#future glass merchants song I know it

[latenightgasstationwalk]

#saving this for later #future glass merchants song I know it #guitar #Dsharp

[wildemaven]

Farmers Market: Saturday Afternoon with Javier- Part 2

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: T

Words: 895

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and food; if I missed anything, please let me know

A/N: This is a part 2 to this story. I wanted it to be from the reader’s perspective, so hopefully it reads that way. I’m not really sure how I feel about it as a whole, I rewrote it a few times in areas, but think I got it to a place where it mirrors Javier’s perspective like I was wanting it too. Also, in case it isn’t obvious when reading, italics are written as flashbacks. I think that’s it. Enjoy!

Masterlist / Saturdays with Javier Masterlist / Part 1

Having someone like Javier as a constant in your life was an indescribable feeling. His presence brought you a sense of security. Your days now lived with more intention and brilliance.

It’s a balmy Saturday afternoon and you find yourself tucked securely into Javier’s side as you make your way through your favorite weekend spot.

Mornings are a little different. Waking in his arms to soft kisses and tangled limbs before the sun bleeds through the windows of your shared home announcing the new day— loved and protected.

You find yourselves weaving through the mass of market goers. Fresh baked breads and brewed coffee, a refreshing aroma. The weight of Javier’s touch never far— he’s got you.

Your list ready, empty tote awaiting the days finds.

You’ve never been one for grandiose gestures, you found beauty in quiet appreciation. Javier loved celebrating you, grand accomplishments or small triumphs, he found any reason to show how much he adored you. After moving in together months ago, he’d left a bouquet of baby’s breath tucked inside a vase you’d inherited from your grandmother with a small note placed beside it—

I love you - JP

For a week the sweet flowers would live in that spot on your kitchen table until a new bundle replaced them. Every week that little bundle of flowers brought you so much comfort.

Javier shared his plans for the week in between bites of his custard filled pastry wandering on to the next merchant. The path always the same each visit. Javier had mentioned he appreciated the normalcy each visit brought him, a welcomed routine.

That dim lit bar wasn’t your first choice that evening. You weren’t immediately convinced anything would come of this blind-date when you’d stepped into the bustling dive bar tucked away on the outskirts of Laredo. If all you left with was the thrilling experience of glitchy neon beer signs, sticky table tops and keyed up jukebox tunes, you’d see it as a bucket list experience and call it a night. The 30 min tardiness on his part only added to the proof of why you didn’t date in this manner.

Javier’s presence is all-encompassing. He guides you through each spot you’ve visited numerous times before. Casually moving from stall to stall to visit the merchants, now dear friends whose chats you’ve grown to cherish deeply. Their goods now weekly necessities in your home.

The upbeat tune drowns out the chatter amongst the other bar dwellers. Condensation pooling beneath the glass of beer you’ve been sipping for the last hour. Tonight’s impending letdown slowly becoming an afterthought.

You’d lost sight of Javier while picking up a few loaves of sourdough, remembering Chucho had mentioned he just used up the last of his. Across the way he was chatting with the local florist. Early on, Javier never strayed far from your side, always allowing you to lead the way. But more and more, you catch him browsing, sometimes grabbing things that catch his eye.

The trajectory of your night shifts as a slow ballad quiets the smoke hazed room. You find your arms resting on the shoulders of a stranger you’d just met. His hands placed gently but firm on your hips as you both sway to the acoustic chords. The song far too established for only just meeting merely minutes ago, but it holds promise for a possible future. The chorus fills the air, your eyes locked with his. There’s an unspoken feeling you both share, time suspended around you— he’s captivating.

Fresh bundle of babies breath tucked under his arm, the other wrapped around your shoulders. A quick kiss to the top of your head as you double check your list, everything accounted for.

Last call has been announced and yet you don’t want this night to end. The exchange of life stories between you both has been easy. The cadence of his voice has you hanging onto his every word, longing for endless conversations. The gravel crunches with each step as he walks you to your car, drawing out your departure as much as possible. The invite, albeit impulsive, had left your mouth before you’d even realized it. He accepted immediately, meeting this Saturday at the city’s Farmers Market. The kiss, felt long after you’d parted ways and his spicy musk lingering in the air as you drive home, he was everywhere and you needed more of him— Javier Peña.

The late afternoon light filters through the trees, crowds of people gathering near the live band preparing to start their next set. Catching a few songs from headlining acts for the weekend was always your last stop before heading home.

The first few chords of a song begin to play as you push through to look for an available spot. Sidestepping through clusters of other concert viewers, pulling Javier along with you.

The words you instantly recognized, you smile as you continued on, finding an opening near the front. A squeeze to Javier’s hand— our song.

He promises sunsets and picnics by the lake. He promises laughter and long conversations over dinner. A promise to always kiss away your tears and bring you flowers when you need them most. He promises slow dances in dim lit dive bars until they’re kicking you out. He promises all his Saturday afternoons. He asks you for forever— Yes!

#Javier Peña #Pedro pascal #javier peña x you #wildemaven writes #Saturdays with Javier #javier peña x reader

[fanmoose12]

a little something for @bruciesnat :) i know i've promised it like a lifetime ago, sorry for the delay! oh, and i decided to combine it with a prompt i also received a long while ago <3

Mike doesn't know why he's doing this. Doesn't understand how he agreed to it, can't comprehend why Erwin would make him do it. Mike doesn't know what he had done to deserve this- this punishment.

He's- he's a good man. An honest one. He serves to ensure the future of humanity, he risks his life to give others a better one.

He's good at it too, he's excellent at fighting and slashing and scouting. He was the best one at it, before- before the annoying midget came.

The same annoying midget, who is insanely strong and easily irritated. The same annoying midget, who has a crush on their adorable Hange. Hange, who Mike has to seduce to test Erwin's theory that Levi, insanely strong, easily irritated Levi, truly has a crush on their Hange.

Mike swallows heavily as he sits next to Hange, just a little too close as Erwin instructed. He smells that it won't end well.

He cringes, as he puts his arm around her shoulders.

Mike likes Hange, a lot actually. Sometimes he feels like they're siblings that were torn apart by some bigger entity. So yeah, he likes Hange. But definitely not like that.

But, oh well, anything for the cause, right?

"Hey, Hans," he murmurs, adopting his most seducting tone. He hopes that his smile is charming enough to captivate their dear scientist. "Are you free tonight? I have two tickets to the theater perfomance," he leans in closer, lowering his voice to what could probably (Mike is an eternal optimist!) be called an enticing whisper. "They're showing the creation of the the Walls tonight."

Somewhere on his periphery, Mike can see a swift dark shadow that oozes the smell of detergent. That shadow, it grows closer, its aura becoming more menacing.

Mike can only hope that if Levi attempts to kill him, Erwin would intervene.

Although... knowing Erwin, he'd just write Mike's death off as a necessary sacrifice.

He takes his hand off Hange. The shadow retreats a few steps back.

"Sorry, Mike," Hange shrugs with a small, apologizing smile. "I showed that play to Levi a few weeks ago. I had my fill of religious propaganda for now. But if you're looking for someone to accompany you," she winks and turns around. Mike's heart sinks. "Levi really liked going to the theatre! He'll be happy to tag along, right, Levi?"

Mike meets Levi's eyes, and sees nothing but desire for murder inside.

Mike quickly scrambles to his feet. "You know, I'll just ask Gelgar to go with me. I'm sure he doesn't have anything better to do."

And they can get wasted afterwards. Mike really needs that after this conversation.

Just as he retreats, Levi takes his place, sitting down next to Hange, also just a little too close.

The mission had failed spectacularly, but, Mike consoles himself, at least he learned that Hange and Levi went to theatre together. And sometimes intel is more important than the victory, right?

Ah, if only Erwin would share his opinion on that.

***

Erwin's second attempt is even worse than the first one, but, at least, this time it doesn't directly involve Mike. Still, he's an unwilling spectator to it, and, just as the last time, he doesn't like where all of this is going.

He already feels bad for the poor guy Erwin hired to hit on Hange during the annual military ball. Where did Erwin get the money - did he take them from the Corps' funds or his own allowance, Mike doesn't know, and, frankly, he isn't sure which option is more disturbing.

At least, the actor is handsome, Mike doesn't know if Hange would like him, he doesn't know if she has a type, and if she does, he hopes it's not annoying midgets, but the guy is handsome, there is no denying that.

Hange has cleaned up fairly well too, the white suit looks excellent on her, bringing out all of her best assets, demonstrating her wide hips and lean, long legs. The hair, gathered in a neat bun, shows her long, gorgeous neck, and the light make-up make her even more gorgeous than usual.

When she and Erwin walked through the front door - him in his blue suit and Hange in her white, symbolising their Wings of Freedom, everyone had their breath taken away.

Even Mike was a little shocked to see Hange dressed up like this, and Levi, who stood right next to him, was completely blown away, staring at Hange with wide-eyed, lovestruck look.

Thanks to Levi's ridiculous expression, Mike now understands why Erwin goes to such length to bring their resident weirdos together. It is delightful to watch Levi behave like that, and Mike longs to see more of this side of him.

Soon after Hange and Erwin make their grand entrance, their guy makes the first move.

He approaches Hange, his eyes bright and smile so charming it makes Mike envious that Hange is at the receiving end of it. He kisses her hand, whispers something in her ear.

"He praises her recent experiment. I thought it was a good place to start," Erwin explains quietly to him.

"Ah," Mike nods. So Erwin thought every detail through? Not surprising at all. "Think this would have an effect on Levi?"

"It already does," Erwin says, pointing to a furious cloud of black hair and suit that is approaching them at a rapid speed.

"Has four-eyes lost all shame?" Levi practically growls, his eyes throwing flames. "Is she seriously flirting with a fucker from the MP?"

"He's not a soldier," Mike answers, reciting a legend Erwin created. "He's actually a wealthy merchant from the South. Heard he sells apples to the King himself."

"And since when Hange is interested in someone like him," Levi crosses hands on his chest, his glare turning even darker, as Erwin's actor takes Hange by the hand and leads her to the dance floor.

"You know, you can ask Hange to a dance," Erwin advices with a pleased smile. "Then she won't be able to flirt with others."

Levi scoffs. "I would rather fight a horde of titans than dance with stinky four-eyes."

Maria, Rose and Sina, Mike thinks. They're worse than children.

"Hange has taken a bath before coming here," he tells Levi.

Levi rolls his eyes. "And now she looks even more awful than usual."

Mike shares a look with Erwin. Does Levi prefer usual Hange, when she doesn't bath for days and her eyes water from the lack of sleep? It almost sounds cute.

"This is the last time I'm attending this shitty ball," Levi swears to Erwin. "Even wine here is shitty."

He marches away immediately after that, heading to the table with wine. Mike can barely stop his laughter, as he watches Levi take a glass of wine, drink a few large gulps of it, and then wince, his mouth moving as he probably murmurs violent curses. He doesn't take his eyes off Hange and her dance partner, and relaxes only when the song ends.

Both Mike and Erwin watch intently as the actor kisses Hange's hand once again. Hange blushes, and Mike almost coos. Levi grabs another glass of wine.

When the actor starts leading Hange away, in the direction of the balcony, Levi starts moving too. He intercepts them just at the edge of the ballroom.

Mike knows he should have expected something like that, knows that Levi doesn't exactly possess the best of manners, but pouring wine over someone? Over his own colleague and friend? Mike certainly didn't expect that.

He's delighted to see what happens next, though.

What happens is that Hange's gorgeous white suit is ruined and Levi wraps his hand around her wrist and drags her to the bathroom. He sports a unusually pleased expression and Hange is laughing herself silly.

Not a bad ending to this endeavor, Mike thinks.

"Another disaster," Erwin sighs.

***

Third time is a charm, or so Mike hopes.

This time Erwin decides to take matter in his hands, and that another sign that this plan will succeed.

The plan is simple, yet, hopefully, effective. Erwin is to whisk Hange away to some remote location, create a scene that would look like a moment between lovers, and Mike is to call Levi there and make sure he witnesses it all.

Erwin is a brave man, Mike thinks, as his Commander explains the plan to him. He would never dare to do something like that to humanity's strongest. To awaken his jealous streak... Mike is glad he's not in Erwin's place.

One sunny afternoon, the plan is set in motion. Erwin takes Hange, and Mike goes to find Levi.

He finds him fairly quickly, in the middle of cleaning Hange's room. Man, he could at least try to make his crush be less discreet. But that's beside the point now, because Levi is cleaning Hange's room and not watching Erwin and Hange. Mike confidently strides up to him.

"Levi! I've just been looking for you."

"What do you need?" he asks boringly. "And have you seen four-eyes? I can't find her all day."

Erwin prepared some legend, a reason why Mike needs Levi, but in the heat of the moment, Mike can't remember a single word. So he just yells "Come with me!" and hope that Levi follows.

Thankfully, he does.

Mike leads him to the stables, where Erwin is already at it. His palm is on the wall, next to Hange's head, and from Mike's point of view, it certainly looks like they're in the middle of... something naughty.

Next to him, Levi tenses, and Mike can practically hear his teeth grinding.

Mike prepares for something very ugly, but then...

"I- I didn't know that Erwin and four-eyes-" oh, fuck, it sounds like Levi is genuinely sad, like he's heartbroken or something. Mike feels a strange desire to hug the little guy and pat his head. But then he remembers that he and Erwin are the reason for Levi's distress right now, and... remorse starts kicking in.

"Levi, listen, it's not-"

"Levi!"

As always, Hange is the one to save the day.

She breaks free from Erwin and sprints to Levi, a wide smile on her face. "You won't believe what Erwin had just told me! He gave me permission to go in the town's library and bring back all the books I want! I'm in dire need of your muscles, humanity's strongest, you'll go with me, right?"

Levi still seems grouchy, but under Hange's sunny grin, his angry facade crumbles. "I don't know if Commander will allow it..."

He doesn't even try to hide his bitterness and irration. Mike disguises his chuckle as a coughing fit.

"Erwin!" Hange turns to him, eyes pleading. "Can Levi go with me?"

"Sure," Erwin nods. "Take all the time you need."

Hange yells in triumph, loud enough to make Mike wince. She grabs Levi by the hand and drags him away. Erwin watches them with a wistful smile.

"I don't think we should get involved in their relationships," Mike says, as he approaches Erwin. He stands close to his Commander, their shoulders pressing against each other. "We should let them figure it out themselves."

"Agreed," Erwin says. "I'm sure they'll manage well enough even without us."

Mike watches Hange wrap her arm around Levi, and is inclined to agree. They will certainly manage without them both.

Or, at least, Hange is able to manage.

And that should be enough.

#levihan

[resonating-kitty]

Dreambur - Pirate AU fic requested by @peppsta

Using the sentence “You’re too distracting with your handsome face and… your… everything!” (Took a bit of creative liberty to make it work)

I am happy with how this turned out. I've been a bit too critical of my writing lately but I generally like this one. Peppsta I hope this fits what you had in mind with the prompt! :)

I hope you all enjoy!

-

Wilbur laughed, joyous, as the wind hit his face. The open sea was such a wonderful place! His love of its wonders and mysteries and melodies was endless. He was a traveling musician, a quite successful one at that. His music was known all across the world and many lords and kings requested his presence to perform at their castles. That’s what he was doing now, headed back to England, summoned by his Majesty’s request to perform at the annual ball.

“Mr. Soot please get down from there!” The Captain’s orders barked hastily at him had him turning with a grin. He was standing up on the bowspirit of the ship and the Captain of the vessel was standing just behind him, hands on his hip and a growing annoyance in his eyes.

Wilbur relented, his boots hitting the bed with a thud as he hopped down to stand beside the Captain. He fixed the older man with an innocent look and a charming smile, “I do apologize Captain. I love the sea so much that I sometimes cannot help myself.”

The Captain regarded him with a knowing look and sighed, “Just please refrain from doing it in the future. It makes the crew nervous. None of us want to report to his Majesty that his requested musician fell overboard.”

“Of course Captain!” Wilbur saluted, mockingly.

The Captain opened his mouth, no doubt to reprimand the action, but was stopped by a frantic call from above.

“Captain! Captain! Skull and crossbones on the horizon!”

The Captain whirled into action, turning full circle to run to the helm. Curious, Wilbur followed closely.

“Pirates?” He asked, excitedly but none around him seemed to share his enthusiasm.

The Captain shot him a sharp look, wordlessly taking the spyglass that was handed to him. He looked through it, curses falling from his lips.

“It’s the bloody Speedrunner!” The Captain announced, turning for the wheel. He started to bark orders. Raise the sails, all hands on deck. “Mr. Soot below deck!” was the Captain’s last order.

Wilbur protested but the Captain cut him off. “Sir, whether you like it or not, you are under my command until you reach shore and you will do as I say and I’m telling you to go below deck.”

Wilbur was escorted below deck, not before he got a peak at the fastly approaching vessel. The light vibrant green sails of the ship stood in stark contrast to the jolly roger waving above them. ‘Tacky’ Wilbur thought as he was ushered below deck.

-

Try as she might, the merchant vessel was no match for the speed of the pirate ship. The Captain gritted his teeth as soon, his crew and his ship was completely taken over by the ragtag group of pirates.

“Dream,” The Captain gritted out with annoyance, heedless of the gun and cutlasses that were pointed at him and his crew. Dream usually never spilt blood during his raids and the Captain had been at sea long enough, had met with the pirate in these exact situations enough times, to know that the show of aggression was all bluff.

The Pirate Captain wasn’t much. He was tall and slim and didn’t even look or dress like a Captain. He wore dirty ragged clothes, a lime green bandana tied around his head to keep his dirty blond hair pulled back. He also wore a mask over the lover portion of his face, hiding all but his emerald green eyes from view. No one had ever seen his face and if they had, rumors had it they never lived to tell about it.

The Captain had no intention of doing that. He just watched the cocky pirate as he sauntered up to him.

“Sparklez!” Dream greeted happily, throwing his hands out, “what a surprise that we ran into each other again while you were transporting goods!”

Captain Sparklez pinched the bridge of his nose, insisting tiredly, “Just get what you came to get and leave”

Dream was grinning under his mask as he laughed, “Glad we have an understanding Captain,” he turned to a couple of his crew, “Alright boys, you heard the Captain, go see what’s below deck for the taking!”

A couple of the crew, a slightly shorter man with dark hair and a white headband tied around his head, a thin man with glasses and wearing a black, red trimmed, cloak, and another pirate that appeared to be in a full reindeer costume, headed below deck.

Captain Sparklez hoped they didn’t discover Wilbur but his hopes were dashed when muffled shouting sounded from below.

“What the hell?” Dream demanded, going to the stairs to call down, “Everything okay!”

“Look what we found!” Came the replying yell moments before the pirates were reappearing and dragging Wilbur with them. “He was trying to hide behind the salmon.”

Wilbur was pushed before the pirate captain. Wilbur looked up with wide eyes. Dark brown met emerald green. Both seem to freeze.

“Got something you wanna tell us Captain Sparklez?” The pirate in the black cloak asked, suspiciously. He glanced at Wilbur then his own Captain, who was still frozen.

“The boy is headed to Britian. He’s but a musician who hired me to ferry him.” Captain Sparklez answered hastily. He also was looking at Wilbur and Dream. “He is an innocent bystander in all of this.”

The pirate opened his mouth, possibly to ask more questions but he was cut off by his Captain.

‘Who are you?” Dream asked Wilbur, his voice soft and held none of the cockiness it had before.

Both crews, pirate and merchant, looked at the two with raised eyebrows and some with shocked expressions.

“Wilbur. Wilbur Soot.” Wilbur answered earnestly and Captain Sparklez facepalmed and muttered, “Boy, don’t engage with the pirate.”

“Why?” Wilbur asked, glancing at Sparklez, “He’s interesting.”

Laughter erupted from Dream. “Yeah Sparklez,” He said, his voice playful and teasing as he looked at the merchant ship’s Captain, “I’m interesting.”

“Please don’t feed his ego.” One of the pirates, a man dressed in light blue with a pair of goggles covering his eyes, warned in exasperation and Dream whirled around to face him.

“Oh shut up George, he can feed my ego as much as he wants to.” Dream demanded though the grin was evident in his voice. George just rolled his eyes at his Captain. Dream turned back, winking at Wilbur, who’s cheeks colored pink.

“So Mr. Soot, you do music?” Dream asked, conversationally as he leant against the mast of the ship.

“Dream, what about the cargo?” The pirate with the white headband asked and Dream waved him off with an order, “Start loading it on the Speedrunner obviously.”

“Dumbass,” the pirate muttered before motioning to a few of the crew and they disappeared below deck.

“I… I uh… yeah.” Wilbur muttered, “I’m actually on my way right now to perform for his Majestic at the castle.”

Dream whistled, impressed, “You’re Mr. Popular then aren’t you?”

Wilbur laughed softly, shaking his head. His brown curls bouncing on top of his head, “Something like that”

“What are some of your songs? Perhaps I’ve heard some of them?” Dream questioned. A crash was heard and his attention snapped to his crew and the box of produce that was now spilling out over the deck, hollering, “Hey be careful with the goods. We need those!”

“Sorry Captain.”

Dream turned back to Wilbur, “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Let’s see there’s Jubilee Line, Since I Saw Vienna, Soft Boy, Saline Solution, Maybe I was Boring.”

“I’ve heard that one!” Dream exclaimed, eyes shining, “Maybe I was Boring. It was being sung in one of the pirate owned taverns. The guy singing it was trying to pass it off as one of his own but he didn’t look smart enough to come up with something so beautiful.”

“Yes well, as I’m sure you are well aware, there are thieves in every trade I’m afraid,” Wilbur sighed before he seemed to catch the last part of the sentence, “Wait you think my song is beautiful?”

“That’s not the only thing I think is beautiful,” Dream’s voice dropped as he reached up and closed the space between them. They were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Callahan was standing to the side, he looked apologetic.

“I do not mean to alarm anyone and I certainly hate to break up whatever is transpiring between the two of you, Captain but there is a ship on the horizon. Looks like the Navy.”

Wilbur was left at the mast as Dream stepped quickly to the side of the ship and took the spyglass from George. He looked through it, muttering out a curse before barking, “Everyone back to the ship!”

His crew reached instantly.

“What about this ship?” the pirate in the white headband asked almost eagerly as he headed for the ropes that connected the two ships together, “You said we could start sinking them.”

“What?!” Sparklez’s outraged voice rose up as panicked murmurs rose up from the crew. Wilbur’s breath caught in his throat.

“Not this one,” Dream said, his voice steeled with finality. Emerald eyes met dark brown once more, “Today this ship was saved by a distracting handsome face and everything else. So long for now and Mr. Soot? I’m sure you and I will meet again in the future”

Dream gave a little salute before joining his crew and soon the Speedrunner was just a speck in the distance as the Naval ship approached.

Wilbur stood at the bow of the ship, watching as the pirate ship disappeared in the distance. A soft smile on his lips and his whole body was warmed. The pirate captain certainly was charming wasn’t he.

“Charming?” Sparklez repeated with alarm as the Naval ship pulled up alongside them and Wilbur realized that he must’ve uttered the sentence out loud. A hand fell on his shoulder and the Captain leaned down to speak quietly, a warning, “Son let me tell you something, no matter how ‘charming’ he may be, at the end of the day he’s a pirate and you need to stay well away from him. He’s dangerous, not only in general, but also to your career.”

Wilbur tried to heed Captain Sparklez warning but he couldn’t get his mind off the oddly charming pirate. He hoped that Dream was being sincere when he said they would meet each other again because he was looking forward to it.

#dreambur #pirate au #writing prompt request #dream #wilbur soot #mcyt fanfiction #kitty writes

[violetgardens]

A Rainy Day Takes the Stress Away.

♔Zhongli + Female!Reader ♔

♚Working at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor in the bustling city of Liyue Harbor can be tiring work. On a specific rainy day, when the city was quiet and the rain as his acquaintance does he make his way home for some well needed stress relief. ♚

♔nsfw under cut. ♔

“Drip… drop… drip…”

The streets of Liyue were filled with crowds. Consumers rushed to get under builds as the skies started to cry a melancholic tune. Businesses were quick to close their stands and rushed inside as the thunder boomed. The Millelith stood at their posts, umbrellas in hand. As the sky started to pour down harder, the clouds covered the sun and darkness engulfed Liyue Harbor. 

Such minor issues did not bother Mr. Zhongli though, as he sat in his chair at his desk and continued filling out papers as consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. His assistant was quick to rush into the business, drenched from the rain that poured outside. He simply looked up and nodded his head before getting back to his writings. 

Rain filled him with a sense of relaxation, a time of peace. Days where he could find himself thinking of the older days of Liyue and how prosperous it would be without Rex Lapis. Or days where he could recollect the past memories of archon war to which he would tell Aether whenever they had visited an area or went out for tea. Even days where he could sit at Xiangling’s restaurant and reminisce, basking in the warmth of the small rain drops. 

He sighed to himself before putting his pen down and closing his folder, his back was aching and he needed a break, thus, he called off work for the rest of the day. 

Walking to his home down the empty streets of Liyue (save for a few merchants and vendors who still had carts up) had given him a lonely feeling, one lacking the warmth that the bustling streets of Liyue usual had as he walked home. His longing for a better Liyue without him had affected him in a way that seeing the lack of people and interaction on the streets left him in a state of dread. He pushed through the storm and hurriedly walked the rest of the way to his home when the rain began to pour harder than before. 

“Drip… drop… drip…”

The rain cascaded off the roof of his small home creating a waterfall between him and his front door. Swiftly evading the water, he held his hands towards the knob, the color a beautiful gold. It didn't take long for him to realize you were home, the sweet aroma of one of the delicacies in Mondstadt, Sticky Honey Roast. It put a smile on his face as he opened the door, the sound alerting to you that he was home, and quite early. 

“Welcome home Zhongli!” you said ecstatically, not expecting him to be home before you finished cooking. A large smile plastered on your face before you ran to get him a towel to dry off. He gratefully took it, waving you a small hello and muttering a thank you, reciprocating a smile. He started to remove his gloves, his hands calloused from the many fights he had endured. You took his gloves in your hands while he started to remove his coat, still drenched from the storm outside. Removing the top button of his shirt and tie, he heaved a heavy sigh. Lastly, he took off the band that held his hair together, allowing it to fall to his shoulders. You smiled bigger than before at his relaxed form.

“Feeling better? You look tired. Here, come sit with me” you said while grabbing his hand and leading him to a chair in which he comfortably sat in. You rushed over to the stove and put out the fire that cooked the food, letting it sit, and began making him a cup of tea. 

“I’m feeling fine, although I seem to have an ache in my shoulders, nothing I cannot do about, though” he started as he graciously took the cup of tea out of your hands and took a sip, the heat warming his body. It wasn’t unusual to see Zhongli in a state like this. He was easily able to let off his guard around you because he trusted you more than anyone else. You were genuinely happy when he was able to let go of his standard demeanor and be himself. 

He put down the cup and looked towards you as you got up to stand behind him. Your hands found his way into his hair, combing your fingers through it. This elicited a soft humming of approval from him while you continued. Your hands slowly fell to his shoulders and softly started to massage him from the base of his neck towards the tips of his shoulders. He laid his head back in content against your body and closed his eyes, basking in the peaceful silence between the two of you. 

“That’s great to hear,” you said, breaking the silence and looking down towards his peaceful face. This man had never ceased to make you blush, his features becoming more and more clear to you since the day he’d met you in the Guili Plains. 

- ♔

The Guili plains are a magnificent area. Full of many ruins, one would think it was quite dangerous to traverse. But you were different. Today you were on the lookout for glaze lilies, the flowers that would thrive off of melodic singing and gave off a beautiful blue hue that lit up any area. Smiling to yourself, you ran over to a desolate area of the plains where the glaze lily buds were peacefully sitting. You sat in between the buds and started singing a tune of old you had learnt previously from a storyteller in Liyue. 

“♫ ♪ ♫~”

The buds started opening and the lilies were in full form. Unbeknownst to you though, one of the buds was not what you thought. It sprung off the ground, a cryo whopperflower looking straight in your direction whilst the other glaze lilies were destroyed by its presence. You shrieked and jumped back, making a run for it. It wasn’t until more creatures began to aggro you, creating more obstacles for you that were hard to escape from. The rumors were right, Guili plains were certainly a dangerous place. Every twist in turn there was a new enemy that would stop you in your place. Ranged hilichurls, mitachurls, heck even abyss mages and ruin guards followed your path as you tried to escape back to Liyue Harbor. 

You were running out of breath and needed to hide somewhere, taking your chances and running over to a tree. There, you saw a man. 

Zhongli had taken his day off to come to the Guili plains, a sight he could not forget. He recollected all of his memories from the archon war, and stood in front of a lake pondering the future of Liyue. Lost in thought, he had not seen the commotion that went on around him until he found you right next to him, breathlessly holding on to one of his arms as you looked up to him pleadingly. Then, he turned around and saw a ruin guard following you. Quickly connecting the dots he told you to stay put and walked over to the ruin guard, spear in hand. 

And within a moment. It was over. Blink and you’ll miss it.

He walked back over to you once he finished surveying the area. Your eyes held a look of awe as you clutched your chest and hurriedly met with Zhongli, to which you shot a nice smile. He nodded before looking back down to you.

“You do know these plains are quite dangerous. Given that you have come here with no more than a basket and no weapon, I can assume you are not a fighter. What brings you here?” He asked with a questioning tone. His assumption made you blush with embarrassment, for what he said was true. You had come only to pick glaze lilies, not be attacked by hordes of monsters. But you digress. Clearing your throat you muttered to him, “I have come to pick the glaze lilies. A storyteller once said that singing a song of the past would bring them to bloom, and once he told me of their beauty I had to come and check them out. Though, I was not expecting a whopperflower to attack me… and then… well, you know the rest” rubbing the back of your head with a cheeky smile. He put his hand on his chin and closed his eyes and looked back at you. “Well, I suppose I could help you find these lilies. They are a special part of Liyue’s history after all” he started. “It is rather rude of me to interject into your plans. Please, allow me your name first? Apologies for not asking first.” 

“Oh, I’m (Y/N). Nice to meet you. And yours?”

“Zhongli. A pleasure as well. Shall we go find those flowers?”

- ♔

And thus was the start of your relationship. One started on the brinks of your own death that blossomed into a love just as the glaze lilies displayed their beauty towards the songs of Liyue. It’s a story that always makes you chuckle, for if Zhongli hadn’t saved you that day who knows what might’ve happened. Sighing contently, you smiled down to the man you now call your love, and leaned down to give him a peck. His hands met yours that sat on his shoulders and he reciprocated the kiss.

“Drip… drop.. drip…”

The rain continued to pour on the glass on your window. The aroma of the roast is still in the air. A lovely little house on the side of the harbor that consisted of small artifacts from your travels and stories of long ago. Comfy, perfect fit for two. And the sight on the inside, well…

One could say it’s a sight that keeps you coming back.

He sat straight up on the chair, his shoulders loosely hanging. His shirt, once buttoned down by his collar, thrown into the disheveled mesh of clothing that sat in a pile. His face, bright red and sweating profusely from the contact making his hair stick to his forehead and back. Labored breaths came out as he groaned quite loudly, much different from his composed demeanor. Was this the same Zhongli as everyone at his work or on the streets would see? The one who knows every inch of history in Liyue? One of the most attractive men on the harbor who seemed unfazed by everything?

No. This is your Zhongli. One that the public would never see. 

He tilted his head back in surprise when you took more of him in, his grip tight in your hair and his other hand slicking his hair back and out his face. He shut his eyes tightly, mouth slightly parted as he tried to hide his groans. Yet you weren’t one to hold back. While he may have been bare, you on the other hand had been fully clothed. Why not tease him a bit? He works too hard, it’s time to take care of him. 

You slowly retracted your mouth from his cock before looking back up at him. He looked to submissive, so innocent as you tore down his walls and opened up a new world for him. His grip on your hair loosened and he cupped your cheeks, looking down in your eyes with fervor. You took this opportunity to sweetly smile at him as if you were innocent, and grabbed his member again to stroke it. This aroused him even more, the look in his eyes getting more intense and his hand going back into your hair. You knew what he wanted, slowly sticking your tongue out to lick the tip of his cock before taking it in once again. This elicited a noise from Zhongli, the intense pleasure coming within seconds, too quick for him. You bobbed your head up and down, closing your eyes when he hit the back of your throat, slightly choking. You hummed, the vibrations sending more pleasurable sensations through his body. 

He was going to cum. You knew him too well. 

You stopped all motion before he could, and looked back at him, slightly panting. He eyed you lowly, a mixture of disappointment and urgency on his face. You chuckled before standing up and placing a kiss to his forehead, an action that he always cherished. He wondered what your next move would be. You had left him bare and yet here you stood, fully clothed, even your apron was still on. 

It was as though you could read his mind. You simply hushed him, bringing him out of his thoughts and ran a finger under his chin, lifting his head up. Gracefully taking a step back, you ran your hands over clothed breasts and down to your hips, shaking your body in tune. He sighed, trying to repress himself. He had long forgotten the name of Rex Lapis, one of war, and had reduced himself to Zhongli, a mortal. Yet the dominating aura of Rex Lapis stayed with him just as it had been displayed all those years ago. He knew he had to stop himself before he went over to you and ripped off your clothes himself and made you his. He breathed in a shaky breath, resting his hand on one leg and the other grabbing his shaft, slowly rubbing himself. 

You loved breaking him down, knowing that he would be unable to show his dominance, that he had to repress himself. The sight made you smile as you removed the apron, the cloth swiftly falling to your feet. You kick it away, moving your hands to the buttons on your dress. Each undoing felt slower and slower to Zhongli, his pace going faster as if demanding you to hurry up. He ached for you as lust clouded his mind yet he is powerless in the situation. You watched him, smile still plastered on your face while you undid the last button, your body in full view. Letting it cascade off your shoulders, you watched as his eyes widened and his breathing began to get heavier. 

“Oh dear. Don’t cum.”

A demand that made him stop, both eyes focused on you. His amber irises glistened over with lust, cheeks red, drenched in sweat. God, that turned him on even more. And just as you removed the last article of clothing he breathed a sigh of relief that he could finally be given the long awaited pleasure he was seeking. 

You slowly made your way over to him and he sat up in the process, upper body straightening. You sat upon his lap, grabbing his cock and positioning it near your entrance. He grabbed onto your hips and rubbed them, helping you down onto his shaft. He breathed out a groaned, your walls tightening against him. You shut your eyes tightly and parted your lips, soft moans leaving your mouth when he fully made his way into you. You opened your eyes and stared back at his orbs, leaned down to kiss him. Lips locked into a battle, you lifted yourself up before roughly slamming back down, removing yourself from his lips and letting out a loud moan. You continued with a slow pace, keeping contact with Zhongli as he tried to mask his groans. 

He’d always been a patient man, yet the pace was too teasingly slow. 

Could he resist the temptation to speed it up?

Of course not. 

It seemed only like seconds had passed and yet he had you pinned to the wall. You gasped in surprise, hands quickly meeting his neck and legs wrapping around his waist. The repressed dominance he had tried his best holding back had come out full force as he roughly held onto your hips and rammed into your wet core. You didn’t suppress any moans, sounds meshing into the air like a song. He moved his head to meet your neck, hot breath hovering over your neck. He kissed your neck and sucked the skin, biting it to leave a mark. Your arms held on tight to his neck, holding him for dear life. He pulled back, looking you in your eyes. He was panting, his legs were shaking, he was close. You met foreheads, his pace going faster and faster to the brink of pleasure. Bringing your lips together for a final kiss, your walls tightened against his cock, signaling your orgasm. You moaned loudly into the kiss, head reeling back and eyes shutting tightly. He soon finished with you, ramming himself as far as he could into your core, leaving him flustered and panting. 

Your bodies meshed together, the sweat glistening off and the warmth of your bodies radiating off each other. You were tired and he knew it, slowly making his way to the sofa where he laid your body comfortably. About to leave, you quickly grabbed his hand to stop him, looking up at him with half lidded eyes. 

“Stay with me.”

The rain accompanied the sounds of comfortable silence. His eyes followed your form and he chuckled to himself. He knew. 

This was a demand he could not ignore.

“Drip… drop… drip…”

♕ violetgardens. 

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #zhongli genshin impact #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #not sfw #violetgardens

[hellodeedles]

Weather

I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together ‘Cause even when the sky is grey, I’m feeling blue And though the winds are always changing And the clouds are rearranging A part of me will always be in love with you 

Aelin looks outside the window of her apartment and frowns at the grey sky and slight rain she sees. It wasn’t supposed to rain today and now that it is she feels slightly upset. Half of the point of her moving here was because it barely is supposed to rain. Without thinking about it she reaches for her phone and opens the weather app clicking over to the city she knows he’s in. She closes the app before it can load realizing what she is doing. Sighing she closes her laptop. She won’t be able to get any work done now. She never can when it rains just like this. Not when all she can think about is how much she loved it when he held her on days like this. How much she still loves the thought of it. 

There’s a fire in LA Since you moved there back in May I wonder, should I call to see if you’re alright? Yeah, you’re a million miles away  But I still think of you each day  And hope the weather doesn’t keep you cold tonight 

The sound of the news on the TV breaks Rowans concentration away from his cooking. The announcers are going on about the rain that has finally returned back to Antica ending the long, hot, dry spell they’ve had over the last few weeks. He tries to tune them out, instantly thinking about how much she hated all that dry heat when they visited the Southern Continent that one time years ago. 

A car door closes, and he glances out the window. He curses himself when the first thing that he notices is that the afternoon sun is shining the way it does when there is going to be a beautiful sunset, and not the woman making her way towards the front door. He curses himself because he knows that she would have dragged him out to the airport to lay on the hood of her Jeep and watch the sun set until the stars came out in full. He curses himself because she is still the first person he thinks about, and not the mother of his future child. 

So, I won’t talk about the weather No, I won’t talk about the weather

I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together ‘Cause even when the sky is grey, I’m feeling blue And though the winds are always changing And the clouds are rearranging A part of me will always be in love with you 

Aelin is walking through the main market of Antica thinking about how the heat of the middle of the day is the worst thing she has ever known. Almost. A cool breeze hinted with the scent of pine and snow wraps arounds her startling her out of her grumpy heat exhausted state. She looks over to see a merchant selling candles and notices a fan by a batch of what must be the pine scented ones. 

The thoughts that flood her are almost too much to bear. How many times had practically that exact same scent wrap around her with his arm when he’d pick her up, throwing her over his shoulder to drag her who knows where? How many times had she gone to sleep wrapped up in one of his hoodies or t-shirts refusing to be parted with it just for a little while longer? How many times did she count over the last months how less and less it seemed to envelop her and started to wrap around Lyria instead? 

Aelin stopped dead in her tracks. When was the last time his scent was anywhere near her? 

So, I won’t talk about the weather No, I won’t talk about the weather 

I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together And it’s hard to say if we will ever be But I’ll admit my greatest fear is that the air will never clear So I just wish we could talk like you and me

Rowan can’t help himself the thoughts of her are everywhere now. Picking up his phone he skips the song that has just come on. He sighs, his thoughts of her are mainly in the music he listens to, thinking about all the times she danced in his kitchen while he cooked for them. How she danced like no one was watching. Danced like she had all the time and freedom in the world to be nothing but young and carefree and joyful. 

His thinks now on how he felt watching her dance, how his heart raced when she would turn and look at him as if he was the center of that world she created. He thinks about when she used to grab his hand and pull him closer to her, pulling him into that wondrous world only she could bring to life. He thinks about how he would only yield for her and no one else. 

But most of all he thinks about how sad it is that it is now so awkward between them that he fears that he may never get the chance to be in that world again. Rowan looks at his phone, biting his lip he picks it up and clicks on her name praying that this time it might be different. 

No, I won’t talk about the weather Not with you, we’re not together But I wonder if we’re ever really through ‘Cause if we’re talking about weather You and I shouldn’t be together Oh, I know I’ll always be in love with you

Aelins phone lights up with a call. She peaks over her book to see who it is and her heart stops. It’s been weeks since they last spoke and even then it was horribly awkward between the two of them. The only thing either of them really able to discuss was the weather. She stares at her phone a moment longer wondering if she should just let it go to voicemail but at the last second she grabs it and answers. 

“Hello?” She asks, cursing herself the way she sounds a little breathless. 

“Ace?” Rowans voice comes through the phone sounding a little unsure of himself. “Ho- How are you?”

“Yeah, good. I’m good,” she cringes at the fact that she sounds so awkward talking to him. “How have you been?”

“Oh you know the dame.” A slight chuckle at himself. “Nothing ever really changes here.” 

Aelin can’t help but to think how wrong he is, everything has changed there much too quickly for her. 

“Thats good. Repetition is always good at helping people become the minldess drones the ruling overlords want us to be.” She tries for some humor, for old times’ sake just to see if they might be able to slip back into the easy pattern they have always known together. 

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah it is. How’s the weather there?”

No, no, no. She blinks back the tears that are now threatening to spill out of her eyes. She composes herself for a moment before saying, “Hot and dry.” She tries another tactic. “It did rain here the other day, reminded me of home.” She couldn’t help it, she needed to know if he would get her underlying message. If he would get it and respond. 

“Thats nice. I know how much we used to love it when it would rain here.” Her heart soars at his acknowledgment of their time together and she thinks for a fraction of a second that maybe everything will be okay maybe they wil-

“Ace I gotta go. Lyria’s just gotten home and I gotta go help her. She can’t carry all of her stuff in by herself now that she’s so far along. Can we talk again soon?”

Aelin doesn’t know how to respond. She is silent for too long “Aelin?” Rowan asks again. 

“Yeah,” she says quickly her mind still blank. “Yeah we can talk soon.”

“Great! She hears the forced joy in his voice. And just when she thinks all hope is lost. “I miss you Aelin.” 

“I miss you too Rowan.” 

The phone call ends and she drops her phone into her lap while staring at the wall, numb from their conversation. So close, she thinks, so close to maybe starting to get back to normal. After this phone call she doesn’t think things will ever get anywhere near the normal they once had. And yet she can’t help but think about those words. “I miss you.” Can’t help but think about how they say them the exact same way they used to say something else. When they used to say I love you. 

Oh yes, I know I’ll always be in love with you

a/n: This is the first Throne of Glass piece that I’ve written and I actually really like how it turned out! The song is the acoustic version Weather by Lawrence and it is absolutely beautiful 

#throne of glass #aelin #rowan whitethorn #best friend #mutual pining #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #throne of glass fanfiction

[teamsarawatshusband]

Word Of Honor - 1st watch insta thoughts - Episode 7

Here's my name overview, in case you're new to this: Zhou Zi Shu = Baby Zi Shu/ Zhou Xu lord guy/alcoholic tanned tragic hero lord guy; Wen Ke Xing = Smirky Xing/Smirky fan guy/Kissy Xing Gu Xiang = Purple Girl/my Purple Love/my Purple Queen Smirklord is my personal ship name for Zhou Zi Shu and Wen Ke Xing.

Also, here are the previous episodes.

Before we get started, just FYI, I went back to have a look at the red masked ghost guys gang scene with nuts guy in episode 1, and it’s finally confirmed that it's 100% Kissy Xing, because, now that i've been hearing his laughter for some eps, I can't not recognize it. Actually, he’s not just part of the ghost gang, he’s their boss. :O

Okay, so that is settled.

Let’s move on to episode 7:

Luo Mansion. What is that? Where is that? Who are these people? There's one with a joker grin, and several with weirdly upturned eyebrows and darkened lips. Are they from the ghost gang?

And why is everything red, is this a wedding?

There's a white haired woman with long golden fingernails and she's referred to as tragicomic ghost.

Oh it IS a wedding. Something tells me this might not be a voluntary one... Maybe it's the amount of gagged people in cages who don't look joyful.

Is the gagged guy who's gonna get married unconscious magenta leader guy from when that other ghost lady dropped her face?

He's getting married to a memorial tablet? What?

Ah, back to more familiar people in familiar circumstances. Baby Zi Shu is drinking alcohol. Now this I recognize.

But he can't get more because somebody bought all the remaining bottles. Should I say that this has Kissy Xing written all over it?

Ooooh, the kid is there!!! With a-hole-uncle Shen and uncle Zhao. And the kid notices Baby Zi Shu right away, and thinks it's his master. He's better at recognizing people than I am, but he's mislead by Baby Zi Shu's lack of tan and scar. That's a shame. But he clearly misses his daaaaads! Awwwww.

Side note: I cannot stress enough how much I need to focus on not misspelling Baby Zi Shu’s name. I’ve typed Zi Shi, Zu Shi, Zu Shu, Zhu Si, Zhi Shu already... and now I almost typed “Baby Sushi”, because my brain is WEIRD. In case it happens in the future and I miss it, you have been warned. Maybe I should just go with Baby Sushi, because that one would be easiest to remember. I should also change my tumblr handle to “face-blind-and-name-stupid”.

Meh, back to the ghost gang wedding ceremony.

Whoever speaks dies. That would have been a good rule to know in advance, I guess.

So what's this list of the unfaithful? Is it like Santa's naughty and nice list?

Everybody who is unfaithful gets killed by white haired gold finger girl. Got it. Everybody who speaks gets killed too. This seems like such a shady set of rules, I bet more people get killed just for fun.

Ooooh, it's celebrity death match. But with friends of the groom.

I feel like this guy who says that the ghost folks never break a promise, while being a jerk, might be telling the truth.

:O WTH? Did a-hole-uncle Shen just seriously call our kid useless??? He just assumes that our kid is a liar??? The audacity!!! I feel so outraged on the entire fandom’s behalf.

Huh, the kid is eavesdropping on all of it. I feel so bad for him to having to hear this, but at the same time, I feel so proud of his spying nature. He's already picked up some of his adopted dads' talents.

Back to the wedding deathmatch. A red wedding indeed. Everybody's dead.

Two guys talking at Youyang sect, alright, whoever that is, I forgot. But, they have nice dragon decor. Ah the younger guy is the leader of Window of Heaven while the older guy with the mustache is the 5 lakes final boss. Top boss, I mean. I might be playing too many computer games, sorry. Anyway, so Youyang is 5 lakes, also confirmed by the pleated skirt soldiers around. K, k.

So, pretty heaven's window leader guy wants to get the scoop on the glazed armor situation.

Whoa, did mustache final boss guy just really say glazed armor is just a rumor? Does he think people are stupid? Even I know that it's not. Tsk. He makes Window of Heaven sound like a super power spy agency.

Everybody is after our poor kid. Ooooooooh, Baby Sushi is following the uncles plus kid through the bamboo woods. Nice. He won't let the kid get harmed, I'm sure.

There's a girl kid who looks kind of like TopTap (if you're familiar with Thai TV shows).

She seems nice, but... looks like they're just trying to get our kid out of the way to discuss stuff. Pfff, they always complain about him not knowing stuff, but how is he supposed to when he's constantly left out?

"The martial arts world won't be peaceful anymore" LOL, whut? It hasn't been peaceful from the start of the series. What is 5 lakes final boss guy even trying to say?

:O what? Baby Sushi wants to genuinely leave the kid there and thinks he's safe there?

Oh, he's onto the spy situation and Window of Heaven being involved. Cool, cool.

Aaaaand spontaneously kills a spy guy, k.

Wheeeeeeee Kissy Xing is back. Has also been following around. Nice nice.

Ah, the dead guy was from the scorpion gang. And both Baby Sushi and Kissy Xing know. Oh, so Window of Heaven is an assassin organization. Alright, the more you know. Okay!

He's so daring, talking about how everybody is after the glazed armor while wearing a piece of it openly over his clothes. And he keeps hinting at how much he knows about Baby Sushi but never outright says it.

It's always the same with those two. Kissy Xing points out how good a person he is and then flirts with Baby Sushi who then gives him the cold shoulder.

LOL, I love how the subtitles really translate EVERYTHING. A random note of Tofu Pudding, not plot relevant at all, but BAM in your FACE!

(joking aside: I am so grateful for all the subs and translations. Whoever is doing this stuff, you guys will always be my heroes. <3 )

Oh, somebody looked at them, and Baby Sushi recognized him? And Kissy Xing is like a marching band, stomping onto the scene, parading around with banners that say "Look at this glazed armor!" lol.

Ooooooh, Kissy Xing is in cahoots with the merchant lady. He's planned something. This is exciting. Seems like he's trying to set all parties up against each other: 5 lakes, scorpions, window of heaven and whoever else wants to participate.

Okay, so he let that spy guy steal his piece of glass on purpose, right? And it must be one of the fakes, I assume.

Oh, the heroes conference... I remember the name, but what was that again? Was it a 5 lakes thing? Anyway, Baby Sushi and Kissy Xing are gonna be there on uncle Zhao's invitation, alright.

See, when Kissy Xing calls the kid dumb, it kinda doesn't feel offensive to me. I don't know. It just doesn't. It's like somebody affectionately calling their pet dumb or something.

Waaah, there's another beautiful tree. Please don't burn it down this time.

There's some morse code thing going on with lots of people that I don't know. Everybody's drumming on stuff and passing along messages.

:O my Purple Queen. The love of my life. There she is. ahhhhhhhh. <3

She's also drumming on stuff, but I'm not sure it's code with her, might also just be frustration, lol.

There's a bunch of drunk guys and they're requesting the traditional DJ guy to put on some song that probably has explicit content or something, because he doesn't wanna play it.

:O they snatched his daughter from DJ guy! Right under the eyes of my Purple Queen. Ooooh, she's gonna clean up that place, lol.

Yup.

Yeah you show them! Heh.

Oh, she's got herself a fanboy. Who is he?

She still keeps drumming away on the dishes with her chopsticks. Hmm, maybe it is a code after all.

LOL, they're having this awkward conversation about double standards for guys and girls, and my Purple Queen is not having it. She is the best.

Not gonna lie, every time the series cuts back to smirklord, I get all excited.

Ok, Baby Sushi places some... nut or whatever on his chopsticks obviously some code, Kissy Xing watches and looks confused. Oh, and he almost gave away that he doesn't understand the code.

LOL, what is happening? Kissy Xing looks so pissed at my Purple Queen making friends with her fanboy.

Seriously, does he have some sort of beef with fanboy guy? LOL, won't even let the poor guy finish his meal. A+ in cockblocking.

Awwwww, and my Queen still gets it. Pinpointing smirklord in one sentence. Baby Sushi brings out Kissy Xing's humanity. And now he looks sad. It must be true.

Ahaha, "I will pay. A Xu, where is your wallet?" Comedic genius.

Oh, what a clever way to bring the subject to the "thief" guy. Man, Kissy Xing is GOOOOOOD at this. And Baby Sushi is so amused that he admits to knowing thief guy too.

My queen doesn't recognize Baby Sushi. Whaaaaat? I would have expected her to feel the sparks. Oh, wait, no, she does get it. Hehe. And Kissy Xing instantly has to praise his crush's appearance and beauty. Everything's alright again in the world.

LOL, the way she goes right in to touch him. No inhibition. No etiquette. And Baby Sushi is so surprised that he lets her, lol.

Ahaha, Kissy Xing has to stop her from touching his baby. Awww

XD, I can't deal with this. He even flat out asks why he's not allowed to touch.

And Baby Sushi replies with a compliment to my Queen and a rebuff for Kissy Xing. It's funny, but I do feel a little bad for Kissy Xing. He did not deserve that.

LOL, waiter guy wins quote of the day, "Can you all pay first? Then you can touch whomever you want, however you want." This episode is gold, man. Also, I'm all for the touching. Yes, touch each other. Go go.

Heh, nice. Baby Sushi threatens that the money is a loan and he'll expect interest. And Kissy Xing does not seem sad about owing him at all but goes and buys even more food. After all, owing Baby Sushi gives him reason to stay in touch, doesn't it?

Aww, why do they always end on smirklord scenes? I want more. :(

Okay, this was a really nice episode. I can't wait to continue.

What I learned: The ghost gang enjoys torturing people. Kissy Xing is definitely nuts guy (well not learned from this episode, but I still learned it). I need the kid to return to his dads because I miss their interaction, as does he. There's a famous  thief wandering around and he stole Kissy Xing's fake Glazed Armor. The Heroes Conference is coming up.

Goals for future epsidoes: still to figure out how Kissy Xing and Baby Sushi know each other, understand the purpose and connections of the ghost gang and why Kissy Xing is part of them. Also, just generally, get to watch more smirklord interactions. ;)

#word of honor #1st watch insta thoughts #word of honor ep 07 #smirklord

[be-dazzled]

The Art of Falling

Chapter III CONSISTENCY IS KEY

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser, Gajeel Redfox Alternative Historical Universe Genre: Old World Vibes, Period Romance All Chapters: Click here | Taglist

Writer’s Corner: OKAY so I hid an Easter egg in there. Hint: Anime only, related to Juvia. Can you guys guess? Ahahaha. And, oh, I should put the writer’s corner after the story but oh well, let me know what you think of the couple I added in here. Also, I really hope Gray’s cousin is a character you will all like. I love her! Also, dayum period romance really don’t use everyday conversation english, do they? Show me some love. :*

Masterlist

The morning began with the entire Fullbuster household personally attending to the arrival of Lord Silver Fullbuster's beloved niece and her respectable husband. Gray abandoned his wish to come and pay the Locksers a visit to welcome his cousin, Ultear Vastia née Milkovich. She was travelling with her family: her husband Lyon and their daughter Ur, named after her deceased mother. The Vastia couple frequented the Fullbuster Manor, in the fall, when Mr. Vastia's business affairs lulled; they spend a week or so at the mansion, to keep Lady Mika some company. This fall, they arrived with a welcomed addition to their growing family, a six-month old little Ur whom the Lord and the Lady has taken quite the fondness of.

Lunch was spent exchanging stories of the great adventure that was raising little Ur, who the Lord and the Lady came to know, liked to slumber in the day and refused to allow her parents any sleep in the night. So, as soon as the little one awakened, Lord and Lady Fullbuster has taken it upon themselves to entertain the little eyes and insisted on keeping Ur company, while suggesting heavily to their son that it was a good time as any to practice. The young couple stayed behind at the drawing room, kept entertained by Grayden Fullbuster as he played a classical tune on the pianoforte.

Lyon joined his wife on the sofa and brought with him a bottle of fine wine from Lord Silver's cellar. He poured a generous serving in his wife's glass, knowing fully how Ultear missed her night caps.

"Would it be safe to do that?" Gray inquired without taking his eyes off the piano keys. As far as he was aware, drinking alcohol was discouraged upon mothers who breastfed.

"My doctor assured me one, occasional drink would not hurt." reasoned Ultear. "But enough about me. Why shan't we talk about you?" Yet the lady felt obliged to put her glass down after a long sip, then, returned to her husband's warm embrace. "I heard you are frequenting a certain household."

"And whom have you heard this information from?" As part of his noble upbringing, Gray had learned to play the piano as early as he could command his fingers. On the night's occasion, he chose "Air", a classic he had played far too many times, that his fingers knew where to land before he even thought of it.

"A man with a stature and fortune as yours? News travel fast, my dear cousin."

Gray allowed his company a small smile but paid them no more attention as the young pianist fell deeply into his song; only his mellow but pronounced melody filled the silence that befell the room, much to Mrs. Vastia's chagrin.

"Have you set your heart on a Lockser?"

"There are talks about the eldest Lockser's beauty. How it is comparable to that of Helen." Lyon chose that moment to put in a word into the conversation, associating with Miss Lockser the woman of Troy, whose beauty had launched a thousand ships. With Ultear's sharp eyes narrowed at him, Lyon quickly corrected himself before he invoked the ire of his wife. "But only because you, my beautiful wife, had already conceded to marriage."

Lyon bade his time, put on a forged smile turned troubled by the second, until his wife released his beseeching stare and Mr. Vastia could finally breathe relief. She placed a hand on his cheek and lovingly patted a hand on hit.

"I trained you well."

Gray dexterously quickened the tempo of his tune. Oblivious to the unabashed display of affection between the married man and woman, he closed his eyes, pictured the black and white keys clearly in his mind and swayed to the rhythm of his personal version of Air on G String.

"Gray, are you choosing to ignore me?"

"I know better not to."

"Very well. Now, do I have to wrestle the information out of you?"

A single note stretched on before Gray abruptly ended his tune and abandoned his playing. He sighed in defeat and accepted the fact that he was not going to finish the song. What great disrespect to the legendary J.S. Bach. He turned on his seat and addressed the couple holding each other closely on the daybed; the light from the fireplace danced on their feature. Although Lyon and Ultear were married for a year and had conceived a child of their own, Gray was still of the opinion that such display of affection should be shared only in the privacy of their home.

"I admit to the fact that I am seeking a maiden's hand in marriage."

Gray had said it in a tone so solemn that the couple wanted to laugh at its absurdity. In the end, however, seeing no humor in Gray's expression, the answer piqued the couple's interest, Ultear's more than her husband's, that she broke contact from him to devote her attention to her dearest cousin.

"And that maiden's name is?"

"Ms. Juvia Lockser."

The couple exchanged a bewildered look. Gray, however, had no single inkling on what possibly caused his visitors to respond in such a way. He had not any idea that in their little circle, as much as in every household in that town, there was only one Lockser daughter worth mentioning and it was not the name he had given them. But from the hundreds of questions running about in their heads, there was only one Ultear found worth inquiring.

"Is it true then that she left you beaten out in the cold?"

---

"I am flattered that my poor situation could offer you some amusement."

If Lyon Vastia was not a friend from the University and the husband of his beloved cousin, Gray ought to boot him out of Magnolia and back to where he came from. Gray was not one to abuse his power and influence but with how the married man had laughed at him from the Manor all the way to the Lockser House, there was no nerve left of him undisturbed.

"My apologies." The gentleman did not even pretend to try and stifle the chuckles erupting from him. "But this is the best news I've received since the birth of my child." Lyon fixed his coat around him, trying and failing to gather himself as they waited outside the Locksers' door. For he knew Gray was not one inclined to violence; yet, his was a story to be told for generations to come – of how the gentleman was knocked out cold by his future wife.

"Kindly keep your amusement to yourself. Do not embarrass me."

Gray knocked on the door once again, careful not to startle the inhabitants of the house but visibly irate at the older lad stood behind him. From the moment Juvia presented to him the challenge, as soon as the sun risen, Gray stood outside those retiring double doors, waiting for the invitation in. He had those doors slammed in his face twice, all by the hostile second daughter, before he could even pronounce his morning greeting. His father, however, had always reminded him that a man who was trying to win a maiden's heart must endure. Hence, at the moment, he awaited on the stoop, despite being deemed unwelcomed, until a more agreeable Lockser opens the door and invites them in.

Third time was the charm.

Alike the mornings of his every visit, the day began with a slam of the door followed by the reopening of it and a rather exuberant greeting by Mrs. Lockser, a creature much more affable than her second daughter, and her apologizing for said daughter's rudeness.

"I don't know who she takes after." She claimed. "I raised my children well."

By this time, however, Gray had taken it to be the regular course of his courtship.

Gray presented his companion, introducing Lyon as his cousin in law. The latter, same as with Gray, was a man of pedigree. Hence, the first few minutes of the social call were spent with pleasantries. As his cousin, Ultear had suggested, Gray came bearing gifts – the finest ribbons and richest tobacco.

Ultear had given him a good lecture on engagement. The first rule of which was to win the favor of the family, a stratagem her husband sworn by. In Gray's recollection, Lyon had only paid him attention to gain an introduction with Ultear Milkovich, who was then deemed the most beautiful and desirable maiden of all Fiore. Without Gray's aide, Lyon could not have married the lady of his dreams. The young tradesman then decided it was high time he returned the favor. With his wife's blessing, Lyon offered his finest commodities to serve as Gray's presents.

"The moment I heard my dear cousin, Gray, is vying for a woman's affection, my wife and I had decided to bring these all the way from my hometown."

With a merchant's smile plastered on his face, Lyon managed to win more favor, as if the fortune Gray was to inherit was not enough for Mrs. Lockser to worship the young lad.

"You shan't have burdened yourselves, my good gentlemen." said Mr. Lockser, but his wife's face lightened up as she inspected the gifts with astonished eyes.

"Look, my dear! These are hard to come by." Mrs. Lockser presented the case of expensive tobacco to her husband. "Oh and with these beautiful ribbons, my daughters will be envied by this town!" exclaimed she, prancing around her rather crowded parlour. Her happiness had afforded Gray a breath of relief, putting the young suitor at ease until Mrs. Lockser called out to Juvia from the staircase. "Juvia come down and see this!"

There was no response so Mrs. Lockser marched upstairs to take along the daughter herself.

Then came Eliana to step into her mother's absence and expressed her own gratitude towards Mr. Fullbuster. She had a smile that warmed up the room and it aided in Gray's growing self-consciousness. It was the moment that Juvia arrived at – Gray and Eliana sharing in comfortable silence. She then realized how understated the talks were around town, that Grayden Fullbuster and Eliana Lockser made a perfect couple. They were a match made in heaven, she could tell. Eliana's ethereal beauty could make up for what her family lacked in affluence and connections. Her grace and ladylike demeanor very much suited the position of a noble's wife. Gray had no business wooing the wrong sister and if he was to change his choice, she could not blame him, for Juvia was nothing but rude to the young master.

"What are you still doing standing there and having to make your guests wait?"

Juvia tore her contemplating gaze away from the couple she, and the rest of the community, had decided in their minds. Her mother walked past her, oblivious of the resolve Juvia had arrived at.

"What a rude child." Mrs. Lockser complained to herself, then, as if taking off some kind of invisible mask, changed her deportment into a rather overly familiar hostess.

It was then that Juvia caught Gray's eyes, staring up at her without breaking, as the young lady descended the stairs. He only averted his gaze when an unfamiliar lad, dressed in garb as fancy as that of Mr. Fullbuster's, tapped his shoulders and passed him the most beautiful flowers Juvia had ever seen. Her brows furrowed in confusion as Gray walked past her beautiful sister, who deserved the offering of beauty that could rival Miss Lockser's, and stepped forward to meet Juvia at the foot of the staircase. Her eyes had wandered, however, not to meet Gray's dark ones, but at the white Magnolias held in his hands being presented to her. Without meaning to do it, Juvia's own hands saved him the trouble and gathered the bouquet in their safety.

"You should not have." She said in a tone that was neither happy nor content, without removing her eyes from the lovely whites. "Flowers die when removed from their stems." Those words, however, left her lips with indignation. She raised her eyes from the poor flowers and directed them at the confused gentleman from whom they came from, repeating, "Flowers die when removed from their stems."

Gray was left wondering if what was deemed a polite gesture had offended the young lady whose affection he sought. This should not have surprised him; however, since in the beginning he knew, Juvia Lockser was different from the rest of the ladies of Magnolia. Instead of being meekly but happily receiving such beautiful products of nature, like any lady would, Juvia had given him the deadliest stare he had ever had to confront in his life.

"My apologies."

"Non-sense!" Mrs. Lockser interrupted, dispersing the unfriendly air around the two. "You shouldn't apologize for bringing such wonderful flowers, Mr. Fullbuster." She snatched the fresh bouquet in Juvia's hands and casted a reprimanding glance towards the recipient. "And my daughter should be more grateful." She let a moment of silence stretch on, excused herself to the kitchen and instructed her family to help the guests be more comfortable whilst she prepare some refreshments.

With Mrs. Lockser away, the role of host fell onto the lap of Mr. Julian Lockser.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Fullbuster. Mr. Vastia, is it?"

"Yes, sir." answered Lyon politely. He sat next to his friend and cousin-in-law, who obeyed Mr. Lockser diligently.

Foresight had encouraged the second Lockser daughter to excuse herself, for if she wanted to go on about her day, she must now leave before her father started a conversation. His talks often lasted more than necessary.

"Father, if you may please allow me," Juvia had already stood up from her station and motioned to the front door. "I would like to be excused."

Juvia had always been the odd one in the family. She always felt out of place standing next to her sisters but she loved them all the same. She was often the center of her mother's attention and reproach, when her focus was momentarily stolen away from the loveliest daughter, for deviating from social norms and expectations of a lady. Juvia was the kind that would rather come with her father and help in the fields or wander around the woods, something a woman of her age would never be caught dead doing. In all this, she found an ally in his father who would indulge Juvia in her antics, only if it shall drive her mother to the edge of sanity, which both Juvia and her father enjoyed immensely.

However, Mr. Lockser knew there was time for propriety. Furthermore, he was very much aware of the graveness of this visit. His fortune was not well enough to support more than one family.

"Let's entertain our guests, my darling. They have travelled far and early to see our humble abode."

Juvia glanced at the culprit of the visit indignantly. Her frown had placed the blame of disrupting her morning on none other than her self-proclaimed suitor, who met her frown with confusion. Because it was Mr. Lockser who asked, Juvia had no other choice but to return to her place on the sofa and be obligated to listen in boring dialogues or otherwise.

"And what is it that you do, Mr. Vastia?"

Mr. Lockser displayed great interest in Mr. Vastia's business and spent the rest of the morning discussing it, which Juvia had easily foreseen. There was no stopping her father once his interest was roused. Juvia had no other choice but to suffer through it in excruciating silence. Alas, when the conversation rounded into a retelling of Mr. Vastia's adventures in the sea, Juvia's sleepiness had ebbed away. Her ears perked as she listened with much gusto, pitching her own inquiries here and there. For only tales of danger and adventure could hold Juvia's full attention and appease her thirst for them.

"My apologies, good sir, but I have been speaking of myself since this morning. You might see me as a vain man." He meekly coughed a short laugh in an attempt to be perceived modest. "I may have forgotten the reason my cousin and I had come today." He glanced at the reason for their visit, whose amusement had dulled at the interruption. "If Ms. Juvia would allow this gentleman a private audience." Lyon tapped a hand on Gray's shoulder, surprising him momentarily, yet passing the message as clear as day.

"Y-yes," started Gray, "if you may allow sir, I would like to request a private dialogue with your daughter."

"Pardon my interjection, good sirs." It was Juvia who answered on her own behalf, not wanting to be left out of the conversation of which she was the subject of. "If Mr. Fullbuster desired so, should he not have asked for it a moment ago?"

In truth, Juvia did not like the sudden turn of the conversation. She much preferred sitting through every storm the brave tradesman had to grapple with, to return to shore and be reunited with his family, rather than be left alone with the insufferably silent, dull and reserved Mr. Fullbuster.

"He was taken aback by your presence, Miss Juvia. Kindly forgive my cousin."

Such manner of speaking was quite familiar with Juvia; although she had never been the subject of such lighthearted teasing, as no one ever dared speak to a shrew. Even so, without much experience, Juvia could hold her own conversation.

"Could Mr. Fullbuster not speak for himself that you must do it on his behalf?"

Juvia had hidden her intention to affront both gentlemen in a rather sweet but arch smile, something Lyon never expected from this contemptuous lady. The young women of Magnolia were raised to behave with reserved manner and endearing meekness. So it came as a surprise that a young woman such as Juvia had no trouble challenging him. Lyon was dumbfounded that he forgot how to speak for a moment, for there was only a number of people who had such effect on him, and failed to rise to her challenge.

There were many words to describe Mrs. Lockser and heaven-sent was positively not one of them. In that moment, however, when she walked back into the parlour with her pleasant smelling tea and sunny disposition, Lyon conceded to calling her that, a heaven sent, for she had saved him from the blindsided discomfiture.

---

Daylight had gone without Juvia ever having to get out of the house and see it. Her father and mother, but mostly the latter, held the young people hostage in the house. She wished the good gentlemen would take the intimation and excused themselves. The lack of sunlight made the young lady out of sorts and she would not have wanted to be the one to ask them to leave. If Mr. Vastia had not remembered the family waiting for him, the two lads would have joined the Locksers for dinner and Juvia would have lost her manners.

Fatigue had caught up with her when she retired for the night, which Juvia found odd as she had not any activities throughout the day. So, how come her body felt too weary and her muscles too cramp? She walked in to her sisters tucking themselves into their own beds and came to the conclusion that it was too late to search for answers. The second child headed to her own bed stationed between her sisters' and chanced upon the white Magnolias arranged beautifully in a budvase next to it. Much like how she reacted to first meeting them earlier, her hands reached out to them on their own.

"Beautiful, are they not?"

Eliana's voice surprised Juvia that her hand hanged in the air for a moment before she quickly withdrew it back to her side. The eldest crossed to her bed and settled on it as her fingers gently felt the delicate white petals of Juvia's bouquet; her appreciating eyes never left the beautiful display.

"Have you any idea what Magnolias symbolize? Nobility and dignity. Mother says they've been around for thousands of years." Eliana's soft eyes studied the beauty right before her, tossing her head at every angle, lost in the appreciation of the white Magnolias. "They best represent Mr. Fullbuster, do you agree?" She asked in a tone, however, that required no response and so, Juvia did not answer. Instead, the latter examined the sister before her.

Eliana had the gift of seeing only the best in people, of finding beauty in each thing. Juvia could say her sister was too innocent, too naïve but it was one thing she envied of her. Not her beauty, not her flawlessness, but her ability to only see the good.

"You may take them if you wish."

"Non-sense!" Eliana only withdrew her eyes away from the flowers to look at her sister with outrage. "These were offered to you. I was only admiring them." She stood from the bed and motioned towards her own, saying her goodnights to her younger sisters without ever glancing at them. Wendy was fast asleep in her own bunk while Juvia, once again, failed to answer. It seemed that her older sister was not expecting one as Eliana slipped under the covers and faced the opposite wall, away from her kin.

"You admire an illusion, my dear sister." Juvia then turned her eyes towards the white Magnolias, this time, without need but with restrained want of touching them. "For you see, flowers wither as quickly as the sand filters through one's hand."

Juvia never placed high hopes on whatever thing, because sooner than later, the Magnolias would wither and there would be nothing left of it but some proof of its once beautiful existence. Everything must come to an end and such was the fact of life. So, she fell asleep then wondering if how long Gray's misplaced affection would last for such a disagreeable woman as her.

---

"Trust me when I say this, my love," The first thing Lyon did once they arrived back at the mansion was to seek the comfort of his wife. He slipped onto her lap, rested his head on them and waited until Ultear finished the page she was reading and closed her book, "I have never felt so unwanted in my life."

"Don't be overdramatic," interjected Gray, "we made progress."

"Progress?" He turned to the gentleman who spoke while his wife combed her fingers through his silver hair. "The woman was hostile through and through!"

"Yes, because today she had finally talked to me."

"Ah, yes. To tell you in no limited terms how evil you were to pluck the flowers off their stems and offer the same to her."

"Small progress is still progress. Kindly, do not misunderstand Miss Juvia. She only expressed her worry of the flowers' well-being rather than their aesthetic purposes."

Lyon's brows met in the middle to his response and his eyes narrowed in observation. On the outset it appeared that Gray and Juvia was the last people to think when the words 'match made in heaven' came to mind. They were just too different, too opposite from one another, like mismatched pieces of a hundred-piece puzzle. To Lyon's surprise, however, Gray seemed to have a rather deep understanding of the young woman.

"Isn't the eldest a bit more pleasant and agreeable?"

"Perhaps." He answered with a tone that was both uninterested and dismissing, as Gray had found his journal and began writing on it.

"Then what are we doing pining after one who could care less about your existence?"

"I admit that Ms. Juvia Lockser isn't making this at all easy. But may I remind you that nothing of value often is."

There was a sudden silence cut only by Ultear's remarks.

"I could not believe my ears for a moment." A short chuckle tumbled out of Ultear's lips, clearly finding the exchange more amusing than her book or her husband's soft locks.

"I cannot understand where her loathing of you is coming from. Whatever have you done to earn her deep-rooted ire?"

Gray pondered for a moment, putting his pen down and debating whether to tell the couple his truth. As he wanted Juvia not to be unreasonably misunderstood, he opted to recount the night he and Juvia first met. His goal was realized and doubts of Juvia's upbringing were dispelled. He did not anticipate, however, that his beloved cousin and her husband would quickly jump on the young lady's side and abandoned his.

"If you have done the same to me, I would have castrated you right there and then," exclaimed Ultear, who was now seeing her cousin more of an evil than the angel she thought of him to be. "However, as she holds you no accountable, why do you afford this lady much consequence?"

"Why indeed."

Gray had not the answer himself but to find such reason, or any of it, was the cause of this journey.

"Well, I shall not keep you." He addressed the couple without satisfying their curiosity. "I must retire for the night. Tomorrow is a new day." said he, and kept his journal close to him as he went away.

Gray left his behavior to scrutiny of the couple in the room; both pairs of curious eyes followed his retreating back until he disappeared behind the archway.

"I pity our boy, my love. The young lady could not spare him even a bit of interest."

"Do you feel she cannot accept him?"

"Her hostility is something I have never seen even from our business competitors."

There was a stretch of silence, filled only by the mellow crackles from the fireplace. Lyon played with his wife's fingers intertwined with his and let the woman be alone with her thoughts. If Juvia Lockser genuinely harbored no interest towards her beloved cousin, then her aunt's misgivings were not too unfounded. Ultear ought to convince him to end his pertinacity and save his beloved cousin from the awful pain of rejection.

"We must retreat to our chambers then, my love. I will have to rise early to accompany our persistent boy."

Lyon slid off his wife's lap and gently pulled her beloved to her feet, after him. He held on to the warmth of their hands clasped together all the way to their assigned room.

"But I have to say, my love." Lyon led his wife through the corridors of the mansion. "Despite her contentiousness, I can find the charm in the young Juvia Lockser."

The confession had piqued the curiosity of his wife, who was coming down to the resolve of joining her aunt's cause and put a stop on the doomed courtship. Her interest was tickled and mind clouded. For what woman would willingly refuse the opportunity to amass a fortune even she would have envied.

"She is like you in some regard."

"And in what regard would that be?"

Juvia Lockser must have been foolish, very much unlike Ultear. She could not refuse if one day she was to inherit the Fullbuster manor.

"You both would give any gentleman a run for their fortune."

Her husband's smile was equally warm and teasing. For Ultear knew quite well and she could vividly remember, how much suffering she put her now husband through in their own engagement. So that night she deferred her plans on allying with her beloved aunt, no matter how unseemly that was. She wanted to meet the lady and form her own opinion of her. If what her husband said was any true, then Gray's courtship may not be as hopeless as she thought, after all.

tags: @greenapplegrass @shampooneko @trizfn @anaken101 @gruviaftw11 @juviasblog @heademptyonlygruvia @unvalley @jetblackrevival @lannyathewitch @groovyah​ @jujumanga​

#gray x juvia #gruvia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #be-dazzled #gruvia period au #gruvia fanfiction #period gruvia #jane austen gruvia

[lemonietrinket]

Broken Crown ||| Prince!San x Reader

Summary: San receives a present from the leader of his kingdom’s governing body that turns his life upside down, and not for the better. His only comfort in life has been you, and now that comfort is being taken away from him. Genre: angst, bits of fluff with a happy ending  Warning(s): big sad, description of an item of clothing thrown out of frustration (not at or in front of anyone, there is no one nearby at the time); foul language (2x f**k) Word Count: 3037 Song(s): Ambience AN: well im here hurting myself with this... hope its not too angsty anon (i cant find your ask tho idk where its gone) happy (slightly late) birthday to my boi san! :))

fem!reader royalty au

~~~

Rocks sank to the bottom of his stomach as San’s entire body flushed ice cold, and then fire hot. Eyes unblinking he peered round at the sea of smiles, their sincerity leaving him reeling. It was as if his head had been submerged in a pool of twilight sea water, the sun’s warmth leaving it lukewarm and dark, forcing his eyes to sting and glaze without even his full knowledge.

It wasn’t until he spotted the widened eyes of his cousin, far down at the other end of the table, that he realised something was wrong. 

“Oh I can’t wait to see the two of them down the aisle!” 

“She’s a real catch, Sannie! You’re so lucky!”

“Aww, look, he’s so overcome with emotion he’s—!”

“Oh my baby is growing up so fast!”

The world span and words merged into one inconceivable mass as San turned. A thick silence permeated his mind, flooding it with nothing but heaviness; the sound of his fleeing footsteps, the echo of confusion behind him, even his own heartbeat—all swallowed up.  The only thing that pierced it was a high tone clatter, accented by a delicate crack and the shattering of glass. 

Tripping up the stairs, his ankle twinging as he went, he broke through the doors to his room, where he came to an abrupt stop. The doors slammed behind him out of the sheer power he’d shoved them open, and as the adrenaline began to phase his brain back into control, he stood heaving.  While fury flourished through his chest, gentle caresses graced his cheeks, painting them flushed when the two met at his throat. The unstoppable heat met numbing cold, and it was as if his throat became carved of hot stone. He was teetering on the edge of screaming, but having silenced himself, all he felt was the urgent threat of bursting. 

Seeing no way out through his lips, his hands began wrenching off his numerous layers of clothing. The heat was too much to handle, yes, but feeling the silk burn through his fingers, and then watching the embroidered jewels scarper across the room as he flung them was a release in itself. Enough of one to allow the ice to cascade through him. 

A shallow, creaking breath poured from him as he frantically followed where his coat had gone. Chewing on his lips, his hands felt around the fabric, still intact minus a few embellishments that had been torn off in his outburst. 

No no... no no no...!

His gaze darted across the varnished crystalline floor, desperate to catch a glint, a twine of thread. With the quartz patterning blurring and yet somehow shining as if possessed, he had no clue if the words were coming from him out loud or were just in his head. There was no way for him to be sure, as days prior everything that had coalesced in a matter of seconds had been nothing more than a nightmare.

Tears trapped themselves between his eyelashes, leaving the world around him in the state of a dream, until he finally gave in. Wiping his eyes  with the side of his fist, clenched and weakening, he sucked in air carefully. It felt too humid in his lungs and did little to quell the urge to succumb completely, but it was enough to hold it down for just a few more moments. And peaking up between his fallen fringe, that was all he needed.

He threw himself at the doors to the balcony, hands tugging at the handles until they finally broke open, and the outside greeted him.

It was an abrupt change, freezing wind slapping him in the face and grasping at every inch of bare and clothed skin it could get its hands on, but he could breathe.  The shock stunted the tears long enough for him to clear his eyes properly, his murky salmon dress shirt—too loose to actually be comfortable and yet still restrictive at the shoulders firmly placing it as his least favourite piece of clothing he was routinely told to wear—finally serving a purpose he agreed with.

The heels of his palms collided with the stone balcony and sent a small hum of pain through his throat, though he paid no mind to it. His attentions were much more focused elsewhere—that being scouring the gardens below, the canopies of the trees beyond, and finally the lights of the city in the further distance. To his annoyance the damp air, enrolled to be the welcome mat for an oncoming storm, decided to shirk its duties and mess with his hair enough so he couldn’t see. Though what shook him up even more and truly beckoned the suffocating feeling to return was the absence of your silhouette. 

It took all the willpower in him left to resist calling your name into the dark. As time went on however, the more he began to worry that he wouldn’t even be able to anymore, if he could. Becoming frantic, he slapped his hand against the stone and cursed. Once then twice, and then again and again until he slumped over the edge. The stone dug into his rib cage, leaving him even shorter of breath than he already was.  He let his eyes fall closed, a whimper leaving his lips, leading him to press them straight and firm. San needed to stay together in one piece, and with the cold bringing an onslaught of reality checks in his head, the more he realised he needed to not behave any worse. But his tether was running short.

Luckily, the respite arrived in a matter of moments, and though they may have felt like hours, the ache of waiting soon washed away as warmth reached his side upon the balcony, and the scent of the wild world below was brought to him. 

Despite your hands being carved from days of work you always held him so tenderly, as if never wanted to let him go—and for once, not in a precious gem kind of way, but more in the sense of a memory. A story from years before that never failed to bring a smile to your face. One that meant nowhere else felt like home but with him. 

He didn’t really know how you got up onto his balcony, without alerting the guards or making the slightest of noises. Nor did he know truly where you were from. It wasn’t like you hadn’t told him—oh, he’d asked you about your life thousands of times and you’d complied in answering every single time with a content smile on your lips—it was just that he had no context to it. You told him of the streets and the lamp-lights, the cheers of the evening and cries of the night, the merchants and the bakeries and the patrols barely on watch, the docks and the promises it held of the future, a new world. But San had never been, so how could he ever fully understand and know of your past, when he knew very little outside his own upbringing? These were the things he lamented when the moon began to sink and you ushered him to finally rest, pointing out that he was moping again.

Your voice was as gentle then as it was now minus the mischievous tones, pressing hushes into his messy hair at your jaw while you cradled him to your chest. 

“Shh, my love, it’s ok. Everything’s ok.”

Hands clutching at your leather jacket, ribbed with gashes that even you couldn’t place, he let himself relax. In your arms, his sobs spilled out so much quieter than they had done before, and his shaking slowly came to an end when they could have easily continued long into the night.  Sat upon the stone floor with you, his problems seemed to drift away. He almost wished you weren’t as sensible sometimes, and that you’d let them pass. That way he could stay there in silence wit you for longer, just listening to the beat of your heart and how it aligned with his. 

It couldn’t happen however, he had to face the consequences at some point, and when you slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, he knew there was little he could do about it. 

Your motions were met with a disgruntled pout as the boy you fell in love with—now old enough to rule a kingdom without an Aide—wiped his eyes and blinked at you, happy to wordlessly pretend that none of that had happened. 

“Happy birthday, Your Highness,” you teasingly greeted, cupping his hallow cheeks so you could trace shapes into his temple. Your face instantly fell when his did, however, and you realised that you’d struck a nerve. “Sannie, what’s happened? I haven’t seen you this upset in months.”

His gaze dropped as his head did. Your hand didn’t chase him, instead you settled it upon his own, balled between you against the floor. “San?”

“She promised me, Y/N,” he finally began, swallowing thickly, “she promised me and she broke it in a day. It meant nothing to her.”

“Her?” you enquired. “Your mother?”

He shook his head languidly and you could feel his fingers tense between yours. “The Chair. The Chair—she promised my status would be nowhere in any agreement in the trade talks and the—she fucking lied! Next week—with all fucking expenses paid for by the government no less—I... she—a-and she did it on my birthday! Told it to me now, gave it to me as a gift, so now there is absolutely no way I can refuse her! She did this on purpose, Y/N, she knows what she’s doing, she wants me over there for something and I... I don’t want to play her... her games—!”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” you breathed, stroking his white knuckles, “take it easy. What did she do, San? What’s happening next week, where are you going?”

“I’m getting married.”

His abrupt words stunned you into a paralysis. No breath left your lungs, there was no flicker of your fingers. It was like you became a statue. 

“She’s married me off, Y/N. To this princess from Lontaiko no less. I won’t be here after it, I’ll move away, and then I’ll be completely at her mercy.” San glanced up at you, meeting your glazed stare with a sigh ridden with guilt—as if he had any choice in the circumstances. The sight of you without your smile was enough to make his heart sink, and so witnessing the colour drain from your cheeks and your touch go limp forced him to blink back tears once again. 

He pulled your rigid hand to his lips and planted a kiss to your fingers. It brought you back to reality, throat dry and eyes wet, but his touches left your heart aching, his wound now a part of you too. And it tore your heart gradually apart, one thread at a time. 

“Why?” you finally managed, gripping onto his hands almost as desperately as he’d done before. 

He spat a laugh of disbelief. “’Peace’, she said. ‘Peace’.”

You scoffed a weak laugh, hiding your face within the shadows cast from soft candlelight behind. San didn’t let you go, his lips soft at your skin, trying to stay strong and encourage you that it would all be fine but you could feel in the caution of his movements that he didn’t believe it either. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I’m sorry I didn’t put up more of a fight, I don’t want this, I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to be king—”

“I love you,” you finally whispered, words fragile and very nearly swept by the wind. 

His lips fell still. It was far from the first time you had told him, as every time the moonlight shone upon the two of you, the words kissed the night. Now, however, was different. Seeing you so curled in on yourself reminded him of the first time you had confessed to him. 

A few nights had passed without a single flicker of your silhouette, no curl of the blossoms and brine that melded with you. He’d let it slip first, all doe-eyed and lips pursed amongst multitudes of pillows, waiting for his first kiss that you would bestow upon him. You had rushed an apology, brushing your lips against his forehead in a promise before fleeing.  Every time the moon then rose he waited while dread trickled through his veins, until you finally returned. Your voice seemingly stolen and hands wrung together, gemstone eyes avoiding his at every cost while you waited on the wrong side of the balcony. You’d given him such a fright when he finally spotted you through the bronze embroidered windows—the first time because he couldn’t tell it was you, the second because you could have slipped and fell at any moment, perched where you were.

As soon as he joined you outside, he’d rambled about how worried he had been, not even trying to temper his volume. 

You’d interjected him suddenly, “Can I kiss you properly?” 

He’d been silenced immediately. And then between a small scowl, a pout and the puffing of his cheeks, he’d huffed, “Yes.”

You hadn’t relaxed until he’d held you, lips meeting in the golden haze of the torches that danced with the silver of a crescent moon. 

It pained him to see you in such a way now, for all the wrong reasons. Reasons that couldn’t be helped, he reminded himself, his thoughts possessing a snarl and leaving the pit of his stomach broiling, nothing can ever be done... right...?

Shifting his weight, he raised himself so he was even with you, before at last holding you close. Your hands sprung into action to clutch at his back as he did so, your head nestling into his shoulder while your breaths became shallow. Nose pressed into your hair, he kissed your head as you begged him, “Please don’t leave me, San. Please, please don’t leave me.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at his bedroom. The grandiose sweeping canopies of his bed curtains, light peach and without a speck of dirt. The hard floor that was always cold to his bare feet without fail, and too hard to welcome him home after a long day of duties. The emptiness of the room’s vast expanse, adorned with nothing but elegant plants twisted around veiled sticks to force them to grow how the keepers’ wished.  His eyes changed focus then, coming to glare at the dull reflection in the glass. The faded lines of his hands stroking your back, his intense expression, all stared right back at him, as if in challenge.

And something inside him snapped.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Upon the day of the wedding, after a week of flurried throngs of people and preparations being made, just after the clock chimes sang for seven o’clock, a single member of staff sped through the long corridors to the palacekeep at the very end. Minutes later, he marched with her in tow through to the King’s bedroom, where they found the monarch working at his desk, a bright grin upon his face.

At exactly 7:08, as the sun beamed down upon the kingdom of Silarrean—nestled between the rises of two valleys, neighbour to the realm of Lontaiko— the King fainted. 

When the shadows of the sundials met the halfway mark for that same hour, those same persons that dotted the palace halls like bees within a hive, made up the crowds of search parties pushed to scour every inch of the city at the castle’s feet. 

Within days, the Silarrean Prince San, who the Chair had announced to all the people was destined to marry the delightful youngest daughter of the Lontaikan royal family, was officially declared missing. The wedding was called off, though the King ordered no cease in the search. 

It would prove null, however. The young prince was long gone.

Not that San knew of any of what was occurring back in the place where he had once lived. He could imagine it happening though, the images in his mind that hazy vivid that always accompanied him when he let his mind wander upon things he’d never known.

Leaning out to stare into the distance across the ocean waves, the boat proved to have a balcony of its own. This time though he was on the other side of it, and the correct one too: the one that actually involved living how he wished.  He ran his fingers across the crown between his hands, the edges of silver carved into entwined laurels still sharp, and he knew he couldn’t wait for them to become rounded with age. He found he kept returning to the centrepiece, with its intricate feathers tinged with blue and the cracked azure gemstone in its centre. The split was shaped like a lightning bolt, and it brought a smile to his face, thinking of just how much of an impact he made upon the world around him. It symbolised how he would never return, and that they could neither replace him. He had taken very little with him, but the crown was his birthright, and so he would take it with him, but also leave its life behind. 

Stood by the helm, you watched over him carefully. You would have joined him, but someone needed to steer. The small boat was only a relic, you’d been surprised that it even moved at all. The adrenaline, that had left your heart in your mouth when the rudimentary engine had coughed and spluttered on the night of your grand plan, had long since died down. It remained on the edge of your conscience, ready to cascade through your veins when you needed it. And you were well aware that on the route you were taking through life you were definitely going to need it. Until then though, you relished in the salt of the sea and the calm waters that the rising summer brought for you.

It didn’t matter after all, what would come. You’d find a way, as you were together, and you were both free. 

~~~

an: i feel like this would work better as a longer piece, where the process of the week is followed, with more depth of lore and stuff but ill be honest with you, it took a lot of effort for me to write this in the first place. not because the idea wasnt my thing (far from it—this stuff is my shit) but because my creativity just doesnt like cooperating sometimes.  maybe one day.

also what do you think of my new paragraph break thing? i think its cute. much easier to implement than the photo ones for sure.

all names of places are fictional  

Masterlist

#san #san ateez #san x reader #ateez #ateez x reader #san oneshot #ateez oneshot #san x reader oneshot #san imagines #ateez imagines #ateez x reader oneshot #san angst #ateez angst #san x reader angst #ateez x reader angst #san angst imagines #san angst oneshot #ateez oneshot angst #san x reader fluff #ateez x reader fluff

[rohad93]

Sea Glass - Chapter 1 A Bellow diamond Pirate AU

The gentle rocking of the ship made all the glass bottles and knickknacks clack together quietly on their shelves, a constant and soothing background noise over the sound of the sea and the gulls outside her window.

The storm they had been sailing through for the last three days had finally passed over and they could finally pull into port to restock their supplies and go ashore. They had cut it a little too close on their last trip and she was going to correct that this time, she’s already made some allowances in their rations. 

Captain Marigold ‘Yellow Diamond’ stood, leaning over her desk, scouring the contents of the map. She was already plotting their next course, her compass moving slowly and deliberately along a newly marked path across the map. 

If they left the port by mid-morning tomorrow, the wind would be pushing from the perfect direction to take them just where they needed to be.  

A lone independent merchant ship carrying precious metals and silk was set to sail for Caracas in the morning from St. Lucia; they were going to take it. She already had a buyer for all the silk. The metal would be easy enough to sell in the markets of Aruba.   

Rolls of parchment sat on her desk, carefully rolled up and set off on either side of the map, several star charts she had been consulting, and some letter that needed to be mailed off while they were in port. She moved them into envelopes and sealed them with the nearby candle, pressing her signet ring into the soft, red wax.  

Straitening up, she rolled her shoulders and grumbled at the stiffness that had settled in her neck. She moved to the large wooden wardrobe and threw open the doors and pulled off the grubby gray shirt she had been wearing while doing chores around her quarters and pulled out the freshly washed white one, its newly starched sleeves were too puffy for her but the coat would fix that.

Strapping her pistol and saber around her waist, she pulled on the black and gold-trimmed long coat, stuffing the sealed letters into her pockets as she strutted past her desk, boots thumping rhythmically on the floorboards. She whipped the tricorne hat off the hook by the door and situated it carefully over her short flaxen locks as she stepped out onto the deck. 

The bright sun overhead made her squint as she walked across the deck, several deckhands nearby saw her and shouted greetings.

“Pulling into port now, Cap’n” A voice called from the rigging above. She only nodded, watching as the shore grew closer. The golden flag a lightning bolt emblazoned in the middle flapped in the wind. 

She looked carefully over the ships pulled into port and felt her shoulders loosen up when she didn’t spot the one she was looking for.

Small miracles.

“Jasper, take some of the crew and restock all the things on this list.” She handed a rolled-up bit of parchment over to her first mate. “We need to be prepared for the voyage to Caracus.  

“Aye, Cap’n” The large sailor hurried off with the list as some men lowered the gangplank onto the pier. She stopped at the top and turned to face the ship, most of her crew watching her as they worked.

“I want this ship scrubbed from stem to stern by sundown, then to the tavern!” 

“Aye aye Captain.” was the chorus of answers before she turned on heel and strutted down the plank, feet finally touching solid land for the first time in weeks. 

She pulled the pocket watch out of her coat and looked at the hands. She had plenty of time to take care of her errands before the crew scurried off to the tavern to get drunk enough to fall while laying down. 

They needed it after the last trip and their close encounter with that royal frigate.

It had proven much too cumbersome to avoid The Cluster’s cannons though and had sunk to the bottom of the ocean like a rock. 

Yellow couldn’t help but grin to herself as she walked through town at the thought of the look on her face when they had sailed by after sinking the royal pest. 

It honestly filled her with too much giddy delight, especially when she knew there would be consequences, but she just hadn’t been able to pass up the opportunity to show her up a little.

Those troubles would be something to deal with later.

By the time she’d delivered her letters and picked up a few personal parcels, the sun was starting to dip behind all the ships sitting in the harbor, casting their long shadows over the pier and a hazy orange glow over everything else.

She glanced out at the sea and could see another ship in the distance slowly pulling in to port, the setting sun, blocking it out in dark shadows. 

Yellow ignored it as she made her way to the tavern, the raucous sounds of drinking and merry-making could be heard before she had even stepped inside. 

Once she did a loud cheer of ‘Captain!” rose over the din. 

Her crew sat gathered around the place, flagons of piss poor beer and rum in one hand, dice or cards in the other. The locals seemed to be holed up in one corner of the place, keeping to themselves. 

A wise choice.

The crew of The Cluster often frequented this tavern between runs and it was fairly common knowledge that if you stayed out of their way they would leave you be in turn.   

Yellow sauntered up to the bar and sat on a grimy wooden stool that creaked under her weight. Within a minute, a flagon of dark, murky liquid was sat down in front of her by a tavern maid, who quickly made herself scarce. 

She took a long, deep drink of the liquid and it burned every inch of skin it touched all the way down. She let the fire fade before turning around to face her crew, standing from the stool to raise the flagon overhead.

“Drink till you’re blind, men!” she called and the roar that followed drowned out anything else as she sat a bag of gold pieces on the counter, which the barmaid quickly snatched up. 

They had their marching orders. 

An hour into the festivities the tavern doors burst open and while it didn’t go quiet, it did go quiet enough for Yellow to turn away from her drink and curse under her breath the second she did.

The subject of many a nightmare she had suffered was quickly strutting across the tavern straight for her, followed by a motley bunch of bilge rats she called a crew. 

Black leather boots thumped across the wooden floor in a steady rhythm that Yellow was unsure if it was her or her heart, accompanied by the quiet tinkling of metal. 

“I see you washed up on shore just fine,” she smirked up at her new companion. 

Captain Ciel ‘Blue Diamond’ leveled her with a long look, one hand resting on her hip as she looked down at the other pirate from beneath an ocean blue headscarf, tied neatly around a head of long, silver hair, several charms and braids intertwined within the locks.  

Yellow didn’t let her eyes trail past the other captain’s neck. Like usual, Blue was dressed in an off-white blouse that had entirely too many buttons left undone, and were it not for the cobalt colored corset cinched around her middle it would have been left entirely useless as a garment, even tucked into the black trousers she was wearing. 

She let her eyes focus back on Blue’s face, passing the gold and blue gemmed necklace hanging around her neck, the gemstone dipping into her cleavage as she leaned forward.    

Brows the same color as her hair had dipped between a pair of obviously annoyed cerulean eyes at the self-assured smirk on Yellow’s face.

“We didn’t need your help.” She finally said. “My crew is more than capable of taking on some royal navy rats.” 

“It certainly didn’t seem that way…,” Yellow smirked behind her drink, pleased by the annoyance shining in Blue’s eyes. “and we weren’t helping you,” she corrected, setting the drink back down on the table. “I saw an opportunity to take out a future nuisance, so I took it. If you were aided by that... it was an unfortunate coincidence,” she mumbled quietly, not even trying to contain the delight that was no doubt shining in her eyes.

Cerulean eyes narrowed but just as quickly as the look appeared, it vanished, replaced by a sultry smile. 

“Well, even if you didn’t intend to help, I feel like I owe you something…” She said over her shoulder as she turned and walked away; blonde brows furrowed quizically.

She didn’t like any part of that statement, nor the look that went along with it. 

The members of the two crews were intermingled among the tavern, drinking, and trading tales of their recent voyages, but all the while keeping an eye on the two captains. Nothing good ever came of the two of them interacting for too long.

Yellow sat drinking, on edge, now that Blue had disappeared with the unnerving parting words. 

Eventually, the edges of her vision weren’t as clear as they had been before and she felt a little lighter. The cheap rum at work. It was around this time that the band suddenly went quiet and she looked up in time to see Blue, bottle in hand standing on a table. 

“The oh so goodly Captain of The Cluster did The Menagerie a favor ereyesterday and I think it deserves a song, what about you lads?” She called and the tavern answered in a drunken cheer. 

She turned to the band and they quickly began to play a jaunty tune…

“If you need someone to swab your deck there’s only one pirate who can do the trick, call Yellow diamond!” Blue belted out and Yellow jerked, almost dropping her drink.

The crew of The Menagerie stomped and clapped as their captain hopped off the table and began moving through the room.

“When the rum has got you limp, call Yellow diamond!” The Cluster’s crew didn’t know what to do, the more sober ones, anyway. The drunkest unknowingly or unhearing of the lyrics clapped or sang along.

Yellow had a white-knuckle grip on the cup in her hand, watching the other captain twirl around the bar, drinking straight from the bottle between lyrics. She was seething on the inside, listening to Blue and her crew sing and roar with laughter while her crew sat looking at her uncertainly.   

“If the local whore won’t heed your word, call Yellow diamond!” The crowd cheered and suddenly Blue was moving toward her with that damnable little smile on her lips till she was standing at Yellow’s table and leaning forward on her hands, a litany of rings on her fingers that sparkled and shined in the light of the sconces on the walls. 

“The easiest pirate of them all, Yellow diamond!” She sang with a look on her face that spoke volumes. Both crews were watching her with wide eyes. 

Amber eyes flashed with barely contained rage. 

In a flurry of movement Yellow jumped up, knocking over the table and aiming her flintlock pistol straight at Blue. 

All sound in the tavern died in an instant and the little grin on Blue’s face had fallen away, but not to one of fear but shock. 

At the very least it shut her up, but now Yellow was at an impasse. 

Though Blue was soon to fix that.

Her look of shock quickly morphed into one of deadly seriousness.

"Well?" She asked taking a step forward pressing the muzzle of the pistol against her chest. "Are you going to fire or not?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

Yellow said nothing and made no move to pull the trigger.

"Need some help? I'll start…," she said it so lowly that Yellow wasn't even sure she had heard her when suddenly her pistol was knocked aside and her world became a wash of white light and pain, quickly followed by the thundering of furniture being thrown and battle cries all around. 

She opened her eyes just in time to see Blue rear back for another punch but this time was ready and caught the fist as it sailed through the air, jerking the other captain forward on to her raised knee as their crews brawled around them. 

A table flew through the air and splintered into a thousand pieces against the wall raining wood shrapnel down around them, Yellow closed her eyes against the debris just long enough for Blue to lunge forward, tackling her to the ground just as one man was thrown overhead sailing straight into the bar shattering several bottles.

Punches were thrown and teeth fell to the floor among the blood and rum as the two crews duked it out.

Yellow scowled trying to grab the other captain's flailing fists as she straddled her waist. Her hat had flown off somewhere and Blue’s headscarf was askew atop her head, silver hair a wild mess as they rolled across the grimy floor, somehow not getting trampled by their men.

With a thrust of her hips, she managed to throw the smaller woman off her, twisting an arm behind her back that made Blue cry out, a sound that elicited emotions in Yellow that she had not expected, allowing Blue the moment needed to ram the back of her head into the blonde’s face. 

“Shit!” She cursed, hands flying to her nose and eyes watering.

Suddenly she was tackled again, Blue flying into her midsection and sending them both reeling through the tavern door and out into the dirt. 

Yellow managed to kick away from Blue long enough to scramble to her feet just as she did. 

With a low growl, she lunged forward, grabbing both her wrists in an iron grip, and shoved her back against the side of the building. They’d stumbled half into the alley beside the tavern, the roaring of the fighting inside raged on without them. 

Blue winced as her back hit the wall with a low thud. She hissed before looking up at the taller woman looming over her, wrists caught in her iron grip.

They both stood their, muscles taught, red-faced, and panting.

Blue could feel the blonde’s hot breath on her face, those amber eyes flickered in the low, distant light. 

She wouldn’t be able to explain what came over her tomorrow.

She lunged forward, capturing Yellows mouth in a sudden searing kiss that made the blonde’s grip go slack. 

She should have taken the opportunity to punch the blond pirate again, but instead, she just dug her fingers in those golden hairs and pulled Yellow closer to her, deepening the kiss. 

Calloused hands wrapped around her waist and suddenly she was pulled flush against the tall, solid form of her greatest rival and she didn’t think anything of it.

Yellow pulled away but before Blue could even comprehend what was happening that mouth was on her neck, biting at the skin near her pulse and it felt like her legs were going to fold beneath her.

Surely the only thing keeping her upright now was Yellow’s iron grip on her hips. 

She moaned, tugging on the taller captain’s short locks, eliciting a growl from her that shot heat all through Blue’s body. 

“Marigold…” She mumbled with a heavy tongue before the blonde took hostage of her mouth again, which Blue allowed gladly.

“Blue!”  A voice called and a petite woman with short curly hair slid around the corner, stopping to stare at them with wide eyes.

Blue jerked out of the embrace at the sound of her sister’s voice. Turning to look at her with wide eyes. It was fairly dark, she wasn’t sure just how much her sister had or could see.

She turned back to Yellow, who was looking back at her with wide eyes, mouth hanging open in clear shock at what had just transpired.

Making a quick decision she reared back and punched the blonde square in the nose.

Yellow cried out, hands flying to her face as blood began to drip from her nose.

Blue took off down the alley, grabbing her sister’s hand as she passed, pulling her along.

“What the hell was that?” Rose asked as Blue pulled them along back toward the docks to the ship.

“Later,” she huffed, pulling her down the dock. 

She still needed to decide that for herself.

Yellow cursed to herself as she held her hopefully not broken nose as blood dripped down her face and onto her good white shirt. 

That annoyed her more than anything else…, well, not by half, but it was on her list. 

The sounds of fighting inside the tavern seemed to have died down as she stepped inside, and grabbed her hat off the floor before raising her pistol and firing a single shot into the ceiling, bringing all the brawling to an end.

Most of the remaining members of The Menagerie’s crew scampered out of the tavern, climbing out through the windows of the holes they had bashed through the walls when their Captain did not reappear.

“Cap’n!” Jasper was at her side within a moment, a black eye already forming and a split lip dribbling blood down her chin.

“Gather the crew and get back to the ship!” Yellow barked, kicking a drunken deckhand laying near her feet. ‘We set out at daybreak!” With that she turned and stomped back to the ship, face set in a stony glare. 

“You heard the Cap’n!” Jasper’s loud, gravelly voice bellowed.         

Yellow wiped at the blood dripping across her mouth, but even it’s salty tang couldn’t make her forget the way Blue’s lips had tasted.

#bellow diamond #blue diamond #Yellow diamond #Pink diamond #AU #pirate #fic

[andrastes]

if i had to do ur ungodly will u should also have to do 1-69 for polly and aggy

ok here it is for polly. 

1.  why did they choose their class(es)? their subclass(es)?

Well polly sought out Vaermina because she hoped that she would be able to make her nightmares stop. 

2.before they met their party, what was their main goal? make enough money to survive, sleep through the night. 

3. what is their goal right now? save the world lol. she doesn’t actually care about that part as much, she’s mostly in on it because her friends seem to really care. she’s trying to have fun while she’s awake though, which she didn’t really think about much until she met her friends. 

4. if they could learn one spell that isn’t available to them at present, which spell would it be? create or destroy water. she just thinks it would be really useful for the group’s travelling. dredge can get stinky.  

5. do they follow a higher power? what are their thoughts on divinity? lol she’s forced to follow Vaermina. she thinks the gods suck, not because they aren’t real or powerful but because she felt neglected by them when she needed them. 

6. which party member do they relate to the most? sundrop 

7. which party member do they understand the least? liz

8. what are three songs that suit them? still finding songs for her bit… tighten up by the front bottoms, be still by the killers, and wisdom by mother mother. 

9. do they care about their appearance? how much effort do they put into presentation? She does care about how she looks but doesn’t have the energy to really put that much effort into it. That’s why her entire wardrobe is black and dark colors because you don’t have to worry about matching shit. she brushes her hair and braids it when she isn’t sleeping to keep busy, but that’s it.

10. how often do they lie? what situations cause them to be dishonest? she lies mostly when she thinks it’ll be funny or it’ll suit her. she has no real qualms about lying to any random person, but she would think twice on lying to her friends. 

11. what skills are they proficient in? Why? she’s very good at staying awake because she’s too afraid to fall asleep. 

12. have they ever been in love? no

13. what do they dislike about themself? Why? she doesn’t like how cynical she is

14. what is something they love about themself? she knows that she’s always going to get back up.

15. do they trust their party? why or why not? 100% trust. she’s been with them for so long she knows that if they wanted her dead or were going to betray her they would’ve done it. 

16. what are their feelings on the people who raised them? she loves her parents a lot, she just wishes she were the daughter they wanted. 

17. what do they dream about, when their dreams are their own? She’s had very few dreams that are her own in her lifetime. the first one was her sitting in a meadow outside her home in skingrad and feeling the sun on her skin. the second was sitting with her friends outside a cave making fun of dredge by the campfire. 

18. do they see themself as a leader or a follower? leader.

19. what haunts them? what doesn’t? she’s haunted by the life she could have had if she ever got a good night’s sleep. she isn’t haunted by what she has done to make her life more bearable. 

20. which of the five senses do they rely the most on? sight

21. do they follow their head, their heart, or their body? their heart-- she does what she wants to.

22. what is a promise they’ve broken? “i promise i’m not going to do anything rash.”

23. how do they feel about nicknames, titles, or labels that have been given to them? how do they feel about their name? her name is pretentious and very imperial and so she feels like she sticks out in skyrim, but she likes being called polly. 

24. which of the four elements speaks to them the most? Fire. it's a light in the dark and warmth in the cold. an act of creation and destruction, which i think is sort of at war in her mind-- she feels like she is destroying her life while also trying to create something from the ashes. 

25. what stories do they like to tell? what stories do they like to hear? she likes to tell funny stories and likes to hear stories with happy endings. 

26. who do they miss? polly misses her parents, her sister, her niece and nephew. 

27. how do they mourn? angrily, loudly. she is not the best at dealing with emotions.  

28. who would they kill? who would they kill for? she’d kill quite a few people for money, but would kill anyone dredge, liz, sundrop, or her other family needed her to without question. 

29. who would they save? who would they be saved by? she would save her friends and family, she can’t speak for anyone else but she’s done waiting for some deus ex machina. 

30. what do they seek out from others? anything interesting. sometimes just their annoyance will do. 

31. they’re given a blank piece of paper–what do they do with it? she takes the paper, folds it like a paper plane (fantasy plane?), and throws it at someone.  

32. do they seek control, or do they want less of it? she seeks control desperately. 

33. what makes them cry? any emotion in a high enough dose. thinking about loneliness. 

34. which party member do they go to in a crisis? oh god. depends on the crisis. probably mostly sundrop. 

35. which party member do they worry for? dredge, he’s really getting old. 

36. what’s a secret they’ve kept? it’s a secret!!! 

37. what is their favorite thing to hold? a bottle or a glass.  

38. what do they smell like? i think she would smell earthy and deep from all the outside travelling and dark magic. maybe vetiver and something floral, like gardenia. 

39. are their hands calloused, soft, or something else entirely? she has callouses on her fingers from constant tool working. Her palms are soft. 

40. do they enjoy poetry? No, doesn’t much care for it. 

41. what are they attracted to in other people? optimism, perseverance, kindness. 

42. what are three words they would use to describe themself? funny, charismatic, annoying. 

43. why do they fight? she needs to make a living somehow

44. what do they need to learn? To give people a chance first, 

45. how do they hug people? she’s one of those: taps you immediately to let you know we’re done, side-hug, types. 

46. what do they deprive themself of? home, sleep.

47. when they meet someone, what is the first thing they notice? she tries to make an immediate character impression so she’ll go oh they seem boring, or childish, or invested. 

48. what do they see in their future? Dredge, Liz, Sundrop

49. what makes them smile? antics. pranks, doing silly things for no reason and succeeding. 

50. can they sing? can they dance? she hasn’t done much of either. 

51. what is the most beautiful thing in the world, for them? human (and not human lol) connection. she really loves flowers, they remind her of being back in skingrad. 

52. from whom do they seek validation? her parents (and the gods but that one set sail)

53. which is more frightening to them: day or night? night. she has to fall asleep eventually. 

54. what was their education like? she’s gotten a good basic education and a merchant’s education. 

55. whose hand do they reach out for? sundrop’s

56. what animal do they most relate to? giant rat, just chilling going absolutely wild until someone shows up and just starts wacking. 

57. what makes them angry? people giving up. 

58. what do they think their role in the party is? what is their role in actuality? she thinks she’s there to deal with people in a business sense. her real role is to just be real good at noticing. 

59. what is a quiet passion of theirs? she loves daydreaming and little figurines. 

60. do they whisper or yell more often? yell. 

61. what kind of flower would they choose to pick from a meadow? violets 

62. outside of otherworldly forces, what do they believe in? herself. that people are always going to do what’s best for themselves. 

63. what fight has scared them the most? fighting a dragon

64. do they value mercy or justice more? justice.

65. what is holding them back? currently, saving the world. 

66. who makes them feel warm? her family.

67. what makes them laugh? liz eating anything

68. what was the best moment of their life? the first night she had a real dream. 

69. how would they describe their party members? as her best friends. Liz is perhaps too sweet for this wofrld and she has no idea why she sticks around but is very grateful she does. Dredge is a grumpy old man with the funniest quips. Sundrop is confused but he’s got the spirit, but even still is loyal, which not many can say. 

#polly #onechickenugget

[riceccakes]

Feels Like This

Korra has a basketball game. Everything is about to change.

and here it is: the final installment, the completed Song Based Series. i may revisit this series in the future, though right now i am more than satisfied with what i've created. thank you if you’ve read any of these installments, i hope you've enjoyed reading.

Same Boat, Means Something, Feels Like This (Part 1) are the first three parts of this story, i suggest reading them first to understand the premise behind this series and the songs i based each part on.

read the final installment here on ao3

or right here on tumblr :) x

Korra rubbed her eyes, trying to make sure her mind wasn’t deceiving her. When the girl didn’t disappear, Korra truly couldn’t believe it. In the stands of Omashu University, Asami sat in one of the chairs, wearing her number six Fire Ferrets jersey, cheering for Korra.

She was tired, it was halfway through the third quarter and Korra had been, as usual, on fire. She’d already scored 20 points, completed 3 assists, and stole the ball twice. This was even before she saw Asami. Now after seeing her and watching the girl cheer for her, she had to show off, she had to impress her. She sat out the first few minutes of the quarter and walked over to her coach.

“Come on, Soh! Box her out! Take that rebound! Show her who’s boss!”

“Uh, hey, Coach?”

Coach Bumi turned and smiled. He slapped a hand on Korra’s shoulder and cheered, “Korra! What brings you over here? Yes, Soh! Now, pass that ball!”

Korra grinned. Bumi held his clipboard so tight, his hand started to turn white while the other was in an upturned fist. The whistle around his neck waved furiously as Bumi moved sporadically, as to keep up with where the ball was. He may have been a crazy coach, but he was a good one at that.

“Think you can put me back in? I’m feeling ready.”

Bumi turned to her, looking her up and down quickly before nodding. He called a timeout and took Leng out for Korra. She was getting placed back in as shooting guard, and while she preferred point guard, she knew she could still exhibit her abilities for Asami. Tasoka dribbled down court, analyzing the placement of teammates in front of her. Korra held up two fingers quickly before presenting an open palm. Tasoka nodded and passed the ball. Korra dribbled close to the floor, staying low. Kuvira was in position, Ranran opened up the center key. Korra bursted, weaving around the defender in front of her. She bounce-passed the ball to Kuvira, who was quickly met with Omashu’s defense, leaving a perfect hole for Korra. Kuvira faked a shot then passed it to Ranran, who set up an alley oop for Korra. The arena erupted in cheers as Korra landed on her feet after the dunk. She quickly found Asami again, who had cupped her hands around her mouth and was screaming.

Korra continued to display her skills, though didn’t hog the ball. She helped complete plays, keeping the ball moving around the court, but found the pockets of opportunity to shine. The game ended: Omashu 70, RCU 82. The stands began to empty out, the team stayed on the court to help clean and Kuvira found Korra. She looked at her with an all knowing grin and Korra slapped her shoulder. Korra had a smile on her face she couldn’t get rid of and now with the game over, she tried her hardest to understand how Asami could’ve come to the game.

Asami had even explicitly told Korra she wouldn’t be able to go, but she knew those emerald eyes anywhere. The team collected all their gear and walked out to the locker room. Bumi gave them a congratulatory speech and commended them on a job well done at both games. They earned the rest of their weekend and Monday practice off. The team exited and began to head towards the buses. Korra stood by the tall glass doors of Omashu’s arena and looked around for Asami. As a large crowd of Omashu fans dissipated, Korra spotted her girl doing the same as she was. She quickly ran over to her and dropped her duffle bag on the ground before scooping Asami up and swinging her around.

They laughed as Korra set her back down. Asami had even put on a little face paint of the school’s color under her eyes.

“Asami, I,” she began. Asami’s smile made Korra forget her train of thought and she shook her head, trying to regain her composure. “Asami, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, I just can’t believe you’re here!”

Asami shrugged, “I managed to finish my work earlier than expected. I took the Future Industries jet out Ba Sing Se yesterday--”

“Ba Sing Se?” Korra spurted, shaking her head again. “You watched the BSS game too?”

She nodded, “I couldn’t get better tickets on such short notice so I was kind of far back--”

“You came all this way to watch me play?”

Asami softened. Korra watched her eyes, the emerald green was still vibrant against the night. She could see them twinkle, she could see the love in her eyes.

“Well, I most certainly had to try,” Asami whispered. She sighed, “I felt bad for keeping it a secret but the look on your face when you were sitting on the bench was priceless!”

Korra looked up at the girl, dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe that Asami came, not only to Omashu, but to Ba Sing Se as well. She couldn’t believe Asami took the time out of her weekend to travel and watch two basketball games. No one else in Korra’s life was like that. She could count on her friends, on Mako and Bolin, no doubt, on Kuvira and recently Opal. She knew they had her back but none of them had ever been as selfless as Asami. The boys had viable reasons not to come, Bolin was meeting Opal’s parents and Mako had work orientation at his new job, but this wasn’t the first time Asami had come through like this.

Korra had been sick one summer, and it of course had to happen while Tenzin and his family had left for a mini vacation. She was staying at the boy’s apartment but they kept their distance, wanting to keep Korra’s ill germs away from them. Mako let her take his room while he slept on the couch, at least so guests could still sit there. Asami visited every day and did her best to take care of Korra. The girl explained what the best remedy was for her sickness, how her mother always made a pot of steaming hot stewed sea prunes and served it with a side of homemade blubbered seal jerky. It was more so a comfort than a cure but Korra so desperately wanted the items.

The next day, Asami came in with containers of stewed sea prunes and a package of seal jerky. She explained how she tried to stop at Narook’s to see if stewed sea prunes were on the menu but the restaurant was closed for reconstruction. She found a corner store in the Little Water Tribe neighborhood and asked the merchants how to make the dish. She gathered the ingredients and wrote down the steps, she found a decent package of seal jerky at a pop-up kiosk, and returned to the Sato mansion to make the stew. Apparently, she had to return to the corner store once more, because she over boiled the sea prunes and they turned into an undesirable mush. The second attempt was much better and Asami had to buy another package of seal jerky because she ate the other one while cooking.

Korra tasted the stew; it wasn’t her mother’s, but the fact that Asami made time to go to the Little Water Tribe neighborhood, buy items at the store, cook, go back to the store, and cook again, that stew was near perfect. Asami spent the rest of that day with Korra, stealing pieces of seal jerky and playing Mako’s video games. She wasn’t afraid of her germs, happily laying down next to her on the fresh set of sheets Mako put down for her.

Korra looked at Asami standing in front of her: the girl in her homemade jersey, the girl who traveled so far to see her play, the girl who Korra suddenly realized she was in love with; wholly and utterly, completely in love with. She knew right then the world hadn’t been playing a tiring game with her, rather setting her up for a perfect slam dunk.

The two had locked eyes and Korra hated the distance between them. It was much too far, only inches, but too many for her taste. Her heart was ready for takeoff; this was better than any college basketball victory, better than a crazy college rave, this was her future. There was no one else Korra wanted in her corner, no one else to travel hundreds of miles to watch her play, no one else to be the person she came home to. It may have been too early to be thinking about it, but Korra knew, she knew now, there was no denying anything, no need to question. She couldn’t take it any longer and grabbed Asami’s collar to pull her down and pressed their lips together.

Just like the party, her lips were sweet like cherries and Korra felt like she was flying. Asami began to deepen the kiss and Korra wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist to pull her closer. Korra could hear Kuvira cheering in the background but let it go, she’d deal with her teammate later. All Korra could think about was Asami, about the girl who stole her heart and she didn’t even know she had.

They pulled away and Asami began to stutter, “What, I--, Korra, what?”

Korra laughed, falling into Asami’s hands on her cheeks, “I had to, Asami, you,” she gulped, “you came all the way to Ba Sing Se and Omashu to watch me play, how could I not?”

Korra saw a tear fall from Asami’s eyes. Suddenly the girl was crying and she wrapped her arms around Korra’s neck and buried her face. Korra wasn’t sure what was happening, had it been the wrong move to kiss her? After Wing and Wei’s party, she’d thought for sure that Asami had liked her, or at least it was on her mind, but perhaps she misunderstood and Asami really was just too drunk to realize what she’d been doing.

Asami picked her head up slightly and whispered, “Korra, I’ve wanted you for so long, I never thought this would happen. I--”

“Wait, so these are happy tears?” Korra interrupted, shouting at the world who was teetering back and forth.

Korra backed up to look at Asami’s eyes, but as soon as she took a step, Asami closed the space once more and wrapped her arms around Korra’s neck, hugging her tightly. The tears were still falling from her face when they let go but Asami was smiling; Korra did the same as she wiped them away. Korra knew, she knew it all had to have meant something.

They gently placed their lips together as Kuvira cheered once more in the background.

#lok #legend of korra #korra #asami sato #korrasami #song based series #inspired by a song #feels like this #sean angus watson #final installment #series completed #ricewrites

[sulfurousdreamscapes]

Parts 8/8 complete.

Another record-breaking story for Sulfurous Dreamscapes! I'm really proud of the concept behind this one, and I'm keen to develop it as a WIP in the future.

Until then, feel free to read this short story treatment!

What: Girl finds man in a battle suit, who has been in a coma for 30 years.

How long: 5,500 words

Genre: Sci-fi

CW: War mention

-

Usually when something moves in the junkyard, it’s a rat or a wounded dog. This time, it was something else, and it was crushing the plastic and metal around it. Jodie and I were frozen with spray paint cans in our hands. The movement was just outside the light, so most of what we saw was our imagination, really.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, but Jodie shook her head.

“Wait,” she said and shook her can out of habit.

The heap of junk slid around, crunched, bent, dented and turned over. Jodie moved towards the heap, still shaking her can like it was pepper spray or something. I followed her, and I wondered if tonight was the night I was going to pull out my knife. Even Jodie didn’t know I carried a knife with me.

Jodie turned halfway towards me. “It’s a battle suit,” she said. “Hear the steps? It’s definitely a battle suit.”

“Let’s definitely get out of here,” I whispered back, but Jodie shook her head again. Instead she pulled a flashlight out of her pack and held it in her free hand.

As soon as the light clicked on, we saw the thing clearly. Grey metal, rusty and scratched all over, a humanoid battle suit maybe seven feet tall, crushing the garbage beneath it like it was walking on cardboard. There were no lights on it, not even tiny leds.

“Who the fuck is in it?” Jodie asked me. “That thing looks like it’s 30 years old. How is it even moving?”

“I wonder if its weapons still work,” I said. Jodie gave me a death stare and I shrugged in response.

The battle suit finally found level ground and was able to walk with more stability. One of its arms was limp, and its head was struggling to turn left and right.

“Maybe it’s a robot?” I asked. “I’ve never seen this model before.”

“If you saw this model, you’d be dead,” the battle suit said. Its voice was hoarse and thin, clearly of an elderly man.

“I don’t think it’s a robot,” Jodie said, turning halfway again. “They don’t give robots old-man voices.”

The battle suit raised its working hand and held a clenched fist pointed at us.

We waited.

“I think it wants us to give it a fist bump,” I said.

“They wrecked it pretty hard,” the battle suit man said. “I can’t prime my offensive systems. I can��t connect to the defence net. My arm is busted. I can’t move right. This is a fucking travesty.”

Jodie walked up to the battle suit, shaking her spray can as she went. “Last defence net shut down thirteen years ago, boss,” she said.

“What the heck is a defence net?” I asked from behind her.

The battle suit man grunted and lowered his arm. “It’s over, isn’t it? The war is over,” the man said. “I remember staring at the sky while pain surged through my body. I thought it was over for me, but a part of me said that the suit would keep me alive. I guess it did.”

Jodie whistled and stopped in front of the metal giant. “Didn’t think they had life support in battle suits that old,” she said. “I guess we keep underestimating history.”

She raised her spray can began showering the rusty metal with bubblegum pink paint. The man in the suit stood still, like he was receiving a medal.

“The war ended like, thirty years ago,” Jodie said. “You probably wanna get out of that clunker now.”

The battle suit man didn’t say anything. If it weren’t for the breathing picked up by his mic, I’d have thought he was dead.

“Wondering what happened to your friends and family, huh?” Jodie shook her head as she curved the spraying. “I guess you don’t want to find out.”

After she was done, she stood back to admire her work and shook the can some more.

It was a peace sign in glossy pink, emblazoned across the battle suit’s chest.

-

Everyone in the bus stared at us in the back, especially the kids, who stood on their seats and held onto backs of their seats. Jodie was reading a magazine, the kind with an oiled, nearly-naked person on the cover. I was trying to keep my attention out of the window. Meanwhile, the man in the battle suit sat with his right hand on his knee and his unlit gaze staring straight through the middle of the bus.

After Jodie was done with her magazine, she sighed extravagantly and stared at each of the passengers until they stopped looking at us.

“You should have a name,” Jodie said as she slapped her hand on the metal thigh. It was a pretty hard slap, you could tell from the sound.

“Jamshid,” the reply came.

Jamshid raised his right arm as if to slap Jodie’s thigh. She and I sat frozen, our eyes on the metal hand. A few seconds later, Jamshid put it back on his knee. “I thought it would be funny,” he said.

Our bus stop was in an underpass with graffiti and broken bricks. I identified some of the graffiti as Jodie’s handiwork, but it was my first time in that part of town.

“How far is she?” I asked, pulling out transparent slab of plastic that showed me a map of the area. Jamshid took a few steps closer to me, clearly looking at the map with interest.

“Not far,” Jodie said. “She’ll be super interested in the battle suit. She’s a collector of retro hardware, and a suit like this from the war… yeah, I think she’s gonna waive the repair fee on my bike.”

“And she can get Jamshid out of his suit?” I asked.

“Maybe,” she shrugged.

“That’s not what you said before,” Jamshid growled. “You said you know someone who can get me out of this suit.”

Jodie ran a hand over her peace sign handiwork on the chest of Jamshid’s suit. “I mean, it’s worth a shot,” she said. “What other option do you have? It’s not like we’re going to find the manufacturer warranty.”

“Take me to a military base,” Jamshid said.

“Yeah well, the military isn’t going to fix my bike for free, man,” Jodie shook her head. “And we’re not your mommies, you’re free to go if you think the military’s going to help you. If you lose us, though, I don’t know if you’ll ever find someone who can pull you out of that tin can.”

“The suit stays mine,” Jamshid grunted. “It’s not yours to sell.”

“That’s a lot of demands from someone who doesn’t even know if he can get out of his metal action figure,” Jodie snapped back. “Maybe you should just keep your suit with its limp arm and paralysed turning.”

I sighed and got between the two of them. “Can you two just relax? Let’s just get to Roohi and see what she has to say.”

Jodie and Jamshid stayed quiet from there as we entered the narrower alleys lined by street merchants and stray dogs. As in the bus, everyone had their eyes on the battle suit. And me? I had my knife.

-

Roohi loved the colour orange so much that she hung fake oranges and marigolds outside her door, her windows were stained orange, her walls were painted varying shades of orange, and the little glass mirrors on her bead curtains all reflected an orange juice reality.

As soon as you stepped into her place, it felt like you were on a different planet, or some kind of oddly colour-graded movie. Jamshid moved his battle-suited body a lot as he stared at the orange walls and the orange paper butterflies and the orange beads.

“Why is everything orange?” he asked as Jodie went to fetch Roohi.

“From what Jodie told me, it’s because Roohi’s father once gave each calendar month a colour, and Roohi’s birthday falls on the month marked ‘orange’. So she just kind of owned it,” I said.

“I’d get sick of it,” he said, but then he followed my gaze and turned around to find Jodie and Roohi enter the room.

Roohi whistled.

“When the hell did you learn to whistle?” Jodie asked her.

“A week ago,” Roohi laughed. “I had to modify the code a bit to have it work with my shell, but…” She whistled a tune from a popular song.

Jodie was carrying wrenches and screwdrivers in her hands, which she clattered onto a table that was already crowded by cables and hardware. As she went in to fetch more, Roohi’s wheels rolled forwards. Her digitised face looked intrigued while her periscope camera inspected the battle suit closely.

“Enki Original, oooh” she cooed. “This is a rare one. They had these imported, but very few were actually made. See, the acquisition was a hassle—corruption at every bureaucratic level, you know how it is. They got a few in, but most of the units that saw battle were Enki-Hydras. I didn’t know any of these Original models existed, let alone see battle.”

“There were several,” Jamshid said while Jodie reappeared and dumped more tools in. “They are hard to control, and only the best pilots could be trusted with them.”

“Yeah!” Roohi’s face lit up and her screen was crowded with happy emojis and hearts. “I’ve read that they had production issues, so they had to use off-the-market stabilisers and magnets. Again, corruption and stuff, you know how it is.”

Jodie leaned against the table, drenched in orange like the rest of us, and she put a hand on Roohi’s metal, egg-shaped shell. “We’re hoping to get our pal Jamshid out of his battle suit. Can you do it?”

Jamshid took a step forward with a clenched metal fist. “Get me out,” he said, grimly and resolutely. Militarily.

“Uh,” Roohi said, and didn’t say anything more for a while. We waited in what looked like the cabin of a sunk ship in an orange sea. “Okay, so, there’s no manuals for this kind of hardware. And they didn’t have standardised armouring systems back then, so you can only get this battle suit off at a very specific armouring station. I have no idea where you’d begin to find one for Enki Originals.”

Jamshid grunted and turned for the door. “I should’ve gone for the military first,” he said.

“Sorry, man,” Roohi said. Her screen made a disappointed face, the kind with a slanted line for a mouth. “I guess they could have one, but it’s still a long shot. You know how it is.”

Jodie began talking to Roohi about her bike, but I touched Jamshid’s arm. I couldn’t see a speck of emotion on his metal face, not even a flicker of light where his eyes were marked.

“It’s going to be alright,” I said. “We’ll find the military. We’ll get help for you.”

“It was alright,” he barked. “For 30 years, it was alright. It was all alright until I woke up.”

-

It took so long for the clerk to return from the archives room that I counted six different pencil-pushers finish their coffees. The entire time, Jamshid stood at attention, staring straight at the wooden door with the translucent window. I was on the verge of getting physically sick from all the bureaucracy.

“Did you say your last name was Nurzai?” the records clerk asked, stacking up the papers against the table.

“Yes,” Jamshid said. His breath caught his name with a slight hesitation, as if he were receiving a misplaced family heirloom.

“I’m not seeing anyone with that name, sorry,” the clerk said.

I leaned over her desk and frowned in her face. “Come on, check those papers, I’m pretty sure he’s there somewhere.”

The clerk clenched her fist like she wanted to knock me out. “These papers are not related to your case. We do more work at the Veteran’s Service Office than just…” she eyed me and Jamshid suspiciously. “Whatever it is you are doing.”

“N-o-o-r-z-a-i,” Jamshid said. “Try that spelling.”

The clerk sighed and spent a few precious seconds flattening the dog-ear crease at the corner of a document. Then she got up and disappeared behind the door marked ‘Archives’ again.

I checked the time. Jamshid waited. The ceiling fan creaked, and more cups of coffee were placed empty on glass desks. I hadn’t had any sleep in hours, and I half wanted to swipe everything on the clerk’s table to the floor, get on the desk, curl up, and sleep.

“You should get some sleep,” Jamshid grunted and turned 90 degrees to stop me from crashing on the desk, all with his right hand. “You’re getting tired. A tired body is a weak body.”

I glared at him, but it was no use. There was nothing to glare at, just a bunch of metal and more metal.

The door squeaked open, and the clerk brought exactly one page in her hands. It was yellowed and splotchy, and the edges were weathered. She placed it on her desk, right where my butt could have been, and traced the record with her finger.

“Enki Original?” she asked, looking up at Jamshid and then me. “It says here that Upper Tech Sergeant Noorani was killed in action. This is the date of death, location and time of engagement, date of notifications sent to family… all accounted for.”

“He wasn’t killed in action,” I said, feeling a new surge of waking. “He was injured and in coma for 30 years. His suit kept him alive, and he only recovered consciousness now.”

The clerk pursed her lips. “Did you memorise that?”

“Excuse me?” I leaned in close to her.

The clerk jabbed at the paper. “It says here that he is _dead_. Unless this individual you claim can prove that they are the same recruit as on record, we cannot make any amends or provide any support.”

“How the fuck is he supposed to prove that?” I asked. The office hushed and turned to face me. Moustaches and old hairstyles with fake pearl necklaces. I refocused attention on the clerk.

“Well, we would require biometric proof, such as fingerprints or retinal scans… those work the best as ID proofs.”

“He’ll need to get out of his armour to get fingerprints and retinal scans, lady,” I said. “Getting out of his suit is the reason we came to you in the first place. I mean come on, you’re the military, right? You guys _put_ him in his suit in the first place, and now you won’t let him out?”

The clerk groaned and rested her head on a fist. “Please approach me with the required documentation and I will move forward with your request.” Her voice was droning now. She looked like she wanted to lay on the desk and go to sleep herself.

-

They wouldn’t let Jamshid into the diner, so I had him wait outside while it rained. I got myself a chicken wrap and got out again to stand by him. He saw me fumbling with the umbrella while holding the wrap, and he offered to hold the umbrella for me. I said my thanks with a mouth full of spicy chicken.

“You don’t ever get hungry?” I asked him while we watched the cars cut through the water-glazed streets.

“I don’t,” he said. The way he said it, it was like he’d interrupted himself from saying ‘I don’t know’. He paused for a few moments. “I don’t feel hungry. I guess the suit injects me with suppressants.”

I shrugged. “That’s rough. But maybe not, I guess. It is sad, though, that you can’t eat.”

“Why is that sad?” he asked. I watched his armour glow in passing headlights, as if it was flaming torches passing us by.

“It feels good, my dude,” I said. “Just like cuddling, I guess. Or what everyone says sex is supposed to feel like. It’s just the most basic thing that feels good to anyone, that’s eating for you. You won’t ever hear anyone in the world say they hate eating. It’s like lying down after a really, really, tired day.”

I was expecting him to say something, but I ended up listening to the patter of the rain like it was call hold music.

Then I got it.

“Well, shit,” I said. “You can’t do any of those things now, can you? I’m sorry.”

“Your friend, Roohi,” Jamshid asked unexpectedly. “Was she… is she… well, is she a real person? Or is she a robot?”

“Oh, she’s not my friend,” I reacted as I reached the bottom of my chicken wrap. “She’s Jodie’s friend, really, and even then, not so much. They’ve known each other for a long time, maybe even since Jodie was a kid.”

“So she was in a shell? Even then?” Jamshid asked.

I paused tantalisingly close to gobbling up the last morsel of the wrap. “You know, I never thought to ask,” I said. “Maybe she was? I never really thought about any of that—whether she grew up human, or if she’s always been in a shell. I just thought she was cool.”

“Maybe she grew up human and had a very serious injury and she had to be put into that thing,” Jamshid said.

I finished the wrap and crumbled the paper cover that came with it. “Maybe she was born in a computer lab and all the memories she has of her father and his calender of colours—all that is just a script written by some imaginative intern. They’re both just as valid.”

“They’re not,” Jamshid said. Like before, he seemed to have stopped himself from saying any more. This time, he seemed to be reconsidering what he had just said.

“I’m gonna get another one, with sweet onion sauce this time,” I said, and returned to the diner.

Inside, most of the tables were empty and the few patrons there were loners. The woman behind the counter looked a lot more pleasantly at me than before, probably that I’d given her no trouble.

I placed my order and drummed my fingers against the counter, leaning back and forth to the rhythm of the music in the diner. My pocket buzzed, and I pulled out my phone to find Jodie’s face plastered on it with a toothy grin.

“You coming to the 'yard tonight?” she asked.

“Nah, I’m hanging with Jamshid,” I said.

“Still?” she groaned and cursed under her breath. “He isn’t a dog, you know. You don’t have to take care of him.”

“I know,” I said, but I didn’t have anything to qualify my position. “But he’s cool. I want to help him see his… I don’t know, his quest through.”

“His quest?” Jodie laughed and cursed at the same time. “You’re a slut for charity.”

“Did you get your bike back?” I asked.

“Nah, Roohi is being a hard ass,” she groaned again. “Says your new friend wasn’t good enough. Says 'What am I supposed to do with this? Money don’t grow on trees!’ and other bullshit. I mean come on.”

“Tough luck,” I said. “Maybe if you hadn’t wrecked it.”

Jodie chuckled. “Girl, that bike has a destiny of its own. It doesn’t matter if I wrecked it or not, it was just destined to get wrecked at that time of its life. You know what I mean?”

“I know that my chicken wrap is here.” I smiled and waved cutely before cutting the call.

The lady approached the counter and handed me by wrap while I swiped the payment on my phone.

“Nothing for your friend there?” she asked, nodding at the door.

“He doesn’t eat,” I said.

“Ah,” she said. “A robot?”

I raised a middle finger at her and left the diner with my wrap.

-

“So how different is the city from when you last saw it?” I asked. The robot-pulled rickshaw slid cleanly by the edge of the street. It was heavy, but at least the robot wouldn’t complain about a man in a battle suit.

“This isn’t the same city,” Jamshid said. “Not anymore.”

“After the war, the city changed a lot.” I felt a bump under the wheels of the rickshaw. “So much was damaged, they had to practically rebuild the city anew. Lots of people died, too, so they had to bring it immigrants from all over. Jodie’s parents were immigrants—but you probably figured that out already.”

“It used to be more beautiful back then,” Jamshid said. “Quieter, greener. People dressed decently, talked decently.”

“Declared war decently,” I added, and Jamshid scoffed under his helmet.

“I don’t recognise any of these streets,” he said. “Is this where you live? I don’t think this district even existed back then.”

“Nah, this one is pretty old,” I told him. “Perch, if you’ve heard of it.”

“Perch,” Jamshid said, almost like a machine hiss. “Parrot’s Perch. My family used to live in Parrot’s Perch.”

I turned to face the metal man. “No kidding?” I grinned. “Where? Maybe I know the place.”

Jamshid recited his address: a number, a building name, a street, a main street, a neighbourhood, a wider area, and finally, ‘Parrot’s Perch’. It was like he was reading off of a piece of paper in front of him.

“Uh yeah, none of those are ringing any bells,” I said. “But then they renamed all the streets after the war, and some places, too. I mean, you call it Parrot’s Perch, I call it just the Perch.”

“Kozue. That was an alcohol shop downstairs,” he mumbled. “And a bakery across the street. What was that name? Foragers’ Bakes. Funny name. Funny story behind it, too.”

I input the names he was mentioning into the Map and did not find any hits. The shop names were a bust, but I did find the street names in a database online. Navigating the old website for useful information was a mess, and I was really ticked off, but I finally found the name I was looking for.

“I found it. No liquor shop or bakery on there, but well…”

“Which way is it?” Jamshid asked with a tone of slight urgency.

“To the left from here, and then straight, taking another left by the bend,” I said.

“You heard her, rickshaw-bot,” Jamshid barked, and the robot recited an acknowledgement before turning to the left, down a street I’d seen a few times before.

“Maybe there’s someone in the area who knows your family. Someone old enough,” I said.

Jamshid held onto the steel railing in front of it. He gripped it so tightly, I was worried he’d damage the rickshaw. “I just want to see what it’s like now,” he said. His voice was a lot less convincing than it had been before.

We took the left at the bend, and as soon as the rickshaw stopped, Jamshid got up and jumped off. I swiped a payment and got down as well.

Jamshid stared at the mega-supermarket that spanned almost the entire length of the street. Shopping carts rattled and shoppers walked out with sodas and beers, clutching their precious bags of chips. Jamshid kept walking down the street, his angle seemingly ignoring the supermarket next to him. Finally, he found a really, really old fire hydrant. Jodie doesn’t even know what a fire hydrant is.

“Do you recognise it?” I asked.

“I’ve seen enough,” he grunted, and turned around before marching back from where we came.

-

When my parents are away for a while, I like to sleep on the roof. There’s no bed there, so I carry a thick mattress up. Jamshid helped carry it for me. I tossed the pillow onto one end and stretched myself under a black-orange sky. If you looked hard enough, you could see a star or two.

“Do you regret all this?” I asked. “Getting into the suit and all… I’d regret it.”

“I knew the risks,” Jamshid replied. He was looking at the city… or what would be seen of it, given that we didn’t exactly live in a high-rise.

“Did you?” I leaned back and looked at him with my head upside-down. “Did you know you’d be trapped in the suit for 30 years because of a coma?”

Jamshid sighed dryly. “No, I didn’t know that,” he said.

“What did you know? What did they tell you?”

“I’d read the literature,” he said. “I thought I’d be invincible. Hits that could kill a man would just be scratches on metal for me. It was supposed to be really quick, too. Forty minutes, that’s it. They didn’t want to tax these things too much that early.”

“Forty minutes?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Jamshid said. “And five of those would be assembly and disassembly. It was a quick engagement, and we were the cavalry. A special surprise just when the enemy thought they had us on the run.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, we won,” I said.

“Of course we did,” Jamshid said. “We knew that even back then. The enemy never really had a chance, but they fought fiercely. I thought I’d be back at the base in an hour. I’d be eating sausages in the mess. That hour never really ended for me.”

I watched a tiny black insect crawl along the surface of the rood, tiny antennas feeling twitching and searching. It scampered away when my phone began vibrating with a call. It was Jodie again. I swiped yes.

“Hey, Roohi wanted to talk to you about your new dad,” Jodie said, and handed her phone to Roohi’s metal arm.

“Hey honey,” Roohi greeted me. Her voice sounded less electronic, somehow. “I was wondering if your friend is still with you. I couldn’t help but get curious, and I wanted to know if I could find out more about him.”

“What can you find out about him?” I asked.

“I don’t know!” Roohi laughed. “Anything. I just wanna go digging.”

“Jodie’s that boring, huh?” I asked, and Roohi laughed for half a minute straight. I got up with the phone and walked up to Jamshid. “What do you wanna know?”

“Could you check his serial number, honey?” Roohi asked. “Should be somewhere on his chest, over where his heart should be.”

I scanned his chest. It took a while as I asked Roohi what to look for, and she told me what to look for, and I finally found what I was looking for. A small metal plate, the side of maybe three of my fingers. It had a serial number, a model number, and a bar code of some sort. Below that were the initials of the armed forces. The pink paint had narrowly missed the plate. Any further to the right, and it would be gone.

I took a picture of the plate and sent it to Roohi, who cut the line after a very curt thanks.

“Roohi’s gonna dig up what she can about you,” I told Jamshid, who just grunted. “Maybe she can find out something that could get you out of there.”

“Please don’t,” he said, and laid his working hand on the chain link around the roof’s edge.

“You don’t want to get out of there?” I asked.

“I don’t want to think about getting out,” he replied. “Because then I have to think about not getting out.”

I nodded and looked at the floor for a while. “But you know,” I said. “That’s the same as not thinking about success, because then you have to think about failure. If you do that, you’ll never be successful.”

“I don’t want to be successful,” he said. “I just want to not fail.”

Before I could respond, he held up his hand at me, making a stop gesture. I shoved my hands in my pyjama pockets.

My phone buzzed again, and I picked up the call.

“So this was kind of hard, given how fucking awful government websites are,” Roohi said without any greetings. “But I’ve got his name, rank, posting, origin. I did a few more searches, and I found his family, too. I know where they live now.”

I looked up at Jamshid. “Did you hear that?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, still staring out at the city.

-

The van-cab ride blew a chunk of my account balance, but I figured this was going to be worth it. I wasn't going to make Jamshid ride a bus to see his own family. On the way, we stopped at a record store. He made me buy a very old record called "Midnight Flight". The cab driver was a little annoyed we took so long, but I guess he didn't want to complain to a customer in a battle suit.

Jamshid held the record in front of him in the van, reading the back of the sleeve. I tapped my foot to a song that Jamshid would never have heard of. The blip on the map drew closer and closer to its destination.

"You must be nervous," I said.

Jamshid lowered the record from between us. "Are you going to stay out?"

I hadn't expected that, so I gave it some thought.

"What do you want me to do?" I finally asked.

"I don't know," he said, and his voice was a lot weaker than it usually is. "I don't even know what I want to do."

The van pulled over and the driver pulled the doors open. He was grinning under his spiky moustache. "You know, I mostly carry cargo. A real, flesh-and-blood person in a battle suit? Can't say I ever imagined that."

"Thank you for the ride," Jamshid said as he got out.

The alley we had to pass through was so cramped that we had to walk one behind the other. Jamshid's battle suit barely squeezed through, and there was still a fair bit of scratching on the sides. Wires hung from above, carrying data and power, and the tiles below were broken, some even before Jamshid stepped on them.

After some asking around, we found the address. The door looked like it could fall off any minute. A bunch of boys sitting on bikes nearby eyed us, splitting their attention between me and Jamshid. Crows took turns watching us.

I rang the doorbell.

We waited.

The door opened to reveal a woman wiping her hands on a rag. She was squinting at first, but that turned into an alarmed frown when she saw Jamshid's battle suit. "Who are you?"

"This is Jamshid Noorzai," I said. "You're his family."

The woman half-turned back and yelled out a name, and mentioned that there's a man in a battle suit at the door. Multiple sets of feet shuffled inside. The first out were a pair of kids: both girls, mouths agape and looking at Jamshid like he was a god.

An older woman appeared from inside. Her hair looked like white cotton candy, and she wore a rather cheap gown. She wore the kind of eyeglasses that have a thin chain on them.

Jamshid made a sound, and his breathing was loud enough for all of us to hear.

The older woman was also frowning as she made her way to us, and the younger woman stepped aside, herding the kids away. The older woman grimaced at us while she squinted for a better look through her eyeglasses.

"Who are you two? What do you want?" she asked.

I repeated what I had said to the younger woman before.

The woman looked a little angry now, a little disgusted, like I'd made a profane joke about a dead person. She could've eaten my head clean off. "There is no Jamshid Noorzai," she said. "He died three decades ago."

"I got you this," Jamshid said, lifting his record, making sure the front cover was facing the woman. "Happy birthday, sis."

The older woman stared at the record and the anger and the disgust faded away, washed away by her watering eyes. Her head shook a little. She looked up at Jamshid.

"I guess I missed thirty birthdays," he said. "But this is what you wanted first, so I got it for you, just like I said I would."

"Jamshid?" the woman asked. Her voice was choked, and the tears were breaking through now.

"We'll figure out the other twenty-nine birthday gifts later, right?" Jamshid said.

The woman took a few steps closer, and she embraced the battle suit, pressing her head against the peace sign on the chest. Her tears flowed down the metal. When she began crying, it was like her voice was being snapped in half each time.

Jamshid placed his working hand on her back and pressed her against him. "I told you, didn't I?" he said. "I told you I wasn't lying. I told you I'd really come back, and I'd bring the record with me. It just took me a while, that's all."

I wiped the tears off my own eyes. The younger woman touched my shoulder. "Why don't you sit? Would you like something to drink?"

I hugged her.

#writing #writeblr #words #spilled ink #spilled words #daily writing #original fiction #original prose #short story #short stories #short fiction #fiction #flash fiction #flash fic #creative writing #literature #prose #spilled prose #writers #writers on tumblr

[omgrachwrites]

May Queen (Loki Laufeyson)

Pairing: OC x Loki

Summary: Astrid, the princess of Vanaheimr relocates to Asgard to seal a betrothal to the youngest prince. She soon finds happiness and a multitude of new friends. Unfortunately treachery and deceit lie in the court of Asgard in unlikely places, and she learns that true love never dies.

Warnings: fluff, little bit of angst, mentions of blood

Words: 2198

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this first part and please let me know what you think! I love you all very much! xxx

Part One - Lady of the Forest

The ten year old prince of Asgard was perched at the window seat in the palace’s library; the sun through the stained glass of the window was casting dusty pillars of light over Loki’s head as he pored through his tome. He’d taken to reading in the library of late, he was nearly always solitary – sometimes his mother Frigga would read to him, the sun making her hair shine like soft spun gold.

Loki had hated being on his own at first, his best friend and brother – and the future king – Thor had started to join their father when he convened his small council despite Thor’s tender age. Father had said that it would be better for Thor to learn what it means to be a king sooner rather than later. Loki would never have to carry out the burden of ruling the kingdom when their father passed so Loki was never allowed to attend the council meetings.

Loki remembered when his mother had appealed to father, begging him to keep Thor from the council meetings until he was at least of aged. Father wouldn’t hear of it though and their quarrel had lasted for days.

The young prince was completely immersed in his book which a travelling merchant had collected from Midgard and he’d presented it before the princes as a gift. It was based in a land where magic was forbidden and the servant to the king was a sorcerer. The tale was wondrous and fraught with spectacles but one thing confused Loki. The Queen who was clearly married to the King was in love with one of the knights. He couldn’t understand how she could love two men at once. However, it was a detail that Loki was forced to overlook.

The golden gilded door to the library opened as quiet as a whisper and his mother was smiling at him from her place in the doorway. Frigga looked especially radiant today in swirling skirts of leaf green silks and her golden hair fell past her shoulders in elaborate curls. Not for the first time Loki reflected on the fact that he really didn’t look like his mother with his inky black hair and ice blue eyes but he knew that Frigga loved him all the same.

“Hello mother,” Loki spoke pleasantly as he lifted his eyes from the yellowed pages of his book, closing it with a snap.

“Hello sweetling,” Frigga smiled and placed a hand in her son’s hair, “I’m going for a ride in the forest beyond Asgard, would you care to join me?”

“I would be delighted mother,” he beamed, the enchanted forest was his favourite place to be, in every season, even when thick snow concealed the green blades of grass and the trees were stripped of their previously burnt orange leaves, “is Thor coming too?”

His mother’s face didn’t change but he saw the light dwindle in her eyes slightly and somehow he knew the answer, “he’s in a council meeting with your father darling, I’m sorry.”

Loki nodded as he placed his book back on the shelf and he refused to acknowledge his mother’s sympathetic eyes or the pain in his heart as he followed Frigga to the stables. The prince grinned as he rode his white pony at a steady pace, the warm air smelled of grass and the perfume of the summer flowers. Personally, Loki preferred the winter flowers, he liked the fact that they grew even when the climate was unforgiving.

Loki would never admit it out loud – it was a secret just for himself – bit he was almost glad that Thor couldn’t come. Even at his young age Thor was raucous and was always singing bawdy songs. Thor was far too loud for the enchanted forest; Loki could sense the magic that dwelled within the thicket of trees. Loki’s ears nearly pricked up as he heard the trickle of the babbling brook.

“Might I ride on mother? Towards the brook,” he asked in a whisper, not wanting to disturb the beautiful peace. The Queen graced him with a smile as she glanced to the small array of guards who had sworn to protect them.

“As you wish sweetling, but do be careful.”

With a quick promise and a beaming grin that reached his eyes he rode past the trees and into the clearing. With a startling feeling of shock he saw that he wasn’t the only one who had come to visit the trickling stream and see all the flowers in bloom. She seemed to be of an age with Loki, she was dipping her feet in the clear water.

She had long icy blue hair that reached the floor and the hem of her dress seemed to be purely crafted out of white roses. Her eyes were pointed at the top rather than rounded but what really entranced Loki were the pearly wings protruding from her back, glistening pink and green even in the shadow of the trees.

He’d heard of the Fae that lived deep in the forest but Loki had never thought to see one. Suddenly, his snow white pony snorted impatiently, tossing its thick mane. The fairy gasped in a sweet voice as she lifted her beautiful head to see Loki and she made to run deeper into the trees, gathering up her skirts.

“Wait! Please!” he blurted, finally finding his voice as he clumsily vaulted off his steed, “I’m not going to hurt you,” he held up his hands to show her that he had no weapons.

“You’re not?” she questioned as she narrowed her hazel eyes at him suspiciously but she seemed to feel safe enough to approach him slightly.

“Of course not,” he smiled at her.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice was sweet like warm honey.

“I’m Loki, Prince of Asgard,” he gave her a bow which she giggled at; it was hauntingly beautiful, just like music, “who might you be?”

“My name’s Mara.”

“Are you a princess my lady?” he asked, she was certainly beautiful enough to be one, “you are very fair,” he’d overheard Thor talk that way to the young ladies of the court, who had rewarded him with a blush and a giggle. Mara didn’t giggle again but a patch of pink spread from the apples of her cheeks, all the way to her ears.

“No, I’m not a princess, my prince,” she smiled.

The prince and the fairy were soon sitting side by side on the bank of the stream; Loki only rose from his place on the springy grass when his mother called out for him

“You will come back won’t you?” she asked in a hushed tone, looking apprehensive as if she had expected Loki to say no, “please don’t tell anybody about me.”

“I’ll come back and on my honour, I won’t speak a word about you,” he promised as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her hand and in the next moment he was gone.

True to his word, Loki came back to her as often as he could for the next few years, Loki only grew more handsome and Mara more beautiful. When they were fourteen years old Loki almost told her that he loved her. At fifteen they shared a kiss that was full of hesitance and childish laughter. About a week after his sixteenth name day he rode out to their secret grove, today was the day, he was going to tell the fairy that he loved her.

When he arrived at the grove he saw – which was most unusual – that Mara was not there, “Mara?” he called and his voice echoed, “Mara, please, this isn’t amusing!” once again he was met by silence. He called her name over and over until he was close to tears, yet she still wouldn’t come.

His heart leapt for joy when he heard a rustle in the bushes, “Mara?” he called again but this time he had much more hope in his voice. He heard a harsh giggle that sounded nothing like his fairy’s tinkling laugh. About a moment later two people came stumbling out of the surrounding bushes. He recognised the auburn haired girl from the palace and of course he recognised his brother who was lacing his pants back up.

When Thor saw Loki standing there, his eyes grew wide as he saw the thunderous look on Loki’s face, Thor had defiled the most sacred of places, “brother,” he began but Loki mounted his horse and shooting his brother a filthy look he rode away without a word.

When Loki had arrived back at the palace he felt empty and he vowed never to go back to the grove. He had once thought the grove blessed and beautiful but now he knew that it was cursed.

——————————————————-

Astrid sat by her high windows and looked out at the palace grounds, she saw the beauty of them and the sight of the albino peacocks patrolling but they didn’t fill her with joy as they normally did. All she saw was ghosts of but a week past. Her best friend and her handmaiden had been caught stealing from Astrid’s chambers.

Although she had felt devastatingly betrayed she still had pleaded with her mother to let the girl go without punishment. The loss of her job would be punishment enough. Surprisingly, her mother conceded and dismissed the girl though Astrid knew that mother would have taken a hand if she could. It was the customary punishment for a thief.

The princess had watched from her window as they carted away her former handmaiden. She did not cry though, she couldn’t, it was though all her tears had dried up before she could shed them. Instead, she drew the curtains around her bed and slept, never knowing whether it was day or night.

A soft knock came at the door of her chambers, “are you decent my lady?” she recognised the voice and she could almost see the smirk on his handsome face.

“Come in Erik,” she smiled as the door creaked open and she smiled at the handsome youth with fire in his hair and the stars in his eyes.

“The Queen requests your presence in her solar princess,” he offered her his arm which took away the slight sting that he’d not come just to see her. With a graceful smile she took the young knight’s arm and they walked down the long winding corridors.

“How have you been my lady? I was sorry to hear about the unfortunate situation with your handmaiden.”

“I was too Sir,” she replied bluntly, she truly didn’t know how she felt so she couldn’t possibly tell Erik.

Inside of her mother’s solar there was a pretty young girl who seemed to be the same age as Astrid. She was shaking from fear as she glanced about the room with its rich velvet tapestries and endless walls of books which had been the late King’s.

“We found her unconscious in the forest princess,” the Captain of the guard told her.

The girl’s golden hair was matted and Astrid saw with alarm that her face was bruised and bloody. Astrid hoped that the guards had treated this stranger gently. This was a time for the princess to be especially gentle and kind, slowly she glided towards the gold backed chair that the stranger was sitting in and Astrid took the girl’s hands.

“What’s your name?” Astrid smiled gently to show the girl that she was no threat, soft hazel eyes looked at her in fear then glanced around at the guards that were stationed around the room.

“Everybody out. Now.” She ordered and raised an eyebrow, almost daring the guards to challenge her, “you too mother,” the Queen was a kind woman but she had a rather stern face. The guards looked annoyed but they left without another word. However, Astrid’s mother gave her a proud look as she departed from the room.

“My name’s Mara, if it please you, my lady,” the girl whispered in a broken voice, “it was as the guards told you, they found me unconscious in the forest,” her eyes grew misty with tears, now that she’d started talking she couldn’t seem to stop, “I lost my family.”

Astrid felt saddened for Mara, “do you have anywhere else that you can go?”

Pearly tears fell from Mara’s eyes as she shook her head, “nowhere would want me.”

Mara seemed so distressed and exhausted that Astrid had to send for a healer to take Mara to the spare chambers so she could sleep. Later on, Astrid was feasting with her mother in the conservatory that overlooked the clear blue lake and the snow-capped mountains. The smell of summer wine was on the air and sweet music played.

“It seems to me that you are in need of a new handmaiden my darling,” her mother began, “and one that has nowhere to go and owes you her life seems to be the right one for the job. A sweet notion.

“I was thinking the same mother,” Astrid beamed, elated that she was finally thinking like a leader.

——————————————————- 

@theonelittleone @void-imaginations

#loki #loki fluff #loki angst #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki marvel #loki au #au #tom hiddleston #thor #thor odinson #fluff #angst #marvel fluff #marvel angst #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #slow burn romance #slow burn #unrequited love

[donttouchmyasymptote]

Old Enough To Read Again || Darabella

Happy Holidays, @eccentricextrovert ! I know you love Darabella (as well The Adventure Zone, which doesn’t feature at all in this fic, but I also love TAZ so let’s talk about that too sometime), so I wrote you some for the @eah-exchange <3

It took a good month for Daring to realise that dating- no, courting, Rosabella was a bit more than extravagant gifts.

To be fair, courting any princess at Ever After High was more than extravagance. For some, being born with a silver spoon in their mouths meant that the taste dulled their senses until they could accept no less than platinum. For others, raised by wet nurses and with dead mothers and distant fathers and the lived experience that a jewelled crown came with a political weight, every bit of gold seemed that of a fool’s. For many, they knew that if someone had to put a monetary value on marriage, and that they were priceless and deserving of things better than riches, like loyalty or trustworthiness, or like, really good biceps.

(Rosabella was pretty fond of his really good biceps, if linking arms on the way to classes or dates was any sign, so Daring knew he wasn’t doing too shabbily.)

And to be fair, Rosabella kept all of the gifts. She had a few expensive rocks tucked up on one of her bookshelves, and all the flowers placed in a vase until they expired their time. She shared chocolates with Daring, but not without small tangents on rising sea levels, on how dwarf mines were an unsustainable power resource, on how magical energy was not being harnessed in renewable ways and that the waste was spreading to other magical regions, most notably Wonderland, and because of all that, the fairytale universe was getting hotter and that wasn’t just because natural selection meant that only those regarded as most beautiful in their lands got shots at marriage, and that meant that the cacao plants were going to die out and with that so many sweets-filled destinies and--

Unfortunately, he only fixated on the most minor of parts. “No fear, Rosabella! We shall sort out this waste issue. Dragons fly vast distances, surely they can take any trash off to some far, far, far off land. I’m thinking America.”

To which, she had only lightly scolded and told him not to dump their own issues on other, unsuspecting people. “Think of the Ozians! They’re unstable as it is!”

The next time Daring bought her chocolate, he made a deal about it being Fair Fairy Trade, with practises, through what research he could do, that were environmental friendly and didn’t involve underpaid fae labour. When Rosabella kissed his cheek and called him thoughtful, he felt his heart warm up inside.

~*~

“Am I doing well?” he asked, when Rosabella came up to him after classes, handed him a coffee, and looped her free arm around his.

“What do you mean?”

He blanked. “Uhm.” Daring Charming did not lose grace in social situations. “I’m totally dashing and cool, right?”

“I like you, yes,” she said, and leaned up to gently kiss him on the nose. “You are the next Beast. I’d be a little miffed if I didn’t.”

Daring wasn’t confident with that response. Author Grimm-it, he was quite fond of Rosabella. He was determined to impress her, to stand out among Ever After High’s avalanche of handsome princes, but it seemed naught when all he had to offer was pretty when she was that too, and on top of it, clever and dedicated and knowledgeable…

“The next Beast,” the words ran in his mouth strangely. It had been a while since he realised that he would soon follow Rosabella in her destiny, and abandon what he thought was his future life for the past decade. With Rosabella, things felt right. “Rosabella, I’m sorry if I don’t quite seem as princely as I do normally. My real role is just a completely, fair-y, fair-y different role from the one I thought I had.”

“I think you’re doing royally well,” she squeezed his hand. “There’s a lot to being the next Beast. For starters, you’re no longer just a trophy husband.”

He looked down at his coffee. Trophy husband. Daring knew of princes who resented that term. He never did, but he would always pass by conversations in common rooms -- ‘no matter how the world sells the narrative, we are naught but prizes for princesses’, ‘it doesn’t matter how many witches or woods they endure, we deserve autonomy too’. Ill-complaints, he had thought. The World of Ever After was still tilted in princes’ favours. His roommate, Hopper, had once tried to offer his input to these common room rifes, but was shot back with ‘isn’t your princess meant to kill you in your original? No amount of revisionism will save you, amphibian boy’.

How did Rosabella know this term? She liked activism circles, didn’t she? How much she did absorb from these princes?

Just-- what a fascinating princess. So steadfast, always holding her ground. Daring felt like he couldn’t keep up. Sometimes, he wanted to just sit back and listen to her talk for hours. Whatever topic, whatever rant, that voice, that mind, her ideas.

“For an eldest son, you never had to do much outside of hero stuff, did you?”

Rosabella was right. Daring never really thought much about ruling. Destiny for him used to be so simple - be handsome, and be certain about being handsome. Kiss a princess, wave a weapon around or so.

He thought about Apple and the role of Snow White. He thought about how, once, he had to ‘rescue’ her. How simple it was - a quick kiss.

Did he ever think about Happily Ever After afterwards? Not really. Snow White had been named one of Faebes’ top world leaders for decades now, with pretty much a monopoly on rare Dwarf minerals. Apple was the one that would have been crowned queen; they were not meant to be joint monarchs.

“No…” he confessed. “I mean, I get good grades in Kingdom Management. But I used to think that Apple would handle the political side of things.”

She grinned, and loosened her looped arm to grab his waist and pull him in. “Good. You won’t have to.”

“Rosabella, don’t think so little of me!” he tried to amplify his voice to sound strong, but a slight whinge remained. “I am not completely useless--”

Having finished her coffee by now, Rosabella put her free hand on his chest. “No, no, I didn't mean to insult you. I meant, you won’t have to rule over anyone. We don’t have people.”

“... what?”

“Other than the castle staff, we don’t have subjects,” she said. “Beauty’s the youngest daughter of a rich merchant. My coronation will be an incorporation.”

Daring blinked. “Coronation… incorporation?”

And she explained. How, because each generation, the beast’s castle would be secluded, so when destiny was done and over, him and Beauty had to live and move into it. Twenty to thirty years was too short of a time to cultivate any stable population, so the kingdom was not remodelled into a county, but a company. It was a versatile move on her predecessor’s part, so that no matter the gender of the heir, their lives would be properly set up in a manner to fulfill the story accurately.

He never realised how much he failed to ask about her.

And to think -- the times she thought about him: how she got through all the list of action movies he loved, or how she remembered his ever-complicated drink orders and the moods in which he preferred them, or the efforts she put into being friendly with Dexter and Darling, and reminding Daring about their lives. No detail seemed to slip from her mind.

“A lot of words! A lot of thought!” he said. “No wonder you’re as you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so smart. And well-read! I cannot keep pace with you all the time. It’s highly empress-ive.”

She beamed. “I think highly of you too.”

“I feel like every time we hang out, I learn more. I just… I just hope I’m not boring you. Maybe I should read like you, too.

There - her smile faltered.

Daring felt a very sudden, cold fear that he had upset her.

“I mean, other than for activism purposes, I haven’t really been reading. Legacy Year really thrones you in for a loop,” Rosabella took off her glasses and dusted them with a handkerchief - one that Daring recognised, for he had gifted it. “Too much time spent memorising crowns from birth to coronation, or looking into newly passed legislation. I want to read again.”

“You can read to me.” The response was instantaneous. “I like your voice. I like hearing you talk.”

“If I read to you, those aren’t my thoughts. But I appreciate it, Daring,” she smiled up at him. Even the roses that frequented her family castle’s gardens could not compare to her.

Daring recalled the warm feeling in his stomach, when Rosabella had kissed him for the Fairy Trade Chocolate.

“As a prince that should dash to every lovely princess’ needs, I will make time for you-- so you can make time to read!”

“We’ll start simple. Animal Farm.”

~*~

It had started out simple: hours spent under the trees in the Legacy Orchard, or Rosabella trying to read over the sound of the wind while dragonback riding, her voice starting to sound like a death metal song, or secluded areas of the Castleteria.

But the pages of the books dragged out longer, and Daring grew more eager for fiction, and by the time Rosabella cracked open a copy of Robert Iron Heinrich’s Stranger in a Strange Far, Far Away Land, reading already became an evening past-time on one of their couches in one of their dorm rooms.

At some point in these evenings, he would be comfortable enough to tuck his head between the nape of her chin and clavicle. Comfortable enough to have one arm across her waist, comfortable enough for his breathing to fall in sync with the weight of her words.

And eventually, comfortable enough to kiss for a bit, though never for long. There were books to get to, after all.

(Besides, Rosabella’s voice was perhaps one of the nicest things to fall asleep too.)

#ever after high #darabella #daring charming #rosabella beauty #eccentricextrovert #eahexchange