#I’m guilty of this too so like not a huge high horse but it does get annoying | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

black-coffee-and-sugar · 3 years

Text

Fair warning: it's a long post. Let's examine some of the reasons that Kara has cited why she didn't tell Lena the super secret:

1. She wanted to protect her

Now, this one has some legs on it as Kara specifically mentions it in S3 during a conversation with James and Mon-El. And there's definitely some truth to it. But it's also bullshit. Lena was in constant danger and put herself at risk to save/protect Kara who didn't actually need it. In fact, the first time Lena's mentioned (not shown just mentioned) it's in regards to the venture explosion - something that happened because Lex was trying to kill her. People have been trying to kill, kidnap, manipulate, threaten Lena since minute one. Knowing Kara = SG would not have severely worsened any of that. In fact, it might've helped ease Lena's anxieties and resulted in her taking less risks with her life. In fact, I'm surprised Lena didn't think that Kara's association with her was putting Kara at risk (a far more likely thing).

The 100th episode addresses this to some degree in one of the AUs. Lena tells Kara that she wouldn't have had to risk her life dealing with Sam/Reign alone if she'd known the truth and she's absolutely right. And sure, Lena could've told SG and the DEO when she pieced Reign = Sam together but ask yourself, why would she? What assurance did she have that the DEO would not have treated her BEST FRIEND like a hostile instead of someone in need of help? The DEO is guilty of this and they have a history of locking up aliens indefinitely and on occassion straight up murder. After Reign nearly killed their biggest asset (i.e. SG) why in the hell would Lena trust them with helping Sam? She wouldn't nor should she have. She didn't know that she could go to SG because remember, Lena doesn't think of her the same way she does of Kara. SG is not her best friend. She doesn't have a personal, humanized relationship with her (at least not that she knows of). And obviously she's not going to tell Kara the human reporter with the DEO agent sister about it either. And the kryptonite? SG lost her shit over it even though she's been working with the DEO who stockpiled the stuff until SM left with it (a dumbass move that would've bit them so hard in the ass with the WK situation if it weren't for Lena's kryptonite!). Plus, Kara didn't have an issue with Oliver having a kryptonite arrow, J'onn having a sword. But Lena? How dare she!

So yea no. I get that "I kept my secret to protect you" is a popular thing in the hero world but in the case of Kara and Lena, it doesn't make sense and it did make situations unnecessarily harder.

2. She didn't trust Lena

This is mentioned by Kara to William in a deleted scene from S5 but I think it's worth exploring. I'm not sure to what extent Kara means with this but it could be referring to the moments as SG where she did display a distrust of Lena's intentions and she used Lena's personal relationships against her (i.e. asking James to break into Lena's lab). I mentioned the S3 shitshow with the kryptonite which is where a lot of this started but there's also other scenes in that same season where SG pretty much calls into question the so-called trust she has in Lena despite claiming otherwise. The switch was so abrupt the minute she learned Lena not only had but knew how to make kryptonite. Did anyone ever consider why Lena would bother learning how to make kryptonite? I'd hazard a guess that it was something she was looking into even before Sam/Reign. I think she happened to find Lex's stock and she decided to learn how it works and why it affects the Supers like it does. That would explain how Lena seems to be the ONLY ONE able to make an anti-kryptonite suit and other viable forms of the rock (i.e. Harun el). But no, SG and others immediately jump to the worst conclusions and associate the endeavour with Lena's last name, something SG KNOWS Lena is sensitive about it. And then the harun el. SG was suddenly fine with Lena making it when it was to split Sam from Reign and save Argo from extinction. But when it was used for something else that Lena didn't clue her in on (and what do you know, Alex, Brainy and James didn't either and they KNEW what Lena was doing with it) she got back on her high horse and the distrust became front and centre. You can't trust Lena as Kara and then immediately distrust her as SG and expect her to be accepting of this dichotomy. I'm surprised the woman managed to retain her sanity.

And still, this reasoning doesn't quite hit the mark in comparison to every other insistence of Kara believing in Lena (from day one she even told Clark that she believed Lena after meeting her for the first time). But the contrasting opinions and actions must have given Lena pause. I don't blame her to call into question which version of the truth was real and choosing to believe the worst. It's what SG and the SFs have been doing to her.

3. She was wary of Lena

This isn't an explicitly given reason but I do think it's how the secret keeping started in S2. Frankly, I don't even blame Kara for not showing her full deck in the beginning because she (and even us as an audience) didn't know much about Lena beyond wanting to do good and not be like her family. So no, Kara not telling Lena in the beginning actually makes sense to me (though she told Nia in a split second but that's neither here nor there). For me, I started to seriously take Lena at her word after the Medusa episode. That would've been the perfect opportunity for her to show the true "xenophobic" colours some parts of the fandom accuse her of having and she didn't do it. I don't think she even got so much as a thank you for it. People praise SM for getting Lex arrested but ultimately it was Lena's testimony that got him thrown behind bars. Same thing with Lillian! And yes, the daxamite invasion was facilitated by Lena unwittingly working with Rhea but she fixed it with the lead dispersal bomb, a device she allowed SG the privilege of using or not. So Kara and the SFs being cautious about Lena really should've evaporated halfway through S2 (and it did for Kara at least). In fact, the daxamite invasion may not have happened if Lena knew exactly who Rhea was and her relation to Mon-El because they would've warned Lena about it. Lena did want Kara's advice on Rhea and she would've waited for it if she knew what was going on (i.e. Alex being held hostage) and hell, might've been able to fix it in typical Lena ex machina fashion.

4. She didn't want to lose her

This is probably as close to the truth as we've gotten and it's actually part of her confession in 5x01 (something her outburst in 5x19 tries to undo). But the thing is, Kara KNEW this was a possibility and yet, continued walking towards the deadly cliff with her eyes wide open. The probability of losing Lena got higher and higher as time went on and it was always inevitable. There was always this spotlight placed on Kara telling Lena or Lena finding out on her own but there was always a HUGE chance that Lillian would've told her. Or Lex, which is exactly what happened. And Kara knew that they knew and yet she did nothing about it. The minute kara found out Lillian knew she should've taken action, what guarantee did she have that Lillian wouldn't have gotten bored of waiting for Lena to piece it together? How can they just leave Lillian with dangerous knowledge like that is beyond me. When Alex in particular has made such a big deal about people knowing, didn't want Kara telling Lena, only allowed Kara to tell Lucy to save J'onn and yet, letting Lillian amble about with this info is okay??? Nothing was stopping her from telling Lena or it slipping during one their chess games and definitely nothing stopping Lex from dropping that bomb.

The 100th episode AUs showed us that each time it was Kara telling the truth, no matter how hurt and upset Lena rightfully was, she was ultimately fine with it. And Kara ends up losing her to death, not because Lena walked away. How this wasn't the takeaway message for Kara after that adventure, idk. It was Kara's hesitatancy in telling Lena that allowed Lex to weaponize this secret and twist it into something it never was. And yes, Kara doesn't owe a damn soul her secret and has rarely ever been given the chance to tell anyone on her own terms (James - told by SM, Alex, J'onn, Brainy, Mon-El, the Legion - always knew, Lex & Lillian, Lord & Cat - found out somehow). She only ever got to tell Winn, Lucy and Nia and I'm sorry but none of those people have ever proven themselves trustworthy at the time of the reveal the way Lena has.

So while Kara is every right to keep her secrets, she was wrong to insert herself in Lena's life if she never had any intention of telling her and let's be honest, it really didn't seem like Kara had any timeline on that front.

5. She was selfish

Similar to the above and also mentioned during the confession but this is even deeper. Lena was something of an outlet for Kara, a way to feel completely normal, something she hasn't been able to experience with anyone, even Mon-El. Can you imagine being a cub reporter who knows powerful CEO Lena Luthor and having said CEO choose to spend time with you? Choose to let you interview her when she's wary of the press (remember her interactions with Clark in 2x01 and her family history)? Choose to treat your problems as important and valid and human? I don't blame Kara at all for being selfish with Lena, for wanting to keep Lena all to herself like that. But to not share the other aspects of herself was seriously wrong too and resulted in this imbalance in their relationship. To Lena, it looks like she was giving all of herself when Kara was not. It looks like she put all her trust and vulnerabilities out there when Kara didn't. It looks like Kara was using her (which let's be real, she kinda did a few times in S2 with the fight club and bs article to get info on Lillian and then ofc the CatCo-Edge problem she visited Lena for after ignoring her and proceeding to continue the rejection after Lena said she'd look into it).

You think post-reveal Lena didn't think back to all those moments and have those kinda thoughts? Even called into question what might've been the real reason James dated her and Kara was so insistent on befriending her? Were there perhaps times were she figured it out and can't remember and what's why she chose not to see it? Why do we think she still showed up game night in 4x22 instead of confronting Kara? Because these thoughts amongst others must've been swarming her mind and the only way to keep the upper hand is to continue playing dumb. So yes, Kara made the conscious decision to be selfish with Lena because of the unexpected connection they forged and I get it totally. But Lena has never been selfish and she's always made hard efforts to be a damn good friend (and she was idc what others might think on that) and open herself up to Kara despite how difficult and frankly foreign that is for her.

So are Kara's reasons valid? To a point, I would say yes but their validity waned over the seasons to the point where the secret keeping didn't even make sense anymore.

So was Lena's anger valid? Yes! 100% it was and honestly, I'm surprised she managed to keep it together for so long. I couldn't. But her anger doesn't justify her actions (mind control, manipulating Kara, threatening Russell, holding J'onn's bro captive, putting Hope inside Eve) and how she went out of her way to hurt Kara back. However, I get why she did it though it's worth pointing out that this is the only instances of a betrayal in her life where Lena has gone this far. Bitch straight up spiralled where previously she would cut ties and move the fuck on with life. But with Kara, that doesn't even seem to manifest itself to Lena as an option. Will the show ever address the obvious WHY for this and for Kara being so so terrified of losing Lena (like honestly I have never seen Kara look more distressed).

Maybe, maybe not but regardless I'm not buying this platonic friends nonsense because no one is that devastated over a friendship. Many of us (myself included) have experienced falling outs with very close friends and breakups. Which one do you think the Kara/Lena rift in S5 felt like? It was full on heartbreak, loving someone in complete torment and not being able to stop despite wanting to because even though it's painful, the alternative is infinitely worse.

MB and KM's acting choices aside, these idiot showrunners have brought us to this point with their own narrative and the only logical next step is to make them canon.

Lol okay I'm done.

#long ass post i know #but i had to get this all out #because i just can't look at canon events any other way #its all led to this from 'and who are you exactly?' and it hasn't slowed down #kara's ultimate underlying reason is that she's dangerously in love and i will die on that hill #supercorp #coffee speaks

45 notes · View notes

tg-headcanons · 3 years

Note

Nsfw alphabet with naki?

HORNY HOURS WITH IDIOT (affectionate)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): he’s never quite sure what to do right when it’s over and will probably just wait for his partner to do something. He’ll follow their lead for the most part, but what he really wants is praise and cuddles. He’s one of those ghouls who really needs the post sex cuddle sessions to avoid the emotional drop

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): on himself he likes his teeth, on his partner he doesn’t like anything in particular. He’s demisexual and when he is attracted to someone sexually he doesn’t really break down what specific things he likes into parts. He’s content to just like their body as a whole

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): he needs his partner to be patient with him since he doesn’t come very easily. It takes him awhile to get there and he can’t finish without his kakuhou being touched, some ghouls are just built like that but he’s a little embarrassed by it

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): though he’s more used to quick and careless rough stuff, what he really wants is to be pampered. Tell him he’s pretty, touch him gently, fuck him or ride him. Let him lay back and be taken care of, let him know that he deserves it. He’s a pillow prince at heart

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): he has experience, but it isn’t all good. In the past he’s had partners ranging from distant and pushy to downright cruel. Some have been alright, he’s hooked up with people like Miza and Hooguro and really liked it, but others weren’t as kind. Plenty of people have slept with him without caring if he enjoys it, plenty have fucked him through his heat and left him to deal with the emotional drop alone, and Jason in particular was among the worst when it came to downright brutal sex. Naki wants people to give him affection and attention, but sadly Aogiri isn’t the best place to find safe and respectful partners. By now he thinks of sex as something that’s usually painful but can earn him some praise. His partner will need to be very gentle and soft with him at first, he needs to learn that he can set boundaries and that his pleasure is just as important as theirs

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): if he’s bottoming he likes missionary, He’s used to being bent over things in any abandoned building or broken into house he and past partners could find and unceremoniously fucked so being able to look his partner in the eyes and kiss them is amazing. When topping he likes doggy, he hasn’t had much of a chance to be dominant before, and he really likes the feeling of control from time to time

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): he’s not going to joke around, and if his partner is joking he probably won’t notice

H = Heat (what are heats like for them? How do they handle it?): some ghouls get lucky and have brief, mild heats, and others get very unlucky. Naki is among the ladder. They’re absolutely horrible, he was unfortunate enough to end up with a heat hormonal disorder and no way to treat it so he suffers with them. They last a whole week, he has horrible cramps, fevers, nausea, unrelenting muscle weakness and insomnia. In the past he’s handled them by trying to find a decent place to hide and wait them out, but most of the time they break him and he resorts to sleeping with anyone to relieve it. It isn’t safe and the type of ghoul who would fuck someone in heat without talking it out with them beforehand isn’t the type to be kind and respectful. His partner will need to sit him down and talk about how he wants to go about it before it happens to be sure they have a plan and don’t cross any of his boundaries, and he’ll honestly be grateful for the sense of security that comes with a safe place to get through it. Just keep him from overheating, bring some painkillers, be gentle with him and maybe ask around among rich ghoul circles for doctors who can treat heat disorders and he’ll fall in love all over again

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): he’s very intimate. He always holds out hope that sex will be romantic and kind and even with the kind of people he’s been with in the past he hasn’t given up on that fairy tail Candlelight-And-Velvet sex he wants. Tell him how pretty he is and kiss him and he’ll be melting in your arms

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): considering that he’s homeless, roams with a pack of people, and that it takes more for him to come than it takes others, for Naki jerking off takes more planning than you’d think. He needs to wait until he can find somewhere that he can go in private between missions, often rooms in unoccupied buildings where the White Suits are staying, and then he can relieve himself. Since he needs his kakuhou touched he rubs up against something to stimulate it. If he’s lucky he can find a living room or bedroom with pillows he can use, but if he can’t he’ll fold up his jacket. Between touching his cock and rutting his kakuhou against the pillows he’s able to get himself off every so often before slipping back into the group and hoping no one has questions about where he went

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): blindfolds. You know how when vets treat horses and deer they cover their eyes to make them less nervous? The same thing works on Naki. He’s a little uneasy when getting started and oddly enough, if he’s blindfolded and unable to anticipate movements, that fades away. All he has to do is focus on the sensations of being touched and words of praise, and any anxiety is replaced by euphoria

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): bedroom. For most that seems normal but for him that’s a luxury. A comfy bed? A door for privacy? Lights that can be turned off? That’s living like kings right there

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): genuine affection. Nothing gets him hard like assurance that he’s loved and wanted through the simple kindness he craves

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): Naki has some trouble with setting boundaries, he assumes his partner will be mad and needs the assurance that there’s nothing wrong with not being comfortable with things. He’s not quite sure where to start so he’d have to say that he doesn’t like anything too rough or mean. Things like bottoming unprepared, impact play or degradation. Biting and hard grips are fine since that’s normal for ghouls to enjoy but things that are purposefully sadistic are off the table. He’s getting better at speaking up when something hurts physically or emotionally, and it feels good to be able to say no without feeling guilty about it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): he prefers to give. Because he’s a ghoul, Teeth Near Dick is a valid fear and one that he’d rather avoid. Though he isn’t opposed to being the one giving head

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): he can take a lot, but prefers for his partner to be gentle and slow when he’s bottoming. Though when he’s on top, he’s pretty quick, not so much that he’s trying to be rough, rather he gets caught up in feeling good and ends up fucking like a rabbit

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): he hates them. He knows that “quick fuck” = “not enough time for him to finish” = “not enough time for post sex cuddles” = “huge emotional drop.” He needs to have time, he needs to have the right touches, and he needs to have decent aftercare. Quickies don’t allow for that so he isn’t too keen on them

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): he doesn’t really like to. He knows his comfort zone in regards to sex and he knows that he doesn’t do well with pushing its boundaries. He’d rather stick to doing it inside, and if there’s anything new his partner wants to bring into the bedroom it would need to be gradual

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): he lasts a hell of a long time. He goes a round or two before being tapped out, but with how long it takes him to come those rounds can be awhile

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he doesn’t have any. He wouldn’t be opposed to some being used on him as long as they don’t hurt though

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he doesn’t like teasing and he doesn’t like to be teased, he doesn’t see the appeal

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): I’m sure this comes as no surprise but Naki cries during sex. He does it when he’s in pain, he does it when he’s feeling amazing, he does it with any strong sensation at all so no matter what it’s just going to happen. It’s normal for him to let a few tears fall while he’s fucking, along with some pretty loud moans. What is surprising is that he’s one of those rare ghouls who purrs during sex. He doesn’t always do it because he needs to feel very safe and very good, but with the right partner he’ll be purring like a kitten

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he likes wearing things that his partner gives him. It’s a task that he can obey, it’s a physical reminder that they care enough about him to decorate him, it’s something that shows everyone who he belongs to. Whether it’s a collar or a suit he jumps at the opportunity to wear something that marks him as theirs

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): 7.5 inches, life may have screwed him over but at least his meat is huge

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): a little below average. Sex isn’t as important to him as romance, rather it’s another expression of romance, so only doing it a few times a month is enough for him. Though he’d be okay with doing it more if his partner wants to, he likes doing anything as long as it’s with them and sex can be amazing

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): he doesn’t fall asleep after sex unless he’s sure he’s somewhere safe. He’s used to having to immediately fix his clothes and leave whenever it’s over, but if he has a partner who cares about him, a room that’s safe, and some cuddles to put him at ease, he’ll slowly drift off

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul headcanon #naki #tg naki #notsfw alphabet #notsfw

28 notes · View notes

selfships-in-spanish · 3 years

Text

The Queen of Demons 4/?

Pairing: Erwin Smith x OC, Levi Ackerman x OC

Rating: Mature (the rating will go up as the story advances! But it will totally be explicit ;D I even have some smut chapters already half written woooo! But right now just in case)

Warnings: None for now, but sexist and misogynist upbringing (Eva's father is a huge asshole).

Word Count: 8885

ALSO POSTED ON AO3

A/N: FUCKING FINALLY. I was so stuck and had a severe writer's block, but here it is! Part 4! I feel like my writing went down a bit but I hope to make up for it on the next one. Finished, not perfect! I hope you enjoy this one and were we can see a bit more of the vets and the 104 kids ôô

CHAPTER 4: WINTER BLOOM

The pale morning rays of sunlight woke the Princess up, mumbling and turning to her side. Eva heard the distant chirps of birds flying by, as well as the sounds of the village being already busy. The neighing of horses, carts being pulled around, setting up the shops, the rooster screeching…

Wait.

That’s not what she usually woke up to.

Back home she only heard the birds and some maids, especially Flora when she would come barging in and opening the thick curtains of her windows, letting the sun hit right in Princess’ face as she knew how much Eva despised being woken up like this, hollering: “What–”

“–A great morning this is, your Royal Sleepy Highness!”

Ah, there she was.

Eva attempted a reply but curled up further into the duvet and blankets.

“Oh c’mon, Princess! We’ve got a busy day today! Lots of exciting things!”

“Exciting for you.” Eva mumbled covering her head with the thick bedding.

Flora snorted, rolling her eyes. Without any kind of remorse, Flora grabbed the end of the duvet and blankets and unceremoniously pulled them off the Princess, enjoying the irritated groan she let out as Eva tried to blindly find something to cover herself with.

“Rise and shine!” Flora said in a singsong, stepping out of the Princess’ reach as she tried to kick her leg.

“How can you be so happy and chirpy so early in the morning?” Eva gave up, sighing and rolling out of the oddly comfortable bed; Eva fell asleep earlier than she anticipated.

“Oh, spare me the dramatics! We gotta get you to eat breakfast and prepare you for—“

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, sure thing Princess, as if you don’t gobble up like a duck when you are nervous.” Flora handed Eva her robe, guiding her to the bathroom where a basin already filled with water and a cloth awaited her.

Once her morning routine finished, Eva padded to the living room where breakfast had been already served. It smelled heavenly.

“I don’t gobble like a duck.” Eva sat down, huffing displeased.

The Princess served herself some warm bread, eyeing the jams and butter with a watering mouth. Flora set a steaming cup next to her before sitting down in front of the Princess.

“Sorry, not coffee yet.”

Eva sighed.

The Princess cut some more bread for her handmaiden, sharing the spreading knife after she was done with it. On the first bite Eva hummed, satisfied with the taste and texture. Freshly baked bread was the absolute best. Flora leisurely poured sugar over the butter, her smile widening at the sugary mess. Eva frowned, chewing.

“It’s still a wonder how your teeth haven’t rotten out yet.”

“Ah, family thing for sure!” Flora took a heartly bite of the sweet monstrosity in her hands. “Gramps still has his teeth intact and covers everything in sugar when he gets his hands on some.”

Eva’s lips curled into a grimace.

“I love sweets but I don't think that is healthy.”

“You just don’t appreciate the flavour.”

“I sincerely doubt there’s any flavour left in that.” Eva nodded towards Flora’s loaf of bread.

The handmaid shrugged, biting down on it and making a show just to irk the Princess further. Eva exaggerated a gag which made Flora giggle.

Three knocks on the heavy wooden door announced the Eldians coming to pick her up. Eva sighed as she watched Flora stand up from the chair next to the Princess and walk to the door, opening it with a short bow and a smile. Eva sat straighter as the looming and bulky figures of the Eldian warriors came into her view, entering the lodgings provided temporarily for her and her handmaiden. They were the same as yesterday, the giant called Mike, the female warrior that caught her attention, Nanaba, and another man Eva couldn’t remember the name right now.

The three warriors bowed, Nanaba and the other warrior waiting right next to the open door as Mike approached her. The giant warrior waved to the door, the message of “you have to go outside” quite clear in his movements. His face did not give away any of his thoughts, keeping a neutral expression as he watched the Princess stand up and follow him, Flora right behind her with giddy steps.

Flora should have been born a Princess or a noble, her happy and open disposition towards everything and everyone would win anyone over, as well as the way she found happiness in the little things of life. How Eva wished she had Flora’s positive mindset.

“Alright, ready for your big day?” the handmaiden asked in hushed whispers, something both women mastered from years of court banquets.

“Of course not. I want to run right back inside.”

“You’re such a big—” Flora was cut off by Eva’s gasp.

Flora raised her eyes just in time to see the giant warrior leaning way too close to the Princess’ personal space and… sniff. The Princess had turned around, disbelief and stupefaction etched on her face at the nerve this big, brute man had to go sniffing people without… without their consent. Eva found it uncouth, impolite, and her cheeks blazed in indignation.

Mike leaned back, humming, pleased at something Eva wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Nanaba immediately chastised the big man, kicking his leg and nagging at him as he shrugged, crossing his arms and looking slightly guilty. At the scene unfolding right outside the house, people began to stop and watch, and Eva felt her blood run cold at the sound of the Chief’s laugh coming from down the stairs. Hans and Friederich were already there, and the youngest of the two brothers was about to march upstairs, his displeased frown deepening. The Chief nodded to Moblit, motioning him to rush to them and clear misunderstandings. Levi rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue.

“Your Highness, please accept our deepest apologies.” Moblit hastily bowed, an apologetic smile in his lips. “Mike here has this habit of… uh, sniffing people.”

“Is he implying I smell?” Eva’s mouth was pulled into a tight line. Flora did not spend as long as she did grooming her and using those soaps and perfumes Eva loved for this man to mock her handmaiden’s efforts. Besides, she kept her hygiene up to date, thank you very much.

“No! Not at all, Your Highness. Mike has a great and sharp sense of smell, like a… ah, what’s the name... ah, wolf! Like a wolf, and although I do concede that it may be considered rude, he just does it from force of habit.”

Eva raised her brow skeptically.

“He meant no disrespect, Your Highness. It’s his way to say that he uh… he welcomes you.” Moblit ventured a quick glance towards the man in question, muttering something as he almost imperceptibly nodded towards the Princess with wide impatient eyes.

Mike huffed, but muttered something back to Moblit in a deep voice. Next to him, Nanaba nodded, pleased.

“He apologises, Your Highness, and compliments you.” that piqued Eva’s curiosity. “He says you smell comforting, of lavender and honey. That’s something he appreciates, with his sharp sense of smell he can easily get overwhelmed by strong scents.”

“Ah, that must be troublesome.” Eva turned to face Mike and inclined her head. “My apologies for acting harshly.” But Eva still thought her response was totally justified. A warning beforehand would have been nice, and she still had her pride.

Mike answered with one curtly bow of his head of his own.

“Indeed.” Moblit decided the issue was resolved and lifted his arm towards the Chief and the Gottesreichan Princes, watching the whole ordeal with amused expressions sans Friederich. He still looked murderous. “Please, after you, Your Highness.”

That shocked Eva. Normally back at Gottesreich she would walk behind the men and respectfully listen to whoever was talking, and even after visiting other countries, that rule still applied, or maybe they weren’t willing to go against Gottesreich. Either way, Eva was taught to never disrespect its citizens and rulers when visiting foreign kingdoms from her brothers, and the Princess always willed herself to follow the Kingdom’s culture and customs out of respect, despite what her father said on more than one occasion. Her brothers taught her to be respectful, and she would not ignore them, and even less be an embarrassment for her brothers. Summoning with all her will a composed mask on her face, Eva dared to take the lead and walk down the snow covered stairs to where her brothers and Chief awaited. Flora walked right behind her, always keeping a watchful eye to her skirts and cloak, in case they may get in the way.

The crunching of her steps on the snow were deafening for the Princess. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch. She was used to having all eyes on her, from courts and dances and banquets, from nobles and princes trying to win her father’s good graces, but having the people of Eldia stop and observe every single move she was doing felt suffocating. One slip and she was probably doomed in their eyes.

Eva stopped right in front of the men, bowing respectfully.

“Good morning, my Lord. Brothers.” Moblit’s voice softly translated for the Chief, who didn’t take his eyes away from her the entire descent.

The Chief returned the greeting, bowing as well.

“I hope you had a pleasant sleep, your Highness.”

“I did. Thank you, my Lord.” Eva did not find the need to tell him how she tossed and turned around, her mind restless, musing over yesterday’s events –his touch– or how she missed her pillows back at the palace. The Chief seemed pleased, although there was a glint in his eyes that he most certainly caught the lie. Damn it.

“If there is anything we can offer to help you get settled and to further accommodate you, please do not hesitate to say so, your Highness. I understand it may be unpleasant being so far away from home and your people.” Eva was slightly taken aback at how the Chief seemed to be understanding of her situation, contrary to what she had heard and been told a husband would be once she married. The Princess didn’t want to let her hopes up in case the fall was to be harder than it would already be.

“Thank you for your consideration, my Lord. I will do so in case I need it.” Eva knew she wouldn’t say a thing, her stubbornness always playing against her favour.

The Chief seemed pleased enough with her answer. He turned slightly so he was facing the three Gottesreichan siblings, addressing the rest of the foreign party as well. Moblit translated for them all, and Flora managed to contain her excited hops when the Chief officially announced the start of their walk around the village.

Much to the Princess’ dismay, the Chief had offered up his right arm for her to hold on as they began the tour, an encouraging smile on his lips as if saying “go on, I will not harm you”. Eva had hoped her brothers would keep him distracted enough so she could trail behind and listen, observing her surroundings, but no such luck. It seemed like here in Eldia they weren’t as reticent of closeness as they were in Gottesreich, and women were treated differently.

The Chief was still as big and massive as the Princess remembered from yesterday’s banquet, thinking it was her own nerves and wine that exaggerated her memories, but the way her hands had trouble meeting on the Chief’s arm told her otherwise. The Eldian leader kept a slow pace, mindful of his companion and her shorter legs, as he began explaining their village and the way it was structured.

The Eldian architecture was entirely different from the one used in Gottesreich, as well as the distribution of the village itself. Where Eva was used to narrower streets with houses sharing walls, clustered, messy (although the closer to the castle, the better were planned the streets and districts), mossy cobblestones, puddles around the corners with barrels and wooden crates, the townspeople walking as merchants and shopkeepers yelled their offers to the passersby, pennants hanging from side to side of the streets with the Kingdom’s colours… Here in Eldia the streets were wider, the buildings lower in height which gave a sense of the town being less claustrophobic since you could easily see the scenery and the sky. Wooden fences, dark roofs made of slates, the streets made of the earth itself with grass heartily growing on both sides and wooden planks on the floor to help create a more visible path on certain parts, but one could clearly see the cart’s marks as well as the horses pulling them.

Although everything was covered in thick layers of snow, Eva had no doubts it would be a magnificent sight in spring, with the imposing mountains surrounding the village and the vast fields littered with the farmer’s homes composing a picture deserving of a painting. It was rurally beautiful. Different, more primitive, if she took into consideration her own Kingdom’s ways, but efficient. The Princess was sure this level of coordination would not be able to be achieved without years of honing this lifestyle, and it honestly intrigued her, her curiosity piqued. Eva hoped this curiosity and wonder for the novelty wouldn’t disappear quickly and would stay with her until her situation was more bearable, or grew accustomed to.

Moblit’s gentle voice guided the Gottesreichan guests through the Chief’s explanations, looking at the direction where the Chief pointed with his free hand while speaking, often stopping to further go into details about their dwellings, their storage facilities and barns, the marketplace with the villagers already busy with their daily chores. The town’s market was lively and uniquely beautiful, wooden stalls standing proud with all the goods on display. There was all kinds of variety, going from food to parchment and candles and clothes, to jewelry or tools for butchers or farmers.

The Princess’ heart thumped wildly on her chest, trying her hardest not to show her rising panic at the fact that she was walking around the village on the Chief’s arm, having everyone’s eyes on her as they kept their tour. The villagers stopped their chores midway to stare at them, whispering and chattering as they went through. Some respectfully greeted their Chieftain, mostly the warriors patrolling the streets doing a particular salute upon seeing them, but the villagers smiled and bowed, the children present doing the same as they tried to contain their laughs while not being able to keep their eyes off the scene in front of them. The Chief continued their walk after answering the greetings.

An excited giggle, followed by a shriek of what sounded like a name, startled the guests and their hosts, even. The Gottesreichan soldiers took a defensive stance, ready to pounce on the source of it as well as attack if necessary; their priority was defending the monarch's lives at any costs. Eva couldn’t help the scared jump her body did upon hearing the childish laugh and running steps on frozen ground getting nearer, gasping loudly in fear and tightly clutching the Chief’s arm with her tiny hands as she unconsciously leaned on him, seeking protection.

The Chief was ready to make her stand behind him and face the attacker, but stopped immediately upon seeing it was one of the children from before. The boy had rosy cheeks, the colour intensified by both the running and the cold, and probably the excitement too, and had a wide smile that was missing a few teeth. The kid was holding something in his hands, hidden behind his back, and with the eagerness of a child waiting for the exact moment an adult would pay them attention to show them what they got in their hands, the little boy almost shoved his possession to the Chieftain and the Princess.

Once he saw what the boy had in his hands, the Chief visibly relaxed, shoulders shaking in silent amusement at how a little kid got the best of them all. The Princess still looked uncertain, clutching and pressing herself into him. Eyes wide and breath a little bit short, Eva looked down at the kid’s hands. He was holding a… flower?

A flower in the middle of winter? How was that even possible?

The kid kept his eyes on the Princess, urging her to take his present with quick words and lifting his hands further up, his smile widening. Eva thought herself of a stupid fool. How could she have been scared of a child? What harm could he do? Unless… No, unless nothing. This was a little boy offering a flower, a beautiful one that Eva had never seen before. Father would not tarnish the good intentions of a child.

Upon not having, still, immediate response from the Princess, the kid hopped on his spot, irremediably making Eva show a timid smile; she could never resist a toothy grin and sparkling eyes.

One look at the mother told Eva how this was not planned and how the kid had ran off on his own volition. Everyone on the street stopped dead on their tracks and silently watched the exchange, not even daring to breathe. The mother’s wide eyes jumped from the Princess to the Chief, then to his child, not knowing if she should run and apologise to their guests or wait and have faith in their leader and his soon to be wife.

Eva understood quickly this was to be a decisive moment for her and her stay in Eldia. One wrong movement that led to misinterpretation could be beyond disastrous. She had to be good, she had to fulfill her duty and be a good wife and—

Eva took a deep breath. Focus. Don’t succumb into panic.

Fighting her burning cheeks out of her own embarrasment, Eva let go of her almost deadly grip on the Chief’s arm and faced the little boy alone. Keeping her smile on her lips, Eva approached the child with small steps, stopping right in front of him and elegantly folding her gloved hand on top of the other. The kid kept talking at a dizzying speed, and when he noticed how the Princess furrowed her brows in confusion, while still maintaining her smile, he understood not a word he was saying reached her.

Humming to himself while thinking hard, the kid’s face illuminated itself when an idea came to him. He hastily pointed to the flower and then to the Princess, practically shoving it in her hands. Eva looked down and then up at the kid, pointing at herself with a questioning look. The child nodded effusively, shoving the poor flower again.

Eva couldn’t help the soft chuckle upon his enthusiasm, never being able to resist a kid. The Princess took it, making sure to do a slightly exaggerated bow, lifting slightly the skirts and careful enough to not crumple the flower, so the little boy understood her gratitude. The kid happily ran back to his mother, skipping and laughing as he began talking at that incredible speed while his mother looked beyond relieved. Eva did a curtly bow to her too, trying to show the mother no offence of any kind was taken.

Returning to the Chief’s side, Eva brought the flower to her nose. She always did that whenever she came by one, out of habit, and was surprised by the faint but sweet fragrance it emitted. Eva would have to ask about them, knowing Gottesreich did not have any flowers blooming in winter.

Just when they were about to resume their walk, more excited giggles and shouts could be heard. Other children ran away from their mothers and fathers, holding the same flower in their tiny hands. Eva found herself surrounded by eager eyes and smiles, shoving their flowers up so the Princess would pick them up too. Some would tug at her cloak so she would pick theirs first, others jumping on their spot, other’s patiently waiting their turn as they marvelled on the fabric and embroidery of her pale blue winter dress.

The Princess ended up with a small bouquet of flowers, the children shouting and running happily back to their parents once they delivered their gifts. She did not know what to do with them now, and frantically looked at the Chief and her brothers, then to Flora when her siblings had confused expressions, for a clue. The Chieftain had an amused glint in his eyes, but half his mind was busy thinking about something. Finally, Flora took pity on her Princess and walked up to her with a smile on her lips.

“Let’s show off those gifts, shall we, your Highness?”

Flora expertly secured the flowers on the Princess’s up braid, the pure white and calm blue of the flowers an unexpected but welcome complement to the Princess’s own choice of wardrobe. Moblit later explained, upon inquiring about the flowers herself, that they were a special kind of flower that bloomed on their woods only during the cold season, earning the name of “winter miracle”. It also symbolized the welcoming of new people into their tribe, as its sister in the warmer weather.

Eva was touched, knowing not that those kids wanted to welcome her upon hearing she was to become one of them soon. The Princess only wished the adults would have the same feelings towards her.

Thankfully the walk around the village suffered no more incidents and surprises, and Eva was able to delight herself on the market and what it had to offer; she definitely had to go there often and take her sweet time. The quills looked absolutely exquisite, and those were the famous travelling books she heard so much about! Even the jeweller had a beautiful selection of earrings, bracelets, necklaces and rings that the Princess had no idea the Eldians were capable of such craftsmanship. She particularly liked the brooch with the silhouette of a bird resting on a golden branch, the gold of the bird expertly mixed with beautiful midnight blue gemstones, resembling feathers. Also the hairpins! They were absolutely marvelous. The jeweller himself was both pleased and proud that the Gottesreichan Princess liked his products.

Their next destination amazed and terrified the Gottesreichan guests.

Eldia’s military prowess was legendary, and right now, they had its base and core right in front of them. The training grounds were a massive expanse of terrain, with barracks, thoroughly used wooden dummies, racks full of well-cared training weapons of all kinds, archery ranges, horse-riding training fields… and each and every single space was filled to the brim with warriors and trainees.

It was frightening to see how Eldia’s army was composed of perfectly trained warriors with wide expertise in the arts of combat. Not a movement wasted, not a single error in the placement of their feet to maintain balance. Strength, power, endurance, knowledge— every skill needed to become a perfect warrior, it was taught here in the massive training fields.

The Chief walked them right through the training grounds, nodding towards the warriors and fresh trainees who ceremoniously saluted him and the entourage he was leading. It was the same salute the Gottesreichan guests had seen in their entire walk around the unexpectedly gigantic village: right hand closed in a fist over their hearts, left hand on the back, and a proud stance full of tenacity and devotion. The newest recruits surprised the royal siblings, full of young faces who couldn’t be older than 15, but with a fierce determination to learn and to prove themselves. All sizes, shapes and forms– if you were up to it, were ready to go through an intense training, it did not matter who you were: a farmer’s son, a baker’s daughter… if you dedicated your heart, trained hard and understood what values had an Eldian warrior, what a life meant, you were fit to become one.

They stopped to observe the fresh batch that just started training a few months back go through a hand to hand combat. The instructor, a tall and intimidating man, bald with prominent wrinkles on his forehead and very notorious dark circles under his eyes, yelled out orders to the recruits. Some flinched, some fought every fibre of their beings into not taking a step back –a few of them failing–, but some stood their ground with confident and resolved stares, bearing down the drilling of the grim and frightening man.

Upon seeing that their Chief, the veteran warriors and the Gottesreichan guests where watching them, the recruits swallowed down their fears and tried to impress their leaders and royal guests, trying to make a good and fearsome impression of what the Eldian training grounds and warriors were made of. Punches, kicks, throwing the opponent on the floor… the field became a controlled battlefield of snarls, growls and frustrated shouts that developed into determined grunts. The recruits’ clothes soon became soiled by a mix of sweat and dirt, as a result of their vigorous and energetic try of today’s exercises.

The Princess did not dare to voice it aloud, in fear of her thoughts being perceived as a critique and direct attack on the Eldian ways, but her heart shrank inside her chest at the sight of what must be the smallest, tiniest of the new recruits, a blonde girl with wide blue eyes like the sky above, go against a trainee twice her size. Eva involuntarily clenched her hands in apprehension on the Chief’s arm, eyes not able to look away from the imminent tragedy. She was too tiny to be there! That poor girl was surely to be beaten into a pulp, taken advantage of the fact that she was much weaker, much more smaller–

A large hand squeezed her tightly clasped ones, making the Princess tear away her concerned gaze, even if she thought it was impossible for her to do so, to look down and see the Chief’s one bury her own. The Princess immediately searched for the Chief’s eyes, surprised at how he was already gazing down on her and had a small reassuring smile on his lips, nodding towards the training field. Eva looked straight ahead, just in time to see the petite girl dodge and deliver a solid punch to her opponent, making the cadet stagger backwards and clutch their stomach in pain. It was still far from being perfect and devastatingly powerful, as Eldians were known for, but it was good enough for a start and for the tiny warrior’s size. A small breath of relief released itself from the Princess’ lungs.

It still shocked Eva to the core to see women amongst the military ranks and files of Eldia, and nobody questioning it. Apparently there weren’t any kind of laws to forbid them to enlist, or to do any other job that back in Gottesreich it was meant only for men. How could they do it? How could those brave women endure it? Eva had always been taught how them, the lesser, weaker sex, could not what a man could do, just because God said so in his holy words. Father was the High Priest of Gottesreich, Father preached the word of God, the Holy Scriptures, that he made memorise Eva the moment she began her intense training as the third Princess of Gottesreich. It was so deeply ingrained in her mind that the mere thought of thinking herself above a man and their role made the Princess want to get on her knees and beg for forgiveness from her God.

How far did the dissimilarities run between their nations? How could Father entrust her with his desire to enlighten the Eldians into the correct, pious path? Just the simple thought of questioning her husband-to-be and his ways chilled her entire body and soul. She just… couldn’t. Her father’s will confused Eva.

But still, deep down inside her, locked down and not even daring to let it see the light, she couldn’t help but to… envy them. Envy their freedom of choice, of options, of life. Could she ever be like them? Aspire to have their wide range of choices? Alternatives? Could she choose her own path? She had been taught since she was a little girl that she would spend her life in a home, with her husband and a child in her arms. Not travelling, not expanding knowledge, or meeting new people and cultures… Everything Father and the Governess told her reminded little Eva of a bird cage. Pretty, comfortable, enough to see what was beyond the bars… but a cage.

She learned to accept her fate quickly, not daring to cross Father ever again in her life.

Eva knew she was born in a privileged home. A castle. A Princess. Never hungry, never cold, only the best of the best for her. It only took a quick look beyond the capital to see how privilege fed and took care of her. All her whims and wishes met without hesitation. Not a single patch to fix on her dresses, her hairbrush not missing a single bristle and made of the best silver— a perfect, content life. All you have to do is your duty, Father said. Do what you were born to do. Your only purpose.

Make me proud of being your Father.

Bring glory to the Holy Kingdom.

She was made to be bred, she was made to bear children, heirs, she was made to be a leverage for deals, a bargain chip, as her mind whispered to her in her darkest moments, to bring prosperity and glory to the Holy Kingdom of Gottesreich. She was… She was…

“Your Highness?”

The Princess was brought back to the present by Moblit’s placid voice and the Chief’s gentle tug, as if she had been rooted there, staring at the warriors, and getting lost in her troubles instead of following her fiancé and Eldian hosts. They were staring at her. Everyone. At least it felt like everyone, even the animals. Her breath had caught in her lungs, her throat a hard knot she forced herself to swallow before speaking.

“My deepest apologies, my Lords.” Eva’s mind scrambled to find an appropriate excuse for her lack of manners and being caught zoning out. “I did not mean any disrespect by my actions or to show an unwillingness to follow this pleasant walk. I was simply transfixed by your warriors, admiring their tenacity and will.”

What a load of bullshit.

They all seemed to buy it. Not Flora, though. She could see right through Eva as if she had been made of glass. Her handmaiden would probably ask her about it later in the privacy of their own lodgings, but let it go for now, knowing it was no use to inquire about it in the middle of the village tour, even less in front of their hosts.

They resumed the walk, passing through the training grounds before turning to their right, strolling until they reached one of the biggest houses of the village. Moblit informed them it was where the sick and injured were taken care of. A house for the sick, a hospital. Gottesreich had its own physicians and doctors, but never a house dedicated for the sick, the poor. Eva knew the Palace had their own royal physicians, dedicated only to them, and the people needed to rely on the town’s doctors.

Eva wondered how did this hospital work. Did they dedicate a part of the taxes to it? Was it free? What remedies did they use? What—

One of the windows was slammed open, an excited yell coming out of it. Moblit let out a tired sigh, mumbling in Eldian, as if he knew exactly what was that about. Levi spoke too, the tone in his voice denoting annoyance. Eva felt the Chieftain chuckle, answering his right-hand man with something that made Levi snort.

A head poked out of the window, messy brown hair tied up in a scrambled ponytail. The stranger kept shouting, excited, continuous noises of delight coming out of their mouth. The person noticed the small entourage right down their window, and quieted down instantly, curious as to who were the ones standing there. Then, another excited screech, lurching their body almost out of the window as they enthusiastically waved down. Moblit let out a strangled noise, uselessly raising his arms as if he wanted to catch the over excited person dangling off the window.

Eva discreetly looked to her side, looking for an answer or explanation in the Chief’s eyes, but he was looking up with an amused smile. She used his distraction to look behind her, finding the exact confused expression on her handmaiden and brother’s faces. The Princess saw Flora quietly shrug her shoulders, and she was so tempted to join her, but refrained in case the Eldians caught her and found it impolite. The person on the window shouted something and disappeared inside, sounds of furniture being moved around reaching their ears. Moblit groaned, rubbing his temples.

A few minutes later the same person who had half their body out of the window came out from the main doors of the hospital. Levi discreetly stepped away, not wanting to be involved with the newcomer and the imminent events. He really wanted to go back to the privacy and tranquility of his own home, drink a nice cup of tea…

An excited exclamation followed by a strident laugh broke Levi’s long desired daydream. He watched their eccentric approach, wondering how their guests would react to them. Judging by how the delicate Princess gasped at anything that came running and loud, Levi guessed it would not go right. Mike silently joined him, crossing his arms as he, too, observed the catastrophe about to happen.

“Bets?” Mike’s low murmur made Levi snort.

“She will freak out.” Levi turned his head to amusedly stare at his fellow warrior. “Like she did with you.”

Mike scoffed, crossing his arms.

“C’mon, not you too. And I say she doesn’t, just to spite you.”

“Hah! Serves you right, you big-nosed moose.” Levi’s gaze fell back to the front.

“It was not my intention.” it truly hadn’t been. He couldn’t help it, Mike trusted his nose, knowing his instincts never failed him before. He had to know.

“Just, don’t go sniffing people.”

“I will not make such promises.” Mike’s lips curled into a smile, proud at the way he managed to make Levi’s shoulders briefly shake.

Both warriors kept watching the scene in front of them, with Moblit trying to save the situation from their beloved doctor’s clutches, quickly directing their attention to himself and his words. Everybody knew that Moblit had a reserved spot on their Goddesses’ paradise; nobody worked as hard as him, and was as skilled to manage the village’s resident genius doctor.

“Your Highnesses, it is my pleasure to introduce you to our doctor, Hange Zoë. They are the head of the hospital and–”

“IT IS PLEASURE TO MEET, HIGHNESSESES!” Hange cut the poor and exasperated Moblit out, excitedly looking from one sibling to the other. The royal hosts were surprised at the doctor’s broken Gottesreichan attempt, albeit enthusiastic.

Flora successfully covered an amused snort. Ardor! Fervor! Passion! Flora admired that in a person, and for now, Doctor Hange Zoë managed to catch her attention. The handmaiden was sure she could learn interesting things from this eager physician, and secretly wanted to see how Eva would react. It reminded her of her first week as the Princess’ handmaiden, chasing a scared and overwhelmed Eva down the corridors as she tightly clutched one of her precious books, wanting to volt out of any situation that involved a loud and chatty girl following her everywhere. Flora realises know that she had been a little bit insensitive to her poor friend, but in her defense she just wanted her Princess to live.

The eccentric doctor went from sibling to sibling, offering their hand for them to shake. Prince Hans took it surprisingly well, smiling warmly and shaking the offered hand with what would be considered a perfect grip, confident and secure, while Hange still kept letting out broken gottesreichan, not giving any thought to the mistakes. Friederich was confused, and as such, shook his hand with the same sentiment as he was feeling; the second Prince felt as if a strong wind knocked him out of his feet and all he could say was “huh?”.

But ah, Eva. Poor Eva. She had brief flashes of her childhood with Flora, of an overexcited girl running after her as she talked, and talked, and talked… until Eva began to enjoy her extroverted nature and secretly thanked her for dragging her out of her room or the library. But still, Doctor Hange Zoë managed to scare the living daylights out of her with their excited gasp and sparkling eyes. Eva clutched the Chief’s arm in a deathly grip for the second time that day.

Hange offered their hand out too, but then seemed to think about it. Did princesses shake hands too? Was it protocol? Well, Hange never truly cared about protocols, to be honest, Moblit usually took care of that. So maybe it was too forward? Should Hange bow? Did they thoroughly screw up in their eagerness–?

Eva raised her hand and took Hange’s as her brothers did, Forcing herself to paint a warm smile on her lips.

Her father and governess’ voices were screaming inside her head, louder than her own heartbeat. How dare you shake hands with a commoner, you, a princess of Gottesreich? A princess should never shake hands! Commoners must bow, must kneel, must–

“The pleasure is mine, doctor Zoë. I am afraid I do not know any word of Eldian yet, but thank you for your efforts. I hope to learn soon.” Eva would follow her brothers’ lead for now, as they discussed on their journey to Eldia. Father was not here. Father did not understand. If Eva was to settle here to start a new life and end it here, she could not start fights and discontent because of her father’s pride. It was the smart thing to do.

The coarseness of her father always upsetted her, even if she swallowed her discontent, not wanting to repeat that night.

Hange’s uncertain face instantly turned into a bright smile. They didn’t screw up! The doctor turned to say something to the Chief, who in return gained a brief smile. Then, Hange returned their attention to the siblings.

Levi was rendered speechless. He lost the stupid bet! Levi was sure the Princess would freak out upon Hange’s overly enthusiastic greetings, judging by how she had reacted earlier with Mike and his antics. He didn’t dare to turn to his left to see Mike’s moronic moustache smiling smugly at him.

“You owe me.” Mike’s grin could be heard in his voice.

“Shut up, you giant tree.” Damn it!

“Want come in? Show house?” Hange signaled to the main entrance of the Hospital, already thinking about the tour they would take the royal siblings and show how amazing their inventions and discoveries had been.

Should Eva say yes? No, that was arrogant of her, she couldn’t decide on a whim what or what to not do, even less without consulting it with her brothers or the Eldian leader. Didn’t the Eldians also have an itinerary already made for today? The people on the streets and outside the hospital were staring at them, curious about the scene in front of them. Eva was getting nervous. their stares were suffocating her, their attention adding more weight on her, her mind scrambling to find an appropriate response–

Moblit intercepted before Eva could begin, quickly saving the moment.

The Princess was grateful for it, feeling the weight of the decision on her shoulders diminish; she restrained her relieved sigh from escaping her lips, though. Moblit would handle it, thank God above! With a pang of pity in her heart, Eva watched Hange go from thrilled to crestfallen as Moblit spoke. Now she felt bad, knowing for sure they had the best intentions in their heart. Maybe the detour wasn’t that bad…?

But Hange immediately returned to their cheerful self.

“Must come other day! Question Erwin about it!” Hange clasped Eva’s hand in theirs, that exhilarated spark back in their eyes. “Must show you fun things!”

Eva pressed her lips into a tight, nervous smile and nodded, hoping it would be enough to quench Doctor Hange’s eagerness. Too forward! Too forward! Was this also an eldian thing? It seemed to do the trick, as they went back inside the hospital when an assistant called them from the door and enthusiastically waved goodbye.

“Apologies, your Highnesses.” Moblit deserved a raise and long vacations. It had been only a day, but it was clear for the gottesreichan guests that the poor man dealt with a lot, and it seemed that Doctor Hange occupied 80% of it. “I must ask for you to forgive Doctor Hange’s lack of protocol and take no offence by it. The Doctor really enjoys meeting new people and telling about their discoveries and new remedies.”

“No offense taken, Moblit. I’m sure Doctor Hange can make it up to us by showing us what they are so excited for, right?” Hans was genuinely interested, always asking the doctors and physicians back at the palace about everything, going as far as reading some books, although he understood half of it. He truly wanted to know Doctor Hange’s thoughts.

“Honestly, I’m curious now.” Friederich scratched his nose, mumbling. Hans sniggered, lowering his voice so only his brother and her sister’s handmaiden could hear him.

“You, willing to listen to non-battle-related things? Who are you and where is my dear brother?” Flora snickered, covering her mouth.

“Oi!” Friederich’s ears went red at the tips.

“We will have to come tomorrow, then.”

Moblit approached them, always with his calm smile on his face.

“May we continue, your Highnesses?”

Only when they resumed their tour, hearing Moblit talk with her brothers and the Eldian warriors escorting them, did Eva realise how Doctor Hange was wearing glasses.

Saying Eva was scared was not enough. Terrified? Frightened? Petrified? There was no adjective to describe the sheer terror those beasts instilled inside her heart. Those were not horses. No horse could be that monstrous size. Nope. No way.

She didn’t even reach the horse’s chest! And even one leg was as thick as her whole body! How did they even suppose she could get on one of them?

They were led to the village’s stables, where the stable hands and grooms had horses ready with their saddles. Each one of them had a different saddle pad, beautiful Eldian embroidery and motifs of golden and white thread on a teal fabric, most of them resembling the ones from the village’s houses, the themes of the needle work being mostly of mother nature herself. The leather of the saddles were beautifully taken care of, going from darker to lighter tints of brown, no doubt the artisans made a good work of the dyes and its delicate processes.

The horses looked healthy, robust and ready to be ridden by their masters. If Eva wasn’t as scared as she was, she would be admiring the animals and the pure strength they exuded.

Friederich was getting more invested into this part of the tour than the previous one. Yes, Eldia was beautiful and curiously different, but for Friederich, it was still boring; he had never been good at diplomacy and pleasantry visits. He had always heard of Eldia’s monstrous steeds, and was delighted to see such enormous and sturdy stallions, powerfully built and vigorous. You could see the raw power in them, and couldn’t wait to see what it felt to ride one of them. Maybe he could convince the Eldian Chief to trade some… Surely his enemies would piss themselves upon seeing a beast such as this charging against them. Yeah, maybe he could, preferably at the evening banquet. Now was not the time.

This was an important ritual for the Eldians.

Moblit gracefully explained how this was considered crucial when two souls got engaged in Eldia. Hunting was part of their culture, a huge one, and they would not bring shame to their traditions and ancestors. It was an art, and the Eldians deeply respected nature and what it provided for humankind, so the solemn air was palpable. For Eldians this was a trial, also. Those who proposed to their lovers would have to hunt a magnificent piece for their betrothed, to both show that they could provide for them and also have the strength, patience, wit and endurance used in hunting that would prevail in their lives.

Since the Chief was getting engaged to the Princess, he had to prove himself to her, so she would accept and approve of her future husband. This ritual held even more importance for who was performing it, and the villagers were actually curious about how well would their Chief perform; sadly, some couples had to use all three attempts to succeed. They hoped the Chief would succeed at his first try.

For Eva, it was basically a show to see how much of a peacock the man could be, not that different from those in court who would fawn themselves and their achievements to win her hand, and what came with it. Bitter? Maybe so. She was just tired of men, but would respect the Eldian tradition. After all, traditions were traditions, and one should always honour them, no matter what.

For Flora, it was just like her beloved romantic novels. A man proving their worth to their beloved? Man versus Beast? Oh, how she wished that for herself! Maybe one day she would find love here, in Eldia. Who knew what the future awaited for her?

“As tradition says,” Moblit spoke. “The future bride and groom must ride together, as the willingness of their souls to start a new journey.”

Eva froze.

No way.

No.

There had to be a mistake. She thought she would ride in a small carriage with Flora, as the men rode and discussed their matters. Her dress wasn’t suited for riding!

On cue, one of the stable hands brought a magnificent white stallion, it’s crest carefully brushed and not a single tangle and bit of dirt on it. It was bigger than the other horses, robust, and Eva understood now what people meant when they said pets and horses resembled their owners: a horse truly fit for a Chief; it had to be his judging by the proud look the man had on his eyes.

The beast patiently stood right in front of them, not showing an ounce of nervousness or uneasiness. How Eva wished she felt the same. She just wanted to bolt right out of there.

The Princess felt the Chief turn towards her, and automatically released her hold on his arm, although he kept her hand in his, gently guiding her towards the Chief’s own stallion. Eva didn’t want to get closer, even less mount on it. She was terrified! They stood in front of the beast’s head, admiring the noble profile and long golden lashes it had. Eva saw the Chief affectionately gaze at his horse, giving it a tender stroke on its muzzle. He looked back at Eva, inviting her to do the same, but the Princess remained rooted, frozen on the spot. The Chief nudged her to pet the stallion’s head by lifting her hand himself, slowly, always watching her reactions closely— the Chieftain knew he was pushing her, but Erwin believed this would help her lose a little bit of her fearful first impression.

Eva watched, between a mix of horror and wonder, how her gloved fingers brushed the horse’s muzzle, its heat warming up her palm. The stallion didn’t even flinch at the change, letting itself be pet. Eva was amazed, transfixed, not even aware of the Chief’s gaze on her. Slowly, a sensation of relief washed all over her body, feeling more secure now that the beast showed no trace of nervousness upon seeing a new face. Eva even let herself release a small smile, even though her heart was still pounding fiercely inside her chest.

More horses were brought to them, each warrior taking the reins of their own steed, as well as new horses for the Princes to ride. Friederich was beyond excited, eyes going from head to rear of the enormous beast he was lent to ride. He looked like a child in a candy shop back at the Capital.

Everyone waited for the Chief to mount first, as tradition dictated. The solemn air felt like a pressing stone on the Princess, not truly knowing what she was supposed to do besides having to ride with him. Should she say something? Perform a certain move? But the Princess stood rooted there, letting her never-fading anxiety begin to swallow whole again.

The Chief prepared himself to mount on, grabbing the pommel with his left hand and easily hoisting himself up when he set his foot on the stirrup. Every move he did looked effortless, as if even a child could do that with their eyes closed. If they thought Eva could achieve such levels, they were going to be thoroughly disappointed. The Chief extended his hand to the Princess, signaling her to come closer and join him on the horse.

The question is: how the hell is she supposed to get on it?

Moblit did not give any clues or hints about it, and everyone respectfully watched as the Princess approached the Chief with small steps. The Eldian leader never looked away from her, and she truly reminded him of a scared fawn.

What came next was a blur for the Princess. One moment she was standing right beside the Chief, timidly taking his hand and raising her other one to try to reach the pommel as the Chief did, her foot raising too to set on the lowered stirrup, and on the next moment Eva found herself being lifted as if she weighted nothing, strong arms pulling her up, easily turning her so she sat astride the horse with her back pressed against his chest.

Eva couldn’t focus on anything but the feel of his broad and strong chest snugly pressed against her back, despite the layers of thick clothing and cloaks between them. Eva did not pay attention to everyone else getting on their horses, or how Friederich couldn’t help the boyish grin on his lips, or how Flora turned beet red when she was made to mount on the same horse as the second Prince of Gottesreich, her confident and self-assured attitude gone for a moment. She couldn’t, not with how the Chief righted her stance with gentle hands, or how he straightened her own dress skirts and cloak without being prompted to do so, or how he guided her gloved hands to the crest and horn, so she had something to hold on to, even if the arms that caged her in wouldn’t let her slip and fall. The cold was forgotten for a moment, as well as her nervous tension.

Prompting the beast to an easy gait, the Chief led the party outside the stables and onto the main street. That’s when Eva snapped out of her trance and quickly ventured a look towards her handmaiden, seeing her grip the crest of the horse she was on with red cheeks. Both women crossed looks, twin bewildered expressions greeting each other. Eva silently cheered for her friend, but was too occupied herself with her own troubles to even waggle her eyebrows to tease her handmaiden.

This was going to be a long day.

The main street greeted them with the eldian villagers gathered on the sides of it, creating a passageway of curious and expectant faces. Everyone looked like they were waiting for a signal, eyes glued to the Chief’s horse and its riders, fingers and feet fidgeting. When the Chief and the Princess passed the first bystanders, the whole wide street exploded into cheers and shouts and blue.

The villagers threw flowers on them and the horses’ hooves, smiling and clapping as they passed by. Eva recognised the winter flowers from before, the same she wore now on her braid, and watched the villagers cover the entire street in a mantle of blue and white. The Chief did not turn to greet or answer them, keeping his head and eyes straight ahead in a solemn show of respect towards their faith in him. That’s when Eva understood this was part of the hunting ritual too, bidding farewell and good luck to the couple about to engage in the ritual. So, to not be disrespectful towards their culture and traditions, Eva did the same, looking straight ahead towards the main gate, into the sky blue path. A flash of the Chieftains’ eyes crossed her mind. The same blue.

It truly was a beautiful sight.

26 notes · View notes

ryiafaye · 3 years

Text

Eating Disorder Questions

1. When did you eating disorder begin?

2012 (I was 17)

2. What is your earliest related memory?

I started a food journal and weighing myself. Didn’t like how high the number was. Before that I had some body image issues related to puberty but ate whatever I wanted.

3. Favorite safe foods?

Non fat yogurt, berries, rice cakes

4. Favorite safe meal?

Coconut milk and low cal cereal (rice crispies or cheerios)

5. How do you handle hard days?

Not sure that this means but when I’m upset I either sleep, watch tv/read, or use harmful behaviors.

6. sw/cw/hw/ugw

147/142/152/ as low as possible but at least 108

7. How do you comfort yourself after a binge?

Purge or fast, I used to also burn myself.

8. What type of ED do you have?

I’ve had anorexia (b/p subtype), bulimia, and BED at different times. Right now mostly restricting and binging/purging occasionally.

9. When did you realize you had an ED?

Not sure but I remember when I started purging I realized it wasn’t just a “diet”.

10. Do you have any recovery tips?

Meal plans (healthy ones preferably made by a dietitian) are great for learning what normal portions are again. For starting recovery: a good pros/cons list and reflecting on everything your ED has taken from you. Also having at least one person to be accountable to, especially a professional if you have access to that.

11. Does anyone know about your ED?

Pretty much all of my friends and family. It’s hard to hide it when you’ve been in treatment so much.

12. What is an embarrassing ED related story you have?

Once when I was drunk with friends (really drunk, like I can barely remember everything) I started feeling nauseous and said in front of everyone “don’t worry, I used to be bulimic” (at the time I still was) then proceeded to purge in the bathroom with the door open. Also multiple occasions of shitting myself due to laxatives (no one knows about that).

13. Longest fast?

41hrs only drinking water and coffee

14. Do you have any other ED communities?

Yes, on Instagram

15. Have you recovered/relapsed before?

Yes, multiple times.

16. Favorite safe outfit?

Leggings and a baggy tshirt or hoodie.

17. Do you smoke?

Yes, nicotine

18. Coffee or tea?

I am a coffee addict but I like tea too

19. Diet soda or energy drinks?

I have never liked soda but I’m currently addicted to energy drinks.

20. Biggest sweet tooth craving/binge food?

Donuts or other pastries

21. Something you want to tell about your ED but you’ve never had the chance.

Not sure...maybe that I feel like I’ll never 100% recover. I’ve told at least one person everything else.

22. Best words of advice/love/experience to other ppl with EDs?

Recovery does get easier, though it sucks at first. Living with an ED isn’t really living, you deserve better. Things really are darker/less enjoyable when you’re sick.

23. Do you have a partner? If so do they know about you ED?

No, I’m single. My last S.O. was a huge cause of a very bad relapse a few years ago and I’m still healing from his abuse.

24. Do you want to recover?

I’ve been actively trying to recover for the last year. I don’t want to lose the life I’ve built for myself in that time, but relapse is so tempting.

25. Do you actually enjoy working out?

I’ve never really liked formal exercise (like things you do at the gym) but there are other things I like doing, mainly caring for and riding horses (I own two horses, help at the barn, and compete). I also like hiking.

26. Do you smoke?

Already asked that

27. If you smoke weed, do you get the munchies?

I only smoke cigarettes and vape

28. What is the thing you miss most that your ED has taken from you?

Finishing college and getting my license as a LVT and my dream job

29. Have you worked on your ED in therapy?

Yes, extensively

30. Have you ever been caught mid ED behavior? (Binging, purging etc)

Not exactly, except purging while inpatient, but I’ve had people question me right after using a behavior.

31. Do you eat healthy or not?

I don’t strictly eat “clean” but I don’t just eat junk. Mostly it’s just the amount of calories something has.

32. Does your ED affect your sex life/sexuality?

When I’ve been underweight my libido decreases which I don’t really mind.

33. What is your favorite unhealthy but safe food?

Low calorie popsicles and certain crackers/chips. I’ll eat anything in small quantities if it fits into my calorie limit.

34. What is one of your most obscure fears brought on by your ED?

Not sure. I used to think people thought I was ugly, now I’m just afraid they think I’m fat.

35. Least favorite part of your body?

Chest, stomach, hips, thighs, cheeks

36. Favorite part of your body?

Eyes, hair, arms, and wrists

37. Do you have a fast metabolism?

I don’t think so, at least not as fast as it used to be.

38. Dumbest weight loss advice you’ve ever gotten.

Not sure, no one has ever given me “advice”, it’s more of what I’ve over heard people saying. I think people that don’t understand that calories in/calories out matters more than what type of food you eat.

39. Do you try to practice body neutrality or positivity? How?

Body neutrality has helped my in the past. Mostly focusing on what my body can do rather than how it looks.

40. How do you handle ED related nausea, fatigue, sickness, weakness?

I avoid a lot of it by eating small amounts throughout the day and not fasting. I used to be able to fast a lot but don’t anymore cause I don’t want to feel like shit at work. Oh and I abuse caffeine to combat fatigue.

41. What was the moment you realized you had an ED?

Already asked

42. What food do you miss the most?

It’s less about the food and more about how I miss being able to eat without feeling guilty.

#tw eating mention #disordered eating #ed relapse #ed questions #eating disorder mention

10 notes · View notes

everything-laito · 3 years

Note

Corn why do people keep spelling Laito as Raito? 😬 Even in the intro (i forgot which one) they specifically use L for his name.

*inhale* *exhale* OOOO BOI

you probably didn’t expect to open a can of worms, but oop u got one, congrats!

Yeah, you’re right! It’s cuz Laito is his legitimate official spelling! It’s on his twitter, on official art, PVs, it’s legit everywhere! I actually made a post about it in the past just informing why it’s “Laito” and not “Raito.” It’s honestly just probably people being like “oh I know Japanese stuff, it is technically not an L!” (technically it’s not an “r” either; since Japanese did not originate with roman letters; I didn’t really mention that in that previous post I made either) I see people also say “Corderia” too but uh if you were going with the “oh I know romanized Japanese” kinda thing, you’d type “Koderia” if you were going with that pattern––considering Japanese uses the hard “C” sound, also known as a “K” sound in romanized letters. So that’s why it’s romanized as “K.” Same for Carla, Shu, and Yuma. I see people say “Karura,” “Shuu,” and “Yuuma” (although I am guilty for the penultimate and the latter, but that was before I started learning Japanese lmao I was 14/15 when I made that mistake at the time) and I’m like,,,, no,,, it’s not romanized like that; and I will explain why.

Until we started forming a global community in general, many languages didn’t have romanizations of them, just because their language is just... built Different. This happened to many other languages (Arabic, Farsi, etc etc) and that’s just how they are! I’m unsure how Katakana came to be (I think it’s more recent??? I believe?? compared to the rest of the language???? but I could be wrong), but it’s used a lot to phonetically spell out foreign words (it does have its other uses like spelling names or for onomatopoeia or for emphasis, but I’m gonna focus on the former.

Ik this may sound harsh but man it’s just,, oof dude lol. Just ticks me off. There’s no really “correct” way to romanize the language, since it’s just,,,, not Western. Many Japanese writers who use non-Japanese words or names in their story use Katakana to “spell” them out. So, the romanized (using romanized for this example, once again Katakana can be used to spell out other languages aside from anglo-centric ones) word intended by the use of Katakana is the correct one.

One HUGE example of this is shown in BNA. Since it’s an original anime and there’s no manga for it, the English translators didn’t have much to go off of for the name of a character, spelled as デェス・ルゥブ in Katakana. It’s pronounced as “Dessu Ruubu.” Watching the show (I saw it as it was coming out; it’s probably fixed now) I saw them cycle through different translations: “Death Love” and “Death Rube.” Even the character interacting with デェス・ルゥブ was like “omg what language is that???” Finally, the translators got the correct romanization for it, and the Katakana was meaning to spell "Déesse Louve" which is Latin. Is “Death Love” wrong? Is “Death Rube” wrong? Technically no, they can both be “correct” romanizations of the Katakana, however, it is not the intent of the original spelling or language used in this context. Hence why "Déesse Louve" is the correct romanization for this context.

I know these are fictional characters, but if they were real, you’d technically be misspelling their name. If you went up to Carla and was like “oh your name’s actually spelled ‘Karura’” he’d be like, “what the fuck.” Carla is an Anglo-Saxon name I believe, or at least just European from what I know. So yeah. It’s “Carla.” And Laito is spelled as “Laito.” It’s the intent of the original writers. Saying “Raito” doesn’t make you seem knowledgable of the language; because from what I’ve seen, it’s either people believing it’s correct from other people saying it, or people getting on some knowledge-high-ground being like, “oh I know correct Japanese and you don’t” when in fact, it’s doing the exact opposite.

But yeah I do tag some of my stuff as “Raito Sakamaki/Sakamaki Raito” because I know that’s another way to reach more Laito fans lmaooooo guilty as charged and yes I am doing it on this post too

Yeah, I’m being wicked petty, but it ticks me off when people, in general, think they know what they’re talking about when in fact they don’t, just to get on like some sort of high horse. Not accusing everyone who says “Raito” or “Shuu” is intending to be on a high horse, but I definitely know that those people exist. Happens a lot in politics, for example. Sure I’m not fluent in Japanese by a long shot and I know that, but I know a good chunk of the language’s nuances and I feel like I know enough about this certain topic to be able to talk about this. Hope that helped tho! If I’m wrong about anything, or if you have any clarifying questions, please let me know (as per usual).

bracing for the anon hate as we speak lmao also I love your new pfp, Strawberry!

#corn pops off #ask corn #yeah im being super petty but oh my god #diabolik lovers #dialovers #dialover #dl #laito sakamaki #sakamaki laito #raito sakamaki #sakamaki raito

43 notes · View notes

lettersofatransman · 2 years

Text

Anger: A Journal Entry

TW: Mentions of alcoholism, addiction, suicidal ideation, traumatic experiences

Let me know if there’s anything I missed!

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

Anger. Anger is all I feel. After all this time, after all the leeway I have given, I am still the problem. Every choice I make is wrong, every step I take is in the wrong decision. Even the things I can’t control, they’ve deemed the wrong “choice”.

I can’t help the fact that for such a joyous, momentous occasion, this huge milestone that is approaching, that I don’t want your storm clouds raining on my parade. Why would I want that energy surrounding my day, my moment? Why would I want you there to only take away the focus from me, to make my day about you, about your feelings? It’s only ever been about you my entire life. My emotions, my thoughts, my body, my life, all not even mine, they never were.

Everything about me had to reflect on you, had to be about you.

So yes, I killed your daughter. And I’m not sorry. Because she was trapped, shackled in pointless expectations, false narratives, clothes that would never fit or feel right. I buried her in the Marianas Trench, but really, how do you bury someone that never existed? I heard your words, your screams, I heard every word, I still traipse around this house like dust, perched on high shelves and higher selves. I hear everything you say. Everything he says. I don’t claim to be an empath, because I know that sensing and anticipating emotions are just a trauma response to understanding how to best behave to appease you. You can call me selfish, tell me how I twist your words, but I know better, I learned from the best. You can’t erase years of breaking someone down, you can’t erase years of stripping someone of their identity, of shattering mirrors so I could never look at who I was becoming, of the person staring back.

Why is it my fault? Why is it always me who has to play the villain in this? Is it easier? Does it soothe your guilty conscience, soothe your ego when you use my identity as a weapon? When you treat me like I’m him? You always said you wanted a boy, but now that you have one, you’d rather deny his existence, why?

Do you even pause to think what it was like for me? Do you even consider it? I know you don’t because again, my experiences are all about you, your feelings, your emotions, your pain. You weren’t there, you never were. But you weren’t there, no, I did this on my own, completely alone. My path, my journey, is paved in my sorrowful isolation. I did all of this by myself. I did this alone. I was, am, my caregiver, my support, my lover, my friend, my confidant, I am my everything. I went through, am going through, all of this alone. Reconstructing the crevices of my body, adjusting the hormone levels in my blood, dressing, working, studying, growing, all by myself. So is it really that surprising that I would continue my journey alone? It’s all I’ve ever known, the dirt beneath my feet, in my toes, and the company of my shadow pushing me along, even when I’m too tired to keep going, to keep fighting for my sense of self.

How dare you. How dare you place your shame, your guilt, your burdens on me. I no longer am your horse and cart, I am not here to carry the load you wish to not. Atlas couldn’t even begin to fathom the weights I carried as a child, a child. I did what I was told, I played the part, but even actors who are on their shows for 15 years, need something more. I do have them beat, however, by a few years. What is it about me that you hated? Am I a reminder of what you lack, of what you couldn’t be? Truly, I can’t pin it down. But what I know is that this is not what love is, it can’t be. Love isn’t control. Love is not Stockholm Syndrome, love is not fear, love is not captor and captured. It can’t be. I think you lived your life in survival for so long that maybe you forgot. I don’t blame you for that, actually, I mourn for you. But that can only go so far, because where I am breaking cycles that lasted in this family for generations, you continue to stay in their windstorms, going round and round.

I think it’s funny when you tell me that you don’t know me anymore like I ever existed. The irony of it all is that I know you, all too well. As I said, I spent my entire life predicting your emotions, your actions, so I knew what would happen when I came clean about the person that was screaming for release. Every conversation, every piece of information is carefully and cautiously manoeuvred, I’ve been playing Risk since before I could move the pieces.

I want to love, I want to feel joy, I want to be happy, I want to smile and feel the sun on my face, I want to do so many things. I don’t want to drink myself to the bottom of the bottle anymore, or smoke so much I can feel the regret in each drag, each puff, each inhale and exhale. I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to go through any of this alone. I want to feel the hands of others lifting me up, instead of my fingers under my chin, doing the lifting for me.

I’m tired. Tired of walking tightropes, performing balancing acts, watering down parts of me that I’ve grown to love, rewriting words to make them palatable, retelling stories that I can share with the public. I’m tired, and I’m angry, that despite stepping through the threshold, opening the door, I find myself in another, long hallway, with more doors, more thresholds, no light, and no mirrors.

I’m angry because, after everything, I am still shackled by my past, by my present, without my crystal balls to tell me where my future lies.

#journal #queer stuff #trans #queer writer #journal entry #blog writing #writeblr #lgbtq

2 notes · View notes

ootori-sibs · 3 years

Text

Kyoya's second shot

Episode 1: The shadow plan

Hello everyone! This is a new fic that I think you'll enjoy if you enjoy the summer camp fic! It picks up immediately after the anime, with of course a break for the host's to spend their summer holiday. It's not connected to the summer camp fic but has similar themes. Enjoy!

"So? Do we have a deal?"

Kyoya hummed in thought, slowly nodding at the woman on the other side of the screen. He'd spent a long time deliberating over this, months even, practically the entire summer holiday. It had been seeing his friends all happy and put together that pushed him to make this decision; if they can be so wonderful and happy then why couldn't he?

The woman nodded, a smirk playing on her lips. "And I'll get my company?"

"Of course, you'll be the primary advisor for him. Only after he becomes my husband, that is our deal." He clicks his pen and writes in his little notepad. "So that will be all hm?"

23:38 - Eclair has agreed to our deal, I will write up a contract soon to make sure there's no attempt at a breach of contract.

The woman- Eclair nodded, a vindictive smile on her face, an expression that sent shivers down Kyoya's spine. "Of course, Ootori. That's what we agreed on, not that I agree with your-" She looks him up and down, silently scoffing. "-lifestyle. But I do adore this plan of ours. Do tell me how you plan on seducing a taken man? Or did you forget about that little detail?"

Kyoya let a little growl at that, clenching his fists instinctively. "That's not for you to worry about, you're not exactly an example of purity in that regard, Eclair." He sighed, putting his note book down. "I will write up a contract for you, you'll see it soon. Au revoir, Eclair."

He ended the video call and sighed, flopping down onto his bed. God he felt awful going behind his friends like this- especially talking to Eclair of all people. But it had to be done, he simply couldn't take this kind of pain anymore. Something had to be done or he was literally going to lose his goddamn mind.

The first day back at school was going to be hell, Kyoya knew this from the moment the holidays had started, a month into the break he'd stopped agreeing to go on club outings with the group. He'd used so many excuses they'd even come to his house once to make sure he was alright. He felt so guilty for this, but he just couldn't do it- he wasn't strong enough. He'd definitely spiralled since the end of his second year- he barely had the strength to argue with his brother these days, Akito had begun to call him weekly to make sure he was alright, Akito never showed that much care.

The moment Kyoya woke up on Monday, he knew he had to get right to work. He sat at his vanity, staring into the cold, dead eyes that had viewed the world so coldly before the hosts came into his life. He sighs, it'll all go back to playing happy families once he does what he needs to. He's only hurting himself feeling guilt like this. He takes his little palette of makeup, making sure to hide any signs of tiredness or stress with concealer and foundation. He capitalised on the sharpness of his eyes with some eyeliner, only a hint of the lightest purple eyeshadow he could find and just a little bit of blush. He made sure to do his lips in a nice deep and dark plum shade, he'd only ever worn makeup twice before, but he knew a little from watching Fiyumi do her magic. Not to mention he'd done his research.

He had brought a small flask to school with him, just a little one, stolen from his father's office. It wasn't anything too strong, just some honey whiskey, he didn't even know what was in the flask until he'd taken a sip. He sighed heavily and stepped out of his limo and through the gates of the school, instantly there were eyes on him, he wasn't sure if it was because of his host status or his makeup. If it was the latter he couldn't care less if they judge him, they've seen him in worse.

He slowly made his way to his classroom, taking out his notebook to take notes on anything interesting he notices.

7:39 - Seika Ayanokoji has a new bag, likely bought for her by her father. It's one of the new lunar releases from the twins mother, I notice she doesn't appear to have the matching heels- but it's possible that she simply chose to not wear them to school. Further investigation will be needed.

7:43 - The one dubbed 'Princess Teacup' has been spotted on the phone with her fiancé, near the window opposite her classroom door. They're discussing his roommate owning a glass tea set, nothing too much of note, but the idea of a glass tea set sounds like something the club should invest in. I will discuss this with Tamaki.

7:50 - Kuze and his friends are blocking the corridor, he's bragging to his friends about something or other that his fiancée did for him over the holiday. Unfortunately I will have to go the long way around, I may even arrive after Tamaki does.

When he finally got to the classroom, Tamaki was already sitting there- just as Kyoya had predicted. Kyoya closed his eyes, bracing for whatever Tamaki may say- because he knows it's going to be extra. He's instantly proven right as Tamaki rushes at him, hugging him tightly and muttering words in both English and French, only settling back into Japanese when he's calmed down slightly. "Kyoya, Mon Ami! Are you alright?? Feeling better? Come on Kyoya, let's sit down."

He drags Kyoya over to their seats, staring at him in worry. He's clearly waiting for Kyoya to say something, but Kyoya just sighs- causing Tamaki to interrupt him before he could even begin to speak. "Kyoya, please speak to me… we were all so worried about you…" Yet they'd only elected to visit him once, only once over the entire summer holiday had they cared enough to come and check on him- even his brother cared more than that. Sure, Kyoya loved Tamaki with his entire heart, but he could still feel bitter and hurt for the neglect of the care Tamaki was trying to imply.

"Apologies, Tamaki." Kyoya didn't want to apologize, he had nothing to apologize for. But he knew he had to keep Tamaki happy, that was the most important thing here- keep the king happy. But for some reason this made Tamaki frown, guilt in his eyes. Kyoya didn't understand it, he'd stepped down from any argument that might arise, he'd let Tamaki's words hit without any fighting back, and Tamaki was sad?

"Why are you apologising?"

To placate you. That was what the truth was, but Kyoya knew he couldn't just say that. He sighed for the second time this morning, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "For the mild amount of concern I appear to have caused you and the others." It was honest, when they'd come to visit that one time- Kyoya had gotten angry at them; how dare they care when he is so unable.

Tamaki sighs, for one of the first times, he looks tired. "Alright Kyoya, just remember you can always talk to me. Alright?" Kyoya just nodded in response to that, taking out his notebook.

8:14 - Tamaki appears to be expressing worry towards me. He lies about the entire club worrying and seemed almost surprised when I chose to apologize in order to placate him.

Up in the club room, they were getting ready for the first session of the year. When each club member walked in, the first thing they did was ask Kyoya if he was feeling better, it was highly disorientating. But it wasn't until Haruhi walked straight up to him and said; "if you're having mental health issues, senpai- I can recommend a couple of resources," with a caring smile on her face, that Kyoya realised why they were being so considerate of his presence…. They were trying to show the care that Tamaki had implied, and Haruhi even had the nerve to assume she knew what Kyoya's problem was.

It was disgusting. How dare they care so much, where were they when he was actively spiralling? Off doing whatever nonsense they were up to. Now he actually had a plan to get what he's always wanted, they decide to care about him? They had two whole years to care, they don't get a third chance. Kyoya simply sat in silence when the others were doing their hosting, just writing his emails.

To: [email protected]

Cc:

Subject: Meeting.

Nekozawa, I have a proposition for you. I would like to meet with you and some others in the second school hall at around 7 pm this Friday. I have some things to say that might interest you.

Until then,

Ootori Kyoya.

He sent almost identical emails to the head of the newspaper club, the head of the karate club and then began to write a version for a certain someone they'd met in the spring half term: Arai. Now Kyoya didn't know the guy's email, he didn't even know the guy's last name. But it only took an hour to find it, he knew enough about the guy after all.

To: [email protected]

Cc:

Subject: Meeting.

Hello Arai, you don't know me. I don't believe we've even spoken directly. But I'm one of Haruhi Fujioka's friends, the name's Kyoya. I'm writing to offer you a unique opportunity, especially for a commoner. At 7 pm Friday, you were invited to attend a private meeting in Ouran Academy's second hall. As well as myself, there will be three people in attendance. I do recommend you come, it will give you a huge opportunity you do not want to turn down.

Thank you very much,

Ootori Kyoya.

He knew he had to use gentler wording with the commoner, from what he'd seen, Arai is a softer gentleman, with just as much of a moral high horse as Haruhi. He in no way wanted to scare the boy off, he knew more business minded manners tended to catch commoners off guard. It was a lot more gentle with the commoner's email than with the others, for the others knew what he was like, and had no qualms with it. He sighed after sending the emails, leaning back in his chair slightly.

Of course the first day was fairly harmless, nothing truly important happened. But Kyoya did notice how Haruhi still wasn't completely affectionate with Tamaki, what an ungrateful girl.

13:27 - Haruhi doesn't deserve him. She refuses to give him the love he so deserves, she must be dealt with.

At the end of the day, Kyoya packed up his bag, kind of irritated that no one pointed out his immaculately done makeup, at least not to his face. The twins hopped over the moment he thought that, ready to say those exact words; "why are you wearing makeup? We've been wondering all day."

Oh that is wonderful, Kyoya felt pleased now, the idea that his little attempt at makeup had the club fashionistas pondering it the whole day was highly pleasing. Especially when Kaoru added on to what they'd said with; "you look really good by the way, is that violet eyeshadow or mauve and white?" Oh that might not have been who he was trying to get the attention of, but the fact he got someone's attention still cheered him up significantly.

"Actually it's magenta with some violet shimmer." He adjusted his glasses so they could see better. "I'm glad to hear you like it."

The twins nod, humming in approval. "Why are you wearing it though?" Hikaru repeats the question, the same question Kyoya had purposely avoided.

He sighed, moving his head slightly so the light glints off of his glasses. "Does it matter?"

"Considering that brand of lipstick is specifically marketed to attract people, I'd say it's curious you chose that one specifically." Kaoru spoke with a devious smile on his face, instantly hitting the nail on the head. Kyoya wasn't even sure how to proceed, they'd caught him already, and he was furious at that- can a boy not be wickedly homosexual in peace?

"Well is that really any of your business?" He raised an eyebrow, challenging the twins, did they really want to be that brave? Clearly they didn't, from the way they raised their hands in surrender and left the club room.

Kyoya let out a soft sigh of relief, his eyes drifting over towards Haruhi and Tamaki… they were cuddling on the chaise lounge, kissing occasionally too- not a care to the fact he was remaining in the room. He felt the rage growing in his core, he could just throttle that commoner.

16:30 - The happy couple are showing off their affections finally, it makes me sick how they care not for how I may judge them. I was under the impression Haruhi cared not for these frivolous affections.

#ohshc #kyoya ootori #kyotama #tamaki souh #tamaharu #haruhi fujioka #kaoru hitachiin #hikaru and kaoru #hikaru hitachiin #nekozowa #kyoyassecondshot

22 notes · View notes

hoodwinkd1 · 3 years

Text

the stars that shine - Ch 3

Ch 2 here.

Chapter 3: I was sixteen when suddenly

“Excuse me, esteemed guests,” the herald called out. “A toast, from Queen Mother Georgina.”

The room silenced quickly, people putting down their dessert forks and picking up their flutes.

Hollin watched his mother rise, fixing her skirts and simpering at the crowd. “My dearest friends, thank you all so much for joining us for such a wonderful evening to celebrate Adarlan’s future.”

They couldn’t all be her dearest friends, could they? Considering Hollin didn’t recognize over half the faces, he highly doubted it.

“The fall harvest has produced more bounty than anyone predicted, so tonight is to celebrate the hard work of our farmers and all those who financially support them.” She paused for a moment, allowing light applause to flutter through the room.

He caught Dorian’s eye. Although the King looked engaged and supportive externally, Hollin could read the boredom oozing from him. They shared a look, both thinking that this dinner couldn’t celebrate farmers if none had been invited.

“And of course,” Georgina continued. “Tonight is celebrating my son as well. Happy birthday, Hollin. May this year provide even more success for you and the kingdom.”

She raised her glass against his, then sat down.

“Thank you,” he muttered, taking a large sip of champagne. “The dinner is...lovely.”

His mother preened. “Oh, of course my dear. Anything for your sixteenth.” She sighed and drank half her glass. “I cannot believe how grown up the two of you are. I remember, oh it feels like yesterday, when you first rode a horse--”

Her closest courtiers leaned in to hear the story, right as Hollin tuned her voice out. Only one glass, and he could sneak off while pretending to “work the room.”

Luckily, Dorian jumped in as soon as the story ended with him falling on a stable boy. “Hollin, would you join me? I spotted some people I should greet.”

His brother had been more supportive than usual in the past two year. After Hollin had begun his training, with a mortifying first lesson, Dorian had quietly stepped in to help. Although the two of them lacked the easy conversation between many siblings, they had come to some sort of arrangement. Hollin could find Dorian whenever he felt overwhelmed, without fearing judgment or scorn.

“Do you think she’s ever met a farmer?” Hollin wondered, as they navigated past tables. “Actually spoken to one before?”

Dorian chuckled. “I always forget how sheltered she’s been as Queen. Even during the damn war, Mother was too far away to interact with any soldiers or common people.”

“So was I.” The words flew out of Hollin’s mouth before he could think.

Dorian stopped walking. “What? You were a child.” He turned his head sharply. “Hollin, you can’t possibly feel guilty for-”

“Your Highnesses!” A family approached them. Hollin recognized the parents as Ladies Bernice and Nerissa Finnick, who oversaw much of the sea commerce in Rifthold, leading three of their children towards the princes.

Nerissa reached out a deep bronze hand. “Excuse the interruption. If you have a moment, Your Majesty, I would like to request a meeting for next week.”

Dorian took her hand and smiled warmly. “Of course. Hollin, have you met the Finnicks yet?”

Maybe his brother didn’t have his back all the time.

“Yes, Anya and I have had some classes together.” He nodded at the middle daughter.

Anya stepped forward as the adults began some boring conversation. “These are my brothers, Galen and Sebastian.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hollin responded, shaking both of their hands. He hated the formality these parties required, since most of his peers treated him quite casually in other settings. “Are you enjoying the evening?”

Galen smiled. “The food was excellent, so I can’t complain.” Hollin had to glance up to look at him, the whole family annoying tall, tan, and beautiful.

“Have you heard any news from Terrasen?” Anya asked. “From Evangeline?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer her question, whether she simply meant to further the conversation or if she wanted a certain piece of information. “Nothing...particular, but the royal family seems to be doing well.”

“Ah, well. I’ve written to her a few times, but she hadn’t mentioned any plans to return. We all miss her so much,” Anya sighed.

Oh. Apparently everyone on this damn planet loved Evangeline and expected them to be best friends.

“I’m sure she knows she’s welcome here anytime.” Hollin took a step back. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few more guests to greet.”

He was lying, of course. Hollin snuck into the kitchens as soon as he maneuvered past prying eyes, content to finish the evening with another round of dessert and absolutely no more niceties.

---

Thick snow layered Orynth, as it always did in late winter, but the dining room inside the palace was downright toasty. Evangeline’s gaze kept catching on the massive window across from her, the white powder falling down in countless patterns and twists.

“Excuse me, Queen speaking!” Aelin called out, tapping a knife against her champagne flute to command everyone’s attention. “I’d like to make a toast.”

Evangeline started at the interruption, turning away from the snowfall, as Lysandra rolled her eyes from the seat next to her. ��Just keep it brief, Galanthynius. Today isn’t about you.”

Aelin pouted for a moment, garnering laughs from the table, then shrugged her shoulders. “Fair point.” The two women shared a grin before she turned to face the larger group.

“Today is about two of my favorite people,” she began. “Lysandra and Evangeline, I am incredibly happy that we all came together to celebrate such happy news.”

Aedion leaned across the table and caught Rowan’s eye. “‘Two of my favorite people’ and we aren’t even included? Pure misandry,” he muttered. The silver-haired Fae chuckled lightly.

“Exactly,” Aelin shot back. “Now hush, male. Eva, even with the most chaotic group of parental figures, has managed to grow into one of the kindest, wisest, and most genuine young women I have ever met. I hope this year brings you joy and fancy jewelry, both of which you deserve plenty of. Happy sixteenth birthday, my darling.”

Evangeline blew her aunt a kiss. She couldn’t put into words what this entire evening meant to her, how unbelievable it was that the Queen and King of Terrasen hosted her birthday dinner. She glanced down the table, smiling at all of the family and friends that looked at her with such love in their eyes.

“Lys,” Aelin continued. “My best friend. You took care of me, and so many other people in this room, when we needed it most, giving you more than enough practice for this next chapter in your life. I think I might actually be more excited than Aedion for this baby.”

Aedion leaned back in his chair. “Not possibly, cousin.”

“Didn’t I already hush you?” Aelin scrunched her nose. Evangeline held back a giggle at their dynamic. “Anyway, I can’t wait to force Adara to befriend your child, just so we all have another excuse to spend time together. Cheers to these two beautiful women.”

“Cheers!” The whole table cried out, glasses clinking and liquid sloshing.

Lysandra tapped her glass of sparkling juice against Evangeline’s. “I’m a bit sad that you get to drink alcohol while I can't. I always imagined sneaking you liquor on a ladies’ night.”

Aedion put down his juice as well. The couple had agreed that if Lys couldn’t drink, neither of them could. “I always wanted to take her to one of the taverns in Rifthold. Watch little Eva drink her first ale while taking men for all their worth in cards.”

“I’m not that good,” Evangeline laughed. “And anyway, this is a very classy way to have my first, proper glass of alcohol.”

“Proper?” Rowan interjected, bouncing the crown princess on his leg. “Does that mean you’ve had an improper drink before?”

Aelin gasped. “My devious little angel”

“No!” Evangeline scrunched her nose. “I just meant, first drink beyond accidental sips and tasting it from your glasses. You’re all horrible.”

Aedion shrugged. “My first drink was when I was fourteen. Stepped off the battlefield and took a very large sip of something disgusting.”

Lysandra patted his knee affectionately. “That’s a terrible story. We probably all had bad experiences during our first time.”

“First time? Lys, you make it sound like something dirty,” Aelin teased. “My first time was quite romantic-”

“Really? Bringing him up at a nice dinner?” Rowan drawled. “In front of our child?”

Evangeline finally stopped trying to hold back her laughter and huge smile. She would miss this family, miss the ease and joy that came with every conversation during her next round of travels.

----

Evangeline all but threw herself onto the lavish bed, too exhausted to even consider taking a bath, though she most definitely needed one. Banjali might be the loveliest city she had ever seen, if not remarkably warm in the early springtime.

She had a week left in Eyllwe, with most of that time spent travelling. Aelin had pulled her aside before her visit, and asked her if she would be prepared for a visit to Calaculla to demonstrate Terrasen’s grief for the horrors committed there. Evangeline, of course, agreed to the detour.

As if to make up for the depressing finish to her stay, the Ytgers’ had ensured her time in the capital city was as happy as possible. The younger crown prince in particular put in the most time and effort to show her around the city. Evangeline didn’t mind, not when Deji was nice enough to look at.

She sat up at the sound of a sharp knock. “Time for dinner,” Fenrys announced from the other side.

“I haven’t had any time to change!” Evangeline protested, scrambling towards the vanity, eyes widening in shock at the state of her hair. “I thought we had an hour!”

She didn’t love that this trip was chaperoned, but Lysandra and Aedion had insisted. The ship would travel past Skulls Bay, a place where Aelin had apparently made more enemies than friends.

“We would have had an hour, if you didn’t stop for cake on the walk back.” Fenrys opened the door carefully. “Can I come into the sitting room?”

“Ugh!” Evangeline huffed, pulling her hair out of its braids. She walked over to the entrance of her bedchamber and slammed the door between them shut. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

She could hear him pacing around. “If we get any snide remarks for being late, I’m tattling on you to Aedion.”

Evangeline stuck her tongue out, although he couldn’t see her. She didn’t have time for a proper reply.

Seventeen minutes later, the two of them walked down to one of the smaller dining rooms. The Queen stood at the entrance, looking impeccable as always. Evangeline looked...passable, clothed in a fresh, crimson dress and golden hair somewhat brushed.

“Hello, Your Majesty,” she greeted. “I hope we aren’t late.”

The Queen waved her off. “Tonight is a rather small affair, do not fret. Lord Fenrys, I hope you don’t mind that we planned on separating the children from the adults tonight? The boys have a couple friends with them and they do hate it when we eavesdrop.”

Fenrys puffed his chest a bit at the use of his title. “Perfectly fine by me. Assuming you can handle yourself, Lady Evangeline?”

“Of course,” she responded, her polite tone at odds with the elbow she shoved into his side when the Queen turned to lead them in.

Kharis, the elder prince, walked up to them. “Good evening. May I escort you in?” He offered up his arm, which Evangeline took with one last wave to the adults.

He steered her towards another door that he opened to reveal a room with a much smaller table. She was met with four pairs of eyes, only one of which she recognized.

“This is Lady Evangeline, from Terrasen,” Kharis announced.

“Oh please, just Eva,” she insisted. “Pleased to meet you.”

One of the girls stepped forward. “I’m Athaliah, and these are my siblings, Jethro and Phebe.”

They all took their seats then, and luckily, conversation flowed easily. The three of them were not nobility, but their grandmother had served with the Queen’s father. Evangeline didn’t quite understand how he had managed to get his daughter on the throne after an alleged rebellion against the former King, but she didn’t think it polite to ask.

Phebe and Deji seemed to have some special connection, joking on a level that suggested intimacy. Evangeline forced herself to feel any sort of disappointment at their banter. Even if she thought he had flirted with her, nothing actually happened.

“Would you like a drink?” The boy of her thoughts interrupted the conversation Evangeline was currently having with Athaliah. “We nicked some spiced wine.”

“That sounds lovely,” she replied. Deji handed her a glass, seating himself next to her on the couch.

“Where will you go next?” Athaliah asked, continuing on. “Back to Terrasen?”

Evangeline nodded. “My ward, Lord Darrow, is expecting me back in a few weeks. We have some additional time, but quite honestly, I’m excited to sleep in a familiar bed again.”

“Our accommodations aren’t good enough for you?” Deji teased.

Evangeline scrunched her nose at him. “Of course not! But I am unaccustomed to this heat so early in the year.”

Jethro called for his sister, the others beginning to play a card game of sorts. She left them alone on the couches, Evangeline scrambling for something to keep the conversation going.

“Can I show you something?” he asked.

Perfect. “How far is this ‘something’?” Evangeline brought the glass to her lips, enjoying the slow buzz of the wine.

Deji stood, holding out his free hand. “Not far. I wouldn’t dare make you walk for too long in this heat.”

She followed him out of the room, down the hall, and towards a large balcony that she hadn’t noticed before. He held open the opaque doors, gesturing for her to step out first.

Evangeline let out a small gasp at the view. From this angle, the ocean seemed endless, and the moon looked close enough to touch. Large, swaying trees framed the water’s edge. The entire scene glittered with starlight, more real than a painting, yet more beautiful than real life.

“This is...unbelievable.”

Deji leaned against the stone railing. “It’s my favorite view, especially at night. I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t see and hear the ocean most days.”

Evangeline joined him on the railing. “You might have ruined me as well. I’ll miss this dearly back home.”

They glanced over each other at the same time, bringing a heated blush to her face. His skin was too dark to show it, but she prayed she wasn’t alone in this feeling.

“Can I kiss you?” she blurted out, then immediately covered her mouth with her free hand. Oh gods, she might as well fling herself from the balcony now. Evangeline wanted to blame the wine, but truthfully, one drink hadn’t clouded her judgement at all. “I’m so sorry, that was--”

Deji cut her off, grabbing her hand gently and holding it in his own. “I was afraid you were going to make me ask you.”

He leaned in then, pressing his lips against hers. Evangeline’s eyes fluttered shut, experimentally deepening the kiss and moving her mouth against his.

It was sweet, if not a bit clumsy and filled with nervous giggling. Everything a first kiss should be.

----

Dorian found him in the training ring, one morning. Hollin wanted to get reacquainted with walking up earlier, now that spring had arrived and the afternoons would soon be too warm for exercise.

"Do you need something?" he huffed, talking a second to chug some water. The endurance circuit was quite honestly kicking his ass.

His brother shrugged. "I feel bad that I didn't warn you last time, so I'm telling you in advance now. Evangeline and Fenrys Moonbeam will be staying in the palace for a few days on their way back from Eyllwe, arriving in one week."

Hollin spun on his heel, pretending to grab a towel to keep his face hidden. "It's a bit last minute for royal guests, isn't it?"

Dorian sighed. "They're dear friends, not courtiers. Perhaps we could do a more casual dinner, allow you the chance to get to know both of them better. I'm sure Fenrys would offer to train you a bit as well."

"Is that the purpose behind their visit? Give me training with a feared Fae warrior?" Hollin didn't cover the sarcasm in his tone.

"No, I believe Eva wanted to see her friends here, something she doesn't regularly get a chance to do. Are you done with the questions?"

"Yes. Fine. Whatever." He pushed himself up, abandoning the towel. A bath would do nicely for his aching muscles. "Add the required events to my schedule."

Dorian mumbled something under his breath, but thankfully turned to leave. Right before he re-entered the main hallway, he called out: "It wouldn't hurt you to have friends!"

"I have two!" Hollin called back. "Who needs more than that?"

#tog #throne of glass #fanfic #hollin havilliard #evangeline tog #dorian #eyllwe #sjm #sarah j maas #fic

9 notes · View notes

loquaciousquark · 4 years

Text

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E91 (Jan. 21, 2020)

Good evening, everyone! Sorry about missing last week; @eponymous-rose was out of town and I had some other commitments. Regardless, here we are! Brian is looking handsome and cold, as are Sam & Travis on the couch. Everyone is wearing coats. Is the heat broken?

That said, tonight’s guests are Travis Willingham & Sam Riegel.

Brian starts us off asking Sam if he’s remaking the Wire in Beverly Hills. Sam basically embodies that hello fellow kids meme tonight in a hand-knitted beanie from his wife, a bomber jacket, a yellow tee, and skinny jeans. They quickly photoshop in smoke trailing out of his mouth. We’re just a few minutes in and this is off the rails already.

Announcements: The next issue (#5) of Vox Machina comics comes out Wednesday, Feb. 19! It’s also available online at Dark Horse Digital and Comixology. And that’s it! Huh.

Episode 91: Stone to Clay

Brian tells us this is the first time ever to have Sam & Travis alone on Talks. I’m stunned and so are they. Sam says, “between me, Brian, Dani, and Travis right now, there’s four tens on this show right now.”

We’re already into questions less than ten minutes into the show. Truly this is a remarkable night.

63 in game days and 21 episodes passed between Caduceus’s first mention of Stone (episode 71) and Fjord connecting the dots. Travis blames the internet connection and his really bad ADHD night, as that was the night he and Laura remoted in from the hotel.

Brian tells us that when Ashley used to skype in, she could only see Matt & couldn’t see or really hear anyone else.

Travis says there was a huge delay for him between mouths moving and the audio coming through, and then that audio was pretty distorted. Laura could handle it okay, but Travis just heard a jumble and couldn’t parse it.

Sam took a CBD bath the other day and found it exactly as relaxing as a normal bath. Sam & Travis commiserate about taking baths only to have their knees pop out of the water. Tall people problems smh

Caleb & Nott completed the spell in less than a week, including dealing with the Angel of Irons & brokering peace treaties. Travis though the laughter was going to be Helas.

Travis says he definitely didn’t hear the name the first time (he remembered dust but not stone from the lava pits). “Look! Yes! No, I was not listening before! Thursday nights are my times to enjoy my friends and food! Marisha is an amazing note-taker; why would I ever take my own? This is how I got through college!”

Sam says he keeps a mission checklist in his head and has for ages. He has a page in his notebook labeled “To Do” that includes things like visiting Kiri or Shakaste, in case they have downtime and need ideas.

Travis asks if he continues writing in his (apparently) very small handwriting, and Sam says he has to leave room for Laura to draw all her dicks. They all marvel that she is actually a very good artist.

Travis honestly still thinks the Stone name is a huge coincidence, especially since Taliesin didn’t have access to Fjord’s last name when he created Caduceus’s last name and backstory. Sam challenges Travis that even if that were true, doesn’t he think Matt will find a way to tie it together?

Travis says Fjord doesn’t want anything to do with the last name and it’s not even his real name. He’s not convinced this isn’t a coincidence.

Travis did a lot of research into orphanage naming conventions when coming up with Stone. He does have a backstory as to how the orphanage manager picked Stone as his name.

Travis thinks Matt would have emphasized the Stone name more sooner if it had been a true connection and not coincidence.

Brian: “He does like to take credit for coincidences, doesn’t he?”

Nott didn’t think there was a catch in the ritual; Sam was more surprised they were allowed to achieve the milestone at all. He was shocked it happened so soon in the story and that the spell is relatively easy to cast.

He didn’t know it would fail, but there was a moment when he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go through with it. Travis agrees everyone was shocked when it didn’t work.

Fjord’s current stance on faith and destiny hasn’t changed since the last time he discussed it. Faith is a slow thing for Fjord and he really does think the name is a coincidence.

Sam as a player is excited to see what comes next for Nott; “if she had been transformed into Veth at that moment, I would have been excited to see what comes next. The fact that it’s still Nott makes me excited too. I’m excited to see more of Nott since she’s the best character in the M9.” He also confesses he was a bit relieved, in part because it’s delayed the inevitable. At some point she must decide if she is going to stay or go with the M9.

Cosplay of the Week: @kajicosplays on instagram of a lovely lady Percy. Brian: “Isn’t it fun when Taliesin’s characters live?”

Deep down, Nott knows she will do the transformation at some point, but at that last moment where she had to make a decision she had to check in with herself to make sure she was ready. Sam Riegel as a D&D player also knows that you have to trust your DM and make choices.

Brian misreads the word “ribbing.” Sam teaches Travis what rimming is. We all learn a lot about each other.

Sam thinks Fjord can realize when the time comes to set jokes aside. He thinks Fjord was very respectful. Travis has honestly forgotten that the conversation took place.

Travis has Dani answer from Fjord’s perspective. It’s actually pretty insightful, talking about how Fjord recognized someone hesitant to give up these newfound powers that have become intrinsically tied to self-worth.

Fjord has always been loyal, and Travis sees his protectiveness of the M9 as a logical extension of this.

Right now, he has found some agency & self-direction and is hopeful to share that sense with everyone else (he especially mentions Yasha).

Sam & Travis start quoting from Half-Baked. This is chaos.

Nott does want to stay with the M9, but she also wants to go home for sure, both of those things. The kiss with Caleb wasn’t necessarily a goodbye; it felt like the closing of a chapter. It felt like something to mark the end of the experience.

Now they’re quoting Beverly Hills Cop. Oh, boy.

“You look like you wrote Pitch Perfect.” When did this turn into a roast?

Fjord has no memories earlier than the orphanage (The Driftwood Asylum). There were a couple dozen kids there aside from him; Travis thinks some of them might have been named Stone. It also operated as a small child-labor workshop for carpentry & woodshop stuff. “It was a terrible place all around.” He has no images of parents or being dropped off.

Sam thought the Nott transformation would be more endgame, though he feels it makes sense that it’s not. “While Nott transforming into Veth was my original goal, what’s great about these long games is that your goals can change two or three times before the end. Now I can explore all these other things: does she want to go back and be a housewife? How does she rectify her obligations to her husband and child to the life that she’s made with the M9? It’s so exciting and interesting.”

Brian asks a hypothetical: if she could transform back but lose all Nott’s memories, would she do it? Sam: “Oh, that’s tough. I don’t know.”

Fanart of the Week: a lovely piece by @pen_draws with everyone in the hot tub.

Travis is very trepidatious about returning to the open ocean after rejecting Uk’otoa. He wants to make sure the third temple is sealed. It feels like it would be too easy for someone not to come and try to collect the job he left half-finished. He also wants to go back to Darktow.

Sam doesn’t know if Nott is still in love with Yeza, although she definitely still loves him. He’s playing with the idea of a high school sweetheart being exposed to the world and then going back home. But Yeza’s amazing, a great guy, perfect. “I guess we’ll find out when/if she turns back into Veth.” Sam feels guilty talking about him. “He’s a fictional character and I feel guilty that he might be watching the show.”

Neither Nott nor Fjord trust Essek. Travis: “He just went from being cold and aloof to being really warm. I know there’s been time and he’s lived an isolated life, but...time will show if he’s being genuine. All of our haunches were up. All of us were on level five alert.” He’s being so helpful that Travis doesn’t trust Mercer with him.

Fjord never ever considered becoming a paladin of the Traveler. “No. Fuck no!” The Wildmother reached out and directly intervened to save him. Travis gets super creepy bad vibes from the Traveler’s relationship with Jester (Sam agrees).

Nott feels more pressure when her own problems become the focus. It’s hard for her to open up and talk about her feelings. She’d rather pick up on other people’s problems. Sam also acknowledges it’s more pressure on him (and anyone) as a player when the whole table is looking at you.

And that’s that! Is it Thursday yet?

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long post for ts

463 notes · View notes

imagines-all-day-everyday · 4 years

Text

Destiny

Requested by anonymous:

‘Can I have a request where the Witcher is hurt and the reader finds him and she does healing magic and she is healing him and when he wakes up he adores her and cannot get her out of his mind and in a way he felt like destiny put him there to find her and decides to do everything possible to keep her with him’

Warnings: fluff, violence, swearing

Notes: FIRST WITCHER IMAGINE FOR GERALT MY BBY <3

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

“I think I figured out how we can slay it we just-”

“No need witch, I’ve hired someone else to do the job.”

“You - what?” *yn* exclaimed, her voice echoing through the large library.

“Don’t look so surprised, you’ve had weeks to kill the bloody thing.” Zandah retorted back.

“Does the Mayor know? I don’t think he’d be too pleased to know his trusted advisor had gone behind his Mage’s back.” *yn* snarled as she stormed over to stand chest to chest with the man.

“No of course he doesn’t know, but this problem needs to be dealt with. The people are growing angry.”

“I told you I needed time, I don’t know what the creature is -” *yn* began, trying desperately to defend herself under the scornful eye of Zandah.

“Which is why I hired an expert in the field.”

“An expert? What do-” *yn* cut herself off, her eyes widening in realisation. “A Witcher. You hired a Witcher.”

“Not just any Witcher. The white wolf, Geralt of Rivia.” Zandah explained as he moved past her to grab a book off the shelf causing *yn* to drop the numerous books in her arms onto the table.

“Are you daft? The only thing the mayor hates more than Witchers are elves.”

“Which is why I am going to tell him you killed the beast. That way we’re all happy, aren’t we?” Zandah explained as he stood up on a stool to reach for another book. “Sure you’ll live with the guilty conscious of taking someone’s credit and not being good enough at your job, but that’s a consequence I’m happy to live with.”

“And when is this Witcher coming to slay the beast?” *yn* huffed, forcing herself to ignore his scathing words.

“He’s already here and already figured it out what it was, he’s off to kill it now I believe.”

His words made her eyes narrow as she stared him down. Sensing her fierce gaze, Zandah turned on his heels to look down at her from his position on the stool. “Well? What are you still doing here? Don’t you have hymns to chant or something.”

Rolling her eyes she turned on her heel to exit the library. Not being able to help herself she flicked her fingers to the side as she moved towards the door. She smirked as the sound of the stool sweeping underneath Zandah’s feet followed by his shriek as he fell to the ground.

“I’ll get you for that witch!” He shrieked before the books off the bookshelf fell all around him with a satisfying thud.

“Sure you will.” She muttered under her breath, a satisfied grin etched on her face as she made her way outside and into the village square.

Once outside she began to make her way outside the square, towards her small cottage on the outskirts of the village. As she continued on the winding dirt path, she felt a sudden urge to come to a halt.

The forest grew deathly silent around her once she came to a stand still. Turning her head, her eyes fell on the abandoned baker’s house a few hundred metres or so from her. The baker and his family had been the first of many victims.

She didn't know what it was, but there was something inside her almost tugging her towards the small house. In all her decades of living, she’d never felt a pulling sensation this strong before. She may have abandoned the Brotherhood, but she still knew better to ignore a sign like that.

Giving her surroundings one last glance, she stepped off the path and began her way towards the house. As she grew closer she noticed a beautiful chestnut horse tied to a tree. A mare, she noted as she grew within a few feet of her.

“Hi girl.” She murmured, placing a gentle hand to the mare’s forehead. “Who’s left you out here all alone, hmm?” She continued, to which the horse whinnied gently and pushed her head against *yn*’s chest.

*yn* gave the mare one last pat before turning her attention back to the house. Inhaling sharply, she twisted the tarnished knob and opened the wooden door to step inside. From the outside it looked completely normal, but once you entered it was something out of a nightmare. Dried blood still painted the walls, floors and ceilings. The furniture was left abandoned and in complete disarray, adding to the evidence of the horror that had occurred inside the walls.

The vision of the family of five all piled in a heap in the living room with their entrails wrapped around their throats and their hands and feet completely severed, still burned freshly in her memory.

She was ready to hurriedly move past the living room, but the sound of a low moan made her freeze. She waited for a few moments in sickly silence to make sure she wasn’t hearing things when the same moan entered her ears.

Someone was here.

She edged towards the living room, curling her left hand into a fist in preparation to cast a spell, before peaking her head around the wall. The first sight that greeted her was a creature she had never seen before. It looked like a cross between a lion, a spider and an octopus. It was completely hideous and terrifying. A Svin, she realised.

It was also very much dead.

The next thing that caught her attention was a bundle of white hair peaking out beneath a layer of blood and guts. Another low moan.

She hurriedly stepped over the creature and kneeled down to reach the bundle of white hair, which upon closer inspection, she realised belonged to the very famous White Wolf - Geralt of Rivia.

He was so caked in blood, she wasn’t sure what belonged to him and what belonged to the monster. What she did know was that he was injured and injured badly.

“Fuck.”

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

The last thing Geralt remembered was lying on a hard wooden floor, the Svin he had just killed beside him, with a huge Svin sized claw mark embedded deeply into his chest.

The first thing he sensed as he came too was that he was no longer lying on a wooden floor, instead he was lying on a comfortable mattress. He groaned as pain seared through his chest. His eyes opened but his vision was so blurry that he could barely make out his surroundings. He instinctively moved to touch his wound but was stopped by a grip on his arm.

“It’s ok, just breathe.” He heard a gentle voice say. “You need rest.”

He blinked a couple of times as a figure appeared above him. He tried to speak but all that came out was a grunt of pain. “Don’t try to talk, everything’s going to be ok.” The voice reassured him. He breathed out deeply as he felt a wet cloth press against his chest and gently clean the area.

“It’s going to be ok.” The voice repeated as a soft hand reached up to gently caress his cheek. “I’m going to look after you.” Was the last thing he heard before he slipped back into unconsciousness.

*yn* smiled softly as she watched the White Wolf slip back into a peaceful slumber. She leant up and gently tucked a piece matted hair behind his ear. She turned on her heel and grabbed her mortar and pestle to begin grinding up some more herbs for his injury.

A loud knock at the door made her jump slightly. Hurriedly she wiped her hands on her dress before making her way to the front door. She opened the door slightly and peaked through the gap to see a man with a mop of brown hair on his head anxiously pacing outside.

He looked harmless enough.

“Can I help you?” She asked him as she opened the door further. The man’s jaw dropped when his eyes fell on her. He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, a nervous grin spreading across his lips.

“Oh yes hello! I’m looking for the Mage, she lives here apparently.”

“Yes, that’s me, I’m *yn*.” She smiled, sticking out her hand politely. “Oh wow, when they described you I was expecting someone... um...”

“Older?” *yn* suggested.

“I was going to say wrinkly and fat but sure, older works.” The man stated bluntly, causing *yn* to raise a brow.

“Uh - sorry what I meant was - I’m Jaskier, song writer extraordinaire.” He introduced himself, grabbing her hand flamboyantly before pressing his lips to her skin.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine, he’s about yay high, annoyingly muscly and looks like he wants to kill everything in sight.” Jaskier continued, pointing his hand well above his head to indicate his height.

“Wouldn’t be Geralt of Rivia by any chance?” *yn* asked.

“Yes! Yes! That’s the one, you see I’m sort of his best friend and I think he must be terribly worried without me.” Jaskier explained, causing a small chuckle to slip past her lips.

“He’s inside, he’s sleeping though. He needs time to rest so the potion can take full effect and heal him.” *yn* explained, cocking her head inside as she stepped aside to allow Jaskier in.

“Oh thank god, Geralt.” He gasped as he wondered in to see Geralt asleep on her bed. “This is what happens when he doesn’t let me come, he’s just way to over protective, he let me sleep in so I wouldn’t get injured.” Jaskier scolded, crossing his arms as he sent the blissfully unaware Witcher a glare.

“I’m sure that’s it.” *yn* nodded, turning her back so Jaskier wouldn’t see the amused smile on her features. She had a feeling Jaskier was more of a hindrance than a help to the Witcher.

“He’s going to be ok, right?” Jaskier asked as he watched her grind up some herbs.

“Yes. The cut was not too deep, this will clear out any toxins left in his bloodstream.” *yn* explained as she rubbed the ground up mixture into the wound, muttering a cantation under her breath as she did so.

“It’s weird seeing him so - un broody.” Jaskier commented which caused her to let out a laugh. “I’m serious, even when he’s sleeping he usually looks completely pissed off.”

“You spend a lot of the time watching him sleep then?” *yn* smirked, looking over her shoulder to glance at the bard.

“Ok well-” He stuttered as a small blush crept up on his cheeks. “I am very much into woman but come on you have to admit it’s hard to not to stare.” Jaskier defended himself.

*yn* laughed and glanced back down at Geralt, taking in his facial features, the bard did have a point - he looked like a damn God.

“You have a point.” She agreed.

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

This time when Geralt came too, his vision was almost completely clear. He instinctively shot up, the pain in his chest dull compared to the burning sensation he had remembered.

“Oh Geralt, thank heavens you’re alright.” The voice was not the sweet one he remembered, instead it was a very familiar one.

“Jaskier?” He grunted as he moved to touch his chest. “Ah-ah-ah I wouldn’t do that. You’re not supposed to touch that... or be moving.” Jaskier spoke, hastily making his way into Geralt’s line of vision.

Had Geralt dreamt up that sweet voice and gentle touch?

He glanced around the small room, noting the numerous spell books and scrolls scattered around as he moved to heave himself off the bed. “You’re not supposed to get u- and you’re up anyway.” Jaskier sighed.

“How did I get here?” Geralt asked. “Well-” Geralt turned to Jaskier once he detected the mischievous tone, to see an equally mischievous smirk on his lips.

“A very lovely Mage came to your rescue.” Jaskier grinned. Geralt grunted in response. “Her name’s *yn*.”

"Where is she?”

“See for yourself.” Jaskier spoke, still grinning mischievously as he pointed to the small window. Geralt followed Jaskier over to the window and peered out, squinting as the blinding sunlight hit him square in the eyes.

He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted. Once they did, he felt his heart warm at the sight before him. In the small pasture that was next to the house, stood Roach and the Mage that Jaskier called *yn*.

She was patting Roach and saying something to her. He watched as *yn* took a few steps away from Roach before she turned on her heel and jogged away. Sure enough Roach followed after her, nudging her in the back before galloping off to the other end of the field.

“They’ve been playing tag for the last hour.” Jaskier mused, “figured I could work it into a song somehow, could add a bit of femininity to your brutish ballads.”

But Geralt was no longer listening. Instead he found himself mesmerised by the woman before him. Usually he detested the thought of any other living being touching Roach, but the sight of this made him want to smile.

He let out an involuntary groan as a sudden wave of pain shot through his chest. “Geralt? Geralt are you alright?” Jaskier asked, hurrying over to support Geralt as he doubled over.

“I’m fine.” He hissed, wincing as another wave of burning pain rippled through him. “Hang on, I’ll go get *yn*.” Jaskier announced, making sure Geralt was back on the bed before he sprinted outside.

He could hear Jaskier’s voice in the distance, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. “What happened?”

The sweet voice.

“I’m not sure, he was fine and standing and then he just doubled over.”

Geralt looked up and instantly locked eyes with *yn*. Her face was flushed and her dress covered in dried blood, no doubt his, but that did not make her any less beautiful.

Goddess-like, Geralt decided.

*yn* felt her stomach do backflips as her eyes locked with Geralt’s. Seeing him lying down shirtless was one thing, but sitting up? *yn* had been on this earth for many many years, but fuck - was it possible for someone to be that attractive?

“Fuck.” The Witcher suddenly hissed as a stabbing sensation filled his chest. All thoughts, sexual and otherwise flew from her mind, now her focus was back on his pain.

“Well firstly, he was not supposed to be standing.” *yn* scolded as she put herself back in Mage mode and hurried over to her medicine table. “Lie down.” She instructed as she grabbed the herbs.

“There must be some of the Svin’s poison still left in your blood system.” She explained as she pushed the herbs forcefully into the open wound and muttered a stronger cantation under her breath.

“Fucking hell.” Geralt cursed as the herbs sizzled under her spell, melting into his flesh.

“Sorry.” She apologised, before moving to his face. Geralt felt his heart beat faster as she brought her face right down close to his, so close that if he moved upwards, their lips would meet.

“No green veins in your eyes. You’re definitely clear now.” She decided as her she peered intently into his amber ones.

“Thank you.” The sound of his deep voice made her break out of her Mage mode and made her realise just how close the pair were.

‘For godsake - you’re a powerful witch with decades of sexual experience - pull yourself together and channel your inner sexual deviant!’ She internally scolded herself.

“Anytime, Geralt of Rivia.” She smirked as she pulled away from him. “Nice to meet you, by the way.” She continued as she moved to place the empty bowl back on the table.

“Nice to meet you too, *yn* of....?” Geralt queried as he sat back up on the bed, surprised to realise that the intense pain he had felt only moments ago was now completely gone.

“Nowhere, I don’t remember where I was born, I just remember all the places I travelled to.” *yn* explained as she floated over to the other side of the room to grab clean bandages.

“Before Aretuza?” Jaskier piped up causing *yn* to glance over at him in surprise. “Yes before Aretuza.” She nodded.

“*yn* of nowhere... now that’s a powerful song - you don’t mind if I use that do you?” Jaskier asked her eagerly.

“No, go ahead.” *yn* answered, stifling a laugh as her and Geralt exchanged looks.

“So, you’re in the brotherhood?” Geralt asked her as he watched her measure the bandages.

“I was - I left that life a long time ago, I was sick of advising King’s who didn’t want to be advised.”

“And now?” He queried as she began to delicately wrap his wound.

“Now I do this. I travel from village to village, finding places that cannot afford a Mage and offer my services for free.”

“That does not bore you?” He asked, immediately regretting the words as they slipped past his lips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No it’s ok.” She laughed quietly. “It does seem boring, but I’ve had three lifetimes full of excitement and adventure. I’ve been here for a few years now, the Mayor and all his subjects are very kind to me, well except his advisor.” She explained.

“I’ve had my fill, I’m happy to just help people now. I’m sure that must sound quite pathetic to someone who hunts monsters for a living.” She sighed.

“It’s not pathetic, trust me.” Geralt comforted, placing a large hand on her shoulder. His actions made her cease her movements, glancing up from his wound to meet his eyes. She felt a blush creeping up on her cheeks as his fingers brushed against her skin.

“I um-” She stuttered, breaking their contact as she pulled out of his hold. “You should be fine to travel now.” She murmured, glancing over at Jaskier sheepishly to see him staring wide eyed at the pair.

“But... you’re more than welcome to stay the night if you need.”

“Oh yes I think Geralt would absolutely love to-”

“No, we’ll be on our way.” Geralt cut Jaskier off, rising to his feet very suddenly, his face suddenly turning expressionless.

“But Geralt-”

“Shut up Jaskier.” He hissed, gripping the bard by the shoulders and firmly guiding him to the front door.

“Wait!” *yn* called, just as the two had opened the door. “Take this with you.” She said as she grabbed a small poultice off the table.

“Apply it to the wound twice a day for a week, to ensure it heals nicely.” She explained, placing it into Geralt’s hand. Studying his vacant expression for a few moments, she leant up and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Safe travels Geralt of Rivia, and you too Jaskier.” She smiled, caressing Jaskier’s face briefly before dropping her hand to her side.

“Thank you, *yn* of nowhere.” Geralt spoke, and *yn* swore she saw a ghost of a smile on his lips before he disappeared through the door.

And just like a tornado, the pair had come and gone.

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

“Ok I think I’ve finally perfected *yn* of nowhere version three hundred and one, do you want to hear it?”

“For the last time, I don’t want to fucking hear it.” Geralt snarled, warming his hands over the small fire.

“Oh for fucks sake, you know what Geralt? I’ve just about had it with you.” Jaskier huffed, during his guitar to the side and rising to his feet. “Why don’t you just admit the reason you’ve been a grumpy sack of shit for the past two days is because you got scared that you felt something real with *yn* and ran away like a little wolf pup instead of giving it a go.” He continued as he moved to grab a loaf of bread from his bag.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Geralt snapped back.

“Ok let’s not play that game Geralt. I saw that connection with my own two damn eyes. It’s like something out of one of my most popular love songs, like destiny.”

“Fuck don’t you start with that whole destiny bullshit.” Geralt muttered.

“No Geralt, don’t you start with that whole ‘destiny is bullshit’ thing, I know you believe it.”

Jaskier was right. Geralt did believe in destiny, whether he wanted to believe it or not. And there was something inside him, desperately trying to claw it’s way out that was trying to get him to go back. It was like he was being tugged back in the direction of the small village.

Back to her.

But Jaskier was right about more than that. It was true, the overwhelming feeling of adoration and fascination he had felt for *yn* had scared him. And the White Wolf was supposed to be scared of nothing.

“Geralt... hello? Can you hear me?” Jaskier’s voice cut through his worries like a knife through butter.

“It would never work.” Geralt heard himself admit.

“and why not?” Jaskier exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“You heard what she said, she’s had her fill of adventure and chaos, and that’s all my life is.”

“Pfft.” Jaskier scoffed as he made his way back to sit beside him. “I saw the way she looked at you, if you’re trying to tell me that if you went back their right now and asked her to come with you that she would say no, then you’re out of your - ow!”

Geralt looked away from the fire to see that in Jaskier’s passionate flailing of his arms, he’d managed to cut the palm of his left hand.

“Well that’s just great, the first scar I get happens to be from a bloody kitchen knife, can you pass the - why are you looking at me like that?” Jaskier cut himself once he noticed Geralt staring intently at his wound.

“I have an idea.” Geralt announced, a bemused smirk appearing on his lips.

“Oh no.”

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

“Toss a coin to your Witcher, oh valley of plenty oh valley of plenty.” *yn* hummed to herself as she cleaned her medical tools. Ever since Jaskier and Geralt had left a couple of days ago, the song had been playing on repeat in her head.

Sure, it was a catchy song but all it did was remind her of Geralt and she was thinking of him enough as it was.

Surely she was not the only one out of the two that felt the connection? It was far too intense to be one sided. Right?

A knock at the door made her snap out of her deep thoughts. “Coming!” She called as she made her way to the front door.

“Geralt.” The name slipped out automatically as she stared wide eyed at the mountain of a man in front of her.

“Sorry to intrude, I think Jaskier needs your help and you were the closest village.” It was only when Geralt mentioned him that *yn* realised he was holding an unconscious Jaskier by the collar.

“You’re not intruding, bring him and put him on the bed.” *yn* instructed, stepping aside so he could haul Jaskier inside.

“What happened?” She asked him as she hurried over to Jaskier’s side.

“I’m not sure.” She heard him answer as she began to examine Jaskier.

“How did he get this cut on his hand?” She asked him, noticing the small bloodied slit on his palm. *yn* glanced over her shoulder when her answer was met by silence to see Geralt dancing on the balls of his feet nervously.

“Geralt?”

“.... himself.” He admitted quietly.

“Himself?” She repeated, raising a brow once she was met with a nod. “And he’s unconscious because...?”

A shrug.

“Alright, well I can dress his cut.” She answered, turning from him to hide her grin. Had Geralt really travelled all this way just so she could look at a small cut?

The room fell into silence as she carefully wrapped Jaskier’s limp hand. “While you’re here I should look at your wound.” She stated, turning to Geralt who had now taken a seat on the table.

He nodded and pulled his shirt over his head and *yn* was pleased to see that her dressings were still in place. She felt her heart rate increase as Geralt opened his legs for her to stand in-between them. She could practically feel the heat radiating from his body as she slotted in between his thighs. The pair fell back into silence as she began to work methodically on unwrapping the bandages.

“Can I ask you something?” Geralt spoke up once she had begun to clean the wound with a wet cloth.

“Of course.” She murmured.

“How did you find me? Back at that baker’s house?” His words made her cease her movements briefly, glancing up at him to meet his eyes before looking back down at his wound. “I-I don’t know, I just felt like I had to go there. Like something was...”

“Pulling you?” He suggested.

“Yes, pulling me.” She agreed quietly, avoiding his intense gaze as she manoeuvred around him to grab some fresh bandages. Her fingers brushed against his tanned skin and she felt his muscles shiver under her touch. She felt a sudden surge of confidence ripple through her and before she could question it, she opened her mouth to speak.

“Can I ask you a question, Geralt of Rivia?” She spoke, shooting him a small smile.

“Of course.”

“Did you really come back here just for me to look after Jaskier?” *yn* asked as she finished tying the cloth around his chest.

“I think you know the answer.” His deep voice made her eyes flicker up to his amber ones, that seemed to be glowing even brighter than usual.

“It would be nice to hear you say it though.” She murmured, taking a step closer to him so their lips were only a few centimetres apart. The energy in the room was so palpable, *yn* felt that her knees might buckle underneath her.

“I came back for you.”

The second the words were uttered, *yn* leant forward and captured his lips in a kiss. The pair moulded together, as if they were always meant to be one entity, Geralt wrapping his arms around her frame to pull him closer to her. As the pair pulled away, *yn* swore she could feel her entire essence literally buzzing.

A small smile appeared on his lips as he placed one hand on her lower back and another up to cradle her face. “Do you believe in destiny?” He asked quietly.

“I do.” She replied, swallowing nervously as he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. “And I think I was meant to find you lying half dead and covered in Svin guts.” Her words made a deep chuckle emit from the back of Geralt’s throat.

“I know you said you were done with a life of adventure, but I think I could really do with a Mage, and a better travelling companion.” He added, cocking his head to a still passed out Jaskier causing her to giggle.

She smiled and hastily pressed another kiss to his lips, “I’m in.”

A loud groan caused both her and Geralt to swivel around to see Jaskier coming too, gripping his head as he sat up in the bed.

“Fucking hell, please tell me you two are together and Geralt didn’t knock me out for no reason.”

“Don’t worry Jaskier, it was for a good reason, a very good one.”

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

As always, positive feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!

#geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #reader x geralt #the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher oneshot #the witcher imagines #the witcher x reader #reader x the witcher #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia imagine

445 notes · View notes

belladxne · 3 years

Text

i will see you where the shadow ends | chapter 7

[see notes for ao3 and ff links]

part of the put your faith in the light that you cannot see series AU: Breath of the Wild pairing: KiriBaku word count: 6,410

chapter 7: there's a shadow where I used to shine, that tries to hide behind the smoke

Eijiro wishes he could say he leaves soon after that. He knows how long it takes to complete shrines, generally, and he can’t really afford to linger just because he’s comforted by the presence of other people. He knows he has to get a move on.

But, yeah, that’s not what happens.

It takes a few minutes to stop chatting with Hirooki, and then, of course, upwards of an hour to finish the trial hidden in Ha Dahamar Shrine. And after that, he knows he should set off, but he figures the smart thing is to catch a wild horse and register it at the stable, first. After all, travel will be a lot faster with a horse, so this will save him time in the long run.

The problem he wasn’t foreseeing is that he doesn’t know how to catch a wild horse, and it turns out a few tips from the guy who runs the stable did not make him an expert. The horses are all skittish—way more skittish than he accounted for. That probably was true for wild horses at the best of times—but it’s probably way worse, now, with the countryside they roam being littered with way more monsters and dangers than it ever used to be.

Or maybe he’s just making excuses, because it takes him over an hour to catch a single horse. They stick together in small groups, presumably for safety, and several times he gets close to one, only for another to spook and send them all running. Most of the time, he doesn’t even get that close, though. Twice he manages to get on a horse, only for the animal to then buck him right back off.

It also doesn’t help that he lets himself get distracted and sidetracked often, catching just about any bug or small creature he spots, now that he knows they’re useful. Several times he’ll forget all about the horses he’s trying to sneak up on, just to grab a lizard or cricket that darts across his path. It’s not long before one of the compartments of his bag ends up loaded with dragonflies and frogs and tons of other potential elixir ingredients.

He’s battered and disheveled from being bucked off of horses’ backs by the time he finally pinpoints one, just far enough from the rest of its small herd to be easy to approach. And she actually seems to be strong, healthy, and built for speed—he’s not sure how he knows, but he must have spent enough time around horses before, that he can tell from watching for a minute or so if a horse would be reliable for travel or battle. This one has a deep, reddish-brown coat and a white mane, and he can tell already that she’s probably one of the most reliable wild horses he’s laid eyes on today.

This one, finally, he manages to vault himself onto the back of and hold on tight, clinging and desperately trying to soothe the horse until she finally calms enough to accept his presence.

It’s somewhere around half past four in the afternoon when he finally rides up to the stable, exhausted and harried but triumphant as he announces his horse’s name as Riot and waits for them to outfit her with a saddle and reins once they’ve registered her.

He’d like a few more minutes to take a breather after the effort that went into the near two hours he spent chasing horses and bugs alike, but he’s wasted enough time. He stays still long enough to feed Riot a couple of apples from his bag in attempt to win her over, and then he’s swinging up into the saddle and urging her north, down the road to Kakariko Village.

Within five minutes of riding, Eijiro can tell he’s made a good choice—or, got lucky with which horse he was able to get alone, more like. Either way, he picks up quickly on the fact that Riot has remarkable endurance, and that she’s faster than most of the horses he’d seen so far, too. If he can get her to warm all the way up to him, the extra time spent falling on his ass trying to catch a horse might turn out to have been a more than worthwhile investment.

The first leg of the ride goes fantastic—better than fantastic. Riot travels so much faster than Eijiro could, of course, and the road to Kakariko is completely clear of monsters. And from Riot’s saddle, Eijiro can’t really give into the temptation to snatch up any mushroom or herb he sees growing along the side of the road. Not as easily, at least.

He closes half the distance left to Kakariko in what feels like no time, flying past the scenery at a gratifying pace with hardly any stops. The sun has dipped below the horizon, though the sky still clings to as much of the daylight as it can, before something finally grinds his progress to a halt.

There’s… well, he doesn’t know what to call it, up ahead. It looks like a round little tree on legs. It looks like a huge, fat Korok. The creature—he’s guessing it must be a Korok, albeit a particularly massive one, bigger than fifteen or twenty normal Koroks all put together—has the same light wooden skin, and a massive leaf around its nose that almost resembles a beard as well as some impressive eyebrows that look like carved wood protruding from its face. He also carries a satchel that, Eijiro realizes as he gets closer, is of the same material and make as the enchanted bag that had once been Izuku’s.

Eijiro remembers what the first Korok had said—that the seeds were for Hestu, who Eijiro wouldn’t be able to miss. You’ll know him when you see him, were the spirit’s exact words. This… was a pretty distinctive Korok. Eijiro pulls the reins to get Riot to stop before the Korok, who stands just to the side of the road, looking… well, he thinks he looks sad, maybe?

It’s hard to read the expressions and body language of the forest spirits, since their faces are just leaves that don’t really shift much from expression to expression, but he does look a little slumped over and unsure, Eijiro thinks, as he slides out of Riot’s saddle to talk to the large spirit. He doesn’t even get a word out before the Korok is straightening up in surprise.

“Shalaka?!” the thing says, incomprehensibly. Eijiro blinks, but before he can form a response, the Korok is continuing in his high-pitched voice, “You! You can see me?!”

“Uh… well, yeah,” Eijiro responds, scratching at the back of his neck. When he opens his mouth to ask if this guy is, in fact, Hestu, the Korok throws his stubby wooden arms up in delight and interrupts Eijiro with a bizarre little song made up of similarly incomprehensible syllables.

“It’s been a hundred years since anyone has been able to see me!” the Korok announces, upon completion of his odd little song. “I’m Hestu, and I need your help!”

Well—that solves that mystery. Eijiro doesn’t even blink at the way the Korok just assumes, immediately, that he’s able and willing to help. Mostly because he is both of those things.

“Those monsters over there stole my beloved maracas!” Hestu says, slumping over sadly with a gesture much farther up the road, apparently not particularly invested in giving Eijiro time to get a word in. There are no monsters in sight where he’d gestured, but Eijiro’s sure he’ll run into them when he gets that far. “I think they’re still there on the other side of those rocks up the hill.”

Eijiro nods firmly, still trying to make out where ‘those rocks’ are, if not where the monsters themselves are, when Hestu says something that instantly catches Eijiro’s interest.

“I can’t use my powers without them. Shoko...” Powers? He’s got powers? Maraca powers? Eijiro wants to see what that looks like. “So please! Please get my maracas back from them.”

“Of course,” Eijiro says, because it’s not like he hasn’t already fought monsters nearly every step of this trip. And with how much time he saved riding Riot instead of walking, he can afford the delay and still make it to Kakariko at a reasonable time. Not that he would have been able to leave this dude hanging without feeling unbearably guilty and turning back to help, anyways.

“Sha-shaka!” Hestu sing-songs, probably as thanks? Eijiro has just resigned himself to never having any idea what’s happening when he’s talking to Koroks.

Swinging himself back up into Riot’s saddle, Eijiro coaxes her forward at a trot. For the most part, the right of the path is open to the air, the ground falling away at a steep incline, but after about five minutes of riding, the path starts to close up ahead.

He knew it would eventually—he remembers, somehow, that Kakariko is nestled in the mountains, the path a fairly level road that had been worn through the steep hills and mountains of the area. Even if he doesn’t ever remember coming to Kakariko before, he’s got enough knowledge of the landscape that he thinks he probably must have. So it’s not a surprise when the road curves into the hills, natural walls forming on either side of the path.

And there—just as the hill forms its steep cliff as a wall on the right side of the path, there’s an opening. It seems open on the other side, so it’s not quite a cave, though it’s got a roof in the form of a boulder that must have lodged itself at the top of the opening at some point. But Eijiro guesses the rocky slopes are what Hestu meant when he said the other side of those rocks.

Climbing off of Riot, Eijiro moves around in front of the mare, running a hand soothingly down her face and receiving a gentle headbutt to the chest in response.

“Stay here a few moments, okay?” he requests, though he knows she’s not likely to understand him. Still, he pulls an apple out of his bag as a bribe and lets her munch on it, hoping it will at least endear him to her enough to keep her here waiting for him, in hopes of getting more apples out of him.

With that, he turns to the natural archway, draws his sword, and gets ready to go to work.

The worst part about this is that it should have been so easy.

It was only three bokoblins—sure, their fur had turned blue with maturity, so they were generally stronger and more intelligent than the red ones he’s encountered more often so far, but he fought a few already just on the way here! Several monster camps he’s fought had five or six bokoblins, even if most of them were still young and red-furred.

He’s already fought enemies stronger than this, this should not have been a problem for him.

And for a second, he really believed it wouldn’t be. He dispatched the first of the three before the group even realized he was on them, and turned to the others without much concern. Sure, it was two on one, and there wasn’t much room to maneuver in this pocket between the hills and the cliffside down, but he’d thought he’d had it.

That’s when it happens—the bokoblin wielding a spear lunges for him. It drives its spear downwards over its head and Eijiro tries to twist out of the way, but he just—he just screws up. His foot gets caught in a dip in the ground, his ankle twisting painfully as he dodges away, and in the moment of indignation and incredulity that he’d made such a rookie slip-up, the other bokoblin strikes.

Eijiro sees the boko bat swinging towards his face a split-second too late, and his ankle buckles when he tries to stagger back. He doesn’t get out of the way fast enough, and the bat comes slamming into his temple at almost full force. For a hot second, Eijiro sees stars, falling onto his ass hard. Dazed, he tries to blink the starbursts of color out of his vision, wincing as the bokoblin that just landed a hit roars at him.

He barely rolls out of the way of the next strike, and for a brief second the quick motion makes him so dizzy he thinks he’ll fall over, but it’s not exactly an option. Fuck, he has to end this now.

Eijiro swings the flat of his blade at the legs of the nearest bokoblin. With a yelp, the thing’s legs are swept out from under it, and it drops. Eijiro doesn’t wait for an invitation as he lunges forward, flipping the blade down to impale the creature.

Its last living companion is already brandishing its spear, so Eijiro doesn’t bother to dislodge the sword. He vaults over the body and throws himself into a clumsily-executed roll on the other side to buy some distance—and, fuck, his head hates that, oh, Gods, he might hurl. He unslings his bow from his back as he comes up from the roll, arrow drawn, nocked, and loosed almost immediately.

His arrow hits right between the last bokoblin’s eyes, and it falls atop the last one with little ceremony.

Eijiro drops more gently—his head is screaming at him, and it’s been jostled enough, so he lets himself flop down onto the grass beside the monsters’ campfire slowly. Lifting a hand to his head, he whines. Not only is a nasty bump already forming, but there’s a gash there as well, and Eijiro has a sick feeling in his gut.

The bokoblins are already starting to disappear, leaving him the only one sprawled out in his misery—whatever they are, this is the main thing that’s always set them apart from the other creatures that roam Hyrule.

They’re not made of anything substantial, apparently, possibly or even probably created entirely from the same Malice that had distorted All for One into the Calamity it is today. And since they aren’t natural beings, having only Malice holding them together, as soon as they’re slain they just—turn into an awful sludgy smoke and dissipate like they were never there. Apart from some stronger and older ones, who have parts that stubbornly cling to existence. Fangs, horns, maybe a heart from time to time, which, ew.

He knows all this, without remembering having learned it, just like he knows how to fight. Or, at least, is supposed to. That was so stupid. It was just three blue bokoblins. How can he not even handle three blue bokoblins?

Frustration swirls around in his chest, and he grits his teeth. He wants to scream. He should be better than this. How can—how can he even hope to help Katsuki and Izuku if he gets his ass kicked this easily? Fuck—they need him, and they’ve been fighting the entire Calamity for a century, and he can’t even—he can’t even hold his own for a few days against weak enemies. Gods, he hopes Katsuki can’t see him right now. With all of his heart, he desperately hopes it.

He squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his hands to them so hard he sees bursts of color behind his eyelids, in attempt to block out the light from the campfire that’s agitating his budding headache.

Gods, he hopes the chest the bokoblins had kept up on a platform at the back of their camp holds the maracas. If they’re not even here, he’s gonna scream.

But quietly. In his head. So he doesn’t make his headache any worse.

Eijiro’s headache is absolutely killing him, and he is, in a word, miserable.

Hestu had been so happy to see his maracas, it honestly made everything worth it. The problem was Hestu had been very vocal about his appreciation. The happy yelling and singing had been bad enough. The maraca-ing, once the two had discovered the seeds Eijiro had been gathering from the Koroks that dotted nearly every inch of Hyrule were actually stolen from inside Hestu’s maracas and would need to be returned, was kind of worse.

Eijiro hadn’t raised a complaint, though. Partially because he wasn’t heartless enough to ruin Hestu’s joyful new mood, and also because he used his maraca powers to make Eijiro’s new bag even bigger. He’s not sure how much more he can stuff in there now, but he thinks he’ll be excited to find out once he’s recovered a little.

For now, he’s tired and miserable as he continues up the road, keeping Riot at a slower pace to keep from bouncing his head around too much. For the first time since leaving the plateau, anxiety gnaws at him more than impatience as he thinks about his destination.

It’s not particularly late—maybe around seven, if he were to guess—and he knows he could make it to Kakariko within the hour. Maybe even within half an hour if he really pushed it, which he doesn’t think he has it in him to do. But the thought fills him with apprehension and—and something almost like shame, he thinks, as he considers it. He swallows, shifting in the saddle uncomfortably.

Inko had said that Aizawa had been an advisor to Katsuki. He’d—he’d been around one hundred years ago, and must have known about the plan for Eijiro to return. He was supposed to have advice for Eijiro, to help him help Katsuki and Izuku, but—

But how can Eijiro ride into a town where they know him, where they’re expecting such important things from him, looking like this? He doesn’t want to limp into town with a shoddily-bandaged gash on his head, looking half-dead on his feet. That’s not—that won’t—he doesn’t want to let them down.

He doesn’t want to hobble into town, wincing every step, and be told—oh, sorry. You’re in no shape to do this. I can’t believe we waited one hundred years for this. Don’t worry, though, we’ll find someone else to handle it.

He needs—he has to help Katsuki. He can’t let someone else keep fighting this battle for him—like Izuku had to, just because he was another chosen of Farore. And he definitely doesn’t want to ride into town and disappoint people who expected him to be the hero they’d waited so long for.

Just the thought of going into the village like this nearly paralyzes him. He just—he just needs a good night’s sleep, maybe; some time for the wounds to heal a little, or at least be somewhat less fresh when he gets there. He knows part of his dragon ancestry left him with the ability to heal faster than most people, at least he might be able to hide the pain in his ankle after a rest, and the swelling on his head might have gone down.

Yeah—yeah, that sounds like a better idea. The part of him that’s been so frustrated with his slow progress at least quiets down, just a little, for once. It’s just… it’s just one night, and if the result is that no one has to know how much weaker he is than he should be, it’s worth it.

He doesn’t know where else might be safe to stop, secluded from the road and tucked away, so Eijiro climbs off of Riot where the monster camp he’d cleared out for Hestu was, coaxing her through the archway to where the camp rests. The campfire the monsters had set is down to embers at this point, but that’ll be easy enough to fix.

Eijiro goes about setting up camp, rekindling the fire, and roasting some low-effort dinner with as much laziness as he can manage. If he can cut a corner, he does. All he cares about is not making his ankle or head worse, getting a full stomach in hopes that’ll give him some extra energy for healing, and knocking the fuck out.

The process is maybe twenty minutes at most, and the soft grass beside the fire is so much more comfortable than the cold stone he’d slept on last night. If not for the headache still pulsing mutedly behind his temple, he might consider this downright blissful.

He feels like there’s something he’s supposed to keep in mind, something important, but he’s too exhausted and frustrated to bother. Drifting off quickly, he figures he’ll remember in the morning if it matters. And then he’s out.

…—up already, asshole! Come on. Gods, you lazy—wake up, fucker!

Eijiro groans, turning his head as if to burrow it into the soft grass it’s pillowed on, like that can muffle Katsuki’s voice harassing him. Exhaustion blankets over him heavily, and the only thing even vaguely resembling a thought in his head is the desire to go back to sleep. His body feels like it’s made of lead and his eyes might as well be welded shut—it’d be so easy to drift off again, if not for the voice still pressing insistently at the edges of his mind.

Ei, come on, we don’t have time for this. Get ready.

An exhausted, pathetic huff escapes Eijiro in his irritation, his whole body tensing like if he curls in on himself enough he can block out any semblance of consciousness and go back to sleep, before falling slack in resignation, his eyes blearily cracking open.

And—oh, fuck.

He’s surrounded by red. Fuck, when he blinks his eyes a little farther open, the whole sky glows with it.

All for One’s getting stronger, asshole—he gets too fucking powerful during the blood moon. Which is right fucking now, by the way, which you’d notice if you would get the hell up.

The fucking blood moon! Shit, Hirooki had even warned him, and he still—he still went to sleep in a monster camp. In a split-second, panic pumps enough adrenaline into his veins that moving suddenly doesn’t seem like such a monumental effort as he scrambles to his feet.

Finally, fuck. For the first time, he notices how panicked Katsuki had sounded, only in its absence as relief colors his tone instead. You’ve only got about a minute. All for One uses the peak of the blood moon to bring its fucking cannon fodder back—be careful, dumbass, your ass is about to be surrounded.

Any lingering anger at having been woken up so rudely—and with so many insults, which, rude—evaporates instantly as it sinks in that Katsuki probably just saved his life. He draws his sturdiest sword and experimentally puts some weight on his bad ankle, which, ow, fuck, still hurts, but it’s better off than it was earlier and he thinks he’ll be able to move on it if he’s careful.

“Thanks,” he says, hoping Katsuki can hear him, as he readies his stance. Before his eyes, cinders of murky black Malice start rising off of the ground, drifting through the air all around. He doesn’t even think he’s ever seen the substance except when monsters first fade into clouds of it and dissipate—but now it hangs heavy all throughout the air, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

Gaze analytical, he watches some of the Malice in the air swirl together in three different places around the campfire, merging into murky clouds that start to take on the shape of the bokoblins he’d handled earlier.

His sword is swinging for the nearest bokoblin almost before it begins forming, and he settles in for a fight.

It’s over fast. Maybe he accounted better for his ankle this time, or maybe he’s finally used to not fighting at full strength, or maybe it’s as simple as this time he was lucky and last time he wasn’t—whatever the case, it’s only a couple minutes before he’s standing triumphant again, this time without any more injuries to show for it.

Heaving slightly, he sheathes his sword and edges away from the monsters that had very nearly ambushed him in his sleep. As far as he knows, the whole monsters rising from the dead thing only happens once, at midnight, and won’t be happening again until the next blood moon—that said, he honestly does not want to take his chances. Even if the heavy presence of Malice clouding the air has finally dissipated.

He doesn’t think he can comfortably sleep next to this fire anymore anyways, without paranoia keeping him awake for hours.

“Hey...” he speaks into the night, still breathless from exertion as his eyes flick vaguely skyward, sort of in the direction of Hyrule Castle, though the hills block his view. “I don’t… uh, I don’t know if you heard me before, but I mean it. Thank you. I—you probably saved my life.”

He waits, eyes searching the righted sky, like the returned navy and the light of the stars can somehow provide him with a view of Katsuki. When no response comes, Eijiro feels his expression grow pinched, and he sighs as he drops his gaze to the grass.

He’s… tired. Frustrated. He’s only gotten four hours of sleep, his ankle still aches, his head still pulses and sends waves of nausea through him if he moves it too quickly, and he just wants to hear Katsuki’s voice again. It’s all he has of him at this point—he can’t even remember a face to put to it. To say he’s in a miserable mood would be an understatement.

Riot still hasn’t settled down where he’d had her tethered near the archway, a distressed whinny snapping him out of his disheartened ruminating, and he approaches her carefully, still unsteady on the injured ankle. The mare rears back on her hind legs, braying—being startled awake by reforming monsters and a sudden fight had clearly been just as upsetting for her, and Eijiro can hardly fault her.

“Hey, hey, sh-sh-sh-sh, it’s okay, girl,” he soothes, hands raised placatingly as he stays out of reach of her hooves. The last thing he needs after surviving those monsters twice is for his own horse to brain him less than an hour from Kakariko Village. Continuing to make soothing noises, he inches closer, digging around in his bag for one of his last apples. “Sorry, Riot, it’s okay now, hey, hey, calm down.”

Even once he’s brandished the apple, waving it before her temptingly, it’s a few moments before he can get her settled enough that it’s safe to get closer. His free hand strokes comfortingly down the line of her nose and over her neck as he feeds her the apple, and it’s another minute of murmured words and gentle strokes before she’s genuinely more calm.

He gets another headbutt to the chest, but this time it feels more scolding than affectionate, which he figures is fair.

With a sigh, Eijiro unties her lead from the tree just on the inside of the natural rock arch, and coaxes her through the opening back to the road. He feels even worse about going to Kakariko now, grumpy in the middle of the night, with his ankle and head still hurt, but even if he won’t go all the way to the Sheikah village he at least wants to get a decent distance away from here. He’s not going to be able to get any more much-needed rest, otherwise.

Pulling himself up and into the saddle, to get weight off his leg, Eijiro urges Riot forward at a slow pace. He only rides two or three minutes, just enough to be out of sight of the archway, and then he finds a curve in the winding, steep walls of the mountain pass to settle himself and Riot into.

It’s not nearly as sheltered, but he’s exhausted, and it’ll do. Curled up as comfortably as he can get, Eijiro pillows his head on the warm doublet Inko had given him and lets himself drift off into a restless sleep for the rest of the night.

The morning’s still fresh by the time Eijiro wakes up, groggy and still wishing for a few more hours of sleep. All told, though, he’d already gotten at least nine hours, even if the break in the middle did him no favors, and he doesn’t want to risk sleeping out in the open for any longer.

His ankle is still stiff, but no longer painful as long as he’s careful about putting his weight on it, and when he gingerly touches at his temple he discovers the bump has gone down significantly, even if the gash there hasn’t quite healed. It’s fine. It’s better than arriving in the haggard state from last night, at least.

He sets off quickly, only stopping once along the way when he comes across a small waterfall feeding into a little pool beside the road. He wades in and washes up somewhat, cleaning up his appearance as best he can in the cold mountain water, pulling his hair back into a ponytail, and then carrying on once Riot’s drunk her fill.

The roads of the pass open into the sheltered valley that houses Kakariko abruptly. If not for the wooden gates that the Sheikah had constructed further along the road, there would have been no warning that the steep, closed walls of the road were about to split off.

Eijiro pulls on Riot’s reins, coaxing her to a stop at the entrance to the village, on the railed pathway that overlooks the entirety of the settlement. Kakariko is a sleepy little village, safely ringed in by the walls of the mountains on all sides, and something about the cluster of houses with their curved thatch roofs brings him no small measure of comfort. The last of his bad mood seeps away, his eyes drinking in this proof that some things have survived the Calamity with eagerness.

There’s an elderly woman resting beside a tree a little ways along the road, who greets Eijiro warmly, pulling herself to her feet with some effort. She apologizes for letting him see her in her current state, explaining that she’s twisted her ankle—”It happens to the best of us,” Eijiro’s quick to tell her, the irony not lost on him—and then he’s sliding off of Riot to offer to let the woman ride his horse back to her house, to keep the weight off her ankle. She’s mid-sentence thanking him when her eyes land on the Sheikah Slate on his hip, and her eyes widen.

When she asks where he got it, Eijiro barely even starts to explain before she’s grabbing Riot’s reins, nodding in apparent understanding and insisting he get to Aizawa’s home immediately. She promises to board his horse for him at the inn, so long as he hurries to the large house below Lantern Falls, across the village, because the Sheikah have been waiting for him for a long time.

As she pulls herself into the saddle, she implores him one more time to hurry to Aizawa, before surprising him with a heartfelt declaration that she’s honored to meet him, though she thinks he’s probably used to hearing that. He’s not, and he doesn’t know what to say—but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything before she urges Riot on down the road, apparently intent on not keeping him any longer.

It’s still fairly early, maybe not much after eight, but the village already maintains a constant, if slow and sparse, press of activity—a couple of kids are strewn along the main road, as well as a girl around his age who’s just settling in to stand outside what looks like a shop, and Eijiro passes by a farmer hard at work in a pumpkin patch.

Everyone he passes eyes him as he makes his way down the road, most with curiosity and some with suspicion, but every once in a while someone’s eyes will drop to the slate at his hip and their eyes will widen, expression shifting quickly to awe. Flustered, Eijiro averts his gaze and quickens his pace.

Aizawa’s home is pretty hard to miss, built high on stilts over an island that sits at the foot of several waterfalls, in the protective curve of one of the steep valley walls. There’s one important-looking set of stairs that leads up to the raised balcony that wraps around the house, with a gate that arches over the foot of the stairway.

The two men standing guard just beside the gate instantly drop into defensive stances when they realize he means to make for the gate, and Eijiro lifts his hands placatingly, letting out a startled, “Um,” but the motion draws their eyes to where his hands had been resting. More specifically, to the Sheikah Slate.

Both men gasp, and then apologies are tumbling from their lips as they straighten their stances, moving aside to usher him through. Eijiro can’t even get more than a few words out to try and reassure them of no harm, no foul, without them insisting he go on ahead and assuring him that they’ve heard all about him from Aizawa.

It’s kind of overwhelming. He doesn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t for people to all recognize him on sight and treat him so—so—important. Being told they’re honored to meet him and have heard legends about him—it’s a lot.

It makes him feel exposed as he makes his way up the stairs, each step feeling too loud—like anyone in the village could look over and see him at any moment, and maybe come to the conclusion that he’s some sort of huge deal.

He keeps his eyes on his feet as he climbs, just in case, because he’s not sure how he’s gonna handle it if he makes eye contact with one more awestruck Sheikah, until he’s finally near the top of the staircase. His eyes lift, and Eijiro blinks at the sight that greets him—there’s a little girl, maybe six or so, sitting on her knees, several pieces of colored chalk scattered in front of her. She’s got long white hair characteristic of the Sheikah, and a very concentrated look on her little face as she draws on a pillar just left of the patterned double doors to the building with a piece of yellow chalk.

The second to last step creaks under Eijiro’s foot, and the girl gasps and startles, whipping to look at him with wide, red eyes. She drops the piece of chalk in the process, and Eijiro leans quickly to catch it when it rolls towards him, so that it doesn’t fall off the edge of the deck.

“Sorry, sorry!” he says, gently, giving her his widest, friendliest smile. She still looks alarmed as she stares at him, so he doesn’t move too close when he climbs the final two steps, crouching just on the edge of arm’s reach to hold out the piece of chalk. “I didn’t mean to scare you! Wasn’t trying to be sneaky.”

Her eyes, still wide, flick from the piece of chalk to his face a few times, and her hands clasp tightly at the hem of her tunic instead of moving to take it back from him. Now he feels really guilty, and his smile turns apologetic as he carefully sets the piece of chalk down halfway between them. Still hoping to put her at ease, he turns his head instead to examine her handiwork.

It’s crude in the usual way little kids’ drawings are, but it’s colorful and cute, and there are five figures all scrawled along the deep brown pillar. Four of them are all holding hands—one he imagines is the little girl herself, since the white-haired figure is so small compared to the others, which include a taller white-haired figure and two more yellow-haired, adult-sized figures, all of them in the approximate colors of Sheikah clothing. The fifth figure is above, with long blue hair and big blue wings.

He lets out a low whistle, curious what the scene represents.

“That’s really cool,” he tells her earnestly, jerking a thumb towards the drawing as he continues to squat just before her, expression open and, hopefully, reassuring. “Do you live here?”

She still doesn’t answer him, biting her lip, but after a moment she gives a small nod and leans forward cautiously to grab the piece of chalk. The motion causes some of her hair to fall into her face, and as it falls forward he notices something peeking through the white locks—a tiny, pale horn.

“Hey, nice horn! Wanna see something cool?” he asks her, beaming, before he hardens scales around the top of his head, red dragonscales curling around his temples and along his hairline as two small, draconic horns peak out of his hairline in similar places to hers. “I can have ‘em, too! Horn buddies! I’m Kirishima Eijiro, it’s nice to meet you.”

Something about the phrase, horn buddies, it sends a pang of—of something through him, something soft and nostalgic, but before he can examine the feeling, the little girl’s eyes are widening once more, her eyes flicking from his horns, to his hair, to the slate on his hip before her mouth falls open into a tiny little o.

Great. Even the little kids know who he is here. That’s gonna take some getting used to.

She keeps staring at him, clutching her piece of chalk tightly in her hand, and Eijiro sighs when he realizes he’s probably not gonna coax any words out of her. With one more smile sent her way, he rocks back on his heels before standing, giving her a little wave. “Well, I’m gonna go inside now, okay?”

She nods again, which he’ll take as the biggest victory he’s gonna get, and then Eijiro turns to the double doors, taking a deep breath before placing his hands on them and pushing them both open at once.

Inside is a large, open hall, with several cushions lined up in rows for many people to sit at, and across the room rests a very haggard-looking man. At first, Eijiro thinks he’s asleep, but when he takes a couple steps into the hall, the man—Aizawa, probably—speaks without even opening his eyes.

“So, you’re finally awake.”

Slowly cracking an eye open, the Sheikah shifts forward in his seat with all the zeal of a man still mostly asleep.

“It’s been a long time, Kirishima Eijiro.”

#kiribaku #bakushima #krbk #bkshm #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijiro #bakugo katsuki #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #fanfiction #fanfic #fic

18 notes · View notes

needtherapy · 3 years

Text

soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 17

A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 Part 2: 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 … HOME

It’s complete on AO3 here.

Notes: Check the tags if you’re concerned about the pairings ;)

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Chapter 17 Earlier

Xichen didn’t see Jin Guangyao again for days, largely because Mingjue barely let him leave his tent, as though trying to reassure Xichen that Jin Guangyao’s presence created no change. It was less reassuring than he intended, because Xichen thought that if his position here with Mingjue was wholly secure, perhaps he wouldn’t need so much reassuring.

Still, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t enjoy Mingjue’s presence seeping into every empty space of his life. Xichen had already learned that it was as earth-shattering to give pleasure as it was to receive it, and he had spent the winter months making a very thorough exploration of Mingjue’s body. There was almost no end to the things Mingjue was willing to let Xichen try, and he was, himself, remarkably inventive.

But he loved the small domesticity of Mingjue in the morning almost as much, of waking next to him, listening to the way his breathing shifted so suddenly from asleep to awake. He always seemed surprised to find Xichen with him, surprised and delighted, stretching his arms and pulling Xichen to him the same way every day.

With the siege temporarily eased, Mingjue was less busy, and most of what he did was familiar to Xichen, the work of running a city rather than commanding an army. There were internal conflicts to settle, supplies to organize, and plans to make for the future. Mingjue did most of it from the comfort of Xichen’s bed, to the great amusement of his generals. As Mingjue’s grasp of Yuyan and Xichen’s skill in Orera improved, Mingjue began asking Xichen’s opinion about everything, from the small issues of disagreements between the horse trainers and romantic entanglements gone awry, to the bigger and less exciting problems of crop rotation, food storage, and waste removal.

It wasn’t all work. In the down times, he fed Xichen rare mountain plums, massaged his back with jasmine cream and sweet-smelling oils, and braided Xichen’s hair in complicated twists and plaits, as doting a lover as Xichen could ever have imagined, and he reveled in being cared for. The only indulgence Xichen truly felt guilty about involved the copper tub.

Prior to winter, the huge tub had been used mostly for washing clothes. When it had been warmer, Xichen had bathed the way the rest of the Ikarahu did: very quickly in the cold river. Once the weather shifted, bathing tents were set up near the river and a team of Ikarahu mages moved and warmed water for baths. It was still cold, but warmer than Xichen’s bathing at home would have been in winter.

It was not, however, Mingjue’s preference. He liked hot baths and decided to convert Xichen to his point of view.

It took dozens of people to move water from the river on the eastern side of the camp to the huge cauldron that sat on a magical fire in the center of camp. No one seemed to mind obliging their commander, although Xichen found it embarrassing that everyone knew when he bathed. Mingjue had just laughed and asked how it was different than bathing in the communal tents, and Xichen didn’t have an answer for that.

He was immediately won over when he sank into water hot enough to sting, and he nearly cried with happiness. Apparently, the sound he made was such that Mingjue stripped and joined him, settling Xichen in front of him and washing his hair with gentle fingers until Xichen could no longer stand the positively provoking way his body was rubbing against Xichen’s under the water. Xichen rolled over to provoke him back, sloshing water over the sides of the tub in a flurry of kisses. Mingjue’s solution was even messier, pulling Xichen out of the tub and tossing him onto the bed, which made Xichen laugh and shiver at the heat in Mingjue’s eyes. Luckily, the copper tub kept the water warm enough to still be enjoyable after their not-so-brief interlude.

It was almost enough to make him forget the flutter of Jin Guangyao’s long eyelashes when he looked at Mingjue.

Despite Mingjue’s efforts to keep him distracted, Xichen had seen and even talked to Guangyao in the common areas of camp, usually with Huaisang hovering nearby. But sometimes Jin Guangyao was sitting alone, always watching the men and women around him but never interacting. Xichen couldn’t help wondering what Jin Guangyao did to occupy his time.

Xichen finally decided to take the initiative. He couldn’t ignore the man forever. The next time he saw Jin Guangyao alone, leaning on a hitching post and watching the munaku training, he stopped.

“Jin-gongzi, I notice you are fond of the munaku. Have you seen the eagles hunting as well?” Xichen asked, and Jin Guangyao’s smile filled his face.

“Zewu-Jun, this one has only seen them in the distance. Oringa’anhu Ikira says they are too dangerous to approach. They are magnificent, even from afar, although this one would be willing to take the risk.”

He seemed to be watching Xichen’s face carefully, as though gauging his reaction, and Xichen wondered what he was looking for. He made an impulsive decision.

“Jin-gongzi, would you allow me to share a pot of Zhao tea with you tomorrow? I do not know if you have had Ikarahu tea yet, but...it is likely not what you are used to, and it is always a pleasure to drink good tea with someone who appreciates it.”

Jin Guangyao blinked in surprise and then chuckled. “Indeed, Zewu-Jun, this one has tried the...tea. It would be an honor to avoid sampling it again.”

Xichen laughed despite himself. At least they had that in common.

He’d taken Jin Guangyao one of the many potted plants Mingjue had gifted him in the autumn along with the tea. When he arrived, Jin Guangyao was writing at a table piled high with books, something else they had in common. Even though Xichen still found Jin Guangyao more cautious than necessary, always correcting his course to avoid any offense, he was easy to talk to, never at a loss for words, and Xichen’s dislike thawed. It was harder to hate someone he didn’t know.

However, the first time Jin Guangyao visited Xichen, more than two weeks after he arrived, was entirely without warning on a bath day. Jin Guangyao had shown himself to be so unflaggingly proper in every other way, his unannounced appearance at the tent entry came as an unwelcome shock. It wasn’t precisely rude, but it set Xichen off balance, and he had to scramble to recover.

“Zewu-Jun, the camp is so large! There must be a thousand tents. This one struggled to find this tent, only to discover how near it is after walking down many other rows,” Jin Guangyao laughed, bright and winsome as he shook snow off his clothes, and it helped erase Xichen’s annoyance at being interrupted.

And then Jin Guangyao saw Mingjue sitting cross-legged on the bed, his still-damp braids loose around his shoulders. It was obvious the moment Guangyao noticed him, because his posture changed slightly, as though a rope was pulled taut inside his body, and he bowed respectfully.

“Ipira’orhew Ikira, this one did not expect such an honor.”

Mingjue was eating a plum, cutting into it with the sharp blade of a small curved dagger, and he nodded at Jin Guangyao with a smile. Xichen took that to mean he didn’t mind Jin Guangyao’s presence, so he invited the man to join them. Xichen had been playing the guqin before Jin Guangyao arrived, and he wasn’t sure if he should continue, but Mingjue grinned beseechingly at him.

“Edas ahora, will you finish the song?”

Xichen sat back down behind the instrument, settling his fingers against the strings. Jin Guangyao chose one of the large cushions in front of Xichen to sit on, but only after darting an assessing look at Mingjue that was altogether too interested.

“Zewu-Jun is a master musician,” Jin Guangyao exclaimed, his dark eyes alight with what looked like genuine admiration when Xichen finished a song about peonies fading in summer.

“Thank you, Jin-gongzi,” Xichen replied, unable to be informal in the face of this man’s unflinching politeness.

“Do you play?” Mingjue asked, laying back against the bed pillows and crossing his ankles.

He popped a piece of plum in his mouth and raised his eyebrows curiously. He looked relaxed and decadent, and, in Xichen’s opinion, gorgeous. Xichen was not surprised by the minute flare of Jin Guangyao’s nostrils and fleeting lift of his eyebrows before he shook his head regretfully.

“Only a little. This one’s skill is minor by comparison. My talents lie elsewhere.” He looked away with a flush, and added, “I write poetry, sometimes.”

Xichen played through two more songs before Mingjue stretched, back arched, arms above his head, catching both Xichen and Jin Guangyao’s full attention. He got up and kissed Xichen’s forehead, touching a thumb to his lips. “Da iko auha, Ahora’ipa.”

To Xichen’s surprise, he ruffled the top of Jin Guangyao’s head on his way out. “I see you, too, Guangyao.”

The look that passed over Jin Guangyao’s face was mostly baffled. But not entirely.

“He does have that effect,” Xichen murmured, trying to repress the flare of irritation.

Jin Guangyao instantly schooled his expression into neutrality. “He is different than this one expected,” he said flatly, and then added with a deferential tip to his head, “Zewu-Jun, may this one ask? What does Ahora’ipa mean?”

It was an interesting question, as Xichen was quite sure Jin Guangyao knew precisely what the endearment meant. But perhaps he was asking for the deeper understanding of the phrase, which Xichen himself was still not fully sure of.

“It means ‘well loved,’ and it seems to be the Ikarahu equivalent to Zewu-Jun. When my family arranged the treaty with the Ikarahu, one of the terms was that I would be given…” Xichen paused, trying to be mindful of the lie he is about to tell. “I would be given ‘equal status.’ I believe it is in acknowledgement of my rank as my father’s heir and commander.”

Although it was true that the contract specified that he was “given in equal status,” Xichen had never understood why he was granted a title, as he knew perfectly well the title was not part of the agreement for Wangji, nor was it part of the rewritten contract Xichen created. Perhaps it had been in an earlier draft of the negotiations, but to ask would make it clear that he deceived the Ikarahu without his family’s knowledge, and he was still not certain how that news would be received. If nothing else, it would disclose how he had lied to them, and he was not eager to face that revelation.

Jin Guangyao nodded thoughtfully, a small crease between his eyes. “It is a title, then. Undoubtedly one that has been earned, given the way it is said around camp.”

Xichen felt his cheeks heating, and he was quick to soften the possible insult that, despite their similar status and station, Jin Guangyao was given no title by the Ikarahu, “Ipira’orhew Ikira is fond of endearments for people he knows well. Ahora’ipa, treasured one, beloved man…it is just his way.”

Jin Guangyao smiled, wider than Xichen had seen before. “You are different than I expected as well,” he said, creasing the dimples into his cheeks.

The shift to informality took Xichen by surprise, as did the implication that Jin Guangyao had expectations of Xichen. How could he have known anything about Xichen other than gossip?

“Your brother sends his regards,” Jin Guangyao said softly, and Xichen jolted upright, standing before he could take a breath.

He dropped to the ground next to Jin Guangyao and gripped his hand. “You have seen Wan...Hanguang-Jun?” he asked, hoping, hoping.

“No, Zewu-Jun,” Jin Guangyao said kindly. “I wrote to him to congratulate him on being made heir of the Lan clan and again when my father...when I was asked to come here.”

He has already been announced as heir. Of course his father would not delay. Wangji must hate it, Xichen thought, and his heart sank when he realized that all he had done was lock his brother in a second prison instead of the first.

No, he could not believe that. At least at home, Wangji would have the chance for happiness with his archer. Here, there would have been no hope. Wangji was fair and just, and he would learn to be a fine leader of the Lan clan.

“Did he...send anything...for me?” The question feels childish, and he knew it was unfair to expect his brother to send a message when Xichen had not, but he was filled with an overwhelming sense of loss for the conversations he would never have with his brother. This was the closest he had been to Wangji in months; he couldn’t help asking.

Did he imagine the hesitation?

“No, Zewu-Jun, but he did say he had not heard from you since you left?” Jin Guangyao said tentatively, the question in his voice inviting Xichen to explain.

Xichen felt guilty for suspecting him of hiding something. It was Xichen who was hiding. He couldn’t even explain it. He couldn’t explain all the letters he wrote and discarded, the words he did not dare share with his brother. Wangji would never believe him. I am sorry I deceived you. I am happy here. And even if I was not, you are safe.

In the end, he had written only once to his father, shortly after his birthday, saying the words he knew would protect his brother and the Cloud Recesses. This is my choice. I am safe. Evidently his father had not chosen to share that with Wangji, which is an anger Xichen can not show Jin Guangyao. For the first time, he wonders if he made a mistake in not trying to convince Wangji that he was happy. He hadn’t wanted to drive a wedge between his father and brother, and he hadn’t been certain if Wangji would believe anything he said. No, he knows Wangji. He would be angry with Xichen for deceiving him, but he was prudent and thoughtful, and he would never endanger the Cloud Recesses. A contract was a contract, no matter how much he might hate it. Understanding of the ramifications and his natural cautiousness would keep Wangji from taking any action.

“I left abruptly and...I was angry,” he said, hoping Jin Guangyao would accept his equivocation. “Anything I said now would be a disappointment to them.”

Jin Guangyao’s peals of laughter sounded forced from him, and he covered his mouth. Xichen raised his eyebrows, puzzled.

“Oh, Zewu-Jun,” he finally managed, “It is only that...I have never considered what it would be like to not disappoint my family.”

It was such a terrible thing to say, Xichen felt it must be the truth. He wanted to reassure Jin Guangyao, but he didn’t know this man or his family, and he didn’t want to appear either cruel or condescending.

“My brother would not be disappointed in me, but I did not want to put him in the position of having to tell my father that I was not unhappy,” he said, exchanging a truth for a truth.

“No, you do not seem to be.”

Jin Guangyao looked around the tent speculatively and Xichen flushed. He was not ashamed. He was not. He had not expected to ever feel anything but loneliness and resentment, and what he had found was, at the very least, friendship and acceptance. Xichen didn’t think there was any nobility in seeking out unhappiness, but it was difficult to admit his contentment to this man who was his countryman.

“Of course, I mean no judgement, Zewu-Jun,” he added, understanding Xichen’s reaction. “But if you would like the company of someone who can, perhaps, appreciate your situation, I would take comfort in having a friend who can appreciate mine.”

The words meant one thing, Xichen thought. But the slow smile and the sidelong look said something quite different indeed.

Notes: Da iko auha, Ahora’ipa. = I will return, Ahora’ipa

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #soaring au #nie mingjue #lan xichen #nielan #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #sangyao #mdzs au #cql au #Kristina writes tiny stories #complete on ao3

5 notes · View notes

starkerforlife6969 · 5 years

Text

Howard buys Tony an Omega part 6 - Starker

Can be read an as independent! Read the rest here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

I received an amazing list of prompts, and this is just one of them, but they were all so good you can probably expect the rest soon, you genius anon: tony is driving when he and peter are in an accident, cue tony's guilt and hovering

TW: car accident, mild references to injury, Tony feeling guilty, v mild angst, a/o dynamics

High off his summer graduation, high after the rush of his degree (top of his class, of course) Tony finally feels a little more settled come that Christmas.

He feels like an adult. He’s been working for his dad’s company since he finished college, but in the new year, he’s going to branch out. Start up his own tech place. Wow investors with the charisma that oozes out of his pores.

To kick off his new adulthood, a Christmas alone with his omega, nestled in their snowy cabin in Vermont, is the perfect bon voyage.

Speaking of, he lets his eyes drift from the icy road to Peter. The omega’s cuddled up on the passenger’s seat, feet tucked under himself, facing Tony (that adoring gaze leaves a warm mark on Tony’s cheek. Or well, it had, for the first few hours. Peter’s asleep now) and snug as a bug in Tony’s college sweatshirt.

Tony can’t wait to see Peter’s face as they drive up. He’s had the place decked out. There are gonna be lights everywhere, a huge Christmas tree- presents already wrapped, christmas crackers and a roast dinner already waiting for them.

He knows Peter loves to cook, but just this once, he’s going to have to make do with being lavished by other people.

Jingle Bell Rock is playing quietly on the radio- but the connection keeps getting cut out. Tony’s not surprised. This far into rural Vermont, the connection’s spotty. There’ll be premium wifi once they’re there, though.

His mother had tried to insist on them having Happy drive them, but Tony had shrugged her off. A road trip with his omega was the best early Christmas present. Stopping along diners for piled-high pancakes, stopping to take photos with state road signs- Peter’s face as gorgeous landscape after gorgeous landscape rolled by the window.

It’s been brilliant.

Tony’s never been this happy.

He doesn’t take his eyes from the road when they near the icier turns. He slows down, he shuts the radio off when the static between giddy up jingle horse gets to be too irritating.

It doesn’t stop it. A deceptive looking patch of snow covers a deep crack in the road, and his grip on the steering wheel isn’t quite strong enough.

There’s a horrible lurch, a bad feeling in his stomach-

And then it all happens so fast.

***

When he wakes up, silent night is crooning without a hitch on the radio, and his face is burning.

He lets out a strangled gasp when everything comes flooding back to him. He jerks and flails. He’s upside down- all the blood is in his head, and he scrabbles for purchase, he can’t see anything out of the windscreen but white snow.

He turns desperately and-

The passenger side is empty.

“Oh god,” he chokes, fumbling for his seatbelt and collapsing into a heap when gravity hauls him down. It takes a few frantic moments to right himself, but when he does, he crawls out of the passenger side door which has been flung open.

It’s freezing. A bone-chilling type of cold, and Tony gets to his feet- feeling dizzy, but, but otherwise okay, except not okay, because-

“Peter!” He yells, white puffs of ice hovering in the air after he speaks, “Peter! Baby, are you-” he turns wildly, and there, he spots his college sweatshirt and a tuft of honey hair.

It’s hard to sprint through the thick snow, but he does the best he can, dropping to his knees beside the fallen figure.

Tears burn as they slide down his face, and he carefully- gently- turns Peter over.

His omega is pale, snowflakes caught on his dark lashes, and there’s a small trickle of blood down the side of his face.

Agony lurches through Tony’s stomach. He wants to vomit, but instead, he cradles his omega as gently as he can, fingers shaking not from the cold, as they feel for Peter’s pulse.

“Sweetheart?” He croaks, voice pathetic, “Peter, baby, are you okay? Please, please, say something, I-”

There’s a pulse under Tony’s fingers. Not a weak, quiet thing, but strong and firm and consistent.

Relief swells within him.

“Peter,” he says again, more loudly, “Peter, Peter, wake up, darling, baby, please-”

There’s a gentle moan, and those amber eyes are revealed to him.

They’re unfocused, a little dizzy, but okay.

“Ton…” Peter slurs, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion, “‘r you…”

“Don’t you dare worry about me.” Tony hisses through tears, reaching over to scoop Peter more firmly into his arms.

Fuck, this is all his fault. What kind of shitty alpha is he? They’re out here now- Peter’s so small, so cold, Tony holds him tight, looking around, thoughts racing.

In the distance, he hears a motor.

“Assistance has arrived.” The cool, automated voice of the car chimes, and Tony collapses, Peter in his arms, and thanks the sky that Elon Musk designed his car.

***

Peter dips a chicken leg in gravy and takes a huge bite of the delicious, crispy skin.

Tony watches him like a hawk, pushing another bowl of stuffing towards him.

His omega shoots him a gorgeous, lopsided smile. “Alpha,” he giggles, even as he takes a spoonful, “you eat!”

Tony doesn’t want to eat. He reaches over the table, cups the back of his boy’s head and kisses his shiny, buttery lips. “I want you to eat.” He murmurs, giving Peter more mashed potatoes.

His omega looks up at him with curious, clever eyes, but doesn’t ask again.

He can sense it, probably, the fear and worry radiating off of Tony in waves. Peter’s always been very good like that.

Tony doesn’t want to eat. He has no appetite. He had no appetite when he’d batted away the hands of the paramedics who’d tried to tend to his non-existent wounds. He sent them to Peter- his Peter, who he hasn’t taken his eyes off since it happened. His perfect Peter sitting perched in the back of an ambulance, wrapped in a silver blanket, torch shining in his eyes.

“You guys are just fine,” the paramedic had told Tony warmly, dropping them both off at the cabin, where a number of attendants were anxiously awaiting them.

Tony had glared at him. “I don’t want Peter to just be fine,” he’d snarled, “I want him to be perfect.”

“He’s going to be okay, son,” the man had promised, “just a little rest and warm food, I promise.”

The cut on Peter’s head, nestled in those curls, has only needed butterfly stitches. A small nick. Head wounds always bleed a lot, Tony knows that, but still.

A long hot bath, some fluffy, non-snow logged clothes, and here they were.

Peter, eating an enormous roast for two, all by himself.

Tony pours him more juice.

It makes him feel better inside. Warmer than the new sweater and sweatpants and fuzzy socks. He feels warmer seeing Peter with chicken between his teeth- starlight in his eyes.

His boy drinks the juice even though Tony doesn’t think he’s thirsty.

He keeps eating until Tony finally stops offering him food.

“Okay, baby,” Tony murmurs, moving round the table to hoist his omega into his arms and carry him over to the couch by the fire. “I’ll get you some dessert. I had them make fondant, your favourite. How’s that? Hm? With some hot chocolate and marshmallows and whipped cream? And chocolate shavings, of course, and- you like sprinkles, don’t you? My little rainbow omega.”

Peter sits where Tony’s perched him amidst the cushions on the couch, and reaches up, clutching his alpha’s large hand in his two smaller ones.

“Alpha,” Peter pouts, a warm blush across his cheeks, “‘m really not hungry. Just want you.”

Tony chews on the inside of his mouth. “Just some fondant then,”

Peter laughs, and pulls him down onto the couch.

Well, he tries, bless him, and Tony flops down onto it anyway, drawing the boy into his arms.

Peter snuggles into him, peppers kisses all across his face. “I’m okay,” Peter whispers, not for the first time this evening. “Really I am.”

“You could’ve been so hurt,” Tony splutters out, turning his head away from Peter’s affections. He doesn’t deserve them.

His omega won’t let him wrangle away that easily. Sits on his lap and keeps kissing him. “You saved me. Good alpha.” The boy chirps, pressing a kiss onto Tony’s left eyebrow.

Tony hugs him tight, breathing him in. “I fuckin’ love you, Pete.” He whispers, “if something happened to you, I’d just-”

“I’m here,” Peter promises, sinking into Tony’s embrace. “I’d never leave you. I promise.”

***

In the morning, Tony wakes up to a full english, and Peter’s expectant eyes.

He has to sit in bed and eat every last bite, not that it’s a hardship, he’s starving and Peter’s the best cook he knows.

He tries to bite down on his hovering, on his urge to smother Peter with affection, to not let him out of arm’s reach, and he tries his best to smile. “What’s on for today then, gorgeous? We can do anything you like. Sledging? Go to the little market place in town?”

Peter moves the breakfast tray and snuggles up beside him in bed. “Just stay here?” He asks, finding his place cuddled on Tony’s chest. “Watch movies.”

A whole day with Peter B Parker in his arms?

“That sounds perfect, baby,” Tony mumbles, his relief palpable, holding him close. Goddamn, Peter can see right through him.

He can feel Peter’s smile through his shirt. “Maybe some fondant later?” Comes the sweet voice, lilt hopeful.

Tony laughs at that, full bodied and surprised, “how about a whole fucking fondant? How about three?”

Peter whoops and Tony tickles him till the sheets are a mess and the Grinch is wrapping Cindy Lou Who up as a present.

Read the rest here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

#starker #peter x tony #howard buys tony an omega #part 6 #omega peter #alpha tony #rich tony #simple omega peter #established relationship #hurt comfort #happy ending #mild angst #christmas feels #fluff #precious peter parker #tony stark has a heart #protective tony stark #car accidents #mild injury

375 notes · View notes

misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years

Note

bro if u have time would u consider big brother gabe hanging out with little cas and pranking the other angels or smth?

"...and he's been so much more annoying than usual," Gabriel waves his hands emphatically as he speaks. "So yeah. We've got to stick it to Michael. You know what I'm saying?" He ends his seventy-three-day rant with that - you see, time was weirder back then - because apparently that's something that's always been said at the end of rants.

Castiel looks up at his brother, from where he was looking up at a tree - wondering about how much prettier it'd be if there were tiny yellow moving-creatures amidst the leaves.

"Yes." He decides to go with, in response to Gabriel's rhetoric, since he hasn't actually been listening to him.

He just tends to agree when Gabriel offers to whisk him off to The Garden, in spite of the sixty-to-eighty day rant he's going to be subjected to, because he likes that everything around is of the color green.

And anyways, he trusts himself to wing it - get it? - if Gabriel asks any questions. Like right now.

Apparently it's the right thing to say again, because Gabriel smiles satisfiedly. "So before I tell you what we'll be doing, do you have any ideas, kiddo?"

The word 'kid' hadn't been thought of yet, so it was astonishing that Gabriel had already nickname-ified it, but then that's something he'd always been good at.

Castiel reasons that his answering-instincts telling him to say 'pink', for some reason, are wrong for like the first time, and hence he shakes his head.

"Well, too bad." Gabriel announces cheerfully in a voice which doesn't hold a single note of feeling bad, in any way at all. "Here's what we're doing, okay? You're going to pretend there's something wrong with your wings. Word's going to spread and Michael's going to come check, and while he's away, I'll just take something from him that seems important."

For a change, Castiel had been listening, so he had a question. "What's important to Michael?"

"I'm working on it." Said the golden-winged Archangel, who wasn't working on it at all.

He too, like the black-feathered fledgling, was going to wing it.

Castiel is dropped off at his to-be garrison - though right now, for they're yet to be 10,000, it functions as a nursery. Nobody seems overly excited that he's back - just as nobody had been concerned that he was gone.

Everyone knew Gabriel had a fondness for monologues and this particular little brother.

"Break a leg." Gabriel whispers to Castiel, who develops a squint at this. All 4367 of his eyes squint together and for a moment, it seems like they're wounds of battles, and not eyeslits.

"Wasn't I supposed to break a wing -"

But Gabriel is already gone.

Castiel shrugs, and keeps on walking for he wants to get as close to the Host as possible, so that he does come flying for sure when he hears Castiel - until he's pounced upon by another fledgling, the same height and number-of-eyes as him.

"Cassie!" Balthazar beams. "How did it go?"

"Gabriel doesn't like Lucifer, Raphael, or Michael." Castiel summarizes, and he thinks he's done a great job of it.

"Cool." Balthazar doesn't really care about it - he's just being polite to his friend. In fact, he hasn't cared much for Gabriel ever since the archangel singled out Castiel for the trips to The Garden. Once when Balthazar had offered his own name, Gabriel had declined, saying that Castiel was more interesting. In short, Balthazar couldn't wait to grow up and get a personality.

He was planning to hate a lot of stuffs.

(But he did like Castiel.)

"Do you know of any little, yellow-y creatures in Father's plan?" Castiel asks his friend, earnestly.

"Joshua might."

"I'm going to go ask him after I've informed Michael my wing hurts." Castiel declares happily, and resumes walking towards the Host.

Balthazar skips after him. "Your wing?"

"It's broken."

"Where?"

Castiel thinks about it. "I think it's the basal phalanx." He pays attention when Anna talks about wings, because he hopes to fly like Gabriel someday. Or better. But probably not, because however hard he may try, he's always going to be smaller.

(Hehe.)

"Why do you want to tell Michael?" Balthazar asks ahead, still not entirely convinced.

Castiel frowns. Why does he, indeed?

"He'll just make a huge deal of it and scold you for being careless." Balthazar says, and he's right. Castiel isn't doing the convincing anymore, as much as he's been getting convinced. "If it hurts, Anna's been developing healing grace." Balthazar adds, because he's nice like that.

"Okay." Castiel agrees. A fledgling of few words.

He was never too passionate about Gabriel's plan either - and he's sure Gabriel won't really care. He never does, and Castiel likes that about him. Plus, they need to go check on the status of small, ochre-yellow creatures.

"Let's get Uriel and we'll go to Joshua!" Balthazar grins, and they set off in the opposite direction from the Host.

(Eventually turns out that such creatures do exist - and are to be called Bees. Castiel's happy enough for the rest of the decade. Maybe 4367 eyes aren't a few too less for him to see that he's supposed to feel guilty for bailing on Gabriel.)

Meanwhile, Gabriel tiptoes dramatically into The Host from the side entrance - the back door is pseudo-eternally blocked by Lucifer, though no one knows what he does there, and only the archangels dare to joke amongst themselves that he's planning to rebel. Gabriel reaches Michael's room and before he can take in the very few items around, his eyes fall on his brother.

"What are you doing here, brother?" Michael asks calmly, because he likes to stay in character.

"I'm - looking for Luci." Gabriel blurts, blanking out.

Michael nods. "Did you check the back entrance?"

"Ahh." Gabriel sings, pretending to be mortified. "Silly me, you know what I'm saying? I'll be on my way, then." Gabriel claps his wings, to fly out of his brother's sight promptly. "See you later."

He reasons something went wrong for his little accomplice, until he picks him up for a six-to-eight decade talk again and Castiel confesses he'd been scared. Only smally mentions the bees.

"...but it's okay. I think I'm backing the right horse, still." Gabriel rolls his eyes, after he's done whining for about forty nine years. Again, horses haven't yet come into being, so idioms involving them haven't either, but Gabriel has his ways.

"I'm sorry." Castiel has the courtesy to mumble.

"You'll make me proud some other time." Gabriel beams at him cheerily, for a second time. "Or like, the very next time - and if you don't, I'm going to have to make Balthazar my favorite. Ever since he's founded the Harp-Hate club, I've just had high hopes for his future."

Castiel nods distractedly. He's picturing the bees.

"I don't have anything against harps, though. I mean, not my favorite - not when there's horns and kazoos around, but like, I can play a mean harp. So obviously, I like them."

Castiel continues to pretend he's been listening, and answers luckily with a, "Of course."

Gabriel goes on, completely satisfied.

Billions of years later, Gabriel's settled in front of the television with a pack of licorice, when a voice booms across Angel Radio.

"Dean Winchester is Saved!"

He smirks, and leans back on the couch, feeling proud of himself. The one thing he'd noticed on Michael's desk when searching for important things, had been a book - with calligraphic text on the cover.

The very first binder.

'The Righteous Man Plans (Vol. 1): How To Get Him To Say Yes.'

And now Castiel - clearly, Gabriel's apprentice, had gone and claimed his soul in Hell. It doesn't get more dramatic than that.

"Nicely done, kiddo."

#castiel #angel castiel #gabriel #archangel gabriel #balthazar #general #michael #lucifer #anna milton #heaven #dean winchester is saved #castiel crack #spn crack #supernatural crack #spn fluff

48 notes · View notes

victorianwestpiano · 4 years

Note

What would it be like if Colette and Holt lived in 2020 (without the virus!) but there was no Dreamland? What jobs might they have? How would they meet? How did Holt lose his arm (war? accident?). Is Colette famous? If so, for what?

Oh so many ideas, but here’s the one I’ll respond this ask ;)

Kentucky, June 2020

Holt Farrier, ex horse showman, was reading the newspaper in the morning like he always does every day. Although today, it was for him to concentrate because of his son Joe, who was playing with his new Xbox he got last Christmas.

It annoyed a bit the cowboy that Joe was so addicted with this technology with high volume and at this early hours. His daughter Milly was not different, when she was younger once in a while sat on her father’s lap and read the paper together alongside with his wife Annie. But now she prefered watching the news on her cellphone, searching science updates in the world. The worst part was the uncountable TikToks they do with their friends, now that summer began, TikTok was their only way to communicate apparently.

But in some way it didn’t surprised Holt at all that his kids were so submerged in their gadgets. Since their mother died of an illness almost an year ago, his children coped with their loss in the best way they could. In some parts, Joe dealt with Annie’s death better than Milly but it was still hurtful for both of them.

However, Holt felt he was suffering the loss the worst, he lost the love of his life while he was away on a excursion on the mountains with his friends Arav, Puck and Rongo. He felt guilty for not being there for her and for his kids. And if it was not enough, some days before Holt received the news of the death of his spouse, he had a terrible accident while he was climbing on the rock mountains. According to his friends, Holt was barely on the top, trying to reach one of the picks, but out of nowhere he slipped and fell many feet in the air. His body crashed somewhere in the rocks and woods. The last thing the cowboy remember is that he waked up in a hospital...without an arm. His left arm was gone and some days after his wife was gone too.

Holt and Annie were horse showman and woman, touring around USA doing tricks with their stallions since that was the thing they loved to do the most. Their connection with horses was one of the things that united them even more. They loved the aesthetic of old-school circuses, but nowdays people are not longer interested on circuses anymore which brought Holt many economic problems.

Now without the love of his life, without an arm and without a job, Holt’s world was no longer the world he adored, so he decided to move with his daughter and son to his childhood town and buy a small house with the few savings he had kept. It wasn’t much but it was something, they had at least a roof upon their heads, electricity, hot water and of course wifi which is very expensive. Not living in tour anymore felt weird; static like a rock and being in just one place, it was practically boring.

Holt’s friends, who came from different parts of the country and the world, tried to convince him and lend him money until he find a job, however, Holt was so proud to accept money from his friends. If he wanted money, he had to earn it and he did not want to be in debt with the people he cared.

Just in very rare ocassions he accepted his friend’s monetary help and became stubborn promising a lot of times he’ll return what he owes, even though his pals said to him is not a big deal, that he’ll pay when he can.

That’s why Holt was reading the newspaper, so he could find a decent job, although, what job would accept a handicapped guy?. The rider from Kentucky was desperated, mostly for his children.

Suddenly, a knock of the door was heard, Holt reacted to the sound and quickly lifted his head up. The cowboy looked at his son sitting on the couch, which was nearer to the door, playing with his Xbox, super concentrated.

“Joe would you get the door?” Holt asked the boy.

“I’m busy dad, I’m in the middle of a mission right now.” the kid responded.

Holt rolled his eyes and spoked again, “Joe, c’mon, or I’ll plug off that damn thing this instant” he warned out loud.

Joe turned his head to see his father and reluctantly the kid obeyed him. He paused his game and circled the couch to get to the entrance.

“It was an important mission you know?” Joe protested.

“Yeah you said that yesterday 12 o’clock PM, you’ve been playing all week boy”

Joe’s eyes widened and then he nodded embarassed, “Non taken.”

The boy headed to the door and opened it, only to find a short man, he was the same height as Joe. He was around his sixties, had white curly hair, a pair of shades on his eyes, brown shorts, black flip flops and a radiant colorful hawaiian shirt.

“Hey Max!” Joe exclaimed in surprise seeing their family friend.

“What’s up little buddy!” Max responded in glee, “Tell me, is your dad here? I have excelent news for him.” the short man said excited.

“Max!” Holt waved him from the kitchen, “Come on in and sit.”

Max Medici, a not very succesfull sales man, was best friends with Holt’s dad and him when the rider was just a lad. Holt enjoyed his company, his optimism was very contagious even when his plans not always go as he wanted. Anyway, Medici’s smile made everyone smile too, that was one of his gifts.

“What is it Gustavo? Please sit” Holt invited his friend to sit with him at the kitchen table.

Max sighed at the mention of his real name, “Please Holt, just call me Max, ok? You’ll ruin my reputation here.” he took off his sun glasses and cliped them into the collar of his shirt.

“Ok sorry,” Holt chuckled, “What are this incredible news you have for me? Oh, please don’t tell me you had another fail in your bussiness and you need cash.” Holt sat slowly, expecting the news to be bad, since, now he’s used to them “Don’t ask me money pal, I still owing you those $100 bucks from last month---”

“Can you please shut up cowboy” Max interrupted him. “Jeez, I didn’t came here to bother you, on the contrary, I came here to cheer you up, bud.” he said with a huge smile.

Holt rose an eyebrow and listened. “So, what is it?”

“Look, a friend of a friend, of a friend, of a friend of mine, said that a famous actress has a ranch here in Kentucky, and she needs a foreman to take special care of it, mostly the horses.” Max said with a trusting glance.

“Wait, wait, wait a minute. Work for a famous actress? Who?” Holt was curious and wary of proposal.

“Colette Marchant the french actress of course!” the old man made a happy gesture with his hands to encourage his friend.

The name of the woman ranged on Holt and Joe’s ears, so much so that the boy left his game and turned around to face the adults.

“You’ll work for Colette Marchant dad!?” Joe asked happily, “I love her movies, and she’s so pretty. You will work with her dad?”

“What happened? Why is Joe so excited?” Milly enetered to the living room with cellphone in hand and her curly hair combed into a bun.

“Dad is going to work for Colette Marchant, the actress!!” Joe was very happy about the news.

“Wow, really?” Milly looked curious at her father.

“Kids uhhmm, I haven’t decided this yet, I just found out. Go to your rooms and I’ll tell you later, or go outside.” Holt said to his children who obeyed him after a few minutes.

After that, Holt continued, “You want me to work as a foreman for a celebrity?” This didn’t conviced the cowboy very much,”Remember Max, I used to be a celebrity as well, I was like a superhero on top of my horses, if my friends find out that now I work as a foreman... they’ll think I fell so low.”

“Yes I know, but now things changed lad, this is a great job and the pay is very good. Look, this woman will stay in America all summer, from June to September 3rd. The rumor says she wanted to leave her home France for a couple of months and be alone, or somethng like that. She says she loves horses and needs somone efficient for the job. And don’t worry, she does speak english.”

Holt started to think massaging his chin, “And how is she, I mean, she’s bossy or calm?”

Max inhaled through his nose, “I heard she’s quite, well, spoiled but nothing that you can’t handle.”

“And where’s her ranch?”

“In Louisville, right in the north.” Max answered.

Holt’s eyes opened wide, “Louisville? But that’s too far! Mhmmm, I don’t know Max, I’ll have to think about it...” Holt was trying to considerate the offer.

“Well,” Max said a bit nervous, “in your place I won’t think it that much because... I’ve already talked about you and maybe I’ve send you refferences as well.”

Holt looked at his friend in shock, “You did what!!? How can you do that without telling me!? Are you insane!?.”

“I did it because I knew you were going to doubt and think this kind of job is below you.” Max stated strictly. “Here,” the older man took from his pocket a card with a number, “this is the phone number of her butler, if I were you I’ll call him now and accept the job.”

Holt gave a glare at Max, he couldn’t believe that his friend did all this behind his back.

“Holt c’mon, is a good payed job, surrounded by nature, taking care of horses and have your kids taking fresh air, isn’t that what you wanted?” Max stood up and left the card on the table. “Do it pal is a great opportunity.” the short man put his shades back on his face, approached the door and left.

Holt passed his only hand through his hair and looked at the card, this was all new to him he didn’t know what to do. But at the same time, working for a celebrity could be very interesting not to mention to payment, it could be higher than he can imagine. Also, the most important thing for Holt now are his children, he needed to give them a secured and stable life.

The cowboy reached for his laptop and searched about Colette Marchant, some pictures were showed on Instagram and the most recent one was a photo of her black and white, already in Kentucky sunbathing, in the backround there was her big house of her ranch.

Then Joe’s words about her resonated on Holt’s mind, She looks...pretty... I’ll give her that, he thought. He had never seen any of her movies but now he knows why a lot of people admires her or talks about her as soon as he read the reviews of her films. Then he searched for more pictures of the place, including her horses, which looked very healthy and beautiful. Holt went to the kitchen table and stared at the card with the number one more time. He made a long sigh and took it.

“I must be very crazy right now.” he said trying to grab his phone too.

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

A couple of days later and some other calls made, Holt and his kids finally flew all the way from the south of Kentucky to the north in Louisville to get the foreman cadre. In the airpor they were greeted by Sotheby, Miss Marchant’s english butler.

He gently guided them to the car, which he personally drove, and headed to Marchant’s ranch.

After 30 minutes travelling by car, they finally arrived and admired the big splenderous house. The vehicle parked in front of the property.

“Wow!” Milly and Joe said at the same time in awe looking the place through the window. “ Look at this place! I want to get in now!” the Farrier boy exclaimed opening the car door.

“Now, now lads,” Holt stoped Joe making a sign with his hand, “This is gonna be my working place, let’s go with calm.” Holt exited himself from the car and then his children followed him. He was wearing a dark blue short sleeved t-shirt, blue jeans, snikers and his lucky white cowboy hat. As soon as they were getting closer to the house, Milly took a couple of pictures of it and post them on Twitter.

Once they were on the porch, Sotheby told them to stay there, “Just wait here, Miss Marchant will talk to you in a couple of minutes, please sit.” the english butler politely offered to the Farriers.

Three minutes passed and Holt was already getting nervous, so he decided to talk to the children.

“So, how do you imagine Colette Marchant is behind the cameras?” Holt asked.

“I don’t know,” Milly answered “I heard she’s a diva, I watched her latest film Femme Fatale with my friend some months ago, she was very good in it, but...the plot sucked.”

“I see...” Holt rised his eyebrows. He remembered when he read Colette’s film reviews, some the critics said practically the same, Colette was stunning, but the direction and script by the known famous director VA Vandevere, where just ok or not very good.

Suddenly Sotheby appeared again, the Farriers rose up from porch couch and waited for the butler to speak.

All of the sudden, coming out from the door, there was a woman on her mid thirties, with almost wavy black hair, black dress, make up on her eyelids and intense blue eyes. It was her.

“Mademoiselle Marchant, this is Holt Farrier and his children, he came here for the foreman job.” Sotheby intoduced the cowboy and the actress.

Joe and Milly where in awe by looking at the elegant actress, Joe tried his best to not squeal, while Milly couldn’t contain her big grin.

Holt put his head steady and took a deep breath. “Hi, is a pleasusre to meet you,” the rider offered his hand to shake with hers.

But when Colette turned around to see clearer the man, her face showed a shocked expression. Then she started to talk.

“Uhhhmm, excuse moi but, what is this?” the french lady questioned staring at the cowboy.

Holt’s eyebrows frowned in confusion, “I’m sorry? I came here for the job Miss. that’s why I’m here.” he retreated his hand took off his white hat.

Colette’s eyes were fixed on on the man’s left side.

The cowboy noticed that and looked at where his left arm once was. Holt exhaed a quiet laugh and spoke up again. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’ but don’t worry, it didn’t hurt that much.” he said trying to erase the uncomfortable topic, “and it doesn’t hurt now---”

“You don’t have...an arm monsieur.” the french celebrity was obviously dissapointed.

Milly and Joe glanced with concern at their father. They knew how hard it was for him to deal with a missing limb, it was something that made him more insecure with time. But they also knew that their dad tried to ignore it and move on, he hated when others feel pity for him.

“Well, yes Miss,” Holt started to get even more puzzled, “I mean....you didn’t know?” he looked at Sotheby who was just as confused as him.

Colette sighed impatiently “Do you think I would’ve hire a handicapped man as my foreman if I knew he was handicapped?”

“But, with all respect, I thought they had send you my refferences. My friend send them to you.” Holt explained.

“I have recived them and nothing in there mentioned a missing arm.” Miss Marchant said bluntly.

Holt started to breathe through his teeth with impotence, “Max you idiot!” he quietly muttered a bit enraged. First Max send his refferences without asking him first and he didn’t even mention the thing about his arm? The rider wanted to kill his friend at that moment.

The european lady sensed Holt’s discomfort and clasped her hands, “I’m sorry, but I cannot hire someone who is not capable.”

Holt turned his head to face the woman, breathing deeply and swallowing , “I am capable, please Miss, give me a chance.”

“You are not up to my standards, ma cherie.I cannot force a cripple to do this kind of work, because they can’t---”

That word hit Holt right in the chest, like bullet to his heart. That single word made his blood boil and encreased his anger, “I’m not... a cripple.” he said low and serious.

Colette’s eyes opened wide giving him a sarcastic shocked reaction, “Then I am not french!” she stated joking with irony, “Oh, my parents will be glad to hear it!”.

“Very funny.” Holt gave her an unamused sideway smile, “Look, if I’m going to stay in this place to be insulted, I’ll get the hell out of here. Let’s go lads.” Holt put his hat on, taking his children with him while walking away from the woman and her butler.

Colette crossed her arms, exhaled an unimpressed sigh, denying her head. She looked how the Kentucky rider was leaving the porch walking by her loan, until she spoke again.

“With that attitude of yours you are not going to get anywhere. You are too proud, cherie.”

The Farriers stoped as soon as Holt stoped, the rider bit his lip and slowly turned around. He wasn’t going to let this woman to have the last word.

“And you, princess,” the cowboy challenged, “you’re too spoiled”. His kids looked at eachother in surprise for what his father had just said.

Colette’s mouth fell open at Holt’s statement, “What an attitude.”

“What an ego.” Holt interjected again teasing her, imitating her tone and with a rised eyebrow.

“You have a problem?” Colette’s voice became demanding. She started to walk towards him.

“You’re my problem. Princess.” Holt smiled like a child.

“Do not take that tone with me. Do not disrespect me!” Colette approached the cowboy until she was just one meter from him. “And please, do not call me a ‘princess’.”

“You called me a cripple, and I call you princess. I think is pretty fair.” Holt rested his hand on his hip. “It is what you’re. You’re spoiled, believing you’re better than me, also, you like to whine when people tells you the truth. Oh, I’m sorry, did her majesty got her feelings hurt.” he teased her with a exagerated pout.

“How dare you---!” before Colette would say or do something else, the cat and dog fight was interrupted by Sotheby who ran towards the two of them.

“Miss Marchant, if I may please!” Sotheby calmed his boss, “Try to considerate this man, we have read his file, he may not have an arm, but his expirience is very good. Better than the other ones, and Miss, if I you give me your permission to say this, yesterday you said you liked his profile, that it was what you needed.”

“Don’t worry mister.” Holt stated directly to the butler. “Is not necessary to defend me, we’re going now, have a nice day. C’mon children.”

But Milly did not move, “No dad wait.” she exclaimed and turned to face Colette.

Holt and Joe stayed where they stood when Milly spoke. Her dad whispered to her, “Milly, what you doin’?”.

Milly walked towards the actress with her chin held high and honesty in her eyes, “Miss Marchant please forgive my dad, I know he can be a bit, well, stuborn.”

“I saw that.” Colette gave a glare at Milly’s father for a second. Holt rolled his eyes.

“But... he tried for months to get a job that we don’t know if he’ll ever get another opportunity like this one anytime soon. Please, give him another chance.”

The girl’s pleading moved a little the french woman, she amired how determinated she was, it reminded of herself when she was Milly’s age.

“Please Miss,” the Farrier girl’s voice suddenly became melancholic, “since...my mom died, life has been hard on us.” she turned to see her family, “It was very hard for my dad too, he lost his arm in an accident, but he’s still strong, he always was.” the girl smiled at her dad.

Holt felt overwhelmed by his daughter’s words and smiled back at her. Then he faced once more at the actress who was just moved as him. Sotheby also felt the emotions of the girl.

Miss Marchant placed a hand on her heart and showed a genuine worried expression, “Your mother died, petit? I’m so sorry...I didn’t knew.”

“It’s ok.” Milly answered.

“What was her name?” Colette asked.

“Annie.” Holt responded for his daughter, “Her name was Annie. She left us an year ago.”

“I see, and what is your name petit?” Colette asked to the girl.

“Milly”

“And yours monsieur?” the actress looked at the boy at Holt’s side.

Joe froze as the famous celebrity talked to him, “I-I’m Joe, a-a-and I’m your biggest fan.” Joe said nervous.

Colette laughed a bit at the boy’s presentation, she thought it was kind of cute. She glanced over Holt again and approached him litte by little, making him suspect on what this woman is going to do now.

“How much do you need this job?” she sternly asked at the rider, not breaking eye contact.

Holt blinked and inhaled deeply, “Honestly....very much.”

“Tres bién, I’ll give one more chance, I’m not giving it just because you are capable, we will see about that with the time. But also because this will be good to your children as well, do it for them, not just for you.”

“I am”. Holt answered firmly looking at the woman’s sapphire eyes.”My kids... are the most sacred thing I have left in this world.”

She gave him a trusting grin, “That’s the attitude I wanted. You are hired ma cherie.” she gave him her hand.

Holt looked at her elegant and white hand and gently, he took it and shaked it, sealing the deal. He glanced again at her face forming a tiny smile and feeling the softness of the lady’s hand.

“And I’m sorry if I insulted you, is just you can really push a person’s buttoms, monsieur.” Colette said not letting go the gentleman’s hand.

“I can say the same thing about you, but I’m sorry too. Thank you for givin’ me this chance, I hate to admit it but I’m forever in your debt.” Holt’s voice became quickly smooth with real remorse on his apologizing words. Then, he winked at her to give her trust.

All of the sudden, Colette’s cheeks turned pink, she was blushing. She didn’t know if the cowboy noticed, they were in summer so he could see her cheeks became hot for the heat. But Holt would never guess what was happening inside Colette’s body, because Holt’s commentary and the soft look in his eyes made her heart skip a beat.

The woman coughed and gently released her hand, she still could felt the roughness of the rider’s hand on her palm and fingers. But... somehow....she liked it.

“Tres bién! Let’s go inside, shall we?” Colette guided the Farriers to her house. Milly and Joe rushed inside the mansion, leaving Holt and Colette behind. The two giggled at the kids’ enthusiasm.

“They are very charming, monsieur.” Colette said walking alongside Holt, Sotheby was heading to the house a few meters away from them.

“Yes, they are. I’d give my life for them.” Holt turned to see the actress.

“I know they will enjoy being here, you will have good rooms to stay and later I will show my horses.”

“That sounds nice.... princess.” Holt teased her, containing his laughter.

Colette, as soon as she reached the entrance door, she turned again back to him with a warning stare, “Do not play smart with me Holt, I mean it.”

“Sorry...” he took off his hat and put it behind his back, he was smiling in a very naughty way.

“Non, you are not.” Colette crossed her arms, smiling in the same way as him.

“True.” with that Holt entered in the house. Leaving the french lady denying with her head, rolling her eyes and laughing to herself.

“Oh mon dieu, this man!” she entered to her house and closed the door behind her.

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

THE END.

@vavandeveresfan This was fun, not my best work but still fun, I hope you liked it ;)

8 notes · View notes