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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

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🕯Anon said: hi sweetheart 🕊 can you write about armin having a quiet night with the reader? something like wearing comfy pajamas, fairy lights, cute little candles, incense, soft songs and maybe some reading? and they just cuddling? 🥺 i think about that whenever i go to sleep and do all of the above, but i'm just by myself lmao anyways, thank you so much 🌸 (btw i'm the anon who asked you about the armin x painter!reader 🥺 hello 🥺 i just love how you write can we be friends please) 🕯

Quiet night with Armin

{ Armin x Reader | tw:none | sleep help, comfort, fluff | modern }

{ "Twilight, Valley of the Genesee" 1865 by Samuel Colman 1832 - 1920 }

Shimmering golden hues weaved across pastel blue walls in the form of strings, crossing the bookshelf before making a turn at the plants corner, illuminating the room with a soft warm glow.

Your head rested against the satin pillow, just right above Armin's shoulder, close enough that you can see the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. The ends of his hair ghosting over your cheek whenever he leaned to tell a particular clever line of the book he's been reading to you.

You can't exactly remember the name of it, but you can clearly recall his excited smile this morning when showing it to you.

"It's one of my favourites" he said, "the last time i got to reread it was in high-school, has it really been that long?" And that's all you can remember from the conversation before it got sidetracked by him asking if you had lunch yet.

There's definitely something to be said about rereading a book over and over again, a sense of familiarity, an attachment to the characters, plot and world setting. It's almost magic how quickly your comfort book, show or movie can turn a horrible day into a nice one, making it the silver lining.

Looking at the way Armin would pause for a second after some lines, or chuckle at random scenes, like it's an inside joke between him and his mind, you can tell he's definitely recalling some good memories.

Just like how he's adding to his list of comfort memories by sharing this experience with you, he wants you to be a part of this silly book he once picked up as a child and continued to revisit every few years.

You glance at the remaining pages, just as he flips another one to start anew. You've already finished a third of the book, only a quarter remaining.

It's not that you're getting impatient, but it's more that the soft blanket draped over you, the warmth of Armin's body pressed next to yours and the sound of his voice, are all luring you into a hazy cloudy state where your eyelids feel too heavy and turning your head to check the clock seems too exhausting.

How long has it been? since you curled up against him right after you went to put your empty hot chocolate mugs in the sink.

You don't have the heart to tell him that your brain stopped registering the words he's saying and instead listens to the tone of his soft-spoken voice and reacts accordingly. Stealing another glance at the remaining pages, you notice a few missing, okay good, just a few more. You can hold on right?

Right?

Forcing your eyes open, you suppress a yawn threatening to rise before curling even closer to his shoulder, face against his neck, hand over his chest.

Instead of focusing on his calming heartbeat, you try to focus your attention on different things, like the smell of snowdrops flowers filling the room from the scented incense sitting on the nightstand.

Snowdrops, the milky bell-like flowers who befriended the cold harsh snow herself.

An ancient German tale that Armin told you, on one early spring morning. When the universe was just in bloom, as the earth shaped its form and the plants dressed themselves, when the god in the heavens above just created snow, she was told to go seek her colours from the flowers below.

She came with her request, but the flowers turned their heads, refusing to acknowledge her for she is the reason for the harsh weather, deeming their life spans short, overzealous and jealous, protecting their colours from the merciless lady snow.

She was left all alone, friendliness, colourless with no love or sympathy from a soul.

Except for one, came knocking on her door, head bowed down and humbly offered to share. Snowdrops were the flowers that warmed the snow's heart, and so white was the colour in which snow was known.

Snow made a vow, to always protect her one and only friend, even from her own self. Under her watchful gaze, snowdrops were gifted with warmth that let them be the first flowers to bloom when winter bid her goodbyes as spring was arriving soon.

You've never seen snowdrops the same since, their delicate and shy nature standing out between all the proud flowers, you even suggested planting some to Armin.

"...but sweetheart" you remember him saying with a frown, " snowdrops are poisonous."

…

Yeah, and so getting their scented incense was the second best option available.

You hear the sound of another page being turned, fewer left to go, just hold on a bit longer.

Wondering the room with your eyes, your gaze fell on the straw sunhat hanging from the on the back of a chair. It's Armin's favourite, he'd always wear it when the sun was particularly bright that day.

you remember him saying it was a gift from his grandpa when he was a child.

His grandpa...didn't you visit his farm a few months ago?

...yeah you did, you can recall clearly, how you were:

Squinting your eyes to avoid the bright sun, you wiped the sweat collecting on your forehead before leaning your head back against the wooden wall. The occasional passing cool breeze distracting you from the dryness in your throat, even after moving to sit in the shade your skin still felt too hot.

The grassy fields in front stretched wide before ending in white pained fences, where the crops patches for vegetables started.

The sudden gentle waves of cool air against your skin made you glance to the side, where Armin was fanning you with his hat, while holding a tray with two ice filled lemonades in his other hand.

"Are you sure you don't want to go inside?" He said, sitting next to you before handing you the cold drink, "you've already done a lot, I'll do take care of the rest."

You've been helping Armin with the farm work since sunrise, feeding the animals together and watering the crops, saying you're exhausted from the scorching hot sun was an underestimation.

And yet, somehow Armin seems unaffected. Not a sign of being bothered as he sat there next to you with his rolled up sleeves and cuffed pants, the slight flushing to his face was the only thing he got from the sun.

"Yeah, I need to lay down a bit." You remember saying, after emptying your drink in one go.

"If that's the case then-" setting the tray aside, Armin patted his lap while looking at you, "Come here."

Too tired to protest, you layed your head on his thigh, feeling your back stretching and the cool air from his fanning was already making you feel better.

"You know, there's a story my grandpa used to tell me about the sun."

An Australian folklore, about a time when the earth was merged in absolute Darkness, when even the stars refused to light up the sky.

Eternal darkness was the fate of humanity, as people were spent their lives carrying torches to light up their way.

Gnowee was an alone mother in a forsaken world, left to fend for her little son. Each day while he slept safely, she'd venture into the the fields in search for plants or seeds. Knowing very well that's it's a matter of life and death if she couldn't come back with something edible.

Each day she'd come with whatever she could find, feeding it to her son even if it meant sleeping on an empty stomach.

But with food scarce and the abyss looming at every corner, things were harder each day.

One day after rocking her child to sleep, she quietly left with her torch to dig for yams she saw on her way last time. Retracting her footsteps, it was a long journey but she knew it'd be worth it.

And so she walked and walked till she reached the place, began digging the ground but dirt and mud was all that she could find. But she couldn't just go back to her son empty handed, and so she wandered far.

She wandered so far in fact that she reached the end, not the end of her journey but the end of the earth itself.

Somehow, in someway she managed to pass from under it, her will for her son to live another day far greater that anything, and so she emerged from the other side.

The void.

Where nothingness lived.

Looking at the vast empty space, she didn't know where she was, the line between the ground and walls was so blurred that she thought she's floating.

Panic and dread filled her mind as she raised her torch higher and higher, attempting to clear a path for her to see. For she had to go back to her son, all alone sleeping by himself.

Climbing the sky was her only solution, as she wondered the world, unknowingly lighting up a path with her as she went.

"And so the Sun Goddess wonders the sky above, in search for her son." Armin told you that day, before offering you his own lemonade to drink because he was still worried about you.

...

You can't recall how that day ended, you think you might have fell asleep on his lap right after.

The fairylights on the wall reminded you of the clear stars sky you've seen while on the farm, his grandfather was a really sweet guy too.

With your mind still coulded in drowsiness, your hearing was also delayed apparently, since you just noticed the book in Armin's hold was closed with him staring at you with a smile instead.

Moving so he could set the book on the nightstand, Armin turned towards you before pulling you closer to him, making sure the covers don't slip off of you. He cupped your face, stroking your cheek with love in his eyes.

"I'm sorry baby, did I take too long?" He said, glancing at the clock behind you answered his question.

You shook your head, murmuring a slurred "it's alright."

Posture visibly relaxing, he gave your cheek a small kiss before resting too on the pillow next to you, a yawn escaping him.

With half closed eyes, you saw him cuddling close to your chest, features softening as he bid you goodnight. Your hand moved to stroke his hair just like he always liked, lacing your fingers through the soft strands you closed your eyes too.

Warmth took over you, the feeling of his soft breath near your neck, the comfortable weight of his arms around you, the slow ticking of the clock, it all rocked you to sleep as you happily gave in.

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ecto-american · 3 years

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The Other Side

Phic Phight Oneshot for Kiinotasha and KC: (AU) Born a halfa and raised in the Ghost Zone by his mother, Danny struggles with his human identity when a permanent man made portal appears in the Ghost Zone.

On AO3 and FFN

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Danny never questioned his life until that man made portal spawned. He never forgot when he first saw it six years ago while playing with Youngblood.

Naturally, they were playing aliens and spacemen, Danny's favorite. Earlier in the play session, they had found it, and it was deemed part of their spaceship. It was just a metal outline, an octagon. Thick enough that they could sit, and they pretended that the limited space was the entrance. Obviously on the left side was space, and the right side was their ship. Eventually their moms called them home, and during dinner when asked about his day, he told his mom about it.

She frowned, and she asked him for more details. Having played on it all day, he described it perfectly. His mom paled, and she forbid him from going there again, but she didn't expand on why.

He saw no reason to be afraid. It was just a metal shape. There were far more dangerous places in the Ghost Zone. So the next day, he told Youngblood about his mom's weird reaction. His mom had reacted the same, but didn't say why. His dad explained that it was dangerous, but not what about it was dangerous. Danny didn't have a dad, but he was sure that if he did, he probably would have said the same thing. But neither child could get it. What was dangerous about a shape?

So they just played with it again the next day, and they lied to their moms about what they did.

Two years later, another ghost had join to make them a trio. Her name was Box Lunch, and she was honestly a lot of fun. But she was still a girl, and they didn't tell her about their secret fun location until they were sure she didn't have cooties. When they showed her, she instantly knew what it was.

"That's a ghost portal!" she exclaimed. Youngblood and Danny thought she was stupid. Ghost portals didn't stay anywhere permanently. They opened and closed at random, when the human world and Ghost Zone would temporarily merge and allow for a rip to tear. But it always mended back together quickly.

"No it's not," Youngblood scowled. Box Lunch made a face at him.

"Yeah-huh!" she insisted. "My mommy and daddy get into the human world all the time! She said some people there have been trying to make a permanent portal to here!"

"Nu-uh!" Youngblood argued. "My dad said that humans wouldn't do that, they're more afraid of us than we are of them!"

"Yeah-huh!" Box Lunch said more forcefully. "My parents were human once, they said that people constantly wanna hunt us in the human world! And that they're coming here!"

"If they're afraid of us, then why come here?" Youngblood challenged.

"What else would it be?" Box Lunch asked, crossing her arms.

"It's a weirdo ghost's lair!"

And as they bickered back and forth, Danny had remained quiet. He didn't know how to feel about any of this. His friends often forgot that Danny wasn't just a ghost. He was also human.

Not that he was a ghost who was once human, that died. He was both, and he always had been. Born that way, according to his mom, because his dad was human. Danny didn't know too much about him, and he never really thought to ask.

He knew that his name was Jack, and how he looked like. His mom had hung a photo of him in his room so that he'd know; blue eyes, black hair, with a square jaw and in a distinctive orange jumpsuit. The orange suit always reminded him of the blue one his mom wore underneath a lab coat. She said he looked just like his dad when he was in his human form, and he could absolutely see it. Though as a ghost he had white hair that he seemingly inherited from nobody, with his mom's light blue skin and yellow-green eyes. As a ghost, he matched with a black jumpsuit, though as a human, he preferred regular clothes.

Most ghosts had learned of Danny's true nature early on as the news slowly spread when he was born. They loved him and accepted him as one of them. He could go out into the Zone as a human, but it always felt weird. So he was always a ghost.

That night, as he got tucked in for bed, he decided to bring the metallic object up again.

"Box Lunch said that the big metal shape is a permanent ghost portal," he blurted out. His mom stared at him with wide yellow eyes, and so he knew that Box Lunch was actually right. "Is it?"

She sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"I believe so," she confirmed. Danny sat up.

"Is that why you don't want me going near it?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. Danny cocked his head curiously.

"But if I'm also human, wouldn't they be okay with me?" he wondered. His mom paused for a long, long time. "I'm also one of them."

"I don't know, honey," she admitted. He could tell that she did know. She kissed his forehead. "I'll talk to you about it when you're a little bit older, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise. Now good night, sweetie."

It was four more years before it really became relevant again. He had essentially forgotten about the unoperational portal as homeschooling, other friends, and general undead life had continued on for him and his mom.

Youngblood didn't age, since he was once human and died, and so as Danny got older, they hung out less. While Box Lunch, a born ghost, grew, he became distant from her too for unrelated reasons. Danny wasn't alone, however. For a while, he hung out with other ghosts who had died young before he met his best friend. He was a bit older than him when he had died, sixteen to his fourteen, but Johnny 13 (and his shadow) and him had almost instantly become friends and hung out nearly every day. Often his girlfriend joined them too. His mom also allowed him to keep a newly dead dog that had followed him home, that alternated from a puppy to a large hulking beast of a monster dog. Danny named him Cujo.

Ghost Writer provided lessons in the arts on Tuesdays and Thursdays for him and a few other younger ghosts, which did include Johnny and Kitty. On the other days, his mom homeschooled him in her passion: the sciences. His favorite memories were of him and his mother in her lab, doing home experiments and building a wide variety of things.

She indulged in whatever nonsense he wanted to build, which included but wasn't limited to: rock cannon, small spaceships, figuring out how they could grow potatoes on the moon like the man in the martian book did, using ecto energy to cook poptarts.

Often her friend, Technus, but better known to Danny as Uncle Nico, came by to do more of the tech-based stuff. Danny believed that Uncle Nico could do anything with technology. He was one of the ghosts that often went through the natural portals, and whenever he came back, he had something for Danny. Typically game consoles and games, but sometimes fun little useless knick knacks that Danny treasured deeply. He fixed those game consoles many times, and also showed him how to download and install cheats and mods to make them more fun.

And after a morning full of science or the arts, Danny would eat lunch then rush off to play with his friends, Cujo always on his heels.

Looking back, he never did much as a human. He had to resort to his human side to rest, or would default to it if he fell asleep. It felt weird being in human form amongst ghosts, and so he was just always a ghost. He never thought much about it, and nobody ever asked him to be a human around them. It was just how things were.

On the day he'd never forget, it was just him and Johnny. His girlfriend had opted not to come. Danny couldn't remember the original topic, but it made him remember the portal. As soon as he told Johnny about it, the two idly scratching Cujo as the dog slept in between them in puppy form, the ghost's eyes lit up excitedly.

"Dude! We have to check it out!" Johnny insisted.

"I dunno," Danny hesitated. "My mom said that I should stay away."

"Come on, it'll be sick! I've always wanted to go back to the human world," Johnny begged. "And you've never even been there, despite being half-human!"

Danny paused. Well, when you put it like that...

"Okay!" he agreed. He floated up from his seat a bit so he could untangle his legs to stand. Cujo immediately got up from his spot laying near them, tail wagging excitedly. "Let's go! I think I still know where it is!"

It had changed since he last saw it. It now had huge yellow and black doors in place of the previous blank space, and it seemed somehow bigger than he remembered it years ago. But it was unmistakably the man made portal.

Even now, he didn't get what would be too scary about it that his mom would encourage him to stay far away. It was just a door.

"This is so fucking cool," Johnny whispered as he touched the door. "Imagine...no more trying to hunt down a portal. We can just come and go as we please...seeing our lost loved ones...seeing my mom again…It's been so long...I dunno if she'd even remember me..."

Danny didn't say anything, but he did begin to think and truly wonder for the first time what his dad was like. His mom never talked about him, and he never really asked. He and his mom were happy, and he also had Uncle Nico. Was his dad kind? Did he also like science? Why wasn't he here? Did his dad even know about him?

"Do you think we can open it?" Danny asked. Cujo licked his fingers, and Danny scratched his head. Johnny glanced over his shoulder at him.

"I dunno," he admitted. His hand turned into a fist and he knocked on the door. "It seems really solid. I don't think we can just break it or something."

"Hm. Lemme see," Danny mused. He came closer, and he put his hand on the door. It was cold, and Johnny was right; it was metallic, just like the outer edge he used to play on, and it would not break easily. His finger traced the middle line of the two doors. "Hm. Maybe we can pry the door open."

"The humans made this," Johnny spoke. Danny stared at him. No shit. "No, no, I mean. Maybe you should do something to it as a human." Danny thought on this, and he shrugged. Couldn't hurt.

His transformation rings came and went, leaving him in his human state. He was just in a t-shirt and jeans today, and he stayed floating near the portal.

His hand had barely touched the portal when it opened for him.

Danny gasped in shock, jerking his hand back as it opened. Johnny had also jumped, going backwards a bit, and Cujo's fur went up as he barked. It fully opened, and he couldn't see anything but the green ooze. This wasn't anything like Uncle Nico had mentioned natural portals being like. They normally acted like a window you could see through. But it was an unnatural portal made by man.

"Maybe this isn't such a-" Johnny began, but Danny had already stepped through.

There was a weird in between area that shined bright blue that he never heard Uncle Nico describe. But in this in between, he could see exactly what the ghost had mentioned. He knew he was still in the Zone, but he could look out the portal into the human world like a window.

A man in an orange jumpsuit, with black hair that was graying, was sitting in a room that reminded him very much of his mom's lab. He was staring at the portal in confusion, likely because it had randomly opened, and Danny instantly knew who it was. He had no idea if his dad could see him, but he found himself rushing backwards, and back into the Zone.

The second he returned, he became a ghost again, and he silently began to fly away as he tried to process. Johnny asked no questions, only following, Cujo following them both.

That night, at dinner, he finally asked.

"What was dad like?"

His mom stared at him for a moment.

"Well, he was very sweet," she said slowly. "Very bubbly personality. Always went out of his way to help his friends." She smiled softly as she talked about him. "Adored fudge."

"Did he like science?" Danny wondered. His mom gave a short laugh.

"Oh boy he adored it. Not the best at it, but he had a lot of enthusiasm," he replied. "We used to do experiments together all the time."

Danny stared down at his food as he thought. He looked up to her, and he could tell that she already knew what he was going to ask.

"How come I never met him?" he wondered. She sighed.

"...He doesn't like ghosts," she replied. "Aspiring ghost hunter when I met him, actually. I was alive then. Had the same ambitions." At his shocked look, she laughed again. "I know, ironic. We had dated for about two years officially. But then...I died. It was winter, and I was driving late at night during a snowstorm. My car slid off the road, and into a river. And I died from my injuries. I found that I could disguise myself as human, and I was in denial. So I just...continued on."

"...Why?" he asked. His mom shrugged in defeat.

"I guess I just didn't want to admit that it was over. I hadn't done everything I wanted to do yet. I was still in college, and I felt like my life had been forcibly finished before it had even truly started," she admitted. "Jack had proposed, but I had declined. I was too afraid to tell him. He began pursuing ghost hunting more seriously as a profession and building weapons and portals. I found out I was having you, and he was so excited to be a dad. I began getting scared. I didn't know how long I could continue the lie. I didn't know how it all would affect you. Then the police found my car and body, and I knew I couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer. So I left. I had no clue how to face him, or even how safe you might be if we talked. Especially after you were born, and I realized that you were half ghost."

The more she talked, she more somber she became. By the end, she was sniffling a little. Guilt began to wash over him.

"Have you ever talked to him again? Like after I was born?" he wondered. She shook her head no. "How come you've never taken me to the human world?"

"I had considered it. But it's too dangerous," she explained. "Humans aren't like ghosts. If they knew that you were also ghost...you wouldn't wanna find out what happens."

"...Do you regret any of it?" Do you regret me?

She smiled softly despite the conversation.

"You were the best thing to ever happen to me," she told him. "I may have been very anxious about being alone, and how you may turn out despite it all. But you were born healthy and perfect in every way. You're absolutely the light of my afterlife."

Danny smiled back, feeling some reassurance. His mom stood up, leaning over to peck his forehead before picking up her plate. He heard Cujo scramble out from under the table, ears up in excitement.

"I think I'll finish this later," she told him. "I'm not too hungry tonight." She glanced down at the dog. "This isn't for you."

Cujo whined, following her as she put her plate in the microwave. Danny nodded, sparing a small smile to Cujo and ushering for him to come over. He slipped him a piece of chicken as his mom left.

Later that night, Danny couldn't sleep. He was too busy sorting out his rushing thoughts. He was of course still him. Nothing really changed, but there was this new growing emptiness. Danny was still Danny, but there was a whole other side to him that knew nothing about. It began to eat at him more and more. Who was this human side besides just human Danny who lived in the Ghost Zone? He didn't know.

He now wished that his mom had taken him to the human world before so that he could know. She did say that there was a risk in the humans knowing he was also a ghost, which he didn't get. The ghosts accepted him as one of their own, so why wouldn't the humans? He didn't get humans at all. And he needed to know more about them. He was one of them.

By breakfast, his mind was made up.

After an unusually boring lesson with Ghost Writer together, Danny immediately went to Johnny once their small class of sorts were dismissed.

"I have to go back." Danny couldn't breath for a moment. "I have to see what it's like. Like you said, I'm also human, and I've never been there. All my unlife, I've been a ghost, here, in the Ghost Zone. My dad's in the human world. And I need to know what it's like to be human. What it means. So I can maybe meet him one day."

Johnny nodded.

"I think I get it," he said slowly. "I'll come with you. Keep you company. I think I could pass for human pretty well, even if I have to say that I have some kind of sickly disease that keeps me pale."

Danny grinned.

"Thanks," he replied. "Come on."

It took no time at all to find the portal. Danny stared up at it, his breath once more stolen as he tried to think of a reason why he shouldn't go through it.

Nothing came to mind.

"It's okay if you don't wanna," Johnny said. Danny shook his head no.

"I have to do this," he replied. "I need to do this."

Johnny patted his back, and that was all the subconscious encouragement Danny needed to turn human and press his hand to the door. Once more, it opened. The fact that he's even able to open it made him know that this was something he was meant to do. He once again stepped through with Johnny right behind him.

#phic phight #the other side #my phics #phics #danny fenton #danny phantom #maddie fenton #johnny 13

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philliamwrites · 3 years

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The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.1]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn't help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 There’s also a playlist for this story that you can find here and here.

Chapter 01: A High Destiny

A high destiny seemed to bear me on until I fell, never, never again to rise.

[Mary W. Shelley, Frankenstein]

It starts as it will end: in darkness.

Black dots dance in front of your eyes, merging into dark shadows clawing at your consciousness. A dull throb pounds in your temple, a steady rhythm that speaks of life but isn’t enough to allow awareness of your surroundings. Memory is a foreign word you can’t explain, and trying to think of the past 24 hours is an unachievable task. Every glimpse slips through your fingers like sand, and the only steady reference point is the solid ground pressing into your hands and back.

Slowly, you open your eyes. Treetops dance in the wind, towering above you like silent guardians of ancient times. The sun winks at you through thick branchesa and dancing green crowns, indicating it’s long past daybreak—but how do you know? Your memory is still a vast pool with no bottom and no means to dive into, and yet you think there’s a voice calling out to you, a heart-wrenching young, boyish voice—no, those are real voices ringing through the woods, appearing close to you. Alarmingly close.

“You’re awake,” a woman’s voice starts, moments later followed by a corresponding face. Round, lavender eyes surrounded by thick, white lashes peak from above at you, blinking curiously. It’s an expression far from friendly, but not exactly hostile either, and of all the things you can think of at this moment, it is how strikingly beautiful she is. But before you can say anything, another person joins, leaning too close in for comfort.

“You got us worried there, stranger,” a young man chimes in, squatting down beside you. His uniform isn’t exactly what you’d call fit for travelling through the woods. A heavy yellow cape falls over his shoulder, more fanciful display than practical use. But something in his posture seems very attentive, his broad shoulders taut like a drawn bowstring that won’t miss its target. “Weird place to take a nap, but hey, I’m not judging.”

“I wasn’t—” you start, immediately struck by a throbbing pain behind your right eye that reverberates through your skull and wretches a groan from you.

“Take it easy,” another voice joins, and panic spreads through you because of the amount of people surrounding you. Where the first man is a picture of warm colours—gold and sun kissed skin nourished on warm summer days, the other man observing you with a worried expression is clad in blue and black, blond hair falling into a pale face that carries the most striking blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Or so you think, because surely a colour like this, a blue stolen right out of the sky, wouldn’t be easily forgotten.

More movement and rustling of fabric, and a chill settles in your bones as you begin to fear that you’ve run into a bunch of ruffians who’ve only kept you alive for so long because they’re hoping for valuable information. More people emerge from the underbrush, carrying large sacks and backpacks with billycans dangling at their sides. Among them, a tall man with a beard, clad in robust mercenary’s gear, steps forward, concealing another young woman with sharp features and unusual greenish blue hair.

The sight of her strikes you like a bolt. It tastes like familiarity and the relief of being reunited with a long lost friend. But that is impossible. This is the first time you meet her.

Is it?

“You brats, I told you not to head off too far,” the older man bellows, crossing logs for arms in front of his broad chest. The first three take one big, polite step away from you, but don’t look apologetic at all.

“I’m sorry for our hastiness, Captain Jeralt,” the girl says, her eyes darting from you still sitting on the ground to him towering in his full height above them. “But it seems we would have otherwise not found this person.”

“This person who wasn’t really much conscious a couple of minutes ago,” the boy in yellow adds with a crooked grin. “How bad would it have been if someone else would have beaten us to it?”

“No need to make me look like the bad guy,” Captain Jeralt interrupts with a raised hand before the boy in blue can join his friends' justifications. Instead, he turns to you and regards you with a scrutinising look.

“What are you doing out here?” he demands. “Where’s your family? Friends?”

“Uhm, they’re—” you start, but nothing comes to your mind. Not only that. You don’t know why you’re out here, where you are exactly … and basically anything that should come to you about your own person remains shrouded in darkness. “I don’t know.”

Jeralt nods like that explains the very reason you’re still sitting on the ground like a misplaced cargo of cabbage. He kneads the nape of his neck, his face softening the tiniest bit. “And what’s your name?”

Unable to hold his piercing eyes, you drop your gaze to the ground, curling your trembling fingers into the fabric of your wool jacket. “I, uh… don’t know.”

If you thought you didn’t have their attention before, now their eyes are glued on your face in different levels of shock and disbelief.

“A case of amnesia?” the blond male says, not quite managing to achieve the right balance between blatant curiosity and polite worry. “Does this mean you have nowhere to go? Don’tknow where to go?”

“Goddess help you, Dimitri,” the other boy groans, running a hand through his short, brown hair. “Be any more tactless, will ya?”

“He isn’t wrong,” the girl says, observing you like you’re a fascinating new specimen in her collection of strange things. “You need a place to stay. And help until your memories return.”

If they return, you don’t dare to say because despite all things, hope still clings to you in the deepest corner of your heart, not allowing you to follow that train of thought and what it will mean for your future.

“Then by all means, if you want to join,” Jeralt says, waving a dismissive hand in your direction. “I don’t think you kids accept a No, so I’m going to save my breath.” He turns around with a grunt. “Get them your horse, Byleth. We’re late as it is, and another night of Alois talking my ears off will make me do something I’ll regret.”

The woman called Byleth keeps staring at you even as Jeralt walks past her and gives her shoulder a solid clap. You can’t say if she’s mute or just speechless because she’s filled with the same strange overflowing sensation like you: like a basin filling with water but unable to drain off. It appears you’re the same age, a couple of years older than the other three but still much younger than Jeralt, and yet the moment your eyes lock, it feels like there is something far older than any of you together passing between you. Something ancient.

“Well, first off, on your feet, little one.” Strong hands curl around your elbows, hoisting you up in one swift movement. A wave of dizziness hits you like an unavoidable spell, and the pounding from before settles back behind your right eye.

“Amazing, Claude,” the girl hisses, and quickly steps forward to steady you, pressing one hand against the small of your back where her strong fingers curl against the curve of your spine. Her other hand gently holds yours as she helps you regain your balance. “Excuse his manners. I promise not everyone from the Officers Academy behaves like a brute.”

“The what now?” you ask, hit by another wave of dizziness that might originate more from the girl’s soft lavender fragrance rather than the world spinning around you.

“The Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery,” Dimitri provides this time. His posture is straight like an arrow, the stance of a soldier speaking to his officer. “That is where we attend as students and hence are going right now.”

“And you want me to come with you?” you ask like you have the option to refuse and go somewhere else. Strangely, the thought of joining a group of armed knights and mercenaries doesn’t fill you with fear or anxiety. You’re about to tread into foreign waters, and yet your heart is calm like a still compass guiding you in the right direction.

Claude clasps his hands behind his head like he’s got nothing to do with you feeling unwell at the moment. “Unless you have another place to be?”

Luckily, your head does come clear and breathing becomes a little easier. You nod to the girl and she holds you a second longer before she nods back and lets go. “I guess not,” you mumble, looking at each one of them. Byleth still hasn’t moved. By now you can’t really tell if she’s looking at you or through you. Surely, she would have said something by now if she thought you were familiar, right?

“Then it’s settled.” The girl nods solemnly, throwing her silky, white hair over her shoulder. “We welcome you in our company. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir to the Adrestian Empire.” Edelgard gives you a tight-lipped smile that quickly thins into a white line when the other two introduce themselves as Claude von Riegan, grandson of the Sovereign Duke of the Leicester Alliance and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future king to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. None of these names ring a bell to you, but you nod, pretending to know exactly what they're talking about.

“Okay, we need a name for you as well,” Claude proposes, tapping a slender finger against his chin. He has a strikingly sharp jaw that looks fit to cut stone. “Can’t have everyone call you stranger or little one now, can we?”

“No,” you say. “Especially since we’re about the same height.”

Claude laughs like you just told him the best joke he’s heard in years. “Soo, since we found you here … how about Glade? Or Woody?”

“How about no,” you say with furrowed eyebrows.

“Apologies.” Edeglard sighs and shakes her head, her expression a mix between disappointment and annoyance. “Claude isn’t much accustomed to the notion of consideration.”

Claude rolls his eyes. “Then you come up with something, princess. Or is it impossible because you can’t take out the stick up your—”

“Claude,” Dimitri half shrieks, his pale cheeks splotched with red dots. As he stumbles over his own words trying to apologise for Claude’s behaviour, Edelgard simply deadpans, “Bold words for someone in stabbing range.”

The fourth in this round of strange people considers you with a blank expression, her steady gaze like a solid touch on your skin. Before a greater argument can break free between the students, Byleth says a name with a surety like she’s never said anything else in her life, and hearing it, this barely whispered word immediately lost to the wind, you just know it’s your name.

“Yes, much better than what Claude proposed.” Dimitri nods, regaining his composure even though he’s still staring daggers at Claude. “It sounds more civilised as well.”

“You didn’t even suggest anything,” Claude remarks, but the huff of annoyance quickly dissipates from his voice when he jerks a thumb towards Byleth. “That’s Byleth, by the way. Funny story is, we met her just a couple of hours ago as well.”

“Fate must have brought us together here today,” Dimitri agrees with a solemn nod. “I swear on my honour as a noble knight from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus that I will see you safe to the Monastery. Lady Rhea will surely be able to help you there.”

“Okay. Thank you,” you manage, unable to connect a face to this name in your head that feels like it’s about to burst any second anyway. The only course of action lies within those strangers who are so willingly offering help that you can’t stop worrying it’s a ruse. But without anything to offer them except your life, there’s little coming to your mind that they can anticipate in taking you with them. Tthe fact that Byleth knew your name doesn’t sit right with you as well. There’s something waiting to be grasped at the tips of your fingers, and yet you lack the strength to embrace it.

Following the little group of soldiers and students through the woods, you remain silent on the journey, only answering questions with approving or denying hums. How did you end up in this particular forest? According to Jeralt, you’re currently moving away from a village called Remire and towards the mountains to the northeast where the monastery lies tucked away between two mountains. Judging from the clothes you’re wearing, you’re a commoner, and when Edelgard pushed a slim dagger in your hand, nothing rung in intuitive knowledge about how to handle a weapon. Your mind remained silent, like an untouched chord.

There’s little you can say about the first impression those people left on you. There seems to be a unanimous dispute between the three students, hanging palpable in the air whenever an argument starts that’s pregnant with implied insults or passive-aggressive comments. From that you gather there’s tension between the governing fractions in Fódlan, something else you’ve learnt from listening to them squabbling.

Byleth and Jeralt acknowledge their bickering as if it was flies buzzing around their heads. They keep more to themselves and their mercenary comrades, indicating they’re really as much of strangers to the students as you. Their conversations are a lot quieter as well, their heads leaning close together for the illusion of privacy. More than once you notice Byleth sneaking glances in your direction, and every time you lock eyes, there’s something close to comprehension when she looks at you. The further you march through the woods, the less you try to meet her gaze. Reaching the monastery is the first step to regain who you are, or so you hope, because the opposite would mean you’ll continue stumbling through the darkness with no lead to your past or why you’re in this particular part of Fódlan, and you can only hope that this Rhea person really will be able to help you.

A sound from the underbrush cuts through your thoughts.

Thinking it might be an animal, you don’t let it bother you too much. No one else seems to have heard it, so maybe it was just your imagination. But your brain refuses to let it rest, and fails to push it away from your mind because something about the sound doesn’t seem to be right. The more you try to focus on it though, the blurrier it gets; the less you understand its origin.

Then, you hear a voice from within the woods. It sounds like a slurred whisper.

“What was that?” You stop in the middle of the road, looking around the thick trees. Claude barely manages to avoid walking into you. “What was what?”

“There’s something here.” Unable to explain further, you wave your hand around for emphasis. He looks at your hand, incomprehension written all over his face. “And that something is what exactly?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” You wave your hand wilder. “But I don’t have a good feeling venturing further.”

“You may be still tired,” Edelgard offers, not hiding her irritation that the journey stopped. “It won’t be long until we reach Garreg Mach. You can rest however long you need inside the monastery’s infirmary.”

“I’m not tired,” you hiss, hand falling back to your side where it clenches into a fist. “I just really don’t think we should go further for now.”

“And why is that?” Dimitri inquirers. He raises a hand and the soldiers following them come to a halt, a murmur of unrest breathing through their lines, and it’s just enough that you question if it would be better to play if off and admit your mind is playing tricks on you due to exhaustion.

But whenever you blink, a red veil falls over your right eye, blurring your surroundings. Little red dots move slowly in the distance through the forest. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it’s some sort of life form far away, slowly advancing on your position. “Because someone is coming,” you finally manage, scratching the thin skin below your irritated eye that’s started twitching slightly. “Someone is coming towards us from southwest. And I can’t say if they’re friendly or not.”

Three pairs of eyes consider you like you’ve grown a second head. Only Byleth stares into the woods like she might find the strangers you’re talking about waiting behind the trees if she just looks hard enough.

“Little one, are you sure this isn’t just an aftereffect from you hitting your head?” Claude offers, squinting into the woods. You’re pretty sure he’s staring directly at the moving dots but for whatever reason can’t see them.

“Unless amnesia is suddenly another term for going crazy, I don’t think so,” you snap, unable to hold back the irritation raising to the surface.

A whistle echoes through the tree crowns. Byleth snaps her head in the direction of the sound, growing all tense. She raises her hand into a tight fist, and all movement stills behind you. When you turn around, you see the mercenaries waiting in the underbrush like a flock of crows ready to swipe down on their prey. Jeralt breaks away from them and approaches Byleth, a frown cutting a deep wrinkle into his forehead.

“Bandits,” he says, and quickly signs a hand gesture to the nearest bowman. He nods and disappears between trees. “Another mile away. If we stay on this road, we’ll walk right into them.”

“Seven hundred feet, actually,” you blurt. Jeralt looks at you like you’re a cockroach under his boot. Another whistle cuts through the woods, one long followed quickly by two short. Byleth exhales audibly, and only now you notice she’s moved to stand beside you. “Seven hundred feet,” she mutters, her eyes fixed on you.

Jeralt tenses. “How do you know, kid?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble towards your boots. “I just see.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence falling around you, and you’re too afraid to look up and read distrust in their eyes.

“Does it matter?” Claude finally breaks the silence, sliding his bow from his shoulder. “They won’t be a problem with the knights and mercenaries on our side.” He jerks his chin towards Byleth, already plugging an arrow from his quiver. “You should really see her fight.”

“Wait,” you say, reflexively reaching for the hem of his cape. “Don’t engage them yet.”

Claude stops, one eyebrow arched up in a curve. “Beg your pardon?”

“They come from the woods. Which means this is their hunting ground and they have the advantage. They have dozens of archers. I think they’re waiting until you reach a glade. And then open fire.”

“Which means we’ll end up as skewers.” Claude scratches his chin and twirls the arrow between his slender fingers. “I can think of better ways to shuffle off this mortal coil.”

Dimitri perks up. “You’ve read the Tale of Hamelot I gave you?”

“I’ll give it a six out of ten. His soliloquies were awful.”

“Boys.” Edelgard snaps her fingers impatiently as Dimitri opens his mouth to protest. “Not the time.” She takes your wrist and pulls it away from Claude’s cape, her hard gaze like a sharp knife. “Are we simply ignoring the fact that we have someone in our midst knowing the enemies’ movement and deployment?” she cuts in harshly. “Is this a plan to lure us into an ambush?”

“You think someone would give away their comrades’ position just like that?” Claude eyes her wearily. “Don’t be so suspicious of everyone.”

She glares at him. “I rather be suspicious than dead.”

Which is a valid point and a trait you willingly admit to share with her, but that doesn’t really solve the problem at hand. Luckily, Dimitri seems to think the same. He doesn’t unfasten the spear on his back yet, but his fingers dance swiftly over the handle, immediately resting on where he can easily pull it from the straps if needed to strike down an enemy. “Fact is enemies are approaching,” he concludes, looking at his fellow students in search for a consensual ceasefire. “We must put an end to them before they target defenceless travellers on their way out of the forest.”

“Spoken like a true crowd-pleaser,” Claude says, either unable or not caring to hide the mock in his voice. “We can resolve our new friend’s condition after we take down the enemy.”

“I don’t agree with this,” Edelgard declares, but nonetheless unclasps the double-bit axe from her back and swings it on her shoulder like it weighs nothing. “But I accept that this is a more pressing issue.” The easiness in the movement robs your lungs of air, and even though there are more important matters to focus on, you wonder how her muscles play under her black uniform swinging around a thing like that. Your admiration comes to a quick end when Jeralt and Byleth close the circle. Her hand rests on the hilt of a short blade as she scans the underbrush, her body rigid with battle anticipation.

“Let them come to us,” Jeralt announces. “Let them think they have the advantage.”

“Your knigths over there move slow through the woods,” you say, gesturing at the waiting man clad in heavy armour and armed with shields. “But their amour can resist some stray arrows coming down on us. It’s the rearguard that will take them by surprise from another direction and—”

“And charge their flank or rear to finish them off,” Jeralt ends with a crude nod. “Indirect approach. I thought of that as well.”

Your mouth goes dry. The idea plopped seemingly out of nowhere in your mind, but yes, now that you think about it, that is the indirect approach tactic, first recorded after the Battle of Nicaea in … Faerghus? Or was it Adrestia? The picture in your mind is still blurry, but now you can make out definite lines of objects: Books with drawn pictures of pointing arrows and coloured lines, each lettered with a name or an approach in a neat handwriting that isn’t yours. The picture triggers another wave of dizziness, disappearing as fast as it appeared.

“They’re going to faint in three, two, one…” Claude’s voice rips you back to the present. You glare at him and raise a fist to show how close to fainting you really are. He only laughs at the tiny fist in front of his face.

“Enough brats, get into position,” Jeralt bellows, and the students scatter with a bouncing step in all their strides as they take the lead of a small unit.

You’re about to retreat to the furthest point away from battle when Jeralt blocks the way. “Not you. You’re going with Byleth.”

“I’m what?”

“Byleth,” Jeralt nods to the young woman ahead of you, “will be the commanding unit and you’ll help her.”

The world tilts a little as panic takes hold of you. “I can’t. I don’t know how to fight.”

“You seem to know enough to plan a counterattack.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Your voice sounds horribly piercing even to your own ears. “It was just a lucky guess.”

“I don’t know what’s the deal with you,” Jeralt says with a finality to his voice that doesn’t allow objection, and this time you clearly see the head of a mercenary guild, one that gives commands with every breath. “But that wasn’t a lucky guess. You see what it needs to win a battle. So you guide them.”

He turns around sharply and leaves, not bothering to check if you plan to abandon them. It’s madness. You should abandon these people, should flee from the fight that will demand blood and death. One, two, three … six steps and you’re standing beside Byleth, taking deep breaths. It doesn’t help. She eyes you sideways with a raised brow, and you flinch at the metallic rasping sound as she draws her sword.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mumble, staring into the woods. The red dots are approaching faster, forming into more recognisable features of humans. “I’m going to die. Without knowing who I am or why I’m here. This is the worst day of my life. I think. I don’t know. It has to be.”

Byleth hums beside you. You can’t tell if it’s a thoughtful or an affirmative hum. “This might sound crazy, but I do trust you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” you say, struck by a sudden fear that this all is a fever dream and you're about to lead them into ruin. It’s enough that you don’t even notice this is the first time you two are talking to each other since your meeting.

Byleth studies you out of the corner of her eyes, then says, “A very persistent voice inside me tells me I shouldn’t.”

“That’s your survival instinct. Listen to it.”

“Yeah,” Byleth says, and there’s something like a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. You blink and it's gone. “I might do that.”

You don’t really understand what’s there to smile about, but the moment quickly disappears as silence settles, only occasionally disturbed by a bird sitting in the trees above you.

“So what exactly do you see?” Byleth whispers after a moment, barely shifting in her crouching position. You on the other hand really want to move your legs before they go numb.

“I don’t know why you guys even believe me,” you mumble, and pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers, trying to stave off another rush of dizziness. “And I don’t understand it myself. It’s the opponent, in a way. I see their strengths and weaknesses, their amour and weapons. It’s like … it’s like the flow of battle is displayed in front of me.”

Byleth hesitates a moment, then nods like everything is pretty much self-explanatory. You wonder if to her it really does sound plausible, as she is someone who is practically born in battle, a daughter to a mercenary who breathes battle and fighting. Before you can explain anything further, she ducks more into the bushes and silences you with a sharp hush, her body tensed. The first bandits approach the glade, their bows and arrows ready to strike as the Academy’s knights engage them. Swords and axes clash against each other, battle cries ring through the woods. Byleth gestures you to follow her, and out of the corner of your eyes you see the students do the same, moving around the bandits. From the distance, you notice Claude gesturing wildly. It’s a mix between pointing at himself and then at the space a couple of feet away from his unit, and though you’re unable to fully comprehend it, you shake your head. He gives a thumbs up and slows down until he halts inside the thick cover of ferns.

Just when you reach the right angle, Byleth looks back at you, waiting for your approval, and after briefly hesitating, you signal with a short nod to attack. Edelgard is the first to emerge from the underbrush. She has a dancer’s grace and a seemingly unerring instinct for what her opponent will do next. Her axe cuts through the first bandits who are too surprised to regroup in time. Dimitri and Claude are quickly to follow her. The crown prince of Faerghus wields his weapon of choice like he’s never done anything else in his entire life. The spear is the instrument to a deadly song they know by heart, and whoever stands in the way of their melody is cut down swiftly. Claude doesn’t disappoint with his steady aim either, his eyes sharper than an eagle’s. He nocks his bow, draws and impales a bandit that’s been running toward a mercenary with a crooked nose and eye patch. The mercenary gives him an offhand salute and goes back to fighting a thug twice his size.

And then there’s Byleth. At first you don’t see her as the battle’s chaos swallows her and she disappears between moving bodies. But once your eyes catch up to her again, it’s hard to look away. Byleth moves through the enemies’ lines like an avenging angel on a mission. Her sword arm causes havoc as it conducts the tact of death’s complicated choreography and one by one the bandits fall to her deadly dance. Strangely, what describes it the best, you think, is divine.

The battle is almost over. The last bandits fall or flee back into the woods as they abandon their comrades who lay down their weapons and yield. A miserable sound of relief escapes you when you see the end nearing with little casualties on your side, thanking whoever watches over you and guides your weapons in victory.

That is until you see something, and at first you aren’t really sure you see it. Veiled by a red haze, a gruesome scene unfolds before you: As Byleth is focused on helping a soldier back up on his feet, a bandit strikes her from behind, wedging a dagger through her spine and into her heart. When you blink, the scene is gone and with it the red veil covering your surroundings.

You don’t think twice. Jumping out of your hiding spot, you quickly recognise what will be Byleth’s murderer. Only he never gets the chance to approach her. With everything you’ve got, you charge into him and send him flying on the ground, you on top of him. The bandit groans, groggily turning on his back to see what struck him, and before you can start to fear for your own dear life, Byleth is beside you and rams her sword into his throat, silencing him forever.

She looks down at you and you feel like she knows what just happened. Why you jumped in. It’s in those keen, piercing eyes that speak of a unimaginable wisdom. She reaches a hand out to help you up, and when you stand, the last bandits have been secured and the chaos finally settles. That is when the throbbing pain in your right eye doubles you ever, the pain akin to a pinprick of ice hammering into your skull. The pain makes you sick as stars explode behind your closed eyes, and the more they dance in feverish circles, the harder you press your hands against your eyelids, trying to smother the pain by pressure. It doesn’t work.

Unable to breathe properly, your stumble, and when you move your hands, your fingers smear something warm and wet across your cheeks.

Someone takes in a sharp breath. “Your eye,” Byleth breathes, a hand raised but remaining hanging in the air like she’s unsure if it’s okay to touch you. In the background you hear someone calling out you’re bleeding, and it takes a few seconds to understand where you’re bleeding from. Your right eye cries blood when the pain finally knocks you out, darkness falling onto everything.

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sarah-writes-marvel · 3 years

Text

After-Party Showdown: MCU Cast x Fem!Reader (platonic)

S.S.” Ive literally had this fic finsihed since like Febuary so its a little rough but let me know how you like it!

Warnings: Blood, predetor male (Sorry to anyone named Eric... im sure your very kind), rudness..., sexual talk (kinda)

Word Count:1,710

MASTERLIST

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

We had finished watching the premiere of the newest Avenger movie and the set, cast and a few selected friends returned to the reserved reception room at the hotel that many were staying at.

RDJ, Tom Holland, Hiddelston and Gwenth were talking with a few friends of theirs and some of the set members. Chris Evans, Hemsworth, Elizabeth and Scarlett were also in their own separate group that was somewhat merged with Sebastian, Anthony, Don and Paul.

I was new blood to the crew, and although I was immediately accepted by the cast, I watched them mingle from the bar.

Eventually people began to disperse, mainly people that worked the cameras and the background actions. Basically leaving the actors and actresses and their few friends they brought with.

I continued to sit at the bar talking with various people that came to refill drinks, even had a lovely conversation with the bartender, who seemed slightly star stucken. Nearing the end of the night a charming gentleman came to my side and struck up a conversation with me as we sipped away at our drinks.

“Hello beautiful. I’ve got to say you’re way too pretty to be over here on your own.” he said with a pearly white smile.

“Oh well thank you.” I blushed at his compliment.

“So why aren’t you mingling with everyone? I've seen you sitting over here all night.” he replied, studying my face.

“I’m more of a people watcher. Introverted and all that jazz.” I reply taking a sip of my drink looking at the cast laughing and talking.

“Alright I can understand that. Do you want to be less introverted and hang out with me?” He replied with a sly tone in his voice.

“Well you sitting next to me talking aren’t you?” I stated. “In my book that’s considered hanging out.”

“Well I meant more along the lines of a nice walk and maybe heading back to my place.” His statement was blunt and outgoing.

“Oh well, I appreciate the invitation but I have to decline.” I replied as kindly as possible.

“Oh come on sweetheart. Why not?” His voice whined.

“First I don’t know your name. Second, I'm not a one night stand kinda girl, I'm assuming that’s what you had in mind.” I looked at him pointedly and annoyed.

“I’m sure I could change your mind. I’m Eric. It’s wonderful to meet you.” He held his hand out and finally introduced himself.

“I wish you would’ve led with your name.”

“Duly noted.” he retracted his hand before he kept talking. “So what’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Very hot.” his comment caused me to roll my eyes just slightly.

“If you are going to try and complement my clothes off you should stop now.”

“Why? Because it’s going to work.” He leaned in, the brandy apparent on his breath, his hand sneaking around my waist.

“No,it won’t work. I would also appreciate you not touching me.” I said scooting a few inches away.

“Oh come on. You know you want to have a good time.”

“I was having a good time.” Even I could recognize the annoyance in my voice. I continued to watch my friends talk amongst themselves, saying goodbye to others.

“I can make it so much better though. I mean the dress is just begging to come off. It would be a great addition to my floor.”

“Excuse me?” I set my drink down on the bar, standing up and crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Oh please. You wore that so you could get compliments didn’t you?” His eyes looked at the dress that hung on my body. It was a decently modest midnight blue dress. It hugged my waist, the skirt ended just above the knee, it even had long sleeves. The only suggestive thing about it was the vneck and the open back.

“Yes. Compliments. That was not a compliment. That was a shitty way to try and pick up someone.” I replied.

“Oh please. You should be happy that I asked you.” His face turned to anger almost as if he was annoyed.

“I’m perfectly happy turning down your request. I hope that you have a good night.” I turned heading towards the group to leave behind the creep at the bar but a hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled me back.

“What the hell do you think you are doing.” My voice was stern yet quiet doing my best not to create a scene.

“I’m going to ask again until you say yes.” he’s hand tightened around my wrist.

“Let go of my wrist.” I demanded a little louder wishing that the bartender hadn’t left to retrieve more ice and alcohol.

“Not till you say yes.” He seethed. I tugged against the resistance on my wrist trying to pull away. “Quit being such a bitch and take the compliment that I actually want to sleep with you.” His voice was hot against my neck when he leaned in to whisper that into my ear. I snapped.

I twisted my arm causing his hand to turn with it allowing me to break free, gripping his wrist pulling him from his seat wrapping his hand behind his back and shoving his face into the bar. Suddenly all eyes are on the interaction.

“First of all, I don’t need to feel grateful for you telling me that I look beautiful, I’ve heard it many times, and that my clothes would look better on your floor.” I let go of my hold, Evans and RDJ approached the two of us. Eric stood up, raising his hand, almost in an attempt to hit me.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Evans said before Eric moved.

“Don't tell me what to do with my girlfriend.We we’re just having a nice conversation.” Eric smirked, his hand placed on my waist.

“Seriously. You seriously just did that?” RDJ laughed.

“What? Did you come to save her or something?”

“Oh no. We aren’t saving her. She can easily take you on her own. We’re just suggesting that you don’t do that because it’ll come with an asswhopping from a young woman in heels and many lawsuits.” RDJ started with a smug tone.

“There is no way in hell that she'll be able to take me. Plus I've got amazing lawyers.” Eric spat back with a smirk.

“Oh ya, no. You really don’t want to challenge her.” Hemsworth commented. Eric looked at him with anger in his eyes. I picked up my glass from the counter, taking a sip and holding onto it so I wouldn’t punch his face.

“Whatever.” he turned towards me. “Good luck ever getting laid with your attitude.You’re nothing without a man's approval you know. Even had to have these people come to your rescue.”

His voice was quiet and annoyed trying to dig under my skin. And it did a little bit, but it just fueled my anger toward him. I looked at him and the glass shattered in my hand as I tightened my grip. The glass fell to my feet the remaining liquid splashing onto my dress and onto his outfit.

“You can go.” I even scared myself with the tone of my voice as I spoke. The look of fear in the man's eyes gave me a sense of pleasure that I put him in his place. He pushed his way through the group that had surrounded us and rushed through the exit.

“Well then. What a dick.” I started watching the door close. My hand was still in a fist and I held my other hand underneath, feeling the blood from the cuts drip into a puddle in my palm.

Everyone looked at me shocked.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to involve anybody. Is everyone ok?” I looked at the astonished faces of my friends.

“Are you seriously asking if we're ok?” RDJ questioned.

“Well ya.” I shrugged my shoulders looking at everyone who all seemed very concerned.

“You just crushed a glass with your bare hand. You are bleeding. We should be asking you that!” He exclaimed.

“Oh ya. I’m fine. I really hate guys like that though.” I looked down at my dripping hand and turned around to face the bar. I reached behind grabbing one of the clean white towels, dipping it into the cup of water that I had at the spot I was sitting. I began cleaning the affected wounds when Evans took over.

“You know I knew that you could take Hemsworth and I but I never knew you could do this! You gotta be careful. Someone might think you've got some super soldier serum flowing in your blood.” He smiled as he wiped away the blood and examined the cut in the center of my palm for glass. “Alright this may hurt just a bit.” He began tightly wrapping the cloth around my hand, tucking the end into itself.

“You should go to a doctor to get that properly taken care of.” Scarlett added.

“That's a good idea.” I agreed, standing from the seat that I had been pushed down on. “Well I had a great night with y’all! I hope I didn't ruin it with that little fiasco.” I smiled grabbing my clutch from the bar and walking through the group.

“Well where the hell are you going?” RDJ questioned.

“The hospital to get stitches, you know like Scar suggested.” I was confused at his question.

“Well someone’s gotta go with ya.” Evans stated.

“Ya. We’ll go with you. The night is still young!” RDJ exclaimed standing up and meeting me.

“You don't all have to come, it'll just be a couple of stitches.” I laughed.

“Too late I called the limo already. We're taking a trip to the hospital!” RDJ celebrated. Soon the rest of the crew was chiming in on a “To the hospital” chant as we made our way out the door, earning confused and concerned looks from the staff of the hotel.

To say the hospital staff was surprised to see the cast of the marvel movies enter the emergency was an understatement, but I was glad to have the best people around me, even if it was for a few stitches.

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

Like I said it was one of the first fics I had written a while ago... But I hope you liked it! thanks for reading!

#mcu #mcucast #chrisevans #rdj #scarlettjohanson #chrishemsworth #avengers #captianamerica #ironman #thor #marvel #marvelfanfic #readerinsert

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chrwrites · 3 years

Text

Drunk Talks (and Sober Confessions)

this one was written for the previous @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge prompt: “I love you.” “Tell me that when you’re sober.”

It became longer than it was supposed to be so it’s not a sprint fic anymore, but I enjoyed writing this a lot even though it took me longer than expected :)

read on ao3

When Luka saw Marinette enter the living room of the Liberty that night, he choked on the drink he was having, and his best friend next to him had to clap on his back until he recovered, his face still red.

What a perfect beginning for the night, he thought.

It didn’t help that Ruby had mixed his drink a bit too strong for his liking and his throat was burning when he turned his gaze back to Marinette.

Why did he let his sister organize a Halloween party on the boat, anyway? He didn’t even like big parties, he could have just said no, but then Rose had pleaded him with her signature puppy eyes and there was no way he was saying no to that.

Not to mention that he really wanted to see Marinette. He had been busy between work and university and her last year of lycée had her stressing over the BAC ever since the beginning of the school year. They hadn’t been able to hang out properly in a while, and… he missed her. He had been looking forward to seeing her again, he just didn't expect her to look like... like this.

Now that she walked in the room, Luka felt breathless. It was like he was looking at someone else, even though he could still see all her sweetness under a costume he would have never imagined seeing on her.

Her blue eyes looked a shade darker under the purple eyeshadow that merged with black at the side of her eyelids, and her usually pink lips were tinted purple to match. Luka took another sip from his cup before bringing his attention to the rest of the look.

Marinette’s black hair was tied in a half bun, and the free strands fell on a black crop top that sported a purple skull in the middle. A checkered black and green skirt wrapped around her hips, ending a few inches above her knees, and her legs were covered by a thin layer of purple fabric. Where did she get those combat boots?

Okay, breathe Luka. It’s not like your crush has dressed up as your first fictional crush. It’s fine, it’s fine. You can go to her, tell her how much you like her costume and how much you wish to-

“You’re drooling”, Ruby’s amused voice called him back to reality, and he almost snapped his neck as he turned to look at her, hoping that the heat he felt on his cheeks wasn’t visible, but the knowing glint in her eyes told him the exact opposite.

Didn’t they watch Danny Phantom every time they had sleepovers when they were younger? And as Ruby said how cool Sam Manson was and how she wanted to be like her, he ended up telling himself that he was going to marry someone like her, and she’d scold him because “We’re besties and I’m not marrying you, that’s gross”. Luka grew out of his punk-girls-can-step-on-me phase – or at least he thought he did until now – after his first break up, and then he met Marinette and decided that pink was his favourite colour because it was cute and soft and Marinette.

Despite knowing that she could pull off anything, Luka didn’t expect her to look so good in darker colours.

Okay, let’s face it, he just wasn’t ready to see her like this.

“Who would’ve guessed that the cute baker’s daughter would have gotten you all worked up within five minutes in being in the same room as you. That’s a record, Lu”, Ruby snickered and grabbed a bottle from the table beside them, filling his cup again, “You need another drink”.

Luka didn’t protest and brought the cup to is lips as he looked back at Marinette, taking another good chunk of his drink and not caring for the burn he felt in his throat this time.

She was talking to Adrien and complimenting him for his Ladybug inspired costume, and if she blushed it was only because she felt flattered and not because of that huge crush she used to have on him.

If this had happened a year ago, she would have been gushing about the fact that her crush was dressed up as her superhero alterego and would have been freaking out, but now she just laughed. She didn’t even stammer around him anymore, and she was glad that she could finally cherish their friendship now.

There was someone else in her heart, someone with a bright smile and the sweetest voice and the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen, and she had finally gathered the courage to tell him how she felt. That was the perfect night, she had dressed up for him, her parents were away for the weekend so she had no curfew to think about, and that meant that she could enjoy Luka’s company for as long as she wanted. And she had been preparing for this moment for a while, too. From the dress to the words she would have said to him, and she had to do now was hoping not to be rejected.

Luka had always been there for her, and now that she was finally ready to face her feelings for him, she hoped he’d still be there, in a different but better way.

Marinette’s eyes wandered around the room looking for him, and among some unfamiliar faces – that she supposed were his friends – she found him, standing in a corner of the room and smiling to a girl that was sticking out her tongue at him. Wait, was he blushing?

Of course he was, she was gorgeous.

Crimson hair, green eyes framed by a thin line of eyeliner, and the red on her lips didn’t look obnoxious. A plain black choker decorated her neck, and the long-sleeved crop top she was wearing left her stomach exposed, the ripped skinny jeans only helped accentuating the curves of her body.

She was the perfect mix between punk and stylish. And she was tall, not as much as him, but enough that she didn’t have to pull herself on her tiptoes to kiss him. It’s not like Marinette had thought about it, anyway.

Now that she looked at him having fun with someone that was just like him, she felt pathetic. Marinette was ready to tell him how she was in love with him, and all her hopes were shattered. Gone. She had missed her chance.

Whoever she was, she was a much better fit for him, anyway, beautiful and cool and just perfect. And Marinette was just… Marinette, trying to fit in clothes that weren’t meant for her just to impress him. She was young and stupid, and she had dressed up while both Luka and the other girl were in low effort costumes. Luka was wearing his everyday clothes but wore the black eyeliner he usually put on when he performed and brought out his eyes, and the red-haired girl managed to pull off cat ears without looking awkward or dumb.

Marinette felt stupid for hoping that Luka would have answered her feelings and cursed herself for not being able to speak up sooner. She sighed, deciding to deal with how much of an idiot she was the only way a mature and responsible person of age could deal with their problems, “Shots, anyone?”.

Alya gave her a cup to drink from, and Luka found himself staring at Marinette’s painted black nails from where he was when Ruby called his attention, passing him another full cup of liquor mixed with juice.

“Are you going to talk to her?”, she asked.

“I’m not sure I can talk to her while trying to control the impulse to jump her”, Luka sighed, fiddling with the cup in his hand. He felt breathless just by looking at her, how could he expect to talk to her? He hadn’t gathered enough liquid courage to walk to her just yet.

Besides, Marinette was with her friends, and he couldn’t just walk to her and tell her how he thought that she looked great and he couldn’t take his eyes off her, just the way she smiled and her lashes fluttered under the lights they had set was making him weak, and how that look fit her was just… incredible. But he also thought that her clothes would look better on his–

“Woah, when did it go from “She’s the music in my heart” to this?”, Ruby snickered, raising one eyebrow at him.

“Oh, shut up”, Luka groaned, downing part of his drink to drown his thoughts.

He shouldn’t have been thinking about her sister’s friend in that way in the first place, but he couldn’t really help himself when she was the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen.

“Really, though, I don’t think staring at her like a creep is the way to go”, Ruby said.

Luka sighed, focusing his attention on the drink he was holding, and reprimanding himself for thinking about her in that way.

Maybe avoiding her was the best idea, but just as the thought of moving to a less crowded room to not see her crossed his mind, Marinette’s happy voice called his name, “Luka!”.

He looked up, and all he saw was the bright smile Marinette was giving him.

He felt his heart miss a beat when he noticed that the pick he had given her the first time they met was dangling from the choker she was wearing. Luka brought his cup to his mouth again, chugging some of his drink, hoping that some more alcohol would have helped him to at least spit out some words and kill the wild thoughts forming in his mind. But all Luka could focus on was the way the purple and white piece of plastic fit perfectly in the middle of her pale neck and the curve of Marinette’s exposed shoulders and how he wanted to–

“You’re wearing an amazing costume! Don’t you think so, Lu?”

Luka straightened up as soon as he felt something hit his foot, and Ruby was giving him a tight smile and nudging her head at Marinette begging him with her eyes to speak for goodness' sake. Luka winced, but was grateful that she had opted for canvas shoes instead of combat boots that night.

He looked at Marinette again and it didn’t take long for him to get the same awestruck expression he had been sporting since she walked into the room. He was too distracted from the vision that she was in that moment that all his stupid mouth had managed to choke out was a “It’s... very good”, that earned him a disappointed pout from Marinette, and a very exasperated sigh from his best friend.

“Just good?”, Marinette giggled, and tried to twirl around but ended up tripping on her feet. Luka promptly leaned forward to catch her and Marinette let out a happy intoxicated laugh, clasping her hands on his shoulders, “I’m mad at you now”, she said, faintly trying to put some distance between them. Luka waited until she straightened up before letting his hands leave her waist, and he couldn’t control the small chuckle that left his lips.

Marinette grinned and took one step closer to him, raising one finger to his face, “I can’t really be mad at you now, can I? You have the prettiest smile”.

Luka gulped, feeling his cheeks heat up at the compliment, “You’re drunk, Mari”, he stated, more to himself than to her.

“I don’t know, maybe? I feel so good, Luka! And I need to talk to you”, she said, the alcohol in her body giving her the confidence she didn’t have sober.

Luka shook his head as he fought the fond expression forming on his face, “Let’s go grab some water first”.

“But I want to talk now!”, the girl in front of him whined, and closed the distance between them placing her head on his shoulder. Luka’s breath hitched and he had to force himself to focus on something different than the very drunk Marinette that was clumsily wrapping her arms around him.

Luka sighed, looking down at her as she nuzzled her face on his neck, “You smell so nice!”.

“Marinette”, he called, trying to gently pull her away from him enough to fill a cup with water and give it to her.

“Yes, that’s my name!”, she chirped, taking the cup he offered and chugging it down. A drop of water fell from the corner of her lips, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. Luka had to look away from her, trying to hold back the thoughts forming in his mind.

“Water is so good!”, she laughed, tumbling towards him again, this time Luka placed his hands on her bare arms to steady her.

“Ah, Luka! Have I ever told you how great I think you are? You never fail to catch me”.

The surprised look on Luka’s face turned into a soft expression rather than a concerned one, but he still couldn’t manage to say something to her, or at least thank her for the compliment. And as he stood silent, Marinette suddenly grabbed his hand, pulling him with her and walking away with him. Where did she find that strength?

He tried to pull away from her and looked back at his friend for help, who grinned and raised her cup to him, winking. She winked. Marinette was going to kill him and Ruby didn’t even raise one finger to help him.

Traitor.

If he got through that night without doing something he could regret in the morning he was going to reconsider all of his friendships. A friend doesn’t let you leave with your crush hand in h– okay, maybe he was overreacting, but having Marinette’s hand intertwined with his didn’t really help with thinking straight, especially when he had knocked down a few drinks, too.

“Marinette what–”, he called, trying to remain as calm as possible as she dragged him through the corridor that led to the bedroom he shared with Juleka. She tripped on her feet more than once, and Luka decided it was safer for her to be carried than to walk, “Oh Luka you’re soooo strong”, Marinette laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. He could feel her warm breath on his skin along with the cloying smell of peach vodka, and he forced himself not to focus on that and instead worked on opening the door to his room without making Marinette fall.

When he managed to get inside and shuffle to his bed, Marinette didn’t seem to want to let go of him and she pulled him down with her when he tried to lay her down.

He ended up laying on top of her for a split second before he quickly moved to sit up on his bed. Marinette's giggles died down and she was looking at him, eyes glassy and cheeks a deep shade of pink.

Luka looked away from her and inhaled a deep breath before suddenly feeling her shift and wrap her arms around him. Her laughter was way too cheerful and he forced himself not to think about the way her hands touched his skin or how her hair tickled his neck or how she was sitting on his lap. Shit.

“Luka, you’re really amazing”, she raised her head to look at him, getting way too close than necessary, and he had to put his hands on her shoulders to put some distance between them.

“Marinette, please, don’t make it harder than it already is”, he said, trying to catch his breath.

“Why, is it hard?”, she asked innocently, and tilted her head, “I’m just saying the truth”.

Oh God, now he really needed another drink as strong as those Ruby made.

Marinette blinked slowly, and brought one hand to his cheek, slowly tracing his features with her fingers, “You’re so gorgeous... And talented... And kind... And caring... And I love the sound of your voice... And when you play for me...”, her voice was low as the words tumbled out slowly from her mouth.

She looked sincere, almost like she knew what she wanted to say and it wasn’t the alcohol talking for her. The giddy smile wasn’t leaving her face as she traced his lips, and Luka felt his skin burn where it had been graced by her touch.

He knew that it was wrong. He knew it. And he knew that he had to stop her. So why was his body completely frozen? Why didn’t his mouth dare to open?

“And I really, really love you Luka”, Marinette closed her eyes and leaned in, pressing her forehead into his. Luka could feel the beat of his heart getting quicker, and he shivered as soon as the words left her mouth, his stomach twisting unpleasantly. That was too much.

He gulped, his trembling hands gently pulling her away and his body shifting further from her as much as the length of his bed allowed.

“T-tell me that when you’re sober”, he choked on his words, and he took a deep breath to gather himself.

Marinette didn’t seem to notice his change in behaviour and laughed, “But I love you now, too! And tomorrow I will be sober, but I will still love you! And I’ll tell you again. I promise!”, she blabbered, the glint in her eyes was killing him as she adjusted herself on his lap again.

“Marinette, please.”, Luka pleaded, trying to get her off him.

God, had they been in a different situation he wouldn’t have complained at all. If she had been clinging onto him sober, he would have happily carried her around, and he’d love it. And maybe he’d spend the rest of the night telling her how beautiful she was, how much he adored her costume and how dark colours suited her. Had they been in a different situation, he would’ve–

No, he wasn’t supposed to think about this now.

Luka sighed and made her settle down on his bed, taking off her shoes, “Why don’t you sleep it off? We can talk about it tomorrow”. If you still remember this.

Marinette looked at him, blinking through her long lashes, “Will you sleep with me?”.

Luka’s mouth went dry. He looked at her, her hair going in different directions on his pillow and his hand was reaching for her cheek before he realized what it was doing and pulled it away.

He looked away, trying to find something that he could do for her that didn’t involve her looking at him.

“How about I get you something more comfortable to wear?”, he asked, clearing his throat and walking to his closet.

“No, I like what I’m wearing! But if you don’t, I can take it off, you didn’t seem to like it anyway”, she said, sitting on his bed and reaching for the hem of her top.

“No no no”, Luka said quickly as he ran to her and put his hands on hers to stop her, his eyes wide.

Marinette raised her head, looking at him adoringly.

“Have your eyes always been this blue? They’re beautiful”.

Luka gulped as he felt heat rising to his cheeks, and turned his gaze away from her.

She’s drunk, there’s no way she means what she's saying. She’ll forget about it tomorrow and I can deal with this, I’m not leaving her alone.

“Wanna know something fun?”, Marinette sat back up and crossed her legs, “I really, really want to kiss you now”, her words were tangling on her tongue, but he wished he didn’t hear them since his chest started to ache.

No, he couldn’t handle this.

She was grinning at him widely, looking like she knew what she was doing, and leaned her chin on her hand, staring directly into his eyes, “Do you want to kiss me?”.

Okay, this was a bad dream, all Luka had to do was take a deep breath and ignore the beautiful girl sitting in his bed looking way too tempting for him. Then he’d wake up and everything would be fine and Marinette would still be the girl he was in love with, but she hadn’t told him that she wanted to kiss him like she really meant it.

Too bad it felt too real and he had to fight the need to kiss that stupid beautiful grin off her face for so many different reasons.

She is drunk and I would never take advantage of her.

She doesn’t really love me.

This is wrong.

Luka bit his lip until it hurt before speaking again, “You know what? I’ll do it if you tell me all this again when you’re sober”.

His eyes widened as his brain registered the words that slipped from his mouth and brought one hand to his face. That was probably the alcohol doing the talking for him as well.

The whine Marinette let out was adorable, and Luka tried to keep a straight face as she put her lips into a pout, “But I wanna kiss you now!”, she crossed her arms.

Luka shook his head, and that was enough for her to sigh and fall back on his bed, stretching out her legs on his lap after he felt safe enough to sit at the bottom of the bed.

“Fine, tomorrow I will tell you all of this, and I will tell you more! Like how I draw your face when I feel uninspired, and how I listen to you singing when I can’t sleep, and about the jacket I’m–”, Marinette stopped her rambling and brought one hand to her mouth before bursting into loud giggles, “Shhh… That’s supposed to be a secret!”.

When her laughter died down, she pressed her index to her mouth and looked at him through half-lidded eyes, “Aw, Luka, am I making you blush now?”, she whispered.

Luka let out a shaky breath and slid away from her legs, getting up.

Being alone in the same room with her had never been this hard, he pinched his nose with his fingers, begging himself to stay calm, and walked back to her. She was looking at him with tired eyes, seemingly out of energy.

“Sleep now”, he said patiently, his voice sweeter than he expected it to be as he tugged her under the covers.

Marinette let out a tired sigh as she closed her eyes, “Wait… I need to take off… Make-up”, she mumbled, and lazily waved one hand to her face.

Luka couldn’t help but chuckle at her, “Hold on, I’ll do it”, he reassured and walked to Juleka’s vanity to get the cleansing wipes for her.

He sat on the floor in front of Marinette before taking one of the wet wipes from the package and starting to remove the make up on her face with gentle strokes. She shrieked and suddenly turned her head on the other side, giggling, “It tickles!”.

Luka let out a laugh of his own as he moved the wipe to carefully clean her eyes. Marinette seemed not to be bothered by his movements and let out a content sigh, leaning towards his delicate touch and blabbering comments on how he was so nice and good and everything.

“I’m all ugly now”, Marinette whined as she watched Luka take another wipe from the package.

“You know that’s not true, Mari”, Luka said softly.

“Sei così dolce, Luka!”, she sighed happily, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re beautiful”, Luka couldn’t help but whisper, and if his hand lingered a little longer on her cheek, Marinette didn’t seem to complain.

“I think you’re beautiful, too!”, she chirped, but then her brows furrowed in confusion, “Wait, no… you don’t use that for men, you’re… what’s the word? Whatever, you’re very good-looking”, she laughed, “Very much good-looking”.

Luka had lost count of the times Marinette left him breathless that night, “Stay still now”, he breathed out before gently moving her face so he could take the make-up off the other part of her face. She nodded, and closed her eyes again, relaxing under his touch.

He had to use three wipes to take all the make-up off, and he had yet to remove the purple on her lips. He had avoided them carefully, knowing that if he touched them, he would have probably combusted on the spot.

Luka took a deep steadying breath before he started to wipe away the purple from her lips with a shaky hand, revealing the soft peachy colour he loved so much.

The hint of an intoxicated smile was still on her lips as he gingerly removed the last hint of purple, admiring how soft and beautiful she looked without any make-up, her bangs falling messily on her forehead only accentuated her beauty.

He switched off the light to the room with his free hand and kept his gaze on her. She hadn’t made any sound since he started taking off the make up from her lips, probably asleep by now, and Luka indulged himself in keeping the hand that was still on her lips there.

The city lights coming through the porthole made her seem ethereal, hell, she was ethereal. Luka felt at peace just by looking at her. He took a moment to memorize her features before he gathered himself and slowly pulled away his hand, but just as he did it, Marinette stuck out her tongue and licked the back of his hand.

“Marinette!”, Luka shrieked, rubbing his hand on his jeans as the girl in front of him giggled again, “Ha! I got you!”, she garbled.

Luka didn’t bother to fight the soft expression forming on his face this time, he got up and pulled the now dishevelled covers on her as her giggles died down.

“Sleep, Mari”, he whispered softly, and Marinette brought the covers close to her face, letting out a happy sigh, “’Night Lu, thank you for being soooo lovely. You’re the best”.

Luka stood silent for a moment as Marinette closed her eyes, finally drifting to sleep.

He got lost in studying her features again, and this time he wasn’t able to resist the temptation to brush her cheek with his fingers. Her skin was soft and warm and her lips were slightly parted. There was a part of him that wanted to stay with her all night, hold her and make sure that she was okay and had everything she needed. But he couldn’t, and he felt like he had taken too much from her already.

He shook himself from his thoughts and got up, heading back to the living room.

It was after he left his room that he noticed that the music wasn’t playing anymore, and the only people he found in the room were Rose and Juleka. How long did he stay in his room with Marinette?

Luka took a bag and started throwing empty bottles and cups in it, intentionally avoiding his sister’s inquisitive gaze. He stood silent as he helped the two girls tidying up, trying to force himself not to think about what happened earlier.

He was doing fine until Juleka and Rose decided they were done with the cleaning and he had to tell them that Marinette was sleeping in his bed and not wake her up. Both Luka and Juleka had to hush Rose’s excited squeals, and he had to repeat that it wasn’t how it looked like for countless times before she calmed down and stopped saying how “Alya was right!”.

Did Luka want to know what she meant with that? Not really, so he just invited his sister and her girlfriend to go to sleep. Juleka didn’t make any comment, instead took Rose's hand and pulled her away with her.

Luka kept cleaning up with the sole purpose to distract himself from the fact that the girl of his dreams was sleeping in his bed looking like a goddess and drunkenly told him that she loved him. If only that was true. He should have been feeling tired, but all he could feel was the giddiness Marinette’s words gave him.

I will still love you tomorrow

I listen to you singing when I can’t sleep

I draw you

I really want to kiss you

I love you

The sun was rising when he finally let himself collapse on the couch, not bothering to cover himself with a blanket or even check his phone for unread messages.

Marinette’s voice was still ringing in his head. There was a small part of him that hoped for her words to be true, but he knew from experience that a drunk mind didn’t always speak a sober heart. And with that in mind, he let himself fall asleep.

It took Marinette a while to understand where she was when she woke up that morning, and the comforting scent of ocean salt and musk hit her before the nausea and the headache did. And if that wasn’t enough, as soon as she realized that she was in Luka’s room, the memories of the previous night came to her mind and... Shit.

She got up from the bed and groaned when she felt her head spin so hard that she had to sit back. The tights were making her skin itchy and the skirt she was wearing had raised, leaving her legs exposed. She closed her eyes, trying to find enough strength to get up and leave. Maybe she could transform and get home, didn’t Tikki say that her powers could cure weakened bodies? That was perfect! She’d transform and she’d already feel better, then she could get home and forget about everything she did the night before and no one would ask questions.

She wouldn’t even have to confront Luka about what she said to him and he’d forget about her being stupid. She just needed to find the strength to get up and leave and– but that wouldn’t have been fair to Luka, and the least she could do was tell him that she was sorry for having been... the way that she was the night before. She took him away from someone else and he had the patience to stay with her even when she shamelessly tried to hit on him. He had been so respectful to her, he deserved at least to know that she was grateful for him taking care of her. She just needed to not look at him in the eyes and let her embarrassment sink in her stomach, she’d have the whole afternoon to loathe about it anyway. Did she really tell him that she loved him?

Oh, this was not how she planned to tell him how she felt about him! And there was someone else in his heart now!

Marinette cringed at the thought and squeezed her eyes, massaging her temples.

When she opened her eyes again, she found some folded clothes and a toothbrush on the nightstand. Did Luka leave them there after she fell asleep? She felt her cheeks heat just thinking about the way he took care of her the night before, how she leaned on his gentle touch, how he had been delicate and sweet... and how she, on the other hand, had been a complete mess.

God, she had been so stupid.

She took a deep breath before finally getting up, grabbing the clothes and going to the bathroom to change, wash her face and brush her teeth. She put on the pair of black leggings that were probably Juleka’s and the forest green sweatshirt. The sleeves covered her hands, so she had to roll them up while she tried not to focus on the fact that the sweatshirt smelled just like the bed she woke up in.

She tied her hair in a messy bun, but avoided looking in the mirror, too ashamed of the judgemental look her reflection would have given her.

There was already Tikki to do that, anyway, and just as Marinette thought about her Kwami, she appeared by her side, the glint in her eyes matching more the god of Destruction than her, “I’m glad you allowed yourself to loosen up a little”, she chimed, and Marinette groaned.

“Why didn’t you stop me? Luka probably hates me now!”, Marinette whined and sat on the edge of the bathtub, putting her head in her hands.

This was awful, and confronting Luka was going to be a complete disaster.

Tikki shook her head and floated next to Marinette’s ear, “Believe me, Marinette, he could never hate you”.

Her words didn’t seem to reassure her, and Marinette looked down, letting her hands fall on her lap. What could she say to him now?

Hey I’m sorry I love you and I had to tell you that while drunk because I can’t even look at you in the eyes for too long when I’m sober?

I’m sorry I’m stupid and you had to deal with me all night?

It wasn’t until Tikki leaned her paw on her cheek that Marinette raised her head and got up, hoping that whatever damage she had done could be fixed, or that Luka was understanding enough to give her another chance. She faced her reflection on the mirror, fixing the mess that her hair had become and taking deep breaths, mentally preparing herself for the worse. When she finally opened the door and walked to the living room, she heard music coming from the galley.

Like handprints in wet cement, she touched me it’s permanent.

Luka was standing with his back turned to her, his head was bobbing to the rhythm as he stirred something on a bowl, “I cannot hide these feelings, I'd give up everything for you”, he hummed, his voice soft and low. Marinette gulped as she looked at him moving swiftly around the galley, putting the flour away in the cupboard and cleaning the counter. His hair was mussed and the way his t-shirt stretched on his body made her blush for the thoughts running through her mind, as if the headache wasn't enough. He was still singing when he turned on the stove and the sweet smell of pancakes filled the room, and Marinette didn’t dare to make her presence known, he was too lost in the music and she was enjoying watching him more than she’d admit.

She kept admiring him as he sang along to another song and turned to put a plate full of pancakes on the table, “I swear to God, I never fall in love, then you showed up and I– Oh”, his eyes widened, and he scrambled to get the phone from his pocket to stop the music.

“You’re awake”, he stated as the room went quiet, and Marinette felt her cheeks burn. She nodded slowly and looked at her feet, biting her lip hesitantly, she couldn’t look at him in the eyes, afraid of what she could see.

“How are you feeling?”, Luka asked, there was care in his voice and Marinette wished she could disappear right in that moment.

“I’m fine”, she said, fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt. Luka looked away from her, focusing his attention on his surroundings as he tried not to think how pretty she looked while wearing his clothes and being just herself.

“Do you feel like eating something?”, Luka broke his silence, and Marinette took a deep breath before turning her gaze on him. There was smudged make up under his eyes, and she felt her cheeks heat up again at the way he looked at her, “You’ve already done so much for me Luka, I don’t want to bother–”.

“You’re not bothering me”, Luka interrupted, and Marinette gulped as he pointed at the chair beside him and smiled at her reassuringly. She sat down and he moved the plate of pancakes to her before turning his attention to the stove, turning it back on and preparing his breakfast again. Marinette took one banana from the fruit bowl in front of her and started cutting it in slices, letting them fall on the food he’d prepared, “Eat it while it’s warm”, Luka said, putting a jar of honey and a bowl full of berries on the table.

Marinette nibbled the pancake slowly, giving Luka a grateful smile when he settled in front of her with his plate and a bottle of painkillers for her.

They ate in silence at first, and it was only when Marinette’s plate was half empty that she found the energy to speak, “Listen… Uh… About last night…”, she started, and Luka raised his head from his plate to look at her, “It’s okay, Marinette. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to”, he said, his voice as calm as ever.

Marinette swallowed and focused back on her plate, the silence that fell between them was uneasy and unnatural from what she was used to. It wasn’t right.

She emptied her plate in silence and took the medicine, downing it with some water before daring to glance at like again. When Luka finished his breakfast, he got up to take her plate.

“No, I’ll do it”, Marinette said, taking the plate before he did and getting up just as her head started spinning again. She stumbled in front of him, and Luka promptly caught her, putting his hands on her shoulders to steady her just as he did the previous night. Marinette felt her throat go dry as she looked up at him, she could feel his breath on her skin and it took more effort than she imagined to move to the side to put their plates in the sink.

Luka stood where she’d left him, keeping his warm gaze on her.

She couldn’t bear the awkwardness that came with staying with him, that wasn’t them. Being with him was so natural, it shouldn’t have been difficult now. She could tell him how she felt and then he’d talk and he’d be gentle even if he had to break her heart and Marinette would be okay eventually, right? Even if he wanted nothing to do with her later.

She felt her heart sink just at the thought, but it didn’t stop her from placing her hands on the counter, and taking a deep breath to gather herself. Then she finally turned to him, managing to look straight into his eyes, “I need to talk to you about last night”, she said slowly.

Luka nodded and walked to her, leaning his back against the counter and looking at her in the eyes, preparing himself for what he wasn’t ready to hear.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said last night.

He gulped, trying to focus only on her instead of what was going on inside his head.

“I–“, Marinette sighed, taking another deep breath before continuing, “This is not how I expected this to go. I mean, I never had the courage to talk to you about this until yesterday, and I thought I was finally ready to tell you everything, and I dressed up hoping to catch your attention because I wanted to feel… confident. I always feel confident around you, I just– I don’t know, this sounds stupid now. But I dressed up for you, and I hoped that you would notice me…”, she looked down.

“Marinette, I–”

“Let me finish first”, Marinette requested, “You didn’t even look at me, and I saw you with someone else and you kept avoiding me, so I thought that I missed my chance. And that if she makes you happy I don’t have any right to claim you. I just– I’m sorry for how I acted, and for being so stupid and for getting in the way. But… I need you to know that I meant what I said last night, it wasn’t the alcohol doing the talking. I love you, Luka”.

Luka’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. That was too much information to register at once, and he had to take a moment to just look at her and ask himself if he was dreaming again. There she was, Marinette leaving him speechless again.

“Listen, if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, I understand. I just had to tell you this once…”

“Marinette, I would never not want to talk to you”, Luka said promptly, and her mouth twisted when he looked at her. There was confusion in his eyes, and his expression seemed thoughtful.

God, he had so many things to say to her. Like how he couldn’t believe that she meant what she said, how she didn’t have to change to impress him because she was gorgeous and he could never take his eyes off her. (Yes, yesterday she blew up his mind, but that was another story and it didn’t help that someone who knew his weak spots had been hitting them all night before Marinette came to him.)

He wanted to tell her that he was sorry for avoiding her but he couldn’t bare stay in the same room as her without staring at her and how much he loved her and why would she think that he had a girlfriend in the first place?

“Do you think that if I were seeing someone, which to be clear, I’m not, I wouldn’t tell you?”, he asked.

Marinette lowered her head, “N-no… but you’ve stayed all night with that girl and you were all flustered and she’s hot and she’s just like you and I just– I assumed that you were a thing?”, she didn’t dare to say the word “girlfriend” because just the thought of it made her heart ache.

Luka couldn’t control the laugh that escaped from his lips, and Marinette raised her head to glare at him, “I’m serious Luka!”, she said, pushing him away.

That was enough for him to calm down, and his hands reached for her face, he looked at her in the eyes, amusement still clear in his voice, “You’re talking about the girl with red hair right? That’s my best friend”.

Marinette’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened as her mind processed the information, “Oh.”

Luka chuckled, and Marinette felt her cheeks burn so hard she had to cover her face with her hands, “I’m so sorry”, she said.

Luka was still smiling when he let his hands reach for hers and he gently pulled them away from her face, “Let me look at you, please”, he whispered, making Marinette shiver. She gulped when she faced him, the soft look in his eyes making her blush again.

His thumbs brushed the back of her hands as he looked for the words to say and comforted her at the same time.

“She was teasing me because of you”, he said eventually, “I got all stupid because I saw you and you looked so different I couldn’t stop staring at you or thinking how good you looked that I thought avoiding you was the best idea. You were mesmerizing, you always are. And you don’t have to change for me to like you because I like you the way you are. I just never expected you to wear anything close to that style so I was struck, and I started acting dumb.”, he concluded, letting out a deep breath.

Marinette’s mouth formed a small ‘o’. God, now she really felt stupid. If he wasn’t holding her hands, she would have slapped herself.

The way Luka was looking at her was making her heart pound loudly in her chest as she registered his words. He likes me. Luka likes me. Oh my God, he LIKES me.

“So… you like like me?”, she asked, hesitantly.

“I thought it was pretty clear by now”, Luka stated, taking one step towards her.

A wide grin spread on Marinette's face, and she tried to bit it down unsuccesfully. Luka didn’t turn his gaze away from her this time. Instead, he raised his hand to cup her cheek, enjoying the warmth she emanated.

“Just to make sure... You’re not mad at me for trying to hit on you while I was drunk, right?”

Luka gave her a fond smile and thumbed her cheek, “I couldn’t be even if I wanted to. Besides, you meant everything you said, right?”

Marinette blushed as she remembered all the words she said to him, but nodded, “Y-Yes...”, she breathed out, and when she looked into his eyes and saw that all of her feelings were reciprocated, she didn’t hesitate to let the words fall from her mouth again, “I love you, Luka”, and Luka answered pressing his forehead on hers, “I love you too”.

They stood in silence, enjoying each other’s presence quietly until Marinette placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned closer, “Can I kiss you now?”, she whispered, her gaze dropping to his red lips.

A wicked grin appeared on Luka’s face as he closed the distance between them, “Are you sure you’re not still drunk?”, he teased.

Marinette gasped and tried to shove him away unsuccessfully since he promptly grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, "I'm just kidding", he said, the happy smile not leaving his face.

She shook her head, but her breath caught in her throat as their eyes met again, and when he leaned in to finally kiss her, all Marinette could think about was how good his lips felt on hers.

#lbsc sprint fic challenge #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette fanfic #lukanette fic #ml

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scribble-scrabbles · 3 years

Text

{WP} Elements of a History Professor

Based on a reddit writing prompt. Part of a larger universe I am working on.

[WP] You are a powerful ancient wizard, masquerading as an unassuming, friendly and senile history teacher. But when a supervillain threatens your school, they learn to never underestimate senior citizens.

The wizened old woman had to sit in the front of the classroom nowadays, her bones were too sore to stand for the full day any longer. But she still loved teaching and would gladly do this for years to come, just to see the spark come into another student’s eye as they learned about Alexander the Great or Hannibal and his elephants. She patted her silver white hair, making sure every strand was secure in her bun, while her high school students strolled in, laughing and talking among themselves. They regarded her as a kind old eccentric, and often tried to get her onto tangents talking about the “forgotten stories” of history, that her students believed she concocted on the spot. She smiled to herself, thinking “If they only knew.”

The bell rang and the students continued to chat among themselves, as they often did in the period directly before lunch time. Ms. Green shifted herself, spine cracking dryly, to casually look out the window and into the beautiful spring day. She felt the light playing along her skin and smiled, and as she did the students began to quiet down. She took a deep breath, as though breathing in the warmth of the city below, and turned to smile at her class. They quieted to silence.

“Now, who can tell me where we were after last class?” she said, her old voice cracking with age and use.

One of her favorite students, a boy a bit too small for his age with shining blond hair raised his hand and was beginning to speak when there was a loud pop pop pop noise from outside, followed by a deafening roar. Ms. Green, or Theresa to her friends, snapped to attention, standing from her chair faster than any of her students would have considered possible, if they had been paying her any attention. The students closest to the windows were already exclaiming in fright and awe, as plumes of fire rose into the beautiful blue sky. Theresa hurried to the window, cursing the arthritis in her hips, and stared, dumbfounded, at the scene unfolding below.

This particular high school was situated just across the street from a bank, which now stood unrecognizable in a pillar of smoke and flames. Theresa’s eyes were drawn to a small figure robed in black, backing away from the building, a large backpack slung over one shoulder and flames shooting out of his hands, feeding the fire as he fled. She felt the power rolling off of him, and it felt wrong somehow. Not just angry but tinged around the edges with something that felt black and corrupted. She felt a shiver run up her spine as she explored that corruption and realized that it almost felt like something was helping him, or controlling him. This was no ordinary fire mage, and something was very, very wrong.

“Get away from the windows.” Ms. Green said, her voice firm. The class obeyed, but she stood her ground, watching the figure as two police cars already appeared on scene. He turned to the cars, bringing his hands together before throwing a large, molten ball of fire into the car closest to him. It exploded just as he was bringing his hands around to form another for the other car. You’re much too old for this, Theresa, let it be. Her fingers popped as she curled them into fists at her sides. Unless he threatens the students you can just let it be. She felt her power there, just on the edge of her senses, and willed it away. It had been centuries since she had touched it, just so she could feel herself grow old as the mortals did and experience history the way the mortals always would. All she had to do was ignore it and these centuries would not have been wasted. All the figure below had to do was turn and run the other way. But she knew, deep down in her ancient bones, that was not the way it would happen today. She was not meant to ignore her calling forever. And she could not let these students, her students, suffer the wrath of this wild little fire mage.

The fire mage turned and ran towards the school building as more police cars began pouring into the street. Theresa turned and ran to the door.

“Out! Down the back stairway. Run, and don’t stop. He may set this whole building ablaze.” She waited until her students were all safely out the door, and then she hurried to the front steps to meet this little vagabond who had disturbed her centuries of rest. She twisted and cracked her neck as she reached for the power she had kept locked away for far too long, feeling it rush into her veins and restoring her strength. The earth began to tremble beneath her, as she took the stairs two at a time, redirecting anyone as she went to the back stairs of the building and telling them to run. One student, a clever girl from her first period World History class, stopped to gape at her and she pushed her back towards the crowd, ushering her to go. She smiled, knowing that the tendrils of power she drew on were already reversing her wrinkles and returning color to her hair.

She saw him then, wearing a plain black cloak that anyone could get from a party store. Underneath he wore jeans and worn out sneakers, and she thought she spied a flame of red hair underneath the hood. Fire crackled between his hands as he sent small wisps of flame out to lick and scare the children closest to him. Rage boiled through Theresa and the ground rumbled.

“ENOUGH!” she bellowed, and thick green vines shot from the floor and grasped the villain’s hands, anchoring him to the spot. “You will leave this school and my students alone, child, or you will regret the day you were born.” Her voice growled and echoed around the hall, despite the noise and confusion of the running students. Everyone halted to look at her in bewilderment. The robed man laughed and shook the hood free from his tangled red hair, a sneer across his sharp, pointed face. “Cute trick, grandma.” He sneered, fire leaping from him to burn her vines to ash. “But I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t think an old lady like you can do much to stop me, despite your cute parlor tricks.” Flames encircled him, popping and cracking, as he drew a ball of fire into his hands and hurled it towards her face. A pillar of stone rose in front of her and the fireball struck, sizzling to nothing. “Oh, my dear.” She said, waving her hand and turning the pillar to dust that began to orbit around her slowly. The ground beneath them shifted and moved, pushing the students out of the line of fire and building a barrier between them and the coming fight. “You have no idea who you’ve crossed.”

“I think I can handle an old earth mage.”

She waved her hands and the earth moved beneath her, cracking the floor of the school into long shards that she brought up to orbit around her. Crystals coalesced out of the ground, and she took one into her hand, letting the others float beside her. He closed her eyes and breathed, loving the feel of power coursing through her and wondering how she had gone without it for so long. Her young opponent took that moment to strike, but her dust cloud merged into a shield, easily deflecting the flames that seemed to be growing deeper red. He snarled at her, stepping closer, and she shot a dart of flooring towards him, a warning shot more than an outright attack. He dodged and continued towards her, hands outstretched and she felt the heat trying to melt her shield of rock into lava.

“Clever.” she smiled, pulling the particles apart and dissipating the heat. He growled and pushed his flames forwards, surprising her. She formed a shield of crystal, but not before the flames licked at her skirts and burned her ankles. She cursed in surprise and rocked the ground beneath him, making him fall and causing all of the fire to die. Before he could rise, she formed a cage around him, bars of stone and bits of concrete, hewn in haste. He shot a bolt of darkening flame between the bars, and she dodged. She was beginning to get a better feel of his power now, but also the corruption, playing at the edges of his spells. Probing it gave her a sick feeling in her stomach.

He shot more fire towards her, a deep burgundy red and she began to turn the bars of his cage into walls. All she had to do was keep him contained long enough for the children to get to safety and the police to come into the building. She didn’t have to fight him. Fighting was not much in her nature, after all. Earth was an element of peace and healing, and she hated the idea of killing a child, especially one who may not be acting of just his own influence.

The cage exploded and the mage stood, bellowing, darkening fire licking every inch of his body. He snarled at her and threw flames towards her in a wild, barely controlled wave. She cursed again and threw a whirling gale of rock and debris towards him, striking him and hurling him to the ground. The corruption at the edges of his power had grown rapidly, turning his flames from orange to red to nearly black. Her mind whirled, thinking of what could possibly be exerting that much control in such a small span of time, and she didn't like her options.

She threw out a hand and raised an earth elemental, the size of a large human, and sent it lumbering towards him. Vines sprouted from the ground, entangling his feet and grasping for his arms as he raised his hand and black fire appeared at her feet. She growled and pushed the earth beneath her to hurl her away from the flames, turning her hands and willing poison into her vines. A paralytic and a mild sedative, she thought, nothing too potent now. He gasped and writhed, setting black flame to the vines and struggling free. The elemental pounded on his arms, destroying the fire and breaking his hands as he gave an agonized scream. Theresa felt the last of his fire magic give way to the corruption beneath. Darkness flowed from his fingers, thick and swirling, moving towards her like snakes. She sucked in a breath and shot herself into the sky on a pillar of rubble and vines. This was very, very bad.

The mage rose, dark flames pouring out of him, turning her elemental into molten sludge. He roared in rage, ignoring his broken fingers and sending flames and darkness hurtling towards her, his eyes as black as night. She dropped the pillar, cushioning her fall, then throwing her hands up to form a crystal shell around herself as the dark amalgam poured over her. She stared at the boy, knowing that whatever corruption he had played with had now consumed him entirely. He wasn't a mage anymore, but a monster, fire and dark, slithering tendrils pouring off of him like water and inundating her bubble of protection.

Her mind raced, thinking of various ways of disabling him without killing him, when she saw a tendril of darkness slip around the barrier and grap a student around the middle and lift her into the air. More tendrils shot towards the barriers, and Theresa stopped thinking.

In a rush of rage, she rose two enormous stone giants beside the mage and raised their fists to smash him. He dropped the students and redirected his attacks to the two elementals, darkness and flames swirling around them. She pushed the ground beneath him, launching him into the air, then drew it away suddenly, watching him plummet to the ground. Vines and thorns burst through the earth, ensnaring him and pushing poison into his veins. They pulled and tore at him, as the elementals raised their fists again and brought them down, hurling him to the ground. The vines held him fast as the fists came down again and again, dust billowing out around them. Theresa held up her hands and they stopped, as she slowly approached the writhing mass of vines, now coated with dark and spreading blood.

Sightless, black eyes stared up as she withdrew the vines and they slithered back into the earth. Theresa shuddered, kneeling beside the corpse and feeling for a pulse, then for breath. She surveyed his broken body and felt a wave of sorrow wash over her, pricking tears into her eyes.

A flash of movement caught her eye, and she watched with growing dread as the last few tendrils of darkness dripped from his broken fingers, scattering amongst the smoke and ashes. A black substance oozed like blood out of one ear, and was coagulating on the ground, stretching towards her where she knelt. She leapt up, face twisted in revulsion as it also began to smoke and dissipate.

With a final shudder, she turned and began walking towards the side entrance of the school. She wasn't sure what exactly she had witnessed, but she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she must find her sisters. Without meeting anyone's eyes, she strode out into the chaos of the street and let herself disappear.

#reddit writing prompts #reddit #wizard #earth magic #earth mage #dark mage #fire mage #old becomes young #writing #creative writing #fiction #original fiction #original fantasy

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kassies-take · 4 years

Text

Kane Vs Luthor

SuperBat^2 (Kara/Kate) all earths have merged so Batwomans Gotham and Supergirls National City exist on the same earth (Star City also exists next to NC as does Central City so Kate gets a Costume from Cisco and Kara gets a device from him so she can become more human when she needs to) Kate and Lena end up in a battle of wits while trying to take over CatCo. Humour/Serious/Romance/NSFW

A/n: I don’t know how this gonna go down but thank you for giving me the opportunity to try something new. I also don’t know what you mean by take over Catco? Did you want the two CEOs to try to buy Catco for Kara? Ooh ideas just popped into my head!

Warnings:

SuperBat^2, Supercorp, (Insert ship name for Lena and Kate)

Word Count: 1966

Kara had hope. She is the Paragon of Hope after all. After Crisis she desperately wanted to have a certain Luthor by her side again. Back when flowers filled her office, back when brunch was a weekly thing, back when she could’ve shared her secret, back when they were best friends. But the Luthor, the Luthor wanted nothing to do with the Super after her betrayal and hurt.

Kate, Paragon of Courage. Batwoman had the courage to come out as a lesbian to all of Gotham, and confront her past. All with a bit of help from the Girl of Steel, now it was her turn to repay the favor.

A knock interrupted Kara’s staring contest with the refrigerator. She lowered her glasses and looked towards the door. A benefit to having x-ray vision, no peep hole needed.

“Kate?” Kara walked towards the door. “What are you doing here?” She moved out of the way to let the brunette in.

“We spent the beginning of crisis looking for the Paragon of Courage together, and the later half stuck in the Vanishing Point together. You have the same face of lost hope, when you video called for Batwoman’s coming out, like the one then. Thought I come by and check on you.”

“W-What about Gotham?”

“The Crows have Alice, Gotham can last a few days without the bat. It lasted three years before. And if the city really needs Batwoman, the World’s Finest would be there.” Kate opened Kara’s fridge for a beer and walked towards the blonde on the couch. “So.”

“What?” Kara grabbed the remaining potstickers from her coffee table and began to stuff her mouth trying to avoid the elephant in the room.

“What has made the Girl of Steel lose a bit of hope?” Kate asked while pointing the bottle top at Kara before she grabbed the bottleneck to open the beer with her bat-a-rang.

“Lex is running the D.E.O now and the whole world thinks he’s this... hero.”

“Lex Luthor a major dick huh,” Kate sat down next to Kara.

“You have no idea. I want to know what he’s up to.”

“Well we know Lex Luthor is a psychopathic lunatic, who wants to take over the world,” Kate took a sip.

“I know that, but...”

“What is his plan?”

The two sat quietly in Kara’s loft trying to think of ideas of Lex’s plan. That was until Kate spotted a picture in Kara’s open journal.

“Who is this?” Kate teased as she held up the photo of Kara and Lena.

“Lena, she was my best friend.”

“Was?”

“She’s Lex’s sister. But she’s not like him or the rest of the family, she’s good. Before Crisis I betrayed her, kept the biggest secret from her. Lex told her. She had a mission to make sure no one could hurt each other again, because I had hurt her when everyone in her life had already done so. She told me, all those times I checked in on her at her office, during brunch, game night and each one of those times she told me about her Achilles heel. And now, now she’s got her wish that I experience the same thing she has. She wouldn’t even look at me now, and she’s working with Lex.”

“Were you two close?”

“When I was around her I didn’t have to feel like I had to be Supergirl. I was normal, and I didn’t have to worry about the weight of the world on my shoulders.”

“Like she’s the only one who truly knows you, and not your alter ego. Yeah I know how you feel.”

“Luke?”

“Ex-girlfriend actually. Sophie Moore which gives me the impression that she is more than a friend to you.”

“She’s my best friend, she’s my family.”

Kate froze and stared, eyebrows furrowed at the oblivious girl in front of her.

“I appreciate you coming here, Kate. I don’t mean to kick you out but I have work in the morning and Andrea would not be happy if I’m late.”

“Tomorrow is a Saturday, you could help me on my suit though.”

“You brought your suit here?”

“Well no, but Cisco said my suit ‘is too last crisis’” Kate used quotations as she said it.

“Huh maybe Cisco could help me with something.”

“You already have an upgrade on your suit, did you want another one?”

“Oh no, a gadget actually or something you know to help me feel more human. To be Kara Danvers and not Kara Zor-El or Supergirl.”

“Like forever?”

“Just when I want to be.”

The World’s Finest Duo entered Star Labs greeted with hugs and shouts. The shouts were mainly by Cisco, he was excited to show off the new bat suit.

“Ta-da!” Cisco pulled off the white sheet in the main corridor.

Barry had his arms crossed, as Caitlyn and Iris turned their heads to the side, Kara’s eyebrows creased together with her mouth slightly open, and Kate was the only one with courage to speak the truth.

“What’s the difference between this and my old suit.”

Cisco gasped in mock hurt. “Excuse me, your old suit may have Kevlar armor, damage recording, night vision lenses, and a defibrillator. But this! This baby can fly!”

The suit began to levitate as Cisco gushed at his own creation.

“And what if it runs out of battery?” Kate asked. “I wouldn’t want to fall out of the sky.”

“I’m glad you asked,” Cisco pointed to Kate before he tapped something on his tablet. “Kinetic storage! Everytime you move in the suit it charges it AND BAM nanotechnology! You can get to scenes quicker!”

“That’s so cool!” Kara smiled.

“Come on let’s try this baby out!” Cisco drummed his hands against the shoulder of the suit. “Barry has the ring, Kara has the glasses, J’onn with his shape shifting, and you, you get a necklace!”

“A necklace? Really Cisco?” Iris shrugged.

“Yeah yeah it’s all Black Pantery, not that origin-“

“I was hoping for more of a pizzazz,” Iris waved her hands in the air, displaying jazz hands.

“Okay, I see how it is. You try improving a suit that was already impressive.” Cisco sassed.

Ralph walked in moments later. “Oh hey, love the new suit Cisco, I’ve got info on our meta.”

“Thank you! At least someone has an eye for beauty.”

“Alright, Ralph and I will check it out.” A gust of wind blew around the corridor.

Cisco asked Kate for her birthstone necklace and placed some emitter on the back of it. “When you need the suit it’ll know.”

The suit slowly appeared on Kate’s body as the whole room now found it impressive.

“And for my favorite Kryptonian.” Cisco held out a bracelet.

“Is this blue Kryptonite?” Kara asked.

“So based on our existing world history, not only does blue K not affect you like Bazzaro, it can also suppress Kryptonian powers. When you whip off your glasses for your suit to materialize, the lead lined glasses would engulf the blue K letting you become Super. Superbat 2.0. Try them on, and see how it works.”

“So you want Kara to punch me while I fly away.”

“Okay when you put it like that, it makes it sound less interesting.”

Kara and Kate thanked Cisco after their test run. Things went back to normal, well as normal is it can get with the World’s Finest, for the next eight weeks. Andrea decided to focus more on Obsidian North than on Catco, therefore selling it with two potential buyers. Lena Luthor and Kate Kane.

Ms. Kane and Ms. Luthor continuously went back and forth without giving Ms. Rojas the ability to jump in and agree or disagree with the two other billionaires in the room.

“Okay, I’m going to go to the editorial meeting. You ladies should figure this out between the two of you before you come to me of who is buying and at what price. I don’t even care if it is less than what I bought it for, just get Catco out of my hands.”

“1 billion,” Lena crossed her arms in and leaned against her chair.

“Is that how much you’re willing to pay for Catco?” Kate asked.

“I don’t care about how much money I pay for it as long as I can make Kara happy.”

“So you are buying Catco for it’s Pulitzer prize winning reporter.”

Lena was confused, as far as she knew Kara Danvers never got a Pulitzer prize, not since the multiverse was changed. So how could this insignificant real estate, tattoo covered asshole from Gotham know about what wasn’t even possible.

“The lines on your forehead indicate that you are confused. That or you are just getting old,” Kate smirked. “And to answer your old lady confusion, Kara and I saved the multiverse, along with that no good brother of yours. Which you still work with despite the reality of his psychotic mind.”

“Working with Lex was the only way I could keep an eye on him without causing any suspicions and to protect Superfriends from his ultimate plan.”

“Yet your plan was to sit around while he did awful things?”

“What more could I have done? Sleep around with someone while being in love with someone else?” Lena called out Kate.

It was Kate’s turn to be speechless.

“Don’t think I don’t know Ms.Kane. You have all these tattoos to show you don’t care and is a player but deep down you really care for someone.”

“I could say the same for you Ms. Luthor. It is not all that surprising that you brought up sleeping with someone else and loving someone while we talk about Kara. That every time you are in a room with Kara, your eyes subtly move towards her arms or how you unconsciously bite your lip.”

“What goes on in my mind about Kara has nothing to do with this.”

“It takes one to know one, Luthor. I’m just stating the facts.”

The room fell into silence for the first time since the younger Kane and the younger Luthor walked into the office. That was until a happy, beaming Golden Retriever walked into the room.

“Kate! You’re here!” Kara ran to give her a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Andrea is selling Catco, wanted to see my chance of getting it. But it seems I have competition.” Kara followed Kate’s line of sight and noticed Lena.

“Lena! You’re here!” Kara ran towards Lena before she hesitated to give her a hug. Before the whole betrayal there would’ve been no hesitation but now, now she didn’t know what the right thing to do was.

“I am, and when I buy it back. You will be editor in chief.”

“No need to kiss ass, Luthor. We are both trying to buy Catco for the same reason.”

“What is that reason?” Kara smiled.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear Kara. You’re the one with super hearing.” Lena whispered dangerously close to Kara’s ear.

“I-uh. I got a. I got a device from Cisco. He made something for me so I wouldn’t constantly need to control my strength and be human like you guys.”

“Well feel free to use all your strength with me.” Lena bit Kara’s earlobe before she walked away.

“I’ll tell Andrea, I’m buying then?”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m not going to make it that easy.”

“Kate please save me.” Kara was redder than a tomato.

“I think you should follow her.”

“You’re right. I’ll go do that.”

Andrea walked in the moment Kara left. “So it turns out Lena is buying Catco?”

“Huh what, okay,” Kate did not realize she agreed to Lena buying Catco. She was confused with how that whole thing played out.

#supercorp #superbat^2 #kate kane x lena luthor #kara danvers #kate kane #lena luthor #barry allen #iris west allen #caitlin snow #cisco ramon #ralph dibny #andrea rojas #supergirl #supergirl imagines #supergirl imagine #batwoman #batwoman imagines #batwoman imagine #arrowverse

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70swonderpoisonstark · 5 years

Text

Wait, you survived? ( IV )

// You and Steve survive the plane wreck and end up seventy years in the future. Everything’s different and the only person that understands the confusion and pain of losing your entire world is your now dead husband’s best friend. When the two of you are forced to adapt to the world around you, things can get complicated. //

The love that lasts longest

is the love that is never returned.

____________________________________________________________________

Little did you and Steve know, that would be the last normal morning you guys would have.

While Steve was away one late night at the old gym down the road, a stranger dropped off a hefty file for the two of you to go over. You were confused at first, but as you opened the first page you understood entirely.

There it was, Red Skull's secret weapon. The bright blue cube seemed to shine even on paper, it's icy hue the only thing Howard had pulled out of the ocean in his search for the two of you. You said goodbye to the stranger, noting his underlying awe as his monotone words escaped his lips. Coulson. You thought to yourself. I need to remember that one.

You threw the pages around the living room, arranging them in a way that would only make sense to you. You studied them thoroughly, memorizing every page, noting which subjects you needed to brush up on. In a word, it was amazing. Unlike anything you'd ever seen, the energy readings on the cube alone were enough to power... well a lot of things. Clean energy was just the start of what this could do, and you'd seen the deadly weapons it created up close and personal. They should've left this thing in the ocean. You analyzed the radiation readings, small levels of gamma? You couldn't help but think about all the machines you'd seen this thing power. All the people it had destroyed effortlessly. It was terrifying and exciting all at the same time.

By the time Steve had walked in you had thrown your hair up in a ponytail, and were currently chewing on a pencil, drowning in the papers Steve was told about previously. He chuckled at the mess you were at the center off; not only were you reading the confidential files, but also Astrophysics, electromagnetism, circuit waves, optics, and imaging, and advanced engineering thermodynamics textbooks.

"Wanted to do some light reading while I was gone?" His voice startled you, lost in thought you hadn't noticed he'd come in.

"The science, the calculations, the absolute magnitude of these readings and what they could mean for the human race is... Steve we should've held onto that thing." Exasperated you explain the significance of the power this cube held. It was indescribable.

Steve listened as you explain theories and ideas far out of his pay grade. He was fully invested in the conversation, trying to understand the words you were sayings, but kept losing concentration. He'd hear your sentences, but become fixated on your lips, how red and sweet they looked as you talked faster than a bullet, he'd envision the structural mass of what you were explaining, but get lost in the deep passion he saw in your eyes. You sure were pretty when you were talking all smart like that.. STEVE STOP. He heard his inner voice screaming at him to stop, to drag his attention back to the topic at hand, to listen and pay attention solely because you were a genius and had intelligent things to say, and not because of the way you spoke sounded like pure music to his ears. The tugging at his heart strings had to stop, he forced himself to be objective to be attentive. He could feel a line being crossed with every distracted glance. He had to focus, he had to stop doing whatever it was his heart was trying to do.

By the end of the night the two of you went to bed, knowing in the morning there would be a car to pick the two of you up for a mission. You laid in bed, counting down the minutes to when you'd need to be awake and ready. The thought of being back in the field was a rush, like a kid on christmas morning you tossed and turned with excitement, trying to sleep but unable by the jitters. Sleep was something you'd become very used to not having. After doing so for 70 years, you lose the need, or at least that's what you and Steve had agreed on. You wondered if he was sleeping right now, if he was able to rest knowing the two of you were going back to the old days of fighting side by side.

You had decided on a black and white satin paisley button up tucked into high waisted black jeans with an obnoxiously cute belt, and red heels. You were about to meet some of the smartest and highly skilled people in the world, you had to look the part they'd probably been told about. You curled your hair into a traditional, or now called 'vintage', updo and applied a casual amount of makeup. This wasn't a formal business meeting, but it was important to you that this group of people saw you, a woman, as a person of high stature, you were, afterall, one of the most brilliant people of your time. Plus, you'd always had a crush on Howard, so meeting his son was giving you a small bit of anxiety. You walked out of your room, Steve had on his regular plaid shirt and brown leather jacket, some things never change.

"You look amazing." Steve said sweetly. It was true, he loved how you kept a piece of the 40's with you no matter what you had on.

"Thanks. You look good too, not as good as me, but still." You winked, the butterflies in your stomach settling as you took his arm on your way out the door. A black car was waiting for the two of you out front to take you to headquarters to fly to a secret SHIELD location to meet the people you'd be working with to locate HYDRA's secret weapon.

The plane ride was short, and besides Agent Coulson failing at concealing his excitement at seeing Steve, uneventful as well.

Steve stepped out of the jet first, raising his arm to help you as you descended the stairs down from the plane.

"Ma'am." He'd said formally to Agent Romanoff. They made small talk, and you'd noticed how normal she was compared to her file, funny even too. She walked you over to Dr. Banner and you readied yourself for the hundredth time for all of this hero stuff.

Steve squeezed your hand as he spoke with Agent Romanoff. He knew large groups like this had never been your forte, and wanted to reassure you that everything was going to be okay. Man you couldn't have looked better, but he was always thinking that nowadays, as friends, of course. He watched as you mentally prepared yourself to meet all these prestigious people. He could feel your pulse beating on his arm as Agent Romanoff introduced herself to you, and watched as your facial expression subtly contorted from nervous and terrified to strong and confident in a matter of minutes.

You both shook hands with Dr. Banner, his research was fascinating and elaborate, but nothing you hadn't been able to follow. He was brilliant and you held back on completely nerding out with him in the first five minutes you'd met the guy.

"Is that the, only word on me?" Dr. Banner had asked, he'd shifted his gaze downward and was fiddling with his hands.

"Only word we care about." You said, locking your eyes into his. You knew his backstory, everybody did, but you didn't care, even if he had turned into that thing right then and there you wouldn't have been scared. He was a Doctor first and you knew deep down somewhere that he needed to be reminded that he was a good person too.

"Must be strange for you two, all of this." Dr. Banner said. You looked around, your surroundings slowly merging into images of the past, jogging in full uniform, checking engine performance, analyzing battle strategies. Steve answering pulled you back into reality, you walked into the main room of what was apparently the largest plane you'd ever seen and sat. Steve walked up to Fury and handed him a ten. You gave him a peculiar look, wondering why he was just handing out money like that.

"Agent Romanoff, would you escort Dr. Banner and Dr. Barnes to their laboratory."

"You're gonna love it Doc, we've got all the toys." She lead you through a series of winding hallways, armed soldiers were making rounds as you found yourselves the secluded lab.

"Here you are, send a message if you two need anything." Agent Romanoff smiled and left you and Dr. Banner alone in the lab. You stared at the floor, you were great with people, normally, but when it came to people you admired things became complicated. You turned into Steve basically. You moved to your station, beginning work almost as quickly as Dr. Banner.

"Spectrometers make all this a lot easier." You said, breaking the hour long silence that had stayed between the two of you. "Back in the old days you had to try and use radar and an algorithm that tracked fluctuations in the earth's natural gravity to be even be able to find some type of radiation or energy source."

"That sounds extensive, how did they even write an algorithm like that?"

"Oh, it was easy really, I reprogrammed an old radar prototype Howard built to track abnormal energy waves depending on the terrain and weather while factoring in geographical information from the past three years and seeing where they differentiated."

"In the fifties?" He said, disbelief coating his words as he looked at you explain such an advanced piece of machinery. Astounded as he realized you were the sole creator of the science it took to run it. No wonder you were the first woman on the front lines of war.

"Late thirties, early forties but yeah way before all this." You shrugged and kept working, happy that you'd finally made conversation with the Doctor after all this time.

"You really are as good as they say." After that your mind settled, you and Dr. Banner, Bruce as you were to call him now, had a silent agreement that working together would be a breeze, and that the respect and admiration between the two of you was mutual. It wasn't until hours later when a skinny man dressed in an extravagant green coat stole your attention that the two of you left the lab. You'd been called back into the main room.

"It's a stabilizing agent, means, the portal won't collapse on itself like it did at SHIELD." He walked over to the very large, hunk of a man and smacked him on the arm. "No hard feelings pointbreak, you've got a mean swing." Stark. All those butterflies from before had started fluttering around again as he spoke. He was smarter than his Dad, you could tell that from the moment he'd started talking. Just as much of a smart ass, if not more. When half the room stared at him blankly he explained himself.

"Last night. Packet, Selvig's notes, the extraction theory papers. Am I the only one who did the reading?"

"Does Loki need any kind of particular power source?" Steve. Your eyes darted towards him, he looked like he'd just been in a fight. Not a bad one, but he was still going to get an ear full from you when you had a moment. You refocused your attention to the conversation, calculating energy readings and quantum physics into how you'd be able to get the cube to do any particular thing.

"He would have to heat the cube to 120 million kelvin just to break through the coulomb barrier." You sputtered, suddenly drawing the attention of almost every person in the room.

"Unless Selvig has figure out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect." Tony continued, fascinated by you immediately.

"Well, if he could do that he could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet." Bruce was tracking with the conversation, the three of you figured out exactly what was needed in a matter of seconds.

"Finally, people who speak english."

"Is that what just happened?"

You stood in your spot as Tony talked to Bruce, all you'd heard from their conversation was 'enormous green rage monster' and then he was over to you.

"Dr. Barnes, I've heard so many stories. Besides Mom, I don't think Dad listened to anybody else. Huge fan. Can't wait to watch you pick apart all my ideas." He shook your hand. Genuinely smiling at you.

"I understood that reference." An eye roll from Tony after a small moment of connection for Steve. All of this science was entirely over his head, he knew the basics but the way you Tony and Bruce were talking was out of his league. He was just happy he'd finally understood something. He made eye contact with you and you giggled, he was adorable when he was clueless.

"Shall we play, Doctors?"

"This way, sir." The three of you scuttled to the lab, Tony unpacked what looked like an entire lab out of a suitcase and you three went to town.

// I’m having so much fun with this concept and have so many ideas on where to take this, you’re gonna love it! Shoutout again to @lunathepettuna for being an awesome human being and inspiring me to write this, love you doll!!

Let me know what you guys think, what you’d like to see, and some crazy vocab words and I’ll write accordingly, thanks for the read, and stay groovy man! //

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incarnateirony · 5 years

Text

So anyway, life updates on what I’ve talked about good, bad, and vagueblog.

But I introduce you to Betty White, or the Millennium Falcon, name pending.

Most of yall know that I’m on disability, dealing with some massively janky medical issues that Alabama’s bottom-ranked health care system doesn’t even know how to cover, and my wifey blew a disc in her neck at work, essentially debilitating her, too, but also earning a small settlement. In scale of it, 25K -- 21 after lawyer fees -- isn’t really much to do anything with.

So we had already known we had to fix up and sell the house and thought, hey, the land value went up substantially out here, we can pocket and flip it and be hella good.

Until her father finally came out here and in long story short, found out that the inspector that ran through this house when my wife first bought it (during our breakup period YEARS ago) didn’t do his job and it’d be 20-30K worth of repairs to even sell this place at the value her loan is for, meaning we pretty much have to short sell it to get out from under it. I mean bad shit. Fire hazard wiring and rotting roof and siding element under shiny things that hid it that have clearly been deteriorating since long before the house got a lipstick job.

So we went and found an RV, because it’s time to go. We have to GO. We have to get out of this state. There’s nothing for us here. There’s no medical care, there’s no worker protections, being LGBT women we’re extra up a creek in the area, it’s just bad. So RV it was! But finding one in the now suddenly cramped budget with the house turning up bunk entirely was FUN.

But like a stroke of providence I happened to find a listing the day it was upgraded on what has been jokingly referred to by my friends as the Millennium Falcon of RVs.

It came from an older couple, almost 60, that had been RVing for a few years, and the thing was already used when they bought it. It’s a friggin 1994. It’s old, it’s Chonk. But it was a project RV they decided to start on and while it has a solid AF 454 engine in it,

they’ve over a few years put in just about New Everything. New transmission, new air brakes, new air bags, new radiator, new septic lines, new alternator, new battery, new steering and suspension, new new new new new. Modified backup camera that tracks engine temp/tire pressure/etc like modern dashes and stays on constantly instead of just when backing up. It has its little hijinks with the in-n-out stairs being funky and the generator is a funny little bit because they didn’t want to spend 8K+ on a generator for an old RV so they got one that’s an external mount, which I imagine is why it was having a hard time selling.

Atop that inside the wife went bananas and got rid of the shitty old wallpaper and painted it bright colors different on every wall, removed the space consuming fold out couch since they didn’t need an extra bed and installed an armoire-storage-couch-thing that takes up half the outter floor space, stuff like that.

This was their baby and they intended to keep this baby and did great work on this baby, and the second I saw it in the advert, I knew it, because the images weren’t all spit cleaned sales stuff, it was vacation images with their shit still hanging inside it and their party lawn with their sports teams and stuff and the shiny lights they added on it to make it a party bus like

So anyway it turned out they basically got conned into getting a newer shinier one and just wanted to get the fuck OUT of Alabama but because of the generator and age it wasn’t selling at market value which was about 15K even as old as it is, and had price gouged it down to *8500*

Thought it was too good to be true, got our old construction and mechanic friend go out out there and go over it with a fine toothed comb and this thing, as he put it “goddamn if I had the money, I’d buy it myself, what the hell, you ain’t gonna get anything better for that price, hell, you ain’t gonna get anything as good for the price” THEY JUST WANTED TO GET OUT OF ALABAMA. And I mean, MOOD, BIG MOOD.

In fact the money they were asking for was basically to pay off loans and costs on all the New Stuff they put into it to begin with.

Because of them basically gouging their asking price in half an old lady had come to see it same day and at first the husband was like WHOEVER GETS US THE MONEY FIRST but talking to us the wife was like HELL NO THAT OLD LADY COULD BARELY GET IN THE THING SHES JUST GONNA DRIVE IT DOWN TO FLORIDA AND LET IT ROT THIS IS OUR BABY THESE GIRLS NEED TO TAKE CARE OF IT AND THEY WILL and she ran interference through the weekend until our mechanic friend could go check it out.

You might ask “if you have a buttload of money why an RV” but in trying to get out of Alabama and all the way back to Oregon where I literally KNOW I can make it work out in life for us, for reasons that are a whole story unto themselves, the moving costs cross country alone for a uhaul would be expensive AF. Downpayments. Finding pet friendly apartments. And then whether it was portland or somewhere else we could get STUCK. And we’re tired of getting stuck. So we’re packing up our own FUCKING house that we FUCKING own outright that fucking NOBODY can take away from us and with NO payment obligations and FUCK THE SYSTEM.

So anyway this big fuckin honker the wife was like WHY ARE YOU SO COMFORTABLE DRIVING THIS to Shea, but Shea worked for both Uhaul and Hertz so like hauling bigassed trucks around was kinda her thing and she also worked horses so giant ass horse trailers, you name it. So she just got up in there like she belonged and next thing you know we’re doing 65 down the bendy ass mountain freeways of central alabama like we been doing it for years

PS when you are in a literal fucking house 65 feels like 90, I’m just letting you know that now.

We’re still at our house cuz we gotta get this properly under our own tag/insurance and get a tow for the car. It was funny though cuz experienced or not knowing it was OUR LITERAL HOUSE Shea started like GOTTA BE CAREFUL GOTTA BE CAUTIOUS GOTTA MAKE SURE NOBODY DUMB and it turned into GET OUT THE WAY FUCKERS I’LL WIN within the 120 mile haul back home. Like BITCH I’LL TAKE MY FOOT OFF THE GAS BUT I AINT GONNA TRY TO JACK RABBIT STOP THIS FUCKER SO YOU BETTER GET SOME GIDDYUP IF YOU GONNA MERGE YOU FRIGGIN HONDA

This beast only has 65K miles on it. And that sounds like a lot but for an RV that isnt S H I T. People are like, if you can find a used one under 100K you’re doing okay. Half of those miles are just taking it out for a jog because you’re supposed to drive it once every couple weeks to keep it from rusting out basically. They just safely drove it in like a tristateish area down here for a few years as you can see on the cabinet stickers and moved around to sports games and shit and had fun.

The bedroom is purple. The kitchen is blue and yellow. KJSDKJFSjk she was like “Fuck the 1990 floral wallpaper we updating, there’s extra paint in one of the storage bins if you wanna touch any of it up”

So that’s it. We’re gonna do some work with said mechanic friend on the AC and a few tweaky details and as said, gotta tag/insurance/tow but once we get that worked out, that’s it, that’s home starting in a few weeks.

We’re heading to Independence, Missouri first to touch base with my internet momma then swinging in Salt Lake City to meet old media friends like the folks at Arrowstorm and stopping to enjoy their stuff at Evermore Park before hitting Portland which, reasonably, I’ll guestimate we’ll be at like a week or two before Halloween but maybe we’ll make better time. If you’re en route to those destinations and wanna meet up, lemme know, we’re still gonna have fun on the way and try to record shit.

Portland is the city I know how to work to and from the bone. I can turn any quarter into at least a dollar there, quite literally; I know how to eat eight times a day for free if need be. I reasonably think we can stay WELLLLLLLL above the line of needing that kind of assistance but because Shea is very anxiety driven to know we outright have a promised home and have promised food if worst case scenarios happen really made her go, you know what, fuck it, sure, Portland, you loved Portland, the wages are good in Portland, let’s do Portland.

If we start with dry camping at locations with free plug ups even still paying for Shea’s car and insurance, once major gas costs GETTING there are done, we’ll be running about 500 a month, and again, that’s including insurance for both vehicles and paying off her car note. Depending on the lot we land at, 700-900 a month. I can float that on my casual residual income. Everything after that is profit. Everything after that is success. I refuse to let Shea be anything less than Okay, but most of all, weird and nonconformative as it is, everything after this is scales of success. Hell minus the car note we’d be under 600/mo on the pricy end. We got dis.

No more of my wife being convinced she needs to performatively pull loans on her livelihood and shelter for the illusion of a 3/2 middle class life with a picket fence and a job she hates in a place she hates that she doesn’t know how to get away from. Hell, if she ends up hating Oregon? WE CAN PICK UP OUR HOUSE AND MOVE.

QUEER CULTURE IS HAVING THE MILLENNIUM FALCON OF RVS RAINBOW PAINTED INTERNALLY TO HAUL ASS TO PORTLAND OREGON AND AINT SHIT YOU CAN DO TO STOP US, FUCKERS.

It’s literally parked in our yard right now awaiting our voyage.

You bet your ass we’re getting an aux cord and blaring classic rock on surround sound the whole goddamn way

Also gonna get a CB radio to roll with some of the better trucker herds out there. Trust me, solid investment for a multitude of reasons. And entertaining.

If you don’t know what Smokie In The Woods is on a CB radio, you don’t know the road.

It also comes with a lot of gadgets you usually have to buy, like converters for USB chargers in older vehicles and the cable antenna and an extra tent and hell they left two bikes on it like YALL WANT EM YOU CAN HAVE EM, SURE

So buying the RV, paying the friend for the loss of a work day, the necessary gas to get out there, and the tow all in all is gonna run us about 12,000 bucks total, which isn’t a bad deal for bringing your own house with you.

We already burned a few thousand of our settlement trying to fix this house before the bad news and/or upkeeping bills but now it’s time to burn it and walk. By the time we roll I’m expecting us to have about 4K over costs in the bank, which is... enough. It’s more of a nest egg than we’d have if we stayed here that’s for sure, covers emergencies on the way there and gives us a few months to get our shit together. Even the part-iest part time job out in Portland will float any overhead on bills much less if shea can fall in with all the media and digital work out there with her graphic design and art, we’re eyeing the portland saturday market to sell her stuff at in season too. SCREW THE SYSTEM YALL

#not spn #me #the road so far

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lazuliblade · 5 years

Photo

My sketch of young 17 year-old Victor’s outfit at his first Olympics from the trailer. As of my last post I’d been to the theater showing 3 times, and with this post it’s been 7 times. I picked up bits of details each time, but there are a few spots I’m still not sure about. Everything with arrows are the very specific things I noticed each time, so I’m 95% sure of them even if my execution doesn’t do it justice. We’ll probably get the trailer soon anyway, but I wanted to at least post the sketch. I’ve typed up the handwritten notes in the picture for clearer reading, and because the extra notes to elaborate got a bit long, I’ve put it all under a cut:

Hair:

not very long

neat ponytail, not a hair out of place

wrapped with his own hair (he tied it up so that part of the hair length becomes a hair-tie to hold up the rest of the ponytail)

Front:

black ribbon (neck)

neat crisp bow - tails of the bow go to about the middle of his sternum

white ruffles at the neck (going just about up to his chin) and chest

main fabric is an emerald green with lighter green swirls scattered across it (kind of like embossed cloth or upholstery/embroidery)

the swirls/curls aren’t very tight, but the lines are somewhat narrow rather than broad and sweeping

there are sparkly darker green lapels/border around the white ruffles at the chest

there’s a deeper green outlining on the lapels

black ribbon around his waist isn’t very wide

the front has two parallel strings in the middle

the green cloth separates from just below the ribbon-belt - not a very wide angle cut, but like 15-20 degrees - you can see white cloth beneath

the green cloth is also cut at the bottom in flame/seaweed-like shapes that reveal part of the white cloth underneath which merges into the white ruffles

one layer of ruffles in the front

the sleeves

on the outer side of the arm there is a cut-out with jagged edges that stretches from the shoulder to the wrist

the cut-out portion is white and sparkly

have a dark green cuff at the wrist and then white ruffles

there’s a little flame-like shape there that appears silver but it may be like the pattern at the body where we’re actually seeing the white cloth underneath

there are a couple of dark green long swirls on the arms that meet up at the shoulder to form something like a heart shape

no gloves

Back:

skin tone illusion mesh cross-hatching

you can see the line of his shoulder blades and spine

the cut is triangular and tapers down to the ribbon-belt

fairly even serration (dividing the green cloth from the mesh)

the white portion on the top has something like a trefoil shape to it, and there’s some design (like a Celtic knot style) in a light grey

the shape in the center of the upper back looks something like a small, black fleur-de-lis

the ruffles -- there are 3 layers in the back

top layer is a very light grey with slightly darker grey swirls

middle layer is pure white

bottom layer is the same cloth as the top layer

the ruffles lean more toward a rounded shape than a flat-pressed-pleat shape

Pants & Boots:

pants are dark blue (Persian? Cobalt?)

pants go over the boots at the ankle

boots are black (I think they’re his usual GRAF boots) and have silver blades (I think they were the same Pattern 99 style he has in-show)

Things I’m not sure about:

The exact shape of the trefoil-ish white part where it meets the illusion mesh

How exactly this part meets with the shoulders in front and back

the pattern of the swirls on the fabric is too complicated for me to catch and draw - it’s like the white swirls of Yuzuru’s Seimei 2.0 (2017-18 free skate), but not quite as closely packed.

the exact squiggly shape of the flame-ish cut outs at the bottom hem, and the number of them

I believe there are more swirls on the arms, but I didn’t catch them

And one unrelated thing, but a friend hadn’t seen this tidbit floating around, and I loved the detail so much since the first showing:

There’s a small bird in the Olympic arena that flies across our view after Victor is introduced and when he’s making his way to center ice-- like he’s a Disney Princess, or like when doves are released at a wedding. It’s a tiny detail that adds to the atmosphere of it all. I find it amusing (a bird got stuck in the arena! Just like real life!), fittingly dramatic (the flap of wings cutting through the rink), and atmospheric (the bird fits Victor’s costume and flies across when we have a distant camera view). It’s also kind of a pretty sentiment. Like a young Victor is taking off.

Also, hopefully I’ll come back later tonight to add swatches of color down in these notes so I can capture his costume a bit closer, but for now the black-and-white sketch will have to do.

#yuri!!! on ice #ice adolescence #victor nikiforov #young vitya #costumes #my art #yuri on ice #yoi

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oneofyatosfollowers · 4 years

Text

One of a Kind- chapter 5

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20191861/chapters/51515380

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13360973/1/One-of-a-Kind

Yato dashed down the white line, following a long tunnel leading from the terminal. There was more LED lighting ahead, the vehicle carrying his beloved stopping for a moment before veering right. Yato ran after them, only to almost get run over by another hovering vehicle. He threw himself back as his sensors went wild. There were robots big and small, mixing at high speeds with more cyborgs than he's ever met.

Craning his neck over around the corner, Yato saw Hiyori's transporters drive towards the left end of the hall. Yato hissed out her name, looking back and forth for some sort of direction system. There was none so the Wall-E looked down at the lines. It was a six-lane highway, all with the vehicles flying off the ground. It gave him an idea.

His boots took five big steps back, then charged full tilt. Yato dropped to the floor, his ribs and hip sliding along the polished floor. Before he could go further, he latched onto the bottom of an oncoming transport. Even in space, his body was too heavy to lift off the ground, so his back slid across the floor. He could see Hiyori's pod pausing for a spell, waiting to turn left.

Yato grunted at the back-burn and wrapped an arm around the side. The thing rocked as the Wall-E heaved his body on top. Rolling on like he would onto a hammock. Thankfully, there was no one on the vehicle, but that also meant there were no controls. He saw Hiyori's transport turn left as his approached closely behind. Yato panicked when his vehicle began to merge in the opposite direction. He looked to the sky and sighed.

"The things I do for love." Yato let his body fall to the left, latching onto the front and twisting the right side up. The air under the transport hummed at a higher pitch as it was pushed off it's course and latched onto a new floor-line. Around him, other cyborgs honked and hollared at him. Yato sheepishly waved behind him before leaning forward. He willed the transport to move faster, Hiyori and the three other cyborgs in sight. If possible, an even brighter light glowed from the end of the tunnel. Hiyori's was enveloped first, then Yato. He squinted against the unnatural brightness, then opened his eyes.

Massive. The area he found himself in must be the main deck, but, there was just a pool? The ceiling had a cartoon sun and some clouds, providing enough light for the entire area. Even without it, the walls and buildings surrounding the resort were covered with electronic advertisements. They overlapped each other and showed nothing but entertainment and food in a cup.

Yato gasped out in awe. This room alone- if you could call it that- put the city to shame. Even in it's old glory days. His hover pod slowed down and Yato snapped out of his daze. In front of him was another hovering device. This one looking like a chair. Yato's head shot up when he noticed there were in fact human heart beats around him. All around him. In the chair in front of him, and in the multitude chairs that now joined him as he continued onto another highway.

Massive. These people, humans if his sensors weren't mistaken, were much larger than he remembered them being. They rivaled hogs or hippos, their faces taking on a huge pear shape. All of humans wore red onesies. Each person's face was four inches way from a personal holographic screen. Yato peeked at the woman next to him, another woman was on the screen speaking to her. To his shock, the woman next to Yato spoke back. He was amazed by this futuristic phone, until he heard an echo behind him, and he saw the woman on the screen sitting on the other side of him.

Yato rolled his eyes, then shook his head. He needed to focus on following Hiyori. Her transport was just up ahead, waiting in line at what looked like a train station. He couldn't lean with his transport squished between these massive bodies. Yato stood up, flailing his arms to keep balance on his new surf board. He was in the third lane out of four. Only one line separated him from Hiyori.

The Wall-E looked to his right. There was a very large man with slick-back brown hair coming this way on his chair. He would have to time this just right. The man sipped on his meal, eyes lazily on the screen, completely unaware. Yato bunched his muscles, hoping these hover chairs had a strong balance system.

Brown boots landed securely on the top of the chair's back, the entire thing tipping backwards. The brown-haired man dropped his drink as he flailed his chubby arms.

"What the-!" He shouted in a gruff voice.

Yato landed safely on the other side, sighing in relief. The ground beneath him shook, but it couldn't have been him. Similar words from Yukine were shouted at him and Yato turned to see the man on the ground. He was on his stomach with a fierce expression, asking what just hit him. It was clear he didn't see the Wall-E, so Yato started making his way to the station.

"Hey! Someone? Hey! Help!" the grounded man's cries sounded to strong for someone who could only roll over. Yato whined looking towards the ceiling for some sort of holy guidance. He balled his fists up and swung them before groaning out loud. Yato rushed back to the stubbly-pear-faced man-pig.

The Wall-E slowed his movements. Two more Secur-Ts stood beside the human, one trying desperately to help him back into the chair. The other stood, alerting oncoming traffic that the pathways have concaved off their straight path to avoid further accidents. Yato nearly laughed. The Secur-T cyborg trying to help the man back in his chair was a little blading man with round glasses. He sweated and grunted along with the human, practically shaking, trying to avoid being crushed.

"Tsuguha, please come and assist- oh! Thank you, that was fast- huh? Who are?" The male Secur-T blinked his beady eyes as Yato scooped the human from under his arms and lifted him up. The two cyborgs heaved and the big human was back in his chair, pieces of slick back hair falling out of place. They both stared at the Wall-E in confusion while Yato craned his neck to see Hiyori's transport next in line. By now the other Secur-T had ran up.

"Okay, Akiha, sir! The signs have arrived! I'm so sorry for the inconvenience! Thank you for your patience." Her bun bobbed as she ran over in a panic. She, too, blinked I awe behind glasses at the cyborg in dirty brown wearalls. Yato ideally wondered why they needed glasses. Was it possible these Secur-T didn't have eye inserts?

"Who are you? What the hell is a Wall-E?" The sitting man narrowed his brown eyes, mouth set in a bit of a scowl. Yato decided he liked this human. He seemed honest.

"I'm Yato!" The Wall-E stuck out a hand. The man looked at his hand, then Yato, then back at his hand with a raised brow. After some deliberation he nodded.

"Daikoku." his chubby fingers gripped Yato's fully as he shook hands once before letting go and crossing his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, Yato saw the hover-train round the pool deck.

"I appreciate you helping me out. Sometime these new glorified mall cops do things too by the book. I owe you one-hey! Don't run off when I'm praising you!" Daikoku hollered after the Wall-E. Yato didn't even look back but waved over his shoulder.

The train was almost done being loaded, Hiyori's pod sideways between two humans. Yato ran up to the open side, hurtling over the blue safety fence that shot up out of the floor. He stumbled and crashed against the back wall, finally taking a breather. Yato found himself nestled between two chairs that faced over the fence, not that anyone was looking past their screens. Hiyori was to his left, just on the other side of a young human.

The vehicle hovered around the pool, zooming further into the massive space cruise. Above them, and the ads, Yato saw tons of tiny apartments. Below, appeared to be entertainment and food courts. Robots, controlled by people behind screens, played sports both new and old. They passed a school, where children sat in floating desks and hunched over desks equipped with holo-screens.

Yato peaked around the woman next to him. Hiyori was still sound asleep, the two Sectur-Ts sitting with their backs to him. At the very front sat the Go-4, tapping on the screen embedded in his fore arm. The Wall-E had to get over there. First, Yato wriggled his leg around the back of the floating chair. He doubted this curly-pink-haired woman would notice him switch spots with her. Pushing forward, his chest gently pushed the chair. Until the train took a right turn and this heavy weight champion crushed him. The Wall-E held back a cry and pushed the chair with more force, just enough to get back out.

He felt for his speaker, happy that it wasn't cracked again. He was much too far to get replacements. This woman still happily chatted away to the screen, young eyes shining with laugher. She looked friendly enough to approach.

"'S'cuse me?" Yato said, "'S'cuse me?"

He shook her chair this time, but she didn't notice. He just watched as her and the people around her somehow changed the color of their onesies from red to blue. The last thing he need was to alert the other cyborgs. How long had it been since he last spoke to a non-working human? Had he ever?

"Um," Yato waved his fingers through the screen, "Excuse me?"

He pulled back when her screen flickered out a view and she jumped. Yato was about to address her again, a little impatient, when he saw her eyes focus. Her mouth opened slightly and she leaned forward. No one but Yato even acknowledged her sound of awe as they whizzed past dancing colors and lights. She acted like she was the one from Earth. She then seemed to remember something, the bright pink curls bobbing.

Yato blinked with wide eyes when she turned to look at the culprit. He bit his tongue as she looked him up and down. He didn't think he could take another confused disgusted look, followed by fairly obvious questions. But to his surprise, a smile grew across her rosy cheeks.

"Wow! You're kinda cute!" she squealed.

The Wall-E grew warm in the face. Her face showed she was genuine, if not a little playful. Yato decided he liked her.

"My name is Kofuku! Please to meet you!" The woman, Kofuku, introduced herself.

"Hello Kofuku! My name is Yato, but I'm sure you could already tell that." Yato said, giving a mock bow. When he looked up at her with a grin, she mirrored it with just as much mischief.

"Was there something you needed from me, Yatty?"

"Yatty? Oh um, I just need to sneak past you." Yato pointed at Hiyori's pod. Kofuku looked to where he was pointing, but didn't move.

"Oh she's so cute!" Kofuku turned and shouted in excitement. Her chair rocked as she leaned towards him with sparkling eyes. Yato agreed just as enthusiastically.

"Are you two together?" Kofuku practically purred.

"Ah well, no. I mean! Not yet anyway."

"An Eve huh?" Her eyes narrowed with amusement, "That's pretty high class." She leaned in more and Yato put a hand against the back of her chair. Yato let out a small laugh, this woman was the gossip type but she meant no harm. Yato was happy to humor her right back.

"Yeah. She's like, the spoiled rich daughter of a doctor or something. But it was love at first sight. We just had a connection, you know? I guess you could say we're soulmates." Yato decided with his arms crossed. He had his nose up in the air, but when he looked back at her he saw she wasn't smiling.

Kofuku's eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted. Yato feared he offended her in some futuristic way but she quickly covered the expression with a smile. He couldn't see her eyes, but the familiarity of the expression hurt him.

"'Soulmates', huh?" She sat back in her chair, "That sounds really sweet."

Yato blinked and stood a little straighter, understanding drawing his face with hard lines. He licked his lips and pressed them together, rubbing the ends of his fingertips together to try and dry the awkward sweat. He looked off the train to the blur of neon lights. The Wall-E's heart urged him to at least try.

"Yeah. You know, everyone has one." Yato focused his maya colored eyes to hers when she felt them on him. Kofuku's wide eyes looked at him, hopeful and confused. When the silence stretched on, Yato's eyes flickered away then back to her.

"Soulmate." He clarified.

"Do you really mean that?" Kofuku leaned closer, her chair rocking sideways. The Wall-E gave an awkward smile at the stars that danced in her eyes.

"I do," Yato was surprised that every word was true, "I think you have one too, a soulmate. But I think you would have a better chance of finding him if your face wasn't so buried all the time." Kofuku giggled and fell back in her chair, happiness coloring her cheeks. The train slowed into the station. Once the door was down, passengers started leaving the transport. The Gopher began turning the transport off the trains.

"Yeah, you're probably right." Kofuku agreed with a small smile.

"And you know what," Yato stepped off after them, but turned to look at Kofuku over his shoulder, "He would be a fool not to be looking for you too."

Yato followed Hiyori's pod out of the train station and off towards the rear of the ship. The Wall-E's lungs heaved as he signaled his body for long distance running. He tried to stay along the sides and just out of earshot, the LED glare off of Hiyori's pod the only thing he could see. Yato followed her into an empty part of the ship, looking to be a sports complex. Then they slowed down to a completely different environment.

For one thing, this part of the ship had a severe lack of advertisements, and overall color for that matter. The floor went from an off white to a black marble, the walls were lined with windows without balconies. Inside, the Wall-E saw something rare on this ship: people working. Cyborgs, his mind filled in for him. He nearly slowed to a stop as he watched men and woman in business attire, type away and answer phones. Across from them were more offices, filled with long tables of cyborgs and robotic arms, building new machines or fixing others.

In front of Yato, the Go-4 brought Hiyori in front of a large grand door made entirely of glass. The room surrounding it didn't look too big, but a long tube stretched from it seemed to touch the very ceiling.

The Wall-E took in a sharp breath and picked up the pace. Up ahead, the transport had made its way into the glass doors, the Go-4 speaking to someone at the front desk.

"No!" Yato was just reaching the glass doors when Hiyori's pod was brought into an elevator and was sent careening upwards. The Wall-E burst through the entrance and slowed to a stop in the middle of the room. He let out a groan and let his torso fall forward, saved by his hands on his knees. The sound of Yato's heaving was interrupted by a stiff voice.

"Who are you? And what are you doing in the Captain's Lobby?" The man practically barked. Yato looked slightly to the left of the elevator to see a tall desk with two similar looking men behind it. The cyborg that just addressed Yato like he walked in naked, had long black hair that fell past the desk, and wore a white and black uniform. His eyes were also dark, squinting at him due to the twisted, angry expression he was giving the cleaner.

"Was there something you needed help with?" The other man leaned forward and spoke to Yato in a much softer tone. This one had the same hair style and eyes, only his were a much lighter color. His hair was a fair blonde while his skin was much paler, he looked like a copy that ran out of ink.

Yato jogged up to the desk as both cyborgs followed him with their similar eyes. The desk was just high enough to settle under his chin. The Wall-E hooked his fingers on the pristine counter top and finally caught his breath. From this close he could read the cyborgs' types and names. They were both Typ-Es. The soft blonde is named Kiun, while the one that looked at the Wall-E like he just cut him off on the interstate, is named Take. It was odd how some cyborgs had names and not others. He would have to ask Yukine about that later.

"Yeah, hi. I'm a Wall-E from Earth and I was, um, on that transport? And I, uh, fell off." The end of Yato's sentence tilted up in question. Both Typ-Es' eye brows raised to their hairline as they looked down at Yato's most convincing smile.

Take did a spit take, then let out a howl of laughter. Yato's cheeks went pink and his brows pinched together when the man proceeded to laugh himself to the floor. Kiun, on the other hand, continued to stare at Yato, as if in a trance.

"So," Yato cleared his throat and looked to Kiun, "if you could just let me go wherever they went, I'd really appreciate it." Yato glared when Take tried to crawl back on his chair only to make eye contact with the cleaner and fall back down, tears streaming from his eyes. This seemed to snap Kiun out of whatever he was in, and the blonde straightened up.

"I'm sorry, but we can't let you into the Captain's Chamber without proper representation and, or identification." Kiun informed. At this point, Take was back in his chair, superior expression on his face as if he wasn't just rolling on the floor.

"That's right. And I doubt you have either," Take crosses his arms, "only the elite with high qualifications may hold an audience with the captain of Heaven's Sun." The Typ-E stuck his nose in the hair. Yato didn't have much experience with his type, but if he wanted to get up to Hiyori, he would have to play fairly.

"By 'elite' do you mean yourself?" Yato just wanted to clarify. Take took the bait, hook, line and sinker.

"Why of course! Kiun and I are the gatekeepers for the captain! We hold almost the same rank as Bishamon!" Take leaned back in his chair and chuckled, looking up at the ceiling.

"So I'm guessing you are more advanced than us little guys."

"But of course! I'm a Typ-E for the caption! Its necessary I am able to out-preform lower lever workers." Take looked Yato up and down with a smug expression. Next to them, Kiun grew bored and fell asleep. It must be hard being such a high-performance cyborg.

"Anything I can do you can do better?" Yato double checked.

"Of course!" Take proclaimed. Yato sighed in mock despair, leaning dramatically against the counter top.

"You're probably right. You really could beat me in anything, an inferior machine like me can't even hope to win against you." The Wall-E mourned while Take's nose grew bigger. But then Yato straightened up, catching the other man's attention.

"Well, I mean, anything except Rock-Paper-Scissors." Yato leaned against the counter with a polite smile. The Wall-Es eyes flicked back up at the Typ-E to see he had jolted into a sitting position. Yato looked at his nails, trying to snuff out his smile.

"I can defeat you in anything! Even this pointless 'rock-paper-scissors'." Take used air-quotes around the name of the game.

"I don't know," Yato drawled, "I'm pretty good. Back home, you could say I'm the best."

"Ha! The only 'best' here is me!"

"Ah, well, it's pointless anyway."

"Pointless though it may be, I can't allow you to be in the caption's lobby-in my presence- and claim to be better than me at something. Now, miscreant, explain the rules." Take listened intensely to the rules of such an important Earth game. Kiun, being shaken awake to ensure there was no cheating, listened as well.

"That's it? Ha! If this is your best, you cleaners really are low on the totem pole. This is hardly worth my time." Take said.

"Well then, how about we raise the stakes?" Yato quirked a brow. The Typ-E grinned and hopped down from his chair, making his way to the front of the desk.

"What could you possibly offer me?"

"If I win, you let me go to the caption's chamber. If you win, you can escort me to the chamber, and announce how you captured a stowaway singlehandedly." Yato said, hoping that would be enough.

"You're on, Wall-E!" Take agreed, looking excited by such a thrilling thought. They set up their hands, fist in palm, facing each other with hunched backs.

"Is the jingle really necessary?" Take asked with chagrin.

"Yes! You can't play rock-paper-scissors without the rhyme! It's common curtesy and gives you time to think-"

"-Alright, alright, I get it. Let's just get to it!" Take put on airs again. His confident, challenging smirk back in place. The two looked up to Kiun, who nodded with an amused smile. Then, the game commenced.

"What!"

"Ha!"

"No!" Take roared down at his fist, signaling rock. He then gave Yato the most fiery look of rage the Earthling has ever seen.

"I win, Take." Yato shrugged, waggling his fingers in the paper position.

"Kiun!" Take's head whipped to question the verdict. The blonde Typ-E just shrugged and declared Yato the winner. Take let out a righteous cry of fury.

"I'm the winner! Now let me-"

"-Best two out three!" Take interrupted Yato, getting in the ready position. Yato rolled his eyes and did the same. Several games and aggressive singing later, Yato was still victorious.

"Best 5 out of-"

"Enough!" Yato shouted, he pointed straight at Take's face.

"I win and that's that! Now let me through!" Yato demanded.

"I will do no such thing!" Take crosses his arms, "There's no way you could- Kiun!"

"Yes?" Kuin perked up from his spot over the keyboard. His innocent face not distracting them from the sound of the elevator door opening. Yato nodded in thanks and made a break for it. Take howling and waving his fist after him.

"Come now, Take. How about I practice with you?" Kiun said as Yato waved at him from the elevator. Take grumbled and made his way back behind the ridiculously tall desk. Their newfound past time, the last thing Yato saw before the doors shut and he was sent soaring upward.

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ukcps · 3 years

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Congratulations to Monique Castellani-Kraan for winning Best in Show at the UKCPS Keswick Exhibition 2021.

Monique has kindly share some background information on her wonderful piece Kisses in Blue.

I drew my first hyacinth macaw back in 2015, and it was wonderful being able to revisit the same subject again with “Kisses in Blue”. Parrots are honestly such a delight to draw. Their colours are bright and happy, and they have so much character. I will also always jump at the chance to get out my blue coloured pencils!

I started work on this piece back in January. After a long spate of only making miniature pet commissions over the Christmas period, which was slowly sending me into a spiral of madness, I decided to overcompensate by starting my largest drawing to date, at 40 x 50cm (16 x 20 inches approx).

As someone with a background in digital painting, I like to do all of my sketches and compositions digitally nowadays to transfer to paper. That way my expensive watercolour paper stays free of eraser marks and errant sketch lines. It saves a lot of time in the long run, and if I mess up I can very easily just print out the sketch again to start over. I don't know what I'd do without my iPad!

This drawing proved to be a little intimidating because of the size I was working at. I ended up setting it aside for a few months. You know that famous "fear of the blank canvas" we've all experienced? This one hit me hard. I got a tiny section of the eye and surrounding feathers done and then proceeded to swiftly run away, back to the safety of drawing miniatures! A few months later, I finally decided to stop hiding and to give this piece a proper go. As I got into the rhythm of it I quickly felt myself being sucked into that "zone" of intense focus - where time just slips away until it's suddenly dark outside and you've skipped a meal!

Now that I had finally got my toes wet, I was gaining confidence. Art is a bit like exercise - it takes effort and routine to get into the swing of it - but once I do, I feel like I'm flying! With every new drawing I'm reminded of just how much I adore coloured pencils and how fun the process is.

Translating the reference photo’s feathers on the left macaw’s cheek was proving to be a bit of a challenge. I could only stare for so long at the complicated mess of shadows without going cross-eyed - so I decided to treat myself to tackling the beak first instead. If ever you find yourself in a rut with a painting, look for the deepest, darkest shadows in your reference, and block those in first. You will have a much easier time once they're there. Here, the darkest shadows were the inside of the macaws' mouths, so I put my much-loved Polychromos black to work, blending with paint thinner in between each layer and tinting it with Luminance Dark Indigo to get it nice and deep. Now that the darkest shadows were blocked in, I would have a much easier time in the areas surrounding it. That shadow became my reference point for judging the values for the beak, skin and feathers nearby.

I used Daler Rowney Low Odour Thinner to blend my pencils in between layers, with a flat taklon brush. I primarily used it in the first few layers of the underpainting. The yellow skin on the beak was a tricky customer with this - my blending brushes had to be impeccably clean, or else I would end up turning it green with the blues being so close by. In addition, I didn't want the very pale yellows getting contaminated by the oranges that are in the shadows. I made sure to carefully wipe my brush off thoroughly on some paper towel before blending in small areas at a time.

Beaks are so much fun to draw! They have a lot going on, from subtle colour shifts, to chips and cracks and ridges. The texture is a treat for the eyes! Here, I started by creating a gradient of soft earthy purples, greys and creams in the underpainting. At this stage I used mostly a mix of Luminance and Polychromos pencils. For underpaintings, I like to go darker than what the final result will be - though some would say I go a little TOO dark (coloured pencil is technically a light to dark workflow because they are mostly transparent).

After blending it with OMS, and making sure it's still a little damp, I go in with my pale tones from the Derwent Lightfast, Caran d'Ache Luminance and Holbein lines. These brands are soft and have more wax than oil in them, making them very creamy and more opaque than brands like Polychromos. Because the paper is still saturated with paint thinner, the pencil melts as it makes contact with the paper, making it go on super thick, even though I'm only pressing gently. This is my dirty little secret for how I work from dark to light in all of my coloured pencil pieces. The paper you're using, of course, is paramount for this technique too. If you're not using a good paper, you're going to run out of tooth extremely quickly using this technique. This piece was drawn on Saunders Waterford Hot Pressed 300gsm- and I wholeheartedly recommend it!

However, I just want to add that if you have an area or texture you want to keep REALLY light, for example a large white crack in the beak, you should draw that in first before doing anything else. That way, when you put your underpainting over it and blend with paint thinner, the white detail you added first will show through, clear as day! (This is great for whiskers on cats and dogs for example) You can also use a ceramic cutter to do this afterwards instead, though personally I have yet to use one myself.

After finishing the beaks, it was time to face the feathers on the birds’ bodies head-on. As always, I block in my darkest shadows first and then my underpainting, giving it a good blend out with plenty of OMS. This is so that I don't get lost in a sea of repeating shapes. Without doing this, I find it's very easy for your artwork to end up all the same value with not enough contrast between the highlights and shadows. I also rough in where I want each contour feather to be on the bird’s chest with a dark blue, though I only very gently line them in with my pencil so I can still move things around if needed while I build on the textures and detail.

Once the underpainting is done I am free to start pulling out those details. I went feather-by-feather, preferring to go in with my lighter coloured pencils first, gently pulling out each feather’s barbs. After that, staying mindful of how the lighting is hitting each feather, I used my mid tone and darker pencils to work in between each barb, gradually building up shadows. I also glazed in shadows over this with a very gentle hand to give the overall shape of the feather form and depth.

It can be tempting to rush through areas like this where there is lots of uniform texture, but it’s important to stay patient and take your time. Body feathers especially can become indecipherable after a certain point, because they all overlap and merge into each other. Sometimes even though the reference photo is sharp as a tack and super clear, there is just so much going on that it wouldn't 'read' well as an artwork. So I used my reference to help me with the general structure and composition, and to inform me on how the shapes and textures should look. But I didn’t stress about getting it exact.

Once you have good knowledge of a subject, after doing study sketches and looking at lots of different references, you can be a lot freer with how you approach your final artwork. A lot of the colours, textures and feather placement in ‘Kisses in Blue’ were not there in the reference. I opted to go for a much warmer, cheerful blue. The reference I was using was also fairly flat as it was taken on an overcast day, meaning the lighting was quite diffused. I made my artwork brighter than my reference material, pushing the overall contrast between the midtones and the deepest shadows. I also found myself intermingling soft lilac hues and subtle teal with my Polychromos and Luminance pencils, almost over-exaggerating the birds’ vibrancy. I tried not to stress too much about feathers either - while getting the shape and placement of feathers right on wings can be paramount to a realistic piece, the same does not apply for contour feathers and down feathers. As long as you stick to the right shapes and sizes, paying attention to the bird’s form, you don’t need to get it looking exactly like your reference.

I try my best to bring myself out of my comfort zone with each new drawing. This piece was my biggest challenge yet – quite literally. I’m glad I pushed myself to draw larger than I am used to and I can see why a lot of coloured pencil artists like working at this size – while it is more time-consuming, you have much more room to breathe and fit details in, that would normally get lost in a smaller piece. With my choice of composition and lighting, I wanted to convey a feeling of intimacy and closeness with the birds that I don’t think I would have been able to achieve were this drawing smaller.

#colouredpencilsuks #drawing #animalart #art #colouredpencil #painting #coloredpencilartist

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transcendence-au · 6 years

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The Manor of Alcor (2/?)

AN: Whoops! Didn’t realize this hadn’t been uploaded last month. Chapter 3 is coming soon.

Also on ff.net

Orrie walked down the east wing of the manor with his strip of paper in hand. He passed several doors with names written on them. “Sarkozy…Jans…oh, Keller.” His room was second from the end on the left side. Turning the knob, Orrie stepped inside.

The room was fit for royalty. The ceiling was high with a pretty crystalline chandelier hanging in the center. The king-size bed was lined with white, fluffy pillows and framed with silky light-brown curtains. On the other side of the fairly large room were a small walk-in closet and a tiny washroom. Around the room were other pieces of furniture, a dresser and full-length mirror to name a few. Orrie dropped his belongings by the side of his bed, taking a moment to let everything sink in.

He was actually at the Manor of Alcor, picked against all odds to solve its mystery. He managed to befriend (at least he hoped) three people already. Smiling widely to himself, Orrie pulled out a sketchbook and pencil from his backpack, flipping it to the first available page not filled with miscellaneous scribbles and doodles. Concentrating, he began to sketch an outline of the mansion, taking notes and adding details to the rooms already visited or seen. There was the parlor room, the foyer, and the east wing where the bedrooms were located. They passed several other rooms and halls, of course, but he hadn’t yet seen where they led. There was still so much to explore– judging by the building’s size and what he’d seen, he hadn’t even covered a tenth of the whole area.

There was a knock at the door. Looking up from the last of his drawing, Orrie answered it. “Yes?”

“May I come in?” someone asked. Orrie put away his belongings and went to open the door. On the other side was Cliff, no Zahia in sight. “Hey there. Just wanted to know if you want to have lunch with us. Many of the others are heading out now to enjoy some barbecue.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’d love to,” Orrie answered, stepping outside. He followed Cliff down the hall. “But, um, aren’t we supposed to be solving a mystery soon?”

Cliff waved off his words. “That can wait a bit, don’t ya think? I mean, none of us really know each other very well, and this is the perfect opportunity to talk to one another. I’m sure afterwards we’ll all go our own ways to solve the mystery, but until then we should all relax and enjoy ourselves.” Orrie couldn’t argue with that. They traversed through a few halls and a magnificent kitchen with a dining nook, spotting the old couple—the Tosettis, if what Orrie read on their envelope was correct—making their steady way to the back door. Cliff held the door open for them, which they were quite thankful for, and the four of them went into the yard where the housekeepers and some of the guests were all hanging about.

It was bright and sunny, and Orrie regretted not bringing along some swim trunks so he could enjoy the pool. If he really wanted to, though, he could always just dip his feet into the cool water like Zahia was doing, several white lotuses floating daintily around her legs. Belle, Dipper, and Dug were sitting at the table, watching some game show on an outdoor TV connected to the wall. Orrie looked around, noticing a few people missing.

“Where’s Flynn? And Mr. Connolly?”

“Siegfried was busy looking for clues already,” Cliff answered, taking a seat next to Dug. “I have no idea where Flynn is. Probably wandering around himself.” While a bit disheartened he wouldn’t be joining them, Orrie still enjoyed his time with the others through talk and games, even watching and cheering Dipper on as he, Dug, and Zahia took part in a grilled-burger eating contest. They heard the story of how the Tosettis met and saw the pictures of the Lionharts’ wedding from two weeks ago. In return, Orrie showed them all photos of his family stored on his phone.

“Oh, you get your lovely hair from your father, I see,” Mrs. Tosetti exclaimed, “When did you both decide to dye it?”

“What? Oh no, it’s natural for us,” Orrie said, subconsciously fingering his blond hair streaked with strands of royal blue. “We’ve got Kinnara or something like that on dad’s side of the family. See? My cousin’s is green.”

“I wish my hair was blue,” mused Belle, “Or– no, purple! No, I’d want it to have, like, a rainbow of streaks!” Dipper just smiled, rolling his eyes at his twin.

Hours later, when the mosquitoes proved to be too much, they went back inside. Not even one minute after the last person entered the kitchen a housekeeper walked up to them. “I’m sorry to bother you at this time,” she apologized, “But Ms. Wheatly would very much like to speak with you all right now. She’s in the parlor room. If you’d be so kind.” And she bowed and left the kitchen. The group of eight made their way toward the parlor. Entering once more, Orrie spotted Flynn and Siegfried already inside. He split off from the others.

“Sorry you missed the gathering in the back yard. We were all outside hanging out. Cliff said he couldn’t find you.”

Flynn didn’t seem perturbed. “I was in the library while you were all outside. Figured I might see if there was a clue hidden in one of the books there.”

“Wouldn’t that be a bit cliché if it were?”

“Perhaps.” That was all he could say before Ms. Wheatly scuttled into the room, closing the doors behind her.

“Apologies for interrupting your activities, but may I be so bold in asking how committed you are in solving the mystery of this manor? The Master is growing a bit impatient that none of you has found the first clue yet.”

“We’re serious,” assured Siegfried, crossing his arms, “Just some more than others. Besides, we only just arrived some hours ago. And some of us here don’t know how to hunt for clues.” Every time Siegfried spoke it was like he was in on the act. Which Orrie didn’t mind at all because that meant he could hurry the process along for them learning what they needed to do. And indeed Ms. Wheatly nodded in agreement to his words.

“I see. So you don’t know how to search for clues. In that case I’ll tell you. Listen closely. In this mansion there are a total of seven clues you need to find to solve the mystery. For all but one of the clues you will first need to find a key. The locations of these clues and keys can be deduced through the numerous hints scattered around the house.”

“What kind of hints?” Zahia asked, “They’re not super hard puzzles, are they?”

“Nursery rhymes,” Ms. Wheatly answered, “In the form of a riddle. Solve the riddle and you’ll find the key or clue. But I must inform you that not all keys are in the same room as their corresponding clue. The same goes for hints.”

The guests gave varying remarks of understanding. “So hints lead to clues or to keys that unlock clues,” Dipper clarified.

“Correct. But finding the hint is no easy task. Here, I’ll help you search for your first hint.” And then she made quite a show looking around. Exaggerated motions of opening cabinet doors and gazing all around its interior, of ruffling pillows and examining every inch of them, or checking underneath every single piece of furniture. Silly as it looked it did tell Orrie one thing: the hints would not be in obvious places.

“Oh! What do you know?” As if to prove his theory, Ms. Wheatly, while moving aside some books on a shelf a little too enthusiastically, knocked a bust of an old man over. Beneath the marble statue was a hole– the bust was hollow. Ms. Wheatly reached inside and pulled out a tiny brown scroll, beckoning the guests over to her. Orrie was able to read it as she unfurled the paper:

“Buried atop Old Smoky.”

He blinked. Old Smoky? Like ‘On Top of Old Smoky’? So were all the hints based on classical Pre-Transcendence nursery rhymes? Depending on which rhymes were used this mystery might be a little harder to solve than he thought.

“What’s Old Smoky?” Cliff asked, “Sounds like a volcano’s name.”

“Very close,” Ms. Wheatly smiled as she put the scroll in her pocket. “A mountain. Based on the old nursery rhyme ‘On Top of Old Smoky’. Does anyone know how the first part of the rhyme goes?” Orrie refrained from raising his hand, wanting to know if anyone else was familiar with the song. Nobody spoke up. “I’ll tell you then. ‘On top of Old Smoky, all covered in snow’. That’s the line. Now where or what resembles a mountain with snow on top of it?”

She let the guests explore the room themselves. Orrie saw from the corner of his eye Siegfried step away from the party. To anyone who knew his little secret they’d perhaps assume he didn’t want to give the answer right away, and to those who didn’t he looked like someone who’d rather have others do the work. But the look in his eyes implied otherwise. He was watching them. Judging them in their ability to deduce. Orrie hadn’t solved the hint yet, but there was no way he was going to let the man assume he was on to him, so he opted to look around a lamp with a white lampshade over it.

It was Dug who finally figured it out. And by complete accident too. “Whoops! Didn’t mean to!” he hurriedly said, grabbing the fishtank in the corner he nudged off its stand. He straightened the box up before all its contents, inhabitants, and the items on top of it could spill over onto the floor. He sighed with relief before blinking his eye at the tank. “Wait…is that Old Smoky?” He pointed to one of the little plastic decorations inside. Orrie had already seen the aquarium that was designed like multiple biomes had merged into one, but even he overlooked the small toy that looked exactly like a snow-capped mountain.

“Buried atop Old Smoky you say?” Dug shuffled through the items resting on top of the tank, most of them folded newspapers. It was between two newspapers that a piece of a third slipped out. Dug caught it before it landed on the floor. The piece of paper was significantly older than the rest, browner and far more wrinkled. Dug had to squint to read its faded text.

Ms. Wheatly stepped over to him. “Would you like me to read it for you?”

“Yeah please.” He handed her the paper. She cleared her throat, and everyone paid close attention as she read the article:

“Six Found Dead, Suspect At Large

Police responded to a silent alarm early Friday morning. The bodies of six victims were found scattered inside an unaddressed mansion miles outside the city limits. Investigators believe the victims were all members of an illegal cult as only two of the victims had visible injuries. It is presumed a seventh cult member was the perpetrator and fled the scene. The identities of the victims have not yet been revealed at this time.”

Dipper crossed his arms. “That wasn’t very helpful as a clue. But I can’t say this exercise wasn’t informative. Thanks for showing us the ropes on how to look for hints.”

“And who to keep an eye out for,” Belle teased, pushing Dug gently, “We may have ourselves a Sherlock in our midst.” Dug blushed faintly.

“I’m so happy to have helped,” Ms. Wheatly said, beaming. “Now you only have six more clues to find. I’ll leave this one right here in case any of you wish to read it again. If you need any more help just come find me. But first I must help prepare dinner.” She guided everyone to the doors, closing them shut behind them once they left.

A sudden grumble made them all look around. “Hrm, I’m still hungry,” Dug moaned, patting his belly.

“But you ate twelve hamburgers,” said Zahia, eying him incredulously, “I couldn’t even eat half that and I still feel a bit nauseous.”

Dug shrugged. “Can’t be helped. I guess I’ll check to see if there’re any leftovers I can have.”

“I wouldn’t mind a quick bite to eat myself,” said Flynn, “May I join you?”

“Sure. Don’t see why not?”

“I’d like to get started looking for the clues,” Dipper stated, turning toward his sister. She nodded in agreement.

“I think I’m going to take a quick rest before dinner, dear,” Mr. Tosetti said to his wife.

“I want to relax a bit too,” Zahia wrapped an arm around Cliff’s waist. Her husband hugged her back with one arm.

“Yeah. We’ve got all the rest of the day to find hints. Let’s enjoy our honeymoon a little longer.” He playfully bopped her on the nose before leading them toward the stairs. After quick deliberation, Orrie decided to follow them and the Tosettis. He was not, however, expecting Siegfried to come along.

“Are you taking a break too, Mr. Connolly?”

“I may as well. The remaining hints, keys, and clues won’t be hidden until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? So the rest of the day is just for us to, I don’t know, relax?” Let us familiarize ourselves with our environment is what he wanted to say, but the less he made Siegfried suspicious of how serious he was in solving the mystery the less he’d have to worry about him. There was just something off about the man. Siegfried nodded.

“Precisely. Also, I wouldn’t get very comfortable with the idea of Ms. Wheatly helping us on the case.” Orrie looked ahead to make sure the Lionharts and Tosettis weren’t listening in before slowing his pace to walk beside Siegfried.

“Why not?” he whispered. Siegfried gave him a curious glance before opting to reveal his knowledge to the boy.

“Alcor is going to get a little impatient with us tonight and eliminate her as a means to encourage us to search faster.” Orrie looked up at him, horrified, but Siegfried chuckled. “Don’t worry; it’s all an act. The scene will be very convincing, though.”

Orrie nodded. “Okay then…” He wasn’t sure if he should feel impressed on how realistic the staff was going to make this an authentic murder mystery or unnerved. Maybe unnervingly impressed. He smiled at that silly musing before splitting from the group and heading into his room.

That evening—after dinner and while Orrie was lying content on his bed, drawing in his sketchbook—there was a loud shriek from downstairs. There were soon the sounds of footsteps racing down the hall and, while aware of what was probably going on, Orrie couldn’t help peeking his head out in curiosity. Cliff followed closely by Zahia rushed down the stairs. Orrie hurried after them. He caught up with the couple quickly enough and wordlessly the trio burst through the doors to the parlor. Everyone save the Tosettis were already present. And everyone included ‘Alcor’.

He was standing over a very realistic corpse of Ms. Wheatly, which was face-down in a growing pool of red liquid. Strips of clothing lay tattered beside it. Ripped pillows and bloody papers were strewn around, hinting of the struggle that transpired. Zahia gasped, hand over her mouth. Dipper and Belle stood frozen, barely able to believe what they were seeing. Dug looked ill, moving as far away from the body as possible. Siegfried seemed uncomfortable but stayed where he was at by the doors. Flynn was glaring at the perpetrator.

‘Alcor’ stared back, amused smile on his lips. “Y͟ou a̸ll̴ ̢see̕m a̷ b̨it u̸p̸s͠et͠.” He spotted the latecomers. “I d̕id̸n̷’t̨ ́th͟ink ̴s͢he’d caus͏e t͢hąt̨ m̢ucḩ of a̷ c̸ommo̕t̶ion͝.” Flynn flashed a glance back at Orrie before clenching and unclenching his jaw. When he spoke, though, it was with collected calmness.

“Why did you feel the need to do this? You are aware there are children present.” Orrie hoped Flynn wasn’t insinuating he couldn’t handle a little violence. Granted, murder wasn’t ‘a little’ violent, but considering who the star of the attraction was and the fact they were supposed to be solving a murder mystery in the first place…

‘Alcor’ chuckled. “W̷hy? Be̡ca͠us͟e yơu̵’re͏ t̨aki͟n͡g̸ to̧o lon̸g.” He rose into the air, settling into a cross-legged sit. “D̛on’t̡ t̴h̀ìnk I̶ h̨a̛d́n’͢t not̶iced M͠s. W̡hea͡t͠ly ̡hel͡p̢įn̵g y͝ou ơut̡ ea̧rlie͠r. He͝r͠ as͡s̀i̧st͢ance w͡as ͝no̶t par̵t̨ o͠f t̀he dea̢ļ. B̢ut I dec͠ide͞d to ̀let it̡ s̢l͢idè…until͝ I notįc̨ed how littl̨e h͞e͢ad̢w̵a͠y̕ th̷e teǹ of̛ yo̡ų were ̡ma̷king. So̴ I͡ go̵t r̵id̵ o͏f h͠er.”

“Wait, we were taking too long to solve the mystery with her help, so you decided to kill her?” Belle frowned. “What kind of sense does that make?”

“Why ̶do͠e͡s ̷ít̵ ͟ha̢v͟e to̡ ḿake ̡s͢ęn̴s̛e?” asked ‘Alcor’, “I̷ ex̸pected̛ ͠y͡ou to̢ ̷t̢a͟k̵e t̀h̨e mys̷t̕er̡y͞ se͟riou͞sly, s̸olv̶e it͏ q͠u̵ickĺy, and͠ yo̷u d͏i̛s͢app̕ointed̸ m̶e. I̴s͞ i͏t͠ tha̡t muc̀h ̛a su̷rp̸rise ́I too̷k̢ out̶ ḿy̡ f͏r̨ustra͢t͢íon on͡ o͟n̶é ̕of m̀y s͠erv̡an͞t̶s wh̛o, in͡c͡idenţall̵y, h͠app͟en͠s t̕o̶ b̛e̴ th̵e ón̸ly ̵o̷n̵e͏ he̶lping y̨o̡u al̕onģ?” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Th̴is is ͏a͞ll y̧o͞ur f̡au̸lt̨, y̧o̷u ͡k̡now. S̷he̢ c̷ou̢ld hav̴e liv̶ed. B̢ut, ąl̴as͡, yo͏u lo̧st́ y̴ou͠r̨ t̷r̛ue͏ ĺover͡ fo̡r̀ c̢ourtin͡g too̷ slow͠. My ͡s͞u̸g̨gestion? Hùr̀ry i͠t ̕ùp.”

“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you do it?” Dipper narrowed his eyes at the person above him, the challenge in his tone heavy. Orrie felt a chill in the air; the teen’s anger was nearly tangible. “You’re so all-knowing, huh? Why don’t you use your omniscience to solve this stupid mystery yourself? I’m sure you could do it in an instant instead of toying with human lives.” He looked down at Ms. Wheatly; his face was unreadable. Belle, clearly troubled by her brother’s outburst, touched his arm.

“Dipper?”

His head whipped around toward her, his eyes widening slightly like he just remembered she was there. He again stared at the body on the ground before shaking his head. “Sorry. Forgot this was all an act. Just looked really…convincing.” He directed his leer towards ‘Alcor’ who, for once, didn’t look smug. “You know, I remember Alcor being someone who hated human sacrifices. Killing innocents because he was mildly upset was not his M.O. Only the worst of imposters would have gotten that tidbit wrong.”

‘Alcor’s’ eye twitched, indignation flashing in his sharp gaze. “P̷er̢h͡apş I ̢àm not̸ ás al̡l-pow̶ęrful̶ as͠ yo̧u̕ l̨ik͝é to̷ be͠lieve,” he growled. “Ńo͝r̸ as̶ m̵agn̶a̡ni̵m̸ous. Bưt…” He hovered closer to Dipper, nearly face-to-face with the boy. “I̴f you̢ k̵eep te͝s̵tíng m͡y pátįenc͝e, D̶ipper S͏t͟erl̨in̵g̛, o̡ne wo̴n’t ne͝e̡d o͠mn̛isc͡i͏e͡n͠ce t̷o fi͢g͡ure ou̷t͏ ͏wh͡o k̸i̴lle͞d ou̢r̸ ņex̛t̢ ͠p̧oten͠t͢ial͝ vìct́i͠m.” He snapped his fingers and Dipper was lifted right off his feet. The teen, completely taken aback, was too bewildered to fight the invisible force holding him. Another snap and he was thrown across the room, crashing into the opposite wall with a heavy thump! Everyone stood shocked by the action; Belle was the only one with enough sense to run over and check on her twin.

“Dipper!”

Her shout stirred Orrie to face ‘Alcor’, to call him out on his trick that went way too far. But when he turned ‘Alcor’ was gone. Beside him he heard Flynn curse in a weird language. “Where did he go?” he heard the elf mutter lowly.

The doors flew open, and two housekeepers rushed inside, one of them carrying a tarp. Cliff grabbed one of them by the arm. “Hey! This is getting a little—”

“Please sir,” the housekeeper interrupted, “We’ve got this under control.”

“You’ve angered him enough,” the other worker added, laying the tarp over the corpse. Orrie watched as the sheet’s pure white was slowly consumed by the absorbing red. “Just do what the Master has asked. Please go and solve the mystery quickly. We’ll take care of this.”

“Come on, Orrie.” Orrie felt strong hands pushing him out. Cliff stubbornly kept his sight away from the bloody mess as he guided the boy away. Zahia starred at her husband, worried.

Behind him, Orrie could hear Flynn speaking tersely with one of the housekeepers. “Quite graphic” were the only words he managed to overhear before being escorted outside. Siegfried and Cliff then herded everybody else upstairs.

“That looked scary real,” Zahia mumbled to Cliff, who nodded.

“Thought this would be a bit more family-friendly,” her husband agreed.

“Perhaps that’s just how their script was written.” The others looked at Siegfried. “That was almost the same scene they played out last time, and there weren’t any children present then. I’ll admit, though, they didn’t use magic on the guests.”

“Which was completely uncalled for,” Belle angrily spoke. To her brother and with a lot more concern, “You alright?”

“Well, I’ve been a whole lot worse,” he chuckled humorlessly. But Orrie could still sense the resentment around him.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Dipper. I think it’s illegal for them to actually hurt their guests. Perhaps they overdid it with the effects.”

“Perhaps.” Though Dipper didn’t look convinced. “And maybe you’re right. That was some low level magic he used. I really wasn’t that hurt.” Orrie sighed internally with relief. The party made it to the east wing. As they dispersed to their rooms, mostly gotten over what had happened, Orrie finally mustered the courage to ask the twins a question.

“Um…I know it’s kind of in bad taste to ask this now after, well, you know…but can I team up with you? For the mystery?” Belle and Dipper stared at him, a bit confused.

“You mean after what that jerk did to my bro you still want to go through with this?” Belle wondered, though she at least didn’t sound very offended. Orrie felt his face redden.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way but yeah. I’m not interested in the prize and, to be honest, the acting is a bit over the top. I came here to have fun and enjoy myself. It’s another piece of Alcor I can learn about, and that’s exciting to me.”

Dipper nodded, his expression finally brightening somewhat. “I know what you mean. That challenge you just can’t ignore. Like a puzzle that needs to be solved and answers that need to be discovered.” He smiled. “Yeah! Let’s team up. We’re here to have fun after all– to learn about Alcor and solve an unsolvable mystery.” He held out his hand. Orrie took it, gripping firmly, his own smile broadening. Belle wrapped her arms around both of their necks.

“Alright! Nerds unite!”

Orrie laughed. “Well, we can start looking for clues in the morning. Siegfried secretly told me the hints won’t be hidden until tomorrow.” “Oh! So that’s how he knew what was going on,” realized Belle, “He’s been here before. Wait! Doesn’t that mean he has the advantage? He knows where all the hints are!”

“I’m going to assume the hints change locations each time guests come,” Dipper reasoned, and Orrie agreed. He bade them goodnight before entering his own room.

The sketchbook was still on his bed where he’d left it. He debated finishing the final details of what he could remember of the garden but ultimately decided against it, figuring he’d have plenty of time tomorrow. He changed out of his day clothes and grabbed something from his suitcase that was more comfortable to wear in the evening time. Sliding into bed, he looked around his room once more.

It was still just as beautiful as when he’d first entered. But…the space, the extravagance, the lingering amazement of being here…it was too foreign. Too lonesome. Orrie was familiar with it. A bit used to it. But that didn’t mean he liked it. Didn’t mean he’d admit to his new friends that he was scared to explore the entire manor all by himself. Because he liked their companionship; it was something he admittedly didn’t have a lot of back home.

Orrie settled into the sheets, wondering briefly what tomorrow would bring. For now he was comfortable and safe and had companions nearby. And in two days time, when this was all over, he’d be ending one adventure as a pre-teen and starting another by officially becoming a teenager.

Pleased by the thought, Orrie drifted contently to sleep.

Deep in the lower levels of the mansion, the man in front of the monitors smiled. His staff had pulled off yet another spectacular performance today. Mr. Goodman leaned back and stretched. With his guests full of food, sound asleep, and certainly excited for tomorrow’s mystery he could sit back and watch with ease, the greatest of the attraction’s hurdles finally crossed. It’s never easy to set a calming, relaxing air in a home blanketed with betrayal and death, but his dear employees were always up to the task of doing it, exceeding his expectations every year without fail.

He grabbed the cane by the side of his chair and used it to stand. Leaving the office, Mr. Goodman sighed to himself. Such a shame he only caught the tail end of Terry and Ms. Wheatly’s act due to helping some crew members—the realism of her death scene always unnerved even the toughest of men—but he’d be sure to congratulate them nonetheless.

And speak of the devil…

“There you are. I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Terry.” The star of the attraction was standing by the costume closet. Already he was unvested from his suit, most of his make-up gone, his voice modifying mic removed. Terry looked back, a light smile on his lips.

“Oh, hey there, Mr. Goodman. You need something?” he asked as Mr. Goodman hobbled up to him, his cane clacking loudly against the stone tiles.

“Mostly to congratulate you on another great performance. It’s not natural to keep saying this but you are perhaps the best Alcor impersonator I’ve ever had the fortune to have.” He laughed. “I bet even the real one would agree, don’t you?”

“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.” Terry gestured for the elder man to follow; the latter did so slowly. “You probably didn’t hear but the kitchen’s a mess after Duglas Segal requested we make him a late-night snack. We’re cancelling the staff dinner.”

But Mr. Goodman shook his head at the news. “And miss out on your friends’ cooking? For shame, Terry. You know better than to let that happen.” He and his employee chuckled at the good-humored chiding. “But,” he continued, his smile fading, “on a more serious note, Terry, I did not appreciate what you did to our guest.” He stopped walking. “Did to whom?” Terry’s attempt to look innocently perplexed did not bode well with Mr. Goodman.

“Dipper Sterling. The one you used magic on to toss against the wall.” He darkened his expression enough to tell Terry he messed up. The young man at least had the decency to look guilty. “Magic of any kind is expressively forbidden on these grounds, except in—”

“—In a case of emergency,” Terry finished, interrupting the old man. “I know, I know. But that kid was so irritating. Made me look like a fool despite all the research I’ve done on the demon. And—” He paused, noticing the leer from his boss hadn’t lessened. “And I shouldn’t have retaliated like that.”

“You shouldn’t have retaliated at all,” Mr. Goodman corrected.

A faint scowl. “…Right.” Terry, after a silent moment, took a step forward. Mr. Goodman didn’t follow. “Coming?”

“I’ll meet you in the inner chamber in a short while. I first want to congratulate Ms. Wheatly. I wonder where she went off to.”

“I heard in passing that she’s already inside the chamber. If you want to catch up with her before she heads to sleep we should probably hurry.” The other frowned. Why would she be there? She always came to see him first after her act.

“But why?” he voiced his concerns, to which Terry shrugged. So Mr. Goodman followed. He would have made it to the end of the hall, too, were it not for the muffled thump! of something heavy collapsing. Mr. Goodman stopped in his walk, turning his head slightly to the side. “You hear something?”

Terry didn’t stop. “Like what?” “Sounded like something fell.” The sound of a door slowly creaking open sent his nerves tingling, sharp and echoing in the mostly empty hall. He spun around, noticing the closet door opening up to reveal a bunch of fallen costumes piling out.

Mr. Goodman hurried to the pile. “I’ll get that!” Terry, just then noticing the old man’s action, hastened over to him. But Mr. Goodman beat him, already bent and picking up the clothes. He froze when a hand caked in dried blood appeared from underneath a large shirt he’d lifted. Props had their own room, and besides he couldn’t recall ever owning a prop like this. He started to pick it up when he saw it was connected to an arm. Confusion and unease growing, he shifted the costumes away to—

“What…Terry– Terry, what is going on here!?” That was Ms. Wheatly. Bloody and dead and buried beneath the clothing. A nasty wound was torn into her front side, chunks of clotted blood still seeping out. “H-how did Ms. Wheatly end up—” He happened to look to his side. Notice the black shoes of the person beside him. Spot the smudge of equally dried blood on their tips and edges. His increasingly frightened gaze slowly lifted.

The cold fury on Terry’s normally calm face was intimidating enough for the old man. “I was hoping this’d go smoothly.” He snapped his fingers, and Mr. Goodman was lifted off the floor against his will. Terry’s scowl deepened, and with a swift flick of his fingers, the costumes and body of Ms. Wheatly were flung back into the closet. “Can’t believe dumb luck of all things cost me my cover. Doesn’t matter; I’ll have the others move her when I’m ready.”

“Others!?” Mr. Goodman’s eyes widened. Was the rest of his staff in on this? Terry smirked.

“Oh, they aren’t the ones you should be worried about. Now, why don’t you come with me to the inner chamber, hm? I’ve got big plans for you.” Mr. Goodman had no choice as he was levitated through the dark hallway, knowing full well they were too far underground for anyone to hear his cries for help.

#submission #fic

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luninosity · 7 years

Text

And the epilogue - and therefore the actual writing - of Prophecy is complete! Time to send it in to the editors! (I told them about two weeks; this is really closer to one, so maybe we can indeed find ways to shorten some of that 10-month publication process...)

Here, have a piece of the epilogue! (If you read the Evanstan fic version, by the way, this bit is all new - actually the whole story is about twice as long, from 17,452 words to 35,859 words!) (also you can come and order a copy here, if you would like! it should be out roughly around October!) (also for the record there is - in the epilogue, along with some politics and kingdom-merging - one very PG-13 sex scene, nothing explicit, and actually the sex bit is offscreen - we pretty much stop with them naked and looking at each other and happy)

Oliver had just got Tir tucked into bed, propped up by pillows and concerned woolly blankets, when the knock came; they shrugged at each other, and Ollie called back, “Come in.” He didn’t want his fairy to move; Tir claimed to be no worse than normal but had been leaning on him more after the stairs, and had cold hands. He’d been planning to grab the latest novel and read aloud until Tirian fell asleep.

The knock turned into Lyle; their family butler and general font of palace-related knowledge cleared his throat. “We were wondering how Tirian was feeling; Ben said you had to leave the table, upstairs. You know I can always summon the doctor if you’d like.”

“He’s—”

“He’s fine,” Tir put in, peeking around Ollie’s shoulder. “Only tired. Thank you, though.”

“Oh,” Lyle said, radiating paternal worry and pride, “of course you’d be, those big feasts would tire out anybody, all those courses and polite conversation, not to mention you’re barely up and about most days, would you like anything else, then? A tray, extra blankets, the fire lit? We’d meant to have it going but you came down so soon, not that that’s a problem, indeed not.”

“I think,” Oliver started, meaning to say no, meaning to simply close out the world and shelter Tir alone, “we—” Those fingers in his were cold. Rain hit the cool translucent glass of Tir’s bedroom window, and poured silken ribbons over ancient castle mortar and new-grown climbing vines, and fell noisily to the ground far below. “A fire would be nice. We won’t need anything else for the night, but if you could light one, we’d be grateful.”

“No trouble at all.” Lyle vanished; Tir, Ollie discovered, was laughing silently.

“He thinks we’re still twelve, doesn’t he…”

“Permanently. Sorry. He was lecturing the castle into tidiness before I was born. Are you comfortable? Want anything?”

“Only you. Come kiss me?”

They were deliciously engaged in exactly that when Lyle and two log-bearing footmen appeared, accompanied by Meadowsweet the second housemaid and young Polly, who worked in the kitchen or wherever errands sent her around the palace. They came in laden down with trays of covered dishes; Ollie dove for the closest one and made hasty space on Tir’s bedside desk, and tried not to think about what his hair and lips and shirt-collar looked like. Tir’s mouth was willing and tempting and thoroughly kissed.

He sat back down on the bed, crossed his legs, and inquired, with regard to the army of trays, “What in the name of the Great North—”

“Well, and we thought you might be hungry,” Meadow said, “having missed the feast and all, and Tir needs strength, you know,” and added one more plate to the table: blonde, cheerful, stubborn as an older sister. “Nothing fancy or fiddly, but good ham and some cheddar biscuits and my mum’s lemongrass chicken soup. It’ll warm you up.”

“Tea?” He investigated the silver pot.

Polly beamed at him. She had mismatched eyes, some silver-streaked fairy legacy someplace in her orphan past; she’d pestered Tir, in calmer days, to examine her for any other signs of magic. “Chocolate. Nice and hot and dark and sweet. We know what he likes.”

Tir took a sip of hot chocolate, and beamed right back at her. His cheeks were pinker, flushed by kisses and steam; his hair was tucked behind one ear, because Ollie’s hand had run through it, stroking it into place. Under blankets, with pillows and soft happy eyes, he looked cuddly and cherished and very much loved. Ollie had done that.

His chest expanded with pride.

The fire leapt upwards, hearty and hot.

The collected palace staff looked at Tir, and then at Oliver, and then at each other, and hastily vacated the room in order to perform unspecified other tasks. Lyle put his head back in to order, “Oliver, don’t tire that boy out!” and then closed the door definitively behind him, keeping them secluded.

“Hmm,” Tir said. “Imagine the new additions to the ballads. Ravished by a human.”

“I’ve been told not to tire you out,” Ollie pointed out, and fed him pieces of ham and cheddar biscuits for a while. He tried not to think about ravishment. He couldn’t help it now. Especially when Tir kissed his fingers after a bite, and those eyes sparkled.

He might’ve thought, if he’d had room to give it any thought, that kissing his best friend, the boy with whom he’d grown up and learned to use a telescope and gone through sword-training in the practice-yard, could be awkward. It hadn’t been.

It’d been easy. It’d been another piece of who they were together, new and familiar. A homecoming after a long journey away. A rediscovery, with clearer sight.

He wanted Tirian rather desperately, he’d found out. He wanted to know it all. To kiss every inch of what he’d once taken for granted. To learn.

Tir looked up from chicken soup. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, anything you want, go ahead.” He took the soup bowl when his fairy appeared to be done, and set it out of the way. The fire gossiped to the rain, cozy; he’d kicked boots off and let one leg dangle to the floor, sitting on the side of Tir’s bed. “If it’s about the wedding, I’m drawing the line at the white samite floor-length robes suggestion, thanks. I’d spill something on it at the first fitting. You know I would.”

“I like the way you look in blue,” Tir said. “All sort of blue and gold and big and tawny. Like an oversized version of that historical sun-god from the old Southern kingdoms. With a pencil behind your ear. Sorry, what was I asking you?”

“You got as far as asking whether you could ask me a question, and I said yes. The sun-god who gets chopped into pieces and swallowed by an alligator?”

“And brought back to life, and it’s a metaphor for the flood season. No. Um. I remember. You don’t…it’s not because you don’t want me, right?”

“Because I don’t what,” Oliver said, or thought he said. His lips moved, at least.

“We keep stopping,” Tir explained, sitting up. The hair got in his eyes again. “You—you kiss me, because I ask you to, and then you stop and pull away and—and tell me you don’t want to tire me out, or you’re worried about me breathing unevenly, or—or whatever it is next time, and I know I’ve wanted you for years but this is new for you and if you don’t—”

Ollie dove across the bed. Ended that sentence right there. Tir’s arms slid around him, holding him close, pulling him down on top. Ravishment, he thought, fairy-stories, seduction, and love. He demanded, lips brushing lips, kisses between words, “You think I don’t want you?”

“I said I was trying not to think you didn’t want me—”

“I am worried.” They’d ended up sprawled across the bed, Tir on his back amid pillows, hair dark and long against creamy sheets, eyes wide and not yet convinced but wanting to be, hopeful grey rivers under clouds. Ollie took his own weight, balanced atop him. “I don’t want to—to—we might, I don’t know, set back your recovery or something—”

“I asked Fadi, you adorable rutabaga.” Tir managed to kick him in the calf, no force behind it; the rivers got exultantly relieved by life-giving downpours. “Which you could’ve done if you were worried. He said I should be fine as long as we don’t try anything more than usually strenuous, and also that it’s about time we got around to this, because he was tempted to lock us in a broom closet.”

“You and the root vegetable comparisons,” Oliver grumbled, nibbling at his lips, his throat, the enticing little spot just below his jaw. “Is that a thing? Do you have a thing about root vegetables? Should I bring a carrot to bed? And is this okay?”

“I do not have a thing about—oh yes that’s very much okay, thank you—remind me to make a joke about the size of your carrot—” They were mostly dressed; he’d gotten Tir out of the top layer of banquet clothes and into a quilted robe, earlier, but hadn’t bothered with himself. The robe was nice; he could slide hands under it. Apparently the hands could make his fairy stop talking and gasp in pleasure. He did that again. Tir made a delighted tiny sound, a sound that went straight to his heart and shivered down his spine and made his toes tingle, a sound he’d remember hearing for the first time forever.

Nimble fairy-fingers were unlacing his shirt; they ran over his chest, curious and enchanted. “I admit to having had dreams about this…every time we went swimming, or you ran around the training yard in the summer with your shirt off…”

“Okay, unfair, now you have to tell me about those dreams—” His fingers froze on Tir’s hip. “You. Um. You, um. That—it’s not just—you have, um. In. Sort of. Reality. Have you?”

“What?” Tir managed to give him a quizzical head-tilt while lying down. “Would you please get back to what you were doing? I liked what you were doing. I love your hands. Artistic hands.”

“Tir,” Ollie said, not moving the hands, “that’s—that’s not helping.” Tir liked what he’d been doing. This sounded a lot like someone who hadn’t tried that, or the other thing, or the soon to be next thing, before. “You, ah…you know our wedding…”

“Yes,” Tir said, with the expression of a man trying to be patient but on the verge of kicking Ollie in the calf again, “our wedding, what about it?”

“The, um…the wedding…night…”

“Are you inquiring about the mechanics? I’m quite certain you know what we’re doing. You said as much to me after nearly every experience you had, growing up.”

“No! I mean, no, I’m so sorry about—how did you ever put up with me, I was awful, I’m awful to you, why didn’t you throw a book at my head—not, um, not me…are you, you know…you haven’t, um…” Now would be a perfect time for magical underhearing. It refused to assist.

Tir’s mouth fell open. This was unfairly attractive, though that might be because he was lying in bed with legs parted for Oliver to lie between, robe puddled in quilted invitation beneath him. “Are you trying to ask whether I’m a virgin?”

#original fic #my fic #inkshares fantasy contest #a prophecy for two #fluff #happy endings #yep #fantasy #m/m romance

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Men’s Necklaces Are Going Mainstream. Here’s How To Wear Them With Style

https://fashion-trendin.com/mens-necklaces-are-going-mainstream-heres-how-to-wear-them-with-style/

Men’s Necklaces Are Going Mainstream. Here’s How To Wear Them With Style

Unless you raided your dear mother’s jewellery box when you were younger or ran around South East Asia on your gap year like Leonardo DiCaprio in The Beach, chances are, as a man, you’ve never thought about thrusting a chain over your head.

But with an ever-increasing roll call of the coolest men in the world now opting for the men’s necklace (Gosling, Hemsworth, Rocky – need we say more?) and shifting attitudes towards a much-needed blurring of the previously gender stereotyping in fashion (men wear watches, women wear jewellery – let’s all groan in unison) now is as good a time as any to experiment with a chain over your head. Here we take a look at everything you need to get started, from picking the right pendant and length of chain to how you can fit it effortlessly into your already assembled wardrobe.

Ryan Gosling

The History Of Bling, From Henry VIII To 50 Cent

Men weren’t always so averse to a bit of bling around the scruff. The ancient Egyptians were proponents, studding their sheet gold neck wraps and strung beads with amulets and talismans to protect and bring luck to the wearer. Men of the Renaissance period were also fans with the extremely wealthy lavishing all manner of plaques, chains and pendants upon themselves as well as stupendous gem-laden creations that would stretch to their shoulders. Don’t believe us? Check out Henry VIII in his famous portrait by Hans Holbein, sporting a herculean gold chain that would put Run DMC to shame.

RUN DMC

This male love-in with the necklace died out in the 1600s, but returned in the second half of the 20th century when chains once again went from pious symbols of religion to conspicuous signifiers of wealth. Dog tags, Elvis and disco played their parts, but it was in hip-hop fashion that necklaces became the ultimate symbol of decadence with artists punching through the social hierarchy, the ice hanging around their necks offering proof of how far they’d climbed.

In the last decade men’s jewellery has evolved again, now more of a fashion accessory than anything else. Necklaces have sashayed down the men’s catwalk for the likes of Prada, Balmain and Raf Simons in recent seasons. And from high to low, even those unlikely fellas from reality TV show Love Island have been dolling up their perma-tanned torsos with online jewellery retailer Jewlr reporting a 500 per cent increase in sales of men’s necklaces while the show was on the air.

Balmain

“Men wearing jewellery is definitely having a renaissance,” says Alex Simpson, founder of men’s jewellery brand Alex Orso. “There has been a 1990s streetwear revival in recent seasons, which has seen chains, pendants, medallions and rings rise in popularity. This has been picked up on Instagram and street style blogs, which in turn has influenced the styling of characters on mainstream reality TV to create a self-perpetuating trend which I don’t believe has reached its crescendo yet.”

Picking Your Metal

The first step to making like the Pharaohs and the catwalk waifs is to pick out your necklace – starting with the material of your chain and then the pendant to add the unique styling that has made them so popular. “A necklace should feel comfortable and casual almost like a family heirloom,” says Michael Saiger, founder and creative director of US-based jewellery company Miansai.

An oxidised sterling silver chain offers a more masculine and timeless vibe with the colour shade working best in winter months underneath tailoring and next to navy blues and grey. A yellow gold chain is brighter creating a contrast that really pops against black while complimenting warmer tones like orange and brown.

If you’re looking for a casual necklace to fit with a more dressed-down style, then consider waxed cord which especially suits the summer months and days flaunting around the pool while a beaded necklace might have worrying gap year connotations but can add bulk and width to a skinny neck while drawing attention to a sharp jawline (if you’re blessed with one) and works well in combination with other chains.

David Yurman

There are also plated metals to consider but Saiger recommends sticking to the golden two if you are concerned about your skin reacting to the chain. “It’s always best to stick with only sterling silver and solid gold if you have sensitive skin. Those types of metals are extremely fine, and will not react to your skin regardless if you sleep with them or wear them just for the day.”

Aside from the material, there are also different chain designs with the interconnected oval links of a cable chain being the most common. Different chain designs will alter the feel and look of the necklace like the bulkier mesh chain (several different chains linked together for a textured look), the sturdy curb chain (interlocked links designed to lay flat) and the ever-so-fancy Figaro chain (an alternating pattern of differently sized flattened links).

Alex Orso

Make The Pendant Personal

Now, you can of course just stick with the chain, but adding a pendant brings that oh-so-important personality to your look with the ability to turn heads and get the conversation flowing at a dinner party quicker than you can say “Jam Master Jay”. Proud wearer of the men’s necklace Ryan Gosling, has the tag of his beloved dog George attached to his chain, after he sadly passed away in 2017.

However, there’s no prescription for the pendant and it’d be foolish to just follow the lead of the celebs. Just keep your eye out for something that you connect with or can regale an anecdote through, whether it’s a letter or a diamond-encrusted dollar sign. “Ultimately any purchase is personal and based on a selection process,” says Simpson. “What are you attracted to? What complements your style? And what does it say to others about your character?”

Along with a personal touch, Saiger advises looking towards vintage designs in a pendant. “Something that merges the past with the present will always be in style.” For example, one of the key styles at Miansai is the rolled penny necklace which takes its inspiration from the old penny machines found in museums and amusement parks.

David Yurman

Also, note that particular pendants have different meanings. An anchor is an age-old symbol of strength with obvious ties to the sea, while a popular motif for Los Angeles based jewellery brand Nialaya is the Hamsa hand, which is believed to ward off evil spirits and bad luck in Middle Eastern and North African cultures. Other popular pendant styles are the holy cross with its connotations to Christianity, the skull which represents mortality and the feather which is the universal symbol of peace, pacifism and spiritual unity.

“In all scenarios, it must feel natural and should never make you feel self-conscious,” says Simpson. “Some pendants are quite bold or heavy, so it’s worth thinking about where and how long you might be wearing the product.”

David Yurman

Choose Your Length

The most common length of the chain is between 18 and 22 inches, which will sit just below your collarbone while a long necklace will be around 26 to 30 inches long with the pendant hanging around your chest area. A longer chain will help elongate the neck while drawing attention to a broad chest, while a shorter chain will be more readily visible. Anything shorter than 18 inches and you’re getting into choker territory.

“We offer two lengths of chain with the longer length having a more relaxed feel for a night out,” says Simpson, “while the shorter length is to be worn with more formal pieces like a shirt.”

It’s also worth layering multiple chains and experimenting with varying lengths at any one time, with beads working particularly well in a shorter length against a longer chain.

Daniella Draper

How To Wear It

“Long pendant-style necklaces work well over either a loose crew neck or a V-neck T-shirt so the pendant follows the line of the V,” says Sarah Gilfillan, founder of personal styling consultancy Sartoria Lab. When putting together your outfit and necklace, Gilfallan also suggests matching metals for a more considered and put together look. For example, if you’re stepping out with a silver watch on your wrist and a silver buckle around your belt, go for that metal in your necklace choice too.

When it comes to the rest of your clothing choices, the offbeat addition of a necklace suits a casual look such as a white T-shirt and leather jacket according to Gilfillan. “If you do want to wear it with tailoring, I’d go for an open neck shirt with a simple chain showing at the neck of the shirt. If you want to make more of a statement and go for full-on 1980s look, then wear your shirt done up to the top with no tie but with a chain or pendant that is worn over the top of the shirt. Also, ensure your shirt collar is fairly small and neat, and avoid button downs so your necklace can be the point of focus.”

And to kill off two trends with one stone, Gilfillan regards the men’s necklace as the perfect accompaniment to the laissez-faire attitude of a Cuban collar shirt. “The current open neck camp collar shirt styles are perfect for showing off multiple necklaces. Wear with an extra button open to show off those necklaces, and style with slim cut turned up jeans and trainers, mixing gold and silver pendants and chains together for a contemporary look”.

The Kooples

The Best Brands For Men’s Necklaces

Miansai

Hailing from Miami, the bling bling capital of the world, Miansai offers surprisingly subtle signature pendants on chains or waxed cord. Riffing on nautical themes that include anchors, hooks and long, lost treasure in timeless, elegant designs the brand is also favoured by the celebrity crowd with Hollywood actors Zac Efron and Tom Holland both spotted wearing it.

Buy Now: £115.00

Thomas Sabo

Since its founding in 1984 German jewellery company Thomas Sabo has become one of the leading brands in both women’s and men’s jewellery as well as having their designs legally protected worldwide so no-one can steal them for themselves. Its pendants aren’t for the faint-hearted mind, with Day of the Dead skulls and daggers aplenty as well as chunky and colourful beads.

Buy Now: £139.00

Topman

If you were a British teenager in the 2000s there is every chance you raided the Topman bracelet section during your lunch hour with the high street chains necklace range similarly easy to pick up. Inexpensive, stylish and in a range of sizes and designs they make for good layering options with your more expensive pieces or as an entry point if you just want to dip your toes in the trend.

Buy Now: £10.00

Tateossian

A London jewellery maker where the emphasis is on the men rather than the women, Tateossian has become the go-to place for luxury cufflinks in its 28-year history. That’s not to say it doesn’t make a smashing necklace, with some intriguingly unique designs including a diamond pill crafted in aid of the Elton John Aids Foundation and tiny pieces of meteorite sourced from South America.

Buy Now: £295.00

Alex Orso

Minimalist masculinity is the name of the game for London jewellery brand Alex Orso. With pendants in bold designs from 22-carat bottle caps and Komodo dragon claws to polished stone shark tooths, Alex Orso takes a compelling shape and simplifies it for the man who wants to enhance his look, not complicate it. Each pendant comes with a brass chain which you can choose in a short or long style.

Buy Now: £115.00

Luis Morais

Wanting to ignite your inner Keith Richards hipster pirate? Well, a Luis Morais necklace is the one for you with the Brazilian jeweller’s rock and roll vibe favouring the boho beads, colourful skulls and mystic stones the rocker has built his look on.

Buy Now: $900.00

Emanuele Bicocchi

Of course no men’s style list would be complete without a tip of the hat to the Italians. And so we have Emanuele Bicocchi sauntering in for a welcome spritz of sprezzatura. Sterling silver reigns supreme in the Florence jewellery designers collection who has seen his quite gothic creations being worn by the likes of Zayn Malik and Russell Brand.

Buy Now: €149.00

Nialaya

A Dane in America, less a well-trodden Hollywood story trope, more the perfect setting for Jannik Olander to launch spirituality inspired jewellery brand Nialaya. Handcrafted in a Los Angeles workshop, religious imagery from the East features prominently in the designs (especially from Buddhism) which are bang-on for the cosmo gent who wants it to look like he found himself in the local temple on his backpacking tour but really never left the side of the pool.

Buy Now: $219.00

Northskull

Excuse the name, Northskull is not some Danish death metal group born out of the depths of hell, rather it’s an elegant jewellery brand just for us boys. Based in London, reasonable price points and straightforward designs make it an easy choice for those guys who want the designer look to slot into their daily wardrobe without having to shell out on overpriced rosary beads.

Buy Now: £220.00

Sif Jakobs

If you’re worried that the addition of a necklace will have you come across all wannabe show-off rapper, then take a gander at the Sif Jakobs collection of pendants and tell us there is no subtlety in donning a necklace. The Scandinavian jewellery maker creates all its jewellery out of sterling silver and focuses its design on a similar rectangular design spun through various different twists.

Buy Now: €129.00

Serge DeNimes

The fashion brand of Made In Chelsea star and menswear influencer Oliver Proudlock, Serge DeNimes draws heavily on Proudlock’s taste and penchant for boho-chic necklaces. Ever the pacifist, the feather is a recurring motif in Proudlock’s collection as is the patron saint of travellers, Saint Christopher.

Buy Now: £40.00

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