#you can view it with him x another canon character or him x oc though
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I'd like to announce that I've created my first official POV playlist, free and public for your listening pleasure!
BEST ENJOYED WITHOUT SHUFFLE
#final fantasy vii#sephiroth#pov#playlist#pov playlist#crisis core#ff7 remake#ff7 rebirth#i made the thumbnail myself too :)#i basically just took a screenshot from rebirth f'ed around w/ the colors and slapped on a sticker#but im honestly very proud of this#btw this can be read as romantic or platonic#but i did intend this as#x y/n#you can view it with him x another canon character or him x oc though#i literally cant stop you#Spotify
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I mentioned this before— But the character Kyra was originally meant to be shipped with was actually Jamil. But!! After some thought, I ultimately decided that Floyd would be a better partner for Kyra instead.
Soo, take this post as me rambling about how and why Floyra came to be, and why I scrapped the Jamyra concept all together.
Kyra already had an established character and backstory before being shipped with anyone. Usually, I like to create the characters and flesh them out before shipping them with anyone. Although there are times where I do create characters for the sake of shipping (*cough cough* Jester *cough cough*) my process with developing OCs usually focuses on them as a character individually first, then their relationships with canon characters after.
And at first, I thought the idea of Jamil x Kyra was interesting. My main reasoning for Kyra x Jamil was the idea of it.
Caged bird metaphors for days, both come from somewhat similar issues when it comes to not being allowed to be their own person, ect ect. (Also, if you couldnt tell already im a SUCKER for Opposites Attract and Grumpy x Sunshine)
In a way, I liked it because they were so similar yet so different lorewise, having this strict set of expectations put unto them and not being able to act against those expectations— but yet, despite how similar they are, they ended up completely different.
And while it is a good trope— It just simply doesn’t work. Why? Well, because Jamil, putting it bluntly, isn’t the kind of person that would be best for Kyra. (ITS OKAY!!! HES STILL BIG BRO!!!!! I saved him from a neverending headache w Kyra LMFAOO)
I started to take into consideration Kyra herself. What kind of person would she want? How does she love? What kind of person would she be attracted to? What does she need in someone? Who would make her happy?
after having to bottle up all her feelings and ignoring her own desires and wants— Kyra needs someone that would support her.
She doesn’t need nor wants someone to stop her from doing the things that she does, what she needs is someone to support her. And I doubt that Jamil would be supportive of her shennanigans LMAOO 😭
Then I got to thinking, if not Jamil who else could I ship her with ??
Then I realized, “Oh, Floyd would be perfect, wouldn’t he?”
Now, Floyd has always been my favorite character from TWST! But I just didnt want to be biased and miss out on good ship material with another character😭 funny how it worked out though WHAHAHA
Not only would Floyd support her shennanigans— he’d encourage her to do it. And while that probably isn’t the best in some cases, Kyra definetly deserves someone that would support her actual wants after all this time.
I mentioned this before, but Kyra sees alot of herself in Floyd. Yeah, they are weirdly similar (and that actually was not planned), and thats exactly the reason why Kyra was ever attracted to Floyd in the first place. (In general, not even romantically lmao)
And seeing him show all of these traits without a care in the world, to act out on what he feels and what he wants, it encourages her to do the same. And it encourages her to be herself even more, which is exactly what she needs!
There are still times Kyra is hesitant to do things, old habits die hard, but Floyd just being himself is enough to encourage Kyra to do the same. He influences her in a way others view as “bad”, but for someone like Kyra, its honestly the best for her.
Not only that, but I personally see Floyd as the kind of person to not really care about looks. Yeah, he can see when someone’s attractive and he acknowledges it, but he really does not care 😭
In my opinion, he values personality much more. Anyone who can entertain him or whoever he deems “fun”.
Kyra has never been seen for anything other than her beauty. Always seen but never heard. And while Floyd does think shes pretty… He really didn’t care about that when they first met LMAOO
It would be refreshing for Kyra to have someone who actually didn’t care all that much for her appearance. Instead hanging out with her for her personality. She was so used to men always sticking by her because of her pretty face that it was a breath of fresh air when she realized that Floyd wasn’t like that, and they were just genuinely friends.
The fact that Floyd doesnt care about appearances at all shouldn’t really be a big deal, but Kyra would be OVER THE MOON about it.
“Ah, I don’t care about that sorta thing. If you were boring, I would’ve ditched you a long time ago, hahaha!” And now suddenly Kyra is swooning and fanning herself and getting weak in the knees and blushing and giggling and kicking her feet and twirling her hair and—💥💥💥
Kyra needs a best friend in a partner. Someone that makes her want to open up and be vulnerable, but also makes her loosen up and have fun. She needs someone that can support her and can keep up with her regardless of how chaotic and rambunctious she can get— and who better than the menace himself??
No one can keep up with Kyra. And no one can really keep up with Floyd, either (Well, besides Jade, that is.). It was perfect! Because turns out, they’re the only ones that can keep up with eachother.
While continuing to think on it, I began realizing that they were also similar in other ways! And they can definetly understand eachother because of it.
Two people who have never had anyone bother to even try and understand them, no one really trying to look underneath the surface. Thinking that because of that, they dont “need” anyone to. But when they find eachother?? AUGH, they realize it really does feel nice for someone to “get it”.
Floyd understands and encourages Kyra in a way I don’t think Jamil could, and so !!! Floyra became a thing!!! YIPPEEYIPPEYIPPEEEE !!!!
My perfect little weirdos, even if no one really gets them they understand eachother better than anyone else can, and thats all that really matters. Their similarities in personality and ideals that brought them together, and I’m really just a sucker for the whole soulmates thing 😭
While of course, there are definetly flaws— with Kyra’s secretive nature and both of them being somewhat afraid of opening up and being vulnerable, its also because of those flaws that they end up working together. Because for once, they found someone that can truly understand them, and they’d be damned to let them slip away.
Anyways !! Ya thats all , ty for reading my silly little yap sesh !! 💗💗
Tagging!: @screamintoad @taruruchi 👁️👁️ floyra food …
#🎀! yap#🎀🦈! floyra#theyre so in love and perfect and it SICKENS ME#i hope they burn /j#honestly I did Jamil a favor LMFAOOO#he would NOT be able to handle Kyra’s shennanigans lets be hoenst…#Its ok he gets Elena now WHAHAHHAHA#oc x canon#floyd x oc#twst#twisted wonderland#twst oc#twst wonderland#disney twst
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Heya there Ein! Question time for you! Have some Meta asks.
(ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧
For Kurumi
What plot points would change due to the inclusion of your character in canon?
For Kana
What headcanons/theories do you believe fandom would invent about your character?
What controversies/drama would your character incite in fandom?
Yui
What would be the ‘incorrect but wildly popular’ interpretation of your character in fandom?
and for any character of your choosing
What is the wildest crackship you can imagine for your character, whether in-universe or in crossover?
And this one's the last for the fandom OC ask! Thank you for sending this one Lix hehehe That last one was so fun ngl I hope my answer for that is funny enough!
Kurumi: What plot points would change due to the inclusion of your character in canon?
I already answered here! But to add one more, it would be that after Gokudera's debut/focus chapter, the next one would be Kurumi's instead of Yamamoto's or that chapter where they have trouble with this asshole teacher. 🫶✨
Kana: What headcanons/theories do you believe fandom would invent about your character?
I also already answered in the link above too. But I'll give you one more on the house! I feel like there would also be theories that Kana was raised separately from Kurumi for some reason. Each person will come up with different reasons for it that they would connect as to the reason why Kana grew up to have those types of vibes.
Kana: What controversies/drama would your character incite in fandom?
I have an answer for this here too! But of course, more extras for you Lix! 🥳🥳 It's kind of related to my answer to this ask actually, but shipping aside, there will definitely be discourse between how different people would interpret her character. I can see people causing drama and complaining if they see another person who's interpretation of her is on the other side of the spectrum. It would also be guaranteed that there will be those types of people who can't handle morally grey characters, straight up just saying that if you like characters like Kana then you agree with her views and beliefs shown in the story 🤣😭🤣😭🤣😭
Yui: What would be the ‘incorrect but wildly popular’ interpretation of your character in fandom?
I answered this here too! An additional one I can think of is that, I feel like people will just see Yui for whatever he's showing in the surface - a goofy/unserious character obsessed with robots, which ignores the other aspects of his characters and the layers that he has beneath.
Any Character: What is the wildest crackship you can imagine for your character, whether in-universe or in crossover?
LMAOOOOO OK I'LL LIST DOWN THE ONES I CAN REMEMBER SDBFHSVDF MOSTLY FROM MY BROTHER
Bel x Kurumi - Suggested by my brother who loves Varia. In his defense, he said it will be a Prince x Princess ship, which is actually pretty cute...in theory. Bel isn't really your standard shoujo prince, is he? hahaha Though I feel like they'll somehow get along in a strange way if they ever meet in the main story.
Mukuro x Kana - Another one suggested by the same brother, who is also a Mukuro GOAT truther. He said it's because they look like they're the same breed of nasty, and also in consideration of this one secret Kana lore I told him about. I have no counter for that but just for this one certain thing, they'll be each other's haters tbh. One of the reasons why I think he's lowkey trying to convince me to ship them is because he wants more Mukuro screentime in my arts and KHRe 🤣🤣If I somehow get into this ship someday, you can either thank or blame him 👍✨
Enma x Hiyori - Cooked up by my brother again, who also likes Enma. His headcanon is that those bandaids on Enma's face are from when Hiyori keeps treating him whenever he trips or get beat up by bullies. Lowkey cute????? I should ask for his other ships, though it would definitely involve Varia, Kokuyo Gang or Simon Family.
Hibari x Ryuuka - Something that crossed my mind when thinking of silly scenarios where TYL Hibari gets caught up in a time slip. Of course, this is crack because they live 200+ years away from each other dfbhjvfshdf I even have an old rough sketch for the scenario, though I didn't really finish, where he thought Ryuuka is Kana? He's very ready to fight her, as usual, but this one is always cooped up in her lab. Ryuuka probably thinks he's Alaude or Alaude's relative. Anyway, I didn't really think that deep for this.
#khr#khre#khr oc#oc#oc ask#einart#queue i can't put into words#sjbjhsvfhsvdfhds#my brother lowkey a crackship genius#also that sketch is so old lmaoo
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artefact - an assassin's creed au
For day 2, I uncover an Assassin's Creed Kenway family AU I made back in 2021 for an English creative writing assessment. Everyone was none the wiser hehe. I adore this one for its concept, if anything, because after reading it over recently, I don't like the style it was written in, but that may be due to my skills and tastes changing over the last few years. The whole AU was inspired by fanart of Haytham Kenway in Assassin attire, taking on the role of what could have been if things were different AND the clean version of the song We're Good by Dua Lipa (specifically due to the lyrical difference from the original version of the song). Each character's names were changed, but it's pretty easy to figure out who's who from characterisation alone (a highlight of this piece imo !!) - aside from Avis and Wren, a couple of OCs I entirely made up there and then just because. Let's ignore the fact I copied a section straight from the Forsaken novel, shall we ? I look upon that bit with unmeasurable disdain and disappointment. I've rambled enough. Have at it <3
Fic under the cut x
TW for blood and canon typical violence
Mist curled around his feet as the world constructed before him, a recognisable venue fading into view. The tendrils of mist dissipated, the draught and eerie ambience easing off. An evening chill nipped at the bare fingers of the man scouting the abandoned streets. His breath clouded as he adjusted the faint-coloured tricorne upon his head, collecting his thoughts, preparing his speech wisely. To him, this was a regular occurrence, a meeting pre-planned, messages exchanged to arrange it in secret. So far, it was effective and the opposition hadn’t the foggiest clue of the gathering taking place. To him, this was normal, this was business. To his descendant, however, this was wrong, all wrong.
—
Descendant: an observer, witnessing only the events that took place through this machine. He shouldn’t be back with this ancestor, he lived out enough of this man’s time. Where was the life he was meant to be reliving? Descendant could not affect space and time, though he could file a complaint to his team outside the machine. And that’s exactly what he did.
“Guys, what’s going on? What- what’s happening?” he spluttered, refraining a panicked curse, failing to articulate his thoughts. Wait… he could speak now? A rushed response from his female companion, Crane, clarified next to nothing.
“It seems we have stumbled upon some kind of glitch or something. I’ve done a couple diagnostics and- well… I can’t pull you out of the machine right now. It’s too big of a risk, we need to get back on track with the original timeline, but I gotta do it from the inside. I don’t know why we’re back here, with this ancestor specifically, since we were much further ahead yesterday. Anyway, my advice is to just play this out and see where it goes. I’ll work on repairing and rearranging the data, so we can go back to searching for the artefact.”
“So what you’re saying is the machine has glitched, and I can’t go back to the previous save state?” Descendant asked, a question too evident now. “Huh, it’s kinda like a video game,” he added to himself, forcing himself to make light of a dim situation.
“No, this is not like a video game, Des. A video game will glitch and often crash. This, this is more like you’ve suddenly discovered a secret level and you can’t get back to the main game until you complete it,” came another voice, more masculine, more matter-of-fact. Descendant’s other loyal colleague, friend second; his words. They called him Robin, believe it or not. None of these names were particularly inventive, considering being labelled after birds, but it was the best one could do whilst being a fugitive from a technology company that integrated itself so smoothly into society. Nothing was ever easy when one was dubbed as the ‘bad guys,’ despite being anything but.
“Uh, okay. So, does anyone know how this actually happened?”
“I don’t know how, but your brain is fighting the machine. I knew this could happen, though not like this. It appears your brain is subconsciously withholding information and is altering events to its preference. Maybe,” replied the technician, sharing her uncertainty and plausible theory.
“Maybe?” Not all took her words with a grain of salt though. A well-known fact about Robin was that he was quite analytic, making him sound arrogant and pompous at times, which got on everyone’s nerves. Especially now, when everyone was feeling pressured to repair the errors that had mysteriously generated before them. “Even your car is in a better state than your theory, Crane.”
“I don’t see you handing out any bright ideas,” she snapped, leaving no beat between Robin’s insult and her venomous retort. “Just play the thing out, Des. Hopefully I can get you outta this.” And, as the body of a familiar stranger, Descendant took his first step into a new world.
—
The roads weren’t well lit on this particular night, the only providers being a few oil lamps in the distance and the natural beams of moonlight, casting a soft glow on the cobblestone beneath Griffon’s tan boots. The resplendence of the streets at this hour were immense, considering the lack of bustle in the surroundings, though he hadn’t the time to appreciate such small moments alone. Missions to complete, people to report to. Busy, busy, busy. Much unlike the scene outside the venue.
His chin tilted up to set his gaze on the building’s sign, cautious about the headpiece he wasn’t accustomed to donning. To Griffon’s distaste, this was a formal gathering, one not appropriate to wear bloodstained robes to. Also not one to bring an arsenal of weapons to, which came as another reason not to be attending the performance. But one man can’t have it all. Fortunately, if the worst case scenario comes into action, he’d be prepared. Besides, he could use the bare minimum - his hands - to disable an enemy. He would kill if need be, if a threat presented itself. He was an adept in the art of death; he was taught to be that way. He took no pleasure in it. Simply, he was good at it. When one was taught swordcraft as soon as one could walk, this was how one would see themselves. This was how Griffon’s brothers-in-arms saw him: a talented death dealer.
Anticipating the unexpected, the killer disguised as a nobleman entered a whole new atmosphere.
—
“Father,” Griffon hummed low, eyeing the stage and surreptitiously taking his seat at the booth. “What news on the artefact?” Both his father and sister had arrived at the meeting ahead of time, varied reactions between them. His sister, Branwen, clad in voluminous purple fabric, gave a tight-lipped acknowledgement to her younger sibling. Their father, Corbin, much more forbearing and glad for Griffon to join the party.
“Your sister and I were wondering the same. How did your previous search fare?” His father’s eyes, flecked with steel, yet held such patience; this was a man that raised a strategic murderer. This was a man who could hide his true intentions behind a smile.
“Fruitless, I’m afraid.”
“Ah, no matter. Your sister, in fact, has found a lead.” Branwen smirked, arrogant, not catching her father’s stern eye as she did so. That was deliberately for Griffon’s notice, and hit its target dead on, a rippling effect of envy and fury spreading throughout his body. “Which is why we’re here today,” Corbin finished, setting his hands face down on the table. Griffon repressed a grimace. There it was. If there was one thing he could rely on about his father, it was that. There was never a family get-together without the mention of business. Not anymore, not since he was in his tender years. Corbin gestured towards his daughter and she took the liberty of presenting the information herself.
“A flock of little birdies told me,” she paused, winking at her own awful pun, “that an influential figure is in possession of the artefact. As luck would have it, they’re said to be attending the performance tonight. Which is exactly why we’re here instead of the chocolate house a few blocks down.” Corbin’s lower lip jutted out at the mention of the chocolate house, his mind set on a hearty tankard of ale, which would never come to be.
As soon as Griffon opened his mouth to further the conversation, a thunderous applause erupted from the audience, forcing him to cut himself short and turn his head. A woman cantered onstage, the band playing behind her incredible vocals. He was caught gazing upon her figure, though not out of lust. As upon her neck, was the artefact. She had the amulet.
This meeting wasn’t a waste of time after all, Griffon relished in that knowledge, bringing his boiling blood to a settled simmer. That brought him a sense of solitude, albeit a temporary one.
“Oi,” Branwen elbowed her brother to attract his attention. “Does she look familiar to you?” He squinted, as if his eyes could zoom in on the performer, who was busy singing something about feeling distant from an old lover and how they weren’t meant to be. Not that any of this concerned him to any extent, he was trying to determine who this woman was. Squeezing his eyes shut and opening them, he focused in again, using the gift that he was endowed at birth. He could see her now. And then it collided with him head-on. By the Spirited Eagle, it was her.
In an instant, she wasn’t any performer and these words she was spieling off were no longer meaningless. He cursed himself for how ironic this panned out. It could have been anyone, a wealthy aristocrat perhaps, or a corrupt member of Parliament, but no. It had to be his ex-lover, Avis, reappearing into the world after being declared missing seven years ago. Missing, that eventually concluded to the status of ‘deceased’ when he abandoned the search for her with reluctance. His jaw clenched, how dare she show her face again. His mind refused to register it, she was dead to him. She should be dead. Although, he couldn’t deny the flutter of hope that his heart manifested, that animated feeling he hadn’t felt in an eternity. No, he shoved it to the back of his mind, where the notion was meant to belong. For now, he’ll bide his time, watching, listening to the song that was - upon analysing - written for him. It was a song at the minimum, a message at the maximum. That’s what this was, he gathered: a message. A beckoning. He’d made his decision in a heartbeat. If he was being called, he was going to answer.
—
“Uh, we found it, guys. You can take me out now.” Descendant’s voice wavered, a tone of fatigue hitting his final word.
“In your wildest fantasies, maybe,” Robin spat over the intercom.
“You gotta keep going, the end of the memory is close. You’re doing fine, just hang in there a little while longer. I think I almost cracked the code.” Crane, however slight, was more optimistic regarding the conditions. Descendant groaned, throwing aside any composure he had in reserve.
“Okay, quick question before I keep going: who’s the chick? You know, the one that has the amulet.”
“From the scrambled data we can gather, she seems to be a past lover of Griffon’s, which doesn’t make sense because- well, his son- we already know the messy details,” Robin reported in a split second. He was in charge of linking these historic events, yet the way he pieced it together was unnatural and expeditious.
“Maybe this is like the whole ‘memory inside a memory’ thing, except this is more your ancestor’s dream-like state. Basically what I’m saying is that your brain is fighting the programming, but it’s not you who messed up the machine.” Crane pitched in with another theory. Descendant sighed,
“That’s a relief.”
“I think this is what Griffon wanted to happen, instead of what really went down.” She sounded sure on that one. Robin grumbled a few profanities under his breath about her speculations. Akin to their first spat, Crane told Robin to shut his mouth, before she sewed it shut for him and bade Descendant to keep moving forward. Which he did, to avoid becoming a part of his friends’ disagreement.
—
“Father, sister, if you’d excuse me-”
“So you do recognise her?” Branwen interrupted, with the air of a child who was desperate to know a secret. Corbin raised a hand to halt further questions, oblivious to their conversation.
“Do what you must, son. I give you leave to go. Bring us the honour we deserve.” ‘I give you leave,’ that was a phrase Griffon wasn’t attuned to hearing. Straying away from his superiors for an extended period of time had allowed him to abide by his own laws. He never needed anyone’s permission on what leads to pursue and whose life to put an abrupt end to. For years, Griffon had played the role of ‘lone wolf’, and in that moment he realised, he desired to keep it that way.
Corbin presented Griffon a discreet gift under the table: a feather-shaped blade that - in spite of the low lighting - winked at its new owner, welcoming the new partnership. The son grappled onto his newly acquired asset, testing its weight. He slipped it beneath his cape, to not arouse suspicion. He hoped that there wouldn’t be the necessary means for his blade to taste blood, nevertheless, it would suffice. Branwen intoned,
“May the Spirited Eagle guide your hand, brother.” Her prayer fell on deaf ears, as Griffon was passing through the crowds, on the path to success.
This path steered him down various halls, tracking the footsteps of his target. His advancements reduced the distance between them. Better yet, his prey was unaware of being tailed, giving him the upper hand. A wry smile contorted his features, drawing his hat lower on his face to obscure himself from any potential witnesses. He was able to detect her footfalls, his sharp hearing continued to prove valuable. Then, the rhythmic clapping of steps ceased.
Griffon skidded to a stop, scanning the surrounding hall. Everything looked the same in this accursed place. Panic surged through his blood, the pattern of his breathing matching that of a feral beast. I can’t lose her. Damn this interminable labyrinth! Unconsciously, he fumbled with the knobs either side of him, as if either would open and give him resolution. Neither did, as they were locked. On the verge of another outburst, his fit was prevented by a slam of a door in the nearby area. All his senses activated at once, bolting down towards where the sound originated, discovering a door in which the lock was absent. Without a moment to lose, the man shoved it open, coming face-to-face with the one he sought.
“I suppose you got my message then.” It struck him that it was indeed her. Back from the dead, Avis. Distance couldn’t deceive him anymore.
“Hmm, quite,” he replied, and he could never be so quick to sour. His sight went wandering from her complexion to the pendant resting on her chest. Her expression relaxed and she laughed, flitting a hand to a sunken-eyed pianist. They played a melodious tune, while Avis opened her arms, leaving herself vulnerable.
“Once more for old time’s sake?” Griffon was plunged into conflict. Every muscle yearned to hold her again. Still, there was that nagging in the back of his mind, telling him to drive his blade through her heart, to punish her like she did to him. No, he assured himself. Now is not apt. Years ago, he vowed that he wouldn’t be fooled twice. And he was going to stick by it. Stepping into her embrace, he needed no words to affirm that he was to play her little game.
They swayed to the music, the way they used to do as children. Whatever the pair shared in the past had diminished, nothing was the same. His hands crept upwards to her neck, her breath hitching at the contact. This was not a display of affection, in spite of her response. The dance was a ploy, his fingers were following his crafted method. His nail caught the knot of the amulet, having it within his grasp. The woman was almost distracted enough to dismiss the thievery. Almost, but wasn’t. Griffon’s fist retracted, coming away with his prize. Mission accomplished, or so he thought.
She wormed her way out of his clutch, an evident mark of betrayal etched on her face. The pianist hit a false note and sent a wary glance over at their employer, discontinuing to play once assessing the situation. Griffon passed the amulet through to the inside of his sleeve, putting on a ruse that he hadn’t nicked a thing. She shook her head, she wasn’t ignorant.
“You’ll regret this,” she said, folding her arms over her chest as if to protect herself.
“No, I rather think I won’t.” He reversed, exiting the room before overhearing the words:
“Wren, get the boy.”
Griffon had himself a new enemy.
—
“I ask for a simple trade, Griffon. Don’t make this difficult for yourself, or for the boy. Come on, where is it? Where is the artefact?” Avis barked, deluded. The wind whipped at her hair on the rooftop, an utter change in scene from inside the theatre. She was trembling, possibly because of the evening air or the young boy struggling against her arm.
“Father, help! Help me!” The boy began to sob, choking against his words, the lock on him tightening. The child was about four, yet intelligent for his age, much like his father. Griffon had reached an impasse: sacrifice his son for the artefact, losing the one reminder of genuine, pure love to save the world from being cast into eternal shadow. Or, save his son, surrender the artefact to her and fail his mission to endanger everyone. The kid wailed as his father devised a plan of attack.
His child, Corvus, was his treasure; a product from a feeling so broad, so true. His mother wasn’t present, hadn’t been for years and she wasn’t here, on this rooftop. She had remained in her own country whilst Griffon trained their son to fill boots too big for him. Irresolution struck him at point-blank, staring into the glossy eyes of his son to find some solace. What he did discover though, was that same raw strength and defiance that attracted him to his mother. Gathering these memories and feelings, he would use them, or at least try to. As much as he’d want to speculate how his son made it to the theatre, the clock was ticking so it would have to wait. The choice had been finalised, he knew what he had to do.
“Alright,” he called, keeping his voice level in the circumstances. The amulet was out in the open once again, a pulsating glow spreading over his hand. “Here.” He tossed the artefact to her, watching it skitter across the surface like a skipping stone on a lake. She released the boy at the sight of the pendant, scrabbling at the floor to repossess it. Griffon wanted to laugh: she always used to be his little magpie. Used to.
“Father!” Corvus scrambled over to his father, clinging to his leg with a leech-like grip. He caressed his son’s head, relief washing over him.
“Corvus, I want you to go downstairs, back to your grandfather. Can you do that for me?” The lad nodded profusely, already out of view within the passing seconds. He prayed to the Spirited Eagle that Corvus would be seen home safely. Griffon would have followed suit, but he had some unfinished business to attend to. It seemed that Avis did too, as she was facing him again, the cord of the amulet dangling between each of her digits.
“It’s funny, we’ve been at this for centuries - searching for these artefacts to keep them from the clutch of our enemies, to supposedly ‘save the world’. But, have you noticed, Griffon, that all it’s ever done is caused dispute? Wars that raged for years because either side refused to find common ground with those we deemed wrong for the world. Does it humour you that we insist on repeating history over and over? Or are you just as much of an imbecile as the ones you call brothers?” Griffon composed himself and denied himself the right to speak. “If we had an open mind, if we had it in our hearts to forgive our rivals for the mistakes of the past, would we be better off? Could peace be attained? But no, you and your ilk are the reason why peace cannot endure. You speak often of unity, but do you know its true meaning? Of course not, which leaves me one option left: this.” The amulet left her hand, tossed off the roof and began to plummet. Griffon stood both shock and awe of her action, seeing the glow dissipate and plonk into a stream metres below them. It was gone. Washed away with the flow of the current. He wanted to scream, thrash about violently, dive recklessly after it, but he knew it was hopeless. The sounds never came, nor the movements. He was stuck. More importantly, he had failed his mission, his family, himself.
“Aren’t you burning with a passion to kill me? Aren’t you furious like your brothers of old that I have demolished your goals? Go on, draw your weapon. Kill me.” She was goading him, that was all too obvious. Then why was it he let the thought in? Why did he consider unsheathing his blade? She wasn’t the woman he grew up with, she wasn’t the one he spent endless nights with. She was a monster. A monster who’s incessant ranting filled his ears.
“I’ll give you a head start,” she said, stepping closer to him. “Do you remember when we spent an entire night talking on and on about our future? How we vowed to live by each other-”
“And die by each other,” Griffon finished, the words programmed into his brain by the stain of a memory. “How fitting.”
“I’ve thought a lot about this day and what it stands for us now. Which is why I said that we’re not meant to be, that’s never going to change. So let’s at least agree to go our separate ways, huh?” It all clicked into place, her song. She had seen this play out beforehand, but how? “The decision is yours to make, but I think I already know which side you lean towards. I’ve played my part in all this, I assume you will honour yours. Let’s end this like we should.” Hunched over, she took a few more steps, being now in close proximity. Griffon’s head hung low as he procured the dagger from his cape, turning it over thrice before asserting himself. The artefact may be lost, but he could still finish the final stage of his mission. Applying pressure with the tip of the blade against her chest, he heard a squelch as he punctured through a vital organ. He was already lowering her to the ground during her dying breaths, focusing in on the crimson blood blooming from the void, his hands slick with it. She had space for her final words.
“We’re good,” she burbled before the blood spilled from her mouth, and the last of her life ebbed away into infinity.
—
“Wow,” Crane exclaimed, baffled as anyone else about what unfolded. “You’re good now, Des. I can get you out. Welcome back.” The alternative reality dissolved, pulling Descendant back into the present day.
“Man, that was insane. Does anyone have any idea of why that was so messed up? What kind of happy dream world was that?” Descendant rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of it all. In fact, no one could gather a clear concept.
“We don’t know, but I’m glad we got you outta there. Robin was worried about you.”
“I was not!” Robin defended, flapping his arms about like a crazed octopus.
“Anyway, I’ve rearranged the data and deleted some unusual codes I found while you were in there. We’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” Descendant gave his gratitude to his friends that had worked overtime to save him from another perilous situation. He lay down on a nearby mattress, allowing his aching muscles to relax. “By the way guys-”
“Yeah?” Crane shot back. The escapee of the machine spoke the words that were at the front of his mind.
“We’re good.”
#12 days of bee fics#beeboo writes#bee fics#assassin's creed#assassin's creed au#assassin's creed fanfiction#haytham kenway#desmond miles#shaun hastings#rebecca crane#edward kenway#jennifer scott#assassin's creed oc#songfic#old writing#tw blood#canon typical violence
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for milgram oc ask game ages 11 and 16 and questions 4, 8, 10, 11
Oh, yay!
4. Do they view their murder(s) and justifiable?
Jester is a pretty simple and straightforward person. He tends to view anything as justifiable. He takes things from every angle and isn't the quickest to anger. In a Milgram AU he'd be a bit of a frightening case because he simply could justify anything and feel nothing about doing it. In his regular canon this is beneficial.
Yet it'd make him the worse sort of person in Milgram. His whole stance would be similar to Yuno's.
"The fact I'm here and this is happening is proof enough that what I did needed to occur. You seriously think I'd get myself into this much trouble for what- Fun? If I didn't have to do it, I wouldn't have and the fact that I needed to is justification enough. There's really no need to talk about it any further than that."
Would be his only mindset about it and he would view someone else judging his behavior as a waste of his time. He's a pretty chill kid for the most part but incredibly picky about who he talks to and the opinions he allows to hold weight to him.
So, he'd probably be a standoffish prisoner if he were amongst a bunch of strangers. Not because they're murderers. Simply put he just has no interest in forming connections he doesn't want to and being forced to be around a bunch of people is the best way to make him not want to.
8. What do the voices of the outside world tell them?
"You're a really selfish person." "How could someone like you have the audacity to call yourself anyone's friend let alone theirs'." "A terrible person." "I'd feel sorry for you, but I know what happened to the last person who did that." "It must be hard..." "You seem to miss them deeply." "It gets better." "You did what you had to." "The situation was just all wrong." "I hope you feel better."
10. What is their image color?
Amaranth Purple- Amaranth would also be the flower most prominent in his birthday art.
It can represent immortality and means
"Unfading Affection" or "Everlasting Love" when given as gifts. Here's some facts about it.
X X X
11. What reoccurring themes present themselves throughout their music videos?
A lot of allusions to travel, small almost suffocatingly so rooms in large houses, superficial acts of communication that lead to increased loneliness, and a disdain for the genuine.
(I'm so fucking sorry i misread sixteen as twenty-six and I have no real explaination as to how outside of it's late and I was tired. So, now you get three ocs. I'm just adding this here to avoid confusion.)
Ah this next one may be a bit of a copout of an answer given that they are the age you asked for in real time but in their canon they're only nineteen. Hope that isn't a bother. Especially since I don't get to talk about them often. Despite them being one of my personal favorite characters to write.
His actual story is under reconstruction, and I haven't gotten to touch his character in a while as a result. technically it's being merged with another story.
Though if he did wind up in Milgram, he definitely would not be his age in canon which is why I went with his age by the current year when it comes to a Milgram au. Jester on the other hand would fuck up that young.
4. Do they view their murder(s) and justifiable?
"I didn't mean it, I didn't- mean it. This isn't the solution I wanted."
No. He does not. However, the problem was successfully solved. No one was satisfied though.
8. What do the voices of the outside world tell them?
"Your life is fucked up." "That's scary." "You deserve to stay in there." "This is just sad." "That's not how family is supposed to behave." "I don't know how to feel about this." "I want to forgive you but I also think it's safer if you stay in Milgram as long as they're not killing people at the end of this." "I'd say get therapy but that was part of the problem in this case." "Yes king dissociate harder. Reality is flawed." "In a unique twist of fate everyone here was so wrong that we've gone straight to a neutral outcome." "Those people kind of deserved it." "After a point a solution becomes a problem somehow you reached that point at birth." "Everything that could have gone wrong here went wrong. Good job team. Pack it up we can stop having things occur for this man now."
10. What is their image color?
Because I brought up a flower for Jester, I feel bad not bringing up one for Leyton.
His flower would be Azaleas.
Azaleas tend to mean Temperence and are used to remind people to take it easy.
"While azaleas represent passion, they also symbolize temperance. In other words, the plant reminds us of our ability to practice moderation — even when it comes to those things and people we love the most. You can still live a life full of love, romance, beauty, passion, and abundance while remaining level-headed and avoiding overindulgence. Self-control is a must-have in order to achieve stability and groundedness in your life. All things in moderation." X
They've also been related to family.
X
Something that generally makes them fit Leyton nicely.
11. What reoccurring themes present themselves throughout their music videos?
Persistence, distortion, power imbalances, responsibility, existentialism (primarily focusing on the right one has to exist and repaying those who made it possible for them to exist without question when asked), familial duty, housing, fiscal stability. Depending on his current mindset sibling relationships.
I'd love to hear your opinion on them. I love all my ocs dearly. Even though they're all a bit fucked up.
Goes up to reread ask to see if I answered correctly-
Oh, fuck you said sixteen! Damn it how did I read twenty-six. I'm sorry it's late and I'm still sick. So, I guess you're getting three ocs because it would be a waste to erase all that.
So, say hello to one of the specialist of girls,
4. Do they view their murder(s) and justifiable?
"Ha-ha, what a funny question. Do things people do need a reason or to be justifiable? It's such a immature way of looking at things... Guard, are you sure you're up for this sort of job? Not everything needs or has a justification you know. Besides even if I did have one that wouldn't make my actions any less objectively bad. Sorry, I'll stop teasing. Since I got what I wanted I'd say it was justified."
Yes, but no, but yes. If the ends justify the means then yeah she guesses what she did was justifiable but she also really has zero inclination to justify it. She's just an outcome based person.
8. What do the voices of the outside world tell them?
"You're not sorry at all!" "Your hair is super cute!" "How can you still be having a good time after doing all that." "Do you even feel empathy?" "You had way too much free time." "Well being raised like that what should we expect." "It's not bad to focus on one's own needs but..." "How exactly did you get what you wanted here this is a terrible outcome? It's a surpise you still have friends. I couldn't imagine speaking to anyone who did this ever again." "You plan to just go back and what pretend you didn't do all that?!" "YOU STILL HAVE AN ACTING CAREER BITCH! HOW?! I LOSE JOBS FOR JUST BREATHING WRONG AND YOU'RE STILL EMPLOYED!" "This is gonna be bad to say but I'm ultimately just impressed at the level of thought put into this at this point. I mean instead of being normal you truly went fuck it I'll escalate this further. Really went we can be insane together." "How the fuck is he not here- oh wait... Yeah, he's the victim." "I know voting innocent isn't going to make her better but she had me at 'Dead and gone- Oh she's crazy my love's eternal but you'll fade quickly'. I'm not fixing this I want her to get worse actually." "She's soooo normal." "This is what he would've wanted." "Toxic heteronormativity sweep!" "What you and your victim had was special. You both made each other so much worse and I have no doubt there's a universe in which he's here instead of you."
(Side note there is. If being worse was a contact sport James and Luna would be the worlds best team even though they're actually shown to be quite reasonable in their respective canons. They're both really susceptible to living in extremes. The only thing that leveled these two out was putting them in a polyamorous relationship with the nearest individual with a moral compass. However in a Milgram au one of them must be dead for the other to be here and they never spoke to that third person.)
10. What is their image color?
Her flower is Orchid the white variety mainly.
X
11. What reoccurring themes present themselves throughout their music videos?
The sun (in it's many forms but mainly sunlight), lack of presence, authenticity, boredom, extreme thrill seeking behavior, the feeling that there's only one opinion that matters and it's not the audience's or hers, contentment, memories.
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INTRO POST
‟This site appears to be quite popular, and it was Gevanni's suggestion that a blog for myself should be set up.
I must admit, it certainly is easier than being bombarded by questions from news outlets and crazily-obsessed fans. Though, I doubt I will see a shortage of the latter from my time here...⹂
- N.
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・° ⊹ . +A quick forewarning . . .
╰┈➤ This RP blog is for the mod's personal interpretation of Near from their Death Note AU/alternate universe - meaning some events that happened in the original source material either: occurred differently OR never happened at all (this also includes details about characters, such as Near himself). In other words, it's not very canon-compliant.
➺ Another thing worth mentioning is that this is also a blog for *post-canon* Near, set after the events of the 2020 oneshot (otherwise known as the A-Kira Story).
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・° ⊹ . +Rules . . .
╰┈➤ As the mod is 18, suggestive asks and jokes are fine (as long as they're directed to the character). However, outright NSFW (whether it be an ask or a full RP) isn't. I'd prefer if minors DON'T send me these kinds of things, thank you.
➺ Anon hate and just generally being rude for no reason is greatly discouraged. Please take that someplace else (or just don't say it. Period.)
➺ This blog is going to have mentions of OC x Canon and anything along those lines. If that's not your thing, then feel free to not interact (or block, whatever works for you.)
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・° ⊹ . +Info about Near . . .
╰┈➤ He uses he / they / it pronouns, and identifies as a trans man. He also identifies as acespec gay.
➺ His full name is Nathaniel Xavier Lawliet, unlike canon, but you *can* call him Nate (or any nickname derived from his first name).
➺ Instead of going by "L", he goes by "N" (following the pattern of major detectives in the plot going by the first letter of their own names, established in the AU mentioned earlier in this post).
➺ Mello is his older (biological) brother, while L is their adoptive father. They do have other family members, such as L's fiancé and his other kid, so they'll likely be mentioned as well.
➺ A slightly bigger difference from canon is that he's currently 32 years old. He was slightly older after the timeskip in the main plot - however, the 10 years after the conclusion of the Kira case (in other words, when the 2020 oneshot takes place) remains the same.
➺ He's mixed. More specifically, he's Thai & British. Of course, all his posts will be in English.
➺ He is in a relationship with an OC belonging to the mod, named Viera. It's incredibly possible that Near will end up talking about her, as she happens to be his wife and he ADORES her so very much (and vice versa). It'd be correct to say that he enjoys spending time with her more than attending his own interviews...
➺ He views the SPK as sort of like extended family, even if they're still his coworkers at the end of the day.
➺ He loves his pet cats a lot.
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》 Headcanons : [COMING SOON]
》 Backstory : [COMING SOON]
》 Relationships : [COMING SOON]
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・° ⊹ . +Info about the mod . . .
╰┈➤ You can call me Imrys (Emrys also works) or Ambrose. I use he / they / it pronouns.
➺ I struggle with reading tone sometimes, so adding tonetags (if it's a joke, etc.) is appreciated.
➺ Another RP blog that I've made is @ask-mattjeevas , feel free to follow over there too. I have other blogs in progress, and I honestly can't wait to start RPing with them.
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Some Thoughts on Saiki K(Anime)
Watched Saiki K recently
Hopefully will look at the manga soon and watch the dub
I don’t necessarily ship Saiki with anyone but it’s definitely implied that he likes or has some type of interest in Teruhashi
Again I’ve only watch the anime so I could be wrong but I kinda wish Teru started showing a bit more of her true personality and then maybe I would like the ship more
Kinda already know Aiura probably wasn’t even a contender and just seemed plopped in kinda wish she had more screen time and was more of a rival to Teru
It’s a gag anime so I actually don’t mind the tropes for once maybe it’s because it not a serious story if that makes any sense? Don’t get me wrong Teru brother and absolute vile freak💀 maybe it’s because I don’t see him often
I hate pervert tropes but I enjoyed this anime again I think it’s because it’s a gag anime that’s why
My only lil gripe is how dark skin / black characters are shown as per usual (I’m aware that Aiura is tan and a gyaru, I am also talking about the one black character in the background, always a damn jump scare , sucks honestly)
I also think Aiura should of also came to the realization of what Saiki type is and be true to herself if she’s intended to also be his love interest
Even though it’s obvious he and Teru would be together in the end I still kinda wish for more for my girl
(Also don’t really get the Teru hate, I’m aware why but to some ends it seems a bit extreme imo, again I would like Teru x Saiki more if more of her true personality came out and didn’t always have to be so perfect at least around the gang)
(Also kinda want to head canon Aiura as blasian 🫣, again I’m aware it’s a gag manga but I kinda want a sub plot where she possibly struggles with the negativity surrounding gyaru culture and maybe darker skin. Idk I think it would be a good plot for her and Saiki to be a bit closer and a little more understanding between the two, I’m just spit balling here)
The discussion of how Black and darker skin characters are viewed and written in media is a topic for another day just wanted to share my thoughts
Any thoughts or headcanons you guys might have?
My brain needs more content lol could be about ships and why you like them too just be respectful
You can actually send some to my ask box if you want or just replies
Please help me feed my brain
Also kinda sorta want to make an oc🫣
Probably will never post it but just to give myself more content
Edit: Oooh also when Teru and Aiura swap styles
I wish that maybe Airua not jealous of how Teru looked but how she’s perceived if you know what I mean
Aiura will always acknowledge that Teru looks good no matter the style that’s a fact, but I think she would notice how different she’s treated
Like Teru is trying to copy her style but no one really treats her differently than before and that kind of sucks you know?
Styles that are usually look down upon and always get hate but then get praised when a conventionally attractive person by society norms does it and then its cool and trendy. Maybe Aiura notices and feels some type of way
She does not hate Teru
Maybe I’m projecting but it happens a lot especially when it comes to black culture and it’s frustrating(yes I’m aware she isn’t black just something I noticed)
BIG BOY EDIT #2 12/28/24
It’s been a while and I have no sense of time
I’ve seen some people liking my Saiki K posts and rn I’m suffering a bad art burnout and the stress of a temporary move, so I just want to do another quick ramble
To back track on my previous statement on how Aiura should have also came to the realization of Saik’s type is redundant because she already knows and is her authentic self already.
Though it is funny that she also tried to be more like Teru but she also enjoyed doing it a bit (This could also lead into the sub plot I talked about earlier with Aiura being depressed about how she’s perceived and Saiki in his own weird way comforting her)
This may be projecting myself on to Saiki and it’s probably the reason why I don’t ship him with anyone
But I view him more as a aroace Demi (like myself, I’m still unsure about labels but this is what best fits me)
I think it would be so funny for him to end up having a crush on someone while being a the tsundere he is with no idea how to go about it
Since it’s a gag anime that could lead to so many gags lol. Especially if that person knows of his powers, I can just imagine just teleporting away because he’s too flustered around them lmao
Maybe then he’ll truly feel like a teenager
This is also an excuse for me to make an oc (sorry I’m a little bias)
Saiki has a lot of weight on his shoulders and I think a partner who can realice some of that weight would be the best for him
(Maybe take charge for a bit)
A partner that can treat him like he’s normal
(If you want angst he probably just feels happy that he found someone who treats him normally and thinks he in love but it was just a puppy crush and wasn’t actually in love just liked the normalcy and goes back to thinking he’s incapable of love , the same can be said for Teru infatuation with Saiki)
I know a lot of people hates the fanfic tropes where the reader/oc has powers or the ability to block mind reading but I believe that’s a perfect type of person for him, the only way for a mind reading psychic to feel somewhat normal is another person who knows his burdens or aren’t affected by his abilities I would think. Again for angst it can just be puppy love if you really want that heartbreak)
Aiura and Tori still don’t really know the burdens of Saiki powers except probably towards the end of the series when they learn he’s been rewinding time)
I haven’t completely figured out what my oc is meant to be(also she kinda steals from gojos abilities because I also like the idea of curse spirits being present. Nothing too gruesome, like they exist and explain things happening like extreme bad luck with that one girl and what not)
The oc would be a foreign exchange student and will also expand Saikis knowledge of psychics. She is very spiritual, not in the religious sense but more in tune with the world around her.
She has meet many Psychics before Saiki and has a negative perception of him when they first meet
She may not have the same abilities as him, but she can help him control or dampen some of them
For example geranium cancels out his mind reading
Lead tends to block or mess up x rays I believe?
Since Saiki rarely gets sick(other than that mysterious ailment on the ship) he can completely block the effects of lead poisoning
(My friend been making me research crystals so we can also use those and test how they effect his abilities, basically looking for kryptonite lol)
I though it was pretty cute when Saiki temporarily got rid of his power he proceeded to stare at Teru
So of course he would probably stare at the oc who he can actually see for once
When she first transfers and he figures out he can’t read her mind blah blah
He follows her and she senses him and practically throws him up against a wall for it lol
She probably spews at him how she finds psychics to be a pain in the ass or something but she understands the wants of keeping his powers a secret
I know it’s cliché but is I’m a sucker for it 😭
Honestly want to make him my oc but there’s barely any changes I could do to make it different from him
I don’t have a name for my oc yet but I do have her cyborg cider man #2 hero name Goombay Punch girl lol
The oc is of West Indian decent(Bahamian and Haitian)
I have not figured out her homlife yet but she’s an insomniac
I thought about her having a step father or something (father passed a way peacefully, but I just might go with her staying with a family friend in Japan)
I’m thinking about giving her extra powers but not to the extent of Saiki
Ideas so far are shadow manipulation (I’m a sucker for it 😭💀)
Empath
Super strength (I like a girl that’s a bit stronger than the male lead 🙂↕️)
Knowing a persons darkest secrets (if I ever draw her I’ll expand on it)
Just realized I said she takes from gojos abilities but she really doesn’t other than seeing curse spirits
She does also where shades , commonly mistaken for being blind, wears them under the excuse her eyes are sensitive to light, but not really)
She is extremely tall though debating if I should make her the same height as nendo or taller
(Sub plot for insecurities with height and dating, even though she normally doesn’t care for stuff like that)
Tall girlies need love too(I say as a 5’3 bandit)
Of course she has white hair
I’m sorry it’s the only hair color I like her having
Come on a white cloud like afro is so cool
I don’t really write but I may attempt writing a fanfic(unsure if I would publish it or not I’m kinda embarrassed at the thought)
It would be cute to write a cyborg cider man side stories with all the characters lol
I probably would draw these scenario out but I would probably describe Takahashi differently
I.e. “fish lips”
The combination of him having a fro and those lips getting picked on doesn’t sit well with me.
So I would probably change it to broccoli head or something (still kind of picking at his hair but it feels a lot better to me)
Some animation studios tend to make racist caricatures for some reason even if the maga never did that to begin with for some reason???(Still haven’t read the Saiki K manga so I don’t know if it’s applicable in this case. I hope it isn’t I would like to have something I actually like without a black caricature for once is that too much to ask 😭)
Im so sorry for the run on sentences and grammar
I would rewrite it to be more coherent but I’m lazy and sleep deprived
Thank you for reading my incoherent ramblings !
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THINGS THAT I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW ABOUT MY FELLOW WRITERS
this is a super fun tag prompt list, thanks @orangekittyenergy
tagging: @sofancydancy and @senualothbrok
Right, let's see how this goes.
Last book I read: Pride and Prejudice. Had never read it before but the whole Tim Downie cameo got me doing it. Then watched the BBC series with a friend and we swooned something major over Colin Firth. I've picked up some other books since then but just haven't found the motivation to get through them. Looking at Dark Tower book 5 as well for the last year...
Greatest literary inspiration: I'm honestly not sure. My partner is the real reader of the two of us. I've enjoyed Dark Tower, The Witcher Series (Honestly still in love with Cahir from them), and Leaves of Grass is my poetry go-to. But inspiration, going to be silly but the Hardcore series by Andy Remic (RIP), is such a great series of books. They're not the most literary genius type books but the action is cool, I love the characters. They make me want to write cool shit too.
Things in my current fandom I want to read but I don't want to write:
Smut. Honestly, my abilities with writing smut are limited. I have no patience for flowery language (yeah I write poetry but I know what I mean.) but it means when it comes to writing my own smut it is very matter-of-fact and lacks what I'm looking for. I'm also very picky about my smut due to an annoying logical brain. If you say someone moves their arm and then they move something else I see that and if I can't follow it directly I'm just going to put it down.
You can recognise my writing by:
Lots of short prose-type sentences. I like the effect of repetition and I especially like writing in a more personal talking type way. I especially love to monologue so if anyone does recognise my writing it's probably from these things. I especially love writing anything angst, it's so therapeutic and I love being able to draw out emotions from other people. I can do this with sweet fluff stuff too but angst really is more enjoyable.
My most controversial take ( current fandom):
I hate the word folds. (Not fandom relations but still.) Makes me think of a packed ham sandwich.
Fandom-related though - Astarion fans can get pretty feral over their views of his character. I get it, Gale fans are the same but I've left groups over the rabidness.
Current writing mood (10 – super motivated and churning out words like crazy, 0 – in a complete rut): Currently about a 4 but it can vary depending on the hour and the inspiration. I completed the Nana story and now feel a little lost as to what the next project will be. Ideas are escaping me.
Top three favourite tropes: The whole "enemy to lovers" thing. I mean this in a 2 people who argue and fall in love, not as in the real enemies to lovers.
Star-crossed lovers, especially if they really are both doomed. Astarion/Karlach if she is going to burn up. I love that tragic acceptance. Give me more of that.
I like a loveable rogue too. Hook from OUAT.
Share a random frustration: AU fiction losing characterisations. Once your fiction hits a point where you could replace the characters with any other from any other series I'm going to stop reading it. Great, you want X to be sub, but if he wouldn't actually act that way in canon, why are you even using him as a character? It's AU, fine but then make it OC or use another fandom. Don't force me to read through 13 chapters of semi-ok stuff just to destroy the characters so you can fulfil the soap opera-esque drama that gets you the hits. I get it's difficult but this is my pet peeve. Rant over...
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OCs Jacen and Tiio
Just realized that I haven't made an actual post for my two Corrie Guard boys, and since it's OC sunday I want to fix that <3
These boys mostly show up in my Fox x Reader series but they might pop up in some other stories 🥰
Jacen and Tiio are batch mates and have been together through everything. They were very close with the other three in their squad as well, and got a reputation for having some of the highest scores in teamwork and unit cohesion.
Unfortunately their squad was sent to Geonosis for that first fateful battle, and they watched the other three in their squad fall.
Their brothers died without names, so the moment their natborn leaders started allowing clones to take nicknames, they named each other.
Their names are based off of characters from a random episode of a random soap opera their batch mate downloaded from the holonet when they were little. The five of them curling up in a supply closet to watch it without the kaminoans knowing is one of their best memories together and use their names as a way to honor their fallen brothers.
Jacen and Tiio knew that they may not be able to stay together once the war really started. Thankfully, Fox had heard of their high scores around team work and knew he wanted men like that for the Guard and personally requested they be sent to him on Coruscant.
(maybe Fox also knew how hard it would for them to lose so much so early in the war and wanted to give them a new close-knit unit to work with)
Now the two take pride in their positions in the Corrie Guard. They value their Commander's dedication to protecting others and want to embody that dedication in their own right.
Jacen embraced his individuality quickly, he has several tattoos: The symbol of the Coruscant Guard on his neck, lightning lines running down his right bicep (he misses the thunder storms on Kamino) and a matching tattoo with Tiio of a phoenix on his back, another tribute to their squad.
Jacen's personality can seem abrasive at first. He'll follow orders but does it in the most stiff, robotic way he can when they're given by someone he doesn't like (kind of a malicious compliance thing). If he thinks you treat him and his brother's well, though, he'll be very loyal to you. Once you've shown that you're trust worthy Jacen can actually be quite funny and charming.
(also, bit of a behind the scenes note: the spelling of Jacen's name is actually inspired by the old, no longer canon star wars books. Jacen was the name of one of Han and Leia's sons <3)
Tiio takes a little longer to show his individuality through his appearance. As said above, he does have a tattoo of a phoenix on his back to honor his squad mates, but other than that, he doesn't really care for tattoos personally. He does grow his hair out longer though and likes it to lay in curls around his head and down his neck.
Tiio is much more trusting than Jacen. More of the "give people a chance" rather than the "hold them at arms length" type. It takes a lot for Tiio to write you off as someone he doesn't like. However, like his brother, he becomes extra kind to those who prove they aren't assholes. He's a bit of a stickler for rules, but only because he views them as good guidelines how to avoid getting decommissioned or killed. Gets very nervous when Jacen gets snippy or mouthy with others and often tempers his brother's anger.
Tiio also adores animals, please let this man open an animal shelter, he wants to rescue them all!
I'm tagging the OC encouragement queen @commander-sunshine as well as @blueink-bluesoul and @dystopicjumpsuit since I think you two already love these two from their brief debut in the handmaiden's fox lol
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Ficlet/Drabble Requests for Puss In Boots
I'm taking fic requests! Send me your request through an ask, and I'll see what I can do and if I'd like to write it. The ask can be anonyomous or not- depends on what you'd prefer, and if I have anon asks open at the time. ONLY PUSS IN BOOTS FANDOM, NO CROSSOVERS PLEASE MAKE SURE TO CHECK BLOG DESCRIPTION TO SEE IF REQUESTS ARE OPEN BEFORE ASKING
There are some rules for it, however;
Relationships I will write both slash and non-slash works. Non-slash have no rules, I will write any non-slash relationship. Slash does have rules, however; Relationship must be adult x adult, I will not write children in slash fics. [As I view Perrito as a child, I will not write slash of him] No incest I do not write Kitty/Death or Death/Puss/Kitty, or Puss/Dulcinea, I am just not a fan of those ships I will write OC/Self-Insert x Canon, or Oc/Self-Insert x OC/Self-Insert [See Rule 3 for more]
Ratings I will write either SFW or NSFW fics. SFW is anything with minimal gore, no smut, minimal violence. NSFW is anything with a lot of gore, smut, and a lot of graphic violence. When requesting violence and gore, please specify if you want it to be SFW or NSFW amounts. Regarding smut, please specify all kinks/actions you want. Hard smut no's are; Urine or fecal play Anything underage or adjacent to underage [includes ageplay] Graphic r*pe [I will write dubious consent or coerced consent, but graphic non-consent is not something I am comfortable writing]
OCs and Self-Inserts I will write OC's and Self-Inserts, all other rules still apply to these characters. Please include a visual reference or appearance description, personality overview, some basic backstory [does not have to be character history, simply what they're doing at the time and why, as well as how they know other characters], pronoun, and a name, as I will not use YN or Reader in lieu of name. If requesting smut, please let me know what privates to write the character with.
Alternative Universes If you want something written in your AU, please include basic descripton and reading material [this can be sent separately in another ask, or through DMs]. If you want me to write one of my AUs, keep in mind that the drabble likely will not be canon to the AU, and keep in mind I may refuse due to not wanting to spoil major plot points.
I Can Say No I reserve the right to say no to doing your request for whatever reason I have, without needing to explain why. I will answer the ask privately to tell you if I refuse, and will try and tell you promptly so you aren't stuck in limbo about it [only the ones I accept will be stuck in limbo, haha]. I may give a reason. I may not. Do not throw a hissy fit about it- if you send a request, get denied, and I get a bunch of anon hate after, I will know it was you, and I will either blacklist and likely block you, or keep an eye out for familar sentence stucturing and tone to refuse future request I feel is from the same anon.
Communicate With Me When Asked I may answer your ask privately requesting more details. Either your request was too vague, or there's something I want to clear up, it doesn't matter. If I ask for more details, keep in mind it is not a 'no', it is a 'can I know more?'. If I ask for more details, either send in another ask, or DM me. I will save the contents of your original ask to add to the post if I do chose to write it.
Archive Of Our Own I may post your drabble on AO3. Whether I do or not depends on mood, and if I think it fits on my account. If you wish for your request to be gifted to you, include your account name in the ask, and I will. You do not have to do this, its entirely optional, though if you request off anonymous, I will include your name in the notes on the fic. Not all drabbles will be posted on AO3, whether you add your account or not. Do not request I add one to my account.
Just send in your request, and I will see what I can do! Make sure to include characters, relationships and their nature, rating and a basic plot summary. If your unsure, you can use this template; Character names | Relationship | Rating | Content | Plot [+ | OC/Self -Insert details]
There is no timeline for when I will complete your request, as I will write when I want, and finish it at my own pace. I am doing this completely for free in my spare time, and pestering me to complete your request will make me refuse to write it
This post has been edited from its previous state to increase cohesiveness and cleanliness. Rule 5 has been changed, Rule 7 has been added, Rule 6 has become Rule 3, and Rule 3 has become Rule 4. Another ship has been added to the 'won't do' portion of Rule 1. Further changes may occur to this post in the future. Thank you for your patience with it.
#puss in boots#open to fic requests#fic requests#writing#puss in boots the last wish#fanfic#edited post
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5, 7, 8, 10?
shipping questions || accepting
Thanks for the questions!
5. Do you prefer fast plots, pre-established relationships, or slow burns?
It depends on the characters and what we think would work best for them! Fast plots can work well if we already think the ship will be fun but still need to iron out some details about their chemistry, pre-established is fun for characters we already have talked about or both ship equally strongly, and slow burns can be fun if we're still unsure or if the thought of pining sounds especially sweet. 👌
Honestly, whatever feels the best for that particular ship is my preference, and since all ships are different, the answer varies!
7. What do you think of OC x canon ships? Would you play any?
Some of my favorite ships in my 10+ years of Tumblr RP have been OC x canon ships! I love them!
8. What do you think about self-insert x canon ships? Would you play any?
Mmm. Depends. I've done so with some of my close friends, and I don't have any issue with self-inserts, but I would have to be very certain that the mun clearly keeps fiction and reality separate. I wouldn't want to sacrifice keeping my character IC in order to bend to what another mun wants, or to avoid hurting their feelings if my muse doesn't respond how they want. Anything I write IC isn't personal, and I've had some muns confuse my muse's feelings with my own.
10. What do you think about poly ships? Would you play any?
I've only played them a few times, but I do enjoy them so long as it makes sense for my character! I view Vampire as being pansexual panromantic, and generally very open-minded, so I could see him giving it a shot to see if it works for him. Whether or not it would, I don't know yet! He's still rather new to me and I'm still figuring stuff out about his character. I would definitely try it out, though!
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i just wanted to say i am completely unnormal about your pardoner oc Samson
stares at please please please please loredump please 🙏!! i love ds so eheh
Hi! I didn't forget about this ask, I've just been super busy and now I finally have a moment to answer it! Thank you so much for asking, I'll put my thoughts under a readmore bc it got long bc I kind of derailed talking about Carim in general LOL.
Since Samson is a bit of a new character, I'm still going to be working on developing him for a while, but I can tell what I do know!
I have a very big penchant for all things Carim- the land and people really fascinate me, and I like thinking about how it changed over the course of the series. I tend to believe that by DS3, the kind of pardoners we knew before aren't very common anymore (although Idk if they'd be completely gone either - we know that worship of Velka kind of seems to have fallen by the wayside, but I think there would still be people out there devoted to her, maybe some of them still even having ties to the church).
My HC is that the Church of Morne eventually became the major religious and political player in Carim once Thorolund kind of got absorbed by Carim (obv more my personal HC than canon but I think it's not so unpopular an idea), and worship of Caitha (who we know is likely to be Velka) is prominent. I think whether or not the people who worship Caitha know or believe in the Velka thing is up for debate and maybe even depends on proximity to the church or personal belief systems.
That being said, my pardoner is definitely doing his thing during the time DS3 would have been going on, because he's in a hidden relationship with another OC I have who is a Morne knight. I imagine they met during (the knight) Percival's training period, and that Morne knights overall are very much expected to keep their lives wrapped up with the Church (since you have to have a certain dedication to the faith to even become a Morne knight at all). I also HC that Carim has pretty traditional societal standards, judging from their views on knight- and maidenhood and chivalry. I don't think they'd be too fond of anything that goes outside of their brand of conservative thinking, so I doubt any sort of homosexual relationship would really fly, especially for people who's lives revolve around the Church. Hence Samson and Perci keeping their relationship secret.
I HC Samson to be really interested in and fascinated by Velka, I haven't quite considered all of what his beliefs about her being Caitha are but that's something I very much want to uncover and work on bc it's something I like to explore with all my Carim OCs (I have a problem). Outside of all that, he's a pretty private, quiet, reflective person. He would rather listen than talk, which makes him very suited to listen to confessions and help absolve people of their sins. I could go into his ideas on sin and his more personal "relationship" with Velka but maybe another time lol. Unfortunately, his story is kind of fucked up and sad, bc Idk, that's just how I like it.
During the time that he and Perci have grown close, Samson has suffered an illness that would eventually be fatal, though he's held it off through the use of healing miracles only for it to come back with a vengeance each time. In the end, before Perci is set to leave Carim with his maiden, Samson confesses this to him because he's been keeping it a secret in order to not worry Perci. He eventually decides he'd rather simply die than have to live that way and especially without Perci, so he does pass away before Perci heads out. Perci is already a sort of cynical person, but this really shatters his spirit. I won't get too much into Perci's own thing, but he and his maiden have a pretty shitty relationship initially and she's quite cruel to him even though they reconcile and part later.
I'm sorry for rambling a lot :x but I really appreciate this ask and getting to talk a bit about some of this stuff! Thank you again!!
#ask bug#patchesenthusiast#my ocs#pardoner samson#percival the tear-stained#wish i could be normal about this shit lmao
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Blackinnon, a measured response.
Would update if more discussions comes out. This post is not for a specific person. If the statement doesn’t apply to you, do not take it personally.
If you think Blackinnon is homophobic, think again!
Here are the facts: yes, Blackinnon is fanon. yes, we are a small community. yes, it’s heterosexual. But does that mean we hate queer ships? No.
Some may think, “Marlene Mckinnon is not even a background character, why on earth does people ship it? They must be homophobic.” This may be a little shocking, but accusing someone of being homophobic just based on what they ship is an act of denigration. You’re just putting hate on other people’s mouth to make them your foe, even if they have no intentions to be so.
We can ship blackinnon and wolfstar or dorlene. Some of blackinnon shippers actually believe those can co-exist. So what is the problem? We can ship wolfstar or dorlene and not blackinnon or the other way around. It’s really based on taste and what they’ve read.
Shipping a straight ship is not an act of homophobia, nor does it make you straight. I could be gay or bi and ship blackinnon. It’s not a hard concept to understand.
I know a lot of people who hate blackinnon rant because they have a passion for their own ship, and I don’t blame them. You can ship whatever you want. But is it really necessary to bring other ship down?
If you have the need to rant and hate about a certain ship, make sure you use the anti tag. If you knew about the tag but still refuse to use it, you’re just writing rants to belittle other people in your favor. Doesn’t sound very accepting.
read more about my points on Blackinnon and sexuality from previous discussions here (x)
Seriously, though, WHY do people ship it?
If you genuinely want to know, then ask the person who ship them. I can’t speak on behalf of all the Blackinnon shippers because they ship it for different reasons. Some ship it for their dynamic, from the fanfics they’ve read, from the headcanons, from their view of Marlene, from their view of Sirius and many more.
For me personally, I ship them for two reasons. Their character dynamics throghout almost all the fanfics i read and, because in my mind wolfstar couldn’t work because of Sirius’s insensitivity for Remus throughout the books (i.e. The Prank, him liking the full moon, giving his riches to harry, his suspicion, etc.), and Frankly i think Remus deserves better. Shockingly, that’s just my opinion. And I have no problem with people not agreeing, but that’s what I concluded when I read the books. and the idea of Sirius having someone is nice you know? The flexibility of Marlene’s character is very inviting for everyone because they have their own interpretations.
Someway or another, you should accept that people have different opinions and interpretation. If you think blackinnon is unbelievably bad, then you do you. Doesn’t mean you have to leave a hate-post on their tag, nor should you blame them for shipping stuff they like.
Blackinnon is a very small ship. And if you hate it, you shouldn’t even bother commenting, responding, or ranting. It just makes people defend it, really. Some people love this ship and you’ve gone out of your way to make them feel bad about themselves. Why?
Marlene McKinnon is not even a a proper character
Here are the facts about Marlene McKinnon: Her name means star of the sea, she is a member of the order, her name is mentioned in Lily’s letter to Sirius, Sirius pointed at her in the movies.
A person that we know Sirius is at least acquainted/friends with makes her a blank canvas. As we all know, Sirius has no romance life in canon, so our options are very minimal.
There are people who ship Sirius with Caradoc, Benjy, Dorcas, Mary, Gideon, Fabian, and so much more. There are less hate for them compared to blackinnon and here’s why: Marlene McKinnon seemed to be in the spotlight because she is second to Remus in terms of possible pair for Sirius. That’s it.
Some Blackinnon shippers like blackinon because Marlene is practically a walking OC. She can be whatever you want.
But people tend to focus on the fact that she’s female. Putting that aside, Marlene is an absolute blast to read. Yes, she’s mentioned only a few times, but the whole point of Blackinnon is the possibility. Isn’t that always the case for fanon ships?
Understand the hate towards Blackinnon
When I first dive into Blackinnon years ago, all I see is hate thrown at them. The hate hasn’t stop, whether it’s from private messages or from hate-post.
The conversations I have with fellow Blackinnon shippers usually consist of the same things, “Why don’t they just leave us be?” and till this day I still wonder.
I’ve done my research, and really I wanted the results to be different.
There are many many many ships out there, using incest, pedophilia, or other stuff, and shockingly, it receives less hate from people. Doesn’t that beg the question?
Do people hate it because they simply dislike it or are they hating it because they have biased opinions about other ships. The truth is, (I’m going to unfilter- god protect me from hate messages) Blackinnon received a lot of hate because it’s the opposite of wolfstar. It’s straight. It’s not Remus. The audacity of people shipping Sirius with a person other than Remus! It’s the same argument for Remadora hate. More than 70% (not all ) of the people who hate on blackinnon and remadora, I observe, is from wolfstar shippers. (Yes, I counted it. I am a math god, and in need of a job)
People don’t have as much of a problem for Sirius/Mary, Sirius/Dorcas, Sirius/ Benjy, Sirius/Hermione etc. They have a problem with Blackinnon and Remadora (I wonder why). I’ll say it again, Marlene McKinnon seemed to be in the spotlight because she is second to Remus in terms of possible pair for Sirius.
Hating other ship to make your ship appear better is.... to be honest, understandable. But to tell you the truth, It doesn’t change a thing.
It doesn’t make me hate my ship. If your intentions on writing hate post is to receive approval from other people, I suggest you search for something else than the topic of hatred.
But, again, if you have the need for the feeling of satisfaction of speaking your opinion of something you passionately hate, then use anti-tag. It’s not so hard.
***CONCLUSION***
At the end of the day we have so much love for these characters, and our biases is only for ourselves. Can’t we just agree that although we love Harry Potter, we can also love different characters throughout the books/movies? There are communities for everything, focus on the community you love, not the community you hate.
If you got offended throughout reading his post, I’m sorry. But let me clear things up, I do not hate wolfstar, queer-ships, etc. I just like blackinnon, as simple as that. This doesn’t prove that I’m straight, or bi, or anything. It’s just what I like. This post is a defense and obviously not a hate-post. What I ask of you is just to leave blackinnon (and remadora) alone. Thank you.
I am doing this measured response so I don’t have to re-write everything every time people leave hate-posts. If you receive this from a link in the comments, thank you for taking the time, and remember that it’s not meant for you specifically. Disclaimer: Do not share this to people in anti tag.
Check out my Ultimate Blackinnon fanfiction masterlist here
#blackinnon#sirius black#marlene mckinnon#sirius black x marlene mckinnon#in defense of#a measured response#sirlene#marlene#sirius#black#i sacrificed myself#please have mercy#what was i thinking#im going to get hated#thats okay#ship whatever you want#how old are you if you still hate for fun#anti hate
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Don't Pull This Thread - Part 8 of 8
Series Summary: Sam receives a call to tell him that his best friend from Stanford is in hospital. He rushes to her side and discovers she has secrets similar to his. Sam and Dean help her seek revenge until they discover her life is bound to the very thing they are helping her hunt.
Part 8
Summary: It’s the end, but who wins and who loses?
Warnings: alcoholism, death, angst, canon type violence.
W/C: 7k.
Notes: There are 2 endings. Ending 2 needed to happen to make Sharing Dean Winchester work. So you can decide which one you prefer.😋
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Amelia Richardson, OFC, other needed OC’s.
Pairing: back to being in denial Sam x OFC, Sam x Amelia.
Beta: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes belong to me, before I knew better.
Dividers: @firefly-graphics
Master Lists: Series (inc. Prologue) // Main
Two Months after part 7.
Lexie POV.
I wake up in my bed in the apartment I shared with Sam and Dean while my broken ribs healed, which makes no sense because I fell asleep in a motel room in Delaware.
Sam’s flannel shirt. The one he said I could keep if I promised not to run away without saying goodbye. That makes less sense than the room I’m in. That shirt is tucked firmly away in my trunk and has been for two months because it physically hurts too much to see it, to smell him.
Sam’s clothes are thrown over the chair in the corner of the room, so I guess he’s around here somewhere. He will know what’s going on. I make my way to the kitchen, and Sam’s there. He has his back to me, sweatpants hugging his hips, t-shirt clinging to his arms, he’s making grilled cheese sandwiches. But there is no sound, no sizzle of the hot pan, no clink as he opens the fridge to get orange juice; I can’t smell anything either. I should be able to smell the cheese, frying bread, freshly brewed coffee.
I’m aware now that I’m not really here, that if I call out to Sam, he won’t hear me or respond.
A pretty woman with shoulder-length brunette hair and crystal-like eyes is sitting at the table. She has a warm, friendly smile, and I know she can see me. I’m not afraid of her though my skin tingles which tells me I probably should be.
“Hi,” she says. Her voice is light, calming, and sweet. I find myself somehow drawn to her, so I sit down across from her. “I’m Tessa.”
“Hi, Tessa,” I smile politely.
“Do you know where you are?”
I nod, I know I’m in my apartment, but I also know I’m not there. Sam is still silently making grilled cheese sandwiches.
Then the realization grinds into my brain like a hangover. I got back from Scotland six, maybe seven weeks ago. I found the witch, Sarai. I caught her, tried to get her to reverse the spell, but she wouldn’t; she was more afraid of Zak than me.
She told me Zak had made her bind her own life to that of a small child. Zak knew if I ever caught up with Sarai, I wouldn’t sacrifice another life for my own selfish gain. After three days of torturing her, I was convinced that Sarai had also been a victim of Zak’s dark desires. I let her go, only to watch her slit her own throat. The guilt and remorse she felt must have been too much, but her death only passed her guilt to me. Knowing a family had lost a child, essentially because of me, was more than I could handle.
I’d tried calling Sam, I desperately needed him, but he didn’t answer and never called me back. I had intentions of returning to The Roadhouse; I needed help to know if Sarai’s death meant the end of the binding spell, but I stopped over in Delaware for the night, and I haven’t left.
I am in a motel in Delaware, star-fishing on my stomach on the rock-hard bed, surrounded by empty whiskey, vodka, and tequila bottles. “I’m dead, right?”
Tessa seems relieved that she doesn’t have to explain it to me. “Yes.”
“Reaper?” I ask. Tessa nods curtly and smiles. Sam enters my view, placing orange juice on the table, and my breath catches in my throat. “Sam isn’t-”
“Sam is fine,” Tessa assures me. “I just thought seeing something familiar may make the transition easier.”
Relief fills me. Then the tears come, I’m dead. I failed at everything. I survey Sam moving around the kitchen. I didn’t kill Zak; I didn’t get Sam to forgive me; I didn’t get to thank Ellen, Jo, and Ash. I’ll never get to tell Bobby I’m sorry I ditched him or the reason why. I’ll never see Dean’s dumbass, smug smirk again. I’ll never hear Sam laugh or call me a nerd ever again. I have no one to blame. I drank myself into an early grave.
“I can move us somewhere else if you would like?” Tessa suggests.
“Can I see myself?”
“Are you sure?”
I nod, and in the same movement, I’m standing at the foot of the bed, looking at my dead body. I look like I’m sleeping, except there is no rise and fall to my chest. I’m too still. “How long have I been gone?”
“Three minutes.”
“Wow, you found me fast.”
Tessa shrugs, “I was in the neighborhood.”
She watches me as I scrutinize myself. “Was this always my end? Was this my destiny?”
I’m probably better off not knowing; it would probably be easier if this were always the way I was supposed to die. Heartbroken over Sam Winchester, unfilled revenge plans, unsaid words, then fall asleep in a drunken stupor to never wake again. I can think of worse ways to go.
Tessa shakes her head slowly, “no, it was an accident. You drank too much, forgot how many sleeping pills you had taken.”
I puff out a long breath. “I have so much unfinished business.” Tessa regards me sympathetically. “Everyone feels the same. Although, it’s more true in your case than in others. If it makes you feel any better, you can tick one thing off your list.”
I frown at her. I’m dead; how can I tick anything off any list?
“The spell is broken,” she points down to my lifeless body. “You are no longer bound to that creature. Sarai broke the spell.”
Tessa is right; it gives me some comfort, but I guess it doesn’t matter now that I’m dead.
There is a long, heavy silence. Then I have no choice but to accept my fate. It’s time to move on. I look hopefully at Tessa. “Will I see my family?”
I can’t quite read her expression. I think she looks proud, almost elated. “Tell Dean I said hi.”
-----
I jolt up and find myself in the bathtub, freezing cold water blasting me from the pulsing shower. The pressure is so hard I think it might peel my skin off. My eyes focus, and I wipe some of the gushing water from my eyes to see Dean. He’s sitting back on his heels, a tear from each eye sliding down his freckled cheeks.
“Tessa says hi,” I relay the message that’s fresh in my mind. He angrily wipes his face. “Dean-” the venomous glare in his eyes cuts me off.
“Can you stand?” he asks, climbing to his feet.
I slowly nod my head and take his offered hands to help me stand in the bath. He waits a minute, determining if I’m able to stand on my own two feet without assistance. When he decides I’m steady enough, his voice booms around the room.
“Take a friggin’ shower. I’ll be back.”
With that, he’s out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. I’ve never known him to be this angry, I’ve never heard that tone directed toward me, and it’s terrifying.
I strip off the drenched tank top and shorts I’m wearing, then change the water setting, making it hot enough to wash away the stench of alcohol and make my skin feel raw. As I start conditioning my hair, the motel door slams shut. I guess Dean has left.
When I feel that I am as clean as I am going to get, my stomach starts a hungry chatter, so I shut off the water and wrap myself in a somewhat clean-looking towel, leaving my hair to drip onto my shoulders.
I step out of the bathroom to find the curtains open, sunshine pouring in, the crack of the window allowing a gentle breeze to blow through. The floor is clear of all the alcohol bottles that were there yesterday. A pair of clean grey sweatpants, bra, panties, and tank top are laid out on the freshly made bed.
I take the clothes to the bathroom to dress, in case Dean decides to come back before I’m dressed. If he’s coming back, I hope he’s coming back. What if Sam is with him? I can’t deal with seeing Sam right now.
I get dressed, brush my teeth, and dry my hair. When I exit the bathroom again, Dean is sitting at the small table by the window eating a burger and fries. He doesn’t look at me, just continues focusing on his food.
He nods toward the burger and fries in front of the other chair. “Food’s probably cold by now.”
I sit down and dig into the food without a word. The anger radiates off him in waves. If I had a knife- if I knew where any of my weapons were - I could slice a chunk of his anger from the air and eat it like a piece of pie.
I’m afraid to look at him. I don’t need to look at him to see the disappointment and hurt in his hazel eyes; I can feel it. If I look at him, I fear I might choke on the fries I'm eating with the fury blazing in his eyes.
We both finish our food without talking. I’m on edge the whole time, thinking Sam is going to spring through the door any second. Each passing second he doesn’t, I become less anxious about it happening and more upset that he isn’t here too.
I haven’t spoken to Sam since we slept together. I waited three days before I tried calling him, but he never picked up. I sent messages and e-mailed him, but I never got a response. I kept all communication light and friendly, not mentioning anything about our last meeting. I hoped we could go back to being friends, which I expressed to Sam in my messages, but I had well and truly broken us. Things were never going to be the same again.
I lost the man I loved and my best friend.
I focus on my milkshake, picking at the corner of the paper cup, and Dean visibly inhales and exhales before he speaks. “You saw Tessa?”
I meet his eyes, nodding, “I was with her before you woke me up.”
“Woke you up?” He challenges, his brow raised. “You get that you were dead, right?”
I do understand I was dead, but now I’m not; he saved me. I test the water with a joke. “Guess I’m an honorary Winchester now that I’ve been brought back from the dead.”
“It’s not a badge of honor to strive for.” He sneers at me, “you’re a sitting duck here too. You’ve been here too long. You know better.”
Dean is scolding me, telling me off as if I were Sam, and I couldn’t be happier. It means at least one Winchester still cares about me.
“Not exactly in the right frame of mind.”
“I can see that,” he gives me a sly grin, “not enough room for the two of us in the brooding drinking ourselves into oblivion wagon, sweetheart.”
He called me sweetheart; his anger is ebbing. I manage a small, genuine smile and sigh, relieved he’s not angry enough to ship me off to Bobby’s demon prison for the foreseeable future. “Where’s- Does Sam-”
I can’t finish the question. I know why Sam isn’t here. I crushed him, so it doesn’t matter where he is or what he knows. I collect the burger wrappers and tidy up.
Dean continues my inquiry for me, “Does Sam know I’m here, or does Sam know you drank yourself to death because of him?”
I shrug and throw the trash away, “both?”
“Yes, he knows I’m here,” Dean explains, turning in his chair to look at me. “We were working a job with Garth when Ellen called, said Ash had a lead on you. I left Sam with Garth and hauled ass here.”
I lean against the counter’s edge of the small kitchenette and stare off into the distance with Sam’s face clear in my mind. I wonder if Sam put up any resistance about Dean coming to find me. Did Sam want to come, or have I broken him enough that he no longer cares?
“Let’s get out of here,” Dean suggests standing up. “No offense but it really does smell like someone died in here!”
I laugh wholeheartedly, and the sound is foreign to me. I don’t remember the last time I laughed.
-----
Dean drove nine hours straight to get to me, so he needed to stretch his legs and didn’t want to drive anywhere just yet. It’s early afternoon, and the sun is shining, so we walk, briefly stopping at a small diner to get some coffee to go. It makes it easier to talk, being shoulder-to-shoulder with him rather than having to face him.
He told me he called Sam when he went to get food. Dean didn’t tell him I was dead. Instead, he told Sam I was sleeping off a bender, and it took him throwing me in the shower to wake me. He didn’t say if Sam was relieved or expressed any sort of emotion about my well-being, and I don’t ask.
By the time I have updated Dean on the events of Scotland, we’ve found our way to a small park. Dying, not properly eating for a few weeks, and still having enough alcohol in my system to be way over the legal limit has me exhausted by the time we find a bench.
I sip my coffee, and we watch the world pass by for a minute. “I broke the spell,” I tell him nonchalantly. “Well, at least I think I have.”
He twists on the bench so that he’s facing me. “You could have led with that,” he chides, pushing my leg playfully.
“Tessa said when Sarai died, the spell broke. Does that sound right to you?”
Dean shrugs with a small frown as he thinks it over. “It makes sense; kill the witch, spell breaks.”
We sit in silent contemplation. Lost in thought, I forget my coffee, and it goes cold in my hand. I shiver as the sun hides behind the clouds. Dean takes my cold coffee and drops them both in the trashcan a few feet away.
He extends a hand to me, and I take it standing up. “Thank you, Dean. I’m sorry I-”
He cuts me off, holding a hand up. “Stop!” He has that brotherly advice expression, and his tone is serious; he’s giving me an order. “I don’t need you to be sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I need you to fight, you hear me?” He puts his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place.
Not that I could go anywhere, even if I wanted to. His fixated gaze is enough to hold me on the spot. I do hear him, loud and clear. The concern and affection in his eyes shock me into the realization that even though I lost my family, I’ve gained one as well.
I lost my siblings, Tyler and Cody, but I gained Dean and Jo. I lost my Dad, but I inherited Bobby. I lost my Mom, but I found Ellen. Ash is the crazy cousin everyone loves but can only tolerate in small doses. Then there’s Sam. Family is deeper than blood; it’s love, understanding, sacrifice.
Dean’s eyes hold mine, and I don’t ever want to let him down again. I don’t ever want to see the look of disappointment in his eyes because of my actions.
“I need you to get off your ass, quit the pity party, and fight!” His deep voice vibrates through me. “You find that son of a bitch, and you call me because I want to be there when you slice that fucker’s head off. You hear me?”
The first time he asked was rhetorical; this time, he wants an answer. I nod enthusiastically, “yes, I hear you. But it hurts Dean, what I did to Sam, it physically hurts. It’s not something I can stitch up, take a couple of painkillers for, and then rest for a few days.” I sigh, exhausted. “I tried that, and it didn’t quite work out,” I grin and wink at him.
Dean rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a funny smirk. “Too soon,” he jokes. We share a beat of silence. “Lex, you’re on the last corner before the finish line, and all you have to do is put the pedal to the metal. Then you drag your ass to my brother, and you make him forgive you.”
I yank the hunter into a hug. I shake my head against his neck, chuckling, “you couldn’t even manage one motivational speech without mentioning my ass, twice!”
I feel him shrug his shoulders as he reminds me, “remember who you’re talking to, sweetheart.”
A Year and a Half Later
Zak leers over me, mouth full of teeth, practically drooling at the prospect of biting me. I scramble back on my hands, my face flush with exertion from our fight. The handle of the knife is still protruding from the outside of my right thigh; the blade is so deeply embedded in my flesh it’s scraping the bone. My back hits a wall, and Zak kneels over me immediately. I recoil into the wall, expose my neck a fraction, to give him a sense of security, and simultaneously pull the needle from my boot, flip the plastic lid off and plunge the dead man's blood into his neck.
His mouth grazes my neck, skin breaks, and then he collapses on top of me. He’s unconscious by the time his head lands in my lap.
I waste no time getting to my feet, it hurts like a bitch, but I can deal with the pain later. I find my machete amongst the decapitated vamp bodies and return to his limp form. The squelch of his head disengaging from his body is the sweetest sound I have ever heard.
I catch my breath, staring down at his head before taking my phone from my pocket and snapping a picture. It’s not a sight I want to forget. Maybe that picture can wipe the horrifying last images of my family and Wyatt from my mind.
It’s over. It’s finally over. There’s movement behind me, and then I hear Garth, “what did I miss?”
Thank god he’s not dead. “Nothing and everything as always, Garth.”
I sit on the hood of my car and stitch my leg. The cut is deep and painful, but the bleeding stopped, so no major arteries have been hit. I can tentatively move it, but the muscle burns when I do. I’ll probably limp for the rest of my life.
Garth has collected four of the nine bodies by the time I’ve patched myself up, so I help him with the others and load them onto the pyre he’s already made.
He gives me the honor of lighting the fire, and I sit on the hood of my car, watching the bodies as they are reduced to ash. I call Dean’s number for the millionth time in a month. I don’t expect an answer or a callback.
“This is Dean’s other, other, other phone. If you have this number, you need serious help, so leave a message, and I’ll hit you back.”
“Dean, it’s impolite not to call a girl back.” I take a deep breath and smell the beautiful toxic burning air. “It’s over. You missed all the fun. I’m done, and I need to speak to you about that delivery of your brother. I prefer yellow bows, just an FYI.” Dean promised to deliver Sam wrapped with a bow once I was done killing Zak. I take another deep breath, “call me, please.”
The tables turned for me when Zak found out the binding spell had been broken. I became the hunter and not the hunted. It took a long while, but with the help of the hunting community, I tracked him down, and here I am with Garth, burning his body.
I desperately want to tell Sam and Dean about it, but I don’t know where they are. No one has heard from the Winchesters for a year.
The number I have forDean is the only one that’s still working. All of Sam’s numbers were disconnected about a year ago, according to Garth. I never rang Sam’s number. I had to finish the job before I went back to him.
I kept in contact with Dean as much as possible after he saved my life in Delaware. I know they were fighting Leviathans, Dick Roman. Dean’s numbers went dark about six months after Sam’s. Dean’s mailboxes filled up fast, and then the phone company cut them off.
Ellen, Jo, Ash, Frank, and Bobby are gone. I’ve done everything I can to try and find Dean and Sam, including making a Crossroads deal. I wanted to know what happened to them, where they were; the demon showed up but refused to make any deal. Crowley showed up shortly after and told me in no uncertain terms I was wasting my time and all demons were under strict instructions to not give me any information or face his wrath.
I’m not even sure Crowley knows what happened to them.
So now it seems like it’s just me, Garth, and a handful of hunters. Garth hands me a beer, and we toast to the fire. “Thanks for the assist, Garth.”
“Anytime, darling.” he smiles happily, sliding up next to me. “So what now?”
“Sam,” I tell him without hesitation. Sam has always been the answer to that question, what do I do after I’ve killed Zak? My answer has remained the same; I find Sam, make him forgive me, then spend the rest of my life showing him how much I love him.
------
The day after I killed Zak, Garth leaves, and I decide to take a week off. I need time to process that it’s finally all over, that Zak is gone. Plus, my leg needs time to heal before embarking on any long drives across the country. I’ve spent three days in the motel, watching crappy television and getting takeout delivered to my door so I didn’t have to walk too far. By day four, I’m going stir crazy. I needed to get out, see some actual human beings.
The walk to the bar is slow and strenuous; my leg feels like it is on fire by the time I sit at a table. After I take my time to thoroughly enjoy a chicken burger, I challenge two fiftyish looking Dads to a game of pool at the back of the bar. A three hundred dollar first round goes to me, then they go for double or nothing. It’s easy money; I can’t lose.
Five shots into our second game, I sense eyes on me. I know I'm being stalked. It’s too apparent, and I’ll give myself away if I immediately look up and start surveying the crowded bar. I keep my attention on the game. I tick off the members of Zak’s pack in my head, viewing each kill in my mind, seeing each face burn to ash. Garth and I killed them all, I'm positive we did, and it’s unlikely there are two evil things in the same town at the same time.
Hank, the better one of my two opponents, walks to the other end of the table to take his shot. It’s the perfect opportunity to casually scan the bar behind him. No one is a threat in the immediate vicinity; no one is watching me.
My eyes travel to the end of the bar, the best position to view the entire room; at the same table where I sat earlier to eat my dinner sits Sam Winchester. He’s gawking at me like I’ve got two heads.
“Keep the money,” I tell my adversaries, throwing my cue on the table and starting to limp toward Sam. I keep my eyes locked on him. I’m twenty feet away when a pretty woman with black curly hair wearing medical scrubs approaches him.
I halt and watch him kiss her happily in greeting, then turn her round to lead her out of the bar, his arm affectionately on her shoulder, her smiling up at him like a lovestruck teenager. I catch his eye again, and when I take a step toward him, he shakes his head subtly at me.
He must be working a case. I’ll blow his cover if I talk to him. I count sixty seconds in my head when the door closes behind them and then rush out as fast as I can on my bum leg. I’m quick enough to see the Impala’s tail lights as the driver brakes to take the corner at the end of the street.
Sam POV
Amelia called to tell me she had an emergency walk-in and that she was going to be late. I was uneasy in the house alone; I can’t explain why. I just had to get out. I send Amelia a text while I’m driving to the bar to tell her to come there when she’s done, and she can drive us home.
I sit at my usual table, scrolling through the news on my phone, when I hear her whole-hearted laugh across the room. I realize I’m totally off my game. I never once swept the bar when I came in; I didn’t check for potential threats. If I did, I would have seen her sooner.
Lexie Walker is playing pool with two middle-aged dads. She’s laughing with the taller of the two as they shake their heads at the guy who just took a shot. It must have been a really bad shot.
Her face is bruised, her left eye black, her right jawline is purple turning yellow, she limps around the table on her right leg to take her turn, and she has three long red lines on her neck. However, she’s smiling; she looks happy. She’s genuinely enjoying herself, and she seems lighter, free.
I see the moment she feels my eyes on her. She subconsciously rubs the scar on her wrist that Zak left; it’s a tell she has when she’s nervous. She waits a few minutes before she sweeps the room, waits until it looks natural and not forced.
Her blue eyes land on mine, and the air leaves the room. She barely hesitates before she puts her cue down and makes her way over to me.
Lexie moves slower than usual, whatever injury she has to her leg reduces her speed, and I can see the pain pinch her brow as she tries to move faster, weaving through the tables.
Amelia is suddenly in front of me; I didn’t even see her come in. I kiss her hello, then turn her around, leading her out of the bar, telling her I’ve missed her and just want to sit on the couch and catch up on Game Of Thrones.
I look over Amelia at Lexie and subtly shake my head to stop her from following me.
------
“You okay, baby?” Amelia asks me half an hour later when we’re settled on the sofa. “You’ve been a little distant since I picked you up.”
I half-smile and nervously adjust myself in the seat. “Yeah, I’m good, just tired.” I place a kiss on her head, and we both focus on the tv.
As the episode nears the end, I feel Amelia relax against my side. She’s fallen asleep. I allow myself to release a long breath. Lexie is here in Kermit, Texas, and I ran away from her. Why is she here? I haven’t seen her in almost two years, haven’t spoken to her in just as long. Not since The Roadhouse, I put her out of my mind. Dean and Cas disappeared, and I quit.
I thought about calling her, tracking her down, and telling her what happened with Dick Roman. I was so lost in my internal debate that I hit a dog, now known as Riot.
Riot raises his head and looks toward the front door two seconds before the doorbell chimes through the house. I hold my breath, and Amelia wakes up groggily. “Who the hell is that at this hour?”
I jump up and walk briskly to the door, opening it to see Lexie staring back at me. Neither of us moves. Do I hug her? Do I not hug her? How do I feel right now? Apart from panicked and ashamed because I’m going to have to tell her what happened.
“Lexie?” Amelia questions from behind me.
Amelia knows about Lexie; she found a photo of her one day, and I had to explain. I told her Lexie was my best friend, how we met at Stanford, that we lived together for a while with Dean, and then Lexie took off to explore the world. It’s not a complete lie, I guess.
Amelia pulls Lexie’s focus from me, and she shakes her head like she’s shaking off a bad memory, “hi, hi. I’m sorry to barge in, but--”
Amelia motions her in, “come in,” she tells her, smiling enthusiastically. Lexie crosses the threshold hesitantly, looking up at me. I hold my arms out, and we hug. It’s awkward and forced because we’re both nervous, but what else are friends supposed to do? Lexie doesn’t know what Amelia knows about me, so she’s taking my lead and covering my ass in the process.
I introduce the two ladies officially, and then we make our way to the living room. We situate ourselves in the lounge, Amelia and I on the couch, Lexie on the armchair. Riot has taken a liking to Lexie, resting his head on her lap while she scratches his ears.
“Are you okay?” Amelia asks, concerned seeing Lexie’s bruised face and earlier pained walk.
Lexie sighs like it’s no big deal, “trouble with an ex-boyfriend,” she explains, meeting my eyes. “But it’s taken care of; he won’t be hurting me or anyone else again.”
I smile proudly at her; she did it. Zak is dead. There’s a long silence, but before it gets awkward, I ask, “how did you find me?”
“Honestly,” Lexie begins a slight blush to her cheeks, “I’m in town visiting said, ex-boyfriend. I couldn’t sleep, so I’ve been driving around, and I saw the Impala in the driveway.”
Lexie POV
“I’m in town visiting said, ex-boyfriend. I couldn’t sleep, so I’ve been driving around, and I saw the Impala in the driveway.”
Translation - I followed Zak here because he knew where Sam was. Zak was going to use Sam as bait to lure me out or use Sam’s seemingly perfect happy life to hurt me. I found him before he could cause any damage, and I sliced off his head. I saw you in the bar, and I have been driving the streets for the last two hours looking for the car.
“Speaking of, where’s the sullen, cocky owner of said car?”
Sam and Amelia share a disconcerting look, and she reaches to take his hand. I want to slice her head off and watch it roll across the pristine cream carpet, watch her blood splatter the walls of their home. Home - Sam has made a home.
Sam clearing his throat brings me back to the room. “Lex, Dean is gone.”
“Gone where?”
“He died,” Sam says matter of factly. “Almost a year now.”
My lips move, I feel them moving, but only air passes them. Words escape me; thoughts evade me. Dean is dead, and Sam is playing house with some random chick. I mentally kick myself; this isn’t Sam. He’s a demon or a shapeshifter; I should have run the tests.
I have to get out of here. I have to leave without raising suspicion. Seeing Sam, or whatever creature this is that looks like Sam, has thrown me for a loop. I’ve completely lost my focus, let my guard down. I’ve walked into a strange house with no weapons and no backup.
“Are you okay?” Amelia questions standing up and stepping around Sam’s large legs. “I’ll get you a drink.”
I spring to my feet and jar my bad leg. “No, no,” I call after her. “I’m fine, I just - I should leave.”
I hobble my way around the coffee table, heading for the door. “Lex, wait,” Sam follows after me.
I walk as fast as my damaged leg will allow me without breaking into a run. I make it out the door without being attacked, and then I run to my car.
------
“Pick up, Garth, pick up!” I groan into the ringing phone. I throw clothes haphazardly into my bag, gliding around the room, collecting my belongings, and packing them away.
Whatever creature Sam is, if he has his memories, he will be able to find me. I need to get out of town, formulate a plan and come back. Garth’s voicemail picks up my third call, and I hang up without leaving a message.
I pick my now full bag up from the bed, slide my gun into the waistband of my jeans and put my cell phone in my jacket pocket before heading for the door. I almost collide with Sam as I step out.
I drop my bag and pull my gun. Sam’s hands are in the air immediately, “Whoa, whoa! Lex, it’s me.”
“Bullshit!” I growl cocking my gun.
“Lex, please. I promise it’s me.” he lowers his arms and pulls the collar of his shirt away to show me his anti-possession tattoo is still intact. I waiver and drop my gun from pointing at his chest to his leg. “Let’s go inside, and you can run every test.”
I back up against my better judgment but keep my gun trained on him as he follows me into the room. He uses my holy water to splash his face with no reaction. He cuts his arm with my silver blade, and apart from the hiss of pain as the blade slices his skin, he has no reaction.
“Now, can you put down the gun?” he questions, raising his brow.
I shake my head, “No. Because now I'm pissed that you are actually you, and you didn't call me to tell me about Dean!”
“I can explain.”
------
“So let me get this straight,” I start after Sam gives me a summary of the last year and a half events. “You killed Dick Roman, Dean and Cas went poof, you ran over a dog, quit hunting, and are now living the Apple Pie life with a veterinarian?”
Sam nods his head, “pretty much.”
“Did you even look for Dean?”
His downcast eyes answer the question for me. “He disappeared with Cas, so I figured that wherever they are, they’re together.”
“And if where they are, is Hell? Or Heaven? Neither are safe places to be for either of them!”
“I don’t know, Lex,” Sam groans frustratedly, standing up from the table. “I found an out, and I took it.”
I sit at the table and watch him as he runs his hands through his hair, pacing slowly. I don’t know this person, he looks like Sam, smells like him, has the same mannerisms, sounds just like him, but I don’t know him.
The Sam Winchester I know would literally move heaven and hell to find his brother, making stupid, reckless, life-endangering decisions to find out what happened. Instead, this Sam Winchester has settled into a mundane life with a dog; and it suits him.
“Sam,” my mouth goes dry, and I have to swallow three times before I can speak. “Are you happy?”
He turns slowly to look at me, dropping his arms to his sides. “I think I’m as close to it as I’ll ever be.”
My stomach twists, and my vision blurs. I put my elbows on the table and bury my face in my hands to hide my tears. This is not how our reunion was supposed to go. I expected there would be happy tears, angry words, and a lot of apologizing on my part. I never expected there would be my sad tears, deep, meaningful words, and the only apology would be Sam’s for not calling me and telling me about Dean.
I want to confess to being in love with Sam, admit that I pushed him away to save him. I have always been and will always be profoundly, irrevocably, in love with him. I want to tell him he didn’t just cross my mind from time to time but that he took up residence there. He set up a home in my head, and he was always there at the forefront of my thoughts no matter what I was doing. I lived with him in the fantasy as often as I could. I dreamt about him more nights than not. I cried myself to sleep regularly, craving his touch. I wrote him letters that I never sent.
However, I cannot tell him any of that now. I cannot utter a single word of the scenario that I have played over and over on a loop in my head, practiced in front of a mirror, because he is as close to happy as he thinks he will ever be.
I wipe my hands down my face, get up on shaky legs, and pick my bag up.
I grip the door handle before Sam asks, “Where are you going?”
“To find Dean,” I explain, over my shoulder.
I owe it to Dean to look for him. Regardless of where Sam thinks he is, I need to find out for sure. Sam can keep his life; I will find his brother. I will bring Dean back from wherever he is, and Sam can continue to find his happiness.
Ending One
Sam POV
“To find Dean.”
I stare at the space she was just occupying. I can’t let her go; I don’t want to lose her again. I run out and slam her car door shut after she’s thrown her bag into the back seat. She turns her back to me and walks a few steps away. She’s crying, her shoulders heaving as she snivels in the air between sobs.
I rush to stand in front of her, stopping her with my hands on her shoulders. “Stop, wait, please.”
She shrugs my hands off of her but doesn’t move. “Wait for what, Sam?”
“I need to think about this, to process.”
“No, you don’t. You made up your mind,” she tells me, swiping the tears off her cheeks. “You decided to get out; it’s a good thing. I’m not going to let you ruin that.”
I really look at her, at all her bruises, the glisten of tears on her face, the motion of her shoulders as she tries her hardest not to cry again. I trace a tear as it runs from her eye and crushes it between her lips. I’m envious of the tear that gets to caress her lips.
“Sam, I need to say something; otherwise, I’ll never forgive myself, and I’ll understand if it makes you hate me.”
I don’t say anything; I’m scared of what she’s going to say. My palms sweat, and I feel sick. She’s going to say goodbye, I know it. She’s going to tell me that this is the end of the line, and I’m never going to see her again. I don’t want that; I can’t deal with that. I throw caution to the wind, and I lean in and press my lips against hers.
The last time I kissed Lexie, in her bed at The Roadhouse, I didn’t know it was the last time. I didn’t know I was kissing her goodbye. We had just made love for the first time. I was the happiest I’ve ever been; then she told me she wasn’t in love with me. She said she didn’t feel the way I did, and I left. I never spoke to her again because I was broken; I was a mess. She wasn’t some habit I could spend ninety days detoxing from, I had to sever all contact, and that’s what I did.
Now she’s standing right in front of me again, valiantly going off to save my brother, and that severance wasn’t enough to bury my feelings, only hide them in a lockbox in my head.
Now I can feel her skin as I gently cup her face because I’m aware she’s bruised from her fight with Zak. I can taste her; beer, whiskey, and salty tears, that lockbox has sprung wide open, and I don’t care if she doesn’t love me because I love her. Lexie runs her hands across my stomach and rests her hands on my hips, tiptoeing to get as high as she can to kiss me deeper.
We both lose our breaths and pull apart at the same time. Lexie still has her eyes closed, and I study her while she catches her breath. Her eyes dart under the lids, almost like she’s dreaming.
I realize I shouldn’t have kissed her; it was wrong of me to do it. I drop my hands and go to take a step back, but her hands grip my hips. She opens her eyes slowly, smiling deliciously at me, “don’t even think about moving, dork.”
I feel the dumb, dorky grin in my soul as I lean in and kiss her again. She wriggles out of my kiss, gasping, “wait, wait, I need to tell you something.”
She takes a step back and waits until she knows she has my full attention. I don’t think my heart can take another rejection from her, so I drop my gaze and don’t look up until she demands I look at her. “I’m in love with you, Sam. I pushed you away to save you, and that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It hurts more than any physical injury; it killed a part of me to do it. I have always and will always be profoundly, irrevocably, in love with you.”
The tears in my eyes make her swim in my vision, and I take a step toward her. I want to kiss her, but she moves back again, holding her hand up, letting me know she’s not finished.
“You believed me so easily, so quickly when I told you I didn’t love you because you never felt you deserved to be loved. I know you think you’re damaged goods, that you’re cursed because everyone around you dies, but Sam Winchester, I have been in love with you since the day I met you, and I’m still standing. Can you forgive me?”
My answer is a passionate, all-consuming, intoxicating kiss. I push her against her car, and she yelps as I lean in and put too much of my weight on her wounded leg. “I’m sorry, sorry.”
She takes a few short, shallow breaths and tells me she’s fine. I stay pressed against her timidly. Now that I have her, I’m not willing to let her go. I pepper her neck with kisses, not because I want it to go any further right now but because I want to feel her skin against mine.
Lexie’s pain subsides, and her breathing returns to normal. I stand straight and look at her. “What now?” she asks, searching my face.
“We go find Dean,” I tell her with a nod before kissing her again.
Ending Two
Lexie POV
I throw my bag onto the back of the seat, and when I look up, Sam is standing in front of the car watching me, arms folded over his chest. I stand poised with one leg in the car, but I can’t leave without knowing, without telling Sam how I feel, without giving him all the information so he can make the right decision for him.
I walk back to him but keep a small distance between us, “Sam, I need to say something; otherwise, I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll understand if it makes you hate me.”
I wait until he meets my eyes and then take a deep breath. “I’m in love with you, Sam. I pushed you away to save you, and that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It hurts more than any physical injury; it killed a part of me to do it. I have always and will always be profoundly, irrevocably, in love with you.”
I’m talking too fast because I’m nervous and scared he’s going to hate me for putting this on him now when he’s found something outside of the darkness. But now that I’m saying it, I can’t stop, I have to tell him everything.
“You believed me so easily, so quickly when I told you I didn’t love you because you never felt you deserved to be loved. I know you think you’re damaged goods, that you’re cursed because everyone around you dies, but Sam Winchester, I have been in love with you since the day I met you, and I’m still standing. Can you forgive me?”
Sam drops his eyes and shuffles from one foot to the other. “I forgive you.”
I don’t want to ruin what he has. I don’t want to take anything away from him, and I know I have no right to ask, but I’m going to ask anyway. I exhale slowly, “Come with me, leave her, be with me, and we’ll find Dean together.”
Sam’s eyes meet mine, and I find the courage to hold his gaze even though I know his tears aren’t happy, relieved tears that I’m finally saying the words he’s wanted me to say for so long. His tears are pity tears for me because he’s made up his mind, he’s over me, and he’s not coming with me. I know it before he says the words, “I’m sorry, Lex,” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t come with you.”
He takes a step toward me. He wants to comfort me, but I take a step back, holding a hand up to stop him. “Take care of yourself, Sam.”
I turn and march back to my car, Sam calls my name, but he doesn’t pursue me.
Tags list info.
Don’t Pull This Thread: @miss-tricksy / @sam-winchester-love44
So Get This - Sam Winchester: @supernaturalgrandma /
Super Supernatural: @denimbex1986 / @avanatural / @deanwanddamons / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @flamencodiva / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @petitgateau911
#Sam Winchester#Don't Pull This Thread#Angst#Fluff#Death#Dean Winchester#DeanW#SamW#Reaper#Tessa#Alcoholism#lots of angst#canon type violence
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[TRR x ES] Viewing Party
Book: The Royal Romance & Endless Summer Pairings: Liam x MC (Katrina Bailey), Drake x OC (Alyssa Devereaux), Jake x MC (Laurel) Rating/Warnings: G; mild innuendo Author’s Note: * All main characters belong to Pixelberry, I’m just borrowing them * Katrina Bailey & Laurel are the MCs I use when writing fanfic for TRR and ES, respectively; Alyssa Devereaux belongs to birthday girl @burnsoslow * This is my submission for @wackydrabbles Prompt 80: Stop looking at me like that. * Author’s Note 2: * This is a birthday gift for my cheesy, potato loving homegirl Burnsie, who requested her very first Endless Summer/Jake fic, despite having never read any ES fic until now 🙈 for the sole reason being that she and Jake McKenzie are almost birthday twins, and my favorite pilot turns 30 this year. If you’re unfamiliar with canon ES trivia, Jake can hold his breath for 9 minutes, and Estela can hold her breath for an astonishing 14. This isn’t entirely what I had in mind when I set out to write an ES/Jake birthday fic, but I wasn’t about to miss your day because I’ve hit a whole ass writer’s wall, Burnsie! I hope you have an AMAZING day and I’m sending you so many hugs! You’re one of the sweetest ladies here, and I am so very thankful that I can call you a friend 🥰 also my real, real gift to you is coming at a later date, as I still have to work on it 😬 * and yes, that’s DDT in the moodboard - just for Burnsie, again - since I use Barnes as Drake’s FC in my TRR fics, lol * Word Count: 2000 on the dot!
It was nearly 10:00 PM on Friday evening, when Burns arranged things around the comfiest chair in her living room. The rest of her family already retired for the evening, after a small but wonderful birthday celebration in her honor at home. Within easy reach, she’d arranged drinks and snacks next to her laptop - a glass of water, a hot mug of tea, a slice of homemade birthday cake to take care of any sugar cravings, and a small platter of cheese and crackers for something more savory. She grinned softly at the newest addition to her mug collection, watching the steam rise from the contents within.
The lavender mug arrived in the mail earlier that day from one of her friends, emblazoned with a quote from David Rose. Burns took a sip of the warm beverage before setting it down on the small side table and situated herself in the chair. She flipped open the laptop and pulled up a browser window, smiling at a gift from another friend - there was a sticker next to the trackpad with a drawing of a wedge of Swiss, quoting another memorable line from Schitt’s Creek, reminding her to “fold in the cheese.” Burns glanced to the time on the screen and logged in to her Netflix account, clicking until she arrived at the viewing party, and began typing to join the group chat.
She was greeted with jubilant messages from Donna, Ella, Brandy, Anitah, and half a dozen other friends, wishing her a happy birthday before the show started. They’d formed an ever-growing viewing party for a new series titled Stranded in the Orchard, which was an odd amalgamation of Survivor and Gilligan’s Island. Taking a cue from reality tv competitions, there were hidden cameras all over the island to monitor everyone and reduce production crew intervention, and in a nod to Hunger Games, there was an omnipresent host that would drop messages to signal when challenges were about to take place. After four episodes, the ladies in the watching party started picking their favorites from the two teams.
Team Ruby consisted of a group that appeared to have been shipwrecked onto the island. Leo was dubbed The Rogue; his brother Liam was The CEO; Katrina was The Attorney; Alyssa was The Teacher; Drake was The Cowboy; Olivia was The Weapons Expert; Bertrand was The Grump; Madeleine was The Whiner; Maxwell was Bertrand’s brother and The Jester; Hana was The Jill of All Trades. Bertrand and Madeleine had already been voted off when Ruby lost two events.
Team Catalyst consisted of a group of mostly college students. Jake was The Pilot; Laurel was The Mystery Girl; Sean was The Coach; Michelle was The Doctor, even though she was only pre-med; Craig was The Muscle; Zahra was The Engineer; Aleister was The Slick One; Grace was The Brain; Diego was The Entertainer; Estela was The Huntress. Catalyst lost the last two events, which sent Aleister and Grace packing.
Everyone settled in to watch the opening credits as they recapped last week’s episode, where Ruby won the immunity challenge and fishing gear by building a makeshift stretcher to rescue and carry Katrina from a jungle crash site to a first aid station on the beach; Catalyst voted Grace out. Burns popped a cheese cube into her mouth as she and her friends watched the two groups deal with day-to-day chores in their respective camps on Day 14 of the show. They chatted about the team members and how much Burns wanted to see Drake take off his shirt to go in the water, despite the knowledge that there were clips of him cuddling with Alyssa; Donna, Ella, and Anitah would keysmash in the group chat any time Liam appeared on the screen, even though he and Katrina were clearly sweet on each other, while Brandy and Alyssa Lauren would ask what was happening or who someone was from the Catalyst team.
—
“Pillows and blankets are nice, but what we could really use is food,” Maxwell said, drawing an octopus in the sand with a piece of driftwood. “I don’t know how much longer I can last on coconuts and rice.”
“Liam and Drake took the raft out this morning to try fishing with the gear, maybe they’ll get lucky,” Katrina suggested, stirring the pot of rice in the fire. She set the lid on top and stood up from her kimchi squat position, dusting some errant sand off her leg. They both looked out towards the water, as dawn stretched out across the ocean, making out shadowy forms of their friends as they bobbed in the water, just before one of them went under the surface. Behind them, the rest of their friends began to stir awake from the scent of rice cooking.
Back at the Catalyst camp, Jake sat by the campfire with Estela; they were working on making their own fishing gear from bamboo and camp supplies after losing the previous challenge. Jake fed a length of twine through a handmade fishing pole while Estela sharpened tips on one end of a pile of branches she’d gathered. “Whatcha whittlin’, Katniss?”
Estela glanced at Jake sideways. “Stakes. Hand over some of that twine, I need it to bind these to make spears.” With a begrudging huff, Jake unfurled the twine and ran it against the edge of the makeshift bench he was sitting on to cut it, before tossing the rest at Estela.
“How fast can you tie those off? We’re losin’ daylight for a morning catch, if you wanna ride on the raft with me.”
“Five minutes,” she answered, already working nimbly around a branch to secure the whittled spikes.
The screen cut back to Ruby’s camp, where Liam and Drake stepped ashore, smiles brighter than the sunrise as Drake held up a fish trap with small rays flapping against one another.
—
“kjsdhfksjhfksjhfks,” Burns smashed into her keyboard. “Look at my man! With the sea bounty!”
“mevmnbvmnxb,” Ella smashed back.
“How do you know Drake did all the work? Liam’s just as wet, hahaha,” Donna chortled in response.
—
After killing their catch as humanely as possible - with Alyssa turning her face to Drake’s chest to avoid witnessing it - Leo and Olivia gutted and cleaned the rays before setting them on top of their makeshift grill to cook. Liam and Drake regaled the group with their morning under the water, as they took turns fishing.
While Team Ruby enjoyed some protein with their rice that morning, members of the Catalyst team glumly spooned rice into their mouths as they sat around the campfire while Jake and Estela dried off; their morning fishing trip had been unsuccessful.
Later that day, both teams received messages from the host to gather for a reward challenge. Each team made their way to a small lagoon, where they saw a structure floating in the water. A booming voice overhead instructed them to swim out to the structure and await further instructions. Once everyone from both teams had done so, a blue holographic image of the host appeared in the center to explain the rules. “The challenge is simple,” she narrated. “We want to see who can hold their breath the longest. There’s a bar you can use to keep yourself from floating up if you need it. Last one standing earns the prize for the whole team — an overnight trip at the Celestial Hotel, where our rotating film crew goes to rest. You’ll be treated to clean sheets and towels, hot showers, along with a decadent dinner and breakfast menu the next morning, before having to return to your camp.”
Everyone’s eyes lit up at the incentive of a night away from sleeping on the beach, away from mosquitos, rodents, and the threat of being waterlogged by passing storms. Stomachs gurgled at the thought of hot meals that didn’t consist of rice, and the possibility of cocktails or wine. “Oh, we got this,” Jake murmured quietly to Laurel. “Bet I can hold my breath longer’n any of those Ruby kids.”
“Is that so?” Leo taunted, overhearing Jake’s comment.
“Just call me Poseidon,” Jake smirked.
“We’ll see about that,” Leo replied. “You know most of us are from an island, right? We’re basically merpeople.”
—
“Bets! Bets on who wins this!” Brandy typed into the chat window.
“Sticking with Drake,” Burns typed. “Maybe Hana. She could have another random talent up her sleeve.”
“My money’s on Liam. Look how broad his chest is,” Anya replied. “He’s got to have massive lungs to match.”
“That makes no sense,” Ella typed, adding a laughing emoji. “But I’m Team Liam anyway.”
“Don’t hate me,” Donna began. “Something tells me Jake isn’t boasting right now.”
From her screen at home, Alyssa Lauren used Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe to choose Zahra. The rest of the group picked their favorites as the castaways donned goggles and got into the water.
—
“Ready? Set! Go!”
Sixteen heads dipped under the water’s surface, with contestants pinching their noses and puffing out their cheeks as an underwater camera filmed them. A handful of them - Olivia, Alyssa, Maxwell, Diego, and Michelle - tapped out under a minute. As the sand settled, thirty seconds passed before Katrina, Laurel, Sean, and Drake headed to the surface. Just after the two minute mark, Hana, Craig, and Zahra gave up, leaving Jake, Liam, Estela, and Leo under the water.
Jake looked positively peaceful, sandy brown hair swaying with ease in the water. Estela tapped her fingers lightly across the bamboo rod, counting each second as it passed. Liam glanced over to his brother, who’d begun to turn pink. Half a minute later, Leo popped up to the surface, muttering to himself out of frustration.
Three minutes in, Liam surfaced, gasping for air, leaving Jake and Estela to battle it out between themselves. Even though the hologram host blasted a horn to signal the end of the challenge, neither Catalyst member surfaced. Liam ducked down to check on them, and Jake and Estela both signaled that they were fine. Everyone continued to wait as the pair spent minute after minute under the water.
—
“Seriously? They’re on the same team!” Anitah typed. “They won already!”
“They’ve been underwater for a scary length of time,” Brandy added. “What are they, Navy SEALs or something?”
“I think Jake mentioned he was actually in the Navy before,” Alyssa Lauren replied.
—
A digital clock appeared in the corner of the screen as the two Catalyst members continued to hold their breath underwater. With each passing minute, members from both groups began to worry. After eight minutes passed, the host’s voice rang out, advising them to pull Jake and Estela up from the water to end the challenge. Laurel and Craig ducked down, eventually pulling their teammates up. “Congratulations to The Catalysts!” the host exclaimed. “A boat will be waiting at your camp to take you to the hotel.”
Laurel swatted Jake’s arm as they made their way to the shore. “What’s wrong with you!? You were underwater for nearly ten minutes! Who does that!?”
Jake looked over his shoulder to her with a grin, mischievous sparkle in his bright blue eyes. “Ten would be a new record, my best is nine.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Imagine nine uninterrupted minutes of me holding my breath, Princess. My birthday is tomorrow, and I know exactly how I wanna celebrate,” he winked.
Laurel’s cheeks flushed at the suggestion. “Stop looking at me like that, Top Gun.”
—
That evening at the hotel, after a sumptuous feast of lobster, crab, and an endless supply of beer and wine, the Catalyst members eventually went to bed. Much later into the night, Jake was seen sneaking into Laurel’s room.
—
“I KNEW IT!” Burns typed. She laughed as her friends typed in responses full of lemon, fire, pepper, and eggplant emojis. She popped another cheese cube into her mouth and smiled, watching the rest of the episode play out.
#the royal romance fanfic#endless summer fanfic#choices the royal romance#choices endless summer#liam x mc#liam x trina#drake x alyssa#jake x mc#choices crossover fanfic#wacky drabbles#survivor au#happy birthday Burnsie#birthday fanfic#zaffrenotes writes#there was an attempt#this is not what I planned#lol but I am out of time and don't have it in me to scrap what I've written#🙈 I watched an entire season of Survivor for like...3 scenes to add to the fic
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Hey Vy! 📚🌻 Here!
How is your week going? My roller skates just got here and I'm so happy omg! My protective gear haven't got here yet so I'm trying not to fall but a almost hit my face so many times- i have to stop for some time now because I need to clean my room :_: but here's your three words of this week: Paradise, curly, radio
A lot a lot looot of loveee,
📚🌻.
Hi darling 📚🌻 !
Please be extra careful until your protective gear arrives, I'd hate to hear you've injured yourself 🥺 Anyways, hope you have fun with your roller skates (always stay safe though)! 🥰
Here comes a short drabble with your three words! This one’s gonna be a little different though - no OCs and not for the Resident Evil fandom, but rather the How To Get Away With Murder fandom, more specifically - for my favorite relatioship/characters on the show! Hope you enjoy!
All my love, Vy 💌
Better
Laurel Castillo x Frank Delfino (How To Get Away With Murder - AU: Canon Divergence; AU where the characters tolerate each other XD)
Warnings: Slight spoilers (Nothing too major though), Swearing
Laurel runs a hand through Chris’ curly hair, admiring how peaceful he looks now that he’s finally asleep. He’s got a fever that’s been giving him crying fits for two days now. Having to deal with a sick two-year-old while simultaneously trying to keep up with work and her final studies has been exhausting to no end. She’s been receiving some help from Michaela who seems utterly desperate to keep herself busy at all times, even when she’s supposed to be relaxing just so her mind doesn’t spiral into the void of loneliness she’s fallen victim to as of recent. Connor and Ollie have babysat for her a few times as well, another gesture she’s incredibly grateful for. Asher has offered to look after the toddler too on numerous occasions but that’s one offer Laurel’s never taken up. She appreciates him offering her his help, but everyone would justify this action of hers considering how reckless Asher can be at times - aka 90% of the time.
The Keating 5 has come through for her when it comes to both looking after Chris and keeping up with her studies, proving their friendship to be one of those rare ones. However, Keating 5 aside, she’s received the most amount of help from one particular person. Someone who’s prepared to turn up at her doorstep at three in the morning if she needs him.
Frank Delfino
The two had a rocky start, to say the least. Their on-again-off-again relationship as colleagues with benefits. Their constant back and fourth. Then came Frank’s disappearance and Laurel’s involvement with Wes, all occurrences blowing huge holes not only in their romantic relationship but also their friendship which has always been a second away from ceasing to exist, all things considered. Friendship is hard to maintain with such a strong, hypnotic and magnetic romantic connection. Some people just weren’t meant to be friends, ever. Frank and Laurel are among them.
Speaking of Frank, the man’s been rather concerned lately, the lack of calls and messages from Laurel worrying him more with each passing day. He overheard Michaela mention Chris’ fever in passing conversation with Asher when she was bailing on a date with the excuse of helping Laurel look after the sick toddler. He’d been surprised to hear that, initially thinking it was a cheap excuse of Michaela’s to avoid spending time with Asher considering things between them have grown sort of complicated. But when Connor confirmed this claim of hers, Frank couldn’t help but grow very concerned. He’s grown used to knowing what’s going on with Chris and Laurel before everyone else so having someone else be in the know while he was kept in the dark made him feel oddly jealous and hurt.
And he could only hold his worries and assumptions at bay so long...
Responding to the knock at the door, knowing who it probably is at this hour, Laurel contemplates whether opening the door would be the right thing to do. She’s double-checked that it is indeed him, that bringing her more uncertainty than comfort, oddly enough. She’s been doing her best to distance herself from him and his life for quite a while now. She’s been meaning to give him an opportunity at a normal life, away from her mess and chaos. She’s been wanting to give him an escape from the fiasco she always finds herself dragging him into.
But he still comes back to her, by his own choice.
“Laurel, it’s me.“ His coarse voice reaches her from the other side of the door.
“Yeah...“ She trails off, forcing her hand up to turn the lock, “...I know.“
Opening the door reveals the concern on his face a lot better than she saw through the peephole. It makes her heart swell up and all she wants to do is throw her arms around him in a tight embrace. But she can’t do that, she won’t. She’s not willing to give him any reason to hold onto her whatsoever. In her eyes, he deserves a lot better. And maybe he does, but he doesn’t want anything or anyone better.
“Hey...“ he mutters, unsure of how to start of the interaction. Things have never been easy between them and, looking back, it seems like they’ve only gotten harder. Somehow, their connection has only grown stronger though. A connection he wants to uphold and a connection she wants to sever.
“Hey...What are you doing here so late?“ Ok, that’s a sustainable question considering it’s 10PM, but then again he’s come to her apartment at odder hours. Only difference is, those other times, she called him over.
“Though I’d check on you. You’ve been rather dead with calls and texts recently. Also missed Chris, heard he had a fever so I got worried.“ She hears the undertone of accusation in his voice loud and clear. It makes her bite her lip with guilt she wishes she wasn’t feeling, especially when she’s supposed to be doing the right thing.
You can’t decide for him. If he wants to keep coming back, that’s on him.
That thought hasn’t crossed her mind yet. It almost feels like she’s letting herself off the hook, feeding into the temptation to embrace what her and Frank have.
“You hungry?“ Now that is a bit more out-of-place question, but it’s accompanied by her taking a step back to allow him inside, “I ordered Thai food I never got to finish.“
He follows the signal, growing a bit more hopeful now that she’s let him in the apartment, thinking maybe she isn’t avoiding him after all. “Loss of appetite?”
“Partly.“ She replies, hearing the click of Frank locking the front door before following her in the kitchen where the hanging lights are dimmed. “Chris was throwing a fuss all day, I couldn’t really do much but focus on him.“ She motions to the living room where the coffee table is littered with sheets of paper and highlighters, some of which have found a spot on the floor as well. “Not to mention the ton of crap I need to do for school and work.“
“Would’ve been a lot easier on you had you called me, you know?“ He comments, walking over to the fridge, taking out the two packs of Thai takeout, suggesting she had been expecting him. She wasn’t really, she was just quietly hoping he’d show up at her doorstep.
“Didn’t wanna bother you. It’s nothing serious, a simple cold, I can handle it.“ She replies, approaching the small vintage radio in the corner of the kitchen counter, turning it on to a quiet volume so some tunes could fill the silences that are bound to occur frequently with the amount of tension between them.
“You could never bother me, Laurel. I’ve told you countless times before...“ putting the food he’s now moved onto a large plate into the microwave and turning the machine on, he turns to look at her, “I love Chris like he’s my son. In my eyes, he is my son and I love him with all my heart. Just like I love you.“
Instead of allowing the deafening quiet to take over them again - the soft music from the radio aside - Laurel lets the loudness of her mind surface. She lets it seep through the barriers she built in order to protect herself and protect everyone around her from herself: “Do you never stop to think you deserve better, Frank? Better than some grown-ass woman with her life in shambles and a kid whose father’s dead. Do you not think you deserve someone who knows what they want and where they’re headed with their life? Someone who...” her confidence is slowly leaving her to fend for herself and so she does, the best she can. “Someone who can cook and do their projects and work and take care of her son simultaneously. Someone better, Frank! Do you never want someone better?”
She hadn’t realized her eyes had been darting all over the place, looking everywhere but at him. How that her gaze has once again landed on his face, she feels her stomach turn at what she sees. That concerned, hurt and disappointed frown only further fuels her guilt, making her wish she’d never opened the door in the first place.
“Laurel, where’s this all coming from? Did Bonnie say something to you cause if she did...“ she cuts him off.
“No, she didn’t. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now actually. All I am to you is trouble and a burden and...“ he gets back at her, cutting her off himself.
“And you’re none of those things, Laurel. Your view of yourself is interfering with your perception of this, of us, of what we have. You and Chris are my family. The family I choose. It’s not about deserve or idealism - it’s about what brings you joy and makes you feel complete. What and who makes you feel at home. Who is your home.“ Always cautious of her personal space, Frank takes a hesitant step towards her and another when she doesn’t back away. “Lord knows it’s no paradise, but what we have is special, Laurel, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in this world.“
Against her best attempts at keeping her emotions at bay, Laurel feels her eyes brimming with tears as she gazes up at the man she’s never been in the clear with. She never realizes what he means to her until it’s too late. She only realized she loved him when he disappeared. She only realized he meant the world to her when he had already slipped from her grip. And she refuses to continue that pattern.
Instead, she’ll work on finding out what they are exactly and even if she doesn’t reach that epiphany, she’ll still embrace it, no matter the oddity and unfamiliarity of it all.
“Thank you.“ she manages to whisper past the knot in her throat.
“Don’t thank me, you should never thank me for the things I do for you or Chris. I choose to do them. I choose to be here. I choose you because I want you. You and no one else, Laurel.“
Just then, the microwave beeps, alerting the two that their close-to-midnight meal is warmed up. Taking the plate out and placing it on the counter to cool down a little, he turns to her with a small smile on his face, “Let’s see what’s so troubling about that project of yours, shall we?”
And just like that, the tension has lifted, allowing for a smile to appear on her face as well. That ease of the mind is not something she’s been very used to throughout her life, constantly having shit to worry about and people to deal with. That’s why she’s never wanted to be a burden on someone’s back. She’s never wanted to be a major part in someone’s life, at least not until she gets her shit together.
And although she might never get her shit together, she’s got someone she loves and someone who loves her by her side. Lord knows he hasn’t been on top of his own shit either. At least they’ll be figuring it all out together.
#how to get away with murder#htgawm#htgawm season 1#htgawam#htgawm season1#htgawm season 2#htgawm season 3#frank x laurel#laurel castillo#flaurel#frank delfino#michaela pratt#connor walsh#wes gibbins#bonnie winterbottom#annalise keating#asher millstone#sam keating#rebecca sutter#eve rothlo#fic#fanfic#fanfiction#au#fix it au#fix-it#request#requests open#3 word challenge#laurel x frank
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