#that he doesn’t see her as a commodity to own

[nocasdatsgay]

I really forgot Graysen’s dusty mustard ass told Elain that “she belongs to Lucien” and he didn’t want her heart because of that. Now I have to rethink the whole way I view Elucien.

[danyllura]

I do wish the movie had implied Tigris at some point had been forced to sell her body during the war, because I think it’s one of the biggest indications of Snows true nature. Before she ever mentions/reveals anything, Coriolanus ponders over the idea of her having to trade herself for his shirt and immediately considers how much money she’d be worth, critiquing her looks but concluding “she had a sweetness, a vulnerability that invited abuse” showing how he views other as commodities. At that point he doesn’t know the truth behind his speculations, but when he does he’s not any kinder. And we as an audience obviously know what Coriolanus forces the later victors into as president. To me learning about Tigris, the forced prostitution the victors experience becomes a much bigger betrayal and indication of the depth of Snows lack of morality. Because Coriolanus is a narcissist, but based upon his classmates it is arguable many of his tendencies and prejudices are not solely reflective of his character but rather that of the Capitol. But one thing that is entirely Coriolanus, is his pride, his pride in his family/family name. Tigris has taken care of him for years, and in many instances she is the one who tethers him to reality. She’s gone above and beyond to help him hide their financial struggles and has repeated with him their mantra of “snow lands on top” since they were children. All her sacrifice and he later feels no way of abusing the victors as she was, letting her likely witness them subjected to it as well due to her proximity to him and the games. Cannibalism is discouraged/banned from the games due to the capitol finding it distatsful. And we know that Coriolanus witnessing Nero Price harvesting a maids leg for his family to eat deeply disturbs him and haunts him for years to come. I would find it unsurprising it is his personal history with the subject matter that leads to its discouragement. The capitol loves brutality, and it shows the “savageness” of the district people, if Snow could come up with ways to make the games more digestible at 18, im sure as an experienced gamemaker he could have discovered a way to utilize that as well. Yet he draws the line because of his own past discomfort. But Tigris’ trauma holds no weight to him. Despite what she likely was forced to having had done to help keep him alive, and the potential pain of her having to be exposed to witnessing that nature of work with unwilling children. Snows loyalty’s have always been to himself. Seeing Tigris’ fate, a struggling shop owner with barely any food, we know his sympathies lie only with himself. And even someone who has loved him at his worst, gave up anything and everything for him, and even posses the thing he values most- the last name Snow- she too is just another pawn in the game to him, disposable when she’s no longer useful.

[nightcolorz]

Armand could definitely 100% have prevented Claudia and Madeline’s death like obviously he is so full of shit 😭😭 he just chose not to. I dont think he was lying about being held captive, though. It seems more likely to me that he allowed himself to be imprisoned bcus the ultimate outcome would be desirable, rather then like, he was secretly orchestrating it all like a devious Master mind and was only pretending to be a prisoner to trick Louis. I think Armand was genuinely being imprisoned, but he could have easily escaped (as if the vampire Armand couldn’t win in a fight against Sam The Twink), and chose not to because it’s in his best interest for Claudia and Madeline to die 😭. While part of his betrayal I think comes from a comfort Armand takes in learned helplessness, where taking action feels less safe then leaning into victimhood, so armand chooses to accept helplessness rather then play the hero bcus helplessness is comforting, it was also definitely part “I want these two people to be gone from my life and this seems like a sure fire way to let it happen while I get to remain mostly blameless” 😭. Armand finds Claudia’s whole existence horrific and cruel. I don’t think he particularly likes or dislikes her as a person, he doesn’t seem to know her very well nor care to know her (he actually says this in tva lol), so I don’t think he considered letting her a die an act of spite.

Armand thought of Claudia as a suffering, rabid, sick and diseased animal that needed to be put down for its own well being. He considered her death an inevitable tragedy that “could not be prevented”, and bcus of his perspective on vampirism as a horrible curse that can only be spared through very specific very calculated and clean cut means, he wanted her death to come as quick and painlessly as possible. From Armand’s perspective, if he saved Claudia from death by execution, he’d only end up watching her excruciatingly loose her mind and self until she eventually killed herself or got put down by Armand or someone else Nicki style so that she wouldnt need to live in agony anymore.

Which, his whole perspective there is flawed, and fucked up, and dehumanizing of Claudia, but it makes sense why he would think that way. Armand considers vampirism to be always bad, regardless of the subject turned, and always smth he would hate to inflict on someone. So claudias turning, is not only cruel to Armand, but unforgivable and unsalvageable. He’s seen a lot of fucked up vampires in his time, a lot of botched turnings, and he knows from his experience how much of a toll vampirism takes on anyone, let alone someone in the body of a child. His whole “I will never turn someone into a vampire ever in my life” thing comes from this. So, of course he won’t save claudia from such a clean cut, blameless death 😭. He considers it an act of mercy, when he pictures the alternative as “Claudia clings to Madeline as she painfully looses her mind and eventually dies”. Which, comes into why he didn’t save Madeline either lol

Armand doesn’t particularly value life as smth to be worth preserving, he is very willing to view other ppl as commodities when it helps him. But he does value preserving peace and limiting other’s suffering (which is why he kills so gently). Armand is so horrified by Madeline being turned, partly bcus I think he saw himself in her. He sees a fledgling who he believes will inevitably loose her maker, the only person she rlly cares about, to horrible gruesome death, and he knows that once she experiences that her life as an immortal will be cruel and unbearable. So once she is turned, Armand sees another lost cause who will be better off if she is killed before it can get bad. What Armand misses when it comes to Claudia and Madeline, obviously, is that they r more resilient and self sufficient then he sees, and taking away their agency by deciding they have no hope and must die isn’t the mercy he sees it as but is actually like, fucked up and horrible. Armand is so blinded by his trauma fueled dog eat dog view of life as a vampire that he can’t see that.

I think the reason armand considers the perks of Claudia and Madeline’s death a priority over Louis’s happiness (and horrible grief that will ensue when his loved ones die), is bcus Armand considers Claudia and Madeline’s death an inevitable consequence of Louis’s unforgivably cruel actions. He doesn’t resent Louis for it I don’t think, but he definitely thinks that Louis will need to atone for what he’s done whether Armand wants him to or not. So, Armand is ok with Louis grieving (as long as it doesn’t turn to resentment of Armand), bcus it was ultimately inevitable, and comparatively less cruel then what he would have to witness alternatively. It’s a rip the Band aid off type of thing 😭😭

in conclusion uh Armand is bad but Armand has his reasons and Armand isn’t one dimensionally villainous, he has a ton of complex trauma induced reasons for the way he thinks, and his actions r more often then not coming from a warped view of “the kind thing to do” that comes from his lack of understanding of how kind the world actually is and can be (dog eat dog mindest etc), bcus of how horribly traumatized he is. thank u good night

[writinginaforrest]

Yes, I’m Transgender, but I’m not “Trans”

(31st Aug 2024)

When I think about this too much, I always come to the conclusion that I have got some internalised Transphobia. I identify as Male. I use He/Him pronouns. I dress in a way that conforms to the Gendered Norms of my culture. I’m just a guy. When “Trans” is added as a descriptor, not only does that become a thing about me, but it also sets me aside from other men. I’m not a Man, I’m a Trans Man. I’m a pseudo-masculine thing. When people realise I’m Transgender, I feel Castrated. That sounds pretty dang transphobic, doesn’t it. 

The way people have expected me to be Trans often Superseded what Transness is to me. I had a lecturer in college who insisted that my depression was, In part, a result of my going home every day to a family who did not know I was Trans. She sat there and looked me in the eyes and I watched myself in the reflection of her eyes becoming an anecdote in real time. I’ll always be her “Trans Student” who did remarkably well in her class before dropping off in his second year when he got a different teacher. For reference, my family may not have known that I am Trans, but It’s very rare that my deadname is used in my home. I’m referred to by my Middle name almost exclusively. Jeff (Jeffrey). And in reality. Transness was not something that was always on my mind and even now, I can be sure that it was not fueling my depression. My Undealt with sexual trauma? That’s a different story. But my being Trans wasn’t it. I didn’t even think about it that much. I still don’t. It’s not something that is an integral part of me. I would be no different If I had been born Cisgender. 

And that’s the thing. “Trans” carries a lot of weight to it, doesn’t it? A lot of people really connect to it on a level beyond it being simply a descriptor. It’s a culture, an experience, a mindset, an ideology, and what can I say to those people? Well done? Thank you? I don’t really have much to say, and that’s part of my problem. A lot of Trans artists are, at least partly, inspired by their queer experiences. I’m an artist (I yell into the void) and yet nothing about being Queer inspires art within me. I have nothing to say. My art would be the same if I were Cisgender. If I were Allosexual. I would be the same because I am not these descriptors that have been decided for me based on the way I live my life. 

“Trans” has become a commodity that I can’t escape. It’s something I’m supposed to stick on my laptop. It’s something I’m supposed to pin on my wall. It’s a lifestyle. A trait. A Community. A Culture. An Ideology. A Concept. An Abstraction. It’s everything and it’s nothing. I’m supposed to disclose it with pride when I meet new people. I’m supposed to warn Littluns about the dangers of not expressing themselves and being comfortable in their identity when I can’t even deliver on that. I’m supposed to do all these things. 

But no one is asking me to. 

No one is telling me to be “Trans”. 

I’m looking around at all of my Trans brothers and sisters and wondering if that’s behaviour I should emulate because I  have a) no frame of reference and b) no connection to Transess as a concept. I feel like I’m doing a disservice to those who feel a connection to it as a concept, when I only see it as an adjective. When I try to remove myself from it as much as possible. And again here comes the internalised Transphobia knocking at my window.

I’m an artist, A filmmaker, and a writer. I’ve never felt compelled to tell Trans stories. Is it because I don’t want to be pigeonholed into this idea of Transness that again, supersedes my own, or is it because I’m ashamed of it? Am I acknowledging that I am more than a Trans artist or am I just not taking pride in the fact that I’m going to have to live with being Trans for the rest of my life? It’s not something that goes away. Trans doesn’t stop. I Will always be Transgender and I have to cope with that because I am male and I was not born that way. 

I don’t Identify with Queerness. I don’t identify as Transgender. It is something I am, a thing that I cannot help. I Identify as Male, Transgender was just something that came free in the post. I didn't understand the terms and conditions of it. I'm dyslexic, you expect me to read the fine print?

Where does this end? What’s the accumulation of all of this thinking? I do not know. It doesn’t end. The debate where I am my own interlocutor only ends with more questions that I must ask myself. 

[justasecretflower]

- How many kids would they want? + pregnancy head canons Ft. Inuyasha boys 💐

Inuyasha

- I would like to say none..

- canonically, he has a daughter. So I imagine that if he had kids it would’ve just..happened.

- that’s the case back then anyway because they didn’t have birth control and whatever else.

- when you become pregnant he’s a whole mix of emotions but dw he’ll settle on being happy.

- he’d be the type to be like “kids are sticky and gross.”

- he warms up to the idea when he sees you with kids

- it’s one and done though..he’s extra careful after having a kid. He loves them, but he’s not doing another.💀

Miroku

- oh my gosh

- you’d pop out more babies than a Victorian wife if he had the choice.

- he wants like 10.

- you tell him obviously you’re not gonna rip your body open to birth 10 kids.

- you settle on like 4 MAYBE 5.

- he’s so happy and very supportive during all of your pregnancies.

- now, many people may think he’d want only boys, but in reality he’s such a girl dad.

- “oh how scandalous” he gossips while sipping imaginary tea.

Sesshomaru

- uh oh.

- none. Idk how to tell you this.

- he’s like Inuyasha, if he has one, he’ll warm up to it, but he doesn’t really try for one.

- again he’s one and done. Like, he’s not exactly dad material, nobody say rin because he married her..

- I feel like he’d have a boy and he’d be exactly like sesshomaru

Naraku

- NONEEEEE

- he’d baby trap you if you’d try to leave, but only because he wants to manipulate you to stay, not because he wants kids.

-now, if that happened..

- he’d constantly ignore the kid, but maybe he’d warm up?..

- he’d also not have any other kids, he’s successfully manipulated you so why would he?

- you’d have to hold the kid and let them cry as they ask why dad doesn’t want to spend time with them.

- naraku hears this, and, in his own twisted way, yes he “loves” his kid. He just thinks of them more so as a commodity.

- so he takes them on a ‘mission’ and teaches them how to use his puppets and stuff.

- the kids ecstatic, naraku doesn’t have to do much work, it’s a win win.

- that’s all you’re getting though.

Kōga

- he’s a “however many you want” kind of guy.

- he adores his kids though.

- I think you prolly end up with like three. That fits him.

- two boys one girl. The girl being the youngest is how I picture it.

- overprotective girl dad obviously.

- teaches his sons how to hunt properly, dots on his daughter but teaches her how to fight with her brothers for self defense.

- if she ever gets a bf he’s fighting for her, actually.

- he likes when you wear clothes that show off your belly. He likes showing off how he “claimed” you.

- also in a “look at my beautiful, glowing wife” way.

- tells your belly how strong they’ll be.

Jinenji

- I love him.

- he cried and passed out when he found out you were pregnant, he didn’t know he could even have kids.

- now he wants a whole army, but secretly because he never voices his opinion on it. He thinks since you go through the pain, you have the absolute final say and you wouldn’t want that many kids anyway..

- he carries you everywhere. You’re never on your feet.

- his whole hand takes up your entire belly. So when the baby kicks around he’s watching and feeling with tears streaking down his face.

- he’s our lil sensitive king.

- he goes into serious overprotective mode. He’s checking all of the food that you eat, making sure every step doesn’t end up making you trip, making sure you rest up.

- prepares you little salted rose petal baths and just sits there watching you. The love in his eyes makes you melt every time you look over to glance at him.

- his mom goes crazy too. Giving you advice, old wives tales, etc.

- the best overall. Because he is.

———————————————————————-

~. You look lost, visit my garden ?

Reqs open.

Tags

[book--brackets]

The Liveship Traders by Robin Hobb (1998-2000)

Wizardwood, a sentient wood. The most precious commodity in the world. Like many other legendary wares, it comes only from the Rain River Wilds.

But how can one trade with the Rain Wilders, when only a liveship fashioned from wizardwood can negotiate the perilous waters of the Rain River? Rare and valuable a liveship will quicken only when three members, from successive generations, have died on board. The liveship Vivacia is about to undergo her quickening as Althea Vestrit’s father is carried on deck in his death-throes. Althea waits for the ship that she loves more than anything else in the world to awaken. Only to discover that the Vivacia has been signed away in her father’s will to her brutal brother-in-law, Kyle Haven...

Others plot to win or steal a liveship. The Paragon, known by many as the Pariah, went mad, turned turtle, and drowned his crew. Now he lies blind, lonely, and broken on a deserted beach. But greedy men have designs to restore him, to sail the waters of the Rain Wild River once more.

Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke (1997-2021)

With lonely Ben aboard, brave dragon Firedrake seeks mythical place where silver dragons can live in peace. Over moonlit lands and sparkling seas, they meet fantastic creatures, summon up surprising courage - and cross a ruthless villain with an ancient grudge determined to end their quest. Only a secret destiny can save the dragons and bring them the true meaning of home.

The Once and Future Witches by Alix E. Harrow (2020)

In 1893, there's no such thing as witches. There used to be, in the wild, dark days before the burnings began, but now witching is nothing but tidy charms and nursery rhymes. If the modern woman wants any measure of power, she must find it at the ballot box.

But when the Eastwood sisters -- James Juniper, Agnes Amaranth, and Beatrice Belladonna -- join the suffragists of New Salem, they begin to pursue the forgotten words and ways that might turn the women's movement into the witch's movement. Stalked by shadows and sickness, hunted by forces who will not suffer a witch to vote -- and perhaps not even to live -- the sisters will need to delve into the oldest magics, draw new alliances, and heal the bond between them if they want to survive.

There's no such thing as witches. But there will be.

The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon (2013-present)

In 2059, Scion has taken over most of the world's cities, promising safety for all the citizens it deems worthy and wiping out clairvoyants wherever it can find them. 

Paige Mahoney, though, is a clairvoyant--and a criminal just for existing. Paige is determined to fight Scion's power, and as part of the Seven Seals, Paige has found a use for her powers: she scouts for information by breaking into others' minds as they dream. 

But when Paige is captured and arrested, she encounters a power more sinister even than Scion. The voyant prison is a separate city, controlled by a powerful, otherworldly race. These creatures, the Rephaim, value the voyants highly--as soldiers in their army. 

Paige is assigned to a Rephaite keeper, Warden, who will be in charge of her care and training. He is her master. Her natural enemy. But if she wants to regain her freedom, Paige will have to learn something of his mind and his own mysterious motives.

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao (2021-present)

The boys of Huaxia dream of pairing up with girls to pilot Chrysalises, giant transforming robots that can battle the mecha aliens that lurk beyond the Great Wall. It doesn’t matter that the girls often die from the mental strain.

When 18-year-old Zetian offers herself up as a concubine-pilot, it’s to assassinate the ace male pilot responsible for her sister’s death. But she gets her vengeance in a way nobody expected—she kills him through the psychic link between pilots and emerges from the cockpit unscathed. She is labeled an Iron Widow, a much-feared and much-silenced kind of female pilot who can sacrifice boys to power up Chrysalises instead.​

To tame her unnerving yet invaluable mental strength, she is paired up with Li Shimin, the strongest and most controversial male pilot in Huaxia​. But now that Zetian has had a taste of power, she will not cower so easily. She will miss no opportunity to leverage their combined might and infamy to survive attempt after attempt on her life, until she can figure out exactly why the pilot system works in its misogynist way—and stop more girls from being sacrificed.

Kushiel's Legacy by Jacqueline Carey (2001-2003)

The land of Terre d'Ange is a place of unsurpassing beauty and grace. It is said that angels found the land and saw it was good...and the ensuing race that rose from the seed of angels and men live by one simple rule: Love as thou wilt.

Phèdre nó Delaunay is a young woman who was born with a scarlet mote in her left eye. Sold into indentured servitude as a child, her bond is purchased by Anafiel Delaunay, a nobleman with very a special mission...and the first one to recognize who and what she is: one pricked by Kushiel's Dart, chosen to forever experience pain and pleasure as one.

Phèdre is trained equally in the courtly arts and the talents of the bedchamber, but, above all, the ability to observe, remember, and analyze. Almost as talented a spy as she is courtesan, Phèdre stumbles upon a plot that threatens the very foundations of her homeland. Treachery sets her on her path; love and honor goad her further. And in the doing, it will take her to the edge of despair...and beyond. Hateful friend, loving enemy, beloved assassin; they can all wear the same glittering mask in this world, and Phèdre will get but one chance to save all that she holds dear.

Beauty by Robin McKinley (1978)

Beauty has never liked her nickname. She is thin and awkward; it is her two sisters who are the beautiful ones. But what she lacks in appearance, she can perhaps make up for in courage. When her father comes home with a tale of an enchanted castle in the forest and the terrible promise he had to make to the Beast who lives there, Beauty knows she must travel to the castle, a prisoner of her own free will. Her father insists that he will not let her go, but she responds, "Cannot a Beast be tamed?"

The Immortals Quartet by Tamora Pierce (1992-1996)

Thirteen-year-old Daine has always had a special connection with animals, but only when she's forced to leave home does she realize it's more than a knack--it's magic. With this wild magic, not only can Daine speak to animals, but she can also make them obey her. Daine takes a job handling horses for the Queen's Riders, where she meets the master mage Numair and becomes his student. 

Under Numair's guidance, Daine explores the scope of her magic. But she encounters other beings, too, who are not so gentle. These terrifying creatures, called Immortals, have been imprisoned in the Divine Realms for the past four hundred years--but now someone has broken the barrier. And it's up to Daine and her friends to defend their world from an Immortal attack.

The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander (1964-1968)

Taran wanted to be a hero, and looking after a pig wasn't exactly heroic, even though Hen Wen was an oracular pig. But the day that Hen Wen vanished, Taran was led into an enchanting and perilous world. With his band of followers, he confronted the Horned King and his terrible Cauldron-Born. These were the forces of evil, and only Hen Wen knew the secret of keeping the kingdom of Prydain safe from them. But who would find her first?

Seven Realms by Cinda Williams Chima (2009-2012)

Times are hard in the mountain city of Fellsmarch. Reformed thief Han Alister will do almost anything to eke out a living for his family. The only thing of value he has is something he can't sell—the thick silver cuffs he's worn since birth. They're clearly magicked—as he grows, they grow, and he's never been able to get them off.

One day, Han and his clan friend, Dancer, confront three young wizards setting fire to the sacred mountain of Hanalea. Han takes an amulet from Micah Bayar, son of the High Wizard, to keep him from using it against them. Soon Han learns that the amulet has an evil history—it once belonged to the Demon King, the wizard who nearly destroyed the world a millennium ago. With a magical piece that powerful at stake, Han knows that the Bayars will stop at nothing to get it back.

Meanwhile, Raisa ana'Marianna, princess heir of the Fells, has her own battles to fight. She's just returned to court after three years of freedom in the mountains—riding, hunting, and working the famous clan markets. Raisa wants to be more than an ornament in a glittering cage. She aspires to be like Hanalea—the legendary warrior queen who killed the Demon King and saved the world. But her mother has other plans for her...

The Seven Realms tremble when the lives of Hans and Raisa collide, fanning the flames of the smoldering war between clans and wizards.

[luvhughes43]

I need to know the Hughes fams thoughts on vivienne

this has been sitting in my drafts for so long so i’m just going to post it even though it doesn’t feel complete (to me)

the hughes had seen how jack was with you. how comfortable he was, how much he liked not being some sort of commodity.

vivienne was entirely different. not even in a bad way, but she was always focused on being the picture-perfect couple.

"jacky!" vivienne cooed, pressing her check against jacks in greeting. jack smiled at her, wrapping his arm around vivienne as she got comfortable on his lap.

luke and quinn shared a look, trevor outright rolling his eyes at the sight of the couple. trevor wouldn't openly admit it, because if you asked him he was all for whatever his friend wanted, but he was team y/n.

if jack noticed the looks, he didn't pay them any mind. he knew how much his family had grown to like you, and with time... maybe vivienne would grow on them too. that wasn't the case.

⋆ ★

"sweetie, can you help me with the salad?" ellen asked, gesturing to all the uncut vegetables sitting on the island. vivienne looks over, raises her brows, and then looks back at her phone.

"hmmm.. i just got my nails done" vivienne replies in a grating voice. she flashes her nails in Ellen’s direction, and then turns back to her phone again.

"i'll help you mom" luke speaks up, shooting out of his chair and walking over to the island. "she's rude, isn't she?" luke whispers to his mom who purses her lips and nods.

"shes... different" is all ellen says before she turns to the oven.

luke rolls his eyes before whispering back, "you can admit that you dont like her. its okay"

ellen sighs. "jack had a rough time after the break up. if hes happy with vivienne, then hes happy. we barely know her. maybe shes really great"

when jack walks into the kitchen, vivienne stands up from her seat at the table. "jack! lets help your mom and set the table, yeah?" vivienne says, completely forgetting about her manicure that, well... hindered her abilities to help when asked.

"mom..."

"luke, enough."

⋆ ★

"we gotta debrief this," luke sighs as he shuts the door to quinns room.

quinn looks up from his ipad and his brows furrow. "what?"

"vivienne and jack, obviously" luke speaks easily. he sprawls himself across his older brothers bed and waits for quinns opinions.

when they didn't come, he continued. "you dont think she's a little..."

"okay yeah shes annoying, but what's that have to do with me?"

"nothing. this is about restoring the balance of-"

"you watch too many movies" quinn laughs, interrupting whatever luke was about to say.

"you know what, trevor would love to talk about this with me" luke grumbles. he stands up from the bed, and quinn is quick to pull him back down again.

"okay, no. we can talk about it" quinn responds, pausing his show and setting his ipad on his side table.

"their relationship just feels... fake ... like, i dont know. like remember when jack brought y/n here last summer?" quinn nods, urging his brother to continue. "i've never seen him so happy. he genuinely liked her,"

"i mean, i think he likes vivienne" quinn adds.

"well sure but its different"

"i think... i think jack loved y/n. thats why its different with vivienne. they dont have the same dynamic" quinn shares his thoughts and luke thinks it over.

"yeah..." the boys both sit in silence for a minute.

"that really sucks" luke finally responds.

"and maybe youre being too hard on vivienne? i know you really liked y/n but its not your relationship. maybe she'll grow on you?"

"hey! lets not act like you like vivienne! i see the looks you give me!" luke defends, not wanting to get into his own feelings (aside from not liking vivienne) dissected by his older brother.

⋆ ★

essentially, none of them really liked vivienne but nobody wanted to admit it (aside from luke) to jack. they just want him to be happy after the breakup even if it means putting up with vivienne.

[kueble]

I Just Need You By My Side, Cause I'm Warmer in the Winter With You

Another very self-indulgent Christmas fic.

Teen. Warnings: Mentions of torture. 5,600 words.

Ghost/Soap

---

“Shouldn’t you be packing up?” Ghost asks him from where he leans against his doorway. Soap shrugs and sets down the pencil in his hand. He’s been sketching for about an hour now, trying to wind down at the end of a hectic day. Everyone on base is giddy at the thought of going home for the holidays, and the energy is almost overwhelming..

“Sorry, but you’ll have to get used to my ugly mug around here. I know you’re one of the only ones here most Christmases, but I don’t have anywhere else to be this year,” he explains, hoping years of interrogation techniques pay off and Ghost doesn’t call him on the lie. Though it’s partially true, since there’s nowhere he’d rather be then in the barracks with him.

“Don’t you usually have a big family celebration? Remember you rambling about nieces and nephews and being forced into midnight mass by your mother,” Ghost asks, eyes narrowing behind the black balaclava he’s chosen to wear today.

“Glad to know you actually listen to me when I shoot my mouth off,” he laughs out.

“Never miss a word, Johnny,” Ghost tells him evenly.

“So any other year, yeah I'd be home, but things are out of sorts this year with my sisters traveling to their husband’s families, and me Ma and Pa planned a little trip of their own,” he says. Sure, the little trip was right down the road to his brother’s house where everyone would be gathered like every other year, but no need for Ghost to know that.

Last year it was excruciating to leave Ghost on the tarmac, saying goodbyes as everyone else went home to their families. He doesn’t know much, but it’s clear Ghost no longer has anyone waiting for him back at home. They’d all joked about him haunting the base, probably maskless with the skeleton crew left behind and any other puns they could come up with. Still, there was a bleakness in Ghost’s eyes that he never wanted to see again.

Thankfully he’s never been able to hide his feelings from his parents, especially his mother, and she didn’t even bat an eye when he told her his plans. She’d said something cheesy about the magic of the season bringing them closer together, which he’d quickly scoffed off. He wasn’t doing this with any ulterior motives in place. It was a simple fact that his best friend shouldn’t be alone over the long holiday break they were lucky enough to get two years in a row.

If he happens to be completely ass over tits in love with him, he’s smart enough to keep it to himself.

“Guess it could be nice to have some company, even yours,” Ghost teases with a snort. Soap rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking still.

“Do you cook anything for it or rely on the mess hall for Christmas dinner?” he asks, already planning how to make things nicer for him. They may be stuck on a mostly empty base, but there’s no reason why he can’t make it as comfortable as possible.

“Sometimes I make a pot of soup for the week, but nothing special for the day itself. Tend to keep to myself,” he says softly. And that just won’t do.

“Happy to help sample anything you cook, but since I burn water, I’ll order us something nice from town. It shouldn’t be too late for a small catering order. You like lasagna?” he asks, already thinking of the perfect little Italian place near here.

“Wouldn’t say no to it, but there’s no need to get fancy over me,” Ghost mumbles. It only makes Soap more determined to bring a little Christmas magic into his life this year.

“I’ll take care of dinner and you just bring the good company,” he says to settle it. He’ll place an order first thing in the morning, already planning to buy way more food than they need. Ghost deserves to be spoiled, and leftovers are a rare commodity around here.

“Not sure I’ll contribute much in that regard, but yeah, I can show up,” he agrees.

“No one else I’d rather spend the day with. Honestly,” Soap admits, but Ghost just huffs at him.

“Piss off, Johnny,” he says with a laugh. Before he can figure out a response, the man is already gone. It may just be the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he’s damned sure going to make sure Ghost knows how much Soap likes being around him, especially now. Likes, not loves, because he has a feeling that’s something he’ll take to his grave. Being around him will just have to do for now.

—

The poster fell off the wall for the three thousandth time, and Soap barely managed to keep himself in check. Price would have his head if he blew up the base, but it’s getting more and more likely. It’s a stupid thing, really, just a fake Christmas tree by a fireplace, but he bought it to cheer up their rec room. He grumbles under his breath, reciting every swear he knows and probably inventing some new ones along the way.

“Problems, Sergeant?” Ghost asks from his spot on the couch. There’s a hint of laughter on the edges of his voice, and Soap spins around to glare at him.

“There is in fact,” he spits out before taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. No use in pissing off the man he’s trying to decorate for. “These walls are apparently covered in fifty some years of filth, and I can’t get the damn tape to stick. Seriously, it’s like teflon and I’m actually afraid to think about what could be coating this wall right now.”

“This that important to you?” Ghost asks, head tilted like he’s studying him.

“Aye,” Soap sighs out. “Just wanted to brighten up the room a bit. We can’t have a real tree, and I’ve been banned from open flames on base, but I thought this stupid fucking poster might work. Wanna sneak off base and burn it with me? Might raise my spirits.”

“How about I fix it instead,” Ghost says, standing up to stomp over to the wall.

“You’re more than welcome to try, but not even sure duct tape will hold the damn thing at this point,” he says, scowling at the wall. Seriously, he was going to beg Price to get the room deep cleaned as soon as he was back on base. Can’t be safe.

Ghost shrugs before bumping him out of the way with his hip. He holds the poster with one hand and reaches into the back of his jeans with the other. The knife he pulls out is on the small side, but it does the job when he stabs it through the poster and into the wall. Nodding proudly, he slides another knife out of his sleeve and buries it in the other top corner. The final blade is tucked in his boot, and he takes a few steps back before flinging it at the wall.

It lands perfectly in the bottom center of the poster, and Soap chubs up in his sweats at the display of skill.

“Guess that works, too,” he murmurs, actively avoiding Ghost’s gaze. No need to show off how fucking gone on him he is, and he knows there’s hearts in his eyes right now. He’s bound to be suspicious just based on how desperate Soap is to make things perfect, to give him a better Christmas than year past, and he should try better to keep his feelings hidden. Not looking to get his heart broken over the holidays.

“Anything for you, Johnny,” Ghost tells him as he strides back to the couch and picks up his book again. Soap can feel his cheeks heating up and blurts out some half-assed excuse before making a tactful retreat.

—

He debates waiting until morning, but Soap is too curious about the package in his hands to wait that long. His box of gifts from his family arrived today, but he didn’t bother unpacking it until after dinner. Everything was neatly labeled - or scribbled by his nieces and nephews - with his name except for one.

To Ghost, From Ma MacTavish. Open Immediately.

Not one to disobey his mother, Soap raps on Ghost’s door and hopes this isn’t something too embarrassing. Lord knows his entire family is annoying enough already over his little crush, and he doesn’t need his mother stepping in to help him. There’s a rustling from behind the door before it’s swung open by a brooding Ghost. Anyone else might not see how moody he is, but Soap can tell just by studying his eyes.

“What do ya need?” he asks, voice cracking from disuse.

“Got a special delivery for you and instructions for you to open it right away,” Soap informs him, holding up the package like the peace offering that it is. Ghost eyes it suspiciously but steps aside and lets him into the room. While he’d love a chance to look around, Soap keeps his focus on Ghost out of respect for his privacy. He knows just letting him into the room was a big step for the other man.

“Your mum sent this?” Ghost asks as he takes the parcel from him. Soap nods and smiles warmly as Ghost’s eyes widen. “Better not keep her waiting then,” Ghost mutters before sitting on the edge of his bed. The package looks huge, even in his large hands, and Soap really wonders what it could be.

He tears the paper at the seams, carefully working a finger down the edge of it. It’s gentle in a way that hints of Christmases past and perhaps being yelled at to keep the wrapping for next year. Soap’s grandma used to do that and iron out each crease to save money.

When Ghost finally removes the paper, soap breathes a sigh of relief at seeing the present isn’t anything to worry about. Trust his mother to try and take care of someone she’s never met. Ghost holds up the blanket, blinking slowly at it. Soap supposes he isn’t used to getting many gifts, especially not something handmade. The blanket itself is a mix of blank and white granny squares, no doubt crocheted with love by his mother. Everyone in their house has at least one of these piled at the foot of their bed, and his heart warms at the thought of Ghost having one on his.

“She made it?” he asks in a whisper, and Soap wants to cry about it. There’s no reason a gift should put him in such a state of awe, and he vows right then and there to spoil him as much as he’s allowed to under the guise of friendship.

“You’re looking at a Ma MacTavish special right there. Everyone in the family has one, and it looks like she thinks highly of you,” he confirms.

“Never even met me.”

“Well, I suppose I’ve entertained her with a tale of two of the man who saved my life so many times. Besides, how else do you think she’d know the perfect color scheme for an emo bastard like yourself,” He says in an attempt to lighten the mood. The corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkle up, and he knows there’s a smile beneath the mask.

“You’ll have to thank her for me. No, wait! I’ll get a thank you note together for the next time you send mail home. That alright?” he asks almost timidly, which isn’t an emotion Soap’s sure he’s ever shown before.

“She’ll love that. Sorry to barge in on you so late at night, but I’m glad I did. Should probably be heading to bed, though,” Johnny says with a pout. Dreams of being asked to stay, to tuck himself against Ghost under that very blanket flash through his mind and he has to get out of here quickly before he shows his hand.

“Me too. Night, Johnny,” Ghost says, and he understands it for the dismissal that it is. The last thing he sees as he ducks out the door is Ghost spreading the blanket across the top of his bed and smoothing it out. He’ll have to send his mother a thank you note as well.

—

There is absolutely no reason for them to be in Soap’s room instead of the rec room, but he wasn’t about to say no when Ghost suggested it. Currently they are sitting on his bed - which is way too small for two grown ass men - with their backs against the wall and his laptop propped on top of their thighs. Ghost is a constant warm presence at his side, and he’s pretty sure he would be completely lost if he hadn’t seen this movie so many times.

They each have a glass of their preferred poison in hand, and Ghost has his mask tucked up over his nose while he purses his lips at the screen in front of them. He is so fucking stunning with the light from the laptop highlighting the planes of his face, and Soap would be weak in the knees were he standing. Not that Soap is abusing his trust just to watch him more than the movie. Absolutely not. Still, the sight of Simon’s sharp jawline is a rare one and he can’t seem to stop staring. He longs to scrap his teeth over the scar that curves around it and has to hold himself back from scooting even closer to him.

“I don’t get it,” Ghost says, breaking him out of his dangerous thoughts.

“How so?” he asks, eyes already turned back to the screen to see what part of the movie they’ve reached. Nearly done at this point, but the silly plot has been a fun distraction. They don’t often get downtime, time totally free of responsibilities, and he hopes he can go without this once everything is back to normal.

“This just seems so improbable. His family forgot to bring him to the airport and they don’t have a single family friend they can call in the meantime? The police are actively searching for these two assholes and yet a child is the only one who manages to take them down? Gotta admit some of these traps are pretty awesome, though,” Ghost rambles out.

“One, I can’t believe you’ve made it this far in life without watching this. Two, this film is a masterpiece because it makes you suspend reality. Three, I’m pretty sure this is why I ended up in demolitions anyway. Do you know how many things I blew up after seeing this? I thought my Pa was going to murder me just as an example for my brothers and sisters. One time I rigged a frying pan to hit my brother in the face and it broke his fucking nose,” Soap says, unable to hold in his laughter. “Pretty sure he was about to pack me off and make me Nan deal with me, but my Ma couldn’t let her baby go.”

“You’re a real piece of work, Johnny,” Ghost tells him softly. He brings his glass up to his mouth, and Soap watches him swallow slowly, desperately trying to remind himself how they’re friends and nothing more. “Glad it brought you to me, though.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest.

But then they fall into an easy silence, and he’s forced to turn back to the movie. They both finish their drinks as the plot winds down, and he’s about to offer another when Ghost grabs his wrist to stop him from standing up. He looks down, worried that he’s overstepped somehow, and the tightness in Ghost’s clenched jaw startles him.

“We’ve had a good week, yeah?” Ghost asks quietly.

“Loved every second of it,” Soap blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Might not love this so much,” Ghost says with a sigh. “I’ve…I’ve never been this close with anyone, barely even shared this with Price, but I’d like to give you some sort of explanation for why I keep to myself at Christmas. If you’ll listen, that is.”

“Ghost, I will always be here, no matter what you want to tell me. Thank you for trusting me so much, but are you sure you want to do this while we’re drinking?” he has to ask, needs to be sure his friend won’t regret this come morning.

“You think I just keep bourbon and scotch on hand? That’s kinda the reason why I brought it with me. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now, but I needed a little courage to do it. Just, just don’t say anything until I’m done, ok? If you do I might not be able to finish,” he warns him, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Sensing how important this is, Soap sets both their glasses on his bedside table and closes the laptop. His desk lamp is on, so they’re not totally in the dark. He knows rumors of Ghost’s past, has heard a bunch of shit about his time in captivity, but every scrap of information is dear to him. He longs to know the man beside him better than he knows himself. He leans back against the wall and angles his body towards Ghost before saying, “Course. I got you.”

“When I was little, the only person I cared about was my mum. She kept me safe, kept my dad and brother away from me the best she could. I know now that my brother was only doing what he could to avoid my dad’s rage, but it still hurt back then. I won’t lie, I had a real shitty childhood and ran into the service as soon as I could. After that, things started improving. I came back home, kicked my sorry excuse for a father out of the house, and got my brother off of drugs. Hell, I stood beside him as he married the love of his life, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything, but the memories threaten to crush me sometimes.”

He trails off and palms the back of his head, chewing at his lower lip. Soap stays silent, unwilling to break his promise even though Ghost looked on the verge of falling apart. They sit there for a long moment while he regroups and continues his story. Soap longs to reach out, to offer some sort of physical comfort, but he knows better than to act on it. Simon doesn’t enjoy being touched on a good day, and he’d absolutely hate it while letting himself be this vulnerable.

“Things were going well until I got betrayed and snagged by Roba. Fuck, Johnny,” he breaks off, swallowing thickly before pressing his fingers to his mouth. “It was bad. I won’t go into details, but you can only be tortured for so long before you start to doubt yourself, start to go mad instead of trying to fight it. I have no fucking clue how I managed to survive after being left for dead, but I eventually made it back home.”

Ghost shifts his legs, twitching as he picks at the fabric of his sweats. He takes a few deep breaths and stares ahead at the wall, shoulders tense as he continues. “They died on Christmas, and it was all my fault. Roba still had his hooks in me, and couldn't let me go since I escaped with my life. One more betrayal led me back to my mum’s house that only hours before had been full of celebration and Christmas cheer. When I got there, the whole house was up in flames. The fire was so hot, but I had to save them. Only it was too late, because they were lying dead near the doorway. They even put a bullet through the forehead of my nephew. He was so small, so fragile, and I couldn’t even save him.”

He falls quiet, and it seems like he’s finished. Soap knew it was bad, but wasn’t expecting something so tragic. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just lays a hand on Ghost’s shoulder and squeeze it gently, deciding to risk the touch at this point. It seems to shatter something inside of him and he slumps over to lean on Soap’s shoulder.

“The men involved?” he asks quietly.

“Killed them all. Didn’t bring back my family, though. So yeah, Christmas fucking sucks, but at least I’m not alone this year. Didn’t know it would be easier with you here, but you always manage to help me stay calm. Should have expected it,” he says. His voice is tinged with exhaustion, and Soap knows he’s worn himself out.

“Thank you for trusting me with this. I, it’s, well it’s fucked up that you had to experience that. I know nothing I say can help make it much better, and I’m honestly not sure how you managed to get through it, but I’m grateful you did. I can’t imagine being here without you,” Soap says after a long moment. He knew Ghost has a shitty past, had heard about him digging himself out of his own grave, but this is a whole new level of horrible. If it happened to him, he can’t say he would still be here to talk about it.

“Price helped a lot. Pushed me through it and then kept me around,” Ghost says, turning to stare at the wall. Soap isn’t sure what he can offer at this point, but he has the feeling Ghost might not want to be alone after unloading all of this.

“Stay with me?” he asks, watching as Ghost’s shoulders rise up. He still isn’t looking at him, so he keeps talking. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I can’t imagine wanting to be by myself after such an intense conversation. Would feel bad if I let you go back to your room, really.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually sleep with the mask on,” Ghost says with a chuckle. And ok, he can work with that.

“So let me freshen up and get myself ready for bed. You can go after me, and I’ll just sleep on my side. I can keep my eyes shut, give you your privacy,” he suggests. Ghost finally turns to look at him, and there’s a telltale hint of red around his eyes. If Soap was still religious, he’d offer up a prayer that the other man agrees. He clearly needs comforting tonight.

“Yeah, ok,” Ghost mumbles. “Gonna change into my sleep stuff, though. I’ll get ready in my room and be back in a few.”

He practically leaps out of the bed, and Soap hopes he holds true to his word. He goes through his nightly routine on autopilot, not even aware of it until he’s crawling into his bed. He leaves the side of the covers up and turns onto his side to face the wall. It’s only just catching up to him that he invited Ghost into his bed, but tonight isn’t about him. He’d be offering the same closeness to Gaz if he shared something as horrific as Ghost just did.

If anything, this only proves how amazingly strong Ghost is. He had to reinvent himself twice, the second time with no one to support him. They’ve all seen and done some really horrendous things in the name of queen and country, but he can’t fathom coming home to find the burning bodies of his family at his feet.

He’s yanked out of his spiraling thoughts by the sound of the door opening and shutting. The clunk of Ghost setting down his boots seems impossibly loud in the silence, and he holds his breath waiting for Ghost to come to bed. He hears the muffled sound of Ghost removing his mask and setting it on the bedside table and fights the urge to turn around and look at his gorgeous face. He’s here as a friend tonight, and his feelings don’t matter right now.

The bed dips behind him, and the covers shift as Ghost settles in behind him. There’s an awkward few seconds where they both shuffle around trying to figure out how two large men can fit in such a small bed, but then Ghost sighs and rolls onto his side to frame Soap from behind. He slings an arm across Soap’s hips and presses his nose against the nape of Soap’s neck. The last thing he hears as he drifts off is a soft, “Thank you, Johnny.”

—

Unsurprisingly, Ghost is gone when he wakes up. The bed is still warm, though, so he knows he spent the whole night. He wishes he could have woken him up with a Merry Christmas, but understands his need for time to himself. Chris, last night had been a lot. Hopefully he can still provide a little holiday cheer tonight, but even if they eat in silence he’ll have a great time. Every second spent at Ghost’s side is a better gift than anything he could ever fine underneath the tree.

He spends the morning in the gym, working out his frustrations. Life wasn’t fair, but it has been exceedingly rotten towards Ghost. He knows there isn’t anything he can do to change his past, but he’ll damn sure be here for his future. It feels like they crossed a line last night, but he’s not sure which one. Nothing romantic happened, but he feels closer to Ghost than anyone before. He’s willing to bet Ghost hasn’t opened up this much to many people, probably just Price, and he’s ashamed at how giddy that makes him feel.

They might not ever be together, but they’ll always be solid.

After lunch and a long, self-indulgent shower it’s easy to keep himself busy by running through last minute preparations. They hadn’t said anything about exchanging gifts, but Soap kept finding the perfect things for him.He knows Ghost will love the aged bourbon, even though it hurt his Scottish heart to buy it. There’s also a new knife that came highly recommended by their armorer and a deck of cards with holographic skulls on them. Wrapping was never his strong suit, but he managed to slap some paper onto his gifts. Sure, it looked like they were wrapped by a small child, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

He just finishes heating up the catering he picked up the day before and is about to text Ghost to hurry up and join him when his phone goes off. It’s an incoming FaceTime from his mother, and he decides there’s plenty of time to take it before Ghost swings by. He’s been missing his family all day, but they promised to call at some point.

“Ma! Happy Christmas!” he shouts, laughing as his entire family tries to crowd into the camera view.

“You’ll each get a turn, back off,” his mother says, already throwing elbows at his siblings and their kids. His dad stands next to her, silent as always but with a huge smile on his face. He lifts his glass in cheers, and Johnny waves back in response.

“We’re about to eat dinner, but It’s good to see you all. Make sure everyone gets hugs from me, even though I’m not with you this year. And pass out my presents! Make sure the kids know how much Uncle John spoils them. I want photographic evidence!” he says, laughing as one of his nieces tries to jump into the view again. His dad picks her up and wanders off, no doubt about to bribe her into behaving with cookies.

“I hope staying away is worth it,” his mother says, but she doesn’t look mad, just nosy. She’s been on him for months to bring his boy home, no matter how much he tells her they aren’t dating. Ghost is one hundred percent his boy, though, even if he hasn’t realized it yet.

“It’s worth every second away from you all,” he answers honestly, “I’ll be home as soon as we get more downtime, but you know why I have to be here. Thanks for understanding.”

“Anything for my baby,” his mom says, snorting when he scowls at her.

“You ever going to stop calling me that?” he asks, knowing full well she never will. He isn’t mad, not really, just likes to give her grief about it.

“If you didn’t want to be my baby, you’d have been born higher up the chain,” she tells him with a smirk.

“We can argue about it later. Let me get dinner on the table and then we’ll chat again later, yeah? We can pass around the phone so all the kids can show me everything they got,” he suggests, and his mom nods in response.

“Go feed your boy,” she tells him and ends the call before he can quip back at her.

“Not my boy,” he mumbles to the empty room.

But then someone clears their throat from behind him, and his heart sinks into his chest. Fuck. He spins around with a fake smile on his face to find Ghost standing there with his arms crossed.

“I’m assuming you heard all of that?” he asks with a grimace.

“You lied about your family not being together,” Ghost says, though he knows it’s a question.

“Aye, I did. And I don’t feel bad about it. I couldn’t leave you here alone again. Like it or not, I’m here for you,” he says with a sharp nod. He’s already gearing for a fight, ready to be stubborn as hell about it, but what Ghost says next throws him off his game.

“Because I’m your boy,” he asks, and Johnny can hear the fucking smirk in his voice. He has a plain balaclava on today, which is as dressed down as Ghost seems to get.

“Don’t suppose you’d be willing to let that one go? We can forget about it,” he offers quietly. Because who is he to keep dreaming, right? He’s been dropping hints for at least a year now, and Ghost hasn’t taken the bait. He teeter-totters between thinking the man returns his feelings to thinking he barely tolerates him. Regardless, he meant what he said and he’ll be standing by his side as long as Ghost lets him.

“And if I don’t want to forget it? What if I wanted to be your boy? Though I’d prefer man, if we’re being honest here,” Ghost says, and he freezes while his brain catches up.

“You fucking with me?” he asks, just because he needs to know, needs to be sure before he makes a fool of himself. Well, more of a fool than he already has.

“No, but we could fool around later if dinner goes well,” Ghost tells him, laughing as he reaches up and pulls the mask off. He tosses it onto the table, barely missing the salad bowl.

And fuck, he’s a bonnie lad. Soap can’t even speak, just stands there staring at him, eyes trailing over every exposed inch of his face, committing it to memory in case this is the last time he sees it for a while. “You’re stunning,” he whispers in awe. Then he has the pleasure of watching Ghost’s face darken, the apples of his cheeks turning pink and making the freckles dotting them stand out even more.

“Shut up,” he murmurs before stepping closer. “But yeah, I’m all in if you want this too. Want me. I’m sick of wasting time. Maybe next year we can be with your family instead of me keeping you stuck on base.”

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life,” he says truthfully. “And I’d rather be stuck here every single year if you prefer it. But you heard my Ma. She wants you home with me.”

“Let’s make sure we make it to next Christmas, then,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of worry in his tone.

“Never letting go of you now,” Soap warns him with a laugh. Ghost chuckles and moves in so close the toes of their boots touch.

“Hard to let go if you haven’t even touched me yet,” he points out. And fuck if his smirk isn’t as lovely as Soap had imagined. It’s crooked, a scar bisecting the left side, but it’s perfect to him.

“Better fix that. Can I kiss you, Ghost?” he asks softly.

“Simon. Call me Simon when we’re alone,” he says breathily, and Soap knows how out of his comfort zone he is right now.

“Simon, can I kiss you? Please?” he asks and Simon just nods at him.

And so he does. He cups Simon’s cheeks, brushing a thumb across the constellation of freckles there, and leans in to press their mouths together. It seems almost anticlimactic after all their flirting, but the feel of Simon’s chapped lips against his is one of the best things he’s ever experienced. He can almost feel the tension leave both their bodies as they melt into each other. He keeps things light, pulls back before thinking better and darting back for another quick kiss.

Kissing Simon isn’t a burst of fireworks, but it’s like coming home which is even more perfect.

“Would now be a good time to tell you I’m really fucking in love with you?” he asks teasingly.

“Only if I can say the same,” Simon says, chuckling as he palms the back of Johnny’s head and drags him into another kiss.

And if they stand there kissing in the middle of the rundown rec room, lost in each other long after their dinner has gone cold, it’s no one's business but their own.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hi friend! Dropping by to ask about HC for my fighter Tav!

She’s a human born to a guild family, and ran away from them because they wanted to marry her off.

As a fighter she’s strong and muscular, but feels rather unattractive and masculine.

She also does crafts (guild artisan background) but doesn’t really tell anyone because it doesn’t really fit her fighter persona.

Ok, behold! Hope you won't be dissapointed!

Astarion x f!Fighter!Tav

Your family doesn't come from the Swords Coast.

You come from the Border Kingdoms, a country with much stricter rules.

According to local customs, a woman is a woman. Obedient, submissive, stupid.

Just a commodity to be sold and bought.

Your father, a wealthy merchant, dreams of marrying you off to a noble.

Instead of learning to fight, you learn to dance. Instead of magic, you are taught manners.

And you are punished for not being feminine enough.

But you see the different life in Baldur's Gate.

You see women who are warriors, fighters, sorceresses, pirates.

Everything you dream to be!

Noticing your interest, your mother locks you in the house, forbidding you to go out alone.

And you decide to run away.

You plan it carefully. The Swords Coast is big, you just need to leave Baldur's Gate and disappear among the adventurers.

You find a way to learn how to fight, disguising it as another dance lesson, and how to shoot arrows by lying to your parents that noble women in the Border Kingdoms love casual archery.

You are ready to escape, but on the very day you plan to leave, your father receives news. The royal family has agreed to marry off their youngest son to you.

Your family will also become nobles and be given their own lands.

But your mothers sees your preparations - a travel suit and a sword. She punishes you severely, forcing a wizard to paralyze you till they day you and your family sail back home.

You realize that your life is over. You will be locked in a castle, and you will never be able to walk the roads freely.

Because running away from a rich family is one thing. Running away from a prince is quite another. He will find you.

Worse, he'll get you pregnant, and your life will be over.

You decide it's better to end it al.

You jump into the sea and let the waters take you.

But your will to live proves to be much stronger than you expected, and you manage to stay afloat.

But once you reach the coast, the mindflayers kidnap you.

The tadpole in your brain is creepy and weird, but after meeting the first mercenary who seeks you out, you begin to appreciate this unexpected ally.

You feel strong and free - you can stand for yourself.

You and Astarion have similar fears. And desires.

As soon as you get to Baldur's Gate, your family knows of your arrival.

And so does your "husband."

Powerful mages come after you and, taking advantage of your weakness after removing the tadpole, kidnap you.

Astarion won't let them take you.

Even if he has to start a war against the kingdom to do so.

He goes to the Undedark, begging spawns to help him.

A whole year passes, but he is finally there, ready to enter the castle.

That's where the battle takes place - between the vampires and the knights. 

Astarion finds you, tired, beaten, and drugged. He carries you to the dungeons to the darkness and freedom.

But...

The prince, realizing he can't have you, kills you.

Astarion kills him on the spot, but by the time he carries you to safety, it's too late.

You've lost too much blood. You're dying.

Nothing can help you.

Astarion begs and cries, but there is nothing he can do.

You ask him to drain you. You want to die in his hands.

Astarion agrees.

A masterless spawn, what can he do?

He holds you for a day in his hands before letting you rest in your grave.

But there's something Astarion doesn't know about himself, or vampires in general.

When the master dies, vampires cease to be spawns.

They become true vampires. Very capable of creating their own spawns.

You wake up in your grave, mad with pain and hunger.

You crawl out with a dead heart in your chest, a permament bite mark, a hunger you've never known, and a pair of fangs.

An invisible thread pulls you away, forcing you to face your master. 

To obey his commands.

Several days pass as you reach him - you cannot hunt because your master has not allowed it, you cannot rest before you face him.

Astarion wakes up and sees you - confused, tired, and hungry.

A slave to his will.

And he realizes that he has unleashed 7,000 full-fledged vampires with the same ability to turn mortals into the undead.

He immediately gives you his blood, freeing you.

You belong to him. Forever. And he belongs to you.

It takes you a while to get used to that. You miss the sun, you can't hunt, and the empty mirrors drive you crazy.

Hunger and cold torment you, and sometimes you curse Astarion for not letting you die (as if it were his fault).

You even try to walk into the sunlight to die, but Astarion manages to drag you back.

You finally make peace with yourself and your condition.

Immortal! Able to crawl on the ceiling! Strong! Eerily beautiful! Immune to necrotic damage!

And through you, Astarion makes peace with himself.

Why bother looking for the cure if you can create a vampire guild and force a "protection racket" on the people of Faerun?

You, a terrible vampire woman, strike fear in some distant village!

Him, a dangerous undead, bothering a rich merchant!

Someone needs to rescue these people. It shouldn't bother them a vampire saves them from another vampire.

Sometimes Astarion "hunts" you, sometimes you "hunt" him.

You have the immortality to share with each other, and you are looking forward into the future.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume

[humbledragon669]

S1E2 – The Book Write Up P2 – 11 years ago and The Present Day/Thursday (2 days to the end of the World) (up to Aziraphale and Crowleys’ arrival in Tadfield)

Alright, let’s get dug straight in, shall we? There’s a lot of background narrative being covered in this section, including the introduction of quite a few new characters.

Let’s start with Anathema. I don’t have a lot to say about her intro scene, but I do have two questions:

Why THE HELL is her mother allowing her to draw in that book? It’s the only copy of a 350-year-old book that contains prophecies that have all proven to be correct. In reality that book would genuinely be priceless, and we will see later in the series that the book is still considered valuable to the family. I don’t like writing notes in my cheap paperback books, so the idea of a child drawing IN COLOURED PENCIL in this book chills me to the bone, yet her mother just lets her do it without so much as a blink of an eye. Mad woman.

We know that the book contains prophecies up until the end of the world. We also know that at least one of the prophecies contains an actual year (1980 – the one with the Apple). Furthermore, we know that Anathema is named specifically in one of the prophecies. Just how many Anathemas did this family have in the hopes that one of them would be the one to save the world? Logically, only children born after 1980 would be eligible but that still leaves at least one generation of descendants prior to the one we see in the show. I suppose there could be another prophecy that states what year “the” Anathema was to be born but I like to believe that somewhere there’s a little group of related women called Anathema all fighting over who gets to save the world.

Next up – Newton. Again, not an awful lot to say here, other than the camera crashing into his bedroom window makes me laugh every time I watch it. I don’t know why this specific moment was chosen to break the fourth wall just as much as I don’t know why I find it so funny.

Having worked in IT for more than ten years, I can say without a doubt that there really are people like poor Newt who are cursed with breaking anything computer-related just by looking at it. They’re exasperating because they usually think the whole thing is one big joke and hold their technology incompatibility up to be some sort of prize. At least Newt has the decency to look abashed by his strange “gift”.

Newton’s home location is confirmed to be Dorking in his first present day scene when we see his mother shipping him off to a new job. We don’t know the location of the United Worldwide Holdings (Holdings) office in which he attempts to establish a hold as a wages clerk, but I can say for certainty that the location of his introduction to Shadwell is central London. For those whose UK geography is worse than my own, it would take over an hour to get to central London from Dorking, regardless of the transport mode of choice. This has always struck me as rather odd – it’s clear that Newt has difficulty holding down a job. The home that he apparently shares with his mother looks pretty run down from the outside, suggesting that money isn’t exactly a commodity in their household. So why would you take a clerical job, that likely doesn’t pay much, in a place that’s over an hour away? Perhaps Neil and Terry just chose Dorking as Newt’s hometown because it has a slightly funny sounding name…

Side note: the chances that the Hot Dog van that Newt and Shadwell get their drinks from would be allowed to park there, right behind the Houses of Parliament and directly in front of Westminster Abbey, are null. I would even go so far as to suggest that Shadwell himself would likely be moved on pretty sharpish from his chosen pulpit. Makes a pretty impressive backdrop though, hey?

Let’s just take a moment to have a chortle at Shadwell’s ideas of what sort of activity would give the game away for any self-respecting witch:

Speaking as the last in the line of Welsh “wise women”, I can (pretty much categorically state) that none of my ancestors have done any of those things. Maybe apart from calling the cats funny names, though most of my maternal line had/have a strong dislike for animals of the feline variety. My cat is called Kishi, which is supposed to be Japanese for “love bound to Earth”. It’s a wholly inappropriate name for her, as she’s really just a massive prick, like every other cat there is.

Why does Newt stop to listen to Shadwell here? Why not just ignore the crazy man on the pedestal like every other person in London? Obviously that would cause a bit of a plot problem. Perhaps it’s his ancestral right driving him into the arms of the Witchfinder Army – there are certainly crazier things that happen in the GO universe! As it turns out, Newt’s recruitment is well-timed, what with there not being any soldiers of rank higher than sergeant, and only one of those at that.

Easter egg time!

This ridiculously quick shot of Shadwell’s newspaper gives us a veritable treasure trove of Easter eggs/nuggets of information for the keen eye:

Shadwell’s address is confirmed as located in Crouch End.

The reference numbers for the adverts begin with the letters “GO”.

There is an advert for a lost book, which we can just make out is one of Terry’s – “Colour of Magic”.

Save the best for last! The advert for a lost hat clearly describes Terry himself, and his signature hat and scarf. Not only that, but he apparently lost it in a book shop in Soho. I wonder which one that could be…

This fleeting glimpse of newspaper is a perfect representation for one of the main reasons I love this show so much. Most casual audience members will never see it. Some more interested parties will see it and think little of it. Others, like myself and likely anybody reading this waffle, will not only see it, but understand the references and then squeal with delight at the little present that was left for us to find. It makes me feel valued as a fan whilst at the same time as if I’m sharing in a secret that the creative team has left for me. This is great television making at its very best.

Quick Easter egg here in Jasmine Cottage: the image that Anathema has pinned on the wall to represent the Antichrist is the same as the one used on the playing cards from episode 1 (albeit in black and white):

When we find ourselves back with Crowley in his apartment, he’s clearly furious with himself about losing the Antichrist. We also learn that he discovered the joys of tending to houseplants in the early 1970s. I’d like to think he inserted them into his life after the event that takes place in 1967 between himself and Aziraphale (which we will see in the next episode) – perhaps he was looking for something that he could try to use as some sort of poor substitute for his true desires? The presence of the houseplants and the timeline for his discovering of them is included in the book, so in honesty I doubt this was the intention for their purpose, but I like the possibility nonetheless. The scene with the houseplants provides a little nugget of information that we can store for reference for later – Crowley’s houseplants actually shake when they’re frightened.

Once again, I don’t have much to say about the next scene: that of Newt’s arrival to the Witchfinder Army’s HQ. I will pause briefly to note the wording of the notice on Shadwell’s door:

This calls to mind the phrase used by Aziraphale to refer to Crowly in episode 1. I’m not sure there’s anything in this as “foul fiend” has often been used to refer to demonic or evil beings. That said, it’s difficult not to try and make some connection, given that the two uses of the phrase are so close together in the show. We will later find out that Shadwell is working for both Aziraphale and Crowley for the same purpose, so defying the “foul fiend” in this case becomes somewhat impossible.

Quick pause for a moment of appreciation for that strut that David pulls off in this next scene. Honestly, there are professional supermodels that couldn’t manage that sort of casual arrogance, even if somebody told them they could stay thin and eat whatever they wanted for the rest of their lives.

This is the first time we find out that Crowly has adopted a first name for himself. I’ll talk about it a little more in the write up(s) for episode 3, so for now this is another piece of information for us to store for later.

I quite enjoy just how awkward Aziraphale sounds leaving a message on the answerphone. Dealing with the unannounced arrival of two angels in his book shop he can handle, but having to leave a message instead of speaking to Crowley direct? Perish the thought. This seems to me a quite human attitude to have – when answerphones started to become commonplace, people (on the whole) hated leaving messages once they realised the person they wanted to speak to wasn’t going to pick up. What I find interesting about the conversation that they do have is that Aziraphale’s suggestion is actually incredibly obvious. In fact, it’s about the only possible scenario that would make any sense. Crowley’s disbelieving expression would suggest he doesn’t feel the same way:

Still, at least this conversation tells the audience that this pair haven’t given up on working together to try and stop Armageddon just yet (it would be a pretty short and disappointing show if they had, wouldn’t it?!).

At this point in the episode, we are introduced to Crowley’s driving style which could be described as suicidal dangerous. He seems pretty confident with it though, so it’s unlikely this is out of the ordinary for him, urgency of their mission notwithstanding. Aziraphale doesn’t actually seem that bothered by it initially, not until we hear the horns of other angry drivers, where it becomes apparent that he’s actually very uncomfortable indeed. We’ll see a fair amount of material on the theme of Crowley’s driving and its effects on Aziraphale in this episode, almost like we’re being set up for something…

Crowley is pretty insistent on the use of “we” in this scene, despite the fact that Aziraphale really didn’t have anything to do with losing the Antichrist (he just took Crowley’s lead on this one). The angel doesn’t really dispute it though, though perhaps he’s just too worried about being discorporated to argue.  What is pretty obvious is that Crowley does not appreciate being told how to drive, and it makes me wonder how many times they have had conversations exactly like this before.

I’m going to wrap this part up with a quick round-up of the “The Them” scenes in Tadfield, prior to the arrival Aziraphale and Crowley in the village. As with much of the other narrative-based scenes in this episode, I don’t have much to say about them, but I did make note of a couple of (potentially) interesting things:

Pepper’s middle name is Galadriel. For those people who have managed to live their lives without any sort of interaction with Lord of the Rings up to now, this is the name of an Elven queen in that universe. As much as it would be cool for there to be some sort of subtextual Clue hidden in her middle name, I think it’s more likely it was just picked because it was a fitting one for the daughter of a reformed hippy.

Anathema recites parts of an infamous speech from Shakespeare’s Macbeth here: Eye of newt and […] tongue of dog. What I find interesting about this is that there are two ingredients in the potion recipe that have been omitted (a frog’s toe and the wool of a bat), leaving only the two elements that can be found in the show – a Newt and a dog. Honestly, I’m not sure what to make of this, not least because I’m not even sure what relevance the rhyme has to what she’s doing at the time she recites it. Not to mention that she hasn’t actually met Newt at this point, so would have no knowledge of his name (to the best of our knowledge, he’s only referred to as “man” or “boy” in Agnes’s prophecies).

Wensleydale brings up the Spanish Inquisition when in the woods, which we know Crowley has claimed responsibility for (to his Hellish masters). I absolutely love the way that the religious reasoning for punishing people is so masterfully undermined by Brian’s earnest reasoning here. I should point out that in addition to being a hereditary Pagan, I am staunchly against organised religion (not faith; I consider that to be an entirely different concept and feel that it’s integral to the spiritual identity for pretty much everybody. I believe we should all have the right to follow our chosen faith without the overbearing interference of organised religion) so the satiric tones that people who were being executed would have been grateful for their persecution if they had understood the reasons behind it fully really strikes a chord with the religion-cynic in me.

There’s an interesting little set detail here in the Them’s den:

These look like old-school weighing scales to me. In the context of the conversation that the Them are having about torturing witches, these could be said to be a reference to the practice of weighing people accused of witchcraft against the weight of a bible to determine their guilt. Alternatively, it could be a reference to the scales we will see later in the series as the summoning object for Famine. Or it could be nothing. I doubt that last one though.

That brings us quite nicely to see Aziraphale and Crowley arriving in Tadfield, which feels to me like a good place to finish this part of the write up. I’m going to be tackling a couple of important moments in the next part (can we say “wall slam”?), which I’m aware have been discussed at length already, but I have things to say and I’m going to say them. They’ve probably all been said before, but they need to get out of my head and into a piece of writing so I’m going to say them anyway. Questions, comments and discussion on this part welcome as always!

[fluffydice]

Let’s talk about Kusuo, specifically what we see in episode 19, season 1 and what it shows about his perception of the men in his life. 

This is the episode where we’re introduced to Kumi and Kumagoro, as well as our first sighting and name drop of Kusuke. We start off with Kurumi reminding Kuniharu that her parents don’t know about Kusuo’s powers. Later, Kusuo says this is why he doesn’t tell his parents about Kumagoro’s true nature. (This is also where Kusuo acknowledges his own tsundere tendencies, which means he’s at least self-aware of his issues with attachment.)

When listening in on Kumagoro’s thoughts, Kusuo comments on them in the same way he comments on his dad’s: with disdain and irritation. To put it short, he thinks he’s pathetic. It’s to the point where he flat out states that “he kinda didn’t wanna go in there” with his grandfather. Importantly, though, he does go in and spend time with the man in the end. And this is notable because we see him do the same thing with Kuniharu when he goes with him to work. What’s odd is that it only takes maybe an hour for Kusuo to reach out to his grandfather. The visit to work wasn’t one that started entirely willingly, and it’s the only example we see of Kusuo being up to spending time with his dad.

The thing is, Kusuo opens up so quickly to his grandfather because of his thoughts, but Kusuo stays away from Kuniharu for those same reasons. His grandfather wants to spend time with Kusuo, while his dad wants him around as an excuse. Even at home, Kusuo is a commodity, one his dad relies on to make his life easier. He’s only valued when he’s being useful. There’s a reason Kuniharu was nervous about using the Love Meter to measure his affection for Kusuo. We know how rapidly it can change; it’s just as fickle as Kuniharu’s love for his son. But the fact that he still tries, even after all these years, means that Kusuo does crave a reliable father figure in his life (and it’s probably why he likes Matsuzaki so much, but that’s for another discussion)

Despite that crucial difference, it’s easy to see the connection between Kumagoro and Kuniharu. And it’s one Kusuo easily takes note of. So that’s why it’s such a shock to Kusuo when his grandfather leaps to hold onto him on the faris wheel, promising to keep him safe. He’s never had a man in his life act like that. The men in his life use him, and hurt him if he doesn’t go along with it. Kumagoro wasn’t fitting into the pattern Kusuo had noticed, and when he got the care he’s supposed to have, it meant a lot to him. Probably more than he realized it would. 

I think it’s important that it was his grandfather too. This place was where Kusuke said that “normal humans wouldn’t accept him.” And I’m sure that by this point, he had heard that many times before. But this was probably the first time he was told someone who was obligated to love him (i.e., his family) would never accept him. Here is where he’s forced to sit there and listen as Kusuke says “If they learn that he is a monster, Grandpa and Grandma will have heart attacks.” 

And the thing is, Kusuo’s experiences with the men in his family would never disprove it. He adores his mom and likes Kumi a lot, even to the point where he trusts her to get things done. But that’s the women in his family. Kumagoro? He’s like his dad, which means he would likely react the same as the man. So finding the unconditional love of a male family member in a time of distress? Yeah. It gets him. 

Because he’s Kusuo Saiki, the one who takes care of others. Not the other way around. And we know it changes his view of his grandfather, because he says that “he is different from dad.” And that’s important because it means Kuniharu isn’t what he’s supposed to be.

Because he’s Kusuo Saiki, the one who takes care of others. Not the other way around. And we know it changes his view of his grandfather, saying that “he is different from dad.” And that’s important because it means Kuniharu isn’t what he’s supposed to be.

[overheard-at-camp-half-blood]

Athena is an Awful Mother- Yes, Even in the Books

As a child of Athena myself, and as a professional Athena hater, I am honestly shocked at how many people think the show itself made her bad, when to me she was always this bad. The books kind of gloss over the stuff she does, and we’re expected to believe she’s one of the “better” godly parents.

I also think that because most of us read these books when we were 11-12, we didn’t quite actually understand the fucked up shit she was doing, but as I get older, the more I question alot of the the decisions she made as both a parent and a “wisdom goddess.”

Because, yeah, a lot of the decisions were straight up horrible. Like, I don’t think you guys understand that there is more issues to her specific brand of neglect, than most of the other gods.

Spoilers for the books below! Also, this will be talking about Athena in the books, not Greek Myth Athena.

I think my main issue with Athena has always been the way her children came into existence. Because children of Athena are born from thoughts in her mind, born to mortal men she admires. Now, as a child, this didn’t seem as bad, because I didn’t understand the complexities of parenting. I still don’t, but I know a bit more from having friends and peers who have children.. and now I see several issues with this.

First, it’s the idea that even at the beginning, she sees her children as commodities. Her children were made to be “gifts” for men, who she admired. And the messed up part, is based on Frederick’s reaction to Annabeth, she doesn’t actually have enough conversations with these men to know if they’re ready to be fathers. And the fact that men getting their PhDs is something she admires… I’m willing to bet a lot of these men aren’t (getting a PHD is already hard, but add a baby on top of that?!?!).

I still think Frederick’s neglect is his own fault, but to say that Athena cannot be blamed for choosing to have her, and then not even being sure if the man she had her with - who had no choice in the matter- even wanted a child? Yeah, that’s fucked up.

But Athena doesn’t even really care.

And I think that’s what bothers me in particular about Athena’s neglect. Is that she had a choice to have not have the children if she wasn’t going to raise them. She chose to have them, whether or not the men she liked even wanted kids.

But she had them anyways- because, again, she sees her children as a commodity.

Now this isn’t to say she has no redeemable qualities. She helped Annabeth find her way to Camp Half Blood. She gave her that invisibility cap. But here’s the thing- nearly every godly parent is seen helping their children in some form or another, or giving them gifts.

Even the bad ones.

Ares is probably a worse godly parent than Athena… but he still gave Clarisse her spear. Zeus turns Thalia into a tree to save her. And idk, I still feel like we all hate Zeus and Ares as parents.

That being said the Mark of Athena… that is what really confirms every negative thought I’ve had about Athena. That she sees her children as commodities and nothing else. Because as much as we love to try to explain it away by saying that it wasn’t actually Athena, it was Minerva… still Athena. Different form, maybe, but it is implied that these gods hold the same beliefs, so this is something that Athena thinks WHOLEHEARTEDLY.

Annabeth refuses to kill the Romans, and then her mother proceeds to call her nothing and disown her. Because again, Athena sees her children as commodities, nothing more. They are gifts given to men. They are resources for her to use to fight her battles- and this whole scene becomes worse when you considering what she was trying to get Annabeth to do-

To find the Mark of Athena, a quest so many of her children have died on, and yet she proceeds to keep sending her children on these quests. But she doesn’t care how many of her own children die on this quest- her pride is more important.

[idkbishsss]

Isa manipulated and gaslit Daryl to get him to escort her and Laurent. She apologised later but then She then started comparing him to his abusive father saying he was like him if he leaves Laurent to go home. She takes Daryl to people who are also trying to manipulate and gaslight him to use him as a protector/soldier, like Laosang says to Daryl he shouldn't go home because his family might be dead while he was away so he should stay with them. Isa is singing the same song. They don't see Daryl as a person only a commodity. Isa starts changing her mind about Laurent being a saviour and is prepared to go to America with Daryl. I would say Isa is like Carol prepared to do anything to save Laurent and that includes what she did to Daryl and there's a thing about vilifying female complex characters. But the way they write her is dumb there is no progression and I don't know if she is just playing Daryl to keep him onside to take them to America. She is a con woman before the world ended so I don't know if she cares for Daryl really and ended up liking him while pretending to at first.

Also Daryl is spiralling and he is starting to go into dark places. He doesn't do well alone and so he just clings to nearest person. This happens to be Isa

Isa is a nun and it's not clear whether she has quit it or not. It's not respectful to nuns who face fetishism already. The other girl who has a boyfriend was a novice but it was made clear she had turned away from the church at that point. Isa keeps acting like she was still a nun so I don't know. If she just stopped and said it was done, it still kept her faith that would be fine

Hello! And thank you for explaining🙏

It was a hot minute since I saw the show. Ngl I don’t really see her as evil for this. It seems it was mainly to get Laurent safe. Which isn’t really a bad thing, what she did was a means to an end.

it is shitty of course, she had no right to do that to Daryl. But still.

I forgot she compared him to his father though😕 That makes me really not like her. (Especially because I feel like Daryl would stay for Laurent just in his own account of not feeling like him. So her saying that is so shitty😞)

But I’m ngl her acting like this, kind of adds to my point. She’s trying to get Daryl to stay there and manipulate him, it working. Which is why Daryl stays there and all this stuff is really happening😭🙏

I hope when him and Carol meet up she snaps some sense into him or something😞

(Also the vilifying of female characters pisses me off so much. Please just let me have a complex female character without her being a bad person. Cough. Maggie. What?)

I agree with your next point yeah. I still think what I’m saying is ture in my og post but it might have to now do more with Isa being like this😓 (I’m still dying on the hill that it doesn’t ruin his character. Especially if he’s being manipulated)

spoilers under for the last point:)

And the last point. I agree but I still don’t think they are TRYING to fetishize nuns. Especially because it’s Daryl who “falls in love” and Daryl who kiss her. Again it’s not clear to me that she likes him back. If she’s really manipulative Liek that then she could very well be lying. Also I would hope they’d address the issue like the did with the other (ex?) nun. (I’m Ngl idk how turning away works so I’m trying to be careful with my words here sorry)

Anyways thank you for the anon (and being so nice I was worried about hate😓 (last time I posted on this fandom…)

[yourmidnightlover]

nevermore…

chapter 2: research

pairing: xavier thorpe x fem!reader

summary: you uncover things about yourself and where you got your powers from.

warnings: a bit of fluff, talking about/another panic attack kinda thing, xavier is a simp as usual, i think that’s it?

a/n: i’m so sorry, some of the tags for the list aren’t working! i’m also sorry that it took so long to get this out! i just want to make sure everything is as good as i want it to be. it’s not proofread very well, but i was able to skim it. anyway, if you want to be added to the taglist feel free to message me or comment on this post :)

chapter 1 here

your dad died when you were young. three, to be exact. at the ripe age of 31 your father took his own life. perhaps that’s what made your mother so temperamental, losing your father.

because you were so young when he passed, you never really learned to miss him. how do you miss someone you don’t remember? your mom boxed away all photos of him and doesn’t mention him very often at all. perhaps that was so you wouldn’t ask any questions, or maybe it was because she was angry with him leaving.

sometimes you wonder what he looked like, if you looked like him. maybe he would have loved you. but, if he loved you then why did he leave? he wouldn’t have.

to be honest, there was always the option of googling his name to see what would pop up. maybe he was some tortured genius. maybe he was an artist or at least someone who loved his child.

maybe you preferred the mystery.

you were used to being alone and not having someone. you weren’t used to someone trying to make you comfortable. you weren’t used to someone making you a priority. you weren’t used to someone being around. being there.

maybe the feeling was growing on you.

“how was your first day?” yoko asked as she seemed to be making her bed for the night. “sorry we didn’t get to spend much time together, i guess our schedules just don’t match up.”

“oh that’s alright,” you assured her as you finished unpacking your half of the room. “it was… good? i kept running into that xavier guy.”

“ahh,” she chuckled as she plopped down on her bed.

“what’s ‘ahh’ for?” you stopped hanging up your clothes to face her. “what’s that mean?”

“just means ‘ahh’,” she continued to laugh at your reaction. after hearing you sigh, she continued, “xavier thorpe doesn’t normally engage with people. ‘loner’ type, remember?”

“i remember,” you nodded, picking up another shirt and putting it on your hanger. “so… so when he insists on being my dance partner, what does that mean?”

she laughed heartily this time, “that means he probably has the hots for you.”

you remained quiet. it didn’t make much sense for him to want to get to know you even in the slightest. you didn’t know him and there was no doubt in your mind that there was nothing special enough about you to draw someone as hot of a commodity as xavier to want to be near you. of all people, it was you.

“yea, whatever,” you laughed with her, hoping she was merely joking about his possible interest in you. “i’m sure he has a few girls lining up at his door, being the tortured artist of nevermore and everything.”

“he used to date bianca, the ‘it’ girl,” she got comfortable in bed, shuffling underneath her blankets and pillows. “not anymore. other than that there really isn’t anyone that any of us know about.”

“what happened between them?” you asked as you finally closed your closet, getting your own bed ready for you to go to sleep.

she took a deep breath, “well, she’s a siren. and rumor has it that he couldn’t trust that his feelings for her were real. again, simply a rumor,” she shrugged as she began to hug one of her pillows.

“hmm,” you shut off the light and got in bed.

maybe tomorrow you would learn more about his need to know you. maybe you would somehow understand it. but, this wasn’t the point of coming to nevermore.

you couldn’t get off track so early. you needed to make your mom proud. you needed to go back home and live your life normally like you had before this entire mess. so you can leave magic and powers and abilities behind you.

“goodnight, yoko,” you said only loud enough to ensure she could hear you.

“goodnight, y/n.”

-

the next morning you woke up feeling more rested than you expected. you were anticipating a sore body and tired eyes but you were only welcome with the dim light from outside peaking through your window.

“it’s saturday,” yoko informed you. “a few of us are going into jericho to get some fresh, not-nevermore-flavored air. i think you should come with us!”

“when are you guys leaving?” you rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you sat up in bed, clad in only your little nightgown.

“about an hour?” yoko had finished brushing out her hair before plopping down at her desk.

you stepped out of bed to stretch before you heard a knock at the door. yoko got up to answer it, you could only see her smile from the door covering whoever this person was.

“is she coming?” you heard the familiar voice ask in a rushed, trying to be hushed, manner. “is she even awake yet?”

“oh, she’s awake,” she stepped out of the way to let none other than xavier walk inside of your room.

you stood there, now crossing your arms as he simply smiled at you from the door. “good morning,” he seemed extremely happy.

“mhmm,” you went into your closet to grab some clothes and shut it, walking into the bathroom to change.

you heard their muffled talking from inside the bathroom.

“dude,” yoko’s voice rang out. “what the hell?” she was chuckling, her voice very lighthearted.

“what?” his voice rose an octave as he responded. “maybe i just wanna spend more time with her?”

“but why?”

“because…” you heard pacing.

“what about her is so intriguing to you?” she chuckled once more, this time humorlessly.

“you do know there are some things you don’t need to know, yoko,” his voice seemed cocky, joking in a manner.

once you came out, now fully clothed, xavier was now sitting on yoko’s bed as she continued to write, you didn't know what, on her desk. this would be your first outing in the town, and you were only hoping for it to not go terribly. avoiding all gazes and stares would be the goal of this little excursion, and you could only pray it would go as planned.

it wasn’t even a half hour later when you and a bunch of other students were boarding a shuttle bus to jericho. the drive was shorter than you expected, which made you feel better about the school’s surroundings. you were terrified of feeling as though you were isolated from the entirety of the outside world. 

“your first outing in jericho has to be perfect,” xavier insisted as he began to walk with you down the rather ordinary street. perhaps you expected something more… nevermore-y. “Which is why i think we should go to weathervane first, my treat, of course. they have pretty decent coffee there."

"oh, coffee," you groaned with excitement as you continued down the small streets. "where's everyone else going?" you pointed behind you where everyone else began walking.

he looked behind him as they began their tread towards the library, "ahh, doing some research at the library i guess."

"i should probably be doing some of that too, research," you clarified. since you were coming into the school already late, you had some work you had to catch up on. you had plants to research, potions to memorize and reading to do. "i'm a bit behind."

"i can help with that," he smiled as you turned to face him, a grin that didn't take up his face but merely told you he would enjoy the time. "i'm kinda top of the class, aside from bianca, of course.”

"hmm," you nodded. you were top if your class back in the normal high school, but things were clearly run differently around here. “i might need that help if i’m being honest.”

his eyes continued to look back at his friends who entered the library. you weren’t sure why he was so interested in the fact that they needed to do whatever research interested them, but he was. perhaps you should’ve been a bit more interested in his interest in their interests.

regardless, the coffee at the weathervane was delicious. xavier ordered what you had ordered, which was a simple vanilla macchiato, and claimed to like it as well. back home, you had truly enjoyed coffee of all sorts. you even had an espresso machine that you treated as careful as you would a child.

“do you know if there’s anyone that could help me?” you spoke bravely as he walked with you to the antique store. “like with the mind stuff?”

“telekinesis?” he offered the proper word for it.

“and i think telepathy too,” you added before glancing up at the tall man. “i can sometimes read minds. it’s just that i have no control over any of it. it scares my m-people. it scares people.”

he looked back down as your eyes began tracing the sidewalk, “my roommate has telekinesis. i can see if he knows much about it if you’d like?”

“has he always had it?” you were dying to know more. you mostly just wanted to know why your powers only started now, rather than when you were born. “his powers? mine started a few months ago for no reason and… i need some answers.”

“i think he was born with it,” he shrugged apologetically. “if you need help learning to control it, i might be able to help. my art, i can make it come to life. it took me a while to be able to control it, and sometimes it still gets out of hand, but i can definitely try to help.”

“why would you do that?” you stopped walking and tugged on his jacket, forcing him to stay with you. “why are you so adamant on-on helping me? you don’t even know me.”

“i could know-or i could get to know you,” his brows rose as if he was trying to convince you. “you could call it a hunch.”

“is that why it was so easy for you to help me the other day?” you knew your eyes held desperation for his answer. they were pleading. your mom always told you that your eyes held all of your emotion. “because you have good instincts?”

“yea,” he nodded as he let his eyes dart all over your face. “maybe that’s why.”

with a nod and a sigh, you grasped onto the fabric of his jacket to lead him back down the sidewalk, as if you knew where you were going. he grasped your hand to lead you to the inside of the sidewalk before continuing the walk to uriah’s heap.

“y’know,” he began as you searched the odd store. “you’ve barely decorated your room. how about we go to one of the good thrift stores here and revamp your room, pun intended.”

“revamp, haha,” you smiled as you looked at stuffed roadkill on a shelf. “i don’t have the money. i didn’t really expect to come here so soon and my mom hasn’t been able to-“

“i’ll pay,” he insisted as he gently grasped your shoulder. “i want to. my dad gives me this allowance type thing. i think it’s to subside his own guilt for never talking to me, but you might as well benefit from it.”

“i can’t,” you refused as you walked away and down a different isle.

“it’s really not a big deal!” he insisted with a smile as he followed you down the rows. “i have it but i don’t want it. please let me help you? i want this place to feel more comfortable for you.”

“i don’t want to get comfortable,” you rephrased as you slammed a trinket back down on its shelf. this place isn’t supposed to be home for you. you don’t need to ‘get comfortable’ because you should be leaving as soon as you can. as soon as it’s safe for you to be in public. “and i don’t want to be some charity case for you.”

“that’s not-“

“i want to leave now,” you promptly walked out of the shop and took a deep breath of the fresh air.

“hey,” his hand pressed gently against your back. “i didn’t mean to upset you. i just want you to know that we all want you here. i want you here. i want to help you.”

“i don’t want to be your charity case,” you argued back as you took another step forward so he would remove his hand.

“you aren’t, you aren’t,” he assured you as he rose his hands.

you felt your breath picking up, your heart began to rapidly beat. “xavier, it’s…” you breathed out. “it’s gonna happen. my head, it’s-“

“okay, remember what i said,” he took this moment to hold onto your hands. “breathe and focus on something, anything.”

“can i-look at me?” you breathed out. “or you look at me. i need to…” his hands went to your face now, cupping it gently. you held onto his arms.

“let’s get somewhere more private, yea?” you nodded as you looked into his eyes once more. he guided you to an alley right around the corner. “in, two, three, four…” he guided your breathing.

“i’m,” you sighed as your grasp on his arms tightened. “i’m okay. my head just… it hurts now.”

“let’s go, yea?” he nodded with you as he wrapped an arm around your waist. you rested your head on his shoulder as he led you to a shuttle bus.

“this is the second time i’ve nearly had a breakdown around you,” you sighed as he helped you off the shuttle. “that has got to be a record or something.”

“what do you say we try to work on controlling those powers if yours?” he paused before looking down at you with a smile.

“i um,” you paused while thinking. “i found an old shed that weems is letting me fix up. maybe we could practice there? i mean, we would need to fix it up a bit more as we go, but-“

“that sounds great,” he agreed as he let you lead the way. “so we have to fix it up, huh?”

“well, yea,” you said as if it were obvious. “i might even let you use it as an art studio, as long as i can still go there whenever i please,” you said smugly as you dragged on his coat sleeve once more. “i already have some pretty cool plans for the place! i mean i haven’t written anything down yet, but it’s all up here,” you used your free hand and tapped your temple.

“well, tell me what to do, and i’ll do it,” he didn’t even know what he was getting himself into.

“ahh, the perfect guy,” you sighed as you led him through the woods to the shed you had already cleared out.

once you opened the shed, a breath of relief flew through you. you sat on the concrete floor and insisted he sit beside you by patting the ground. he took your queue with a smirk, his long legs crossing underneath one another into a cross-cross applesauce position.

“lots of potential,” he nodded as he watched your face glow with creativity.

“i know,” you smiled for once. “i can’t wait to get to the good stuff in here. it’s gonna be great! i was thinking about stringing some lights along the trims up top,” your hands motioned to what you were talking about. “and maybe even mrs. thornhill would let us borrow some non-carnivorous plants to help decorate! and then some nice vines trailing along with the lights…” now both of your hands were motioning towards the ceiling. “and your art could decorate the whole place! and then a few chairs, or maybe even beanbags for the aesthetic, with a nice, antique table for your art supplies and then a few easels for your art! it’ll be wonderful.”

“have you done this before?” he chuckled at how eager you were. “you seem so excited about it all. it’s cute.”

“i used to help my mom restore things,” you nodded before simply picking at your own nails. “my grandmother used to do that with her, and her mom with her… you get the point.”

“that’s nice,” he grabbed one of your hands to stop your picking. “so you and your mom are close?”

“we… we were,” you let your fingers intertwine with his in a moment of weakness. “she’s a bit indifferent about my new abilities. i dunno why… but i never really knew my dad. he died when i was young. so it’s always just been me and her. now, it’s just me, i guess.”

“i’m sorry,” both his hands cradled your own. “i’m honored that you’re letting me help, though,” he was interrupted by his phone ringing. “i’ll be right back.”

he stepped outside for a few minutes to take the call. you simply waited for him with your head thrown back against the walls of the shed. you hadn’t told anyone about your dad. your mom barely even talked about him. you never knew why.

“sorry, that was yoko,” he entered the shed once more. “they’re all on there way back, and they have some information for you, about telekinesis.”

“is that what they were doing at the library?” he nodded. “what’d they find out?”

“i dunno yet, mystery,” he smiled. “but we’re about to find out,” he grasped your hand and helped you off the floor.

once leading you through the school and to a statue of edgar allen poe, he simply snapped twice. the statue moved to the side, revealing a spiral staircase leading to some sort of secret library. his hand remained in yours the entire way.

“hey!” yoko greeted with an eager wave. “so, we went searching for some things for you… regarding telekinesis. of course, we had to go to the library in jericho but that’s only because they have this secret-anyway we found some information!”

“okay,” you nodded as you got to the bottom of the staircase. “what is it?”

“well,” yoko began to explain. “there has only been one other person who became telekinetic throughout their life. turns out, it happens when the life around you most needs it.”

“who was this only other person?” you wondered out loud.

“his name was john y/l/n,” kent, a siren, informed you.

your face went blank. it can’t be. there’s no fucking way that your father had these powers. why was your mother so frightened of you if your father had the same gifts?

“that’s my…” you felt tears in your eyes.

“what is it?” xavier’s hand held onto your shoulder worriedly. “what’s wrong.”

“that’s my dad.”

taglist:

@honey-with-tea @let-love-bleeds-red @katiemrty @im-done-with-this-im-out @princess-depresso @thequietreader90 @dakotali @xlittlemissydjx @l4venderia @whiteboycarlgallagher @darknessgirlgachalifeoficieel @krispybearbouquet @lilipop1226 @czeniess @gardensofivy @iloveurgf @lwesodra @pauphs @nctma15 @evernycto @lydeebugz @erens1andonly @juno-1610 @yourfavoritefangirl @panicattheeverywherekid @cmac-writes @wilddxchildd @arunaposeidondottir @sp1ng @pygmy-huff @bisexual-and-intellectual

[maybankiara]

PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

22: BETWEEN THE LINES

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead. w/c: 3.3k a/n: addie and holden having a sweet moment at last...or are they? read on wattpad previous part | series masterlist

Virgin Mary | 3:47am what are the odds on this being a big mistake

Me | 8:02am 0:1000000000 Me | 8:02am stop freaking out, you’ll be fine

Virgin Mary | 8:30am Addie Virgin Mary | 8:30am i am going to Tom’s Virgin Mary | 8:31 amfor all of the fucking holidays 😩

Me | 8:35am Marianne Me | 8:36am my beloved Me | 8:36am you said you wanted this, you said that this is the best for your relationship, you said that this was the right thing to do Me | 8:36am and Tom said he wants to take this step Me | 8:37am you’re just scared bc it’s a big deal

Virgin Mary | 8:38am AND WHAT ABOUT IT 😡

Me | 8:40am it’s okay to be scared Me | 8:40am but you’ll be fine ❤ Me | 8:40am let me know when you land

Virgin Mary | 8:42am supportive bitch Virgin Mary | 8:42am ❤

◇

It’s evening time at the Weatherby-Mallory residence, and there are nearly half a dozen’s worth of cups scattered over the living room. Some are on the TV stand, next to a framed photo of the roommates and their friend group that Wes got Marianne for her birthday; some are next to the wall, far enough to avoid potential spills; and some are on the coffee table, nearly hidden between pages and pages of files, all compiled into little folders with corners sticking out.

  It would be an ordinary evening for Addie, except this tends to be the setting of her bedroom, not the living room. With Marianne gone for the next few weeks, though, Addie’s life has already consumed even the shared areas of the flat, and Addie finds herself to be a bit spoiled by the newfound commodity – she doesn’t see how that tiny space was ever enough for this much work. Although, now there are Holden’s files, folded away between and over and under her own, so she may be overestimating it a little.

  Her phone dings, somewhere in the pile. She drops down from the couch, a little ungracefully – her foot gets stuck in the pillow and she nearly kicks Holden’s shin tugging it out. He chuckles and she groans, and then she’s rummaging through the files until she finds the phone, its screen still lit from Marianne’s text.

  ‘They landed!’

  ‘Oh, good,’ says Holden.

  ‘Mhm. I’ll tell her you say hi.���

  Addie’s fingers are fast at typing, even though she needs to fix a typo here and there. She asks Marianne how the flight was – it’s always a necessary question, seeing as Marianne likes flights just about as much as Addie likes clowns. Maybe even less. The one time they’d flown together to Boston, Marianne had a full-blown panic attack during one of the turbulences and Addie spent the rest of the flight trying to calm her down.

  But it’s good, she tells herself. She had Tom with her.

  (Or that’s why it wouldn’t be good, her thoughts say, and she shoves them away.)

  ‘You look worried.’

  Addie huffs. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You sure?’

  She glances at her phone once more before putting it down, on yet another pile of papers still needing to be looked at. She gets back up on the couch, draws the fuzzy scarlet blanket back over herself, then pulls her knees close to her chest; Holden’s eyes don’t leave hers.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admits. ‘Should I be? I mean, Marianne and Tom… You know they’ve not been on the best of terms. Even if Marianne says things are better now.’ She lets out a little sigh, stretching her legs across the couch, almost far enough to touch Holden’s thighs. ‘I hope they don’t kill each other.’

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ he says. Addie half expects him to put a reassuring hand on her leg—it feels like one of those moments—but he doesn’t. ‘They have their ups and downs, but so does everybody.’

  ‘Yeah, but this will either make or break their relationship.’

  ‘I thought you said they’ve been doing better since after her birthday.’

  ‘They are,’ she says. She pulls her legs back, wrapping her arms around them and resting her head on her knees. ‘I just don’t know if that’s enough.’

  ‘Still, it’s more than likely that this will improve things between them.’ He gives a smile that’s both soft and the sort of smile you give when you’ve said all there is to say about something. ‘Come on, work will distract you from worrying about them.’

  Addie bites her lip. ‘Yeah.’

  His gaze drops and he’s fully immersed into a Balance Sheet that Patty asked them to look at. His red pen is quick to run across the paper, and it’s as if any thought of Marianne and Tom has already vanished from his head. 

  She tells herself that Holden’s right. She’s too subjective. 

  But she doesn’t manage to convince herself of that, nor does she manage to get back to work. The papers are staring at her – notes upon notes of information about a client’s accounts and receipts of purchases of property involved, as he is suing a property investment company for scamming him out of about a hundred grand. At this point, Addie’s looked over the case so much that the numbers are starting to merge, the calculations are dancing on the page, and some of them even look like the letters M and T until she blinks it away.

  Usually, Addie loves catching scammers. She loves fighting for the good side. She loves when she can be crunching numbers and putting them into actual economic trends of property values and similar – but it’s just not coming to her. 

  So she puts the papers back on the coffee table, picks up her mug, instead. 

  ‘They were arguing a lot last night,’ Addie says and waits for Holden to look up at her before continuing. ‘He came over because they were leaving together and I heard them yelling all the way from my room. Neither of them really wanted to go like this, but they bought the tickets back in, like, October. Before all this shit went down. And they didn’t want to waste them.’

  Holden glances down at the papers, then back at her. ‘Is that the only reason why they went? Because of the tickets?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s what Marianne hinted at, but I still think they’re both hoping for fresh air to do them some good.’

  ‘What do you mean, fresh air?’

  ‘Metaphorically,’ she explains. ‘Different country, different setting, different circumstances. I spoke to Tom the other day and that’s kind of what he said, too. Changing where they are might be the thing they need.’

  ‘That’s not really how things work, though.’

  ‘Why not?’ Addie cocks her head. ‘They’re getting a new perspective on their relationship. Taking the next step, with her meeting his family.’

  Holden lowers the files onto his lap, running his hands through his hair. SHe knows that look—the I’m going to give you all my attention now look—and waits for his eyes to meet hers, heavy and unwavering. He takes a deep breath before he speaks, his lips shut tight until he’s ready, and she’s seen him do this so many times before. Always before he says something he’s convinced is right about.

  So Addie is waiting. Expecting. Not sure what she’s going to hear. 

  ‘Look, you can’t fix a relationship that’s not really going anywhere,’ Holden says, at last. ‘Both people need to put the effort in. To be the people they need to be in this relationship, for the other person. You can change the environment the relationship’s in, sure, and maybe it works for a while, but it doesn’t change that if they’re not a good fit, they’re not a good fit. Marianne keeps the issues between them from you for a reason, and that’s because she knows the truth.’

  He gives her a tight-lipped smile and then his eyes and hands are back on the file in his lap; if Addie wasn’t a part of the conversation, she could’ve been fooled that it hadn't happened. Over. Just like that.

  ‘Well, I think they’re a good fit. They care about each other enough to at least try to be the partner they need to be for one another.’

  Holden glances at her, but doesn’t say anything other than ‘Fair’.

  Addie just stared at him.

  ‘I’m going to make myself a cup of tea,’ she says, getting herself out of the blanket. ‘You want some?’

  ‘Sure,’ says Holden, not looking up from the paper he’s scribbling notes on.

  The walk to the kitchen is brisk. It’s a little bit chilly out of the blanket, and she thinks she should probably turn the heating up a little – but the tea will warm her up enough. She fills the kettle and turns it on, rubbing her upper arms as she leans against the countertop. The sight of snowflakes moving in the wind past her window makes it feel even chillier.

  Addie’s mind replays Holden’s words, over and over again, as she hears the papers rustling in the living room. She wonders if he’s right – if she’s just hopeful and naive, thinking that her best friend could come out of this victorious. Marianne is fighting for it. Tom is fighting for it. They’re trying, and Addie feels like that’s the bit that Holden is missing. They’re not just accepting the status quo – they’re trying to find the issues and fix them. 

  Or, really, Addie is starting to think that it’s the effort to be the right person for someone that is worth more in a relationship than just being the right match from the beginning. It’s about growth, and most importantly, growing with the person. 

  That is why she thinks Marianne and Tom will stick it out. Will see how far they’ve come when all the worries are stripped away, once in England, and why they’ll be able to bring it back all the way to Atlanta. 

  The kettle brews to a halt, steaming their kitchen window until she can no longer discern the snowflakes. She thinks of Drew, and how excited he was for the snow, and wishes she could go out and have fun in it – anything not to have to think about things. 

  She doesn’t think Holden would be too keen on it, though, so she abandons the idea. Really, maybe it’s a good thing. It’s the most productive she’s been in ages, only coming to the kitchen to brew tea or coffee, or eat, in between hours-long bursts of working on cases. She’s burned through more tea in the past few days Holden’s been here than she has in months, it feels like, but she’s also burned through as many cases. She can’t think of the last time she was so productive. 

  Or so tired.

  Addie calls out to Holden. She pours water into the mugs, one for his coffee, and one for her tea (she doesn’t think she’ll ever fully forgive Marianne for getting her so addicted to tea when coffee is right. there.) and get back to work in the living room. Everything ends with getting back to work.

  If she gets all the work for the internship done today, she could spend the next few days focusing solely on fixing up the loose threads from her thesis, and then hopefully things will remain at a constant level and she’ll manage to get everything done and over with before she goes home.

  Home. 

  Her plane ticket is booked for less than two weeks from today, yet she can hardly picture herself coming home. She’s not been since last Christmas, and even though her family came to visit back in May, it’s not the same. She was working on her Master’s, even then, and maybe Addie is just a little bit tired of working.

  ‘We’re having tea in the kitchen,’ she announces. ‘We need a break.’ 

  Holden argues they can keep working. Addie reiterates her statement, holding the mug to her chest, and he drags himself into the kitchen a few moments later, frowning at her lazily as he leans his side on the doorframe.

  ‘What’s the long face for?’ Addie asks.

  ‘We have a lot of work to do.’

  ‘Yeah, but we also deserve fifteen minutes of not doing it.’ She nods towards the dinner table, where his coffee sits, steaming. ‘Fifteen minutes for a cup of coffee won’t kill you.’

  He walks over to the table with a defeated sigh and Addie follows. He takes a sip and huffs at the temperature, and she can’t help but laugh as she holds her hands over the steam of her tea – and when he blushes, she presses her palms to his cheeks. 

  ‘Addie,’ he says, smiling. ‘Your palms are wet.’

  Addie just shrugs. ‘They’re also really warm.’

  ‘They always are.’

  ‘No,’ she says, ‘they’re always cold when I’m working because my blood circulation is terrible and stress makes it worse.’

  ‘Right.’

  His hands are over hers for a couple of moments before he brings them all down, and she’s back to holding her tea. Her thoughts grow calmer and the tea warms her up on the inside as much as it warms her hands – Addie feels lighter. Watches the snow fall, and enjoys the moment of peace.

  ‘I’m really excited to get home,’ she says, feeling a smile coming on. ‘My sister, Liyah said she’s got a bunch of things planned for us and my dad apparently has a list of things he wants to teach me before I’m gone again.’

  ‘Things like?’

  ‘Cooking, I think. Even though I have Marianne for that – or, actually, probably because of that. Probably car stuff, too.’

  ‘What, like changing a tyre?’

  ‘Ha-ha. Very funny.’

  Holden shrugs, like he’s trying to say he had to do it. Even the self-satisfied grin is starting to break through, and she can’t help but smile back.

  ‘He wants me to get a car,’ she explains. ‘To be less dependent on other people and public transport.’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea.’

  ‘But I like public transport,’ Addie argues. She thought she knew that – that he’d be on her side in this. ‘It’s better for the environment.’

  ‘That’s a fair point.’ He glances around the kitchen. ‘You’ve still got leftover lasagne from Marianne left before she left, right?’

  Addie nods, accepting that the conversation is over. ‘You wanna heat some up?’

  Holden nods and she spends the next few minutes watching him struggle with navigating his way around the kitchen. It’s amusing, really, and she doesn’t feel bad about it – she laughs into her cup every single time he tries to find anything, and looks for it in the wrong place at least five times first.

  ‘I don’t know if I’m going to stay home for long,’ he says then, once the oven’s on and the lasagne is finally heating up. There’s an expression on his face that Addie doesn’t recognise – heavy. Conflicted. ‘My brother’s in his teenage destruction arc and it’s driving my dad crazy.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you help him out?’

  ‘He can handle it better than I could, even with his Parkinsons.’

  Addie finds herself staring at him, comprehending this information – information that she feels like should’ve come up at least once in their just-under-two months of being together. ‘Your dad has Parkinsons?’

  ‘Early stages,’ he says. ‘It’s not really a big deal. They caught it early and he’s on medication, so he’s doing alright.’

  ‘You never said.’

  ‘Didn’t think it was important.’

  ‘Holden, it’s your dad.’ She waits for him to say something, but he’s just staring at his cup. ‘I feel like that’s more of a reason for you to stay longer. To help him out.’

  Holden sighs. He leans back into the chair and she feels his legs brush hers before finding their own space under the table. ‘He’s been going fine. Jack’s only fourteen, so it’s not that bad. Besides, if I’m home and having to look after Jack, I can’t concentrate on work. I can’t risk the quality of my work dropping because of that. Don’t want to reduce my chances of Grubson giving me the job at the end.’

  Addie didn’t even know that was what he wanted – but she doesn’t have the energy to deal with another bombshell. ‘It’s nice that you’re so determined and hardworking, and it’s one of the things I like about you most. But at the end of the day, no one should put work over people they care about.’

  ‘Well,’ he says, slowly, as if choosing words carefully. ‘Work’s what puts bread on my table.’

  Addie’s jaw clenches. ‘Work won’t be by your side if things go sideways and you need someone to help you out.’

  Holden has a confused face, then frowns. ‘Am I meant to read between the lines?’

  ‘No, I’m not—I wasn’t talking about us,’ she clarifies, feeling her heart thumping in her chest. ‘I was talking about choosing work over family.’

  ‘Right,’ he says.

  He doesn’t say anything else. Addie wishes he would.

  The oven timer runs out and he tends to the lasagne, leaving her to ruminate in her own thoughts. She refuses to – she’s thinking about Holden’s relationship with his family and his work, the fact that he hasn’t felt like sharing the fact that his single father has Parkinsons and a teenage son to look after, or the fact that he wants to stay at Grubson, even though she thought he’d said it wasn’t where he could put his degree to best use. But money talks, and so does stability, and Addie feels like she neglects to think that’s one of the most important things for people who grew up in unstable households like he has. 

  They eat the lasagne and her thoughts don’t shut up. 

  ‘So,’ he says, ‘have you found any evidence of the scam in the Magellan v The State case yet?’

  ‘I don’t feel like talking about work,’ she says.

  ‘Okay.’

  He helps her clean up the kitchen once they’re finished and tells her to thank Marianne for making the lasagne. They’re back to work, but Addie’s motivation is long gone, and it’s taking a lot more effort than it should to get things done. To read. To make notes. To sit by Holden and bite her tongue before she asks questions that’ll probably reveal more things he hasn’t told her. 

  She glances out of the window and notices the sky’s gotten too dark to see the snowflakes anymore. Her heart clenches, and she realises she’s done. She’s tired. The kind of tired that tries to drag you down with gravity and not let you get up until a year has gone by.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ she announces. ‘I can’t think anymore.’

  Holden looks up from the heap of papers he’s holding, taking out the pen from between his lips. ‘That’s fine, I was thinking about going home soon anyway.’

  ‘I thought you were staying another night?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry,’ he says. ‘I need to keep working, and I don’t want to bother you..’

  Addie lets out a surprised chuckle. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not bothering me. You can keep working in the living room as long as you want, I don’t mind.’

  ‘Yeah…’ he looks around, then leans forward and kisses her on the lips. ‘It’s better I go. If I stay, I’ll just want to join you, and I’ve got too much left to do.’

  ‘Okay,’ she says. He kisses her again, and she feels her cheeks heating up.

  In the end, she walks him out, and lies in bed alone, knowing she’s going to be alone in the entire flat, and she’s going to wake up alone, too. Thinking about everything Holden said. Think about the things he didn’t. Not only that, but Marianne is on the other side of the planet, and Addie is unable to do anything if things take a turn for the worse.

  It’s not a good feeling.

◇

23: A CASE OF THE BUTTERFLIES 

most people on the taglist have left/changed their urls, so lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

[solitaireships]

❓️ for the prompt meme (one of my favorite emojis tbh) - effiesaude

Emoji prompts: ❓ - “is this what you want?”

This prompt is now officially the longest thing I've written for on here, so thank you for the suggestion @orlz! I ended up going with Alexander for this, tho I did consider using Bruce for a bit bcs I associate that emoji with him a lot lol

Rating: G

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2033 words

Content warning: Mentions of plagues/epidemics

Divider by newlips (who apparently deactivated, but I have the link to the post with the dividers)

The sound of a bell ringing draw’s Xenia’s attention away from the monotony of reviewing shipping details at the counter of her bookshop. The work day is drawing to an end, and with that there always seems to be fewer people stopping by the bookshop. She doesn’t mind the break— there are always plenty of customers around lunch. But as her shift draws closer and closer to ending, a final push to keep herself from getting too tired is appreciated.

And it’s even more appreciated when she sees none other than Alexander walking in.

“General,” Xenia greets with a nod.

“Detective,” he replies. 

“Give me just ten more minutes.”

“Take all the time you need.”

He says that, but Xenia knows that time is a precious commodity. For the two of them, she would argue that it’s even more precious.

Xenia had thought that Alexander and his troops would leave after the Polyhedron fell. They had only come here to help deal with the Sand Pest. She had expected that they would leave after it had been dealt with, going off towards another military campaign. Especially with the commander at their head— everyone knows about Alexander Block, how he rose through the ranks to become a general younger than anyone had before. Big things were supposed to be ahead of him.

And yet he got sent to a dying town. He was sent to a village ravaged by a plague, with no medical team sent along with him to lend a hand. Sent with troops who planned a mutiny against him, left to solve a problem with no clear solution. It feels like too much of an oversight to have been an actual mistake, but as much as Xenia loves to pull at the threads of a mystery, trying to prove some grand conspiracy is beyond the scope of her amateur detective work.

Regardless, Alexander’s time in the Town-on-Gorkhon is far from what anyone could have expected it to be. With it already being outside of what’s expected, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that the general decided to stay in town after the Polyhedron came down.

He’s kinder than Xenia would have expected from a man nicknamed General Ashes. He didn’t want to leave the town to heal on its own, left to pick up the pieces after an unimaginable tragedy. Not all of his troops were happy about the decision to stay in town, and neither were all of the town’s citizens. 

But at the end of the day, Xenia thinks that this will be for the best. When someone’s recovering from a sickness, others can help with the healing process. She doesn’t see a reason why things should be different for a town recovering from an illness. 

Though she might be biased in wanting Alexander to stay here. That was another surprising thing that came from him staying in town these past couple of months. 

Xenia had expected a lot of things from Alexander, but the last thing that she had expected was that she would start dating him. And for once not being able to predict things isn’t terrifying. Caring for him is one surprise she doesn’t dislike. 

Xenia finishes putting the store’s earnings away for the day, locking it up in a vault built into the floor behind her counter. When she gets back up, Alexander is standing by the shop’s door like he’s keeping guard, making sure that no one can come in to interrupt the closing process.

He’s affectionate in his own way. Xenia can appreciate that. She knows she doesn’t show she cares in the most traditional ways either. 

“I should be ready to go when you are,” Xenia says.

“You’re getting faster at that,” Alexander notes as she makes her way over to join him by the door.

“I’m trying to make the best of my time,” she says. 

After all, her time with Alexander is limited. The Powers That Be will always demand more of him, and the Capital will always find a way to keep him busy. He can’t be the town’s guardian forever.

Xenia and Alexander have about a month left together. Twenty-seven days including today— Xenia has been keeping track. She has to make sure she savors every moment she has with him. 

Xenia has never had much experience with relationships. She’s not the best with people in general. She’s good at studying them— figuring out how they work from a distance. But when it comes to getting close to them, she’s always struggled. 

And yet she managed to grow close to Alexander over the course of these last few months. Closer than she has been with anyone, really. She’s dated people twice before, but it wasn’t like this. She’s never fallen this hard or fast before.  

Xenia hates that she finally found someone she could see herself spending the rest of her life with, and things between them could end so soon. Maybe they can try to make things work even while he’s away. She’s always been a problem solver first and foremost, and she’s come up with a couple of ideas for how they could keep their relationship alive while they’re apart. 

But she’ll make the time she has left with Alexander last. 

Xenia will miss getting to go on walks with him like this though. Usually they talk, but today they’re quiet. Still they match steps with each other, the cold winter air from the steppe making Xenia wish she still had a face mask on her. But without that to provide any warmth she inches closer to Alexander so their arms brush against each other. 

Neither of them usually like public displays of affection. It feels awkward to know people could see them being close like this. The town knowing that they’re in a relationship is different from being able to see it, so they try not to do any more than hold hands in public. 

But Alexander doesn’t shy away from Xenia now. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, keeping her close. It’s sweet, something that’s usually reserved for private moments between the two of them.

“You’re warm,” Xenia compliments.

“Thank you,” Alexander says.

They keep going in silence for a while. The streets of the town are confusing to most, but Xenia’s memorized the flow of them. They’re curving and uneven, cutting odd paths more like something you’d see in biology than city planning. But there’s something about them that helps Xenia to think.

Mainly she tends to think about the future. The things she thinks of now aren’t as bleak as they used to be. But she keeps having thoughts of Alexander being there with her— maybe one day moving in, staying with her and being there for her like no one has before. Through birthdays and holidays and all of the unpleasant things that inevitably come with the passage of time. 

Things won’t work out that well. They don’t usually for her. But Xenia can’t stop thinking about staying with Alexander, about him staying a part of her life for as long as possible.

They need to talk about things. Xenia hates doing that. But they need to.

“You leave at the end of the month,” Xenia says. It sounds too sudden, but it’s a good enough start to the conversation.

Alexander nods. “I do.”

“We should talk about that.” 

Xenia doesn’t like the thought of looking at Alexander right now, so she focuses on the streets ahead of her. They’re winding with uneven cobblestones, and along the path she sees some twyre growing, somehow persisting despite it being out of season.

“What do you want to do?” she asks.

“What I’d like would be to continue dating you. But the distance makes things complicated. I don’t want to subject you to that,” Alexander says. 

“Right.”

At least it’s nice to know that he wishes they could stay together too. It doesn’t stop the ache in Xenia’s chest at the thought that this conversation may lead to them breaking up. 

Maybe she should give up. But she’s never been good at doing that. She’s always been desperate to find a way to make things work with everything. 

“But maybe first we could see how things go while you’re away,” Xenia says, glancing towards Alexander out of the corner of her eyes. 

“As in?” he questions. 

“As in we don’t break things off and try to make things work from a long distance,” she says. 

Alexander frowns. It’s hard to tell if he thinks the idea is bad or if he’s worried that Xenia’s just saying that because it’s what he’d want to hear. She’s pretty sure it’s the latter. 

“Is this what you want?” Alexander asks after a moment. “I’ll be away for months.”

“I know.” 

And that’s a thought that Xenia hates. She wishes that she could keep him here with her. The town is safer than any battlefield would be, and she’d be able to see his pretty face everyday. 

Alexander has responsibilities. Xenia knows that. She can’t be selfish and demand he stay. But she wishes she didn’t have to lose him. Not when she’s finally found a relationship that she thinks could last. 

“But I still want to be with you,” Xenia says. “We can write letters until you’re able to visit on leave. If you want to come here anyway.”

“I would like that. Though I’m not sure that I’m as gifted as you are with letter writing,” Alexander says. 

“You can’t be that bad. And either way, I’ll like hearing from you.” 

And, most importantly, getting letters from him will reassure her that he’s safe and alive. 

“I’ll like hearing from you too,” Alexander says. “I like you a lot, angel.”

It takes Xenia a second to process that he said the last part in English. His words are a little awkward and stilted— he’s clearly still getting the hang of the language.

“You— that was English,” Xenia manages to force out when she remembers she should speak. 

“It needs some work,” Alexander admits. “But you’ve always spoken to me in my native tongue. I thought you’d appreciate it if someone learned yours.”

Xenia struggles to find her words more now than she did when she thought they were going to break up. This might be the kindest thing someone has ever done for her, and she doesn’t think that Alexander even realizes how important this is. They haven’t said I love you to each other yet, but this conveys the idea just with different words. It feels like a commitment, like he’s saying he’s here for the long haul. Like maybe the thoughts Xenia had of settling down together in the future might be possible. 

“Thank you,” Xenia says. “I— how much have you learned?”

“Not much. I’ve been practicing for a week. Mostly more, ah, romantic phrases. I hoped to surprise you,” Alexander says. 

Xenia rests her hand on his back. “It was a really good surprise. Would you understand me if I said, you’re the handsomest man I’ve ever met?”

“I… understood the end.”

Xenia supposes she should have guessed he was more focused on learning ways to compliment her than to respond to her own flirtations. 

“How about you’re very pretty?” she tries. 

Alexander’s cheeks redden and Xenia’s pretty sure it’s not just from the cold. “Thank you.”

“You have a cute accent,” Xenia says with a laugh, leaning closer into him. 

“Your accent speaking Russian is very cute,” he replies, quick as ever to try to turn the compliment back on to her. 

“Thank you. I could help teach you more English if you wanted. Maybe I can give you some lessons in our letters.”

“I would appreciate it,” Alexander says. He holds her even closer with his arm as they turn down a narrower street, like he's trying to keep her fused to his side. “I really do like you a lot.”

“I like you a lot too,” Xenia promises. It’s not quite an I love you, but it’s close enough. And for once it’s easy to think that she could stay like this, feeling happy and loved, forever.