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treesofgreen · 2 years

Note

I'd love to see what you're writing finished or no :)

Thank you! That's very kind. Most of it is emotionally overwrought stream of consciousness type stuff but I do have this little bit of something (a first draft but actually coherent! and not drowning in angst lol). nebulous post reunion everything is good now time frame/they looted a piano/if you guessed Ed and Izzy composed Heart and Soul in the 1600s you would be correct.

The pianoforte is beautiful, sleek whorls in the wood, impossibly modern, too big for the captain’s quarters and being wrangled into a space beneath the windows in the rec room by Wee John and Fang.

It’s beautiful, Stede thinks, excited at the possibility to have the crew learn music along with their letters, excited to learn more himself, to have Edward teach him. He’s always tried but has no real talent or ear for music, plunking uselessly and clumsily at the keys. Unteachable a tutor had declared, accusing him of not practicing even though he did his minutes dutifully. He’d thought his desire to learn had died in that moment but years and years later he had felt it flicker when he listened to Alma taking her lessons. He’d thought of asking Mary to teach him too, but never did. He thought of asking Alma to show him what she’d learned, but never did.

He thought of asking Edward, after he’d seen him play at the party, but never did.

“Yes, there, that’s lovely,” Stede says. “A little to the left.”

When it’s where he wants it, below the soft light coming from the windows, he steps back and crosses his arms, pleased and satisfied. “Perfect,” he says, and Edward grins at him. Frenchie comes in carrying the bench upright in his arms, hugging the length of it to his body like a person.

Edward leans over and gives Stede a kiss, then practically bounces over to the piano. He runs his hand over the length of the keys, back and forth, the sound filling the room. It’s lusher, richer than any piano Stede has heard and fills the room with warmth. Ed strikes a few more keys, playing scales, then stops and plays a slow melody just with his right hand. dun dun dun dundun dun dun. Sits down and does it again, just the few notes, a little softer and slower than before.

“That’s pretty,” Stede says. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Ed says. “It’s something Izzy and I made up.” He half turns on the bench to look over at Izzy, who’s sitting next to Lucius looking through the books, his mouth a thin line and his eyes stuck firmly to the page. He plays the notes again and if Izzy’s eyes could bore a hole in the paper they would. “Remember, Iz?”

Stede and Lucius and Frenchie are looking at Izzy now too, and Izzy makes a low, vague noise of confirmation in his throat. He keeps his eyes on the page.

“Oh?” Stede says. He feels a small pang of jealousy. “You play too, Izzy? That’s wonderful.”

Izzy makes the sound again. “Edward’s a much better player.”

“Yeah,” Ed says, running the scales again, his fingers loose over the keys. “But you’re a much better singer.”

“You can sing?” Lucius says, surprised. Frenchie grins.

“I can sing,” Izzy says, deeply tired and a little red in the ears as he glares at Edward. “I choose not to.”

“Then play with me,” Ed cajoles. He plays those notes again. Hesitates. Says “izzy” in the way he does when he means “please.”

“It’s been too long,” Izzy says, but he puts his book and paper down and moves over to the bench. He looks at Stede warily for a moment and Stede nods, smiles through another pang of jealousy.

Izzy sighs. Ed grins and scoots over enough that Izzy can sit beside him. Izzy removes his glove and then runs his bare hands silently over the keys, skin to ivory, playing invisible notes for a moment as Frenchie and Stede crowd nearer the piano.

Ed starts with those notes again, and Izzy comes in right after with his left hand, a little higher, plinking. Ed grins enormously and it lasts only a minute but they play together seamlessly. Ed bumps Izzy’s shoulder with his and Izzy shoulders him back, their eyes focused on their own hands, on each other’s hands, their movements as sure as the tide.

Izzy’s part is finished first and he lets his fingers rest on the keys, his notes fading away as Edward finishes with a quiet flourish. Stede and Frenchie clap and Lucius calls out a “bravo” from where he’s sketching in his book.

“Knew you’d remember,” Ed says, slinging his arm around Izzy’s shoulder, and Izzy smiles, almost, and then Ed leans over and presses a kiss right to his temple and Izzy’s eyes close, his cheeks flushed. He tries to stand up, squirming against Ed’s hold but Ed holds him close for just a moment more before he lets him go.

“I have to make sure they’re finished up there,” Izzy grumbles. He puts his glove back on. He doesn’t sound angry. “If you won’t be needing me for anything else, captains?”

“No, no, you can go,” Stede says. He’d expected to feel more jealous, now, but he doesn’t. He only feels happy for Edward, for Izzy.

“Iz,” Ed says, in the way he does when he means thank you.

Izzy’s lips quirk as he dips his head and takes his leave.

Ed smiles, reaching out to tug on Stede’s coat and pull him down next to him and Stede winds his hand around Edward’s, letting him move his fingers softly along the keys.

#i literally have 3 dozen ofmd stories that will probably never be finished :/#ofmd #izzy hands #edward teach #stede bonnet #i hate sharing stuff that isn't polished please be nice #my fic #i probably will use this idea in a different fic #maybe #blackbonnet #blackhands #our flag means death #yes i gave stede my piano lesson trauma #steddyhands

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cupcakemolotov · 4 years

Text

Universal Language

It has been a rough couple of weeks, and I know some people have been needing some fluff, so here we go. No monsters just yet, but I am working on it! And I will probably change this title, but I cannot brain.

The flat was dark as Caroline stood in the kitchen, lip tucked tightly between her teeth. A quick glance out of a window told her what she already knew. The rain that had hit as they’d staggered into Klaus’ super fancy building was still going strongly outside, leaving the city hazy and cold. Tugging the edge of her borrowed shirt a little firmer over her knuckles, she debated her options.

She was really starting to regret leaving the bed, but she really needed a few minutes to herself to sort some of her mental floundering. She hadn’t been sure if she could keep her hands to herself if she’d stayed cuddled up to Klaus, and if he had woken up and looked at her like he had last night, she was going to end up distracted real fast. Pressing her fingers to her burning cheeks, she took a centering breath and pushed aside the hotter memories from last night.

Though they were really, really good.

She’d flown into London three days ago to wrangle some press for Enzo, her rockstar best friend determined to keep her life interesting. Three tours, two high profile relationships before he’d gotten around to realizing Bonnie was perfect for him, and a lifetime of coordinating his band practices and wrangling shows until he had hit it big time had made her very good at her job. But even she had her limits. But since he’d just brought home his first Grammy and also recently celebrated his first wedding anniversary, she’d give him some slack. Not much, but a little. And when he’d invited her to a small party he was throwing to celebrate both events, she’d shown up.

And so had Klaus.

The Mikaelson’s were old tour friends. They’d been the first group to really take a chance on Enzo as an opening act, and he and Kol had hit it off. They’d stayed in touch for bar crawls and club hoping, and other activities Caroline was pretty certain would give any PR worth their salt early wrinkles. She and Elijah had become professional acquaintances very quickly, and she’d always liked that he’d taken her seriously, even fresh faced and the ink on her degree still wet. Where Elijah understood the inner workings of the press far better than anyone she had ever bet, Caroline brought a social media game that was rock solid.

These days, Elijah even wrote the note on her holiday cards himself.

But Klaus. There had always been something about the lead singer and guitarist that left awareness skating down the back of her spine like a touch. He’d made a move early on, with wicked dimples and curlings lips, and hadn’t so much as blinked when she'd turned him down. She wouldn’t lie to herself and say that she hadn’t sometimes regretted that decision those long hours on the road watching him perform, but she had goals and Enzo had dreams. She hadn’t been willing to let even a hint of distraction slow them down. Even if the distraction tended to remove his shirt part way through a performance, and was built.

But last night he’d shown up at that hole in the wall pub, and she’d found herself wondering. All the things she had ignored as she built her career, all the possibilities that she’d let go because her ten year plan had so little wiggle room for any of them. This morning she had a lot less to wonder about and so much more to ponder. The way he’d looked at her when she’d asked him to take her to his home, how good it’d felt and how ridiculously easy he had read her cues. She’d have loved to get her hands on a pad or pen so she could put her thoughts in order, a list right now would really be helpful, but she didn’t want to risk waking Klaus by rummaging through his things.

Well, rummaging anymore than she already had.

Her dress had been crumpled at the foot of the bed, but she hadn’t really wanted to put it back on. Sneaking into Klaus’ closet to find something warm to pull on when she couldn’t locate a robe had been an exercise in ninja-stealth she was surprised had worked. He had made it clear last night that she was welcome to stay, and the idea of leaving had been momentarily tempting, but she was no longer in her early twenties and she’d known Klaus for over a decade.

If she couldn’t stick around with breakfast with him post-sex, she was probably never going to manage it with anyone. Plus, it was raining. There was no way she was walk of shaming it back to her hotel in the rain.

Caroline bounced on her toes for a moment to warm up and tried to decide what her most pressing issue was. What she needed right then was a cup of coffee. However, being friends with Enzo had taught her that finding a normal, American coffee pot in this city would be near impossible. Huffing at the thought, she snuck another glance at the darkened bedroom.

Klaus probably wouldn’t sleep much longer, he was an annoyingly early riser most of the time, and she really needed to be firing on all cylinders when he made an appearance. Shaking her head, she spun on her heel and determinedly, quietly, started snooping through his cabinets. He had spent enough time with her to know that she was a snooper. He’d even lent a helping hand once or twice when she was getting even with Enzo and Kol, so it would hardly be a surprise if he caught her. And she really wanted to know what a rockstar who wasn’t Enzo kept in his kitchen.

What she found was a surprising amount of high end pots and pans, a few gadgets she didn’t recognize straight off the bat, an impressive collection of wooden spoons, and most importantly, a small french press. It was the exact same one that Enzo kept for her, and she punched the air in silent victory. She’d already spotted his electric kettle, so it wouldn't take long to put together a cup. Rising up on her toes, she was about to open another cabinet, surely if he had a french press he had coffee, when a sleep rough voice interrupted her.

“Two cabinets over, love. Top shelf.”

She slammed down on her heels, hand pressed against her chest and turned to toss a glare. “Geez, scare me to death.”

Caroline had to catch her tongue between her teeth, hard, as the sight of him. He’d clearly just rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants, and they were slung low on his hips. His hair stood up in all directions, and she was pretty sure the bruise just beneath on his collarbones was a lingering reminder of her teeth. His smile was slow, dimples cutting deep as he wandered closer.

“I was wondering where that shirt went.” Klaus’ smile deepened, gaze tracking down her body, the rest of of the clothing she had borrowed. “Comfortable?”

She shrugged, ignoring the way she could feel her cheeks heat. “It's cold.”

“You could have stayed in bed,” he pointed out as he obligingly stopped by the controls for the air, turning the heat up. “It was plenty warm.”

She really, really could have but there was no point in inflating his ego more than it needed to be. “And listen to you snore?”

He poked at a particularly ticklish spot on her ribs as he moved by her to reach for the coffee grounds and Caroline jerked away from him with a glare, but accepted the bag as Klaus started the kettle. It was weirdly domestic and easy, and she had no idea what to say to any of it. Thankfully Klaus didn’t seem to be suffering from the same internal struggle and opened the fridge, hand running through his hair.

“I wasn’t expecting company, but I have eggs if you’re hungry. I’m not sure we can trust the bacon.” His eyes flickered to her, brow arching. “Delivery is also an option.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose. “No one wants soggy pancakes, Klaus. I’ll take the eggs, maybe toast if your bread isn’t molding. Also, I can’t believe you cook.”

“Self-preservation,” he said easily. “After a tour, the last thing I wanted was more takeaway. It's not always good, mind you, but at least I don’t have to deal with people.”

She thought about that as he moved around, seemingly completely at ease with her. Klaus didn’t let people in his personal space, was very private when he wasn’t on tour, and she was standing in his kitchen wearing his clothes after she’d spent the night in his bed. Brows tucked together, she mechanically set about making her coffee, turning over everything that had and hadn’t been said in the last twelve hours. The stay, he’d murmured against the nape of her neck after they’d showered and staggered back into bed.

She kept her voice carefully casual. “We both know how much you love people.”

He shot her a look, but his lips twitched. “Should you really be taking a jab at the person making you breakfast?’

“You like it,” she dismissed, finally pouring herself a mug of coffee. She took the first sip with a little sigh of relief and leaned against the counter. “Need help with anything?”

“I like a great many things about you, Caroline,” Klaus murmured as he reached for the half of a loaf on his counter. “The bread should be okay. I pulled it out of the freezer yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” She repeated as she checked the bread before moving closer to the toaster, dodging his earlier comment. “Kol mentioned you guys had been traveling, but he wasn’t exactly coherent when he was giving me details. I think Enzo had goaded him into something like eight shots at that point. I’m not entirely sure how he was standing.”

Klaus made a low noise of amusement as he cracked eggs into the frying pan. “How do you want your eggs, love?”

“I’m not that picky,” she assured him. “Well, about eggs. As long as it's not soft boiled, I’ll eat it, though it’d have been better if there was cheese.”

“I’ll make a note for my assistant,” he said casually. “I’m sure she can find something to meet your standards.”

Caroline glanced at him to find him watching her, eyes intent. “Planning on me sticking around?”

“I did ask you to stay,” he pointed out, gaze leaving her face only long enough to flip the contents of the pan. “That hasn’t changed just because its morning. You’ve never been shy about telling me where we stand, Caroline, and I hope that remains the same as well.”

She flushed, momentarily ignoring the toast popping up. “I didn’t have time for a distraction back then.”

“I remember,” Klaus said lightly. “I believe your exact words were ‘you’re pretty, but not worth Enzo’s career.’”

Caroline scowled when his gaze dragged along her pink face. “You took it well.”

He tipped his head and opened a cabinet, pulling out a plate and sliding the fried eggs onto it. “It helped my bruised ego when you shut everyone else down with even less consideration for their feelings.”

“Some of them were decidedly less charming than you,” she pointed out as she finally reached for the toast, dropping it onto the plate he offered her before going back to cooking his breakfast.

“So you think I’m charming and pretty,” he murmured. “That’s two points in my favor, but not enough that you’d have let last night happen ten years ago.”

“No,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have.”

“Eat,” he said as she continued to watch him. “You might not be picky, cheese non-withstanding, but cold eggs are terrible.”

Laughing a little, she hosted herself onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen island and wolfed down her food. Last night had been quite the workout, and she was definitely hungry. Klaus didn’t rush through his food, but he was quick, and by the time she was pouring the last of the coffee into her mug, he was loading the dishwasher. He shut it with his hip, quickly washing his hands, before he turned and faced her.

“Now,” he said, stepping close to where she was sitting and reaching up to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Before we settle in for the rest of the weekend, there are a few things you should know.”

“Arrogant,” she muttered, even as she gave in to the need and pressed her palm against the heat of his side.

Klaus looked entirely unbothered by her comment. “The traveling that Kol mentioned? We’ve been scoping out real estate in New York City.”

“We,” she repeated carefully, heart thumping into her throat.

“We. Marcel has been pitching that as a band we start spending more of our time stateside in between tours and recording, and we’ve agreed to it on a trial basis.” His hand came up and he brushed his thumb across the angle of her cheekbone. “I have heard from Enzo and Kol that you might be considering a similar split lifestyle.”

Licking her lips, she nodded and felt a jolt of something warm that he had been asking about her. “It's one of the reasons for this visit.”

His smile was slow and pleased, and his gaze dipped to trace the curves of her mouth. “I’d like to take you dinner.”

Caroline blinked. “Like a date?”

“Exactly like a date. Assuming of course, that I’m still pretty and that Enzo’s career is no longer more important,” he teased lightly, but his eyes were serious. “I plan on being quite the distraction, Caroline.”

She pushed to her feet and tried very hard not to give in and feel up the expanse of bare skin on display. “You’re still really pretty, and I’d love to go to dinner.”

His hand slid to the small of her back and he pulled her closer. “But not tonight.”

“No?”

He shook his head, fingers tugging lightly on the edge of her borrowed shirt. “I have plans for the weekend. And they do not involve us leaving the apartment.”

“Does these plans involve a spare toothbrush?” Caroline asked. “I can probably survive the dreaded takeaway, but there will be no kissing if I don’t get a toothbrush.”

“I imagine I have a spare or two floating around,” Klaus murmured. “I can probably even be talked into making a quick run to your hotel to pick up a few things if you really want them, though clothes are optional and you are welcome to mind. As for food, if you want something more than cheese, you should speak up soon.”

Laughing, she finally gave in and looped her arms around his shoulders. “So magnanimous.”

“For you?” He smiled against her temple for a moment before he stepped back and caught her hand with his, bringing it to the heat of his mouth. Laughing, she untangled herself, and he pulled her with him towards the bedroom. “I’m sure I can find it in me. Let’s find that toothbrush, love, and you can make whatever lists you want, and then you’re mine for the rest of the day.”

Caroline’s smile widened behind him, teeth digging into her lip to stop a giddy laugh. A man with a plan who didn’t mind that she was going to make lists, who was very shortly going to be living much closer to her than she had ever thought possible. Klaus was going to make it very difficult to not fall in love with him, and that thought wasn’t nearly as scary as she’d thought it would be.

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic #klaroline drabble #fluff #morning after #mostly sfw #did i mention fluff #because there is fluff #and its AH

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jenseits-der-sterne · 4 years

Text

#thirsty-and-in-denial-Zelda

@intangiblyyourswrites‘s prompt:

The real reason Zelda initially shows such a abhorrence to Link is because she’s secretly heads-over-heels for him and refuses to show it. Her pride is on the line, after all.

Rules:

Must be set in the BotW timeline

When it’s set is up to you (e.g. Pre-Calamity or post, pre-Blades of the Yiga or post)

No chronology enforced, but I’m interested to see if we can get a somewhat coherent story out of this!

You may do however many posts/drabbles you’d like

Tag #thirsty-and-in-denial-Zelda so we can find your story!

Below is my contribution to this prompt! Timeline-wise this is set between Urbosa’s Hand and Blades of the Yiga. I hope you enjoy it!

A big thank you to @airplanned for reading the not great first draft of this, giving super helpful feedback, and helping my wrangle this into what it is now!

Shifting Sands

Word Count: 3322 Rating: T Posted on: AO3

The glare of the sun overhead is strong, but Zelda is certain that the glare she’s currently directing at him is fiercer.

How dare he?

She’d come to the Gerudo Desert to escape his constant presence, not to be dogged by him as she has been for months and months now.

To make things worse, Urbosa aided and abetted him in this! To think that Zelda considered Urbosa to be on her side when it came to her appointed knight. But no! For shame! Urbosa betrayed her yesterday: as rude an awakening as Urbosa’s fury was, it was a great deal worse to come to the understanding that Link’s presence last night on the Divine Beast was Urbosa’s own doing. The Gerudo Chief herself sent word to him. She instructed him to come and collect Zelda after she successfully evaded him for two full days.

And then this morning, Urbosa pulled Zelda aside. She leveled Zelda with a meaningful stare. Her words still ring in Zelda’s mind, “You should know, Little Bird, that I put in a good word for you with your appointed knight. Give him a chance. You never know: he may very well prove to be a good friend.” Zelda scoffed. She proceeded to ignore Urbosa for the rest of the morning until she and Link departed from Vah Naboris.

Today he insists on leading the way out of the desert, citing a heightened Yiga presence as his reasoning. But Zelda suspects another motive: perhaps he’s finally frustrated with her. Perhaps he no longer wishes to trail her, to have his gaze settle upon her as he follows in her footsteps. Good. Let him feel that way. She’s told him countless times that she does not need him to act as her escort. If he’s finally beginning to understand this, then all the better!

While walking behind him, Zelda does not study the broadness of his shoulders nor the pleasing taper from those shoulders down to his waist. Zelda does not think about how the tunic, the one she crafted with her own two hands, fits him so well. While it’s true that the Royal Blue suits him and that the cut of the tunic accentuates his form in a way that she knows many others seem to find pleasing, she herself does not find it so. Zelda of Hyrule is not so easily taken in by such things.

No. Zelda doesn’t spare a thought for them. She’s pleased with her own fortitude as she resolutely keeps the ire of her gaze focused on the back of his head.

She will concede that there is some distraction in the way that the hot desert winds pull at his hair, in how the sun causes his sandy locks to shine.

But thankfully it’s easy to shake such idle observations when he’s just so utterly frustrating. He wasn’t supposed to be here! He wasn’t supposed to know she was with Urbosa. And yet, here he is.

Zelda hopes that he can feel her glare, fixated as it is on the back of his head. Zelda hopes he can feel her anger and how it’s roiling just under the surface. Zelda hopes-

Link stops abruptly and turns to face her. Zelda, steeped in her own anger, realizing this far too late, barrels straight into him. She lets out an inelegant squeak as she collides with his chest.

The shifting sands of the desert are unkind in circumstances that require balance, and this would certainly be one of them. Link alone, as frustratingly perfect as he is, may have been able to remain standing on his own two feet. But Zelda, ever the unfortunate one out of the two, completely loses all semblance of balance. Her cursed forward momentum works against them both and with that, the two of them topple over, falling in the sand in a tangle of limbs.

There’s the inevitable jolt as Link’s back connects with the ground, and he lets out an “Oof.” Zelda ends up feeling little to no physical discomfort for he has managed to break her fall.

For a moment, neither of them can seem to move. Zelda’s heartbeat is loud in her ears as she stares at a world suddenly turned on its side. With how her cheek is squished against Link’s chest, she can both feel and hear his breathing.

And that’s not all: Zelda can feel the heat of him through his tunic. By Din’s fire... he’s so warm. Far too warm for the desert. It’s uncomfortable, and yet she finds herself frozen where she is. It doesn’t help matters that he has an arm wrapped loosely around her, his palm pressed against the small of her back. She’s feeling altogether too warm, as though she’s on the verge of overheating.

Link sucks in a sharp breath and shifts underneath her, and that’s when she realizes something: her leg is wedged firmly between his. And his own thigh is pressed between hers.

Zelda’s eyes shoot wide. Her hands scramble to find purchase on the ground and she attempts to push herself up and off of him. But once more, the accursed sand is unforgiving as it shifts beneath her palms and she slips forward and falls back down, cheek pressed once more to his chest.

It’s now that Zelda realizes that not only is he far too warm, but he’s also… Well, he’s sweaty. This is bothersome in a number of ways, but none more so than the fact that she can smell him. And that itself leads to an even more bothersome realization: she finds that his scent is not unpleasant. A traitorous part of her mind even suggests that it’s rather nice. Augh. Of course, even when he’s dirty and sweaty, the Goddess’ Chosen Hero still manages to smell good. Curse him...

But all thoughts in this regard are banished when she feels a quaking in his chest. She raises her head off of him once more, her gaze snapping up to his face to find that...he’s laughing. Goddesses, Link is actually laughing.

In other circumstances this would be fascinating, for she’s never seen Link laugh before. But any wonder is immediately dampened, for she’s certain he’s laughing at her.

The intensity of the glare she levels at him causes his soft laughter to subside. There still seems to be some amusement in his eyes when he says, “Here, allow me to help you up, Princess.”

Zelda’s ready to be rid of him, so she gives him a curt nod. He braces his hands against her upper arms and lifts just a bit and in doing so he provides her with just the sort of leverage she needs to finally free herself of both him and the desert sands.

If she scrambles off and away from him a little too quickly, he seems to have the grace to not laugh once more, thank the golden three.

Settling on the ground a safe distance from him, Zelda finally takes stock of her person. Even though her pride is a bit bruised, she appears to be uninjured. Her leggings are sandy where her legs pressed into the ground. She goes to work wiping the sand away.

Link sits up with huff. He rests his elbows on his knees as his gaze rakes over the desert. He takes in a deep breath and then lets out a sigh.

Zelda eyes him curiously. How he’s sitting right now is entirely at odds with the stiff and prim postures she’s accustomed to seeing from him. In this moment he suddenly seems to be less the silent, proper, and reserved boy she’s known for the better part of three years. At this moment he’s a bit disheveled: some of his hair is matted against his forehead, no doubt from sweat on his brow. Yet more of his hair is sticking out at odd angles, likely from how he fell down into the sand.

It’s all so strange and noteworthy that she realizes far too late that she’s staring at him. And he, seeming to sense the weight of her gaze, turns and catches her in the act. When their eyes meet, she is quick to look away, quick to make a show of redoubling her efforts to remove the sand from her person.

A few moments later, Zelda chances a furtive glance at him to see that he’s taken out his waterskin. She watches, oddly transfixed as he throws his head back and drinks out of it. She studies the long line of his neck, studies how his throat bobs as he swallows.

Suddenly, an odd flush comes over her face. And in watching him drink...she’s made keenly aware of her own thirst...

Link lowers the waterskin, his gaze focused out on the dunes, and he takes in a deep breath. That’s when he glances at her and, curses, for the second time today, he’s caught her staring.

But this time Zelda doesn’t have a chance to look away for he holds the waterskin out to her. He clears his throat, but doesn’t say anything. Yet his intentions are clear, for he’s offering her his water to drink.

A beat passes as she stares at the proffered item, and then her eyes travel up the length of his arm to scrutinize his face. While she is used to the weight of Link’s gaze, this is something different. There’s an openness in his eyes…And dare she say that there is something there akin to curiosity?

Zelda realizes she’s left him waiting for an answer when his eyebrows raise in question. She flushes anew. Ah, right, he’s offered the waterskin.

In truth, she’s parched. For a split second, she considers taking him up on the offer. But... goodness, no! To share a drinking vessel of any kind with anyone would be unrefined at best and unsanitary at worst.

A small voice offers up another thought along these lines: if she were to take it, Zelda would be putting her mouth where Link’s has been.

For reasons she cannot explain, Zelda feels her face redden yet again. She’s not precisely sure what the source of her reaction is. Perhaps it’s embarrassment, indignation, anger...?

Whatever this feeling is, it’s frustrating and so her answer to his offer comes out swift and final. “No. The chilly elixir is still serving me quite well. I have no need of your water.”

Link’s eyes widen slightly. “Chilly elixirs combat the heat, but do nothing for thirst.”

There’s a pause as Zelda attempts to read into his tone. It’s baffling, as the timbre of his voice is less formal than what she’s used to hearing from him. But the difference becomes clearer when she observes amusement dancing in his eyes. Or, at least, that’s what it seems to be. But Zelda wouldn’t know, for Link’s never been playful like this around her before.

“Yes, well--” The irony is not lost on Zelda when she must pause to swallow due to the dryness of her throat. “We shall pass through the bazaar soon enough and I assure you that I will properly hydrate once we’re there.”

Link’s stare remains fixated on her for another few seconds before he nods. She watches as he proceeds to put the waterskin away and then stand. She watches as he walks a couple of steps toward her and holds out his hand.

Ah. He means to help her stand. Curiouser and curiouser. Her brows knit in confusion, but she takes hand, regardless.

Once Zelda’s on her own two feet, he takes a couple steps back. She watches, transfixed once more as he raises his hand to pinch at the front of his tunic. He pulls the fabric in and out and mutters, “Hylia preserve me, I was not made for this heat.”

Well. She would have to agree. He was rather hot to the touch moments ago. For once, she’s at a loss for words and so she settles on an awkward laugh.

Whatever Link’s laughter and teasing and complaining of these last few moments add up to mean, it is all so at odds with what Zelda’s accustomed to. She has no idea what to make of him right now.

Link’s expression is suddenly serious as he scans the desert, turning on the spot. Ah, now his constant seriousness is certainly familiar. In the same moment, she can see how there’s sand all down his back, on his tunic, his trousers…

And before Zelda is able to think through what she’s doing, her two feet propel her forward, her hand reaches out and then she’s brushing at the sand on his shoulder. Link startles, twisting slightly to look at her, his eyes wide.

What has possessed her to do this, to touch him in this manner? Perhaps she’s not thinking clearly? Perhaps her need for water is more desperate than she realized?

Link is still looking at her over his shoulder as she continues to wipe away at the sand, briskly working her way down his back. His expression is open and, dare she say, surprised.

Zelda frowns. “Come now, you look ridiculous. You’re positively covered in sand and your hair’s a right mess. I simply cannot have my appointed knight present himself in Kara Kara Bazaar in such a state.”

Her words actually cause his cheeks to redden, another notable, yet not entirely novel reaction. She has seen him embarrassed before, like that one time when he was thoroughly dressed down by her father for getting into a scuffle with Revali. Or all those times where he’s been fawned over by the ladies of the court.

Link allows her to keep swiping the sand clinging to his person, but eventually she gets low enough down his back to realize she really ought to stop.

Withdrawing her hand and stepping back, Zelda crosses her arms and pointedly fixes her gaze on the tops of palm trees of the oasis, just barely visible over the horizon. “You’ve sand all over your posterior and your legs. I trust that you can see to that yourself.”

A quiet huff is all that she hears by way of a response. Perhaps it’s meant to be a laugh, but she wouldn’t know, for she resolutely refuses to look at him.

Instead, Zelda takes to pacing, being sure to keep him out of her line of sight as she does so.

Finally, Link clears his throat. “Does Her Highness find me to be presentable now?”

Zelda stops her pacing and shoots him a look out of the corner of her eye. Link turns about on the spot, offering her an inspection of him from all sides. Hmm. Yes, he appears to be far more presentable than he was moments ago. Her eye catches a spot on his rear still covered in sand, but she takes a deep breath and decides it’s best to not comment on it.

But his hair, now that is still a problem. His fringe remains plastered to his forehead and that simply will not do. Once more, her traitorous feet move on their own accord. Her hand reaches out, and Zelda brushes at the offending hair. Link, for his part, simply stands still, his eyes flick up to watch as her fingers deftly work to separate the hair from his forehead.

It’s rather pointless, really. She finds his hair, which is sleek and soft, is wet and therefore refuses to cooperate. This is distasteful on a number of levels, and therefore she withdraws her hand. She makes no attempt to hide how she scowls as she wipes his sweat away on her leggings.

“Sorry,” he murmurs in an uncharacteristic show of what Zelda might call embarrassment. He turns away to brush a hand roughly through his fringe.

“It’s… it’s fine,” she lies. It’s not fine. He looks terrible, and normally she’d relish in him being less than perfect, but for reasons she cannot explain, today she doesn’t have the will for it. Today has been, so say the least, strange.

“Your Highness, we really ought to keep moving,” Link says softly as he lowers his hand. His eyes track over the dunes once more as he says this.

Zelda draws in a deep breath and stands tall, raises her chin a bit. “Very well.”

Link holds her gaze as he nods. And then he turns on his heel and continues toward the oasis.

The oddness of the day continues to plague her. Zelda stands frozen, watching his retreating form and finds that her eyes are once more drawn to that line that goes pleasingly from his shoulder down to his waist. Goodness. This makes no sense. She shakes her head and then jogs a few steps to catch up with him.

Within a couple of minutes, the palm trees that grow around Kara Kara Bazaar come into full view. Thank the Goddess... the oasis is a refuge, a place of respite. Here she’ll be able to finally quench her thirst. Here she’ll be able to ease her running mind by conversing with literally anyone else besides him.

This is when a single word bubbles up in her mind. It’s a word that could spell a different kind of relief for her: escape. Among the hustle and bustle of the Bazaar, perhaps she can slip away? While he’s been uncharacteristically amicable today, perhaps what she really needs is to distance herself from him?

And it’s notable that of late, she’s become rather adept at outsmarting him.

A plan formulates before she can really stop it. She needs hydration and she will find it at the oasis. Yes, yes! She’ll make a big fuss over how the water must be chilled. She’ll demand that she must go into the Inn to find it. Once inside, she’ll slip out another entrance. Then she’ll be rid of him and his distracting presence once more! This next bit will be a stretch, but if she can beat him to the Gerudo Canyon Stable, then she’ll be able to prolong their separation.

Another thought rises in her mind and to her consternation, it’s in Urbosa’s voice: Little Bird, you know how dangerous the Gerudo Desert can be! Is this plan not foolish?

No, not in the least! Or, well...hrmm. Zelda frowns. She will concede that perhaps there is some foolishness in this plan, but she’s so, so close to the stable that she ought to be able to pull it off!

Besides... the quickness of her heartbeat, the heat of her cheeks offer all the more reason to escape.

It’s settled then. She must be rid of him, for there is simply no other option at this juncture.

Zelda sets her gaze once more on the back of his head. As her plan to escape him continues to solidify in her mind, she cannot help the wicked smile that grows at the thrill of it.

Link, ever a bastion of calm waters, continues to walk toward the Kara Kara Bazaar. This Hero, this one who’s blessed by the Goddess, remains oblivious. Once more, he’s none the wiser to her scheming, and she relishes in this.

Onward then, to the oasis, for Zelda is thirsty and she will not be denied her cunning escape.

#thirsty-and-in-denial-Zelda #botw zelink #botw fic #i wrote a thing

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carnistcervine · 4 years

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Parasitic Raava AU

F-it. Everyone is posting their awesomeness. I’m just gonna go out and post this. I’ve been sitting on this AU for months. Only having the courage to write a one-shot for it for Halloween. And that was for an off-shoot of this AU! Yeah, the main AU actually isn’t about Zuko and Azula at all. That was just from a random idea I got listening to a song. xD I am working on an outline for an expansion of that idea called “Cain and Abel” but it’s heavily in the rough stages for now. ewe

The main AU just follows off canon Avatar lineage, and Vaatu doesn’t get to have any fun at all. D’: Poor Vaatu, rest in rigatoni.

Okay so the inspiration for this idea originally came from when I was listening to the song Control by halsey, and I started thinking about the avatar state. It made me start thinking about a darker interpretation of the relationship between Avatar and Avatar Spirit. Then I was looking at a TvTropes page about animalistic abominations, and I started thinking about ATLA, cause some of the spirits look like animals and then the thing mentioned that Raava and Vaatu look like flatworms and oh god the mental image, it burns! ;n; I liked it better when I thought they were carpets... But anyway, after that horrifying revelation, my brain came up with this idea- What if Raava(and by extension Vaatu) was a parasite? Like she's still (mostly) good, but it's a pretty heavy case of good is not nice.

-If I had to describe this AU badly, it would be ATLA meets Venom.

-Big note: I have not seen Korra yet, so this is almost all based on what is established as canon in ATLA. Not that it really matters, since I'm not exactly trying to be accurate to canon anyway. :'D

-One note I should make right here is that for Wan's story at least, since it takes place in an era around the beginning of bending and benders, there is no four nations yet. There are four definitive elements, and four main divisions of people. Also because this is basically before/at the very beginning of the bending age, people aren't really benders, they have been gifted with the power to control the elements, but they're still learning to properly use said powers. So instead of benders, they are known as tide-pushers, earth-shifters, fire-makers, and cloud-sitters. The water tribes are broken up along many islands, swamps and the north and south poles. Instead of an Earth Kingdom, there's the Earth Continent which is made up of many cities and kingdoms and tribes; The Mountain Kingdom, the Sand Tribes, The Great City of the Steppe, etc... What will be known in the future as the Fire Nation is known as the Volcanic Archipelago, which contains many cities and tribes. The biggest and most prosperous city is Dragon City, this is where Wan is originally from. The people of the air are a majority nomadic people, but they do have a temple up in the clouds known as the Cloud Sanctuary.

-So Raava is still the spirit of light and peace, but I'm thinking that either she and Vaatu are two halves of a whole who cannot exist independently, or something happens to her and Vaatu that causes them to be unable to exist independently of a mortal form. But either way, Vaatu has been sealed away, and only Raava roams free.

-Another idea that I got is that both Raava and Vaatu were originally sealed away due to being parasitic spirits, but Raava's seal was broken and she was released into the world. This idea would play into why no one lives in the lost wilds, as it's said that a "dangerous being" lurks there.

-Wan is an ordinary fire-maker who lives out in the lost wilds after being exiled from his home. He lives a fairly quiet life, mostly trying to avoid the creepy spirits and monsters that lurk in the lands around him. His time is peaceful until he starts to come across the withered carcasses of animals.

-The corpses are all rail thin, ribs showing, eyes milky white and sunken in, bleeding from the nose and mouth. Other than that, there is no clear cause of death, no mortal injury, or even bite wounds to indicate infection, they all just look like they withered away and died. Like something had come and drained the vitality from them.

-Wan is gathering tinder one day when he comes across a strange sight. A polarbear dog wandering about. His first thought is wondering how one of those got this far north, then he noticed just how thin the creature was. The beast was facing away from him, it looked horribly thin and gave ghastly groans, like it was in horrible pain. As much as Wan was curious as to the cause of the mysterious deaths, at the same time he didn't want to suffer the same fate. He prepares to back away when the creature senses his presence. It stops and looks over it's shoulder, blazing white eyes gazing into his soul.

-Officially freaked out, Wan makes a run for it. He can hear the labored breathing of the creature bounding behind him. He briefly wonders if some kind of animal jiang shi is chasing him down. His thoughts are interrupted when the beast tackles him. Wan tries to push the beast off of him, but as soon as he hits the ground he feels a horrible stabbing pain. Not physical pain however, a strange spiritual pain, like something is drilling it's way into his very soul. Something seems to be worming it's way into his mind. The beast flips him onto his back and gazes deep into his eyes. Under the blank, burning gaze the bear-dog seems to be begging for Wan to help it. As he makes this revelation he starts to hear a faint feminine voice in his head.

-The voice attempts to soothe Wan. It tells him to relax, that it will all be over soon. The presence invading him had a strangely peaceful aura, like it was a graceful and soothing presence, but at the same time it was forcing it's way into his body. And he quickly figured that this thing was likely what was causing all those animals to die.

-Not wanting to suffer such a fate himself, Wan fights back against the spirit invading him. However, he realizes very quickly that this is a loosing battle. The deeper the spirit digs into him, the more Wan feels his thoughts loose clarity, like a warm blanket is enveloping his mind.

-Suddenly a harsh blast of air forces the bear-dog off of him. Someone rushes in to wrangle or fight the polarbear dog, despite the fact that he's still reeling from the feeling of something worming it's way deeper and deeper into his very being, Wan attempts to stand and warn the stranger of the situation. He weakly calls out to them to beware, but soon passes out from the pain.

-When Wan comes to, he's burning up with a fever. His spirit feels heavy and there's a soft feminine voice in his head cooing soothing things at him. Trying to lull him into a sense of security and comfort so that she or it can take over. Or so he assumes at least. Outside of his head, he can hear two people talking about him.

-When Ami and Onu went out to look for Ami's beloved polarbear dog, Taki, they did not expect to find the ursine-canine in such a state, and they expected to find a sickly fire-maker even less.

-Seeing Taki assaulting someone, Onu took immediate action and sent a blast of wind to knock the beast off of the man. Onu rushed in an attempt to calm Taki, he paused when he saw just how bad Taki looked. The polarbear-dog was starved thin, eyes milky-white and sunken in, and bleeding heavily from the mouth and nose despite no apparent injuries. He could only utter her name softly as the bear-dog fell to the ground, having reached the end of her strength.

-With Onu going after Taki, Ami rushed over the felled man's side. He attempted to sit up, moaning something about danger before immediately collapsing back onto the ground. He's very pale and burning up with fever. Her worries are only compounded when she cannot get the man to open his eyes or respond in any coherent manor.

-Of course Ami's day was only about to get much worse. She glaces over at Onu and sees the state Taki is in. Ami's heart shatters into thousands of pieces seeing her beloved companion in such a state.

-Using the moisture of her tears, Ami examine Taki's chi paths. Unfortunately Taki's chi had been drained, and her chi paths had been withered and burned through. There was no saving her. Despite this, Ami insists on trying to save Taki. Onu helps her drag both Taki and the strange man back to their base camp.

-Taki passes away soon before the man starts to regain consciousness. As heartbroken as Ami is, she focuses her energies on reading the chi of the mysterious man. She isn't sure what's causing the fever, as he lacks any signs of infection. She realizes that he's a fire-maker, and his inner fire is blazing out of control which is causing the fever. But why?

-The man, Wan, as Ami soon learns, weakly cries out about something draining the life out of the living, and how it's infested him. Ami assumes that it's just the fever talking, as by all means he should be fine. Aside from the fever, there's nothing wrong with Wan.

-Neither Ami, nor Onu know why Wan is ill, nor can they explain the mysterious death of not only Taki, but the other mysterious corpses they found in the Lost Wilds. However, they figure it best to take him away from this place. They opt to take him to the Southern Island Tribe to see a proper healer.

-They do eventually make it to the Southern Island Tribe and see a healer. The healer, a grizzled elder, tells Ami and Onu that Wan's fever is not natural, it is a spirit fever caused by the battle between his own spirit and one invading his being. Wan is deeply concerned, remembering the bodies he found back in the Lost Wilds, but the elder healer tells him that she can find no evidence of his chi being stolen or damaged.

-Wan wishes to purge Raava from his being, so Onu takes the group to see the elder monks at the Cloud Sanctuary.

-On the way there, the trio is attacked by a group of dangerous rogues. Seeing his new friends in danger, and being too weak to do anything about it, Wan reluctantly gives Raava control. Using Wan's body, Raava wipes the floor with the goons. Wan collapses afterwords because channeling that much energy is exhausting. It's at this point that Ami finally believes that Wan is actually possessed and not just loopy from fever. Both Onu and Ami are very impressed by the show of strength however.

-Continuing on the journey to the Cloud Sanctuary, the trio comes across a village that has been ransacked by pirates and subsequently torn apart by seemingly malevolent spirits. Ami and Onu want to move on, but Wan insists that they help the people. He tries to help, but he doesn't really know what to do. Reluctantly, he asks Raava to help him.

Okay so some more generalized notes about the AU~ -At first Wan is completely opposed to sharing his body with Raava. However, after some time he starts to work with her and learns to live with her.

-Not that Raava has any intention of giving up her host.

-After Raava infests him, Wan starts to manipulate all of the elements. At first it's just while Raava is in control, but slowly he starts to use other elements without Raava's influence. Also, he does notice a connection to all four elements right away, he just isn't sure what to think of it until it manifests into manipulation of all four elements.

-At first Raava is only motivated by the need to sustain herself. Being one of the greater spirits, she doesn't concern herself with mortal matters. However, the more time she spends with Wan, the more she learns to see the forest for the trees and empathize with the struggles of mortal beings.

-Dragon City is ruled by a gang of ruthless thugs who hoard wealth, food, resources, and rule the populace with an iron fist. The leader of this gang is the Dragon King, Ryuusei. Sure enough, Wan and Raava eventually take this asshole out.

-There needs to be a pirates arc where someone is kidnapped and Wan has to work with Raava to save them. If I don't write this, then what's the fucking point?

-Ami is a caring, but skeptical tide-pusher, and Onu is basically the stoner friend cloud-sitter.

-Raava calls Wan her Avatar, and eventually the name sticks.

-As time goes on, Wan and Raava's spirits become fully fused together. This makes Wan part spirit, and Raava part human. Of course, Wan is mortal and eventually dies a natural death, but because Raava is eternal, she is reborn into another body and such starts the avatar cycle.

-By the time that Wan passes away, the whole Raava is a parasitic spirit and the Avatar is actually possessed fades from the public consciousness and even the Avatars eventually forget that Raava is actually a parasite. Hell they soon forget her name and identity entirely, only knowing her as the "Avatar Spirit".

-In this AU, Raava is an incomplete being. As such she cannot sustain herself, she must attach to a mortal being to live among the mortal realm. And being half of the world's spirit, if she were to leave the mortal realm, the world would fall into chaos and eventually die. So she initially tries to sustain herself by fusing with plants and animals. Neither work, as her spirit is too strong for them, which causes their own spirits to burn up and their bodies to wither away. Wan is the first human and compatible being Raava attempts to fuse with. His human spirit is strong enough to withstand Raava's own spirit without being destroyed.

-As for Raava's characterization, I'd probably describe her as being a combo of good is not nice and well-intentioned extremist. Being a spirit of light and peace, she radiates a peaceful aura that she uses to soothe her host to make them reject her less. Or before she started possessing people, she'd use it so that her potential victims would be lulled into a false sense of security so she can latch onto them. She acts nice, again using her peaceful aura and gentle voice to soothe her victims. I'd hesitate to actually call her nice because she does casually ignore the independence and self-determination of her host. Well-intentioned or not, she is a parasite after all. And no, she doesn't feel bad about it. Bigger picture- Raava fades, the world dies. Raava's host dies, nothing particularly bad happens.

-Raava can be pretty vicious too tho. If kind words and manipulation, err I mean, gentle persuasion don't work, she's gets to be mean as hell. :D Even to the point of forcibly taking control and asking her host if they really think they're in control.

-Vaatu? He's just a straight up dick. Okay, fine, he pretends to be on your side while poisoning your mind and turning you against everyone that cares about you. Why? He thinks it's funny. And yeah, he's pretty much just straight up evil. He isn't above driving his host into madness and using them as a means to cause as much mayhem as possible. But he does so subtly, and works as insidiously as possible. I also kind of picture him as being the type that messes with your head by making you re-examine the very definitions of good and evil.

-Or maybe he does have some good in him. But you'd have better luck getting a polarbear-dog to speak perfect common tongue than getting any good out of Vaatu.

#ATLA #Avatar #ATLA AU #Avatar AU #ParasiticRaavaAU #This AU is super evil and I have so many different ideas for stories and offshoots.#Like just.#Something about Raava being mean to people(especially Zuko) tickles my id.

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allivegottodoislove · 5 years

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The Song Remains The Same

here it is! chapter sixteen, like 13 weeks after i promised it! sorry that my life got so hectic! but it’s summer now, so i’m trying to write a ton more for you guys! as a small update, i might post a larger one later, but i do promise that will be an update next week. ive been writing the next chapter of a lad insane, so there will be an update of that next week. i am going to try to have an update of this fic for next week, though, because i do know that this seems to be the preferred fic

but without further ado, enjoy chapter sixteen!

At some point in the night, everything started to blend together for Calypso. Where her body ended and Robert's began, she wasn't sure anymore. They had spent hours wrapped around each other. If Calypso didn't know better, she would have thought Robert was dying. But it was quite the opposite, wasn't it?

If Calypso had been capable of coherent thought, she would have pondered it. Was this his celebration of life? Or a man dealing with news he didn't know how to deal with? Besides another death, this might just have been the worst news Robert could have gotten. At least, that's how it seemed to Calypso.

Her brain wasn't working, though. Robert had effectively, for that night at least, shut off any thought processes. She didn't need them.

By the time they had finally passed out, they were both sticky and sweaty. They were just a pile of limbs and sore muscles. Neither cared, though. All they had wanted was to continue touching, to never let each other go. The good fight against their eyelids had been lost.

Robert was the first of the two to begin to stir. His eyes flicked open, adjusting quickly to the little streams of light in the room. He began to move, but soon realized he couldn't. Calypso was carefully tucked into his side. Her head rested carefully on his arm. Even if his heart had felt a little cruel, his arm was asleep. The rest of his body might want to stretch, but it would have to wait.

His attention turned to the rest of his body as he thought of it. It ached. But, this was an ache that Robert had long forgotten. It was no longer the aches and pains of old age; the pains of all the harm he had caused his body gone. It was almost easy to forget they had ever been there.

Calypso shifted slightly. Robert turned to face her, but noticed she was still lost to sleep. Let her have a few moments more, he figured. It was tough for him. He couldn't imagine the thoughts running through Calypso's head. He hoped he offered her more solace than pain.

His spare hand, the one not curled in Calypso's hair, ran down his own torso. It was a physique he had long forgotten. It was one that he had only managed to maintain on the road; mountains of cocaine had made it all possible. Now that he had been given it back, would it be back to those old vices? Robert hadn't thought of anything harder than marijuana in years. But what was to stop him now?

The one part of his body Robert could stretch, he did. It was the leg he had injured years ago in that accident. It felt like a lifetime ago to him. To this body, it had never happened. Perhaps it was what he was most grateful about now. That leg had never felt right again after, never healed completely as it should have. On rainy days like today, it would ache and protest his every movement.

It was only natural when Robert's attention shifted back to the warm body against him. It was a familiar feeling. Most of his life had been spent like this: a pretty face in bed that he hardly knew, but had already grown comfortable with. Perhaps that was his true vice. Robert's love flowed freely. He'd never been one to believe in having a single love.

It hadn't been until recently that the stream of girls had stopped. Finally, he had gotten too old. Or, the world had moved past him, his rock star status meaningless to those women. This one had changed that, though. Unknowingly, she had even made it possible for that stream of women to return.

Another old vice Robert wasn't sure he'd like to return to. His bed had gotten lonely. There was no denying this. But now he had a new girl to fill it, one he rather enjoyed.

She was a pretty face, there was no denying that. Looking at her now, Robert would be a fool to suggest anything else. At least, he would feel one. Any sign of concern or worry was wiped from her face. Despite her age, Robert had noticed her eyes always carried some anxiety in them. All he found himself wanting to do was wipe that away.

Looking closer at her, he could see a faint smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. It seemed her tanned, olive skin usually hid them from the world. Robert counted himself lucky to see them.

His mind, and free hand, quickly wondered from her face to elsewhere. It never took him much to get going. Even in his old age, he had still gotten there quickly when he needed to. Unable to stop himself, he leaned in and placed a kiss to her lips.

At the sudden new pressure, Calypso woke. Her eyes fluttered opened and she gave him a sleepy smile. It was still so much for her mind to process. In her groggy state, she half thought the vision of him was a dream.

It took a second kiss for her heart to really jump into action. This was real. It was all real. Her only physical reaction was her smile grew just a bit more.

As she came a bit more too, she reached a hand up to play with his hair before returning his kiss.

"Good morning," she mumbled. It was obvious that sleep was still in her voice. For a faint moment, Robert debated letting her sleep. As much as he would have loved to spend the morning lazily making love, he couldn't keep her up like that. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and smiled.

Before any words could leave his mouth, there was a loud banging downstairs, accompanied by some vague grumbling. Robert could only sigh and run his hand down his face.

"Good morning to all of us, it seems," he mumbled. Calypso just chuckled softly before she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "As much as staying in bed with you all day sounds perfect," he said as his hand ran down her body, "I do believe that we have our guests to attend to."

Her heart froze a little at least. She knew it was foolish. Time and time again he had said they were their guests. Hell, last night he had asked her to stay, indefinitely. But there was still something that got to her. Maybe it always would. It was hard for her to guess how things might play out.

The memory alone of last night had her wanting to cry. Not the sex they had, she would never be saddened by that. But rather, how gentle he had been when talking to her. She knew Robert had a way with words. It how he had won over the whole world; his lyrics spoke right to people. Having that magic worked on her personally would always get to her.

"I'll go deal with them now," he mumbled. He finally wrangled his arm out from under her and sat up. His arms went above his head to stretch, and Calypso couldn't help but reach over and tickle at his sides.

"You devil!" He roared with laughter as he turned to face her. "Just for that, you're on your own with the shower!" If Calypso hadn't seen the twinkle in his eyes, she might have thought he was serious.

"You wouldn't do that, now," she said as he laughed again.

"No, I suppose I wouldn't want to do that," he said with a laugh. Calypso stood up from the bed, and all at once began to realize how sore she was. It hadn't hit her before then. Or, perhaps it hadn't mattered until her legs tried to give out from under her.

"Worked you a little hard last night?" Robert asked with a chuckle. Calypso just rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Nothing I can't take again," she said with a wink. Robert offered her his arm as he kissed her forehead.

"I'll walk you there, maybe be so kind as to explain how the shower works," he said with a smile. She nodded and simply followed him. It was a bit unnecessary, after a few seconds of standing she had gained her bearings again, but the contact was nice. She'd never refuse it.

Once in the bathroom, Robert let go of her arm to grab a towel and place it on the sink. "Now, this contraption can get a little tricky." He spoke with a grin as he slid the shower curtain over. "This little thing here controls the pressure, and the other controls the heat. I do hope you enjoy yourself," he said. The grin he had on his face lit Calypso's insides on fire again.

"But, if that's not good enough for you, feel free to take a bath. If you don't, I might just try and con you into one later." Calypso could only smile and lean up to kiss his cheek in response.

Once she started the shower, she looked back at Robert with a grin. "I might just let you con me into that bath later."

Another loud bang came from downstairs and Robert rolled his eyes. "I'll leave you to your peace now, and go deal with our rather raucous guests," he said before disappearing. As much as she hated parting with him, watching him go, especially naked, was such a sweet sight.

Calypso held her hand out under the water, waiting for it to get warm enough. That didn't take too long. How he managed to have such a lovely shower in the middle of nowhere she didn't quite understand. But, that mattered not now. She stepped into the shower and closed the curtain behind her.

Once the water hit her back, she was unable to keep herself from letting out a gentle moan. Any of the knots in her back seemed to come undone between the pressure and the hot water. It was exquisite.

For a few moments, she just stood under the showerhead and enjoyed the warmth. Her eyes flew open when she thought she heard the door open. Would Robert be joining her in the end? No noises seemed to follow immediately, until she heard Jimmy yelling from downstairs. The door made a quick slamming sound not long after. Perhaps he had thought about it, but their guests were too much. She'd have to gaud him into that bath later.

All of Robert's hair products smelled amazing. It wasn't something that should have surprised her. He always smelled divine. It would only make sense his products would as well.

It wasn't until she began to wash her body that she realized how much Robert had marked her up. Nothing but hickeys, of course. She doubted he would be capable of the things she heard Jimmy did. But, she found her body littered in hickeys. None were in plain sight, something she was incredibly grateful for. Her thighs, in particular, seemed to be the most marked up. She could remember him eating her out, how could she ever forget, but she didn't think he had put that much work into it.

As she stepped out of the shower and reached for the towel on the sink, she realized she hadn't picked out any clothing. For a moment, she began to wonder where her suitcase had gone. She hadn't seen it this morning, or even last night. Had Robert moved it on her?

She wrapped the towel around her and noticed that, on the closed toilet seat, there was an outfit picked out for her. It seemed as if Robert had picked out something for her. He already seemed too sweet to be real. It was just a pair of black jeans and a sweater, but it would do. Now she wouldn't have to worry about leaving the warmth of the bathroom completely naked.

She slipped the jeans on, and then the sweater. It looked similar to one she owned. Of course it would have to hers, right? It was just a tad bigger than she remembered, and she certainly didn't remember packing it. But, with the whirlwind she had been swept up into, she couldn't blame herself for forgetting some things.

She ran the towel a couple times through her hair, just to make sure it wasn't completely soaked. From there, she found her way downstairs. The smell of good food filled the air, and she knew that she had to head toward the kitchen. It was where Robert would be. At least, she assumed that's who was cooking, based on dinner last night. Perhaps things would be changed up.

Walking it the kitchen, the first thing she saw was the back of Robert, his curls halfway down his back. How he managed to get them to look so nice, seemingly without any effort, was lost on her.

"It smells delicious," she said after a few moments. A girl had to enjoy a view, right?

"Just in time," he said as he turned around to face her. His face lit up as he made eye contact with her. "I cooked up whatever I could find for a good English breakfast, I hope that you don't mind," he said.

"I've yet to have a proper one, and I can't imagine a better, or more handsome, cook," she said with a grin. Robert grinned and just rolled his eyes. "Was it you that snuck back into the bathroom to gift me with my clothing?"

"Well, the sweater is mine, but it looks better on you than it ever did on me. One of the few things I found I had lying around from a different era," he chuckled.

Calypso, on the inside, could only melt in that. Now it made sense why the sweater looked so familiar. It wasn't one that she owned. Rather, it was one she had likely seen him photographed in. But, also, he was giving her his clothing to wear. It was stupid, but it was probably the most romantic gesture someone had ever done for her.

"I'll make sure to give it back to you," she replied quickly.

"Darling, you don't need to. Like I said, you look much better in it," he said with a smile. "I didn't want to go searching through your bag too much, privacy and all," he said while waving a spatula around. "You'll have to unpack your bag eventually. I'll clean out some dressers for you."

"Oh, you don't need to do that," Calypso mumbled.

"Nonsense, I will. Now, I hope you don't mind helping me carry this to the table?" He asked as he held out a plate to her.

"No, not at all," she replied as she took the plate. It was all so domestic. Setting the kitchen table for breakfast while wearing his clothing? It felt unreal. Calypso wasn't sure what to make of it all. How could she? It wasn't like she had gone to the concert with the plans to tie down the mysterious and ever illusive Robert Plant. Hell, she hadn't even been planning to sleep with him.

There was just so much to process all at once. For the most part, she could handle it. But there were small pockets were she felt overwhelmed with anxiety. She didn't want to lose this. It was good; honestly it seemed a little too good. What if she managed to screw this up? The spell might say they were meant to last forever, but what if she took a wrong step? What if he found another woman?

It wasn't like Robert was known to fall for one person. Even back when he was freshly married, he was a notorious womanizer. There was nothing keeping them together. She hadn't had problems with his ways when Robert hadn't been so real to her. Now he was, and he was back to his Golden God looks, what would stop the Golden God ways?

Touring was the big question. With all this, she refused to believe that Jimmy would press to get the real band back together. Logically, she knew he probably wouldn't go on tour again. At least, not with Zeppelin and probably not on his own for a while, with the new looks and all. That was assuming they ever went public with this whole disaster. Though, she wasn't sure how they manage to hide it forever. There would be other woman all over him on the road. It wouldn't be hard to find a prettier, more experiences girl than her.

Now wasn't the time to be freaking out about that. It was too early in their relationship, if she could even call it that, to start to worry. If she did, she'd look crazy. It was a roller coaster she was going to have to learn to just ride. It's what Robert always seemed to do.

"You'll be joining us for breakfast, right?" She asked as she looked back at him.

"Of course, I didn't cook all this for nothing. I'm not getting paid," he laughed, "Just tell everyone to wait for me, I just gotta finish this." Calypso just smiled and walked into the kitchen.

She took a few minutes to set the table. Of course she knew this wasn't all the food. Robert would likely be bringing in more. It looked like he had been planning to feed a small army. Maybe with these men, and Jonesy's wife, it would be like feeding an army. Robert knew them better than she.

From the kitchen, she went to the living room. The sounds of idle chitchat and the morning news filled the room. It seemed to be some news story on their concert. If only the reporter knew the goldmine that might come out of Zeppelin one day.

"Morning everyone!" She managed to get out before the shock hit her. The sight in front of her was one that was still shocking. Jimmy and Bonzo sat on two chairs, side by side, with Jonesy and his wife cuddled up on the couch. If the news hadn't just said the day's date, she would think it was 1972 again. It amazed her. It took everything in her body to not have her jaw drop. As it were, it was clear she was still a bit shocked because Jimmy chuckled under his breath.

"Morning Calypso," Jonesy said with a smile. It seemed he was the only morning riser. Everyone else sluggishly turned to her with a smile, and mumbled their good mornings under their breathes. Bonzo and Jimmy practically grunted.

"Rough night boys?" She asked with a teasing smile.

"Would have been a lovely night, if someone hadn't been managed to keep me up most the night," Jimmy mumbled. The look he said it told her everything. They'd all heard her and Robert, likely all night. Her face turned a bright red from sheer embarrassment.

If Jimmy had heard them, there was no doubt that the whole house had heard them. Were the rest of them just going to put up with it? Never tell them they had been horrendously loud?

"Oh god, I'm so-" she opened her mouth to apologize by Jonesy cut her off.

"Now, Jimmy, there's no need-" he said, but was cut off by Robert as he walked into the room.

"Consider it payback, for all those nights on the road, especially during the 90s tour," he said with a laugh. "We've all lost sleep and years off our lives because of the noises you and your little girl friends made," he said.

Jimmy answered with a roll of his eyes before he spoke. "All in good fun, Robert, of course it's all in good fun," he said with a wink. Robert just rolled his eyes before he motioned for everyone to follow him.

"The kitchen table fits us all better, wouldn't you agree?" He asked. "Besides, some of you are messy eaters and I'll be damned if you stain the furniture," he said with a smile.

Everyone laughed at that and followed Robert to the dining room. It seemed that he had brought out a few more plates than Calypso had assumed, because there was much more food than she had remembered.

Robert took his seat first, and motioned for Calypso to sit down next to him. Everyone else filled in around them, with Maureen on her other side.

"How did everyone else sleep?" Robert asked as he began to pass the plates around.

"I couldn't get to bed," Bonzo said as he began to pile the food onto his plate. No doubt he was hungry. Calypso couldn't really blame him. "I suppose taking a twenty something year long cat nap will do that to you, he said. There was a nervous tone in his voice.

But at least he was joking about it, Calypso thought that was at least good. It was an uncomfortable subject. Looking around at the table, she could see the mix of reactions. It was clearly a joke, but a joke no one was quite ready for. How did you joke about your buddy's death with the dead buddy?

"First time in years I got to wake up without that crick in my neck," Jonesy said. There was a smile on his face that was suggesting something else.

"And you, Mo? I hate to think we kept you up like the princess here," Robert said as he pointed a thumb at Jimmy. Jimmy, in return, just hugged and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, no no," she chuckled. "Both me and John slept just like babies." Her grin matched Jonesy's and that was what made the spark in Calypso's brain go off.

She knew very little of Jonesy's marriage. It didn't seem to be very well publicly documented, and honestly she never really did the research into Jonesy. It never hit her to. But the way they were grinning and looking at each other? Perhaps her and Jonesy were the ones that kept Jimmy up, not Calypso and Robert. She couldn't help but chuckle a little bit at that.

Breakfast, from there, seemed to be a roaring conversation about nothing as they all passed plates around. Once everything seemed to be piled high on people's plates, the conversation died down as they all ate. It was clear the stress of yesterday had made plenty of room in all their stomachs.

Once Robert was done, he looked around the table to notice that everyone else seemed to be just about done as well. "I'll go put the kettle on," he said as he got up. It only took him a few minutes to return and sit down, clearly waiting for the scream of the kettle before he returned.

"Before the tea, though, I don't want anyone to go anywhere. I think we have a few problems to deal with. The first is the dishes, I'm not washing up after all you animals," he laughed. "But, there are a couple other, bigger issues I think need a bit of our attention as well."

#the song remains the same #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin fanfiction

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quixotickaya · 4 years

Text

Why Not? Why I’m Shedding My Personal “Wall” on Facebook (But Keeping My Other Social Media Accounts)

Ah, Tumblr (where I’m originally posting this). How I love you so! And yet, for some reason when I do my nightly scrolling, I’m always on Facebook. Why? Well, because everyone and their mom is on Facebook. Even my mom! About half as many are on Instagram. Some of my friends even prefer “The Gram” to Facebook. Did you know they’re one in the same now? Yep. There’s no escaping the Zucker-machine. And that motherfucker even said it was okay for white supremacists to use his platform. Sure, it cost him tons of money in advertising deals, but I don’t see regular users walking away in droves. Not even me, unfortunately. At least not for now. If I ever get away from Facebook proper completely, there will still be no way that I can shuck FB Messenger, because then how will I talk to my family. On an actual phone?! That’s just insane!

But I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take being picked apart by family, friends, and strangers alike for the things that I say, and the pictures I post. Can you judge a person by the memes they post? Well, maybe. And I’ve made the mistake of reposting all kinds of things with no context just so that other people can see them and go “wow, what the fuck?” But then they assume that I agree with the meme, and I start getting all kinds of things thrown at me.

I get picked apart for beliefs I hold. I get picked apart for objects in the background of my selfies. I even have people going through the comments on my posts so that they can argue with me, or my friends about what they’re saying. Really, if any of you know me at all, you know that the last thing I want is people fighting. So why are we using my wall as a place to wage wars and fight unnecessary battles? I’ve had it. I’d rather just not post at all.

Does posting bring me joy? I don’t know if I’d go that far. It does give me something to gleefully waste my time on when I should probably be doing the dishes or getting ready for work, but I wouldn’t say that it brings me joy. For some reason, I’ve always had this undying need for people to know me and understand me for the majestically odd creature that I am. The problem is, they still don’t get it, and it’s getting worse. I’m even talking about people who know me personally and have known me for years. I feel like if someone has to say “I can’t believe she said/posted that!” they’re probably misinterpreting me. I’m weary. I’m tired. I can’t do it anymore.

Part of my issue is also that I’m a writer. Just hear me out: I have access to a platform that I can use any time of day or night to put my thoughts out into the world in short, satisfying bursts. I use writing as a form of stress relief, and you might think that using Facebook to blurt out my thoughts randomly might be a good pressure release. Contrarily, I have found that it really just makes it worse for multiple reasons, including being misinterpreted, as I’ve already covered, and also giving me instant gratification without working for it. I can burp out a line of text, and I feel relieved for the moment, but I don’t get it out. Not really. I don’t elaborate, I don’t make myself clear, and I don’t get deep into the part of my brain that really needs the exercise. I let some steam out of the tank, but at the end of the day, it’s still ready to burst. I don’t need that.

I need this. I need to write endlessly, and then pop it out onto Tumblr. You know what the best and worst thing is about Tumblr? No one else is on it. Obviously not NO ONE, but nosey neighbors, co-workers, high-strung family members are all over on Facebook wasting their energy on ruining each other’s days. Meanwhile, I’m over here creating. Practicing. Putting down words; I need more than 120 characters to be me. I need to stretch and grow. I haven’t even written a Temple episode since the end of March. For those of you keeping score, it’s July.

That means that I have not sat down to actually create anything in just over 3 months. That’s dangerous for a writer. It’s no wonder I’m so stressed out that I can barely breathe. For once, it’s because I haven’t spent enough time in my head. I spend too much time in the destructive part of my brain, and I fall out of balance. I cry every morning. I think about ending my own life. I overthink, I judge, I hurt, and I let my thoughts run away with themselves when I should be wrangling them into something coherent. I need to breathe. I need writer-space. I can cross-post to Facebook if I really want people to read what I’m up to, but you know what? This isn’t for other people. It’s for me, and my brain, and my heart.

I had a therapist once who told me that my Facebook addiction was a problem. I still think she was a fucking quack, and a technophobic boomer who doesn’t understand social media, but she wasn’t completely wrong in the end. Of course she didn’t give me these reasons, or help me understand why my mind in particular was being hindered by the limits that Facebook and Twitter enforced. I thought I was being clever, being able to say what I needed to say in 120 characters or less, but really, I was just being restrained; censored, even, and anyone who knows me well enough knows that I am not a soul that can survive in that kind of environment.

Thank you for reading.

-Azure Angel

#rant #facebook #facebook sucks #opinion #writer #a writer's mind #mental health #human interaction sucks #healing #writing #i love writing

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