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ducknotinarow · 9 months

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MM Raphael - All Symbol Headcanons please uwu

| Send me a symbol and I will write a headcanon about… For multimuse blogs, please specify! *disclaimer I aint a spoiler free blog I have stated before like with Helluva Boss, this is your warning now there are spoilers in this post.*

I love this little gremlin boy so much. look at his smile pure gremlin uwu from the full trailer we got I knew I would be satisfied with this take on Raph. I can be kind of picky but that's just cause Raph was a character I always loved. I do like that Raph's anger issue was his only character trait least not like all he is about but that they did focus on the fact Raph dose just kind of like to fight in general. I like that he is sort of aware of it though and seems to try and handle it but clearly doesn't know so he turns it towards his more violent tendencies. And dose seem to try and not take it out on people around him. He has anger in him and he's trying which is why I love that he seems to turn towards sports at the end of the movie cause its not often a part of Raphael shows often give much attention to that he loves sports too. I look forward to more from this franchise with my boy ;3; I really just like that you can see for all of the boy they know who they wanna be but havent quite learned who they are.

𝓕 : My muse’s handwriting. (Is it good, bad, difficult to decipher, do they prefer writing by hand or with the help of some form of machine, e.t.c.)

"I'm not the best with uh spellin, " One of the more stylized writing styles clearly. The boy haven't had proper education for years so I feel they learned a lot from what they saw and Raph liked the subway graffiti they would see when making their way back home and learned to make it his writing style. Raph tries to control his emotions carefully emphasis on tries here of course. Draws attention to himself as seen in a lot of fights he tends not to care much for the whole be stealthy thing when it comes to a fight. Even crowing to get said attention before jumping in. Raph has a more out going personality shown from his large lettering. The gaping in his writing shows Raph enjoys his freedom.

Tends to take being grounded from the surface not well at all and pitting the blame toward Leo. Being able to explore the surface is the only real freedom he had and he dose carry this thought into going to school. Of course the heavy pen pressure come from tension and anger he has. That he doesn't full know the best way to deal with yet. I think having Beep bop and Rock steady however will help a bit but having a friend who gets it will do him even more wonders since they are closer in age. Despite being outgoing the slant of his writing shows Raph is a bit reserved which we see when it comes to April he doesn't talk as much as the other do or did when around her compared to how he is around his brothers even around the other mutants he was a tad more reserved here and there. Or outside of fights. Im pretty positive they will likely be like Splinterson considering Splinter isn't Yoshi but I would be to surprised if they didn't find a way to make use of Hamato for this verse but i'm not changing my tag XD so still under Hamato even if he won't be using that name unless stated he will be Splinterson in MM.

✈ : My muse and traveling. (If they do it frequently and why, if they never left their home town, e.t.c.)

"Hmm I've been in the sewers, the subway, roof tops shipping yards-" Currently Raphael has only ever been around New York, they have gone to some pretty well know locations like Central Park or Madison Square garden, or stadiums but have yet to ever be out of New York. Of course, he likes the idea of maybe seeing more now that he's able to go to the surface. But hard to say if everyone is still willing to change their tune about Mutants. Even if they have been shown as Hero's this doesn't fully mean everyone and everywhere is ready to accept them or willing.

✿ : My muse and nature. (If they are an ‘outdoorsy type’, like the sound of bird’s singing, if they have never set foot in a forest, e.t.c.)

"Ehhh I dunno 'bout that. 'ike i'll go I guess if I gotta?"

Despite living in hiding this guy is a pretty much a city guy at heart he is so used to the loud sound of a buzzing and bustling city. But with his wild energy he might love going out to the woods.

☼ : My muse’s first memory. (Where it was, who was with them, how this memory makes them feel, e.t.c.)

"uh dunno I kind remember stuff as a kid like havin' nightmares and going to pops." I feel Raphael dose vaguely remember the one time Splinter took him and his brothers up to the surface.They seemed young but were able to start their training not long after. Raph sometimes had nightmares about the man that chased after them and would be the one to wake everyone else up and go to Splinter to sleep with. Dad is safe after all ;3;

☙ : My muse’s favourite food. (Bonus: A memory, be it good or bad, associated with said food.)

"Dose bulk up count as a food?"

Course it's pizza, but the bulk up in the crate during their shopping time was funny to me. Of course Raph always remembers the first time Splinter got his hands on a pizza for them. It was some of the first human food they ever tried and the most beautiful thing Raph has ever seen at that time in his life.

♬ : My muse and music. (What type of music they like listening to and in what context, what music they would never listen to, e.t.c.)

"Drake! he's the g.o.a.t!" Raphael likes Rap and R&B the most when it comes to music he dose enjoy Rock and heavy metal as well of course. But his favorite artis is Drake and if he could meet a celebrity he would want it to be Drake. he watched Degrassi solely because he found out Drake acted on that show. He might have a slight crush on the dude but he hasn't really figured that out himself. He also likes DJ Khaled, and Lil Wayne but course hes got his usual go to. He dose like a bit of pop as well here and there. He also will never admit it but some of the stuff Donnie listens to is kind of okay as he would phase it.

↺ : My muse and the past. (Do they live in the past and struggle to let go of past grievances, or move on more easily, is there anything in their past they want to forget, e.t.c.)

"Eh I sort of do maybe?"

Raphael in a way dose in that he's very aware of the situation he was once in, forever made to hide away from a word he just wants to be part of. Surrounded by the same four faces all his life. It sort of feeds into the little freedom he has and more he'll get. Raphael just wants to be able to meet more people experience things he never got to before all because he never really got to live before, not like how humans do at least. Going to school just being on the top of that list simply because it's such a normal mundane thing but something he thought he never have. That it never even occurred to him that humans themself sometimes aren't all given those same freedoms he thinks they are lucky to have.

☾ : My muse and sleep. (How much they sleep, how much they wish to sleep, if there is something that never fails to put them to sleep, e.t.c.)

"Eh not 'ike i got much a bed time? oh guess I do now?" Raph's used to staying up late seeing as it was the only time him and his brothers were able to out and about that Splinter could agree on with at least. So Raphael is far more used to being active at night over during the day going to take a lot is adjusting to the change least during the school week. Raphael likes to be up late still often going to bed late in night school night or not. Getting to sleep can be a bit of struggle so he tries to tire himself out in all the ways they tell you not to like aimlessly using the internet thinking he'll pass out. Sometimes he dose but ends up leaving his phone playing videos because of it. So it's always low on battery.

✧ : My muse and art. (If they have an artistic side or not and why, favourite artist if they have one, e.t.c.)

"I like the stuff I seen on the streets." I pick his writing style for a reason Raphs a fan of street art, he has watched humans in the cover of the night work on their own street art. Murals, tags and such that they come across the city always tends to catch his eye he thinks it looks cool. When he was learning to write he really wanted to sort of have a style like what he saw. Raph tends to doodle out his name and even brothers names with designs things he thinks fits each of them. Course later hell add another name with some hockey sticks and such. It's far more like graffiti he dose and sticker art. He came across some name tag stickers and will put his stuff on that to slap around the city when him and his brothers would run around for their errands in the past. Usually slapped on to the back of signs, street lights, even some bollards, or billboards. It's mostly either his name "raph" or styled stuff showing Sai.

❃ : My muse and social media. (If the muse is/would be on social media and why/why not, their general opinion on it, e.t.c.)

"Eh I sort use it?"

Raphael lurked in the past mostly making use of video platforms. He has a bad habit of falling asleep when watching tiktok and sending the videos to his brothers accounts. Once they get into school he will use twitter and snapchat, so to be in contact with some of the friends he's made. but he mostly sticks to texting apps like discord or whatsapp. Raphael just isn't much for social media but it was kind of the only way he could be part of the human world, so he did use it to just watch stuff. Mostly used it to watch dumb videos he found funny or keep track of news of stuff he was interested in. Like following Music Artis he likes.

✉ : My muse and others. (If they social and outgoing or more introverted, and why. If they prefer communicating with others face to face or in written form, e.t.c.).

"I finally got some human friends so 'hats cool." As I mentioned before Raphael is pretty out going in general, he's not shy or even close to being an intervert himself. But he can be a tad reserved as a person. When it came to meeting and being around April of course he doesn't shy away from talking and answering questions but he dose tend to hang back a tad. When they met superflys crew Raph sort of did the same once the idea of afight was dropped with this reveal. We do see him pretty ecstatic around Beep bop and Rocksteady however but he still seems the most comfortable around his brothers even when at the Dance he's a bit more playful with them. But we can see him being open around the kids hes befriending. He's a friendly person and likely willing to talk to anyone but it takes him a moment to warm up and be more okay with all his sides being shown.

Raph still wants very much to meet someone who just understands him in a way most don't. Raphael knows he has a lot of anger issue to work through and he tries to handle that best he can but it has made him pretty interested in things that come off more violent like things. Sport, horror movies, fighting in general. Raph isn't a bad person or even trying to be intimating well outside a fight of course, but his interest likely will sort of give him a rep in school as a tough kid, scary dog privilege basically. Look big and mean but when you know Raph? once again scary dog privilege hes loyal and pretty loving very outwardly at that.

Why meeting Casey is such a thing. Casey and Raph hold a bit of rivalry since Raph going into school he wants to just try out for every sport the school has to offer. Of course, this meant the hockey team as well. Raph liked the more contact sports like football over soccer so he tried for the team along with another kid. They were both good but the coah wasn't sure who to pick. Raph wasn't fully set on it but this stupid kid picking a fight with him made him a tad petty so they wound up getting into a fight. To which even after going home with a black eye he told Splinter in a very excited manner he had made a friend. Sure Raph has some like friends least kids he could get along with but I feel thats more outta of convince. Casey is the first person he kind of opens up around to with stuff he hasn't with his brothers even. That got long TDLR: Raph can be reversed and def has the aura of a scary dog like a pit bull so people can be a tad turned off from getting too close to him and his over ethuism for certain things. He got some humans hes friendly with who gotten past that but he can be a tad reserved deepening how comfortable he gets with someone else. And much like many dogs like Pits? Hes actually very friendly, and welcoming.

▶ : My muse and level of education. (If the muse has some form of education, what education they perhaps wish they had, e.t.c.).

"I only now going to school so?"

Anything Raph dose know was taught by splinter or something he abosrd growing up. I don't see him being the best student when it comes to school either. He dose great in subjects like Gym and even art a bit. (I like to think he'll take some art classes) but as for the rest? he'll have some struggles mostly Math and Science courses.

◐ : My muse and animals. (If they like animals and treat them well, do not care for them at all, e.t.c.).

" uh 'm a turtle?" I think Raph likes animals I feel i've said this with nearly all them so far? i really just think Raph is a cat person. But I feel MM also is pretty big on dogs as well. Which is why I keep saying hes got scary dog privilege haha. Dogs sort of match his energy but cats are nice and calming. I feel he treats them pretty nicely gently and with care knows ya gotta let an animal come to you sort. And when one dose? hes the happiest turtle in the world at that moment uwu

❒ : My muse and gifts. (If they are good/bad at finding gifts, good/bad at receiving gifts, good/bad at wrapping gifts, e.t.c.)

"ehh I try?"

I think Raph has found things for his brother like if he spots something they might like or related to it? he'll snag it when on their runs.

☘ : My muse’s relation with their family. (If they speak with each other and how much, if they are close or estranged, e.t.c.).

"I Love them I do jus'..ya know I wanna know others too? nothin' wrong with it?"

Raphael is very much a teen in that part of his life where he's trying to have his own life. Sometimes he can get carried away with it even no that it's something he can have, rather spending time with a friend over his brothers. It's nothing against them at all more him not quite learning that balance yet. But of course his brothers will always be his top priority when it comes down to it. His brothers mean a lot to him and they were his first friends as well. Nothing can ever get between him and them he will feel bad if any of them feel as if that is the case of course.

Raph very much tries to play cool around his brothers pretending he doesn't care but you can see how thats just an act. That he is playing to around his brothers. Sometimes he lets it slip like mentioning he would like to go to school never fully saying why though. Raph is very close to them all though openly joking around with them just being a full dork and getting up into to trouble like messing with Leo's sword and throwing ninja stars around. Despite him sometimes being annoyed with hoe Leo acts and can be you can also see how excited he gets when leo wants to join in on something for once. He gotta be close enough with leo to not be too upset hes playing with his sword. Even leo sort of joins in a bit when they are playing around on the roof. Raph seems to be able to get his brother into messing around.

Like Mikey dose when he tends to start most the jokes they get into even. Raph's clearly older brother side kicks in around them letting Mikey climb on top of him and such. And Raph being quick to jump in to try and help him and Donnie out when they need it that is. Doesn't baby either of them but is for sure there and ready to get in the mix of the danger.

With Donnie his twin uwu never letting this go when I can apply it. He dose pick on them a tad for being a weeb but it is outta of love, luckily anime is more main stream so I doubt Don will have to worry about being picked on for it but if he was? Raph would stand up for them in his own way "Hey he might be a a major dweed for likin' it and he is a major dweeb for likin' it but least he got better thing todo then pick on someone for it" type of sticking up.

He dose try and show some care into what his brothers like but it's cause he really just needs that himself in his life.

He loves Splinter and respects them he dosen't like be grounded but he'll stick to it and not break it even if he grumbles over it. Raph in part dose understand Splinter just looking out for him and his brothers. Sometimes that means he gets grounded or scolded but he dosen't always take it personally more that Splinter dosen't understand to which yeah some bits Splinter dosen't understand. But Raph still dosen't fault them to much for it. Hes still not ready to have a mom though and a tad grossed out on Splinters relationship but it makes him happy so? As for the rest of his family he is getting used to the suddenly abundance he has. He liked having more family around and is closest to Beepbop and Rocksteady, his sort like uncles he can be found with them the most when it comes to the extended part of his family. They sort of get the anger thing and often offer some advice when he's feeling just a tad ganged up on. I like to think they encourage him on his friendship with Casey since they are such an inseparable pair themselves.

#muse| hamato rapheal #madamkezzie #aflockoffeathers #[ you think first i hit first aflockoffeathers]#[ if you jump off a bridge its only cause i did first aflockoffeathers]#[our rivalry is no different than fire and rain forthehonorandtheglory]#muse headcanons #muse bio: hamato rapheal #meme anaswers #ic reply #stayed qeued #((like I know raph said it himself but I have a slight joke on why he drake its why i picked drake as a crush and why he watched a show the #were in and it is all related to you saying your mm casey lived in canada XD cause drakes form there and the show is a canadian show XD))

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pastxlscorp · 3 years

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Bully! Mitsuya Fanfic (pt.3)

Chapter III: Abidance

✿ Word Count: 3.2k

✿ Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x reader

✿ Topics covered: (Eventual) Enemies to lovers trope, Hakkai POV, Y/N POV, Mitsuya POV, tsundere-Mitsuya, bully! Mitsuya, fem. reader, minor manga spoilers, slight angst

Awakening from his slumber, he found that the woman was no longer taking up space in his bed. He heaved a sigh of relief, only to, unfortunately, see a message from an unknown number on his phone saying “Text me when you’re free ;)” Ignoring the text, he found he had a message from Hakkai and remembered that he had abandoned him to sleep with that damn woman. However, Hakkai didn’t confront him about it, but instead acted as if nothing happened.

🗨️ Hakkai: Is the party still on for today? (Sent 2:00am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: Yeah, sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t feeling my best, I should have let you know. (Sent 10:00am)

🗨️ Hakkai: No hard feelings. Ya feeling better now Taka-chan? (Sent 10:01am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: Not really, but it’ll pass. What’d you end up doing yesterday after I left? (Sent 10:02am)

Picking up on the subtle curiosity of Mitsuya’s text, it became clear to Hakkai that he did see him with you. As much as he admired Mitsuya, the anger building inside of him got the best of him. Therefore, in response, he chose a reply that he knew would get Mitsuya boiling.

🗨️ Hakkai: Caught Y/N outside of your class, had a wonderful lunch with her! She’s so nice, Taka-chan! Why are ya so mean to her? (Sent 10:04am)

Vigorous fingers typed in reply.

🗨️ Mitsuya: Why the fuck were you hanging around that slut? She’s just gonna try and get in your pants. What did she say to you? (Sent 10:04am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: Hakkai? Hello? (Sent 10:05am)

🗨️ Hakkai: Sorry Taka-chan, I’m back. She didn’t say nuthin bad, actually she was so sweet. She saw I was alone and we both had some tea together back at her place. Ended up sleeping over, I’m still here actually! (Sent 10:05am)

🗨️ Mitsuya: BACK AT HER PLACE? I told you, she’s just trying to get in your pants and you let her win! I can’t believe you let a whore like her win you over, Hakkai! Where the fuck is your brain? She probably was enjoying every minute of your sorry ass. (Sent 10:05am)

🗨️ Hakkai: Who said we slept together, Taka? (Sent 10:05am)

Silence enveloped the room.

🗨️ Mitsuya: Sorry… I just assumed that’s what you meant by sleeping over. (Sent 10:07am)

🗨️ Hakkai: Awh, it’s okie Taka, I know you were only looking out for me. (Sent 10:07am)

Absolutely, looking out for Hakkai. That’s what this was, that’s what he was doing. There couldn’t have been any other reason why he was so upset at the thought of you sleeping together. He was just being a good friend.

-----

┃ “Y/N!” the hoarse voice spoke to you, feeling the smooth cloth of his jacket pressed against your face as you bumped into him.

You looked up only to recognize Hakkai, kind thoughts flooding your mind, diminishing your anger stemming from your interaction with Mitsuya moments before. He grinned at you giddily, eyes relaxing any sort of tension left in your body. You slowly began to forget why you were mad and allowed yourself to indulge in his presence.

┃ “Good afternoon Hakkai! Waiting for Mitsuya?”

┃ “Mhm, you takin’ Designer 101 too, right?”

┃ “Yup! How come you aren’t taking it? You’re very fashionable, y’know?”

┃ “You’re too kind,” He giggled, his grin beginning to somehow grow wider on his cheeks as he raised his hand to pat your head.

┃ “I’m serious! Why don’t you join the class? It’s not too late, the second semester is about to start!” You eagerly pushed on, rejoicing in the positive energy he emitted.

┃ “ ‘m not really into making clothes, just showing them off...” He let out a hefty chuckle before getting cut off by you.

┃ “You don’t have to be good at making them! Some students choose to learn how to stylize different clothing and patterns, it’s all about the latest trends.”

┃ “Really?” He went silent for a few moments, smile morphing into a straight line as he contemplated your words carefully. Not to fret, as his smile quickly returned as he said: “Well then, might have to ask Taka-chan to help me sign up!”

You both shared a laugh and began to discuss the enrollment process in order for Hakkai to join the class-- if he were to drop another class, what class would he drop, or would he simply add it to his current schedule? While your conversation was nothing more than an innocent developing friendship, unbeknownst to you, Mitsuya had witnessed it all and declared it once more another betrayal. You were such a slut, flirting with anyone and everyone. Irrationality began to consume him-- instead of seeing your interaction with Hakkai for what it truly was, a genuine developing friendship, his brain refused to comprehend your behavior with other men. He never got to the level of comfortability you had with Takemichi, and he had lost the sense of ease you had with him to Hakkai and god, god did it piss him off. Unfortunately for that kohai, she was just another doll for him to play with just until he could get your attention again. Even a single drop of your attention, your attachment, it was enough to drive him for weeks just to be able to be near you again. Your kind words squeezing his heart tighter and tighter the more you spoke, your laughter ringing in his ears at a corny joke he told you during club meetings, it enveloped him into infatuation which later developed into a larger feeling. Such a large feeling over the progressing months that when he began bullying you, when your lack of presence and absences during meetings began to grow, an emptiness began to root in his heart, waiting for you to touch it once more and let it grow.

He could go on and on listing things about you-- the way he loved your sense of fashion, the way he loved your sense of humor, your compassion to helping others, your intellect that allowed you to read everyone like a book, everyone except him. Why couldn’t you see that he didn’t hate you? Oh, but that jealousy, the first time he’d admit that it was jealousy, it gripped him so tightly around his neck that it felt suffocating. Every shove, every clasp of your hand, your wrist, your chain, your chain, it made his heart shutter seeing that dead watery look in your eye, but your attention was like a drug that he just had to keep getting more of. It would never be enough to satisfy him, not until he could call you his and you would call him yours. He pitied using them, he really did, but he needed someone to satiate his needs. He was a womanizer, after all-- if one left he would just charm another into his bed. They all had high respect for Mitsuya, his intellect, his charm, his skill, and his kindness. Yet no matter how hard he tried, all those women, they were never you and they could never try and be you. He found that he no longer sought sex for his own pleasure anymore, but for your own, pretending so desperately that the one trembling out of pleasure beneath him was you. Imagining, no, fantasizing that he was making you happy and leaving you satisfied.

Upon seeing your interaction, he quickly left with his kohai for their own exchange, leaving Hakkai unfortunately confused as he waved you goodbye, patiently waiting for his friend to meet him. You were still on campus because you had taken additional extracurricular activities to build up your transcript to make up for your absences in Mitsuya’s Home-economics club. At first, you attempted to make it through the club meetings but he made every single one as unbearable as possible. The second semester, could it come any sooner? Hakkai, too focused on organizing his schedule with you previously, had failed to notice Mitsuya leaving with a woman. He waited, he waited, and he waited, coming to a good hour until he realized Mitsuya wouldn’t have left him waiting for this long without a heads up. He looked at his phone, expecting some sort of contact-- a phone call, a message, anything. All that awaited him was several unread messages from group chats and friends, none of them from Taka-chan. He sighed, placing his phone away just as he noticed your presence once more, planting a fake smile on his face to disguise his obvious disappointment. Unfortunately for him, his smile only instantly alerted you something was wrong.

┃ “Hakkai? Why are you still here, weren’t you supposed to be meeting Mitsuya?”

┃ His phony smile stood in place as tears began to fill his eyes. He croaked: “T-taka-chan left me. Do you think he’s mad at me for sumthin’, Y/N? I don’t ‘member doin’ anything.”

You instantly rushed over to comfort him, witnessing what appeared to be an intimidating giant become undone into a fragile teddy bear at the thought he had upset his best friend. Your disdain only kept growing for Mitsuya, first it was his lack of maturity during class, and now he had abandoned his best friend for whatever reason it was. Hakkai was a sweetheart, you couldn’t imagine what he may have done to upset someone. Therefore, you came to the conclusion Mitsuya had thrown a tantrum of sorts and took it out on him. It irked you, however, Mitsuya always remained respectful and loving to his best friend in addition to Yasuda-san, so you couldn’t help but raise your brow wondering what got him so upset for him to entirely ditch his friend. Pushing those thoughts aside, you placed all of your focus on bringing a smile back to Hakkai’s face, gently rubbing his back and placing your forehead against his temple as he crouched over in defeat. You desperately attempted to think of anything to cheer him up.

┃ “Ah, how about some tea?”

┃ “...Tea?”

┃ “Listen, I have absolutely no idea what you like and I want to calm you down so-”

┃ “Tea sounds good.” He said softly, a small smile returning to his face.

You escorted Hakkai comfortably back to your dorm, located on the east wing of the campus. Women and men could go to each other’s dorms, they just had gender-separated wings because it was just easier to contain the chaos if everyone was allowed to sleep with their girlfriend or boyfriend. The boys had their dormitory on the west side, thus you noticeably got some glances as you strolled with Hakkai. Mitsuya was always surrounded by Hakkai and Yasuda-san, so obviously most of your classmates were shocked to see you hanging out with his right-hand man. Were you both sleeping together? Ooh what a scandal (not). Although you didn’t mind the glanes too much, Hakkai on the other hand made sure to shoot down them all with a nasty side glare, quickly causing them to turn their cheek. It was a cute sight after all, seeing how you subconsciously had reached for his hand and began to rub gentle circles on it in order to ease him, which succeeded in doing so. Once you arrived at your dorm, you opened the door and gave him a show of jazz hands as you toured him around your dorm. Your dorm wasn’t the largest compared to his and Mitsuya’s dorm, which made him realize the privilege of not having a financially aided dorm. Your queen bed comfortably rested on the right side of the room, covered with a curtain and fairy lights on the wall behind it. Your desk was not too far away, maybe a good 15 feet across your bed, not too messy but not too neat. It was obvious you were working on something, as there were papers still out and scattered but the rest of the desk had the pens, pencils, and stapled papers sorted in a clean pile. Your pinboard was half-covered with your calendar, cluttered with small sticker reminders while the other half was your schedule, nicely decorated with washi tape sticking it to the board. Next to your bed was a wooden closet and you led him into the cramped kitchen that made him gasp, seeing how you make such a tight space so comfortable and presentable. You had a small glass coffee table in the middle, a small fridge cramped in the kitchen underneath a cupboard and next to a cabinet holding the sink on top. Next to that was a stove with a microwave on top, both color-coordinated black, contrasting the white of the room. You guided him over to the table and motioned for him to sit and he obediently did. Walking over to the countertop holding an old-school kettle, you used it to strain and brew the tea. Gleefully, you dropped a few ice cubes in his glass and carefully poured his tea and then your own, sitting across from him at the table. He took a sip of the tea you had placed in front of him, smiling not at the delightful taste but the awaiting face you had fixated, putting your hands under your chin waiting for a response.

┃ “This tea is delightful, thank you Y/N.” He said warmly and you basked in his praise.

┃ “Ah, sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the staring. I don’t… really get visitors. It’s nice to have someone over.” You replied, your face beginning to glow a light pink as your lips formed into a slight frown, embarrassed to admit how you had no friends.

┃ “Mm, I should be the one thankin’ you,” The softness in his voice made your crouched posture fix itself as you looked up to him. “You made me sum tea, opened me to your home, all ‘cuz I was sad and overthinkin’. You ain’t hafta do that, but you did anyway. I appreciate ya!” His iconic grin was now back where it belonged as his eyes glazed over you in pure adoration. You smiled in return, both returning to take a sip of your tea.

Hours passed and he was still at your house, you both gossiping and talking like old friends. You discussed your classmates, praising them and disapproving of the behavior of others. He began to confide in you about what he witnessed during his time as the second-division’s vice captain. You eagerly listened to him as he described to you his tales with his brother and his amazing sister Yuzuha, anything and everything was up for debate. At least, almost everything. Despite being the main reason he was so upset, you and Hakkai had not discussed Mitsuya’s treatment of you. He was mentioned in a few gang stories, but it seemed as if Hakkai was opting out of speaking about him out of respect for you. However, his head began to slump, implying he was tired. You grabbed your phone, which had been placed upside down on the coffee table, and looked at the time and saw it was well past midnight. You leaned over to rub Hakkai’s shoulder and you gasped when his head turned back upright, alert as if he just remembered something. Drunk on drowsiness, he began to speak:

┃ “Mmh, y’know Mitsuya used to talk about you a lot. Always went on about this pretty girl who was awfully sweet, really smart…” He trailed off, fighting off the sleep that clung desperately to his eyelids. “He never gave me a name but after club meetings when I woulds wait for him, he would tell me about his conversations. I always saw him looking at ya. What did ya do to make him so pissed off?” Although he had no malicious-intent in his questioning, it was enough to cause goosebumps all over your body.

┃ “I didn’t do anything, ‘kai. Really, nothing different happened that day. All of the sudden, the next day during his club he humiliated me in front of everyone and then made me stay after hours to yell at me even more.” You went silent for a moment, before your curiosity got the best of you and you questioned: “He used to talk about me? Are you sure?”

┃ Ignoring your question, he replied to your initial response. “You didn’t do anythin’ different at all that day?”

┃ You contemplated his question carefully, before realizing the one event that was an outlier to the rest. “I was waiting for my friend outside campus gates that day. He offered to wait with me but I insisted he didn’t, mainly because my friend had said Mitsuya wasn’t very fond of him so it was better if he didn’t see him.”

┃ “Who’s the friend?”

┃ “Hanagaki Takemichi.”

┃ The tired man in front of you took a full minute to process your sentence before bursting out and crying of laughter a few moments later. You looked at him, pure confusion coating your body as he continued to sob. Finally, after a few minutes, he wiped his eyes and sat back up, gleaming at you. “Well that’s your problem, Mitsuya fucking hates Takemichy. Probably spied on ya because he was worried, saw Takemichy, and boom-- he got jealous AHAHA!” He went back to crying of laughter, leaving you a few moments to yourself to process his words.

It was embarrassing to admit how Hakkai was half-asleep in front of you and somehow managed to put together your puzzle of confusion together months after said incident had happened, in under 20 minutes. However, you couldn’t find yourself disagreeing with his theory. Suddenly, Hakkai stopped laughing and looked up at you, all serious.

┃ “Now wait… that’s not funny! He’s been pushing ya around all the time just cuz he’s jealous of you being with other guys?! That’s fucked up! ‘M gonna beat his ass, Y/N! Just for you!”

You now began laughing, taking Hakkai’s hand in yours over the glass countertop and tapping it gently.

┃ “That won’t be necessary, ‘kai. How about we come up with a solution?”

┃ “My solution is beating his a-”

┃ “A non-physical solution.”

┃ He went silent for a few moments, looking away from you to the window to think. You could tell he thought of something when a smirk began to plaster itself on his face. “How about we test our theory?”

┃ “Elaborate.”

┃ “If that pain in my ass is done with whatever it is he’s doing, there was supposta be a party tomorrow. Not at our dorm, but our friend’s. You might have heard of him, Manjiro Sano?”

You responded with silence.

┃ “Mikey. The Invincible Mikey.”

┃ “Not ringing any bells.”

┃ “Brother of Emma Sano. Brother of Izana.”

┃ “Emma Sano is so nice!”

┃ “Captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang, Y/N.”

┃ “Oh.”

┃ “Point is, he’s having a party tomorrow. We could get some revenge, I bring you as my date~”

┃ “Won’t that make him angri-

┃ “That’s what revenge is.”

┃ “Why don’t I just talk with him?”

┃ “Has he tried talking to you?”

┃ “...no.”

┃ “I rest my case.”

Silence enveloped the room once more. It wasn’t an awkward silence, no, it was quite a comfortable silence actually as he patiently awaited your response and allowed you to process and think.

┃ “When is the party exactly?”

✿ tags: @haiq-trash @blackmysticalsimp @the2ndl @bren-heron @delicatejudgecopcowboy @skiwalkers

✿ a.n. // First of all, thank you so much for 102 followers <3 I appreciate the support being given to me! I would like to address one thing, however, please don't rush me to write! I've gotten very kind messages of support but others have been demanding more of me and it's important to remember that I have classes, chores, a social life, and many other things happening. I love writing but rushing me makes it unenjoyable and it won't be my best work. My goal for this ongoing fanfic is to post weekly. Just a little ted-talk there, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter though! I had such a fun time writing it :)

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oldfritz · 3 years

Note

I'm genuinely curious and don't want to start something! Just wanted to ask what you make of the 'Old Fritz might've been asexual' take, I don't know much about him and I feel you're one of the best people to ask esp since you lean towards 'he was probably queer in some way' too

Hey there! So, first off, don’t ever worry about me interpreting you asking me a question as starting something. As much as I love making dumb jokes about the guy, I love nothing more than doing this kind of stuff and defending or explaining my points. There’s two degrees I want to get over the next decade: first my JD and then my MA in Prussian history. I live for this stuff! Always have! Second off, I’m very sorry for not getting to this sooner. Things have been incredibly stressful for me for a variety of different reasons which have made answering your question, until now, rather difficult. Putting this under a cut because, holy shit, it got long!

My personal reasoning for why I think he’s bi (which, correct me if I’m wrong, I’m assuming is what you meant instead of ace and could be a different post entirely since some historians have tried to argue that) stems more to do with some of my lingering questions about the nature of his relationships with certain woman, rather than that of his relationships with men. To me and my modern, queer eye, Fritz’s relationships with men like Hans Hermann von Katte, Francisco Algarotti, Michael Gabriel Fredersdorf, and (much to my personal vexation) one Monsieur Voltaire are either outright homosexual/homoerotic in nature or very, very easily lend themselves to that interpretation rather than strictly romantic friendships (which Wikipedia does a fairly good overview of and, if you’re coming to me from AmRev perspective, uses Hamilton and Laurens’ relationship as a familiar example). While I’m avoiding those relationships in this ask, I’d be more than happy to elaborate upon one/all of them in a different one.

Before I go into the big pauses that Fritz’s relationships with Madame von Wreech and Countess Orzelska give me, I want to deny the use of Fritz’s wife as an example of Fritz’s attraction to woman. While this, admittedly, may sound odd, we have ample evidence of how turned off and repulsed Fritz found Elisabeth Christine. Before he had even met her, Fritz was complaining about how she was ‘not very pretty, speaks but little, and acts like a blockhead’ (Asprey, 87) and, later, admitted to Grumbkow his plan to ‘keep my word,...get married, but afterwards it will be a case of that is that, and goodbye, Madame, and fare thee well’ (Jones, 52). For Christ’s sake, the man pitied her knowing how his treatment would leave her as ‘one more unhappy princess in the world’! Which is little consolation when you remember he also referred to her with such romantic terms as ‘this unpleasant creature,’ ‘the abominable object of my desires,’ ‘the person,’ and claimed to have preferred to marry ‘the biggest whore in Berlin’ (Asprey, 87). And while we (fortunately? unfortunately?) know quite a bit about their sex life, Fritz largely regarded it as just another duty - to quote him, ‘I will only have the duty to fuck’ (Ibid, 87). And while Seckendorf heard - first, presumably from Count von der Schulenburg and, later on, Count Friedrich von Wartensleben, a close and intimate friend of the then-crown prince - that Fritz would ‘fuck and refuck’ Elisabeth Christine and that said act occurred in the afternoon, it still was out of a sense of obligation (Bely, 481-2). When reminded that if he wanted more money for frivolities, he’d need to produce an heir, Fritz bemoaned that he ‘cannot sleep with my wife out of desire, and when I do sleep with her, I do it out of duty rather than inclination’ (Clark, 50). All this in accumulation, as well as the myriad of other quotes and incidents I’ve left out, makes one wonder why his relationship with Elisabeth Christine is sometimes used by historians to prove any sort of heterosexual impulse in the man when she’s the woman with the weakest supports for that argument.

That being said, now we get to the women with a more muddled places in his romantic escapades, if you will. What exactly happened between Orzelska and Fritz during his trip with his father to Dresden in 1728? The main source for everything that occurred during this trip is Wilhelmina, who didn’t attend and without anything about this specific incident coming from Fritz or Friedrich Wilhelm I, make it rather hard to use as concrete, irrefutable proof. Now, if her recollections were contemporaneous - like coming from a diary or journal she kept at the time - that would be one thing. But it comes from her memoirs which, while a delightful read 10/10 recommend, are written decades after this trip took place and, memory being a finicky thing, can’t be taken to the bank. All those disclaimers, here’s the story as told by her:

‘One evening...,the King of Poland [note: Augustus II] insensibly led the King of Prussia to a very richly decorated room...The King of Prussia, delighted with what he saw, stopped to contemplate all its beauties, when [all of] a sudden a tapestry was rolled up, which procured him a very novel sight. It was a lovely female in a state of nudity [note: Countess Orzelska, the Polish king’s daughter], carelessly reclined on a couch. Her beauty excelled that of the finest pictures of Venus and the Graces; her body seemed of ivory, whiter than snow, and better shaped than that of the Venus de Medicis at Florence.

...Scarcely had the King cast his eyes on the fair one, than he turned about with indignation; and seeing my brother behind him, he rudely pushed him out of the room, and left it immediately after in a violent irritation against the trickery they had attempted to practice on him. ...In spite of the King’s vigilance, [Frederick] had had time to contemplate the Venus of the closet, who did not cause him so much horror as she had done to his father. (Wilhelmina’s Memoirs, vol. 1, 107-6)

Wilhelmina then goes on to claim Fritz had fallen ‘passionately in love’ with Orzelska and that the illness Fritz experienced upon returning home was simply being lovesick. Pinning the accuracy of this story is incredibly difficult because, again, we have only one source relayed decades after the fact and from two volumes of memoirs known to have inaccuracies. While I, personally, would love if he had had a tryst with Orzelska (who is such a badass in her own right and deserves more recognition than as a footnote in this guy’s story), there’s no one way to say with more than 30% confidence. I am inclined to believe something along these lines happened because if someone told me a story like this, lord knows I wouldn’t forget it for the rest of my life. And, with Wilhelmina being so close with her brother, it lends a bit more credence but as to the actual emotional or physical response Fritz had to it, well, without my time machine, I can’t and don’t want to say.

With Madame Eleonore-Louise von Wreech, things are a little more concrete. For starters, Fritz actually talked about her! In written correspondence that survived! We even have seven letters between the two of them that survived, which is a bigger win! As Blanning says, they’re ‘ardent but light in tone, ironic, almost flippant, and highly stylized’ (Blanning, 58). Their relationship was known to those close with Fritz at the time that Schulenberg felt compelled to visit and warn the crown prince against devoting himself to women because ‘the slight pleasures gained cause a million displeasures.’ Fritz’s response? To tell the poor guy that he may have ‘the gift of continence, but I assure you that I do not’ (Asprey, 83-4). Firtz even went so far as to send a letter to her mother, waxing poetic about Louise’s ‘beauty, her majestic air, her bearing, and her entire department.’ It’s worth noting that Louise eventually broke off the affair due to being bored by how he ‘loved [her] too much and often annoyed [her] with his clumsy love’ (Ibid, 84). Contemporaries, including Friedrich Wilhelm, believed Fritz had impregnated her with a daughter who her ‘cuckolded husband would refuse to recognize’ (Blanning, 58). Blanning is the only source I’ve seen dispute this due to this news coming from Seckendorf, who didn’t reveal how he came about this information; that Fritz and Madame von Wreech’s correspondence doesn’t indicate a physical relationship; and on the fact that she was not pregnant. I haven’t been able to find the birth dates or any sort of records for Louise’s two daughters to figure out where their conception could’ve been in the timeline and if it matches with the likely dates for the affair, but I also don’t have the resources Cambridge would afford Blanning. Either way, while the physical nature of the affair is in dispute, the emotional aspect certainly was there. Especially when taking into consideration the fact that she’s the woman Fritz was likely referring to in the 16 August 1737 letter to Voltaire where he claimed she had taught him how to love (and also inspired him to write poetry, which we shouldn’t be thankful for). Specifically, all these years later, he stated how ‘this little miracle of nature possessed every possible charm, together with good taste and delicacy. She sought to transfer these qualities to me. I succeeded well in love but poorly in poetry. Since that time I have very often been in love and have always been a poet’ (Fritz’s Oeuvres, vol. 21, 96).

All this to say, there’s a bit too much evidence of some degree of opposite-gender attraction in Fritz to completely write off the possibility that he could’ve been bisexual. While it’s undeniable he held a preference for men and that’s whose company he typically enjoyed, I still do find it interesting the two exceptions (one potential and the other with a fair degree of certainty) to this. And, while I would never want his attraction to men be minimized in favor of that to women, it still remains important to note to get the most comprehensive picture of the man.

#frederick the great #elisabeth christine #countess orzelska #madame von wreech #asks #anonymous

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secret-engima · 3 years

Note

This. Has been a perfectly terrible day. Can I beg you for a ficbit or a snippet from one of your works, like Team Gremlin or Noctscar or something ? I just - they’re beautiful, and I just really, really need something beautiful right now.

SURE. I don’t have much in the way of snippets, but lemme see what I can find. I might have to throw in something from BNHA cause that’s the fandom the muses are chewing on this exact second.

...

Team Gremlin:

It had been … a very bad few weeks for Qrow all told. And that was saying something. Everything had seemed fine one day, business as usual. Tai was back from his requisite number of missions to keep his license and teaching at Signal again —which he genuinely seemed to enjoy for some reason—, his nieces were as adorable as ever, and Summer was sometimes talking his ear off about maybe taking a teaching position somewhere herself after running a few missions to keep her own license active —she’d been busier lately with the girls than running around kicking butt, but it wasn’t like Qrow blamed her for that—.

Then Leo was found dead in his office. Knifed in the neck, one round discharged from his weapon in the direction of the guest couch, blood pooling all over the chair and low table where the investigators said he’d been dragged from and laid on the floor in some kind of pose. No one unusual had been seen going in or out, there had been nothing on the office cameras —covered by a Semblance of some kind, it was decided, because of the fading, glass-like Aura shards on the floor—. The only warning had been the sound of Leo’s single shot before he died. Qrow had arrived as soon as he could to help investigate, since the primary suspect would … not be one the police even knew to look for. He had helped Dyna —poor woman had been wire tense with rage rather than her usual calm self, and it was no wonder—, search for clues the police would miss, then searched the secret tunnels for good measure.

They had found a Grimm inside one of the deeper antechambers, far too deep to have gotten there by accident, a strange, jellyfish like beast that had been surprisingly hard to kill for something that small. They’d never seen it’s like before, and the thought of it being under the school, where kids were, where Oz and his inner circle were supposed to hold sway-. He’d never seen the otter Faunus more furious as they stood amid the fading Dark dust, her lips twisted, brow wrinkled in a way that had made the black line and red dots of her old bandit tattoos look more pronounced.

They’d found no other signs that Salem knew how to get into the school tunnels, but they rechecked them all and trapped several of the ones leading outward as temporary security measures. With Dyna in place as the new —temporary on paper but soon to be permanent— Headmaster, Qrow had gathered up what evidence they could pry loose from their police contacts and gone back to Oz so they could try to sort this out.

Of course, Qrow’s first impulse was to blame Salem, but Oz had listened to the report of a jellyfish Grimm under the school and his expression had folded into something pained. Knowing. He must have known what kind of Grimm it was, but hadn’t elaborated yet, just told Dyna to investigate all of Leo’s documents, Scroll calls, and communications over the past year, and insisted he would not explain until there was either evidence or not for his theory, for fear of making them biased.

So, with Salem seemingly not the automatic culprit, they had started hunting for info. Summer had offered to come back and help, but Oz had told her to stay on her chosen mission instead.

The pen had been an unexpected complication.

...

Always I Dreamed verse

Summer ducked past her into the shower as Raven left it, pausing to stare at Raven’s tattoos for only a moment before chirping a quiet good morning and asking if she was okay after yesterday. Raven just grunted, because she was combat functional and frankly that was all that mattered. She had already pulled on her clothes from yesterday —all their possessions were in her inventory and she didn’t want questions on where it came from, she’d have to stuff it all in a duffel bag and hide it in the den to explain that away later— by the time Taiyang got up and Raven remembered the uniforms. Raven nudged open the bag while Qrow ducked out of their den and peered over her shoulder, “Everybody has to wear that stuff?” Qrow sneered as Raven pulled out the first button down shirt, “Hardly looks sturdy.”

“It’s just for the school grounds I think, we have our combat gear for training missions and stuff anyway.” Taiyang said as he pulled out a shirt of his own from a different bag. Raven took a moment to glance at his bare torso. He slept in pants but not a shirt apparently, which was stupid, but better than being entirely naked at night. He had a decent build, which she knew from watching him fight yesterday, and a truly appalling lack of scars. Her life had been saved by somebody who had probably never had a truly decent fight in his life before that day. Wonderful.

He also had tattoos, and Raven squinted at them for a moment because despite the differing size and placement, they all looked very much like the ones Raven and Qrow had gotten during a rare moment of total drunkenness at fifteen. He was missing the large asian dragon outline that wound up Raven’s own torso, but he had the blue crow perched as if about to take flight that Raven had, the running blue wolf who’s lower half dissolved into petals, and she thought she glimpsed a blue clockwork rabbit under his right arm. When he turned around briefly to put his back to them, she saw that most of his back had been taken up with the stylized outline of a raven in flight.

She shook her head and looked away. Whatever. Summer possessed a tattoo on her arm similar to the asian dragon winding up Qrow’s arm from elbow to shoulder. Some tattoos were just popular, and blue ink was easier to come by for fill-in tattoos than the black used for outlines.

Qrow must have remembered Taiyang’s words last night about Raven’s uniform being at the top, because he was already rooting down to the outfit right beneath hers —there was more fabric in the bag than that, but Raven wasn’t going to worry about why just yet—. He yanked out a shirt and jacket that looked his size, then blinked when something short and plaid tumbled out with it. Snatching it up, he unfolded it and made a face, “Is this a skirt? With my uniform?”

Summer poked her head out of the bathroom, a wash of steam following her —oh right, hot water showers were a thing, darn— while Taiyang looked from Qrow to the skirt and back. Qrow was busy staring at the skirt, so he missed the expression of pure glee that flickered over the other teen’s face before he casually said, “What, that? It’s a kilt, man. Old Vale tradition.” Raven blinked very slowly, because that was a surprisingly good lie even though she knew it was nonsense —her memory on early canon was fuzzy, but she would have remembered the male characters running around in skirts—. She debated calling him on it for a moment, but she was from outside the kingdoms like Qrow, so technically she had no way to know that Taiyang was lying.

Besides, if Taiyang wanted to poke the bear that was her brother’s temper, better he do it now and get it over with than later when they were training.

Qrow was still making annoyed noises under his breath as he examined the “kilt”, and a glance at Summer slipping out of the shower in a towel showed she was fighting down laughter. Silver eyes met Raven’s with hopeful amusement and Raven looked away. She was still angry that the Story had forced itself into place in her life. With a shake of her head, Raven finished yanking out her uniform —one of? There was so much fabric in there, did the school really waste money making multiple outfits for each student?— and started pulling off her old clothes to put it on. Taiyang made a noise like someone had knifed him just as she dropped her shirt to the floor and she looked up in alarm. Taiyang had whipped around to put his back to her, and she could see the flush of color crawling up his neck and the backs of his ears. He didn’t look hurt or anything, but when Summer wandered in and dropped her towel onto her bed to put on her uniform —huh, she had the same tattoos as Raven, Qrow, and Taiyang, just with the perched crow as a large outline that went down to her mid back and a large blue raven in flight over her abdomen that looked like the smaller one on Qrow’s back—, Taiyang made the dying noise again, snatched up his bag of clothes, and rushed for the bathroom.

Raven had the feeling she should understand what that was about, but she didn’t get it, and when she risked a glance at Summer, the other girl actually looked just as baffled. So maybe it wasn’t some social thing she’d forgotten. Maybe it was just a thing with him specifically.

...

Feather-Light and Fire-Bright verse (BNHA)

Which was why, the next time she spotted a little red feather slinking over to place a trio of shiny buttons on the park bench she liked best, she hastily caught it with one hand. It was very soft, wiggling slightly in her grip, twitching and fluttering almost like a frightened living thing, so much so she shushed it gently on instinct, “It’s okay, I won’t damage you.” Taking out the note she’d spent days agonizing over, she skewered it to the quill of the feather, “I need you to take a message to whoever controls you.” She let it go and the feather wiggled erratically in the air, like a cat trying to wiggle free of an unfamiliar collar before flitting away. Fuyumi resisted the urge to chase it and see where it led. She’d sent her note, now she would wait for a reaction.

She absently took the three coat buttons and put them in her pocket before going home. It would be stupid to leave them as litter in the park, but it also felt like a bad idea to throw them away and possibly anger whoever was watching her. Besides, she had a collection going now, she almost had enough matching buttons to make a full set for a long coat.

A week went by with no sign of her shadow before she finally spotted a red feather again. It lurked on the edges of the park, flitting out into view as she walked by before slipping off in the direction of a more sequestered part of the park. Fuyumi hesitated, saw the feather come back and swirl around her a few times like an excited puppy before rushing off again and decided she was either about to meet someone shy or about to be kidnapped and potentially murdered. Slipping her hand into her handbag to grip the small pro-grade taser inside just in case, Fuyumi followed the feather into the copse of trees that shielded that part of the park from the street and the rest of the grassy area.

The feather slipped away to rejoin … a lot of other feathers, and Fuyumi paused on the edges of the little forested nook to get a good look at her mysterious shadow for the first time. Golden eyes, piercing and almost predatory in intensity, flitted up to meet her gaze as he stood up. He was about her age she would guess, maybe a year older, so lean that if she hadn’t been able to see the muscles of his bare arms she would have called him scrawny. He was wearing a sleeveless hoodie that looked like it had lost a few too many rounds with a washing machine, clean but all faded and stretched and worn looking. His hair was all tousled and pale gold, and the red feathers were clustered on his back in huge wings that looked like they belonged on someone about twice his size and weight. He smiled a little, a practiced thing that was too nervous to be real, but if Fuyumi hadn’t lived her entire life around Pro Heroes and the children of other such elites, she would never had known.

He held up her note between too fingers, not commenting on the wary distance still between them nor making any moves to close it, “Um, I’m not a stalker, just wanna get that out of the way. Sorry if I … came off that way? I’m, uh, not good at introducing myself and I didn’t … really know what else to do.”

#SE asks #hamelin-born asks #snippets #snippet #Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #Team Gremlin verse #Always I Dreamed verse #Feather Light and Ember Bright verse

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shadowtsukiyo · 4 years

Text

Perspective

I was so happy to be able to participate in @mlsecretsanta this year! Merry Christmas @swampwaterdog, I hope you enjoy this! Special thanks to @dreamingmermaidpotato for being my Beta!

“Kagami Tsurugi. I have chosen you for the Fox Miraculous. I need someone I can trust by my side and on my team, permanently. Do you accept this responsibility?”

Kagami looked down at the Miraculous, the necklace in the box had shifted once in her hands, no longer a simple chain, but a braided cord, a kumihimo. The foxtail shrunk in size, looking like a simple stylized charm bracelet.

Her mind kept drifting to the day that Ladybug came to her to give her the fox charm. She’d honestly been terrified when the red-clad heroine had dropped onto her balcony that chilly evening, and looking back at it now she didn’t know how she’d kept a straight face. Ladybug and her mother had been the only people able to make her feel intimidated, it was something that made her easily respect Ladybug.

She’d accepted, of course, she would accept. She loved being a hero, having a purpose. She was known as Inari, named after the mythical fox god of the harvest back in Japan. She wanted a purpose beyond fencing.

Her legs carefully swung, stepping carefully, one foot in front of the other as her new tail was lifted slightly, helping her keep her balance. Her hakama swinging in the Parisian breeze. The fabric rippled and shifted, the traditional baggy attire hadn’t hindered Kagami too much when she began her time as Inari, but it took a bit of reminding to get used to it. She hadn’t worn anything like this since her competition in Japan. Though she could deal without the colors, the white to orange to black gradient hadn’t been her first choice, but she supposed it was fitting for a fox.

They weren’t in a rush tonight and Ladybug seemed out of it, it worried her.

Kagami, as Inari, felt like she was doing her culture proud by going by the name of the fox god. Her Miraculous offset at her hip, attached by the braided cord, was a reminder to herself of the Fox god.

Chat Noir and Ladybug had been tense with one another recently. Their dynamic had been off. She didn’t know why, and she knew it was none of her business, but the days she was out on Patrol with Ladybug, she’d catch the way the brightness in her eyes would dull, the way her lips fell into a frown, and when she tried to smile, nothing reached her eyes.

“Alright. That’s it.” Kagami was fed up, the twin fox ears perked on her head lowered with her rising ire. “What is going on with you and Chat Noir?” Her arms crossed over her chest, annoyance on her face, the white and orange mask not hiding the way golden eyes narrowed--another costume shift that made it a bit easier to hide her identity.

Ladybug looked tired, she was ready to protest but just sighed. “He’s angry I am assigning permanent heroes like you.” Chat didn’t like being kept out of the loop, but she was exhausted and she was tired of Fu’s rules… now that the Master was gone and she was the new guardian, she needed to change things up. “He and I can’t keep doing this on our own. And I do not have the time during some attacks to grab a box, find a person, and have them hold them temporarily.”

“He’s upset he no longer has you to himself?” Kagami tested, “Or because you are the one making decisions?”

“Both probably. It's always been just us, even when we had temporary heroes we still had to mainly focus on one another… I hate to use you as an example like this, but when you went off on your own plan despite me having one for you.”

Kagami remembered that day, she’d regretted it afterward, she felt as if she dishonored Ladybug. “I - I was surprised you trusted me so much to allow me to become a permanent hero.” Her voice was light.

“You earned it, Inari. You understood your mistakes and you bettered yourself both as a hero and as a person. I believe in second chances so long as you’re willing to learn from your mistakes and from others.”

“I assume that Rena was…?” Her voice trailed off.

“On top of what happened with Queen Bee… Chloé, Rena had been proving herself unreliable. She’s been posting things on her blog about people, incidents about me that never happened. I will always feel bad, allowing this to happen, but Rena had been my first choice.” Ladybug moved to walk a bit, causing Kagami to follow. “She stopped doing her job as a reporter, and I had to wonder if she was going to stop doing her passion the way she’d demanded it to be done months prior. What would happen if she started doing the same with being a hero?”

The first thing Kagami thought of was Lila. The girl was a worm in Alya’s ear, telling her false stories, ones the journalist was too excited to question. The LadyBlog in recent times had become nothing more than a gossip tabloid.

“How badly is this reflecting on you as a hero?”

A shy smile, one that seemed so familiar, “It's not...not yet, but it will - the same way it did when I told Paris I was not in love with Chat Noir. The same way he still thinks I am joking or playing hard to get about it.”

Ladybug sighed, "I'm not angry at him. I don't think he's intentionally doing this. I just think that he's… what's the phrase…" her wrist rolled in a circular motion, making a 'go on' gesture. "Transference. He's using me as a substitute for something in his life, and rather than focusing on it he's pushing that energy into being Chat and focusing on me."

Inari was quietly watching as Ladybug sat back, it was one of their patrol days; Ladybug and Chat Noir alternated between taking her out. It was during these patrols that she got a feel for both Chat Noir and Ladybug as people, not just as heroes. Her thoughts were understandable.

Chat Noir was a frightened and lonely boy under all his false suave and jokes, but he was also a bit of a spoiled person that didn’t understand the word no. It told her that he likely came from a wealthy family, where money and things had been given rather than love and affection. It explained why he clung to Ladybug so much - he craved the attention, the validation she gave him, to the point he wasn’t willing to share her and her attention. It reminded her of Adrien, once she got him out of his shell a bit.

Ladybug, she was hard to peg down at first, but that had been her own idolization of the heroine. Kagami had to take a step back and realize that she needed to look at Ladybug as a person and not as a hero before she continued. Once she did that, she was able to see the kind of person Ladybug was - A generous soul that may act confident, but wavered about her inner self. She was kind, likely grew up well-loved and appreciated by friends and family. However, Kagami noticed the lingering sadness that was plaguing the young woman. Her smiles which used to be full-faced didn’t seem to reach her eyes anymore.

Ladybug had too much on her shoulders. People expected Ladybug to fix their problems, to run a team, to protect all of Paris while they went along casually. She realized, even she herself, hadn’t taken the idea of Akumas seriously until she became a hero, and even then, she still brushed it aside sometimes. For nearly a year, Ladybug had to not only drop everything at a moment’s notice to transform and save Paris, but she looked like she was roughly her age, fourteen, maybe fifteen, meaning she had her own life problems.

Ladybug was… very much like Marinette. That was the feeling she got the more one-on-one time she spent with her. A beautiful soul, while everything around her slowly weighed her down, crushing her soul slowly but surely.

She needed a team, she needed to share the burden. Chat might be her partner and her friend, but he laid on the stress in his own way, though he did support her as a teammate.

Inari was twirling her flute in her hand, her eyes taking in Ladybug, “You’re deciding on another hero?” She asked lightly, tilting her head as she took in the firm set of her jaw. Something she noticed when Ladybug became resolute.

“Yes. I have decided on who, just not which.” Her eyes shut in thought before she hummed to herself.

“Ladybug.” Inari sighed as she moved to sit next to her, her fingers moving to gently settle over her hand. The touch was soft, affectionate. “Any decision you make, I will believe in and support.” Her fingers gently squeezed at Ladybug’s hand. “I do not know who you are picking, or why you doubt yourself but - issues in the past, Chat, everything, we will all work on in time. I will remain by your side as your teammate and as your friend.”

The smile that graced Ladybug’s face made her cheeks flood with warmth. How in the world did she end up befriending the two cutest girls in Paris? Marinette and Ladybug.

“I’ll give it to him next week.” There was pride in her voice, the confidence flooding Ladybug once again. The smile she’d given Inari was still there on her face.

It was the brightest smile she’d ever seen…

“Marinette.” Kagami’s lips curved upward into a smile as she saw Marinette coming towards her, smile as bright as the sun.

“Kagami!” Marinette didn’t hesitate in wrapping her arms around Kagami, hugging her close once Kagami gave her a small nod of approval.

Kagami was not typically one to enjoy being touched, but Marinette always waited for some sign of approval. Marinette respected her boundaries, and it touched her heart that Marinette went the extra mile to make her comfortable.

“Ready to go?”

Kagami nodded. They were going to have a small shopping trip. Kagami had commissioned her for evening attire during a ceremony for her mother.

Usually, the two of them tried to meet up once a week, whether in person or on a video call, something to spend time together. It had become a routine of sorts to help them both de-stress and focus on things outside of their busy lives.

“Marinette,” Kagami spoke, her voice almost shy as she glanced towards the smaller girl. “Would...you…”

She was nervous, no matter how much she felt she’d grown, this was a big thing to her. Her wonderful friends, Marinette, Ladybug, Adrien, Chat Noir, Luka, and various other people in her life helped her grow as a person.

Marinette looked at her, patient and offering her an encouraging smile. Kagami had to pause, that look was so familiar for some reason… She also noticed how tired Marinette was and it caused her courage to waver.

“You can ask me anything, Kagami.” Gently, carefully, Marinette entered the bubble that was Kagami’s personal space, taking her hands in a gentle grasp.

“I wanted to know if you’d… join me for the ceremony… that I commissioned you for.”

“As a friend?” Marinette asked, her tone deflating. Kagami knew she’d gotten over her crush on Adrien a long time ago, those words, however, seemed to still haunt Marinette when someone showed interest.

Kagami swore that familiarity was going to drive her insane just as the way Marinette had jumped to a platonic request when it was everything but that.

“As my date.” Her voice was short, simple.

Kagami’s request was answered with a bright smile, “Yes!” Her happiness and bright smile caused Kagami's heart to pound in her chest and warmth rise on her cheeks.

Kagami’s brows furrowed for a second.

Oh.

It was all she needed, all the familiarity soon slid into place, puzzle pieces finding their match, and the image was suddenly clear at the beautiful smile Marinette gave her. The same smile Ladybug had given her.

She thought it would surprise her more, but wordlessly, her fingers slowly slid into Marinette’s grasp, lacing their fingers together.

“I think I saw a shop around here… they looked like a fabric or craft shop.” Kagami’s voice came out soft, relaxing as she got used to the warmth that was sinking into her hand.

Marinette was very fitting for Ladybug, so it wasn’t that surprising. A beautiful kind-hearted girl being the beautiful and kind-hearted hero? It made sense.

At least it wasn’t Adrien turning out to be Chat Noir.

Kagami couldn’t help but let her mind focus on the two blond boys now that she thought about it. The dorky hero and the lonely boy whom she had gotten to know better during her time in Paris. Things were steadily falling together in her mind. The neglected boy with nerdy hobbies that dreamed of freedom, how had she missed it? Of course, he was Chat Noir.

“...” Kagami said no words, just took a long, deep breath to keep from getting too frustrated. It suddenly made sense as to why Chat Noir clung to Ladybug as much as he did, and why Adrien was obsessed with Ladybug.

She and Adrien will have a conversation and work on that at a later date. He wasn't a bad person, just neglected and needed people to help look after him and see him for who he was - an anime-loving dork who liked bad puns.

Her eyes glanced down to the braided cord around her wrist, the hand gripping Marinette’s hand. She’d eventually tell Marinette that she knew. But not yet, she wanted to let this blossom, to grow with Marinette… and hopefully, Marinette would tell her once she was ready.

Until then, Inari would support Ladybug, and Kagami would love and support Marinette through all the trials that life put them both through.

“Hey, Marinette?” Kagami’s voice was soft, earning a hummed reply from her “I’m glad you wanted to be my friend during the scavenger hunt.” If not for that day, she didn’t know if they would have ever gotten here.

When Marinette turned towards her, Kagami leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was chaste and sweet, to the point much like Kagami, but it said everything it needed to.

You’re important to me. I like you. I’m comfortable with you.

#mlsecretsanta #kagami tsurugi #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug #Marigami #kagamiette

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nachohypno · 4 years

Text

Nate and Dave Ch. 11

It’s been a while.

…Not a very long while, though. It was just a week ago or so when I lost my virginity to a werewolf. Who just happens to be my soulmate. And thus, has to obey everything I say.

Neat.

Getting up from my bed was always a hard task for me. And that sounded way sadder than I intended. Point is, school starts in like half an hour and I’m still not even up. I was, of course, doing this on purpose.

I’m not that eager to go to school, but it’s my responsibility and I respect that. I was just having a little experiment though.

The sound of an indistinguishable car parking in front of my house, some heavy footsteps later, a knock on my door. I had opened my window, so I could hear everything that went down as he opened the front door and ran up the stairs.

A few moments later, Dave the jock entered my room and closed the door behind him. “Why ya still in bed?”

Everything fell into place. “Bed gravity is killing me right now, barely want to move” I excused myself, but I did wonder if Dave knew that I was waiting for him to notice I didn’t answer his daily [Mornin, my love<3], and feigned being late to school to make him come over.

I mean, I didn’t intend on making him come over, I just wanted to see how he would react to it. Dave was usually pretty pending on what I’m doing, and wants to take part to make sure we spend lots of time together.

It’s cute and scary at the same time, things that happen when a werewolf just so happens to see you as their soulmate.

“Ditchin’ school? Is it just me or you suddenly become way more attractive?” He dropped his bag on the floor and pushed me against the wall to make room for himself, then climbed on the bed and lied down beside me.

“Wait, we’re not ditching school. I mean, it does sound good, but we still have to—” He interrupted me. Dave liked to do this when I’m about to bring something up that will probably ruin the moment, it was a good life-saver. He invaded my mouth with his tongue, while trying to remain as gentle as always.

I could tell that wasn’t an easy task for him, but he tried his best and it really showed.

Sadly, I had to pull him off. “Wait, we gotta head to class, I don’t want to be late and you’re doing great progress lately.”

“Huh, y’think so?” Dave mumbled, trying to get closer again but I gently pushed him back. I was tempted to just stay in bed and cuddle with him all morning, but if I wanted to help him become a better guy at the end, I should give the example too.

“I legit think Ms. Porter will cry with joy if you actually finish that book for her essay.” I replied, kissing his cheek before passing over him and leaving the bed.

I think I helped him a lot at school, not only with his shitty behavior but also with his studies. Dave wanted to be a good guy for me, because I didn’t trust him before with all his shitty hot-headed attitude.

…He still had it. But he tried to be nicer.

“Hmm… I’m up for it, that bitch’s made my last year a nightmare. Tryna make me do extra essays n’ stuff” I would let that slide, because everyone hated Ms. Porter. She did give everyone a lot of essays. I’m okay with it, I enjoy reading, but even those books aren’t that interesting.

Dave got up from my bed, and passed a hand over his hair. I noticed it was a bit brighter than usual. It wasn’t combed, but he seemed to have it stylized with gel to be a bit spikier, in contrast to his usually short, wavy and parted to the left style.

“Well… I didn’t even shower yet but—”

But the werewolf was already determined. “No shit, bro. We’re not going late, that’s what ya just said. C’mon, looking great already, as always” Dave grabbed my bag near my desk, placed it on my back before grabbing his own bag and my hand, pulling me out of my room.

“Hey, I can’t go to school in pajamas- Oh you know what, never mind, I’ve done this before.” I quickly changed my answer mid-speech. I sighed, ‘I’m supposed to be the one in control here and I’m being dragged out of my house. Let’s change that back’ I told myself.

“Dave, I order you to stop,” I said firmly, as we reached the living room. The jock obeyed without hesitation, freezing in place. I couldn’t see his face right now, but I assumed his eyes were a bit zoned out, like they always get when I order him something. “And let go of my hand, if you may.” He obeyed that too, his arms falling to his sides as the werewolf waited for more orders.

Alright, let’s see.

I grabbed a yoghurt cereal bar from the fridge, that would make a good breakfast. I used my reflection at the microwave’s glass door to fix my hair as best as I could, before I decided to walk upstairs and finish the deal brushing my teeth and washing my face.

I checked my clock, we still had quite some time. At least 17 minutes until the first class *actually* started.

I changed my tee into something less pajama-y and my pants for some jeans. Now I was looking appropriate for school, the last thing I needed was being sent to the counselor’s office for having a sudden “Lazy day”.

Believe me, it happened before and it could happen again.

Walking back downstairs while biting a big chunk of the cereal bar, Dave was still frozen in place. I could take a good look at him now, and I liked the view.

The big football player had, as I expected, zoned out eyes and a bit of a dumb smile. He wasn’t wearing the bowser collar I got him, which made sense because we were about to enter school.

A lumberjack buttoned shirt that seemed to cling pretty well to his muscular body, a tank top underneath, and some black joggers. I took a moment to unbutton the top button of his shirt, so his pecs would be a bit more visible. It gave him a cuter look, while also being like “Yo, I’m really muscled”. I chuckled at the little impersonation I just imagined.

“So, uh… you can wake up, I think?” I was still a bit unsure of how this all ‘I control your mind and body’ thing worked, but I was getting the hang of it pretty well!

The zoned out jock blinked a few times before starting to move again. “Oh, hey bro. When did you change clothes? You look stunning as always, huh.” He mumbled, before leaning in to give me a kiss and walking out of the house with a big smile.

He really didn’t care if I controlled him or anything, he would just roll with it. I was sure he actually enjoyed it, he always looks excited when I suggest he do something. Ordering him to do something may just trigger his puppy boy side to make sure I’m happy, maybe? It’s just a theory without any fundamentals.

It’s not like there’s a book about werewolves anyway. Not that I know of, I guess.

Beep! Beeeeeeep!

Dave was now using the car’s horn to make me hurry. I grabbed my bag again and walked out, joining him at his car and receiving yet another amazing kiss.

“I’m sorta sad when we have different classes,” He started, as he drove away from my house and towards the school. He was trying to hurry, but while maintaining the basic driving security measures. Guess the big guy wants to be a responsible driver, huh. “That means less time admiring your handsome face, my love”.

“Aaaand, more time to focus on your studies. You know that I get really proud when you study like a good puppy boy, don’t you?” I was about to caress the back of his ear, but that would have been dangerous. He shouldn’t zone out while driving.

“Yessuh, I’m a good puppy boy!” He beamed up, but remained focus on the road. A few minutes later, we were arriving at the almost-empty parking lot. Dave pulled over and turned off the engine, before pulling me in for one last kiss. This one was particularly longer than the former ones, I loved it.

“A lil’ present, don’t know how I’m gonna survive these shitty classes without you…” He leaned in towards my shoulder, laying on it. I did what I intended to before and caressed his good spot behind his ear. The big guy started panting, tongue lolling out.

“C’mon,” I said, checking my phone with my free hand and stopping the sweet moment. “We’ve got a few minutes left. Gotta go in, puppy boy.” His eyes seemed sad, but he nodded.

Dave grabbed his bag and left the car, and I followed suit.

We hurried to the main building, and I noticed that Dave seemed hesitant about something. His hand was almost touching mine as we walked, but he made sure it was several centimeters apart so nobody would suspect anything.

I always wondered if it was hard for him to keep himself apart from me. I definitely didn’t mind, but we still had things to work out if we wanted this to really end up well.

…Dave hates when I imply that we’re two guys in a relationship, when he’s the one that brought it up and asked me to be his boyfriend. He’s still pretty homophobic, yeah, but he works around it pretty well.

Still considering himself straight isn’t bad, I guess. I’m more worried about the other targets he used to torment. While he’s not a bully anymore, he also wouldn’t lift a finger to stop something from happening right in front of him, except if I’m the one in danger.

It’s not like I want him to be a superhero, and I do find his ‘mean jock’ attitude kind of attractive, (When it doesn’t terrify me, of course.)

“Just before we enter, let me remind ya that you’re the best guy in the universe, my soulmate…” He wanted to lean in for a kiss, but quickly got back on my feet and blushed.

“Good luck today, big guy” I tiptoed and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Love you too, by the way.”

Before he could react though and pull me in for a make out session at the school’s gates, I entered the building and headed to my locker. The disappointed but infatuated jock followed behind me, and went to his own locker.

Everyone seemed to be already going to their classes, so I guess I was still safe.

My first class was advanced math, and while it wasn’t that difficult, it wasn’t ideal either.

All the seats were taken already, except the one next to one of my two best friends. Sadly, Dick wasn’t in this class, and Sam didn’t seem happy to see me.

“Coming late to school? That’s a new thing.” He greeted me, as I sat down and took my stuff out of the bag.

“I like to think that I’m not late if the professor hasn’t arrived yet” Speaking of which, I noticed the guy was actually arriving late today. It was like 10 minutes past the class’ start. “Uh… did I miss a text or something? This one’s never late, huh.”

“No no, don’t summon him just yet. We can fast-forward to a later meeting so we can all go home earlier. That sounds good, yeah” Poor guy, he’s speaking with himself now.

Sam had been elected last year as our council’s president, with a lot of effort and dealing with each of the “cliques” around school.

...And it seemed to be worse than he planned it out to be. You see, one of his promises to get the jocks’ votes was to increase the budget for the sports teams, which included the cheerleaders in the bandwagon.

That sounds cool, but in reality they already had more than enough budget dedicated to them, so we had to start raising funds for future events, or the sports team would eat it all.

Parents with their “bring and sell food for the school” events helped quite a lot, I’ve never been happier to see a random mother bring a plate full of nachos and hot dogs to sell at school.

“So, I’m supposed to ask the whole council about this, but I’d like to lay out my options first…” Sam took The Mighty Notebook from his bag and placed it on the middle of the table, pushing my things aside. ‘How rude!’ I thought, but didn’t give it too much importance.

“A sexy car wash is-” “Out of the question” I interrupted him “This isn’t a teen tv show. We can’t sexualize our football players.”

“Well, you can, you just don’t want to. Anyway… Cake sale?” My friend took a pen and crossed out the ‘sexy car wash’ option.

“People’ll get tired of it if we keep doing those. Parents already sell food at sports games and they’re not exactly rare to see, we have one almost every two weeks.” I hated being the party pooper, but if it helped him pick the right choices… “It can be done, but we can rehash that idea too many times. That’s what I mean.”

“Oooookay” He didn’t cross that one out, but instead added a big “(?)” next to it. “Last one I thought about, for now, was a winter’s ball kind of thing. Selling tickets for prom is apparently a great way to raise funds, but I’m not waiting until the end of the school year for that.”

“We’d need the principal’s permission for that but… you should discuss that one with the cheerleaders, they’ll love the idea. The more ‘prom nights’ there are, the merrier for them, huh?” This time, he made a tick next to the option, like it was validated for the meeting later.

“I wish we could do something like the drama club and just put up a lame production and sell overpriced tickets… Parents would pay anything to see their sons, right?”

“Uh, I guess so. They would probably be pretty mad if we fucked up the show, so let’s leave that one out.” Sam seemed a bit tired. I could maybe ask Dave for a little help with this whole thing, he would know what to do.

Hmm… or maybe, Dave’s ex-girlfriend?

“You should talk with Leslie.” I gave Sam a little tap on the shoulder and pointed at the girl a few rows at the back. She hadn’t noticed us, but she was really nice and tried her best to get to know me. We even sat together, like once! “Pretty sure she’d have some cool ideas that don’t sound taken from a bad movie.”

“You think so?” He took a moment to breath, relaxing on his chair. I honestly wanted to help, but I’ve never wanted to be his secretary because I’m not good with coming up with this kind of stuff. Pretty sure anybody could do a better job than me in that area. “I’ll try to catch her in the corridor. Just… don’t stare and be cool, right? I don’t wanna come off as a perv, geez. We also have this party tonight, so could I maybe approach her there? I dunno...”

The professor made his way in, with an angry look on his face. We straightened on our seats to avoid getting his attention, I don’t want to be called out by some asshole in a mood. To finish with our council chatter, I whispered to Sam a “I’m sure you’ll do fine, she’s not the devil, right?”

He chuckled a bit before answering “Don’t let Dick hear you, I kinda think he has a crush on one of those chicks.” I rolled my eyes, such a cheap gossip.

-------

If I told you that nothing else interesting happened during the day, I wouldn’t be lying.

I barely got to see Dave, just had lunch with him at the yard’s lunch tables before being separated again. He ditched football practice, and I did the same with today’s council reunion because I had a headache.

I got into an argument with a professor, too. The first class in the day, but it wasn’t anything worth looking into. He thought he was right, and he was too mad to check he wasn’t right at all. Almost got sent to the principal’s office, but I dropped the subject just in time.

I did share a classroom with Dave for the second class but… we got separated by Sam’s need to plan out his next meeting. You see why I ditched the reunion today? I wanted to rest!

Lucky me, my savior was just a few tables away, and knew exactly what I needed.

He waited for me to put my stuff back at my locker after our last class ended, and took me to his car.

I first thought he was just driving me to my house, since we didn’t speak about him staying at all, but there were no questions asked apparently. The big guy decided to give me a good time, as he pulled over in front of my house, walked around the car and lifted me on his arms.

I felt like a little brat, but it also felt amazing. Having someone who cares about you on such a deep level, like Dave does… I love it. I love him. And he loves me.

The jock opened the door with one of his hands, kicked it shut and took me to my room.

There, he softly left me on my bed before putting a strip show in front of me. Or I wasn’t really sure what that was. He just threw his shirt and jeans over to my desk chair and started searching through his school bag.

The silence was a bit boring, but I felt like talking was unnecessary right now. I just wanted to know what he was planning for the evening. He pulled out the bowser collar, huh.

“Never leave the house without it, bruh” Dave said. “What’ya waiting for? Get on your underwear, we’re doing some great cuddling t’night!”

“Uh, okay. I like where this is going...” I mumbled, before starting my own strip show. Sadly, Dave barely paid attention to me, he was trying to put on the collar by himself, but he was having some trouble.

Before dropping my pants, I walked over to him and clasped the buckle for him, tightening it enough so it wouldn’t fall off but also trying to make it comfortable for him to wear. “Hmm… Perfect, my love…” He whispered in a sexy voice, before planting a warm kiss on my lips.

I thought we were starting already, but the big guy started to run towards my bed and lied down with his arms reaching out for me. “C’mooooon, can’t wait for youuuuuu!”

I rolled my eyes and dropped my pants. Still in my underwear, just like the werewolf jock, I walked over to my bed and got grabbed by my boyfriend there.

Laying down on bed as Dave pulled me closer to his warm, almost-smooth body.

The bowser dog collar around his neck wasn’t sharp enough to hurt me, so I didn’t worry about that and just let myself be grabbed by this hunk of a jock.

“Enjoyed your day, my love?” He asked, looking at me with adoring eyes. It wasn’t creepy, I liked it. He barely acts like this at school, so his change of ‘big meanie alpha bro’ to ‘lovesick puppy boy’ was amazing to see.

“Ugh… I almost fell asleep at Mr. Cal’s class. So glad it’s Friday again…” I mumbled my answer. I tried to avoid mentioning the argument with my professor, but I’m pretty sure my class mentioned it already. Dave was pretty straightforward though, so he would probably mention it if he wanted to.

I know that I could easily not be tired if I would go to bed earlier at night, but those monsters are not going to hunt themselves in Monster Hunter, right?

“Wouldn’t mind spending all weekend just hugging you here…” Dave whispered, before placing a gentle kiss on my head. His hand was moving towards my private area, but I wasn’t going to stop him. I liked how it felt. “Just taking care of my lovely soulmate…” Another kiss, this time moving closer to my mouth.

When it comes to sexy stuff… I suck. Like, not in the literal hot way, I’m lame at it. I don’t like bottoming much, because I’m a bit of a wimp and I’m afraid of being hurt, but having Dave as a top is such a wonderful thing (After you go past that little pain at the beginning, the rest of the thing goes in like nothing) probably because he focuses too much on me having the most pleasure out of it.

So, I usually let Dave take control of the situation and just guide me wherever he wants to go. It’s not like we fuck every day though; I’ve only had my first time like a week ago. My werewolf jock would be up for it if I ordered him to, not going to lie.

But like, if we did that, it would kind of lose the magic of the moment? Like, I know Dave loves sex but even if it feels good the two times we’ve done it so far, it’s not like it’s a game-changer or anything.

So… cuddling and foreplay was the best thing ever!

“That’s sweet but don’t you have a party tonight? Sam has been talking all week about a—” I got silenced, the kiss was now happening at my mouth, cool. That’s what I get for trying to ruin such a good moment, I’m glad Dave stopped me.

His hand slipped in my underwear as he took hold of my cock and slowly stroked it. Meanwhile, we made out without a care in the world.

My breath got heavier. I felt so good at the moment, and Dave seemed to want me to stay like that for a good while. He would slow down the pace of his strokes or pick it up at just the right times.

…I had an idea.

I passed my hand through his hair as we broke the kiss, and he just looked at me in bliss. “Who’s a good puppy boy? You are, don’t you?” I whispered the question, to get him in his puppy mood.

It worked like a charm. Dave’s strokes slowed down a bit, as he started caressing himself with my hand, like a dog would do. “Yeah, bruh… Imma good puppy boy”

I ruffled his hair a bit more. “And every good puppy boy needs a good owner to take care of them, right?”

Okay, it may seem like I’m trying to do something weird or kinky here, but I actually wanted to try and make him a bit less… self-centered? I already had full control of him, due to our soulmate bond, but maybe if he saw me as a superior… He wouldn’t be so careless about others? Like he’s not at the top of the pyramid anymore?

But it didn’t work as intended, or at least not as I expected. Dave shook his head, without losing his chilled and happy expression. “Good puppy boys take care of their owners, bruh. Wanna protect and serve mine to make ‘im happy.”

It definitely wasn’t what I wanted to say, but it worked pretty well. “Who’s the owner though, puppy boy?”

“Really need me to say it?” The werewolf jock seemed a bit embarrassed to give his answer, as his cheeks turned red and he stared at me very intently. I nodded, of course. I came this far already, what I’m going to say? ‘Oh, no, I was just messing with you hahahaha well good night!’ “You’re my owner, bruh. Didn’t ya know that already? I love doing as you say…”

He leaned in for a good kiss. “…And I love you, my lovely soulmate.” He finished. Now I was the one who blushed. After that, the jock lied down beside me and pulled me to cuddle together. “Now come here, I need to make my owner feel good”

It did feel good to hear that I’m his owner. Oh geez, do I have a domination kink? Uh… I think that kind of explains why I love seeing him wearing that bowser collar, beside that it makes fun of the fact that he’s a werewolf.

He’s my good puppy boy, after all. “So, how are you going to make your owner feel good, puppy boy?” I roamed his big chest with my hands as I waited for an answer. I don’t feel like I say this enough, but I’m lucky to have this guy as my soulmate.

Dave raised an eyebrow, and spoke with a confident tone, but still curious. “What does my owner want me to do? This puppy boy will take care of it, whatever it is, huhuh”

Ooookay, if my cock was hard before, then it was aching right now with how horny I was. “Truth is, been a while since we’ve had some… action?” Oh god, I felt so dumb saying something like that. I think Dave would have laughed at me, but he actually seemed turned on by what I was implying.

“Fuck, been wanting to hear you say those words in like a week.” He kneeled on top of the bed, after pulling his underwear off. His cock was hard, as usual. I wonder if he jerks off at his house or if he’s just eager like a big horny werewolf. Speaking of his cock, Dave placed himself in such a way that his cock would be right in front of me. “C’mon bruh, show me how those lips work-”

“I was actually expecting you to suck mine off… Never did this before” If I felt dumb before, imagine how I was now. Dave seemed to try and find a solution, though.

“So, uh… never 69’d before?” I shook my head, and he let out a little sigh, but never stopped smiling. He was just a soft marshmallow when we were alone, I liked that about him. “Let me show ya”

I remained lying down, as Dave did all the work. He crawled over to my cock, got on top of my body and moved until his cock was on my face and mine was near his. The jock licked the top, giving me a little jolt of pleasure, like a little preview of what was about to come.

“Just… relax, and open wide. Not everyone can take my snake during their first time, heh” It made me wonder how many times he did this before. Or how many times did he had sex before.

I leaned forward and smelled his dong. It wasn’t bad, so I proceeded to take the piece of meat in my mouth. It didn’t taste bad at all, it was actually pleasant. I wiggled my tongue around the tip, and I could hear the big guy starting to pant already before he dove in for my cock.

‘Hell yeaaaaah’ I thought, before focusing on my own part of the job. It was a bit hard to do due to the position, but it was doable, at least. I wasn’t able to deep throat (Not that I’ve ever done that before, saw it in porn and uh… it would be nice to try out?) due to the position, too.

“You’re doing great, my love…” Dave pulled off for a second to say, before going back to the action. I felt compelled to order him something, just like the first time he gave me a blowjob. It was always so hot, looking at him doing as I said…

“Uh… hey Dave, could you take it all in and work around that?” I ordered him, way calmer than this morning. It still seemed to work, because he took my whole shaft in one go and I could feel the motion of his mouth going up and down, taking it all every time. It felt really good, but I had to return the favor.

I tried to pick up my pace too, to make him feel as good as I was. I know that I can’t possibly compete with a werewolf under the soulmate bond, he would definitely… uhhh. “I’m coming!” I warned him, but he didn’t move an inch.

The big guy took my whole load, and licked the rest of my shaft with his tongue to avoid letting a drop of my cum go to waste.

And now, it was my turn…

Dave had this order still on him. “You will cum only after I cum.” Not saying that he’s precocious but… he does seem to cum right after I’ve been pleased. Maybe he finds that hot already?

My train of thoughts was derailed by the sudden explosion of cum in my mouth. It activated my gag reflex, so I pulled off and just swallowed the one that was already in my mouth. Part of my mind found it hot, while the other found it a bit gross.

Dave was still at 69 position. I looked over at his face and he seemed to be back in obedient puppy mode. Tongue lolling out, and eyes glazed over. It was a hot sight.

“C’mon big guy, did a great job down there. Let’s just cuddle for a while, alright?” I told him, wanting to cover myself so badly. I felt a bit naked without a sheet over myself. Luckily, none of our loads fell in my bed, or I would have to change the sheets.

“Yeah, bruh…” He mumbled, before doing as I told him. He repositioned himself next to me, and lied down. His muscled body was an amazing sight, and I pulled him in for a hug.

“Who’s a good puppy boy?” I whispered, loving the feel of his warm skin against mine.

“I am, bruh. I’m a good puppy boy for my owner… huhuh…” A dopey smile appeared on his face, and I proceeded to plant a kiss on him. I wanted to write down today’s progressions or something, I still had that ‘study Dave’s behavior’ on my mind. But it seemed kind of clouded now that I was focused on taking a little break with him beside me.

It was always good to spend a good time with my lovely werewolf jock.

--------

Chapter 12 is already available in my Patreon! And by pledging you also get access to other stories before they go public!

#nate and dave #mind control #werewolf #straight to gay #gay hypnosis #hypnotized #brainwashing #brainwash #brainwashed

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bthenoise · 3 years

Text

Hometown Heroes: These Are Destroy Boys’ Top 10 Favorite Bay Area Bands

Photo by: Ash Gellman

Whether you’re looking to discover your next favorite punk rock group or rekindle your connection with Bay Area artists such as The Cramps, Dead Kennedys or Primus, you’ve come to the right place.

Today, to help learn more about emerging Hopeless Records act Destroy Boys, we’ve asked the talented trio to let us in on their musical mindset and show off some of their favorite hometown heroes from the Northern California community.

To check out which ten artists vocalist Alexia Roditis, guitarist Violet Mayugba, and drummer Narsai Malik picked as their favorites from San Francisco to Sacramento and everything in between, be sure to look below. Afterward, for more from the punk rock powerhouse Destroy Boys, head here.

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ALEXIS RODITIS

Burd

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Burd is this awesome duo from SF. I don’t remember the first time I saw them, but I went to every single one of their shows that I could get to. The guitar rips and the drums are so creative. Their two instruments combined with the vocals put me into a trance state where all I wanna do is spaz out and yell along. I feel very inspired by Burd’s hard, melodic, and clever guitar riffs. So sick.

Rituals of Mine

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Rituals of Mine is another one of my favorite Sacramento bands (Sacramento is not the bay, but Sac is where my roots lie. Don't @ me). Terra puts on an incredible performance, taking the crowd on a journey with them through the songs. Their music is very intricate and emotional, something I try to emulate in my own way in rock music.

The Cramps

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Gosh, I love The Cramps!! Another Sacramento band. They were one of the first local rock bands I got into when I first started going to shows. I couldn’t get enough of the sexual energy that comes through their songs, I hadn’t heard anything like it! I love they they’re proud freaks. Their music makes me want to dance and contort.

VIOLET MAYUGBA

Tørsö

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Torso (stylized as Tørsö) is an absolutely ripping hardcore band based out of Oakland, CA. I heard them for the first time when I was 17 and still living in Sac. They completely changed my vision of hardcore, and influenced me to add a bit more power to some of the riffs I was writing.

Dead Kennedys

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Everyone knows this one. DK's Give Me Convenience Or Give Me Death was the first record I had ever bought for myself at 13 (2 years before we started the band). I couldn't stop listening. The urgency and the anger of this band completely painted a picture to me of the kind of music I wanted to make.

RAD

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RAD were a thrash hardcore band from Sacramento that Alexia and I used to go see all the time. Completely consuming hardcore that would bust through 15 songs in close to 15 minutes. They were the first female fronted hardcore band I had ever seen, and I NEVER went back.

Deftones

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My favorite Sacramento band of all time. Around The Fur helped me create a higher expectation of my guitar parts, and influenced me to add darkness and character to our songs. Also, just the sickest band ever.

NARSAI MALIK

Juicebumps

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The best current band in San Francisco, hands down. Their debut album ‘Hello Pinky’, which came out in July of 2020 is a top to bottom work of freakish genius. Recorded on tape, this album is all over the place in the best way possible. From tracks that consist only of samples, to full on timeless bangers, to music made by and for computers, there’s something for everybody. I’m sure in another dimension, Juicebumps formed because Devo and Nirvana met in a club in Berlin and had a naughty one night stand, and they were the spectacular creation that popped out nine months later. Their range in style is truly inspiring because I always strive to be stylistically diverse, and I never want our band to be stuck to one sound. Listening to Juicebumps and seeing them live always leaves me thinking, grooving and laughing my ass off which is the perfect trifecta of emotions when I’m listening to music.

Primus

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My older brother’s hand-me-down iPod Nano had many nuggets of wonder in it, many of them heavily contributing to the music that now embodies who I am as a person. One band on the iPod was Primus and the only song saved under their name was “Harold of the Rocks”. Because I had enjoyed the rest of what was in my brother’s music library, I remember putting it on and thinking nothing of it, but I couldn’t make it past the verse because it was way too advanced and non-traditional rock for my lower school brain. Many years later when I had gotten into Primus’ other hits like “Jerry Was a Race Car Driver” and “John the Fisherman”, I revisited the fabled song and had a revelation that Primus was one of the most important bands to ever come out of San Francisco. At this point in my life, as opposed to when I first found out about them, I had started playing drums. Something I take away from listening to Primus even to this day, is how their drummer Tim Alexander fits in notes where you would have never imagined playing them in a million years. He opened my eyes to the fact that there’s more than just on-beats and off-beats, and that there’s way more room to throw in flurries of hi-hats or whatever, tastefully of course.

Sly and the Family Stone

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I honestly didn’t know that Sly and the Family Stone were from San Francisco, until I did a quick search for bands from here, but I’ve always loved them! My mom grew up in Chicago in the 70’s, so funk and soul have always been a part of her. It was played in our house and on road trips but I never fully appreciated it until much later. What I like about Sly is that he has the charisma of James Brown, but a down-to-earth, not so untouchable feel to his music. Before I listened to Sly, all l knew about funk was the flashy, ‘show-biz’ side of it, but Sly and his band made me feel like I could play this kind of music too. I love funk music because it feels so open and freeing, and it’s just really fun to play on drums. It has a sense of candidness and inclusivity that draws you in, even when you’re just playing along to songs in your headphones. It’s the only type of music where I can completely shut my brain off and just play. I’ve always tried to apply that unrestricted feeling to my drum parts, and Sly’s songs are the epitome of that for me.

#Destroy Boys #Hopeless Records #Sly & The Family Stone #Primus #Juicebumps #Deftones #RAD #Dead Kennedys #Torso #The Cramps #Rituals Of Mine #BURD

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themousefromfantasyland · 3 years

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The Yule Man (1/7)

As told by ME

This was meant to be a short story, but it became too big, so I separated it in seven parts. I want to turn my blog in a space where I can share my writting every once and a while.

This is the first time I post one of my stories on a public space. This is the first time anyone besides my sister will be able to read, so I'm pretty exciting and anxious. I want honest criticism. I hope you all enjoy it.

"It's he who brings the Yule ice and snow to Arnsberg." The little girl said.

Everything seemed somehow brighter and warmer on that peaceful afternoon.

The lines of holly hanged above the walls and windows gave an otherworld feel to the street. The jingle of the bells of the market down the avenue helped to remind how happiness sounded like. Silver bells adorned the rooftops. The traditional statues of silver stood on the churches’ terrains.

They promised that the Silver God would once again bless his holy season. The store windows promised an affable and cozy night. That was not what that beggar boy received.

The confectionery attendant shoved him away with all scorn and disdain possible in a man. Why did he should show him kindness? The boy couldn't pay, and he was so filthy dressed he would drive customers away. And as he said beneath his breath while coming back to the store:

"Magic only brings trouble."

Mia Hayek and her baby sister were stepping in their carriage when they saw the scene. The poor young man looked at the sweets in the windows of the confectionery with so much craving. He looked as if he hadn't eaten anything in a long time.

She took out her long wide hat and her cotton scarf and asked her sister if she knew that boy. The little girl, with all sincerity that a child is capable off, responded.

He had a slender and thin body, but the enormous, hooded fur coat worn swallowed it completely. He carried a huge bag of shabby cloth against his back. The fur hood and the cloth around his lower face made it hard to give him an age. Mia was sure he couldn't be older than twenty.

Everyone in Arnsberg knew the boy. Always seen wandering without destination in the Solstice Eve carrying that stained bag. He arrives in town no sooner than the first snow. He stays for the twelve days of the Yule Festival, then he disappears. And no one can find him before the next one.

Mia saw him in the last year. He lived near the park in front of the bakery. The baker shoved him away as if he was a stray dog. He has not changed a thing from then.

"He never changes." Sophia mindlessly added. "Even mother remembers him from her time. He never changes."

Mia stared at the boy. Ragged and disheveled. Time had devoured those clothes, tattered and grimy as they looked.

"Is he magical?" Mia asked.

"Yeah!" Her little sister nodded. "But he can only bring the snow, he can't control it. He's harmless."

"Stay here!" She told her.

Mia stepped out of the carriage and walked in the direction of the boy as fast as her boots allowed. Noticing being followed, he turned. She stopped in the spot.

The hood obscured his face. He maintained his back bended, and he avoided looking into her eyes. By the way he stayed quiet, she knew he was nervous. People dressed like her usually didn't had nice things to say to people dressed like him.

"You're beautiful!" He whispered to himself, hoping only he listened.

She smiled back.

"Thank you!"

She heard and he could only blush in response.

"Sorry, but I always see you around here during this time." She began saying while messing with her curly hair. "The town can get pretty cold. Do you have where to pass the night."

The boy chuckled, and she could see a vague spark in his eyes.

"The cold never bothered me anyway, madam."

"What do you carry with you?" She came forward and touched his long bag. It felt so freezing that she immediately withdrew as by sheer impulse.

He lowered the cloth that covered his face and looked up to her, allowing Mia to take a deep look.

"I... I should already release this thing, but... I got distracted. I wanted to find something to eat first, so..." He sounded so nervous, trying so hard to justify himself, as if fearing punishment.

His face was pale and soft, still with signs of boyhood. His eyes were big and innocent, in bright green. His beard was as red as a fox, and it was shaggy and full of pieces of ice.

"...and now I don't know where to release this stuff."

"Do you have where to spend the holidays?" She interrupted him.

"No." He answered embarrassed.

The question really pierced through him. She saw how it affected him in the wrong way. A second question slipped through her mouth before she could have time to re-evaluate it.

"Do you found somewhere to eat?"

He didn't respond.

She drew his hands, letting his bag land on the ground. It surprised her how soft and warm they were.

"Stay the Yule with us."

Mia could just have brought him food and then forget anything about him in the next day. Any normal person would do that. Maybe she felt a genuine urge to help him. Maybe her pity for him spoke louder. Perhaps she found him too adorable to let go. Whatever the real reason may be, something drew her to him.

"My father is wealthy, but generous. I'm sure he'll allowed it."

He smiled to her by a second, as if he loved the idea, but then he frowned, as if he remembered something.

"I'm sorry. You have been very kind, but I can't."

"Please!" She insisted, her voice cracking a little. "You can't spend the Yule in the streets and in the cold."

""I already used to it."

He forced a sly grin, as if trying to tranquilize her. He continued. "I'm sure you mean well, but it's better that I stay here."

"Our mansion is always open to those who need it, and you'll be well treated there."

"A mansion?" He frowned.

"My father is Mr. Hayek. My name is Mia Angela Hayek. Ravi de vous rencontrer." She greeted him with the dress.

"Never heard of him." He joked.

"Please, stay with us. We...

"Is it comfy..."

"What?" She asked surprised.

He spoke in a tone that made her think of a timid small boy.

"Your mansion. Is it comfy and cozy? That's how I always picture these places to be." He didn't want her to see he smiled.

"Of course." She nodded.

"Does it have a fireplace?"

"Yes. You can drink hot cocoa by it and eat some gingerbread cookies if you want."

"I never eat a gingerbread cookie."

"You can eat all sweets you wish. The kitchen has smelled wonderful since morning. My father is giving a big ball tonight. It will be so full of cakes and sweets. It will make even the most illustrious confectioneries envious."

Mia saw how much the idea pleased him, how much it tempted him to say yes. Yet, something held him back.

Against his better judgment, he said:

"Okay."

The air grew colder on that moment. The winter breeze brought chills down her spine. Whatever it was, the boy felt it too.

"But just for one night." He soon added.

"What's your name?"

"I don't have one." He said while pulling back his bag.

She tilted her head.

"How come you have no name?"

"Never needed one."

James Hayek had all the reasons to be jolly during the holidays. This son of immigrants became the most important merchant in all the North Kingdom. The Hayeks were the wealthiest mixed family in Arnsberg. This filled him with pride, but also a deep sentiment of duty. As a child of Arnsberg by heart he felt as his duty to retribute all his good luck back to the community.

The Hayek Mansion was a charming building located near the road down to Arnsberg, far close to the forest. Mr. Hayek certified himself that its doors would be forever open to the town that welcomed him.

It was the Solstice Eve. Tomorrow the Yule Festival would begin, twelve days of tradition and merriment. A gigantic fir-tree of nine meters was brought to the mansion's courtyard. The servants of the Hayek family surrounded its needles with all sorts of ornaments. They garnished the Yule Tree with silver, gold, and all kinds of jewelry. On its top, the Solstice Sun ornament promised to shine brighter than the real one. Not even Queen Ava's tree in the Royal Palace was as beautiful as the one who stood now in the Hayek Mansion.

Dozens of statues of goats surrounded the tree, all carefully made of pure straw. A somewhat forgotten tradition that Mr. Hayek couldn't let go in any capacity.

Two full tables had been already set. Roast turkeys and ducks, steamed hams and caramelized cods covered the first table.

The second table looked like a small child's fever dream. Colorful palaces of gelatin and chocolate sprinkled with sugar. Snowy towns and castles of gingerbread covered with white marzipan. Fountains and rivers flowing with chocolate. Towers of cakes and pies. Mountain chains of pudding with nuts and chestnuts boulders. It had enough to maddening the youth.

When Mia and Sophia arrived at the Hayek residence, the Yule Log had been already tossed into the fire. Both her and her sister helped the fur-cladded boy stepped out of the carriage. No sooner they crossed the golden gates, the servants already whispered between themselves. They couldn't help but gaze at the peculiar young man with awe and curiosity.

As soon as the girls walked upon the carpet in the living room, their parents rushed to speak to them. When Mr. Hayek first heard the news, he had to come to see it by himself.

"You brought the Yule Man?" He gave a strong laughter that came straight from the bottom of his belly.

The boy didn't know how to react, so he stepped behind the sisters and gave him an awkward smile.

Mr. Hayek was a cheerful and youthful old man. Mrs. Hayek could be the proudest woman the world has ever seen. She fitted the role of the women who dressed to show the world her social status. Her blue eyes had troubles showing affection. Her corn-like hair was stylized in the same way as the fashion magazines. Meticulously armed.

She approached Mia to talk in particular.

"You should be getting dressed." She spoke with veiled bitterness.

Mia tried her best to argue back.

"Sorry mother, I was doing shopping when..."

Her mother definitely didn't want to know. She twisted her eyebrows and said:

"Why are you so irresponsible. I'm tired of sorries. And what are you wearing for the gods' sake" She started yelling.

Mia swallowed her mother's sermons with her best poker face. Since she was a child, she knew how harsh Mrs. Hayek's criticism could be. Nothing different from the woman that searched for defects in everything.

"You know how this night is important. It's your first ball. My daughter shouldn't look like a hag." She took a pause to breath. "Go get dressed!"

Sophia came forward.

"Can the Yule Man spend the Yule with us?" She asked with manipulative eyes.

"You can't bring him here." She whispered while offering a false smile to greet the newcomer boy.

Fritz and Thomas, Sophia's elder brothers, looked at him with intense curiosity.

"Magic always leads to trouble." She put.

"Mother, he needs us." Mia shot back. "Besides not aging, there's not that much he can do. He is harmless."

"Mia, can you stop arguing..." Her mother tried to shut her down as she always did.

Mia had other plans.

"Father..." She turned to Mr. Hayek. "This is the true Yule Man. You can show him to the town's children tonight.

"I like children." His tiny voiced ricocheted off the living room walls. They turned to face him.

"They are nice to me." He said in a small tone behind them.

They almost had forgot he was still there.

"My dear, I don't know..." Mr. Hayek gazed at his unhappy wife.

"Remember when you were young and poor, and they chased you off that department store." She pointed to the boy. “They shoved him out of the confectionery as if he were nothing. He doesn't have where to spend the Yule days. He never had."

Mr. Hayek grew quiet. Not everyone had been nice to him. The way he looked had closed a lot of doors before. He promised to never take part in any judgment by appearances.

"You win." He winked at her. "Okay. Welcome to our Yule party Mr. Yule Man.

The boy looked at Mrs. Hayek. He saw her eyes steaming.

The guest started appearing around the evening. The parties in the Hayek Mansion always yielded weeks of conversation and gossip. They were more accessible than official public events. Open to everyone who wanted to participate. Thanks to that Mr. Hayek received the charming nickname of the "Father of the Poor." from his enemies. He liked it.

In her bedchamber, Mia wore a ballgown that had the color of the winter night sky. A low busted and short sleeved gown that drew attention to her silhouette. It was richly embroidered with snowflake patterns that surrounded her skirt. A delicate bow tied her curly brown hair back, drawing attention to her delicate face. Her strong red lipstick contrasted quite well with her light-brown skin tone.

When she went down the staircase. She gasped at how beautiful her house looked. Decks of holly, ivy and winter roses scattered everywhere. When the Yule Man saw her, he gasped at how beautiful she looked. He raced to her, still with his bag.

"Why are you still wearing this thing?" She pressed her lips together. She sounded just as her mother.

"Sorry If I was too rude. Do you like it?"

"No. No. I don't like this thing at all." He chuckled while eating a huge piece of marzipan with his free hand.

"So, why do you wear it?"

"As if I had a choice." He smirked.

He had finished his attack on the table of sweets. His mouth still was stained with sugar and chocolate. She noticed he had pockets in his suit, because they were full of gingerbread cookies and pieces of cake. The corners of her mouth lifted a smile as soon as she realized it.

When they arrived at the courtyard, the guests already crowded the place. The music had begun. The youthful couples already waltzed together amid the chatter of their families. That scene never failed to fill Mia's eyes, and now she could be officially a part of it. Her first ball as a woman.

She saw her mother approaching.

"What are you wearing." She yelled in her lowest tone.

Mia stood in her defensive position.

"Mother, you promised I could pick my own dress."

Mrs. Hayek exhaled.

"Yeah, I did. You look beautiful."

Mia smiled in relief.

"You too mother."

"You look perfect, and it's Yule, but don't exaggerate on the food." She laughed. "You know how the woman in our family have problems with weight."

Mia forced a yellow smile as a good daughter. As soon as her mother departed, the boy tried to cheer her.

"That was close. You survived the attack of the amazing shrew. Good job."

Mia laughed out loud. He felt proud with himself.

The children on the place couldn't stop looking at him with amazement. She turned to him.

"You don't really have a name?"

His smile disappeared.

"No."

He tried to physically walk out of that social interaction. She followed him.

"Do you at least have parents or relatives?"

He spent a couple seconds thinking.

"I don't know. I believe that I don't."

"Where you go when you aren't in Arnsberg? Do you visit other cities?"

"I prefer not to think about that." He said as politely as he could.

"Can I ask about the bag?" She joked.

He handled the bag over to the other hand.

"Nope!"

He really didn't like the direction of that conversation.

"Can I least ask you about the beard? Do you like it?"

He stopped. He looked at her.

"Not even a little." He laughed. "It's shaggy, it scratches, and it annoys me so much."

"Why you don't shave it?"

"As if I had a choice."

That was getting on her nerves.

"Why wouldn't you have a choice?"

He looked deep into her eyes.

"Because only real people have a choice."

On that same moment, a man wearing a red fur cloak and carrying a sack full of toys and stepped out of the servant’s door. The children gasped and cheered his presence and rushed in his direction. The adults were left amazed. Santa Claus had arrived. By his side, a very tall man came closer, wearing a wooden goat mask and wearing a very thick coat. On his hand he carried birch branches. The children surrounded them in seconds. The Goat-masked man asked in his spookiest voice if they had been nice or naughty that year. Santa had already start delivering the presents to all the children.

Mia nudged him.

"It's my father. He lives by the Yule Festival." She boasted. "He loves to dress like Santa. He's the only black St. Nick in the town."

"I find funny how you always seem to agree that he's an old fat man in red."

He left her confused.

"Excuse me."

"St. Nicholas is way younger than that. And he drinks." He chuckled. "A lot."

She tilted her head and frowned.

"How can you tell? No one can see him."

He stayed quiet.

"Do you know the real Santa?"

He broke the silence.

"He's a good man. He's nice to me. The Yule Goat is bad. He's very bad. He beats children."

He nodded to the goat masked man. Mia saw that it unsettled him a bit.

"Calm down. It's just Edgar, our butler. He likes to scare kids, so every year he dresses like the Yule Goat."

All the kids after receiving their presents ran to his side. Mr. Hayek as the jolly saint came closer to Mia at said in direction of the young man:

"This man..." He certified himself to be heard by everyone. "...is the Yule Man. Today he will show us the magic of the Yuletide season."

The crowd turned and stared at him in intensity. The typical hypocrisy of mortals: They fear magic but can't lose a chance to see it close. The boy himself stayed quiet as a mouse in his spot.

Mia asked in his ear:

"Crowds make you nervous"

"Yep" He almost couldn't be heard.

"I realized."

He walked to the center of the courtyard without saying no more words. Near the fir-tree he tossed his bag on the ground. Mia attended all that closely.

He pulled the knot that tighten the bag closed and opened it. A single snowflake came out first. It flew like a white butterfly in the direction of the wind. Calm, gentle, beautiful. It shimmered like nothing else. Some of the children ran after it and tried to catch. A second came out, and third, and a fourth. The snowflakes then burst out of the bag, billions of them. Small bright crystals that looked more like pixie dust.

He opened his arms and allowed the endless wave of light blast off and fill the skies. The crowd clapped and cheered in a mad frenzy. Mr. Hayek couldn't believe his eyes.

Mia stood there, speechless. The sight took all her ability to think properly.

The Yule Man closed his eyes. He shook both hands together as quick as he could. The bright outburst ceased. The bag dissolved in icicles. As if the world's largest swarm, they dashed up, up into the sky, while the snow started to fall.

He turned back to them.

"And this...This is how the Yule snow comes to Arnsberg."

The crowd clapped in pure ecstasy. He exhaled relieved.

The kids chased him. The adults had troubles understanding what happened. Mia stayed quiet in her thoughts processing everything.

The north wind blew over them all. The boy felt the message sent to him down to his bones. A dark figure appeared in the corner. He knew there were consequences to be dealt with.

Mia searched for him when he appeared and shook her hand.

"I'm grateful for everything..." He started. "... but St. Nicholas saw me. I already violated too many rules."

And he ran away.

"What!"

She stayed behind, left speechless again.

Mia marched to her parents close to the mansion's entrance.

"Father, what did you said to him?"

She took Mr. Hayek by surprise.

"Nothing, I..."

Sophia stopped playing with the other girls and their new toys and walked to them.

"It was not him. It was the real Santa.

"Hey!" His heart broke. He said visibly offended. "How long do you know I am not..."

Mia interrupted him.

"Sophia, why are you talking about?"

"St. Nicholas came here to talk to him."

"How I didn't see him?"

She responded with such innocence that terrified Mia.

"He's invisible to you."

Mia rushed back inside and searched for him everywhere. She found him when he was getting nearer the front gate.

"Why did you leave?" She approached him behind pulled him by the arm. You said you would spend the night here."

"I can't. I simply can't. St. Nicholas talked to me...

"Santa? Santa threatened you?"

"No. St. Nicholas is nice to me." He argued. "Only a few like him are. The North Wind brought him here. He told him how I was breaking the rules. Different from him, I can be seen by mortals. He thinks it's not wise for me to get too close to them, to you."

He paused as soon as he realized how that sentence could be interpreted.

"To you guys, the mortals, your family." The awkwardness possessed his body.

Her forehead furrowed while pressing her lips together.

"What are the rules?"

He scratched his head and lowered it down.

"I arrive to Arnsberg by the first light of the Solstice Eve. I must leave before the first light after the Yule days are over."

Her expression lightened.

"So, you can spend the festival with us."

"Do you even listen to me?" He cried out loud.

She placed her hands over his shoulder.

"Listen, you will not violate any rules. As long as you left..." She gesticulated for him to continue it.

"Before the first light after the Yule days are over." He added.

"I know you liked here. So, what do you say.”?

"Mia, I can't."

She raised her voice.

"So, they want you to spend the holidays in the street?"

"I don't have a choice." His jaw clenched and he shut his eyes.

She drew him closer.

"Yeah, you do."

That simple phrase teared down his walls. He no longer felt the ground under his feet. His eyes teared up.

"Do you really believe that." He said in a cry voice.

She struggled to look him in the eyes now.

"I do." She smiled to him.

He closed his eyes.

"Okay, I will spend the Yule Festival with you."

He heard the wind blowing outside. A very bad omen indeed. For some Mia sensed butterflies on her stomach. She felt a sweet taste in her mouth. Something sweet and warm inside her chest.

"Okay, I will ask Edgar to lead you to the Guest room."

He shook his head.

"It isn't necessary. I hate giving people trouble. I can sleep anywhere."

She raised her eyebrows.

"But you need a name. Can I call you Christopher? I always found a beautiful name."

"Yeah, you can." His eyes twinkled while the corners of his mouth quickly turned up.

She stepped closer.

"Happy Yuletide, Chris!"

#christmas #holiday season #yuletide #my writting #writters on tumblr #my story #winter solstice #The Yule Man

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agent-cupcake · 4 years

Text

Beastie and the Bard

Fire Emblem Three Houses - Dimitri x Reader (Chapter 1)

Here it is, folks. Chapter one of my horrifically self indulgent reader insert fic where we can all collectively love Dimitri together. As is only right. Please enjoy.

Prelude in C Major Opus 1, No. 1

Centered in the very heart of Fódlan within the expansive range of the Oghma Mountains, buried deep behind lush forests and the foggy pass of Magdred Way, Garreg Mach Monastery loomed above the world from its sea of clouds, the stately towers and ancient architecture acting as stalwart sentinels for those below.

Upon first glance, you were enchanted. Upon second, enthralled. After that, it was only a matter of trying to distinguish which things you loved the most. Perhaps it was the way the grass that blanketed the area was so green and vivid, flourishing in spite of the passing seasons of cold. Maybe it was the enclosing lines of formidable stone walls your wagon passed on the way up, dotted by towers, topped by parapets, and washed in browns and grays by time’s ever turning hand. Or, possibly, it was what laid behind them that your heart was taken in by. Bustling civilian towns surrounded the monastery, markets and housing districts built on tier-like shelves along the climbing slope in a haphazard sprawl of civilization. Only about half of anything seemed to have been done with any purposeful design, but the people were lively and energetic, their intermingling voices and calls and the chaotic track of daily life creating a lovely sort of song to accompany your nervous anticipation.

A zigzagging road cut through the center of it all, leading up to the main gates of the monastery itself. Beyond that were the spire towers of the monastery, a place so old and established that the buildings seemed to have grown out of the mountain directly.

Garreg Mach Monastery was, simply put, beautiful.

You couldn’t say exactly what you had expected - how could you build up a mental image of a place when it was so different from anything you’d ever known? - but you knew that it surpassed whatever fantasies you might have been able to conjure. A musician’s life was built upon romantic comparison and clever use of words, but there was nothing quite like Garreg Mach that you could think to liken it to. In some ways, it brought to mind the hidden castles pictured in the illustrations of your childhood fairy stories, a place of wonderment seated up in the sky. In another sense, the grand structures invited thoughts of the daunting military fortresses in Rowe territory called Arianrhod, a place of protection and great strength.

Then again, it was unlike any of that. Garreg Mach was a dream come true, a place you’d been longing for since your youth, made even more wondrous because you were not here to simply admire and gawk. Aside from being the central location for Fódlan’s religion, the Church of Seiros, Garreg Mach was an academy specializing in the art of warfare. Perhaps it was odd that a monastery would be the host for a school well known for teaching students in the ways of the physical and logical aspects of battle, but upon seeing the place for yourself you felt no need to question the combination. Like the complementary entwinement of harmony and melody, or the pairing of bread and butter, it was something that made sense.

The market area at the very top of the mountain had a festival-like air to it when you finally arrived. Temporary stalls boasting toys and trinkets were erected alongside weapon racks full of silver and steel, the next tent over featuring mannequins dressed in heavily accessorized and stylized academy uniforms to lure in young students with the shine. Somewhere, something was being roasted, the enticing scent rolling in with the hundreds of other smells filling the square. And beyond all of it was Garreg Mach’s front hall. The wagoneer who had charged you two pennies for a ride to the top of the mountain pulled his small wagon to the side of the entrance gate where horses were hitched and wagons left so as to not further congest the busy market square.

Slinging your lyre case across your back using an invention of your own design with a thick leather strap crossing your chest, you jumped to the ground. Once your feet were planted, you luxuriously stretched your arms above your head, relieved to finally be finished with your travels.

Despite yourself, a shiver slithered down your spine. Although the weather was extremely mild in these parts of Fódlan, especially since it was only barely the new year, the altitude lent an extra bit of cold to the air. You were grateful for the warm blazer of the academy uniform, but perhaps regretting your stylish choice for stockings rather than leggings. Only somewhat. They were awfully cute, after all. A covered yawn invited the chilly late-morning air into your lungs, making you aware that the oxygen was far more thin than you were used to. It was something you had been warned of, but not quite expected.

“Are you ready?” Finnegan, the aged wagoneer, asked as he rounded the wagon, allowing the grooms to deal with his unhitched roan horse.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, smiling brightly and filled with renewed energy that had you bouncing on the balls of your feet with anticipation, and to fight off any clinging touch of that chill. With every movement, the case of your lyre tapped your back, a counterbeat to that of your heart and feet.

Finnegan laughed as he unloaded your trunk from on top of his boxed goods. “You oughta be saving that kind of talk for the knights, I’d say,” he told you in his odd accent, although he wore a friendly smile. At first glance the man had seemed quite gruff and intimidating, what with his sun aged face and wide brimmed hat casting deep shadows over his rugged features, but person’s character was something you felt you had to learn by more than just looking at them. Besides, he was the only one to offer to drive you to the top of the mountain rather than making you walk, which counted for a lot considering how late you already were in arriving to the academy.

“If that was the case I’d have to insist you call me ‘Lady’,” you told Finnegan primly, maintaining a serious look for just a moment before it split into another grin. “But, Master Finnegan, I don’t believe in such things.”

Finnegan laughed again, shaking his head in bewilderment. “If you say so, young miss,” he said.

You crouched to lift your heavy trunk. It was like you filled it with rocks, although you knew it was more accurate to say it was filled with trees, considering how much paper was packed away. One never knew how many books they’d need while training to become a hero.

“Er, would you like some help with that?” Finnegan asked, looking somewhat concerned. “I reckon if you sent for someone they could fetch it for you.”

Despite the weight, you didn’t feel strained as you stood up. Between a year and a half of intensive training and the natural strength lent to you by the Crest imbued in your body, you hardly blinked at the weight. It was rather impressive, really. Just a year ago you probably would have collapsed beneath it.

“It’ll be all right. I got it this far, after all,” you told him playfully. Finnegan still looked doubtful. Worried, maybe? But he didn’t argue, for which you were grateful. Even in this small way, he trusted that you weren’t too weak for the task. It bolstered your confidence. “I suppose this is farewell, then.”

“That it is, young miss.”

“Well, then… Good luck with your trade, Master Finnegan,” you said. Then paused a moment, something occurring to you. Carefully, you balanced your trunk on one knee to free a hand, a most precarious position. It was fine, however, as you only needed to retrieve a handful of small things. Coins. “Here! As a… Tip!” you said, holding the money out over the flat surface of your trunk.

“A tip, young miss? That’s not necessary, it was only a short journey,” Finnegan said, eyeing the coins doubtfully. You realized a second late it was a rather sizable sum to most people, especially for a tip. But even to you, hailing from a rather poor family by the standards of nobility, a pocketful of coin was all but worthless. You offered them up more insistently, afraid your precarious hold on your trunk would fail and unwilling to back down.

“For your smile and good company, then,” you told him. Finally, thankfully, he took the coins. You were happy to see it made him smile. Indeed, his face didn’t look even half as scary when he smiled, even if his teeth were crooked. It gave him character. “Goodbye, Master Finnegan. I’m happy to have met you.”

“Likewise. Good luck to you, young miss,” Finnegan said, tipping his wide brimmed hat.

And that was that. Perhaps there were more words you wanted to say, but you knew it was only prolonging the inevitability of having to venture into the crowd all by yourself. Finnegan himself was little more than a stranger, but he was relatively more familiar than what was to come. From here on out, it was only you and the world. Or, you and the academy. There had never been a time in your childhood that you had thought you’d be in a position of such grand freedom, or that such a thing would feel so precariously tilted, like you were balancing on the edge of a ledge and ready to fall any moment.

But you’d already come this far, and anxiety wasn’t the only thing making you jittery.

Weaving among the market square with your trunk making each step just a tad more cumbersome, you made your way towards the sweeping monument that was Garreg Mach’s entrance hall. There were as many people as there were on the spare occasion you went out into the streets of Fhirdiad, but these people were far different from those crowds. Energetic. Enthusiastic. Clean. There was no anger in the shoulders that bumped yours, and nobody cursed at you if you accidentally stumbled into them. It was what you’d always hoped the world would be, in a way.

Careful with the steps considering you couldn’t see them over your trunk, you finally got to the large doors. They were open, revealing a grand entrance hall swarming with even more people and activity and noise. Not even bothering with a steadying breath, you entered the fray with awe-filled eyes and parted lips, amazement filling you at the magnitude of it all. Just as you had thought while approaching, Garreg Mach was amazing. Fulfilling and surpassing any dream you could have ever had, more wonderful than any place you’d ever been. Truly without a parallel, Garreg Mach was -

Too busy gawking at your surroundings, you almost ran right into somebody.

“Watch where you’re going, girl!” the person snapped. You nearly fell in your skidding steps backwards, but managed to keep your balance after a bit of stumbling. Heart racing from the near catastrophe, you peered over your trunk to see who you had almost knocked over. A woman. She was dressed in the robes of the Church of Seiros with her graying hair in a rigid knot atop her head. Her bespectacled gaze was piercing, and you were certain her thin face had more wrinkles than skin.

“I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, shrinking beneath the weight of her glare, so similar to the intimidating look given to you by many of the tutors you’d had growing up. The woman neither accepted or rejected the apology, but you were certain that her lips tightened in disapproval, encouraging more words to tumble from your mouth apologetically. “I couldn’t see you over my trunk, and I was just a bit distracted because I only just arrived and it’s all so grand! But I really am sorry, I hope I didn’t hurt you or anything, I-”

“Name?” she interrupted brusquely, using a snappish tone of someone who was utterly certain of her command over your obedience. She was right. You gave your name to her quickly, without hesitation. From behind those narrow spectacles, she scanned the pages in the leather bound logbook she held.

“From Fhirdiad… Of low, noble birth… Oh, Imperial mother?” she muttered as she made a note with a charcoal pencil on the page, seemingly speaking to herself. You weren’t sure if you were meant to respond, but she saved you by raising her arm into the air, withered skin and church robe flapping with the movement. At her cue, a young man cut through the surrounding crowd and jogged up to the two of you. She didn’t even look up at his approach.

“Another student?” he asked, dark eyes flicking from her to you.

“She is,” the woman flipped to a different page in her book. “Bottom story room. It seems that there’s several available on the far end.” She made a mark on the page.

“Got it,” the young man said. “I can take that.” He motioned to take your trunk, which you’d nearly forgotten you were carrying while speaking. Just a year ago, your arms probably would have been trembling and weak by now. “You want me to take that, too?” he asked, pointing to the lyre case on your back. Your hand rose to touch the smooth shell of the case instinctively, protectively.

“No, thank you.”

He didn’t argue, nodding before sauntered off with your trunk, the retreating image of his back eaten by the crowd of students.

“Do you understand the Officer’s Academy system of organizing their students?” the woman asked.

“Yes, there are three houses,” you replied, repeating information you had rehearsed many times. “Since I come from Faerghus, I’ll be in the Blue Lions house.” Your sword instructor had graduated from the Blue Lions as well, a source of great pride for him. The severe woman nodded.

“Yes. Your house leader this year is Prince Dimitri, the heir to the Kingdom’s crown.”

Your stomach tightened, but you nodded. It was surreal to hear it said aloud, but expected. Even you, far removed from local gossip and noble politics, had heard that Prince Dimitri would be attending the Officer’s Academy. Although you’d often thought of him as being years your senior, his idol status elevating him to something far grander than your own limited existence, he was the same age as you.

“You’ll be expected to complete registration before class begins the day after tomorrow, although I recommend making time for it today so you may receive your official room assignment and key,” the woman continued. “Any further questions can be answered to your house leader or professor.”

“Understood,” you agreed automatically, a response instilled in you through the brute force of too many frightening authority figures.

“That’s everything, then,” she said, snapping her book closed. “If you continue ahead you will find the common rooms where I’m sure you will be able to locate your house leader for further questions. It is, of course, expected that you will behave in a fashion suited to a student at the Officer’s Academy at all times.” The pointed glare made you shy away, but you nodded. She gave a single, curt bob of her head in acknowledgement. “Now, please excuse me, there are other students who require my attention.” She did not wait for you to respond, leaving you standing alone without even a goodbye or good luck. Using your excellent judgement of character, you decided you didn’t like that woman very much.

But, being alone gave you a moment to pause and catch your breath, studying the crowd of students around you. They were nearly as interesting as Garreg Mach itself. They were wildly varied in terms of appearance and disposition, hailing from all parts of Fodlan, but they all wore uniforms just like yours. They’d come to Garreg Mach for the same reason as you, to learn the art of fighting and battle. Most of them would be noble, or at least extremely wealthy. Both, sometimes. Not that it mattered. Your dream had nothing to do with nobility or wealth, or even to do with other people. That didn’t mean you couldn’t make friends, though. You’d never had a friend from the Empire or Alliance. Well, really you hadn’t ever had a friend at all. The idea that you would was frightening, but exciting.

Even more frightening, yet exciting, was the fact that you were about to meet someone you had spent most of your life idolizing. Oddly, the idea invited far more nerves than anything else. Prince Dimitri was no longer your idol, and he hadn’t been since you crested the cusp of childhood, but he was still royalty. The genesis of your dreams of knighthood and heroism.

After a bit of uncertain mental back and forth, you decided to gather the guts to ask someone where you might find your house leader, realizing how easily you could get lost when you made it past the great entrance hall and into the expansive space beyond.

Blue cape, the first student said. Blond hair. Likely hanging around the common rooms. Or the dormitory, another chimed in. Wait, hadn’t you heard that the house leaders were leaving today? He was already gone. Oh no, claimed another student, they hadn’t left yet. Yes, he could have sworn he just saw the Blue Lions professor hurrying past. His face oddly pale, too. A bit weird, don’t you think?.

So began your first journey around the huge and confusing labyrinth of Garreg Mach. Not only did you know next to nothing about the layout, but you weren’t even entirely certain if the one you were looking for was still here. According to some sources he and the other house leaders were already gone. After a certain point, you were ready to admit defeat and settle for locating the rest of your class, until you saw the back of a head with cropped golden blond hair. Beneath it waved a cape so blue it seemed to make every other color less intense.

Anticipation spiked in your heart. Nerves. Fear. Excitement. It had to be him. Somehow, you were certain of that.

On feet sore from the strain of breaking in your new school shoes, you hurried towards the figure. “Excuse me!” you called, drawing the gazes of the other students in the main hall. Right back where you’d begun, actually. You’d made so many circles around the monastery grounds you probably should have felt dizzy.

Luckily, the man in blue paused, turning his head back towards you curiously.

It was strange. As was only natural considering how long it had been, the prince looked completely different, yet you felt an instant pang of recognition. It was really true. It was him. You came to a stop a few feet away, breathing heavily from a combination of all the running and thinner air and uncomfortably aware that there was a sheen of sweat on your brow. Not exactly the best impression, but you managed a nervous smile regardless.

“You’re the house leader? For the Blue Lions?” you asked, a hand on your cheek in a vain attempt to cool it. You should have used his name, but somehow you felt too embarrassed to say it out loud.

“I am,” Dimitri responded slowly, curiously.

“You’re awfully difficult to find, you know,” you said with a breathless little laugh, trying to play off your nerves. Realizing immediately after that it sounded an awful lot like you were criticizing him, you quickly added, “But I’m not upset! It’s just that grounds are so big and I kept getting lost and I was told to talk to you before anything else and… Oh!” You stopped rambling and took a deep breath. It was easy to convince yourself that the only reason why your head was spinning was the altitude. You introduced yourself with a bow that was only slightly awkward due to the weight of the lyre case on your back. Ladies curtseyed, but your new position dictated that a bow was more appropriate. Recognition filled Dimitri’s eyes at some point during your drawn out introduction, curiosity being replaced by understanding.

“So you’re the late arrival. My apologies for not being there to greet you. Please allow me to welcome to the Officer’s Academy. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crown prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus” he said, bowing neatly, the movement carefully controlled with perfectly stiff posture and grace. “Although, while we’re here, I’m simply a fellow student. Please feel free to address me informally. It’s an honor to have you in our class.”

“The honor is all mine,” you replied, only mostly flustered by his elaborate introduction, but smiling at his welcome all the same.

“Do you have any questions about life here at Garreg Mach, or your role as a student?” Dimitri asked, his voice polite and earnest, eyes the same startling shade of powder blue as you remembered. It was a color you spent much of your youth attempting to put to song, but seeing it again, you realized you’d never gotten it quite right. “I haven’t much time, but I would be happy to answer them.”

You didn’t even know if you had questions or not, you couldn’t remember what you had been thinking before finding him other than frustration at being lost and anticipation at seeing him again.

“You’re going somewhere?” you asked instead.

“The leader’s for each of the three houses are going on an expedition together so we may become more familiar before classes start,” Dimitri explained. “My most sincere apologies for such a short greeting, but I imagine we’ll be back tomorrow. If you have questions in the meantime, I don’t doubt that the other Blue Lions students will be of great help in answering them. I believe you can find them in the common room.”

“Oh… All right! Thank you, Your Highness,” you said, bubbly despite the nerves. Or perhaps because of them. You couldn’t help but note that your voice was just a touch too high to be considered normal. “And, um.. Good luck!”

Dimitri surveyed your enthusiastic smile before giving you one his own, an expression that didn’t reach his famously blue eyes. Not that it looked false, really. It was a smile that made you aware of one of the largest differences between your first meeting and this one. All those years ago, you had both had your fathers at your side.

Men who were now dead.

“Thank you. I will endeavor to do my best.” Dimitri bowed again. Then, with a vaguely militaristic step, he turned and left through the large doors. They allowed afternoon sun into the grand entrance hall, warm and golden, slanting slightly into your eyes.

After a beat of standing there uncertainly, you turned on your heel to leave. Your thoughts lingered on the meeting. Seeing as you had only met Dimitri the once, it came as no great shock that he wouldn’t remember you. A starry eyed girl would always recall her meeting with a prince, while you were just one of the hundreds to him. Mostly, it was just surreal. For years after that meeting, Prince Dimitri had something akin to a storybook character come to life. An object of your childhood fantasy, not a person. Meeting again, you were made aware that he was just a man. An orphan with weary eyes.

Shaking your head, you tried to cast out the prince from your mind altogether. Dimitri was far and away from being the reason you had worked your heart out to come to the Officer’s Academy, even if once upon a time he had been the inspiration. You were now a woman, free of such childish idealism. Adult idealism was much different.

For one, these ideals were going to be realized, of that you were most truly and absolutely certain.

Prelude in C Major Opus 1, No. 2

Garreg Mach was a mystery. You realized that pretty soon after getting lost for the third time. The old stone walls and large buildings were filled with a thousand little details and secrets just waiting to be discovered. It reminded you of the months directly following your move to your father’s estate when you were younger, before you knew everything it had to offer. It was a mystery that you wouldn’t be able to solve so quickly, but by that night, you at least knew the cast.

You first met Annette, the incredibly friendly and clumsy sorceress. Despite her tiny frame, she toppled you right onto the ground with her in her mad dash attempt to pull you to meet her best friend Mercedes. Mercedes, Annette’s best friend and white magic sorceress, greeted you with a smile so warm you felt it in your heart. She bandaged Annette’s scraped knee with a patience that led you to believe she’d done it many times before while they told you about the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad, a place you’d heard of but never seen.

Then there was Ashe, the adopted son of Lord Lanato of the Gaspard Territory you had traveled through on your way to the monastery. His easy smile and soft green eyes invited an instant sense of trust, and it seemed that the both of you had similar goals and dreams. He was infectiously enthusiastic about the both of you trying your very best.

Ingrid was chivalrous and proud. You only properly met her when another member of the class named Sylvain approached you with flirtatious intent, only to be promptly scolded by the virtuous blonde. Old friends, she explained while Sylvain rubbed the back of his head where she’d smacked him, along with His Highness and Felix. Felix had a hard stare and intimidating aura, but he did smile while teasing Ingrid about her excitement over the food at Garreg Mach, so you doubted that he could be that bad.

Dedue you wound up meeting by accident, as he hadn’t been in the commons room. Actually, you met him in the greenhouse. The giant of a man had been tending to the flowers within. You only recognized him based on description, although it would have been impossible to mistake him. Prince Dimitri’s vassal and a man of Duscur. He didn’t say much to your introduction, and his gaze was intimidating and impossible for you to read.

Duscur was the country razed to the ground after taking the blame for the King’s assassination some years back. You didn’t know a lot about the tragedy that had taken place, or any of the events leading up to it, aside from that it had resulted in Dimitri’s father’s death, as well as the death of many others. There were many people who whispered about how bizarre and inappropriate it was for Dimitri to have chosen a man of Duscur as his vassal, although you found it hard to believe that Dimitri would trust someone of rotten character. Besides, you’d never seen such large hands be so tender with something as delicate as flowers.

By the next morning, you had a basic knowledge of Garreg Mach’s layout. Basically. At the very least, you got from your room to the mess hall and then to the baths without much trouble.

By the afternoon, you learned that the house leaders were back in the monastery.

A half hour later, you were told that there had been bandit attack that had nearly killed all three lords. To much fanfare and relief, they were accompanied back to the monastery by the mercenaries who saved them, a man named Jeralt who used to be a Knight of Serios and his son.

Jeralt’s son introduced himself as Byleth. You’d heard whispers among the students that called him the Ashen Demon, a moniker he’d picked up while doing mercenary work. To you, he didn’t look very demonic. His expression was perfectly serene, uncaring. Lacking emotion entirely, it almost seemed. But he was attractive, what with those dark blue eyes and messy hair, and very polite and softspoken. And he’d saved Dimitri. Besides, everyone was talking of how skilled he was in battle.

You liked him. How could you not?

An hour and a half after meeting the man, the Blue Lions were all gathered together and informed that Byleth was to be your new professor. Apparently, the other one had ran away in fear when the bandit attack happened, which had become a mere footnote in the excitement of Professor Byleth’s arrival and sudden hire as a teacher. A cowardly man you’d never meet, it seemed. Not that it mattered much. Who better to teach you to be a heroic knight than someone with actual combat experience? Your newly minted Professor Byleth didn’t seem to be too concerned one way or another about the entire affair, his dark eyes measuring each one of his new students in turn before wishing you all a good night.

The next day, classes began. And such was the start of your education at Garreg Mach Officer’s Academy.

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dedue molinaro #felix hugo fraldarius #sylvain jose gautier #ashe ubert #annette fantine dominic #mercedes von martritz #ingrid brandl galatea #dimitri #dimitri x reader #my writing #fire emblem three houses #FE3H #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd x reader #beastie and the bard

142 notes · View notes

damienthepious · 4 years

Text

INTERNALLY I AM SCREAMING EXTERNALLY I AM ALSO SCREAMING,,, BUT LET’S HAVE SOME BOUQUET WHILE I SCREAM INTO A PILLOW.

Even With Missteps (chapter 3)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ao3] [ch 4] [???]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Lord Arum/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Sir Damien, Rilla, (other characters mentioned)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Dancing, Costume Parties & Masquerades

Summary: There is a masquerade ball in the Citadel tonight. Every knight and citizen has turned out, and all of them bear disguises of monstrosity. What better time could there be, for a monster who needs to find a way inside?

Chapter Summary We are attempting to be fair. There is still at least one dance that is owed.

Chapter Notes: i'm so fucking gay y'all. can i mention again this was supposed to just be a one shot? how LONG is this now? oh my god. anyway now there HAS to be a fourth chapter, because i completely changed how this chapter was supposed to end and things have gone entirely off the rails again. this is a mess. hit me up on tumblr if you wanna know how this was SUPPOSED to end. also please go listen to the new episode i'm DYING.

Arum descends, his mind still roiling and disbelieving, and his claws click lightly on the stone when he reaches the balcony level again, but there is no one close enough by to hear, or to see. No sharp-eyed attendees attend his presence, this time.

As such… Arum indulges one more moment. He glances towards the window above, and through the darkness and the curtains he can see nothing in truth. He imagines shadows in the room, at least. Imagines the shape of his honeysuckle, awkwardly explaining his absence to a colleague, explaining that he had, of course, found nothing of interest in the Queen’s chambers.

... Arum still does not understand.

Many things, if he is being honest with himself, as he so rarely is. He does not understand Sir Damien, does not understand this sharp-fanged little basilisk with his lilting voice and his gentle eyes, his sharp arrows and his bright laugh. He does not understand why a knight would ever, ever suffer a monster to live. Not under any circumstances, let alone such ridiculous ones as these.

Humans. Baffling creatures… though, not quite in the way Arum expected them to be. He turns his attention towards a sharp noise back inside, looking through the sheer curtains into the party, and he watches a pair of human hatchlings - children, he thinks - laughing uncontrollably beneath their chickenfeather-harpy costumes as they swing each other's hands back and forth. Arum shakes his head quickly, turning away, and then he gives the window above one more glance.

Arum does not understand his own reactions, either. The knight failed to perform his duty- but Arum has done much the same. The knight should be dead.

Two dances, and Arum is made a fool. He scoffs at himself, digging the claws of his hidden lower hands into his midsection to try to suppress the way his stomach jumps in discomfort, and… he is still staring at the window above. He does not have time for this. He does not. He should already be on his way home in the understanding that this evening has been a failure, or better yet he should be looking for some way to salvage this, some other alternative focus he can select for his prototype. There is no cause for him to waste time in musing, he can worry over his own stupidity in the Keep, when he is safe-

“Hey there, stranger.”

Arum whirls on the voice, realizing quite a bit too late that there is a human closer than is comfortable. He manages, by a fraction, not to hiss instinctively. His cover may not be completely intact anymore, but that is no reason to toss it out while it may still serve him.

The human is small, though not as small as his basilisk- as Sir Damien, rather. Her mask is brassy, with a sharp pointed beak over her nose, beneath which she is grinning at Arum in a way that would put him instantly on edge, were he not already tense to begin with.

She is also, decidedly, in the way of his current escape route, back through the party.

“Er- greetings,” Arum awkwardly grates out, and the human’s grin, if anything, tilts wider. “If you will pardon-”

“Nah, I don’t think I’ll pardon. Care for a dance?”

Arum stares down at her, wondering if the sheer force of his confusion and irritation are properly conveyed through his mask. “No.”

She raises an eyebrow, shimmering red and gold dusting her dark skin in stylized flaming streaks. “No?”

“I am leaving, I do not have-”

“It’s Arum, right?”

Arum flinches, then freezes, and he is glad, at least, that the human cannot see his panicked face.

“Excuse me?” he barks. “Who- how-”

“You’re the one who stole a dance from my partner earlier tonight,” she says slyly, coming closer while he stands stock-still.

“You-” Arum swallows uncomfortably, glancing again towards the window above for a moment, but he still cannot see anyone looking down towards the balcony. “You are attached to h- Sir Damien, then?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” She shrugs. “So what I figure is, you technically stole a dance that should have been mine, right?”

“I- I don’t have time for-”

“So you owe me a dance, then.”

“What?”

She grins, the sharp white curve of her teeth intersected by the triangle of her mask’s beak, and she edges even closer, and despite Arum’s instincts he knows he cannot back away or else it will show too much weakness in front of this little creature. He cannot obey the traitorous instincts urging him to lean into her mammal heat, either. Obviously.

“I said you owe me a dance, Arum, and you look like you’re about to bolt out of here, so I know I gotta take what’s owed to me now or I might not get another chance.” Her smile shifts a little less predatory, a little more warm instead of hot, and she lifts her hand towards him in request. “Just one dance. One dance won’t kill you, will it?”

Arum does not look back up towards the window above, does not look over the human’s shoulder to see if any knights are coming their way, and thinks that perhaps, just maybe, it might kill him. There is something undeniable in her eyes, though. Something in the certainty of her posture and her smile. And-

Dancing with Damien had been… not unpleasant. It stands to reason that if this little creature is his usual partner, it is likely that she will be similarly skilled, will she not? And Arum may have already settled his debts, so to speak, with Damien, but this human cannot possibly know that, and- and Arum still needs to cross the room again, to make his escape. None would expect a thief to return to cavorting and revelry after he was nearly found out, would they?

He has waited too long in the consideration. The human leans just slightly closer, and one of her hands reaches, brushing her gloved fingers (still impossibly hot, a phoenix she is dressed as and she has equal fire, certainly-) against his own, and without thinking he spreads his fingers, allowing her to take his hand properly.

Well. The decision is made, though he is still not convinced that he is the one who made it.

Arum steps closer, breath leaving him in a sigh, and her eyes go bright and delighted above the curve of her beak.

“I suppose… if the fairness matters so much, if settling the score is so very important to you, little phoenix-”

Her other hand moves to the correct place upon him, but then slips a past that, just skirting the edge of propriety as she slots herself a little too close, very much too warm. Must all these creatures run hearth-hot?

“I’m not, really. Concerned with the fairness, I mean,” she says with a wicked little grin as they begin to sway together. “It is a really good excuse, though.”

Arum-

Laughs. A helpless little breath of it escapes between his teeth, and apparently that encourages her because her grin grows wider.

Arum's estimations of her dancing prowess were correct, in a way. She is not unpleasant to dance with, as Damien was not, but her style is markedly different. Damien dances with a certain elegance, a feeling of controlled grace. This little phoenix is skilled, but there is more joy here than elegance by a wide gulf. She knows precisely what she is doing, but she clearly intends to enjoy every step, regardless of propriety or decorum. An admirable attitude, so far as Arum is concerned.

"You are unconcerned with your former partner as well, then?" Arum asks, because it seems like something a human would care about. The little phoenix gives her own laugh, tossing her head back to do so, and the unselfconsciousness of the gesture makes Arum's frill shiver with the desire to flare beneath the constriction of his mask.

"I'm almost always concerned about Damien in one way or the other," she says with a shrug that shifts her skin against Arum's palm. "But considering that he's run off from a party to do work - again - I don't think he'll mind too much if I find someone else to entertain me for a little while."

"I am not entertainment," Arum grumbles, but his footwork does not falter with the complaint, and the way her eyes glint as she smirks up at him makes the claim feel rather flimsy.

"Besides," she continues, entirely ignoring his protest, "it'd be pretty hypocritical for him to complain about it, don't you think?"

"I- I suppose-"

"He knows how to pick a partner, though," she says, and there is no small degree of smugness in her tone as she guides their steps in a gentle sort of circle around the wide balcony. "You're kind of a natural at this."

"O-oh," Arum says. While they dance, he cannot exactly look away from her, cannot distract himself from the warmth of her body or her words. "Oh. Th-thank you." He pauses, attempting for a long moment to focus more on his surroundings, and then he processes the words the human spoke aside from her compliment. "Though- though, I picked him, not the other way around."

"Hm," she says. "Out of curiosity, why did you pick him, anyway? It's a big sort of party, lots of folks to choose from…"

"He-" Arum stutters, but there do not appear to be any further words ready to rise to his tongue.

You are the only monster here who has interested me in the least. Those were the words he whispered into Sir Damien's ear when first he gathered the knight into his arms, and- and Arum, at the time, had assumed himself a liar. He is unsure, now, if he had been, but that memory-

Elegant little basilisk with longing in his eyes, still amidst a sea of movement, drawing Arum's eyes as bright as the rising sun-

"He has… an air about him," Arum settles on, his voice stilted and soft, and the little phoenix give a much more gentle smile, then.

"He really does, doesn't he?" She sighs then, and when she glances back up at him from beneath her mask her expression is wry. "Alright, okay, I should stop teasing. It's not like I can blame you for being charmed- or for being charming."

Arum barks a laugh, too surprised to do anything else. "Charming-"

"You were gonna leave before I interrupted, right? Let me dance you across the ballroom, at least. Then you can just take off, if you'd like."

Arum blinks down at her, utterly baffled. "Are all-" he pauses, "people from this Citadel like the pair of you?" Arum asks incredulously, tilting his head as he looks down at the creature in his arms.

"Like what?"

Arum opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again quickly.

Compelling, he had nearly hissed. Enthralling. Fascinating and clever and warm and draped with a deceptive air of comfort, despite the fact that Arum knows that an ounce more of carelessness with either of these creatures would spell certain death.

She stares at him as he flounders. He snaps his teeth together again reflexively, then grasps for other words.

"Humans of the Northern Wilds have a reputation for- for a lack of hospitality. You and your basilisk have quite decidedly failed to live up to that reputation."

She looks delighted by this claim, her hands flexing against him in a way Arum attempts to ignore. "Hm, well, I can't say that reputation isn't absolutely well earned," she says, almost viciously. "Honestly I'm kind of surprised that you managed to get through to Damien, he can be a little intense at first."

Arum laughs again. "Intense," he echoes. "Yes… well, he was certainly that, though I do not think he was inhospitable." He pauses again, and he remembers the calmness of Damien's eyes, even over his raised bow, and the delicacy of the smile he gave when he lowered it at last, and let Arum take his hands again. "Despite the fact that, perhaps, I deserved a degree of inhospitality."

She laughs brightly, and Arum's mouth curls into an unbidden smile beneath his mask, and then she shakes her head and her hands upon him squeeze very slightly. A little warning, he realizes, before she shifts her footing and their trajectory, and then she begins to back away with him, leading him off of the balcony and back towards the rest of the party inside. "C'mon, stranger," she says warmly. "One more dance, and then you'll be free to escape all this ballroom drama. Saints know I wish I could join you- this is all a bit too formal for me to sink my teeth into."

"It has been… less tedious than I anticipated," Arum admits, rather than considering what this creature would prefer to do with her teeth.

"Yeah," she says, playful again, "it seems like you've managed to enjoy yourself, huh?"

Arum huffs, but he bites down on his retort so he may instead focus on maintaining his steps now that he needs to worry about other surrounding humans again. The ballroom is so much warmer than the balcony air, though his phoenix is hotter still in his arms, and the combination of heat seems to blur his vision at the edges.

"If you thought it was gonna be so awful," she says, "why come? If you were worried about our reputation around here, you must come from pretty far off."

"I-" Arum hesitates, considers his possible lies, but the sharpness of her eyes upon him makes him suspect he will have better odds with the truth. Or- part of it, at the very least. "A rather frustrating obligation," he settles on, after a moment. "A job in the city I must complete before I may return home and care for my-" he cuts himself off, digging for a way to explain that a human would understand. "To care for my family, as I am meant to."

"Attending the masquerade is part of your job?" she asks, her eyebrow raising, and Arum sighs because the absurdity of the situation is very much not lost on him.

"Unfortunately, yes. Or-" he pauses, then breathes a light, dizzy laugh as he and the little human spin in a tight circle. "Perhaps… perhaps the obligation has proven itself to be not entirely unfortunate."

She smiles again, and Arum's stomach jumps with a sensation like both pleasure and panic. He swallows uncomfortably, and when she moves with pointed confidence he acquiesces, spinning her out and then pulling her back against his chest.

They are already near to the other side of the ballroom again, the crowd thinning around them as they approach the exit, but Arum still feels as if he is sinking into the warmth of the air, the warmth of his thick cape and those confident hands-

Her hands- not only are they so shockingly warm upon him, but they will not stay still. He is distracted, trying to keep his mind on his steps while her touch and her sly smirk pull his attention elsewhere, and he does not realize quite quickly enough where she is touching until he feels her fingers, curling around the back of his neck. Her touch runs down his spine, brushing the bony ridge at the base of his neck, and he can’t quite suppress the way that makes him shiver and hiss.

Her lips part, her eyebrow raising again as her head tilts in a thoughtful sort of way, and Arum’s feet stumble to a halt.

They both attempt the first syllables of words at the same time, then, hers a baffled question and his a sharp deflection, but they are both interrupted.

"Rilla!"

The little phoenix turns, just slightly, not pulling away from Arum's grasp upon her. She's smiling again, even, as she watches Sir Damien half-leap down the stairs from near the Queen's dais, bolting through the crowd towards the exit, towards them.

"Hm," she says, her eyes sparking with distinct amusement as Arum attempts (and fails) not to feel panic welling again, without the lance of strange pleasure this time. "I didn't think he'd actually get jealous, not after we-"

"Unhand my Amaryllis- unhand my fiancée, villain!"

Arum would do precisely as Sir Damien commands, if his limbs did not feel as immobile as a copse of dead trees. Damien's clarion-call voice draws the attention of nearly the entire ballroom, citizen and soldier alike. It looks, from Arum's horrified vantage, as if every single human face, however disguised, now turns towards Arum and his current partner, who is evidently named Amaryllis. Even the music has slackened, the instruments pattering off into pathetic whining before they cease entirely.

Arum's thoughts wind down in a similar fashion, to a blank nothing that almost screams.

It seems our time has run out before our dance is finished, he thinks again as Damien swims through the stilled dancers, an echo of a lament. Amaryllis pulls slightly towards Damien as he draws close. She pulls against Arum's stiff arms, and he-

There is a moment. He considers the possibility.

He is well within leaping distance to the doors, to the exit, and there is little chance the knight would aim his bow at his own partner, if Arum simply- grabbed her and did not let go when he leapt.

But Amaryllis glances back towards him when she feels how wooden his grip has gone, glancing up at his face with- sympathy of all things as she squeezes one of his hands, and Arum feels like a monster, in the most human of possible senses. He feels like a beast for even considering it.

He forces his grip on the little phoenix to slacken, and he takes a half step back.

Amaryllis gives him one last look of confusion and concern before she slips entirely out of his grasp, moving to place herself between Arum and the knight, her hands raised, placating.

"It was just a dance, Damien, I didn't think that you'd-"

"You," Damien hisses, not pushing past Amaryllis but certainly not hearing her as he glares at Arum. "You-" he snarls, and his hands twitch against his bow, the muscles of his arms tensing, and Arum-

Arum stares at the knight, stands perfectly still, completely stiff, and he is utterly certain that he is about to die.

"I asked him to dance, Damien, not the other way around. Just-"

"With this beast," Damien snarls, and Arum's heart clenches almost painfully, although the citizenry staring at the three of them do not seem to recognize Damien's words as only honest, rather than hyperbolic.

Arum could still attempt to leap, to escape, but without a hostage he is far less certain that he will not be shot in the spine. If he is going to die, he would rather face it directly. He would rather see the arrow as it comes.

Damien clenches his teeth, his tawny eyes gone ferocious and sharp, and it is only Amaryllis' hands upon his wrists that prevent him from lifting the bow in that precise moment.

"How dare you?" Damien's hands shake under Amaryllis' palms. "After- after I- monster-"

"Honeysuckle-"

Damien blanches at the word, at Arum's voice, so very quiet beneath the din of concerned murmurs at the knight's back. Damien hesitates, only for a moment, the fury in his eyes softened with confusion, and Arum forces himself to continue.

"I-" Arum pauses, inhales sharply, tries again. "I was enjoying… playing the monster too much, I think." He pauses again, inhales more slowly, ignores the tightness in his throat. "F-forgive me."

Arum drops his eyes, then, but no arrow comes and the pause draws long enough to be worrying in and of itself. Arum hazards a glance up at Sir Damien again, and he-

The conflict is so clear upon him as to be nearly palpable. Arum thinks that perhaps he would be able to taste it, if the copper of his mask were not stifling his tongue.

Damien still grips his bow in one hand, but the other he lifts, his fingers brushing almost absently over his own lips before he seems to realize what he is doing, and then he presses his palm over his mouth entirely. Amaryllis frowns hard when Damien glances towards her, and then when the poet shoots another look towards Arum, the monster only stands, and waits, and does not allow himself to hope.

"You-" Damien cuts himself off, clenching his jaw hard, his brow furrowing in obvious distress, and then Arum can see the precise moment the poet decides his course of action. The wild determination that bleeds across his features is precisely as blatant as his former conflict. "You have slighted me this night, my fellow beast," Damien says, and his voice is loud and clear again, though Arum can clearly make out the falsity overlaying it now. Amaryllis can quite obviously sense his performance, too, and the bafflement in her expression makes for a good companion to Arum's own stunned shock. "My Rilla's honor must be defended!"

Arum blinks, and the murmurs behind the knight take on a tittering, conspiratorial quality. "A-ah-"

"I demand you duel me!"

"Damien," Amaryllis attempts to interrupt, her tone entirely incredulous, but Damien grips her wrist and shakes his head sharply.

"For my Rilla's honor!"

Damien's tone is insistent, his expression pointed and firm, his eyes framed between the fangs of his mask and still so… compelling. He is prompting, and Arum must push past his shock if he wants to- to take the hand that Sir Damien is offering.

"If- if that is what must be done to put this conflict to rights… so be it."

"It is," Damien snarls. "Obviously, we must- discuss the terms of this duel privately. Let us take the matter outside," he says, his voice managing to be both pointed and toneless, and then nearly as an afterthought he adds, "you cur," and it is all that Arum can do to bury his urge to snort a laugh.

The fact that he feels near-hysterical with the sheer absurdity of this entire evening certainly does not help with that urge, either.

Arum pauses as if considering, flicks his tongue without meaning to beneath his mask (the scent of copper stuffs his snout), and then he nods. "If you… insist."

"I do," Damien says with clear relish, and then he gestures towards the door. "Outside. Now."

Arum stares at Sir Damien for another wondering moment as his frown deepens, as his eyes widen and his gesturing hand flutters in the air again, and then Arum nods, and turns, and retreats, with his basilisk and his phoenix following in his wake.

#OFF! THE! RAILS!!!#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #sir damien #even with missteps

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wellesleyunderground · 3 years

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Wellesley Underground Interview with Founders (Sara Hess ‘08 and Shavanna Calder ‘08) of Feminist Fashion & Beauty Magazine, MUJER!

Need a break from the politics? Dive into the making of Issue No.2 of MUJER! Magazine. Interview by Camylle Fleming ‘14.

1. Wellesley Underground (WU): Tell us about the origin of MUJER! Magazine and bring us up to speed on the November launch.

Sara Hess ‘08, Editor in Chief: MUJER! has been a long time coming for us. Ever since Shavanna and I were swapping clothes from each other’s closets when we were roommates at Wellesley, we’ve had an interest in fashion and over the years we’d often played around with the idea of doing a fashion related project together. MUJER! came about in late 2017 when I had reached a point of being really frustrated with fashion magazines (all of the ads and the Photoshop, the lack of any real content and focus on hyper consumption). I also was disappointed to see that several of the fashion bloggers I’d followed over the years and enjoyed for their authenticity were following the same route as they transitioned from blogs to Instagram and started posting highly stylized Photoshopped pics that were all sponsored and very phony. Finally, I had recently turned 30 and it then occurred to me that I was older than nearly all the models I saw in the major fashion publications, which is insane when you think about it. I told Shavanna what I was thinking of doing-- a feminist fashion and beauty mag, all models 25+, no Photoshop on their faces or bodies, more racial and ethnic diversity, a focus on more sustainable production and consumption and no ads. Shavanna is an amazing stylist and has a great eye for design so I was super excited when she agreed to be creative director. I was living between Mexico City and New York at the time. I had developed some contacts in the fashion industry in Mexico and really admired the fashion scene there, which is one of the reasons we went with the name MUJER! It took us about 6-7 months to produce the content for the first print edition which was published in September 2018.

2.WU: How did fashion and beauty become sites of contestation and rebellion for you two?

Sara: I grew up in a small town in rural Pennsylvania and was constantly getting in trouble for breaking the dress code at my public school. It’s ironic because I was definitely a major nerd-- not your typical rebel. In junior high, I was really upset to find out I had not been accepted to the National Junior Honor Society. I asked one of my teachers why and he told me that it was because the shorts that I wore to school were often too short. Honestly, it was not my intention to be risque. I was just awkwardly going through puberty and had legs that were too long for my body and it was impossible to find shorts that were long enough and didn’t look dorky. After that, I went through a punk rocker phase, where again clothing is a form of rebellion. I was totally into the early Gwen Stefani punk looks. I would get picked on a lot by classmates but then a few months later everyone would be wearing what I had been wearing before, which would be my cue to change styles because I never wanted to look like everyone else. For me, it became a way to stand out and to push back against conservative influences.

Shavanna Calder ‘08, Creative Director: I can’t say that I’ve thought of fashion for most of my life as a site of rebellion. I just wore what I liked and (especially as a kid) what was on trend.

I had hip surgery 5 years ago and have struggled to be able to wear heels after that. In some ways that forced me to rethink how to dress for formal situations (without heels). Though I am working towards wearing heels again through physical therapy (my profession requires it), I’ve found a certain level of pride in showing other women that we can still look dressed up/professional etc. without wearing heels. Also embracing flatforms has been fun!

I think beauty, more so, has always been a site of contestation and rebellion for me as a Black woman. Growing up and having hair that was different than most of my friends. Makeup and hair supplies that we had to drive an extra distance for. Reading different magazines than my friends because teen vogue (at that time), seventeen etc never catered to me (thank God for Essence). Now, being natural, my hair oftentimes is a point of rebellion/contestation as I educate and ask for the things that I need as a Black artist instead of accepting the burden of sitting in silence.

Founders Shavanna + Sara (above)

3. WU: On social media, you’ve discussed the initiative of “showing women as they actually exist in the world”. Can you describe some of the images you two grew up with and how they are in conversation with MUJER!

Shavanna: In some ways growing up when I did, I feel like I did get to see images of women (more often) without photoshop and a ton of contouring etc because that just wasn’t on trend. It’s one thing I miss about the early 2000’s. That being said, the rest of the content oftentimes centered around ways to get men, look flirty etc etc. For us I think “showing women as they actually exist in the world” goes beyond imaging to the content of the magazine (the stories and issues that are discussed) as well as the lack of harmful ads encouraging women to alter their bodies by buying certain products etc. We are able to highlight a diverse group of female identifying folx and the complexity of us instead of the monolith that I often see portrayed.

4. WU: What are the ways in which your Mexico City base contributes to the core principles of MUJER!

Sara: Mexico City is just my heart and soul. I don’t know how else to describe it. It makes me turn to mush as though I’m talking about someone I’m in love with. The creative and design scene here is out of this world funky and unique and I really feel that I can wear anything going out here at night. People are elegant and cool and put a great deal of thought into how they present themselves. The fashion scene is authentic and fun and nowhere near as pretentious as it is in other parts of the world. We try to reflect this creativity and sincerity in MUJER! as well.

Shavanna: Additionally I’ll say that people have really embraced us there. There is an openness, flexibility and sense of collaboration that has made it super easy to throw any ideas we have out there and run with it (more than I’ve seen in other parts of the world).

5. WU: For those of us who are new to publication production, can you walk us through the steps of creating content, finding models, artwork, all without the filler of advertisements?

Sara: We are also new to magazine production, ha! We started by basically bringing together people we knew from the fashion world here in Mexico City. I have a dear friend, Jenny. She’s a stylist from Sweden and was working on the sets of reality shows here so she kind of kicked me into gear to do the first beauty shoot. She had a lot of experience doing shoots so she helped me get a great photographer and scout a location and models. We’ve really been blessed with meeting all of the right people at the right moment. We found a wonderful lead graphic designer, Celina Arrazola who happened to know the neighborhood where all the printers are and was an expert in hand binding books. Advertisements were never an option so we self-finance the production, which was and is intense.

Shavanna: Yes, as Sara mentioned we’re incredibly new to this and are (honestly) still figuring a lot out as we go. However, generally we come up with ideas/stories together that excite us, that we haven’t seen in other fashion magazines. We then reach out to female identifying folx to help us realize these ideas (because we want to support female entrepreneurs as well). The hardest part will be figuring out how to make it sustainable (and take the more of the financial burden off of Sara) and we’re in the process of sorting that out the best way we can!

5a. WU: Okay, same question. Add COVID, go:

Sara: Now, because of COVID, our plans to do another print edition were derailed so we decided to do a digital edition-- everyone featured sent in their own photos and instead of printing we created a PDF version of the magazine, with Celina’s excellent graphic design of course.

It essentially made printing the way we did with the first edition impossible. That was a very manual process that involved visiting the printer in person multiple times and Celina handbound the magazine, with me struggling to be useful to her by folding the pages. This time we went all digital.

Shavanna: In addition we had to become creative since we could no longer conduct shoots or interviews in person. Everything was done via email (except for Sultana’s shoot which happened pre-COVID). All other photos were submitted by the women in the issue. Whilst I missed many aspects of being in person, in some ways the challenge allowed us to lean in to our mission of showing women as we truly are. It also allowed for us to have a remote intern via Wellesley which was awesome!

6. WU: How do you want to grapple with the plurality of feminism(s) in the pages of the magazine?

Shavanna: By being truly intentional about seeking out diverse voices. By celebrating those voices and by taking our readers feedback to heart. Outside of the folx who are interviewed or featured in our magazine we attempt to employ women in the creation of the physical product as well (design, photography etc). The end result is something that has been touched by women from various parts of the world and from different walks of life.

7. WU: Can you share the story of how the magazine gained its title? How do you respond to any pushback and claims of appropriation from Latinx individuals for your usage of the word “Mujer”?

Sara: For starters, we were founded in Mexico City and at least half of our readers are native Spanish speakers. The publication, like many of its readers, is also bilingual. For the interviews and articles that are originally done in Spanish, we leave them in Spanish, only translating key quotes into English and vice versa for pieces that are originally in English. The title is also a global call to women that goes beyond the English-language paradigm.

8.WU: The fashion and beauty industry can carry both an air of superficiality and apoliticism. Tell us what people get wrong about the experience of working within it.

Sara: I think this is hard for us to get into because we are not really working in the fashion and beauty industry-- we are working parallel to it and trying to pick the piece we enjoy while also creating something new and different for women that makes them feel empowered, not inadequate.

Shavanna: Yes neither Sara nor I really work within the industry (nor have we prior to the magazine). I’ve worked as a stylist from time to time, but that’s about it. For the most part we’ve been consumers who were unhappy with what we were consuming and figured we could do something about it.

9. WU: In an effort to not over-glorify the value of success and “making it”, let’s talk about failure. Can you share with our readers what went wrong in the process of producing MUJER!?

Sara: Before our Chilanga shoot, Shavanna and I got horrible food poisoning. Like, nearly had to go to the hospital.

Shavanna: Yes we were living on pepto bismol and had just started eating plain bread and pasta the day of our shoot, but we powered through! Honestly this magazine has felt like a contribution to society that we were meant to be a part of, so despite obstacles that have come up, we know that we can’t be sidetracked.

10. WU: How do you react to the “self-care” trend and it’s correlation to the consumption of beauty products? Relatedly, how do you two take care of yourselves?

Sara: I’m an introvert who fakes being an extrovert, but I definitely know I need alone time so I try to make space for that. As of late, I try to use more natural/ organic beauty products and just less of everything period. Also sleep. Sleep is so important. Finally, I’ve decided I will deal with drama in my professional life because I feel like that’s where I’m making a contribution that’s important but I try to minimize drama in my personal life as much as possible.

Shavanna: I try to take care of myself by reminding myself that rest is ok and necessary (so hard). Practicing my faith/meditation. Asking for what I need. Going to therapy (physical and mental health). Exercising. Connecting with loved ones (friends and family). Being kind to myself.

11. WU: As a follower of your Insta page, I find myself lingering on your original posts, staring into the faces of the individuals you capture. It makes me realize how my brain has been trained to see the same faces featured in public spaces, so much so that they’ve become invisible. Can you share the favorite photos that you’ve captured and why they stand out to you?

Shavanna: My favorite photos are of Wellesley alumna Solonje Burnett. I’ve always admired Solonje’s fearlessness and creativity and I think we truly captured her essence in these. Though she is beautiful, the interview is about so much more and highlights her as the complex, multifaceted woman that she is (instead of just her beauty routine or what her house looks like).

12. WU: What does the day in the life of an Editor-in-Chief look like? How about a Creative Director?

Shavanna: We’re very collaborative. I don’t think we really have hard and fast rules as to who does what necessarily as much as it’s a partnership. One of us will propose an idea (in between juggling the rest of our lives) and we’ll discuss pros and cons and greenlight what works best and aligns with our values. We also just hold each other accountable. Right now there isn’t a typical day in the life as well just because we both have other jobs (though it would be amazing for Mujer! to continue to take off in a way that allowed us to devote more time to it).

13. WU: Both of you currently have worked with higher education institutions (Harvard + NYU). Can you tell us a bit about your “day jobs” and the types of opportunities they have afforded you in relation to the Magazine?

Sara: While I was working at HBS, I co-authored a case study on Monocle magazine which has helped to inform some of our thinking around the business model for MUJER!

Shavanna: I worked for almost 7 years at NYU, first at Stern and then within the Faculty of Arts & Science. In terms of opportunities? I’d say actually, for me, anyway the two aren’t related. My time at NYU influenced my acting career more so than Mujer! by giving me some flexibility and certainly financial stability.

14. WU: Lastly - a question you ask your features in the upcoming digital issue: how have you been gentle with yourself during this time?

Sara: Uff, I have been eating a lot of ice cream and taking breaks when I need to. I turned off the New York Times news alerts on my phone. I still read the news everyday but this has helped a lot.

Shavanna: Uff indeed. Hm sometimes I remind myself that the fact that I’m functioning is enough. This quote from Audre Lorde has been getting me through: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”

Working out and going for walks, journaling, therapy, being in touch with my spirituality, limiting myself on social media (or at least certain groups or accounts), listening to my body in terms of what it wants (whether that be food or change of environment). Talking to friends when I have the energy always brightens my day and constantly reminding myself to take things one moment/day at a time. This is all incredibly hard and I’m grateful to those who have been gentle with me when I struggle to be gentle with myself.

Check out the MUJER! Covid-19 digital issue here: https://www.mujerrev.com/mujer-sale Given the increase in domestic violence and gender based violence around the world during the pandemic, a portion of the proceeds from the issue will go to two organizations helping womxn that are survivors of domestic abuse and human trafficking: Women of Color Network - Blue Lips Campaign and El Pozo de Vida.

MUJER! Homepage: https://www.mujerrev.com/ MUJER! Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mujerrev/

#wellesleyunderground #wellesley college #mujermagazine #fashion #beauty

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justablobfish · 3 years

Text

Hot tea and cozy sweaters

Day 6 of my Advent Calender. A new drabble or oneshot everyday until Christmas, following the Continent’s favourite found family and what they’re up to in the winter season. Based on this prompt list

Read on AO3

Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

______

Yennefer rushes through the opulent hallways of Oxenfurt Academy, ignoring the horny but frightened glances some of the older students throw at her. She doesn't have time for such shenanigans. There are more important things to do.

She stops by the familiar door in the professors' quarters and knocks heavily, barely able to contain her excitement. Not that she would ever show that on the outside, of course. To the untrained eye, she appears perfectly calm. And yet, she has been looking forward to this little tradition of theirs for ages.

The door opens immediately and Jaskier greets her, his own excitement very visible in the way he bounces back and forth on his heels and barely manages to stand still.

"Yennefer! You made it!" he beams. "Come in!"

"I wouldn't miss our little tradition for anything in the world," she returns with a bright grin of her own, her protective walls crumbling down in the presence of her beloved. "The one I got you is extremely beautiful. You'll weep when you see it."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, dear,"Jaskier chides as he picks up a beautifully wrapped parcel from a nearby table. "The one I got you is excellent as well."

Yennefer pulls her own present out of her bags and with a flourished bow from Jaskier and a curtly nod from herself, they exchange the parcels.

Yennefer rips open her gift without much care and holds this year's ugly sweater up to her chest.

Attached to the thick, bright red chest part is a wreath made from evergreen twigs. Tiny brass bells hang from it. Woven into the pattern of the knitwear are images of candles that appear to be rising from the wreath. When Yennefer hovers her hand over the tip of the candles, they start humming with faint magic and glow brightly.

"Oh Jaskier, it's hideous," she sighs. "I love it. Open yours!"

Jaskier unwraps his parcel and inspects the sweater Yennefer had gotten for him. The front of the green sweater shows a stylized picture of a man. It's head is cut off and the image ends just underneath the neckline, so that the sweater makes it appear like the wearer's head is also the head of the depicted man. The outfit the picture dons is very familiar to Jaskier. It's the same kind of outfit his nemesis Valdo Marx tends to wear when he participates in bardic competitions.

"Once again, you've outdone yourself, my dear," he muses. Let's get changed and have some tea?"

"Of course," Yennefer replies. "There's the second part of the tradition, after all."

A short while later they are sitting at Jaskier’s tea table, donned in their respective sweaters and sipping tea.

"You start," Yennefer orders with as much authority as she can muster in this outfit. "What stupid things did Geralt do this year?"

"Oh boy, where do I start," Jaskier teases as he rubs his fingers together in excitement. "There was that one time when he visited me in Oxenfurt during the summer break. I decided I'd prepare a romantic dinner for us. Cooked it all myself and even bought the extra long spaghetti noodles, just to be fancy, ya know?"

"Oh I dread where this is going," Yennefer throws in. "What happened then?"

"Well he was all awkward during dinner," Jaskier muses. "Kept shuffling around in his seat and glaring daggers at his plate like the noodles had personally offended him. But you know how he is when there's a problem. Wouldn't say something even if it killed him. I watched him squirm for, I kid you not, ten full minutes until I eventually asked what was wrong."

"I hope he didn't have a problem with your cooking?" Yennefer asks. "I don't know how you do it, but your meals are always exquisite!"

"No, none of that," Jaskier reassures. "He looked up at me with big eyes and sheepishly admitted that he prefers to cut his spaghetti short with a knife. Like, who does that? He simply had no idea how to eat them with a spoon or fork!"

"Oh that's brilliant!" Yennefer snickers. "I can definitely imagine him sitting there, not wanting to say anything but not able to eat his dinner, either! But I also have a story in terms of awkward dates: You already know that for my birthday this year Geralt got me a bunch of buttercups he picked from the side of the road. But did I ever tell you what else happened that day?"

"I'm almost scared to ask," Jaskier admits with a wide grin. "Though I guess I should be glad Geralt screwed up or else you would have been pissed at me for not being able to make it to your birthday this year."

"Well, admittedly, I was rather sad about that," Yennefer agrees. "Which is why Geralt promised that after the party Triss insisted on throwing me, he would be waiting for me at the place I stayed then and that we could do whatever I wanted in the bedroom."

"Now that's an offer up your alley," Jaskier points out. "Especially coming from Geralt. And that didn't sway you to forgive the buttercup incident?"

"It would have," Yennefer sighs. "But that's not the end of the story. Well, I got changed before leaving the party, so I came home wearing nothing but a coat and this really nice set of lingerie that I specifically bought myself for my birthday and paid a pretty penny for and what do I find once I make my way to the bedroom?"

"I have no idea, but I fear the worst!" Jaskier giggles.

"So there I was," Yennefer continues, "leaning in the doorframe like your most exquisite fantasy come true and what do I find once I flicked on a candle? Geralt, sprawled out in the middle of the bed, snoring softly. He was vast asleep, out like a candle in a storm!"

"Oh no!" Jaskier gasps before they both burst out into laughter.

"Well, Geralt rode all the way from Oxenfurt in only a fortnight!" he adds once they've gotten themselves under control again. "It's only understandable that he was tired. I hope you didn't tell him to his face that he snored, though. I tried that before, but he denies everything!"

"Don't I know it," Yennefer sighs. "I thought cursing him with a cold would be a good punishment for everything, but the snoring only got worse!"

"I'm sure it wasn't as bad as last month, when we took that contract in Hommeln, though," Jaskier protests. "We could convince the fairies that plagued the town to behave, but Geralt managed to breathe in some fairy dust. When we camped in the woods that night, I didn't get a single moment of shut-eye. But that wasn't all! In the early morning a man suddenly stumbled into our camp and screamed bloody murder! It took a while to calm him down, but in the end it turned out he was from the local lumberjack guild and thought we were felling trees in his forest. And do you know what Geralt said about the snoring once we managed to placate the poor man?"

"He blamed it on you?" Yennefer guesses, grinning widely.

"He blamed it on me!" Jaskier repeats and throws his hands in the air, exasperated.

They look at each other for a moment and then burst out in laughter. Yennefer enjoys the rare sensation of being allowed to let loose.

"Sometimes I wonder if Geralt is doing the same thing up in Kaer Morhen," Jaskier wonders after a while, still slightly out of breath. "Does he tell his brothers embarrassing stories about the two of us?"

"Impossible!" Yennefer exclaims. The tiny bells on her sweater jingle slightly as she leans forward conspiratorially. "We never do anything embarrassing!"

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #geralt/yennefer/jaskier #yennefer/jaskier #polyamory #theblobfishwrites

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fallingin-like · 4 years

Text

november 1

atlas by @purearcticfire / @pipedream-truths

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

a magic au that features shapeshifters and a cursed neil, so immediately you know i’ll like it. this fic has some cool uses of italics, caps, spacing, etc. that creates a stylized story that helps build tone and gives the story a clearer voice. this was such a fun read and it gets very intense. this fic is incomplete.

[also! this review is formatted differently than all the rest, my apologies if it’s a bit harder to read]

okay so i really can’t review this fic without talking about the petty races. the rookie’s foot race is just so perfect for neil, of course he’d be obsessed with them. i think it was also an amazing introduction to this universe, and how different people can use their powers in different ways, the existence of potions, half transformations, what the transformations look like for different people. it’s such a fascinating was to learn and see how neil uses all these things in his strategy to win. we see that pegasi exist?? i’m so interested in learning all the intricacies of the creatures and magic in this universe. i really like shapeshifter!au’s, probably because i really want to be able to shapeshift.

i love reading about neil during these foot races, i feel so invested in his success, i’m excited when i see that he’s about to win, and heartbroken when he doesn’t. you are so good at conveying his experience during that second race. the way you write when neil is disoriented confuses me too, i’m lost in the orange and memories, and then of course, the curse. one of my favourite parts of this fic is the repetition of ‘blood of years, blood of tears, blood of fears’ etc. ugh it’s just so good, gives me chills. the curse causing his old wounds to reopen, the black blood to seep everywhere, the loss of movement in some of his limbs, it’s all so ominous and mysterious. i also like the way that you combine canon events with your fic, how neil meets hernandez and how that introduces him to the foxes. it’s so fluid and natural. the hatford grimoire is really cool too and i love that nobody else will be able to read it. makes me worry less for future neil’s privacy haha

the concept of being inside neil’s magic is so unique, seeing the bonds that he shares, how he mourns the bond with his mother. one of the things that has stuck with me the most about this whole fic is the forest that is introduced, with all of his bonds to the animals he can shift into, wow. i’ll get into this more when i get to that part of the fic.

although this fic is, for the most part serious, i admire your ability to lighten the tone. it makes it seem more realistic. the easy camaraderie between hernandez and neil like when he says ‘if i ever need a team of getaway drivers, i’ll know who to call first.’ and of course we get a glimpse of Neil Bad Ideas Josten when he says ‘he could just… run another race’

i really enjoy reading from andrew’s perspective, so it’s great that this fic does a mix of both neil and andrew povs. wymack having fire powers that correspond to his tattoos? oh yeah. the scene where kevin is first introduced is so well written, detailed but still able to convey the panic and quick decisions being made. and of course, neil’s race. it feels so typically neil to enter the race and actually win it, almost without the use of magic. and the consequences of the magic he does do is scares me everytime. i can imagine the black blood so vividly, imagine neil stubbornly not accepting the temporary paralysis of his legs. i can’t help but think, he must be so scared under all of that. the unknown of this curse, being trapped with unfamiliar people, the loss of his mother.

andrew and renee’s relationship is always an interesting one. i liked the way you used it, to introduce the characters and also establish the tone of these foxes. i thought it was super cute that the two of them ended up building tiny matchstick houses (and also it makes me really want to build a tiny matchstick house). it seems like such an andrew tactic to use horse tranquilizer. like boy, you’re wondering why neil has built up immunity to horse tranquilizer (which is fair and also hilarious),and i’m over here wondering why you guys are carrying around horse tranquilizer in the first place.

the concept of wymack’s key is really cool to me, it helps demonstrate what magic is capable of in this universe and also who wymack is. it being a sigil that can be transferred to any vessel? ahh i love it, and you know that this will be important later in the story. there’s so much anticipation to hear that neil is going to run for the foxes, i feel like that’s kind of a given, but it doesn’t make it any less exciting to see what’s in store for the team and what different events are offered at these competitions. i like the way you describe the shadows and that they’re alive and should be respected. also what in the world the annex is so cool, i am always interested in hearing about buildings with magical space that expands/contracts. is the building sentient? or do people have to use magic to expand it? neil’s thoughts in this annex are such a great addition to this chapter. ‘but this shop the annex-it’s a place to rest. that knowledge was a knife scraping against his ribs. his heartstrings tangled in a knot of want and need and he had no idea how much he would lose if he snipped it clean. when he cut and run… he should be scared of what lies behind that secret door. instead he paces in the back room, scared he won’t ever get to see it again.’ i love that imagery about the knife, i know how that feels. to do the thing that you know is self destructive because you want so bad. and in the midst of his inner turmoil, we have andrew, who breaks neil free of this.

have you ever read ‘the rithmatist’ by brandon sanderson? it’s a really interesting book (i think it’s a series but i only read the first one) and the arimathean circle and every mention of runes reminds me of it. and we meet kevin! this first interaction between them is the best.

k-you still can’t do magic?

n-want to find out

k-andrew i thought you didnt break the curse

a-i didn’t

k-so you can’t do magic

n-fight me

I LOVE THIS. also: rosemary (love how it is repeated throughout the fic. it was something i really remembered and enjoyed. does that work irl too? bc goodness knows i need help w/ fatigue) and of course, ‘i’m training with kevin’, ‘for how long?’, ‘neil blanks his face. “til i’m the best”’ haha these boys. and then neil just goes and injures himself as much as possible in the arena. an homage to him blowing out his arms trying to score against andrew? or just neil being himself and not understanding that sometimes you need to stop.

renee being a bloodbender?? so perfect. it also reminds me of gluupor’s fic “no mourners, no funerals” where she was a heartrender. these powers fit renee so well, with the ability to do so much bad and so much good. ‘one more thing. are your parents still alive?’ i’ve read this fic twice now (on my third time) and each time this makes me start to sweat. because at this point we don’t really know what’s going on with nathan?? is he actually dead or has he convinced himself that he is dead and is secretly alive. i like the way that you had andrew dig through neil’s stuff while he was sleeping. sometimes i can find the way the author is writing their fic makes it hard for me to believe that he would leave his duffel alone. andrew being one-upped by neil’s gun? totally unexpected but it’s one of the only believable ways that this version of andrew would leave neil alone i think. this scar reveal was really good too, it adds suspense to the curse and i just really like when neil shows his scars off i guess.

columbia time! sometimes i can forget that neil doesn’t know the rest of the foxes and i really like his reaction to meeting aaron. he’s immediately concerned and i’m immediately interested in the existence of a face changer. faeries!! i really like that eden’s is faerie land, where it’s always twilight and it’s the perfect setting for the Interrogation that we all know is to come. also what in the world andrew and aaron just make a truth serum in like 0.2 seconds?? wild times. and, of course, neil shifts into a cat, both to escape this situation and to be dramatic. i am wondering though, why has he avoided shifting up until this point? is it because they think this may cause the curse to get worse? oh dang wait is it because the rest of the foxes don’t know he’s a shifter yet? also what’s with the time between aaron and andrew? what do they do during this time?

great scene with wymack and andrew. they have such a unique relationship, wymack is likely the first adult that andrew has trusted. and he’s trusted him with a lot. wymack has given andrew a place to be, a team to compete with, a job, and a family. the two of them are both just trying to keep the people they love safe and i think that’s part of why they understand each other.

wow something i love in general, not just in fics or as part of this fandom, is capable characters. it gets me so excited to hear how skilled neil is in his shifting. when we are in his perspective, it’s such an ordinary thing for him, he just shifts and that’s it. for andrew to say that neil’s shifting is like artistry? i’m so far gone right now.

THIS NEXT PART IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE PARTS!! first, love the idea of astral projections, it’s such a smart way to do this. but the best best part of this scene is when neil gets his chance to yell at kevin. i can’t imagine how much fun this must have been to write. and then we have neil, paying the price for using his magic to help kevin. i can’t read fast enough as andrew tries to find a way to get through the circle before neil drowns in his blood. are you kidding me, following such a lighthearted scene by breaking my heart. this is the definition of hurt/comfort, i think. we have the boys playing around, then almost losing neil, and we get to experience neil’s magic greeting andrew. ‘hello rock, for it knows him as the rock the curse breaks against.’ what a beautiful sentence. and andrew, leaving himself vulnerable to the world, does his best to help neil. ‘just andrew, breaking curses and breaking himself in the process.’ ahh you have such a way with words. it seems so simple. it’s so easy to read and it seems like it was so easy to write. like the words just flowed out of you and to me. all the imagery of the grove of neil’s magic is so wonderful, the wisps and bonds, and rock. it’s so interesting seeing this other side of the curse’s destruction. we learn more about andrew too, about his connection to curses, ‘maybe a curse isn’t so different from me, the world determined to break the both of us.’ oh my goodness andrew. also! i always forget that neil has his true appearance hidden!! bless the reveal of how he’s somehow even more attractive than we thought before. ‘neil rolls his eyes so hard he topples over’ i have this sentence bookmarked (i have the fic downloaded so i can read it offline) because i love this so much haha.

okay so i knew that andrew had no magic because i’ve read this fic before, but the first time i did i was blown away! wymack’s fire whiskey is so cool! i’d be so interested in hearing if other people can do that with their powers. can andrew drink whiskey with renee’s magic and be able to do blood magic?

this chapter has race day! i think one of the best things that you do with this fic is how well you explain the universe. you describe the magic without just telling us what it’s like, just letting readers experience it for themselves and learn new things as the story progresses. you don’t do this when explaining the relay. (and that’s a good thing) you are clear on how the rules work, on what the objectives of each team, and position is, who will be doing what, and how the game is won. by getting this out of the way, it allows the readers to really focus on what’s actually happening, and not trying to understand what everyone is doing. i am easily confused, but the relay was so clear that i didn’t have any trouble understanding. at the same time, you did it in a way that wasn’t boring. i’m so glad, because the relay was so entertaining. i was so invested, what an intense game, especially with so many players that are simultaneously doing different tasks. it’s different from exy, where the main focus is on where the ball is. you did a really great job with this part!!

renee and andrew’s text conversation was really cute~ and then you go and destroy me with the andrew/lola confrontation. hhhh i can’t describe how i felt reading this section of this chapter other than just asldjflaskd. bless andrew for his arimathean circle, i’m glad someone around here is using their brain because whAT IN THE WORLD NEIL YOU JUST GO WITH RIKO AND TURN INTO A RAVEN AND THEN USE YOUR MAGIC AND PASS OUT. everything is so wild and so crazy and then to end the chapter you have something funny??? i don’t understand how you can be so good at writing to do this?? i just absolutely adore neil’s texts. something about the lowercase, the lack of punctuation, and just his nonchalance about the whole situation. i really cannot believe that you were able to tie up this crazy amazing chapter so perfectly.

the beginning of the final chapter dives right in immediately. i always like when fics have neil having nightmares while in the car, of course he does. it seems likely to me that he associates falling asleep in the car with his time on the run, and his body can’t help but fall back into the panic mode that it must have been stuck in for years. and yet now, andrew being hurt is one of his biggest fears, it shows the evolution of the relationship with him. and ugh i love the end of this scene, andrew’s fear is shown, even if you never directly describe it.

this next part is a shifting point in the fic too, when we see how strong the bond between andrew and neil is, when they share what has happened to them, when we learn that when neil shifts it stops the curse. also maybe i’m just going a little crazy from such a long review, but i don’t understand what happens when neil and bee introduce themselves? why does andrew laugh?? but man i love the death humour that you incorporate so seamlessly. deadline?? the best is that it’s wymack and he didn’t even mean it!!

rosemary rosemary!! sooo cute. i also like the formatting for neil doing the meditating thing with bee, the new lines are so nice. it makes the words seem quieter? somehow it sets the tone better.

okay so any time before where i said that it was my favourite part? i was wrong. because neil shifting into all these animals? it’s probably my favourite part of this whole fic. the mannerisms he adopts while a different animal are really interesting to read about. i especially liked all the times when he sank too deep into the skin. with the crow, being distracted by something shiny, processing humanspeak, fully taking on the mind of a crow. bolting as a wolf. you also take this opportunity and have a lot of fun with it, which makes it fun to read. neil being a chihuahua? adorable. a ferret? cute! i feel like i remember him being a goat but now i can’t find if that actually happened. and the mentions of neil being a moose or zebra or cow oh my goodness haha i love it! cat!neil is something that makes me feel so soft. (also reminds me of idnis’ fic curiousity killed the cat. which i adore) i think that being a cat would be really fun. and oh, to hear that the curse still affects neil in his different skins. “andrew andrew you’re the only person i want to be around when i’m in pain the person i always want to be around’ i can’t even describe how this makes me feel. i love that you don’t have punctuation, it fits how i would think bond communication works. i read this and i get achy, it’s so much and i want so bad.

another thing that i remembered liking so clearly were the little bits that you have in all caps. they are perfect breaks in the chapter that feel kind of like a warning. you know something bad is coming. maybe you’re going to explain it in the last chapter what it is? it is obviously some sort of conversation. something found in the hatford grimoire? oh my goodness i totally forgot that we haven’t had much use of it, that must be something that’s going to be brought up again. ahhh. WAIT A SECOND IS IT TO GET US READY FOR THE FACT THAT NEIL’S BONDS WITH ALL THE ANIMALS HE CAN SHIFT INTO ARE GOING TO SACRIFICE THEMSELVES. oh hold on anothER second is it conversation between kevin and neil when they were training? ahhhHHh

the whole showdown is so intense and so fast and so well written i don’t know what else to say.

‘renee eviscerates her.’ - do i even need to comment on why i love this so much? it’s one of my bookmarks. i don’t have any notes, just the quote.

i’ve reached the end of what’s posted right now. i’m glad that there’s still an update to come, although i accepted that this was the end of the fic (when i first read it i had believed that the fifth chapter was meant so that you could insert the art that corresponds to this fic)

as you can tell, there was so much i enjoyed about this fic. there’s something about the way that you write that is so simple. i don’t have to try when reading. it doesn’t feel like i’m reading, i’m just following the story. it’s also such a well developed universe and i’m really impressed by how you were able to incorporate all of the magical aspects into the plot and explain everything so clearly without it being too obvious. this fic was funny at all the right times, and yet had angst like woahhh. you maintained a great balance between lighthearted scenes, seriousness, relationship/character development, and plot. i get so lost in reading this fic that time passes so quickly.

i really hope that more people find this fic, i think it’s such a shame that it doesn’t seem to be as appreciated as it should be. you can tell it’s something special though, with so many people bookmarking it. thank you so so much for writing this fic and choosing to share it with the fandom! i am so excited that there is another chapter for this, i’m sure that it’s amazing, regardless of how you think it seems.

#atlas #aftg fic review #raelle writes

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aonorunic · 5 years

Text

History on Repeat, Chapter 1: All Coming Back, Fire Emblem Fic

Summary: Byleth slept after she lost him, awakening ages later to Garreg Mach University. She is drawn into the friendly competition between dorm floors, an argument as to which D&D group is better, trips to coffee shops, and the questions into her own lost memories.

Claude could not help but be suspicious of Seteth’s niece who appeared out of nowhere, but there was something so familiar about her, something that made his heart ache. How had she appeared in his dreams years before either of them even came to the University?

Read on AO3.

Prologue

A forest. Darkness, so thick it clouded all sense.

Fear, not for himself.

“I don’t believe anything you say! Our professor is still alive!” He knew that voice. Yes, Lysithea. She was wearing that strange uniform he kept seeing. Why did she look like she was about to cry?

“That’s right! Our professor is no ordinary human!” Flayn? Why was she there? And who was this professor they kept talking about.

“I refuse to believe that Teach would die in a place like this!” The words came from his own mouth this time.

“It is possible that death has yet to find your friend. But there are worse things than death.” The voice made him angry, that twisted face burned into his memory.

“Hey, all I hear is good news. Teach is still alive. And if that’s true, then there’s only one thing to do. Defeat you while we wait for Teach’s triumphant return!”

“Prepare yourself. We will avenge our leader here and now!” Yeah, that definitely sounded like something Leonie would say.

“How trite. But if you wish for pain, I shall oblige. If you prefer it so, you shall also be added to the ranks of the dead!”

Anger rose in him, but he fought it back. He needed to remain in control. This twisted creature before him had hurt someone he cared about. He was going to destroy them.

And then the sky itself opened.

Claude woke with a gasp, sitting bolt upright. Where? Right, his dorm room. When? Middle of the night, both too early and too late. What? Nightmare, just a nightmare. His breathing slowly evened out, all while he tried to hold onto the images of his dream. He needed to remember them. He needed to remember her face.

He stood and threw on a black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before exiting his room. His feet took him to a door decorated with charms and images of birds. Claude beat once loudly before resting his head against the wood. “Hilda, it’s me. Let me in.”

Muttered cursing came from behind the door, but a moment later a sleepy pink haired woman opened it. “What’s going on, Claude?” Hilda asked, her words ending in a yawn.

“I need my sketchbook.”

Hilda stepped out of the way even as Claude moved into the room. He went straight to the desk that was actually organized (Marianne had somehow managed to create chaos over on her side of the room again), and picked up the leather covered book inlaid in gold with a stylized crescent moon.

“Another dream?” Hilda threw herself back down onto her bed, scooting back until her back was against the wall.

Claude took his usual place beside her, his full attention on his book. He was already flipping to a clean page even as settled himself in. “Yeah,” he answered distractedly.

Across the room, Marianne, still tangled in her own blanket and looking very much like a cocooned caterpillar, made the short trip to Hilda’s bed and curled up on Claude’s other side as he sketched out the first few lines.

The two women watched him in silence as Claude put his dream to paper. It was a rough drawing as he tried to get the whole thing down before he forgot, but the woman who cut open the sky did not fade. His mind held onto her, as if terrified that he would lose her again.

Again? Had he lost her before? Had he dreamed and forgotten her already?

“She’s beautiful,” Marianne murmured, mouth covered by the cloth she was snuggling into. “Like a goddess.”

“She might be,” Claude answered. There was something about her that made him think of her as...more. He was not sure what more actually meant.

“That outfit is terrible though.” Hilda rested her chin on Claude’s shoulder, her judgement coming from a professional standpoint. “You have to let me redesign that. Oh! She’d look so cute in a dress! With a ribbon in her hair!”

Claude felt heat in his cheeks as he imagined the woman he had just drawn wearing the outfit Hilda described. Why was he blushing? There was something about this woman from his dream that both made him passionate and distressed. He had thought getting her down on paper would be the solution, but he still felt as if he were missing something. “I don’t think she actually likes wearing her hair up,” was his intelligent response.

Hilda straightened so she could look him in the eye. “Claude von Riegan, you woke me up in the middle of the night, took over my bed, and are making me lose my much needed beauty sleep before my test tomorrow-”

“Today,” Marianne interrupted. “It’s in three hours actually.”

“Yes, that exactly.” Hilda gave him a withering look that did not truly have any power behind it. As annoyed as she was at being woken up, Hilda never denied Claude when he had to deal with one of his dreams. “So, that being the case, I will draw your little goddess there in whatever outfit I like, and I will put a cute little ribbon in her hair, and you will just have to deal with it.”

Claude held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right, I relent. Put her in whatever outfit you want. Did you finish with my other designs? I have more I want to do right now.”

“Yeah.” Hilda yawned and stretched, falling back across Claude’s lower legs. Marianne followed her example and snuggled into Claude’s side. “I’m going to sleep now. You can keep sketching so long as you don’t wake me up.”

“Well, you did kind of trap me.” Claude laughed softly as he flipped to another clean page.

“Me? The delicate flower that I am? Why, Claude, I am shocked and appalled. Now shut up.”

It was cramped on the small bed, but there was something deeply comforting about the warmth of his friends surrounding him. At the very least, his heart no longer felt like it would beat out of his chest.

“Your hair certainly grew very long.” Flayn smiled at Byleth in the vanity mirror. Byleth simply started back at her. There was a bit of puzzlement in her eyes, but Flayn really had to search for it. She had forgotten how little emotion Byleth had shown when she first arrived at Garreg Mach, and it unnerved her to see one of her favorite people revered back to such a state. She had liked when Byleth began to smile more. “We tried to keep up with it, but over the last few decades you grew more restless in your sleep. With the Sword of the Creator next to you, it really was not safe for Seteth and I to try. We will have to cut most of this off.”

Flayn picked up a pair of scissors and measured out where she would cut, just below Byleth’s shoulders like the woman had always kept it. Byleth shook her head, causing some of the mint green strands to slip through Flayn’s fingers. “Lower.”

Flayn blinked at Byleth’s reflection in the mirror, but quickly recovered and nodded. Byleth had not said more than her and Seteth’s names since waking up, rolling the sounds around in her mouth as if trying to memorize a foreign taste. “It will be impractical to keep all of it,” she noted, eyes sweeping down to where Byleth’s hair brushed against the floor. The other woman had been asleep so long not even her own divine magic had protected her from adverse effects. Seteth had had to carry her out of the underground tomb. Flayn worried that keeping Byleth’s hair so long would only cause the other woman to trip on her already unsteady feet.

“How about here?” she asked, indicating a length that would leave Byleth’s hair down to her waist.

Byleth thought for a moment before nodding her acquiescence.

“Wonderful!”

Flayn continued to chat to Byleth as she worked, filling Byleth in on little things she remembered the woman liking, or discussing new things she would experience for the first time. Byleth seemed to lean into the sound of her voice, finding comfort in being near someone else after so long. Whenever Flayn would pause, Byleth would fidget ever so slightly, twisting her hands together, or poking at her now shorn hair upon the floor with a toe. So Flayn continued.

She brushed out Byleth’s hair, working out knots and tangles, until it was smooth once again. Without really thinking about it she began to braid Byleth’s hair, just as her mother had done for her so very long ago. It was a bittersweet experience.

A knock on the door interrupted Flayn’s latest story about music videos. “Flayn, may I come in?” Seteth’s voice floated through the wooden barrier.

“Yes, Father.” It felt wonderful to be able to call him that in this new age. She had never enjoyed the deception, despite knowing the need for its existence.

Seteth took a moment to look over Flayn’s work, a small smile on his lips, before grabbing a chair to sit next to Byleth. “I wanted to show you how to use this,” he told her, holding out a cell phone. “Flayn and I will be here as much as we can. And Indech will help you when we are not here. There are two other servants who come to clean the estate and a cook, but Flayn sent them away for a few days. We told them we wanted to get you used to your new environment a little at a time. But this will allow you to contact us if we are not here.”

Byleth took the phone and looked at it with interest, following along as Seteth showed her how to work the device. She followed along without much issue, picking up on the new technology with the speed Flayn remembered her mastering tactics and strategy.

“There,” Flayn said proudly once she was done with Byleth’s braid.

Byleth looked up from the phone, studying herself in the mirror. She touched the braid and pulled it over her shoulder, before finally nodding. “Thank you.”

Flayn could not help herself. She threw her arms around Byleth, crying in relief against her shoulder. “I am so glad you returned to us.”

She felt Byleth pat her back awkwardly, but the other woman did not push her away. It made Flayn cling all the tighter.

“You have all come together in the Guild Hall to hear the announcement of the Grand Challenge,” Claude announced, standing in front of all three D&D groups gathered in the common room. He was in full costume, dressed in gold and black. He had even worn the cape Hilda had added onto his original design. “Listen up, for anyone who makes our jobs harder will find themselves disqualified!”

Next to him Dimitri shook his head. The blond man was wrapped tightly in a faux fur trimmed blue cape, making it impossible to see if he had worn the rest of his costume or not.

Edelgard cleared her throat and stepped forward. She had only elected to wear her dramatic red cape and that fantastic horned crown. Even with a casual black dress on underneath, she still looked intimidating as hell. She reached over to open the golden chest Dimitri held, and pulled out the piece of paper Claude had stained with tea to imitate age.

“As you all know, the Grand Challenge offers both prestige and riches. This quest will not be for the faint of heart. Only the most skilled of adventures should consider undertaking this endeavor. The Challenge,” she continued, now reading from the paper, “is the retrieval of the Sword of Creation. Wielded by a goddess at the beginning of time, it was stolen and used to destroy her and her children. Although the thief is said to have been defeated many centuries ago, his tomb has become a resting place for all manner of wicked and vile creatures. Credible rumors of its whereabouts have reached the king, and he has issued this quest himself. All those who would face the darkness of Shambala step forth and be known!”

Immediately all three groups began to cheer and boast their own credentials. Edelgard allowed it to continue for a moment before raising a hand, silencing them all with a less than amused look. Claude was both impressed and slightly envious.

“The expedition to Shambala will depart in seven days. You must have your intentions known to the guild before that time. The Guild will be providing transport, but only to those who have proven their worth to us. If you have not, I suggest you get to work over the next few days.”

With a dramatic sweep of her cape, Edelgard turned and walked away. Claude and Dimitri joined their fellow dungeon master on the other side of the common room, watching as their groups began to plan. Claude stretched out on the sofa next to her, while Dimitri settled himself into an overstuffed chair, still wrapped up in his cloak. “Nicely done,” Claude complimented.

Edlegard ducked her head in acknowledgement. “They were your words, Claude. But, it was rather fun to act as the Guild Master.”

“This is certainly going to be interesting, having all three of our groups on the same quest,” Dimitri said, his eyes fixed to where Felix seemed to be threatening Sylvain with a plastic lightsaber.

“It’s going to be chaos,” Edlegard added.

Claude smirked. “Isn’t that what we’re after? It’s the best part about D&D after all.” He did not know who had said what, but Hilda was waving her foam replica of Gimli’s axe at Casper, standing in front of Lorenz as if she was defending his honor.

“I’m excited to see where this leads. It was certainly entertaining just working on this quest with the two of you.” Dimitri stretched out his long legs, and Claude could finally see that yes, he was at least wearing the boots and pants of his costume. He didn’t even attempt to hide his smirk. “Do you think we should intervene at some point? It does seem to be becoming rather heated over there.”

Claude watched as Petra deflected a plastic water bottle from hitting Dorothea with her wooden keyblade. “Nah, we left them with a list of available quests they can do before the Challenge. They’ll be fine.”

“It is our job as RAs to break this up if they become too rowdy,” Edelgard pointed out.

Claude gave her a look. “Who even says rowdy anymore?”

As the three of them fell into their own lighthearted argument, Claude could not help but note how glad he was to have found such good friends.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem fanfiction #claude x byleth #claudeth #my fic #my writing #history on repeat

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