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akampana · 3 years

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Continuation of this ask

Bedivere x Arturia - Ship it

What made you ship it?

TBH I was one of those few people who shipped it based on that like 2 second scene at the end of FSN. The Camelot Singularity just reinforced it. A lot came from the original Arthurian legend as well. Bedivere is similarly insanely loyal as he is in the game, and like in Fate lore, he’s been with Arthur longer than most.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

He journeyed so far for so long just to see her smile OH MY GOD BRB IM SOBBING HOLY CRAP CAN YOU JUST IMAGINE—

I’m a sucker for intensely loyal knights and I will always be. ALWAYS.

THE ANGST POTENTIALLLLLL but also THE FLUFF POTENTIALLLL

This man loved his king so bloody intensely. So strongly that his desire to see her survived the test of time. To be loved so much, so unconditionally for a thousand and a half years? Gods, that’s just too much, man. ;-;

And I absolutely adore how much it means to him to remain her knight, even if he tends to be insecure about the limb that he lacks, and how he believes he is nothing special in comparison with everyone else. I love that Arturia recognizes his strength and his worth, even if he himself can’t see it.

THE ENTIRE CONFRONTATION IN THE THRONE ROOM LET ME TELL YOU I WAS CRYING SOOOOO HARD THROUGHOUT THAT IK NIT EVEN KIDDING

THIS, the MINDBREAK Arturia goes through when she tries to remember

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I think that THIS SHIP NEEDS MORE LOVE AND I REALLY OUGHT TO CONTRIBUTE

All the other answers below cut!

Irisviel x Arturia - Ship It

What made you ship it?

I think I was bound to the moment I watched Fate Zero. When I was younger it was overshadowed by the feels Diarturia brought and not to mention Kiritsugu and Iri but this ship is damn good on its own.

What sold it though, is the argument she and Kiritsugu have in Episode 16, right after the last Saber and Lancer fight. Irisviel, who we all know loves her husband so much, forced Kiritsugu to answer Saber. That’s just how important Arturia was to her.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

I think they both found in each other something they themselves lack. It’s actually kind of funny. Arturia is human, and yet she’s so heavily consumed by her ideals that she doesn’t act like one. Irisviel, on the other hand, is not human, and yet everything that she does and wants to do is exactly that.

Throughout the anime, Being with Iri puts Saber into such mundane, ordinary situations that it teaches her to live. The suits, the escorting, being a passenger instead of a driver, appreciating the water by the seashore, etc. It's like the woman wants to leave her with some appreciation for the world, especially when she herself doesn’t have all that much time left.

On Irisviel’s part, I think she found in Saber the companionship she would have wanted from Kiritsugu during the last few days she remained on the Earth. Arturia had been the perfect knight in shining armor, taking Irisviel around to see the world as much as they could amidst a war. If they’d just had more time, I have no doubt Arturia would have taken Irisviel even more places, you know?

It makes me sad :( but in a good way.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I’m pretty sure Irisviel would wear the pants in this relationship ya know what I mean? Hahaha

Much as I love this ship, I think that it becomes all the more valuable because of how it ended. To each other, they were this brief, fleeting feeling of happiness. A love that was so short and yet so strong.

Shirou x Arturia - Don't Ship it

Hooooooo boi. Hear me out, mkay ? But this is just my personal opinion so pls no hate

Why don't you ship it?

I’m gonna start out by saying I don’t think I need to, tbh. Hahaha there’s enough content for this ship being fed to us, so my liking it or not is immaterial. But the reason is well...I watched FSN and Shirou x Saber was...not the best thing about it (the best thing about it was the soundtrack omg iconic) Shirou comes off as a bit of a misogynist, and kind of immature, and the whole time it’s like he doesn’t really listen to Arturia at all. Plus, it’s kind of like he just likes her looks at times. The final deciding factor was the date scene. That was just unbearable.

But then I go online and I see all this good stuff about them. And my friend ships them cause they’re canon, right? So, I’m like okay, what if I judged too quickly, let’s play the VN...and I did. And I still didn’t like him with Saber at all. So, I played the next route, watched the next anime, trying to redeem 1st route Shirou as much as I could but it just....didn’t happen. I think I can safely say I tried to like them. I really did. But no.

What would have made you like it?

Removing the misogyny and the immaturity and letting him listen to her. Like he should have.

At no point in their interactions did it feel like they were standing on equal ground, ever. Either he was speaking over her or the opposite. So less of that and a lot more respect.

And when you compare this relationship to what he has with like with his other two love interests, it makes this ship fall completely flat. It’s pretty...bland and honestly kind of shallow. It’s like the story just tells you they’re in love but there’s no answer to why they’re in love. Make him fall in love with her for her without necessarily forcing his need to save everyone on her.

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

I may not like how they got there, but in the end Arturia was able to pass peacefully.

I acknowledge that Shirou was important and made a change in her life.

That ending scene where they meet after so long, NGL is pretty sweet.

A lot of my headcanons happen post-Shirou, so there’s also that.

Archer x Rin -Ship it

What made you ship it?

Tsundere x Cynic has gotta be one of the best dynamics out there.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

His true identity. The fact that she dragged him all the way across space and time to return as her Servant, that’s just bloody fate at work.

The fact that he keeps acknowledging she’s a strong Master despite his later conduct in UBW.

Archer is ridiculously crass and Rin is easily riled up. In the Fifth Holy Grail War, they had the best Master-Servant relationship period. They have this explosive chemistry that just works so well.

When he smiles at her at the end of the route, and you just know that Tohsaka’s gonna be stubborn enough to make sure Shirou doesn’t end up going down the exact same path.

I think it’s sweet that he ends up going along with her whims because he secretly likes housework.

THE PRINCESS CARRY/ CATCH. MAN OH MAN.

Unlike the previous ship mentioned here, these two actually stand on equal ground with each other.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I don't think it's exactly an unpopular opinion, but I think they really ought to have more official content y'know? Rin is important in every route, and Archer's the actual climax of UBW and also entirely significant across three routes.

Medusa x Sakura - Don't ship it

Why don't you ship it?

Because while journeying through the routes, I always saw Rider as more of a best friend/sort of motherly figure to Sakura.

Or that Rider fulfilled the kind of relationship that she wanted to have with Rin, while Sakura unknowingly filled the void Medusa's sisters left in her life. I thought she was more of a guardian angel really, not a romantic interest. Kind of like how Heracles was to Illya.

What would have made you like it?

If I could maybe forget about the threesome with Shirou and the implied romantic feelings Rider has for him in Ataraxia that would be great.

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

Sakura deserves all the happiness in the world and I really do believe that Rider could fulfill that.

This ship DEFINITELY DEFINITELYYYYYY NEEDS MORE CONTENT

Diarmuid x Cú - Ship it

What made you ship it?

oooh this probably sounds surprising since based on my content you'd think, no i dont ship this BUT I DOOOOOOO (i just happen to hc them as bros more often)

Honestly what did make me ship it is the parallels.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

IMO They have the biggest potential for hurt/comfort amongst all the ships mentioned here.

They can help each other get through their trauma. Their whole relationship would be extremely healing and supportive.

I love that Diarmuid seems to have idolized Cú Chulainn at some point and honestly who wouldn't be honored to stand beside him, no?

They could be up to the funniest shenanigans because Cú is chaos and Diarmuid would absolutely be an enabler because when he isn't angst-ing he's super damn chill.

Bros being bros hahahah...unless?

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Not really. Maybe that I think Lancer Diar and Cascu would get along better and Saber Diar and Lancer Cu would also get along better but honestly any form is good this ship is good

#akampana asks #bedivere #arturia pendragon #artoria pendragon #irisviel von einzbern #emiya Shirou #archer #rin #tohsaka rin #Medusa #sakura #sakura matou #diarmuid ua duibhne #cu chulainn #long post

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lordkambe · 4 years

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♠ title, type: mahogany, one-shot ( possible second part )

♠ character, fandom, type of reader: mori ogai, bungou stray dogs, woman reader

♠ genre, rating: y/n, slice of life / smut, nsfw 18+ readers only

♠ themes, triggers: somewhat public ( in mori’s office ), slight humiliation, “princess” is used as a pet name, dominant #vibes, mori is uwu shy

♠ brief summary: y/n is an assassin for the black lizard and mori has taken an interest in her. after a non-important meeting mori calls y/n into his office separately. he confesses his interest in her but his teasing attitude makes things a little bit... frustrating for y/n ;)

♠ author’s note: hey, hello ! this is my first piece of writing i’m sharing and of course it’s a goddamn thirst trap. i hope you enjoy it. please be aware that i did “cut” this out of fear that it would be too long for a first writing piece. there’s more... spiciness to the story that i’d be more than happy to add if anyone ( literally anyone ) is interested !

Work is work and as long as it paid well, that’s all that mattered. There was no ulterior motive for joining the Port Mafia. It had nothing to do with your personal morals, it had to do with being able to survive in a city like Yokohama. You remember spending the early years of your childhood in the slums of the city, an orphanage wouldn’t even accept you; not with the abilities you possessed. The Port Mafia found you and you couldn’t think of a single reason to decline the generous offer.

Your position in the Port Mafia couldn’t be compared to that of an executive. You worked alongside the Black Lizard as an assassin and barely had time to create friendships with the business. As of late, you found yourself inside he office of the boss himself, Mori Ogai. The name itself held so much power within the Mafia and throughout the city he claimed to protect.

The meetings between the Black Lizard and Mori were always short almost as if he was calling these meetings on a whim. At each meeting you couldn’t help but to notice Mori’s fleeting glances. You always assumed he was polite enough to give you eye contact when he spoke but then today, your eyes locked and the two of you stood looking eye to eye. He was interested in you. The meeting ended, you broke eye contact, and began to head for the large door.

“Y/N.” His voice is... cute. He only spoke like that with his precious Elise-chan. Your figure returned to face him, “Is there anything wrong sir?” The timbre in your voice was firm, professional and contrasted deeply against his casual-flowery tone.

He blushed. “No. I just wanted to look at you.”

Now you blushed. You simply bowed before exiting the massive office in hopes that he didn’t catch the subtle change in your demeanor. You walk forward but your hand is still attached to the door. You engage in a mental debate over the events that just took place. It was Gin’s soft voice that brought you back to life but before you could join her and the rest of the Black Lizard the door behind you opened. It was Elise and she tugged at the end of your sleeve. You looked down to the blonde.

“Y/N, Rintaro is asking for you.” Elise skipped forward to stand with the rest of the Black Lizard. You looked at the group then at the door behind you. “It’s an order.” Elise chimed.

With your hands on your hips a puff of air left your lips. “Alright. Thank you Elise.”

Without much of a choice you reentered the room you left merely seconds ago. Mori stood at the end of the long wood table with his back facing the door. Your body tells you to move forward and you do. You stand close to the edge of the table it was lined with roses, candelabras, sweets, and toys. About three chairs down from Mori, you stop.

“You called for me boss?” Your voice is soft yet still hosts the same professionalism you always greeted Mori with.

Mori doesn’t look at you but you hear a soft chuckle. Now you’re riddled with confusion and anxiety settles in the pit of your stomach. “Boss, I say this with respect. If there isn’t anything of importance you need to say to me. I need to be on my way. The Black Lizard and myself...”

Before you can complete your sentence Mori turned to you. His cheeks were still the same hue of pink from your earlier conversation. The stern expression in your face softened but your brows did furrow in confusion.

“Y/N there’s no doubt that you’re the most beautiful member of the Port Mafia. With the confidence you exude you must know this.”

You’re at a loss for words, sure a pass was made at you here and there but you never considered yourself to be at the level at which Mori described you to be. In that moment your muscles relax and you feel as if you can speak to Mori as an acquaintance, not a boss.

“Oh... thank you.” You look away but can feel Mori’s gaze upon you. He took a step forward but you remained in your place. Come closer you thought, please. The space between you and Mori sewed together but still you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Interesting that the woman who makes me shy is feeling shy herself.” His gloved hand reached towards you and fell underneath your chin. He lifted it with such caution you could melt at the sweet touch.

“I’m sorry, boss.”

“Mori’s fine.” He encouraged.

“Mori.” you breathed.

In a blink of an eye your lips met his. The sweet, innocent kiss evolved into something deeper. Mori’s hand fell from your chin and down to your waist. His arms brought you in close and your body pressed against his. Your hands were attached to the back of his neck. Your fingers crawled upward to tangle them into the strands of his raven hair.

The kiss finally comes to an end but you’re hungry for more. Your hands cup his cheeks and you whine. He chuckled and as the sound left his lips you watched his eyes flicker. He led you to the head of the table and carelessly shoved the chair aside. You stood where the chair once rested and looked at Mori, your eyes just as eager as his.

Your lips crash together once more. “Y/N...” he whined now pulling away from the kiss to admire you. “I’ve been imagining this.” He says with his eyes taking in every inch of you.

“Imagining what?” You ask sheepishly. You wanted to hear his praises, you wanted to be admired by the most feared man in the city.

Mori lifted you just enough to help you be seated comfortably on the table. His hand traced up your chest signaling for you to lay flat on the table. Now with your back firm against the mahogany table the hand Mori had on your chest was placed on your neck.

“You.” He began. “On this table flat on your back as I... have my way with you.”

He’s shy, you remember. “Mori... you’ll have to be more specific otherwise I’m going to get back up.”

Just after those words left your lips the grip Mori had around your neck strengthened. “Oh, princess. Don’t say things so foolishly.” His thumb traced the bottom of your lip. “Open.” It was a demand and you complied.

His thumb was placed in your both and you teased it with your tongue. Excited to where things were headed you felt the heat between your legs grow. It seemed that Mori had gotten the memo. His other hand crawled up your thigh and stopped right between your legs. With his knuckle he pressed firmly against your clothed cunt and ran it up. It elicited a sound within you that you didn’t know you were capable of creating. You hadn’t felt like this before. He was teasing you.

“Have my way with you can entail in many adventures princess. I could just leave you here like this. With my thumb shoved in your mouth and my hand pressed on your clothed cunt.”

You almost cry at the thought, he wasn’t so shy after all.

He clicked his tongue, he was mocking you. “Or I could give you the pleasure of shoving my fingers inside your soaking pussy. Huh? Would you like that princess?” His thumb left your mouth. “Answer.”

“Yes.” Your voice is so weak and filled with desperation it makes him laugh.

He doesn’t ask you to repeat yourself instead he pulls your legs forcing your feet to touch the ground beneath you two. He lifts your body from the table and pressing your entire frame against his. You can feel his hardened length on your thigh and you moan at the thought of it being pushed into you.

With your bodies close together he thrusts his hips into yours and you feel his hardened cock press against you. “Oh my god...” you muttered grasping at the fabric of his coat. He presses against you again, again, and again.

You’re a whining, moaning mess and you’re still clothed. You feel your own wetness grow between your legs. It feels as if you’ve soaked straight through your panties, possibly even the pair of slacks you wore.

“My, my. Y/N I haven’t even taken off your clothing. Let alone mine and you’re on the brink of coming?”

You feel humiliated but aroused and so fucking needy. You grip the collar of his coat and look at him dead in the eye. “I need you. God, I fucking need you.” You’re whining and he’s smirking at you. “Please, god -- fuck. I want your cock. Your fingers anything. Please... Mori. Please.”

He lets go of you and your legs feel weak. You used the edge of the table to support yourself and with whatever strength you had left, you seated yourself upon the table. You sat with your legs wide and on instinct your hand fell atop your clothed cunt. You looked down and your suspicion’s were true. You had soiled straight through your panties and you sighed in arousal.

Mori had his back towards you and you couldn’t waste time with deciphering his behavior so instead you slip your own slacks off. You left your panties on and slid further back on the table in order for your feet to be placed upon it as well. You trace your index finger right across the slit of your cunt --- “it’s so fucking wet.” You moaned it was performative, purposeful. You wanted him to turn around.

You touch yourself through your thin panties innocently and the room is filled with your soft, delicate moans. Your eyes are on his back and you watched as he looked at you over his shoulder. Your eyes pleaded at him.

Mori turned and your mouth watered at the sight of his hardened cock even though it was hidden behind the fabric of his pants. He reached for your wrist and tore it from your cunt. He gripped it tightly.

“You’re so cute.” He praised you. “But if you think you think you can sit there and play with yourself without my explicit permission you must be out of your fucking mind.” He finished his sentence by placing your fingers in his mouth. He coated the sweetness of your pussy in his mouth and for the first time his moan, his sweet audible moan blended with yours.

“Lay back.” He asked removing his coat. “This is where the fun begins.”

#mori ogai x reader #mori ougai x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs mori #bsd imagines #mori ougai imagines #bsd smut #mo.#os.#tm.#nsfw.#bsd.

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themoonandotherslikeit · 4 years

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Breathe - Chapter Three

After the biggest meeting of her career, Y/N went for a drink and met him. Dean Winchester, the handsome bartender at The Shop, who managed to say all of the right things to soften her hard shell. Was it possible that Y/N was wrong all of this time? Had she spent the better part of 2 decades focusing on her career when there was one man in a city of 18 million that could make her feel more alive than any job ever could? Will she be able to slow down long enough to let herself fall in love with a man that was never a part of the plan? After years of holding her breath, will she finally let herself breathe again?

This story is written for my beautiful and talented friend and beta @dean-winchesters-bacon, thanks for always inspiring me and supporting my whims. Love you always.

Banner by the talented @talesmaniac89

Chapter Three

Her

Y/N woke up groggy with a pressure on the inside of her skull threatening to crack her head open and spill everything out. Her temples throbbed insistently and a wave of nausea hit her as soon as she opened her eyes. The gloomy, dark skies hid the sun from bleeding in through the open curtains, but it still felt too bright for her hangover. Everything felt slow and sluggish, like she was trying to walk under water.

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and a streak of mascara darkened her skin. She rarely forgot to take off her makeup, and she knew her skin would punish her for it later. She yawned and squinted at the window. She didn’t usually leave her black out curtains up… in fact, she never opened them.

There are moments that are subtle, brief and fleeting like the first flake of snow of the season. Sometimes they go completely unnoticed and unremembered. Other moments are big, grand, powerful enough to move mountains and change a person’s life forever.

As Y/N looked around the apartment, her surroundings coming together like a puzzle that finally clicked together seamlessly, she experienced one of those astronomical, mounting moving moments.

This was not her apartment.

“The fuck…”

Quickly orienting herself, she tried to find any kind of identifying information to tell her where she ended up and who she may have gone home with. It was not like her to be so reckless.

The apartment was tidy, but, by the simple decor and smell of the sheets she was able to discern that the apartment definitely belonged to a man. She pinched the bridge of her nose to quiet an oncoming headache. She didn’t even remember a man from the night before that she could’ve gone home with. Oh how the mighty have fallen, she thought solemnly.

She glanced under the blanket that was hiding her bottom half, happy to find that she still had her dress and panties in place. She had to admit, though, that the situation was confusing. She didn’t have sex last night, that she was fairly sure of, but in that case… Why was she in a strangers apartment? It didn’t make any sense.

She slipped out of bed, finding her heels resting neatly on the floor next to the bed, placed with care.

Who would take her home and just tuck her into bed? That was something a friend did, or a boyfriend. Her stomach twisted as Sam’s face flashed in her mind. His kind hazel eyes wrinkling at the edges as he smiled at her. He would take care of her in that way without question, and that thought terrified her. She’d avoided his apartment for so long for that exact reason. She couldn’t risk him getting the wrong idea.

She picked up her shoes, not wanting to risk clicking on the hardwood floors and alerting the mystery man. As she poked her head around the room separator she was hit with the smell of cooking. Her mouth watered immediately at the savory smell of meat sizzling on the stove and something sweet that she couldn't quite place. Y/N did not cook. Her kitchen was purely aesthetic. She wouldn't even know how to turn her oven on, let alone use it, so the smells were new and warming. If the food tasted as good as it smelled, she may have a reason not to sneak out after all. Her stomach growled in agreement, and she resisted the urge to shush it.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a voice said, gruffly and familiar. Her eyes followed the sound of the voice and caught his green eyes from across the apartment.

The bartender! You went home with the goddamn bartender?! You’re better than this, Y/N. You aren’t twenty anymore.

“Yes. Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, her voice strained and awkward.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and his eyebrow quirked in response. “I’m almost done with breakfast. Do you have time to have a seat?”

She shifted her weight awkwardly. The mix of her own vulnerability, the smell of bacon grease, a hangover, and how undeniably attractive he was had her reeling. The answer should’ve been no immediately. She had enough problems without adding a man to the mix, but yet there she was, considering it.

“You good, Y/N?”

The sound of her name snapped her out in an instant. Her shoulders rolled back, and her grip tightened on her heels. “I’m fine. I should get going.”

“Big day?” he asked, his eyes flashing with something mischievous.

“Every day is a big day if you make it big.”

“That sounds exhausting.” He pulled a pan off the stove. “Do you ever have days where you do nothing?”

She squinted at him. This guy is kidding, right? “That doesn’t sound very productive.”

“So I guess that’s a no,” he said with a chuckle. “You should try it. No plans. Just relax and go with the flow.”

“Don’t you have to plan to have a day like that? So it’s not really without a plan.”

“You got me there.” Dean laughed, crossing his arms. “Do you always plan out your own days?”

“Yes. What kind of question is that?”

“I was just wonderin’ if you ever let anyone else plan things for you.” He shrugged.

“Absolutely not.”

He walked toward her, his height overcoming her as he approached. He wore a pair of jeans, socked feet, and a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt. His hair was messy from sleep, but his eyes were wide, awake, and engaged. “Are you afraid to lose control?”

“No.” Yes.

“Let me plan a day for you, Y/N.” His voice was silky and thick like honey, tickling her cheeks as he brushed her hair behind her ear. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, feeling taken aback from his sudden intensity. She half expected her skin to catch fire from the electricity bouncing between their chests to the beat of her racing heart.

“Dean I…”

“Hey, before you say anything hear me out,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. Her lips pressed together, giving him only a moment to make his case - which was more than she allowed most people. “I know you’ve got all the reasons in the world to say no. You don’t know me, you have no reason to trust me, but you’re a professional. I can see that, hell anyone can see it just by lookin’ at you. Y/N, you should know that there is risk in the world, and you could miss out on some of the best things in life if you don’t take it. Someone took a chance on you once, didn’t they?”

He was breathing heavily, obviously a little worked up, and the sight of his body twisted up in ragged breaths sent a chill up her spine. The risk he was talking about was not the same thing as her job, as law school, as every tough case she had ever taken. He was out of line trying to make it seem like they were even on the same plane of reality. Even though she knew all of that, she still found herself wanting the impossible, the outrageous.

“Take a risk on me, Y/N.”

She wanted a life that could move mountains. She always had. She wanted to say yes.

Dean

Later

“Hold up, hold up. You’re going on a date?”

Dean shrugged, running his fingers through his hair in the bathroom mirror, unable to keep one spot from sticking straight up. “I don’t know if it’s a date or not. I’m just gonna give her some fun. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“So it is a date.”

“Sammy, you need to relax,” Dean said, waving his younger, half brother away. Dean’s parents had divorced after he was born, and a year later Dean’s mom fell in love with Sam’s dad, and the boys had been together ever since. “My romantic life isn’t your concern.”

“Sure it is,” Sam said with a laugh, sitting on Dean’s bed. He moved the room divider when he’d entered the apartment to give himself somewhere comfortable to sit, and was currently lounging across the large mattress. “I don’t want you to die alone.”

“Nobody is dyin’.”

“We are all dying, Dean. Technically.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I don’t see your point,” Sam said with a frown, his eyebrows coming together.

“How’s mom?”

“She’d like to see you.”

Dean exhaled sharply from his nose. He didn’t see Mary nearly enough. She lived out in New Jersey and it still felt like a betrayal to his dad going out to visit her frequently. Plus, he spent most of his days in The Shop. There was always an excuse, even though none of them seemed good enough. “Miss her too.”

“You should call her.”

Dean poked his head out of the bathroom to eye his brother. “I don’t need a lecture, Sammy.”

“Hey you asked.” His brother was quiet for a beat before sitting up. “So… I got the case.”

“What?! Why didn’t you lead with that! I would’ve taken the night off to take you out to celebrate. This is huge news!”

“Wait, you’re going to work? I thought you were going on a date?”

Dean shrugged, “She said I could have her time Sunday morning. From eight to ten thirty.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You want to go out with someone that stringent?”

Dean shoulders lifted again, “Guess so.” He walked out and sat next to his brother. “But this isn’t about me. I’m really proud of you, brother. You’ve worked really hard for this.”

Sam’s cheeks reddened a bit, and he reached behind his head, scratching his neck awkwardly. “Thanks. I’ve really been trying, and I’m excited for the opportunity. I know they’re taking a chance on me and it means a lot.”

“They’re making the right choice, Sammy. You’re damn good at your job. It’s too late for me to get a replacement, but come by, and I’ll get you dinner and drinks on the house.”

“I’ll just ride with you then. We can split a cab.”

Dean grinned at his brother, squeezing his shoulder. “You got it, kid.”

He could still see little Sammy with his bright eyes staring up at him. He had all of these grand dreams that were so big. For a while he wanted to be president, and Dean believed that he could do it. Sam had the heart and the drive to do anything he put his mind to, maybe that was the draw Dean had to Y/N. She reminded him of the same fire he saw in his brother.

“What about the woman you’re talking to?”

Sam let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping. “I dunno Dean. She might hate me.”

“She’d be stupid to hate you, kid. You’re a goddamned catch.” He slid his wallet and phone in his pocket, and offered a hand to Sammy so he could pull him up. “Fight for her. That’s all you can do.”

His little brother looked up at him knowingly and nodded, clasping their hands together. He pulled Sam up, looking up at his younger brother who towered over him by at least three inches. “I will,” Sam agreed, “I’ll fight for her.

“Good. Now let's go get you a drink.”

“Or five.”

Her

“Give me your hand.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow before offering her palm.

The fiery red head in front of her consisted of her one guilty pleasure in this world. Rowena McCloud. The self proclaimed witch was cheaper than a therapist any day of the week, and she provided tea leaves that were usually the only thing, other than two fingers of whiskey, that put Y/N to sleep after a long, stressful day.

Rowena ran her long manicured nails along the lines of Y/N’s palms. “You’ve met someone.”

Here she goes again. Why did I even come here? Y/N asked herself every time that she came to the tea shop for a visit. Why did she come? She knew the answer, but saying it out loud was too fucking pathetic for words.

She had no friends, and her relationship with her mother was strained at best. So who else was she supposed to talk to about her issues? She could always ignore them, but that was like cutting wires at random, just hoping the one she was cutting wasn’t the trip wire that would explode her entire life. Bottling up emotions caused frown lines and acne break-outs, and she was too damn old for pimples. So she’d ended up with a Scottish witch examining her love line a little too closely.

“Have not.”

“Oh come on, Y/N, you have.” Her green eyes flickered up to meet Y/N’s, her red painted lips curled into an ornery smirk. “I can tell. You’re flushed. What’s his name.”

“There is no him.”

“Fine. Then what’s her name.”

Y/N pulled her hand away and crossed her arms in annoyance. “Give me a break, Rowena.”

“I cannot, I'm afraid, but I can make you tea.”

“Fine.” She couldn’t help but smile as the woman turned away. Even twenty-plus years her senior, they still meshed well together. She looked at her as a second mother, or even better, a friend. If she knew how to have those, of course.

“Why did you come here?”

“I didn’t get the promotion.”

“Ah.”

“You don’t seem surprised,” Y/N said, a bite to her words. “I deserved it.”

“Of course you did,” Rowena said smoothly as she poured a dark, steeped liquid into the small tea cup. “But you’ll have something better.”

“If you say love I’m going to come across this table and smack you.”

The witch laughed at that, the skin crinkling around her eyes in amusement. “I was going to say sex.”

“I am having sex,” she said with a huff.

“Not sex that you enjoy.”

It was a bold statement. A bold statement that Y/N wasn’t confident that she could disagree with. She thought she enjoyed it, but she never had anything outside of other meaningless connections to compare it to. She’d never wanted more, though. Her one love was her job and that’s how it was always supposed to be. At least before her job royally fucked her. Maybe it was time she started thinking about herself, instead of the firm.

“I enjoy sleeping with him.”

“You hesitated, love. It’s mighty okay to be unsatisfied. Well, it isn’t okay, but it’s normal. You don’t have to stand for it.”

She waved Rowena off dismissively, “It’s fine.”

Rowena shook her head, her deep red curls bouncing. “Oh sweetie. It shouldn't be fine. It should be electric, hot, passionate. You aren’t living your best life if your sex is just fine.” Her green eyes flashed as she grinned. “You must’ve not slept with him yet, or you wouldn’t be so casual.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“Aren’t you? You said yes to him, after all.”

“I had to get him off my back. He was persistent. He wouldn’t take no as an answer.”

Take a risk on me, Y/N.

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me.” Rowena tapped the lip of the cup with her index finger. “It’s all in the leaves.”

Y/N looked down into the cup that she hadn’t even noticed she’d been sipping. The mushed, wet leaves were at the bottom of her cup, and maybe she just had it on the mind or maybe Rowena was right and magic was in the air, but she could’ve sworn that they looked just like a heart. Lumpy, misshapen, but like one nonetheless.

Dean

Part of Dean worried that she wouldn’t show. That would be his luck. Maybe he would deserve it after being a little too intense. Take a chance on me. Who the fuck did he think he was? He didn’t normally come off that strong.

She wouldn’t let him pick her up. “What if you’re a serial killer?” Evidently he hadn’t earned her trust yet, even though he was a perfect gentleman the night before. “A woman can’t be too safe, Dean.” He liked the way she said his name. She sounded annoyed, but amused at the same time. She couldn’t quite keep up the unimpressed expression. He made it a personal goal to make her smile more than she frowned. She’d look amazing with laugh lines. Everyone should have them.

Lisa often complained about the lines on her face, and she painted makeup over them to hide the creases and curves. Dean had loved them. They told the story of her life. Laugh lines showed a long, happy life full of laughter and joy. He could never understand why she would want to hide them. It was beyond him.

He was meeting Y/N in front of the restaurant. He held two disposable cups in one hand and a paper bag in the other, leaning against the building. He watched people stroll past. They weren’t watching their surroundings, constantly staring straight forward. That was the downside to New York City, no one was interested in the now. All they cared about was the next thing. He supposed it made sense that no one stopped to smell the roses in a city made of steel and concrete. There were no flowers to smell, only exhaust.

Dean, on the other hand, believed in things that were beautiful. There was always something good to see.

In front of him, a woman bundled her baby in a ball of blue, fluffy blanket to keep him protected from the autumn chill. A man jogged with his dog, whose tongue was out, having the time of his life. A man in a suit, who kissed a woman goodbye as he stepped out of a cab. And her.

Y/N stood across the street, fumbling around her purse for something. He could see her eyebrows furrow even from that distance. She wore a pair of black pants tucked into black boots and a long burgundy sweater. A curl fell into her eye, the rest of her hair tucked into a wide-brimmed hat. She looked different than she had the day before, and he took note of everything about her to add to his mental collection right next to the way she looked first thing in the morning, how she looked when she was angry, and the way her voice sounded when she was drunk. He was excited to learn all he could about her. What was her favorite food? What was her ideal temperature? How did she like her coffee?

He wanted to know her, even with the high probability that she would hurt him. He figured that pain was something, and something had to be better than the emptiness he’d been feeling. Pain at least meant that he was still alive.

—————————————

Chapter Four

Masterlist

Read on A03 Here

Tag List:

@dean-winchesters-bacon

@akshi8278

@waywardbaby

@7hunnyybunnyy7

@atc74

@deanwinchesterswitch

@onethirstyunicorn

@thoughts-and-funnies

@elliloumom

@smol-and-grumpy-recs

@deandreamernp

@deangirl93

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@440mxs-wife

@whatareyousearchingfordean

@sunflowers-n-rocknroll

@that-one-gay-girl

@deanmonandnegansbitch

@hobby27

@moron225

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aaluminiumas · 3 years

Text

敵

Corazon opened the window, leaned over the windowsill and lit another cigarette.

He didn’t imagine his life to be like this. It seemed to have turned upside down on the day when he wrote a word on the card he used to communicate with Doflamingo. A single word.

てき.

敵.

Enemy.

When did he become an enemy to his own brother?.. When he heard an angry cry of a capricious kid who had realized no one would ever satisfy his whims? When he, weeping, stared at the crowd ready to impale them? When he begged, hysterically choking with tears, to stop and not to kill their father? When the Marines found him and took him along with them?

Or when he decided to spy on Doflamingo not to let him create the pandemonium he had gone through himself?..

No one impelled him to return. Sengoku was against the mission till the very end: he didn’t want Rosinante to take such a dangerous assignment. Even Garp who kept a firm hand on his own grandchildren banged the table with his fists growling he would never send a rookie to the wolf’s lair, and if he, Corazon, was so desperate to get a good punch, he needn’t leave the Fleet Admiral’s office at all.

Rosinante smiled and closed his eyes feeling the familiar warmth filling his lungs and flowing across his body up to the tips of his nervous pale fingers squeezing the cigarette. The whole organization seemed to take care of him: he could remember each and every one who watched him during the first days at the base. In a couple of weeks they started training him: no one was sure as to what to exactly do with the kid who had appeared out of the blue but Sengoku commanded to mention him in the documents as a novice, and soon enough Corazon managed to reveal his best qualities.

How old was he?.. Six?.. Eight?.. He had lost practically everything, and it was still astonishing how much they managed to give him as if in exchange: gentle, open and sociable by nature, he made such a good impression on nearly everyone – especially on the incumbent Fleet Admiral who replaced his father. Currently it caused him to give out a sad smile: Sengoku was so influential that Corazon could do whatever his heart desired knowing he would never be scolded for his tricks that were, though, completely innocent. For instance, he shunned away from vice-admiral Akainu and did his best to avoid his attention: even more so, when he discovered that Sakazuki adored bonsai trees. When he whispered it to his sworn father, the Fleet Admiral immediately guffawed, and shared the information with Garp who had been trying to steal a cookie for at least half an hour. Both wisely advised the child to stay silent about this but it was highly doubtful that the secret of Sakazuki’s touching hobby would not make its way out of the office.

Kizaru didn’t seem to notice the kid’s presence at all, although sometimes he condescended to show several fighting techniques. As for Aokiji, he didn’t even lock the door to his office and sprawled across the floor, so inquisitive Rosinante perused orders, documents, short and clumsy remarks jotted by a pencil stub, training and mission schedules as well as the dusty awards on the shelves. He was also a huge fan of brief squabbles: vice-admiral Kuzan was practically impossible to vex (mostly because he tended to fall asleep in the middle of the sentence), so the skirmish came to an end without even starting. At least he didn’t forget to grab his favorite yellow camping cot that accompanied him throughout his missions.

O-Tsuru-san was way stricter and far more demanding: she vigilantly watched Rosinante without being too shy to punish him the way he deserved. Every once in a while Sengoku tried to resist and to stand up for his ‘son’ using his power and influence but he normally got tactfully trounced himself – and went back to his office to deal with correspondence and paperwork along with Garp, also chastened by Tsuru.

His future was predetermined. It became clear when he woke up on board of the Marine ship. But none of the people who prepared him for service aimed to pit him against Doflamingo.

That’s what Corazon himself decided.

てき.

敵.

Enemy.

He became an enemy to his own brother.

Someone knocked at the door – and Rosinante, turning to the sound, set his own coat on fire: he hadn’t had enough time to change his clothes for he arrived to deliver a report on the results of the first phase. Trying to put out the feathers, he instantly fell on the ground and froze for a couple of moments – he didn’t need to hurry anyway.

“Rosinante?” came a familiar voice. “Won’t you talk to the rookies? They have a couple of questions.”

The young man slowly stood up and raised his head.

“In a couple,” he lit another cigarette, “of minutes. I hope O-Tsuru-san won’t be around to check my knowledge.” He smiled – and lost his balance trying to show a thumbs-up.

Well, no one asked him to be a graceful feline. Did they?..

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maidofpuns · 3 years

Text

Small Love Stories

For Jon's birthday last month, we had a small get-together with our friends. The one I've known the longest? I could have fallen for her a thousand times, but that night, after I've spent so many months accepting who I am, I found myself staring at her and sometimes I'm still taken aback by this little two, maybe three-second moment that plays over and over in my head where she's listening intently to another of our friends tell a joke or a story and I'm absolutely stricken by her Briar Rose-golden waves and her fey grey-green eyes and her adorable little pouf mushroom nose and her affinity for heavy but elegant jewlery and how nice she looks in comfy jeans and off-the-shoulder sweaters.

When I remember this moment, I reflect on the night we were thirteen and her dad's Christmas tree was already up and we did an enchanting photoshoot with the lights and various ornaments and we went down to the lake at midnight in our winter coats, sneaking out of her dad's place while he was sleeping and the only mischief we got into was throwing snow at each other. It's a foundational memory for me, one that I sometimes think about and jump off from. I've known her for fifteen years this fall. That's an insane amount of time. I never thought I would have a friend in my life for so long and I am sincerely astounded by the prospect of our love continuing to grow for many more years to come.

One of my co-workers just got these soft blonde/bright brown highlights in her (very dark, nearly black) curly hair. She wears chunky 80s glasses with square lenses and she has this birth mark or mole that makes her look like Eva Mendes. She's bubbly and outgoing and she speaks her mind. She gets shy and bashful about boys and she jumps off into the deep end unapologetically and only looks back if she liked what she saw the first time. I will miss her when she transfers stores.

Another co-worker: she changes her hair a lot (but not as often as a different coworker who I saw yesterday with newly dark violet into blue hair), and wears an impeccable winged eyeliner. Her eyes are (I think?) almost auburn or hazel and they're soft and intense. We talked about dating once and it was a conversation with her that reminded me to look within myself to find out if my suspicions about my identity were correct.

She wears soft sweaters really well, too.

She told me about a show (Bridgerton) that I intend to watch soon and how she thought I'd like the music because it's Vitamin String Quartet (she's right and I practically swooned when she said that) and we geeked out about makeup and how our store organizes by brand and not product which is basically the most genius plot by whichever godsent store architect made that decision and how winkylux and pacifica always have gorgeous branding and how the names on the nyx creme lipsticks we happened to stumble on were all named after desserts. It's been a spontaneous conversation each time we've seen each other, perhaps because we never know how much time we'll have until the next time we interact. I love this fact so much.

It's not often that I develop crushes on boys with curly hair. This is something that has fascinated me for several days. I feel a strange curiosity whenever he comes to work with freshly-showered, dark hair, and for a fleeting second I imagine whether it is soft and whether the curls will embrace my fingers like green bean vines climbing trellises.

Again, this tends to be a moment that loops a few times like those movies where you see someone rewinding and replaying a tape tens of times, trying to glean some new information or simply trying to connect to the person speaking somehow.

We had a strange phone call yesterday evening and he seemed so knocked off his feet by it that I was thinking about it an hour after I got home. Almost on a whim, I asked if he was all right and after a brief exchange he wished me a good night by name.

#personal #tiny love stories #little notes about recent meaningful connections with people I love a lot

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rippleminx · 4 years

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Colombian Joseph Gordon-Levitt

I’m 18 years old and fresh out of high school, standing in line at community college after backing out of pursuing an education at University of Houston last minute. I can’t exactly explain why I did this even to this day, but that was my first major “adult” decision and I made it on a whim. I spent so much of high school taking advanced placement classes getting ready for college, only to run away from it when the time came.

We’re all waiting to get our picture taken for our student IDs. I’m alone, I know no one, and the line is moving slowly. I ask the guy in front of me for a piece of gum and he taps his friend who is in front of him to ask him for some. Gustavo* turns around to hand it to me. He is so goddamn good looking. We start to chat to pass the time, and I get included in his group of friends who all came together. I’m disappointed when we get to the front of the line because I know that it’s over and we will have to go our separate ways, but Gustavo asks me if I want to go to the book store with him. I do.

The details of the day kind of get blurred between his sweet smile and rows upon rows of expensive books. He is a couple of years older than me and he’s recently moved to Texas from California. He looks like a Colombian Joseph Gordon-Levitt and I’m swooning. There is a stand on campus offering free engraved necklaces for students and the line is long. We both take the opportunity to extend our time together and I get “Trust Thyself” engraved on mine. I still have it locked away in a box somewhere even though I will never wear it again. I just can’t bring myself to throw it out.

The day felt like something out of a movie until he walks me to my car and casually mentions his girlfriend. I play it off like it doesn’t even phase me, even though I feel like I’ve been lead on with all the flirting that took place. We want to exchange numbers but somehow that feels a little too personal given the information he sprung on me and I don’t want to cross any boundaries so we add each other on Facebook instead. I figure there is no harm in being friends, plus I don’t know anyone else on campus. We try to hang out again but our schedules don’t allow it and I kind of just forget about him altogether.

I drop out two weeks later.

A year or two later I wake up to a Facebook message from a woman I don’t know. It’s Gustavo’s now wife, Cindy*. She explained how Gustavo mentioned me to her, who knows since when, and told her how interested in me he was. She asks me if I want to go on a date with them. The concept kind of comes as a surprise to me because I have never imagined anything other than monogamy, but I don’t really hesitate to accept despite the fact that I knew nothing about her, because I can’t deny there are still underlying feelings for him and I want a reason to be near him again.

We go on a few dates that kind of just feel like three friends having a good time until one night when they invite me back to their apartment after dinner to play Jenga. A few minutes into the game Cindy looks at me and says “I want you to kiss my husband.” I’m uneasy and hesitant regardless of the fact that they were both clearly consenting. She reassures me it’s what she wants so I finally give in.

We move from the living room couch to their bedroom and I’m in a haze. It’s dark and I can barely make anything out with the soft light from the hallway illuminating the doorway. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and make a mental note of what I look like naked, with both of their mouths on me. I want to remember this moment.

Cindy asks me if this is my first time with a girl. It is. She tells me not to worry and reassures me I’m doing great. Even though I know I’m attracted to women, I quickly realize that I’m not overly attracted to her in specific, but it’s enough to keep me around. The sensory overload is exhilarating, but the only other discernable moment that I can clearly recollect is Cindy saying “look at her worship your cock!” I look up at him and think of him smiling at me in the book store.

This goes on a few more times and we’re all pretty happy with the arrangement. It’s simple and straightforward and fun. Most of my communication is with Cindy, even though Gustavo and I have known each other longer. One day Cindy calls me. “Gustavo is at home and I’m on my way to work. Please go fuck my husband.” I promptly oblige.

He fucks me like he really, really means it. It’s good. It’s better than before. We both know he’s been holding back when she was around but neither of us talk about it. I have no intentions to wreck a home and I never even consider crossing a line, I just tell myself I’ll have fun until something else comes around. We go on like this for a while, but I suspect eventually some jealousy arises and I don’t want to aggravate the delicate situation, so we just peacefully fizzle out.

Three years go by and I’m now living with a boyfriend. We have our share of problems and we are both becoming increasingly more miserable by the day. Somehow Cindy comes back in the picture and we reconnect, but in a strictly platonic way. Her and Gustavo now have a baby girl and are living a completely different lifestyle. She is increasingly more miserable too. I think our shared frustration and boredom really brings us together. We can’t believe how similar our entrapment feels and we quickly realize we live right down the street from each other. We start chatting every day and occasionally hanging out. She is my new best friend. I see Cindy in a different light now, as a different person than the one I fucked a few years before. I see all her shortcomings as a careless mother and unfaithful wife, but she’s my friend and she’s all I have, so I overlook them and remind myself that nobody is perfect and I have no right to judge her.

I’m spending the day at Cindy’s house, just venting our frustrations about our partners and life. I’m playing with the baby while she makes dinner. Gustavo comes home from work and he walks in. He looks down at me with his daughter. Everything is so different now, isn’t it, old friend? I look up at him and think about him smiling at me in the book store.

A few weeks later my boyfriend’s car battery dies. I drop him off at work and he yells at me to take care of his car while he’s working so he doesn’t have to deal with it in the morning. I text Cindy to vent to her about the new asshole thing he’s done, the way we always do. She tells me her and Gustavo can come by after dinner to help me, but later tells me she doesn’t want to wake up the baby and asks if it would it be okay if only Gustavo comes by? At that moment I could care less who comes, as long as the car gets taken care of and I don’t have to hear my boyfriend complain about it when he comes home. I really hate to hear him yell and throw things around the apartment and I will do anything to avoid his tantrums.

It’s been years since Gustavo and I have been alone together, and as he pulls up, I really start to notice just how different he looks now than he used to when we first met. I don’t feel the way I used to about him either, although I still think he’s attractive, time has changed things. I start to get unexpectedly nervous, but that feeling is quickly subdued by the immense anxiety of following my boyfriend’s instructions and getting the car battery up and running as soon as possible. Gustavo seems eager to talk to me. He asks me more questions than necessary for small talk. I can sense that he’s happy to see me. Or maybe he’s just glad to be out of the house and away from a selfish wife and crying child. Maybe it’s not about me at all, and it’s just about the fact that this is the most exciting part of his long and boring day.

For a brief moment I have a naughty thought that takes over me. It would be so easy to grab him by the jaw and kiss him right now. Would he stop me? I could take him upstairs and make him eat my pussy on the kitchen island. No- I could spite fuck him right here, in my boyfriend’s dirty car in the middle of the well-lit parking lot. That would teach him to yell orders at me like a dog, plus I suspected he had been fucking around with a girl from work anyway. And it’s not like Gustavo didn’t deserve a break, too, after working full time to support his family just to be met with dishonesty and deceit. It would just be this one time, and we would never tell anyone. Just one time to even the score.

The thought is fleeting because I know I don’t have it in me. I love my boyfriend more than anything and would never do something like that, no matter how much I think he might deserve it. So instead I’m just short and slightly dismissive during the conversation and I wrap it up quickly. I thank him multiple times and as he puts the jumper cables back in his car he turns back to say goodbye. I look up at him and think of him smiling at me in the book store.

It’s almost a year later. I’m single now. Cindy and I have had a fight but things have smoothed over and she invites me to go out with her after she finishes up dinner for her friend’s birthday. I drive out to meet her and have a smoke while I wait for her outside the venue. She finally stumbles out, clearly drunk, and excitedly comes towards me with hands up. I assume she’s coming in for a hug, but instead she snatches the cigarette out of my hand and tells me we should leave. After a failed attempt at a night out where I wasn’t having any fun, I decide to call it quits and offer to drive her home.

On this drive she drunkenly starts confessing all her wrong doings. I realize the extent of her dishonesty and plain disregard for others. It’s one thing to have fleeting thoughts of doing wrong, but to actually go through and hurt people who love you just because you can and not feel any remorse is another. I realize she’s never really been a friend. I feel sorry for Gustavo. I feel angry for myself. I become so completely disgusted by her betrayal that I consider pulling over and kicking her out of my car. I consider reaching around the back of her head, grabbing a handful of hair and smashing her face repeatedly against the dashboard, but she’s drunk and I’m sober so I don’t.

When we get to the new house they’re living in, she asks me if I want to come inside. Despite everything, I say yes. We walk through the creaky wood floors and I step carefully as to not make enough noise to wake their daughter. Gustavo peers out through the bedroom door and leaps out. He’s been struggling to put her to bed all night and he’s glad to have adult interaction. He quietly asks me if I’ll sit and smoke for a bit. I agree to. We sit on the living room floor around their coffee table and despite being completely stoned by now, I try to force myself to take a mental picture because I know this is the last time I will ever see him again. He looks much older now. Heavier. Sadder. Broken. The years have not been good to him.

Although she is still in the room, Cindy ceased to exist to me the moment she got out of my car and I fulfilled my responsibility of getting her home safely. I want so badly to give Gustavo a sign...to warn him about her and to comfort him. I don’t. I think of all the years that have gone by with him quietly in the background of my life. I make peace with the moment and accept things for what they are. But before I say goodbye one last time and leave, I look up at him and think of him smiling at me in the book store.

*names have been changed

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boundinbloodhq · 5 years

Photo

THE CORYPHEE

OVERVIEW

Full Name: Hana Leigh / Or UTP

Birthday; Age: 00 Month UTP, 1897; 122 yrs ( appears 20- 35 yrs/ or UTP )

Species: Vampire

Occupation: UTP

Sexual Orientation: UTP

Alliance: Clanless

Faceclaim: Constance Wu ( negotiable suggestions: Sophia Ali, Kara Wang, Lily Ji )

PERSONALITY

( + ) optimistic, ???, brave, ??? ( - ) jealous, narrow-sighted ???, ???

BACKGROUND

I THE PAST

All that glitters is gold but that doesn’t lead to a happy life. Groomed to be the best option for a marriage alliance between her country and others there was little time left to be a child. Between dance classes, etiquette classes and refinery moments she was left alone. The only comforts of her life being the small brief moments of reprieve where she could act like a child. But those moments don’t matter when you’re the sole hope for political alliance. They come fleeting and are intangible after too long. After her first proposed marriage crumbled she found herself alone and disgraced. Along in the Romania provance, heart broken and still with obligations to attend parties. He came like an answer to her prayers. He’d said his name was Vladimir, the name had simply caused goosebumps, as she’d heard the stories of him from other nobles. Wildly attractive, dangerous quick witted. It had been one of the better highlights of the evening. What she hadn’t expected was to wake up the next morning with little recollection of her whereabouts and the happenings of the night before.

The thirst is what got her first. Finally learning about her new life, she set off to make a fresh start. Only fresh starts don’t always come so easy. No stranger to hard work on would have to put in she did what anyone like her could. She persevered. Finding a home within the city beneath the sewers. They welcomed her with open arms and she found that this had been her calling all along.

II THE PRESENT

Despite being hunted at every turn she understands the place of the council. That doesn’t mean she agrees with it. Many of those she’s grown close to over the years didn’t ask for this life. Changed or turned on the mere whim or because of unforeseen circumstances. Perhaps it’s naive of her. Perhaps it’s the diplomatic training she endured after all this time. But she can’t help but feel that if those in the clanless could work with the clans maybe the disappearances wouldn’t be such a problem. But breaching that subject is a bit harder than striking up a lovely conversation. Still, if she doesn’t try..who will?

HEADCANONS

UTP

CONNECTIONS

THE GLADIATOR - Helping hands and a warm place to stay, she’s more than grateful to THE GLADIATOR then she can express in words. But that gratitude only goes so far. A large part of her wishes she could make him and the others see the error of their ways

THE HACKER - It’s nice to have connections on the inside. Someone to tell her things, to confide in as best she can. And while it’s a newly budding friendship THE HACKER has more than proved her faith in the clanless.

THE GOSSIP - Sometimes it pays to be in the know, while she isn’t fond of the woman or her activities she understands that sometimes you do what you need to. while they’re nowhere near friends THE GOSSIP is a resource she would be silly to ignore.

STATUS

↳ OPEN FOR APPLICATION

#open

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ephemelody · 6 years

Text

you have someone that loves you

The grip of a sword feels nothing like the pull of a trigger.

Lance sucks in a breath as combat level 5 boots up in the training deck, calluses chafing painfully around the handle of the Altean broadsword. He grits his teeth through the burn and swipes the sweat on his brow against his shoulder, mentally bracing himself for the next onslaught of drones.

More and more often now, it seems he finds himself on the training deck alone. Some days he does it on a whim, when video games have dried out his eyes or Kaltenecker isn’t feeling up for a milkshake. Other days, like this one, it’s because he needs a distraction. Something to quiet the noise in his mind.

It’s the third time this week that Shiro’s dismissed him, disregarded Lance’s opinion and input like they were worth nothing. Lance would think that he’d be used to the treatment by now, but it still hurts more than he’d like to admit every time. He didn’t have the heart to push all the blame onto Shiro though, knowing how much stress and pressure the Black Paladin has been under lately. Lance just wishes he’d be open to listening to him at least once in a while, instead of shutting him down time and time again.

It hurts the same when Hunk and Pidge leave him out, too. Not intentionally, of course, Lance knows. When they spiral into their alien tech jargon there’s simply no point for Lance to stick around, even if he wanted to. He’d only be an annoyance or a distraction, and he didn’t want to hear a rejection coming from his best friends of all people.

The sentiment’s about the same with Coran as well, and Allura’s constantly too busy with Lotor. Constantly too busy for him.

It seems like there’s no place for him anywhere. He’s surrounded by the people he cares about, and yet. Somedays, he’s never felt more alone.

The drones eventually overwhelm him, and he has to shout the end sequence command before nearly collapsing onto the ground, leaning heavily against his sword. His entire body aches from exertion and no doubt multiple bruises, but there’s a pleasant, numbing rush, too. It does the trick, tranquilizing the most violent of his thoughts.

A part of Lance wonders if this is why Keith likes to train so much.

“Thought you were the sharpshooter and I was the samurai,” a familiar voice says. Lance nearly loses his balance, body nosediving forward, but luckily he manages to right himself. Cool as a cucumber.

When he turns to look at Keith, he doesn’t want to think too carefully about the relief that washes over him, warm like the summer tide of the ocean.

“You are,” he agrees, and he’s surprised as much as Keith is by his easy omission, his casual slip of tongue. He quickly backtracks. “But you know me: strong, handsome, multi-talented. Not to mention devilishly handsome.” He sees Keith roll his eyes with a quirk of his lips. A light bloom of warmth unfurls from his chest at the sight. “Can’t help it if I pick up a new skill or two. Better keep up, mullet.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Keith says, and joins Lance as he flops onto the floor, sitting cross-legged beside him. Their knees brush, but Keith doesn’t move away, so Lance doesn’t either. He’s suddenly acutely aware of how sweaty and gross he must look though, and tries hard not to panic at the thought. It’s only Keith. Why does Lance have to care about looking nice for him?

“So uh, what are you doing here? Kolivan visiting?” Lance sets his bayard down in his lap and wills himself not to fidget. Not to mess with his hair. Not to concentrate on the heat at the place where his knee and Keith’s knee touch.

Keith nods, seeming oblivious to Lance’s woes as usual. Butthead. “He’s briefing Shiro right now on our last mission. Both Commanders Ladnok and Trugg have been neutralized along with their fleets, so that’s two less Galra Commanders to worry about.”

“Nice, good to hear you guys are getting a lot done out there.”

Keith smiles in response, but doesn’t say any more. Lance kind of wishes he would, considering how long they haven’t seen each other, but the other boy seems to be as tight-lipped as ever.

Something’s bothering him though, Lance can tell. It’s in the rise of his shoulders and the clench of his hands, twisting around his knife. How he won’t meet Lance’s eyes. This is a Keith who has something on his mind but doesn’t quite know how to put it into words yet. A Keith Lance grew familiar with during his brief role as the former Red Paladin’s right-hand man.

Quietly, Lance can admit to himself that he sometimes misses it. The feeling of being Keith’s partner, his equal. Someone who Keith could trust to confide in and find support from. A rival, teammate, and a friend.

They could’ve still had that, if Keith hadn’t left him.

“What’s on your mind, mullet?” Lance asks, trying to sound laid-back about it, a part of him scared Keith might clam up and run away. It almost seems like he might — whole body stiffening along with Lance’s breath in his throat — but then the tension loosens, his shoulders falling lax.

When he lifts his gaze, Lance meets it.

“I met my mom,” he says. The smile he gives doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Lance, on the other hand, couldn’t be more ecstatic over the news. “Keith, that’s amazing! Holy quiznak. What’s she like?”

Keith’s eyes crinkle at his reaction, but it’s still not honest. Still nowhere near as happy as Lance would think he’d be. “Her name’s Krolia. She’s Galra.”

“And?”

“That’s,” Keith starts. Then stops, the grimace cutting deep. “That’s it. I don’t know anything else about her.”

The sigh that escapes him is heavy with exhaustion. His brows are so creased Lance just knows he’s going to get premature wrinkles in less than a year, and his grip is knuckle-white on the hilt of his knife. Unthinkingly, Lance places his hand on top of Keith’s knee, thumb stroking against the dip of bone.

It had become something of a reflex for him before Keith left, providing the other boy comfort through touch. Lance has always been a tactile person, and Keith, though surprised at first, would always calm down easier when he had a hand on his back or a shoulder to lean on. At one point, Lance had the craziest thought that Keith even sought it from him, hackles raised until Lance would touch his skin.

That hasn’t changed, even after months apart. Keith struggles to voice his emotions, and Lance patiently waits for him.

“I want her to— I want her to feel like my mom, but… She’s a stranger to me. And every time I look at her all I can think is, why did you leave me?”

Lance feels his own heart throb, sore and sharp. “So ask. Talk to her.”

Keith laughs, but it’s an ugly, half sound. “You know I’m not a talker.”

“I know.” Lance offers a faint smile. His hand shifts to apply broader strokes down Keith’s calves, movements only partially conscious, his focus on Keith’s comfort. “Are you scared of what her answer might be?”

It takes a minute, but Keith eventually nods. Lance gives his leg a squeeze, and wracks his brain for how best to address his worries. He thinks of his own mom, back on Earth: amber in the gilt of afternoon, arms dusted in flour, in dirt, holding Lance close. She smells like honey, and the lilies in their backyard. Like home.

“You know,” he begins, gaze dropping low to Keith’s collarbone, not quite able to meet his eyes. “My mom used to tell me and my siblings that, when each of us were born, we all tore a piece of her heart from her. That’s why it hurt so much giving birth.” At Keith’s alarmed look, Lance laughs just a little. “I know, we were horrified when she told us that as kids, too. My mom does not sugarcoat her words.”

A weight ties in his throat, iron bitter. It’s hard to swallow.

“But, I think what she was trying to say was that, we all had a piece of her love inside us. That her love is always there, whether she’s angry at us for making a mess in the house or far away working and can’t hold us. She was telling us that her love is unconditional, and forever, and that we should never have doubt in it.”

The weight burns, and it’s hard to hold back the tears. God, he’s supposed to be comforting Keith, not crying.

“I know not all moms are the same, and some can be pretty shitty, even. But I know most moms love their kids, and that abandoning them feels like losing a piece of their heart.”

He startles a bit when Keith’s own hand covers his own. The touch grounds him enough that he can blink away the tears and look at Keith, smiling encouragingly.

“Talk to your mom, Keith. I think you should give her the chance to say her peace.”

In his own heart, Lance has faith that Keith’s mom must love him; must have only left Keith because she had to. Keith has to come to his own conclusion though, whether to let his mom back into his life or not. He’s always been more guarded up front.

But past those walls, he’s like an open book. One that Lance can study the pages of, memorize every expression and body language.

Keith clenches his jaw when he’s thinking. Keith holds Lance’s hand when he’s unsure.

“Okay, I will,” he eventually says. There’s clarity in his eyes now. A tentative hope. “Thank you, Lance.”

“Anytime.”

Lance throws a toothy grin before extracting himself from Keith, flopping down onto his back on the floor. The exhaustion has sunk in, and if he’s not careful, he might just fall asleep here on the deck. Keith stretches down on his side with Lance, body facing him and jaw propped on his hand. He’s gazing at Lance in a strange way that makes him feel warm.

“You, um. How are you doing?”

Laughter bubbles in Lance’s throat at Keith’s awkward but earnest attempt to return comfort. He smiles at him, eyelids drooping sleepily. “I’m fine, good. Just buffing up, you know. Trying to stay on top of my game.”

“Seems like you’re doing good,” Keith says with a smile of his own. If Lance wasn’t so tired, he might’ve caught the once-over Keith gives him, eyes slow and appreciative. After a moment though, that gaze clouds over, and that Lance does catch. “The team seems good.”

Without me, is the implication left unspoken. Lance hears it all the same, the knowledge that Keith feeling unneeded sinking in like a shipwreck, hollowing out his chest.

“It’s not the same without you,” he says, fervent and fierce. He pins Keith with a glare, wanting to wrangle that silly idea out of his head. Keith gives a wry smile.

“Who would you make fun of, right?”

“Yeah, sure, but more than that.” So much more than that. “I— I miss you.” And, “It’s lonely here without you.”

Keith looks struck, as if someone had landed a solid punch. Lance closes his eyes so that he won’t overanalyze everything he sees, overthink what he just admitted. He won’t take it back. He’s too tired to be anything else but honest.

Suddenly, the ground falls away from him, strong arms hooking around his back and below his knees. He yelps as he’s swept up and tucked against a broad chest, head pillowing against armor plating. His arms loop instinctively to hold fast, pulling Keith closer even as his heart hammers.

“Wha—” he tries to ask as Keith begins walking like Lance weighs nothing. They exit the training deck and down the hall, Lance unable to see direction when he’s focused on the cut of Keith’s jaw and the pink of his ear. His hair curls against the nape of his neck, covering the delicate skin there. Lance, high on exhaustion fumes he tells himself, wants to kiss that patch of skin and watch it color.

“You’re not sleeping on the training deck,” Keith says, and even through the armor, Lance can feel the rumble of his voice. “You’ll complain about ruining your skin tomorrow and then no one in the Castle will hear the end of it.”

“Ah, how chivalrous of you,” Lance teases, quietly thrilled that Keith remembers that detail of him. “Thinking of everyone else’s benefit.”

They make their way to Lance’s room, which is a bit of a walk from the training deck, but maybe Keith’s taking it slow. Lance wiggles in his hold a few times — partly to be a hard-ass, partly because he enjoys the feel of Keith’s hold tightening around him every time.

“Who’s been teaching you how to wield?” Keith asks, resolutely looking forward down the hallway, ignoring Lance’s giggles.

“Allura’s been teaching me,” Lance answers. His good mood falters a little when he remembers why he was practicing alone in the first place. “But lately she’s too busy researching Altean alchemy with Lotor.”

“I can teach you. If you’d like. I’ll be here tomorrow, too.” Keith says it so casually and easily, but Lance’s heart nearly backflips out of his chest. He hides his face at the base of Keith’s throat, refusing to turn even as he feels Keith shift to look down at him in question.

Lance doesn’t trust the heat on his cheeks, the sting in his eyes.

“I’d like that,” he mumbles. “Thanks, Keith.”

“Anytime,” Keith says, echoing Lance’s earlier sentiment. Lance peeks a smile at him that Keith returns, looking away after a moment to continue through the castle to Lance’s dorm. In the back of his mind, Lance hopes, selfishly and absurdly, that the walk there never ends.

He doesn’t feel so alone anymore.

#had to put this down after s5 #klance #klance fic #my writing #vld s5

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withyouandthemoon · 6 years

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I should have finished this a lot sooner, and somewhat more coherently, but this is the best I’ve got. It’s my take on Klaus’ thoughts after his scenes with Caroline in TO 5x01, and I kind of just let it flow, so prepare for the messiness I guess. Although essentially a Klaroline drabble this is more Klaus-centric than you would probably imagine.

When the Curtains Close

In all those years spent away from her, Klaus did not always think of Caroline when he drank champagne, regardless of the resemblance between the clear bubbly golden liquid and the girl he preserved in his deepest memory.

Champagne was not their thing, not exactly.

Champagne with Caroline, with the light banter and the meaningful smiles and the thousand messages that they unintendedly gave during equally unintended prolonged eye contacts, that was their thing.

But every time he did think of her with the glass in his hand and the liquor buzzing on his tongue, he could not help but secretly ponder what could have been.

He could argue that what was done was done, and that every happening in his life, planned or not, led him to where he was at the time and even with all the chaos going around, it was not a completely regrettable place.

But that was the thing with the true cravings of your life. You would not ever stop wondering about those other paths that were long missed, those parallel timelines that got physicists talk a mile a minute in their awkward, stuttered, esoteric, but all the same brilliant speeches. Arrogant as he was, Klaus was not prone to claim any scientific prowess on his part, but a millennium on earth had at least taught him to keep an open mind.

Which could be a serious problem at times, because he didn’t know which was crueler to himself, to believe that there were actually versions of himself out there enjoying what was ripped away form him, or shut down the possibilities all together.

Rarely did he dwell on the subject, and when he did his attitude frequently altered. But right this second, standing on the ornately-decorated balcony of the building owned by the Gatineauxs, sipping the champagne he found in the family’s much-praised cellar, he found himself strangely comforted by the notion that in another universe, there would be another glass in front of him held by a smiling Caroline, her eyes lit up and her cheeks flushed from the breath-taking view of the Seine.

He must concede, the building was, all things considered, a valuable piece of architecture. And not just because around the vast space now lingered her special scent, one that was quite different from what he once remembered, but with which he already felt familiar, once again.

In retrospect, that was probably the reason why he didn’t sense her entrance before she showed herself. It was not until he felt her firm yet warm grip around his throat that his brain registered her smell, sweet and floral like before, but richer now, with a hint of intoxicating danger, like fine aged wine. And it was that scent that hit him as strongly as being pushed into a wall, dizzying him with the afterthought that he would smell its residue on his bloodied clothes for days.

In the heat of the moment he’d almost considered forgoing changing altogether.

He could feel that heavenly aroma being washed away as the cleaning crew he’d compelled worked downstairs. The bodies were handled discreetly, and the building thoroughly rid of any traces of the murder, the way he assumed Caroline would have wanted. Granted it was not necessary for him to stick around and see the whole thing through, but he’d indulged himself the time of a glass of champagne.

Somehow he felt close to her here although she stayed for no more than half an hour (another testimony to his theory that all things nice are either fragile or fleeting). He knew that hypothetically he could just hop on a plane and be in Mystic Falls in less than a day. She would be expecting him even, though not for the reasons he greedily wished for. But she’d be right there.

And yet her ghost of an existence here, backed by her brief visit, seemed more vivid and real than anything hypothetical. So real that he couldn’t help but revel in it just a little longer, when the clock is relentlessly ticking in the back of his mind.

Much to his annoyance, half a minute later that looming sense of urgency visualized in front of him as the freckled redhead that was obviously in charge of the cleaning team, “sir, we have finished, and the other guys have left here as you asked.”

In a flash Klaus pinned him to the wall, his hand pushing down hard on the redhead’s chest, “good job, mate. But next time do bear it in mind that I prefer when people knock before they enter.”

The man was shaking like a leaf under his hold, “I…I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t thinking…”

“Apparently.” Klaus pulled the corners of his mouth to form a half-smirk, “and here I thought you’d be more prudent given your obvious fear for me.”

The shaking got more violent, and Klaus could hear the low whimpers squeezing out of the guy’s tight throat. With a pensive look he dilated his pupils, “do not be afraid. I will not kill you. Otherwise I would have asked your colleagues to do the cleaning after, wouldn’t you agree?”

Carefully taking trembling breaths the redhead nodded, “yeah, that…that makes sense.”

Huffing a laugh, Klaus released him and took another sip from the glass, “I have to confess I have never compelled anyone to not be afraid before.” He shrugged at the man’s confused look, “you could say I’m feeling a little…experimental today.”

“You see, I usually enjoy it when the person I compel knows exactly what’s happening-that they are losing control of their own mind and body, and there’s nothing they can do about it. I can just smell their fear and despair, emanating from every pore of their shriveled bodies. It’s quite addictive.” He licked his lower lip before quirking an eyebrow, “but someone once told me that I don’t ‘connect’ with people. So I thought I’d give her way a try.”

Klaus circled the redhead, assuming an innocent facial expression that suggested his interest, “now, tell me, mate, what is your name?”

“Kip.”

Lifting his eyebrows, Klaus tutted, “well, that is certainly an unorthodox choice. So, Kip, do I sense an American accent?”

Kip nodded, scratching his head, “yeah, Tennessee, actually. I thought I’d do some traveling, so I just packed up my bag and used all my savings on a plane ticket.”

“A rather courageous move.” Klaus fingered the rim of the glass, “stupid, of course, but courageous nonetheless. I suppose you finance your travels by doing household labor then?”

“Oh no,” Kip laughed, “I’m staying for the time being. Paris is pretty cool.”

“Perhaps not in those exact words, but I agree with the sentiment.” Klaus let the champagne run through his throat before continuing, “do you know what I love the most about Paris? Come on, mate, venture a guess.” He prompted at Kip’s blank face.

“Um…the Louvre?”

Klaus laughed. Such a clichéd assumption, but he could easily imagine Caroline coming back with the same line, along with at least three jabs about him being an artist. Or if she was in a particularly bad mood she would probably throw the Eiffel Tower in his face just to tick him off.

“Such an unoriginal thought-pun unintended.” Klaus smirked at the joke, not bothering to explain, “though I guess I can’t blame you. It’s hard for mere humans to see through the distracting glamor of earthly delights. Don’t take me wrong, I am a big fan of the museum, but it hardly speaks the essence of the city.”

He swishes the remaining liquid in the glass, looking out the balcony, “the city itself is the most beautiful paradox I’ve ever seen, a delicate balance of cruelty and valor, vulgarity and refinement, luxurious indulgence and excruciating struggles.” Half-closing his eyes he took in a deep breath, “you can detect in the air the smell of arguably the finest cuisine in the world, mixed with years and years of bloodshed.”

“Oh, right, as a matter of fact you can’t.” He turned back to face Kip, who was looking as clueless as ever, “you are not a vampire.”

All of a sudden the deceiving calmness was sucked out of his whole being, and the consuming pit in the center of his chest felt like a rapidly-spreading tumor. Every bit of his flesh and blood was being eaten away by the cutting realization that he was telling all these things to the wrong ears, at the wrong time.

All his life there was never a right time.

No right time to reunite his family who he have wronged and who have wronged him, no right time to bond with his daughter who was this…this half-stranger tied to his rotten bones by their cursed blood for all eternity, no right time for damned Paris, Rome and Tokyo that he once promised Caroline out of a stupid whim but had never quite forgotten since the second those words slipped through his lips as if they had a will of their own. Not even a chance to make a proper seemingly-effortless reference to them in their limited time together.

Before he knew it he was looming over Kip, one hand around his throat in a choke-hold, his veins and fangs protruding like the monster inside him, “well I’ve tried it and the verdict’s just in. This ‘connecting’ thing is boring as hell.”

He didn’t connect with people because there was nothing to connect to. He may be someone worth knowing according to a certain blonde vampire, but apparently they are not. These pathetic little creatures living every day with beating hearts and pumping blood when he hadn’t felt alive for years.

Not until today.

He lowered his head for the vibrating pulse in Kip’s neck, when a flash of golden light from the guy’s shirt pocket caught his darkened eyes. Keeping Kip still with a mere look, he reached down, only to fish out a tiny piece of jewelry with a golden gem in the center.

Caroline’s earring.

Klaus held it midair between two fingers, the delicate accessory trembling uncontrollably like his hidden heart, yet his voice quiet and deadly, “where did you get this, mate?”

Kip shrugged, unaware of the imminent danger under Klaus’ previous compulsion, “found it downstairs in the utility room. Someone must have dropped it.”

Klaus sucked in a breath. It made sense. He remembered making the trip to the room with Caroline, in search for those cleaning supplies. If he closed his eyes for a second he could even picture the earrings in his head, dangling left and right with Caroline’s swift moves.

It was a peaceful, even light-hearted few minutes for them both. The heavier subjects were put on hold because Caroline was on task mode, and he was contented with simply watching her from his vantage point against the door frame.

“Klaus the Mad? Seriously?” He remembered Caroline throwing him an incredulous look over her shoulder while rummaging through the cabinets, “that’s a little too dramatic even for you.”

“Says the drama major.” He never let go an opportunity to tease her.

“Yeah well, I’ve had my fill of all that jazz.” Caroline shook her head a little, “and it’s not what it’s cooked up to be.”

“I beg to differ, love. It’s exactly what it’s cooked up to be.” Klaus smirked, his voice thickening like velvet, “the spotlight, the hot rush, the heady illusions, love, death and everything in between wrapped up into mere hours of emotional inebriation and abandon. It’s hard to resist the appeal.”

“True.” Caroline inclined her head slightly to the side thoughtfully, a few strands of hair sticking to her soft silky neck, and all Klaus wanted at the moment was to brush them aside and press his lips there, tracing their paths with his scorching breath. The only thing keeping him remotely sane was Caroline’s voice, “but when you have eternity on your hands, you have to kind of change your perception of these…oh right, human conventions.”

“Now that,” Klaus’ smirk widened, “sounds incredibly wise.”

Caroline snorted at that, of course, but not without a little beautiful laugh. “It somehow resembles our human lives, all those drama.” She had a tender but distant look in her eyes, “so bright and blinding, almost desperate, like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Again, I could understand the appeal.”

“We’ve had our stage time, Klaus.” Her eyes pierced him and Klaus wanted to argue that as long as she was looking at him like that he would always feel in the spotlight, but he didn’t because her look, like any spotlight, wouldn’t last, “and every one of us have to decide what happens after the curtains close.”

He searched her deep blue eyes for a long while, his voice almost hesitant, “then I guess it’s a good thing we have endless time on our side.”

“You are damn right it is.” Caroline smiled with a flip of her hair, her earrings shining like a silent whisper, “’cause it’s the hardest decision yet.”

Indeed it is. Klaus bit his teeth as the single earring now shone again in front of his eyes, which were slowly returning to their natural color.

He inhaled long and deep, letting all those haunting screams and bellows inside of him die down. He’d always been good at controlling his monster, but he certainly didn’t always choose to rein it in. And he didn’t plan to.

Smiling devilishly he downed the last of the champagne in the glass, and held it over to Kip, “I’m feeling a bit peckish, mate. Care to donate?”

With Kip’s nod he bit down on the man’s wrist and held it above the glass. When it became almost full he released him, and once again dilated him pupils, “thank you, mate, you may leave now. Forget everything that happened here. And take the bottle.” He gestured to the champagne sitting on the mantelpiece, “it’s quite good.”

The second the taste of the blood hit Klaus’ tongue, a small smile danced its way to the corner of his lips. B positive. Thought so.

He downed the warm liquid in one long gulp, savoring every drop as well as the view of a blood-colored Paris in front of his disfigured monster eyes.

In all his years roaming the continents, he’d tried almost all things imaginable to humans as well as vampires, a good proportion of which Paris had witnessed. He knew the land like the back of his hand. One time he flashed around the whole city at his top speed, palaces and brothels, churches and pubs, men and women in silk or in rags, past and present, all blurring into a glowing feast of flowing colors. He’d painted that picture afterwards, what others deemed an abstract portrait of his impressions but in fact the unaltered still from his vision.

It was all about the perception.

And now, in two seconds’ time he’d have drained the blood in the glass, and he’d for the millionth time flash into the city that had accompanied him all through his years. Only this time, he knew that there would be a trace of her in that glowing blur of colors.

And that would be enough for him. For now.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction #my fic #this all looks like drawn-out nonsense to me now but i'll just put it out there #cause my overflowing feelings about this ep will never forgive me if i don't #i'll probably look it over again tomorrow but now i'll go to bed #with a somewhat clean conscience lol #yay #z writes

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gentlemanbeggarblog · 6 years

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Star Wars: The Last Jedi Review - Warning Spoilers

As a new Star Wars is released, the excitement, intrigue and love for the franchise covers everyone’s eyes in a rose coloured tint. Except this guy. The thing about The Last Jedi is, is it isn’t very good.

Star Wars: Episode VIII: The Last Jedi is familiar yet too different, it is funny when it really shouldn’t be, it is over the top when it should be restrained. Writer/director Rian Johnson has clearly bitten off more than he can chew especially off the backs of his smaller films Brick (2005), The Brothers Bloom (2008) and Looper (2012).

If the world of Star Wars came back in The Force Awakens it has left this universe and gone elsewhere. In a world where Trump is president and racism and social inequality is prevalent more than ever, people are naming this the darkest timeline. This film helps prove that theory. This is not the Star Wars you remember or wanted.

The Force Awakens lived off the nostalgia of the original trilogy while introducing new characters and a not so new story, The Last Jedi seems to throw nostalgia and characterization out the window and launch into what can only be described as fan fiction, that is only legitimized as it is actually a canon film.

It is surprising that after the grief The Force Awakens received for being a replica of A New Hope, that The Last Jedi copies the story beats from The Empire Strikes Back. We start with the rebels leaving a planet as the clutches of the Empire, sorry, First Order close in while our hero is on a distant and barely inhabited planet in search of an old Jedi master who just wants to be left alone. As our hero’s friends travel through space to escape the villains in black, they get to meet new characters and find themselves being betrayed before our hero reunites with them and with newfound power tries to save what is left of the day.

Visually, there are moments that are the most gorgeous in the entire series: Supreme Leader Snoke’s red on black throne room and Vice Admiral Holdo’s Hyperspace sacrifice, but without a strong story and likeable characters to follow, relying on visuals alone is not enough.

The storyline involving Rey, Luke and Kylo Ren is the most interesting and captivating but when it deviates to the other superfluous storylines, it sags and you realize how much the new and newest characters don’t fit into this universe.

Focusing on the original characters, Johnson has altered the way in which they will forever be seen. Leia is now more force trained than ever, even though her power came through emotion and empathy. It could be argued that as she was near death, her unconscious mind took over and saved her, but considering she didn’t do anything for the rest of the film and that Carrie Fisher has passed after filming, it would have been a very effective death for the character.

Luke is now Yoda: crazy, alone and wants to die. His reason for leaving everything is that he felt the darkness in Ben Solo and got caught in the brief moment of attempting to murder him that he left everything he believed in and everything that the original trilogy set the character up as. Here we have a very different man to the one that was willing to sacrifice his life just to prove that there was still good in his father who was the biggest mass murderer in their universe. In Empire Strikes Back Luke leaves his training early to save his friends, here Luke won’t leave his isolation to even be with his family. This turn for the character doesn’t hold true to what was previously built but works within the context of the film, except for Ben Solo’s reason to destroy everything that Luke had built.

Kylo Ren is one of the strongest characters in this film, changing from a petulant child to a soldier that is torn between what he knows is right and his orders. Adam Driver works hard to show the turmoil inside of Ren but when push comes to shove at the end of the film, this turmoil seems to be gone, rendering the power play between light and dark within him moot. It is not explained why he choose to massacre the other padawan’s in Luke’s temple before burning it to the ground after Luke’s attempt at confronting Ben.

Finn and Poe have the most superfluous storylines, so off the mark in fact that they don’t do anything heroic and end up getting more than half of the Resistance fleet killed. Their misadventures introduce us to the newest characters of the Star Wars universe. Kelly Marie Tran’s Rose, Benicio Del Toro’s creatively named DJ and Laura Dern’s Vice Admiral Holdo. Both Rose and DJ are tied for the worst character, while Holdo should have been replaced with a character that we cared about, Admiral Ackbar anyone?

Rose seems shoehorned in as Poe can’t journey with Finn to the casino planet (with it’s heavy use of CGI characters, exploration of the world and scenes aimed at children – this felt like it belonged in the prequel trilogy). Here they need to find a hacker and then hack the First Order ship tracking the Resistance convoy. What we’re given is this paper thin character that explains to Finn how war profiteering is bad, gambling is bad and that slave kids are bad. She also delivers the most groan inducing line of this series so far, ‘We’ll beat them by protecting the ones we love’, before kissing a non-reciprocating Finn and passing out or dying. I’m hoping for the latter. This is also after she knocked out both her and Finn’s fighter so Finn doesn’t kamikaze himself into a giant laser beam that would have blown open the base shielding the remaining Resistance fighters.

DJ is a stuttering hacker that is only in this film so that there can be a betrayal. That’s it. We don’t care too much about the character nor his relationship to Finn and Rose, so the shock-horror of his duplicity barely registers as anything too important. Holdo has the most to do here, but the audience has no connection to her, even though she was doing the right thing all along and Poe is actually the traitorous scum that nearly got them all killed.

This film delves deeper into Poe’s character and by that we are shown a shallow rapscallion with a death wish that will do whatever he wants because he believes himself to be a hero. In the end he doesn’t gain the audience’s trust back but doesn’t seem to have any guilt over his terrible decisions. Holdo’s sacrifice should have been swapped out with Poe, resulting in a more emotive moment over a loss of a mainstay character.

After two films, I still don’t get who Finn is. What I know about him is that he was kidnapped as a child, brainwashed by space Nazi’s, became their janitor, worked his way up to a soldier, then during his first mission out his indoctrination didn’t work, decided it wasn’t for him and ran away. This film adds little else to the character. He likes to make light of most situations but most importantly he has no idea what he is doing and doesn’t really seem like someone who was groomed to be a soldier.

John Williams is back again as composer but here the music doesn’t seem to be iconic or special and that really sums up this film, there is nothing special about it.

The Force Awakens opened up so many questions and possibilities that aren’t actually answered here but swept under the rug to not be explored again. Supreme Leader Snoke, who we only saw via giant hologram last time, makes his full appearance where we see that he is actually a powerful Sith Lord and …. That’s all. We don’t know who he is, where he came from or why he cares about Rey and Ren nor will we find out. The possible love story between Rey and Finn is now gone, replaced by Rose’s affections for Finn and the complicated feelings between Rey and Ren as they try to convince each other that their side is the best.

The film tries to create a serious tone around the theme of failure. Everyone fails in this film or reflects on their failures; Luke failing Ben Solo, Leia failing the galaxy, Kylo Ren failing Supreme Leader Snoke. This theme fits with the second movie of trilogies being the lowest point for all the characters. It is the turn before the heroic ending, except this film is so light hearted and filled with jokes that the weight of characters failures fail to land. The film starts on a joke, rendering earnest and serious characters into baffled and bumbling idiots that were only reserved for droids in the original. There are also ridiculous moments that leave the audience unable to suspend their disbelief any more because these moments don’t belong; BB-8 controlling an AT-ST or the one lone ship among wreckage and flame that is unarmed on the horizon and in Finn and Rose’s line of sight.

The use of the force in this film is overused and everyone is over-powered. If you reflect on the original trilogy Luke had a tenuous grasp of his telekinetic powers after two years of training. Here Rey, and even a little slave boy, can use these powers on a whim. Anakin Skywalker, who was apparently the most powerful Jedi and the Chosen One, didn’t even have this power without training. It’s moments like these that lack credibility in the already well-constructed franchise. Even though these things aren’t real and don’t exist they still need to conform to their own rules and sense of believability, it’s why Superman flying backwards to change time doesn’t make sense.

Episode IX needs to hurry up and be released so that this entire trilogy can be ignored like that fourth Indiana Jones film that never came out.

Fans of Star Wars will flock to the film and so will most regular cinema goers, so it isn’t about whether it is worth seeing the film but really its worth in the mythology that is the Star Wars universe. So given that, it’s worth? Wait until the New Year where audiences will die down, find your cheapest cinema and see it there, or just wait until it is on Netflix.

#star wars #the last jedi #episode VIII #review #spoilers #gentelmanbeggar

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logh-icebergs · 7 years

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Episode 15: The Battle of Amlitzer Starzone

October 10-15, 796/487. To the surprise of absolutely no one with any common sense, Reinhard’s admirals make quick work of several of the Alliance fleets, killing a bunch of redshirt admirals in the process. Unable to swallow the humiliation of withdrawal, Lazzll orders the remaining forces to gather in the Amlitzer starzone, where with their powers combined they can...I dunno, kill slightly more people on their way to defeat I guess. Any lingering dreams of a miraculous turning of the tides are crushed when Kircheis uses the newfangled technology of directional Seffle particles to destroy a minefield and bring his fleet of 30,000 ships to the battle as reinforcements.

Poplan!

Olivier Poplan showed up way back in “My Conquest” in the role of a rather dopey comic relief character, one of the tools the movie used to show us a variety of perspectives on the ongoing battles. We’ve glimpsed him once or twice since, but in this episode for the first time we get to focus on him a bit more; and the first thing that the OVA wants us to know about Poplan is that he’ll take any opportunity, even the twenty seconds before his Spartanian fighter is about to launch into battle, to flirt with a cute girl:

To be fair, she is indeed really cute…

There is a lot to say about this incredibly brief interaction. What Poplan actually says is “na, ii darou?” which translates most literally to “hey, isn’t it okay/good?” There are a couple factors that make this incredibly vague phrase feel like a flirtation or come-on: the way he leans toward her with a slight smile; the lowered voice. Her response reinforces this read by treating his actions as inappropriate to the current situation. (What she says is “komarimasu, tai-i, konna toki ni”—”that would be troublesome at a time like this, Lt.”) Is she reading him correctly? Could his question have actually just been about the progress of the repairs on his ship?

Well, yes, it could have been, but the accompanying body language and tone are flirty enough that at the very least there’s innuendo built into his words. Of course as she points out, this is a ridiculous time for him to be propositioning anyone; their interaction is immediately interrupted by an officer berating him for being the last plane out, Poplan takes off, and (spoiler!) we never see this woman again. What on earth, then, was the point of that twenty-second scene?

I’ve mentioned that Cazellnu plays an important role in the show by embodying some of the heteronormative structures of Alliance society: Not only does he himself have a picture-perfect wife and kids (we’ll see them soon I promise!), but we’ll also hear him explicitly voice views about the righteousness of marriage and procreation. Poplan plays a similar and complementary role, giving voice to another side of heteronormativity: the pressure for men to constantly pursue women as sexual conquests. His introduction in this scene emphasizes that sex is so constantly on his mind that he can’t resist flirting even as he flies into battle—and of course that very idea, of men as sex-obsessed and unable to control themselves around women in any situation, is another widespread norm. True to this introduction, Poplan discusses sex constantly: bragging about women he’s slept with in the past; teasing other characters about not sleeping with enough women; pontificating about the virtues of sleeping around (with women). This potentially puts characters who don’t relate to this sort of hypersexualized straight masculinity in somewhat uncomfortable situations.

There’s another angle to Poplan’s strange timing here: The fact that his ambiguous proposition is guaranteed not to go anywhere at the moment makes it entirely performative. In fact if you pay close attention to Poplan (and we will!), something around 95% of what we see involves performing or projecting heterosexuality rather than, well, actually enacting it. Obviously that doesn’t mean that the stuff he says is insincere or false, but ambiguity is always worth keeping an eye on in this show.

...and Konev!

No discussion of Poplan is complete without talking about Ivan Konev, the other star Spartanian pilot of Yang’s fleet and Poplan’s constant companion. When Poplan discovers that the firing sights on his Spartanian are misaligned, Konev covers for him to help get him back to the relative safety of the ship, leading to in my opinion the most intense scene of the whole episode.

We’ve seen Poplan and Konev deal with the stress of battle by treating it like a game: betting on the outcome back in “My Conquest,” and generally keeping up a running tally of their respective kills for bragging rights. But these are in fact life and death battles, not some video game; and faced with malfunctioning equipment that put his life and the lives of the rest of his squadron in heightened danger, Poplan’s fear and frustration come out as anger against the officer in charge of maintenance. It’s Konev who intervenes.

Poplan’s expression and posture soften the moment Konev puts a hand on his shoulder. Just that one instant establishes Konev as a grounding presence and someone Poplan has a deep connection with.

The unguarded fear that flashes in Poplan’s eyes for just a second here gives me chills.

Shit has gotten serious, and Konev’s words don’t soften that reality; but his steady expression and touch quell Poplan’s rage and help him channel his emotions into renewed focus on the battle.

Interestingly, this exchange comes to us entirely courtesy of the anime team. In the novels it’s Schenkopp who pulls Poplan off of the other officer, in a much more abbreviated version of the same scene. (Poplan actually holds a grudge against Schenkopp for stopping him before he could more thoroughly teach the guy a lesson.) The anime writers made a specific choice to change and expand this scene to show us this different side of Poplan and Konev’s dynamic. Of course we’re not here to catalogue all of the slight deviations from the novels; but a change like this suggests to me that Poplan and Konev’s relationship is one they’re particularly interested in developing, so we should be paying attention.

War

This sentiment echoes Yang’s tea speech from episode 6; finding themselves in this battle, his main goal is to find a way for as many people to survive as possible.

Zooming out from Poplan and Konev’s struggles in their little corner of the fight, the overall battle seems to go exactly how Reinhard drew it up and exactly how Yang and some of the other Alliance commanders feared. Yang places himself on damage control duty as much as possible, knowing from the beginning that their whole fleet is at a huge disadvantage especially after Reinhard’s successful strategy to tax their supplies.

During the various scattered battles we get some fun peeks at the different fighting styles of Reinhard’s admirals, for example when Mittermeyer swoops so swiftly into the midst of an Alliance fleet that he actually has to back up a bit before they can effectively fire at the enemy ships...

...While meanwhile Kircheis just stands on the bridge of his extremely red flagship like the badass he is and calmly encourages any Alliance forces that come near to surrender.

After retreating to minimize losses against Kempf’s fleet, Yang finds himself facing Kircheis and outnumbered four to one; avoiding the temptation to surrender, he concocts some sort of plan involving a U-formation and trying to attack Kircheis’s forces from three sides at once, but since he’s ordered away to Amlitzer in the middle of that fight we’ll never know what the outcome of this tactic would have been.

This gif is interesting for two reasons: one, everyone’s utter shock at Yang admitting out loud that if it weren’t for concern for the other remaining fleets he’d be tempted to surrender; and two, the ridiculous redraws that keep switching back and forth—Yang’s character design, as well as the entire background, change repeatedly in the course of these few seconds. What the hell.

The main point I want to make about this battle is, well, actually how uneventful it is. LoGH is about understanding cause and effect, inevitability, ways of thinking that lead to different outcomes. We’ve known for several episodes that the Alliance went into this invasion underprepared and for the wrong reasons, while Reinhard has carefully taken steps to weaken the Alliance forces and give himself even more of an upper hand. There are no shocking twists here: The invasion is a disaster, as it should have been, and Reinhard’s (and Oberstein’s) strategy is rewarded with a convincing victory.

Right, Bittenfeld, that's...pretty much what I said.

Stray Tidbits

This brief interaction between Reinhard and Oberstein near the end of the episode is a nice microcosm of the dynamic we’ve seen develop in previous episodes: Oberstein being kind of baffled by the concept of Reinhard fretting about one of his admirals more than the others. Hang in there Oberstein, maybe someday you’ll underst—nah, actually, probably not. Reinhard’s “damn you caught me” expression as he tries to claim he was “just checking” is too cute.

Don’t worry Reinhard! Kircheis just has to gaze at Alliance commanders with those calm blue eyes and they surrender to his every whim, you know that.

If you’re watching on Hidive, I hate to say it but for once I’ve got to score one for the fansubs: As far as I can tell what Yang says here (after Frederica reminds him that Julian has told him to cut down on drinking) is just “so you two have joined forces?” (The verb is 連帯する, rentai suru, “to have solidarity/share responsibility.”) Cute (if a bit weird) as the Hidive version is, it's a definite stretch.

And while we're at it, here's the original laserdisc version, complete with random blue tube in the background.

Hidive subbers, I would read your fanfic but for the official translations let's stick to what they actually say...

Am I a terrible person if this gif just makes me laugh?

#Legend of Galactic Heroes #Legend of the Galactic Heroes #author: Rebecca #Amlitzer #battle #war #Poplan #Konev #heteronormativity #whoops

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amidalogicdive · 7 years

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Incubus - Dream Two

The sixty-seventh time.

Ignis had come to keep note of every instance he’d awoke to find the heir in his bed. At first it was simply to see if there was a pattern to the Prince's behavior, but now he found he couldn’t stop. Scrutinizing every little detail, Ignis had gathered information as if he were simply collecting data for a research paper. The more he looked into it, the more he’d come to find that there was no pattern. The heir was an enigma. That said, he’d never come without reason. He’d long learned that there always a motive behind Noctis’ night visits, not that the younger man had needed one. But still, he came into the future advisor’s room prepared with some explanation: he’d had a nightmare, he was restless, had eaten too much or too little, the royal quarters were too cold or too warm; he was lonely.

Loneliness, that was understandable.

When he’d first come to Insomnia Ignis had known the cold comfort of solitude all too well. To lose all that had once been familiar, to find that one could not always be the master of their own fate. At the time it had left a foul taste in his mouth, but he’d been brought to the Kingdom of Lucis for a greater purpose, and that had given him strength. Giving into the young heir’s every whim, well that was something he’d not expected. Ignis had come to find that it was difficult to deny Noctis his desires, especially when the heir laid beside him, cuddling close against him for warmth. One might even call it problematic, for his heart had become so vested in everything the Prince was and would become.

That singular thought kept him going. If Noctis would one day rise to meet the challenges he was born too, then Ignis, in turn, had to become all that his future King needed. That is why he went far beyond what was expected of one so young, to absorb everything that was given to him for the good of the kingdom, for the good of a crown that would one day look to him for advice. So, his days continued on, starting in the early hours and continuing late into the night. Many passed in contemplation as he absorbed all the council meetings, private studying and tutors offered. It had kept the loneliness at bay, it had given him a purpose.

Now, Ignis was tired. It was the end of a very long day, for as he aged the advisor had come to find more responsibility put upon his shoulders. The weight did not bother him, it never had… but this day had found him weary, and only one wish echoed within him, to return to his room and find rest.

Bowing out of respect as one of the Lords passed, he quickly pressed the button to summon an elevator. He wanted to lean against the wall, if only for a moment of support, be he dared not show weakness where one might witness him. If he would advise a Kingdom one day, Ignis had to show the steadfast strength that Noctis would have to show as King. How would anyone take his King seriously if his own counselor could not stand beside him. The light ding was a blessing as the elevator reached him, stepping in, he pressed a button and only then did he find support against one of the dark metal walls.

Finally, he was alone. Ignis found his thoughts wandering back on the last meeting he’d had that day. It hadn’t been planned, but King Regis had asked for his time none the less, and of course he granted it. Ignis had been shocked, and yet not surprised at the information that followed. Noctis had been reprimanded, and was grounded for the foreseeable future. While he had been in council, the young heir had seen fit to leave the safety of the palace walls, with Gladiolus’ sister nonetheless. Thank Etro, both he and Iris had returned uninjured but the disappearance had caused a slight uproar among the servants and had not gone unnoticed. Taking a few deep breaths, he pushed back against the wall to right himself as the elevator reached his floor.

A light dinging echoed within the small area as the door parted, exiting, he made a left and then went down the hallway to his room. His blessed room, where he could finally find some relaxation and alone time. Or so he thought, he hadn’t expected someone else to already be occupying his bed. But, with the news that had been passed to him, Ignis shouldn’t have been surprised. “Sixty-seven.” He whispered, running a hand through his hair as aqua eyes closed for the slightest moment. “Your Highness.”

He would later note today's reason: Sulking.

The heir looks up for a moment, weariness showing in the bright electric blue orbs, before glancing back down. Noctis had already made himself at home in Ingis’ bed, the thick blankets curled around him and a book laying in his lap. For some reason, he couldn’t help but note that the heir was in need of a haircut, mentally reminding himself to pass on such information to the King tomorrow. “Iggy, you’re late.” However, the words held no surprise for the older man’s tardiness. “Read this to me.”

Closing the door, Ignis set down the documents that had been tucked under one arm on a nearby table, before making his way toward the bed, pulling at his tie. “Noct, I was advised by your father that you have been grounded for the foreseeable future. Seeing that such a conversation did take place, one would think to find you occupying your own bed.” As expected, the heir simply looked away, slight annoyance coloring his features. He knew that the boy didn’t need another lecture, yet couldn’t help himself. “You disobeyed an established rule, and this is not the first time. You know you are not to leave the palace proper, and to put another in danger as well? Such actions are not befitting an heir.” Why did Noctis always have to push the boundaries?

“I didn’t.”

It was almost a whisper but he’d heard the words, and hadn’t expected them. Taking a seat across from him, Ignis leaned on one hand as he watched the boy for a moment. “Noct, your father has already informed me of these matters. Are you saying he was misinformed, I cannot see such information-”

He paused, watching as the Prince shook his head. Noctis didn’t look upset, simply bored that they were continuing to speak on this matter. “I’m not denying that I did it, just didn’t do it for the reason you think. I was following her.” There was a brief moment of silence as the words sank in, but before Ignis could ask, he found the heir speaking once again. “She was lost, so I helped her back. When we got back others has already noticed, and Gladiolus was angry with her.” Looking at his advisor, the Prince simply shrugged. “I didn’t like seeing her cry, so I lied.”

“So, I am to believe that you lied and accepted punishment so she would be spared such?” Nodding, he let out a slight yawn, giving Ignis a look that told him he was done speaking on the subject and honesty the advisor didn’t find it that hard to believe.

He rose without further comment and made his way into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Somehow Noctis never ceased to amaze him, he knew some found the young royal stubborn and picky, but he had a good heart. Seeing he’d never fibbed to him before, it wasn’t hard for Ignis to believe the story that he’d presented and found no reason to disbelieve his words. Once changed, he made his way back into the bedroom and was not surprised to see that the prince still occupied the far side of his bed. Shaking his head slightly, he turned off the overhead light, only leaving the two bedside lamps on and climbed under the covers. Instantly, Noctis was at his side, warming him, his head resting against the older shoulder. The book had yet to be abandoned, lying close beside the prince.

“Don’t you think that you’re a bit too old to be read too?” While the words were spoken, Ignis found himself enjoying these moments. One day the heir would honestly be too old to find comfort at his side, and the advisor knew that he would miss these moments. As for the prince, he simply refused to reply, pulling the book into his lap as he looked up at him. “Very well, perhaps I should blame myself for allowing such arrangements to continue.”

Reaching for the book, it was suddenly moved out of his grasp, the comfortable warmth leaving his side as Noctis made his way to the edge of the bed and onto the floor. “I’ll go.” The words were soft, and Ignis noted that he refused to make eye contact with him.

“Noct,” He hadn't meant for his words to come out in a way that would aim to hurt the Prince. Ignis had simply stated what he had been thinking at the moment, but even he forgot that the boy before him; who had so many expectations upon his small shoulders, was just a child. A child who had always been honest with him, who had always come to him in times of need… and Ignis knew. “Am I the only person you feel you can be honest with?” There was a light nod, and Ignis understood everything. “Come,” He patted the bed lightly. “What book have you brought?”

Though said, the prince stood there with his back to him, as if he were considering the situation. A moment later Noctis turned, crawling back upon the bed and settled himself in his abandoned spot. The book found its way into his hand once again, holding it towards his advisor. “Read this.”

Adjusting his glasses, he felt the smaller male cuddle in closer, his head resting upon his shoulder as Ignis smiled down at him. Taking the book, he set it in his lap and glanced over the cover. “Shiva, The Glacian Goddess: History and Lore.” He paused, glancing down at the prince. “Isn’t this a bit dull for your liking, Noct?”

Shrugging lightly, a fleeting smile crossed his features. “I don’t mind, I picked something you would like.” There was a moment of silence as Noctis closing his eyes, before speaking again. “Anyway, I just like hearing your voice.”

Ignis couldn't help himself, leaning down to kiss the prince lightly, once again seeing that rare smile. There were so many words he could have said at that moment, so much he wished to express. How these nights shared within the Prince's company had been what eased his own loneliness, had given him something to look forward to, had made him feel that he did belong. He wanted Noctis to know that he was the reason Ignis wished to become strong so he could… no, so he would remain beside him forever.

But words were fleeting things, and actions suited him better. Anyway, none were thoughts that would come off as acceptable, but he felt them all the same. To stay by his Princes side, guide him and care for him – all would be shown to him though Ignis’ undying dedication.

Stroking the younger man’s hair, he laid a cheek upon his head and nodded. “As you wish.”

None were thoughts that would come off as acceptable, but the advisor felt them all the same. He felt himself stroking the younger’s hair as he laid a cheek upon his head. “As you wish.” His voice filled the room, a warm gentle echoing as he spoke. Though his prince fell asleep soon after, Ignis found himself reading the book into the night. If only to drive away the nightmares and bring a peaceful rest to the heir.

Once again the warmth within him flared, a warmth that had and would only continue to grow steadily with the passing years.

#ffxv #ffxvfic #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv incubus

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