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reilliane · 2 years

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Majesty ⊱⊰ Kazuha

A/N: I can't help but feel that there's an abundance of Kazuha fics in my releases lately... w-well, this is the third to the last for now HKHDJKAHDJAH I mean, it's GAA! And TyRanNY.

✤ Strolling in the mirage of Fischl, the samurai notices that the castle and its inhabitants aren't what they seem. Is he even in Immernachtreich, still?

✤ In other words, Kazuha crossing to a different universe entirely lmao, oh boy, he is not prepared.

Words: 2.8k

Immernachtreich's resplendency feels like it has come out of a fairytale. This is true, but stepping foot into it is a tale of its own.

Certainly, they've to commend the wonders of Fischl's imagination; for the poiesis of such august cadres is far from being an easy doing.

It is a world of its own, that much is true again.

If not for the objective at present, which is to search for the succeeding volumes of 'Hymn of the Holy Land' and complete the narrative, the samurai would've succumbed to his wanderlust.

To gallivant is in his nature, and in a place so unrealistically majestic, adventure calls out to him like the sea does to a sailor.

Unfortunately, there are things to prioritize, so he'd have to push down the desire to wander about the mirage.

He tries to pay no mind to the violet banners and gilded streamers as well as the otherworldly view beyond the balconies.

A difficult task, but he perseveres.

Though he must've forgotten that these mirages exist to be receptive to the works of the subconscious—or perhaps he hasn't forgotten at all. And simply thought that this enchanted place—which isn't his—does not listen to the mind of someone who isn't the mirage's owner.

One minute, he is following the group. Then a mere second later, after conveying the password to rescind the cerulean barrier and passing through it—he is alone.

The hall he has entered is entirely different. No longer are the floors of stone, but are now of plaster, perhaps even marble. Flags of rich heliotropes have been exchanged for the blackness of inks, whilst retaining the gilded accent.

A lack of abnormal architectures in need of repositioning in the form of puzzles is evident and everything appears as normal as it can possibly be.

Immediately, he grows alarmed. Where am I?

The disbelief kicks in twofold when he ambles about the area and comes upon humans, not sentient statues of ravenfolk. It grows when they—they look to be servants, a plenty bunch—bow as he passes by.

But, this is all washed away by awe when he halts by a balcony and sees the stretch of land beyond the horizon.

Mountains overlaid with clouds, silhouettes of faraway kingdoms, and blues of crystalline waters are there to be gazed at. And he does so with a hitching breath.

This is not the mirage. Is his first thought.

Wherever this may be, or if this is a separate mirage entirely.. then it is a work of art. Is his second.

Still enraptured by the sight that is most certainly not offered by Teyvat, he steps more into the space of the balcony, worries momentarily forgotten.

Ah, what a pretty landscape does.

But then the wind whispers in his ears, an arrival of a person in search of him, so he turns and raises his guard. For if he truly is separated from the group and Immernachtreich itself, then it's best that he remains vigilant.

He hears the rushing of footsteps and his limbs start to lower themselves into a stance-

But the voice that rings out is not that of a foe, but of a familiar friend.

“Sir Kazuha!”

“Xingqiu.” he greets, albeit his tone is skeptical.

One cannot be incorrect, the man standing before him is Xingqiu... but for some reason, he looks older than the last time he saw him...

His hair is longer and tied up in a ponytail, his posture is sharper and even his gait is more polished. A refined sight.

But the Irodori festival wasn't that long ago, wasn't it? How odd.

Not to mention, how he had been addressed as 'sir'. With this small sample, can he then assume that this place harbors the same people he know? Only of a different time?

It does not seem far-fetched. The only question that lingers now... where exactly is he?

“Her Majesty's looking for you, it's past her usual teatime!”

He blinks at the mention of a royal. Perhaps he's still in Immernachtreich after all? And there was simply a moment of... corporeality—and his friend had ascended the hierarchy from Princess to Queen.

With this presumption, his answer comes without delay.

“Her Majesty?” he blinks before reiterating, “Fischl?”

He decided not to refer to her by her real name in consideration that she goes by her second one. It's done out of concern, so he's taken aback when the visage of his friend morphs into nothing but dreadfulness.

The stare on him seems as if he's being judged over his lack of sagacity.

“Fish?” echoes Xingqiu, face pale, “What are you saying-!? If someone overhears your insult-!”

Kazuha is taken aback. Insult?

Has he mispronounced- ah, maybe she does go by Amy now?

He's a little befuddled and is just about to rectify his honest mistake when Xingqiu begins waving his hands about, obviously frantic.

It's a sight to see someone panic yet remain miraculously elegant under pressure.

“Oh, no matter. Let us be quick, her Majesty's caprice will be the doom of us all. She doesn't take kindly to tardiness, you out of everyone should know that best!”

He... should?

Then he has the reason to believe that he has some kind of counterpart in this place?

Still puzzled, the samurai follows his friend when he begins to hasten off somewhere. He is led through a series of meandering halls that depict the splendor of the palace. His awe can only last for a short while, though, for he still has the need to be vigilant.

“Thankfully, Noelle has already rolled in her favorite pastries and tea,” they stop in front of a pair of gilded doors, “With some stroke of luck, she's at least pacified... or so I hope.”

Xingqiu gives him another look over before flinching, eyebrows arching in confusion. “Also, what in heaven's name are you wearing?”

The stress on his words is enough to prompt for Kazuha to glance at himself. Nothing is out of the ordinary, he is still clad in his normal clothes.

“Is... there something wrong with my apparel?”

Although... if he does take into consideration the garments worn by the man in front of him, then he supposes that he does stick out like a sore thumb in comparison.

“Yes!” Xingqiu all but cries out, “You aren't wearing your tailored garments, if anything, you're dressed as if you're-... !”

The sudden pause is concerning—and so is the trepidation that rose on his face.

“Were you planning to eschew your duty as her Majesty's Knight and Servant?! Though you are not one to blame...”

Kazuha can only blink again, floundered, and left to pick up the gears and screws that his mind has dropped. Knight and servant? I am lost.

He did vow in the mirage that he was Fischl's bodyguard... the only answer he can construe now is that that vow has seemingly carried here.

“Sir Kazuha!” the voice makes him jolt.

Xingqiu sighs, disgruntled and worried. Running his gloved hands through his bangs, he gives his lips a quick nibble before settling on a decision.

Until now, the samurai can't begin to grasp why he's so distraught.

“This isn't good, you seem out of it. Perhaps you should go, I'll tell her Majesty that-”

They hear the opening of the doors a second too late.

“What's the fuss for, Chancellor?”

Xingqiu almost jumps out of his skin.

“Your Majesty!”

Kazuha falls silent. That...

The woman standing before them has hair of [c] and a pair of [c] eyes, far from the appearance he's expecting.

... Is not 'her Highness'.

In fact, he hasn't seen nor known of her at all until now. And simply standing in her presence is more than enough for him to deduce why his friend is rather agitated.

This monarch—she does not exude the aura of benevolence.

“You may leave.” her voice is as smooth as silk yet as stern and frigid as ice.

Kazuha understands the prickle of fear that's seen in the way Xingqiu, the 'Chancellor', bows at a perfect forty-five-degree angle and his inability to look at him in the eye.

All he hears is a silent bode of farewell and good luck until he's turning on his heel.

Wordlessly, the Queen—who is she?—enters the parlor. He takes it as the sign to follow, closing the ornate doors behind him and not moving in place.

The faintest of breezes that roll from the open window warns him of something—or, rather, of someone.

“Kaedehara,” he tenses, the tone used slowly goading him into summoning his sword if need be. “Where have you been? It is already quarter past three.”

He doesn't answer. How can he?

Or maybe he doesn't answer because he has a feeling that he shouldn't speak lest he wants his tongue cut off. The drive to have his blade in his hands is buried.

Unless the woman presents herself as a threat, he won't draw his sword. There is no need to raise a weapon when she hasn't raised one herself.

There are conflicts that can be resolved through conversations... and he hopes that this is one of those said conflicts.

Her back turned on him, the female royal stands at the center of the room, bathing under the peering sunshine. The ethereality of the sight belies her portentous mien.

“Were you compelled to play a role in the theater to amuse the children again? Or perhaps it was in your intention to abscond?” her words cut through like daggers, reminiscent of the Shogun. “I sure do hope it wasn't the latter, Kaedehara.”

As swift as a flown arrow, the Queen turns, [c]s staring into his pair of rubies. He feels his breath pause.

“Do not make me question your fealty.”

“I...”

What was he supposed to say?

The sunlight proceeds to claw its way through the interior of the parlor, and although it appears as a beautiful sight, he can't help but liken the nearing light to increasing peril.

With each elapsing second, there rouses a presage and thus, the desire to call forth his blade. Yet, when he actually tries to, it does not answer his call.

He's frozen in place when the Queen stalks closer like a predator would do to its prey. His mind urges him to run- but invisible shackles prevent him from doing so.

One step closer, one step backward.

His back hits the door and though he's tempted to angle his head away, he doesn't. If there is something he shouldn't do, it is to appear weak.

Fingers begin to trace his neck up to his jaw and he releases an involuntary shiver. It's cold. His eyes fly halfway down to a stern, simmering stare.

“What are you-!”

“Oh? 'You'?” the lady challenges.

Slow and steady, he sets his hand on the handles of the doors behind him, a mere second away from escaping. Yet, the breathtaking pair of [c]s do not fail to keep him in place.

“You're acting peculiar today, Kaedehara. For some reason, you are discourteous...” she grabs him by the chin, the smile on her face devilishly telling. “And easily flustered. Usually, you are so composed.”

She steps even closer, closer than he can possibly imagine and his breath is hitching. His hand twitches.

“Yet here, you stand...”

The Queen observes his face, the way his lips are pursed and the way he does not break the eye contact. It makes her simper, a shadow casting over her pretty visage.

“Daring to look into my eyes when you should be aware that you shouldn't.”

She must be aware, his mind concludes. That I am not who I appear to be.

That he must hastily look away as though to give the impression that he finds himself at fault—but he doesn't. He does not bow to oppressors.

In fact, he only blinks, and for a reason he doesn't know, that only seemed to amuse the lady more.

Her giggle is ostensibly cherubic, though he knows now that she isn't as angelic as she sounds. His heart begins to race when she closes the distance between them—be it of fear, alarm, or fluster, he has no idea.

He only hopes that she can't hear it and mistake the austere expression on his face to be a mere facade.

The other hand that lands on his hip nearly makes him jolt.

Leave. His mind demands.

“Who are you?” Kazuha whispers, slowly, wary that their lips may touch. Oddly enough, he finds himself staring at the ruby tint that glosses over the lady's plump, lower lip.

Is it make-up? From the sweets? Or is it blood?

The answer that he receives is an answer indeed, but it fails to satiate the curiosity within.

Escape.

He completely stops breathing when she presses against him, lips moving to whisper in his ear like a demon tempting a human.

“I am your Queen.”

Before you are ensnared by her thorns.

As if his hand has a mind of its own, he pushes the doors behind him, letting them splay open. Away from the bloodthorned royal, who only bestows a smile as he falls back and hits the ground.

Thud!

“Oomph-!”

Instantly, the place snaps away, flicking into the familiar appearance of the mirage he was at just earlier. When he blinks, no longer is the so-called Queen in front of him, nor are there the doors.

There is just a stoned wall.

“Hey, there he is! Kazuha!”

Rising from the floor, he pats any dirt and dust that may have clung to his clothes. As he's doing so, a collective sound of rushing steps come to his right.

Paimon looks and flies over him in concern, inquiring, “Where have you been? You disappeared on us so suddenly!”

Xinyan is quick to jump in on the query wagon, glancing at the owner of the mirage with a nod.

“Fischl- I mean, her Highness was about to dispatch her Knights to go and search for you.”

“Not like they could've done the job, we are far more competent, if having him here is not enough evidence,” responds Mona, the slight haughtiness of her tone unable to hide the relief seen on her face.

“Lady Megistus!” Oz reprimands, though he's only given a shrug.

They are quick to erupt in a tiny squabble, as is the usual shenanigan of the group of friends. Perhaps it is the fact that they've found the samurai that they allowed their guards to drop.

All but Lumine, who drags him to a nearby corner, befuddled at the way he followed along with little to no complaints and comments.

“Are you okay? You're a little red.”

I am? Kazuha wonders to himself. A second later, he realizes that he is feeling warmer than usual. His skin is burning.

Not even the most chill brush of the winds can ease the warmth on his face, to his genuine astonishment. But he supposes it's natural... given that it's just a literal minute ago that he has gone through some... dangerously fascinating things.

Lumine frowns and gives him a pat on the shoulder.

“You may be running a fever, you should go back to camp.”

A fever. It nearly makes him snicker.

Right, it must be a little peculiar for someone such as him, who is usually calm and collected, to suddenly appear so flustered and blushing. So, it's a possibility that's crossed off.

“I do suppose I need to clear my head,” he places a hand over his chest, finding it still racing. “Then if you'll excuse me.”

“I'll tell the others.” assures the Traveler, then they part ways.

Kazuha ambles through the halls of Immernachtreich for real this time around. The unexplained trip to a different palace has left him quite winded, so he does admit that he needs some time to cool off.

He doesn't have an answer for the things he's seen.

Is it a real place?

If so, then is it a different world?

Why has he crossed to it?

The cold wind brushing over his lips almost makes him stumble, immediately recalling the way he was held with adverse intimacy.

His heart is still racing.

[C]s repaints his mind.

Who is she?

The more he ponders over it, the more his head begins to pound- as though some kind of force is attempting to impede his thoughts from proceeding.

When he blinks, for a split second, he thinks he sees a blur of himself pass by in a rush. And when he turns—... !

“Your Majesty.”

A magical sight; it is as if the hall has split.

Halfway through, the violets of Immernachtreich have transitioned to the blacks of the same palace he had trespassed into. And standing far from reach is no one but a clone of himself, bowing to the same Queen of [c].

Once more, those [c]s meet his. Ruby lips stretched upward, her voice rings.

“Kaedehara.”

The void snaps as if it isn't there in the first place—and then he's staring into the usual hallway of the mirage.

Kazuha is at a loss for words. He has been blessed with the last image, yet he remains standing with no answers. By the time his friends have rendezvoused with him, he is still stunned.

He keeps the imageries a secret when they ask about his peculiar change. And when time is slow, he still thinks about the unearthly [c] majesty—a mystery only he will know.

Ah, what a serendipitous vacation, indeed.

a/n: lovely, lovely tension, mm i did quite enjoy writing that adhajhdajdahdjak talk about multiverse?? HDJDHASJDAA

but yes let's see here, theer's an obvious distinction between this kazuha and his tyranny!counterpart. the queen (go slay, mc) remarks that he's usually submissive, and well, doesn't that sum up tyranny!kazuha? always reverent and polite despite the queen's morally questionable actions.

i was tempted to throw lumine in the palace as well lmao bUT THAT WOULD GET TOO LONG-

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @hey-comrade-hold-stil @limelightsuperhero @chloeloe @loptido @windyventi @nejibot @ganyuqrt @justrinnn @yasunamilk @alana5021 @uwu-dreams @yvechu @mininji

#m-tyranny #kazuha x reader #kazuha fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #female reader

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donttalkaboutmemes · 2 years

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Aladdin (1992) Lyric Meme

Under the cut you will find 50+ lyrics from the 1992 version of Aladdin to use for your enjoyment!

Arabian Nights

1. “I come from a land, from a faraway place.”

2. “It’s barbaric, but hey, it’s home.”

3. “A fool off his guard could fall and fall hard out there on the dunes.”

One Jump Ahead

4. “I steal only what I can’t afford. And that’s everything.”

5. “These guys don’t appreciate I’m broke.”

6. “Just a little snack, guys.”

7. “Rip him open take it back, guys.”

8. “I can take a hint, gotta face the facts.”

9. “He’s become a one-man rise in crime.”

10. “I’d blame parents except he hasn’t got ‘em.”

11. “Gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat. Tell you all about it when I got the time.”

12. “Let’s not be too hasty.”

13. “Still I think he’s rather tasty.”

14. “They’re quick, but I’m much faster.”

One Jump Ahead (Reprise)

15. “If only they’d look closer.”

16. “Would they see a poor boy? No siree.”

17. “They’d found out there’s so much more to me.”

Friend Like Me

18. “You’re in luck cause up your sleeve, ya got a brand of magic never fails.”

19. “You got some power in your corner now, some heavy ammunition in your camp.”

20. “What will your pleasure be?”

21. “You ain’t never had a friend like me.”

22. “Life is your restaurant and I’m your maître d.”

23. “Come on, whisper what it is you want.”

24. “We pride ourselves on service.”

25. “I’m in the mood to help you, dude.”

26. “Can your friends do this?”

27. “Can your friends do that?”

28. “Don’t you sit there slack-jawed, buggy-eyed. I’m here to answer all your midday prayers.”

29. “I got a powerful urge to help you out, so what’s your wish? I really wanna know.”

30. “Have a wish or two or three.”

Prince Ali

31. “Hey clear the way in the old bazaar.”

32. “Hey you, let us through! It’s a bright new star!”

33. “Come be the first on your block to meet his eye.”

34. “You’re gonna love this guy!”

35. “Genuflect, show some respect. Down on one knee.”

36. “He faced the galloping horde, a hundred bad guys with swords.”

37. “Who sent those goons to their lords?”

38. “That physique, how can I speak! Weak in the knee!”

39. “Adjust your veil and prepare to gawk and grovel and stare.”

40. “Heard your princess was a sight, lovely to see.”

A Whole New World

41. “I can show you the world. Shining, shimmering, splendid.”

42. “Tell me, princess, now when did you last let your heart decide.”

43. “I can open your eyes, take you wonder by wonder.”

44. “No one to tell us no or where to go or say we’re only dreaming.”

45. “From way up here, it’s crystal clear, that now I’m in a whole new world with you.”

46. “Don’t you dare close your eyes!”

47. “Hold your breath, it gets better.”

48. “I’m like a shooting star, I’ve come so far. I can’t go back to where I used to be.”

49. “Let me share this whole new world with you.”

50. “A whole new world, that’s where we’ll be.”

Prince Ali (Reprise)

51. “Yes it is he, but not as you know him.”

52. “Read my lips and come to grips with reality.”

53. “Meet a blast from your past whose lies were too good to last.”

#ask meme #askbox meme #rp meme #roleplaying meme #sentence meme #lyric meme #disney meme #aladdin

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bukojuiice · 3 years

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— what they would be like as disney princes

ೃ pairings: (izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, and eijiro kirishima x fem! reader)

ೃ tags: headcanons, disney au!

ೃ warnings: none

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ if you want to be a part of my mha taglist. send me an ask! ♡

ೃ s/o to bestie @lovelytarou for her big brain and for helping me think up which of the princes kiri could be 😚💕

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!)

ೃ extra note: adding my own little twist to these hcs, they are disney princes with quirks!

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34 @sparkykatsuki @ramunegoddess, @serossimpy

Eijiro Kirishima – as Li Shang from Mulan

- *Mulan voice* Eijiro? Eijiro? Eijiroooo

- Eijiro Kirishima is the handsome son of the Army General and it’s very obvious that everyone swoons for him. Yes, everyone in the army.

- He’s manly, brave, sweet, caring, and responsible. What more can a soldier ask for?

- “LET’S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS! TO DEFEAT THE VILLAINS!” (ok that sounded better in my head)

- during the “I make a man out of you” sequence, kirishima uses his hardening quirk to not only hype up his warriors but also for that extra effect. He’s just bad-ass and hot like that.

- Eijiro wakes up at 5 am to train and work out. And yes, he does that shirtless. It helps him move a lot more and of course, it’s pleasing to the eyes.

- H I S T O N E D M U S C L E S. that’s it. That’s the headcanon.

- He needs that daily grind after all !

- You swear you could hear the other soldiers sigh dreamily every time they catch him work out.

- Whenever he praises his fellow comrades, he smiles a very cheeky smile, his shark teeth cutely popping out and it’s just so endearing and charming.

- After being ridiculed and belittled by your fellow comrades for being physically weak, you wanted to prove them that they were wrong. You continue to stay determined as you decided to create your training regime that consisted of waking up at 5 am in the morning to train too (and this was prior to knowing that kirishima would wake up at the same time to work out too. Oooh~ what a coincidence.)

- “(Y/N)! You like him? Helloooooo!? Him and I even share the same hair color! He ain’t worth it!”

- “Mushu, please. You are a discount version of him. Now, I’m going to go and train now.”

- You leave your tent at exactly 5 am, and as you began to stretch and do warm-ups outside, the biggest tent across yours suddenly opens up too, revealing General Eijiro Kirishima… in his shirtless getup.

- “A-ah! Good Morning General Kirishima!” You stand up straight, shifting your weight to the right leg and bending your left, bowing to him.

- He nods at you, shooting you a small smile. “You’re up early. Early for a new recruit! Do you plan to train?”

- “Y-yes! I will be using the pole and training weights sir!” You bow your head, as you remain standing straight.

- He hands you over the weights. He refuses to give it to you, instead insists to tie it on your wrists and help you up the wooden pole.

- General Kirishima holds you by the waist, making sure you don’t fall and you’re positioned correctly onto the pole. “Alright. You’re positioned in the right way now, you may proceed.”

- You continue to hold onto it, lowkey about to bang your head on the wooden pole as you were about to die of embarrassment.

- “(Y/N), he’s just being nice and just treats you like any other soldier under his command. Don’t expect too much!” Mushu whispers from your side, as soon as general kiri steps back and was not within earshot of the two of you.

- “I don’t have my hopes up at all, Mushu. I’m not expecting anything.” You sigh, trying to reassure yourself as you began climbing up. The weights pull you down, but you must persevere.

- “You can do this, (L/N)!”

- “(L/N)!?” You squeak, losing your focus, slipping down the pole and back to square one. You were a fumbling mESS

- “woah woah woah. Is everything alright?” he was about to hold onto your waist again, making sure you don’t fall off or fall down. You collect yourself before becoming too flustered to answer.

- “Y-yes General Kirishima! I’m fine!”

- When your gender had finally been revealed after the battle against the villains, Kirishima did not feel betrayed albeit just disappointed that you had to hide that fact for far too long and wasn’t being open to him when the two of you became much closer

- He’s been in love with you ever since the beginning.

- He’s always admired your passion and your drive. However, due to him being the general, he wasn’t so sure to approach you without being biased.

- “You don’t find a girl like that in every hero’s journey.”

Katsuki Bakugo – as The Beast

- Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a blonde young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired and his quirk was one of the most powerful many have seen, the prince was belligerent, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold.

- Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away, but she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within. And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love and no humbleness in his heart, and as punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast, and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there.

- We’ve been known, the B in bakugo stands for beast (insert lenny face for a certain implication)

- Essentially, Bakugo had two quirks at once. Not only was he now a beast, (a physical quirk) but he also has his explosion quirk.

- He’d pretty much look the same as the beast from the Disney movie, however there’s some blonde highlights in his fur and he’s much more aggressive and intimidating to look at. His fangs more emphasized and he has a much softer appearance; like that of a huge pomeraninan.

- Ok…. no thoughts head empty just thinking about katsuki having an even huskier voice now that he’s transformed into a beast.

Katsuki Bakugo, who was ashamed of his newly transformed monstrous appearance, shut himself in his castle, The rose the old woman had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-first year. If he could learn to love another, and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love an explosive beast?

- Significant members of Katsuki’s posse who were turned into magical items were Eijiro Kirishima, his castle maître d' whom had turned into a candelabra, his annoying majordomo, Tenya Ilda became a pendulum clock, the head housekeeper, Ochaco Uraraka had turned into an enchanted teapot, the vice-head housekeeper, Denki Kaminari had become a little tea cup, Mina Ashido, the lady-in-waiting became an enchanted wardrobe, and lastly, Hanta Sero, the Castle’s Valet and Chaffeur, became a coat rack.

- All of Katsuki’s servants try their very best to make their prince change his ways, however, to no avail, their efforts have been fruitless. They were about to lose hope as Bakugo was about turn 21, which meant the rose would no longer bloom until… you came.

- Gran Torino, your grandfather, had gotten lost in the woods and ended up finding Bakugo’s castle to seek shelter, not knowing he had been trespassing all along. After Katsuki finds him, he throws him to the castle dungeon.

- You were the spirited, headstrong and bookish “beauty” of the town, however only being admired for your looks and not for your intelligence. You really had enough of this village and wanted to get out of here asap but after your grandfather had told you to wait just a little bit more, even though you frankly had enough of Monoma, the ~most handsome~ yet the biggest jerk in town constantly asking for your hand in marriage.

- The disappearance of your grandfather had prompted for you to search for him, leading you too, to the beast’s castle.

- Once you get there, you are to be greeted by Bakugo in his very beastly form, terrifying you. However, you stood your ground, asking for your grandfather. Gran Torino is set free under the condition of you having to stay in the castle instead.

- At your first night, you refuse to join him for dinner enraging him.

- “Where is she?” Bakugo grits his teeth, growling at Ilda.

- “Aha- Well- You see… she’s not coming.” Ilda mutters nervously, his clock hands waving in weird chopping gestures.

- “WHAT!?” Bakugo’s voice echoes around the dining hall, He leaps out of the room, busting the doors open, whilst Kirishima, Ilda, and Ochaco follow suit.

- He bangs the door, “OI OI OI I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO COME DOWN FOR DINNER?”

- “I’m not hungry.” You reply softly.

- “ HAH? YOU COME OUT OR I’LL BREAK DOWN THE DOOR!”

- “Master Bakugo… I could be wrong, but that may not be the way to win a girl’s affection.” Kirishima speaks in a hushed whisper, grimacing.

- “Please attempt to be a gentleman.” Ilda says slowly and matter of factly.

- Bakugo grits his teeth, scrunching his eyebrows, pointing to the door. “But she’s being… SO DIFFICULT!” he turns to the door, as if wanting you to hear what he was saying.

- “Gently… Gently…” Ochaco repeats, trying to calm the prince down.

- Bakugo rolls his eyes and repeats his words more softly this time, “Oi… will you come down for dinner?”

- “No.”

- He turns to his servants once again, pointing to the door, his mouth forming into a pout.

- “O- It would be my greateest pleasure if you would join me for dinner.” He could barely muster out the words. “Please?”

- “No, thank you!”

- “YOU CAN’T STAY THERE FOREVER!” He barks, “THEN GO AHEAD AND STARVE!” He storms out of the hall, running his way to his castle wing.

- After you were saved by the beast from the wolves, you tend to his wounds. Bakugo was rather… stubborn and didn’t want you to touch it or even press hot compress onto it.

- He continues to growl lowly, still seething from the pain, attempting to lick it just like any other canine would do.

- “Don’t do that.” You try to stop him from doing so, he growls at you, moving his wounded arm away from you. The castle servants watch in fear, taking a few steps back.

- “Just hold still.”

- “GRRR! THAT HURTS!”

- “If you hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much!”

- “IF YOU HADN’T RAN AWAY THIS WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED!”

- “If you didn’t scare me, then I wouldn’t have run away!”

- “PHAH! WELL YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE GONE TO THE WEST WING!”

- “Well, you should learn how to control your temper!”

- He was about to protest, until he couldn’t think of anymore good comebacks, he stops. he pouts and rests his head on his hand as a sign of defeat.

- After that night, the two of you had finally warmed up to each other. Wanting to surprise you and at the suggestion of Kirishima and Ilda, Bakugo had finally given you the chance to explore the west wing. Surprising you by leading to you the castle’s huge and well-kept library. A place where he seeks solace and peace.

- You never expected him to be someone so aggressive yet be so interested in reading and of other mediums of knowledge. You had a lot in common and a feeling was blossoming between the two of you. In turn, you help him act more like a gentleman.

- You continue to spend time with him, not knowing that you were slowly but surely falling.

- “There’s something sweet and almost kind, but he was mean, coarse and unrefined. And now he’s dear, and I’m unsure, I wonder why I didn’t see it there before?”

- As much as bakugo denies that he isn’t in love with you, he’s actually always had. He had just feared that you would never love him in return.

- With the help of the fashionista turned enchanted closet that is Mina, she brings out a beautiful golden ballgown hemmed with golden roses, with off the shoulder sleeves and golden gloves to complete the look. You tie some of your hair into a neat bun, with the majority trails down your neck in a beautiful and flowing motion.

- Bakugo on the other hand, was dressed in such a refined and handsome way. He wore a golden vest over a white dress shirt with a white kerchief. And, to complete the look, his very trusting stylists, Kirishima and Kaminari styled him in black pants.

- As you dance the night away, the chandelier adorned with sparkling crystals hanging above you, the mural in the ceiling looking ever so heavenly, and calming waltz music to accompany you… it was a dream come true.

- You nestle your head onto Bakugo’s shoulder, the latter looking a bit surprised yet his mouth forming into a small smile as he continues to guide you by hold your hand, twirling you around and just dancing with you. No other peering or judgemental eyes to stop the two of you from doing so.

- Did I mention that he was an amazing dancer? Perks of being a prince I guess, but it’s also one of his natural talents.

- Bakugo lets you go back to your grandfather that same night, watching you leave with your horse on the balcony.

- He loves you, so he has to let you go.

- Monoma and the village people ambush the castle to kill the beast, the castle servants trying their best to keep them at bay and the ever so arrogant village hunter climbing his way to Bakugo, you rush to the scene, and as soon as Bakugo sees you, he regains his strength and sends Monoma falling down a pit.

- Bakugo was able to go back to his quarters with you helping him down, taking one last look at you.

- He smiles half-heartedly, still trying to catch his breath. “You came back…”

- “Of course, I came back.” You fight the tears trying to form in your eyes, hugging him tightly and trying to comfort him in his last moments. “If only I’ve gotten here sooner.”

- “I-it’s better this way.”

- “We’re together now! Everything’s going to be fine…”

- “At least, I got to see you one last time.”

- “P-please… Don’t leave me… I love you.”

- As the last rose petal was about to fall, Bakugo is knocked out and is slowly succumbing to his wounds. It is through your genuine care and love for him, along with his change of heart and new resolve (albeit still retaining most of his temperamental and pompous personality, he is able to keep it in check) he transforms back into a human.

- Along with all those who lived in the castle turning back into human, the castle retaining it’s original bright and vibrant colors and atmosphere, you and Bakugo live your very own happily ever after.

Izuku Midoriya – as Hercules from Hercules

- A babie Izuku had been sent down from godlihood to live as a mortal, as his parents, All Might, the God of Thunder, and Inko, the Goddess of Marriage had wanted to protect him from AFO, the God of the Underworld, who will take over Mount Olympus if Izuku does not take him down according to a prophecy.

- He grows up as a simpleton, the adopted son of both farmers, dreaming to make it big out there, with very ambitious and pure dreams of becoming a hero.

- But after, being belittled by his very own peers for not looking the part as he couldn’t control his gifted super strength, scrawny, timid, too pure for this world and quite weakhearted, Izuku wanted to prove to them that he will become a hero in the future.

- “Sometimes… I feel like, I really don’t belong here. Like I’m supposed to be someplace else…” Izuku confesses sincerely, his adoptive father looking at him in worry as he did not want to stop the young boy from learning who he actually was and all the potential he has.

- “If you found me then… where did I come from? Why was I left here?”

- His adoptive parents hand him over a golden medal with a thunder and lightning symbol that was said to be hanging around his neck when they found him. This was his answer that raised more questions.

- He embarks on his journey to find one of the temples of All Might, as this was the only thing the symbol on the medal could allude to.

- Okay but go the distance fits Izuku so well! A pure and hopeful young boy seeking to make a difference in this world and just wanting to become a hero by the most wholesome means.

- “I have often dreamed of a far off place, Where a hero's welcome would be waiting for me. Where the crowds would cheer, when they see my face, and a voice keeps saying this is where I'm meant to be…”

- just imagining izuku’s boyish voice singing this is just aaaaaaa

- He eventually finds one of the temples, learning that all along, he was the son of the legendary God. All Might tells him he must prove his worth and earn back his godhood by becoming a true hero.

- His father tells him to go search for Shota Aizawa, the famed instructor who has taught many great heroes in his time. Gifting Izuku a Pegasus, he embarks on another journey again to find the man, so that he may be trained.

- When he arrives at the home of Aizawa, the teacher had retired as none of his heroes have ever earned a constellation in the sky, prompting him to expel them.

- Izuku however, explained to his soon-to-be teacher that he wasn’t like the others, and… he proved true.

- Although Aizawa was hesitant at first, he liked the kid’s determination and sheer will, so he began to train him.

- Maybe, he could make a difference.

- After his training and after undergoing an amazing transformation, Izuku was finally ready to start his way to achieving Godhood and becoming a true hero.

- On the way to a nearby city, Izuku encounters you, a totally not damsel in distress and totally not a pawn of AFO, being tormented by a minotaur.

- Izuku saves you and you couldn’t help but notice how pure and how gentle he was. You thank him albeit with a tint of sarcasm, hoping the two of you would meet again as you venture deeper into the forest to go and meet with AFO, whom you made a deal with in order to bring back your lost lover from the dead- only for them to leave you soon after.

- You were once a very soft and romantic person. So open to giving love to others and never shying away from any form of affection. However…

- After that terrible experience, you developed a cynical outlook. Not taking slack from anybody, always keeping your distance, barely interacting with others and showing no interest in forming any genuine relationships with others ever since.

- Izuku reminded you that there was still some good in this world.

- His genuine innocence, his boyish yet handsome looks, his pure determination to save others and his charismatic wit just swept you off of your feat.

- However, you still had to keep your distance. You just weren’t ready to trust anyone again after that what had happened.

- Izuku finally reaches his destination, defeating a Hydra using both of his wits and his strength, as he becomes a celebrated hero around the city of Musustafu.

- Since then, he jumped from city to city, striking down every otherworldly monster that AFO had created to try and defeat him, and making him somewhat of a celebrity.

- Izuku, however, remained humble. Knowing full well that the fame he had gained was not needed in order to become a hero.

- In fact, it was what could become a hero’s biggest downfall.

- Whilst chilling around in a huge museum dedicated to Izuku’s efforts, you pay him a visit and the pure and wholesome boy, clearly enthralled by you since the beginning, became very flustered at the sight of seeing you.

- You start playing with your words, flirtatiously manipulating him to get him to go on a date with you.

- “(Y/N) by the gods, he’s so pure why would you do this?” you thought. “what did he do to deserve this from me?” yet, you were bound by a contract with the god of the underworld, so it’s not like you have any choice right?

- You go on a date with him, and end up falling reeeeeeal hard.

- The two of you end your date in a romantic park, filled with conveniently placed statues of couples and a statue of Izuku, in the middle, near the fountain for you to fawn over whilst singing one of the best Disney songs ever to.

- Aizawa hastens him to leave as they still have training to do, but he doesn’t leave until he picks a white flower from a tree, giving it to you, and planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

- Midoriya hops on his Pegasus and they flutter away as you continue to watch his figure travel farther and farther away from you.

- You observe and play with the white rose on your hand, sighing dreamily, until you snap back into your senses and think about the matter at hand.

- “Ugh… what’s the matter with me? You’d think a girl would learn.”

- *Cue Music and the Muses known as Ochaco, Tsuyu, Momo, Mina and Jirou)

- “Who d'you think you're kidding~ He's the earth and heaven to you. Try to keep it hidden, Honey we can see right through you. Girl you can't conceal it We know how you're feeling... who you thinking of~”

- The muses continue the musical number, yet in your heart you just need to deny these new and fuzzy emotions you were feeling for Izuku.

- “No chance no way I won't say it, no no. (You swoon you sigh why deny it oh oh) It's too cliche I won't say I'm in loveeee…”

- After all the ordeals Izuku had to go through to save you, (literally jumping into the river styx to recover your soul) his willingness to sacrifice himself for you was the final key needed to ascend to Godhood, and so that he may join his parents and the other gods in Mount Olympus once more.

- However, this would come at a cost, if he were to go back to Mount Olympus, that would mean he wouldn’t see you ever again, instead only being able to watch over you from up and above.

- And so, he chooses to remain on Earth with you, and even without his godly status, he could remain as the striking and true hero he is.

- The two of you watch the night sky as All Might forms a constellation on the sky just for Izuku. Not only making Aizawa also proud, but also as a sign that Izuku himself- (and your love) was worth seeing in the stars.

Shoto Todoroki – as Flynn Rider from Tangled

- Ok this is a bit of a stretch and I KNOW IT IS

- Fantasy au Shoto has a white horse, and Flynn rider befriends a white horse that hates him. that’s the closest similarity these two have.

- Flynn rider is my favorite unofficial Disney prince, and shoto is my favorite mha boy so let’s just roll with this!!

- Shoto Todoroki was a lost prince turned thief, and after he rebelled from his controlling and manipulative father, His only way of escape was if he turned to a life of thievery, hiding his identity and straying away from his mantle as the Prince of the Todoroki Family.

- He was very rebellious and mischievous, yet was also stern and rather monotone at times. He would crack jokes, but they would fall flat most of time and despite being absolutely handsome and looking very charismatic and charming on the outside, he wasn’t the best at picking up any gestures or flirtatious remarks said to him.

- He approached some thieves before and very innocently asked them how to live the life of a rogue, the bandits laughed at him but were nice enough to give him tips. The first advice they told Shoto was to take up a moniker. So that he wouldn’t be easily discovered or found by security officials. They jokingly called him The Half-Hot and Half Cold prince, because of his looks and his quirk.

- Not knowing that he was an actual prince. A wayward prince to be specific.

- Shoto didn’t care enough so he used the nickname given to them and went on his way to a different castle.

- After abandoning his kingdom, he chooses to live freely by his own means, and making the most of his time as a free man and not as a prince. You only live once after all.

- He then leaves for the Kingdom of Corona, being forced to create a trio with very unfriendly bandits, Sato and Koda. Their mission was to steal the crown on the eve of your birthday and hope to sell it for an absolutely impossible price.

- After they successfully infiltrate the palace and steal the crown jewel, Shoto stacks the prized possession into his satchel, betraying Koda and Sato, using them as a scapegoat, and making his way to a nearby forest settlement where he may hide and then move on to the next kingdom.

- However, he underestimated the castle guards as they were able to find traces of him. Shoto, not wanting to back down from a fight, uses his ice quirk to prevent the guards from following him in any further into the forest. (He refuses to use his fire quirk due to its relation to his father)

- Knowing that it wouldn’t take long before the castle guards would find him again, he had to go somewhere and hide first.

- He then sees an obscure and weirdly placed tower in the middle of the forest, thinking that he may take refuge there. And so, Shoto uses his ice quirk once more to elevate himself onto the only open window of the tower.

- He was about to start adjusting to his new surroundings as he steps foot inside, until…

- BANG!

- The last thing he heard was the sound of a clanging frying pan.

- Unbeknownst to him, he was hit on the head by said frying pan.

- Shoto wakes up to see that he was tied to a chair and his precious satchel gone by his side. He observes his surroundings to see that he was not tied by a rope, but instead tied using someone’s long and luscious hair. Hair so long that it was scattered all around the room.

- “Is this… hair?”

- You appear from the darkness, a very smug look spread upon your face, gripping the frying pan tightly.

- You were the lost princess of the kingdom of Corona. You were kidnapped by Mother Midnight, and she raised you as your own, keeping you locked in the tower so that she can use the regeneration powers coming from your hair to make herself younger.

- Each year, the king and the queen release lanterns in the sky on your birthday, hoping for your safe return.

- It was too much of a coincidence. You know in your heart that the lanterns are meant for you. Yet, Mother Midnight constantly forbids and refuses you from leaving the tower.

- “Who are you? And how did you find me?” You grit your teeth, interrogating him, your frying pan ready to hit on him if he dares to make a move.

- Tsuyu, your pet chameleon and best friend was watching the half-and-half man intently.

- “I’m the Half Hot- Half Cold Prince.” He says simply, barely moving and showing any emotion. You stare back at him, puzzled. What the heck was wrong with this guy?

- “I mean, your actual name.” You repeat yourself as you slowly continue to approach him.

- “Oh. I’m Shoto. Shoto Todoroki.” He says plainly once again. “Can I have my satchel back please?”

- “Nope.” You reply, popping the p. “Why are you even here for the first place? Is it for my hair!?”

- “He tilts his head in confusion, “Of course not. I was being chased and saw this tower, so I used my quirk and got up here. Now, may I please have my satchel back?”

- “Hmm… if you say you’re from the outside then… I need you to take me to the lights.” You climb up your room balcony, pulling the curtain away to reveal the beautiful mural you made in dedication to the lanterns that are released from the kingdom every year during your birthday. “Then, I’ll give you your satchel.”

- He looks at the mural in awe for a moment then breathes a hefty sigh, “Alright. We have a deal.”

- You untie him from your hair. He stands up quickly and was about to descend down the tower. “I can use my quirk to bring us down-“

- “Nah.” You hold up your hand in front of him, throwing your hair down and using it as a swing as you glide down with grace.

- Your eyes meet the grass and you take a deep breath before you take your first step on it and then…

- “My life will finally begin.” You take in your surroundings, feeling overwhelming happiness about to burst inside you.

- Shoto catches up to you, using his quirk to slide down the tower. He crosses his arms, at the sight of seeing you jumping around like a little chipmunk who has not seen any land, a contempt look plastered upon his face, just wanting to get this job done and head on to the next kingdom he could go to.

- “THIS IS AMAZING!” You watch him resting by the tree, leaning on it. You kick a pile of leaves to get his attention as you twirl around in your place, still taking in all these wonderful sights.

- “Look. We have to get to the kingdom grounds as soon as possible or else-“

- “It’s (Y/N).”

- “Excuse me?”

- “I’m (Y/N). I just remembered that I didn’t tell you that a while ago. Sorry!” You smile cheekily at him and because of how adorable you looked; he gave you a pass.

- “Alright. Let’s go then, (Y/N).

- Your adventure was absolutely chaotic. From entering a tavern full of scary bandits, for them to actually be softies all this time who were willing to help you see the lights. When the castle guards track down Shoto in the tavern, the bandits help you escape through a hidden passage, but find yourselves stuck in a flooding cave.

- Thinking that this was the end of both of your adventures and your lives, Shoto reveals to you that he was the missing prince of the Endeavor Kingdom and you also reveal to him that your hair glows when you sing.

- Bingo.

- Flower gleam and glow… Let your powers shine… Make the clock reverse… Bring back what once was mine.” You sang softly, your hair began to emanate a glowing light, as it served as a guide to get you out of the cave.

- Shoto’s hand was injured due to the very rough and dangerous properties inside of the cave and so, you heal him with the powers of your hair.

- Once again, repeating the song he had wanted to hear escape from your lips once more, your hair begins to glow as the wound on his palm was no more.

- He looks at you in awe. Noticing details about you that he hasn’t noticed before. How your eyes twinkled differently, like a star from a night sky. Your smile always radiating sunshine, and your aura emanating nothing but warmth and comfort.

- He was in love with you.

- How long did it take for him to realize that?

- “Are we almost there?” You wave your hand in front of his face and he snaps back into reality. “Ah yes. We’ll be in the village where the festivities will take place.”

- “THERE ARE FESTIVITIES!?”

- You reach the kingdom the morning after and began to partake in the festivities. All that Shoto could do was watch and admire you from afar as you danced and make merry with the townsfolk; not until you pulled him into the middle of the dance.

- He was awkward and wasn’t so used to having all this attention around him ever since he left his royal life, but you guide him well in the dance floor, getting lost in the moment, the two of you gaze at each other’s eyes, and the cheers of the townspeople unfortunately snapping you out of the moment.

- That night, the king and the queen, along with all of the townsfolk, flock to their boats for the annual cruise and lantern releasing.

- To surprise you, Shoto was able to snatch and rent a boat. The two of you board on it that night, and Shoto rows all the way to the middle of the lake and get a clear view of the ethereal spectacle that was about to take place.

- The first lantern, released by the king and queen, floats solely by itself. You rush to the other side of the boat, the boat rocking furiously due to the excitement. Your handsome companion on the other hand, was trying to keep the boat into place.

- You hold on to the edge of the boat as other lanterns follow suit. The huge boats around you were releasing their lanterns too.

- You look up at the sky, watching the lamps color the night. It was such a beautiful moment. Watching these floating lights reminds you of a comfort and inexplicable feeling from within. There was something about the light emanating from these paper lanterns, some of them bumping into each other, creating unique shadows, like that of shooting stars who were about to ascend back into the night sky.

- Lanterns continue to light up the night sky, as if they were like bright dreams. Lighting everyone’s resolve and everyone’s hearts.

- “All those days watching from the windows, All those years outside looking in. All that time never even knowing, just how blind I've been. Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight, Now I'm here, suddenly I see. Standing here, it's all so clear, I'm where I'm meant to be. And at last I see the light. And it's like the fog has lifted And at last I see the light. And it's like the sky is new, And it's warm and real and bright, And the world has somehow shifted. All at once everything looks different… Now that I see you.”

- After you felt too immersed into the beauty of the lights, you turn back to Shoto who was holding on to two lanterns that the two of you could release. A loving smile present on his face.

- You smile back at him, and the both of you release it into the sky.

- “All those days chasing down a daydream… All those years living in a blur… All that time never truly seeing things, the way they were.”

- The two of you look up to see the floating lights arise and you were immersed once again. Shoto fixes his gaze on you, admiring your beauty and your enthusiasm to see the lights you’ve always dreamed of seeing. He could do nothing but smile at you, as he’s truly fallen in love. He really has. His heart thumping loudly at the presence and the warmth that you’ve given him. Something that he had been seeking for so long.

- Now she's here shining in the starlight, Now she's here suddenly I know.”

- You continue look up. A lantern engraved with a sun symbol approaches your boat, and you point at it, pushing it up at the sky.

- “If she's here, it's crystal clear… I'm where I'm meant to go.”

- Shoto knew this was his only chance. His smile turning into that of a frown, as thoughts of not seeing you again came across his mind. He grabs your hand, touching it softly. You perk up a little bit at this gesture, but you smile back at him. Your eyes glimmering love and warmth once again.

- You hold both of his hands, grasping it firmly yet tenderly. The two of you gaze at each other’s eyes again, this time no one were to interrupt. This moment would just be between the two of you.

- You notice how beautiful Shoto’s heterochromatic eyes were from up close, the love shown in his eyes could only be for you and you feel your heart racing at that thought.

- And at last I see the light, And it's like the sky is new. And it's warm and real and bright, And the world has somehow shifted… All at once everything is different… Now that I see you.”

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waltenfiled · 2 years

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joel forcing everyone to wear heads of himself has the best horror potential if you're talking about it in-game.

TW // typical horror stuff! they're in the tags :D

just imagine this; amongst a seemingly lively and fantastical world with rulers alike living in harmony after chaos and disorder finally being brought down in justice - a king among them calls for an order, a crown that can rule all being presented right before their eyes. in normal fashion, people fought n' betrayed their allies for the gold holding gems to be placed on their heads.

after blood was shed, two rulers stay laying on the mountain, the other shielding the new highest behind him to prevent certain death

the first king wanted safety for the jewls of his people. encouraging the protection of fishes that people don't think about when slaughtering, people followed. now the cods are kept in sanctuaries so bold with life and casted away from the grasp of death that other unfortunate cods faced.

the second king was more brutal, enforcing a rule that left others unable to soar through the skies. people followed. now walking on terrain their bodies aren't used to, many rulers hissed in pain, now realizing the struggle of being faraway from where they needed to be but they stayed on land, frightened with the so called punishment the highest emperor kept on spreading around - in fear of death and torture for misdeeds, they cowered to their feet and ventured forth

the most recent.. a thief that gave credible chase, for a king so silly and seemingly unwise, a horrific rule was whispered among the empires of their world; 'wear my head or you shall be assassinated' he said to those he met, he was faced with disgust but needless to say, they followed. they were shipped across the world, purple sacks with green ties baring the face of their recent highest majesty.

in a world so seemingly bright and fantastical, you would never realize how quick it can turn grim. it's inhabitants equiping theirselves of someone else's head. dry blood staining their neck, it was horrible but the king couldn't say the same.

#tw blood #tw horror #tw gore #tw death #tw murder #tw violence #tw killing #tw torture #empires smp spoilers

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xmyshya · 3 years

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Bumpy road

summary: What if two of your favourite boys were pining after you? genre: angst, fluff, crack warnings: stupidity special thanks: the whole HQ Headquarters DS, for giving me ideas, for hyping up, for everything, I love you all. a/n: Colour coded! Red for Kuroo, Yellow for Atsumu, black for neutral/both! There's an Easter Egg! wc: 3.9k words

[April]

“Please take a seat in the last row”, your eyes followed an extended arm of your new homeroom teacher until they landed on a boy with the messiest bedhead you’d ever seen. He didn’t seem to pay much attention to you though, instead resting his eyes on a faraway point on the other side of the window. Until he heard the noise you made while shuffling your chair, that is. “Hiiiiii, I’m L/N Y/N, nice to meet you neighbour!”, a wide smile formed on your face. “Kuroo Tetsurou, nice to meet you too”.

One week later, you were standing on the gym's threshold, filling your lungs with a deep breath before taking the first step in as a new manager. Volleyball had never been a sport close to your heart, but you had had some experience with it, as well as basic knowledge, so you were up for a challenge. All the more reason to after being asked by an unexpectedly fun friend. And being able to spend more time with said friend. But more time spent on talking came with another consequence. You started hearing rumours and whispers. Things like wow, she’s really talking to him or oh, another victim to his charm reached your ears from everywhere. “Kuroo, am I not supposed to talk to you or something?”, slipped your lips one day. You might as well continue, since he already heard you and was now looking at you with a confusion clear in his eyes. “I just heard people being… surprised about this”. “Oh, apparently I’m either intimidating or hot enough to be a fuckboy”, you choked on your own saliva. “You’re what?” “Intimidating or hot, or both”, did he really say that with a straight face, not once but twice? You just burst out laughing, eyeing him up and down. “Sorry, where?”, laughter bending your body in half, you bumped your head against the desk. “Ouch”

[July]

School premises were swarmed with sweaty boys. Some of them were familiar, like Bokuto or Akaashi, who had been friends with Kuroo for quite a long time. You recognised Karasuno, also known as Country Bumpkins, due to a practice match 2 months prior. The rest? Well, you only knew they were parts of the Fukurodani group. There was a mock game going on, and you, being a diligent manager, observed every move of your teammates to give them performance feedback. Further into the game though, your eyes shifted more and more onto your best friend’s lifting shirt, every time he went for a block. Or spiked. Or served. And wow, his thigh muscles were really… “Okay people, time for a break!”, a shout somewhere near you brought you back to reality. You stood up and made your way to the door, to catch some fresh air, while you bumped into quite a firm body. Looking up revealed it was Kuroo. His smirk made you wonder if he noticed your stares. His wink convinced you he, in fact, did. “Y/N, your name should be Neon, cause daaaaaamn you’re a perfect 10” “So you must be Helium, cause I sure as hell want you on top of me on a table”, few people whistled. Oh shit. His reaction gave you an extra boost of confidence, because now it was painfully obvious that all the rumours about the man in front of you were pretty much it, rumours, since his ears could as well be beacons. You winked at him on your way back to the door, and he still stood there dumbfounded when you looked back after reaching it.

[October]

Something had changed. You couldn’t quite put a finger on what exactly, but it was different. Like a tiny heat wave whenever your hands brushed, and they brushed more often. Like an extra beat of your heart whenever you felt his touch on the small of your back. Like your eyes lingering on for a second longer, before dropping to each other’s lips. Like a blush tinting his ears when you smile at him. Or like the way his heart clenched, when your thick tears threatened to burn their way through his chest, because the world had been unfair to you once too many, while the only thing he could do was to hold you so tight and kiss the top of your head so gently.

[November]

Having to stay late at school really was a blessing, when it was just the two of you in an empty train compartment on your way home. Otherwise, you surely would be scolded or at least stared at, because the decibels of your laughters while fooling around were beyond socially acceptable limits. He was now chasing you, fingers threatening to tickle you once you’re caught… You started to turn just in time for your back to hit the wall, and you definitely didn’t expect him to be so close, with the way he hovered over you and his hand making a loud thud. Or maybe it was your heart. “Oh sorry, the train bumped”, there was something in his eyes that compelled you to look into them, even when he leaned on his forearm above your head. He was so close, you could almost feel his breath on your skin. “Are you sure it’s not you falling for me?”, a chuckle in your throat died instantly as you saw his eyes open wide in fear for a fraction of a second, before his usual cocky smirk curled his lips again. He booped your nose before leaning against the wall next to you. The rest of the way home was silent.

[January]

It was time for you to run to your own team’s match. There was no way to miss a game for a manager, even if it was just your presence serving as a support on court. Your eyes slipped down to your watch only for a moment, but it was enough for a disaster to occur. You felt your body clash with another. “I’m so-” “Watch where yer running, ya fucking idiot”, you really wanted to apologise, you really did. But obviously not anymore, not when the other person was shouting at you like that. “Excuse me?! And where the fuck did your eyes go, huh? And don’t you dare speak to me like that”, your finger digging relentlessly into this stranger’s chest, despite his posture being so much bigger than yours, rage boiling in your veins blocking successfully any feeling of intimidation. “Do ya have any idea who ya talkin’ to? Miya Atsumu of Inarizaki, ya pig”, he straightened up and lifted his chin, looking down at you with a half smirk. You, however, only raised a brow. “Ooohhhhh…”, you squint your eyes for a moment, tapping a finger on your slightly pouty lips. “Never heard of ya”, you gave him a wide smile as you continued your rushed steps towards another gym. “W-wait a sec!”, shit, you really didn’t have time for this, “I uhh, sorry? I thought ya were one of dem stalking fangals and uhh...”, it was clear he wasn’t used to apologising. “The way ya talked back at me was so freaking cool! Can I have yer number?” You were shocked that he dared asking you that after the insults he spouted. Even more so, when you found yourself tapping your digits into his phone.

Nekoma won the match. Not that it was surprising, you always believed in the boys, and you had believed in their plan. But now that the game was over, you were heading to have a sneak peek at your Crow friends. You didn’t expect the situation to be so dire. From the scoreboard, your eyes moved to their opponents and… oh shit. Preparing to serve was HIM, none other than self-proclaimed “THE” Miya Atsumu. He noticed you too, surely, because he was grinning your way and oh my god was it a wink? Because it definitely looked like a wink. The whole match was a pain to watch. It had you hyped, it had you devastated, it had you crying and laughing uncontrollably. But when Oranges finally won, indescribable joy overwhelmed you, while you screamed and jumped around. Sudden hand on the small of your back startled you, emotion quickly replaced with surprise and confusion when you saw Kuroo attached to it. He hadn’t touched you in 2 months. “C’mon, time for us to go”, he pushed you gently towards the door while staring down the blonde setter behind your back. His gaze said he was taking up the challenge.

In the evening, the whole team was gathered in front of the tv to watch repetitions, over and over again, and figure out a strategy. Honestly your focus only could last that long, mind already looking for distractions, when you heard a ding from your phone. [unknown]: Ya know, could’ve been less happy about our loss. ‘M heartbroken now. [Y/N]: That’s what you get for playing against my friends ;) who’s this, btw? [Miya]: Whaddya mean ‘who’?! It’s Miya Atsumu here! [Y/N]: Aaahhhhh… Never heard of him :D [Miya]: We gotta change it then “Maaaaan, I wish we could play against Miyas”, Yamamoto’s voice dragged you back into the room. “Yeah, me too”, Kuroo hissed through clenched teeth.

[February]

Recent weeks were crazy. Preparation for college entrance exams was consuming most of your time, along with your sanity. If only Kuroo was with you, he would surely tell you to take a short break, instead, your mind was spiraling into educational anxiety. Am I doing enough? What if I fail? What if I forget something? What if… the soft sound of a notification brought you down to Earth. Miya Atsumu sent you a friend request. Ah, right. You were overworking yourself so much lately, that you almost stopped replying to his texts, still you were sure to receive at least one every 2-3 days. Request accepted. Just when you were about to re-focus on the textbook in front of you, another notification came. Miya Atsumu liked your photo. Amused, you click on it only to discover the picture was from… 4 years ago. Reaction disappeared, however, almost as quickly as it appeared. On the other side of the line Atsumu’s hands were shaking and sweating, his face red, as his brain was sent into an overdrive. Oh no, oh no, ohnonono, what have I done, has she noticed, do I look desperate, what do I do now, whatdoIdo. But you never said anything about it.

[Miya]: Ya need ta relax once in a while, ya know? [Miya]: Stress ain’t bringing in results [Y/N]: Wow, so you can say something wise :0 [Miya]: HA. HA. HA. [Miya]: Now please wouldya get me? I dunno Tokyo too much. 10 minutes later you were scanning the crowd on the train station in search of a familiar blonde. It wasn’t too hard to find him, but unexpectedly… he had company. Of 2 other guys, including one looking exactly like him, except for a different hair colour. They were introduced to you as ‘Samu (apparently Atsumu was too nervous to go alone) and Suna (he would never miss a spectacle like this). “So where do you need to get to?”, Suna looked at his friend with amusement, and you could swear you heard his twin whisper “she doesn’t know?”. Suddenly you had a phone screen right in front of your eyes, pictures of your favourite cafe on display. How did he.... “I wanna take a certain gal here”, Atsumu tapped on the screen, his eyes focused intensely on yours. As soon as you shifted your gaze from his mobile to his face though, he looked away. “Let’s go then, I guess”

Having your favourite hot chocolate in your hands would have been relaxing, if not for the deafening silence and weird smirks between two extras. “Soooooo, care to explain what you’re doing here?” “Sightseeing?”, blonde sitting opposite of you looks quite adorable with the pink tint, hand on the nape of his neck. Wait, adorable? “Yeah, y/n here being the sight, OUCH”, Suna jumped in his seat, definitely kicked by Atsumu. Maybe he was right, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a breather from books and notes. On the other side of the window, Kuroo was clenching his fists, as he watched you laugh, not really sure of the reason behind his anger.

[April]

Being late on the very first day is a bad omen, you cursed as you ran through the campus. It was NOT your fault that it was so needlessly big. It also wasn’t your fault that you spent way too much time searching for motivation to attend this class, which was clearly added to the program to harass students. It was bound to be the most boring subject, you just felt it in your bones. You opened the door to the lecture hall as quietly as you could, and then tiptoed to the nearest free seat, eyes trained on the lecturer (you thanked gods she was turned back to the room). Luck was on your side, she hasn’t noticed. “Whatcha doin’ here, babe?”, a sudden whisper and lips barely brushing your ears made you jump in your chair. You almost screamed, but the man’s reflexes were almost inhuman, as he covered your mouth with his hand. Truthfully speaking, it might have been better to prevent your knee from bumping against the desk, because now you had all the unwanted attention. And a hurting knee. “K-Kuroo?!”, you whisper-shout back at him. “I knew we enrolled in the same university, but same class?” “I think this might be the only one, since it’s mandatory for everyone” You thought this course might actually be your favourite.

Obviously he noticed it. It was impossible not to, since the pisshead was a new follower on almost ALL of your social media. Not just a follower, no. He was commenting on nearly each photo, and reacting to every. Single. One. At first Kuroo was just mildly annoyed. Then angry. And then he could feel his blood boil whenever he saw his name under your post. He wasn’t going to tell you though how he checked every hour or so if you had replied. That day, when you both sat in your room, working on some early assignment (two heads are better than one), your phone was blowing up. Tetsurou knew who it was, he saw the bubbles popping up on your screen. You didn’t pay attention to them, much to his relief. On the other hand, Atsumu was going crazy. “Samuuuuuu, she ain’t replying!” “Samuuuuuu, ya think she’s on a date?” “Samuuuuuu, did I annoy her too much?” “Samuuuu….” “Shut up, Tsumu” “Y/N? Smile for the photo”, he laughed when your head snapped towards his raised hand, and your eyes opened wide. Kuroo pushed the shutter button exactly when you smacked his arm. “What the hell’s wrong with you?!”, notes and the search engine slowly reclaimed your main focus, partly because you wanted to hide a blush blooming on your cheeks. “Just wanted to commemorate our first study session in our university life!”, he mused as he entered First assignment with the best girl <3 - @y/n in caption and pressed <upload>. Let’s see if you react to this one, asshole. He didn’t.

[May]

[Y/N]: Are you okay? You’ve been awfully silent lately. [Miya]: ‘M ok! Didn’t want to bother ya. [Y/N]: Huh? [Y/N]: Why the sudden change? [Miya]: Idk, maybe I shouldn’t text “best girl <3” [Y/N]: Atsumu… You’re an idiot [Miya]: Am not! He was. He realised this few days later, right before hopping on a train to Tokyo. Or rather… his brother made him realise this. “Huuuuuuuh?! Whaddya mean I like her?! I mean, I do, she’s cool, but whaaaat?!” “Tsumu… Yer about’a get on a train ta see her!” “So?” “Yer an idiot” “Hey! That’s what she said too!” Looking back at it, that might have been true. Maybe. After all, he was on his way to a city 500 km away, just to see… a friend. Would he do that for just a friend?

He found you outside, and he swore it was the prettiest scene he had ever seen. Gentle breeze blew your hair, as you basked in the sunshine. With your floral dress you reminded him of a flower praising the sun. In that very moment he regretted he hadn’t bought you anything, not even some flowers. Not that they would compare to you. He watched you turn to him in slow motion, as if he was in a movie, and you were about to jump into his arms. You just smiled instead, but its brightness could rival the orb up in the sky. At that moment, he knew he was gone.

“So ya say… there’s anime about volleyball?” “Yes! And it’s so good! Seems pretty accurate too!” “Ya hafta show me! That’s so cool!”, he reminded you of a kid, with his eyes shining like glitter, and a smile covering at least half of his face.

He had exactly the same expression, when he suddenly stopped walking and you bumped into him, ice cream spreading nicely on your nose as he was taking a selfie of both of you. And then again at the train station, when he was worried his arms might have lingered a tad too long around your waist, but you didn’t pull back. Later, a screech could be heard in your room as that photo appeared on your timeline. With your name attached to it. In yer face, rooster bastard, Atsumu thought as he had clicked the <upload> button. Kuroo only scoffed, original much. But if that’s how he wants to play…

[July]

Lunch break was your favourite part of the day not just because it was, well, a break, and not only because of lunch. It was the time spent on talking, goofing around and stealing each other’s food, together with Tetsurou. That day, however, exhaustion took over and you couldn’t do much more than just lay your head on the cantine table, your hair a messy veil. “I can’t wait for summer break to come, I want it to come already! My brain is so tired” “Hang in there! It’s just 2 weeks of exams, and then we’re free!” “Why are you doing this to me, Kuroooooo” “I’ve always been a nice person” His hand was soft as he gently uncovered your face, strand by strand. “Wanna go somewhere and relax a little before all hell breaks loose?” Soft hum was the only thing leaving your lips as you melted into his touch.

The sun was merciless, as if its sole purpose was to burn the Earth to ashes. The fact that you were ankles deep in a stream and shielded by dense leaves didn’t help at all. Undeniably though it was soothing for the soul. “Okay, let’s move on”, Kuroo said, despite wanting to watch you forever. There was something about this relaxed expression that strung the cords of his heart. Yes, you looked happy. It took you too short a while to have shoes on and be ready to walk again. Summer breeze felt wonderful as you climbed up a rocky hill, scorching heat finally letting up a little. Temptation to just stand there with eyes closed and arms open wide almost too strong. Still, you let yourself submerge in it enough, not to notice a slippery boulder. You were preparing yourself for the impact, but instead, you felt a pull on your wrist and then a firm chest in front and a strong arm around your waist. “Please be more careful”, a whisper rather felt than heard, barely louder than a breath. This and his scent intoxicated you. “Let’s go?”

The view was magnificent. Just behind the hill, there was a lake, as clear as glass. Its naturally azure colour was tinted with golden afternoon light and rosy flowers covering the trees growing around the coastline. Some of the petals were floating on the surface, between the sun kissed shimmers. It was truly breathtaking, both of you wished you could stay in that moment. Neither of you noticed, none of you had let go of each other’s hand.

[Y/N]: Random thought. [Y/N]: What if I were a werewolf? [Miya]: … [Miya]: Are ya? oO [Y/N]: Hmm? Would it be a problem if I was? [Miya]: I… ‘m allergic to dogs… :( [Miya]: I swear I’ll get meds! [Y/N]: Wow, such a sacrifice! You would do that for me? [Miya]: I would even hunt squirrels for ya! [Y/N]: Squirrels? [Miya]: Or whatever werewolves eat [Y/N]: Wow, I’m speechless “Samuuuuuuuuu, she sent me a heart! A HEART!”, the fluttering in his chest was almost unbearable. “Shut yet mouth, ya simp! It’s 1 am!” He wasn’t a simp, of course not. Sure, he did watch whatever you recommended to him, and listened to whatever song you said you loved. He did research on things you had said were interesting, and rushed to his phone whenever it announced a new message. But being a simp? Him? Never.

[August]

If this wasn’t heaven, you didn’t know what would be. Warm sand under your back, cool water coming in waves to wash the heat off of your skin, and the sun watching you from the clearest sky. You heard a click somewhere behind your head, and opened your eyes to see your relative, showing proudly their creation. “You just looked so blissful, Y/N. Couldn’t help it”. You couldn’t blame them. You didn’t remember feeling this much at peace either. “Send it to me, please!”

Tucked gently in your covers, you were swiping through your gallery, admiring the pictures you and your relative had taken. After another round you finally decided which ones you wanted to share with the world, a mixture of landscapes, sunsets and portraits. As soon as you were informed about the post being up, you silenced your phone and closed your eyes ready to sleep… This might have been one of the best decisions you had made recently. You had never seen that many alerts on any of your content. Majority of these were from Atsumu, who obviously made sure none of your uploadings went unnoticed, which spread a warmth in your chest. What really caught your attention though, was how many times one particular picture was mentioned. Yes, the one on the beach. It was almost scary. {Kuroo}: Babe, you shouldn’t expose yourself like that, there are thirsty bois around. {Atsumu}: Who tf are ya callin’ thirsty?! {Kuroo}: Never said I was talking about you, but I guess I found one {Atsumu}: Listen here ya smug ass’ole, ya think yer funny? Suna only sent a gif of popcorn eating {Osamu}: Okay Y/N, as much as I find this exhilarating…just choose already, spare those two poor souls! Suna sent another gif, this time a very disappointed one.

Choose? Wtf does that mean? And then it hit you. Kuroo suddenly getting touchy again after distancing himself from you. His sudden clinginess whenever Atsumu interacted, phone in plain sight. Miya’s constant attention. His willingness to travel and never asking for anything in return. His eagerness to learn about anything you liked. Had you really been so oblivious for this whole time? Well, it could wait until you were back home.

Memories flooded your mind as you were typing the message, your heartbeat rate over the roof, your hands shaky, but you knew you needed to do this. For your sake. For his sake. One last glance over the text “I think it’s time for us to talk…” before you press <send>

Epilogue 1 - Kuroo Epilogue 2 - Tsumu Epilogue 3 - both

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

Text

Six Sentence Sunday

Thank you @oxygenforthewicked for the tag! <3

I floundered for a bit with what to share because...I have like NOTHING else other than sloppy, jalopy concepts! However! I found this in a document called ‘Mhairi spying hours’, and I was like, “OH! CHANGE OF PACE! >:D”

So, have some Mhairi and Dorian bonding hours as they play detective! (HOLY SHIT I WROTE ANOTHER CHARACTER OTHER THAN SOLAS PFFFFT!)

“...My brother’s in love.”, Mhairi whispered, body going lax with a sigh and tiny smile on her own lips. “...with Solas.” The idea made her chuckle a little, and she looked up when Dorian let out one himself.

“He’s absolutely besotted.”, Dorian said as he shook his head with another chuckle, smirking good naturedly. “You should come around when they kiss. Again, sickening.”

Mhairi blinked, tilting her head. “You don’t approve?”, she asked, but she only blinked again when Dorian let out a barking laugh.

“Hah! Oh, no, quite the opposite.”, Dorian assured, waving his hand a bit and smirking more. “After all, I’m in no position to judge. It’s just as you said, ‘With Solas’. I never believed either of them to be able to...well, operate as they do.”

Mhairi giggled a little. “Like an old couple, you mean?”, she prompted. Her brother and Solas did bicker back and forth. Almost religiously, but it never seemed like Fane held the grudges for long, and neither did Solas. It was interesting to her, but still had her...fearful. Why? Shouldn’t she be happy that Fane had managed to find a shelter as the world demanded he weather the storm?

“Precisely.”, Dorian agreed, nodding once before shifting his eyes downwards, gaze softening as it landed back on Fane and Solas, who were no longer talking; the mage having gone back to whatever work he had and her brother’s glimmering eyes tracing paint and plaster with a faraway look, but a small smile. “...It makes me wonder how they became so close.”

***

Dorian, don’t open that can of worms. I BEG OF YOU. Mhairi’s just...Mhairi. Confused, happy, but fearful of this development. >:3

Tagging (with no pressure~!): @noire-pandora @little-lightning-lavellan @aymayzing @shift-shaping @rosella-writes @varric-tethras-editor @dreadfutures @the-dreadful-canine and anyone else who’d like to share!

#six sentence sunday #my writing #dorian pavus #oc: mhairi lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #fane and solas have a BAD habit of openly doing things in the rotunda XD #dorian and mhairi peer over the railing every time to SPY #dorian just likes to the fuck with fane and solas on occasion #and mhairi is just like 'Why does my brother love him so much? I DONT UNDERSTAND!'#dorian just pats her head and says 'Some day you will dear fawn~'

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ayzrules-art · 3 years

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｢ I N T R O D U C T I O N S ｣ ↪ your oc’s backstory 2k21: e m o t i o n s e d i t i o n (1/???)

｢ prompts from @yourocsbackstory !! ｣

“Who are you?”

Mai was sitting on a bench under the shade of a willow tree. The sun was out, soft like morning dew; her husband was arranging for a carriage at the entrance to the park, and the air smelled of spring rain.

The child - the mortal child - was staring at her, wide-eyed with...well, it certainly wasn’t fear. Wonder, perhaps, or awe? Whatever it was, Mai felt a sliver of unease slither around her gut, apprehension hissing through her veins. Was this some far-fetched ploy of her husband’s, designed to catch her unawares?

Mai reached out with her mind - carefully, carefully - and probed gently at the boy, her shadow-spun magic murmuring in time with the rustling grass and whispering breeze. There was no sign of her husband’s influence within the human; no sign of the silken cold that crept slowly under somebody’s skin, numbing everything that made them alive.

Mai exhaled. The child was still staring at her, and Mai offered him a warm, if insincere, smile. “My name is Mai,” she said. “Where are your parents?”

He blinked. “I don’t know,” he replied, furrowing his brow as he considered her. “Are you an angel?”

It was Mai’s turn to blink. Then she laughed, as soft and lilting as trilling birdsong. “Certainly not,” she demurred, smoothing a hand over the front of her skirts and adjusting the lace-trimmed capelet settled over her shoulders. “Wherever did you get that idea?”

“Mother says all angels are beautiful,” the boy said, eyeing her skeptically. “And you’re not from here.”

It was hard to argue with either of those points. Mai found her thoughts drifting - entirely against her will, mind you - to flaming red hair and blue eyes that burned like molten starshine, alight with something glittering and wild and so, so different from the golden, lifeless beauty of the kingdom in the clouds that it made Mai’s un-beating heart stop.

Figuratively, of course.

“No,” she agreed. “I’m not from here. Have you heard of the Borderlands?”

The boy’s face scrunched itself up into a contemplative frown. “Demons live there,” he pointed out, accusingly. “Are you human then? You don’t look like a demon.”

My husband doesn’t either, Mai mused to herself, her gaze flickering to where the slender king of the underworld was paying for a carriage to bring them to their house in town. And yet, here we both are.

She supposed that she couldn’t fault the boy: mortals tended to think of demons as hideous, grotesque beings with leathery wings and twisted joints and deadly-sharp talons, something that Mai Mei - with her ink-black tresses and walking dress of snow-white watered silk and fine satin gloves that shimmered like liquid moonlight - was very decidedly not.

“I’m a queen,” she murmured instead, tilting her head to the side and regarding the human boy. “But only because my husband is a king.”

“What about the rest of your family? Is your sister a princess?” asked the mortal, and Mai shook her head.

“My family is dead,” she found herself admitting, fingers clenched tight around the handle of her parasol. “I never met most of them. Only my uncle and cousin, but my husband killed them.”

She paused, delicately. “I suppose I’m no better, though. I killed my first three husbands, and I fully intend on killing this one too.”

The park was quiet. The boy seemed bewildered, and Mai ignored him for the time being, instead glancing back toward the king of the underworld. Her eyes flitted over summer-golden daffodils and wistful lavender wisteria trees and carefully trimmed rose bushes, the petals flushed with pink sunrise. There was not a single blossom out of place, not a single speck of soil spilling out into the meticulously-laid stone path. And Devil help her, it was suffocating.

Mai stood abruptly, something in her chest tight and aching. She knew that mortals like this boy feared the windswept desert, where the deadly heat of the sun bled the land dry and the sovereign in the clouds was nothing but a faraway dream. But the long-eared jackrabbits and crawling centipedes and all the other creatures that made a life where the darkness was salvation were wily and stubborn and so much more alive than anything in this manicured garden of neat hedges and fluttering butterflies that hummed with springtime, trapped in this fanciful man-made paradise. It reminded her all too much of the glory-bright realm above.

“Mai, are you ready?”

Her fourth husband’s quiet, pleasant voice snapped Mai out of her reverie. His eyes glittered like icicles as they glided over Mai and the child, shining and sharp.

Mai nodded. “Of course,” she murmured, taking his arm. She turned back in the direction of the mortal boy, whose eyes were wide as saucers again - this time, though, Mai could feel his fear thrumming through the air, roiling like a gathering thunderstorm.

The king of the underworld gave the boy a dazzling smile. “Where are your parents, young man?”

Mai shook her head. “He doesn’t know. I’ll help him along?”

Her fourth husband gave a nonchalant shrug. “Alright. Be quick about it - we should be going soon.”

Mai reached with her mind once again, letting tendrils of her whisper-silk magic spiral out of her. She planted the suggestions in his head: find your mother. Forget about us.

With that done, Mai let the man who murdered her family sweep her out of the flowering park and into the waiting carriage, leaving the human boy under the gently swaying branches of the willow tree.

#yob6 #yourocsbackstory #oc backstory emotions 2k21 #shanmai #mai #run devil run #wrc #edit #writeblr #showcase

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lieutenantcharleslorem · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge Additional Tags: daforge - Freeform, AU, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Goblins, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Mermaids, Pirates Summary:

The Corsair ship Enterprise is not exactly a pirate ship, but they do what they have to to get by on the high seas. Without someone knowledgeable in steam mechanics that becomes even harder. Data is a gear filled robot who can be wound like a watch, and Geordi is merman who cannot see above water. But perhaps this odd friendship could solve some of their problems.

Hi! This was written for a commission for @datalaur. This takes place in a weird vaguely steampunk, D&D type universe where certain alien species names are interchangeable with mythological names like trolls and goblins, and everyone calls Data a robot. The world building isn't perfect, but I still think it's a good time. 💜 (Here’s a link to chapter two)

CHAPTER ONE

The sea rippled in the wind, and the ship creaked as the sails were turned.

“Captain,” said the first mate, “We can’t go on like this.”

“What do you want me to do, Will? Stop and ask for directions?”

“It’s not just that. When we go into battle, we can’t have you and the rob’ut shoveling coal.”

“There’s so much more to it than that.”

“Well then? That’s my point. We’ve got to replace O’Brien. I know you were holding out hope, but when we dock at the ninth port again, sure he’ll sing songs, and welcome us like old friends, but he’s not gonna be convinced to go back to the life of a corsair. Not now that he found someone who could love that ugly mug of his.”

The Captain sighed. “You’re right. But Data knows this ship better than anyone—”

“The rob’ut can’t fix himself, Picard,” Riker spat. He steeled himself and tried to speak more respectfully. “We need a new crew member. Even if he doesn’t know the engines, if he’s got a mind to learn, if he can figure Data’s gears, he can pick up slack. Because we need you both on deck, sir.”

“Captain, I’m afraid I have to concur.” The gears in Data’s shoulders creaked as he turned the wheel and changed their course. “Not only that we need an extra crewman, but that we should stop and ask for directions.”

“Data…” Picard said, frustrated, “Who do you suppose we ask. A siren?”

“I propose we anchor along this approaching landmass,” replied Data. “There are signs of life.”

Picard removed his spyglass from his pocket and took a look at the approaching shore. There was smoke in the distance and a path cut through the trees. There was no way to tell if these people were friendly, but they were certainly people.

But Captain Picard was nothing if not an adventurer. If he had been afraid to meet new and mystical species on faraway shores, he never would’ve found Data, or Worf. Even Troi was half Elvin, and they’d all learned to live with her mind trickery. While the old girl, Enterprise, was just beginning to take on this diversity, Picard suspected there were pirate and privateer ships in which humans were the minority.

When they anchored a few hours later, the crew was informed to sit tight while the Captain and Worf sought out the people to make sure it was safe.

The first thing Worf noticed about the locals was that they didn’t seem all that mysterious. They looked human. The only difference being that his humans kept themselves better trimmed.

“Trespassers,” said one of the men.

“We mean no disrespect,” said Picard, putting his hands up to show his open palms. “We’ve only lost our way. We don’t mean to intrude.”

“You have a Klingon with you,” said one of the women.

“This is Worf,” said the captain. “He is a friendly Klingon. He wasn’t even raised on the mountains of Kronos. He was raised among humans.”

Worf nodded. He resented his trustworthiness being equated with how human he may be, but now was not the time to be offended.

“What are you doing here?” asked the man.

“We’re lost,” said Picard. “We’ve been tasked to find the Goblin homeland. They’ve stolen some inventions—”

“They’ll gut you for your latinum.”

“Alas, we have none at the moment. We will be paid for retrieving the machinery.”

“They won’t stop to find out what’s in your pockets. They’d sell the clothes off your corpse.”

“We are familiar with the goblins, and their confrontation tactics,” said Worf, “Money is no doubt the reason for their thieving, not a hope for technological advancement. However, were they to sell to an enemy, the human government would not be pleased.”

“I see. Privateers then?”

“You could say that,” said Picard with a smile.

“Hmm, the kind of privateers who are also pirates, or the kind with a certain code of conduct?”

Picard and Worf shuffled their feet.

“It depends on your definition of pirate,” said Worf. Picard shot him a look that told him to keep his mouth shut.

“We definitely have a code of conduct,” Picard assured them. “You have nothing to fear from us. We’re only asking a little help…”

“You’ve gone too far,” said the woman.

“Excuse me?” asked Picard, wondering what he could have possibly said to prompt this response.

“You’ve gone too far,” she repeated. “That’s how you got confused. You went too far north. It happens. Goblins are southeast of us. We could maybe mark it on a map, but can’t say how accurate it would be. None of us are cartographers.”

“If you’re willing to look at a map that would be great. But you’ve already helped. Thank you,” said Picard.

“You look weary,” said one of the men.

“You might stay,” said the other. “Assuming you are not pirates.”

“Oh, oh that’s very generous, but we should be on our way,” replied Picard.

“Suit yourself, but Jeham used to live the ship life, and any chance to spend a moment on land was cherished later when the chances didn’t come. If you would like to stay a short while we would not object.”

“Well… I don’t know how much time we can waste. But we will tell the crew that they are free to explore for the time being.”

“Explore?” asked the woman.

“Would that be a problem?”

“No,” said the man. “But there are some areas that are… not as safe.”

Picard nodded, not wanting to make a fuss. “Worf, why don’t you go back to the ship and let the crew know we’re welcomed.”

“But Captain—”

“I’m sure I’m safe with our new friends, Mr. Worf.”

Worf looked back and forth between them, nodded, and disappeared through the trees.

“I never asked your names. I am Jean-Luc Picard.”

“I mentioned Jeham,” said one of the men, pointing a thumb to the other. “And my name is Di.”

“And I’m Reese,” said the woman.

That evening they sat around a large fire. Some stood, some walked around, but they fit nearly 200 people into a clearing, Picard’s salty crew mingling idly with this sandy group of families. The doctor had disappeared somewhere. The Captain hoped she was having fun. Data stood very close to the circle around the fire, wanting to be included, but not wanting to take a warm place to sit from someone who would be comforted by it.

“May I ask you a question?” said Data quietly.

“Only if we can ask a few back,” said Reese.

“Of course, please do. I was wondering, you do not look terribly different from us, and you speak human, but—”

“We are human,” replied Di.

“This is only a settlement,” said Jeham. “I used to work on a ship too, but I’d been looking for an out for a while when my ship stopped here. I decided to stay, after I met everyone.”

“Most of the originals came to get away from the black fog of the big cities. We live a little simpler here,” said Di.

Data’s face fell, if only minutely, and he said, “You came here to get away from machinery.”

“Perhaps, you could say that,” said Reese, “But we have no problem with machines. Only the smell of industry.”

“What are you?” asked Di, standing up to look more closely at Data’s skin, “A robot?”

“Yes.”

“Who made a thing like you? Is he with the crew?” asked Reese.

“No. My creator was lost at sea many years ago.”

Di reached out and ran a finger along Data’s forehead and down his nose. “You’re not like any robot I’ve ever seen.”

“I wouldn’t imagine we’re up on the latest trends, Di,” said Reese.

Di continued trailing his finger down Data’s face, and Data resisted the urge to shudder when he reached his lips. Though he would’ve preferred Di ask permission, he couldn’t deny that in some ways Data enjoyed the stimulation to his- his what, he wasn’t sure. He had speculated that he had artificial nerve endings, but it was far beyond the realm of any science in the land. There were rumors on the ship that Soong had not just used engineering, but magic to bring Data to life. But if it was true, that didn’t change that the robot still needed to be wound.

As the feel of Di’s fingers on his neck suddenly became absent, Data realized he had shut his eyes. He opened them abruptly and whispered. “I am… one of a kind.”

The captain cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should do a little exploring in the morning before we leave. Get some exercise before we have to be cooped up on the ship. If you could suggest any trails…?”

“We could take you to look at some pretty areas, but you shouldn’t go off alone,” said Reese.

“Oh, I’m sure we could handle any animals that might come our way.”

“It’s not that,” said Di. “You don’t want to go very far from shore. You don’t want to get near the water.”

“Water?” asked Worf, “What do you mean near water but away from the shore? That does not make sense.”

“There is something of a lake, but it drains in from the ocean and it is quite deep.”

“Everyone on our crew can swim… Except for Alyssa,” said Data.

“It’s not about that either. This is the good water.” Di gestured behind him. They couldn’t see the shore through the trees but knew it was in that direction. “It’s mighty shallow. Just stay away from the rivers and estuary. They’re deep.”

There was an awkward silence as they tried to figure out if they should keep asking questions, and then there was another voice in the darkness.

Troi walked up to the fire seemingly out of nowhere. Her skin appeared to glow in the fire light, and they could see the smallest bit of her brazier at the opening of a men's collared shirt that was a little too big for her. She whispered, “I get the sense you don’t actually want us to know why we shouldn’t see these deep waters.”

“It’s the creatures,” said Jeham.

“Jeham,” warned Di.

“What kind of creatures?” asked Picard.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of sirens,” said Reese.

Data cut in, “The captain mentioned them this morning.”

“Then you know.”

“I know of myth,” said Picard. “I know of imaginary creatures,”

“I doubt you’re so cynical. With a Klingon, and your mechanical man. You would question the possibility that sirens exist?”

“An entire race that is solely female and dedicated to killing sailors? I’m afraid it does cast some doubt.”

“They aren’t only female,” said Jeham. “And they’re not sirens… They’re merfolk. They’re just a species like any of the ones we’ve seen. We’ve all met groups of people that seemed scary,” he glanced at Worf, “and we’ve all met people with a special ability or two.” Now he looked at Deanna but looked away when she caught his eye.

“Well, now you make it sound like they’re just new friends to make.”

“No,” said Di. “People have tried. The merfolk seem friendly sometimes. But this is where the siren myths come from. They’re intelligent. They make you feel things. They can control your emotions.”

“I have no emotions,” said Data.

“Excuse me?”

“They could not possibly control my emotions; I am not capable of feeling emotions, as I am a machine.”

Di sighed. This conversation had gone on longer than he would have liked.

“Fine,” he said, “Chance it, Robot. But don’t blame me when you are dragged into the sea.”

“Well, perhaps if we have time,” said Data.

Troi slid into the circle and sat down in front of the fire. “Now what are the chances that you lovely people happen to have marshmallows?”

Things had stayed friendly and hours later, after everyone had agreed to call it a night, Data sat in front of the dying fire.

Since he didn’t sleep, he was often presented with extra time to occupy while those around him were unconscious. On the ship he usually continued navigating.

There was a pull on the gears of his ticking brain. Almost a tingle to his mind. He wondered, if he were human, would this be the need to be rebellious? After all, he was never a child, neither a teenager.

He needed, like an unquenchable curiosity, to go find the deep waters Di and the others had spoken of. He wasn’t afraid of what he might find there, for he couldn’t feel fear. Even if he could, he also couldn’t feel pain, so there was really nothing to be afraid of.

He got up quietly after the fire had gone out. He didn’t want to ruin their fire pit by extinguishing it or leave it unattended while burning. But now, in the light of only the moon he got up quietly and crept beyond the clearing, heading away from the shore.

It might have taken a biological being a few hours to navigate through the many trees and over jagged rocks, but Data did not tire, and found the estuary before sunrise.

The water here seemed different than that which he had sailed on for many years. This was eerily calm, and the moon shone off it in such a way that made it appear to glow.

Data sat down at the edge of the water, and waited. Nothing happened, but that was okay. He thought about navigation, and the mission they were on, and watched the sunrise.

Just as he was thinking perhaps he should return to the clearing, something in the water moved. Slowly a dark face emerged, with completely gray eyes, like nothing Data had ever seen.

“Are you waiting for someone?” the being asked.

“I suppose I was waiting for you,” replied Data.

“I've never heard your voice,” he didn’t look directly at Data as he spoke. “You don’t live here.”

“No, I’m a corsair.”

“I… I’m afraid I don’t know what that means.”

“I sail… on an independent ship.”

“You’re a pirate,” said the man in the water.

“… We don’t like to hurt people.”

“I’m not here to judge you.”

“What are you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“You are a merman?”

“If the name suits you.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Do you?”

“My name is Data.”

“A name befitting a mechanical man.”

“You knew I was a robot?”

“I can hear your body tick.”

“But you cannot see me.”

“Merpeople don’t see the same way land folk do.”

“Oh, I understand.”

“Mm, I doubt that.”

“Well, it is true that I probably cannot imagine how you process sensory input, but I also can’t imagine how any biological being does such things.”

“You experience your senses differently than everyone you meet, don’t you?”

“I have yet to meet anyone like me. Other robots do not…”

“They do not compare.”

“I suppose not. Some people think my creator was a genius. Others think he was mad. I’m sorry to say I am sometimes in the latter category… You never told me your name.”

“Geordi.”

“Is that a common merfolk name?”

“Not particularly.”

“I understand that you see differently than humans, but it appears as though you do not see me at all.”

“I saw you when I approached, but we are adapted to the water. We lose certain things above it. But others change. Everything is louder above water as well.”

“If I were human I would get in with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I would hold my breath, and swim with you, so we could see each other properly. But I can’t get water in my gears.”

“Sailing seems like an odd job for someone who can’t get wet.”

“Well, I can get a little wet. But it could be troublesome to be fully submerged. It’s correct that if I fell overboard, I would most likely die, but that is true of most of the crew when on the high seas.”

“You’re quite the interesting device, aren’t you Data?”

Data didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry,” Geordi said suddenly. “That was rude.”

Data smiled even though he knew Geordi couldn’t see it. Just acknowledging that it was possible to be rude to him was more than some people gave him.

“I’ve been called worse than a device,” said Data. “And definitely worse than interesting.”

“Well, you are. Interesting, I mean.”

“I find you fascinating as well.”

“I’m really interested in mechanology. I hope you don’t mind me saying. It’s just, that sort of learning is limited when you live in water.”

“I would imagine.”

“I’d love to get a look inside you. I mean… that came out wrong.”

“You do not have to worry about offending me. I have learned over my time as a corsair, that it is not the words, but the feeling behind them.”

“Well, I mean, I can’t really get a look.”

“Figure of speech, I assumed.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure it would be terribly invasive to… to…”

“Examine my mechanics? If it were something you would enjoy, and you would not change anything—”

“Oh, of course not! I would never tamper with you without your permission.”

“Then you may open the compartment on my back,” Data said, unbuttoning his doublet. “I only ask that you dry your hands first.”

Geordi’s eyes widened. “Yes, yes of course I will.” He floated awkwardly for a moment before scrambling to get up onto land with Data. He fumbled as he couldn’t see the edge of the rock. Hands reached out and took hold of him around the waist. If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve guessed them biological hands. The only sign that there was a difference was how effortlessly Data lifted Geordi out of the water, and sat him gently next to him.

Geordi’s tail hung off the edge and into the water but the rest of him was visible, and Data took in the details before handing Geordi a handkerchief and turning away from him.

He pulled the silk shirt he’d been wearing under his doublet over his head, not bothering with the buttons. Geordi finished drying his hands and felt out in front of him. He slid his hands down Data’s smooth back, finding in the middle, something like a key.

There was that feeling of Data being touched again, but this time it was invited.

“Does this keep you going?” Geordi asked, fingering the key.

“Yes, turned clockwise it winds my gears, but if you turn it counterclockwise—”

“I can unscrew it and open this hatch. And it won’t cause you any problems?”

“No.”

Geordi did as Data said, placing the key off to the side, and sliding open a door in his back. Data had of course been worked on and examined before, but this was somehow different. Geordi had to feel the parts to understand what was in front of him and Data could almost feel it himself. Geordi’s soft slick hands running along the springs and wires.

“There’s lots I could do back here,” Geordi said lazily fumbling over some screws. “Are you always so trusting with people you’ve just met?”

“No,” Data replied, eyes closed, “Never.” And it almost sounded breathy to Gerodi’s ears.

“Well, I’ll take this as a compliment… Ow.” Geordi pulled his hand away abruptly.

Data glanced back and saw Geordi put his finger in his mouth.

“You have burned yourself.”

“Nah,” said Geordi. “Just hurt for a second.” He went back to his examinations. “I see, so you breathe to keep this cool right here.”

“Yes.”

“It’s like you’ve got a little engine roaring away inside you. It’s amazing.”

“Do you… know anything about engines?”

“A little. I’d love to learn more.”

“Data!” said a voice in the distance. It was the captain.

“I have to go now,” Data told Geordi, like he was telling a playmate that his mom said dinner was ready.

Geordi nodded and shut the compartment. He felt around for the key before fumbling to screw it back in for Data. Once it was in he kept turning.

“All wound up.”

“Thank you,” Data whispered.

“Data?” shouted Dr. Crusher.

“I am here,” replied Data pulling on his shirt. “No need to go any further, I will come to you.”

He buttoned only a few of the buttons on his doublet before going to stand, but Geordi stopped him while he was still on his knees. He reached out and took Data’s hand.

“Will you be back?” Gerodi asked.

“Back?”

“Will I see you again? I’ve never met anyone like you.”

It wasn’t lost on Data that the merman called him one instead of thing. Data had to admit that though he had only known the being for all of 20 minutes, he wanted to promise he would be back. But it was not a promise he knew he could keep.

Data debated whether he would be overstepping a boundary for .3 seconds, and then decided to place a hand on Geordi’s cheek. “I will try,” he said honestly. Geordi shivered. “You are cold. You should return to the water.”

“Data, please inform us of your location,” said the captain.

“I will be right there, Captain.”

Geordi stayed on land for a few more moments to listen to the sound of Data’s footsteps as he walked away.

Beyond some rocks in the thick of trees and vines, Data found the captain and the doctor searching for him.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, Captain.”

“Out looking for mermaids, Data?” said the Captain with a smirk.

“Of course not, Captain. I would never go looking for something someone told me could be dangerous.” Data had recently begun to master facetiousness. He found it easier than sarcasm, because it didn’t require the same bite.

“Oh!” replied the doctor with a smile, “Of course not.”

“Well, I hate to interrupt our recreation, but we’re trying to get some maintenance done as quickly as possible so that we can be back on the sea before noon.”

“Captain, will we be coming back?” asked Data.

“Back?”

“To this shore…”

“There were no plans to. I know this is no concern of yours, but it depends on where our next meal is coming from.”

“I understand, this little village, of sorts, is not particularly profitable.”

Data was silent for the rest of the morning as they prepared to leave. He spared one passing glance at the shore as he steered the ship back onto the high seas.

With the locals’ changes to their maps they were able to find goblin territory faster than they expected. They came into port in the late afternoon as the sun was setting, and they had a plan before midnight. Goblins were ruthless, but they were also easily scared.

They would beat them at their own game, and retrieve the technology from right under their noses. Under cover of darkness, the captain, Riker, Data, and Worf, crept through the city. They took along a few crewmen who were new to the seas but could provide a little muscle. All of them pulled up their hoods against the rain. They’d been told before they came that it never stopped raining in goblin territory. But they hurried despite their discomfort. They could not be seen under any circumstances. This was not a place they could blend in. Their height alone would make them stand out to any goblin.

They inched into the building where they’d heard it was being held. They were fairly certain the goblins they’d interrogated were telling the truth. It had taken what little latinum they had left, but every goblin has their price.

Inside there were many locking mechanisms, but it was nothing Data couldn’t handle. Though he hadn’t been designed for theft, thieving from thieves brought exceptions. Being a corsair brought oh so many exceptions.

Coming down a hall, lit only by a torch, was the final door. Behind it should be the stolen machine. It was wood, and shorter than human doors, as had been all the doors in the building. It was covered in chains which the goblins no doubt thought were strong. Worf took a chain in hand on one side, and Data took it on the other. Pulling against each other like they might play tug-o-war, one of the links near the middle gave way and opened, and the chains fell apart.

The captain pushed the door open and ducked into the room. The device’s silhouette was monstrous in the darkness of the room, but Picard could tell they could get it through the door if they carried it on its side. After all, the goblins had to have gotten it in here somehow.

Squeezing it through the door and down the hall with the strength of a robot, a Klingon, a Bolian, and 3 humans was easier than expected. They shuffled out of the building, and were almost home-free when they heard a footstep.

A little clay colored boy with the biggest ears they’d ever seen screeched and pointed at them. Suddenly the sound stopped and the boy was on the ground. Worf had put down his corner of the device and hit the little goblin in the back of the head. He flinched as he looked at him. No one on the ship enjoyed when their adventures came to such things. Stealing and defending oneself was one thing but hurting innocent people never felt good.

“He should be fine,” whispered Data.

Worf nodded and picked up his end again and they were able to get it onto the ship uninterrupted.

As they rushed out of dock, wind in their sales, it almost seemed too easy. The simplicity was almost dreamlike, being so unsettling and anxiety inducing, that it was almost a relief when they heard goblins shouting in the distance. Something about profit.

And then, there was just enough light from the moons to see a ship gaining on them. It was a strange looking ship, with little cohesion, different colors and shapes that reminded them of other races they’d met along the way. It was almost as if the goblins had built the ship from spare parts of other ships they’d come across, purchased, or robbed.

The word Ferengi was messily painted on the side. It must’ve meant something in the goblin language, but they didn’t know what, and didn’t have time to think about it.

There was yelling and swift conversations as they heard cannons go off. Were they out gunned? Could they call someone for help? Goblins had always seemed so cowardly, but there had been a feeling in the air, and now it seemed inevitable that they had underestimated them.

While people on the Enterprise were loading cannons, Riker took the wheel, and the captain told Data to go change the direction of the sails. Data nodded and ran to the ropes. Just as he was finishing, he heard Troi shout, “What’s going on?”

“The goblins,” he replied. “Help with cannons!”

Looking at her when he spoke, he was caught off guard when the entirety of the Enterprise shook with a particularly well aimed cannon ball. The ship lurched, and Data tried to grab onto the rope, but his hands missed it by a centimeter. Data went toppling into the water, Troi running to the railing after him, but knowing there was nothing she could do.

“Data!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

He could hear faintly the water muffled warbling of Troi explaining to someone, “The robot, he’s gone overboard!” before he became waterlogged and shut down.

Data assumed this would be the end of his experiences.

-Chapter Two-

#star trek the next generation #data #geordi #daforge #faniction #Star Trek #Star Trek The Original Series #ST:TOS

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illshowyourhurricanes · 4 years

Text

Mississippi Delta Magic

Here’s another filled request, and it’s about our traveling music man with a heart of gold, soul of fire, and fingers of a true virtuoso-- none other than Ryan Brenner. And what a life he has to write about! This was requested by the lovely @witchygagirl as follows:

This one is actually unrelated to A Familiar Face or my other related one-shots, so it’s a stand-alone piece! Thank you for reading, as always, and enjoy!

Image prompt 11: Ryan Brenner x reader

Rating: PG for fluff and more fluff, with a side of fluff.

Word count: 1879

Tag list: @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @logan-deloss @lexxierave @madamrogers @yannii04 @gollyderek @carlaangel86 @bicevans @maydayfigment @thisisparadisemylove @malionnes @thesandbeneathmytoes @crushed-pink-petals-writes @delos-destinations @luminex3 @tenhargreeves @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @fific7

As always, if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list, just shoot me an ask or DM.

Special thanks to @something-tofightfor for beta reading!

“I went to the depot, looked up at the stars. Cried, some train don’t come, there’ll be some walkin’ done.”

When Ryan strummed his guitar, it was magic. The music floated through the air in D and A minor, an arpeggio of time that was broken down and descended. If you closed your eyes, you were sitting outside in Mississippi on a balmy summer night, dewy grass dampening your skirt as you watched fireflies blink out of time while you drank homemade moonshine. It was 1931 and Prohibition was in full swing, but your daddy didn’t care and neither did his backwoods friends.

Ryan’s smooth-as-silk voice and long fingers dancing and picking guitar strings was your backdrop, and you’d always find your eyes fluttering shut during that one particular song, fully invested in your daydream. A small smile would tug at the corners of your lips, and Ryan knew why. You’d told him about your little fantasy late one night after too much Bayou Teche. You’d gotten it shipped to chill inside the refrigerator until Ryan arrived, and by the time he was gone, each of you had halved the beer until all you had left was empty, brown glass bottles.

The Geeshie Wiley tune was one of Ryan’s standards when he was off busking between hopping freight trains to his next destination. He played covers mostly, and most people seemed to recognize Last Kind Words, even with a male voice singing the lyrics. You’d heard him play it dozens of times, whether out on the street surrounded by a small audience or the comfort of your front porch steps. No matter how many times, you were always transported back in time.

It had been a humid, cloudy night in May, spring melting into summer as you sat next to Ryan on your old wooden porch swing, hung by rusted wooden chains. Your eyes were heavy; you were drowsy and instead of Ryan’s guitar in his lap, it was a small black book and a old, chewed up PaperMate pen— no frills, clear plastic showing an ink cartridge that was two-thirds used up, cap off and stuck on the pen’s end.

Your eyes had drifted shut, your head resting on Ryan’s right shoulder. Almost asleep, you felt Ryan’s weight shift and the swing beneath you sway out of time. Eyelids popping open, you lifted your head as Ryan sat back upright, a scrap of sheet music pinned between his thumb and long, tattooed index finger. You saw that the paper was singed at the edges and just a partial page— less than half, the ink beginning to fade. Always learning about Ryan, you smiled softly as he tucked it back between two blank pages of his book.

“I didn’t know you could read sheet music,” you spoke, Ryan’s head turning to look at you.

“A little… sorry I woke you up, Y/N.” The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile as he looked at you with those eyes a few shades darker than chestnut. Reaching up, he softly brushed wayward hair behind your ear.

Drowsy eyes meeting his own, you shook your head. “I didn’t realize I fell asleep… what’s the song?”

Ryan closed his book, capped his pen, and the swing tilted as he set his notebook on the stained wooden planks of the porch. When he was upright again, he shifted in order to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you closer. You breathed in deeply, always trying to memorize his scent-- the organic smell of the outdoors, tinged with soap from his shower. He kissed the crown of your head before answering.

“ ‘S one that you know,” he spoke softly, in a low voice. The music of night-- the chirping of crickets, croaking of frogs, screeching of owls and rustles of leaves under the tiny feet of rodents all went unnoticed when he spoke. It was no matter that his voice was barely above a whisper. “I’d be bold enough to say it’s even a favorite… might be a favorite of mine if I was forced to pick.”

You thought for a moment, a small furrow settling in your brow. “That’s pretty general, Brenner. You sing Happy Birthday, and it would be my favorite.”

Ryan only responded with a chuckle; he was really playing this game. With a slight squeeze of your shoulder, he finally spoke, but only to set one ground rule: “Only yes or no questions, Y/N.”

The smile he’d put on your face grew into a grin; there was an infinite list of things you loved about Ryan Brenner, and his moments of playfulness were high up there. They accompanied your love for his introspective nature, the fearless lifestyle he lived with a streak of adventure, how his overgrown hair tended to fall over his forehead in the same spot, how his voice transported you to another time… another time.

“Last Kind Words,” you guessed, putting just enough distance between the two of you to look up at his face and gauge a reaction. Ryan’s lips quirked, and his brow raised slightly in appreciation.

“I didn’t know you read sheet music,” he joked lightly, punctuating the recycling of your words with a wink.

It was the littlest of things that still uncaged the butterflies in your stomach, the familiar fluttering of their painted wings flickering in your abdomen. All it took was an unconscious hum, or a quick meeting of your eyes with his… a wink to make you feel like you could fly.

“Do I win a performance?” Catching his eyes with yours, you knew he would see the ‘I love you’ there without words. Ryan was in tune with everything he was presented, attentive and never distracted. You paused, the look in your eyes changing from one of pride and internal laughter to a slight curiousness.

“You know the song,” you thought aloud, obviously introspective, “What’s a little scrap of its sheet music for? Burned at the ends, at that.”

Ryan hummed, and for one beat of time, you saw a faraway nostalgia in his eyes. “Somthin’ I’ve been carryin’ with me since I left Virginia.” Ryan never referred to home as anything other than Virginia. “Used to be a full sheet, too.”

You knew that there was a significance; a story. How much Ryan would reveal was the only mystery, and something you’d grown to appreciate. He expressed closeness and intimacy in his own, unique ways that you had learned to understand. And Ryan continued.

“When I was… let’s say, younger than ten, my grampa found me hidin’ in the garage strummin’ on his guitar. I was already figurin’ I was gettin’ the belt, but he just came an’ he sat down. ‘You don’t learn chords, boy, you don’t bother touchin’ it, ya hear?’ Later that night, he gave me this sheet, just part of the song, didn’t say nothin’.” He’d averted his eyes, found a thread in his jeans to pick at. “An’ when I was older, I started learnin’ chords.”

The nightsong began to get louder, you thought, as Ryan finished his story. Male crickets were getting more desperate for mates; so were the frogs; nocturnal predators were getting anxious for their prey.

“I’d hopped a train, got past the point of anyone findin’ me and it was the dead of winter. I was makin’ a fire, or tryin’, but the wind was howlin’, I was throwin’ things in the tin I was usin’ to keep that fire goin’ an’ I grabbed that along with a bunch’a stuff that didn’t matter. That’s the rest of the story.”

Finally, Ryan abandoned that loose thread from his denim jeans. Head still ducked, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. You offered him a shadow of a smile, searching his warm brown eyes.

Then, you took his hand, and with both of yours, turned it around. You surveyed his palm calloused from hopping trains, fingertips rough from guitar strings. You traced the lines of his palm— first the head line, located in the center, then his life line, and finally his heart line. Glancing up at him, your eyes landed on his lips, the small and almost undetectable smile of wonder crooking the corners of his mouth upward. His smile was contagious.

Turning his palm over to look at the back of his hand, you redirected your attention to his long fingers— tattooed horizontal lines just below his top knuckles, vertical ones inked between the bottom two. You brushed the pad of your thumb over the length of his index finger before lifting his hand to your lips and gently peppering tiny kisses over each of his fingertips.

In response, he gently took his hand back to use his index finger in lifting your chin. Everything I’ll ever need, he thought to himself in absolute certainty. She’s everything. Ryan drank in the color of your eyes, the slight slope of your nose, the shape and curve of your mouth. His eyes lingered there for a moment, and he used his finger to lift your chin higher.

Without hesitation, his mouth was on yours, passion and tenderness combined in the way your lips met. Ryan coaxed your mouth open with his tongue and a small, satisfied noise tumbled from your mouth into his, your heart rate skyrocketing. When he pulled back to catch his breath, he kissed the tip of your nose and then your temple, feeling the slight, rhythmic beating of your heart against his lips.

“We should go inside,” he suggested with a slight nod to the door. Tongue darting out to wet his lips, he gave your shoulders one last squeeze before sliding his arm from around your shoulders. “I have a craving, Y/N.” Your eyes widened in anticipation as Ryan paused, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “For a root beer float.”

Laughter spilled from your mouth, Ryan following suit with chuckling of his own. “Ryan Brenner.” You attempted saying his name in a firm tone, but failed. “You’ll get that root beer float, but not without payment first. You owe me a song for being such a damn good guesser, if I remember correctly.” It was your turn to smirk back at him, raising your eyebrows in faux haughtiness.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied readily, nodding as he did so. “Guitar’s inside.”

You stood from the swing and held out your hand. Ryan stood too, black notebook holding a memory in one hand, and in sliding his fingers between yours, love held in the other. The two of you made the few steps to the door as you sang lines of the song he’d be trading for ice cream.

“The Mississippi River, you know it’s deep and wide. I can stand right here, see my babe from the other side.”

Your voice didn’t transport you to the riverbank in the way his did, but you knew Ryan would guide you in your journey through space and time just as soon as he held his guitar in his lap and slid on his fingerpick. As always, you were ready, imagining the flickering of fireflies reflecting off the river, anticipating the antiseptic taste of unlawful moonshine, and waiting for the magic to begin.

#dani's 150 followers event #drabble requests #image 11 #ryan brenner x reader #did you hear that?#RYAN BRENNER

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kattenkvvaad · 4 months

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little chibi Whisper (she/her)

#oc #digital art #art #artists on tumblr #original character #fantasy #d&d #dnd #dungeons & dragons #dungeons and dragons #furry #tabaxi #catfolk #dnd oc #d&d character #dnd character #D&D:: Whisper of Faraway Lands #trails of parchment

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max-is-tired · 5 years

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Magic Mirror (Mirror’s Magic) Chapter 1

Pairing: Romantic Royality

Characters: Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, various OCs

Words: 5.002

Warnings: angst, blood, war, crying, magic, loneliness

Notes: Welp, here it comes! This is part of my fic for the TS Big Bang 2019! Or at least, it should have been -as I said, I haven’t quite managed to finish writing the whole thing, so I can’t post it all today. But I still wanted you guys to see it by the end of the month, so here we go, everyone hop on the angst train!! :D

Hit me up if you want to be added to the taglist and let me know if you liked this, reblogs, comments and asks are always very welcome and much appreciated! And if you would consider buying this broke college student a coffee (link in description) you’ll have my eternal gratitude and a thank-you ficlet of your choice, so there’s that.

(This story is heavily inspired by two Vocaloid songs. This chapter specifically is inspired by this cover of Rin’s Magical Mirror, by SirHamnet)

Commission me!!

Read on AO3

Go check @keuwibird‘s amazing art for this fic here!!!

First || Next

Sometimes, Patton finds himself dreaming of laughter and happiness, of sunny days and chirping birds. He dreams of a faraway land, untouched by war or famine, by misfortune or death.

He dreams and dreams and dreams, running through endless fields without a care in the world.

Those are the times when waking up hurts the most, when the memories fade away and all that remains is nothing but pain and an ache where his heart should be.

On days like those, it’s difficult to remain optimistic. Memories linger in the back of his mind, echoes of his old life filling the small wooden cottage he now calls his home.

On days like those, when Patton looks in the mirror, all he sees is a tired boy with blue, dull eyes staring back at him.

(Sometimes he wonders what his mother would say, if only she could see him now -his hair a mess, scrapes and dirt covering his body, his clothes reduced and nothing more than rags. She’d probably go full mother-hen on him, he muses with a small smile. Then he closes his eyes and shakes his head, locking those thoughts in some dark corner of his mind -he can’t think of her, of his family, of what he has lost and will never get back. If he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to get back up again.)

Today, though, Patton can’t help but wish it was one of those days. He wishes his dreams could have been filled with bittersweet happiness, with long lost smiles, with the faces of those he had once loved most. Anything, but the memories of that cursed day.

An explosion, that’s how it starts.

Screams, yells, the clashing of swords and shields filling the halls of the castle, blood splattering to the ground as the enemy’s force advances inexorably.

“Mother! Father!” Patton screams, desperate, confused, afraid.

“Run, Patton! Quick, before they find you!”

And he does, heart thundering in his chest as he turns and bolts towards the secret passage behind the throne -he found it when he was five, when everything was well and war was something he only heard about in fairytales.

He runs without looking back, emerging in the forest behind his home and not stopping until he trips on a branch, tumbling to the ground with a startled shout.

Patton lays there for what feels like an eternity, staring at the sky as sobs rack through his body -searching for a reason, just one, for all this violence and hatred and blood plaguing his home and destroying everything in its path.

“Why?” he chokes out, tears rolling down his cheek.

The moon stares back at him, silent, and Patton feels something inside him break and crumble to a million pieces.

Patton shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears from escaping out. He can’t let himself fall down that rabbit hole, because he knows there’s a great chance he might do something stupid -like give in to despair and finally let himself rot away, all alone in that abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere.

Taking in a steadying breath, Patton stands up and stretches his arms up, eyes sweeping on his surroundings.

He still remembers the state this cottage had been in when he’d first found it, crying and freezing in the middle of the night. Patton had basically passed out as soon as he had gotten inside, but once he’d woken up again, the light of the day had helped him better take in the place –it had been abandoned for a while already, clutter and dust filling the cottage and sending Patton into more than one sneezing fit.

He had spent the day cleaning and sweeping, trying to keep his mind off of everything –not that it had worked, in the end. Everything was still too fresh in his mind, the cries and blood and fire screaming endlessly in his head.

The first days had been… hard. After the first night, sleep had become its own hell. Between the nightmares, flashbacks, and loneliness, Patton had found himself hitting rock bottom hard and fast –sleep-deprivation and grief smashing and merging in his heart until all he could do was curl up on himself and let the tears fall.

Things had slowly gotten better though, mourning leaving the place to numbness, like a thick fog settling on his heart and never letting go. That had left too, with time –not completely, of course, he can still feel it creeping at the edge of his mind, but now it feels less like hopelessness and more like melancholy.

The cottage had become Patton’s home, the forest around him his entire world, the deer, squirrels and rabbits living in it his only companions. The war had kept raging in the distance, the only proof of its existence being the columns of smoke he would sometimes spot on the horizon or the occasional soldier passing through the woods –they somehow always missed the small cottage, blissfully unaware of the boy cowering inside of it with tears in his eyes and memories flashing in his head.

Almost a year has passed since the day Patton ran into the woods, and for the first time –despite the nightmares, despite the sadness and grief still dancing in his heart- there’s a tiny, sincere smile on his face as he lets the memories wash over him. Maybe, just maybe, he can finally start to move on.

Then, he lets his eyes sweep over the dusty mirror in the corner and lets out a shriek of surprise, ungracefully falling down the bed.

Patton blinks, eyes boring a hole through the wooden ceiling as he tries to make sense to what he’s just seen. He’s awake, right? He must still be dreaming, obviously, because Patton’s pretty sure that the boy who was staring back at him from the mirror a few seconds ago was, in fact, not him at all.

Patton frowns, pinching his arm and immediately after letting out a pained hiss. Nope, definitely not a dream. Then, what –or rather, who- did he just see, exactly?

Patton slowly gets up, nerves buzzing under his skin as he slowly approaches the mirror. Gulping, he moves to stand in front of it, eyes closed and heart beating wildly in his chest. He’s probably just being silly, he knows that. It was probably just a trick of the light, with the help of his still-half asleep brain. Now, he’s gonna open his eyes and all he’ll see will be his own reflection, same as every morning-

“So, are you ever going to show me those lovely eyes of yours?” comes a sudden voice from in front of him, drawing a surprised yelp out of Patton as he takes a few startled steps back. Eyes snapping open, Patton finds himself meeting the gaze of a boy who’s very much not him, white, red and golden robes flowing with a breeze he cannot feel as a pair of amused, forest green eyes stare back at him.

“There they are,” the boy chuckles, cocking his head to the side with a small smile, “I know I called them lovely mere seconds ago, but I have to admit that it doesn’t even come close to how breathtaking your eyes are. Only fitting for someone as stunningly beautiful as you, truly.”

Patton can distinctly feel his cheeks growing warmer by the second, wringing his hands in front of his chest as confusion, fear and a hint of curiosity clash and merge in his head.

“Who- Who are you?” he asks, his voice small and uncertain.

“You can call me Ro,” the boy says with a bow and a wink, the golden details of his robes catching on the sunlight coming from the open window, “I’m a magician, and wishes are my specialty. What about you, my dear?”

"I’m Prince P-” Patton starts, the familiar introduction already on the tip of his tongue, before catching himself, “ I’m Patton,” he finally says with a sad smile on his face, “just Patton. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve never met a magician before.”

“Patton, mh?” the boy –Ro- hums, tentatively rolling the name on his tongue, “a name almost as gorgeous as you, my prince.”

That last part makes Patton look away, smile turning bitter on his lips despite the small blush still present on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, but… I’m not a prince. Not anymore, at least.”

“You sure about that?” Ro asks, a chuckle escaping his lips as Patton snaps his head towards him in surprise. “I told you, my job is to grant wishes. Just say the word, prince Patton, and everything you’ve ever wanted will be finally yours.”

“Wha- for real?!” Patton exclaims, excitement evident in his voice as he unconsciously leans towards the mirror. “You’re not lying?”

“Of course not, my dear,” Ro says with a grin, “after all, I’m a magician meant just for you.”

“For me…?” Patton whispers, slightly in awe, “but- why me? I’m just a prince without a kingdom, a coward who ran away and left everything behind, I’m sure there are so many other people in the world who could use a blessing like this far more than I ever could!”

Patton doesn’t notice it, but Ro flinches almost imperceptibly at his words, sadness and something else flashing in his gaze for a second before he conceals it behind a kind smile. “Trust me, Patton, there is no one else in this world who deserves it more than you.”

“Are- are you sure?”

“Positive, my heart,” Ro says, “now, Patton, tell me –what does your heart desire most?”

For a moment, Patton feels overwhelmed, a million possibilities stretching in front of him. What do you ask for when you can wish for every single thing your heart ever wanted?

Then, he thinks of war and blood, of sorrow and pain. He thinks of his family, his kingdom, of happiness and laughter echoing in the halls of the castle, and slowly places his hand on the mirror’s surface, gaze bordering on pleading as he looks up at the magician.

“What can I ask for?” he asks, a spark of something growing in his soul –it makes excitement flow through his veins and his heart beat wildly in his chest.

“I shall grant anything that you wish for-” Ro answers as he places his own hand in front of Patton’s, a charming smile on his face and eyes full of a million promises –for a single instant, just one, Patton can almost feel the ghost of a touch on the tip of his fingers, warmth traveling up from his palm to his chest- “so won’t you chant for me from the other side of the mirror?”

Patton lets a grin stretch out on his face, eyes sparkling in barely concealed delight. He feels like somewhere far, far away from that little cottage in the woods, the wheels and gears of fate have just started turning.

“I think I know what my first wish will be!”

The spark in his soul is starting to feel a little bit like hope.

+++

“Can I wish for everything to go back the way it was before the war?”

“Well, there’s no limit to what you can ask, but-” Ro’s gaze turns hesitant, doubt flashing in his eyes as he turns his head to the side- “time is… tricky. It’s powerful, ancient, more than magic itself. Messing with it is dangerous, my heart. If I grant that kind of wish, you need to be aware –not even I can fully anticipate what the end result may come out to be.”

Patton’s smile dims but doesn’t disappear. “That’s alright,” he hums, nodding, “I can work with that.”

+++

“I wish for the war to stop.”

After Patton makes his first wish, Ro gives him a warning –he can fulfill it no problem, but it won’t be an immediate change. He’s a powerful magician, yes, but things like this don’t happen overnight. To see the results, they need to be patient.

“That’s okay!” Patton says, smiling at the young magician. “If it means the war will end, then I’ll wait for as long as it takes.”

Ro nods, smiling in response, and waves his hands in the air, foreign words slipping out of his mouth as red sparks fly around him –Patton can almost feel the moment the magic happens, like a switch being turned as something new clicks into place in the fabric of the universe.

After that, they wait –but not for long.

The news arrives around a week later, in the form of a caravan passing through the woods, bringing to the people of the kingdom the joyous news of a peace treaty finally being signed between the two fighting forces. They don’t see Patton, as it always happens, but Patton sees and hears them, a grin stretching on his face as he sprints back into the cottage.

“Thank you thank you thank you!!” he yells as he hugs the mirror, tears streaming down his face –for the first time in a long while, they’re tears of joy, heart bursting with happiness in his chest as the realization that this awful nightmare is finally over dawns upon him.

“There’s no need to thank me, Patton,” Ro says, a soft smile on his face, “it’s your wish that did this.”

Patton sniffs, shaking his head. “But your magic is what made it possible in the first place! Without it, this might have never happened. I- goodness, I don’t think there are enough words to express how grateful I am, you- I’m-”

Tears blur Patton’s already foggy eyesight, the occasional sobs making it difficult for him to keep talking. Inside the mirror, Ro’s smile turns softer still, murmured words slipping from his lips as his magic takes the form of a gentle red wisp. With a wave of the magician’s hand, the wisp flies out of the mirror towards Patton’s face, softly caressing his cheeks.

Patton gasps at the sensation, letting out a startled laugh as he feels the magic tenderly wipe away the falling tears.

“Awwww!” he coos, watching the red wisp fly in the air around him and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. The magic feels playful as it glides around, wiggling as zipping through the air and messing Patton’s hair up. The boy lets out a giggle, tears forgotten as he spins around to follow its path.

“Your smile shines more brightly than a thousand suns, my prince,” Ro says, smile so soft and gaze so earnest it makes something warm spread in Patton’s chest. “Happiness looks amazing on you. I can only be humbled by having been able to bring something so beautiful to the world.”

“Oh, shut it, you flatterer,” Patton grins, gaze focusing on the red wisp of magic still flying through the air of the cottage as his cheeks burn a pretty shade of red.

“Is it flattery if I’m only saying the truth?”

The way Patton’s eyes widen and his cheeks bloom an even brighter shade of red makes Ro only want to compliment him more, a boisterous laugh escaping his mouth as he watches the boy sputter and wave his arms around in embarrassment.

Distantly, he wonders how long has it been since someone told Patton how beautiful he is.

+++

“I wish for my parents to be alive and well.”

News of its beloved king and queen’s fates travels through the kingdom rather quickly, moving from village to village as the story of their imprisonment by enemy forces reaches even the farthest border in less than a week. The news of their freeing thanks to the treaty makes even the poorest farmer rejoice, making the realization finally sink in even for the most skeptical: the war has finally ended.

They’re free.

Festivities run rampant in the kingdom, people working on rebuilding what was destroyed and mourning what was lost. The royal family works hard to give its wounded kingdom and people what they need to put themselves back on their feet and finally start working towards recovery, but both the queen and king are also mourning the loss of their son, the prince, whose fate no one seems to know.

Their pain is short-lived, though. As soon as the news reaches his ears, Patton basically sprints out of the cottage and into the woods, jumping branches and zipping through the trees with the expertise only someone who has grown to know the forest like the back of their hand can have.

He doesn’t slow down even as he runs through the capital and people call for him with startled shouts and surprisingly delighted yells, his blonde hair and blue eyes impossible not to recognize. He doesn’t slow down as he passes through the gate of the royal castle, the guards too stunned to think of stopping him, or as he dashes through the familiar hallways of his old home, his quick steps and heavy breathing bouncing on its still crumbling walls as he makes his way towards where he hopes his parents will be.

Patton only stops when he not-so-gently barges into the throne room, where his parents and what remains of the royal council seem to be discussing something important –not that it matters too much, the king and queen immediately dropping everything as soon as their eyes land on Patton.

The prince stares at them, panting and sweating, before something between a sob and a wail leaves his lips and his legs push him forward once more.

His parents meet him in the middle, his mother enveloping him in a crushing hug as tears fall freely down both of their faces. Patton feels his father’s strong arms enveloping them both, his laugh resonating in the room as he lifts them both and starts spinning them around the room.

Patton’s delighted laugh mixes with his mother’s, happiness exploding in his chest like a million fireworks, and he wonders how will he ever be able to repay Ro for all he’s been doing for him.

(Over the throne room, hidden by the shadows of the crumbling ceiling, a familiar red wisp of magic zips through the air, watching over the reunited family.)

(Far away from the castle, inside a little cottage in the woods, Ro looks through the wisp at Patton’s smile and lets his own tug at his lips, in stark contrast with the fresh tears falling down his cheeks. Quiet happiness and raging sadness clash and collide in his chest, squeezing his heart like a million vines, and he gives himself a moment to just let himself feel, pain and guilt running rampant in his soul with the silence of the woods as his only companion. Then, he steels himself once again, wiping away the tears with the edge of his sleeves. After all, there’s still some work to do.)

+++

“I wish for our resources to be enough to feed our people and rebuild our kingdom, for sickness to not touch us, for famine to be far away from our land.”

Our land is strong and fertile, most say as the earth keeps giving and resources never dim.

It’s a miracle, the people whisper as the sick and frail all recover and get back on their feet.

It’s a blessing, the kingdom cries as what was destroyed gets rebuilt and all traces of the war slowly disappear.

No, Patton thinks as his home flourishes one again in front of his eyes, tears prickling at his eyes and a knowing smile on his lips, this is magic.

+++

During his first night back in the castle, after reuniting with his parents in the throne room, Patton tells them about his escape through the forest, about the little cottage in the woods and the year of loneliness he went through. He tells them about the woods that had grown to be his home, about the animals that had kept him company even in the darkest of nights, about the river flowing just a few feet behind the house and those little bushes who were incredibly difficult to find, but bore the sweetest of berries.

What he doesn’t tell them about, is the mysterious magician living inside the mirror, the young boy with twinkling green eyes and a dizzying smile who has given Patton so much and asked for nothing in return.

Not that he doesn’t want to! It’s just… he doesn’t even know how to start explaining everything and besides, his dad has never been too fond of magic and Patton doesn’t want to make him worry or worse, have a fight with him –not now that they’ve just reunited, not after a year believing he would never see his parents again.

So he keeps Ro’s existence to himself, holding this little secret tight to his chest as he tells them about the dusty, old mirror sitting in the corner of the cottage, about how he got attached to it and he would really like to have it with him, in his chambers at the castle.

His parents are more than a little confused by his request, if not somewhat suspicious. Patton doesn’t miss the wariness flashing in his father’s eyes, the way his expression turns into a pensive frown as he shares an uncertain glance with his wife. For a moment, he fears they’ll call out his bluff and demand an explanation, press and press until the truth comes out –he fears they’ll take the mirror away, forbid him from seeing Ro ever again.

But that doesn’t happen, the wariness replaced by soft sighs and a nod. They may not understand, but that mirror seems to be really important for their son –that’s a more than enough reason for them to grant his wish.

And so here he is, not even two months after his first wish has been granted, sitting in his room as he giggles at something Ro has said. They’re both happy, grins stretching on their faces as laughter fills the atmosphere around them.

There’s something burning in Patton’s chest, a feeling that sparked to life when he met those deep, green eyes for the first time and only grew with every grin, every laugh, every quiet moment shared in that little cottage in the woods.

It feels like amber flames licking at his soul, like warmth spreading through his body, like butterflies in his stomach and happiness in his heart.

It feels like love, and it makes Patton’s heart ache and yearn like nothing else.

+++

“Are you happy, Patton?” Ro asks sometime later, startling the prince out of his thoughts.

“Of course I am!” Patton says, clearly confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You looked… distant, for a second,” Ro explains, searching for the words to best describe what he means, “melancholic, I’d say.”

Patton blinks, taken aback. “Oh,” he says, because how do you respond to something like that when he hasn’t even noticed it himself?

“Is there…” Ro tentatively begins, hesitant in his question as he gives the other a questioning glance, “is there maybe another wish you want me to fulfill for you? You know I won’t mind, right? It’s the reason I came to you, after all.”

Patton thinks about the surge of warmth he feels every time he looks at Ro, about the dreams filling his nights and those wishes he hasn’t shared even with the boy he now calls his best friend. He thinks about the arms he wishes could surround him, about the hands he wishes he could hold and the smile he wishes he could kiss.

Then, he smiles, shaking his head.

“As long as you’re with me, there’s nothing else I could ever wish for.”

(Little does Patton know, that’s the moment Ro feels his heart shatter in his chest.)

+++

The last six months have felt like something straight out of a fairytale for Patton, like the ones his mother used to tell him when he was a kid, just before tucking him in bed and kissing his hair, before sleep overtook him and dreams filled his head.

Patton feels like he’s finally found he prince of his dreams –he sees him every time a pair of forest green eyes meet his gaze, every time white, red and golden robes glint behind the surface of the old mirror in the corner of his room, every time red wisps of magic fill the air and a dazzling grin makes his heart race in his chest.

But like every story his mother told him, even this one has to reach his ending.

And this time, there’s no happy ending in store for him.

+++

“… What?”

Ro gives him a sad smile, eyes melancholic as he repeats one more time those four cursed words.

“I have to go, Patton.”

“But… where? Why??” Patton asks, clearly taken aback, “when will you be back?”

Ro shakes his head, looking away. “I won’t, my prince.”

“No…” Patton whispers, before throwing himself toward the mirror and placing his hands on the glass, “no, please! You can’t leave just yet, not like this.”

“Patton, please-”

“No!” he yells, tears flowing down his cheeks, “I refuse to say goodbye- I won’t!”

Ro looks on the verge of tears, eyes wet and sad as he puts his hands in front of Patton’s –for a second, they’re back at the beginning, in that little cottage in the woods where Ro smiled at Patton and everything changed forever. For a second, they both find themselves wishing they could go back to that single, magical moment.

Sadly, this is one wish Ro cannot make come true.

“Please-” Patton begs, voice breaking as sobs rack through his body- “please, don’t leave my side.”

Ro shakes his head, his own tears falling down his cheeks as his smile turns downright heartbroken.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, leaning his forehead on the mirror, “I’m so sorry, Patton.”

“Why?” Patton asks, desperate.

“Because if I don’t, then it will all have been for nothing.” Ro answers, “because if I stay, I will only hurt you, and I can’t bear the mere thought of it.”

“You’re hurting me by going away!” Patton argues and yeah, maybe it’s petty and unfair and absolutely, utterly selfish, but he can barely bring himself to care. if it means Ro will stay, then he’s ready to do almost anything. “Please, I can’t- I can’t lose you. Please.”

He can see the resolve breaking in Ro’s eyes, the heartbroken expression taking over the magician’s face as he seems to be physically restraining himself from breaking down completely.

“Patton, if I stay, everything will go back to how it was before.” Ro finally reveals, gaze falling to his feet as his arms wrap around his waist in a desperate attempt to hold himself together. “All your wishes, all the good and happiness they brought… it’ll all disappear, forever. I can’t let that happen, Patton, I can’t be the cause of your despair. Not again.”

It’s Patton’s turn to fall silent now, tears still falling down his cheeks as he registers Ro’s words.

“What?” he whispers, taken aback. “Not again? You’ve never hurt me, Ro, what are you talking about?”

This time, Patton doesn’t miss the way Ro tenses at his words, arms tightening around his waist as he hunches on himself and shakes his head -as if trying to physically protect himself from something buried deep inside his mind.

Still confused, the prince stares as Ro takes in a few deep breaths, slowly straightening his back as he appears to steel himself –for what, Patton doesn’t know, and a little, frightened voice inside himself whispers that he really, really doesn’t want to find out.

“I was scared,” Ro finally whispers, eyes still fixed to the ground, “I was scared, alone, and so, so tired. Everything was crumbling, my life, my home… I just wanted it all to stop. When he arrived, he gave me someone to blame, someone to be angry at –and like a fool, I believed him.”

When Ro finally looks up, his eyes are red and puffy, fresh tears streaking down his cheeks. “I was selfish, I was greedy, and because of that I hurt you in ways I will never forgive myself for.” He lets out a melancholy chuckle, lips stretching into a bittersweet smile. “Everything that I gave, was only given to repay. You showed me a side of life I would have never dreamed to see –your kindness and love will always, always inspire me to do better, be better.”

With a wave of Ro’s hand, a familiar wisp of red magic leaves the mirror, flying to Patton’s face and tenderly wiping away his tears. “I will never forget your smile, your laugh, that twinkle in your eyes you get when something makes you happy. And I won’t forget your tears, your sorrow, even if they break my heart –so that I’ll never make the same mistakes again.” His expression morphs then, sadness momentarily leaving the place to tenderness as his gaze turns fonder still. “May I ask for one last promise, my heart?”

Patton wants to shake his head, vehemently say that no, he won’t promise anything because Ro can’t go, not yet, not now that all Patton wishes for is to have him by his side forever –as his consultant, as his best friend, as his soulmate.

And yet, he doesn’t, doing his best to keep his sobs at bay as he gives Ro a small, shaky nod.

“Keep me in your memories, my sunshine, and think of me, once in a while. But never with sadness or grief. Think of me as you would of an old friend, with fondness and maybe love, if you believe me worthy of it.”

Ro smiles, bowing at Patton as cracks start to appear on the surface of the mirror.

“I love you, prince Patton. Goodbye.”

Crash!

#sanders sides #royality #patton sanders #roman sanders #patton angst #roman angst #(more in the next chapter eheheheheheh)#angst #angst with a happy ending #crying #blood mention #war #magic #magic mirror au #fanfiction #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #maxiswriting

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paenumbra · 4 years

Text

𝖔 𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗;

What finally led Calder Grau to his father’s door was a thorn wedged just beneath his skin. It had always been there, a dark spot, taking root, festering, just below the surface. The needling question of Enoch Morcant had been one he was satisfied to leave unanswered, an unmarked grave, overgrown and forgotten. But after he’d ventured down a hundred dark, dead-end corridors (the only corridors offered to a man like himself) and come up empty-handed, he resolved to pick up a shovel and dig.

Enoch Morcant was a seaman of ambiguous character, ranked as an AB with the British Merchant Marine. According to fellow mariners and neighbors, he was a “legless man” on land, replacing the slosh of the ocean for that of sour-mash whiskey. When he wasn’t propped up in a pub near the docks, he was selling pilfered goods in the alley behind it — ever the sly profiteer with unfathomable pockets! When Calder first laid eyes on the man, bile rose to the top of his throat and, despite the heat of summer, a chill rattled down his spine. What Calder saw before him was his past, his present, and his future; a sad mosaic followed by the swimming sensation of deja vu as the dim kaleidoscope of his low-born potential spun out in perpetuity. Before him was a bastard like himself, composed of the same dense, phantasmal soot.

This fetid blood w e i g h s a man down to the s e d i m e n t .

Upon introducing himself to his father, Calder refrained from revealing his true identity; it was no surprise, however, that Morcant rarely entertained conversation that wasn’t about himself. Besides — in an arrogant haze made thicker by spirits, another man’s barrage of compliments and questions seems harmless (especially when lubricated by a solicitous tone). Calder learned quickly that his father was intelligent like him, the way a stray dog is intelligent. He was all hackles, calloused footpads, and bright, gleaming teeth — with a keen knack for knowing where and when to strike unsuspecting prey. For decades, Morcant had wielded such bastardly tools in order to survive, but unbeknownst to him, his son had mastered the trade.

Over the next year, Calder angled himself closer to his father, learning all he could. Strategically, he picked his old man’s brain to learn the comings and goings of manning a ship, watch schedules, rigging sails, tying knots, even the duties of a boatswain. With a prospect like the HMS Promethean looming and in need of a crew, it was his intention to find work on board, to use his father’s threadbare clout to his advantage. More than anything, Calder simply wanted to escape.

A month before the HMS Promethean was set to sail, everything changed.

“Have ya a pint.” Morcant shoved a mug at Calder, painting the scarred table-top with its contents.

“The sun’s barely set, old man,” Cal chided, taking the offering all the same.

“You’ll not tell me how to drink, boy.”

“I’ll not carry you home either.”

A guttural grumble followed. Morcant’s face, awash in lantern-light, was ruddy and swollen from drinking. Dribble bubbled on his lip, a fine white and feral foam. Cal had seen him like this a time or two: his faraway eyes glazed in something sinister, fixing all in his path with a wayward leer, and his throat slick with dagger-sharp words.

“You wouldn’t cross me, would you?” It was a warning, a growl. Eyes, the same faulted blue as Cal’s flickered, attempting to steady on him.

“I’m neither Chaplain nor fool,” he teased. “Come, let’s have peace while we drink. I’ll not fight with you.”

The old man simmered audibly, settling back in his seat.

“I know your plans to join the crew of the Promethean, and I know it’s why you’re here.”

There was a spell of silence; Calder’s stiff confirmation. He revealed nothing, though, easily meeting a proffered gaze (too much like his own) over the brim of his glass. His father’s countenance showed vestiges of handsomeness, but that had been distorted by years in the sun, hard drinking, and an unresolved lonesomeness. Morcant took a deep breath through flaring nostrils — it was as if, all at once, he’d come to a necessary conclusion, but an uncomfortable one. He twisted, then, as if adjusting to the stab of a gun against his spine, but pulled out a leather-bound scroll case which he’d wedged behind him.

The reveal’s fanfare was muddled when Morcant dropped the carrier on the table. Frayed leather string that held it fast let loose and a thick coil of documents flooded out: maps strewn with coordinates, a busted brass compass, ancient book pages, schizophrenic scrawl on fragile paper. As Cal’s mug and its contents clanged on the floor at his side, he pushed forward to take it all in, picking apart the pages in a trance. Some would look at such a collection and see folly: the culmination of madness, the pathetic reflection of a mind ever circling a drain. But Calder looked on with hungry eyes and a ruinous bloom exhaled inside of him.

“Where did you —” Morcant seized Cal’s wrist and twisted until he relinquished the maps; the antique pages fluttered dryly as they fell to the table. “You needn’t worry,” he promised on a low breath, acrid with yeast. “The man I stole ‘em from won’t come lookin’ for ‘em.” He managed to sound threatening and conspiratorial all at once: “I made bloody well sure of that.” Morcant believed he had a willing thrall in Calder; for no other reason would he dare share such intel. But susurrous whispers of admiration had woven a ragged noose around his neck over the last year, and Calder’s long-game had landed him in an even better position than he’d bargained for.

#✗ — ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ɢᴏᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ʜɪꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴛꜱ. ( ᴍᴜꜱɪɴɢꜱ. )#from the app

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delicrieux · 5 years

Text

amortentia [young!tom riddle x reader] -final-

premise: two students start developing feelings for one another despite having too many secrets to count.

tagging: @cheshirecatbyul @junieyes @whaledenwtf @xoxomioxoxo @cherryvblossom @adidabach @sissieliang @patronusfire @rianrawr @gravitygemjj @aquariemm @storiiteller @fortisfiliae @imagines-all-day-everyday @redrupees @kurara-black-blog @pleuviors @songforhema @zaybmocx @justeveeeee @importanttyrantruler @sissieliang @milkchocolatepretzel @wontyoustandbyme

warnings: angst, sexual themes, descriptions of death, very morbid + disturbing imagery

a/n: this had been brewing in my mind since i read les diaboliques! thank you all for all the wonderful comments and kudos and all that jazz. truly. i started this project because there were no tom riddle fics, and if there were they were not nearly disturbing enough for my tastes. this last chapter is from tom’s point of view and i think you can already guess why. let me know what you think! thank you again for this amazing journey. it is finally time for the curtain to fall. p.s. thank you immensely to my seraph @macchiavellii for the aesthetic. divine, as per usual.

xx d

amortentia masterpost | masterlist | support me | commissions! |

10. The Crimson Curtain/ Odette

There is not enough substance in this world to feed Tom Riddle’s desire for power – power over things that cannot be controlled, and power over people that simply adore him. He had always fancied himself completely in control; since moving to Hogwarts, he had built a new image of himself, a skilfully crafted mask that no one would question, or peer behind it if they did. He is charming, and handsome, and devilishly sly, yet he presents a tender disposition of a diligent student – everyone’s dream. To him very few things matter and nothing matters very much. Yet there is this girl from his house, this gentle, naïve creature that had enough heart to defend him from bullies that years later would worship him on their feet; the same, graceful, roseate cheeked figure giving him the upmost respect and adulation of which she, herself, has none. He was her first everything and he knew this and held this secret with silent pride: her first love, her first kiss, her first everything. And as fitting, or so he thinks, clearly and coldly, it started with him and it shall end with him – she will die in his hands like a swan taking her last bow on stage, in her prettiest white dress and refined movements, so precise they are hurtful, and it will be the most beautiful thing to witness and he anticipated that moment with bated breath and morbid, dark eyes, wild with wonder, drunk on lust.

The days slip by slowly at the Riddle Manor, its strange halls dark and the outside fields misty. The roses that had bloomed in the garden had wilted from the harsh wind; alien grey clouds dotted the sunless sky like a picture void of all colour, of all happiness. Then it got hot again, humid, the stench of old wood and the lingering whiff of death and blood floated in these halls as if a permanent tenant, unable to leave, bringing nothing but a sense of melancholy and acceptance. The nights are cold, bigger than imagining; black and gusty and enormous, disordered and wild with stars. It brought a sense of tranquillity, its vastness, though a looming sense of finality, too. (Name) had long ago accepted her fate as a soul to be sacrificed to the Mighty Death itself and Tom had no qualms about that: she accepted it with his first tender touch in confession, accepted it again on the train ride to Little Hangleton, and reconfirmed it with a scorching, delicious kiss. He wanted to devour her like Saturn devoured his sons, like Goya in fretful grey-brown colours depicted on the verge of his madness. He could not share her with anyone else; she is too precious to even bathe in the curious eye of anyone else. It pained him horribly to even imagine it.

Her room is on the second floor, the very last one, spacious and adorned with viridian sheets and cheerful depictions of the Victorian past via paintings framed in glossy wood. Her window overlooks the dead roses and the faraway cabin of the caretaker, who, for days oblivious, stumbles about his home, in his mind certain he had conversed with the Riddle family and watered the flowers, cut the grass, cheerily gave the children candy he used to love as a child himself. A red curtain, satin, soft as her skin, hung above the aforementioned window, swayed from the breeze. They had spent many nights within this room, it now trapping many whispers and groans of his name, embedded into the walls, into the pillows, and the taste of kisses and metallic blood only fuelled this famishing carnal desire.

And it is dark again and he is drawn to her door like a soul is drawn to the afterlife, feeling, in a dreamlike state, the air tonight being electric and different. The hallway is shadowy and he makes no sound as he moves to the handle, his hot hand burning from touching its cold metal surface. The door opens with a ghastly creek and he enters the cool, moonlit room. She sits on the edge of the bed, staring somewhere outside the open window, a candle burning on its sill and flicking with the curtain of rouge behind it, twirling, caressing the air in its sensual dance. She slowly turns her head to him, her features lily-like, submerged in water; she appears as a seraph that climbed down from heaven to wait for him by the foot of the bed. Though this seraph, this divine, lovely creature has its wings clipped, and blood streams lazily from her nose, drips on her nightgown, appearing black in the shade.

“Were you waiting for me?” He asks, knowing the answer. She faintly nods, tilting her head and watching her feet with an empty, lonely look. He approaches her vigilantly, not yet ready to let go this picturesque, medieval image of her, so waxen, so completely lifeless. He sits next to her, his hand coming to rest on hers. Hers feels like marble, cold and sculpted. He brings the hand to his lips, kisses it softly, thinking he shall warm it with his caress, all the while watching her closely in wonder and curiosity. She barely reacts, only the sides of her pale lips quirk upwards, and the faint glow of love lights up in her eyes, and she gazes back at him, through him, drifting between this world and the next. Still grasping her hand, his other lands on the back of her neck, careful to hold her as if she was something pitifully fragile. He lays her down onto the velvety, glossy sheets.

He looks into her eyes and he sees the ocean in their barren depths. It mesmerizes him, makes his breath hitch in his throat; the trickle of red dyes her cupid bow in the prettiest rouge lipstick. He kisses her, a kiss that is strangely unlike him, a kiss full of emotion so strong his heart nearly lunges out of his chest to beat for hers. Her pulse drums helplessly in her lips, on the side of her jaw where his hand moves to rest. He pulls away slightly, enraptured, and she rasps something melodious in blood written notes.

“Ma mort…” Her voice is an alluring siren’s call.

“Ma vie…” He whispers in between kisses.

She unfolds in his grasp like a rose, breathless and beautiful, and he kisses her neck, her collarbones, retraces the spots he had marked the night before with growing eagerness. He captures her lips again, this time void of any tenderness he had exhibited prior, and she returns it with unexpected keenness. Her limbs sputter by her sides as if she wants to grasp him, yet her hands fall back to bed before she has the chance to run her fingers through his hair. He growls, deep, in the back of his throat, because she tastes like heaven, his heaven, his own personal Eden.

Her last dance, her last arch to his roaming lips as they trail down the curve of her breasts. He calls her name with a gentle groan, barely a whisper. Her skin is frost. It does not heat no matter how much he touches it, and the night is dead silent suddenly, and the hand that had been wrapped around her throat feels as if something is amiss. He pulls away from her, sits uptight, and for a moment, or perhaps a minute, or a whole eternity, he stares at the pale, haunting body of a girl laying eerily still. Her eyes gaze into oblivion with alarming emptiness, and the light of the flickering candle reflects warmly in her eyes.

He cannot explain this feeling, cannot trap it within the constraints of his lexis. He trembles, lightly at first, then almost violently, her blood still warm on his lips. He feels horror grip his throat; settle in the pit of his stomach like a serpent. And he feels awe hitting him in waves of opalescent ecstasy. Beauty, true beauty, is terror. He had never seen something so absolutely sublime.

In a daze, Tom Riddle stands and wanders to the window. White wax drips from the candle. He leans in by the fire, exhales sharply and the fire sniffs out leaving put spirals of grey smoke. He slowly closes the window, his hands still shivering. Lastly he draws the curtain over it. What little light was in the room is now replaced by a sinister red glow.

He never felt so powerful, never so ethereal. Finally… it dawns onto him.

It is happiness he feels. Happiness scorched with abysmal pain.

fin.

#tom riddle #Young Tom Riddle #Harry Potter #imagine #imagines #harry potter fanfiction #hp #tom riddle x reader #reader #reader insert #xreader #tom x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #hogwarts #*hp #amortentia #based on the first chapter of les diaboliques #angst

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mlovesstories · 5 years

Text

Shake It Off Part 5

Summary: YN and Jared both have a hard time. Jensen doesn’t help.

Warnings: multiple panic attacks, cussing

Words: 2400

AN- Thanks to @breereadsthings!!

Tag List

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Masterlist of Masterlists

“Good morning,” Danneel smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, although the circumstances are strange…”

“I’m way too hungover. You’re talking so loud.” YN wiped her hand down her face as she entered the kitchen.

“There’s breakfast on the table for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she turned and walked toward the large table.

“You’re hungry, I’m sure.”

“Thanks.”

YN asked where Jensen was. Danneel explained that he was sleeping in. He almost never did, but she got the kids off to school while he rested.

“This must all be a lot. I’m sorry for ruining your lives,” YN sighed. “I didn’t know. I won’t do anything with the stuff that has come to light. He didn’t know. It’s not his fault or my fault, or-“ she rambled.

“YN.” Danneel waited until YN stopped talking.”We know that, honey. You are welcome here, just please don’t be hungover in front of the kids.” Danneel smiled as she joined the younger female for breakfast with her own plate of food. “It’s a lot for all of us. Jensen was in shock. If he would have known-“

“I know,” YN nodded. “He’s responsible.”

“Hey, YN,” Jensen slowly walked through the doorframe of the kitchen.

“Whatever,” she groaned. “I didn’t ask you to save me last night, Jensen. If you are going to try and teach me life lessons after intervening when I didn’t expect you to, I’m leaving. I didn’t ask you to freaking drive to Dallas and get me. You don’t get to pull the dad card,” she gritted her teeth.

“I love you is all,” Jensen said simply.

“Gah, Jensen. You don't know me. And you treated me like crap.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry. You’ll understand if you have kids. And I’m so proud of you. You’ve handled yourself so well through this crazy ride.”

“Yeah, obviously,” she rolled her eyes.

“Are you missing work today?” Jensen changed the subject, realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere.

“Yeah, but I do graphics and have my own schedule. It’s fine.”

“Okay, good. I can drive you home. I’m on break for two weeks. I don’t mind.”

“I can get an Uber-”

“Sit in a car with a stranger for four hours? No,” Jensen rebutted.

“Can you stay? At least for a few days? We have some extra clothes.” Danneel asked excitedly.

“It’s awkward. And I’m not exactly his biggest fan. No offense. I don’t want to be an inconvenience either. And you guys don’t even know me.”

“You’re so sweet and you’ve helped so many people since you met the boys. Please? I’m sure the kids would love to meet you. I’ll pick them up at about four today,” the oldest woman asked.

YN thought for a moment.

“Okay, fine,” YN softly smiled. As soon as she agreed to stay, her phone went off. “Stop calling me, Mom,” YN groaned.

“Answer, it’s okay,” Jensen told her.

“She LIED to me, Jensen.”

“I know. But you understand why, don’t you?”

“She could have told me. I just wanted a few answers. I cried for days as a kid not knowing who my dad was. SHE KNEW.” YN’s phone continued to ring. She turned the sound off. “I’ll freaking move to Timbuktu. She is nothing to me anymore.”

“No, you’ll stay in Dallas. You’re thinking with your emotions, not with your head. There’s a difference. Let’s change the subject. Dee and I were going to walk the farmer’s market today before we get the kids. You wanna go?”

“Sure, why not?” YN huffed.

“I think Gen and Jare are coming too,” Danneel said.

“It will be good to see them. I’ve never met Gen in person befor-” Her eyes lit up.

Their door creaked.

“Jackles!” Jared’s voice boomed.

“In here!” Jensen called.

Gen and Jared soon entered the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you would be here!” Gen gasped. “It’s so good to meet you!” The woman engulfed YN in a hug.

“Hi, YN!” Jared stopped when he saw her. “You look a little messed up. What happened?”

“She got drunk so I had to save her ass,” Jensen joked.

“You drove to Dallas? In the middle of the night?” Gen scolded.

“She lives alone, what was I supposed to do?” Jensen shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, glad you’re safe. You feeling it today?” Jared smiled.

“Feeling better now that I have food in me. Thanks for the breakfast, Danneel.”

“Of course. Us girls need to get ready. We can do that while the boys watch some TV.”

“Don’t be too long!” Jensen laughed as the ladies walked up the stairs.

______

“I don’t want to talk to you, Mom. Stop bothering me.” YN hung up quickly as she and the Padackles walked the farmer’s market.

“Call her back.” Jensen said lowly.

“Not right now, I am enjoying the fact that you are not being an ass,” YN gritted her teeth.

“Whatever, kid,” Jensen smiled. “Just- treat her okay. It must be a lot for her too.”

“Why aren’t you angry? She kept a secret for a quarter of a century.”

“Well, I am, but I have you in my life now. Maybe I’ll talk to her in the future, but I wouldn’t really know what to say. I’m sad she kept me from you, but I’m happy you’re open to a relationship with me.”

“That’s- that’s very calm of you,” she responded as they stopped at a booth full of strawberries.

“Here, these are the best. Try this,” Danneel handed YN a piece of red fruit.

“Oh my gosh. It’s so good,” YN agreed with a grin.

“We can make strawberry ice cream with these. Okay, let’s keep going,” Danneel prompted.

————-

“Hi!” JJ sat next to YN on the bed while the younger ones tried to join them without luck, too short to climb onto the bed. YN sat up from her afternoon nap.

“Hi,” YN responded groggily. “What’s your name?” The oldest one rubbed her eyes.

“I’m JJ! You’re YN! You’re pretty,” the little girl said matter-of-factly.

“Well, thanks. So are you!”

“Can you play with us?”

“JJ! I told you not to-” Jensen came into the room. “Sorry, YN. I told them to leave you alone. Come on, guys. Let her wake up a bit. I’ll get you a snack.”

As they all exited, YN stood up and straightened out her clothes.

“Twenty-five missed calls? Stop it, Mom,” she mumbled to herself.

YN walked into the living room where everyone greeted her.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Jared smiled from the couch as he sat next to Gen. Jensen grinned across from the couple.

“Where did the kiddos go?” YN looked around expectantly.

“Backyard with Danneel,” Jensen answered. “You can meet them when they come back in. Come sit down,” he patted the area of couch next to him.

The four caught up and reviewed the day. They talked about their favorite parts of their adventure and how YN had never been to a farmer’s market. She soon changed the subject.

YN asked how Jared had been doing. He explained that adult coloring books kept him calm over the previous week. YN saw a few colored pencils on the side table next to him. YN smiled in relief as she saw he was more relaxed than their previous interactions.

“Thank you for all of your help. I mean it. I can’t do it without you. I’ve been in a lot of situations, but this through me for a loop,” Jared showed his gratitude. “Thanks for telling me about what you went through too-”

“They don’t know,’ YN cut in. At the realization that her stroke secret was about to be exposed, she started breathing quickly. “It’s still hard to talk about. Don’t tell-” she stopped abruptly. Shaking, she stayed quiet.

Everyone was silent while she tried to recover, but it wasn’t working. Jared tried to keep her calm, but his presence intensified her panic.

“Jared, back up,” Gen said. He stepped away. His wife approached YN. “It’s okay, girlie. Can I scratch your back?” She noticed YN pulling her knees to her chest. YN nodded. “Move over, Jensen.”

Gen sat next to her, squishing Jensen into the corner of the couch. They didn’t notice that Jared reacted to YN. He also started heaving. Jared grabbed a pillow and clutched it to his chest.

“Oh, no.” Jensen whispered. Gen turned to see her husband curl into himself with a faraway look on his face. “They’re feeding off of each other. I’ll get him out of here. You keep her calm.” Since Jared had not quite gotten to the same stress level as YN, Jensen guided the taller TV brother to a movie room where he put him on the couch. “Relax. She’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to trigger her. I didn’t realize she didn’t want other people to know. I broke her trust. How will she forgive-” Jared rushed the words out of his mouth.

“Jared.”

“What?”

“Stop thinking and breathe. In and out, come on, buddy.”

After a half hour of calmingtechniques both parties had mellowed. Jared walked in to apologize to YN but found her asleep against Gen on the couch.

“It’s my fault,” Jared said.

“Stop it. Sit down. No blaming, you know the rules about that. Get,” Jensen pushed him toward the opposite couch. Jared froze instead of landing on the couch. He started hyperventilating. “Not again,” Jensen whispered. “Let’s just take you home, bug guy. Let’s go,” Jensen took Jared’s arm.

“I want- to say- to say I’m sorry,” Jared turned back to YN and Gen on the couch.

“You can. Later. She’s sleeping. Come on, dude.” Jensen walked ahead of him and opened the front door. Jared slowly followed him out. “You got her?” Jensen stuck his head back through the doorway.

“Yep. Take care of my guy,” Gen whispered back.

______

Jared woke up in his room noting the darkness outside. What had happened that afternoon came rushing at him. He rustled in the sheets, reaching for anything to soothe himself. Hearing noise over the monitor he had placed in Jared’s room a few hours previous, Jensen walked into the large master bedroom.

“You okay?”

“I think so,” Jared calmed, coming down from his anxious state. “I need to say I’m sorry. Is she still at your house?”

“You aren’t going anywhere near her right now.” Jensen said lowly. “You feed off of each other. Until you both chill, you’re staying here. She’s still a little amped even after her nap. Say you’re sorry later.”

“I’ll send her a text,” he reached for his phone.

Jensen walked with large steps toward Jared and took the phone out of his hand.

“No. She’s still not calm. Gen said she can’t relax. If you do this, Gen will have to calm her down again.”

“What about all the kids? I completely forgot about them. Danneel and all-”

“All six are in bed. It’s after ten,” Jensen backed away with the phone in his hand. “Go back to bed. I’m giving this to Gen. She’ll be home soon. I’ll take YN for now. Good night, bud,” Jensen left the room without waiting for a response from his friend.

“I’m so sorry!” YN wailed as quietly as possible. “It’s my fault he got upset,” she tried to calm herself down.

“No, it isn’t. Please know that, sweetie, You can’t keep going like this. You’ll be up all night. When you come down, you’ll crash hard,” Jensen walked in to Gen and Danneel trying to assuage the situation.

“He’s asleep,” Jensen whispered to the ladies in the room.

“Good. He should get some sleep after what I did to him,” YN hiccupped.

“Stop it, YN. Clear the room. Everyone else to bed,” Danneel said sharply.

“Dee?” Jensen questioned his wife.

“Go. Good night, Gen,” Danneel ushered the woman out.

As Gen left, Jensen asked Danneel, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Her mom betrayed her, and you’re the bad guy whether she admits it or not. Get out of here so that she can calm down.”

“How do you know that?”

“Go. Now,” Danneel gave no explanation and looked to YN whose panic was increasing as she sat alone on the couch. “Get a stuffed animal and a blanket and bring it back to me.”

“What in the world, Dee?”

“Just do it,” she groaned.

Danneel sat down next to YN again.

“Here,” Jensen quietly handed her a teddy bear and a soft blanket. He exited quickly.

“YN,” Danneel whispered. “Take this.” YN turned over to see what Danneel had in her hand. “I saw a picture of you on instagram as a kid with something like this. Maybe these will help. Not the same as you had, but hopefully close enough.”

YN accepted the items and held them close. Calming down, she told Danneel that the blanket smelled like Jensen.

“A lot of stuff does,” Danneel laughed. “His cologne lingers.”

Feeling the softness of the stuffed animal and the blanket made her relax.

“I’m not a baby,” YN tried to push them off as she realized what had happened.

“Keep ‘em for now. No one is here and no one knows. If it helps, use them. No making fun. Promise.” She saw YN’s body relax and her eyes slowly close.

________

YN woke up to Jensen looking at her.

“What?”

“What are you? Five? Nice teddy bear,” he snorted.

“Shut up, Jensen. I don’t need you to demean me too.”

“Big baby,” he rolled his eyes at her.

“Why was I not good enough? You should have fought for me, Jensen.”

“For you? You hug stuffed animals and baby blankets, kid. Thanks but no thanks,” Jensen laughed sarcastically.

“Why?”

“Ha! Your mom was a slut. I mean, come on, YN. She had a kid with a guy she barely knew. That’s me, by the way. She was known as the bicycle of the school, you know that?”

“Asshole! If that’s really how you feel, I’ll just leave!”

“Go ahead, small stuff. I don’t want a grown kid who is a wimp.”

“Fine!” YN threw the blanket and stuffed animal at his head. He laughed at her last attempt to interact.

“Bye, YN!” Jensen waved as she flew out the door.

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thesunlounge · 5 years

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Reviews 292: Quiroga

For whatever reason, I feel a close kinship to the far-out sonics emanating from Napoli and among the many eclectic and adventurous artists working there, I am particularly zoned in on the productions of Walter Del Vecchio, otherwise known as Quiroga. With his label Really Swing and alongside a collection of like minded musicians and producers that includes the 291out collective, Dario Bass, Bop Singlayer, and Edizioni Mondo main-man L.U.C.A., Quiroga has created a wonderfully weird and completely unique universe, which, to paraphrase and expand on what I said in my review of Cups and Balls, mixes live instrumentation and sampling to explore the outer realms of library music, Italo funk, soul, chill-out, ambient, drone, and jazz fusion. And on Passages, the long-awaited full length from the artist released through Hell Yeah Recordings, all of these styles (and more) have been deftly woven into an immersive journey of paradise balearica. Riffed out expanses of stoner prog give way to laid back stretches of sun-kissed jazz, with sea foam pads washing over e-piano starscapes and cinematic orchestrations wrapping the heart in golden threads. Energetic house jammers break into funky keyboard freakouts, exotica textures morph and mutate through fourth world jungles, instrumental hip-hop burners sparkle with aquatic chill-out energy, and shimmering new age electronics ripple through interstellar oceans as the spirit is transported to some faraway dreamworld, one where all worries, anxieties, and fears melt away into a fantastical coalescence of Caribbean beaches, Hollywood sunsets, Mediterranean breezes, and Afro-cosmic jungles.

Quiroga - Passages (Hell Yeah Recordings, 2019) Passages starts with “Got Your Love,” which originally opened the B-side of Quiroga’s Vol 8 on Really Swing. Interstellar transmissions flitter while tribal machine toms interact with gurgling vocalisms. Aquatic squelches filter and flow as the drums pull away, leaving smeared out keys to hover, and as the rhythms drop back in, the vibe is like a dopamine kissed hip-hop instrumental, with cut-up breaks lead by jazzwise snares and claps rocketing around the spectrum. Voices diffuse in and out over layers of ambiance, resulting in a narcotic call and response of soulful cut-ups and spiritual falsettos. Synthesizer leads continue morphing joyously as the tripped out rhythms pull in and out, sometimes sucking the air away while ping-ponging electro oscillations fire amidst delirium voice layers. “Martinica Feelings” also comes from Vol 8 and features Luca ‘Presence’ Carini and Vincenzo ‘Warren’ Ciorra of the ever amazing 291out. Carini’s bass moves through romantic motions, sometimes pulsing low, other times slapping and quacking through zany prog ascents, while slow motion funk drums crush the air. Ciorra’s wah guitar traces hallucinogenic curlicues as pianos bang out midnight chords, and at some point, a delay soaked six string casts ethereal moonspells. Later, after a smashing drum and blazing synth passage, we break into a classical jazz guitar solo, all clean glassy perfection snaking amidst jangling tambourines and sensual bass slides. Harmonious mermaid choirs coo in the background while layered riffs execute magical conversations across the spectrum and there are these passages of beatless wonderment, with one seeing everything wash away as aqueous synth waves blow across the void, while another features gorgeous guitar webs floating above hand percussion vibrance.

At the start of “The Zoist,” synthetic wind blasts carry cyborg computations, equatorial arps flutter, and fat bottomed bass squelches ride on a lo-fi machine groove, with snare and kick cracking through spacey reverberation. Pads generate a calming glow and cut-up chime strands are threaded into the percussive panorama while Dario Basslino’s electric piano smears into starlight overhead. And as hissing voices raise hair on the back of the neck, the robo-basslines journey further and further into future funk fireworks. There’s a false ending that sets white noise whooshes and sunset pianos afloat amidst an ambient paradise, one that perhaps recalls film scores from the Golden Era of Hollywood. Then, as the drums work back in, conga accents and mechanized clicks mutate things into a low slung tropical house jam, wherein greasy basslines wiggle and slide, shakers push the body towards hypnosis, and pianos dance on sunbeams...the whole thing coming together and radiating that deeper than deep Moodymann glow. The B-side opens with “North Hollywood Witches” and its clippy kicks and snares stoking an ecstatic groove, with brass chords flashing and lowdown funk basslines slithering beneath the blaring flamboyance. Smoother than silk keyboard solos flow up and down the scale and cymbals and cowbells progress into strange electro patterns while the kick drum pulsates nervously. Wavering synth chords intertwine and the drums move into an irresistible swing, all setting the stage for what is surely the best synth solo all year…this monstrous and magnificent lead ripping through the cosmos and smothered in galactic delay, shredding ever towards the center of the universe and dripping layers of rainbow psychedelia over the stuttering machine funk jam out.

“Non dire notte” was released on Quiroga and Hell Yeah’s first collaboration, the Viaggio a Tulum EP, and again features Carini and Ciorra of 291out. Colorful tom fills and cymbal patterns set the stage, while a fuzzed out bass guitar drops weirdo doom riffs. Horror movie themes rain down from a stormy sky and huge tom fills push thunderous bursts of air before it all reduces to a haze of euphoric voices. The drums smash back in as Carini drops sludge funk bass sorcery and Ciorra’s guitars morph through delirious vibrato fx, coming out the other side like some sort of space age liquid. At some point, things take a turn, with everything fading away in favor of a mutant acid lines and cymbals that blur into granular static. Then, as the sinister rhythm section returns to stomp druggily through lands of shadow, harmonious voices are reduced to a feverish fog, freakedelic guitar licks disperse into phaserwave hallucinations, and Goblin-style synths climb ever higher towards a blood red moon. The first LP ends with the fittingly titled “Africa Addio (Ode to Fourth World),” wherein woodwinds from various cultural traditions bleat and scat over a hand percussion panorama. The ethno-groove is given further shape by shining mallet tones until an unexpected breakdown, and once the propulsive drum energies re-emerge, a contrabass slips and slides through freeform motions while brass synthesizers cast spells of exotica. Electric pianos are used for percussive effect and dance along mesmerically with the spiritual percussion groove and throughout the track, I detect touches of Finis Africæ, though as if merging with a wilder sensibility recalling Art Ensemble of Chicago or even Sun Ra. In other words, it’s music for interplanetary jungle treks and astral adventures into the rainforests of the Congo.

“Città di Mare” first showed up on Quirago’s Cups and Balls, and here appears in edited form. The original introduction of pot-soaked drumming and 80’s prog sequencing is excised and Quiroga drops us straight away into world where soft waves of fusion synthesis create ethereal dreamscapes above a massive downbeat shuffle, here sourced by Aniello Gentile. Electric piano lullabies, again from Bassolino, drift peacefully overhead and low slung bass guitars dance around the fretboard as the groove progresses further and further into smokey lounge territory. A deeply emotional synth solo soars above expressive tom fills and vibrant cymbal and shaker patterns, with everything awash in vibes of mysterious twilight. It’s almost as if the synthesizer solo is trying to mimic the paradise scats of a 50’s jazz diva, with the track evoking some fantasy rememberance of 1940’s era big city nightclubs. The e-piano sometimes works itself into hallucinogenic vibrato waves, while at other times it backs down into sultry blues fantasias surrounded by narcotizing synth swells. And completing the classical jazz vibe, the song softly fades away on brush stroke snare rolls, cymbal taps, and pianos that seem too disperse into vapor. “Luzhin Defence” marries woodwind synthesis and kosmische sequencing to create a new age starscape, one where galactic wisps generate underwater ripples. Existence itself slowly modulates through layers of aqueous fog and at some point, sequences constructed from glowing crystals dance through the mix. It’s as if Quiroga is scoring a 90’s RPG, specifically an exploration of some faraway gemstone cavern, with synthesizers sounding like plucked strands of glass, cushiony basslines dancing, and french horns bluring into cloudform majesty amidst a hypnagogic tapestry of Reich-ian minimalism.

In C-side closer “Amori Proibiti,” echoing e-piano chords are awash in AOR melancholia and synthesizers trail laser liquids. The drums smash on a perfect downtempo groove, with subdued yet funked out basslines following in support. Occasionally, the electronics oscillate out of control and blast the mix with starshine tracers while elsewhere, increasingly romantic piano excursions see high notes blurring into midnight panoramas. Finger rolling conga rhythms join in as the drums pick up energy and after a vocal bass synth sings soft fusion harmonies, the rhythms reduce to a hand drum whisper while at the same time, strings swell amidst alien textures, resulting in a stretch of synthesized symphonic majesty. Later, after the mix squelches into silence, the beats crack back in, now surrounded by interstellar cloudforms…these deeply affecting synth layers evoking some orchestra of the cosmos. Side D opens with “Chiaia Sunset” and its new age arpeggiations cycling amidst wisps of galactic light. A bouncy house rhythm enters…airy and hypnotic…with claps cracking, rattling cymbal patterns tickling the mind, and basslines moving with emotional funk fluidity. The vibe continues growing impossibly hopeful, resulting in stretches of pure ocean dance mesmerism, wherein drunken synths whoosh across the spectrum, further enchanting the spirit. Then comes a piano solo that is so perfect as to almost defy description…a simple yet timeless ivory led dream exploration that I can only compare to Cantoma’s “Sea of Blue” (which is about as high praise as I can possibly give). It’s so easy to close your eyes and sway along to the sunset incantations and tropical house vibrations, especially as the pianos back into radiant chord themes while increasingly trancey electronics add touches of cosmic ecstasy.

“Viaggio a Tulum” introduced me to Quiroga’s weird and wonderful world, as the track was first released by Hell Yeah back in 2017. We cruise on a hip-hop kissed house beat, with slapback snares carried by kicks, woodblocks, shakers, and cut-up tambourines. Oceanic synths cycle through each ear and a voice repeats “good”, bringing a perfect touch of summer anthem magic while squelching leads dance over sequential bubble clouds. Oscillations soar overhead and laser blasts mutate as a polysynth dazzles with neon melodics, which move in counterpoint to the booty shaking bass progressions. The stereo field is alight with pointillist keyboard patterns that circle toward the stars and all the while, string synth orchestrations bathe the body in spiritual warmth. The drums wash out at some point, leaving behind shakers and rimshots, and after whooshing blasts of sonic shimmer obscures all vision, we drop into funky fried fusion brilliace, with e-pianos dancing like Herbie Hancock, bass notes sliding into subsonic growls, and angel voices swelling into ethereal dissonance. And like in “Got Your Love,” Quiroga crafts a soulful call and response, with voices sourced from who knows where repurposed into a vibrant and jammed out vocal house climax. Closer “Bava” also comes from the Viaggio a Tulum EP and two years later, the track is a mysterious and otherworldly as ever. It’s like exploring an underwater cavern, wherein everything is smothered in hiss. Rhythmic clacks smear into drone psychosis and feedback voices scream as alien sonics bubble in from the depths, with Quiroga reveling in pure abstraction and making the enigmatic choice to conclude his epic journey of fusion kissed balearica with a futuristic experiment in musique concrète.

(images from my personal copy)

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