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blacklegsanjiii · 5 days

Note

Rest in peace Perona her efforts will not be in vain… she’s having the formative sapphic experience of Definitely flirting with someone but them being too oblivious to ever pick it up so they’re just stuck in a friendship hole.

And the boys with Zoro 😭 they’re not doing any better . They miss their brother…!

Though thinking about it with what you said about not really believing in soul marks in regards to Zoro and zosan being implied to be soulmates, I feel like if that ever came up they’d tear him a new one . Zoro is entirely decked out in threes. The swords, the earrings, he prefers doing things in sets of three (new thing he didn’t know about himself that the brothers point out to him actually) , so is their three just not good enough for him??? Huh ???

Though also that leads me to ask. How are zosan in this au? I imagine they’re kinda turbulent in their usual way, but it would be fun to know more 👁️

- Wine

THIS IS SO LONG WINE! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME??

(thank you this is very fun)

Perona will never be forgotten! Mihawk will also make sure she knows her failures are not her fault, but that it is quite funny to see her fail. Perona argues that it's easier for him and Sora just because they have soulmarks. Sora then tells them about their first meeting and that it was a whole event and she's surprised the guards didn't kill him. Mihawk argues that he would have just kidnapped her then and there and killed the guards if they wouldn't release him. Sora just frowning at him with crossed arms. Mihawk stares back and points out it was an entirely valid option.

Where as 124ji miss their brother and whine about not being able to talk to him or get any updates on him for two years. They look at the hilts and braids on Zoro's swords and think of their brother and his mark. They ask Zoro about his mark and he shrugs and shows them. It's a school of all different types of fish in the bluest blue they've seen but it's on his back. They ask if they know who his soulmate is because they know. They can tell who it is but Zoro has no clue and doesn't care really. So they don't tell him. When Mihawk finds out he asks Zoro why he thinks denying himself will make him stronger at some point during their training together. Zoro says he wants to focus on fulfilling his dream and making sure Luffy becomes the king of the pirates. Mihawk sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose and points out he didn't get become the greatest until he was in his thirties, after he saved Sora and started raising all the kids. Zoro shrugs and says that doesn't know what that has to do with him and Mihawk says it's a waste to ignore the power of having something to protect, that having that person, that family draws a strength greater than just wanting to be the the greatest.

Zoro shrugs and 124ji bemoan their brother going through soulmate rejection because they remember the rose colored view of soulmates Sanji had. Zoro looks at them with confusion and Niji says they were right about it when they were younger. Zoro asks what they mean and they point out the three swords, three earrings, that he does do things in three so what is about Sanji that he doesn't like so he rejects his soulmate. Zoro is staring at them. Because they're clearly fed up and they're talking about how they were right when they were younger about his soulmate not loving him as much as they do. Zoro argues he's never even seen the cook's soulmark and Mihawk chides his sons to be quiet. Zoro didn't want to know or be held back by his soulmate after all.

Zoro of course is thinking back to the cook asking him about soulmates in Cocoyashi after they saved Nami and her village and what he told the cook who nodded and stayed quiet. The agression and snide remarks. Of course it had to be the cook. Zoro always found Sanji when the blond got lost in the woods and always tailored food to him. So now Zoro, who's kinda been a dick to his soulmate for months and he's staying with his family and planning to kill his dad. The blond who has been telling people he knows his soulmate but they're not together, won't ever be together. The blond who sometimes gets a faraway look in his eye before going back to give his all to care for the crew.

Also like Sanji has to absolutely have game if Zoro "rejected" him. With all the flirting he was doing as a teen hoping to find his soulmate he has gotta have so much fucking game. So Zoro is with Mihawk and Sora and their kids and Perona as he running through the gambit of emotions of what happened up until Sabaody and he just looks like when Perona hit him with a ghost on Thriller Bark. Perona is yelling at Zoro that he's been so fucking dum and not cute because only he could reject his soulmate who is a one way ticket to Mihawk.

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pencilofawesomeness · 1 year

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Some Fairy Tail x Twisted Wonderland stuff

because I can merge my current media fixations if I want to.

I started thinking about which dorms the Fairy Tail peeps would be in, for the funsies, and then I thought more about it and then it spiraled into me actually drawing it. I have more ideas, too, but I limited it to one each. For now.

Anyway have some of my thoughts, because I have nothing else to do with them. I have more, of course, but here’s a bit:

Erza: Heartslabyl [Housewarden; fae] —very much believes that rules are important, but in a chaotic way —forgets other people don’t think the way she does —easily stuck in her ways —passionate; can be very emotive —very dedicated to ✨ special interest ✨ (swords, armor, etc)

Natsu: Savanaclaw [dragon-fae] —feral gremlin child; can be pugnacious, but also pretty chill —stubborn but not particularly ambitious —doesn’t rely on anybody, necessarily, but also is very group-orientated —protective of friends pack —very emotive but allergic to being openly vulnerable —depending on backstory, has other people trying to dictate his future

Lucy: Octavinelle [human] —doesn’t like not having any control in a situation —pursues personal ambitions / personal happiness —likes ✨ contracts ✨ —not above being sneaky, but keeps her word —collects keys friends etc

Gray: Scarabia [human] —allergic to failure —poor natural teamwork skills (used to doing things alone) —will throw away morality for success’ sake —self-esteem is an unstable pendulum —dabbles in scheming

Juvia: Pomefiore [merfolk] —cares about what other people think of her —will alter herself to fit in, even to her own detriment —very, very tenacious when she gets focused on something —she is beauty, she is grace, she will punch you in the face

Mystogan: Ignihyde [Housewarden; human] —anti-social is his middle name —dedicated to a job he did not want (cleaning up father’s mess, etc.) —really good with items and gadgets —just wants to do his own thing if he ever gets a break —life goals? nonexistent

Freed: Diasomnia [half-human, half-fae] —likes to swear his loyalty to his peers; dedication to group —weird af has a certain decorum he upholds —magic is easier than a normal social life —confident in his abilities but not in how he is perceived —concerned about his sense of belonging

#fairy tail #twisted wonderland #fairy tail x twisted wonderland #crossover au #erza scarlet #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #mystogan #freed justine #this got out of hand but I had fun #yes I have more ideas about who would be in what dorm #and I have all the housewardens picked out #but I wanted to keep this to fairy tail members / major characters #and they were also the first ones I thought of and sketched out #I also had fun messing with the races a bit #trying to vibe check them thusly #giving juvia sharp fish teeth was very self indulgent #it was worth me failing to figure out a pose for her where I could show them off #these all started as quick sketches but then I was compelled to shade #so it's a bit nicer than I intended but eh #I had fun #also I learned that the housewardens design their own outfit #literally while in the middle of this project #so I think erza's would be more customized #rather than the og housewarden design #she would probably have a little armor flair to it #mystogan I did towards the end so I messed with his a bit #he probably has a hood too but I couldn't draw it in and keep the high neck

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keldae · 2 months

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This sounds like Gale: letting them ramble when they need to let off steam

Uneducated though Devi might have been, she wasn’t stupid and she knew it. Her learning had come from the streets of Baldur’s Gate. She could read, of course – Jehn had taught her how when they were children. But she much preferred to learn through doing something rather than reading about it in a book (much to the shock of a few of Gale’s peers, who firmly believed he could have chosen a more suitable partner for his station than an uneducated Baldurian thief. One had been foolish enough to state that opinion in front of Gale. Nobody else had been brave enough since then to say anything.).

Although, she thought, she could learn just as well from listening to her betrothed venting about a new theory of the Weave, without needing to be a wizard herself.

“... preposterous,” Gale said, scowling down at the book in front of him. “Anyone who has studied the Weave even casually knows that it certainly does not work like this! The Weave cannot be utilised like what they’re proposing!” He sighed. “How did this drivel get past Blackstaff Academy’s academics?”

Curiously, Devi curled up on the couch in Gale’s study, watching him get up from his chair to pace back and forth, the book in his hand. “Explain it to me like I’m five?” she asked.

“And one of the smartest five-year-olds in existence, my darling.” Gale paused his pacing and looked up from the book to smile at her before he resumed his rant. “This nonsense proposal states that, if a construct were to be imbued with the Weave, that they would become capable of manipulating the Weave itself. Imagine, if you will, one of Gortash’s Steel Watchers attempting to cast any sort of a spell! Or that guardian we encountered in the Grymforge on our adventure!”

Devi wrinkled her nose. “They were already tough enough to fight without them using the Weave,” she grumbled.

Gale nodded his agreement. “Very true. But beyond that, such a thing would be impossible. You simply cannot channel the Weave without having been truly alive at some point! Even the undead or the reanimated who were wizards in life struggle to touch the Weave. And Mystra would not allow the Weave to be used as some sort of… of life-giving substitute! You need to have your own soul in order to touch the Weave!”

Drawing her feet up on the couch, Devi followed Gale with her eyes as he resumed pacing. “So if you need a soul to touch the Weave, does that mean mind flayers cannot use the Weave?”

“Correct! Mind flayers have their own psionic magic that Mystra has no influence over. Even an illithid who had been a wizard before undergoing ceremorphosis would have no connection to the Weave. There is a reason the Emperor never tried to use the Weave during our adventure, despite all his other substantial abilities – and I have no doubt that, if he had been able to do so, he would have used it in a heartbeat.” Gale paused. “Where was I going with this?”

Devi thought for a moment. “You need to have a soul to use the Weave?”

Gale snapped his fingers. “Thank you, my love. A construct, even one infused with the Weave, can never learn to channel it on its own. The Weave is magnificent and powerful, but it is no substitute for a soul! Not even with an artificial heart or brain could a soul be replicated – such things are the realm of the gods. And I daresay even Ao would not put a soul into a construct! One may as well try to put a soul into a sword, or a cooking pot! To access the Weave, you require your own soul.”

Smiling, Devi nodded. She loved watching and listening to Gale when he went on a ‘Professor Dekarios’ spiel. One of these days, she thought, she would have to sneak into one of his classes just to watch him lecture like this more. “So by that logic – any lifeform with a soul could learn to channel the Weave?”

“Precisely. Some people will find it easier than others – take you and I, for example. You require assistance and a conduit at this stage in accessing the Weave – although, with practice, I’m sure you’ll learn to use it at will without my help.” Gale pursed his lips in thought. “In all fairness, that could also be due to our drastically-different upbringings. If you had been raised by wizards, like I was, you would probably be able to touch the Weave much easier, especially with your Elven heritage. Alas – we’ll likely never know.” He shook his head. “All that to say, this idea is ridiculous.”

“So if a soul is the critical component to channeling the Weave,” Devi started, “could you not take a soul out of a person and put it into a construct?”

Gale opened his mouth, then paused. “What you're proposing is highly unethical, my love,” he said after a moment's thought. “And frankly, I'm not sure that transferring a soul into a new body is even feasible.”

“But if it was?” Devi asked. “If it was possible to transfer a soul into a construct, would that construct not be able to learn to channel the Weave?”

Crossing his arms, Gale leaned against his desk, head tilted as he considered the idea. “... It's not completely out of the realm of feasibility,” he finally admitted. “But whether the soul would be able to sustain itself in the construct's body is a different question entirely. The construct would lack a heart, a brain, blood, organs…”

“But it would have an engine of some sort,” Devi pointed out. “That would keep it alive.”

“The construct, yes – but what of the soul itself?” Gale stroked his beard in thought. “A more learned cleric could probably argue the point better than I can, but I read a book once that indicated a soul needs life in the body it inhabits. Purely mechanical organs would not be suitable to keep the soul itself alive and in the construct's body.”

“So if a soul can't be permanently transferred into a construct,” Devi said, “and a soul is required to touch the Weave…”

“Then we circle back around to ‘constructs cannot access the Weave’, and I will not be at risk of losing my position in the Academy to one such construct.” Gale grinned, looking immensely satisfied. “Thank you, darling – I think we have just collaboratively written a responding paper to this ridiculous theory. I'll be sure to give you the appropriate credit.”

Devi laughed as Gale tossed the book that had so offended him on his desk, then tilted her head. “So, if you're up for another intellectual puzzle from your uneducated partner…”

“You may not have been formally educated, Devi, but you are every bit as intelligent as any of my students or peers,” Gale assured her, crossing the room to kiss her forehead. “What new puzzle do you have for me?”

“If illithids can use psionic magic without needing souls, could a construct use psionics too?”

Gale blinked, then frowned at the ceiling of his study. “Psionic magic… I hadn't even considered that. But given the nature of psionics and illithids, I should think that the concept would…”

Devi smiled fondly, watching her betrothed as he went back to pacing the room while talking, still deep in his role as an impromptu lecturer. She loved watching and listening to him at work like this – Gale’s mind never ceased to amaze her, and she loved how he included her in discussions without patronising her. He never made her feel inferior with her lack of formal education, and she loved him all the more for it.

#bg3 fic #bg3 #gale x tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #deviali #post game #philosophical discussions on magic

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purple-tello · 1 year

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Another special delivery of angst! These files are from the most recent updates to Facility 92's database by none other thaaaan, you guessed it, AGENT BISHOP!

Trigger warnings are implied experimentation and dehumanizing language

Subject Three - "Leonardo"

Filed by Agent Bishop in Facility 96.

After the ambush today, we were able to capture two of our assailants. The first of these is a mutated turtle, likely one of the, "children," referred to by One. There are no legal records of Three's birth, therefore its consent to DNA testing is not required.

From a quick glance, we have been able to identify Three as a species of Red Eared Slider, its human DNA matching that of Hamato Yoshi. Three's metabolism is also extremely high, as the drugs used to sedate them wore off extreme fast. Likely due to the mutagen. Extracting a sample will be necessary.

Three shows an intelligence that should not be underestimated. It waited until a guard's back was turned before drawing a sword out of nowhere to attack. All items have been apprehended from its possession as to keep it from using anything as a weapon. It has asked to see subjects One, Two, and Four. We have permitted it to see Four, though through bars. We cannot allow these subjects to escape, they are our only access to the mutagen.

It should also be noted that Three should not be left without supervision for long. Several escape attempts have already been attempted, and we cannot risk another. Three is extremely observant and should not be underestimated.

It is suggested that Three can be used to better contain Four. If either escapes, nonlethal methods are recommended, but should it become necessary, kill on sight.

Subject Four - "Raphael"

Filed by Agent Bishop in Facility 92.

Subject Four was quickly apprehended with Three, though it took much longer to sedate it. It was noticeably much easier to apprehend it when threatened with Three's safety. Due to the lack of citizenship or record of Four being a legal citizen of the United States, consent is not required for DNA testing of any kind.

Four seems to he a mutated form of Alligator Snapping turtle with the shared DNA of Hamato Yoshi. This connection between Three and Four suggests that despite their differing species, they are related. It is recommended that we push further for One's consent to its DNA to see if that connection extends to it as well.

Upon speaking to Three, this conversation was recorded.

Three: You okay?

Four: Yeah... Fine. What about you, you okay?

Three: Other than getting needles in my arm? Fantastic. It's always been my dream to be a guinea pig in a lab against my will.

Four: Leo stop, that's not funny. Did you see if the others got out?

Three: Don't ask that. They're fine, but don't give anyone an inch to investigate it again.

Four: You don't think -

Three: Shush. They're probably listening right now.

Four: Have you thought of a way out?

Three: God do you not hear me? Shush! And really? You wanna listen to my plans now?

Four: |after hesitation| You're probably right... I'm sorry...

Three: Oh I can tell.

Four: Leo I'm sorry.

Three: I believe you.

Four: LEO I AM SORRY. |Four was then observed panicking with its hands on its head| I'm sorry, okay? You were right, we shouldn't have done this! We should have just waited to get dad back and - you were right...

|several moments of silence|

Four: Please talk to me...

Three: You weren't listening before... Why would you now?

Four: Because... I don't have a good reason.. But I'm sorry. I was scared, I ran in when I shouldn't have, I put us all in danger, and now you're paying for it.

|more silence|

Four: I knew you were right, but I... I didn't want to listen. I was so scared I'd lose them, like how we lost you. I wasn't ready to face that again.

Three: I know.

Four: You do?

Three: Dude I literally did this same thing when you got taken by the - |Three cut itself off here and glanced towards the camera, as if afraid to reveal information. Note for later|

Four: You... Did?

Three: I got us all hurt trying to get you back. It took... God it took him talking to me to really sink in how dangerous this all is... I didn't think death applied to us before. I do now.

Four: Yeah... Because of what happened to you.

Three: No, because of what could have happened to you.

Four: What?

Three: Not here... But I get it. I just don't get why... You were always lecturing me for acting like that, why did you?

|silence|

Three: Raph?

Four: Because it's what you would have done, before.

Three: Huh?

Four: You're our leader. Doesn't matter that you gave that title to me when you got hurt, deep down we all know you're the one we follow. Even when we were kids, Leo, you always had the plans, the ideas. You got us out of trouble or figured out the answers to our problems. You gave me the chance to prove myself again, and I didn't wanna waste it.

Three: So you thought making the same mistakes I did would help?

Four: I dunno what I thought... Just that that was how we used to do things. Go in, get it done, get out. You and I would fight like we always did but we'd get the job done.

Three: Keep talking like that and the people here are going to think we're assassins.

Four: Oh... Right.

|more silence|

Three: ... Raph what are they gonna do to us?

Raph: Well... We know they didn't hurt dad...

Three: Dad has rights. We don't.

Four: What?

Three: They can prove dad is a US citizen. Us? We have no legal proof of existence anywhere. Nobody knows about us... They can do whatever they want to us...

Four: I won't let them. Not to you.

Three: ... We really gucked this one up, huh?

Four: Yeah... We did. I'm sorry, Leo.

Three: I know... And I forgive you... Hey, I have an idea.

After this both subjects refused to acknowledge or speak to each other. There was no indication of any communication between them other than their facial expressions. As ridiculous as it sounds, I suggest a mental connection of some kind.

It seems that Three is the only true motivation to keep Four calm and resistant to escape. It has not attempted to escape so much as see Three face to face. This could be utilized in their containment. Should Four escape, it's size is too big to kept alive. Do not engage, and kill on sight.

#ttatc #ask rottmnt #rottmnt #plot #tw dehumanizing language #tw implied experimentation

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bayleaf-2 · 9 months

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"...I do care, by the way."

Fun fact for this one, I sent this to Kirth pretty early and Khunoth saying "I can :)" is a line he gave me and I just rolled with it. If it weren't for him this would've ended at "-no big deal! okay!!"

Anyway. Word count is 484, the only things that actually happened in the session are what Ioun says and Lyra's verbal response. I think I wrote this well enough for the rest of Lyra's response to be canon though, at least in spirit/vibes.

"...I do care, by the way."

Lyra nearly falls off of Khunoth from shock, flailing so much they hear a "clonk!" from some part of their body hitting him. Khunoth's arm flies up to catch them, and hold them steady as they freak the hell out.

Lyra's not gonna lie, her head is spinning a little bit! And not just because their sense of balance got shaken like a snow globe! She can't even feel pain from whatever limb just hit Khunoth's solid metal body! They-!! Ioun cares?!?! IOUN CARES ABOUT HIM!?!? VNSJFCKS OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!!

Well, say something!! You can't leave her hanging!!

"djkkdjfhd what- I-I, you can't just drop that on me,,,"

...Close enough!

Ioun shrugs and...smiles at them???? Fuck. "I had to at some point," she replies.

ggggOD OKAY!!!! OKAY!!!! SURE! SURE, WHY NOT. GOD. HE'LL JUST DIE RIGHT HERE YEAH. HE'LL DIE BLUSHING ON KHUNOTH'S SHOULDER BECAUSE THEY JUST GOT CONFIRMATION FROM IOUN HERSELF. YEAH THAT'S!!! FINE!!

AND NOW SHE'S LOOKING AWAY AND ACTING LIKE IT'S NO BIG DEAL! OKAY!!!

They lean on Khunoth for support, hiding their face against his head for a moment.

"I cannot believe her," Lyra mutters to Khunoth with a high-pitched, shaky voice. They were ffffucking done for. There goes all his focus on the conversation!! God dammit!!!! And also all the reasons it draws his focus BUT SHE'S RIGHT FUCKING THERE SO-

"I can :)" Khunoth replies.

With that Lyra shrieks at him in both surprised, confused laughter and betrayal as they jump back further than the first time, because WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!?!? HELLO???? DOES HE KNOW SOMETHING SHE DOESN'T?? WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN, MAN!!!

Speaking of which, Khunoth catches them again (it was easier now that his hand was already holding their legs) despite them yelling next to (or Lyra assumed, at least) his sensors, but the planning-talk suddenly pauses because Lyra just screamed.

This was ffffine everything was fine!!! He's great!!! Yeah everything's cool! Don't fucking look at Ioun's face! Don't you do it! There's no coming back from that!!!

Just!!! Focus on something else!

Get the planning talk happening again, that shit's important! Even if Lyra's not gonna be able to be completely engaged! "S-Sorry, Khunoth's. Trying to murder me over here," they growl, glaring in his direction before turning back to the group. "C. Continue. Promise everything's fine."

Thankfully that's enough and Ioun and Emily resume their conversation, Spark piping up occasionally.

Lyra immediately shoots Khunoth a death glare. They want to headbutt him soooo bad. That would hurt. They settle for chewing him out instead, keeping their voice lowered. "Khunoth."

"Lyra."

W!!!! Why does he always do this. They swear behind all the fucking. Power seeking and plotting and primordial god-eating sword forging this guy has like. He knows how to push people's buttons.

Or maybe just Lyra's buttons. Elion's. Lyra's?? She's the same guy, whatever.

#lyra #oh man this plant writes!#c: dnd related #i lied (about going to bed after the first post)#484 feels like such a low number and then i look at how long this post is and i go oh :')

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kumoriyami-xiuzhen · 2 years

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Hakuoki Drama - Hijikata Biyori Track 24 - One person and one thing English translation

every now and then... i think about going through all my image posts and tagging them with the characters properly so that things are easier to find.... then i think of how much of a hassle that’d be and shut that idea down lol.

anyway, enjoy!

Hakuoki Drama - Hijikata Biyori Track 24 One person and one thing

Translation by KumoriYami

Hijikata: I can't believe you're really here. For you to suddenly call me out, which way is the wind blowing?

Kazama: It's rare for me do such a thing, but for an uncultured and depraved samurai to immediately draw their sword at me, regardless of how stupid you are, shouldn't you know that a teahouse in an inappropriate place for you to draw your sword?

Hijikata: What!?

Kazama: Don't be so angry. Are you not even able to enjoy tea?

Hijikata:....Hey, get me some tea!

...

Kazama/Hijikata: Hey! [spoken at the same time]

Kazama:....What?

Hijikata: What do you mean what! You're the one who called me out, so hurry up and get to the point.

Kazama: Why did you come alone?

Hijikata; You were the one who told me to come alone.

Kazama: I didn't tell you to come alone. I just told the messenger to only notify you.

Hijikata: Isn't that the same!

Kazama: Hm, I admit that it was courageous of you to meet me alone.

HIjikata: You're the same, daring to come by yourself even though I could have brought my companions with me.

Kazama: It wouldn't matter how many people you gathered. I alone would be enough.

Hijikata: I'll throw the same words back to you.

Kazama: (For a mere human to say such a thing, it's hard not to laugh.)

Hijikata: Did you say something?

Kazama: Anyway, what's that girl doing?

Hijikata: That girl? Ah, she has nothing to do with you! Quit pestering her!

Kazama: Pester... is it. She was originally mine. I should have said that before.

Hijikata: It's unfortunate if you were planning on aiming for that guy while you called me out. I've made sure that she's sufficiently protected.

Kazama: Oh~ how impressive. But if I wanted to take her, I would do that myself.

Hijikata:...Then what are you doing! Why did you call me out!

Kazama: I see. It appears that the role of guard dog has been effectively fulfilled.

Hijikata: Hey! Hurry up and get to the point! I'm busy too!

Kazama: Then it's fine if we're done.

Hijikata: Ah? What are you saying! Ha... it's really is impossible to talk with you.

Kazama: Are you leaving?

Hijikata; Look at the sky.

Kazama: Nn?

Hijikata: It's going to rain soon.

Kazama: So it is. It seems like neither you nor I can relax in such a place.

Hijikata: Ha?

Kazama: I don't know what you believe in today will still exist tomorrow. I wonder if what you are clinging onto will survive the next time we meet.

Hijikata; Hmph, shut up. No matter what happens, there's only one thing that I believe in.

(Hijikata leaves)

Kazama: As I am leaving Kyoto soon, I wanted to see how those fellows were doing, and it seems that they were more or less useful. For the time being, I will leave her to you. Furthermore, as a human being, how are you able to say such interesting things? Let me see what you believe in.

-end-

#hakuoki #hakuouki #hakuoki drama cd #hakuoki drama translation #hijikata biyori #Hijikata Toshizou #Kazama Chikage

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watercolorgalore · 2 years

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Watercoloring: Ruling Over Your Own Fantasy Kingdom (Narrating Personal Interest)

Note: I drew this elven archer, inspired by Legolas from The Lord of the Rings. Pretty basic and typical designs for this character. My initials and date of creation is there, as with all my other illustrations later on. It reminded me of that classic adventure comedy film Robin Hood: Men in Tights.

I’ve always been a fan of sword and sorcery and high fantasy movies like Conan the Barbarian and The Lord of the Rings. I also like reading dark fantasy works from Miura’s Berserk series and adaptations of Shakespeare’s Richard III. And I am absolutely obsessed over western role-playing games namely The Elder Scrolls and Dragon Age series ever since they first release. I enjoy them so much that it was inevitable for me to create my own imagery of dreadful warriors battling against demonic creatures, spirit-conjuring mages casting elemental magics or elusive elves cowering in mystical forests.

To me, the best things about drawing villains, heroes and fantasy landscapes is that there are no rules (besides basics of perspective and anatomy of course). I believe no one can tell me the sword I have drawn is incorrect or the castle I erected looked physically impossible to hold itself or that the beast I have created is inaccurate because, realistically, none of it exists. Simply a creation of my own imagination. A single picture that anyone creates can tell a story or give meaningful insights of what they intend to convey, from the most obvious portions to the slightest details. Simplistic ideas are always acceptable since they take less effort and avoid much hassle. A single picture is easier to reference than trying to remember a specific scene from a movie as I would put it.

Watercoloring with pencils is my preferred style of painting as it allows me to bring out different coloring effects. The transparent-like feel and delicate handling of the wet brush blending in and automatically changing the colors is mesmerizing. Almost hypnotic even. Debatable perhaps, but I often hear that water is the most powerful element.

However, I admit it is not as easy as it sounds because certain mistakes are irreversible. Too much water might spoil all your hard work. And that’s why I like this painting method. It’s good to learn from your errors as the experience helps you improve and discover alternative ways to manipulate watercolors. And with fantasy, realism is limited so that gives me freedom to fluidly paint without worrying how it should look like. Watercoloring is about taking risks.

I strongly believe that painting is more about interpreting the world, or even better; improving it. It’s an opportunity to reimagine the world around you to your liking albeit idealistic. Painting simply convey messages to stimulate emotions. It can be impressive but inefficient because when compared to moving images from videos or films, paintings and still drawings stay put and does not progress the story behind it unless if it were in series like comics and visual novels.

#watercolor #traditional art #fantasy #elf #elves #archer

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Text

Draw your swords, pt.4

Summary: In his attempt to get to know his wife, the Darkling realizes he might be getting too close.

Warnings: angst, swearing, sexual innuendoes, slightest bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three

=================================

Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. Not only did she agonize over the slightest possibility of his words being true, but the lingering of his lips on hers even hours after they’ve left tormented her mind. Instead of sleeping, she sat outside in the darkness with nothing but stars to keep her company. She shuddered with the cold wind as it chilled her, even the kefta didn’t protect her as well as she thought it would.

Sighing, she smiled up at the night sky, watching the stars in their celestial dance. It’s undeniable, she’s envious of them – their freedom is undisputed, their beauty unmatched by anything earthly. No one can force a star to marriage, no one can dull its brightness.

“Are you alright?” Genya spoke up, startling Y/N into a loud gasp.

Turning around, Y/N giggles in slight panic, a hand resting on her chest. “You scared me!”

“I didn’t mean to”, she chuckles too, coming closer to Y/N who let out a relieved sigh, only to look up once again.

“I couldn’t sleep”, she explains, “So I came here to watch the stars.”

“Most people are afraid of the dark”, Genya raised an eyebrow as she fixed her gaze on Y/N instead. She studied her carefully, unsure if she should invest all her hopes and dreams in her – no matter how striking she is.

“Oh, I’m scared of the dark!” Y/N exclaims, pointing up at the sky, “But the night sky is littered with lanterns, meant to guide you home. My mom always told me to look up whenever I feel lost, because the stars will help me find answers to any worry.”

Pursing her lips, Genya frowned, “Does that mean you doubt your plan?”

“No”, Y/N replied with haste, “I am simply trying to understand some of the chess pieces I thought I had figured out.”

Looking back at the Palace, Y/N’s eyes found the window of her room in an instant. A dark figure passed by it, the candlelight revealing the figure is pacing.

“He’s not a bad man, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Holding her breath, Y/N’s eyes find amber ones, “That’s not what I’ve heard. His deeds have spoken plenty about the strength of his character.”

“He’s fighting a war, not just with the outsiders, not just your father, but those on our side as well.” Pausing, Genya steps before her, “Do you know what they call him?”

“The Darkling”, she states, “A starless saint, a demon, a shadow king.”

“So many of those names are meant to demonize him, to shun him from society simply for the power he was born with”, licking her lips, Genya reaches for Y/N’s hand. “His own people are dying simply for who they’re born as – humans, Shu, Druskelle, they’re all sharpening their swords. If he’s not feared, we’re all dead.”

Nibbling on her lower lip, Y/N closed her eyes. Exhaling, she faced Genya once more.

“Does that mean I should applaud him for the way he’s treated the First army so far? How can you defend him when he’s the one who brought you here…to the emperor?”

Retracting her hand, Genya flashed a smile – one too strained to be believable. “He tried to defend me and got himself punished for it. So I��m here and I’m telling you to give him a chance.” Walking past Y/N, Genya stops just a few paces behind her, “He might surprise you.”

All the things Genya said became faint echoes inside Y/N’s head. When she returned to the room, she was ready for a new quarrel with Kirigan. Despite her readiness, he was sound asleep as she slipped her kefta off. With trembling fingers, she lifted the comforter only to stifle a laugh upon a surprising sight. Not only had there been a pillow to separate them, but three to ensure she wouldn’t accidentally roll on his side during the night. Perhaps she did smother him the night before and for once, she didn’t feel ashamed, rather satisfied. If he’s so insistent on sharing a bed, why would she make it any easier on him?

Tossing the pillows aside, she slid onto his side. Pressing her lips in a thin line, she tried to wrap an arm around his middle, but she couldn’t do it with her heart clenching wildly inside her chest. She drew back, forming tight fists at her side as she glared up at the canopy in frustration. If she’s going to play well and win, she’ll have to swallow her pride and withstand some discomfort.

Staring daggers at the back of his head, Y/N held her breath as she half climbed atop of Kirigan. Waiting to see if he’ll wake, Y/N finally released a shuddered breath. Burying her nose in the crook of his neck, she finally felt herself warm up after being outside for so long.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled his scent – woodsy and clean as if he had just had a bath. She never realized it before, but he smelled the same way on their wedding day…and night. But also earlier when he was pressed against her, devouring her mouth. Just the thought of his arms around her, his tall frame against her and the feverish kiss they’ve shared had caused her heartbeat to quicken with no shame.

And while she drifted off, she failed to realize something else – the Darkling was very much awake.

Instead of moving away when he felt a weight atop of him, he struggled to even his breathing. She smelled like spring, like lilacs and oddly enough, he enjoyed it. Most times, he’d crinkle his nose in disgust for strong, flowery scents made him nauseous, but she didn’t have the heavy, unbearably thick air of perfume cling to her – it felt like it’s her natural scent.

Smiling, the Darkling allowed himself to relax once her breathing calmed down and while her hands and feet felt like icicles, her cold nose brought most of the discomfort. Once she warmed up, by stealing his body heat, the Darkling began to drift away too. After all, he was winning.

A single ray of sunshine came through the window, its heat tickling Y/N’s nose. Sleepily, she brushed at it then tried to turn away, but something blocked her way. She lazily opened her eyes and saw the strange bed canopy overhead. When she remembered where she was and how she fell asleep last night, she felt her face grow hot as blood rushed to her cheeks. Even her body seemed to blush. She moved her head toward the other side of the bed and looked at where her husband’s supposed to be, yet he was gone – only the pillows she could have sworn she removed remained.

There was no way of knowing it, but each morning, the Darkling opened his eyes and looked at her first. No matter if she was drooling or her hair matted on her face, he quite enjoyed his view. She seemed gentle, almost like a saint sent to remind him light can exist along with darkness he’s been shrouded in.

Disgruntled, she sat up and huffed. She wanted to wake up at the same time as he did. One, she wanted to see his reaction and laugh, two, she really wanted to discuss the kiss from before. Then again, she just wanted to see the general at his most vulnerable state – waking up disheveled, just like any human would. His perfectly styled hair unnerved her and she couldn’t help but wonder if Genya used her power on it because she had never once seen a hair out of place, not even after their kiss.

For the rest of the day, Y/N tried to catch him alone. Unfortunately, she barely saw her husband at all. A fleeting glance of acknowledgement was all she received as they passed each other in the hall, both surrounded by others.

At night, she laid awake in hopes of speaking to him before bed. The faint candlelight on the bedside table kept the darkness away, relieving her fear. Would he laugh at her if she admitted to it? After all, isn’t he the one who can create darkness out of thin air? Perhaps he’d shroud her with it and prove he truly is cruel, but she had no way of being sure. He must never know of it and she truly hoped never to see his display of power.

Lost in her thoughts, she blinked and it was morning.

Wide eyed, she sat up and looked to his side. It was unmade, the pillow dented right where his head was and yet she can’t remember hearing him arrive in the night or leave in the morning. She never does.

“Fuck”, she mutters under her breath as she slams a fist in his pillow. Grunting, she buries her face into it, muffling her frustrated scream.

“Are you done?” Genya frowned at her, waiting by the door while Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs into a pillow.

“YOU’VE GOT TO STOP SNEAKING UP ON ME!”

Scoffing, Genya rolled her eyes. “You need to be more perceptive about your surroundings.”

A knock on the door had startled them both, enough for them to both let out a strangled scream. The door opened before either of them gave the permission and once they realized who it was that entered, they didn’t need a reason as to why.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The Darkling grinned at his wife who narrowed her eyes at him immediately.

“Your voice gives me a headache”, Y/N complains.

Squinting at her, the Darkling wondered if a woman could be so infuriating without wielding some mystic power to make her so.

“I believe you agreed to ride with me.”

“Oh”, Genya smirks, “She’ll ride you –“, covering her mouth, Genya giggles as she sees Y/N’s glare is on her, “I meant, with you.”

“I’ve prepared the horses”, he waited for her to respond, to give him reason to dislike her yet she didn’t.

“I will keep my word”, Y/N stood with her formidable gaze on his. She dared not look at his lips for they brought memories and self-loathing she’d rather avoid. After all, what kind of a woman quivers for her enemies touch?

“Wonderful”, he smirks, “I’ll wait for you to dress.”

Remaining in his spot, his hands at his sides, Kirigan raised his eyebrows as both women stared at him.

“Get out”, Y/N waves him off and he clicks his tongue.

“You may not let me touch you, but I can look.”

Angry, she narrowed her eyes at him, “That didn’t stop you from pinning me to a door.”

Genya’s eyes widen, pressing her lips to stop herself from commenting on their little exchange.

Shrugging, he stepped closer. His eyes raked over her body, the nightgown leaving little to imagination. “You didn’t seem to protest”, he leans in, “Especially since you proved you could easily escape me.”

Swallowing thickly, she exhaled through her nose. She couldn’t argue with that, now could she? If she wished, she could have forced him to unhand her. She could have fought him, but she didn’t. She may have been startled when he kissed her but she barely tried to push him away and still, when she had the option to back away, she was the one leaning in for a kiss when he lifted her onto the table. He played a game with her and she lost that day and now he gets to be smug about it.

“As your husband, I promise to protect you from all others. If anyone harms you, they’ll part with their life. For that alone, I deserve an occasional view.”

Winking, he takes a step back and sends a smile in Genya’s direction before turning on his heel and walking out.

“YOU KISSED HIM?!”

Groaning, Y/N throws her head back, “Sort of. It’s more like he kissed me and I didn’t fight him on it.”

“So, does this mean you like him?” Wiggling her eyebrows, Genya squealed in excitement. “Are you bringing him on this plan of yours?”

Holding out her hand, Y/N shook her head, “No, no and no. I don’t trust him one bit and he isn’t exactly a man who’d go along with it.” Exhaling loudly, Y/N decided, “He must be removed along with the emperor.”

When she walked outside, Y/N breath was caught in her throat. The sight of the general on a horse truly felt like a fabrication. Never had she seen a man as majestic as him, as proud and aggravatingly cocky all at once. With his black kefta and the cape, he rode on a black stallion as if he were a mere extension of his will.

She wasted no more time in mounting her white mare, chasing after the Darkling who seemed to only then notice he’s not alone.

Her horse was not above average size, but she was alert and slender-limbed. Her muscles and good nature allowed Y/N to keep up a fairly good pace, never too far behind the black stallion her husband rode. The stallion was clearly riled up, competitive by nature. Anyone else on its back would be a great danger for the rider, but he clearly trusted Kirigan.

The wind blew her hair back and the cold was rather unforgiving on her skin. Passing him narrowly once they entered the woods, she didn’t look back. Instead, she gripped the reigns tighter and continued to breathe as the cold air made her mouth dry and throat scratchy.

Feeling his gaze on her, she relents, looking back at him.

“Where’s your coat?!” He shouted after her and only then did she realize it must have fallen off. Genya made it pretty for a romantic ride, not quite as practical for a race. But that’s not what truly made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. The hint of worry laced in the words of an angry general is what betrayed him and she couldn’t help but wonder – what if it’s more than just lust for him?

“It was slowing me down”, she couldn’t suppress a victorious smile just as he couldn’t suppress an annoyed grunt. Yet they both slowed down, neither of them speaking as they turned around and headed straight to the palace.

“You’re an avid rider.” The general conceded as he dismounted. Before she could blink, he was beside her, his hands on her hips as he pulled her of the horse and effectively stole her breath away.

The rosy colored cheeks left him defenseless as he stared at her too, a little too intently for it to be innocent. Taking her hands in his, he brought them up to his mouth, blowing at them. She kept her gaze at him, undoubtedly in shock as her cold hands started to tingle with the warmth of his breath.

“I’ll have to leave for a few days”, he speaks before she has a chance. “You’ll have the bed all to yourself.”

“Don’t I have to come? If it concerns my peo –“, she began, but he silenced her.

“It’s got nothing to do with the army. I’m merely doing an errand for the emperor.”

Looking at her hands still in his, she pursed her lips. “Doesn’t he have enough servants to do his bidding?”

A breathless chuckle escapes him, “Why? Will you miss me?”

Rolling her eyes, she snorts, “Why? Do you fancy yourself as someone of importance?”

He looked at her like she's the Sun, angrily squinting at every second she spent in his presence. He never looked at her other than in frustration. At least she thought so. It’s how he looked at her a month ago when they first met on a field stained with Druskelle blood. He stood there, alone and victorious as she stepped over the bodies after arriving on this side of the fold with a Sandskiff.

All of their conversations were arguments – she’d narrow her eyes and he’s squint at her, throwing jabs at each other every chance they get, but this felt different. Something changed after the wedding and she wasn’t entirely sure what.

Achingly aware of their closeness, she couldn’t help but ask. "What is this between us?"

Pausing, he looked at her with wonder. If he could put it to words, it wouldn’t make any sense. His mind could hardly fathom what exactly she meant to him other than being a nuisance, but he didn’t exactly hate her as he believed at first when he admittedly hoped she’d find herself eaten by Volcra while crossing the Shadow fold. What he hated was not having a choice. He hated how arrogant she is and how little respect she has for her superiors. He especially hated her mortality, her species and all the atrocities they’ve committed against him and his kind.

He didn’t love her, that he was sure of. He couldn’t possibly care for her either. Lust, winning this game, feeding his ego by having Zlatan’s daughter at his feet is what he longed for. So no, he didn’t love her, but a part of him feared he might love her in time. For the first time in a very, very long time, the Darkling had a fear and it carried her name.

Perhaps that’s why he reacted the way he did when she asked him if there is something between them.

"Nothing." He grabbed the back of her neck, his lips pressing against hers hard.

He was right, she realized. There was nothing between them, nothing between their lips, not even air.

Pulling away, he smirks as she inhales sharply.

"Did you feel a connection?" He looks her in the eye, his lips set in a firm line.

"Yes", she whispers shakily.

His eyes harden as an ache in his chest reminds him of his fear. Someone like him must give up anything he could possibly love for the loss and disappointment are inevitable. She’s mortal, an enemy behind his borders he can never trust. So he will shut his heart out. Love is not an option for the Darkling, he reminds himself. The last time he allowed himself to love was also the day his heart turned to stone. So, he will not love her and she will not love him. He will destroy that possibility, cut any ties that bind them. Lust is the only thing he will let fester.

Leaning in, his lips brush hers softly as he whispers against them, "That's why you're a fool." Stepping back, he heard her gulp. “The connection you feel is lust, that’s all we have and it’s all we will ever have. Accept it.”

“Is that true or are you just afraid?!” Her voice wavers and she instinctively steps toward him, asserting dominance she felt was lost.

“General”, Ivan calls out, just in case Kirigan needed an excuse to leave.

“Afraid?” The Darkling chuckles dryly, averting his gaze to Ivan who waited for him at the entrance. “I’m not afraid of anything”, he remarks as his eyes lock on her lips again, ��Certainly not of my wife.”

As he stepped back, the Darkling caught the strangest look in her eyes. It looked like clarity, total and complete sobriety from the ecstasy his presence gave her. She stood proud, despite the self-loathing in her previously warm eyes that slowly turned them back to the ice she held when she first laid her eyes on him.

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Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart

Part 5

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #shadow and bone #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #aleksander kirigan #aleksander x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling au #the darkling fanfiction #the Darkling fic

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

for the prompts: NMJ/JC - Everyone with a functioning brain cell can see that JC just needs someone to tell him he’s doing a good job. And if WWX isn’t stepping up? Well, NMJ definitely will. (Preferably smut and/or fluff) Thank you! ❤️

Compliments - ao3

It started in anger, out of spite.

Traditionally, the world took this to be a bad thing, but in all honesty the vast majority of projects in the Nie sect were started that way – they inherited fiery tempers and spiteful personalities from their ancestors along with their saber cultivation traditions – and it didn’t always turn out badly. There were any number of buildings, techniques, or technological innovations in the Unclean Realm that had started life as a furious fuck you to someone and only turned into something worthwhile about halfway through, once the person involved had calmed down enough to think about what they were doing, realize they were already committed, and then shrug and carry on forward because there was no point in stopping a charge midway.

What Nie Mingjue meant was: there was precedent.

He liked to think it started with Jiang Fengmian, but if Nie Mingjue was being honest with himself, it started back in the Unclean Realm when Nie Huaisang had told him, quite casually over dinner, that he thought that the female cultivator in his class was very pretty and that he’d be happy to marry her.

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue had said, very intelligently. “Huaisang, you’re seven.”

Nie Huaisang had not seen the problem. Instead, he explained very forthrightly that it was only right that he start thinking early on about his marriage, as getting married and having children would be his great contribution to the sect on account of being useless good-for-nothing unfit for anything else –

“Wait,” Nie Mingjue said. “Who told you that?!”

Nie Huaisang claimed he had deduced it.

Nie Mingjue claimed that Nie Huaisang was full of bullshit, and also that he wasn’t good-for-nothing even if he wasn’t good at saber, and anyway even if he was a total good-for-nothing he was still Nie Mingjue’s good-for-nothing and no one had better say a single damn word against him or Nie Mingjue would bite them.

“I meant stab them!” he explained, far too late; Nie Huaisang was already rolling around laughing to the point of tears. “I have a saber. I can stab people! I’m actually very scary, you know!”

Nie Huaisang hadn’t believed him one bit and had carried on, seemingly at peace and forgetting everything, but Nie Mingjue had gone seeking advice from all of his elders and counselors and the more dependable senior disciples of his sect, abruptly terrified that he was permanently damaging Nie Huaisang by raising him the wrong way or something. Didn’t children need encouragement at that age? Weren’t they all young and tender peaches liable to be bruised at the slightest glance or young sprouts that needed to be sheltered from the harsh wind lest they grow up crooked?

Everyone assured him that children were hardier than they appeared, flexible and capable of bouncing back from just about anything. He'd pressed, though, pointing out that even the most flexible wood would eventually form a crack in the face of a vicious hurricane, and in the end they'd admitted that it was better to avoid applying too much pressure at too young an age, that a child squeezed too hard or not hard enough might develop neuroses that would hinder them in the future.

They mostly tried not to look at him when they said that, presumably thinking to themselves that Nie Mingjue was little more than a child himself and had already been subject to the worst pressures possible, which would undoubtedly result in who knows what future issues, but he hadn’t paid that part any mind. As far as he was concerned, his life was already a loss – he had sworn to take revenge for his father, to make that ancient monster Wen Ruohan pay with his life for what he had done and furthermore he'd sworn to pay back the blood debt in full before any of that burden passed to Nie Huaisang.

Letting Nie Huaisang grow up happy – that was what mattered.

Letting him be insulted when Nie Mingjue wasn’t looking played no part in that plan. If Nie Huaisang were going to be insulted, let it be by outsiders who he wouldn’t need to care about! Within their Nie sect, at minimum, he should be doted upon and honored, or else those responsible would have to explain themselves to Nie Mingjue.

Those dark thoughts still lingering in his mind, he had gone to the Lotus Pier for a discussion conference, and that, perhaps, was where it really started.

Rumor had already made the entire cultivation world aware that Jiang Fengmian had found the orphaned son of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze, and that he had taken him into his home as his ward, allowing him to become a Jiang sect disciple – treating him almost as one of the family, even. That much was known, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Jiang Fengmian proudly introduced him or even more proudly showed him off, praising him to the high heavens.

What did come as a surprise was how little he praised his own son standing beside him, despite them being only a few days apart in age. It was as if Jiang Fengmian had simply forgotten that such a creature existed, much less that he had himself contributed to its spawning, and the constant looks of hope – invariably crushed – the child sent him made it clear that the present situation had been going on for some time.

Fuck you, Nie Mingjue thought, seeing red, seeing instead Nie Huaisang in his failed saber classes, struggling so desperately to keep up with the rest even though his body wouldn’t allow for it, being told he was useless and a good-for-nothing and fit for nothing but marriage. Fuck you, Jiang Fengmian.

He couldn’t say that, of course.

So instead he said, “Excellent stance,” to the child, who'd received the courtesy name Wanyin but seemed to be universally called Jiang Cheng. “Do you know the others in the set?”

Jiang Cheng, staring at him, very slowly nodded, and demonstrated them.

“Absolutely perfect,” Nie Mingjue said loudly, drawing attention to himself with his over-loud voice that everyone would automatically forgive on account on him being both a Nie and a young man. “You can see how hard you’ve worked at it, and it has paid off handsomely. You are very lucky in your son, Sect Leader Jiang.”

“…thank you,” Jiang Fengmian said, a little bemused at being interrupted. He’d been talking yet again about Wei Wuxian’s brilliance at picking up the sword again after years of living on the streets without practice, even though at the moment the smiling boy's admittedly impressive skills were still largely wild and undisciplined.

Nie Mingjue nodded, and said: “When exactly did you say the opening festivities would be starting?”

Jiang Fengmian had clearly forgotten about that in his enthusiasm, so he quickly hurried back to the actual subject at hand and the discussion conference was started in earnest.

It was almost enough to allow Nie Mingjue to forget the matter and put it behind him.

Or, it would have been, if only Jiang Fengmian hadn’t continued to insert praise for Wei Wuxian at every possible instance – it was as if he were the man’s first-born son, rather than another person’s child.

Irritated beyond belief, Nie Mingjue started complimenting Jiang Cheng every time Jiang Fengmian said something nice about Wei Wuxian, and he made sure to keep his compliments accurate: he was a hard worker, dedicated and sincere, thoughtful, clever, not overly arrogant…

“Wei Wuxian came up with his own ideas for a sword style already,” Jiang Fengmian claimed at one point. “You can see him on the training ground now, practicing it – take a look!”

Nie Mingjue picked up a stone and flicked it over with his fingers, making Wei Wuxian jump half a chi into the air and nearly fall on his ass.

“Weak foundation, and he over-commits,” he analyzed dryly, because it was true, and because no one else was saying it. He didn't make it any harsher than it had to be: he had nothing against the boy himself, of course; it was only that he knew from experience that it was much easier to be the one being complimented than the one not. “He’s got his head so high in the clouds that his feet are barely touching the ground – the weakest fierce corpse would knock him flat as a pancake with a childish style like that. He’d be better off sticking with orthodox or he’ll end up in real trouble one day.”

“Sect Leader Nie, really,” Jiang Fengmian said disapprovingly. “He’s only nine.”

“Old enough to pick up bad habits,” Nie Mingjue retorted. “Your son’s the same age and he’s as steady as a rock. If Jiang Cheng keeps going as he is, he’ll have a strong enough base to outlast the fiercest storm.”

“A rock has no imagination,” Jiang Fengmian said, and was he actually arguing that his son was inferior? Out loud, in front of outsiders? Did the man have no shame? “Mingjue, you’re young, but you must know that my Jiang sect prizes freedom and creativity as the highest virtue –”

“Would you rather build a house using a firework or a foundation stone?” Nie Mingjue asked, doing his best not to outwardly bristle at the condescendingly intimate use of his name by someone who might be technically his elder but legally his equal. “Tell me, Fengmian, does your Jiang sect’s acclaimed ‘freedom’ only allow for people to be as fluid as the river and not as steady as the earth?”

Jiang Fengmian faltered, clearly not knowing how to answer that.

Nie Mingjue raised his hands in a sarcastic salute: “As the leader of a sect whose style is based on a grounded foundation, I would be very happy if you would educate me in your wisdom. No doubt my peers would benefit as well.”

Perhaps it was at that point that Jiang Fengmian realized that his words could be misinterpreted as an insult to all the sects whose styles were less free-flowing than the Jiang – just about all of them except for maybe the Lan and their subsidiary sects, given their preference for techniques modeled on the wind over the water – and moreover that this was a discussion conference, where every word was political, and that a great deal of people were glaring balefully at him. He hastily moved the conversation onwards, and left the subject of his sons for another day.

Later that evening, Madame Yu came over to where Nie Mingjue was nursing a bowl of very fine wine that he didn’t especially feel like consuming. Before he could start worrying about the Purple Spider’s intentions, she said, voice stiff, “Your words regarding my son are too kind. His skills are still inferior; he has a great deal of progress yet to be made.”

“He’s only nine,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling mortified that she’d noticed his little temper tantrum, which he had belatedly realized was probably extremely obvious. “Anyway, I wasn't lying. He has a good foundation; he’ll be a fearsome cultivator one day, there’s no doubt. I only said what I saw.”

“You didn’t comment about Wei Wuxian,” she said. “You must have noticed his genius.”

“Geniuses don’t need to be praised overmuch,” Nie Mingjue said. He himself had been termed a genius by his teachers, and he’d hated every single moment of it – couldn’t he just be good at things without having people fall all over themselves to compliment him? He’d enjoyed it at the start, but after a while it had started to wear on him; he was expected to be a genius in all things, and being simply ordinary was suddenly seen as failing. “It’s the ones that have to work hard that do, or else they’ll be discouraged…comparing someone to another person’s child works as a spur to a certain extent, but after a while it loses its potency as a tool.”

Your husband is a fucking idiot, he didn’t say. It’s his own son! How could he speak like that about him? Shouldn’t he be holding him in his palms like a gentle flame, protecting him from the wind and rain? How can he bear to scold his son when he hasn't shown that the scolding is meant for his benefit?

“Perhaps,” Madame Yu said, but it was clear on her face that she wasn’t about to start taking parenting advice from a half-grown sprout like Nie Mingjue. “Nevertheless, your words were kind.”

She swept away after that, much to his relief. He shook his head and daydreamed about a magic tool that would make this whole nightmarish experience go by that much quicker.

In the end, it went by at the same speed it always did. It could have ended there, but Nie Mingjue kept up the habit of blatantly complimenting Jiang Cheng in future sect conferences as well, if only because it clearly irritated Jiang Fengmian – less because Nie Mingjue was praising his son and more because it was so obviously meant as an indirect critique of Jiang Fengmian’s skills as a parent or sect leader, and moreover it reminded all the other sects of that unfortunate interchange and made them less inclined to listen to him – and of course, because, well, once you’ve started a charge, you had to finish it even if you came to your senses about halfway through.

He made sure to keep it proportionate, of course, since there was nothing worse than false praise. He didn’t really mean anything by it, other than the half-formed thought that someone ought to be doing it – that the boy should know that someone looked at him and Wei Wuxian and remembered to praise him first. Nie Mingjue praised Wei Wuxian too, of course, since the boy often deserved it; it was only that he made a particular point not to forget about Jiang Cheng, either.

(He also made sure the other sect leaders saw how well the technique could be used to fluster Jiang Fengmian, an intrusion into his personal life that could be masked in perfect politeness, and several of them picked up the same tact, though less consistently than Nie Mingjue – Sect Leaders Jin and Wen, naturally, always looking for a weakness, but interestingly enough also Lan Qiren, who was normally above such petty maneuvers. Possibly he was actually just complimenting Jiang Cheng because he sincerely approved of him.)

He didn’t think much of it.

Nie Mingjue didn’t think much of it during the other discussion conferences, or when he came to the Cloud Recesses to pick up Nie Huaisang, who had – amazingly – actually managed to pass this time, although the expression on Lan Qiren’s face suggested the pass might have more to do with the other sect leader’s desire to never see Nie Huaisang haunt his classroom ever again.

“You know what, don’t tell me. Tell me….hm…how did Jiang Wanyin do?” Nie Mingjue asked, hand over his eyes as if it could forestall the headache. “He’s a bright boy, and knows how to put his mind to something when he wants. Tell me about him instead, it’ll be less depressing.”

“He’s very bright,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Very thoughtful, and very thorough. He sometimes errs towards conservatism out of fear of giving the wrong answer, but that’s just a matter of confidence; his thinking is very good. He’s very clear-sighted as long as the matter is logical, rather than emotional.”

“No surprise,” Nie Mingjue grunted. “He’ll be a sect leader worthy of respect, in his time.”

When he’s rid of that father of his dragging him down, he thought ungraciously, and he saw Lan Qiren bob his head in a sharp nod of unspoken agreement.

“All right,” he said. “I’m adequately fortified now. Tell me about Huaisang.”

Lan Qiren gave him a look of profound sympathy.

It wasn’t until much later, during the Sunshot Campaign, that it was first called to his attention – by Jiang Cheng himself, oddly enough.

“Why do you keep doing that?” he hissed, having stayed behind after one of their meetings.

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Doing – what?”

“You – you said – about me…!”

Nie Mingjue tried to recall what he’d said during the meeting just now. “That you – were doing an excellent job while facing much higher level of obstacles than everyone else?” he hazarded, because he had said something like that. “Or was it the bit about how if any of them had needed to rebuild their sect and fight at the same time, we’d all be doomed because they couldn’t multitask for shit?”

Yeah, it was probably that one.

“I didn’t mean any offense by referencing what happened to your sect,” he said, hoping to explain. “It was only –”

“I didn’t take offense,” Jiang Cheng mumbled. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but – it happened, everyone knows that it happened, not talking about it isn’t going to make it not have happened. That’s not what I meant…why do you keep saying such nice things about me?”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Because they’re true?”

Jiang Cheng’s cheeks flushed red. “You’ve always said nice things about me. Ever since I was a little kid – every time you saw me, at the discussion conferences, or the Cloud Recesses, or even in your letters to my father…”

He had in fact done that.

“I just want to know why. Is it – my father’s not around, you can’t be doing it just to piss him off, even though I know that was part of it. Why me?”

Nie Mingjue coughed a little, having not realized that Jiang Cheng had noticed. Or possibly even overheard, in regards to the Cloud Recesses. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of the other person’s child,” he said, and Jiang Cheng nodded his head sharply, clearly thinking of Wei Wuxian. “You’re Huaisang’s.”

“Me?” Jiang Cheng seemed unduly vulnerable when he asked. “You compare him – to me?”

“It’s amazing he tolerated you at the Cloud Recesses,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. In fact, his brother had all but declared war on Jiang Cheng in absentia on account of all Nie Mingjue’s comments, only for his first letter home from the Cloud Recesses that year to be I see why you like him! He’s cute! A perfect match for you! because he’d apparently decided that Nie Mingjue had a crush on the boy.

Which he certainly hadn’t – at least not when he’d been that age, anyway. Jiang Cheng had grown up to embody every single one of the compliments Nie Mingjue had paid him when he’d been younger, especially with the maturity and natural aura of command that came to him after his personal tragedy.

“But why…you knew Wei Wuxian about as well as you knew me.”

Nie Mingjue snorted. “And that would have helped Huaisang how, exactly? If I wanted to compare him with someone who picked things up the first time they saw it, I wouldn’t need to go outside the Nie sect for that – I was also considered a genius when I was young. It’s no failing to be born without a vast and unending natural talent; Huaisang’s issue has always been his unwillingness to put in the effort.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him.

“Anyway, your father was so blinded by his adoration for Wei Wuxian that he overlooked your merits, which are different but no less impressive,” Nie Mingjue added. “As someone who was trying to figure out how to raise a child, it irritated me; I thought someone ought to make it clear to you that you were seen.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice strangely hoarse. “Yes, you – you succeeded.”

He paused for a moment, meeting Nie Mingjue’s eyes intently, and then abruptly said, “I’ll be leaving,” and dashed out.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he should stop or not. Jiang Cheng had said he wasn’t offended…anyway, it was a fixed habit by now. He’d been doing it for over half his life! He couldn’t stop that easily! It would be like trying to stop his temper, or a charge – there was nothing for it.

Jiang Cheng would just have to live with a few compliments.

“Wow, you’re an idiot,” Nie Huaisang said when he told him about the incident, months later while he was lying in bed, recovering from the disaster that had been the end of the war. “I’ll fix this.”

“Fix what?”

“I’m going to tell him you’re dying,” Nie Huaisang decided.

“You’re going to do what?!”

“Stay in bed, da-ge! Doctor’s orders!”

The Nie sect chief doctor was an extremely terrifying person. Nie Mingjue stayed in bed.

Some time later, Jiang Cheng stormed in, face pale.

“Huaisang’s a rotten liar and I’m going to be fine,” Nie Mingjue said at once.

Jiang Cheng stopped mid-storm, and abruptly deflated. “Really?”

“Really. I would’ve stopped him, but I’m stuck in bed for the moment.”

Jiang Cheng took a seat next to him. “That sounds serious. You shouldn’t underestimate war wounds, especially given your sect’s tendency towards qi deviations...”

“Compassionate as well,” Nie Mingjue teased. “I’ll have to add that to the rotation of compliments.”

Jiang Cheng flushed red. “You’re…planning on continuing?”

“For the rest of my life, however short it might be,” Nie Mingjue said, because he was an honest person, even when it was inconvenient. He was going to explain about the habit, and the concept of stopping mid-charge, but he didn’t manage to start before Jiang Cheng grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up into a kiss.

After that, he figured that maybe explaining that part of it wasn’t necessary. He might be slow on the uptake, but he wasn’t actually stupid.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jiang cheng #jiang fengmian #lan qiren #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #compliments

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totiredtowrite · 3 years

Note

Nonononono hear me out right? Imagine Oikawa, one of the most powerful demons around, snags a reader who wants to be a hero and just kind of says 'aight this ones mine now'

Powerless

Warnings - Mentions of killing, the word blade, a religious joke here or there, cursing, referenced nsfw, the req was short but I managed to make this long af, sorry if the ending is trash :(, might do a part 2

Note: I have one mood and this is it

Male Reader - Fem Readers DNI, Respect The Boundaries of the Writers. ✨This isn't about you✨

Demon King Oikawa Tooru.

Infamous for a...multitude of things. For one, his power. Two, the astounding number of people who lust after him. Cults and chapels have been erected in his favour, solely because of his attraction. Nobodies even sure if he's a demon of lust at this point, or if he's just naturally handsome.

And lastly, of course, his ego. His power gives him a big head, though that isn't undeserved. He's just as cocky as he's allowed to be. While it may seem like overkill to some people, they'll quickly find that all of his self conceit is well earned.

Of course, that makes him a big target. Any heroes career would be made if they could kill the demon king. Hell, some get publicity just by returning alive. Young, naive, aspiring heroes want to get his head on a platter more than anything.

And, of course, you were no exception.

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"I just don't think you're cut out for this, son."

At first you'd scoffed. Chalked it up to your mentor being crazy. After all, he was the one who trained you for this!

Nearing the end of the dead forest though, you were starting to wish that you'd listened to him. The energy, the atmosphere, felt like it was wrapping around your neck. You could almost see the dark tendrils around your throat.

The whispers of the forest- prominent, though unintelligible- faded the farther you got from the tree line. Anyone with eyes, ears, or even a nose could tell how corrupt the land was here. Dead birds, ravens to be exact, littered the grounds. Every few yards, you had to step over or around a carcass.

Your torch, near burnt out, clattered to the ground.

There wasn't any need for it anymore, the dim sunset illuminating the deathly area. A small shudder tore through your body. It's like you could feel eyes on you, even in the obviously vacated expanse.

The castle wasn't any better.

Cracked and broken cobblestone lined the pathway up to the doors, travelling up a rather steep hill. From where you stood, you could see the different layers. True to it's unholy resident, the castle was make of dark brick and stone. Sharp, jagged pillars jutted up at the tips of towers, pyres in small heaps littering the area. Some looked as if they were already burnt.

Your hand drifted to your side. There your sword hung, sheathed tightly in a leather casing. The sword was all you really needed, though a couple extra daggers and limited magic items were helpful. After all, it was the demon king. Just a sword wasn't going to kill him off.

You smiled at the thought of your sword being framed when you became a well-known hero, famous for being the blade to deliver the finishing blow.

Those thoughts were quickly disrupted as a bird fell to the ground at your feet.

You grimaced, gently kicking the corpse out of the way and continuing on the rocky cobblestone path. There hasn't been any sign of people for the last two miles. You knew that there was an immensely powerful demon king not even twenty minutes away from you, but it felt like there was nobody for miles on end.

Obviously though, no sane person would get as close to this place as you were.

With one final, (and tentative) step, you arrived at the front door. It felt like any and all sound was swallowed by the walls, all of your senses instantly on edge. Nothing felt right here. It almost made you want to turn around, but you've already made it this far. It would make no sense.

Drawing in another shaky breath, your hand made its way to the door handle. Not much skin touched it through your gloves, yet you could just sense how wrong it felt.

You could only hope that the next time you see these doors, you'd still have your head.

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Nobody told Oikawa that being the demon king would be so...boring.

As opposed to what everyone thinks, it's actually rather monotonous. Wake up, go seduce some townspeople, maybe burn a village or two, kill some heroes who come by, and repeat. Nothing happened that he didn't expect anymore.

Hell, it's gotten to the point where he just smites heroes before they even finish their little speech!

In his defense though, their speeches were starting to sound the same. All the "you are an ungodly creature of darkness"s and "I must avenge my family"s just felt the exact same. They only wanted to kill him for the publicity, the bounty, or some stupid thing about their families legacy. He's so bored.

His thoughts were quickly interrupted, (thank god), by the sound of footsteps pounding on the floor. All at once the door to the throne room swung open, a sweating and panting Kuroo standing there. His black hair was wind tousled, sweat glinting on his forehead.

"Wow," Oikawa scoffed. "Somethings got you running."

Kuroo stood up straight, shrugging and attempting to appear collected. "What do you mean?"

Oikawa raised his brows.

"Right, there's a hero in the castle." Kuroo chuckled awkwardly. "Want us to take care of him?"

Oikawa perked up. Another hero? Really? He wasn't looking forward to doing the same dance again, though maybe this time it would be slightly different. "Let him in," he grinned. "Maybe this one will have something for me." He was never one to turn down opportunity.

Kuroo, plagued by a bit of disbelief, nodded and left the throne room. Presumably it was to tell the fox twins.

Another wicked smile split the Demon King's face, brown hair shifting as he tilted his head to the side. Somehow, he got the feeling that this time, something interesting would happen.

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You figured that the castle would be partly deserted, but this was just weird.

No sign of any living beings. Demons, animals, humans, nothing. Was it an ambush? Quite possibly. Still though, you continued on through the halls.

The inside, just like the outside, was made of dark stone and brick. The floors were marbled and grey, veins of gold running through it. It was actually relatively pretty. You thought that there would be skulls and bones everywhere, bodies even. The castle was well taken care of.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. Seriously, there was no one. You thought that the all powerful Demon King would at least have some guards stationed around. You were grateful for it though, the lack of protection making it easier for you to get into the castle.

In truth you weren't exactly sure where you were headed. You believed the demon king to be in his throne room, though where exactly that was remained a mystery.

Using your limited knowledge of how castles are built, you slowly tried to make your way to the center of the castle. The back center, specifically. You hoped that you'd find the throne room there, plus you were following the remnants of magic.

Even not being a magic user yourself, it would be hard not to feel the weird fluctuations of energy in these halls. Demons always left some kind of trail behind. Which, of course, made this weirder. Nobody was stopping you, but it was clear that there were being in the castle aside from the king himself.

A thought struck you as you reached two huge double doors. (They no doubt led to the throne room). Was it possible that the demons were letting you get this close? Of course, there had to be some kind of second meaning behind it, right?

Drawing in a breath, you flung the doors open.

The throne room was different than the rest of the castle, if only slightly. Grey marble and gold veins staying the same of course, the walls slightly lighter than before. If you had the time to look closely, you'd notice the oxidized bloodstains on the walls.

"Well well, look who's finally showed up!"

Your breath hitched in your throat, barely registering the door creaking closed behind you the moment you stepped forward. He was just as...no, more terrifying up close. The horns jutting out from the sides of his head, twisted upward, held a muted purple colour that shined in the equally muted light. His tone of voice was teasing, almost whiny.

You couldn't tell if his eyes were brown or red, but either way they glowed dangerously. "Well, boy?" He tilted his head, soft brown hair bouncing slightly. "You are here to kill me...aren't you?" His tone shifted. Deeper, more serious.

Your hand quickly made its way to your sword, eyes darting from his horns to his eyes.

He laughed. "Why do you keep looking at my horns like that? You are here for my head, are you not?" You wanted to nod, though he spoke before you could get an answer out.

"Wait a minute. You're here for something more...carnal, aren't you?"

Your eyes widened. "What- no! I'm here for your head!" Your grip on the swords hilt tightened. The rumors about his looks were true, (maybe even understating them), however that is not what you're here to do.

The teasing smirk dropped off of his face. "Oh. Lame."

Your brows knitted together. "Lame?" What was that supposed to mean?

"Oh nothing," he rolled his eyes. "So if you're going to deliver a speech, best do it now. Before I, you know, kill you real bad."

You only looked more confused.

Oikawa scoffed at your lack of response. "Jeez, come on, you know what a soliloquy is right?"

"Well yes but I don't think that really applies here-"

"Tomato whatever, get on with it!" He'd turned around, hands firmly gripping your shoulders.

Your breath stopped short for a second.

"Oh come one," his face moved closer. "Is a little proximity all it takes for you to freeze up? Maybe you aren't cut out to be a hero, boy," he snickered. His nose was brushing yours, breath minty and cold.

Without thinking, your sword was at his side in a flash of silver. Maybe it was just out of reflex, the need to defend yourself. The blank, shocked look on your face morphing into one of confusion. Why wasn't your sword moving further? "Was that the best you could do?" The king whispered.

Looking down, you realize just why he was so revered. He'd caught the blade in his hand, a trickle of black blood visible on his palm. No grimace, no noise of pain, nothing. "Hey, eyes up here sweetheart," one of his clawed hands was on your chin now. The wound, one that would cut almost anyone's hand off, didn't seem to throw him off his rhythm at all.

Horror and realization befell you as your eyes met his. You weren't ready. You didn't know what to do, except relax and let instinct take over. So that's what you did.

You let the sword fall out of your hand, causing him to have to catch it at an awkward angle. Using his moment of distraction, you reached into a bag at your hip. Sand. Sure, he was a demon, though it's not like his eyes were impervious to sand.

The dust hit him in the eyes, a startled, strangled noise leaving him. You turned, darting to the only open window as fast as possible. Jumping was not a good idea by any means, though maybe you could use the little magic you knew to your own advantage. You hesitated. You didn't mean to, but really it was just in your nature to be a little cautious.

Oikawa's eyes cleared just in time to see you fall out the window, hands darting back and forth and lips moving. Magic. "You clever little thing," he snarled, at the window in only a few seconds flat. He almost jumped out after you, but then he stopped. Sure he could follow you, but what would be the point? It makes more sense to simply leave you to come back on your own.

"Hey!"

You didn't look back at the sound of his voice, though you did catch the next words to fall from his mouth. "The names Tooru, by the way!"

You didn't say a word, focused on the cold burn of your heart pounding and your legs moving. You'd failed far faster than you thought you would, but you'd be back. You didn't even bother to step around the birds, only focused on getting out. After all, he'd let you leave. There wasn't any way you were taking that for granted.

Back at the castle, Oikawa's hands were still gripping the window's edge. He'd watched your form run until he could hardly see you, still gazing off in that direction. The twins were hovering behind him, wondering when the right time would be to speak. The bloodied sword on the ground, (and the grains of sand), were clear signs that you'd done something.

After elbowing one another for a minute, Osamu spoke up. "Would you like us to take care of it, Lord?" He pushed Atsumu back in an attempt to seem more dignified.

They got silence for a second before he responded. "No. That one is mine. Leave him be." The twins nodded in unison, leaving the room like they were never there.

You didn't do much. There were other heroes who'd done far more to him then you had, though still, something stuck with him. Maybe it was the utterly useless conversation you'd shared before anything actually happened. Maybe it was the vague potential he saw.

In any case, he was going to see you once more. Somewhere you'd least expect him.

Oikawa never was fond of leaving unfinished business.

#hq x male reader #m!reader #anime x male reader #x male reader #male reader #haikyuu x male reader #tooru oikawa x male reader #oikawa x male reader #tooru x male reader

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randominagines · 3 years

Note

Hi dear! I love your writing, would you be up for a Killian Jones x reader piece? I don't really have a specific idea, but one where they are not yet together but they do have feelings for each other? Idk if that makes sense >//<

First of all: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE COMPLIMENT, LOVE!

Second, I hope you like this and thanks for the request, it was lovely!

Pairing: Killian Jones X Fem!reader

Warning: mention of alcohol

P.s. if you find any mistake please correct me, English is not my mother tongue and I want to improve. Reblog, if you can, it helps a lot, thank you💕

P.p.s. gifs belong to the creators.

Cowards

Being Killian second in command was great, seriously: he was smart, that kinda of clever guy who knew exactly how to explain things without making them sound boring; he was skilled, fighting against him was stimulating and he had taught her many tricks. Not to mention the fact that he was absolutely handsome, and y/n couldn't help herself but noticing it. She had been his right-hand woman for years and the amount of adventure they had shared made them pretty close. Y/n had feelings for him but telling him was out of the question: she didn't want to screw their relationship up.

Killian, on the other hand, was totally in love with her. He had chosen her as second in command because she was clever and practical, her plans were always so precise and well designed and she was a natural with the sword. Talking to her was always a pleasure and Killian felt so understood by her, she had a way to see into him and always make him feel calm. Leaving the Jolly Roger in her hands was easier than how he expected it would have been and that was an important detail.

He really wanted to be honest with her, but she was always so professional and detached and he really didn't know what to expect from an eventual confession. The fact that they were too insicure to be honest with each other, didn't prevent them from slightly flirting: the sexual tension between them was palpable and the whole crew was aware of the fact that there were feelings between them.

"Okay, lazybones, today we're doing something new," Killian shouted, drawing everyone's attention. The whole crew turned to look at him and y/n bite her lower lip: he was particularly handsome that evening. "Captain Blackbeard and his crew are coming on board to discuss business, we'll need backups if we want to defeat Peter Pan." He explained, his eyes shining: the adrenaline of the combat always made him feel excited. Y/n shook her head and smiled while sharpening her sword. Killian looked at her. "What do you think, y/n?" He asked her, her opinion was fundamental to him. She shrugged. "As long as they behave and realize who's in charge, they will be welcomed here. Let's make sure we have enough rum for the night, by the way." She simply said and he smiled, his hand raising his sword. "You heard the lady, move!" He shouted and they all cheered, starting to prepare for the night.

Killian slowly walked toward her and she put her sword back in its case. "I can't believe we're teaming up with Blackbeard." She joked while checking all of the ropes, he put his hands on the deck and looked at the sea. "A common enemy crates unexpected alliances." He wisely said and she nodded while looking at the horizon too. The sea was calm that evening and the sun setting made the sky look amazing. He took a breath. "I want you to be next to me during the negotiations." He said and she nodded, her eyes scanning him. She felt happy and proud at the idea that he wanted her to be present during the discussion of business. "You can count on me, Killian." She said and he turned toward her, his hand gently pinching her cheek. "Sure, you're my best recruit and I..." He stopped, his eyes stuck into hers. He looked nervous. "I need you, y/n." He concluded, his voice a whisper. She smiled and took a step toward him, her body automatically moving. She didn't know what she was about to do, she was just going with the flow. He looked confused, for a second, but he moved toward her too.

Their faces were centimetres away when they heard Blackbeard's voice. "Captain Hook!" He screamed from his ship, his voice raspy. Y/n almost gasped in surprise, immediately taking a step back. Killian cursed inside and rolled his eyes before looking at him. "Captain Blackbeard, please, enjoy me on the Jolly Roger." He said opening his arms. The Captain smiled, his crooked teeth showing. "Crew, prepare the boats!" He shouted and his crew started to move.

A couple of minutes later, the Captain arrived on Killian' ship, his long black beard making him look threatening and his eyes as deep as the ocean. He immediately walked toward Killian. "Hook, for the first time ever, I can say that it's a pleasure to meet you." He said shaking his hand, Killian chuckled and touched his beard. "Aye, there is always a first time." He said and the man looked at y/n: his eyes widened. "And who is this stunning creature?" He asked, his hand grabbing hers to hand kiss her. She was impassible, she was kinda used to the advances; after all, besides her crew who never disrespected her, she was always surrounded by men and they were not always courteous. Killian tensed up. "She's my second in command, y/n." He nervously said, he was irritated.

Blackbeard smiled at her and left her hand. "You look gorgeous, girl." He complimented while bowing, y/n nodded and gave him a smile of courtesy. "Thank you, Captain, let's go discuss business now. We have a trip to Neverland to prepare and no time to waste." She cut him off while walking toward Killian's office. Captain Hook smiled in satisfaction while looking at her, but Blackbeard was even more intrigued. "She got quite a temper, uhm?" He asked and Killian, shrugged. "What can I say, she's a badass." He said and invited his guest to follow him. It was time for business.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The plan was perfect: y/n had thought about everything, as always. Killian was quite proud of how detailed her information had been during the meeting and Blackbeard was impressed as well. "For tonight, we're done. Now, if you want to relax, the banquet is ready and our rum barrels are at your service." She said and opened the door, showing Blackbeard that everything was just ready. He smiled and she bowed before leaving them and go get prepared for the feast. Killian stood up and Blackbeard did the same. "She's smart, very much." He said walking next to him, Killian shrugged. "I choose her for a reason." He simply said and the man laughed. "You care about the girl." He said and put his hands behind his back, Captain Hook panicked for a moment: no one had to know his weak spot, or else they could use it against him.

He dissimulated. "I care about my entire crew." He said and Blackbeard chuckled, his hand now on the tilt of his sword. "I hope you're not going to betray me, or else I'll kill her." He threatened him, his eyes fierce. Killian felt his heart skipping a beat at the thought of something bad happening to his y/n, but smiled. "Oh come one, she doesn't mean that much to me, she's just a smart girl, I need her for professional stuff and that's all," he lied, his hand on his shoulder. "Besides, I have no reason to betray you this time. We can work together." He concluded and opened his arms, Blackbeard nodded. "I suppose so, let's go have a toast." He said and walked toward the banquet. Killian nervously nodded and realized that his heartbeat was slowing down to the normal rythm. What he didn't know was that y/n had just overheard everything he had said from the under deck, she was there to make sure that the whole crew was on deck.

She was disappointed, hurt, even mad. She couldn't believe she had misinterpreted his signals so bad. "How stupid can someone be..." She whispered to herself while kicking an empty barrel away. She ran her hands through her fingers, then she heard the voices from the deck, voices of joy, celebration, and decided to have a good time that night. She quickly stood up and ran upstairs, her legs moving fast to led her to her cabin. She opened her trunk and kneeled down while throwing all of her clothes around just to find the one and only fancy dress she owned. It was at the bottom of the trunk, never worn before but absolutely stunning. She smiled and put it on, then she looked herself in the mirror: it fitted her perfectly, with that tigh silver corset decorated with blue laces and the wide blue skirt. Her y/h/c hair fell perfectly on her shoulder and the long sleeves of the dress made her look like an noblewoman. She smiled, she hadn't seen herself in a dress since years. Killian had bought it for her during one of their adventures but she always refused to wear it, she was more comfortable in her pirate trousers and shirts; but desperate times call for desperate measures, so the time of that dress had finally come. She did a pirouette before leaving her cabin and finally enjoying the crew on the deck.

Everyone just turned to look at her: her crew was not used at all to see her like that, she was mostly the little sister they all felt like protecting and also respecting, and Blackbeard's crew was just mesmerized by her. She was about to walk toward the banquet when she perceived Killian's hook pulling her arm. "Y/n, you look..." He stared at her, his blue eyes traveling to her body and face. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish the sentence. "Stunning, you look stunning, my lady." A boy completed the sentence. He was standing in front of them, his green eyes looked gentle and his black hair made him look handsome. He had small lips and seamed not older that twenty-five. Y/n bowed and smiled. "Thank you, what's your name?" She sweetly asked, her arm wriggled out to be released from Killian's hook. He was like frozen, partly because he couldn't believe how beautiful y/n was and partly because he was starting to perceive the cold stab of the jealousy. The boy smiled, he had a sweet smile. "I'm Cole, and you are?" He asked, his hand reaching for hers, she took it and Killian looked at him, he was furious.

"I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you." She said, her voice calm. Killian puffed but Cole smiled. "I know this may sound inappropriate but, I've never seen a girl as beautiful as you, do you want a drink?" He asked and quickly glanced the barrels of rum. She smiled and nodded. "Of course, and thank you, you're not bad yourself. Let's go." She said, but before she could take a step, Killian put a hand on her shoulder and looked at Cole. "Lad, excuse us for a second." He commanded, his voice firm. The boy nodded and left them with a last quick glance at her. She puffed and crossed her arms. "What do you want, Hook?" She brusquely asked, he frowned. "Hook? Since when do you call me Hook?" He asked nervously, she shrugged. "Since you go around telling people you don't care about me." She said and he widened his eyes.

He cursed inside, his hands running through his hair. "Y/n, I was just..." He tried to say but she stopped him. "We got it, you need me for professional stuff, the let me enjoy this night, for fuck' sake." She said before turning and leaving him there. He looked at her, not sure about what was the right thing to do. He was about to walk to her when Mr. Snee ran to him. "Captain, your presence is required now, maybe we know where to find a magic bean but the map is impossible to read, your the one who can do it." He said and Killian bite his lower lip. He looked at her, she was drinking with that Cole and the whole crew was around her, everyone just kidnapped by her charm. How could he blamed them? She really was one of a kind. He sighed. "Okay, but just five minutes, I want to take an eye on y/n." He said before following Mr Snee under deck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It actually took almost an hour to decode the map. As soon as Killian was over, he rushed upstairs, his head hurting because of all of that coordinates. He immediately saw her: she was sitting next to Cole, another boy on her other side, and she was laughing and telling something while Cole was caressing her knee. Killian felt the jealousy spreading in his whole body and immediately walked to them. "...and then we escaped using fairy dust. Oh, our Captain! Here he is! Isn't he tall and intimidating and all? He is, isn't he? Where is my boot, by the way?" She asked and raised the hem of her dress, she was wearing just one boot; her words were slurred and a glass filled with rum was in her hand. Cole laughed, he was just as drunk as she was.

Killian looked at her and took the glass from her hand. "Okay, party is over for you." He said and she gasped while standing up, her face a mask of fury. She stumbled to keep her balance and Killian took her arms to help her. She slapped his hands away. "First of all, you're no one to tell me what to do..." She said and pointed her finger at him, he ignored her and looked around to see where her other boot was. "Second of all, I'm perfectly capable of taking..." She tried to say, but he picked up her boot and then lifted her too, her whole body moving to wriggle out. "We know, you can take care of yourself." He said walking toward his cabin but Cole jumped in front of him. "Hey, let her go, we were having a good time." He protested but Killian rolled his eyes and moved him aside. The boy stopped him again. "I said..." He tried to say, but Killian put his hook under his chin. "My ears work just fine, boy. Now, move, your good time with her is over." He said and the boy raised his arms in surrender before stepping away.

She puffed. "You're a party killer." She whispered while he walked in his cabinet. He gently layed her down on his bed and turned to search a blanket. In the meantime, she took off her dress and layed down on his bad. "I found it, is thisOHFUCK!" He shouted and left the blanket fall: she was completely naked in his bed. He quickly grabbed one of his shirt and, without looking at her, he helped her putting it on. She smiled. "Thanks." She said and he sat on the bed next to her and caressed her forehead, she was smelling like alcohol so bad. He smiled looking at her. "You need rest." He said, his fingers gentle on her cheek. She scanned him with her eyes. "I thought you didn't care about me." She said, her voice a whisper. He chuckled and shook his head. "Y/n, you're the smartest person I know, think: why would I have said such a thing to Blackbeard?" He asked, his blue eyes stuck into hers. She raised an eyebrow while thinking, then she widened her eyes. "Revealing a weakness is a dangerous thing to do." She whispered, her lips parting.

He nodded and smiled. "Good girl, this brain works wonderfully when you toss the blind anger aside." He joked and she laughed, her hands covering her face. "I'm sorry." She whispered between her fingers, he took her hand and kissed it. "It's okay, you were just scared that your Captain didn't appreciate you for your value." He said and smiled, she blushed a bit, her eyes getting heavy. "True, but there is another reason..." She whispered, the tiredness invading her whole body. He frowned as to invite her to go on. "I was scared that the person I love the most didn't care at all about me." She finally confessed while blushing. He widened his eyes and looked at her. His heartbeat raced and he felt butterflies erupting in his stomach. "What did you bloody say?" He asked squeezing her hand. She laughed. "Don't mind me, I'm just drunk and in love." She said before finally falling asleep.

He stayed next to her for a couple of minutes, processing what had just happened, then someone knocked at his door. "Captain, the crew wants you, the celebration are not the same without the owner of the house." Mr. Snee voice seamed like coming from far away. Killian ran his hands through his hair. "I'm coming." He said while standing up and placing a kiss on her forehead, the familiar scent of her skin mixed with the smell of rum filling his nose. He smiled placing a blanket over her and left the cabin, his heart filled with hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The worst headache ever. That's what she had managed to obtain. Y/n slowly sat up on the bed while massaging her forehead. She squeezed her eyes and looked around, then she frowned: that was not her cabin. She moved the sheets away to stand up but someone suddenly opened the door. Killian appeared, a smile on his face. "Good morning, love." He joyfully said and entered in the cabin, she sighed and brushed her hair with her fingers. "Why is my head exploding and why am I half naked?" She asked. He sat next to her and showed her that he was carrying a glass of water. "Here you are." He said and she nodded as to thank him and took the glass.

She drank it quickly, she hadn't realised how thirsty she was untill she saw the water. He chuckled but felt a bit sad, probably she didn't remember her own confession from the last night or was just the rum talking and exaggerating her feelings.. "Let's say, you had a bit of too much rum yesterday. You undressed yourself, by the way." He fooled her around and smiled. She violently blushed while putting the glass down and frowned. "Did I? I remember talking to that boy, Cole, and then..." She tried to say but she noticed that Killian had tensed up. She looked at him. "What's wrong?" She asked, she was purely curious. He shook his head and crossed his arms. "Nothing, it's just, I didn't like him." He said and she raised an eyebrow. "Killian, were you jealous?" She spontaneously asked, he opened his mouth and looked at her. "What? No, absolutely n...", He said but he stopped when she looked away. He took a deep breath and grabbed her hand.

She turned to look at him, she was confused. "I was. I was bloody jealous. I dragged you away from him because the idea of seeing you with someone else makes me lose my sanity," he said, his thumb caressing her hand. He looked at her. "I love you, y/n. I've been loving you for years, I was just too coward to admit it." He said and looked down while letting out his breath. She put a finger under his chin and raised his head, her eyes meet his. "Killian Jones, apparently there are two cowards here," she said caressing his cheek, he smiled. "And even if I was drunk yesterday, I was telling the truth. I'm in love with you, Captain, I've always been." She said and he put his forehead against hers. "You remember..." He whispered, his hand caressing her cheek. "Of course I do." She said before crushing her lips against his.

He kissed her back, his hand cupping under her head and his lips parting. Their tongues meet and she ran her fingers through his hair, her touch delicate. He smiled on her lips. "We wasted so much time..." He whispered, his fingers drawing figures on her bare legs. She shrugged while crossing her arms around his shoulders. "We will make up for the lost time." She said and he smiled, his deep blue eyes scanning her. "You were absolutely stunning yesterday, by the way. You're always beautiful, but that dress..." He said and glanced at the dress, she chuckled. "I should have worn it before if it effects on you that much." She joked and he brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I bought it to you for that reason." He shrugged and she opened her mouth. "You remember." She said, she thought he hadn't even recognised that dress. He smiled. "Of course I do." He said and kissed her again, he never wanted to stop kissing her from that moment on.

#killian jones imagine #killian jones x reader #killian jones x you #Killian jones x y/n #killian jones x fem!reader #captain hook imagine #captain hook x reader #captain hook x fem!reader #captain hook x y/n #captain hook x you

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wing-ed-thing · 3 years

Text

Retail Therapy (Kakuzu x Reader)

Synopsis: Deidara has a new partner for a combined effort with the Zombie Combo. However, something about you has Kakuzu heated.

Word Count: 2,123

Tags/Warnings: Violence, Threat of Violence, Probably Language, Gender Neutral Reader

Notes: Kakuzu content is probably some of the best stuff I’ve ever written. Right now I’m watching a video on fried milk. Ever hear of such a thing? Fascinating.

Kakuzu didn’t like being paired up with Hidan, let alone joint missions where he’d have to deal with even more people. Not to say that Kakuzu hated people, because he did, but he never thought that he’d hate anyone more than he absolutely hated you. He hadn’t even met you yet, but he knew at his very core that you would quickly become the bane of his entire existence.

“Shopping?” Kakuzu asked slowly, the word forming on his lips as if he had an aversion to even speaking it. Deidara leaned back on the large bounder that he settled on and stretched his arms up above his head. The blond nodded with a short groan before his hands came to rest behind his head.

“Yep,” he answered, “And for hours too, so I’d get comfortable.” Hidan plopped down on a patch of dirt below, his back and scythe against the side of the rock. Kakuzu glared down at his partner causing Hidan to shrug. To Hidan, if Deidara thought that the three of them would be waiting a while, he would take his word and make himself comfortable. Kakuzu’s attention turned back to Deidara.

“Hours? What possibly could someone be purchasing that takes them hours?” Hidan gazed up from his spot, head tilted back against the surface behind him.

“And we only came like five minutes late too. Who takes off like that?” Kakuzu almost nodded in agreement, but knowing his partner, Hidan would take any excuse to complain. Deidara shrugged, basking in the warmth of the sun and stayed lounging even as a rustling came from the woods. Hidan’s hand immediately reached up to grip the handle of his weapon and Kakuzu took a defensive stance. Deidara’s eyes remained closed.

“Oh hello, boys! I didn’t know you were here!” You sauntered out of the trees, bags hanging from both arms. They were pushed tightly in a line, every other patch of your skin strained by the handles of a different shopping bag. Even in your altered Akatsuki cloak, Kakuzu took a look at you and immediately decided that you were decorated far too ornately and that he’d like to kill you when he had the chance. You were objectively beautiful, but if Kakuzu had his way, Deidara would have to be assigned another partner soon. “You haven’t been waiting for too long, have you?”

“You shouldn’t have left us waiting at all,” Kakuzu glowered, although not any more than usual. Either you didn’t hear him or you ignored him as you walked up to your partner. You plucked a package from one of your more reachable bags.

“I got you something, Dei-dei!” You threw it up to Deidara weakly but he managed to catch it. He opened the small, folded, paper bag. Deidara glanced down at you with a nod of his head and a fold of his lips. He took the neat band in his hand while you looked at him expectantly. “Aren’t they nice? Hair ties. Silk from a small village in the Land of Water.” Deidara held them up to the sun.

“That’s some great quality you found. Thanks.” Your partner glanced down at you again. “Must’ve been one hell of a fight assuming that you got a good price for it.” Kakuzu looked on at your exchange, increasingly beginning to lose his temper.

“Believe me, I did. And I found a ton of other great finds too. I gotta show you—”

“Enough,” Kakuzu growled and you finally turned your attention his way. Hidan had since passed out against the boulder that Deidara sat on. “You’re wasting all our time. The sooner we start, the sooner we can part ways.” You gave Kakuzu a once over with your nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Well someone’s grumpy,” you mused. You rolled your eyes and pointed your nose upward. Huffing, you threw your shopping bags into the air and as they fell, you swiftly unfurled a scroll. Your new items disappeared one by one. You rolled the paper back up, scowling as you slipped the scroll into one of many slots that you wore strapped to your clothing. The pockets ran down the small of you back and you latched the bundle of paper in place with a flip of your nimble fingers. Kakuzu frowned back, tentatively wondering if all the scrolls you carried contained the same amount of shopping bags. You approached him with crossed arms. “Okay then, tough guy. Let’s get started.”

You sat down and summoned a map of the next village. It laid out in front of you and placed your hands on your knees in challenge. Kakuzu sat down on the other side of the map, eyes boring into you. You didn’t budge. And as you began to speak, it was hard to focus, at least for Deidara. Though he supposed he’s seen you this fired up before.

“It would be easier if we lure the jinchūriki outside of the village,” you said, gesturing to the small, unnamed village on the map. It wasn’t large, but just big enough to serve as a maze for your prize. At least you knew the woods better and a jinchūriki was bound to stand out among the trees.

“I can get up some traps,” Deidara added and you nodded.

“Back them into a corner and cage them into a small space—” You nodded again— “We can use some explosives around the area… maybe here?” You pointed to a section of the map outside of the village. You looked up at Deidara. “You’d be our last line of defense when the jinchūriki tries to run.” Deidara smirked and puffed out his chest.

“Leave it to me!”

“We’ll need someone to drive the jinchūriki out of the village,” Kakuzu cut in, not particularly liking how you dominated the strategizing. “I’ll go with Hidan.” While Kakuzu thought that he would stop at nothing to get away from the Jashinist, this had to be a regrettable first. Hidan napped a few feet away.

You raised an eyebrow and scoffed, “You and Hidan? Psh… might as well have Deidara set off fireworks in the sky that spell out ‘single, hot jinchūriki in your a—”

“I can do that!” Deidara cut in before immediately backing down at Kakuzu’s pointed glare, not that he’d show it. You locked eyes with Kakuzu, taking his fiery stare off of your partner.

“I’ll go. You’re too conspicuous and, really, have you seen Hidan? You two would be spotted a mile away.” Kakuzu almost snarled.

“And you wouldn’t?” You let out a short, bitter laugh. Your left arm supported your weight as your knees touched together on the right side of your body. Kakuzu scowled at your blatant lounging. Everything about you challenged him and he hated you for it. Your lids narrowed in a smug smile.

“I’m not the one—” who’s fuckin’ jacked — “ with big-ass black stitches across my whole body.”

“And four faces on his back…” Hidan called out, still half asleep. You turned back to Kakuzu.

“And four faces on his back,” you repeated, much to Kakuzu’s vexation. The sass in your blinks was lost on the older shinobi. He stood, causing you to stand too. Deidara took a hint and retreated. Kakuzu crossed his arms over his chest and he planted his feet on the ground about the same width apart as his broad shoulders. He pointed two fingers at you harshly.

“And you’re—” Gorgeous. — “a brat. I should just kill you right here.” You stood your ground, daring to slap Kakuzu’s hand out of your face.

“As much as I’d like to see you try, tough guy, I’d actually like to do some quality work and get the hell away from you as quickly as I can.” Kakuzu huffed, gritting his teeth underneath his mask.

“Nice to hear that we’re on the same page.”

And with neither of your partners wanting to deal with either of you pissed off, you and Kakuzu were paired together.

***

Deciding that your cloaks were too noticeable, you sealed yours away. Kakuzu kept his draped across his arm, distrust of you evident. You walked down the road together under the late afternoon, waiting for nightfall. You hoped that striking at night would give you not only the surprise advantage, but also minimize the number of clueless civilians that would no doubt wander in your way. But as soon as your eyes fell onto the market, Kakuzu quickly began to wonder if his stubbornness landed him with an even larger headache. But his usual, standoffish demeanor remained the same. Kakuzu’s eyes drifted to their corners as he scowled down at you.

“No.” That was all he said, as if you would actually listen to him and not immediately march in the direction of the market. He reluctantly followed, every reach to hold you back by your robes falling just a bit short each time. By the time you were stopped, too many people surrounded the two of you for him to pull you away without drawing attention. Normally, attention from others wasn’t anything that Kakuzu would be concerned with, but your two teams had their orders and Kakuzu would be damned if he had to spend anymore time with you.

You stood in front of a booth with your hand on your chin. Kakuzu stood next to you, following your gaze to a simple, but sturdy-looking sword. You gingerly picked it up, carefully studying it’s craftsmanship. The man behind the booth leaned over his table, motioning to the piece of merchandise in your hands.

“Ah, you have a good eye, mercenary.” You glanced up at him.

“Land of Earth? Lots of excellent craftsmanship comes from there, I’m not surprised.” You ran your thumb across the dull of the blade. “Antique too, but still hardy.” The merchant nodded pointing to a few spots across the weapon.

“Could get you out of a bind too. Reliable smithing comes from Tsuchi no Kuni.” Kakuzu looked on at the show in front of him. In stark contrast to earlier, you seemed poised and he found you knowledgeable. You appeared calm and competent enough to handle yourself and for a second, Kakuzu became lost in your analysis.

You stepped back, turning the sword around in your hand to feel out the balance. The blade whipped around your body with ease. The seller softly applauded your embellished practice. Kakuzu almost rolled his eyes, but took some comfort in the fact that you were looking to purchase something of quality and not just anything at the very least. You looked down at the weapon with a nod or two before asking the dreaded question.

“So what’s your price?” The merchant didn’t hesitate.

“A hundred thousand ryō.” Kakuzu almost left right there, but a dominant part of him wanted to know what you were going to do. His hands grasped his biceps, his cloak still hanging from his forearm. Kakuzu watched you closely. You shook your head.

“You’re going to give it to me for twenty-five thousand.” The merchant gaped at the outrageous price you named. He sputtered a few times.

“That price is far too low for this quality. You must be joking if you think I’d sell this fine piece of equipment for practically nothing.”

You did name a ridiculous price. Not even Kakuzu could see getting what you wanted for that price without a fair bit of violence and intimidation. But you ripped into that merchant. You ripped into this poor seller like nothing Kakuzu had ever seen before. He didn’t even know if he could call it bartering, but whatever it was, it was likely one of the most skillful things that Kakuzu had ever seen.

He folded his lips under his mask. You didn’t yell. Kakuzu didn’t even find your appearance intimidating in the slightest, yet every point and number the merchant brought up, you countered. And by the end of the intense conversation, if Kakuzu didn’t know any better and had less of a spine, he’d likely be handing the sword over too. The man had long since started sweating, tugging at his collar. If Kakuzu didn’t see it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it as you handed over exactly twenty-five thousand ryō. He almost overlooked the complete waste of money as he still stood stunned, though not outwardly showing any such emotion.

You nestled the sword by your hip and the seller let out a breath of relief by the time you walked away. Kakuzu followed wordlessly next to you as you strutted off in triumph.

Perhaps he misjudged you. He stared, not noticing as he did so.

Yes, you were going to save the organization a fortune.

Notes: “oH mY gOd KaKuzU sAiD hE wAs GoNna KiLl rEader! wHy wOuLd yOu wRiTe sOmEtHiNg sO tOxIc???”... They’re criminal terrorists, Susan.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#kakuzu x reader #kakuzu #Akatsuki x reader #Akatsuki!reader #deidara #hidan #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #x you #x reader #reader insert #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto imagine

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mollymauktealeef · 3 years

Note

uhm, for your prompts: geraskier, with jaskier hiding geralt (and maybe ciri) from nilfgaard in plain sight, like. without magic, he manages to make the soldiers go away with empty hands? thank you!

sorry this took longer than expected! i haven’t been feeling very well recently so it got left alone for a while. hope you like it though!

warning/s: none

(ao3)

“You there!”

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier mutters sharply recognising the no nonsense tone of a solider and feeling the dread settle in his gut like a block of ice.

Geralt’s fingers twitch at his side, his swords are sadly tucked away under Roach’s blanket just under Ciri’s leg for safekeeping as she sits astride the saddle.

They’d been reluctantly placed there - at Jaskier’s suggestion - so they could move through town unhindered by locals looking for a Witcher’s aid or at least so the trio could draw a little less attention than they normally would. Something they might have gotten away with if Geralt hadn’t been sour about hiding his swords so much he’d childishly left down his hood. Revealing his rather distinctive and famous white hair for all the land to see.

And now there are soldiers.

So the idea of going incognito had clearly failed in it’s execution and now Geralt is without his weapons in easy reach as the squelch of many heavy boots marching through the mud approach them from behind.

Jaskier watches out of the corner of his eye as Geralt’s hand releases the reins for Roach’s bridle and skims along her flank to the hidden pommel slowly. Jaskier shakes his head in warning and thankfully the Witcher listens, stilling his hand.

The last thing they need is more attention and Geralt beheading the local guardsmen would be like sending up a flare for Nilfgaard.

Jaskier chews on his lip, racking his brain for a way out of their predicament. He see’s Geralt’s hand move again, not for the swords this time but to rest on Ciri’s shaking knee in comfort. The princess huddles under her cloak, shrinking away from the danger approaching them and Jaskier’s heart aches for her. The lingering trauma of being hunted has left a stain on the once happy princess that Jaskier and Geralt have tried their best to erase. But situations like these always undo that hard work in moments.

Jaskier sighs at the loss of progress shrinking deeper into the folds of her cloak and decides on a course of action, one that might just avoid darkening that stain on Ciri’s heart.

“Oi! You deaf?” Another voice yells and Jaskier straightens his spine and prepares to dazzle his audience into submission.

He spins round dramatically, plastering a wide happy grin across his face. It’s not his most eye-catching outfit but he should be able to draw attention away from the Witcher and his child surprise well enough. Presentation is key for misdirection after all.

Jaskier glances over the small patrol quickly, filing away the small details that he can use to his advantage. Just like any other ballroom or tavern he’s stepped foot in. Reading the room is how you own it and Jaskier wouldn’t be a famous bard if he couldn’t quickly and effectively discern the lay of the land. A loud tavern full of boisterous laughter needs dance music and bawdy songs, a noble wedding with dignified guests needs jaunty jigs with easy beats to dance to and when enough wine has been drunk, a few romantic epics to get everyone in the mood. The stage is a little different but the details are the same.

He silently curses as he recognises the dark armour and golden sun stretching across it and prays to whatever deity likes Geralt in one piece in the vain hope that things will go smoothly. But for now, it's up to him and every skill he’s honed at every banquet and party he’s ever been to, to get them through this peacefully.

“Fine gentlemen, what can I aid such noble soldiers with today?” he greets loudly as he skips forward putting himself between the approaching soldiers and Geralt. A few of the men flinch at his volume. Jaskier notes the overly red cheeks and bloodshot eyes, the slight sway in their stance. Too much patrolling the tavern rather than the streets and very recently too.

He has to play this right. Be loud and obnoxious and they’ll want to get rid of him quickly to ease their aching heads. Too much though and he runs the risk of raising questions. It’ll be a fine line to tread, a thin tightrope between freedom and a noose but it’s something he’s managed before and for far lesser stakes.

“Your friend, where does he hail from?” The Captain asks shrewdly, eyeing Geralt’s exposed white hair with narrowed eyes. Jaskier rocks on his heels full of nervous energy.

“My cousin you mean? Well he and his daughter come from Lettenhove of course! As do I,” Jaskier bows deeply, throwing as much theatricality into his performance as possible, “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. A pleasure to meet you, good sir!”

He doesn’t often drag out his nobility but the situation calls for it. Perhaps enough for the men to back off, in fear of upsetting nobility.

“And your...cousin’s white hair? A familial trait?” The captain asks skeptically. His title isn’t enough to brush away their questions but there is a touch more hesitancy than before so Jaskier counts it in his favour. He still grimaces a little and racks his brain for a plausible lie to help them escape the situation with as little screaming and entrails as possible. Tiny streams in deep forests are not ideal for removing Nilfgaardian guts from a Witcher’s hair after all and after this fiasco getting Geralt to agree to enter any form of civilisation will be a nightmare.

So Jaskier does what he does best.

He tells a story.

He lets his face drop into a more serious expression and sidles up closer, a little too close for comfort, for a not so much conspiratorial whisper, “No, no, my good sir. Not at all. You see, it's such a terrible thing. Truly terrible. A curse.”

At least two of the men take an involuntary step back as though such a thing could be catching. Good, Jaskier thinks snidely, superstitious morons swallow a lie father easier than a wise man.

“Twas laid upon him by a spiteful sorceress. He’s quite sensitive over the whole thing as I’m sure you can imagine,” Jaskier placed a hand over his heart as he hammed up the performance a degree or two, “My poor dear sweet cousin spurned the witches advances you see, his heart already belonged to another. Fiona’s mother, she hailed from Nilfgaard, such a sweet woman. Not that it mattered to the spiteful witch! The sorceress was quite enraged by it all and so cursed my poor cousin to bear the likeness of the ugliest creature she knew, a Witcher.”

Jaskier winces internally and sends a silent apology to Geralt and hopes the man won’t take too much offence but there’s no other option for them.

“How unfortunate,” one of the men comments in a heartfelt manner and Jaskier dabs at his dry eye in agreement.

“Yes it is and such happenstance that we should be looking for a Witcher,” the Captain says, unconvinced. But Jaskier has the rest of his audience on tenterhooks and a crowd can sway a single mind.

He scoff’s loudly and slams his hands onto his hips.

“Nothing but trouble I say, for we’ve been stopped by every knight and good soldier from here to the Pontar! It’s made our journey to Oxenfurt doubly long and I’m due to begin teaching next week! The delay!” Jaskier wails dramatically and the men collectively wince at his volume and shrillness, “Thankfully with my tenured position the faculty will be most forgiving of my lateness! But truly it has been nothing but trouble!”

“Hmm,” the Captain wavers and Jaskier pushes his advantage, leaning in a touch too far again.

“I shall tell you good sir the best way to tell a Witcher from my unfortunate cousin is the swords, for Witcher’s carry two on their backs and my dear sweet cousin can only swing a pitchfork!”

“Viscount’s right Captain, no swords,” one of the men speaks up and they all turn to look at Geralt’s back, covered in a muddy cape but bereft of the notable twin swords.

“He could have thrown them,” the Captain suggests but quietly, not fully believing his own words and Jaskier tries not to let his relief show.

“Thrown them?! Why my dear Captain, that would be a waste of fine silver and steel! Who in their right mind would throw away a silver sword! Pah! A fool, that’s who!”

The Captain ruminates for a few moments and then nods, “Right you are, carry on m’lord.”

Jaskier’s knees feel a little weak as the men shuffle round and begin their march back up the street they came. He waves them off jauntily despite the nausea swirling in his gut.

“Many blessings to you and safe journey my good men!”

As soon as the men are out of sight Jaskier stumbles as the relief falls on him like a ton of bricks. Geralt grips his bicep, pulling him back up as he stares down the street after the patrol.

“Gone?” Jaskier asks and Geralt nods.

“Thank Melitele,” Jaskier exhales and drops his head against Geralt’s shoulder heavily.

“Ugliest creatures?” Geralt asks and Jaskier groans.

“Darling I apologise wholeheartedly for such a lie but how else was I to excuse your appearance?”

Geralt snorts, thankfully with more amusement than anger, “Good thinking.”

“Thank you love but might I suggest putting several fields between us and them before more questions are asked?” Jaskier points out and Geralt wraps an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, squeezing him close for a moment before letting him stand on his own steadying legs.

Geralt takes Roach’s reins once more as Jaskier falls into step next to him, he spares a glance over his shoulder at the near empty street behind them and hopes they can put enough road between the patrol and them before nightfall to breathe a little easier.

“Are you really a viscount Jaskier?” Ciri questions quietly, hunched over under her heavy cape atop Roach. Jaskier startles at the sudden question but settles into a sardonic smile.

“Unfortunately so my darling, though the title does have its uses here and there.”

Ciri thankfully doesn’t press the issue as she flicks her gaze over her shoulder worridily. More concerned with the soldiers than his checkered past.

“I didn’t think they’d leave so easily,” she mumbles and Jaskier reaches over to pat her leg softly.

“Fear not my dear, they were easy to fool and won’t be following us anytime soon.”

“How can you be so sure?” Ciri asks, her tone skeptical and a little sharp. A princess on the run yes, but still a princess and one growing from a child into a woman and not shy about demanding she be treated as such. Jaskier chuckles.

“Simple. I saw all I needed to, to lead them astray. I’ll teach you how to read men like open books soon enough darling,” Jaskier winks and Ciri worried at her bottom lip for a few quiet moments.

“Teach me now?”

Jaskier shares a glance with Geralt, raising an eyebrow up in question and Geralt simply nods his permission. Well if his Witcher is okay with it then who is he to argue giving the young exiled princess another knife in her growing arsenal.

“Very well, what did you notice about them?”

She ponders for a moment, “There weren’t that many?” Ciri offers hesitantly. Jaskier beams encouragingly.

“Well spotted! A small patrol left in an unremarkable town. Tells us quite a bit. These fools aren’t high on the pecking order. They aren’t given more responsibility or better yet aren’t trusted with more,” Jaskier explains and Ciri leans forward in rapt attention. “What else could you see?”

“They hesitated,” Geralt says and Jaskier turns his attention on the Witcher’s soft smile.

“Very good my love,” Jaskier pecks Geralt’s cheek in reward, earning a giggle from Ciri.

“That matters?” she asks.

“Indeed, a lack of confidence speaks to their inexperience or perhaps they’ve acted hastily in the past and been reprimanded making them hesitant to act similarly again,” Jaskier explains, falling into his old teaching habits easily.

“What else did you see,” Ciri questions curiously and Jaskier hums thoughtfully.

“Dented armour that hasn’t yet been fixed, means coin is tight or flowing elsewhere. Mud caked into clothes and bulging chest plates. These men have become lazy and spend more nights in a tavern than marching around town. Ruddy cheeks and bloodshot eyes tell me they enjoy their drink, a bit too much most likely. Given the hour it was either a heavy night of drinking with a spectacular hangover or they’ve just come from the tavern. Whichever it is, their minds and body long for beds not battle and that my fair girl is where you can take advantage,” Jaskier lists and Ciri looks suitably impressed with his observations.

“Enough to confuse them?”

“Perhaps enough to lose them in a winding tale with dramatic flair,” Jaskier shrugs, remembering many a glazed drunken gaze and how he used it to his advantage in the past.

“The loudness helped too,” Geralt offers slyly and Ciri laughs as Jaskier pretends to take offence though he preens at the small but fond smile on his Witcher’s face and the ease settling around Ciri’s shoulders once more.

“Nothing makes a drunken soldier recoil quicker than a loud bright bard,” Jaskier winks.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier fanfic #jask writes #nessie

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coping-via-clint-eastwood · 3 years

Text

CSI Characters as Ancient/Medieval Fantasy Warriors (title is tentative)

I WROTE THIS ALL IN ONE SITTING!!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT???????

*ahem* This is speculation about what powers and skills the CSI characters would have if they were warriors in an ancient/medieval fantasy setting, amongst other things. This was probably inspired by my recent wallowing in medieval fantasy (specifically Songs of War {if you don't know what that is, it's okay}), and I thought, why not entertain the idea? And after writing it out, I can say that it was fun toying around with it. If this inspires anybody to add on anything, or write fanfiction, or whatever, by all means go ahead.

@addictedtostorytelling @bartramcat @buildinggsr @davesdude80 @dobbyofearth @fandomismymiddlename @originalpinkranger @panchostokes @space-helen @stokes-theorem

All the people written about here are humans with powers.

Gil: He has enhanced eyesight, and is a sniper archer. If I may draw your attention to the ending scene of season 4 episode 2, All for Our Country:

Bonus shot because it reminds me of his Will Graham days:

He is canonically a deadeye. So, I am extending that to be a superhuman power. I'll put it this way: he can aim and shoot at the same target a contemporary sniper with a scope could; he does not require (or have, for that matter) a scope. Because he is not so able as his younger teammates, so he cannot be in the direct area of battle and fend off opponents. But he has excellent eyesight, so he hides up in a tree or on the edge of a cliff that overlooks the area or wherever is applicable, and shoots any targets he can. He uses a crossbow, since not as much strength is needed to pull back the cord as compared to a bow. He also has a light wooden staff which he uses to help him walk up inclinations. It's also his defensive staff; if an enemy manages to sneak up on him, he can point the staff at them and shoot a forcefield that will blast them back. But this is only effective at close range, hence why he has to use the crossbow for opponents further away. He wears a hooded cloak which is green on one side and a dusty brown on the other, so that he can camouflage himself, turning the cloak to whichever side he needs to match his surroundings. He is not the only one to wear a cloak however; Catherine, Ecklie, Jim, DB and Finn wear cloaks (more details when I get to each) as well to show they are of higher ranking, but only Gil's is hooded for practical purposes.

Warrick: His power is that he can jump really high. He can jump over a small hill and land on the ground on the other side. He's the one who helps get Gil to his perches if needed; he puts him over his shoulder and jumps, holding him with one arm and his war hammer in his other hand. He is strong enough to carry Gil. And Gil trusts him and is comfortable enough to let himself be borne in such a way, never struggling or crying out in fear when he is suddenly brought off the ground at such a high rate. In tandem with being able to jump high, he can strike his hammer on the ground when he lands and cause a quake. His hammer's enchantment depends on how high he jumped. On the ground, he swings his hammer at an opponent and sends them flying back (at a much greater distance than Gil's forcefield).

Bobby Dawson: He's the archer who is in the direct area of battle. He uses a small hunting bow, and also has a gladius in case any opponents manage to get close to him. He has enhanced reflexes, so he is able to turn around, draw weapons, and load and shoot his bow faster than normal.

Catherine: She is telekinetic. She does not use weapons because she prefers to have her hands free to gesticulate and help her focus on moving the objects she is controlling. Her cloak is a beautiful royal blue.

Heather: Mind control + reading minds + telepathy. And invisibility. Aside from turning the team's opponents against each other, mind control is useful for helping friends escape from dangerous situations; sometimes, it's easier than telling them what to do. She needs very strong concentration for her mind control, which is the ability she uses the most, so she makes herself invisible and keeps out of the way, but stays where she can see the person she is manipulating. Like Gil, she has the defensive staff in case anyone finds her.

Nick and Sara: They are what I like to call the speedster twins. It is very satisfying to wash them nyoom about and quickly kill any opponent in the path of their run. Typically, they start out standing next to each other at the same point, and then run on one side of the battlefield each. So they take out the opponents on the skirting of the battlefield. Sara has a cutlass while Nick has twin daggers.

Greg: He can talk to nearby spirits and ask them to help his team in the fight. With the power of this necklace that he has, he can conjure a protective invisible dome-shaped barrier around himself, which is invulnerable to any and every form of attack. Except if somebody were to dig their way up from below him of course. However, he has to stay in the same spot when he is inside this barrier, and has to deactivate it if he wants to walk (or run or whatever) somewhere else. The spirit of the person who gave him the necklace follows him everywhere, and stays by his side on the battlefield to protect him from any opponents who manage to get close. Greg has a curved cleaver in case he needs to fight.

Al: Aside from being a healer, he can freeze time. Sort of. He can freeze the movement of anybody who is coming at him, no matter how many there are. He does not wield weapons. He has wooden legs (which are enchanted to be completely painless for him) and a staff, but without the power that Gil's and Heather's have. To heal someone, he just has to touch them, for as long as it takes for the wounds to completely heal. **I was thinking about making him have something to do with necromancy, but I thought that that's too much like Greg's power.

David: He is the other healer, and is the one who kills the people that Al freezes. He just makes them fade out of existence. It is completely painless, and that way they don't have any bodies lying around the healers' area. Also, while Al heals physical injuries, David actually cures illnesses. So he has to touch his patient for as long as it takes to eradicate the infection.

The two healers typically stay in one spot, ready to head out into the battlefield if any of their teammates are injured.

Archie: He is the cryokinetic guardian of Henry, Wendy, Mandy, and Hodges, who are not combatants. He does not use weapons.

Henry: He is a blacksmith, in charge of repairing the people's weapons, and making new ones if necessary. He also makes the arrows for Gil and Bobby.

Wendy: She is an enchanter who imbues weapons with offensive powers, such as the quake and blast effect on Warrick's hammer, or the enhanced sharpness of the speedster twins' blades.

Mandy: She enchants weapons with defensive powers, such as Greg's necklace, or Gil's and Heather's staves. She is also the one who made Al's wooden legs painless.

Hodges: While Al and David are physical healers, and while Wendy enchants weapons, Hodges is the one who restores the powers of other people. He is not really drained when he does it, but it is better for him to stay still and rest while other people fight. It works exactly how Al's and David's healing does.

These five people typically stay near the healers.

Jim: He can control the weather. That also means he can summon lightning. And hailstones. And rain (creatures that are made of fire or lava are susceptible to rain). Like Catherine, he has his hands free to focus whatever he's bringing down from the sky onto wherever his target is. His cloak is pitch black in colour.

Conrad: He can clone himself; up to five clones of himself can exist at a time. It's alright if they are hurt or killed; so long as he is still alive. He wields a scythe. His cloak is a really dark grey, almost black, but not really.

Morgan: She can fly. This is not a power which requires restoration. Since she does not use wings, she can fly in rain. She uses twin swords.

Sofia: She is a shapeshifter. But she can not only turn into other creatures; she can turn into objects like a boulder or something. In such forms, she is invulnerable to like, say, a fist striking her, but if someone were to try and blow her up, she would have to turn into something else and run away. You know those fire creatures I mentioned? If she turns into one of them, she can harness their powers. Basically, she takes on the abilities of anything she turns into.

Riley: She can turn into any of her opponents, whether she has killed them herself of if they are standing right in front of her. Heather would be aware that this in fact Riley (telepathy yo), and Riley will work together with the person Heather is controlling. Unlike Sofia, while she becomes the mirror image of someone, she cannot have the skill level of the person she turns into. She herself is proficient with a club; if she turns into someone who was a swordsman, she would be wield a blade as well as them, and will continue to use her own weapon. If she turns into one of those fire creatures, she might be able to use their fire, but she doesn't have as fluent control over it as the original person. In fact, it is much safer for her to not turn into such creatures.

Ray: He has enhanced strength, which enables him to rotate his huge double-headed battle axe about his wrist above his head. And by "huge", I mean that the stick is almost as long as him, and the blades are bigger than his head. The stick is also quite thick; it has to withstand the weight of the blades, and the impact with which it is struck. By "rotate", I mean Ray is able to hold the handle at the very base, and pivot it perfectly around.

DB: Teleportation. This son of a bitch randomly popping up out of nowhere? Yeah. His weapon is a really small but especially sharp dagger, easy to conceal, and a quick and effective killer. He appears, quickly pokes his opponent, and then teleports to the next one. He can teleport anywhere within his viewing distance; he has to be able to see where he is teleporting to to go there. His cloak is silver in colour.

Finn: She is pyrokinetic. Her cloak is typically orange, yellow or red, but it can change colours to whatever fire she is wielding, which includes green, blue, purple, white, and even black fire. She does not use weapons.

Additional idea: Gil and Sara are soulmates. But they were not fated from birth; rather, their soulmate bond formed when their connection deepened. Before they met, their soulmates could have been anyone else, or they could have gone without a soulmate for the rest of their lives. Even when they met and fell in love at first sight (I'm one of those who hc that they did; ymmv), they were not yet soulmates. It was when they really got to know and understand each other implicitly and became unbreakably steadfast in their connection, of their own accord, that their soulmate bond formed. The physical manifestation of it was when their soul marks appeared; Gil has a butterfly on the right side of his neck, close to the back of his neck, and Sara has a rhinoceros beetle on the underside of her left wrist. Being soulmates, they can heal each other and restore each other's powers. The most soothing times for them to do it is when they can lie down somewhere private and hold each other close.

When their marks first appeared, everyone kept congratulating them; there was a lot of friendly teasing from Warrick, Nick, Greg and Hodges. As for themselves, they remained passive until they were in the privacy of their bedroom. They sat down on the edge of the bed, embracing and leaning their foreheads on each other's, uncontainable smiles on their faces as they had a little heart-to-heart. They did not really have to vocalise much; they had always been able to understand each other with just a few words. Then, they leant back from each other, but remained close. Sara lowered her head and slowly, reverently kissed all over Gil's mark; he closed his eyes and let her do it, enjoying how it felt, moving his head to one side so that his skin on the right of his neck was stretched flat and easier to kiss. When Sara was done, they leant back again. Gil lifted Sara's wrist to his mouth and kissed all over her mark, with as much care and adoration as she had done his.

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omniscientwreck · 3 years

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Hi🖤 Omni! If you're looking for a fic request I've got one.

Okay so Essek is Feeblminded by remaining Volstrucker at his tower. Verin came to visit later that day and has been taling care of Essek, as they both would be scared of the Umavi's wrath should someone find out.

Well Caleb comes to visit a few day's later and Certainly gets a surprise.

Fluff ensues.

I'm talking the Unicorn from Despicable Me level Fluffy😁😁😁

Hi Umbra! Sorry I'm incredibly late answering this, life is weird but I hope the length makes up for it! I know I said drabble but like this just turned into a whole fic so I hope you enjoy!

Verin had worried when Essek’s door hadn’t opened of its own accord, usually he knows when he’s arrived. Deciding something was certainly wrong he barges his way into his brother’s tower. He finds it silent which is normal but unnerving and the unnatural stillness as he calls for Essek has his hackles up.

His knuckles pale as he grips the hilt of his sword and searches methodically throughout the tower. Finding the main floor empty he heads up the stairs to the library. There’s a shuffle, a falling book, a whimper. He draws his sword, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The door is ajar and he can hear shuffling. He thrusts it open is momentarily relieved to see his brother. His hair is tousled and white is stained with flecks of red, his robes are torn and his mantle is askew.

He’s never seen him like this before and his heart lurches. Surprise and fear are plastered across his features, far more freely than Verin’s ever seen him feel. He doesn’t talk and he seems to not even recognize him. Checking the rest of the room, the sword is returned to its sheath and Verin crouches, reaching a hand to Essek.

“Brother, what happened?” Silence, a whimper. “Essek? What’s wrong? It’s Verin, your brother.” His brows unknot, and the tension in his jaw slackens. There’s a looseness to his demeanor and as he stands he waves his hand as if to float, but nothing happens. He tries again and again. The first try was decisive, after watching him for so long Verin knows what it looks like when he casts it. The second time it’s not quite right, the third time it gets looser still. By the time Verin has stopped counting and Verin has grabbed Essek’s hands to calm him it seemed like Essek didn’t know what he was attempting to do.

“Is this some kind of spell? What happened?” His brother looks up with the face of a stranger. His eyes are open and sad, his ears fall just a touch and Essek leans in to hug Verin. He’s never wanted to do that before.

Verin hugs him back. “Oh Essie, what are we going to do?”

Caleb approaches Essek’s tower and is struck by immediate concern when the door doesn’t open for him. Essek always lets him in when he arrives, and with everything that’s happened he immediately panics. Caleb tries to tell himself Essek must be busy and has missed him tripping the wards. So, he lifts the knocker and gives the door a few raps.

He’d asked Caleb to meet him here to assist in the transport of his most important items after their trip to Aeor. He needs to run, he knows it and Caleb knows that turning himself in to the Dynasty would mean certain death so he’s agreed to help. No amount of good will from the Bright Queen would let them bargain for his favour. Selfishly, Caleb won’t allow him to get caught, so he will harbor Essek for some time, helping him stay out of the eyes of the Dynasty.

Eventually he knocks again, beginning to hold a firebolt just in case. “Uh, just a minute,” calls a stranger’s voice from behind the wood. “I’ll be right there.”

The door opens just a crack, “Who is it?”

“I am Caleb Widogast of the Mighty Nein, who is this?” His hand is up and encircled in flame.

“Oh thank the Light, one moment.” Whoever he is, he’s clearly relieved. Caleb’s firebolt stays held.

As the door opens Caleb is greeted by a tall drow, muscular with long braided back hair. He looks familiar but Caleb cannot place him. His features are slowly fading into relief from what must have been a deep concern. “Hello Caleb Widogast, I am Verin Thelyss and I am so glad you’re here. Your the wizard yes?”

Nodding, bewildered as he’s being dragged into Essek’s home by his brother, Caleb can hardly remember to respond, “Uh ja, that’s me. Where is Essek?”

“Well so I came by a few days ago and he didn’t let me into the tower which was weird. There have been some rumors going around and when our mother said he was back I had to ask. I don’t know if you know but… well it’s bad.”

He’s leading him upstairs as he explains and the back of Caleb’s neck is on fire. Verin doesn’t know, but there are rumors that are most likely true. Is he too late?

“So, I’m hoping since you also practice the arcane you might know what’s happened here and how to solve it.”

He leads Caleb into the library and Essek is seated on a chair idly flipping through a book far too quickly. It doesn’t even look like he’s reading, Caleb knows what he looks like when he’s reading. The quiet concentration and the tension it brings his jaw is completely missing. When Essek looks up at him there’s recognition but no words and when he rises to make his way to Caleb, he walks.

He’s wide-eyed and has a sweet smile across his face, it’s difficult to look away but if he doesn’t the heat rising in his cheeks will show. “Essek, what is it mein Freunde?”

No words. Why can’t he talk and why isn’t he floating?

“Essek?” A gentle hand reaches up to rest on his cheek and the heat takes over at the abrupt contact. Especially with Verin standing over his shoulder observing them. “Verin how long has he been like this?”

“About 2 days. I didn’t really know what had happened and if the Umavi found out well… I’m unsure what she would do.” Verin is a little more easier to map out than Essek had been initially and he’s been told enough stories about Dierta to understand the undercurrent of Verin’s words.

“Ja, I understand.” Verin starts at that and Caleb just continues past it, “I believe he has been affected by the spell Feeblemind. I - ah - have experience with this kind of thing. We have friends that can cure him but I will have to contact them, which I will not be able to do until tomorrow.”

Essek’s hand has wound its way into Caleb’s and he tries and fails miserably to contain the blush that he knows is spreading to his ears. Memories of little touches in Aeor flood back and Caleb pushes away thoughts of conversations he’d promised they’d have later, after Essek was safe. To call to attention this thing between them and get it out in the open before it drives him mad. Even if Essek’s feelings do not align with his it will be better to have it in the open.

“So this isn’t hurting him?”

Caleb turns to Essek, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He remembers a blur of time, when his mind had failed him. He remembers terror, looking down at his hands and not knowing whose they were. He didn’t have an anchor, nothing but his own thoughts, with someone there it might be different. Essek can’t understand him but the tone of voice seems to elicit some positive emotions and Essek squeezes his hand, a contented smile across his face, “He seems alright to me. It is unpleasant to be cut off from your casting, but he isn’t in pain and he isn’t alone.” It’s difficult to mitigate the emotion bleeding into his voice.

He pushes down memories of the years he’d been locked away and squeezes Essek’s hand back, reassuringly. “Have you gotten him to eat?”

Verin nods, “Occasionally. Probably not as much as he needs. I’m not exactly an excellent cook and nobody can see him like this so I’ve sent his staff away.”

“Alright, well I’ll just do this then.” he begins casting the tower, “I understand if you want to stay but if you need to go I can care for him.” he wants Verin to leave, he wants him gone so badly, to just take care of Essek properly without the shadow of somebody who doesn’t know hanging over them.

“I should be back to Bazzoxan soon. They’ll begin asking after me.” Caleb finishes casting the tower and leads Essek in. Just before he enters, Verin stops him, “You mean something to each other. I’ve never seen him act this way before, granted there’s an arcane influence but genuinely he has never smiled like he did when he saw you. I trust you with this because I think he would. Do not betray that.”

Caleb nods, “Of course not. We’ve faced the most difficult challenges of my life together and with our friends. I will care for him.” Verin seems satisfied with that and makes to leave, and Caleb enters the tower to find Essek waiting in the centre of the tower. He has an idea of where he wants to go. As the tower door closes behind Verin, he and Essek begin to drift upwards. Essek opens his mouth as if to reflexively murmur ‘up’ as had become their custom in their long travels together and his brows knot in distress, as if he’s realized again that his voice will not come. Caleb reaches for his hand, to comfort him and says it for them both, to which Essek smiles.

The drow releases Caleb’s hand and begins to swirl around, never leaving the central column and Caleb is forced to mirror his motions lest they collide. He flashes back to a moment of levity when they’d first come to Aeor. They had showboated then, dancing around each other as their works often did. This Essek is less restrained and his eyes and nose crinkle into a genuine smile when Caleb joins his frivolity.

They stop at the ninth floor which Caleb had known to be Esseks’ destination and immediately Essek lays on the pillows he always places in the corner. Usually, on their research expedition, he tranced in his room but on particularly emotional days they both preferred an expanse of stars above them as they rested. It became tradition and over time they’d drifted closer and closer together, until they would sometimes come to consciousness to find that through the night Essek had curled into Caleb’s side or that their hands had wound together unknowingly.

Now, Essek’s eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open in wonder as though it’s his first time seeing it all over again. Caleb stands over him, following his gaze up to the idly shifting starscape above. Caleb is quickly distracted by the versions of them that traverse different paths. Sometimes in each other’s company, other times in solitude. In a few they hold hands or make contact at the shoulders. Those are the ones he likes the most.

When his gaze is pulled back downwards, Essek stares up at him with a tenderness that quickly turns to expectation. He’s arranged burgundy cushions across the floor beside him for Caleb and so he obliges. As he stretches out across the crude bed slender, cool fingers interlock his own and he lays back and tells Essek of the constellations he’s hidden among the stars.

When Caleb himself was in this state he remembered lacking familiarity. Nothing around him made sense and the upheaval of his life only moments prior had only amplified the disorientation of the magic that kept him prisoner for 11 years.

Essek has someone to watch over him, he’s in a place that evidently brings him much joy and in recent months he’s found himself halfway to peace. Caleb finds his heart swell at the idea of making this experience bearable.

The silence was always the worst so he points to guide the elf’s eyes as he tells them the stories behind each constellation. He tells him of Nila, gentle and fierce. Of Twiggy, ever optimistic and wholly delightful. He tells him about Reani who Essek has spent some time with. Brief recognition flashes across his face, though it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Caleb remembers. He remembers knowing that someone was there who he should recognize but not having the words to know he had forgotten their name. He was in terror and treated everyone as a threat. Essek treats everything with wonder and discovery. The innocence is sweet and a syrupy feeling pools in Caleb’s throat as he’s again confronted with the way his heart swells when Essek looks at Caleb with that same contented smile.

He scoots closer and this is entirely too much. The idea that this version of Essek may curl into his side willingly, while they were fully conscious where the other version cannot unsettles him. Instead he stands, offering his hand, “Why don’t we get you something to eat ja?” There’s a momentary droop of his ears, much more pronounced than any movement he’d seen before before he lifts Essek and they go down to the dining room.

If there is to be anything significant between them it cannot be spurred under these circumstances. Caleb has to know he means it. As they wait while he cats prepare what had become their usual fare while traversing Aeor, he defaults to telling stories. First he tells him of the tunnels they traversed to reach the Dynasty, crafting an illusion as well as he can of the crystalline caves they made camp in. Food arrives and he continues weaving story and image as Essek picks at the well spiced soup comprised mainly of squash and potato. As he crafts an illusion of the dragon turtle they’d fought just after the peace talks out of amber and morphs its shape to a smaller turtle and then a sea slug, laughing to himself at the absurdity, he notices the clink of Essek’s spoon has long subsided.

Glancing over electric eyes focus on him instead of the illusion, so he drops it. “Ah, Es tut mir Leid, I know I tend to get carried away.” A little contented noise bubbles from Essek’s throat and his heart squeezes. In a desperate attempt to try and get Essek to eat more he turns back to his own soup and looks expectantly over to his friend.

Giving him a look of exasperation, he mirrors Caleb and eats most of the soup. Caleb rips up bread and encourages him to dip it in what’s left of the soup and finally, the bowl is empty. They leave the cats to clean up and Essek’s hand grasps Caleb’s again and squeezes. He knows he shouldn’t draw conclusions or let himself be taken by these gestures that the man wouldn’t make if he’d had the presence of mind, but it’s turning into a losing game.

With the time spent on the ninth floor and the prolonged battle of coaxing Essek to eat they only have a few hours until sleep. Essek takes his customary seat on the couch in the study and Caleb withdraws some of the lighter fiction that now populates the shelves. Lying back on the sofa, feet resting on the armrest, head by Essek he holds up the copy of Der Katzenprinz to show the illustrations. “You seem to like hearing me talk so why don’t I share this with you? Either way you won’t understand what I say so I will read it to you as it was originally intended.”

He begins, in Zemnian to tell him the fairy story that had brought him so much joy as a child, and the cats bring them hot chocolate as instructed. Warm mug in hand, Essek sits patiently through the story and as it turns to a close, picks up another of the books Caleb has gathered and thrusts it upon his chest. A real laugh bubbles up at that and he obliges.

As the night winds on and the mugs are emptied, Essek’s hand winds its way through Caleb’s hair, gently combing. When he looks up at Essek he’s met with soft, drooping eyes and a plain smile laced with nothing but care. He tries to stop Essek over the course of the book but finds that the drow always goes back to his hair so eventually, he leaves it. When Essek’s breaths even and elongate and he’s having trouble keeping his eyes open, Caleb sends him to trance.

He’s met with a slightly mournful look as Essek settles into the cushions he’s provided for trancing, but Caleb squeezes his shoulder, “If something goes wrong the cats will know to come get me. This is for the best.” Looking not at all reassured, but staying in place, Essek lets him leave without protest.

In the middle of sleep, dreamless and warm, there’s pressure. Then a caterwaul cuts through his subconscious followed by several more. He awakes with a start and immediately the cats gather around his feet as he pulls on slippers. They lead him to Essek’s room, where through the closed doors he can hear the sounds of furniture being disturbed.

Barging in, heart pounding, he finds Essek with tears streaming down his face. “Essek Schatz what’s wrong?” He kneels, abandoning any sense of propriety or boundaries and as he collapses into Caleb’s arms with nearly silent sobs he’s struck by how small the other man is.

“It’s alright Essek, whatever it was it cannot hurt you. I will keep you safe as you have done me.” They’ve never talked about the nights when the cats would do the same to Essek as they’d done to Caleb. When he’d been awoken from nightmares with angry red scratches down his forearms and a friend to bandage them. They’ve never quite discussed the comfort in Essek trancing just beside Caleb’s bed on difficult nights and he’s tried to stifle contemplation about the safety the man brings to his subconscious. The timing wasn’t right and despite his own longing he couldn’t make that step towards Essek. Not then.

Now, however, the elf shudders in his arms and he brings him into his lap, lighting soft amber globules of light to examine Essek. When he finds no physical harm he puts them out again and draws him in tighter as Essek clutches at the sides of his nightshirt and curls into his chest. He sings gentle lullabies his mother had once used to soothe him, voice cracking slightly as he flexes it in a long forgotten way. Eventually the shaking stops and breath becomes more solid, but hands stay grasped into his shirt so, with assistance from the cats, he maneuvers them into an easier sleeping position. Ever determined, Essek stays in his arms the whole time and when he tries to encourage him to trance beside him, arms wind around his waist.

“Okay, okay. If this will help.” Caleb resigns himself to creaky joints the next morning and sleeps with Essek in his arms, pushing away any indulgent thoughts of future nights spent with him in the same orientation.

When he awakes Essek is gone from his lap, though their fingers are laced and his head rests atop the drow’s on his shoulder. “Guten Morgen Essek.” He startles and smiles over at Caleb. Open, honest, vulnerable. They need to fix this. “I just need to prepare and then we will see Jester ja?” He receives a blank stare in return and nods to himself. “I will be back in a few moments and then we will go to Nicodranas. Just wait here.” He leaves and dresses quickly, returning to find Essek essentially where he’d been left. He takes a moment to glance over his spellbook and concentrates as he casts Sending, “Hallo Jester, I need your assistance with a pretty big restoration. Can you help today?”

She sounds half-asleep as she responds, “Caleb? Oh hi! Yeah I can help, just come to mama’s, we’re in Nicodranas. Oh my gosh I have to tell you, the dragon turtle-” her word economy same as ever.

“Okay Essek, Jester can help. I don’t know where you kept your parasol but I’m sure she can make you another.” With that they head out the door and Caleb transports them safely to the Lavish Chateau. Essek’s hand never leaves his.

Upon arrival they’re beset by a shouted greeting and Jester crushes Caleb in a hug before even realizing the other man is there. “Ohmigod Essek hi! I missed you!” Instead of awkwardly patting her back as he usually does, he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her in. “Hey Caleb, what’s going on with Essek?”

She pulls back and sees his broad smile and dancing eyes and looks at Caleb distinctly concerned. “Ah- I’m afraid he is a victim of the Feeblemind spell. It’s what they used against me in… well.” Her face clouds with understanding. “He’s okay physically though, whoever attacked him clearly just needed him out of the way. If you can use Greater Restoration that will undo the effects. He’s been ah - rather clingy.”

She waggles her eyebrows at him, making suggestive noise, and gets out the required diamond dust, sprinkling it delicately over Essek who watches in wonder. She puts both hands on her shoulders and green radiant energy emanates from her and passes to him. Before long he’s shaking his head and stepping back, voice hoarse from disuse, “Where- Jester? Thank you oh my gods thank you.”

She grins back at him, “I’m glad you’re back Essek! It’s a good thing Caleb brought you here you were acting so weird-”

She’s cut off as he chokes out, “Caleb.” and looks over with a deep violet flush and wide, apologetic eyes. “I ah- I am sorry for putting you through that. I-”

“Nein, do not apologize. Maybe we should get back to your tower to try and piece together who did this to you and what they were after ja?’

Essek nods and casts his levitation cantrip, shoulders sagging with relief when it works. “Yes, of course. Thank you Jester, I’m sorry we can’t stay but-”

She hugs the both of them again, “It’s okay, you have lots to talk about probably I don’t know bye!” she gives Caleb a wink as he begins casting the spell again and to his surprise Essek’s hand winds itself in his as they vanish.

They’re back in the tower and Caleb looks down, Essek’s hand still in his. Essek drops it and there’s a flush set deep into his cheeks and it spreads to his cheeks as their eyes meet. “Caleb I-” he swallows “I remember most of what happened, though not very clearly. I um-” his eyes are downcast and Caleb braces for what he believes to be coming, “Thank you for your patience. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable it is very difficult to explain but I think you’re aware of the feeling. I didn’t exactly have my full faculties and I fear I broke boundaries that may have encroached too far on your hospitality and our friendship.”

It’s difficult to see him so apologetic for the affection displayed. This thing between them has gone unspoken quite too long and before he realizes it he’s speaking, “Don’t apologize for that Schatz, I ah- I didn’t mind. There’s something I think we ought to discuss fairly plainly because I do not want to mince words about the way I feel anymore, it’s tiring.”

Essek looks up to meet him, steeling himself and as Caleb is about to speak he cuts him off, “I am aware enough of how I acted to realize I cannot properly hide my feelings further.” He takes a deep breath, the back of Caleb’s neck is burning and time has all but frozen, “I care deeply for you Caleb. It is difficult to bring myself to those words for I know this is the last thing I deserve but here I am, a fool for you. I know that there were moments in Aeor, I hold them close to my heart as precious things in a life of solitude. If you do not do the same, if you do not feel the same I will remain your friend if you’ll allow it, your research partner, anything. But-” he looks down almost sheepishly, “I owe it to you to be forthright and so I will tell you that if you’ll have me, I would very much like to see where this takes us.”

A smile breaks across Caleb’s face as their eyes meet, “May I kiss you?”

Essek draws in a sharp breath, eyes wide, and nods. It takes Caleb only a moment to close the gap, hands sliding around Essek’s waist and over the back of his neck as he leads them together. Essek’s hands hold his shoulders and his eyes flutter closed as their lips meet, electricity and heat mixing. When they finally pull back they’re both flushed. Essek lets out a huff of a laugh and Caleb wraps him tightly as he brings him in again, smiling into another kiss.

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