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braxiatel · 2 years

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“We Double as a Drama Troupe”

(Link to read on AO3)

“To be, or not to be, that is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them,” Ren spoke, his voice bouncing off the crastle walls.

“To die - to sleep, no more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub: for in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause… Yes, Scar?”

“Question,” Scar began, leaning against the armrest of the netherite throne. “Wouldn’t it be more fitting if you were the evil king?”

Cleo and Cub groaned in unison, something they had had abundant opportunity to rehearse over the past week.

“I’m just saying,” Scar defended.

“And what exactly is it you’re saying, Sir Scar?” Ren asked testily.

“Why, that you are our most luscious of rulers, of course. Why should you have to settle for being a mere prince, when you could be a king?”

With a click and a whirring sound, the blinding stage lights went out.

“What’s happening down there?” Cub called from the balcony.

“Just another Scar-break,” Iskall yelled back.

“Did you miss the part where he is the antagonist of the story, Scar?” Ren interrupted, ignoring the squabbling squabs. “A king as beloved as I could never pass as such a vile snake. None of my subjects would find it believable.”

“That’s a bit offensive,” Cleo pointed out, flicking her hair.

“Really? I thought it was rather apt,” Ren admitted, ceasing to project his voice throughout the throne room.

“I laughed!” Bdubs said from where he was juggling at least a dozen different hats, trying to recall which he was to wear in the next scene.

“You didn’t!” Iskall accused. “He’s standing right there, he heard that you didn’t.”

“Shut up!” Bdubs hissed.

Scar giggled.

“He said the thing!”

Cub, who had somehow appeared at the throne, glanced at his bare wrist.

“Perhaps now would be a good time for our lunch break, your majesty? Union rules, and all that. ”

Joe perked up.

“There’s a union?”

“No and no,” Ren sighed. “Come on, people. The premiere is tomorrow, and this whole thing is still a mess. Scar, you keep complaining about getting one of the biggest parts in the play. Cleo and Joe, you spend more time gossiping than you do acting.”

“Was it not the great playwright himself who said that all the world’s a stage? So technically, by that logic, are we not all of us acting at all times? Even at this very moment?” Joe posited.

His comment went completely ignored by the rest of the company, as they so often did.

“— Iskall, you forget to show up half the time, and you are still doing that voice—”

“The queen is a dignified matriarch, this is how one of those speaks,” Iskall protested.

“I think he was referring to you doing it even when you’re out of character,” Cub speculated.

“It’s called method acting!”

“Stanislavski would be rolling in his grave,” Joe sighed to an audience of no one.

“—Bdubs doesn’t know half of his lines—”

“Would be a little easier if I didn’t have to play more than half of the characters,” Bdubs grumbled, something that either went completely ignored by the king, or more likely he would hear about it later, in private.

“— and Cub, you have apparently joined a union?”

“Started it, in fact,” he grinned.

“Man, he’s really laying it on thick with this corruption arc,” Scar commented, to a collective hum of approval.

“Guys, can we please just take this seriously for one day? It would really mean a lot to me,” Ren pleaded.

The rest of the troupe shared a look, coming to an unspoken agreement that ultimately going along with Ren’s latest terrible idea was worth it to make their friend happy.

“Sure,” Iskall agreed on behalf of everyone.

“Thank you. Now, shall we get back to the scene?”

“Before we do, to get us back into the flow of things, I just thought I’d share an interesting fact about Hamlet—” Joe began, meeting a resounding groan from the rest of the company.

The bickering resumed, even Ren joining in at this point.

Cub, who had taken a seat back and was simply watching the chaos unfold, glanced at the skull sitting abandoned on the floor at downstage left.

“Alas, poor Impulse,” he murmured.

For the seventh time that day he wondered if he should actually defect to the soup group, or if selling tickets to this shitshow would ultimately price a more profitable business venture.

#Hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft fanfic #renthedog #rentheking #bdoubleo100 #goodtimeswithscar #zombiecleo #cubfan #cubfan135 #joe hills #joehillssays #iskall #iskall85

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diademreigned · 10 months

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[ TAKE ] for the taller muse to find the shorter one has ‘borrowed’ a shirt/sweater/jacket etc. which is oversized on them. -Tall and SMOL prompts Stella to G’raha

The halls had been quiet, save for the crackle of the fireplace passed the stairway that rounded up toward where the bedrooms of the Inn had been scattered. The burning of the lanterns mounted on the walls. The bellowing of the rainfall through the windows, but all that could be seen was the smacking of droplets about the glass.

It didn't disturb the scholar one bit, leaning over the table as he flipped through the centuries old tomes that had since collected dust on old shelves, now seeing the light of day; clean and loved. Red eyes flicking through line after line after line, focused and attentive.

She should be down pretty soon, he had to remind himself, reaching forward to tear the tome from the furniture and into his hands, caressing it with care and delicacy.

"Interesting. . ." G'raha whispered, holding one of the pages to finish reading and then turning it. "Seemed unlikely and yet. . ."

Something caught his attention and his ears pricked, turning his head up toward the stairs that rotated higher and higher. Ears lifted in the air found itself forcing a large smile to press up through the cheeks when he noticed who was coming downstairs. Blessed with the warmth of a robe around her person, the scholar took note that his precious Au Ra had finally finished whatever she had been doing. Not to say it took a bit, his patience had never once worn thin for her.

"Aaah, my lady," he beamed, shutting the book and setting it upon the table once more. "I've been awaiting you." G'raha pushed himself off the table and moved toward her. "Seems we must always occupy each other in the later hours, no? I am most honored."

Reaching forward, when she lifted it, G'raha pressed a kiss to the fingers he held like they'd been shaped in porcelain. He could hear her chuckle softly as a reaction, ears flicking to catch the sound, fearful he'd forget it.

"Is it not too humid? Surely you've not caught sick from your mission earlier," his expression turned to worried and concerned, until he watched her hands move elsewhere. Curiosity burned in his pupils, trying to remain gazing at her face as her fingers moved to discard the robe.

Something about what she'd chosen for the remainder of the night drew some familiarity to the Miqo'te. It wasn't at the right away, but with a head tilt . . . he began to support his internal theory.

"Is that - are . . . By the gods, you're wearing my shirt!" His ears shot up like rockets, twitching with excitement and jubilee when she practically wore it like a pajama shirt. She displayed herself as a goddess amongst the Twelve and here she was wearing his shirt of all things!

G'raha was not complaining of course, it was the initial realization that ultimately had stunned him, before his own rubies collected a dash of sunlight to brighten his expression.

"I confess I had no idea you would - that is . . . How did you come to acquire - That is a rather ignorant question, is it not?" He pushed a fist to his chin in contemplation before he couldn't help but find himself grinning from ear to ear and becoming giddy.

She looked rather dashing in it didn't she? Even if it were just a shirt. Reaching forward, G'raha cupped Stella's face between his hands, bringing her toward his own.

"You are brimming with a beauty none shall surpass. 'Tis rather foolish of me to say such when you're wearing something as simple as my own garments. I daresay you - . . . You truly - My inspiration!" He pulled away, feeling his cheeks starting to burn when Stella had sooner rather than later pushed out a laugh. "I hadn't an inkling of the differences between our heights. It fits you so horridly but only in size alone. I cannot fathom - !"

G'raha held the Au Ra's hands in his own, pulling her across the lit candles around the room until he got to the table. "I would say that tomes can wait and yet - I cannot in good faith seek out another for company that has much been too fine." Their foreheads touched, candle lights waved in the wind, and his heart had accelerated.

Be still . . . you are quite obvious.

#G’RAHA TIA // ♦︎ — › asks.#:: oathofpromises ::#STELLA CAELUM * relations // ♦︎ ꜱᴏɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴅ — › oathofpromises.#:: queue ::#the way he's just fan girling because he caught her wearing his shirt #HE'S SUCH A DORK I LOVE HIM

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warriorofteaching · 6 months

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Passing the Torch

I follow a few teacher reddits and it truly astonishes me the types of things people post. As a long time redditor and part of a few useful reddits, the idea was now that I’m teaching full-time, it would be good to be a part of a community of other teachers so that I can “eavesdrop” on conversations and keep an ear to the ground of what other professionals are thinking. To be fair, I certainly have an idea of what other professionals are thinking and like any part of the internet, it is the loudest people who are heard the clearest. Or perhaps, it’s better to say, it’s the echo chamber I hear the clearest. But that too has its value. There are two types of posts I want to address today: the posts about retiring and the posts about only doing what you have to.

The posts about retiring I found so interesting the first few times. The education system is broken. There is nothing you can say that will change my mind. Despite it being my first official year full time teaching, I’ve danced around the education industry for long enough and during COVID enough to know what the system is like and to know what the kids are like these days. Frankly, I agree with many long-time retiring teachers belaboring the labor conditions of education and the ridiculous bureaucracies tied to any governmental agency. My biggest question is this: what is the goal of posting this on an internet forum?

My immediate thought is sympathy. After all the pain and struggles they’ve been through, they want the anonymous collective to say: “yes, you are right fellow teacher. This shit sucks and we don’t blame you for leaving. Go, be free and with our blessings. We would follow you if we could.” And for the most part, that’s what they get. They hear their own pain in their chosen echo chamber. It is echoed and amplified for them to feel the catharsis of letting go of a career which rarely loves anyone back. Being the new, innocent teacher that I am, I can’t help but wonder: what about other new, innocent teachers? When they see these posts, how must they feel about their chosen profession and the next few years of their lives?

I find myself wishing these old, bitter teachers who have been broken and shattered by the system would simply shut up and gtfo. I understand the idea of warning other newbies about the pain and the struggles you went through as a veteran but these don’t have to be the pain and the struggles the newbies go through. They don’t have to experience the same trauma you did and just as no one can invalidate your experience of being a teacher, you don’t have the right to poison other people’s future experiences of teaching. Before they’ve even had the chance to experience it for themselves. Everyone has a right to their trauma but that doesn’t give you the right to traumatize others with yours.

There’s a bit of a crossover here with the other kind of posts: telling young teachers what they should or shouldn’t do. In particular, veteran teachers telling newbie teachers to only do what is asked of them and/or in their contract. I get it. When teachers go above and beyond the terms of their contract, it makes it worse for everyone. If administration, the government, or society at large, can expect one teacher to go above and beyond for nothing, they can expect all teachers to go above and beyond for nothing…Right?

If I have an awesome chef at a restaurant who goes out of the way to remember my order every day and know exactly how much spice I liked in my soup, I can expect that of every chef and every restaurant right? (For the record, this is an actual restaurant I went to.) Do you see how ludicrous this sounds? Of course not! I appreciate that chef for going the extra mile but I don’t expect everyone else to do the same. Yes, there is an absolutely a problem with the way society at large perceives teachers and the sacrifices they are “supposed” to take but that does not give you the right to take away the choice for new teachers to go above and beyond what is asked. If they want to, that’s okay. And if they don’t want to, that’s okay too. But it is their choice. Not yours, as the veteran teacher and their mentor, and not societies at large.

It’s like we teach our students. They have to be the ones to make the choice about whether they want to put the effort in and how much effort they want to put in. They get what they put in and despite what bitter, jaded teachers will tell you, it’s the same for teachers. It’s true, you likely won’t get the appreciation, thanks, and respect that another profession might get and you are going to get a lot of hate from students, parents, administration, and heck, probably other teachers too. Somewhere along the way, we lost, as a profession, the most important thing. You don’t do it for the appreciation, thanks, or respect. Hell, sometimes, you don’t even do it because you care because, let’s face it, sometimes, everyone around us is a little shit and we just don’t give a shit anymore.

You should be doing it because you like it.

And you know what? Sometimes, it sucks doing the things you like. Yet another lesson we teach our kids.

It’s always so clear when people are leaving the profession for greener pastures. It’s also always so clear who has had another profession, another career, another “real job” before they became a teacher. And before any of you bitch at me, it’s not about how easy or how hard one job is compared to another. It’s just about the realities of having a career and working. The education system is broken. No doubt. No question about it. But let’s face it, so is virtually every other system in our society right now. Sure, we haven’t collapsed into anarchy yet but the cracks are starting to show everywhere around us.

Education was once hailed as the golden equalizer that gives everyone the same opportunities. The ability to make every young child excel. We all know that’s a load of shit. Fine, then education is training for the workforce. We teach kids the skills they need to function in a workplace right? Maybe. Sort of. Eh. I’d say we’re 50/50 on that. But at least, at the very least, we teach them how to be good, engaged members of society! Some of you are surely rolling your eyes at that kid in class won’t drop their TikTok addled phone full of conspiracy theories and bad science.

But why do you think society at large, that a job outside of education, will be any better? Do you think kids are the only ones with brains broken and addled by social media? Do you truly think every adult knows how to function in a workplace? Just ask any employee of any large company about “their awful boss” and they will surely have stories to tell you of the emotionally stunted manager who got promoted by nepotism. Do the research into how any billionaire made their money and the unequal opportunities they had.

Our education system and our schools reflect our society. They take what we see in society at large and magnify it tenfold because, this may shock you, kids are tiny adults. They are tiny adults growing up with more powerful technology than the previous generation. They are also tiny adults growing up and learning from the big adults and amplifying all their bad habits tenfold because they are children who don’t know any better and, le gasp, aren’t learning any better from the big adults who also have bad habits. Are you seeing the positive feedback loop we’re getting stuck in?

If only there were some third-party adult who knew better, who had the emotional and critical capacity to decide which hills were worth dying on and which ones to forfeit. Who knew which battles were too much for them to handle and which ones to let go of. If only there were experienced veterans who could train those third-party adults on all the on-the-job type realities like every job should have (but not all do). If only there was someone who could break this positive feedback loop! Are you picking up what I’m throwing down? Do I have to spell it out for you like I do for my kids who won’t say a thing when I ask them a meaningful question but won’t stfu when I’m trying to tell them something important? See? I get it too.

It’s only been three months since I started full time teaching but I’ve already told my students a few times why I became a teacher. My goals were quite lofty and my kids had a good laugh about it. I told them I became a teacher so I could teach them not to be little shits. I teach them in hopes that when I get older and have to retire, I have good reason to believe the world won’t get even shittier. Maybe it’ll even keep getting better. Because despite what the media wants you to believe and despite all the truly awful and shitty things happening in the world, despite how clearly the cracks are showing in our society, there is good reason to hope. Just like we tell our students, sometimes, you just have to change your perspective. You just have to change what you’re looking at.

And when I retire, I won’t write a post about how awful my experience was teaching. Even if it was. I’ll write a post that tells every teacher you want resources? Here’s resources from a lifelong career of teaching for you to use neatly organized (maybe after retirement cause let’s be real, who has the time). Because what a new teacher needs is not the crushing weight of your very legitimate PTSD, it’s the resources to do the job you very understandably and very reasonably no longer can. I truly do not blame anyone for leaving a broken profession. I criticize you for demoralizing teachers who have yet to step foot in the classroom and make the change you did for as long as you could.

Stop burning new teachers with the torch you’re passing to them and start handing it to them.

Sincerely, A New Teacher who could use some resources

#reddit #reflection #teaching #education

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wroetospotterwp · 3 years

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death eater x harry???? oR SOMEONE ELSE IDK AH

Dark Red

Pairing ✨: Harry Potter x Death Eater!Reader (Fem!) (also implies that reader isn’t in gryffindor n also set during OOTP)

Summary 💓: Y/N has been forced by her parents to follow in their footsteps and join the death eaters, it doesn’t help that her boyfriend is Harry Potter.

Word Count 🖊: 2,613

A/N 🗣: FIRST REQUEST FROM THE LEGEND HERSELF 🤌🤌 she first sent me an edit on tiktok and she was like idea, so we’ve went for it, also first song imagine! all the lyrics i’ll be using will be in italics but i’ve had to change pronouns to fit harry :)

Warnings ⚠️: swearing and made my heart ache a little, manipulation

Requested? 📮: yes! :)

Masterlist

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The rain was pelting hard against the window in Y/N’s dorm, the loudness of the rain drops smashing against the glass had awoken the girl from her slumber. She sat up from bed and leaned against her headboard.

Rubbing her eyes, Y/N adjusted to the dim lighting in the room. Everything in her life was just perfect, her grades were good, she had lots of friends, and last but most definitely not least there was Harry.

They had been dating for over a year now and Y/N could see it lasting, what she felt with Harry was something so indescribable, but it made her so happy. The two of them distracted each other from their lives. Y/N helped him take his mind off He Who Must Not Be Named, and he distracted her from her parents.

Her parents did not approve of their relationship, and Y/N knew it probably had something to do with the fact they secretly supported Voldemort. But she hadn’t ever told him that, for the matter she hadn’t told many peoples.

Y/N was staring at the top of her bed, her stomach beginning to turn. This usually happened when she got a bad feeling. Y/N focused on trying to figure out what might happen, fail a test? Have an argument with someone?

Y/N thoughts were going fifty miles an hour that she didn’t hear her friend wake up next to her. “You look deep in thought.” She joked, Y/N turning to face her. “What’s the matter?” Her friend questioned.

Y/N let out a sigh. “Something bad is about to happen to me.” She mumbled, knowing how ridiculous it might have sounded.

“You’ve been listening to Trelawney too much.” Her friend brushed off with a smile, but it slowly dropped when she saw Y/N’s expression. “Come on Y/N, what could possible happen?”

“I don’t know what, but I feel it coming.” Y/N voiced her thoughts to her friend.

“Let’s do something to take your mind off this.” Her friend suggested. Y/N thought that be the best. Normally when she didn’t feel great, if she did something else to busy herself, the thought usually disappeared.

“Where are you planning to take me?” Y/N questioned, she got out of bed and collected her clothes that she would put on.

“I need to go down to Owlery, I promised to send my sister something from Zonko’s.” Her friend informed her, going into the toilet to get dressed.

Y/N decided to just get dressed in the dorm, the other three girls were fast asleep so she felt comfortable changing. The two girls them left the dormitory once they were ready and headed out their common room.

There wasn’t many students around the castle yet, but this was around the time many of them would be waking up. Many would wake up so thankful it was finally the weekend and they could have some sort of freedom.

Umbridge’s rule over the school was making many reach breaking point, there were new rules almost every day and it was completely turning Hogwarts into a prison. They weren’t allowed to do anything, couldn’t act like normal teenagers, she was determined to make everyone prim, proper and to not challenge the Ministry.

There only hope was Dumbledore’s Army, the only freedom they had. But Marietta Edgecombe had ratted them out, and they were all severely punished. Y/N felt sorry for Harry, it was all going so well and once they were caught, he blamed himself. Y/N tried to reassure her boyfriend that it wasn’t his fault, but she couldn’t get through to him.

In fact, the two of them hadn’t really spoken since Umbridge began giving them punishments, Harry was isolating himself and kept his distance. Y/N was missing him but sometimes he did this, so she decided to let him have a moment to himself and then he would be back to normal.

The girls eventually reached the Owlery, Y/N’s friend immediately heading to find her owl so she could send the products from Zonko to her sister. Y/N looked around at the different owls, but one caught her eye.

It was her parent’s owl. And it had a letter tied around their talon. Y/N untied the letter, about to read it until her friend appeared behind her.

“Has Y/N got a love note from Potter?” Her friend teased her.

“Parents owl.” Y/N informed her friend, who raised both brows. Y/N’s parents hadn’t really kept in contact with her much when she was at Hogwarts, so receiving a letter was unusual.

“What did they say?” Her friend questioned.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t read it yet.” Y/N replied, laughing slightly as she thought of something. “Might be so sad, might leave my nose running.”

“If it’s just to bring you down, ignore them.” Her friend reminded her, her arm wrapping around Y/N’s shoulder. “Let’s head back up, I’m starving.”

Y/N agreed, the two girls heading up the castle for breakfast. They entered the Great Hall and were about to sit at their own house table before Hermione waved them over.

“What’s that?” Hermione questioned immediately as they sat down in front of her, the girl’s two best friends were nowhere to be seen, but not unusual for them to be late for breakfast.

“Nosy are we, Hermione?” Y/N’s friend joked, Hermione playfully shrugged it off.

“It’s a letter from my parents.” Y/N told her, placing the unread letter onto the table.

“Oh.” Hermione mumbled, most people knew what Y/N’s parents were like, she had either told them or heard Harry’s complaints about they didn’t approve of him and the relationship. “Is everything alright?”

“I haven’t read it yet. I will after I have something to eat.” Y/N replied, scanning the table to try and find something to eat. “Where’s the toast?” Her friend reaching and grabbing a piece of toast for Y/N.

The three girls just quietly ate breakfast for a while and enjoyed each other’s company, Ron tiredly stumbled towards them. “Nice of you to finally join us Ronald.” Hermione greeted as he sat down beside her.

“Hermione, I was exhausted.” Ron huffed, grabbing as much food as he could onto his plate, he always acted like he barely eats.

“You always are.” Hermione mumbled under her breath, going back to eating some porridge.

“Where’s Harry?” Y/N blurted out, poor Ron had been harassed by her since Harry started to isolate himself. Ron most definitely knew more than she did.

“Still getting ready, mate.” Ron spoke with his mouth full, Hermione pulling a face and scoffing. “I think he’s alright today, you know, I’d have a chat with him today.” He suggested.

“Thanks Ron.” Y/N smiled, finishing what she was having. Her eyes caught the letter again, she really didn’t want to open it but she was also desperate to find out what they want. With a quiet sigh, she picked up the letter and began to read it.

Dear Y/N,

We hope you are well at Hogwarts, Umbridge seems to finally be turning that school around for the better, I’m sure you’d agree.

Well you would have when you were younger.

We miss our old Y/N, always following the rules and in our footsteps. But every since you started to attend Hogwarts with that daft old man as your head teacher, you changed.

And of course that boyfriend of yours didn’t help either, just like his father, always in trouble. Poor Lily should’ve saved herself.

As you know, the Dark Lord is back. You know how we always felt towards him, but we fear he will target us because of your choices. Many have heard he won’t accept us, because of your closeness to Potter.

He may come after us Y/N, we need you back on our side. Otherwise we’re all dead, you don’t want Potter finding out you’ve been killed by him? He can’t lose another loved one to the Dark Lord.

Write back to us as soon as you can, we can guide you along the way.

All the best,

Mum and Dad.

Y/N eyes began to well up, she knew that feeling from this morning meant something, but for it to be this bad? How on earth she was meant to tell Harry this? “Everything alright?” Her friend put a hand Y/N’s shoulder, the latter had completely forgot where she was at the moment.

“I need to go.” Y/N informed them, quickly jumping up from the bench.

“What did they say to you?” Hermione questioned, but Y/N didn’t answer her. The girl made her way from the hall, eyes trained on the floor to avoid any eye contact from her friends. But that made it difficult to watch where she was going.

Y/N crashed right into someone. “I’m sorry.” She quickly apologised as she refused to look up, she just wanted to go back into her dorm room.

“Y/N?” A voice she could instantly recognise.

“I can’t talk right now, Harry.” Y/N rushed past him, she needed to think what she was going to tell him, if she was going to tell him.

“I just hope he don’t want to leave me.” She mumbled to herself.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It had been a few weeks and Y/N hadn’t said a word to anybody, her and Harry had completely switched places. She was the one isolating herself, trying to decide what to do. Ignore what her parents said, stay with her boyfriend and friends and hope to God nothing happens to them. Or risk listening to her parents, and possibly lose her relationships at Hogwarts?

She had been exchanging letters between her parents in the meantime to see what she needed to do, and it seemed to be to just join them at the Ministry, which didn’t seem so bad. Her parents worked high up for the Ministry anyway, so as long as they gave her permission to leave, Umbridge would let her.

Y/N had pretended to stay asleep until the rest of her dorm mates left, including her friend, before eventually getting up. The feeling in her chest was back from before, the one she got before her parents letter. “Something bad is about to happen to me.” She sadly mumbled, even the weather had mirrored her emotions, it was a dreary day, grey skies and gloom surrounded the castle.

Y/N fidgeted with her hands as she thought what would happen, anxiety fuelling her veins. “Why I feel this way? I don’t know…” She took a deep breath. “Maybe-“

The dorm door opened and revealed Y/N’s friend. “What the fuck is going with you?” She demanded. “What did they say to you to make you like this?”

“It’s complicated.” Y/N brushed off, should she tell her? She did tell her friend everything and maybe it would be good to have some advice.

After some deep breaths and forcing tears to stop falling, Y/N confessed to her friend everything. By the end of it, her friend was in complete shock, face contorting from confusing, to anger, to annoyance.

“And I just don’t know what to do about Harry.” Y/N sadly mumbled. “I think of him so much it drives me crazy.”

“Y/N, this is bad.” Her friend managed to stammer out.

“I just don’t want him to leave me.” Y/N cried, finally allowing the tears to fall.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.” Her friend snapped. “Of course he will. Joining the people who support the being who killed his parents?” She raised a brow. “I’d definitely forgive you.” Sarcastically she finished.

“But he knows what my parents are like.” Y/N countered.

“I don’t think he’ll care.” Her friend pointed out, deep down Y/N knew the same, Harry would be extremely hurt by this. “How the fuck are you gonna get out this?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugged. “You Know Who will kill them if I don’t help them.”

“Are you forgetting who your boyfriend is?” Her friend raised a brow.

Oh yeah, it would be completely fair on Harry to force him to protect her family. “Like he’s gonna show mercy.” Y/N huffed. “Harry was with Cedric and look what happened, he wants Harry and to just kill who gets in his way.”

It was silent for a moment, neither of them knew what to say. “What are you gonna tell him?” Her friend quietly spoke up, Y/N didn’t say anything. Her friend’s mouth fell open and eyes widened at Y/N’s lack of an answer. “You need to tell him.”

“And say what?! Sorry, I need to go help my Death Eater parents and probably do something for You Know Who.” Y/N snapped.

“I don’t know how to help you.” Her friend awkwardly mumbled.

Y/N knew she couldn’t. She was now trapped with no escape.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Y/N was at the Ministry with her parents, she still had no idea what they were doing or why they needed her, but it wasn’t as bad as she thought. The family got into an elevator and started to head down a few floors.

“Now, whatever you do, don’t talk.” Her mum warned her before the elevator stopped, the girl nodded and they walked out as the doors opened. Y/N could see Draco Malfoy’s father and another woman with curly black hair.

“Did it work?” Y/N’s father asked Lucius.

“I believe so.” Lucius replied, nobody really taking notice to Y/N.

“I can’t wait to meet him.” The black haired woman cackled.

“Now, now, Bellatrix. We have to leave him for the Dark Lord.” Lucius reminded her, the woman huffing dramatically. Y/N’s eyes widened, oh how she was praying they weren’t taking about Harry.

Please don’t be talking about Harry.

“What if he’s fine?” Y/N thought to herself. “It’s my mind that’s wrong. And I just let bad thoughts linger for far too long.”

“We’re going in. Have your wand ready.” Her dad whispered to her. They walked through a door with a handle in the middle into a huge room filled with crystal balls. She couldn’t study them for long before being dragged into the darkness.

The door had opened again a few minutes later, but Y/N couldn’t see who had walked in, only dragged by her parents deeper into the room.

“They should be here!” Harry’s voice was heard, Y/N’s heart dropping to her stomach. Why did he have to come here?

“Harry? It’s got your name on it.” Neville informed him.

“Follow Lucius.” Her mum whispered in her ear, Y/N reluctantly following him, who was now wearing a Death Eater mask.

“Harry!” Here it goes, Y/N kept back from Lucius as the group’s wands lit up the path, she desperately wanted to stay hidden and they would never know she was here.

“Where’s Sirius and Y/N?” Harry demanded as Lucius approached him.

“How fortunate we are to have Y/N right with us.” You could hear the smirk in Lucius’ voice, Y/N wanted to run and escape, but how could one girl manage to escape four Death Eaters?

“What are you talking about?” Harry angrily asked.

“Come on Y/N, don’t be shy.” Lucius gestures for her to come forward. Slowly and painfully, the girl got closer to Harry and the words kept repeating in her head.

“Don’t you give me up. Please don’t give up.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

thank you so much to @drearyxo for being my first request!! i hope this was class enough for you, no hate comments from you 🙄🙄

I HAVE TO SAY I LOVED WRITING THIS SO MUCHHHHH DEFO A FAVE i think you all know by now i’m definitely better at the dialogue part then anything else, but i’m quite proud of it all today :)

there could be a part two to this??? maybe, depends if people want it

hope you enjoyed!!

Taglist: @malfoysstilinski @drearyxo @just-a-bittersweet-tragedy @fizzleberries

#wroetospotterwp #harry potter #harry potter fic #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #harry potter fanfiction #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter imagine #harry james potter

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husbandohunter · 3 years

Text

Windblume Memories [Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: “The annual Windblume festival held in the name of romance and freedom! Why not celebrate it with your lover?”

Characters: Kaeya, Diluc

(A/N): A self-indulgent headcanon because Mihoyo has yet to give us more moments with our husbandos. Just imagining them having fun and enjoying, mah heart~~ And no Mihoyo, if you bother giving us their quotes why can’t you just give us a hangout already (cri cri)

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{Diluc}

“I do know how to play music. Is it so strange?"

• As the most eligible (former)bachelor of Mondstadt, it wouldn't be a surprise if he actually knew the ways of an instrument. But here you were, comepletely awestruck while looking expectantly at your fiance.

• "Diluc you're so perfect I love you!" -you probably

• Back in the days when he took his etiquette lessons, Diluc also learned how to play the violin as well as the piano but the lyre was a traditional instrument of Mondstadt so he focused on that the most.

• His repitoire would lean more to the soft and solemn pieces. (Like his soundtracks HA)

• Diluc is quite shy when you ask him to give you a performance but the way you just plead, he can't say no

• If you don't know how to play an instrument, he'll be more than glad to help you. He's an excellent teacher due to the vast amount of patience he has (thought can't really say the same for other people) and could spend hours elaborating on the same place you've been stuck at.

"Why is this song so slooooow?"

"You're being too hasty, love."

• You're worried if he's bored but Diluc reassures that he isn't. Seldom does he have the opportunity to spend time with you like this so he makes sure to treasure every moment (Even when you're about to break the goddam lyre out of frustration).

• But when you do manage to make it to the end after several attempts, albeit still terrible, there would be the stupidest fat grin on your face while chanting, "I did it! I did it!"

• And he'd praise you as a soft expression graces his features, "You certainly did."

• Soft man I cri

"It takes a long period of training to become a battle-ready archer. These games are only enough to pass the time."

• "No Diluc, I brought you here to have fun not to have this as a training session."

• This man can do pretty much ANYTHING and literally win you any prize. You want that stuffed toy? Consider it taken.

• Perhaps the activities weren't challenging enough. Whether it'd be wind gliding or the peculiar wonderland house, he's got the reflexes for it all.

• Since Diluc is so battle oriented, he treats the games as such. You call him a worry wart after falling into the pit just because you steped on the wrong stone: "Diluc I’m fine. Its just a game." He’ll grab you out of pure instinct and apologize shortly after when you pout at him

• Eventually Diluc learns to loosen up while still keeping an eye at your stance. You figured it would probably be best if you two stuck with something more light and carefree. In a nutshell, anything but the peculiar wonderland house.

• At the end of the day, the two of you are exhausted from all that workout. While closing up Angel's Share after a long night, Diluc catches you falling asleep at the front bar and gently drapes his coat over your shoulders.

• His initial plan was to wake you up since the ideal place to sleep would be the Dawn Winery but Diluc didn't have the heart to wake you up. He simply sits on the stool beside you while leaning down to memorize your serene look, thankful to have been able to experience what it's like to live in a city of freedom again.

{Kaeya}

"Oh dear, is this what they call a height advantage? I suppose I can go a little easy on you all to make things a bit more exciting."

• You gave him that look where you weren't quite sure if he was lying or telling the truth. Could the Cavalry Captain be afraid of heights? You'll never know.

• So regardless, you guys decided to fly together which at first was meant to be a competition of who can collect the most flowers. You managed to land safely with the highest score while your boyfriend was still behind, trying to avoid the dusty balloons.

"Seems like I went a little too easy on you," he jests. You roll your eyes.

"Alright, let's go for another round then."

• This time you had a different idea. Just a few seconds before the game started, you took him by the hand and jumped straight off the platform. The whole time as the two of you were soaring through the air, you held him tight.

• "Now it shouldn't be so scary anymore!"

• The surprised expression he had lasted for a moment before melting into a smile, "How very cunning of you, darling."

• Your security gave him the chance to admire the scenery from the skies, it was a breathtaking view. How your hair whips beautifully against the wind and your pink-tainted cheeks from the cold, breathtaking.

• Though, holding the other meant you had to collect the flowers with one hand and one arm which proved to be very unproductive. Even once the both of you landed within the garland of windwheel asters, Kaeya was still holding your hand.

• Kaeya often treats fearful situations as thrilling experiences but the outcome in the end turned out to be more favourable than he had initially planned it to be. Though if you’re a novice windglider beware, this man will let you go at random times just so he can see your reactions.

"What an interesting diversion. Since everyone's in high spirits, it would truly be a shame if I didn't pitch in a little!"

• You were extremely curious of Kaeya's musical skills since his nature tends to lean towards the frivolous side. Unexpectedly, his tunes and playing style sounded melancholic as well. Most likely due to the fact of growing up in the Ragnvindr household.

• Since he hangs out at the bars during late nights quite often, Kaeya would know how to play a few tunes he picked up along the way. He would love to give you a full on performance! Anything for his sweetheart~ Though keep staring and you might find him teasing you about it after.

• Honestly Kaeya also makes an excellent teacher. His way of wording makes everything so easy to understand which is helpful to avoid silly mistakes. He teaches you very simple lyre pieces, brushing his fingers over yours every once in a while to help you adjust the right position.

• You think he's doing this on purpose to get you bothered but Kaeya simply feigns ignorance.

• But if you do know how to play a lyre, it would be a session where both of you share your songs. Out of all of them, there was one song that stuck out the most:

You felt a sense of longing in the tune Kaeya played. Far too slow to match the upbeat atmosphere of Mondstadt during the day and not as romantic as it would be during the night. Instead, it seemed to reflect the emotion of sadness, like hands reaching to a far away land which turned out to be nothing but a mirage.

"Where did you learn that piece? I never heard it before," you comment shortly after he finished.

Kaeya hums playfully while shooting a grin to match, "I composed it myself."

"Is that so?" You learned to not take everything at face value when talking to your lover, "Then where did you draw your inspiration from. It doesn't seem like you'd create it on a whim when your expertise lies in swordsmanship."

"Aha just when did you become so keen sweetheart?"

"Since I started dating you."

"Touche."

There would be a momentary pause and during times like these, it was easy to tell that the subject was related to his homeland. Kaeya always found it hard to bring up the topic, even before he met Crepus, music was one of the very last traces that tied his life to the scarce warms days of Khaenriah.

"What's the song called?"

Thankful that you changed the subject, Kaeya answers, "Frozen Dreams. At least, that is what I can remember."

"Frozen Dreams?" You pondered quietly, "I wonder what that title means."

"Do you like it that much?"

"Of course, that piece must be very important to you right? I would like to learn it," You pump your fists determinedly, I would like to learn about you as much as I can.

He looks at you, lips slightly parted at your genuine declaration. Although you may be tenacious when it came to his secrets, Kaeya did not doubt that it was also one of the quirks he loved about you most. With a small chuckle, he complies your request, “It would be my pleasure.”

Sometimes its best to leave the words unspoken. Perhaps another day when Kaeya feels ready to tell you everything, for now he will revel in the present where the intagible feelings of music and emotion do the speaking.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #diluc #Kaeya #nya-writes

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gamerwoo · 3 years

Text

[Tales from the Pack] Hansol: Fire and Ice (Part One)

Characters: Hansol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, 150% angst, character death (technically not major character but they’ve been mentioned a lot)

Word count: 3,461

Summary: You’ve always been one to let your emotions get the best of you – your power reflects that – and you’ve never been good at expressing them. That’s why you always thought you’d be awful with a mate, but you never thought things would be this awful.

Next | Fire and Ice Masterlist

a/n: things in bold are in english

You were nervous all night for two reasons.

The first and biggest reason was that your pack was out facing guards, hunters, and townsfolk. The odds that anybody could die were very great, and that shot fear into your very core. Your brother was your blood, and you cherished him with everything. Without your brother, you didn’t know what you would do. He protected you, kept you under control, and always got you out of trouble. Your pack made you feel like you could take care of something, and you would do anything to make them feel safe and cared for. You may not have been good with your emotions, but you always made sure to show the pack you loved them.

The second reason, albeit not a big reason, was that Jiung had teased you about your mate possibly being in Seungcheol’s pack. All he told you was that his name was Hansol, and he was two years younger than you. Of course, him and Rin had a field day with teasing you about it, but you chose to try to ignore it despite your cheeks heating up like they would catch on fire, too. But even so, you were nervous about possibly meeting your mate tonight. But then again, if he was in that pack, he would be in that fight. You might not meet your mate ever.

Death was big probability tonight, and that terrified you. But all you could do was try to focus on the wolves and mates that had shown up at your door, and take care of them to the best of your abilities. Only when Jiung finally came home would you feel calm again.

Eunjin let out a blood curdling scream as soon as the three alphas had arrived from town, the rest of Jiung’s pack plus Minghao behind them. Wolves and humans alike stopped what they were doing, dropping to the ground to cover their ears in an attempt to block out the shriek.

Nobody knew exactly what caused her scream, but they assumed death must be dangerously near. It could be anybody, though, which was scary. Nobody knew who to watch out for or who to save. Nobody knew if they’d have the opportunity to cheat death. They just knew somebody was about to die.

But not unless somebody could help it.

Seungcheol lifted his head, realizing this was their out. If Eunjin’s screams distracted the humans, they could get away safely. He pulled himself off of the ground, trying to endure the screams as he made his way to each member of the pack, tapping them on the shoulder and nodding them in the direction of the clearing. The first few managed to collect the mates before leaving, making sure they were safe first.

Hansol felt the tap on his shoulder blade, lifting his head as he whined loudly. Seungcheol had one hand pressed to his ear while the other ear was laying against his shoulder. The alpha pointed toward the clearing, telling him to go, so he got up and went to run. He was one of the last ones to go, and then they’d be safe. They’d win against death.

Almost there. Just a little more until the treeline, and he was sure he could lose the hunters. But the screaming stopped when he was about 80 yards from the trees, and the humans were starting to come back to their senses.

He suddenly felt a weight on him that not only brought him to the ground, but it started to burn him. He realized it was a net that was beginning to sizzle into his exposed skin, and started to hurt even through his clothes. He whined before letting out a howl, hoping anybody could help him.

But then he realized, he didn’t want anybody in the pack to sacrifice themselves for him. He was just one person, and if somebody came back, they’d both end up being killed. It was better for this to just happen to him rather than to somebody else or multiple people.

He had a feeling when Eunjin screamed directly at him that he was the one who would die. He was the one doomed with the ‘curse of the banshee’. As he heard the cock of a gun, he knew it was it. So, he closed his eyes as he laid on the ground, waiting to be killed.

He heard the gunshot and flinched, but felt nothing new. Not more pain, not numb, and he didn’t even see a bright light like everybody said you’d see when you died. There was nothing new. He even opened his eyes and could still see everything perfectly.

Including Jiung, who was on the ground beside him, coughing up blood.

The alpha was bleeding from his stomach, having been shot in the back with the bullet going right through him, but he used whatever strength he had left to lift the silver net off of the younger wolf to free him. He didn’t even care that the silver burned his hands – he would die anyway, what did it matter?

“Hansol,” Jiung’s voice was strained, and blood spat onto the grass as he spoke. He spoke in English, which Hansol remembered was the alpha’s native tongue, “please take care of _____ for me. Don’t let her do anything stupid. Please love her with everything you have, no matter how much she lashes out. She really is the most caring girl in the world.”

Hansol had no idea what the older boy was talking about, but he refused to let him die here after saving him, “Jiung, I–”

One of Jiung’s pack – Hanbin, the fast one – had sensed his alpha was in danger and was suddenly standing in front of them after speeding back from the forest.

“Jiung–”

“Take Hansol and go,” Jiung stated, weakly shoving Hansol toward the wolf. “That’s an order, Hanbin.”

Hanbin stared down at his alpha, a loud whine emitting from him. Despite how much he wanted to help Jiung, he could only carry one of the wolves, and he couldn’t ignore Jiung’s order. His pack was ordered to protect Seungcheol’s at all costs, anyway.

Before Hansol could say anything else, Hanbin had grabbed him and run off into the woods, leaving Jiung behind.

But Jiung wasn’t sad about his death. Yes, he was upset that he would miss his sister and his pack. His heart ached knowing he’d never see his family – blood or pack – again. But he had helped another pack from feeling the same heartache his had felt when they lost brothers and sisters. He accomplished the mission he set out to achieve, and that made him smile even as tears fell from his eyes and the hunters surrounded him.

His last thought was you. You were always so strong, and he knew you’d find a way to be okay without him. If you had Hansol by your side, he was sure you could be kept under control -- the two of you were made for each other. You always did act before thinking, so he wanted to be sure you would be kept safe. After getting to know Hansol – even if it was only a little – he was positive you’d be taken care of. And that made him laugh weakly from happiness, even as his view of the stars in the sky was clouded by the masked hunters towering over him.

The last thing he heard was another scream in the woods.

You paced by the front door, blocking out whatever small talk was going on in the living room. You didn’t stop pacing until you suddenly felt something wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

You felt it at the same time that you very, very faintly heard a scream way off in the distance that sounded just like the banshee.

You’d never felt this instinct before, but you knew exactly what it was somehow. It was just the connection you had with the alpha. If anything ever happened to the alpha, the entire pack would know, and you knew Rin had the same feeling as soon as she tensed and stared back at you, her eyes wide as tears filled them.

The mates noticed your expressions and how your bodies were visibly shaking. Chanseong stood up, going over to you and putting his hands on your shoulders, “What is it? What happened?”

But you couldn’t even form words. You just stared back at him but not really at him. Your eyes were on him but your brain was somewhere else.

The alpha was dead. You could feel it.

Jiung was killed. Your twin brother. Your blood.

“_____…” Rin whispered, her bottom lip quivering as the other mates looked between you and her for answers.

The mates knew well enough about werewolf instincts. A pack was only tied to their alpha and they could sense when something was wrong with their alpha. They could put two and two together after a little bit of thinking, and Chanseong’s face fell as he realized.

Even the few wolves of Seungcheol’s pack understood. They weren’t sure if you sensed that your alpha was dead or just injured, but they knew there was trouble. But they wouldn’t ask for any clarifications. That would just be insensitive. They’d wait to be told.

“_____…?” Chanseong asked, hoping you could tell him he was wrong.

“No,” you murmured, “no, no, no, no, no…”

You suddenly whipped around and ran for the door, Chanseong’s hands falling from your shoulders. You were going to find the pack and see for yourself. And then you were going to go straight to wherever Jiung was to rip apart every single hunter and guard there limb from limb.

Despite the indescribable emotional pain she felt, Rin knew better than to just let you go off like this. She knew how you could get, and she knew you’d only get yourself into danger.

Using one of the only useful phrases she knew in Korean – thanks to your pack having to say it on many occasions – she pointed at you as you disappeared out the door, “Grab her!”

Chan immediately obliged, knowing you were going to go find the pack. He was much faster than you, and threw his weight on you, sending you both to the ground before rolling a few feet. That bought enough time for Rin to get outside and held hold you back as you tried to shove Chan off of you. You managed to get to your feet, but you now had Chan with his arms around your waist, Rin’s arms under yours and her nails digging into the front of your shoulders, and two of the mates holding onto your hands.

“_____,” Rin’s voice was harsh, and you knew she was trying to mimic the voice your brother used to make you listen, “do not start this.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you shook your head and felt cold streaks on your cheeks, “Fuck you, let me go!”

“_____–”

“Corinne, let me go!” you growled, feeling your emotions bubble up inside you until flames burst from your skin.

You felt all arms and hands suddenly release you to avoid getting burned, and you immediately took off into the woods. You heard the gasps of those who didn’t know how powerful your power was, but you didn’t have the space in your body to feel any sort of pride from their shock. All you felt was a pain in your heart you couldn’t get rid of, and a rage toward whoever let this happen. Even rage toward your brother for being dumb enough to get himself killed.

Chan caught up with you again, throwing himself at you now that the flames were out. You tumbled and rolled through the leaves and twigs of the forest floor before turning to find the pup, your eyes red with every emotion you felt. As you went to run at him, something else threw themselves at you. You felt large paws pinning your shoulders down before you looked up at the silvery wolf form of Rin. She growled at you, but you weren’t going to let her stop you on your mission – though with your mind running at a million miles a second, that mission wasn’t even that clear to you anymore.

You used all your pent-up emotion to shove Rin off of you, throwing her into Chan after he got up. You quickly got to your feet before you started running again, your legs going faster than you’d ever gone as you let your emotions push you to go faster and faster until you finally ran into the pack. But as you got closer, you noticed that there was indeed someone missing.

“_____?” Jaesang asked before you came to a stop, your feet sliding across the forest floor.

You felt Chan’s presence behind you, but you ignored him.

“Where’s Jiung?” you asked Jaesang who was leading the way.

Hanbin pushed his way through to the front. He figured if he was the one to leave your brother behind, he should be the one to tell you. Though, everybody already knew, and you could tell from the way people dropped their heads and averted their eyes that the feeling was correct. But still, you needed to hear it from somebody who was there.

“_____, I…” Hanbin trailed off, not knowing how to tell you this. There were no right words in this situation. “Jiung protected Hansol from getting shot by hunters. He told me to leave him behind, and it was save him or save Hansol. You know I can’t disobey alpha’s orders even though I wanted to…”

Everything stopped. Time, your breathing, your heart – all of it. The world seemed to be spinning, though, like you were falling to the side and tumbling down a hill. Hanbin’s words sunk into your brain, processing even though you couldn’t believe it.

Jiung was dead. He sacrificed himself to save Hansol.

Hansol.

Your supposed mate, Hansol.

You knew it wasn’t Hanbin’s fault. You knew ignoring alpha orders was basically impossible, so you couldn’t blame him for leaving him behind. But if Hansol had been more careful, Jiung wouldn’t have had to save him. You needed someone to blame, and that’s the logic your brain came up with. You needed someone to blame because Jiung wasn’t here for you to blame him. You couldn’t smack him in the back of the head and yell at him for being careless. You couldn’t tell him how fucking stupid he was for letting himself die like that. You couldn’t do anything because he was never coming back.

Your eyes scanned the group of people in front of you before they stopped on a face that was windowed between two men you didn’t recognize. As soon as you saw him, you knew it was him. Your heart fluttered, your gaze zeroed in on only him, and there seemed to be nothing else in the world except for him. Hansol.

But you also felt rage. You felt every emotion building up inside you. You wanted to pounce on him to kiss him, but also to tear him limb from limb. You wanted to hug him, but also punch him in the face. You wanted him to comfort you, but you also wanted to take away something from him like he took away something from you.

You were shaking, and everybody noticed. Your hands balled at your sides as your eyes turned red, only seeing the boy named Hansol. You felt so many things, but the biggest thing was anger. He was the reason Jiung was dead. He was the reason your brother would never come back. He was the reason the only real family you had left was taken from you forever.

Your body burst into flames that shot several feet in the air before dying back down, remaining only around your fists, “I’ll kill you!”

You lunged toward him, watching as his golden eyes went wide, and he took a step back. Hanbin caught you as you tried to toss yourself over his shoulder, an arm holding you at your waist before he set you on your feet. Jaesang rushed over to help, grabbing one arm while Hanbin grabbed the other. The mates around Hansol were moved away from you by other wolves, leaving him exposed.

You needed to get to him. You had to. You had to hurt him in some way because it wasn’t fair that he was perfectly fine, yet your brother was murdered. None of this was fair.

“_____, we are in danger,” Jaesang reminded you. “It’s perfectly fine if you want to strangle your mate, but you can do it when we get home. You’re better than this.”

Flames licked up your arms, burning the hands of your pack mates. They hissed, retracting their hold, and you immediately sprinted toward Hansol as you screamed and cried threats and profanities at him. You pulled one arm back, ready to punch him in the cheek and burn his skin.

Just as you threw your fist forward, Hansol grabbed your fist with his bare hand without even a second thought. But your flame went out with a sizzle instead of blistering his palm and making him cry in pain. You stood still for a moment, staring at your fist connected with his palm as your chest rose and fell with your heavy breathing. You hated how you loved his skin against yours. You hated how you wanted more contact.

But you especially hated how, until now, the only other person able to counter your fire was Jiung.

Hansol’s pack had no idea how he did that. As far as they were concerned, Hansol was just a normal werewolf. He never had any powers, and he never showed any signs like Seokmin had when his power was developing. But if a werewolf was meant to have a power, it would sometimes come to them randomly, or when they needed it most. Wonwoo’s power came to him when his mate and brother were all in danger, so it made sense that Hansol’s power would come to him when he had to take care of his mate.

“_____!” Hanbin barked.

With another yell, you pulled back your other hand and threw a punch. Hansol caught that too, but you could see frost faintly covering his palm before it wrapped around your knuckles and put out your flame.

A growl built up in your chest, your brows pulling down as you pulled your fist away from Hansol and reignited the fire surrounding it. In your white hot rage, you reverted back to your native tongue, but Hansol understood everything, “You killed him!”

You threw a punch. He caught it. It went out.

Your pack mates just let you throw your weak and useless punches, knowing you’d get nowhere with it.

Still, you repeated the process with your other fist, “You’re the reason he’s gone!”

You threw a punch again. He caught it again. It went out again.

Repeat.

“I hate you!”

You threw a punch. He caught it. It went out.

Repeat.

“I hate you!”

It didn’t ignite. Your fist hit his chest with only half your strength.

Repeat.

“I hate you!”

You fell to your knees.

You punched him, your fire gone out, and your strength leaving your body as sadness took over.

“I hate you.”

Hansol fell with you, letting you hit him weakly.

Tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I hate you…”

Your body shook with sobs, and you just stared down at your lap.

The crowd around you watched with saddened eyes. Even if some of them hardly knew you or Jiung, it hurt to see you in so much pain now – pain that some of them could only imagine. You lost the most important person in your life, and they recognized that. Some of them even silently cried for you, including Jaesang and Hanbin.

You recognized Jaesang’s whine, but he wouldn’t howl like wolves usually did to signal the death of a fallen pack mate. You were all still in danger. They couldn’t afford to mourn, but they let you have this moment because Jiung was your twin brother and the only person you felt could really understand you.

You felt warmth as Hansol wrapped his arms around you, and you just sobbed into his shoulder because the pain of losing your brother was too much for you. You hated how his warmth made you feel somewhat comforted.

“I hate you…” you cried.

Finally, he responded to you, “I know. That’s okay.”

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harrypotter-imaginess · 3 years

Text

A/N: I just want to say, for my OG readers that have been reading this since I first posted the headcanon list last year, I love and appreciate y’all so much!! If you want, since this is a long term project, I can add you to the tag list if you like :)

Also Letter commission’s are open until 3/10, so if your interested, price and info are here.

Based on this Headcanon list (x) : Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! <This is Part 4!>

You sigh, eyes glancing back at your watch.

Maybe it’s off?

You wouldn’t put it past Fred to screw up the time on your watch just so you would show up an hour early to your class, wondering if it was always this dark at eight in the morning.

But if Fred did mess with your watch, how does that explain everyone else? You turn to your right and look at a group of third and fourth years scattered around the room. Surely he couldn’t have changed the time in everyone’s watch.

Though at this point you know better than to assume anything is impossible for Fred Weasley, especially if he’s able to get George on board with his pranks.

You sigh, eyes sweeping over the room again. The chatting has long died down, now it looks like all those late nights in the common room playing exploding snap are finally beginning catching up.

Especially when the class was missing the particularly loud and somewhat entertaining antics of the one and only, Gilderoy Lockhart. It wasn’t that it was particularly fun to watch his nonsensical lessons or anything- but at least it was something to watch. And as long as you were barley competent, you could get by just fine on the “pop quizzes” he had. Though they were really more like magazine quizzes about how well you knew him.

Plus he was pretty good looking, though you would rather die than admit that to Fred or George.

Speaking of your favorite pair of doppelgängers-

You turn to look at your side, the two chair next to you on the long bench are vacant. Well, it’s not like it’s totally unusual for them to skip class. You can count on one hand how many times they’ve been excited to come to defense against the dark arts this year. But-

But... they usually invite you when they do decide to play hooky.

Maybe they didn’t invite you because you’re always persuading them to come to class instead. ‘You don’t want a howler from your Mum now do you?’ You would say, pushing them towards the class.

Maybe they just don’t think you’re fun to be around anymore. No, no, they’re your friends- you can’t start thinking like that, there must be a good reason why-

“Hey (Y/N/N)” George squeezes past you, plopping into the chair next to you with a soft rattle.

His hair’s sticking every which way, his robe is crooked, and his tie isn’t even tied, just hanging limply along his neck.

“You don’t even have your bag George” you hiss, did he finally get into a fist fight with Draco Malfoy? You’ve told them both not to think too hard about how he called you-

“Wait where’s Fred?” You look to the door, expecting to see a messy head of fire red hair walk through the door, sporting bruises and maybe a grin like his black eye is a gold medal.

But instead, there’s a familiar head of golden hair standing in the doorway. It’s Gilderoy Lockhart. There’s no doubt about it, the image of him is perfect. Of course it’s your professor.

Of course it is.

But there’s something about the way he carries himself? Like he’s still getting used to having legs so short. The way his smile seems a little more...mischievous than usual, that twinkle of absolute delight in those strangely familiar eyes.

“Oh no” you mumble, but George grins from beside you.

“I’m not going to be needing my bag, and neither are you” George whispers in your ear, and you turn to look at him.

They didn’t.

“Good afternoon class, sorry I’m late! I was admiring myself in one of my thirty mirrors and the time just...got away from me.” ‘Professor Lockhart’ says flashing his class the most condescending smile you have ever seen.

“That’s not a lie you know, we did find him admiring himself in the mirror” George whispers, your face is in your hands but you don’t need to look at him to know he’s got a pleased grin on his face.

“It’s why it was so easy to knock him out and shove him into the teachers lounge- he never even saw it coming”

Well at least they didn’t shove him into a broom closet.

“Now class, I would like you to write a list of things you love about me-“ there’s a collective groan and the rustle of parchment but neither you and George don’t move a muscle.

“Four feet at least!” Fred, in his Lockhart-skin-suit bellows, which earns another collective groan from the rest of the class.

“So what, did you draw the short stick, why aren’t you up there?” You ask jerking your head towards Fred, it looks like the more fun part of the prank honestly. It also seems like the sweetest m form of revenge after old Gildy gave you three detention last week for showing up late to class, but you won’t mention that.

George only shrugs.

Honestly ninety percent of this situation was Fred’s poor impulse control. One second they were running late to class, and George was worrying about getting detention because if he has to scrub all those awards for Filch again he won’t be able to hold a quil - and the next thing he knows he’s carrying Lockhart by his feet into the teachers lounge.

“He’s the showman, I’m just the side kick.” George shrugs, it’s been that way since they were kids. Fred would come up with an idea and George would follow his lead.

Not that he’s upset about it. It’s always interesting, he’s hasn’t been bored in years. Still, he can’t help but wonder if they didn’t share the same face, would he and Fred be as close as they are now?

Or would he be just as easily replaced, most likely by Lee Jordan. Well Ron might make a more susceptible accomplice, would anyone do-

“And where would our fearless leader be without his trustworthy sidekicks?” You say, a hint of a smile twitching at the corner of your lips. Your voice drawing George out of his thoughts.

“Probably in detention” You muse, that or jail, because technically they assaulted their professor, and that’s got to be a serious offense.

George laughs next to you, well you’ve got a point. If it wasn’t for you and him, you three would have been expelled long ago. He’s about to lean over and whisper something in your ear when some interrupts him mid motion.

“Weasley and (L/N), less flirting and more quil movement, yes?” He really sounds like Fred right there, a hint of an accent peaking through. Not that anyone other than you and George seem to notice. They’re all too busy contemplating how embarrassing it must be to get called out for not paying attention by Gilderoy Lockhart of all people.

You manage to not roll your eyes, sifting through your bag until you pull out some parchment.

“Geez four feet? That’s kind of excessive” you mumble while George is holding back laughter so violent he’s actually shaking.

“You know he’s just teasin’ right? It’s not like Lockhart’s actually going to grade these-“ and then a horrible realization dawns on him.

Half of the reason they thought this plan would work is because someone as pompous as Gilderoy Lockhart would never admit that two teenage boys hit him over the head with one of his books, and shoved him on a sofa (after tying his shoe laces together).

No, good old Gildy would go along like nothing had even happened, perhaps he’d even believe that nothing had really happened. Not enough sleep and too much caffeine do result in memory loss. And who can sleep with ‘the heir of Slytherin’ on the loose?

Ordering-sorry, assigning them to write four feet worth of parchment about what they admire about their professor sounds exactly like something he would do.

“Fucking Fred.” George hisses, why did he bloody have to pick four feet? Wouldn’t just one foot have sufficed? But no, the great Fred could never- ‘it adds enthusiasm, it’s all about the drama’ he would say.

Well where’s your god damn drama now that your best friend and brother are about to fail this god forksaken class, all because you couldn’t say one foot instead of f*cking four, George wants to scream.

You sigh, cutting your parchment in half, handing one half to George. You��ve only got four feet on you, you didn’t think you would need any more than that, so the both of you are just going to have to turn in two feet each.

“Sure would be a shame if Fred came back to the dorm and found, oh I don’t know, fifty spiders in his bed” you muse as you pull out two quills, and a bottle of ink. You’ve only got the one bottle, you’ll have to share.

But George isn’t paying any mind to the ink and parchment situation, instead he’s grinning at your suggestion. He always knew you had a wicked streak.

“Yeah it would be a real shame if say, two people were to go down to Hagrid’s hut, collect some drool from Fang, and smear it all over Fred’s robes” You peer at George from the corner of your eye, trying to hide your smile behind your hand.

“Oh well now wouldn’t that just be awful, hypothetically of course” You say, looking down to your parchment

“Truly a tragedy” He responds with a grin.

#harry potter imagine #harry potter #fred and goerge weasley #Fred and George Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #Fred Weasley x reader #george weasley headcanon #george and fred weasley #george weasley x reader

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crellanstein · 4 years

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The Avatar State

I’ve always found the Avatar-State fascinating; not just because it allows characters to do awesome feats of powerful bending -- although that is really cool...

... but more so because the use of the Avatar-State represents moments throughout history in which all the lives of the Avatar were connected simultaneously.

This idea has lead me to some interesting observations.

I think most people reading this will have seen the meme suggesting that it was Kyoshi who took control of the wheel when Aang’s chakras were realigned, so that she could whoop Ozai’s bitch-ass.

If that’s true, then some of the moments when Aang accidentally activated the Avatar State can take on new layers of meaning.

Take for example, this instance...

The GIF lacks audio, but when Aang makes this demand the voices of past Avatars can be heard, layered under his own voice, and they all sound PISSED! Then this happens....

...And it honestly feels like one of the few times that Aang is the one driving on the Avatar-State, (notice he’s only utilizing Air-bending) but I believe there’s more to it.

Most Avatars seen in the show are featured alongside an animal companion, and it is implied by multiple characters that every Avatar has an animal guide.

So, it stands to reason that in this moment we are not just seeing Aang’s rage over Appa’s kidnapping, but all of the past Avatar’s fury as well, from Roku & Fang all the way back to Avatar Wan & Mula. These sand-benders unwittingly violated the most sacred relationship the Avatar has, and when this is revealed they all react together as one; ready to exact a terrible punishment on the perpetrators using their unfathomable powers.

Keep in mind here, the Avatar is basically the living conduit of a God, and I’d be willing to bet even Raava was fired up and ready to take some heads.

This is what I see as a really unacknowledged aspect of the Avatar-State, the collective consciousness of every one of Aang’s past lives working synchronously. Not only does that give the current Avatar access to centuries of collective combat/bending skills; it also gives them access to centuries of Avatar’s knowledge and thoughts. All being processed and used simultaneously.

However, this interconnected-consciousness also has a drawback/weakness. Along with their thoughts & knowledge, all of the past and current Avatar’s emotions are present and accessible as well; that means when something happens which infuriates all of them it is most likely impossible to control or stop the disastrous havoc that they unleash together.

I mean, think for a second about Aang’s final battle, against Ozai...

...That would be absolutely terrifying to witness, let alone try to defend against.

Notice this line towards the end though...

“Firelord Ozai, you and your forefathers have devastated the balance of this world. Now you shall pay the ultimate price!”

Then they do this.

By far the most terrifying use of the Avatar-State yet. That is some unbridled Wrath right there, and it’s another instance where we hear the voices of multiple Avatars speaking as once. The actions of Firelords past so angered them all, that they were fully ready to end Ozai on the spot, and in the most dramatic fashion possible; despite Aang’s wishes.

These two instances are some of the only times we see the Avatar-State used in pure anger instead of in the interest of survival. (I know Aang needed it to survive this fight, but I’m focusing more on this moment when Ozai is lying helpless before them.)

However, the more interesting thing about both these instances is not what the Avatars do in their maddening rage, but rather how they are stopped from doing the worst.

Let’s look at the first example.

Aang is about to eviscerate some sand-benders, but Katara stops him.

Guru Pathik said that the Avatar must let go of earthly attachments, such as singular love, in order to achieve their full potential, but Yangchen tells Aang that this is essentially impossible for the Avatar because they are tied to the world in a way nothing else is.

There’s plenty of evidence of past Avatars with romantic relationships, like Roku’s wife or Kuruk’s lover, and I think this is an important detail. Because like their animal guides, another thing that all or most Avatars would have is a love-interest/romantic partner/soulmate. So, when Katara reaches out to Aang here and you see him turn to look at her face; what you’re really seeing is many past Avatars looking and seeing the faces of their own loved ones.

Remember this isn’t the only time that something like this happens.

“The other Air-benders may be gone, but you still have a family.”

It’s Katara’s voice that brings Aang back after they discover Gyatso’s body at the Southern Air Temple. Because despite what Pathik said, the Avatar absolutely needs something -- Someone -- to anchor them to this world on a personal level; they need a reason to fight besides the greater good of a wide-world they’ll never be able to wholly relate to and care for. Not that the Avatar’s are incapable of relating to the world, but it’s a difficult thing to commit yourself to a cause that exists on such a grand scale, yet rests completely on your shoulders.

It’s hard to find love in ones heart for all people, but to find enough love for just one person is all too easy.

So, the Avatar needs loved ones; people they care for on a deep personal level; people they are willing to fight and die for yes, but more importantly, people who they’ll listen to when told to stop. The Avatar’s power seems altogether limitless, and that limitless power can be uncontrollable when released in anger, and when that happens they need someone who is willing to approach a being filled with what amounts to divine wrath, without fear, and bring them back from the brink of destruction. The only way someone can have the strength and courage to do such a thing is with love.

But there’s also principles.

“No. I’m not going to end it like this.”

Remember that the fury of thousands of Avatars was coursing through Aang’s body at this moment, yet he chooses not to betray his way of life. They could have ended it right then & there and nobody, not even Ozai’s own son, would have judged Aang for it. It would have been an understandable action, a necessary casualty to end the war. Collateral damage for the sake of the greater good.

But Aang says No.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the message that this series ended with. That even when the entire world is telling you to forsake what you believe in for the greater good, the greater good is actually lost when we forsake what we believe in.

If a thousand voices in a room shout at once to do the wrong thing, that does not make it the right thing, and it is up to the one voice that knows this to speak up. If they don’t, all may be lost.

So there it is, we should never let our anger overcome our principles, and when in anger, it is love that will keep us from devastation.

Love & Principles.

Thanks Avatar.

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goldentournesol · 4 years

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Mon Lapin

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Reader owns a French bakery at which Spencer is a regular.

Length: 1.6k

A/N: the french bakery au no one asked for :) i’m aware my French isn’t perfect, please don’t roast me!! MAJOR FLUFF AND PINING

Read Part 2: Mon Cher

masterlist

The air was crisp in September and Spencer loved it. He used the weather as an excuse to leave his house more often. He liked the way the wind nipped at his nose, but when it got too much, he’d find refuge in his favorite French bakery, La Crème de la Crème. The smell of freshly baked bread and buttery pastries gave him a sense of security he longed for. There were other reasons he liked to go there as well...he liked the soft armchairs...the fresh coffee...the beautiful woman who happened to own the bakery. He also liked the way her eyes softened as they met with his upon entering the store. He’d been away, guest lecturing at different universities so he hadn’t visited the bakery in a while.

“Dr. Reid, welcome back! How were the lectures?” She asked warmly, waving at him from across the counter as he offered a shy wave back.

She had her hair tied up in a neat ponytail, with one braid across the top of her head. Her apron had minimal chocolate and coffee stains at which he grinned because he remembered how she’d been complaining to him about how many aprons she’s ruined. Spencer couldn’t help but admire every inch of her. But she’d just asked him a question, what was it?

“Oh, they were great! You know, I’ve found that college students are often at the ends of the interest spectrum. Either they’re extremely interested or they don’t even care, it’s quite amusing.” He commented, heat rushing to his cheeks.

She replied with a soft giggle and nodded. She silently cursed as she noticed a line forming behind him, she wanted to continue the conversation, “I’m sure it is! So what can I get you today, mon lapin? [my bunny] The usual?” Spencer nodded with a hum, a familiar grin adorning his face, “Alright, one coffee and one pain au chocolat coming right up!”

Spencer paid and moved to the side to collect his order, itching to interact with her even more. He still blushed at the nickname, one she’d given to him early on. At first, he had no idea what it meant, which led to a very awkward conversation with Emily, who’d since then made it a point to repeatedly ask him about the mystery person who’d been referring to the lanky doctor with such an adorable term of endearment.

He took a seat at his usual spot and pulled out the current book he was reading. As easy as it is for Spencer to get lost in the words, it was just as easy for her voice to pull his attention away from them. He glanced up at her often to watch her as she greeted customers and brought them their orders. She was entrancing, and he’d often find himself rereading pages and words he thought he missed when in reality, he’d just lost focus. Every once in a while, she’d catch his eye and send him one of her smiles and in those precious moments, he’d be glad he had enough knowledge about human anatomy or else he’d be concerned about the way his heart would swell in his chest.

Spencer looked up from his book to see a man and a woman walking into the bakery together. They looked lost and out of place. They approached the counter and the man spoke with broken English to Y/N.

“Erm, mademoiselle...we are...how do you say...lost?” He stumbled over his words. They were obviously not American.

“Oh! Je peux vous aider, je parle en peu de Français.” [I can help you, I speak a little bit of French.] Y/N beamed at the couple, happy to finally put her language skills to good use.

“Magnifique! On a vu votre pâtisserie et a espéré qu’on va trouver quelqu'un qui parle Francais.” [Magnificent! We saw your pastry shop and hoped to find someone who speaks French] the woman exclaimed, “On a veut aller au musée national d’histoire naturelle, mais on s’est perdue, vous savez les directions?” [We wanted to go to the National Museum of Natural History, but we got lost, you know the directions?]

Spencer watched in amusement as well as in awe as she gave them the directions in flawless French. Although he knew enough to get by, he was nowhere near as fluent as she was. Spencer was rarely ever impressed but the way the words left her mouth reminded him of velvet.

The couple smiled gratefully and waved as they left the store. Y/N felt elated that she’d helped someone, but she couldn’t fight the blush that warmed up her cheeks when she caught Spencer staring at her in awe. He flushed immediately and averted his gaze, embarrassed to have been caught staring. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and straightened out his tie, in an attempt to regain his composure. But all she could do was bite her lip to keep from grinning, which her dear coworker noticed and proceeded to wiggle her eyebrows at her in a teasing manner. Y/N jokingly threw a towel at her coworker who knew all about Y/N’s infatuation with the young doctor.

---

Spencer thought of a plan. Casual conversation was not enough for him, he needed a way to grab her attention while somewhat staying in his comfort zone. What better way to do that than through literature? So, there he was, sat inside the bakery on another beautiful day, holding a French book. Although he recognized some words from English, the sentence structure was throwing him off. He pretended to be engrossed in the words as she passed by his table, a tub full of used plates and silverware perched on her hip.

“Les Fleurs du Mal?” [The Flowers of Evil] Y/N exclaimed as she glanced at the cover of the book Spencer was holding. He mentally high-fived himself before directing his attention to the breathtaking woman, “You didn’t tell me you could read French, mon lapin!” she grinned as she took a seat across from him, placing the tub by her feet. Spencer let his eyes roam over her excited features as he smiled sheepishly.

“Um, well actually I’m only just getting there.” He replied, taking a sip of his now freezing coffee after putting the book down. He’d been too nervous about the plan to even think of his coffee. “Are you a fan of Charles Baudelaire’s work?”

Y/N tried not to swoon over his adorable attempt at pronouncing the French name. It was impossible not to swoon over this man in general, his round amber eyes were as captivating as one’s eyes possibly could be. His eyes reminded her of the way the sun shined through glass jars of honey. She was suddenly grateful for the reduced amount of customers in the bakery.

“Well, I’ve read the poems in Les Fleurs du Mal and I loved the whole thing. Mainly because he wasn’t afraid to be controversial, considering it was published in 1857. I would have never taken you as the type to read lots of French poetry, though, Dr. Reid.” She teased, knowing full well that he was a man of science.

“Why is that? Do I not strike you as the romantic type?” He countered with a raised brow and a lopsided smile, a newfound wave of confidence coursing through his veins.

He couldn’t believe he had her right where he wanted her and that his plan had actually worked. He had no idea, of course, that she’d been closely paying attention to the books he’s read in her shop, hoping that one day she just might recognize one.

She acted like she was thinking about it, placing a finger on her chin theatrically, “Hm, actually, you do. You strike me as the type of guy who would buy flowers for their date, but not red roses, though, too cliché for your liking. You’d probably get them lilies...or irises!” Spencer fell in love with the way she spoke to and about him. He found himself reveling in the sound of her voice and her endearing expressions.

“So which would you prefer?” Spencer asked, eyes softening at her as she brought her gaze back to him.

“What do you mean?” She asked, feeling some heat rising to her cheeks.

“Would you prefer irises or lilies?” He clarified, raising both eyebrows slightly.

If she hadn’t known any better, she’d say that Dr. Spencer Reid was trying to ask her out on a date, but she didn’t push it, in case he wasn’t.

“Lilies.” Y/N grinned. Spencer let out a chuckle and she swore her heart was about to burst.

“Alright, it’s settled.” he announced, taking one last sip of the coffee, “I’ll be getting you lilies for our date.”

She must have misheard him, “Wait, what date?”

“The date we’ll have tomorrow. At 7 pm.” He picked up the book and shoved it into his messenger bag, nodding his head once at her decidedly. “I’ll wait for you here.” He grinned at her as he got up and made his way to the door.

Y/N’s eyes followed him out of the shop. Her brain hadn’t yet processed what had just happened. She looked towards her coworker who had been sneakily watching the encounter from behind the pastries in disbelief and finally snapped out of it when she caught her coworker hugging a towel and squealing. It finally registered and she couldn’t fight the grin that threatened to split her face in two anymore.

That Spencer Reid was one hell of a man.

Part 2: Mon Cher

#spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid masterlist #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine

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theiceandbones · 3 years

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Nova Scotia Bones: a brief listing of famous haunts in Canada’s ocean playground

Nova Scotia is a lobster-shaped granite peninsula that juts out into the North Atlantic on Canada’s east coast. It’s ancient, it’s damp, it’s rocky, and it’s home. It’s also wildly haunted. The impenetrable granite bedrock that we live upon seems to act as its own tomb for the energies of those who departed their earthly vessels on the volatile shores and in the coniferous boreal interior. Or, perhaps, it is our own maritime culture, one that is freckled with memento mori, that adds fuel to these legends that have been passed on through the ages. A culture that lives and dies by the sea is no stranger to tragedy and haunts, eventually one learns to live alongside them. For better or for worse.

I’ve collected a few ghost stories that have stood out to me over the years. When one grows up in Nova Scotia these are a select few that everyone speaks of, some may be lesser known but still thoroughly chilling. These will be arranged in order of popularity.

1. The Young Teazer The Young Teazer was an American privateering schooner who, in June of 1813, would find herself in the waters of Mahone Bay being pursued by the British fleet. Her commander, a Lieutenant Johnston, knew that if he were to be captured he would most certainly hang, and knowing this, he ordered his crew to abandon ship in a major way- the Teazer was exploded, all onboard except for eight perished in the blast. It is now a well-known local legend that on a warm summer’s night, one may still see the reflection of a ship on fire in Mahone Bay’s quiet waters.

2. The forerunner It’s just now occurred to me that I cannot possibly continue without speaking of the forerunner. This phenomenon features extensively within Nova Scotian folklore and is a key aspect of maritime superstition. A forerunner is an omen of death. It may take the shape of the doomed themselves, their scent, a light, an overwhelming sensation of dread directly linked to the individual, a falling photograph of or other object related to the individual, or one’s name being called by the individual. When expecting company, a traditional maritime host will set the large Pyrex kettle on the stove, always containing at least half a dozen teabags, to boil, but sometimes the recently-expected guest may not arrive- ever again. Here are a few selected tales of forerunners from Nova Scotia’s past.

Anyone who is familiar with the series Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark will remember the story of “The Thing.” What they may not know, however, is that this story is based on a real event which happened in Victoria Beach, NS. A Mr. Thorne and his friend, Joe, were out walking at night when they spied behind a neighbour’s house a long, spindly, pale creature dressed in a white shirt, black trousers and black braces peering back at them. Well they had no idea what this creature could be and so they ran back to Joe’s house after it had given them a right spook. Eventually the pair returned only to discover that now the creature was standing atop the fence in the neighbour’s yard, a fence so old it crumbled under a person’s touch, and that’s when it was decided they were done chasing this thing for one evening.

Years later, Joe took ill with consumption and died. Mr. Thorne, his ever-faithful friend, had stayed up with him right up until the very end. Joe’s condition had wasted him away so powerfully he was nary more than skin and bone by the time he’d passed. Mr. Thorne through the years had been hesitant to tell this story at all, for a good reason. Because, he says, toward the end of Joe’s life, lying in bed in his graveclothes, he looked just like The Thing.

In Liverpool, NS, a Mrs. Viola Oickle was seated at the kitchen table playing cards with her friends when she looked up and in the window, plain as day, was her Uncle Ernie. “There’s Uncle Ernie” she said, they’d heard the latch on the door open, but Ernie never showed. After cards she decided she’d go round to Ernie’s house to check on him, and there he was, peeling apples on his front step fit as a fiddle. However, mere hours later, Ernie had died of a heart attack at his home.

Marion Bridge in Cape Breton is home to a wealth of ghost stories, of course the forerunner is one of these. In addition to one’s apparition, three knocks may also be an omen. A Mrs. MacGillivray tells the story of her mother waiting up one night for her father to come home when she heard the sound of a wagon being pulled by horses up the road. They stopped, then came three knocks at the door- which was strange, but her mother figured he may need a hand with something outside. Looking out, she realised no one was there at all. Of course she knew what three knocks meant and feared the worst for her husband. Eventually he returned home in his usual health, but her mother was still confused. A while later the body of a man was found up a nearby road and the men who’d discovered it stopped at the house to change horses at night. They knocked three times on the door, exactly the same sequence of events which transpired when her mother had heard the knocks before.

3. Treasure The province has a storied history of pirates and privateering, so it comes as no surprise that stories of buried treasure are quite popular. As superstition has it, when digging for treasure, one must not speak until the task is done. If a word is spoken, the treasure will never be found. The spirits of pirates go to great lengths to ensure this, one tale tells of a man digging for a hidden treasure with his wife and young daughter. His wife pipes up, “oh would you look at those monkeys!” This is eastern Canada, as such there are no monkeys native to the area. Unsurprisingly, there were no monkeys to be found, and the treasure itself was never uncovered. Speaking of pirates

4. Black Rock Beach/Maugers Beach In Halifax’s early days as the port city it remains today, it was no stranger to pirates. Pirates, however, were not so welcome in Halifax as one may assume. When a pirate was caught in Halifax, they would be hanged and displayed in an iron cage at Black Rock Beach at the harbour’s mouth, or at Maugers (pronounced locally as Major’s) Beach on McNab’s Island a little further out. This is how the latter gained its name as Dead Man’s Beach.

5. Other phantom ships Nova Scotia’s ties to the sea are a major part of its cultural superstition. From “red sky at night” to “never sail if you see a forerunner,” seafaring superstitions are etched into the fabric of life around here. It comes as no surprise, then, that there are so many stories of ghost ships in the mix. One such story comes from 1874, an experience of a Captain Hatfield from Fox River, NS as he was sailing from Cuba to New York. Asleep in his cabin one night, he felt three taps on his shoulder and a voice urging him, “keep her off half a point.” He figured this was the mate or another of his officers, but they each assured him it was not them. He felt the tapping and heard the voice again. As he was growing annoyed, he got up to look around and saw a man climbing up the ladder but was not dressed like the others onboard. Nevertheless, he got up and gave the order to keep the ship off half a point. When morning came, a wreck was spotted half a point off course of his ship, and onboard came Captain Amesbury of the schooner D. Talbot, his wife, child, and his crew. Captain Hatfield recounted the story of the night before to the captain and his wife, to which the wife informed him the man he saw was her father who had passed ten years prior.

A story from Seabright of a fishing vessel that was lost in a sou-easter tells of a captain who’d not turn back as the other boats did, but instead dared the lord to stop him from staying behind. The ship was lost, of course, and for ages onwards sailors would recount seeing a bright light at night that disappeared during the day. It would tack when the respective vessel tacked, but no one ever saw the shape of the boat itself- just its light. But, as sailors do say, one can feel a ship just as one can feel a person nearby.

6. St. Paul’s face in the window This one dates to the time of the Halifax Explosion which occurred on the 6th of December 1917. St. Paul’s Church is the oldest building in Halifax, its foundation having been laid in the year of the city’s founding in 1749. As legend has it, the deacon of the church was standing in the window parallel to the Narrows of the harbour when the French munitions ship, Mont Blanc, exploded. His profile remains in the window to this day and can be seen via Argyle Street.

7. The Black Window House Another Halifax legend, the Black Window House on Robie Street has a long history of superstition. It was built in 1840 for the first elected mayor of Halifax, William Caldwell. It is said to be haunted because of its infamous black window. Local legend states that once a man peered in the window and saw witches dancing their dance of death on the verandah. When the witches caught him spying, they turned the window black.

8. The Town Clock One of Halifax’s most iconic landmarks is the Town Clock on Citadel Hill. This is one of the few surviving round structures designed by the Duke of Kent during his visit to Halifax in the late 18th century. It is said that before the clock was constructed, there existed a well near the site where it stands today. A young girl was reportedly playing near this well when she fell in and died. Her spirit is said to remain in the clock tower to this day.

9. Citadel Hill No discussion of Nova Scotian haunts is complete without discussing Citadel Hill. The Halifax Citadel is today a national historic site, however in the past it was used as a fully-operational military fortification and is one of the best-remaining examples of a star fortress worldwide. Ghost stories from the Hill are many and varied, and some workers have reported seeing strange phenomena themselves such as footprints behind locked metal grates. In the month of October, ghost tours are given by costumed interpreters at the site where famous stories are recounted. Some guests report their hand being held by a smaller, invisible hand, others talk of seeing a ghostly man in the uniform of the 78th Highlanders Regiment walking the grounds only to disappear. It is worth noting that the Citadel never once fired a shot in anger.

10. The Five Fishermen This popular (and pricey) Halifax restaurant serves up fine dining and spirits...not always of the alcoholic variety. Restaurant staff over the years have reported cutlery flying off of tables, seeing apparitions in the washrooms turning the taps on and off, doors closing on their own, and hearing their name called when no one is around. The form of a grey figure is also said to wander down the staircase.

11. The gallows For a time after Halifax’s founding, a gallows was set up on the corner of what is now Lower Water and George Streets. Public executions were a spectacle that could be viewed by all townspeople of all ages. According to local legend, on a clear night the ghost of a hanged man is said to be seen swinging by his neck in the spot where the old gallows used to stand.

12. Dagger Woods I cannot stress enough how creepy and unsettling this area is. In northern Antigonish County there is a forest known as Dagger Woods. In this forest, there is said to live a demon known as the Hidey Hinder who steals unsuspecting visitors to the underworld, the person is never seen or heard from again, supposedly vanishing into thin air. People travelling through the woods report hearing strange and frightening cries that they cannot place, and, understandably, avoid the area afterwards. The woods are the subject of a song by the same name by Nova Scotian folk metal band, The Stanfields.

13. Peggy’s Cove Peggy’s Cove is by far one of Nova Scotia’s most popular tourist destinations. As a lifelong resident of Nova Scotia, I encourage you to visit this beautiful point but please, PLEASE, stay off the black rocks for god’s sake. Anyway, the ghost who is lucky enough to live here is, of course, named Margaret. The story goes that Margaret and her husband settled here after a shipwreck claimed the lives of their children. Margaret was heartbroken, and so her husband decided to cheer her up. He made his way onto the rocks where Margaret would often sit and lament her lost children and performed a dance for her, but it would turn out even worse- he slipped and fell to his death. In a fit of agony, Margaret threw herself off the rocks and into the sea, and her ghost is said to haunt the rocks of Peggy’s Point to this day.

14. Caledonia Mills, or Mary Ellen’s Spook Farm Back in 1922, the MacDonald family lived on a farm in Caledonia Mills situated in Antigonish County. Their adopted daughter, named Mary Ellen, was not held in high regard. A series of fires that had taken place during the winter devastated the family, and Mary Ellen was said to be at the root of them; it was believed she was born of an evil spirit. When she denied these accusations, she was sent to live in an asylum. Her spirit still resides in her farm, and to any unlucky visitor who’d like to bring back a souvenir, they might find that mysterious fires start to ignite in their own home. Best to leave the farm in one piece.

15. Horton’s Cove This is not one that’s widely known to many, however it is a story very personal to myself. On a spot of land in Guysborough County, the remains of a young boy who died in the early 20th century are buried. The grave is unmarked and the boy’s cause of death is unknown. That being said, his presence can be felt in both the field and the hills around where his resting place is said to be, and trust me when I say there is no feeling quite as unnerving.

16. Cole Harbour Poor Farm/Bissett Road Asylum In the 1920s there existed a mental asylum in a quiet part of Cole Harbour, outbound toward the harbour itself. The building is no longer there, said to have burnt to the ground in a fire, however the spirits of its residents can be felt in the vacant lot on the hill where it used to stand. Across the street on the edge of a sprawling field is a small fenced cemetery containing ten unmarked white crosses. It is rumoured that these graves house the remains of children who used to live in the asylum, though it is more likely that these graves were intended for adult residents. It is not yet known whose remains these are.

Dealings with the paranormal and superstition is a way of life for many in Nova Scotia. It is our maritime history and culture which largely feed these beliefs, whether one believes in them is entirely up to the individual themselves. One thing that isn’t so easy to shake, though, is the sensation that there’s something in the trees or that field over there. Say, what’s on the water?

#nova scotia #halifax #home #ghost stories to make you feel spooky aaaa #ghosts #bleh bleh blehhhh ooo

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steepgan · 3 years

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someone dear (i) — d. ragnvindr x f!reader

PART I - PART II - PART III

bye i created this on a whim ive always wanted to write an mc who just likes money yet still carries the “happiness/freedom” ideals of mondstadt.. essentially its an mc whos like hell yeah i love money <3 and fun..!!! okay also i did not edit this at all i was just like <3 writing time baby..

Of course, working for the wealthiest gentleman in Mondstadt was no easy task. There were two places you could work: Dawn Winery or Angel’s Share. The winery, settled in the countryside, was a cozy job with friendly workers who saw rolling hills of green every day; however, the only available occupation within your skillset was being a maid. So you worked at Angel’s Share which was planted in the city, and there you were greeted with weary workers and angry people. It was plenty more fun, anyway.

Your boss was as impassive as a tree, giving you your pay and leaving you be. He kept a strange emotional distance. Which was fine. Totally fine. But whenever you wanted a raise, his aloof attitude warded you off and you’d tell yourself you’d try next time.

Growing up in a household where money was a prominent figure in your life, you had materialistic values and a great love for money. So during your employment at the tavern, you picked up more shifts than anyone else and seldom splurged. You were stuck giving your laments to your friends and returning customers who were kind enough to humor wails.

“One of these days, Lisa, I’m actually going to lose it,” you said to the librarian of the knights. You slumped your body on the bar, clearly in a professional fashion. “What do you want to drink?”

Lisa gave you a pitying look. “You could always become a knight or an adventurer. They receive plenty of pay through commissions.”

“No, thank you! I kind of want to live.”

“I don’t think I’ll have anything to drink,” Lisa said. She laughed at your sullen expression. “Today, at least. I have to explore these ruins later today. I really, really don’t want to, but Jean is making me.”

You slid a tin can labelled TIPS to Lisa. “Every time you don’t want to do something it’s five mora.”

“Since when did this become a thing?”

“It’s always been a thing. I was just giving you a family-friend discount up until now.”

Lisa dropped the coins into the can. You smiled at the sound of click-clank. Lisa rested her cheek on the palm of her hand and said, “have you ever thought about… not working for the tavern? I’m sure there are other places in the world that’ll appreciate your pleasant company.”

“Yeah, but Master Diluc pays the best in Mondstadt if you don’t have a decent education under your belt,” you said dryly. “I’d have to travel out of Mondstadt to find a better opportunity.”

“There’s always the cathedral,” Lisa offered.

“Do you see me as a devout follower to any god other than money? [Name], Humble Follower of Barbatos Since The Beginning! Engrave that on my tombstone, would you?”

“I don’t really want to do that.”

You pushed the tin can toward the librarian.

Lo and behold, the man of the hour strutted in with his typical apathy. If he carried himself with a more open chest and with his chin up, you’d find him more agreeable, more approachable. He’d be knightly, even. But Diluc hated knights. He hated small talk, too. He hated a lot of things.

He was a man of good looks and good fortune, in addition to being Mondstradt’s most eligible brooding bachelor bastard, donning a nice black coat with golden trimmings and tassels. A coat that’d fetch a nice price if you were to pawn it off. Not that you were thinking about selling your boss’ clothes. He stood at a decent height with his vermillion messy hair tied back and narrow eyes framed with thick lashes.

When Diluc walked through the doors, he didn’t spare you a glance before climbing up the stairs to deal with some other matters. As long as you did your job, he didn’t bother you.

Lisa whistled. “He’s so cold.”

“Pays well, though,” you murmured absentmindedly. Lisa looked as if she wanted to say something. Maybe it was something about how money didn’t exactly suffice for human relationships. Or something about her future job for the knights. Whatever was on the tip of her tongue, she chose not to say it, and dropped a few more mora coins into your little tin can.

Your relationship with Diluc was strange. You took enough shifts to be one of the most well-compensated workers under him, but you didn’t exactly know Diluc outside of his cool exterior. You didn’t know if you’d wanted to, either. Some nights, he’d come home right before the tavern’s opening, his clothes tattered and dirty and a grim feature coating his pretty features.

Typically you’d be working and cleaning, and you’d nod to him. Diluc would then take off to the second floor of the tavern. You never questioned it. You never would, either, unless you were paid to do so.

One late night, it was just you cleaning up for the night and Diluc sitting at the bar, going through some papers. Diluc offered to take Charles’ shift for the day, to which the man was grateful for. As you were wiping down the bar, Diluc said, “I never knew we had a tip jar.”

“It’s an ongoing gag with Lisa,” you said. “Please don’t mind it.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. It was a joke with Lisa! You simply kept it out on the counter for every customer to see all day and all night. If they happen to drop mora in there for your charming smile and excellent service, who were you to stop them?

Diluc said nothing. You hadn’t expected him to. He’d let it slide, you supposed. If the tavern had a best employee of the month award, you would have won it consecutively for the last few years you’d been employed under the pretty man. However, Diluc was no great lover of trivial awards that were actually poorly concealed incentives, and as long as you were paid accordingly, you didn’t care about awards, either.

“If you needed a raise then say it,” he said suddenly. And you were surprised.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No need.”

When you left the tavern you squealed. Patton, the caller, awoke from his nap from a chair supposedly for customers. His legs had been propped on the accompanying table, which you had cleaned earlier so you didn’t have to deal with a certain customer who had too much to drink inside.

Patton rubbed his eyes groggily. “What’s up, [Name]?”

“I got a raise!” you exclaimed. “I’m so happy I could kiss you right now, Patton.”

“Please don’t,” he said. “What’s that in your hand?”

“Oh, leftovers.” You gave the small bag you were holding a good jostle. “It’s for the dog up there. I have a habit of feeding him every once in a while whenever there’s good scraps.”

Patton eyed you. “If you get bit and infected with rabies, maybe I’ll take your raise. Try and pet it for me, would you?”

“In your dreams, Patton.”

After a few taunts and banter, you left Patton alone. In a few hours, you’d come back to the tavern to work more. Before your mom had been hospitalized, you’d maybe put your extra money to treat yourself to Good Hunter or to buy new clothes.

Of course, while money was one of your many goals, you had other aspirations as well. More than anything, you’d like to resume a humble life in Mondstadt. If you could afford it, then you’d travel to Liyue and sightsee. And then maybe a little further. But you’d always return to Mondstadt. It was just home to you, and you liked home.

You crouched and fed the dog. He pressed his snout into your palm, warm and comforting. You giggled and finished the leftovers from your little sack. As much as Patton wanted you to die of infection, the dog was very tame and kind toward you. He let you brush his fur and scratch behind his ears. If you had enough patience and enough time, you’d teach him to bite Patton.

The next day, you were working with Charles, as per usual. He’d been working here far longer than any of you. You’d been employed here for a while now, and you’d come to know the man quite well after rowdy nights and quiet days in the tavern. He despised a drunk customer as much as you, but whenever you were on shift with him, he always offered to take care of it.

If not you, then Charles would get the nonexistent employee of the year award.

“Just put up a work wanted poster,” Charles said, cleaning a glass. “Judging by our usuals, we won’t get an honest inquiry for it in a while.”

You, who’d been making an apple cider, said, “oh, for the boars?” While you did want to work at the winery for its pleasant view and people, there were boars who’d been uprooting vines and you did not want to tussle with a boar.

“Say, [Name], you heard of the Darknight Hero?”

“Who hasn’t?” you asked. “My friends talk about him all the time. Everyone likes a good mystery around these parts. Have you seen the library? Oh, and the idea of him being handsome isn’t that bad… Do you think he’s rich, Charles?”

Charles snorted. “If he can afford to leave at night to protect Mondstadt, then he must be rich. He’s no worker like us, but he’s definitely noteworthy. He may as well just be an urban rumor, though, so don’t go around trying to seduce him only to get into his pockets.”

“I would never!”

“I saw you make eyes at a customer who was wearing very fine jewelry that could be pawned off for a high price.”

“I liked her eyes. They were kind. Reminded me of a princess from a fairytale.”

Diluc came from upstairs to the first floor. He was the same as he’d always been—closed off, calm, and collected. Fitting. He cast a quick glance at you and Charles before disappearing outside onto the streets of Mondstadt.

“That’s Master Diluc for you,” Charles said. “So elusive you could call him a ghost. A handsome, ghost, that is.”

“I barely know anything about him,” you said. “Elusive is correct, if not absolutely distant.”

“Really? You should talk to him more often.”

There was already a set difference between you and Charles. Firstly, it would be the years working at Angel’s Share. Charles knew Diluc more than you did. You wanted to point this out, but instead you slumped your shoulders. “He’s just so unapproachable, Charles. You wouldn’t understand. That mustache of yours makes you look amicable and agreeable.”

Charles self-consciously twirled the end of his mustache. He looked as if he wanted to say something. He turned back to his work, setting the clean glass down. “You and Master Diluc seem to complement each other, that’s all.”

You were very friendly and a good person underneath all your materialistic values. Had it not been for Diluc’s offstandish personality, maybe you and Diluc would be a little more than boss and employee. Maybe you and Diluc would be friends.

Of course, your main focus was your happiness and sanity. If you’d interacted with Diluc outside of work, you might’ve gone insane. Oh! And money. It was always money. You watched a customer drop a few mora into the tip jar.

PART I - PART II - PART III

#diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact diluc #x reader #PLEASEEEE IM LOSING IT ITS ACTUALLY SO BAD IM NOT HAPPY AT ALL #genshin impact fluff

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justnerdthings · 3 years

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Never Again Ch.3

Female OC x Raiden/Shang Tsung (it's gonna be both)

I don't know what to say to get ya'll interested in this story. But for those who are enjoying it: a great big thank you. Tell me what you think. I'm open to everything.

Shang Tsung’s screams echoed off the walls and throughout the palace. The greenery that had reclaimed the palace shriveled and died in their places. Their life energy was drained and wisping through the halls quickly towards the throne room. Outside the palace, the flora and wildlife met the same fate as that inside the palace. Trees became brittle and fell, animals laid down to rest before peacefully slipping away. This gentle plague quickly spread throughout the island until there was no life left.

Feeling her sources exhausted, Helena removed her hand from Shang Tsung’s chest. He collapsed immediately. She’d caught him and set him on his throne. A deal had been made. He would help her if she would help him. His idea. But of course Helena knew of Shang’s trickery. She made sure to put a failsafe in place. If he broke his vow before the plan was realized, this lovely gift she’d just bestowed him would be void. For now, it seemed she’d tamed this wild snake.

Helena stepped back from him and down the steps as he began coughing violently. A smirk pulled her lips. Was she rusty? Yes. But she was just as powerful. Confusion came to Shang’s face as his coughing fit grew. His old eyes locked on her as he struggled to catch his breath. He was choking. His eyes turned bloodshot and his veins darkened under his paling skin. Had she just killed him? But they had a deal! That lying witch! Shang growled through his distress as he leaned forward and gasped. Something had lodged in his throat.

She watched him, grinning ear to ear. No, she hadn’t sentenced him to death. Not yet.

Shang lifted a shaking hand, summoning a small, weak green flame. Watching her smirk, he tried to attack her with it. It barely left his hand before it sputtered itself out. “Wi-witch!” He choked out in his frustration.

She chuckled as she watched him writhe in his pain and suffering. “I have not cheated you, Shang Tsung. The pain means it is working. It is best if you do not fight it.”

He only caught part of what she was saying. His mind was numbing. His vision was failing. His eyelids drooped as he succumbed to the lack of air.

Helena watched as his strength began to leave him. Her smirk fell to a playful pout. She caught him with a spell as he fell forward from his throne. “The spirits of this island are fond of you, Shang Tsung. Let them heal you,” she cooed.

One last gasp and Shang spewed black wisps from his mouth. Helena collected them all with waves of her hand, holding them hostage in a glowing purple orb. “That’s it,” she coaxed gently. “Expel this curse from your body.” With her other hand, she gently pushed him with her mind back onto his throne. More of the wisps came, erupting from the old sorcerer. Soon though, the convulsing stopped.

Shang leaned back on his throne, breathing heavy with his eyes closed. He was so exhausted. He had never been so exhausted. There was nothing left in him. He could barely lift an armored finger as he felt finger tips tease the underside of his chin. Weakly his eyes opened to see Helena leaning over him. She grinned as his eyes found her and removed her hand. Helena straightened and turned. He followed her gaze to the purple orb, the size of a small car, filled with a black, violent energy. It slammed against its confines, demanding to be released. But Helena had it perfectly secured.

Helena looked back to him. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Such craftsmanship… this curse you have harbored. Who gave you this?”

He was still breathing hard. Staring at the curse that had been part of him for centuries, he could not believe that it was truly removed from him. “They did not specify their identities,” he breathed. “They only said that they were my gods,” he told her, remembering the day he was cursed by those strange entities.

“How vague…” She looked back to the curse as it continued to struggle.

Shang pushed himself forward and leaned on his arm. “What shall we do with it?”

“Mm.” She bounced the orb playfully on the stone floor, teasing the curse inside from a distance. “It is your curse. You may do what you wish with it.” Pulling and closing her hand towards her, the orb flew to her and shrunk to fit in her palm. She held it and gave it a small shake. It was like a little, angry snow globe. She held it out for Shang, who took it carefully in a weak hand.

It vibrated in his grip. Chills were sent up his spine. His heart pounded. He shivered. It was energy--pure energy that he was feeling. Shang took in a deep breath and felt some strength return to him. This little angry snowglobe was like a battery to him. That could prove useful.

“Ah, now here comes the Shang Tsung I remember,” Helena said with that haunting smirk of hers. He looked away from the orb to her. She summoned an old mirror into her hands. The reflection that Shang Tsung saw was the image of himself, growing younger by the seconds. Helena let the mirror hover in front of him as she stepped away. “So handsome and virile…” Shang Tsung woke to find himself still seated on his throne. Daylight now shone through the windows and brightened his palace. He rolled his neck and shoulders which cracked and popped all back into place. All evidence of the island’s reclamation had vanished. How long had he been asleep? When did he fall into a slumber? The last thing he remembered was his own face growing younger before his eyes. Helena… He lifted a clawed hand to rub his face of sleep and stood. He moved with such ease. He practically glided down the steps to the floor. Kicking something, he stopped and looked to see a small glass orb rolling away. Shang reached out and summoned it to his hand. It came so easy. The orb vibrated in his hand… the curse compacted inside still fought for release. He closed his fingers around it, grip tight. Grip strong. He felt younger.

His island however… was barren of life. Husks of birds, rodents, and bugs littered the ground. The dense forests had dried up and collapsed. The once beautiful roses that lined his court yard had all shriveled and died. There was nothing left. His paradise of an island… gone.

“It will grow back,” Helena spoke behind him. He turned to see her. She stood there as elegant as ever. Sleek black hair to her waist. Brown eyes wide and full of mischievous life. Lips painted dark red and curled into that devilish grin. Her robes: black with intricate royal purple stitching. A matching purple sash was tied around her waist, showing off that slender figure. Her skin seemed porcelain under the bright sun. She truly was a beauty.

“You look much livelier this morning,” she told him. “Your color has even returned.”

Shang looked to his armored hand. The skin that peeked through was tanned and smooth. Not a wrinkle or freckle in sight. “What did you do to me?” he asked, even his voice sounded stronger.

Her grin grew as she stepped closer to him. He now dwarfed her by several inches. Had he gotten taller? His brows knotted. What sorcery was this?

“I guided the spirits of your island to heal you. You are no longer cursed and have become what you once were, before the curse plagued you. You are free, Shang Tsung… Mostly,” she told him. “There still is the matter of our little agreement.”

“I do not need souls to survive…” The idea seemed so alien to him. It had been a major part of his life for centuries.

“No. But your magic still relies on them.”

“I will age normally?”

“Yes. However, you may continue to use souls to replenish your life as you need. Or I could simply help you with that again should you wish it.”

“What sorcery is this you use? I have never witnessed such magic.”

“Oh? It is not much different from yours. You take energy from the souls around you, of those you defeat in kombat. I take the energy of all spirit around me.” She gestured to the lifeless flora and fauna that surrounded them. “Be it plant, animal… or person.” She turned to face him again. “I simply ask for it. If they decide it worthy, they give their life to me.”

“Why not simply take it?” Shang Tsung asked. That is what he had always done. Take. If he wanted it, it was his.

“I could. But then I run the risk of upsetting the balance.”

“The balance?”

“Life and death. It is a balance. For something to live, something must die… For you to be cured of your curse and to live as you should, an equal exchange must be given.”

“And if you upset this balance?”

“Then chaos reigns.”

“Then control it,” he said simply.

She grinned to him again and closed the distance between them. His eyes locked on hers as her hands snaked up his arms slowly, feeling him. Was Raiden’s lover attempting to seduce him? His eyes searched her for a hint of her intentions, but she may have been as hard to read as himself. He caught her wrists as her hands reached his shoulders. She didn’t fight him. “You seem to be back in your prime, Shang Tsung. A real lady killer, as it were.”

“Are you volunteering?” He raised a brow. He watched her grin grow.

“You should be so lucky,” she crooned as she slipped her hands from his grip. She then stepped back and turned away. “You have much to do.”

He didn’t bother to fight the urge to look over her backside before looking up at the sky. The barrier… Hand clutching the orb, he took a deep breath, feeling himself drink in the raw energy. His jutsu was so seamless as he readied the spell. His green magic shot up into the sky, building a new barrier around his island. Helena watched with a wicked smile. Even if Raiden found her, he would not be able to reach her here.

#Mortal Kombat #Mortal Kombat 11 #Raiden #Lord Raiden #x oc #oc x #raiden x oc #oc x raiden #fanfic #mortal kombat fanfiction #fic #fanfictions #shang tsung #oc x shang tsung #shang tsung x oc #never again

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rxmanticdevil · 3 years

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One Shot #1 - Magicians for Sport, Trelawny’s side

Characters: Josiah Trelawny, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith Spoilers: Through Ch. 3 Words: ~3142 Trigger warnings: Kidnapping, violence, choking Explanation for this abomination: The story mission “Magicians for Sport” from the perspective of what happened to Trelawny. Josiah is minding his own business, bounty hunters decide they want a chat. Things get better from there (just kidding, they don’t get better). This has most likely been written before but tbh I didn’t look because I wanted to write it and I’ve just done research for my degree and I don’t want to research anymore.))

Trelawny was hardly registering his actions as he placed the two small slices of bread on a plate, a small meal for the early morning. His mind was distracted, his thoughts with the gang he had grown so fond of. Those bounty hunters were quite determined to get a hold of Dutch. And Arthur. The whole gang was in danger, which wasn’t really out of the norm. But this time it felt different, those bounty hunters seemed determined in a way that put Josiah’s hair on end.

The sound of hooves on dirt caught his already heightened attention, and he glanced out his window to see familiar figures coming up the path to the small collection of caravans full of the unsavory people he had found to blend into.

Those were the bounty hunters he had spoken to by the state line. Without wasting any time he pulled the curtains closed, locking the doors as he could. His caravan only had two rectangular rooms, but two doors – two areas of vulnerability.

He held his breath, they were getting closer, there were voices: We’re looking for a guy.

Another voice. The fence who operated out of the next caravan over. He pressed his ear against his front door, straining to hear. But he couldn’t make out what was being said, there was no loyalty here and he knew what the bounty hunters wanted. He was familiar enough with people like them – he knew what they’d do to get it.

The seconds ticked by but felt like hours until he heard the sound of horses trotting away. He took a deep breath, nearly collapsing to his knees from relief.

“Thank God….” – and the fence too. It seemed he would be escaping this scenario unharmed.

He went back to his plate of food but was once more unable to focus on it, his hands trembling too violently to be useful whenever he attempted to spread the raspberry jam over the bread. His mind raced. The bounty hunters were here, in Rhodes. While Josiah didn’t know where Dutch and the others were holed up now, he did know they would be coming back this way. It was imperative that he tracked them down, any of the gang down, at least to deliver the message –stay low, for God’s sake your lives are at stake. Stay. Alert.

Advice he should have heeded himself, it seemed.

The back door was kicked open with an unparalleled violent force at the same time as the front door. The sudden actions causing Josiah’s heart to jump, near pounding out of his chest, and his body escaped to the farthest point from the most immediate intruder at his front doorway. Unfortunately, that was the edge of his bed and it was hardly any more distance at all.

“Good morning, sir,” the bounty hunter coming from the front stood in his doorway, his body filling up the door frame as he held a gun in his hand, “We just got a few questions for you, we won’t be long.”

It was one of the first times in a long time that Trelawny felt genuine fear. Trapped, his revolver by the door where the man stood– there was no way he could get it without being grabbed – or shot. He could only wait for what would happen next. A fact that the man before him seemed to savor, drinking in Trelawny’s paled face and white knuckles clinging to the edge of his bed.

The man’s face melted into a cruel grin as he neared, “You remember me, right? We spoke at the state line?” he waited a moment, taunting Josiah to respond. “You remember we were talking – about Dutch Van der Linde? My colleagues and I seem to think you left out some details.”

“You must have me confused with someone else. I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t, huh?” a fist went to the framed photograph on his wall, shattering the glass as it fell to the ground. The sharp action, the threat, caused Trelawny to jump. If these men didn’t kill him soon his heart would surely do him in.

“I told you, I just got here from Oregon-” It wasn’t acting this time, how his voice pitched up, squeaking out the story he had threaded during their earlier encounter.

A hand grabbed his neck and threw him onto the ground, into the glass. His attacker wasted no time looming over him, leaning down to grab him once more by the throat, pulling Josiah up close to his face.

“Try again.”

“I don’t know anything-”

The fist came at him once. And then twice. He was seeing stars, trying to regain any sense of equilibrium before he was picked up and thrown once more, like a ragdoll, from one side of his caravan to the other. His back hit his counter, knocking the shelves down.

“I said try again.”

Trelawny felt blood coming from his wounds, and an anger building inside him. Fear dissipating for a moment – how dare these men come into his home and cause such a mess. His hand balled into a fist, and he took the moment to throw a punch.

“And I said I don’t know anything, now leave.” He swung his fist, shocking the attacker just long enough to clip the man’s cheek. But before he could follow up, he felt two arms grab him tight from behind. The other bounty hunter. But Trelawny was determined: They had made it clear that he wasn’t getting out of this unscathed whether he cooperated or not.

He brought his elbow up and swung it back in a short, sharp motion- aiming to do as much damage as possible to the gut before he used his elbow and upper arm as the pendulum to swing his fist down into a more sensitive area. The bounty hunter yelped, releasing him.

A glint in the light caught his eye, his cane! A weapon he could get! He made a move for it, pulling it up and swinging down hard with the intent to end this quickly against the man who was doubled over in pain.

Then, there was nothing.

_______

“Then the idiot went after Davey and I grabbed one of the vases and smashed it over his head,” the bounty hunter lit his cigarette and brought it to his lips, “Dropped like a rock.”

“But he didn’t say anything?”

“Not a damn thing,” the man grumbled.

Well, that all certainly explained his splitting headache. He felt the dirt on his cheek, from his face having been in it for who knew how long. But the rest of his body didn’t seem to be responding. Not wanting to alert his new… friends that he was awake, but needing to check his situation, he slowly tried to move his limbs. All he found though was his wrists bound tight together as well as his ankles. Oh, if there was ever a time he wished for the gang to show up from one of their misadventures it would be now.

“Hey, George,” a third bounty hunter spoke to the first, “Look, your friend.”

And then all eyes were on him, and he knew he couldn’t play dead any longer. The bounty hunters eyeing him from their lean-to as he struggled in vain on the ground. ‘George’ gave him a grin, a sickening grin that told Trelawny nothing good was in his future. However futile struggling was, that look made Trelawny only try to free himself faster. It was no use of course, the man stepped over him, straddling him as he pulled his head up off the ground by the throat.

“Good morning, partner,” he said, cruelty in every line on the man’s face.

“I’d brush my teeth if I were you, good sir. You might scare children like that-”

A hand came sharp across his face, “Shut up, fool. You’re in no place to talk to anyone like that.” His throat was gripped even tighter, and Josiah’s body began to panic for air. He could barely register as the man above him spoke.

“Where. Are. They? Where. Is. Dutch?”

“I don’t know any Dutch fellows.” If he wasn’t going to tell them before he certainly wasn’t going to now after they had been so rude and rough.

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, “Dammit! I know you know!” The hand squeezed his throat tighter, and he felt himself gasping – fighting for air.

“Don’t kill him, George, or we’ll never get our answer. He just needs some more persuasion. Or maybe to be kept with us a little longer. If they find out we have him, they might send someone to get him back.”

“Think he’s worth somethin’ as bait?”

The hand relaxed on his throat and he gasped for air. Trelawny was less than soothed by that idea no matter that it bought him a few more minutes (hours? Days?) of life. He despised the thought of being bait for the Van der Linde gang. Sure, they exchanged favors of bailing each other out of sticky situations, but surely this would cross a line.

“So I can’t kill him but I can….”

Trelawny realized in that moment that he had let himself get distracted by thought, George had returned to his side. His eyes read nothing less than sadistic desire.

Whack! “Ahhh!” His legs dulled with the ache of great pain.

Whack! Pain shot through his side.

Whack! His shoulder screamed.

Each hit pulled a gasp from his lips. He caught a glimpse of the weapon – his cane. It came down on him again, and again.

“Hey, George! What’d we say? You’re going to kill him!”

“Fine by me!”

And then he saw the shine from the metal head of the cane as the shaft was swung down on him. He was out again.

_____

This time when he gained consciousness, he was sitting up. His arms tied still, his legs remained bound, and his vision blurred.

“There he is, good morning sunshine,” it was that George fellow again. Trelawny realized he didn’t have much voice left at all. His body weak, pain aching through every bone and every joint.

It was a time he could genuinely say he wished they would just kill him instead of continuing this treatment.

“Look, friend,” Davey knelt next to him, “We can let you go. Just tell us where they are. We can even give you some of the money. You know how much those guys are worth. You’d never have to work a day in your life again.”

Give him some of the money? Trelawny knew Dutch’s bounty was high. That would be no small sum but- no, how could he even entertain the idea? He might not have many morals, but he certainly had friends.

“I don’t… I don’t know… who you- you’re talking about-”

“BULLSHIT,” George was back in the scene. He kicked over Trelawny’s chair and the man fell to the hard, filthy cabin floor with a hard thud. Before he could gather his bearings once more a sharp foot made contact with his gut. The foot pulled back to go at him again.

“Whoa, George! Relax. We’ll make him talk yet. C’mon, I got an idea,” and Davey gave George a glance. A knowing glance. One that Trelawny was not happy to see them exchanging. He felt himself being yanked up by his arms, each touch hitting a point of injury sending shockwaves through his body and eliciting a cry from his lips. “Let’s get you out of here, come on boy.”

“The thing is,” George spoke as they began to pull the man out of the small cabin and down the steps, “after that shack, this will be remembered like a good time.”

“Put the man down, gentleman.” And then there was the click of two guns.

Trelawny could barely focus long enough to feel the relief wash over him in a tidal wave. That voice. Oh, that dear voice. That sweet voice. George left his side, and then Davey dropped him to the ground. It was another hard fall, but he was so filled with that joyous relief that he barely registered the pain. He wasn’t even sure if the tears in his eyes were from pain or relief – most likely both.

Feet entered his field of vision, a knife too – but any fear was dissipated when he realized it was none other than Charles. Another of Dutch’s loyal knights.

“That the lot of them?”

“I… I think so.” His hands were freed in an instant. His wrists red from chafing as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

“So, you’re alive.” Arthur knelt by him with another knife, getting to work on the binds on his ankles.

“Allegedly.”

“Well, don’t worry. They won’t be for much longer.” Those words sparked that desire for revenge in Trelawny’s heart. Those bastards who broke into his home, kidnapped him, tortured him, and threatened his friends. He had no strength left but he had enough anger to help himself out of his own leg binding.

“Go get them, Arthur. I can handle this.”

Arthur met his eyes, and Trelawny took the second to drink in that familiar, gentle face. The man who was ruthless when necessary, but who had always been a kind – if a little sad – soul to Trelawny. Arthur seemed to be checking with Trelawny, to make sure he would sincerely be alright should he go off to stop the bounty hunters. In response, Trelawny waved his hand – urging Arthur onward. Not just for that desire of revenge either, should those bounty hunters escape they would escape with far too much information. They had to be dealt with accordingly.

In the next moment, Arthur had taken off to the fields. Gunshots rang out. Arthur and Charles will both be fine, he kept telling himself as he struggled to free his ankles. It would be easier if his hands weren’t having such trouble gripping things. Each movement made his body cry in pain, but at least… at least he was safe.

The rope around his ankles became slack after another moment of finicking. The gunshots were still echoing and Trelawny could only hope his friends were not on the receiving end.

Well, he couldn’t just wait here on the ground. In the dirt. His clothes were already filthy, his white shirt had blood stains on it, his beautiful vest simply torn to shreds. Lord only knew what his face looked like. His hair must be an utter mess. He would simply die of embarrassment should they return to him whining on the ground.

He tried to put a hand on the ground to push himself up to his feet, but his elbow buckled under his weight. Pain shot through the arm. His legs told him too we’re not standing. There was a chair on the patio of the small cabin, if he could just make it there he could take a seat like somewhat of a refined gentleman as opposed to a dirt dweller like he was now.

It took him longer than he’d like, and he had more crawled over the dirt than walked, but he found himself able to climb into the chair, letting himself finally take in a moment of peace despite the pain. Arthur is here. Charles is here. And because he had kept his mouth shut this time, he could look them in the face with dignity.

“Mr. Trelawny, where are you?”

He nearly felt the tears threaten again. That voice brought with it so much relief, he wasn’t sure he could ever explain to Arthur just how much it meant to him. Especially in that moment. And that was for no lack of intelligence on the other man’s part, Trelawny knew the man was quite prolific. Dutch and Hosea would have it no other way. “Over here, dear boy!”

“Put your feet up, why don’t you?” Arthur came into view on the hill, the words harsh and teasing but nothing that Trelawny would imagine taking offense to. And as Arthur approached, he could see his face soften and he could hear that kindness in his voice, “You okay?”

“Never finer.” Yes, this outlaw had probably just killed a small handful of other men. However, he had done it out of desire to protect his friends. And Trelawny was just glad that he was in that category. Trelawny tried to stand up, but pain brought him back into his chair.

“So, who was they?” The important question. Josiah couldn’t blame him for wanting to cut right to the chase. The man’s hand was gentle on his back, the other at his arm in quiet support.

“They were bounty hunters, ah, attached to Cole Stoudemire,” that was what they had told him at that camp long ago.

“Okay.”

“They weren’t looking for me, per se.”

“No…” Arthur quietly confirmed the unsaid part. They wanted you, Arthur. They wanted Dutch. “What you tell ‘em?”

Another important question. And one Josiah was glad he could answer with pride, “Not much. I… told them I was an intellectual come down here from Oregon…” He let Arthur steer him towards the horse, accepting his and Charles’ help to mount. He tried to grip the saddle, tried to pull himself up, but he knew he was fooling none of them: he had no energy, no strength left. “…looking for a job at the university. Course, they didn’t believe me. Seems you stirred up quite a hornet’s nest in Blackwater.”

“So I keep hearing.” Arthur backed slowly away from the horse, as though making sure that Trelawny could remain upright.

Josiah met his eyes once more, a little embarrassed by his own need to request yet even more from the gang. But it was how things had to be. “It might be best if I stay with you gentlemen for a while. Can’t go back to that caravan now.”

Not even a moment to think about it passed before Arthur nodded in agreement.

“Alright, Charles, you take Trelawny back to camp. I’ll catch up with you.”

“Okay.” And Charles moved his horse on, Trelawny following close behind. Their previous rides together had been full of Josiah’s stories, thoughts, and ideas. But this ride was different, it was quiet. Trelawny was lost in thought, energy spent with none to spare on a façade. And Charles’ silence was reassuring in its own right.

The bounty hunters had been dealt with. Josiah had been rescued. There would be time to worry about everything else, time to tell Dutch everything he had learned. Time to pay back the gang for saving his life. For now though, the hooves of the horses and the whistling of birds the only sound for miles, there was just time enough for peace.

#{rebloggable}#red dead redemption fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #josiah trelawny #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #{my writing}#((I might write a drabble after this when Trelawny gets back to camp with Charles))#((but this was just something I've wanted to write for a while so here #it goes right here for now haha))#((I'd also thread an rp based off of this too if anyone wants to rp! :D))

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avversiera-writes · 3 years

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try again; in every day we breathe life [tobirama senju/you] - chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Then

Summary: continuation of chapter 4, Tobirama finds out that your copulating sessions have been successful.

Word Count: ~4k

A/N: welp, here we gooo. almost done tbh. if you prefer to read on ao3, then go ahead since most of the chapters have been posted there.

available on AO3.

When Tobirama is determined, he is very tenacious. He does not let up until the results are up to his satisfaction. Which would probably explain why the moment he comes home, the two of you are rushing upstairs to make it to the bedroom to fuck and not on the stairs, or the hallways, or anywhere else where you could get caught in an embarrassing way. You’re probably already pregnant from the first time, but since there is no way of telling at the moment, Tobirama has taken it upon himself to make sure that the deed is done well and good. He comes home earlier than usual, despite the heavy work that has to be done for the peaceful treaty with Kumogakure, and then if he still has some work to do, he goes back to the office and leaves you satiated.

You can tell that Tobirama is excited, despite not showing it. When you tease him about it, he only says that it is part of his duty to bring a new generation of shinobis into the village, especially as the Hokage, but when you look away, you can feel his gaze on you and practically feel his wonder at the prospect of having children. Of course, the both of you have that duty to parent children, but you trust Tobirama to be a good father and a teacher, because he had a huge hand in fostering young children into good shinobis.

You can tell that there is also a lot on his mind, and he seems to be a bit worried about how he will be as a father. It is on the way his brows knit whenever you mention the small things you want your children to experience or whenever you see something on the street, like a toy or a nursery crib for sale.

You cannot get anything out of him though, so you can only guess for now.

Today is one of those slow days, so you take it upon yourself to look for Kimiko, so that the two of you can plan ahead for your pregnancy. You are still not sure what steps to take or whatever supplements you might have to take because you never bothered to take those things seriously. Now, you wish you had because you hate bothering people for help, even though it was offered to you.

You chuckle silently to yourself. You preach about things people ought to do, like asking for help, but sometimes you fail to do just that. However, this is something you are trying to change about yourself. You still have a lot of growing to do.

You head to the kitchen, accidentally startling the servants that are there.

You smile at them kindly, and take your time to inquire about them. You share a few laughs, and then, you ask if there is something you can do to help out, hoping that there really is something, but they refuse your help and reassure you that they can take care of everything. Not being able to say anything else, you leave them be and you go on for your search for Kimiko.

Finally, you find her outside, hanging up bedsheets on the clothesline.

“Kimiko-san!” You call with relief. You jump over the steps leading to the ground and jog to her.

Kimiko stares at you worriedly. “My lady, you must not hurry like that. You could get hurt.”

You shrug, and you help her spread the next sheet over the clothesline. You give her a small smile. “My husband says the same thing.”

Kimiko chuckles as she places a pin over the blanket. “He is very protective of you.”

“Too much, at times,” you giggle and you hand Kimiko another clothespin.

“He means well,” Kimiko replies and the two of you finish the rest of the laundry in silence.

After hanging all the laundry, Kimiko leads you towards the dining room and asks you to wait there. You look towards the wall, where you and the other servants have hung some tapestries that Tobirama had received as gifts for becoming the Hokage, and to the painting of a snow mountain range on the wall. The house is minimal and almost spartan, but it is comfortable and pleasing to look at. You want the decorations to be practical, and because at times you couldn’t make yourself care about such things, you decided to make do with the collections of arts that Tobirama and the other Senju clan members have curated and given to your household.

Some are kept in storage as you have no idea where to place them. There are rooms in the house that remain empty, but you know that your husband may need those spaces for his growing library and his multiple journals, or his unfinished inventions that may never see the light of the day and your combined weapons.

And the rest of the rooms upstairs can be the rooms for your future children.

You smile at the thought and tuck that inside your mind for later entertaining.

You light the incense burner propped on a stand and then you go back to your seat, feeling a bit restless. You wish you could put your extra energy into training or being a shinobi, but those days are over. If you decide to defy your husband and continue to take missions, the people of Konoha may talk, and you do not want them to speak ill of your husband. They already concern themselves with your reproductive capabilities. They cannot be privy to any of your marital matters.

You sigh tiredly, but Kimiko walks in and you immediately compose yourself and shoot her a smile.

“Let’s begin!” You say excitedly.

Kimiko lays out several herbs and medicines on the table, some in vials or jars, and you are drawn to the colors, like a little kid. She sits down in front of you and gives you an amused smile and you give her your full attention, like you assume how good students do.

“Do you know whether you’re pregnant yet?” Kimiko inquires.

You shrug, and give her a meek smile. “No. I am assuming that I will have to wait and see next month.”

Kimiko sits down in front of you, unsure of how to react. “Well, do you feel any different? Do you feel nauseous? More tired than usual? Light-headed?”

“No,” you think back and reflect on this hectic month, but you come up with nothing. “I don’t have any problems with fertility, do I?” You feel some dread creeping up your throat. The thought of it almost brings tears to your eyes and you’re not much of a crier.

“No, my lady,” Kimiko immediately reassures. “Sometimes it takes a while. It’s different for women, not all experiences are the same across the board.” She smiles and reaches for your hand. “Besides, it’s a bit too early to tell. I was just asking because I don’t know how long you two have been, well, you know.”

You blush and stare at her, dumbfounded. “Oh.”

“Do not worry too much,” Kimiko squeezes your hand. “Besides, that is not good for you. You don’t want your body to be stressed.”

You nod and then gesture at the small apothecary that she brought with her. “So where do we start?”

“Well, since you are not pregnant yet, we’re just going to make sure that you’re eating healthy and that you’re taking care of yourself,” Kimiko says. “You need to take some supplements, and I can prepare those with every meal you have.”

“What kind?”

“Like, when you’re pregnant, sometimes a woman’s body will be depleted of iron, so you’ll have to take more of that. You’ll need to eat lots of vegetables too, to get your source of vitamins. Ginger tea as well.”

“For?”

“Morning sickness, and the like.”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you tell her, but you have already noted down the important details in your mind. “It sounds like a lot.”

Kimiko nods. “You need not to worry, my lady. It will be part of your daily routine, and I will help you.”

Kimiko begins to point out the herbs and the tea leaves, and some of the medicines that she brought with her, and you do your best to follow. You memorize the vials for treating certain symptoms that do not sound all good to you, and the jars with the ginger roots and the honey citrus tea, and other pleasant smelling green leaves that she presented.

Then, she tells you all about what to expect in the coming months. They do not sound delightful, especially when she tells you about the swollen legs and your muscles loosening and the gaining of weight or the crazy cravings, but then she tells you about what to look forward to, such as the first kick of your baby, and that you can even talk to them while inside your womb.

“Do you have any questions?” Kimiko asks as she notices that you have grown quiet.

You shake your head. “No, not really. I’m just…”

“Overwhelmed?” Kimiko supplies a gentle smile.

You chuckle. “Yes. A little. I’m scared and excited.”

The doors of the dining room slides open, and they reveal your husband, dressed in his training clothes, the blue wrap-around shirt and trousers and his mesh under armour, and the green sash tied across his waist. Sweat covers his neck and his chest, and you observe his collarbones, finding yourself pressing your lips together.

“Rough day?” You ask with a sly smile.

Kimiko clears her throat and she starts to gather the things from the table. The servants of the house are probably tired of the two of you flirting and fucking around.

“Are those opiates?” Tobirama inquires, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. He glances at you with a raised eyebrow. “Is she alright?”

Kimiko lets out a strained laugh, and you take note the way her voice changed. “Ah, my lord. Those are for pain-numbing concoctions. They can be used in small doses, and should your wife need it for the pain that comes with giving birth…”

Tobirama nods. “I see.” His forehead wrinkles. “I need to talk to my wife.”

You roll your eyes at Tobirama’s abruptness and you jump up to your feet. You quickly walk up to him and push him out of the dining room, and usher him towards the hallway that leads to upstairs.

“You are so rude,” you scold playfully. You bump your shoulder against his arm. “I forgot to ask her how I can find out if I’m pregnant. I’m sure there's, like, some mystical way of doing it. Like tracing the stars on the skies, or like, a lunar eclipse.”

Tobirama crosses his arms and he rolls his eyes. “Just take some wheat or barley seeds and proceed to urinate on it. If it grows, then you are pregnant. If not, then, we’d have to keep trying.”

Your jaw drops open. The idea of it is embarrassing to even think about doing.

Tobirama glances at you indifferently. “I have many nephews. The Senjus did this to confirm pregnancies. Barley for boys, wheat for girls.”

“You’re joking, right?”

Tobirama raises his eyebrows and stares at you pointedly. You are not sure whether he is kidding or not, and it makes you a little peeved.

“Why would I?” Tobirama asks in a tone that makes you think otherwise.

“The Senju and their plants,” you roll your eyes and let out a small sigh.

Tobirama shrugs, and you press your hand against his chest, and you push him towards the wall.

“What are you doing?” Tobirama suddenly looks alarmed.

“A service.”

“I beg to differ,” Tobirama looks offended. A harsh, red blush begins to creep up his neck and his ears.

You pull him against yourself using the sash around his waist.

“Our Hokage’s been hard at work,” you whisper on his lips. “It’s only right that I reward him for it.”

Tobirama leans his head away, but there is nowhere for him to go.

You stand on your tiptoes, and you lean forward to catch his lips. Tobirama stops, and when you pull away, he looks at you, bewildered and suddenly speechless.

“What?” You ask. “What were you thinking?” You give him a cheeky grin.

Tobirama’s face pinks and his hands grasp the sides of your arms. “Nothing.”

“Hm-hm. That’s what I thought.”

Tobirama’s jaw tenses, and you cannot help but smile wider.

“You do this on purpose.”

“Whatever do you mean, Lord Nidaime?” You feign innocence. You lean closer to his face. “What did you want to talk with me about?”

Tobirama stares at you, at a loss.

“I’m listening–”

Tobirama seals your lips with a kiss, so quick that it does not register to you that your back has hit your bed. The seal that Tobirama plasted on the bed recently does have its perks.

“Let’s use that bratty mouth of yours to good use, shall we?” Tobirama growls into your ear, and your breath catches in your throat.

Tobirama slips two fingers into your mouth, the pads of his fingers brushing against the roof of your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and you begin to suck at it, and Tobirama’s eyes narrow with lust.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

Sweaty and panting, you and your Senju husband lie side by side on the bed. Your body is still trembling from the ecstasy of being filled over and over again by Tobirama’s seed, and each touch and movement makes your shudder and moan. Tears stream down the side of your eyes, and you are sure that you have drooled yourself, but none of that registers yet. Your mind is still frayed, and you remember the sensation of Tobirama’s cock pulsating in your mouth, the way his aroused flesh just feels so rubbery and slick, and the way it throbbed and hardened inside you until he had emptied his load in you.

You touch your tongue to your lips, and you close your eyes, still seeing stars.

You feel his rough hand on your waist, and you whimper, unable to bear any slight movement at the moment. Tobirama gathers you into his arms and you tense up. It takes a moment, but finally, you relax and melt into him.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” Tobirama states.

“Hm,” you say, or what you think you have said.

You share another moment of silence with each other, and you are content to listen to his racing heartbeat, which you have familiarized yourself with. You know every inflection and startle of his heart, and whether they mean he is calm or stressed.

Finally, your bones have settled into a pleasant feeling of fatigue, and you turn to your husband slightly.

“Something on your mind?”

Tobirama takes a minute to answer you. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“The peace negotiations with Kumo are successful. We will have the peace ceremony in six months.”

“That is good,” you comment, your eyes flitting close.

“I hope so,” Tobirama says. “I will have to go.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’d rather you stay here, knowing that you will be safe,” Tobirama answers. “Besides, if all things go well, you’ll be pregnant, and the trip to Kumo will not be suitable for your health.”

“All right,” you acquiesce.

“That easy?”

“You know best.”

“I thought it’d be hard to convince you.”

You roll your eyes. “Believe it or not, I actually do listen to you.”

Tobirama lets out a low, amused chuckle. “I see.”

“You laughed,” you yawn.

“I beg to differ.”

“Chuckled,” you dreamily correct. “I’ll pull more laughs from you, Senju. Mark my words.”

Tobirama brushes your hair from your face and plants a kiss behind your ear. “I am counting on them.”

A new month begins, and you anticipate for the week of your menstruation. You find yourself alone again, as these days Tobirama does not want you to concern yourself with any of his Hokage duties. He has been mostly focused with Kumogakure, and while you want to do everything in your power to help him, you know that this is something that he may have to do alone, as he is the best in delegating. Inserting yourself into his manifested but fragile chaos may not let him give his full attention to it. Besides, this is the first outside project that Tobirama has taken on as the Second Hokage. The best you can do for now is to support him.

In your alone time, you pick up on reading again, whether they are about parenthood that Tobirama brought into the house at one point, or books of poems and fiction that he had curated over the years.

And in that alone time, you ponder the idea of what Tobirama had told you a while ago.

If it does not work, then I’ll have a good laugh, you tell yourself as you go into the kitchen.

You rummage through the kitchen, being careful not to make any noise so that no one will come to hear your lame excuse of being here. Finally, you get your hands on wheat and barley seeds and a humongous amount of snacks because you are hungry and these snacks look delicious, and just thinking about how its flavors make you look forward to eating them.

You feel silly just holding on to these seeds, but you make it quick by stuffing a pot with soil, planting the seeds there and doing the rest in your bathroom. Then, you hide the pot in the inner garden downstairs, and you stay the rest of the day in your room, eating and studying.

Time goes by so slowly when you are not doing much, and pretty soon, you find your eyes growing heavy, and before you know it, you are sleeping in the comfort of your bed.

When you open your eyes, it is nighttime, and your husband is peering at you with concern or maybe disapproval because you remember leaving some snacks on the bed. He touches your forehead and his cool palm makes you flip your eyes close.

“The servants tell me you have not come down to eat lunch and dinner,” Tobirama states. “Are you unwell?”

You yawn and stretch, and you blink blearily at him. “No?” It takes a moment for his words to register. “Wait, I missed dinner?”

“It is almost midnight,” Tobirama replies.

“Oh,” you deadpan.

Tobirama sighs. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

“Did you just come home now?” You ask as you follow him down to the dining room.

“I got held up at work,” Tobirama replies vaguely. He makes sure that you are seated on the table and he disappears into the kitchen for a while.

When he arrives, he brings a whole entree of food with him: the rice, soup with vegetables and meat, steamed sweet potatoes, fish and a few side dishes to go with it.

Tobirama silently sets up your plate and utensils, and you thank him and begin to eat the rest of the food in silence. When the rice has run out, Tobirama stands up to get more without saying anything, only choosing to comment about making sure to slow down and chew through your food. You shrug at him, still hungry despite devouring the last of the sweet potatoes.

Tobirama narrows his eyes, but he keeps mum for the rest of the night, and leaves you to your own thoughts.

You peek from the threshold of Tobirama’s study. Your husband of almost three years is hard at work as always, with his jutsu inventing or just general Konoha policy work. You observe him for a moment, and you can’t help cracking a smile at the way his eyebrows knit together the deeper his concentration gets. His lips press together in a tight line, but you sense no bad tension from him. Right now, he is currently reading one of his notes–probably from one of his current experiments–and then transcribing it on another blank paper.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Tobirama finally asks and he puts down his pen.

You walk into his study and towards him. You gingerly take his face with both of your hands, and you study him. Your thumbs come up to caress his cheeks and then, you plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

“You look tired,” you comment. “You should get some sleep.”

“I need to finish this,” Tobirama replies, but whatever focus he has woven before you came, it is now gone and replaced by the tender attentiveness he offers to only you.

“Is it urgent?” You murmur. You bring a hand to his forehead and brush his hair up to reveal his pale forehead. “Can I help?” You kiss his forehead again, and then his lips.

A smile flits through Tobirama’s face but it is gone before you can even process it.

“It is urgent, but it requires about nine months of waiting,” Tobirama replies, and he places his hands on your waist. It seems like he is willing to be more affectionate these days. “Go rest.”

You roll your eyes. “I have been resting a lot these days, Lord Nidaime. Why do you keep making me rest, hm? I’ve had ample rest time.”

Tobirama looks down at your stomach, and then at you. He does not speak, and he squeezes one side of your waist reassuringly. His face softens as an affirmation takes place on his face.

“Do you know why?” Tobirama murmurs.

“No,” you start. “I thought you were just being your neurotypical, paranoid self.”

Tobirama sighs. “How are your meals? Do you find them agreeable? Do you tire easily?”

You stare at Tobirama as if he had grown another head, but you know that if you do not answer, he will keep pressing you. “My meals are fine, and agreeable. I find it impossible to get tired these days since you keep micromanaging my sleep.”

Your answers bring relief to Tobirama and you stare at him, confused. “Is there something that I should know?”

Tobirama takes both of your hands, and holds onto them tightly. “It feels strange that I am the one breaking the news of your pregnancy for you.”

Your mouth drops in shock, and the two of you stare at each other, one in disbelief, and the other smug.

“H-How?!” You stammer.

“I sensed a disturbance in your chakra, and...I realized that it has the same signature as mine. Yours flare stronger than usual, too.”

“Since when?”

“I confirmed it just now. Besides, it was just a theory.”

“Dammit, Tobirama,” you reply, more out of habit, but you are not exasperated with him.

Tobirama presses a kiss into your palms, and then your wrists. Warmth travels through your chest, and when you find your husband’s eyes, it is easily perceptible that he shares the same feelings as you.

“Now, go rest,” Tobirama orders, but the softness in his voice is so palpable, you are reeling from it.

You roll your eyes, and start to exit the study. You hear the shuffling of papers behind you, and you feel relief in your heart that he is not pushing himself as much.

Tobirama suddenly calls your name and you turn to him, expectant.

You watch as he takes a few seconds to steel himself. He is looking down at his hands, which are slightly trembling and he starts to pick at the corner of papers he stacked himself.

“Thank you, for making me a father,” Tobirama finally looks at you, and his voice is unexpectedly soft. The usual hardness in his tone is gone, replaced by this man, that is all soft tight-lipped smiles towards you. He is without the cold exterior that you experience from time to time.

This is Senju Tobirama, the man that you have always seen in him. Here in front of you, he is not the Nidaime Hokage, not the fastest shinobi in this generation, not the hailed politician nor his brother’s keeper.

He is just your husband right, here. Now.

“I know I impose on you a lot, but I also hope that you can depend on me some more. I am your husband,” Tobirama quietly says, his eyes set towards the ground. “I cannot promise that I will be a good father, but I must try. My own child cannot experience the cruelty I grew up with.”

“I know you will,” you tell him, and you give him a grin. “I know that you will protect them and fight for them, and that is what a good father does.”

Tobirama meets your gaze, and he nods. “Go. I will meet you in the bedroom in a moment.”

You smile, and you almost break out into a run, but Tobirama quickly reprimands you.

“Walk, do not run,” you hear him say from his study.

You walk, but you hurry towards the inner garden where you hid the pot of wheat and barley seeds. You pull it out from its hiding place, and you stare at it, joy bubbling deep inside your chest.

Tears prickle your eyes, and you blink them away.

The wheat has begun to grow, and you let out a breath that you have been holding.

You are with a child, and the realization makes you want to jump from excitement. You laugh to yourself, and decide to tell Tobirama your findings later, when the pregnancy is well on its way.

To be continued...

Chapter 6 - Now >>

#Tobirama Senju #Senju Tobirama #tobirama x you #tobirama x reader #naruto fanfiction #angelica writes #you never said goodbye timeline/au #'til death do us part

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shutupandshipit · 3 years

Text

Sharpen Your Blades - Ch.11

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

…..

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T

Chapter: 11/20

Previously <- Chapter 10: Alpha Wanted

Chapter 12: Parents and questions they shouldn’t ask -> Next

Author’s Notes: So, there's songs in this chapter! Yay! They are Never Enough by Loren Allred and Tightrope by Michelle Williams (don't @ me about them being from the Greatest Showman, I know it's trending, these songs just fit them so well). You'll notice that there are also two links, and those are to figure skating videos that are the closest to how I imagine the programs to be. If you mute the video and play the song over it, they match up pretty well. I had a really easy time finding one I liked for Izuku, but a much harder time finding an example for Katsuki. I really like Yuna Kim as a model for Izuku and Yuzuru Hanyu as a model for Katsuki, but Yuzuru's style just didn't fit what I was trying to portray in this chapter. That's okay though! Of course, I don't own the videos. They belong to their original posters and creators. Let me know if the links don't work, and I'll find a different way to share them. I hope you guys like the chapter. I had a really fun time writing it, and I can't wait to post for next week!

Chapter 11: Solo

Izuku stepped onto the ice for the first time since his injury. Terror washed through him. His heart raced in his chest. His hands shook violently. His breath quickened. He clutched at the wall to keep himself steady. A fear weighed heavy on him, fear that as soon as he let go his hip or ankle or knee would simply give out. That the break that had healed months ago would suddenly shatter apart again.

Just because he knew it was an irrational fear didn't mean he knew how to fight against it.

“Just take it slow, young Midoriya, there's no need to rush. You've been doing strength training for a few months now, but being back on the ice is a different kind of taxing,” Toshinori said close by, hands stacked on his hips while he watched Izuku all but cowering against the wall.

“I'm not getting tired. Nothing hurts yet, I'm just...” He trailed off, unwilling to admit his fear.

“Scared? I understand. That's a normal reaction after an injury as severe as yours was. I was scared too the first time I got back on the ice after my injury, but it will get easier. Like I said, take it slow. Soon enough, you'll be sprinting and jumping just like you used to, but we've got to start small first.”

“Right,” Izuku whispered, squeezing his eyes closed. They remained there for long moments, and it was only when the scent of sweet spices assaulted his nose that he was able to open his eyes again.

He found Katsuki's familiar red eyes watching him. Katsuki who's hair was pushed away from his forehead with sweat and seemed to be in the middle of a training exercise with Mr. Aizawa. Katsuki who's scent of excitement was beginning to make the rink smell startlingly like snickerdoodles.

Izuku had forgotten what Katsuki's scent smelled like when he was excited, and it made his mouth water.

Embarrassed, he ripped his eyes away. Once upon a time, he had been the reason for that smell. He was desperately jealous of whoever or whatever had provoked such a reaction in his old friend. Whatever it was though, it had nothing to do with a useless deku like him. Maybe one day very far away, he could be the reason again, but he had a long way and a lot of work before then.

Swallowing, he struggled to stand up straight and push carefully along the wall. With each step and each second of feeling Katsuki's eye on him, he felt his confidence slowly inflate.

.....

November Week 2

Izuku stared down at his phone, mouth turned down in a frown as he waited impatiently for Katsuki to respond, but the little icon telling him that his partner had even seen the message remained blank. It was strange to say the least. Katsuki was the most punctual creature he knew and had ever known. The only time he'd ever skipped class or been late for something were times when his rut had hit suddenly or he'd been uncharacteristically sick. To put it simply, Izuku could count on one hand how many times Katsuki had missed something.

He was only holding up three fingers.

"Let's just go, Deku, I don't think he's going to come tonight," Uraraka suggested, still sitting in the same place on the bleachers that she'd been sitting since she and Kaminari had followed him from his apartment. Team practice had been early that morning instead of later, and the pair of omegas had made the unanimous decision to have an omegas' day. So far, they'd had lunch where the pair had pointed out every marginally attractive alpha to cross their paths, gotten mani-pedis, gone window shopping for potential Christmas presents, looked at venues for the team Christmas party, and gone into a sex store specifically catoring to omegas with a wide range of heat aids. Kaminari had been adamant about going in when they passed by, and after more than a little prodding from both of his friends, Izuku had agreed.

Now, a black bag was tucked away in his gym bag with an item that made him both hot around the collar and simultaneously hot between the legs. The item excited him, but he was loathe to admit that to either of them. He'd only ever had a few encounters of the sexual nature, and those hadn't been very good. Other than that, he really didn't think much about his pleasure. He didn't even really masturbate which had seemed to send the omegas into a frenzy. There had been so many noises of astonishment and disbelief from both Kaminari and Uraraka that he'd hid in the lingerie racks for the better part of a half hour until they'd coaxed him out with the promise of ice cream and figure skater themed lingerie sets.

He hadn't thought his lack of sexual appetite was all that strange. He'd been on suppressants for years. Katsuki had been the focus of all his attention since they'd been kids. He'd always just been more focused on figure skating. He wasn't the only one in the world who felt the same. The asexual spectrum existed for a reason, and he was a staunch believer that he was of that spectrum.

Uraraka and Kaminari had followed him back to the rink, fully intending to drag him away after for a sleepover and movie night.

"Yeah, man, let's just go. What's the point of waiting around any longer? We're just wasting time at this point," Kaminari piped up, head hanging back between his shoulders as he leaned against the wall. "This is just typical Bakugou. He doesn't really consider other people's feelings, you know?"

The comment set Izuku's teeth on edge, and with effort, he unclenched his jaw.

Izuku wasn't particularly annoyed. He loved his friends and loved the sense of community that being with the other omegas gave him, but he wished they would just stop talking. He tried very hard to remind himself that no one had known Katsuki as long as he had, and for a good portion of the time they had known him, Katsuki had hiding behind a mask.

Releasing a quiet sigh, Izuku smiled and said, "He'll be here. He just must have gotten tied up with something with his class. He'll be here."

Uraraka smiled, but he could tell that she wanted to sigh. Maybe she even wanted to roll her eyes. "Will you skate for us while we wait then? If he doesn't get here in time, at least you'll have had a chance to practice. You don't have to skate your program, but maybe something else?"

For a moment, Izuku just considered her idea. He smiled. "Sure. That sounds good." Connecting his phone to the speaker that Toshinori left in the rink for them to use on their off time, Izuku quickly found the song he wanted.

.....

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Katsuki hissed as he tore across the street, flipping off a car as they slammed on their brakes and subsequently on their horn. He couldn't stop though. He was fucking late. Really, really fucking late! He hated being late, always had and always would. Being late for his nightly practice with Izuku just pissed him off all the more. The worst part of it all was that his phone had died sometime during the day so he didn't even have a way of letting his partner know that he'd be late.

The situation had been unavoidable though, and Katsuki swallowed passed the thick lump in his throat.

Two of his students had gotten hurt, and memory of the blood splattered ice made bile rise in the back of his throat. He had turned his back for a single second to correct the form of the new five-year-old he'd taken on. Just a moment had been all they needed. Two of his students had tried the same lift Katsuki had tried with Mina off ice, and just like her, their foot had slipped. The blade had sliced deep into their would be partner's thigh and started gushing blood before either of them had really realized what had happened. There had been an ambulance and paperwork and worried parents and Katsuki trying to keep his head on straight in the mayhem. Now, the adrenaline was wearing off, and he could feel himself crashing. Crashing hard.

There was only blood and ice and screaming and green curls and pain twisting Izuku's face and pain twisting Katsuki's chest. He was having a hard time separating the two memories, and while he knew that was dangerous, he didn't know how to stop it.

So, he ran. Ran to catch Izuku before he left the rink, and ran to stave off the no doubt mount panic attack.

Out of the corner of his eye as he passed a store front, he caught the flash of forest green fabric. Screeching to a stop, he backtracked to the window. Someone had dressed mannequins in winter wear. It was clear that each had a theme and that each set of clothing had been handmade. One wore all pink. One wore woodland colors with a bright orange fox-eared beanie. Another was dressed from head to toe in sparkly purple fabric. The one that had caught his attention was the most subdued with the beanie as the only spot of color.

The beanie was forest green like the gloves he'd bought for Izuku. Floppy white lined bunny ears lay across the mannequin’s forehead with little tassels that hung on either side of the mannequin's cheeks. Minutes ticked by as Katsuki kept staring, imagining green locks poking out from beneath the edge as he tugged on the tassels to pull a smile from its wearer. Green eyes going wide as he handed it over, actually presenting his omega with a gift face to face. A whispered, "Thank you," as round freckled cheeks reddened-

"Evening, young man."

If Katsuki could have literally jumped out of his skin, he would have. Jerking his head towards the voice, he stared at the old man that stood in the doorway of the shop. He hadn't noticed, but unlike a lot of shops in the city, this one seemed to be part of a small home. The wood around the window was weathered and old with peeling robin's egg blue paint. Swallowing, Katsuki tried to find his words. If he'd just been staring into this man's home, it was no wonder he'd come out to find out what Katsuki's doing. "Evening, old man," he finally replied gruffly.

A smile cracked across the old man's ancient face, and he leaned out to see into the front window. "My wife's work. She knits all year long with the best yarn she can find so that alphas like yourself can gift something special to their omegas. Or betas, of course. Times are changing. It's more common to see alphas or omegas marrying betas or even their same dynamic. I think that's lovely." His smile only grew as Katsuki blinked at him nonplussed. "Sorry, I tend to ramble. My wife says it's a problem, but I don't think so. Did you have a special someone in mind? Would you like to take a closer look?"

"I'm... late... to meet... with the omega I'm courting," he said haltingly, unable to resist the other alpha's probing. That happened sometimes with the older alphas. It felt like a sense of community to him, one he resisted, but appreciated when he actually took their unsolicited advice.

"You're only getting more late, but this young omega might like a gift in return. It's not an apology, but it could be the start of one."

"I-"

"If you didn't want to take a closer look, you would have already walked away. You don't have to buy anything, but you could keep it in mind."

Sound logic, and with a sigh, Katsuki nodded. Only a few minutes later he had bought the beanie, and a few minutes after being gushed over by the old man's old omega wife, he was sprinting even faster than before. He felt lighter with the beanie clutched in his hand though, and the only thing in his chest was the anticipation of handing the gift over to Izuku.

It felt like there had been a lot of helping hands in his courting of Izuku, but it also felt like he'd been squandering the chances. With any luck, this would push the scales back in his favor. He hadn't heard anything else about the date Izuku had gone on, and sadistically, he hoped it hadn't gone well for the alpha.

When Katsuki finally shoved into the rink, he let out an explosive sigh of relief. Music played through the rink, and he seemed to have come in right at the crescendo. Not only that, but he immediately recognized the song.

' All the shine of a thousand spotlights/all the stars we steal from the night sky/will never be enough- '

Slowly, Katsuki stepped out enough for him to fully see the rink.

There was Izuku, occupying the whole rink with his presence if not his body. Whenever Izuku skated -really skated, not what he did in practice- it was impossible to look away from him. And in that moment, it was even more so.

Out on the ice, Izuku moved more elegantly than ever. There was no wobble in his stance, no hesitation in his jumps. There was a languidness to his movements that made something deep in Katsuki's chest ache to join him. And then he saw the look on Izuku's face.

He clutched the beanie even more tightly. "Why does he look so sad?" he whispered to himself.

He nearly jumped out of his skin for the second time that night when he heard Uraraka speak up from beside him. He hadn't seen her or Kaminari on the bench, too absorbed in his partner.

"I think you know, Bakugou. It might not be obvious to him, but you and I aren't dense."

On the ice, Izuku lifted his open palms toward the ceiling, staring up at them longingly. ' Towers of gold are still too little/these hands could hold the world but it'll/never be enough/never be enough- '

He watched Izuku until the end of the song before going to take the seat between Kaminari and Izuku's bag. As discreetly as possible, trying to make it look like he was getting into his own bag, he carefully slid the beanie into Izuku's bag.

Then he went to grab for his skates. An image flashed passed his eyes. Crimson blood on stark white ice. Fear and pain in forest green eyes. Tears on freckled cheeks. A young girl’s hand clutched in his as he used his pheromones to calm her.

"Kacchan, you made it!"

Sucking in a sharp breath and doing his best to calm the sharp rise and fall of his chest, he glanced at Izuku leaning over the wall. The omega's cheeks were flushed, pushed up high on his face from the force of his smile.

"I was worried you weren't going to."

There was a subtle undertone to his words, something that went along with the song that was now repeating through the speakers. Katsuki swallowed, and squeezed his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. He couldn't practice with Izuku tonight, couldn't touch him, not in his state. He'd fuck up. Make a mistake. Get them both hurt. He shouldn’t have come.

He pulled his hands away from his bag. "Had an emergency during lessons. One of my students got hurt. Phone died." His sentences were clipped, short, just fragments that lacked any of his usual harsh tone.

"Did you see my program? It's what I had been planning for this year before Mr. Aizawa's announcement."

"Most of it. Missed the first part."

Izuku's smile never faded, but it softened marginally. He pushed away towards the rink entrance, and slid on his guards before moving over to Katsuki to crouch in front of him.

"Do you want to talk about your student? Were they seriously injured?"

Katsuki felt his mouth begin to twitch into a sneer. He forced it down, ignoring the feeling of two extra pairs of eyes on them. This moment felt private, and he wished they were alone so he could just open his mouth and spill his guts. Instead, he just said, "No."

Still, izuku smiled. He didn't stand as he asked, "Will you skate for my blog? My readers are always asking for more videos of you. I'll stay on this side and just record. Can't trust these two to get the proper shots."

Katsuki hadn't known Izuku had talked about him on his blog, and the knowledge made his alpha purr contentedly. The meaning behind Izuku's words took a moment longer to hit. He was offering him an easy way out. Time on the ice alone and an excuse to not be on the ice together for the night. He didn't know if Izuku was doing it on purpose or simply just wanted to let him skate, but the thought sent a ripple of affection through him.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he finally said, yanking his skates from his bag.

…..

Izuku could tell that something was wrong, and he could tell it had something to do with the student that had gotten hurt. He didn't know exactly what was wrong, what was going on inside that blonde head. If he could have opened up Katsuku's brain and climbed in, he would have done it when they were twelve. No, younger. When they'd first met.

But he couldn't. They're relationship was only just getting better, and he didn't think he was allowed to or should push for a more complete answer.

The ice was the only thing he could offer. Still, he was surprised that Katsuki had so easily taken it, but he was thankful that he had.

Standing on the side of the rink while Katsuki queued up the music and pushed out to middle ice, Izuku felt himself grow giddy with anticipation. While he was desperate to feel Katsuki holding him close like he always did while they skated, he'd been waiting for a long time to get a video of Katsuki that wasn't a competition video.

He was almost vibrating as the first cords of the music played through the rink. When the singing began, he sucked in a breath.

' Some people long for a life that is simple and planned/tied with a ribbon/some people won't sail the sea cause they're safer on land/to follow what's written/but I'd follow you to the great unknown- '

' Please, let me not be imagining this ,' Izuku silently prayed every time Katsuki's eyes met his across the ice.

Katsuki's programs were usually sharp and energized and to the point. He was beautiful and skillful when he skated, but he'd never been one for delicacy. Katsuki was almost savage when he skated, and Izuku loved that about him.

Now though, Katsuki was skating like he was dancing ballet, all strong purposeful movements. All flourishing hand placements and arm sweeps.

And the look on his face was one of painful longing. ' So I risk it all just to be with you/And I risk it all for this life we choose- '

Behind Izuku, his attention was drawn to his friends as they whispered.

"Is it weird that they chose songs from the same movie?" Kaminari asked, voice just above a whisper.

Uraraka snorted. "I think it's weirder that Bakugou has watched The Greatest Showman more than anything else."

Izuku allowed for just a bare second to glance over his shoulder at them. "Shh," he hissed before swiveling back. He fell back into the skating without trouble, but something in the back of his brain wanted to tell his friends to leave. This program felt far too personal for them to be watching. Not only that, but Izuku almost wanted to be the only one to ever have seen it. He wanted to have this part of Katsuki all to himself even if he knew he'd never be allowed such a thing.

When Katsuki glided over, cheeks glowing and eyes looking more grounded than they had before, he asked, "Is that what you were hoping for?"

Staring Katsuki straight in the eye, he whispered, "More. Far more."

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #decchan #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #omega!izuku #alpha!katsuki #figure skater au #no quirks au #my writing #sharpen your blades

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