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omgkatinka · 3 years

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Breaking and Entering

Summary: Your cat gets you into trouble with your grumpy new neighbour

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

>>> chapter 2

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of abuse; anxiety, angst, grumpy neighbour / Also: English is not my native language and this is my first and probably last attempt at writing. I do not even know why I tried. This is eventually a result of procrastinating from learning for my exam next week. I mixed up tenses.

Also not betad.

Words: 2.127

Here you were. New Job. New city. New apartment. Again. The past years have been a hassle of starting over.

When did your life take that turn? When your mother died? When you had to leave your grandfather to live with your father because you were underage? When instead going to study English literature like you always dreamed of your father made sure you’d get some fancy business master’s degree? Or when your ex-fiancé abused you and no one believed you because he was not just abusive but manipulative. Your life possibly finally took that turn when you ran. Head over heels. Leaving everything behind but your cat. You stopped counting the places you lived. Well rather visited for you never stayed long. Sometimes your ex would show up and you’d flee. Or you thought you had seen him in a crowd and flee. Or you were getting restless. High Functioning Flight Mode. All the damn time.

Moving days were a constant companion and those days smelled like freedom. It was just you, your SUV and your cat. The little fella would proudly ride shotgun while you sang along your old school rock playlist. Your whole life fit into a car.

This time it is Minneapolis. Large city. Anonymous, easy to vanish. You scored a job at a major financial player. Major as in Fortune 500 major. Thankfully, you worked project based for a while now, so no one ever really questioned your constant moving all over the nation. If they ever read that far in your resume that is. Summa cum laude in combination with a Harvard degree opened most doors for you.

The furnished apartment you found was in a half decent neighbourhood for a change. It was not the smallest you’d lived in and it faced the back of the building onto a yard hosting a huge oak tree.

Settling into Minneapolis was easier than it should have been. Your new co-workers were friendly. Too friendly. Not one lunch break you would get to spend on your own. Especially Marta from accounting was keen to talk to you. She was lovely. It was not her fault you never made friends. Because you never stayed. But still, that insistent woman and a couple of more people gave you a sense of familiarity you would never have expected from a huge company like that.

Most of the new neighbours greeted friendly too. Most, apart from one. When you were unloading your car, he stood right in your way, a bear of a man, shooting you a death glare. Mumbling something about not being allowed to park here and stomping off. You did not pay attention to his word, being intimidated by his sheer size. A broad beast, grumpy at that. You made a mental note to avoid him. Great plan.

Here ‘s the thing with your plans: they tend to simply not work. Three weeks after starting over, you come home to for once not being greeted by Jack. Your cat Jack. Named after an infamous pirate because of his funny face and weird way to walk. Not being greeted by Jack stirred panic. He was old but almost never failed to wait at the door for you. He did not today. Searching the whole place for him you came up empty. When you realised, you had left the bedroom window open in the morning you started to hyperventilate. He liked to sit outside on the fire escape while you got ready in the mornings. Looking outside he is not there either. By now you were freaking out, running downstairs, calling for Jack. Climbing up the roof. Nothing. By now you were crying. Starting to search the apartment one more time. And then once more. At some point you cried yourself to sleep until you are woken up by frantic knocking at your door. While still trying to figure out where you’re at, you glimpse the clock. It says 2 a.m.. Great. And what is this noise? Right. Knocking. On the door. Furious by now.

Opening your door, you find your grumpy neighbour. Even more grumpy. Scowling. „Is this thing yours? “ he asks, lifting Jack into your line of vision.

As relieved as you were to have your cat back. That was when things got out of hand. Thanks to that scare you frantically double checked every window every day before leaving for work. All is good for five days. When you get home on the sixth though – Jack is gone. Again. And the window you double checked the very same morning is open. You panic. Torn between hoping Jack broke into your grumpy neighbours’ place again hence being safe and him sitting on the roof calling out pigeons. You check the yard, the roof. No Jack. Hesitantly you knock at Mr. Grumpy’s door. No answer. Going onto midnight you hear the elevator and spy onto the floor. There he is. You brace yourself and head out. Looking apologetic. „um Hi, I am so sorry, but my cat escaped again. Would you mind checking if he did break into your place again? “. He does not answer. Unless grunts count as answers. He just raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head in direction of his door. You avoid breathing and follow him into his apartment. Where you find your cat sits lounging on the couch like he owns the place. You cannot help but snort. That is what you get naming the little fella after a pirate. Breaking and entering seems to be his thing. It takes you a moment to realise Mr. Grumpy is staring at you, so you take a deep breath, apologize again and introduce yourself. „You really need to close your windows, you know? Not just from keeping that thing in your place but also to keep others out.“. Telling him, you double checked your windows just earns you a headshake. And there is that critical eyebrow again. Great. Then it dawns on you „if your so adamant on checking windows, how do you think Jack got in here? “. Now he looks puzzled. „Who is Jack? “ he asks and you fight hard to not snort again. “The cat, obviously” you answer. That earns you another grunt. ‘Great at communication that specimen’ you think and grab your cat. “Uhm, I am so sorry he, uhm…, we invaded your place again. So so sorry. Thanks for your patience. Good night, Mister?” “Marshall”. And that is the last thing he says. “Well good night Mister Marshall”. At that you hold on to your furry, purring companion and head back into your apartment. From now it will be triple checking the windows it seems.

Three times within the next you need to get your cat from his new favourite hideaway during the next week. The only new thing is Mr Grumpy telling you “it’s just Marshall”. Everything else is the same. Like being trapped in a fucking time lapse. Him scowling, telling you to “fucking check your windows” and giving you that critical eyebrow of doom. Each time though, you start to notice things. About his place. About him. He seems to live out of boxes. His shelves are empty. The only cosy thing seems to be the fluffy blanket Jack made his favourite place on the black leather couch. Also, he wears a gun. And a batch. You despise guns but guess this one comes with the job. And his accent is foreign. No, not foreign, it is English. A bit like a lost, grumpy Mr. Darcy. WHAT? Mr. Darcy? You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you finally going insane? Now take your cat and get out of here!

How do you reason with a cat? You surely tried but the next time you have not even noticed Jack vanishing. It’s a Saturday and you were just filling your coffee cup when there is knocking on your door again. You open the door to a sleepy looking Marshall, holding Jack. Shrugging. Something is different. Taking your cat out of his huge hands you are about to apologize again, when he beats you to speaking “did you just make coffee?”. You nod and he steps into your apartment. “Well, come in, why don’t you?” you mutter and find him standing in front of your kitchen island, scratching his head, looking kind of lost. With huge eyes and a suddenly small voice he says “sorry for barging in like that, your little fella here woke me up. Pretty sassy for such a small guy. Would you mind sharing a cup of coffee? I forgot to go grocery shopping and seem to run out of everything.”. For a moment you stare at him, stunned from the number of words he just threw at you and the lack of grunts. When you remember how to use your words, you tell him to take a seat, grab a cup and ask him how he prefers his coffee. Fixing both your cups and setting them on the table you finally get to apologize again for your little intruder, constantly breaking into his place. Marshall just shrugs at that and admits, that he has no idea how Jack opens the windows. He himself started to double and triple check his windows and it should not even be possible to open them from the outside. It is that moment you realise what is different. He looks sleepy but barely as tired as before and more important. He’s not grumpy. That’s new. And you do not know how to handle that. After silently drinking his coffee, he thanks you for the coffee and crouches down to pet Jack and tells him something that sounds like ‘see you mate’, then tells you goodbye and takes his leave.

It is the next Friday that you come home to a post-it on your door with “Jack is visiting” scribbled on it. Somehow you remember your cat not being overly fond with men, but he seems to have a soft spot for this one. Or his couch. Taking a deep breath, you turn and move over to knock at the next door. Heavy relaxed footsteps near and Marshall opens the door widely, motioning for you to come in. “We were just about to choose a movie and call for pizza. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and join us?”. You look at the man as if he did just grow two more heads. Raising his eyebrow at you he adds “maybe choose pizza before you head over, so I can order already”. Shaking off the initial shock, you apologize. Before you can actually try to take a leave, he sternly asks “did you have dinner?”. When you shake your head, he repeats “come on, it’s just pizza and a movie. And maybe we should use the opportunity to discuss a shared custody arrangement for Jack.”. At that your stomach rumbles and when you see the glint in Marshalls eyes, you know this is a battle not worth fighting. And you are hungry. You tell him your pizza order and head over to shower and get changed. You wonder how you are not nervous about this. Since things went south with your ex you could hardly stand to be alone with one man. Let alone spend the evening at his place for dinner and movie.

Back at Marshalls place he offers you a bottle of water and his cosy looking armchair. While himself settling beside Jack on the couch. He suggests watching pirates of the Caribbean and you accept, telling him that you actually named the cat after Jack Sparrow to which he counters “It’s captain. Captain Jack Sparrow.”. The evening proceeds with you watching the movie, laughing and having pizza. You are taken aback to realise he actually ordered some extra tuna for Jack. From time to time, you catch yourself watching Marshall instead of the movie. He seems so much younger when relaxed. And handsome. How did you not realise what a beautiful face hides behind those curls and that beard?

After the movie you grab your snoring cat and thank Marshall for the evening when he pushes something cold into your free hand. You need a moment to realise, that he just handed you a key and give him a puzzled look. “I told you we’ll need a shared custody agreement, considering this little one keeps breaking and entering and claiming this apartment. I often work long hours and when shit hits the fan even spend the nights at the office. You might need it to retrieve the lodger.”. With that he winks - well tries to and fails – and opens the door for you, telling you goodnight.

#henry cavill fanfiction #walter marshall

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dreadwulf · 3 years

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1. It Was There That I Saw You

He hears it over the radio that first time.

“The Blue Angel is down.”

One of those crummy broadcasting setups that still run out of universities sometimes. Ancient amateur stations he picks up on the road while trying to plot out a route to the family compound around the Others. They announce sightings sometimes, rather like weather reports, or traffic updates. Undead on Highway 11, detour recommended.

The roads are clear that evening, and the drive is as quiet and peaceful as a biodiesel vehicle can manage, except for the news on the radio.

"The Blue Angel is down, and our world grows a little bit colder and darker," the radio man says.

Jaime switches off the receiver. He shakes his head slightly as he drives the ungainly armored car along the winding road, peering into the dusk without headlights. The radio man doesn’t know the Blue Angel. He’s some punk kid, was probably at uni when the Others first attacked and hasn’t ventured outside since. That’s who still broadcasts these days, old student outfits barricaded inside their campuses. This kid doesn’t know the Blue Angel’s name, probably doesn’t even know she's a woman. He will pay him no mind.

But he leaves the radio off for the rest of the journey.

At the Rock he pulls the car into the oversized garage and erects the usual gates and barriers behind him to keep the Others out. These precautions he can do in his sleep now, and he hardly has to think on them. He is more fortunate than most, now - living in a walled compound in a walled city offers a stability most people no longer have, one that would have been unheard of not very long ago. It gives him a more uneventful life, even some creature comforts. It's also, in his opinion, dreadfully boring. Which is why he never stays for long.

His thoughts pivot around the voice on the radio. The Blue Angel. He gave her that name, years ago, before anyone knew her at all. When it was just the two of them on the Kingsroad, and she was hardly more than a kid herself. Does the kid on the radio know that? No, he assuredly does not. The kid on the radio doesn’t know anything.

His brother Tyrion will have heard the news elsewhere. He doesn’t listen to radio, wouldn’t have any reason to since he never leaves the compound. But he has his own sources.

His brother is the second person to tell him, when Jaime walks into the front office loosening his tie. As expected, Tyrion’s still working - it would be either that or reading, even when the house goes dark. Their generator only runs a few hours a day, and his brother keeps right on working by lamplight when the time’s up.

Tyrion has taken over the family business, as well as the mansion and all its high walls. That happened after the rest of the family had been wiped out, while Jaime had been away. Ironic that he had survived them all, considering he had been essentially left to die when the Others came. Like many of the sick and disabled, there had not been much provision for his physical difficulties as a little person and he had been left to fend for himself. Anyone who couldn’t defend themselves was SOL in that first year. How he had even gotten himself home from uni is a bit of a mystery to Jaime. By the time Jaime managed to get himself there, his brother was already gone, and it had taken them a very long time to find one another again.

It had been his brother’s cleverness helped him survive, not his big brother, to both of their disappointment. Said cleverness certainly keeps them in business now.

Tyrion probably hasn’t looked up from his ledgers in hours, but he looks up when Jaime comes in, and keeps looking.

“Blue Angel’s down,” Tyrion mentions casually, but he is watching him closely.

“So they say.” Jaime whirls off his long coat and throws it over a chair. He has to sit right across from Tyrion to get within the circle of lamplight.

His brother’s mind works just a little bit faster than other people’s. The software he runs on is a little bit sharper, and before you can quite get a statement out, he is already replying. He gets bored of the formality of all these extra words and niceties. He doesn’t quite realize how obnoxious this is. As a result, Jaime never needs to say much. Tyrion will have most of the conversation without him.

“You don’t believe them,” Tyrion surmises, pushing his papers aside. An ill-fitting pair of glasses slides down the end of his scarred nose, and he has to catch them before they can fall off. Even Lannisters have troubles with eyewear these days. “I know you think she’s indestructible.”

“Near indestructible.” Insolently, Jaime puts his feet up on his brother’s nice mahogany desk, which used to be their father’s nice mahogany desk. Something about this room makes him act like a rebellious teenager. “It will take more than an amateur disk jockey passing on rumors to convince me.”

“True, rumors have been wrong before. I’ve heard that you were dead too, when you rode the Kingsroad.”

They don’t speak much of that time. Tyrion hated that Jaime abandoned the family to serve as a glorified mailman for five years, as he calls it. Escorting people and messages across the dangerous countryside in the early days of the Disaster might have made his name, and eventually added to the family’s renown, but this personal betrayal his brother has never forgiven. What he really hates, of course, is that Jaime left him alone with their father.

Jaime lets it pass, jokes with him. “I probably started that rumor myself, at least once.”

“Don’t let this distract you,” he says. Tyrion’s mismatched eyes go back to his ledgers meaningfully. “Running Lannisport is enough work, without you running off all the time. We’re trying to bring the Riverlands into the fold. I need you on task, not obsessing over a girl.”

Jaime snorts. Tyrion can hardly lecture him on distractions. Little he may be, he has no trouble acquiring female companionship. He seems to have a different lady on his arm every time Jaime comes around. Sometimes two.

Tyrion rolls his eyes. “Don’t start. My girls are different. I’m not mooning around after them years after they’re gone. When I lose one, I find another. You need another woman, Jaime.”

“With me running off all the time? Who’s going to tolerate that?” Jaime is bored of this conversation already. They’ve had it many times before.

“Romantics. That’s who. You’re off risking your life to join the old nation together again, you’re a dashing hero. Plus the whole Kingsroad adventure. Women love that. You could be swimming in girls if you spared them half a glance. It’s been five years, Jaime.”

“Four,” Jaime corrects him. Four years, three months, and eleven-or-so days.

Tyrion says this more solemnly, looking over his glasses, “If the rumor isn’t true this time, someday it will be.”

He looks very much like their father when he does that, which is unwelcome. Jaime snatches his feet off the desk and wanders away to find something to eat, the big Lannister mansion resounding emptily around him.

He manages to avoid his brother until he can head out again - he rarely passes more than a night at a time in this house. He checks for messages, refills his supplies, gets a proper shower, all of which he can do in a few hours. Such safety he finds oddly uncomfortable, if he lingers too long. He’ll be leaving the next day, and out the door before Tyrion is even out of his bed.

The traveling, on the other hand, takes an age. Not even he travels very fast these days. The armored car, which is more of a delivery truck, doesn’t get over 50kph, and shudders and lurches at the upper end. Real petrol might perk up his engine, but petrol is rare these days, and he can refuel the biodiesel at most settlements now. So he drives slowly and is on the road almost constantly, and stops at Casterly Rock as infrequently as he can manage.

Soon Jaime is hearing the same rumor everywhere, in snatches. He travels through the guarded and gated villages of the Riverlands on a regular circuit, drives through miles of nothing between aettlements, edging around clusters of Others that still live beyond the city lights. As he exchanges goods, messages, and information, he hears of the Blue Angel. Edges of conversation, news bulletins, idle conversation with gasoline sellers. His hosts at Pennytree gossip over it at dinner while passing around the green beans.

Did you hear about the Blue Angel? Damn shame.

Jaime always agrees wordlessly. People still like to feed him, remembering his own time guarding the Kingsroad in the beginning of the new era. He hasn’t been the Slayer in four years, has been a politician-cum-envoy for far longer than he ever battled the Others, but he is far better known still for the former. Arguing with his hosts would be pointless. He just finishes his meal, salvaged canned goods heated over a campfire out back. In those early days, this would have been a feast. It’s still pretty good now. Vegetables are more and more scarce.

No one seems to know exactly what happened. He hears a few variations on it; the tale is different each time. Turned by the Others, haunting the Kingsroad where once she had been its protector. Crushed in the fall of a skyscraper in the Eyrie. Slain in battle protecting a school full of orphans from robbers. The details are in debate, but there is a consistent center. The Blue Angel is dead. It's a rumor still, but one with all the authority of the old King’s Landing Times newspaper, of truth. Everyone is sure.

But they don’t know her. Not like Jaime did. If they knew her they would not believe it so easily. They would need evidence. They would need a body, a grave. Otherwise it's just not realistic that she could be gone. He is not worried. He’s not.

Tyrion passes on the same news the next time he’s at the house. No particulars, but the same word from his own channels of information. No one knows how, but the Blue Angel is dead.

Jaime has little patience for it now. Without any details, it’s still only a rumor. A remarkably consistent one, to be sure. But not enough to know for certain. He doesn’t even stop in the office, claiming exhaustion, avoiding conversation.

Tyrion finds him anyway.

“If you really wanted to know, you could ask The Spider.” His brother suggests late one night, startling him awake. “He could give you the whole story.”

Jaime had been dozing in an armchair in his own study, unwilling to go to bed and too tired to stay awake. He rubs at his left eye and yawns. “What time is it? You’re the only person I know who still wears a wristwatch.”

Tyrion looks worried. He stands there a long time waiting for him to answer.

“I don’t want to know,” Jaime mumbles sleepily. “Really I don’t.”

“Try to get some sleep, Jaime.”

In the bathroom mirror he has a few more gray hairs than before, visible even in candlelight. Before long there will be more gray than blond. He pulls them out one at a time.

It’s too bad he can’t pluck the laugh lines away from his eyes the same way. He hasn’t laughed in a long time now. They feel unearned.

Everywhere he goes for a week solid, it's a funeral. Holly branches along the road, and stray, somehow-preserved flowers. Bars full of black coated mourners, drinking morosely.

It irritates him. Makes him grind his teeth. He shouldn’t resent these people. He knows it’s irrational to feel this way. But what do they know? How dare they mourn? What have they lost? A legend, a leader, a hero? They don’t know the woman behind the stories. She is so much more than that.

For some reason it is the graffiti that finally gets to him. Seeing it written gives it permanence. Someone felt the need to document this, on a building, for all to see. First in an alley in Riverrun - written in an electric blue that seems to float over the dull brick of the building. “Blue Angel RIP,” it says, and it sears into Jaime’s vision. He sees it every time he closes his eyes.

Before long the makeshift walls around Raventree are covered in mismatched sprays of blue, the neat and professional swoops of seasoned graffiti artists alongside the amateur efforts of random passers by, all offering their tributes. At the center of them all is a portrait, as detailed as an oil painting rendered in spray paint, of the Blue Angel’s long cloaked form standing over smaller figures in protection. She’s holding her favorite weapon, a solid titanium baseball bat.

He stares at this portrait for a long time. It’s very good. She must have passed this way at some point. You can’t see her face, but she mostly keeps it covered anyway. This artist captures the way she stands, the gesture of her long, elegant fingers. This artist saw her, at least once, for certain.

It’s so strange. All of these people feel like they know her, that she belongs to them. And it’s true in a way. The Blue Angel belongs to everyone, she really does. But Brienne... Brienne belongs to a very few, if anyone, and if anyone then he is certainly one of them. And he knows she cannot possibly be dead. He knows it.

He stares at the graffiti portrait until his vision blurs and he can’t see anything anymore.

Jaime cuts off the rest of his circuit after that. Drives back to the Rock, as slowly and deliberately as ever, always watching for Others that he could be leading to the compound. In the house he stays only an hour. Packs a small bag and leaves the keys to the car on Tyrion’s desk, along with all his dossiers on the Riverlands, and his appointment book.

Then he takes out his motorbike and drives it across the Riverlands, wastes precious petrol cruising the old highways dodging the snarls of abandoned cars. Tries to outrun the news. The wind blasts through him like a cold knife. He uses up one of his few remaining chargeables to get an mp3 player playing again, painfully loud, the heaviest music he can find. Hailstorms of guitar riffs assaulting him through the earpiece. He rides until his face is numb from wind and his nerves are rattled and brittle.

The Spider’s lair moves between rest stops these days. King’s Landing is still too dangerous, overrun with Others, and he likes to be off the map. Jaime checks a dozen highway offramps before he comes across the black RVs he is looking for.

He leaves the bike some distance away, as is the custom. The sound of a motorbike will bring Others running from miles away, and it’s impolite to lead zombies to people’s front door. Jaime walks the last mile in darkness, quiet as he can. He should have brought more weapons than a single pistol. He didn’t really think this through. But if the Others came to investigate the bike, he does not encounter them walking south, and before long the pavement opens out into a runaway truck ramp and a parking lot, and he can feel eyes on him from the line of trees beyond.

The Spider’s gang greets him with guns cocking, friendly as always. Black leather gargoyles. When they emerge from the shadows into the moonlight, Jaime puts his hands up and drops down to his knees. He waits for them to decide whether he can approach or if he has to move on and try again another night. He doesn’t hear them talking, but they communicate somehow, silently. He’s determined, over the years, that they use some kind of hand signals, but he’s never caught them doing it.

The mobile home is painted black, and it’s almost invisible in the night. The Spider doesn’t take visitors in the daytime. The gun at his back pokes him directly up to the door.

On the inside, the trailer is flooded with fluorescent lighting of the kind rarely seen anymore. After years of lanterns and lamps, it looks otherworldly. Dreamlike. The Spider, in his silk robe, seems to gleam in the artificial light, reclining on his cushion-covered couch.

“Slayer,” he says mildly, gestures for Jaime to sit in a chair opposite him. “It’s been some time. What brings you to--”

“If you know anything,” Jaime tells him flatly, staying where he is just inside the door, “you know why I am here.”

Varys looks at him with cool, calculating assessment. His bald head shines thoughtfully.

“I do. But do sit down, you’re upsetting my birds.” In their cages all around the room, crows shudder and caw. Their black eyes stare unblinkingly at the intruder. The bald little man gestures again to a cushioned seat welded into the trailer.

Jaime acquiesces only enough to take a few steps further into the trailer, standing over the Spider’s chaise lounge. Varys shrugs him off, not remotely threatened. He smiles up from his comfortable position as though it’s a deck chair at a beach, and Jaime is there to take his drinks order.

“That is a fine prosthetic you have there. I would never have known, if I didn’t know everything. The color is perfect, just perfect. Which one is it, right or left?"

The Spider doesn’t really expect him to answer. He knows that Jaime has kept a tight lid on that detail, so far. There are certainly people out there in the world who know for certain, and he will surely find out eventually, but the Spider has not gotten any of them to talk just yet. He will fish for the information just the same. It’s a reflex, at this point.

"Where in the world did you get it? I didn’t think they made things like this anymore, not to custom. But you’re a wealthy man again, aren’t you? Even after Armageddon, Lannisters stay rich.” The spider shows a sliver of teeth. “You would think that money and influence would mean nothing in the new world, but it isn’t so. We simply deal in different currencies now. Your brother realized that faster than most. Clever man.”

Jaime remains standing.

The Spider’s fingers drum his seat warily. “I, of course, recall how you helped me to escape King’s Landing. Have you come to call in this debt?”

“Is she dead?” He spits out the words like he will not taste their poison if he is rid of them quickly enough.

Varys hesitates. Just for a moment, but it is enough to make Jaime blanch well ahead of his answer.

“Yes. Without a doubt.”

Jaime’s throat tightens around the word. “How?”

“How else? The Others.”

Jaime takes one more breath, and chokes on it. He can’t get any more words out.

He turns and slaps his palms against the door of the trailer so that it bangs open and he is out into the freezing night again, running, past the blurry borders of the rest-stop and into proper forest, and when he cannot run anymore he drops to his hands and knees in the mud and opens his mouth and wails until he has no voice left.

His fists beat into the earth as though he can make it give her back.

When there’s nothing left inside him he gets up. Stumbles unseeing back through the forest. Raw and shaking, he pushes through Varys’ honor guard of former bikers, back into the Spider’s Lair.

Varys has not moved since he left him. He watches Jaime drop down into the chair opposite him as though it were only moments since he gave his terrible answer.

“Would you like to ask for your boon now?” the Spider asks.

“Yes.” Jaime leans forward. “I need weapons.”

***

Let me hold you in my arms dear

And let me melt in the heat of your gaze

And let the clock strike one,

Time and mind go marching on

Let our sense of selves decay

It was there that I saw you

In the heat of a summer's embrace

But as time went on

I wondered what went wrong

I wondered what became of you

“It Was There That I Saw You”, ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead

#And You Will Know Them By the Trail of Dead #dreadwulf fic #braime #jaime x brienne

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mp100fanworkstranslation · 3 years

Text

Reigen gets a Smart Phone

Reigen thinks: When did they all switch to smart phones?

So does that mean I’m the only one still using a flip phone?

No... No that cant be, the main purpose of a cell phone is to communicate. In that respect, it does great. More functions are not necessarily useful. Most of it is just entertainment and pointless frills.

The battery drains faster, the screen is a lot easier to break and they’re more expensive.

Haaaaa!! Check it out Losers! Six super rares! Told you I’d get ‘em!

Serizawa: WHOAA!! Ekubo Senpai, you’re amazing! That’s so much grinding, I’m not even close.....

Mob: My mom won’t let me to play on the phone at night, so I never get the chance to grind.

Ekubo: HAHAHAHA That kind of skill is difference between you ordinary people and gods like me! um... not including shigeo’s ???% form that is....

Reigen: Um.... Guys?

Reigen: Aren’t you guys spending too much time playing phone games at work?

Serizawa: Ah! I... I’m sorry.

Mob: But isn’t this our lunch break?

Ekubo: HAHAHAHAHA What, you guys can’t tell? Reigen’s just jealous cuz he doesn't have a smart phone.

Reigen backpedaling: I’m just curious is all. Why did you guys all decide to switch to smart phones all of a sudden?

Serizawa: The GPS app is really helpful, now that I’m no longer at home all the time. The other apps are really useful for work and school.

Mob: My mom got it for me after I did well on midterms.

Ekubo: How should I know. It came with the body.

Some time later, Reigen is outside the phone store looking at the ads.

The phones are free. The plans range from 90 to 100 dollars monthly.

Reigen: It’s almost a hundred dollars a month! Several times more expensive than my flip phone.

This is a money sink that’s not going to contribute meaningfully to my life.

Ugh.. when I really think about it, I don’t need a phone with so many functions. The phone I’ve got now is by no means old, and I’m pretty used to it.

Reigen: I can’t get carried away by vanity. I don’t blindly mirror the choices of others, that’s not who I am and how I want to live.

Little girl: Mom, that basic guy has one of those basic phones.

Mom: Shh! Not out loud! ------

Cashier: Thank you for the purchase!

-Later at Reigen’s apartment-

So this is the cutting edge of communications technology... It feels like opening a treasure chest. - as he opens the box -

WOOOOOW!!

Ah! so this is the user manual. I see... I see. What was the game they were playing?

Found it! Ooooooo! My avatar looks so cool.

Hahaha found Ekubo! What a fitting avatar for an evil spirit!

Ah! Mob’s avatar is adorable. Aww he’s going to sleep now.

-The next morning-

Ugghghhhh can’t keep grinding....

You can’t get past any of the bosses without seriously strong upgrades.

-Gets up stiffly-

Okay time to spin for the powerup bonus.

-He taps to draw a new powerup.-

.....................

NO RARES, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!

-throws phone- -nervously catches it again-

No gems left, no gold left.... is making an in game purchase the only way to get more draws?

No wait Arataka, it’s just an app game... be reasonable!

Calm down... think about this...

-LIMITED TIME ONLY! 100% CHANCE OF RARE ITEM-

Reigen taps “buy” and there is a cash register sound effect.

As the scene zooms out, the sound effect rings several more times. (ie, he makes a bunch more in-app purchases)

Mob: Master’s been working really hard recently. He didn’t even take a lunch break today.

Serizawa: Did something happen?

GODDAMMMMIT I maxed out my funds on in-app purchases. Have to take on more jobs to make up for it.

--For the first time in his life, Reigen Arataka realized the terrifying allure of escapism.--

I’m switching back to my flip phone.

By Tamadango

This is one of my absolute favorite comics. It’s got everything I love about ALL of the characters.

- The spirits and such team just hanging out around the office, not doing any work, just casually sharing something they all enjoy.

- Ekubo having to be THE BEST... Canonically he refers to himself as Ore-sama or “本大人” which is more accurately translated as “Your Majesty, I....” He is clearly better than everyone else and he needs to show it at even trivial things like a phone game.

-Ekubo possessing his host to play for hours and hours just so he can one up his FRIENDS (two of the most powerful psychics in the world)...and justify them as “followers” with “much to learn”.

- Mob is the most powerful esper in the world and can flatten cities effortlessly, The three adults treat him as an equal, and Serizawa even treats him as a superior. Yet he’s still a kid that needs boundaries. His MOM bought him the phone as a reward for good grades and takes it away at night.

- Serizawa stopped being a shut in and his GPS app is allowing him the independence to be out and about for the first time in his life. His smartphone gives him the agency to start living on his own terms, just as Reigen’s flip phone allows him to stay focused on what’s important to him.

- Reigen for all his sweaty conman disasterness is a dilligent, organized, autodidact, that started his own successful business at 25. He doesn’t play games, he’s constantly working on his business, and he understands and is proud of how offbeat and uncommon that is....but he’s not beyond moments of insecurity driven impulsiveness. It’s incredibly consistantly depicted, him being a spoilsport about the game, buying the phone, but also throwing it when he doesn’t get the in game item he wants.

- Reigen isn’t someone that does a half assed job. He gives 110% even on jobs he’s not being paid....so it makes perfect sense that he can’t seem to stop himself from becoming overly dedicated to a phone game.

-But lastly, some culture/language meta. The characters and series is japanese, the artist that drew this comic is chinese, and it’s being translated into english by an american. The little girl at the phone store says “Mom, that basic guy has one of those basic phones.” what she really says, is “Mom look that guy has a flip phone, it’s so provincial/rural.”

China has this interesting divide between the urban and rural population. Where people living in cities view people out in the countryside as dumb rednecks that are decades behind in education, technology, social norms...etc. This is not true, but saying that someone is from the countryside is a massive insult. No one wants to be seen that way.

English lacks this divide between urban vs rural, and the only word that fits even a little is “basic.”

So even if this is a fanart for a japanese series, the context of that line can really only be understood in chinese, and there’s no word that really comes close to that idea in english. From a translation standpoint I find that really interesting, when media hops countries it loses, but also gains things.

God I love this comic so much

#ekubo #serizawa katsuya #shigeo kageyama #reigen arataka #mob psycho 100 #mp100

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

Text

REDACTED verse - The aloof Bombay & wounded Border Collie

Summary: They say you are what you are in the dark. So you prove just who you are when there's only you and Frederick in a dark house, with no one else around.

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Angst with a happy ending] & [Mild panic attack]

So, first thing first, a little backstory about this oneshot. I had already written out the first scene a week before Redacted announced the discontinuation of Frederick & Bright Eyes series. Although he mentioned that it’s fine to continue on writing headcanons about the two, I was hesitant to continue writing this fic.

But I’ve been missing them terribly so I sat my ass down and finally completed it! Yay! Fred & Bright Eyes had one of the most interesting dynamics in this fandom so I wanted to give it a go based on my headcanons of them.

There's a strange sort of energy hovering around Vincent and Sam lately.

It's not subtle either. Its anxiety, stress and uncertainty all roll together into a heavily dense fog that makes you itches under the skin.

This has been going on for days now.

Vincent constantly has thick textbooks with him whenever he comes over to Sam's place. They would exchange short pleasantries before Sam hurried off to his Werewolf beau (it's sort of funny the first time Sam returns home, and you spotted courses of wolf's hair stuck onto the hem of his clothes and jeans. You figured that this man's main hobby was tussling with Wolves, but when Sam would sneak back into his own fucking house like a teenager, it wasn't hard to put two-and-two together). Vincent would then make sure that you and Frederick are fed, settled in for the night before he completely ignores the two of you in favour of his school work.

As if the two of you are a pair to toddlers. You'd laugh if it didn't annoy you.

Fred, ever the gentle sweetheart, attempted to make small talks at first. Tentatively asking if he's stressed out over exams and if there's anything he could do to help - the result was expected. With pen in hand, notebooks and the two hundred and one pages depicting the foundations of magical healing, Vincent rather absentmindedly shooed him away.

Sam is arguably the worst. Ever since he stepped outside of the house during their crash course of the Empowered creatures in Dahlia to answer a phone call, he returns with lines on his forehead and shoulders tensed as hell.

Their impromptu lesson ended just like that when another Clan member had to babysit the two of you after Sam stormed out of the house.

You don't know whether they realise how taunt their strings have been, and you don't really care, honestly. Just curious; you're pretty confident that something big will happen soon.

At least there's something exciting to look forward to other than Sam's disapproving frowns and Fred's frustrated attempts at making you bear your heart and guts out.

And something big will happen soon. Apparently, there's something equivalent to a magical Olympics that occurs every year called the Elemental & Energetic Games, and this year, the local supernatural academy would be the one hosting it in Dahlia. Interesting.

Speaking of which, you could hear Vincent talking to his lover outside your bedroom through his phone. "Sam's on the way... yeah, he just texted me." A short pause. "Yeah, I can do that. Hey, hey, Lovely - listen to me. Everything's going to be alright. You've been practising non-stop for the Games. You deserve a special night for a change. So here's what we're going to do: I'll pick up some of that blueberry pie you love so much on the way back, we'll watch some movies after dinner and then have an early night so you'll feel better tomorrow. Sounds good? Nice. Oh wait - I think I can hear Sam outside. See you in a little bit. Love you too, Lovely."

You tune the outside world after that. It makes sense now why Vincent was stressed out; he's busy playing the good boyfriend.

With a tired sigh, you try your best to occupy your mind. It's three hours to midnight, but to Vampires, that's practically early morning, and you're already so bored. You don't want to step out of your little sanctuary if it means having to deal with Sam, Vincent and Fred tonight.

Or ever. Forever sounds good.

Not knowing what else to do, you pushed yourself out of bed and padded towards the window sill. The cool night air greets you as well as the trees and shadows that stretch on for miles. Once you and Fred were officially brought under Sam's care as his Progenies, you quickly realise that his house is located on the outskirts of Dahlia. Where the forests sprawl behind the abode and the city lights are just far enough not to pollute the night sky.

A perfect place to raise a pair of unplanned Newborn Vampires. You conclude that either Sam enjoys living by himself in a secluded property or that this house was given to him by Mr. Solaire.

Either way, you would've love to sneak out and explore the forest if it weren't for the magical wards that Sam had warned the two of you. The moment you or Fred steps out of the immediate area, Sam would know right away that one of them disobeyed his rules.

So despite the pleasant night air, there's a strum of anxiety and restlessness stirring within you. Is it because of Sam's recent behaviours or the upcoming Games? You can't tell, not when no one is bothered enough to tell you what's going on.

You take a deep breath and take your sweet time to exhale the air out. There's no use in working yourself up; not when you just need to get through this Newborn phase. It's better to think of the future.

And that bastard's mangled corpse at your feet.

"You should've listened to your friend, little mouse."

Ironically, the monster's voice is the only thing keeping you sane during this whole happy house facade that Sam and Frederick insist on playing. Late-night fantasies of ripping that smug's asshole to pieces are the only thing that keeps you going, sad as it is.

It's not revenge; it's justice. It's your atonement for hurting Frederick. What good would apologies serve when you can present that monster's head to him? You're not deluded enough to play the victim; you're the reason why the two of you are the way you are now, but you'll be damn if you admit that to Sam.

Sam's already blamed you for what happened to Fred. Even if he never says it. His lingering glances and furrowed brows are telling enough. There's no need to give him more ammunition against you.

You breathe in and out again; willing yourself to calm down. So you start to distract yourself by planning to gather enough money and resources to leave the Clan once Mr. Solaire deems that you're safe to be on your own and to others. His kind smile and knowing eyes should've made you uncomfortable, but all you can feel is genuine compassion and understanding coming from that ancient Vampire King.

So. Priorities: Passing the Newborn period, gather enough money, clothes and anything else that's important, thank Mr. Solaire for taking you into his Clan, and if it's not too presumptuous, ask him to continue to care for Fred.

A knock on the door startles you from your train of thoughts, but you keep your gaze on the dark forest laid before you.

You heard the door creak as it slowly swings open and then, "Bright Eyes? Is... Is everything ok?"

It's Fred. Of course, it would be Fred.

"Mm-hmm." You reply absentmindedly. You didn't even have to look at him to know that he doesn't believe your bullshit. And him being your Sire makes it impossible to lie to him, so you often gives out vague responses.

Most of these days, your interactions with him are curt, with doubt thrown into the mix. Fred is hesitant to press you when you brush away his questions, and in return, you hide as often as possible so you wouldn't step on any emotional landmines in this house.

"Are you sure? Because I can kind of sense that you're upset..." Fred said after a brief moment of hesitation. Ah, it's going to be one of those nights.

The bond between a Sire and his Progeny once again proves to be a fucking nuisance. Not only could you not lie to Fred, but he could also sense phantom emotions coming from you. So much for privacy.

"It's fine, Fred. I was just thinking." There. Not a lie but not the total truth either.

"O-Oh." From the doorway, Fred bit his lower lip. Why is it getting harder and harder to approach Bright Eyes nowadays? He hates this distance between them. He hates how they rarely left their room.

He hates how it feels like he's losing his friend as the days go by.

"Do you, uh, maybe want to play a game or something? Vincent hooked up a Playstation 5 before he left. I think he also left some video games - "

"I'm not in the mood to play tonight, Fred. Maybe tomorrow."

Fred sighs at the clear dismissal. It honestly hurt; Bright Eyes constant rebuff is getting sharper and sharper. Without another word, Fred left Bright Eyes to their thoughts.

As usual, nothing is absolved tonight.

It's a boring rainy Wednesday night. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the shutters promises an incoming storm when you hear the sound of rumbling thunders approaching the city from a distance.

Tonight, Vincent is too busy at D.A.M.N to babysit you and Fred. Sam already left the house an hour after the sun had set with his usual instructions not to go beyond the wards and that a Clan member would be coming over to supervise them.

Why does this feel like you and Fred are the unwanted children from a divorced couple? Oh well, all the more reason to leave the clan ASAP.

You plan to brood in your room as usual after draining your share of the blood bags in the fridge. However, the moment you take three steps out of the kitchen, lightning flashes across the sky.

The power trip, hurtling the entire house into total darkness.

"The circuit breaker," You murmur, inhumane eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness as you look around the area in 4K HD. "Did Sam ever mentioned where it was?" You tried to recall the house's layout from Sam's words alone, but you tend to tune out his voice whenever he speaks more than twenty minutes. So it looks like you better start from the basement.

Just when you're about to head downstairs, a whimper froze you. You tilt your head towards one of the bedrooms.

The sound is coming from Fred's.

You stood your ground for only a few seconds of hesitation before you quietly approached his bedroom and slowly opened the door as to not startle him — concern creeping into your heart.

Just like the rest of the house, Fred's bedroom is completely dark. Lightning flashed once more to illuminate Fred's huddled figure on the floor near the window. He's breathing very hard and rapidly with his head in between his knees.

Your heart twisted into a knot at the sight of a frightened Fred, and you couldn't help but wonder if this is how he looked like when that monster hurt him.

You forcefully put that thought away. You're horrible with words, but there's one way you can still comfort him.

Fred's breath hitches when your back lean against his. "B-Bright Eyes?" He calls out with a choked sob, head slightly raised in surprise.

When you said nothing, Fred let out a ragged sigh. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me."

You blink and turn your head to give him a side-eye. Say what?

"Don't give me that l-look." Fred snaps after a sniffle. "You could hardly look at my face lately, and you only leave your bedroom whenever you have to eat. If it weren't for that, you'd happily pretend that Sam and I don't even exist."

"That's because whenever I'm around, you keep wanting to talk about Wonderworld, and Sam keeps shooting me looks as if I'm a shitstain underneath his fucking boots." You shoot back reflexively.

Much to the surprise of absolutely no one, your words upset Fred even further. "You can't talk about Sam like that! He's been nothing but kind to us. To you and you just - "

"He blames me for what happened to you!" Fred can't be this oblivious, can he?

Behind you, Fred went stiff.

"You're his Progeny, and I'm the deadweight that he's stuck with because you Turned me. He knows it, Vincent knows it. Fuck it, everyone in the Clan knows it! So why should I give a damn when I'm unwanted? And that's alright! That's totally alright! You want to know why that's alright, Freddy?" Lightning split the night sky. A rather powerful thunder shakes the house, but at this moment, nothing exists except for you, Fred and the tension that has been brewing between the two of you the moment your humanities were forfeit.

"I'm not planning to stay here any longer than I have to! The moment Mr. Solaire give us the green light, I'm out of Dahlia! Buh-bye! You and Sam can do whatever the fuck you want, but I don't want to stay in this city any longer! I don't have anything left here!"

Silence enveloped the bedroom. What are you even doing here? Why did you even think you could comfort Fred when all you've been doing is hurting him. Even now! This was a mistake. You should've -

"I was right. I'm losing you too..."

"Uh, what?"

Fred tucks his head in between legs tighter as if he's trying to hide from the world. "I think I always knew that you were going to leave me when you started to pull away from everyone. That's why I wanted us to talk about that Halloween night so badly." His voice is ragged, tears stream down his face. "Y-You said that you don't have anything left in Dahlia, but... you're all that I have left and if you leave... I..." Fred sighed and quietly continued, "I thought I was your friend. I thought I meant something to you."

"I've hurt you." You reply, just as quietly. "I've been hurting you since Wonderworld, and even tonight, I'm hurting you. I didn't listen to you that night, and because of it, we're here. You lost your family, friends and future and for that I'm... I'm so sorry, Fred. You didn't deserve anything that happened to you."

"Thank you, Bright Eyes. I-I needed to hear that." Fred reply. When he reaches for your hand, you squeeze it back. "What happened was... fucked up, but none of us knew about that Vampire. Or that Vampires actually exist. So it's stupid of me to blame you for our d-deaths."

"But I didn't listen - "

"Yes, you didn't listen but will you listen to what I have to say now, Bright Eyes? Please? I want us to move on from this together. I want us to be better."

Perhaps it's how raw and near begging Fred sounds that both of your walls are down tonight. Perhaps, tonight, you finally realise that it's you that doesn't like confrontations and that despite Fred's gentle and reserved nature, he has no problem mending the wounds between the two of you with force if he has to. Huh, who could've thought?

The two of you talk for hours in the darkness. It feels so awkward to bear your heart to Fred after everything, but to your immense surprise and relief, he listens to you patiently, and once you're done, he let you into his heart. All the fears, insecurities, regrets, shame and horror are laid between you and together, you address them one by one until the storm lets up.

And when the silver light of the moon peeking through heavy clouds, you found yourself snuggling with Fred on his bed. Your head tucks into the crook of his neck while Fred's arm is around you. It's strange how lighter your heart is now.

"Have you stop crying already?" You ask, wondering if you'd need to run to the kitchen to make a simple bag of ice for Fred's red, puffy eyes before they swelled.

Fred snort. He sniffles and squeezes your body in assurance. Being slightly taller than you, it feels sort of nice to be held like this. Despite their heartfelt conversation and confessions, the trauma they both carry is still fresh, but now, it doesn't feel like an overwhelming miasma threatening to drown you in guilt and sorrow. "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright now. It feels good to finally cry after... after everything."

"Can't relate." You bluntly interject. "I usually get pissed off after a crying session."

"I can actually believe that." Fred giggles. "I'm beginning to understand you a lot better, Bright Eyes. Thank you for listening; I know that words are hard for you, so I'm very grateful that you want to work things out as much as I do."

"Mn."

Outside, the rain has become a gentle drizzle, and the stars ushered a bright full moon. It's too lovely of a night to brood; you might as well take a nap with Fred.

"Bright Eyes?" Fred suddenly speaks up, bringing you out of your sleepy haze.

"Mn?"

"Do you... I mean... are you still planning to leave Dahlia?" His voice returns to its timid and hesitant state.

"Well... yeah. After our - urgh - mushy talk, I realise it's all the more reason I need to do it. You're the only thing I have left in this city after all."

"You want to leave me despite just saying that all you have is me? Uh, I don't... don't get it. Can you please explain it to me, Bright Eyes?"

You hold back a groan. It looks like Fred has discovered the magic of 'please' and your weakness to it. "I'm planning to kill the Vampire who killed us and use his skull as my apology gift to you."

Unlike you, Fred groans in disbelieve. You yelp when he manoeuvres you so your body can lie on top of his and trap you in his arms. "No... Bright Eyes, no... no hunting that asshole, OK? You don't need to give me a skull; just stay here with me. Skulls are gross anyway." He whines like a needy toddler, which, surprisingly, makes you feel fond instead of irritated.

So you roll your eyes and press your face into Fred's chest. Perhaps you can try to convince Fred to leave with you in the future, but for now, nothing matters but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the faint scent of wet grass outside.

They're going to be alright.

#redacted asmr #fanfic #second pov #they/them pronouns #bright eyes (listener)#frederick #vincent solaire #sam collins #will is mentioned

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 3 years

Text

Demon Alya AU: Lila the Possessor

Marinette could feel the blood draining from her face. She'd expected to see almost anything when she'd decided to follow Lila, from her weaving her next lie to a clandestine meeting with Hawkmoth himself. The girl casually talking to a burning portal in midair was so far outside expectations that Marinette was having trouble reorienting herself. "You would not believe the level of goody-goody nonsense I have to put up with over here. It frankly makes me want to puke. Fortunately most of them are as gullible as they come, so I'll eventually be able to collect their souls no problem. It'll make a nice power boost for myself while I'm tracking down Hawkmoth to claim both his soul and his Miraculous. Make sure to keep up the ritual sacrifices and everything going strong, because some of my bosses are coming later this week and we want to impress them. I'll stop by later after I've checked in with 'mommy dearest'. Ta-ta." Marinette realized she needed to hide just a second too late. "Well, well," Lila grinned just a little too wide for Marinette's comfort level. "Look who just saw more than they were supposed to." "You-you..." "Yes, me, me. What of it?" "I-You-Ladybug and Chat Noir will stop you!" Marinette finally got out. To her astonishment, Lila actually laughed at that. "Those two imbeciles don't even know I exist, and it wouldn't matter if they did." She stepped up and leaned so far into Marinette's personal space that the girl had to take a step back. "I'm inviolate. The daughter of an Italian diplomat. Those two nitwits would never start an international incident. They're too noble for that." "I... I doubt you're really the diplomat's daughter," Marinette said with a confidence she didn't feel. She should have hidden. Or transformed. Being transformed right now would be really nice, but she didn't dare do it in front of Lila unless there was no other option. "Aren't you clever?" Lila simpered. "I'm not Ambassador Rossi's daughter... but I am wearing her." "Um... what...?" Marinette squeaked. "You see, there was this little Italian girl crying in the park one day a few months ago, moaning about how hard it was to make friends. How her mother kept moving and she kept having to start over from scratch and boo-hoo all the kids at her school wouldn't be her friends. And then you know what happened?" "W-what?" "She foolishly said she'd sell her soul if she could only make friends easier. I mean, what was I supposed to do with an opening like that? So I told her I could help her get friends if she wanted. She was so stupidly happy that she said she'd do anything right then and there." "W-what did you do?" "What did I do? I plunged my hand into her chest and ripped her soul out right then and there! The look on her face was priceless! 'Oh, don't worry,' I told her. 'I'll be sure you have plenty of "friends" to fawn all over you or at least me.' and then I possessed her body!" "What d-did you do with h-her then?" "Oh, I keep her around. Let her watch how well I'm fulfilling my end of our bargain. She's so ungrateful, though, always moaning about how I should stop lying and manipulating people because that's 'not what friends do'. It's so pathetic it's hilarious!" "Ladybug and Chat Noir will stop you," Marinette tried to rally herself. "I'll help them." Lila laughed like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. "Oh, I hope you try! Wouldn't that be a sight! Poor Marinette has a psychotic break from stress and accuses a classmate of being a demon! No one would believe you! They'll throw you in the nuthouse and I'll just take all your classmates souls anyway. Maybe I'll have them be human sacrifices too..." "Don't you dare!" Marinette snarled. She didn't care if Lila was really a demon from Hell, no one threatened her friends! "Temper, temper..." Lila sneered. "But you know, maybe you could get someone to believe you. Which would mean that 'Lila' has outlived her usefulness. I'd have to abandon her, maybe get my cult to carve her up to throw off suspicion, and find a new gullible sap to

inhabit." Lila's expression turned extremely dark and taunting. "As a matter of fact, I've had my eye on dear sweet Adrien for a while." "No..." "Yes...! Such a perfect host. Rich... famous... connected... An overprotective father who neglects him constantly, leaving a son starved for affection and attention. I could probably get him to sell his soul just by promising to get his father to pay attention to him. And you know... If you helped me, I could be persuaded to ensure 'Adrien' would be your boyfriend afterwards..." "Never!" Lila actually seemed a bit surprised by how firm her denial was. "Well, suit yourself. It's not like you can do anything to me anyway. Even if you killed this body, I'd just find a new one and then you'd never see me coming. See you around, Marinette." Marinette managed to wait three minutes after Lila turned the corner before allowing her legs to give out from under her. "Tikki..." "She's gone," Tikki said, looking uncharacteristically solemn. "Now that I know what she is, I can sense her presence easily." "How... how do we deal with something like that?" "Oh, Marinette," Tikki said gently, "what forces do you think the Miraculous were created to combat in the first place? The day we can't handle one little upstart demon is the day we retire." "Oh god, that poor girl... Lila..." "There are ways to get her soul back to her body, even if it's been taken to Hell," Tikki said. "They're some of the few rituals the Order of Guardians allowed us kwami to learn." "Okay... okay... we'll still need to get... er... 'Lila' out of... um... Lila's... body... geez that sounds weird to say..." "There are ways to do that too. Your cleansing powers could manage it, but for the best results..." "You'll need the cleansing powers of Destruction." Marinette and Tikki both looked to see Plagg, looking so thunderously irate that Marinette had to double-check that he wasn't actively using Cataclysm. "To think," Plagg said with the care and deliberation of someone who knew if they exerted any less self control they would lose any semblance of control over their temper, "that there was a possessor demon so brazen as to be on the same continent - the same city - as my kitten. And I managed to miss it for this long... I'm losing my touch. Well, now that I know she exists, there's nowhere for her to hide. I'll be teaching my kitten the more advanced uses of his powers immediately. Clearly I've been lax in his training. Well, no more. It's time to remind those spirits who would steal and inhabit the bodies of others exactly why those who wear the Ring of the Black Cat are the most feared exorcists in history." -----

Chat Noir eventually learns the tricks and when he and Ladybug face off against 'Lila', he shocks 'Lila' when he proves intent on Cataclysming her directly, but she feels confident that would only dust her 'meat suit'. She has just enough time to scream in terror when it proves to do the opposite, dusting the possessing spirit and leaving the body intact.

Ladybug does the ritual to return the real Lila's soul to her body and the girl has to spend a month in therapy before she can go out in public from the trauma.

The class welcomes her with open arms, and a hug (and secret blessing) from Rose does more good for her than the month of therapy.

The demon 'Lila's' cult seems to have vanished off the face of the earth and when asked about them, Alya and Juleka just kind of whistle innocently.

The real Lila goes on to become friends with everyone in class and eventually this traumatic chapter in her life becomes almost like a bad dream.

----- Oh, hey, you can have your Lila hate sink and your Lila redemption!

----

Nice!

#submission #demon alya au

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spookypalace · 4 years

Text

something borrowed - chapter one

After one drink too many at her 30th-birthday celebration, Jo unexpectedly falls into bed with her longtime crush and best friend, Alex -- who happens to be engaged to her best friend, Izzie. Ramifications of the liaison threaten to destroy the women's lifelong friendship, while Jackson, Jo's confidant, harbors a potentially explosive secret of his own.

—

Or the one where everyone is a little messy but you still root for them anyway.

June 2010

“Oh! Wow, I had no idea! This is amazing.” The small brunette whispers to herself as she paces the dark littered sidewalk of ninth street in the East Village, the wind briskly wafting through her freshly curled hair as her high-heeled clad feet clicked against the gravel. “No, that sounds so obvious,” She continues to mumble to herself, using a manicured finger to flick away the bang which had stuck to the lip-gloss which painted her plump pink lips. With a deep sigh, she threw her hands back to her sides, shaking them furiously as she felt the familiar clammy feeling begin to settle in her palms due to her nervousness.

As her entire body began to heat up, she was thankful that it was the little black dress that had caught her eye earlier that evening whilst she was examining her wardrobe in search of something to wear. It wasn’t a dress she had chosen for herself; short little pieces of clothing had never been her thing—her style was usually casual, ripped jeans and relaxed t-shirts. But her best friend, Izzie Stevens, had picked it out specifically for her during a shopping trip back when they were college freshman. It was Izzie’s style; figure hugging, clinging to every curve and a deep square neckline which showed off her perky assets.

She didn’t believe she had any of that, never had. Her shoulders were a little wider than her hips, her legs much shorter, barely standing at five foot four and her chest substantially lacked what Izzie’s had. With luscious blonde hair which flowed down her back, blinding white teeth and skin smoother than butter, Izzie really was perfect. Izzie was always the lucky one, always had been—since they were in fifth grade. Her skin tanned more quickly, her hair feathered more easily, and she didn't need braces. Her cartwheels were superior, as were her front handsprings (she couldn't do a handspring at all). She had double-pierced ears and the trendiest clothing from her rich and caring parents.

But at least Jo would always be a few months younger than Izzie, six months, and four days to be exact. Izzie, as obsessed with clear and smooth skin as she was, constantly worried about growing old and the aging effects that was brought with old age. Izzie’s age was the one thing that Jo didn’t quite mind never catching up to.

“Oh my god!” Jo plasters a fake wide grin on her face and throws her hands into the air in mock surprise, white teeth illuminating the small corner of the street she continued to pace up and down. She brings her dainty hands to her chest and widens her eyes as not to blink, willing herself not to blink in an effort to fake cry. Something which she was usually very skilled at. But not tonight it seemed.

With a groan, Jo gives up, “I suck!” She shouts into the empty street before sitting down onto the concrete steps which lead up to the apartment building, she was currently having a small breakdown outside of. Huffing, she removes the black heel from her right foot, resting for a moment in hopes she’ll finally calm down.

The feeling Jo currently had reminded her of New Year's Eve when the countdown is coming and she’s not quite sure whether to grab my camera or just live in the moment. New Year’s Eve never goes how you plan. Then you’re left feeling enormously let down and think to yourself that the night would have been more fun if it didn't mean quite so much, if you weren't forced to analyse where you’ve been and where you’re going.

Like New Year's Eve, tonight is an ending and a beginning. She didn't like endings and beginnings. She would always prefer to churn about in the middle. The worst thing about this particular end (of her youth) and beginning (of middle age) is that for the first time in her life, Jo realises that she has no idea where she’s going. Her wants are simple: a job that she enjoys and a guy whom she loves. And on the eve of her thirtieth birthday, Jo had come to the realisation that she wasn’t anywhere near getting what she wanted.

First, she’s an attorney at a large New York firm. By definition this means that she’s miserable. Being a lawyer just isn't what she thought it was cracked up to be—it's nothing like L.A. Law, the show that caused applications to law schools to skyrocket in the early nineties. She works excruciating hours for a mean-spirited, anal-retentive partner, doing mostly tedious tasks, and that sort of hatred for what you do for a living begins to chip away at you. So, Jo had memorised the mantra of the law-firm associate: I hate my job and will quit soon. Just as soon as I pay off my loans. Just as soon as I make next year's bonus. Just as soon as I think of something else to do that will pay the rent. Or find someone who will pay it for me.

Which brings Jo to her second point: she feels desperately alone in a city of millions.

Whilst visually she knows for a fact she’s not alone, because if she were then she wouldn’t currently be stressing out about how to fake shock to all of her friends once she enters the club in which her ‘surprise’ birthday party is being hosted in five minutes. She had friends to summer within the Hamptons, friends to meet on a Thursday night after work for a drink or two or three, friends to gossip with and rant to. And she had Izzie, her best friend from home, who is all of the above.

For a while, friends were all she needed—when you’re in your twenties, settling down with the man of your dreams can wait. There’s still so much living to do when you’re twenty-three and then twenty-seven, but by the time you’re twenty-nine … the cold empty side of your double bed begins to get a little old.

“Right.” Jackson Avery’s voice booms from the now open door which leads to his apartment, shaking Jo from her thoughts of loneliness, “I’m ready, you good?” He asks with a smirk when he notices her perched on his steps, face bored and disinterested.

Big doe eyes, decorated with mascara and dark eyeshadow, glance up at him as her lips turn into a pout involuntarily. “I don’t wanna’ go,” she knows he thinks she sounds like a toddler, she can tell by the way he chuckles and continues to look down at her with raised eyebrows, “I don’t want to be thirty.”

Jackson jogs down the few steps, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket as he does so, until he’s standing directly in front of the small woman. “Come on,” he extends a handout to her, hoping she’ll take it without much of a fight. Jo only pushes her bottom lip out further as she places her foot back into the uncomfortable heel and places her hand into his, groaning as Jackson pulls her up with force. “If it makes you feel any better then honestly, you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

Jo scoffs, letting him lead her towards the club only two streets away from his place, “right.”

She had met Jackson in college, during orientation their freshman year. Whilst they weren’t fast friends, both of them were rather reserved. After a while they began to grow closer; during study sessions and group projects—they always seemed to be on the same page. It wasn’t until they finished college and realised that they were only living a few blocks from one another that they really started to spend time outside of class together, Jackson was always available for a morning coffee or an afternoon stroll during a stressful day.

Izzie had always been adamant that Jackson was crushing hard on Jo, but she never saw it. When it came to men, Izzie had a one-track mind—according to the blonde, no male and female could ever just be friends. She believed this so strongly that she took it upon herself to try and set the pair up during every night out at the bar or weekend lunch. Something which got old and obnoxious on Izzie’s part fast. Due to this, Jo had chosen to keep her friendships with the two fairly separate. Except for the times it was unavoidable, like birthdays and engagement parties and whatnot. Like tonight.

They arrive at the club far too quickly for Jo’s liking, she comes to a stand still once they’re outside, dragging Jackson back by the clasp of their hands as she firmly stays put. He sighs, his eyes subtly giving her the once over now Jo’s directly stood in the bright lights of the nightclub’s neon sign. Jo doesn’t notice, pays no mind to the man in front of her as she thinks about what’s on the other side of that door.

“What’s up?” He asks, frowning with concern, “you love an excuse to get drunk—your thirtieth birthday is as good an excuse as any,”

Jo takes a deep breath, “I told you, I’m getting old.”

“Keep going with that and I’m going to get offended,” he steps closer to her with a smirk, eyes gazing down at hers, “you remember I turned thirty, like, ten months ago, right?”

At Jackson’s comment, a sincere smile finally spreads across Jo’s glossy lips, “barely, I woke up passed out in your bed with a pink wig on and roller skates hanging off my feet.” Jackson’s smirk turns into full-fledged laughter as he recalls the memory.

“If we’re lucky then maybe tonight will end similar.”

Jo’s eyes glimmer as she teases, “no way, I’m thirty tomorrow—it’s socially unacceptable for me to wake up in some random guys bed.”

Jacksons face turns into a mock frown, “random?” As they both continue to laugh with one another, Jo shoves a dainty hand into his chest and walks past him with a bump to his shoulder. Her heels click towards the large black door with the shiny brass handle, pulling it open as she throws an eye roll at him and finally gets over her nerves and steps into the room her friends had piled into to celebrate her birth.

She wasn’t alone, she knows that—she felt that when she stood with Jackson, laughing and smiling so effortlessly.

But she was lonely.

One hour later, once everyone has gotten over how atrociously Jo’s fake shock was, the party is in full swing. People were dancing and laughing and singing along to the sound of Jo and Izzie’s nineties playlist as it blared through the speakers.

She never enjoyed being the centre of attention, which is why she specifically asked Izzie months ago not to throw her any kind of party—before Jackson informed Jo that actually, Izzie had ignored her completely, Jo’s plan was to enjoy a chilled night at their favourite bar. Just Jo, Jackson, Stephanie, Izzie and Alex.

Alex. The one saving grace of this party—his face was the first she spotted when she walked through the club doors, the first voice she heard and the first person who brought a smile onto her face. He’d sent her a wink, one which reminded her of way back when they were barely twenty, and it sent butterflies swirling in her stomach. She won’t lie and say she wasn’t disappointed when Izzie ran through the crowd of people, arms swinging and lips screaming, to engulf Jo into a tight hug, spinning the shorter woman around, and cutting through the moment.

Jo’s current personal situation seems all the more dismal as she sat with her oldest and bestest friend in the corner booth of the club, the blonde had a glamorous PR job and was now freshly engaged. After all this time, Izzie is still the lucky one. Jo watches her, telling a story to the group which had gathered into the booth, including her fiancé.

Alex and Izzie were an exquisite couple, lean and tall with ridiculous good look and great jobs. They are among New York's beautiful people. The well-groomed couple registering for fine china and crystal on the sixth floor at Bloomingdale's. You hate their smugness but can't resist staring at them when you're on the same floor searching for a not-too-expensive gift for the umpteenth wedding you've been invited to without a date. You strain to glimpse her ring and are instantly sorry you did. She catches you staring and gives you a disdainful once-over. You wish you hadn't worn your tennis shoes to Bloomingdale's. She is probably thinking that the footwear may be part of your problem. You buy your Waterford vase and get the hell out of there.

“So, the lesson here is: if you ask for a Brazilian bikini wax, make sure you specify.” Izzie finishes her obscene tale, and the whole group laughs. Except for Alex, who shakes his head, as if to say, what a piece of work my fiancée is. “OK!” Izzie shouts obnoxiously, hands slapping together as she claps, “I’ll be right back, tequila shots for us all!”

Jo watches as she moves away from the group and towards the bar, leaning over the sticky surface to flirt with the young bartender, who she already told Jo she would ‘totally fuck’ if she was still single. As if Izzie would ever be single. She said once in high school, "I don't break up, I trade up." She kept her word on that, and she always did the dumping. Throughout our teenage years, college, and every day of our twenties, she has been attached to someone. Often, she has more than one guy hanging around, hoping.

It occurs to Jo that she could hook up with the bartender. She’s completely and totally unencumbered—hasn't even been on a date in nearly two months, it was an utter disaster and she decided she needed to give herself a break. But it doesn't seem like something one should do at age thirty. One-night stands are for girls in their twenties, and as of tomorrow morning she would no longer be in her twenties.

Plus, she thinks she’d had her fair share of one-night stands and after every single time she always found that she ended up thinking to herself that she was a relationship person. She preferred to know the person, nothing competed with the feeling of being familiar with someone’s body. Knowing exactly how to make them moan, their toes curl, and their skin tingle—that’s what she wanted. And there was the feeling of comfort, being so comfortable that there was no awkwardness and you never felt too shy to try something new. She missed that. She really really missed that.

She hadn’t experienced that since her last boyfriend, two years ago.

“You look great,” Alex whispers into her ear as the rest of the group continue to chatter, his hushed voice breaking Jo out of her sad sad thoughts.

Jo rolls her eyes, tilting her head so it falls against the side of his, “you have to say that I’m your fiancé’s best friend.” As comfortable as the position was, Jo lifts her head up quickly so she can turn to look Alex in the eyes—eyes which were wide, gazing down at her. His lips were parted, as if there was something he wanted to say but as he opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, Jo decides to relieve them of the thick tension and shakes her head with a small girlish girl.

“No, I don’t,” he finally adds, eyes continuing to watch her every movement. The way she picks up her full glass of vodka with dainty hands, the way her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks and her curls frame her face—small things he’s always noticed.

The tension is cut once Izzie returns with the shots, but Alex refuses his, so Izzie insists that Jo does the two. Before Jo knows it, the night starts to take on that blurry quality, when you cross over from being buzzed to drunk, losing track of time and the precise order of things. Apparently, Izzie had reached that point even sooner because she’s now dancing on the bar. Spinning and gyrating in a little red halter dress and three-inch heels.

"Stealing the show at your party," Stephanie, Jo’s closest friend from work, says under her breath. "She's shameless."

Jo giggles, not really caring—it was something she had come accustomed to. “She’s just a little drunk.” She’s not sure when she became the person who constantly made excused for Izzie’s behaviour, probably way back when they were fifteen … maybe twelve, who knows.

Everyone waits for her next move, which is to swivel her hips in perfect time to the music, bend over slowly, and then whip her body upright again, her long hair spilling every which way. Jo turns her head away from the woman up on the bar to glance at Alex, who in these moments can never quite decide whether to be amused or annoyed. To say that the man has patience is an understatement. Alex and Jo had that in common.

"Happy birthday, Jol!" Izzie yells. "Let's all raise a glass to Jo Wilson!" Which everyone does. Without taking their eyes off the blonde.

A minute later, Alex whisks her down from the bar, slings her over his shoulder, and deposits her on the floor next to Jo in one fluid motion. Clearly, this was something he had done before. "All right," he announces, glancing over to Jo apologetically. "I'm taking our little party-planner home."

Izzie plucks her drink off the bar and stamps her foot. "You're not the boss of me, Alex! Is he, Jo?" As she asserts her independence, she stumbles and sloshes her martini all over Alex's shoe. In usuall circumstances Jo would agree with Izzie—Alex wasn’t the boss of the woman. But at this very moment, as she continues to cause a scene with her temper tantrum, Jo had to agree with him.

Alex grimaces. "You're wasted, Iz. This isn't fun for anyone but you."

"Okay. Okay. I'll go... I'm feeling kind of sick anyway," she says, looking queasy.

"Are you going to be okay?" Jo asks, concern dripping from her voice despite the fact she felt incredibly drunk herself.

"I'll be fine. Don't you worry," she says, now playing the role of brave little sick girl.

Jo thanks her for the party, tells her that it was a total surprise—which is a lie, because she knew Izzie would capitalize on my thirtieth to buy a new outfit, throw a big bash, and invite as many of her friends as Jo’s own. Still, it was nice of her to have the party, and Jo’s finally glad that she did. Izzie’s the kind of friend who always makes things feel special. Izzie hugs Jo hard and tells her she'd do anything for her, and what would she do without Jo, her maid of honour, the sister she never had. She is gushing, as she always does when she drinks too much.

Alex cuts her off, "happy birthday, princess. We'll talk to you tomorrow." He gives Jo a kiss on the cheek as she grimaces at the old nickname he had coined all the way back when they were freshman in college. Before he exits, he turns back one last time, “you’ll be OK?”

"Thanks, Alex," Jo smiles. "I’ll be fine, good night."

Jo watches him usher Izzie outside, holding her elbow after she nearly trips on the curb. Oh, to have such a caretaker. To be able to drink with reckless abandon and know that there will be someone to get you home safely—so you didn’t end the night passed out on your male friend’s bed with absolutely no idea if anything happened between the pair of you.

Sometime later, Alex reappears in the bar—much to Jo’s drunken delight.

"Izzie lost her purse. She thinks she left it here.” He huffs with a roll of his eyes, “it's small, silver," he continues, using his hands to show them the size. "Have you seen it?""

“She lost her new Chanel bag?" Jo shakes her head and laughs, a little louder than she anticipated thanks to the alcohol coursing through her system, because it is just like Izzie to lose her things. Usually Jo would try her best to keep track of them for her, but as it was her birthday, she decided to go off duty—albeit unintentionally. Still, Jo helps Alex search for the purse, finally spotting it under a bar stool.

“Oh my god!” Jo hears Jackson’s mocking tone from behind her, “the Chanel purse, Jo!” She grabs the purse from the floor, accidentally knocking her head against the bar, before turning around to shove a laughing Jackson in the chest.

Alex grins, lifting a hand to ruffle her now slightly messy hair playfully, “what would I do without you?” He asks rhetorically, but there’s a glint in his eyes as he watches her glance up at the ceiling with a smug shrug, full of confidence.

As he turns to leave, Alex's friend Andrew, one of his groomsmen, convinces him to stay.

"C'mon, man. Hang out for a minute." With that, Alex calls Izzie at home and she slurs her consent, tells him to have fun without her. Although she is probably thinking that such a thing is not possible.

Gradually Jo’s friends peel away, Jackson included, saying their final happy birthdays. Alex and Jo outlast everyone, even Jackson. Something which wasn’t uncommon, it had become a regular occurrence since college. The pair sit at the bar making conversation with the young bartender from earlier who has an "Amy" tattoo and zero interest in the aging brunette lawyer.

It’s just after three when they decide that it's time to go. The night feels more like midsummer than spring, and the warm air infuses Jo with sudden hope: maybe this will be the summer she finds what she wants to do, where she’s going and all that crap.

Alex hails me a cab, but as it pulls over, he says, "how about one more bar?” His voice is hopeful and there’s that familiar crooked smirk on his lips, “one more drink?"

"Fine," Jo groans with a roll of her eyes, a smile on her face that tells Alex she’s joking—she’s more than happy to stop at one more bar with him. "Why not?" Jo grins as they both get into the can and he tells the cab driver to just drive, that he has to think about where to next.

They end up in Alphabet City at a bar on Seventh and Avenue B, aptly named 7B. It’s not an upbeat scene—7B is dingy and smoke-filled. They both like it anyway—it's not sleek and it's not a dive, it’s more up to their speed, more them.

Alex points to a booth, “sit down, this ones on me." Then he’s turning around, "what shall I get you, still partial to a vodka cranberry or beer?" He asks, that smirk still on his lips as he’s proud to think of how well he knows the woman in front of him.

Jo tells him she’ll have whatever he's having, and then she sits and waits for him in the dark red booth, patiently as the vodka and tequila and rum swills around her head. Jo watches as Alex says something to a girl who’s stood at the bar wearing army-green cargo pants and a tank top that says "Fallen Angel." Jo almost scoffs. Jo smiles and shakes her head, ignoring the familiar pang of jealousy running through her veins.

A moment later Alex slides in across from Jo in the old booth, pushing a beer her way. "Newcastle," he says before he smiles, crinkly lines appearing around his eyes. "You like?" Jo nods and smiles back at him.

From the corner of her eye, Jo see’s Fallen Angel turn on her bar stool and survey Alex, absorbing his chiselled features, wavy hair, full lips. Izzie complained once that Alex garners more stares and double takes than she does. Yet, unlike his female counterpart, Alex seems not to notice the attention. Fallen Angel now casts her eyes Jo’s way, likely wondering what Alex is doing with someone so average. Even if the little black dress did wonders for her usually non-existent cleavage, Jo didn’t see herself as anything special. She finds herself silently hoping that the girl thinks they're a couple. Tonight, nobody has to know that she is only a member of the wedding party.

“That’s the dress you wore to our celebratory drinks the night we took the bar.” Alex notices, tilting his beer in her direction.

“Oh wow,” Jo let’s out a breathy laugh, “you remember that?”

Alex smirks before letting out a sigh and shaking his head in almost disbelief, “Of course I do. You threw up all over my bathroom floor whilst wearing it.”

Jo’s jaw drops to the floor at the mention of the old memory, her eyes scanning over Alex as he sets his beer down and lets out a hearty laugh. “Noooo,” she drags the word out, cringing, “I was such a disaster.”

Alex scoffs, “no you were not, you were a college student.”

And for the third time that night, their eyes are glued to one another’s, both having so much to say but having no idea how to say it. But this is how it had always been with Alex, even when they could feel the tension between them—they were still nothing but completely comfortable with one another. Although, in this instance, her cheeks began to heat up.

Jo clears her throat, shaking her head, hoping the waft of her hair would cool down the heat that was rising at the back of her neck. “Do you remember that apartment,” she reminisces, “it barely fit the two of us.”

“How could I forget,” Alex mumbles with a grin, “I spent half the time I lived there sleeping on the floor ‘cause your place was always flooding.”

“I don’t know why you always let me crash in your bed.” Jo thinks out loud. He doesn’t answer, just shakes his head and takes another long swig of his beer, hoping the conversation will change. “You know, I had a huge thing for you back in college.” The words tumble from her lips, so fast he barely catches them but after a second he’s certain of what he’s heard. And she wants to say it’s the drink talking—the alcohol running through her system. But it’s not. And he knows its not. She can tell by the way he awkwardly bows his head, hiding his smile and shaking his head.

Eventually, the conversation changes and it’s as if she never made the slip up. But she did. But then Alex is talking about his job and their Hamptons share that begins in another week and a lot of things. It’s always been this way, easy and comfortable. But Izzie doesn’t come up and neither does their September wedding, not once.

After the pair finish their beers they move over to the jukebox, fill it with dollar bills, searching for good songs as they giggle and tease one another about their song choices. Jo pushes the code for "Thunder Road" twice because she knows it’s his favourite song.

"Yes, Springsteen's got to be at the top of the list. Ever seen him in concert?" Alex’s eyes glimmer, as they glance down to Jo—a tipsy smile gracing his lips.

"Nope," Jo answers with a laugh, “grew up homeless, remember. Concerts were a luxury I couldn’t afford." Jo almost tell him that Izzie offered to take her back in high school, well, Izzie would have been dragged along out of pity even though she much preferred groups like the Backstreet Boys. But Jo decides it’s best not to bring this up. Because then he’ll remember that it’s probably time to go home to Izzie and she doesn't want to be alone in her dwindling moments of twenty-somethingness.

Alex chuckles, never being one to skirt around Jo’s tough upbringing, it was actually one of the reasons they became such good friends. “You’ve had a zip code for over ten years now, I’m not letting that excuse slide anymore.”

Jo mocks shock, slapping a hand against the back of his upper arm, “not an excuse, jerk.”

Not too long later, it’s last call at 7B. They get a couple more beers and return to their booth.

Sometime later they are back in a cab once again, going north on First Avenue. "Two stops," Alex tells the cab driver, as they both live on opposite sides of Central Park. Alex is holding Izzie's Chanel purse, which looks small and out of place in his large hands. Jo glances over at the silver dial of his Rolex, a gift from Izzie. It is just shy of five o'clock. They sit almost silently for a stretch of ten or fifteen blocks, besides for a few comments mixed with tipsy laughter, both of them looking out of their respective side windows, until the cab hits a pothole and Jo finds herself lurched into the middle of the backseat, her bare leg grazing his.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Alex’s lips are on Jo’s. He’s kissing her. Or maybe she’s the one kissing him. But, somehow, no matter who was the one that initiated it, they’re kissing. And Jo’s mind has gone blank as she listens to the soft sound of their lips meeting again and again. Their tongues tangle, fighting for dominance which Alex eventually wins over and Jo can’t complain … because this is what she’s wanted for so so long.

Ever since freshman year.

At some point, Alex taps on the Plexiglas partition and tells the driver, between kisses, that it will just be one stop after all.

They arrive on the corner of seventy-third and third, near Jo’s apartment. Alex hands the driver a twenty and doesn’t bother to wait for change. They spill out of the taxi, kissing more on the sidewalk and then in front of Jose, Jo’s doorman. It makes her giggle and not because she’s still a little tipsy and high from the feeling of Alex’s lips on hers but because who would’ve thought—Hobo Jo has a doorman.

Their lips don’t part the whole way up in the elevator, their hands grabby and desperate as they try to fight the urge to rip off one another’s clothing. Alex has Jo pressed against the elevator wall, her hands moving to the back of his head.

Once their up, she fumbles with her key, turning it the wrong way in the lock as Alex keeps his arms around her waist, his soft lips nipping and biting against her neck and the side of her face. Finally, the door is open, and they’re no longer just kissing and touching. They’re in the middle of her studio, and he’s slowly pulling down the thin straps of her dress, kissing the soft skin where his hands graze—savouring the moment.

Just as Alex is about to pull down the tight dress the rest of the way. His hands stop their descent, placing them on either side of her head and forcing her to look at him. Her pink plump lips swollen, hair messy from him running his fingers through the long tendrils—she looked perfect, he’s never thought she looked more perfect than she did in this very moment.

“Are you drunk?" His voice is a whisper in the dark.

"No," Jo says. Because you always say no when you're drunk. And even though she is a little, she seems to have a lucid instant where she can consider this whole thing clearly. It strikes her that, in a sense, she can have both a momentous birthday night and the one thing she’s wanted for as long as she can remember.

One thought of Izzie is in her mind, but she’s being pushed to the back, overwhelmed by a force stronger than their friendship and her own conscience.

Within seconds, Alex’s lips are back on hers and he’s hurriedly removing her dress ad she makes quick work of snapping open the buttons of his crisp white shirt. Jo doesn’t even realise they’re moving backwards until he’s throwing her down onto the soft bed and Alex crawls on top of her. Jo’s eyes flutter closed, then open, then closed again as a swarm of pleasure sweeps over her as Alex’s hand continue to roam over her body.

“Me too.”

“Hmm?”

“I had a huge thing for you, too. Still do.”

And then, somehow, she’s having sex with her best friend's fiancé.

#jolex #jo wilson #alex karev

23 notes · View notes

vmficrecs · 4 years

Text

Every school has an obligatory psychotic jackass. He’s ours.

It has been one year since The Incident. In celebration of this beautiful, snarky, dynamic, passionate, beloved, smug, asshole, essential, etc., etc., character I have complied a lengthy (but by no means exhaustive) collection of some of my personal favorite fics focusing on Logan, or on his relationships, or fics that i just think do something neat in terms of Logan/his journey/his character. ❤️

Previously on vmficrecs:

dark_roast, “Fish Out of Water,” Mature, Post Season 1 AU

Logan opts to leave Neptune, and spend summer vacation with his grandparents.

Notes: This AU is essential reading if you love Logan. His characterization is nearly perfect, and the premise of the fic is endlessly engaging and smart.

wily_one24, “Sleep, Perchance...,” Mature, Pre-series AU

Logan thaws towards Veronica and sets out to save her.

Notes: I want to eat this fic. If you’ve never read it, read it-- it will linger endlessly inside of your brain in the best way possible. So many of the things Logan does or says in this fic exist in a very tangible and palpable manner for me, it’s that good. I think about it constantly.

ghostcat, “What We Have in Common,” Teen, Post Season 3 AU

Weevil Navarro, his incredibly poor choice of a research paper prepping locale and the close talking, finger waving jackass that interrupts and effectively hijacks his night. Set in 2010, three years after The Bitch is Back.

ghostcat, “A Trace of Meaning,” Teen, Pre-series

13 year-old Logan Echolls and 14 year-old Veronica Mars wait at the Kane Estate for their held-up sleepover hosts to show up.

theohara, “Rich Dirt,” Mature, Pre-series AU

And Logan wouldn’t let you have anything. He’d danced over to you and smirked in your face and twirled your plastic cup right out of your hand and cooed that just because your Daddy wasn’t sheriff anymore didn’t give you license to break the law, and he’d acted all shocked with his hand over his mouth and he’d laughed like breaking glass and nanced off with your drink.

anjou, “Into the Blue,” Mature, Post Season 1

It’s almost summer, and Logan is sinking into the blue.

flyingcarpet, “Mexicali Blues,” Mature, Post Season 3 AU

When he reaches the water he doesn’t hesitate, just keeps walking until he can duck his head under and start to swim away from shore, letting the salt and the waves wash away the residue that Neptune’s left on his skin.

absolutelyiris, “Truth for a Dream,” Teen, Future Fic (Pre-movie)

Fleet Week 2012. A reformed bad boy turned sailor and a former party girl turned career woman meet in a bar…

Notes: A LOGAN AND PARKER FRIENDSHIP FIC!!! pure fucking delight

absolutelyiris, “Come Around,” Mature, Future AU

A woman travels the world over in search of what she needs and returns home to find it.

Notes: I will talk about this fic until the day that I day, and then I will still talk about it. One of my absolute favorites. Pure gold Logan/Keith dynamic. I would 10/10 die for Razia. and, of course, the l/v is so damn good

TheLastGoodGolfish, “The Phenomenal Pixie, #1,” Teen, AU

Veronica is a masked avenger who stalks the streets of Neptune. Logan is the intrepid reporter who’s on the story.

Notes: PERFECT. PERFECT PERFECT PERFECT. also-- “That’s ridiculous. My favorite person is a sorority girl.” in my head, rent free, and i am forever indebted.

bryrosea, “Waste of Breath / A Quartz Contentment,” Mature, Post Season 2 to TDTL

Part one: Logan Echolls, the nine years, and the Navy. Part two: Veronica Mars, the nine years, and a new normal.

Notes: I am recommending specifically “Waste of Breath” for my boy, although Veronica’s piece is excellent as well.

always_winter, “Written Out,” Teen, Season 2 AU

Duncan has some residual guilt and Logan wants to be left out of the story.

always_winter, “White Combs and Sweet Honey,” Mature, Season 1

Even when Aaron is trying to be a good father, there’s still a lot he’s doing wrong.

Notes: This fic is so tender to me!!! A beautiful Logan and Aaron piece.

sadiekate, “Grand Canyon,” PG-13, Season 1 to Future AU

Three friends reminisce several years in the future, snarkily and pointlessly.

sinaddict, “Necrosis,” Explicit, Season 2 AU

Death in bits and pieces, denial as a religion… Or ‘normal’ in Neptune.

sowell, “Surviving the Wreck,” Explicit, Season 3 AU

Nothing’s ever simple with Veronica Mars. Weevil’s day at sea gets a little complicated.

Notes: THIS FUCKING FIC!!!! i love everything about it and especially at this moment in time, the part where logan gives weevil a blow job but weevil notes that somehow, in spite of this, logan retains the upper hand. this fic is world class and i am grateful everyday for it

theohara, “Broken Toys,” NC-17, Pre series AU

One glance across a street saves Lilly Kane’s life. It changes everything; it changes nothing.

Notes: This is the most heartbreaking Veronica Mars’ fanfic ever. I have such a deep love for it. It takes Lilly’s character and Logan/Veronica’s relationship to places I don’t ever think they would go and yet it works in this and it works so damn well. a truly devastating and beautiful au

fluffernutter8, “The Ninety Nine Percent,” Teen, Post Season 3 AU

Junior year of college, Logan gets some news that proves that no matter how hard he tries, life is just going to keep throwing him curve-balls. Post season 3, non movie canon compliant.

youcallitwinter, “gravity is gonna keep you tied down to this city,” Teen, Post Season 3 to TDTL

[your life in extended parenthesis] the lone neon nights and the ache of the ocean, and the fire that was starting to spark. From the love to the lightning and the lack of it.

Notes: please don't fall out of love with me, okay? don’t you dare give up on me. I DIE EVERY FUCKING TIME youcallitwinter is a force with all of her writings, but this one.......my god every single bit about it is fucking flawless

petpluto, “Of Scars & Consequences,” Teen, Post-series AU

Almost a decade in the future, Logan's still a little messed up. And Veronica's still a little closed off. They make it work.

julietbravo, “one brutal thing after another,” Teen, Pre-series to Season 1

These rich boys think they can get away with anything, don’t they.

querulousgawks, “there should be stars for great wars like ours,” Teen, AU

It’s gotta be some Alliance mind game, a holdover, the Operative’s last trick: Logan’s old secrets manifesting everywhere around them. Where are you, how are you doing this, he wants to scream, but he doesn’t know which ghost he’d be railing at.

SilverLining2k6, “Sometimes (You Can’t Make It On Your Own),” Teen, Season 1 AU

Silly Duncan stopped taking his meds. Now, one dead Fitzpatrick later, Logan and Veronica need to get him out of town. Too bad they hate each other.

SilverLining2k6, “Control,” Teen, Pre-series AU

Don’t you mess with a little girl’s dreams. ‘Cause she’s liable to grow up mean. Pre-series. Oneshot. - A twisted little tale of hate and revenge.

Notes: CONTROL!!!!! I love Control so much, it’s one of the first fics I ever read for the fandom and one of the finest. The Logan that exists in this is sooo good and his relationship with Veronica is deeply flawed & wonderful. M is in the process of writing a remix to Control (more in-depth emotion) and I for one am foaming at the fucking mouth every day about it.

nevertothethird, “Reunions,” Teen, Post Series AU

Sometimes it just takes a little longer to get things right. Two high school reunions and a birthday party should do the trick.

youcallitwinter, “you give love a bad name,” Teen, Season 2 AU

“Hey, did you guys know there was a sensitive poet-type hiding behind this hard exoskeleton of expensive alcohol and bitter cynicism?” In which Logan Echolls is, well, Logan Echolls.

scandalpants, “Something to Remember,” Mature, Post Series AU

Facing a separation, Logan and Veronica spend their last night together exchanging gifts.

Notes: I am always in a goddamn state about this fic. Logan jacking off in front of Veronica at her request? Yes, thank you please. thank you so much

leurocrystal, “Take Your Time,” Teen, Post Season 2

Keith doesn’t know how to look at or touch his daughter for the first time in his life.

petpluto, “We Are Nowhere, And It’s Now,” Mature, Series AU

“You know there is another way of looking at this, Logan. If you’d still been together, you might be dead too." Logan and Lilly both die on October 3rd. But for Veronica, it’s not like they’re gone. And she still works to solve their murders.

absolutelyiris, “Delay,” Teen, Post TTDL

Logan reflects on his first Christmas with Veronica after a ten year separation, as well as how his life has changed with her absence.

New to vmficrecs:

Christmas in Arkham Author: dark_roast Pairing: Logan Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort, A Really Good Hug Setting: Season 2 Spoilers: 2.09, “My Mother, the Fiend” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 10128 Status: Complete Summary: Sequel to Fish Out of Water. Logan spends christmas with his grandparents. Notes: This is, full stop, my favorite Veronica Mars fanfiction ever. I am so protective of this fic that part of me doesn’t even want to give it a formal place on the blog, which is ridiculous because I’m sure plenty of people have already read it and obviously it’s so good that I want people to read it but....this belongs to me, somehow, like I feel like it’s mine that’s how much I love it. ANYWAY possessiveness aside-- Every word, every sentence, every punctuation mark in this fic is perfect, devastating insight into Logan’s character. Absolutely beautiful and wonderful and every other good thing.

The Teeth by the Shoulder Author: ghostcat Pairing: Fab Four, Logan/Lilly, Veronica/Duncan Rating: Teen Genre: Friendship, Angst Setting: Pre-series Spoilers: 1.01, “Pilot” Chapters: 3 Word Count: 17273 Status: Complete Summary: Two couples, two friendships. The Fab Four in three Octobers. Notes: WE’VE NEVER FUCKING RECOMMENDED THE TEETH BY THE SHOULDER BEFORE?????? HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE OH MY GOD jesus this is one of the greatest fanfictions ever written. three pre-series explorations into the fab four friendship and it is impossibly good. i am especially in love with the logan/lilly in this fic (the first chapter!!!!) and as always special care is given to exploring the logan + veronica dynamic. the third chapter will break your fucking heart so bad in the best way

Seven Times Logan Echolls Went to Jail Author: sowell Pairing: Logan/Veronica, Veronica/Piz Rating: Teen Genre: Angst, Romance, Logan Echolls is a Little Shit Setting: (Post) Season 3 AU Spoilers: 3.12, “There’s Got to Be a Morning After Pill” and 3.16, “Un-American Graffiti” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 6701 Status: Complete Summary: Who thinks Logan behind bars is sexy? I do, I do! // Logan goes to jail and calls Veronica to bail him out. Again and again and again and again. Notes: WE HAVEN’T DONE THIS BEFORE EITHER???? oh my god!! I remember finding this one a few months before the movie came out and i would just lay in bed in the dark and re-read it endlessly. and then i left it alone for a few years and when i went back to it holy shit it undid me all over again. perfect logan and veronica relationship. p e r f e c t!!! i firmly believe this is exactly what shape their relationship would’ve taken if veronica hadn’t cut and run

Love is Just a Four-letter Word Author: bigboobedcanuck Pairing: Logan/Veronica, Keith, Weevil Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort Setting: Future AU Spoilers: 1.12, “Clash of the Tritons” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 1753 Status: Complete Summary: Set a few years down the road from high school. Logan hits rock bottom. Keith and Veronica help him back up. Notes: Lynn’s body turns up and it is fucking DEVASTATING. A short piece that’s told from Keith’s POV (anyone who knows me knows how much of a sucker I am for Keith + Logan interaction) and holy hell Logan is so good in it and I think about it all the fucking time

Serendipity Author: TheLastGoodGoldfish Pairing: Logan/Veronica, Veronica/Piz, Carrie, Gia, Stu Cobbler, Ensemble Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Detective-ing Setting: Post Season 3 Spoilers: 3.20, “The Bitch is Back” and The Movie Chapters: 4 (out of a planned 6, fingers crossed!!!) Word Count: 59763 Status: Complete Summary: During her sophomore year at Hearst, Veronica takes on your run-of-the-mill blackmail case: the clients hate her, the evidence is impossible to destroy, and her ex turns out to be a bit of a distraction, but Veronica is a sucker for a damsel-in-distress. Even if the damsel is an intoxicated, pissed off Carrie Bishop. Notes: I AM HIGH PITCHED SCREAMING. Transplanting the movie plot to this timeframe works tremendously and TLGG’s execution is fucking perfect. Carrie is a powerhouse in this fic and god, Logan is such a honey it in which is why it is being recc’d for him. Him practically letting Carrie move in with him and doing his damnedest to protect Carrie and Gia (much to Veronica’s chagrin) is so, so important to me and I love him so much.

The Phenomenal Pixie - Interlude #1 - “Bugs” Author: TheLastGoodGoldfish Pairing: Logan/Veronica, OC’s Genre: Humor, Fluff, Logan and Veronica Are Smarter Than You Setting: AU (Season 3) Spoilers: uhhh n/a Chapters: 1 Word Count: 5072 Status: Complete Summary: Dating a superhero poses a unique set of challenges. Notes: Tiny sequel to The Phenomenal Pixie which you absolutely must read first (and is recommended above) because it’s a fucking delight. Logan is incredible in this fic and I would die for him, like always. The part where Steve can sense Logan is thinking about punching him in the face-- a million chefs kisses.

The Medusa Jewel Author: TheLastGoodGoldfish Pairing: Logan/Veronica Genre: Established Relationship Bliss, Fluff Setting: MKAT Spoilers: MKAT Chapters: 1 Word Count: 5336 Status: Complete Summary: Logan and Veronica's new neighbor is a writer. Notes: is my TLGG obsession shining through? good because it fucking should be. The Logan/Veronica in this relationship is so sweet and perfect and is 100% my reality and i would like to bathe in this fic and live in it forever as is my right.

Drowning Together Author: bryrosea Pairing: Logan/Veronica Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort Setting: Season 3 Spoilers: 3.07, “Of Vice and Men” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 897 Status: Complete Summary: AU of the confrontation scene from 3x07: Of Vice and Men (Logan and Veronica both need a hug) Notes: Absolute wonderful insight and even some reconciliation into a canonical season three fight. Logan calming down while Veronica falls apart as they hug is so important to me.

Interrupt Us Author: bryrosea Pairing: Logan/Veronica Genre: Romance, Hijinks, They Want To Fuck So Bad Setting: Post TDTL Spoilers: through TDTL Chapters: 1 Word Count: 17223 Status: Complete Summary: Logan Echolls is home from deployment. Time to cue the sweeping movie montage, right? Notes: Logan and Veronica try to have sex everywhere and it is my life force. The car scene when they get pulled over and Logan instinctively hiding under Veronica’s desk....god i love everyone in this bar

Ready to Go Author: Amberina Pairing: Logan/Duncan; Veronica Genre: Friendship, Romance, Angst Setting: Post Season 1 Spoilers: not obvious but 1.22, “Leave it to Beaver” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 6346 Status: Complete Summary: "Let's leave. Let's go. What's left in Neptune for us anyway?" (AKA Duncan, Logan and Veronica have wacky adventures on the road! Also angst.) Notes: Logan getting hissy and storming off from the car while Duncan and Veronica just watch him and then calling a taxi once he’s out of their sight is PEAK logan. I love boyfriends, even if they’re angst-ing in this, and they big time are.

Nashville On My Mind Author: hjcallipygian Pairing: Logan, Veronica, Duncan Genre: Friendship, Hijinks Setting: Post Season 1 AU Spoilers: 1.22, “Leave it to Beaver” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 1659 Status: Complete Summary: Every year, they take a road trip together. This year, it's to Nashville, Tennessee. Notes: i just spent forty minutes trying to find this fic to the point where i was genuinely concerned i had hallucinated it. it’s so fucking good. a sequel/prequel of sorts to grand canyon by sadiekate (recc’d in the previously section). logan is a mess and by god do i love him

Six Times Logan Echolls Got Wet Author: bryrosea, CarolineShea, ghostcat, kmd0107, marshmallowtasha, SilverLining2k6 Pairing: Logan/Veronica Rating: Teen Genre: Romance, Friendship, Hijinks Setting: Everywhere Spoilers: All series to MKAT Chapters: 6 Word Count: 11568 Status: Complete Summary: aka: The Wet Henley ChroniclesSix stories in which we probably give Logan Echolls pneumonia, inspired by the movie's infamous wet henley. Set variously across the series and post-MKAT. Notes: each chapter is written by a different author, they’re all good but bryrosea’s chapter and silvery’s chapter are my favorites. set during the summer between season 1 & 2 and post season three respectively they do such a great job dealing with the fractious and tumultuous nature of Logan/Veronica’s relationship at the time and i love it so much

A Little Dysfunctionality Goes A Long Way Author: fluffernutter8 Pairing: Logan/Veronica Rating: Teen Genre: ANGST with a side of fucking ANGST, happy ending but jesus Setting: Post Season 3 AU Spoilers: 1.22, “Leave it to Beaver” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 2878 Status: Complete Summary: Despite their history, Logan and Veronica might be somewhere on the brink of normal. A few years post season 3. Notes: i just read this for the first time 07/13/20 at 9:08pm because when i asked shelby for her favorite logan fics she included this one. i am fucking dead now and-- there’s nothing else to say about it. i’m just fucking dead. for YEARS i have said that nobody with the username fluffernutter8 should be able to write shit this goddamn emotional and yet, time and time again, i find myself here fuckign wrecked and furious about it

these are just ghosts that broke my heart before i met you Author: theviolonist Pairing: Logan, Veronica, Carrie, Dick Rating: Teen Genre: Introspection, Angst, I Love Logan Setting: Pre Movie & Movie Spoilers: Movie Chapters: 1 Word Count: 1326 Status: Complete Summary: In the army they say, don't think of the target as a person, otherwise you won't have the guts to pull the trigger. Notes: fuck, you guys. this one is so beautiful. an exploration into logan’s grief and him trying to move on and it cuts like a damn knife because he can never really do it but fuck he wants to so bad and [lucas scott voice] that’s gotta mean something, right? truly so so wonderful

Fugue Author: vaeran Pairing: Logan/Veronica, Logan/Lilly, Dick Rating: Teen Genre: Angst, hopeful ending Setting: Post Season 1 Spoilers: 1.22, “Leave it to Beaver” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 4137 Status: Complete Summary: It's something he refuses to let go because it defines who he is and what he has become. Notes: deviates from the PCHer confrontation on the bridge, which means logan takes a little longer to come around to reconciliation with veronica. it’s perfect and i particularly love the logan/lilly in this, he’s hurt but still so impossibly and eternally in love with her

One Flew Over the Echolls Nest Author: Wynn Pairing: Logan/Veronica, Duncan Rating: Teen Genre: Angst, Friendship Setting: Post Season 1 AU Spoilers: 1.22, “Leave it to Beaver” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 1507 Status: Complete Summary: Open wide and see what's inside. A bridge and a bed and Veronica. Logan finds himself in a mental institution after the events of "Leave it to Beaver." Veronica, Duncan, and Logan's psychiatrist attempt to help. Notes: so sad and so good!!! the part where Logan’s psychiatrist asks him when the last time he was happy was fucking wrecks me everytime!!

Free at last Author: querulousgawks Pairing: Logan, Weevil, Aaron Rating: Teen Genre: Frenemies, They Are Boyfriends Setting: Season 2 Spoilers: 2.09, “My Mother, the Fiend” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 1242 Status: Complete Summary: Logan and Weevil and fire go a long way back. A flashback scene interrupts their Season 2 meeting in the Neptune Grand. Notes: I LOVE EVERY SINGLE THING ABOUT THIS SO GOD DAMN MUCH

The Right Shade of Red Author: ghostcat Pairing: Trina, Logan, Aaron Rating: Teen Genre: ANGST Setting: Pre-series Spoilers: 1.15, “Ruskie Business” Chapters: 1 Word Count: 883 Status: Complete Summary: Trina finds her jerky little brother hiding in her closet and does the unexpected thing. (Or, A time Logan trusted Trina) Notes: If you want 883 words to be able to make you feel like you’ve been hit by a truck this is the fic for you! I love the Echolls family dynamics so much, and this one is excellent.

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paulo-pup · 3 years

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Task 5: Family

Describe your character’s biological family. Do they know their family? Were they raised by them?

Paulo is the middle child of Valentino (Val) and Isabella Martinez. He has an older brother, Valentino Jr (Tino) and a younger brother, Rafael. Tino and his wife, Hannah, have quintuplet teenagers--Valentina, Gabe, Angel, Maya, and Carlos. Paulo has an infant son, Paulo Jr, often affectionately called PJ. It is a large family, only made larger with many aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents still living in the Dominican Republic. Unfortunately, Paulo has never physically met any of them, though the power of video chatting has allowed him to finally get introduced. Largely, he’s only ever known his immediate family. He was raised by both of his parents, who are extremely loving and supportive of all of their children.

What was your character’s relationship like with their parents? Their siblings?

Paulo has a great relationship with his parents. They supported him completely growing up, often going to PTA meetings to fight anyone who had a problem, such as Paulo playing on the boys teams. When Paulo came out as trans, they were a little confused at first but open to learning. It didn’t take long for them to become Pride Parents, going to every pride event that followed. Individually, he is close to both of them but in different ways.

Looking at father and son, you’d be surprised to learn they were even related. While Paulo is extroverted and talkative, his father is quiet and thoughtful. In that regard, one might think they don’t get along but it is quite the opposite. Growing up, Val was Paulo’s safe space whenever he needed to get away or something was too overwhelming. He always gave him the ability to relax, unwind, and never pressured him to talk about what he was going through. Sometimes, they would just spend hours fixing up an old car and not even saying a word. Whenever he needs a moment to think, he always knows he can go to his Dad.

Meanwhile, it is very obvious that Paulo is the son of Isabella. She is where he inherited his joyfulness and zest for life. Get the two of them in a room together and it will be a non-stop whirlwind of barely intelligible Spanglish. Growing up, Isabella was always the one that Paulo went to if he needed advice. They would butt heads sometimes, as Paulo was a “tomboy” and his mother wished that he would’ve been more feminine, having no other daughters. She was the one who expressed the most disappointment at losing her “only girl”. But after some education and heartfelt exchanges, she came around completely and is now a proud mother of three wonderful sons.

There is a ten year age difference between Tino and Paulo, and a four year age difference between Paulo and Rafael. This uniquely shaped both of their relationships. In Paulo’s eyes, Tino was the perfect man. He was who he wanted to be when he grew up. In that regard, he was always following him around and bothering him, which a teenage Tino absolutely despised. Paulo was the definition of an annoying little brother and Tino wanted nothing to do with him for a long time. It wasn’t until he got to college and started growing up a little that he came to understand that Paulo only wanted his love, and so he gave it more freely. He was there for Paulo throughout all of his transition and encouraged him to do the things he loved, such as taking a history minor. In their adulthood, Tino has been Paulo’s rock, helping him every step of the way, especially now that he’s a father. Honestly, Paulo has no idea where he would be without his brother.

Out of all the children, Rafael is most like his father, introverted and shy. In that regard, Paulo was the one dragging Rafael around everywhere, helping him make friends and come out of his shell. Being closer in age, the two were more likely to have brotherly fights and sometimes had to be broken up. In the end, Paulo would always apologize (as he was usually the one who started it) and they’d make up in a jiffy. In their adulthood, they maintain a nice relationship. Rafael has accepted himself as a less outspoken being than his family members and is fine if he only sees and talks to them once or twice a week. Paulo loves to keep up with his life and catch up the few times they do get to talk.

Found family can be just as important, if not more important than a biological family. Describe your character’s found family, and what their found family means to them.

One might think that because Paulo has a large, close-knit, healthy biological family, that he would not need a found family. Not so! Paulo cherishes many people in his life and considers those who he loves his family.

First, there is the friend group that has been with him since the beginning. Michael, Donald, Godfrey, Minnie, Daisy, and Clara--these were the people he grew up with and know everything about him. He would do absolutely anything for any of them and although sometimes they are apart, their relationships never diminish. Michael especially is his closest friend, closer to him than his brothers and his lovers, with an intensity that he doesn’t fully understand yet.

Ollie is another who recently joined their found family. They have been a lifesaver in helping take care of PJ, and he genuinely loves having them around. More than that, though, he can tell how desperately they want a family and he wants to be able to provide that. He is always inviting them over to family events and has accidentally introduced them as his cousin several times.

Overall, how did the idea of family affect your character.

Family is everything to Paulo. It has been such a necessity in his life and is largely the reason he seems so well-adjusted compared to many other Redwood Hollow residents. Paulo feels genuine hurt for those who don’t have a family and will offer his own for those willing to be open to it. He thinks its so important for everyone to have a system of love and support and thus tries to provide that wherever he can.

Thinking about the future, do they want to make a family of their own? What would that look like to them?

Well, he already has his own family. He has PJ. And he would be perfectly fine if it was just him and PJ for the rest of his life. But secretly, he does wish he had a romantic partner. Specifically, he wishes that PJ’s biological father, Finn, would come back and help raise his son. At the current moment, he does not want to have anymore kids but if he was in a committed, lifelong relationship, he would definitely consider having more.

Family Template (in order of appearance, left -> right, top -> bottom)

Valentino Martinez (FC: Danny Pino) - Val was born in the Dominican Republic into a small, but loving family. He met the love of his life, Isabella, when he helped her with her broken car on the side of the road. It wasn’t long before the two were married. They stayed in the Dominican Republic long enough for Isabella to finish her studies before she got a job opportunity in the United States. They packed up their things and took the first flight to a small town called Redwood Hollow.

Val was always the more introverted of the two, only compounded by the fact that he was not very confident in his English. He got a job at the local auto shop and spent his life working there, in between raising his family as the couple began to have children. He is extremely devoted to his family, as he often feels isolated as an immigrant and doesn’t have many friends. He’s tried to teach his sons everything he knows, which according to himself, isn’t a lot. Very recently, he’s retired from his mechanic job and now spends his time with his two favorite hobbies: anime and guitar.

Isabella Martinez (FC: Karen Olivo) - Isabella was born in the Dominican Republic into a very large and boisterous family. She always had a hard time standing out and would thus overcompensate in order to get attention. She met the love of her life, Val, when he helped fix her broken car on the side of the road. She married him in between her university studies of history, where her professor used some connections in the States to get her a job offer. They packed up their things and took the first flight to a small town called Redwood Hollow.

Isabella was always the more extroverted of the two, going out of her way to talk to people and make friends. She got a job at as an administrative clerk at the Hill Family Factory, where she got close to many of the other workers. She was constantly inviting people over, throwing parties, and showing off her lovely children to anyone who would listen. Her fiery personality is a double edged sword, as she is quick to anger and very stubborn. You would want to be on her good side but you really would not want to be on her bad side. She is the matriarch of the Martinez clan and makes sure that everyone stays close, no matter where their lives take them. Every Sunday she hosts a family dinner, though it is open to anyone. One day, she dreams of retiring from her job and opening a doggie grooming boutique. There has never been a point in her life where she hasn’t had a dog, though she prefers smaller breeds.

Valentino Martinez Jr (FC: Carlos Penagava) - Tino is a born and bred Redwood Hollow citizen. He grew up thinking he was cooler than everyone else and spent far too much time trying to prove it. He felt he needed to get out of the Redwood Hollow dump and live in the big city. He went to college in Chicago, where his small town bubble burst and he started to see just how hard people’s lives could really be. He switched majors and joined his college’s medical school, where he trained to be a nurse. It was while he was in college that he met his future wife, Hannah Cooper. After they got married and graduated, the two decided they wanted to have a family and it was Tino who suggested they move back to Redwood Hollow to do so.

They got a little more than they bargained for. Expecting to have one child, maybe two, they instead found themselves with quintuplets. It was a good thing they returned to Redwood Hollow, as they needed the help of the full Martinez family to raise these kids. Tino used this time to reconnect with his family and was truly grateful for their help. Now that his kids are teenagers, he’s a little less frazzled trying to juggle his family and career. Still, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rafael Martinez (FC: Carlos Valdes) - Rafael is a born and bred Redwood Hollow citizen. He grew up mostly keeping to himself, too shy to make more than a handful of friends. He was a bookworm through and through, and often could be found in the corner of his mother’s social gatherings, ignoring everyone else.

The people that he most connected to were children. He is naturally good with kids and they bring out a different side of him that not a lot of people get to see. This was a huge help when it came to watching his nieces and nephews. He went to college to get his bachelor’s in education and has gone back to get his master’s for teaching. He knows he could get a job without it but he wants to be the absolute best teacher he can be in order to help every child (also a bigger salary doesn’t hurt). Especially with the quintuplets growing up, he really only sees his family for Sunday dinners and he’s fine with that. The love never diminishes from any side.

Hannah Martinez-Cooper (FC: Yael Grobglas) - Hannah was born in Chicago, though moved around most of her life due to her parent’s work. Once it was time to go off on her own, she decided to revisit her roots and found a place in the windy city, where she went to beauty school. She met Tino, and the rest was history. At first, she was resistant to moving to her husband’s hometown, but she agreed it would be better to raise a child there than in the city. What she wasn’t expecting was five children at once. In the end, she was very glad to have her husband’s family there to help.

Hannah is, for lack of a better word, basic. She works as a hairdresser at the local salon and asks you how your kids are doing. She is the type of person who has wooden “Live, Laugh, Love” and “Bless this Mess” signs all over her house. She has a wine glass with “Wine O’ Clock” etched into it which she drinks out of every night. She shares minion memes on Facebook. Despite all of this, the Martinez family has claimed her as one of their own and love her very much.

Valentina Martinez (FC: Isabela Merced) - Valentina is the first born of the Martinez quintuplets. She works hard to be the perfect child--getting good grades, volunteering, extracurricular activities, and a goal of becoming valedictorian. Much like her father before her, she thinks she needs to get out of Redwood Hollow and make a name for herself. Doing what? Everything, of course.

Gabriel Martinez (FC: Brandon Arreaga) - Gabe is the second born of the Martinez quintuplets. He is the class clown of the siblings and has used it to his advantage, becoming a TikTok star. He’s always posting comedy videos and prank videos, especially of his other siblings. At any given time you can find him looking at his phone.

Angel Martinez (FC: Ariela Barer) - Angel is the third born of the Martinez quintuplets. In the last year, they came out as non-binary, empowered by their uncle Paulo. They are the president of the Redwood Hollow GSA and will take any opportunity to school you on issues of social justice. They are Extremely Online and spend their free time writing My Hero Academia fanfiction.

Maya Martinez (FC: Emily Tosta) - Maya is the fourth born of the Martinez quintuplets. Following in her Uncle Paulo’s footsteps, she is a hardcore jock. She has tried every sport under the sun, though her favorites are hockey, lacrosse, and field hockey. Unlike Paulo, she is fine to play on the girl’s teams, as she really likes girls.

Carlos Martinez (FC: Ricky Garcia) - Carlos is the fifth born of the Martinez quintuplets. As the youngest, Carlos has a hard time trying to stand out, especially with the eccentric personalities of his siblings. He tends to fade in the background, which makes excellent angst and muse for his budding music career. He’s taking guitar lessons from his grandfather.

Paulo Martinez Jr - PJ is the son of Paulo Martinez and Finn Fischer. As a one year old, he doesn’t have much history but he is developing quite the personality. He’s a bright and curious kid, always looking to explore and put anything he can in his mouth. While he can get fussy easily, he’s just as easy to calm down with a quick distraction. He’s very sociable, open to be held by anyone, but watch out because he will pull your hair. His favorite toy is a little dog plushie and his favorite game to play is “I throw my toy and you give it back to me”. He has yet to say his first word but he will certainly babble your ear off. He is the crown jewel of the Martinez family and is beloved by all. This will surely not lead to a big head with age.

#happiestplacetask #happiestplacetask5 #headcanon #no trigger warnings because the martinez family is wholesome lmao

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lore-of-the-silvereyes-rwby · 4 years

Text

RWBY lore & World Building Analysis

Atlas and Mantle Part 1

Timeline, Origins, and History

Timeline

We really don’t have a coherent timeline for the series but this is my best gamble for Atlas and Mantle in terms of events and the people born there(Please RT give us an establish timeline)

B.F.B./ Before the Fall of Beacon

F.B./ Fall of Beacon/ RWBY year one

A.F.B./ After the Fall of Beacon

?-200B.F.B. People settle in Solitas for the first time

200 B.F.B. Mantle Founded

199-91 B.F.B. Century of oppression, & Alliance with Mistral

90-80 B.F.B. The Great War

80-79? B.F.B. Nicolas Schnee Born?

45? B.F.B. Ironwood Born?

28-24 ? B.F.B Ironwood attends Atlas Academy

23? B.F.B. Winter Born?

23-1 ? B.F.B Ironwood ascends to General of Atlas Military & H.M.

17 B.F.B. Weiss Born

2 B.F.B. Winters Joins the Atlas Military

0 F.B. RWBY V(s) 1/2/3

1 A.F.B. V(s) 4/5/6/7/8/9

Given from this we have a rough estimate of the timeline that concerns Atlas, and Mantle And the rise of certain characters from Atlas and Mantle. This will carry over to the next section help with the known history of this Kingdom

Origins, & History

This section is going to be a long recap of the history of this kingdom If you already know or are not interested please skip to the summary (Words in Bold should be taken as something to think and analyze upon)

Early Settlement and Rise

Originally founded by settlers who traveled north to the icy continent of Solitas in order to begin a new civilization. Its harsh climates and great mountain ranges helped to suppress the threat of the Grimm, but it also proved difficult for the population to grow. Humanity adapted, however, by using Dust in tandem with advanced technology, developed out of necessity and at faster progression than the rest of the world, creating what came to be known then as the Kingdom of Mantle. Their advancements in Dust application allowed Mantle to expand and devote more territory to mining and research, including the area beside the Kingdom's combat school, Alsius Academy.

Alliance with Mistral

Prior to the war, Mantle formed an alliance with Mistral. The two traded frequently, and Mantle taught Mistral how to form settlements in the snowy northern region of Anima.

Incident at Mantle

After an incident with the Grimm, Mantle came to the conclusion that, if it controlled its citizens' emotions through the abolishment of the arts and self-expression, it would become safer from Grimm. Rather than lose the alliance, Mistral did the same, to an extent. This added to the list of things Vale disliked about Mantle and Mistral, among which was the treatment of their own citizens, their use of slavery and their insistence that their way of life was what was best for everyone.

The Great War

Eventually, Mistral entered a conflict with Vale, after a riot between settlers from the two devolved into the first battle of the Great War. Mantle rushed to their ally's aid, and together, they fought Vale on both Sanus and Anima soil. Having established a presence in Vacuo, the two allied Kingdoms were able to keep Vacuo out of the conflict, and some time into the war, they began pressuring the desert Kingdom to join the war on their side. Fearing that they would conquer Vacuo, should Vale fall, the citizens of Vacuo pushed Mantle and Mistral out of their territory and allied themselves with Vale.

Around eighty years before the beginning of the series, a massive ten-year conflict known as the Great War came to an end. In this war, Mantle and Mistral fought Vale and Vacuo.

During the Great War, Mantle accelerated the pace of its technological innovation, developing new weapons and applications of Dust, giving them an edge during the conflict. Large tracts of land were set aside for Dust mining and research.

Wars end and the road to reconstruction

The Great War finally came to an end with the deadliest battle in the war's history. Mantle and Mistral attempted to take Vacuo's Dust mines to cut off their enemy's supply. There, they were met with the King of Vale personally leading his army alongside Vacuo. It is said that he laid waste to countless men, but historians claim that this feat was aided by the unusually violent weather and Mantle's inexperience in desert combat.

With the war over, the leaders of the four Kingdoms gathered on neutral ground on Vytal to form a treaty and plan the future of Remnant. There, the four Kingdoms' governments were restructured, their territories were redistributed, slavery was abolished, the tradition of the Vytal Festival was begun and the King of Vale founded the four Huntsman Academies.

Atlas Academy and its secrets

Alsius was reopened under the name Atlas Academy and was secretly given the Relic of Creation to safeguard. As a gift to the world, Atlas invented the Cross Continental Transmit System and had the towers for it built on each Huntsman Academy's campus, thus allowing all four Kingdoms to communicate. In an attempt to give back to its citizens, Mantle applied many of the techniques and technologies used in the war to enhance the Huntsman Academy's campus, expanding the school grounds and even securing the surrounding areas. Along with the eventual establishment and merging of the military and research facilities with the government and schools, the original capital of Mantle was overshadowed. The decision was made to move the capital to Atlas, and the Kingdom as a whole was also accordingly renamed to Atlas. Around this time, an incarnation of Ozma suggested to use the Relic of Creation to raise Atlas off the ground. By the present day, the public story for Atlas being kept afloat is due to Gravity Dust.

The Schnee Dust Company

The Schnee Dust Company was founded by Nicholas Schnee in the aftermath of the Great War, in the kingdom of Mantle. Nicholas personally led numerous expeditions around the world to find Dust veins, earning him praise and respect throughout the Kingdoms, while also greatly expanding his company. However, as time passed Nicholas began to grow weary. His family missed him and his health was failing. He was convinced by his son-in-law, Jacques Schnee, to let him inherit the company. Under Jacques' leadership, the Schnee Dust Company's profits grew exponentially, albeit through less-than-ethical practices, such as the use of cheap labor, allowing dangerous working conditions, possible monopolies and having shady business partners.

The Defunct Kingdom of Mantle

The former capital of Mantle appears to have subsequently fallen on hard times,

During the charity concert , guests are heard conversing with Jacques Schnee about the economic disparity between the cities of Atlas and Mantle.

At the same time, they discuss Faunus-Human relations; it is implied that a significant portion of Faunus live in the poorer city of Mantle, and are economically disadvantaged themselves. Those that moved to the city of Atlas were "promised jobs by the Schnee Dust Company amongst others, though it is implied that this is not working out as well as the immigrants would have hoped.

The 40th Vytal Festival Tournament

Preparations for the Vytal Festival were held as early as RWBY's first semester in Beacon. Representatives of the four kingdoms converged upon Vale beginning in the second semester of Team RWBY's first year. The Atlesian contingent, including Penny Polendina and led by academy headmaster and military leader General Ironwood, arrived aboard three Airships in an impressive show of force. The Vytal Festival was marked by a stronger security presence than usual, with a sizable fleet of airships constantly overhead as well as android soldiers patrolling the grounds. This was due to the precautions of General James Ironwood, who was appointed to head of security by the Vale council following the events of "Breach", where Grimm were able to enter the city.

Unbeknownst to the populace, the matches of the 40th Vytal Festival were manipulated by Cinder Fall, who had managed to infect the Cross Continental Transmit System with a computer virus, giving her the ability to decide the match-ups in the tournament.

The festival was marred by Yang's apparently unprovoked attack on Mercury in the first singles match of the tournament. This caused widespread controversy amongst audiences. Unknown to the public, these events were also manipulated by Cinder. Emerald, working under Cinder's direction, used her Semblance to create illusions that led Yang to attack Mercury, mistakenly believing it to be self-defense. The controversy and negative emotions attracted the attention of the Grimm, which attempted to enter the City of Vale. Huntsmen and Atlas forces managed to hold them off but had to call for additional help.

Fall of Beacon

Tragedy struck, the following night, when Penny was destroyed by Pyrrha in a fatal accident, also orchestrated by Cinder, who attempted to make the accident appear like a cold-blooded murder. Cinder then took control of the broadcast with a computer virus and used it to transmit a message condemning the government. The subsequent horror and panic amongst the audience attracted even more Grimm, which managed to overwhelm the defenses that General Ironwood had set up around the City of Vale. With the Grimm attack imminent, the Festival was canceled and Amity Colosseum was evacuated.

During the 40th Vytal Festival, the hosting Kingdom, Vale, is attacked and Beacon Academy and its Cross Continental Transmit tower was destroyed, cutting off Atlas' communication with the other three Kingdoms. The festival's live broadcast and Atlas' robots were hijacked by the attackers, who made it appear as though Atlas attacked innocent civilians. Beacon became overrun with Grimm, and the presence of a petrified Wyvern drew in even more Grimm. Atlas officials searched for a solution, but with Vale making slow progress to retake the academy even after several months, they were not optimistic.

During the several months between the end of Volume 3 and beginning of Volume 4, the Atlesian council voted to place an embargo on Dust exports, in an attempt to prevent conflict, due to the other Kingdoms believing Atlas attacked Vale. This embargo continued into the events of Volumes 4 through 7.

The Present and the Fall to Come

Upon learning from Winter Schnee of a brewing threat in Mistral, General Ironwood decides to close the borders of the Kingdom of Atlas, calling back most of his troops to defend their home. He stations a small group of soldiers, lead by Special Operative Caroline Cordovin, to stay in the city of Argus and restrict transportations to Atlas.

The Atlesian Military aids in the assembly of the Amity Communications Tower, and later defends Mantle in the Battle of Mantle from incoming Grimm onslaughts. Once Ironwood declares martial law and attempts to raise the city of Atlas, the military attempts to capture Ruby's Group as an arrest warrant for them is sent out throughout the kingdom.

Summary

In this long recap we can see that the Kingdom of Atlas is one of long complicated situations and conflicts both internal and external. Both in Survival and society. The Survival aspect prior to the incident of Mantle was less about the Grimm and more of the cost of living. The Early settlers developed advanced tech to heat and insulate their homes (And Possibly burrow underground and make ice carved towns/Like Old Ba Sing Se) As well as establishing trade agreements with Imperial Mistral(Food for tech)

Now comes the social imbalance caused by this survivability. In a word where Demonic monsters drawn by negative emotions force most people to live in armed fortress cities that makes living in Remnant a very difficult task. There is very little hope to wonder whether or not you can prosper in such a world. That is until Mantle became an official Kingdom and once word spread through its trade and the rumors of security and high survivability it would not be much of a stretch for more people to migrate to what could possibly be the safest place on Remnant

Sadly it is human instinct to trade whatever we value for security and peace of mind. And in a place where the Grimm of the time can freeze to death instantly might as well be the city of angels worth any cost. An opportunity for people make a life for themselves instead of just surviving.(Huh... I wonder if their were any walking dead stories in remnant?)

But sadly this was also a crippling blow to mantle as its natural security from the Grimm attracted the desperate it also attracted the corrupted. Why I say that is because of these two lines;

Prior to the war, Mantle formed an alliance with Mistral. The two traded frequently, and Mantle taught Mistral how to form settlements in the snowy northern region of Anima.

Why do these two line make me think that Mantle attracted the corrupt people of remnant as well as the desperate?

Well we all know by now that Mistral was a large continental empire whose power further grew thanks to mantle. And as establish the larger the territory the harder it is to control. This lack of control is why most of the bad people such as thieves and murderers go there to hide. And it continues to be like this to rwby present.

But was it truly the only territory to have such a problem. Criminals by nature are cowardly with a need of guaranteed self preservation when doing something bad. Either from local law enforcement or Grimm. And since Mistral had a trade agreement for tech interchange for food it would not be impossible for fleeing criminals to run and hide to Mantle incase Anima was no longer an option(Similar to fleeing the country(Canada or Mexico)) Sure your still a wanted person by the law but chances are you would have a higher chance of survival if you focus on avoiding the law instead of the Grimm.

And where can you go without worrying about the Grimm; Mantle Do to this it wouldn’t be unlikely that Mid- late Mantle prior to the incident would be remnants 2nd crime-ridden civilization. Just behind Mistral but just a little bit a head of Vacuo.

Which brings me to the other point

The incident in Mantle was most likely the first time that Mantles Natural security failed. And like most security systems when compromised they are either improved and fixed or replaced for something more efficient. But what caused the need for this change in security. The Grimm attack sure but the questions are; why were they there, and how did they get there?

As we know Salem can make improve or make newer Grimm types using her magic so it is quite possible that a prospering city in the frozen tundra would force her hand and she would try to destroy this kingdom to save her ego. As such she made Grimm that can withstand the cold of solitas. The one and only effective security system that Mantle had for over a century(If it ain’t broke don’t fiddle with it).

As most civilizations IRL people usually don’t change unless something unexpected happens that forces said people to improve the conditions of their lifestyle. But what would cause the people of mantle to change their lifestyle so drastically that it makes them almost robotic and inhuman.

Well as the old saying goes; Men do not fear men they fear Monsters. And when your in the only place were the monster can’t get you especially the ones that are drawn to your inner darkness, you’re pretty much free to indulge in whatever passions you deem fit. Especially if your a criminal running from law ranging from petty theft to outright murder(Serial killer in terms of tyrian). And sadly people are also entitled to an opinion, and sadly we all really don’t get along when it comes to opinions. Now what do we argue the most when our opinions clash with one another; Art and all of its medias.

Most people don’t really argue when it comes to the workplace(Unless safety concerns) or the state of other nations(unless your allies) on a day to day basis. For the most part people really don’t care or value that part of their lives mostly because they were already born in what has already established by their ancestors. So they just maintain the status quo of the functional economics of there time however they truly focus all their efforts and time into whatever passions they enjoy. But sadly as I learned through social media we really don’t get along when it comes to media entertainment( Huh as I wrote that I can’t help but wonder if the Mantle incident and the aftermath was meta foreshadowing in regards to the current state of the RT and RWBY fandoms)

Anyway Mantles soon to be outdated security and the emotions of its unchecked citizens have led to the incident that made it rethink its current defense. Something that would improve the chance of survival and make sure the people wouldn’t give into their passions.

The former can be done no problem(IRL one of the reasons why humans are the dominant species on the planet is because we like to make items that kill so other things can die instead of us) But the latter not so much. You really can’t just easily expect people to fall in line just like that or allow you to do so. But do you know what can allow you to do that; Martial Law or a Stratocracy based government(Think of the Galactic Empire)

This makes sense given the fact that Mantle had relied on natural defenses instead of practical defenses like fleets of ships or large militias. Usually when marital law is enacted it is usually a choice made by the current government to reestablish security and control over their panicked and threatened citizens. As well as to ensure that the people don’t revolt and try to replace the current government via revolution once its been made clear that the current government can’t protect its citizens. Usually Martial laws are temporary administrations. Its only when they are dragged out longer than their intended purpose do they become oppressive. So the question now stands; Did Mantles M.L. drag out longer than intended or did it evolve into a Military Dictatorship?

Either way the end result obviously didn’t end well. Not just because of the events it played during the great war but what kind of impact it had and the lingering scars that persisted into Atlas. This is easily recognized by the conflict between rwby and Ironwood when it came to the decision of whether or not to declare martial law.

The scenes in “the worst case scenario and Gravity,” when it brings up the topic of martial law paints a clear picture; this wasn’t the first time its been declared.

Obviously Gravity shows Weiss’s reaction to Ironwoods declaration. It’s almost a tear breaking expression for her and shock that it causes her to quietly say no in disbelief. Now I’m not familiar to the education system of the rich but given her ties to the SDC Atlas Mantle I would assume she is well versed in the history of her kingdom when it comes to politics/ the source of all trade between nations

Now why is that important well assuming this isn’t the first time martial law has been declared and that their have been several periods in the kingdoms history when it was declared its quite clear that it had mixed results that either were fine or dragged out longer than their intended purpose that resulted in the Great war.

A sort of progressive retraction that would not only just start another great war but would tear down all of the pillars of progress of humanity that Atlas had tried to restore. They are becoming ancient mantle once again. More robotic in nature and Inhuman except this time They had accumulated immense power and are willing to use it against anyone who stands in their way of self preservation. Since the show is clearly setting the state for a second great war much like our world wars I find it interesting that despite knowing what caused the first great war and the events that led to it. It is repeating the same mistakes of the past

(In the words of George Lucas; It’s like poetry, so that they rhyme)

Conclusion

After reviewing and giving some thought as I was researching sources and videos for this I was quite surprised by how much was shown and told in regards of the origins of Atlas.

And then comparing those findings to other works and our real world history, and societies, there is no doubt that real world Atlases and Mantles exist or have existed in our world and how they either changed for the better or fallen for the benefit of all(I’ll elaborate more in other posts about that)

But sadly Atlas is repeating the mistakes of the past and it continues to not see it. And unless the people acknowledge that they are doomed, regardless of Salem or not.

#rwby #world of remnant #rwby atlas #rwby atlas soldier #rwby mantle #james ironwood #weiss schnee #rwby ironwood #winter schnee #robyn hill #penny polendina #pietro polendina #arthur watts #jaques schnee #rwby ace ops #rwby happy huntresses #Ironwood analysis

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goatbi · 4 years

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Breaking Free

Warnings: Implied Abuse!

At this point, Dark knew well how Host’s family was. Dark’s own parents were absent, but not unloving. Busy was the best work Dark had for it. Host’s, on the other hand...

Well, Dark wasn’t often filled with murderous rage, but with Host’s so called family, they made an exception.

The beginning of senior year, Host seemed to be exhausted near constantly. His bandages needed changing far more often, which Dark often ended up dragging him to do during passing periods, even as Host tended to try and avoid them. It wasn’t going to work, since they had all their classes together, and Host’s way of communicating didn’t work on anyone but him, Mal, and Wilford half the time, and even then, most people didn’t know sign.

It was then that Dark managed to find the bruises.

Host had always come to school with bruises. Small ones, easily hidden, nothing that Dark could prove, but now, they were dark. Fingers wrapped too harshly around a wrist, dark bruising down his ribs, a hand wrapped around his throat hidden my a scarf in the middle of August.

“Host.”

He did nothing, but kept himself turned away, sitting on the counter of the A Building bathroom, where Dark had managed to steal his scarf, finally revealing the purpleing bruises across his neck, and arms, and finally his ribs and back.

“Host please. You need to get out of there.”

I know

“You can stay with me.”

Host’s head came up, hands stilling in the air. Really?

“I’ve told you this before, Host.” Dark shifted forwards, grabbing his hand to stop him from being able to push this away. Host pouted at them, but Dark didn’t let it deter them. “I know you think you can handle it until then, but Host... please. Just come stay with me.”

Host tugged his hand away carefully. They’ll know I’m with you though. What happens if they report me as a runaway?

“Okay, so we get Wilford and Mal into it. Bounce you around houses until they stop looking. Stay out of school for awhile, and we’ll bring you whatever work you have, and we’ll pass it back to the teachers. It’s fine.”

You’ve thought about this a lot.

Dark sent him a look, scoffing at that. “Oh yes, because I wouldn’t think about how to get my best friend out of his abusive home.” Host smiled softly, nodding a bit. “So?”

There was a moment’s pause, before Host sighed, and nodded. Fine. I’ll pack a bag tonight, pass it off to you tomorrow. Get whatever I need, might need two trips for that, but... Yeah.

Dark grinned. “Good. Now come on. Mal and Wilford are probably tired of waiting, and they need in on the plan too.”

Host hopped off the counter, reaching out a hand to catch Dark’s sleeve, Dark draping the scarf around his neck again and walking him out of the bathroom, towards Wilford’s car.

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

The plan was simple. Day One, Host got important things out, anything of sentimental value to him, anything that he wanted to keep with him that he probably couldn’t get a second thing of. Snuck it out of the house late at night, hid it in the bushes outside his house, and, when Wilford stopped outside to pick him up for school, he stepped out, grabbing Host’s bag from the bush and tossed it in the back seat with all his other random things, where no one would expect it. Day two was clothing and toiletries, same idea, and then, one day three, when Wilford grabbed the bags from the bush, sliding them into the back once more, Host got into the car, leaving the house behind for the last time.

They took all of Host’s things to Wilford’s house first. Mal’s family wasn’t exactly around to care, but they didn’t want to risk it being one of those few times they were around to give a shit, so Wilford’s it was. Host and Wilford were close, but everyone would assume Host was camping at Dark’s house first, and then Mal, and then Wilford. If the police were called, they would go to Dark first, and, if they had a proper warrant, which Dark was going to doubt they did, after the police searched the house, Dark would be able to send a text to Wilford, who would then sneak Host and his things to Dark’s house, while the police went to Mal’s home, and then be back by the time they got to Wilford’s. If, of course, they had the proper paperwork, which they all seriously doubted they would have.

The only hitch was if they left someone to watch Dark’s house, which was a possibility, but Dark’s father was a man higher up in the city, and could, if asked, cover for them. Dark dealt with that part on day two, while Host sat in the house for the last time, clothing packed up and hidden in the bushes.

When Host got to school that day, there was a nervous energy about all of them. Everyone could tell they were planning something, but what was unknown. As usual, the four of them left together, using Wilford’s car, again, as usual, going straight to Wilford’s house.

There, they stayed, until Dark’s father called him home, and Mal left with him, leaving Wilford and Host behind. Host was extremely anxious about it, pacing back and forth across the floor, chewing on his thumbnail nervously. Wilford managed to get him to stop chewing, since he had seen first hand what Host could do, chewing through his own skin in his panic.

What if they know?

“Well I assume at this point they know, Hosty. I don’t know the protocol of calling in a runaway, but I think they would call it in if they still want you under their control.”

Everyone saw me leaving with you.

“You always do that. We usually go to Dark’s house, we talked about going to Dark’s house. Dark is your best friend. They will look there first.” Wilford caught Host’s hands again, keeping him from chewing. “You need to get some sleep, alright. I’m sure you’re going to be pacing nervously all day tomorrow.”

Host sighed, nodding slightly, and they curled up on the couch together. Even then, Host didn’t fall asleep until two am.

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

Mal stayed in Wilford’s house with Host the next day. He got multiple texts from Dark, as Dark told him exactly what was going on.

“So... They definitely called you in.” Mal said, one arm around Host, who nodded slowly. “Multiple teachers called Dark out of class to see if they knew where you are. We have a running count of the people who have stopped them at this point, it’s nearly every single staff at this point.”

Host laughed softly, lifting his head up towards Mal. Obliging, Mal leaned down, kissing his forehead.

“A few also stopped Wilford, but Dark is really being targeted at this point. If I had gone, I think I would have also been pretty targeted.”��

Host nodded again, and settled quietly against Mal’s side, wrapping his arms around Mal’s waist, half asleep. He hadn’t slept well really, and Mal let him drift back off.

It was later that day when Dark sent the text.

‘Police stopped by. Dad got them to go away. Apparently, even if the family has suspicions of the runaway being in the house, they can’t search without a warrant, since it’s obvious that Host is a runaway, not a kidnapping. How did he clean out his room with that few bags?’

I’m good at packing things apparently, not that I really had much I wanted to keep. Host grinned up at Mal, and Mal had the passing thought of how they were going to get Host’s braces off when the time came, but it slipped past as Host’s hand went into motion once more. The laws of space mean nothing to me.

“I’m telling Dark that, and they can be the one to debate that with you.” Mal ignored Host’s movements, which only led to a fight for the phone, as incomprehensible key smash texts were sent to Dark, to which they only replied ‘Don’t die.’

When the fighting died down, only due to Wilford coming in with food for the three of them, Mal managed to send the text of ‘Host believes the laws of space are nothing’ and waited for that bomb to drop.

The next day was, luckily, a weekend, meaning they could spend the day sitting with Host and calming his anxieties, while also evading the police, just in case. Dark’s father, while not fully in the loop of everything, had gotten enough information to stall the warrant process if it started, but, as far as they could tell, it wasn’t going to. Host wasn’t considered an abducted child, and, considering he was seventeen at this point, a senior in high school, the police really couldn’t do much. There were a few months until his eighteenth birthday, and, by that point, no one could touch him.

So, that day, they moved Host and his things from Wilford’s to Dark’s. There was a car stationed outside that they didn’t like the look of, but one text to Dark had his father coming down just to be sure, so they could sneak Host in with his stuff, up into Dark’s room.

Host lay on the floor, Mal laying across his chest, grinning. He hadn’t moved to say anything at the moment, but Dark didn’t think he needed to, the grin saying everything. Wilford leaned against Dark’s side, where they sat on the bed, looking down at the two of them.

“So... how are we going to celebrate this?”

#markiplier egos #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #the host #malfunction/malik #Feelings In Various Ways #muzzled au

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theawkwardterrier · 5 years

Text

(In Our Togetherness) Castles Are Built

Learning to live together takes work. Written for @steggyfanevents Hearts or Butts Challenge (hearts, obv! well, hearts-ish)

AO3 link here.

They are not, it turns out, naturally compatible roommates.

Oh, they’re both courteous enough people. They both pitch in on cleaning up, take out the trash when the bin is full, replace the toilet paper roll or lightbulbs when needed instead of pretending they haven’t seen them - they’re not monsters.

But Steve wears his shoes inside the house without even thinking while Peggy takes hers off as she walks in the door, and she ends up irritated by the remaining street grit he unknowingly brings inside which she constantly feels through her nylons. He acquices easily when, three days in, she asks him to start removing his shoes when he comes home. He’s solicitous by nature and happy to make her happy. But they have been in such synchronicity since they met, in personality and values and choices, that these times when they stumble into dissonance are made all the more confusing for it.

And they keep stumbling. Peggy has changed from fire red nails to shell pink to deep plum, swiping firmly with polish remover and buffing and adding practiced coats in the evenings, before Steve mentions, carefully controlled, that the acrid smell in the small space is overwhelming to him. Several weeks later, as she asks him to contain his art supplies more carefully when he is in the midst of a project, she does not bring up the scent of paint in the room but the idea of it lingers.

He can’t understand why she insists on washing her breakfast plate and teacup even when she’s rushing out the door, and objects when she sighs and washes his too if he tries to leave them to wash with the supper dishes later. She can’t fathom why he insists on regularly listening to baseball games, and especially does not grasp why he must commentate aloud while he does, his soundtrack of groans and curses and punctuating affirmations making an already disruptive pastime she has no interest in even more so. He likes having the windows open, especially on these summer nights, and she closes them at every opportunity against the bugs and the noise, the city-scented breeze. She buys new paperbacks nearly every week or at least every other, and he stares baffled at the living room bookshelf, quickly filling with books she will likely never read again, and reminds her of their local library.

They are not good at it at first. But they do, it turns out, get better at it.

“It might be sensible to have a box of cold cereal in the house,” Peggy calls from the bedroom one morning. They’ve once again spent a bit too much time in bed, and as she rushes to get ready for the day, he’s gone to prepare toast and an egg for her - soft-boiled because they’re short on time.

“Easier for us on mornings like this,” he calls back, “but easier for the pests too.”

Coming into the room affixing an earring, she asks, “Do we have some sort of infestation?”

“Nothing I’ve seen lately, but you never know with these kinds of things.” He shrugs.

“I suppose not,” she says, reaching down plates for the two of them (no time even for egg cups). “But I don’t usually think of it.”

He laughs, taking out the butter. “Oh, you would if you’d seen the things I have,” he says, and it’s lucky Peggy isn’t squeamish or easily put off her food, because the casual mentions over breakfast of occasional scuttling roaches and his mother’s broom corralling fist-sized rats would turn a weaker stomach.

“I had thought your insistence on canisters for the oats and sugar was simply a homey touch,” she comments as she slips on her pumps and glances around for her portfolio.

“It is,” he says, handing it to her along with her purse. “Just from a different kind of home than you’re used to.”

That evening, when she comes home and sees his shoes leveled neatly beside each other by the front door, she asks him about that too. She hadn’t even thought to before. And he tells her about floors that somehow always seemed grimy no matter how often they cleaned, about times when there wasn’t any heat - not in the dead of winter, not usually, but in the trailing autumn and snappish early spring when the chill was still biting - and Steve and his mother kept their shoes on because taking them off would have meant frigid feet.

And so they begin to understand each other. Not automatically the way they do with so much else, not without asking, but in a different way, just as deep, just as necessary. She tells him about growing up with a mother who insisted that everything in the house be tidied before it was possible to turn to the marketing or visiting friends, about boarding school demerits for an unmade bed or an incompletely cleared table in the refectory (Peggy was somewhat particular about how she acquired her demerits), about going into shelters during the Blitz (or sometimes not going into shelters) wondering if someone was going to have to return to her bedsit and find her clothing dropped onto the floor or a crumb-covered dish on the table, remnants of a life to which she would never return.

He still doesn’t feel the need to keep things as constantly tidy as she does, but now he knows that element of her, sees her requests not as something to tolerate but to understand as a part of who she is. And she understands, too, about how comforting he finds the smell of paint, the sounds and scents of the city, how familiar they are, how sometimes for weeks throwing the windows wide and letting those things in was the only way he had been able to have a bit of the outdoors with him. She didn’t know him then, but she knows about that part of him now.

So they compromise, buying window screens and keeping the gap to only a few inches, switching places in bed so Steve sleeps closer to the window, feeling the play of air across his face as he falls asleep.

They compromise, agreeing that Peggy can polish her nails as long as she leaves a window open. Steve has always liked how they look anyway and, more importantly, how they make her feel: pretty and coordinated and in control of the way she’s perceived. With the issue of smell dealt with, he can admire each new color she chooses. They decide that Steve’s tradition of listening to baseball can continue at a lowered volume and with more limited commentary, though Peggy eventually finds herself looking over with fondness at his avid appreciation of the game (even if, when he finally takes her to one in person, she still finds it far inferior to cricket).

She becomes more judicious about buying books, finally allowing herself to leave behind her tradition of newly purchased detective stories that buoyed her during the war; they go to browse at the library together during evening hours instead. He starts running free art classes at the local community center and is allowed to have his own easel there for paintings in progress.

Peggy is permitted to take Steve’s undershirts and button-downs without asking as long as she knows they’ll return to him after laundry day. Steve can eat her marmalade, but only if he’s reasonable about his sampling and willing to buy another jar if he finishes the last of it.

“I sort of liked the part where you were all exasperated with each other,” a disgruntled Howard tells them, heaping a serving of spaghetti onto his plate the first time they host dinner at their place. “Some of us like it when you aren’t perfect all the time.”

Steve laughs. “We definitely aren't perfect, but we had something good and we knew it.”

“Well, you knew enough to be damn obvious about it,” Bucky says, helping himself to bread. “And not do anything but moon for years.”

“We were at war,” Steve scowls. “And we were taking time to build a foundation.”

“And now we know,” Peggy takes over smoothly, “that good foundation or not, relationships actually take work.” She knocks back the last of her scotch sour (she’d charmed the recipe out of the bartender at the Stork Club) and looks at Howard over the rim of the empty glass. “Perhaps one day you’ll be lucky enough to take part yourself.”

Mr. Jarvis coughs politely into his wine glass, his mouth thinned against a laugh. Ana reaches over to cuff her husband on the shoulder before patting Howard on his. “I’m sure you will one day,” she says with kind consolation.

“Not one day soon, I hope,” Howard says. “I’ll leave that kind of work to you for now.”

And they keep working at it, communicating and laughing and finding middle ground, discovering who they have each been and who they can be together. They make a life that is theirs: talking in the mornings while Peggy puts on her makeup, their eyes catching in the mirror; sitting down together every month to pay bills and review their savings, their plans for them the future, treating themselves to something sweet once it’s done (berry tarts when Steve buys, brownies when Peggy does); a dance at midnight on New Year’s Eve regardless of where they are.

It’s an art, living together, being together, and they become expert at it.

And, several years down the road, when the new roommate they’ve discussed - a smaller, squirmier sort of roommate - joins the family, they plan to teach them too.

#steggyheartsbutts #Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #well..........¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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hrhduchessoflancaster · 4 years

Text

Chapter Ninety-Three: A Council from the Past

Disclaimer: see Prologue

A/N: I know it’s been months and a lot has happened to everyone and to the real life Harry but onwards with the history. No interferences from the real world shall come into this story. So I’ll continue with what I had already planned and finish this story in the coming months (finally!). Hope you’re all staying safe and healthy. Lots of love, Bea.

__________________________________________________________________

A few days after Owen’s birth, they released his full name to the press: Owen Charles Philip Augustus and their son would be known as HRH Prince Owen of Sussex, like his older brother. They had traveled to London by helicopter on the next morning to have the baby accessed properly at St. Mary’s Hospital. Once mom and baby where both cleared, they decided there’s no point in travelling again and decided to remain in London. So Elle’s parents and brother were the ones who made the trip to Kensington to meet the newest addition to the family.

“ Oh, he’s so precious, sweetheart.”, said Victoria, holding her youngest grandson in her arms. Elle and Harry smiled at her, while Arthur snuggled on his father’s lap.

“ I really the name you’ve chosen for him. Strong name, a family name no less.”, said her father smiling to the couple.

“ Yes, I quite agree”, said her brother. “ But maybe next name, could you make him an Edward?”, he continued and the room was filled with laughter.

And so the Sussexes spent their Christmas and New Year at home, relishing in the company of their sons and close family as much as they could for they knew that in the coming month they’d have many engagements to attend to with their renewed and fuller schedule, which included new charities and a much awaited christening to plan and execute.

************

March 2020

Dressed in a white a floral dress with a matching fascinator, Elle walked beside Harry carrying Owen in her arms, as he held on to Arthur who had insisted on walking. The flashes of the cameras slightly blinding them as they made their way towards the Archbishop. Much like at Arthur’s christening, the service was a private one, with family and guests present, including the Queen, Prince Philip and the closest members of the royal couple at the Chapel Royal, in London.

For Owen’s Godparents they chose Valerie & Edward, Catherine & Mr. Richard Collins. Harry and Elle walked in first towards the altar, as Elle carried Owen in her arms while the godparents followed behind them. Elle then passed the baby to Valerie, while Catherine held the towel to dry the baby's head.

" Your Majesty, Your Royals Highnesses, Your Graces, ladies and gentlemen... Parents and Godparents, the Church receives this child with much joy. Today we are trusting God for his growth in faith. Will you pray for him, draw him by your example into the community of faith and walk with him in the way of Christ?", asked the Archbishop.

" With the help of God, we will.", they replied in unison. The Archbishop lit a large candle and the service proceeded with prayers and blessings.

" Owen Charles Philip Augustus, I baptise you in the name of Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.", he said. Elle and Harry smiled as Owen cooed and Arthur clapped, making the congregation chuckle. The day was filled with joy and love, a bit different from their previous christening experience. No big revelations or problems this time around. The bells rang as the people left the chapel and moved to the palace itself. Little by little they made their way inside. Elle was holding Owen in her arms as Harry held Arthur, gleaming as the press snapped picture after picture that would soon be all over the world.

After the service, the couple, friends, family and guests enjoyed a luncheon at the grounds of St. James’s Palace. While the guests mingled, Mario Testino once again was asked by the couple to take their official portraits. Since it was a bit chilly for them to be outside, they took the photos in the Yellow Drawing Room, whose pale, pastel colour along with the sunlight coming from the window, made it seemed as if there was a halo surrounding the family. All in all, the pictures portrayed a very sweet and touching moment, that would be recorded on their minds and on paper forever.

Once the pictures were taken, they moved along to the grounds of the palace, with Valerie and Edward constantly bantering who’d be the best godparent as well as keeping the infant in their arms, switching every so often from one another. Owen, of course, loved the attention. On the other hand, Arthur was relishing on the undivided attention he was receiving from his parents. As per tradition, once again a piece of their wedding cake was defrosted and served to the guests, along with refreshments, sandwiches, canapés, confections and some stronger beverages such as brandy and whiskey.

************

A week later…

Harry and Elle had travelled to Scotland for an engagement in Perth, which was their first visit to their Earldom of Atholl. They had been visiting distilleries, churches and schools. They were in the middle of a guided visit at the famous St John's Kirk church, all was going very well when suddenly Ingrid, Alfred and Leo rushed to their sides along with Daniel and Lisa.

“ Apologies, Your Royal Highnesses, may we talk in private for a moment?”, said Lisa. The couple excused themselves and joined their staff on a corner of the church.

“ We’ve just received news from Her Majesty’s office. You’re needed back in London as soon as possible.”, said Lisa. Elle and Harry looked at each other alarmed.

“ Has something happened?”, asked Harry urgently.

“ We don’t know for sure, sir. But it’s the Duke of Edinburgh.”, said Daniel. Elle’s eyes widened and she reached for her husband��s hand, giving it a squeeze, which he returned.

“ We can’t simply rush outside. People will think it’s strange.”, whispered Elle to Harry. He hummed in agreement.

“ What is the plan?”, she asked in a low tone their RPOs and secretaries.

“ The helicopter is ready on the outskirts of the city to take you back to London. We’ll make an orderly exit to the car, as if nothing has happened.”, Lisa whispered back.

“ We should thank them and excuse ourselves, darling.”, said Elle, making Harry nod his head. Together with trained smiles, they returned to their hosts and very politely thanked them for the wonderful tour, took a couple of pictures and exited the church with cameras flashing in their direction. Inside the car, they kept their smiles up until they were out of reach from the paparazzi and the public.

“ Dear God… what could have happened now?”, wondered Harry, running his hands on his face. Elle’s hands ran up and down his back, comfortingly but her eyes held the same worry as his.

“ Sir, ma’am… we’ve got news. Apparently the Duke of Edinburgh and Her Majesty were in Sandringham for the weekend when His Royal Highness started feeling ill. They then travelled from Norfolk this morning to the King Edward VII Hospital in London for observation and treatment in relation to a pre-existing condition.”, said Daniel.

“ So grandad is sick again…”, said Harry. “ But that’s not new. He’s been on and off the hospital for the past year or so. What’s wrong this time… what are you not telling us?”, he insisted.

“ I’m afraid we don’t know sir. They are making tests but we can assume that…”, began Lisa.

“ Assume what?”, said Elle. Lisa and Daniel looked at each other and sighed.

“ …that it’s not looking good if they asked you to return to London with such urgency. They are saying… that Operation Forth Bridge is on high alert.”, continued Daniel. The couple looked at each other, eyes wide at the severity of what might have been waiting for them in London. They held their hands tighter as they got nearer to the helicopter. Soon, they’d know for sure how bad it really was.

************

Upon arriving in London and making sure their sons were okay with their grandparents, the couple was taken to King Edward VII Hospital, a place they knew well enough and brought back a few memories, specially to Elle. She pushed those aside and hand in hand with Harry, she was guided by their staff to a private ward where as soon as they arrived, they could see Charles & Camilla, Anne & Timothy, Andrew, Edward & Sophie and the Queen.

“ Nobody said what’s happened. What’s going on?”, asked Harry, looking around the room. The Queen, visibly shook, was being held by Andrew and Edward.

“ It seems his heart is in a bad shape. His coronary artery was clogged again but when they were making tests in order to operate him, they discover that… his heart is failing. They can’t operate. It would be too risky.”, said Charles, misty eyed. Elle and Harry breathed in deeply and looked at each other.

“ What can they do then?”, asked Elle, sympathetically.

“ They’ve given him some medication to help with the clog and he’s being monitored but there’s not much they can do. The doctor’s said that… due to the severity and his age…they are just trying to make him comfortable.”, replied Charles. Elle and Harry hearing his words then realised why they had been called to the hospital. They were not only there for moral support. They were there to say goodbye.

For the next few days they came and went to the hospital to stay with the family and talk to Philip as much as they could. The older royal was struggling a bit with the idea of departing against his own terms but was comforting to the fact that there was nothing he could do. Even thought he general mood was gloom, the Duke of Edinburgh tried to remain in good spirits, cracking a joke every once in a while and terrorising the doctors from time to time. Though there was no joke or funny comment that could make up for the look of utter loss and sadness that had taken over the Queen.

By the end of the week, the press and public had caught up with the news but they didn’t yet know the extent of Prince Philip’s condition. As soon as the news began to travel, messages were pilling up on social media, prayers and good wishes were sent from all over he Commonwealth, vigils were held from all over the UK and the press, for once, tried to keep their distance and remained alert but respectful. One afternoon as Harry and Elle were keeping him company by relieving the Queen, Prince Charles and Princess Anne so they could rest, the older prince asked to talk to Elle alone.

“ Now my dear… what I have to tell you is simple but extremely important.”, said Philip. She leaned closely to him, listening attentively.

“ Being a member of this family is not easy and you’ve had your fair share of tribulations along the way. I cannot guarantee they are over for in my experience, there’s always something or someone who’ll come along to test or threaten you.”, he continued.

“ I know Charles won’t be king for a long time. He’s already old as it is. And soon it will be Harry’s turn. And one day, your son’s. Being the spouse of a monarch is much harder than it looks. But what you need to know… or better yet, what you need to do… is stand by him. Stand by him, Eleanor. Talk to him, advise him, comfort him but also challenge him. We live in a position of privilege but they hold the real power. We cannot govern for them, but we can try to do it with them.”, finished Philip, closing his eyes momentarily.

“ Promise me you’ll do that. I see so much of myself in that boy… I want him to accomplish all that we could not. And by God I wish you both to have a long life together.”, he continued.

“ I promise.”, said Elle, teary-eyed.

“ Good… good. Now… I must rest. Call one of the nurses, will you?”, he said and she nodded her head, quickly calling one of the nurses with the buzzer.

************

On the following week, per Philip’s and the Queen’s request, he was taken from the hospital back to Buckingham Palace where he’d have all the medical care and attention needed but would be at home and away from all the atmosphere of a hospital, which was what he wanted to have. His condition, unfortunately, did not improve and he weakened further throughout March. On the afternoon, March 14th, 2020 Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh died, with Her Majesty and Princess Anne at his bedside. Queen Elizabeth was devastated. No one had never seen her so sad or distraught apart from her own mother’s death.

His body was taken to the Chapel Royal at St. James’ Palace, which only a few weeks prior had been visited by the family at a much happier occasion. There he remained in the lying in state, with a guard os 20 British Grenadiers soldiers guarding his body. The Queen and all senior members of the Royal Family broadcasted tributes to him. William and Kate also paid tribute. His wishes had been for his funeral to be a private affair, unlike the state funeral he could have if he so wish it. But he had been a soldier his whole life and that’s how he wanted to depart it. As a soldier as well.

And so, on March 28th the funeral was held at Windsor Chapel. His sons and grandsons walked behind the coffin from the short distance between Windsor Castle and St. George’s Chapel. All close members of the Royal Family attended the service, as well as friends, the military associations he spent years as patron of or colonel and the heads of the Commonwealth countries, past and present whom he had had a contact with. He was laid to rest opposite to the Queen Mother, his father-in-law and sister-in-law. A mourning period of thirty days was installed on the family and no one performed any duties for the duration of it.

The Queen retired to Sandringham, away from the public eye, with her dogs and Princess Anne. William, Kate and their children often visited her from Amner Hall. In that period, Harry and Elle also moved away from London with their sons and took solace in their home in Sussex. Renovation had been made to make a new room for Arthur and adaptations into the nursery so it could better suit Owen. Sir Lancelot was delighted to have the free space and wild animals to chase about the property and the couple was happy to be away from all the fuss of the city. Elle took the time to put some of her writing in order and to dedicate some of her time to start a vegetable and spices garden at the property, with Harry’s help. Taken up much of what Charles advised them, they started sustainable farming the estate so it could produce the food they consumed and also created more jobs for the people in the village they lived in.

“ Do you think we’ll be able to go back to normal after this?”, Elle asked him as they were planting some rosemary in a patch of their garden.

“ I don’t think we can go back to normal at all, my love. And honestly, I’m not sure granny ever will.”, said Harry sadly.

#phff #prince harry fanfic #prince harry fanfiction #FATES INTERTWINED

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rynhaswritersblock · 4 years

Text

fancy-schmancy | p.p.

summary: you and peter sneak out of a fancy charity event because adults are boring and there’s better things to do

warnings: pretty darn cliche, a few cuss words, puppy love

+ + +

"nat?" you call, fumbling desperately with the zipper at the back of your dress.

"yeah?" your friend calls, stepping into your room. the woman wore a sleek black dress, looking flawless as always. "poor baby stark, let me help you."

you laugh at natasha's baby voice as she walks over, zipping up your dress and spinning you around.

"peter's gonna drool when he sees you."

your face immediately bursts into color, eyes widening as you gulp before giving natasha a light shove, trying to hide your growing smile.

"shut up, you don't have to keep pretending that he likes me back," you mutter, fiddling with your fingers.

tony stark, also known as your father, was hosting an event to fund-raise for some charity you'd never heard of, and all the avengers were required to go. including you and peter.

you first met peter during the fight between iron man and captain america, the two of you teaming up to take down falcon and the winter soldier. you had grown a small admiration for the boy there, laughing at his comments and how much he talked while fighting. when you saw him in the tower without his mask on for the first time, you couldn't move. the two of you stood there, seeing each other's identity under the mask for the first time, unaware of the weird look tony was giving you two. ever since then, you'd always kept an eye on peter, hyper-aware of his every movement while you were in the room.

what you didn't know was that peter became completely and utterly infatuated the first time he saw you, as well. when his mind wasn't on school or spider-man, he was thinking about you, talking to his AI, karen, about how he should ask you out. of course, karen teased him about it constantly, telling peter suggestively that "y/n is always at the tower if you would like to go talk to her!"

"but he does like you." wanda says, walking into the room.

although natasha and wanda were multiple years older than you, the three of you became close very quickly, teaming up against the fatal amount of testosterone in the tower.

your blush deepened.

you couldn't help but hope that they were right. you were in a beautiful f/c (favorite color) dress, the flowy fabric just barely hitting the floor. to be honest, you felt good about how you looked. it wasn't often that you got all done up, but when you did, your confidence grew.

"hey! slow-pokes! you ready?" tony yells, poking his head through your door, mouth falling slightly agape when he saw you. "look at my daughter. you look amazing, honey. where'd you get that dress?"

"pepper bought it for me." you answer, nodding at your dad. (tell my wHY i typed the word DOG first instead of DAD omfg)

tony nods. "peter's gonna love it." he blurts with a smirk before quickly walking away. you hear a laugh escaping his lips down the hallway, making you groan.

"i'm gonna go, now." you say, giving the girls a quick wave and making your way out of your room, trying your best to walk gracefully in your heels.

you walk down the stairs and into the main part of the building, the large amount of wealthy, well-dressed adults in the venue making you anxious. shaking yourself off, you make your way into the large room, looking around for anyone you knew. you turn, eyes darting all over the place before you bump into someone, the person grabbing your arms to steady you.

that person happened to be peter parker.

"y/n! i am so sor-" peter exclaims before his eyes fully rest on you, the air seeming to fly out of his lungs. "woah. uh, you look... you look beautiful."

your face burns at the compliment as well as at peter himself, the boy clad in a nice suit with a tie that you recognized as your father's. you become hyper-aware of your plunging neckline as peter's eyes travel down your body, taking in your fancy dress.

"you look good, too." you breathe, meeting eyes again with peter, arms still holding onto each other. "is that my dad's tie?"

peter's eyes widen slightly as he looks down at his chest, pulling his arms away to fiddle with the accessory.

"oh! yeah, i, uh, didn't have a good one, so..." he trails off.

you nod, pursing your lips. you look around the room filled with adults wearing fancy suits and fancy dresses holding fancy glasses of champagne.

"i have a plan." you whisper, pulling the boy to the side.

"okay," he nods, leaning towards you.

"we go and socialize with the avengers to make sure they know we're here, and then we ditch."

"and go where?"

"i don't know? uh, anywhere else?" you shrug.

peter stares at you for a moment before nodding, following you to the group of heroes. lucky for you, they had all grouped together at the bar, making your job much easier.

"hi." you greet, standing next to natasha as everyone focuses on you and peter.

"oh, look! the two young children who happen to be in love are here!" thor smiles.

everyone laughs as both your and peter's faces burn up and you wrap your arms around yourself uncomfortably. nat gives you a nudge, making you groan.

"do you want me to take over your brain right now? cause i gladly will." you say, raising your eyebrows.

"oh, damn, i ain't messing with that. she's scary." sam comments.

a small smile grows on your face from sam's comment as your gaze shifts over to peter, who's standing uncomfortably next to you. you suck in a breath.

"okay, uh, we're gonna go get food." you blurt, grabbing peter by the arm and pulling him towards the food table, glancing back at the group of avengers.

"they're really, erm, persistent, about that," peter mutters, grabbing a chip and stuffing it in his mouth. you nod, shifting on your feet.

"yeah," you whisper. "do- did you wanna go now?"

"y-yeah." peter nods.

a grin grows on your face as the two of you discretely make your way through the crowd and to the back doors. what you didn't know was that the rest of the avengers were watching you, celebrating, as this was what they were hoping was going to happen.

you and peter slip through the doors and into the hallway, each letting out a sigh. the two of you stand there, looking at each other, unsure of what to do.

"wanna go on the roof?"

"the roof? like, all the way up there?" peter asks, eyes slightly wide.

"yeah." you smile.

peter grins, nodding and grabbing your hand, surprising the both of you. you give his hand a light squeeze, sparks shooting up both of your arms. you make your way to the elevator, telling F.R.I.D.A.Y. to take you to the roof. you arrive quickly, the cold new york air blasting you as you walk out.

the roof was decorated with furniture and string lights, a project you had decided to take on one day.

you and the boy walk to the edge, leaning against the railing as you look out on the city. a gust of wind hits you, making you shiver. peter immediately begins taking off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders.

"oh, thanks," you whisper, pulling it tighter around you before letting out a small laugh. "pretty cliche."

"sorry," peter laughs lightly, a blush growing on his cheeks.

"no, it was nice, peter." you say, looking down as you try to think of something to say. "so, uh, weird charity event, right?"

you look up at the boy, his deep brown eyes fixed on your lips. peter couldn't help himself anymore. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you to him and connecting your lips in one swift movement. the air knocks out of you before you regain yourself, pulling your hands around his neck, kissing the boy back as sparks go off in your stomach. you hold each other closer, wrapping your fingers around his chocolate curls. the two of you slowly pull apart, foreheads touching as you look at each other, breathless.

"YES!" banner yells, causing the two of you to jump apart, faces red as you see the rest of the avengers sitting there, bright smiles on all of their faces.

"did you all seriously follow us up here?" you ask, eyes wide.

"maybe," your dad shrugs, "we even caught it on video."

peter gulps as tony swipes up a hologram, replaying the kiss.

"not cool, mr. stark," peter mutters, scratching the back of his neck.

"come on, let's go back to the party before the guests get suspicious." natasha says, everyone standing up and making their way back to the elevator.

you sigh, glancing at peter with a small smile before walking to natasha, the woman giving you a smirk. peter follows behind, making sure you weren't looking before approaching your father.

"mr. stark? can you send me that video, please?"

+ + +

i like to think that peter shows that video at your wedding

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker imagines #marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #fanfic #fluff #writing #peter #parker #thomas holland

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lubbuthedigitalnomad · 4 years

Text

A PERFECT PLACE

Happy Bob Marley BD (it was Feb. 6), Tibetan New Year (Feb. 12) and Valentine’s Day week! I hope you and yours are happy and healthy. Communications from America say that things are a little less crazy now that the election is over. That’s good. Even the most pro-American Asians were thinking we went a little wacky!

With any luck, folks in the USA will continue to take deep breaths and calm down. With a little effort, things will become less hateful and more loving as both the reds and blues start to realize that working together is the only way things will ever work at all. With that sentiment in mind, this week’s 1000 words are from the Fearless Puppy On American Road book, and about a time and place that remembers the more beautiful part of the American experience.

Once something changes, it can never go all the way back to what it was. In many ways, that is a good thing. We can preserve some better parts of the life we already had while allowing room for new and improved ideas. Insisting that both those new ideas, and the parts preserved from the old, are employed as actual improvements that benefit the vast majority of us has become the non-negotiable, essential responsibility of each and every citizen. Like it or not, it seems we will have to stay actively, consciously, and intelligently involved in order to insure success.

Please be well & stay well. Love, Tenzin and the Nepali Crew

FEARLESS PUPPY WEBSITE BLOG

FEARLESS PUPPY ON AMERICAN ROAD/AMAZON PAGE

REINCARNATION THROUGH COMMON SENSE/AMAZON PAGE

FEARLESS PUPPY ON AMERICAN ROAD WEBSITE

Rural Vermont

Helpfulness. Tribalism at its best. Everyone works together on everything. Lives depend upon each other in temperatures well below zero.

Hitchhiking is no longer just getting from here to there while barely knowing my host. Nearly every ride establishes or increases a friendship.

More cows per square mile than people, more open space than cows, and more forest than open space. Pronounced seasons and cycles. Cold, white winters. Muddy springs. Vibrant green summers pulsating with life that knows it only has a few months to do what needs to get done. Rainbow autumnal foliage so brilliant that guests come from continents away to view it. Streams clean enough to drink from.

Eggs come from happy chickens — not from the cruelty of large “animal production” warehouses.

Everyone waves hello to anyone driving by.

There’s always time to speak with whomever you meet at the General Store or Post Office. There’s always time. No hurry. Life comes first. Being is more important than doing (once the doing gets done).

The only store in town is the size of five closets but has everything — food, hardware, videos, clothing, beer, and more. A giant empty cable spool acts as a table around which to enjoy coffee, home- made donuts, and the company of neighbors. A best friend makes maple syrup. Everyone grows incredible gardens.

I have spent a lot of time with four other people and five beers staring into the open hood of a pickup truck that was not in need of repair.

Wood keeps you warm three times — once when you chop it, again when you carry it in, and the third time when you burn it. Overflowing abundance lives here. Some folks want more. Few need more.

Theater groups that produce professional-quality plays thrive in the forests of nearby vest-pocket towns.

The purity and clarity of omnipresent Nature rubs off on its human inhabitants. Crime, violence, and assorted hatreds appear only in newspapers and on TV stations. No one here has seen those things in person.

The Town Treasurer has a sign on his office explaining, “It’s very hard to get away with anything in a town this small.” Live and let live. If it hurts no one, it’s legal.

Resourcefulness is a way of life. Anything you need can be built from left over parts of things that you don’t need anymore. If you don’t know how, someone will show you. They’ll be happy to help — even happier if you bring a beer to say hello and thank you.

Deer hunters and trout fishermen deny slaughterhouses and corporate supermarket chains their abuses and profits. Unprocessed foods, hard exercise, low stress, clean air, and clean water deny the medical industry their profits from unnecessary surgery and drugs.

Awe inspiring natural beauty excludes land developers and their profit-over-people motivation. Their concrete and steel are not welcome here. The industrial decay that would lead to profits for a large assortment of unethical folks in fancy suits is denied entry by the conscious decisions of simple, intelligent farmers in overalls.

There will never be a Wal-Mart or a crack house here. There are many guns. They are never used for anything but hunting food. People are constantly helping each other to build a barn or house, dig out snow and mud, care for the children, cook, clean, weed the garden, and feed the animals. Anything that can be done at all is usually done by a group, even if it’s actually a one-person job. Folks enjoy each other’s company. Except in the most extreme circumstances, everyone deserves inclusion.

Parties get thrown together instantly for no other reason than that someone feels like being the host.

On a Tuesday, my friend Mike told me that he was having a party at his house on the following Saturday.

“What’s the occasion, Mike?”

“The occasion is that I just came up with the bright idea of having a party. I’ll get out a side of venison and buy a keg of beer. Tell everyone you see to tell everyone they see. If anyone wants to bring more food and drink, that’s good. If not, we’ll be fine with what we’ve got, I figure.”

“OK, Mike. I’ll get everyone but the assholes informed.”

“Inform the assholes too, buddy! Who knows? Maybe if they got invited to more parties, they’d figure out how to act better and wouldn’t be such assholes.”

It was hard to argue with Mike’s logic, but then again it is hard to argue with much of anything in a clean, friendly village.

During those years of having a home community and base station, a lot of work got done elsewhere. Rest time there made hitchhiking across nearly every inch of road in Northeastern America possible. I probably hitchhiked as many miles regionally during this period as the number of miles that were traveled in all the previous cross-country trips. Each full month of whistle stops working for environmental groups and charities included many towns and cities. It included talking to independent business folks all day about various causes, sleeping wherever possible, and celebrating whenever plausible. At the end of road tours like that, staring at mountains in between long naps was more of a necessity than an option. It is a lot easier to burn yourself up on the road when you know that a perfect place to revive is waiting for you.

The focal points of the road binges included Greenpeace, Citizen’s Awareness Network, and self-organized efforts to help support a Mexican orphanage, raise awareness and funding for American homeless folks, and help the victims of a very severe African famine. The results varied. My little part as a team member in the environmental efforts worked consistently for over a decade at each. The orphanage and homeless projects I organized worked minimally. The famine relief effort worked very well. It involved a governor, two senators, labor unions, school systems, businesses, major league sports teams, rock bands, and more. Thousands of people in the Northeastern section of America gave massive help.

This is a short chapter, but it covers a long period of years. Eventually, my good friend who allowed me this cabin in paradise had to liquidate his properties. This put me back out on the street at age fifty. But for a while, my life was as close to normal as it had ever been. It included long term friends and neighbors.

Those years seem to have gone by very quickly.

About the Author

Doug “Ten” Rose may be the biggest smartass as well as one of the most entertaining survivors of the hitchhiking adventurers that used to cover America’s highways. He is the author of the books Fearless Puppy on American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense, has survived heroin addiction and death, and is a graduate of over a hundred thousand miles of travel without ever driving a car, owning a phone, or having a bank account.

Ten Rose and his work are a vibrant part of the present and future as well as an essential remnant of a vanishing breed.

Follow him on Facebook, Doug Ten Rose

Travel Adventure Books can be an excellent gift to your friends and family, buy from Amazon.com

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The books Fearless Puppy On American Road and Reincarnation Through Common Sense by this same author are also available through Amazon or the Fearless Puppy website, where there are sample chapters from those books. Entertaining TV/radio interviews with and newspaper articles about the author are also available there. There is no charge for anything but the complete books! All author profits from book sales will be donated to help sponsor an increase in the number of wisdom professionals on Earth, beginning with but certainly not limited to Buddhist monks and nuns.

If you missed the Introduction to the new book that will be titled Temple Dog Soldier, or would like to see several chapters of it that are available for free online, go to the Puppy website Blog section. This is a book in progress. You will be reading it as it is being created! Just like you, I don’t know what the next chapter is going to be about until it is written. As the Intro will tell you, this is a totally true story — and probably the only book ever written by and about a corpse journeying completely around the world!

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