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jvngkook97 · 1 year

Text

Muse

synopsis; in which Jungkook is a contestant on a reality show for top artists in the nation and he asks you to partake in a FaceTime interview at the last second.

pairing; artist!jungkook x girlfriend!reader

genre; fluff, humor, established relationship, art of the soul au, drabble

warnings; suggestive dialogue

rating; 18+

w/c; 2,862

a/n; you do NOT need to read the art of the soul series in order to read this, but feel free if you wish to do so! i’ll even leave you a little link down below ;) also, don’t mind me posting this randomly, just trying to get back into the groove of writing again. enjoy~ don’t be a silent reader! <3 feedback is always appreciated and helps to keep this writer motivated to put out more content – like this! all the love, always.

Read AOTS Here -> 01

Calling Jungkook…

The call connects and you’re greeted by Jungkook’s dreamy smile. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. Even through a video call, he gives you butterflies.

You watch as his eyes light up when you join the call. His smooth voice is just as sweet as you remember.

“Hi beautiful.”

“Jungkook! Hey!” Your eyes greedily rake over his laxed figure that sits in a random chair. It’s been months since you’ve last seen him in person, the last being the day he left to start filming for the reality show he’s currently partaking in. “How do you look even cuter than I remember?”

“I could say the same about you!” He throws his arms out at you with a gusto, leaning forward in the chair to get close to the phone he precariously has propped up against a stack of decorative books that litter the mock living room set around him. His face morphs into one of disbelief at your own natural beauty he hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing for so long.

“I missed your face.”

You find yourself blushing; the words having slipped out of their own accord. This virtual reunion is stirring up more emotions than you expected. You want to reach through the screen and pull Jungkook close. He smiles softly and leans even closer to the camera.

“I miss yours too. So damn much.”

For a minute, you both just savor each other’s presence – even if it is only through a phone screen. Then, you break it, begrudgingly. You don’t know how much time you have left with him until the interview starts.

“Are you in the studio?”

Jungkook grins and nods, you stretch your neck as you try to take in the scene over his shoulder, as if the action itself could somehow make you see better…it doesn’t. What you can see in your limited view, however, is this. The space is bustling with artists, models, and crew members – filling the studio with chatter that filters in from the background through your own phone speakers.

“Yep! This is where all the magic happens. And the less than magical stuff, too.”

“I’d rather you come make some magic over here.” You give Jungkook a seductive look, and he returns a smirk. A fire ignites in his eyes that you’ve been missing since he left.

“I bet you’d like that.” You don’t miss the way his voice drops when he speaks next that has you subconsciously wetting your lips, reminiscing on previous intimate moments between you both.

Jungkook is sitting at what you believe must be his work station, but his attention is all on you. His model must be taking a break, so you’re both free to gaze into your phones like lovebirds for a while longer.

“I’m feeling pretty lucky that I get to talk to you in the middle of a shoot like this.”

“Me too! How long do I have you all to myself?”

Jungkook shakes his head with disappointment.

“Not long enough. I’m sure they’re going to barge in on us with cameras any second now.”

You pout cutely, it makes his bunny smile appear.

“We’ll have to make the most of this moment then.”

Jungkook offers a content sigh before a mischievous smile spreads across his face.

“Why do I suddenly have the urge to skip the rest of the challenge and talk to you all day?”

Your eyes light up with an idea. You snap your fingers at him, pointing.

“Just do it! Tell the hosts you got locked in the supply closet.” You present your suggestion with a cheesy grin, and you both laugh. It feels good to joke with each other, even just for a minute. Jungkook looks tenderly into the camera at you.

“I missed the sound of your laugh.”

He continues to look into the camera with adoration in his eyes. You spent a beat in silence, content to finally be chatting again, grinning madly. Inwardly, you’re cursing the stupid show rules that don’t allow phones in order to avoid any spoiler leaks.

“Thanks for doing this on such short notice. They literally didn’t tell us about it until there was already paint on our models.” He has a small scowl on his face, and you can’t help but laugh at the mental image of twelve frenzied artists finding out about their bonus challenge.

“No problem! I’m happy to be here, and uh–,” you fidget nervously, looking down at your fingers that sit atop the desk you’re currently using for this spontaneous interview located in your shared apartment with Jungkook. “Thanks for picking me.”

You feel a warmth in your chest as you say it, cheeks gaining a small tint to them at how flustered you feel about him choosing you of all people to be the subject of his interview. You flashback to when he first asked you, only a little bit ago.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

20 Minutes Earlier - Texting

Jungkook: Baby? Are you there? It’s kind of urgent 😬

Is everything okay? 😯

Jungkook: I’m fine! Just short on time.

What’s up?

Jungkook: I’m in the middle of a storytelling challenge. And they just told us we each need to video call a guest for an interview.

OMG am I your phone-a-friend???

Jungkook: Of course you are 😂

What an honor! I’d love to, I just wish I had a little time to prepare. Lol.

Jungkook: I know it’s short notice…it was a surprise to us too. The director said they want to introduce the top 10 and “share our stories.” There’s no one I’d rather have representing me….no one else gets me like you do. 👉🏻👈🏻

I’ll win the hearts of thousands of new fans for you 😉

Jungkook: I honestly think you would. When I’m talking about my muse, I’m in my best light.

I’m a strategic advantage 😘

Jungkook: I bet together we could shake off some of the negative attention I’ve been getting. I also, obviously, miss you like crazy. What do you think? Can you do it?

I’d love to! Do I get to tell everyone I’m your favorite person?

Jungkook: Of course you do ❤️

I might start gushing about you during the interview, hope you don’t mind 😚

Jungkook: I think I’ll get a gold star if one of us starts crying so….. 😉 Are you ready? I’m about to start the call.

Go ahead 😊

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Present Time

Jungkook smiles warmly into the camera. His voice is tender, eyes sincere.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else. Plus, it means I get to see you. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“I’m just happy I was actually free when you called, though let’s be honest–,” you shrug your shoulders. “I would’ve dropped anything to help you.”

“Thank you, baby. But seriously, right? They definitely thrive on chaos here.”

Jungkook shoots a glare off screen, presumably at the camera crew. He sighs as they move into frame and set up around him.

“Here comes Rick, I think they’re going to start the interview now.”

“Already? I haven’t practiced at all!”

Your heart pounds, but Jungkook eases your worries with a sly smile.

“Don’t overthink it.”

After the camera crew piles around him, a smarmy looking man with a microphone — Rick, one of the celebrity judges — slides into view and sidles up next to Jungkook.

“Hello! Thanks for joining us today! Now, Jungkook, who do we have here?”

Rick’s eyes dart between Jungkook’s and yours with an exaggerated air of excitement, something you’re positive he’s done multiple times being on camera cause he was used to it. However, with your line of work of being a model, you were not.

Interviews weren’t mandatory, only posing for pictures was. And that? You were an expert at. Jungkook could see you begin to fidget nervously and opted to take the attention off you, if just for a moment longer to get your bearings together.

Jungkook squared his shoulders and sat up straight, puffing his chest even a bit in pride before he spoke, his eyes never leaving yours.

“My guest is y/n. My muse.”

You try to swallow your nerves as Rick peers at you through Jungkook’s phone. Your only line of defense is to smile broadly and hope your voice doesn’t crack.

“Hello!” Seemed cheery enough you think, albeit a tad shaky, but if anyone noticed they didn’t say anything.

Jungkook offers a proud smile as Rick effortlessly dons his tv host persona. He speaks directly into one of the studio cameras, flashing a knowing grin.

“You know, I had a feeling Jungkook was going to call you today.”

“I heard Jungkook has been hyping me up.”

Jungkook shrugs as if to say there’s no denying it. He offers a humble defense to keep the mood light.

“I’m a pretty big fan.”

“Yes, we’ve heard a lot about you. If I didn’t know better, I might think Jungkook has a bit of a crush!”

You gulp, unsure of how to respond. Doesn’t he know you’re dating? Before you can figure out what to say, Rick laughs and gives Jungkook a playful nudge.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Y/N, I can tell Jungkook doesn’t use the word “muse” lightly. What’s it like to be such a source of inspiration?”

“I would say we both inspire each other. We energize one another, you know? Creatively and otherwise. We keep a fire going in each other.”

Rick nods knowingly, but your eyes are on Jungkook, who is absolutely beaming.

“What a beautiful sentiment. Is it hard to keep that fire going while he is away with us?”

Now it’s your turn to square up your shoulders in pride and confidence, voice strong and words absolute.

“If the episodes I’ve watched told me anything, it looks like Jungkook’s creative spark is alive and well.”

Rick keeps the interview moving at a clip, eager to ask his next question.

“It sounds like you two know each other quite well. How did you meet? Is there a story there?”

Now that you think about it, you don’t think you ever told the world exactly how you two came to meet yet. Though it’s nothing unique, the world will come to find.

“We met online, technically. I’ve always been a fan of Jungkook’s artwork and was interested in purchasing a piece of his. He asked if I wanted to see it in person before making a final decision, so we met up. Hit it off immediately and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

Rick have a chortle with a shake of his head.

“Ah, the internet. It’s amazing how it brings people together.”

“It’s been a journey for sure! From sending a single message to–,” you gesture around you, eyes wide with disbelief and expression full of happiness. “–all of this!”

Rick raises a hand to his ear, ready for you to spill even more gossip and juicy details. The caricature of it all makes you want to laugh, but it puts you at ease at the same time.

“What is he like off set? Let’s give the folks at home an idea of who Jungkook really is.”

“He’s every bit as charming and fun as he seems on camera, maybe even more.”

“Here on set, we’re getting used to Jungkook goofing around before the challenges kick off. Some people thrive in the spotlight, and I love it almost as much as the cameras do!”

“You can always count on him to put a smile on your face.”

Jungkook gives a sheepish look, clearly flattered but with the fluster of feeling called out.

“Well, I’m not going to shut myself away with twenty other artists without making a few friends!”

The three of you laugh together before Rick clears his throat to ask the next question. Jungkook leans back in his seat with a satisfied grin.

“I understand your relationship with Jungkook isn’t purely an artistic one. Give us the juicy details!” Rick leans forward in his seat with a gusto, using his entire body to show exactly how much he wants you to give something for the cameras and for the show itself.

“We love to have fun and explore our creativity. He has this playful energy that’s so infectious. He isn’t afraid to get messy, so there’s never a dull moment.” You smile wistfully as you try to explain what you find so special about your relationship with Jungkook.

Your heart races as you recall memories of laughing together while you worked on his audition reel. You center yourself by keeping your eyes on him, trying to mirror his relaxed demeanor.

“We always have something exciting going on, televised body painting competitions included.”

“I’m sure the excitement doesn’t stop there.”

Rick gives Jungkook a teasing look.

“It sounds like you and y/n have something really special. How did you pull that off?”

Jungkook keeps his lax position, hands folded on top of his crossed knees. As he answers Rick, his eyes stay focused on yours, sending you a small bunny toothed grin that you can’t help but beam at yourself. Your entire body buzzes with warmth.

“I had some luck on my side the day we met, for sure, but – you’re right, Rick. This is really special. I’m grateful everyday to have y/n in my life.”

You let Jungkook’s words sink in, and they wrap around you like a warm hug. You could lose yourself in the sound of his voice echoing in your head, but Rick snaps you out of your gleeful silence.

“Now, y/n, why do you think Jungkook has what it takes to win the competition?”

That’s easy, you think.

“He can do anything he sets his mind too.”

“Thanks, y/n, that’s really sweet.”

Rick let’s out a sigh only one who has the privilege of being in love can make as his eyes dart between both you and Jungkook’s own lovesick expressions, completely disregarding the fact it’s being caught on camera for the whole world to see.

“What a fantastic way to close out this call, don’t you think?”

You nod, albeit reluctantly to have it end, wanting to spend as much time talking to (or about) Jungkook as much as possible. That interview turned out to be a breeze, and for that, you’re exceedingly relieved about.

“That is just about all the time we have, though. Thanks for joining us, y/n!”

You wave at the camera.

“Bye Jungkook. I miss you! Can’t wait to hug you again!”

“I miss you too, thanks for calling in!”

Rick all but skips out of view, a train of cameras following behind him. Jungkook holds his phone once again, taking a moment to say goodbye before returning to the chaos of the challenge.

“Wait, y/n! Don’t hang up yet!”

Jungkook’s whole face is one of pure panic as he sees you reach to end the video call, you believing that that was the unfortunate end to your time with him. You jerk your hand back away from the button in surprise.

“Oh! Sure! I’m here, I’m here!”

You throw your hands up in front of the screen so he can see, in fact, you’re not going to press anything. He lets out a puff of air and you both laugh a little at what just transpired. Jungkook looks over his shoulder to make sure Rick and the crew are gone before speaking.

“I couldn’t say this during the interview but–,”

“You have very sexy ideas roaming around your head right now?”

You waggle your eyebrows playfully, but the way you bite your lip has him know you’re half serious.

“How did you know?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking of your hands all over me either.”

Jungkook smirks, a hint of wildfire in his eyes. His voice drops with his next words.

“And what, pray tell, are my hands doing exactly?”

“Whatever you want them to do.”

He lets out a big exhale from his nose, nostrils flaring, and jaw clenching from hidden desire.

“I can’t describe it in words, but the next time we see each other–,” you swear you see his eyes turn a shade darker as he says his next words, no, promise. “–I do plan to show you.”

Your body vibrates in excitement and you can’t help but prod him further.

It’s been way too long.

“Can I get a preview?”

He looks around and rubs his neck nervously.

“Not right now, Rick would have a field day with this “scoop” if he overheard us.”

You chuckle. He has a point. With every contestant and crew member close by, the details of this conversation will have to wait. But you can tell from Jungkook’s face that the only thing he wants more than winning is getting some alone time with you.

“Guess we’ll have to wait then?”

“Not for long, I promise.”

You hear a faint voice call his name in the background that has his figure slumping in disappointment, face sullen.

“I gotta go, but I love you.”

He gives the camera a kiss and you do the same.

“I love you too. Text me when you win.”

And, he does.

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funnyexel · 2 months

Text

banter between you and loki

a/n: I can imagine this happening between black fem reader and Loki. this was in the vault too

“I was not expecting visitors today.” He snarks, his eyes staying on his book.

“Right but then again you’d rather words to a person.” You speak casually, shoulders easing its tension as you grow comfortable in the new presence.

“What poor soul did you agitate to be here today.” He closes the book standing from his slouched position on the chair and rests the book down behind him. His eyes drinking you in as his words express otherwise.

“You move to insult me.” Your lengthy sleeves lift from dragging against the floor along with your dress to dangling faintly as your hands cover your heart.

“No, I’m more so impressed.” He eases, your light colored dress mixing nicely with your skin color, providing a satisfying palette to his eyes.

“A compliment? Maybe the dungeon is changing you for the better.” Your attempt at a joke is taken wrongly when his arms fold across his chest.

“It is not.” In the pause, you take another step.

“When will you be released. My coronation is very well near.” You change the subject of conversation to pressing matters.

“That is not how these tasks are completed here.” He says regarding the way you think these procedures are run in Asgard. Everything is run according to Odin, whatever he says, whatever he wants, everyone must abide.

“Of course not.” He paces back and forth in his confinement. The ticking of a pocket clock compelling the attention of your mind, you are running out of time.

“It will be lengthy but you might be capable.”

“There it is.” You urge, calf length braids flowing over your shoulders and hiding your expressions from the guards. “What ever you acquire me to do, be sure it is within reason and time frame.” You say, making sure you’re stern with him.

“Break me out.” You scoff halfway through his words. His stance not helping his unserious statement, looking as if you quite literally popped his bubble.

“You’re kidding.” You fail to bite back a chuckle. Your face shifting back to business. “I refuse.”

“Then you will not have a coronation.” He shrugs.

“That’s not how my obligations work. Remember my realm doesn’t revolve around a king.” You remind him that your kingdom needs a queen more than a king and it revolves around its people more than anything else.

“Ah yes, the elves way of life.” His slender fingers run through his jet black hair and you had to curse him for getting himself in this mess. Something in you wanted to yank him out the human fish tank yourself, take him home with you and make him king in two different ways.

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, eyes scanning your swift change in expression. “Does he.. Is he always that odious to you?” Your low voiced statement takes him aback. Straightening his posture and clothing as if you hadn’t said anything at all. Although his eyes are telling a different tale, a tale of hurt and misunderstanding. Tucking your luscious braids behind your ear, you are expecting to leave without an answer.

“I will continue negotiations between our realms. When I return it will be to release you from this cubicle.” You give him a soft smile and turn back down the looming hallway. Taking two steps with the guards behind, you sigh. Already feeling the weight on your shoulders.

He calls out your name. Looking back, you watch him closely, “he is and always will be.” Turning away from each-other at the same time, the eclipse you both were under, breaks and you ascend the steps lifting up your dress. Having your staff returned to you, you need to talk to someone who’ll listen. In order to get your husband off the hook. Treading through the hall with a female guard four paces behind, you heard distant whispering. Handmaids conversing in a hushed manner in the corner of your eye. Fixing the hair you casted behind your ear to dangle in front your face and hide the flesh.

a/n: why do I actually miss writing like this??? anyway black history month is almost over and I gotta get these posts in.

more writing

#fanfiction #y/n #black fanfiction #smut #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #loki mcu #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x y/n #black history month #black women

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maraschinomerry · 11 months

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hi lovely, adore your writing <3 i was wondering if i could get a lucy x fem!reader where lucy thinks she’s jealous of the reader cause she always thinks the readers so pretty and it’s just a lot of pining and everyone’s trying to make lucy realise she’s in love, and then one day she sees someone flirting with r and is like oh i’m not jealous i’m gay and just a lot of fluff and things thank yoy so much <3333

Chance Encounters

Pairings: Lucy Carlyle x fem!reader

Content: oblivious flirting, pining, self-esteem issues, kissing

A/N: what a way to get back into writing, this is one of my longest fics yet! Thanks for being so patient with me, hope you enjoy it 💙

Word count: 3.8k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea (let me know if you want adding or removing!)

Lucy flopped into her seat with a stack of books and a dejected huff. "Do Fittes have a secret beauty quota for new hires or something?"

Lockwood and George both began speaking at the same time from the other side of the table - Lockwood to assure her that she'd be a shoe-in if that were the case, George to protest that Kipps would never have been hired.

The team were in the British Archives researching a particularly tough case, when Kipps and his crew strolled in with their newest member. If Lucy had thought Kat was pretty, this new girl was on a whole other level. Girls like that always got the best jobs, the most attention from boys, all the perks. It just wasn't fair.

You kept close, tucked behind Kipps' shoulder, as your team strode with far more confidence than you through the maze of shelves. You'd only joined Fittes a week ago and were still getting used to all the rules, both written and unwritten. Kat had at least warned you in advance about the odds of running into Lockwood & Co, how fierce the rivalry was between their leader and yours.

"Ah, Tony," Kipps said ahead of you, and you almost ran into him with how little you'd been concentrating.

Whatever you'd been expecting the members of the infamous agency to be like, this wasn't it. The one scowling most intensely at your colleague must be Lockwood, not the older man you'd pictured but a thin, smartly dressed teenager with bags under his eyes almost as dark as his hair. He was only accompanied by two other people, a curly haired boy who was only visible down to his glasses over the top of an enormous stack of books, and a pretty brunette girl who hadn't taken her eyes off you from the moment you walked in. Her gaze was unwavering and unreadable, and you had to resist the urge to squirm.

You tuned back in. Kipps was speaking again. "Allow me to introduce (name), one of the most prestigious agents the country has to offer." It would have been embarrassing enough had he just called you prestigious, but the way he emphasised it made you wonder if it was some kind of dig at them. You tried to shrink further behind him, cheeks growing warm.

"I'm Lucy Carlyle," the girl suddenly blurted. Her eyes widened as though she was surprised by her own actions. The boys also looked at her, a little stunned. "I mean," she fumbled, "obviously just call me Lucy. This is Lockwood and George."

Learning her name finally made it click where you'd heard of the other agency. "Oh, you solved the Annabel Ward case! I remember seeing it on the news, you're amazing!"

Kipps elbowed you without subtlety, but you didn't miss the way Lucy's face changed. It was only brief, but there was a flicker of pride and something like awe.

"I was going to say the same to you!" Clearly she hadn't noticed Kipps' reaction, nor the unusual look her boss was shooting her. "I'd give anything to have been there when you fought that Rawbones, it sounded so impressive."

"Well," Lockwood chipped in at last, "when you get fed up of Kipps you know where to find us to exchange stories and advice." The flash of a glare he shot your boss was sharp as a rapier, but he smiled warmly at you.

You returned the smile. "Either way, I'm sure we'll run into each other again." Lucy met your eyes again, but where before she'd stared intensely, now she quickly averted her gaze. Odd. Kipps led you away before you could address the matter further.

—

Nearly two months went by without so much as a glimpse of Lockwood & Co. Part of you wondered whether Kipps was intentionally avoiding them, but you knew that was irrational - even he couldn't predict their movements all the time.

This proved true one Saturday afternoon, when you were sent on a last-minute errand to Satchell's. Your team was out of flares, Kat had said, and Fittes wouldn't get an official restock until Monday. Armed with your rapier, a wad of petty cash, and firm instructions not to return empty handed, you hailed a cab across town. It was a pleasant enough day, but you didn't much feel like walking. Best to get the supplies and get back to whichever task Kipps no doubt had lined up for you next.

Kipps wasn't a bad team leader, not by any stretch of the imagination. He was fair, mucking in on tasks and never asking anyone to do something he wouldn't be willing to do himself, and caring enough to always check in after a case. Nonetheless, it was clear this rivalry with the other agency had had an impact on him and made him so desperate to push himself, and by extension his team, to higher and higher standards. Frankly, it was a little exhausting.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't realise you were running on autopilot until you reached for the handle to Satchell's door and another hand came to rest over yours. A streak of blue appeared in the corner of your eye, and you looked up to see a familiar brunette.

"Lucy, hi!"

The other girl jumped a little. "Oh, (name) I'm so sorry, I was in my own world there." You waved the apology away with your free hand, glancing briefly at the other under hers. She noticed, following your gaze, and quickly snatched hers back with a nervous chuckle. No longer at risk of accidentally smacking her with the door, you opened it and gestured for her to go ahead. She stepped in, reaching back to hold it open from within for you.

Inside was a maze of weaponry. Shelves upon shelves of neat packaging stamped with the Satchell's logo; you recognised many of them, of course, salt bombs and Greek fire and lavender water, but there didn't seem to be much logic to how they were laid out. Turning one corner brought you face to face with floor-to-ceiling silver-glass. Where did you start?

You'd frozen on the spot, and Lucy was a little way ahead of you before she faltered. She must have realised you were no longer behind her.

"Everything okay?"

You nodded unconvincingly. "Fine, I just… haven't actually been in here before."

"Oh, it's easy enough to find your way around once you know. They sort of organise by intensity so you can't get someone popping in the door and making off with an armful of bomb flares." You both giggled at the thought. "But, um, I can show you around a bit if you know what you're looking for?"

You felt your smile ignite, but she continued hurriedly without noticing. "Only if you want, I mean, the staff are super helpful here and they probably know more than me. Not that you can't figure it out on your own, you seem like one of those cool independent types so-"

Finally, you cut her off with a gentle hand on her arm. She stopped talking instantly, like you'd managed to find a secret 'off' switch, and actually looked as though she'd short-circuited entirely. Cautiously, shyly, you slid your hand down and through until your arm was linked with hers. 'Off' no longer pressed, she sprung back to life with a fierce blush.

As Lucy led you round the shop, she chatted away about the different types of defences on offer. She’d taken you to the flares you were looking for first, of course, but when you made no move to leave she took you along to gather her own supplies. She’d seemed so jittery at first, you almost worried she was uncomfortable having you there, but the more she spoke about her experience making her own salt bombs and the run-in she had with a bunch of ghostly monks and a bomb flare, the more confident she became. Something about seeing her so in her element helped you to relax as well. It broke the ice.

“So what’s it like at Lockwood and Co?” you asked eventually. You’d been curious about the other agency ever since that first meeting - nothing about them had been expected, and you wondered if maybe the impression Kipps had given was more biased than you thought.

Lucy glanced at you, arm deep in a shelf stocked to the brim with vials of lavender water (they stock from the back, she’d advised, so the fresh ones are the hardest to reach). She hadn’t expected the question, but the answer came naturally. “Great, actually. I came to London hoping to get in with one of the big agencies like Fittes, but I didn’t have any of the right papers so I ended up there as sort of a last resort. It was difficult to get used to at first, they’re not exactly by-the-book as you’ve probably heard from Kipps, but now I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Lockwood and George are like family.”

The final part hit you like a ton of bricks. That was what you’d felt missing in your team. They were all good people and had quickly grown to be your friends, but they didn’t feel like family. Fittes didn’t feel like home. And here was this girl, who before today had barely had a full conversation with you, guiding you round the shop like it was nothing and telling you how this funny little agency was just that. Home. A weight you didn’t even realise you’d been carrying shifted, working its way up from the pit in your stomach to your chest where it settled, resolute yet comforting.

You realised you were now the one staring when Lucy waved a fistful of vials at you. “I think that’s me sorted,” she nodded to the smartly dressed man at the till. You picked up your basket of flares from the ground, wrapping your other hand around the wad of cash in your pocket, and followed her lead.

—

The rosy hues of evening were beginning to drift across the sky when the two of you emerged onto the high street. You hadn’t realised how long it had been; Kipps would be wondering where you were. The weight in your chest and the smile on your face told you that you didn’t much care. Now that the temperature had dropped a couple of degrees it was much more pleasant, and a gentle breeze ruffled your hair, carrying a soft floral scent. There were no flowers nearby, and you wondered whether it came from the girl beside you. It was lovely, whatever it was.

“Thanks again Lucy, I’d still be lost in the first set of shelves if it wasn’t for you.” The laugh that got from her was as fresh as the breeze, and you couldn’t help but smile wider. It gave you the courage to continue and ask, “Could I walk you home?”

Lucy frowned, and you worried it was too forward. You’ve only met her twice, for goodness sake. “Isn’t Fittes the other way? I don’t want to drag you all the way across town for no reason.”

That was hopeful - she wasn’t concerned about your intentions but for your wellbeing. “I don’t really want to head back just yet,” you admitted. “Besides, you’ve got more bags than me, the least I can do is give you a hand after all your help in there.” She tried to protest, but you held out a hand and with some reluctance she handed one over until you had two each. “There’s something I need to ask Lockwood too, so…”

This was turning out to be a day full of surprises, because you couldn’t possibly have predicted what Lucy said next. “Oh, he’s single, if that’s what you want to know.”

All the breath in your chest rushed out at once, the weight pressing hard on your lungs. “What?”

Your shock was mirrored on her face. “I just… after you were both talking about meeting again in the Archives… and since he’s a bit of a charmer and you’re gorgeous, I figured-” The words died in her her throat as the blush returned, this time reaching up to the tip of her ears and down past the collar of her playsuit.

You fought to keep your smile from breaking into a full-blown grin. The poor girl looked like she wanted nothing more than for the pavement to open up and swallow her whole, and while it was so tempting to tease her a little and see how far that blush could spread you resisted. Plenty of time for that, if you’d read things right. For now, you gave a light chuckle. “Thanks, but I don’t think I’ve been charmed by him.” You tried your best to give the right amount of emphasis on the fact it wasn’t by him, but it didn’t seem to help. Maybe you’d misunderstood. You hoped not. Maybe she was just embarrassed and not thinking about it properly. At any rate, she didn’t shy away when you tucked in close for the walk back.

—

Lucy paced anxiously through the library. George was curled in one of the armchairs with a comic; you and Lockwood were away in the living room, discussing goodness knows what. She hadn’t dared to ask any further on the walk home. She’d eventually plucked up the nerve to talk to you again after what she’d said (why on earth had she said it in the first place, she wondered) and found you to be so easy to talk to. You’d told her about life at Fittes, she’d told you about life in Portland Row. It sounded fun, chaotic at times but in a good way.

“Will you please sit down before you wear a hole in the carpet,” George groaned. Lucy sighed dramatically, but obeyed and slumped into the other chair. The lamplight cast unusual shadows across her face - it was well into the evening now, curfew had descended, so clearly whatever you had to discuss was of vital importance or you’d have gone back to Fittes by now.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

George didn’t look up. “I really couldn’t say, I don’t know her well enough.”

“Exactly, and Lockwood doesn’t know her very well either, so if she is trying to ask him out then-”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” George interrupted, dropping his comic with uncharacteristic urgency. “You really think that’s why she’s here?” He studied Lucy for a moment - the way she kept glancing at the door like she expected them to walk in hand in hand, the way her index finger tapped rapidly where her hand rested on the arm of the chair, the way her lip wasn’t curled with disgust or outrage but quivering with upset. “Oh my god, you’re jealous!”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Obviously I’m jealous, George. I know what it’s like with girls like her, they’re always one step ahead or one move beyond me. Just because they’re pretty it means they get everything.”

George’s comic was thoroughly neglected now, this was far more interesting. He had his suspicions about why she was reacting like this, but knew her well enough that he couldn’t just come out and say them or she’d deny it. She had to realise for herself. “Riiight, you’re jealous that she gets Lockwood and you don’t.”

Her nose wrinkled, the first confirmation of his theory. “Ew, no. He’s like my brother. I just don’t think it’s fair, is all. She’s been so sweet all day but as soon as there’s a better option I fade into the background again.”

Second and third confirmation: Lucy thought you were sweet (and he remembered she’d said pretty before, a fourth point on the tally) and, whether she realised it or not, had just called herself an option. George was getting more certain by the minute. God, as much as it hurt seeing her think so low of herself, he had to admit it was amusing trying to make her see that perhaps the ‘better option’ was the person you’d gushed over and pointedly said you hoped to see again and whose arm you’d been hanging off the whole afternoon, not the person you’d barely said five words to. “Got it, so you’re just jealous on principle, not of her specifically.”

“Right!” she said confidently.

“And it's nothing to do with you having feelings?”

“Right,” she said less confidently.

George didn’t say another word, just pushed himself up from the armchair and left the room.

Five minutes later, he returned with Lockwood in tow. The taller boy didn’t fully enter the library, just leaned round the door with an excitable twinkle in his eye.

“Ah, Luce, I was just about to give (name) a demonstration of the training area, if you want to come and help? I’m not sure her mind’s really on training at the moment.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively, but Lucy only looked more disappointed than ever.

George grumbled under his breath, low enough that Lucy wouldn’t hear. “Is that your best attempt at acting coy?”

“Coy?” Lockwood hissed back. “I thought I was helping her realise that (name)’s crush isn’t on me, it’s on h-” A sharp elbow in his side cut him off. He returned to normal volume. “Anyway, she’s also going to stay over tonight, if you’re okay sharing your bed? Or I can always put her in-”

Lucy shot up. “No, no, I can share.” Her gaze flickered to George, who gave her a triumphantly smug grin. “And don’t worry about the training, I’ll go with her.” Lockwood matched the other boy’s grin, and ducked out again.

George made his way back to the armchair, Lucy’s eyes following him the whole way. Her expression was a conflicted mess - irritation at proving him right, amazement at her newly discovered feelings, worry and hope all blended together.

“So you were jealous that she might like Lockwood, but not for the reason you thought?” he asked gently. It wasn’t you she was jealous of, seeming to get his attention, but him for getting yours.

She shook her head, tears beginning to well as her lower lip wobbled. “Okay fine, you win, I have feelings! Still doesn’t change the fact she went straight for him. She doesn't like me the way… the way I like her.”

There was no more amusement to be had from this, and it broke George’s heart to see one of his closest friends so upset. He stood and pulled her into a hug, feeling her sniffle into his shoulder. “You know it was you she was talking to when she said about running into us again, right?” Lucy pulled back and looked at him incredulously, puffy cheeks bearing the telltale streaks of tears. She reached up and wiped them away vigorously with her cuffs. “And when Lockwood said she’s too distracted to train it’s not because she’s flirting with him, it’s because she didn’t shut up about you the whole time she was asking to join the agency.” Immediately, Lucy stopped scrubbing at her face. In fact, she stopped crying all together.

“She what?”

“Something about you showing her how much she was missing having a family, and she wants to be part of yours. And she has a bag of flares which technically she’s now stolen from Kipps to sweeten the deal, if you’ll have her. Lockwood said it’s your call.”

Lucy’s frantic rubbing resumed, trying to erase any evidence of her crying even as she hastily made her way to the door. George called after her, “Does this mean you finally acknowledge that I’m always right?” He laughed at the chain of expletives he got in response.

—

You were alone in the basement, admiring the collection of rapiers and trying not to overthink what was taking Lockwood so long, when Lucy came barrelling down the stairs. She skidded to a halt in front of you, breathing heavily and as flushed as she had been earlier.

“You were flirting with me?!” she gasped.

“I… yes?”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“That’s generally how flirting works, love.” Her face grew redder at the pet name. “You only just realised?”

She cast her eyes upwards. “George helped. I thought you were just being nice to get to Lockwood.”

“I told you it wasn’t him I was charmed by.” You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She folded willingly into you, burying her incredibly warm face in the front of your blouse. The heat sparked something in your chest.

“You didn’t say it like that!” she whined.

“Well you know what I just realised?”

“What?”

“How cute you are when you’re flustered.”

“Really?” Her hands ran slowly down your back, coming to rest on your waist, and her eyes met yours before gliding down to your lips.

“No, of course not - I realised in the Archives.”

She smiled shyly, melting your heart even more. “I can’t believe you think I’m cute.”

You dragged her even closer, reaching up to boop her nose which made her scrunch her whole face up in the most adorable way. Your hand continued to the back of her neck, gently bringing her face towards yours. Perhaps you could make her even more flustered.

Lucy had other ideas. Her hands on your waist gripped tightly as she bounced up to meet you, lips soft and sweet yet firm and passionate. Her intensity took your breath away, and you felt your knees buckle. She held you strong, backing you up against the wall for support. You gasped a little into the kiss, trying to regain some air, and she did the same when your hand wound its way into her hair. When you both ran out of ways to breathe, you broke apart, but her hand found yours and yours never left her waist.

“Kipps is going to be absolutely fuming when he hears about all this,” she murmured with a grin.

“Oh trust me, I can’t wait to tell him myself. I quit, I’ve joined a better agency, and I get to be with one of the most amazing agents - one of the most amazing people - I've ever met.”

“I could say the same.” She puffed up her chest, pulled a face and lowered her voice in a silly impression of your now-former boss. “Allow me to introduce (name), one of the most prestigious agents in the country and my girlfriend… if you want to be?” Her voice returned to normal and she bit her lip nervously.

“There’s nothing I’d want more,” you smiled as you leant in to kiss her again.

#lockwood & co x reader #lucy carlyle x reader #lucy carlyle #fem!reader #save lockwood and co #lockwood & co fic

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theforgottenmcrmy · 1 year

Text

Solace (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall part 12 of the series “Growing Strong”. The masterlist, and part 1, can be found HERE . ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, mentions of previous death of characters, and near tooth-rotting fluff

Summary: Following the tragic fire at Harrenhal, you retreated back to the safety of Highgarden, where you, Harwin, and your family have lived for the past several years. But there are loyalties owed to those outside the walls of your family’s ancestral home, and a letter from an old friend coaxes you all to rejoin the wider realm once more.

A/N: *me, looking at pictures and GIFS for Highgarden inspo for this part*: “I want to go to there”

Welcome to time line of episode 8, everyone. I don’t plan on mentioning this super specifically in the story or anything, but I am tweaking the kids’ ages a bit from the books (and show(?) honestly, the show is harder to track this) before the actual start of the Dance. I pictured Jacaerys/Derrik as being around 16-17 years old, and Lucerys/Selwin around 14-15 years old by this point.

Thank you the support🖤 I hope you enjoy this longer chapter that contains what I would argue a lot of fluffy moments. Hopefully this can start make up for the week break and the angsty chapter that was the last one.🥲 I’m also going to be posting a family tree shortly, which will hopefully clear up any confusion about all these whacky relations.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!🖤

To Lady Y/N Tyrell of Highgarden,

My dearest friend, I hope you have been well since you last wrote. I sense a change in the seasons is upon us once more, and I urge you and the rest of your family to take good care of your health. I fear the accrual of more reasons to dread this time of year… As you know, it is nearing the anniversary of the passing of two individuals who were close to my heart.

My Good Sister, Lady Laena Velaryon, is still sorely missed by all who knew her. Although, I must admit that I am most fortunate to see her vibrant spirit live on in her daughters, the Ladies Baela and Rhaena, whom I have come to view as my own.

And then there is my late Lord Husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon. For all our differences, he was still my husband, and the man whose name my eldest sons bear. He had a good heart, and, at the end of it all, we had a true understanding of one another. I cared for him deeply, and I find myself still mourning the loss of him to this day.

With the memories of their passing beginning to occupy my mind once more, I am constantly reminded of the loss that you and your own Lord Husband endured around this same time of the year. As always, I continue to extend my sympathies to you and your family at this time.

Lord Lyonel Strong was a good man, and perhaps an even better Hand to our King. I am certain my father still feels his absence at Court, despite the speed at which his Lady Wife, Her Grace the Queen, filled the vacant position on the small council.

In remembering each and every one of these losses, I am also reminded of just how long it has been since I have had the pleasure of sharing your company. Make no mistake, writing letters by raven has proven more favorable than years of silence, I assure you. But, and perhaps selfishly so, I often find myself recalling the light that you and your family’s presence provided to me and my own.

I am no stranger to dark times, and I fear neither the old or new gods are yet through with me. If I am presented with an opportunity for happiness, I will happily jump at the chance to secure it. Vipers will be vipers, and whether the words they speak are true or not, they will always speak them through forked tongues. The years have made me far less agreeable to bend to their will.

It has been too long, my friend. I would like to invite you, Lord Harwin, and your children to come visit in Dragonstone. Prince Daemon and I would be happy to host your family for as long as you desire. Our boys are almost men now, but I think they would all greatly benefit from rekindling the friendship from their youth. One day, you and I will be gone from this world, and they will rule in our stead. If the gods are kind, that will be many years from now… But, as a cost of my position, I am aware that I have gained many enemies. I shall be more at ease when the Stranger comes to claim me if I know our sons will never find anything less than faithful allies in one another.

I eagerly await your response, and hope to see you soon.

Sincerely,

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen

There were few places in the entire world that were able to bring you more comfort than the familiar gardens of your home.

As alluded to by the name, Highgarden boasted many. Different areas of the expansive grounds housed different types of plants, each needing various degrees of care that only the most dedicated and well compensated gardeners held the entire knowledge of. The magnificent castle that was your ancestral home had been built in the center of them all.

The roses live among roses.

When an immediate member of the ruling family passed, it was tradition for a plant or flower that they favored, or which otherwise symbolized them, to be planted in their memory. Your mother, the only daughter of the Lord Meadows of Grassfield Keep, had a particular fondness for daisies. When she passed, your father planted many of those flowers across the gardens, and all by his own two hands. In turn, your father had long since decided that, in true Tyrell fashion, a new golden rose bush should be planted after his passing. You and Derron had seen to it that his wish was carried out. However, gods bless him, Derron had not lived long enough to convey to you what he wished to be planted after his own passing, so you had to make that decision on your own.

Derron’s passing marked a significant change for House Tyrell, and had changed the outcome of your own life forever. After some consideration, you opted with something a bit more imposing than daisies or roses to honor his memory: a birch tree.

The lure of the birch tree was that it was constantly changing in appearance with the seasons. You loved watching the visual transformations every few months. The gardeners had complimented your choice, noting that the birch tree was believed to symbolize new beginnings and growth. It had been fitting. Perfect, even. It grew at a decent rate as well- after approaching nearly two decades after Derron’s passing, the tree absolutely towered above you, and had come a long way from the tiny sapling you had once planted.

Derron’s tree was planted among others in a certain section of the gardens you had always tended to favor. The shade provided by it and surrounding trees was a welcome escape from the warm sun, particularly in the summer months. And, as the location was tucked away from the main garden path, it also allowed you ample privacy. You loved your home and those who resided within it with all of your heart, but you also had come to appreciate whatever small moments of peace that you were able to find for yourself. Doing so did wonders to clear your mind.

And it was clarity that you desired above all else at that moment as you idly ran your thumb across the letter that you’d received. Correspondence from Princess Rhaenyra was not an uncommon occurrence by any means; you wrote to another frequently. But the contents of this particular letter, which had been delivered by raven that same morning, had your mind bogged down with many thoughts.

There was excitement at the prospect of reuniting with your old friend after so many years. There was elation at the thought of the joy it would bring to your sons to see the Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys once again. But there was also concern… Worry about the potential threats to the solace you and Harwin had worked so painstakingly hard to craft for your family in Highgarden following the horrific tragedy that was the fire at Harrenhal.

You sighed tiredly, and leaned your head against the back of the tree.

…

The sound light giggles drifting over from the main garden path yanked you from your contemplation. But you recognized the sound immediately, and happily welcomed the interruption.

You rose to your feet, pocketed the parchment into your skirts, and made your way out into the open with a noticeable spring in your step.

Standing on the main cobblestone path was a young girl, still a tiny bit of a thing, clutching the hand of her nanny. When she saw you, her comfortingly familiar eyes lit up, and she reached out her small hands in your direction.

“Mama!”

“Mother,” Nanny Bryna corrected her, though you could tell she restrained herself from using the full extent of her sternness.

You beamed, and swiftly pulled your daughter up into your arms. The young girl threw her own arms around your neck in a near vice-like grip as she settled in your hold, but you didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Forgive me, My Lady,” Bryna apologized sincerely. “We did not mean to interrupt you. Lady Luciya was a bit finicky this morning, and I thought a small walk through the gardens might soothe her.”

You looked to Luciya expectantly, awaiting her response to her nanny’s words. The girl was young, with only her third name day occurring in a few months time. But despite her youth, Luciya was already as quick as a whip, and you had no doubt she knew exactly what it was that Bryna was referring to.

However, all your daughter could give you was an entirely pitiful look.

… As if such a sweet face could possibly be “finicky”.

You laughed at Lucyia’s front of innocence briefly, before turning your attention back to her nanny. “There is nothing to forgive, Bryna. I will take her for now.”

Bryna nodded, before giving you a small curtsy.

As her nanny walked away, you turned your attention to your daughter once more, and lightly tapped her on the nose with a single finger. “Now, Sweetling, what is all this business about you being unpleasant this morning?”

Luciya gave you a sheepish smile, before turning and hiding her face in your hair.

With Harwin’s curls, your eyes, and a combination of the pair of your remaining facial features, Luciya was the perfect balance of you and your husband. She reminded you each so very much of the mothers that you and Harwin had both lost at a young age. Luciya was small, but lively. She was quick to learn, just like Derrik had been; Bryna had already begun to work with her on reading and writing. And her sweetness rivaled Selwin’s at that age; though she was not immune to foul moods, her disposition was almost always more pleasant than not.

Luciya had been… unexpected, in a sense. After all, more than a decade after Selwin’s first name day had passed by the time she was born. But she had been no less welcomed for it. It was immediately clear that the young girl was the perfect final addition to your small family. Luciya had stolen the hearts of everyone she met, yours and Harwin’s included chief among them. Even your eldest children were taken with her; Derrik enjoyed reading to her whenever his studies and training allowed it, and Selwin had been taking her on short horseback rides around the castle grounds before she was even able to walk.

You ran a light hand over her curls absentmindedly for a moment, when all of the sudden, a brilliant idea struck you. You leaned in close, and gave her a conspiring smile. “Shall we see what your father and brothers are up to?”

Luciya withdrew her face from your hair, and with a bright smile of her own, nodded enthusiastically.

Given the hour, and the fact that it was such fair weather, there was only one place Harwin and your sons were likely to be. The clanging of clashing steel confirmed your suspicions the closer you drew to the training yard.

The yard was filled with various men, almost all donned in training armor or yielding blunted weapons of some sort. A large portion of them were gathered in the middle, watching with intrigue as two individuals who you couldn’t see just yet sparred with one another.

Much closer to you and Luciya, you spotted Derrik.

If Derrik looked like Harwin as a boy, it was even more apparent now that he was a young man. His curls had become less wild with age, but they were still present. He was broad shouldered, and though he was still young, you knew he could make a formidable opponent, if he ever needed to be. He was well trained with a sword, as Harwin and Highgarden’s master at arms had seen to that. When Derrik was not training with weaponry, Derrik and his tutors had exercised his mind with just as much fervor. He studied a great many subjects- history, philosophy, languages- and he enjoyed them all.

In another life, perhaps Derrik might have sought to become a maester. In your opinion, he had demonstrated the patience, wit, and motivation that would suggest success in such an endeavor. His grandsire, Lord Lyonel, had once chosen that path. As Harwin once told you, your Good Father had managed to forge six links on his chain before the death of his older brother forced him to abandon the pursuit for the sake of the Strong family. Similarly, as Derrik stood to inherit a great holding of his own one day, that fate of a maester was not his to claim.

Derrik was perfectly well rounded, as a wise young lord ought to be, and, though he was occasionally stubborn, he was wise beyond his years. You and Harwin couldn’t have been any prouder of him.

Your eldest son was tight lipped as he nocked an arrow and pulled back the string of a bow. Ser Corbus Crane, Highgarden’s master at arms, watched him diligently.

The arrow soared through the air and struck the target…. But a fair way down from the center. In fact, it was nothing short of a miracle the arrow had managed to strike the target at all.

With Harwin and Ser Corbus’ oversight, Derrik had become a decent swordsman for his age. But as of late, Derrik had developed a more serious interest in cultivating skill with a bow as well. This pleased you; not only had you been taught to shoot from a young age, but your father and brother had been as well. Seeing your eldest son take an interest in upholding the Tyrell family tradition gave you joy.

“Straighten your bow arm,” you instructed him, giving Derrik a small start as he had yet to realize your presence. “And hold firm. You are losing some of the tension halfway through your draw.”

“I advised him of the same, My Lady,” Ser Corbus chimed in.

You gave the man an apologetic look.

Derrik gave you an understanding nod. With a small sigh, he nocked a second arrow and drew back the string. This time, he adhered to the advice of both you and his tutor.

The arrow struck the target just shy of the center. Luciya clapped enthusiastically, causing her older brother to shoot her a grin.

“Perhaps you should listen to the advice of Ser Corbus more often,” you suggested purposefully to Derrik, though you were unable to completely conceal the pleased smile on your lips.

Derrik bowed his head in mild embarrassment. “Yes, Mother. My apologies, Ser Corbus.”

“There is nothing to forgive, My Lord. But, My Lady- I think the young lord could benefit from some additional motivation,” Ser Corbus proposed, looking at you knowingly. “Mayhaps you join us sometime, My Lady? Shooting round for round with Lord Derrik here may do wonders to encourage the lad to sharpen his aim.”

Embarrassment fled Derrik’s face, and instead, he looked downright amused at the proposal. In truth, the idea appealed to you as well.

“I suppose I can spare some time in the name of improving my son’s learning, though it may be a few days before I am able to accommodate that request,” you agreed heartily. You glanced about the training yard, before turning to Derrik and inquiring, “Where are your father and brother?”

“Yield! I yield!”

Your attention was drawn back to the middle of the training yard as the exasperated exclamation rang out. The men who had gathered there muttered amongst themselves, while several others clapped at the display. Eventually, they dispersed one by one, revealing none other than Harwin and Selwin as those who had been sparring in the middle of them all.

Selwin was on his knees, his training sword having been knocked aside. Harwin tossed down his own blunted sword to the dirt before extending his youngest son a helping hand.

Once Selwin was on his feet, Harwin patted him on the back reassuringly. “You held your own for longer than I thought you would, lad.”

Selwin allowed a small smile to slip at his father’s praise, though he looked a bit hesitant to immediately accept it. “Truly?”

Selwin looked every bit like the men of House Tyrell, save Harwin’s hazel eyes. He was tall, just as tall as Derrik actually, and lithe. Despite lacking the same broadness as his father and older brother, Selwin was still dangerous with a sword in his own right, and even at his young age. He had never come to share the same love of learning as Derrik, not by any means. That was a bit unfortunate… You and Harwin would have loved for your son to squire with another lord or knight of high regard, but as Selwin was to inherit either Harrenhal or Highgarden one day, such a luxury could not be afforded. Thankfully, Selwin was understanding of this, and he had continued with his lessons dutifully, despite his lack of enthusiasm for them. However, true light only ever seemed to shine in Selwin’s eyes when training in the yard, riding throughout the grounds on horseback, or exploring along the riverbanks of the Mander.

Selwin was charming too, at festivals and parties alike. He could make conversation just as easily with those many years his senior as he could with the youngest of children. His sweetness from his childhood had carried over to his teenage years, something you were grateful for, and he seldom had an unkind word to offer to or about anyone… unless someone ignited that infamous temper he had inherited from Harwin, that was.

Though he still got along with his older brother, Selwin was not very much like Derrik at all. But you and Harwin were still just as proud of him too.

“Now, Dearest, is it wise to ‘rough up’ our youngest son in such a manner?” you called over to them teasingly.

At the sound of your voice, both Harwin and Selwin looked over as you approached them. The pure love and warmth in Harwin’s eyes as they fell on you never failed to make your heart skip a beat, even after all these years.

“I am afraid you are mistaken, My Love,” Harwin disclaimed politely, taking a step towards you to meet you half-way. “It was our son who was giving me the go of it… for a little while there, at least.”

You pursed your lips and fought off the urge to continue the playful bickering. Upon seeing her father, Luciya reached out to Harwin with grabbing hands. He smiled and immediately lifted her from your arms. You let him do so willingly.

“Selwin, we should be on our way soon,” Derrik called over from across the yard as he handed his bow over to Ser Corbus. “Maester Thomos will be cross with us if we are late for our accounting lessons again.”

“Now, we wouldn’t want that,” you commented, looking back at Selwin.

Your youngest son looked about as excited at the idea of an hour of accounting lessons as you would have expected him to be. However, you all knew that if Selwin was to be a lord with a keep of his own one day, an understanding of finances could only be beneficial.

You tilted your head along encouragingly to him. “Go on, now.”

Selwin still looked less than thrilled, but with a nod to you and Harwin, set out across the courtyard to join his elder brother. You watched the pair of them meet up and head out of the training yard altogether before you finally turned back to Harwin.

“Now, Sweet Girl,” Harwin said, readjusting his hold on Luciya and lifting her so that their matching eyes were level. “Not that I am upset by it, but what might you and your mother be doing out here?”

“As I believe Bryna put it, our daughter was acting ‘finicky’ this morning,” you relayed, taking a step closer to them. You ran a light hand over Luciya’s back soothingly.

Harwin frowned at you, feigning shock. He demanded, “Who? This Sweet Girl?”

Luciya smiled at him; the sight was a perfect mirror of Harwin’s own.

Harwin declared firmly, “Another mistake must have been made, Lady Wife. For it could not have been this little lass.” While Luciya was mesmerized by her father’s animated speech, she had failed to notice his spare hand mischievously reaching up. She was sent into a brief fit of giggles as Harwin’s fingers danced across her ribs. “Our daughter is not even capable of being anything less than content, I can assure you.”

You hummed in slight protest, but played along anyway. “But of course not, my Lord Husband. Our daughter is perfectly well behaved, always.”

“Good,” Harwin huffed half-seriously, dropping his hand and allowing Luciya a moment to catch her breath. Then, he placed a quick kiss on her cheek, earning yet another giggle from her. “I am glad we are of the same mind on this matter, My Lady.”

You rolled your eyes good naturedly.

Harwin made a show of surveying the training yard, before looking back at your daughter. “Now that your brothers are gone,” he began, speaking so softly that only you and Luciya were likely to hear him, “Shall we venture down to the kitchens? I heard they brought in several baskets of fresh fireplums this morning…”

Luciya’s eyes lit up at the mere mention of her favorite sweet.

“Harwin!” you scolded him half-heartedly. “‘Tis not yet midday. That would hardly be appropriate.”

“Fireplums?” Lucyia echoed, glancing between you and Harwin with a questioning look and a small, but undeniable, pout forming on her lips.

“It would be a shame to break her heart, My Love,” Harwin acknowledged pointedly, giving you a similar pouting look. You wanted to curse; your husband knew exactly what he was doing.

You tried to hold steadfast, you really did, but between the pleading look from your daughter and Harwin, the battle was a lost cause. Sighing defeatedly, you agreed, “Let us go find some fireplums, Sweetling.”

Luciya clapped gleefully. Smirking victoriously, Harwin put his free hand on the small of your back to guide you as the three of you left the training yard in search of a tasty late morning snack.

After a particularly tasty and fulfilling dinner, the soft crackling of the fire was nearly enough to lull Harwin to sleep.

Still, he trudged on.

As Harwin sat at his designated desk in your joint study, his hands began to ache with each letter penned upon the parchment before him, and his fingers began to tremble on the quill in his grip from sheer fatigue. Seeking a quick distraction, his eyes rose and flitted across the room, over towards the fireplace.

It took you and Harwin a significant amount of time to be comfortable with the ideas of open fires following the fire at Harrenhal years ago. Even now, neither you nor Harwin were comfortable with fires being fueled or stroked any further than what was necessary to keep the flames alive. But the season was beginning to change once more; the pleasant heat of the day had begun to give way to the chilly air at night, which left neither of you with much of a choice in the matter.

Fire was a necessary evil, Harwin thought to himself bitterly.

The firefly pin still rested on the upper left corner of his desk, where it had sat for the last several years.

You had presented it to him the morning after the fire at Harrenhal. A suspicious man, who had been apprehended sometime in the night, and dead by his own hand come the morning, had had it pinned to his cloak. You had sworn to the gods that the firefly pin looked familiar, and Harwin was inclined to agree. He had seen something extremely similar to it as well… somewhere. Harwin knew that to be as true as he knew his own name. But, for the life of him, Harwin couldn’t place where he had seen it before.

It was extremely suspicious, and Harwin was left with more questions than answers.

How had the fire started? Was it truly an accident, or was there a darker reason behind it? There were only so many things one could attribute to being a part of some dreaded curse… But if the fire had been intentional, who would have had the motive to orchestrate such a terrible act?

Lord Lyonel was a man who did not have a single enemy, at least not any that Harwin knew of. His father was a good natured, if plainly honest, man. And while you and Harwin had inadvertently made yourselves targets within the Red Keep due to your relations with Princess Rhaenyra, Harwin doubted that the reach of the vipers within would be able extend to that of his home, Harrenhal. And he doubted even more the capability of a mother, though a Queen she may be, to knowingly conspire to murder your children.

For a time, the unwavering need Harwin felt to deliver justice on behalf of his father had all but consumed him. A man driven nearly mad, he ceaselessly sought explanation to questions that may never be answered, due to the sheer nature of the event. He had questioned countless people, and had probably dolled out a few too many undeserved threats.

His sisters were quick to dismiss the entire thing as an unfortunate, though coincidental tragedy. Even Larys, through the letters by raven, suggested it was an accident. With the various new construction projects, as well as the simple fact that Harrenhal had burned once before, he argued it was not too difficult to imagine that someone mishandling a torch, or some fallen spark from a bedroom flame, could have quickly set the tower ablaze.

Harwin had even asked your opinion on the matter. He could tell you had been reluctant to say anything that might encourage his incessant inquisition, but still, you conceded that, despite the many reasons one could argue the fire truly was an accident, you were more hesitant than his siblings to declare it as such.

It was only the love he bore for you and your sons that had pulled Harwin back from the brink of instability. And Harwin did not care to know the version of himself he’d been during the weeks following the passing of his father ever again.

Finally tearing his eyes away, Harwin looked over to the side of the room next, and immediately noticed that you too had taken a break from your own writing to stare into the flickering flames. As you sat at your own desk, which was positioned adjacent to his own, Harwin watched you contentedly, and he bit the inside of his cheek to contain his smile.

You looked just as tired as he felt, but there was an overwhelming warmth that flooded his heart every time he laid eyes upon you, no matter what state you were in. The feeling had not given way to time, despite over fifteen years of marriage. Harwin hoped it never would.

But, as if you felt his eyes on you, you suddenly regained focus, and slowly swiveled your head to glance over at him. Unrelenting, Harwin offered you a small, coy smile. He was not embarrassed to have been caught staring at you, not at all. Why be embarrassed that he was married to the most gorgeous, intelligent, brave, and enchanting woman in the whole realm? Rather, Harwin couldn’t help but feel humbled, and, truthfully, a little bit satisfied with himself that you had attempted to steal a glance at him.

You returned his smile easily, the gesture looking completely love-stricken. Harwin did not know if it was even possible for the love you felt for him to run deeper than the love he felt for you, but he did not doubt your intentions, nor your willingness to try.

After a moment, your focus returned to your own letter that you were in the midst of writing.

Not a day went by that Harwin didn’t find himself thanking the gods for your shining presence in his life. As far as he was concerned, every moment spent with you was time well spent. However, quiet evenings like this had come to be some of Harwin’s favorite opportunities, and he looked forward to and relished every moment he could.

Thankfully, most evenings seemed to progress the same as of late. After dinner, it was typical that Derrik and Selwin would excuse themselves to partake in whatever hobbies pleased them before retiring for the evening, whilst Nanny Bryna would offer to put Luciya to bed. It created a perfect opportunity for the two of you to relax and unwind from the day together, and catch up on any correspondence or other business that needed tending to.

It was no secret, nor did Harwin try to disguise it as such, that hours of writing business correspondence, drafting agreements, and maintaining general communication with his steward in Harrenhal, Lord Dannis of House Chambers, was one of Harwin’s least favorite aspects about having inherited his family lordship. In fact, it was probably the second worst aspect about the whole inheritance, with the first having been the loss of his father.

Harwin supposed he could have let Lord Dannis carry out his duties for him... Dannis, the uncle of the current Lord of House Chambers, Everan, was experienced, and had served Lord Lyonel faithfully for many years. But Harwin could not bring himself to sully the memory of his father by letting the knowledge he had been able to impart on him before his ultimately passing go to waste. And, given that Harwin and your family had not had even a semi-permanent residence at Harrenhal since that dreadful fire, maintaining his lordship through communication with Lord Dannis was his only option. The memory of the fire was still so haunting for each of you… no one was likely to return to Harrenhal for some time yet.

…

All personal qualms about the tedious writing aside, Harwin would never vocalize discontent with spending your evenings in the shared study. You would have confined yourself to the room for several hours anyways, as was what you deemed necessary to keep up with your own family duties… But it was clear to each of you that the evenings were far more tolerable when you shared them with each other.

Harwin’s eyes continued to linger over you as a look of concentration crept over your face. The feather of the quill in your hand flickered with your sharp and precise movements. He felt his chest warm with pride. For someone who had not been raised to inherit Highgarden, or taught how to properly manage the responsibilities that came along with such a claim, you certainly did not show it. You had taken nearly every letter, audience, charitable work, and all other duties in stride. Harwin was almost, almost, envious of how natural it all came to you… But he always felt more pride than anything else.

… And, Harwin had to admit that seeing you, his beloved wife, hold such a commanding position of power was very entrancing.

Harwin was pulled from his thoughts by the sounds of rustling fabric coming from the sofa on the other side of the room. His eyes followed his ears, and the smile on his face shifted from one of flirtatious amusement to one of great fondness.

Of course, there were some nights when you and Harwin were not truly alone in your study.

Luciya was snuggled into the plush cushions of the sofa quite happily, her curls splayed about the pillow beneath her head without care. As soft snores slipped from her mouth, it was evident that she was blissfully unaware of anything else going on in the room. As far as you and Harwin were concerned, you were content to keep it that way. The gods had gifted you both with Derrik and Selwin, who brought honor upon your houses in their own ways. But Harwin was inclined to believe that the pair of you had been truly blessed with the addition of your daughter.

Abrupt, though gentle, knocks sounded on the door.

You bid the individual on the other side to enter in a soft tone, so as to not disturb Luciya.

The door opened slowly, and in strolled Lord Elwood Meadows.

The brother of your late mother had served your father and brother dutifully as Steward of Highgarden. Whilst serving you, his performance had been no less exemplary. In fact, the more the Lord Elwood aged, the more dedicated he became to his duties as Steward. Lord Elwood was practically the Lord of House Meadows in name only; his eldest son, and your cousin, Lord Theo, had been ruling over the family seat of Grassfield Keep in his father’s absence for quite some time.

As Lord Elwood came to a stop, his attention naturally shot over towards the sofa first. He visibly fought the urge to smile upon the sight of his sleeping grand niece. Then, he looked between the pair of you with purpose. “It would seem as though Lady Luciya has exhausted herself for the day… Mayhaps it has something to do with the fireplums that have reportedly disappeared from the kitchens?”

You and Harwin gleaned at each other knowingly at your uncle’s suggestion. Amusement was written over both of your faces.

Then, Lord Elwood offered, “Shall I call for Bryna, My Lady?”

“Thank you, Uncle, but that will not be necessary,” you assured him, resting your quill in the nearby ink pot. “We are to retire soon.”

“Very well, My Lady… Well, my apologies for the lateness of the hour, but Maester Thomos informed me that two ravens have arrived since dinner. And, since you have yet to retire, I thought you might care to receive the messages.”

“You thought correctly, Uncle. Thank you for bringing them to us at once.”

Lord Elwood crossed the room and deposited the small scrolls in your hand. With one more charmed glance at Luciya, he nodded to the both of you staunchly and exited the study. The door shut softly behind him.

Harwin watched you with interest as you glanced at the seals of each of the scrolls in your hand. You rose from your seat and strolled over to him, handing him one of the scrolls wordlessly.

The seal on the scroll was one Harwin recognized well.

Malvales.

The sigil that Harwin’s brother, Larys, had taken for his own since having been appointed as Master of Whisperers was an easily identifiable one. Harwin broke the seal without a thought and opened the scroll, reading the words upon the parchment promptly.

As Harwin read line by line, you gently sat on his lap. Undeterred by your actions, Harwin’s focus continued to be on the letter in his hand, but his spare arm came up to wrap around your waist, steadying and holding you close. You made yourself comfortable, and then broke open the seal of the second letter to begin reading as well. For a few quiet moments, nothing but the crackling fire and the snores from Luciya could be heard in the room.

But then, you sighed.

Harwin had just finished reading. He looked up at you worriedly, noting the seal still clinging to the one edge of the parchment. It was another one that he also recognized well.

Grapes.

There were very few individuals who used that seal that would have written to you with kind intentions.

He inquired, “From the Arbor?... Is all well?”

You nodded in response to his query, though your eyes never drifted from the letter in your hand. “Yes, it is only from my aunt… She has written to inform me that her granddaughter, Celesse, is traveling to King’s Landing. It seems that she, along with her cousin, Joanna Lannister, are to be taken in by the royal household as ladies in waiting for Princess Helaena.”

Harwin watched you carefully for a moment, waiting to see if you would say anything further that would indicate your opinion of the news. When you said nothing, he noted offhandedly in a light tone, “Dangerous place, is it not? For two unescorted ladies to roam about, all while serving a princess of the realm?”

Harwin’s teasing to what was once your own circumstance did not go over your head, and you looked at him with mock offense. “It is truly a preposterous notion, isn’t it? Young ladies and a Princess, eating, singing, dancing, and otherwise passing the time until they catch the attention of a suitor? The horror.”

“There are some strange men among the Red Keep, My Lady.”

You hummed. “I’ve met a few of them… In fact, there was this one-”

Harwin rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath, “Oh no-”

“I heard that he could pull a fully occupied carriage all by himself,” you recounted dramatically. “I also heard that he once single-handedly closed the courtyard doors of the Red Keep when the chains had broken-”

“Now those are truly ‘preposterous’ notions, My Love. Complete fabrications of-”

“And, do you know what they called him? This infamous man?”

Harwin pursed his lips. You merely smiled at him, clearly amused by your own theatrics.

“... Breakbones?”

“No,” You scoffed, and reached for him, lightly cupping the side of his face closest to you. Softly, you corrected, “They called him my husband.”

Harwin bit the inside of his cheek once more. Even as a young man, when pretty women of all sorts started to pay him mind, he had never, ever considered himself one who was capable of blushing. Or one to be unnerved by the presence and words of any woman.

But you were not just any woman. You held his heart, confidence, and happiness all in the palms of your hands.

You placed a brief, though undeniably sweet, kiss upon his lips. When you withdrew from him a few seconds later, Harwin immediately found himself wishing you had not.

“But do not fret, Dearest,” you assured him, swiftly returning to the original topic as you lowered your hand from his face. “If Lady Celesse is even half as conniving as her father, I am sure she will fare in the capital just fine.”

Your cousin, Garrett Redwyne, once a second son, was now Lord of the Arbor. A few years past, the Stranger visited your family again. In one swoop, fever had claimed your uncle by marriage, Lord Gilbar, and your other cousin, Jeran, Garrett’s older brother. Jeran, foolishly, had never married, nor sired any legitimate heirs of his own by the time of his death. Unfortunately, that meant that the family seat passed on to his younger brother.

Harwin knew that the turn of events did not sit right with you. And frankly, things did not sit well with him either. It did not seem fair for someone who had so cruelly tried to prey upon a young woman in grief and steal her family’s birthright to then be rewarded with a title and holding of his own. Like you, Garrett had not been born to inherit the family lordship… But the gods had deemed it so, just the same.

And yet… Harwin dared to venture that there was another matter about your cousin that upset you even more. Not even a year after your brother’s passing, Garrett had taken a woman to wife- one Cerelle Lannister. Harwin could tell from the short time you had spent with the young woman in King’s Landing, you had enjoyed her presence. At the time of Derron’s death, his betrothal to Lady Cerelle had been imminent.

Not only did Lord Garrett become Lord of the Arbor, but he had also wed the woman who, in another life, might have been your Good Sister.

“What does your brother say?” you asked him then, discarding your scroll upon his desk.

“The usual,” Harwin answered at once, happy to see you had opted not to dwell on the thought of your cousin. “He has inquired about the state of the family, and as to how the children are.”

“That is kind of him,” you acknowledged sincerely. “I would suggest you write back to him and extend an invitation for him to visit and see the children for himself… But I believe we both know what his response would be.”

A regretful declination.

Not but a week after the fire at Harrenhal, Larys had been appointed to King Viserys’ small council as Master of Whisperers. It was an honorable appointment, but the position occupied so much of Larys’ time that, while Harwin, you, your sons, Lilyan, Eyla, and their families gathered at Harrenhal to lay Lord Lyonel to rest, Larys had been bound to King’s Landing by his duties… At least, that was the reason he cited in a letter to Harwin. Harwin suspected Larys’ failure to attend might have also had something to do with his brother’s feelings about the passing of their father. Different sorts of people grieved in different ways, and Larys had always been a bit of an outlier. But Harwin loved his brother, and did not beseech him for his decision. Even if his absence was greatly felt at the funeral.

“My brother’s duties keep him confined to the Red Keep, My Love,” Harwin reminded you. His arm around your waist tightened, holding you closer to him. Harwin pressed a light, nearly teasing kiss on the back of your neck. He smirked to himself as you shook off a small shiver in response. “Just as our duties keep us bound to Highgarden.”

At this, you stiffened in Harwin’s hold. “That reminds me,” you began, rising from his lap, though not without Harwin making a half-hearted attempt to keep you restrained as you were. “There is something else I wished to speak with you about.”

At the seriousness of your tone, the playful smirk fell from Harwin’s lips. “What is it?”

You hesitated. “These were not the only ravens we received today… There was a third. I received the letter this morning.”

Harwin picked up on your hesitation immediately. He coaxed encouragingly, “Whatever the burden is, share it with me. Who sent it?”

You said nothing, and instead reached into the pocket of your skirt. The third scroll was withdrawn from the fabric with a natural flourish. Harwin took it from your extended hand curiously, and opened it at once.

As he began to read the letter- one that he quickly realized was from Princess Rhaenyra, no less- he glanced over at you out of the corner of his eyes on the occasion. As he devoured line by line, you began to pace nearby.

Once Harwin was done reading, he understood why you appeared so visibly nervous.

“Well?”

Harwin contemplated his next words with significant caution. “‘Tis an… interesting offer, I suppose. What do you make of it?”

“It would not be King’s Landing, but it would be close.”

Dragonstone was a lot closer to the capital than Highgarden was. Too close for Harwin’s liking.

“We left King’s Landing for a reason, My Love,” he reminded you patiently. “The gossip, the rumors? Our- my- presence threatened Princess Rhaenyra’s credibility, and it put all of us in danger.”

“I recall all of that, as you know.”

You spoke the truth, Harwin had no doubt of that. But the thought of what might have happened to you, or your children, had your family stayed in the capital, still troubled him deeply. His father had alluded to you, Derrick, and Selwin being taken away by the headsman. Harwin would rather fall upon his own sword than risk that nightmare becoming a reality.

“I cannot put you, or the children, in danger,” Harwin told you firmly. “I would never dream of commanding you, or declaring what you may or may not do. But I must protest at the idea of endangering you all for the mere sake of a social visit.”

“I know, Dearest,” you promised, your tone lightening at the growing traces of distress you detected within his words. “I know you would not have us put ourselves in danger. And I would not have you put yourself in danger, either… Neither would Princess Rhaenyra.”

Harwin got the funny sense that you were not finished with your thoughts. “... But?”

“But,” you continued, confirming his suspicions, “if the Princess knows of the… delicacy, of our situation, it makes me question why she has extended the invitation at this particular time. After all, though we frequently exchanged letters, it has been years since we have all seen one another.”

None of you had seen the Princess, or her sons, since you fled King’s Landing prior to your return to Harrenhal. And Harwin had to admit, the timing of the invitation was a bit peculiar. Why now?

“I have my suspicions as to why Princess Rhaenyra decided that now is an appropriate time,” you confessed then. “I still have some connections to those who frequent the Red Keep. The rumors report that the King is weak, Harwin. Very weak. They say he could pass any day now… And I suspect Princess Rhaenyra has heard the same.”

…

Damn.

Harwin could think of many, many reasons as to why accepting Princess Rhaenyra’s invitation would not be wise. Reasons that he was certain you could easily deduce as well. However, he would have had to be cruel to outright reject the offer, when he knew that accepting it may mean bringing some comfort to an old friend. You still considered Princess Rhaenyra as your oldest and most trusted companion. Besides the fact that she was to be Queen one day, Harwin held her in very high regard as well, and was also fortunate enough to call her a friend. Gods, years ago, he had loved Princess Rhaenyra’s sons as though they were his own… And perhaps part of him still did.

Both you and Harwin had lost your own fathers, whom you loved greatly. How could Harwin make any serious arguments for declining Princess Rhaenyra’s invitation, when accepting it would allow the both of you to offer her comfort in this trying time?

…

But King Viserys, gods be good, was not gone from this world yet. And the Hightowers still had sizable control over the Red Keep and its inhabitants. The thought of being so near King’s Landing still made Harwin wary.

And the thought of leaving Highgarden at all made him greatly uneasy.

As if you could read Harwin’s rapidly racing thoughts, you ran a light hand through his curls. Despite his worry, Harwin leaned into the familiar and comforting touch.

“I understand your fears, Dearest,” you assured him softly, but sincerely. “And I share them as well. But we cannot stay here for the rest of our days. Highgarden may be a refuge, yes… But it was never meant to be a place of solitude. There is an entire realm outside of these walls, and many others whom we have loyalties to.”

Harwin, who had closed his eyes at your gentle ministrations, opened them once more. There was no need for him to verbally admit your assumption was correct. You had seen right through him, as you almost always did.

Since the fire at Harrenhal, the pair of you had created a peaceful life for yourselves in Highgarden. Within the castle walls, you, Harwin, Derrik, Selwin, and now Luciya, were safe. For years, it had seemed as though no evil could touch you here.

Highgarden was a solace.

… And while Harwin wanted so desperately to keep that solace, and protect you all, he was not a fool. He knew that such a blissful dream, no matter how wonderful it was, could not be sustained indefinitely. You were right- the two of you owed allegiance to others who did not reside in your ancestral home. Besides King Viserys, the most important of these allegiances was the one to Princess Rhaenyra.

Harwin sighed, and rose to his feet. He felt your eyes on him with every step as he walked across the room and over towards the sofa. When he reached it, he leaned down, gently took Luciya into his arms, and sat upon the cushions where she had been snoozing away a moment before. Not deterred in the slightest, Luciya continued to sleep while she subconsciously shifted around to make herself comfortable in her father’s arms.

You were quick to follow, and took a seat beside him. You tucked yourself into his side calmly. When you were settled, Harwin tilted his head to rest upon yours.

For a few moments, the two of you silently watched your daughter, with Luciya resting her head on Harwin’s one shoulder, and you resting your head on the other.

He remembered how scared he was when Luciya was born. With Derrik and Selwin, he’d been nervous with the idea of parenthood… But they were his sons. Harwin had been able to take some comfort in the knowledge that he could raise them with a similar loving upbringing that he had experienced as a child. Studying with maesters, training in the yard with the master at arms… He had an understanding of what Derrik and Selwin would face.

But a daughter? That was a completely different and uncharted territory. Harwin had sisters, and nieces now as well, but nothing compared to this. Harwin had not been prepared to have his heart shared by two women, but that is what had come to transpire. Thankfully, Luicya had been merciful to him in this regard- she had only ever asked for attention, and love. Things Harwin was more than willing to give her, and in plentiful amounts at that.

Harwin wanted to give your daughter the world.

… Which, in a queer way, may have meant that she ought to actually see some of it.

A hazy vision of Luciya on a sandy shore flashed across his mind. The sound of her laughter ringing out amongst the crowing of seagulls rang faintly in his ears.

Harwin pressed a kiss to the top of Luciya’s head. “... She will enjoy the sea, I think.”

You lifted your head off his shoulder slowly, and looked at him with wide and slightly watery eyes as you realized the deeper implication behind his simple words.

To Dragonstone.

After a swift kiss to Harwin’s cheek, you placed your hand on Luciya’s back, your fingers brushed against Harwin’s as you did so. “She will. And Derrik and Selwin will enjoy seeing the Princes again.”

“The Princes,” Harwin echoed blankly. “Gods, it has been so long… They must be nearly men by now.”

You smirked. “As are our sons, Harwin.”

Would Jacaerys and Lucerys even recall him? Harwin hoped so. Despite the passage of time, he still harbored a fondness for them. And he would have been lying if he denied worrying about them over the years. Despite his faults, losing Ser Laenor in such a tragic way, only to have the role of a father filled promptly- almost too promptly- by the likes of Prince Daemon Targaryen?

That would have been a rotten lot for anyone, let alone young boys whose fates were already precariously hanging on with little more than the unyielding love from their royal grandsire.

… But the more Harwin thought about that, the more quickly he was coming around to the idea of visiting Dragonstone. Having spent a decent amount of time in one another’s presence during their time serving the City Watch, Harwin had seen sides of the Rogue Prince he could only hope that the young Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys had not yet heard of. While Harwin may have had his own opinions about how he approached fatherhood, he would never deny that Ser Laenor Velaryon was an honorable man, even if it was in his own way. On the other hand, Harwin was not sure Prince Daemon even knew the meaning of the word.

The idea of the young Princes following after the likes of their now stepfather bothered Harwin. They were older now, and though not yet fully grown men, they were indisputably no longer children… But perhaps it was not so late that Harwin could offer himself as an alternative fatherly figure?

If the Princes even still wanted to view him as such, that was.

But, once again, you soothed his worries with your calming words.

“I am certain that the Princes will be pleased to see you too, Dearest.”

Luciya yawned in her sleep, breaking the tension of your conversation. A light laugh escaped both of you.

Then, Harwin reaffirmed, “If the Princess requests our family’s presence on Dragonstone, she shall have it.”

There was a strange feeling in the air… a sense that the lives of your family were about to change in a dramatic fashion.

If only the two of you had known then just how drastic the changes were going to be.

“I will write back to Princess Rhaenyra with our answer,” you informed Harwin. “But I daresay that can wait ‘til the morrow.”

Harwin rose to his feet, and you followed suit. However, he must not have done as well of a job concealing any lingering concern as he had hoped to. As he took a step towards the door to leave, you reached out, and placed a hand on his arm, halting him.

“Everything will be alright, Dearest.”

Harwin gave you a small smile, feeling peculiarly bittersweet. “I know, My Love. Highgarden has been a refuge… But I know I will find solace wherever I am, so long as I am with you.”

A/N: Poor, naive Harwin. Bless him.🖤 He just wants to see the good in his brother, y’all. I’m sure that definitely won’t come back to bite him in the future or anything-

Thank you for reading!🖤 Next part will probably be at least a 2 parter again, but it may even be a 3 parter, depending on how long it ends up being and what plot points I choose to include in it.

But before then, I’m going to try and see if I can put together a couple little headcanons/blurbs later this week, so if that’s something you’re interested in, keep an eye out for those😊 I definitely want to take a crack at more headcanons of Harwin with the kiddos, but also running the Reach and just general married life with Harwin, so we’ll see what happens.

188 notes · View notes

destinedtobeloved · 6 months

Text

Now that I’ve finished Altered Carbon, I think it would be fun to share one of my notes from my notes app that I’ve been writing on since I’ve started it. I’ve cried a lot about this book, and everything I’ve ever left behind has claw marks.

This book definitely has claw marks.

It includes all of my favorite moments and parts of the book down below :)

Things I love about book Kovacs

- he’s trying to quit smoking

- His hallucinations are of Jimmy and Virginia Vadura

- Him and Ortega don’t actually hate eachother that much in the beginning

- At first Takeshi doesn’t actually hate Bancroft either

- He’s genuinely confused about earth terms

- He was mad that at the Wei clinic they didn’t give him back his watch or his bandana, simply because he just bought it and he’d liked the watch

- He likes shopping

- He likes fruit juice???

- Gaslit Umou into being late to Psychasec because he needed to eat breakfast

- He deals with hangovers like a champ

- Started smoking in the construct once he remembered it had no real consequences in the real

- Understands female complexity/differences between male and female

- Knows how to handle gentle situations most of the time (victor talking about his daughter, Kristen talking about Ryker.)

- Quotes poetry from Quell

- Also enjoys poetry (ex; the carving on the bench at the faculty when he’s waiting for the doctor.)

- Slept for twenty hours after the Wei clinic??

- His emotion (though i do miss the scene where he’s drugged up outside of the raven talking to Quell. ‘250 years is long enough. It’s time to move on.’ ‘Never. You hear me? Never.’)

- His love for Sarah

- His attempts at smiling

- His explanation of personality frag!!!!

- Chapter 20 as a whole is so amazing (talking about Ryker- him and Curtis, bla bla bla, mostly just Elias and Kristen stuff.)

- Ramen just awakens something in him

- Actually very good at telling children’s stories to Ortega (like a dad.)

- Good at cracking jokes

- His interaction with the little girl in the second page of chapter 25???!?? (He shoots her with a little finger gun when he realizes she’s looking at him expectantly after seeing his weapon.)

- After the whole blown up building Kadmni thing (‘that’s fucking enough!’) he smokes because he just decides it’s not worth it

- Him and Trepp playing card games on the airship that Trepp had taught him

- He literally reaches for his Nemex every three seconds istg

- Remaining ‘innocent at the core’ -reileen

- Apparently having a very deep very drugged convo about cats in chapter 26

- Kovacs is a MUNCH

- Repeats the same Virginia Vidora quote over again. ‘We take what is offered. And sometimes, that must be enough.’

- Reileen always starting off her talks with him in Japanese because she thinks it unites them in a way

- Had to stop himself from calling reileen ray

- He actually DOES genuinely smile (ex; when Irene is exited about the limo)

- ‘I’m a sucker for family reunions.’ HE ACTUALLY DOES CARE (maybe it’s because him and Sarah never got to have one after he was taken out of the store.)

- Sleeping in the car (limo) so Irene can get laid

- The guilt/itchiness he has after relapsing into smoking

- Him and Trepp are actually friends and she insists that they go party, drink coffee, play card games together, ect.

- Considers trepp not getting into the envoys a ‘Lucky escape’

- Trepp n Kovacs playful teasing

- He missed Ortega when she left the Hendrix and didn’t come back. ‘I missed Ortega.’ Page 356

- Bancroft saying he’d been around for the RD’s of two of his children. (Going out of order back to the beginning)

- Doesn’t bullshit. Didn’t tell Irene it would pass when she was feeling hurt after being resleeved.

- It was nerve wracking to him to watch Irene code

- Reileen and Miriam slept together??

- Takeshis urge to be cruel

- Got anyoyed when Miller was tapping on the table and just flatted out his hand LMFAO

- When he heard he got a call he immediately asked if it was Ortega.

- Literally seconds before he’s about to get beat to death in the Panamrose he thinks about how bored he is

- Still, right before he about to die, he thinks about Ortega and calls her a ‘pocket of calm’

- He’s ready to die, not awfully upset about it because he knows Kristen has enough information to get Reileen and also because he knows Sarah will be released

- Trepp saves him in the Panama rose

- He talks to his dad mid fight after not hearing him forever. Before he killed Kadmin (calling him the ‘patchwork man’) he asks if he wants to say anything.

- He’s afraid to alter his virtual self because he thinks it’s not far away from what reileen and Bancroft do

- Sits on a forklift after the fight thinking. He’s weirdly soft.

- Claims that nothing hurt more then the realization that this would be his and Ortegas last moments together

- Held hands with her too

- Would’ve given anything to not have to dissolve what was growing between them.

- He loves her more in the book than he did in the show (and it’s making me sob.)

- He literally is arguing with himself when he is double sleeved

- He almost killed someone at 16 because he looked like his dad

- Also wanted to help the Elliot’s because of his family and his mom who was like Lizzy

- Absolutely does not want to talk about his past and his father/family

- Planning to get drunk because he doesn’t want to talk to himself sober

- Disappointed with his copy for smoking

- Takeshi fter the microsurgery is down at the lake with a little girl who seemed to ‘adopt him’

- He’s actually kind of heartbroken when him and Kristen’s relationship changes after he is resleeved.

- Makes his day that he can still make Ortega laugh before he convinces her to get him some stiff because he thought their dynamic was weird afterwards

- Before he and Reileen fall to their deaths he says, ‘When they ask how I died,' I said, 'tell them: still angry’ as well as ‘that’s fucking enough’

- Once his clone lost to rock paper scissors and was set to die, he asks if he wants him to tell Jimmy anything. I sobbed.

- Kept accidentally talking about Reileen in present terms after she died.

- He gave money to Irene once he’s about to leave for Lizzy. (‘I want there to be something clean at the end of all this, something I can feel good about.’)

- He held Irene after that.

- He attempts to laugh with Ortega before he goes

- His quote saying that no matter what you always leave alone. (‘Whatever world it is, whatever you've done there for better or worse, you always leave the same way. Alone.’)

- His last wishes are for Kristen to get Ryker to stop smoking once he’s out of the store

#altered carbon #joel kinnaman #Takeshi Kovacs #reileen kawahara #kristen ortega #Elias Ryker #Richard Morgan #books #books and reading #books and literature #bookshelf #reading books #emotional damage after this #post-read #book review #writer #once again #like I say in every post about this book #book takeshi gets a 10/10 for me

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whumpsday · 2 years

Text

Kane & Jim #41: The Contents of Several Unopened Envelopes Delivered to Kane de Sang

Masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, angst / emotional whump, discussion of abusive relationship

beginning takes place a few days after Clean Break.

Dear Kane,

I’ve moved into my own house. It feels strange, living in a house by myself. It’s quiet. Not that my family home was loud, but there were people. Now there’s no Father, no Mother, no sisters, no servants. No you. Just me.

I’m not alone, of course. I’ve talked to you about my other friends before. They’ve been marvelously helpful, Sylvia especially. I know I’ve said this before, but I think you would like them all. I know they would like you, too, as long as you don’t say anything rude. As always, if you ever want to meet them, let me know.

I’m sure you’ve heard all about the disaster of my eighteenth birthday party, though you didn’t attend. I thought Father might faint. You should have seen the look on his face when I told everyone, it was glorious! He was even more upset than you were.

I know you said not to read your letter, but I did. I apologize. For the record, my answer is a resounding YES. Should you still like to move in with me, nothing would make me happier. I know it was a rather big fight, but you’re my best friend. We’ve made it through worse, have we not?

My new address is attached for you to reply. You don’t need to put a name on the envelope, if you want to keep it a secret. That way your parents wouldn’t know who you’re sending it to.

Yours truly, Bellamy Verta

Dear Kane,

We haven’t seen each other in the longest we’ve ever gone without, I believe. Unless you count the just-shy-of-a-year between my birth and yours. If you sent along a reply to my last letter, I’m afraid it was lost in the mail before it could make its way to me. Or perhaps my own letter was the one that was lost. Though I understand it’s far more likely you simply didn’t reply, just in case, I shall repeat the most important point: I’ve read your letter, my answer is YES.

I’ve managed to acquire ethically-sourced blood. I must admit it is not the most delectable, as you’d predicted, due to the considerable distance it must travel from an area with more amicable interspecies relations. However, such is a small price to pay in order to sustain myself in a way that does not harm others.

I’ve been wondering what you’ve been up to since I left. I think about you quite a lot. Honestly, you’re the only one I still think about, although it’s only been a month. I’d be happy if I never spoke to Father again. I’ve an urge to go back under the cover of day, with one of those full-coverage suits and a large brimmed hat, just to throw garish paint over his house. But I know you would say this is improper and irresponsible behavior, so I will make an effort to restrain myself.

I miss you.

Yours truly, Bellamy Verta

Dear Kane,

I kissed a man.

I don’t know why I’m telling you. It’s been three months and you haven’t replied, so it’s unlikely you’ll respond to this one either. But you would have been the first one I’d tell if things were still like before, so I felt as though I have to. I won’t bore you with the details, but it was nice. I thought you’d like to know, maybe.

We’re not courting. It’s different out here in the real world. You’re allowed to just try things out. The nobility is properly cultish in ways, quite honestly. I think you would like the real world a lot if you gave it a try. My offer still stands. My answer is still yes.

Yours truly, Bellamy Verta

Dear Kane,

I really miss you. I was thinking about it and decided I must write you another letter. I know you were always the one more inclined toward mathematics in our studies, and I’ve taken a page out of your book. Doing the proper research and all. Were you aware that there is a 0.0027% chance that all three of my letters were lost in the mail? I must say, my academic interests still tend toward art and literature, but probability can be fascinating in certain scenarios, when it matters. Not that it matters, as I’m no longer a schoolboy. I’m an adult now. Only 5 months until you are as well!

I was wondering how you were doing. Are you planning on taking a human? No one expects you to have to do that, you’re aware. It’s dangerous due to your condition. I don’t mean this in a condescending way, you know I would never. I simply worry for your safety. Humans have upped their defenses in recent years. I’ve never taken one, and in half a year I’ve managed to make a nice life for myself. You could too, if you wanted.

You know I don’t agree with human-keeping. But if you do, please be safe.

Yours truly, Bellamy Verta

Dear Kane,

Happy birthday!

I couldn’t not send a letter, even if you won’t send one back. Congratulations on coming of age. I’m otherwise strictly not in contact with my family, but I asked Katarina just because I was concerned, and she said that you do not plan on taking a human. It’s for the best, really. You don’t need that. Your parents are even bigger pricks than my own, somehow.

She also told me there will be no celebration, despite the milestone. I know how crushing that must be for you, especially as I’m not even there for our usual bash with just the two of us. I want you to know that my door is always open to you. I will be sure to be home on the eve of your eighteenth. I’m hoping this letter arrives a few days before then. Should you like, you can stop by and we can celebrate.

Yours truly, Bellamy Verta

Kane de Sang

🎊 You have been cordially invited to Bellamy Verta’s 19th birthday! 🎊

Flip this card for time, date, and location information.

Dear Kane,

I know by now that you don’t read these, but I’ve found myself in a bit of an uncomfortable situation, and I’m desperate for your advice. You always gave the best advice, before. Or you usually did. Sylvia says I need to stop writing to you because I’m only hurting myself, but she doesn’t know you. She would like you if she knew you like I do.

I started seeing someone several months ago. My third relationship now, actually. Quite a lot has happened since my last letter. I am proud to now call myself experienced in the art of homosexual activity!

Anyhow, regarding the matter at hand. Henry is a lovely person who I get on with quite well. He reminds me of you in some ways. However, lately he has been acting differently. To put it bluntly, he has become violent with me on multiple occasions. But then afterwards, he’s always back to his normal, kind self again, and I’m all healed by the next night. All my other friends are telling me to break it off, but he’s not always like this. Only sometimes. And other than that, he’s perfect. But it has been more often as of late. It’s hard to explain it all in a letter. If you are in fact reading these, would you be willing to meet and catch up?

I can picture it now. You would shake me by the shoulders and demand I come to my well-lacking senses. Or perhaps you would complicate matters by exchanging blows with him. I don’t think you would be pleased with the situation. But I believe this can be salvaged, if only I can find the right thing to say to him to make him understand that this is frightening me.

I’m also curious as to what you’ve been up to. I miss you.

Yours truly, Bellamy Verta

Dear Kane,

Maybe you do read these. I’m unsure. I thought I’d send along an update, just in case you are reading and not responding. I know you would have been worried about me if that was the case. I did end up breaking things off with Henry. He did not react well, but it’s over now.

I’m still interested in catching up, should you like to. I apologize if that was too much to put on you. We aren’t even really friends anymore, I suppose. But I’d like to be again.

Despite that bump, things have been pretty wonderful. There are so many things I wish I could share with you. I think you would be really happy here, if you gave it a chance.

7.29e-8%, otherwise known as 0.0000000729%. I think the point at which they start introducing “e” to mathematics is when the whole subject becomes truly irredeemable.

Yours truly, Bellamy Verta

Dear Kane,

I anticipate that this will be my last letter. Unless you respond, of course.

There will always be room in my heart for you. I would not be the person I am today without your friendship. But I have a new life now, a far better life than I did before, even if there are still troubles. And, though supportive, my friends are tired of hearing my heart ache for you. I find myself agreeing with them. I’m tired of it, too. It’s been a year and a half.

I wish nothing but the best for you, always. My door is always open to you should you change your mind and decide to get in contact. If I ever have a change-of-address, I shall send notice by mail, so you will be able to reach me.

I suppose this is goodbye. I would rewrite this on paper clear of teardrop stains, but I sincerely doubt you’ll be reading this anyway, so I shall leave it as-is.

I always loved you. I still do.

Bellamy Verta

drabbles posted between #40 and #41:

Accident (Epilogue #1.5)

taglist:

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#kane and jim #whump #my writing #vampire whumpee #angst #emotional whump #whump writing

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borathae · 2 years

Text

“There were simpler times in their life.”

Pairing: Soulmates!Vmin x named fem!OC

Genre: Polyamory!AU, Perioddrama!AU, Vampire!AU, Angst, Romance

Warnings: mentions of torture & trauma, gender & sexuality struggles, happy!Vmin :(

Wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: This is a snippet out of Sanguis!Vmin’s past together, hence why the OC is named and the story is not written in the 2nd POV. I honestly really missed writing about Tae’s past and I was very exited to dive deeper into Jimin’s past as well. Gosh, I miss him even if he was a lil dick for most of the story ahhaha 😔

"Jimin!” Taehyung came stumbling over the threshold, “Jimin you won’t believe what just happened!”

Jimin, who had been busy with reading the newest book of Jane Austen, lifted his head. He studied his best friend with curious but also slightly annoyed eyes.

“What?” he asked, lowering his book.

“I asked Ava if she wanted be with me and she said yes.”

“No way, you dared to ask?” Jimin gasped jumping to his feet to hurry to his friend, “Taetae those are excellent news. What exactly did she say?”

“Oh Jimin, It was so wonderful. You must hear all of it.”

It was three months ago when Taehyung met her.

It was at a viewing of his latest works. Taehyung remembers that day vividly. It was a rainy day, but the people didn’t allow it to taint their moods. On the contrary, the streets were bustling in life the entire day.

Taehyung worked two years on his art pieces and felt immense happiness at the aspect of finally sharing them with the world.

The viewing was a great success. Not only was Taehyung able to sell most of his works, he also met a lovely young lady at the festivities. She was standing by his only unsold work of the evening, sipping on her way too warm champagne, which Taehyung had imported solely for the viewing, and curling her lips as she thought.

Taehyung approached her because she seemed rather bored and he wanted to change that. After all, it was his viewing and he didn’t want his guest to be bored.

“I see that you have found an interest in this painting”, he said, studying with great interest as her gaze shifted from the painting to his face.

“Oh no, I find it rather dull. Wouldn’t you agree?” she answered him and Taehyung laughed.

“Dull”, he repeated, “now you must tell me why you feel that way”, he insisted, finding great liking in the way she seemed to curl her lips as she thought.

“I couldn’t tell you for the world of it”, she began, “but something about his choice off colour seems to bore me.”

“I see”, Taehyung inspected his work and suddenly felt the urge to agree with her, “I must say that combining oranges with reds is a rather dull thing to do.”

“Indeed”, she turned to him then, as if his answer sparked her interest greatly. She studied him from head to toe, curling her lips in that distinct way as she did, “and who are you?” she asked him.

“Me? I am no one really”, he smiled, “just the painter.”

Taehyung loved how her heart sped up in her chest. That sound had always been lovely to him.

The woman cleared her throat loudly and therefore forced Taehyung to concentrate his hearing back on the sounds only human were able to hear.

“Now I feel utterly ashamed, you must think me such an ill-mannered woman”, she said with great embarrassment in her eyes.

“Not at all, I am a great lover of honesty”, Taehyung assured her and lowered his gaze in his distinct way. Whether or not it was of magical nature, he refuses to tell. He knew however, that this look never failed and neither did it tonight, as the woman seemed rather charmed by it.

“I’m Ava”, she said, doing a perfect curtsey.

“It is a pleasure meeting you, Ava”, Taehyung returned the curtsey in perfect manner, “I’m Taehyung, but I figure that you already know my name.”

“Actually, I must admit. I only stumbled upon this viewing because there was a sign outside promising free food and champagne.”

Taehyung felt himself laugh honestly.

“Ah dear, you must really think I have no manners”, she said, fixing a strand of her hair in nervous instinct.

“Not at all. But come, I shall offer you more champagne”, he glanced at her flute, “cooled, I promise.”

She laughed, “well if that is so then I must take you up on your offer.”

Taehyung spent the rest of the evening talking to Ava. They chatted about food for a long time and Taehyung learned that Ava dreamt of being a chef in Paris one day. They also talked a lot about the arts and Taehyung learned that she possessed no knowledge regarding the topic, but that she wanted to learn. Taehyung also learned that Ava was new to life in the city and that she lived with her two rabbits and cat in a cellar apartment close to the city’s grandest park.

They also agreed on meeting for breakfast and they did. As friends.

They became great friends over the course of the next three months. At least that is what Ava wanted and Taehyung was happy to respect her wishes, despite his growing feelings for her.

Ava was a spectacular person. She was intelligent and quick-witted, she was kind and loved animals, she was never afraid to speak her mind and disliked the constricting roles of gender. Taehyung loved that about her and together they spent many nights fantasising about how it would be if only they switched genders for a night.

Ava also showed him her collection of countless costumes, she sewed for that exact occasion and Taehyung swore that he fell in love with her even deeper. Never before had he met a woman, who created costumes just so she could look like a man, but he was happy that he finally did. Because Ava was a delight. In as well as out of costume. She made him so incredibly happy to be on this earth.

Taehyung introduced Ava to Jimin two months into their friendship. Jimin was wary at first, because he has always been the jealous type, but warmed up to Ava very soon. Taehyung knew that Jimin would because Ava was lovely. She showed him ways of dressing up and Taehyung could watch as Jimin lit up in happiness because of it.

Jimin was very happy during the times with Ava. Many nights he spent admiring himself even long after Ava left. And even more nights, Taehyung could listen to his best friend sing in the washing room. Jimin rarely sang. Only when his humanity began brushing its fingers against his dead heart. And Taehyung loved that ever since Ava came into their life, Jimin began singing again.

Jimin has been Taehyung’s best friend ever since the twenties of the seventeenth century. They met during the endless winter of Jimin’s kingdom and had been family ever since. They shared the same fate, both cursed with vampirism and therefore eternal life. They shared most of that life together and while Taehyung had lived almost half a millennia before he met Jimin, he realised that his life only truly began once he met him.

They shared everything together. Homes, food, men and women as well as interests. Jimin loved to dance while Taehyung loved to play the violin. Jimin loved to pose while Taehyung loved to paint. Jimin loved to sing and Taehyung loved it too.

Jimin also loved to make a mess during their shared feeds, while Taehyung didn’t.

That was the only difference they had, but Taehyung didn’t blame Jimin. It wasn’t his fault that he loved what he loved.

Jimin wasn’t of the same kind as Taehyung. While Taehyung was of Normal decent, Jimin was a Glutton. And Gluttons are messy in their feed, it was in their nature.

Jimin didn’t want to become a vampire, let alone a Glutton, so he told Taehyung. He was tricked by a cunning and cruel demon into drinking its cursed blood and ever since then had to live his life in misery. The demon’s name was Namjoon and he was the Creator of most Gluttons on this earth.

Taehyung learned of Namjoon’s existence during the 1680s when the Creator came for a visit and tortured the two vampires for years. Taehyung still heard Jimin’s screams, even till this day almost sixty years later.

Taehyung felt different for the longest time ever since Namjoon five year long visit. Only recently, and perhaps only because of Ava, Taehyung began to feel like himself again.

He realised during those times, that Jimin was different too and only ever since he started to hear him sing again, he realised what had happened. Somewhere in his five years of torture, Namjoon must have forced them to turn off their humanity. And that Ava was responsible that both vampires found it again.

Taehyung fell even deeper for Ava because of it and soon his feelings for her became so great, that he couldn’t bear friendship any longer.

So he asked her. He gathered all his courage and asked her if she could imagine a world where they shared more than just friendship. And to his surprise, Ava said that she could.

Taehyung kissed Ava for the first time that night and he swore that he felt even the last jumbled pieces of his humanity finally shifting back into place.

It was twenty days later when Jimin asked Ava the same question. He talked to Taehyung about it first, confessing his own feelings for her to him with hopes that he would understand. And Taehyung did. He felt so happy for his best friend that he encouraged him to ask Ava the same question.

And so Jimin did, receiving the same answer from her as Taehyung did.

Taehyung was incredibly happy that she did, because it meant that he could share someone he loved so very dearly with the one person he will always love the most.

Ava spent the coming summer with Taehyung and Jimin. She left her basement apartment in the city and moved to their farm.

It was Taehyung’s land once, but he liked to say that it was as much of Jimin’s land as it was his’ these days. After all, it was only with Jimin when this small patch of land gained true meaning.

Jimin loved nature. He loved the work in a garden, loved the stray cats visiting them in the evening and found peace in watching the fireflies at night. Jimin always said to Taehyung that they reminded him of the galaxies of far away and later in their life, Taehyung would spend many days painting them just for him.

But this small piece of land would be their home for many decades before Taehyung began painting stars. They built a cottage on the once untouched meadow and Jimin planted big apple trees in the back.

Ava loved those trees. They had the perfect distance for them to span a piece of sturdy bedsheet between the trunks.

Taehyung and Ava spent a lot of time in their bedsheet hammock. Taehyung liked to read to Ava during those moments. And sometimes they kissed until the night turned dark.

Jimin and Ava spent a lot of time on the porch. Late at night when the stray cats already said their goodbyes and the fireflies painted galaxies on the horizons. They liked to sit and listen to the crickets. And sometimes they loved to kiss until the moon danced way past its zenith.

It was a good time in their lives. Filled with happiness and moments of sweetness.

They decided to tell Ava their secret once the first orange leaves were seen on the trees.

Ava was silent for a long time that evening. She simply stared at their true faces until they felt sick in nervousness. Taehyung remembers clearly that she shifted in her chair and then curled her lips in her distinct way.

And then she laughed. She laughed so loudly and so happily that for a moment the two vampires wondered if she had lost her mind in shock.

“Why am I not surprised?” she finally said and asked no further questions.

They shared Jimin’s bed that night. They shared it until the early morning hours and afterwards shared it lost in a deep, happy slumber.

Life with Ava became better ever since their confession. They taught her a lot about their kind and Ava listened with great interest. And soon they found themselves sharing way more than just a bond. Jimin always said that Ava’s blood was one of the sweetest bloods he ever tasted and till this day, Taehyung thinks it was because Jimin was truly in love with her.

Taehyung really misses those times. Till this day, almost two centuries later, Taehyung likes to think back to the times on their farm.

Ava stayed during all of autumn and she stayed all through winter and as spring came, she had finally finished decorating her room. She helped Jimin in the garden a lot in spring and in the evenings she liked to pose for Taehyung. In and out of costume. Sometimes Jimin joined too. In and out of costume. And Taehyung loved the paintings, which came out of those sessions.

By the time spring was almost over, Ava and Jimin had adopted one of the stray cats and named it Darcy. They were all entirely obsessed with the book ever since it was released and loved to read it to each other before going to bed.

Come summer, Taehyung stopped being present during the day. Not because he wanted to, but because he was once again preparing for a viewing of his latest works. Further away from their farm, which meant he was on horseback for many hours during those times.

Taehyung loved this time of their life. He loved leaving the farm, knowing that once he can return home, he would be greeted by the smell of Ava’s dinner and the sweetness of their kisses.

He truly loved his life. He felt like a husband coming home after a long day of work, greeted by food and love. Taehyung was reminded what being human felt like during this time of his life.

Humanity was something precious and wonderful to him and sometimes, he got the feeling that Jimin loved it even more than him.

Jimin was so happy, so full of life, so unapologetically himself. He sang not only in the washing room, but every chance he got and in the morning, he loved to dance with Taehyung until their bellies ached in laughter.

Perhaps that is also why Taehyung loved coming home. Because Jimin was happy and as much love he had for Ava, seeing his soulmate happy, brought Taehyung true peace. All he wanted for Jimin the moment he met him, was happiness.

But happiness can’t exist with sadness. And peace can’t exist with chaos. And their lives were never meant to be without chaos. Chaos which comes so fast and ruins too much.

Taehyung remembers coming home that evening and the house smelling of fresh bread. He remembers slipping out of his riding boots and calling out their names. He remembers looking at the bouquets of flowers he bought for them. They were just slightly squished from having to spend his entire ride in his bag. He remembers thinking to himself that they will love the surprise nonetheless.

And he remembers dropping them the moment he sat foot into the kitchen and seeing Ava’s maimed corpse on the table. Her throat was ripped out to the point where her head barely stayed on.

Taehyung remembers that he wanted to scream, but that he couldn’t for chaos interrupted him before he could.

“Welcome home”, chaos spoke and Taehyung felt frozen in fear.

He lifted his head and laid eyes upon Jimin’s blood covered face. It wasn’t Ava’s blood but his own.

“Jimin. No”, Taehyung pressed out, shifting his gaze to chaos.

“It is time you little piglets learn to behave again”, Namjoon spoke, rising from the chair at the end of the table.

#taehyung romance #jimin romance #bts romance #taehyung fanfic #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #taehyung scenario #jimin scenario #bts scenario #vampire!taehyung #vampire!jimin #requested #fanfic: sanguis duology

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thinkpink212 · 9 months

Text

♡ Taking Myself There - Week 2 ♡

— Life has shown itself to be about learning & moving, so let’s learn and move

Summery This week was def something else; I didn't do much but work work work, and when I wasn't working I spend my time taking care, reading, making nice meals and easing myself back into stretching daily. Next week has a mixture of busy and free time, and with my courses pick back up meaning I need to get back on my fixed routine or I will find myself falling back faster then I should! But despite that, I had a pretty good week with lots of realizations! And I am sure next week will be great too!

This week I was very grateful for...

♡ The distance I created between my parent and I, because the absence truly strengthened our bond.

♡ My creativity and my ability to have so much fun whenever I tap into it!

♡ Getting back into audiobooks after having to pause my subscription due to financial issues. I have missed escaping into these little worlds! They have me smiling all day long!

♡ My strengthening ability to walk away! It has saved me from a lot of mess!

♡ My ability to take care of myself even when things are moving faster and I am tired!

Highlights - The best parts of the week where five moments... ♡

♡ Getting back in touch with old friends, and reminding myself friendship is a two way street! Life’s hectic and sometimes time will pass with some radio silence, but I remind myself that the right people always find their way back (and I find my way back to them) Now I have plans made and I’m exited to see my girlies!

♡ My roomates mom! She taught me how to bake very simple bread, and it is all I have had for the past few days! They are delicious, fun and easy to make, cheaper then buying bred and filling!

♡ Cool interactions with guests at my work, as well as coworkers who have just made me laugh loads!

♡ My art spark is back and I am very exited to create more in the month of august!

What's next With the upcoming week, I would like to spend more time writing - I always say this and then I write 2-3 times in a week for hours and nothing else, but I know once I start ill not stop till I am satisfied, so I must simply start! But it’s easier said then done, but I’ll get it done this time around!

I also had a realization that I am truly a stereotype of my zodiac modality! As a Cancer (Cardinal sign) I am a starter, a leader, a creator but I lack the 'execution' kick that can occur at times but doesn't last long, unless it can be done now and here. With patience, journaling and more inner work, I also find myself not thriving well when I try to pace myself, over-plan and such (SN Pisces / NN Virgo), and so, I need a balance that allows that quick, fun and focused energy that just shoots me from point to point, with enough discipline and planning to continue w/o burnout or distraction. Ex. I’ll now be writing my book(s) whole. No more writing one chapter and editing, because the perfectionist side will keep at it and I don’t have the attention span or patience (or enough story) for it to be what I need it to be. So now I she’ll write, and edit/retouch when it is a whole story.

Another realization is overcoming this urge to always start over and start something new. Ex. I found myself wanting to start a whole new art page just to post art that I can just post on here, but I didn't want to ruin my feed, or be persevere or have this be associated directly with my art... and it made me disappointed (in my thoughts) that I think my art would ruin anything. It’s rude @ myself, but hey it’s how I feel somewhere deep. I love my art but I definitely have a very wide variety/non-consistant art style — I love it, but it doesn’t always fit each-other. But hey, that’s a part of where I am trying to go (being perceived, judged and so on). I’ll have to work on accepting my creations for what they are, put less pressure on myself and simply go where I am taken. And now, I would like to take this page to a new level so stay tuned.

I will eventually become the person I need to be, because where I am going I have to become her. I have much more to learn and much more to do (and not just say I’ll do tihi) but it is coming, and so far I am very proud of where I have taken myself! Change is scary but I am tired of letting fear win when I know that the ending is in my favor!

Wishing you all a beautiful Sunday & Happy Week Ahead 🩷

#week 2 #thinkpink personal #taking myself there #motivational

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ramblesamongstardust · 2 years

Text

After the Storm - a short story

A former dark lord comes home and finds the chosen hero that killed her sitting in her living room.

2,709 words. Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts.

The hut was a haggedy-looking thing, sumped into the ground with walls of mud and a roof of sticks. Tenumbra had taken special care to build this exterior with her own two hands. There were much easier ways to shape the earth that she knew of, ways to raise spires from the dirt and pull a portcullis out of bedrock, but those ways were best left behind with her armor, which now rusted behind the ruins of said portcullis she had fled from.

The interior, of course, she afforded more luxury. Wooden walls, a chair, a fireplace, a bookshelf for those tomes and trinkets she was able to save. A single finger from the left gauntlet of her armor, the only one without a char on it; it was tucked away behind the books, of course.

A small kitchen, more akin to a walk-in pantry than anything, for she had no need of a fireplace in here when her magic would suffice. No dining hall, for there would not be the clanking of mugs against wooden tables or the cheering of toasts, pledges of loyalty in the air, not anymore. She would eat her dinner in her chair in the living room, and then she would roll out her sleeping mat and bed in for the night.

Tenumbra rose before the sun. The animals fed then and thus she would feed, too. The keen hearing of the deer was not keen enough to hear the weaving of spells between her fingertips. Once their bodies dropped, the urge to consume their last breath of life pressed like nails into her temples, but she resisted, letting it slip away into the air each time.

She didn’t need that kind of power. Not anymore. It was not her place to take it, not after what she’d lost.

(Oh, but she still yearned. Writing in her diary helped her to process this, but nothing could change-)

She then dragged the carcass back and butchered it beside her hut. The bones were tempting to keep as warnings, but they would not be as effective as human ones, this she knew. But she had no use for either, now, so she buried them. The meat would be taken down to the pantry and combined with wild grains and what little spices she had to make stew.

The stew was a paltry comfort, one of her few. She was looking forward to it when she climbed down the ladder into her living room, and turned to find the girl who had driven a sword through her chest sitting in her chair.

The girl- what was her name again? Barely old enough to hold the sword she’d been given by the rebellion. She must have had a more innocent name, but Tenumbra only knew her as “the Prophesied One”.

A memory of something sharp and stabbing wormed its way into Tenumbra’s chest as the Prophesied One looked at her. Missing this time was the fire in the girl’s brown irises that shined out from underneath the helmet she had worn to what should have been their last encounter. The Prophesied One instead looked dull, as if someone had beat her over a grindstone. Tenumbra eased the spell she had begun to weave behind her back.

“I’m sorry,” the Prophesied One said. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“How did you find me?”

“You haven’t stopped practicing your dark arts. Moonslicer could locate you immediately.” The girl closed her eyes. Her long sigh followed, filling silence. “It took weeks before I could convince it to let me rest instead of going after you.”

Tenumbra glanced to the girl’s hip. “The sword is not with you.”

“No. I needed to. . . I couldn’t. . .”

“Since you’re not here to finish your prophecy, why are you here? To mock me?”

The Prophesied One covered her eyes and shook her head. Her lithe form shook, bit by bit, breath by breath. Tenumbra could taste the despair these breaths released into the air. She was crying, the chosen hero, the one who had faced death with a smile on her face when she’d stormed Tenumbra’s stronghold, with the power of her friends behind her and the ancient sword glowing in her grasp.

“I-I’m sorry, Dark Sorceress.” The girl said.

“I am not that. Not anymore, not after that scar you gave me.” Tenumbra replied.

“You have another name?”

“You have not told me why you are here, Prophesied One.”

“My name is,” a bit of fire rekindled in the girl’s eyes, before dulling again. “My name is Mila. Just, Mila.”

“Just?”

“Not ‘Mila, the Prophesied’. Not ‘Mila, Wielder of Moonslicer’. And please, not ‘Queen Mila’. I guess I’d be fine with ‘foolish girl’, like you used to say in your monologues, if you’d like. It’s certainly the most accurate.”

“Mila.” Tenumbra rolled the name slowly over her tongue. A quaint name, one from the towns on the border of her once empire. No doubt one of the villages that’d been burnt as the rebels resisted.

“Thank you. It’s been so long.”

“Why are you here?” Tenumbra hissed.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

“What of your friends, the ones whom, if I recall, you said gave you your strength during our final battle?”

“I can’t be their friend anymore. I’m their queen now.”

Tenumbra rubbed her temples. “As it was foretold.”

“. . . what is your name? The resistance never told me you had one.”

“Of course they wouldn’t. Only my closest followers knew me by that name. They are all dead now. You spared none.”

“I’m sorry. Khalis still lives, if that’s-”

“Turncoat! Traitor! I’ll have nothing to do with him. You are here only to mock me, aren’t you?” Tenumbra snapped. Purple sparks sprinkled from her fingers, threads ready to be woven.

Mila stood from the chair, her eyes glassy. She walked forward. Tenumbra wove the spell. Mila continued her approach. Tenumbra thrust her hand forward, only for Mila to push her chest against her ensorcelled fingertips.

“Please. Do it.” Mila whispered.

Tenumbra lost hold of the threads of the weave, and the spell fizzled from existence.

“Please.” Mila pleaded again.

“Why?”

“You’re the only one who can.”

“You could have simply killed yourself, and spared yourself the journey.”

“I can’t.” Mila shook her head. “I’m not strong enough.”

“You so badly wished to live the last time we met.” Tenumbra lowered her hand. “You won that battle. Go home, child. Enjoy your victory. Enjoy your peace.”

“It’s not peace, though. Not the way Khalis reports unrest in the south. Not in the silence in the palace halls. Not the way Moonslicer still whispers in my head.”

“The border down there has always been testy. That is to be expected. And if your halls are silent, fill them with music! Shouldn’t be too hard to capture a choir, or perhaps a few, ahem, fiddlers, if that is more your aesthetic, to perform for you.” Tenumbra stepped to the side and gestured to the ladder.

“I don’t want to make anybody do anything!” Mila turned away and marched back to the living room chair, throwing herself down upon it.

“Then ask them politely, if that better fits your sensibilities!”

“I’m the queen. Asking is the same as forcing them.”

“As it should be. You have taken power.”

“I didn’t want it.” Mila folded her hands in her lap.

“Then what did you want?” Tenumbra shouted. “You stormed my lands, slaughtered my followers, destroyed my castle, and nearly killed me; all for what?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I thought I’d find it once you were gone.” Mila said. “It would all get better. T-They told me it would.”

The girl sobbed, with ragged little breaths, not unlike those of the deer. A thought crossed Tenumbra’s mind, of the amount of power she could take from the dying tears of this chosen hero, likely enough to begin gathering followers again, enough to start a renewed assault against the rebels’ wretched puppet kingdom.

But try as she might to picture a new castle, dark stone gleaming under the moonlight, she could only remember the empty ruins of her previous fortress, the courtyard littered with the bodies of those who had put their trust in her.

Tenumbra walked to the kitchen. She was still holding the meat, after all. Her appetite was gone, having left when she laid face upon Mila, yet her hands moved to fetch the cooking pot. First went in the water, then the wild barley. A quick spell warmed the pot. She then sliced the meat into thin pieces, then added it to the mix. Finally came the spices. The warm smell wound its way through the air and out of the kitchen.

Routine carried her to grab her bowl, serve herself a portion, and then move to the living room, only to find her seat taken. Mila had ceased crying, though her cheeks were still puffy.

“Get out.” Tenumbra said.

The girl did not move.

Tenumbra sighed, before holding the stew out to her. Her hands hesitated around the bowl, before grabbing it. She did not even bother with the spoon, bringing the bowl up to her lips and gulping down the still-steaming contents.

Tenumbra returned to the kitchen. She hadn’t carved a second bowl, nor another spoon. She sighed, before grabbing the whole pot and taking it into the living room. She glared at Mila as she walked around her own chair, before finding a spot on the floor beside the fireplace and setting the pot down. She sat cross-legged behind it. She grabbed the serving spoon and began to eat, still refusing to break eye contact with Mila.

“You look so much less frightening without your armor.” Mila spoke.

You look so small without yours, Tenumbra almost said.

“Where’d you get armor like that, anyway?”

“It was made by my finest smith.” Tenumbra replied. “It was like a second skin.”

“But not strong enough to resist Moonslicer.”

“No, evidently not. But I do miss it.”

“It did look cool. Now you just look. . . normal.”

Tenumbra put down her spoon and brushed her hair to the side, where it had fallen in front of her face. Her finger caught on one of her curls. Streaks of gray interrupted the dark black. Likely a consequence of her power being so diminished. She had no mirror in this hut. She had not had a chance to see herself since the night that should have been her death.

“‘Normal.’ What does that mean to you?” Tenumbra asked.

“You look like somebody’s mom. Or a nun. Or a crotchety old cook.”

Tenumbra let out a single laugh. She grabbed her spoon and took a bite of stew. She studied Mila. The girl was perfectly average- tan, brown eyes, brown hair. A bit thin, but that was nothing more stew couldn’t fix.

“You look like someone’s daughter.” Tenumbra said quietly. “Or perhaps a farmhand.”

“I was both, before you came and burned my village.”

“I did not personally light the flames.”

“But you commanded the people who did.”

“I did. You know this. You know that I lived after your attempt on my life, and you did not bring Moonslicer with you here to finish your revenge. Are you not still incensed by your mother’s murder?”

A flicker of the fire that lit Mila’s eyes that fateful night in the castle shined in them now. The chair creaked as Mila sat forward, gripping the bowl tightly in her palms. But her grip then loosened, and she tossed the bowl on the ground.

She leaned into her hands. “Killing you didn’t fix anything.”

“No satisfaction? Not a feeling of justice, or even resolution?”

“I just feel. . . empty. Isn’t that how you got started?”

“What do you mean?”

“You feel nothing. I mean, how could you not? Ordering all of that horrible stuff. You’d have to feel nothing.”

Tenumbra shook her head and chuckled softly. “Oh child, do you really think I would have done what I did if I didn’t care?”

Mila did not respond. Tenumbra stood up from the ground. A bit of pain flared up from her joints. She then picked up the pot and walked it back to the kitchen. When she’d returned Mila had stood as well, holding the empty bowl.

“It’s not that I don’t care.” Mila held the bowl out. “But-”

Tenumbra grabbed it. “You are not like me. You are meek. I take what I want, and if something is taken from me, I extract revenge, and I find it very satisfying.”

Mila shrugged. “I’m standing right here. No armor or weapons. I even asked nicely for it. Why haven’t you done it?”

Tenumbra turned around and walked into the kitchen. She set the bowl down on the table beside the pot. Mila had scraped the bowl clean of food- had she not journeyed here with appropriate rations? Tenumbra had chosen a place for her hut many day’s journey from the new capital city. . . and that might explain the girl’s thinness.

Why did she even care? The girl was right- she should have killed her for what she’d taken. Her followers. Her empire. Nearly her very life. Mila should have been but a pile of ashes upon the floor the moment she found her in her hut.

She clenched her fists. She turned around. She did not, though, expect to find Mila leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. Her tired eyes drifted to the pot of stew, before settling back on Tenumbra’s face.

“. . . do you want some stew for the road?” Tenumbra found herself asking.

“I don’t want to go back.”

“You have the world waiting for you- all the power you could ever want.”

“But I don’t want it.”

“Then use that power to get what you do want.”

“I want my mom back.” Mila looked down. “I want the blanket she made for me, on my bed, in my house. I want my neighbors. They made the best apricot pie. I want my garden- you should’ve seen my pumpkins. They were getting so big.”

There were magics, Tenumbra knew, that could raise the dead. There were magics that could weave blankets, or make pies, or grow vegetables. There were also magics that could repair armor, or raise mighty spires from the earth to house the loyal.

None of that mattered now, though.

“Have you tried. . . keeping a diary?” Tenumbra asked. “Perhaps, if you record what it is that you are missing, it may not yet be lost from this world.”

“I only learned how to read since they told me I was queen. I’m not good at it.”

“Then stay alive until you figure it out.”

Tenumbra turned around and began ladling more stew into the bowl. She then encased the bowl in a simple, water-tight spell weave, before turning back around and holding it out to Mila.

“Is that what you’re doing?” Mila asked.

“What?”

“Nothing. Thank you.” She grabbed the bowl from her hands.

“Go now. Don’t come back.”

Mila looked at the bowl, before turning it upside down. The liquid was caught against the invisible dome of the sealing spell. She then turned it back upright. With silent remark, she tucked the bowl under her arm, and left for the living room. Tenumbra stayed in the kitchen, staring at the wall, and listened for Mila’s footsteps to ascend up the ladder, but they never did.

“You never told me your name.”

“What use is it to you?”

She did not lift her gaze from the wall. In her periphery she saw Mila peek her head back into the kitchen, and wait.

“My name is Tenumbra.” She said quietly. “Best you only speak of it in the darker corners of this world.”

The girl disappeared back into the living room. Bootsteps sounded on each rung of the ladder, and the door swung open and closed.

Tenumbra made for her bookshelf and pulled out her diary. Her trembling hands could barely keep the quill steady.

Nothing can change what was lost. Not revenge, not rebuild. One can only move forward.

She lifted her quill. Further down the page, she wrote,

Her name is Mila.

#short story #original writing #rambles #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #fantasy #character archetypes #chosen one subversion #hero and villain #in which the chosen one and the dark lord learn something from each other #in which both might learn to pick up the pieces #feedback appreciated!

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everybody-loves-purdy · 2 years

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Finished reading River the other day and wow, whoever in the higherups are making the Erins write these deaths must really fucking hate dogs. The first instance in the first arc was fine given it's a one-time case and kinda the point of the book, same with TE with it being a plot-point given Lightening Tail, and I don't think we had dog-related deaths after that for years until HJ and now River where they straight up rip cats apart like they're some rabid animal right in front of the cast. And unlike TDP and TE it's all for the sake of shock value too if you compare how the former two were compared to the latter (Swiftpaw's death is completely offscreen, Lightning just dies to his wounds, while Toad and Curlfeather are literally torn apart RIGHT ON PAGE and with them described as screeching and verbally dying and everything in the most horrifyingly graphic detail.)

It's a little fucked up tbh, the few instances of friendly dogs are so few and far between, it's like they use dogs as an easy death and demonize them or something. I feel bad for anyone who's a dog lover who reads the newest book, especially if either of the Erins like dogs alongside cats and have to write that. I'm more for cats, grew out of being a dog lover myself, but even I can't see dogs just getting the sudden urge to rip cats apart as if they're some fucking Orca or something unless they're either A. Guard dogs gone loose and thus are trained to be aggressive, or B. Rabid. But we don't have that context at all so it's like, what is it with dogs in these recent books and having some instinct to kill cats? I GET that dogs are a danger to wild cats too but I don't think the first instinct they have is to murder them in cold blood on sight. Unless I'm missing something and thus dogs in the Warriors world are cold blooded murderers that have cats as part of their diet, instead of some haha dog chases cat trope, but ya know, we don't know that or what it is with them.

I agree - most dogs just wouldn’t do that to a cat, obviously some might but a majority of dogs would just play roughly with them at worse. The dogs in warrior cats seem to be killing machines recently. The ones that killed Swiftpaw and Lightning Tail were guard dogs specifically and are presented as such, which is the reason why they went so hard on these cats - especially since their handlers didn’t seem like great people so it can be assumed that these dogs were trained specifically to be violent. But the ones that killed Toad and Curlfeather? As far as we know those were just people’s dogs that had gotten out. Maybe the ones that killed Toad were farm dogs? I’m not a farmer or anything but surely farm dogs should be trained to show restraint given their presence around livestock?

It’s just so odd that the cats that died at the paws of guard/attack dogs died less violent deaths than Toad and Curlfeather (I’m going to assume Swiftpaw’s was less violent since he still was in one piece and Brightpaw was left alive - there’s nothing to indicate he was ripped limb from limb like Toad or Curlfeather were)

I know there are instances of dogs going nuts and killing cats or livestock (especially lambs) but these events are generally quite few and far between, meanwhile most dog encounters on warriors recently do end in extreme violence. Which is especially odd given the context of the dogs that attacked Toad maybe being farm dogs and perhaps the ones that attacked Curlfeather too given they were on the moor which has been said to have sheep grazing on it before (unless these dogs are later revealed to be strays which have been terrorising WindClan and the local Shepard )

Tbh I feel like they wanted to up the brutality of the books again and decided that dogs would be an easy tool to achieve this

#anonymous

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bondsmagii · 2 years

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I have the nostalgic urge to get back into reading but I don’t know where to start. It’s like learning how to read again or riding a bike for the first time. Once you got it down, you got it down, but it’s hard to start and whenever I have found things I’ve wanted to read in the past, there haven’t been audiobooks available to me to read along with.

The last school assigned books (AkA the last books I read) that I liked were Jeckyll and Hyde and Hamlet, weird but I like the brain. It’s such a complicated thing and I love seeing it contort in scenarios before me. I’ve always had a vivid imagination and could easily recreate scenes in my mind. But I’m also a wimp so horror is off the table. Thrillers are a maybe, horrors if I don’t read before the suns down are a maybe. I like fantasy, I think, or things that skew the world as I know it. Dystopians are kinda cool but when I was forced to read Fahrenheit 451, it made 0 sense and everything was blurry.

I think I just miss being 6 years old reading my first “big kid book”, diary of a wimpy kid, and actually enjoying a book. But alas, I have no idea where to start and about as intelligent as a doorknob

honestly, don't believe for a moment that you have to leap back in with complicated/dense/"smart" books. go back and read all your favourite books from when you were a kid. go back and read all of your old favourites. you don't have to read new books all the time -- rereading is still reading, because as you grow and change as a person, so too will change what you notice and get out of a book. every story is brand new to its reader, every time they read it.

if you know what kinds of things you like to see in books, hunt for things that feature them, or read more by authors you know you like. there are so many books out there and that can be overwhelming at first, because where do you start?, but you at least know what you like (and what you don't like), so that's all you need to get going. and remember that you don't have to finish a book you don't like! if you're not feeling it, go read another book. there's no shame in putting down a book you're not vibing with.

I think there's a lot of pressure put on the idea of reading, because it's a "smart" hobby and therefore to do it, you must be smart. this is just bullshit. I'm sure you're perfectly intelligent -- just because you didn't "get" Fahrenheit 451 (or any other book) doesn't mean you're not. maybe you just didn't like the book. maybe you don't vibe with the writing style. maybe you just haven't read enough yet to develop the skills that would allow you to appreciate it. it has nothing to do with intelligence. reading, like anything, is something you have to practise. when I first got back into reading, a few years ago now, do you think I could have understood a word of Dostoevsky? absolutely not. my man loves convoluted sentences that are two pages long and I would have been LOST. it's like exercising a muscle, though: the more I read, the higher my stamina, and the more I was able to follow along and take in. even so, there are still some "smart" books I don't like or don't get. I don't particularly like Shakespeare myself (as reading; love the performances). I don't like Virginia Woolf. A Clockwork Orange gave me a headache and I put it down after a chapter. it's much more to do with practise and taste than intelligence (though reading DOES make you smarter -- probably because it enhances your ability to take in and organise information, make connections, etc, as well as broadens your general knowledge).

but above all, it's about the joy of it. read what you like. read what you enjoy. go back to old favourites. try new things and give up on them if you're not feeling it. come back later or not at all. reading is something you practise and that you consistently get better at the more you do. there's no shame in being out of practise (or even being a complete beginner!), so go out there and read what you love and see what you discover in a year. you'll be surprised at how quickly you can end up with a reading list as long as a lifetime.

#anon #asks

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violinvoidspecialty · 1 year

Text

8 and Rising

First chapter. I hope this sparks others to write Kaiju No. 8 books! It's great ya know! Also, this book will contain gore, but no cussing! I'm an adult that doesn't swear a bit nor will I write swear words. "Heck" is the best I got. (This will be in first person too! Though my hands tend to write "you" instead of "I") I decided to post this on Tumblr as well!

Kaijuu No. 8 various M x F reader

I was awestruck when I saw them. On the way to the shelter, my father urgently pulled me forward yet with a caring hand. But I still stared off toward the destructive force that roared down and stomped upon my roof like it was mere lego (dang monsters must be immune to that pain). I couldn’t help but look for the tiny figures of the Defense Force that took on an imaginable, deadly task. They were amazing. Amazing. Amazing. Their presence felt bigger than that of the giant monster. My father pulled me into the shelter as the door shut and drew the curtain on the battlefield. I wanted to watch the monster fall and humanity rise to another victory. I knew it wasn’t safe, and my father wouldn’t trust a rope tied around the waist. My faith led me to let it go.

Humans that were that amazing couldn’t possibly fail.

"And though Japan’s Defense Force was early to dispatch, casualties were many and so was the damage to the city. The reports say that Commander of Division 2 Hakari Shinomiya was held back in an escalating situation and despite her agility, could not arrive to aid. The De-"

“Enough of that dear, please come and eat dinner.” Father urged from his end seat at the evacuation shelter table. Other people had not come to eat, too upset over the attack.

“Did you see them, Papa?” My eyes gleamed as I walked over. “The Defense Force are made up of heroes!”

Father tried to smile, but his eyes soured the mood. “Whoa, don't get too worked up, alright? And yes, those are very brave and strong people.”

“You were once too, Papa.” I plopped down on the chair next to him.

“Oh…so I’m not brave and strong anymore?”

“OH! You still are!” My eyes watered up thinking I upset him.

“Haha…that’s alright.” It is then he started coughing, hunching slightly over the table. His gloved hand gripped the edge painfully.

“Papa?!”

He grabbed his handkerchief and covered his mouth aware that his glass of water was a bad cough drowner. “I-I’m…fine dear.”

I sat back down from my knees. His cough was as bad as it had always been, like a man that was the sole host to the cold. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t truly believe him. My colds always went away. Why didn’t his?

Present Day

A roaring crowd. I was part of the roaring crowd that applauded the members of the Third division. The scaly orange Kaiju was defeated all thanks to their might and prowess. Commander Mina Ashiro was even more so incredible. She walked with a firm stance, splattered with the essence of battle, but unscathed nonetheless. I remembered my father holding me above his shoulders when I was little so I could express my gratitude to passing victorious troops. I smiled to myself before forming a cup around my mouth and pulling a party popper from my pocket. The person beside me asked under his breath if I just carried those around. Well, of course! You never know when a kaiju will fall!

“You were great out there! Thanks so much!” The popper was a tail to my gratitude and it brightened the soldiers, even more, lifting them into higher spirits.

“Heheheh…You’re welcome miss.” One of the troop members responded.

The crowd eventually dispersed and I wandered the street thinking of something to have for dinner. It had been some time since I had gone grocery shopping, the reason due only to sitting in front of the TV with a growly stomach, and waiting for word of Division deployment. Then and only then would I dash out of my temporary abode to see it with my own eyes. Collect and memorize, fuel my desire to join the ranks. Maybe some would rush to a scene of a meteor shower, yet I was the only one, however, to push passed the influx of flight. I wanted to see and take it in. The rise of humanity over calamity. I never felt more alive than in those moments I witnessed tiny feet upon gigantic ones.

I was convinced it was my reason to exist. The fact that my father never resisted when I confessed was all the more proof. Father…

I stopped in front of a small little store that looked like an extra bookshelf squeezed into the corner. I smelt a savoury and welcoming scent that wandered out of the place. The sign above read “Chiisana Chiisana”. My stomach growled and I gave in to the call of hunger. At least I was immune to the effects of hanger because by now it would’ve metamorphosed me into a Numbers Kaiju.

Instead of the chime of a bell greeting, I dodged the incoming assault from a party popper. I caught some of the confetti before it fell to the ground and tilted my head blinking. A wide smile popped onto my face and I glanced at the culprit. It was the same one I had popped for the troop members earlier!

“You have great taste! Such innovation! What a greeting! It’s like a surprise party for every customer.” My empty tummy forced that party’s cake and snacks into my thoughts as the sales clerk came out of the back room.

“Ah…you look like a fangirl.” The plush-sized elderly woman said as she hopped onto the stool behind the counter. She was wearing a cute little kimono with “Chiisansa Chiisana” and dancers stitched within the fabric.

She was adorable, to be honest, and I immediately wished this sweet old lady was my gram-gram. Did I not mention that I was wearing…JAKDF merch? My shoes looked like Kaiju, one alive with a mean face, and one with X’s as eyes, my shirt had the insignias of the divisions and I had hair accessories of the same theme. It was obvious at a glance. The old lady’s eyesight had yet to fail her.

“Oh, yeah. Unapologetically so.” I did a salute and she laughed.

“It’s good to see the youth in such high spirits. Makes the future more hopeful when those of my generation are gone.”

You tried not to tear up. ‘No grams, no! Judging by your eyesight you still have many years left.’

“Lured in here by the savoury aroma?” She asked with her sweet smile and cat-mimicking eyes.

“How’d you-” Your stomach growled like a Kaiju. “Yep, indeed it did.”

She looked off to the table behind me and that was where I saw them. If I wasn’t so distracted by the adorable old lady my nose would’ve locked onto the target already.

“Oooooo….” Some drool slipped down the corner of my mouth and I grabbed a napkin from my other pocket and wiped it up. I was always prepared.

“Go on ahead dear, not many are going to come around today.” I heard her say as I travelled towards them while my head rocked back and forth to scan the shelves. (I do this and probably look so odd! SMH)

“What a blessed day! First, the Kaiju is brought down and now I get all the burgers I could want.” You were practically in Buddha form as you approached the steaming goods.

“GRANDMA! I need burgers stat!” A sudden cry caught you off guard. So much for your divinity.

An older, tall man with scruffy black hair was blocking the entranceway huffing and puffing. He was in a full white suit that looked like it was from a lab.

‘Is this…some sort of…burger robbery????’

“Oh my, you’re late today Kafka.” The elder woman chuckled as she shook her head.

“I know! I’m sorry!” Kafka apologized loudly.

“I haven’t lost my hearing yet you know.”

“Nor have I.” The man then looked at me as I blocked the table as if poorly attempting to hide the fact that there were amazing-smelling burgers on it.

“Oh dear me, right Kafka this is-”

“Y/n Hayakoki. It’s nice to meet both of you.” I saluted yet again because it was a habit I developed upon introduction while posing in front of the mirror as a child.

‘That’s the-’ He smiled. “Kafka Hibino.” He saluted back.

‘That’s the-’

Before the question could be asked the man suddenly remembered he was running late.

“Ah-burgers!”

“But-” You sulked. “Yeah, okay. No room to be selfish in this Kaiju-infested world.” I removed myself from the table but not before snatching a good armful of the goods.

“Thank you dear.”

Kafka speed-walked over. “IappreaciateitreallyyouhavenoideawhatsitslikeforamanofmyageanywayIgottacleanupthatKaijunowsobyeee.”

“Did you say Kaiju?” I asked feeling my interest meter fill like my soon-to-be tummy.

“I also said I realllllly got to go!”

“But Kaijuuuuuu?”

He blew air from his nose. There really was no time to debate. The old lady threw him a paper bag which he caught and opened up like cracking an egg with one hand.

“So your part of the clean-up crew? How long?” I walked with my hands in my pockets beside Kafka.

“Yeah, that’s what this suit is.” He pointed his thumb at it. “For a few years now.”

“Wow.” I took in all the sights of massive, broken, rearranged Kaiju corpses I’d seen throughout the years and even though I’d never gotten close to one, I knew it was a big job. “That’s real cool, Mr. Kafka.”

“Ahhh don’t address me like that…” He sulked before lightening up. “But thanks. Not many people say that.”

“Clean-up can be just as dangerous as a battle?”

“Yes! There are many dangers to it actually! Acid and toxins that would melt at your skin. Once I saw this guy-”

“I really don’t want the details…Mr.Kafka.” I grimaced.

“Okay.”

We rounded the corner and just like that the familiar city crumbled. Debris was everywhere. Buildings were cracked, homes were pancakes, and the Kaiju lay at the heart with lifeless eyes.

“Whoa.” Was all I said as Kafka moved a little more forward to grab something left for him. He stopped and glanced back, hanging a saw over his shoulder. “Shocking isn’t it? The sheer size of these beasts? Everyone is taken back despite the reality that we deal with them year-round.”

The Kaiju scales were so in-depth now. I could see the rigid outline, the details of the eyes, the spaces between the plates you could fit a mega bowl of ramen inside. It was incredible.

“Scared now-” Kafka seriously thought I'd back away now. Well, he seriously hoped I would. Kaiju corpses posed a major threat to those unsuited and untrained to deal with them. “HUH?”

I walked forward at a fast pace and shattered all his expectations.

“Nah stop!!!! It’s dangerous. You aren’t permitted to come any closer!” He swung his arms frontwards, trying to propel me back.

“Wow, that’s great form, Mr. Kafka. You’d make a bowling pro for sure.”

He blushed. “Y-You think so?”

In his flustered state, I swerved around him and got closer.

“Wha-no! Come back Y/n!”

‘It hurts….’

A sudden booming voice halted me and Kafka had to face-plant himself onto the ground to stop from crashing into me.

‘It hurts…please end my suffering…I only wanted to live…it hurts…I can’t take it…’

The voice faded out but the sudden pounding in my head and chest were overwhelming.

“Y/n, you have to go back! you-”

Kafka’s face drew back in utter surprise at the tears that left your eyes.

Hurray for chapter 1! I really enjoyed writing this and am super excited about the future of Kaiju No. 8!

Thank you for reading!

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