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livesincerely · 6 months

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[Bits & Bobs] hungry like the wolf

My Halloween fic that’s longgg past overdue but is still chugging along. The little fanfic that could, if you will.

feat. Werewolf!Jack and Incubus!Davey. The E-rated section is deep under the cut

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Davey taps his fingers against the side of his glass, rolls his shoulders back, then says, “So, don’t feel obligated, is what I’m trying to say. I only want to do this if we’re both interested, and for the right reasons.”

“I promise ya, the last thing I’m feelin’ is obligated,” Jack drawls. “Jus’ as long as we’re both on the same page.”

But Davey still looks uncertain.

“And you’re okay with the whole…” He makes a vague hand-wavy motion over himself. “I’m told my aura can be a touch… overwhelming, once it starts to take effect.”

“‘M not too worried,” Jack says with a shrug. “Werewolves are immune to almost everything—lycanthropy doesn’t exactly play well with other types of magic. Mother Moon tends to be pretty possessive of her children, I guess.”

“Sounds handy,” Davey says.

“‘S got its uses,” Jack agrees. “So you don’t gotta worry ‘bout enchantin’ me or nothin’.” He offers up his most charming smile. “At least, not any more than you already have.

A laugh bubbles off of Davey’s lips. His entire demeanor seems to brighten several clicks, like drawing back a curtain to let in the sun.

“That was smooth!” he accuses, sounding utterly delighted about it.

“I try,” Jack says, just as captivated, grinning right back. “Hopefully, I’m doin’ somethin’ right. You strike me as the kinda guy that’s pretty damn hard’ta impress.”

“Oh, believe me, you’re already head and shoulders above most of my past failures,” Davey says.

“You’re joking,” Jack says, disbelieving. “Been seein’ some real gems, have ya, cariño?”

“If only,” Davey scoffs. “You should’ve seen the last guy, he couldn’t even—“

Davey stops. Then Davey blushes, a flush of pink warming his face.

“Oh, there’s definitely a story there,” Jack says, drinking him in. He feels a little intoxicated, and not from the alcohol. “Spill, Jacobs.”

“There’s not much to say,” Davey lies—so terribly that it’s obvious even without the tell-tale skip in his heartbeat. “The fact that you’re not groping me under the table or visibly drooling is already an excellent sign. If we actually make it to a bed without incident I’ll be thrilled. And even then, most of them usually can’t manage to… aren’t able to…”

He trails off, awkward, and all at once the heart of the problem becomes obvious.

“Oh,” Jack realizes. “They can’t keep up with you.”

Davey’s blush deepens, which is only more kindling for the fire.

“Of course they can’t,” Jack continues, shaking his head. “Eres guapísimo—it’s a miracle their damn brains didn’t melt out their ears.”

“It’s not funny, Davey protests, but it’s a halfhearted effort at best. “The last guy I tried to hookup with came in his pants in the back of an Uber—we didn’t even make it four blocks! I wasn’t even touching him. Then he didn’t understand why I was absolutely uninterested in doing anything except going home, alone. And then,” Davey leans closer, starting to gesture with his hands as talks, “he tracked me down on venmo a few days later and tried to stick me with his dry cleaning bill!”

Jack can’t help it: he barks out a laugh. “He didn’t!”

“Yes, he fucking did!” Davey insists. “And, honestly, I’m not sure if that even cracks the top ten of ‘David Jacobs’ Tragic Attempts at Romance’—“

“There’s worse?” Jack asks. “Christ, sweetheart, I’m startin’ ta feel like I should be properly wining and dining ya, help make up for some of the assholes.”

“You won’t be making up for anything if you don’t stop laughing at me,” Davey grumbles, but he’s not truly annoyed—there’s a playful spark behind his eyes, anticipation written into every line of his body. “Besides, who’s to say you won’t be more of the same?”

“Ain’t gonna happen,” Jack says, confident.

“Sounds like someone’s sure of themselves,” Davey muses, arching a brow.

“Sounds ta me like the bar ain’t that high,” Jack counters with a cheeky grin. “Don’t be an inconsiderate dickhead and don’t tap out pathetically early—shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“And you think you can handle it?”

“If there’s one thing a werewolf’s got in spades,” Jack purrs. “It’s stamina.”

Davey’s eyes go deliciously dark.

“You’re not cute,” he informs Jack pertly, and the challenge in his voice probably isn’t meant to be as enticing as it is. Probably.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jack says, and he lets his fangs drop as he leans forward, running his tongue over the razor sharp canines that peek out from underneath his smirk. “I’m fucking adorable.”

He doesn’t miss the way Davey’s eyes drop to his mouth, the way his throat bobs around a swallow. Jack just barely resists the urge to preen under his attention.

Without lifting his gaze, Davey says, in a voice that’s gone whiskey-smooth, “Shall we head out then?”

“Don’t’cha wanna finish your drink first?” Jack teases. “An’ I still got half a beer left.”

In answer, Davey tips his head back and downs the rest of his drink in one go, then he reaches over and plucks Jack’s beer out of his now slack grip and tosses that back too.

The empty glass lands against the bar top with a solid thunk but it’s barely a blip on Jack’s radar. Because Davey cups a hand around Jack’s jaw and draws him into a long, searing kiss. He tastes of hops and wolfsbane, cranberry and vodka, and something that must be uniquely Davey—warm and smokey and with a hint of bite.

Davey pulls away just enough for Jack to see the deep blue of his eyes, the thick canopy of his lashes. “And now?”

It takes Jack a second to find his voice, the keys in the ignition but the engine refusing to turn over. He rasps, “After you.”

….

“Wait, wait,” Davey pants against his mouth. He twists out of Jack’s arms, then darts around the corner into the kitchen. Befuddled and horny, Jack lumbers after him.

He finds him rummaging around in his fridge.

“Do you have a preference for Gatorade?” Davey asks. “I’ve got red and purple.”

“What?” Jack says, stupidly. “Uh, red, I guess.”

Davey hums in response. Under his breath he mutters to himself, “I’ll grab two, just to be safe.”

He nudges the refrigerator door closed with his hip, then turns and opens a cabinet. He pulls out a box of granola bars and grabs a handful.

“Dave, what are you doing?” Jack finally asks.

“Getting supplies,” Davey says, as though this should be obvious. “Can’t have you passing out on me.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Jack says, bemused, stepping closer. “‘M made of pretty stern stuff.”

“Oh, so lycanthropy protects you from low blood sugar, now, does it?” Davey asks, pinning him with a spectacularly bitchy look. God, Jack’s already so fucking stupid for this man, it’s embarrassing. “Keeps your electrolytes properly balanced? Wow, that must be one hell of a party trick—“

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Jack says, curling himself around Davey’s back, letting his hands settle low over his hips. “You’re the expert, I’ll let you handle it.”

“Did you already have dinner?” Davey wonders. “I should’ve asked earlier, while we were still at the bar… Do you want something to eat? I can get you something—“

“What I really want is to get back’ta kissing you,” Jack murmurs, pressing his lips to the hollow behind Davey’s ear; Davey goes gratifyingly still in his arms, his pulse fluttering delicately beneath his skin. “So, if I promise to let you know the moment I get thirsty and have a big breakfast in the mornin’, can we please move you and your Gatorade somewhere more comfortable?”

“…and the granola bars,” Davey bargains.

“And the granola bars,” Jack easily concedes. “I’ll even eat one right now if it’ll make you feel better.”

Davey chews at his lip, hesitating. “Would you?” he implores softly.

Jack’s never choked down a granola bar so fast in his life.

…..

“Jesus, sweetheart,” Jack murmurs, watching Davey’s wide-eyed expression as he bottoms out, a little overwhelmed at the absolute vision he makes splayed out against the sheets. “I didn’t realize how much ya needed it.”

Davey’s lips are red and kiss-swollen, his hands fisted into the bedding on either side of him, but he still manages to gasp out, his chest heaving, “You can still back out, if all this is too much for you.”

“‘S a little late for that, ain’t it?” Jack muses. He pulls out just a bit, then carefully thrusts back in, sinking even further into that exquisite heat. “I’m literally balls deep inside you.”

“Consent is a continuous contract,” Davey lectures, but his words are a breathless rasp, his voice threaded with aching, blatant desire. “It can be retracted or reassessed at any time—“

He breaks off with a gasp as Jack rolls his hips forward, nice and slow, then does it again, starting up a steady rhythm.

“Quierdo, unless you say otherwise, they’d have to drag me off of you by my hair,” Jack vows, not entirely sure if he’s exaggerating or not. There’s just something about Davey—the snark and sweetness and sin of him—that draws him in, beckons him closer, makes something deep inside of him pant and tremble and howl. “Is this good for you? Less or more or…?”

“More,” is Davey’s immediate response. “More, oh god, please more—“

Jack leans in and kisses him then, unable to resist, and Davey arches into him like he’s starving for it—Christ, he probably is.

#newsies #javid #*editor's note #*the writing desk #bits & bobs #tease series #hungry like the wolf #very very excited for this one #pretty sure this will also be another possessive Jack fic if you’re into that #it’s about the Vibes 🤌🏼

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hadesknockedupintheunderworld · 18 days

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One random funny shipping trope I like occasionally is when the same person ends up dating two members of the same family (either at the same time (dating the parent and their kid) or at different times (dating the parent/ancestor/elder and then dating the child/descendant/younger at a later date)

Some notable examples from my brain:

Urbosa x Botw Zelda's mother + Zelbosa

What can I say? I first saw the former on Twitter and loved the fanart/au ideas of this ship. Frankly, I like it on its own whether as an au where they got married/became partners, or even if it's a homoerotic friendship with unrequited feelings (on Urbosa's end at the very least).

As for the latter, it kind of just struck me when I first watched that memory in base botw where Urbosa is holding Zelda as she sleeps (tuckered out from surveying) and talks to Link about her. This scene really set Urbosa up as a comforting presence to Zelda, and the knowledge that Urbosa displays sets her up as someone just inherently close to her (or at least someone who has been watching her all this time)

Under the framework of this post though, I love to imagine that Urbosa either has/had a secret thing with Zelda's mother, watched over her diligently and tried to position herself as a helpful presence, and then once Zelda properly grew up and started to get older, feelings (on Zelda's side first) started to grow more uncertain. I'd like to think under this framework that once Zelda becomes an adult and comes to terms with these feelings, she becomes embarassed around Urbosa😂

Or, as someone I know once said "Don't you think it's funny? Urbosa had a thing with the mother and the daughter!"

I also can't help but think back to this post I saw on my for you page about how a "MILF" should specifically be a woman old enough to be your mother. So like. It's also funny to imagine like, a sweet childhood friends situation with past!Urbosa/Zelda's mom, but then Zelda being so down bad for a MILF with eventual Zelbosa

Botw Zelimpa + Zelpaya

Now, I've shipped Zelimpa in botw since Age of Calamity released. Real princess and her number one bodyguard kind of situation seemed to be going on there (for the record, I watched the trailer and played chapter 1 of that game). As for Paya/Zelda, I didn't really think much about it until I (1.) got into botw Zelimpa and (2.) went through Paya's diary in botw and it hit me that Paya could very plausibly be into both Zelda as well as Link.

Under the framework of this post, I really can't help but think of them like parallels to the movie Hook (Paralleling Peter/Wendy and Peter/Moira). In this case, it's funny to me to imagine Zelda having this deep bond and relationship between Impa during AoC era, and then 100 years later (post botw) when she finally meets Impa again, Impa introduces her to Paya. And while Zelda sort of slowly falls for Paya as they hang out and get to know each other and talk, the feelings hit Paya like cupid's arrow (I love you bi crisis Paya).

Nanago + Goyuu

This one sorta came about because (in addition to both of these ships) I like those aus where Nanami is Yuji's adoptive parent. And so it's funny to imagine a situation in which Nanago are exes and/or divorced, and then like years later Yuji and Gojo have one of those chance meeting x romcom romances where they both find out after the fact that Gojo was once with Nanami, but it ends up being Nanami who's the most annoyed and bothered about this situation in the end

Nanami really wishes his adoptive son would dump his ex's ass😂

Rigurd/Siguriddle + Hayariddle

This one's a bit different just because Hayato is Sigurd's reincarnation rather than Sigurd being Hayato's ancestor, but it’s close enough. And it's close enough because this is actually arguably pretty close to UR canon?😂

Like Riddle has an entire King and his most devoted servant/secretary thing going on. There is so much implying that Riddle was probably in love with him, if not that they actually were involved as a couple. And then after his lord (Sigurd) dies, he dutifully makes sure that his beloved's soul reincarnates properly. And then he watches over and protects Hayato (said reincarnation) as he grows up, sets his plans in motion and inserts himself into Hayato's life when Hayato turns 17, and then grows attached to him enough that when he finally ressurects his dear lord after centuries, he chooses his reincarnation over him. And if the ending of that manga tells me anything, it’s that Riddle really did get the King and his reincarnation 😂

Vintaker + R!Ciel/Undertaker

I haven't actually read far enough into BB to know a lot of details, but all I need to know is that the Undertaker may have been implied to be involved with generations of phantomhives, that he did canonically hang with Vincent, and that he's like the Sebastian to R!Ciel. Funny to imagine him involved with the father, and so too his precious dead heir that the undertaker went through the trouble of trying to bring back

Lansoni + King Sonic/Galahad

If you follow me you may have already seen me posting about them but regardless

Satbk is the only continuity where a version of Shadow (Lancelot in this case) is arguably Silver's (Galahad's) dad. I will be completely real with you it is so funny to imagine King Arthur "Sonic" Pendragon being involved in a relationship with two of his knights, both of which just so happen to be father and son. Shenanigans abound. It's funny to imagine

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sofiaaaa36 · 7 months

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promise me!🧡

(BACKSTORY/PT. 1)

summary: being one of the best hunters in nevarro's bounty guild, you reminisce about your heavily-adventurous, and boundless past on getting to where you are today. walking into work, you dont expect what your next commission is but, it involves an "old friend" or how your boss says it, "buddy".

warnings: f!reader, tiny swearing, a pinch of violence, FYI: this is just the start, also it won't be a full fanfic for each episode. i just wanna write it as it is in my brain. THATS ALL🫶🤭

nevarro was your home. even though the rocky and volcanic planet wasn't anything comfortable, you never had anywhere else to go.

when you were too young to remember, your father was a ruler of a mandalorian clan on one of the two moons of the planet mandalore. your guardians told you of how powerful your father was. apparently, your mother, surprisingly wasnt mandalorian. you were told that her lesson was that anybody could love anyone, no matter how different you are from them.

when the horrific purge started, it affected your home aswell. you would never forget the day you walked outside to see the streets filled with laying bodies, the sounds of the bright explosions echoing throughout the quiet city, and the smell of smoke surrounding you. it was tragic. at such a incredibly young age, you had lost your innocence.

you were told from your guardians, that your parent's last wish was for you to escape safely, and to become great just like them. survivors of the purge brought you to the far planet of nevarro. there, they granted your mother and father's wish. with their best efforts, they raised you to have traits like being intelligent, resourceful, and compassionate.

now being compassionate meant you cared for every little thing. you would fawn over any creature, big or small. you loved to see babies and toddlers. whenever you were around one, it would always stop crying or, it would look up at you in wonder. if you saw someone having a bad day, you felt that too. being able to read emotions came in handy, especially with your job right now.

your guardians also trained you in the way of weapons. from the long, harsh weeks of you getting knocked out during training in hand combat, to finally beating your "teacher" in a sparring match using a staff. talk about improvement!

as you were getting closer to the age of saying the mandalorian creed, you had mixed feelings about it. on one side, you felt pressure on having to wear the helmet since your family was mandalorian royalty. surely you'd carry on the tradition.. right? not really.. another side of you didn't want to put it on. the fact that the armor would have to stay on for the rest of your life scared you. the thought of not being able to eat or drink infront of anyone, not having your first "real" kiss, and not seeing the world in all of its true features made you uncertain about this whole thing. also even more reasons like, not showing your real emotions to the world, not being able to show your face for long amounts of time to your own future children and husband, and to top it all off, you hated the feeling of being "trapped".

of course you talked to your guardians about this and they listened to everything you said. they gave you the most thoughtful answer stating that it was up to you, the creed was made for those who wanted to walk the way. and what they said lastly, really stood out to you. your mother's lesson: she wasnt mandalorian and she still married your father. you can be completely different than others, and still be a part of their lives.

you took their advice and never swore the creed. even-though there was always guilt and shame, you assured yourself with the thought of your mother.

getting to the age of independence, you joined the bounty guild. you definitely had what it takes, and you wanted those credits! the first day you got there, the stuffy cantina was filled with many people who seemed like they were judging you. they whispered to eachother nasty rumors on your abilities, and how you got here. it was an extremely miserable tough crowd..

lets just say you put a couple of those people in their place. just a few days after you joined the guild, you were just picking out one of the many bounty pucks. looking at the holograms, suddenly, you sensed someone was behind you. you were tapped on the shoulder by a twi'lek man, that looked like he had a little bit too much to drink, who was surrounded by an intimidating tall group of 4 others.

now facing you, the man started speaking, his words being slurred, "arent you.. wait a minute..! you're a pretty lady, why'd you be in this business? i think i know somethin' else you'd be good at.." he said smiling dumbly. "you girls always end up in here and we end up having to shoo you away.." "excuse me!?" you were completely shocked with your mouth wide open. "im capable of being a hunter, thank you, and no, im not gonna' sell my body!" you replied defensive, and still a little taken back from his comments. you then decided that you didn't want to deal with his drunken behavior. so, you quickly moved back. unexpectedly, you felt a hand tightening its grip around your arm. one of the man's friends in his group was holding onto you. the tall man, surpise-surprise, was also drunk. he had a certain accent and started to announce to his friends, "ha! this one's feisty, aint she!? sorry sweetie, its not too common for a lady like you to come n' this guild and think she rules the place. its not gonna happen' again, so why dont we take you back outside ay?"

a slight panic and confusion filled you, who the hell did they think they were?!before he could finish what he was saying, you pushed the mans arm to where it could be fractured. yelling, the man rapidly held onto his broken arm.

the group stopped laughing and all of them came running to you. ducking, and blocking, you managed to not get hit by their horrible aim. you punched one of them in the nose, another guy grabbed the collar of your shirt to which you grabbed his hands, pushed them down, and kneed him in his lower torso. one by one you knocked them all out. slight blood was showing on your knuckles where you punched one of them in the nose. with all of them down, you quickly fixed the messy strands of hair on your face while going back to pick up the bounty puck.

after collecting yourself from what just happened, you carefully walked over and around the men dizzily getting up. as you were walking out, you noticed eyes beaming on you. anxiety was forming as you passed through the cantina with everyone staring. it felt like all the noise was becoming inaudible and you felt like you were being pressured underneath water.

right as you were about to walk outside, you passed someone just a little bit taller then you, in a gray, shiny, mandalorian helmet with beat-down armour.

his modulated voice sounded young, he probably was around your age, about 17 or 18. "hey, nice fighting.." he said to you while nodding his head up. still extremely embarrassed and now flustered, you responded with a quiet, "oh! thanks.." you gave him a slight smile and walked outside. thank the maker that was over. you decided to not think about what just happened and decided to focus on the outside. the ashy smell of outdoors, and the sandy, beige buildings clustering eachother, welcomed you back. you could finally breathe.

that was years ago. soon after that happened, you proved with several tasks that you were one of the guild's most respected hunters along with some others, including mando, the same person who complimented you a long time ago.

even though you and mando never talked after that, you guys sure as hell respected each other. almost enough to work together..

it was a regular day. before walking into the guild, you wanted to take another route. it was a more beautiful day than usual, the sky was a sunny, beautiful blue instead of the normal gloomy, cloudy, gray sky. you even felt a warm breeze passing by you. you felt the sun beaming on your freckled face!

walking through the heavily-populated bazaar, you saw all of the many orange, red, and yellow spices displayed on the shaded stands. many native fruits hanged on strings above you. upon walking some more, you spotted a stand with many different colored bandanas and cloths.

the lady selling them asked you, smiling, "would you be interested in buying any? they're great for the riding through the desert! or you could buy the cloths to clean or polish that blaster of yours!" you looked down on your slightly stained gun, and you decided you should probably take some. you responded politely, "sure, i'll take two. a long cloth, and just a regular one. "any particular color?" "i'm fine with anything." "alright then, that'll be ten credits!" you took out your tiny black pouch and passed her the credits. she passes you the cloths. "have a great day." "thanks! you too."

you look at the cloths. she gave you a normal sized orange one, and a small blanket-like teal-green cloth. you look down on them, you would definitely put these to good use.

now as you were getting closer to the guild, all of the buildings surrounding you became more wore down, abandoned, and empty.

you went inside the dimly lit bar, and there was an extreme change in lighting. walking around, karga suddenly approached you seeming in a hurry. his face seemed urgent. also he rarely talks to you, whats going on?

"y/l/n! i need to talk to you. come on!" he whispered. he held your arm while guiding you to an empty table. "what happened?" "listen, i sent your buddy mando on a pretty difficult bounty." he paused to gather his words. "okay?.. congratulations?" "no! not congratulations! all the people i sent to that bounty havent came back. they've all died, and i can't afford letting our best hunter die too!" you stared at him blankly. "so.. you want me to make sure he doesnt get lost?" "y/n come on this is serious. just make sure he end up alive and gets the bounty. your the only one he likes around here, so im sure he'll accept your help." your eyes widened a bit and a flustered heat ran through you after he said you were the only he liked in the guild. was he trying to bribe you into doing this mission, or was he telling the truth? anyways, getting the thoughts out of your head, you responded, "okay, wait- what do i get out of this? whats my pay?" he pulls out a tracking device. "its my highest paying bounty, im sure you'll be fine splitting it up. besides, i'd say your doing pretty well in terms of money. you have the time." he says smugly. your pretty hesitant about this, you think about it for about a minute. "well i dont have all day!" he rushes you for an answer. "fine, i'll do it!" "alright. now theres no puck but all i can tell you from what i've heard is that the bounty is on the planet arvala-7, and it's fifty years old." he slides you the tracking fob across the smooth table. "you'll use this to track it. do not tell a soul about this. now, im sure you'll catch mando quickly, its a small planet. just work with him, bring back the bounty together, and then you go separate ways. got it?" he pulls out his hand to shake yours. you said smiling, "dont worry, i'll get him back." you shake his hand back.

now getting up to leave for your new mission, you picked up the device and walked out. nervousness filled you. sure, the bounty would be difficult- but other questions popped up. like, would he be annoyed that you have to "forcefully" stay by him? would he be upset that he had to split the bounty with you even though it was his? but, somewhat on the bright-side, you had different thoughts like: could you talk to eachother about your mandalorian roots? what did mando's voice sound like now? how would he treat you since you were his "favorite"? wait those last two ones are a little bit off... you get the point though! you were scared shitless on your partner, and not the mission?!

uh.. anyways! getting back to your place, you were packing your things and bringing it to your one seated starfighter left in an open space. it may not be the best ship, but it got you to point a, to point b. it still held a special place in your heart. why? because it was the first ship you bought with your own earned credits.

with everything settled and strapped in, you got inside the seat and closed the hardtop of the ship. turning on the starfighter, you pressed in the coordinates for the supposed planet where the bounty was.

pulling on the control lever, you were getting higher and higher off the ground. once the coast was clear, you tugged hard on the lever to make it to the further to the atmosphere. finding a way to make it hyperspace, you switched on more controls. then, you pulled up on another lever, forcing you down on your seat. it took you to an abyss of swirling clouds made up of all shades of blue.

whenever you went to hyperspace, you always thought that this part was the "calm before the storm" but now you werent so sure about it!

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lucivinyl · 2 years

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seasons may change, winter to spring

pairing : thoma x gn!reader

Thoma can’t recall a day where he doesn’t reminisce about Mondstadt at least once.

There are many things about his homeland that he misses: the wine (of course), the folk songs played on lyres, and the breeze that stretches across the entire nation. Sure, Inazuma has its perks, but a part of Thoma’s heart is always tethered to the city of freedom. More often, he finds himself wondering about the people. Is his mother doing well? Do his friends still remember him? Is the Windblume festival still celebrated?

And sometimes, more reluctantly, his mind wanders to the most tender part of his memories— you.

—

Within the first week of the abolishment of the Sakoku Decree, Ayato approaches Thoma with a suggestion.

“Do you wish to return to Mondstadt?”

Thoma’s mouth hangs open, flabbergasted by the question. As a matter of fact, he hasn’t asked himself something like that in years. Chalk it up to the fear of rejection and disappointment.

Of course he wants to go back, but it’s not like him to just turn his back on the people that have provided him with shelter. That would be against his sense of loyalty, which he plans to uphold until his very last breath.

In the end, he decides to pay the city a visit. His stay won’t be permanent, he’ll still come back to Inazuma, but at least he gets to take a look at the city that he longs for.

Boarding one of Kamisato’s fancy ships, he drifts northward, in the direction of home.

—

During his time away, Thoma has written four thick stacks of letters. They sit in a large sack next to his other luggage.

Most of them are addressed to his mother, and a good few to his old buddies. As for the remaining, they are to you.

He plans to give them all to their rightful recipients. His mother is guaranteed to appreciate them, but it’s your reaction that he’s most uncertain about. If you squint just a little, you’ll notice the hints of desperation that seeps through his words when he gets more homesick than usual, how his affection never faltered in all those years.

He pictures your smile as you read them (he’s unsure if his imagination is accurate; your features have probably changed a lot). Perhaps it’s full of adoration and unspoken love. Perhaps it’s full of pity or regrets for what could’ve been.

Looking out at the glistening sea, queasiness troubles his stomach. Being aware that you could’ve moved on and forgotten about him is one thing, accepting it is another. Brimming beneath his facade is the fear that the hurt will show when- if you really have no care for him anymore.

He would rather you be furious and mad at him for leaving than be totally unbothered. Indifference is the real salt to the wound.

A sailor knocks on his door, informing him of the close arrival at Mondstadt. He manages a terse response before packing up.

—

Mondstadt is as he remembers— wind that carries fragrances, windmills that stand tall and are visible from hills away, unblemished plains and water that meets the sky, forming a picture of pastoral tranquility.

He makes a stop at his home first. The shock in his mother’s eyes is as large as the sun as she takes him in. The basket of carrots drops from her hand as she rushes to pull him into a tight embrace. She still smells like lilies and home.

“Oh, look at you.” She sandwiches his face with her hands. Thoma notes that they’ve become more calloused and wrinkled. “You’ve grown so much. Has Inazuma treated you well, dear?”

“It has, mum.” He touches her hands tenderly, wetness filling his eyes. “I met some really good friends too. I can’t wait to tell you all about them.”

“That’s good to know.” She laughs as he sniffles. Even when he’s already so much taller than her, he still looks like a little kid in her eyes. “Come on, I’ll whip up something for you. Hash browns?”

He beams. “That’d be perfect.”

—

Thoma stays in the village for a few days, catching up with the neighbors and the uncles that watched him grow up. They keep asking him about his journey in Inazuma, and he patiently repeats his story to them.

On the fourth day, he hands the letters to his mother, and watches as she reads through each and every one of them. Written between the lines are struggles that he has overcome by himself, ups and turns in his everyday life, and childish musings that only a mother gets to know. She is proud of the courage he possesses, but there is also melancholy in knowing that he was once alone and lost, that she couldn’t help him in any way.

“Who are those for?” She points at the other stack of letters, still tied and untouched.

“Oh,” He wipes his eyes dry with the back of his hand. “They are…uh… for a friend.”

“A friend?” She gives him a knowing look.

He chuckles. “Come on, mum.”

“When do you plan on finding them?”

“Later, maybe. I have no idea where they are though.”

“You know, if you were to ask around in the city, someone is bound to give you an answer.” She squeezes his plump cheek in a doting manner. “The question is, are you just too afraid to find out?”

“I’m not afraid…”

“You don’t think I can see through you?” She raises a brow.

Thoma remains silent. He knows that, even in this very second, his thoughts are being studied.

“Just go out there and find them, honey. Why should you wait any longer?”

The answer hangs in the air, muted and heavy.

—

Thoma once told his mother that he could still navigate the city with his eyes shut. He was wrong.

To be fair, he still remembers where the turns are and where the stairs are situated, but there is now a girl selling flowers and stalls lining up along the side of the cobblestone road. He’s probably going to crash into them walking blind.

Other than that, the buildings are also different from what he remembers. The shop that once sold toys has been turned into a tavern. The bookshop downtown is now a jewelry shop. That building right there was once blue instead of beige. The changes may be subtle, but together they already form a totally different city.

He finds Wagner by the city gate, working away with a hammer. He seems to have gotten more muscular.

“What do you need?” The blacksmith grunts, not sparing him a glance.

“Oh, um…” Thoma bows his head, trying to enter Wagner’s line of vision. “Do you remember me?”

Brows furrowed, Wagner looks up and stares at the blonde boy. After a stern second, his face eases up. “Thomas?”

“Thoma,” he laughs. “Close enough.”

“That’s a face I haven’t seen in years. I heard you went to Inazuma and never came back.”

“Yea, my boat got overturned in the storm and I got washed up on shore with absolutely nothing in my pocket. I was only able to come back because the Sakoku Decree has been lifted.”

“Sounds rough. Good to see that you’re still doing well.” He gives Thoma a pointed scan from head to toe.

“So do you,” after an awkward beat, Thoma shakes his head and asks the question. Your name slipped out of his mouth like spring.

“Of course they’re still around,” his heart leaps with hope. “They opened a bakery a few blocks away. See if you can catch them there.”

Briefly thanking the blacksmith, Thoma all but races down the street, the bag of letters bouncing off his back. Finally, he comes to a stop in front of a wooden shop sign, with different types of pastries listed out in your familiar handwriting.

As for the shop itself, it’s closed for the day.

Heaving a sigh, Thoma kneels down and traces his finger down the board, smudging the edges of your writing. There’s a devilish voice in his mind that’s telling him it’s a sign from above advising him to turn around and go back home.

But then there’s also hope shimmering in his chest. Knowing that you’re still in Mondstadt, touching the marks you have left behind, it fueled him with an even stronger sense of longing.

Straightening himself again, there’s one other place he can go to.

—

“My dad says you’re a bit of an airhead.” You blurted out, grimacing as you watched Thoma take in the information.

Waves lapped at his feet and ebbed away. Looking out, there was nothing but the endless expanse of the jade-colored sea. Afternoons out here at the Falcon Coast were his favorite pastimes, even more so when you’re accompanying him.

“What?” He said, caught off-guard. “Do you think I’m an airhead?”

You gave it some thought. “No. I think you’re a gentle person.”

“I see.” A pause. “If your dad dislikes me, does it mean I cannot hang out with you anymore?”

“I don’t think he dislikes you, he’s just… not very happy with you. Anyway, who cares about what he says? I’m gonna hang out with you until the end of time.”

“Thank archons.” A stone seemed to be lifted off his chest. “Till the end of time… does that mean we are going to grow up together?”

“Of course.”

“What do you think we’ll look like when we grow up?”

“Mm… I think you’ll become a lot taller than me, and a lot more handsome. You’ll keep your hair long and tie it into a ponytail. And when you’re old enough, you’re going to become a knight—“

“I can’t imagine myself as a knight.”

“What do you want to be then?”

“I…” no words came out. He realized that he didn’t have a particular ambition. Until now, all he’d ever wanted was for everyone around to live happily and harmoniously. It didn’t matter what occupation he took up as long as he lived a peaceful life.

“Let’s just assume you’re going to be a knight, ‘kay?” You continued. “As for me, I’m going to open a bakery, just like my dad, and every day we’ll come here to look at the sea while you eat the leftover pastries.”

“Sounds sweet.”

“Uh-huh. And when the sun sets, we’ll go home together and cook dinner. Maybe feed our dogs. Or cats. Or both. Which one do you prefer?”

He’s still a bit hung up on the part where you would go home together. “When you said ‘together’, did you mean we were going to live under the same roof?”

“Obviously! How else are we supposed to stay with each other till the end of time-- oh, archons, we would have to get married, wouldn't we?”

“I—"

“We’d better start planning our wedding now!”

Thoma doubled over as laughter escaped him.

“What are you laughing at?” You pushed his arm accusingly.

“No-nothing. Carry on.” He recomposed himself. He didn’t have the heart to burst your fanciful bubble.

As you expanded your fairytale, he interrupted you at times to give his input. Time flew past, and soon the sky was covered by the veil of dusk. All the talking finally caught up to you, rendering you silent as you watched the scenery.

With a futile tremble, the sun descended entirely into the sea. You’d better leave before it got too late (and before your dad adds ‘bad influence’ to his list).

Yet the moment he faced you, words died on his tongue. It was like the sun was in his eyes. Painted across your face was serenity; your drooping eyes, curved smile and hair in the wind.

It was then that Thoma realized this: whenever he thought about the future, you were always in it.

Thoma regrets not having left home earlier, because it was already late evening when he arrived at Falcon Coast. But it’s not enough to slow him down, not when he can already smell the salty water in the air.

His surroundings rush behind him as he paces toward the edge of the cliff. The sight is one that makes his stomach drop— what used to be a wide beach has been flooded by the high tides, to a point where only a few sandy islands remain. Desperate eyes rake over every corner they could reach, until they land on a lone figure, perched on a jagged rock.

He cringes at the way his voice croaks as he calls out your name, but no matter. The figure shifts, as if turning toward his voice. Despite not being able to see clearly who it is, he inspects the height of the cliff, takes a swollen breath, and jumps.

Regaining his balance, he dashes across shallow water. His heart drums along with his heavy pants as your features sharpen. Doesn’t matter how much time has passed, he’s sure he can infallibly recognize you in a crowd of thousands, especially with a sunset as the backdrop.

“Thoma?” The wind carries your voice to him, crystal clear, unlike the many times he’s heard it in his dreams.

“Thoma!” You mirror his haste, running down the rock with such speed that he worries about your safety.

The shorter the distance between you, the quicker his steps become. Soon he feels like he’s being moved by the wind, gliding through time and space, until he collides with your body with his breath choked out of him. His arms find purchase around your waist.

“Is this a dream? Is this really you?” You manage to ask as he twirls you around.

“It’s me, I promise.” He nods, smile buried in your clothes. “It’s me.”

As he pulls away to take a good look at you, his heart swirls with fondness.

You look just as radiant as the setting sun years ago.

#genshin x reader #thoma x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact thoma #elfwrites

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beloved-femboyish-girl · 4 months

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i've started to go through Serial Experiments Lain. due to the type of show it is, i've decided to collect my thoughts on each episode here, tagged as #Serious Experience Lain; in these posts, you'll find part impression, part reflection, as well as review and speculation.

that said: Layer 01: Weird.

Serial Experiments Lain is utterly oppressive. did it even have music? mostly (60 Hz) mains hum; every scene and presentation is unapologetic and delirious. and, as such, i took it as a mood piece at first. the plot takes its time, so everything lingers, suffused with unreal imagery for Lain's severely dissociative world, and cast in harsh concrete scene when we step outside it.

in this, the show seems to bounce between cold passive observation (third person) and lain's perspective (first person?). they're different, certainly, but both present: the first train scene where Lain's cacophonous cabin gives way to silent, confused passengers when she speaks up shows this. in third person, the show is willing to let cruel reality stand, like when nobody responds at the dinner table, or her dad is too caught up with his computers to truly talk to her (more on that later). in lain's world, the vivid underbelly of the world bursts in bloody tragedy and uncertain miasma. this isn't to say there isn't interplay or ambiguity, of course, because we follow lain, both object and subject.

curiously, though, we don't really get a grasp on her. sure, we share her confusing world, but what the fuck is she thinking? is she even thinking? she glazes over and falters acting in the world, mostly. her emotions are not easily mapped to what she sees, either, unless those emotions are complete detachment from everything. the camera's almost antagonistic like this, taunting; look into her big, brown eyes. try to guess what's going on in there.

as such, with its impenetrability, i didn't even bother trying to analyze at first. truthfully it seems resistant to it even with dedicated effort. i don't think it's a mood piece, though; a few potent wells stick out for closer examination.

the first is, as covered earlier, gaze. i know something's gotta be here. why else include the train scene? but i need further data.

the second is the train crash scene. this is one of the purest views into lain's psyche we get. while it's unclear if the dripping blood was real, it's vital to contextualize post-crash as lain having suicide on the brain. it only happens after someone suggests the train might've hit someone, in fact. so the surreal, which first takes the form of detached jumps between scenes, becomes located and precipitates onto train tracks, lain observing someone (her classmate?) in mocking delight and terror and oblivion superimposed getting hit and killed by a rushing train as she cowers under the buffeting wind.

but it's not a call to oblivion. contextualize, too, with her question to the dead classmate email: why? why did you die?

the finale is in the conversations. while sluggishly responding to direct address or accosting by her classmates or teachers, her attempts at conversation are utterly discarded. first no response from her mother, then a conversation with a father who's too focused on his computer to treat lain seriously (the laugh! after lain says she wants a new PC to talk to a friend, her father laughs!! presumably at his fuckin computer, but the (un)intentional cruelty is let ring), and finally the email.

It's tempting to treat the email as a conversation, but it isn't. Lain wants it to be, treats it as one. But it doesn't actually respond. It wears the skin of a personal, intimate conversation with a friend or an acquaintance. Open with a direct address, follow with an anecdote of a time they shared, one which only requires an acknowledgement. Slip her name in. Here, here I am, I'm still alive in here! Trust me! But it can't answer why, why she died, and it doesn't care to. Lain takes the assertion that god is real as an answer to why she died, but this is no answer. It's dead, cold, prewritten. It talks past her, but Lain wants to grasp on... truly a tragic portent.

One small last detail, though. I think it's adorable and excellent framing to have Lain wait silent and still in her room propped up against the wall for her dad to get home. Just like her stuffed animals. Truly a great way to reflect the place she makes for herself.

#Serious Experience Lain

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indianaclems · 2 years

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Princet Long

Story :

Origins:

Long is the second child of Namaari and Raya, designed not magically assisted procreation. Long is 4 years apart from Nur. Indeed, Namaari Raya and dreamed to have a second child, and being a lesbian this method had to be considered. Namaari wanted to know the experience of pregnancy after several tests that the news broke, Namaari is sterile and can not bear children. Dragons have explained that their magic could warrior, but in this case Namaari was just biologically different from other women but I was not sick so there was nothing to guerrir and magic and was therefore powerless.

Raya saw her wife gradually become increasingly sad. It felt so nauseated that she went to see the guerrisseurs to know if she could bear a child. Once this has been verified, she asked if the magic dragons could help them have a child, which was confirmed, but it was a child that is born of a real desire to have one of true love. For the rest it was enough to see a filter before having intercourse. However it was a very uncertain magic. Namaari was astonished at the approach of Raya and wanted to be sure she wanted. They did not delay to get to work ... But the months passed and there was still no child. Namaari Raya and began to despair.

Raya a day learning to drive Nur Tuk tuk on the banks of Fang (Namaari without knowing of course). That's when they were attacked. Both are doing but not without difficulty and once the infirmary the guerrisseurs learned to Namaari that Raya and the baby were safe.

Namaari remained many months alongside Raya to be by her side during pregnancy. However, it did conduct an investigation to find those who attempted the life of her family. That's why a little over a month before the pregnancy reaches term Namaari not on a mission with the army to rid herself once and for all the threat, to finally live in peace. It leaves Atitāya look after her wife and daughter during her absence.

Its mission lasts longer than expected and is welcome by panicated Atitaya to announce that Raya is even now about to give birth.. She arrives for the birth of their child, dressed in army chief (see Drawing "Birth." Even exhausted raya notices the New scar on the Namaari's forehead and no shortage of the dispute because it was her promised to have "no scratches." ." During the first name is not requested midwives, Namaari look Raya, and remembers their passion for dragons is so important to her, the fact that he was born of the magic dragons, and it is natural that their son called Namaari Long (dragon) in the language of her wife.

Development

Long is very close to his sister, and two are genuine partners in crimes favorite past time is to give white hair to their mothers. However Nur although very protective of her, she does not hesitate to give corrections when it goes too far. Long love Heart and grandfather Benja, naturally gifted in combat, he prefers diplomacy and believes strongly in dreams Benja and his pacifism. With Raya and his grandfather is driven to become gardient of geme, and passed the test with flying colors. He participated in the expedition through the Kumandra Raya and love to travel and explore the land. If camping is not really his thing he loves walking to heel and make purchases. The bling is her thing. He is conscious of his appearance and likes festivals and large parties, it is very sociable. During his travels he met people who do wonder about his gender. It's to Nur that are coming out that non-binary. Nur was immediament support.

Long is also quite brave, but not as brave as them sister the whole time facing injustice they doesn't hesitate to show generous sweet and attentive and close to do battle with those who commit their insujtices.

Long is generous, kind and sociable sometimes a little naive, but very smart. However, they is dramatic when their appearance is upset. And often when Namaari argument sees that there's been nearly spent in makeup 100jades from heel. And it disaster if they sister has broken their fingernail, because they are people for at least 3 hours of manicures. Raya love ruffle their hair.

Growing up, their appearance Ephebe gives way to a more muscular person taking care of their body to seduce. Nur would not be surprised that Long drag a green plant or their own reflection in a fountain.

Their seductive side and playboy Namaari angry, and Nur is often there to get by.

Creation and inspiration.

After discovering the character of Mayaari by Karen_acobs which greatly inspired me to Nur, the character of Sirinan me strongly attracted to its potential, especially the dynamic duo with his sister. The idea to create and develop a non-binary character I liked a lot. While initially Sirinan was my inspiration in the writing skits involving helped me develop the character that moves away from my inspiration.

To draw young Long , I was partly inspired by Boun.

The drawing represents Long aged about 11-12 years and wears expensive clothes, in Heart colors such as a dark blue sampot and a turquoise belt sometimes mixing with modern Fang style. They wears many gold jewelry and precious stones. They has an earring in their right ear which recalls the symbol of Fang. They wears nail polish and mascarat as well as eyeliner.

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linneatanner · 5 months

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Will Bashor The Bastard Prince of Versailles #HistoricalFiction #Versailles #LGBTBooks #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub @WBashorAuthor @cathiedunn

FEATURED AUTHOR: WILL BASHOR I’m delighted to welcome Will Bashor as the featured author in The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour held between November 27th – 29th, 2023. Will Bashor is the author of the Historical LGBTQ Fiction / Historical Fiction, The Bastard Prince of Versailles: A Novel Inspired by True Events (The King’s Secret Children), independently published by the author on August 18, 2023 (338 pages). Below are highlights of The Bastard Prince of Versailles, Will Bashor's author bio, and an excerpt from his book. Tour Schedule Page: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/11/blog-tour-the-bastard-prince-of-versailles-by-will-bashor.html HIGHLIGHTS: THE BASTARD PRINCE OF VERSAILLE: A Novel Inspired by True Events The Bastard Prince of Versailles: A Novel Inspired by True Events (The King’s Secret Children) By Will Bashor Blurb: A historical novel inspired by real events, The Bastard Prince of Versailles, narrates the escapades of a misborn "prince" during the reign of Louis XIV in seventeenth-century France. Louis de Bourbon wasn't a real prince-even though his father was King Louis XIV. The illegitimate son of the King and his mistress, Louise de La Vallière, young Louis has been kept far from the court's eyes until summoned to bid adieu to his mother. To atone for her adultery, she joins a convent, abandoning Louis to an uncertain future. When Louis is humiliated by his father for his role in a secret gay society, he struggles to redeem himself through heroism and self-sacrifice in the king's army on the battlefield. Praise for The Bastard Prince of Versailles: “Will Bashor effortlessly weaves together the threads of fact and fiction, transporting us back to the opulence and intrigue of 17th-century France. The author’s research and attention to detail are evident and well applied, never seeming like a dry history lesson but always a hook keeping you turning the pages. Louis is brought to life with such authenticity that you can't help but empathize with his journey. As he navigates the treacherous waters of courtly politics and yearns for his father's approval, you'll feel a gripping connection to his struggles and triumphs. The rest of the characters are well-crafted as well, each contributing to the rich tapestry of the story. If you are looking for a unique historical novel that will transport you to another time and leave a lasting impression, this book is an absolute must-read.” --International Review of Books Buy Links: Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/38YDXd Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Bastard-Prince-Versailles-Inspired-Events-ebook/dp/B0CGJ9B197 Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Bastard-Prince-Versailles-Inspired-Events-ebook/dp/B0CGJ9B197 Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Bastard-Prince-Versailles-Inspired-Events-ebook/dp/B0CGJ9B197 Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/Bastard-Prince-Versailles-Inspired-Events-ebook/dp/B0CGJ9B197 Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-bastard-prince-of-versailles-will-bashor/1143980077 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-bastard-prince-of-versailles AUTHOR BIO: WILL BASHOR From Columbus, Ohio, Will earned his Ph.D. from the American Graduate School of Paris. In his spare time, he reads memoirs and researches the lives of royals and their courtiers. He hopes to share his fascination with the Bourbon dynasty and its quirky inhabitants and, at the same time, weave the historical record with creative fiction. He has written articles for the Huffington Post, Age of Revolutions, BBC History Magazine, and Carine Roitfeld’s CR Fashion Book. Website: https://www.willbashor.com/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/WBashorAuthor Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/harold.bashor.3/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/will.bashor/ Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Will-Bashor/author/B006RKLIJY Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/list/6984989.Will_Bashor EXCERPT: THE BASTARD PRINCE OF VERSAILLE Louis was escorted into the room by two young princes, who showed him where to take his place behind them. One held his fingers to his lips, reminding Louis not to make a sound. After receiving the abbé’s blessing, the king rose to put on his socks and his morning robe. The valet removed his nightcap, and the barber combed his hair. He did not shave the king this morning because that only took place every other day. Now half-past eight, the grande levée began, and the king’s first valet of the wardrobe and his gentlemen-in-waiting entered the room. As court protocol required, Count Louis stood behind his cousins, the Princes of the Blood, during the ceremony. His eyes were still sleepy, but they opened widely when the king proceeded to sit on his chaise percée for his bodily needs—in front of all to see. Louis held his hand over his mouth to keep from giggling aloud but when one of the king’s valets cast a foreboding frown at him, he straightened up. Instagram Handle: @thecoffeepotbookclub Bluesky Handle: @cathiedunn.bsky.social Read the full article

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theladyismyshepard · 3 years

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I love your characterizations of the daughters and all of your imagines they are fantastic! i was wondering would it be okay to request an imagine where the reader says to the daughters like during an argument or something,“you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid!” and they all react to her in different ways? plz take ur time with the imagines and don’t feel pressured/rushed as ik writing should be something that is fun and not feel like a chore, thank you for all the content you have written so far :)

@frustratinglyinquisitive also maybe this could double as your #28 prompt? 🥺👉👈

Why Does Everyone Wanna Kiss Me So Bad?

The sunset was shining bright enough to sting and obscure eyesight, but that didn’t stop you from staring up into the pink and orange hues. Every time you blinked, the phantom flash of the sun still danced along your eyelids, leaving a glare across your vision. You weren’t even bothered by it, not when this numbness had clung itself to you, leaving you idle and just there. You flexed your fingers, and it rattled the chains locked around your wrists, bringing you back to where you were.

The boxed confinement you were trapped in felt more of a cage rather than the carriage bumping along the rocky trail that led you to your new prison — yes, Castle Dimitrescu sounded to be just another form of punishment, though you were uncertain as to why you were to be moved from Heisenberg’s watch to Lady Dimitrescu’s estate. You could hardly call it a step up from the twisted games he forced you to play within his factory.

You were sure you were on borrowed time and it was nearly time to collect, and you were certain that time had come when the four Lords surrounded you with Mother Miranda playing the head of the beast, leaving you cowering on the floor. The familiar iron hammer and the stench of billowing cigar smoke was on your right.

Standing next to him was quite possibly one of the ugliest... things you’d ever seen. A cloak hid a majority of his body, but you had the suspicion that the misshaped person next to Heisenberg wasn’t entirely human... you got that vibe from everyone in the room. Especially the weird doll that couldn’t seem to reign in its excitement as it bounced in the veiled woman’s lap seated next to Mother Miranda.

There was nothing human about the golden eyes that peered into yours from under the brim of a wide hat. They seemed calculating, curious, if not a tad bit confused as they surveyed your weak form. You looked away, unable to handle the weight of the woman’s gaze, and that was how you caught Mother Miranda’s bright eyes cutting into you from behind her bird-like mask.

“Oh, how I have been waiting to meet you, little one.” her voice demanded respect, but all you could do was gawk. “You are a stubborn thing, I’ve heard.”

Her gaze slowly crept over to Heisenberg as she said it, and you couldn’t help but feel a tremor of fright at his angered snarl, his arms crossed petulantly. It was true, you had endured many weeks at the hands of the leather-clad man, and while he did his worst, you refused to succumb to his torture, though for how much longer, you couldn’t say.

“I cannot fathom what keeps you here, but there is nothing special about the common human.” said Mother Miranda, and the mounting irritation was crystal clear. “You might have one looking like a dog chasing its own tail, but let us see how you fare in Castle Dimitrescu.”

You could immediately tell who dwelled there with the way the woman wearing white was smiling like the cat who ate the canary. She was completely predatory and was feeding off of Heisenberg’s disgrace and fury, and between the two, you weren’t sure who the best option was, not when her eyes turned to you and she looked like she knew exactly what she wanted to do with you.

“Do not worry, Mother Miranda,” the woman promised, already moving to stand, and the way she towered over you had your neck craned straight upward. “It’s been some time since my daughters had a plaything.”

That comment alone had the other occupants of the room guffawing and whistling. Everyone seemed to thoroughly enjoy the prospect of her daughters getting their hands on you, even Heisenberg had his eyebrows arched in surprise. Who the hell are these girls? Mother Miranda seemed to know and that was all that mattered.

“You are about to see what real monsters are.”

And that was how you found yourself roughly chained up inside the carriage that guided you to Castle Dimitrescu. You weren’t entirely sure why it was such a slap in the face to Heisenberg, but he seemed rather indignant as he loaded you up, spitting insults through the whole process.

You couldn’t say for sure how long you had been traveling, but it was enough to have all of your joints achey and your ass numb by the time it was all said and done. Hell, it was long enough to feel the temperature drop as you trekked back around the mountains that stood between the factory and the castle. Though that wasn’t to say that you were in any big rush to get there. In fact, your heart dropped when the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

Panic gripped at your heart, and it felt as though fingers squeezed tightly around it. It left you motionless where you sat, wide eyes glued to the door that you were shoved in through. You could hear Heisenberg muttering and rustling as he approached, but aside from that, you couldn’t hear the distinct clanking of his iron hammer. He had such little faith in your survival skills that he didn’t even bother with arming himself to release you. Not that he needed to... You’ve seen what he can become, and you’ve seen what he houses in his factory. He’d kill you dead in a few seconds flat if you tried anything.

But at this point, what did you have to lose? Mother Miranda made it very clear that you were to be eliminated at the hands of these daughters, so did it really matter if you died at the doorstep or in the dungeon? You might have accepted death, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t put up a last fight out of pure stubbornness. So that was how you had every intention of kicking forcefully at the door once it began creeping open to have him stumble back, possibly cracking him straight in the nose in the process, but that didn’t go as planned right off the bat.

Not when the door was nearly ripped right off the hinges in the haste to open, leaving you jarred, mouth hanging. The sunlight was now faded and replaced by the beams of the moon, but it was a bright night, leaving you capable of seeing that this was definitely not Heisenberg. And neither was she... or her. Uh oh.

“Mother! She’s here!” squealed the redheaded girl closest to you, clapping happily.

“Thank you for the gift, Mother,” said the brunette, her smirk not reaching her dead eyes.

“We will not disappoint you.” promised the blonde, her eyes observing your every move like a hawk.

“Have fun, daughters, but do remember that this one comes special from Mother Miranda, so do not forget to thank her.” their mother instructed, as if you weren’t there.

“Thank you, Mother Miranda,” all three said in unison before three different pairs of hands grabbed whichever part of you that they could.

Heisenberg clicked his tongue from where he leaned against the side of the carriage. He had an arm crossed while the other brought a cigar nestled between two fingers to his lips. You couldn’t read his eyes from behind his circular sunglasses, but you could read the entertainment in his toothy smile before he took a drag. When he blew it out into your direction, his satisfied grin spread again.

“Now, you have fun now, too, ya hear?” He mocked, chuckling as he turned on his heel, mounted the carriage, and prompted the horses to carry him off into the night.

“We’re gonna have lots of fun.” giggled the redhead, her smile the widest of the daughters as she tugged at your arm, dragging you along the pathway towards the castle.

“Not if I get to her first,” the brunette chimed in, her own grip on your other wrist tightening and pulling, almost like she was trying you get you away from the other.

“Who said either of you get the first turn?” the blonde interrupted, frown etched into her face as she tangled her fingers into the collar of your shirt.

“Enough,�� drawled Lady Dimitrescu, voice barely more than a bored mumble, but it still had the daughters zipping their lips. “Bela, you are the oldest, and less likely to break her before your other sisters get a turn, so you may have the first turn.”

The blonde grinned brightly while the other two scowled but saying nothing in front of their mother. Your eyes couldn’t decide where to stay as you glanced between all four women as they finally led you through the entrance of the castle. You noticed that the temperature didn’t really increase from taking shelter, the walls giving off their own chill to substitute for the lack of outside wind.

You didn’t even have time to marvel at the interior before Bela was tugging at you with renewed eagerness. You caught the slight growl from the brunette’s direction, but one glare from the Lady and it ceased. What the hell was really going on here? You never had time to process anything before sister after sister said something that left you reeling.

“Aww, her heart’s racing!” announced the redhead, her eyes wide and unblinking as they stared at your chest. “Please let me-”

“Daniela, no,” snapped Lady Dimitrescu sternly, her frown lines on display. “You will be last, and that’s that.”

Daniela’s face twitched in her attempt to bite her tongue to prevent her argument from bursting forth. It didn’t stop her from turning and giving the brunette a glare however. You gasped when her body dissolved into a swarm of bugs before your very eyes. They dispersed and flew this way and that, and you honestly don’t know why it still shocked you when the brunette followed the same exit style. A nose pressed against the side of your neck and you jolted so hard that you nearly broke free of the hand that was now caressing your shoulder.

“Such a jittery, little thing,” whispered Bela so quietly that her following inhale was louder. “Though I hardly smell the sweet scent of terror... Is this one broken, mother?”

You couldn’t help it, you had to chuckle at the complete honesty in Bela’s question. Your lack of fright baffled this girl almost as much as she baffled you altogether, and suddenly you were staring each other down. Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously as she cut her gaze up and down your body. Even Lady Dimitrescu arched a finely sculpted brow at you, seeming more interested now than she did among the other Lords.

“Mother Miranda assures there is nothing special about this one.” said Lady Dimitrescu.

“Why do you not fear me?” demanded Bela, almost sounding offended, her grip on your shoulder tightening. “Your heart is pounding but you aren’t oozing that smell that I like!”

“It’s kinda hard to fear death when you don’t even care about living anymore.” You deadpanned without much feeling, your eyes finding the ground more interesting. “Heisenberg rid me of everything that made me who I used to be.”

“And just who were you before my dear uncle dug his claws into you?” pressed Bela, and you refrained yourself from showing any outward reaction to their connection. You swallowed as you looked her dead in the eye now.

“Someone who would have the common sense to know just how dangerous you are.” You answered, and her brow furrowed.

“Who are you now?” She questioned quietly, her eyes softening a bit under the chandelier light. All you could do was shrug, you had no concrete answer for her, yet you knew you had to supply something.

“Someone who thinks that being abducted by three beautiful women isn’t exactly the worst case scenario,” you chuckled mirthlessly, the bitter smile on your face cutting into your cheeks almost painfully.

Bela stared at you almost dumbfounded before she had to look at her mother, almost as if to double check that she indeed heard correctly before she burst into a fit of giggles. Lady Dimitrescu didn’t even meet her eye, she was too busy staring into your soul. Only when your eyes fell to your feet did you hear her heels clicking away up the winding staircase.

“Remember what she’s here for, dear,” she drawled, never turning back, and leaving you alone with Bela.

“If you’re gonna kill me, just get it over with.” You spat, attempting to sound brave rather than defeated.

Bela’s smile was almost animalistic with the way blood smeared across her lips and stained her teeth, and you couldn’t help but to feel like the prey when she took slow, deliberate steps around you.

“Oh, no, where is the fun in that?” Bela countered, reaching out to graze over whatever part she could touch as she continued to stalk around you in circles, taking you all in. “You are my pet now.”

“I thought I was a plaything.” You couldn’t help but throw back into her face, and you were surprised when Bela merely cocked her head instead of getting angered by your outburst.

“Mother Miranda might not find anything special about you, but call me fascinated.” said Bela, stopping in front of you, her fingertips caressing your throat. “You belong to me now.”

“Us,” corrected a sudden voice behind you, and the haze that was settling over you in Bela’s presence was lifted when you jerked forward.

You tried to whirl around on your heel out of reflex to back away, but Bela’s fingers dipped from your throat to grip at the collar of your shirt to keep you still and facing her. You flinched away from the sudden hand that tangled in the bottom of your hair, pulling your head back until it was resting against a shoulder. Brown hair cascaded down into your eyes.

“Mother Miranda gave her to all of us.” corrected the brunette, the edge in her voice making it like steel.

“Cassandra’s right,” sang Daniela in a sing song voice, and it had a shiver running down your spine, which prompted a round of wild giggling. “Did you like that, pet?”

“If we’re being technical,” Bela piped up with an eye roll, trying to pull you closer and failing when both Daniela and Cassandra tightened their own grips on you. “Mother Miranda gave her to us to tear apart, so she wasn’t meant for anyone.”

“Buuuuuuut?” You interrupted, hoping to add a touch of humor to your case.

Daniela giggled and Bela shook her head in mild amusement, but you found that Cassandra was the more difficult one to crack. She didn’t offer a single facial expression as her eyes surveyed every inch of your body, and you couldn’t tell if she was appreciating the view or if she was sizing up which part of you she wanted to rip off and take for herself.

These three women spoke so callously and so nonchalant right in front of you. These three women were what Mother Miranda referred to as “monsters” compared to the actual beasts you had seen lurking within Heisenberg’s factory. These three women were spattered in blood that you somehow knew wasn’t theirs, and they wouldn’t stop touching you. Hm.

“Aren’t you funny,” Cassandra said nearly monotonous, but her smirk was on full display, and you cursed the light, fluttering feel of your chest.

“I try,” you whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would be taken as a threat to these crazed women, but you did look her in the eye to gauge her reaction.

“Can we keep this one, Bela, please?” whined Daniela, pouting at the blonde.

“I don’t think mother would allow it though.” Bela worried, finally releasing her hold on your shirt, and that had Cassandra and Daniela pulling you closer (and almost apart).

“She is ours to do as we please, we’d kill her if she tried anything.” snapped Cassandra, looking like the whole situation was stupid to her.

“Obviously she will not try to escape!” insisted Daniela, nodding her head furiously towards who you were guessing was the older sister, before turning to you. “Right?”

Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela were all looking at you expectantly, and you couldn’t help but feel warm under the spotlight. You could practically see the thoughts flicking through Bela’s calculating eyes. Cassandra was cool and reserved as her eyes gave nothing away, but her wicked smirk showed she wanted something from you, whatever that might be. Daniela’s eyes were intense as they bored into you, and her smile was almost unhinged, and honestly who were you to break it?

“I could never say no to three pretty girls.” You flirted, wagging your eyebrow to each sister, and the response was immediate.

Bela’s mouth parted in a silent gasp before she latched onto the front of your shirt again and started giggling. Cassandra looked entirely predatory now as her eyes flashed and her smirk showed all of her teeth, her own chuckles slipping out. Daniela, who was curled around your arm the whole time, had stars in her eyes at your answer and she smiled widely, throwing her own cackling into the mix, and suddenly it was a symphony.

“I want her first,” pleaded Daniela, eyes never leaving you.

“Mother said it’s my turn with the pet!” said Bela, tugging at you again.

“Why should we get her after she’s been used?” Cassandra argued, her arm now wrapped around you from behind.

“I won’t break her!” snapped Bela, her pulling useless when it was a deadlock between three pairs of hands.

“I don’t care!” cried Daniela, one arm curled around yours and her other hand reaching up to grab your opposite shoulder, locking you in. “I want her!”

You swallowed past your suddenly dry throat. The three sisters were not only talking about a possibility of keeping you around, but it sounded as though they were fighting over you. Your cheeks were aflame as you averted your eyes.

“Look who’s bashful all of a sudden,” jested Cassandra, both her hands falling to your hips. “Where’s all that talk now?”

“I can smell you blushing.” Daniela interjected, sniffing aloud and moaning. “You smell so good... we need to make you blush often.”

“Are we sure we can hide this from mother?” Bela asked one last time, almost like she was seeking permission from her younger sisters now. Daniela and Cassandra shrugged.

“We’ll just have to find out, now won’t we?” You pressed, looking to solidify your place among them... you’d take the position of “pet” over the one of “food” any day.

“Brave little thing,” Cassandra cooed, her fingers rubbing circles on your hips. “I need you with me.”

“Dammit I said it’s my turn!” snarled Bela, finally poking and prying at her sisters fingers locked around you.

“Just because you’re the oldest-!”

“You’re damn right I’m the oldest, and I-”

“You look so stupid,” spat Cassandra petulantly, having enough with going nowhere in the argument, and you could see that this was about to get old quick if you didn’t ease some of the tension.

“You all wanna kiss me so bad it makes you all look stupid.” You sucked your teeth between your lips when it grew deadly silent.

Bela had a crease between her brow as she stared at you in shock, uncertain if she heard you right. Cassandra was a blank slate as she absorbed you taking her insult and turning it back around on her as well. Daniela was wide eyed as she gaped at you for a full five seconds before she snorted and her megawatt smile lit up her entire face.

“I won’t let them get rid of you.” Daniela promised, and you couldn’t recall the last time that she blinked.

“Okay, okay,” sighed Bela, glaring at her sister. “We’re all going to keep her.”

“I hope I don’t break you.” chuckled Cassandra, and coupled with her breath so close to your ear, it had warmth flaring in the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t get bashful on me, now,” you smirked back, relishing in the giggles that surrounded you.

“Come along, plaything,” quipped Bela, winking at you as she dragged you along, the sisters following along with her this time. “We’ve got to show you your new home.”

Wild giggling echoed throughout the castle, and it was becoming your new favorite tune.

#bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #lady alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu's daughters #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu’s daughters x reader #alcina dimitrescu

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cherryjuicegf · 2 years

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yennefer and ciri or yennefer and jaskier, call me?

thanks so much for this prompt my dear!! here have some yen with toddler ciri, i cried while writing this :')) hope you enjoy!! 💜

wc: 546

prompt – call me

Yennefer stares sleepily as Ciri's shoulders rise and fall in peaceful breathing.

She dares not move on the bed beside her, not even to shift as her leg starts to go numb in the same position. Afraid that the slightest sound, the slightest breath louder than the others would wake her. And she needs to sleep peacefully for once.

A smile creeps upon her lips. Gods, she's so small.

And she's been through so much. She's barely five.

She tries to think about how she would be as a baby. So tiny, so vulnerable, she would definitely fit inside Geralt's palms. A silent snort escapes her. No doubt. Geralt's palms are huge.

She tries to think about how it would be to hold her then. Somehow, it doesn't feel right. The way she holds her now, the way her little arms fit around her neck when she hugs her, sometimes it doesn't feel real. But it feels right. The right time.

She has to make it right, she will burn everything to succeed if needed. Ciri didn't have much of a choice after all. It's on her now.

She wonders, will she ever love her as her mother did? She's not her mother. Not in that way, in the way that she feels the same blood flowing in her veins. She wants to laugh. When did she start believing in nonsense? Her own blood never did her good anyway.

Suddenly the girl's breath hitches, and she moans in her sleep. Yennefer feels her heart jump in her chest. Her hand hovers over Ciri's shaking shoulder, uncertain. Ciri moans again, a complaint, and then flinches and whimpers, and Yennefer wishes she didn't listen closer. Mommy, she is muttering, her voice weak like a baby songbird, mommy, mommy.

Yennefer feels a lump forming in her throat. It won't ever change. A child wants its mother.

Gently, she shakes Ciri's shoulder. "Ciri, wake up," she whispers, ever so faintly, and maybe she should have been used to the nightmares by now, maybe, but the way the girl's face twists with tears makes her heart weep. "Wake up, child, I'm here."

She doesn't know what the fact that she's here means. It has to mean something.

She shakes again, a little more firmly, and Ciri flinches and opens her welled eyes, looking up at her. Her eyes widen for a moment, then a thin whine escapes her lips and she jolts up, falling in Yennefer's arms. "Mommy, a dream..."

For the barest of seconds, for as long as she dares to go without hugging her back, Yennefer freezes. A child wants its mother.

Her.

Slowly, as though she will break the bubble of magic, she wraps her arms around Ciri's back and holds her tight as the girl sobs in her shoulder. "Shh, hush, dear," she whispers shakily and, on instinct, her voice finds a melody, an old lullaby she doesn't remember where she heard first. Silently, she sings.

Ciri slumps in her arms, her little body still shaking with some last sobs. Yennefer caresses her head as it rests on her shouder.

"Shh," she says again and when did she start crying? She leans her head on Ciri's, closing her eyes, and through her tears, she smiles. "Mommy is here."

#the witcher #yennefer of vengerberg #ciri #witcher family #chrysa writes #fic recs #prompt fill #drabble prompts #handwrittenhello #nightmares #cirilla fiona elen riannon #cirilla of vengerberg #god them......

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alyssadeliv · 3 years

Text

The Forgotten One

First Previous

Chapter 11

She always knew she had a Father. When she was younger she used to ask her mother about him. She mostly told her half-truths. She knew his real name, and about his nightly activities. About his time with the League, and how he adopted some orphans along the way. She heard all about him. From Mother, Grandfather, and sometimes other members passing by. From a young age, she had him pictured in her mind.

But now, sitting in front of him, in his office, she felt silly for ever trying to imagine what he would be like. He didn’t compare to whatever her young mind had conjured at the time. He was tall, and he had a face that she could only explain as enigmatic. He wore a mask, that she knew. After years of perfection one of her own, she could only imagine what he had been thought to dissociate himself from the people around him.

The office was simple, but at the same time imposing. It had a desk, behind it was her father paying attention to every word that came out of her mouth, with a large bookcase by her left. All the wood was dark, giving the room a more serious look. To her right, the wall was entirely covered with windows, with its drapes open showing the beautiful big garden outside the Manor. Behind her father, there is a painting hanging. A family portrait. She recognizes everyone in the painting with ease. Bruce is seated, with Damian in his lap, while Jason, Richard, and Timothy are standing behind Father’s chair. It’s an exquisite piece and even though they all are wearing suits, it makes the whole room look homey.

“Why didn’t you come here, after you healed from the attack?” They had been talking for the past hour. Marianne spent most of that time telling him the circumstances of her upbringing.

“I couldn't. My Master thought it would be better to stay longer.” She explains while playing nervously with the hem of the shirt Damian had lent her this morning. He could feel the anxiety coming out of her but was impressed that she kept herself strong and didn’t avoid eye contact. “So we continued with my training, but after some time we discovered a destructive energy that could only come from someone misusing a Miraculous. So it was decided that we would stay and assess the situation.”

“And this person was the fashion designer you killed this week? Gabriel Agreste?” He had a disapproving face, typical of parents disciplining their children.

“Damian made me aware of your no-kill policy, but since this was an Order business I believe you do not have the power to dictate how I dealt with it. I respect that this is your city, but believe or not I was lenient in his punishment. If it was up to me, death wouldn’t have been enough to compensate for all the pain he caused to the citizens of Paris, but I must allow the Gods to decide his punishment, so death it was.” Her speech allows him time to think about the situation. By the end of it he agreed, it wasn’t his business.

“What happened is in the past. I need to know if I can trust you not to endanger the people of Gotham. Who are you loyal to?”

“I am loyal to myself. And Damian. Trust has to be earned so it is okay that I do not have yours. But trust this: I love Damian, and would rather die than hurt him” Bruce analises her for some time, trying to find any hint of dishonesty on her, but just like his youngest when cornered, her emotions were transparent in her face.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that you remind me so much of… well your mother” He confessed with a nostalgic expression. “When she first brought Damian to live with me I was so shocked. I must admit that my reaction wasn’t the best. He was so grown, that it was hard to get to know him. With the others it was easier, they-”

“They weren’t your blood” She supplies. He looks a little relieved that she understood what he was trying to explain. “But you loved them all the same.”

“I did this once, it was a terrible job. Just know that I’ll be trying my best to- well, accommodate you into this family.”

“That’s all I ask for.” She replies with a small smile.

Marianne looked so much like his mother at a young age. He remembers spending hours looking through family album photos when he was younger. Sure he could see traces of Talia in her, but the blue eyes and black hair were definitely a Wayne trait. It scared him. Did he have any other children out there that he knew nothing about? He lost so many years from his children's lives, it pained him to think about what type of childhood they received. Sure, both Damian and Marianne didn’t hide their upbringing, but anyone could see that there were things they weren’t comfortable sharing. He knew from his own time at the League that it wasn’t easy.

“When did you meet Jason?” He had heard from Dick just this morning that apparently there was something that Jason hadn’t told them about his time in the League.

“Mother ordered me to train him after he was resurrected, because of my powers I was the best candidate to help him control the madness inside of him.” She explains, but Bruce could see the faint blush on her cheeks.

“And you two…” He trailed off, not knowing how to phrase his question.

“Yes. And please let’s leave it at that.” She’s blushing more than she ever did before. The fact she’s talking about her love life in front of her newly acquired father makes the whole situation hilarious, and if she wasn't so mortified she would have laughed.

“There is one more thing I would like to discuss with you” Marianne begins, uncertain of how the man in front of her would react to her request. “If it was alright with you, could I please have a hug?”

Whatever Bruce thought she was going to ask, it definitely wasn't this. So he stays there in shock, totally still for more time than he realizes. Enough for doubt to appear in the girl in front of him. His daughter. His blood daughter. He had some experience with Cassandra, but he still wasn’t sure he hadn’t totally fucked up with her yet, so this whole new daughter scene was hard on him.

Before she can flee the room in shame of her request, Father rises from his chair with grace, hiding his anxiety behind his perfected mask. In two strikes he is at her side.

The hug feels nice. Not that she would ever confess but the physical touch was something she always missed. The only person that had no trouble with being smothered with her love was Damian, and then later Jason. So, this hug from her father was definitely something she needed.

When they are done Bruce takes one more lounging look at her before dismissing her. He truly needed some time to think of all that had happened in the last few days. It had been almost 4 days since the reveal of the parentage of the girls, so he still had a lot to process.

So now sitting with a glass of bourbon in one hand, and his cellphone in the other. He did the only thing he could think of. He called Seline.

“Hey… It’s me.”

Hello again everyone! A special thank you to everyone that has been supporting this story! I wasn't sure if I indeed wanted to write a PART 2 to this story, but after all your comments I decided to do so. I hope you all like this chapter, it's shorter than usual, but I still need to figure some stuff about the story, so please bear with me! Let me know what yall think of it!

Taglist: @macncheesemonster @jumpingjoy82 @silversaphire12 @jinx-jade @swiftie-miraculer13 @greatcatblaze @megaafangirl @ramos123 @theamityislife @maskedpainter @toodaloo-kangaroo @nyx-in-line @ketchupqueenboiiii @blackroserelina @lozzybowe @user00000003 @kashlyn @msshadows97 @ira-sairain @stackofrandomstuff @myazael @frieddonutsweets @asrainterstellar @our-preciousss @laurcad123 @nyaabinch @rverfades @thefangirlwholiterallydies @astoriaandromeda @unnamed2357 @little-lady-bird @imdaqueenie @meismu @dorkus-minimus @a4-machete @arty-shadow-morningstar @catthhay @sizzling-fairy-oil @poodapup @charme-de-malchan @jayjayspixiepop @fusser90 @adrestar @iloontjeboontje @buginetye @macncheesemonster @messymessyml @redbullgivescaswings @queer-illusion @moonlightstar64 @kking13 @lupagrimm @dorkus-minimus @roguishredaxion @meow-6296 @galla02006 @samiamack @readingalldaysleepingallnight @twsssmlmaa @ihatecomingupwithusernameswtf @alexizlazy @lady-bee-fechin @mizzy-pop @alcoholic-barney @ladyqnoirr @wingl3ss @vroomtaka

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papers4me · 3 years

Text

Fruits Basket Manga Review ch (76 & 77)

So, I decided to read the manga mainly in search for a more natural balanced female presentation than the idealistic, shallower, savior depiction of tohru in the anime.

I’m intentionally skipping all the chapters of her as a (mother figure) in yuki’s life & won’t read them or even visit them for comparison with the anime. I love yuki’s growth story & the unique depiction of his platonic relationship with tohru, but if his mother-tohru phase was a drink, then the anime has force fed it to me till it came from my nose! So, for yuki, I’ll be reading his growth past-his mother confession.

I’ve consulted my lovely manga readers friends & thy recommended starting from ch 90 since the content in that chapter was completely cut! but some recommended checking kyoto chapters first since they contain a nice glimpse of the author’s style & artistic vision. Kyoto ep in the anime isn’t focused on “mom-tohru” so, i like the idea! I’ll jump to ch 90 right after ch 77.

- Subtle growth of a woman ( Clash of visions & presentation between the manga’s “ Loosing the wallet with mom’s photo vs the anime’s fractured photo frame):

I really love the underlined connotation of tohru loosing her “mom” unknowingly! In the anime, this scene played without any reference to kyoko & tohru’s attachment to her. We saw tohru the teenage girl confused as she experience romantic love for the first time. Nothing more than that. But the manga says “ Main female MC is way deeper than a (mom-figure) or a (girl in love), In this panel, tohru chases after kyo & unknowingly looses her famous wallet containing her mom’s picture. Here’s what this subtly indicates:

Normally, tohru would notice right away that her wallet is missing, here she never even notice until kyo suggest they hang out together. Subtly indicating that tohru is moving further & further from her phase of “ an afraid, grieving, abandoned child clinging to her mom”.

Normally, tohru would panic, say “ mom is missing” & everyone around her goes into search mode to make tohru at ease (hiro’s ep). Here once she notices, she says “ my wallet is missing” & kyo relaxed & laughingly gives her her wallet back. While he goes to bring the wallet, tohru instead of thinking “ oh nearly lost mom!” is musing over the fact that “it’s strange that kyo can make me happy or sad with one word only”. Subtly indicating that tohru is replacing her mom with kyo as part of growing up from the child she was to the woman she will be.

Tohru calling kyo “mysterious”, subtly explains that tohru is in the uncertain phase of understanding her feelings as a woman & hence, pave the path for upcoming trauma exploration & psychological depth.

The entire scene in the manga is depicted to convey different layers: romance, upcoming growth, & unexplored traumatic issues of abandonment, grief, & human weakness. “ Accepting human Weakness & change” IS the manga’s vision.

In the anime, the fractured picture worked simply becuz no issues of any traumatic experiences with tohru were ever hinted. Nothing abt tohru being a young woman moving away from a traumatic childhood was ever implied beside the weakly sharply cut & forgotten few scenes of her mysteriously going “ im okay” while remembering her dad’s shrine. Was there ever anything abt replacing her mom with kyo? Nope!. Was there anything abt tohru reluctance of loving kyo? Nope! to fix that, let’s shock the audience with empty photo frame! It’ll make the viewers confused & if we play the climax right & give tohru a tearjerker speech confronting akito, all is good. It worked in the anime as it served the purpose it was created for: shock value & drama. ppl bought it. But in the long run, it cemented tohru as the “savior angel” never the “ weak human”. But not many will have issues with that. Having yuki with his impressive story of growth & kyo with his shocking story of pain is enough to distract from the rest. The director must think: What does the audience want?

a woman who’d save the prince with her motherly care?“ Done!”.

a woman who’d love the monster? “ Done !”.

a woman who has her own deep story? no one will miss that~ skip!

-Yuki’s next stage of growth: Friends:

I like how smoother the scene played here. Yes, yuki thinks back to his gratitude to tohru, but it plays subtly & more emphasis is on his friendship with kakeru. No added scene of him waving back to tohru after kakeru which brought the focus back to mom-tohru again. No. Here is way less shoved in your throat. Yuki says how he felt in the moment, moved on to the next stage, thought abt his life & choives, moved on to school. Clear lines that makes yuki more dynamic & way less “ living in his head” character.

Side Notes:

The manga’s art is pretty but expressive! I was afraid it’ll have that weird eyes bigger than the moon & too much sparkles & bubbles like the usual old shojo manga art!

Yuki is way more expressive than the anime & less pretty & sparkly! I welcome this with flowers & songs! lol.

Tohru has “low” pigtails instead of the child-like high pigtails! YES! it is crazy that this trivial change adds so much to tohru’s presentation to the viewers’ eyes. In real life no big deal but in an artistic medium such choices send subliminal messages to viewers minds, that’s why artists spend a lot of time choosing their characters default appearance. It means a lot for the character’s overall path & sends messages. High child-like pigtails: make her look like innocent & naive child since viewers usually associate such hair do with children & toddlers. Low pigtails: are cute girly style that we associate with teenagers & young adult women, it’s practical & cute.

Kyo’s looks as youthful & handsome as the anime but less angry, annoyed & more versatile in his expression! It always bothered me that the anime just go with kyo’s default frowned face, hands in pocket looks unless he should express a key emotion. Also, kyo without an undershirt in his uniform! interesting change from the anime.

I missed kyo’s two buddies! T_T. Why they weren’t in the anime’s finale.. could’ve at least put them in the underwhelming graduation ceremony ~

I really appreciate that yuki’s fanclub are one page, less annoying.

That awkward moment when a manga panel drawn by one person can depict a crowded city more than an anime with a huge team. Like the anime didn’t even need to zoom out for a huge wide shot that showcase its weakness in depicting a crowded city. If you can’t draw that, just zoom in to lessen the effect of emptiness. kyoto isn't a deserted area especially not during a school trip!

The teachers checking on the sneaking vs sleeping students scene is a welcoming sight! XDDD

Hana met kakeru before? saw him & tohru together? weird!!

Kakeru is more focused on tohru here.

I really love the photos taken for everybody. It indicates real good time! Hana eating, yuki around girls, arisa annoyed, kyo teased with playing card: did the play “rich man poor man” again? XD

I’m starting to love yuki more in the manga than the anime!

Kyo having short inner thought abt not being able to tell tohru a girl confessed to him & deciding to say “ none of ur business” is doing wonders to the scene!!! it makes him less mean to tohru & more balanced character. I mean I guessed so in the anime, but what could've prevented making the VA say this short line of inner thought?! Yuki’s VA says essays & essays in nearly every ep abt nearly every character?!.

I liked the way kyo held tohru’s hands when he turned to her, the way he held her hand in the anime is a bit weird. lol. Also, in this scene, tender gentle kyo is so well-done both in the anime & manga. The manga wins for the zoom in & focus on emotions, tho.

Next is chapter 90!

#Fruits Basket #fruits basket manga #reading paper #manga reviwes #ch 76 #ch 77 #Anime Only

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 2 years

Text

Ryuu

@azulaang-week-2021 Day 2: First Child

Azula is worried that her son doesn't love her. She doesn't want their relationship to be like the one that she has with her own mother.

Sometimes when he calls her mother she finds it unfathomable. She never found herself motherly. Even when she had looked in the mirror and saw pregnancy very plainly. Even when Aang held his hand against the bump. Even then it still didn’t quite connect. It, in fact, had been a turbulent time. For the better part of nine months she was absent, inhibiting her body but vacant all the same. She isn’t sure how Aang could be so patient with her.

Even when the baby was born she couldn’t seem to fathom that it was her own. That it is her own. Holding it in her arms didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel as though those were her arms. Or maybe it had felt like she was holding someone else’s baby. But he had her eyes.

He has her mannerisms too. Her stubbornness, her fierceness, her cunning, and her coldness. When the boy is angry he is a force. When he is angry he hates her with all of his soul. He is too much like her.

Too much for her comfort.

It is no wonder he talks mostly to his father. She bites the inside of her lip. She is once again watching from afar as Aang teaches him to airbend. Though he has that spark in his eyes, there is no fire in his belly. And so she can’t find means of bonding with him there either.

She supposes she had anticipated this from the moment her belly had begun to swell--that her baby would resent her just as she had resented her own mother. Ryuu leaps into the air with the largest grin on his face and a loud giggle. Aang claps at how fast the boy learns new katas.

Azula takes a deep breath and hastily retreats back into the palace.

She doesn’t understand. She has been preparing herself for this from the very start of her pregnancy. It shouldn’t hurt so much. She hadn’t particularly wanted a kid anyhow.

.oOo.

“Why don’t you go play with mother?” is always met with a fuss or tears or both. He hates her through and through and she is certain that he has only become more hateful since she started putting effort in.

“What did I do wrong, Avatar?” She mumbles. “I’m not like my father, am I?”

Aang shakes his head. “You’re nothing like him, Azula.”

“That’s just a lie.” She replies flatly.

Aang takes her into his arms. “You haven’t hurt Ryuu like your dad hurt you.”

“Then why does he hate me?”

“He doesn’t hate you, Azula. He just doesn’t know how to talk to you.” Aang rubs her back. “You want to teach him bending and history lessons. He just wants to play and talk about this bug that he ate.”

Azula crinkles her nose. “I can’t relate, I have never consumed insects for fun.”

Aang laughs. “Neither have I! You don’t have to eat bugs with him, you just have to let him think that you think eating bugs is the most fascinating thing in the world. Or just listen to him talk about saber tooth moose-lions, he loves those. He can tell you all about them.”

Azula furrows her brows. “But I already know all about them?”

“Pretend like you don’t.” He gives her a little nudge, “he’s playing with his stuffed moose-lion right now, ask him about it.”

At her hesitation he gives her another nudge. She stands up and makes her way towards Ryuu, stopping momentarily to give Aang an uncertain glance. “Just don’t talk about politics.” Aang advises.

Azula takes a deep breath, perhaps she should just let her son do all of the talking in that case. She finds herself standing before him. In her shadow he brings his play to an abrupt halt. Azula clears her throat. “What do you have there?”

“It’s a saber tooth moose-lion.” He doesn’t look up from the toy.

She kneels down. “Did Aang get that for you?”

“Dad buys all of my toys.”

Azula flinches, “I’m not sure what to get you.” She grits her teeth, she is supposed to be talking about moose-lions. Ryuu shrugs, he lifts the stuffed toy up and frowns at it as though her taking interest in it has poisoned its value. “Why do you like moose-lions?”

“Why don’t you like them?” Ryuu asks.

Azula shrugs. “I don’t not like them. I suppose I just don’t think much about moose-lions…” she trails off. “So you’ll just have to tell me about them.”

Aang gives her a thumbs up and Ryuu cautiously turns towards her. “Well there’s a lot to know about moose-lions! First of all, they eat meat and they hunt in the day time and mama moose-lions are really big, do you know how big they can get?”

“How big?”

He holds his arms out as wide as he can, “they can get as big as an army tank.” He pauses. “Sometimes they eat fish.”

.oOo.

Aang breathes a sigh of relief. It has been well over an hour since the discussion started and they are still talking, although he isn’t sure if Ryuu is still talking about moose-lions. Whatever they might be talking about, Aang is thrilled that the discussion has lasted this long and that the boy is beaming from ear to ear.

Eventually Ryuu climbs into Azula’s lap. The princess shoots him another uncertain glance before holding their son against her chest.

That night he is pleased to watch her tuck the boy into bed for a change.

And more pleased still to hear the boy ask for a bedtime story. Decidedly, this is the time to intervene lest Azula resort to a wartime story. He finds a spot on the bed next to Azula and rests his hand atop hers.

“How about a story about the Western Air Temple?” Aang offers, only for Ryuu to shake his head.

“I want a Fire Nation story.” He looks at Azula.

“What kind of Fire Nation story?” Azula asks.

He thinks for a moment. “Uuummmm, something about dragons!”

Azula clears her throat, “my cousin Lu Ten used to tell me dragon stories. I don’t remember them exactly…”

“Then make something up.” Ryuu snuggles against his pillow.

.oOo.

“You did great, Azula.” Aang assures her.

“I don’t know, it sure didn’t feel like I did.”

He presses a kiss to the back of her neck. “This is our first child, of course you aren’t going to know exactly what you’re doing. Zuko and Mai are still figuring things out with Izumi. You made him smile today.”

“Yes, today. What about tomorrow?”

“We’ll find out when tomorrow happens.” Aang gestures for her to lay down. He watches her attempt to make herself comfortable. He knows that she has a lot on her mind. A lot of hope and a lot of dread. He rubs little circles upon her back. “Trust me, he has a lot more lion-moose facts to give you. He’ll tell you about how school is going if you ask him. He’s already at the top of his classes.”

“Naturally. He is my son.” She mutters. “But that does please me to hear. He is a smart boy.”

“Tell him that.” Aang grins. “He loves compliments. Just tell him the things that you would have liked to hear when you were his age.”

He makes it sound so simple. Or maybe it is she that is over complicating things. She had, afterall gotten on quite well with Ryuu when they were talking about silly trivial things. Things that, in retrospect, a small child would enjoy discussing. “Do you think that he’ll like me better when he’s older?”

“I think that you’ll find more common ground.” Aang agrees. “But he already loves you Azula. He tells me that he’s sometimes worry that you don’t love him.” He pauses. “He’s only five. You have to tell him that you love him.”

Azula nods, she supposes that it would have helped to have heard her own mother say as much. “I can do that, Avatar.”

“Good. Tomorrow morning, you tell him that.” He kisses her on the nose. “And just so you know, I love you.”

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snowbellewells · 3 years

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Self-Promo Sunday: “Into the Unknown With You”

Another one shot from my assorted collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts” - this one playing with some of the ideas I would rather have seen in 6x10 and 6x11, it certainly diverges from canon at that point...

Summary: As Emma searches for a way back home from the Wish Realm, help comes from a surprisingly welcome source...

{One more Author’s Note: The “awfully big adventure” bit is a tiny nod to J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan.}

Can also be found on AO3 or ff.net

“Into the Unknown with You”

by: @snowbellewells

‘No, no, no!’ Emma’s mind reeled horrifically as she stared at the spot where only moments ago the portal had been whirling, her way home to her son and her pirate wide open. She wanted to scream; it couldn’t just be gone, and yet, a second too much hesitation, and the chance was lost. She looked to Regina anxiously, her fists clenched so tightly she felt the impressions her nails cut into her palms. It was all she could do not to rail at Regina, this whole twisted world, and her own bad luck.

‘What now?!?’ she wanted to demand, wanted to shake her former nemesis turned tentative friend, but one glimpse at the other woman’s stunned, disbelieving face staring across the shoreline at her presumed dead True Love, and Emma knew it would be a lost cause. Having stood beside a grave in grateful stupefaction at her own love’s miraculous return to life not so long ago, Emma couldn’t find the heart to remind Regina just yet that she had spent the last day preaching that none of their surroundings or those they encountered in the Wish Realm were real, and hurry her along. She too found herself blinking dazedly at this other – very convincing – version of Robin Hood for a few moments.

Even if her heart was still crying out for her home and her family, for Henry’s soft hair tickling her nose when she placed a kiss to the top of his head, and Killian’s arms enfolding her, she didn’t know where to go in this topsy-turvy version of the homeland she had never actually lived in, and so she had to wait – more impatiently by the minute – until one of these two, either queen or thief, snapped out of their spell and led the way…

As it turned out, Robin Hood was not the sort of outlaw who would truly do harm to two ladies passing through his territory. He wouldn’t have even made to steal their jewels and furs once the same trance that had overcome Regina seemed to strike him mute as well, but Regina offered him a pouch of coins that had been strapped to her waist and a ruby ring, pressing it into his calloused palm with a quirked smile and the assurance that “she insisted, she was much more partial to his cause than he knew”.

Emma wanted to snort at the ridiculous understatement those words were, and she only barely managed to hold back a roll of her eyes, which she sensed the thief saw but let slide with a conspiratorial wink.

Before she could make an argument for trying to catch up to Gold – or Rumplestiltskin here, she supposed – or ask where they were going to find another bean, it was evening, they were entering a forest in the gathering dark, and soon they had been welcomed to sit around a roaring fire with Robin’s motley crew, and even been offered the ale and venison passed around the circle as if they were part of the merry band.

“Now,” the archer began, seated beside Regina, his boy nodding drowsily on his lap. He looked around her to meet Emma’s gaze head on. “You must be thinking that I owe you an apology. Clearly you were about to leave this place, and because of me, you missed your ride.”

She tried to shrug it off nonchalantly, not wanting to get them kicked out in the cold, or to lay blame on him for something he couldn’t have known, but instead, to her own mortification, she felt hot tears stinging in the corners of her eyes. Though her sight grew glassy, Emma refused to let them fall. “So,” she tried for flippant, even if it fell horribly flat, “does that mean you know where we could get a replacement bean and want to help us get it?”

“Actually, Princess Emma,” Robin winked, a knowing sort of mischief in his eye, “I just might.”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

The following morning dawned misty and cool, but fair, and Robin greeted Emma at the simmering coals of the previous night’s campfire with a welcoming grin, Regina at his side on the stump they used for a seat, looking as soft and at ease as Emma had ever seen her, her head resting on his strong shoulder seemingly still half asleep. She and Regina had talked at length the night before, and at long last Emma had accepted that Henry’s adoptive mother wasn’t returning with her yet. “I know he isn’t the same Robin, that this whole place is built on a whim, but I’m not losing him again,” she had whispered vehemently. “There has to be another way to get back…one that he could take as well…if he wanted to…” The emotion welling in Regina’s dark eyes had been raw enough that Emma finally consented to go on without further fighting to change her mind, only giving a nod in affirmation when Regina had asked, “You’ll explain to Henry? Tell him I mean to return as soon as we both can?”

“Ready, your Highness?” the sandy-haired outlaw asked, breaking into Emma’s recent memories once more and looking down at her from where he now stood at the ready. “We should make the harbor by noon, if we set out now.”

“The harbor?” Emma asked breathlessly, dazed for a moment by what this could mean. Her heartbeat kicked up in both anticipation and dread. Surely he wasn’t here too…was he?

“Yes,” Robin answered her spoken question with an amiable nod as he kissed the back of Regina’s hand in farewell and turned to head off with Emma on his heels. “I happen to know a pirate with whom I sometimes trade my less than lawfully acquired goods. He might have just the sort of thing you need to return home…”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

The sound of gulls crying and wheeling overhead and the creak and groan of the wooden docks as they reached the edge of the shore town and neared the sparkling blue harbor was enough to take Emma’s breath away. Robin took a step forward to lead her down the docks, already offering to make introductions, but Emma stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

There before them, as recognizable as always, was the Jolly Roger, bobbing proudly at anchor. Though most might be intimidated by the sight, Emma drew in the first full breath she’d had since remembering herself in this strange realm – as if she had gotten her first real glimpse of home at last. He might still be the vengeful Captain Hook in this reality, but somehow she wasn’t afraid. He would never truly hurt her – and she only wanted to be at his side again without further delay.

Reassuring Robin that she could take it from there, Emma bid him goodbye. Though he looked uncertain, the archer took her at her word and left her with his best wishes. If she clutched his hand a moment longer and a bit tighter than would be normal and bid him be safe a little too fervently – well, she didn’t have to explain herself to anyone here…

At her first step onto the gangplank, a shudder of recognition ran through her, as if the vessel itself was welcoming her back aboard, shivers skittering along her spine. At first glance, the ship seemed deserted, her crew perhaps gathering supplies or unwinding at the nearest tavern, but the air around her wavered, charged suddenly, letting her know she was not alone. Emma felt even before she heard heavy footfalls on the planks or that deep, commanding voice at her back, asking who went there, that she had not gone undetected by the ship’s captain.

Turning, her eyes found him, hungrily drinking in the details; altered, but still without doubt the man she loved. The dark hair was windblown and unruly, practically begging for her fingers to delve into its soft abundance and brush the fringe back off his forehead. Though the strands might be shaggier and generously shot through with grey, it made him no less attractive to her starving eyes. In fact, she only wanted to stare at him all the more, to catalogue every difference, trace the deeper crow’s feet around his eyes and the added lines on his forehead. Those fathomless blue eyes were lined so liberally with the kohl she hadn’t seen him use for some time in their modern Storybrooke life that she almost wanted to chuckle at the effect until she registered the way the blue of his gaze also looked paler – as if washed out by too many tears shed alone and without comfort, or dulled by pain held back because he couldn’t afford to let it show.

Brandishing his moniker, and that dastardly, flirtatious mask he had long since let drop around her, to full effect, Captain Hook stepped well into her personal space. “And who might you be?” he questioned, breath warm on the shell of her ear as he leaned in, hook lifting the heavy rope of her golden braid and tucking it back over her shoulder. It was an achingly familiar gesture and he stood much too close for calm comfort, sending her pulse fluttering again, and yet no recognition lit his gaze as he studied her; the fond devotion she had come to rely on more than she could say was utterly absent, making her heart ache and crack in her chest.

“Princess Emma of Misthaven,” she answered as sturdily as she could, raising her chin and meeting his eye with as much confidence as she could muster. “I had hoped to speak to you on a delicate matter of some importance.”

“A delicate matter, is it?” he asked, his enunciation and the way his tongue caressed his words seductively had not been altered or diminished in the slightest, whatever else had changed. He stood back to his full height, fingers in his waistband, hips thrust forward and looking every bit as sinfully irresistible as he ever did, complete with that wide-open, chest-exposing red vest she had witnessed once in their trip to the past through Zelena’s portal. If she hadn’t known him so well, she might have been fooled by the bravado, but knowing his heart as only a True Love could, she saw the emptiness behind the lascivious look, the pain within the façade – the proper, honorable lieutenant he had been, hating the persona his course had forced him to adopt. Even as he ran his tongue across his lower lip, letting his eyes trace her curves from head to toe almost lewdly, she could see the regret clouding the pupils and the wistful longing – as if he could sense what might have been.

Unable to stop herself, Emma reached forward impulsively, grasping both his hook and hand tightly as she spoke, “Yes, very…but just maybe…I was meant to find you. Maybe you’re the only one who would believe me.”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

Another hour found them below deck in his cabin, seated at the scratched, weathered wooden table which had served him in his lonely meals for ages, Emma’s hand still clinging to his hook where it rested on his thigh, but the other reaching up tentatively to trace that faded scar she knew so well beneath his eye. Hook – though more and more her Killian with every passing moment – had scooted closer to her on the roughhewn bench, blinking in awe as she saw hope returning to his face. He appeared both afraid to believe her words, but also desperate for them to be true.

“So you’re telling me that all of this around us – this whole life – is an illusion?” he asked haltingly, not daring to move his eyes from her face, as though he thought she might disappear as quickly as she had come to him.

“Well, yeah, basically,” she tried to explain. “Or more like…it’s a possibility that didn’t actually come true. There’s this v-villain in my home, in the real timeline that I come from, who made a wish that reset things, and I was sucked into it. I have a son, family and friends, a-and another version of you…who’s my True Love…there missing me. And I have to get back to them.”

“There’s another me?” he breathed, and where anyone else would have been skeptical, he looked merely stunned, wanting. “And…we’re…together?”

“Yeah, we are,” she whispered, laying a hand over his rapidly beating heart and drawing comfort from its rhythm. She already felt stronger, more certain, even with this iteration of her pirate. Her watery smile quirked up into a bit of a smirk at one corner, “And don’t worry, he’s still devilishly handsome.”

Her captain’s eyes fell to their joined hand and hook in his lap, huffing out a laugh at her words. “More so than I, I’d wager,” he murmured.

Emma hummed under her breath, reaching out to run her fingers along a grey streak in his longer hair. “I don’t know about that,” she offered. “There’s something pretty appealing about this model, grey hair and all.”

“You flatter me, Milady,” he teased, that voice still a sinful purr rumbling from his chest as he lifted her hand to press a kiss to its back. Still, emotion welled up beneath the flirtation, making his magnetic gaze all the harder for her to escape. She was blinking, nonplussed and floundering for some audible response, when he straightened and pulled her to her feet with him. “Enough lollygagging then! I’ll prepare the old girl to set sail. It’s time we got you back where you belong!”

For a moment, Emma was stunned anew. This full-on piratical version of her True Love, who didn’t really even know her and had no reason to do anything she said, had not only chosen to believe her story, but was going out of his way to help her – just as he had ever since he turned his ship around to take her to Neverland. The lump in her throat was almost too much to speak around, but Emma managed to croak out, “You really would give anything to help me, wouldn’t you?” even as she shook her head in disbelief.

“Aye,” he affirmed, looking a bit like he was marveling at that fact himself. “I am not sure I fully understand, nor can I explain it to you, but I sense that I would – that I am almost compelled – to help you in any world or time you would appear to me.”

“Thank you,” was all she could really say in response, her wondering smile nearly blinding him with its brilliance.

“Come then,” he offered her his arm, his speech all business again, even while the pointed tips of his ear flushed, clearly uncomfortable with the gratitude and praise. “Above deck, and we’ll be off. I know someone who deals in nigh impossible to procure objects.”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

Standing beside him at the helm just a few short hours later, wind in her hair and the salt spray on her face, it struck Emma that though she was desperate to get home, to make sure her son, her family, and her Killian were alright, she didn’t want to simply abandon this pirate captain beside her. She didn’t know what would happen to him, if he would find something to live for, something to be part of, or if she was dooming him to his quiet desperation…even if he might simply vanish into nothingness with the rest of this ill-fated wish. She didn’t know what happened next, to be completely honest. Laying a hand on his forearm, she gazed up into his face, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what becomes of you, or this realm, when I leave here and go home,” she admitted. “I’m not sure if you all just go on like it never happened, if you cease to exist, if you wander here aimless forever…I just…I don’t know…”

Covering her hand with his, he guided the ship with no more than his hook rested capably on the wheel. “Worry not, Princess,” was his confident response, fervent resolve painted over his strong, careworn features. “We shall still set things right, as they should be. Whatever comes after this – infinity or oblivion – will be an awfully big adventure.”

Tagging: @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @thislassishooked @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @stahlop @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @wefoundloveunderthelight @apiratewhopines @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @ineffablecolors @drowned-dreamer @thisonesatellite @kday426 @ultraluckycatnd @xhookswenchx @hookedonapirate @blowmiakisscolin

#self promo sunday #cs canon divergent ff #season 6 divergent one shot #into the unknown with you #wish realm fix-it fic #of a sort?

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