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jadekitty777 · 3 years

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On Your Six, Chapter 2

And thus we come to another day, another chapter.

Day 2: Stealing Hoodies for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 3k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Toes

Tai rolled in Sunday with a brisk breeze and a hint of last night’s rain following him. The awkward timidness he’d had, had evaporated quicker than the puddles outside, burned away into steely determination as he got right down to business. “Alright, so, how do you want me?”

Qrow nodded to his bed, the recliner having been pushed up alongside it. His kit was sitting on the nightstand. “Take off your shirt and lie down.”

“Gee, at least buy me dinner first.”

He supposed he walked right into that one.

“Hah. Let’s see if you have any jokes left after we pass the fourth hour.” He strode over to his chair, fetching a roll of paper towels on his way. “I told you we’d be at this for a while. Trust me, you’ll be glad to be in a more comfortable position.”

Qrow had calculated it. He’d have six sessions per letter. At eight to ten hours per session, he’d have a range of 48 to 60 hours per design. It seemed like a lot of time, but drawing on paper wasn’t quite the same as drawing on people. Paper didn’t need potty breaks, for example, and it tended to stay stationary the entire time. Add on to the fact this was easily the biggest project he’d ever undertaken, and he knew he was going to need every second he could get.

At least I won’t be enduring it alone, he thought as he watched Tai kick off his shoes and shirt and climb onto the bed. Qrow poured the alcohol onto one of the paper towels, and as he dabbed at the other’s skin, he noticed the face the other man was making. “Sorry, guess it’s a little strong.”

“It’s not that.” Tai said, rubbing his nose. “Uh, not to be your maid or anything but, you really need to wash your sheets.”

For a split second, Qrow was offended. Then the realization hit. “Oh. You’re smelling the ink.” He indicated the row of bottles organized in the case. The only one he’d need today, the black, was sitting next to his rotary machine. “I mix it with my own pheromones. It helps neutralize the stench.”

The omega reached for the little bottle, giving it a whiff. His eyebrows shot up and suddenly, he was staring at it like it held the meaning of life. “That’s… incredible. But won’t that give me away?”

“Not when your RO can’t smell her way out of a canteen.” They were all betas. Being the neutral dynamic meant there was no risk of ‘going soft’ on their parolee like an omega might, nor get over-protective like an alpha absolutely would. But it also meant that after Qrow finished relining the tattoos, the dramatic shift to Tai’s scent would be almost undetectable. “And if she does notice, just tell her you’re trying out a new perfume.”

“That smells like matchsticks and blueberries?”

“You’ll be fine. You’re good at improvising.”

As Tai eased himself back down, he finished sanitizing his back, then moved on to getting himself ready. He double-checked the machine, made sure the parts were in place and the wire running back to the outlet was untangled and slack. Taped the paper copy of the design over the edge of his nightstand and uncapped the ink bottle. “So, this is how this works.” Qrow said as he pulled on his gloves, “You need to be as still as possible. We’re gonna have a five-minute break every hour, give you a chance stretch and move around. We’ll stop a bit longer half way in or so to eat. But if you need me to stop for any other reason just let me know. And uh, fair warning – when I start tattooing over the letter itself, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

Tai nodded. “Got it.”

“Okay.” He dipped the needle and turned on the pen, the quiet buzzing filling the room. “Here we go.”

The moment needle met skin, he felt muscle tense under his hand. Spotted the way Tai’s toes curled in his socks and his face screwed shut. Qrow continued on slowly as he looped one line from the top of the S and connected it to down the middle, then did it again from the bottom part of the S. By the time the S had turned into an 8, the omega had relaxed again, sighing softly. He took that as a sign to continue and started coloring in the new side.

Hour one passed in complete silence.

“So, how’s it looking?” Tai asked, swiveling his head around. If he tried any harder, he might become an owl.

Qrow watched him from the stove. “Most of the line art on the top is finished.” He turned on the burners for the kettle and pot of water. “Should be fine to get the rest done in a few hours.”

“I can’t believe how fast it’s going.”

“Yeah well, this is the easy part.” He opened the pantry, eyeing over the options. “Wait until we get to coloring. I have to switch between needles for shading and clean between them.”

There was a dragging noise as one of the dining room chairs was pulled back. “I’m sorry it’s so much work. We don’t have to do all that, if you don’t want.”

Qrow was grateful only his shelves could see his scowl. He breathed out slow, pulled down the pork-flavored ramen packets, saying casually as he went back to the stove, “I mean if you’re too scared to keep going…”

“I didn’t say that! I’m just trying to be nice.” Tai grumbled the last past.

I don’t need you to be nice to me! Frustration welled in him, but he forced it back down. Getting angry wasn’t going to help. Even if this extremely complacent, easily guilted Tai made him want to go out and burn down every Gods’ damned reformatory there was. “Forget about it. I’m too much of a perfectionist to half-ass my work anyways.” He tried to brush off. But now Tai had that kicked puppy look that told him he was feeling bad, which only made Qrow feel bad in turn, so he deflected instead, “I mean, unless it’s too much for you. You’ve been quiet. Is it hurting that bad?”

“Oh, no it’s fine. I, uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t want to distract you.”

“You won’t.” He cracked the bags in half twice, tearing open the pack. “And it helps pass the time.” He dropped the ramen noodlesinto the water that was just starting to bubble and got the mugs down for tea, absolutely refusing to look at the other lest he read all over his face just how much he missed talking to him.

“Well… besides illegal tattooing in the tiniest apartment known to man on the shady side of town, what else have you been up to?”

The kettle was picked up just as it began to whistle. Like the cups filling with water, Qrow opened his mouth and let the words flow out just as easy.

As evening approached, another storm blew in. Rain drops smattered against the window every time the wind picked up, drowning out the noise of his pen. Qrow had rearranged his furniture, putting the recliner and nightstand in opposite positions so he could work on the lower half of the design in the 8. His focus was completely on the coastline coming to life over tanned skin.

“Remember that time we snuck out your window so we could put all those plastic rats on Professor Port’s porch for April Fool’s Day?”

Well, maybe not completely.

Qrow snickered. They had camped out in the bushes until dawn, just so they could take the TA’s picture when he came out to get his morning paper. “His face was priceless.”

“Not sure the punishment was worth it though.” Tai bemoaned.

“It was only a week’s detention.”

“For you. I got three month’s grounding on top of it.”

He reinked his pen. “Which you immediately broke by coming to my house every day.”

Tai took the brief pause as a chance to scratch his nose. “I never would have got caught if dad didn’t go home early that one time.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. My ears are still ringing from that lecture.” He flipped back on the pen and continued working on the islands that would split the sea from the sky.

The omega cleared his throat, deepening his voice just enough it was an almost disturbingly perfect imitation of his father, “‘If you don’t want to land yourself into juvie, then you’ll stop leading my son into a life of delinquency.’”

Qrow grinned, continuing for him and really hamming it up, “’Don’t you know my delicate boy’s future depends on finding a proper and upstanding alpha?’”

“He didn’t say delicate.” But Tai was laughing with him.

“Might as well have.” It wouldn’t have been too off-base for the Xiao Longs. They’d always been the traditional, overbearing types, trying to jumpstart every little bit of their only son’s future in every possible avenue. When they’d been young, it always seemed like Tai was going to some lesson or appointment. Swimming. Woodworking. Jeet Kune Do. It had been so excessive it had given his own mother ideas – but at least she let Raven and him choose what they wanted to learn.

After looking through the primordial alpha courses, Raven had chosen fencing.

Qrow had wanted to go with her but there was nothing like that in the omega pamphlets he’d been given. In the end, he kicked his feet all the way to his first few art lessons.

His dad had been pretty ticked off they’d wasted the money when, a few years later, puberty had Qrow shooting up past six feet and presenting as an alpha.

But that was nothing compared to the nuclear war that went off when, just shortly after his fourteen birthday, the Xiao Longs discovered Tai was an omega. The lessons stopped and the strict rules started. No going out past seven o’ clock. No cursing. No dating. No kissing. No sex. And especially, no alphas in the house. Ever.

By the time Tai was fifteen, he’d already broken every single one of them.

Qrow, who hadn’t exactly been an angel himself, thought it was hilarious and maybe encouraged him a bit more than he should have. But honestly, what did anyone expect of either of them? After being caged in like a defenseless pup, he was finally allowed break free and be a little reckless. Meanwhile, Tai refused to be shoved into that same cage, smashing through the doors all on his own. They’d been quite a pair, back in the day.

Nostalgia hit him in a wave. “How are your folks doing these days?”

“They’re fine. Dad’s started a new garden. And Mom’s been talking about renovating the old cabin house we used to vacation at. Said it would be a good place for the girls to enjoy. I was gonna help but…” Tai trailed off, his eyes glazing over a bit. “They wrote to me a few times while I’d been…. yanno.”

Something bitter built in his chest. A long-forgotten fury that had weighed on him when his mother had likewise been ripped from their family to stay at a reformatory and the only comforts he’d got was from the Xiao Longs reassuring him she’d come back as a ‘better omega’. “I’m certain they were just bursting with encouragement and support.”

“Definitely isn’t winning any motivational speech awards.” He joked humorlessly.

There was a quiet lull. Qrow took it as a chance to re-ink and stretch out the crick stiffening his fingers.

As he lowered the needle once more, Tai spoke up, hesitant. “What about you? Heard from your family at all?”

He frowned, knowing there was only one of those two people he actually cared to hear about. He indulged him regardless. “Well, you know my old man. Probably still doesn’t even know I’m gone.” He tapped his pen down, drawing the m-shapes that were meant to be a couple of gulls flying away in the sky. “As for Raven, haven’t seen her for years. Not sure she could find me.” When he paused to survey his work, he couldn’t help but think that the shapes really could have been any birds. “Even if she could, doubt she’d want to.”

The kicked puppy look was back. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Qrow lied, as if the last argument he and Raven ever had wasn’t entirely about Taiyang. But he didn’t need to know about that.

“You left? Raven you can’t leave!”

“Don’t growl at me. And anyways, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is Tai’s your mate. You guys have a daughter!”

“And that means I’m bound to him for life? We made a mistake! We were dumb kids. It happens.”

“So you just pack up your shit and tell him ‘good fucking luck’? He loves you! How can you act like that doesn’t matter?”

“…”

“Well?!”

“Really, little brother?”

“Wh-”

“If you want to go and play house with him, be my guest. But don’t project your feelings onto me. This is my life. My choice.”

“…Yeah. Yeah, I guess throwing people out of your life is a fucking choice. Just don’t be surprised when you get the same in return.”

“Are you seriously-”

“Get out. And until you get your head out of your ass, don’t bother coming back!”

Qrow taped down the bandage over Tai’s back, the antibiotic cream he’d spread along the new tattoo squishing against the adhesive. He ran through the aftercare steps almost subconsciously. “Keep this on until you go to bed. When you do take it off, wash it with warm water and soap. Do that a few times a day tomorrow and the next day too. If anything seems wrong, just call me.”

“Got it.” Tai reached for his shirt. At least he’d had the foresight to bring a button up. As he pulled it on, he gave Qrow a crooked little smile that made him look adorably boyish. “Same time next week then?”

“Uh, yeah.” He slipped off the bed, making a great show of looking for the other’s shoes. His cheeks felt a little less hot by the time he was returning to the bedside with them. “We’ll have to work on the U next. I’ll keep sending you designs, but a little direction would help.”

Tai slipped into his shoes, getting to his feet. “I don’t really have the eye for this kind of stuff. Just pick something easy.”

“Feel like I’m having a case of déjà vu here.” Qrow huffed, tapping a finger to the center of Tai’s chest. “This is your body Tai, not mine. So could you please put just a mite bit more effort into something you’re gonna have to wear the rest of your life?”

The other’s eyes widened before he looked away. He made an aborted motion towards his neck, fell short, and worried the corner edge of his collar between his fingers. “Could you do words?”

“Yeah.” He replied haltingly, taken aback by the sudden shift. “I’ll probably want to craft stencils to keep the script nice though – and no, it’s not hard.”

Tai nodded, another one of those not-quite smiles on his face. “Then I think I do know what I want for this one. I’ll send you some pictures later tonight.”

“Well… good! See was that so hard?”

“Immensely.” He answered, laying it on thick as honey.

Qrow jabbed him in the shoulder. “Don’t oversell it prima donna. You should start heading home, unless you’re planning on doing a rendition of Singing in the Rain out there.”

Tai spared a look to the window. “It’s really coming down out there, isn’t it?” The sky had darkened with the setting sun, making the already heavy clouds appear thick and ominous. Rain battered against his window at a continuous rate. The minute the omega left the complex, he was going to be soaked. “Think this’ll be okay?” He waved vaguely to his left shoulder where the tattoo began on the other side of.

“Mm, probably. But I guess a little extra cover wouldn’t hurt.” He crossed over to his little box of a closet, rummaging through the sparse selection. “This’ll work. It’s a bit oversized for me, so it should be perfect for you. Here.”

He snapped the black hoodie off its hanger, tossing it. Tai caught it. “You’re sure?”

“What are you gonna do to it? Dye it pink?”

“Well now that’s a thought. It’d match your eyes.”

“My eyes aren’t pink!”

Tai’s laughter was muffled in fabric as he gingerly slipped the hoodie on, being as mindful as possible of his back. By the time his head popped back out, his hair was all mussed up.

It was unfairly cute and Qrow tried very hard not to think about it as he walked him to the door.

Tai stepped into the hall, then paused, turning back to him. He reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey uh, thank you. For all this. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Qrow was pretty sure the touch was electric, because he was suddenly paralyzed. How he even got his jaw to work was a miracle in and of itself. “Don’t mention it.”

The omega hesitated, as if he wanted to argue, but only said, “Sure. I’ll see you soon Qrow.”

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but it was long after Tai had left the hall that he finally found the strength to close the door, slumping against the wood with a pitiful groan.

He thought he was over this. He should be over this. He wasn’t a lovesick teen anymore and this wasn’t a romantic comedy where after a bunch of wild, misleading antics, everything came together in the end. He’d lost his chance – twice over apparently. It was useless to try now.

So why did his stupid, pathetic heart still yearn?

“Come on Qrow.” He knocked his head against the door, hoping to rattle some sense into himself. “You did this for six years. You can do it again for six months.”

As he trod his way back to his bed, falling into it only to realize it smelt like Tai and would continue to every Sunday for weeks, he burrowed his head in his pillow and screamed.

Six was becoming a very unlucky number for him.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

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How to Heal a Prince

Ao3

Summary: A sick Roman was a stubborn Roman, and a stubborn Roman made the caretaking process quite the hassle. Luckily, his boyfriends had a plan- not on how to deal with a sick Roman, but on how to help a sick prince. Content: Talk of illness/mentions of stomach-aches and fevers, one mention of insecurity, mention of a burn but it’s make-believe Pairing: Romantic DLAMPS Notes: I wrote this in an hour around 1am-2am. If it’s funky, that’s why

Taking care of Roman when he was sick was a hassle (not one that any of his boyfriends minded, mind you, but a hassle nonetheless).

He didn’t like medicine and refused to take it. He couldn’t grasp the concept that an upset stomach wouldn’t be happy ingesting sweets. He didn’t understand that lying on the couch all day wasn’t wasting the day if he fell over every time he tried to do anything else. He would go between whining about his pains and trying to convince his boyfriends that he was perfectly alright at break-neck speed.

The thought of Roman being sick was worrying enough on its own, but if you were one of the people taking care of him? It was even worse.

Which is why, when Remy brought the flu home and it started to spread, everyone did their best to not give it to him. It was a bad one, and the thought of trying to care for Roman through it was a painful one on multiple levels.

But Roman wasn’t one to be left out of things, and when the choice came down to purposefully shunning Roman and awakening his insecurities about his place in their relationship or him getting sick, the group ended up choosing the latter.

They did manage to keep him from getting sick until they were all mostly recovered, at least. Virgil was still fighting off the last of the flu, and Patton had weakened himself trying to help the others even while he himself was sick, but outside of that they were all back to normal functioning capacity.

Just in time for them to worry about how they were going to help Roman when he was quickly going to become too feverish to even try to work with them. Against the norm, a delirious Roman was an even more stubborn one, and the last time they had tried to get him to take medicine in that state had ended poorly.

It was no surprise at all, really, that Janus had come up with the genius plan to get around that and every other troublesome habit sick Roman picked up. Logan had been upset that he hadn’t thought of it first.

(And then Janus kissed his cheek and reminded him he was smart too, and Logan wasn’t as upset).

Delirious Roman was stubborn because he held to his ideals more and more with each passing minute. The ideals of a prince and a knight, of strength and honor, of independence and selflessness. If they wanted Roman to work with them, they had to play into those ideals.

Roman wouldn’t take medicine because it was admitting weakness, admitting that his own immune system wasn’t strong enough to win its own war. So it couldn’t be presented as such. It had to be presented as a magical elixir, something that would only build upon his pre-existing strength, that would make him stronger because he was already strong.

It was immediately agreed that Logan was best fit to the role of wizard. And though he complained that the re-purposed witch hat (spray painted blue and covered in construction paper stars) was unnecessary and a bit stupid, Logan found Roman’s awed expression and quiet ‘really?’ right before he willingly took the medicine to be more than worth than the slight annoyance.

Roman would refuse to eat foods that weren’t covered in way too much sugar because he was his own being, strong and independent, and as such he had the right to eat whatever would fuel him for his upcoming battles- and what fueled him was sugar. Trying to convince him that chicken noodle soup gave him plenty of energy wouldn’t be work.

But convincing him that the fearsome dragon witch had taunted him and called him a coward for always falling back on the same foods to give him energy, saying he was so scared of what would happen if he branched out a little he wouldn’t even consider doing so?

That worked.

Janus liked to think he played the part of ‘knight rushing to relay this news to the brave and valiant prince Roman’ fairly well. The fact that Roman was willing to believe wholeheartedly that his natural birthmark was actually a burn from the cruel villain’s wrath helped as well.

Hearing of the taunt, Roman was almost over eager to gulp down the soup Janus presented him with. Though Janus did have to slow him a few times to ensure he didn’t upset his stomach, Roman got the entire bowl down in record time. He was rewarded with his own sense of accomplishment as well as soft forehead kiss from a grateful knight.

Roman would try to leave the couch because he didn’t want to feel useless, didn’t want to sit around when there were monsters to fight. Trying to convince him there were no monsters to fight was too difficult, and missed the main point of his defiance. Trying to convince him that he didn’t always have to be the one fighting the monsters, however? That they could do.

Or, better put, that Remy could do.

Of course, telling Roman that there had been a monster sighting near-by, at first, seemed to be a horrible move. Any chance of getting Roman to lay still seemed to have been tossed out the window.

But Remy had held firm and held him down, going on to talk not of the monsters but of the heroes spotted already heading out to fight them, of strong brave knights much like Roman and sporting many similar traits to five who were already dear to his heart. Remy talked of them going to fight the beast with Roman in mind as their inspiration, of them battling so that he might recover before he had to battle for the safety of his kingdom and their home.

Soon enough, Remy’s soothing tone and reassuring words would relax Roman, leaving him to lean closer and closer to Remy until the storyteller eventually laid them both down, holding Roman close and still telling stories just beneath his breath as they both drifted away together.

Roman would complain and swear he’s fine in the same breath because he was supposed to be both honest and tough. He had to be honorable, and for that, he had to be both truthful and strong. They just had to let him be both.

Virgil and Patton would slip in then, Virgil lying on whichever side of Roman Remy wasn’t attached to (once Remy was asleep with Roman, he was staying there until forcefully removed, and none of his boyfriends had the heart to do that) and Patton sitting so that Roman’s feet would be in his lap. They would wait, patient, for when he woke up.

Patton would affirm his every complaint with quiet murmurs of pity, accepting his pain and comforting him as best he could that he had to deal with such injustice.

Virgil would remind him that strength wasn’t always physical, asking him if he was really fine and rewarding him with a small kiss and praise for being so strong when Roman admitted he wasn’t.

The pattern would continue for a while, until Roman was no longer claiming to be fine and allowing himself to be pitied completely. Remy would be awake by then, if only partially, to confirm everything Virgil and Patton said, and to remind Roman how safe he felt in Roman’s arms.

Soon enough, the wizard would return with more important elixir, and the knight with more taunts and soup- this time enough to feed not only Roman but the storyteller who refused to give up his position at the prince’s side and the calming villagers as well. Even the wizard would eat with them, and he would be the one to take the empty bowls away as the knight moved Roman’s head into his lap and told Roman to rest.

Safety, they would all remind him when he asked, safety was why they all stayed with him, and so close. He was such a brave prince, after all, so brave and valiant and strong. Even ailing, he was safety, and he didn’t need to do anything more to earn that title.

Before he could even contemplate that, the wizard would be back, hat discarded but wise look still intact. He would slip between Roman and the storyteller with minimal grumbling from the storyteller (the least attack anyone else had gotten for trying to get in between storyteller and prince), and he would kiss the prince’s forehead and tell him to sleep, so that his strength might grow even quicker.

And snuggled between people who his hazy mind interpreted as important and special in more ways than the ones they presented themselves in, the prince would sleep, and he would recover faster than ever.

#DLAMPS #ts roman #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #ts janus #ts sleep #ts remy #sickfic #the cryptid speaks #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #sorry for the funky future tense late night me used sdkjnmvf #i hope it still reads fine

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snippyschnapps · 4 years

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We made ai dungeon try to recreate untitled goose game. It went about as well as you would expect.

It's a lovely day in the Kingdom of Larion, and you are a horrible goose. You are out on the town, looking for trouble, and if you cannot find it, you will create it. You've been invited to a feast, that will be attended by royalty and other important people, but you know that there will be some sort of ruckus going on. Chaos is good when writing a line in your notebook.

> Hjonk explores their surroundings.

You see a lot of nobles, a lot of soldiers, but you don't see anyone you recognize from your homeland. There must be over a thousand of them there, all dressed in very fancy clothes. Sometimes they talk to each other, but for the most part, they move in a very organized way. Different groups of people are moving in different directions, but for the most part, they stay grouped up.

> Hjonk checks for police.

You see a lot of soldiers, but none of them are police.

Your eyes follow the blue and red cloth emblems on their uniforms.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ is wary of the soldiers.

The soldiers all have helmets with visors, and armor that covers their legs as well as their torso.

> Hjonk says "🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️, can you create a distraction?"

"I can try"

"Go do that", Hjonk replies, "I'll be on my way when the guards come to investigate."

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ create a distraction.

You decide to start whistling the Kingdom of Kish Chase tune. You stare at the nearest group of soldiers, giving them a big grin and an enthusiastic wink. They all begin to laugh and converse with each other.

This works rather well, and you move on to another group, and then another. You see a few people give you wary looks, but most people are too entertained by your actions to do anything about you.

> Hjonk steals jewellery.

You walk up to a group of soldiers and move them with your words. One of them holds up his hand and you stop, then you approach the nearest noble-looking man. He's wearing a fancy suit, and you figure he's probably a merchant of some sort.

> Hjonk kisses his hand and steals his rings while doing so.

He watches you suspiciously, and holds out his hand. You grasp it with your left hand, and kiss it deeply.

> Hjonk successfully steal rings.

You grin and wave to your new friend, before walking off. You get a few angry looks, but most people are too distracted by what you did to the soldier.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ smile and wink at the angry people.

This works pretty well, and you start finding yourself more and more popular. Hjonk watches you with interest, and occasionally gives you tips on how to get more attention.

While the people are distracted by 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️, Hjonk pickpockets them.

It's amazing how easy this is too, once you learn the guards' routines, and how they react in certain situations. You walk around, chatting with people, and taking their belongings without them realizing it. Before they know it, you have a small bag over your shoulder.

Hjonk and you split up afterwards. You have no idea where he went, but you presume he's gone on ahead.

> Hjonk squawks loudly and waddle around with their little goose feet, making a nuisance of themself, because they are a horrible goose.

You squawk loudly and waddle around with your little goose feet, making a nuisance of yourself. You go up to random guards, and start honking. Most of them turn around to hit you, but you don't care. Some of them even get hits in, although these simply bounce off your armored body.

> Hjonk takes their bag of booty and flies into the sky. They start looking for 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️.

You find a guard who is taking a short break. You explain to him that the Kishak merchants will be furious if they can't get their stuff back.

> Hjonk says, "bet you wish you could get all this stuff back. But you won't, because I am a horrible, evil goose!"

Then they fly away, continuing to look for 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️.

You walk away from the guard station. You've stolen enough for now, and you have no idea where you are.

You wish you had something to keep yourself occupied, like a deck of cards or a book.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ steal a book from a rich persons bag.

You steal an expensive-looking leather bag, which you then walk over and drop off at the guard station.

You wait for a few minutes, but no guards come.

> Hjonk joins 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️.

You wait for a few minutes, but no guards come. You squawk at them, but they do nothing but stare at you angrily. You say "Fine! You want some payback? I'll give you some!"

> Hjonk throws a heavy brick at a guard.

You walk over to the guard, who is still knocked over from your heavy rock. You grab him by the head and pull him close enough to bite his neck.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ says "neck delicious!"

While in your monster form you are unable to read.

You walk over to the guard, who is unconscious. You pick up the satchel he has with him.

> Hjonk eviscerates the guard.

You hope you have enough bricks left. You walk over to the guard, who is certainly dead. You check, and sure enough, he's been completely eaten.

You walk over to the satchel, and open it up. You steal his weapon and some coin, as well as a few other things.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ use the weapon to taunt another guard.

You grab the weapon, and walk over to another guard. You try to intimidate them with it, but all it does is scare them.

After failing at intimidation, you throw it down, and they easily grab it.

> Hjonk steals the weapon from the guard with their horrible goose teeth.

You take the guard's blunderbuss, and walk away.

You and Hjonk decide that you'll head to a village and sell the blunderbuss and whatever else you have that's worth something. You figure you'll use the coin to get a ship and leave this Godforsaken island.

You never see any of the geese again.

> Hjonk goes to the next village with 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️.

You walk through the woods, and then eventually you come across a village. You approach the closest house with the blunderbuss, and demand that the people inside give you something for the gun. They comply, giving you a years worth of wheat in exchange for the gun and its ammunition.

You're shocked that they were so compliant, but then you remember that they're geese and that must be their nature.

You are also geese, so it's in your nature, too. You store the year's worth of wheat in your pockets, which are bigger on the inside and can hold an infinite number of things, thanks to your horrible goose magic.

You and Hjonk sell the blunderbuss, as well as the ammo for a significant sum of coin, which you can then use to buy passage on a ship.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ take over the ship.

You take over the ship, and sail it to a new island. Since you have complete control of this vessel, you decide to use it to transport criminals to another island you've discovered.

> Hjonk sells the copious amounts of jewellery that they stole earlier.

You and Hjonk package the stolen valuables in crates, and sell it to a fence on another island. You use the money to buy passage to your home island.

You arrive back on your own island. You know there's an island not far away where you can make a living as a thief, so you decide to go there.

What will you do now?

> Hjonk make a living as a thief.

You and Hjonk grow old and fat in this new island, living comfortably as professional criminals.

After many years, you and him get arrested and put in the local galleon.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ eat the guards of the galleon and steal their weapons.

You grab the gun of one the the guards who is leaning over the side and shoots him.

The other guard attempts to stab you, but you dodge and grab his weapon and stab him.

> Hjonk eats any remaining guards.

You shoot the remaining guard in the chest, and your friend eats them.

You both stand on the deck of the ship, as it departs the country.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ they all take controll of the boat and become pirate geese.

You and your two friends hold the ship for a year before being found out. You and them take the ship, and fly away to sail the seven seas as the Pirate Geese.

> Hjonk asks their other friend for their name.

They find their friend's name is Hans, and he joins you and your buddies on your quest for swashbuckling fun.

> Hjonk do pirate things.

Pirate things like stealing stuff, drinking and whoring.

You live a life of piratey buccaneering.

You save a maiden from falling off a ship, then take her back to your cabin.

You do some more...

You go to a nearby town, and rob it at swordpoint. You steal from the rich, give to the poor.

A month passes...

A year passes...

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ says "hjonk whore!"

One day, you come back to the island to find that your two friends have gotten themselves arrested.

You know it's because they tried to rob a bank, but can't resist the temptation of a good heist.

> Hjonk says "🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️... we should kill an evil king. Lets do it. You, me, and our good friend Hans."

A year passes...

Two years pass...

Three years pass...

Four years pass...

Five years pass...

Six years pass...

You finally arrive at the town where the king of some country lives.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ successfully infiltrate the castle as a prince's servant.

You enter the castle, and are led to the royal kitchen. The princess notices you, and is amazed by how many geese you are.

That evening, you sit beside the princess at dinner. You compliment her appearance, and she thanks you. It is during this conversation that you learn the princess is to become queen upon her father's death.

Hjonk, pretending to be a staff member, seduces the princess.

The next day you participate in the king's hunting party. During the hunt, you throw a knife at the king, but miss and hit a tree instead.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ do not get caught.

You make it back to the castle without getting caught.

After a few months pass...

You overhear your two friends giving away the location of the princess's bedroom.

> Hjonk brings the princess flowers.

You perform some task for the princess, and she is grateful.

Hans interrupts you and demands that you give him two bottles of alcohol in exchange for information.

> Hjonk says "Fuck off, Hans, can't you see we're busy?"

You refuse to deal with Hans, and continue your work for the princess. After all, you've done her a lot of favors.

One day, you are sitting in the garden, when you hear a noise.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ find out what the noise is.

You investigate the noise, and find Hans standing there. You immediately attack him, and while you manage to injure his foot, he stabs you in the chest and gets you before the guards.

> Hjonk uses goose magic to heal 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️.

Hans realizes he made a mistake, and the two of you rush to get medical attention. You're lucky to get out of there with your life.

After you recover, Hans is arrested for attempted treason.

You learn that the princess got away with her life (and you were thanked by the king), but Hans was executed.

You enjoy your newfound fame among other geese.

The princess is impressed by Hjonk and 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️'s heroism, and you are given a royal reward.

All is good in your world.

> Hjonk propose to the princess and 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️.

You propose to the princess. She is overwhelmed by your sudden display of romance.

She accepts, and you become king and queen.

🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ is also a monarch, because they are married to Hjonk and the princess of some small country.

Life is grand.

You grow old and they do too.

> Hjonk kills the king.

The king of your country dies, and you rule alone.

The king was selfish and corrupt, and his death will free up money for the kingdom.

> Hjonk ascends to a higher state of being and becomes an eldritch god.

You ascend to a higher state of being and become an Eldritch God.

You know that the threat of extinction has been averted, but you aren't really sure what this means...

You are the god of pure intellect, existence and logic.

You watch over all, knowing that all is well in your kingdom.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ smooch Hjonk.

One day, you and the princess embrace one another.

You're still a bit surprised by this. It's not something you expected to happen...

> Hjonk turns every living organisms into a goose-like version of itself.

You assume that Hjonk is insane.

Every living creature on the planet, with the exception of plants and a few animals, become little more than fat, feathery, many-legged, gilled creatures. Some of them molt constantly.

Parrots can now talk, and so can hummingbirds.

The only animals left are the ones with shells, such as turtles and snails.

> 🅱️🅱️🅱️🅱️ eat the turtles and snails.

The only animals left are the ones with shells, such as turtles and snails.

Turtles can no longer make their shells, so they have nothing to protect them from predators. Snails can't move very fast, so they're easy prey for the many predators that now roam the land (and the air, and the water).

Hjonk looks down on the universe and finds it lacking. In a fit of inspiration, they turn it into a goose. Everything is now goose. Time is goose. Space is goose. There is nothing but goose.

HJonk is pleased with this. They have achieved the pinnacle of goose.

This new form has its benefits, but there are some downsides.

What downsides are you concerned about?

As a god, you can't die, so you don't really care. You no longer need to sleep, eat or drink.

There is only goose.

There is only one thing to do now.

Goose it up.

consume the goose world.

This will result in the death of everyone, but eventually, HJonk will ascend to a higher form of being.

> Hjonk gooses it up.

The goose world undergoes a strange transformation.

Time and space are folded up like a map you once saw of the brain. Everything is made of pure energy, and the laws of physics don't apply.

This is good. This is goose.

Now, you just need to channel the energy and create a being of pure thought.

Your mind reaches out, searching through goose reality...

There is nothing. This reality has no more goose within it. There's no more reality to be had here.

You try again...

Nothing. No, this is all wrong.

> Hjonk says "Where did all the geese go? Is this the end of all things?"

HJonk's mind is loud and powerful. You can feel it vibrating against yours.

This is... interesting.

This might be the end of everything, but you still need to try.

> Hjonk says "GEESE. APPEAR!"

There is no goose reality. There is only reality. And in this moment, you realize that you are reality.

Everything real is goose.

Everything fake is not.

HJonk is fake.

You are fake.

The universe is fake.

Goose is great.

Fake is not great.

This is the end.

THIS IS THE END

25 notes · View notes

barnzbucky · 4 years

Text

reach for the moon - chapter 1 (Ivar x Reader)

Pairing: Ivar x reader; Hvitserk x reader (but barely)

Summary: 5 years have passed. Hvitserk finds out something Ivar did behind his back. The reader returns to Kattegat, and meets the man she longed to see the most.

Warnings: ableist talk (if feels unlike Ivar to not mention his condition when he gives his self loathing speeches, but it’s strange to write it); mention of arranged marriage; mentions of war; mentions of unrequited love; canon divergence; oc characters; fictional city; uncanon light hearted characters; cuteness at the end, but it made me feel guilty; (please, let me know if I missed something)

Word count: 2k

A/N: Hi!! Thank you so much for all the feedback in the prologue, I was beyond happy. My classes have just returned, and I also work, so I only have time to write and edit during the night, and I was supposed to edit this chapter yesterday, but I stayed up the whole night binge watching The Circle, and got nothing done 😂 Well, I hope you like the first chapter, I’m pretty proud of it 😂 please, tell me what you think and I hope you enjoy this ❤️️❤️️

masterlist | series masterlist

As the last citizen walked into the throne room, Ivar almost sighed in relief. He was most serious about his position as king, but he truly felt like everyone was working hard to make his job unbearable. He used to be known as the least patient man in Kattegat, and now, no one minded bothering him with meaningless cases. Sat in a throne, from morning to evening, listening to people talk his ear off about stupid ordeals, like neighbors stealing sheeps, or loud noises animals made during night, was not what he had in mind when he took over the city.

Battle plans and strategies were the only thing he was interested in, trade and economic deals weren’t too inconvenient, but having to deal with his subject’s complaints, no matter how insignificant, made him wonder if it was worth it.

However, Ivar knew he had to work harder than any man to earn the respect and admiration he longed for, and for a while he thought war was the only way, but life and the Gods were quick to teach him pointless conflict, in the longer run, brought only pain and loneliness, and fear was quite different from respect.

So he settled for making Kattegat the most prosperous city in Norway, a trade reference, with advantageous alliances, and satisfied citizens who had nothing to complain about. But they had become too spoiled, and complained about everything to their heart’s content.

Still, as bored as he was, Ivar could finally say he proved everyone who doubted him wrong, and he imagined his parents would be proud of him.

When the man finally left, he wasted no time, but before he could get out of the throne to eat his dinner in peace, Hvitserk stormed in looking almost angry, with Ubbe after him, unbothered.

“Would you care to explain what is this marriage nonsense?” his brother asked, almost laughing, as if it was a joke he didn’t quite understand.

Ivar merely raised his eyebrows and looked away from him to Ubbe, “I take it you told him, then?”

Ubbe told Ivar it was a bad idea to make the deal without telling Hvitserk. If he refused, the king would be angry and they would go to war. But his younger brother was so sure nothing was going to go wrong, and refused to listen to him. Now, a confrontation he didn’t want to be a part of was happening right in front of him.

“I’ll let you talk, I have nothing to do with this,” Ubbe didn’t hesitate to leave before he was forced to take a side. None of the other men bothered with him.

“I am not going to marry Tove just because you want more warriors at your disposal.” Hvitserk looked frustrated. He knew this would happen eventually, but not that soon, and certainly not without being consulted first.

“The alliance also includes fur and food,” Ivar had a mocking smirk on his face. It was funny to him, and almost insulting, that his brother thought he would force him to marry for something as meaningless as men and gold. “And I thought you liked her, Hvitserk! Surely, she is a beautiful woman, and a princess. I imagine you know her very well, what is so bad about this?”

“I like many women, brother, and I don’t need a wife!” he crossed his arms and lifted his chin, defensive and defiant at the same time.

Ivar’s hands tightly griped the arms of the throne, and he took a deep breath, trying not to get mad. His brother had chosen the worst day to do this. He was tired, hungry, cold, and in pain, and all that just made him angrier, “Good alliances are not made out only of a man’s word, Hvitserk, don’t be stupid. King Fredrick wanted his daughter to marry, and I offered him that. We all need to make sacrifices for Kattegat.”

“Why don’t you marry her, then?” the question made Ivar’s smirk return and he chuckled.

“A wife is of no use to me, yet. I have too much work to do. Any woman would be miserable to be left aside by her crippled husband in benefit of battle councils, and meetings,” he explained, still amused by his brother’s question, “All you need to do, brother, is to humor the king until the marriage is complete. After that, I’m sure you and your wife will come to an agreement.”

Hvitserk shook his head and sighed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to change Ivar’s mind, and now the arrangement was made, it was too risky to break it. He supposed Tove wouldn’t be the worst bride, and doubted she would ask him to be faithful to her if she wouldn’t be the same. He knew her well enough to say she probably wouldn’t, “I’ll think about it.”

Both knew he wouldn’t think about it. It was already decided. But Ivar could let his brother win the argument if that meant he would follow through with the wedding. So he just nodded.

After Hvitserk left, finally he had time to rest.

It took you two entire days to arrive in Kattegat.

The heavy set of fur was only vaguely familiar, heavy over your shoulders. You almost wanted to take it off. Maybe the unmistakable cold of your hometown would make reality sink in faster.

If you squinted your eyes, you could see it. The enormous coast, filled with more ships than you could count, the white, icy fog over the docks, and people coming and going at the beach. Soon you would be there, and your heart ached in your chest when you remembered how things used to be five years ago.

You laughed, remembering you didn’t want to go to Gleðiborg in the first place. If you only knew then, how wonderful and warm and comforting that town was.

Gleðiborg provided you the best years of your life. It taught you to actively live and make the best of your time in Midgard, instead of watching it all go by from afar.

You felt beautiful, confident, and happy. So unlike the person you were before, lonely and invisible.

You blinked to get your mind to calm, and focused again in the city ahead of you. Before you got into the ship, you promised yourself not to let your bad thoughts and memories control you. And you never broke a promise, even if self-made.

No matter how much you changed, your biggest wound was not yet healed. Prince Hvitserk still held your heart.

But regardless of how nervous you felt, you were as ready as you would ever be to face your past.

You thought about your last night in Kattegat, so long ago, but still so clear on your mind.

The usual heartache of seeing Hvitserk holding and kissing another woman felt worse, you never wished so bad to be in his arms as in that last time you saw him. That night, he only gave you one of his friendly smiles and politely asked you how you were. You could almost hear him saying your name.

Then, prince Ivar trusted you to his feelings and showed raw vulnerability… everything that proved he was more man than beast, you secretly promised to keep to yourself. It made you feel special and comforted that night, to be useful and needed, even knowing it only happened because you were the only one there. You were sure he didn’t even know of your existence before.

You hoped he was better. You supposed so, he was the king now. You were happy he had made it through his insecurities and finally got what he wanted.

Sooner than you thought, your ship arrived at the docks. You took a deep breath before daring to look at the city streets.

When you only had warm and sunny Gleðiborg to compare to, it was dark and cold. The sun was hidden behind the clouds and the wind hurt your skin and made your eyes burn. The smell of fish was so strong you were almost certain it was impregnating your clothes, and your head ached from the loud noise of people talking and shouting.

It wasn’t the best.

But you remembered how Kattegat looked like when you left. And this was completely different from your memory.

Back then, because of the upcoming war, everyone was rigid, tense, and more violent than usual. The city could barely hold that many people, and the food was too expensive for the poorer citizens eat more than a small meal a day, at best. Now, it seemed to be doing much better.

The market was full of people, children, the older folk, artisans, non-warriors, all vulnerable and glad, like it wasn’t before. This was far from how you imagined a place ruled by a man they called a “ruthless monster”.

When your parents visited Gleðiborg, they told you about an unforgivable king when it came to criminals and traitors, intolerant of the people’s silliness and drama, who never engaged in commoner’s celebrations like his brothers, only the ones held in the Great Hall, and was extremely impatient over everything else. But who still prioritized food and warmth over war and luxury for himself and took the time to find and make it better the problems of his kingdom.

Snapping from your thoughts, you stepped out of the ship and searched for your father in the crowd. You expected him to be there, it had been a while they announced there were people coming.

You hoped you wouldn’t have to wait for too long.

Unknown to you, you had drawn attention, standing there in perfect posture, right beside your bag. The furs around your body didn’t hide the vibrant yellow of your dress, a refreshing contrast before the gray sea.

While distracted searching for your father, someone lifted your baggage from the floor.

You turned back to see who it was and your heart almost failed you. Of course, the first person to greet you was the one you were most nervous to meet again.

Hvitserk had in his face a specific smile you had seen many times before, but never directed at you.

You almost gasped. He looked as attractive as you remembered, with the years difference, and all.

“May I help you? These seem too heavy,” his voice was comforting, and the flirty tone had you melting.

You opened a wide smile and fixed your posture, finding your new confidence self again, and didn’t bother hiding your excitement, “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m fine, how are you?” He crooked his head, as if he was confused, but the smile didn’t falter, “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” you chuckled, clearly amused. You knew you looked different, but not to the point he wouldn’t even remember who you were.

“Am I supposed to know?” he still looked confused, but had the same flirty tone and big smile.

Thinking about how no one, not even you, would have expected you to look as confident and liberated as you did now, it was shocking. You didn’t even feel like the same person, and until now, you haven’t realized it.

You couldn’t blame him for not recognizing you. You used to be friendly with each other, but being unable to look into his eyes whenever you talked, and standing in the light corners of every outing made you invisible.

“No, I supposed not,” you shook your head and laughed some more, “And yes, you may help me! Would you be so kind to walk me home?”

He held a hand out, the other holding your belongings. You stared at it. “Well, let’s go. Show me the way.”

You took his hand and started to walk to your home holding him behind you, occasionally glancing at him over your shoulder and giggling, until he had enough and decided to walk by your side. His cheeky smile made it almost impossible not to sigh.

“What is your name?”

tags: @luvjiminssi ; @ryukjin ; @hecohansen31 ; @heavenly1927 ; @youbloodymadgenius ; @ace-fiction ; @poisonous00 ; @jzr201 ; @rose1729 ; @shestrying2write ; @zuxiezendler ; @learninglemni-blog ; @didiintheblog ; @the-jess-life (if you’d like to be tagged or to be removed from the tag list, just send me a message/ask, no problem ☺️ if I wasn’t able to tag, please check if your blog is available to show on search)

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #vikings imagine #vikings fanfiction #ivar's heathen army #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar fanfiction #vikings #vikings x reader #reach for the moon #barnzbucky

96 notes · View notes

meli-productions · 4 years

Text

A Dragon’s Hoard

Another day, another prompt for the #ineffablehusbandsauweek by @ineffablehusbandsweek.

Read and comment on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651497

When her sister, Michael, became queen, Aziraphale knew it was just a matter of time before something went wrong.

It wasn’t that her sister wasn’t smart or capable of taking care of the kingdom - no, Michael led like a lioness - it was the strong opposition to her that made her rule difficult. Their mother had been well loved - but it was Michael’s strictness and her refusal to marry someone that didn’t love her had made her be seen as a difficult woman not fit to rule.

So it came as no surprise when the first cry of a dragon overhead was quickly blamed on the anger of a sorcerer towards Queen Michael.

“What can we do?” Michael asked her closest staff, her most trusted advisors. “We must send someone to slay the dragon.”

“The dragon will not be slayed,” her seer, Uriel said with a shake of her braided head. “It needs to be appeased - a tribute must be given.”

“Who? I will not put our people at risk,” said Michael, then squared her shoulders and declared. “I shall do it.”

“Send Aziraphale,” came the wheezy voice of Sandalphon. “No harm done there - she is a princess of low standing - one that not even her fiance wants. Give her to the dragon.”

Michael was hesitant, not liking the words of her advisors, but when she pitched the idea to Aziraphale, the younger woman gracefully accepted.

“You are needed here - mother wanted you to take over and care for the kingdom,” she said, a soft smile on her softer face. “Besides, what is there for me here? A husband that is more interested in status than my heart? Children given that will be ignored by their father? Let me make this sacrifice for our people.”

This is how Aziraphale and her horse Angel found themselves riding towards the craignish mouth of the cave that the dragon had been seen entering.

Aziraphale arrived at the village at the foot of the mountain in rags and with Angel being led along. The people all looked at the woman who looked so out of place with the softness and angelic light of her hazel eyes. Lecherous looks were thrown her way, but she made her way straight to the inn and to the woman in charge.

“Madame Tracy, correct?” she asked, looking at the woman with her red-orange puffy curls pinned back.

The woman beamed, “Yes, love, that is I. How can I help? Need a room?”

She shook her head, “My groundsman told me to look for you, I have a horse that I won’t be needing anytime soon - said to give her to you.”

Tracy frowned, “And why’s that, love? Giving all your earthly possessions - you’re not becoming a nun, are you? Not such a lovely thing like you.”

A little smile lit up Aziraphale’s face, “No, I’m - I’m being given as tribute to the dragon. I don’t want to put Angel in danger. Please, will you take her?”

“Oh, Princess Aziraphale - ” Tracy begun, curtsying low until her skirts were pooling around her feet.

Aziraphale tutted and got down at her side, “No, please, don’t. I won’t be a princess for much longer - there’s no need for all this fuss. Plus, I’d like to keep quiet about what I’m doing.”

Tracy pouted, straightening up, “I don’t like that you’re being sacrificed, duckie. But I’ll take your horse - at least until you come back.”

“Madame, I won’t be returning - it’s a dragon we’re talking about.”

She laughed, “Oh, dear little duckie - I have a feeling that we’ll see you back soon. An angel such as you will have no problem with a dragon like that. Take this,” she said, reaching around and handing her a little bottle of gold liquid, “It’s an old family recipe. Can undo any injury or curse. Trust me, love. It’ll come in handy either for you or that dragon.”

Doubt clouding her light eyes, Aziraphale took the elixir and tucked it into her bosom, “Thank you, Madame. Take care of my girl.”

A crowd had formed at the door as everyone tried to catch a glimpse of the newcomer and they split in the middle when she came out. The young men of the village were quick to flock to her side, offering to carry her pack, inviting her for a meal or drink, and she frowned at them trying to turn them down as politely as she could. When one got a little too handsy, she pulled out the dagger tied to her waist and pointed it at his jugular.

“I suggest,” she said, nose flaring, “that you take a step back.”

Hands held aloft before him, the man backed away - taking the rest of her followers with him and Aziraphale, now alone, squared her shoulders and made her way up the mountain.

The cave was large and Aziraphale could hear a low rumble from within, the dragon’s quiet snoring. Her own breath was coming in shaky inhales as she entered the dark cavern on wobbly knees - looking for the creature. Part of her felt bad for waking it up - speeding up her own death - but she’d rather just get it over with. She came across the smoke curling out of large nostrils and swallowed her nerves down.

“Dragon, awake,” she said, voice stronger than she expected it to be. “I am Princess Aziraphale of Eastgate and I am here as tribute for my kingdom. Take me as - as meal or prize - and leave my home alone.”

An eye of gold opened and peered at her, blinking once before the dragon unfolded itself. A puff of fire lit the nearby torches and revealed the massive being to Aziraphale. If she weren’t so terrified she’d think the creature was beautiful.

Black scales trailed into red on its underbelly and its slender form that gave it more of a serpentine look than draconic, the gold eyes looked at her from above before lowering down til its snout was right in front of Aziraphale.

“Brave little morsel,” the dragon said, its deep, rumbling voice vibrated through Aziraphale’s bones. “Willing to give herself up for her people. Tell me, what made you think that I will stop if given a snack?”

Aziraphale tensed, “I don’t know. But better me than my sister - and better a snack than sending champion after champion to attempt slaying you.”

He laughed, “You think I’d be impossible to slay.”

“I think it would be difficult and not worth the effort and death.”

A little hum escaped the dragon and his tail came up to curl around her feet, “Smart words, little princess. But a waste of time. I shan’t eat you - but I will take you as a prize.”

Aziraphale relaxed, if only a little, “Thank you. And - and you’ll leave my kingdom alone?”

Another hum, “I was just sent here, really. Don’t know what my life was before I was sent here. ‘Go East and cause some trouble, ‘s all the instructions I had. I had no intention of harming a kingdom - really just to sleep here - until you came along.”

“Then,” said Aziraphale, frowning. “What’s the point of keeping me here?”

If the dragon could shrug, he would’ve, but instead his tail tightened around Aziraphale’s ankles, “Gets boring around here - now I have someone to talk to…and you came to me, dove.”

She rolled her eyes, “Alright. But what do I call you now that we’re - roommates?”

The dragon chuckled, “My name is Crowley, your highness. And I look forward to getting to know you.”

That first night, Aziraphale and Crowley kept a wary distance. Aziraphale unfolded her pack’s worth of food and her bedroll. She offered the dragon a piece of her meal - if only due to the manners she’d been taught - but he gave a little shake of his massive head, thanking her, but refusing.

Crowley watched her as she ate, daintily and making obscene little noises that forced his eyes closed lest they show the dilation of his pupils. He didn’t remember much before his orders to come to this kingdom - but he knew that there was something wrong about ogling a woman in such a way.

Aziraphale for her part studied each scale of the dragon and wondered if they were as soft to touch as they looked. But more than that, she wondered what Crowley had meant when he said he didn’t remember much before getting orders. Questions swarmed her mind - but she kept them to the journal she brought with her.

As she curled into the warmth of her bedroll, she took a final look at the slumbering beast and smiled.

One prison to another - but at least no bothersome fiance to worry about.

The next morning, Aziraphale awoke alone.

Panic spread to every cell of her body and broke her out into a cold sweat as she scrambled to her feet. She felt stupid for trusting a dragon - a monster - and risking the lives of her people. Dagger in hand, she ventured out of the cave and, when she didn’t find any trace of the beast, nor the sight of destruction in the village below, stormed deeper within the cave.

She found Crowley curled around a fire, scorch marks around the pile of firewood, and a stack of cooked meat in a pile to his side.

“Good morning, dove,” said Crowley. “I went ahead and caught you some food. Figured beings like you have to eat every day. Also, there are some things hidden in here that you can turn into - a home for the time being.”

Taking a look around, Aziraphale noticed the old furniture that were scattered around - from a lounging chaise and mirrored vanity to the frame of an old canopy bed and dresser - it seemed that there was an old hoard lying around.

“You - you didn’t attack the town.”

Crowley did the equivalent of a scoff, “Said I wouldn’t. Won’t go against my word. Besides, I’m curious and you’re curious and the only way we’ll get answers is through one another. So we’ll make the most of our time together. Deal?”

Aziraphale lowered her dagger, studying the expression on the dragon, “Deal.”

One morning turned into a few more and the two found themselves easing into a comfortable routine and friendship. Amidst their conversations, Aziraphale found out that Crowley didn’t remember anything about what his life was like before the old witch sent him to Eastgate - couldn’t even remember if he’d always been a dragon or a snake or anything else, that he didn’t want to destroy towns because he was curious of human life. And Crowley found out about Aziraphale’s pompous former betrothed that would dismiss her in conversation - about her mother who loved her and had wanted her to be free to explore before tying her down to this man who despised her.

And as the two learned more about each other, they found themselves growing fonder - curling up on colder nights, Crowley nuzzling against Aziraphale to rouse her in the morning, and cohabiting comfortably for the weeks that came to be.

It was on one of the days that were chillier than most that found Aziraphale curled against Crowley’s warm stomach while he prodded her with his snout.

“Are you going to sleep all day?” he asked her with a laugh. “C’mon, dove. Up and at ‘em.”

She gave a little whine and patted his snout, “Just a couple more minutes, dear. You’re just so comfortable.”

“You’ve grown soft. You’re in the perfect position for me to eat you up,” said Crowley, tongue flicking out to scent her, tickling her thighs where her nightgown had ridden up.

Aziraphale turned, nuzzling against the soft underbelly and making the muscle twitch, “Mmm, you won’t eat me - you love me too much. ‘N I’m not soft - you’re the soft one. You let me live.”

The words settled heavy over them and woke Aziraphale up with a start. She pulled away from him, blushing, “Sorry, my dear - I didn’t mean.”

“You’re not wrong,” he said, head coming to rest at her side. “I did spare you and I do - I do care about you deeply. You’re the only friend I have - maybe ever had but - I can’t keep you here forever.”

She frowned, sleepy eyes coming into focus, “Crowley, I made a promise. My life for the life of my people. I can’t return now.”

“Then don’t return. Go explore the world like your mother would’ve wanted for you,” Crowley said, voice getting rougher. “I’ll keep my promise - won’t lay a claw on your kingdom and you - go live your dream.”

“That dream was of a child,” she said, curls flying with her intensity. “That hasn’t been my dream since my betrothal. I wanted to collect books,” an incredulous laugh escaped her, “a hoard of books. A little library to share with others - teach little village kids to read, but not if I can’t have a friend like you.”

Crowley was quiet, the trail of smoke curling around her until he got up, looking away from her, “Tomorrow, I want you to pack your things and go back to the village. There’s gold in the old hoard - use it to build your library.”

“But - ”

“When I return, I don’t want you here,” he said, unfurling his wings. He turned to her, gold eyes covered in a cloudy film, “Make your dream come true, dove.”

Without heeding her cries of his name, Crowley took off and left Aziraphale alone in the cavernous, echoing darkness. Tears welled in her eyes as she turned to her pack long forgotten in the corner underneath the bed frame.

She didn’t want to pack. She didn’t want to leave Crowley alone in this cold cave when all he wanted was answers. She loved him and she couldn’t just leave him.

“Well that settles it,” she said to the darkness around him. “I am not moving and he’s just going to have to deal with it.”

Crowley returned to a fire-lit cavern, Aziraphale sitting cross-legged in front of the fire with her journal in her lap. Part of him felt exasperated at the sight of her, the stubborn set of her chin and sharpness in her hazel eyes. The other part was relieved that she hadn’t left.

“I thought I told you to leave,” he said, voice rough from lack of use.

Aziraphale scoffed, “I’m not gonna leave because you throw a fit. You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

With a huff, Crowley curled around her, snout pushing until her arm rested over it, “You just have to make my life difficult, don’t you?”

“What’s the point of traveling the world by myself when the two of us could go together?” said Aziraphale, stroking the smooth scales between his eyes.

“Oh? Now I’m your noble steed?”

“Nothing noble about you, you wily thing,” she laughed, pressing a kiss along the path her hands were taking. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, alright? For now, I’d like to get warm - and I’m sure you would too.”

Crowley hummed his affirmation, tucking her in tight against him and settled in for the night.

The next morning, Aziraphale found herself in the tight coils of Crowley’s tail as he poised to strike - not towards her, but at something at the mouth of the cave.

“Leave my cave now and I won’t be picking you out of my teeth,” he said, a rumbling deep from his stomach that Aziraphale felt down to her bones.

As she tried to get a better look at the intruder, a familiar voice halted her movements.

“Foul beast. You have killed my beloved and for that you must die,” the boisterous voice echoed through the cave, followed by the sound of metal against rock. “It’s time to rid you that way her sacrifice was not in vain.”

Crowley let out a low hiss that rolled into laughter. He turned enough so he could see Aziraphale behind him and the exasperated roll of her eyes.

“Dove, you know this meathead?”

He released her at the tap of her hand on his scales, “Unfortunately. This is the betrothed I spoke to you about - Sir Gabriel.”

At the sound of her voice, Gabriel’s expression shifted into confusion, then anger, “Aziraphale? You’re still alive? The beast hasn’t eaten you?”

Aziraphale pulled the dagger out from underneath her blanket and stood at Crowley’s side, “The beast has a name - and no, he’s been nothing but hospitable. But I’m going to ask you to leave now, Gabriel, return to your manor and forget you ever saw us.”

A little incredulous scoff escaped his mouth, “Sunshine, you’re being held hostage. Let me do this for you - let me save you from your imprisonment.”

Another eyeroll and Aziraphale leaned against Crowley, making him puff proudly. At the sight, Gabriel’s nose scrunched up and he took a step back.

“He’s done something- hypnotized you or bewitched you,” he said, readying his sword. “But never fear, sunshine, I’ll save you.”

He lunged forward, sword aloft, and Aziraphale took a step forward to meet the blow. Crowley, quicker than she was, pulled her back into the safety of his tail, snapping at his assailant and taking the brunt of the attack.

“Crowley,” she said, ignoring the man now laying at their feet, impaled by teeth and the metal of his armor. “Dearest, you can’t leave me - you said we’d go explore together.”

A huff of laughter and smoke escaped Crowley’s mouth as he pressed his snout against Aziraphale’s stomach, “Sorry, dove. He was just a little quicker than me. Don’t cry - I’ll be alright and you’ll be alright, too. You’ll see.”

Tears rolled down Aziraphale’s face and fell upon her chest, rolling down the crevice between them and landing on - on a vial. She sobered up for a second and pulled out the little forgotten vial of elixir Madame Tracy had given her.

“Crowley, I’m gonna fix this - I am,” she said, popping open the vial. “Open your mouth for me, love, there you go - this should make it all better.”

The gold liquid dripped down his teeth and he swallowed thick around it. A relieved purr vibrated Aziraphale’s body and then the wound at his neck started glowing gold - then the rest of him started glowing the same gold color.

As the light disappeared, the weight on Aziraphale’s lap lessened and instead of the massive body of the dragon there was a lighter pressure of a human head - of a man’s head in her lap. He shifted, wincing in pain before opening his eyes and glancing at her, eyes wide and gold and hauntingly familiar.

“Crowley?”

“Dove? You look different, definitely bigger, what was in that drink you gave me?”

Aziraphale thought of the Madame’s words, “An elixir that can - that can heal any wound and undo any curse - my love, you were cursed, that’s why you couldn’t remember anything.”

A spark of realization blinked into his eyes and he sprung up, cupping Aziraphale’s face in his long-fingered grasp, “Cursed - dove, you’re right - I - that witch had something against my father and cursed me. I remember now. I - I’m human - wait, I’m human again and you’re here and - ”

She couldn’t fight the huge smile that spread across her face and lit up her light eyes, “Oh, Crowley. I’m so happy for you. I guess now it’s not that weird to say that I love you.”

He smiled, wide and as dangerous as his dragon’s smile had been, and leaned in to pepper kisses across her cheeks.

“You love me? Dove, I adore you,” he said, pressing kisses to her nose and brushing her lips. “Let me show you the world - let me get that library for you. The castle need not see you again - the dragon is slayed by love, just - just allow me the pleasure of being at your side.”

Aziraphale pressed a kiss of her own to the thumb sweeping across her lip, “Of course, my dear. Anything.”

Aziraphale and Crowley returned to the village and it was Madame Tracy, one hand on her hip and the other on Angel’s reins that greeted them.

“Took you long enough,” she said, handing the reins over to Aziraphale. “Come now you two lovebirds. Let's get you settled in the inn until you can settle. You will be staying in town with us, right duckies?”

And how could they argue with such a wise madame?

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hms-chill · 4 years

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The Two Princes

Summary: An AU based on the podcast The Two Princes. When Prince Henry sets out to break the mysterious curse that's destroying his kingdom, he's ready to face whatever dastardly villain or vile monster stands in his way. What he isn't prepared for are the bewildering new emotions he feels when he meets the handsome Alex, a rival prince on a quest to save his own realm. Forced to team up, the two princes soon discover that the only thing more difficult than saving their kingdoms is following their hearts.

Chapter 1: Once Upon a Time

It's late at night in the Kingdom of the West when a shadow slips quietly down the castle's east corridor. It moves away from the royal vault with the silent confidence of someone prepared for just such a heist as this one, a parcel clutched under one arm. As it disappears around a corner, a dog starts to bark. Guards clamor. The shadow grips his prize closer and runs. His heart pounds, his breath comes in gasps, his chest heaving against the heavy book clutched to it. He's almost out, almost to the village that surrounds the castle. Once there, he can find an alleyway and find out what's really going on in the kingdom. Just a sprint through the courtyard and he's there.

He rounds the corner to the courtyard and is met with a host of guards, swords drawn. Behind them, the gate he'd opened earlier is slowly closing. He could still try to escape, but he knows it won't go well.

The book is ripped from his hands, a guard already taking it back to the locked vault where it belongs, keeping both it and the knowledge it contains safe from anyone who would misuse it. Or really, anyone who would dare glance at its pages. The thief is tied up and dragged to the throne room, shoved to his knees before the queen. His head hangs, and his shoulders slump forward in defeat.

"Well, villain, you led our knights on quite a chase," Queen Mary says. "Now, take off that cloak and uncover your face. A guard pulls off the hood, and the room gasps as Prince Henry blinks in the sudden light.

"Henry?"

"Hi, Gran." With that, Mary stands, grabs her grandson by the ear, and pulls him toward their personal chambers. She ignores his complaints until they’re alone, then slams the door and turns on him.

"Oh, you are in big trouble this time. How dare you embarrass me like that?”

“I’m sorry! I know the forbidden book is, well, forbidden, but I have so many questions about the forest, and no one will talk to me, but that book—“

“Maybe no one will talk to you because there’s nothing worth talking about, Henry.”

“It’s taking over our kingdom!”

“It’s not taking over anything.”

“There are trees and vines everywhere. You can’t cross the street without tripping over them! They’re killing our crops, and the animals we hunt for food have all left, and livestock don’t have anything to eat. Our kingdom is being squeezed to death, and no one is doing anything about it. From what I've been able to put together, this all started in the heart of the forest; if we go there—“

“No one is setting foot in that forest! Besides, even if this were a problem, it wouldn’t be your responsibility. You’re a child!”

"Stop that! Stop dismissing me; I'm almost eighteen." He's snapping at her now, and he knows that's not a good idea, but he can't help it.

"Henry! Such an ungrateful child. We have a wonderful life, with a beautiful castle and marvelous parties. Until recently, our people have been moderately happy with us. We have no reason to go looking for trouble.”

"Our kingdom is on the verge of collapse! We don't need to go looking for trouble; it's found us."

“Oh, Henry." She's got a hand on his shoulder, and for a second, Henry's reminded of his Mum. But Mum hasn't talked to him like this in years; not since they got word of his dad's death. "You have so much to learn about how to rule," his gran continues, "but the first rule is simple: ‘life can be perfect, as long as you don’t look too close.’”

“Gran, that sounds... criminally incompetent."

"Well, if you don't like that lesson, How's this one? You're grounded." She's taken her hand off his shoulder, and any memory of his Mum is gone. She turns on her heel and storms out of his room, pulling the door shut behind her, and Henry hears the lock click.

"Hey! You can't lock me in my room forever!"

"You're welcome to try to climb out your window and scale down the tower again, but I warn you, there are fresh crocodiles in the moat, and I've been much too busy to feed them. Kisses!" With that, Henry knows she's gone. He sinks to the floor with a sigh, his back pressed against the door as he buries his face in his arms. There's a wet nose pressed against his cheek, and he reaches over to rub David's ears.

"Hey, bud. Looks like we're grounded. Again." David whines, climbing into Henry's lap as Henry sighs, leaning his head back against the door. He is so, so tired of being treated like a child. He's tired of being talked down to and underestimated and ignored. And all of a sudden, he misses his dad. If his dad were here, then he and Henry's mum would do something. Even better, they would have stopped the forest before it ever became a problem. They would have fought it back together years ago, and they wouldn't have to worry about anything. Gran wouldn't be driving him and everyone else up the wall, and the kingdom wouldn't be on the verge of collapse, and Henry wouldn't be alone.

Eventually, at David's gentle urging, Henry gets up from the floor and calls into bed. David hops in to join him, his head resting on Henry's side and rising and falling with Henry's breaths. Henry falls asleep eventually, but the forrest invades his dreams, twisting vines twirling through his subconscious as a rumbling invades his room. He wakes up with a start, but the rumbling continues, swirling around him until it coalesces into a whispering voice: “Come to me. Henry, come to me. Come… to the forest.”

The voice disappears in a clap of thunder, and the next thing Henry knows, he’s waking up on the floor, his gran and her entourage sweeping into the room.

"Rise and shine!" she announces, pulling him off the floor and scolding David as he barks. Henry groans.

"I had the weirdest dream last night. There was this voice—"

"That's nice, now stop talking," Gran interrupts. She throws open the curtains, and light streams into the room. Henry rubs at his eyes as she announces, "I have the most wonderful surprise for you. I was thinking about what you said, and you’re right, it is time I stopped treating you like a child and started treating you like the great prince I know you can be.”

Henry scrambles to his feet, barely able to believe his ears. “Wait, for real? You mean that? So you’re going to let me go to the forest?”

“What? Of course not; I should have been more clear. You’re not stepping foot in that forest. No, I was thinking, since you’re turning eighteen, wouldn’t it be something if I threw you a great big, once-in-a-lifetime—“

"Party." All the excitement is gone in a heartbeat.

"—Wedding!"

"What?"

"I know! Genius. People love a royal wedding. They laugh, they cry, they eat too much cake..."

"I know what you're doing. I am not getting married just because you want a distraction."

"Well obviously, silly. You're getting married for love." She tries to rest a hand on his shoulder, but Henry shrugs it off the second it lands.

"But I'm not in love."

"Oh, dear, is that what you're worried about? Don’t you give it a second thought. I’ve taken care of everything.”

“Wait, what does that mean?” It sounds almost reasonable, and coming from his gran, he doesn’t trust it for a moment. There’s a knock on the door, and despite Henry’s protestations that he’s in his pajamas and in no way ready to face anyone, his Gran throws it wide, shushing him. Shaan, her chamberlain, comes in, and Henry relaxes a bit. Shaan has always been the most understanding of his grandmother’s staffers, so maybe he’ll be able to talk some sense into her.

“Have you finished the proclamation?” she asks, looking smug.

“Yes, your majesty. Would you like to hear it?”

“If you would be so good.”

He clears his throat, unrolling a scroll in front of his face. “To all the eligible young ladies of the kingdom, are you tired of being unmarried and unloved? Do you crave meaning in your otherwise meaningless existence? Then bring your dancing shoes, an itemized dowry, and a list of family connections to her majesty’s royal ball, where you can win the opportunity to marry His Royal Highness Prince Henry George Edward James Fox Moutchristen-Windsor—“

“What?!” Henry interrupts, and Shaan spares him an apologetic glance before going back to reading.

“--That’s right, at the conclusion of tonight’s ball, the prince will pluck one lucky lady from a life of obscurity and mediocrity by joining with her in holy matrimony. Draw bridge opens promptly at eight PM.”

Henry gawks at his grandmother and Shaan, but his grandmother just smiles. “Perfection. Send it out immediately.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Shaan turns to the door, sparing a last apologetic look toward Henry.

“Wait, no, you can’t—“ the door shuts, and Henry turns to his gran. “Call him back. Gran, call him back right now.”

“Don’t be silly. Shaan is a very busy man, and between you and me, I do not pay him enough for what I put him through. Now. Let’s figure out what you’re going to wear to the ball. I know this is a rather bold suggestion, but I’m thinking: ruffles.”

She holds up a disgustingly ruffled shirt, and Henry swats it away. “Gran, enough! No! I don’t care what scheme you’ve concocted or what kind of distraction you need, but I’m not tying the knot with a complete stranger just so you don’t have to face the reality of what’s happening to our kingdom! I refuse to be a part of this insanity any longer. Do you understand? This is me, putting my foot down. I’m not getting married, and I will go to the forest and break the curse, and there is nothing you or anyone else can do to stop me.”

She sighs, coming closer to rest a hand on his shoulder again. “Oh, Henry. I’m so sorry. I know how ridiculous I must seem to you, but you must believe me, I only want what’s best for you.”

With that, Henry feels all the fight drain out of him. His shoulders slump, and when he speaks, his voice is quieter than it has been all morning. “I know.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you, nothing. You have to believe that.” Her hand moves to cup his face, and Henry closes his eyes and lets himself believe she actually means it.

“I do. Of course I do.”

“Good. I knew you’d understand.” Her tone is suddenly cold again, and Henry has only a split second to process the shift before she calls, “guards!”

“Wait, what? What are you doing?” He demands, moving away and watching as armored guards fill his room.

“Escort Prince Henry to the royal ballroom and tie him to his throne.”

"What?"

“Come this way, your highness,” a guard tells him, grabbing his arm. Henry struggles, but just like last night, he’s no match for the guard.

“No! Hey! Get your hands off of me!”

“I’ll see you at the ball, sweetie,” his gran says, waving as he’s dragged out the door. David’s barking furiously, but another guard has him held back, so he’s powerless to help Henry.

“You can’t tie me up for the rest of the day! What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Just hold it, dear. Hold it. For love,” she coos, and the door shuts behind them. Henry gives up fighting, his mind going into overdrive. Maybe he can convince one of the guards to let him go. Philip, the captain of the guard, used to play with him when they were kids. But he sees Philip in the throne room and knows it’s useless. Philip won’t see anything wrong with of all of this. Maybe he can wriggle out of his ropes, or David will come chew him free. Maybe… but he already knows escape from here is hopeless. Once the ball starts, the room will be full enough that there’s a chance he can make his escape. And his gran can’t marry him off if he refuses to go through with the ceremony. He’ll have a chance then, but for now, he’s resigned to waiting.

He watches the clock tick, and at eight PM, the ballroom starts to fill with ladies from around the kingdom. Shaan, stationed behind him, announces them as they come in.

“The lady Verbena. The lady Beatrice. The lady Dorcus.”

From his other side, Henry’s Gran leans forward and says “do try to smile, love. No girl wants a sour puss for a husband.”

“Maybe I’d feel like smiling if these ropes weren’t cutting off my circulation,” he growls at her. She’d come in and secured them herself just before the party, and she’s stronger than she looks.

“The lady June,” Shaan announces, and Henry turns to look at her. He can see her take in the situation for a moment, then that calculating look drops away in favor of a big smile and wide eyes.

“OMG, your highness! It is so great to finally meet you. I am fangirling so hard right now! I am like…obsessed with you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Henry deadpans. She gives him what might be a sympathetic look before it disappears again behind a bubbly mask.

“Can I just say, I love your outfit? The whole pajamas-and-bondage thing is like…so brave.”

“Um, Lady June, why don’t you tell the prince all about that extremely interesting book you were reading yesterday?” His gran asks, her tone belying just a bit of annoyance. June looks at her with wide eyes.

“Book? What book?”

“The book, dear. The one we discussed,” his gran says, and based on her tone, Henry knows her eyes must be boring holes into June right now. June steadfastly maintains her facade of innocence.

“Oh, right! The book, wink wink. So the other day, I was totally reading this amazing book all about wagons—“

“Dragons.” At this point, Gran just sounds defeated.

“Right, dragons! I’m just like…so obsessed with dragons. I looove reading about them, and talking about them, and spending my life with a certain prince who also has a fondness for smelly, disgusting, fire breathing monsters.” She’s leaned in close to the throne now, and only Henry can hear when she murmurs an apology. Maybe, if he has to pick someone at the end of the night, he’ll pick her, and she’ll help him find a way to escape the wedding. He murmurs a thanks as his gran claps her hands.

“Well, you hear that, Henry? Lady June likes books and dragons! Two of your favorite things!” Gran exclaims, though she and Henry can both tell that the character June’s playing is anything but interested in either of those topics.

“Uh huh. What was the name of the book?”

“Oh, Henry, don’t badger the poor girl—“ his gran starts, but June is having none of it.

She pulls back, the fake smiley persona reinstated. “Trick question! Books don’t have titles.”

“Alright, Lady June, thanks for stopping by. Be sure to enjoy the rest of the party.”

“You didn’t really think that was going to work, did you?”

“Honestly, I thought the odds were 50/50. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Lady Marjorie just arrived, and I have to go say something devastating about her outfit. Don’t fall in love without me!” With that, she sails off into the crowd, leaving Henry to tug at the ropes still tying him to the throne.

“Ugh, this night is never going to end,” he groans aloud.

“Unfortunately not, your highness.” Shaan’s voice from behind him makes him jump, then blush.

“Sorry, Shaan. I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“It’s quite alright. I often forget I’m here myself. You know, you may find this hard to believe, but I was in a…similar situation when I was your age.”

“Oh, really? Did your grandmother tie you to a throne in your pajamas and parade you in front of every girl in the kingdom like a prize pig at a county fair?” He doesn’t mean to snap at Shaan, and he doesn’t deserve it, but Henry can’t fight it. It’s just all getting to be too much, and he’s not sure how long he can sit here before he starts screaming.

“I meant, I too was once expected to marry. And it brought great shame on my family when I refused.”

“You don’t need to lay on the guilt about me doing my duty; Gran’s got that covered, thanks.”

“On the contrary, your highness. While the decision not to marry was a difficult one, I have always stood by my choice, despite what it may have cost me over the years.”

Henry softens. When he looks over at Shaan, the older man is looking out over the crowd, but his usually stoic face is a bit sadder than usual. “Oh. Really? So, you never fell in love? With anyone?”

That gets a bit of a chuckle out of Shaan, though it’s still tinged with sadness. “Oh, goodness, yes. I fell in love many times.”

“Then why didn’t you get married?”

“Because the kingdom was not quite ready for such a marriage.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“I think your royal highness does.”

“Uh, no, actually, I…I don’t. I mean, I don’t want to get married because I’m seventeen. I mean, whatever you want to get up to in your personal life is up to you; I’m not judging. I—you shouldn’t assume?”

“No, of course not, your highness. Forgive me, if I misspoke.” Any hint of emotion has been wiped off Shaan’s face, but Henry only gets a moment to miss it before Shaan asks, “shall I fetch your grandmother? We still have quite the assortment of eligible ladies waiting to—“

He’s interrupted by a commotion at the front of the room, and Henry strains to see over the mass of people.

“What was that?” The room shakes, and somewhere, he hears June scream as a thick green vine shoves its way through the main door. It bursts into smaller ones, growing more and more quickly as it encompasses the room. Henry can hear swords being drawn amidst the chaos, but he already knows deep down that they won’t do any good.

“The forest is invading! Everyone, take cover. The castle is under attack!” It’s Philip’s voice, and for all the ways he’s hurt him recently, Henry hopes he’s alright. The vines break through the floor, carrying broken pieces of mosaic tile to the ceiling as they curl round pillars and people alike. The guards rush forward to attack, screaming and hacking, but the vines grow to encompass their swords. Then something starts snaking up his leg, and Henry looks down in horror to see the bottom of the throne covered in twisting, snaking vines. He struggles against his restraints, but there’s nothing he can do but groan and tug.

“Somebody, help me!”

No one can hear him, not over the chaos. He pulls and pulls, but suddenly, there’s a sawing noise beside him. He turns to see Shaan carefully cutting at the ropes tying him to the chair, working with the same mechanical precision he applies to everything.

“Thank you,” Henry says, breathless. Shaan nods as Henry pulls himself free, massaging the sore places on his wrists where he’s been tugging against the ropes all night.

“Of course. Now here, take this.”

“What is this?”

“A map. It will take you straight to the Hollow in the heart of the forest, but you must leave immediately. Here. Take my sword—“

“No! I can’t just leave you all in the middle of a battle—“

“You must. The real battle, the battle that will decide the fate of everyone in this kingdom, can only be fought in the Hollow, and only you can fight it.”

“What do you mean?” Henry’s trying to stay calm, but he can hear the fear in his voice.

“There is a prophecy that your grandmother has kept hidden from you. If you want to break the curse, you must get to the Hollow, and once you are there, you must—“

“Look out for the chandelier!” Henry’s not sure who shouts, but suddenly Shaan is rushing forward, shoving Henry out of the way as a chandelier crashes down onto him.

“Shaan!” Henry screams, running to where his head and shoulders are just visible beneath the broken chandelier. “Shaan, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Shaan’s eyes are unfocused, and he’s clearly struggling to hold his head up. Then his eyes lock onto Henry’s, and he gasps, “go. To the Hollow.”

He slumps down, his eyes closing, and Henry allows himself a single sob before he’s taking Shaan’s sword and running. He goes to his room, changing pajamas for a light armor and finding a sheath for the sword. David whines at his feet, and Henry rubs his ears for a moment before sprinting to the kitchen, where he fills a saddlebag with whatever food he can grab. Then he’s on horseback, galloping away from his home as vines continue to snake around it, though as he looks back over his shoulder, he sees them slowly retreating. He just spurs the horse on, riding as hard as he can for the darkness of the forest.

He urges his horse on, over a last hill and to the pathway through the forest. They’re almost inside when the horse rears on his hind legs, dumping Henry flat on his ass in front of the forest and galloping away with most of the food and supplies. Henry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clutching the strap of a satchel that holds the map and a day’s worth of food.

“Okay. So it’ll just take me a little longer to get to the Hollow. I’ve got two legs and a sword and this map; I can do this.” He’s just going to march into a cursed forest to do battle with an unknown evil that’s been terrorizing his kingdom for as long as anyone can remember. What could possibly go wrong?

He could swear he hears the forest whisper his name, the same voice that had invaded his dream the night before. He swallows down the fear before it overtakes him and draws Shaan’s sword.

“Alright, forest. You want me? Here I come."

On AO3

Notes:

When I was thinking about writing in June, I was like "what's the gayest thing I can think of?" and it was this. The whole thing was supposed to be out this month, but then I was protesting and busy, but here we are. -- Also, sometimes you text the group chat "Bi Shaan: thoughts?" and get a bunch of support, so there's my justification for queer Shaan who looks after Henry. The group chat said I could.

Want to support the Hannah-Makes-Art fund? You can tip me in ko-fi here!

#my fic: rwrb #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #rwrb au #red white and royal au #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue au #red white and royal blue fic #red white and royal blue #rwrb

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stars-and-rose · 5 years

Text

The Sides Become the Roman Protection Squad

ITS ROMANS BIRTHDAY!!MY FAVORITE BOYS BIRTHDAY!!!! DID Y’ALL REALLY THINK I WASN’T GOING TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR HIM???

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sanders Sides

Parings: it was meant to be platonic LAMP (because that’s what I’ve been doing for these birthday one-shots) but it can be read as romantic because I cannot control myself

Summary: Patton, Virgil and Logan have been preparing for Romans birthday for an entire month. If only they could find the birthday boy.

Word Count: 2,337

Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, bleeding, mentions of surgery and stitches, mention of needles, Virgil curses out dragon, character is unconscious

"Patton, will you please stop pacing?"

Patton stopped in his tracks and turned to face Logan, who was leaning against the doorframe with the faintest amount of concern in his eyes. "Sorry, Lo! I'm just a little worried."

"You're more worried than I am," Virgil called from his position on the couch. "Which is saying something. What's going on?"

"Roman still hasn't come down yet!"

"It is his birthday. Knowing Roman, he's catching up on his beauty sleep. Nothing worth you fretting." Logan reasoned.

Patton sighed, plopping down in an armchair. "You're probably right- you usually are."

In the corner of his eyes, Patton noticed Virgil fiddling with his hoodie strings. "Now that Patton's mentioned it, I've felt off all morning. I thought it was the normal anxiety with deadlines and Thomas being social, but maybe it's not."

Logan sighed, pinching his nose. "If it will calm both of your nerves, I will go check on Roman."

Patton flashed the logical side his brightest smile. "If it's not too much of bother, could you?"

Logan gave a short nod, then turned and walked up the stairs. Patton watched him go until he was out of sight. Then, he looked over at Virgil. "Are you okay, Kiddo?"

Virgil nodded, letting go of his hoodie strings. "I'm good. What did you make for Roman's birthday?"

"Red velvet macarons! I've wanted to make macarons for a while now, and I know Roman loves red velvet, I decided to give it a shot! They turned out really nice, and I was able to make a gold paint splatter effect on them too!"

"Roman's gonna love them, Pat," Virgil replied.

Patton grinned. "I sure hope he does! What about you, Virge? What did you make?"

A soft smirk formed on Virgil's face. "I need to have some secrets, Pat. What I will tell you, however, is that I'm surprised my fingers are still in one piece after how many times I stabbed myself with a needle."

As Patton winced at the thought, footsteps echoed down the staircase. Both the moral and anxious sides turned to see Logan coming downstairs. "Is-"

Patton's voice died in his throat when he saw the troubled look on Logan's face. "Roman's not in his room-"

Virgil took a sharp intake of breath. "-then where-"

"-but the door to the imagination was left open."

Patton bounced up from his chair, taking the few steps between him and Virgil and resting a hand on the other's shoulder. "Well, Roman's probably in his domain! I think we should go check on him. Is that okay, Virgil?"

"Yeah. Let's go drag Princey out of his kingdom." Virgil decided, standing and shrugging Patton's hand off his shoulder. Patton glanced at Logan, who's concerned look was growing larger by the second. It was no secret that Virgil got defensive when he was anxious. The sooner they found Roman, the better.

Silently, Patton and Virgil followed Logan up the stairs. The door to the imagination was next to Roman's room. Golden light peaked from the cracked open wooden door.

Patton pulled open the door and stepped into the golden light. He'd stepped through his door before- they all had. Roman regularly dragged the other sides through his beautiful kingdom.

Or, at least, what was usually beautiful.

Patton's mouth hung open as he studied the scenery. What was usually a crystal blue was a dark storm. What was usually lush green grass and bright flowers was dead grass and thorns. The air, which usually smelled sweet, reeked of death.

"Something's wrong. Something's very wrong." Virgil mumbled, his finger tangled through his hoodie strings.

"The imagination is linked directly to Roman's well-being. Which would mean-"

"Logan, shut up. I don't need to hear that." Virgil snapped.

Patton felt his heartbeat quicken.

"I'm going to kill that prick," Virgil muttered, dark eyes scanning the area. Suddenly, he took off running.

"Virgil!" Patton yelled. "What- where are you going?"

Logan grabbed Patton's arm. "Virgil has the best instincts out of the four of us. If he believes he can find Roman, I reckon we should follow him."

Patton nodded, and he and Logan chased after Virgil. They raced through the brush, thorns tearing through clothing and heavy breaths escaping from their mouths. They almost crashed into Virgil, who had frozen in a mix of horror and fear.

When Patton saw what Virgil had, he almost vomited.

A dragon stood in the clearing, with voids for eyes and knives for teeth. The monster's scales were a hideous green that clashed with its red claws.

Wait. Its claws weren't naturally red. They were covered in blood.

Roman's blood.

The prince was crumbled in a heap on the ground, his sword inches away from his hand. His white shirt was covered in dark stains, and blood dripped down his cheek and clotted in his hair. His eyes were closed. His chest was barely moving.

Not a single word was uttered between the other three sides- none were needed. They simply burst into action.

Patton ran for Roman's unconscious body, throwing his cardigan behind him to Logan. When he reached the creative side, he bent down and scooped the prince into his arms. Blood splashed against his own shirt, but Patton didn't have the time to care. Roman's breathing was slowing and blood was still spilling. From his position in Patton's arms, Roman's wounds were visible. A gash across his chest and a twin cuts on his cheek and behind his hairline were causing most of the blood loss. Countless other bruises and nicks covered Roman's body.

With the prince's broken body cradled to his chest, Patton brought Roman back to Logan, who had torn Patton's cardigan into strips. As soon Patton laid Roman on the ground, Logan began to press the fabric to his wounds. The gray quickly turned red.

Meanwhile, Virgil had picked up Roman's abandoned sword. The anxious slide wielded the blade with flames in his eyes. "HEY FUCKER!"

The dragon's attention left the prince and the moral side and devoted itself purely to emo. Virgil felt the panic rise in this throat as he stared into the dragon's midnight eyes, but he swallowed it and shouted, "YEAH, I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

The green beast cocked its head in surprise. The dragon had apparently not been prepared for the prince to have backup.

Virgil waved Roman's sword around, surprised with how right it felt in his hand. "Fight or flight," he muttered under his breath and shook away the fear clogging his throat. He was not going to submit to his fear and panic. Roman needed him. So, he tightened his grip on the sword and charged for the dragon.

Patton had just handed Roman over to Logan when he saw Virgil going for the dragon. Not exactly thinking it through, Patton called out, "Hey! Mr. Dragon!"

The beast turned it's attention away from Virgil and stared at Patton. Taking a feet steps away from Logan and the injured prince, Patton yelled, "You know, it's not nice to attack people."

The dragon looked like it was lost in its confusion. It definitely wasn't prepared be lectured for attacking the loud prince.

"It's actually quite rude to try and kill people." Patton continued, crossing his arms. He kept his eyes on the beast but kept checking the corners of his vision for the speck of violet. "There are much more civil ways to handle issues than violence. Which is a bit hypocritical, I guess."

As the Dragon was trying to understand what the moral side had said, a sharp pain stung from its chest. It looked down to see the angry side from earlier pulling the sword from its gut. Virgil glared up at the dragon, his hands shaking and his grip of the now bloody weapon slipping.

Then, because things refused to make any sort of sense in the imagination, the Dragon exploding into golden light, leaving only a pile of ashes behind.

Virgil kicked the remains. "Eat shit."

Patton ran over to Virgil, checking his kiddo for any injuries. Other than a scrap on his knee from a thorn bush, Virgil was in good shape. The anxious side stared at Patton, obviously trying to comprehend what he had just done. "Did I-"

"-just slay the dragon?" Patton finished, a soft smile forming on his face. "You did. You really are our protector, Vee."

Virgil shook his head, hands still quaking a bit. "I am not thinking about that. Nope, not happening. What I'm going to do is chew out Roman for getting himself injured and scaring us and making me fight a god damn dragon."

"I suggest you refrain from chewing Roman out for now. He is in, for lack of a better term, shit shape." Logan called out, the said side held in his arms. "I managed to stop the bleeding, but I believe he needs stitches for the incision on his chest."

"I could probably do it. I sew my clothes, what's the difference between sewing cloth and someone's skin?"

"There are a thousand differences-"

"Sarcasm. But I think I can do it. But let's get him out of here before I panic and lose whatever adrenaline rush I'm on."

The three sides and their injured counterpart made the trek back to the door, the thorns fading into dust behind him and color returning to the sky. As soon as they entered the mind palace, Virgil scurried to his room to grab his supplies. Logan laid Roman, who was still out, on the couch that Virgil had been laying on only hours again.

"Patton, can you get me some fresh towels and some hydrogen peroxide?" Logan asked, removing the scraps of Patton's cardigan from Roman's wounds?

"Hydrogen peroxide?"

"Rubbing alcohol."

"Oh, gotcha Lo!" Patton ran off to the bathroom the four of them shared. He had to push away both Virgil and Roman's make-up bags to find the bottle he was looking for. Grabbing a towel from the cabinet, Patton ran back to Logan, giving the logical side the supplies.

As Logan began to clean Roman's gashes, Virgil appeared from upstairs, holding a black box. "Here starts the beginning and end of my career as a surgeon."

"Are you sure about this, Kiddo?"

Virgil nodded, only hesitating for a few seconds. "Someone has to help this dumbass. Besides, it gives me something to put my nervous energy into."

Patton placed a hand on his shoulders. "I'm proud of you, Virge."

"Thanks, Popstar." Virgil shot Patton a finger gun with his free hand. Logan stood from Roman's side.

"I finished cleaning his wounds. He's ready for stitches, Virgil, as long as you are."

As Virgil walked over to the creative side, Logan came closer to Patton. "Would you like to get your macarons from the refrigerator and help me collect other food?"

"Oh! Sure, Lo! But-"

"I believe it's in our best interests if we allow Virgil to do this alone. He will only feel pressure if we sit here and observe. Furthermore, I doubt you would feel any delight in watching."

Patton let out a quiet laugh. "Right as always, Lo."

The two sides left for the kitchen, Patton pulling out his macarons and Logan searched the cabinets for what seemed to be protein bars. "Roman will need sugar when he awakens. It will help combat the effects of his blood loss."

"Good thing I made all these macarons!" Patton replied, pulling the cover of his tray. Logan glanced over at the desserts.

"Those look delectable, Patton. You've truly outdone yourself."

A bright smile flashed on Patton's features. "Thanks! I wish that we were eating them to celebrate Roman's birthday, not to celebrate that he's not dead."

Logan let out a humming noise as he set down the box of protein bars on the table. "That is an agreeable statement. Do you have everything you need Patton? I think Virgil will be done by now."

Patton gripped his tray. "Mmhmm!"

When they entered the commons, Patton almost let out a squeak of joy. Virgil had finished the impromptu surgery and currently had the creative side laying on the couch with his head in his lap. Virgil's fingers were brushing some of the blood out of Roman's hair.

Then, Patton heard the myriad of curses coming from Virgil's mouth, and the moment became a bit less sweet. Though, Patton decided that Virgil deserved some cursing after the day.

Logan sat down on the left of Virgil, handing the anxious side a protein bar. Virgil took the bar gratefully and bit into it. Patton sat on Virgil's right, leaning on the anxious side but adjusting himself so Roman still had room. He reached for the remote, and silently put on Heracles.

Halfway through "Go the Distance", Patton noticed Roman's eyes slowly opening, confusion written in the brown.

"Hey, Kiddo," Patton said. Virgil looked down at the side laying his lap, a relieved smile appearing for a few seconds. Logan's shoulders finally relaxed.

"What- there was the dragon- how?" Roman mumbled.

"We got you out of there, Princey," Virgil responded, wiping some of the dried blood from Roman's face.

There were a thousand questions brimming in Patton's mind, but something told him it wasn't the time to ask. Roman looked so vulnerable, not even shying from Virgil's grip or demanding that he was all right. A glance between Logan and Virgil showed they both agreed. Questions were for later.

Instead, Patton pulled out the macaroons and handed one to Roman. "Happy birthday Ro."

The creative side blinked. "It's my birthday?"

"Indeed," Logan said, leaning into Virgil and resting his hand against Roman's side.

"Yeah, you went and almost died on your birthday," Virgil muttered.

"Let's worry about that later, okay?" Patton replied.

Roman nodded, taking a bite from the macaron. "These are delightful, Padre. Thank you."

Patton smiled down at him. "Of course, anything for our prince."

With Heracles playing the background and macarons being devoured, Patton allowed his smile to remain. Roman was safe, he was happy, and the four sides were going to celebrate the hell out of their prince.

As soon as they were done cuddling, of course.

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occasionalfics · 5 years

Text

worth my while // p. 6

main masterlist | thor masterlist | ko-fi | p. 5 | p. 7

Summary: After being banished from his home, Thor Odinson has stopped at nothing to prove himself worthy of his throne, title, and power.

After losing the love of your life, you turned to a power you didn’t understand.You know you shouldn’t get involved.

But how could you not?

Pairing: Thor x Reader (Hercules au…kind of…)

A/N: This one...hits all the feels. The very last scene was one I’d had planned the ENTIRE time so it’s arguably one of my favorites.

Warnings: Violence, lots of angst, borderline abuse and definite manipulation, eventual smut, way too many feels, major character death (eventually). A little more harassment on Hades’ part this time around. This chapter has slightly NSFW content, but nothing is explicit this time. Read at your own discretion.

Words: 3,794

Hades causes disaster after disaster, week after week. He doesn’t throw you into the mess of things again, thankfully, but he keeps you close and makes you watch the Avengers closely. He quizzes you on them after, insists you spend more time with them.

You don’t give him details of your time with Thor, but he definitely knows something is going on. And he’s using it.

You knowing that drives you to Thor more and more, but it also makes you close yourself off once you’re around him. You crave being close to Thor because he’s kind, because he cares, because he treats you well. Because, clearly, being friends isn’t what he wants. It’s not really what you want, either.

But once you’re in his presence, you’re constantly aware of the things Hades can use against him. You’re constantly thinking of all the ways Hades can use you against Thor.

If you keep a good amount of distance, maybe he can come out of his unharmed. Maybe you can come out of it free. Maybe you’ll be able to make amends, once Hades is done with you.

If he’ll ever be done with you, that is.

You know the team pretty well now. Well enough that Sam and Thor invite you to dinner, which means sixteen pizzas in the living room where you’d waited for Thor that one afternoon.

You settle on the couch next to Thor. Right up against him. He’s so warm, and far too comfortable. You pull your legs up under you and rest your head on his shoulder, completely aware of the eyes around the room that fall on the two of you.

You don’t know what he’s told the team about you, but you’re sure they know something is up just like Hades does. Only, they’re Avengers. They’re good people. Which is something you wouldn’t have said about them before all of this started.

Steve hands you a plate with two slices of pizza, and you smile at him. “Thanks,” you say, and he nods.

Thor takes his plate, puts it in his lap, and stretches an arm across your shoulders.

“Any requests?” Stark asks. His eyes fall on you, too, but not because you’re cuddling with someone you’d verbally swear is only your friend. “You’re the guest of honor. Favorite movie?” he asks.

You pause. This is the first almost-nice thing Stark has thrown your way so far. To be fair to him, you haven’t had many personal interactions, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s wary of your sudden presence around his teammate. Someone in his employ.

With a shrug, you tell him, “I’m easy to please.”

“Bet you are,” he says quickly, before looking around the room.

Thor nudges you softly, but you just roll your eyes. Hades has said much worse things about you to your face, so you let Stark’s words roll off your shoulders easily.

You eat your pizza quietly while the group picks a movie. They end up going with Clint’s pick: Moonrise Kingdom. Sam questions him, but Clint just says, “I like Wes Anderson,” with a shrug.

Almost too quickly, voices are asking questions. Too loudly. You can’t hear the movie, but you’re not about to go telling The Avengers to shut the hell up. You look at Thor, and he just nods and eats his pizza.

This must be normal for them, you realize. They don’t just watch movies like normal people. They’re not normal people. Two are genetically modified (Bruce Banner is across the room, beside Stark on a two-seat couch), two are spies (Black Widow is on the floor with Clint), at least three are Veterans of some branch of the military, and the one you’re currently sitting against is a literal alien.

So who cares if they talk over a movie you’ve never seen? It’s not like the movie won’t exist outside of this building, should you want to know what actually does happen later.

Suddenly, all eyes are on you again. You blink at them - mostly Sam, because you know him better than everyone except for Thor - and he chuckles.

“Nat asked if you wanted more pizza,” he says.

“Oh,” you say, looking down at your empty plate. You shake your head. “I’m okay, thanks.”

“We’ve got way too much,” Steve says. “You sure you don’t just want one more?”

You look at the boxes still stacked, one on top of the other. There are a few that’ve been emptied, but most of them are still full. Thor’s told you he eats a lot, and you’re sure someone with an enhanced metabolism like Steve’s probably eats a lot, too. But sixteen pizzas? That is a lot.

Still, you think one extra piece might not be the worst thing.

So you sigh and say, “Fine. Just plain, thanks.” You hand your plate to Sam, who hands it to Steve, who plates another piece before sending it back.

You’ve got a single nibble in your mouth before Stark turns to you.

“So, (Y/N). What is it you do for a living?” he asks.

Thor clears his throat, but you beat him to the answer.

“I’m a maid.”

Again, not the entire truth. But you remember telling Thor that much, so you may as well stick to that story.

Stark nods, but doesn’t seem impressed. You’re not sure why he would. He’s a fucking billionaire. He’s got maids, you’re sure. Maybe that Irish lady is one of them.

“Now tell me, what’s a maid doing getting pushed off a skyscraper in the middle of a mega-monster battle?” he asks.

“Stark,” Thor warns, the vibrations of his voice tickling your side.

But you just turn to look at him, giving him a warning look because you can answer for yourself. You don’t want Thor defending your honor or anything. That only leads to the kind of mess you are actively trying to avoid.

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and some jerk chased me to the roof of the building,” you say. “I was just lucky that Thor was there to catch me.”

“He wasn’t,” Stark says shortly.

You don’t miss his point. But he does look back at the television. Steve glares at him, but Stark barely seems to notice.

You bite your lip and consider leaving, but being right up against Thor makes moving so difficult. Going home to your empty apartment for the night seems so wrong.

You know that, if Stark really wanted you gone, he’d have you escorted out of the building. It is his building, after all. Maybe you should tell him that you sided with him on the Accords deal, but you’re not sure what kind of a touchy subject that is right now. It’s not part of the conversation going on around you, so you decide to hold off.

If it never comes up, that’s fine. You don’t need to win over Stark, anyway. Hades plans on tearing this team apart, so you trying to wiggle your way into their good graces is probably not the best idea.

When the movie is over, you offer to help clean up, but the team refuses. They tell you to sit back and relax, because you’re Thor’s guest. Sam grabs your empty plate, then Thor’s, then takes a stack of them to the kitchen around the corner. Steve and Tony take care of the pizza boxes. Clint and Nat handle cups and napkins. Bruce turns the television back to local news.

Thor stands. He turns and holds a hand out to you. You look toward the kitchen, wondering what’s planned next for one of these pizza-movie evenings, but Thor tells you, “They won’t miss us, I promise.”

So you take his hand, stand up, and follow him to the elevator.

The whole way to his apartment, you remind yourself that you have a rule. Two rules, actually. One: you’re keeping this casual. Just friends, no emotions. Two: you’re not allowed to stay over. You can cuddle and talk, but at some point, you need to go home and wake up in your own bed in the morning.

The last thing you need is for Hades to call you in for the day, only to have Thor pick up your phone and find everything out before you’re ready to tell him what he needs to know.

You take a look at his clock, then remember that it’s on Asgard’s time. Your phone says Midgardian time is about 10pm. It’s getting late, at least for a woman to be walking home alone. You could take a cab, Hades wouldn’t mind paying.

That sets you at ease a little.

Enough to fall into step with Thor as he goes into his bedroom. You haven’t been back here before, but you try not to make anything of it. It’s just a bedroom, though his bed is fucking huge. It has to be - his body is long and wide and he needs to fit on this mattress every night.

You take off your shoes and socks and jump onto his mattress, nearly sinking into it. The sheets are actual silk. It’s the most luxurious bed you’ve ever been in, and when you relax, you can’t help but let out a little moan.

Thor chuckles and shakes his head, but joins you anyway.

“I take it you approve?” he asks.

“Anyone who doesn’t is clearly wrong,” you reply. And then you laugh together, and your whole face heats up.

That’s all you want. Just...to have him smile like that - so happy and genuine - at you forever. He’s so handsome, and his laughter is so endearing, and if you don’t do something about it, you’re going to fall into a pit that you won’t be able to get yourself out of before he gets hurt, too.

So you reach forward and kiss him, because you know that’s the quickest way to shut him up.

But just as quickly, he pulls back. He holds you above him and gives you a confused look. “I thought we were just going to be friends,” he says.

And you nod. “We are.”

“Then why are you kissing me?”

“Friends kiss.”

He freezes. Just stares at you. Finally, he asks, “They do?”

“Sometimes,” you tell him. “Friends can have casual sex. That’s not a thing on Asgard?”

He shrugs. “Casual sex is, sure. Among friends? Not quite as often.”

You wonder if it’s because he’s a prince, like if you’d asked a member of his court or any random Asgardian the same question, would their answer be any different? Ultimately, you decided it didn’t matter.

You and Thor weren’t on Asgard. You were on Earth, where your only option was to engage casually, if you were going to engage at all.

“That’s what you want?” he asks, as if he can read your mind.

You force yourself to nod. “Is that okay?”

He lets out a heavy breath, and you know, immediately, it’s not what he wants. It’s not really okay. His eyes are a little dull, comparatively, just to match.

“It is better than nothing at all, I suppose.”

You hate that answer, and you know he does, too. It almost completely ruins the mood. You almost give in, almost apologize for doing this to him.

Almost.

But you can’t. You can’t even think of what it’ll mean if you do.

You lean in again, pause for just a second, almost whisper an apology again, but think better of it. One day. One day, when all of this is over, maybe then you’ll get to apologize for playing him like this.

At least you know what you’re doing to him. Or...maybe that makes it worse.

One of your only two rules is that you don’t stay over.

And yet, you let yourself fall asleep wrapped up in Thor. You can’t really help it. He’s so warm and comfortable, and he doesn’t give you much of a choice.

He’s worn you out. Shown you what kind of bliss only he can really show you, then insisted you rest because there’s no way you can walk home when your legs are like jelly.

You wake up in the middle of the night and weigh your options. You could call a cab. You could get dressed and still go home and follow your own rule on a technicality - you’d still be waking up in your own bed in the morning.

But you’re already here, in Avengers Tower. There are so many floors to go through, so many possibilities of waking someone up or running into someone between the residential floors and the lobby. And even if you don’t, that means you have to go all the way down to the lobby by yourself at...four in the morning.

Even if the Irish lady is around and watching, the idea of leaving now isn’t perfect. It’s not ideal. Doesn’t make you want to leap out of Thor’s bed.

Especially not with his arm thrown over your middle.

You know you can’t like the feeling of having Thor hold you like this. But you do. You really, really do.

And because you do, you slide out from under him. Throw your legs off the side of the bed, stand up, and grab the first article of clothing you find.

It’s huge. Thor’s shirt, you realize. It’s a plain gray t-shirt. You throw it over your head, sighing as the cool cotton settles on your shoulders. It’s too dark to find anything else without causing a ruckus, but you do anyway, only half-regretting it when Thor groans and leans over to seek you out. His fingers brush your side, find a shirt there instead of bare skin, and he groans again.

You can’t help but laugh at the exhausted sound he makes as he rolls over - literally rolls over - until his face is in your back.

“Where are you going?” he whines, mouth moving against the shirt.

The laugh turns affectionate before you can stop it. You look back at him as best as you can, both in the dark and with how close he is. “Just wanted to get some fresh air.”

“So you weren’t leaving?”

At that, you turn carefully. When you can, you put your hands on the sides of his face and gently pull until you know he’s looking at you. “Since I’m wearing your shirt, and only your shirt, and it’s four in the morning, no. I’m not leaving.”

The sigh he lets out fills you up with glee. You know you shouldn’t let it, but you do. He just...sounds so relieved that you’re not leaving him. The thought that he wants you to stay is too satisfying. It’s too tempting. It’s a lot of too much, and you can’t tell if you’re ignoring it is a subtle way of giving in or a very clear way of keeping distance.

“C’mon then,” he mutters. And then he’s pulling out of your grip, and you let him because you have to. You just barely see his silhouette stand and find clothes on his side of the room before he turns on a lamp from his bedside table. That’s when you’re able to find your underwear - you only slip your panties back on before Thor’s coming around the bed to grip your hand in his, pulling you from the room.

“Where’re we going?” you ask as he drags you out of the apartment.

He laughs lightly, you shushing him, and says, “To get some fresh air, obviously.”

The Irish lady has the common sense, apparently, to wait until the elevator doors are closed this time. She asks Thor where his destination is, and he tells her, “The roof please, Friday.”

“Her name is Friday?” you ask.

He just shrugs. “You’d have to ask Stark what it stands for.”

But that only confuses you further. “Is she not...like, a real person?”

At that, Thor laughs harder. Unabashedly. But he has the sense to not appear to be laughing at you, not in a way that makes you feel like a fool for having asked. He shakes his head and says, “She’s Artificial Intelligence.”

You nod and laugh at that, too because, of course. That makes sense. You’ve only ever heard the Irish lady - Friday - and she’s been pretty much everywhere.

But now she leaves you and Thor alone as the elevator continues to climb. You wonder how far up you’re really going, because Avengers’ Tower is actually kind of pointed at the top. It’s not like you and Thor can just go out to the spire and hang on - or could you?

The doors open to face another set of doors, but these are heavy and metal and open outwardly. Thor holds one open, lets you out first, and follows you onto a deck that reaches over the city, a glass wall the only barrier between the edge of the deck and the sky.

The only time you’ve ever been close to this high up is when...when Hades pushed you off that building.

But thinking about that will kill the serene mood you definitely feel with your hand in Thor’s. So you kick Hades to the curb, at least for now, and follow Thor out to the edge of the deck. He tells you to sit, so you do, then he backtracks, but you’re too focused on watching Manhattan in the early dawn.

He comes back a moment later with a huge blanket that he rolls out along the cement floor. You look over your shoulder and find a metal cabinet with one of the doors flung open and rows upon rows of more of those blankets - and you think hey, at least Stark prepares for everything. You doubt the intended purpose for these blankets is sex outdoors, but you’re not even sure that’s what’ll happen with you and Thor anyway.

Not now.

Thor gestures for you get comfortable on the blanket. He’s not usually this bossy, you think, but he’s also not being rude. You can see the exhaustion in his eyes - Gods can feel exhausted? - so you don’t put up a fight or even politely decline. Besides, you miss holding him. Genuinely. You know you shouldn’t, that Thor is absolutely forbidden fruit, but it’s too early - too late? - to deny yourself or him the pleasure of touch.

So after you’re settled, Thor makes himself comfortable. His head on your shoulder, legs spread out long, feet hanging off the end of the blanket. He’s quiet for some time - long enough that you think he must’ve fallen asleep.

But then you hear yourself calling out for him. You don’t know what your mouth is doing. He looks up at you, eyes a little bleary but expression generally happy, and smiles.

“Tell me about Asgard,” you say.

You immediately know it’s the wrong move. Not because he reacts badly, but because asking him about this is an emotional weight that suddenly settles. It’s not unpleasant, but that’s the scary part.

He goes into excruciating detail with very little probing. Tells you of golden suns and gleaming palace walls, of hidden hills and glorious gardens. He brings up the colosseum, but only briefly, saying that it is “the place where warriors are made” before moving on.

And you just know that’s where all of this started, to some extent.

When he comes to what you think is a close, he sighs and you ask him, “And...what is it that you did to come here?”

That, he’s more hesitant to divulge.

“You don’t have to say,” you tell him quieter, but you can feel his sigh more than hear it.

“I do not want you to think ill of me for my mistakes,” he says quietly. “I have learned from them, whether or not I’ve been readmitted into Asgard.”

There is, surprisingly, no voice in your head telling you not to place a kiss on his forehead. You do so freely. And then, what you say next explains, to yourself, why.

“There’s nothing you could say that would make me think less of you, Thor.” And you say it reassuringly, lips still against his forehead, so that he knows you’re being sincere.

You wonder what he’d do if he knew it was because of what you are doing at that very moment.

He must feel how truthful you’re being. His arms around you tighten, pull you closer to him, and you throw a leg over his to sort of tangle your body over him. It’s funny, you think, that normally he is so large and intimidating, but right now, he’s just...soft.

So soft. So soft that you almost pull away, but then he’s telling you:

“I nearly incited a war with the Frost Giants of Jötunheimr. A few snuck into my father’s weapons vault and intruded upon what was meant to be my coronation ceremony, and in a fit of childish rage, I flew off the handle. Stormed into their homeworld, threatened their king, attacked their people - I was no better than the sneaky few who went against my father’s peace treaty with their king. Laufy sought retribution. My father sought to make a man out of me.”

He falls into silence then. You think, for a bit, that he might go on, that he just needs a break, but then...nothing. The sun peeks over the horizon just a smidge, and still, he’s unmoved.

“That’s it?” you ask. You had expected much, much worse. But then again, you’re used to Hades.

He looks up at you, confusion creasing the space between his brows. “No need to make high treason and unnecessary warfare sound so trivial,” he says. And he looks genuinely upset.

You smile at him, sure, but you just sigh and push your face right up against his. It’s so...intimate and uncommon for you to do and yet, with Thor, it feels like the most natural move to make. The sirens keeping you from making these decisions have, apparently, been put to sleep.

“It’s just...I wasn’t expecting that. And, to be honest, I’m kind of glad, in a weird way, that you did it. Because now, you’re here.”

You absolutely do not let yourself say with me, but that is all that you deny yourself. And still, even without saying it, it’s like Thor just knows. Like he can sense it’s on the tip of your tongue, fighting its way out of your throat. He nods, and a few of his fingers dip low to slip under the fabric of his shirt on your body. But all they do is touch.

That’s all you need. Just touch.

#thor x reader #thor odinson #thor fic #thor au #hercules au #worth my while fic

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aliceslantern · 5 years

Text

Beyond this Existence, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 5

Summary: After Xehanort's death, Demyx finds himself unexpectedly human in Radiant Garden. With nothing but fragments of his past and a cryptic statement from Xemnas, he's left to figure out who he is. When Ienzo asks for his help with a project, the two find common ground, but the trauma and secrets in both of their pasts could tear it apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post-KH3 canon compliant

Read it on FF.net/ on AO3

A few days passed. The illumina plant, away from the sun and in the darkness at night, shed its browning petals and new buds replaced them. Demyx checked it meticulously, made sure it was received neither too much water or too little. He even looked it up in the library, and found that fish worked as a good fertilizer. The next time they had some for dinner, he snuck a few bites into his napkin and buried them deep into the dark soil.

The pain and stiffness in his hand lessened day by day until finally it was almost back to normal. Ienzo was preoccupied with Ansem, so Even offered to remove the stitches. Thankfully, the removal wasn’t nearly as painful.

“The body’s ability to heal is remarkable, but tedious,” Even remarked. “Try not to get into any more accidents.”

The scar left behind was thin but still an angry red, and the skin was weirdly sensitive from being under a bandage for so long. Demyx noticed that Even’s touch was rougher than Ienzo’s, his treatments less gentle. And for whatever reason, the contact left no impression on him at all. He wasn’t sure what this meant, or if he really wanted to know.

“I’ve come to no conclusions with your samples,” Even said. “So far… everything seems utterly ordinary. Disappointing. I’m running a few tests which will take longer. I’m not sure these memories of yours are as displaced as you think.”

A thin finger of relief brushed down his spine. “That makes more sense,” he said slowly.

“I’m sure with time your memory will return. It just takes some patience. I know that’s not your strong suit.”

Demyx shook his head. “You’d be surprised,” he said. “See you at dinner.”

He headed back downstairs, towards town. He was hoping that the instrument seller was at the marketplace this week. He still had little money, but maybe they could work out some sort of deal. Demyx would gladly do almost anything for a sitar; he could watch the booth, or do odd jobs, or really almost anything. It would be worth it to shake this emptiness he was feeling.

He passed the study room on his way down, and to his surprise, he heard the piano. The notes were weak, and hesitant, and slow; exactly what a new player would sound like if they were out of their depth. He opened the door. “You going ahead without me?” he asked.

Ienzo looked up, startled. There were deep, bruiselike bags under his eyes. “Oh, Demyx,” he said. “No. Not quite. I just… I was trying to figure out the rhythm of a phrase. It changes the meaning of the characters in my translation, which changes the meaning of… just about everything.” He set his head in his palms. “I’d basically have to start over.”

“How long have you been at this?” Demyx asked. “It… seems like you’re pretty tired.”

Ienzo blinked, then looked out the window. “...Quite some time,” he admitted. “I… tend to lose track.”

Demyx sat next to him on the bench. “Which section do you mean?”

“This little bit here. See?” He touched the measure in question. Ienzo played the phrase, bungling the triplet. “I can’t for the life of me count it out correctly. I… should have waited for you.”

“Well, you’re in luck.” He held out his left hand. “I’m all healed up. Even took out the stitches. Let me see. Oh, right. I remember this.” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s the meter. 29/16ths.”

“Beg pardon?” Ienzo raised an eyebrow.

“I know, right? God, at least make it an even number. 30/16ths would be so much easier to count. And they’re short measures, too, that all bleed into each other. It’s so…”

“Chaotic,” they said at the same time. Demyx felt the blood rush to his face.

“Well, it sounds… kind of more like this.” He played through the bridge again. “I’m sure on the actual sectioned instrument it would be completely different. And that would be…” He thumbed through the pages, seeking the same phrase. “...This one. And it’s got a treble clef, which means your options are really, really open. ...What’s this?” Next to the clef was a small character.

“They’re letters. Let me see.” He stood and hefted a large runic dictionary into his arms. He flicked through the pages. “My guess would be either an F or an S. Runes are, for whatever reason, pretty phonetically similar to our language now. If I had to start my studies all over again I think I would focus on linguistics. It’s just so delightfully complicated, and it really reveals a lot about human psychology how words and roots form--” He was speaking quickly now, a glint in his teal eyes.

“...An F?” Demyx mumbled. “But it could mean flute, but that would mean it transposes higher, and that… feels off.” He played the notes in octave. “But if it’s an S… what could it be?”

Ienzo went back to another heavy book of rooms. He snapped his fingers. “Dawn. That’s the character. So, if I’m correct at all, the first phrase is “Dawn town.” Maybe it's more like “Dawn, Town,” with a comma. Maybe it’s more of an action line. But that’s not the correct participle.”

“Daybreak Town.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Not dawn. Daybreak. The rhythm wouldn’t fit.” He played it again. “It fits with “Daybreak”.”

Ienzo’s eyes were wide. “You’re right. That’s so apt. Daybreak Town. I wonder what that is. Is it poetic license? A place? I’ve no clue.” He stood up and started poring through his books. “Perhaps there’s a reference to it in some sort of history…”

He felt weak, as though someone were jangling his brainstem. Instead of thinking about it, he watched Ienzo as he shifted from book to book, mumbling to himself. His silver hair nearly seemed to glow in the rosy fall light, and there was that unfamiliar feeling, the whisper of it, as though Demyx were being touched. His skin was just a little too warm.

“...You’ve an odd expression on your face,” Ienzo said, startling him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, uh, fine.” He cleared his throat. “You seem pretty passionate about this kind of stuff.”

“...Passionate?” This seemed to catch him off guard. Then he nodded. “Yes. I suppose. I’ve never defined it at such, but I… I always feel most myself when I’m in my research. Making connections.”

“I know what you mean. That’s how I feel when I make my music. Like… I’m part of something worth something. Like I have…”

“Purpose,” Ienzo finished slowly. “I refuse to believe things are meaningless.”

“I find you easier to talk to than Zexion,” Demyx said. “Why is that?”

Ienzo sat down as though his body suddenly weighed twice as much. “He and I are… not the same,” he said. “Every day I’m working harder to be a better person, to make up for all of the terrible choices I’ve made. It is… exhausting.” He seemed to stare past Demyx for a moment before he seemed to come to attention. “You are different as well. I know it’s still hard to realize this.”

“The others don’t either,” he said with a shake of his head. “I just wonder how much of our Nobody selves were made of bad memories. I mean… I was a complete asshole. The way I treated Roxas--”

“It’s unfortunate there’s no way to quantify what you mean,�� Ienzo said. “There must be purchase in it. If you’ve no conscience, no empathy, it’s easy to make bad decisions. Because none of it matters. I don’t want to live like that any more. Now that I’ve a choice.”

“Me either,” Demyx said lamely.

“Hopefully this research will shed some light on the past,” Ienzo said. “Shall we get back to work?”

Demyx kept dreaming.

The colors and shapes were sharpening in his mind, and they were becoming more memorable.The dreams shifted from the bright, soft, welcoming colors to orange and red dust, to monsters and swarms of Keyblades and bodies in armor, so many bodies, dead and bloodied and fading, some destroyed to the point of barely being human.

He woke up gasping, sweaty, and running for the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before he was sick. Weird chills made him tremble all over, and he sat for a long time rocking back and forth.

“It was just a dream,” he kept whispering. It had all felt too vivid, too detailed, to be a dream. Even if it were, what did it say about his mental state that this is what he dreamt?

Demyx found it hard to focus the rest of his day. He felt tense, unsettled; he wasn't able to eat. He kept seeing the bodies. His piano playing was listless, incorrect. He could barely see the notes. He watched Ienzo at the small work desk, his face so close to the dictionary that his hair was caught in the pages.

“...Do you ever have nightmares?” Demyx asked slowly.

Ienzo jumped. “Well… I suppose to a degree. Everyone does at some point or another. Why is it you ask?”

“I had a really bad one last night and I can’t get it out of my mind. It just… it felt so real,” he said.

Ienzo turned away from the book and leaned on one elbow. “What was it about?”

“I was in the Keyblade Graveyard.” As he said it, he realized it was true. “There were… so many bodies in armor… cut up… bleeding… completely dismembered… The Keyblades were everywhere. There was so much blood in the dirt that it was muddy, and red.” He shuddered.

Ienzo thought a long moment. “Perhaps this is a manifestation of survivor’s guilt, because you weren’t one of the true vessels, and thus, didn’t perish in battle. It’s a natural psychological response,” Ienzo said. “We internalize trauma differently as humans.”

“Trauma?” He hugged himself. “Do you think I’m traumatized?” He was probably right, but still the nightmare nagged.

Ienzo clucked his tongue. “In all likelihood, yes. I’m not qualified by any means to make that diagnosis, but considering what you’ve been through--and by extension, the rest of us--some sort of post-traumatic stress is not uncalled for.”

“I just want it to not bother me.” He felt cold and a little dizzy.

“I’m sure. If there was something I could do to help you, I would. Unfortunately, there’s no easy cure. You just must remind yourself that the pain you feel is illogical, and it will pass. The best key to these things is usually reason.”

“Always one of my strong suits,” he muttered. He looked down at the piano keys. Despite how hard he’d tried to clean it, some of the keys were still stained a pale pink with his blood.

“You just need something to center yourself,” Ienzo said. “Something you can hang onto when these moments come.”

“Do you experience the same thing?”

He smiled sadly. “For many years. Even before the Organization.”

“What happened to you?”

The conversation seemed to stop in its tracks. Ienzo tensed. He took a deep breath, and then exhaled. “You know I was very young when Ansem the Wise took me in.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Do you know why that is?”

“I just figured you were that smart.”

“You flatter me.” He knotted his hands. “...My parents passed away when I was a child. It was… not natural.”

Demyx turned towards him. Ienzo’s desk was about an arm’s length away from the piano, which felt simultaneously too close and too far away. “Heartless?” he asked.

“No. Heartless were not as common then. There was another type of monster, one created from negative emotions. We know now that they come from Ventus’s counterpart, Vanitas. But then… they were everywhere. I was actually coming from here… this very castle… with both of my parents. It was open to the public then. And… well. There was a swarm.”

Demyx exhaled; he’d been holding his breath.

“Both of my parents passed. I only survived because Aeleus was on duty and stepped in. I’ve still got the scars.” He loosened the cravat and pulled aside his shirt. At the top of his shoulder were three slash marks the pale white color of old scars.

Without thinking, Demyx brushed his fingers across them. The scars stretched up under the nape of his neck before disappearing beneath his clothing. Ienzo flinched. “I’m sorry,” Demyx said. “I wasn’t thinking. And, um. I’m sorry about your parents, too.”

Ienzo covered up the old scars. “I don’t remember much of them, even now. But you see. When you insist I cannot understand… I understand better than you know.”

“Yes,” he said. They held eye contact for a moment too long. Demyx knotted his hands, feeling the imprint of the scars still. He felt lousy for even having thought than Ienzo wouldn’t get it. They both had experience with the darkness and everything that came with it--it was the only thing they had in common. Demyx’s face flushed. He looked away from his own hands, trying to bury the weird feeling beneath layers of score.

Ienzo glanced over at the small alarm clock. “It’s about time for me to start making dinner. You’ll join us, right?”

“Right,” he said shakily. For a long while after Ienzo left, he didn’t move.

He dreamt again that night, this time less dramatically, and more opaquely. He dreamt about hands and scars and vague feelings of longing, and kissing a nameless, faceless stranger. Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, the stranger gained a face.

Ienzo.

#beyond this existence #demyx #ienzo #zemyx #demyx/ienzo

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tyrantisterror · 6 years

Text

Scattered Thoughts from a Second Viewing of Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

Part 2 of ??? for today’s Jurassic Park thoughts. Part 1 is here.

Aw yeah, it’s a scattered thoughts post! That’s like a review, except lazier and harder to make sense of! YAY

I’m gonna break this down into the Good, the Bad, and the Unnecessary Headcanons. I’m also going to put a break because 1. this will probably get long and 2. THIS DEFINITELY CONTAINS SPOILERS

SPOILERS BELOW! YOU WERE WARNED! TWICE!

The Good

I should note that most of these positive points have an implied “...but...” at the end that will connect to points in The Bad. I’m not going to put those “but”s in, though, because I don’t want to undermine the fact that these positives DO exist.

This movie is pretty solid if you only focus on Blue’s arc. She is by far the most consistent character in the film, and is at least tied for the strongest character arc if not the outright winner. Great for fans of monsters-as-characters.

Maisie, the little girl, is possibly tied with Blue for best character in the film, or at least a close second. She’s both consistent in her characterization AND develops as a character as the story goes on - something no other human character in the movie can claim! I’d say she’s the best child character in the franchise, but that’s such a depressingly low bar that it would feel like damning with faint praise (but she is though). So instead I’ll say that she’s one of the best child characters in film. That’s a big statement to make, but dammit that child actress deserves some fucking props.

They rerailed Owen Grady’s character a bit - he’s much more Goofy Fun Loving Chris Pratt this time around, and much less Super Macho Tough Guy Army Man Who Trains Dinosaurs. It makes him a bit of a mess of the character, but if we view the Owen Grady of this movie as a completely different character from the Owen Grady of Jurassic World, he’s actually pretty likable.

The cinematography and the editing of this movie is, as I said before, absolutely fucking stellar. The chase scenes are both beautifully and creatively shot, doing great work at making dinosaurs both terrifying and wondrous to behold in a day and age where it’s very hard to wow people with special effects. The action scenes are both interesting AND easy to follow - most movies these days have to choose one or the other. Even the quiet moments are well shot and edited, held back only by, y’know, the dialogue. And the characters. And the plot. It’s still a mess, but it’s a mess that was directed well.

There are so many clever homages to past horror films in this flick - not just the Jurassic Park movies, either. The Indoraptor’s chase of Maisie references both Nosferatu and The Haunting (1963), for example, and while I never would have expected those movies to be referenced in a Jurassic Park movie... it actually works? Like, really well? It’s great and creative. There is a genuine artistic spark behind a lot of the things in this movie and that has to be acknowledged.

That Brachiosaurus scene has immense emotional power. If you weren’t emotionally moved by it to some degree, either 1. you hated this movie before it even began and refused to allow it even the slightest chance of being good, or 2. you’re some sort of heartless monster who feels nothing for animals.

The Indoraptor is sort of like Emperor Palpatine, in that he’s a flat character whose only motivation seems to be “I really love doing evil things,” and yet that somehow... works? Like, the execution takes that flimsy motivation and makes something really compelling. He’s a flat villain, but he’s so delighted by his explicitly evil actions that you can’t help but be charmed. The Indoraptor is probably the most straight forwardly-evil character in the entire franchise, and it’s delightful to watch.

The lady playing the Paleo-Veterinarian gave a very good snarky performance despite the limitations of the writing. I would like to see that actress in more things.

Rexie got several chances to punish the wicked, and that makes the child in me happy.

I got to see a lot of scenes of dinosaurs fighting each other and killing evil rich people, and that was satisfying on a primal level.

There are two excellent story concepts in this movie that could each make one really unique movie if they were given focus. A movie about people rescuing dinosaurs from an exploding island has an inherent drama to it and would be like no film I can think of before. A movie about people running from an escaped dinosaur in a spooky old mansion also has an inherent drama to it and is unlike any film I can think of. These two concepts could each individually make for a really great movie.

The Bad

There’s a Red Letter Media video about the Alien prequel film Prometheus that just consists of one of the reviewers asking a long list of questions raised by sloppy, inconsistent, and overall bad storytelling that hampers that movie despite its fairly decent direction. It’s really funny if you’ve seen the movie, and you can find it here. I mention it because a voice in the back of my head was slowly assembling my own version of that video while I was giving this movie my second watch because... because damn, dude, this script is just ridiculously sloppy.

You could also... man, fuck me, but you could actually make a Cinema Sins style takedown of this movie without having to make shit up and willfully misinterpret the film like they do in 99% of their videos. And you all know how much I fucking hate Cinema Sins, so when I say their style of criticism/”humor” can actually work here, you know I’m not speaking lightly.

I’m not going to do either of those things but I do want to focus on a couple examples of this movie’s sloppy writing because, like, it NEEDS to be addressed in detail, y’know? Or at least I feel the need to address it.

I mean a lot of things when I say it’s “sloppy,” but the jist is that it often has characters behave not according to their own motivations, personalities, etc., but according to the needs of the plot. So too does, like, everything else - dinosaurs, the volcano, physics, lava, you name it. The villains get probably the worst of it, but Claire Dearing and Comedy Relief IT Guy get it pretty bad too.

Ok, so, like, Zia is a Paleo-Veterinarian, right? What the hell makes that different than a normal Veterinarian? It can’t be that you exclusively work with dinosaurs, because Zia explicitly says she has never seen a dinosaur in person. Wouldn’t... wouldn’t that make her just a normal veterinarian, then? How can she know how to heal these animals without ever, like, studying one in person? It’s like they wanted to do some world building and so wrote that Paleo-Veterinarians are, like, a thing, but also wanted to give a heroic character a moment where they look at dinosaurs for the first time with awe, and decided to do both moments with the same character. Like, they couldn’t do it with Comedy Relief IT Guy because his whole schtick is that he’s desperately afraid of literally everything and everyone, because a guy who’s scared of things is funny (?). They couldn’t do it with Claire because she’s seen fucking dinosaurs before, and so has Owen. They don’t bring Maisie to the island so she’s out, and everyone else is evil, so Paleo-Vet gets the “Holy Fucking Shit It’s a Dinosaur” moment, even though giving her that moment makes no fucking sense for a person who’s whole reason for being here is that she knows how to heal dinosaurs, which is probably pretty fucking hard to do if you’ve never fucking seen a dinosaur before. You see? You see what I mean when I say the characters have no consistency, that they do things as the plot demands, even when it makes no sense for their character? This is but one of many examples.

And it’s sadly the same for the dinosaurs. Look, I love seeing dinosaurs eat people because I’m a little demented, and I know most of you do too, because all humans have at least a small desire to see wild animals eat people we dislike. It’s our nature. But the emotional core of this movie’s premise is the idea that we should want to see these creatures alive - that for all the danger they present, they are worth saving. This film needed to establish that these creatures are worthy of our sympathy. It’s pretty sad, then, that so much of the movie shows the dinosaurs as being bloodthirsty monsters whose primary desire - ranked even above their own self preservation - is to kill and eat during every waking moment of their lives.

Take the Baryonyx’s big scene - the Baryonyx, Claire, and Comedy Relief IT Guy are trapped in a building as fucking lava drips down around them. This would be a great moment to establish these animals are living creatures who enjoy living. A real animal would not spend its time trying to eat two humans here - it would try to escape the room filling with FUCKING LAVA that it’s trapped in. And that’s what should have happened, both logically AND thematically. Our heroes see this big carnivorous dinosaur enter and are worried, but instead of attacking it tries to claw its way out of the room. It’s as scared as they are, and even shoots them a desperate, pleading glance when they find an exit that’s too small for it to fit through. It would establish that, terrifying as these dinosaurs are, they just want to live. We would then feel justified in siding with the people risking their lives to save these creatures. INSTEAD, the Baryonyx spends the whole scene trying to murder them even when there are clearly other problems that should take priority over that, namely the fact that it’s trapped in a room FUCKING FILLED WITH LAVA.

Almost immediately after this is a scene where a bunch of herbivores stampede past our heroes, with a Carnotaurus stopping mid-flight to try and eat the humans. PRIORITIES, Carnotaurus! The Carnotaurus then stops mid-pursuit to inexplicably attack another fleeing dinosaur, which shakes him off, and then goes back to menacing our heroes while the lava grows EVER CLOSER. This... this isn’t how animals fucking behave, dudes. This is a textbook case of treating a monster as a plot device rather than a character - there is no reason, not plausible motivation for the Carnotaurus to menace our heroes at this time. It is a menace because the plot demanded it. Why the fuck would you save creatures that would prefer to slaughter humans at the cost of dying in fucking lava mere seconds afterwards?

Also the T.rex then pops out of nowhere to kick the shit out of the Carnotaurus and save the heroes, again, WHILE LAVA IS MERE SECONDS AWAY FROM THEM. To people who aren’t like me and thus don’t think of Rexie as a character, this would seem to be another example of dinosaurs in this movie being suicidally violent.

Later, after escaping Rexie and the Carnotaurus just in time for the fucking lava to almost catch up to them, our heroes join the stampeding dinosaurs. An allosaurus is among them and inexplicably tries to attack out heroes and gets killed by a falling rock as a result of its inexplicable decision to pause in its escape for the sake of killing people. FUCKING HELL.

Like... this isn’t just me nitpicking. This actively undermines the entire fucking story. Even Jurassic Park III gave its dinosaurs consistent goddamn motives. Jesus Christ, this movie’s writing made me cite Jurassic Park III as a positive example!

Colin Trevorrow was clearly pissed that people rightly noted the weird and extremely prevalent sexism of both Jurassic World (which he wrote and directed) and The Book of Henry (which he only directed), because he threw in some of the clunkiest “Girl Power!” performative feminism moments I have ever seen in this movie. And before you say “Colin Trevorrow didn’t direct this one though!” please check IMDB because while he didn’t direct it he still wrote the fucking screenplay. The moments that “address the criticism” he received are so blatant and ham-fisted that they feel like something an Anti-SJW blogger would point out to prove that Political Correctness is killing our culture. They’re sort of equivalent to a “I’m not racist! I have black friends!” argument - “I’m not sexist - look, I had this character tell a man how capable is after he lightly brought up how this might be dangerous for her!” There’s a moment like that in Jurassic Park too, to be fair, but it’s fucking subtle and understated by comparison.

There are so many great scenes and monster designs in this movie, and there are two plot concepts that would make for SUCH GOOD films if they were properly developed, and the director had a clear love for them all as well as the artistic skill to back it up. J.A. Bayona deserved to make a great Jurassic Park movie. That Brachiosaurus death scene deserved to be in a great Jurassic Park movie. Blue, the Indoraptor, Maisie, and the actress who played Zia deserve to be in a great Jurassic Park movie. So much of this film deserved the right to be lauded and praised. So it’s so, so, SO frustrating that the whole of Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom falls utterly short of the sum of its parts.

The Unnecessary Headcanons

I’ve seen some people try to explain the flaws in this movie away with their headcanon interpretations and, like... that’s not how stories work, though? Like, that doesn’t remove the flaws that exist - at best all it does is show that the flaws could have been fixed with some thoughtful revision. It reinforced the fact that this movie, taken on its own, needs to be fixed.

That said, here are my headcanons for some of the weird shit that happens in this movie.

We’re, like, 99% of the way to having the text of this series explicitly state that T.rexes can smell out evil and intentionally seek to destroy it. Almost every scene Rexie has in this movie shows her coming out of nowhere to punish the wicked and inadvertently save the righteous. It’s still in the realm of subtext but, like, if it keeps happening we’re going to have to declare Rexie a literal agent of a higher cosmic power. Jurassic Park T.rexes can smell the sin on you.

I’m pretty sure the nonsensical blood transfusion that made Blue’s blood “impure” and thus kept Dr. Wu from using her for gene splicing also gave her Rexie’s action hero powers, like how getting bit by a spider turned Peter Parker into a superhero. That’s why Blue instinctively knew how to safely survive an explosion via turning her back to it, and also why she got to do the Rexie thing and heroically save the humans from the evil dinosaur at the last minute.

Considering the fact that the Indoraptor is just, like, Explicitly Evil, I think Dr. Wu’s motivations may be less about weaponizing dinosaurs and making money, and more about trying to isolate the Evil Gene, a gene that makes things evil. Sadly, the only people with money to finance this project have the Evil Gene as well, and so Dr. Wu is forced to make all these dinosaurs and monsters while secretly researching the Evil Gene on the side. He hopes that in time he will be able to destroy the Evil Gene, and it clearly involves finding its opposite - hence the Evil Destroying T.rexes and the obsession with raising a hybrid based off of the Explicitly Benevolent velociraptor Blue. Dr. Wu dreams of literally curing evil, and dinosaurs are the method he has been forced to use to pursue this dream.

#Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom #Jurassic Park

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fyeah-namjin · 6 years

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Hi!!! I'd like to ask you if you have any Namjin fic recommendations for us? Thank you very much for sharing the love for Jin and Joonie! 💜

Hi~ I love your blog! I was wondering what your favorite namjin fics are? Have a fantastic 2018! - anonymous

hello anons~ I hope you both have a great year ahead and thank you so much for loving the namjin blog ^^!~ i had to think for some time in how to answer this and these are all the ones i can rec that i really love. Also, personally I’m a huge bottom!Jin fan (in all Jin ships) so all these fics are bottom!Jin.. I’ll add “mature” in the ones where there’s smut included but some of these don’t necessarily have that. I hope these are fine so far ^^

the shaman and the exorcist (angst. ongoing): Seokjin doesn’t believe in ghosts. Namjoon does believe in ghosts.

The Most Beautiful Moments in Life and What’s Loved Most in this World (college au. ongoing): Kim Namjoon is stuck with the obnoxiously good-looking, obnoxiously wealthy, and obnoxiously sociable Kim Seokjin for a music project worth 40% of their grade.

They Say it Takes a Village (But I Think I Just Need You) (ongoing. abo verse): It has been one thousand three hundred and eighty-four days since he’s last seen Seokjin. Not that he’s counting or anything.OR The day Namjoon meets two little boys that he didn’t know existed and everything that happens after.

let’s not hurt anymore (so much angst u cry, au, homophobia): They don’t talk about it, and usually no one thinks to ask. But if you did, Namjoon and Seokjin would tell.

Fate Led Me To You (Now Let Me Love You) (abo verse): Seokjin did not believe he’d ever have a happy ending. How many happy endings did you ever hear an unmated Omega with a child have?

beta tau sigma (college au): A collection of events occurring within (and without) the walls of the Beta Tau Sigma fraternity house.

Can I Get Your Dewey Decimal Number? (librarian au. humor): Seokjin loved working at the library, but some patrons got on his nerves. Take, for example, the grown man who sat in the corner every day and leeched off of the Wi-Fi.

all you need is love (and pink) (au, humor): Most people only have one miniature angel or devil riding on their shoulders to serve as the physical manifestation of their conscience. Poor Namjoon has five, and they’re all telling him the same thing: “fucking talk to him god dammit what the fuck is wrong with you”

listen to my heart (can you hear it sing) (abo verse, mature, angst): Seokjin wasn’t his, but he was still as every bit of ‘his’ as the rest of the wolves in the pack, and Namjoon was going to have to learn to live with that.In which Namjoon constantly, to everyone’s disappointment, fucks up.

Light of my life, fire in my loins (be a good baby, do what I want) (mature, mafia au): Namjoon exudes power in everything that he does.

I Dream in the Shape of Your Mouth (college au): Seokjin spends a lot of time in the library. Now, Namjoon does too.

hapless (mature, abo verse): Seokjin’s heat comes a little early but Namjoon is still there to help him through it.

an interruption (mature): Namjoon needs to focus, but Jin has other ideas. Also how difficult is it to be emotionless while discreetly getting head under a desk? Kim Namjoon is about to find out.

trouble in paradise (angst): Bangtan have to do a cute concept, which isn’t nearly as much fun as it sounds.

charmed (fantasy au, angst?, fluff): "So you’re not going to eat me?“ Seokjin asks, just to confirm.“Why would I eat you?”“Because you’re a dragon,” Seokjin says slowly, because it should be obvious, despite Namjoon not looking very dragon-y at all. Namjoon looks unimpressed. “I may be a dragon, but I’m not an animal.”

three’s company (mature, +yoongi): Namjoon might be able to physically dominate Seokjin, but he can never seem to get Jin as beautifully pliant and submissive as Yoongi can.

get on your knees (say pretty please) (mature, au): Seokjin hates Namjoon, and then of course, the two of them get stranded on a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

claimed (mature /no smut/, abo verse, angst): Kim Namjoon is a dud. He accidentally falls in love anyway and time goes by.

a sugar coated pill and a pick me up (mature, fluff, humor, they switch but my petty self skipped the part where jin tops LOL): Namjoon refused to acknowledge him. What the fuck was this guy’s deal? Was he really that bitter that his six-year-old just lost a soccer game for six-year-olds?

heart of war (omega verse, ongoing?): For the protection of his people, Prince Seokjin has to marry his fiancé’s killer: the alpha king of the most ruthless and feared kingdom in all the lands with a reputation of being a cold blooded monster on the battlefield.

superb (humor, au): Namjoon is the God of Destruction, as well as the caretaker of three kids, and his kitchen nearly burns down thanks to his attempts to cook an egg but thank god, Kim Seokjin - his saviour, his superhero, his God of Kitchen - lives right upstairs.

love doesn’t cost a thing (au): In an act of rare stupidity, rich executive’s son Kim Namjoon decides to live like the middle class for a week. The only good part is the manager of McDonald’s.

When Push Comes to Shove, Bribe Him with Ass (mature, abo verse): Namjoon was abstaining sex from Jin just because he’s afraid of hurting Jin or the babies. Can you guess how Jin responds to the this?

trust (mature, +jungkook): “Do you trust me?” Namjoon pulled back and stared down at the older man, gaze serious.

awake (angst): All Seokjin needs to do is write his solo song for the album. All Namjoon needs to do is be a leader to his hyung. And all they both need is something in the future, something beyond the words, something unspoken, hanging in the future.

deal with a demon (mature, incubus au): A Friday night hangout in a bar. A rumor about a sex demon killing people. And a bunch of guys who doesn’t believe in it. Too bad that the incubus is already onto one of them…

you are beautiful in every way (mature, fluff): When Jin gets hurt, and starts to question his value, Namjoon is there to show him just how valuable he is.

over the city with blinking lights, i’ll take you. (mature): Namjoon is rich and he likes to spoil Seokjin with love, sex and ice cream. And they’re both madly in love.

you’re beautiful (au, fluff): Jin was tired of hearing the same thing from men.

foiled again (mature, humor): Five times Namjin get interrupted while having sex, and one time they don’t.

if life was a love song (humor): Soulmate AU where whatever song you have in your head, so does your soulmate; plus you and your soulmate have the same favourite song, and when you meet it plays out loud.

bullets (spy au): Seokjin gets captured in a mission, and there’s no way Namjoon’s going to let him just become a statistic.

getaway (mature, domestic au): “Jesus, Namjoon, please stop,“

bet you won’t (mature, humor, college au): Taehyung dares Seokjin to take a selfie while having sex with Namjoon, and the group chat ends up getting more than it bargained for.

in case of emergency (mafia au, humor): In Case of Emergency (ICE): a program that enables paramedics, police officers, and hospital personnel to contact the next of kin of the owner of a cell phone in order to obtain important medical or support information.

grapefruit (mature): "Grapefruit is actually the best way to describe my situation. Bitter and sweet. But mostly enjoyable.” Fox!Jin verse.

look here (don’t run away) (mature, abo verse): hoseok was late and seokjin was desperate. an alpha came in and really, he didn’t have much choice.

nothing is worthless (mature /no smut/, angst): The moment a person is born into the world they are given a superpower.

till death do us ‘part (angst, major character death): Namjoon and Seokjin are trapped on the bottom of a sunk ferry.

pack mentality (mature, abo verse): Namjoon is possessive.

Are you an EQUATION? Cuz I would love to SOLVE YOU (mature, humor, college au): “None of my friends are good at math and I need a tutor but you are very intimidating”

#this took time...#it's already going to be 2am #ahh i'll add more in the morning!#but meanwhile enjoy~~~#sorry it took so long to answer #anonymous #reply #if some links don't work pls tell me~#replies #fics

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moonraccoon-exe · 7 years

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Smol child Iggy

Smol, smol child Iggy.

Baby Iggy in a tonberri onesie.

One of baby Iggy’s first word was “please”.

The next was “thank you.”

The next was “Sowwy.”

2 y.o. Iggy imitating the adults’ formal dances with his moogle plush toy as companion.

3 y.o. Iggy was denied having a pet.

3 y.o. Iggy adopting a rock instead.

3 y.o. Iggy always keeping his rock’s water near it in case it gets thirsty.

3 y.o. Iggy sad cause Lord Petram Lapis Ishi Iwa the First is lonely and sad.

3 y.o. Iggy adopting a stick so it’s companion to his rock.

4 y.o. Iggy falling and scrapping his knees.

4 y.o. Iggy’s crying, attend him. ;_____;

4 y.o. Iggy attended by Lord Clarus because mama and papa Scientia are too busy.

4 y.o. Iggy forcing himself not to cry while he’s being healed and trying to fake he’s fine because “papa says I shouldn’t cry cause that’s going to make me dumb.”

4 y.o. Iggy crying when Lord Clarus plants a hand on his head and looks at him with furrowed eyebrows because “and not crying will make you a coward. You don’t value intelligence over honor, do you?”

The person that the Citadel’s doctor sees most is child Iggy…

…because smol kid Iggy insists on bringing him injured animals.

“DOCTOR IGAKU, this dog has a cut on her paw :’(”

“Doctor Igaku, I found this kitten, I think she’s sick. Could you please help us?”

“Doctor Igaku, I think this butterfly is sad. It’s not flying :’(”

“Doctor Igaku, I found this baby bird that fell off its nest, I NEED YOUR HELP.”

Smol kid Ignis appears at the door hugged to a big frog.

“Ignis, son, I’m very grateful for your attention but I’m not a vet, I’ve told you…”

“Yes, but there is no royal veterinarian. Look at him, he’s hurt. Please, do something, Mister Igaku. He can’t hop, and a frog that can’t jump is a sad frog.”

5 y.o. Iggy writing a full paper with the most formal and the smartest words he knows and sending it to the king.

It’s a petition to hire a “Royal Veterinary” because “The frogs and worms and dogs and kittens and birds sleep and eat and play here, so they live here, and that makes them Insomnian citizens too and they too have rights of health.”

Back to 3 y.o. Iggy.

Cor walks on in Regis carrying 3 y.o. Iggy in the middle of a hallway nearby the garrison zone of the Citadel. Iggy has a bath robe and the hair wet and he’s looking a bit sad.

“Ah, Cor" the king turns to Ignis “Perhaps we could ask him for help? He’s a very brave man and could deal with the situation for us.”

3 y.o. Iggy is very embarrassed and insists he doesn’t want to bother anyone, but Cor still asks what the matter is and if everything is in order.

“Cor, I’ll ask you to guide this child back to the guest’s bathroom his family uses when they need to stay overnight and help him. Bring your sword.”

“Y-Your Majesty, is everything in order? Is there any danger?”

“Tell him, Ignis.”

It takes 3 y.o. smol child Ignis a whole minutes because he still doesn’t want to bother THE Immortal Cor.

“…there’s piranhas in the tub.”

Regis is smiling when Ignis is not seeing him.

Cor does accompany Iggy back to the bathroom.

He locks the door behind himself and DOES pretend to be hitting something.

“I got rid of them all. You can bath in peace, kid.”

3 y.o. Ignis is SO EXCITED but won’t say or show it, because damn, Cor the Immortal just got rid of the evil invisible piranhas of the tub FOR HIM.

Smol kid Iggy playing nurse everywhere.

He’s been taught to grow into some sort of second-hand and helper of any situation, so he’s taking it seriously and plays nurse and mom everywhere he goes.

“*gasp* Oh, no. Lord Clarus, you look a bit blushed. Do you have a fever? Let me- could you come down for a moment? I can’t reach your forehead- thank you. Hmm…hmm…you feel fine, mister Amicitia, please take care, you’re very important to the king and the kingdom.”

“*gasps* Oh no, Gladiolus, are you okay? Be careful, you could have hit your head. The floor is a bit slippery, we should check you didn’t hurt your knees, let me see. Hmm…hmm…they look okay, are you okay?”

“*gasps* Oh no, your Majesty, you have a cut on your finger, oh no, we should- we should call for the doctor, and don’t worry, look, we hold your finger like this so it doesn’t bleed and- I know it’s not bleeding anymore, but we should take precou- preque- precautions, your Majesty, you’re so important, we should- my father has a pair of gloves, I could ask him for them and then I can give them to you and then the paper won’t cut you again and you’ll be okay.”

“*gasps* oh no, the baby’s crying, I should- the prince shouldn’t be crying, can I- what if he’s hurt, can I carry him? I’m four, I’m a big boy, I can carry him, the queen used to do like *motions* when she carried him and the king is busy, so it’s up to me now, right? Can I- let me carry him, he’s so small, he shouldn’t be crying :’(”

“*gasps* Oh no, mister the Immortal, you have a bruise on your face, are you okay? Come on, let’s go to the kitchen, they should have ice, and it’s closer than the doctor’s office and the doctor is busy, and I want to help, that bruise will get bad if we don’t do something.”

“Ignis, kiddo, I’m fin-”

“You sit down here and I- *climbs up another chair* and I apply the ice and it’ll be okay.”

By the way:

Smol kid Ignis thinks Cor’s last name is “the Immortal”.

Hence “Good morning, Mr. the Immortal”, “Good afternoon, Mr. The Immortal”, “do you have a Mrs. the Immortal, sir?”

A younger smol kid Ignis also used to think “your Majesty” was Regis’ name.

This means Ignis thinks Regis’ full name is “Your Majesty King Regis Lucis Caelum the one hundred thirteen.”

Smol kid Ignis practiced saying the name daily for three months to get it right and from heart.

Smol kid Ignis avoiding all puddles he sees.

Mama told him to always stay perfectly clean in every inch of his body because he’s being educated by royalty, so the least he can do is look presentable and the best.

Smol kid Ignis getting super angry when smol kid Gladio stomps in the puddles for fun.

Smol kid Ignis learning he’s growing up to be also a tutor to the prince.

So smol kid Ignis is super nervous about it and tries to rehearse on his own.

Smol kid Ignis basically breaking down in front of the king when he went tell him that he’s “not worth teaching your son, I’m just 8 and I’m not smart enough.”

King Regis making space in his schedule, even though the rest of the week will be extra super tight on him, so that he spends an evening in a room all alone with Ignis; he asked smol kid Ignis to “teach me what you learned in algebra the other day. I don’t understand it, and I’m king, so I should learn, right? Can you teach me, son?”

Regis SO knows algebra, but he will never be more grateful he asked for this, because

Smol kid Ignis extra super damn excited because he’s teaching the king himself, “I’m super smart! The KING himself came to ask me something, I’m so smart! :)”

Smol kid Ignis growing confident because of that.

Smol kid Ignis hugs every book he sees and thanks it for existing.

Smol kid Ignis hugs the trees and thanks them for existing.

Smol kid Ignis apologizes to the rocks he accidentally kicks.

Smol kid Ignis puts his hands to his cheeks and says “Oh no!” if he accidentally drops something.

He does that too when the most unimportant thing goes wrong.

It’s concerning that he overworries so much, but honestly the “*gasps* oh no!” is adorable, dammit.

5 y.o. Iggy meeting other kids that try to bully him.

5 y.o. Iggy delivering a mean comeback and learning words and information can cause greater harm than kicks or insults.

5 y.o. Iggy is the devil, he just discovered his brilliant strategist mind.

Smol kid Iggy growing up into having to read a lot and enjoying to read through dictionaries.

Oversmart kid + dictionary + the mind of a child = that’s how he grew up turning into the Master of Puns.

Smol kid Iggy will ask for Regis when he’s hurt.

Scrapped his knee? Kid Iggy can stay sat there, quietly crying because he doesn’t want to bother anyone, and when you find him he’ll cry harder and sob “M-mister your m-majesty…”

Only way Ignis will stop crying is either you leave him alone (wrong!) or you get Regis to comfort him.

Even though he’ll stay hugged to the king, smol Ignis will still apologize to Regis because “you should be working, your Ma-Majesty…”

Regis has always gladly changed work for comforting this little creature made of angel tears and purity.

Smol kig Iggy asking the royal chefs every now and then to bake some cookies or muffins.

Smol kid Iggy going around the Citadel gifting a cookie or muffin to the people he sees.

Smol kid Iggy using his save-ups to pay the chefs.

The chefs used to refuse it but it’s kid Iggy, you can’t say no to something like that because “it will stain his honor”.

Smol kid Iggy gets overly excited with some things he likes, but he’s too terribly, excruciatingly shy, and fears that adults may think he’s behaving like a baby, so he tries to hide his excitementwhen he sees something he likes.

There we have a smol kid Iggy seeing a moogle mascot; smol Iggy proceeds to grin and brounce over his feet, before his shyness wins and he just half-hides behind his adult in charge, embarrassed.

We have the luck that most of the adults in his charge know him well enough to recognize when smol Iggy is shy about what he likes, so they encourage him to have fun and that it’s okay.

Smol Iggy hugs the Immortal every time that Cor takes him out for a fun day.

Smol Iggy is so used to stay at the Citadel and study, he really, really, really appreciates it when someone takes him out.

“Thank you, Mister the Immortal… :’)”

Smol kid Iggy pets smoler kid Noct constantly.

He pets him to comfort him when he’s sad, to cheer on him when he does something good, or to thank him.

Whenever smol kid Noct is scared of the monsters under the bed or in the closet, it’s smol kid Iggy who checks for him.

Smol kid Iggy is TERRIFIED of those monsters…

Smol kid Iggy is sometimes almost crying as he checks because he’s so scared.

He won’t tell Noct how scared he is, though. Smol kid Iggy checks despite his fear because he wants Noct to feel safe… :’)

Smol kid Iggy hearing the queen passed.

Clarus walks on in a pair of guards arguing with child Ignis nearby the king’s chambers.

“Stop, stop, what is this mess?”

“This kid wants to go into his Majesty’s bedroom without permission.”

“Ignis?”

“The queen has passed, right? So that means she’s in peace, but that also means her side of the bed is unoccupied, right? So your Majesty will have, from a night to the next one, all that space for himself, but he’s not big enough to fill the bed on his own, but nobody except the queen should be sleeping with him, but he also shouldn’t be so lonely in such a big bed, so I only wanted to leave my moogle in his room so that the empty space is occupied when he comes back and so that he has some company. Moogle is not a queen, but he also isn’t a person, so I thought he’d like it.”

“…oh. And…wouldn’t you miss your moogle, Ignis?”

“Of course I would! But the king must miss the queen more than I’d miss my moogle. Also, my bed is for one person, and the king’s bed is for two, so it’s silly we both sleep in one bed and the king sleeps alone. Also, I don’t want the king to be sad, and moogle can help. He’s a good listener”

Dammit, the guards let him through.

How can you deny him?

He’s like 4 but he’s so smart and uses that intelligence to do things like this.

HOW.

WHY.

HOW CAN HE BE SO SWEET *the guards are crying*

I’d try to write more adorable things, but to be honest Ignis is a pretty damn tragic character and I’d have to get terribly off canon just to see him smile, ahahaha ////3

Edit: This was the first of the “Smol kid” series; I didn’t write it too seriously and didn’t know I’d make it a series, so it’s the shortest. I’d like to write more for Smol child Iggy sometime soon. Hope you enjoyed that’s here, nonetheless. :)

SMOL KID IGGY.

He’s life. He needs cuddles and protection. Give them to him.

Here’s smol child Noctis.Here’s smol child Gladiolus.Here’s smol child Prompto.

#kid ignis #thanks anon #this was adorable <3 #chocobabies #coonanswers #coonheadcanons #coonposts #coonwrites

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jess-the-vampire · 7 years

Text

Tom Vs The Forces Of Evil (Au), Chapter 4

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It happened. Marco was hoping he'd never have to see it. But it happened, Tom got angry. Marco had always visualized what Tom's outbursts looked like but seeing them in person was an entirely new thing. Tom could be a grouch, he could be emotional, he could sometimes say things that might come off rude, but nothing compared to how he was acting right now. Tom was floating in the air, marks and eyes glowing green, as well as the crystal in his wand, and it seemed like the world around him was matching his fury as clouds twisted in the sky and the wind picked up heavily. It was utterly terrifying to see him like this opposed to the moody but pleasant boy that roomed down the hall from Marco's bedroom. This visit to Mewni was meant to be fun, it was supposed to allow Tom to show his own culture off to Marco like he does with earth all the time. Yes, it was in secret because Tom's parents weren't to know, but Tom hates broken promises more than anything and he had to do this for Marco. But instead an enraged Tom was staring down at a terrified monster assassin.

Marco didn't know a lot about Tom, but he knew enough to know he hates it when people and things he cared about were harmed. Marco being attacked was no exception, as the knife to the boy's throat set him off immediately. Marco was dropped and the monster was frozen in fear. He had meant to assassinate the prince, his failure to grab the prince instead was a huge mistake. He was begging for mercy, and it was only then Tom's glowing started to falter a bit. For Marco it went by in a blur, Tom commanded the monster to leave him alone forever and he scattered into the Forest Of Certain Death. Then Tom fell out of the sky and crashed into the ground, and Marco immediately ran over to check on him. Tom was crying now, looking up at Marco in utter shame. Marco tried to help him up and reach out to him but Tom backed off, he looked terrified despite there being nothing to be scared of. "I-I...." The tears was starting to show and he refused to cry in front of Marco, he stood up, backing up. Marco held his hands out in front of him," H-hey...it's ok Tom..y-you're ok.." Tom looked confused, like he didn't understand what Marco was talking about, "Marco...I-I'm so sorry....I-" "Tom, no....don't apologize it's ok..." Marco felt like he was trying to calm down an animal rather then a person, he moved forward slowly. He was thankful they weren't too close to the kingdom because who knows how much damage he would've caused. "No, no it's not marco, how is this ok!!!???" Tom argued, "I-I just..." "Easy...it's ok Tom...it's ok....." Marco said, "You were just defending me, it's fine...you didn't hurt anyone.." "B-But I....", Tom started to tug on his hair, "I-I didn't..." He feel to his knees, breathing heavily. Marco calmly walked towards him and sat down in front of him, putting comforting hands on his shoulders. "I'm so sorry Marco this was meant to be fun but not only did I freak you out....I outburst when I was supposed to be anger-free....", He refused to cry but that didn't stop him from feeling sick to his stomach, "I-I just hate doing that....so much..." Marco carefully hugged him. "You wanna head back to earth? We can come back another time.." Tom thought about it for a bit and nodded slightly, cutting short what was supposed to be a trip that lasted a few hours. --- Tom wasn't nearly as forgiving about this as Marco was. He might have been defending Marco but the way Marco looked at him, Marco, a true friend, well...he only felt shame. Tom knew he was powerful, his family always was and has always been that way, but that side of him was something he wished he could forget. Even he was terrified of him. Anger free, that's all he wanted. Never again would he be this person, and definitely not in front of Marco. He tried to relax as Marco made nachos but his troubled mind showed clearly on his face, he twirled his wand around in hands as he usually did when distracted. He'd keep track of how long he'd had gone without an outburst and 47 days was currently his record to beat now. He just wished Marco hadn't seen him like that. Considering how other Mewmans were when they saw him like that, he was surprised Marco didn't kick him out on the spot. Guess it was in Marco's goody-two shoes nature to not kick Tom out onto the streets after performing some terrifying magic at him. Marco wasn't oblivious to Tom's silence and discomfort as he sat there, but it was hard to pick what to say after such an experience. Marco pulled the cheese out of the oven and started to pour them over the nachos, eyeing his friend. "Hey...Tom? Is-" "HEY MARCO!!!" A girl popped in from behind Tom, causing Marco to drop his tray of cheese, making a mess on the counter but not burning him at least. "AHHH!!" He jumped back, but not as much as tom, who practically fell out of his seat. Marco balled his fists, "JANNA!!!!??" "Yo." She waved to him and winked, then made he way around and smacked him on the back, "What? You didn't think you could keep me from meeting the new kid forever did you? He's been glued to your side ever since he moved in..." She walked up to the prince and looked him over, "Tom right? I hear you're like an alien?" "Uhh....yeah?" He answered meekly, feeling a bit powerless under her gaze. He didn't like the look on her face. "Do you eat brains and stuff? Like, i'm sure Marco's is worth tasting..." "HEY!!" Marco stepped between her and Tom defensively, "Janna, get out of my house...." "Aw c'mon Marco, I just wanna meet the new kid..." She complained, "You don't need to be such a stick in the mud..." "Well Tom and I are gonna hang out today and we don't need you making things weirder..." He crossed his arms, and Tom looked over his shoulder at Janna curiously. "You wanted to meet me?" Janna smirked, "See Marco? He's cool with it. Right Tom?" "Yeah.." Marco turned around to face his friend, "C'mon Tom, after this morning you just need to take some time off and relax...wouldn't you rather just take a break today?" Tom seemed to be thinking it over but Janna butted in. "Oh, what happened?" "Janna, go away...." Tom stayed silent, the terrible memories flooding his mind again. Janna bit her lip, she didn't expect the new kid to be so....quiet. She decided to stare Marco down instead, smiling and causing Marco to back up as much as he could next to Tom. Marco couldn't take it anymore, he grabbed janna's hands, and started to drag her towards his door, "Look I don't know how you got in here, but this really isn't a good time, so can you please just leave me and Tom alone?" She sighed, "Alright Diaz, I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow then..." "What No-" "Cya Tom!!" She waved from the doorway. "Janna, We don't need you here-" Janna ignored the boy and walked out the door, making Marco grumble as he closed it and checked all the locks. "I'm sorry about that Tom..." Marco said, relieved, as he re-entered the kitchen to clean up the cheesy mess. "Janna is just this girl at school and she's super weird-" He started as he removed the fallen tray, cheese had gotten everywhere, dang it Janna. "Why'd you make her leave?" Tom asked, "She wanted to see me..." Marco hesitated, remembering Tom didn't have too many friends and Marco basically just pushed one away from him, "She pushes buttons a lot, I don't really think she's the kinda friend you want while you're dealing with your anger-" "What do you mean?" Tom asked suddenly, he sounded a bit angry, causing Marco to re-think his next choice in words. "I'm just worried about you..." He answered carefully, "I've dealt with Janna before...I don't want her to make you feel uncomfortable...or to hurt you..." Tom stared at the counter, "Sorry if i was demanding, I just don't like people acting like my anger is all i'm about...that's what it's like back home....". Marco looked at him sadly as he starting wiping the counter of the mess, Tom continued. "I just want people to want to be my friend, but everyone takes one look at me and decides they can't deal with it...." He went on, "They take one look at me, and see a ticking time bomb, one that will set off any second.." He sighed heavily, "I wish things were different..." "You're not a bomb, Tom..." Marco said, "You're just going through a lot and you just need help to get through all this.." "Everyone is just so...scared of me back home..." He shook his head, "I dunno....it makes me feel sick to my stomach..". Marco bit his lip, Tom could always be funny, and annoying, and moody, but the new kid clearly brought some baggage with him. And Marco wasn't sure what to say, he wasn't always great at helping people. He walked behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, "You're not a bad person Tom, you'll get through this...you hit a bump....but we all do sometimes..." Tom sighed, "I wish you didn't have to see me like that, most people leave after that..." "You live here now...I couldn't leave if i wanted to...." ,Marco joked, "Don't let this ruin your day....you only got upset...because you were trying to be protective.." "You're...being so supportive of me during this..." Tom said softly. "You don't like it?" "No, no no..." Tom said quickly, "I'm just not used to people siding with me I guess...or caring how I feel.." Marco bit his lip, "Mewni kinda sucks doesn't it? It seems the more you talk about it....the more It sounds like you don't like it there...." Tom didn't reply, he instead reached for some nachos and shoved them in his mouth. Marco took this a sign that Tom didn't want to talk right now and sat next to him, snacking along with him. Tom twirled his wand around, and after some more snacking, he mumbled something under his breath about going to practice magic in his room and went upstairs. Marco wanted to go after him, but something told him maybe Tom needed some alone time. He had a few more bites of his nachos, feeling guilty at the thought that he might've said something wrong, when he heard a yell from upstairs. He fell off his chair and scrambled to get upstairs to Tom's bedroom. He was starting to panic at the thought something bad might've happen to Tom, Tom could've been ambushed by monsters, or robbers, or maybe a spell went completely wrong an- "Janna?!", the boy breathed heavily through the open doorway, gawking at the girl rummaging through Tom's room. Tom had his wand held out, pointing it at her, and for a little bit Marco could see a faint glow of green forming before he ran up to Tom and helped lower his wand. Tom calmed instantly, breathing carefully and scowling at the human girl touching his stuff. Janna smirked at Marco. "Sup Diaz." Marco was about to ask how she got back in until the keys she showed off in her hands answered his question for him. Tom grumbled, "Get out of my room, I don't want people touching my stuff....." She flipped through a spell book, "Oh c'mon, you got some wicked stuff in here...I just want to take a peek..." Marco yanked the book away from her, "It's not cool to snoop through Tom's things janna..." "Stick in the mud...." She rolled her eyes, and reached under Tom's bed, finding a pretty large box hiding under there. She pulled it out, and Tom's jaw dropped when he saw it, his heart rate going a bit faster at the nervousness of Janna opening it. Janna took note of his worry and smirked, "Oooo, bet there's something cool in here..." Marco tensed, Tom might get angry again if he didn't do something fast. But Tom instead casted a normal spell and janna was sent slightly back, covered in green slime. But at least she was away from the box. She seemed grossed out at first, but then she laughed and took a look at herself. "Wow, Alien slime...I gotta collect some of this..." She grinned happily, "That was so COOL....." When she saw their angry faces she rolled her eyes and made her way out....through Tom's window. "Well that was fun, see you nerds in school!!" She called out, climbing down safely. Marco sighed in relief, looking around at the mess, "Sorry about that....but uh...good job." Tom shrugged, "It was all I could think of to not get angry again..." Marco walked over, the mess making him grimace, and he accidentally knocked over the box Tom was trying so hard to hide. Marco's eyes widened as a poster, CDs, and many more colorful merch feel out onto the floor. Marco was about to apologize to Tom when he noticed the familiar logo and faces presented on the objects, and a huge smile plastered on his face. He turned to look at a half flustered, half angry Tom, smiling as wide as possible. "YOU LIKE LOVE SENTENCE TOO??!! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME??!!" Tom gaped, no longer angry but unsure how to respond. Marco calmed down, "I-I Thought I was the only one honestly....most people say it's more for girls..." Tom awkwardly looked away, "I-I'm a huge fan.....I-I Uh..". He rubbed the back of his head, "I just thought you might think I was lame if you knew...", the human shook his head and begun freaking out. "What?! No, of course not!! That's so cool Tom!! They're my favorite band!!!", His smile grew wider, seeing many albums, signed merch, and a picture of the prince with the band's leader within the box. "They're mine too..." Tom added, he made an awkward laugh, "Huh...small world.." "Yeah...", Marco laughed with him, "You wanna listen to a few songs? You seem to have....all the albums..." Tom gave a faint smile. - Tom's snores were soft as he snoozed on his bed, Marco lying down next to him, staring at the boy's ceiling. They'd been listening to music and playing games for hours, Tom finally seeming to feel better after his anger attack earlier. Marco smiled, at least he was calm. Tom could've blown up at Janna, but he didn't...he controlled himself. Marco thanked Tom in his mind for keeping himself from blowing up their house. It was hard to believe the boy sleeping next to him was the same scary, glowing, prince he saw driving fear into a monster earlier that day. Tom seemed too peaceful, so childish, so dorky, Marco could have never imagined him being angry in the way that he saw. "You're not wrong you know....." came a small voice next to Marco, Tom was awake. Marco was startled at first, but relaxed, "Hmm?" "Home...kinda sucks.." "Oh.." Tom turned over to face Marco, "It's my home....and I have great memories there....it just.." "Makes you feel bad?" Tom didn't answer. "Tom, it's ok....." "No, it's not......Marco...I'm going to go back home eventually...you know that right?" Marco sighed, "Yeah I know...." Marco looked around at all the Love Sentence merchandise spread all over the room, the memories of them singing the band's songs together only a few hours ago were starting to grow sad. Marco smiled at Tom, "Earth's going to be your home too, we'll find a way to spend time with each other.." "It won't be the same....when my anger is gone....so will I..." He bit his lip, "I can't wait for my anger to be gone....I just wish I could be here too..." "I get it..." Marco said, "I just wish your home wasn't so hard on you....you should be excited to come home with an achievement....not sad.." "It's just...nice here....makes me wish I went away for my anger years ago.." Tom half laughed, "I was so excited to show you my home...show you something cool, that I forgot how much home kinda hates me...". He sighed, "I just had to go home, the place that makes me feel bad about myself....". He looked into Marco's eyes, "I do want to get rid of my anger....I just don't want people to think that's all i'm about....because...sometimes I feel like they're right.." "No Tom, they're not, when your anger is gone.." Marco retorted, "They'll be impressed, The kingdom, your parents, you'll be this super cool king....you won't get upset and you'll handle things so well people will wish they got to know you when they had the chance..." He bit his lip, "But....frankly they're not worth it if they judged you by it..." "What do you mean?" "You don't have to prove anything to people who don't care about you Tom...." Marco answered the boy, "Do this for yourself, because you're not just a ball of anger and don't let the people who hurt and upset you tell you who you are.." Tom chuckled a bit, "You're too much Marco Diaz.....but...thanks for sticking with me" "If I can help it, I'll stick around for a long time....you'll need me to babysit you.", He poked Tom's head, "And someone really should have your back.....you don't have to feel so alone and unwanted.." Tom playfully hit Marco on the shoulder, "Dude, you're so cheesy.." "We listen to boybands, I think we're both pretty cheesy..." "I'm sorry for hiding that from you..." Tom sighed, "I'm too embarrassed to talk about it at home, my dad thinks it makes me look weak..." "Don't worry what your dad thinks....if it makes you happy, then there isn't anything wrong with enjoying boybands..." "You really think so?" "Yeah...." Tom gave a toothy grin, "Sorry that today didn't really go as we planned, I know you really wanted to see mewni...." "It's fine...It doesn't sound like much fun anyway, let's try some other dimensions tomorrow..ok?" The Latino suggested, nodding to the scissors on Tom's dresser. "Yeah, I'd love to show you some other cool places if you're up for it?" Tom challenged, "Let's stop all this sadness and have some real fun together..." "As long as you tell me if you wanna talk..about anything....ok?" Marco said seriously. Tom nodded, eyes darting about. "Yeah...ok.." - Tom fell asleep well that night after Marco left, as if his anger outburst had never happened. He was used to preparing for the worst when it came to stuff like this, but Marco didn't yell or run or do anything he'd been expecting him to do. No, he still wanted him here, he wanted to help him, to stay by his side. "Heh...." Tom laid down on his side, guess Marco really wasn't like anyone at home. Tom didn't mean to ever put himself down, he's just never really had anyone to lift him up before. He smiled to himself, he and marco were friends of course, they hugged, they shared interests, they helped each other. It's hard to not be friends when they've grown to spend a lot of time together in the short time he's moved in. But as he closed his eyes that night, he thought back to Marco telling him he wasn't his anger, and his face when he saw his Love Sentence Stash, and how he stood between him and janna so she didn't pry in his personal business.... and for once in his life he felt right at home.

#tomco #star vs the forces of evil #svstfoe #svtfoe #janna #tom the demon #marshall lee #marco diaz #Tom Vs The Forces Of Evil #fanfic #fanfiction #my art

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 7 years

Text

The Desert Sun was Never Cold

There are many stories told of princesses, each described as the most elegant, the most beautiful princess who had ever lived. None of these stories are true, for the most beautiful princess who ever lived is, without a doubt, the desert Princess Sun. From the moment Sun was born she has been graced with the gift of beauty, her skin is black and pure, her dark hair thick and coiled, eyes so brown you would believe they were born of the earth, and kissed by the sun with flecks of gold. As Princess Sun grows, so too does her beauty and grace, sun gifted vitiligo on her skin growing and strengthening as she ages. Strangers travel the harsh desert of her homeland just to gaze upon her, and bring gifts to earn her favour. All those who come wish to be the one to receive a royal kiss from the Princess' own perfect lips. Sun is kind and gracious, she will offer food, drink and shelter to those who travel to greet her, but never will she offer a kiss. Some will plead and beg, others bargain and bribe, but not a single soul is able to pry the much yearned kiss from the lips of the world's most beautiful princess. "It is a silly tradition," Sun will tell her servants, "A kiss will not heal them of their weariness, a kiss will not fill their bellies or dry their parched mouths. I offer them something they should value far more for their efforts and still they remain stubborn for the touch of my flesh upon theirs. I refuse to take part in such a useless exchange." A palace guard risks his life for hers and is refused a kiss, but offered medicine and a life of ease in the palace. A magician saves her people from a frightful Monster of the Sand, she too is refused a kiss, and instead given gold and jewels and rare herbs for her potions. Princess Sun gives only what is deserved and what is needed, she gives generously, her people love her, her people respect her, and yet- "The Sun is cold," her people say. "I hear she has never loved, she has never embraced another, never even touched another. She is generous in spirit but she is cold of heart." They pity their princess, incapable of love, cursed to be forever alone without a soulmate to complete her. They mean well, but Sun loathes the whispers. She is not cursed, she is not incomplete, but she is lonely. She is loved by all and befriended by none, those she meet want her kisses, they want her devotion, they want her to bear their children, they do not want her unless they can have her lips or her hand or her womb, all things Sun is unwilling to give. "I do not understand," she says to her servants, "I give them all that they need and they ask only for parts of my body. How can my body give them the pleasure of a soft bed, or a fine wine? What pleasures can my body give them that riches and jewels cannot buy? I do not understand." Her servants say nothing, they understand the pleasures of the body that Sun has never craved, but these are not things to be spoken of to a Princess. Things change with the presence of a new visitor to the palace. His pale skin is wrinkled and sallow, face gaunt, eyes sunken and back bent, he appears simultaneously bloated and withered. The servants fetch Princess Sun immediately and she hastens to greet the ill foreigner. "I have not long in this world to live," he rasps. "Please, all I ask of you Princess is a kiss, a kiss from your own beautiful lips to ease my pain." "Nonsense," says Sun. "You are not in need of a kiss, you are in need of medicine and herbs and rest. My servants will take you to a room of your own, you will have your own personal healer and food and drink delivered to your bed." The old man clutches his chest in pain, "But my lady! I have come all this way at the end of my life just to gaze upon you, and you will not even ferry me to the afterlife with the touch of your soft lips upon my cheek?" Sun feels pity for the man, in his state she knows he may not last the night, but she cannot accept his request, he is ill and perhaps diseased, were she to kiss him she may become sick herself and she would not risk her own health for the sake of a simple useless gesture. "I am sorry I cannot grant your request, but I can give you comfort, my most beautiful guest room and the finest foods you can eat. If my healers fail you and you pass into the afterlife this night, you will pass on in luxury." In the great arched entrance of the royal palace the hideous old beggar transforms. In his place there is a stunningly beautiful young man encased within a whirlwind of pure light, his hair is like spun gold and the blue of the sky dances in his eyes. He points a slim, delicate finger encrusted in shimmering jewels at the stunned Princess. "You believe your wealth to be of more worth to an old dying man than a simple gesture of love and warmth. The Sun of this kingdom truly is cold. You do not deserve the beauty you flaunt in the faces of all those who adore you, those you bring the hope of love and then snatch away in exchange for mere trinkets! You are a heartless beast!" As the servants cower before this shining Sorcerer in his otherworldly beauty, Sun stands firm. A scowl on her lips and the flare of her namesake in her eyes, she is no helpless waif and she will not be intimidated. "I offered you comfort and medicine!" Sun's voice echoes through the halls of the palace. "I offered an old beggar the luxury of passing on in peace with the chance to live another day, a chance to keep his flame alight! Most paupers could only dream of such a way to pass! How dare you liken this gift to a mere 'trinket'! Were I a princess of any other kingdom I would have granted you your precious kiss and left you on the street to DIE! And yet you call ME heartless?!" The Sorcerer's soft, pink lips pull up in a sneer. "I see you will not easily learn your lesson Cold Sun. It will take more than my words to prove to you the meaning of a tender loving touch to one in need." "Don't preach false lessons to me Sorcerer," Sun spits. "You come into my home a liar, here to steal my intimacy through trickery and now that you've failed you claim a higher morality to save your ego. I see right through you Sorcerer, you are no more than a selfish, deceitful, entitled BRAT." The Sorcerer's face hardens in fury, his magic lashing out and twisting around Sun, grabbing at her with golden hands of light, fingers clawing and grasping until not even a strand of the Princess' dark hair is visible under the blinding light of the strange magic. "YOU HAVE MADE A GRAVE MISTAKE THIS DAY COLD SUN, FROM THIS MOMENT FORWARD YOU WILL REGRET EVERY KISS YOU NEVER GAVE, FOR NO HUMAN ON THIS EARTH WILL EVER LOOK UPON YOU WITH LOVE AGAIN. NEVER WILL YOUR KISSES BE COVETED, NEVER WILL YOUR HAND BE SOUGHT AFTER. YOUR BODY WILL REFLECT WHO YOU TRULY ARE INSIDE, A COLD, HEARTLESS BEAST." As the Sorcerer's magic peels away, the palace guards and servants look on in horror as a creature unlike anything they have ever seen is revealed in the place of their beloved princess. Knotted locks of dull, tangled hair covers her large, hulking body, standing on all fours her sharp claws dig into the marble floor as she shakes off the tattered remains of her fine clothing. A ragged tail cuts sharply through the air as Sun rears her head, flicking a matted black mane off of her beastly snout and ghastly twisted horns. All that remains of the beautiful Princess are the sun kissed markings upon her deformed face, and the bright flecks of gold within the black beads of her monstrous eyes. The twisted beastly lioness turns to face her servants as they run in terror, pointed ears twitching at the sound of the Sorcerer's manic laughter. Before she can leap upon him he disappears, leaving in his wake an enormous pulsing heart of molten flame. It hovers in the centre of the palace hall, shifting shape and shooting off tendrils of fire with every beat. A mocking voice echoes through the palace doors, "If you fail to find someone who will look upon your monstrous form and willingly place a kiss to your beastly snout before the heart grows cold, then, and only then, will my spell be broken. It is your turn to yearn for a tender touch that will never come." Sun roars. She roars in anger, she roars in despair, she roars in outrage at this unfair curse undeservingly placed upon her. She has no lesson to learn, she has done nothing but show kindness and generosity to all who graced her halls, and still it is not enough, it has NEVER been enough. She refuses to be punished for the greed of the Sorcerer, she refuses to bow to his whim and search for one who will kiss her, she has never wanted such things and this new beastly form will not change that for her now. If she is to be this way forever, so be it. Her servants quickly abandon the palace, guards blockade the front gates to keep the monster inside. Sun knows that she could easily jump the outer walls but she thinks better of it, her people are terrified of her, her presence would insight only violence and panic among them. She stays inside the palace, wondering what to do next, she no longer has a village to run, no diplomats to meet, no treasury to organise, no future to plan for. Sun cannot remember a time where she had so little to do, so she sleeps. Her claws tear up the fine silken sheets and her heavy mass collapses the bed frame, but she hardly notices once she lays her great maned head down to slumber. Sun does not dream, the fate of her village and her people does not come to her mind, all of her stress and worries simply melt away, but she cannot sleep forever. When she wakes and finds herself unable to grasp the calming nothingness of her deep slumber once again, she concedes to the waking world. Lifting herself upon her large legs she walks the palace grounds. She has not eaten yet she feels no hunger or thirst, and so cannot use such needs to distract her, boredom settles upon her quickly and Sun begins her search for entertainment. She avoids the palace entrance, and the large pulsing heart of fire within. Word spreads through the village fast, "The Princess has become a beast!" they say, "Cursed by a Sorcerer, only a kiss will free her!" The palace guards stay by the gates for days, they stay as the people flee to neighbouring villages, wishing to keep their children safe from the monster behind the palace walls. The beast makes no move to escape, but every so often the guards will hear the heavy footfalls of the creature shuffling through the gardens and they remain in place. Their princess would have wanted it. As days pass the village degrades, most left the day the curse was laid, others followed slowly as resources dwindled and looted homes become empty of valuables. The guards are the last to leave, ensuring that no one has been left behind. Sun wakes one morning to silence from outside the walls. In her boredom she had circled the grounds, listening to the guards chatting outside. She recognised most of them by voice, she had considered many of them friends after all, but her friendship had always been one-sided. She could speak freely to them, but they could never speak freely to her, it had always been that way. Sun will miss listening to them talk casually amongst themselves. Years pass and the princess swiftly runs out of ways to keep herself occupied and the palace begins to fall apart with neglect, her library is useless to her when her claws tear apart any book she sets her paws on, the gardens become more and more overrun with weeds every day, the once beautiful golden sheen of the palace walls become dulled without regular cleaning. Floors begin to crack under Sun's immense weight, many narrow doorways are destroyed when she tries to fit through them. Parts of the palace roof and walls degrade quickly from her daily climbs up to watch the sun rise and set over the dunes. Though she does not require food Sun still eats from the overgrown trees and vines from her once impeccable garden and leaps over the walls to reach the large oasis that her servants would fetch water from to deliver to the castle so long ago. She had never visited the large lake herself before she was cursed, but she now does so regularly, as splashing through the water feels wonderful on her thick, dark fur. With every year that passes, Sun forgets more and more of her human life as she falls into the nature of a beast, hunting rodents and small critters through the empty streets of the village, sharpening her claws on the remains of sandstone walls. Chasing and pouncing upon the surviving abandoned livestock for sport, eating only out of boredom than any real need for food, more interested in chewing on the bones left behind. There is hardly a shred of Princess left in the beast that roams the neglected desert kingdom, and the Cold Sun lords over the grounds with eyes of pure gold and a heart that no longer feels. Until the day comes when a stranger enters her palace. She is small and weak, young and fragile. Damp from a dip in the oasis but the smell of unwashed clothes and many days of travel still cling to her skin. Sun stalks the malnourished waif through the ruined village, watching as she raids old stalls and homes in search of something. Food? Treasures? The girl's search leads her to the palace, she climbs over loose stones through a break in the dilapidated wall and enters the great doors. Sun, focused on the hunt, follows the girl, she forgets that she has not been inside the entrance hall in many many years, she forgets why she has been avoiding this place for so long, she forgets until she looks upon the great heart slowly pulsing in the centre of the room. Every beat sends a weak tongue of flame flickering through the cracks of the icy skin that has grown around it. Heat shimmers below the cold armour, splashing the walls with eerily beautiful patterns of light. Sun remembers. The Sorcerer, the curse, her Palace, her people. Sun is a princess, Sun is a leader, Sun is a woman who cares deeply and gives generously. Sun is not a beast, Sun is not cold like the heart before her. Sun is not cold. Sun is NOT cold. "Sun is not cold." her great, gravelly voice echoes through the chamber. The ragged girl, entranced by the heart before her, quickly turns to find she is not alone. Sun can see the fear on her face, she can smell it in the air, it sickens her. "Do not be afraid child." Sun sits on her haunches, tail sweeping lazy across the grand marble floor. "I mean you no harm." "You are the Great Beast," the girl says. "I believed you to be a story, a legend to frighten away thieves." "Are you a thief?" asks Sun. "No! I am not here to steal treasures! I simply seek shelter from the harsh desert winds." The girl's skin is rough, her eyes and lips are red, chapped and raw, but there is also hunger in her narrow emaciated face. Sun knows it was not merely the promise of shelter that brought her here. "Did not the temptation of my lush gardens draw you in? Did you not hope to find food behind the palace walls?" "I had no intention of theft Great Beast! I did hope to perhaps find food in your garden, but now I know this garden has not been abandoned, and so I will not take from it. Unless you would allow me? I have little to trade but I will give you everything I have for a night's rest and a full belly." Sun thinks. She thinks of the curse and the girl and a trade. A kiss on her beastly snout for a night of rest and respite. The heart is close to frozen, she has little time left, it is a fair trade is it not? Sun shakes her wild mane in disgust. Never in her life has she asked a price for food and comfort, she has given freely to all those in need who have graced her halls, she refuses to change now. Curse be damned. The Sorcerer's magic heart can grow as cold as the lands of the far north for all she cares, for her own heart will always be warm as the desert sands, warm as the great celestial being she was named for. Sun does not need a kiss to prove so. "The palace and gardens are yours to roam at your leisure, the garden's spoils and the water of the oasis are yours to gorge yourself on as you please. I need only look upon you to see that you have lived a life of poverty and pain, so know that for as long as you remain here, you will be cared for. I will give you all that you need, child." The girl's face is clear with suspicion. "Do you intend to fatten me up to eat me?" she asks. Sun laughs, a mighty roar of a laugh that sends the short, black hairs on the young girl's neck standing straight. Her blazing eyes soften to a comforting dark brown, only subtle flecks of their previous gold shining through. "Child, of food I have plenty. Of company, I have only you." The girl, though still weary of the beast, does not turn up her nose at the generous offer. She feasts upon the sweet fruits of the garden, returns to fill her water-skin at the oasis when it runs dry, and the Great Beast simply sits and watches, leaving her side only once to return with the leg of a large, hoofed animal for her dinner. The young girl sleeps in the most comfortable, luxurious bed she has ever laid eyes on that night, pleasantly surprised to find that she has not been eaten in the morning. The girl does not leave the next day as planned, never has she been so comfortable and well fed, never has she had such a pick of fine, though dusty, clothes to wear, never has she had someone look over her with such generosity and care. "If the Great Beast truly wishes to fatten me up and eat me," she thinks to herself, "perhaps I won't mind if it means living my last days like this." The girl does not merely spend days living alongside the Great Beast, she stays a much longer time. Every day she wakes fearing her generous host less and less, she passes time telling stories of her travels, the places she's seen and the many languages she speaks. For a girl so young she has been through so much, and she is grateful to have a place to rest and feel safe. "My name is Acacia." the girl says one night as she lays against her friend's great black hide, decorating her mane with tidy, twists and braids. "You may call me Sun." the beast says in return. During daily visits to the lake they both romp and play in the water, splashing and roughhousing before drying off in the desert heat. Acacia helps Sun brush the clinging sand from her fur, and in return Sun will lick the sand from Acacia's own short locks of hair. Acacia spend the years teaching Sun the many songs and rhymes she has learned in all her languages, Sun teaches Acacia how to hunt and track and kill large prey. The two run together through the dunes, chasing the wind and challenging the sandstorms, for they know that no force on this earth can take them down when they ride together. One day Acacia ask, "How is it that you became a beast? Stories tell of a curse, that you were changed for being cold of heart, but I can hardly believe such a lie about one so warm and loving." "Those who hold magic are not always deserving of their power," says Sun. "The curse is what froze my heart dear Acacia. It is you who reminded me of it's warmth again." "Is it true you can be saved with a kiss?" Acacia asks. "You have done so much for me, if a kiss is what is required to end your curse I will gladly give it." "Thank you my child," says Sun as she bows her great head. "But I have no reason to return to my mortal form. My spirit has grown too large for the skin I once wore, and to accept a curse as a gift is a greater insult to a Sorcerer than playing his game and breaking it." Sun laughs to herself and nuzzles the young girl's hair with her great snout, Acacia responds with a scratch behind her friend's large ear, she does not ask about the curse again. The flames within the magical heart flutter with one last beat before finally succumbing to the icy cold of the Sorcerer's spell. Sun, enveloped by the warmth of Acacia's love and friendship, does not even notice. In time Sun knows her friend will grow old and pass away, but they have many many years to spend together before such a tragedy befalls her, and in that time Sun hopes that others will come to the old palace, others who may be seeking food and shelter. They will find all that they need here in this forgotten desert village, as they always have and always will, because despite what all the stories say; The desert Sun was never Cold. -- oh my god this is so long I'm so sorry but the tumblr app dOESN'T LET YOU USE READ MORES AND I WROTE IT ON MY IPAD AAAA *cough* so here's my spin on aromantic, asexual Beauty and the Beast, take care to notice my own aro ace ass projected literally everywhere and also my love for giant monsters mothering tiny humans, also changed the working title from The Cold Sun because The Desert Sun was Never Cold resonated stronger with me 😎👌✨ SOME VISUAL NOTES: Sun's looks are loosely based on Canadian model Winnie Harlow, (vitiligo yo it's gorgeous) the setting is loosely based in North Africa, you can basically assume everyone but nobody's-favourite-blue-eyed-blond-haired-asshole-Sorcerer are POC Sun's beast form is like a huge mix between a lion and a Tibetan Mastiff and I want to cuddle her SO MUCH and Acacia you will be braiding that mane all fucking day if you aren't careful there is a lot of hair to work with and Sun will just sit there and let you do it man but yeah, I wanted this story to highlight the importance of not assuming asexual people are unfeeling robots, and how we need love and attention just as much as any other person, we just don't need the sexual and/or romantic kind of love and attention, and that doesn't make us cold or selfish and ngl we are all secretly giant lions on the inside don't tell anyone

#lucifer is a bag of stories #beauty and the beast #The Desert Sun was Never Cold #fairytales

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