#truly. they said this is one of the tallest characters. back him into a wall <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

what-big-teeth · 2 years

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Linked (Male Krampus x Female Reader, pt. 2)

Thank you all for the reblogs, likes, tags, and more for this story! I hope you enjoy learning more about the mystery of this particular Krampus! Thanks for reading! Female Reader x Male Monster (Krampus) [part 1] tw/warnings: death of a minor character ; lemon at story’s end (see Citrus Scale for more) ; oral s* x, monster s*x, unprotected s*x, size k*nk, bulge k*nk If you had to describe Königburg after being put on the spot, the first word you’d think of is “cozy”. And that isn’t because of the darling, two-storied bed and breakfast Ella reserved your stay at. Even with its fortified walls, stone buildings, and vast, Gothic architecture, Omi’s hometown possesses a lovely charm all its own.

And you’re positive, after touring the sites Königburg had to offer, you’ll be hard-pressed to think of it in any other way. Especially with the lingering sweetness and warmth of the cinnamony, apple strudel settling in your stomach from an early dinner. The sole drawback? The change to the original meet-up location arranged between Ella and your local guide.

“Strange how he suddenly said he couldn’t come to the hotel,” you murmur to your childhood friend. “Did something come up?”

“Yeah. I asked him about it, but he insisted on explaining the change in person. In certain situations, that’d be admirable, but since we’re tourists in a foreign country…”

Your mind quickly completes her unspoken thought: it’s a terrifying setup, no matter how you look at it. At least you both were keen to pack pepper spray before leaving America. Here’s hoping neither of you would need to use it.

The ten minute walk dispels the worst of your nerves as the sun gently sets behind the horizon. In fact, you find it difficult to focus on your worries as you pass by a growing number of cheerful faces, both local and tourist alike. But your general caution remains, as it always does in uncertain situations.

With the help of a few directional signs, you soon stand before the Town Hall Square and on the edge of a snow-dusted wonderland.

Beyond the bundled crowds, evergreen garlands studded with twinkling lights hang from the neat rows of painted, wooden stalls. And high above them on the balconies of the older, historic buildings. Vivid blues, reds, and green stand out against the brown-gray of the cobblestones, highlighting the people browsing the stalls for handcrafted wares. Ornaments, nutcrackers, dolls, puppets, sculptures—little knickknacks and bobbles themed for the holidays, all perfectly arranged with seeming cluttered.

And the smells. Savory spices intermingled with the scent of sweets and other foods native to the area. Instead of overpowering the cold freshness of the winter’s night, both mix together in a seamless way. It’s enough to make your mouth water.

The sights, smells, and sounds are nearly enough to make your head spin. But what truly takes your breath away, standing in the middle of the square, is the tallest evergreen tree you’ve ever seen. It’s simply decorated with freshly fallen snow scattered among its lit branches; no ornaments or tinsel of the sort. Not even an angel or star adorning the top. Yet its beauty isn’t lost on you as you take in the sight. Ella breathes out a reverent “wow”, voicing what you can’t.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

You startle, sucking in a short, cold breath as you and Ella both turn around. The deep yet smooth voice chuckles as you take in its owner. The man is tall, his build reminding you of the smaller strongmen you’d see featured on many sports channels. A warm smile lights up his blue eyes and pale, broad features. A few flakes of snow cling to his light brown hair, which is pulled back into a long braid. Yet oddly enough, unlike you and Ella, the stranger only wears a modest green jacket and blue jeans instead of a heavy coat and pants.

He’s handsome, no doubt about it; but also a little…intimidating?

“Oh!” With a growing smile, Ella is quick to extend one of her gloved hands towards him. “It’s great to finally meet you in person!”

“Likewise,” the man says, shaking her hand. His accent is more noticeable this time around since you’re more aware.

He turns towards you and nods his head, now sporting a grin showcasing just a bit of white teeth. You shove your mitten-clad hands into your coat pocket then glance towards Ella.

“Right, you two haven’t formally met yet. This is Kaspar, our official tour guide during our stay…unless something’s changed?”

With such a build and presence, you can’t see anyone attempting to bother you or Ella as long as he’s around. His sheer height and the need to lift your head just to meet his eyes is proof of that.

“It’s wonderful to put a face to the name Ella has said time and time again,” he tells you.

Kaspar doesn’t offer his hand; just an understanding smile and a nod as you shift back and forth on your booted feet. You’re immensely thankful he doesn’t press the issue.

“Same here,” you say.

He looks towards Ella with a weaker smile. “I’d still love to be your tour guide. It’s just that my father’s health has become a huge concern.”

That statement quickly catches your attention. An awkward silence takes hold of you all, but Kaspar is quick to push onward.

“He’s alright! His condition has been stable for the last month and all of his needs are being met.” He rubs a bare hand against the nape of his neck. “He actually insisted that I come by talking my ear off. He didn’t stop until I was out the door.”

Kaspar’s muttered “stubborn old man” dispels the heavy air, drawing a huff of laughter from you. If Omi were still alive, she and Kaspar’s father would definitely get along.

“As long as you’re sure,” you tell him.

“Very,” he replies, inclining his head. “Since we’re in the middle of the famed Rider’s Market, did you two want to look around?”

“Now we’re talking!” Ella says with a grin. “Let’s go!”

Your group meticulously visits each stall, talking with the respective seller about their wares while Kaspar provides additional information as a local. The temptation to buy, buy, and buy is great, but you and Ella dig in your heels and stick to your pre-planned budget.

In the end, you and she have purchased a few items for yourselves and your family members. With the night in full swing, Kaspar insisted on purchasing three glasses of warm, mulled wine, “the perfect thing to warm up the body on such a cold night”.

“I’d take some cherry schnapps in a heartbeat, but this is just as good,” he says after taking a sip. Ella wrinkles her nose.

“Not for me, thanks. I’ll stick to what I know.” She inclines her head towards you with a hum.

“But she’s used alcohol in her cooking before. In fact, she was thinking of tackling more complex flavors like schnapps.”

You raise a splayed hand and twist it back and forth.

“I’ve only used it a few times and I’m still new to the technique…”

Your doubt doesn’t stop Kaspar’s eyes from lighting up with a smile.

“Still, trying out something new means you’re willing to learn to expand your tastes and opinions. It’s a good quality to have. Others can benefit from that mindset.”

As his gaze meets yours, a pleasant warmth settles in your chest. One that isn’t from the mulled wine. But it’s still welcome. You softly offer your thanks around the rim of your mug before taking another sip, acutely feeling Ella’s prolonged stare.

The rest of the night is spent browsing the stalls until the crowds begin to wane. You both accept Kaspar’s offer to escort you both back to your hotel while chatting about the upcoming itinerary. Ella suggests a few changes based on his knowledge about the town, which you both feel will add more authenticity to your trip.

Once you’re both standing at the hotel’s doorstep, you both bid Kaspar a good night. As you trail after Ella, you glimpse him smiling at you, eliciting that same warm feeling from before.

The next two days are spent touring Königburg and learning more about its rich history. Why the Rider’s Market is called such; the importance of the surrounding city walls; the artistic significance of the altarpiece tucked away inside St. James’s Church. During it all, you notice Kaspar asking for your opinion during each stop, hanging onto your replies. He also stands closer to you, but the lack of distance isn’t unwanted with the heat he radiates. And judging by Ella’s knowing smile, she’s noticed too.

Even with all the history-centric visits, Kaspar makes sure there’s still plenty of time for more winter merriment.

The fairytale stroll takes your group through the old streets to view many of Königburg’s buildings. And on their windows, you glimpse a number of quotes from an older version of “Beauty and the Beast”. Both you and Ella are enchanted by the layout and the story itself. But towards the end, you notice Kaspar’s lackluster joy once the Beast becomes human again.

“I’m guessing the story isn’t one of your favorites?” you ask.

“Something like that,” he says.

An hour later, at the Outdoor Garden, you and Kaspar are seated at a high-top, wooden table covered by a patio umbrella. Even though he insisted on getting the food and drinks for lunch, Ella swiftly dissuaded him, volunteering for the task instead. All while flashing you that knowing smile. That Kaspar sees.

You bite back a groan. Having your best friend play matchmaker isn’t something you thought would happen during the trip. Sighing, you ready yourself and turn your attention towards him.

“I’m sorry about Ella. My past relationships haven’t panned out so she means well, but…”

“I’m not.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his soft gaze.

“C-come again?”

“You don’t have to apologize for Ella’s behavior. It would be a lie to say I haven’t been glad for her help, especially since I’m rather fond of you.”

Your pulse deepens, steadily increasing as your body grows very aware of what little space there is between you two.

“Really?” Your voice is a horrible squeak you wince at before clearing your throat. “I…I think there is something there, but we haven’t known each other for long, so…”

You trail off, heat bursting from your cheeks at the admittance. This wasn’t what you planned at all. But a slow, gentle touch redirects your focus. Kaspar’s hand settles on top of your, nearly engulfing it. You find yourself staring into deep blue eyes paired with a sadden smile. He murmurs your name.

“You really don’t remember that night, do you?”

“What?”

But Kaspar doesn’t answer. Can’t answer. He doubles over in his seat, his forehead colliding with the tabletop. The loud thud is only noticeable to you due to the live music and singing. You reach over and touch his shoulders, calling out to him. His reedy voice strains out a reply.

“...’m fine. I have to go.”

You’re left clutching at cold air as Kaspar seemingly vanishes. But you catch him bolting around a corner past a throng of cheerful people. You hear Ella call for you; maybe you answer. Maybe she tries to dash after you but loses sight of you. How else are you alone chasing after Kaspar? You pivot around one last corner, hoping to find him. But all that awaits you is the stone side of a building; a dead end.

You pant, eyes darting around for any sign of him.

“Kaspar? Where are you? Kaspar, please—”

A soft, pained groan cuts you off. Just from behind you, down a much smaller passageway that’s so easily missed. Swallowing your nerves, you slowly approach the opening and peer into the shadows. A barely visible shape curls in on itself, releasing the same pained moan as before.

“Kaspar?”

A few ragged breaths. Another hurt groan—a growl.

But you have to know, fear be damned. You say Kaspar’s name again and hear the faintest reply.

“...I’m here.”

It’s soft but harsh, mixed with a deep rumble you’d expect from a large predator. But the sound is familiar. It is him. The shape shifts, growing taller and taller. It shifts forward, the motion reverberating with a harsh clack and of something ripping. The sound of hooves. Hooves, you soon see, that are coupled with dark, thick fur covering the entire body and contrasting with sharpened white teeth. But the facial features are familiar.

Kaspar stares down at you with blackened eyes, no white sclera in sight. You feel small, but not scared. Just like that night twenty years ago—

“I’ll tell you my name when we meet again. I promise.”

“It’s you,” you breathe out. “The boy from that night.”

A ghost of a smile graces his face until a wince seizes his features. Kaspar sinks to the ground, teeth sharpening and elongating before your eyes. As if he can't control what’s happening. You can’t fathom how to help save for offering comfort. As his fingers elongate, you gently coax him against your chest and cradle his head in your arms.

“I’m here,” you whisper against the swath of fur on his temple. “I’m here.”

The next moments are the longest you’ve ever experienced, each more nerve-wracking than the last. But you stay where you are, refusing to abandon him.

The growling subsides until Kaspar’s left breathing shakily. He lifts his arms, as if considering, then lets them fall to his side.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” you whisper. “But what’s going on? Why are you hurting? What’s happening?”

Kaspar presses closer to your chest and laughs bitterly. “I thought there was still time. But he…”

His voice breaks, a deeply weak and wet sound. So different from the confidence and calm you know him for. You hold him a bit closer and a bit tighter, waiting until he gains back his composure. And for him, for the boy who unknowingly turned your world upside down that night, you’d wait forever.

“My father isn’t long for this world,” he says. “What’s happening to me is proof of that. He’s dying and I’m not there.”

“Then how do we get to him?”

Kaspar pulls back enough to peer up at you, the eyeshine focusing on your face.

“‘We’? But why?”

He tries to shrink away, make himself smaller but you hold firm and keep embracing him. You look at Kaspar with a resolute gaze.

“Because you saved my life that night. And made things better for me. Whatever’s going on with your father, I want to help. Let me repay the favor. Please.”

No words. Only the faint sound of music from afar and the pressure of his touch against you..

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll have to generate a portal. To get back home. But I’ll need to gain some strength back.”

“Whatever you need,” you say.

Kaspar doesn’t shy away from your touch but he doesn’t lean into it like before. You don’t fault him for the choice, not when his father is on the brink. When he shifts against your hold with a long breath, you let go and watch him stand to his feet, following his lead.

“Whatever happens,” he says, “fight off the urge to run.”

Kaspar extends his clawed hand at the empty space before you, fingers splayed wide.

The air surrounding you shifts, crackling with a force you’ve never felt before. The hairs on the nape of your neck stand on edge as black fissures spawn from nothing a few feet behind you. The breach grows until a sizable portal stands before you, revealing nothing beyond its unyielding, dark corridor. Kaspar’s warning makes more sense now.

“We should go.” The exertion in his tone is hard to ignore. “It won’t stay open for long.”

Taking his hand in yours, you fall in step besides Kaspar and walk into the inky depths. It swallows you whole, robbing you of your sight, hearing, your sense of smell. Only Kaspar’s firm grip around your hand keeps you grounded enough to endure the lack of sensations. Until the awareness of self and your surroundings steadily appear again.

A speck of light that grows into a calming flame; a fireplace. The dull gleam of light against black, iron chains decorated with round, bronzed bells—just like yours. The creaking of the wooden floor, the swaying of hanging birch rods bundled overhead. The scent of the cold and wet from outdoors mixed with the warm timber of the indoors. And the faintest, familiar smell—the one that greeted you when seeing Omi in person for the last time.

The pale-skinned man lying underneath the thick quilt before you doesn’t move, save for the weak rise and fall of his chest. But his rheumy, blue eyes do flutter open as Kaspar steps forward and kneels at his side. The elder smiles, rasping out a few words in what you think is German. The tones are familiar to your ears, but the words themselves are odd; much older. As Kaspar encases his father’s thin, wizened hand between his, you let your gaze fall to the floor, refusing to intrude during this private moment. But your ears catch Kaspar’s voice breaking without warning.

“Farewell, Father.”

Kaspar’s cries are muffled from pressing his face against the bedspread. His form is larger now, a complete image now that his transformation is finished. You step closer to him, off to the side to avoid the large tapering horns curving from the top of his head. Eyes burning, you place a hand on his shoulder and feel his body go limp, resting solely on his bent knees.

Kaspar’s composure returns slowly but surely. You continue offering support however you can as he needs, even as he fells trees without an issue. Once his father’s body is wrapped in cloth and placed upon the unlit pyre, Kaspar looks at you and you him. The fur under his eyes is still wet from his tears.

“I’ve already inherited the mantle of Krampus from my father with his passing. But once there’s nothing left but ash, the transition will be complete. I’ll take on the responsibility and all that comes with the role for next year.”

“That’s why you were outside that night long ago,” you say. “Your father was teaching you what to expect.”

“He was. He taught me everything I know and how to care for myself. I wasn’t his child by blood, but he loved me regardless. Just as his father before him and his father’s father.”

He continues, even as the pieces of information fall in place in your mind.

“Since medieval times, maybe even longer, Krampus has always existed. But the figure has never been just one being. The first of us found an unwanted child and took them in. He cared for the child here in this realm. The tradition continued as time passed.”

His black eyes focus on the unmoving bundle without wavering.

“My father witnessed the rise and fall of kingdoms, countless battles, numerous plagues, and the industrialization of the world. He saw the worst humanity had to offer and the best they inspired in others. After all of that, it was old age that finally bested him.”

“...I think…”

You take a calming breath to center yourself.

“I think as children, many of us see our parents as invincible beings. They protect and shelter us. They explain the world to us. And they dry our tears, all while getting us ready to be self-sufficient. Their passing is…something unimaginable but as we grow older, we know it’ll happen. That doesn’t mean we’re prepared when it does.”

You wipe away an errant tear with a watery laugh.

“I wasn’t related to her, but Omi Helena was like that, more so since she treated me like another granddaughter.”

Kaspar stiffens at your words.

“My father said that name before. When I asked him about her, he said she was the only woman he ever loved. She begged him to take her away with him, but he didn’t. He couldn’t take her from all she knew, no matter how stubborn she was. So for her to live a normal life, he left without telling her.”

Omi’s final words to you resound in your mind, the memory pricking at your heart. More tears fall from your eyes and this time, you let them.

“She never knew. Omi passed on but warned me about the bell you gave me. She…she didn’t want me to go through the heartbreak she did.”

A warm touch encircles your hand then intertwines itself between your fingers.

“Then,” Kaspar says, tightening his grip just so, “maybe now they both can find peace.”

“A-are you…am I ever going to see you again?”

You hate how soft and small you sound. But you’ve stepped over an edge, one that you can never hope to uncross. A vulnerability you’ve rarely felt comes to the forefront.

Kaspar smiles down at you. His clawed thumb rubs against the back of your hand.

“You still have my bell and you’ve seen my home. You embraced me and supported me during my darkest time. I’d be a fool to let that mean nothing and never see you again.”

You laugh wetly and return his smile, squeezing his hand.

That’s all you need to hear.

ONE YEAR LATER

To this day, Ella still hasn’t let you live down your decision “to run all over Königburg like a headless chicken”. She’s let up since learning the cause was a family emergency Kaspar needed to tend to. But she won’t let you forget how your actions mirrored that one night during your childhood.

Still, if you were given the choice, you’d do it all over again. All because it led to meeting the man who would claim your heart. The same one you’re waiting for during a cold, post-Christmas night. It’s hard to stay awake so close to midnight, but you’re determined. Kaspar promised to stop by your apartment after his first official go as Krampus. Knowing how much the role means to him, you want to be supportive as possible.

THUD

You startle, much more aware than a few moments ago. It’s a good thing you live on the third floor of your apartment complex and don’t have any next door neighbors.

You hop to your feet, taking a second to stretch out your stiff limbs before bounding to the front door. Opening it reveals a grinning Kaspar brandishing a few Christmas-themed gift bags. You pop up on your tiptoes and he bends down to meet you in a chaste kiss. You hum against his lips, enjoying the heat he naturally gives off.

“That’s one way to announce your arrival,” you say, stepping back to let him in. “Dramatic, much?”

Kaspar shrugs, closing and locking the door behind him.

“Father insisted on the use of flair. It supposedly helps with the fear factor.”

You laugh. “Probably for most kids, but not all seeing as how I was an exception.”

“Yes, and a wonderful one at that.”

Ahhh, he never fails to fluster you at least once, whether in person or through videocalls. But you’re hoping, that tonight, you can turn the tides in your favor.

After setting down the bags and brewing two mugs of black caramel tea, you drink in the sight of your boyfriend from your seat on the coach. He looks well—and as tall as ever—but one thing stands outs.

“Everything alright? Your hand’s halfway between being human and that of a Krampus.”

He holds up his right hand, examining the black color that progresses to a lightened gray at his clawed fingertips.

“I suppose I’m still energetic from my first time being Krampus. There’s an odd rush that comes with leaping from roof to roof to scare the disobedient straight.”

“And you’re done for the night?”

He nods. “All the better to spend time with you, Häschen.”

Little rabbit, he calls you. But not tonight. This is it; this is your chance. You drain the last bit of your tea, wetting your lips with the remnants as you hold his gaze.

“Want to blow off some post-work steam then, big guy?”

His cheeks and the tips of his ear burn a pretty red you haven’t seen in a while. It’s adorable. More so when you tilt your head expectantly, awaiting his answer as he clears his throat.

“Are you sure? It’d be our first time together. And the transformation...”

You reach over and twine your fingers with his then squeeze, noting how his fingernails are lengthening into claws.

“Is something I’m not scared of in the slightest,” you say. “It’s a part of you, just like your human form. Which is wonderfully easy on the eyes, I might add.”

Kaspar chuckles, growing redder while looking your way with an expectant smile. A shame, since it evaporates your remaining bravado damnit. But you trudge on, knowing exactly how want the night to end.

“Besides I…actually like it. A lot—!”

You gasp as two large, clawed hands gently grip at your waist. They drag against your pajama top, almost tearing the fabric. All to pull you flush against his heated body to feel how eager he is. Kaspar grins down at you with sharp teeth and elongating fangs.

“Then I shouldn’t leave my dear häschen disappointed, hm?”

You squeal and laugh as he lifts you effortlessly into a bridal carry. His claws dip beneath your pajama bottoms to skim against your lower back, making you shudder. He draws nonsensical shapes against your warming skin, careful to not draw blood. He could, you know he could so easily, but how he doesn’t and just only teases...

You whine pitifully as he sits you on the edge of your bed, watching as he carefully, slowly, pulls off his clothes. Still, the sight is lovely and you can’t help but admire his build and bulk.

You reach out an eager hand once he’s only in his boxer-briefs. He not only meets you half way, but guides you to straddle his hips as he crosses his legs. Your fingertips skim across his chest then down his toned stomach to the hem of his underwear.

“So is this my present for this year?” you ask. “Because I’m not complaining.”

You squeak from the sensation of sharp teeth nipping at your pulse point. Then, Kaspar pulls a deep moan from you by lapping at your skin with his much longer tongue.

“N-not complaining at all. Fuck Kaspar…”

He chuckles, voice deepening into a rich, sinful tone that goes straight to your cunt.

“Just one of a few,” he drawls. “If you’d like, I can go—”

“I swear to god if you stop, I’ll kick your furry ass.”

Kaspar laughs, gripping at your hips and pulling you flush against his growing erection. You grind down against him, threading your fingers through the thick fur at his shoulders. The resulting sparks are good but aren’t enough.

“Kas, please...”

“Far be it from me to deny you anything, love.”

Kaspar takes his time removing your pajama top, laying you down to press kisses to your collarbone, down to the skin just above your breasts then your stomach. Once he rids you of your bottoms, still leaving your panties, he presses his thumbpad against the growing the dampness between you legs.

“Look at you, häschen,” he coos. “I haven’t done anything worthwhile and you’re already so wet for me.”

You rub against his finger to feel more warmth and pressure only for him to pull away.

“Now, now,” he chides above your whining. “Think you can be a good girl and let me taste you? I promise you’ll feel so good.”

You nod against the pillows behind your head.

“Please, please, Kaspar. Wanna feel you...!”

He yanks off your panties, leaving you bare as he positions his horned head right in front of your sopping cunt. He laves at your lips with the thin tip of his tongue then your clit, pulling a strained curse from your throat. You try to sit up and reach for his horns only for his tongue to plunge into your wet heat.

You cry out and fall back, your body arching at how it leaves no place untouched and skims against your cervix. And the heat; it’s almost searing, but so addicting and god do you want more.

As if reading your thoughts, Kaspar retracts his tongue just enough so it rubs against that one spot that leaves you seeing sparks behind your eyes. Again and again and again.

“God, Kas, ‘m gonna cum!”

His hand finds yours, twining your fingers together with a squeeze. One final swirl of his tongue pushes you over the edge, pulling a strained cry from your throat.

He slowly withdraws his tongue from between your pulsing walls, lapping up as much of your release as he can. Catching your breath, you glance up to see him hovering over you with a pleased smirk. He isn’t fully transformed, but he’s more than halfway there. You giggle as he growls at you playfully, reaching up towards him as he kisses you. He moans against your mouth, letting you taste yourself before pulling back with a hum.

“We can stop now if you want,” he murmurs, but you’re quick to shake your head.

“I want to keep going, but only you want to. Do you?”

“More than anything, häschen,” he breathes.

You grin. “Need some help with shedding your last bit of clothes?”

A sudden rip and the swift motion of his claws is all the answer you need. You laugh, looping your arms around his neck.

“Really, Kas?”

He shrugs. “The elastic was getting too tight.”

It’s enough to pull a fit of giggles from you. He nuzzles his forehead against yours, shifting his large bulk to better position himself. But you end up staring straight at his chest instead of his face.

“Here,” you say pushing against him. “Let’s try this, instead.”

You’re soon straddling him again with no barriers between you two. His large, erect cock is pressed between your bodies, relative to his size and weeping despite being untouched. Your mouth waters at the sight, but the urge to use it will have to wait. You focus on Kaspar and rest your palm against his cheek.

“This way, I can see what makes you feel good and we can both control the pace,” you say. “You alright?”

“I should be asking you that, love.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if I need to stop. Ready, big guy?”

Leaning down, he presses his forehead against yours and nods. He lifts you up so the tip of his cock presses against your sensitive hole. You wrap your arms around his neck and shift against his gentle hold. His head coaxes past your lips making you moan.

Just that bit alone presses against you fully, leaving no spot untouched. The fact you’re already feeling dazed from just that...

“More,” you breathe. “Want more, Kas.”

He grunts, his grip tightening on your asscheeks. His trembling transfers to you, pulling you from your haze.

“Kas?” Damnit, you’re slurring your words. “You ‘kay?”

“Shit…the change’s not done. Still coming. Can’t stop it—”

You kiss him deeply and let your tongue caress his, shushing him.

“It’s fine baby, it’s fine, I want it, please Kas I’m begging you. I’ll be fine!”

He keeps pushing in with a low hiss, stretching you so completely and deeply. And the way he fills you. God, you’ll never want another man. The burn is amazing; grounding yet leaving you breathless. And he’s still pushing in, until the head of his cock kisses your cervix. It’s then your ass ends up flush against his hips.

Your head lolls against your shoulders then falls forward, pressing against Kaspar’s heaving chest. Your body feels aflame but his fur carries the chilling scent of winter and his forested home. Calming yet addicting. Kaspar’s breathing stutters as he looks down at where you’re connected.

“Kas?”

“Shit...it’s me. T-there’s an outline...”

You grip at his fur with one hand, letting the other fall to your lower stomach. Your fingers skim against the hard bulge pushing out from inside you.

“Fuck, Kas, I can feel you...”

“Can I?” he strains out. “Want to move, please häschen, need to.”

“Yes, yes, move.”

He lifts you up and down on his cock, leaving the tip inside then touching your cervix with each motion. The sheer size of it leaves nothing untouched, pulling and pushing at your walls. His arms pump faster. Pressure builds up inside you, deeper and stronger than you’ve experienced. It leaves you slack jawed and panting, but you manage to hook your heels at his waist. Dig your fingers into his fur and listen as he rambles nonsense in German and English.

“Scheisse! So good, so good. Going to cum, häschen. I should—”

“Fuck, stay right there, Kas, cum inside—hah—it’s okay…!”

The band of pressure snaps, leaving you screaming and crying into Kaspar’s thick fur at the pleasure surging through your body. He follows right after, pulling you flush against his body to thrust deeply once more. Kaspar bellows into his hand with a roar that leaves you shivering.

Time passes, more than enough for you to catch your breath and overcome your daze. Kaspar’s tongue swipes at the sweat and tears staining your face; you smile.

“Feel better, big guy?”

Kaspar groans against your skin then sighs.

“Amazingly so. Perhaps we can make this a tradition of sorts?”

“I am more than okay with that idea. Stay the night?”

“Yes. And if I want to stay longer?”

You coax him down into a gentle kiss and press your forehead to his.

“Like you have to ask.”

#krampus #monster boyfriend #monster romance #lemon #exophilia

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xsamsharons · 3 years

Text

there's a light - k. brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader.

genre/warning: a slight mention of a scar but fluff!

words: 1.2k.

summary: ketterdam was said to be the darkest of places. however, in your opinion, it's just a matter of knowing where to find the light.

Ketterdam was a strange place to call home. The never-ending sound of gunshots, the smell that came from the streets and the amount of people willing to do almost anything for money, all served as reasons to explain why the city wasn’t for everyone. However, if you are lucky enough, you’ll find something or someone in the city that reminds you not everything is darkness.

“I really don’t get what your obsession with sitting on windows is.” you heard a voice say from behind you, a voice you didn’t have to turn around to know who it belonged to.

“Yet you always seem to join me when i come here.” you replied, as you felt his body move to the opposite side of the window you were sitting on.

It was raining, so that meant the city got a break from the action for a night and the streets looked deserted for once. Every street corner told a story, and while the dim glow of the moonlight has tried not to shine on it and the water that comes with the rain has tried to wash it all away, you could still see it if you looked hard enough. You could see it on the pavement- every forgotten newspaper, every drop of dried blood and every broken cobblestone. You could see it on the walls that framed the thin corridors and you could see it in the wind as it blew through the city and took every disregarded memory with it. Most importantly, you could see it from above. The height gave you the opportunity to see every roof in which two lovers shared a last goodbye- hidden from their enemies, you could see every balcony door that was closed in hopes of keeping the rain out of their home. And if someone were to look up at that very moment, they would see two people using meaningless words to fill the room, while they danced around the truth and hid the depth of their feelings.

“Well, it is my room after all, you know?” he asked, with a slight raise of his brow while meeting your gaze.

“It’s the tallest one.” you shrugged. As you turned your eyes away from him to look out the window, you could feel his still on you, making your cheeks grow hot. Was it from embarrassment? Were you flustered? Or were you simply too tired? You preferred not to know. He noticed, despite your efforts to hide it with a small smile and a cheeky comment. “You know, a painting would last longer.”

“Could say the same about the city below us.” He challenged. “How was it you put it once? Paintings don’t tell stories as well as once sight?” he continued and you smiled, glad to know he remembers the things you tell him.

“And which stories would a painting of my face not be telling?” you asked, as you turned to face him with an amused smile on your lips.

“Well, for one, the scar you got on your first job as a member of the crew- above your eye but half hidden just below your eyebrow. The uneven lengths of different strands of your hair because you let nina cut it one too many times. That one mole that is so far up your forehead, it gets hidden by your hairline unless you tug your hair backwards. The little scratches on your hands because you refuse to give up trying to learn how to flip knives.” He listed as you held your breath, eyes wide at the possibility of finally admitting to each other what you’ve both known for a long time. “All these little stories wouldn’t show up on a painting, knowing them is a result of observing someone for minutes on end, everyday, until you feel like you’ve only been put on this earth to admire them.”

“And you do?” you asked, watching as he walked closer to your spot on the window, leaving his corner. All while keeping his eyes on you. “Observe and admire me, i mean.”

“I do.” He nodded.

“Because i’m a member of your crew and you need to keep an eye on all of us? You once said staring at everyone on the ranks had become second nature.” You tried, noticing how close the two of you were now that he had stopped walking towards you. You saw the corner of his lips quirk to the side, which was the closest you got to a smile with Kaz Brekker.

“But i didn’t say stare, did i?” he asked “What did i say?”

“Observe.”

“And?”

“And admire.” you finished with a whisper, struggling to meet his gaze.

“You think I observe and admire Matthias?” he continued, the same amusing quirk of his lips on his face. And you would’ve laughed, you truly would’ve, if everything racing through your mind at that moment hadn’t been how close he’d gotten, and how much you liked having him near. Instead, the noise that came out of you mouth sounded more like a huff of air.

“Why do you stare at me, then? If it’s not something you do with every one of us?” You asked.

Say it, you thought, say it aloud for only us and the deserted city below us to hear.

“You know why.” he answered. And you did, god, did you know. You knew why because you did the same, because you felt the same.

And somehow, hearing him say that, so much closer to you than he’d willingly gotten to anyone in such a long time. Hearing him say that as the sound of the rain served as your own makeshift background noise. Hearing him say that as he stared at you with so much intensity you swore you could read every thought in his mind just through his eyes. Somehow, hearing him say that: right here, right now- it was enough.

You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, trying to say everything you couldn’t with words, with your eyes. The glow of the candle that was still lit beside you illuminated his face like it was the only place it was ever meant to shine on, and as your eyes moved from his own to explore his face you realized what he meant: every curve, every line, every scar on his face told a story that not even the greatest painter in the world could attempt to replicate. Your eyes continued travelling across his face as his stayed on your eyes, and when your gaze finally reached his lips, you felt him tense up.

“I-i can’t” he uttered in a tone that could only be described as ashamed, as if he was sorry he couldn’t offer that to you, but you weren’t expecting him to. You weren’t dumb, you could see his aversion to touch ran deeper than just wearing gloves when he was around people.

“I know.” you whispered, shifting your gaze back up to his eyes. “And I don't expect you to. Not now, and not ever if you’re not ready.” you continued. “We have time, and i’m not planning on going anywhere any time soon.”

“Neither am i.” He replied, and in his eyes you could see the relief he felt after what you said.

As you turned your gaze back to the city, you felt his eyes still on you- observing and admiring you, except this time you were aware. And when a slow breeze blew the candle that had been sitting next to you out, you found that every single light in Ketterdam could go out, and Kaz would still find a way of continuing to observe your face- and so would you.

a/n: first time writing kaz so i'm sorry if he's a little ooc. anw my inbox is open if any of you have any soc requests (any character)!

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine #six of crows #six of crows imagine #six of crows fanfic #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #my writing

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lady-ragnvindr · 3 years

Note

I’m back! My final of the day was horrible but at least the horny juice is pumping! (also I may or may not have become too excited about this particular scenario so now it’s also becoming its own X reader for AO3 when I finish it oops)

*cough* just clearing some warnings first... 👀

Omegaverse (obviously), size difference, reader has two cocks and a 2ft tongue, scent kink, sex pollen but it’s actually reader’s scent cause they triggered a rut, tongue fucking, mouth knotting, animalistic/primal sex, overstimulation, cum inflation, breeding kink, spitroasting (male receiving), marking/claiming bites, double penetration (male receiving), breeding kink, dragon cum confers semi-permanent immortality, slightly yandere characters

———

Okay, so in this setup, Teyvat’s dragons are these secluded and solitary creatures, that are only seen very rarely and decades apart. One is lucky to see a dragon come out of their secret lairs in their lifetime, but they don’t consider it as such, because dragons only ever come out for three things: treasure, war, or... mates.

The thing is, no one knows what happens to these ‘mates’. The dragons just come, towering over the tallest of alphas, roam around the land with their horns and fangs and claws, and then leave with their ‘mates’ on their arms...only for them to never be seen again. So, in the mouth of the people, ‘mates’ are just another word for ‘food’... only with a worse fate. Not that anybody dares to say it to an actual dragon.

In the middle of this, you’re a dragon just over a hundred years old, and you’re just out of your parents’ nest, roaming the land in search of treasure and possibly one (or a few) mate(s) before finally setting yourself with an adult lair.

The humans, however, are nowhere to be seen from where you stand, closing the doors when you pass and hiding their children, and you’re mildly confused, but chalk it off to them having never seen a dragon in their lives. Well, you’re truly majestic, even among other alpha dragons, with your two sets of curled horns and beautifully long tail, but it still hurts a bit seeing the mortals avoid you when you had been so eager to meet them, ever since your infancy’s tales.

And then, a presence makes itself known- or three, to be more precise. Two omegas and a beta, you can tell, and you wonder why they’re approaching you so cautiously, but you’re excited nonetheless. From their smell, you can tell they’re unmated, and you hope that if they’re not here to be your friends, they’re here to be your mates.

The first to approach is Scaramouche, in service of the Tsaritsa to investigate he rumors of a dragon descending (form where, he doesn’t know). He smiles and talks with glee in his eyes at the smile filled with pointed teeth that greets him, and you can feel your chest swell with pride. It’s all going well (all too well even, the unmistakable scent of pleased alpha making his omega reel in want), until the traveler comes too, scowling at him and loudly warning you about Scaramouche’s hidden nature and his probable ill intentions (nothing you hadn’t already noticed, of course).

Aether goes on, introducing himself and offering to help you for a while if you don’t know where you’re going, ignoring the tiny part of his brain that tells him he also wants to use you for his own benefit, finding his sister, but also the much louder one that screams ‘alpha! mine!’ in the back of his mind. Well, if he gets what he’s here for, he might as well be lucky enough to-

And then the third man comes forth, a refreshing smell of qingxin coiling around him just like the white snake on his shoulder, and Baizhu ropes you in his talk, friendly and surreptitious and he sounds out information about you you’d gladly give him in an instant had the ruse not been up. He asks about how life is like for a dragon and curious questions about your tail, and hides his need for knowledge just as much as the saliva already pooling on his tongue at the sight of you, your built form more than a head taller than he is, and the sheer strength you carry in yourself (And the other dragons said you were small for an alpha...)

The curious behavior of them is enough to rope you into their banter, a purr almost forming in the back of your throat at their sight and their scent, mixing so well with your own, but you hold it back for a while, knowing neither of them has tried anything with you. But they will, you’re sure, and you can wait for it for as long as they want.

It’s a few weeks later until your prediction comes true, a week full with lingering tension and careful touches that last just a bit too long and just a bit too little to be not nearly enough at every turn. You’re in the cave you’ve claimed as yours for your stay in the mortal world (only waiting for your little mates to come around), tail loosely curled around the three of them just enough you can chalk it off to a mindless behavior. You chuckle at yet another bickering between Scaramouche and Aether, the sore jabs and quick nips exhilarating to watch, as you prop yourself against the stone wall and play with Baizhu’s hair, his head resting on your lap.

And then, a hand is grabbing at your wrist, propping it against Baizhu’s cheek and him nuzzling against it, vibrant amber eyes staring straight at yours. “So, how do dragon mates work, even?” he says in that silky, languid voice of his, and you feel yourself twitch in interest.

The sounds of the conversation around pause all of a sudden, and now all three of them are looking directly at you, breaths hitched and scents sweetening just a tad, making your mouth water. Slightly nipping at your lip, your gaze wonders through each of them, finally setting down on Baizhu again only to ask, tone a bit more low now, “What do you want to know?”

The curious eyes shift lower on your form, and you feel, just for a moment, that the glint in their eyes could be more menacing that what you see. And then, Aether is shifting closer, now right in front of you sitting back on his knees, and Scaramouche has moved to your side only to stare closely into your face with a devious smirk.

Baizhu turns, and your attention is back at him now. “Perhaps... you’d like to demonstrate?” he says, already trailing a hand through your waistband and you can’t contain yourself anymore.

You snap, feeling the fire burning through your veins, liquid lust escaping through your scent and into the air. You grip at Baizhu’s neck only to pull him up for a fierce kiss, your tongue unraveling from within to shove down his throat, and he whines. Your tail is curling around the other two, death grip as it pulls them by the waist to pile against your heating body, and Aether whimpers, the steady filling of your cocks rubbing on him now that he’s climbed up your lap.

Scaramouche grips at your bulge then, still covered by your clothes, and you groan, leaving Baizhu to grasp for air as he holds right to your frame as you bite into the harbinger’s neck, fangs already extended and ready for marking. The surprised moan that escapes his mouth is almost as nice as the way he turns limp into your arms from shock, only to grab your hair and hold you against his neck, you biting and licking all too eagerly before you feel cold air and deft fingers hit your skin.

A sigh leaves the blond’s pretty lips, and you look down just in time to see him start nuzzling into your cocks, inhaling your scent and looking hazily up to you. He moans as he takes one of your cocks into your mouth, Baizhu’s trembling hand reaching to caress his cheek and tug at your other cock, and you groan as you pump out more of your scent, wrapping your tail tighter against Aether’s waist and moving to rip your mates’ clothing off.

You don’t waste time to maneuver Scaramouche’s hips into your face, his always smug face contorted in pleasure as your tongue breaches his hole, a frenzied rhythm inspired only by your growing need to mate, and breed and to claim. You grip into Baizhu’s head to guide him to your other leaking, dripping cock, and he moans as he laves his tongue on it, intent on pleasuring you the best he can as you hold right to his hair with pricking pain that goes form his scalp right to his cock.

The messy sounds in the cave get drowned by the rain outside and you feel yourself on the brink at all the sensations, thrusting up into the receiving mouths working desperately at you and making Aether gag, taken aback, and Baizhu thank his lack of a gag reflex. Scaramouche, you know, is also more than desperate to get off, shaking his hips and trying to send himself further down your tongue, crying already with a fucked out face and you wonder just how sensitive he is as you lick more intently, feeling your thighs flex and high peak as you slam both Aether’s and Baizhu’s heads into your new protruding knots.

You feel Scaramouche come on your tongue then, triggered by the smell of pleased alpha inundating the cave, and your tongue works faster as the slick drops down his thighs, cum spurting from him only to fall into his stomach and the wall on the back. You don’t stop your licking though, working him up again to a strangled cry as he’s forced to quickly wind up again on it and cum until your knots come down enough to get to actually fucking your mates dry.

The growls you make reverberate against the walls of both the cave and Scaramouche’s hole, and the minor twitches on your cocks has Aether’s eyes suspiciously water, his tongue doing its best to lap at you and keep you satisfied.

Baizhu leaks his scent then, the calming scent just enough to get you to let Scaramouche up, shaking legs struggling to hold him as he drops on your side and drapes his head on your shoulder, and you ride the rest of your high out to his satisfied purrs.

—

You must have fallen asleep at some point, because when you wake it’s to your little mates draped all over you and the burning need to breed. With much less grace that you’ll want to acknowledge later, you groan at the feeling of your rock hard cocks dripping on your chest, and makes quick work of lifting Aether up and unceremoniously dropping him into your cock, and he screams as he wakes up, feeling a size much too large for himself breaching into him all at once. He pants, feeling your soothing hands on his hips as you nip his neck in apology, but you don’t stop until he’s flush against your hips and barely a second to adjust before you’re hammering up into him, grunting at the feeling of your other cock rub against his cleft.

It’s not nearly enough to get you off and you’re about to try and jam everything inside Aether all at once when Scaramouche wakes, scowling at the noise, before stopping himself to the sight. You growl at him, and he looks at you with sheer want on his eyes, and it’s in more of a roar than an ask that you tell him to ride your cock, and he whines, yet makes no move. You sneer, reaching for his hair as you mercilessly yank him into your cock and stuff his hole full all at once, copious slick aiding your work and you can feel him clench at you as he chokes on his words. He whimpers and cries as you thrust up, roughly, barely hitting his prostate in a way that has him screaming for more and arching his back, and you stuff your tail up in his mouth to stop his whining, leaving only muffled whimpers to fill your ears.

Baizhu stirs awake to this vision, the pretty blond clutching at your back and arching to rub against your belly as you fill him up and fuck the pretty, loud sounds out of his lips, and the other artificially arched in a bow as he’s fucked on both ends, and he can’t believe how hard he’s gotten and how grateful he is he left Changsheng and Qiqi to go over on a mission for the week. He wastes no time in nuzzling to your neck and hump into your side as he bares his glands to you, and you waste no time to accept it before diving down and biting hard enough to draw blood. He’s moaning, then, trailing wet kisses over your skin as he speeds up his humping, panting and moaning as if he was a bitch in heat, which he might as well be at this moment.

You dive down as you feel yourself reach completion again, speeding your thrusts and slamming Aether’s hips back on yours as Scaramouche is sluttily rocking back and forth on your other cock, and claims the blond’s bare neck in a single, twisted bite, your teeth so large against his slim neck you grunt and cum right on the waiting bodies above you, knots firmly against the omegas’ stretched entrances, and Baizhu is panting loudly and cussing as you lick the blood away from Aether’s neck only to open again the matching wound on Scaramouche’s.

They come, untouched, still riding on your hips from oversensitivity and Scaramouche is tamer than you’ve ever seen him before, and Baizhu is trailing up again to catch your lips as he grunts and comes on your side, and Aether’s looking so pretty you might as well just keep on fucking him until he can’t take it anymore (and then do it again).

Your omegas look so beautiful like this, fucked out on top of you and even falling over each other, too tired to even process it, and their cum stuffed bellies bulge and satisfy a primal urge in your alpha to keep them well-bred, full of pups and begging for more.

You wrap your tail around them, and decide to wait again for the next wave of your rut, only for Baizhu to tell you to ‘wait for him for a bit’, with the calm playfulness only he can achieve and you thump your tail lightly on the ground in acknowledgement.

It takes not long before he notices when your cum starts to leak from where your knot subsided, and it’s at this moment that he gently pulls the two omegas (or tries to, before you move them yourself) to both your sides and out of your cocks. You whimper at the loss, cold air of the cave and the rainstorm outside replacing wet, tight heat and is about to protest before he groups both of your cocks together and aligns to his hole, sinking down with a hitched breath.

He sighs, adjusting slowly to the intrusion, before he pouts, “I didn’t get to have my fun yet”, and moans when he’s finally meeting your still barely deflated knots with his shaking hips. As you move your hands to his waist and grips, hard enough to leave marks for days, he smiles languidly and laughs, saying there’s something he noticed on your cum. “It heals people, doesn’t it?”

You grunt, thrusting into him the softest you can so as not to wake the tired out omegas on your chest, and nods, saying it’s what helps dragons keep their mates for their whole lives. His eyes sparkle and he gasps, sinking down harder and you can barely contain yourself as to not flip you both out and fuck into him like there’s no tomorrow (someday, you think distantly through you lust-dazed mind).

“Yes, I noticed,” he gasps, and it seems he’s hit an extra good spot, so you shift your hips until you’re aiming right at the spot, the double girth brushing at all his right places at once and he has to hold himself back as to not be too loud. “I wouldn’t be able to take both these monsters at once if not,” he gasps, finishing his thought as you chuckle. It’s not long before he’s coming, clenching down on your cocks as he shivers, and you moan at the welcoming heat, spurts of slick still so little compared to your omegas but delightful nonetheless. He crumbles onto your chest, grumbling something, and nods when you grip harsher at his hips, and you waste no time in wrapping two rings of your tail around his waist, propping his head up with the tip and setting up a much harsher, much faster pace, seeking to destroy the beautiful man you’ve been gifted with. And his self-control is gone at his time, muffling his whines and pleads only by biting into his own hand as harsh as he can, the other twisted into your hair in a tug that makes you want to ruin him. And you do, diving down for the final mark on your beautiful strike today, right over his gland, and he’s spurting again with a hitched breath, making him clench and trigger your orgasm as both of your knots are shoved in his right hole, and he swears he’s gonna cry himself dry at this point.

As you leave his neck and licks soothingly at the wounds, you can’t help but rumble again at the beautiful sight of all your three mates, stuffed full and fucked out for the day.

—

It’s not for a week later that the four of you leave the cave, your rut finally done with and thankfully not triggering any of the omegas’ heats, thanks to their steady use of suppressants. You smile as you walk towards the nearby town, preparing to finally decide where your adult lair is gonna be, and you couldn’t be happier as Aether pulls your hand, leading the group as Baizhu saunters behind and Scaramouche is snarling and snipping sarcasm at the blond’s behavior, and discreetly snarling at everyone who looks at you slightly too long. Your smile grows larger, appreciating how cute they are, clinging to you and scaring off the few people that seemed a bit too interested as well.

So cute, just for you.

Even if you know they would try to kill anyone who ever upset you or tried to talk to you again, but that’s okay. With three beautiful mates like these, who would need any more?

———

This has gotten much longer than I wanted even with all the cuts and edits I made, so I hope you like it bestie 👊🏻😭

~🐃

Babe this is some good shit, each time I kept scrolling I didn't wanted to end 😫

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #dom!reader #scaramouche #aether #baizhu #🐃-anon

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Chapter 5. We have stucky, we have stevesambucky friendship, we have a new place to live and strange being a good guy because tony definitely ranted at him. Also, we're beginning the creepy part of the plot. I have decided that sam will be one of the main platonic characters in this story because I love sam.

fun fact: I used to be a creepypasta writer! Going back to my roots here, hehe.

Things had stated changing, for better or worse, much sooner than I had been prepared for - but was anyone, ever, really ready for the next big step? Certainly not me - the view that greeted me after I'd finished my shift at Jeremy's was peculiar and unexpected, so I froze, eyebrows high at the two super-soldiers parked, once again, illegally, right in front of the entrance door.

"Hi, doll," Bucky was reclined against his boyfriend comfortably, his bike standing a pace behind Steve's, who nodded companionably, a sheepish grin on his face.

"G'day," I nodded, eyeing them warily. "I think I know where this is going..."

"No, no, nothing like that," both men frantically waved their hands around, Steve coming up close to approach me slowly. "You're not in trouble. I came out here to say thanks," giving a sappy look to the grouch that was his boyfriend, Steve reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. "Just, uh..."

"Those are our phone numbers. Don't hesitate to give either one of us a call if someone bothers you," Bucky took over the stammering blonde, shaking his head at the soft blush that blossomed on the good captain's face. The brunette wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders with a shy smile of his own. "Or if you, I don't know, need someone to carry your groceries or something," he snorted. "The punk wouldn't leave it alone until we came out personally to thank you, the sap."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest as I grabbed and pocketed the paper, throughly amused and at the endearing gesture. "Sure, thanks."

"And, uh," Bucky's eyes briefly looked to the side. "We'd appreciate if you keep the status of our relationship to yourself for now. We're not, like, officially out yet."

I froze in place, mouth falling open. Surely they were aware that anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that they were much more than 'good, lifelong friends'. "No problem, guys. Lemme know if anyone gives you shit about it though, this place," I gestured to the café behind me, "is strictly paparazzi and homophobe-free."

Steve's grin grew even more genuine. "Yeah, we heard all about it from Tony and Stephen. Said 'twas the only place they go these days."

I wasn't aware of that. "It's the paps, isn't it?" I remembered Tony's remarks.

Bucky shook his head, the metals of his prosthetic arm whirring as it recalibrated. "Not only. The public hasn't had the best reaction to a man goin' out with a man," the brunette looked away to the side, where Steve's face had fallen considerably. "And Tony's an eccentric rich man. We're jus' two soldiers. The US Army won't be too happy if we... Came out," both men were crestfallen yet determined.

I had a hunch nothing would be able to separate the two - seeing as not even seventy-odd years and brainwashing and ice couldn't keep the captain and his sarge apart, I doubted that a few government weasels could successfully do the job. Even so, it was unpleasant, to say the least, to see them deny themselves something that technically was perfectly fine in the 21st century.

I chewed on my lip, gathering my wits. "I've clocked out, I can tell you this as a friend- as a person. You don't owe the army jack shit. They do not own you, you are your own person that they experimented their German knockoff steroids on. Respectfully, fuck that shit." I firmly stated my opinion, figuring that there should have been at least someone that told Steve that he is more than his star-spangled uniform and giant metal frisbee.

The blonde scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers gripping onto his belt until the knuckles went white, the hard line of his jaw set firm.

Bucky laugh took me by surprise. "Agreed, doll. I'm too old to be hiding in back alleys and shit," he clapped on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Although I'm happy enough with just not going to prison for bein' in love with this idiot."

"Jerk," Steve's responding pout was downright adorable now that I knew the circumstances surrounding their relationship.

Which wasn't exactly surprising. As a barista, I knew my fair share about my regulars' love lives, their jobs, their kids. The tea was almost always piping hot. "Bye, boys," I smiled at them warmly, throwing a glance at the time, adjusting the strap of my bag for comfort. "Stay outta trouble!"

Steve scrambled for his bike, having noticed my pointed gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to hold you back. There, I have a spare helmet," he gestured behind him. "I'll give you a ride."

"There's no way in Hell I'm getting on that death trap!" I shouted cheerfully, walking briskly towards my second job, hiding a laugh in the warmth of my scarf as two very offended motorcycle-loving gay fossils sped past me, making truly incredible amounts of noise. Good for them.

Odette was content to let me rummage around the bodega without showing herself more than necessary, taking her appointments and doing- well, witch stuff, I guess, only coming out to poke at the various jars for ingredients.

"Star, I have a proposition for you," right before closing time, Odette's voice filled out the store with its low drawl. "A good friend of mine owns an apartment building, not far from here actually, and one tenant recently moved out. It's a safe space for those who are different," she enunciated the last word, fixing it with a pointed stare. "She's not overly fond of total strangers coming to live there. The rent is reduced and the apartment itself is slightly bigger and more fashionable than yours..."

"Where's the catch?" I found myself interrupting her. I wouldn't lie: the reduced rent and increased size of the apartment did interest me, as well as the probability of a kinder, more involved landlord. My current one was - not the best, but such was life in the NYC.

"There are a few rules to follow, rules that might seem strange at first but they'll make sense in time. And your neighbors might be also a little... Unusual," Odette carefully studied my face for any signs of displeasure.

I sighed.

And then I sighed some more as I was signing my new lease in a few days' time, having spoken with Porter, my new landlord, and his boyfriend who had claws and fangs- after so much time spent around Odette's, I didn't even blink. The couple liked me enough to extend a secure but flexible offer and some furniture to choose from the attic where they kept the spares.

I quite liked the large, vintage couch I placed next to the wide bow windows in the living room. The floors were hardboard and well-kept, the walls a nice, homely shade of green and Porter didn't mind any new holes in them that might arise from hanging up decorations. I scheduled a thrift crawl at the next possible opportunity, happy with the "good employee" bonus Odette had given me after I sealed the deal.

My stuff was boxed up, a sleepless night and a call to a begrudging Jeremy to have a couple of days off to move; I was, thankfully, not late on my schedule and all that I had left was to rent a car to move the boxes of my things and the few pieces of furniture I had decided to keep - my haul in Porter's attic had been incredibly rewarding and my new apartment had all the basics to make it look like a warm, inviting bohemian home in a while.

My phone rang suddenly, startling interruption to the romcom I was watching as I ate my last lunch in my old apartment. "Hello?" I answered the number without looking.

"Hi, doll," Bucky's voice rang out cheerful. "A little witch told me you were moving. I thought you might need a hand?"

I blanked momentarily, the thought of enlisting two very busy super-soldiers to haul ten boxes and two endtables worth of stuff not having crossed my mind at all. "Is this the moment when you stop by my house just to unattach and put your prosthetic arm somewhere and leave?" I asked, hearing distinctive snickering - several more people were with him.

The cheer in his voice blossomed into a full belly laugh. "You're funny," he teased me. "And thanks for the idea. But no, I have a room full of men that have nothing better to do but get on my nerves. Might as well make 'em useful," his accented drawl thickened the more we spoke. Muted cheers rang out in the background.

"Uh, sure," who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I rattled off my address and warned them I didn't have a car, after which Bucky assured me it will be taken care of. The last remaining knick-knacks packed away, I went down to take out the trash, and returned to four people standing in front of my apartment building, all except one unrecognisable in their civilian clothes. "Hello," I waved at them, side-eyeing the tallest, grumpiest man of the bunch.

Stephen Strange was there, looking around curiously, hands in the pockets of his plain grey hoodie. I had already forgotten how normal he looked without his robes, and, frankly speaking, I preferred him like that. His title and the attire that came with it were quite intimidating.

"Hey there," a dark-skinned man who I recognised to be the Falcon, raised his hand. I had not met him yet. "I'm Sam, Sam Wilson. You must be the Star we're helping?" His quick once-over and the tilt to his lips; the ease with which he flirted had me brandishing smirks of my own. I led them all upstairs, Stephen's silence being just so loud. Sam, however, had no such reservations. "So, you're a witch, right?" Wow, subtlety was his middle name.

"Yes, I'll show you my broomstick," I deadpanned, wiggling my eyebrows at him with a grim look.

"Woah woah," Sam raised his hands as the three men behind us snickered loudly. "What happened to 'how are you? let's have dinner sometime'?"

I did my best imitation of an evil cackle as I let them through my front door. The four newcomers looked around my nearly empty apartment with muted interest before zeroing in on the pile of things in the corner: a few pieces of furniture and nearly taped boxes. Should be a walk in the park for four men.

A hand on my arm pulled me from the stupor of observing Sam, Bucky and Steve act like a well-oiled trio, bantering and teasing each other as they discussed how to best move the things.

"Look," Stephen Strange had all the appearance of a chastised puppy. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was out of line," the low notes in his voice made the appearance of the apology being somewhat reluctant. Tony probably put him to it after our little burger run.

Irregardless, I wasn't looking to make any enemies. "Me too, I was under stress - not that I'm using it as an excuse," to give where it's due, I nodded at the sorcerer, immediately awestruck by the easy, boyish smile that stretched on his lips.

"You are strong," he added. "If you would like to learn our ways, we would welcome you." There was a spark in his eyes, something belonging to man that respected and collected knowledge. My own respect for him grew immensely just from that one thing.

"I'll think about it," I offered amicably, however, I still leaned heavily towards a negative answer to that particular proposition. I liked my current way of life.

Strange's grin made a momentary second appearance, until Sam's voice rang loudly: "Fire in the hole, Wizard-man," causing the former to groan loudly and look at me.

"Think about your new place for a second," he spoke, briefly touching out fingertips. As soon as that was over, a golden circle with my new living room on the other side of it appeared quietly, Strange's hands immediately going back into his pockets after that. I sighed and pointed the men into it, stepping in a second after. The sorcerer wasn't far behind. "You could learn that, too, you know," he added wryly, having seen my look of mild envy directed at him.

"I think I'll be good with having the 'pissed off the sorcerer Supreme and lived' pass for now," I retorted with an eyeroll, turning around to stare him down.

He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, at least. "I'm not like my predecessor," his words were chosen carefully. "And, to be honest, I have no clue as to why your... Boss is so hostile towards me- us," Strange looked around the room before unceremoniously beelining for the couch and plopping down on it.

"Not to be a gossip," I started, slightly intrigued. "But Odette and some lady she called ancient had mad beef," I slipped into casual language easily, trying to recall the details of Odette's, quite often jumbled, stories. "Sounded almost like territorial disputes," I shrugged. "And the apprentices Odette took on before me found themselves in all kinds of compromising situations," I chewed on my lip. "Like the Arctic."

Strange rubbed his face with a noisy groan, large hands doing nothing to mask the resignation and slight embarrassment.

I focused on the thin, red scars on his hands - they had to have been something serious, the way slight tremors betrayed the deteriorating state of the nerves in his fingers. I frowned, quickly averting my gaze before he could catch me ogling him. The fact thag Stephen kept his hands in his pockets or covered by gloves at all times didn't go over my head.

He muttered something to himself, something that sounded like he was often forced to clean up his predecessor's mess. "I see," was the only thing he'd offered me, looking slightly pitiful and apologetic.

"Well," I started, noting the last of my stuff was about to be in its rightful place, "as long as you don't toss me into the ocean, I think we can coexist peacefully."

"Tony would kill me if I'd tried," Stephen groused.

"Probably," I agreed. "Considering the fact he hit on me, for you, it would make one hell of a lover's quarrel," my hand pointed towards the kitchen as Steve and Sam carried in the boxes aptly labeled "kitchen", looking around a place to put them down.

"Tony did what now?" Stephen's tone dropped, a wry smirk decorating his lips as he eyed me through his lashes.

"Don't ask me," I raised my palms, feeling my eyes widen. "He's chaos personified and Satan only knows what he's got on his mind."

That squeezed a laugh out of the tall man, followed by a fond, sappy smile as he looked out of my large, panoramic window, probably thinking of Tony himself. There was no doubt, Stephen Strange was utterly and throughly head over heels in love with Tony Stark. Good for them, good for them.

"A-and that's it," Bucky walked in, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel I'd provided them earlier. "I took some liberties and assembled the furniture, Steve is stacking the dishes as we speak," the brunette noisily plopped down next to me, arm carelessly thrown behind me on the back of the couch.

"Oh, um," I stammered, unused to such random gestures of kindness. "Thanks a lot, you saved me a day's worth of time and a backache," I smiled, scooting over to make some room for Sam.

"No problem, not like we had anything better to do than argue which part of the Lord of the Rings is the best," Wilson rolled his eyes, elbowing Bucky none-too-gently.

Bucky elbowed back, thus starting a horsing war between the two, causing me to scoot closer to Stephen as I attempted to avoid any flailing limbs; the sorcerer and I shared an identical, perplexed sigh as to how two grown men could easily bait each other into such juvenile behaviour.

Whatever. It was kind of endearing.

Steve emerged from the kitchen dusty but smiling, having heard the commotion, and quickly herded his guys into a semblance of decent behaviour before all of three of them left, leaving me and Stephen to go back to my old apartment and give the keys to it to the guard. That was done, too, and a portal from an alley behind my old building straight into my living room had me and Strange awkwardly hovering, saying out goodbyes and waving to each other as the golden circle rapidly shrunk in size and disappeared, golden sparks scattering across my living room carpet for a short second before they fizzled out, too.

I used the brief moment of respite to find the small piece of paper containing the rules Porter had insisted I read and take seriously; figuring it might be a good idea to give them a read before beginning to unpack, I popped open a bottle of soda, holding the itemized list written in neat cursive to my face.

The further I read, the further my eyebrows rose:

"1. Keep your door locked at all times.

2. If a person knocks on your door claiming to be the mail man, do not open the door under any circumstances. You are free to ignore the knocking - it only lasts a minute or so. After the person has left, you may open the door and check for any packages.

3. If Samantha from 3B visits you and asks you to babysit, you may do so at your personal discretion. Her twins are a handful and their daily habits are not for the ones with a weak stomach, however, they mean nothin ill and will not harm you in any way.

4. Do not use the elevator between the hours of 1 and 4 AM.

5. There are no apartments under number "7". If someone claiming to be from those apartments knocks on your door and requests entry, come up with a polite excuse to decline and send me a text message. I will take care of it.

6. There is no garden on the premises of this building. If a man approaches you, claiming to be a gardener, don't interact with him and simply walk away. He will leave you alone.

7. You may meet a girl in a polka-dot dress playing in the hallways or in the stairwell. This is Lucy. Always be polite to Lucy - you won't like what will happen if you're rude to her. She does not talk but she knows limited ASL and may request to visit you. Allow her in ONLY if you have fresh meat in your fridge (beef or mutton, preferably bloody). You might want to avoid seeing her eat, however, it might be very beneficial to make friends with Lucy. She knows a lot of things.

8. If, when taking the stairs, you encounter inconsistent numeration of the floors, such as floor 2 followed by floor 5 and etc, simply walk a flight back. It will sort itself out. The building is old and sometimes it gets confused.

Important notice: these rules apply to your guests as well. Please make sure to introduce and educate them on these matters. We will help as much as we can should a situation arise but ultimately, there are fates far worse than an untimely, however swift, death.

- Porter and Lance."

A slow, creeping dread began to gnaw at my nape, curling on like a cold snake deep in chest. As if laughing at me, the warm, welcoming embrace of the green walls and the toothy, wide smiles my landlords had given me encouraged my recently found sense of adventure, all of it mixing into a cacophony of exhilaration and unease, equally steadily driving my running brain insane.

I sighed again, immediately going to the box containing my altar and the rest of the protective items. So much for peace.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #ironstrange x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x y/n #Stephen Strange x you #tony stark x you

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queenofwerewolves · 3 years

Text

Future Hope

chapter one - Where it all began.

We all thought the new decade would be a new fresh start, a new beginning for humanity, we were all so excited for the the arrival of 2020... and it's unknown horrors that we awaited along with it.

it started with just jokes and memes, the virus wasnt affecting us, it didnt seem like a big deal. Then it reached Italy, then the United States. In a span of three months, the entire world changed and was affected by COVID-19. Then it happened.. the attack and sudden uprising of those who had privilege, but didnt know of it's power..

it started with the Black Lives Matter Protests, but it got worst, so unhumaningly worse. People around the country and the world tried to help and stop this evil, but it wasnt enough to stop them. The White Suprimacy.

Death, despair, anguish, loss for hope... What has the world come to?

Even after two years of the incident, in the year of 2022, the same horrors from before was still going on. No one could stop them, those who tried were imprisioned or now buried six feet under, people gave up, they lost hope... Until a new reason for that hope arrived.

It started as a friendship group. Eight people of different kinds, intetrests and hobbies brought together by a common interest, which soon grew into an unbreakable bond, sharing pictures or tagging one another with a funny meme attached to it, simple acts but filled with love.. Until this group almost lost a member.

A fight was happening while she was visiting a store, it was between a simple teen wearing a pride shirt and a middle aged man, bickering and arguing issued, but no one expected the man to pull out a gun and attempt to shoot the kid... Only to miss, and shoot the beloved group friend...

She was texting her friends while it happened, only for them to not hear anything for weeks... But she finally replied, after weeks in the hospital, recovering from the shot. One of the members couldnt have it anymore, and kindly asked for everyone to create a Discord account so they could all see how their wounded friend was doing. Everyone agreed, and surprised her with a call.

Maria was her name, and she couldnt be more delighted about the surprise..

"Yo! Yooo Bitch can you see us?!" Shouted one friend from their call

"For fuck's sake Spike the woman was shot and you have to call her a bitch?!" Rudely replied another friend, who's background was dark and gloomy and had far too many halloween decorations.

Maria laughed softly. "It's OK Spooks.. Wow.. I cant believe Im seeing you all.. Just wished it wasnt at the hospital through a videochat..." She said with a soft smile.

"It is truly a concerning situation we've been dragged into.. but it brings me joy to see you alive and well Maria" Said another friend, looking a little too-well dressed in the call

"Im guessing Griff begged you all to make a Discord huh..?" Maria said, looking at the video box of young man with a concerned yet and embarrassed look.

"Queen... We were so worried..." He answered, slightly choked up. "We thought you were a goner.. When you finally texted back I..I just had to see you..!"

Queen. A nickname she never thought someone would ever call her, hell it was a title that she didnt even deserve. Until she met Griff, which started to call her that, and her other friends jumped along, she always loved that nickname.. Made her feel special...

"Seeing you all together... All for me... It makes me want to cry.. But we dont have time for me getting emocional" Maria answered, suddenly stern

"Why is that Queen? Something going on?" Answered another friend, who was sucking on a lollipop during the call, such the sweet tooth she is.

Maria smiled. "No Muffin.. I simply have a proposal for you all.. And I hope you all are in with me...Because Im getting pretty sick of the way things are in this shit world.."

And so was born a new hope, a group of fighters that are indignified about the way things are, and how they almost took their friend away.

After healing completly at the hospital, they all met in person for the first time. Maria told them that they way they are now wont be enough to make a change to the world, but she knew how to fix that. After a small walk through the woods in the park, they came through a gated area, which Maria crawled under a broken spot of the gate and the others followed, doing the same.

"Long ago" Maria started speaking. "After I moved here, I decided to explore around this park for fun. That's when I found this abandoned gate and went through the same broken piece of wall of the gate we all came through, I believe that's here can help us become better then we already are."

Spike, chewing a piece of gum sneered at her comment. "Oh sure, what is it? A wishing well?"

"Well..." She answered as they came to a stop.

In front of them was a perfectly clean, almost sparkling fountain with clean crystal water still working and flowing out of an angel's vase. The fountain was too bright and shiny, it sure as hell didnt match the rest of the area's gloomy and dark visuals..

"It's a wishing fountain!" Maria spouted out, smiling wide. But the rest werent as.. cheery as she was.

"A fucking... wishing fountain?" Spike answered. "You expect me to believe that's a real wishing fountain? If that's true then why dont you wish for this shit world to become better?"

"I tried!" Maria answered "Apperently it doesnt make big wishes like that, it only makes wishes about yourself or something very small. Like wishing your room to be clean kind of small"

"I mean.. It kinda has that magic aesthetic, I mean, that thing is impeccably clean while the rest is covered in dirt?" Kip answered, glancing at the fountain.

"I know it sounds silly but it really works, I actually did my wish already!" Maria said smiling wide

"Bullshit" Spike answered "You aint a fucking Werewolf, what makes you think we believe you actually wished to be one?"

".. Cause I didnt wished to be a Werewolf..?" Maria answered, dumbfounded. "I always said that I LIKE Werewolves, but I never wanted to be one. I wished to be good at using a scythe and knife throwing, like exceptionally good ya know?" She said excitedly. "And before you answer, YES I do have a scythe, I bought one. Dont ask where."

"So... who goes first?" The smollest of the group, Rook, asked.

"I'll go" Said Griff, pulling out a coin before Maria stopped in this tracks. "This.. Doesnt accept coins" Maria said, seeming a bit worried.

"Then what?" Griff answered back, only to shocked when Maria answered "Blood".

Before Spike could throw a fit, Maria cut him. "Just a drop! Literally! I got a needle here with me, all you gotta do is prick your hand and let the drip fall after you make a wish."

"Let's just get on with it before Spike goes crazy again" Said Blink, the tallest of the group and the one to deal with Spike's bullcrap

Griff took Maria's needle and stood in front of the fountain...And said outloud his wish..

At first he whispered his wish, as if he didnt want anyone to hear it.

"Uh.. It has to be out loud or it wont work Griff." Maria said.

"I-I said.. I wish to be a strong, masculine and really beefy Wererabbit that's really manly and buffed up!!" he shouted with a tone of embarrassment in his voice.

"A Werebunny.. Griffy?" Said Maria in disbelief. "What?! It's co- ow!!" Without looking, he pricked his hand with the needle, and let the drop of blood fall into the fountain's water, mixing along with it. The fountain suddenly shined so brightly that everyone had to cover their eyes for a brief moment before it died out.

Then.. Silence.

"... So.. Now wh-AHCK!!!" Shouted Griff, hit with a sudden shot of pain throughout his body, which made him fall on his knees as everyone backed away from him. They watched in horror as not only he grew almost three times his size, but he got much fuzzier, his ears stretched into rabbit ears, his muscles swelled and bubbled as they grew bigger, his body shifted painfully into a hybrid between man and rabbit. When he finally finished, he just collapsed on the floor, panting exaustedly.

His friends were inicially shocked, until Maria snapped out of it and rushed to his side, placing a hand on his head. "Griffy? You OK..?"

He answered, in a much gruffer, deeper voice.. "Yeah.. Yeah Im good.."

"Jesus.. It worked.. Can you stand?" She asked. Griff nodded as he slowly got up and almost knocked his head on a tree branch from how tall he was now. Everyone was looking up at him, jaws dropped in shock and awe, until..

"HOLY SHIT YOU'RE NAKED!!!" Rook shouted as she covered her eyes, running in place "MY EYES!! THEY BURN!!!"

"We.. better finish these wishes quick and get you some pants." Maria added, Griff simply nodded as he covered himself embarrassed.

One by one they did their wishes. Becoming who they wanted to be to fufill their purpose with Maria.

Spike wished for strong arm strenght, fast stamina and an aluminum bat that never breaks, and can destroy almost anything. Blink asked for a sword, the ability to parkour and jump from building to building like some kind of vigilante. Kip asked to be part cat for the heck of it and that whatever she draws will become a reality. Muffin asked to be a fairy, to bring joy because she isnt a fighter. Togekiss asked for high I.Q, the ability to see simulations of possibilities in the future and telekenisis and teleportation. Spooks asked to be like an Underworld Goddess, with the power to summon shadows and have the darkness on her command, and finally, Rook asked to be part bird and a wizard with elemental nature, and musical spells,to honour her beloved Lammy, she also wished to have a split personality to be like her favorite character, ENA.

And so the team was ready, and soon they would make a change to the world, the revolution has begun, it was time to shine..

For a Future Hope.

#Queen's Story #IT'S HERE #FINALLYYYYY #I HOPE YA'LL LIKE IT

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callboxkat · 3 years

Text

Those Long, Lonely Nights (part 2/6)

Author’s note: This is a retelling of the story These Deep Dark Woods, but from Roman’s perspective. I recommend reading that story first, but this can also stand alone.

Summary: Roman, a knight, insists on accompanying his best friend Logan, a potion maker, when he decides to head into the notoriously dangerous woods bordering their home to find some rare herbs and minerals for his apothecary. They find much more than they bargained for when they encounter Remus, a bloodthirsty giant. Logince. Angst with a happy ending.

Fic Warnings: food mention, blood, injuries, death mention, killing mention, gun mention, mild body horror (it’s Remus), disturbing imagery (it’s Remus), character death, temporary/believed character death, kidnapping, guilt, attempted self sacrifice, talk of giants, vampires and other monsters. Very unsympathetic villain Remus.

Word Count: 3039

Part 1 : Part 3

Writing Masterpost!

...

Roman and Logan planned to meet at the base of the South Tower, which was one of the four largest towers of the wall, home to both the largest concentrations of knights as well as the main tunnels leading out from the settlement. Other tunnels existed, but they were mainly used for emergencies. It was much easier to know who was in the woods and who had safely returned, or more importantly, who had not, when they all had to leave from one place.

Roman had gathered the supplies he normally took on missions beyond the settlement—his uniform, of course, and his sword, as well as a tent and a few other items that fit neatly in a pack slung across his shoulders. Roman also preferred to bring his own water. There were ways to tell if dark magic had polluted a water source, but Roman preferred to just assume none were safe.

He spotted Logan, with his ever-ridiculously straight posture, just beside the tunnel entrance. He, too, wore a pack over his shoulders, and it looked like he was wearing a pair of black leather gloves.

Roman swallowed his doubts about this ‘outing’ and put on a smile. “Hello!” he called.

“There you are,” Logan said, turning towards him. He waited while Roman jogged closer, pulling a pocket watch from his coat and checking the time. “I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten.”

Roman put a hand over his heart. “I would never! Are you ready to go?”

“Yes; I have been ready for nearly forty-five minutes.” Logan held up the pocket watch for emphasis.

“Excellent!”

The pair stepped into the tunnel, which was lit by more of those electric lanterns, with torches here and there as well, probably just in case the lanterns failed. Just past the entrance a handful of sentries stood, speaking with a group of traders and knights who appeared to be from one of the eastern settlements, waiting to get through with an armored cart laden with goods. One of the sentries checked off a few final things on his clipboard, nodded to his colleagues, and the group was allowed to pass.

“Ah, Sir Roman, you’re going beyond the wall?” one of them asked while the cart rattled down the passage.

“Good morning, Sir Rose! Yes, I will be accompanying the fine apothecarist here.”

She nodded, turning to a knew page on her clipboard and beginning to write. “How long do you plan to be gone?”

“At least until evening tonight,” Logan supplied. “Possibly until noon tomorrow.”

“I’ll put until tomorrow,” Sir Rose said. Her pen scratched on the paper. “And where will you be going?”

“I am collecting medicinal herbs, minerals, and other ingredients. Where I go will depend on their abundance and distribution.”

“Ah.” She hesitated.

“We won’t leave the southern woods,” Roman assured. “Walking distance, you know.”

The sentry nodded. “Try not to go too far in,” she suggested. “It’s easy to get turned around, and the monsters get more common the deeper you go.”

“Of course,” Logan said. “May we pass?”

“One more thing; I’ll just need an inventory of what you’re bringing out of the settlement. And I trust you both have weapons?”

Roman patted his sword, and Logan pulled aside his coat to show his dagger. Then, after a quick list of what was in their packs, plus an obligatory glance in each bag to confirm, and a signature from each of them, they were allowed to move on.

“I ought to bring you more often,” Logan commented as they made their way through the passage. “Normally it takes more than twice as long to be cleared to leave.”

“Thank you, I know I make an excellent travel partner.”

They continued on for a few seconds, walking over the smooth stone floor, their path lit by flameless lanterns and the opening of the tunnel exit beyond.

“…Hey, Logan?”

“Yes, Roman?”

“How does electricity work?”

…

That first day in the woods, they didn’t have many problems.

They came across a ghoul about a mile into their hike, which Roman quickly dispatched with a swing of his sword. It was satisfying, watching the thing crumble to dust. He even managed not to get any of the mess on his uniform—he loved how dashing it made him look, but it really was a pain to clean, sometimes. They also carefully avoided a pond which, at first glance, appeared perfectly normal, but seemed to glow faintly from within.

“I don’t think that was here last time I came this way,” Logan commented, sounding intrigued. “Although that was in early spring. Perhaps it is a seasonal feature? I would love to collect a sample.”

Roman scrunched up his nose, eyeing the too-inviting pond, and was quick to remind Logan that they were on a time limit. And Logan had to admit that poking around a likely cursed pond when they didn’t have to was probably not a smart idea. So, they avoided the pond.

Around noontime, Roman was pretty sure that he saw a pair of harpies in the distance, flying between the tallest trees near the top of the canopy, but they didn’t come too close. Roman probably wouldn’t have noticed them at all, had one of them not cast a shadow as they passed over a gap in the leaves.

Other times, they heard distant screeches or howls. It was faintly disturbing, but at least they could listen for if any of these signs of life came a little too close. Roman was very glad that they didn’t need to worry about ear protection: banshees stayed much further north at this time of year. It would have been much more difficult to keep watch for any trouble, if they had to stunt one of their senses. Even if it would also block out some of the creepiness.

Logan didn’t seem overly concerned about being in the woods, content to simply collect his potion ingredients; but he did keep his dagger ready. Roman kept post as guard watching the trees for movement. He wasn’t especially interested in the things Logan was collecting, but this mission as protective detail was much more exciting than standing post on the wall all day. And while this part of the woods seemed relatively empty, Roman did not like the idea of Logan out here alone. It only took one monster getting the drop on him. And Logan’s dagger was a far cry from a sword.

As the day wore on and they ventured further into the woods, seeking the specific materials Logan needed, things seemed to grow even quieter. Roman was relieved. Maybe Logan had been in the woods before, and maybe he claimed to be able to deal with monsters, but no one was ever truly safe beyond the wall. The fewer monsters around, the better.

They ended up going rather further in than Roman had intended them to go, but Logan pointed out that it had been hours since they’d last seen any kind of creature, and if they didn’t get everything he needed now, they would simply have to return. Roman couldn’t argue with that, so he followed along, keeping a look out. With how far in they went, Roman knew that they wouldn’t make good time to get back, and he did not want to wander the woods in the dark. It would be all too easy for something to sneak up in the dark, plus it would be incredibly embarrassing if Roman tripped over a root and fell on his face in front of Logan. They did have torches, but drawing less attention was always better this far from home.

Near sundown, they found clearing which had a decently flat floor, and decided to make camp for the night there. It was on the crest of a slight hill, which would give them an advantage if any monsters decided to come sniffing around in the dark. Logan had chosen the spot, although his reluctance at not continuing a little longer was clear. He and Roman both knew that it would be easier and safer to eat and set up their tent while they still had light, though, so he didn’t complain.

Soon, the tent was set up. The lantern within let off a cheery glow, flickering merrily, even if looming shadows still filled large swaths of the space. They only had one bedroll—Logan’s—since they planned to sleep in shifts. As confident in this mission as Logan was, he wasn’t foolhardy enough to let them both be unwary at once. Of course, even if he had been, Roman would not have let that happen.

They ate a quick dinner, of hard, cold, and rather tasteless provisions. Roman knew better than to risk cooking food over a fire, or even bring food that smelled too delicious and might attract company, but would it kill Logan to bring something that didn’t taste like the field rations they gave knights who were going on long-term, far-flung missions?

...Actually, that might have been exactly what this was, Roman thought, looking over the brick of what might be some kind of grain meal before taking another stiff bite. He wasn’t sure where Logan had gotten it. Maybe there was some sort of knight surplus store. Roman had never exactly gone out of his way to get these rations.

Logan finished his meal first, clearing his throat and taking a long drink of water.

“I’ll take first watch,” Roman announced, setting aside what remained of his own rations, and shifting a napkin so it was less obvious how much was left..

“That would be appreciated,” Logan said. He looked tired, for good reason. He had been up and down all day, pulling up plants and digging in rocky cliffs for mineral deposits.

They cleaned up the remains of dinner, brushed their teeth, and got ready for bed, or in Roman’s case, for his watch. Logan sighed as he sat down on the bed roll. He removed the pocket watch and several of the items they had collected that day from his coat (what there hadn’t been room for in his pack, minus what Roman had agreed to carry) and set them to the side. “Please wake me in a few hours for my shift,” he said. “And do keep a vigilant watch.” He reached for the blanket.

“Aren’t you going to remove your coat?” Roman asked, watching. They had brought more than one blanket, and it was summer besides—Logan wasn’t keeping the garment to help with the chill.

“I would like to be prepared,” Logan said. “This is not the first venture I have made, and I am cognizant of the creatures found in these woods.” He patted his coat where his dagger was hidden, then pulled the blanket over himself, moving to lay down.

Roman grinned at him and held up his sword, posing, well aware of how impressive he looked in his stark white uniform. “Not to worry, Logan, for the noble knight Sir Roman will protect you!”

Logan rolled his eyes, but then he smiled, just a little.

Romans heart fluttered.

Logan removed his spectacles and set them to the side, with his other belongings. “Sure, Roman. Good night.” Logan never called him by his title, but Roman didn’t actually mind, not when it was Logan.

“Good night.” Roman slid his sword back in its scabbard and turned to leave the tent. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Logan’s eyes closed, his chest rising and falling gently. It was clear he was already asleep, or nearly so.

Roman bit his lip, allowing himself to watch for just a few seconds, appreciating the moment, under the guise of making sure he had everything (in case Logan wasn’t actually asleep). The coziness of the tent; the warm, tranquil night air; the fact that they got to be here together. Yet his heart ached. He and Logan were best friends, at least if you asked Roman, and that was something wonderful that he wouldn’t trade for the world… but sometimes, he did wish that that they could be more than that.

Some things just weren’t meant to be. Roman knew that. He turned out the lantern and silently left the tent.

The forest beyond their little shelter was dark and still, with densely packed trees stretching in all directions. It was too dark to see the rocky outcrops that occasionally broke up the landscape. There was just enough light to see, from the soft moonlight filtering down through the canopy. They were lucky that the moon was nearly full.

For a while, Roman paced around the edges of the tent, his sword ready, watching for any sign of something amiss. But as the hours ticked by, with no sign of any unwanted visitors, he slowed down. He eventually sheathed his sword, but kept his hand on the handle.

Still, nothing happened. Another hour, and it would be time to wake Logan so that he could take over the watch. Roman found a rock to sit upon, and perched himself there, deciding to just listen to the woods, and scan the trees.

Twenty more minutes dragged by. Roman was holding back yawns—it had been a long day, and a longer night. He blinked hard, trying to clear some of the sleepiness.

Crack.

Roman froze, instantly wide awake.

A twig, breaking. Some distance off. It was small. Potentially insignificant. Yet that one, seemingly innocuous sound filled Roman with a sudden, queasy sense of fear. He slowly stood, unsheathed his sword, and turned towards the sound.

Silence.

Then, after a long pause, came a chuckle. Just a little too loud, for how far away it seemed to be.

The trees moved. A huge, monstrously proportioned creature seemed to melt out of the shadows. Glowing, poisonously green eyes met Roman’s, and a too-wide mouth split into a grin, the filthy, too-large teeth glinting in the moonlight.

It was a giant. Twenty-five feet tall, at least, with thick, thorny, leathery-skinned legs like old tree trunks, enormous hands like boulders, powerful shoulders, and of course, those awful green eyes.

“LOGAN!” Roman shrieked.

There was a commotion from inside the tent, but it was like the shout was exactly what the giant was waiting for. He came running forward, enormous feet pounding across the earth, closing the distance between them in seconds.

Roman swung his sword, but he barely made a mark in the giant’s thick skin. He tried again, aiming higher, and cut a thin line near the giant’s knee. Not deep enough to cause any real harm. He hardly damaged more than the rags of the giant’s clothes.

Roman was still shouting as the giant’s hands tore the tent to ribbons. As he lifted something—someone—into the open air, struggling wildly.

Roman cut, and slashed, and stabbed, and still it seemed to do nothing against the giant’s armored flesh. He tried pinning the giant’s robes to the forest floor, but the cloth simply ripped free, and the giant didn’t seem to care.

The giant laughed, and laughed. Logan continued to struggle as the giant lifted him higher and higher. Roman knew he was trying to get to his dagger, but the giant was hardly letting him move at all.

“Ooh, so squirmy!” the giant said gleefully.

“Unhand him!” Roman shouted, stabbing again with his sword, putting all of his strength into the blow. He must have hit a weak spot in the tough armor of the giant’s skin, because this time, the sword sank in halfway to its hilt.

The monster let out surprised roar and spun toward Roman. His fists, Logan still gripped in them, swung closer, and Roman caught a glimpse of Logan’s terror-stricken face, his normally neatly combed dark hair flung wildly in his face. He hadn’t even had time to put on his spectacles. Roman had never seen him look so afraid.

The giant batted Roman away, still holding Logan. Roman was sent flying back, but he managed to keep his grip on the sword, which was wrenched free from the giant’s leg by the force.

Roman hit the ground hard and rolled, collecting bumps and bruises that would surely hurt in the morning, but all he felt in that moment was the buzz of adrenaline and an icy pit of fear. He even managed to avoid falling on his own sword in that uncontrolled fall—at least those protective enchantments were good for something.

The knight finally hit a bush and skidded to a stop. He immediately staggered to his feet, breathing hard. He had to get to Logan; there was no time to recover. He adjusted his grip on the sword, spat out a bit of blood, and turned to face the giant. Apparently, the giant’s bleeding leg didn’t hurt him that badly, because he certainly didn’t seem bothered by the injury. The giant was now ignoring Roman, his attention seemingly focused entirely on Logan.

Who he was shaking around like a rag doll.

The giant cackled madly, watching Logan’s limbs bounce like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. Logan was clearly trying to curl in on himself, to stop himself from being flung about so much.

“Oh, no you don’t, you party pooper!” the giant cackled.

Roman was running back towards the giant, his sword raised.

The giant gripped one of Logan’s arms in one dirt-encrusted hand, and yanked, trying to force him to straighten his limbs.

As Logan’s body jerked to the side, he cried out—only for the sound to be cut off as his head collided with the heavy metal chain of the bone-studded bracelet on the giant’s wrist with a sickening, solid thunk.

Logan went limp.

Horror cut so deeply into Roman’s soul that is was as if a sword had pierced him clean through. He felt rather than heard himself scream.

He came to such an abrupt halt, it was as if he’d hit an invisible wall. No.

“Oh,” the giant said, taking in Logan’s suddenly lifeless body, the blood coating half of his face and his dark hair, dripping slowly down to the forest floor. “Oops.”

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seiin-translations · 3 years

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2.43 S1 Chapter 3.5 - The Dog’s View and the Giraffe’s View

5. READY FOR SUMMER

You think Aoki reads shonen manga?

This is the end of the first half of the first season, a.k.a the first tankobon volume. I’ll be going on a short hiatus for a few week before coming back.

Stan Odacchi!

Previous || Index || Next

Thrusting a CalorieMate bar into his mouth and holding a sports drink in his hand, when he rushed to the washroom near the gym, he suddenly ran into Aoki. Aoki took one look at Oda’s face and widened his eyes for a moment, then cautioned him with a disgusted look on his face.

“You should stop it with that…in my opinion.”

“Can’t be helped. I didn’t have the time to eat lunch or go to the washroom.”

The CalorieMate had sucked up his saliva and was sticking to his mouth. He put the box that still had some left and the bottle on top of the urinal and lined up next to Aoki.

Immediately after serving as an assistant referee on the courtside, he immediately jumped into his own team’s match, served as an assistant referee again on the same court as soon as it was over, plus he had to keep an eye on the progress of the entire boys’ volleyball division, support the participants and instruct the other members… Needless to say, he didn’t have time to take a lunch break, and he wasn’t allowed to go to the washroom since morning. Still, Oda only had to watch the gym, but Aoki was frequently pulled back by runners from the executive committee’s tent on top of that. This was the first time he was able to make time to talk to Aoki face to face.

It was finally the day of the Seiin Ballgame Festival. Luckily, the last few days were breaks in the rainy season, and the event was held on a day that didn’t interfere with outdoor events. In fact, the weather was so favorable that the temperature has reached July-like levels, and the executive committee has been repeatedly urging people to be careful about heat stroke.

Boys’ volleyball had managed finish four of their six group games without incident on the stage side of the gym. According to gossip, from the first group Team C, led by Aoki, had two wins, and from the second group Team F, led by Oda, had two wins, so it had already been decided that they would clash in the finals. The remaining two games would be elimination games that didn’t make it past the preliminaries, whether they win or lose, but since points were added depending on the points won, the overall winner was still unknown.

“It’d be interesting if we train Okuma to be a center.”

Aoki said next to him as he relieved himself. As ever, Aoki’s shoulder was at the corner of his vision.

“Okuma’s on the rugby team, isn’t he?”

“Well, it’s just an idea. If we had a burly guy like that, we’d look a bit stronger, right? Suemori-san said boys’ volleyball is soft.”

“It’s all about looks?”

“It’s important to look scary, you know?”

Well, when he puts it that way, it’s true that even though Aoki is the tallest guy in school, he’s more “long” than “big,” so he doesn’t look all that burly. He’s a center whose traits are height and dexterity. Okuma’s likely to be a different type of center than Aoki though…

“Well, enough about Okuma. I want Haijima more.”

“You’re pretty fixated on Haijima.”

“What kind of guy wouldn’t fall in love with that play? You’ve seen him play two games, didn’t you?”

“I know he’s good, but that’s not enough. It’d be nice to have a character who can speak up and get the team going, but he’s the complete opposite of that. Your team isn’t attracting any amateurs, right? For events like these, it’s better to have a noisy guy like Okuma.”

“So you want Okuma more than Haijima? Aren’t you being pretty cold to him?”

He couldn’t help but sound grumpy. He understood Aoki’s objective point of view. However, he got angry when he was told things objectively.

“Hmm? No.”

Aoki’s voice was light, and his shoulders turned slightly towards him.

“I’m talking about the ballgame tournament. The captain of this team is you, and if that’s what you want, then I won’t object to it and cooperate with you. If you want, I can find Haijima’s weakness so he can’t refuse no matter what.”

“I don’t need that kind of shady business.”

When he glared at him sideways, his shoulders shook with laughter. “It’s a joke.” It’s scary because this guy actually does those things that seem like a joke.

“We don’t need Haijima’s weakness for him to join. The problem might be Kuroba. He’s doing well so far today, but I don’t know what’ll happen when he comes face to face with Haijima in the finals.”

“Just have them match up. A feud between freshmen would be all cleared up if they just punch each other once hard and tell each other their true thoughts, don’t you think?”

Aoki said carefreely while lightly shaking his hips up and down, then tucked his thing back in and left the urinal.

In the case of you and me, we missed our chance to go through the process of punching each other and saying our true thoughts, and now we’re here… Oda watched the tall silhouette disappear across the label of his plastic bottle with a look like he wanted to say something.

Even though he and Aoki had their disagreements, they always ended up sidestepping the issue instead of getting into a serious quarrel. Even though Aoki would attack others with a sharp tongue as much as he wanted if necessary, but when it came to Oda, he would take a step back. He didn’t have to retract his opinion if there was something about Haijima’s acquisition he didn’t like. I’m not such a tyrant that I won’t respect the opinion of the vice captain.

Oda still wasn’t convinced about how he was chosen as captain in the first place. Whenever Aoki gave him his due because he was the captain, it stimulated a deep sense of inferiority within him.

When the grade before them retired, Aoki was to be appointed as the next captain. He had a mild and calm personality, able to keep an eye on the whole team. He was the natural choice.

At the same time, Oda was advised to switch from attacker to libero. The introduction of the libero system had opened up a place for people with short statures to play an active role. They could only substitute with a back row player and couldn’t participate in the spikes and blocks in the front row, but a receive specialist was an essential position in modern volleyball. It wasn’t that the previous captain had any ill intent, but rather that he knew that Oda poured more passion into volleyball than anyone else.

However, right with that timing, Aoki jumped into the student council. As though he was purposely creating a situation where Oda was compelled to be the captain—he couldn’t hold an important position on the student council and be a team captain for club activities at the same time. That was why Aoki couldn’t take on the role of captain. And under the current rules, the libero couldn’t in effect be the captain. In other words, as long as Oda had no choice but to be captain, he couldn’t switch to libero. Oda truly felt humiliated at being stripped of the attacker position. Because Aoki had sensed that.

What’s with you? Was that pity for me, who never grew taller? Or was it the freedom of a tall guy? He was angry. However, he was unable to lay bare such ugly emotions in front of Aoki and in the end, it didn’t turn into a serious conflict at the time. The comfortable relationship that they had since they started high school had somehow created a wall instead, and there was an atmosphere where it would be too awkward to share their feelings at this point.

Although Aoki was his best friend and a trustworthy partner who was more easy to get on with than anyone, he also harbored a strangely twisted gloominess towards him.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

It was awkward, so he purposely waited for Aoki to leave the washroom before he did so himself, but he saw a tall and narrow back staying in the corridor in front of the gym. From the other direction, Suemori appeared and suddenly spoke in a reproaching tone.

“Oda-senpai, why were you taking your time in the washroom? Please don’t make me wait here.”

“I don’t remember telling you to wait…You could have given me a shout if there’s anything to take care of.”

“I don’t want to go near the boys’ washroom.”

Oda nonchalantly put his hand behind him, feeling that the food and drinks he brought out from the washroom were dirty. I’ve been slightly thinking this for a while, but I wonder if Suemori hates men. But she seems to be able to talk to Kanno normally.

“So, what’s up?”

“The old teacher collapsed.”

Aoki answered in place of Suemori.

“What!?”

The advisor for the boys’ volleyball team was an elderly teacher, just as Aoki called him. They’ve heard that he was rehired on a part-time basis once he reached retirement age. Apparently, he used to play volleyball when he was a student, but the form of the game of volleyball should be quite different between then and now. He was like a fossil from his generation.

The advisor had been the referee for the entire competition without a break since this morning. Even they, as active high school students, were likely to collapse from the hectic bustle, so it would be even harder on the elderly.

It seemed that he was feeling dizzy from the heat due to the temperature in the gym having risen. They said it wasn’t serious, but the referee’s chair was now vacant. There were still three matches left. Either Oda or Aoki should be the referee for the remaining two games in the group league, but the problem was the finals where C and F would encounter each other. Since the other positions also had the bare minimum amount of people in them, there were no extra hands.

“Well, I’ll do it.”

Aoki said without missing a beat.

“Aren’t you competing?”

“I don’t mind. From the start, I prioritized administration, so if there’s not enough people, I was going to pull out and head over there, but…ah, there’d be a problem with me refereeing a match with my own team.”

“You say that, but there’s no other way. I want to give Kanno a chance to be in a game, and there’s no reason to bother pulling Kuroba out. On the contrary, isn’t the balance better now that we have two experienced people on each team?”

“Even if it was still three on two, we won’t lose. It’s not that…it’s no fun if you’re not gonna be playing.”

He felt like he was the only one being childish and having a tantrum at a time when everyone had to back each other up, and his voice got quieter and quieter. He couldn’t bear knowing that Aoki and Suemori were exchanging worried-looking glances over his head. But he still didn’t like Aoki’s quick and easy way of splitting them up. Was I the only one who was looking forward to the match…?

“If that’s the case, let’s make it a little more interesting.”

Aoki proposed in a light tone. When he looked up with suspicion in his eyes, Aoki had a pensive look on his face with a faint smile hovering at the corner of his mouth. He looked like that when he was about to plot something.

“In other words, you’re saying it’s boring because you’re not in it. In the first place, you say ‘take’, but do you even have their approval…?”

“I’ll persuade Okuma. Of course that’s if C wins. If F wins, you’ll persuade Haijima. However, if you lose, you’ll have to give up on Haijima once and for all. —Kuroba!”

Aoki suddenly yelled. Kuroba, who had suddenly been poking his head in from the metal doors on the gym side of the corridor, made a “Mrp” sound and ducked his head.

“You and Nagato both don’t want Haijima to join, right? You were listening in on our conversation just now. Since it’s like that, crush them to bits. Treat this match like a real game.”

***

The chief referee for the finals was Aoki. The assistant referee, the point displayer, and two linesmen were all members of the team who weren’t playing in the game. The other two linesman and the ball retriever were help from the girls’ team, including Suemori.

It was past four o’clock in the afternoon, but heat was coming down the roof, which had been scorched by the midday sun, and accumulated indoors. The windless court wasn’t just completely covered in heat, but also some kind of strangely oppressive atmosphere.

As the team members took their positions around the court, they sensed a strange tension in the court that went beyond a mere school event, and their expressions tightened. Only Aoki had his usual relaxed expression, and he wondered what he was scheming. The way the already-tall Aoki stood on the referee’s stand and looked down at the court already somewhat made it a “tower.”

There were some spectators gathered along the walls and on the stage. The gallery installed on the second floor was also overflowing with students in sportswear. He thought that since it coincided with the futsal and softball finals, the spectators would be drawn to that, but it seemed that a surprisingly large number of people had come just to watch. Across the partition net, on the other side of the court, the girls’ basketball game was being held. The random bouncing of a ball other than a volleyball was jarring to his ears—he might be getting a bit nervous himself. He shrugged his shoulders up and down to release the extra energy. He was already sweating just by standing.

Team F got the serve through rock-paper-scissors. Haijima would serve from the right back row, and Oda would start diagonally from him at the front left. The opposing Team C’s starting order had Kanno at the front right and Kuroba in the back left. With two volleyball veterans placed diagonally from each other and sandwiching and supporting the amateurs, both teams had the most suitable formation.

Kuroba, getting ready to receive, kept pulling at his T-shirt and wiping the sweat off his face an unusual number of times. He wondered if it was just his imagination that the movement of his legs seemed heavy. Even though he was always jumping around on the court even when there was no need for it, now his feet were clinging to the floor. He’s pretty nervous. The fact that the crowd was much bigger than for the group league no doubt played a role.

What are we going to do for this game? He felt like it had become a farce starring the boys’ volleyball team, but of course he wasn’t going to lose on purpose. We’re going for the win. It was out of the question to give up on getting Haijima because of a single loss in a in-school match. If that was the case, he shouldn’t have taken this bet, but it was also out of the question for Oda to not buy a fight that had been sold to him.

He called Haijima, who was heading for the service zone, to a stop and he turned around and asked him something.

“It’s okay now, right?”

“Yeah. Do it with all your power.”

He heard the sound of the safety lock inside Haijima disengaging. In the previous two games, Haijima was banned from doing jump serves. It would no longer be a game against an amateur team if he did so, and someone were to get hit in the face, they risked injury.

“…Eleven months.”

Haijima muttered in a low voice, cast his gaze to a point on the other side of the net and narrowed his eyes.

“Did he get a little better?”

He smiled faintly. The depths of his eyes were boiling, as though he was even taking in this heat and transforming it into a part of the heat within him. Stimulated by that fighting spirit, Oda also felt his entire body trembling.

Just you watch… He glared at Aoki, but couldn’t meet his gaze with Aoki on the referee’s chair.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Haijima’s jump serve even drew the eyes of the first-timer spectators. He placed the ball in his left hand, stretched his arm directly before him and stood still. A beat of dignified silence that took the watcher’s breath away. The moment he tossed the ball up high with a spin towards the ceiling, there was a big “Ooh.”

From his graceful and refined form, as though he was dancing in the air, he let loose a sharp jump serve. Contrary to the slickness of his form, Haijima’s serve was quite unpleasant. It had a unique twisting spin, partly due to him hitting left-handed, and the one who was receiving was under immense pressure. Drawing a curving arc, it accurately aimed for the area Kuroba, who was positioned in the back row, was guarding. Kuroba, who didn’t say he was good at serve receives, managed to hit it with his arms with a panicked look on his face. Fortunately, it went up high, so his teammate went right below it and waited. Who was going to hit it?

Was Kuroba, who received it, going to hit it himself?

“Right court!”

He was astounded by the instruction that came from the referee’s chair.

Oi, wait a minute!? Is that even allowed!?

The ball was set to Kanno on the right court. Oda jumped to block in surprise, but Kanno dexterously shifted the core of the impact and changed it to a straight spike from the angle of a cross-court hit. Tch, he’s good… The spike that was as sharp as a needle went through a narrow course.

While landing, he turned his head to follow the whereabouts of the ball. He thought it might have been on the border of the sideline, but Nagato the linesman didn’t hesitate to indicate that it was in. The person who enthusiastically shouted “Yes!” from outside the court in place of Kanno, who had landed soundlessly, was…Suemori. I get the feeling that there’s a lot of officials that are emotionally attached to the opponent’s side, but…?

Team C’s first point was engraved.

“Oi, why is the referee giving out instructions?”

He snapped at the referee’s chair.

“If there are any objections, you can write them down on the record sheet later.”

Aoki said calmly, then quickly blew the whistle to prompt Team C to serve. There was no way they were going to prepare a record sheet used for official games for a ballgame tournament.

“Do it in one go, Haijima.”

He turned his back on the referee’s stand in indignation and said that aloud in order to calm himself down. However, Haijima only sullenly muttered, “You haven’t gotten any better at defense though,” and it seemed that he didn’t care about the noise around him or the subtle and complex actions of the staff members. The intensity of his concentration after entering the court was astonishing, but…he felt that he was slightly different from the previous two matches. Isn’t his mind too focused on one point?

At the end of where Haijima’s eyes were fixed on, Kuroba was, as ever, looking around restlessly while worrying about sweating profusely. The complete opposite of Haijima, his concentration was scattered. It was a face that screamed that Aoki’s implication was bad.

Team C, under Aoki’s instructions (which he still couldn’t wrap his mind around), had adopted the strategy of gathering the ball to Kanno. The scene where Kuroba hit didn’t return immediately, but even so, that scene came when it was 3-3 in the beginning, the rotation moved three at a time and Kuroba in the front right was directly facing Haijima in the front left over the net.

The first setting of this set came from Kanno to Kuroba.

At Haijima’s instructions, a triple block was set up. Oda in the back row prepared to back them up. “That’s a hell of a jump from that guy!?” The jumping power of Kuroba, who was high enough for his chest to comfortably show up over the net, made the crowd go wild. Completing the rotation of his shoulders by arching his whole body in midair, his body bent back and his arms swung out, as though releasing a nocked arrow. This dynamic spiking form, which could be called the splendor of volleyball, was the usual Kuroba, but…he’s not looking at the blockers at all. The ball didn’t pass over the net, getting caught on the white band and falling to Team C’s side.

Right when F-team took the lead with 4-3,

“Time out.”

The head referee requested a time-out.

Oi…I’ve never heard of this.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“Why hasn’t he fixed that habit of his yet?”

Haijima turned on him as soon as they gathered courtside. Team C was making a circle around the tower that was Aoki. So why was the chief referee coming down from the referee’s stand and being on the bench of one team? After glaring at the other party who made his temple spasm, Oda turned back to Haijima.

“It already became solidified within him when he joined in April. There’s no problem in practice games, but he always gets like that when it’s a game with a lot of pressure, and to be honest, he’d be useless in an official match.”

For last year’s middle school prefecturals, Oda only went on the second day, so Kuroba, who apparently only participated on the first day, went unchecked. When he first joined the club, Oda was simply excited that an unexpected find had burst in. In fact, when he was used in the May practice match, he couldn’t find any problems. There was an inconsistent feeling to him, like he was developing, but his energetic play was pleasant to watch, and his strangely likeable character also helped to energize the whole team.

Although they haven’t acquired Haijima yet, he was confident that their attacker lineup was in good order with this, and then the prefectural tournament in the start of June—

The god of volleyball seemed to like secretly digging pitfalls.

An odd habit had begun to show up. He either failed his spikes entirely that got caught by the blocks and got himself out, or it got trapped by the net. It wasn’t like his form was messed up, but he couldn’t settle it. Even when he asked the person in question, he vaguely answered with a somewhat spaced-out expression, like his feet weren’t on the ground, that even he didn’t know why it was like that.

“…Why…”

Haijima grumbled, glaring at his feet with a gaze that could scorch through the floor.

“Stumbling over something like that…”

Haijima, that’s exactly how I feel about you, Oda thought. If you ask me, I’m jealous of the both of you, and just looking at you makes me irritated.

“Hey, we have to do something about him. It seems that it has something to do with Nagato and the second round of the middle school prefecturals?”

At this point, I should create a front that would make Haijima take a step closer to us, even forcibly. Thinking that, he tried inducing him.

“The middle school prefecturals…?”

Haijima raised his head and furrowed his brow.

“Sometimes players fail in their debut matches and suddenly fall to pieces.”

“They said it was my fault? But…”

His voice jumped up for an instant. He immediately closed his mouth sullenly and looked down again, fiddling with the taping on his fingers in front of his stomach. He thought of him as a player who didn’t have the habit of making other people read his mind, so that behavior was unexpected.

“What was I supposed to do…I was waiting, on that day…but, he was the one who didn’t come…”

He felt like the view before him was suddenly blocked by a thin, but hard, shell.

***

Even after the timeout, Kuroba’s play was lackluster. It would have been excusable if he had been blocked by the volleyball team members, but he was messing up because he was minding the blocker, who was an amateur ten centimeters shorter than him and just standing in front of him. Really, when he was good, he was great, but once his gears went out of whack, he quickly fell apart on his own. To be honest, he thought it was better for him to withdraw, but Aoki, Team C’s captain as well as the referee (this dual role was strange no matter how you look at it), didn’t seem like he was going to replace him.

He could see the frustration building up in even Haijima every time Kuroba made a mistake. Even so, the thing that differentiated Haijima from Kuroba was that his play never wavered, or rather, became frighteningly sharp. Not necessarily in a good sense, as he even covered his teammates’ minor mistakes all by himself and ended up excluding the amateurs. It felt like the sullen aura emanating from Haijima’s entire body made it seem as if the temperature on only their side of the court had dropped down a notch. It was out of the control of even Oda and he called to him less and less, and he thought that he could imagine the atmosphere in the second round of the prefectural tournament Nagato was talking about now.

His irritation towards the two who didn’t appreciate at all the value of the treasures that had been given them became stronger. If it were those two, there was no doubt that they would be able to stand at the forefront for the next ten or twenty years. Was it asking too much of freshmen to be less small-minded when they had such high physical potential? But, if he had those two’s potential, he definitely wouldn’t waste it. A super-ace who was trusted by his team for his solid decision-making ability as well as enlivening the team as a mental pillar…He knew that he couldn’t be that kind of player anymore, but he still dreamed to this day.

The fifteen-point system was shorter than he expected. When Haijima rotated from the back row to the front row and match-upped against Kuroba with the net between them again, they entered the final stage of the first set. Kuroba, obviously bending back, took a receiving stance like he was shrinking away from the net. While glaring at Kuroba’s disgraceful behavior with a gaze that could burn the net to ashes, it was perhaps at this moment that a circuit somewhere in Haijima’s mind snapped.

The serve was Oda’s. His thoughts were so focused on the two of them that his aim was a bit fuzzy, so the easy and half-hearted ball ended up falling right in the middle of the opponent’s court. He ran back to the court, fed up with himself as he thought that he might not be better than Kuroba today. That was when it happened.

“Hit the ball, Kuroba!”

Haijima shouted. His carrying voice suddenly pierced through the court where all talking had decreased, and everyone on his own team was startled.

As in the first round, the set flew from Kanno to Kuroba. Almost as if by spinal reflex, Kuroba suddenly did a run-up and leapt. Haijima blocked it perfectly.

However, this time as well, Kuroba’s spike didn’t even go over the net before it was blocked.

They both landed on the floor at the same time, the net between them. Right then,

“Stop screwing around!”

Haijima kicked the floor right after he yelled that, and then barged into the other court from under the net and tackled Kuroba. At this unbelievable situation, Oda froze in the receive stance, unable to move. It’s different for baseball game broadcasts, but I’ve never seen a brawl at a volleyball game, and I didn’t think he was the type to lose his temper like that!?

Everyone on his own team was dumbfounded, and everyone on the other team jumped out of the way, startled. After blowing Kuroba all the way to the center of the court, Haijima immediately went to straddle him and grabbed him up by the collar as Kuroba was hitting his back and coughing.

“Don’t run away! At least give one decent shot! If you’re this nervous for just a ballgame tournament, you’re not cut out for this, so just quit!”

He was yelling at him, looking like he was about to bite his nose off.

Kuroba’s back lifted off the floor.

“Hey…stop it, Haijima!”

Oda came to his senses and hurriedly passed under the net.

Right when he was about to pin Haijima’s arms behind his back, Kanno wedged himself in between them and said, “Senpai.” While keeping Oda back, Kanno looked at the referee’s stand. Oda widened his eyes and looked up at the stand, where he saw Aoki leaning against the top of the pole and grinning down at the two first-years on the floor.

“If they had just one big fist fight and told each other how they really felt…” Their conversation in the washroom flashed across his mind.

Hah!? No way, don’t tell me you were expecting this!?

Kuroba, who he thought was just going to let this happen, surprisingly grabbed Haijima’s wrist and yelled back.

“I’ve never been in a game where I had to lose successfully, and I don’t know how to do that, so of course I’m not cut out for this!”

“What are you talking about…”

Haijima was speechless. Kuroba, hesitating to say further, glared at Haijima at point-blank range as he moved his lips soundlessly. Then, he suddenly cast down his eyes, drew in his chin, and pressed his fist that was grabbing the front of Haijima’s chest to his forehead. It looked like a gesture of prayer.

“…’Cause, he said that you’d come back if we lost… Hey, isn’t this enough… Come back already…”

Come back already.

Those were words that Oda couldn’t think of or say in his position. They made him realize he didn’t need any pretense, and that all he needed was such clumsy, straightforward words.

Haijima, having lost his outlet for anger, just looked bewildered. His face, looking like those straightforward words didn’t penetrate his stubborn heart very well, made Oda irritated again.

“Hai…”

Right when he was about to interject, unable to keep quiet anymore,

Beep!

“Oh, you guys done yet? It looks like you guys pretty much said it all.”

A fake cough and Aoki’s voice, dampening the tension, came down from the referee’s stand.

“If that’s the case, the two of you, leave the court.”

He said, calmly holding up a red card.

“Fighting in volleyball is unheard of. And freshmen, don’t say that this is just a ballgame tournament, because this is a lively event that I worked myself to the bone to prepare for without sleeping. They really do need to pay me for this.”

***

After seeing the overall results at the administration tent with his own eyes, he returned to the gym. The gym, where the partition net was removed and cleanup had ended, was empty, but the net and poles still remained on only the stage-side court where the boys’ volleyball match had taken place. It was as if only the net wouldn’t admit that the match was over. The enthusiasm for the finals that had engulfed the court had now been cooled by the evening air, and he suddenly felt lonely.

There was a figure standing before the net. Like the net in front of them, it seemed like they still wanted to continue the match. Well, he was kicked off the court after doing one set, so I guess I can’t blame him for wanting to rampage more. The taping on his hands hanging down on the sides of his body still haven’t been undone yet.

“Haijima.”

Though his back reacted slightly to his call, he didn’t attempt to turn around. He goes at his own pace, eh. Oda smiled wryly as he approached him.

“They didn’t put the net away?”

“I asked them to leave it. I’ll put it away.”

Just like on the first day of team practice one week ago, Haijima lifted his chin and looked straight at the white band of the net. The sunlight shining through the window weakened and it dimmed considerably in the gym, but he could see a light in his eyes. A dazzling light that welled up within Haijima, as though he couldn’t contain his feelings of dissatisfaction.

“This wasn’t set up at 2.4?”

“Oh, we only raise it to 2.43 at the finals. ‘Cause it’s a game full of experienced players.”

With his hand on the net, stroking it sideways, Oda walked to the edge of the court and put his hand on the pole. Since the protective mat was removed, his palm touched the cold metal directly. The surface of the old bronze-colored pole was rough with copper rust stuck to it.

“We’re going to a family restaurant for the team’s afterparty, so meet us at the school gate at six-thirty. Don’t worry, us third-years are paying.”

“Please don’t count me in.”

He was given an annoyed reply. There are still not enough reasons? Oda sighed. Even though it’s so obvious that he’s longing to play volleyball, what exactly is holding him back? Is there something else besides the Monshiro Middle incident? This guy who’s fundamentally arrogant and seems to not care about other people’s feelings is clearly afraid that something is going to happen.

“You know, volleyball really is a sport that chooses people. Well, what you do in it depends on the person. It’s not a sport where you can carry the ball by yourself, and even if one person is skilled, you can’t win. I’ve told you this before. Remember it.”

“I got kicked in my ass.”

Since Haijima was pouting with a bitter look on his face, a laugh unintentionally slipped out of his mouth as he recalled it. He immediately stopped when Haijima was getting more and more sullen.

“There’s also the fact that the difference in our sizes frankly makes me cry. It’s a cruel story, isn’t it. No matter how hard a guy like me works, even if I think I won’t lose in athletic ability, skill, attitude, or anything, I just can’t beat a big guy in that one factor, height. Why did I fell for volleyball, of all things?”

Too many of the words people hurled at him came from his own mouth. When he explained it to people, they made doubtful faces and couldn’t sympathize with him very much, so these days he had learned to ignore that kind of talk. Aoki wouldn’t understand this much either. They might show their understanding for me, but they wouldn’t have any sympathy for me.

Haijima didn’t worry over his answer. He tilted his head, as though thinking,　This guy’s asking something weird, and stated it definitively. He said it like he was talking about the completely natural activities of living beings, like saying,　Don’t calves stand up after they’re born?

“Isn’t it because there’s nothing more interesting than volleyball?”

Aah…I knew it.

I had a feeling he’d say that. What’s for us, the very simple truth of the world.

I wanted words from someone other than me. I wanted someone to affirm to me that it’s okay for even someone like me to be devoted to something. If a man with much more talent than me, who possibly loves volleyball more than me, said that to me, then I can believe that the time I dedicated to volleyball was never a waste.

Is there anything in this world that is as interesting as this, that can make me as passionate as this? The exhilaration when you release a powerful spike. The feeling of solidarity when a brilliant combination play is executed. The sense of accomplishment when you persevere and break away a rally with your teammates. The feeling of conquest when you force the opponent’s ace to yield with a kill block. That intoxication, when your concentration is at its peak and the team’s hearts are one, and you can clearly see the ball’s trajectory as an unbroken line——

Something hot welled up in his throat, and he suddenly felt like crying. But, it was too early for that. He still hadn’t accomplished anything yet.

So he bared his teeth and smiled instead.

“That so? Well, for me, I love volleyball to death. It’s the only thing where I’m confident that I won’t lose to anyone.”

It was funny that Haijima countered with an extremely serious expression, “I won’t lose either.”

“…Haijima. To be honest, it was for my convenience that I wanted you to join. I’m a third year now. Even so, I want to play as many games on the court as possible, even if it’s just one game. Even if it’s just for a day…even just for a minute, just a second, I wanna play volleyball. Can I borrow your strength for that reason? All of your strength…”

Wouldn’t I get the opposite result with that way of talking? No, it’s fine. These words shouldn’t make Haijima build a wall around himself. He seems to be terribly stoic to me and everyone else, but he won’t reject someone who’s facing volleyball seriously. Ultimately, it wasn’t about whether you were skilled or not, or whether you were tall or short. Whether you are serious about volleyball or not—that was the only line Haijima drew.

That’s why there was no reason to hesitate to step in. I’m holding the key to the door.

He really felt like he was gripping a small key in his right hand. Of course, when he opened his palm, there was no key actually there. However, he turned to Haijima and held out his hand as though to show it to him.

“Won’t you believe in me, Haijima?”

Haijima was silent for a while, staring at Oda’s hand with downcast eyes. He loosened his tied lips.

“…Spring Inter-High.”

A whisper slipped from his mouth.

“…You’re serious about going there, I see. A weak team that has never won a proper game within the prefecture is aiming for it, thinking they can seriously go there. The 2.43 meter net is for that reason, I see.”

Those eyes with a sharpness that seemed to pierce through anything before them were directed towards Oda’s face. He was surprised that something he only mentioned briefly a week ago seemed to have remained in Haijima’s mind. However, he was also convinced that just showed how strong his feelings were. By all rights, he shouldn’t be the kind of athlete who was stuck smouldering in a place like this.

He wasn’t saying it in a way that was making fun of him. On the contrary, if he was the one who poked fun at him even slightly or was ambiguous in his answer, he would without a doubt slap his hand away on the spot.

Neither deception nor half-hearted seriousness was allowed in front of this guy.

“Yeah. Now, all the actors are in place. I seriously believe that this year’s Seiin will definitely become a team that can go to Nationals.”

Oda also looked back into Haijima’s eyes with a piercing gaze and answered.

If you take this hand, I will have to meet your expectations with all my power. I’ll repeat it again with force in order to convey that resolve. There’s no need for complicated reasons. I’m sure that only straightforward words would reach his heart.

“I want you to believe in me. Lend me all of your strength.”

***

“Why the hell are you smiling? Did Haijima say he was going to join?”

Aoki jeered at him when he stopped by the administration tent. Am I smiling? Oda wondered, patting his cheeks. He might be.

“Who knows. Well, he’ll be coming to the next practice, won’t he?”

“Hoo. Personally, I don’t like it, but well, that’s good I guess.”

Aoki said that in a twisted and unstraightforward way. Oda, while wondering in astonishment, Weren’t you the one who set this up?, dragged a free folding chair over and sat diagonally across from Aoki. He leaned over the long table, thrusted his face at him and lowered his face, as though it was an interrogation in a detective drama.

“So, from when and how much of it all was within your calculations? Since you brought up that betting match in front of Kuroba, right? Since you stirred me up by saying you were more interested in Okuma than Haijima? No way, you’re not gonna say you were the one who arranged for Haijima to be in volleyball, are you? I don’t think it’s possible, but does that mean the ballgame tournament itself is a huge charade…”

“I must be the world’s greatest swindler then. You’re giving me too much credit. Originally, I planned to have Team F win the championship, and I wanted to go to the lodging house on the refreshing highlands and getting Haijima while we’re at it…that was all I was thinking. Well, the dream of the highlands lodging house is completely gone now. I really did want to go there.”

All but one of the administration tents that were lined up with their eaves side by side in a corner of the first sports ground were dismantled, and the lower grade members of the executive committee were clearing away the steel frames and sheets while bickering noisily. All of their voices had a listlessness to them, like they had finished burning, and they didn’t sound grating to his ears. Rather, the noise soaked pleasantly into his tired body.

On the grounds, members of the baseball club were doing somersaults. The clock tower behind the back net displayed the time of 6:15. The brightness of the sky dimmed, and grey clouds started to appear. According to the forecast, apparently it was still going to be clear during the day, but the rainy season was going to return during the night. There was the scent of approaching rain. The warm wind, which contained moisture, made his arms and body sticky again after his sweat had finally receded.

The uncoated paper with the overall results for today was posted on the tent’s support. If he thought that there was more enthusiasm about this year’s championship than last year, there was apparently a secret prize that was going to be given to the supreme general of the winning team. The contributor was the executive committee—of course Aoki was the one who was holding the wallet. That prize was the group accommodation at a lodging house on a highland area in the prefecture for summer vacation. It was a form of taking advantage of the fact that the captains of the major sports clubs were spread out across each of the third year classes and stirring up the competition between each team.

In the boys’ volleyball division, Oda’s Team F defeated Team C to win the championship. The referee Aoki’s blatant support for Team C in the first half was camouflage, and after ejecting the two first-years, he devoted himself to making fair and impartial judgements in the second half—or that was how it seemed. Skillfully weaving in a few advantageous judgements for Team F, he manipulated the outcome. He’s a crook through and through…but since it’s a school event, I can just barely forgive him, but if he pulled this kind of thing somewhere else, I’ll be done with him.

However, they didn’t perform so well in the other events, and in the end, Team F had to settle for second place overall. The guesthouse on the highlands was to be given over to another club.

“Aaah, I guess we’ll have to do it at school this summer too. It’ll be harsh without air conditioning though.”

“You know, you’re pretty practical even though you don’t look it…”

“Dunno what you mean by not looking practical, but I’ll accept the compliment. Well, the things you can get with cheap tricks aren’t that important, and there are plenty of things you can’t get...” a loud yawn slipped out from his wide mouth.

“Are you going to the after party? The first and second-years worked hard today, so we gotta thank them.”

“Sorry, but I’ll have to pass. I don’t mind splitting the money in half. I didn’t sleep for three days to finish up preparations.”

“Three days? And yet you managed to get in two games.”

“It’d be tough to do three games. When the old teacher collapsed, I thought in my head, ‘I’m saved.’”

He leaned back deeply on his folding chair, causing it to creak, and when he bent his neck and tilted it left and right, there was a cracking sound. Though he wondered if it was okay to speak that way about an elderly person, it seemed that after he rested in the infirmary for nearly an hour, he had readily recovered and went along with the teachers to their after-party, so perhaps it was okay for Aoki to say that, considering all his toil.

During this ball game tournament, which included preparations, while Oda was just saying he wanted Haijima like a spoiled brat, just how hard was Aoki working, even using his influence, for the sake of the whole team? When it came to Haijima, even though he wasn’t supposed to have agreed to it, he considered Oda’s feelings and took action like it was a matter of course. It had completely slipped from his mind, but it was time to think about summer training camps.

Since they knocked on the door of the boys’ volleyball club in April two years ago, he had helped him one-sidedly until now. The prodigy who had student council duties, and who on top of that could get accepted to Kyoto University, probably had any number of things he could do besides volleyball, unlike Oda. He felt a deep sense of guilt that because he invited him that day—because they were “Aoki” and “Oda”, an unexpected intrusion ended up coming into Aoki’s life.

“Ah, hey…thanks for everything…”

It was too embarrassing to say it now after two years, and he couldn’t look him in the eyes. He was grateful for the gap between their lines of sight right then. Every time he was covered for, it only deepened his own sense of inferiority, and he had never thanked him face-to-face until now.

Good grief, it’s not just my outside, I’m also tiny and worthless on the inside.

“But, sorry…you’re going to have to go along with my selfishness for just a little longer.”

His debt would increase even more in the future. It seemed that Aoki won’t be able to concentrate on his exams for a while yet.

“…That’s just like you.”

Aoki mumbled to himself, his head still turned away. From Oda’s position, he could only see his chin moving slightly, and he had no idea what expression he had on his face.

“You’re giving me too much credit. I’m feeling guilty now. Playing volleyball with you is what I want to do right now, and I’m not doing it unwillingly. I don’t need to be thanked at all. I’ve been saying this since before, but me not liking Haijima is completely my personal feelings, and I’m the one who’s just being selfish. I don’t really care about going to university or not, and I don’t mind if you want me to lower my rank so we can go to the same place…I’m basically just driven by my ulterior motives.”

“Ulterior motives?”

There was the sound of water drops hitting the roof of the tent. The people working outside the tent looked up at the sky and exclaimed, “It’s starting to rain?”

“…You don’t have to understand.”

Aoki raised his head slowly, like a giraffe stretching its neck to find leaves that were just right, and stifled another yawn. Then, he turned towards him and lifted the edge of his mouth.

“Let’s go to Spring Inter-High. I’ll follow you until the end.”

For Oda, that thin, ironic smile was more reliable and trustworthy than anything.

The prefectural preliminaries would start at the end of September, two months later. If they won there, his retirement would be extended until the final representative deciding match in November. And if they managed to win the representative deciding match, then it would be until the nationals in January——. Just one game more. Just a day, a minute, a second longer. In order to delay the “end” just a little bit longer, they third-years would clumsily make every effort with all their ability.

When the rainy season ended, their final summer would arrive. There was no doubt that that summer would be like a condensed version of the rest of their lives after graduation. His doubts about his career path cleared up. He would put all he had into everything he could do and wanted to do right now. He didn’t care if the next few decades would be the rest of his life. Even if he burned out here and had nothing left within him, he wouldn’t regret it now.

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#2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43 book 1 #2.43 translation #2.43: seiin high school boys volleyball club #2.43

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joonietonin · 4 years

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Ethan Ramsey's Character Development (Open Heart, Book 2)

Throughout Book 1, Ethan had made a slow but impactful progress. Come Book 2, and as MC herself says, "We've got ourselves a brand new Ethan Ramsey" this statement holds true, not only referring to his droolworthy beard and his new jacket but also to his growth in character. So.. yeah, this is me analysing the changes in his character, which, if I may say so, has so much depth and progression to it. [My MC is female, pronouns: she/her]

• He literally went to another continent for two whole months to get over MC. He is truly, madly and deeply in love with her. I will not take no for an answer.

• He is trying not to call her 'Rookie' anymore. Well, I personally want him to call MC as a Rookie because I think we all find it very endearing but ever since MC told him how she's not a Rookie anymore, it's kind of really sweet that he's trying to call her by her first name.

• He is still trying to spend time with her. Although he claims that they cannot be romantically involved anymore, he is desperately trying for some one on one time with her. He's really really not over her huh? Even after being gone to the literal Amazon for two months, he still is very much in love with her. So much so, even when MC kisses him in Chapter 1, he doesn't pull away. He leans into her touch, her kiss. And when MC says he can tell her if he doesn't want to kiss her anymore.. it pains him to admit the truth that, "It has nothing to do with want. I can't. And if I give a damn about you, I won't." The statement is such a bittersweet confession of how much he cares about MC. He proclaims that he does want her and he needs her but he cannot be with her, rather will not be with her to push her to become the best doctor she can be. Also later in Chapter 2, during the gym scene if MC chooses to stretch with Ethan he's very open to offer her help to stretch knowing very well that they'll be in close proximity with each other.

• He reassures MC about her actions. Throughout Book 1, MC has made quite some controversial decisions and if there was one person who has always supported her decisions no matter how crazy they were, it was Ethan Ramsey. Similarly, in Book 2 Ethan reassures her that when she defended the girl from Dr. Thorne's unwelcome advances, it was the right thing to do. Even if your MC chooses to say it wasn't the right thing, he reassures by saying that it should be. He supports her,"What you did just now was brave. You've always been brave in the face of disaster and death, of course.. But it's different when you're facing down a superior. To stand up to them for what's right." So yeah, we stan a supportive husband.

• He admits his flaws and let's his guard down in front of MC. If you know Ethan Ramsey, you know he has the tallest concrete walls built around him letting no one, I repeat no one, see him at his vulnerability. Except for MC, of course. Slowly but surely MC broke down some parts of those walls and he didn't seem to mind it. If this were someone else he would have never let them even take one brick out of his tall walls. With MC, it was different. In Book 2, Ethan admits his flaw. He let's his guard down when MC praises him for being so brave to travel across the Amazon fighting a deadly epidemic. He let's her know the real reason why he went away,"That wasn't bravery.. I.. needed space.. I needed to reset before.." and almost immediately MC knew what was up. So yeah, it's really nice that we get to see the vulnerable and soft side of the usually tough, strong and brave Ethan Jonah Ramsey.

• He knows MC like the back of his hand. He knows when something's wrong. He can sense if MC is tensed or worried or just sad. He has always been very heedful of MC's feelings like the time (in Book 1) he took her out to the opera when she was feeling miserable. Similarly in Book 2, when MC feels overwhelmed by the quick working in the diagnostics team, Ethan takes one look at her face and knows what's up. He let's her know about all the work she has to do as a second year resident but his authoritative tone changes into a more comforting one when he asks her, "Is everything all right, MC?"

• He still provides her with advice that she needs and fulfills his role as a mentor without shutting her out completely. Given the complexity of their relationship and Ethan's fear that they could cross the line, it wouldn't be surprising if he shut her out completely but that's not the case in Book 2. He's very mindful of her needs, especially as his mentee. He gives her the advice that she needs and eases her worries. And he even asks her about how she felt about the diagnostics team and they get a few laughs out of it. He's tender when she puts her hand over his. He stares at her hand, gently rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb letting her know how much he wants her but he can't.. so when MC gives him reassurance, he tells her, "We'll be okay. We'll make it work." That sentence itself is almost foreshadowing their future where they *maybe* will find a way to be together as well as work efficiently.

• He is kind and gentle these days. If we all know Ethan Ramsey, we know that he does not waste an opportunity to retort MC, be it describing her as 'a colossal pain in the ass' or that time he tells her how 'amazing it was that she didn't kill the patient' referring to her amateur skills. But now? He doesn't retort when it comes to her. He's kind, gentle and understanding. Therefore, when MC tells him that she feels like a clueless intern all over again, he tells her calmly, "Because you are clueless, comparatively speaking." MC thinks he's making fun of her but Ethan quickly corrects her saying, "It wasn't an insult." So yeah, Ethan Ramsey is a softie. Next!

• MC's wish is his command. Ethan does not really need approval from anybody to do something. He's never the one who has needed validation yet when it comes to MC, he needs, and I mean needs, to know what she thinks about his new look. Be it his jacket. Or his beard. Depending on your choices, if your MC chooses to let Ethan know that she misses his famous jawline, he drops in next morning with a shaved face. Similarly when MC keeps staring at Ethan and he asks her what's wrong and if your MC lets him know how she can't see his eyes with his glasses on. He immediately takes them off proclaiming, "If you insist... There. Happy now?" As I had said in a previous post, had this been any other person he would not have bothered to ask their opinion on his new look let alone change his look for them. Bottom-line is: HE IS WHIPPED.

• He doesn't shy away from praising MC. It is rare to get a compliment out of Ethan Ramsey so it's really sweet that Ethan has been so vocal about how great a doctor MC is. He does not shy away from telling others how proud he is of his wife MC. Be it to her own intern when he tells her, "Well, Dr. Ortega.. Dr. MC is one of our best. Consider yourself lucky." Or the instance where MC correctly diagnoses the Governor's son and the Governor states how lucky the hospital is to have a doctor like MC. Ethan is quick to reaffirm her beliefs by saying, "We certainly are." Also, during the dinner scene, the Governor says how Ethan had mentioned MC as the "bright future of Edenbrook" I mean, this man is a whole damn supportive husband material.

• He considers how helpful MC is when it comes to social situations. It goes back to that scene in Book 1 where Ethan asks for MC's help during his meeting with officials at the baseball game. MC had proved how resourceful and well-spoken she can be in an important social situation. Ethan certainly remembers that.. therefore when the Governor insists she come to dinner with Dr. Banerji, Dr. Emery and Dr. Ramsey, Ethan lets her know, "I could really use your help with the Governor. You know I'm no good at this political stuff." In the past year they've come close enough to know each other's strengths and vulnerabilities hence it's really cute that Ethan chooses to ask for her help rather than pretending to be good at something he's not.

• He does really love her very very much. While MC impresses the Governor with her thoughts on how important the community is for a town like Boston to grow and prosper. His knee touches MC's as a sign of approval and pride over what she had just said even though he made it seem like an innocent mistake. It is also very thoughtful and cute that he dropped Harper first and then turned his car back to drop MC even though MC's apartment came first in the route. He really wanted to spend some alone time with her. Hence after a few jokes about how she should have skipped the fifth course and how the rich live a disgustingly lavish life... He also assures her about whether or not they convinced the Governor by saying, "Thanks to you, yes. I think we did." Therefore when MC chooses to scoot closer and rest her head in the warmth and comfort of his shoulder, Ethan can't help but smile his heart out wanting that peace and privacy to never end. Also when MC jokingly suggests how Ethan would not come up for a nightcap at her apartment he just smiles ruefully and says goodnight. So.. all I'm trying to prove is that Ethan Jonah Ramsey is whipped. Period.

• He doesn't hide his problems from her anymore. Remember the time Ethan told MC about Dr. Banerji only because our curious MC found Dr. Banerji in the empty wing? Yeah, so that's changed. Ethan knows that he can trust MC with his life. Therefore when MC senses something is wrong with Ethan as he looks outside the window solemnly, he does not try to hide what's happening from her. He knows that he can confide in her and let her knowing how Edenbrook was in trouble. It's like he knows he doesn't have to fight his battles alone anymore and that MC would be there for him every step of the way.

So yeah, that was it. Feel free to add more points you might have noticed in Ethan's behaviour. I've been wanting to write this for a long time but didn't really have to courage to continue on given how longgggg this post would be but here it is! Thank you if you have read it till here, I'm grateful. Also I'm very hyped about today's chapter and also a bit mad at our dumb MC now that we know she has done something really really stupid to enrage the entire hospital! But that's something we'll have to deal with later! For now let's just bask in the joy of knowing how whipped and in love Ethan Ramsey is. (≧▽≦)

#open heart #playchoices #choices: open heart #open heart 2 #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc

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kilyra · 5 years

Text

You Shouldn’t Have Come

Eric Northman with Pam cameo (True Blood) One-Shot

A/N: Well, absolutely no one directly requested this, but I’m carrying on with the Eric Northman arc because I love him, I’m trash, and this is my offering - so this is following “You Will”, “You Did, Sweetheart”, and “You a Fangbanger, now?”.

When Eric stops showing up, you decide you want answers...a decision you quickly regret.

Warnings: Bit of violence. But considering the source...not really. I do have some Swedish between Pam and Eric and I just used Google Translate, so if you know the language and can send me corrections, please do! No spoilers though (I myself am only on S3 or 4, so this is an early Eric style fic…also, please don’t send me any spoilers).

If you want to be on my tag lists, (all or just a character) just let me know! (Credit for this amazing gif goes to @bonniebird. Thank you SO much!)

Tightly gripping the steering wheel of your truck, you stared at Fangtasia's surprisingly empty parking lot for what felt like an eternity. The recent shadow over your life, Eric Northman, finally stopped coming around. In your head, you knew that was a good thing…but you only realized he wasn't there after you spent several nights awake. Waiting. You told yourself it was to get answers but your disappointment grew each night.

And, suddenly, you found yourself on the road.

For the entire drive, you managed to ignore the rational voice that said going to his nightclub was stupid. Dangerous even. It wasn't until you were actually there that the doubt truly crept in.

Pressing yourself against the back of your seat, you looked over at the simple, red neon sign. Coming might be stupid but...it was also stupid to come this far and just drive away again. Right?

Letting out a long sigh, you finally dragged yourself out of the cab and closed the door with a little extra force than usual. It was maybe four whole steps before you hesitated again.

This was stupid. Go home.

Growling to yourself, you turned on your heel towards the truck. And that's when you heard it.

There was a soft rustle of fabric and as you turned back, you saw three...men...standing between you and the bar. Tilting his head, the one in the centre frowned as he cooed. “Aww, leaving so soon?”

You shouldn't have come.

Your stomach jumped to your throat and every muscle in your body tightened. A quiet terror tore through you as you wordlessly stepped backward toward your truck. Digging for your keys, your hands shook so hard, you doubted you could get them out nevermind unlock the damn truck.

As you watched, they all grinned but the tallest man in the centre became...blurry. A dark shape flew towards you, suddenly darkening your vision. Gasping, you scrambled back but strong hands clasped your shoulder in an iron grip.

“Hey now, baby, we just want to have a little fun.” The voice was in your ear and you realized he was leaning into you, his shoulder blocking your view of the others. But you could still hear them laugh.

Fighting the black spots that were pulsing across your vision, you threw your weight back, refusing to faint. Panic drenched every fibre of your being as he effortlessly held you in place, his fangs glistening in the streetlight. Twisting against his powerful grasp, your attempts at escaping immediately grew feral, and you started shouting incoherently.

You – you really shouldn't have come.

Just as you managed to see past the vamp's arm, another blurred figure streaked across the parking lot. One of the onlookers was jerked off his feet and slammed into the other, both of them falling in a heap. The dark shape flew towards you and with a deep growl, your attacker seemed to disappear.

Taking a ragged breath, a new scream caught in your throat as you lurched back from your sudden freedom. Roughly crumpling on the pavement, pain shot up your spine as you fought to get your feet under you. But a loud crunch caught your attention.

Freezing, you glanced back to your truck in time to see it rock along its edge. It settled back on its tires with a wide dent smashed into the side. But there was nothing there.

Before you had a chance to react, a new hand gripped your arm, lifting you to your feet. Desperately pulling away, you looked up at the attacker. Only it wasn't him. It was Eric Northman.

Towering above you and staring ahead, he was a flawless marble statue in the pale moonlight. In your surreal moment of terror, he appeared to you like a god in a peasant's dream and for a second, everything felt still.

Dropping his arm across your chest and tucking you back a step, he watched the two vampires who were back on their feet. With their fangs out and lips curled back in a snarl, they were glaring as though they could kill with just their stares. From beside Eric, you finally saw the third vampire limping towards his friends. He was clearly seething but giving you a wide berth.

As the men sized each other up, a heavy feeling of dread tugged at your limbs. You didn't belong here. Peaceful co-existence was a sick joke that humans bought into because they really didn't have a choice. This seconds-long shoving match showed you they had the unnatural power to wipe humanity off the face of the earth with the smallest of efforts if they chose. What hope was there, really, against a creature that moved too fast for your eyes to track?

“I'm feeling generous. Convince me to let you leave here in one piece.” Eric's dangerously low voice violently pulled you from your spiralling thoughts.

The ones across from you exchanged looks as they shifted between their feet. The third joined them, hunching slightly as a glimmer of anger shone in his eyes. He was the one that spoke for the group. “We were just...playing.”

“You were attacking a human...my human...in the open, on my property.”

My human?

Their glares softened as the words rolled through your mind. What did that even mean?

To them, it seemed to mean something serious as the spokesman straightened and spread his hands apart. The fact that it was three against one didn't bolster them as they backed down immediately. Maybe it was because of some unwritten rules, or maybe they were aware of just how easily Eric tossed each of them around already. “Yours?”

“Mine. Not to be touched.” Cold waves of fury rolled off him, but somehow his calm facade remained unchanged.

“W-we didn't know.”

“But you did know you were on Fangtasia property – a place I have publicly declared to be safe for our kind and humans alike. And the last thing I need is idiots like you getting the attention of law enforcement and putting me under further investigation.” There was a perfect mixture of irritation and disgust in his tone as he delivered his short lecture.

Again, the quiet pair nervously glanced at each other. Their fangs were no longer out. The taller one didn't take his eyes off Eric as he quickly nodded. "Sorry...we're sorry. Please, just...we'll leave now."

Eric's focus slowly moved between each vampire, each shrinking slightly under his scrutiny. Lowering his chin, he levelled his stare at the leader. “That would be wise.”

All you felt was a blast of air as you saw blurry streaks rush from the parking lot. A wave of relief rushed over you when you realized there wasn't going to be a fight. No matter who won, how long could a paper doll last in the midst of fighting titans?

As you worked to not sink to your knees, you looked up at Eric who was still watching over the empty area. Your mind scrambled for something to focus on. “M-mine? What does that mean?”

He was quiet for a moment longer before finally looking down at you. Nothing in his features relaxed as his eyes scanned over your face. “It means your stupidity won't get you killed tonight.”

Any relief you felt was quickly swallowed by confusion and anger before drowning in another surge of fear as he grabbed your arm. Without another word, he marched across the parking lot with you in tow, firmly gripping above your elbow.

Digging in your heels didn't slow him but you felt the bruise forming under his fingers as he continued and you were forced to catch up. He hadn't even flexed his hand.

You wanted to go home. It was hard to breathe through the desperation bursting in your chest, and the horror of being pulled inside Fangtasia made it worse.

Soon, you were led through the dim bar with music so loud that it forced patrons to lean in close to talk. The sexual tension could be cut with a knife but all you felt was terror for the people flirting with the wolves. You wanted to scream at them to run, to get back to their homes and not invite anything in. They weren't playing equal parts in some sexy game, they were merely being allowed to live.

As Eric pulled you into a side hall, you caught his throat working as he heavily swallowed. “How much fear can a human have before the heart gives out?”

Ice gripped your chest. Was that...some sort of threat? You managed to find your voice, as shaky as it was. “W-what?”

Squeezing his eyes closed for a second as you stopped outside a door, he exhaled softly. “Just...take a breath. You're safe now, you can relax.”

As he opened the door, a woman swivelled in her chair to shoot him a passive look of disinterest. Brushing her blonde hair back over her shoulder, her eyebrow arched as her gaze passed over you. Looking back at him, her blood-red lips twisted into an amused grin. "Got yourself a plaything have you?"

Guiding you towards the couch on along the wall of the stark office, he only let go once you were left with no option but to sit. You would have been insulted, but you were numb to anything other than blind fear. Running was pointless, you knew that. But that's all you wanted to do. Not even the irrational attraction you had to Eric after the dreams started could penetrate the wall of horror. For the first time in weeks, you didn't feel any pull towards the vampire. He claimed you were safe, but the short display in the parking lot was the reality check you had needed. He wasn't human. How could you actually be safe?

“No Pam, I haven't. Leave us.” Eric waved his hand towards the hall as he leaned against the desk to face you.

Rising from her chair, Pam didn't seem in a hurry to leave. “A pet then? That can be a lot of fun, you'll see.”

“Leave us...now.”

“Du är inte kul,” she sighed with a soft pout as she moved towards the door.

His eyes flickered to hers as he offered the faintest of fleeting smiles. “Är jag någonsin?”

Pam's light laugh lingered as she left the room. His icy eyes settled on you as the door clicked shut. “You would run into less trouble if you were visibly mine.”

Instinctively, your hand covered your neck as the bottom dropped out of your stomach. “Don't bite me. I don't...I don't want that.”

The edge of his eyebrow lifted as he openly let his eyes wander down to your throat. Smirking at your hand, he looked back up at you. “My asking is just a courtesy. I could just...mark you.”

Despite the dull panic that throbbed through your body, you felt a lick of heat down your spine. Gritting your teeth against the shiver, you tightened your hand over your neck. “Then I guess I'm lucky you're so courteous.”

With a final chuckle, he let his smirk die away, taking all traces of good humour with it. “Tell me why you came.”

“It doesn't matter.” The thick words came out in a forced mumble.

“That wasn't a question,” he said flatly. His stare intensified as he tilted his head and waited for a reply.

They can glamour. The realization stabbed deep in your gut and you immediately dropped your eyes down to your lap. Your racing pulse forced dizzying spikes through your body as you tried to think. “It really doesn't matter. I-I had questions. Why did you keep coming around and then...why you stopped but..now I only care about how I can get back home alive.”

At the edge of your view, you saw his feet move as he crossed them and settled back on the desk. "You're not entirely defenseless, you know. Stake through the heart, silver, sunlight...all very effective against my kind. We're especially vulnerable when we sleep since we sleep like the dead."

Your eyebrows pulled together as you looked back up at him, forgetting about the danger of being glamoured. “Why...why are you telling me this?”

Casually drawing his shoulder up in a lazy shrug, he finally stopped studying you, letting his gaze drift over the room. “Because knowledge is power and feeling empowered can alleviate fear. And I would appreciate being able to think clearly again.”

As he finished, his eyes were back on you and you felt heat rising to your cheeks. “I don't understand...you can feel my...”

Nodding slowly to your fragmented sentences, he finally spoke over you. “Yes. When you took my blood, it formed a...bond, if you will. I did it to better keep track of you in case Sookie's fears were realized, but it also results in me feeling your emotions – particularly strong ones.”

For the first time since you left your truck, you felt the tension in your shoulders relax as your heart stopped trying to pound its way out of your chest. You didn't think to question why that was a comfort.

Eric let a soft sigh escape through his nose but seemed otherwise unaffected as he continued. "I stopped coming because, as you pointed out, there was no danger. Isn't that what you wanted?"

His eyes searched yours as though he were looking for answers. Suddenly self-conscious, you realized you were still clutching your neck. Hastily, you dropped your hand as everything churned.

Was that what you wanted? You couldn't think clearly...you couldn't think at all. Darting your tongue over your dry lips, your words came out haltingly when you finally spoke. “I...I just want to go home.”

Time seemed to slow as his stare lingered. A confusing flutter joined the churning in your chest as the moment stretched on until he finally nodded. “Pam.”

The door opened, revealing Pam standing in the entrance as though she had been there the entire time. Her lifted eyebrow was her only reply as she strode into the room.

“Please see to it that Y/n returns home safely.”

Rushing to your feet, you squeezed past her towards the door. Towards your freedom. You didn't even want to risk a look back. “It's fine, I can get myself home.”

Without seeing her, you could hear the amused purr in Pam's tone. “There, you see? It’s fine.”

As you hurried from the room, Eric's growl fell on your ears. “Sedan följer du, Pam.”

Her irritated sigh was the last thing you heard before the music from the club drowned everything out. You didn't care what else you missed as you rushed out of Fangtasia – all that mattered was getting to your truck. It was safety. Deeply dented safety. You could only truly exhale once you were locked into the cab and you were beyond grateful when it roared to life just fine.

Blissfully unaware of the fact that Pam had been ordered to follow you home, you felt nothing but relief as you drove away. Relief and...well...more confusion...

My human?

Swedish translations...I think: 1) “You’re no fun” 2) “Am I ever?” 3) “Then you follow, Pam”

Taglist: @foreverfaeries @flower-two @getlostinyourparadise @selfishkiddo @angelicshinigami @pansmexualparker @thatchampagnebitch @mysteryoflovve @edweirdoddlepot @divadinag @crazy-fandom-girl1 @givemeabite @breanime @shondlenoodle @hermionesalvatore84 @dyingformyships @divadinag @dreamers-wonderland

#eric northman x reader #true blood #eric x reader

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songwritingswift · 4 years

Text

folklore First Impressions

1. the 1

I instantly loved the nostalgic feel, created by the warm and gentle production. It had gorgeous lyrics with beautiful imagery and the melody felt easy and natural; I was singing along by the end of my first listen. It was instantly a favourite.

You know the greatest films of all time were never made // You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

2. cardigan

This one felt darker and a little more jaded with slightly more chaotic production. But it still had a warmth to it; it reminded me of a fire on a winter evening. The lyrics were detailed with more beautiful imagery.

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time

Chasing shadows in the grocery line

3. the last great american dynasty

This one has such an expansive, detailed story and I just loved the idea of this truly shameless woman but I didn’t personally connect to the song until it flipped and the story turned personal and then I was grinning like an idiot. The production felt very fitting with the story being told and again, the detail (and wide vocabulary) made for a great song.

Who knows, if I never showed up what could’ve been

There goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen

I had a marvellous time ruining everything

I had a marvellous time

Ruining everything

4. exile feat. Bon Iver

This is the collaboration I never knew to hope for. Bon Iver has a gorgeous voice and I just loved the two opposite sides, telling their story both in concert and over each other in a way that only intensified an already incredibly emotive song. It was an instant favourite and had me sobbing on the first listen. The lyrics were absolutely stunning and while I loved pretty much all of them, I really loved the first and final lines of the main chorus. There was just something about it that hit me square in the chest.

I think I’ve seen this film before

And I didn’t like the ending

I’m not your problem anymore

So who am I offending now?

You were my crown

Now I’m in exile seeing you out

I think I’ve seen this film before

5. my tears ricochet

The vocals in this one were particularly gorgeous and the lyrics were gorgeous and rich, kind of reminding me of velvet and stately rooms. The story is a mystery but beautifully detailed and I’m looking forward to listening over and over again until I understand it better.

I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace

‘Cause when I’d fight, you used to tell me I was brave

And if I’m dead to you why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name

Wishing I’d stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

6. mirrorball

I instantly loved the guitar sound and I just loved the lyrics, how fragile they were but still so full of hope for love. It had some really beautiful lyrics and somehow, the whole song – lyrics, melody, and production – sounded just like a mirror ball.

Hush

I know they said the end is near

But I’m still on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

7. seven

I found this one a bit hard to follow but it had real character and some beautiful lyrics. I also really loved the relationship between the characters in the song.

Please picture me

In the weeds

Before I learned civility

I used to scream

Ferociously

Any time I wanted

8. august

This one just sounded like a hazy summer day to me and the story was just so clear. The production was full and glorious and again, I loved the relationship between the two characters and the obvious complexity of their relationship, even though we don’t know who they really are or if they’re real at all.

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away

Like a bottle of wine

‘Cause you were never mine

9. this is me trying

I was instantly struck by the production: thick and stunning and emotional. And I loved the reverb on the vocal and how it added to the emotion of the song. It was a favourite straight away, with gorgeous lyrics and imagery, and it was so honest and vulnerable in its simplicity. I just wanted to close my eyes and live in it. I found the rhythm of the bridge a little bit jarring but I’m sure I’ll get used to that with more listening. It seemed more real than some of the others. I’m not sure why but some of them just seemed more real.

I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying

I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying

At least I’m trying

10. illicit affairs

It took me a while to get into this one – I found the verses lyrically beautifully but the rhythms tripped me up a little – but I loved the stripped back-ness of it. I loved the chorus lyrics and I adored the bridge: the pain and the fury in it were just so real, so brutally honest and vulnerable.

And you wanna scream

Don’t call me kid

Don’t call me baby

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

You showed me colours you know I can’t see with anyone else

Don’t call me kid

Don’t call me baby

Look at this idiotic fool that you made me

You taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone one else

And you know damn well

For you I would ruin myself

A million little times

11. invisible string

I thought this one told a really lovely story with both tongue-in-cheek lyrics and beautifully sincere ones. But I didn’t like something about the production of the vocal, something that made it a little uncomfortable to listen to.

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons

Wool to brave the seasons

One single thread of gold tied me to you

12. mad woman

Definitely the biggest oh-my-god of the album. I kind of wanted it to be a huge, relentless wall of sound but I think the calm, beautifully honed steel approach is probably more effective, given the subject matter (whether you believe it’s about Scott Borchetta, Scooter Braun, or Kanye West). I loved it and loved her refusal to be shamed for being angry. The lyrics were truly awesome and I loved how she went straight for the jugular, all in in an incredibly gratifying demotion.

Does she smile?

Or does she mouth, “fuck you forever?”

13. epiphany

I found this one hard to listen to because the emotions were so raw but it was beautifully written, a stunning tribute to the people described and their stories. I cried from the first verse until long after the song finished.

With you, I serve

With you, I fall down

Down

Watch you breathe in

Watch you breathing out

Out

14. betty

I thought this big, busy story was told really well but I didn’t really connect with the characters. I just ended up getting distracted wondering who the characters were, who the songs were about. The production also wasn’t really a style I love but the key change did make me smile.

But if I showed up at your party

Would you have me?

Would you want me?

Would tell me to go fuck myself

Or lead me to the garden?

15. peace

This is, I think, one of the most beautiful, vulnerable, honest love songs I’ve ever heard. It reminds me of wedding vows, of all of the promises she’s willing to make but then asking him if they’re enough to outweigh the hard times. She lays everything bare and I think that’s part of what makes the song so special. The production is also simply gorgeous (even though I would’ve loved a big, glittering bridge but I get that that’s not how this genre or style seems to work). It was another real favourite and I was a puddle of tears by the end.

Our coming of age has come and gone

Suddenly this summer it’s clear

I had the courage of my convictions

As long as danger is near

And it’s just around the corner, darlin’

‘Cause it lives in me

No, I could never give you peace

16. hoax

This one feels intricately connected to ‘peace’ somehow: a darker but still painfully honest, vulnerable love song. Having said that, I could be completely wrong. I don’t feel like I fully understand it with just one listen because there are just so many lyrics and metaphors and emotions to unpack but I’m looking forward to listening to it over and over again and sharing theories with other fans until I understand it better. But back to the song, the beautiful lyrics are only accentuated by the simple production. It ends the album on a very complex note, which isn’t something she traditionally does.

You know I left a part of me back in New York

You knew the hero died, so what’s the movie for

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars

From when they pulled me apart

#ramblings #personal post #folklore #taylor swift #first impressions #folklore first impressions

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my-miraculous-headcanons · 5 years

Text

𝕮𝖆𝖙𝖋𝖎𝖘𝖍 : Part I

[Next] [AO3]

In all his seven years of being a pirate, Adrien had never been truly stunned enough to fully break character.

The infamous Chat Noir had a reputation to uphold. Handsome though he may be, he was frequently described as a creature that crawled out of the very depths of hell. He showed no mercy, took pleasure in watching his victims beg, and was considered a strategical genius, although his strategies were borderline suicidal at times. (They always work, didn’t they?) With how often he danced upon the fine line between the dead and living, he even had rumors circling the far kingdoms of being immortal.

Of course, what not many know is that pirates were typically theatrical. A lot of the fear they invoked from the masses was brought about by intentional performances, usually for the purpose of making their lives easier. Black Beard was a stellar example; Adrien knows the man likes to set the ends of his beard aflame before pillaging merchant ships, and really, who in their right mind would not comply to the demands of a man whose face is framed by hellfire?

Yes, their performances may be considered overdramatic, but it’s effective.

Which is why Adrien has never truly allowed himself to break character. As Chat Noir, he is dangerous, cocky, and clever. His crimes are typically large-scale, like defeating an entire fleet of 63 naval ships with just his one, or single-handedly taking control of an entire town and turning it into a pirate rest stop by faking the mayor’s death and impersonating his son.

Hah. That last one is definitely one of his favourite adventures.

His crimes are big and loud and meant to truly broadcast just how much of a threat Chat Noir truly is, going hand-in-hand with the persona he had created. Naturally, this led him to, at some point, decide that robbing the seaside palace belonging to King Tom Dupain and Queen Sabine Cheng of Merveilleux was a fine idea. And, of course, kidnapping their only daughter to ensure a safe departure, just to add a little pizazz.

Things did not go as planned, however. It was rare when things don’t go as planned.

It was even rarer to find a King, the type of men Adrien was used to being stoic bastards, break down into messy tears and bow at his feet.

“Please return my daughter,” he begged. “Please, I will give you anything you desire, you will be allowed to leave peacefully, but please, do not take my beautiful little girl away from me.”

Adrien, along with every member of his crew, were stunned.

“Uh,” Adrien— wait, no— Chat Noir said, darting his eyes around the vast throne room. “Are– Are you crying? Please stop doing that.”

For some reason, this makes King Tom sob even harder, leaning his head even further to the ground until his bow could go no lower.

“No, just. No. Get up.”

He’s aware that he’s getting flustered, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He had expected many things to happen in this heist, but for the King to immediately bow before his feet was just... Not on the list of things he had considered feasible. He was wholly unprepared for this interaction, and taking a look at the faces of his crew, they look no more prepared than him.

This was just really uncomfortable.

Thankfully, Nino finally enters the throne room from the door directly behind the King, along with the three other crewmates he was given to retrieve Princess Marinette. The perfect distraction.

Nino was momentarily halted by the sight of the sobbing man in front of his Captain, but he continued to walk forward and whisper the news into his ear.

“We could not retrieve the package, sir,” he said. “We searched the entire castle. She’s nowhere to be found.”

And this is when things really started to get confusing.

“What the actual fuck,” he says, not really caring if the King hears him or not. “He’s begging for her return, Carapace. He’s already gotten news of her kidnapping, and we didn’t tell him. Her Majesty was already passed out on the throne from the news. Look at her! She was like that before we even got here!”

Just as he said, Queen Sabine sat unconscious on her throne, tear tracks staining her cheeks. He’s thankful, truly, that she is no longer awake, because if she’s anything like her husband, Chat wasn’t confident that he’d be able to handle their combined blubbering.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Captain,” Nino says, grimacing down at the sobbing father. “It wasn’t us.”

That drastically changes things.

Without Princess Marinette physically being in their possession, they cannot promise to drop her at the nearest port in return for their safe departure. A lie like that could end up with the King believing that they either kept her or killed her, breaking the deal, and would result in him sending out every single ship at his disposal in order to eradicate Chat Noir and his crew. A fleet of 63 ships was one thing, but having hundreds of ships on their tail? Really, really bad.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Chat Noir snaps at the King. “Get up! Stop your crying and begging, I’m sick of it! Are you a king or are you an infant? Up, up!”

King Tom scrambles to right himself, once again surprising the pirates. It was difficult to tell, with him pressed so far to the ground, but now it was evident that the man was easily the tallest and the beefiest man in the room. However, with his eyes so red, and the way he sniffles miserably, he still somehow managed to make himself seem rather small.

A part of Adrien is envious of Princess Marinette. Seven years ago, he remembers the way his own father had reacted in the face of his only son’s disappearance. Cold, impassive. Just like most noblemen.

“We do not have your daughter,” he says, clearly catching the King by surprise. “I won’t deny that we planned it, but unfortunately, that didn’t seem to pan out. We are only here to take whatever valuables we can find, and leave.”

“There is nothing more valuable in this palace than my beloved daughter,” the man whispers to himself. “I... I do not care what you take. Strip the walls bare for all I care. It does not matter.”

The King turns, drags his feet as he approaches his wife, and kneels before her. He takes her hands, buries his face into her lap, and shakes.

Adrien knows he isn’t the only person in the room that feels very, very guilty at the sight. They may not have personally kidnapped the girl themselves, but there’s no denying that if she had been taken just recently, then the ones responsible for poking holes in the castle’s defense and making her kidnapping possible was them.

“Your guard is incompetent,” Chat says, causing the King to look over his shoulder. “They rely on numbers to make up for the fact that, in one-on-one confrontations, they fight predictably with the use of chivalrous technique that typically leaves them open to attack. They have no concept of the idea of fighting dirty, their speed suffers for the sake of accuracy despite the former clearly being more important than the latter, they have no control over their emotions and their presentation, which makes them appear as weak as they are, and their uniforms are impractical and a hinderance in their performance. They favour—”

“What good does that do me?!”

The King was towering him in seconds, his roar loud enough to make the walls tremor. In that instant, and just for that instant, Adrien felt genuine fear, and had taken a step back at the furious gleam in the King’s eyes.

“My daughter is gone! My guard has already failed! What use is this knowledge to me when the worst possible outcome has already been reached? I cannot pull off a miracle and get them in shape fast enough to save her! By that time, she could already be dead! There was no ransom, no demands, they must be... She could be...”

Just as King Tom began to wilt as his mind ran wild with the possible fates of his daughter, Chat Noir intervened with a confident smirk.

“True, you could not pull off that miracle. Your guard is incompetent and have no chance at retrieving her. However,” Chat’s grin is wide and devious. “We do. Tell me, your Majesty, you are capable of paying in more than just things like diamonds and gold, are you not? Say, immunity in your country, land, unlimited supplies, ships, and more?”

“I, er,” the King stutters, opening and closing his mouth reminicent to a fish. “I can only go as far as to promise pardon for past crimes, but as for the rest of your demands... Yes. Yes, I am capable of that.”

“Well then,” Chat Noir holds his hand out. “I think we can come to a deal, don’t you agree? Land, supplies, ships, and official pardon for our past crimes... in exchange for the return of your daughter.”

Without even a second of hesitation, the King takes hold of the Captain’s hand, shaking it firmly.

“Deal.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #ML #Maximilian's Writing #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Tom Dupain #Sabine Cheng #Nino Lahiffe #Marichat #Adrinette #Adrienette #Love Square #mentioned Gabriel Agreste #Catfish

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cawolters · 4 years

Text

✷ Babes in the Well ✷ (Liar Alliance snippet)

Good day to you! It’s been a minute, but here I am with a little thing that I think you guys might think will be a neat read.

It’s a little snippet of a scene I wrote between charming young King Deria and my newly hatched/refined character, gloomy necromantic Hinrich.

(Hinrich is a Mask btw, a sort of ambassador to the Kings of the ten kingdoms in the empire.)

Where: Tall Castle at the beginning of book two

Who: Deria is talking

What: He’s wandering the Chalice Room, looking at paintings and thinking about magic when he’s interrupted by a gloomy apparition.

WC: 1800

Themes: Ghost magic, politcal intrigue, secret coup!!

Is it gay?

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Well. Yes, on multiple levels, but not explicit in this scene.

Unfortunately.

Plot needs pages too.

✴ BLUE FLAG ✴

What a delightful day it was indeed. The sunlight in the mountains cast its gentle overcast glare over the hills as afternoon clouds drifted slowly over the subtly rising and falling hills deep down, down, in the valley, below my childhood home, Tall Castle.

The patterns of shy light and then sporadic sharp beams, raying out of the heavens and touching a little cottage outside the village, was more enchanting than magic.

Or, I would have thought that before I had seen the gold coin eyes of the Blade by the Empress’ side. Ah, and then her flat pieces of dull ebony to contrast his. They had been standing so close and then she had laughed. I saw it, a flower blooming in the deep dark night.

Magic indeed.

I drifted away from the massive window and toward the far end of the grand chambers of the vacant Chalice Room . My father had called it the Chalice Room because of the grand ornamented stone goblets that ran along the walls on either side of a wide aisle, making an elongated space where politics could merge or divide in its rift.

It was here all the meets with the kingdoms were held. In the middle was the round stone table, large enough and fit for Kings and just a moment ago it had been stuffed with every inch of the continent. The Ten Kings, or, rather our four border kingdoms that could come to us within a week, had gathered here in the tallest of castles, but to what end?

I wondered.

My eyes followed the walls. Paintings, taller than two able men on top of each other’s shoulders, were hung between the lit oil-chalices. King after King draped in deep rich velvets, queens and offspring, squeezed into gilded frames. More often than not, there were more than seven people stacked together in dim rooms and posing.

As I walked, their lifelike eyes followed me. Even my own green gaze, almost hidden behind the black sorrow veil that honored my late father, seemed eager to stalk me through the fabric on my stroll. It would stay like that for five years, covered with black silk to grieve The Great Fifth King. The Wall To The North. Praise in his name.

My face twitched, entirely involuntary, and I quickened my pace for the next two paintings until I got where I had wanted to go.

I stopped at the end of the aisle and came closer to the portrait, larger still than the rest and looking almost empty as there were only three people in the dim light of a dark background.

Kōrudo, The Cold. The Emperor.

Ohtani, The Sun Smile.

His lovely tragic wife that looked like she had never smiled in a hundred years, and now she never would. And then, there, holding her mother’s hand; their little daughter.

Empress Shiroin. The Pure One.

I almost laughed out loud at the nickname.

I had seen this portrait many a time of course. I had admired that oddity of the first girl to be born in the imperial line for a thousand years, but now that I had seen her in person, had had her presence just a breath away from mine, I never imagined an artist to be so wrong about a face.

The portrait looked like her, the likeness was there, no doubt, but he had caught her wrong. The artist’s hand must have begged him to dot those two fictive pearls of oil-white in her black gaze, add that tint of pink life on her cheeks and erase some of that hatred that blazed out of her face like the cutting rays of sun in my valley.

She had only been five when the painting had come into creation, so small a human, but in truth not looking like a human at all. Despite the artist’s efforts.

“Have you fallen in love?”

The quiet voice behind me, slightly distorted into more whispery voices speaking simultaneously, sent my heart racing and made me whip my head over my shoulder.

When I immediately spotted the menacing cloaked figure of Hinrich, standing in the middle of the Chalice Room, appeared out of thin air, my stomach did a small flip as unease hit it.

His cloak moved as if under water, wavering around his ankles and framing his pale face irregularly. Hinrich’s mass was see-through. An undead ghost. The Mask of Kaiserhof.

I sighed dramatically in a smile, suppressing the urge to flee, and turned back to the painting. My eyes once more seeking Shiroin’s pits.

“Yes always, and with everyone. It’s not a sporadic occurrence it’s a chronic condition. You should adapt my philosophies, Hinrich, then perhaps you wouldn’t look like a wraith who wants to crawl down a well and haunt it.”

Though I had my back to him, I could sense the Mask had glided closer while I talked. His presence had changed the temperature of the room.

“My philosophies are my own, they don’t need outside pollution. And wells are only haunted by dead whore-babes. Not men. I fish for them when my work demands bones and rotting flesh.” He said, quietly, the wisp of a voice far away and carried to my castle with death magic.

By the Gods he was a creepy sort of errand boy. We had been dealing with each other since the Empress had first vanished and I had almost gotten used to it by now, his unsettling being and ghoul magic, but admittedly not totally.

“Gone to the Gods through a wet hole.” I joked lightly, “what an enchanting way to depart this world. Out the way we came in, and frequently visits, no?”

He wasn’t actually a ghost of course. I would not have had the stomach to engage if he had been dead.

When I turned, his mouth was sour, disgust crinkling one side of his straight nose sitting on his translucent face.

“If you’re talking about sticking your cock in somewhere, it better be the Empress.” The light in the room did not fall on him, and he cast no shadow.

“Now now, Hinrich, manners. I am still a King after all.”

“Not my King.” He was a statue, staring at me and pissing me right in the face without a flinch. Then he added:

“Did she comply to the marriage?”

I threw my head back in a loud laugh. The Chalice Room made it sound like a roar.

“Comply?! Good Sir, Have you met her?”

Hinrich’s expression told me that he hadn’t and that he had no interest of ever doing so. All he wanted was his master’s orders carried out. He was an unsettling figure, but a good lapdog, to the right lap.

“If you cannot deliver, we will recruit one of the others. Errin’s King is unwed too.”

“Are you threatening me with ‘The sickling from the swamps’? I have the wall, the army, the looks and I am what they call a ‘team player’. I’m a quality bargain.” I smiled wider and tilted my head, “Besides. If you just wanted an unwed King to lock down the Empress with a ring, or stick something still up her dress, why not use your own?”

I knew exactly why. I was dealing a friendly blow, aimed right up under Hinrich’s arm at the only spot I knew he was truly sore.

“Hm, why hasn’t Eckhart apparition joined us here at Tall Castle to seduce the Grand Empress?”

In a blink his ghost was nose to nose with me. Hinrich wasn’t actually dead. His young, able, body was alive and well in Kaiserhof, but his spirit, tainted and twisted as it were, was right here with me. And though he was not haunting me, the illusion of terror, in that moment, was rather convincing.

I gulped.

Hinrich could not touch me, I had tested that when I had thrown a book at him the first time he came to me, but he was freezing my blood.

“Never take my King’s name in your dirty mouth.” His warning was slow and hateful.

There was a long pause where I could only see his sunken in eyes and feel the ice.

I slowly wet my lips with the tip of my tongue. My bones were shaking.

“Are we about to share our first kiss?” I whispered.

Another pause slid by, in which Hinrich processed my third joke of the day. Then he drifted backwards. Not amused at all.

“Deria, the quick. You think you are so smart,” his gaze darkened “but you know nothing. Make her say yes. Force her to be your ring.” The word ‘ring’ was a quiet bark his mouth.

“Force her? And how would I do that. Let me tell you, she almost stabbed me twice already, I’m sure she’s eager to actually spear me through my throat the third time I give her an excuse.”

Heinrich didn’t hesitate.

“Use the war.”

My smile fell.

“… Retract my forces? Then the empire loses two thirds of the world army.”

The Mask didn’t blink and he didn’t answer.

“But… Then the war is not ours. The Elsalvians could win, we don’t know their numbers with utmost certainty. Hinrich, people would die -A lot of people, my people your people, everyone! And mine are the first to meet the doomsday fire on our doorstep.” I ran a hand through my curls. “It- it’s the thousand year war, by the Gods! I won’t risk all of humankind for a coup at puts me at the top. I am not starved for a power that comes at that price.”

“Do what you have to.”

“You’re not hearing me, I can’t agree-“ I started but Hinrich interrupted me.

“It’s a threat. The Grand Empress will have to take you as her ring, for the sake of the empire. She will fold. Use the war.” Hinrich drifted backwards, his cloak soaring and floating in water that wasn’t there.

“And if she says no? She’s not striking me as a humanitarian.” I bit. I was getting angry now.

“This will happen whether you want it to or not. You cannot stop it.” His strange hissing voice was fading, the winter cold was becoming more tolerable.

I gaped at him in disbelief before I found my reply.

“Maybe I can stop you. I could expose your little illegal spells to the worlds, the other kingdoms, and then you’d be burned before the rooster is crowing on the last day of this week.”

His face scrunched up as he snarled.

“Try, and you will know what true horror looks like.”

I opened my mouth but closed it again.

“That’s right. Do what you have to do. Or we will, King Deria.”

My name hung in the air for a moment and then the Mask was gone. Disappeared and dissolved like a drop of ink in the running river.

I stared at the spot Hinrich had just been. Contemplating how I was a mouse between two mountain lion. He had had a point. If I declined, they would stage their coup around me, shut me out and keep me in the dark while they worked their sorcery to manipulate the fate of the world.

My hands became fists of their own as I strode out of the Chalice Room.

“Fucking magic.”

-Ciao-

#writeblr #dark fantasy #wip #original writing #cawolters #riseoftheblooddawn #theliaralliance #ayearofauthor

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ladywindrunner · 4 years

Note

try + deathwing :')

try + (character) // accepting ::

D E A T H W I N G

He, who was the greatest of calamities, a triumph in destruction – found himself destroyed before his symphony of ruin was complete. Merciful oblivion took him in the throes of deserved agony, and that devastating torture that wracked his body finally ceased.

He’d been nothing but a plague of misery and ash, a pestilence of consuming fire and malevolence. In the quiet now, without distractions he could consider his failure properly. His memories, twisted as they were, played out before him and he saw how his pathetic servants had fallen short of their duties.

How entirely vexing, the short comings of others.

For a briefest flash, free of the intrusive thoughts that he’d been unable to fight off, he thought he may deserve this fate. To be nothing save a foul memory. He can almost recall who’d he been before, almost grasp the concept of honour, duty, and valour. All things once attributed to him at his grandest—

NO.

Neltharion was dead. Destroyed beyond recognition, not even a corpse remained for those to mourn the fool who thought himself guardian. Imbecilic idealist who’d believed mortals even worth consideration. He was the champion of a rotting tomb, a hollow memory with a crumbling memorial somewhere on that pathetic world.

If even that.

Good. Let the world forget the Earth Warder. Let those who cling to his memory and beliefs suffer. Their weakness should be punished!

Within this sacred abyss was Deathwing. Greatest of all the dragons, he who could not be conquered without those fools mucking about with precious time. His laugh rung out to the nothingness about his incorporeal form. He laughed at his latent victory.

Who were they now to stand on mighty kingdoms of righteousness? For they had sinned as he had. They played with machinations said to be forbidden. But they did so with the naivety of children. They clung to their delusions of morality. Perhaps they’d struck him down, but their actions had unleashed unknowable catastrophes.

Fate would see them punished for their crimes, yet they would not possess the serenity of oblivion. They would fight, tooth and claw, to cling to that pathetic rock of a world. Their wars would simply draw more chaos, peace would never last.

What he pitied, was he would not be there to watch their misery. The Old Gods, whispering horrible truths, played their hand too early. Their patience was endless but limited. They were festering paradoxes, and in the silence death brought, it was a relief now that Deathwing did not have to endure their plots.

Such simple schemes they were, too. To rule a world empty of resistance, to corrupt it and twist all those on it to the void.

He barked out a bellowing laugh, for here he could mock them. Their deaths, without he as their dark vanguard, would be swift and well deserved.

Old Gods indeed, free of their madness, he could see just how archaic their designs were. They wrought ruin for ruin’s sake.

But was that not the simplicity sicknesses incurred? A disease has no drive beyond mutation and death.

If Deathwing felt shame, it was only because he’d permitted them to warp his own desires. They offered him power eons ago, but who truly had worked to obtain it?

He had. He’d done the work; and suffered for it. He’d walked amongst the mortals and manipulated them, he’d tricked the other Aspects. What had the Old Gods done but offer empty promises from their long lost prisons? He’d wanted freedom from a burden thrust on him undeservedly so, and why? Because beings claiming to be his betters wanted to witness what would occur. They who could not even bother to care for their own world, gave the responsibility to dragons undoubtedly out of sheer convenience.

The abyss contained within it, no semblance of time. Here, he sensed there was no beginning nor ending. This was existence at its worst. To be something almost tangible, with thoughts and goals, but without a means to properly act. The predicament was inconvenient. Infuriating that this was the end the Old Gods had brought him.

Where are your whispers now, you filth. I so wish to witness your demise. I know of many who you thought to rule who planned to betray you. Let them taste victory, if there is any semblance of justice within the cosmos, you will be nothing but the fleeting terror in the dreams of infants!

Resentment was a fine companion. One worthy of his hatred.

“And my father is dead, because of the Old Gods.”

Wrathion.

His son, a runt hardly worth a thought. Deathwing’s contempt for him is only matched by his amusement. The purge of his flight had failed then, though it was a shame that it was one so wretchedly weak that survived. Was he to believe that it was Wrathion who lead the struggle against the Old Gods?

There is a flicker of pride for the boy, though it is fleeting. How grand would it be if it should be his son to strike down the disease? It would not be so difficult to imagine; the Old Gods were arrogant things. They thought themselves untouchable because they were as real as nightmares.

Fools, as maddening as their designs were, they were fragile.

Falsehoods. Fakes. Lies. Mirages of the worst sort, but illusions all the same.

Prove yourself useful, whelp. Deathwing rumbled, the void about him shaking in resonance. Even here, in this nothingness, he possessed power. Surely you tire of being such a disappointment.

The silence around him is deafening. He waits to see if oblivion bestows him with another glimmer. He knows many of his former masters have perished. He delights in it. Somehow, in this vast emptiness, his knowledge has expanded. This abyss is as much their fate as it was his. Only they, without the fear of mortals to sustain them, are withering. Their greed and lust to be worshipped and dreaded is their downfall.

He was not so simple, and that was the only gift Neltharion bestowed upon him. His existence before corruption promised that Deathwing would not be so easily vanquished. No, he was to suffer. As if somehow, being free of the crushing weight of Azeroth, and the madness it seeded was a punishment.

Oh, how he laughed.

I am destruction. What this oblivion seeks to do, is my very being. I am imprisoned here, but with it comes immortality.

His voice rings out to the emptiness, his new seat of power. There is a flicker of something forming. A wisp, a mote of existence within nothing. Shadow and flame, an ember of defiant, vicious truth.

“In N’Zoth’s name, his wings will darken the sky once more!”

His fury is immediate. A thunderous roar threatens to send the abyss fleeing in terror as it rings out. How dare anyone proclaim it would be some disease that would see Deathwing rise! The insolence! He seethes with loathing, and his being violently lashes out at the nothingness.

This was the first time oblivion felt as though it were a prison. He could not reach out and snuff out the proclamation. He could imagine the Old Gods laughing, mocking him even as they become grains of sand to be blown away by history.

His connection to this one is different. She is not his child, but the daughter of Onyxia. Yet her spirit burned truer than his son’s. She did not wish to be weak as the other dragons were. She valued power, control, and knew that to obtain such things one could not be so limited by ethics.

He fought against the ignorance this place wished to bestow upon him. He would have her name.

Nalice.

That inkling of flame grew larger as he stretched forth his mind and found the boundaries of oblivion.

It was vast, but not limitless.

Another lie of the gods. Old, new, and those who were timeless. The darkness that awaited the unworthy and wicked was not endless. It had walls, a floor, a ceiling.

Or… had he given it such things?

This was his domain after all.

That spark of smoke and flame descended into the floor.

Deathwing reached out for the worthier of the two descendants. He touched her mind, graced her with dreams of N’Zoth’s destruction. That infestation’s inevitable demise. He, the Destroyer, severed the old god’s hold on his granddaughter. She dreamt of Azeroth aflame, and the skies blackened by a thousand shadows.

The Black Dragonflight reborn.

You, child. He spoke to her, his words near beyond comprehension. He shook her sanity with his rampant might. May yet prove worthy of my gaze.

Oblivion caught fire, and the ground heaved.

The floor split open, a vast river of lava given light to an empty realm. Tectonic plates, suddenly thrust into existence, slammed into one another, forging ugly, jaded mountains. Lakes of tar seeped up from hairline cracks, and the abyss now reeked of sulfur and brimstone. Vents of noxious gas sprouted like wildflowers, spewing toxins into the air.

Hellish light illuminated the corpses of the old gods. Fire consumed them until they were nothing.

The tallest of mountains erupted. Plumes of ash and choking smoke exploded into the sky as debris rained down onto the valleys of lava. Magma roared outwards next, running down the cliffs in thick, murderous streams.

This realm is mine. His voice sees the new forged ground quake. Great crevices sundered open, and out from them crawled twisted elementals. Abyssal creatures of fire and earth.

Out rose a form from the belly of the volcano, a marvel of darkness. A draconic monster wrapped in smoke, lava running off seething scales and oblivion plate. He arose as a black dragon of oblivion, and he permitted his terrible power to breathe out of him. His wings smoldered and spat fire, magma leaked from his maw in a horrific fashion.

Deathwing, Lord of Oblivion, Emperor of the Abyss.

Fiery gaze turned upward as he coiled his form around the peak of the sundering mountain.

Pitiful mortals. He snarls, lips curling back as he peers up at that infinite dark. Watch as your world comes to an end.

An earthquake shakes the continent of Kalimdor. The lava fields of Sulfuron Spire churn. Temperatures rise as an early summer sweeps across the land.

And rallying call reaches the mind of those he deems worthy.

All will burn beneath the shadow of my wings.

#deathwing #neltharion #// with cameos of wrathion #// and windrunnerrs' nalice #// x.x hope dis is okiii #✯:: I trust you will not waste my time ( memes )#terraforged

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sapphires-and-gold-fics · 5 years

Text

Fictober Day 14: “I can’t come back.”

Fandom: Game of Thrones / ASOIAF / Indiana Jones

Characters: Jaime Lannister / Brienne of Tarth

Notes: Adapted from Raiders of the Lost Ark, some of that script used, but mostly not. Also Marion's bar in Raiders is literally the Raven Saloon so how could I not???

Additional Notes: No, really - I literally could not stop myself.

Read on AO3

xxxxxxxxxxx

A huge raven, inexplicably with three eyes, is mounted behind the bar on the usually lively Three-Eyed Raven Saloon in the middle of nowhere, north of the wall. Wildlings and men of the Night’s Watch huddle here nightly from the cold, mingling inside where outside those doors they would be mortal enemies - or at least, certainly not friendly on most days. Most of their differences were settled long ago.

Behind the bar is Brienne Tarth - thirty, straw-blonde hair, scarred, eyes blue enough to rival a mythical white walker, and tall - very tall. She’s no-nonsense at best, and a pain in the ass at worst, but the patrons appreciate her. The one time a wildling tried to bring up some beef with the Night’s Watch, she had physically removed all of those involved herself. She was built - she would joke, when she joked, that it was from being a barback for the original owners - the Starks, long gone - but really she had just been made that way. And physical exertion had kept it up.

Brienne had just finished kicking the last of the drunken wildlings out for the night when she noticed one last patron huddled over a tankard at the far end of the bar. Exasperated, she walked toward him with purpose. “Hey you, you deaf? It’s closing time - this ain’t the Long Night, get the--”

Jaime looked up from beneath the brim of his hat and smirked at her - gods, it was good to see her, and Brienne stopped short, shocked.

“Hello, Brienne.”

Then she hit him. Knocked him right off his stool. Just like he deserved. He sat up, his smile infinitely wider.

“Nice to see you, too.”

“Get out.” She wasn’t smiling.

Jaime held out his prosthetic hand in defense while using the other to boost himself from the ground.

“Take it easy, I’m looking for your boss.” He wasn’t. But he thought she’d be easier on him if Sansa was between them when he asked her for what he’d come for.

Brienne snorted. “Well, you’re a year too late. Sansa’s dead. Arya too”

Jaime was stunned. Six years ago he and Brienne had promised to help Catelyn Stark’s girls find their way back north. And then Catelyn had died and the situation had gotten dire in the city, so he’d sent Brienne to do it - to find them, swear her sword to them as it were. He thought she’d be safe. It was as much for their sake as for hers. He hadn’t parted with any of the Starks on the friendliest of terms, but this was distressing. He perched back on the righted stool and leaned heavily on the bar. “What happened?”

Brienne shook her head. “There was an uprising north of here. Something to do with their brothers. They never found them but… word is they’re dead. They didn’t come back.”

She turned back to the bar and popped the cap off of a cheap whisky bottle. She didn’t want to think about the Starks. She didn’t want to think about how Jaime had cursed her by sending her after them, and how they had in turn they’d dragged her up here to the north and then vanished.

“Why are you still here? Why not go back to Tarth, or at least somewhere that’s not… this?”

She shrugged, throwing back a second shot, “I can’t come back. There’s nothing for me. Besides, this? It grows on you.”

Jaime looks at her, shivering. Remembering how her skin would pink and freckle even more in the sun; now her freckles seemed to be in hiding, her skin pink from the cold. Always pink with her - one of the most feminine things about her. Under his gaze, she blushed, and Jaime ticked off in his mind a third shade.

“I’ll tell you something, Jaime. I hated you for sending me after them alone.” She swallowed hard. “And I hated leaving.” Momentarily she softens, but then the hard shell is back. “I always wished you'd show up some day. But why now?”

Jaime toyed with his sleeve before answering her. “I need Oathkeeper.”

Brienne’s eyes go icier than ever; the truth of his visit stung. She swung for his jaw again, but he caught her; his false hand wasn’t much of a defense, so she was able to slap him with the other. Her stomach churned at the idea of using his weakness - something he only had because of her - against him, but that’s exactly what he was doing now to her. “You asshole. You know what you did to me, to my life? This,” she gestured to the bar, to the raven, “is your fault. And now you’ve come to take back… no.”

Jaime swallows hard and releases her hand, which he hadn’t realized he was still gripping. “I never meant--”

“You sent me away --”

“You were very capable.”

“I was in...” She stops herself and takes a sip straight from the bottle.

“Brienne… maybe if we could work together…”

“Why start now? You didn’t care about working together then. You only cared about sending me on a fool’s errand.”

Jaime sighs. “I could pay you for it - for the sword.”

The ice in Brienne’s stare turns to flames, and she bites out her words, “I. don’t. Have. it.”

“You don’t -- well where is it?”

She shrugs. “Lost track of it. It was just an old sword.”

“Just an--” Jaime huffed out a sigh of exasperation. That sword was priceless. He’d given it to her because… well he’d never admitted it to himself but he’d given it to her because he was worried sick she wouldn’t be able to protect herself and the girls otherwise. He’d given it to her because a warrior needed a weapon. He’d given it to her because it was the thing he had most treasured in the world, apart from her. Sending her with it was like sending his heart with her. But clearly she hadn’t gotten the symbolism. Jaime’s shoulders deflate, defeated.

“Gods you look… what is that look? Desperate? Sad?”

Jaime smirks at her good-naturedly, despite his disappointment. “I can only say I’m sorry so many times. I’m truly glad to see you, Brienne. On my honor.”

Brienne snorted. “Your honor. Like before?”

That stung.

“You know why I did what I did.”

She had the grace to look ashamed now. “Yes, I know.” Then, “Come back tomorrow.”

“Why? You said the sword was lost.”

“I thought you said you were glad to see me.”

“I am.”

“Then come back tomorrow. Maybe I’ll have something for you.”

Jaime shook his head with a grin - so maybe she hadn’t lost it. But she was skittish and distrustful. He understood that. He understood her better than probably anyone. Better he come back for it. He nodded, getting up off the stool. “I trust you, Brienne. I always have.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Now where have I heard that before?” He sets his hat on his head and tips it to her, and turns to go.

“Jaime, wait.” Her voice is huskier and raw from the whisky, and Jaime felt it like an arrow to his groin. “C’mere.”

Jaime turned back to face her. “Bossy, aren’t you?” and started back toward her.

“You liked me bossy.” He reached the bar and leaned against it. “Kiss me, Jaime.”

Jaime looks into her eyes, bright blue pools he’d often wanted to drown in. He raises his knee onto the seat of the stool and pushes up so he’s kneeling, steadying himself with his good hand, his body leaning over the bar and up, to reach her. He kisses her gently, her lips firm and soft against his, but when he pulls away she looks as if he had ravished her - the splotchy blush spreading across her freckled skin - maybe a fourth shade. He wished he could untie that scarf at her neck and see it spread it further. But she leaned back and away from him. “Now get out.”

Jaime grinned. “Tomorrow, Brienne.” She just nodded. He climbed down, replaced his hat, and walked out.

Brienne stared after him, and then took another sip from the bottle. She loosened the bright blue scarf at her throat to reveal the fading pink of her blushes, and above that a gold chain with a bright red jewel hanging at the end of it.

On the other side of the wall, directly behind the raven, she keeps an ancient sword that she would often practice with, out of the sight of others. The grip was a little worn, and one of the jewels had fallen from the shoulder not long ago, and she’d hung it around her neck to remind her of him. The steel never seemed to dull. One hardly used swords these days, but Brienne was oft alone and felt safer knowing how to defend herself. After all, that was half the reason Jaime had sent her away with it - she knew that. And now he’d come to finally take it back.

She moved toward the fire in the corner, examining the glint of the light through the jewel, wiping an errant tear from her eyes. Then she removed the chain from her neck and went back to the kitchen where she wrapped it gingerly around the grip. She rarely took the thing off - only when cleaning so that it wouldn’t catch on the crates and snap off.

When she walked back into the bar, there were four strangers standing in the doorway. The tallest of them - about her height - approached her while the other three spread out across the bar. One of his men was almost as wide as he was tall, and bald; another had a crazed look in his eye and wore a pink and green paisley beneath his wool coat; the third was short with thick black hair, and his muffler barely concealed the fact that he was missing half of his nose.

“Good evening, mith.”

“The bar’s closed.”

“We are not thirthty.”

“What do you want?” Brienne thought quickly - there were plenty of bottles she could crack over their heads. Chairs if she needed to. And there was always the sword in the back room. Either way, they were between her and the door, so she could not run for Jaime.

“We want the thame thing your friend Mither Lannither wanted. Thurly he told you there would be other… intherethed partieth.”

Brienne shook her head, nothing the positions of two of the tall man’s companions, along the side walls.

“Ah, the man ith nefariouth. I hope for your thake he hath not yet acquired it.”

If she could only get to the back room she might be able to hold them off, or at least blockade herself until help could arrive.

“I don’t have it. But I know where it is.”

Vargo Hoat’s smile faded, and Brienne felt a chill run down her spine. She considered breaking for the door, but she decided to go a route that might get the men into a central location; she was strong but against four clearly strong men, she wouldn’t stand a chance unarmed. Better to have the bar between her and them. She gestured to the stools and poured the whiskey she’d been drinking into a line of shot glasses. “How about a drink?”

One of them lit up at the suggestion, but the lisping man gave him a look that said they would stick to business. Vargo shook his head.

Brienne went to Plan B. “Well then why don’t you come back tomorrow. I’ll be able to get it by then, and you and me and Mr. Lannister can have an auction.”

Vargo sneered and snapped his fingers.

Brienne had forgotten about the fourth man.

Her arms were pinned behind her back before she could flex a single muscle. The man shoved her into the bar and one of the others pulled her across it so that she was lying on her back, with her arms pinned down. She flattened her feet against the wood and attempted to buck them off, but Vargo was already holding her ankles, and he held her down firmly.

“An aucthion ith not pothible. Let uth thow you the kind of deal we’re uthed to making.”

He nodded at the man left not holding her, who opened his horrible mouth for the first time in Brienne’s sight, and she knew she had to fight harder. The man’s teeth had been filed to points, and as far as she could tell, he had no tongue. His doughy hands were on her shoulders and she thought she might pass out from his breath as his face got closer.

Suddenly there was a loud crack - the door had burst open and snapped at the hinges as it slammed against the wall, followed immediately by a shot. Biter went down as his companions turned toward the door. Brienne turned too, and the sight of Jaime’s silhouette in the doorway at that moment was almost enough for her to forgive him then and there.

Things moved very quickly then.

Vargo climbed off of the bar and ducked behind it, pushing Brienne over and onto the ground, landing on Biter’s back. She withdrew and crouched beneath the front of the bar as Jaime attempted to shoot at one of the other men. Bullets flew from both directions, but Jaime was able to dodge behind a table and out of harm’s way. Brienne knew that if she could get into the back room, get the sword, she could do some damage. But as it was, she was in the way. She quickly checked Biter’s person and found a blade tucked into his belt. She clutched it and crawled around the bar, as flat to the ground as she could, bullets flying over he heard.

She encountered the noseless man first, and jabbed the knife into his leg. He howled and jumped from the spot nearly taking Brienne and the knife with him. With that movement, he was caught in the crossfire, and he stumbled across the room, landing just in front of the fireplace with his last breath, his hand landing in the flames and smoldering.

His sleeve caught fire, and Brienne used the distraction to dive behind a table. The air was quickly thick with smoke, and she could hear shouting coming from behind the bar, but she could see neither Jaime nor her attackers. The fire began to roar and she saw flames licking at the furniture and the curtains, moving steadily toward the bar.

Another shot rang out, a cry from behind the bar, and suddenly a breeze passing her as one of the men ran for the door, leaving thick drops of blood behind him. She couldn’t tell which of them it had been, but with only one more left inside, she stood a better chance of reaching the back room before the whole place went up.

She heard Jaime scuffling on the floor nearby, and suddenly he was crouched next to her. “Brienne, we have to get out of here!”

“Not without the sword!”

“It’s here?”

She nodded and looked around the table carefully. But her head was too far cleared of the edge, and Jaime pulled her back just as another shot rang out, gripping her against his chest protectively, good arm crossing her chest, bad arm at her waist. “Forget it! I have to get you out of here!”

She shook loose from him, immediately wishing she hadn’t had to. “Cover me!” And she bolted for the kitchen door. A couple of shots rang out, but none of them near her. She dove inside and slammed the door shut behind her, pressing against it to keep the last man out, but she was not pursued.

She climbed up onto the counter and lifted the sword off of its hangings. Outside the door, she could hear the fire spreading getting louder. When she looked out the square window, she could barely make out Jaime and another man fighting. She wrapped the belt around her waist tight, placed the chain around her neck again, the jewel secure under her tunic, and threw on her heavy coat, checking the pockets to make sure that her essentials were still there. Then she reopened the door.

She saw the man land a punch on Jaime’s jaw, striking him down, taking a pair of stools down with him. When the attacker stood over him, she could see that it was the wild-eyed man. She must have made some sound for he spun to face her, eyes crazed. She knew the fire would reach the bar at any moment. She had no choice. She had to play her only card. In a flash, Oathkeeper was snapping through the air and through the man’s heart. Before his knees hit the ground, she had grabbed Jaime’s ankle and was pulling him out of the ruined bar.

She dragged him through the snow, rounding the corner of the square just as the fire reached the bottles in the bar, igniting them soundly. Jaime coughed and twisted away from her and yanking her to the ground. He sat up and ran his false hand over his hair, looking around for his hat which was nowhere to be seen. Then he realized he was still holding her sleeve, and released her. “You could have been killed.”

“Why did you come back?”

“I… Brienne…”

“You burned down my bar.”

“That’s… “ he looked up at her, her eyes were shining - she was upset but not that upset. They were sparkling. She could have been blushing a fifth shade under his stare but it was too dark to tell. He could only see her eyes, and the light of the fire glinting off of her hair. And something else - he reached up, his fingers brushing the hollow of her throat eliciting a familiar gasp as he looped the chain around his finger and slid the necklace loose. The jewel was shining, catching the moon and the firelight at once.

“Is this…?”

She nodded and pulled away, tugging the blade out from under where she had landed.

“You’re a marvel, you know that?”

She smirked and laid it across her palms between them.

“And now I’m also your goddamn partner.”

#braime #brienne x jaime #jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #indiana jones #indiana jones au #raiders of the lost ark #or raiders of the lost ARC when you think about it #and i do #ao3 #ao3 link #mine #braime au #adaptation #i can't stop myself #put me back together

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