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pholla-jm · 8 months

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Broken Glass

IMAGINE: BROKEN GLASS~ LUFFY X READER GENRE: HURT WARNINGS: MENTION OF VIOLENCE, SLAVERY, BLOOD/GORE. Nova's Notes: As I was writing this, I decided to do this in parts. So this is part one! ************************

Psychology says that if a person can love you unconditionally then that person can hate you unbelievably.

You used to love the world. Everything that was in it. You find beauty in everything.

That was until the day your village was raided. You were barely a teen when you were taken and sold into slavery for a celestial dragon.

The celestial dragon found a special interest in you. He loved how beautiful you were. Your outlook of the world. Even when you were chained up in a cage, you still somehow were optimistic. There was so much light coming off of you, and he…. He wanted to snuff it out.

He wanted to be the one to make you realize that the world was a shitty place. He wanted to ruin your outlook of the world. To make it seem so bleak.

So, every day, he would order you, beat you, do unthinkable things just to see you cry or the shimmer in your eyes finally become dull. Sure, you thought he was a disgusting man. But you wouldn’t say it out loud. You wouldn’t give him satisfaction. Well tried not to give him satisfaction.

It was even more disgusting that it brought the celestial dragon so much joy to finally see the shimmer and joy die in your eyes. He finally got what he wanted. And it was so much better than he thought it was going to be.

However, he found no use in you anymore. So, he just threw you to the side like you were trash.

You wondered how someone could be so vile and disgusting. You no longer saw the world in bright vibrant colors like you used to. Now you saw the world in monochrome, in black, gray and white. You no longer found joy in the wind blowing against your skin, or the sounds of animals that would scurry around you. Everything was just so bleak, and you hated that there was no end to it either.

That was until the chaos broke. Guns were being shot, screams ringing through the air. It reminds you of the day your own village was ruined.

However, you couldn’t really see what was going on because you were still trapped in the dingy jail that you considered your room.

There was suddenly a loud crash and dust filled your vision for a little bit. When the dust cleared you were able to see a stream of light in the room. Following the source of light, you see that there was a large hole in the wall.

‘This is my chance. I can get out of here…’ You thought to yourself as you stood on shaky legs.

It was almost too good to be true. You were worried that there was a worse fate out there.

But it was too late to turn back. You were already outside. The sky filled with gunpower smoke and people were running around. Pirates, marines and civilians.

Seeing all these people running around started to make you angry. The civilians, they were free, not chained to anyone. The marines, the people who were supposed to protect you, or rescue you from this cruel fate. The pirates, the ones that trashed your village and turned you in.

You wanted to hurt them. Hurt them all for just… just being themselves really. Why do they get to live their life while you were trapped? It wasn’t fair.

Psychology says that if a person can love you unconditionally then that person can hate you unbelievably. A beautiful mirror can turn into a dangerous weapon when broken.

Looking down- there are shards of glass on the ground. You could see your own reflection in it. You were covered and dirt, your face was unhealthily skinny, due to lack nutrition. There was a dull look in your eyes, and you hated it. It was like whispers entering your head. Telling you to pick it up. Just take it and use it! Hurt them like they hurt you.

Picking up the sharp glass in your hand – not even flinching at the sharp edges prodding into your skin – you chose your first victim.

A marine. An unexpecting victim that fell dead at your hand. He dropped to the ground and all you could do was stare at his lifeless body. You didn’t feel a single thing, and you hated it.

With a small shrug, you kept walking, looking for your next victim.

However, that was cut short when someone ran into you. Knocking you straight into the ground. A sharp gasp left your lips as you eyed the person that landed on you. The person wasn’t getting up and everything was just starting to get really painful.

Finally, the person sat up a little, fixing the straw hat on his head. Laughter blooming from his chest as he looks down at you. “Shiiishiishii sorry about that!”

When the weight was finally lifted off of you, you realized that the pain wasn’t coming from the weight, but from the glass that you were holding. It was now lodged into your side causing blood to flow out.

Shaky and painful gasps left your mouth as you tried to push the boy off of you. “Huh? What’s wrong?” He asks – oblivious to wound and blood.

“G-get off.” You strain while putting both your hands on his bare chest to try to push him off. But you were too weak to even budge him.

The boy looks down at his chest, seeing a bright red stain. His eyes widen, finally realizing what has happened.

When he looks back at you, he sees that your eyes were starting to lull to the back of your head. “Hey! Wait! Don’t go to sleep. I’ll take you to my Doctor. He’s the best.”

But his words fell on deaf ears. There was too much blood loss. On top of already being weak, it was impossible to push through this situation.

Before your eyes completely shut, there was one thing that stood out to you.

The boy on top of you sure was colorful.

#luffy x y/n #luffy x reader #one piece x you #onepiece x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #oneshot

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omegaremix · 3 months

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High Score Pinball + Game On; Spring 2021 & Spring 2022.

If you were an Eighties child, the video game was the pinnacle of your childhood. On Saturdays, my dad took me to the toy store where I sprinted to the game wall, have me choose any stamped ticket and hand it over the counter to customer service where they stocked all the solid state cartridges in the back. They’d hand me the game of choice and I was golden until next week. If I was lucky, he’d take us to Nunley’s Carousel in Baldwin where it was the final time in my life I’d play old electromagnetic machines and driving games that ran on paper sheets - and even film reels and plastic parts (Atari’s F1). We’d also go to Nathan’s in Oceanside. It, too, had an arcade there. Once we came back from his dietician or from my half-sister in Bensonhurst, he ended up taking the whole family for sit-in Chinese and to the Nellie Bly Amusement Park where for one time only I played Atari’s Superman and Hercules pinball tables.

Sunday was an even bigger event. My pop would drive from (also) Bensonhurst all the way out to Long Island where my family and I lived. He’d arrive anywhere between noon to 1PM and stay for an hour before taking me to the South Shore Mall. I’d have the luxury of two hours and $5.00 worth of quarters to play as many games as I could. Roadblasters, Space Harrier, Chase HQ, Marble Madness, skee ball - you name it, they had it, I played it. Pop would break it up and take me to The Emporium (later becoming Nathan’s and after that a sushi house that closed down in 2010) where they also had an arcade itself. Same time limit, same amount of pocket change. The neighborhood delis and convenience stores also had arcade and pinball machines where I clearly remember playing Seicross, Legion, Double Dragon, Ninja Gaiden, Shinobi, and other games too many to mention. I had the best of both worlds at home and beyond. By the time my grade-school years ended, I replenished the game collection my dad once sold for $50.00 and more thanks to my Dallas aunt and uncle.

The Brentwood era just started for me and Pop had a heart attack while watching the game. He woke up out of it but later relapsed and that was the end for him. I had to take it upon myself to ride my bike to the mall or the pizzeria in the local shopping center behind the middle school to get my Neo-Geo, Super Monaco GP, or Mortal Kombat fix. With reward came risk: Brentwood wasn’t a safe neighborhood compared to the others. Every day I worried about random newjacks and youngbucks coming up to me for handouts just for being seen. Seven or eight kids waiting their turn surrounded the Street Fighter machines at any one of three stores out of fifteen who had them; some even got jumped and assaulted over them because they were caught cheating. Chain-snatchers got the unsuspecting kids when their backs were turned, and even the resting bitch-faces came up to entice me to fight their boyfriends who tried stealing my bike.

As time went by, I moved on from the scummy parts. Visits to the arcades became less frequented no matter at the mall or the amusement park. The carousels and hot dog places went out of business. Console gaming, however, kept going with the Genesis, SNES, Dreamcast, and Playstation throughout my community college and Stony Brook era. I discovered MAME and VPinball so I could stay in touch with myself. I kept it all going until I was sick of dozing off and throwing my time away while my friends, co-workers, and associates made the best of theirs. I finally moved on from gaming, and all the best for it.

It was more than ten years since I played a game of pinball. The Sopranos to be exact. Almost no place on the island where one was to be found. But that all changed last spring when the Video Game Trading Post opened up Long Island’s very first pinball arcade in the South Shore Mall / Westfield. I was stunned and paralyzed. We never asked for it, let alone couldn’t even imagine happening, but we got it. We lost Manhattan’s Modern Pinball and Greenpoint’s Sunshine Laundromat was never the same after the pandemic, so having the arcade return (to the very place where it all started for me and not having to travel to the city for it) was the pale-skinned redheaded Godiva riding on the fucking horse.

It was amazement at first sight. I enter the mall and the sounds emanating from the dark space tells me I’m close. I finally found it. My soul pushed back because I couldn’t believe it. I walk in and the darkness swallowed me in as all the flashing lights, LEDS, and the brightly-lit back-panels fight to be noticed. For $25.00, sometimes $35.00, it was all-you-can-play. I walk around in the dark vortex and the place was huge of its concrete flooring and aromatic wood smell. All three Black Knight tables, all three Pinbots, both Firepowers, Bank Shot, Evel Knievel, Harlem Globetrotters, Tron Legacy, even Police Force when it was at Vinardo’s. I spotted Big Guns, a game I remember from my Nintendo childhood. To my amusement, it was real having to find that Slugfest returned to the exact same mall I played at during the Brentwood era. The best part? Learning that both High Speed and Nine Ball would make their stay. It would make that next return trip all the more urgent. High Speed was the very first machine I ever scored a million on, let alone three. And Nine Ball? The overall design and sound effects of it was a personal must-play for me.

All throughout last Spring and Summer I’d make the effort to be the first one there and the last one to leave. Noon to 8PM. I made one final trip to High Score- before the year was over, leaving it behind in its former incarnation forever. It’s now half of what it used to be. The other half is now home gaming and memorabilia. I knew it would never be as good after when I first found it and won’t expect it to be better. But I’ll never, ever forget it - just like I’ll never forget the ride to Williamsburg’s Rough Trade, the post-punk / d.i.y. and jazz-fusion finds, the Jewish girl from Queens with the straight shoulder-length hair and green eyes who asked me if I had a copy of KIDS, or the two pale gingers with brown eyes I spent forever with at my store. Another day, another payout.

The alignments had another card up its sleeve. The King of Diamonds would be super-ceded by the Ace. The Boy Harsher show was less than two weeks away and I had to visit the Smithhaven Mall to find me a leather jacket and black hat. I walked out with the hat but no jac-. And, as I was walking out, something caught my eye: a shiny colorful array of neon lights. I stop to look at my right and there it was: a new video arcade I never knew existed. I was shut. I step in and to my immediate right was Baby Pac-Man: a cabinet shaped like an upright with a CRT monitor and small pinball playfield below it. It was a machine I only read about but was curious to seek out. Now, here it is. But, I couldn’t go any further as entry was roped off. But I see the sign at the front desk: $20.00 free play all day. It’s 3PM, I wouldn’t get my money’s worth. But I owed it to myself to come back and visit, and visit I did.

The following Wednesday I came back at noon and paid the frail emo casualty up front my $20.00. Does he have any idea what he’s doing here or what this is all about? He wouldn’t care, really. He’s only here to collect and will elicit a fake half-enthusiastic “oh, uh…that’s cool!” when asked. I’m here to revisit my Atari / Nintendo childhood. Eight hours and no time to waste. Let’s have it.

I walk in and there’s three Pac-Man machines grouped together: the 1980 original that became the first-ever character franchise, Baby Pac-Man and Super Pac-Man. Across from it is Ms. Pac-Man. How shameful they couldn’t include her in the boys’ club. There were vector games in Tempest, Lunar Lander, Asteroids, and Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back in super-sharp and blindingly bright on original CRT monitors. There was Gorf, arguably my very first arcade memory living in Brooklyn. Classics such as Centipede, Marble Madness and Spy Hunter which I haven’t played in its true form since forever. Defender, Robotron 2084, and Berzerk rounded out three of four parts of the Williams epic (Blaster was the fourth). Moon Patrol, Galaxian, Zaxxon, Gyruss, Phoenix, Dig Dug, Vanguard, and Missile Command - games I played endlessly on the home system - were there. Crystal Castles, one I always played on the Atari 2600, felt super-frantic and ultra-responsive on my first time ever playing it. Pengo and Mr. Do! - two games I remember my sis- B-Bomb telling me about - were finally crossed off the must-play list.

I found two extremely rare Nintendo Vs. red tents and with that came Donkey Kong, Donkey Kong Jr., Donkey Kong 3, Punch Out, Popeye, and the original Super Mario Bros. which I always used to play at the neighborhood deli (thanks ma’). Even more impressive was the fact that they had Playchoice machines when the South Shore Mall had them. I walk further and there’s Bad Dudes and the first Double Dragon: agonizingly slow and sluggish as fuck like I remembered it.

There’s driving games such as Super Sprint, Crazy Taxi, Chase HQ, and The Cruisin’ series. But, none more important than Sega’s Hang-On and Outrun, one which my younger bro- and I fought over to play first when our parents took us to the ice cream parlor. Next to those were Virtua Cop and Point Blank which I had zero interest playing because it wasn’t Cheyenne.

Konami, known for some of the best multi-player titles ever, made their presence felt with Super Contra, The Simpsons, Sunset Riders, X-Men, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; the final being the gateway and the token example of nostalgia. There was the fighters’ row: Mortal Kombat II, Virtua Fighter, Tekken 4, Killer Instinct, Marvel Vs. Capcom 2, and Street Fighter II; that final one the basis of my early Brentwood years hanging out in dangerous neighborhoods and being harassed by the youngbucks in pizzerias for quarters. How about not one, not - fuck it - four Neo-Geo MVS’s with such games as Metal Slug 4, Ninja Warriors, Fatal Fury 2, and Samurai Shodown all plugged in and more. Three of those four aforementioned Neo-Geo games all happened during various points of my Brentwood era, coincidentally at the same shopping center as the pizzeria and that down-low mom-and-pop video store in Central Islip.

There were pinball tables such as Spider-Man, Stranger Things, and Star Wars: Episode 1, but couldn’t ever compare to what High Score used to have. Foosball, (a rare) Super Chexx, a Ms. Pac-Man & Galaga cocktail machine, and even Alley Cats: a shuffleboard-slash-bowling hybrid were found. Never played anything like it. Sports-themed uprights in NBA Jam, NHL Ice, and Blades Of Steel which I played all of three minutes before walking away from it and headed for Arkanoid: Revenge Of Doh. I was even taken back by seeing games I never knew existed: Warp Warp and Lady Bug. And finally…Smash TV. I wasted an hour of my valuable life on cheap deaths and repetitious gameplay. I’ll never ever recommend it.

I look above and there was a scoreboard with all the high scores and initials written in chalk. Twin Galaxies this wasn’t and thankfully there were no Billy Mitchell sightings. Another thing up above us was a mural of Blaze, Axel, and Adam of Sega’s Streets Of Rage, deemed one of the best and most successful side-scrolling beat ‘em-ups ever. Further back of the arcade I found a bar set-up and a big projector screen behind it for anyone wanting to play Mario Kart on the big-screen. I looked hard enough to find authentic original operator’s manuals of Jungle Hunt, Centipede, Xevious, Asteroids, and Missile Command framed and hung on the wall. I also laserdiscs also framed and hung on the wall near the arcades storefront. Flashdance, License To Drive, Vision Quest, and - I kid you not - Dirty Dancing. Which reminded me…where the hell were Dragon’s Lair and Space Ace? And no Eighties’ fantasy world wouldn’t be complete without at least two small CRT TV’s set up to play Super Mario Bros. 3 and E.T. It was the perfect set-up found in millions of kid’s rooms everywhere. And they still weren’t done.

The one thing Game On had that High Score Pinball didn’t, and this is the major validator here, was the Eighties soundtrack streamed on the overhead. High Score- only had the natural sound of licensed one-liners, PCBs, electromagnetics, and solid states emanating all the bells and hard solenoid knocks of free games. Only once had they brought out a portable speaker blasting Ozzy’s Nineties hits and alternative. Not Game On. Every song was an unforgettable Eighties throwback. It had to be to fit within the nostalgic theme of gaming’s wonder years of the very-late Seventies to the mid-Nineties.

The Seventies will always be something I’ll explore because it’s a decade I mostly missed out on. Exploring and discovering obscure jazz / fusion, soul, groove, and the hits are all a product of my fascination with hip-hop and rap’s sampling culture, console gaming, money shows, chyrons, station i.d.’s, production logos, opening and closing credits, and promos-. The Eighties were different because I lived through them 100% and still remember it clear as day. I can appreciate new wave, synthpop, the new romantics, Billboard hits, freestyle, radio plays, hair metal, and anything else I listened to as part of my Atari / Nintendo childhood. The arcade’s streaming playlist (could they not afford a cassette player?) was paired with the many original arcade cabinets of their time and served its nostalgic purpose, as intended, to its full unbeatable meaning.

With almost every song played on the overhead there were more childhood memories that followed them. J. Geils Band’s “Centerfold” was my first-ever music memory when my other half-sister played it constantly on our turntable in our family’s second-floor Borough Park apartment. The night my dad threw the Christmas tree out on the porch and my ma’ taking both my younger brother and I to stay at gramma’s for a few days. Riding in the passenger’s seat of our white rusted ‘78 Cadillac Coupe Deville and the bubbled rainbow that formed at the top of its windshield. Being stuck on the side of the Southern State Parkway heading home as my younger bro- and I rode in the backseat with toy dashboards. The trips in my parents rusty beige Chevy van where its crusty steel interior and the smell of petrichor created a viciously sickening mess. The two ‘79 yellow and blue AMC VAM Pacer X’s my parents had. Hurricane Gloria and the week-long power outage. Friday night’s Miami Vice. Saturday afternoons spent in the basement playing Atari and watching WWF and NWA. Saturday night’s Golden Girls where the whole family died laughing. Sunday’s Long Island pop station WBLI’s Top Ten countdown on public access television. Our babysitter’s daughter who was the cutest thing of curly black hair, dark eyes, and tall stature who smelled like sparkle and white plush. My bro- and I taking apart our ma’s floral-print couches and making pillow forts out of them. Dad’s in-wall Akai eight-track player and the overhead speakers. Easter’s various assortment of sweet-smelling wax crayons and activity books. Nights spent watching New York Yankee games on PIX, New York Rangers on MSG, Night Flight and Dance Party USA. Family dinner night at Enzo’s in Bay Shore for minestrone, calzones, and newspaper clippings of Italy’s World Cup victories. Assholes in Chams tank-tops smoking in their garages while working on their prized ‘77 Trans Ams. Playing NES all night before getting ready to ride to Staten Island at three in the morning to pick up my dad’s side of the family.

The more I played the more I immersed myself back into familiar territory that I haven’t visited in decades. It’s an absolute rarity when all the right authentic elements that used to be come together as one and re-create a near-perfect rendition of what the Eighties felt like. It’s not just the soundtrack, the manuals and laserdiscs that supplanted the setting, but the actual aesthetic itself. See the decals on the side of the cabinets and the built-in one-of-a-kind joysticks and steering wheels. The amazing control panel artwork. Plenty of CRT monitors and their rasterized graphics, scanlines, ripples, burn-in, and scrambled graphical glitches. Buttons, plenty of buttons of all types. And no more having to bang on the steel coin doors when those quarters got jammed. Not a burn mark in sight and the smell of old wood cabinets filled the room - exactly how I remembered it all.

It was nearing 9PM. The trip back in time was about to end and the mall was finally winding down. I had to have one last game in before having to walk off memory lane and say goodbye. That idiot kid wasn’t there but was replaced by some cute skinny hipster girl punk with pink hair and ladened with piercings, eager to talk to any cliched grown-up punk dad or fading former Gen-X’er wanting to share a story or two about how they missed those simpler days. I’ll never get the spirit and being of the Eighties back, but I no longer miss them now that I have a monthly pilgrimage to Game On. I retire for the night and head out. She unhooks the velvet rope and clears the way for me to leave with a smile.

“Have a good night!” she says. You know I will.

Heart: “Magic Man”

Eddie Money & Ronnie Spector: “Take Me Home Tonight”

Run DMC: “It’s Tricky”

Cutting Crew: “I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight”

Toto: “Africa”

A-Ha: “Take On Me”

Foreigner: “Waiting For A Girl Like You”

Bananarama: “I Heard A Rumor”

Wham: “Wake Me Up Befoe You Go-Go”

Mike & The Mechanics: “Silent Running”

Michael Jackson: “Billie Jean”

Rick Springfield: “Jessie’s Girl”

Bruce Springsteen: “Dancer In The Dark”

Pat Benetar: “Love Is A Battlefield”

J. Geils Band: “Centerfold”

Simple Minds: “Don’t You Forget About Me”

Tommy Tutone: “867-5309 / Jenny”

Cyndi Lauper: “Girls Just Wanna’ Have Fun”

Pointer Sisters: “I’m So Excited”

Starship: “We Built This City”

Steve Winwood: “Higher Love”

Whitney Houston: “I Wanna’ Dance With Somebody”

Survivor: “The Search Is Over”

The Outfields: “I Don’t Wanna’ Lose Your Love Tonight”

Flashdance original motion picture soundtrack

The Romantics: “What I Like About You”

Scorpions: Rock You Like A Hurricane”

Quiet Riot: “Come On (Feel The Noise)”

Pointer Sisters: “I’m So Excited”

Fabulous Thunderbirds: “Tough Enough”

Steve Perry: “Oh Sherrie”

Madonna: “Borderline”

Tiffany: “I Think We’re Alone Now”

Belinda Carlisle: “Mad About You”

Debbie Gibson: “Out Of The Blue”

Phil Collins: “Sssudio”

Lionel Richie: “All Night Long”

RUM DMC & Aerosmith: “Walk This Way”

Rick Astley: “Never Gonna’ Give You Up”

Bananarama: “Cruel Summer”

Cyndi Lauper: “Time After Time”

Kim Carnes: “Bette Davis Eyes”

Sting: “Every Breath You Take”

Heart: “What About Love”

Foreigner: “I Wanna’ Know What Love Is”

Bruce Springsteen: “Jack & Diane”

Mr. Mister: “Take These Broken Wings”

Bangles: “Hazy Shade Of Winter”

Don Henley: “Boys Of Summer”

Dire Straits: “Money For Nothing”

The Cars: “Shake It Up”

Peter Gabriel: “Big Time”

Bon Jovi: “Livin’ On A Prayer”

Allanah Myles: “Black Velvet”

Culture Club: “Karma Chamelion”

Mike & The Mechanics: “All I Need Is A Miracle”

Starship: “Sarah”

Wham: “Wake Me Up (Before You Go Go)”

Billy Ocean: “Caribbean Queen”

#omega #music #mixtapes #playlists #personal #Long Island #Eighties #gaming #arcades #pinball

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high-lady-of-earth · 3 years

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Court of Nightmares

Azriel x Reader Oneshot

Summary: You and Azriel must go down to the Court of Nightmares. Afterwards, you find out that Az is a little insecure about his scars. This incorporates a prompt I received from @spaghettinoode1234

Hope you enjoy:)

You were the newest addition to the inner circle. You were a high fae, formerly a human, who had been Made during the war with Hybern.

You had a tenuous relationship with society after being alone for years in Hybern, so your residence had become the House of the Wind, which you actually enjoyed, unlike the others. Nesta had been glad to let you live with her and Cassian.

It was once again time for the Solstice and with it came presents. You had to buy presents for Feyre, Rhys, Elain, Mor, Armen, and Azriel. Nesta and Cassian were away on a mission. But with the solstice, came another, darker thing. The visit to the Court of Nightmares.

You were a sort of jammer when it came to magic. Your powers functioned to block the magic of others. With tensions rising in the Hewn City, Rhys wanted you and Azriel to pay Kier the annual visit.

Mor had informed you that Azriel wanted to go tonight, so you had to get your shopping out of the way today because solstice was tomorrow. Clad in a pair of loose pants and a long sleeved mesh top, you bundled up in a fur coat and winnowed to the Palace of Threads and Jewels.

Surveying the vendors, you looked for gifts for your friends. Rhys provided you with more money than you needed, so cost wasn’t an issue. You already had a rough idea of what you wanted to get for everyone. For Feyre and Rhysand, you wanted to find something for Nyx.

For Elain, you had seen a cart that sold rare flowers from the continent. They were roses, but enhanced with magic to sparkle in the daylight. Elain was working hard in the garden’s of Feyre and Rhys’ new house, and you knew they would look perfect on a trellis next to a fountain.

Mor was the easiest to shop for. You described an outfit to a tailor you wanted made and you were waiting for it to be finished. The ensemble consisted of a blouse, cropped to where the ribs ended, covered in thousands of glass beads. The skirt was the prettiest pink color with a slit up the side and an embroidered border made of glass beads at the top and bottom. Perhaps the most striking was the shawl, which drew on Eastern styles and was covered in the most beautiful embroidery and rhinestones. You had truly outdone yourself.

Armen was even easier. You had walked into Velaris’ most expensive jewelry store and had immediately found a something for Amren. It was a delicate necklace with a large stone in the middle. It was a red stone that changed color with the light, shifting between pink, red, and orange hues. You asked the lady what the stone was and learned that legend said it was a single scale from a dragon, given to the jeweler’s ancestor many thousands of years ago. The jeweler had decided to part with it suddenly after the war.

The last gift was for Azriel. You had absolutely no idea what to get him. He had saved your life, and you were head over heels for him, but it seemed as though there was a deep sadness to him. Mor had told Azriel that she preferred females, but he didn’t take it too well. He was still healing and you didn’t want to push him. Thus, you had no idea what was considered an appropriate gift.

You walked through the carts aimlessly, when suddenly an idea came to your mind. From experience, you knew that Azriel’s hands got ice cold. He couldn’t put on gloves because of his siphons. You would have someone make leather gloves lined with fur with an opening for his siphons. You asked a tailor to make the gloves and then started wandering again, looking for baby items.

You came across a cart selling baby jewelry and immediately found what you wanted to give Feyre and Rhys. It was a circlet, made of diamonds and onyx that represented the night court. It was beautiful and expertly crafted. The woman selling it told you it was one of a kind. She had not made any others to sell. You paid the woman in gold coins and gathered the rest of your presents. Then, you winnowed back to the House of Wind.

When you winnowed into the living room, you were startled by Azriel’s presence. He was sitting in chair, shrouded by darkness, looking at your intently. He held a box in his hands, which you knew contained the clothes you would have to wear.

“Time to go already?” You asked him.

“Indeed it is, Y/n.” He murmured. You loved the way Azriel’s voice was deep and smooth when he talked to you, making it almost sensual.

Azriel got up from the chair and banished his shadows to the edge of the room. You could now see his lean form without the darkness of the shadows. Azriel wore his Illyrian fighting leathers as well as his siphons. However, he had decided to forgo some of his armor, displaying enticing planes of his skin on his abdomen and back. You imagined how the muscles in his back would ripple as he walked.

Azriel approached you and gave you the box. He told you that he had brought Cerridwen and Nuala to help you get ready and that he would be waiting here, in the living room. You nodded and walked to your bedroom. Inside, were Cerridwen and Nuala with a steaming bath. They helped you strip off your clothes and then scrubbed your skin raw, rubbing in scented oils.

Once they had dried you off, they brought out your outfit. It was a midnight blue gauzy dress that was more conservative than Feyre’s Court of Nightmares outfit. You had to admit, the dress didn’t look bad at all. It had a plunging neckline that went down to the waist and two slits up the side of the dress that went up to your hips, but the opaque midnight fabric was overlaid with a translucent tulle blue fabric. Your legs were covered. Cerridwen put the dress on you and then Nuala sat you down to do your hair.

She blew it out, straightening it to get rid of the frizz, then she curled the edges. In the front, she grabbed some hair on each side and braided a thin strand, which she clipped in the back using a silver hair clip inlaid with midnight blue gems. Then, Nuala grabbed loose stones and threaded them into your hair.

Next, Cerridwen and Nuala worked on your makeup. They stayed simple, doing a smokey eye, eyeliner, and mascara for your eyes and a mauve berry lip gloss for your lips. They finished by dusting a silver shimmery powder over your cheeks. Cerridwen handed you a pair of silver strappy heels, which you put on and walked back to the living room.

Azriel looked up at you and your eyes met. For a split second, you thought you saw heat in his eyes, but it went away and you thought you might have imagined it.

“I’m giving you your solstice gift early, Y/n.” Azriel said, bringing out another large velvet box. He opened it to reveal several pieces of midnight blue jewelry, all the same color of his siphons.

“They’re all so beautiful.” You whispered to Azriel, looking up at him. He moved around to the back of you and helped you put on the necklace.

“They are nothing compared to you.” Azriel said. Your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t respond. You put on the dangling earrings and bracelets and ring.

“I’m ready to go.” You told Azriel. He stood behind you and put an arm around your waist, getting ready to fly you there.

“You remember the drill, right? You sit on my lap and tell me what people are thinking. Block their magic if you think they are a threat.”

“Yup. The whole Daemati drill.”

Azriel’s arm tightened around your waist and the two of you suddenly traveled through the fabric of space and time itself. The world whooshed around you and you closed your eyes so you wouldn’t get dizzy. Then, almost as suddenly as you disappeared, the throne room of the Hewn City materialized around you.

Azriel had winnowed the two of you onto the single throne on the dais, Feyre’s throne absent since it was only Azriel presiding over the court today. Rhysand had even give Azriel permission to sit on the throne. You had been positioned on top of Azriel’s strong thighs, the thin fabric of your dress allowing you to feel his heat even through his thick Illyrian leathers.

Kier stood in front of the throne, along with about fifty other people. The room was dark, only a few strategically-placed fae lights provided light. This, however, suited Azriel because his shadows could run rampant.

“Welcome to the Hewn City, General.” Kier said in a pleasant tone that undoubtedly was laced with venom underneath. Nobody here wanted to bow to the beautiful male she perched on top of. They disregarded the Illyrian heritage that made him so powerful. So awe-inspiring.

Azriel gave Kier a bored look as if to say get on with it. Kier flicked his glance to you and paused. Azriel’s arm moved around your waist and stopped so that his fingers grazed your hip.

“Who, if I may ask, is this?” Kier asked. You swallowed some fear. Mor’s father had taken an interest in you — not a good sign. You stilled and became stiff against Azriel. His other hand snaked around to rest on top of your thigh. A mark of ownership clear to Kier and the rest of the court.

“She isn’t anyone special. Just a new one to grace my arm today.” Azriel said with cold steel in his voice. You knew Azriel’s words were lies for the court, but it still stung to be called a nobody. The others looked like they believed Azriel, but Kier didn’t. He silently noted how Azriel’s hand had moved to your thigh, almost like a warning.

You knew that Kier wasn’t fooled by your pathetic act and could tell something else was going on here. You cursed inside your head — you desperately needed to do something. You used your power to push a little at the dark sleek walls of Azriel’s mental defenses. He noted your presence and let you in.

“Kier isn’t buying the act.” You said inside his head. “We need to be more convincing.”

You pulled out of Azriel’s mind as his hand, the one on your waist, moved to the neckline of your gown. He began to toy with it, the only indication that he had understood your words.

You could feel Azriel’s callused fingers through the flimsy fabric of your dress. His hand moved over your right breast, and you sucked in a breath as his fingers grazed over your chest.

“You’re doing great, Y/n.” Azriel whispered in your ear. The hand on your thigh inched closer and closer to your core, and you felt yourself flush with embarrassment. You were frozen in place, watching Kier, who’s expression slackened as he undoubtedly scented your very real arousal, and along with it, banished any doubts about you being a threat.

Inwardly, you were mortified, but you didn’t let it show. Azriel’s fingers finally reached your inner thigh, where they played with the fabric of your dress.

“So, Kier, how goes the operations down here?” Azriel asked in his deadly voice. You didn’t hear Kier’s response because Azriel’s hand had suddenly began to rub circles through your dress. You couldn’t concentrate on anything and you felt Azriel stiffen behind you.

You went back into Azriel’s mind. “Everyone is good. Nobody’s plotting anything.” You said. Azriel gave a slight nod.

“Kier, you may go. I’m done with you for today.” Azriel said, dismissing him from the throne room. The hall bustled with activity as other members of the Hewn City moved around. You felt Azriel’s lips on your ear before he began to speak, his fingers once again teasing you through your dress.

“Y/n, I can barely concentrate on everyone’s words. Your scent is overpowering and it’s getting difficult to fight my own instincts. I should fly you back to the House of Wind.” He stated in a husky voice.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll stay with you. Don’t fight it, Azriel.” You said.

“I won’t be able to control myself, Y/n.” He replied. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered as Azriel said that. You already had your answer though. In response to him, you moved one of your hands on top of Azriel’s, the one playing with the neckline of your dress. You closed your fingers over his hand and gently moved it to your heart, which was beating furiously in your chest.

You felt the world darken around you as shadows enclosed yours and Azriel’s bodies. The world spun for a few seconds, but it mercifully stopped as you arrived in the House of Wind. Azriel’s winnowing sometimes made you dizzy.

You were so close to Azriel that your chests were almost touching. Your gaze moved from his eyes to his lips and you could palpably feel the room go warmer. Instinctively, you knew that Azriel’s own eyes had moved down to your lips too. It would be so easy to lean forward an inch and press your mouth against his.

You closed your eyes as the tension between you two simmered and waited for the searing kiss Azriel would place on your lips. But you were left with a gust of brisk, cool air instead. You opened your eyes, but only to see that Azriel had turned away from you and started waking. You felt the anger rise up in you as you took a step after him and grabbed his shoulder.

“You do not get to pull that stunt down there and then ignore me, Azriel.” You huffed. He didn’t even turn around.

“Was it true? Am I just some eye candy that you brought along? Do you not even care about how that made me feel?” You questioned. You saw Azriel bristle, and a part of you was satisfied that he responded.

“Of course you mean something to me, Y/n. That’s why we can’t.” He whispered.

You stepped in front of Azriel and placed your hands on your hips.

“I don’t see how refraining from kissing me shows that you care about me.” You pointed out. Azriel looked away from you, towards the floor.

“I-I’m not a good guy, Y/n. You deserve someone who’s better than I am. Someone who is just a perfect and beautiful as you are.” He said. In the corner of your eyes, you saw Azriel tuck his hands into his pockets.

You quickly reached your hands into his pockets and curled your fingers around his hand. Then, you brought out his hands.

“You know that being perfect doesn’t matter to me. Your scars are beautiful, Azriel. If you don’t believe me about that, then at least believe that they give you character.” You replied.

Azriel looked unsure, so you brought his hands to you face and gently set your lips on his palms, tracing the scar tissue with kisses.

“I think you’re handsome and beautiful and perfect— scars and all.” You whispered.

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lovextriangle · 3 years

Text

Imagine Thorin before The Unexpected Journey

a/n: early release draft, I’ll probably edit more later!

You were never one to fall for the brooding type, but there was no stopping for the inevitable.

The dwarves showed up out of nowhere. They were passing through Gondor on their way to Dunland where Thror, Thrain, and Thorin had decided that place was their best option. Many of their following had dwindled, most headed for the Blue Mountains or the Iron Hills. Dunland was a place of no importance, it was just a place for them to seek refuge. They had no plans of staying there, for the true goal was to take back their home, Erebor. Though a plan like that already had people grimacing for the bloodshed was still fresh and the loss was many. How could they overcome a beast that had defeated them so easily on their own home front.

They needed allies, they needed help, not from men, and definitely not from the elves, but from their own people, dwarves assisting other dwarves. That is what Thorin thought anyways. But with supplies running low and spirits at an all time downward spiral, they would have to start from the ground up.

About a month after the traveling dwarves had passed through Gondor and finally settled into the neighboring Dunland, Thorin seeked out work. The big city was the best place to look for it, though no one cared about the tragedies a person had been through, if you had no talent or skill, you wouldn’t find a job. Luckily dwarves were brimming with skills and their expertise was known for crafting weapons. The grandson of the King Under the Mountain, became a blacksmith of Gondor for the sake of putting food on the table. He had a perpetual frown on his face as if it was engraved there permanently.

He had all the reason to be, rumors spread fast in Gondor of what had happened to the dwarves and the almighty Smuag, the terror of their lifetime. Everyone was afraid of what the dragon would do next. Most thought that the dwarves would bring it with them somehow, as if they carried bad luck. So Thorin was well aware of how much the people of Gondor didn’t want him there. He wasn’t wanted anywhere. But the skills he possessed as a smith kept his employer from kicking him to the curb like others had done before.

“Another fine piece of weaponry Thorin. The next order is a pair of long swords,” grunted Izec the chief blacksmith of the establishment that Thorin worked for. Sweat ran down Thorin’s forehead as he leaned back to stretch out from the hammering position he had been in. His back ached, he had been finishing up the fine details of his last assignment, the entirety had taken three days, the last five hours he had just completed. He was tired and in need of a break. But Thorin liked pushing himself past that point nowadays. He didn’t really care much about his body at all, he was angry all the time, and it felt good to hammer down something that would bend to his will. If only other things in his life went that way…

“Take a lunch and be back before long, ya hear?”

Thorin only gave a nod as he wiped the sweat from his hands onto his pants as he took his leave from the shop. It was midday in Gondor and people were everywhere. The weather was hot and stuffy, no summer time breeze in the air, Thorin guessed it was just his luck. He had eaten at a couple of stands in the past, the food men served were at least better than elves but it was nothing like home. Weaving through the crowds, he ignored the glances he got, it wasn’t exactly rare to see a dwarf in Gondor but this was definitely the birthplace of men.

He hadn’t been to this particular meal stand before, he was complacent enough to try it since the others hadn’t left a lasting impression for him to seek them out. He just wanted a good, quick meal to regain his strength and head back to work.

“What’ll it be?” Thorin had to take a slight step back to take in the whole menu. “Roast will do.” His response was a curt reply, quick and ready to move on. “7 shillings,” you matched his reply, not really wanting to drag out the conversation either. This was only business after all. Out came a pouch from one of his pockets as he gathered the correct amount. You hadn’t exactly been looking directly into his eyes, just glancing over everything else about him.

He was dirty, a hard working dwarf. Long dark hair, that was thick but not matted. He took care of himself or at least his hair. His cheeks had what looked like dirt or maybe ash from a fire. Dwarves were usually blacksmiths around here so you took an educated guess. “You work with Izec?” you hadn’t intended to ask out loud but it seemed you couldn’t help yourself. There was a reason for asking after all.

Thorin met your gaze, ice cold irises told you one thing. That he wanted his meal and to be left alone. “Yes.” The one word reply, a clear warning to not ask anymore questions. “I’ve placed an order for a piece of metal myself..” it was a low response from you as you had gauged his reaction. He didn’t seem curious or to care about the details of what you had ordered at Izec’s. With that you gave him his meal and he gave you the shillings.

“Thanks.” He was gone, not stopping at any of the nearby tables set up to sit and eat. You watched as he parted ways, and wondered if he would come to your stand another day. Such cold eyes, you had the feeling he wouldn’t. Lunch hour was busy, and more customers took up your thoughts and as soon as the dwarf had came he disappeared from your mind.

A week passed before Thorin decided he had a particular craving. He had thoroughly enjoyed the roast from last time, and had wanted to stop by again. He had lasted a week only because he did not wish to be remembered, he simply wanted the good food and nothing more. Chitchat could wait until after he had reclaimed Erebor. But Thorin found that you simply couldn’t just hand him over the meal without at least one question being asked.

“How’s work?”

“What’s it like being a smith?”

“What do you think of Gondor?”

“You must really like roast, would you like to try our roasted chicken?”

No matter the angry stares or the frustrated sighs, Thorin would respond begrudgingly to each question. He liked the chicken now too, and from the four more times he had stopped by (on different days of course) it was quite apparent that this was his favorite food stand now. Because of the appetizing meals. Not because of your curious brown gaze. Our the sprinkle of freckles that were cast across your face. You had steady hands too, careful in passing and gentle in receiving. The few times your fingers had touched when he had exchanged his money had given him surprising chills. Your touch was quite cold and felt foreign from his hot temperatures.

It was getting a little easier to talk with one another. But Thorin didn’t make it to where it was ever a fluent conversation. He was only here for one thing after all. “Do you eat at Izec’s?” You decided to use up your one question on that this time. If you had counted right this would be your fifteen encounter and you still hadn’t caught his name, they just had so many other interesting things to know first, but you were getting pretty curious about that particular piece of info.

“Yes.” Thorin nodded, and the exchanged of meal for money transpired. You decided you weren’t satisfied, “Well isn’t it a bit stuffy to eat in there?” Thorin had taken one step away, “Sometimes” he agreed, not very happy that this was turning into more than the one usual question. “Well you could eat by the stand.. I give out complementary bread to my customers who do.” This was a lie, but maybe some enticing fresh bread would make him stay a little longer. “Maybe next time…” He wasn’t buying it, or maybe he wasn’t that hungry, or maybe he didn’t want to answer anymore questions. Whatever the reason, he was gone before you could talk him into it further.

Your sigh was obvious as it was loud.

“Maybe he’s just not into ya”

Your eyes immediately rolled, “Can it Howser.” The neighboring stand was a flower seller. He sold beautiful orchids when in season. But he was terribly nosy. “Well I’m just sayin, he’s only ever given you one-worded responses. Can’t get much dryer than that!” He laughed to himself at your misery. It was true you were getting nowhere in the sense of progress. Progress in what exactly? You weren’t entirely sure, maybe you could admit you had a crush on the recluse dwarf. “Any ideas then? I’ve tried to point out at least my interest,” you glumly stated, not wanting this to turn into some laughing stock at your failures.

“How about giving up?” Howser laughed, and the laughingstock it was. You glared at him as he tried to choke back his giggling. “Thanks.” You answered sarcastically and stopped paying attention to him, to which he tried to offer real advice but was left to be ignored.

Maybe giving up would become an option if the dwarf never came back. But he did come back, and it no longer took a week in between his visits. It was more frequent which had him occupying your thoughts more than the usual. The only thing that didn’t change was how uninterested he seemed in you. Which had Howser teasing you as soon as the dwarf departed. The game of chase felt like forever until that one fateful day.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, the sun taking its course to the west. It was unusual for the dwarf to come so late and even more unusual for him to be carrying a package. “What’s th-“ Your words were cut off with the thud of the item being placed on your counter. “Your order.” Thorin replied, already knowing the answer to the unfinished question. Izec was well acquainted with most in Gondor, which made him a good businessman. But once Thorin had told him about your stand and how good the food was, it was now tasked to him to deliver the finished product.

“Thank you for bringing them, you didn’t have to,” Thorin didn’t say anything as he had been told to do so it wasn’t like he was doing you a favor. With the silence, you decided to tear the parcel excited to see the results. Two beautifully slender long swords were revealed to you. Your breath was sucked in as you saw the fine lines and detailed swirls,

“Is it to your liking?”

This was the first question, he had ever asked to you. Just that had your heart rate accelerating. You assumed he had not only brought it to you, but had been the one to create such refinery. “It is, absolutely.” You beamed and he nodded, “To what name can I thank for such hard work?” You figured now was as good as anytime to finally ask the burning question. He was a mystery man, a stranger with no name, and you couldn’t continue to go on like such.

“Thorin.” He answered and had thought to himself that you had already known since most in Gondor knew from the rumors. “Thank you Thorin, I will treasure them.” He was never one for smiles, but somehow you knew he was at least proud of his work, and satisfied in knowing that you would be the one the wield them. You were positively optimistic in thinking that things would only get better with the two of you from here as he walked away. You let him go with no questions trailing him. With his back turned he held up his hand in departure, you couldn’t hold back your grin.

“Until next time,”

#the hobbit #jrr tolkien #there and back again #dwarves #dwarf #thorin imagine #thorin x you #thorin fic #thorin oakenshield #erebor #hobbit fanfiction #fan fic #imagine

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dreamsmp-au-ideas · 3 years

Text

Guess it’s good brother dream brain rot time now that we’ve pretty much canonized phoenix Tommy in it. I must now do my proper due diligence. Adding in my two cents and furthering the spread of my brand, phoenix Tommy.

When Tommy is a little tiny thing Phil does everything in his power to try and keep it quiet that Tommy isn’t a regular avian hybrid, but a phoenix. Things like phoenixes, dragons, or other mythical avians are extremely rare mutations that happen seemingly without any reason but will often reoccur within the same bloodline more often than not.

Phil is something mythical. Maybe a dragon, maybe a griffin, maybe even something a little less well known like the zhenniao, yatagarasu, or alicanto. Either way he’s something mythical, it runs in his blood. It ends up running in Tommy’s too. Phil is one of the few mythological avians who doesn’t hide his features because people are usually far too fearful of both him an Technoblade to do anything. Unfortunately, what people weren’t scared of was the idea of trying to kidnap a child.

There were attempts to steal away Wilbur when he was little. Before he started presenting and turned out to be just your regular avian. There were fewer attempts when it came to Tommy. There was unfortunately one attempt that ended up being successful, he was stolen from the cradle and subsequently lost in a skirmish when Techno and Phil caught up to the man who took Tommy.

Dream found baby Tommy floating along in the river, figured the kid was probably abandoned since he’d heard of orphaned children being floated down rivers and never seen again, and subsequently took Tommy in.

Everything was fine and okay for a couple years and Tommy was quickly accepted into the family. Unfortunately when Tommy turned five his traits started to come in and he nearly burned down the house. The family didn’t want to abandon Tommy but realizing he was a mythical avian was a problem to say the least. So Dream, having recently become an active admin, gathered up his things and left with Tommy. He didn’t blame his family for their worries but he wasn’t going to abandon his little brother either. Not when he’d found Tommy. Not when he’d been the one to practically raise Tommy.

Dream and Tommy were very distrustful of strangers still for obvious reasons and Tommy was pretty much stuck wearing the mask in order to protect himself, but Dream did what he could. Dream didn’t originally wear a mask actually, he decided they should match as a way to make Tommy feel bad for always having to wear the mask when he didn’t want to. He found private places that were safe where Tommy could practice flying and stretch his wings since Dream was super concerned early on about them atrophying and never being able to properly carry Tommy. Sure, it was too dangerous for Tommy to actively go flying often, but Dream didn’t want to accidentally ruin Tommy’s chances of ever being able to fly. The most important facet of their relationship is that he wanted to protect Tommy but never cage him.

When Dream first took control of the Dream SMP it was originally so he could make it a safe space for himself and Tommy, only allowing his few friends who knew about Tommy and what he was to join, like Sapnap and George who have a super good relationship with both Dream and Tommy in this au. Dream is still super jumpy and protective of Tommy and Tommy trusts people a lot less, but Tommy also acts as something of an ambassador in Dream’s interpersonal relationships, keeping Dream from becoming too jumpy and letting them decay. Similarly Dream taught Tommy to be a lot more cautious of strangers and this Tommy is a heck of a lot stronger having grown up with a pvp legend like Dream.

When other people started joining it was still a controlled enough environment that while cautious, Dream let Tommy “play” for lack of a better word. Three canon lives is a rule everywhere that everyone has to abide by, regardless of what admin you’re living under. The admin doesn’t get to decide what’s canon either, it’s something seemingly up to chance. Or maybe the gods. No one knows what makes being pushed off a cliff by your mortal enemy so different from falling off one by your own stupidity, but some people theorize it’s the intention of the action.

Obviously this isn’t a rule that applies to Tommy. They both know it, him and Dream. And here’s the thing. Some legends say that there are no draw backs to a phoenix dying. Others say that too many deaths too quickly will slowly harm the phoenix. Both of these are false. A phoenix needs deaths. Canon deaths. The same way that kids needs to be tossed in the air and spun around to help develop their brains as really little kids, a phoenix needs to die repeatedly for their brains and bodies to properly mature fully and in a healthy manner. It’s an actual necessity for them to die, in fact, too few canon deaths run the risk of a phoenix getting sick and dying permanently.

So when new people join the Dream SMP, Dream doesn’t hesitate letting Tommy side against him. It’s an unspoken rule between them. Good brother Dream goes pretty similar to canon up until Pogtopia actually. Dream doesn’t hesitate to take those two canon lives and Tommy intentionally misses during their duel. He ends up with way more canon deaths than just two, and he keeps secret what they are from the rest of the SMP, saying the two times Dream killed him were the canon two. Each time he dies his magic gets a little stronger, his feathers taking on an even glossier coat. He still gets pissed at Eret after the betrayal because everyone else doesn’t have unlimited canon lives, but Dream shushes and reassures him that if anyone does die permanently then he’ll help Tommy bring them back.

Phoenixes are creatures tied to the frayed and broken bridge that crosses life and death. Just like they can’t die and have dominance over flames, another power of the phoenixes is that they’re uniquely skilled when it comes to necromancy. Real necromancy. Not the human equivalent that brings back soulless husks with a tendency for destruction and malevolence. A phoenix is the only creature that can bring a soul back from the dead in tact. Tommy knows this by merit of instinct, and did it only once before for the sake of Dream. Regular people know this by merit of books like the one Schlatt tries to trade Dream.

So Dream and Tommy mostly put on an act while the war is happening but then act all buddy buddy and like actual brothers off the battle fields which confuses everyone (besides the already aware George and Sapnap) and mildly upsets Wilbur, but everyone just kinda gets used to it.

Until Pogtopia. Because we need some kind of conflict I’m giving Schlatt a very special role. Schlatt was a hybrid who got captured by poachers as a child and sold into the hybrid slave trade. He was one of the lucky few who turned the tables and managed to earn his freedom, ultimately turning towards being a poacher himself. Schlatt comes to L'manberg and becomes president with the intention of selling every hybrid in the country, in the Dream SMP as a whole, to his traders. The reason he chose the Dream SMP specifically? Well, wouldn’t you know it, he’s heard rumors that apparently there’s a phoenix hiding around somewhere. Not to mention the Dream SMP is absolutely loaded with hybrids because of Dream’s rather public policy about hybrid tolerance (he isn’t a hybrid, but he knows the affect being a hybrid has had on Sapnap and he still fears for Tommy so he tries to make somewhere that maybe one day Tommy can be open about what he is.)

Schlatt can’t immediately tell it’s Tommy who’s the phoenix because Tommy himself is an even rarer variation of phoenix called a soul flame phoenix, which is why his eyes and wings are a soul fire blue. Schlatt came in expecting crimson and our boy is out here with wings that look like the place where the sky meets the sea. Schlatt even dismisses Tommy initially and starts investigating some of the people who look human or avians with orange and yellow feathers. This is also why Phil can’t immediately recognize Tommy when he joins the SMP. While he can hide them with magic, Tommy usually has his wings on display since the Dream SMP is designed to be a safe space for hybrids. This Dream doesn’t have a ban on flying (he thought about it, maybe setting aside specific areas where winged hybrids could exercise, but it was quickly scrapped via Tommy repeatedly throwing himself off cliffs and then remembering he wasn’t supposed to be flying, immediately letting himself drop and die. Some of those ‘accidents’ were even canon and Dream just gave up on the rule.)

For this AU, I imagine that Dream would be a bit more in tune with people and empathetic so he’d probably call in Techno and Phil for help when he sees Wilbur starting to take a dive. Both out of worry for his own younger brother who’s sticking by Wilbur and consideration for the fact Wilbur himself took something of an older brother role. Sure he was a little jealous, but he understand well enough that everyone who meets Tommy either falls into one of two categories. They hate the kid and want him dead or they want to be his older sibling who’d burn down the world if he asked them to. George and Sapnap can both attest to the fact there are only two types of people in this world when it comes to Tommy and people usually start as the first before slowly becoming the second.

So Techno and Phil show up early which is really good because Schlatt finally reveals his true intentions and neither Techno nor Phil are very chill with them. I dunno how the reveal will go between them and Tommy yet. I don’t even know for Good Brother Dream if we’re having Techno be a family friend or older brother so hard to say.

Anyway, I think that’d probably be where the main plot kinda starts to kick off so I’ll stop there for now. If I go for too much longer I’ll just end up wanting to write it…

#dream smp #dream smp au #good brother dream au #philza #ph1lza #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #dream #dreamwastaken #sapnap #georgenotfound #jschlatt #technoblade #submission #snapdragon & firefly

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what-the--curtains · 3 years

Text

There Are No Wolves in the Desert

Part 2 - The Tell Tale Knife

(Oberyn Martell x f!reader)

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Summary: After the death of his paramour Oberyn seeks out a local mercenary known as the Shadow Hunter, but who he finds is more valuable than he could have imagined.

Authors notes: Thank you for all the comments, likes and reblogs! I’ve loved Robb and Oberyn since I read the books like 10 years ago now (yes my parent gave me that book when I was like 13 😂) I’m so happy to finally write down whats been in my head for years! Thank you for letting me share it with you💕💕 as per usual let me know if youd like a tag (or untag)!

Tw: Alcohol, violence, threats of sexual assault, swearing, nudity (implied), mentions of sex.

Word count: 4.5 k

Tagged: @evyiione @ayamenimthiriel @xsadderdazeforeverx @agingerindenial (if i missed anyone please let me know im the worst for tagging!!)

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3 years later

The days passed slowly while you remained tucked away, out of sight from those seeking to do you harm. A generous payment kept you safe in the attic of a local blacksmith, the promise of more ensuring you wouldn't be sold out. Once the imminent threat of assasination was over you focused on staying alive, finding the dragon queen becoming a distant memory, one that would have to wait until a more opportune moment presented itself. You used the last of your funds to purchase a horse and sought out work where you could. For a while you served as a healer to those returning from the fighting pits and other skirmishes occurring between nearby cities, until a Lannister soldier showed up searching for you. After that you moved further out of town finding work at a tavern miles from the city walls catering to a variety of characters travelling from near and far.

The owners were good folk, a retired sculptor, her wife and two young children. You’d stopped in for a drink with plans on heading further south, but an incident changed your course. A man came in threatening the owners demanding a payout when you’d stepped in, the man thought it would be easy, and it was at least for you. You helped them bury the body and they’d asked you to stay and so you did; tending to bar, training the horses and offering protection when needed. In return they offered you a bed, hot meals and a small salary despite your insistence that room and board was more than enough. It was a quiet life, a simple life, but one you enjoyed greatly. The noise of war and murder a ditant cry. Only in your sleep were you reminded of the cruelty of the world. The restful days quickly turned to weeks and it wasn't long until a year had passed, as had the memories of who you were.

The rumour of your murder had spread slowly from king landing, uttered from between the poisonous lips of Cersei Lannister, a lie you prayed one day would come back to haunt her. The day the news reached the ears of your employers you knew it was time to leave, and you rode back through the golden gates of the city. You’d resold the horse to a palace guard whose wife worked with the royal stables, training them, breeding them, caring for them, a good place for a faithful friend to live out its days. Noticing the weapons on your back the guard offered you a fee to find and kill a man who had snuck into the palace and murdered three of his wife's favourite horses after their daughter had refused his hand in marriage. He was dead within the hour, and from there the word of your skill in both tracking and murder got around amougst the nobility, and you fell haphhazourdly into mercenary work. If there was one skill you could rely on, it was your ability to unabashedly kill and you quickly became one of Dornes finest assassins. You fell into the work, the ease at which you became accustomed to it frightened you at first, but you had been hardened by loss, and it wasn't as if you hadn’t killed before.

Any semblance of emotional morality long forgotten, unable, or not wanting to have it all come seeping back, fearful of what may surface as a result. Most of your money went to keeping you fed, well rested and off any enemy radars. After the first month, money became more lucrative and you had splashed out on new armoury and weapons, nothing flashy like some of the more ornate dornish assassins who made a show of their profession. They were harmless, though admittedly annoying and from what you heard, not nearly as impressive as they boasted. Your armour was simple, lightweight leather over loose, breathable cloth, and a dark cloak, Its hood heavy and kept drawn well up over your eyes obscuring your face from prying eyes at all times. A shadow on the wall. Your weapons were similar to your clothes, your short swords and longbow were well crafted and durable, no decoration but for a few carved vines wrapped around their ends. Your only remaining identifiers were your eyes, and the dagger belonging to your late husband which stayed with you at all times, always within reach. Any remaining money was hidden away about the city, a retirement fund if you will, assuming you lived that long.

There were bonuses beside finances in your line of work, your ability to disappear into a crowd kept you in touch with the rumour mill. Words and secrets would fall from drunken mouths carelessly. Most of it stank worse than the horse's field after rain, but there were some that rang true, and a few that even brought a rare smile to your face. A young woman had spoken loudly about Tywin Lannister's death and how he’d supposedly died on the privy, causing you to snort into your soup, a fitting end for a coward of a man.

A month later you heard that the prince of Dorne had gone to King's Landing to fight for Tyrion, where he supposedly defeated a man standing well over 12 feet tall. A tall tale of a tall man you think, knowing how royal always sought to increase the truth of their abilities. You had also heard the unfortunate news of Ellaria Sands poisoning , the venom not reaching her veins until the ship had sailed out, no remedy to be found on the vaste seascape. It was a shame, she and the Sand Snakes were skilled adversaries here and they had since scattered in search of answers and allies around the seven kingdoms, to help avenge their mother. The prince apparently had to be restrained to stop him from turning the ship around, that was a story you found more believable. From what you’d heard the prince may have many lovers but he would go to war for any of them. You’d never seen his face, except for on the back of coins or from a distance. If you had you may have noticed him enter into the tavern where you sat awaiting your payment from your most recent client.

Your eyes stay on the table, your hood pulled up well over your forehead giving you a frightening silhouette beneath the candlelight that was beginning to glow more prominently as the sun set. The young man who commissioned you entered, he stank of wine and privilege, but he was rich and the payment promised was well worth putting up with his unsavoury personality. His true odor protrudes through the thin veil of perfume attempting to mask his stench, alerting you to his presence well before he’d sat down. Your time alone had heightened your tracking skills, a side effect of living under the constant threat of being hunted. The wiry man sits down next to you, his thin fingers snapping under your eyes in an attempt to get your attention, you inhale deeply, drawing yourself back to your displeasing reality and forced social interactions.

“Where's the money?” you ask, knife whittling a notch out of the table's leg with Robbs dagger.

“Where the head?” he retorts, and you pull out a small sack, shoving it into his hand watching as he pulls at the drawstring, opening the velvet bag. He raises his eyebrows and pulls out the index finger you'd removed from the corpse.

“Head was…. indisposed. I hope this satisfies,” you murmur, this job had been messier than you intended. You typically weren't so reckless especially with a noble.

“ Very much so, ” he says taking it and turning it in his hands

“The money then,” you restate, tone flat.

“Well there's one more... proposition I had.” He states, hand resting down on your thigh.

“I'll take the money for this job then you can hand me the next target,” you respond, sighing heavily, used to people getting handsy with you.

“You can make extra on this job if you play your cards right,” he whispers, hand running up your thigh. The other reaches up to pull back on your hood within seconds your dagger had impaled his hand, pining it to the table. His wail of anguish causes the heads in the tavern to turn briefly towards the scene before returning to their lively chatter.

“You stupid bitch,” he spits making a grab for the knife but you reach forward pushing it further into the table leaning in towards him.

“The money, or I cut off your head and mount it on the wall of this tavern,” you say, louder than intended.

Oberyn watches from the bar in amusement , the last time he’d seen fire like that had come from Ellaria. He needed someone to help get his revenge, someone willing to murder a man in front of witnesses, his birds had been right, this mercenary was the one for the job.

You rip the knife from the man's hand as he throws you the coinpurse you were owed you reach for it as he stands.

“Bitch,” he spits, liquid hitting the side of your face as he pulls down your hood “you better watch you back mercenary, I'll be taking you from behind in no time.” He snarls, as you hurry to pull your cover back up.

“Clever,” you retort, wiping your face, shaking out the purse and counting your pay out. Empty threats. Or threats you didn’t care about, you could kill scum like that in your sleep, and you had. You mutter another curse under your breath at being exposed, the latest delay in dye shipments had allowed the roots of your white hair to protrude through, lucky everyone inside was too drunk to notice. The money from the job was enough to keep a roof over your head for the foreseeable future, maybe even enough for a bath, it was getting to be that time. You go to stand, you had an ‘appointment’ in town, one with a handsome payout. Before you can stand you see a pair of hands adorned in jewellery slip into your view a scent of sweet fruit and honey indicating a cleanliness and a high status, a very high status, your appointment could wait.

Obery was observant, his eyes had been glued to you even while conversing with the beautiful patrons of the bar, not wanting to lose you in the crowd. “The shadow tracker”. That’s what you had been dubbed by those residing in the city according to his sources, clients of yours pleased with your services, services he was in need of. It seems you may bear more than one secret identity, it may have been for the briefest second, but the colour of your hair stood out against the dark fabric you wore. It intrigued him, white hair was uncommon in those of your age, very rare. In fact he only knew of one person still alive with such a trait. The other, one whom he’d sent a wedding gift to years prior, was long dead, or so the Lannister would have him believe, and when has he ever trusted the word of child murderers. He may have come here in seek of a mercenary, but what he found may prove to be even more valuable to his cause.

“Payments 50 for a nobody, rate goes up with each class, royals are above my paygrade, and nobles will cost you at least 6 of those fancy rings on your fingers,” you list, taking note of the martell sigil embellished on one of the larger rings.

“How much would it be to convince a wolf to take down a Lion,” he queries, hunching his head down to try and catch a glimpse of the eyes under the hood. Your heart drops.

“Above the pay grade, couple down at the docks have a death wish, you might try your luck there,” you explain, deepening your voice slightly in an attempt to disguise yourself.

“And what would be your wish, if you could have it?” he queries, leaning back kicking his feet up onto the stool beside you. As he does the yellow of his robes come into your peripheral the suns intricately stitched on, shining against the murk of the tavern's tile floor.

“To be left alone,” you chide, this was someone well acquainted with the royals here, you didn't deal with royalty, more trouble than they're worth.

“What's that old saying? The lone wolf dies, or am I mistaken? ” he returns, chuckling slightly.

“I don’t know who you think I am but I assure you…” you say, eyes finally raising, only then realizing the prince of Dorne sat before you, at least based on his impression on one of the coins in your hand.

“Lady Stark, I was hoping we’d meet face to face,” he remarks, the long forgotten address catching you off guard causing your eyes to shoot back down.

“Lady Stark died, the Lannisters ground up her body and fed it to the king's direwolf before killing it, haven’t you heard?” you say sarcastically, pulling your knife out of the table, unsure if he’d recognized it.

“Propaganda, set to diminish the power of the north,” he says, watching the blade intently as it's pulled from the table.

“I do not know if Lady Stark is alive, but for a price I could find out, granted you tell me what you need her for,” you mutter.

“I did not come here in search of Lady Stark. I came seeking a mercenary, the so-called “shadow tracker” however, this is a most welcome surprise, as for why I need you, or her, the answer is revenge plain and simple.”

“Is that what they call me?” you remark “ So you seek out a mercenary only to find something better, something you can trade?” you pose shaking your head.

“No, I needed an assassin, but found something better. Something more lethal.” He pauses.

“Which is?” you prompt, hoping to end this conversation sooner rather than later.

“One they think is dead. Besides I figured Lady Stark would want the opportunity to take down the Lannisters.”

“I assume she would, though she may think the offer stands too good to be true,” you state, gathering up your payment and making your exit he follows suit, stopping briefly to gently nudge his hand under the chin of an attractive man standing near the door, no doubt planning on returning later.

“The desert is no place for a wolf,” he calls after you, a significant distance between the two of you now.

“I shall let you know if I see such a sight, my prince,” you shout, dramatically curtsying before turning on your heel and walking off. He smiles before re-entering the tavern.

A week later

You stroll through the dark alleys of the city, a few years ago you wouldn’t have dared ventured out so late. The woods were known to you, their dangers and sights predictable, but the city was uncharted territory. While a bear could be trusted to do as bears do, the movements of man were less predictable. Your work kept you attune to the veins of the city and the people that coursed through them. You knew where to go and where to avoid depending on the day. You knew the sounds, able to pick out when something was amiss and tonight something was. The usual scurry of the rats below or the call of the parrots from above were absent, someone had been through here and not long ago. Your hand dips into the folds of your cape and you throw your dagger catching a man in the neck. You lean over and remove it from his jugular, the blood flowing out from the wound. Before you can turn him over, something hits you knocking you forward onto your stomach. You’re lifted from the ground by the nape of your neck. Your hoods pulled down and your head pulled up to see the foul smelling client and two other assassins standing before you.

“Dirron, Brant, always a pleasure” you snarl

“No hard feelings Shadow, you’re taking out all the business” Brant responds.

“How much is he paying you? Not enough I bet he didn't pay me enough. I'll double it if you let me walk.” you plead, but they shake their heads.

“I paid you more than your worth,” he spits, gesturing to the man behind you and he lifts you up slamming you into a nearby wall pressing your face against the rough brick. You can taste the blood beginning to gather in your mouth. He releases you, handing you over to the unpleasant smelling man who brings the dagger you’d dropped into your view, pressing the steel against your cheek as he begins to speak.

“This dagger belonged to Robb Stark.”

“Did it? I stole it from a client months ago,” you say, elbowing him in the stomach causing him to drop the blade. You catch it, and drive it deep into his knee. He falls, and you unsheathe his sword and throw it catching Dirron in the chest. The large brute gets to you before your next move knocking you in the stomach and pinning you back up against the wall.

“Told you I'd have you from behind,” the client says, limping over to you and spitting on the side of your face. As the moisture hits your flesh a spear pierces through his chest , pinning him to a nearby crate as the remaining two men scatter. You push yourself up spinning to see the prince standing in the alley picking up your dagger.

“Of all the souvenirs to keep, this…” he starts, examining the blade before continuing “ is the most telling. Even with your distinct traits, the Young Wolf's knife is well known, especially by those who saw it made. Dornish steel,” he explains tossing it in the air catching it by the blade and handing it back to you by its handle.

“As I just finished explaining to your dear friend there, I stole that,” you lie, taking it from him.

“No you didn’t,” he says, eyes bright even in the dark, a familiar smirk on his lips, clearly bemused by your attempts at lying.

“Yes I did,” you retort, refusing to let up on your façade.

“Shall we debate it over a drink?” he asks, retrieving his spear from the client's body which falls to the ground with an unpleasant thunk.

“A prince slumming it with the poor?” you ask watching as he uses the dead man's silks to wipe his weapon before turning back to you.

“My enjoyment of life precludes class,” he says offering you his arm

“As you speak from your riches,” you point out, watching him run his tongue along his upper lip.

“We are not as antiquated in our ideologies here, class here is less pronounced” he assures you.

“Is it?” you argue, pushing down on his extended arm and he shrugs his shoulder in defeat, pride faltering only for a fragment of a second at the notion of being rejected. The streets are busy tonight, the warm weather bringing the people out en masse to enjoy the city's nightlife. He brings his hand up to usher you into a nearby tavern by the small of your back, but thinks twice and drops it, not wanting to lose it. As you enter he raises his hand and winks at the barkeep before following you towards the back near the window sill.

“What will it cost you?” you inquire as he sits down, watching over his shoulder as the person behind the bar pours out a decanter of wine.

“What?” he asks, the downturn of his mouth and creased forehead painting a picture of confusion.

“To let me leave here, to keep this a secret, the two men who escaped know who I am now. My time here is up.” you confess as the decanter is placed on the table the bartenders hands trailing across his shoulders causing him to smile fondly up at them.

“I do not wish you to be found. It would ruin the plans I have,” he says, slowly turning his attention back to you, offering you wine. You stare at the decanter, then to him before shaking your head causing him to chuckle

“What? Have I said something amusing? “ you question, almost annoyed.

“Untrusting,” he remarks, taking a sip of the liquid before offering it to you once again. You reach over the table grabbing the cup from his hand.

“I am untrusting because in my experience people cannot be trusted,” you explain taking a sip.

“You husband certainly lied about marrying the Frey girl,” he remarks, leaning back into his seat, arms spreading out across the chairs back.

“I’ve never been married,” you state, wanting nothing more than to punch the smug look off his face.”

“You're good,” he says, eyes giving you the once over.

“At what?”

“Lying, well perhaps not good per say but committed, i'll give you that, you fight in a similar manner.” he presses, hoping to get a rise out of you.

“So, you think I can’t fight,” you say, shaking your head with a laugh

“Your words,” he states.

“I did not come here to be insulted by the likes of you, prince or not,” you scold, sitting up.

“I didn't mean to offend,” he remarks, eyes watching your movements, evidently he’d touched a nerve.

“Didn’t you?” you query, tilting your head.

“No, truly it was not my intention, I merely believe upon improvement,” he explains.

“Hard to improve without practice, hard to practice on your own,” you state, moving to leave, the prince drawing too much attention than you wanted on you. You down the rest of your wine and utter a ‘thank you for the drink’ before bidding him a farewell and exiting the bar. You don't make it far, seemingly unable to shake him.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

“That’s privileged information,” you say, turning to face him walking backwards along the cobbled streets. His eyes fall to you before looking up to the heavens, the stars were bright tonight illuminating his features. The rumours of him held true in one area undoubtedly, he was handsome.

“Come back to the palace with me.” He says, eyes still gazing up at the sky.

“I have no intention of divulging in your pleasure my prince, my heart belongs to another, I swore I wouldn’t stray from him even in death,” you reply, turning back to walk forward spitting blood out onto the street, sure one of your teeth must have been knocked out in the earlier fight.

“While I disagree with more than one of those statements I did not mean to imply, though I would be remiss to say it wouldn’t be of great honour. I heard the Young Wolf betrayed an entire kingdom for you.” he says eyes once again on you, trying to catch a glimpse of your features obscured by the hood.

“Are you suggesting I got my husband killed?” you muse, hearing him tut in disagreement

“You’re dirty, you’re tired, you’re injured and at risk of murder, the palace offers you a safe place to recuperate.”

“And what do you expect in return?” you ask.

“I simply wish to offer you a proposition once you are rested, if you decline, you are free to leave. I will ensure you are transported to a safe location where no one knows you.”

Perhaps it was the itching of your skin, or the way the dye was clinging your out of control hair or maybe it was being allowed to be who you once were, but you agree.

“This is Shana she will help you, unless you prefer a male companion, though I would gladly offer my services” he says, gesturing to an older woman of great beauty.

“I can bath myself, thank you though,” you say, turning and nodding to the woman who bows her head and exits the bathhouse.

“Whatever you wish, I'll have her bring you clothes while we clean yours... if we can clean yours” he muses, the remark cracking a smile in your icy demeanour. He leaves and you undress placing your clothes outside the door as requested. Your bare feet feel refreshed against the cool orange tiles of the bath house, the area evidently meant for the use of many people. Multicoloured tulip petals float atop the water filling your nostril with an aroma unlike one you’d ever known. The steam from the water rises in the cool air of the night and you dip your toe in water proceeding to the steps.

You stride into the water allowing your lower half to adjust to the heat before fully sinking in to cover your shoulder. Immediately the dye in your hair begins to leak into the water blending together with the built up mud and blood that has been stuck to you since your last clean. You scrub your skin until the scars scattered across your body are once again visible in the moonlight. Your hand pauses over the wound above your shoulder, memories of Robb flooding back in, as you assume your true identity for the first time in years.

You dunk your head under the water, scrubbing to remove grime from your face and to work out the last of the dye until it's all gone, your hair returned to its original state. You stay in the water for a while enjoying the heat, but sitting in your own filth is no longer a luxury and you stand up and dry yourself off. Pulling on a robe hung up for you as if they knew you’d be there that night. The cool air hits you as you exit, a welcome relief compared to the heavy heat carried around while wearing your armour. One of the palace guards leads you to your bed chamber, the bed is large and the room even larger. Tiles from floor to ceiling apart from the windows which opened up to the balcony allowing the breeze in at night. You step out onto it, hand trailing through the flowers growing along the bannisters. You thank the guard and he closes the large wooden doors leaving you to change into an orange gown true to the style in Dorne. The thin material leaves little to the imagination, but it would prove good for sleeping though not much else. You turn your head to the room's table where clothes better suited for your line of work sit. Your weapons had been cleaned and lined up across the corner of the room, your dagger shined and stabbed into the wood, holding a note in place.

“Dramatic,” you chuckle, pulling out the knife retrieving the note and opening it ‘winter is coming’ you recognize the handwriting immediately, it had been years but you'd never forgotten the letter you'd received the day at the docks. Perhaps the prince could be trusted after all. You hesitate before folding the note up and placing it back down on the table, walking over to the large bed and falling asleep with the knife tucked securely under your pillow, just in case.

#oberyn martell x you #prince oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn #oberyn x you #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x y/n #game of thrones fanfiction #There Are No Wolves in the Desert #part 2 #pedro pascal characters

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archonanqi · 3 years

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fragile as dust / 7 - glaze lily

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ch 7 | glaze lily

The next few days passed uneventfully.

You made it a point to meticulously study Zhongli’s every movement, every action, each waking second he was in your sight. Each morning at five, before the sun broke over the mountain peaks, Zhongli would leave the house for about two hours, coming back with breakfast for you both.

As for work — you weren’t sure what his work hours were, but they certainly didn’t seem regular. Occasionally, he would disappear for a few hours on end, and sometimes you swore you heard the floorboards creak late in the night. But other days, he would remain at home all day, drinking his tea and reading various books in the living room you tried to avoid.

A few times, he had offered to bring you into the city to ease your boredom, but you had feigned frailty (though you certainly didn’t feel strong, either) and remained in your room. He seemed content to let you adjust to your new life at your own pace, just as he had promised two nights ago; rarely initiating any interaction with you except to greet you, and to ask about your well-being.

This was, at first, a blessing. You slept in the day, woke at midnight and sat under your covers for hours, examining your Vision in the glow of the oil light. Chasing that feeling that you had felt in your prison that night: the first and last time you had successfully used it. But try as you might, you couldn’t once again find that calm rush that had rushed through your veins and made you feel solid, stable, strong. In fact, with your feet planted on the smooth wooden floor instead of earthy soil, you had never felt further from the element of Geo.

Eventually, your repeated failures began to rouse other thoughts. Were you really so disappointed that every time you threw out your hands, no rocks, no pebbles, not even a speck of dust gathered to bend at your will? Surely this is what you expected — or had you become so blinded by naivety that you’d begun to believe that your possession of a Vision was anything more than a fluke?

Idiot, you thought to yourself, snapping the drawer shut over your Vision in frustration. Your determination had slowly been trickling down the drain, ambitions seeming further and further away with each day you failed to master your Vision. Perhaps a break would do you some good after all.

You wondered idly if Zhongli had already departed for his morning walk. The sky was still immensely dark outside, but without a clock in your room, you could not tell the time. Finally, you gathered yourself and opened the door, unsure whether or not you were hoping for Zhongli to be on the other side.

And so he was, lounging on the sofa in a manner that somehow exuded both tranquility and power. He was holding something large and curved in his hand, which he looked up from at the creak of the door. “Good morning,” he said, and really, it wasn’t fair how his voice still surprised you with its timber. “How are you feeling today?”

“Yes,” you answered without a thought, and felt your cheeks warming. “I mean, I am well, Mr. Zhongli.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He beckoned for you to come closer, and you debated making an excuse and slipping back into bed— except you found your legs moving on their own, carrying you into the living room.

One conversation couldn’t hurt, you thought. Just to understand him a little better.

As you got closer, you got a better glimpse of the strange thing in his hand. It was milky white, tapering off into a dangerously sharp point. Under the faint light, it glinted wickedly. A bone? A weapon?

“What is that, Mr. Zhongli?” you asked in awe and curiosity.

“Ah,” he glanced down at it, as though suddenly remembering he was still holding it. “I found this while cleaning out some old items of mine, and I’m trying to find a place for it. It’s a dragon’s tooth. Rumor has it that it may be from Rex Lapis, himself.”

You inhaled. It was about the size of your hand. How massive Rex Lapis had to surely be, you wondered, trying to imagine a being large enough to fit rows of these into his jaws.

You recalled climbing the hedges of Yujing Terrace in your youth to get a good look at your city’s Archon — it had been too far away to see much, but the awe you had felt at seeing the writhing beast, his scales glimmering iridescent gold in the sun, would stay with you forever.

“How did you get this?” You whispered.

“An old friend,” he smiled that same small, sad smile that you had begun to hate to see. “She thought that it would be funny to give this to me as a gift, considering that I— that I was a devout follower of Rex Lapis then.”

You failed to see how that was funny — it seemed incredibly sweet — but other thoughts came through your mouth before you could stop them. “The same friend who gave you the pure Cor Lapis?”

Yes, the same one who is almost certainly dead and whom you couldn’t seem to stop bringing up to his face?

“The very same,” Zhongli nodded gently. “I would prefer not to display this in the open, yet it would be a shame to hide such a treasure away.” His voice had taken on a whole new dimension, soft and solemn and quiet. You couldn’t bear it, not when nothing else seemed to be able to shake this man.

“If Mr. Zhongli is looking for a place for it,” you had begun to speak before you even realized what you were saying, “there’s an empty spot on the nightstand by my bed. It wouldn’t be hidden away then.” He glanced at you, and you backtracked quickly. “Of course, such a treasure would fair much better by Mr. Zhongli’s side, not in the room of a lowly—“

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Zhongli said, extending the hand holding the tooth towards you. You took it gingerly, its smooth coolness on your fingers electrifying. Zhongli had said it was just a rumor, but you knew without a doubt that you were holding a piece of Rex Lapis. It was much, much heavier than you had expected, you thought, running a finger over its glossy surface and noting each ridge and scratch. How in the world did Rex Lapis even move, let alone fight in the Archon War — let alone win — with so much weight holding him down?

“Well then,” Zhongli said, “I must be leaving for my morning walk. Are you sure you’ll be alright at home, alone?”

The ‘yes, Mr. Zhongli’ was resting on the tip of your tongue, but something else emerged from your lips instead. “Where do you go on your morning walks, Mr. Zhongli?”

Just to understand him a little better, you assured yourself.

He raised a brow at the question — this was the first time you had initiated conversation, after all. “I go to Yujing Terrace. Do you know where that is?”

You nodded, and couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose a little at the name of the most embellished areas of Liyue. Where the Qixing worked, where the most affluent and powerful members of Liyue society gathered. You were about to excuse yourself and return to your room, when Zhongli inclined his head just a little to regard you silently. “Would you like to join me on my walk, this morning?”

You didn’t think that it was a word you would ever use to describe Zhongli, but he sounded small. Lonely, even. You shook that thought out of your head (a nobleman like him surely had no lack of acquaintances and bed-warmers), yet still, you found yourself saying: “Yes,” without a second thought.

Just to understand him a little better.

—-

The first of Liyue’s laws was a mandate from Rex Lapis himself:

“Nothing can be accomplished without rules or standards. No matter if it is mortals or adepti, everyone has their place.”

You were very familiar with your place. You had been made familiar, ever since the first time you’d almost wandered into Yujing Terrace chasing a Geo crystalfly. You would never forget how the Millelith looked at you as they waved their spears in your face, close enough to touch. Would never forget the words they said to you, and even though you could not yet fully understand what they all meant, the way they said it had made you cry.

And so, it was with no small satisfaction that you marched closely behind Zhongli as he strode through the gates as though he owned the place. The Millelith soldiers at the gate saluted Zhongli as he passed, no doubt recognizing him as a member of high society. You kept your head down and tried to keep up with Zhongli and those long, long legs.

You walked with Zhongli past the gates, stopping briefly at the koi ponds under the foot of Mt. Tianheng. A glaze lily was blooming on one of the mossy rocks, its soft, gentle blue almost glowing under the still-dark sky. You knew what the glaze lily was (of course you did, they sold for more than any other herb or flower, and they were easy to steal if you climbed into Yujing from the mountain side), but you turned to Zhongli with faux curiosity. “Mr. Zhongli, can you tell me more about this flower?”

Not to hear his voice, you told yourself, but to understand him better.

While Zhongli was ordinarily happy to oblige in explanations of any sort, today, he hesitated.

“This is a glaze lily,” he said, slowly, almost mesmerized. “It’s rather dear to me. One of my good friends loved them. Almost always wore one in her hair.”

You knew without a doubt that it was the same friend, the one you couldn’t seem to stop bringing up. You were about to change the subject when Zhongli seemed to shake himself out of that haze.

“My apologies, it seems that our talk this morning has brought back some memories,” Zhongli reached for the lily, brushing its petals gingerly with a gloved hand. “These flowers only bloom during the night, and wilt away as soon as dawn breaks, only to begin the cycle tirelessly again at dusk. A rather fitting metaphor for the people of Liyue, isn’t it?”

You gently touched the necklace that you hadn’t taken off since Zhongli bought it for you. His harsh correction of the shopkeeper’s mistake suddenly made a little more sense. If the flower was so special to you, why would he defile it by buying you a necklace in its image? Surely you were beneath such a momentous symbol.

“Today, the glaze lily is very rarely found in the wild. Only the careful, hardworking botanists of Qingce Village and Liyue Harbor have been able to keep these strains of flowers alive.” Zhongli continued, “but did you know that during the Archon War, glaze lilies were plentiful all across the mountain ranges of Liyue? Especially in Dihua Marsh — you could hardly take a step without running into a patch of lilies.”

You shook your head. “Really?” You wondered, ashamed that your first thought was of how many flowers you’d have been able to sell then — enough for a warm meal every day, perhaps.

“Indeed. Can you imagine, Hansi, rolling fields of these blossoms, as far as the eye can see, each swaying to the wind and glistening under the moon’s full glow?”

Suddenly, you didn’t feel wistful anymore. You couldn’t understand it, but you felt a little like crying.

“It must have been beautiful,” you said. “What happened?”

Zhongli paused like he was choosing his next words carefully. “Geological disasters, although unnatural in nature.” He sighed deeply. “Surviving records of this matter are few and far between. But many scholars agree that during the Archon War, Morax fought and killed a God by what is known today as Guili Plains. The resulting shockwave destroyed... not only the mortal civilization there, but vast areas of glaze lilies. The ecosystem never recovered.”

As selfish as it was, you felt a pang of relief that, despite everything, you hadn’t been alive during the Archon War. It was terrifying, to begin to imagine the strife and chaos of Gods tearing each other apart. You’d loved to read about their battles, but it filled you with a strange sadness (though mostly fear) each time. “What kind of a god could manage to do so much damage, even when faced with the might of Rex Lapis?”

Zhongli’s face stayed composed and unreadable, but the air around you seemed to chill tangibly. Was it your imagination, or did the stone bridge you were standing on just shake?

Finally, he spoke. “It was not their power that destroyed Guili, but their death. The aftermath of a God’s death, no matter how... small the God, can be devastating to mortals.”

He stopped abruptly. You felt like you had to change the subject, felt like your life depended on it. “Wow,” you joked weakly, “Then I hope that Rex Lapis never even catches a cold.”

Zhongli��s eyes widened, and you thought that in them you saw realization.

“Let’s not dwell too long on such inauspicious matters,” he shook his head. “I do apologize for bringing up such a morbid topic. Look, a golden Koi. The merchants of Liyue widely regard such a sighting as an omen of fortune…”

Behind you, the morning sun spilled over the horizon, staining the harbor pink and gold. Without either of you noticing, the glaze lily’s petals slowly closed into themselves.

—-

On the way home, you almost killed an elderly man.

You were walking past the statue of Rex Lapis once again, the one that you had stopped at on your first night with Zhongli. In the morning sun, the statue had lost its hard shadows and taken on a softer light. You couldn’t help but stare— and that was precisely how you walked right into the little old man praying in front of it.

Faster than you thought humanly possible, Zhongli caught your shoulder, and with the other hand, the man’s. The basket that the man was holding clattered to the ground, some sunsettia and a bottle of wine rolling out of it — thankfully unbroken.

When you were both standing firmly on your feet again, you bowed deeply, fear and shame burning on your cheeks. “By the Archons, I’m so sorry,” you whispered over and over as you picked up the fruit he had dropped. “I’m so sorry.”

To your immense relief, the old man laughed heartily. “It’s quite alright. You young folk, always with your head in the clouds!” He exclaimed as he took the basket back from your trembling hands, dusting himself off. “And you, young man, what reflexes you have. It’s a good thing she has you to keep her on her feet!”

“I’m glad you’re unhurt,” Zhongli smiled as he offered the bottle of wine back to the man. “Osmanthus wine, and aged well, too. You have good taste, sir.”

“Oh, this isn’t for me,” he said, “I was leaving it at the statue. Call me a superstitious old man, but legend has it that this is Rex Lapis’ favorite wine.” He shook his head. “I was going to offer it to him at the Rite of Descension, but— it’s such a pity, what happened.”

You perked up at that. The Rite of Descension? What had happened at this year’s Rite? You were once again reminded of your climbing endeavors to see Rex Lapis speak with the common folk — to catch a glimpse of divinity.

“Certainly,” Zhongli agreed, “although Liyue Harbor seems to have bounced back from the catastrophe quite quickly.”

“All thanks to the foundations that our Archon laid for Liyue.” The old man shook his head. “I may be but a poor fisherman, but even I know to thank Rex Lapis.

“Such is the way of life. Even bedrock turns to dust, eventually. What Rex Lapis and the Adepti have done will help the harbor— help each of us flourish for many a year to come,” Zhongli said, “whether we’re the humblest of fishermen, or the highest member of the Qixing.”

There was a short pause, the air charged with a tension you were sure you weren’t imagining.

“Very wise words, from one so young,” the old man chuckled. “Aah, you know what, Rex Lapis is gone anyway.” Gone? “No use making offers to a bygone God; it’s time I accepted the flow of change in Liyue. Will you accept this bottle of wine instead, young man?”

Zhongli’s smile widened a little. You hadn’t marked him down as the drinking type. “Certainly,” Zhongli said, lowering the bottle to his side. “Thank you very much.”

Well, I really must be going.” He peered at you, as you desperately tried to hide behind Zhongli. “Watch your step now, little lady! May the two of you be blessed with a happy life together,” he said as he left.

Zhongli raised a brow at that, but despite the warm flush spreading across your cheeks, you had more pressing matters to ask about. “Mr. Zhongli, what happened at this year’s Rite of Descension?”

“Why, of course,” Zhongli replied, “Rex Lapis died.”

“What?”

---

You listened in horror as Zhongli recounted the incidents that had occurred in Liyue Harbor while you had been held in captivity.

“But he can’t have died, he—'' You trailed off, realizing that the Geo Vision, the only evidence of his existence, would incriminate you in every single one of the lies you’d woven. Briefly, you felt a pang of guilt at what you were still hiding from Zhongli, when he had been nothing but kind to you. You swallowed that guilt quickly. “—he can’t have died. This is Rex Lapis we’re talking about.”

“Rex Lapis was a lot of things,” Zhongli acknowledged, “but neither the Adepti nor the Archons are unkillable. The carnage of the Archon War showed us that.”

“What about Geo Visions? Will no one ever get a Vision again?”

“How the Archons grant Visions is a mystery that has eluded even the most erudite researchers,” Zhongli responded, “I’m afraid that I cannot shed any light on that topic.”

“But the other night, at the statue, you let me pray to him, and—“ You peered at him. His expression was strange, pulled into a mild frown that you’d never seen before. “You know something else that you’re not saying, Mr. Zhongli, don’t you?” You realized how disrespectful that sounded as it came out of your mouth. “Sorry—“

“No… You are correct,” Zhongli admitted. “The Qixing, who conducted the investigation into Rex Lapis’ death, concluded that there was a likelihood that he was not truly dead. Or rather, I inferred as much during their public notice to the city at the Rite of Parting.”

He paused briefly, studying your expression intently. You tried to keep your expression neutral, tried to still the roiling emotions inside you. Zhongli continued, “however, the city has not heard from Rex Lapis since. Even if he is physically alive, Rex Lapis’ rule over the city has undoubtedly become a relic of the past. To be swept away by time, and forgotten.”

“Oh.”

“You seem to be deeply affected by Rex Lapis’ departure,” Zhongli observed — not a question. “I’m surprised. You didn’t strike me as the overtly religious type.”

“‘M not,” you murmured. “It’s just—“

Just that Rex Lapis didn’t feel like a distant God. You had read so many stories about him — those had been your favorite books, and had grounded you in knowing that there was someone out there, watching over Liyue and all its citizens. Even if you had never known peace, that offered some solace.

You paused. Your thoughts were all over the place, and you weren’t sure any amount of talking would help sort them through. Rex Lapis was still watching over the city — whether he meant to help you or not, the proof was sitting in the bottom of the drawer in your room. You couldn’t explain it, but you could feel his presence, knew it as certainly as you knew of the mountains and oceans and stars.

“Actually,” you said, a sudden calm soaring through your veins, “I’m okay, thank you, Mr. Zhongli. Rex Lapis has been watching over us for so, so many years, and if a peaceful retirement is what he wants, then it’s the least I can do to grant him that.”

There was such a long period of silence from Zhongli that you couldn’t help but glance at him. The smile on his face had you averting your gaze just as quickly. It made your heart ache.

“I am sure that, wherever he is, he would be appreciative of that,” he said, his voice tight with— What was that? If you didn’t know better, you would have thought it was mirth.

“What about you, Mr. Zhongli? You have a Geo Vision. I’m sure the news greatly upset you too.” You wondered what an upset Zhongli looked like. For all the conversing you’d been doing with him, you hadn’t seen him emote more than twice. What kind of upbringing must he have had, you found yourself wondering.

“There were… more than a few stressful moments,” Zhongli admitted. “But a peaceful retirement we shall give him, no?”

---

When you got home, before retreating to your room, you paused at the door.

“Mr. Zhongli?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, a low sound that vibrated in your bones. You swallowed, throat dry and parched, and knew that if you stopped now, you’d never gain your momentum back again.

“About me being able to read—“ You stammered. He held out a hand to stop you.

“As I said, you need only tell me about yourself when you’re ready.”

“I am ready.”

“You’re shaking.”

The second commercial law of Liyue you had read about in a book about the Qixing’s commandments — it had seemed like common sense to you at the time, but you were beginning to understand it a little more:

“The terms of every contract must be met with something of equivalent value.”

This was the first step. To truly knowing Zhongli. To understanding him better, like you’d been telling yourself all day. You had to offer something up yourself, too.

“I want to.” You pressed.

“I see,” Zhongli relented, leaning in towards you. It took everything in you not to start backtracking. “Then please, continue.”

And so you told him, about the books you’d stolen, about the cloudless nights you waited for eagerly, about the words you read under the pale moonlight. Zhongli remained silent throughout, thoughtful

“And what made you shy away from telling me this earlier?” He said, finally.

Did he really have to make you say it? “Because it’s— it’s not my place to learn to read. I wasn’t born into nobility — wasn’t even born into the ranks of the common folk. Someone like me has no business understanding the knowledge meant for the higher classes.” You recited all the words that had been hurled at you before. Still, the ‘I’m sorry’ caught against your lips; because you really weren’t. You’d do it all again if you had the choice.

You waited for him to gaze upon you with disgust. With, finally, the realization of what he had brought into his household — a thief, a rat, a girl who did not know her place.

“Your place?” Zhongli’s face was unreadable when he finally moved towards you. Despite steeling yourself, you flinched as he brushed past.

“Follow me,” he said, voice quiet, yet still an order.

You obeyed, hurrying to keep up as he ascended the long, winding set of stairs up to the library — watched as he opened the door, fear melting quickly into unbearable wonder.

Lining the walls of the enormous, yawning room were honeycomb rows of dark bookshelves, each filled with more books than you’d seen in your life. More books than the rest of Liyue had to offer, you’d venture to wager. Briefly, you wondered if even the National Library of Sumeru could hold a torch to Zhongli’s collection. From where you were standing, you could already see at least a dozen of different titles and genres: folklore, travel guides, mythology, cookbooks, martial art novels, poetry, fairy tales, memoirs—

If Zhongli had struck you down right then, you’d have left the mortal plane with a smile on your face from having been graced with such a sight.

“When Rex Lapis built up the civilization that would eventually become Liyue Harbor,” Zhongli said, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway, “he was not alone in his endeavors. Do you know of Guizhong, the Goddess of Dust?”

You carefully nodded. You’d only ever seen the name once, in a book — “The Stone Tablet Compilations,” you whispered, “I read that she taught the people to tend the soil, so that they might never go hungry again.”

You had never seen Zhongli so visibly shocked — amber gaze wide, brow raised — and almost wished that you could save that moment in your mind’s eye for eternity. When he composed himself, there was a smile on his face. “You are full of surprises, Hansi,” he murmured. “And do you know what Rex Lapis gave to the humans?”

“Currency,” you said, a little more confidently. Who would have thought that all those hours consuming journals and folk tales would one day earn you such an important favor? You racked your brains for the exact words that the book had used. “Fire. Knowledge. And the desire to break new ground, with determination unshakeable as mountains.” Zhongli nodded encouragingly, leaning towards you; and so you continue, emboldened. “It’s why he is also called the Lord of Wealth, of the Stove, of History, and the Groundbreaker.”

“Excellent,” Zhongli said, his voice guttural, all but a snarl. “And so, the Gods of Liyue taught the humans how to hunt, to cook, to trade, to live, to protect, no?”

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli,” you whispered, voice quieter than a breath. He heard you, anyway.

“You’ll find that the class hierarchy within the ranks of Liyue means precious little to me. And even if they did, restricting the flow of knowledge only to those born into privilege — it’s an absurd notion,” Zhongli gestured with one hand at the books in the room. “It’s an affront to Rex Lapis, who massacred hundreds of gods in the Archon War so Liyue could prosper. It’s an insult to the Goddess of Dust, who gave her life to ensure that the humans passed their legacies and knowledge onto future generations in safety.”

You nodded, not even a single breath left inside you. Every one of his words seemed to send a rumble through the floorboards, quiet but powerful. Never had you met a noble willing to even stray from the unspoken social rules of Liyue, let alone challenge them so boldly.

“To restrict knowledge is to directly contradict what the Founding Gods of Liyue believed in. I would never stand for it.” Finally, Zhongli turned to meet your stare. To your own surprise, you managed to stop yourself from looking away. And for the dozenth time that week, he shook your world. “The library is yours to use, Hansi. I ask only one thing — a contract of sorts, in keeping with Liyue tradition.”

The last commercial law of Liyue stated that: “Contracts made on Liyue soil were never to be broken, and those who reneged on their word would suffer the unspeakable wrath of the Lord of Geo.”

Whatever you promised here would be unquestionably binding — and you were ready to agree to it, whatever it was, if it meant you could so much as touch one of the books on these shelves.

“What is it?” You asked, heart sinking. What sort of cruel price would he demand? What did he want from you that he could not already readily take?

“That you come and tell me,” Zhongli said with a small smile, “about any stories you find particularly enjoyable.”

---

When you were ten, you got caught for the first time.

You’d made it down the street, clutching the loose pages to your heaving chest, but a loose cobblestone in the paved road had caught on your foot, and with a scream, you’d fallen.

The shopkeeper chasing you dragged you into an alley by your ankle and beat you within an inch of your life, expletives carried by his festering, drunken breath. The fracture in your ribs took two months to heal — three till you could breathe normally again — but it hurt most that before he left, he’d torn the book into shreds, scattering the pieces across the street. What would have meant the world to you had meant nothing to him.

You never got caught again.

—-

Standing in front of Zhongli, the giddy realization settled deeply into your heart. You would never have to steal again. Never have to run again. All of these books, more than you could begin to comprehend, more than you could read in a lifetime, were yours.

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes, warm and wet, but to your relief, you managed to blink them back.

“Deal,” you choked out and for the first time, Zhongli’s smile reached his golden eyes.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin zhongli #zhongli #genshin fanfic #zhongli fanfic #zhongli x reader #fragile as dust #anqi writes #my writing

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jaskiersbrokenlute · 3 years

Text

Song of The Witcher

Geralt sniffled, drying his tears and staring over the edge of the mountain. The clouds hugging the edge of the mountains, all turning orange and pink as the sunset over the horizon.

Once he'd have thought it was pretty, would have imagined a dragon flying through the perfect scenery.

But now he's here, his mother had left him and he was brought here. He wants his mother's arms and her stories, wants her to sing for him so he can sleep.

The tears start running anew, making him angrily wipe them away on his rough sleeve, his face red and throat tight.

He can't cry anymore, he's going to become a big strong monster hunter, he can't be a baby. None of the other boys are crying right now, they're inside the castle all sleeping in their shared room, where Geralt's supposed to be. But he can't sleep without his mother's song.

"Hi. Are you tired too?" A small voice comes from behind him, a younger boy who'd come with the same group of boys on the same cart that he'd come upon. They hadn't spoken, well Geralt hadn't spoken to him, the other boy was talking the entire way up the mountain, keeping the other boys' minds off what was happening around them, weaving tales of monsters and knights, maidens and princesses. Only when he stopped talking did he ever look phased by his life being stolen. Then he looked just as sad as Geralt felt, smiling when the other boys looked at him and fighting off tears when he thought no one was.

Geralt nods, his eyes heavy and exhausted now that he thinks of it.

the boy smiles, sitting down beside Geralt now that he's gotten a response. He'd learned from experience that if you're talking and the other person doesn't say anything they want you to go away. That happened a lot.

"Want one?" He asks, holding out a small fist full of wildflowers, mostly forget-me-nots, weeds and purple flowers Geralt doesn't know the names of. They're nice.

Geralt examines his face for a moment, red eyes and tear tracks that match his own, but on this boy, they're paired with a friendly smile. He's sad too, Geralt thinks, but he's hiding it.

"Thank you," He pulls a mostly wilted, yellow flower from the boy's hand, spinning it between his index finger and thumb.

"I can't sleep, the beds are hard and there are too many people in that room. At home, the bed was always too big and there was never anyone there, but it was soft at least." He shrugs, plucking the petals off a daisy.

"I lived in a big house, not as big as this one but big still,"

Geralt nods along as the boy speak, surprisingly grateful for the company and the noise to keep him from thinking about home, thinking about this boy's home instead.

"My father sold me," He whispered to his daisy, plucking off the last petal as he did so. "I don't mind too much, he wasn't nice to me anyway. No one was nice t me at home, except my nanny. She taught me how to sing." The daisy crumbled into yellow and green as he squeezed it in his fist.

"I miss her,"

Geralt watched the boy's chin wobble for a moment before he swallowed and collected himself, petting his hand over the tops of each flower as he slowed his breathing.

"My mom left me," He spoke up into the silence that had fallen over them, broken only by the boys shoeless feet digging lines into the dirt, connecting them with his toes to draw a castle.

"That wasn't nice," He says matter-of-factly.

"No. But she's nice, just not this time." He defended. She wasn't mean, and he still wants her even if she doesn't want him anymore. Maybe he can go back and find out what he did wrong, he could fix it and she could love him again.

"What's your name?" Geralt asked quickly, he could feel himself choking up again and, the both of them holding back tears would make talking harder.

"My name is Julian, but I want it to be different now. Everything else is different, and Julian is too boring for a hero," He looks at the sky thoughtfully,

"So, I'm going to be Flower,"

"Which one?"

"Which one what?" He squints, his nose curling up in a way that reminds Geralt of the mice that used to be in his home at night.

"Which flower? There's a lot of them."

"Oh, well I like every flower, so that's my name. When I get a favourite I'll make my name the best type of flower." He smiles, tossing his bouquet above his head so they fall down around him in an un-impressive heap, all stuck together from his tight grip on them.

"What's your name?"

Geralt takes a moment to think if he should have a new name too. Julian turned into Flower so he could be a better hero, but Geralt always called himself sir Geralt when he played knights, so it's already a hero name. Maybe he can have a surname, something like the knights from his stories.

But then you have to be off somewhere, and he doesn't have anywhere to be from yet.

"Just Geralt," He answers.

"That's a good name. Just Geralt and Just Flower."

Geralt smiles a small, cautious quirk of his lips. Maybe he's not all alone here anymore.

Now he's Geralt and Flower, and they're going to be heroes.

----------------

Continue on AO3 I wanted to post it all on here but it’s too big, sorry!

Tags for this story: @leaena2go @venus-ourania

#jaskier #the witcher #geraskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #fanfiction #geraskier fanfiction #my writing #geralt & jaskier #mostly platonic really #eskel #jaskier & eskel #vesemir #kaer morhen

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omegaplus · 2 years

Text

# 4,004

High Score Pinball + Game On; Spring 2020 & Spring 2021.

The following Wednesday I came back at noon and paid the frail emo casualty up front my $20.00. Does he have any idea what he’s doing here or what this is all about? He wouldn’t care, really. He’s only here to collect and will elicit a fake half-enthusiastic “oh, uh...that’s cool!” when asked. I’m here to revisit my Atari / Nintendo childhood. Eight hours and no time to waste. Let’s have it.

I walk in and there’s three Pac-Man machines grouped together: the 1980 original that became the first-ever character franchise, Baby Pac-Man and Super Pac-Man. Across from it is Ms. Pac-Man. How shameful they couldn’t include her from the boys’ club. There were vector games in Tempest, Lunar Lander, Asteroids, and Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back in super-sharp and blindingly bright on original CRT monitors. There was Gorf, arguably my very first arcade memory living in Brooklyn. Classics such as Centipede, Marble Madness and Spy Hunter which I haven’t played in its true form since forever. Defender, Robotron 2084, and Berzerk rounded out three of four parts of the Williams trilogy. Moon Patrol, Galaxian, Zaxxon, Gyruss, Phoenix, Dig Dug, Vanguard, and Missile Command - games I played endlessly on the home system - were there. Crystal Castles, one I always played on the Atari 2600, felt super-frantic and ultra-responsive on my first time ever playing it. Pengo and Mr. Do! - two games I remember my sis- B-Bomb telling me about - were finally crossed off the must-play list.

I found two extremely rare Nintendo Vs. red tents and with that came Donkey Kong, Donkey Kong Jr., Donkey Kong 3, Punch Out, Popeye, and the original Super Mario Bros which I always used to play at the neighborhood deli (thanks ma’). Even more impressive was the fact that they had Playchoice machines when the South Shore Mall had them. I walk further and there’s Bad Dudes and the first Double Dragon: agonizingly slow and sluggish as fuck like I remembered it.

There were pinball tables such as Spider-Man, Stranger Things, and Star Wars: Episode 1, but couldn’t ever compare to what High Score used to have. Foosball, (a rare) Super Chexx, a Ms. Pac-Man & Galaga cocktail machine, and even Alley Cats: a shuffleboard-slash-bowling hybrid were found. Never played anything like it. Sports-themed uprights in NBA Jam, NHL Ice, and Blades Of Steel which I played all of three minutes before walking away from it and headed for Arkanoid: Revenge Of Doh. I was even taken back by seeing games I never knew existed: Warp Warp and Lady Bug. And finally...Smash TV. I wasted an hour of my valuable life on cheap deaths and repetitious gameplay. I’ll never ever recommend it.

I look above and there was a scoreboard with all the high scores and initials written in chalk. Twin Galaxies this wasn’t and thankfully there were no Billy Mitchell sightings. Another thing up above us was a mural of Blaze, Axel, and Adam of Sega’s Streets Of Rage, deemed one of the best and most successful side-scrolling beat ‘em-ups ever. Further back of the arcade I found a bar set-up and a big projector screen behind it for anyone wanting to play Mario Kart on the big-screen. I looked hard enough to find authentic original operator’s manuals of Jungle Hunt, Centipede, Xevious, Asteroids, and Missile Command framed and hung on the wall. I also laserdiscs also framed and hung on the wall near the arcades storefront. Flashdance, License The Drive, Vision Quest, and - I kid you not - Dirty Dancing. Which reminded me...where the hell were Dragon’s Lair and Space Ace? And no Eighties’ fantasy world wouldn’t be complete without at least two small CRT TV’s set up to play Super Mario Bros. 3 and E.T. It was the perfect set-up founds in millions of kid’s rooms everywhere. And they still weren’t done.

“Have a good night!” she says. You know I will.

Heart: “Magic Man”

Eddie Money & Ronnie Spector: “Take Me Home Tonight”

Run DMC: “It’s Tricky”

Cutting Crew: “I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight”

Toto: “Africa”

A-Ha: “Take On Me”

Foreigner: “Waiting For A Girl Like You”

Bananarama: “I Heard A Rumor”

Wham: “Wake Me Up Befoe You Go-Go”

Mike & The Mechanics: “Silent Running”

Michael Jackson: “Billie Jean”

Rick Springfield: “Jessie’s Girl”

Bruce Springsteen: “Dancer In The Dark”

Pat Benetar: “Love Is A Battlefield”

J. Geils Band: “Centerfold”

Simple Minds: “Don’t You Forget About Me”

Tommy Tutone: “867-5309 / Jenny”

Cyndi Lauper: “Girls Just Wanna’ Have Fun”

Pointer Sisters: “I’m So Excited”

Starship: “We Built This City”

Steve Winwood: “Higher Love”

Whitney Houston: “I Wanna’ Dance With Somebody”

Survivor: “The Search Is Over”

The Outfields: “I Don’t Wanna’ Lose Your Love Tonight”

Flashdance original motion picture soundtrack

The Romantics: “What I Like About You”

Scorpions: Rock You Like A Hurricane”

Quiet Riot: “Come On (Feel The Noise)”

Pointer Sisters: “I’m So Excited”

Fabulous Thunderbirds: “Tough Enough”

Steve Perry: “Oh Sherrie”

Madonna: “Borderline”

Tiffany: “I Think We’re Alone Now”

Belinda Carlisle: “Mad About You”

Debbie Gibson: “Out Of The Blue”

Phil Collins: “Sssudio”

Lionel Richie: “All Night Long”

RUM DMC & Aerosmith: “Walk This Way”

Rick Astley: “Never Gonna’ Give You Up”

Bananarama: “Cruel Summer”

Cyndi Lauper: “Time After Time”

Kim Carnes: “Bette Davis Eyes”

Sting: “Every Breath You Take”

Heart: “What About Love”

Foreigner: “I Wanna’ Know What Love Is”

Bruce Springsteen: “Jack & Diane”

Mr. Mister: “Take These Broken Wings”

Bangles: “Hazy Shade Of Winter”

Don Henley: “Boys Of Summer”

Dire Straits: “Money For Nothing”

The Cars: “Shake It Up”

Peter Gabriel: “Big Time”

Bon Jovi: “Livin’ On A Prayer”

Allanah Myles: “Black Velvet”

Culture Club: “Karma Chamelion”

Mike & The Mechanics: “All I Need Is A Miracle”

Starship: “Sarah”

Wham: “Wake Me Up (Before You Go Go)”

Billy Ocean: “Caribbean Queen”

#omega #music #mixtapes #reviews #playlists #gaming #arcade #personal #Long Island #rock #hair metal #synthpop #new wave #dance #rap #awesome

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idk-mlb-is-reals-cute44 · 3 years

Text

Mirror

(AO3 Link)

Mirror. A reflective surface, often framed and decorated, in which your own appearance may be seen.

The first time Kagami snuck out was in the middle of July. She was supposed to be studying next year’s coursework, and she had gotten as far as cracking open the brand-new pre-calc textbook before she was suddenly standing, full of energy and not sure what to do with it. She fiddled with the choker Ladybug had finally entrusted her with that winter, and before she even made the decision to, she found herself on the roof, wrapped in an armor of spandex and magic. That first night was full of a dread that made her movements sloppy, her jumps often stumbled and her heart over-fast. Her mother had trusted her to study, to stay in her room and do as she was told. Slipping back through her bedroom window to find her treachery undiscovered filled her with a heady rush. A secret. She had a secret.

From then it became a habit. About once a week, often more, when she was supposed to be studying, she climbed out her window and took to the rooftops. She hadn’t realized how little of Paris she had seen until then. She visited kitschy sandwich shops and outdoor farmer’s markets. One particularly tepid August day, the week before school started, she stumbled upon a dance battle outside a small hip hop studio (she didn’t win, not by a long shot, but something about the feeling of being a part of a crowd, of a moment, thrilled her). After years of magical ladybugs and rampaging akumas and mayor’s daughters becoming superheroes, it was practically mundane to have a girl dressed in a dragon-y onesie visit your grocery store. She’d been complimented on her “cosplay” at least three times. She didn’t tell the other superheroes. She didn’t quite know why. It wasn’t against the rules or anything. Rena Rouge regularly picked up pizza before team hangouts, and Chat Noir had been spotted frequenting a flower shop once or twice. It was nice, though. To have something that was just hers. That wasn’t for anybody else. That she did just because she wanted to.

The first time she got a B on a homework assignment was an equal-parts mixture of confusingly exhilarating and nerve wracking. At first she was sure she would burn it. Shred it or rip it up and hide it in a dumpster where no one could find it. But instead she smoothed it out from where her tight grip had crumpled the paper, and slipped it in her backpack. She taped it to the back of her locker, and every now and then she would look at it and smile. She didn’t have any friends at school to ask her why. Even if she had, she wasn’t sure what she would say. Something about the curved letter, splashed in bright red across the top right corner of her history paper, made her feel like she was tethered. One large, egregious stomp of a footprint where before she had tiptoed, barely indenting the sand.

She was friends with the girl who butchered fish at the deli. Kagami wasn’t sure it was a deli, to be clear. It sold sandwich meats and cheese, but also fresh fish and honey cakes when the owner’s elderly mother made a batch, and a collection of awful romance novels on a shelf in the back that the owner collected and nobody bought. But the sign out front said “Alberts’ Deli,” so, Kagami was friends with the girl who butchered fish at the deli. Or, more specifically, Ryuko was. But Ryuko was more Kagami than Kagami was Kagami, most days. The girl was blonde and overwhelmingly foul mooded. She was rarely spotted without pink bubblegum scrunched between her teeth, and she was pessimistic in a way that made Kagami feel positively bubbly in comparison. When Kagami ordered fish, the girl went out of her way to find interesting newspapers to wrap it in, a sort of inside joke between the two of them. Kagami had never properly had an inside joke with someone before. Kagami didn’t know what to do with the fish that she bought. The money wasn’t a problem, she had a weekly allowance and nowhere to spend it barring the few times a month she and Adrien got together, but she hated wasting the fish, and it wasn’t like she could just leave it in her refrigerator. Her mom still didn’t know she’d been sneaking out, and mystery fish wasn’t easy to brush off. So far she’d been leaving it on Marinette’s balcony, because she seemed like the type of person who knew what to do with spare fish. But this weekend her mother was out of town until Sunday afternoon, and Kagami had an idea. Kagami didn’t know how to cook. Maybe she should have spent more time contemplating that, but she pulled up a recipe and googled how to use the stove. She burned herself three times, twice on her pinkie finger and once across her palm, but she ended up with an arguably passable cooked fish. It was a little burnt and a little under seasoned, but she ate the whole thing, and hand washed her plates and the pan, returning them exactly where they had been. It felt like a victory.

“I’m gay,” she said to an old man as she helped him cross the street. He looked a little confused, due to her being a complete stranger, but shrugged and said, “Whatever floats your boat, Missy.” “I’m gay,” she said to the girl who worked at the deli. “Am I supposed to act surprised?” Adelaide returned in a bored voice, scrounging up a copy of the funnies that she’d saved at the bottom of the newspaper pile in the case that Kagami stopped by. Kagami smiled. “I’m gay,” Kagami tells Ladybug, on accident when the two of them are partnered up on patrol. She hadn’t meant to. She’d wanted to keep her life and Her Life separate. But it was out there now. “Oh,” Ladybug said, looking a little shocked. “Oh, okay.” “Is that okay?” Kagami asked, hesitating before her next jump and fumbling the landing. “Yes,” Ladybug said, and Kagami knew that she would say yes, she did know it, but something in her breathed a sigh of relief anyway, “Yes of course it’s okay.”

Kagami joined a hip hop class. Not Ryuko-Kagami. Kagami-Kagami. Kagami, face bare of any mask and hands exposed to the open air, asked her mother if she could sign up for a dance class at the studio where the dance battle had been. She didn’t tell her mother about the dance battle. Her mother had been confused, at first. But she’d agreed. Reluctantly, but she’d agreed. Kagami’s first class went poorly. It was November, so everyone else was leagues ahead of her, and she kept messing up the moves. Her arms felt jerky and awkward and her feet were never quite in the right place it seemed. She didn’t know if she’d ever been that happy in her life.

The B on her homework didn’t become a common recurrence. She kept the history paper taped to her locked, and it was joined by one pre-calc assignment and a lab write up, but overall she kept her grades up. She knew her place in the hip-hop class was more or less dependent on her school and fencing performance remaining unchanged. She’d made one friend though. “What’s that about?” George asked the first time they walked together to their lockers, hers and then his, in order of closeness to their final class, “You do know that you get the top grades in, like, the whole year, right? You don’t have to torture yourself with the few average grades you get. Anyone would be jealous to just have 3 Bs.” “No,” she said, “It’s not about that.” He seemed to want to ask what it was about, then, but she shrugged. They walked in silence to his locker, and she leaned against the wall as he stuffed back-breaking textbooks into his backpack. “My name means mirror,” she said finally, and he looked up, curious, “Sometimes it’s nice to… remind myself I’m not just the things people want to see in me. I guess.” “That’s… poetic,” George said, but not like he was mocking her. Kagami felt half her mouth lift in an awkward smile. “Thanks.”

She ends up not being very well suited to hip hop. Which isn’t to say that she quitted, just that she discovered her “worst in the class” phase wasn’t much of a phase at all. The gap became smaller, though. Penelope, a girl not much younger than Kagami, asked Kagami to help her with the footwork she forgot. The teacher corrected her less and less. She stopped feeling like a fish out of water and more like an average fish in a school of particularly exceptional fish… or something. They had a dance battle again. The studio puts them on once every three months, and participation isn’t mandatory but there’s no shortage of friendly peer-pressure. Kagami finds out that it’s scarier to dance in front of a crowd when you know them and they know you. When you’re not just a stranger in a mask. She didn’t anticipate how much sweeter the failure feels when, upon hopping off the makeshift outdoor stage, you’re surrounded by friends (and they are her friends, she has so many more friends than she could have ever imagined) whom holler and yell about how “AMAZING you were, Kagami, oh my god you killed it!” Penelope shyly asked if Kagami could show her how to do the jump Kagami had made up. It was a weird jump, kind of stumble-y and very awkward. Kagami shows her anyway. (She was still the worst in the class. She really didn’t mind.)

“You seem different,” Adrien said off-handedly one evening. The two of them were eating ice cream in the park, watching the newly sprung-up grass sway in the breeze. There was still some snow on the ground, leftover from the last big storm of winter. “I know,” Kagami said, “I feel different.” “You seem happier,” he added, getting chocolate all over his face. She smiled, and handed him a napkin, and stared up at the sky. “I spent so much time trying to be what other people wanted me to be,” she said, taking a contemplative lick of her strawberry ice cream, “And then I decided to figure out who I was when I wasn’t.” Adrien was quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure who I am all the time,” he confessed. Kagami giggled. “Me neither.”

#Kagami Tsurugi #kagami tsurugi fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #kagami centric #character study #kagami tsurugi character study

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ultrahpfan5blog · 3 years

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My very belated thoughts on Game of Thrones and season 8 in particular

I feel like I have a somewhat unique perspective on GoT. The show has been such a pop culture phenomenon that I feel that fans have been invested in it for years, either having been book fans who watched the show, or those having watched the show for the better part of a decade. For me, I was never a part of the fandom because I never watched the show until it was in season 7. The books sound great but because I can’t stand reading incomplete series, I have never read them, and at this point, it just feels unlikely that GRRM will end up finishing the series. That sucks because its just the sort of fiction that I would love. I started watching GoT in season 7, and then in season 8. Obviously, I had very little clue what was going on other than the broad strokes and I was watching purely because the spectacle and scale was something I had never seen before on tv. On that front alone it was entertaining. Given the incredibly divisive reaction, I didn’t feel like spending the amount of hours required to watch the show from scratch, but because covid ended up impacting so many ongoing tv shows and movies, I ended up deciding to give it a go. I started a couple of months ago and just finished season 8 a couple of days ago. Its been quite an experience, belated as it may be.

I still feel that I view the show differently than a lot of people. Obviously, its a very different emotional commitment for me, having watched the show in 2 months whereas other have watched the show for about 10 years. Having not read the books, I don’t have the issue of comparing the quality of the books to the show. And given I saw season 8, I watched the show with the ending in mind, so I could understand if the ending made sense to me or not.

On the whole, the show is worth a lot of applause. The production, acting, music, writing, visuals etc... is something I have never seen on tv. Juggling such a huge cast of characters with so many ongoing storylines is an incredible achievement. Say what you will about season 8′s writing, but from a production, scale, and performance standpoint, the show remained stellar all the way through. And for that, I do think D&D deserve credit. I know that is an unpopular thing to say but they still have created something that is truly one of a kind. The show is definitely not perfect, even before season 8. There are storylines that drag, storylines that aren’t given the time they deserve, character developments that don’t completely work etc... but I feel that is part and parcel of every long running show. There are very few that are perfect, and for the sheer complexity of the narrative, its amazing that the show isn’t more convoluted. I do agree that the final 2 seasons are the weakest seasons of the lot. I still think season 7 is very good, and the first half of season 8 I also like a lot, but seasons 1-6 are superb. Its difficult for me the select my favorite season. I suppose season 4 is probably at the top. Its kind of the end of the era season, with the death of Joffrey, Tyrion’s trial, then him leaving Westoros. Arya and Sandor’s time together coming to an end with her traveling to Braavos, death of Tywin, and Jon rising in the ranks of the Nights Watch and becoming a more prominent character in the show. I love seasons 5-6 because of the rise of Jon. Season 2 arc of Tyrion as hand of the King was also excellent. My favorite episodes all come from these seasons. I love the battle episodes, with Blackwater, Hardhome, and Battle of the Bastards being 3 of my favorite eps. The Laws of Gods and Men is another episode I love just for the climax where Peter Dinklage just tears into the scene with his full might. I also loved Pedro Pascal as Oberyn in season 4. He added a unique quality and I was sad to see him not last past season 4. There were a few storylines that I wasn’t completely fond of. The early years of Daenerys weren’t the most compelling, Arya in Braavos was just too slow for my taste, the Littlefinger and Sansa storyline in season 4 also felt like they were treading water and then they backtrack on Sansa’s development in season 5. Also, Staanis was someone who went a little too batshit crazy in his lust for power. Felt a little out of character.

Now, when it comes to season 8, There are a lot of complaints about a lot of things. I will say that the main issue with season 8 is that it crams what should be 2 seasons of storylines and crams it into a single 6 episode season. I think virtually every complaint can be traced back to that. I actually really like episodes 1 and 2. Especially episode 2. Brienne’s knighting is actually very touching. Its great to see characters reuniting and characters meeting for the first time. I know lots of people complained about episode 3 and while its not as good as the other 3 battle episodes that I mentioned before, I still think its excellent. I did not have the lighting problem that others had. I watched it on my laptop and I could see everything. The episode is titled ‘The Long Night’ so I expected things to be dark, but it isn’t as if I had trouble seeing what happened. The episode is incredibly intense and while its a bit difficult o figure out how so many survived and there are some questionable tactics for sure, its still quite a spectacular spectacle. My only issue with the episode is really all Jon related, which I will get back to in a bit.

I know that Daenerys turning into the mad queen is a huge point of contention for the season. While I absolutely agree that that character arc went from 0 to a 100 way too fast, I don’t think it was completely out of the blue. Knowing the ending, I kept an eye on Daenerys, and I think there are a lot of instances where her first instinct to fixing problems has been to unleash her dragons. She has had characters around her like Selmy, Jorah, later Tyrion, even Daario, who have tempered that instinct somewhat. But that is still a natural instinct for her. Not to mention, in Essos, she was dealing with a fairly black and white issue when it comes to slavery. And she mistakenly thought, her experiences in Essos would translate to Westoros. She came with the idea that the common people would support her without fully processing the idea that she was bringing foreign armies into their land and three dragons, which had not been seen by people for generations. So they had legitimate reasons for fear. So it wasn’t completely out of the blue that she unraveled when confronted with the revelations that she was feared more than she was loved and that she did not have the sort of universal support she thought she would have. Obviously, that was compounded by the losses that she tacked up one after another. Definitely, one more season was required to make that a satisfactory arc, but I don’t think it was completely random. And honestly, once she did what she did in episode 5, she was never going to survive the show. I will say this, Emilia Clarke was outstanding in season 8. She was never the cast member who stood out in seasons past, but season 8 was really her season. While the character development was rushed, she sold every scene and earned her lead actress emmy nomination.

There are some endings which people hated which I understood. Like Jaime’s ending, which people were pretty pissed about, is an ending I quite get. As much as we love the story of redemption, the Cersei and Jaime bond was just too deep and toxic for him to so easily extricate himself. I get why he would be drawn back to her when he knew she was in danger. I think Lena and Nikolaj really sold their final scenes together. I felt for Lena as an actress. As a result of the short season, she really didn’t get much to do all season. Her death scene is really the only time she gets material to chew on. So that was a pity. I think Brienne and Sandor Clegane were two characters for whom their endings were perfect. Brienne becoming a knight of the six kingdoms and Clegane finally getting revenge on his brother was extremely satisfying. Theon’s ending was pretty much perfect. Sansa becoming queen in the North makes sense. The show seemed to be building towards it. Sophie Tuner gets some good material in the final season where you can see that there is a lot happening in her head and not all of it is altruistic. She does have a power hungry side to her, even if she’s not self destructively so. Maisie Williams was strong again. I wasn’t a huge fan of her getting to kill the Night King over Jon but there lots of good moments she has with Jon, Sandor, Gendry, Sansa etc... Bran becoming King of the six Kingdoms is definitely not the greatest ending. I don’t know whose decision it was to turn Bran into a robot and have him do nothing other than sit and stare, but it definitely wasn’t the greatest. I can’t imagine it was a particularly satisfying experience as an actor for Isaac. I did enjoy a couple of moments with him and Jaime, harking back to season 1.

The two other major characters are Tyrion and Jon. Certainly the finale is very heavily centered on those two. I do agree with the notion that they really dumbed down on Tyrion’s intelligence as he makes a lot of wrong moves in the last couple of seasons. But Peter Dinklage the actor has never disappointed. His performance in the finale ranks as one of his finest on the show. There has never been a time when he has not given his all. Him ending up as the hand is pretty effective ending. He is a humbled man, admitting that he’s not as smart as he thought he was. So maybe he would be a better hand as a result of that experience. Jon’s ending is another controversial one. I am in the audience who really wasn’t a fan of how Jon was treated in season 8. Kit Harington was quite poorly served in season 8, which was a bit of a whiplash since Jon was arguably at his most badass in season 5-7 and became a huge a fan favorite. Certainly he took over from Dinklage as the de facto male lead of the show. The character only comes back to life at the very end of episode 5. Part of that is probably the point. That Jon became too bent to Daenerys’ will, as Varys said.to Tyrion. It took Daenerys burning down King’s Landing to wake him up. I get that from a narrative standpoint, buts its dissatisfying from a character perspective when its the final season. Certainly I found it very strange how little role he played in The Long Night, given the White Walker storyline was Jon’s primary storyline on the show. Put aside killing the Night King, a showdown which was promised on the show, he didn’t even do much else in the episode. At the very least he should have gotten to destroy the undead Viserion. The memes about his dialogue in the season aren’t unfounded. But, I will say that Kit Harington is fantastic in the series finale. He arguable has the centerpoint scenes of the finale, the two scenes with Tyrion, and then the scene with Danaerys where he is literally begging her to give him a reason not to kill her and she keeps saying the wrong thing. Certainly Peter and Kit end the season on a high note. Him ending up with the Wildlings seems appropriate because Jon never seemed cut out to be King, nor did he ever want that responsibility. He probably would have been better than Bran, but its a decent enough ending for him. In the end, the way the show ends I was mostly ok with, but the path to getting there should have come with one extra season at least.

In the end, the production and the acting will always be something I will remember. I didn’t even mention great performances from Sean Bean, Charles Dance, Alfie Allen, Stephen Dillane, Conleth Hill, Aiden Gillen, Diana Rigg, Jerome Flynn, Liam Cunningham among many others over the years. So even though I do have issues with the final season, I feel that the good far outweighs the bad when it comes to the show. Its not a show I foresee rewatching any time soon since its one of those shows that requires some digestion and a lot of hours, but I certainly don’t regret the time I gave to it.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #sansa stark #arya stark #jaime lannister #cersei lannister #tyrion lannister #bran stark #ned stark

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ourladyofomega · 3 years

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Summer of 2006. I waited to take the trip to Philadelphia for a month to see Sleater-Kinney since my former ‘friend’ and fellow DJ D-Klein offered tickets for people to go with him. We had no idea who else would be playing up until then. With us was Elizabeth, D-Klein’’s friend and a huge Sleater-Kinney fan. And off we went to Philadelphia in a sweltering partly cloudy 95* day.

We travel through Coney Island when out of nowhere D-Klein and Elizabeth decide to stop at Astroland to ride the Cyclone. It put the trip on pause like a video game to take a spontaneous time out. But they enjoyed themselves, and why not? I wasn’t going to keep them.

We then drive through the Verrazano Bridge, then Staten Island and through New Jersey. I see all the industrial areas, petrol-storage facilities, the many rest stops, restaurants, and Sunocos lining the New Jersey Turnpike. Last time I checked, the Sunocos averaged no more than $3.05 a gallon. The music played nothing but, you guessed it, Sleater-Kinney, a taste to what to expect. So Olympian, so Kill Rock Stars. Also on the player was D-Klein spinning almost the ntire X-Ray Spex CD as well. We finally arrive in the Philadelphia outskirts at around 6:30 PM and shortly thereafter we cut through Chinatown. I didn’t know Philadelphia even had a Chinatown, but the three of us riding around assumed this was where we would go for some sushi.

Eventually we drive past the venue and see the young Philadelphia hipsters do nothing but stand in line waiting for the show to start and others walking the Philly streets towards the venue as well. We park in front of the bistros and tables and chairs set up on the sidewalks of Philly. At this point we still had no idea who else was playing other than Sleater-Kinney.

We choose Swanky Bubbles, a champagne and sushi bar. For a small eatery it was pretty neat with well-lit ambience and matching low-volume music to go with it. Me, D-Klein, and Elizabeth sit down and talk about the difference between the Philadelphia and Long Island punk scenes, some college student economics, party appearances, and other fine places to eat over our sushi dinner. We order between us wasabi mashed potatoes, a lychee drink, six spears of buttered asparagus salted with parmesan cheese, and sushi rolls such as California, Tuna, Philly, Spider Leg, Time Bomb, and Double Dragon (wasn’t that a video game?); and for dessert, a crispy Thailand banana split. $110.00 was the bill. Sold.

We walk back to the venue and the valet parking guy allowed us to park right in front of the entrance. It was now Club Polaris, formerly the Starlight Ballroom. We get there and find people with extra tickets to give away or sell. In the meantime, we hang out with the organizer of the venue. D-Klein was talking to him about the past shows of yester-years and decades ago. The promoter informs us that Clear Channel was trying to buy out both their venue and Philly scene. It’s depressing to think that Clear Channel would buy out the punk, indie-rock, and hardcore kids and tell them to fuck off so that Clear Channel can put their clean, polished, packaged industry acts in there, with no other outlets for these kids to go who call the streets their own. How we thought that pretty soon, the scene could implode with nowhere to go and be swallowed up into nothing. Where else would we go but further down?

It was when we stand in front of the Polaris waiting to get in that we heard music from inside the venue. We all finally find out to our surprise from the organizer the band was sharing the bill with Sleater-Kinney:

…The Roger Sisters.

Me and D-Klein were floored and it was then we knew that a great show was already going to become even greater.

We go in and this truly was the scene the magazines always talked about. Guys dressing hardcore, some moppy, some Napolean Dynamite cartoonish, and some slim t-shirts. The girls were pretty cute as well with their art-school haircuts, skirts, funny tees, piercings, and either Olympia-type or Williamsburg-type super-feminist style. Imagine makeoutclub ever having a meeting center.

Polaris was dark and crowded. All around us were many bars to get beer. There were many booths where kids sat around and mostly in groups drinking beers and water. (Remember, this was during a heat-wave. The Eastern board was hit with 90 degree-plus weather with lots of humidity). Some were quiet, arms crossed and minding their own. Others were very delighted to see each other and were greeted with hugs and kisses. We witnessed a couple of lesbians making out as well. And you had to give it to one fan who came to the show in a wheelchair.

The ballroom, as expected, was huge with lots of standing space. When the three of us got there, the front of the standing room was taken up but we managed to make our way about ten feet from the speakers, with a very lucky few who took a spot standing right under the vent. We had a good view to see the Rogers Sisters perform. Miyuki Furtado (bass / vocals) dedicated a song to Spiro Agnew, but took it back and later dedicated it to Condoleezza Rice. Jennifer Rogers (vocals / guitar) applied her lip gloss to prepare for the end of their set. Miyuki whipped himself around in a frenzy, performing sonic guitar tricks and creating feedback for all of us. We literally see the sweat and mist come off of his forehead. Laura Rogers (drums / vocals) whipped herself into a frenzy, too. The set lasted only 45 minutes but it was a good set. As we didn’t even know that the Rogers Sisters would play, it was no loss and all gain. Everyone wins.

The three of us hit the merchandise tables. I score Sleater-Kinney’s self-titled CD for $15.00 and I wanted to get some Rogers Sisters stuff but no one was at the tables yet. We sit around taking in all this humidity and heat observing the scene for a little bit more before we hit the merch- tables again where Miyuki and Laura finally set shop. A d.i.y. ethic. For $7.00 I grabbed three 7” singles from the Sisters who came off as very nice and gracious people. Elizabeth scores a Roger Sisters CD and matching Sleater-Kinney tees for her and her friend.

What hooked me to the Rogers Sisters was that I discovered them on WUSB’s Riot Grrrl Plus show in Summer 2003 and happened to record “I’m A Ballerina” on tape. And every chance I had I aimed to play them on the air. Why not? I figured people can be art-smart from getting into them. Bonus.

Sleater-Kinney finally came to play for a good 90 minutes. I believe D-Klein’s life has now culminated into this one night: he’s a huge fan who never had failed to play them on his show on a consistent basis (and he’s known to do that with Sonic Youth as well). Without him he wouldn’t have made this attempt to see them one last time.

One last time? Yes, Sleater-Kinney would finally call it quits after eleven years of making Kill Rock Stars a lot of money. This was their last tour and The Woods was their final record. They had to go out with style big time.

They came on and it was deafening. These ladies knew how to rock. Listen to the way they sound as theirs was rivaled by no other. Mid-set, Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker faced off and play their guitars towards each other and it was amazing. I was taken over. For 90 minutes I was trying to follow and absorb everything that Sleater-Kinney performed. Janet throws drumsticks and Carrie shakes out water bottles at the crowd to cool themdown. Fans screamed for them to keep going, not to go. They really loved this band that truly represented the indie-rock crowd and grrrls / femmes in general. One guy even ran on stage and urged the crowd to get ready to catch him up as he was about to stage-dive. He jumps off and instead lands on his feet. Sorry, Charlie. It’s not how it goes here at a Sleater-Kinney show.

After a while, they walk off-stage and fans just did not want to get it, so they stand there cheering and clapping heavily for five minutes more. And yes, they came back to play a few more songs, some off of The Woods. And that’s all she wrote in Philadelphia. An extended ovation as one-by-one Sleater-Kinney walks off-stage and acknowledge their fans with handshakes and smiles.

I don’t know about D-Klein or Elizabeth, but my head was about to explode. Throbbing. My entire body dripping of sweat, my shirt damp from the humidity. We leave Polaris and start driving home, a very exhausting three-hour drive compounded by listening to more Sleater-Kinney, X-Ray Spex and now The Rogers Sisters, taking home a still-pounding headache and wonderful memories from the last day of July that year.

#omega #our lady omega #grrl #riot grrl #hipster #Sleater-Kinney #personal #Philadelphia #Rogers Sisters #Janet Weiss #Carrie Brownstein #Corin Tucke #Laura Rogers #Jennifer Rogers #Miyuki Furtado

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out-of-this-town · 4 years

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The trouble of owning a dragon

Fairy Tail, Nalu, friendship, romance & fluff

Lucy ends up becoming the owner of a small, troublesome dragon. However, owning a dragon is not a simple matter -especially when the dragon turns out to be not a dragon.

Chapter 2 (ao3) (ff)

Lucy would have stuffed the dragon into her bag if she didn’t think he would dig his way through it. But now that she was standing at the train station, she wondered if sacrificing her favorite bag would have been worth it. Natsu seemed beyond agitated and ready to take off at any second.

He was sitting on her shoulder, tail wrapped tightly around her neck and claws digging hard into her shoulder. She had tried easing his grip on her a few times, but it only worked for a minute or so before he was back to clamping onto her. Lucy could tell he was nervous about something, she just didn’t know what. She had expected this to go like it had yesterday, with him hissing at every human that looked their way. But no, it wasn’t like that at all.

Natsu’s odd stillness and neediness to hang onto her had started that morning, when Lucy had tried telling him how to behave on the train. He’d started making distressed sounds and clawing at her luggage. She knew he was trying to tell her something, but the problem was, she didn’t speak dragon.

And now he was just sitting in his place, not making a sound, staring at the train tracks with unblinking eyes. He hadn’t so much as looked at the man that had bumped into her on the way here!

Lucy was getting more worried the longer this went on. He hadn’t even finished his breakfast! Had she broken him somehow? What was she supposed to do with an ill dragon? She didn’t think that any vet in Magnolia was qualified to treat dragons. Ugh, this whole dragon business was a nightmare!

Petting the side of his head with her hand, she tried calming him as much as herself with the repetitive movement. Even though Natsu hadn’t hurt her in the small amount of time she’d had him, she was still a little distrustful of the dragon, half expecting to be bitten for touching him. He didn’t bite her though, he barely acknowledged her at first. She stroked her finger against his scaled cheek a few times before he lightly leaned himself against her hand. His gaze didn’t stray from the train tracks though.

“Natsu,” she cooed softly, trying to distract him from whatever it was that was causing him worry. Reluctantly, the dragon tilted his head to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

She wasn’t sure why she kept talking to him as if he could actually answer, but somehow it felt right. There was an odd spark in his eyes when she talked to him, something that told her he wasn’t just about his instincts; he was far smarter than that. Like he was capable processing and understanding in a way that wasn’t normal for an animal of any kind.

Natsu looked at her a with serious eyes before his head snapped towards the sound of the approaching train. He inched closer to her head and leaned against it.

Was she imagining it or was the dragon trembling slightly?

The sound of the train whistle had Natsu standing on his hind legs and screeching in distress while his wings flapped in alarmed manner. Well, one of them was flapping, the other just rammed against her cheek repeatedly.

Was he afraid of the train? How was that possible? Dragons didn’t travel with trains... Unless he’d been transported with it earlier and the experience had traumatized the poor creature.

Lucy cursed herself for not asking more questions from the shopkeeper. Was he the one to traumatize Natsu, or was the wizard who sold him responsible?

“Hey, Natsu, it’s going to be okay. Trains aren’t that bad. Whatever has you so spooked about them is not going to be a problem, I promise.” Lucy tried to soothe him, though her words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

She wanted to hug him close, partly to try and calm him and partly to make sure he didn’t take off on his own. Nervous dragon loose on the crowded train platform was just asking for trouble. She couldn’t act on her wish to hold him though, since she had to keep a hold of her luggage. The best she could do at the moment was try and grab his tail again if he decided to make a run (fly?) for it.

Of course she could summon one of her spirits to lend a hand, but Lucy was a little worried about how Natsu would react to something like that, and this definitely wasn’t the place to find out. Once they were back in Magnolia however, the celestial mage planned on familiarizing Natsu with all her spirits. She had a feeling they would be needed to help her manage the dragon.

As the train rumbled to a stop at the station, Lucy kept one hand at the ready to catch him while also murmuring soft words of comfort, though she didn’t think it was helping much.

Lucy waited until most of the crowd had filtered out of the way before making her way into the train. Natsu was tense on her shoulder, his claws biting through her shirt and into her skin. Deciding that reprimanding him would be cruel considering his current state, Lucy tried her best to walk with quick and steady steps to their seats. Beyond glad that she had managed to book both of the seats in order to avoid any incidents, she pushed her luggage next to the wall and sat down.

Prying Natsu off of her shoulder turned out to be surprisingly difficult. He was sitting rigidly and his claws were tangled in the material of her t-shirt. It took some tugging as well as ruining her shirt, but she had him sitting on her palms just in time for when the train to started moving.

And just like that, Natsu was laying flat on her hands, the bright red color of his scales dulling before her eyes and turning a concerning shade of light pink. Even his unusually warm body seemed to cool in an instant.

“Natsu?” she whispered, poking him gently with her thumb. All she got was a little grumble. “...Are you motion sick?” She really couldn’t think of another reason for his sudden look of illness.

Tail wound tightly around his small body, Natsu tucked himself into a little ball and nuzzled her palm.

“Oh, you poor little thing.”

She held him close to her chest with hand while using the other to fish out a few napkins from her handbag. Carefully so not to pounce him around too badly, she tugged the napkins under the sick dragon -just in case. “Would you like some water or food? I think eating something salty might help.”

If the sound he made was any indication, he didn’t.

Lucy stroked softly along his back, murmuring what she hoped were comforting words and trying her best not to jostle him. The next few hours would be long for the tiny creature and she felt awful for unknowingly putting him through this. What a horrible way for him to spend the second day with his new carer.

Hopefully he won’t hate me after this, she thought grimly.

When the ticker inspector stopped to chat with her, Lucy felt terrible for being relieved of the dragon’s current condition. But honestly, letting your dragon tear into a train employee was a sure way to get kicked off the train... Though Natsu would probably be happy about that.

Hours later, when they finally arrived to Magnolia, Lucy nudged Natsu to crawl around her neck, where he hung limp. While cursing at the way her hands were cramping after petting him for so long, she gathered her bags and rushed out of the train as fast as she could.

She really hoped that some fresh air would be all that the dragon needed to feel better. And luckily, it really didn’t take long for Natsu to start lifting his head in order to look around. Lucy suspected that the heavenly scent from the bakery was a great motivator for his improved health.

“Don’t even think about it,” Lucy warned when she saw him eyeing a burger stand. “Food is going to have to wait until we get home.” She wasn’t going to temp faith after surviving the train ride without any incidents.

Natsu growled in displeasure and gazed longingly to where the food was located. But thankfully, he remained on her shoulder even he wasn’t happy to do so. Lucy reached up to scratch under his chin, hoping to placate him. “I’m glad that you are feeling better.”

He looked at her, still offended for having been denied food but he seemed to cheer up when she promised he would get to eat soon . He clicked happily at her before nuzzling her cheek. Stars, he was adorable.

As soon as she pushed open her apartment door, Natsu shot off her shoulder to explore. Lucy was slower to follow him to the living room, dropping her bags to the floor, she watched as Natsu flew around the room before landing on her dresser. He sniffed and poked at the nick-knacks there, and Lucy could only hope that he didn’t try to eat anything there.

She took the time to empty her luggage while Natsu got busy crawling around every available surface. He was very interested in the bed, rolling on the blankets and digging himself under the covers. The next time she looked up, she found him nosing through her desk and the papers there. She didn’t waste time jumping up to shoo him away. “No! Don’t touch those, I’ve-”

But Natsu wasn’t listening to her since he was already speeding towards the kitchen. Lucy grumbled under her breath and followed after him to make sure he didn’t destroy anything.

They were both disgruntled to find that Lucy did not, in fact, have anything to eat in her kitchen. As it turned out, she had forgotten that she had planned to do the shopping once she’d been paid for her latest job.

Lucy slammed her head against the fridge in frustration. Her two options were to go shopping with hungry and less-than-happy Natsu (because leaving him alone in her apartment seemed like a bad idea) or head to the guild and eat there.

It wasn’t difficult to decide that the guild would be the better option. None of her friends would sue her for the damage Natsu did, and her guildmates would have to meet the dragon sooner or later -might as well get that out of the way. And she did need to go inform Mira that her mission had been a success and she was back, safe and sound. So the Guildhall it was.

“All right then.” She plucked Natsu off the kitchen table where he was sulking and held him in front of her. “We are going to head for the guild where we can eat. BUT! No biting or clawing at anyone unless I tell you to, got it?”

He only wagged his tail in excitement over the promise of food.

Lucy let him clime to his usual spot around her neck before snatching up her bag and marching out the door. She had hoped to feed Natsu at home and then try to introduce him to some of her spirits -she still needed to see if Aries wanted to make a contract- before venturing into the crowds with him, but this couldn’t be helped. Though she would have felt far more comfortable knowing that she could safely call for her spirits to help if Natsu went on a rampage.

Luckily the streets were calm and Natsu was more focused on the prospect of food than he was on the passersby. Lucy tried to distract him further by telling him about her family at the guild. She was pleased to find that he seemed to be interested in what she had to say. He became very excited when Mira’s cooking skills were mentioned and grumpy when Gray’s stripping habit came up. All in all, she was curious to see how Natsu would settle in.

The dragon on her shoulder tensed when she walked through the massive double doors of the guildhall. There weren’t that many people around, but Natsu shifted nervously as Lucy replied to the few hellos that were yelled in her direction.

“It’s all right. They are all friends,” she cooed at him while trying to pry the claws off of her shoulder. She took a seat at the bar, grateful that the others were sitting around the tables and no one was nearby to harass Natsu just yet. That is, until Mirajane popped up from behind the bar, startling the poor dragon badly enough that he nearly fell from his spot.

“Lucy! You’re back! And you brought a friend.” Mira’s eyes zeroed in on Natsu, and she giggled when he hissed at the barmaid. “Can’t say that we’ve had dragons inside the guild before.”

“No, Natsu,” Lucy reprimanded him sternly when he made a swipe towards the other woman. “This is Mirajane. The one I told you about, remember? The one who won’t feed us if you bite her.”

Natsu looked between Lucy and Mira a few times, before he dared to move himself on top of the bar. He approached the new person carefully, keeping his eyes nailed to her like he was expecting an attack. Mira lowered her hand slowly for him to sniff. After a long minute that had Lucy biting her lip nervously, Natsu sat back and gave what looked like a nod. The two women took that to mean that he was accepting Mira as not a thread.

“Oh my, aren’t you adorable.” Lucy could tell from her tone that the she-devil was finding it difficult not to cuddle the scaled creature. “How on Earth Land did you get yourself a dragon?”

“Ugh, not on purpose.” Lucy shook her head, still finding it hard to believe that she had an actual dragon. “It involved a sleazy, blackmailing shopkeeper -whose shop you should never visit, by the way- and my desperation to get Aries’ key.”

“Oh, you finally found the key! Loki must be pleased. And I’m sure Aries is happy to have a home with you too.” Mira clapped her hands together in a joyful manner and smiled widely. She knew just how long Lucy had been looking for that one key.

Lucy shrugged and glanced at Natsu, who was following the conversation with narrowed eyes. “I haven’t had the opportunity to talk to either of them yet, but I’m planning on it once we’ve had something to eat.” She smiled hopefully.

“Say no more. I assume you want your usual? And...uh...what do dragons eat?”

Lucy decided on a large steak for Natsu, though she had to assure Mira that the dragon could definitely handle the big meal despite his size. And he seemed eager to prove her right with the way he inhaled the meat as soon as it was placed in front of him. Lucy ate her burger and fries with more manners while chatting with Mira about the details of her last mission.

“Has Happy returned yet?” Lucy asked after finishing her milkshake. Natsu had seemed to fall into a food coma next to his plate.

Mira shook her head. “Not yet. I got a word from Wendy right after you left for your job; they got sidetracked at the beginning of the mission and are just now getting started with their monster hunt.”

Lucy frowned a little at the information. As annoying as the talking cat could be, she was really missing the little guy. They’d been friends and roommates for the past three years that Lucy had been in the guild, and the cat’s presence in her life was something she had gotten used to. Recently though, Happy had started tacking along on their newest member’s quests -Lucy assumed that it had to do with the female cat that was always glued to Wendy’s side. Not that Lucy could blame the cat for his interest -heavens knew that Lucy would have ditched Happy in a heartbeat for the chance to go on adventures with a hot dude.

And maybe it was better that Happy wasn’t around just yet, since it gave Natsu the time to grow used to his new environment without the added stress factor of having to share his home and Lucy’s attention right away.

Or he would grow used to it being just the two of them and the addition of Happy would bring a disaster.

“Do you happen to know where Levy is? I could use some help researching dragons.”

“Oh yes. She had a fight with Gajeel this morning and she stormed out. Said she had a headache and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.” Lucy wondered what Gajeel had done that was bad enough to drive Levy out of the guild library for a full day.

The Celestial mage slumped in her seat a little. She didn’t wan’t to bother Levy with this if she was still pissed over the dragon slayer. Of course she could do the research on her own, but Levy would speed up the process considerably. And Lucy worried that Natsu would grow bored if all her focus was solely on the research, and that he would end up destroying the books. Levy would -understandably- murder them if that happened.

“When she shows up, could you tell her about Natsu and that I need help researching dragons?”

At Mira’s agreement, Lucy said her goodbyes, scooped up the still passed out dragon and headed for the door. While she usually liked to hang around the guild, it seemed best to give Natsu time to grow used to all this. Sticking to short, food filled visits at first so that he would associate the place with good things (those being food and attention from Lucy), before starting to introduce him to the other members of Fairy Tail.

She was just about to reach the doors when someone slammed themselves right into her back, knocking Natsu out of her arms and onto the floor. He was quick to pounce back to his feet, angry eyes and hisses directed at the person pressed to her back.

So much for nice and calm introductions.

“Lucy! You gotta help me! It’s Erza, she’s gonna ki-” Gray stopped his fear filled rambling as soon as he noticed the growling creature on the floor. “Shit! The fuck is that? Lucy get back!” He yanked her behind himself and got ready to use his maker magic.

Before Lucy had time to tell Gray to back down, or to calm Natsu, the dragon had already launched himself at the ice wizard. She had to scramble to get out the way, when Gray took instinctive steps back to avoid the attack.

“No!” She watched in horror as Gray swung a bat made of ice, hitting Natsu with a sickening thud and sending the tiny dragon flying across the air. Natsu didn’t seem injured though, he flapped open his wings in order to stop his momentum.

For a moment he hung in the air, eyes flicking between Lucy and Gray. She took a careful step forward, holding her hands out in a calming manner. “It’s okay, Natsu. Gray didn’t mean to-”.

She didn’t get to the end of the sentence before Gray reached his arm out to stop her from going too close. After that, it was no surprise to Lucy that Natsu dove towards Gray again. He threw up his arms, making an icy shield to hide behind. Natsu managed to stop just before hitting the obstacle while also starting to breath fire towards the shield.

Lucy stared in alarm, uncertain on what she should do. It was doubtful that either of them would listen to her now, and stepping between them seemed like a good way to get hurt. Before she could waste any more time, a new voice broke in.

“Gray! What do you think you’re doing?” Lucy’s eyes snapped towards Erza, who was looming behind them, looking as intimidating as ever -even with strawberry cake smeared across her shirt. Both Gray and Natsu stopped what they were doing, their attention drawn towards Erza. “If you think that just because you’re fighting a dragon, I’m going to forget about you knocking over my cake, you are mistaken.”

Oh, poor Gray.

“N-now, hold on...” The ice-make wizard had gone pale and was now trying to inch his way towards the doors, remnants of the shield melting on the ground and Natsu completely forgotten. “I-I didn’t mean to do that, it was an accident.”

Erza grabbed Gray by the labels before he could make a run for it, and hauled him up. “You didn’t even apologize!” She shook her head in disappointment. “Honestly, I thought you were raised better. But it seems I need to teach you some more manners.”

Lucy watched with mild worry for her friend, as Erza dragged the petrified Gray away. The guildhall had gone completely silent, all the occupants having been caught up in the entertainment of the past few minute.

Natsu was still hovering in the air looking baffled, when Lucy snatched him back into her arms. “Well, we’re going now!” she shouted over her shoulder as she rushed outside. Natsu had started to struggle in her arms, intending to go back and finish the fight.

“No, Natsu. Gray is a friend. What happened was an accident and you two shouldn’t fight.” Lucy tried her best to get him to settle, but the dragon tried to wriggle his way to freedom until they were back in the safety of her apartment where he just sulked and glared at her. He huffed at her words and flew away from her.

“Do not give me that look. I’m not letting you hurt my friends.” Lucy collapsed onto her couch and motioned the dragon to fly closer. “Or them you. Come here, I need to see that you aren’t injured.”

Not that she would know what to do with an injured dragon. Stars, Porlyusica would scowl her all the way to hell, if she brought a dragon in for treatment.

Truly, there had better be some kind of ‘how to’ -guide for taking care of a dragon.

Natsu took his time before deciding to land in her lap in order to let her inspect him. She was very gentle about touching along his sides and pushing carefully against his stomach, worried that the hit Gray had give had caused some serious damage. She was relieved to find that Natsu didn’t seem bothered by her poking, meaning that there was probably no broken ribs or internal bleeding.

“Oh, thank the Stars. We don’t need to risk our lives visiting Porlyusica,” Lucy breathed out and started to run her fingertips lightly over the laid-down spikes along his spine. Natsu seemed to enjoy the petting, judging by the way he was stretching his back into her touch. If he was a cat, Lucy was sure he would be purring.

Eventually, he tipped over to lay on his back like a dog wanting to get it’s belly scratched. Lucy laughed a little before doing just that. Underneath his chin seemed to be the sweet-spot for scratching.

Marveling over how warm he was, she smoothed over the scales, taking note of the fact that the scales were far softer on his stomach than they were on the other parts of his body.

She also found that he had a single white scale just under his jaw, which stood out against the deep red that otherwise covered him. How odd.

When she tried to stop the stroking, he wrapped his tail around her wrist to drag her hand back. He was far too adorable and she couldn’t make herself stop the petting just yet.

Soon enough, Natsu was relaxed and snoring, the stress from earlier forgotten. Once she was sure he was sleeping deeply enough, Lucy risked summoning Virgo as quietly as she could.

“Good eve-” Lucy cut off the spirits greeting with a frantic shushing and pointing towards the sleeping dragon. She didn’t even want to think how he would react waking up to stranger in the room.

Though Virgo, the masochist that she was, would probably thank Natsu for the mauling.

“Hi, I’m sorry. I kind of need your help right now, but please try not to wake Natsu.” Lucy looked at the spirit pleadingly.

“Of course, Princess. What would you need me to do?” Virgo whispered back, already looking eager to receive a task.

“Could you go grocery shopping for me, please?” Lucy cringed a little. She felt awful about asking things like this from her spirits, but taking Natsu to the market might be too much after what happened earlier. “I would do it myself, but Natsu has already started one fight today.”

“I would be happy to.” Virgo’s eyes were shining with happiness, which eased Lucy’s guilt a little. “Would you also need assistance with the dragon?”

“No, thank you. Natsu is a new addition to our family -he just needs some time to adjust before meeting you all.” She scratched his chin with a little more pressure, smiling at the way one of his back legs (paws?) kicked in response.

“Alright. Do you want me to inform the other spirits of his presence?”

“If you don’t mind. He might be a little protective of me, but I would like him to meet you all. He’s going to tack along to my missions and it would be good if he had no problems with you guys popping in.” Lucy looked up quickly, remembering what had started all this. “Could you also pass along my apologies to Aries for the delay with summoning her? I have been dying to meet her and talk about maybe making a contract, but I got Natsu at the same time I got her key, so things have been kinda hectic.”

Virgo smiled softly and nodded. “I’ll be sure to tell her. We are all very excited about you finding her key. Loki has already made a list of ways he can show you his gratitude.”

Lucy was still mulling over the threat that was Loki’s gratitude, while Virgo collected Lucy’s wallet and left the apartment.

Natsu was a little like a cat, in the sense that once he decided to fall asleep on her lap, she couldn’t find in in her heart to move him. So instead, she spend a good hour sitting on her couch petting him. Virgo had returned, filled her kitchen and left for the spirit realm long before the dragon finally decided to get up.

The rest of the day was spent cooking for tomorrow (Natsu seemed puzzled by the suddenly full fridge) and cleaning the apartment, with Natsu sticking close by the whole time.

When the sun started to go down, Lucy gave Natsu a rundown of tomorrows plan. He was not happy at the prospect of having to meet Lucy’s spirits. Which meant that Lucy felt the need to give him a good long lecture on how biting your friends was a bad thing that we don’t do, before letting him crawl into bed with her. He, of course, spend a considerable amount of time traveling under the covers and refusing to settle down. Lucy suspected that it was a revenge for the lecture. She was already pretty annoyed by the time he finally decided to curl himself into the crook of her shoulder.

As if sensing her less-than-good mood, he poked her cheek with his snout a few times, instantly melting her.

“Alright, alright,” laughing a little, she gently nudged his head away from her cheek. “Just go to sleep already.”

After one more nuzzle to her chin, he laid down, his head resting over her neck. Lucy couldn’t help but feel a little happy as she fell asleep.

#fairy tail #Nalu #nalu fanfic #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #My writing #the trouble of owning a dragon

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be-dazzled · 4 years

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Day 2: Alluring Fairy Tail World Pairing: Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser Series: Fairy Tail Rating: M for sensitive language and content

It was a long road ahead and Gray’s beaten body couldn’t wait to jump into his bed for a much deserving rest. A day or two would do.

The ice-make mage got tired of listening to flame-brain’s whining two towns ago. Flame brain had the audacity to complain when he was the reason of the three day delay. Okay, okay maybe not just him. There was Erza and Gray to blame too. Lucy was crying all the way down to Magnolia. Something about the reward cut and her apartment rent. Gray was just thankful Natsu shut his mouth up before he fed him Erza’s luggage, wagon included, to keep him quiet. That would make them move faster.

Team Natsu arrived at the foot of Magnolia. Gray sighed in contentment. Finally, some good news. Gray couldn’t wait to reach his apartment.

“Oi! Isn’t this Juvia?”

Gray’s heart jumped a little hearing the name – her name. He immediately searched for her vibrant blue hair in the crowd, only to find a cherry one standing next to a newsstand, holding what appeared to be a magazine in his hand. Gray scoffed inwardly. Since when did that flame brain start reading or even become interested? Then, he suddenly remembered something. Gray took a second look at that little magazine flame-brain was holding. To Gray’s horror, Sorcerer’s Weekly’s latest issue was now all over Magnolia. The vibrant blue hair he was searching for was on that issue.

“What? Let me see.”

Erza walked up to the newsstand, leaving her wagon behind. Team Natsu followed, minus Gray, and gathered around the stand to get a hold of the copy and confirm the news themselves.

“Wow, it really is her.”

Once Gray heard the confirmation from Lucy, he dashed to the newsstand and snatched the copy from Natsu’s hands.

“Hey!” complained the Fire Dragon Slayer. But they fell on deaf ears.

Gray perused the magazine, running his troubled eyes from top to bottom and then back up. His midnight eyes turned green, figuratively, as he confirmed that it was really Juvia, his Juvia, on the cover and she was too provocative – with her point finger resting on her lips, telling the viewer to keep quiet. And her legs? Her legs were wide open, leaving so little in the imagination.

Gray’s blood boiled in anger and then something else.

And what was up with that caption? Some like it hot? A picture of fire-eating Natsu rolled by his head, causing one eye to twitch. Juvia liked it cold because she loved a certain ice-mage, right?

“Are you gonna buy this issue, young man?”

Blood rushed to Gray’s head. Why would he buy a magazine when he had the real thing back at the guild? But Gray composed himself and played it cool.

“No, thanks.” He returned the magazine on the stack and rejoined his group.

“What kind of magazine objectifies women like that?” complained Gray.

Which earned a raise of a brow from ‘some-like-it-hot’ Natsu.

“You didn’t say that with Mira-chan’s cover last week.” reminded Natsu.

Gray froze at the sudden guilt that hit him. He had no qualms staring at Mirajane in a green bathing suit enjoying the beach. So, why was he acting like he was on a higher moral ground? Gray had to think of some excuse and quick before Natsu called him out of his bullshit.

“T-that’s d-different!”

“Huh?” Natsu walked past him, oblivious of the fact that his question turned the ice-mage make tomato red. “But I don’t see any difference.” Said Natsu, which he meant finding no difference in Mira and Juvia’s pose in their respective magazine covers.

Lucy the Celestial mage, feeling a little playful, chimed in. “Why are they different, Gray?” She didn’t stay behind to know.

“I-i-it’s just different, alright!”

Lucy shook her head. “How many years now and he is still denying it. Poor Juvia.” said Lucy to herself, chuckling.

When his team was in a good distance, Gray ran back to the newsstand. He collected all the jewels he received from the job and handed them all to the old woman owner. Then, he grabbed all the copies of Sorcerer Weekly and left the owner dumbfounded.

Gray walked around Magnolia hogging all copies of Juvia’s Sorcerer Weekly issue: some peeking out of his cross-body bag, while the rest he carried. He smiled at himself, proud of coming up with the best idea – by buying all the copies of Sorcerer Weekly, no one would see her Juvia in such daring pose. Gray felt triumphant.

Until he passed by another newsstand which actually hanged a number of magazines for display. Gray checked inside his pocket and came up empty.

Now what should he do?

…

Gray dropped on his bed like a hot potato, sprawled over the mattress like a spread eagle. Damn, he was exhausted. He was tired running around Magnolia all afternoon to do random jobs and earn jewels to buy all of Sorcerer Weekly’s Juvia Lockser issue. Now he had a hundred of those issue stacked beside his bed.

He failed to realize that Sorcerer Weekly wasn’t sold in Magnolia alone. (But we will give it to Gray for trying.)

He raised the well-wrapped gift he found earlier at his coffee table and inspected it. The ribbon was blue and neatly placed in the middle. He recognized the craftsmanship to be Juvia’s. She was good in that kind of stuff -making pretty things. Gray, on the other hand, could not make anything that can pass as pretty even if his life depended on it. Except when using his ice-make, that’s his wheelhouse.

Gray ripped the white wrapper to see what was inside.

Only to find the 101th Sorcerer Weekly issue he was about to add to his collection. But this one had a sticky note on it.

‘IS GRAY-SAMA PROUD OF JUVIA?’

“Baka.” The cute handwriting pulled the corners of Gray’s mouth into soft smile. She even put a cute little heart at the end. “Of course, I’m always proud of you.” said Gray, talking to the seductively shushing Juvia on the cover. “But I’m not too happy about this position…”

Gray’s thick brows furrowed. The more he stared at the cover the more he regretted it. He was feeling a nosebleed coming so he better just flip the page and find where the actual interview was printed. He needed to see words instead of the picture of Juvia’s leg parted... he needed to stop. But he was in his room, alone. So, it wouldn’t be so wrong if he just took a peek… no. But now one’s gonna see him if he… no. It wouldn’t be right. Still, he was a young, hot-blooded man and it’s the healthy thing to do – no, no, no!

He flipped the pages frantically, trying to fight the temptation to linger on that cover, and stopped only when a page piqued his interest. It was a half-page photo of Juvia. His eyes softened, lingering on Juvia’s photo. He knew Juvia wasn’t a vain woman. She hated getting her photo taken or talking about herself. So it surprised him that in this particularly issue, Juvia indulged the readers.

Juvia’s photo came out well – perfect even – but it was nothing compared to the real thing. It would do, for now. Looking at the colored portrait, Gray allowed himself to admit that he missed Juvia. That woman got under his skin and now she became a permanent fixture in Gray’s life, even to the point that sometimes he’d feel a sudden sense of emptiness when he was away from her for too long.

Gray’s dark longing eyes were not the only ones that traced Juvia’s features. His finger followed his gaze: from the crinkle of her blue eyes, pink-powdered cheeks down to her disarming smile.

Nothing was more alluring than a woman’s beautiful smile.

Gray heard that somewhere and he couldn’t agree more. Of all of Juvia’s sexy features: her breasts, her waist, her legs, the sexiest curve on Juvia’s body was her smile.

Gray never told a soul about it but that smile, that curve of her lips that was full of love when she talked about him, when she said his name, that smile that made his stomach flutter. It was the last thing he thought about at night and the first thing he saw in his mind in the morning.

Gray turned to the next page and read the words written on it. Just as he expected, instead of sharing about herself, Juvia talked about Gray the whole time. He let out a sigh of satisfaction. He cushioned one arm behind his head while the other held the magazine as he read, all smiles and all satisfied.

He didn’t have to worry anymore. Those lowly bastards may see Juvia in that provocative position but the world would know, when they read the actual article, that Juvia Lockser belonged to him – Gray Fullbuster. She was his.

They could look but only Gray was allowed to touch.

“That’s my Juvia.” He smiled to himself; that full grin grew wider and wider as he read all the nice things Juvia could say about him.

...

Writer’s Corner: So what’s up? We are on Day 2 of Gruvia Week. FT World isn’t really my element but I hope you guys enjoy this little drabble I made for GW.

Also, you guys know which cover I was referring to, right? I’m sure Gray appreciated that and did not appreciate everyone looking at that. lol.

See you next entry: Day 3! #GruviaForever

#gray x juvia #gruvia #gruvia week #gruvia week 2020 #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #be-dazzled #fairytail #fairy tail

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indipindy16 · 4 years

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*cracks knuckles* time to bust out my ao3 bookmarks my dudes.

a quick heads up, these are ALL shinsou-centric. he’s my favourite character, and this shouldn’t be a shock if you’ve seen my blog, but just so you know. everything is shinsou.

disclaimer: i tend to bookmark fics only after they’re complete, so the incomplete ones on this list you probably won’t find in my bookmarks.

let’s start off a couple that i don’t feel have the attention they deserve:

1. Multi-Track Drifting: incomplete, currently ~30k, updates regularly

Two months into Izuku Midoriya's training to receive One For All, tragedy strikes the nation, the Symbol of Peace is dead. Midoriya wasn't there, at his mentor's side when he fell, and now it's feared that One For All is lost forever. Except someone was there with the hero in his final moments, and they have no idea what they have gained.

2. The World Ended Before it Could Begin (Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds): incomplete, currently ~36k, updates regularly

It was supposed to be Izuku. He had all the knowledge and the plans he needed to make this work. But circumstances change and now Hitoshi is thirteen again and trying to stop the world from ending while also pretending that he isn't a traumatized adult trapped in a child's body.

3. The No-Family Club: complete, ~50k

When Aizawa steps in to provide Shouto with an alternative, he learns some people get to choose their family. That a family can be a man, a girl, and a couple of teenagers living in an old house full of cats, but it can also be much, much more.

Or: Shouto, Shinsou, and a hot summer just bursting with possibilities.

4. Cotyledon: incomplete, currently ~60k, updates regularly (i think the author’s actually written the whole fic already and it just posting the chapters in increments)

It's his second year at UA, and Shinsou is finally, finally, transferring to the hero course. He's ready, he thinks, or hopes— either way, it doesn't matter, 'cause he's going to show everyone he's got what it takes. And it also doesn't matter that the longer he spends in the program, the more he can't stop thinking about a certain freckled wannabe-friend, and the more he's noticing that a certain stoic classmate is paying him a lot more attention than he'd like.

Whatever. Irrelevant. He's here to be a hero, not make friends. Even if they would be the first ones he's made in...ever. But it's his second year, and he's going to make it count by focusing on what's important.

His name is Shinsou Hitoshi, and he's going to be a goddamn hero.

5. Tsune (I'm Always Here For You): incomplete, currently ~23k, updates regularly

I'm always here for you, even if nobody is here for me.

Midoriya Izuku is a normal boy. He has a Quirk and everything! But a seemingly weak Quirk isn't enough. Being kind isn't enough. And so Izuku suffers, even as he refuses to let go of his goals. He will be a hero, no matter what it takes, because he can be. Despite all the voices telling him he can't, he can. Izuku just has to prove it.

" Midoriya Izuku, four years old and already an anxious child, is waiting for his Quirk to come in. He’s been waiting for eight days, four hours and… thirty seven minutes. -- And then it came. It didn’t arrive in a flurry of sparks that stained the air with a sweet smell like Kaachan’s, or tear through a worksheet halfway through class like Shibata’s extendable fingers, or mean that he comes into school one day with big dragon wings like Tsubasa. Instead, Izuku wakes up on the twelfth day, and he isn’t human. "

TLDR - Izuku has a kitsune Quirk and is determined to become an underground hero - he will makes lots of friends and a Dadzawa along the way, although things are never quite easy.

now here’s some gems which, if you read a lot of shinsou-centric fic, you will have read before. if you haven’t, you really ought to.

1. You Want It Darker: complete, ~530k

Aizawa hunts a killer and takes on a new student. He gets more than he bargained for from both.

2. komorebi: incomplete, currently ~90k, updates fairly regularly

The change can't be immediate, or it’ll seem forced. It has to take time, in order to be realistic. He knows that.

He’ll need to seem like a villain. But he’ll be a hero.

And for that, Hitoshi thinks he’d do just about anything.

Or,

Someone's selling UA's secrets, and Shinsou Hitoshi definitely doesn't have anything to prove.

3. The Last Resort: incomplete, ~172k, updates fairly regularly

“Mommy? Where are we going?” Shinsou asks as he was strapped into his car seat. He looked up quizzically at his mom as she gave him a backpack stuffed with clothes and his favorite plush cat. “We are just going to a trip to see some of mommy’s friends okay?” She replied, giving him a small sad smile Or Shinsou gets sold off to villains when hes a kid. They rent him his quirk out to other villains for a profit.

4. know who you are: complete, oneshot, ~11k

It was difficult to be an underground hero when the young Symbol of the Peace was a close friend, twenty of the top heroes in the country were former classmates and long-time friends, and the principal of UA, one of the most prestigious hero schools in the world, was your mentor.

When Shinsou was a teenager, he never imagined that one of his biggest problem as a pro hero would be that he was too famous.

(Social media fic, following Shinsou ten years post-canon.)

as a treat, a little ‘honourable mention,’ here’s a fic without shinsou at all (yet!)

BONUS: Terminal Velocity: incomplete, currently ~26k, updates regularly

Against all odds, Izuku loves heroes. It doesn’t matter that he’s spent his entire life with villains, the real kind, not just regular criminals but actual genuine villains. It doesn’t matter that no heroes have ever come to save him. It doesn’t matter that they probably wouldn’t save someone like him. Izuku still loves heroes.

He’s not blind to the irony of his situation. He has wings that cannot carry him to freedom, teeth and claws that he cannot wield against those who hurt him, and speed in the air and on foot that takes him nowhere. All he can do is manage disobedience where he can. Injure, don’t kill. If he can injure people instead of killing them, it’s something. It’s the closest Izuku will ever get to being a hero.

Until one day, on what should be a routine mission, everything changes.

that’s all folks!

#answered ask #bnha #bnha fic recs #bnha fic rec #fic rec #bnha shinsou #shinsou-centric #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinso #shinso hitoshi #bnha shinsou hitoshi #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction rec

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