#there’s something entirely different causing tears rather than just canon breaks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

Wilbur wakes up one morning to find white in his hair. This is—irritating, for several reasons, but that's all it is. An annoyance. A distraction.

There's nothing deeper at work here. There's nothing wrong at all.

(Or, the stresses of the presidency give Wilbur a white streak of hair earlier in canon, and somehow, this serves as the cry for help he can never bring himself to make.)

(word count: 5,039)

(second part) (third part) (fourth part)

--------------------

Part One

He first notices it because he chances a glance in the mirror. Not something he does often, these days, because he dislikes looking at his appearance for longer than necessary. The mirror only tends to show him his flaws and imperfections: the bags under his eyes that he can never quite hide, the way his cheekbones jut out in too-telling prominence, the way his uniform never seems to fit right lately, and not just because he almost never finds the time or energy to give it a proper wash.

So, he doesn’t look in the mirror beyond a cursory glance in the mornings as he’s dragging himself out of bed, just long enough to be sure that his veneer of professionalism is holding, because frankly, he has nothing if he doesn’t have that. No one’s called him on his slowly slipping standards just yet, and he intends to keep it that way. He is president, after all; he must lead by example, and if the nation is to be a success then he must be as well. Or at least, his citizens must believe that he is.

But this morning, his gaze lingers just ever-so-slightly longer than he normally allows. And then, his vision catches on—something. He thinks he must be mistaken, and he hasn’t the time to figure it out, really, but he can’t help but lean in closer, searching his own reflection. What he sees makes dread beat out a two-timed rhythm in his chest.

There is white in his hair.

Not much. Just a few strands. But it’s strange enough to catch his attention. There has never been white in his hair before. He can’t imagine what caused it. He’s not that old. But nevertheless, the white is present, and it’s not so obvious that someone would catch it on a first glance, probably, but it stands out enough against the dark brown of the rest of his hair that it’s not inconceivable that someone might spot it. Spot it, and then ask questions. Questions that he would not want to answer, if only because it would be ridiculous for someone to be grilling him about his hair of all things.

He doesn’t want to deal with it. That’s the only reason why he’s bothered, surely.

He’s going to be late to a meeting if he dallies for too much longer. So his gaze flicks about his room—which is fairly bare, fairly utilitarian; decorating’s been the last thing on his mind in recent weeks, and it would be a waste of time that he could be devoting to bettering his nation—and lands on a sword leaning against the wall. One that he’s barely touched recently, and that he hardly knows how to use, and certainly not well at that, but if he’s looking for a quick solution, it will serve. So he crosses the room, snatches it up, and returns to the mirror.

With one hand, he picks out the white strands. With the other, he uses the sword to slice them off. Crude, and he’s certain he gets a few brown strands as well, but it’s effective, and that’s what’s important.

It only takes a few minutes more after that to prepare himself. He emerges from his room confident, his head held high, a president ready to take on the challenges of the day. Never mind that he barely slept last night. Never mind that he’s stopped eating regularly, grabbing a bite only when his schedule allows him. Never mind that he’s been feeling jumpy of late, more anxious, that he’s taken to tracking the whereabouts of everyone around him at all times, if only to know that they’re safe. Never mind any of that. He is the president, and sacrifices must be made.

He is, after all, only as good as the country he builds.

---

The incident slips his mind in the following weeks. It’s simply not important when there are so many other things to accomplish; infrastructure and food and an economy and all the other intricacies that go into running a nation, that lead to endless stacks of paperwork for him and hopefully, prosperity for his people. All the other intricacies that, as it turns out, he has no idea how to handle, but he’s trying.

Because it’s all worth it, if it’s for them.

But one night, he’s tugging off his hat, shucking off his coat, tears already pricking at his eyes for no other reason than the feeling of being terribly, desperately overwhelmed, and he happens to glance at that hated mirror. Rather than alighting on any of the other aspects of his physicality that annoy him—most recently, it’s the fact that he always feels that he’s not standing straight enough, and that other people are judging him for his lack of professionalism—he focuses on his hair.

There’s white in it. Again.

And more of it, this time. Not too much, still, but definitely more. Enough that someone else might actually notice. He’s not sure how he didn’t, up to this point. He strides over to the glass, already tugging at his hair hard enough to hurt, and sure enough, there they are. Strands of snow white hair. Like he’s bleached them, except—he takes one and rubs it between his fingers—without the brittle quality that often-bleached hair tends to take on.

He doesn’t understand why this is happening. He can’t feel anything about it other than annoyance, because this is just one more thing to deal with, one more thing to add to the pile. And it’s made worse because it’s practically a vanity project; sure, he doesn’t want people bothering him about it, but logically, he knows that hair shouldn’t be such a big deal to him. It’s only that professionalism is important, and he already feels like he’s not doing enough in that area. Not enough to garner the respect that a good president should command, at any rate. So he needs to keep this under control.

Somehow, the thought of doing anything about it tonight is too much. Exhaustion pulls at him like anchors tied to his legs, even though he knows his sleep will be broken and fitful, as it usually is of late. He breathes in and out, slowly and deliberately, hoping to attain some measure of calm, but it doesn’t work, only makes him more aware of the tears readying themselves to fall.

It’s a disgusting display of weakness, truly. He only allows himself this because there is no one else here to see it, no one else to realize just how weak a man their president truly is. He can break down in private, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the rest of his duties. There was even a time when crying into his pillow made him feel better, if only a little, made him feel as if he was getting rid of all the emotions and incessant whispers of failure that always build up in him over the course of a day. But those times are long gone. And yet, the tears still flow.

Here, alone, in the privacy of his chambers, he can never manage to stop them. He lacks willpower.

Weakness. It’s pathetic. He knows it is.

But if he has to be weak here in order to successfully pretend at strength for everyone else, then he will put up with the self-loathing that he can’t seem to shake, and he’ll let himself cry. It’s not as if anyone will ever know about it. No one will be able to judge—except for himself, that is, but dealing with his own judgments is nothing new. In a way, it’s what keeps him going, his self-criticisms. They keep him sharp, doing what needs doing; he can always trust himself to tell himself the truth, after all, even if he can trust no one else.

He casts one more glance at his hair, disgust flooding him. He’ll trim it out in the morning, same as before. For the moment, he crosses his bare floor to his bed, slumping into it. Almost immediately, his eyes begin stinging with more intensity, and the first of the tears roll down his cheeks. He turns his face, burying it in his pillow as emotions well up in him, too many at once, washing over him and drowning him, because it’s all so much and this is the only way he can deal with them, because he has to be strong. Has to have himself together.

It truly is pathetic, how much trouble he’s having with handling this. He should be able to do better, and yet, here he is. He can’t help but wonder what they would all think if they knew. Surely, they would consider him unfit to lead them, and the trouble is, they might even be right. But that would destroy him, he thinks, if they were to believe him unworthy of their trust, of their love.

And sometimes, he wonders what Phil would say if he could see him now. But he always shies away from that. And besides, Phil doesn’t need to know. He’ll keep sending letters that emphasize the good, and Phil will be happy, and Phil will be proud of him, and—he needs to stop thinking about this.

Morning comes too soon, but he forces himself out of bed, as per usual. Cuts the white hairs until there’s no sign they were there at all, and hopes that will be the end of it.

---

The problem is, that’s not the end of it. The white hairs keep appearing, and at an increasing frequency as time goes on. It starts to be that he can’t go more than a day or two without checking for them, lest they become noticeable to literally everyone else around him.

The most troublesome thing about it, though, is that he simply doesn’t have the time to deal with it. He doesn’t have time to painstakingly comb through his hair every morning, not when there’s so many more important things he could be doing, so many tasks to accomplish, ideas to form and sign off on, an entire goddamn nation to keep afloat. He doesn’t have the time, and it’s wearing on him already, so he needs a different solution.

He considers hair dye. He could get his hands on some fairly easily, and likely surreptitiously. No one would have to know. But the trouble with hair dye would lie in finding the right color; if no one has noticed the white hairs cropping up until now, they certainly would notice if he came into the office with his hair an entirely different shade of brown. And that would make it obvious that he’s hiding something; no one dyes their hair a different shade of its original color unless they’re trying to cover something up.

Possibly, through trial and error, he could make a dye that matches his hair color exactly, or at least, close enough that the difference is imperceptible. But there’s the time issue again. He can’t waste his efforts on experimenting with hair dye when he’s meant to be trying to better the lives of his citizens, to build up a prosperous, glorious country. What kind of president would that make him? He’s already well aware that he’s not a very good one; he doesn’t need to make matters worse.

So, hair dye is impractical. He’ll revisit the idea if he truly gets desperate. But the situation as it is is untenable. He’s been having difficulty getting out of bed at all in the morning, recently, a combination of exhaustion and a strange, pervasive apathy serving to keep him under his covers long past when he should have been preparing for the day ahead, even though staying in bed longer doesn’t seem to help him catch up on sleep at all. Why he finds himself wanting to lie there, doing absolutely nothing other than staring at the ceiling for hours on end, he has no idea. He doesn’t let himself, of course, or at least, not for more than an hour or two just after dawn, but the fact remains that the temptation is there, and growing stronger every day. He can’t be spending ages on his hair every morning. It’s not feasible.

But that leaves only one real solution. And that’s to leave the white hairs as they are, and simply try to hide them. The more he considers it, the more he believes it’s the only real avenue worth pursuing. He could probably manage; his hat is a part of his uniform anyway. He rarely takes it off outside of his bedroom. So, all it will take is an extra moment of styling to make sure that all of the white has been pushed up under it. And perhaps checking a few times during the day to be sure that nothing has come loose, but that should take seconds at most. He can spare a few seconds, probably.

At the very least, it will take less time than what he’s been doing. That’s the goal here, really.

He hates that this is something that he’s having to put any amount of thought into at all. But he’s reached a decision, and the next morning, he gives it a shot. Arranges his hair so that more of it lies hidden under his hat than usual, and sets out for the day.

No one comments on it. Not this day, nor the next day, nor the next. He supposes he could consider that a success.

It does mean, of course, that the amount of white in his hair only increases as time goes by, until his hair is streaked with it. But if he’s careful, if he continues to be cautious with it, no one will know about it but him, and he can dislike it in the privacy of his own quarters. Just as he dislikes everything else.

---

On the rare occasions that he has any time to himself before retiring for the night, an instance that becomes more and more seldom as the days and weeks pass on, he often finds his feet carrying him to Niki’s. There is a safety here that is difficult to find anywhere else, even in his own quarters. Perhaps especially in his own quarters, because there is nothing warm, nothing personal about his room. Here, though, there is the scent of baking bread and cookies, a heat that gets trapped under his skin and chases the chill away, and there is, of course, Niki herself.

He finds it hard to lend too much trust to anyone these days, but Niki is an exception to that.

So, here he comes, and here he stays, when he has an hour or two to spare. He comes here, and they talk, about little things, unimportant things, about how her days have been or the latest prank that Fundy has performed—and it’s nice to hear about Fundy. He barely sees his boy, busy as he is, and it’s good to hear that he’s doing well, that he’s still the upbeat, rambunctious lad he knows and loves.

They talk about these things, and they talk about other things, and sometimes, they talk about nothing at all. Sometimes, talking is asking too much, and Niki always seems to see it, and she kneads dough and lets him sit in front of her and watch. He likes watching. The motions are repetitive, soothing. If he had the time, he might ask if he could join in; he thinks he might enjoy it, even if he’s never had a deft hand in the kitchen. But he never has the time, of course, so he just watches, for whatever time he can spare.

Today is one of those days. It’s nearing nightfall, but for once, he’s cleared his desk of a majority of his paperwork, so here he is, slumped against Niki’s counter, letting his cheek rest on the cold stone as she pats down the space in front of her with flour, rolls out her dough with a rolling pin. Cookies, then, rather than bread. He likes watching this, too, likes watching as she spreads out the dough again and again, cutting out more shapes until all the dough is gone, used up, in the oven and baking.

He likes being here in general. He could be doing other things—he told Fundy he’d take him fishing soon, for instance, but soon keeps on being put off, and he feels terrible about it, but the job has to come first. His country has to come first. Or, there’s a new redstone gimmick that Tubbo worked out that he wanted to show him, but that can probably wait for a bit. Or, Tommy wanted to watch a movie with him, he thinks, but he never has time during the day, and by the time night comes, he’s far too exhausted, so he comes here, instead. Comes to see Niki, where, somehow, the weight of all the expectations placed on him seems to lighten, if only for a little while.

He always ends up being horribly unprofessional here, in this bakery. Always ends up messing up his uniform, taking off his coat, getting a smudge of something on his face, not sitting straight enough, not keeping his shoulders set, slumping in general, a whole list of faults. But it’s harder to care when it’s Niki in front of him. Because she’s always glad to see him, and she’s one of the few people from whom he can believe that the sentiment is the truth.

But that is always, and this is now: Niki’s making cookies, the last batch of the day, and he’s watching, head resting against the table. He almost feels like he could fall asleep like this, which would be a miracle in of itself. He wouldn’t let himself, of course; a bit of unprofessionalism is one thing, but falling asleep where anyone could see him, where anyone could get to him, that is quite another.

He wonders if he should tell her any of the things he’s been thinking about. About his own ineffectiveness, about how all his work seems to amount to very little actually being done. About how he’s sure everyone is losing faith in him, and he can’t even blame them, because he’s losing faith in himself. About how in the end, he has no idea what he’s doing, and he was a fool to think that he did. About power and its nature, and who has it and who doesn’t, and about how his words might not amount to very much at all, actually.

Probably not. He’s not sure she would understand. And he shouldn’t burden her with his troubled mind.

So he just watches, and lets himself drift a little.

“Rough day today?” Niki asks, working her rolling pin, smoothing out all the clumps.

“No worse than usual,” he says. “It’s just tiring.”

Niki hums. He likes when she does that. From someone else, it might sound dismissive, but when she does it, it means the opposite, means she’s considering all of your words, giving them due thought.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been tired a lot, lately,” she says. She sets the rolling pin to the side, picking up a cookie cutter. It’s leaf-shaped. For autumn, he assumes. Outside, the trees are beginning to change colors, though the shift to reds and oranges and yellows won’t really get going for a few more weeks. It’s that hazy, indistinct time of year when it’s not still summer and not yet fall, too hot for one and too cool for the other.

Not that he’s been paying that much attention. It’s been a while since he was outside for any significant length of time. Or rather, for a reason other than approving construction or checking on borders or something of the like. For a reason not presidentially important.

“It’s a tiring job,” he says. “Who would’ve thought? I’m alright, though. It’s well within the bounds of what I can handle.”

“Have you been getting enough sleep?” she asks. She presses the cutter into the dough. Lifts it. Pushes the shape out of the cutter and onto her baking sheet. Repeats.

He laughs, quietly. “I don’t need you to mother hen me, Niki,” he says, and without looking up, she reaches across the counter and swats him on the arm.

“I am not mother henning,” she says. “I’m being your friend. Your eyebags could hold second, smaller eyebags in them.”

“What, you don’t think I’m gorgeous?” he asks wryly, and she snorts.

“I’m sure someone out there would,” she says. “Tiredness has to be considered hot somewhere.”

“Mm. I think I’m hot. Very sexy.”

“You would think so.” She’s got enough cookies on the sheet for a batch, now. The next step is to put the sheet on a pan and put the pan in the oven, and that’s exactly what she does. It pleases him that he has the steps memorized. “I’m serious, though, if you have too much work to do, give some to your cabinet. I’m sure Tommy or Tubbo would love to help out more. Or Fundy.”

“Fundy’s too young.” It’s a bit of a longstanding argument between them. He tries not to let it get to him.

“And the other two aren’t?” She returns from the oven, an eyebrow raised, and then goes for another baking sheet. She’s still got dough left to roll out. One more batch will do it, he thinks. “You—oh, wait a moment.”

He watches bemusedly as she leaves the counter again and crosses to her sink, washing off her hands and then dampening a dishtowel. He’s not sure what she’s doing; it doesn’t make sense to wash up when she still has another batch to make. Her hands will just get dirty again. But now she’s walking back over, towel extended toward him and—now she’s rubbing it on his head. He blinks as a corner of the towel flops over his eye.

“Sorry, I got a lot of flour in your hair,” she says. “I’ll get it, hang on.”

And then, her motions slow, and then stop.

“It’s not coming out,” she says slowly. “Wilbur, did you dye your hair?”

The question doesn’t make any sense at all, at first. Because no, of course he hasn’t dyed his hair. Part of the whole problem is that he doesn’t have time to dye his hair. Not properly. Not in a way that no one would notice.

And then his brain realizes that that’s not what she’s asking about at all. Realizes that he’s been lying with his cheek resting against the counter for the past half hour, face parallel with the surface it’s resting on. Realizes that his hat has long passed the point of being merely askew and is now barely touching his head at all. Realizes that his hair is splayed out for anyone to look at.

He shoots upright, grabbing his hat and slamming it down on his head. Too late, of course; the damage has been done. Niki jerks back at the suddenness of his motion. Her damp towel drips a bit.

“No,” he says instinctively, and then curses himself, because—because hair dye would work as an excuse, wouldn’t it? A reason for why it’s like that? It might get her to not push further, and he’s not even sure why it’s so important to him that she doesn’t, because it’s Niki of all people, and Niki won’t use this against him later. Probably. Hopefully. Most likely. Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t want her to worry, because he knows that she will, even though it’s not a big deal at all and her efforts would be better expended on other problems, other people.

Fuck, wait, it’s been too long since he said something. Can he still change his answer without arousing suspicion?

“Yes,” he says, and internally cringes. It was definitely too late for that, because Niki’s just staring at him now, eyes wide. “Um, yeah, I thought it’d be fun. And then it went a bit wonky, so I’ve been covering it up. It doesn’t look very nice, does it?”

Is this what he’s been reduced to? Lying to one of his closest friends?

Gods, he’s pathetic.

“It looks fine,” Niki says, in that soft tone of voice she uses when she either doesn’t know what’s going on or doesn’t know how to proceed without scaring someone off. Like she’s talking to a frightened animal. “Wil, are you—are you really alright?”

“Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Her mouth works for a second.

“Wilbur,” she says, just that, and something in his chest turns hot, wrenches all around, squeezes, and for a brief, panicked second, he thinks he’s having a heart attack. But no, he can feel his heart pounding. A bit faster than it should be, if anything, but strong. His vision blurs, too, but he blinks hard, and everything comes back into focus. Which might be a mistake, because if anything, Niki looks even more distressed.

“Wil, please, you can talk to me if something’s wrong,” she says, and he laughs, shaking his head and standing. His stool scrapes against the floor, loud and grating to his ears.

“There’s nothing wrong, Niki,” he says. “You don’t need to worry so much. Though I have realized, I do have a bit more work to do tonight, so I should probably get back to it.” He smiles at her, though she doesn’t smile back. “But it was very good to talk to you. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Wilbur—”

He’s already leaving. His chest feels tight again. Tight and hot. For absolutely no reason at all, because even if Niki did ask him more questions, it’s just hair, for crying out loud. It’s hardly the end of the world.

But he needed out of there. He doesn’t quite understand why.

His parting words were not a lie. He does have a bit more work to do. There is always a bit more work to do. The work never ends. He can’t actually remember the last time he didn’t have work to do. Before getting independence, surely. Back when he still felt entirely sure that he could do this, that he could build a country, that peace through words was a sustainable option, that he could look at the mess of things that need to be done to form an effective nation and actually accomplish them.

He tries not to think about that.

But instead of to his office, his feet carry him back to his room. To his blank walls and floor, his few pieces of furniture, his few sets of the same uniform. He really does need to get around to washing them. His gaze falls on his sword, next, still leaning against the wall, and then his guitar, propped up in the corner. There’s a layer of dust collecting on it. He should clean it off. That’s not good for the wood or the strings, and he’s sure it’s terribly out of tune. How long has it been since the last time he played?

There’s no time for music, nowadays. Not when other things need to take priority. He’s got a country to run; he can’t be wasting his time. He can’t afford to.

But rather than do anything productive, he winds up in front of the mirror. He takes off his hat, though it’s almost unnecessary; his hair sticks out from under it every which way, after how he shoved it on so carelessly. He hopes no one was watching him as he returned here.

There is a broad white streak in his hair. Right in the front, right where people tend to look. He tugs at it, and his scalp stings. He’s not sure what else he was expecting.

He definitely can’t cut it out now. It’s far past that point; people will definitely notice if he goes about with a whole chunk of hair missing. And they’ll also still notice if he dyes it, so that problem remains.

He just needs to be more careful, that’s all. The thing with Niki was a foible. An error on his part, a lapse in judgment. He’ll take more care from now on to ensure it doesn’t happen again.

He lets out a shaky breath, and then, he blinks and finds himself kneeling on the floor, still in front of the mirror. He looks at himself, and then immediately looks away, because he can’t stand what he sees. It’s not just the white streak, though that’s awful enough on his own; it’s all the inadequacies stacked together, all the imperfections that he can’t help but pick out, all the screaming signs that seem to point directly toward his own incompetency.

It’s a wonder no one else has seen it yet.

Tears burn his eyes, and he can’t seem to blink them away. They go rolling down his cheeks, and he watches their progress in his reflection as best he can. His breathing hitches, and a small gasp escapes him, and he can’t have that, can’t make too much noise, so he stuffs a fist in his mouth.

He’s fine. The fit will pass, and he’ll be fine. He’ll spend the next three or four hours in bed staring at the ceiling, wishing he could fall asleep, and then, at last, he will, and he’ll wake up in the morning feeling more tired than ever, and he’ll drag himself out of bed because he has to, because he’s got responsibilities that he can’t shirk, even if he can’t fulfill any of them well enough. And he’ll be fine, because he can’t afford to not be, because he’s got a country on his shoulders and that means he needs to keep standing.

He’ll be fine. He is fine.

He is.

He still can’t bring himself to look in the mirror. The next morning, he covers it with a sheet, and tells himself that it’s not a defeat.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #nihachu #niki nihachu #alivebur #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #cw depression #cw self-hatred #in general his mental state isn't great #but anyway! here's part one of that president wilbur fic i mentioned a few days ago!#there will be a part two so stay tuned #just in case anybody got to the end and was like... where's the rest of it #it'll be posted once i manage to get it finished!!

197 notes · View notes

river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years

Text

The Nightwing Suit

There are some absolutely incredible artists out here on tumblr, and seeing their fanart makes me cry tears of joy. Dick Grayson, one of my personal favs, is always a wonderful contender for fanart. His innate grace and agility and flexibility translate beautifully on the artistic spectrum. Bottom line: I love all the Nightwing fanart. However, there is something I want to address with his suit. I’ve been an aerialist ever since I was 7 years old, and I’ve taken gymnastics since I was 3. Now, I specialize in Lyra, while Dick obviously specializes in Trapeze, but when it comes to costume, we’ve got many very important similarities.

DON’TS

When it comes to aerial, we want as much mobility and flexibility as possible. So here are some things that absolutely will not be on his suit.

1. Shoulder Pads. I will scream it from the rooftops if I have to. The Nightwing suit WILL NOT have shoulder pads!! Red Hood? Definitely. Red Robin? Those shoulder pads are important for bo staff strength and support. Robin? Damian probably doesn’t need them, but they won’t hurt. Nightwing? No way. To me, one of the most important parts of my body when practicing and performing are my shoulders. They pull me into hangs and holds, let me rotate myself around, and basically support the rest of my body. This is partially due to user preference: I prefer arm-based stunts and hangs rather than leg based. But it honestly doesn’t matter that much. Nightwing will absolutely need 100% use of his shoulders. Him being able to freely rotate them can be the difference between life and death with his style of fighting. Shoulder pads will just hamper that flexibility. I will admit that shoulder pads look badass, but in this one hero’s scenario? Shouldr pads are a no-go.

2. Sleek Arm Braces. Nightwing, while being well recognized as a solo hero, does often work with a team. And on a team, he isn’t the type to huff angrily and say he can do this by himself. Emotionally? Yes, of course. Physically, and in a fight? He takes all the help he can get, with absolutely no would to his pride. When performing his flips and tricks and such, the other partner will grab hold of him by usually his hands or his arms. I’m just going to straight up say: catching someone by their hands is a Bad Idea. You will not believe the speed we travel when we go through the air, and catching by the hands will lead to dislocations and pain. For a few stunts it’s okay, mainly for the visual aspect of a performance. But when it’s life and death combat? Hands are a last ditch effort if you can’t catch someone by the arms. Because that’s what really counts. The forearms. When Dick is fighting with someone, and that other person has the strength to catch him/throw him from a drop or a flip, they will catch him by the forearms. If Dick’s wearing sleek ‘n sexy arm braces, he’s going to slip right out of their grip. I prefer to keep my forearms bare, but in regards to protective armor, the fabric around the arms better have a grip.

3. Extra Fabric. This one is a given. However, I want to get into the specifics. When you’re in the air, momentum is your most powerful ally, and if there’s anything opposing or hindering that momentum, that spells trouble. Extra fabric can sometimes be good, such as around the legs. Not too much, obviously, but wearing loose or baggy pants while fighting with Nightwing’s fighting style works (as long as you can, you know, actually fight in them and not trip over the extra cloth). Around the middle? Nuh-uh, nope. Anything looping around your waist, hips, or rib cage is a liability if it’s not skin tight. The belt that Robin often wears is okay, as long as it’s wrapped pretty tight around him and doesn’t move. For the kind of stunts that Dick pulls off on a daily basis? I don’t think anything but a skintight bodysuit will help. For arms, extra fabric is ~okay~ but not preferable. And anything strapped to his back, as long as it’s securely in place, will actually help his momentum (so his escrima sticks or any other weapon/item you want to put in there is fine). Nothing around the neck, at ALL. That one issue in Batman where Dick wears a scarf is hot as hell, and sort of makes sense because they’re in the desert. But on missions, at the speed Nightwing fights and flies through the air, anything around his neck will choke him. This entire section definitely wasn’t an excuse to say you should just keep Dick in a skintight outfit, nope, not at all.

4. Spandex. While we’re on the subject of skintight outfits, I just want to point something out that isn’t necessarily important or anything. It’s just a general preference for me. I prefer costumes with a little weight on them. The adrenaline rush is intense for some of my more advanced stunts, and those are things that I bet Dick would consider basic. I prefer something with a little substance/weight/texture to it. Nothing too serious, and nothing too restricting, just something to keep me grounded and focused. We all know how much Dick likes being in the air, but I’m willing to bet he also needs a little extra touch to keep his head in the game. So if you’re designing a serious Nightwing suit, not for crack or fun headcanons or anything, I would steer clear from the spandex, gauze, and showy-light-gossamer fabrics. They do provide extra mobility and flexibility, but that’s because they’re one drop away from naked.

5. Joints. Okay this may seem a little contradictory based on the last point, but around the joints, especially hips and shoulders, the protective padding needs to ease up. It’s one of the hardest areas on the body to injure, after all, even for a professional. And second, I know I’m sounding like I’m repeating the obvious, but flexibility is of utmost importance. If the fabric doesn’t bend with Nightwing, then there’s no point. It can’t chafe, it can’t grind against itself, it can’t break. The material around major joints needs to be malleable.

Dos

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s talk about what you can absolutely add to Nightwing’s costume to give it either a little pizzazz, or just your own personal touch.

1. Boots. Yes yes yes, boots are an absolute must! And it’s not just me thinking thigh-high boots are cool. Coming out of a big drop and other major stunts requires rolling on your back and then onto your feet. But Nightwing doesn’t fight with the one-hit-and-done style. (That’s more Jason’s thing. He plants himself like a tree and puts power behind a punch, kinda like Bruce, which is why boots-especially boot soles- are important for them.) Nightwing gets in a punch and flips away, then bounces back and gets in a kick and flips away, then bounces back and gets in another kick and flips away. You see where I’m going with this. Dick is constantly on the move, constantly on the verge of flipping back. The main way he does this is with his feet: landing lightly on the balls of his feet to absorb momentum before using that to hit back. Boots with fricion-specific soles are important, he cannot slide or skid. Also, ones that go higher up aren’t bad either: extra support is always welcome. As long as they don’t cover his knees and allow for ankle flexibility, they’re good to go. They may even help stop ankle dislocation. Anything you want to add to the boots? Go ahead. As long as it’s not gauzy ribbon or something too extra, or something that can easily get caught in something else, it’s good to go. In my performances, I like to cover my shins with something, it can range from simple high socks or performance boots to go with my costume. I particularly like Damian’s long lace up boots, especially in Super Sons. It’s a cute outfit, and it won’t hinder his fighting at all. As long as Dick double knots, he can wear those, and any other variants of boots.

2. Gloves. I’m not actually sure if Dick has ever been called “Fingerstripes” in canon, but I’ve seen it in fanon plenty of times. Regardless, it’s one of my favorite nicknames for him, and it does have a basis. The stripes on his gloves are an awesome artistic choice, and useful too. Assuming they have a different texture than the rest of his gloves, those fingerstripes could help with grip. Grip is one of the most important tools an aerialist can have. I have had grown men look at me with shock when they shake my hand because of my firm grip (and the calluses, ugh). I firmly believe that Dick Grayson has one of the strongest grips in the DC non-meta world, and I bet you he surpasses even a good amount of metas. Having a good, no-slip grip is essential, even if you’re just swinging from the surface for a second, or if the surface is another partner’s hand. Gloves, once again as long as they’re not too restricting, would be awesome with helping with that.

3. Wrist Braces. I said before that Dick can’t have arm braces because of the whole partner-grip thing. But with the amount of force and pressure Dick exerts on his hands on a daily basis, dislocations and sprains should be as common as a bruise. Hell, I’m sitting here typing this and my left wrist is sprained. Fanfic writers, here’s a helpful tip: you can write Dick with a sprained or dislocated or just a plain sore wrist anytime at all, and having him rub his hands with a grimace, rubbing lotion onto them, or doing wrist exercises in his free time is a go-to for if you need anything filler. Or, you know, it could even be part of the plot. Wrist braces help with this, they keep the joints in place and add a little extra stability to his movements. As long as they’re not interfering with wrist mobility, wrist braces are a very very good idea. When you think how long, think about the length of Peter Parker’s handmade web shooters. Long enough to be there, but not immediately noticeable. Also, make sure the material is something cloth, wrap, or gauze based. Anything too hard could scrape against the skin, cause cuts and bruises, and even cut off circulation. Unless it’s armor, it’s not comfortable or easy to do aerial maneuvers with.

4. Back Harness. To be honest, I have no idea what the official name for this piece of equipment even is. But the thing that holds Nightwing’s escrima sticks to his back. The thing that holds Deadpool’s katanas (in the movies, not the comics). The back-strap-harness thingy. That’s a go-for-it when it comes to costumes. Not only does it look badass and hot when it’s on your costume and you draw your weapons from it seamlessly like a boss, it’s practical and doesn’t interfere with your fighting at all. As I said, a majority of Nightwing’s moves rely on momentum. The back harness thingy won’t harm that at all. As long as it’s strapped to your back, unmoving and steady, it stays out of the way and may actually help you with your momentum. Drawing weapons from it is easy and seamless, and one of the quickest moves you can perfect, aside from drawing your weapon from thigh/calf holsters. But as I said before, Dick would probably stick to the back because, once again, momentum.

Okay this got much longer than I thought it would. But regardless, I hope this helps if you’re ever drawing or writing about the Nightwing suit and need specifics. Or hell, if you’re a cosplayer and need some information on how to make an accurate costume, here you go. Now I need to take a breather and chill, because while I considered myself a pretty recreational comic reader and not much of an analyzer, I had no idea how much I picked up about Dick’s individual fighting style and how that fits in with my own aerial experiences.

#i have no idea what to tag this #suit analysis???#superhero costume dos and dont's??#nightwing #dick grayson #meta #dc #nightwing meta #dick grayson meta #dc meta #nightwing suit #river thinks too hard

1K notes · View notes

hollowandmerciless · 3 years

Text

So it was a love story after all

One of the things that has been said over the years about Attack on Titan is that it had no romance. Isayama, was the general consensus, didn’t write a love story. AOT is not about ships. It’s about the nature of humanity, about hatred, about racism and the will to survive. It’s got its roots in Norse mythology, in real life events from the recent past and a more ancient past. But love and romance, so everyone thought, never had a place in this story.

How wrong we all were.

As it turns out, Eren’s motivation for everything he did was always his eternal and undying love for Mikasa.

Here’s where I stumble.

I never saw any convincing signs of Eremika in this story. I didn’t like their dynamics in the first place – Eren seemed annoyed with her a lot of the time, or at best consider her his adopted sister – and what really rubbed me the wrong way during the entirety of the story was Mikasa’s unhealthy obsession with Eren. Yes, he saved her, and yes, she’s an Ackerman, who are known for their intense bonding to their host (although this was a false assumption as well, according to Zeke), but her obsession was unhealthy and annoying to the point that I was unable to see her character development or her actions.

Her looks didn’t make her special to me (contrary to a lot of male fans I encountered on social media and irl), to me she was just one of the characters, albeit a rather uninteresting one, so I wasn’t paying as much attention to her as they did – we all pay most attention to our favourites (which in my case are Eren and Levi and to a lesser extent Hanji and Connie), and as a result I may have been blind for any character development she had.

Maybe it’s because I’m a woman and I feel like she’s one of those poorly written -“the man is my only goal in life” -women. Women who in a story solely seem to exist as an appendage to the main character and have no life or will of their own. Eren and Mikasa were, in my opinion, never equals in this story.

I know many people do see Mikasa’s character development, and do see meaningful interactions between Eren and her, but I’m sorry, I can’t see them unless I use a microscope, and I think this is the main flaw in Isayama’s writing: with all the twists and foreshadowing (which I so thoroughly enjoyed), some hints he left are way too small, while some of his red herrings are too in your face to ignore.

It also feels like Isayama changed the ending too often and forgot about a lot of foreshadowings along the way.

This is why it feels that we’re left with so many plot holes – if you read closely, there aren’t many, but the red herrings were sprinkled so abundantly throughout the story that we may have expected way too much. The origins of the Ackermans, the importance of Historia’s’ baby and “who is the father”, Zeke’s presumed 4D chess and Eren’s 5D chess, the Underground cities as protection against the rumbling, what caused the titan forest trees to grow so large, what happened 854 years ago in the year 0, Reiner heavily being foreshadowed to become the new Helos, what is the Hallucigenia thing, where did it come from and how does it create titans, where did Ymir’s first titan come from if there was no one in PATHS yet to build it – we don’t need all these answers, but somehow Isayama made us believe there was more to this than there actually was, and that’s why many of us feel robbed of the ending we wanted or expected.

The Historia storyline bothers me the most. The dynamics between her and Eren were much more interesting and realistic than those between Mikasa and Eren. To begin with, they were equals. Whatever happened, they always had each other’s backs. So it made sense to me that Eren had at least something to do with her choice to have a baby, especially because he was so vocal against it. Instead, she too married a guy who hadn’t been particularly nice to her in the past and nothing of it had anything to do with Eren or his plans, or their shared memories of previous founders.

Parallels between OG Ymir and Historia seemed abundant, but apparently, in the end, we were supposed to see an essential parallel between Ymir and Mikasa. Her Stockholm-syndrome-love for the first King Fritz felt like a sort of deus ex machina (and yes, if you reread chapter 122 there were hints, but so scarce, so small, that they didn’t seem to hold much significance).

I find the fact that OG Ymir needed to see someone break loose from the clutches of obsessive love in front of her own eyes to finally break loose from her own love for Fritz a bit far-fetched, especially since I consider that this is what the entire story hinges on.

(Now we do understand why Isayama had Levi so severely wounded in chapter 114 (the explosion). Had he been fit, then he had most likely been the Ackerman who killed Eren (because this has been foreshadowed too, multiple times) – and that wasn’t supposed to happen. It had to be Mikasa, or else OG Ymir wouldn’t understand how to break loose from her bond.

Another thing that bothered me was Eren’s sudden confession of his love for Mikasa to Armin. Like I said, I found the Eremika dynamics particularly uninteresting, so this confession felt very unnatural and far-fetched to me – but, again, this is what the entire story is built upon.

He does what he does for them, specifically for her.

It’s actually kind of sad that some fan theories were better/more interesting than the canon ending, but Isayama is the creator of this story and we’ll have to accept his ending – I do know that the more I’ve been rereading the final chapter, the less it bothers me how the story wrapped up. I might even come to like it, and when I reread the full story (which I will certainly do, I LOVE this story) I’ll pay more attention to the small hints Isayama sprinkled between the lines for us about the love Eren felt for Mikasa, to see if his words in 139 will finally make sense to me.

For now, Eren’s motives don’t feel real or grounded. If he’d cried about the millions (billions?) of deaths he’d caused instead of about Mikasa, it would have made more sense in the grand scheme of things. He’d cry for the lives he’s taken, and for the realisation that it has all been in vain, because the ones he tried to protect so that they can live long and happy lives, will now be consumed with grief and survivor’s guilt.

Still, could any of this have gone differently?

No.

Eren was rightfully desperate when he, from behind the bars of his cell, yelled at Hanji if there was another way. Because there wasn’t.

The irony was that Eren always fought for freedom, but all his life he had been a slave to his own destiny. He was unable to change the future, and could only try to influence it. Or else, as Kruger said, this cycle would repeat itself, again and again.

All in all I feel there was more to this story than what we got, it could have gone deeper, more foreshadowing could have paid off instead of being a red herring.

A bittersweet ending

Levi surviving and finally getting closure with the knowledge that this was what all of his old SC friends died for, brought me to tears. And that smoke, was that the disappearing of his Ackerstrength?

The frame where he travels the world with his carers/adopted children Gabi and Falco and his new best friend Onyankopon (friend? lover? just look at that glance they share) made me so happy that this is now the desktop background of my laptop.

(I hope they’ll travel to the AOT equivalent of the UK so he can finally enjoy some decent black tea)

To me, at least this part was sweet. The rest: bitter, even the fates of the Alliance members. This is a story with an open ending. We don’t know if they’ll succeed on their peace mission, we don’t know what the Yaegerists will accomplish, we don’t know what the rest of the world will do; all options are open again, but maybe that is the point. Eren never meant to end the hatred, there’s no fighting the nature of humans. Erwin knew this already: mankind won’t stop fighting among themselves until there’s only one person left.

Eren’s goal was to end the titan era, and at the cost of his own life and that of 80% of humanity, he succeeded.

Learning that Eren, who held freedom in such high regards, was a slave to his own destiny all along was painful and ironic, but in a way he lives on as a bird, finally free, finally Vogel aus dem Käfig.

Thank you, Isayama.

#snk #aot #snk meta #eren yaeger #snk spoilers #snk 139 #snk 139 spoilers #mikasa ackerman #levi ackerman #eremika #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot 139 #long post

94 notes · View notes

mari-beau · 3 years

Text

PARTNERS - A Rogue One Fanfiction

Written for Cassian Appreciation Week 2021 Day 4: Alliance Intelligence

(I know I missed Cassian Appreciation Week entirely with this one, but it got a little more out of hand than the quick scene tags and etc. Actually, tumblr posting etiquette question: At what point is a fanfic considered too long to post directly and should be hosted elsewhere and linked to? Or is inserting a ‘keep reading’ break enough?)

Title: Partners

Characters: Cassian Andor POV; Jyn Erso, Draven

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn

Words: 2633

Setting: Post-Rogue One, Canon-divergent (in that Cassian & Jyn live)

Summary: Cassian receives his first assignment for Alliance Intelligence after recovering from his Scarif injuries, but something is amiss with Jyn Erso. And something is gnawing at him as well...

Spoilers: Rogue One

Warnings: Our heroes have a little bit of PTSD/Separation Anxiety; Also it’s in a layered/nonlinear narrative format, which hopefully is clear/works.

“Where?” she asked. Was there a desperate edge to Jyn’s voice? Or did he just want there to be?

“You know I can’t tell you where.”

Cassian thought she would at least roll her eyes, if not spout sardonic criticism of Alliance Intelligence not even trusting their own people, not trusting those rebels who’d sacrificed everything for the Cause. But she surprisingly remained silent, pursing her lips and giving a little shake of her head.

“Are you allowed to tell me how long you’ll-” She swallowed, uncharacteristically vulnerable. “You’ll be gone?”

“I’m not sure.” Cassian wanted to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but he’d never seen her look so fragile, and he was afraid a single touch might shatter her.

“Okay.” Her response was clipped, even for her, and she just nodded her head, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’ll be back, Jyn,” he said. And maybe he’d never actually said it outright, but maybe she needed to hear it. “I’ll never leave you behind.”

Again, she only nodded her head, repeating “Okay.”

He gave into the urge, placed a hand on her biceps and stroked her arm through the layers of her thick thermal jumpsuit.

“Are you-” he tried to ask her whether she was feeling okay, but she shrugged his hand off and bolted, leaving him to watch her fleeing back as she disappeared down an icy corridor, blinking in surprise.

…

Earlier…

“Medical informs me you’re cleared for active duty, Captain Andor.” Draven managed to make it both a statement and a question. Of course he was the head of Intelligence, a spy to his very core, working in vagaries. Except when he issued orders. Those were always clear.

“Yes, sir.” Cassian tried to stand at full attention, but the stance honestly put a little too much pressure on his bad leg. If it was just the artificial hip, he’d probably be sprier than he’d been before. But the deep tissue damage was going to take awhile, if he ever did regain the full musculature in his leg, the tendons and ligaments would never be the same. The fractures in his vertebrae and ribs had thankfully knitted back up and neither bothered him too badly. Even with the unrelenting cold of Hoth.

“I have your next assignment.”

Cassian nodded, accepting the datapad with mission specifics. He gave it a cursory glance.

Deep cover.

“Is this a solo mission?” he asked, but pretended to continue to study the information rather than risk revealing his insecurities to his commanding officer. “Or am I going to need a team?”

Maybe just a partner?

“It has to be you,” Draven said. “And only you. They’re your connections. Well, one of your alias’ connections.”

The older man hesitated, not dismissing Cassian, not continuing with the briefing, just standing, waiting. Cassian mustered the best impassive face he could before meeting his commanding officer’s gaze.

“You’re still one of the best agents we have, Andor.”

Cassian nodded his head in silent acceptance of the reassurance.

“When do you need me to leave?” he asked.

“Whenever you’re comfortable enough with the mission brief. But the sooner, the better.” Draven was still studying him intently, with more scrutiny than Cassian had even faced as an undercover spy. “You know where to find me if you have any follow up questions.”

“Yes, sir,” Cassian said, recognizing his dismissal.

Something twisted deep in his chest as he walked away.

He needed to find Jyn and tell her he’d be leaving.

…

That Day on the Beach of Scarif…

“Look.”

It sounded like Jyn’s voice. Was there an afterlife, then? And could Cassian have somehow been lucky enough to be with her there?

No. No, that couldn’t be the case. There was too much pain. If he no longer had a body, then why did it hurt in the way physical flesh only could?

“Cassian!” Jyn’s voice was more urgent and she was squirming in his arms, her hands tugging on the sleeves of his shirt. “What is that?”

He forced his eyes open. It was bright. So bright. Why was she confused? It was Death.

No. No, it wasn’t?

He squinted, blinking his eyes as he looked off toward the ocean, well, where the ocean had been, where the wall of destruction had… stopped?

Jyn looked at him in wide-eyed amazement. “Is that a-”

“Shield,” Cassian gasped, in utter shock himself. “The Empire must have installed an emergency shield to protect the facility.”

“How long?” Jyn was breathing hard, already scrambling to her feet.

“Against that blastwave? Not long,” Cassian said. “Maybe it has dispersed some of the explosive force already but…”

“Come on.” Jyn was standing, leaning down to tug at his arms. He felt like he was ten times the weight he’d ever been on any planet.

“There’s not a lot of time,” he said, hoping she’d understand.

“Which is why you need to move your ass.” Jyn squatted in front of him instead, shoving her arms under his armpits and basically hugging him, she tried hauling him to his feet, but he was dead weight. He hissed with overwhelming pain that was practically blinding, his legs refusing to function. They collapsed back to the sand in a heap.

Jyn got back up, wincing and holding her injured shoulder before she renewed her attempts to get Cassian onto his feet.

It was a herculean effort for his weary body, but he managed to grab her arm.

“Listen to me, Jyn.” She locked eyes with him, and the desperation and pain he found there stabbed him in the chest, hurting worse than his aching ribs. “You have to go. You have to leave me behind. There’s got to be others still alive out there. Find them, get off Scarif. Leave me here. It’s okay. I want you to leave me. Do you understand?”

“No,” she said. There was a ferocious passion in the depths of her eyes, the green gone all steel grey. Any argument he could possibly make, any plea for her to save herself would not be tolerated.

“You listen to me, Cassian Andor.” Her hands captured his face. Her fierceness took away what little breath he had. “We live together. Or we die together.”

This time when she grabbed him, somehow her small body managed to haul him up, maybe she’d somehow given him some of her strength, some of her unrelenting determination, because his legs held... mostly.

…

Present

Cassian found Jyn hiding in a storage room, sitting on a crate with her hands on her knees, doubled over, breathing in big, sobbing gulps of air. He could only stand there and stare in complete shock. Not even on the beach that day had he ever seen Jyn Erso so… such an emotional mess. Angry. Passionate. Vulnerable. Yes. All those things he had seen in her eyes. But this sort of tangible, physical reaction? It was jarring to witness.

And he hesitated. Never hesitate. It could cost lives, the lives of others, your own.

Rushing to her side, he dropped to his knees beside her, the hard ice floor’s impact mitigated by his thick thermal pants.

“Jyn, what is it? What’s wrong? Should I find a medic?”

He placed a hand on her leg, tried to get her to look at him, but she turned away, her breathing still disturbingly uneven, like she wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

“N-no,” she choked out. “Just- Just give me a m-minute.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I’m right here. If you need anything, I’m here.”

A sob escaped her, and then she gasped, continuing to struggle to breath, hyperventilating. Cassian just remained there, kneeling beside her, a previously unfamiliar agony tearing at him, watching Jyn suffer whatever it was she was enduring and unable to help her. But he’d stay there, by her side, forever, if she needed him to.

Her breathing gradually grew placid until she was taking deep, regulated draughts of air. And then those determined breaths evened out as well until she was finally breathing normally. And still he waited.

Jyn swore, wiping at her face before she turned to him, and oh, force, her cheeks were raw-looking with tear tracks staining her skin. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked exhausted. As if she’d been awake, hunted, for a week. How did that happen in just half an hour or so?

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Cassian asked. He wanted to know, needed to know, so, “Maybe I can help.”

She nodded but her eyes were bright, welling up with tears. This was Jyn Erso. It took a lot to make the woman cry.

“What is responsible for this? Did someone hurt you?” Cassian could hear his own accent thickening but didn’t care, becoming too agitated to focus on proper Basic pronunciations.

Jyn shook her head but said, “No. Yes… I… fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“What is it, querida?” He took her hand and when she didn’t pull away, squeezed it, caressed her bare palm with his thumb, noting that her skin was getting cold and he should get her back closer to the core of the base where the temperature was more bearable. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

She nodded. And again, Cassian was struck by how vulnerable the woman was. She always had a deeply hurt portion of her soul, but she seemed incapable of letting it show, even to him. It wasn’t deluding himself, or an over-exaggeration. Cassian knew that her friendship with him was different than any other she’d had in her life. It was the same for him. They finally had someone they could trust wholeheartedly.

But he still held his breath, waiting for her to bestow that trust once again.

She looked down at her hands in his, then to his face, her weary eyes holding his gaze, searching for something.

“You haven’t realized it, yet, have you?” she asked. Cassian’s heart beat faster. Realized what? “Until your Intelligence briefing this morning, we hadn’t been more than an arm’s length apart since Scarif. And force, I’m having a fucking panic attack just at the thought of being separated from you. How ridiculous is that?”

Cassian’s mouth had gone dry. He swallowed and wet his lips before he could even contemplate speaking.

“It’s not ridiculous, Jyn.” Maybe he hadn’t realized why, but that uneasy feeling had been twisting his insides since he’d first left for his briefing. And now, now he couldn’t deny its cause.

Because Jyn was right. She’d basically dragged him bodily out of that massacre, off that cursed planet, held him as he drifted in and out of consciousness until he’d blacked out entirely, to wake up in the infirmary on Yavin 4 with Jyn sitting at his bedside, arms folded on the edge of his cot, supporting her head as she slept. And from there, she had been with him his entire recovery. She refused to leave the room when medical staff or droids checked on him, only turning her back to give him privacy. He hadn’t complained. He hadn’t objected. Even when she set up a bedroll in the corner of his quarters when he’d been released from the infirmary. Even when she wordlessly climbed into his bed to soothe his fitful, painful sleep, even when she helped him dress. And shower. And limp down the corridors to exercise his injured leg. And after he was basically as recovered as he was going to get, she stayed. Always by his side.

The memory that would always forever be seared into his existence slapped him in the face.

“We live together. Or we die together,” he whispered.

Jyn’s pupils dilated, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on his.

“I meant it,” she said quietly. “But I didn’t think…”

Her hand reflexively clutched at the front of her thermal jumpsuit, seeking the only possession she cared about, the only thing she had left of her mother, her father, the only thing she had that was her own, special. But hadn’t she realized?

She had him.

Cassian took a risk, slid his fingertips over her cheek, which was soft and smooth and warm against his doubtless chilled fingers. But she didn’t flinch from his cool touch. Rather, she leaned into his palm as he cupped her face.

“I know,” he said. And he did know, could see the knowledge of it in her eyes, as well. He didn’t much believe in the Force, and despite the kyber crystal perpetually around Jyn’s neck, she had had a hard life, was a survivor, with a practicality that ran so deep it had taken him, a heartless assassin to make her believe in hope again.

Sometimes, though… Okay, often, he felt like that blastwave had swept them away, disintegrated them on the submolecular level. And then somehow they’d reformed. But their atoms had been mixed up, and he was as much composed of her stardust as his own, and she of his.

It was fanciful. And completely unlike Cassian. The Before Cassian. But now, it was absolutely the way he felt. It was foolish to deny it. And from the way Jyn was looking at him...

He leaned in, his nose brushing hers, his lips feathering over hers as he hesitated, waited for any signal from her, acceptance, invitation, or rejection.

It was an exquisite, agonizing eternity.

But then Jyn sucked in a sharp breath, one of her small yet strong hands grabbing the front of his coat, the other the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. She pulled him into her, her mouth crashing against, hard and hot, and needy. Aggressive and tender at the same time. An inextricable mess. It was how they were. It was who they were.

It was perfect.

…

A little bit later...

“You have concerns regarding the mission, Captain Andor?”

Cassian had managed to catch General Draven in the rare moment where the man was actually in his office, sitting at his desk, reviewing… who knew what… intelligence, battle plans… food reserves…

“I do, sir.”

Draven looked up. Cassian had never questioned an assignment before. He’d always been such a good little soldier-spy. Even though it had been costing him his very soul.

Still, even with the feeling of Jyn’s kisses freshly on his lips, the presence of her burned into his entire being, questioning orders made him nervous. Almost as nervous as allowing himself to have wants, a sense of self beyond what the Alliance had given him.

“Well, what is it, captain?”

“I need a partner.”

Draven frowned in thought. “If I recall… the assignment is best suited for a single operative.”

Cassian swallowed but looked his commanding officer straight in the eye. “Then I won’t be taking this assignment. Or any others for Alliance Intelligence. Not unless I can work with a partner.”

Draven stood, did a quick pace behind his desk before he fixed Cassian with a hard stare. “You would desert the Alliance over Jyn Erso?”

Cassian wet his lips. Revealing such personal, emotional aspects to himself was… entirely against his nature. Jyn did not count. She was simply an extension of himself.

“I would choose her.” Cassian held the man’s war-weary, hardened gaze that still somehow seemed to have an iota of softness about the edges. “I have chosen her.”

We live together. Or we die together.

“She’s my partner.”

Draven sighed, but inclined his head.

“I’ll update the rosters. Make whatever alterations to the mission outline you view fit.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I don’t know if you should be thanking me, Andor,” Draven said, but an elusive smirk flitted across his face.

Cassian did not hide his smile as he left, to find Jyn, and to tell her she was the newest member of the Alliance Intelligence unit.

#cassianappreciationweek #fanfiction #Rogue One #rebelcaptain #Cassian x Jyn #Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso

43 notes · View notes

tuhbanbuv · 3 years

Text

As relatively chaotic and violent as Harvey is, it's obvious that he cared for Edna. A lot of people talk about how tragic Alfred's death is, Edna's entire story, but not a lot of people talk about Harvey's deal.

I love morally gray characters, and Harvey is as gray as smoke! But I'd like to add some more potentially canon angst to this series because I said so.

When Edna found out about Alfred's death (albeit by her hands), Harvey keeps trying to downplay and insult Alfred in hopes to make Edna feel less bad about his death. Even when Edna calls him a rather...crude name, Harvey exclaims "Edna!" as if saying that she's gone a bit too far with the insults.

And when they witness Edna killing the Keymaster, Harvey even goes silent. He even apologizes for it, saying that he thought he remembered something but makes an effort to dodge the topic entirely. He even sounds scared talking about it.

Then, we see the cause of Edna's father's death, him being convicted and Edna being sent to an asylum. Alfred took Harvey and threatened to tear the doll up after Edna put lizards down his shirt. And what do they do? Edna pushed him down the stairs, because Harvey told her to, leading to Alfred dying on impact and her father taking the fall for the crime. That's a lot, and paints Harvey in a bad light. But he was afraid, because it's probably very easy for a kid to break a plush toy, and at the end of the day, neither of them INTENDED to kill Alfred.

So, Dr. Marcel takes Edna into the asylum and tries to brainwash her for ten years. Harvey probably feels just as guilty for what happened, and tries his best for her to help her escape the asylum. But he is technically just as bad as Dr. Marcel; just on a different ground. They're both trying to get her to forget certain memories for the greater good, with Dr. Marcel doing it to make her into an obedient, lifeless blank slate, and Harvey? He doesn't want Edna to realize she's a murderer. Harvey constantly tries to demean Alfred when Edna feels bad for his death, and actively avoids talking about the Keymaster's death.

During the segment where we play as Harvey to investigate the evidence against Mattis or to absolve him of Alfred's murder, he seems to hallucinate damning evidence that Edna's father really did do it, and constantly alerts Edna to this who ain't seeing it. Now, Harvey is technically a being of Edna's subconcious, but seeing what happens in Harvey's New Eyes, he might have a bit more sentience than previously thought, but let's forget that for now.

Either way, it works in Harvey's favor. If Edna is convinced that Mattis did it, even if it's a lie or hallucination, Harvey wins. Edna doesn't think she's a murderer and she's happy, but this obviously doesn't happen and we find out that Edna really did it.

If the ending is to be believed, after they left the asylum, Harvey was found at sea without Edna. Edna somehow gets to the convent with Lilli, and Harvey is captured by Dr. Marcel and given new eyes. So, Edna and Harvey probably tried to swim or sail the ocean, and the two got separated. We can only imagine what crazy scheme they tried to pull to do that, but there's two outcomes. Either Dr. Marcel was right about Edna being a hallucination of Lilli and that Edna really drowned, or Dr. Marcel was just fucking with Lilli to make her easier to brainwash. But I can't help but think that Harvey would've felt upset about it either way.

#edna and harvey #edna and harvey the breakout #harvey's new eyes

6 notes · View notes

afairytalestray · 3 years

Text

The Dawn of the Age of Skimblegus

One of the most underrated ships in all of Cats.

Part 9 of my Cats pre-canon headcanon series (masterpost here), coming at you after delay caused by me taking forever to write this rather long instalment basically from scratch! But anyway it’s here now, and we’re back on character backstories, this time: Skimbleshanks, Asparagus, and a wee bit of Tumblebrutus being a mischievous sunshine smol. This one is maybe the longest one I’ve done yet; this was entirely unintentional and unplanned - it literally came to me as I was writing it. There is far too little Skimblegus content out there so I am creating the content I want to see! Just a content warning to start with: this one gets a bit dark - there’s a character death. Nothing too gruesome, but it is there. However, due to who I am as a person, it does have a happy ending. Without further ado, please enjoy!

Skimbleshanks, despite having god-tier dad skills, never actually has any biological kittens of his own. He’s something of an uncle figure to many of the Cats in the Junkyard (and the future adopted father of Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer - coming in a future post), and is perfectly happy with his lot. In his youth, he was very much a free spirit. He had itchy paws, and when he discovered the trains he became obsessed with travelling up and down the country on them. His time on the trains became a delight to the human rail workers and regular passengers, and he became quite well-known as the Railway Cat - the workers even set him up his own little office (like Tama!). At first, he split his time fairly evenly between the trains and the Junkyard - as much as he loved to travel, there was one thing he loved more: his best friend Asparagus (Jr.).

Skimbleshanks and Asparagus grew up together and were nigh inseparable from each other for most of their kittenhood. Skimble couldn’t tell you when exactly his feelings shifted from platonic to romantic, it was a very gradual thing. Asparagus can - the first time Skimble went away on the trains for more than a day, he realised he missed him more than a normal amount and it quickly clicked into place. It was normal for Skimble to set off in the morning and bounce back in the evening, but this time felt like forever. Never being a shy one, Asparagus resolves to tell Skimble when he returns. Even though he doubts Skimble feels the same way (Y’ALL), he hates keeping secrets from his best pal, and he’s confident their friendship is strong enough to survive it.

But when Skimble came back the next day, he just couldn’t do it. Skimble was high as a kite; he went on for an age about all the things he saw, how amazing the trip was, how amazing all the trips were, how the longer ones were so exciting, how he wants to go here, there, and everywhere etc…. And all Asparagus can think about is that they seem fundamentally incompatible. Asparagus has always been a homebody. He’s quiet, likes the comfort of his own den, always being close to his family, and has never had that adventurous streak that fuels Skimble’s every move. And the thought that even if Skimble did feel the same it wouldn’t work, that is far too painful to entertain. He would want to be close to Skimble, but knows he could never be happy constantly flitting from place to place. He also could never ask Skimble to give it up knowing how happy it makes him. So, Asparagus makes the call to swallow it all down for now, and then let it go. This choice, unfortunately and unintentionally, causes a bit of a gap to grow between them, as Asparagus struggles to act normal around him and needs a bit of space to get over the feelings.

At this point, Skimbleshanks is aware of his own feelings, but for the life of him can’t work out how to express them. He desperately wants to, and is constantly thinking of new ways to do it, but keeps binning them when they’re not totally perfect. It has to be perfect! He also notices that Asparagus has been acting weird around him, but can’t get him to talk about it. It worries him, but he doesn’t want to push the issue, and he has his trains to distract him after all. A week or so later, he sets off on a multi-day trip, resolving that if Asparagus is still off when he gets back, he’s going to trap them both in the old wardrobe so they can hash it out properly, Skimble can confess and then they’ll all live happily ever after.

There was nothing that could’ve prepared him for what he came back to.

Asparagus was right back to normal, albeit with the small caveat that he had met someone. A queen, a pretty ragdoll queen who was calm, clever and cautious, a little shy and reserved. When Asparagus excitedly introduced them Skimble felt his heart break, but he plastered a smile on his face and let Asparagus tell him all about how they met and how crazy their instant connection was. Asparagus had never meant to meet someone else, but he thought the best way to get over Skimble was to try and make some new friends, so despite his dislike of interacting with the general public and talking to strangers, he trotted on over to one of Bustopher’s clubs where he met Caorann. They both had a lot in common and hit it off right away, both of them bonding over trying to hide in the same corner since neither of them were comfortable in a room full of unknowns. Genuinely, the only other Cat Asparagus had had such a fast and strong connection with was Skimble, and since he had resolved to let his feelings for him go, he thought it would be a good thing to see where this might lead. The two of them fell in love quickly.

Skimble wanted to be furious, he really did, but he couldn’t. Caorann was nervous around him but always very sweet. Although she never knew about Skimbleshanks’ old feelings for Asparagus, she knew he was very important to him, and always strived to make a good impression. He was miserable and wanted to hate her, and at first couldn’t see how the two were a good match. But he could never bring himself to even dislike her, because it became very obvious very quickly that the two were more than a good match. Skimble, bless him, had never really considered the long term ramifications of being in a relationship with Asparagus, and was abruptly slapped in the face by all the same things that had occurred to Asparagus before: that the two were very different, and that their lifestyles just weren’t all that compatible. Caorann was a good match for Asparagus: neither of them were particularly adventurous, their idea of a perfect day involved little more than basking in a quiet patch of sunlight, and they shared the same lack of concern for the bustle and goings on of life outside their little happy bubble and the same desire to be comfortably settled. Fundamentally, at that time, Caorann was the better choice. Despite that, Skimble can’t help but think he might have given it all up for a chance to be with Asparagus.

But that hurt too much to think about, so Skimble went back to his trains, unable and unwilling to break Asparagus out of a happy relationship with someone else, but it never quite brought him the same joy as before. But it was a whole lot better than constantly seeing the Cat he loved in love with someone else, so he spent more and more time away from the Junkyard. The hurt lessened, after a while. It never really went away, but he found he was able to genuinely be happy when Caorann became pregnant, and vowed through joyful tears to be the best uncle in the world for little kitten Tumblebrutus when he was born.

On the day it happened, Skimbleshanks had recently gotten back to the Junkyard when a loud screech and a wail shattered the calm of the evening. Running towards the sound, the source was a sight that still gives him nightmares to the present day: baby Tumble screaming and crying as he lay trapped under the motionless bodies of his parents. It came out later that the three of them had gone on a family walk together, and on their way back as they crossed the road to the Junkyard, a car suddenly skidded round the corner and hurtled towards them as fast as lightning. Without thinking, Caorann and Asparagus threw themselves in front of their son. It worked. Little Tumble was almost completely unharmed, but Caorann was killed instantly, and they thought Asparagus had been too. However, as they were moved off of the road, they noticed Asparagus was breathing. It was extremely weak and laboured, but he was breathing.

Skimble can barely remember the weeks that followed. He only has flashes of burying Caorann, mostly remembering how it was wrong that Asparagus wasn’t there. All he can really remember was that everything hurt and was awful, and that he did whatever he could to help Jennyanydots, who took sole charge of Asparagus’ care (she and Jellylorum were already fully trained healers then, but Asparagus is Jelly’s little brother, and it was very difficult for her). He also tried to help look after Tumblebrutus, who was too young to understand what was going on. It took Asparagus a fortnight to wake up properly, and several more weeks to be able to move about independently again. When he woke up, he was deeply altered. He was in terrible physical pain, but also became emotionally despondent when he learned about Caorann. Skimble stayed by his side the whole time, trying to coax him into talking, maybe even smiling, and very gradually they made progress. Asparagus mourned his partner deeply, and was only able to pull himself out of it when he realised that Tumble needed him. It took a long time, but eventually Asparagus came back to himself.

To most other Cats, at least. Skimble was probably the only one who saw that Asparagus still had moments of deep sadness. To the others it just looked like he had zoned out for a moment, but Skimble knew those were the times when he was thinking about Caorann. These moments got easier for Asparagus to deal with over time, and although at times he missed her, it became pleasant for him to talk about her with Tumble, and he could remember their time with happiness instead of sadness, and eventually even realised that he was ready to try being with someone else.

The problem with that though, was that the accident had greatly damaged his body. He has chronic pain; he can no longer really dance like he used to, and can’t move around very far - leaving the Junkyard is no longer really an option for him. To his surprise, his old feelings for Skimble started to resurface. Although, he shouldn’t really have been surprised. Skimble had hardly left his side at all since the accident happened (the trains are in CHAOS), he’d been there through all the setbacks and progress, his meticulous nature shining through in his diligent care. He was such a constant in his life to the extent that Tumblebrutus was genuinely shocked when he learned that Skimble actually wasn’t related to him in any way (he basically sees Skimble as a second dad). However, Asparagus is more decided than ever that they wouldn’t work as a couple, seeing as how now he couldn’t join Skimble’s journeys even if he did want to. Skimble, though, is the deepest romantic at heart. He never stopped loving Asparagus, but knew he was needed as a friend first and foremost, so that’s what he was. He always says to himself that if they were ever to be more, he would never want to replace Caorann, so it would only be when Asparagus asked. So naturally, nothing ever happens.

Until Tumble puts his paw down. As he gets older, he struggles to understand why his two dads aren’t together. He knows about his mother, of course, but believes with his whole heart (correctly) that she would want them to be happy. He begins to plot ways to get them together, but doesn’t make much progress with the two stubbornly resistant Cats until Mistoffelees helps him.

When Misto arrives in the Junkyard he’s looked after by Skimble, who introduces him to Tumble. Misto is painfully shy and quiet, but with Asparagus as his dad Tumble is very used to quiet Cats, and Misto becomes a tentative friend. By the time Misto is mated, more confident and moving out from Skimble’s care, he wants to thank him for everything he’s done and how kind he’s been, and asks Tumble for help. Tumble immediately tells all about how grossly in love his dads are, but that they aren’t together for some reason despite his best efforts. The two of them decide that the dawn of the age of Skimblegus is nigh, and come up with a plan.

The next day the two of them separately lure Skimble and Asparagus to a secret location under the guise of “it’s a surprise”, which works despite its simplicity as Skimble is very fond of Misto and Asparagus is Tumble’s loving father. The secret location is revealed to be a nice picnic setup, and the boys each leave their respective parent figure with the cryptic message of “do yourself a favour and tell him.” Skimble and Asparagus decide to play along, but all mystery is very quickly dropped, as the picnic is very clearly romantic and intended to be a date. Things are a bit awkward at first, but the two soon fall into their usual easy rhythm. That is, until Asparagus jokes about this being Tumble’s idea of a date (“I mean, it’s not like it’s bad or anything, but like, yeah…” “Haha, yeah, as far as romantic gestures go it’s pretty good.” “It is kinda romantic, isn’t it?” “It is a bit, but like, that’s not a bad thing of course!” “Of course! I can think of far worse dates to be on!” “And Cats to be with!” “Is this… I mean, are we, you know, on a date right now?” and so on).

And then finally, finally, it all comes out. Skimble finally reveals that he’s been in love with Asparagus his whole life, but never got the chance to tell him before, then didn’t know if he could or should after everything; and Asparagus says that he loved him before and again now, but just doesn’t know that it would work. It all gets very sappy and mushy, but they ultimately decide to give it a go. And it works! The two of them have always gotten along like a house on fire, but now it’s more, and better! Tumble is ecstatic, and of course takes all the credit for himself (with the exception of the 20% he grants Misto). Skimble does go back to the trains, he’s missed them, but now he spends maybe only ⅓ of his time there, and the other ⅔ in the Junkyard with his beloved Asparagus. They’re both extremely happy with the balance, and always spend hours catching each other up when Skimble returns. Although Skimble is very much still an adventure-seeker, now that he’s a bit older and more mature he definitely enjoys a long nap curled up with his partner! They’re a happy, healthy couple who support each other, make each other laugh, and make the worst dad jokes you can possibly imagine.

#cats the musical #skimblegus #skimbleshanks #asparagus #tumblebrutus #long post is long #my headcanons #character death #skimblesparagus #asparagus jr #skimbleshanks x asparagus #asparagus x skimbleshanks #skimbledad

13 notes · View notes

weirdthoughtsandideas · 4 years

Text

How I would rewrite Violetta

TL;DR: Less lies, still a lot of drama. Also everyone is bisexual, because I say so.

~Season 1~

Okay the biggest thing here is that Germán knows she goes to the studio already from the beginning

He also knows Angie is her aunt - however, Violetta doesn’t know.

When Angie appears, Germán recognizes her. Of course he does, he should’ve known his dead wife’s family?

Angie BEGS him not to take Vilu away from her again. Germán agrees, but tells her not to tell Vilu about it. Instead, she should just be her governess until Violetta “is ready” (or, really when Germán is ready)

Angie says she still works at the studio and so when Vilu hears about it, she really wants to apply. Germán is hesitant, but he also wants her to be happy. His one condition though, is for her to not participate in any large events (oop)

Not much changes for Jade and Matias - except that they desperately try to find out whatever Angie is hiding (Ramallo and Olga tries to find out, too)

Okay, now for the love!!

Honestly? The love triangle with Leon and Tomas stays mostly the same. I’ll deal a bit more with the love stuff in further seasons

Also, it’s the first season, too. If they are acting a little immature and don’t trust each other, they’ll just grow and learn.

Ok I recently rewatched the episode where Violetta like... writes “amiga” in her diary as she looks dreamingly at Francesca? Like girl did you get a crush on her?? I know you wrote “friend” but your look says more.

Ok probably not but IT’S MY REWRITE and now I decide Vilu and Fran have a small crush on each other. It doesn’t lead to anything (yet), but it’s there and the only one who really seems to notice is Camila

Or, well. She knows her friends have crushes on others but she’s also like “Heh, i’m gonna go, you two can continue to talk if you like”

The big DRAMA is of course, when Violetta joins the youmix competition

Her dad already had a grudge for her singing in the theatre, but now she just has to really hide this

Which is harder when she like. Shares a house with Federico, who’s getting a lot of fans that wants to follow him home. So when they see her, they be like “OH MY GOD THEY ARE ROOMATES” and so Vilu’s fans are there too and she panicks because her dad cannot know

Vilu’s biggest comfort object is her diary, she carries it everywhere in canon (like, even in later seasons when she’s famous she always has it around). In my rewrite, not much changes, except for the fact that Ludmila constantly tries to steal it to destroy her. So anyway, Violetta decides to get a lock with a number combination to open it (as she figures if she has a key she can lose it). Her combination changes a lot. It’s most often two or three letters of a person she likes. Examples are 12-22 (LV, Leon Vargas), or 6-18-1 (FRA, Francesca). One time she even put 12-21 (LU, Ludmila) just to trick Ludmila, as Ludmi never would think Vilu would put her name there.

Violetta finds out Angie is her aunt by overhearing a conversation between her and Pablo. Though, they solve it rather quickly and then get even closer, just like in canon.

In the end, they don’t move away, but Germán does not let her participate in the final show as she’s kind of grounded after he found out she was in youmix and all that

But then he lets her. All is good. Tomas goes to Spain, Violetta is like “I don’t wanna date anyone”

BUT as Tomas goes to Spain she gives Leon a little smirk as if to say “we’ll see what I say about that though, after the break ;)”

The last thing I wanna say about season 1 is that we all know Andrés is canonically a disaster bisexual (come on, think about it) and I just want to embrace that more

~Season 2~

PEOPLE RIGHT AWAY COMMENT ABOUT VILU’S HAIR BECAUSE WE JUST CAN’T LET IT GO UNNOTICED

I know how it’s gonna go for Fran and Diego, so i’ll let them have some little nice scenes in a buildup for s3 (as most of their scenes this season was just “I don’t trust you, Diego”, “Francesca, let me explain”, “No fuck you”)

Honestly I want Ludmila to be a LITTLE nicer this season so she has no pact with Diego

Instead, Ludmila just talks shit about Violetta to him and he’s like “but she’s cute?”

So Diego literally flirts with Vilu to show Ludmila she’s not bad and Ludmila is like “wtf why are you embarrasing yourself”

There’s not a lot of that “Leon you have to trust me” bullshit that Leonetta has. They DO trust each other and honestly they just bond over their shared annoyance with Diego

(But secretly, BOTH of them kinda feel attracted to him)

(Very fun fact one of the first edits I ever saw was one where they shipped Diego and Leon and 12yo me was like “oh wow this kinda makes sense??” and rewatching the show I realised the TENSION™ they had)

Ok. 2x20. The scene I think y’all know i’m reffering to actually caused a series of events to happen later in the season in canon. If Diego had not kissed Violetta, she and Leon wouldn’t have broken up (atleast not that time), German wouldn’t have started to spy on Violetta after feeling like he had to protect her, which would’ve caused Angie to find out and feeling like she couldn’t take it any longer and move to Paris and Violetta and German to start arguing for like 15 episodes because of lies. ALL THAT HAPPENED, originally because of Diego kissing Violetta. I’m not saying it was entirely his fault, but. I’m just- hdsoksyhufshua okay I think it’s just my inner 11yo still bitter about what happened

BUT THIS IS MY REWRITE AND WE’LL SEE WHAT HAPPENS IF DIEGO DIDN’T KISS HER AGAINST HER WILL IN 2x20

The show goes as planned. They fake kiss as they planned to. Everyone is happy for a while. Though, on cameras it looks like a real kiss, so the fans are like. Asking if Violetta and Diego are dating. Diego does not deny this.

Leon and Violetta do break up, because we need drama. Though, it’s more like a mutual agreement rather than an argument. It just became too much for them to handle when Violetta got a contract with youmix, Leon and his motorcross and Diego hovering over them all the time. They needed a break.

Diego and Violetta do get together, but they kinda do like in canon: She is annoyed with him until she finally just gives up and accepts his love.

Germán does not spy on Violetta, but he does consider reading her diary (he doesn’t)

Jade and Matias are no longer relevant. They do make cameos sometimes, but Esmeralda doesn’t know them. Even the viewer believes she’s nice. We only get some small hints of something being off - like Ambar saying “be nice to them” and Esmeralda sometimes giving people strange looks. But then comes the wedding day - that’s when SUDDENLY, the cops arrive! They explain everything - they have been after her for a long time and they recently found out she was gonna marry German for his money and then take it all and flee the country. Drama on top and it’ll be a real classic soap opera betrayal

Angie leaves to France as she just... got an opportunity to work there and she says yes

Camila spends this season dating a bunch of different boys, right? I think this is the perfect place to be a little inclusive and let her be the bi flower queen she is and let her date some girls too. Like switch Seba’s gender or something, not much will change.

THE MADRID STORYLINE. I LOVED THE DYNAMICS IN CANON BUT IN THIS IT WOULD BE EVEN BETTER AND MORE DRAMATIC.

Fran and Vilu already had something going on after the whole ”Francesca almost going back to Italy” storyline and they get even closer as they get lost in Madrid. They were already close, but as they argue for being lost, something just... happens.

Actually the same thing happens with Leon and Diego.

What exactly happens? They almost kiss. They do not kiss, but it’s like it almost happens. They just... get very close and stare at each other before realising. They react differently to this

Francesca and Violetta at first get awkward. They are like “oh- okay.” and then become silent for the rest of the day. It’s not until they are alone in their hotel room that Vilu is like “...what happened today?” and Francesca is like “What are you talking about? I don’t know? Goodnight!!”

Leon and Diego refuse to mention it. They are annoyed as it is. But they do think about it

Yes, I did get this idea after I rewatched ep75 and Leon was like “we were late because this dude didn’t stop fixing his hair” and I was like “DRHSKEHJYU I’M-”

The most heartfelt scene in canon is when Violetta finds out about Diego and Ludmila’s pact, goes out on stage crying and Leon saves her. Like, Leonetta wasn’t the most stable couple but him saving her when she was so distressed... that’s love, dammit!! And I would love to include it somehow.

But: I can’t really find a reason for her to be so upset she can’t sing. So she does sing, that goes well. But as she does, Diego, Fran and Leon argue. Leon is convinced Diego isn’t actually in love with Vilu, Diego is just out for fights and Francesca is like “i’m on Leons side but stop arguing also I think I like Vilu too but that’s beside the point right now I guess?”

She sings “Te Creo” as she was going to, and they like. Do the opposite of what she sings. Or, the complete right thing to what she sings. It’s unclear.

Anyways as she finishes, all of them has to go out on stage to thank the audience and Violetta is like “dafuq is wrong with all of you”

As she tries to help them, Diego says something out of anger that hurts her. Maybe a “I don’t think I really love you” or something maybe a little more hurtful than that. She gets teared up, breaks up with him and run away

Francesca says “You know, I was actually beginning to like you, and now this”, which makes him feel oddly hurt. He doesn’t really know why, yet.

Fran and Leon run after Vilu. There’s the leonetta comfort hug scene ™ there, but also a comfort scene with Fran when they are in their room and she just takes Vilu’s hand while they stare at each other.

Marco is here. Uh. Tbh I don’t know what to do with him?? Because he like. Vanishes to London in s3 canon so Fran can be with Diego so idk man.

He doesn’t send her like a million flowers in Madrid or visits, but he does call and miss her. Marco was a sweet boyfriend for her, really. Though, he kinda was just. Nice. Nothing more. Their relationship didn’t evolve a lot?

Though after the random almost-kissing Vilu incident that Francesca doesn’t want to talk about, she kinda grows closer to Marco again.

Back in Buenos Aires, Violetta doesn’t really have an argument with German as he didn’t spy on her in this, so she simply has trouble writing Soy mi mejor momento until German is like “Violetta that’s your mothers poem-” and they have a little father-daughter bonding over finishing it

She is however not really ready to just go back to Leon after recently breaking up with Diego and so she has that “why does no one ask me what I want” scene like she did in ep76.

But then Leon sings Nuestro Camino and she’s like “I DREAMED THAT WE SANG THAT TOGETHER WTF” and he’s like “OMG SAME??” and they bond over the fact that they are soulmates who share dreams or smth, and so they get back together

Diego and Leon do not speak of Madrid, but they do this very manly but also tension filled handshake as if they “accept” each other.

Francesca and Vilu also doesn’t really speak of the fact that they had a little moment in Madrid either, but they do share some smiles and Camila is like “did something happen??”

Leonetta is a couple again. The New Years show is a hit and that means youmix will let them do a world tour (I literally realised NOW, that the reason they are on tour in season 3 is because of the last show in s2, they mentioned in some passing scene some episodes before about it being a world tour)

Oh also Ludmila and Federico have basically the same kind of romance they had in canon, same with Naty and Maxi (Naty and Maxi’s kiss where Maxi had to switch his cap around was so cute uWu)

Oh and also Gregorio and Diego? Same as canon. That shit was emotional.

Lara, I forgot about Lara... uuuh. She’s just a mechanic. She disappears after s2 anyway so

~Season 3~

Honestly s3 was kind of a fanfiction already when you think about it??? So in this rewrite I guess I could just GO OFF with everything :D

Hmmm yeah Priscilla is still a fucking psychopath but she will suffer even more god I hate that woman HOW CAN YOU PUSH A CHILD DOWN SOME STAIRS AND FORCE YOUR DAUGHTER TO HURT PEOPLE-

Everything is well with all couples but being on tour and hanging out so much all the time, they get a little... cramped. So they easily get grumpy and yell at each other

Leon and Violetta knows this, and so they don’t get mad at each other when the other one is upset. They understand. So as Violetta gets her birthday wish, she doesn’t really complain at all. Sure, she does get a little scared when they fly off, but she’s honestly just happy to spend some ✨alone time ✨with her soulmate and lowkey wishes no one would find them

All the couples break up and Leonetta is like “nah it will not happen to us UwU” and then it just. Gets to them too. They just simply have to be apart before they hate each other. Their breakup happens around the same time as canon.

It felt kind of ooc for Violetta to dress up as another person to spy on Leon but it was still kinda funny. So Roxy will stay, we’ll just change it a bit

She doesn’t create Roxy to spy on Leon, but because of Francesca. Fran is getting confused with Marco leaving and now she’s starting to get feelings for Diego... a part of her just wants to disappear and think about something else. So Violetta is like “What if we dress up and go out” and they do, and fool everyone

And so... when boys they know start to flirt with them, they just panic and say they’re not single. But they can’t make up fake boyfriends so they say they are dating each other.

Which makes Andrés interested - he’s like “wow two girls can date that’s cool”. Camila is also interested, she’s like “WOW ALL MY FRIENDS ARE STRAIGHT I CAN BOND WITH YOU OVER BEING NOT STRAIGHT”

Anyway it’s hard to keep it together when Camila is talking about Vilu and Fran - to Vilu and Fran, in disguise.

Hmmmm ok I literally almost forgot about Gery and Clement lol?? Tbh, of all the “lover rivals” they are the weakest this far. Leon and Vilu didn’t even feel that attracted to them anyway.

Gery is not straight in the slightest? Like girl that haircut and the HALF SHAVED EYEBROW like please. She’s pansexual, i’ve decided. She has a crush on both Leon and Violetta, but she does not really know how to handle that. So she never does. She talks about it with Clement, though and the two of them bond over being nervous messes who can’t talk to their crushes

There’s no Alex, tbh. Clement is just Clement. His dad lets him attend the studio but he’s also like “ugh I wanna support your dreams but you could take economy classes on the side??”

They are not out for breaking Leonetta apart because I for once just want ONE season when there’s no one else Leonetta wants to be with. They just want to be with each other and the whole season is them just kinda... figuring stuff out before getting back together.

Also Fran and Vilu have this thing going on now when they pretend to be a couple as they are dressed up as other people and they have to handle that

The plan was for them to only really dress up once but now their friends wants to get to know Roxy and Fausta and they just have to continue it

Camila is the first one to find out and her reaction is “I always knew you two had a thing for each other but this is just strange, why can’t you date as yourselves?”

To which Vilu and Fran as a response just shut down, not knowing at all how they feel about anything anymore.

Camila notices they seem to not wanting to talk about it, so she decides to make up a plan to make them talk. Though, it solves itself when Vilu and Fran get locked inside a closet at the studio (because of course they do)

In there they talk about what happened in Madrid last year, when they almost kissed. They are unsure what that meant. They admit that it was thrilling to pretend to be a couple, when they were Roxy and Fausta. But the thought of dating as Vilu and Fran... it feels strange. Especially because of all the stuff with Diego and Leon.

But they do decide to try to kiss, just to see - and as soon as their lips touch, someone opens the closet. It’s Diego and Leon. They are kinda shocked.

The girls explain the situation and Leon is like “You know what we almost kissed in Madrid too wtf”

They also reveal they are Roxy and Fausta and Leon is kinda embarrased because he got a crush on Roxy

The girls discussed how it was kissing - they liked it, but... they don’t know. Because they also feel kind of a strong connection to Diego and Leon respectively

So they like... make a promise. If it doesn’t work out with the boys, they’ll date each other.

But they end up with the boys... atleast for now, heh.

The whole “Leonetta will only be friends” plot is still here just because I love it so damn much they are such dorks they literally think they can stay friends lol

So yeah Gery and Clement start dating and they are basically as cute as Naxi. Honestly since I removed the whole “ruin leonetta” plot they have little purpose - so that’s why I made them crush on Leonetta on a distance and never do anything. We need some people to relate to, some people just never confesses and just go around crushing on people without telling lol

German proposes to Angie and Leon kinda plans to propose to Violetta. Not yet, since they’re like 19 (they aren’t finchel lol), but he has plans.

“Ok thanks future father in law” was a top 10 iconic Leon moment and I just wanted to include it

It ends kind of like canon.

Ok! I just wrote most of this spontaneously. Maybe it wouldn’t be that good, really i’m just brainstorming. This show was everything to me when I was a preteen even though I realise it was probably not good (I lost a bit of interest in season 3, idk that season was a little more off to me)

I probably forgot a lot, since there were like a million plots, but this was just for fun so yeah don’t take it super seriously. Also thank you if you made it this far.

#did I write a post about how I would rewrite a show that hasn't been relevant for like 5 years?#and also only really popular in latin america and europe so less people talk about it since the internet is so america centric?#yes #yes I did #violetta #violetta 2 #violetta 3 #violetta castillo #diesca #leonetta #leon vargas #Francesca caviglia #diego hernandez

45 notes · View notes

folderolsfollies · 4 years

Text

Sangyao Arranged Marriage ... Part 2

[Part 1]

Word Count: 2.5k Rating: t Warnings: None to date (there is discussion of canon events)

The Unclean Realm was a home first, and then a fortress, and then a home again, and it stands in stark, punishing angles against the mountains that enfold it. The expansions made by Nie Huaisang’s fathers and grandfather’s were hewn by descendants grimly aware of their oncoming death, who built the rooms and wrought the gates as much to keep demons locked inside as to rout the demons at their door.

But the private chambers for the family were fashioned as delicately as any Lan parlor room. These were commissioned by the butchers who founded the clan, anxious to be seen as refined as any other gentry, despite their rough origins, and so the architects were held to the highest standards of taste. And so they remain, gleaming like a pearl in the heart of the realm, embedded within its harsh grey oyster shell.

Nie Huaisang flits through its shining corridors, wrapped in grey robes woven so finely that in the moonlight they glow a pale, iridescent white.

“Da-ge, I’ve come to manipulate you”, he announces, barging into Da-ge’s private office late at night. Better to be upfront about these things with Da-ge, rather than suffer the consequences that come from him finding out about it later.

Nie Huaisang’s brother doesn’t even look up from his paperwork. His desk, a recent addition, is sturdy Qinghe steel, dominating against the elegant background. “No, you cannot get out of saber practice to go to some art show,” he grinds out, implacable as a knife on a whetstone.

Nie Huaisang, seeing that his brother isn’t going to pay any attention to his bravura performance, doesn’t bother to bristle. He just exhales noisily and says, dropping to his knees on the other side of the desk, “No, not about that,” and dutifully picks up a sheaf of letters from one of the stacks on Nie Mingjue’s desk. Stage one in his plan: here comes the filial child, helping with sect duties.

The first letter on the pile is a report of a horde of fierce corpses in a minor provincial town to the south-west of Qinghe. Nie Huaisang frowns, temporarily distracted, and reaches for one of the blank maps and ink sticks that Nie Mingjue keeps permanently on his desk.

“Do you have a map of just the fierce corpse sightings from oh, since the last new moon?” he says, absently, and wets his quill in Nie Mingjue’s inkwell.

“Decorum, Huaisang,” says Nie Mingjue roughly, and so he rolls his eyes around the flicker of annoyance, and starts grinding a fresh pot of ink for himself. Meng Yao would have let him. “And no. Why, do you see a pattern?”

“No-ot yet,” Nie Huaisang says, “No talking for ten minutes, let me draw it out.”

He’s thinking about what he’ll say if Nie Mingjue complains about being silenced in his own office, but his brother just grunts and returns to the accounts. He takes some bright red fresh ink as well as the black, and the thick sheaf of cultivator requests from the outlying counties, and places it all on his side of the large desk.

Maybe it’s just that Jin Guangyao was here, earlier, to draw out the comparison, but the office feels vaster and emptier than it did when Meng Yao’s steady presence at his own writing table anchored the other side of the room. There was something about his fine-boned face that came into focus when seen in candlelight, although it may have just been the proximity to gold.

“Look at this,” Nie Huaisang says finally, fanning at the paper to let the ink dry, “Red is the older reports, black are the corpse sightings from the past few weeks. We’ve been assuming that these corpses are all remnants of Wen casualties from the Sunshot campaign because of their robes, but Qishan is almost entirely volcanic terrain, so for a horde of mindless puppets there are only a few real possible routes of egress without being destroyed- here, here, and here.” He sketches rough circles around wide valleys. “But there’s a different pattern to these reports. If you draw a line,” and he places the ink stick down to draw out the path, “they all seem to be coming from one area in the south-west, and recently, since the older reports are clustered more south.” There’s a warm, pleased flush in his chest. Maybe he lacks cultivation skills, but there are other ways to be useful, he thinks.

Nie Mingjue glowers, and points to where the end of the ink stick lies with gathering anger. Baxia, ever responsive to his brother’s moods, lets out a warning growl in the corner. “Yiling? So this Wei Wuxian’s work?”

Nie Huaisang shakes his head. “I don’t know! I just don’t know, something about all of this doesn’t sit right.” He drags his fan over his lower lip, waiting for his logic to catch up with the conclusion. “Oh! It’s the frequency. Maybe he’s been slaughtering whole towns to get these numbers, but they would still have to pass through Jiang and Jin territory to get to us, at least, you’d expect it to be more thinned out. ”

Nie Mingjue slams his hand against the desk, but it’s his thinking rap, easily dismissed. “And we can’t overlook any non-related cause - a haunted amulet half-destroyed a town last year and caused a swarm, and that was never linked to any one sect.”

Nie Huaisang hums, flicking his fan open to cover his whole face while he thinks. “Also, Yunmeng is also pretty close to Yiling - it could be that Jiang Wanyin has decided to dip his toes into demonic cultivation.” He drags the fan down his face until it bumps against the bridge of his nose.

Over it, he looks at Nie Mingjue. Nie Mingjue looks at him. They burst into laughter as one.

“Did you hear him at the last cultivation conference when he pledged to break the legs of any demonic cultivator that crossed his border? He threatened me the exact same way when we were all at Gusu together,” Nie Huaisang wheezes. “Turns out falling asleep in class and raising the dead merit the same punishment.”

Nie Mingjue sobers suddenly at that, and says, “Sect Leader Jiang had to take on responsibilities too young, and now he’s lost his brother, and his sister has married out.” Baxia shrieks mournfully in her holder. “He’s shouldering his burdens admirably given the circumstances.”

Nie Huaisang feels his soft insides twist. There’s a cliff here waiting, and at the base is everything the two of them can’t - don’t - talk about. He tells himself in a familiar refrain that one day they will, just - not today. Instead he says, “Well, now that the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng are out of the running, maybe we can be a brother duo to rival the Twin Jades of Gusu! What do you think the two of us could be, Da-ge - the Mountain and the Small Plum?”

Nie Mingjue just looks at Nie Huaisang for a long moment, solemn and worn, and Nie Huaisang can see the edge of the cliff in his eyes. Are you dying? Nie Huaisang thinks. Would you tell me if you thought you were? “I’d be a bad plum. I don’t wear purple,” Nie Mingjue says finally, primly.

“I will tell the matchmakers you’re funny,” says Nie Huaisang, because he can’t help it.

“Brat!” says Nie Mingjue, not unfondly.

“And sensitive.” he continues, threateningly, wagging a warning finger in his face.

“Put the map away, properly,” Nie Mingjue orders, apparently electing to ignore him. “I’m putting you in charge of following up with this, including coordinating with the cultivators for more information if necessary.”

“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang whines, slumping in his seat and pouting outrageously. “I came up with the idea, why can’t we put one of the deputies on it?”

“Nie Huaisang!” Nie Mingjue yells back immediately, not as loud as he can get, but loud enough to ring through the enclosed room. “You’re going to be sect leader! You have to start taking this seriously!”

Nie cultivators die early and violently as a rule, but not, as Nie Mingjue seems to be resigned to, in their 20s. Nie Huaisang’s father, who was strong, died when he was 48, and that after he was murdered. Nie Mingjue is 27, and stronger, and the world is at a tenuous version of peace. And yet he has this constant paranoia that Nie Huaisang cannot understand, as if the smoke and gore from the battlefield never washed clean from his robes. As if he knows something that Nie Huaisang does not. Nie Huaisang whips his head around, fully prepared to yell back at him, when his eyes fall on Meng Yao’s old seat. Pick your battles, second young master, he used to say, or you’ll find you’ve lost the war. He deflates. Okay, then. Okay.

“Fine, I will,” he says, a little mulishly, and starts putting away the papers and ink.

Nie Mingjue looks a little surprised. Then he puts his head in his hands like it’s an immense burden. “I never wanted us to have a title like that, you know,” he says hoarsely. “Not like the Twin Jades, or the Heroes… it boxes you in. It boxed Xichen in, him and Wangji.” When he looks up, his eyes are glassy. “I wish you could do whatever you want, Huaisang, I wish I could—“

“Oh Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang says, feeling the sting of matching tears well up in his eyes, and clasps his forearms across the table. “You’re a good brother. I know. I know.” A smaller part of him, the cold little whisper in his ear that he can never quell, tells him: this is your moment. You can use this.

Nie Mingjue smiles painfully through his tears. “Now what are you really here for?” he says, thinly.

Nie Huaisang stays silent and rolls the name of Jin Guangyao experimentally across his mind. It’s a powder-keg that will erupt the conversation when Nie Huaisang deploys it, but on the other hand, will allow his brother to wrap anger around his grief like a blanket. Da-ge is not a man inclined to accept comfort, except in the depths of despair, which he has not quite reached, yet. Anger is better. Nie Huaisang makes his choice.

“I saw Jin Guangyao today,” he says mildly, and braces himself for the explosion.

Da-ge starts ranting, of course, like an afternoon Yunmeng thunderstorm - suddenly, all at once, and just as quickly over. It is such a familiar chant that were it not for the volume, Nie Huaisang could be lulled to sleep by it. Jin Guangyao is a traitor, a murderer, a spy, vindictive and narcissistic, liable to stab you in the back, liable to stab you in the heart. The last one, of course, is not said out loud, Nie Mingjue, loudly and publicly, and perhaps even in the thoughts that he tells himself, detests his sworn brother. Really, it is no wonder that Nie Huaisang got on so well with Jiang Wanyin when they were younger. His bluster was nearly the same.

He occupies himself with thinking about his brother’s complaints. They are, of course, strictly true. And of course Da-ge can’t understand. If their places were switched, if Da-ge had grown up in a brothel and Meng Yao been a sect leader’s son, Da-ge would have striven and worked inexorably until he earned his place through merit alone. And he would have died in obscurity. At best.

As a torturer, Jin Guangyao tortured. As a deputy, he handled the accounts efficiently and well. He was the blade to be wielded, with the blade's cold pragmatism. It was love that would cut you with Meng Yao, that was the irregularity that would swing his quick, efficient strikes off target.

When Nie Mingjue finishes up, Nie Huaisang tugs at the two strands of hair hanging in front of his face. “So, will you execute him?” he asks. “You could get a tribunal.”

Over Nie Mingjue’s sputters, he sighs and says, “Manipulation, Da-ge, I told you.” Really, what would his older brother ever do without him? “But you either have to leave the war behind you or step into the future. Why would you ally with him?”

It’s a leading question, to which everyone and their sect siblings know the answer. “To lead him back to the path of righteousness.” Nie Mingjue says, dutifully as a prize pupil.

“And why would Meng Yao ally with you?” Nie Huaisang asks rudely, raising his eyebrows. “You can’t assume that it’s because he’s overjoyed to receive your lectures.” This line of questioning is dangerous, which is why it’s quite lucky that his brother has already burnt his temper out earlier.

Nie Mingjue, as expected, darkens but doesn’t explode. As a righteous and self-flagellating man, he automatically rejects the premise entirely, even as Nie Huaisang, used to chasing for expressions in Meng Yao’s ink-dark eyes, suspects it might not be entirely false. Nie Mingue says, “To ally the Jin with one of the two strongest clans.”

“Then be his ally, Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang argues. “Reprimand him in private, if you must, but in public let everyone know that the might of the Nie are behind him, or he’ll have no choice but to lean even more heavily on his father.”

Nie Mingjue sighs heavily. “You’re growing up, aren’t you, Huaisang? You almost sounded like-” He pauses awkwardly. “Well, why this sudden interest in Jin Guangyao’s welfare now?”

Who did he sound like? His father - his mother? He’s so caught up in thinking about it that when he opens his mouth the truth slips out almost unbidden. “I’ve always been interested in Jin Guangyao’s welfare.” He hastily temporizes. “You know that he always helped me establish my claim as a true Nie, even when others thought I was too weak.”

This was one of the many duties that Nie Mingjue had not thought to ask for, but which Meng Yao had anticipated. When Nie Huaisang played at giving orders to adults older and stronger than him, feeling a fool, Meng Yao would stand, properly deferential, until the soldiers relented and only Nie Huaisang could see the shadow of a smile playing around his mouth.

Rudely, Nie Mingjue looks doubtful. But the truth Nie Huaisang senses in himself is as scattered and hard to grasp as motes in the air - Meng Yao stepping in front of him automatically when the Wen attacked Cloud Recesses, the fans that appeared in his room, the way that Meng Yao looks at him, solemn and a little empty, more real than any of his daubed on smiles and thus infinitely treasured by Nie Huaisang. When his smiles reach his eyes, then I’ll have lost him, he thinks, and tucks the thought away.

Nie Huaisang sees his brother giving in on the line of his brow before he even opens his mouth. It has the weight of inevitability: his brother is constantly searching for justifications to forgive Meng Yao; to forgive Nie Huaisang.

“In public,” Nie Mingjue says. “In private, I intend to keep impressing upon him the virtue of the righteous path.” Of course he agreed, and of course he never thought to leverage the favor in order to extract any promises from Nie Huaisang about training. Nie Huaisang feels so much love for his brother suddenly that it is briefly hard to breathe.

“Of course, Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang says. “And… one more thing.” He smiles a little anxiously and taps his wrist with his fan.

“Spit it out,” Nie Mingjue says resignedly.

“Well, I was hoping that we could host a party?”

-----------

Small note on ages - I’m assuming that Nie Huaisang is 21, Meng Yao 23, and Nie Mingjue 27 at this point.

And here’s the poem NHS is referencing when he’s discussing a potenial title for the two of them!

Small Plum in a Mountain Garden

Among withered flowers plum trees brightly bloom, Dominating garden with beauty unsurpassed;

In clear and shallow water sparse branches loom, Floating in moonlit air with delicate fragrance; Eager are the winter birds who come to look, Spring butterflies they must equally enchant; To enjoy such beauty writing these few lines I have luck, Want of wine and song these blooms supplant.

—Wu Li, 2017

For a very in-depth breakdown of this poem (and why I think it fits Nie Huaisang particularly well), I really recommend Anne Lu’s essay! Essentially the plum blossom is a winter plant - delicate, fragile, and blooming best after other plants have succumbed to the harsh terrain. I like it for our Headshaker! :)

#nie huaisang #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #sangyao #the untamed #jin guangyao is technically not in this one

63 notes · View notes

ladyaudentium · 4 years

Text

Devil Trigger (Rewritten)

Summary: Escaping my imprisonment had been my only goal, making friends- and perhaps something more- was never something I thought I would ever experience again. But freedom and happiness always come with a price. Mine is watching and waiting, carefully pulling strings from the shadows. (pre-canon)

Characters: Marco, Thatch, Izo, Whitebeard, Whitebeard Pirates, Doflamingo Donquixote, Female OC

Pairing: MarcoxOC

Rating: T/M (Graphic depictions of violence/abuse)

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.

On both FF.net and A03 under the title above and the username LadyAudentium.

Chapter 1: Escape

A thin figure in a ragged cloak dashed down a dimly lit hallway. Dark stone lined the walls and floors, uninviting and cold. Bare feet slapped against the floor, and breathing came in rapid, hoarse wheezes.

The figure crouched at the next corner, so far everything was progressing smoothly, but that could change at any minute. The guard that had been drugged to allow their escape could be found at any minute. Even though the escape plan had been planned carefully, if anything went wrong, it would be all over.

Footsteps approached the corner, and the figure tensed, preparing for a fight.

Launching their weight around the corner, they attempted to catch the approaching person off guard. Skeletal-like fingers reached for the throat, to silence the potential assailant before an alarm could be raised.

“Ack!” the person choked, “Ardyn, it’s me. Let go!”

Grey blue eyes widened in shock, and the skeletal fingers released their death grip on the new comers throat, “Kensei!” they whispered hoarsely, “Thank goodness, I thought you were a regular guard.” the mysterious figure pulled down the ratty hood to reveal the face of a young woman.

Her head was shaved bald, but strawberry tinted eyebrows suggested her hair would be pink if allowed to grow. Stormy blue eyes stared up hopefully at her friend.

He grinned widely, revealing pearly white teeth, as his bright green eyes sparkled with amusement, “Hee hee, well I guess I’d be out cold right now if I was. I can’t believe the grip you had on me there!” the grin fell from his face as he checked the surroundings, “we don’t have much time though. We need to get out of here now, it won’t be long before they find that guard in your place. Come on, this way!”

Grabbing her hand, chains jingled dully, their noise muffled by the cloth that had been weaved into the links. They were horrible things, they drained her strength and made her feel sick, but they were a necessary evil. They were the only thing able to stave off the demon that lived inside her.

The two dashed through the hallways of the base, seemingly endless and winding, but Kensei knew the way. Ardyn trusted him firmly. The white coat around his shoulders identified him as a guard, but he was different than the others. He took no pleasure in her pain or suffering like the rest, he harboured no resentment towards her because of the demon she carried. He was the only good thing about this hell.

“Alright, we should be good now, just around that corner, and we’re home free!” Kensei announced excitedly and the young woman was practically vibrating with excitement. It didn’t seem real. Surely it was just a dream, and any second now she would wake up back in the cold, dirty cell.

Suddenly, an alarm blared loudly, the sound echoing off the walls as red and yellow lights flashed. “Red alert! Red alert! Subject Zero-Five has escaped! All personnel on high alert, recapture is the number one priority!”

Ardyn’s heart sunk deep in her chest. The dream had ended.

“Shit,” Kensei cursed, as he took hold of the young woman’s arm and began to run.

Pandemonium erupted in the base as the hallways flooded with white coats, “There it is!” they cried as they caught sight of the young woman and her blonde partner.

Tears began to stream from her eyes, freedom was so close.

“Ardyn, look, that’s the front door! We can make it!” Kensei called back to her.

A wrenching tug on the thin, ragged cloak choked her. It was followed by a man calling, “I’ve got it!” he pulled back, tearing the fabric, but it was enough to break Kensei’s grip on her hand.

“Kensei!!” Ardyn called, fearfully. Images of the deathly cold cell flashed across her eyes. She couldn’t, wouldn’t go back after this. She would rather die than go back to that windowless room.

Turning around, green eyes narrowed in rage as he levelled a pistol at the guard holding her, “No you don’t!” he cried, as a gunshot rang out in the main hall.

Ardyn’s ears rang loudly as the gun fired and the cloak come free before she was once again being pulled along.

“Kensei, there’s no way we’re going to make it! Look! The door!”

Sure, enough the heavy main doors had begun to shut and the white light at the end of the tunnel began to slowly disappear. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out several round objects and with his teeth pulled the tabs on them causing them to start sparking. “Oh yes we are!” he cried before throwing them as far as he could. There was a moment where they bounced off the doors with an innocent ‘ting’ before there was a huge flash of light and a wave of scalding heat before the bang.

Throwing his free arm around Ardyn, the young man used his body to shield her from the blast of the bombs. Screams of the soldiers around us before the young woman was once again being pulled roughly by the arm. Rubble and stone continued to fall all around them. The light continued to dim as rubble piled up in front of the door, until only a single ray of light shone down through the dust that hung in the air.

‘Kensei was right,’ Ardyn allowed herself to smile, ‘they were going to make it!’

The smoke cleared in a great sweep of a staff to reveal the guard Captain between them and freedom. His coat, worn off his shoulders like a cape, billowed in the breeze he’d created. The strong jawline eerily backlit by the light created a sharp outline of his face. The hollows of his deep-set eyes and cheeks gave him a skull like appearance and she felt a deep-seated cold fear take hold of her. Here was the prime source of her suffering. This one man had taken it upon himself to make sure his subordinates hated her fully.

“You have made a valiant effort, Kensei, clearly you hold some sort of demented feelings for this creature. But this is as far as you go. You will pay for your betrayal with your life.” The large man spoke in a deep commanding voice exuding an intimidating air like none Ardyn had ever felt before. “Return Zero-Five to us, and I will ensure your death is a painless one.” the butt of the stave was levelled towards Kensei’s face and the last of the smoke cleared to show that we were surrounded by more men in white outfits armed with rifles and swords alike.

Clinging fearfully to the man beside her, Ardyn looked up to him. She didn’t want Kensei to die for her, if she’d known that would be the punishment he’d been facing, she never would have agreed to his escape plan.

“Hey, Ardyn,” Kensei beamed, his smile lighting up her whole world, “why don’t we run away together?”

Tears welled in her eyes at the memory. He was willing to put his life on the line to help her. The least she could do, would be to at least make sure he didn’t suffer in his death.

Squeezing her hands reassuringly, Kensei looked down towards the young woman. “Don’t worry, Ardyn, we’ll be getting out of this together. I won’t die here.” turning towards the guard captain, Kensei addressed him, “You can’t stop what I’ve done here! This will all end one way or another!” his hand left mine and with a great flourish of his coat, he revealed a belt full of explosives. In one smooth motion he lit them all, “Run, Ardyn!” he cried before throwing the explosives behind them.

“I won’t let you!” the captain cried before lunging towards them, arm extended to grab the young woman and staff raised to hit her blonde partner. For a moment she was stunned in fear until a gunshot ring through the air. The Captain dodged to the side and the bullet whizzed past to embed in the rubble ahead.

Kensei’s voice rang out true in the aftermath “RUN!” and Ardyn didn’t question it any further before her legs propelled her forwards, adrenaline pumping hard. The chaos seemed to happen in slow motion as men screamed and began to panic from the explosions. Only a few of them seemed to be focused on the escaping woman as they all began to flee for their lives in all directions, trampling and hindering their still focused colleagues in the process.

“Keep running! Don’t look back!” the young man called as the bald girl reached the rubble that remained of the front door. Unable to resist, she looked back and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Kensei had the Captain pinned underneath him, a small crater cracking the ground around them. The remaining bombs on his belt were sparking wildly. Green eyes met gray, and Ardyn could see the anger and regret deep inside.

No, he couldn’t die here! He wouldn’t! he promised!

“KENSEI!” she screamed

The young man softened his gaze, and smiled genuinely, “Don’t worry, Ardyn I won’t be dying here.”

The young woman made a move towards him but was blinded by a flash of light and an explosion that rocked the entire building. The heat seared her face as the blast blew her out into the courtyard. Ardyn’s ears were ringing as she tumbled ass over teakettle into the dry grass. Rocks and bits of stone peppered the grounds as well as her unprotected body. Curling into a tight ball, she tried to protect herself as best she could

A moment passed with her face buried in her arms and after a moment of safety, she allowed herself a careful glance up. Stormy eyes widened in shock when only a bare skeleton remained of the building that had once caused her so much agony. The once imposing stone fortress was ablaze with flames reaching all the way up to the very top of the tallest tower.

Guards and white lab coats alike scrambled for their lives and desperately searched for a way to quench the hungry flames. Ardyn sat in shock and awe at the awesome sight before she felt her eyes begin to burn. ‘How on earth could Kensei have survived that blast? There’s no possible way, he was right in the middle of it.’

Leaping to her feet, she absolved to search the wreckage. She couldn’t leave without him! The rubble that had taken the brunt of the explosion were still hot and scalded her hands as she attempted to move them. Her arms shook with the effort to lift some of the bigger pieces, but to no avail, she was too weak.

Tears blurred her vision as she desperately tried to find even a trace of her dear friend. A sob wracked her chest a moment before a skinny man with overly thick glasses spotted her, “Kyaaa! Do not let Zero-Five escape! Our research must be continued!” he screeched in a reedy, almost pre-pubescent voice even though he was old enough to be her grandfather.

Steeling herself, Ardyn glared hatefully at the old man as guards surged towards her. She now had a choice; stay, and attempt to avenge her friend, or run and fulfill his dying wish to help her escape.

As the guards closed in, the young woman cursed her weakness and selfishness. She turned and fled.

Heart beating hard enough to burst from her chest, the young woman ran as fast as she could. The road down the hill was uneven and full of gravel with tiny sharp rocks that dug into the soft soles of her feet. She could not afford to stop, however as the pursuant clamor of armed guards hot on her heels.

The chains around her wrists sapped her strength and continue to take a heavy toll on her body as her legs began to give way beneath her weight. A particularly bad stumble sent the young woman staggering dangerously close to the edge of the road that was bordered by a steep cliff. Desperately, Ardyn attempted to steer away from its unforgiving edge but her legs gave out and with a scream of terror she tumbled over the edge.

Curling into a tight ball she attempted to avoid injury as much as possible could, but the sharp rocks dug into every bit of her body. The ground was unforgiving as she landed heavily, the wind knocked from her lungs. Her body spasmed as she attempted to take in a breath, but her lungs refused to work.

A distance voice cursed, “Shit! It fell! We’ll go down and trap it against the cliff, come on!”

“It’s a miracle, It’s still alive!” called another as they ran off.

A ragged breath finally entered Ardyn’s lungs before a violent, hacking cough overtook her. Rolling over, she clawed her way up onto all fours and pushed herself up. They were coming for her, she had to keep moving.

Glancing up, Ardyn found her salvation.

A town.

Stumbling into a shuffling, limping run she made her way over to where there would be other people. Ones that weren’t employed under the so called “scientists” who worked up in the newly destroyed lab.

As she got closer, Ardyn could see the townsfolk milling all about the edge of their houses and shops, watching with horror as the large building atop the mountain burned to ash. A few women noticed her and covered their mouths in shock.

“Help! Please help me.” The young woman begged, approaching the closest woman, her voice ragged and weak.

Her brown eyes stared at me in horror, “My poor dear, what on earth has happened to you?” she asked me, terrified. The motherly concern radiated off her in waves, and Ardyn felt some of the fear leave her.

“The Lab blew up and I was finally able to escape, please help me. Don’t let those men get me.” she pointed to the guards who had finally reached the bottom of the road and were sprinting towards them at full speed. It would only be another moment or two before they arrived.

“Young lady what were you doing up there? And why are you--?”

“She’s got a demon in her! Look! She’s wearing those special chains!” a man cried from my left and roughly grabbed me by the wrist and held my arms above my head to show the other villagers. The cloth that had been weaved through the links to prevent them from making noise fell out, and the chains rattled loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Please,” Ardyn choked, “please don’t let me be taken back, I promise I won’t hurt anybody!” hope was dying in her chest. Her salvation quickly turned to damnation.

“Demon! Go back to hell!” another man from the crowd cried as the guards approached en masse.

Panicked, Ardyn began to struggle, desperate to escape. “Let me go!” she cried, tears streaming down her face. In desperation, she glanced to the woman who’d first spoken to her, but her face carried the same hatred as the rest of the villagers.

Without warning, the man threw the young woman down at the feet of the guards who were waiting patiently to see what would happen. “Here,” the man spat, “keep this under better watch, It put us all in danger. Just look what It did to your base!”

Ardyn lay on the ground where she’d been thrown, curled up in a ball trying to hide from the word and hoping against hope that if she curled up small enough that she would just disappear into the ground. The pain from her injuries began to ache and throb throughout her body, combined with the special cuffs, the young woman wasn’t sure if she could muster the strength to continue running. Her feet felt like they were on fire, no doubt shredded from all the sharp rocks and gravel. “Yes, It is very dangerous, your assistance in catching it is greatly appreciated. We’ll make sure It’s locked up nice and tight.” rough hands grabbed her arms and shoulders and without a care for her well being, hauled her up onto her feet. “It won’t be seeing the daylight again for a very long time after what it pulled today.”

The man speaking grinned cruelly, and Ardyn recognized him as the Lieutenant. A horrible, sadistic man who was second only to the now dead Captain when it came to enjoyment from her suffering. Unlike the late-Captain, who had taken pleasure in physical beating, this one preferred withholding food and water until the young woman had nearly died.

“That wasn’t m--!”

*SLAP!*

Her cheek burned with the sting of the backhanded slap.

“You can’t afford to let it speak; it talks of nothing but lies.” The Lieutenant lied, as the crowd hummed in agreement.

A coppery taste drifted into her mouth and Ardyn could tell that the inside of her cheek was bleeding. The last of her resolve slowly dissolved, it was over. They had caught her, maybe if she was good now, they wouldn’t be too horrible to her again.

Thick silent tears rolled down her cheeks. So, this was it then was it… this is how she would spend the rest of her life. A caged lab rat.

A lone voice spoke up from the crowd, “I can’t sit by and watch this anymore,” the click of a pistol cocking caught Ardyn’s attention as her head snapped up, “Let the girl go, now.”

Her savior was adorned in a pink kimono and their hair was done up in a womanly fashion. They levelled a gun at the Lieutenant’s temple and fiercely stared him down, daring him to disagree. The crowd stepped away from them, creating a wide berth to avoid association.

“This demon isn’t a girl; it just takes the form of one. You’ve been fooled by its lies.” the Lieutenant answered shakily, clearly intimated by the person holding a gun to his head. Ardyn stared in awe, she had never seen him scared before.

“People like you disgust me.” the mysterious figure, pushed the gun against the Lieutenant’s skin, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously. “Let her go, I won’t ask again.” the rage was clear in the newcomer’s voice and the young woman felt hope surging in her heart once again.

“I would listen to him, boys. Izo isn’t one to make idle threats,” another male voice spoke up and the two holding me turned to another figure in a white suit and a very tall, brown pompadour hairstyle. He was holding twin blades and stood with a lazy confidence.

Using the distraction of yet another newcomer, Ardyn renewed her struggle to escape. Planting her feet, and thrusting upwards with all her strength, the young woman felt her skull collide with the noses of her captors. They cried out in pain; their grip momentarily weakened. She surged forward, attempting to run, but before she could take a full step, they had recomposed themselves. An arm wrapped around her neck and pulled her back into a solid chest, his grip constricted until she was choking.

“Filthy demon, hold still.”

The Lieutenant grit his teeth until a vein popped on his forehead, “How dare you interfere in our business? Don’t you know who we’re funded by?”

“I think you got bigger problems if you don’t know who we are, yoi.” a third man called from a rooftop, he wore a purple shirt and had a shock of blonde hair atop his head. Across his chest was emblazoned a blue cross with a half moon curving upwards through the center. Ardyn watched in awe as blue flames engulfed him.

As quickly as she’d been grabbed, she was released. The one holding her crying out in fear, “W-Whitebeard Pirates!”

At his exclamation, everyone scattered in panic. The guards forgot about me in their panic, and the townspeople created pandemonium as they pushed and shoved at their neighbors, desperate to be the first into the safety of their homes.

Ardyn covered her head to protect herself from the dust and debris that was thrown up in the wake of the panicking villagers.

Footsteps approached her back, and with a panicked glance over her shoulder, Ardyn saw the one dressed in white standing over her, “I think you boys understand the predicament you’re in now, yeah?” as he spoke, his gaze drifted down to the young woman at his feet. Blue gray eyes widened in fear, frozen where she lay. He smiled warmly, but it wasn’t until his attention returned to the Lieutenant that she could breathe properly again.

“So, we’ll give you a choice, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. But either way the girl will be coming with us.” the pink robed figure stated plainly, without any room left for argument.

“L-lieutenant, what do we do?” one of the grunts asked, fear clear in his voice even though he was still one of the braver (or more foolish guards) to have stayed.

There was a beat of tense silence as the newly appointed leader weighed his very limited options. Ardyn glanced up to see the lieutenant was still on the dangerous end of the pistol pointed at his head, while sweat bulleted down his temples. The sound of his teeth grinding was clearly audible even from where she lay.

“It’s not worthwhile to fight here and die for that… thing, boys.”

“But sir--!” cried one of the others.

“DO NOT QUESTION ME, PRIVATE! Our employers wouldn’t want to cross Whitebeard. Plus, this isn’t a fight we will win. Not against three Commanders,” he ground out clearly displeased with being overpowered in this situation.

The one in the kimono pulled his gun away with a small, triumphant smirk but he did not step away, nor did he disarm the weapon. The young woman watched with only minimal relief as the troupe of soldiers retreated up to the ruined lab. It was only once they were gone, did she realize the pirates themselves hadn’t moved.

The closest one in the pink kimono turned towards her and upon making eye contact her body flew back into a panic. Heart racing, and breathing fast, he scrambled to get on her feet and turn to crawl away. Traitorous arms failed her in that moment as they gave way beneath her, the shackles digging painfully into her skin.

“Woah, hey now,” the voice of the one in white reminded her that he was closer than she would have liked and renewed her struggle once more. Desperately kicking her legs, Ardyn attempted to stand, but her legs were too weak to support her further. All she gained were bloodied feet. A warm hand appeared on her back and instinctively, she curled tightly into a ball, expecting the worst. Shocked, the hand disappeared, but she refused to uncurl and expose herself, any second now, the blow would hit. Gravel crunched under someone’s shoes as another of the three approached.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now. We aren’t going to hurt you.” the voice of the pink robed one spoke gently, “You’re injured, come with us, we can help you.”

Ardyn curled tighter, this was surely too good to be true. What horrors awaited her on the pirate ship?

“Izo, look, she has sea stone cuffs.”

“A Fruit user…” Izo confirmed as Ardyn felt the chains jostle around her wrists. A trembling started up in her body, the terror finally taking hold of her.

A thud, and the crackle of flame caught her attention. The young woman dared a peek up to see the third member of the group land on the ground as blue flames dissipated from around him.

“Oh, and the little mouse pokes her head out to see the pretty birdy.” The one in white joked, a cheery grin breaking over his features. The one he was talking to glowered back at him and there might have been a retort of “Oi, I’m not a ‘pretty birdy, yoi.” But she took no heed, instead she saw another face flash over her eyes in that moment.

Kensei.

A deep ache took root in her heart as the brown-haired man turned to laugh at his compatriot in the purple shirt who returned his grin with a stoic mask. Ardyn could only stare at the man in white as he turned back to face her, the grin softened as he caught her gaze, “see? Nothing to be afraid of here, girlie. My name’s Thatch, that’s Izo” -he pointed to the one in pink- “and that’s Marco,” -he pointed to the one in the purple shirt- “we’re here to help you now, okay? you don’t need to be afraid anymore. You’re safe with us now. What’s your name, girlie?”

A large, scarred hand extended towards her, offering to help her stand. The young woman hesitated for a moment, surely if they were going to hurt her, they would have done so already. She had known evil and cruelty, it wasn’t something that could be hidden. It seeped through the pores of those infected with it, tainted their words. There was no evil from these three.

“Ardyn…” she replied weakly as she cautiously accepted the offered hand, gingerly placing her skeletal thin hand in his. Thatch’s grin widened, pleased that she had accepted his help. In one smooth motion he stood and pulled her along with him.

The raw, open wounds burned against the ground, and with a wince, she stumbled. Strong arms caught her and held her securely to a firm chest.

“Her feet are injured, Thatch you should carry her back to the ship, Marco fly ahead and warn Pops we’re brining someone back with us.” Izo delegated and Ardyn watched as blue flames once again engulf Marco. She didn’t realize they were wings, until he surged upwards and they extended to either side of him.

‘Oh, that’s what Thatch meant about ‘birdy.’’

“So your name is Ardyn? A good strong name for a girlie. Hold on now,” Thatch commented good naturedly as he whisked her feet out from underneath her, “and up we go!” the brown-haired man grunted as he straightened and she squeaked in surprise. “Sheesh, you’re naught but skin and bone! When did you last eat, girlie?”

His blunt question caught her off guard, and she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. Tears of shame pricked at her eyes as she dropped her gaze.

“Ah, I understand… I’m sorry, girlie.” The once boisterous man murmured quietly as he began walking down the path, his grin faltering only for a moment, “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re well fed from now on.”

Ardyn couldn’t do much more but blink and nod wordlessly in agreement.

Izo followed as he muttered to himself, “how horrible. It’s a shame that base is already destroyed, I know I would have loved to do the honors.”

Another stab of pain lanced through her heart, that too had been a result of Kensei’s sacrifice. A hot tear dropped onto her chest as she once again attempted to curl into a ball. Thatch remained blissfully silent and said nothing about her behavior in his arms.

As they made their way through the town, Ardyn could feel the eyes of townsfolk on her as they passed, but she didn’t dare look up.

Thatch and Izo talked quietly to each other, but the young woman wasn’t listening to the specifics of the words. The soft rumble of the brown-haired man’s chest was soothing, and he was warm, immeasurably so. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so comfortable.

Slowly, she began to relax. The tension slipping from her muscles, and by the time Ardyn heard footsteps on wood, she was nearly asleep. Not even the metal jingle of keys roused her. It wasn’t until the cuffs on her wrists dropped away did she fully realize what was happening.

“NO!” she cried, leaping from Thatch’s grip to land heavily on the wooden deck.

The shocked faces of Izo and Thatch were the last things she remembered before her vision exploded in white.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the new and improved first chapter!

Please leave me a review if you’d like! I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback!

#grandlineocs #othercrews #whitebeard pirates #whitebeard #marco the phoenix #thatch #izo #donquixote doflamingo #fanfiction #my writing

19 notes · View notes

all-hail-the-witcher · 4 years

Text

jaskier’s breakup album

alright full disclosure i probably went into way more detail than i needed to. but jaskiers a dramatic little shit and therefore so am i. but this album slowly became my baby and I've been listening to it for the last 2 weeks while I've been doing homework and its a good sad bop. these are just my opinions, but i think it would be cool to see what other people think (esp because im fairly new to this fandom). also this post is really long. sorry about that.

so. we all know jaskier is a bard. he traipses around writing songs about whatever fling he's having or about his witcher. netflix canon makes it pretty clear that geralt is one of jaskiers muses (and probably one of his more reliable ones given what we know about jaskiers dating history). jaskier is also very, very dramatic (as I'm sure everyone knows cause he's the damn comic relief that show desperately needs). in particular though the scene at the beginning of 1x05 where geralt is djinn hunting and jaskier stumbles upon him, drunk, singing off key, and rambles about how "the countess de stael, my muse and beauty of this world, has left me. again. rather coldly and unexpectedly, i might add. i fear i shall die a broken hearted man” and jaskier is clearly half muttering some sad attempt at a breakup song he's trying to write at the beginning of the episode so the question is, wouldn't he do the same thing post mountain scream down with geralt?

the answer is of course, yes he would because jaskier is nothing if not a dramatic little shit. and i am proposing that he writes not only one but an entire album (or set if this is canon era, but if this is canon i think he would keep a great many of these songs to himself, only playing a few select ones with the hopes that someday geralt will hear one and realize how badly he fucked up) of break songs and lamentations about geralt, because say all you want about what their relationship is, but one does not simply go traipsing around the entire continent with someone for 20 years and not grow close to them in some way shape or form (and the show makes it clear that geralt is at least one of jaskiers close friends so). now what is on this breakup album? well I'm glad you asked.

i peg jaskiers music (modern or canon honestly) for this album as being a combination of taylor swift’s folklore/evermore albums and james arthur and ill explain why.

taylor swifts folklore/evermore albums have this almost ethereal, floaty, reminiscent, indie vibes. there are many metaphors, recurring themes and its overall kinda dramatic at points which i feel is exactly what jaskier would be doing right now (it also just kinda gives me canon era vibes, idk). but james arthurs music is much more emotionally intense which i think is definitely in character for jaskier at this point because he strikes me as someone who copes with things through his music. both artists do the sings through story telling in an almost monologue manner which goes along with that kinda bardic music and all that. i also think that jaskier would want geralt to know that these songs are about him because hes dramatic like that (kinda like how taylor swift writes her stuff). anyway here's what i think would be on his breakup album:

heres a link to the playlist

1. the lakes - taylor swift 2. from me to you i hate everybody - james arthur 3. maybe - james arthur 4. sad eyes - james arthur 5. hoax - taylor swift 6. naked - james arthur 7. right where you left me - taylor swift 8. all too well - taylor swift 9. impossible - james arthur 10. exile - taylor swift 11. illicit affairs -taylor swift 12. safe inside - james arthur 13. quite miss home -james arthur 14. my tears ricochet -taylor swift 15. phoenix - james arthur 16. this is me trying - taylor swift 17. happiness - taylor swift 18. death by a thousand cuts - taylor swift 19. empty space - james arthur 20. coney island - taylor swift 21. new years day - taylor swift 22. the 1 -taylow swift

so theres 22 songs which im sure jaskier would do on purpose cause hes a dramatic little shit ( “one song for every year i wasted on you” or something of that sort). jaskier being a dramatic little shit is going to be a recurring theme. some of them work better for modern era than canon era but as a whole this can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic. anyway lets unpack.

1. the lakes by taylor swift (more canon era interpretation)

this song is the bonus and final track off of folklore. the song is actually about how she wants to go live in seclusion with her boyfriend out of the public eye but that is not what it means in this interpretation. i think that this song is about how jaskier feels as though his career as a bard is tainted now because he spent so many years singing geralts praises and there is no way he will be able to escape that part of his life because undoubtedly hes going to get requests for toss a coin and others he wrote about geralt and people will probably know him as “the witchers bard”. so this song is him talking about how he wants to run away and live out his life in seclusion because geralt took from him one of the only happinesses in his life.

Take me to the lakes, where all the poets went to die I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm settin' off, but not without my muse

the line “i dont belong and my beloved neither do you” references the fact that jaskier feels like an outcast now that he’s spent years traveling around with a witcher, notoriously outcasts from society, so he feels that he doesnt belong anymore either.

I want auroras and sad prose I want to watch wisteria grow Right over my bare feet 'Cause I haven't moved in years And I want you right here

the second stanza references his idealization of living out his life in solitude, with nature, where no one can judge him (and geralt cant yell at him).

jasper would have started this album with that song because it states his intentions: he feels as though he’s done with singing. it could also refer to him leaving the public eye (in modern era) to write this album.

2. from me to you i hate everybody by james arthur (more canon era interpretation)

songs 2-4 on jaskiers album are ones that he wrote at various points while he and geralt were still together/best friends/etc. these three songs establish what the relationship was like before everything went downhill, but they are kind of melancholy, like looking back on a past love (which is what jaskier is doing). this one jaskier wrote about when they met. geralt would have heard him play it before and he would have known that this song was about him (he probably also secretly liked it and jaskier putting it on his album would have been like a slap in the face because it wasn't one that he had shared with other people, thinking it to be too personal). if this album had been released in modern era, jaskier would have released this song as a single to get geralts attention. he would have definitely wanted geralt to know that this album was about him.

I used to come here on my own and drink So I didn't have to think or hear the whispering I stand with people telling lies again In suits and ties again and I just need a friend

they meet in the tavern and its clear that jaskier is Not having a good time and really just needs a friend, hence why he decides to go talk to geralt.

You walked into the room and cut the atmosphere like a knife, alright Sobering mind 'cause up to now, I've just been wasting my time, ooh yeah

the “wasting my time” part is of particular interest because it clearly articulates that jaskier feels as though adventuring around with geralt was the best part of his life and before that he'd just been a bard with debatable songs. the song as a whole makes it sound like geralt was jaskiers lifeline.

3. maybe by james arthur (modern or canon era works)

this song, while geralt would know immediately it was about him, was not one jaskier ever shared with geralt. it would have been written a few years after he and geralt had met initially. the reason that jaskier never shared it was because it talks about destiny and geralt made it Very Clear that he does not want to fuck with destiny.

I don't know what's going on Where you came from and why you took so long All I know is that I feel it Like it's the realest thing, I mean it Something changed when I saw you Oh, my eyes can't lie You said, "They're so damn blue And I love how you're so forward Is it too soon to say I'm falling?"

this would have been what young jaskier felt over the course of a few years after traveling around (or befriending if this is modern). There was probably a slip up somewhere, or jaskier just thought that he got really good at interpreting geralts grunts and the line about the eyes is what he hoped/imagined/thought geralt was saying to him in return.

So maybe Maybe we were always meant to meet Like this was somehow destiny Like you already know Your heart will never be broken by me So is it crazy For you to tell your friends to go on home? So we can be here all alone Fall in love tonight And spend the rest of our lives as one

jaskier probably thinks that destiny is some wildly romantic thing hence why he compares them meeting to destiny. the line about heart break would have also hit especially hard after the mountain scene. also i think its pretty clear that jaskier wants to spend as much of his life traipsing around with geralt in the show (modern era wouldn't have been any different), hence wanting to spend the rest of his life with geralt.

Oh, is it too crazy For you to tell your brothers about me? They told me they'll protect you But I'll look them in the eye Tell them you and I will be as one

this is the part that sells it for me. i think that geralt lambert and eskel would all be very close (admittedly i havent read the books but i kinda get that vibe from the fandom so). this part about geralt telling his bothers about jaskier and then jaskier probably meeting them would have been an Important Moment.

4. sad eyes by james arthur (modern or canon works)

aright so im not sure if geralt has heard this one before. i can see it going both ways. its a possibility that jaskier wrote it at some point and then would kinda sing it softly when hes patching geralt up after a particularly rough hunt so its one of those where like geralts not quite sure what the song is but then he hears it on this album (cause say this was modern era and jaskier actually did release this album geralt would totally buy it after a few weeks and then realize how badly he'd actually fucked up) and is like shit thats what he was singing all along?? but anyway this one is essentially about how jaskier thinks geralt puts too much pressure on himself and all that stuff

You wear the burden World on your shoulders, babe So let me hold the weight I know you're hurting Deep as the coldest pain But this is the order sayin'

essentially jaskier can see through geralts bs and hes calling him out on it and wants him to just take care of himself for once (see: the scene in 1x05 when geralt says he cant sleep)

5. hoax by taylor swift (canon or modern works)

so this song begins the plethora of break up songs that jaskier wrote about geralt. this one would have been written some time after the incident, after jaskier has some time to reflect on the whole thing. i know that taylor wrote this song about enduring a toxic relationship, which kind of works if you think about the way that geralts treated jaskier and how jaskier interpreted it (but im not implying that their relationship was toxic or abusive or anything)

My best laid plan Your sleight of hand My barren land I am ash from your fire

jaskiers plan was to reinvent geralts image and geralt did not think that it was worth it. jaskier is just sorta his side kick (who gets him into trouble, as geralt points out) and geralt kicks him aside like he doesnt mean anything to him (like ash from a fire

Stood on the cliffside Screaming "Give me a reason" Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in Don't want no other shade of blue But you No other sadness in the world would do

this is a little more literal with the screaming on the cliffside. jaskier wanted a reason to stay and geralt didnt want him to. jaskier knows that witchers dont feel emotions (or at least not like humans do) so hes been tricking himself into believing that geralt actually liked having him around, knowing that it was probably going to blow up in his face at some point. but he doesnt quite regret it, and doesnt want to be sad over anyone else.

6. naked by james arthur (modern or canon works)

this kind of goes along with hoax, jaskier probably wrote them around the same time. he’s admitting in this song that he would be willing to try to work it out with geralt, but geralt needs to change first (needs to actually communicate and let him in and all that stuff).

'Cause here I am, I'm givin' all I can But all you ever do is mess it up Yeah, I'm right here, I'm tryin' to make it clear That getting half of you just ain't enough

hes quoting geralts words back at him here ( “all you ever do is mess it up” is pretty similar to the line about shoveling shit), saying that all hes ever tried to do is be good and kind to geralt, but geralt hasn't really done the same in return and while jaskier may have dragged him into some things, geralt also needs to take responsibility for what hes done as well.

7. right where you left me (modern or canon works)

this starts the Real Sad Boy Hours songs. this would refer to how he felt pretty much right after, not knowing what to do because geralt had been so much a part of his life for so long:

Help, I'm still at the restaurant Still sitting in a corner I haunt Cross-legged in the dim light They say, "What a sad sight" I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop Right when I felt the moment stop Glass shattered on the white cloth Everybody moved on, I, I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair They expected me to find somewhere Some perspective, but I sat and stared

this is kind of the processing of the event. and also the moment on the album where the audience would realize that this relationship that he's been telling about until now definitely ended. this song isn't super super emotional, its more a jumble of thoughts cause he didnt know what to feel after the breakup happened. although he didnt write it right after the break up, it was written much after as a looking back.

8. all too well by taylor swift (modern or canon era works)

(the link to this one is from a live performance because i like the emotion in this one better) so this song is not off of folklore (its off of red) but its such a powerful, painful breakup song that i had to include it in the lineup because it seems like something that jaskier would have written very very soon after the incident. the memories especially that she touches on in the song (driving upstate, dancing in the fridge light, looking at the photo album, etc) are all very powerful and real and i can see jaskier doing the same thing. again, if this were modern era i think that he might release this one as a single. theres so much to unpack in this song, this ones gonna be a little longer oops.

Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

this clearly references the mountain scene. they were a pretty good duo until geralt blamed him for all his problems. and jaskier was effectively stuck on the top of a very dangerous mountain that he would have had to navigate down by himself.

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone

jaskier spent half of his life following geralt around, its likely that he doesnt know what to do with himself or his life now that he doesnt have geralt to follow around on adventures. he doesnt know what to do anymore (see the first song).

But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me You can't get rid of it, 'cause you remember it all too well, yeah

this is more of a hope that jaskier has. he hopes that geralts held onto something of his that he left behind. maybe he left a shirt in one of roaches saddle bags (canon) or a notebook in their apartment (modern) that geralt just cant seem to get rid of. he would like to think that he had an impact on geralts life and that it wasn't just all for nothing. in the beginning, he wants geralt to be just as hurt as he is.

'Cause there we are again, when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

this is a dig at geralt. he'd never had someone to follow him around on adventures before, much less a human. as far as we know it seems like jaskiers the first human that has even given him the time of day. this is jaskiers way of throwing it back in geralts face

9. impossible by james arthur (canon or modern works)

this would have also been written very soon after the incident. it is more jaskier being mad at himself for not seeing the signs than him being mad at geralt. it is almost like his admittance of the event and like hes finally accepting what happened.

I remember years ago Someone told me I should take Caution when it comes to love, I did And you were strong and I was not My illusion, my mistake I was careless, I forgot, I did

jaskier is someone who clearly falls in love (or at least screws around with people) easily so its likely that someone would have given him some advice along these lines once. but when he met geralt its likely that this caution went to the wind.

When all is done, there is nothing to say And if you're done with embarrassing me On your own you can go ahead, tell them

Tell them all I know now Shout it from the rooftops Write it on the skyline All we had is gone now Tell them I was happy And my heart is broken All my scars are open Tell them what I hoped would be impossible

this hints at the first song on the album. jaskier has no stomach for singing for audiences asking to hear about the adventures of geralt of rivia. this is his way of telling geralt that, almost as his punishment, he should have to deal with the people who ask why hes not traveling with his bard anymore, because jaskier has no intention of doing so. this is pretty brutal because (as we know) geralt doesnt really enjoy talking about feelings, or talking at all in general.

10. exile by taylor swift (modern or canon era works)

this is a fictitious conversation that jaskier wrote as occurring between him and geralt. it can be looked at either way but i think it makes more sense if bon iver is jaskier and taylor is geralt.

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defendin' now? You were my town Now I'm in exile seein' you out I think I've seen this film before

this first chorus is from jaskiers perspective. note the use of “homeland,” as home becomes a theme on jaskiers album. in geralts version of the chorus the line instead is “youre not my problem anymore” which is probably what jaskier took the whole mountain thing to mean.

All this time We always walked a very thin line You didn't even hear me out (you didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) All this time I never learned to read your mind (never learned to read my mind) I couldn't turn things around (you never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)

(the () in this are geralt) this is jaskiers lamentations about how he didnt notice geralts abject discomfort in their relationship and also his regrets in not being able to remedy the situation.

11. illicit affairs by taylor swift (modern or canon works)

so this song is clearly and obviously about an affair. however, i have seen interpretations of the song where people view it as being in a relationship that is so intense and well hidden that in a sense it is almost like an affair, like in the aftermath you’re not even sure if it was real or you deemed it because there isnt really a trace of this other person anymore, and that is the way i think jaskier would have written this song.

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else

the dont call me kid, dont call me baby part would reference jaskiers humanity, he has a normal human lifespan at least in canon (very much unlike geralt) so geralt might brush him off as being young and stupid. jaskier would have made this album to show geralt that hes not being young and stupid, that this did screw him up, and hes suffering cause of it. kind of like a reality check or a slap in the face.

Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

the secret language would of course refer to geralt himself. hes a hard man to understand (especially cause half his vocabulary is grunts) and hes also a witcher. so jasper had to learn to understand him and now he has no use for that anymore. and the ending line about ruining myself. that would be jaskiers admittance that he would do it again, he'd do it all again, which comes back up in later songs.

12. safe inside by james arthur (canon era interpretation)

this is one that jaskier would have written maybe a week or so after the incident. the song itself deals with distance and coping with not being in someones life anymore, and i think that that is something that jaskier would struggle to cope with because hes not sure he wants geralt to be alone. this song is more for jaskier than for geralt.

Everyone has to find their own way And I'm sure things will work out okay I wish that was the truth All we know is the sun will rise Thank your lucky stars that you're alive It's a beautiful life

obviously geralt can take care of himself, but its kinda clear that he doesnt much like his life as a witcher (the part where he talks about them getting slow and killed). so this is kind of jaskiers way of almost reminding geralt that his life on the path is still beautiful and important now that he back by himself.

Oh, will you call me to tell me you're alright? 'Cause I worry about you the whole night Don't repeat my mistakes, I won't sleep 'til you're safe inside If you're home I just hope that you're sober Is it time to let go now you're older? Don't leave me this way, I won't sleep 'til you're safe inside

this is more jaskier worrying about geralt being by himself. he hopes that hes okay in the aftermath of this this and that hes taking care of himself still. because of course jaskier would write a whole breakup album but still write one song about how he hopes the person is doing well.

13. quite miss home by james arthur (modern era interpretation)

this song. oh my god. its so amazing. if you dont listen to any of these, at least listen to this one (actually im pretty sure no ones read to this point so if you have thanks). this song is kind of more along the same vein as the previous one, how jaskier misses geralt but its more for him than geralt. he would have probably written it at like 3am in a fit of tears and weakness, and debated long and hard about whether or not to put it on the album, but done it anyway because what does he have to lose? theres a lot to unpack here tho so this is going to be a longer one. (sorry)

I'm in the kitchen while you smoke outside You're careful not to let the smoke inside I always tell you it's poison But I know it helps you take the edge off the day We get a drink before it's closing time The one on high street with the blinking sign All these memories feel poignant I won't be there to see the snow melt away

this is a very very clear picture of an event that seems to have happened a great many times, so much so that it seems like second nature. its like a little glimpse into what their life was before this incident. its intimate, but it still is melancholy.

Whoa I'm in another city I got nobody with me And it just really hit me

this is where jaskier is now, it provides some opposition. its like a culture shock almost, like hes so used to this intimate lifestyle with another person that its jarring to be by himself.

That I quite miss home And I miss you telling me To leave my shoes at the door 'Cause you just swept the floor And the dirt drives you crazy Yeah, I quite miss home 'Cause it feels like poetry When the rain falls down on the window While you're in my arms And we're watching the TV Yeah, I quite miss home

the key here is what jaskier is referring to as “home.” it's not the place, its geralt himself. all these memories center around him, not an establishment. (calling geralt “home” comes back in later songs.) again, this mosh of memories is like theres so many of them that its almost overwhelming but its stemming from jaskiers need to feel something other than lonely and hes craving this reality that hes lost.

14. my tears ricochet by taylor swift (modern or canon era works)

this is a song that really emphasizes jaskiers dramatic little shit tendencies. this is something that he wrote, trying to predict what geralts reaction would be if he found out that jaskier died. this is really just jaskier fantasizing that geralt didnt actually mean any of what he said and does still care about him. theres many lines in here that are jabs at geralt (if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake? and Even on my worst day Did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me?), but i think this is the most important one:

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want Just not home And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones And I still talk to you When I'm screaming at the sky And when you can't sleep at night You hear my stolen lullabies

this is again, jaskier referring to geralt as home. as seen in the last song, he clearly wants to go there, but he cant. this could also refer to where he grew up, which he cant go to either because his parents still view him as a disappointment (as seen in finally). jaskier saying he still talks to geralt is completely in character, he probably still curses him and the whole thing. but the part about geralt not being able to sleep at night and hearing his stolen lullabies is really hard hitting. jaskier likes to think that geralt wouldn't be able to sleep without his banter or his lute playing or something of that nature. over all its a very powerful song.

15. phoenix by james arthur (modern or canon works)

this is a fictitious apology that jaskier wrote from geralts pov, kind of what he wished that geralt would say, but knows that he won't.

Let me, let me begin Let me begin, with an I.O.U Who I owe everything to Lately, lately my friend Lately, you think I'm ignoring you But I've been trying to pull through All of the pain, I know you're looking down, down on me I could have been someone I hurt everyone Pushed away everyone who got near

in this “geralt” outlines what he did wrong, and that he didnt mea what he said at all. again, this is more for jaskiers benefit because he knows that even if geralt were to apologize to him, it wouldn't be to this extent.

16. this is me trying by taylor swift (modern or canon works)

this is jaskier trying to articulate the fact that hes trying to pick himself back up after everything, his way of showing his “healing process” and that he can do it, he doesnt need geralt (as the song shows, its not going very well)

And it's hard to be at a party When I feel like an open wound It's hard to be anywhere these days When all I want is you You're a flashback in a film reel On the one screen in my town And I just wanted you to know That this is me trying (maybe I don't quite know what to say) I just wanted you to know That this is me trying

its showing that jaskier is having trouble enjoying things that he once did (like parties) because hes still so distraught over what happened with geralt, but at the same time he also wants to show geralt that he doesnt need him. it has a very i dont care kind of attitude, but jaskier at the same time is having a hard time showing geralt that hes doing okay, hence the “maybe i dont quite know what to say” which is out of character for the very talkative bard

17. happiness by taylor swift (modern or canon works)

this is more him convincing himself that things will be okay. he's clearly trying at this point to move on, but its proving difficult because geralt was his happiness for so long:

There'll be happiness after you But there was happiness because of you Both of these things can be true There is happiness

he also repeats the line “havent me the new me yet” a few times, which i think is again him trying to convince himself that its going to get better and he will move on from it. but this line is the one that i think hurts the most:

No one teaches you what to do When a good man hurts you And you know you hurt him too

this implies that 1. he still thinks geralts a good man (not a monster) and 2. that he knows he hurt him to and doesn't know how to fix either of them. this is also kind of him giving up on how to fix it, but him recognizing they were both at fault is important for the arc of the story.

18. death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift (modern or canon works)

this is another song that is not off of folklore (its from lover), but i wanted to include it because it think it has a little bit of anger to it (especially in this live acoustic version that i linked) which i think that jaskier would feel a few weeks post incident in a fit of rage, like why am i still feeling this way? why did you think that this was okay?? and its right after happiness, which shows that his healing really isn't linear. there's many lines in this song that pertain to geralt and jaskier and i could talk about the whole thing but im not going to

But if the story's over, why am I still writing pages?

this i think is very jaskier. its so raw and like, i know this is over, why am i still writing about it? why am i making an album about this? why should this still matter to me? its very angry and again, like many of the songs, like a slap.

My heart, my hips, my body, my love Tryna find a part of me that you didn't touch Gave up on me like I was a bad drug Now I'm searching for signs in a haunted club Our songs, our films, united, we stand Our country, guess it was a lawless land Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand Paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust Tryna find a part of me you didn't take up Gave you so much, but it wasn't enough But I'll be alright, it's just a thousand cuts

this part, especially if you listen to her sing it, (which i would HIGHLY RECOMMEND BTW) is very passive aggressive and the the last line is like quite sarcastic and downplays it, like, yes you put me through all of this, but i guess its *just* a thousand cuts. this really shows that in many ways geralt was a part of jaskiers life, and his sudden removal from it would have stung in many ways, and thats not something that you can get over quickly.

19. empty space by james arthur (modern or canon era works)

this song starts the beginning of jaskier getting over geralt. these last 4 songs would have been written much after the incident, after hes had time to think, but there's still this nagging in the back of his head thats like, well what if im being stupid and he is the one and im supposed to go back?

I don't see you You're not in every window I look through And I don't miss you You're not in every single thing I do I don't think we're meant to be And you are not the missing piece I won't hear it Whenever anybody says your name And I won't feel it Even when I'm burstin' into flames I don't regret the day I left I don't believe that I was blessed I'm probably lyin' to myself again

this is more what jaskier wants to be, not what he actually is. he thinks that hes over geralt, but hes not (the chorus gets into it more but im not going to talk about it here, but it essentially says “only you can fill this empty space”) clearly jaskier is further along in his healing process, but hes still having second thoughts. he wants to be over him, but he knows hes lying to himself, very deep down.

20. coney island by taylor swift (more modern era interpretation)

this is the true moving on song. it’s still laced with memories and speculation, but it puts clear distance between the two of them, much more so than empty space does because it lacks the longing. it just shows things for what they are.

And I'm sitting on a bench in Coney Island Wondering where did my baby go? The fast times, the bright lights, the merry go Sorry for not making you my centerfold

its apologetic, but nothing more than that. it dwells more on what could have been rather than what he wants it to still be.

The question pounds my head What's a lifetime of achievement If I pushed you to the edge? But you were too polite to leave me And do you miss the rogue Who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? Will you forgive my soul When you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?

this is interesting because it addresses their immortality and how they've been together for years and also the way in which they left things (paradise). but it also implies that things were on the downfall. and the last two lines about forgiveness is interesting because it then calls geralt “too wise to trust me and too old to care” meaning its more a wish of jaskiers rather than something he knows geralt will do.

Were you waiting at our old spot In the tree line By the gold clock Did I leave you hanging every single day? Were you standing in the hallway With a big cake, happy birthday Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest grey? A universe away And when I got into the accident The sight that flashed before me was your face But when I walked up to the podium, I think that I forgot to say your name

these are all very specific, very intimate moments that would clearly mean something to geralt. and it further implies that jaskier is uncertain if he actually made geralt feel appreciated when they were together. but again, its more what could have been rather than what jaskier wanted it to be, which is a nice segway into the last two songs.

21. new years day by taylor swift (modern era interpretation)

this is another one not from folklore, this song is the closing track on reputation, but i like the nostalgia of it so i decided to include it (and it also has good parallels to the last song). initially jaskier intended for this to be the last song on the album, but decided to add another one last minute (and we will get into why). this song is more jaskiers muted longing to still be with geralt, albeit in the far future.

There's glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before but Don't read the last page But I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

this interpretation is very much like the actual songs interpretation: the desire to stay with someone through the unexciting parts of life, like cleaning up after a party on new years day. additionally, wanting to start something new with someone (being there with them past the midnight kiss and actually starting the first day of the year with them). additionally though, there is the line of “dont read the last page” which refers to the last song on the album, which we will get to.

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you And I will hold on to you Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere

this is more jaskiers reality. hes torn between holding onto these memories and hopes and actually facing reality. he wants to hold on to geralt, but he also kinda wants to move on. and the last line about the laugh, thats more jaskiers own hope, he hopes that he will come across geralt again and things will work themselves out.

22. the 1 by taylor swift (modern era interpretation)

the decision to make this song the last one on the album was a very last minute decision, and it was written significantly after the rest of the songs. the reason for this was without this last song, the album ends on a note of hope “Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere” but this last song is more of a reality check and acknowledgment that what's done is done and that it will never be again.

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit Been saying "Yes" instead of "No" I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

this refers to the fact that its been some time since the whole thing and jaskiers kind of changed a little bit. he claims hes doing good, and maybe is going to try out a new career (since the first song references wanting to put music down for awhile). seeing geralt at the bus stop is a reference to cardigan where he says “chasing shadows in the grocery line” where hes not actively looking for geralt anymore and it doesnt upset him that he didnt see him.

I guess you never know, never know And if you wanted me, you really should've showed And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow And it's alright now

this is jaskier saying that hes almost glad that it happened because it gave him a new perspective and it was a learning experience. he also says that its alright, which is the second time that hes said hes okay, which probably means he isnt completely, but hes much closer than he was on the rest of the album because hes not still looking for geralt at every turn

I have this dream you're doing cool shit Having adventures on your own You meet some woman on the Internet and take her home We never painted by the numbers, baby But we were making it count You know the greatest loves of all time are over now I guess you never know, never know And it's another day, waking up alone

this is jaskier acknowledging the fact that geralt has probably long since moved on with his life, either with other romantic people or with his life entirely (the first time he does this on the album). he says that while their love or friendship was unconventional it still was definitely something (implying that it may have been one of the greatest loves of his life). and the waking up alone part references quite miss home and being by himself, but it isnt sad, its just a fact at this point.

But we were something, don't you think so? Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool And if my wishes came true It would've been you In my defense, I have none For never leaving well enough alone But it would've been fun If you would've been the one

this is the part where we see that jaskier has grown. hes recognized that his wanting to be with geralt was never anything more than a fleeting wish or a moment that couldn't last. but he knows that it had potential and it could have worked but it didnt and thats okay. in the last chorus the pennies line is “rosé flowing with your chosen family” which implies that he and geralt were close enough to know each others family (chosen or real), meaning that it meant something. and he wouldn't have minded a long term relationship with geralt, but its not what happened.

in new years day jaskier says “dont read the last page” this song is that last page. part of him still doesnt want geralt to know that hes put aside the hope of it working because he wants to still keep himself open for geralt, but knows that its not healthy and ultimately he needs to move on. hes essentially giving geralt the choice: remember jaskier as wanting to get back with him (since the last line of the album would have been “please dont ever become a stranger who's laugh i could recognize anywhere” or let him have the knowledge that jaskier is done with him (since the official last line of the album is “but it would have been fun if you would've been the one”)

anyway thats jaskiers breakup album. i put way too much effort into this. and if you actually read through the whole thing, thank you and please let me know what you think!! if you use this for fics or have your own interpretations please please tag me, id love to see!!

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #wow this took so long #literally so long #id recommend listening to the songs tho theyre all kinda vibey #there's like a million songs i could have used but i liked these ones cause i think they have a very nostalgic vibe #also dont get me wrong jaskier would also eventually release some sones like uhh #truth hurts by lizzo #like very fuck you breakup songs #but this is him being sad first #anyway im literally only posting this cause witcher anon said they wanted to read it #i hope you like it my dude

43 notes · View notes

twixtandshout · 3 years

Text

Tagged by @pidgeonpostal! And not tagging anyone else because I have SOILED the original template (soiled it!!) in deference to my [brushes off skirt] mostly clean public-facing appearance.

...I’ve been making a lot of Spongebob memes lately for someone who has not seen Spongebob.

How many works do you have on AO3?

71!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

...306,834. Jesus.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Uh. Many! I do a lot of one-offs (and/or start long things I never finish) in many different places. My top three fandoms by fics written are RWBY (29), Undertale (25), Gravity Falls/Transcendence AU (4).

Bet you can’t tell where my hyperfixations have fallen.

I’ve also got some Pokémon and Sonic the Hedgehog fics back on my ff.net account, or I think I still do, anyway, but let’s never go back there pls

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Sweeter Than Honey (Undertale): Taking a Completely unsurprising first place, with over 600 more kudos than the runner-up, the haphazard Underswap fic featuring a post-college self-insert I wrote just after high school! I shake my head some at how overblown and ridiculous the gap between this and all my other stuff is (c’mon, guys, I’ve written way better fics), but this is also the fic which prompted me (and at least one other person!) to start using they/them pronouns. I’ve gotten a lot of really sweet comments about how seen and appreciated it’s made people feel, so I can’t get down too far about it.

2. To Be A Hero (BNHA): I don’t count myself as part of the BNHA fandom, for a number of reasons, but for something that’s arguably the main motivation for the entire plot, Midoriya’s quirklessness is something I’ve never thought has been handled well. This fic marked the first time I (somewhat tentatively) claimed the disability label (thanks again to Sweeter Than for prompting that realization) to hold that lens over canon. It also really shot up my chart, dang! It’s the only thing here I’d consider “recent.”

3. Three-Sentence Shipping (Undertale): Self-explanatory.

4. Brothers Beyond Bonedaries (Undertale): Ah, the way-overcomplicated AU³ I got nowhere close to finishing. One of the things I really like about Undertale is the interface screw, how Toby Fox uses the medium of the video game to pull off crazy things and enhance his game, but most of the fic written for the fandom seems dedicated to explaining it away, grounding it, rather than taking it to the next step and messing with the medium of fanfiction when you keep the story going. I tried to do something cool like that here, playing with questions like narrator and authorship and breaking the fourth wall, even taking the “final boss” fight to a “totally separate” fic reached through the first by link – but, well, then I never finished it, which probably didn’t make anything less confusing for the poor folks who missed the intent.

5. Spirit and Such (Gravity Falls: Transcendence AU): A whole fic written to line out a particular image I had, which, naturally, never made it to the page. I consider it a bit of a cautionary tale for myself when it comes to writing (near-)original content; there’s a lot I look back on and cringe. I still love the characters, though – well, the important ones – and I think just stepping away from the tried-and-true Mizar formula nets it a star sticker here.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

>w>; I try, but a lot of the time I just don’t have anything to say? Like, oh, you liked it? Neat. There’s not much to respond to in comments like that, and then I’m weighing falling down on an ~obligation~ to respond to every message in my inbox vs annoying people with copy-paste fluff responses all down the page. Plus I know I make more of an effort to comment on things that didn’t get the attention I feel they deserve, so if I’m driving up my own comment count with nonsense, am I preventing myself from being in a position to receive more comments later? And then if I do comment, am I being too effusive or running people’s ears off explaining things they don’t actually need to know? Sometimes people just want to express interest or admiration and don’t necessarily want a whole peek and guided tour behind the curtain.

Can you tell I have anxiety? x3;

Anyway, I do respond when I can. And I keep most of the comments I’ve gotten to go back and reread.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hm, hmm. Lots of stuff in the TQ Nonsense series would probably qualify! I’m thinking of Unfixable, Wolfsong, and Ethanol. And there’s Bursting Through A Blood-Red Sky (I Can Live, I Can Breathe), of course, but that was always intended to have a fix-it epilogue. It’s just that I wrote it in a couple of hours day-of, stared at it, and decided I didn’t wanna just then. But now that’s As Long As You’re Still Burning Bright (I’m Still Awake), and that’s probably the best romance I’ve written, so that one worked out.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Now and then! When the urge strikes. Uhhh, I’ve got a series of Doctor Who x Undertale crossovers I actually made a whole dang verse for that never made it to print. Get a couple great comments on that every few months or so. I think the World Trigger x Undertale crossover is probably weirder, though, by virtue of WT being a very small fandom. My enthusiasm kinda sputtered out on that one.

Mostly I just daydream crossovers with whatever happens to catch my eye at any given moment. I have a lot!!!! Though odds are out on whether I manage to remember any of them once the initial thought’s passed, lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Gotten a couple eyebrow-raising comments, but I think mostly I’m just too small a writer to draw that kind of attention.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t? think so? Think my tastes are a little niche for most people to bother ^^;

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone apologize once for any language mistakes in their comment cause they had to run it through a translator! That’s not what you asked (the answer is no), but it’s very flattering to think that someone liked my fic enough to read and comment despite the language barrier.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! :D @pidgeonpostal was gracious enough to agree to co-write Five Nights at Denny’s with me off an idea about shoes. This has fulfilled a long-held dream of mine (collabing with someone, not the shoes) and also introduced me to some lovely people.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Who has time for just one? ;3c Honestly, I care more about the characters and how the relationship – any relationship – between them changes them than I do about ~A Ship~ as a solid, bounded noun-object. I’ve got characters I like more and less and feelings about who does and doesn’t have chemistry in which directions with whom, but finding anything that agrees with those preferences is hard, harder when you take alloromanticism into account. I’ll play in any sandbox with cool toys, especially if other folks have already built sick sandcastles there.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

[kicks every single unfinished fic further under the bed] What nooo no WIPs here, everything on my account is either finished or does not exist

I’ve got a couple extra chapters of Sweeter Than floating around unposted, but 1. that fic’s a mess 2. high school Twixt and post-college Twixt are different people and trying to contort myself into three other me-shapes just cause people Like this fic is not something I’m super interested in 3. it’s headed for an emotional dip and I’d rather leave it where it is than post two chapters, stall out again, and leave folks with a bad end.

As for other fics... it’s looking more and more likely that v7 of my Yellow Brick Road AU will never actually make it out. >w>; I’ve got some really great ideas, but not enough to make me feel like I know what I’m doing, and that’s a big roadblock. Plus trying to engage with RT’s Atlas-Mantle worldbuilding in any serious capacity is... a headache. I can’t recommend the Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe enough, but it leaves some pretty big shoes to follow! And I’ve got small feet. <w<;

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue’s fun, probably as an extension of characterization. I love tearing into what makes people tick, especially against the backdrop of their environment, the story they’re in, and the people they’re up against. Voice is a double-edged sword; I’ve been told my writing is really recognizable and individual, but on the other hand, I’ve been growing frustrated with with the limits of my narrative ability. There’s a strong rhythm I keep when I write (you might notice it here, even) but that leaves me feeling predictable and stale. I’m not sure I’m great at setting as a matter of course, but I’m pretty good at describing setpieces where the need comes up; that comes from my background in poetry, as does the fun I have with sublimating and abstracting complex imagery. And I think I bring some needed nuance to the universal. For good or ill, I don’t do what “everyone else” is doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, writing, for one thing. If I don’t know how something’s going to go and don’t have the urge to write it, it isn’t getting done, which means there’s a billion things that will never see the page and a few hundred more that are never getting finished. I lose momentum easily and have a hard time getting started, and I put way too much standing on finding a foothold with other people; as critical as I am of my work, I have high expectations for the stuff that passes muster, and it never seems to measure up. I’m also really uncreative. Yeah, I can mix up elements and extrapolate events, but coming up with things wholesale is really hard, which is why I avoid it wherever possible and steal/reskin stuff from other places instead.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Something along the lines of “Hoo boy, I am Not qualified for this but hopefully it’s decent anyway.” Maria’s Spanish lines haven’t been a big deal – I’ve used it sparingly and, as a Latin language, it should be easy for English-speaking audiences to pick up on the gist – but I’ve had a harder time with Tai’s Chinese, both because I have Even Less background there and because it is, of course, an entirely different language system. If I write it out in English or Romanized italics, am I colonizing it or changing the meaning? If I write it out in the presumed-original characters (presumed because it’s Google Translate and who knows if I’m even barking in the right forest), am I confusing or alienating my presumed-majority-English-speaking audience? Where should I put the translations? Should I put the translations? And for Frisk’s sign language, thinking back, are the brackets I used instead of quotes alienating/infantilizing? I like that different characters give the text between a different feel, but I’m not an ASL speaker – and I’m pretty sure the word is “speaker,” which would only reinforce that that demographic would rather I didn’t do that. It’s important for all these characters, I think, that they use non-English language where it makes sense; it’s part of who they are. But as a white monolingual English-speaker, I don’t think I can really weigh in.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Thaaaat’d be Pokémon, followed closely with Sonic the Hedgehog. Whether those fics are still on my ff.net account or not (pretty sure I’ve purged them, but you never know) I’ve still got a couple saved to a folder on my current laptop, ostensibly so I can look back and see how far I’ve come and more practically to allow for the possibility of furthering group cohesion through public shaming.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I still like the idea behind The Man Who Is Atlas, and Burning Bright (Still Awake) gets props for being my current fic, though it’s currently in that spot where I’m excited to get new chapters posted but also quietly marking everything up in red pen. I think Harbinger gets the crown here, at least for now.

#answerin' stuff

3 notes · View notes

jjk-biased · 4 years

Text

FATE'S GAMES SPECIAL

*not canon or part of the storyline, sorry 😔✋🏽

smau masterlist

content that didn't make the cut:

— chapter 25 alt end:

𝗶𝗳 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗹 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱

“Daniel Y/L/N,” you gritted out.

“Long time no see, sister.”

The fucking nerve of this guy to even have the face to meet you. He somehow still upheld a small smile, which made you more livid.

“Why are you here?”

“To make amends. Is that too bad?” He shrugged lightly, too casual for your liking.

This was the asshole that had caused you a lot of years of suffering. He was the reason you had to shed blood, sweat, and tears to simply finish your degree in college. He was the root of your problems, the cause of why you had trust issues.

Mainly, he was the reason why the only people you could call your family was the seven best friends who took you in.

“You lost that chance years ago, Daniel!”

You tried your best not to let the anger within you take the wheel. If it did, you were sure you had to leave Seoul with a case of murder stained in your records.

“I’m leaving,” You murmured, snatching Jungkook’s hand and storming off to God knows where.

He followed you wherever you went though. No matter how many turns you took, he was hot on your tail. It took so much in you not to break Jungkook’s hand from the frustration you felt.

“Just give me a chance to explain, sister,” He pleaded.

You finally heard the desperation leak in his tone. Giving up, though not letting your guard down, you allowed it. You gave him yet another chance to redeem himself.

With reluctance, Jungkook left you to talk to Daniel. After reading his last message and texting Hoseok, you closed your phone.

Let’s relive the years of anguish, you sarcastically cheered internally.

“Don’t call me sister. That title died with you three when you moved to America without even so much as telling me,” You breathed out, tears trying their best not to fall from your eyes.

Daniel visibly flinched at that jab. He was a shitty brother after all.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to happen…”

“What a shitty excuse. You didn’t mean for it to happen? What bullshit is that?”

“I never thought they’d take it too far,” He whispered, unable to keep eye contact with you. If he did, he would see how much pain he had caused you.

You chuckled rather sarcastically.

“Yet they did. And you never did anything, did you Dani?” You sneered, the nickname that left your mouth didn’t feel as warm as it did.

Growing up with a traditional family wasn’t something you both could escape from. Your parents had a love-less marriage, meant only to expand whatever business they had.

As first-born, Daniel was expected of a lot of things. Intelligence, charm, and any other business-related characteristic that should help them prosper. But he wasn’t any of those things. He didn’t take interest in the entire idea. Instead of stocks and investments, he wanted modelling. Instead of maths, he wanted fashion.

Neither your mother nor father were having it.

So while he was forced to sacrifice his childhood for your parents, you had the freedom to exercise yours.

He’d be gifted with various accountancy and business related textbooks and would watch as you played with your toys and dolls. He never had those.

Your parents didn’t pay mind to your hobbies. They didn’t mind that you often geeked out at every video game you loved. They were too focused on making Daniel the CEO he will be.

He was angry. He was envious.

But he would be lying if he said he didn’t love you.

You were an empath at heart and would often cheer him up when the pressure was too much. He could still remember when you discovered him breaking down after a certain scolding happened— you dropped everything to rush to his side and say “It’s okay, Dani. I’m here for you.”

The memory of the countless cupcakes you had attempted to make just to make him smile was still etched in his mind. They weren’t the best tasting cupcakes out there, but they were made by you. And it made everything okay.

However, every thread snaps when it reaches its breaking point.

He had reached his— his envy became far too strong than the care had for you.

It was supposed to be a light remark so their parents could give him some sort of leeway in life. But the anger rushed out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop the word-vomit from pouring out.

He watched your parents’ treatment change and had to witness you take the burnt for him. You were now the one they had criticized at every twitch of a finger. They suddenly turned against you, angry at how you “wasted” your life with videogames.

He regretted every single thing he had said.

Perhaps it’s too late now.

“I had no power over them, you know that,” he muttered, taking your silence after he had explained everything as a cue to speak.

“You know… I never really minded them moving to America. But even you left me, Dani,” you croaked out.

“I’m sorry.”

“I became broke when I entered college. I had to work different jobs and eventually stick with the career I have.”

“I’m sorry,” He whispered once again, hands clasped tightly.

“I had no one else to rely on for a few years until my friends showed up,” You sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

It seemed more like a mantra by now. While it wasn’t enough to compensate for each day you had to go by without anyone else, it eased your heart a little bit.

He had also mentioned that he was sent by his parents to fix whatever you two had for the sake of the company. Your fame would bring them benefits, they said. Your brother ignored whatever ulterior motive they had initially planned, and took this chance to finally own up to the shittiest fuck up he had done.

You were thankful for the honesty, sensing that he was true to his word.

“I can’t forgive you immediately, you know,” You reminded, fiddling your thumbs out of anxiety.

“I know. I don’t mind waiting.”

Your brother had finally returned to you.

Jungkook stood beside you as you two waved your brother goodbye. He insisted on holding your hand when you two bid Daniel adieu.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to Jungkook, who had been patiently waiting for you and Daniel to talk it out.

“I’m so—”

He cut you off by tightly engulfing you in his arms. Jungkook softly patted your head as he brought you closer with his other hand.

“I’m glad you’re okay, pumpkin,” Jungkook said ever so gently, resting his chin on your head.

Turning red at his gesture, you allowed yourself to melt in his arms and returned the hug by wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Thank you, kook. I can’t tell you that enough,” You murmured, feeling warm from his gentleness.

He had sadly broken up the hug soon after. It was the first time you’d seen his ears become red but you didn’t point it out.

Clearing his throat, he once again took your hand in his and led you to wherever the others were. He said you might get lost if he didn’t clutch one hand and it would be hard to find you because you were vertically inclined.

If everyone else heard his excuse, they’d definitely say Sure Jan.

You didn’t mind though, actually liking the feeling of his large hands encasing yours.

And if you did mind, you couldn’t actually speak. After all, Daniel decided to leave you with a few parting words that made you embarrassed and rattled.

“You seem to have a crush on your guard dog, N/N.”

Ah you should’ve smacked him when you had the chance. You? Have a crush on Him??? How ab...surd…

You honestly didn’t know anymore. But Jungkook’s hand in yours, you were certain that everything will now turn out fine.

Jungkook’s only problem now was how he’d be able to find the courage to say what he wanted to say earlier.

I like you, Y/N.

But he was content with whatever you two are now, your hands snugly fit with his.

*note: the reason i didn't chose this path is because it seems illogical. don't you think?

i mean,,, it won't be easy to forgive Daniel for what he had done,,, so i made him the bad guy ;-;) but it gets better in the end i swear!

also another reason was i really wasn't happy with how it turned out ;-;) seemed too rushed for them to make amends doesn't it?

this post is part of my special milestone event!

and another fate's game bonus is a q&a with the characters!! (but no one sent in asks throughout the week so it's still open) so if you have questions for the characters, send asks!!

taglist: @armymaknae @rjsmochii @chogiyeol-utopia @deolly @liitlefaiiery @patpus @br0ther-s @tyraparker @ancailinaerach @tae165 @cherrycolababie @nininek12 @atulipandarose @hannahdinse8 @hereforaus @thewariestofheads @thia-aep @diorhobii @seungcheoluwu @mipetronella @callmesenpaix @jungshookmeup @yoongisabby @parkchaeyoung1997 @alpaca1612 @bangtan-serendipity @karissassirak @fullsunkook @salty-for-suga @cholychi @smolbeaniejimin @netflix-batman-sleep @snickerdoodleeee @faeriegukkie @kpop4mysoul @crazylittlemay @theneighborhoodfangirl @ughtear @youurkryptonite @lovelyseomin @pureshinso @kawaiimusiccollection @aviwasabi21

permanent tag: @luvinseokjinnie @97faerie @amoreguk @bbyjoonies @borednia @tanumiki @taescake

#lin's special event #fate's games special #unused content #bts x reader #bts #bts social media au #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x reader #fate's games

45 notes · View notes

becasbelt · 4 years

Link

Words: 4,874 Fandom: Pitch Perfect (Movies) Rating: T Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell Characters: Chloe Beale, Beca Mitchell Additional Tags: Angst, Pining, Canon Compliant Summary:

Chloe is in love with Beca, and Beca is in love with Chloe. Just… not at the same time.

In which Beca and Chloe can’t seem to figure out their timing.

Dedicated to my loving mother @darby-carter <33

* * *

Falling in love with Beca Mitchell isn’t something that Chloe necessarily expected upon their first meeting, but she can’t say that she’s particularly surprised by it, either. Chloe has always been free with her emotions- something that her mother always says she admires about Chloe.

Although she can’t really know for sure, Chloe likes to think that she generally feels things faster and stronger than most people. When she hates someone, she will go out of her way to avoid them at all costs. When she likes a show on Netflix, she will spend every waking moment watching it and looking up any information she can find on it. When she crushes on someone, they become all-consuming; Chloe thinks of them constantly.

So when a small spark of attraction starts deep in her chest for Beca, Chloe knows that it is only a matter of time before Beca completely takes over Chloe’s world.

And take over Chloe’s world she does, with startling swiftness and terrifying completeness.

Because even if Chloe has been in love before, every kind of love she’s felt in the past pales in comparison to how she feels about Beca.

And sometimes, Chloe thinks that Beca might just love her back.

Beca is a naturally prickly person, Chloe has noticed. Averse to almost any form of physical contact, affection, and intimacy. The emotional side of things isn’t much nicer. Beca hardly answers questions about herself and tends to get her way out of any conversation that seems like it may be heading in a sincere direction. It’s almost impressive how well she does at distancing herself from others, both physically and emotionally.

Maybe that’s part of why Chloe falls for her so hard and so fast; she just aches to make sure that Beca feels loved in some way.

So naturally, Chloe inserts herself into Beca’s life.

And Beca, shockingly enough, doesn’t really seem to mind.

At practices while Aubrey is lecturing Amy about her lack of cardio, Beca will slink away from Stacie’s attempts of showing affections towards her, only to allow Chloe’s arms to circle her middle from behind a moment later. Beca will answer Cynthia-Rose with some sarcastic quip when she asks why Beca is in the Bellas if she hates it so much, yet when it comes up in a late night conversation with Chloe a week later, she seems to have no problem opening up about how her dad will help her move to LA after the year is done if she ‘shows some real effort.’

Chloe seems to be Beca’s exception in almost every aspect of life, which thrills Chloe to no end.

Beca kissing Jesse is unexpected and surprising, to say the least.

Chloe didn’t think that Beca even liked Jesse as a person, let alone liked him as a potential romantic partner.

Watching Beca and Jesse kiss quite literally breaks Chloe’s heart. She cries about it on she and Aubrey’s couch for a solid week until Aubrey tells her that she needs to get over it, because it’s not like she and Beca were even dating or anything.

It was just a crush, Aubrey tells her. She hadn’t even known Beca for all that long, Aubrey says. You’ll be okay, she assures her.

But none of those things feel true to Chloe.

It’s funny, Chloe thinks as she watches the Hallmark channel, bottle of open wine cradled in her lap protectively. It’s funny how discovering that someone you have a crush on likes someone else feels like a breakup, even though you were never even in a relationship to begin with. At the end of the day, the person who broke your heart never technically had any obligation to love you back, because they never knew how you felt in the first place. It is an entirely one-sided heartbreak, which makes it all that much worse.

And since Chloe has always felt emotions more strongly than others, she thinks it’s pretty safe to assume that her heartbreak hurts more than it really should.

* * *

Failing Russian lit isn’t something that Chloe necessarily expected herself to do, but she can’t say that she’s particularly surprised by it, either.

The class was hard, and Chloe knew that she had done poorly on a lot of the tests and assignments in it, so her failing isn’t exactly the most shocking news of the day.

There are both upsides and downsides to Chloe having to stay in school another year.

Positives: Chloe has another year to figure out her life before she has to face the harsh reality that is the real world. Chloe gets to be in the Bellas another year, which is arguably her favorite thing in the world. Chloe gets to stay with Beca for another year.

Actually, the whole ‘staying with Beca’ thing could be a downside as well.

It’s a downside because Beca is dating Jesse, and Chloe is still tragically in love with Beca.

The thing is, Beca justmjust it so easy to be in love with her.

It’s in the little things that Beca does. Like the way she makes mixes for Chloe and gifts them to her with a shrug, telling her it wasn’t a big deal. Like how she looks so adorably grumpy cuddled up with Chloe under a blanket during Bella movie nights. Like how her cheeks flush whenever Chloe kisses her cheek, allowing it with only a small amount of grumbling.

Every single little thing that Beca does is endearing to Chloe, which is as frustrating as it is wonderful, because Beca gives Chloe so many reasons to hope that they could be together someday. It’s in the things she says:

“I’ve never known anyone like you before.”

“You’re the only person I feel like I can trust in this world, Chlo.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

If Beca didn’t have a boyfriend Chloe would swear that Beca felt the same way. If Beca didn’t have a boyfriend, Chloe would have absolutely told her how in love with her she is by now. But the reality is that Beca does have a boyfriend, one which she is very much in love with.

So for now Chloe will just ignore all the different ways that Beca Mitchell can make her heart clench and selfishly hope that Jesse and Beca won’t work out in the end somehow.

* * *

Chloe is still selfishly letting herself hope three years later, with no end in sight.

Emily asks them if they’re dating one day over lunch, causing Beca to almost choke on her food. Chloe pats Beca’s back as she tries to fight the blush blooming on her cheeks, avoiding sweet, innocent Emily’s curious gaze.

“What?” Beca squeaks out as soon as her airways are clear again.

Emily blushes deeply. “I was just wondering if you guys are dating, because you’re always holding hands and sharing a bed and saying ‘I love you’ and you just seem to know each other really well.”

Beca laughs as if the idea is absurd, and Chloe ignores the slight pang of hurt that it sends to her chest. “Oh wow, no. We are definitely not dating, Chloe’s just super affectionate.”

She’s still laughing as she says it, as if it’s the funniest thing in the world, which makes Chloe feel slightly offended. “You make it sound like dating me is the worst thing that could ever happen,” Chloe says coolly, raising an eyebrow at Beca.

It’s almost comical actually, the way both Emily’s and Beca’s eyes widen in response to that.

“No no no, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” Beca rushes out. “I just don’t think we’d never date.”

Chloe’s pushes down the tears suddenly threatening her eyes. “And why not? You don’t think we’d be good together?”

Beca shakes her head and laughs in astonishment. “Jesus, dude, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“That’s what I’m hearing.”

“Why are you pushing this so hard?”

Chloe shrugs in an attempt to act indifferent. “I just want to know why you wouldn’t date me.”

“Because you’re my best friend and I don’t think I could ever like you like that.”

Silence follows Beca’s statement, filling the kitchen with tense energy. Emily looks between Beca and Chloe nervously while they stare at each other. And as much as Chloe is hurt by Beca’s words, by her claim that she could never see Chloe as more than a friend, she still can’t help the way that her eyes drift down to Beca’s lips.

“Thank you for the clarification,” Chloe says quietly before forcing her eyes away from Beca’s face. She stands from the table and moves to set her plate in the sink, excusing herself from the kitchen without another word.

Beca doesn’t come after her.

* * *

Somehow Chloe ends up moving to New York with Beca.

Well, Beca and Fat Amy, that is.

Chloe never expected to move to New York, but she can’t say that she really minds it all that much. It’s vibrant and exciting, full of people and possibilities; exactly Chloe’s type of scene.

Except, Chloe usually spends the night in with Beca instead of experiencing all that New York has to offer.

Beca, who is recently single for the first time in nearly four years.

Beca, who came out to Chloe a couple months ago over an intimate dinner at a nice restaurant.

Beca, who will never see Chloe as anything more than her best friend.

And Chloe, being the hopeless, stupid romantic that she is, still can’t help but feel a tiny bit of hope that something will change between them. The hope is small, nearly completely put out at this point, which is exactly how Chloe likes it. Being in love with Beca at this point is more like embers in a fire bit rather than a raging inferno: still there, still warm, just not quite as intense.

Although, some nights those embers spark into a small flame, and those nights are usually aided by alcohol.

Tonight is one of those nights.

And Chloe honestly really hates herself, and hates Beca, and hates emotions, and doesn’t understand what the point of anything is anymore.

But damn if Beca still isn’t just as breathtaking today as she was when Chloe saw her at that activities fair five years go.

Beca is talking about… something. Chloe honestly isn’t sure what she’s going on about, because she’s had nearly a full bottle of wine and it’s making her head fuzzy and right now Chloe is positive that Beca has never looked so good in all the years they’ve known each other, even if she is only wearing sweatpants and an old Barden t-shirt.

“And like, I asked him if he was happy with that take, and he just shrugged so I was like ‘do you want to run it again?’ and he shrugged again, which really made me want to shove his fucking sunglasses down his throat.”

“He’s stupid,” Chloe says distractedly, though she doesn’t know who Beca is even talking about at this point. She’s too busy admiring the earrings lining Beca’s ears, and the curve of her neck so perfectly on display thanks to how Beca's hair is pulled up in a messy bun, and the shape of her lips and how kissable they look.

Chloe was sitting on the other end of the couch from Beca. She knows she was because she purposefully sat on the other end at the beginning of the evening to keep herself from reaching out a touching Beca impulsively.

So Chloe was sitting on the other end of the couch, but she is definitely not sitting on the other end when she pulls Beca in for a kiss by the back of her neck.

As soon as Chloe realizes what she’s done, she is immediately mortified with herself and starts to pull away. Hands coming up to cup her face halt her retreat, however, and a mix of confusion and elation overcomes her when Beca starts kissing Chloe back.

Their kisses become increasingly more frantic the longer they last, Chloe eventually pushing Beca back against the couch cushions to lay on the top of her. Chloe isn’t sure how long this dream that she’s in is going to last, so she figures she might as well enjoy it for as long as possible.

Chloe deepens the kiss, tongue pushing its way past Beca’s lips as Beca groans beneath her. Beca’s hands tighten in Chloe’s hair, not necessarily pulling or pushing in any way; just holding as if Beca is trying to anchor herself. Chloe knows that she’ll have to pull back for air soon, but she’s scared that as soon as they stop the dream will be shattered, so she tells her lungs to suck it up and pushes her lips harder against Beca’s.

Beca is the one to pull back, her head pressing against the cushions beneath her to gain some distance between Chloe’s lips and her own, chest heaving as she tries to steady her breathing. Chloe is panting too, but instead of taking the time to breathe probably she begins pressing lights kisses to Beca’s neck, unwilling to part from Beca quite yet.

Beca’s breathing starts to even out and she lets out little sighs of contentment at Chloe’s ministrations, hands stroking softly through Chloe’s hair. Eventually Chloe’s lips stop moving and she relaxes her body fully on top of Beca’s, enjoying the closeness as she buries her face into the crook of Beca’s neck.

The hands in Chloe’s hair move until they’re running lightly over her back instead and Chloe resists the urge to shiver. She remains quiet, not wanting to shatter the calm that surrounds them. Beca says no words either, and that is the way they remain, tangled up on their shitty couch in their shitty New York apartment until they fall asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Chloe wakes up still entangled with Beca. Beca is still asleep – which doesn’t surprise Chloe, she’s always been the earlier riser between the two of them – so Chloe carefully climbs off Beca and makes her way to the kitchen to make some coffee.

Beca wakes up with a grunt just as the coffee finishes brewing, and Chloe smiles a little at the familiar action as she pours coffee into two mugs, settling down in one of the chairs at their tiny kitchen table.

“Morning, Bec,” Chloe says once Beca is sitting up and looking a little more alive.

Beca grunts again in response and shuffles over to the table, plopping herself down across from Chloe and reaching for the second mug of coffee. She takes a generous sip and curses when it burns her tongue, and Chloe can’t help but chuckle in response.

It’s a few minutes later when Beca is finally awake enough to form actual sentences, and what she says makes Chloe choke on hot coffee.

“So what was last night about?”

Chloe coughs as she tries to clear the liquid from her throat. Beca winces in sympathy. Chloe uses the choking as an excuse to find her words, because she honestly had not expected Beca to confront her about their impromptu make out session.

“Um, I don’t know,” Chloe says hesitantly after a minute. “I was just drunk, I guess.”

It’s a lame excuse. A terrible excuse, in fact.

“Oh,” is all Beca says.

“What about you?” Chloe questions, turning the question on Beca. “You kissed me back.”

Beca shrugs and avoids eye contact with Chloe. “I’m not sure. Like you said, we were drunk.”

Disappointment fills Chloe as Beca opts for the easy cop-out as well. “Right,” she says, looking down at her coffee. “Just a drunken mistake. Nothing more than that.”

And in that moment, Chloe feels those burning embers within her completely die out for good.

* * * * * *

Falling in love with Chloe Beale isn’t something that Beca expected upon their first kiss, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t surprised.

Because Chloe has been Beca’s best friend ever since her first year at Barden, even if she tried to downplay just how close they were a lot of the time. She didn’t want to say that she saw Chloe as a sister, because there would be a lot to unpack there if that were the case, but Beca definitely never thought of Chloe in a romantic sort of way at all.

Sure, Chloe was kind and thoughtful and always knew just how to make Beca’s day better. She was always there when Beca needed someone to talk to, or a shoulder to cry on, or just a good hug because she’d had a shitty day. And Chloe really did give the best hugs, and Beca always felt so at home in her arms, especially when they were cuddled up together after falling asleep while working on Bellas stuff or homework or just talking until they could barely keep their eyes open. Plus, Chloe has always just understood Beca in a way that nobody else ever has…

Shit. Had Beca been in love with Chloe the whole time?

The realization that Beca had possibly been in love with Chloe for years causes Beca to pull away from the kiss that had grown decidedly more heated than any friendly kiss should ever grow. Her chest heaves as she struggles to catch her breath, both overwhelmed with the passion of the kiss and the way her thoughts have attacked her in such a sudden onslaught. Chloe moves to kiss her neck, seemingly undeterred by Beca’s withdrawal, and Beca is torn for a moment between pushing her away and pulling her closer before ultimately deciding to do neither.

Beca remains silent – save for the involuntary whimpers and sighs that escape her due to Chloe’s lips moving against her body – as she processes her new emotions. Eventually Chloe stops her ministrations and settles her weight against Beca, and Beca waits for the inevitable moment that Chloe pulls away and makes them talk about what just happened.

Except, that moment never comes. Chloe only burrows herself deeper into Beca, apparently content to remain silent for the remainder of the night.

Which she does- which they both do, actually. Chloe falls asleep soon after, leaving Beca to stare at the ceiling in the dark of their apartment and wonder how her heart is still beating so fast in her chest.

* * *

Beca holds off her curiosity about the whole thing the next morning for as long as she can, but ultimately ends up caving only about half an hour after waking up.

“So… what was last night about?” Beca attempts to sound casual, but is painfully aware of how much she’s failing.

She asks the question right as coffee goes down the wrong pipe in Chloe’s throat, causing her to start coughing for a few moments. Beca winces and internally curses her poor timing.

“Um, I don’t know,” Chloe says once she can speak again. “I was just drunk, I guess.”

Beca’s heart sinks. Of course it was because they were drunk, why else would Chloe have kissed her?

“Oh,” Beca says lamely.

“What about you?” Chloe asks suddenly, glancing at Beca. “You kissed me back.”

Panic fills Beca at the question, so she tries for an indifferent shrug and stares into her coffee. “I’m not sure. Like you said, we were drunk.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Beca thinks that Chloe’s shoulders might slump a little. “Right,” she says softly. “Just a drunken mistake. Nothing more than that.”

Beca looks back up at Chloe only to see that Chloe’s eyes are directed down towards her drink. The sun shining in through their apartment's sole window shines over Chloe, bathing her in golden light. Beca’s heart pounds painfully in her chest at the sight and fuck- right there in that moment she feels herself fall hard.

* * *

Being in love with your best friend is difficult, Beca has decided. On top of that, being in love with your best friend and living with them and sharing a bed made it all that much worse. Beca wouldn’t ever wish it upon her worst enemy.

Beca wishes things could go back to the way they were before, when neither of them were secretly in love with the other, and when Beca’s heart didn’t feel like it would burst out of her chest when Chloe came home from work in the evenings, and when Beca felt like she could tell her best friend anything.

Beca wishes she wasn’t in love with Chloe.

But the thing is, Chloe makes it so easy to be in love with her.

It’s in the little things that Chloe does. Like the way she always makes coffee for Beca in the morning, even though Beca has two perfectly good hands and could make it herself. Like how she’s always willing to give Beca a back massage after a long day of Beca hunched over a soundboard or computer for work. Like the way she doesn’t seem to mind Beca’s frequent awkwardness in most aspects of life, telling Beca that it’s ‘endearing’ to her.

Which Beca thinks is unfair because every single little thing that Chloe does is endearing to Beca. Chloe makes Beca feel like the most loved person in the world without trying. It’s the way she says things like:

“You’re my favorite person in the world.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life, Bec.”

“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

Beca has never had someone that is such a stable in her life like Chloe is. Beca never has to worry about if Chloe has her back, or if she can trust her, or if she’s someone Beca can count on because Chloe has done nothing but be dependable in the six years they’ve known each other.

And while Beca would like to tell Chloe how she feels about her, she can’t. She can’t tell Chloe and risk losing the singular best thing that she has ever had in her life.

* * *

Beca doesn’t know who this Chicago guy is, but she does know that she hates him.

She doesn’t know why exactly she hates him- actually, no, scratch that because Beca actually has many reasons why she hates him. At the very of top of that list is the way Chloe can’t seem to get enough of him.

From the very first moment Chicago stepped into view and introduced himself, he had Chloe following him around like a little puppy. Beca had tried to keep up with them at first, trailing uselessly along Chloe’s side, attempting to jump into their conversation every now and then, but ultimately decided that it was no use.

Chloe was hooked on this guy, which meant that Beca’s presence when she was around him was obsolete.

Beca didn’t like it.

For years now, Beca has been used to being Chloe’s favorite person in any given situation. She’s gotten used to (and fond of) the way Chloe clings onto her in some sort of way when they’re together- holding her hand, looping their arms together, hugging her waist from behind. Except now Chicago is the one on the receiving end of Chloe’s physical affections. Chloe is always pushing his shoulder playfully, or brushing a hand down his arm, tugging on his hand; any excuse to just touch him, it seems.

Beca feels colder than she has in a long time without Chloe’s presence near her.

And Beca has never been one for physical affection. Physical touch is decidedly not one of her love languages. Beca has always been more of a quality time type of person, where no contact or words are necessarily needed for her to feel close to someone, but now that Chloe has stopped directing all her touchiness towards Beca, she realizes just how much she craves that connection with Chloe.

Throughout the course of the entire USO tour, Beca begins to feel like Chloe is pulling away from them- whatever them is. Beca has never felt so much distance between them, both physically and emotionally. The whole situation is rapidly spiraling out of Beca’s control and she has no idea what to do about it.

So Beca decides that she’s going to tell Chloe how she feels. She’s already losing Chloe as it is, so she might as well say fuck it and go all out.

Beca dedicates her final performance to Chloe, even if she never actually tells anyone she’s doing so. She thinks she makes it pretty obvious, though, what with the way she doesn’t take her eyes off of Chloe for the entire first half of the performance before inviting the rest of the Bellas onstage. Their eyes connect and Beca smiles from the stage, thinking that maybe there is a chance that Chloe feels the same way.

When all the Bellas rush to hug her at the end of their performance, Chloe the first one to do so, Beca has to resist the urge to kiss her right there onstage in front of everyone. Beca doesn’t want to rush this, she wants to do it right.

As soon as Beca is able to break away from all the ‘important’ people she needs to talk to afterwards, she starts rushing around to find Chloe. Her thoughts start spinning in her head as she tries to figure out what exactly she’s going to say.

You’re the greatest thing in my life.

I’ve never wanted to be with someone as much as I want to be with you.

I love you, Chloe. I love you I love you I-

Beca finds Chloe.

Chloe is kissing Chicago, looking happier than Beca has ever seen her before.

Suddenly Beca understands exactly what people mean when they say their heart has been broken.

Because she feels it happening to her right now.

* * *

The silence between Beca and Chloe in the car is uncomfortable, which is how all their silences have been since returning home from the USO tour.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, having uncomfortable silences with Chloe. Pretty much since the first time they hung out, they have always been comfortable around each other. Part of that is because Chloe is a natural at interacting with people and makes conversation easily, but even when they weren’t even talking things were always easy with them.

The silence between them now feels like it’s trying to choke Beca.

Arriving at the airport feels almost like a blessing to Beca, because it means that they don’t have to endure the tension any longer, but it is also most definitely a curse as well.

Because arriving at the airport means that Beca is leaving for LA soon. It means that she is leaving Chloe soon.

They walk through the airport until they get to security, making small talk along the way. Beca stays mostly quiet, though, internally debating with herself the entire way. Because she is quite literally running out of time and now is her last chance to tell Chloe how she feels, but she knows that Chloe is with Chicago now and it would be unfair to dump all of her feelings on Chloe before she jets off to the other side of the country.

And Beca is afraid. Afraid of losing Chloe, afraid of telling Chloe how she feels, afraid of never telling Chloe how she feels.

But Beca figures it’s now or never.

“I have to ask, Chloe. Did you… do you think we ever could have been something together? Something more than friends, I mean,” Beca says quietly, uncertainly. She swallows before adding, “Do you think we could have loved each other?”

Chloe smiles softly and gently laces her fingers with Beca��s. She leans forward and brushes a kiss against Beca’s cheek, and Beca’s eyes instinctively close at the feeling. “Beca, I think you I both know that we loved each other. We just… never seemed to get the timing right is all.”

Beca’s breath hitches at the words. Chloe smile turns a little sad and she squeezes Beca’s fingers once before letting go.

The speakers above them inform Beca that her flight is ready to board, so Beca grips her suitcase handle and prepares herself to walk away.

“I love you,” Beca tells Chloe before she can lose the nerve. “I think I’ll always love you.”

Some expression flashes on Chloe’s face – regret, sadness, clarity, maybe – but it passes too quickly for Beca to tell exactly what it is. “And I think a part of me will always love you, Bec.”

And somehow that’s all they say before Beca is turning around and walking through the gate of her flight, all of her senses feeling completely numb. She wills herself to turn back and rush towards Chloe; to kiss her, to tell her that she can’t go to LA, to tell her that she can’t live without Chloe in her life. She wills Chloe to call out to her and tell her to stay, tell her that she loves her, to give Beca a reason to stay.

Beca doesn’t turn back, and Chloe doesn’t call out.

And maybe that is the most unexpected thing of all.

#fanfic #pitch perfect #bechloe #theresa wanted angst #so i wrote some angst

104 notes · View notes

stellarcat52 · 4 years

Text

Timeless blue Chapter six

Set my soul on fire, this ended up longer than planned. Also, it’s my first entirely original chapter for this?? Everything else had elements from canon?? But this doesn’t?? So sorry if it’s garbage?? Anyway, there was a totally different planned path here but like hell I can write kiss scenes so... sorry. (Trust me, it’s better this way.)

Returning to Camelot with Excalibur fixed, a shadow mage now in training, a false knight wielding a sea monster tooth, and a once-blue Akiridion Royal turned dark gray, was not the highlight of the forty-eight hours after the quest.

It was around midnight, everyone had gone off to do their own thing whether it be sleep, get drunk, or talk with the past self of one of your friends, or so Douxie thought. His memory wasn’t changing though, not majorly. He remembered seeing their small party come back, hearing the cheers from Arthur’s closest knights, the ruckus caused by Steve’s drunken songs, but not Krel. No talks after sundown, just the jealousy of being left behind.

And... as it happened to both of them, the knocking on the door of Hisirdoux Casperan. Hisirdoux, unaware that Krel would not be the one holding a conversation with him tonight, and Douxie, aware of the possible regret he would feel after his past self opened the door.

“Oh.” Hisirdoux was beyond freaking out over seeing himself, so he gestured for Douxie to enter.

Hisirdoux knew he shouldn’t ask for spoilers in their life, he’s had enough just by meeting the people he would eventually call friends, but he was tempted.

“You should go talk to him, find him...” Hisirdoux blinked. “Krel, the blue one. The one you’ve been trying to flirt with.”

“Our boyfriend? Why don’t you?”

Douxie goes through a series of expressions, surprise, augh, err, and finally settling on speaking. “He’s not our boyfriend, not in the future I know. I only really spoke with him after the whole time travel mix up. Before that, I barely knew him as a person, and I’m not really sure he would have been able to remember my name.”

“So, my flirting...”

“Helped me realize he’s exactly my-our... type. Which is why I think you should be the one to talk with him. I didn’t want to bring up what happened on the way back here from the lake. But he isn’t okay.” Douxie leaned against the door, “he needs someone.”

Hisirdoux couldn’t understand what was happening. But honestly, he didn’t want to see it continue. “Then go. We’re the same person, but you have a chance of staying by his side longer. And if he’s not our boyfriend now, there’s still a chance after you get back to your present for that to change. I don’t think a relationship between two people hundreds of years apart will work as well as we want it to.”

Douxie wanted to argue, but as he opened his mouth to say no, he remembered the vivid counter arguments going through his head that moment. “Okay! Fine.” He raises his hands in surrender. “But you’re gonna have to go through this too one day.”

“Yeah yeah, now go make sure I’m not single for my entire life.”

Hisirdoux shared a somewhat sad smile with his future self, kinda wishing he didn’t have to wait nine hundred years to be with the prince. He was left alone until Archie flew in through the window, landing on his shoulder and earning scratches under his chin.

———

Douxie found the gray prince in a garden hidden away near the castle, Krel’s alchemic books and outfit nowhere in sight. The wizard’s heart wrenches as he notices what’s in Krel’s hand.

A phone.

Krel’s phone, with pictures of friends and family and experimental music, with memories. He was using the device needed to change to his human form to charge his phone.

Douxie felt bad for interrupting, despite the lack of a second party. He stood by the stone wall for a minute, until he noticed that Krel was looking at him.

The light of the phone had faded, Douxie must have shown up in the reflection because as he was taking a moment to glance at the stars and moon, Krel had turned to face him.

Krel stayed silent as Douxie asked to join him on the surprisingly soft grass. He realized why when Krel’s broken voice barely overwhelmed the night’s crickets. “What happened to me..?” The phone clicks on to show it’s background, Krel and Aja in their Akiridion forms, Steve was being kissed on the cheek by Aja and Eli was trying to keep his full face in view. Probably one of the last pictures they took together before Aja and Eli went to Akiridion-5, and yet it seemed so happy and full of energy and light.

“We’ll get home, I promise, Krel.” Douxie shifted a little, finding it more comfortable to sit cross-legged rather than with his knees to his chest like Krel was doing.

“And this whole disaster? The world’s ending, and I’m not even sure my family would recognize me.” Krel’s sets of arms were wrapped around himself, he was looking at the gray skin that once glowed blue like his sister’s, and his parent’s, and everyone else he had grown up with and who he shared a planet with for his entire life.

“Hey.” Douxie watched tears bubble up in the corners of Krel’s eyes before he hid his face away in his knees. “Anyone would need to be blind to think you’re anyone but the amazing Prince Krel Tarron, master tech genius and Guardian of Arcadia. We’ll work through this. We’ll save the world and I promise you, if you want it, I’ll help you find a way back to your normal blue color. Okay?”

Douxie awkwardly moves to high Krel, but decides against it as Krel peeks over at him. “I was scared. Claire was scared of corrupting herself, but in that void...” Krel hugs himself tighter. “When this happened to me... I was scared. I saw you guys fighting, and I couldn’t think logically and I couldn’t focus on anything but you.”

“Me?” Douxie’s eyes were wide, and he would be surprised later as the Akiridion didn’t notice the small blush growing between his ears. “Like the group in general or me specifically?”

“The group.” Douxie’s blush grew out of pure embarrassment. “But when you said my name, I stopped being scared and I just wanted to say ‘I’m here’.” Krel’s head leaves his lap entirely, meeting Douxie eye to eye, and freezing for a second. “And then I was, and..” Krel’s voice was breaking again.

“And it was scary again?”

“No...” Krel cracks a small smile, “Thank you. I didn’t say it earlier, but you brought me back.”

“I’m not the one who did anything there. You just appeared in a blob of black bubbles, like they appeared and faded away as well, you.”

“Was it magic?” Krel‘s mismatched eyes flickered from Douxie’s face to the grass between them.

Douxie nodded without a second thought. “Shadow magic.”

“I think I knew that already.” Krel’s eyes settled on the grass for a minute before Douxie starts speaking again.

“Magic is terrifying, I was lucky to get my hands on this cuff, I have heard of wizards who were caught and killed just because they couldn’t restrict their magic before they gained control of it. Even restrained, it takes years to master. One wrong spell and you blow up something important or create an infinite hallway instead of levitating something.” That earned a small laugh from Krel. “The point is, if you have magic, the only way to stop fearing it is to learn how to control it. Who knows? Maybe creating a portal will zap the magic out of you and everything will go back to normal.” Now Krel was fully smiling again.

Douxie stands up to leave, about to say goodnight when Krel reaches out and pulls him in for a hug. He hugs back, and lets go once the Akiridion seems done. “Thank you.” Krel whispers in Douxie’s ear before taking a half step backwards. A pale glue glow was shining through the gray, straight from the royal’s core.

“Do you want to try using magic? I’ll be right here if anything goes wrong.” Douxie suggested, lighting up his cuff with a quick tap.

Krel thought back to when Claire used magic for the first time, and without answering Douxie a swirling orb of black and teal energy envelops him.

Douxie doesn’t think, he jumps into the orb and meets the uncontrolled shadows beyond it. Meteors fly past him and Krel’s gray body is hardly visible right in front of him. Their hands meet, Douxie pulling them away from Krel’s chest.

“Breathe. Can you create another portal to get us home?” Krel shook his head, trying to pull his hands back to his chest. “You’ve broken the laws of physics before, remember? You’re strong and smart and you are in control of this.”

Krel’s eyes look up to see Douxie’s again. His mouth opens, moves, but no sound travels through the space between them.

Douxie tries to read his lips, only half catching the sentence. “You.” Being the last word, and the only one he was sure of. His eyed unfocus, and he blinks his eyes open. The swirling sphere stands before him, solid as rock, the dull pain on his forehead tells what happened. Could Krel hear him in there?

“Krel!”

The orb shatters and Douxie finds Krel standing in front of him. The teal color had returned to his form, a single gray vein like line the only remaining oddity.

Krel blinked, he had heard Douxie call out again, and focused on that, well, the memory. Of leaving the void the first time in the cave of the lady of the lake.

“Is it gone?”

Krel focusing for a second, a miniature swirling portal appearing in his left hand. “No.”

Douxie grins as soon as he realizes that Krel is smiling. “You’re gonna be alright now.”

Krel nods, looking at his arms with that grin Douxie only remembered from when Krel thought he had cracked magic for the first time. That thrill of experimentation gone right.

His past self might be upset later, but Douxie chose to stand up and motion towards the castle. “I’m going to sleep, I think you should too.”

Krel’s smile dropped, but he got up too and started heading inside, much slower than Douxie knew he was capable of.

“Krel?” Douxie stayed next to him, wondering what was wrong all of a sudden.

“I was hoping... we could still talk?” Krel requested, causing a smile from both of them.

Douxie glanced at Krel’s hands, which were fidgeting, and gently grabbed one. “We’ll have a sleepover, okay?”

Krel nodded and they walked into the castle, hand in hand, with no one around to disturb the pure happiness both of them felt.

The spoke until Krel started to fall asleep, and Douxie didn’t bother trying to stay awake past that. Krel had made mini portals, and even another solid sphere, Douxie suggested referring to them as traps. He hadn’t seen this kind of magic usage before, and he was more nervous than excited to see its extent, Krel seemed very conflicted in that area.

The sun rose, and both of them were asleep, unaware of the future, and unconsciously holding onto each other through a needed, restful, sleep.

#timeless blue fic #krel x douxie #douxie x krel #drel #krexie #toa wizards #tales of arcadia wizards #set my soul on fire is fun to say when I’m stressed and tired

24 notes · View notes