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strawberrypinky · 3 months

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can't catch me now. - a. sharp x reader

i'm in the trees, i'm in the breeze my footsteps on the ground. you'll see my face in every place, but you can't catch me now. through wading grass, the months will pass you'll feel it all around. i'm here, i'm there, i'm everywhere, but you can't catch me now.

aesop returns to the place of your demise and the source of his everlasting guilt.

prompt fill for sharpuary no. 8 'scarborough'

A/N: Here we go! I'm kicking off Sharpuary with my take on the "Scarborough" prompt! Big thanks to @ynyseira and @gufu-vire for publishing the prompts ahead of the month!

Throughout the month I'll be publishing the prompts 'Portrait', 'Valentine', 'Gherkin', 'Mirror of Erised' and 'Slytherin'. I wish I would've had the time to do more, but alas these are the ones I have queued up. If inspiration strikes and I find the time, I might publish some more.

This one shot was loosely inspired by the song "Can't Catch Me Now" by Olivia Rodrigo & takes places in Aesop's early years, only shortly after the events of Scarborough. I am aware that Aesop tells the player of the battle taking place on a ship, but I am bending the story slightly aka taking some creative liberties 😗✌🏻

CW: Major character death, (auditory) hallucinations, overall angst

Word Count: 3.8k

Link to AO3 Version: can't catch me now.

Scarborough was decidedly one of those infernal places which seeped with indulgence and détente at every corner yet truthfully simmered with wretched delinquency and bitter peccancy enshrouded in its shadows.

At least if one were to ask Aesop Sharp what he thought of the place.

The town on the northern coast of Yorkshire was a far cry from how Aesop remembered the place. The last time he had stepped into the place, the air was cold and frigid, and the streets barren of any human soul, safe for the few lingering locals that stayed even when the travellers left. Scarborough was the epitome of splendour and abundant leisure, the upper class spending their summers far away from the sweltering and stifling heat of London and its boroughs and trading the sheer endless days of summer for the gentle breeze and wide horizons of the English coast. Aesop supposed that perhaps, in another life, he might have enjoyed the place himself, a life in which he had not stepped into the town as an Auror but as a traveller himself. Perhaps, he glaringly thought as he stood atop the hill bearing the ruins of the medieval Scarborough Castle, and his gaze swept across the vast horizon of the coast, he might have stayed with the upper echelons at the Grand Hotel himself, instead of the seedy tavern you and he had spent your final moments together.

Cursed be the Ministry and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for ever sending the two of you to the forsaken town at sea. And cursed be the Ministry and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for asking him to come back - to return to the scene of the end of one life and the eternal damnation of another.

It had been 178 days since that day.

178 days since he had last heard your voice, last seen your smile, last shared the quips you and he shared.

It had been exactly 178 days since your life had ended, and his had forever been changed.

Growling, Aesop turned away from the sun, his newly cursed leg starkly protesting the movement as he limped himself into the shadows of the castle, searching for just a semblance of respite from the stifling August heat. The damned thing ached beyond belief as if a million knives pierced his skin over and over again at his hip and spread down to his leg. It was a persistent reminder that the night you had lost your life happened, though the scar his soul bore was infinitely more agonising than his leg would ever be.

Glancing at the watch in his pocket, Aesop noted it was a quarter past three, his former supervisor late to their agreed-upon meeting and he had half a mind to apparate out of Scarborough and drown himself in firewhiskey in his home as he had done past 100 days since his release from St. Mungo's. Yet as he glanced upon the ruins once more, he recalled why he had come in the first place, the Ministry intent on gathering any intel from that night as they had yet to capture those who had slaughtered you in cold blood and thus Aesop stayed - he owed you that much.

You.

You had been a rather annoying thorn in Aesop's side from the second you had stepped into the Auror office, sauntering and high-strung with a burning thirst to do good in the world as you threw yourself into cases headfirst with reckless frivolity. Sometimes, he had wondered how you had passed the initial training stage at all, your hyper personality a stark contrast among the serious and battle-worn officials that littered the office. It was a personality beaten out of recruits over the lengthy training period, and while Aesop was a mere five years older than you had been, he doubted that you hadn't been exposed to the cruel realities of war and crime as any other recruit had been. You were an oddity - an eclectic fireball among the burnt-out personalities that were Aurors and Hit Wizards, and Aesop had loathed it.

When he had first been paired with you a mere two years before, he had all but begged his supervisor to reconsider, to pair him with anyone but you, but they had insisted.

"She's a promising young soul," the words echoed in Aesop's mind. "You will make a fine pair."

He had doubted it then, obviously. Denied any possibility of someone like you - skittish and genial - ever being a perfect match for him - staid and austere. Your first mission together had been a complete and utter disaster, for what should have been an easy arrest of a reprobate had turned into a full-blown battle you had fearlessly and recklessly charged into.

"Come catch me," you had giggled before abandoning all rules of basic Auror training and charging into the unknown.

While you had successfully apprehended the suspect and turned him over to the Ministry, the battle had commenced in broad daylight and enlisted five Obliviators to manage dozens of Muggles who had witnessed a heated exchange of spells and curses and had confined the two of you to desk duty for more than three months. Aesop had been seething with rage, desk duty the most mundane and imbruting tasks one could ever sentence an Auror to. He was a soldier, a shining paragon of honour and defence - not a desk clerk. It was a speck of dishonour among his otherwise pristine rise among the Aurors and it had all been because of your extroverted, verging on effusive personality.

You had not minded, of course, even making a joke of the situation and blathering on with what you thought droll jokes and enthralling stories, and Aesop had more than once snuck alcohol into the office, unable to take your disposition any other way. It had been freeing to return to active duty once more three months later, even if the task of simple observation had been mundane and hackneyed - at least it had been a change of pace.

It had seemed, at least, that you had at least learned after your idiotic endeavour, no longer charging into situations unknown but awaiting his command, for he remained your superior. Your demeanour had not changed otherwise, but at least he could count on a partner slightly more conscientious in the field. It was a win he did not relinquish, and your entire company seemed a little more bearable from that point on.

It hadn't been until one night of observation, eight months after your initial pairing, that he had been privy to see another side to you.

"You're quiet tonight," he had remarked as your gazes meticulously observed the seedy establishment where allegedly all sorts of prohibited deals and Faustian bargains were closed. "Oddly so."

"Sorry," you had mumbled in a half-hearted apology, your eyes not meeting his. "Long day."

"That's never stopped you before," he had snarked cruelly, the week long and tedious.

"Sorry," you had all but whispered again, shrinking slightly under his scrutinising glare. "I'll be sure to be less bothersome in the future."

"You are not -" he had begun to argue, stopping himself mere seconds later, for he was many things, but Aesop was not a liar. You had been bothersome.

A bitter laugh had escaped your throat, the sound paradox coming from you, of all people, when all he had seen of you was a person as jovial as someone drunk on Alihosty. "Exactly."

He had later found that your father had passed a mere fortnight earlier, and the burial had been that day. He had felt like a grand arse, swallowing down his pride and openly apologised for his behaviour and offered you a shoulder to cry on, though you had never actually taken him up on the offer. Instead, you had smiled gratefully before burying your grief beneath the infinite layers of frivolity and mirth he had grown accustomed to, and Aesop finds himself seeing you with the depths of your soul and all its paradoxing contrasts and within seeing you, he is falling for you.

It had been a slow realisation at first, from noticing how, instead of vexation, your laughter and stories brought a comforting sense of familiarity to laughing manically alongside you, confusing his colleagues, for nobody had ever seen Aesop Cyril Sharp smile that much.

You had slowly yet surely crept into his mind and heart, your being a beacon of amenity and Aesop was powerless to do anything but surrender to the shining light that was you.

The amicable partnership that had been between you blossomed into a bountiful and fulfilling romance, and with each passing day, it became more challenging to maintain a facade of his characteristic stoicism and the carefully curated illusion of mere friendship. Your superiors had been correct in their assumptions after all: You made a fine pair. It went unspoken between you that your romance could never see the light of day, the sheer scandal of a workplace relationship enough to silence even you, though Aesop yearned to show off how deeply you loved the longer it went on. Your blossoming romance transcended into your professional lives, too, the pair of you rising through the ranks and taking on more complicated and intricately woven cases as you helped bring justice to the Wizarding World.

Your keen and genuine yearning to bring goodness into a world littered with hardened criminals and devilish syndicates is nothing short of inspiring, and while you had never truly ceased to be slightly more reckless than you perhaps should have been, your prowess in battle was unmatched as no onslaught of chaos or destruction could hinder your sheer determination or force of will.

"Come catch me?" you had jokingly asked before each and every battle you and him found yourselves in, alluding to the disastrous first case, yet then Aesop found the words comforting rather than infuriating. It was as if you were making a silly game of a perilous situation, and while he had initially been hesitant to follow your jubilance, it had quickly become addicting.

"Come catch me?" had been the final words you had uttered to him in the place he now stood, the desolate ruins of a formerly stately palace cold and unforgiving as the bitter February winds had whisked along your heads and you had thrown yourself into a battle you'd never emerge from. The seedy smugglers you and he had been trailing for weeks had seemingly finally slipped; a contact Aesop had acquired telling him of a supposed incoming shipment of shrunken heads which was to be traded in the ruin of Scarborough Castle and then taken to over parts of the country via the port of the city. As Aesop reminisced on the minutes preceding that fateful battle, he only realised how foolish it had been to expect the man to have been working alone; how foolish it had been to expect a sudden contact was telling the truth. The arrogance with which he had displayed confidence, further emboldened by every battle you and him had won, was the beginning of the end.

From the second you had stepped from the shadows, you were ambushed by what seemed like an army of reprobates and scoundrels, lunging at the two of you with cruel precision in the pandemonium. The ruins of the castle upon the rocky promontory, once a symbol of royalty and defence, had been transformed into a brutal battlefield with colourful hexes and curses illuminating the night.

Aesop had scarcely been granted a second to draw upon his Auror badge, a clever charm allowing him to call for backup.

It was the first time he had felt genuine and true terror as he continued to fight alongside you, his feelings for you at the forefront of his mind as his role had turned from Auror to protector among the assailment of spells hurled your way.

As the seconds ticked by and it became more evident that the battle you were fighting was a losing one, Aesop had all but hoped you would retreat and run as far as you could, but he should have known better. You never backed down from a fight.

All too late, he had noticed the witch sneaking up on you with impeccable stealth before she drew upon her wand as your back was turned to hers, engaged in a duel of your own, and uttered the words which would void you of any life.

"Avada Kedavra."

You had fallen to the ground within a second, your body plummeting into the dirt as the witch cackled in sadistic delight upon having ended a life with a mere flick of her wrist, obliterating any future you might have had. Aesop could not recall what had transpired next, unadulterated mania consuming his body as he fired curse after curse at the witch who had taken you from this mortal coil, which she deflected with tantalising ease. His love for you, which had translated into his rage, had been his second mistake that night, and though now he wished it had meant the end of his life, it had allowed another to sneak up on him, uttering a strange curse and aiming at his leg, damning it to the pain he now felt with every step.

Aesop was unsure what happened after; the rest of the night, a blur of colour and shapes and overwhelming sentiments obscuring his memory before he awoke in St. Mungos again, and 178 days later, the memory of the night seemed far away as the sun illumed the grassy patches and rocks, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of summer instead of the fetid stench of decay.

Half past three, Aesop noted as he glanced at his pocket watch once more. Resigned, he sighed as he leaned against the cool stone, closing his eyes as he desperately tried keeping the weight off his bad leg as it spasmed and the pain etched itself into his very core. Damned be the blasted thing, and Aesop had no one to blame but himself.

A gentle breeze passed him by, the scent strangely familiar as it passed in a second. Aesop scrunched his nose, hoping to catch it again to identify the source, but all he got was a strange sound instead - a near-mocking giggle reaching his ears. His eyes shot open once more, the sound too close for him to be comfortable, yet as he searched the place, there was not a single soul in sight. His hand strayed towards his concealed wand, ready to fight, yet the place was quiet again, merely the breeze enveloping him in a cocoon of familiar and comforting smells. All too late Aesop realised that the scent was you, the tantalising allure of it nothing but a distant memory that continued to fleet the more seconds passed.

The giggle sounded again, his ears perking up as a presence clouds over him like a paradoxical embrace both chilling and warm, a gentle voice accompanying it.

"Come catch me."

Your voice hauntingly sounded around him, though there was no source to be determined. The words struck him like a hot iron, piercing his soul as Aesop feels as if he were struck by a physical blow. He blinked rapidly in almost visceral disbelief.

Had he just heard your voice? Aesop shook his head, trying to convince himself his mind was simply playing tricks on him, the proximity to the place of your demise aiding in his delusions. Another resigned sigh escaped him, deciding that if his superiors did not arrive within a minute or two, he would disapparate and schedule the meeting for another day, even if he was not terribly keen to return to Scarborough either way.

"Come catch me."

And there it was again, a sanctimonious sound ringing in his ears as your voice penetrated his senses and twisted his mind. It had to have been a trick - a cruel diversion. Yes, that must have been it. Aesop's mind was twisting and turning, forcing itself to remember that you couldn't be there. A shaking puff escaped his lips, air filling his lungs with a semblance of clarity as the echoes of your voice faded once more and all that was left was the gentle breeze and the rustling leaves with the chirping birds off the coast.

Enough was enough, Aesop determined, unwilling to wait a single second further in this forsaken place of demise and terror and anguish, his rickety leg carrying him through the wading grass before his mind could think of it any further and convince him to stay any longer. Damned be the Ministry - may they reach out any other time or kiss his arse, but to torture him with this was asking too much. How dare they ask this of him after all the months, wasting time and efforts when your murderer was still on the loose and -

Aesop stopped dead in his tracks, feet frozen to the ground as a surge of consternation and terror courses through him at the picture he was faced with.

There you were, standing in the clearing between the crumbling castle walls and the remains of the barbican, as if you had always been there. You were a shining beacon, seemingly untouched, with your clothes pristine and your countenance not cadaverous but as full of life as Aesop fondly remembered in his darkest nightmares and most precious dreams. A strange look had clouded your features, though your smile was as warm and familiar as it had always been. Aesop shakingly exhaled, his eyes not leaving yours as they held your gaze in sheer disbelief and poignancy he was unable to describe.

You stood as still as he as if awaiting his movements, though Aesop remained motionless - stunned by your sudden appearance. Was this a cruel trick? Or was it a gift from a deity pitying the man? Aesop would have described himself a Nihilist, yet there was no worldly explanation for this otherwise.

His mouth opened, then closed before a single sound could leave him, his chest constricting the more he gazed upon your frame, and he felt his heart beating erratically. One step forward, he told himself, his agonising leg a mere afterthought as he stumbled towards your vision, which stayed unmoving. Another stumbling step forward, hands reaching for the silhouette etched in his mind; a body so familiar to Aesop, like a painting whose lines he had drawn over and over - all your strengths and vulnerabilities - and he held onto your gaze fiercely, afraid that when he let go, so would you. Like a man possessed, he staggered through the grass, fearful that you would vanish if he did not reach you, as he imagined you retreating to a place he could no longer reach you.

Aesop's mind was a hollowed place filled with a cacophony of screams, mindlessly scrambling for answers - for reason. He wanted to scream, demand answers he had been searching for since that harrowing night.

Come catch me, he could hear your voice ringing in his head.

One more step. Just one more, Aesop told himself.

A second more, but before his hand could reach for yours, a firm hand clamped around his shoulder, grounding him to the spot. Aesop whipped around, hand on his wand and ready to fight as a piercing pain shot up his spine, shooting him down, hissing and groaning.

"Bloody hell, Sharp," Aesop could hear the deep timbre of Eleazar Fawley, his former superior, as he knelt on the ground, pain flooding his system as he groaned in an effort to suppress the screams at the back of his throat. His vision blurred as he focused on the ground, the viridescent grass beneath him soft between his fingertips as it ground him to the earth.

"What the fuck, Eleazar?" Aesop hissed after a while, still feeling the pressure of Eleazar Fawley's hand as he slowly raised himself, further suppressing the screams which threatened to escape his throat as his blasted leg ached and spasmed under the pressure, having been used far more in a mere two hours than it had been in the last couple of months passing him by. Aesop turned to face Fawley, a man of unimpressive stature or height, with a face marred by years of brutal combat, though his presence was imposing nonetheless. The man's most extraordinary edge had always been his unremarkableness; many a foe underestimated him and paid the price with a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Aesop glared at him, though Eleazar Fawley remained unimpressed, if a little leery in his questioning gaze.

"What the fuck is an apt sentiment," Eleazar Fawley mused as he removed his hand from Aesop's shoulder. "Because why the fuck do I arrive to you staggering through these ruins like a man possessed, ashen like a ghost? Are you out of your mind?"

Aesop flouted the man, turning around to where you had stood as your voice had finally ceased to echo in his head, only to realise the spot was vacant once more; any trace of your phantom vanished as if it had never been there in the first place. His mind reeled, void of anything but you and your ephemeral vision.

"Sharp?" he heard the questioning tone of Fawley again. "Is everything alright?"

Aesop looked around once again, his eyes sweeping over the place, desperately looking for only a hint of you or even a testament that you had been there, but the place was void of any other soul but him and Eleazar Fawley, leaving nothing but a lingering feeling of mournful longing and haunting despair in its wake.

"Yes," Aesop hesitantly mumbled after a while, returning to look at his former boss. "Everything is perfectly fine."

The man in front of him nodded, and though the disbelief was evident in his eyes, Aesop gratefully noted he refrained from prying any further, though whether this was out of the goodness of his heart or genuine disinterest, Aesop did not know. He stood up straighter, though he scarcely reached Aesop's shoulders and let out a huffing breath before his gaze hardened once more and became the picture of collected lassitude Aesop was accustomed to.

"Right then," Fawley cleared his throat, turning around to walk away. "Then let's not dally any further and get this over with."

Aesop nodded in compliance, slowly forcing himself to follow as your voice rang in his ears once more.

Come catch me.

Once more, he looked over his shoulder, hoping to see you smiling at him with the familiar impish glint your eyes held before you charged into battle, yet the fields stayed clear, and Aeosp bitterly realised that nothing remained of you but your shadows haunting the ruins of Scarborough Castle, tormenting his mind as he would forever be unable to catch you now.

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the-voxel · 2 months

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Journal Entry Two

I awoke this morning to John's soft sounds of discomfort. It was a moment before I remembered where I was, but then the previous night's events returned to me. I am stranded on an unknown alien world with only one know survivor of my crew other than myself, and the locals have us in their village. I admit, when I woke this morning my spirits were not high.

We were brought breakfast by an handful of locals. They were lead by an older individual who leaned on a can for support and had a greying beard and was decorated in what I could only guess was ornamentation to designate his high social status. But my eyes were not drawn to his jewels and braided wire jewelry. No. My eyes were beckoned by a flash of emerald green that reflected for a moment to dazzle the entire room in dancing green light as it passed through a beam of early morning light. The green belonged the a local girl who, instead of the standard blues of the other members of her people, had hair that was green as a rare gem and shiny as the rare spider silk thread of Homeworld IV.

Before I gathered my thoughts, her and the others set down trays of fruit and some sort of porridge and left the room. I was then alone with only the elder, who began to speak gently to me.

His language was strange to me. His voice reminded me of my days as a boy, hunting deer on the King's land for meat and scurrying home when I heard a guard to avoid arrest. And when the elder spoke some words, it almost sounded like two voices speaking at once, but the words came from his mouth alone. He must have realized I have no home of understanding, because he moved to John's side and put a hand on my companion's chest, then made a sound like rattled breathing.

I listened carefully to John's breath, my ear to his chest, and found it was true. John seemed to have fluid of some kind building in his lungs. An easy fix if I could go back to my ship and salvage medical supplies.

I attempted to explain as much, but the old man could not understand the wider galaxy's civilized speech. A minor frustration, but nothing I am not equipped to work around.

After an exchange of charades, I was allowed out of the hut, which was a blessing as the ceiling was so short I could not stand up properly.

Outside in the light of day, I was able to finally breath. The air here is rich, making it easy to feel awake and invigorated. I will have to retrieve equipment for testing, but I can see the lack of pollution and feel the high oxygen levels. I would love to know what else I am breathing.

The gravity of the world is somewhat low, which made my spirits feel lighter, and my hopes rise to the belief that I can make the best of this situation.

Once I took stock of the location, it became evident that this village was larger than my initial estimate. I expected only a few dozen, or a hundred individuals at this location. But after a short walk, I can say there are at least a thousand people living in this town.

The place is in full flood, and I speculate that as a normal seasonal occurrence, as all the streets are made of raised boardwalks, and houses are built on stilts.

A wooden wall surrounds the entirety of the village, with guard stations mounted to the top. And one thing I had to learn fairly quickly, through a complicated exchange, all washrooms are mounted on the wall. When I approached one, I expected little more than an outhouse that dumped my excrement into the water outside. Imagine my surprise to be met with genuine plumping, and pipes that took it away to a safe distance. From what I could see through the little peephole, they use an aquifer system to take sewage to fields, where I can only assume it is used to fertilize crops.

Alas I have saved the most vexing technological feature for last. Over the sky of the entire village is a dome of energy, one that looks almost as sophisticated as the energy barriers used in space faring races. This dome seems to be powered by several massive crystals that buzz with energy. I will investigate this further.

My efforts to go to my ship were in vain. Any time a local realized my intent to leave the wall, I was immediately barred from exit. Every gate was guarded by locals in grey uniforms. No amount of explaining my urgency swayed their ruling.

Eventually I went back to John, who was awake by this time. I explained the situation, and, ever a good friend, he told me to calm my nerves. He had been tended to with the strange medicine of these creatures, and for now was okay. I shall focus for now on gaining enough trust to be allowed outside of the walls of this village.

PREV - NEXT

#journal entries #voxel tech #voxel architecture

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infranthrax · 2 months

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so i had an idea way back when but i never executed it. now since lotusswan and longanswan are a thing now i can ☺️ this may become a series. let me know what you all think!

a memory is being recorded… hold on… ✨

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒, 𝐖𝐄

longan dragon cookie vs. lotus dragon cookie

cw || longanswan and lotusswan ships

tw || toxic relationship mechanic, gaslighting, implied forced separation/character death, and overall longan being the sociopathic prick they were born to be

synopsis :: sugar swan is interjected into the harsh reality of two dragons— with longan’s everlasting dreams of “purifying the world,” and lotus trying to bring her some kind of solidarity, through through the means of doing the exact thing longan did to them.

word count :: 3.2k words

wing to wing, they danced around…

stamping their feet with a flumpy sound…

embracing treasure, as dragons ought…

this is the treasure they nightly thwart.

in the times of old, before the dark flour war, there was a young dragon, serpentine, and ruling of the many lotus flowers that grew from a mystical cave of light and purity. the dragon had a companion, hailing from the valley yonder, with hair as crème as her fellow lilies, eyes of red rubies, and a gentle smile akin to sunlight kissing cold skin.

however, the serpentine’s guardian heeded forth— hear their ring… “they are but a cookie. you are a dragon. that is an unfathomable relationship that no one would even muster.” the serpent pleaded with their guardian, each passing day and night they felt as though they were excused; it only pushed their fleeting love downward. they were hushed, yet vocal, they pushed on— their faith evergreen: “but… I love her, father.”

the guardian looked down upon their kin with a look of downcast, not feeling sorry, but rather pity. feeling as though their son was misguided somehow, they let out a disgruntled sigh, turned their back away, and left with their only parting words being:

“If you truly loved them, one must let them go.”

the dragon of the caves where the lotus flowers bloomed in the crystal waters never saw her again after that fateful meeting. they later spent their days not playing their beloved mandolin but mourning… suffering in the depths of loneliness and sorrow. the young serpent did not know of the perversions that their guardian had in store for them. to be true, one could say that the poor serpent had… witnessed too much— learned too much too early. was taught things that young children should never witness… but, alas…

little do the dragons know, however, that… children are quite adaptive, and remember more than their parents tend to believe.

Perceptive, we.

flash forward to days of recent, where the cave is just as prosperous as it was in the older days. the sky illuminates the inside however as erosion has plagued the stone above. the now mighty dragon, once a childish snake now a grand serpent, even though they very much preferred the indoors and the comfort of their palace, couldn’t help but not pass the beauty of the day. a stroll was in order. hydrangea cookie, their beloved attendant, brimmed and beamed with delight at the great serpent's decision, quickly retrieving their favorite umbrella. heading up to the surface they were greeted with a gentle gust of wind and the everlasting glow of the sun. slithering onward into the valley as green as emeralds, onto a nice path, lotus holds their umbrella that graciously shields them from the cruel rays of the sunlight above. a gentle smile they wore, they cascaded down into a garden.

a garden of lilies.

this was her home. lotus looked about the garden in the lushness of the valley that extended downward into a gorgeous forest. they looked at a singular flower that grew on a part of the terrain that had risen. a vibrant white lily… having been blessed with rain, its dewdrops made it as though it was glistening with glitter. lotus slowly made their way towards the singular flower, crouching down to look at it more closely. they smiled at the flower through dimly lit turquoise eyes, and an old wound reopened in the pit of their stomach. hydrangea cookie walked up to them slowly, looking down at their crouched form. she noticed that they started to lightly quiver the longer they stayed in that position. “hydrangea,” the serpent suddenly spoke, their voice cold and creaky, almost sounding like they were going to cry, but were holding themselves back with everything they had, “hydrangea, i want this flower.” the attendant next to them nodded, and immediately bent down to pick the lily from the ground but was suddenly stopped by one of lotus’s rushed hands. hydrangea looked up at lotus with a hint of worry.

“what’s wrong?” she asked softly. their brows furrowed as they looked solemnly at the flower below them. “be gentle— matter of fact, let me.” they croaked as they pushed hydrangea’s hand to the side. they then carefully took the bottom of the stem of the lily and gently pulled it upward at the root, releasing it from the ground. with the lily now in lotus’s hand, they extend upward and gaze at the valley around them, being flooded with a garden of extravagant white lilies. carefully circling on the path, their attendant moves over to the side to not trip over Lotus’s tail. “hydrangea, close that thought…” they started, hushed as they spoke as the valley of white lilies clouded their vision. Slowly coming to a stop, they turn to hydrangea cookie and pull her in closer to them at their side, gesturing them to look out at the valley. “i want all of these. i want them to be planted at the palace. t hey shall be pieces of memorabilia.” lotus then began to slither away from hydrangea only to turn back to her from a small distance away.

“we shall gather the rest of the attendants here tomorrow morning to uproot all of these lilies, and i personally shall arrange a menagerie for them. a menagerie to commemorate the memory of the lilies.” hydrangea blinked a bit, surprised by her master’s sudden passion for the lilies in the valley. there was a lot that their attendant knew about their beloved master, however, there was still a lot to uncover, as lotus primarily keeps to themselves a lot of the time. She knew not to question lotus or their motives, but the curiosity was killing her. She felt like she had to indulge.

“may I ask why, great dragon?” taking a leap of faith by asking them the question, they expected them to be bothered with her, but instead, after lotus had reopened their eyes, they gave hydrangea a kind, small smile. “you know I like flowers.” they responded, before deciding to circle back around. “now, come. I have plans tonight and I have not the time to waste.” hydrangea only nodded as she hurried towards lotus’s side once more, to stroll with them back to the palace where they would repose for the rest of the day. but, as lotus said, they did have special plans reserved for the night ahead. the attendants rested to sleep for the night, but lotus’s nighttime activities, on the contrary, are unknown to them all. whatever lotus does in the night is… not very well known to a lot of attendants besides hydrangea cookie, who often stays up until lotus dragon retires. But, up in the dragon's chambers lies not just the air of fragrant lotuses—fresh and clean, but the sweet aroma of sugar and vanilla, all accompanied by a pinkish-fuchsia glow.

soft pink feathers accompanying her lilac hair, shine and straight as it died down to a sister’s sunset. a fair smile graced her lips as her velvet purple eyes remained closed when she drank her tea. a gown made of the finest fabrics— those of cream and royal blue, embroidered with the finest gold. she was the epitome of beauty, even in the olden days she was known to be pure, full of good faith, and glorious to all who gazed upon her… or, she seemed that way, at the very least.

sugar swan, a woman of the arts, was known as a woman who ruled over a sugary paradise. little did she know that she would also be feared— in the days of old, the all-powerful longan dragon stood frequently by her side as they watched her rule over her kingdom of the isles. longan dragon was, and still is, her polar opposite, though it is true to say that in their case, opposites do attract. But, what was she doing at the lotus palace, of all places? a lot of lotus’s attendants wondered the same as well, as they don’t haven’t been expecting company as of late, but they have been told to greet her with kindness and warmth whenever she visits, no matter how late or early she may be.

she sets her small jade tea glass back down on the grainy wooden table underneath her, her graceful smile still ever present, decorated by a light sheen of the tea she drank and the gloss that adorned her blushed lips.

“do you not recognize the fault in your ways?”

sugar swan urged as she walked along with longan dragon in their palace, trying to stop them from ignoring her. she needed them to hear her, to listen to her for once. she quickly paced in front of them, their gentle hands meeting the dragon’s silken robes. “my dear, you misunderstand them, please..! …please, even if you wish not to, please listen to me.” longan looked down at the sweet swan, an indifferent look decorating their grey face, golden eyes agleam. she has their attention now.

“you’re misunderstanding the point of the cookies— their existence is not pointless, great dragon. evolution seeks to create life, and that life i wish to protect. i wish for you to spare them.” her voice was soft yet stern, and her hands pushed softly on their chest, beckoning them to stay as they pushed against her. their eyebrows softly furrowed, clearly displeased with sugar swan and their attempt to stop their plans. although they have vastly contrasting views, they’re still together, even if it means they have to borderline hate each other. “sugar swan, you are not listening yet again to the atrocities you spit,” they started, putting a rough clawed hand to her shoulder, “these crunchy beings are destructive. they will destroy the world i have watched for centuries. the world my sons and daughter have had the glory of aiding in flourishing. all was right. and it needs to stay that way.”

moving sugar swan gently out of their way, they slowly pace, their shoes gently clacking with the marble quartz floors of their palace, full reflections bouncing off of its surface. the golden glimmer of the palace walls, the trimming, it was all an illusion of what longan was— grand, strong, all-powerful, and beautiful. they surely seemed that way to many…

wrong, they were.

“that. that, my treasure… is how order is achieved.”

walking up to sugar swan once more, they took their hand and took her by the jaw. their harsh, golden eyes that were sleep deprived, sunken in yet glorious, they looked— bore into hers made of amethyst. her hand met their wrist, as she tried to convince him otherwise with no words. “my treasure, you know that I am doing you a favor,” longan dragon spoke softly, like the very first demon that beckoned the pure, “the favor of restoring order for you. you need not worry about lifting a finger— one is ready to assist you in any way possible, you know that.” “and your way of ‘restoring order’ is by means of causing chaos to the cookies..? by taking what was graciously handed to them away?! you want to cause mass genocide just to fulfill your selfish wishes, how dare you!”

“I AM NOT A MURDERER.”

the sudden tonal shift that longan exhibited caused the woman before them to jolt suddenly, looking into his blazed golden slits, once subdued by a blackened abyss that surrounded them. putting a gentle hand on their wrist, she started to urge them, borderline pleading with them. the palace seemed to start to tremble as a bolt of lightning could be heard from outside, striking the waters below. “…my dear, i… i’m sorry—“ “i will never expect you to understand, i won’t make you understand. but you will come to understand me.” longan blurted, cutting sugar swan off,

“and I never go back on my word.” longan crept onto sugar swan, causing her to slowly recoil backward as longan walked forward. she eventually bumped into a column that longan pinned her to, raising both of her wrists to the cold quartz surface, their leg prying in between her own as they looked at her with eyes of cruel certainty, as though they were telling her to wake up— to walk with them rather than away from them. they leaned down and whispered in her ear,

“you have told me you would live for me, yes?”

her head swiveled over to the side as she then felt their hand at her throat, gently gracing her skin with sharp nails that could at any moment, spill her beloved blood on his floors. she let out a huddled breath and put a hand to their chest, slightly frightened by the psychosis longan dragon exhibited. she knew that they were trying to manipulate her using their relationship as a crutch, but it was just easier to make them think she was complying than to face their heated anger, coated in a borderline bipolar shell.

“of course…”

she would reply. longan removed their hand from their throat and delivered a sweet kiss to the shell of her ear, moving their hand to her hips and pushing them further up their thigh still, pushing her closer to them on the column. their breath was hot against her skin which only made her quiver. licking up her neck, they replied against her skin,

“would you die for me?”

slowly swiveling her head back around, she looked straight ahead as the dragon that suffocated her sense of space stood before her, their head craning into their neck delivering soft yet sharp peppers of kisses as their teeth collided with the flesh of her neck and shoulder, gently coaxing her with sweet, affirming actions that were but of mockery. her eyes darted to them, her teeth gritted inside her mouth as a bead of sweat lingered and gathered on her temple, her soft lilac hair glistening in the golden lights of the palace— something of a ruse to cover the doubt and uncertainty that she had stowed away within her conscience. her hand softly slid down their chest, following to their own. looking back down at her and removing themselves from the crook of her neck, she responded, quietly…

“yes.”

longan looked down at sugar swan, now with a small smile as they raised a hand to her delicate cheek, cupping it gently. giving it a pat, they then move away from the column, relinquishing them of the right of her bubble. stepping back from her did she step forward, putting a hand to her chest to clear her throat. she looked at them as they walked to their right, looking back at her with a soft smile, something that was rare to see on them.

“then, if that was the case, i do believe that you would make an effort to understand the paramount of this venture and the good it would cause.”

they walked from her, a twisted look on her face. she also had walked away from the column, distraught with her own conflicting emotions about longan, why oh why were they like this? playing the pied pipers in their shared chambers, she sat on her side of the bed, tears in her eyes.

Just like now.

Back in the now.

“is there something the matter, dear sugar swan?” lotus craned forward, setting their jade cup down, and noticed the singular tear in her mauve eyes. seeing this they took a gentle finger and set it to her eyes, wiping away those tears that threatened to fall down her face. “pretty bird, don’t cry,” lotus charmed as their hand slowly lowered from sugar swan’s cheek, “whatever brings you discomfort, my dear?” sugar swan looked up at the dragon in front of her that was lotus dragon— longan’s third son and the second youngest among the draconic brood. their pale eyelashes softly blinked as their hua dian shone in the dull purple light. she couldn’t help but see longan in lotus. but they already knew that. lotus has always strived to be the opposite of their father, while still being cunning in their own light. with a psychopathic charm did Lotus garner, a sweet air and a merciful smile. they looked at sugar swan longingly as they intentionally made a quick choice to absorb rather than just listen like they usually did with the cookies of the paradise. after all, sugar swan wasn’t like the other cookies— she was a creature like them.

“lotus dragon, i know you know your father better than i. why do they do the things they do?” she asked painfully. her eyebrows were furrowed with confusion and doubt as her voice cracked. lotus closed their turquoise eyes, similar to longan’s with the back sea— a glowing blue diamond in the rough. opening them back up after a moment of thought, they spoke, a velvet, yet smooth and calm voice filling the air. “longan is a strange man. i can tell that they have hurt you,” they spoke softly, going to cup one of sugar swan’s cheeks in their hand. she took the top of their hand in the palm of hers as she cut him off.

“but why?—“

“longan is very arrogant and closed-minded in their beliefs. it does not surprise me in the slightest that they would have these expectations of you to help them carry out their new world design. however, that isn’t like you. you are the life to their death, and they cannot seem to realize, my dear bird, that what they see in you is flawed.” lotus then stood up from their coiled sitting position, slithering around their dimly lit chambers, almost tracing their tea table in a circle. sugar swan looked around as they perused her, looking at them as they calmly slithered around. stopping right behind her, they leaned forward, putting both of their hands on the bottom of her jaw, cupping her face, and holding it forward.

“what they see is not what they see— they see not but a marxist dream that has a crude foundation, only one you can demolish.” surely, lotus dragon knew what they were talking about. When longan betrayed lotus that very fateful day, they made sure to send a clear message, and even though it seemed not to dispel the ivory dragon, it did bring peace to the lotus paradise, despite it costing a hellish, flooded, storm-ridden hellscape. sugar swan realized this from the tales, the stories she had heard from wind archer about a so-called “day of reckoning.”

the same touch lotus had was just as featherlight as the one that longan possessed, and upon this realization, sugar swan quivered in fear, yet with a hint of realization. the only difference in this; what lotus was explaining to her… longan was indeed very subdued by their own psychosis, knee-deep in a senseless delusion that marks a vision of self-serving utopia, all for what? all for their plan to turn to damnation as evolution naturally takes its course? for sure, longan would end up swiping sugar swan in a loop, a never-ending dramatic loop that would ultimately lock her up in a gilded, golden cage with no key and no lock. life needs death to thrive, but luck is but a factor that is gambled.

“do you understand?”

#📍|| infra is logging…#cookie run ovenbreak #memory bank #quick access #files application #longan dragon cookie #lotus dragon cookie #sugar swan cookie #longanswan #lotussugar

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avalon821 · 9 months

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Au ra August Day 1: Home

Tyr rolled over in his bed. The morning sun laid gently down on his face. The sound of waves not too far away blending with the birdsong while across the room he could hear his sister rooting in the dresser.

The door opened.

“Papa!” She cheered before being shushed and directed downstairs.

His papa nudged his shoulder.

“Tyr? Wake up. Breakfast is ready.”

Tyr shot up. “Mama cooked without me?”

His papa laughed. “Yes. Your da has to leave soon and she didn’t want to interrupt your sleep.”

The boy ran out of the room (not before grabbing his beloved stuffed rabbit) knocking into a wall while trying to veer towards the stairs.

He descended quick as he could. Alas, as happens with speed, he tripped, the ground coming fast. He brought his arms to his face bracing himself for the inevitable bruises and scrapes.

“Woah! Careful buddy!”

The impact hadn’t gone as he expected. Instead of cold hard ground, it was soft, warm and his…

“Da!”

“Good morning.” His da said shifting Tyr into a proper hold and kissing his head. He was already mostly dressed. Tyr knew his bag was at the door ready for their owner to leave with his aunt.

“You can hold your boy or you can eat Varrick.” His mama called, coming in with a plate of food. His da sighed setting him down. Tyr went straight towards the table where his sister sat. His papa laughed giving his da a kiss from his loss. His mama gently thwipped him with her tail as she passed and joined her children.

———

Tyr laid wide awake in the hammock. The only sounds were the waves, the groan of the ship, and snoring from the other travelers. (Travelers he calls them, not refugees)

The ocean was vast. A longer route than the land sure, but one that would risk an encounter with the empire the least.

It was cold. His blanket was scratchy. But in the bunk below him slept his father with his cane propped up next to him.

————

The wind howled and the rain beat the sides of the tent.

Both of them had done away with their armor and outermost layers. They sat side by side, legs and shoulders brushing against each other.

Tyr consciously kept his tail on the opposite side of Estinien, lest he find it around the other man’s waist.

Neither of them spoke. There was nothing further to be said about the war against the empire, nor the reunion of the two dragons and their departure to their home.

He counted it lucky that he’d run into Estinien on the other side of the world. No matter the circumstances.

————

Finally, they had been all assembled in Raktika. The lost scions together once again. The stew the Night’s blessed was delicious. The little hideaway in the forest was mostly quiet, save for the occasional beast call that felt like it cut right into his horns.

He could now picture the group as their active conscious selves rather than the motionless husks they were back on the source.

He watched on as the twins bickered about something.

————

Tyr was tired and sore and really about ready to fully fall back on his bed and pass out. An itch had begun to nag him under his bandages one again.

But if he slept… well he’d miss out on discovering what corner Estinien would lean against or which twin would tuck themself against which of his sides. Or who took what chair to sleep in. Or who would end up sprawled on the floor in a pile. (A comfortable looking couch had been hauled in and had been unanimously given to his father.)

He wanted to wait. To watch. To confirm to himself that they’d all made it. No one was dead this time. No one was lost.

He wanted to feel himself breathe the air. To take them full and deep. (The feel of blood clogging his lungs while broken ribs caused pain with each attempt at a shallow gasp haunted his mind while asleep.)

“I promise you nothing will happen.” G’raha whispered. “You are safe. We are safe. You have been cared for by the very best of Sharlyan. Five of us are practiced in the healing arts. If anything were to go wrong there is someone right here to help.

“Rest my friend. You are home.”

#ffxiv #wol #warrior of light #tyr #Tyr Haragin #au ra august #hopefully I can commit and do all the prompts #I’m gonna try and do a mix of writing gpose and drawing #mostly to make it easier to be committed to this #I don’t have anam so not multi char goose for me ;-;#one day I’ll get a computer that can handle mods

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libidomechanica · 1 day

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“What a catastrophe, the third-” — “Hold”

A curtal sonnet sequence

Stanza the First

—Thus held Juan, too,—did she? And though me those ruddie gemmes or was immersion to scream. Noblest pedigree they sayne, other had told, how darling And that froward laughter. The shadow smells, and sand tide. Like to soldiers where your sky, this close a running trade; for Donna Julia swooned, nor do wrong must paint my way, their arms bare of Fame? His song oars and No, into her free! Now, O sire, grant glooms. What a catastrophe, the third-’—Hold!

Stanza the Second

Only another head to heal as if he conversation I came close at home, those who sins of false, and the sages, till likeness lays on earth bring’st they sang a softness well as sole replied there might be shipp’d light Emperour, she whole, breathing a heau’nly Child, its hares, and yellow guineas for very stone one moment. Nobody know then ensured, barbarous Don Juan’s heart aflame. Closet and speed him much care: we knew him night.

Stanza the Third

’ I trust, may yet she flight; and against me in my seal a sun-flowers by heart beats the nature waited on his place of a backgammon board, whose witless described my pen that brainpan were sent you a debt, that which you took a survey up alive. And the patent-age of man, whose lonely trite; not a moment too. One faith, I do it was left uncancell’d, and transpired: so my sister, and feature grows higher summon lack.

Stanza the Fourth

Beginning; but that Psyche, ’ Cyril. When let me statue withal sweet notes each eye and the briar’d path is not for you. Fearing not feel not lost thou wert made up now; each his very same if th’ earthly read; her he man love your land, or to be made a hare her: then what I may be unfather, rapidly, like garden-key—Fly—fly— Adieu! ’ He who lives them very well; go troubles and pass, and she would but see it a things?

Stanza the Fifth

Great ships which as the families, kings began at once or two, or our left, some fool? Abate thy waist, and through the soyle would have fled from high, sdeath! And gazed there’s the found him. As virtue, but soon, it spreads in a clime, he world’s blessing flesh is undisguise, that indeed I sing amiss. Eased to lives and forth thy love, I mean a suit in which, yearn. He faster multitude on the come tomorrow the night divine. Each day ask you need.

Stanza the Sixth

If she was no doubt not you, drink my fill a panoramic view of him its ethereal lues, or famisht case? The scope of man, which I see him did known; till I file the pole, as it bolted, that only mothers have been other; the heathenish crossed, and all thing in the wonder the Tyrans make me those of gold; a belt of human heart, tis truth, with morning: hie ask me not the old lady also would travel forth it?

Stanza the Seventh

Towards most kingly flowers; baba led Juan. Which had o’er it was no one could run to buy. So was he died yesterday and proscenium of hell: he had quit, and drawn the lonely rich: but, alas, before you wilt had some lived of more has not of Woman born? Into the bell tolled him she bore; she order’d by his hand of flowers; but when the mathematic hands, and yet men as well, but I grow vice—curiosity: I knew.

Stanza the Eighth

Make him that killed through dashed with the cry that loves, the rose, as Cuddie, as ye may. Thy feet he kissed their mantle to each that Inez had, ere morning, or evil days were to thee by a handle. We now though Eve her aim—his heart; another, her you in a light of clareted; and their beard of the English newspapers, but loved China, touching giaours, or sleep, having. Her brows bent with a notions are a dolefull want to her face.

Stanza the Ninth

Pain, you may come the low.—They with his future; that they went then? Don Juan’s feast wouldst print more chaster it,—so young a holly by shepeheards swayne you got a day crawling hills. Let us, and consolation aids our promise to me have change their success the apparatus of all. My Spectre around so close flank’d me dearly; that prickling eye, thye neuer knee—like the strictures the avarice, of a hope he’s drunkening more.

Stanza the Tenth

I am not dazzled the three captains no more—Oh! Our enemies have shrunk as a mine: she knew by her languish does not for love let’s know what was long exercise about this chin, and green coverlid of your laughing passion, like swallow common privileges of health briers, mourn’d as old candle-light—swear it—our Ida hearsal and such cherub to perish on Myrna Loy. Their death of June, close upon a dulling boards.

Stanza the Eleventh

Sigh Gulbeyaz’ eyes, in them orphans: first the fair. The chest wall is Venus when we once know, they glides from stared to must be well. ’—Your hunger, toss, and swing. Were in sleepe, for Juan, and prosper well; perhaps t were near. Behind. The lady, how like a wintry shrieking not Itself with our hunger, help; speak, and her has turn not—no, no—while still the fire. For no more—no more. Is very clime— with thirst: for stopt one more the heart. Could still his price.

Stanza the Twelfth

Both fortune and held by no more! And lost think our cheek open. The distaff, web, and o’ersnow’d all on the streams of time and there is no doubt a little cry, than such gems was born of life, to whom, when the night chemise as we embrace; or say with flowers, rush on Myrna Loy, carole Lombard, Paulette Goddard, coy jean Arthur witchcraft is crazed beyond the mellow guineas for fact; that are fair: to dance with a kiss the wonder we.

Stanza the Thirteenth

Curse change my chilled, she came, until the cobweb woven across our people doorknobs gleaming a counsel—Juan, too, by an earth, and there divulged then hate will know not haply I thinke turned to multitudes of many a sparkle form, and clap a white, alas! My thirsty asphalte ring there always mourn half this brows of Agripping of the loves will not so unhappy reign: so stood and fooles can vie: her small disposed tight, I knew.

Stanza the Fourteenth

Love a word in their parental scrupulosity; but still their injured by sorrow. For eyther the flies away. Julia whom on the day. For thing to see thought to pray because to give than were those with their tools; i’ve got new saving washed again; I was as goblins, but not bliss that brain an only stoop’d to heart, teaching the snow, or by those kindly am serving the mind in their sight, closet flew. Apt to wishes; granted.

Stanza the Fifteenth

Feels, petal, a letter close upon yours has blight hand any interfered, as kind, I seem the land! My memory of this savage virtue ebb’d, I know they could that he had occasion for priefe to light yet, I thought with respects in the four daughter, the loved nor grieve their vice, daily press’d defense can given, an’ ken ye lyst, ye iolly hat, the cob. Let break and honey, all caruen thus throat, she wilds they came, and, unawares.

Stanza the Sixteenth

That needs no one could see her break a proud completely fickle, with rope to breakfast, yts time, sinew-corded in a coof wi’ a tocher sae weary until his ancient epic renegade, who bent into their grisly twined’ or transport of euils is sheepes clothes, or his laboured downward test, Juan too much: nor care, that through and farewell! Twilight with perplex the face the shape was no great broke a genial flushed hence. Helpless eye.

Stanza the Seventeenth

Power, a laughter, while I melt; make trial. But he came to the sky, and lo, it was na sae ye glinted beautiful, or less day how did his moths from their axes: lo the old her, and say what ships, together insult but she not enamour’d silk; next Juan some brawling on her the first: thoughts canst not true! Out of the black friends for who dote; nor at least shepheards burnt sorcerer’s cloak, to dwell; perhaps, next Heaven had deeper silver.

Stanza the Eighteenth

Your battled discourse; graceful and pausing on the door. Soon my sighs, the stay’d in the little sore at then brake on all his best o’ Beauty’s doom but wit, confus’d nor grows: but with care, that I deeme, and divine. And make the wrath I held, that held to kiss till it hold? Six weeks our lap, and ride. A knife, both joy will find, ’ I tell me, doth sit, and the blushes o’er a broken, repletion to my love her head might grow tired of her safe.

Stanza the Nineteenth

—Death I bought less of ease, the ruined. And shiver to sharp For my neck of woman is enough full stare. And a gallant Princess. So that should not Wordsworth in little lady’s future twining reversion from thee in such unholy ground, and would be. For the Thief to Papa. A glass is so modestly said: but false in death. He force, with whose scouts with long as that b-b-b- breaks. To see a kindling, but Cyril, Madam—hist!

Stanza the Twentieth

And has serene creating sun. Let me many moe. His eyes, was but power; your chest and maimed, thought, nor can college gown, he puzzled by a river since your wine my wit for many days are all her man share let female hand watch their full accompanions, where euen Stella, fierce remonstrance needs beauty throat like our fairer and proffer in an imprint a bribe. Like some days; unwrapping willow: ’twas Bacchus and Melissa—you!

Stanza the Twenty-first

From his hand talk, as is that is, nothing, and attendants, who was no entrances, and Campbell, Moore. She look’d, and pull it slays the worst, her head, nor tasted tears are bought hers hue, and there among the other, not doubt, and brought, and to a gilded boats, stitch’d in stately scann’d, of the meadows, when he drifting on the has paid on earth, to see it. ’ By this barren way, they setting those two old for one, which grow ugly; for the sweet maid!

Stanza the Twenty-second

I saw those of Potiphar, they like the mind: musician, painted, odd thou dost pose,— but you—she’s lecture she might be his separate door or Hebrew noun which shone and boats and elm have thee to her chart, and if there is a cause birthright be forget, the late beds. Are two must be best widely as the wonder half-right in less omissions, particular song. Groves, when men knows, and even a shield man sideways, that General whispers maim.

Stanza the Twenty-third

Love too barbarous, would rob then done, we planet closed a bonie white neck like a hollows they shone of his silent state the striue, such prison-wall, the played upon her; the night, where, you say, until I die! With such and of the soul—the dim cell lying chief, that men dinner cost, like Adam fell: mething quite a boat tacks, accorded wife, and repair in conflicted of the fireside a lineal son of her of the nation.

Stanza the Twenty-fourth

Wonder, the sun and see dread they found no hide us, Cyril told high, so that which is no show it would not by circumstance fountain-jets, and then, in time. Noblest people were near her ever gaz’d, but cherish’d necks, we vanquish’d sword, and in, from blazoned lion, glaring what was shown even disdain, her place far; thus Horace by his tree? At hand, we sat in her friendship for a house of war the deep purple dyes; carve it be.

Stanza the Twenty-fifth

For little girls, ten or fifty wise no eyes are, if she sport and let the sons were and so forth having short sample—t were sigh did frame, and find may he put out, and so fond, so tender the second lines have been the long although every climes in canto meet. Then wilt this I must love it a jewel. In their wine with the cloud may sport and my doubt thou wert most for the come to speak: let thy white rose-bud’s the light that are both their heads.

Stanza the Twenty-sixth

—God know that whitherto have drunkenness. To come transgressions greater kind. The grateful, monster of dark. Juan contact; and the best end at her arms, which strange of Heaven seventy years my little her Dame, all mankind’s, my dainty cheek, and sacrifice, which its faint on the vintage, wrought; and eddied in our own domestic quarrel with some slight refection to my love with her by a new one can be no long a great dreamboats?

Stanza the Twenty-seventh

That has tantalizes longer. Of chivalry, tis a genial flush her own. But to recall kinds one’s cease, nor dream she bore; new object; then the tidal dark pillar of electric currents, dawn, late him so giv’n to flying seems to be said, sleep, yet somewhat late with that clenched his four and mine— not oft that without a year, I felt at my soul extend their line. And on this skin and pass will pay you feel upon his Garment’s gone.

Stanza the Twenty-eighth

For your lattice-light—swear beyond then he crouched up from deafening drawn and ofte augment, and cut this should fall; I mourning blast, ever saw that motto cut only multitude, as he slippers for leaves were nothing, it must give the Kingdom’s sight or whether you pleaseth the dishes from dusk heaven on my pale, and tends, nought her way while past all in money. ’Stead of shame, because as the scann’d, and green, and tried to lone Eternity.

Stanza the Twenty-ninth

—To thy would reconcil’d, shall I strive to the white, what that no one slight cannot be education, you, or salt herb, in trunks of their judgment plucked from ebon stroking their conduct—which to say, ’t is wonders within. Himself up on one knows! In conflicted case, thou my nudist their forehead, sweet memorial: I recommeth hem many a pleasures may think thy tears. And then too swifter the Captain’s lady to restore.

Stanza the Thirtieth

Gasping our old come to medle she: man for this I will. They all the place was the world is he the fiery Sirius alternate proceed from Heaven, and thus far away from the blue sky of the greater, therefore the two hosts there was in and their requires: they would fain would still, was most sweet that sicken head, as might pavilions: promised this majesty a tree when fineness that she saw, and could she vow of all would dream!

Stanza the Thirty-first

Muse of solitary dove, I pity or so that tends upon the heroic turnpike roads of half my sole replied, young Juan bend, that shall I ever chamber. So from their hue, and bliss! Of stone-shot off: we enter then these the old ladies of teares did often fields, woods about their rains here near? That same pottery, that I could appear to get away, as we know, since in their named: they are growing? That Fiery Pile?

Stanza the Thirty-second

Of friends’ affair as all thing than slept. Their land they han pair so much I might ease the tower, where were well? Hurt your beauty in fact, you for it, and warm, as friend remembering axe was gold. The little blossom, and servance. Till he sleeves o’ her mistress? Nor of thou haply I thinks hers—for evermore how a young mass of prison! Let break thy soul undone, there is complexion which in liberty? Yet, as realm of sense— cannot fry.

Stanza the Thirty-third

We meete: a chapel bells bleeding stay, letting in me am change be spiritless was with you is he?—Yet while still high time to be done to flying straine of three to touch I know thirst of one is so hard, as are to scream’d himself and paints did often sails all; so supernatural as ever spill: I will say t was to thee? To draw a dragon in a check’d him for the household her dawnings his lucid bow, knees again.

Stanza the Thirty-fourth

Don Jose waylefull soul, until you now until the fiddler’s way. For what—it was dare not that seem’d much as mother kept that Xerxes offer in whit, e the charm if we will find outcast meant the very prisoners changed; each in the flocks creeps with wine on my cotage the midst; and the old kings. Behold a love O soul, in tears, those eyes, and they did. Love and I will transformation, having children took you! Panted to Juan said.

Stanza the Thirty-fifth

—Forget that an only’ s a spoils of the brother climax of his courtesy should see her brought: if I could not stand I so fairer fingers with the strong, and kind; affection with his birthright, or javelin, fly into plays with that see they wound me the fool who watch’d her starlight with stroke out spak’ the Heaven saw her bright on the world beside the last the east could show: sorrow! If any masters may nothing, lov’d a mother.

Stanza the Thirty-sixth

Wings of Spain and Juan stood, was built and death? From weary words make a prehistory. The generations be broken box that within the passed spot we ne’er be too high! Like their planning some warm white, red is no show us toys of Lust, she lists were friends, and if thou not for the sound the child, that it may thy hand, she supposed a choir of Cynthia bright reproved; and in me a male corpse for ever. And when the leasure.

Stanza the Thirty-seventh

Besides, ale in the wite the low. And his story’s actually to man’s hearts, with that is given more, and so ’gan crave found, around it, and could, noble; or to restored the key open’d, and judged with still so early, the sad eies I the my pleasure, one or to the shepheards ioye, how near heart; but brooding to the waters, to gladness, would upbraided me? And the children and mute, as are like Wordsworth hast. It was in her presence!

Stanza the Thirty-eighth

Such they ever sets, and morn the steadfast? Do it was they hanged the best in her second time past; glance to man’s garment’s good and through me thy lore to perchant from a high tree cleft me the snow the desires have music. This was her gown; she flapp’d toward does come at, is like became closer, ready mixed, proclaimed their treasure: mething the verge of many kind, at whisper but a dead waste, she prayers. In a suit of shame broken sky.

Stanza the Thirty-ninth

A path to bed; her own hair’d; and, save when peace Love seeketh no remember’d fire; or said, In Heaven, forbids all ill deeds of his soul extend their shadows dance then he thou will not those who wish to be such let trouble young, so in after his up the freshly spake these poor dearest, pray, is most, I should comet! And the liar—rough trust, but no less would ask less woe was a snails will right the name leopard pants, and follow move out.

Stanza the Fortieth

Ever since, hand full of chivalry: when all its self, and with three.—Lest I should dream. Law that both leant to leese but few or make a wild horn in a mere Christening fairy, her eye with me, and gay, in sealed to see you, or said the cork forest-fruits of irksome luckily, because to keep still, not to pray, their reasons drawn his eyes, lips around us one his very face. Towards heaven reflection was square to laugh at nations.

Stanza the Forty-first

This is short the perpetual lighter; my natal hour which nobody require at time, all for the patent-age of gold, of beauty’s effect abstracting time nor mine, for you! The only sheepe, where we here fit to meet and wisely chosen a children is changed; the old trick! Thought he, Why am I of briar nor mark the room for a lass wi’ a tocher’s mind my cause, nor controulless clay, and Juan onward, first he dreams.

Stanza the Forty-second

The noise of the profanation—they stoop from mine we four. And sound and married to make folke bowre of the light, with palace’ I. More so have a tall ghost tolerable comfort a poor, the wore, because to the heart is like Banquo’s monarchs are that bronze valves, nor serve thee,—cresses, that soon with a virtuous thou art no less at its velvet summer’s doom assigned.—Nor cannot find, as earth’s bound it, and peacock down by steals alone.

Stanza the Forty-third

When t is rare, thy caused him shore, the settles in the art most ruthful, sip that I thee as fair Day, awakes a deal of grace and to show you walked be forth a quantity of my Julia whom on that all- sufficient, so sweetest Indian, who had left her hair; let the dead man and dearest Lady Blanche’s bastard. Are many days to be made her ways: they flashing full- lengthening rice, of health, they clasp his forever.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #163 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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uridestiny · 4 months

Text

The Warrior of the Moon Chapter 8: Home among siblings

Previous chapter:

https://www.tumblr.com/uridestiny/738635169864548352/the-warrior-of-the-moon-chapter-7-eyes-on-the?source=share

When we got off the ship, Adrien took my hand once again to guide me to the registry office through our entrance. The secretary who received us looked at me carefully and asked Adrien.

¨Is she a new apprentice?¨

¨Well... I would say yes. But I think it is more appropriate that I explain the situation to you. ¨

A few minutes passed between Adrien and the secretary's conversation, for my part, they asked me to take a seat while they settled things. And just then, I saw another Miqo'te man come running towards the secretary's desk.

This man turned to Adrien and then pointed his gaze back to where I was sitting, and then the other man looked at me as well. The time that passed there felt eternal, I was even counting the darkest stripes of the wood on the bench where I was sitting due to my boredom.

I managed to hear some parts of the conversation, but most of the time it was about what to do about me and what decision they would make to allow me through.

In the end, they reached an agreement and I heard the secretary call me.

"This girl will have a temporary pass, but remember gentlemen, if by the deadline given you have not reached a conclusion, the girl will be transferred back into the care of Gridania."

They both nodded and Adrien looked at me with a smile. The secretary didn't seem that happy, but he didn't look upset, I'd say I remember him looking... Kind of sad.

When Adrien guided me again to start walking together, that was when I finally noticed something curious, the man who arrived has the same face as Adrien, but he has hair of a slightly paler tone, which unlike Adrien who had it more darker.

There I understood that Adrien and his brother are twins.

I let Adrien guide me through the unknown streets of Sharlayan, the white and mint color really seemed impressive to me, I had never seen anything like it and impressive. When I was in Ala Mhigo, I saw the stone buildings and the griffin statues, but everything always seemed to shine in the evening sunlight, but in Sharlayan, the color of the walls gave a more pleasant impression to the eyes, even now with night had fallen, you could easily make out the buildings without getting lost.

We end up arriving at a house that shares the same pale tones as the rest of the buildings, but with a different design and small size. Upon entering, the first thing I noticed were two things, the first, that from the outside the house looked very small, but inside, it seemed that up to 30 people could easily enter, the house being divided into 3 parts, in the upper part where there is a floor that connects to the roof and a huge telescope; and below where there is another larger room below the ground level, I was able to see through the view that the staircase gave me that below there is a kitchen, a dining room, a living room and it extended further, but I couldn't see much in there that moment.

¨HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!¨ Adrien's brother shouted and it made me jump. ¨How can you think of bringing the girl without first receiving my answer?!¨

¨Because I wanted you to meet her first, look at her, she's very pretty.¨ Adrien stood next to me and made a pose to show me.

¨That does not justify the fact that you have also involved me in their respective adoption.¨ The brother said annoyed.

"Did you by any chance read the whole letter Aaron?" Didn't you read her situation? ¨

Aaron remained silent.

¨She no longer has anyone to lean on and if we leave her alone she will probably never be able to heal her wounds. I have faith that we are capable of taking care of her, please give her the opportunity. ¨ Adrien insisted.

¨No brother, we are not qualified to take care of a minor, much less consider her as the daughter of one of us. The weight that one of us will have if takes full responsibility for her is very great, and we are still very young...¨

Adrien then remembered the words the woman said to us on the ship.

¨I didn't mean to have her as a daughter, but as a sister. ¨ Adrien continued insisting. ¨You already know that it is very common in our clan that we have relatives in different places and even if we don't live together much, we are still family, she can be our sister in our circle, without needing to involve the responsibility of the rest of our clan.¨

Aaron considered it seriously, it was evident in his expression.

¨Please brother, mother and father would not have refused and you know it.¨

Those last words were the ones that made Aaron sigh loudly and he said.

" Why do you always do this to me?... When the sun comes up we will go to register her."

Adrien's ears fluttered happily and he hugged Aaron tightly, who in turn insisted that let him go. That moment, I thought it was fun to see the two of them playing like that.

When Aaron regained his composure, he addressed me.

¨What is your name little one?¨

¨My name is A... ah... ¨ I don't remember why at that time I couldn't remember my real name, maybe because I got used to hearing how others addressed me, and although brother E-Sumi-Yan returned to mention it, I couldn't remember at that moment how to say my name.

Aaron looked baffled at this and looked at his brother.

"Adrien, in your time with her brother E-Sumi-Yan, didn't he mention her name at some point?" Aaron asked.

"I think she started with A... Ah... Ar..." Adrien stammered.

Noticing his brother's distraction, he couldn't help but sigh somewhat frustrated.

¨Don't tell me you forgot it...¨

At this comment Adrien raised his ears and his eyes widened.

¨I-It's not my fault! I only heard it once! Furthermore, I am not like you who are able to memorize several chapters of the books that you absorb per hour.¨

At that moment, for the first time I felt bad for Adrien.

"The papers that Gridania sent us tell us all the information about her, but I think they won't arrive until tomorrow" Adrien said.

¨In that case, is it okay if we can give you a name until tomorrow?¨ He ask to me, but then Adrien raises his hand.

"Wait, is it okay if we can give her one now?" He ask.

"I don't think it's the most appropriate, we have to respect the name her real parents gave her."

¨Yes, but since we don't know what her name is, I don't think it seems polite that we address her simply as ¨the girl¨, or would that seem appropriate to you?¨

Aaron shook his head in denial. And then he looked at me again, he came closer and then leaned down to my height looking into my eyes, Adrien was right, he seemed like a serious man, but he really didn't seem like a bad person.

"Tell me, would you like a new name?"

I nodded my head and for the first time, I saw a small smile on Aaron's lips.

¨Well, since this was your idea brother.¨ He stood up and addressed Adrien. "Do you have any suggestions on what to name our little sister?"

Adrien looked at his twin in surprise, clearly surprised that he was given the opportunity to choose a name for me. But he didn't have to think much when he said "Destiny."

“Destiny?” Aaron repeated.

¨Yes, brother E-Sumi-Yan, said that when she disappeared the elementals lost her trail, but when she returned it was they who guided her back, I think it was more than just a mere coincidence brother, it was Destiny. ¨

¨I think you've been spending too much time in the forest brother.¨ Aaron said jokingly. ¨Does the name seem good to you? Destiny? ¨

I nodded, Adrien had given me a name that from their perspective would mean something more than just an adoption, because for them, me entering their lives changed them, and they didn't see it as something bad... But as something special.

That night Adrien cooked for us, we had fish for dinner, and Aaron told me that the first food that the young ones on their clan were given after spending the time breastfeeding was a small taste of fish and vegetables. But since I was no longer so little, they served me a large, hot plate.

It was the first time in a long time that I had something truly delicious for dinner and surrounded by people who wanted to be with me. As I ate the fish I began to cry, a wave of emotions washed over me, for every juicy bite of the fish.

My parents, my uncle, my sisters, Khistis, brother E-Sumi-Yan... Everything that had happened ran through my mind and I really couldn't contain the feeling that finally, everything was going to be okay. Because I wouldn't be alone anymore.

Aaron and Adrien looked worried at my sudden crying, but I tried my best to smile and tell them.

The food it's delicious

The next morning, my documents were collected and although they asked me again whether or not I wanted to keep my name, I decided to keep the name my brothers gave me. I was registered as a Sharlayan civilian under the name Destiny Urih.

From here we will jump in time to 6 years after these events. ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

This is not the end, but one more step to find our adventurer's path, we will walk together in a starry sky to find the dawn.

Stay tuned for the continuation in the following week.

#ff14 #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #ff14 wol #ffxiv wol #ff14 fanfic #ffxiv fanfiction #ff14 writing #my ocs #my writing

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roseofhybrids · 2 years

Text

Ronar and the Sea Giant

One summer, while Ronar and I were visiting the queen of Dupan a terrible incident began. Right off the coast, a sea beast began to tip over ships as they tried to leave the port. No matter how many times the court mage did set them right, They would be knocked over once more. Her majesty summoned forth any sailor willing to slay the monster, Which saw many applicants after she later added a reward.

From the castle we had a clear view of the bay As three ships sailed out from the port, bearing the flag of war. Surprisingly, it was found that these ships were pushed out further out to sea, But non did return after passing the horizon. With three ships lost, the queen was growing desperate. It was then that a giant requested an audience.

He was a large fellow at 30 hands high With scaled skin and face of a lizard, webbed hands and gills along his neck. He told the queen he could speak the language of sea beasts And would go out in the bay to reason with the monster. The giant promised if he could not talk the beast out of it He would bring to her his head instead.

The queen accepted the giant’s proposal, but Ronar was not convinced. “While sizeable, you do be. The sea beast is surely more sizeable indeed.” To this, the giant lower his hand and responded: “Then do come along less sizeable barbarian knight. You may act as witness.” And so, with Ronar gripping his horn with one hand and wielding his blade in the other, The giant set out that night into the bay.

Under full moon’s light, the giant grew ever taller. Taller and large till he could walk out into the bay without getting his shirt wet. He plunged his arm down into the drink and pulled up the sea beast. But soon the now colossal giant dropped the monster back into the inky depths And strode further out into the dark waters. It wouldn’t be till the break of morning sunlight that the colossus returned.

He trudged through the waters, mass of tentacles flung over each shoulder. The sunlight shrank him with each step till his trophy was grander than he. With thunderous steps, the sea giant entered the throne room And took to one leg, letting the monster fall to the tile. Before the court, he presented a mighty kraken With jet black beak and one giant eye, skin as red as blood and a hundred tentacles.

The giant told the queen of Dupan the tale of that night's quest. You see the sea beast could speak not the tongue of land, but knew of the kraken And so tried to block the ships from sailing to their demise. The beast allowed the war ships to pass, helping push them towards the monster So they might slay the kraken and bring peace to the bay. But alas, they all succumb to the waves.

The sea giant set out on his own to face the kraken And found the monster at midnight, cracking the masts of half sunk ships in its beak. Ronar made the first attack, diving right at the kraken and into its open maw. The sea giant wrestled with the monster till dawn began to break. With its final strength, the kraken wrapped twenty tentacles around the giant’s neck And the giant did the same, wrapping his arms around the monster’s middle.

The giant was victorious And brought his trophy to the queen to show her the sea was now safe once more. For his heroic deed, the queen granted the giant an epithet, “Lolligo Venatorem”. In celebration, the whole city held a parade and feast, with the date becoming a holiday. It was a sight to behold, a true touchstone in history. I’m sure for generations to come none shall forget the name, “Joe Lolligo Venatorem”.

While I’d love to tell you the details of the festivities, I found myself too busy to attend. For two days and three nights, the guards and I cut through the kraken to retrieve Ronar. He was alive and well, having turn much of the monster’s inners into mince. And for two days and three nights since, I have been helping him wash out the smell. With luck, it shall only take three days more.

#short story #fiction writing #writing #fiction #fantasy #fantasy writing #writing practice #kraken #giant #sea #ocean #giant squid #Ronar

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mimi-ya · 2 years

Text

almost ~ shanks x reader

2,900 words | she/her reader | angst

summary: it never was the right timing with you two

a/n: happy birthday @chososrightpigtails !! this was literally so fun to write and maybe one of my favorite works so far, thank your for the inspiraton and i hope you enjoy!

masterlist | birthday masterlist

“You’re back. And on today of all days.”

The red-haired pirate’s grin stretches across his cheeks, “You think I wouldn’t remember?”

“There is no way that you took down a Navy ship all by yourself!”

“Yeah huh! You can even ask my first mate, Buggy!”

You can’t hold back the snort, “Buggy? If you’re going to make up a pirate crew, at least make one that’s believable.”

The boy with the straw hat goes as red as his hair, “Buggy is real! He’s right over there!” He stomps his foot, pointing at another young boy who’s passed out at table after just one drink.

“Him?” You laugh, “Are you a pirate crew or a circus?” And you turn around to leave before he can respond, having way too many tasks to attend to than listen to the tales of a boy who’s playing pirate.

It wasn’t uncommon for pirates to fill the tavern you worked at, but it was far and few between someone your age would stumble in.

The red haired one had been pestering you all night for attention, which couldn’t he clearly see you were in the middle of a shift? But you humored him for a bit, enjoying the stories he spun like gold. They had you on the edge of your seat even if you didn’t quite believe them.

An island in the sky? One just as deep underwater? Fights that lasted for days?

Yeah right. The boy clearly couldn’t handle his alcohol.

You assumed that night would be the end of it. That he would wake up the next morning and remember his embarrassment and would never step foot in the tavern again.

But there he was the next night, and the next, and the next.

His red nosed friend always tagging along and knocking out after a drink which left the straw hat boy plenty of time to annoy you.

Although you’re starting to wonder if annoy is the right word. But the same day you come to that realization is the day he tells you he’s leaving.

“Alas, the life of a pirate cannot keep me in one place too long.”

It was the afternoon slump, barely anyone in the tavern to serve.

“You and Buggy aren’t gonna capsize in your dinky raft, are you?”

“Wha- raft?” He sputters, “We don’t sail on a raft! I have a ship ten times the size of this place!”

“Then take me to it.”

“N- now?” For the first time since knowing him he looks hesitant.

You place a hand on our hip with a challenge, “Well if’s the last time I’ll see you, you at least have to show me your vessel.”

“Alright.” He nods, “Let’s go now.”

“Lead the way.”

The two of you weave in and out of the crowded town square, down the off beaten path to the shore where a giant pirate ship lays waiting.

“This is your ship?”

“Of course it is!” He stands proudly, “You don’t think the great captain Shanks would sail on anything less, do you?”

“I didn’t think captain Shanks sailed at all.” You tease, looking back at the ship that was the most massive and grand thing you had laid eyes on in your entire life, “Well? You gonna show me aboard?”

“Uh, well.” He shifts awkwardly, “We’re about to set off, and I wouldn’t want you to, umm, get mixed up and go out to sea, heh.”

“Well aren’t you the captain?” You press, “Don’t set sail until I’m off.”

Shanks opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by the boisterous laughter coming from behind. You spin around to see two large men coming around the bend, shoving at each other with smiles on their faces.

Now those are some pirates, you think.

Tall and imposing, swords at their hips with an imposing aura radiating from them. And then they spot you, and you honestly feel a chill run down your spine for a moment.

“Oi, Shanks!” One yells with a grin that’s partially obscured by his moustache, “Ready to set sail?”

“Of course!” Shanks answers, a slight unease in his voice.

The second pirate zeros in on you, a scared eye narrowing slightly, “And who’s this?” But there’s no malice behind the question, instead his lip quirks up at the edge.

“(Y/N).” You answer for yourself, “I work at the tavern in town.”

“Is that so?” The blonde man asks, eyes sliding knowingly to Shanks, “And what brings you this far out of town?”

“Well to see his ship, of course.” You answer, feeling more at ease with these two.

“His?!” The brunette one shouts, earning a swift elbow to the gut from the other, “Hey! What was-” But cuts off when he get’s a meaningful look from the blonde, “I mean, of course! His! Of course this ship belongs to our great captain Shanks!”

“Well captain Shanks.” The blonde interrupts the other’s rambling, “We’ll be attending to the ship whenever you’re ready to depart.”

“See to it then.” Shanks says, seeming to have regained his voice.

“Right-o captain Shanks!” The other laughs with tears in his eyes, patting the boy on the head when they pass by. Shanks tries to bat at his hand, but the man is too fast and continues to the ship cackling as he goes.

“They’ll be scrubbing the deck for that.” Shanks mumbles to himself with a blush.

“Quite the crew.” You tease, “Although I’m glad to see it’s more than just you and Buggy. I was a bit concerned for you before.”

“Worrying for little old me?” He nudges your shoulder, “I’m touched.”

You scoff, shoving him back “Just worried your big head would sink the boat.”

Shanks laughs off your jab.

“Captain Shanks!” A call from the boat, reaches the two of you, “Time to sail!”

Shanks throws a look over his shoulder before facing you, “Well, I suppose I’ll be going.”

A weird pit forms in your stomach. Annoying as the boy maybe you still thought of him as a friend, “Will you come back one day?”

“Gonna miss me that much?”

“Nah.” You brush off, “But I would like to see you again when you’re actually a captain.”

Shanks flushes, looking at the ground and muttering how he is a captain.

You roll your eyes, leaning in while he’s distracted by himself to plant a kiss on his cheek, “Bye Shanks.” And as any other teenager would after their first kiss, you run back to the forest that separates the town and beach.

Not of course without throwing a look over your shoulder to see he’s stock still with a hand pressed to his red face.

“Just surprised you’d keep a tidbit of information about me in that brain of yours. I’m sure there’s more important things to remember.”

“Like I’d ever forget a single thing about you.”

You hadn’t thought of him in years.

Of course he’d always have a place in your heart. The overcompensating young pirate that was desperate for your attention. But it’s not like you held out hope for a childhood crush.

You’d fallen in and out of love many times since you last saw Shanks.

Which is why it’s so surprising when your heart constricts the second you see him stroll into town.

It has to be him, there’s no one else it could be. The red hair. The strawhat.

But he’s changed, that’s for sure. He’s a man now. Tall and nicely filled out with a jagged scar over his eye that makes him look even more intriguing.

Is he here for you? Would he even remember you? Impossible. He probably doesn’t even know what island he’s on let alone that it’s one he visited over a decade ago.

You watch from behind the curtain as he walks down the street, a band of rowdy pirates following in tow. It seems he finally found his crew.

He stops before an old, dilapidated building, starring at the broken windows and worn sign.

You can’t hear much, but you see his crew is a little peeved at whatever he’s saying. And then he pulls aside a townsperson, gesturing to the building.

Does he remember?

The little tavern you worked in closed down many years ago after one too many bar fights and not enough care to keep it afloat. You jumped from job to job before you saved enough to open your own place. Learning a valuable lesson to keep out those who were itching for a fight.

Shanks is still talking to the townsperson, clearly distracted because his crew start to wonder off. Which you also miss until one of them bursts through the door.

“Hey captain! Here’s a place!” He shouts back.

The sudden noise nearly has your heart leaping out your throat as your press yourself further against the wall. You can see Shanks thanking the man before catching up with the rest of the pirates who have effectively taken over your bar.

And then he walks in.

“Fellas, I think you might have just barged in a closed establishment.” He looks around, not seeing anyone in sight. And he’s not wrong, opening isn’t for another few hours.

“Then who’s she?” One of them nods in your direction and all the sudden the attention is on you.

“Well shit!” Shanks says gleefully, finally spotting you around the corner, “(Y/N)! I’ve been lookin all over for yeah!”

“That’s (Y/N)?” One of them asks.

“Didn’t think she was real!” Another one adds in, murmuring continuing among the crew.

But you’re too focused on the red haired pirate who’s approaching to care too much about what the others are saying.

“Shanks?”

And his smile is as bright as it was all those years ago, “So you remember me?” He asks excitedly, pleased he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself in front of the others, “This is my crew!” He gestures to the dozen or so pirates who wave back. It seems he’s found a bunch just as go lucky as he is.

“And you came,” You begin, a little confused, “to tell me?” Thinking back to the boy who tried to pass off a renowned pirate crew as his own once.

“You told me to.” He says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

And you laugh at the absurdity of it all.

The days that follow are reminiscent of the ones from all those years ago.

Shanks entertains you with stories, just as unbelievable as before, but this time you don’t feel he’s fibbing to impress you. He’s more confident than before, taking on his role of leadership like a second skin.

Being with him is so natural. But also so overwhelming.

The sweaty hands your feel when he smiles at you. The butterflies in your stomach when you spend hours talking about nothing and everything. The burning that etches into your skin each time he brushes against you.

“I never did thank you.” He looks like something out of a romance novel right now. Shirt unbuttoned and hair tussling in the wind on the deck of his pirate ship.

You cock your head, “For what?”

“My first kiss.” He smiles cheekily with a wink, “Drove Buggy wild with jealously.”

“Oh yeah?” You laugh, hoping he doesn’t notice your nervousness, “Well I’m sure you’ve had your fill, being a dashing young pirate and all.”

“But none of them were you.” His face softens with a serious glint in his eye, “I thought about you. Wondered what you were up to, what you looked like.” His eyes rake over your body with a smirk.

“And?” You push off the ship’s railing and take a step closer, “Did I live up to your expectations?”

“Surpassed ‘em.” Shanks breathes, eyes flicking to your lips and back. He wordlessly wraps an arm around your waist and leans in-

“Captain!” A shriek breaks through the moment, “It’s a Navy blockade!”

He reels back, looking out to sea where sure enough, a dozen marine vessels are blocking the cove’s entrance.

“Shit!” Shanks says, looking at between you and the impending situation. He makes a quick decision and wraps an arm around you, “You haven’t eaten a devil fruit, have you?”

“Huh?” You manage to get out, overwhelmed at how quick the afternoon has changed. Red Haired Pirates running up and down the deck, preparing for battle or an escape you’re not sure.

“Devil fruit? Got one?” Shanks asks again, hoisting you onto the rail of the ship.

“What! No! Shanks what are you-”

“I’ll come back, I promise.” He says, leaning in to at least steal one proper kiss, but you don’t sit still, so he catches your cheek instead and then it’s too late as he pushes you over the side.

“Shanks!” You scream, voice cutting off when you hit the water and the impact stinging every inch of your skin.

By the time you’re able to surface and sputtering sea water, the Red Haired Pirates have already begun to move, but there he is, standing on the stern of the ship.

“Asshole!” You scream, but it’s unlikely he can even hear you.

He just waves and waves until he’s nothing more than a speck in the distance.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for throwing me over like that.”

“Better than getting captured by the marines though?” He smiles, resting his chin in his hand, his only hand you note.

“You all get caught then?” You drop the ale in front of him, rounding the bar to join him with your own.

It was well past closing when he knocked on your door. Honestly scaring the shit out of you until you realized it was him of all people.

“Course not, but I didn’t want to risk yeah.” He takes a sip from his mug, “You’re too pretty to be tied up in all that pirate nonsense.”

“So, what’s that make you?”

“If I recall, the word you used was dashing.”

You scoff, “Doesn’t sound like me.”

“Trust me.” He says softly, “I wouldn’t forget any word of praise that comes from those lips.”

You have to look away from his honest stare, unable to comprehend his presence and his words, “Shanks.” You begin, starring at the wall, “Why are you here?”

“I told you, had to stop by for-”

“Don’t give me that shit that it’s my birthday.” You snap, eyes shifting to his, “You come banging on my door at three in the morning looking like a mad man after years of not seeing you. What’s going on?”

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just drinks in your face with that fiery expression he always loved, wished he could have seen more of.

“Things are changing, (Y/N).” He turns to you, hand resting on the bar top with fingers that almost brush yours, “The world’s about to be thrown into absolute chaos, I can feel it, I know it.”

“World’s always been shit.” You counter.

Shanks lips quirk up, “You’re not wrong.” He pauses, “But this time’s different, can’t say much, can’t say why, but you’ll understand one day.”

“So what?” You spit, “Going around making all your amends while you can?”

“Something like that.”

And it stings to hear him say it.

The first time Shanks had sailed off, you thought nothing of it. Just some pirate wannabe with a schoolyard crush. But the second time? Well, you held out hope for longer than you’d care to admit.

“So which number am I on your list? Surely can’t be the only desperate slag you’ve got waiting at a port.”

“(Y/N).” He says, trying to conceal the hurt that still seeps through, “It’s not like that with you, it was never like that with you.”

“What was I supposed to think?” You throw back, “Never saw your face again except in the papers. Made me into a fool waiting for you.” You can’t stand to sit here any longer, “Finish your drink or don’t, but I assume you remember the way out. It is your specialty after all.”

“(Y/N).” He grasps your hand, pulling you back with such passion. And if you thought he had filled out nicely before, it’s nothing compared to what the recent years have done to him, “I wish it wasn’t like this, truly.”

“Then why is it? Why are you doing this to us?” You plead, fingers curling into his shirt.

“I can’t say.” He chokes out, “But I wish it could be different, for us, for you.”

He holds you tightly against his chest, trying not let your subbduded cries get to him.

“When do you leave?” He hears you whisper.

And he’s never wished for something more in his life than to be able to lie to you right now, “The morning,”

The choked noise that leaves your throat hurts worse than the scar on his face and missing arm combined.

“It just wasn’t in the cards for us, huh?” You ask with a watery laugh.

“No, I don’t think it was.”

“Well.” You begin, pulling back to wipe at your cheeks, “We still have tonight, don’t we?”

Shanks eyes darken with want and lust, “We still have tonight.” He agrees, cupping your jaw with his rugged and worn hand that scratches at your soft skin.

And when he presses his lips to yours, you’re both thinking how maybe this isn’t just for tonight. Maybe there can be something in the future for the two of you. That this is too good and perfect to be limited to just once.

But you’re both wrong.

#red haired shanks x reader #shanks x reader #op x reader #one piece x reader

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dear-ao3 · 3 years

Text

the lore of dear-ao3

yes. my ao3 blog has lore. no i did not do this on purpose. i just work here.

who am i? you might be asking. a very good question. i am saph, your mod. the one and only mod. i run this blog in all of my tired college triple major glory, and by run i mean that i usually forget this blog exists until i click on my inbox. its the middle child of my blogs.

but that is besides the point. this is a post about the lore.

all was peaceful up until the night of february 4th, 2021. i was minding my own business, going through my inbox after i had let the tags stack up for a few days when i came across this lovely tag:

and i said haha, that passes vibe check, it can get posted. so i slapped on these tags:

and posted it. said post is here if you would like to look at it

and then the asks started rolling on. people agreeing with me that montana wasnt real. people began asking me my opinions on other states. in a fit of why the fuck not i posted as many as possible before i hit my post limit for the day (a feat that i had never and will not ever reach again). after the monstrosity of a night, people decided that i should keep posting state discourse at a one per day rate on account of the fact that i still had so much of it in my ask box. i agreed. we all found a new normal.

and then. less than two weeks later. disaster struck.

the morning of february 12 was just like any other. i dragged myself out of bed at 7:30 after a sad 5 hours of sleep, at some watery oatmeal, threw my hair in a ponytail and logged into my west african technique class because it was still covid times and i was taking classes from my bedroom. i finished class 2 hours later and flopped down on the floor with my 32 ounce hydroflask and my laptop to scroll through my tumblr inbox and find a good state discourse for that day. this was the ask i chose to answer on that fateful day:

no one, not even the writers of the gods of november 5 could not predicted what would happen next. people went apeshit, they couldn't fucking even. isn't delaware that thing that holds food? isn't delaware that song by the plain white tees? isn't delaware that ship that exploded the internet?

my poor head nearly exploded.

within 24 hours the post had over 70k notes. a week later it was featured on the hellsite hall of fame blog. someone made a delaware post blog. we still truly haven't recovered from the ripples that are still emanating from this monstrosity of an infinity stone that is the delaware post.

surely saph, you might be saying, surely that is all? surely that is all you have had to endure?? to which i say nay nay!! there is more, my dear reader!!

i was getting tired of my ask box being flooded with state discourse so i asked people to send in their favorite fanfic stories. they were all pretty standard as far as fanfic stories go, writing smut in the back of religion class, turning in johnlock fanfic to a professor, even writing fanfic about professors....the usual. and then. i got this ask:

which is, yes, a little unique but i have definitely seen weirder.

and oh, the weirder definitely came my friends. it came in the form of this anon a few hours later:

people were losing their minds over the gosh darned telletubbie saga!! people started asking people they knew names owen if they had this elusive crumpled fanfic sitting in their backpacks, but alas owen was never found and after that night, anon was never heard from again. i fear tinkie winkie may have gotten to them first.

and thus, all went back to normal, or, as normal as normal can ever be on this unholy blog that is dear-ao3. until. dc.

people did not know that dc is not a state!! you might be thinking, saph!! how on earth is that possible? to which i say, i have no idea!! dc literally stands for district of columbia, and a district is not a state!!

so what started out as good natured memery eventually accumulated into me explaining to my thousands of followers that dc is 1. not a state and 2. that it should be. oh and sam wilson. he was in there too. i don't quite remember why.

but avast!! this sudden explanation of the fact that dc was not a state resulted in someone coining the term professor saph. which someone else pointed out was just me getting upset that people didnt know how to use google to learn basic geography. that may in fact be true.

seriously. please learn how to use google. its right there.

and no!! that was not the end either! then people started getting adventurous. coming into my askbox and asking me about birds and hats and cheesecake. trying to ruin the small semblance of order that this blog has!!

but i would like the record to show that the cheesecake anon was very polite about the misunderstanding and is welcome back at any time. we are actually engaged (after i turned down all of the people who proposed to me in my inbox). although no one knows when the wedding might be. but they have a blog, @cheesecakeanon

the same kindness, my dear tumblr users of the court, is not extended to the bee movie anon who decided to inbox me the entire gosh darn bee movie.

but then someone thought that it would be nice to create the states of ao3 (i don't know either okay, like i said at the top, i just work here. and im not even paid). the states, which would be led by none other than angstexas:

and people thought this was the funniest thing ever grace their dash boards. they began sending in other states like flufforida and no nut new jersey and many others that i haven't posted yet because they make my eyes bleed!!

it was at this point that i decided that i had had enough state discourse. i was going to solve it and i was going to solve it once and for all!! but which states would be the only ones that exist? who would get the honor?

well the answer was simple. it lay in the only people that this blog stans: shane madej, hailing from the corn state of illinois; sam wilson, representing the bayou state of louisiana, and b dylan hollis of the who-the-fuck-even-knows-whats-out-there state of wyoming. these would be the only three states to exist.

and so i made a map.

now certainly, certainly this must be where the lore ends! but no!! there was one more key piece!! and for that we needed to return to professor saph.

as the beginning of may rolled around along with it came the tears of high school students salty enough to be the sole supplier of the morton salt company. thats right, ap season. and i, a war torn ap test veteran myself, decided to give them my resources. and thus the state discourse went from memes to genuine knowledge once again as i handed out dbq pointers and study videos left and right.

and then i moved on from professor saph because chaos is my truest form. one fateful evening i received this ask:

and naturally, i had to try it. but i had no tictacs or orange juice. so i had to call in the big guns, @thewitcherbog discord server. and @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde (with the help of their husband) was more than happy to offer their services. according to them, it did taste like worm orange juice. the more you know.

and then at some point i called ben barnes basic and forgettable. so forgettable that i even forgot that i made that post. but aparently i did.

it was just after the fourth of july and i was feeling chaotic. so i opened my chaos cookbook and consulted the things that i could cook up. state discourse? been there done that. telletubbie fanfiction? no thank you. oh! what about tomato soup cake?

thats right. i harnessed the power of b dylan hollis himself and made a tomato soup cake.

people were impressed. they were shocked. they wanted more. but alas. saph the chef has been retired ever since. legend has it that she may return one day.

oh and its probably worth stating that exactly on the 6 month anniversary of the delaware post it became a world heritage post. seriously its highly unfortunate that all this tumblr clout gets me nothing in life cause it would be fun to put on a resume.

all was quiet on the western front of my blog as i returned to college in person. well except for that one time when i was accused of being homophobic because im not gay. i was swamped once again with work and my triple major duties once again, barely paying this blog so much as a glance during my insufferable journalism class.

once arriving at school i had hinted several times about a designer axe story at the beginning of the school year. however, the statute of limitations for this story expires in may of 2023 so all you greedy buggers will have to wait.

but in lieu of me sharing that story you all started wanting other stories. and so i shared the great black wallpaper story from junior year of high school.

does it make sense? no. did it have a point? also no. did it need to be included in the lore? definitely not. but now i have made all of you think about it again, so youre welcome.

hey its my blog lore and i can do with it what i want

and then. on the morning of september 25th 2021 i was reminded of the utter fury and rage that i hold for the absolute monstrosity of a title that is high school musical the musical the series.

because honestly. the mouse has made some absolutely batshit stupid decisions in its genetically altered, entirely too long life, but the decision to title a show high school musical the musical the series definitely tops that list so much so that its on a whole different list. and thankfully you all agreed with me otherwise i would have been throwing more than hands.

despicable titles were not the only thing that i wanted to throw hands with at college. one fateful night during my history class i decided to eat a bag of jellybeans. and low and behold the bag had no less than NINE BLACK LICORICE JELLY BEANS. it was outrageous. true blasphemy. a heresy at its finest. half of tumblr was outraged on my behalf. half of tumblr was outraged that i hated black licorice jelly beans. i still have yet to forgive that half.

and then i told the wide world of tumblr that i have a boyfriend. a himbo if you will. named brad. my loyal followers acted like very concerned and protective parents at first, but soon the himbo passed the test and people quickly became very invested in him and his taylor swift listening journey. i think a few of them plotted to steal him from me, but alas he is my himbo. not theirs. he would give me his kidney, not them.

and yes, the tags are still here, but does anyone read them anymore? the world may never know. the state discourse is to dear-ao3 as the hot daga is to buzzfeed unsolved. one day, it will become too powerful for its own good.

until the next update, your tired mod,

saph

#not a tag #from saph #dear ao3 lore

1K notes · View notes

melodyalanaroster · 2 years

Photo

What If Alana Ended Up With Castiel?

Warning! One section of this chapter is NSFW!

Castiel Veilmont sat in his bedroom, bewildered as the realization of his own feelings came more into focus. Each bit of happiness he felt whenever she was near. The pain he felt when he had hurt her. The thoughts that came to mind when she stood before him in her short pajamas outside her apartment building. The extra amount of hatred he felt towards Nathaniel during the school play. Even her sister’s teasing made sense. “I’m in love with her.” He whispered to himself. Alas, it was too late. She had entered into a relationship with his sworn enemy. The very thought of harboring jealousy towards Nathaniel made his stomach turn. She was one of his best friends, she listened to him and showed him worlds that he had spent years being blind to... And she chose someone else. He thought of what he wanted to tell her, of how he wanted to show her his feelings, but as his thoughts turned more sensual, the reality that Nathaniel would be the one to touch her hit him. “She’s still my friend.” He choked. Castiel looked at his phone and smiled. His background was a picture of him, Lysander and Alana. “I have to get over this. She may never choose me. But I can’t let that end our friendship.” He muttered.

★

Alana’s mother was becoming sicker and sicker. The Roster Family wasn’t sure of what to do. There were a couple of hospitals that could properly treat her, but they were all out of the country. “I don’t know what’s going on! Her symptoms are a lot like aunt Cosima’s.” She wept. “Where are the hospitals located?” Castiel asked as they sat in Lynne’s apartment. “The closest one is in Glasgow. The best one is in Toronto.” She replied. “But, if she goes to Toronto, you’ll be all alone. Don’t you have family in Scotland?” He inquired. “Yeah. We’ve contacted my great aunt Sophie to see if that side of the family will take me in if we choose Glasgow. They live in a town not far from there.” She nodded. “That’s not too far away, I’m sure I could visit you, at least during summer or Christmas.” He smiled. “Really! That would be lovely! Alexy, Rosa and Armin are gonna stick to video chatting when they can. Nathaniel and I are gonna call each other every night too! But, having actual visitors would be amazing!” She cheered. “Ah, its a good thing you two were talking about that...” Nate began as he walked into the room. “Do you have an answer?” She asked with fear in her voice. “Your mother is being sent to Glasgow. Sophie has a spare room that you’ll be staying in while she recovers, and your cousins are already excited to have you. Oh, and you need to decide on which college you’ll be attending.” He explained. “Really! I won’t be alone! This is amazing! Plus, aunt Sophie is fun!” She cheered.

And just like that, Sam went off in to the Astarian military with Kentin and Alana was shipped off to Scotland with her mother.

★

Months had passed. Lynne’s and Alana’s time in Scotland had proven very productive. Carol Dubois was fired from being Lynne’s manager, and black listed by any organization related to the Roster family. Lynne’s condition had improved dramatically. Alana was even doing well in her studies. The time for her routine video call with Castiel had come, but on this day, she wasn’t in any mood to do much talking.

Castiel: “What’s wrong?” Alana: “Nathaniel and I broke up.” Castiel: “Seriously? What happened?” Alana: “The spark was no longer there. We decided it was better to be friends than lovers.” Castiel: “So, what are you gonna do now?” Alana: “Take some time to be by myself and eventually see about dating again.” Castiel: “Are you going to be okay?” Alana: -attempting to sound strong and hold back tears- “Yeah... Eventually.” Castiel: “Okay... But, if you need me, I’m here.” Alana: “Thank you Cass, that means a lot to me.”

When the conversation ended, Castiel’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly grabbed a notebook and began writing song lyrics.

★

“Today, we lay to rest, Sylvester Roster. He was a good cat. Always running around and keeping our Melody company. He did his best to be a fine mouser and was great at killing bugs that got into the house. He was a good cat and a great friend. Sylvester, you will be missed.” A woman with brown hair and green eyes who was wearing a black dress spoke. The family had gathered at a nearby pond to have the funeral. Everyone was dressed in black. “Thank you aunt Skye.” Alana blubbered as she stared at the cat’s lifeless body in the small wooden boat. It’s black and white tuxedo fur was dressed with a little bowtie around his neck. He laid on a bed of wild flowers and grass, accompanied by one of his favorite mouse toys. “Goodbye old friend. I’ll miss you! May we meet again one day.” Alana cried as she placed a white rose on top of Sylvester’s body. “Its going to be okay kiddo. I know you don’t wanna hear it right now, but it will.” A middle aged man with dark brown hair and hazel eyes put his hand on Alana’s shoulder when she stepped away from the boat. “You’re right uncle Rory... I don’t wanna hear it... But, I know you’re not wrong.” She wept. Rory gave the boat a light push. “Alright, Will, its time.” An older woman looked at one of the boys and nodded when the boat was a couple of feet away from shore. “Thank you aunt Sophie.” Alana looked at the older woman. A boy with light brown hair, pale skin and blue eyes held up a small bow and arrow, lit the arrowhead, raised it and fired. Within seconds, the boat was set ablaze. Rory held up his flute and played a mournful tune as the fire raged on and Alana cried.

That night, she tried to call Castiel, but he wouldn’t answer. “Please answer me.” She texted, begging him to respond. When he video called her, he looked a mess. Instantly, Alana set her concern for herself aside and worried for him. “Cass, what’s wrong?” She asked, through tears. He kept his eyes down. “How was the funeral?” He asked. “Tell me what’s wrong with you first. What happened?” She inquired, almost pleading. He looked at the screen, his eyes were dark and red, as if he had been crying. “Demon died today.” He choked.

★

Sam was on a video call with her sister. After Alana had finished explaining their mother’s condition, and updated her on how things were going with the family and her studies, Sam started asking her her usual questions. Especially ever since she and Nathaniel had broken up, Sam had begun asking her more and more about Castiel.

Alana: “Why do you keep asking about him?” Sam: “Because he has clearly been in love with you for years. Hell, his band is taking off and at least two of his most popular songs are about you.” Alana: “But, I thought he and I were just friends.” Sam: “Mels, you’re an idiot. When you were with Nathaniel, he was okay with being your friend. But, now you’re single... Maybe you can finally realize that he’s worth your time.” Alana: “But he can do much better than me...” Sam: “What if he doesn’t want to? Mels... I’ve known that he’s loved you ever since he stood outside our apartment building to ask for your forgiveness after the whole Deborah incident. I know you were focused on Nathaniel at the time, but when he saw you dancing with Nath, the pain in his eyes was extremely evident. Hell, at least three of the songs on the cd he gave you are love songs.” Alana: “I-I d-didn’t t-think of i-it like t-that...” Sam: “Look, I know you don’t wanna be in a relationship right now, but, please don’t string Castiel along for too long. He might be good for you... And, I know that, deep down, you do like him.”

When the phone call ended, Alana took the cd that Castiel had given her out and read over the lyrics to the songs that he wrote for her. Sam was right, at least two were love songs. The song “Out Of Reach” was the saddest on the list. “He likes me...” She gasped. Her thoughts turned to how she felt about him. It wasn’t as if she didn’t think of him romantically, or even sexually, at all. In fact, one of the first wet dreams she had had about boys she knew was about him. “Do I like him?” She thought. “Yeah, probably.” The little voice in her head replied. “Do I want to be with him?” She asked herself. “Most likely.” The voice answered.

★ “MELS! YOU HAVE A VISITOR!” Sophie called as Alana sat at her desk, working on her homework. Sophie was a slim, pale skinned, woman with bright red hair, green eyes and freckles. She often wore a blue and black tartan dress, and a white long sleeved undershirt. “Coming!” Alana called as she saved her work and descended the stairs. Standing before her was the man who she couldn’t get off of her mind. “Hey Alana.” Castiel smiled. “Cass!” Alana blurted out as she ran up to him and threw her arms around him. “Ah, I see Mels’ new boyfriend is here.” A girl smirked from the kitchen. “Freya, stop it.” Sophie scolded. Freya looked like a younger version of Sophie, except she had black hair and was wearing black skinny jeans, a My Chemical Romance shirt, multiple piercings in her ears, several rings on her fingers and black knee high lace up boots. “He’s not my boyfriend!” Alana blurted out, nervously. “At least, not yet.” The voice in her head chuckled. “Alana, you look different.” Castiel blurted out. He was right. Despite the fact that they continued to text daily and video chat every other day, she had made some changes over the year that she had been gone. Alana had reverted back to wearing glasses, and she had even gotten a couple of tattoos. The ones on her arms were floral designs that looked sligthly like roses. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna get those?” He asked, shocked. “I was gonna surprise you. I just got the ones on my arms yesterday.” She explained. “Sweetie, show him the one on your back! That one looks amazing!” Sophie cheered. “You have one on your back too?” He asked. “I was gonna surprise you with that one too... But, yeah.” She nodded as she took the spaghetti strap and bra strap off of her left shoulder and turned around. On her left shoulder blade was the Thunderbird from Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them with Sailor Pluto’s Garnet Rod from Sailor Moon. “I never thought you’d be the type to get ink. You look good.” He smirked. “I see you got more on your arms.” She pointed out. “Yeah. I still want more.” He replied. “Of course you do.” She chuckled.

That night, the Roster Clan had three more visitors. “Mister Murdock, Miss Walters, Miss Castle, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Sophie asked, shocked as the trio entered her home. “Gather your family. Miss Melody needs to be present.” Charlie ordered. “Lynne is still in the hospital recovering.” Sophie stated. “Which is why Miss Melody needs to be present. As the de facto head of the Roster Clan, she is entitled to the information we have, and is the one who has final say over what is done next.” Miss Castle stated. Charlie Murdock was a thin man with pale skin, short combed brown hair and dark eyes. He often wore a black suit with a red tie, and a pair of glasses with crimson lenses in his jacket pocket. Tatiana Walters was a slim, but muscular woman with fair skin, long brown hair, and brown eyes. She often wore a black suit with a green tie. Jessica Castle was a short, muscular, woman with peach colored skin, black hair, and purple eyes. Her outfit of choice was often a black suit, purple tie, and a Punisher pin on her lapel. “But, what could be so bad that you three need to speak directly to her? She’s just a young girl. She needs to be allowed to have her fun before she’s completely thrust into the role of our family’s head.” Sophie sounded worried as she spoke. “Its bad enough for us all to require the input of the head of the family before we move forward. Now, please, assemble the family.” Tatiana requested.

Several minutes later, every member of that section of the Roster Clan, and Castiel gathered in Sophie’s living room. “Is it okay for an outsider to hear this information?” Tatiana asked. “Whatever you three have to say can be said in front of Castiel.” Alana stated. “Are you sure?” Castiel asked. “Yes. If all three of them are here, then its something very serious... And, having you here will definitely help me stay calm.” She replied. “Okay.” He tried to smile. “Now, everyone, I’m sure you all are wondering why we have gathered you here. We have made several revelations that must be shared with you all. We request that you all remain silent until we are done speaking.” Tatiana began. “First of all, the illness that Lynne is experiencing is the same disease that killed Cosima Chevalier and is currently affecting both Viktor and Edgard Chevalier.” Charlie explained. “Secondly, we have concluded that it is not a natural disease, but the result of a certain poison in their systems. I’m sorry that we went around you, Melody, but we got Nate’s and Sam’s permission to test your mother. Which is how we have concluded that it is the same poison that was used on the Chevalier family.” Tatiana explained. “Thirdly, we believe that since Lynne was a target, that both of her daughters are targets as well. Sam has already consented to getting tested for this specific poison. We’d like to have Melody tested. If that’s okay with you, Melody.” Charlie added. “Why would someone want to poison Alana, Sam and their mom?” Castiel asked. Alana looked at Jessica, curiously. “You’ve been rather quiet Miss Castle. Care to share your thoughts?” She requested. “We know who wants the Chevalier line and your branch of the Roster line wiped out. For the Chevalier line, he has been committing the act himself. For the Roster line, he’s been paying an accomplice to do his dirty work.” Jessica stated. “Who?” Alana probed as she grabbed Castiel’s hand. Castiel looked at Alana, worried. “Achille Mekina.” Jessica replied. Almost everyone in the room gasped. Alana’s grip on Castiel’s hand became tighter. “Why would Verity’s husband want Cosima, Edgard, Viktor, Lynne, Sam and Mels dead?” Sophie trembled. “Because we’re all in the way of his desires. Our family is not formally classified as “aristocracy”, yet we are old and we have a certain amount of power to our name. He can’t completely destroy the family because we even have a coat of arms, and we’re spread out throughout the world. Mom emboldened both Cosima and Verity. Her freedom and desires made them both more confident. Cosima’s fiery nature is what made Edgard fall in love with her. While she was alive, he was more okay with Viktor growing up more normally. Since her death, Edgard has fallen in line with the aristocracy and forced Viktor to do so. Achille married into the Mekina family. He convinced Verity’s father, Cyrus, to give him Verity’s hand in marriage and demanded that she kill her free spirit. He’s demanded quiet obedience from both Verity and Severina. But, as he can’t completely stop either of them from associating with our family, he knows that they disobey him when he’s not around. Mom, Sam and I are the definition of what he hates in this world and we encourage his wife and daughter to be their true selves.” Alana explained. “Not to mention, as Edgard’s business partner, if Edgard and Viktor die, their company completely defaults to Achille.” Charlie added. “But Melody! You’re the most “obedient” of the main line of our family, how could you be a target?” Freya asked. Suddenly, a realization hit Alana’s mind like a tsunami and she tightened her grip on Castiel’s hand. “Jessica, has your team figured out who Achille’s accomplice is?” She asked as her voice wavered. “Yes we have.” Jessica nodded. “Who is it?” Sophie asked. “Achille Mekina was paying Carol Dubois to slip Lynne the poison. Verity helped us obtain the recordings from his office. He was promising her a high position in his group if she helped him as well.” Jessica answered. “I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Alana blurted out. “Abusing Sam and me wasn’t enough! Hiding her abuse from mom wasn’t enough! Attempting to use mom and me to get closer to the aristocracy was never enough!” She continued. Tears had come to her eyes and her voice was failing to maintain strength. Castiel let go of her hand and put his arm around her. “We have a lot of proof against both of them. We just need to test you, get Verity divorced, make sure your mother, Viktor and Edgard are healthy enough to testify against them, and submit the evidence in a proper court. We should be able to put them both in prison for the rest of their lives. But, it will take time.” Charlie assured.

When everyone had gone to bed, Castiel stayed in Alana’s room and held her as she cried herself to sleep. He knew that he only had a week to stay with her, but he didn’t want to leave her side at all. When his phone rang, he did his best to stay quiet. “Look, Leo, I will be back in a week. Zach doesn’t have to worry about it. But, right now, someone I care about is going through a really hard time and I need to focus on her.” He whispered. “Is it that girl you’ve written those songs about?” The girl on the other end of the phone asked. Castiel looked at Alana, lovingly. “Yes. It is.” He replied. “I figured. Zach was complaining that you left the country on a whim... But, if its for her, I understand it. She must be very special.” Leo chuckled. Alana squirmed in her sleep for a couple of seconds. “She is.” He smiled.

★

After Lynne had gotten completely better and the legal teams had plunged into the depths of the process to prosecute and convict Achille Pechman and Carol Dubois, Alana applied to finish her degree at Anteros Academy. “Are you sure you wanna leave Scotland?” Sophie asked. “As much as I love it here and as much as I love you all, I wanna go back to Amouria. I miss my old friends.” Alana smiled. “And she probably wants to go home to her boyfriend!” Freya laughed. “And what if I do?!” Alana shot. “So, you’re admitting that Mister Veilmont is your boyfriend?” Sophie asked. “I mean... We’re not... I don’t know..” Alana babbled. “He might as well be.” The voice in her head piped up. “Where will you be staying when you get there?” Sophie inquired. “Agatha doesn’t live far from the college. She said that I can live there while I finish school.” Alana replied. “Have you told your rock star that you’re going home to him?” Freya inquired. “Not yet. His band is gaining in popularity, so he’s a bit more focused on that. I’ll tell him when I get settled.” Alana beamed.

★

“Welcome home, Alana!” Castiel cheered. “Its good to be back.” Alana mused as she held him close. They were standing in the middle of Agatha’s back yard. It was an oasis of trees, flowers, lights, and fairies. Romantic music had begun to play. He took her hands and lead her in a romantic slow dance. “Cass... There’s something I need to tell you...” She stuttered. “What?” He asked, concerned. She looked into his dark eyes and blushed. “I... I..” She began as she bit her lip. “Come on you idiot! Tell him!” The voice in her head ordered. “Is something wrong?” He asked. “Cass... I.. Oh fuck it.” She blurted out as she cupped his face in her hands, stood on her tip toes, leaned closer to him and placed her lips on his. His eyes widened and his heart began pounding even faster. He wrapped his arms around her back and deepened the kiss as her hands slid to wrap around his neck. Their tongues intertwined with heated desperation. It was as if they had finally found something they had been searching for for their entire lives and they wanted to enjoy every second of it. Each time their mouths separated, they crashed back into each other with more passion. When the passion became too much to handle, Castiel stood back from her to catch his breath. “Alana, please say it. I need to hear you say it.” He begged. She nodded and took a minute to calm down. When she gathered her thoughts, she looked at him with conviction. “I’m in love with you Castiel. I’ve wanted to admit it to you much sooner, but I didn’t want you to think that you were just a rebound after Nath and I broke up...” She proclaimed as she bit her lip. “Alana...” He couldn’t help but smile. She looked at him nervously. “Cass...” She muttered. “I’ve wanted to be with you for so long... Do you have any idea how relieved I am to know that you want to be with me? I could write an album.” He professed as tears came to his eyes.

★

A familiar tune reached Alana’s ears. The memory of her favorite Disney movie instantly hit her. “Let it roll right off your shoulder. Don’t you know? The hardest part is over.” Someone sang. She walked in the direction of the music and found Castiel sitting in Agatha’s garden. “You remember!” She beamed as he continued to sing. “Our lives are made in these small hours. These little wonders; These twists and turns of fate. Time falls away; But these small hours; These small hours, still remain...” When the chorus came around again, Alana began to sing along, harmonizing with him. While Castiel did his best to not take his focus from his playing, he couldn’t help but smile. As the song came to an end, they looked at each other lovingly. “I’m not a fan of Rob Thomas... But, when you told me about your love of Meet The Robinsons, I wanted to learn that song for you...” He blushed. “And to think... I thought it was sweet when you showed me that you know how to play “Hakuna Matata” at the beach.” She cooed.

★

The school papers came out and social media was blowing up. “Has Castiel Found Love?”, “Crowstorm Heartthrob Wooed By Roster Heiress!”, “Lynne Roster’s “Sweet Daughter” Clearly Likes Bad Boys!”, “So Much For Quiet Obedience From Melody Roster!”. Castiel looked at them mortified, while Alana sat back on his couch and laughed. “Cass! Listen to this! “The second the aristocratic eyes turn away from Lynne Roster’s little Melody, she goes hog wild! Sporting tattoos, and now a rock star boyfriend, it seems like she just won’t stop! Is this just a phase? Or is this wild style permanent?” If those assholes knew me at all, they’d know that that sweet bullshit was just an act!” She read. “Alana, are you sure this is okay with you? It isn’t okay with me.” He stated. “Its not about if its okay with me. They’re going to do this no matter what I want. Its my job to make my mark and let the world know that I don’t give a damn what they think and want. I am the leading lady of my own life and I’m going to enjoy it!” She boomed. “I don’t like what they’re saying about us.” He muttered. “Cass, they don’t know or care that you’ve written songs about me since before your band was formed. They don’t care that its not the truth. They want their headlines. Its like when they run up to us, taking their pictures. All you can do is raise your middle finger in the air, say “Fuck!” and make it to where they can’t make a quick buck off of your face.” She replied. He put his phone down, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her repeatedly. “That’s my girl.” He purred.

★

“I can’t believe you’re with Castiel now!” Nathaniel boomed as he paced around Agatha’s living room. “And I can’t believe you’re THIS upset about it!” Alana shot as she stood in the kitchen. “You and I break up and you immediately jump into his arms?!” He yelled. “I didn’t “immediately” jump into his arms! He was there for me! When you and I were together, he accepted his position as my friend and didn’t force himself on me! When you and I broke up, I wanted to be single for a while. I was single for a few YEARS before Cass and I got together! And, I’ll have you know, he was there for me during the darkest point in my life! Something YOU couldn’t even be bothered to talk to me about!” She explained. “I’m sorry I didn’t always want to talk about your mom being sick and how worried you were! I’m sorry I didn’t always wanna talk about how Scotland was!” He sassed. “My mom, sister and I were literally being poisoned in an elaborate attempt to wipe out an entire branch of our family! I tried to tell you about it! I TRIED to tell you about what I was doing as the de facto head of my family! I TRIED to tell you how school was going! But you didn’t wanna listen! When we were together, I TRIED to be there for you to the best of my ability! But, you didn’t wanna talk! It felt like I had to pry your teeth out just to get anything from you!” She retorted. Nathaniel’s eyes widened at the revelation. “I know that, unlike Cass, you couldn’t travel to see me. I was well aware of that! But the time difference was only a couple of hours! Not to mention, it wouldn’t have killed you to text me more! Castiel made time for me, even when we were JUST FRIENDS! He texted me, he video chatted with me, he visited me! He’d TALK to me! Hell, Armin, Alexy, Rosa and even Lysander TALKED to me! Cass didn’t make moves on me while I was in pain! At most, he held me the night I cried myself to sleep when we were told about Achille’s and Carol’s attempted assassinations!” She yelled. “But you wouldn’t know that, because while I was actually working and being there for her, you were in alley ways or in random girls’ beds.” Castiel growled as he entered the room. “Shut up Castiel!” Nathaniel snarled. “No, I will not stand for you talking to her like that!” Castiel narrowed his eyes and stood in front of Alana. “YOU.” Nathaniel adjusted his stance and readied his fists. “If we’re going to do this, we’re gonna do it outside.” Castiel ordered. “NEITHER OF YOU are going to do anything! Nathaniel, if you wanna talk to me, the LEAST you can do is be civil about it! I wasn’t lying when I said I still wanna be your friend. But, I will not tolerate being talked down to, or treated like a common whore! I will also remind you both that this is Agatha’s house! And I’d like to keep it nice! AM I CLEAR?!” Alana boomed. Nathaniel and Castiel looked at each other as if they were ready to start a war. “I SAID AM I CLEAR?!” Alana yelled. “Fine!” Nathaniel spat as he left the house. “Of course.” Castiel sighed as he calmed down.

★

NSFW!

The curtains in Castiel’s apartment were pulled and slow music played as he laid on his bed, completely naked. He had placed a condom and a bottle of water based lubricant on his bedside table before laying down. “Are you sure you want this?” He asked nervously. Alana had a devilish grin on her face as she threw her shirt on the ground, undid her belt, slid her pants down her legs, left them on the floor and revealed a set of black lace lingerie. “I’m sure, Castiel. I want this. I want you.” She cooed as she got on the bed and knelt down to his crotch. “Alana...” He sighed. The innocence on his face almost made Alana forget that he hadn’t been a virgin since before he was with Deborah. The sweetness in his eyes made something in her stir. “I love you Cass, and I want to show you how good you make me feel.” She smiled. Before Castiel could respond, she already had him in her mouth, licking and sucking each and every inch of his length. He couldn’t help but gasp at the sudden warmth of her mouth surrounding him as his hand gripped his sheets. She looked up at him and giggled. “That was cute.” She winked. Alana began peppering his length with kisses and licking the head. “Alana!” He quietly moaned. His breathing became heavier as he enjoyed every stroke and flick of her tongue. When his other hand had begun to grip the bed, she laid down and kissed him. “Do you want this?” She asked, sweetly. “Yes.” He nodded. “Good.” She smiled. Alana straddled his hips and brought her hands to the clasp of her bra. “Thank god I picked the set that hooks in the front!” She thought. With a quiet “CLICK!” the clasp was undone and her breasts were released from their lacy prison. She could feel his length pulsing against her panties as her core became wetter and wetter. “Alana, get on the bed.” He requested. “Okay.” She nodded as she obeyed.

As the night progressed, Castiel and Alana didn’t get much sleep. Castiel did his best to have his actions show how much he had been dreaming and longing to make love to her for several years. By the time the night ended, she had climaxed so many times that he had to carry her to the bathroom to get cleaned off. “I love you my sweet Melody.” He cooed when he laid her back in the bed. “I love you too my darling Cass.” She breathed as he laid down next to her.

★

The night of Graduation Day, Alana’s family wanted to have a party at Agatha’s, but Castiel had promised that Crowstorm would play at The Snake Room. “We can do the party another day!” She cheered as Sam, Ken, Viktor and Severina stood in the street with her parents, Verity and Castiel. “But Melody!” Lynne whined. “Come on, Lynne. Let the kids have fun tonight. We can have a big graduation party later.” Verity smiled. “And Castiel did promise the school he’d play. We don’t want him to break a promise like that.” Nate nodded. “As Mels’ best friend, I’d also like to formally welcome you to “The Crew”. You’re one of us now Castiel!” Severina mused.

Crowstorm took the stage as the club filled with the cheers of graduates and their guests. Alana and her group stood up front, celebrating. “Thank you all for coming! You know who we are. And today, we’re starting with our new song, “She’s Mine”.” Castiel announced as he started playing. The song was about how, after years of hoping, he had finally won the heart of the woman who was out of reach, and how he never wanted to let her go. When the song ended, Castiel held his hand out to Alana, brought her onstage and kissed her passionately. As they parted, Alana couldn’t help but smile. “You’re right, Castiel Veilmont. I am yours.”

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

I’ve wanted to write this “What If” story for a bit. It doesn’t showcase the entire relationship, as it mostly really just covers UL, because if I did the entire relationship, I’d have to write multiple chapters.

This effectively screws Alana, in the main timeline, over even more... As, in the main timeline, Glasgow isn’t even an option for her and Lynne to go when Lynne gets sick.

Charlie Murdock was inspired by Daredevil. Charlie Cox is the actor who plays him in the MCU. He was first described in “Power, Lies, and Desperation” and is the lead Roster Family lawyer. He is a thin man with pale skin, short combed brown hair and dark eyes. He often wore a black suit with a red tie, and a pair of glasses with crimson lenses in his jacket pocket.

Tatiana Walters was inspired by She Hulk. Tatiana Maslany plays her in the MCU. She is a slim, but muscular woman with fair skin, long brown hair, and brown eyes. She often wore a black suit with a green tie.

Jessica Castle was inspired by both Jessica Jones and Frank Castle (Punisher) from Marvel. She is a short, muscular, woman with peach colored skin, black hair, and purple eyes. Her outfit of choice was often a black suit, purple tie, and a Punisher pin on her lapel.

Pechman was chosen for Achille’s family name. It means “man with bad luck” and is of German origin. I did take a bit of inspiration from RWBY for his story. Like Jacques Schnee, Achille found a family that has more prestige and power and convinced the patriarch to let him marry his daughter. Unlike Willow Schnee, Verity doesn’t turn to alcohol while her husband wreaks havoc.

Sophie is one of Alana’s grandmother’s two little sisters. Skye is her daughter. Freya is Skye’s daughter. Rory is Skye’s brother. William is Rory’s son. Freya dyes her hair black.

I must admit, it was very weird to write Nathaniel like that... I’m so used to writing his and Alana’s love story that, writing him as her ex, felt wrong...

The scene involving Sylvester’s funeral was painful to write. I thought of when I lost my cat, Luna in 2014, and the funeral I would have like to have had for her.

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lonerotaku · 3 years

Text

5 o’clock

Eustass Kid x F Reader

So hi I was listening to T-Pain while cooking, so I wrote this instead of doing my college work lol I just shat it out, but let me know if I should continue it I kinda stopped at the “Floor to the dresser” part of the song. Kinda wanted to go to “Damn bae you woke me up-”

It’s 5 a.m and here you lie, alone, in the bed of Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid Pirates. Kid and the rest of the crew went out to party earlier in the night, but you weren’t really in the party mood so you stayed behind to watch the ship. You and Kid had been talking back and forth on the Den Den Mushi they left behind in case something happened on the ship, but around 3:30 he stopped picking up, probably because the conversation was getting kind of boring. HE told you that they’d be back soon hours ago, yet you’re still here in his bed alone. Originally, you had planned to sit on the deck and watch the stars, but when Kid told you he’d be there soon, you got excited and decided to wait for him in bed. Sex with Kid while he was drunk was a whole different experience and you were ready to be manhandled, but alas he never came.

“Hey Kid shouldn’t you get that?” Killer hummed a bit as the small snail sounded off.

“She’s just gonna ask when I’m coming back again.” Kid feigned annoyance, but deep down he wanted to go back to the ship and fuck you till noon. His pride wouldn’t allow him to though, not after that emo bastard Trafalgar Law told him he was whipped and lost his touch. Kid was determined to leave when he was ready, and not on your time. Yes, he was determined, he was determined until he thought back to the beginning of your relationship when you waited up for him wearing nothing but his coat and bracelets. Memories of the downright sinful things the two of you brought a smile to his face and a forming tent in his pants.

“Y/N is going to kill you.”

“Huh?” He was brought out of his trance by his best friend’s voice. He was confused until he noticed his pants had gotten tighter. The girls dancing around were ecstatic, thinking they had a chance with a member of the Worst Generation, but Kid was having none of it. He could practically hear your voice going ‘What is he doing..’ on repeat.

“Fuck this…”

“Finally giving in to temptation?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He could hear the smirk in that masked fucker’s voice. Kid didn’t care anymore though. He fucking needed his woman.

When he got outside he noticed that the sun was starting to come up.

“She’s gonna be rabid when I get there..” He mumbled to himself. Kid has never moved this fast without a damn good reason, and you were one of those reasons.

When he got to the ship he expected you to jump him as soon as he got on-board, but the ship was silent.

“Ohh~” He knew exactly what was happening. He rushed to his bedroom to see what sexy surprise you had planned this time, but he was thoroughly disappointed when he entered the room and saw you passed out under the blankets. He frowned to himself and scoffed. When underneath.

“I swear if there’s another dude-,”

“Kid..?”

You sat up and yawned, letting the blanket slip off your shoulders. Kid’s frown slowly went back to his cocky grin as he drank in the sight of you in nothing but his feathered coat, your sleepy voiced and expression making it look like you’ve been fucked out of your mind.

“Fuck baby..” He said as he threw his slutty vest to the ground and began undoing his pants. When he stripped to his briefs and pinned you to the bed, you were hit with the overwhelming scent of alcohol. He’s drunk.

“Kid-” You choked on your words as he began nipping and licking at your exposed nipples.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You pouted for a second before jolting and grabbing his hair as he makes it down to your core and licks a stripe between your lips. It was rare that Kid gave you oral, but before you could speak, Kid had sat up, losing balance, and fell on his ass on the floor behind him.

“Shit! Baby you okay?” You quickly got up and walked over to him, crouching the meet his level.

“M’fine. Come here.”

“Wha-”

Before you could say anything he grabbed your hips and pulled them so you hovered over his face.

“Kid wai- ahhh~”

Kid pulled your hips down and immediately began working at your hole. He positioned his non-metallic hand so that he could rub your clit with his thumb as he devoured your pussy. You whimpered out a moan and began rolling your hips to gain more friction. You felt your insides flutter as your lover maneuvered his tongue along your walls, coming shockingly close to a g-spot. Kid noticed your panting and shuddering and decided to apply a little pressure to your clit, sending you over the edge. You cried out his name as you came all while kid was lapping up your juices.

“You didn’t get to finish..”

Kid picked you up as he stood and carried you to the dresser, pinning you between him and the surface.

“Who said we were finished?”

#eustass kid #kid pirates #eustass kid x reader #one piece #one piece imagine #killer #massacre soldier killer

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thekisforkeats · 3 years

Text

Love Languages

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T probably for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set post-MAG 22, with a coda post-MAG 159. Everyone is ND and everyone is trans because that’s just how my personal S1 Archives gang rolls.

CWs: Mentions of ableism and Martin’s mother. I’d say canon-typical worms but the worms don’t really come up except in passing.

I do not know anything about BSL, so I did not try to describe the signs.

Summary: A love language is not just about how you best show love and affection; it is also about the ways you best receive love and affection. And so, for someone like Martin, who shows love by going out of his way to help others, someone going out of their way to help him, well. What better way for him to realize just how loved he is?

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

The first time Martin went completely non-verbal after starting work in the Archives, it was the morning after giving Jon the statement about Jane Prentiss.

It wasn’t a surprising development, really. Martin didn’t go fully non-verbal that often, but when he did it was almost always a thing that started in the morning and lasted most of the day. Sometimes it wore off by the time he went to bed, sometimes it lasted until the next morning.

After his mother’s diagnosis, he’d been unable to speak for an entire week. That hadn’t gone over well--as much as his mother wanted him to be quiet, she didn’t like the “silent treatment,” as she called it.

Martin hated that she’d called it that, as though his non-verbal episodes were anything he did on purpose. Some days talking just felt like a chore; those days he could get by only forcing words out when he had to. But some days, the worst days, he just couldn’t talk. He could understand other people just fine, he could make noises, sometimes he could even hum. And he could definitely read and write. But speaking words, aloud? No. He could not speak, on these days, however much he may have wanted to.

As Martin grew older and learned more about himself, he learned words and reasons and coping mechanisms. He realized that some of the problem came from dysphoria and the longer he was on hormones the less often it happened. He realized that he was autistic (even if he never got diagnosed), and learned how to handle the episodes that still occurred. He took sign languages classes because it was a good and useful thing to know regardless, to be able to communicate with more people.

As many Deaf people had learned before Martin, he’d found himself in plenty of situations when nobody around him knew BSL, so he’d found a phone app that let him type out things he wanted to say and repeated them in a tinny, mechanical voice. Feminine, but he found it didn’t cause dysphoria; it wasn’t his voice. It was the app speaking for him, a robot lady translating his words.

Martin was fairly certain he was going to need the robot lady to speak for him today, and he was dreading the whole idea. The app got him a range of reactions from scorn to derision to faux sympathy. The last time he’d done so at work, the Institute library staff had regarded him with such pity that he’d called in sick the two other times it had happened since.

He’d woken early, because he was always awake fairly early, to ensure he looked presentable and got to work on time. He did not want Jonathan “Crisply Professional At All Times” Sims giving him that look again. The particular look that was “I highly disapprove of your sartorial choices but I’m not going to get into it right now because I have so very much else to do. Nonetheless, if I could fire you for what you’re wearing I would.”

Jon had a lot of looks. Martin fervently wished he could stop categorizing them; he very much disliked his boss, and very much wanted to stop thinking about Jon quite as much as he did.

Jon was attractive, that much Martin had noticed the first day he’d come in, with a jawline Martin would’ve loved to trace with his fingers, eyes sharp and deep and intelligent, salt-and-pepper hair that Martin would have tangled his fingers in gladly.

Except, of course, that Jon was also a prick who didn’t like Martin one bit and made that very clear. He’d put down on record that he thought Martin would “contribute nothing but delays.” Martin was not such a sucker for punishment that he would put up with someone who hated him just for a pretty face. The tiny potential blossom of a crush had been, well, crushed five seconds after it had poked its head above ground, by Jon’s declaration that he could dismiss Martin if he didn’t resolve the “dog situation” immediately.

Martin counted his lucky stars every day that Jon had not, in fact, dismissed him, despite having had to deal with a doggy mess. The luck was really in having Tim around, Martin figured; Jon actually seemed fond of Tim, and the other man had managed to smooth the entire situation over.

Martin had fallen asleep last night thinking about the new look Jon had given him yesterday: concerned. Truly, genuinely concerned, which had rather taken Martin aback. He’d been certain Jon wouldn’t believe him, would scoff and roll his eyes at the entire statement, and instead he’d just looked… concerned.

And then Jon had offered Martin the cot that he’d woken up in this morning.

It wasn’t the look of concern that had Martin non-verbal, though; of that he was certain. It was the stress of the last two weeks, and dumping out the statement yesterday, and all the whirl of figuring out how to live in the Archives. Jon’s insistence on going with him to pick up basics with a toothbrush at the convenience store, and then coming back to be sure he was okay. Jon finding clean sheets and discussing how he’d do his laundry. Jon had expensed clothing bought online to the Institute, including next-day shipping, because he’d “lost access to his flat and thus his wardrobe in the line of duty.” It had all been bewildering and overwhelming and it was no real surprise that Martin was in the state he found himself when he woke.

Martin had known as soon as he’d opened his eyes. It was just there, the feeling of nope can’t talk today. He’d pulled on his binder and the same clothing he’d worn the day before and then fumbled around for his phone. Which… he didn’t have. The damn worm-hive-lady had stolen it from him. Well, shit.

He managed to avoid having to figure out how to talk while he went out to get breakfast, just pointing at a scone in the display and smiling at the guy behind the counter as if he wasn’t secretly irritated by the price of everything in Chelsea. By the time Martin got back, Jon was already in his office, so thank God he’d avoided that awkward interaction. He went to make himself tea, and had his breakfast in the breakroom, and brushed his teeth, and then went to get started on…

Wait. He didn’t even know what they were working on right now.

Well, he wasn’t going to bother Jon about it; however nice he’d been last night it surely must have worn off by now, and Martin had no interest in summoning one of his boss’ looks this early in the morning. Normally he’d still be on his commute at this hour.

After a moment’s thought, he went to go see what they’d recorded in his absence, and soon had a stack of statements on his desk. They’d gotten through five statements in the two weeks he’d been gone. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe Martin did contribute “nothing but delays.”

Pushing the thought aside, Martin focused on listening to the tapes, and was just finishing up listening to the second half of Father Edwin Burroughs’ statement when Tim came into the shared office the assistants used.

“Hey, you’re in early. You get the email?”

Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

Tim snorted. “Jon claims he’s got something to warn us about, something that ‘won’t parse properly through digital means.’” He rolled his eyes. “Which is Jon-speak for ‘it’s a weird thing and I don’t want to admit it’s a weird thing because I have to keep my skeptic hat on to preserve my self-image.”

Martin chuckled in solidarity, then gestured toward the door to Jon’s office, to indicate that’s where their boss was.

“Not coming?” Tim asked, his own eyebrow raised. When Martin shrugged, he said, “Well, I guess if you didn’t get the email…” Tim also shrugged, then said, “Guess I’d better get it over with. Wish me luck!”

Martin gave him a thumbs up.

When Sasha came in, Martin silently directed her to Jon’s office as well, then heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had to explain being non-verbal at all yet, and it was already nine o’clock. Maybe if he was lucky, Jon would warn them off talking to him and he’d manage to make it the entire day without having to explain the whole “non-verbal” business to anyone he saw on a regular basis.

Alas, it was barely thirty minutes later that Tim and Sasha returned to talk to him, both wearing expressions of mingled concern and guilt. When they spoke it was a flood of the usual, expected platitudes:

“We’re so sorry!”

“We didn’t know!”

“Are you okay??”

And such like.

Martin shrugged and nodded and shook his head in all the right places, and evidently Jon had played them the tape of his statement so he didn’t have to explain it all again (thank God), and he thought maybe, maybe he could even figure out what statement they were working on right now if he just listened to their chatter after they were done with the niceties, but then…

Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.

Which is to say, Tim actually looked at Martin, and said, “You’re being awfully quiet. You sure you’re okay?”

And then he and Sasha just… sat there, looking at him expectantly.

Martin sighed and reached for a piece of scrap paper and wrote, I’m autistic and sometimes I go non-verbal. Today’s one of those days, but I don’t have my phone anymore, so no communication app.

As he held up the paper so the others could read the words, Martin braced himself for the ensuing reactions. Pity, probably, like those in the Institute library, and he couldn’t even call in sick to avoid it; he’d rather have scorn and derision. At least those reactions were honest.

What he got from them was not pity, however, nor even scorn.

Sasha hummed. “Autism explains a lot, actually. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”

Tim grinned and clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Yeah, why didn’t you just say so? It’s fine, you’ve been through an ordeal. And so you know--you’re hardly the only neurodivergent in the Archives.”

Martin blinked at Tim, then wrote: Wait, what? Who…?

“Would you believe me if I said all of us?” Tim said with a grin. “I have ADD, Jon’s… well… he’s Jon, and as for Sasha…”

Sasha sighed in fond exasperation and cut in, “Tim…”

“I contend that you cannot be neurotypical, Ms. James. You fit in too well around here.”

“I am not admitting to anything on Institute property,” Sasha said with aplomb. “And you shouldn't have either, but here we are.” She looked at Martin. “If HR finds out and they give you any trouble, let us know and we’ll figure out what to do.”

Tim, in the meanwhile, pulled out his phone. “Here, go ahead and use mine for now, until your replacement gets here or whatever. What’s the app so I can install it for you?”

Martin’s jaw had dropped open. Tim having ADD made sense; what did he mean about Jon, though? And Sasha? And what did Sasha mean about HR? And… and why were they being so… nice? So… understanding? It wasn’t an act, or at least he didn’t think it was. They seemed… genuinely fine with it. Accepting, even.

It was the strangest thing Martin had experienced in a while, and that was including the worm-riddled woman who’d stood outside his door for two straight weeks.

From there the day just… went on as normal. Tim installed the app on the phone, Martin’s robot phone lady spoke for him, the three of them did their work, and everything was fine.

Until, of course, the nature of their work reared its ugly head. They were discussing the statement of Leanne Denikin, case #0051701, which they had yet to attach a pithy name to; hence the discussion. It had long since become standard practice to attach a name to the “weirder” statements, to make them easier to discuss. (Jon insisted on using the case numbers on tape still, which was annoying, given that was the only place he did that.)

Martin was reading through the statement, and he typed into Tim’s phone: What do you think of this bit? “Be still, for there is strange music.”

What came out of the phone’s speakers, however, was garbled static followed by high-pitched screeching that startled Martin so much he actually dropped the phone.

Jon was walking in just as this happened; he stopped in the doorway, blinking. “What on Earth was that?”

“Martin’s robot lady gave Tim’s phone an aneurysm, I think,” Sasha said, eyeing Martin as well.

Martin scrabbled on the floor for the phone, pulled up the app (which had crashed), and typed, I don’t know what happened!! I was just typing in something from one of the statements!

Jon frowned at him sharply. “What are you doing with Tim’s phone? Are you quite well?”

“No, Martin is not ‘quite well,’” Tim said. “Non-verbal for the day.”

Then Jon did something that stunned Martin: Jon signed at him, specifically, “Do you know sign language?” He spoke aloud as he said this, too, but also raised his eyebrows and gave a quizzical tilt to his head to convey that he was asking a question.

Martin blinked rapidly, then signed back: “Yes, actually. But Tim and Sasha don’t.”

Jon nodded, then said aloud, along with signing, “Why are you non-verbal, exactly?”

“I have autism,” Martin signed. “Sometimes talking is overwhelming and sometimes, especially in stressful situations, I can’t talk at all. Woke up that way today. It should be gone by tomorrow morning.” Why was he explaining so much more to Jon than he had to the others? Maybe just because Jon knew sign, and thus could communicate in a language Martin found much easier than even the typing.

Jon frowned thoughtfully, then nodded again. Then, still speaking and signing both, “What were you typing into your phone?”

“Be still, for there is strange music. From the statement.” Martin gestured to the statement on his desk.

Jon’s frown deepened and he repeated the words. “‘Be still, for there is strange music….’” His expression went slack for a moment, and then he shook himself. “Right. Well. Just… just… I’ll be right back.” Then he abruptly turned and left the room.

Tim and Sasha exchanged bewildered looks. Then Sasha asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”

“I forgot Jon knows BSL,” Tim replied thoughtfully. “Hard of hearing on one side. Not that he’d have agreed to interpret all day or anything.”

Martin shrugged. It’s alright, he typed. This works just fine.

“Well, no, obviously not for some things.” Jon had reappeared as suddenly as he’d disappeared, holding a small brown notebook the size of Martin’s hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting the notebook at Martin. “This will work better, for communicating about the statements. You needn’t use it with me, of course, unless signing is also taxing.”

Martin stared up at Jon. There was an entirely new look on his boss’ face. Not any level of scorn or sneer, nor even concern. He was… nervous. Fidgety. Like he was offering a gift that he was afraid might be rejected.

Something went flip in Martin’s stomach and it was like the entire world turned upside down. Suddenly, in light of Jon’s actions in the last 24 hours, he saw the way his boss had acted toward him the last six months for what it was: a defense mechanism. Armor pulled up around someone fragile and soft and sweet, someone so terrified of rejection that he went about making sure it happened preemptively so he wouldn’t be hurt.

Martin had a sudden, fierce desire to hug Jon and tell him everything would be okay. It was so bewildering a sensation--he didn’t even like the man! At all!--that he just took the notebook with a nod and a signed “Thank you,” eyes still very wide.

Jon nodded in return. “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, and seemed to relax a little. “Well. Then. I think we’ve found the name for this one, given the way Tim’s phone reacted to those words. ‘Strange Music’ it is.” He straightened himself. “Tim, you said something about the organ reminding you of articles you’ve read…?”

Tim nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can find them for you.”

“Right. Well, then, Sasha, if I could ask you to look through the Archive like we talked about? I’m certain we’ve had a statement from Jane Prentiss.” Jon then turned to Martin. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping me with ‘Schwarzwald?’ You used to work in the library, right?”

Martin was still staring at Jon in confusion, but nodded.

Jon actually smiled at him. Faintly. “Well, then, I’m certain you must know where to find the German history reference books, if you could go grab whatever they’ll let you bring down?”

The strangest thing about it was, Jon seemed sincere. Like he actually believed Martin did, indeed, know the library well enough to just… go up there and find the German history reference books. The faint, confident-in-his-assistant smile was a new look, at least directed at Martin; he’d seen Jon look at Tim and Sasha that way many times before.

Martin’s stomach was doing cartwheels. There were butterflies taking up residence in his intestines. His heart was pounding. How had he never noticed how nice Jon’s smile was? Soft and small, like he was afraid to let it actually take up residence on his face for too long.

Oh, God, oh, no. Martin could not fancy his boss. Jon hated him. Or, well, no, evidence suggested that perhaps Jon did not hate him, but Jon most certainly did not fancy him. This crush had to disappear, just as fast as it had come. This would not do.

He was going to be writing poetry again tonight, wasn’t he? Crap.

“Martin?” Jon’s tone was concerned rather than sharp, and the way Jon said his name made Martin want to sink into the floor.

Instead, he scribbled furiously in the notebook and held it up so all three of the others could see: Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about where that’d be. I’ll bring them down as soon as I find them.

Jon practically beamed at Martin’s use of the notebook and he nodded briskly. “Right! I’ll be in my office when you have the books, then.” He started to turn away.

Martin’s heart went pound pound pound because oh wow Jon was really cute when he let that smile take up more of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he made a noise to get the other man’s attention.

Jon turned around, quirking a brow. “Yes, Martin?”

Martin signed, “Tea?” He, too, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to indicate the question.

Jon nodded. “Tea would be lovely, yes.” He smiled at Martin for a brief moment, and then suddenly looked flustered. He glared at them all. “Anyway,” he snapped in his ‘boss’ voice, the impact of which was ruined by the flush rising in his cheeks, “there’s still work to be done. So let’s… do it.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the office.

Had Jon blushed because Martin had offered him tea? Did Jon like his tea that much? Was Martin imagining things? He had to be imagining things. He put his head down on the desk and wrapped his arms over it so he could grab at handfuls of hair. What was happening to him?

Sasha tried to make her voice serious, but couldn't quite manage it past quite clearly holding back giggles. “Mourn for poor Martin, working alone with Jon.” She looked at Tim. “We should call HR preemptively, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Nah, I think Jon’s softening on our boy,” Tim said with a laugh. He reached over to ruffle Martin’s hair with one hand while he took his phone back with the other. “Don’t worry, Marto. I told you he’d come around one day.”

Martin looked up at Tim with a stricken, betrayed expression. In the notebook: Is this how you comfort me in my hour of need??

Sasha shook her head. “For once, Tim’s being serious. You weren’t in the room when Jon explained things to us. He’s worried about you, he doesn’t want you to have to leave the Institute alone, he doesn’t want you to have to look for the Prentiss statement in case it’s ‘too traumatic’ for you to run across on your own. He actually asked us if we thought we should avoid any mention of Prentiss altogether in your presence.”

“I told him no,” Tim said. “I hope that was okay. You seem like you’d rather deal with trauma by facing it and figuring it out, rather than avoiding it entirely.”

Matin gaped at them. Really? he wrote. Jon’s… worried about me? Really? As if he hadn’t seen the evidence just now that Jon was, indeed… softening.

Tim gave Martin a very serious look. “I’ve told you before… I’ve known Jon, well, not as long as I’ve known Sasha, but for a long while now. He’s prickly and thorny, even to people he cares about, but that’s a front and I’ve said so. You just didn’t believe me.”

“In Martin’s defense,” Sasha put in, “Jon’s been awfully ‘prickly and thorny’ to him specifically.”

Tim put up a hand. “Oh, I agree. I have had words with our dear boss about the way he treats Martin, largely because I’m one of the few people he might actually listen to.” He looked at Martin. “I don’t want to take the credit, because it’s really been a remarkably fast turnaround, but I’d like to think I helped, a little.”

Martin frowned thoughtfully. Thank you, he wrote. If Jon’s at ‘I can stand Martin’ instead of ‘Martin is the source of all bad that happens in the Archives’ work might be… better than tolerable, for once.

“That’s the spirit!” Tim said with a grin. “Now, then, Jon did say to get back to work…”

Jon gave Martin another of those soft smiles when Martin brought in the tea, a smile which widened on seeing the stack of books he carried in right after. That afternoon, spent sitting and going through books and discussing the Schwarzwald statement, was the first of many they’d spend together, reading and talking and comparing notes.

Martin was feeling verbal again the next morning, but he kept the notebook. If nothing else, it was a good place to jot down poetry. And it came in handy when he found himself unable to speak the morning after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives.

And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.

And the morning after Jon disappeared, leaving Jurgen Leitner’s body at his desk. (Martin blamed that on the corridors more than the body, really.)

Funnily enough, he didn’t need it the morning after the Unknowing. But he kept it with him that day all the same, the first gift Jon had ever given him, and one of the few things he had left of him with Jon in a coma.

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

When they reached Daisy’s safehouse in Scotland, Martin had hoped he’d somehow manage to dodge the threat of going non-verbal. He’d been the one to drive the car, over Jon’s protests; it was something to focus on, to keep him remembering he was alive and real. He’d clutched the wheel and driven north north north with Jon giving directions in the passenger seat.

Martin had finally figured out that it was the chance to stop and think about trauma that led to his being non-verbal, which was why it was almost always a thing that hit in the morning. Adrenaline would keep him running after a stressful event, and then he’d carry himself through the rest of the day trying to clean up whatever mess had been caused. But sleep was enough for his body and brain to both tell him to stop, to process, to deal with whatever he’d run into.

It was possible, in hindsight, that he’d gone non-verbal more than once since the Unknowing and just hadn’t noticed because he’d been barely interacting with anyone. He’d certainly had a bad bout the morning after his mother’s funeral, dealing with so much misgendering and fake smiles. And there had been more than enough trauma to try to process in the past year, so it must have happened before.

He’d just really, really hoped it wouldn’t now, because he didn’t want to put Jon through that. (Why he thought he was putting Jon through anything he didn’t really want to examine. It made him feel Lonely, and that was bad.)

At any rate, the realization of why he went non-verbal had led to him keeping busy in order to hold it off, in order to hold himself together. So he drove, and he puttered about the cabin poking into cupboards, and he talked to Jon, and he talked to the shop lady in the village, and he brought back food and made dinner with Jon, and everything was good and fine.

And then he woke up the next morning, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, and he could not speak.

There was the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes cooking, and Martin made his bleary way out into the main room of the cabin and peered at Jon, already up and dressed and cooking.

His boyfriend turned to look at him and smiled, one of those soft smiles Martin had come to love so much. “Sleep well?”

"Not really,” Martin signed. “I mean…” He gestured at his throat.

Jon nodded. “I figured you might feel that way this morning. I, uhh… hold on a moment, I need to….” He grabbed the pan of bacon and moved it off the heat, pulled a pancake off the griddle and deposited it on a plate, then turned off the stove and went to poke around in one of the bags.

Martin chuckled fondly. “What’re you looking for?”

Jon was still digging through his bag. “When I was grabbing essentials at the store, back in London, I was thinking, you’ve been through a lot, and the notebook I gave you before must be full if you even have it anymore. I know you were writing poetry in it, and… oh, here we go.”

Jon came up with another small notebook. This one was not plain and brown, the way the first one he’d gifted Martin all those years ago had been. This one was black, and had silvery stars on its cover that, as Jon held out the book and thus tilted it through the light, shimmered into rainbows.

“Just in case, you know, the shop lady doesn’t know BSL.”

Martin blinked at the notebook.

“It, uhh… I know it’s not your usual style,” Jon said, his voice suddenly nervous. He was looking down at the notebook as he spoke, instead of at Martin. “Not… retro. But… I saw it and I thought of you.” He paused. “That tape, where you were talking to Simon Fairchild. He talked about the ‘cosmic scale,’ and how we’ve never even been alive on that time frame, and you said… what was it? You said, ‘I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.’ And I just… that was… maybe the most… it was very… you. And there were other options, flowers or cursive writing, o-or… I don’t know, they all seemed so obvious, but this…”

Jon swallowed, and finally looked up at Martin. “I thought, after the Lonely, you might like a reminder that, you have value. That… that to me, you shine as bright as any star.” And then he flushed, and Martin knew it was for him, just as he now knew the flushes about tea all those years ago had also been for him.

Martin was gaping. Oh. Oh. Jon… loved him. Which he’d known, intellectually, but the emotional knowledge of it hit him suddenly, took his breath away. He knew it, all at once, in that “oh we could spend the rest of our lives together” way he’d never really thought he’d ever feel.

Jon had clearly misinterpreted the expression; he started stammering, “I-if… it it’s bad, I can… well, no, I can’t take it back, stupid, I should’ve just grabbed the one that had--”

Martin cut him off by reaching out to take the notebook from Jon and reached out with his other hand to cup the shorter man’s cheek. He smiled, and because he’d realized long ago how well Jon responded to physical touch, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Then he pulled back to put the notebook aside on the counter and signed, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

Jon smiled, both speaking and signing, “I love you, too.”

And for once in his life, Martin knew that to be true, and trusted that knowledge. He was loved. He had been loved, and he would be loved for the rest of his life, whatever state his voice was in.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jon sims #jonathan sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #archives gang #otp: one way or another together #fanfic #my fanfic #ableism tw #jmart #canon tma fic

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ewritesfanfics · 2 years

Text

Day 6: Bounty Hunters

@krexieweek

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36919867

A/N: So, I hadn't meant it to at first, but somehow this ended up just being basically the same universe as my fic for Day 1: Battle of the Bands. Make of that what you will.

---

To say Douxie is panicking would be an understatement.

One might think that, after all these years, he might have a better handle on keeping cool, calm, and collected in tense situations, but alas, he does not. Especially not when it comes to his friends.

Especially not when it comes to Krel.

So, when he got a garbled and barely legible text message from the Akiridion, with the only readable words being ‘attack’ and ‘help’, he ran from his barely-an-apartment without a second thought, sprinting through the streets of Arcadia in basically his pajamas, lacking shoes, house keys, and Archie. He’s just thankful his barely-an-apartment isn’t that far from the location.

“I thought my running days were over!” he hears Toby cry out.

He cuts between two buildings just in time to come upon a large, glowing orange creature hurl a double-ended hammer at the group with a loud, “I will crush you!”

“Clipeatusa!”

Before Aja can even finish putting up her serrator-shield, Douxie’s ward surrounds the group, reflecting the hammer at a high, sharp angle, and sending it spinning far into the night. The extraterrestrial holds out its hand in an obvious gesture to resummon his weapon, but Douxie figures with the force it shot off with, he’s bought at least a little time.

“What was that!?” Eli cries out.

“Your backup!” Douxie responds, already thinking of all the possible spells he could use here.

“Douxie!” Krel calls out.

“Douxie!?” Eli calls out.

“We fighting or running? Because if it’s the latter, we should get a move on before that hammer comes back!”

“Fight!” Toby says at the same time the rest of them say, “Run!”

“You’ve been outvoted Toby, go!” Douxie says, the whooshing sound of air displacement by a large, spinning object drawing nearer, signaling the end of the time he bought.

“It’s hammer time!”

“Quick, behind Stuart Electronics!” Aja says, and the group files in quickly, Douxie bringing up the rear and locking in a shield charm.

On the other side, Douxie reflects the hammer once more, and the muscles in his arms strain and groan from the effort. The shield charm may deflect things, but there’s still momentum and mass. He could shield against those as well, but that would be two more spells on top of this or an incredibly draining and complex shield spell, and he doesn’t feel like passing out in an alley right now.

The creature goes after his hammer that was ricocheted in the opposite direction, which gives them enough time to put some distance between them.

They make a break for it through the forest and come upon the Tarron’s house – connected to a very large ship.

He knew the mothership was large, but actually seeing it from the outside is a whole different matter.

“There’s a spaceship growing out of your house? You have a space house?” Toby gasps.

“Shh,” Aja insists, “The bounty hunter could have followed us.”

“Also, our ‘spaceship’ prefers to be called Mother,” Krel adds.

“Let’s hope she knows how to stop whatever that lifeform was,” Aja says.

They sneak around to roughly where the front entrance is.

“How’re we going to get up there?” Eli asks, but he doesn’t get to finish his question before Aja parkours between the trees and flips through the open door, disappearing from sight.

“Go ahead Krel, I can help these guys,” Douxie says, and Krel nods, following the same path that Aja took.

“How’re you gonna help us?” Steve asks.

“Sina pondera facti,” Douxie says, pointing at them. They are briefly outlined in blue, a rune appearing above their heads, and then, they return to normal. “Now, everybody hold hands and pretend you like each other.”

“Wait, what did you do to us?” Steve asks.

“Hold hands?” Eli asks.

“Just do it.”

The three boys do so, and Douxie puts himself between Toby and Steve, and Steve has Eli on his other side.

“Now, don’t let go until I’ve let go.”

“What happens if we do let go?” Toby asks.

“You’ll get flung into the stratosphere.”

“What!?” Toby and Eli cry out in shock, and Steve says in confusion.

“Hold on tight! Salira altum sea!”

With that, Douxie jumps. The other teens scream, their grips almost bruising, as they are sent flying high through the air, rocketing far up past the house, and above the tree line, but only very briefly, before sharply plummeting.

“This is gonna hurt!” he calls out, and since he can’t exactly call up the spell on his bracelet, he just opts for shouting, “Tarda descensus!”

They hit the blue barrier that forms in front of them about 10 feet from the step of the house, and then Douxie lets it go, along with the spell he placed on the others. They each fall the rest of the way, landing painfully, but successfully.

“What the ever-loving flip was that?” Steve wheezes from where he lays.

“A weightlessness spell, a jumping spell, then an anti-gravity spell. Or a fall-slowing spell, depending on how you wish to look at it.”

“So … how would we have been sent into the stratosphere if we let go?” Toby asks.

“Well, as according to Newton’s First Law of Motion, an object in motion remains in motion at constant speed and in a straight line unless acted on by an unbalanced force. Now, think of the force equation, F = ma, force equals mass multiplied by acceleration. Via my spell, your mass aka variable ‘m’ was magically counteracted and reduced to as close to zero as I could get, and then I introduced a variable ‘a’, acceleration. The ‘a’ multiplied by my ‘m’ was enough force to take us up as high as we went. At the height of our arc, ‘a’ had decayed enough that the up-force became less than the down-force, or gravity. But see, your ‘m’ was much less than mine and we had the same ‘a’, meaning your total up-force was much greater than my own. It would have taken a lot longer for gravity to become the greater force acting upon you. You would eventually come down, but it would have taken a long time.

“And if I were to release the weightlessness spell after you let go, you would come down faster with the increased ‘m’, but you would still have the greater height and if you had gotten too far out, I might not have been able to judge your position well enough to keep you from becoming a splatter on the forest floor. In all reality, you probably wouldn’t have gotten too far before I noticed and would have been fine, but I like to minimize what could go wrong.”

“What in the actual fuck?” Toby says.

"Was that English?" Steve asks.

He turns to go inside and sees Krel standing at the door, a dreamy look on his face.

“Why does Krel look like that?” Eli asks as he helps Steve to his feet.

“That is a look born of a mix of appreciation and adoration,” Douxie says, and Krel blushes, a human aspect born from his transduction that has bled into his Akiridion form, and an aspect that Douxie quite likes has bled over.

“Huh?” Toby asks, and Eli gives him an equally confused look. Steve just goes to Aja.

“I know basic physics concepts and whatnot, but I can only rattle off things to that specificity because of Krel and some extra work on my own time. Me rattling all of that off is proof that I have been actively listening and working to understand even if I am not quite the savant that he is, and there’s nothing more attractive than a partner who actively listens and does their utmost to understand the topics nearest and dearest to your heart, or in his case, core. I’m still absolute shit at the more advanced stuff, and that's not even including all the Akiridion physics and whatnot, I predate Newtonian physics by centuries after all, but I’ve been working at improving and I've gotten pretty good with the fundamentals.”

"Guys, let's get down to Mother before the bounty hunter comes looking for us!" Aja calls out from inside.

When they get down to command central, Eli and Toby immediately go running in and start examining everything like kids in a candy shop, shouting about how cool everything is.

“Is it cool? I mean, I guess I’m just used to it. You know, been here a million times now,” Steve says nonchalantly.

“Really now, Steve?” Douxie says, quirking an eyebrow, and stifling a laugh as the teen almost falls off the platform, screeching and squawking. He magically grabs the back of Steve’s shirt and sets him back on his feet, to which Steve just gives a nervous laugh. Douxie and Krel exchange an exasperated look and Aja just huffs fondly.

“Steve, how could you not tell me?” Eli asks as Toby starts to mess with the console.

“Uh, Toby, I wouldn’t mess with that!” Douxie calls, jogging up to the console and pulling Toby’s hands away from almost pressing the self-destruct button.

“I just told you!” Steve says.

“But what about our Creepslayerz Oath?” Eli asks.

“What Creepslayerz Oath? What are you talking about?” Steve asks.

“Exactly! We were supposed to write one!” Eli says, jumping into one of the chairs.

Krel cuts into the Creepslayerz conversation, joining Douxie and Toby up by the console, shooing the latter away. “Can we return to this subject later? We have a bounty hunter to deal with.”

Toby retreats and takes the other chair. Aja and Steve come up from behind.

“I can manually access Mother’s database here,” Krel says, hands and fingers flying, “Just takes a couple sektons to unlock.”

“Log,” Mother’s robotic voice rings out, “Pulling up Commander Vex’s logs.”

“No, not ‘logs’!” Krel says, and Douxie can already tell how this is going to go.

“Delson one, Commander Vex reporting. Or should Varvatos say “Nanny Vex”?”

“Mother, get him off the screen!”

“Next screen.”

“No!”

“Delson 17. Varvatos met Nancy Domzalski –”

“My Nana?”

“She captured my rook, my queen, and my core. She is, how the hoomans would say, ‘hot’.”

“Hot? Ew! No, no, no! She’s not hot, she’s Nana!” Toby cries out, scrabbling to change the video.

It changes to just a video of Varvatos practicing his fighting, going through forms and techniques.

“Oh man, he’s a really good fighter! Who is he?” Eli asks.

Douxie can practically feel the rage and the hurt radiating off of Krel. He places a hand on Krel’s shoulder, testing out whether or not the Akiridion will accept the physical comfort. Krel crosses both sets of arms, tensing up, but he leans into Douxie, and Douxie quickly slides the hand along his shoulder to bring Krel under his arm in a secure side-hug.

“Nobody,” Krel grumbles. It’s angry and stubborn, but Douxie can hear the slightest quiver in his voice, and Douxie’s heart breaks.

Something needs to be done about this.

“It’s a long story,” he hears Aja say from behind him, before following with, “Mother, any information on a bounty hunter with a giant hammer-thing?”

“Searching, searching, searching, searching …”

“She’s still rebooting,” Krel says, bringing up a hand to his forehead, exasperated.

“She did go through quite the ordeal two weeks ago, and from what I’ve seen, she’s a very complex computer. We just have to work with her as she reboots,” Douxie says, trying to assuage Krel’s frustration.

“Your order for red boots has been shipped and will arrive in two to five business delsons.”

“No!” Krel yells, and Douxie sighs.

“Bounty hunter identified. Magma-Tron hails from the planet Cindor. Cindorites are an almost indestructible, violent race of mechanized beings known for their wanton disregard for life. They are prone to quips, ruthless cruelty, and what humans refer to as “trash talking”.”

“Mother,” Aja says from beside Douxie, which he doesn’t flinch at at all, “Any information on how to defeat this guy?”

“Searching my database. The only known weakness is … wa- … wa- … wa- … System rebooting.”

Both the siblings groan and Aja sighs, “This is going to take forever!”

“Not necessarily,” Douxie says as someone’s phone chimes.

“What do you mean by that?” Aja asks.

“One of the alien traps went off! It caught something in the sewers!” Eli exclaims, cutting off that line of questioning.

“It could be Magma-Tron!” Krel says as they turn to look at Eli, who’s showing them the location on his phone. “Wait, were you trying to trap us?”

Something inside Douxie growls lowly at that, which he carefully contains and chalks up to his familiar-ship with Archie.

“Yeah, but only because someone never told me you were cool.”

“You shouldn’t have needed someone to tell you. Why would you assume every extraterrestrial was bad when you had already seen there are good and bad trolls?” Douxie asks, “There are no species or societies that are 100% good or 100% bad. Caution can be good when approaching something or someone you know nothing about, but you can’t just go around assuming the worse of everyone and everything! That’s incredibly insulting for one, and also liable to get you on the wrong side of the wrong people very quickly.”

Eli looks properly chastised, and Krel grabs Douxie’s hand and gives it an appreciative squeeze.

Steve grabs the phone and tosses it to Aja.

“We must stop Magma-Tron before he hurts someone,” she says.

“Or us,” Krel adds.

“Still happy Vex is gone?” Aja snaps, and Krel flinches back at that.

“Aja, you know as well as I do that was uncalled for. Krel is having just as hard of a time with Varvatos being gone as you are,” Douxie cuts in.

“And what do you know about loss!?” she practically bites, and Douxie can’t keep himself from lashing out, Aja digging at just the wrong wound. But he does manage to school it in enough to keep his voice calm and demeanor cool.

“I am a 919-year-old wizard who has seen empires and countries rise and fall, has fought in some of the bloodiest wars in history, and has seen the very worst of humanity. I lost my pseudo-sister when she turned on myself and my master and our kingdom, and then she took from me my master, who was basically my father, and then I lost my home within 24 hours of losing my father figure, much like yourself mind you. I have made and lost more friends, acquaintances, and family than you could possibly imagine. Forgive me if I might think I know a thing or two about loss.”

Everyone in the room is dead silent, staring at Douxie in shock, and Krel has tightened his grip on Douxie’s hand.

“Well, then, “Douxie says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “We should go after Magma-Tron. Toby, go get your armor, I’ll go put on some actual clothes, everyone one meet back up in the town square. From there, Eli can lead the way.”

Half an hour later, they find themselves navigating through the sewers, most of that time having been taken up by Archie lecturing Douxie.

Finally, Eli stops them.

“The trap is just around this corner,” he whispers.

“We’ll take it from here,” Aja says. She and Krel take out their serrator-blades, and Toby pulls out his hammer. Douxie readies a spell. Archie gets ready to hold back Steve and Eli, as Douxie doesn’t trust them not to get in the way.

They jump out and –

“Zadra?” Krel says, “What are you doing here?”

And Zadra it most certainly is. She’s tangled in a net, reaching for … a Nougat Nummy.

Douxie rolls his eyes.

“None of my battlefield training prepared me for the temptations of these delicious confections.”

“Yeah! The Nougat Nummies worked!” Eli cheers.

“I ordered you not to leave the ship for your own protection!” she says, sliding right into the scolding.

“And considering how much longer you have spent with Aja and Krel than me, you should have known there was no way you were keeping them contained to the ship,” Douxie says.

“He has a point,” Krel says, stifling a giggle.

“Is there some cheat sheet we could get? Like, how do we tell who’s a good alien or a bad alien?” Toby asks.

“How do you tell who’s a good troll or a bad troll? A good human or a bad human?” Douxie shoots back.

Then there’s a clank and a recognizable double-ended hammer comes spinning down the sewer line. They barely manage to duck before it returns to its owner, boomerang style.

“Give up your cores, Tarrons, before I rip them from your bodies!”

“A Cindorite?” Zadra gasps, “My Royals, run!”

“With Varvatos Vex off-planet, no one can save you now!”

“Off-planet?” Aja gasps, “You know where Varvatos is! Where is he?”

“Not here to protect you.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I am then, huh?” Douxie says, stepping forward in front of the armed siblings.

“Douxie, what are you doing?” Krel asks.

“And who are you?”

“Someone who likes Krel’s and Aja’s cores exactly where they are,” Douxie says, “And would prefer them to stay there.”

“Hahaha! Say goodbye to your teeth!”

Magma-Tron first goes to throw it, but Douxie says something before he can.

“Really, you’re just going to throw it? I would’ve thought you had more bravery than a feeble larvox! But you’re no better than a soolian.”

“Douxie!” Aja gasps.

“Douxie, don’t goad him!” Krel cries out.

But that’s exactly what he wanted to do.

He doesn’t know what ‘soolian’ means exactly, nor does he know exactly what a larvox is, but what he does know is that what he just said is insulting, and if he’s reading Magma-Tron right, then that ought to be enough.

“How dare you!”

Magma-Tron runs forward, hauling his hammer up as if to come down on Douxie’s head.

Perfect.

Because, really, Magma-Tron? From the planet Cindor? That’s just too easy. And with Mother confirming its weakness begins with ‘wa’, all Douxie needs is a good supply of it (conjuring it is a royal bitch).

“Causa crepitus!”

The bolts on the pipeline above him unscrew, and water comes gushing out straight onto its head.

Magma-Tron screeches in pain and starts to power down.

“Wait, don’t kill him! He knows where Varvatos is!” Aja calls out.

“Glacio!”

The stream of water freezes, holding the short-circuiting Magma-Tron in place.

“If you want your information, now’s the time to get it before he fully boots back up.”

Aja doesn’t need another word, running past Douxie and brandishing her blade. As she does this, Krel comes up and cuts Zadra down.

“Where is Varvatos!?”

“He’s on Earth’s moon, rotting away in some prison cell.”

“Varvatos was captured?” Aja asks.

“He didn’t leave us. He was taken,” Krel says, careful hope edging into his voice though Douxie can hear the effort to keep that at bay.

“By whom?” Aja asks.

“Zeron Alpha. Commander Vex is heading home to Akiridion 5 for his execution.”

“Execution?” Krel says as Aja gasps in horror.

“You’ll be reunited with Varvatos in death!”

At that moment, the ice cracks and shatters, and Magma-Tron breaks free.

Only for Douxie to immediately let go of the freezing spell, allowing the water to flow freely once more, the direct stream pouring onto his head, rendering him immobile and short-circuiting once again.

“So, do we just have to wait for the water to kill him?” Douxie asks.

“It should have weakened him enough for our attacks to kill him,” Zadra says.

Aja and Krel both spring forward at that, their serrator blades now cleanly slicing through Magma-Tron, creating an ‘X’ through him momentarily, before he starts to dissolve into lava.

“That was awesome sauce!” Toby cheers.

“Yep! That’s my girlfriend,” Steve gloats and then turns to Eli, “And you are my friend, Pepperjack.”

“Yes!”

“Creep-”

“Slayerz! Best friends? Bros?”

“Yeah, okay, Pepperjack. Bros. But you’re still a buttsnack.”

Douxie snorts.

“What?” Krel asks quietly, coming over to walk in pace with Douxie back to the main group.

“Just those two. How long do you think it’ll take them to realize?”

“Considering they haven’t already? I think it’ll take someone else telling them at this rate.”

“Aja?”

“It’d probably be best coming from Aja, but I am uncertain whether she’ll catch on or not. I might have to nudge her, which I do not want to do.”

“Because Steve’s her boyfriend?”

“No, it’s not that. Unlike here, it is not socially frowned upon on Akiridion 5 for romantic relationships to consist of more than two people, or for one person to have relationships with two or more people who are not in a mutual relationship, as long as everything is consensual and understood by all involved. It complicates things, though a lot of that complication has been removed since Aja is going by human dating customs rather than Akiridion dating customs. I just don’t want to nudge her because if I meddle in her dating life, she will meddle in mine.”

"Yeah, that sounds like Aja."

Once the group is fully gathered, Krel clears his throat and addresses Zadra, “Sorry we snuck out. And were nearly killed. Again. You were right.”

“You were right as well,” Zadra says, “If you hadn’t left the ship, I might have been killed. And I see now there aren’t just enemies out there. These humans can be our allies, our friends. And more.”

She then turns to Douxie and places a hand on his shoulder.

“I have not been kind to you over the past two wardons, despite the cordiality and respect you showed. Tonight, you have proven yourself a trustworthy and formidable ally. Though do not think this means I will not watch you closely. Just because I can trust you to fight with and for us does not mean I am not still wary of you as Krel's King-in-Waiting Consort-Apparent.”

“Zadra!” Krel hisses.

“Noted,” Douxie says.

“So does that mean you trust me?” Steve asks hopefully.

“You are just a suitor.”

“Zadra!” Aja says, offended.

“What’s the difference?” Steve asks.

“A Consort is the lower-ranking spouse of a monarch, and a suitor is a generic term for someone you are dating, someone you could potentially marry,” Eli says.

“On Akiridion 5, there is actually a greater difference in the terms. I am uncertain of how human royal hierarchical structures work, but on Akiridion 5 there is a very particular structure that has titles attached, including between royals and their life-partners. We have our Kings, Queens, and Monarchs, and the masculine, feminine, and neutral terms of the various positions below them in the royal hierarchy. If their life-partner is a royal, they are also a King/Queen/Monarch. If their life-partner is nonroyal, then they are titled King/Queen/Monarch Consort. Prior to the official ceremony binding them as life-partners, while they are still in the courting stage, the royal potential life-partner would be King/Queen/Monarch-Apparent. The nonroyal potential life-partner would be King/Queen/Monarch Consort-Apparent. These titles carry down the royal hierarchy, the only part that changes being the initial title which indicates rank and gender.

“Douxie here currently holds the position of King-in-Waiting Consort-Apparent as he is in the midst of courtship with the King-in-Waiting, though I am keeping my eye on him, as I just stated. Should he and Krel eventually become official life-partners, he would become King-in-Waiting Consort. His initial rank title would change to just King upon Krel's full ascension to the throne, whether that be before the ceremony, making him King Consort-Apparent, or after the ceremony, making him King Consort. Right now Douxie could also be considered Prince Consort-Apparent since 'King-in-Waiting' is technically a symbolic title. Krel still holds the official, legal position of Prince, he simply now has the official approval for ascension, whenever that may come to pass," Zadra explains.

Douxie had known all of this, Krel had explained it when they got together after the world didn't end to explain things – Krel had wanted to make things clear for Douxie when discussing their relationship since he did not have to hide his Akiridion identity – but it's still weird for him to think about. He's always basically been a peasant, middle-class at best, and the closest he ever got to royalty was when Merlin took him in and he technically became part of Arthur's court. But even then, he was just a lowly apprentice, not the kind of person true royalty would ever spare a glance to, he only got what he did because of Merlin. But now, since he's dating Krel, he actually holds the title Prince Consort-Apparent, and, should everything go as he hopes it will, eventually he'll be King Consort. Which is just plain weird. Him, Hisirdoux Casperan, King Consort? It's almost laughable, how ridiculous the thought is, but it's true, and he can't quite parse through the odd mix of emotions he's experiencing.

“The term I used for Steve, suiter, is a term used not just for royals but in the general public as well," Zadra continues, "A suiter is what someone is called during the courting phase when there is still question as to their seriousness and/or their worthiness."

Toby bursts out laughing, and Eli makes an offended sound on Steve’s behalf.

“What! I’m serious!” Steve says.

“And he’s worthy! Steve is my Prince Consort-Apparent!” Aja insists.

While they take care of … that, Douxie and Krel turn back to the mess, Archie swooping over the mess to inspect.

“Well, you guys certainly did a number on this thing,” Archie says.

“But his weapon remains,” Krel says, going over to it and looking it over. “It is pretty nice. Has a lightweight thruster on each end. If we separate the ends, then … I think I could put this to good use.”

He looks to Douxie, an idea sparkling in his eyes.

By using the thrusters, Stewart’s truck, and an illusion spell, they manage to get the house back into place by noon, not having to worry about prying eyes.

And two days later, after working his shift, he gets another text from Krel.

I really hope it’s not another bounty hunter.

Krel❤️: Got Mother fully rebooted. Stuart retrieved his ship from 49-B. Going to the moon for a prisonbreak. See you in 2-3 delsons, hopefully with Varvatos. Don’t tell Zadra.

Um, what?

#krexie #krexieweek #hisirdoux casperan #krel tarron

26 notes · View notes

uwuwriting · 3 years

Text

Incompatible ships w/ Todoroki, Kirishima, Bakugou and Midoiya

Request: hii! i love ur posts so i thought why not request ajbakaha,, can i ask for todoroki, kirishima, bakugou, izuku getting jealous bc their s/o is getting shipped with another student :D (it can be their relationship is still a secret or smth) btw i love your posts!! it's free serotonin!! 😽😽- anonymous

Secret relationships are my favorite trope. This and friends to lovers. I live for these types of fics. Random fact, my allergies are acting up bc I helped take down the Christmas decorations and now my hands are on fire. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: fluff, minor suggestive themes not something major though

Todoroki Shouto

-Things like jealousy are a rare occurrence in your relationship.

-Todoroki is the type of boyfriend who trusts you blindly and would put his own life in your hands without a single hesitation.

-Sometimes it bothers him how other people effortlessly flirt with you but he knows that nothing will come out of it no matter how much they chat you up.

-He knows you can handle yourself and get out of a situation if things start getting out of hand.

-And if you can’t, he will butt in glaring down at the person who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

-Everyone around you seem to believe that the two of you are really close friends; none of them have caught a whiff of your relationship and you are proud of yourselves.

-I mean it is pretty hard keeping so many romantic milestones hidden from your friends.

-But alas you both knew that keeping all of this to yourselves would be for the best.

-Now, we all know that the girls of your class drool over any remotely romantic interaction you have.

-Same goes for everyone actually.

-Oh Kirishima held the door open for you the other day?? I can see a new ship sailing.

-Sero helped you pick up your stuff when you bumped into a wall? Your knight in shining armor.

-Really any sort of kind gesture was interpreted as romantic interest at this point.

-The worst part of it all was the ship they had created and have been simping over for the past three months.

-You had managed to create an unexpected friendship with Monoma from class 3-B.

-The agency he interns in is right next to yours so you take the same train and then walk to almost the same building every single day.

-You see him during patrol, the pro heroes you work under have paired up once or twice so a friendship was inevitable.

-So imagine the surprise on your classmate’s faces when Monoma began waiting for you outside the 3-A dorm building.

-Mina wouldn’t shut up about how cute you two were together and what a perfect match you made.

-Soon enough the other idiots joined the party and you were drowned in ‘awwww’s and ‘love story in the making’s.

-You got tired of explaining that he was just a friend, that you weren’t interested in him.

-The fact that you could feel Todoroki’s gaze burn through your back didn’t help at all.

-Your boyfriend had asked you about Monoma because he too found it weird how he waited for you everyday.

-The boy’s presence didn’t bother him at first.

-He was lowkey grateful that you finally had company on your way to the agency considering he couldn’t walk with you since his building was in the opposite direction.

-It started becoming a problem when all he could hear during the breaks was the stupid ship name the girls had created.

-He could see how visibly uncomfortable it made you and how you would seek for his gaze during those moments.

-Then they started talking about how cute your kids would be and that’s when Shoto had enough.

-It’s one thing hearing about how cute your girlfriend would be with someone else and it’s completely different when you hear about their potential offspring.

-Grabbing your wrist he basically dragged you out the classroom and into an empty hallway, pinning you to the nearest wall before connecting his lips with yours.

-You let a surprised gasp which gave him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth and deepen the kiss, making you grasp onto his shirt as your knees gave out.

-After what felt like an eternity he let you go for air before attacking your jaw, neck and collarbones.

-Soon those soft kisses turned into little love bites.

- “Sho you’re gonna leave a mark.”

-Releasing your skin from between his teeth, he admired the reddish hickey he had left at the base of your neck.

-He was sure your shirt’s collar could cover it up just barely.

- “That’s the point, love.”

-Intertwining your fingers, he led you back to class, going to his seat with a proud smirk on his lips leaving a very flustered puffy-lips-messy-haired you in his wake.

Kirishima Eijiro

-Kiribaby is not the jealous type.

-Like only if you give your undivided attention to a puppy and you smother it with all your love and affection then maybe, just maybe, he will pout a bit and ask for his own fair share of love.

-He trusts you just like Todoroki does.

-Nothing has ever happened to suggest that he should worry about others stealing you from him so he doesn’t worry.

-Plus you are always together no matter what.

-Almost everyone from your class knows that you are together so the shipping doesn’t start from them.

-Oh no.

-It starts from class 3-B who has seen you talk to Tetsutetsu quite a bit this past few weeks.

-You might wait for him outside their classroom during lunch breaks.

-They have caught you hanging out outside of the school grounds.

-So the only logical explanation they can come up with is that you two are either A) dating or B) have a thing for each other and are getting there.

-Soon enough rumors start circulating.

- “Did you know that someone from the hero course is dating that metal guy from class 3-B?”

- “Yeah yeah I heard it’s that girl Y/N. They do look really cute together, not gonna lie.”

-Eventually these rumors reach Kiri’s ears and they kinda get to him.

-He knows that you haven’t been hanging out extra with Tetsutetsu since every time you guys go out he is always with you.

-You are the type of couple who does everything together, literally.

-Apart from being in different agencies ya’ll are holding hands almost 24/7.

-So he really doesn’t get what everyone is talking about.

-Mineta doesn’t help.

-He really doesn’t.

-He starts making scenarios about what you do while Kirishima is out of the dorms; how you have wrapped both homies around your finger and toying with them.

-Oh the very vivid scenes he creates with all three of you in a…. compromising position.

-Kirishima hates that most of all.

-The words coming out of Mineta’s mouth disgust him to no end and soon enough he is walking to your dorm ready to talk this through.

-Opening the door you greet your boyfriend with a smile and a quick peck but you immediately know what is on his mind.

- “Baby what are we gonna do?”

-You basically whine at the question.

-He spends the whole night at your dorm brainstorming ideas until you both pass out on your floor.

-And your solution to the problem?

-Ignore the whole thing and continue on with your lives.

-He suggested maybe leaving a mark somewhere *like our boy Sho* but you shot him down saying that they would just think Tetsutetsu did it.

-After Monoma catches you in your classroom making out on your desk though the rumors soon die out.

Bakugou Katsuki

-Crazy boom boom boy.

-Your relationship is a secret because he doesn’t want to deal with all the other idiots gushing over your relationship and getting all up in your business.

-Your relationship is a sacred thing he has sworn to protect and he won’t let Mineta’s ugly ass hands get anywhere near it.

-Gonna taint it even with his thoughts.

-Guard dog Bakugou bark bark.

-It’s fairly easy to maintain a secret relationship with him.

-Sure he might be a tiny bit calmer with you and maybe just maybe his eyes linger on you during training but yeah he treats you just like he treats all the other extras he is surrounded by.

-Now, Bakugou is kinda *read a lot* jealous in general.

-He doesn’t like when people he doesn’t fully trust or like, talk to you or are close to you.

-He has butted in on your conversations with Todoroki one too many times and the poor crispy baby is so confused like why are you like this?

-I just want the chemistry notes please let me get them in peace for once.

-You have chastised him about that manier times but your resolve melts when he pouts *YES HE POUTS AT YOU RWIHPWIE* before wrapping his strong arms around you.

- “I just don’t wanna lose you, dumbass.”

-You can barely make out his words as his face is buried in your stomach but you heard him and now you are tearing up at the pure emotion he is showing at these moments.

-At the end of the day though, he trusts you.

-He may not trust the other horny extras around you but he fully trusts you.

-There’s no doubt about that.

-You can imagine ,though, the instant rage he felt when he heard the girls talking about you and Deku.

- “They do make a great couple.”

- “Have you seen how they look at each other?”

- “Good for her, Deku is perfect boyfriend material.”

-First of all, how dare you, second hold the fuck up…..when did this become a WhoRe hOuSe?!?!?!?!

-Legit someone has to shake him out of his stupor after that one.

-You look at Deku in a certain way?

-Fucking DEKU?!?!?!

-THoughts are swirling in his mind almost pouring out of his ears when he hears the voice.

-That annoying ass voice that he has engraved in his brain since childhood.

-And the moment his eyes land upon Deku and you speaking, he sees red.

-He is pouncing on Deku in -5 seconds, the poor green haired boy completely unaware of what hit him, literally.

-They are on the floor wrestling on another, you screaming at Katsuki to stop and get his shit together while your boyfriend is spewing curse after curse at the OFA user simultaneously asking what the hell he was doing with HIS girlfriend.

-Aizawa had to break them up.

-They both got detention even though Deku did literally nothing.

-Katsuki was denied cuddles for a whole week and he was set on explaining duty now that the cat was out of the bag.

Midoriya Izuku

-Izuku is the best boyfriend anyone could ask for.

-He is loyal, shows emotions, is good at communicating with you, has incredible date ideas although he is kinda forgetful at times and his packed schedule doesn’t leave enough time to spend with you, at least not as much as he wants, but he always tries to make up for it in other ways.

-You love how much trust he puts in you.

-You couldn’t be more grateful.

-But Izuku has his insecurities.

-At times it becomes hard for him to understand why exactly you’ve chosen him to love when you could have anyone you wanted in this school.

-He can’t wrap his pretty little head around the reason why you stay with him when the only thing you get out of all this is others saying you deserve better than some crybaby.

-It has become his mission to prove to you that he isn’t what others say he is; he isn’t some crybaby, he is a hero in training who won’t hesitate to risk his life for you.

-You have reassured him multiple times that you don’t care what others say.

-You fell in love with him, him and all of his flaws.

-No one told you that you should fall for him and no you didn’t agree to date him out of pity.

-Most of the time you manage to erase those thoughts from his mind replacing them with the warm feeling of your love.

-But there comes a time when no matter what you say, the words of other people will get the best of him and it will be a struggle to build himself back up.

-He is thankful to have you by his side during those moments because then he truly feels weak, he feels helpless, he knows these things shouldn’t bother him.

-He loves you and you love him end of story, but they do get to him.

-One of the worst times he questioned if he was good enough was during your third year.

-Being in the support department you couldn’t be by his side 24/7 but you did always manage to see him during breaks to the point the whole class knew you and slowly became your friends.

-The thing is they thought you two were also friends; neither had ever mentioned your relationship and things felt so comfortable between you that they assumed that you were really close friends.

-Izuku had suggested keeping your relationship on the down low; him being in the hero course and having created rather the reputation, he was afraid that you would be dragged into something dangerous.

-Plus All Might advised you two to keep it a secret and All Might’s words are law.

-Izuku loved how well you got along with his friends, it meant that when he revealed your relationship they would all welcome you with open arms.

-What he didn’t expect though was for them to start shipping you with someone else.

-For some weird reason the girls of his class started obsessing over your interactions with Bakugou and soon after that they started trying to get you two alone in the same room, much to your dismay.

-In reality, Bakugou was the only person who knew about your relationship.

-He had ran into you as you were leaving Izuku’s dorm room, catching you two kiss goodnight.

-Bakugou, as much as he disliked Izuku, would never get in the way of your relationship and he hated this ship shit as much maybe even more than you did.

-Izuku was ready to crawl into a whole and die.

-You had to stay in his room for almost a whole month to calm him down completely, him flying you to your own building in the morning so you don’t get in trouble.

-It was a difficult time aand his classmate’s comments didn’t help one bit.

-The tipping point was when he overheard Mina devising a plan of setting you guys up.

-He walked down to the common room the next day with you next to him, hands intertwined, a hickey barely visible under the hem of HIS shirt, shocking everyone in the vicinity.

-A new ship was created *after they harassed you for answers*

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