#it's still a huge wip inside but i like all the plants outside ;-; gives me a huge italian countryside vibe

[virsancte]

a dream of tartosa . . .

#ts4 exterior #ts4 edit #simblr #sims 4 #my builds #it's still a huge wip inside but i like all the plants outside ;-; gives me a huge italian countryside vibe #not liking the windows too much but idk what to use #i like some of the non cc ones but ofc they don't have an open equivalent UGHH

[yoshibb]

Hi! Little something different from usual. I saw the @shepherds-of-haven summer prompt list and I decided to give it a try. Shepherds of Haven is a WIP interactive fiction and it has been such a huge comfort read for me, I highly recommend it! While I'm in love with all the characters, my favorite RO is Chase, so this story is for the prompt sleep with my F!MCAerynXChase. I did my best to keep everything as accurate as possible character and lore wise >.< Thanks for reading! Blinding Light Chase can't sleep. The concept itself isn't disturbing. He's gone plenty a night without a wink of shut-eye. But to not be able to, to have his thoughts jumbled, his leg bouncing, it's unusual. He stretches his fingers in front of him, flexing them soundlessly in the dark like he can find the answer in the lines of his palms.

Something is wrong.

He sits up, not bothering to find a light, his eyes long adjusted to the dark. There are still sounds coming from the Shepherds' Compound, but it's clear that the majority of the occupants have turned in. He doesn't always stay on grounds, but he's been making more exceptions recently for whatever reason.

There's no point in trying to join them in their well deserved rest. He rolls out of bed, slipping into an outfit suitable for traversing the city's rooftops. If his mind refuses to be silent then he might as well occupy it before it decides to turn to more... uncomfortable subjects.

He climbs out onto the rooftop and pauses. An irresistible urge to check on Aeryn tugs at him. For a moment he considers ignoring it. It's late, she needs her rest more than anyone and despite his stealth there is always the small chance he could wake her. But like most forces involving Aeryn, it's less of a tug and more of a compulsion. He spins around, lightly stepping to her bedroom window. He starts to undo the lock but finds it already open. He smiles to himself, forgetting that she'd stopped bothering to latch it after he'd picked it so many times.

She never asks him 'why he never uses the door' like a normal person would or scolds him for invading her privacy outside a brief huff of annoyance. It is strangely difficult to get under her skin, but a challenge he's taken to whole-heartedly.

However, though the space inside is dark, the bed is empty. His heart trembles with an ominous thump. He shakes his head, scolding himself. There are plenty of explanations for this. His eyes drift about the room to take in what's missing. Most notably her sword that usually rests against her nightstand. She normally leaves it close enough to grab in case of danger. The bed is made and her uniform is gone.

He should check the patrol schedule.

What are you doing?

He stutter steps when he reaches the low lights of the hallway. What is he doing? He should be picking the lock on some unsuspecting noble's balcony by now. And yet nothing stopped him from progressing towards the large board downstairs.

The lamps provide just enough light for him to read. Letters which were once incomprehensible now make perfect sense thanks to Aeryn's tutoring. His smile lengthens as her name jumps out at him. He even knows the route she's covering. Not the best part of Haven, but not the worst. He has nothing to worry about.

He blinks and looks down. He plants his hand on his disobedient limb, physically stopping his right leg from bouncing. He studies it like it's a mystical object rather than a part of his body. His eyes slide up to Aeryn's name again, the discontent tug now like a rope around his wrist, dragging him to where she should be.

He was going to do a little sightseeing anyway, what would the harm be in 'bumping' into her?

Soon enough he is outside, climbing the walls and out into the streets of Haven. Darting into the first alley, he bounces off the wall and uses his momentum to reach the ledge, pulling himself up onto the roof without any trouble. The air is cool, comfortably so. The wind barely provides any resistance as he leaps from rooftop to rooftop.

Normally, he'd take in the sights, watch for a potential target, enjoy the rush of adrenaline. It's the perfect night for a sprint, but his mind is clouded by the hunt. He scans the streets below, empty besides the rare drunkard or overworked laborer.

Until he finally sees her, long golden honey hair that somehow still shimmers under insufficient light. A presence that always seems to blind him the minute she catches his gaze.

His heart beats against its cage, his smile stretching until his cheeks hurt. His sunshine, his Aeryn.

He catches himself, pressing a hand against his mouth as a cold shiver courses through him. No, not his. Free to come and go as she pleased. In and out of his bed, to be with whoever she wanted. Just as he is.

Regaining control of himself he looks down again, studying the sway of her hips and the grace of her walk. It's enough to ignite a flame inside his core that he's eager to chase. A smirk smooths its way across his lips. It would be a matter of convincing her to abandon her post, but she's never turned him down before.

He skips over one more roof and leaps down silently, a building's distance between them. The first time he'd snuck up on her like this, she'd nearly taken his head from his shoulders. He had the reflexes to dodge her if he needed to, but she stopped her stroke before it nicked his throat. She'd sighed and asked him not to do it again. He'd simply smiled and stepped closer to her, promising nothing.

He'd repeated his stunt again with similar results but never in the dead of night. A thrill weaves through him as he approaches her, his tongue dancing out over his lower lip.

And then she turns.

Sharply, west, down a dark alley. The move startles him and unlike his normal marks, he trails her blindly.

An arm shoots out and cuts off his progress, causing him to stumble to a stop. Her other arm grazes against his back, effectively caging him in.

"Chase," Aeryn says in a scolding yet fond manner.

"It appears you've caught me, Captain," he reclines against the brick wall between the barrier of her arms, a lazy smile painting his lips. "So what do you plan to do with me?" Aeryn shakes her head.

"That's it? No tricks? You're just giving up? I don't believe it." Her eyes dance across his form and he's more than happy to allow it.

"I'm finding this position more than agreeable at the moment, but we'll see how things play out, sunshine." He propels himself forward from his lounging position. He pauses, their similar heights allowing him to nearly brush his lips against hers. To her credit she doesn't flinch, keeping her arms fixed on either side of him. He tilts his head in playful innocence. "I can offer a bribe, but I've heard you are an honest sort."

Aeryn hums unable to stop her own smile from echoing his, "I may be open to a different sort of bribe."

He chuckles low in his throat, the flicker of heat growing into a furnace. He nearly closes the distance, but he manages to draw back. He wants to see the thirst in her eyes first. The inescapable longing he's felt all night.

Instead, he's met with her concern. It catches him off guard, and he struggles to keep his nonchalant grin in place. "Aeryn?"

She catches his chin in her fingers and ignites a magelight with her other hand. He swallows tightly as she examines his face like a healer would.

"Your skin is pale," she says.

"Just a trick of the light. Nothing worth worrying yourself over." He gently tries to push her hand away. But she's insistent, thumb tracing his bottom lip, faintly cracked beneath her touch.

"You have dark circles under your eyes. Have you been sleeping?" She chides him. He tries to defend himself, but he's too distracted by the way her fingers glide across his cheek and lightly stroking his eyelashes. His eyelids flutter, and his body shivers under her featherlight caresses. Soft and caring and so completely foreign. He leans into her palm, lowering his guard for just a moment.

And she doesn't waste it.

She leans in and presses a tender kiss to the curve of his jaw. Wrapping her arms around him, she folds their bodies together until the two of them become intimately one. He turns his head into the crook of her neck, deeply inhaling the heady scent of sage. He cards his fingers into her long hair, enjoying the feel of it as it slides through the gaps of his fingers.

And it's enough. He allows himself to sink further until he's drowning in her embrace. Where no one can touch him, nothing can ever hurt him again, as long as she has him. She lays butterfly kisses on his forehead and each of his eyelids before releasing him. He very nearly clings to her but forces himself to let go, knees weak as he falls against the wall. She holds his hand for a moment longer, squeezing it tightly.

"Go to bed, please. For me? I'll be back soon." She promises, her grip slipping from his.

Instead of letting him disagree, she kisses him softly good night, her lips offering no more than a caress. He stands frozen for a moment, watching her disappear around the corner. As if leaving is so simple.

Confusion muddles his mind as he slides down the wall, hitting the ground with a thud. He stares at his hand, still tingling from her touch. Her scent still lingering on his clothes.  

He starts to get up, ready to continue on with his plans for the night only for his limbs to betray him. He stumbles against the tidal wave of exhaustion. It suddenly feels as if he could sleep for days. He searches for the cure for his insomnia and finds her further down the road. His heart soars to life again. And then a deep fear creeps up his spine.

What's come over me?

#shepherds of haven #shepherds summer 2021 #chase trinaeste #hoping I did this man justice <3

[secondhand-trash]

Leg Warmer

A/N: this Christmas, as a gift to myself, I’m writing more brainless fluff with my comfort au instead of touching my wips...

Pairing: kitsune!Miya Atsumu x reader

Word count: 1135

(more of the modern magic au here)

-

The wind was howling as people around you held their coats and scarves tightly to their bodies before rushing past. It was hard to keep your feet planted on the ground with each strong push of the wind at your back, threatening to make you stumble forward if you didn’t put all your focus on maintaining balance.

The fact that you were holding a huge plastic bag with your fried chicken takeout was not helping your case even for one bit.

Stupid Atsumu, you cursed under your breath as each inhale of the cold air had your throat tickling at how chilly it was. You two usually had a “I’ll go this time and you’ll go the next” policy when it comes to running errands, but the reality was that neither of you wanted to step one foot out of the comforts of your home in this dire winter season and like other mature adults, you two decided to settle this with the most civil, fair way possible.

You couldn’t believe that of all the times you won in rock, paper, scissors it was now of all times that luck had betrayed you.

One final turn at the corner of the streets sent you back to your apartment complex, and you let out a sigh in relieve as the inviting door of your home got closer and closer with each heavy step you took. Your arms were starting to feel sore from holding up the boxes of food for too long, and laying down for a nap in front of the kotatsu had never sounded like a better idea.

You pressed on the doorbell and waited for your dumb fox of a boyfriend to come open the door for you. You were too lazy to fish out your keys and the least he could do after sending you out to get takeout in freezing cold winter was to open the door for you oncr you get back.

Maybe you would let him have the drumstick tonight if he is a good little fox and offers his nice soft tail as a foot warmer for your services.

But there was no sound, no footstep or lazy voice answering the doorbell coming from the other end of the door.

You groaned, hooking the bags all on one arm as you rummaged through your bag to grab your keys. 

“I’m home...” you mumbled as you kicked your shoes off, letting out a relieved sigh when you finally got to put down the food you had been carrying onto the table. 

Looking around the house, you could not see Atsumu anywhere. He was just sitting in front of the kotatsu as he watched you go out, where the hell was he now?

“Tsumu?” you poked into the corridor to find that your bedroom was also empty. Had he gone out? He wouldn’t, not when it was so cold outside and he was near falling asleep right when you left anyways. 

Falling asleep... falling asleep?

Crouching down in front of the table that sat right in front of your couch, you lifted up the blanket that draped across it and looked inside. There he was, or should you say “it” when he was all fox and no human underneath the cosy kotatsu that was emitting a lovely warmth. The orange bundle of fur was all spread out lazily underneath the table and right below where the heater was installed. His belly rose and fell with each breath, the soft fleece of his tail vibrating as he napped.

The nerve of him to be here sleeping with his stomach out while you were out suffering the cold.

“?????” 

The fox let out a shocked screech when you put your hands that were still freezing from the cold right on the soft fur of his tummy. Protesting as you tried to pull him out from under the table, he clawed at the ground to remain inside the blankets but failed.

“Change back.”

The fox blinked as you demanded, his round eyes swirling around like he was contemplating what he wanted to do. Your fingers tapped impatiently at the side of your arm as they crossed in front of your chest, glaring at the fox that was still half-crouching on the ground.

You watched as he slowly looked down before closing his eyes, and slowly, slowly laying down on the floor completely. The vein at the side of your neck pulsated when his paws fell limp at his sides, before his body entirely gave out of strength and just stayed there stilly.

God, he was so dumb.

“Don’t play dead!” you gritted through your teeth before tapping the side of his thigh with your toe. The fox opened one eye to inspect your reaction, before unwillingly climbing up until it was sitting on the floor.

Your boyfriend was back in the blink of an eye, like he had always been there, with his cheeks squished against the table and pouting. The large ears that was now pressed down against his head flopped as he sighed, the large tail behind him swooshing side to side.

“So cruel...” he lowered himself further down on the table as he mumbled.

“Me? Cruel?” you snorted in disbelief as you started violently ripping off the knot on the takeaway bags, “oh, never.”

Atsumu looked up at you as you slammed down the boxes of fried chicken on the table. You wanted to push him away as he skittered closer to your side, but he stopped you with his chin on your shoulder and his arms around your frame that successfully stopped you from thrashing around.

“Aw, don’t be mad, don’t be mad... it’s Christmas!” he whined while rubbing his face at the crook of your neck, making you tilt your head back so you wouldn’t be hit by his ears. He moved you closer to the kotatsu before putting your legs inside the blanket. The heater was soothing on your chilled skin, and he grinned as your shoulders slowly eased under his arms. Shifting in his seat, he flicked his tall until it was resting right on top of your legs, covering you gently as he hugged you close.

The brush of fur rubbed against your leg, like he was trying to give you a pat.

“There, there, all nice and warm.” He said, latching onto you as your hands found their way to his ears and let out a happy coo when you scratched down.

“Fine,” you sighed, leaning closer against him to catch more of the heat he was radiating, “you are forgiven.”

“Good,” he mumbled, before perking up from your side and flicking his gaze to the boxes you were in the middle of taking out.

“Can I get a piece of chicken now?”

“No.”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagines #miya atsumu imagine

[codedredalert]

abandoned lawsan fantasy magic royalty arranged marriage fic excerpt

(Earlier this year, I made a deal with @yukino-ks that I'd trade x words of my abandoned lawsan bigbang attempt depending on their exam results. They got 2.6k off me and I've been terribly slow in getting an excerpt I can actually show people. (There's a reason I abandoned over 20k and several editing passes.) It's unbetad and WIP and just an excerpt of a longfic so it has some notes mixed in, but I finally have something I'm willing to let see light of day. Sorry I took so long, and congrats on doing well!)

Warnings: forced marriage, dark themes, magic coercion (I mean, Doffy exists), general background awfulness, but hey cute heart pirates interaction 

.

The engagement ring sat heavy on Sanji's finger, warm with his own body heat and with the faint power of Law's magic. A pale blue stone on a white-gold band, the crisp blank sky of winter finally breaking, the white-blue of lightning, of a glacier cracking as it falls into the sea. 

Law on the marble floor collapsed when the King Donquixote no longer deigned to puppet his broken body with the betrothal ceremony finished. 

Absently, Sanji played with the ring, conscious of the feel of it against his skin, how it changed how he moved his hand. He wondered if Law was awake and about, or if he was still in the deep healing sleep that prompted his servants to close ranks and politely ask Sanji to leave. He wondered if he could ask, or if that would destroy the tentative sort-of friendship they'd started to form before the cruel proceedings of the day before. Sanji had followed his first instinct was to help, to kneel beside Law and help him bear up his weight on fractured bones, to help him back to his tower— it might have done more harm than good. Law was a proud man, and Sanji had inadvertently wounded his pride. 

A knock on the door dragged Sanji from his thoughts.

"Yes?" he asked, dropping his hand to his side and standing. The person at the door merely knocked again, so Sanji opened the door. 

It's Law, his hair messy and in simple sleeping clothes, dark, soft, and formless. His symbol is emblazoned across his chest in yellow. A hint of bruising and the peek of a bandage shows where the fabric drapes off Law's prominent collarbones. 

A stab of pity and empathy and solidarity goes through Sanji, and the hand he has on the handle of the door goes numb as it grips harder, where Law cannot see.

"Come with me," said Law. He started moving away, giving Sanji space to enter the corridor. 

Sanji raised a brow and the oddly visceral feelings evaporated instantly. 

"Good morning to you too," replied Sanji, even as he followed and closed the door behind him. It melded back to the stone wall, perfectly hidden. "Go with you where?" 

"Kitchens." Law's walking gait was slower and shorter than usual, and uneven though he still stood tall. It was almost like yesterday hadn't happened, except for the glimpse of pale metal and yellow stone on his hand. 

"Oh, you're wearing it," came out of Sanji's mouth before he realised how stupid that sounded. He couldn't let his guard down just because his bleeding heart had gone out to Law when it turned out that the Crown Prince was very human behind all the rumours. 

Law blinked at him in surprise, lifting his hand to look at the ring, as if he'd forgot it was there, like it'd always been there and he had only just noticed. 

"Yeah," he said, looking away a bit too quickly. "This way." 

===/\===

A set of heavy wooden doors opened to a cosy kitchen, packed to full with people seated at a long wooden table, laden with plates and bowls of sweet oat porridge, flatbreads, steamed buns, eggs and bacon and beans, with savoury rice porridge, with noodles— cuisines from all over. Sanji barely had a moment to take it all in as everyone at the table jumped up, cheering and clapping. 

"Welcome to His Highness' lover!" someone hooted and loud laughter ensued, whistles and cheering resounded. Someone shoved a champagne flute into his hand and another someone all but dragged him to the bench where somehow the rest of the table squeezed to make space for him. 

"Congrats on being a bad influence on His Highness," the redhead who dragged him to the table said cheerily as he squeezed his chair in to reach the table. "Bread roll?" 

Sanji took one and it was good bread, a crust which crunched lightly under his fingers, soft fluffy insides when he broke it open and placed it on his plate. 

"Bad influence?" asked Sanji, bewildered by the ruckus. He looked round for Law, and found him standing just behind his left shoulder. Law nodded, sipping from a bright yellow mug which he hadn't been holding a moment before.

"You defied Doflamingo," Law explained.

Oh, they had to be referring to the sarcastic backtalk Sanji had made when the giant pink-feather fashion disaster tried to get him to report on Law's comings and goings. So Law had been conscious for that. Sanji was suddenly very glad he'd decided to mouth off instead of try to pretend to play along. Besides, it had been a clever comeback.

"Anything that pisses off the King Asshole, or any of the assholes over in the Toybox, makes you alright with us," the redhead elaborated, dumping half a plate of greasy bacon on Sanji's plate.  

"And if you can get our prince to eat, everyone will love you," the person seated on the redhead's other side said. It was the man with the white and black hat, who had taken a half-unconscious Law from Sanji and barked out orders to the other servants before politely asking Sanji to leave. He frowned as the redhead took the rest of the bacon, stacking the empty plate beneath his own. "And dammit Shachi, I wanted some." 

"Not my fault your food scramble game is weak, Peng. Ask Ikkaku to pass some, there's another plate on the other end of the table," Shachi said unapologetically. The man in the hat rolled his eyes, but turned and yelled down the other end of the table for the bacon. 

Sanji took a moment to process all this and looked back to Law. 

"You don't eat?" asked Sanji, incredulous. 

"I do."

"Coffee isn't food," Peng recited almost like a proverb as he put some bacon on his plate. He did not offer it to Shachi. 

For a moment, Law didn't answer, and then pointedly, he sipped his coffee. It was so bratty and childlike that Sanji nearly choked trying not to laugh. 

Peng rolled his eyes and looked to Sanji. 

"You see what we have to work with?" he said, as if Law couldn't hear them. "The list of what he eats could be written on your palm." 

Now if that weren't a challenge Sanji couldn't refuse— 

"Write it down for me and give me free reign of a kitchen," Sanji replied. "And I'll see what I can do." 

"You don't have to," Law started to say, just as Peng grinned and said "Done!", reaching over Shachi's plate to shake Sanji's hand. 

Sanji shook on it, excited for the chance to cook again for the first time since coming to Dressrosa. Law rolled his eyes, but fondly. If he'd really wanted to, he could order otherwise. It was… nice, that he let this go. 

"Do you think I could try some?" asked the huge polar bear toy seated on Law's other side. Sanji startled, still not quite used to toys talking, but Law's hand just went up to pat the toy bear on his nose.

"You can't eat, Bepo. Otherwise I have to operate on you again and wash out your stuffing." Law paused. "I don't know why you like it anyway. It's not like you can taste it."

"It looks pretty and everyone else gets to eat. I feel lonely."

Law patted Bepo on the nose again comfortingly. 

"It's not that great," said Law. He finished his coffee.

Sanji resolved then and there to make Law eat those words with dinner. 

===/\===

[More conversation, Shachi and Bepo are escorting Sanji back to his room. Originally, I had fun worldbuilding stuff about how much Law hates the tower and Bepo's origin story but it's not relevant in the excerpt.]

"What's that?" asked Sanji. In a short joining corridor between this homey servant's kitchen and the lonely tower and its rooms which lock from the outside, there was a space where he could see a sliver of sky, and a splash of colour below. 

"What's what?" asked Shachi. Sanji gestured over the side of the open down to a sort of courtyard garden, with flowering plants grown in elaborate patterns so from the top down, they formed complicated motifs and images of a strange ship breaking the waves, a treasure chest and a heart. 

"It's pretty, right?" said Bepo cheerfully. "His Highness does it himself, he moves the flowers around when he's had a bad dream. He says it makes him feel better." 

There was space, paths amongst the flowers, a couple of benches and a small pavilion, along with the little pond and irrigation system and lights. 

"It's Law's garden, then," said Sanji, an idea coming to mind. "Say, is there a table in that pavillion?" 

===/\===

[Sanji cooks dinner for Law and they have a nice romantic dinner in the pavillion but Law Does Not Care about food and that is honestly kind of upsetting for Sanji. I had to cut my favourite part of the entire fic out and that hurtie just a bit.]

"If you've had enough of forcing me to eat—" Law said, and Sanji wanted to snap at that, but Law managed to finish his sentence first. "Do you want to take a walk?" 

"I thought you had work to do?" replied Sanji, a little coldly, but Law didn't seem to notice. He shrugged.

"It can wait, I'll be up late tonight anyway."

They walk. The air is cold, and clouds roll through the courtyard sometimes, wisp and damp and cold. The courtyard meets the side wall of the castle, and on the other side is the steep drop into a distant dark fog. 

It didn't take long to walk the entirety of the courtyard, small as it was. They sat on the lone bench, it was dewy with the condensation of the clouds and the rapidly cooling night. 

"So, with all this, I take it you want to try and act like lovers," commented Law. 

It was more a judgment than a question. Sanji stiffened, was Law going to make fun of him? 

"Not with that attitude," Sanji retorted. His hand went to his pocket for his cigarettes. He lit one, agitated and feeling like the effort he'd put into making the evening nice was, all in all, a nett waste. 

Law considered Sanji without taking any offence. 

"I'm not interested anyway. Don't get me wrong," Law added quickly, a hand outstretched as Sanji sat straighter, half-way to standing and walking away. "You're plenty attractive, and if it's sex you want, I could show you a good time." 

"You know the meaning of the word?" 

Law ignored his interjection. 

"It's the… other things," he continued calmly. "The holding hands and fancy dinners and being sentimental. I'm not good at that. I'm not going to stab you if you look at another man, and I'd prefer the same vice versa." 

Sanji looked at him flatly. 

"What." 

"It's common enough around here that there's a proverb that... never mind, the explanation is too long. The point is, if romance is what you're hoping to get out of this marriage, I'm going to disappoint. I can put up with it a little bit but not for long."

"Why the marriage, then?"

Law's head snapped to him sharply. His expression made him look more angry than confused, though his tone when he spoke was confused. 

"I told you, after the ceremony," Law said, as if he expected Sanji to remember every detail said when Law had been crumpled on the floor and bleeding through his engagement suit. "We both got signed away without having any say in it. I thought we had an understanding, and I'm surprised you want something more. I mean, it's…" He couldn't seem to find an adjective for it. "Well. it's something. That you want to try. I'm flattered." 

"You couldn't refuse this marriage?" asked Sanji, processing this new information. If it were true, that made Law more a fellow prisoner than a bored and slightly sympathetic jailor. That changed everything, it meant Sanji had more allies than he thought. Still— "But you tried. That time before the betrothal ceremony. You told the King you're not marrying anyone."

"And that clearly worked," Law retorted snidely. His glowing yellow eyes were less friendly now. "So, is that what you thought of me? And all this— the aid, the kindness, the food— was this you bending backwards to keep me happy? So I don't call off the engagement and leave you to face your family's wrath for losing a valuable alliance?"

He was angry, and right. Some of it had been a little calculated, so what? Sanji had nothing here, no rights of magic to stand on, no support, and people who would die if he stepped one toe out of line. That didn't mean he couldn't want something, anything, to make the days more bearable. That maybe, though married to a man he'd never met before, he might have something which passed for love.

"Not… exactly. You already know my situation, and besides, I'm meant to be an insult," explained Sanji, grim. He hadn't expected to speak of this, and it was harder than he thought. "You're the Crown Prince, you should have married my sister, or at the very least the eldest son. Not—" the third son who has no magic to speak of. "Not me. So, you're right. I'm at your mercy. But you've been decent. So I thought. Well. We could be friends at least." 

It took a moment but Law's glare softened, pacified. 

"Don't worry about that part so much. The insult bit— we know. Doflamingo thought it was hilarious. He wants to parade you around until you're the very symbol of the Germa and your father will be associated with you."

A pause. 

"Not liking that much either, " Sanji said, voice flat. 

"He has a shit sense of humour," agreed Law. "Your being fair-haired and a smoker is partly why he agreed, I'm sure. Or he wouldn't have forced me to give you that cloak." 

Speaking of the cloak, Sanji remembered the package he'd put in his bag. He fished it out, and offered it to Law. 

"You can have this back,'' said Sanji. 

"You don't like your betrothal gift?" asked Law, but Sanji noticed he was quick to take the offered cloak in hand. 

"It seems important to you."

… No answer, but Law draped the cloak around his own shoulders. It dwarfed him much like it had dwarfed Sanji. It seemed to be made for someone closer to the King's stature. 

"I was under the impression you're not that fond of the King," Sanji commented.

For a second, it seemed like Law would not respond. Head bowed and eyes closed, with the great cloak around him, he looked small and lost in memory.  

"His brother." said Law without opening his eyes, and he drew the coat tighter around himself with his hands. "My benefactor." 

He brought the sleeve up against the white light of the garden lamp. 

"See?" said Law, and his expression was so gentle that for a moment Sanji felt like he shouldn't have seen it, like it was some secret thing he had no right to. "The deep purple, almost black. It's hard to see, but it's there." 

Sanji tore his eyes from Law's face to look at the shadows of the cloak. Sure enough, there were purple sparks, almost lost in the brighter pink. 

"I see it."

"It's not a powerful type of magic," said Law, voice wistful. "I used to disdain it myself, when I was a child. This particular one is Silent Night— it blocks out noise to give the wearer a— a peaceful sleep."

Law's voice tripped over his words and he lowered the coat, curled over it, for a second he was so overcome with emotion he couldn't speak. Sanji averted his eyes, looking out over the gardens. The pale shapes of the white and yellow flowers in the white garden lights, and the distant moon. The flat blades of the leaves and the washed out mosaic tiles. 

"This—" Law's hands tightened on the cloak in Sanji's peripheral vision. "Means a lot. More than you could know. ...Thanks." 

It was awkward, but then, Law seemed the type unaccustomed to thanking others. 

"You're welcome," Sanji said simply, and they sat together in silence late into the night. 

#lawsan #trafalgar law #black leg sanji #opfic #one piece #heart pirates #bepo #penguin one piece #shachi one piece #you cant write law without talking about corasan it cant be done #my writing #mine #yukino-ks

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Without Question (9)

Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Content: impulsive SMUT

Warnings: Pure SMUT. Young babies who are not 18+ yet please refrain from reading this.

Word Count: It just came out of nowhere, really. I am surprised as much as the next person but here we are. Maybe it was some latent thirst that suddenly resurfaced, ya know. As long as my WIPs be completin’ I’m good.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

"House. Now." You don't let him say another word as you drag Steve towards your house by the corner of his Henley. The kiss was wonderful, no doubt about it. But the last three days were a turmoil inside you, literally and figuratively, and Steve was one of the reasons for it. You need more. You want more. Turns out, so does Steve. The longing ache inside him seems to swirl in his belly as he has tasted you now. In the silent war going inside him, you seem to be the neutral ground he has found after so long. He needs you. Letting go of his shirt, you grab his hand and break into a run towards the familiar structure that is your home as the clouds rolling above the two of you start turning grey, the chilled wind ringing the alarms of the incoming thunderstorm. Steve entangles his fingers in yours, your burning skin sends electricity coursing throughout his existence, questioning his luck to have found you in this chaos. The first hard huge drops fall over your burning skin just as you reach the steps of the porch. Without so much as a warning, you bring Steve forward, pushing him with your everything into the door before planting your fervent lips over his, done waiting.

Steve does not mind the visible thirst at all. To your surprise, he welcomes it by digging his fingers into your hips, drawing your body closer to him, the fabric between your fired up skin being the only boundaries for now as he runs his tongue down your throat, chasing every corner, marking it as his. He is as ravenous as you by this point, done with the pain and angst building inside him. To hell with the world. Right now, you are the only thing he wants to revolve around. And the feeling is mutual. Your hands are already in his hair, his beard moving against your skin, lighting it up with sparks you feel throughout your being. You bite his lips, tasting the rain over the supple pink as you draw your hips over his thigh, moaning deliciously into his mouth while your hands chase the goosebumps under his shirt over his hard muscles, feeling him shiver under your touch. Oh, the man crumbles, a voice inside you calls out but you do not pay heed. There is no need to. Today it's not the sketches inside your head but the strokes in the reality that you are bound on chasing. As your lips part for a painful instant, you notice his blue is dark, darker than the night he appeared like he wanted to devour you. His hands move down to your robe, landing on your heated skin, moving to your ass, grabbing it before lifting you up, letting you wrap your legs around his hips. His mouth is all over you. His tongue runs up your neck, making you grab his tightened muscles in his arms as he clicks open the door and takes you both inside. Manoeuvring clumsily around the living room, he makes his way to your room, closing the door behind you before gently slamming you into it, driving his aching erection against your needy cunt. A broken gasp erupts through your lungs as you respond by your hips over the bulge in his pants. "Come," you state breathlessly, "let me take care of this," undoing your hold around his hips to stand on your feet. Steve stops breathing, his eyes grabbing onto yours, as your hands move down to undo his belt, the brush against his exposed skin making him tremble and his breath erratic, driving you further into an ecstatic swirl. Within seconds his pants and boxers are on the floor and you are slowly pushing him back onto your bed. Removing his shirt, you force him down into the white sheets, planting wet needy kisses over his chest, leaving a trail as you move down. A crumbled gasp escapes Steve as he feels his length in your hands, the gentle fingers spreading the precum, giving it a pump or two before your tongue is breaking his shell apart bit by bit, letting him moan with the kind of pleasure he does not remember savouring in this lifetime. His head is going further down into the pillow while his hand finds your hair as you run his length up and down your throat with an occasional tease around his frenulum, causing him to grunt and shudder, avoiding the overt urge to drive his hips up. Another run of your tongue and his hand is grabbing onto your hair for dear life, making you moan all around him, sending his already swelling cock into a flurry. "Hh-w-ai-o-hh-h-" Nothing makes sense in his scrambled mind as his brows crinkle up and his mouth opens in a muted felicity, when you curl your lips just a little to barely run your teeth over his length, moaning through your throat again, letting the vibrations work through him, all the while your own core throbs for some attention. "S-s-top 'm about tuh-" The words don't find their end. You feel powerful as you watch the man who has been the cause of your sweet nightmares, your sweats, your shudders, your aching chore- now wet and wanting more- lying under you trying to catch his breath after the pure bliss that you are the cause of. Planting kisses on his jaw, you let your tongue run a wet trail by his neck as your teeth tease his sweaty skin before nibbling around the sweet spots over his shoulder. Your arms prevent you from falling over him by grounding you when you feel him drive his hips up in between your legs, his hands are working on getting off your robe to let them finally feel your bare skin on his. You plan to give him more than that. Moving your hips, you let your wet folds get a taste of his heated length, already feeling the waves teasing your thirsty shores. And without more delay, you let your needy pussy finally feel the hard cock as it goes inside you. Your breath breaks. So does Steve's. Your back arches, the electrifying rush creeping over you. Your hands ground you as they rest over his chest while his grab your thighs before running up to your ass, digging his fingers in, not wanting to let go. Your aching walls crave for friction, forcing you to move, your every sensual movement a slow dance in those blue eyes that do not falter from your perfect form over them. Sparks fly at the back of your eyes as Steve's length runs doggedly over your sweet spots, letting your walls quiver in delectation. The pale fingers dig into your skin every time you come down, creating an eruption of goosebumps all over your surface. Steve drives his hips higher into you, your cracked moan filling up the air that has gone colder with the hail bursting down outside your doors and windows. His hands wander up as your muscles flex with every move, feeling the peaks and valleys- as you ride him in slow rhythm- giving the much-needed attention to your breasts, massaging them, teasing the nipples, calling them to stand up while he drove harder into you. Your pace increases, so does his, the thrusts getting harder, sending you higher, your fingers burning into his skin for an anchor. Wild grunts leave your lungs as your walls tighten along his length, the hot ache wanting to burst. "Steve," you call out his name in between the moans that now know no restraints. He leaves the messed sheets to sit up and pulls your thighs further towards him in a quick pull that lands your back into your mattress. Your legs are wrapped around his hips now. Your lower back has left the sheets to come closer over his thighs as he takes charge. Thrusts get harder and faster. His hardness is the perfect blend of pleasure surmounting the needy aches of your starving walls, hitting every corner that can light up inside you and make you audibly squirm under him, call out his name like a sacred chant that has the potential to give you the perfect bliss. Steve knows he can. And so he does. The wilder his hips move, the louder you cry out in ecstasy, positive emotions flowing from every single sensation you feel. "Yes," your heavy breath tries to make a sound when your back arches higher to heighten the fireworks going on inside you. The walls tighten on his swelling length, forcing you to ride further into each other; the thrusts getting sloppier, the grunts getting feral; the nails leaving marks of the impact in the moment. Steve's hand moves between your thighs to find your clit, fingers rubbing the swollen bundle the right way as you feel yourself tighten further around him, forcing out positive grunts from his throat while your body tries not to give out till after the climax, your mouth agape, your breath caught in a soft pause, your toes curling up as the edge draws closer. "Y/N." That's it. Your name out of Steve's breathless state breaks the dams. The orgasmic groan echoes through the voltaic air while your limbs shiver violently through the sloppy ride as Steve finds his own orgasmic outburst right after you. Slow, hard and shuddering thrusts in between your legs and delicious bites on your wounded shoulder end the man. His head finds a place in the nook of your neck to bring his normal breaths back, his beard scratching your skin, sending microscopic sparks all the way down still. Your hands find his hair, caressing it as your lips kiss his temple. The sweat over the cooling surfaces rolls down with gravity, not bothering in the least the eyes that find each other again. With the softest touch over the others face, feeling the effects they had on the other before a soft kiss seals their unspoken declarations for good. Carefully pulling away from you, Steve takes care of you- better than anyone you have been with. Pulling out the duvet tucked at the foot of the bed, he pulls it over a tired you and himself before pulling you in his embrace. Your arms wrap around his torso- already declaring his wonderful existence your new haven- as he kisses your forehead. burying yourself in his chest that smells purely of him but with ten times the intensity, you feel his arms engulf you perfectly in his flushed cocoon. "Steve..." Your voice is barely a whisper. "Yes, doll?" His thumb softly strokes your back, keeping any unwanted meandering thoughts at bay. He dips his head to look at you when you don't say anything for some time. "I don't want to lose you," your whisper finally breaks. His embrace gets tighter around you. You don't want it any other way. "You won't," he states softly with a lingering kiss over your lips, "I promise you." You nod at his assurance and pass a smile before resting your head back on his chest. The storm crackles outside the bubble of warmth that is your home with the man you have seemingly given your heart to. You lie awake to breathe in every bit of his presence before sleep crawls under the covers beside you and lulls you to another place, safe in his arms for now. Safe till you fulfil the promise you have made to yourself.

TAGLIST

Permanent

@lokis-lady-death @lokixme @l0kisbitch @tarithenurse  @meganlikesfandoms @kcd15 @itheoneofmanyfandomsi @gotta-get-back-to-johnlock @moonlightprime @henloamkitty @confessionsofastrugglingteen @keepingupwiththelaufeysons @loving-life-my-way @supernatural-kinda-girl @magiclolipopqueen @cauraphernelia @fuckidontknow @libbymouse 

Steve

@ultraslytherwin @gemgemswift @jessicagoddamnjones @klmpun

#steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers series #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fandom #steve rogers ship #steve rogers soulmate #steve fanfiction #steve fluff #steve fic #marvel smut #marvel #marvel fluff #marvel soft smut #smut #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #mcu #marvel mcu

[phantom-stargazer]

a visit to the house in night bloom field: a short story

The night slithered down the trees and brought along more whispers. She did not stop to listen to them, of course – her legs carried her fast and her gaze was set straight as she looked for the moonlit clearing in the trees. She ignored her hip that throbbed painfully with each step – tripping over tangled roots hiding under soft carpet of moss was not going to make her go back. As she fell, she still held him clutched to her chest, wrapped in her favorite blue wool sweater. No, she would rather have scrapes and bruises than release him from her embrace. At least for now.

She chased away her thoughts about what was lurking in the forest. If stories she heard were true, it was their watch time now - observing visitors from a distance, no interaction. If stories she heard were true, they were more agreeable to humans who sang or played an instrument. Her voice would tremble if she tried to sing, and even if she knew how to play an instrument, her hands would have been occupied anyway.

So she hummed. Between the occasional snap of dry sticks under her feet, the rustling of leaves against her clothes, they listened to a melody in the darkness. It was not as intricate or captivating as the ones performed before her, but she calmed their hunger nonetheless. Just a little bit.

Her heart quickened its pace as the wall of trees thinned and a flicker of light appeared in the distance. She was close.

She stopped at the line where trees ended and an overgrown meadow began. Night blooms surrounded a little house, their pale heads swaying softly in a phantom wind. One step into the meadow and she would not be able to turn back.

There was no hesitation in her stride.

Night blooms craned their heads towards the sky, their smell strong and intoxicating. Something tugged at her heart when she stepped on them, but she could not see a path to the house, so she listened to the hiss of injured flowers.

The door opened the second she was about to knock. Stories spoke about an old sorcerer with a wicked smile on his face, but a boy, not much older than she, stood at the doorstep.

“A good night for traveling,” his voice reminded her of night blooms, airy and slightly sinister. “Such an exquisite moon to light your way to me.”

“Will you help me?” she asked, voice low and brittle. She moved the bundle from her chest towards the boy.

He rubbed his palms at his loose red shirt and smiled. “You came all the way here, of course I will.”

The boy gestured her to come inside and shut the door. Golden flame burned in the hearth made of glimmering black stone. It’s just shadows, she thought when dark figures danced on hearth stones, yet she felt someone laying their eyes on her. And it was not that boy in the red shirt.

A huge wooden table occupied the center of the room. Every windowsill was a clutter of clay pots with brightly colored flowers. Herb bundles hanged from the ceiling, covering it completely. It looked like someone had planted an upside down garden in this house. The smell of spices and dried flowers tickled her nose.

“Let us see what you brought me tonight.”

She laid him on the table, slowly and very gently. With the same gentleness, the boy unwrapped the sweater.

“Oh, so lovely,” he whispered and dipped his fingertips into the white fur. “What happened?”

“I don’t— I don’t know, I came back home and... and found him like this,” her voice broke and tears blurred her vision. “The— the stories about you —”

“You did the right thing, do not dare to worry. I will fix this, but you will have to give us a moment. Alone.” Dark eyes of the boy flickered with a yellowish glare, but she wiped her tears and that flicker was gone. “Go sit on the porch, I will come out when I am finished.”

She went outside and curled up on the rocking chair. If stories she heard were true, she did the most terrible thing the moment she put her foot in this forest, but she was not afraid. She stared at the edge of the clearing that looked like a black hole sucking in the light and the weak glow of night blooms. She knew that at the opposite side, they were doing exactly the same. Watching her and waiting.

Moments passed. Night blooms swirled their hushed promises around her. Pale mist floated above them, hiding them from open skies.

The door opened and wooden planks creaked beneath the boy’s feet. She scrambled from the rocking chair and set her eyes on his hands that held him.

“He is alive and well,” the boy spoke with pride in his voice. He jumped down from the boy’s hands and went to her, brushing against her legs. He purred. Tears welled in her eyes once more. She did not expect to hear that again.

She swooped him in her arms. The boy smiled at her, his eyes glimmering. The darkness in his eyes was deep, as if they fed on the cloudless night.

“How can I ever repay you?” His little body vibrated against her chest. It failed to fill her with the usual calm.

“You knew the price when you decided to come here,” the boy turned to the field of night blooms and the forest beyond. His hair moved a little, even though no wind was blowing.

The stories did not say what happened after a visit to the house in night bloom field. No one remained to tell those stories.

“Thank you,” her voice was barely more than a whisper. “For bringing him... back.”

His black hair, now resembling smoke more than hair, curled around his face, and his eyes burned with golden flame. “I should be thanking you.”

A shiver rippled down her spine. “I-I’ll be going now. Again, thank you.”

She looked for the same path she took when she came from the other side of the forest, but the flowers were gently swinging with no trace of someone stepping on them not so long ago. She scratched his ear and said, “We’re going home.”

This is how I’m dealing with nano right now - not looking my wip in the eyes and revisiting my old stuff (:

#writeblr #writing #original writing #creative writing #short story #fantasy #i have no idea how dashes work and was too lazy to look that up

[bitletsanddrabbles]

I understand, I was the idiot who asked the question. Still, I blame @alchemine for my Camp NANOWRIMO project this year. Behold, scene one of my most recent probably-never-to-be-finished WIP:

“The first dome was built in Hampshire back in the twenty first century - 2049 to be precise. It was moderately successful, but it wasn’t until 2062 that the unbreakable glass used in modern domes was created. The Downton dome was constructed in 2064 and reaches over a thousand acres, with a side dome of about half that size, making it the largest dome at the time. Most of the farm land was originally woods that have been converted for the production of food animals.”

“You mean the woods used to fill the entire dome?” Phyllis asked, her eyes not moving from Mr. Molsley’s face. She loved hearing the footman talk about history, watching his expression and listening to the low note of excitement in his voice. Besides, it was interesting to learn about the place she was increasingly coming to think of as ‘home’.

“Pretty much, from what I understand,” Mr. Molsley agreed, dropping his eyes from the lattice work of steel and glass above their heads. “The town was there already. They’d wanted to get it under the main dome, but they didn’t think they could do it without sacrificing structural integrity. As it was, if you look at the original concept sketches, the support pillars weren’t there. Those were added later when they determined they couldn’t reliably support that large a structure without them.”

Phyllis shuddered at the idea of the huge structure arching over them collapsing in on itself. “Which dome is the largest?” she asked, trying to distract herself before she could think about it too much.

“The capitol, New Westminster,” was the prompt reply. “The main dome is the size of the entire Downton complex, including the side dome, and it has six auxiliary domes dedicated to different forms of farming and residences. I’d love to see the park dome! Imagine, six hundred acres of just trees and gardens and ponds to walk through and explore. “

“That does sound nice.” Although she’d spent her formative years in Manchester, Phyllis’s family had moved to the Treowen dome before she’d finished her schooling. She was therefore already well accustom to green growing grass and trees by the time she came to Downton, although coming here as she’d done from the slums of London, it had been a relief beyond words to be able to draw a breath without wearing a gas mask again. Still, it had been common place enough that the Mr. Molsley’s enthusiasm over plant life, as dear as his love of history and undamped by thirty five years serving the Granthams, had been immediately endearing. “Do you think you’ll move to New Westminster, one day?”

“Move?” Mr. Molsley laughed a little at the thought. “Goodness no! Visit, perhaps, although even that means traveling outside.”

“It’s not that far, though. It would only be, what, an hour by train?”

“About that, when you factor in stops.”

“You should go there on your next day off,” Phyllis smiled, imagining him wandering through the parkland, “Then come back and tell me all about it.”

There was a slight hesitation as he thought about it, then he suggested, “We could go together. Assuming, of course, we could get the same day off. I’m certain her Ladyship would allow it.”

Phyllis turned her attention upward, trying to hide her own hesitation. On the one hand, the idea of going somewhere with Mr. Molsley made her feel flushed and excited, which was a little ridiculous if you considered she was hardly an innocent and they weren’t going to be doing anything beyond wandering down pathways. On the other hand, as he had pointed out, it involved leaving Downton. Even after two and a half years, the idea of somehow getting stranded in the world beyond the domes was terrifying. It was hypocritical of her, she supposed, to encourage him to do something she lacked the courage to do herself, but there it was. She was only human, after all.  “Perhaps I’ll speak to her Ladyship about it at some point,” she finally compromised. “When we both have the time.” There was a chiming from her pocket. Pulling her com screen out of her pocket, she turned off the alarm, then stood from the bench they’d been sitting on. “Speaking of her Ladyship, it’s time to go get ready for tea.”

“Would you like me to walk with you?” Mr. Molsley asked, also standing. “That is, I’ve been gone a fair while. Mr. Carson might come looking for me if I don’t get back soon.”

“Of course,” Phyllis stood. It was always adorable when the tall footman, who wasn’t really gangly but somehow gave the impression of it, tried to court her attention without seeming forward. She knew he was doing it, of course, and part of her felt she should return the favor. She certainly found him attractive. On the other hand, she didn’t want to be forward either. And so, their uncertain courtship continued with the two of them starting down the path that led from the garden to the servant’s yard.

As they walked the irrigation system kicked on, spraying the surrounding roses with a fine mist. Mr. Molsley paused for a moment to watch, then continued on. “You know, the roses were what impressed me most when I first came to Downton. That is, this was the first place I’d ever really seen plants, outside of crab grass and brambles and even those were half dead, so everything was new and fascinating, but the roses were even more so than everything else.”

“How so?” Phyllis asked, curious, even though she loved roses herself.

“I’m not entirely certain,” he admitted. “I think it was the sheer variety. I mean, you have everything from white and pink, which are the natural colours, to blue and black which aren’t even possible natrually. That took genetic engineering. Then there are the different shapes and plant types.”

“I love the way they smell.” The observation seemed a bit feminine to Phyllis, but it was met with enthusiastic agreement.

“The fragrant ones are very nice, and no two varieties smell the same, have you noticed?”

The topic of roses carried them from the gardens around the back of the house, past the stables and to the servant’s entrance. It wound to an end when a whiff of smoke alerted Phyllis to the fact that someone else was already taking up space against the yard wall. Despite the fact they were making no effort to disguise their footsteps, he seemed quite unaware of their presence, his head leaning back against the brick of the house and his eyes closed, cigarette apparently forgotten in his hand. Cautiously, Phyllis greeted him. “Hello, Thomas. Is everything alright?”

With a small start, proving that he really hadn’t been aware of them, Downton’s under butler came to life, pulling away from the wall and settling his expression into a polite smile that served as a better poker face than any gambler ever wore. “Of course,” he assured her. His tone matched his words, but Phyllis could never quite trust the promises that he was alright. He always insisted he was the happiest after she’d caught him looking miserable. The lack of trust hurt, but she couldn’t blame him. “Just finished examining the domes is all. Thought I’d have a smoke before I give my report. Taking stock of damage done by that last storm. Fifteen hundred acres is a lot of glass and steel to look at.”

It was generally agreed by the staff, quietly, when they thought he couldn’t hear, that the only reason Thomas had been kept on as long as he had was because he’d been raised by a glass maker and dome repairman and therefore the Granthams could save money on bringing the dome guild in by having him do inspections and minor repairs himself. A few of them, in their less charitable moments, had hoped that the elevator system that allowed access to the great structure hundreds of feet above them would break and leave the position open via an untimely death.  (Mr. Carson, as unfond as he obviously was of the younger man, put his foot down on such conversations. Phyllis said it showed he cared. Thomas said such an accident would reflect badly on the family and therefore Mr. Carson considered the suggestion unacceptable.) While Mr. Molsley liked Thomas as little as everyone else, he did try to at least somewhat get along with him in Phyllis’s presence, for which she was grateful. “How’s it look?” he asked, the question brightened by his genuine interest in the domes in general.

“A bit of damage,” Thomas allowed. “To be expected, really, given the size of the hail we were getting. We’ll have to call in the repair guild, possibly resurface a few of the panels, that sort of thing. The solar film on most of them is still in good working order, though, so we shouldn’t have to redo it all.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Phyllis replied with genuine relief. Since living in the least livable section of London for three years, she was hyper aware of the fact the structure allowing her to breathe without a gas mask was made of glass, and even Mr. Molsley’s assurances about how indestructible it was couldn’t make her any easier.

“Right,” Thomas’s smile broadened, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, then, I’d probably best make my report, and you two will be wanted inside.” He flicked out his cigarette and walked over to pull the door open. “After you two.”

...seriously, though, I have some idea where this is going, but no idea how to get there, and the science, while fun, is also kinda nerve wracking. So don’t expect to ever get more than this. >_<

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #alternate universe #distopian future #wip #needed this like a hole in the head

[siarven]

WIP Prep Tag Game

Thank you so much for tagging me @i-belong-in-space <3 Your wip sounds amazing, I’m glad you tagged me so I could learn about it :D

Rules: Answer the questions and then tag as many writers as there are questions answered (or as many as you can) to spread the positivity! Even if these questions are not explicitly brought up in the novel, they are still good to keep in mind when writing.

FIRST LOOK

I’ll be doing this for Like Dragons of Old because it needs development since I only started writing it for NaNoWriMo this year :D

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)

The Observer (an immortal) and a phoenix chicken raise two girls among the towering stacks of an ancient, sentient library. Selandri is the first child born in the Library in millennia, and Timbre is the only survivor of a war that destroyed an entire continent and killed (or changed) everything else living on it. 

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Is it a novella, single book, book series, etc.)

Because I’m incapable of doing short things Like Dragons of Old is the first in a trilogy called Song of the Aunae. 

Each book will span about 10 years, from when they’re children to ~18, 18 to around 30, and I guess 30-40? I’m very unsure about that last book. But there’ll be a lot of character development and growing up all in all. 

3. What is your novel’s aesthetic?

see 5 ... sorry, I’m too lazy xD 

4. What other stories inspire your novel?

A non-fiction talk held by Neil Gaiman about him basically raising himself in the library when he was young :P Also a ton of fantasy novels with creative worldbuilding and magic systems.

5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel

the wip-intro-post moodboard :D it’s the aesthetic for the whole story though, not just the first book

MAIN CHARACTER

6. Who is your protagonist?

I have three POV characters/protagonists, but I’m currently thinking that I’ll give each of them their own book in the series.

One is Selandri, she’ll get the first book. She’s the first child born in millennia in the Library, to later fulfill a certain task ( which she knows nothing about, of course). Selandri is ESFP and chaotic neutral. 

Next, Onii. Onii will be the POV character of the second book. She’s also immortal, but that’s mostly because she’s a phoenix. In form of a chicken, by choice (in that universe phoenix can choose their form when they are reborn). Onii is very chaotic neutral. Onii is isfp and very chaotic neutral. 

Finally, Timbre. Timbre will be the POV character of the last book. She’s the only survivor (in the strict sense) of a war that destroyed her whole continent, killed her people and changed nature there forever (think of it as sth like a magical nuclear bomb). She survived for a few months with the help of dubious gods (the aunae) before the Observer found and saved her (despite having other orders). Timbre is INTJ and chaotic good. 

They’re all very chaotic :P

7. Who is their closest ally?

All three are each other’s closest allies, and also the Observer. This will change throughout the series, however, as Selandri and Timbre will go seperate ways and finally see each other again, but on different sides. 

8. Who is their enemy?

I prefer antagonist? In this book, at first it’s mostly the Aeqana/Librarians (Selandri’s parents etc) because they aren’t used to children, and especially not their pranks. Later on some people on a surviving continent from the world Timbre is from, originally. 

9. What do they want more than anything?

On the surface, Timbre strives for knowledge, Selandri for adventure, and Onii for chaos. 

Deep down, though, Timbre and Selandri just want each other, and Onii wants them both to be happy.

10. Why can’t they have it?

Because they only realize that when it’s too late... 

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

Selandri thinks that she’ll always be second choice after Timbre, and Timbre thinks that she’s evil deep down and that everyone close to her gets hurt. Onii thinks she’s a horrible parent. Or something. 

12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

I will, one day, but today is not that day. I have a wip of Onii, though (sorry instagram crew, I still haven’t gotten further than this :’D but it’s more than what you saw?...), and moodboards (including face-claims) for both Selandri and Timbre.

(it’s far from finished and the bright feather will be somewhat less bright later on, I guess)

PLOT POINTS

13. What is the internal conflict?

Selandri struggles mostly with her self-worth, and Timbre struggles heavily with survivor’s guilt, and feeling as if she should’ve died with everyone else. 

Also both of them feel like they don’t deserve the other.

Onii is generally carefree and loves pranking people (she’s very chaotic neutral) but she struggles with taking care of these two strange children, mostly because they love pranking others as much as she does but now she’s supposed to be the mature one?! After she’s spent the last millennia doing nothing else? Tsk!

14. What is the external conflict?

Librarians who haven’t been children for a long time not understanding that children need free time and having fun, especially not these children. Many raised eyebrows, and many punishments. 

Later on, when they leave the Library for the first time, the people outside, and their strange customs... and what they might have had to do with the Broken Continent’s past. 

15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?  

To lose each other (for all three)

What they think:

Selandri - to become a Librarian and spend the rest of her days inside, cataloguing and transcribing knowledge collected from outside by other people. 

Timbre - to be forced into some kind of destiny she doesn’t want by the Aunae and/or the Observer. 

Onii - to be responsible for something that hurt Timbre/..., or to be incapable of stopping something like that. Also to never be allowed to prank anyone again.

16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

Not telling you anything! Many. ;) Some only in later books. 

17. Do you know how it ends?  

Yesssssssssss but I won’t tell you

BITS AND BOBS

18. What is the theme?  

Trees/plants, dragons, art/music, books/knowledge....

Freedom of choice, survivor’s guilt, the horrors of war, having hope even in the darkest of times (hopepunk), lgbt+, love, friendship, post-apocalyptic setting, the merits and woes of technology (as in, the continent that survived is very futuristic, combination of science and magic), racism, religion(s), nature, exclusionism; ...

....I’ll need to invest more time here :P

19. What is a recurring symbol?  

See above. 

20. Where is the story set? (Share a description!)

There is one world called Ferreske. The Broken Continent exists there, as do the other continents that didn’t get struck during the War. One of those will be visited, and it’s a capitalistic, futuristic hellscape society driven by a mixture of magic and technology. 

The Broken Continent is devoid of human life. The Aunae have taken it over, more or less (they’re sort of tree gods) and they’ve changed the wildlife physically to survive the new conditions. During the War the enemy triggered a sort of “nuclear bomb” that killed everything in a 300 mile radius instantly, and set loose something the Aunae call the Radiancy, which nowadays kills everything else within about eight hours, unless you’re a plant (or the Observer). Which is why the wildlife has changed into a sort of plant/animal hybrid. Timbre’s people (some of them) prayed to the Aunae to save them when they felt the change in the air, so they got turned into trees. All children under a certain age were "protected” by the Aunae, like Timbre...except she escaped while she was still more or less herself, in contrast to everyone else. Also, the radiancy leaches away colours, so the Broken Continent is called the Grey Continent by some people. And Timbre is colourblind because of it. 

Then there’s the Library, which is its own world/realm, and also sentient. In the Library there are all kinds of knowledge. Timbre and Selandri grow up in the book part of it, but there is also an art section, music section, etc. It’s probably endless and holds a huge variety of knowledge, and peoples with different ways of life and clashing viewpoints. It’s a sort of sanctuary, I guess? The Observer is more or less the founder (but she’s lost control over it centuries ago). 

Some people are very angry that not everyone can enter/find the Library. Exclusionism will also be discussed, I guess.. but later on, when the protagonists are older. 

21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

I’ve planned the first book during NaNo, for the most part. I’m currently at ~60K of usable words (which will still have to be cut drastically), and I haven’t even “really” started :’D But yup, I know a lot of what’s going to happen. Not in detail, but enough. Especially two really mean scenes >:D

22. What excited you about this story?  

I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT, IT HAS DRAGONS AND MAGIC AND MUSIC AND TREES AND I LOVE THE CHARACTERS AND THE WORLD(S) AND ALSDKJFSKDJFSLDJFSLDJFSD I can’t wait!!!!!! :’D It’s basically me mashing everything I like into one and then hoping to get a decent story out of it. 

But first I need to finish Dreams and Shadows ;w;

23. Tell us about your usual writing method!  

I spend one NaNoWriMo writing things without knowing anything about the story except for my tumblr into post. Then, halfway during NaNo, I start having some ideas for the rest of the project, I plan some things, change and rewrite some other things, and then NaNo is over when I know roughly what I want to do.

Then I procrastinate far too much, before getting back into it with more of a plan than before. Then I write the first draft/draft zero, which is mostly me trying to find out what works and what doesn’t (and what the characters want/don’t want to do o_O) -- which I then print out, and kill with a red pen. Also I’ll probably give it to some people who don’t mind the rambling and all that. 

Then I rewrite it for the most part, so it’s (1) shorter and (2) better. That is usually the “actual” draft 1, which I’ll spend a lot of time revising and editing, but not rewriting on a large scale. I hope that this time I will finally write it all in one go, and not: write some chapters, rewrite what I’ve already written, add a few more chapters, rewrite everything again, rinse, repeat-- 

I’ve never gotten further than that, yet, but my other wip, Dreams and Shadows, is almost done with the second draft (the first half got revised quite a lot, while the second half didn’t. I’ve also already had people read the first half. Which was actually helpful for that thing as it’s a standalone... I HAVE THREE SCENES LEFT BEFORE THE SECOND DRAFT IS DONE). 

I hope that I can write LDOO in one go, though :’D

I guess I’ll just tag the LDOO crew for this, and maybe some others?? wow, I’ve gotten so lazy :’D 

@dramaticvoiceover @asttralhell @authordai @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad @importance-of-being-crazy @madmoonink @prismalicht @romenna @fynniana @sincerestaffect @writin-maaagic @random-stuff-thrown-into-a-pot @raiswanson @zekethegm @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword @stephrawlingwrites @kittensartsbooks @annelaurant-writing @lady-redshield-writes @wolfdancer333 @bmariewinter

@lynnafred @corishadowfang @writingwordsanddrawingpictures @amongwriters 

I love learning more about wips but this does eat up a lot of time so I totally understand if you don’t want to :’D

#ldoo #siarvenart #tag game #tagging game #wip tag game #ok i like this tag game because it forced me to make up so much stuff on the go :P #i'd best copy this whole thing into scrivener asap XD #long post

[yuki-setsu]

[New] Painful Nights, Sleepless Awakenings

hi hello please accept this while i meager up the strength to finish up my WIP;;; wrote this for an event called Langst Palooza (@langstpalooza), so take the chance to check out the other great works people will be putting out!!

there should be 4 chapters and i’ll be posting every friday until it’s complete ^^ (lord i hope the cut works i don’t want to clog people’s dashes T__T) 

it’ll also be updating on AO3 if you read on there! the full collection for the stories that’ll be part of this event can also be found here! 😃

Summary: A potential alliance gone wrong lands Lance at the receiving end of a curse that makes him experience unbearable pain whenever he tries to sleep. Unfortunately, trying to shrug it off and deal with it on his own might bring consequences that become too heavy to bear.

Forging alliances usually went smoothly.

It tended to be a simple affair: make contact with a peaceful planet with the intent of bringing them under the protection of Voltron, and then go for a face-to-face meeting once they got approval to land. Some took more persuading than others, having faced the horrific realities of Galra strikes and the Empire's suffocating influence. But most of the time, they came around and things were resolved amicably, sometimes even with a celebration.

Lance found the planet of Xa'Qar nice. Kind of dreary and too warm at first glance, but he thought the tranquil and steady ambience was comforting. It reminded him of days where he napped on the beach back on Earth, the sun soaking warm rays in his skin and the waves crashing in his ears.

He glanced around at the looming tree-like plants that seemed to span the entirety of the area the team was passing through. The Xa'Qans had agreed to meeting for a possible alliance, and Allura had landed the Castle in the one open patch of land they could find closest to the small village the species resided in. The planet was like a big, warm jungle. Except all of the trees were as tall as redwood, and weird yellow ginkgo-looking leaves covered every inch of what would usually be bark.

“These things look like huge, fluffy French Fries,” Lance said, reaching out a hand to gingerly touch the leaves of another tree they passed.

“They are called Zensag.” The Xa'Qan replied. A guide had been waiting for the team at the landing point, calmly greeting them before guiding them down a path towards their civilization. “They grow even without direct care from us, but they provide much to our people. Their leaves are used with other ingredients for effective remedies, their wood helps us create our homes, and they bear fruit that can feed many.”

“They look incredible.” Allura chimed in politely, earning a small nod from the guide.

Lance hummed, lightly bumping shoulders with Hunk once in a while as they walked side-by-side down the path. Shiro, Keith, and Pidge were walking just ahead, but they trekked on silently, too exhausted for small talk. There had been an Galra raid in the middle of the night on a planet not too far from Xa'Qar and two other separate emergencies throughout the day before they'd finally come here in the evening for the alliance talk, leaving most of them running on—at most—5 hours of sleep. No one was really in the mood to expend any more unnecessary energy.

“We are here,” the guide announced, stopping in front of a large arch, a clear division between the end of the forest and the beginning of the Xa'Qan's home. The houses, needless to say, were... yellow. Turns out the wood of the Zensag were as bright as its leaves.

For some reason, the guide chose to wait until they all navigated to the small hut in the heart of the city to announce that the leader preferred to have small company during negotiations, resulting in just Allura and Shiro heading inside to talk. The rest of them were told that they could “explore the village as they wished”, but the guide hesitated for a moment before adding, “we advise that you disregard anything the witch doctor says should she approach you.” They ducked inside the hut before anyone could fully process the statement.

Lance had no idea what they meant, and quite frankly, the words sounded a bit worrying despite the calm and brief manner in which the warning was delivered. How were they supposed to even know who the witch doctor was, anyways? He doubted this planet held the same stereotypical interpretation of what a witch was imagined to look like back on Earth, with her green skin, pointed hat, and smoking cauldron. He leaned over to voice the question to the team, but found that everyone else had already dispersed. Pidge and Hunk were busy fawning over a snack offering of what looked like warm biscuits brought over by a young Xa'Qan, and Keith had opted to linger and keep watch near the leader's hut, so Lance headed over towards a pair of Xa'Qans that were quietly watching under the shade of another home.

“How are you?” He started brightly, keeping what he felt was an appropriate distance for a first encounter. “The name's Lance, also known as the incredible Blue Paladin of Voltron. But the pleasure's mine.”

The pair seemed to neither accept or reject his introduction, simply staring at him with their hazel eyes. All of them seemed to have the same eyes, he realized—piercing but accented against the dark brown of their skin. The only thing that distinguished them—asides from their outfits—were their ears, which looked like the equivalent of large, floppy dog ears that drooped down to brush against the top of their shoulders. The color of their ears seemed to differ with each Xa'Qan, even similar shades having a slightly different hue.

The extended silence had Lance shifting uncomfortably. “Uh, sorry. Was that rude?”

One of the Xa'Qans finally responded with a slight shake of their head, donning a small grin as their gray ears jostled with the movement. “It was not. We have just not met an outsider who acts as... familiarly as you.”

“Oh.” Lance smiled again, the tension in his shoulders receding. “Well, when it comes to making conversation, you can say I'm the best Paladin for the job. Love the planet, by the way. Very, uh, yellow and warm.”

The green-eared Xa'Qan straightened slightly, perking up at his words. “We take very good care of it, and it us. We let the trees grow and prosper throughout the days, and we work in the nights to harvest and collect wood.”

Lance tilted his head. “Wow, busy workers. When do you all sleep, then?”

It was the gray-eared Xa'Qan's turn to puff up their chest, a smug look on their face. “We do not need sleep to function. We are always awake.”

Lance blinked, not sure if he heard right. “You...don't sleep? At all?” His eyes widened at their nods, a smile growing on his own face. “You don't feel tired ever? That's insane! In a good way, I mean!”

“The most exhaustion we will feel is from overwork, but that is easily overcome by sitting for a short time and eating to regain energy.” The green-eared Xa'Qan was speaking animatedly, her eyes shining. “After so many tries, we can finally use every dobash possible to commit ourselves to prospering as a village.”

The question was already lodged in Lance's throat, and he couldn't stop himself from asking. “Wait, 'so many tries'? Does that mean your species wasn't born not needing sleep?”

The conversation reached a lull, neither of the Xa'Qan's scrambling to speak this time. They exchanged a quick glance before the gray-eared one cleared their throat. “You could say it was an...improvement. Our village gained the ability through the mixture of an herbal concoction and some...witchcraft.” Their face grew dark at the last word, and Lance had the nagging sense not to press further on the subject.

But before he could even find a topic to switch to, another voice rang out from the side, low and ragged. “Not witchcraft, but magic.” He glanced over to see a small hooded figure standing a good few feet away, their form hunched and obscuring their appearance completely. “Good magic, bad magic, stolen magic.”

One of the Xa'Qan let out a noise of disgust, and Lance looked to see them already inching away from the newcomer. They met Lance's gaze, giving him a curt nod before turning in the opposite direction. “We will be leaving now. Be well, Blue Paladin.” They left almost too quickly, heading towards the middle of the village where Hunk and the others still were.

Lance stared at their retreating figures, a bit dumbfounded before he blinked and turned back around to see if the figure was still there. They were, and even though their head was ducked, Lance felt like their eyes were trained solely on him. It was an uncomfortable sensation that crawled up his spine like spiders.

“Blue Paladin,” the figure croaked, as if they hadn't spoken properly in ages. “Blue. You are indeed blue. Come a little closer.”

He took a step forward reflexively before freezing, a bit of uncertainty tickling his chest. “Uh, are you... Are you the witch doctor?”

“I am no witch.” The form hissed, practically bristling under the large robe. “I am a doctor, yet they call me a witch. Even though they live this way due to me.”

'Disregard anything the witch doctor says should she approach you', the guide had said.

Lance shifted his weight from side to side, not knowing how to exactly approach the situation. After a few seconds, he opted to smile, trying to look as friendly as he could. “Okay, doctor it is. I'm guessing you mean you were the one who helped them achieve this 'no sleep needed' thing?”

For a moment, the figure didn't respond. But then she straightened up, letting her hood fall back to reveal an aged face lined with wrinkles and black ears. Even with that appearance, Lance had a feeling that she was even older than she seemed. But what unsettled him the most was her expression. It was angry, haunted, bitter—a stark contrast from the peaceful and quiet vibe the other Xa'Qan's gave off.

“Yes. My biggest accomplishment, my biggest mistake.” She growled, creeping closer. Lance fought down the urge to back away, although he was ready to bolt for it if things got out of hand. “Do not trust this village. They took everything from me for themselves.” She was right in front of him now, her height just barely reaching up to his chest.

“Lance, whatcha doing over there?” Hunk's voice drifted in before he draped an arm over Lance's shoulders, happily oblivious. “Look, you gotta try this Zensag bread. I swear it tastes like oatmeal cookies.” His voice tapered off for a second, realizing Lance hadn't been alone. “Oh. Hello.”

Lance took the bread from Hunk's hand, choosing to save it for later. “Thanks, buddy. This is, uh, the village doctor? Hey, did you know that they don't—”

“What do you seek on this planet?” The Xa'Qan cut in, voice low.

The question threw both Lance and Hunk for a loop. Lance couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a trick question, or if she genuinely had no idea why they were here.

Hunk recovered first, a confused noise at the back of his throat. “Um, Voltron's alliance with this planet, I guess? I mean, the Princess and our leader are still in talks with your leader, but yeah.”

The witch-doctor's eyes flashed, an almost deadly look creeping across her face. “You wish to ally with this village? They will only take. Never give. Bad beings. If you negotiate with them, you are no better than they.”

Lance straightened up slightly, suddenly glad Hunk was there with him as support. “Look, I don't know what you have against the village, but Voltron just wants to provide protection for the planet should it ever come under threat by the Galra.” He could feel Hunk's hand still on his shoulder, the slight anxiety dancing off his fingertips. “We fight the bad guys, defend the universe, all that jazz.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, and her face twisted into one of raw anger. “You wish to protect them? Then you are even worse.” Her hand whipped out, reaching for Lance's wrist. “You will regret saying such vile words.”

Her fingers had barely brushed the top of his armor, and it should have been impossible for him to feel the fleeting contact at all. But he felt it, a slight twinge sparking across the area like a burst of static electricity, as if she'd touched his bare skin. It wasn't painful, but Lance jerked his arm back in surprise. Hunk jumped at the movement, already stepping backwards as he used his arm to drag Lance with him.

“Uh, I think I hear our teammates calling us.” Hunk laughed nervously, voice high. “We'll be leaving now.”

The witch-doctor said nothing as Hunk led Lance away, although the boiled anger in her gaze already spoke plenty. Lance finally forced himself to turn around, swallowing down the mild panic that had been rushing up his throat as they reached the front of the leader's hut again. Keith was still propped against the yellow home, arms crossed and a bored expression on his face. He raised an eyebrow when the two approached, but he said nothing as Hunk came to a stop, letting out a large sigh.

“That was... kinda creepy.”

Lance nodded, the spot on his armor that the Xa'Qan had touched feeling...oddly exposed, even though his armor was still fully covering what it should. He couldn't understand why she'd been so angry, but suddenly, this planet started feeling a bit more unpleasant than peaceful.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye before someone snatched at the bread that had still been lying in Lance's hand. He glanced over to catch Pidge shoving the last few bits into her mouth, a triumphant grin on her face.

“You snooze, you lose. Should've eaten it when you had the chance.” She sing-sang. Her smile faltered slightly when she caught Lance's expression. “Did something happen?”

A door opened before he could reply, and all eyes landed on Allura and Shiro as they made their way back out of the hut. Allura was smiling, but the strain in it was poorly hidden. Shiro hadn't even bothered, looking more than a bit disgruntled as he followed behind her. No Xa'Qan accompanied them out.

“Paladins,” Allura started, her voice excessively upbeat. “Let us head back to the Castle. We will debrief once we've taken off.”

From the looks of it, the talks clearly didn't go well. Everyone followed along silently, and Lance took a chance to see if the witch-doctor was still there as they headed back towards the forest. She wasn't.

By the time everyone had filed into the Castle, Allura had stopped looking cordial, a scowl on her face as she set the ship for a course back up into space. They were gathered on the bridge, standing awkwardly with Coran as they waited for a sort of explanation, one Shiro clearly wasn't tripping over himself to offer.

“So...” Hunk said slowly. “The alliance...?”

“Is not happening.” Allura answered flatly. “Our ideals and methods simply did not align, so it was bound to not reach fruition.” She turned around at the heavy silence, an apologetic smile on her face. “Do not be too down. Our goal is still the same. We will continue to expand Voltron's protection with planets that seek our help. We are not guaranteed to be accepted by all of them.”

“The Princess is right,” Coran piped up brightly. “We've all had a long day, I think we all deserve a good rest for now. Good work today, Paladins.”

The team mumbled in acknowledgment before they all headed towards the kitchen for some food. They'd been so busy that they'd barely eaten all day. But somehow, Lance somehow didn't feel that hungry. His mind kept flashing back to that witch-doctor, so resentful and overflowing with anger. His wrist tickled again, but he ignored it.

That night, Lance woke up to the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his life. It was like knives scraping at the insides of his body, the pain radiating throughout so violently it jolted him out of the slow tendrils of sleep in an instant. He pushed himself upright, practically tearing both the eye mask and headphones off and tossing them to the side in his panic. What was hell?

His head felt like it was threatening to split open any second, not helping the almost burning sensation that was dragging across the rest of his body. But as soon as it started, it seemed to ebb away, like a slow and receding tide. He doubted it at first, thinking that the pain was just so great it was numbing out his senses, but no, it was definitely going away. It didn't take more than 30 seconds before Lance was sitting in the dark with nothing but a cold sweat and slight shudders that ran down his skin with each heavy breath. His throat felt raw. Had he screamed? He couldn't remember.

Blue was fuzzy in his mind, her concern washing over him. He glanced down, placing a shaky hand against his chest where the pain had felt the greatest. Then checked under his shirt to make certain that he didn't actually have some sort of injury. There was nothing, and Lance was starting to think he just had some sort of crazily realistic nightmare. That had to be it—there was no other explanation.

His heart rate was still well above the norm by the time he'd retrieved his eye mask and Pidge's headphones (they hadn't broken, thankfully—Pidge would've killed him), and he opted for a few breathing exercises before he let himself lie back down.

The second time around, he woke up to the same excruciating pain almost immediately, and this time he didn't even have the energy to sit up and recover his senses. He pressed his face against the pillow, screaming into it as his hands gripped at the fabric so tightly it might have torn. But the same thing was happening. The moment his mind began to jolt awake and reorient itself, the pain was already beginning to fizzle out like a dying flame. Only when it seemed to have completely disappeared did he finally release his death grip on the pillow, rolling onto his side. The headphone pressed uncomfortably against his ear, and he took them off a bit more gently this time, placing them next to him as he removed the eye mask and blinked blearily at his darkened room.

Something was wrong. He had no idea what was going on. Was he sick? He felt fine now, though. Shaken up, but fine. He pushed himself upright again, pressing his hands gingerly against his stomach. Felt it rise with each unsteady breath he took. Why did he feel so normal now? All he could remember was waking up both times to—

He blinked. Now that he thought about it, the pain left nearly as soon as he woke up. As if it only seemed to trigger once he fell asleep. A shudder passed through his body, settling into an uneasy weight in his chest. That almost sounded like a curse...

An image of the witch-doctor flashed through his mind for a quick second, but he swallowed down the sudden panic. No, he was overthinking this. It sounded crazy. It was crazy. Even still, his stomach lurched at the idea of trying to go to sleep again, of having to relive that sort of rude awakening a third time.

He didn't sleep that night, sitting against the wall of his bed as he thought about blue oceans and orange sunsets.

                                                        (Hour 28)

All-nighters never came easy for Lance. Sleep was important—vital—both for healthy skin and a healthy mind. If given the chance, Lance avoided all-nighters like the plague. Usually, it never came to that extreme, and he always managed a few hours of sleep in between late night Galra attacks and distress calls from nearby planets. But as morning crept around, Lance wondered how Pidge managed all of her sleepless nights. His body felt particularly heavy as he slumped against the wall, wishing he could sink into his bed and be wrapped into a warm cocoon. It was so tempting, the idea of curling back under the blankets and drifting off, even though it was the completely wrong time to do so.

Lance sighed, pushing himself onto his feet as he rubbed at his eyes. The room's lights felt brighter than usual—he'd turned them on halfway through the night to keep himself awake—and he trudged to the bathroom with heavy steps.

What was wrong with him? He had no idea, and he had no idea how to explain to anyone if he tried to bring it up. He hurt whenever he tried to fall asleep? He didn't know how to describe it if anyone asked; the sensation felt too visceral in a way that words seemed to fall short of portraying it accurately. Maybe it was just a psychological thing. But how does he fix something like that?

He figured it might wear off. He hoped, at least. Then maybe later through the day, he'd be able to nap without any of his current worries. It sounded optimistic, almost too optimistic, but Lance was desperate for anything that would help him get through the day. Hopefully they wouldn't have to do anything that required a lot of concentration—he could barely focus on one thing at a time.

After he'd gotten ready and headed down for breakfast, he wasn't surprised to see he was the last one to arrive. The others were already seated, in various stages of finishing their bowl while they shared idle chatter amongst themselves. Hunk was the first to catch his eye when he walked in, his smile slipping into something more concerned by the time Lance got close enough to slide into the seat next to him.

“Dude...” Hunk started hesitantly. “You look kinda...”

“Terrible?” Lance supplied, eyes shut as he slumped against the chair. “Worse for wear? Like a dried up plant?”

There was a small clatter, and Lance peeked an eye open to see Hunk grabbing a bowl that Shiro passed over the table before placing it in front of his seat. “Yeah, basically,” Hunk said, a slight grin on his face. “Trouble sleeping last night?”

The question brought back the current reality of his situation back with startling clarity, jerking Lance out of his drowsiness. He straightened up, grumbling as he reached for the bowl of space goo. “Don't get me started. I didn't sleep at all.”

Across the table, Pidge made a slight noise, almost surprised. “You pulled an all-nighter? That's new.” She'd already finished her bowl, one hand propping her head up as she stared at him lazily. One look was enough for him to tell that she didn't get much sleep, either. Although that was probably out of poor life choices, not whatever he was dealing with. “What were you doing up?”

Lance picked at his bowl, his appetite failing to rouse him enough to eat. He could hardly remember last night, his memory a blur of bright lights and hazy thoughts. It was exhausting just to try and recall the past few hours, so he gave up, opting to focus on the weird texture of the food in his bowl as he mixed the spoon around. It was gross, but it kept him awake.

“Uh, hello?” Hunk's voice suddenly cut in, and Lance startled at the hand waving in front of his eyes. “Earth to Lance? Don't tell me you fell asleep.”

Lance blinked, looking up to see the rest of the table had quieted down, all staring at him after Hunk's question. He felt the heat rising to his face, shaking his head as he sat up, the spoon all but abandoned in his bowl. “I didn't, I was just... thinking. I probably just had trouble sleeping because I wasn't feeling that great last night.”

Hunk's brow furrowed, eyes scanning even more closely. “Maybe you're sick?” He raised a hand towards Lance's forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

Lance batted the hand away, clicking his tongue. “I'm fine. No fever. Not sick. Nada. Don't mind me.”

“We will be training around one varga after we finish eating and preparing,” Allura said, watching him carefully. “Are you sure you will be alright?”

Just the thought of having to train had his body groan with exhaustion, but Lance forced himself to nod, a tight smile on his face. “Don't worry, Princess. Nothing I can't handle. Appreciate the concern, though.”

He was glad no one pressed much further, although Lance grew acutely aware of the subtle glances people threw his way, as if they were expecting him to fall asleep in his food. Not a far off possibility, but Lance wasn't going to let that happen. The last thing he needed was to wake up screaming in the middle of breakfast and freak everyone out. So Lance ignored the fatigue pressing at the back of his eyes, shoveling down a few spoonfuls of food at Hunk's insistence.

He'd deal with it after training.

#langst #voltron #vld #lance mcclain #lance #keith #shiro #pidge #hunk #allura #coran #my writing

[kewltie]

“Otou-san!” Izuku says excitedly, running head first down the stone pathway to the man standing at the end of it with the skirt of his kimono trailing after him.

He abruptly stops several feet away from his father and remembers his mother’s words: Midoriya Hisashi is his lord first before he is Izuku’s father. He drops his head in a low bow, folding his hands in front of his stomach, and recalls the lines his mother had carefully taught him earlier. “My Lord Father,” he recites from memory, “Izuku is happy to finally meet you once more and wishes you well—”

Izuku next words is swallow by a squeal as his father scoops him up in his arms. “Oh my little Chou, how I’ve miss you,” Hishashi coos, planting his lips all over Izuku’s cheek.

Izuku giggles against the sloppy kisses. “No, Otou-san! I’m not a baby anymore,” he insists.

“Of course not,” Hisashi says with a smile, “because even as far as the southern lands of Chairo I have heard of your great achievement. Imagine my utter joy to hear the whisper that you have stolen the heart of the young dragon of the Bakugou Clan right under their very nose.” He laughs boisterously as he swings Izuku around in delight. “My son doing something not even years of my spy network hard at work could even hope have dealt such huge blow to the Kurenai. You are truly my pride and joy.”

Izuku wrinkles his nose. “What dragon?” he asks in puzzlement. “I didn’t hurt a dragon did I?” Izuku looks pain by that prospect. Ever since he has been taken from Midori to Kurenai since he was three with his mother and is only allow to meet his father once every two months under a full moon like this, Izuku hasn’t step foot outside of his estate except on a few occasions. He definitely did not meet any dragon let alone steal any heart.

“Oh you did more than just that,” Hisashi says, his smile grows to a full blown grin now.

Inko runs down to greet them with a desperate edge to her steps. “My lord,” his mother implores urgently next to them once she’s there, “they say our Izuku have bewitched the prince and he’s only seven. If the Kurenai consider Izuku a threat to their kingdom, they will—”

Hisashi gently places Izuku on his hip as one of his arm circles around Izuku’s back to hold him there as he stares at Izuku’s distressed mother. “They wouldn’t dare,” he says placidly even though his grips on Izuku has tighten enough that Izuku can feel the indentation of his father’s fingers against his flesh. “Izuku and you are the only reason I haven’t turn the spearhead of my army to the center of Kurenai and laid waste to their entire kingdom myself.”

The words of his parents are confusing and are layers with meaning that Izuku still can’t completely wrapped his head around at this age but he knows that Kurenai is Katsuki’s home and that Katsuki is Kurenai as much as Kurenai is Katsuki.

“No, Otou-san! Kacchan is my friend,” Izuku cries out suddenly, eyes welling up with tears. “I don’t want you to hurt him.”

“Of course he is and I wouldn’t hurt him,” Hisashi agrees affably enough, gentlyl wipping away Izuku’s tears, “because you my dear little Chou will do it for me from the inside. You alone hold the heart of the dragon prince and that make you the key to my plan.”

His mother audible gasp of horror cuts through the still air. “My lord, you can’t mean to use Izuku like that! He’s just a kid.”

“Don’t worry Inko, I will take Izuku’s wish into consideration but my son is nobody’s consort—a pretty ornamental piece at that,” Hisashi spits out. “Bakugou Katsuki may promise him the entirety of Kurenai but I will give Izuku all of Japan.”

#bakudeku #fic teaser #fic: butterfly pinned under glass #my weird ass psuedo historical japan au #with abo elements and warring states :P #or in which no adults are innocent in this #and poor those kids :((((

[coutelier]

Have a nice but fairly long extract from the current draft of my WIP:

Kaya didn’t know how much further they had to go. The building they were in was huge, bigger than it had appeared from outside as several floors were below ground. When they turned the next corner she decided to try a different strategy and just distract Jen by being silly.

“You think they have GM foods here?” She asked. “Like taking tomatoes and giving them mouths and making them carnivorous?”

Jennifer looked at her strangely. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Because they can,” Kaya shrugged, “maybe their plan is to turn all the poor into rabid tomatoes so they eat each other. That’s what my mom suspects. She only ever buys organic.”

Jen sighed, rolled her eyes and uttered, “your mom’s an idiot.”

“Well, yeah,” Kaya conceded. “She’s still my mom, so, you know…”

It worked though. Tales of Kaya’s mom’s paranoid reactionary ideas always shocked and amused Jennifer. “Okay, but, even if they did breed rabid tomatoes you wouldn’t become a tomato by eating them. You don’t take on the genetic traits of things you eat or through history people eating chicken would have grown feathers and started laying eggs. You don’t literally become what you eat.”

“I don’t know. I just licked a toad once and I was hopping around for hours afterward.”

Jennifer snorted, her lips suddenly becoming very tight and she struggled to stifle her laugh.

“What’s that?” Kaya nudged. “Is that a giggle trying to break out there?”

“Shut up,” Jen sniffed. “You’re distracting me. Besides, I think we’re here.”

Sure enough, before them were double doors over which were the initials ELF. Once again Jen made short work of the electronic lock and beyond was a room that at first glance didn’t seem much more impressive than a science room in any school. There were a few lockers, computers, sinks, little racks filled with tubes, a refrigerator filled with jars that probably Kaya shouldn’t pinch no matter how hungry she was. There was one thing that stood out - a pentagon shaped console in the middle of the floor with a cylinder extending from it all the way to the ceiling.

“What is it?” Kaya asked as Jen hovered around the console squinting at all the buttons and data flashing by on little monitors embedded inside. After a moment she pressed some of the buttons and the cylinder peeled away, sliding into the console itself to reveal a glass tube filled with water. And within the water am ethereal purple leaf about the size of one of the women that just gently swayed as bubbles formed then floated up and disappeared. On closer inspection the leaf was made up of many fronds branching from a central stalk, so it was in fact more like a feather. “Okay,” Kaya nodded. “So, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Jen admitted. “It’s not a plant. There’s no photosynthesis happening in there. But it is alive. It’s kind of like a Charnia - a fractal life-form from the Pre-Cambrian era.”

Kaya understood that meant very old and probably extinct. “So is it a clone or something?”

“Unlikely. That creature lived hundreds of millions of years ago,” Jennifer was a moment lost in though and awe of the seemingly impossible creature. “Maybe this is a replica. An actual, living recreation. That’s synthetic biology - instead of just modifying an existing organism they made this one from scratch. It’s fascinating, but I had no idea anyone had gotten this far with it…”

It was obvious from how she looked that Jen was quite taken with the thing, but honestly it was just a big purple feather to Kaya seemed pretty inert. “That’s great and all, but I don’t see what this can have to do with the invisible stalkers out there.”

“If their bio-engineering is already this advanced then maybe they’ve taken it further,” Jen nodded to another set of doors opposite the ones they’d entered. “We should go deeper.” She swept away from the console to march boldly onwards, wires and tablet ready. Only to stop, dumbfounded. Kaya asked what was wrong and Jen stammered, “i-it… It’s locked…”

“So unlock it.”

“I mean it’s lock-locked. It needs an actual, physical key.”

Kaya looked. No keypads, no fingerprint or hand or iris scanners. Just a keyhole and through it maybe the answers they sought. Kaya laughed, “what was it, years you said studying all the security systems? All those gadgets and hacking, but you didn’t think you might just need a key?”

Jennifer clearly knew she was being made fun of and desperately looked for a way to save her beetroot face. “Maybe we can pick it,” she said, reaching into her coat. “I’m sure I have some pins and a hair-clip somewhere…”

But Kaya knew that was futile. “You’ll never pick it with those. If I had my tools,” she sighed. That was on her of course. She should have thought ahead and been prepared for this eventuality too instead of leaving it all to Jennifer. Maybe there was something in the lab…

Jennifer stared at her and asked, “so you’re a locksmith now?”

“Something like that. Sure,” Kaya looked around and wondered how someone so smart could be so stupid.

#writing #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #science fiction #sci-fi & fantasy

[chillihansol]

Next Tuesday ; H O S H I

[ college!soonyoung x college!reader ]

word count: 1653 genre: fluff a/n: hi lovely friends, if you have sent a req on me and you’re wondering if i received it or not, i have a page of my wip and you can all check there your sent reqs. anyways, i hope yall love this one bc i did HAHA

24:  “Who’s he?” 48:  “Do you prefer coffee or tea date?”

The room was filled with peace, strangely lightening up my mood. Sun rays passing through the window, the quiet buzz of the ceiling fans, freshly erased chalkboard, neatly stacked papers on the desk, perfectly arranged chairs, and the almost inaudible murmurs of the students coming from the gym. I let out a breath full of relaxation. But the very peaceful atmosphere was interrupted when the very famous Kwon Soonyoung passed by the room. He glanced at me without any expression, before he turned away and was completely nowhere to be seen.

I felt my heart crunch at the sight of him. Soonyoung’s very much known in the campus for his kindness and charisma. Every time I see him hanging out with his friends by the canteen, the squeals coming from the mouths of college girls was never music to my ears. Everyone adores him for his talent and his godly treatment towards the others. He’s basically not the type of person you’ll hate for the rest of your life because he doesn’t deserve it. Even the professors like him for his politeness and everything. In summary, no one dislikes him.

He’s friends with these twelve other boys, not the same age as him, but I’m sure there’s four of them born at the same year. I know it because I’ve had a class with them, and to be honest, they’re so loud that I can’t even read a single sentence from the textbook. Soonyoung was the loudest. He’s a very enthusiastic person which was probably another reason why everyone loves him. Unfortunately, I’m part of that everyone.

Soonyoung and I have few classes together, and little conversations. Mostly about the home works and project, no more, no less. I’ve seen him in numbered college parties too before, but we never approach each other, just exchanged nods. 

“Why does he have to be so cute and out of league at the same time?” I sighed, whispering to myself. 

“Who’s he?”

I jumped on my seat, completely shocked from the voice that came from behind. When I turned my head, I was more surprised to see Soonyoung looking down at me. 

“I– uhh. It’s uh–”

“Y/N, here’s your coffee!” 

Jun, my best friend, beamed inside the classroom, two cups of coffee in both of his hands, with his black backpack hanging on his right shoulder. He placed one of the cups on my table before noticing Soonyoung’s presence.

“Hoshi, what are you doing here?” He asked, giving each other cool bro fists.

“Jun, I told you to get me tea. Not coffee.” I immediately interrupted.

He turned his head to me, furrowing his brows. “But today’s Tuesday. You get coffee on Tuesdays.”

“But I asked you to get me tea.” I pointed out.

When he didn’t give me a response, I felt Soonyoung’s awkward presence. He remained standing right beside my chair, waiting for someone to notice him. 

“I’ll leave you both alone. See you later, Jun.” He almost stuttered. Soonyoung turned away, leaving by the back door. 

Jun pulled a chair, placed it beside me before leaning his face close to mine. “What was happening?”

“Jun, oh gosh. Thank you for coming!” I let out the nervousness I’ve been holding. I hung my arm loosely around his shoulder. “I was having my alone time when I saw Soonyoung outside the room and I started thinking about him. I suddenly asked myself how cute and out of reach he was then I didn’t notice he entered the room and asked me who was I talking about.” I found myself rambling. 

The boy sitting next to me was grinning so hard as I narrated him what happened. He sipped the coffee from his hands with a smile still plastered on his beautiful face.

“Oh, I see.” He nodded, with a teasing voice. I squinted my eyes, giving him a light punch on his arm. “You know, Soonyoung is not out of reach. He’s actually very reachable.”

“Everyone on this campus likes him, so there’s like zero percent of winning.” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“Yeah, but he’s my friend and I know him.” He said, cocking his head to the side. The room fell into silence once again, just like how it was earlier. But a few moments after, Jun spoke. “You like him, right?”

“You know the answer.”

“He already likes someone.”

For the second time today, my heart crunched. Of course, he likes someone, someone who is not me. Why would he like me? He’s definitely a ten and I’m a two. I shouldn’t be surprised, and I’m sure whoever that person is must be a ten just like him.

My eyes fell to the poster stuck on the corner of the room. There’s going to be a school dance, which I think sucks when I first heard about it because we’re not high school anymore. I’m sure Hoshi’s going with his partner.

“You’re still going to be my partner for the school dance, right?” I asked Jun, who had been staring at me since earlier.

“Y/N, how many times do I have to remind you of my existing girlfriend?” 

I mentally slapped my face. How could I forget that my best friend is not single anymore? “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting.” I groaned, carefully resting my forehead against the table. “I’m so used to you being single.”

I heard him sigh. “You know I’d go with you–”

“I know, I know.” I interrupted him lazily. I sat up properly. “I guess I’ll just skip school dance then.”

“It’s a requirement for your–”

“I don’t care. I’ll just study hard on that subject.”

“Stop interrupting me.”

“Loser.” I stuck my tongue out. “Why don’t you just set me up on a blind date? I’d be ditching school dance anyways.”

“Do you really want to?”

“Yeah.” I replied without hesitation. “So I can get over on my damn feelings for Hoshi too.”

He smirked at me. “Alright.” He stood up, grabbing his backpack. He hung it back on his shoulder, planting a kiss on my hair before speaking. “Next Tuesday.” He said one last time before exiting the room.

“I wish it will help.” I whispered, staring at the untouched coffee on my desk.

I impatiently tapped my foot against the cemented floor. Apparently, my date’s already twenty minutes late, and I have a very huge feeling that he stood me up already. He should be grateful that I don’t know him or else I would’ve punch him square in the face. And if I find out that Jun set me up with someone he doesn’t know, there’s going to be a war between us.

I glanced at the clock on my wrist, 7:05 pm. The party had started by this time. A couple was running down the hall, rushing towards the gymnasium as I assumed that they were already late for the party. 

When they were out of sight, I let myself sigh, standing up. My date is surely not coming. But as I turned my head, I bumped into a tall body. i looked up to see Soonyoung panting. 

“Soonyoung?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. My car broke down so I have to run all the way from the flower shop up to here.” His shoulders rising and falling as he tried catching his breath. 

My eyes landed at the bouquet of Jasmine flowers, wrapped in a neat brown paper. I looked back at him with a confused expression.

“I’m so confused, sorry.” I blurted out. “But Jun set me up in a blind date–”

“It wasn’t necessarily a blind date because I knew it was you.” He interrupted, smiling down at me. 

“So you’re telling me that…” I trailed off, pointing at him. “Wait, you’re not going to the school dance?”

He hummed in response, shaking his head.

“What a rebel, you’re a dancer.” I opened my mouth in shock and he laughed at me. “I thought you’re going because Jun told me that you like someone. So I assumed you’re going to end up asking them to be your partner.”

“No, that someone happened to like blind dates than school dance.” He grinned at me. “Oh, these are for you.” He said, giving me the bouquet he’s been gripping.

I shyly accepted it, hiding my blushing face with it. I immediately smelled the scent of the flowers, bringing me to cloud nine. “Why is it Jasmine?”

“Because Jun told me that Jasmine tea is your favorite. Of course, i wouldn’t give you a tea for our first date so I bought you a bouquet of the real flower.” He said, pulling my wrist down to have a better view of my face. 

I felt myself slowly falling in love with those words. “Yeah, it’s my favorite tea. I actually want to drink some right now, but it’s Tuesday.” I slightly pouted.

“Is it weird that I find it so cute that you drink coffees on Tuesday?” He laughed, hiding a strand of hair behind my ear. It was him this time who glanced down at his wrist to check the time. “So, do you prefer coffee or tea date?” 

“Tea for Tuesdays.” I smiled widely.

He stuck his arm, offering it like a gentleman. I willingly hung my opposite arm at his, and giggled at his sudden silliness.

“Tea it is!” He announced brightly, making me laugh my heart out. We started walking, leaving the campus behind.

I guess he wasn’t out of my league after all.

#oh gosh i proof read this on google translate #like i was listening to the computer read my work #it worked so well omg #svt #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen drabbles #seventeen texts #seventeen fluff #seventeen au #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #svt hoshi #hoshi fluff #hoshi au #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung au #s.coups #jeonghan #joshua #jun #wonwoo #woozi #dokyeom #mingyu #the8 #seungkwan #vernon #dino