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kamy2425 · 2 months

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"The Meaning of Death" (Discworld Fanfic) Chapter 6: Dreams and Wishes

[Context for Tumblr Users: Rincewind and Eric have appeared in Coin's dimension]

There was something about this place that Rincewind reminded him of. The memories of a little picture book began to unfold. Not of the place nor whoever gave him that book, but just the image of one single page. A sourcerer whose hands spread wide apart as the magic around him flowed colorfully across the page. It was that single image that has given Rincewind that glimmer of self-discovery. It is what led him to become a wizard in the first place.Rarely has Rincewind reminisced of a past where he wasn't a wizard. Much less, a memory where he wasn't running for his life. It made him questioned where had all this bad luck started. And...if it was even possible to have that small feeling of not looking out for any danger or being scared. Just his eyes glued to a book, unaware of the world outside. He felt rather guilty of having that feeling. He even remembered the sillier times where his young self wished to be that figure in the book.

And it is what Coin has become. It is what this world is.

There stood Rincewind, a wizard of no magic, and a little kid who has all the magic in the world. What would have happened if their lives were switched? To live in the fantasy that Rincewind always dreamed of? He didn’t have to imagine.

Rincewind looked around. A world of just magic. A world that lives on one singular page. Never to flip on the other side. For Rincewind, it felt…kinda lonely. With all the magic in the world, Rincewind won't possibly be able to replicate that warmth and the comically banter that happens in the Mended Drum. There won't be a morning where Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler would try to sell him questionable meats at a fair price, or that isolated but cozy solitude that the library in the Unseen University provided, nor its librarian.

Coin raised his hands as plush chairs manifested from the ground to his two visitors. For himself, he sat on a large tree stump and wiggled his legs happily as he stared at the two with his golden brown eyes.

“Oh! Drinks!” Coin gasped, “That’s what’s missing!”

He clapped his hands together as a little cloud shaped all the drink he could conjure up.

Eric waved his arm, “Lemonade sounds great, friend!”

Pop! Lemonade with a handful of ice cubes landed onto Eric’s grip. Coin moved his head towards the other guest, “Do you fancy one of those adult drinks? A cup of beer, perhaps?”

“No, thank you…” Rincewind waved the little cloud away from his face, “I’m still flavoring Eric’s uh…delicious mystery soups from earlier, thank you all the same.”

“A cup of water perhaps, then?” Asked Coin as his eyes were holding Rincewind’s guilt hostage.

“Water would be nice!” Rincewind quickly responded, “Thank you.”

He couldn’t find an opening to throw the drink in secrecy, so Rincewind had no choice but to drink it. He was surprised that it was just regular old water. Just without the pesky muddy-flavor. So really, this water was the most water that Rincewind has ever tasted in his whole life.

“You must have so many questions for me, do you not?” Coin asked.

“Well, um…”

“After I escaped the Dungeon Dimension because of you,” Coin explained without much of Rincewind’s response, “I fixed my mistakes. And I decided to create this world. For myself.”

Rincewind jumped in place as Coin teleported from behind him and pulled onto his robe,

“Go on!” He said cheerfully, “Ask me anything! I’ll make it for you!”

“I um…okay uh…” Rincewind struggled as he wasn’t good at talking to children, “Some new pair of socks would be nice.”

Coin chuckled and produced some red-colored socks with star patterns on them, “I can produce a brick if you'd like to continue that fight.”

“No, I’m okay with just the socks thank you.”

I must be dreaming! He scratched his head, but actually, according to Eric he WAS dreaming. So what can he do? Wake up? What kind of danger would his body be if he doesn’t? Actually, now thinking about it… when was the last time he slept? Sleeping is nice and all, but Rincewind has learned something valuable about the art of wakefulness:

The more times you close your eyes, the more you’ll miss the danger coming straight at you.

“Excuse me,” Rincewind stepped away and dragged Eric along, “He just made me socks.”

“I can see that.” Eric replied, “Are they not your size?”

“No, it’s not that! They fit like a glove!” Rincewind shouted, until he remembered he wasn’t alone and lowered his voice, “Fit like a sock, I mean.”

“Look..uh….oh!” Rincewind leaned closer at whisper length, “He’s making wishes, isn’t he? And yet, you’re not like…asking him for any like…I don’t know, riches? babes? the whole ruling the world thing?

“Oooh, that!” Eric laughed, “Oh, no I’m way past that!”

“What do you mean?” Rincewind glared as Coin just walked casually at their not-so-secret conversation.

“Well, the thing is…those wishes were something I wanted because everyone else wanted it, you know?” Eric explained, “Everyone in my town just, constantly going Eric, when are you getting a girl? Eric, when are you getting a real job? Eric, why are you such a lazy piece of-”

Rincewind immediately blocked Coin’s ears as Eric was mumbling in silence. Rincewind shook his head no as Coin laughed at the exchange.

“....Anyways, those things were just someone else’s wishes. And I believed ‘em.” Eric sank his shoulders, “I thought I wanted them.”

Coin stepped in and placed a hand on the other boy’s shoulders, “Our wishes and destinies had been shaped by someone else’s.But it shouldn’t define what we are underneath it all.”

A moment of philosophical silence flowed through the timeless breeze.

“Is it really that simple?” Rincewind asked, much more to himself than the crowd around him.

“May, I?” Coin extended a hand and pointed at the wizard’s head. “I wish to see the world and what’s become of it.”

Rincewind hesitated, there’s been times where cursed books and animated hats took a peek at his mind. Only, he was always close to death in those times. If something were to happen now, in this peaceful looking world, then it would probably be a good way to go about it. The wizard sighed as he leaned down on the ground and said, “Alright.”

They both closed their eyes. Coin could see all the events that occurred on the wizard’s timeline. All the failures, all the chaos, and all the little moments where he was at death’s door steps, unfolded within himself.

“You have lived a pretty interesting life.” Coin pointed out, “To unknown lands, impossible dimensions, to even being in the far ends of the universe itself.”

“Look, I know what you’re about to say, but-”

“It must have been awful.”

“...why, thank you.”

…

Far away in the forest, a group of hooded figures observed the various footprints left on the ground.

The leader of the pack crouched down on one knee as he dipped his finger in the soft muddled floor. He lifted it up and gave it a strong whiff. It really was pointless, but someone had to do it for the whole atmosphere of the thing. At least he hesitated in giving it a taste sample.

“The box.” Said the leader, “It’s been here.”

“Gosh,” responded one of his minions, “You can tell all that with just a whiff?”

The leader pointed far off into the distance. It looked like the owner of those footprints rested, leaving a wide rectangular hole in the mud. Afterwards, the trail goes back to tiny little feet marching straight forwards.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure.” He stood up and lowered his hoodie. The man was bald, but he covered that up with the number II marked on his forehead. He had to find someone to take out one of the lines, now that he has ascended after the whole fire fiasco a while back. It might look uneven, but everyone would know who is in charge.

“Men!” He shouted, “We find the box, we find the Wizard! We find the Wizard, we find our Orb!”

The group cheered in unison.

“We will not rest! We will not eat! We will find the Orb of Knowledge until our very last breath!”

“I prefer to breathe, to be honest.” Whispered one of the minions in silence, “It comes with living, after all.”

“Everyone!” Shouted the leader, the group stiffed in place. He swung his sword and aimed at the setting sun, where the footprints continue on the other side, “Forwards!”

The group vanishes in the distance, leaving their own trail behind as well.

…

Even further back, little demons looked over some of the same footprints. They were very confused about the additional number of feet that came along with it.

“The wizard has an army!” Shouted the youngest demon of the group, “We’re doomed!”

“Not doomed!”

The demons turned their little head towards the voice. While it appeared to be the shortest of the group, it made up with its longest looking horns sitting on top of its head. He moved to the front of his army and turned towards them.

“I, Killer Buzz the Second,” Said the leader, “Promises you, revenge will be all the sweeter once that Wizard is dead!”

The army cheered.

“Do not fear those shoes!” He pointed, “They are but lesser beings! What we make in size, we make up for it in numbers!”

The army cheered loudly.

“We will not rest until we feast on the blood of our enemy!”

“Yes!!!”

“We will honor Lord Beetlebuzz’s death! His past might have been lies, but his legacy will be the truth!”

“Yess!!!”

“And if push comes to shove, all younger demons will be the first to be used as bait!”

“Y…”

The sound wave of the crowd died, but quickly found the momentum again, “...yay?”

Killer Buzz nodded in reassurance as he turned his back and pointed his pitchfork straight ahead.

“Forwards!”

The little army of demons marched. Their bodies were visible until reaching the far end of the grassy hill.

Notes:

I've only seen one or two one-shots that had Coin in it. He's such an interesting character and a really great foil to Rincewind's whole Wizard thing. If you're interesting in the story, give it a full read in AO3! My first time writing about Discworld, and I hope I can provide that familiar warmth and magic that these books provide. I may not be an expert writer just yet, but I love Discworld, and hopefully this will help me get better at it!

Read the other chapters on AO3 here!

#gnu terry pratchett #Rincewind #Discworld #Coin #coin discworld #Eric #Rincedeath #I would say that this is a Death / Rincewind fanfic but it's mostly Rincewind being Rincewind and Death appears occasionally. You know like #A regular Rincewind book! XD #(spoilers: There's going to be Rinceflower in it as well)

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nottotallyhereyet · 5 months

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Flower

You are not as pretty as a flower

You are too much to be condensed into one singular flower

Too many thorns

Too many roots

Too many bushes and bricks walls trying to hide you

There is too much of you

You will never be pretty like a flower

Never as pretty as a flower

That isn’t good enough

You are pretty like a garden

The gardens you get lost in

Vines on the walls

Trees with flowers and fruits

Thorns and flowers

So many different kinds of flowers

Because you are more than just one flower

You are a garden

You are like a garden

You are as pretty as a garden

So let yourself grow

Admire the throne and walls

They are protecting you

Admire the stumps from the parts you’ve had to cut off

They are places to sit, to rest

Admire the flowers

How each is different yet the same

You are not as pretty as a flower

You are as pretty as a garden

#poetry #original poem #poem #idk if i like it

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egg-emperor · 1 year

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watched some of the sonic prime show earlier with some friends and i was very sad when the overgrowth episodes rolled around and there wasn't a eggman there, i genuinely thought there was a eggman cutting down the trees when i saw the stumps, i hope theres more singular eggman in the show's future because the council really aren't enough eggman compared to our eggman imagine the potential of more than just the egg council, different eggman for different shard worlds

yeah it's strange and sad that he doesn't have any alternate versions in nearly all the places, it would've been great to see him involved there, whether he was one of the threats to nature as usual or maybe an alternate where he works with nature instead of destroy. they had options with potential and didn't take them. and I would've loved to finally see animated pirate Eggman because he looks so beautiful as one in comic art but he was nowhere to be seen there too whyyy we we're fuckin robbed :')

it makes it feel like they just really don't wanna use regular Eggman or even any other alternate versions at all outside of the Council even more, for some reason. why are they the only variants we've seen and why are they all together in NYC? I hope there's still a chance that another alternate will appear in a future alternate world we haven't seen yet but since they reuse the same characters each time that are actually Sonic's friends then that doesn't seem too likely.

and I especially hope regular Eggman gets to do more but I'm not sure if he still exists after the prism shattering so I guess we won't see him until they fix all that, unless it turns out he wasn't affected in the same way like Sonic and Shadow. or if the Council somehow are him split up but that just seems really weird because yeah they don't feel Eggman to me either but get away with it as they're alternate universes but it would be random if they were actually supposed to be him.

Idk why they they don't seem to want to use regular Eggman and seem to want to keep their Eggmen to a minimum in general when more is always merrier. but regular Eggman should've stayed a part of the Council like he appeared to be in the concept art or he should at least get involved with them later if they're still in the picture for a while, and there absolutely should've been even more variants across the other worlds too and it'll be sad if they don't explore that even once.

#asks #dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #sonic prime #my post

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sociallyawkwardtoaster · 2 years

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Tomorrow and Tomorrow

AO3

There are days when Anne wonders if she made a mistake.

Most days are good, of course. The aquarium’s leadership are always receptive to her ideas for the amphibian room, and constantly astonished at the passion and drive this newly-minted herpetologist, barely in her twenties, brings to the job. With a constant flow of wide-eyed children and adults alike coming into her domain on a daily basis, any remaining doubts over her singular vision for presenting practical amphibian biology as a fantastical word waiting to be discovered were firmly squashed.

But there are moments when a certain pink tree frog would look at her in a certain way, or the texture of the moss and bushes would brush against her skin, or the golden letter hanging in front of a hollowed-out stump would catch her eye, and her tears would flow. Far too many times her coworkers would ask if she needed anything, and she would have to smile and wave them off, unable to explain how much she missed a world they could only imagine, the second family she would never forget.

Sometimes, when the ache was too much to bear, she wondered if she had been wrong to follow this calling and surround herself in things that served as constant reminders of what she might never have again.

But all it ever takes is another look at how far she has come, all that she had accomplished here and far away, and into those tiny, pale green eyes, to remind her of why she chose this. Because it is so much better to embrace the memories, bittersweet as they may be, than to let them fade in the dark.

*~*

There are days when Sprig fears he can’t step outside.

Not for any practical reason – he is still the same adventuresome frog he’s always been, hopping from one journey to the next, his curiosity never sated. He and Ivy had traveled the world together, seeking out so many new discoveries it scarcely felt like the universe had anything left to surprise them. And yet there was always something new and wonderful around the corner, just waiting to be found and scribbled down in an ever-growing journal.

But stepping outside meant going into town and seeing her.

The statue had already gained a few cracks and spots of moss here and there. Her un-shoed foot had grown unnaturally smooth from all the frogs who had made the pilgrimage to see the hero of Amphibia, just for a single touch in the hope that something of what made her exceptional would rub off on them. Every day, little tadpoles stood in awe of its majesty, unable to believe that such a strange creature from another world was the reason they were here today.

And sometimes Sprig wished he could tear it down, stuff it in his pocket, and hide it in the deepest depths of the swamp. The last memory of his dearest friend, hidden from those who could never understand, locked away to be his and his alone.

And then he looks again at the children staring in disbelief, and he knows that the past is something to be shared, and who was he to deny them the privilege of knowing who she was, and not just what? And so he sits in the shadow of his best friend, and invites them in as he brings his greatest adventure to life once again.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #the hardest thing spoilers #anne boonchuy #sprig plantar #my writing #i don't even remember what my writing tag was it's been so long lol #but anyway YEAH HOW ABOUT THEM AMPHIBIANS

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minnesotadruids · 3 years

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Hello there! If it s not too much trouble, how do you feel about media/pop-culture portrayal of druids?

Since the word “Druid” is used a lot to mean “Nature Wizard” would you prefer if people used/make up their own different words for their stories or find it ok to use the term as long as they’re respectful or accurate to Druidism to some degree?

In terms of the "best" media depiction of druids, I think the BBC series Merlin with Colin Morgan is probably the closest we can get to a positive portrayal of the Celtic priestly caste. I still hesitate to describe it as accurate, but at the very least I wasn't balking at the show as much as I did when watching an episode of The Librarians. We'll get to them in a moment.

There's also the fun Australian miniseries Roar that starred a young Heath Ledger. It was full of historical inaccuracies (the premise being about a Roman-occupied Ireland for one thing). But it portrayed the druids in a positive light despite being at a time when they were in decline.

In the TV show The Librarians: And the Rise of Chaos (season 3 episode 1) they have a very brief (2-3 minute) run-in with some angry druids. The mob only shouts and growls but don't seem to speak, all while wearing tattered robes and brandishing wooden farm implements of various functions. They were also wearing cringey cast-resin masks of animal skulls that miraculously fit perfectly on their faces and just looked fake. I should point out this show takes place in the present.

The librarians have to climb a wicker man and solve a puzzle to steal a rune-covered stone artifact. The puzzle is based on a Celtic board game gwyddbwyll AKA fidchell. In the episode, the game pieces are Norse runes (Elder Futhark). Historically, the Iron Age Celts would not have used those runes. The game pieces should be carved figures of warriors instead. Then things get a bit personal with the tree stump inscription.

One librarian translates the markings on the stump which he says are "ancient Gaulish mixed with third century astrological symbols," and somehow reads "when the king reaches the north, the light will reveal itself."

*FACEPALM*

Well the three symbols on the left side are more Norse Elder Futhark (i.e. not even Celtic), the symbol cluster in the upper right corner looks like it could be vaguely Lepontic script (i.e. yes, “ancient Gaulish”) but that specific one is not in the Lepontic alphabet at all. Just for fun they have the symbol for Aries (the aforementioned (but singular) Greek astrological symbol). The Celtic triskele is in the upper middle of the stump and variations of it go back thousands of years, but it doesn't really have a universally accepted meaning.

What upset me the most was the incorporation of the Druid Sigil (bottom center of the stump). It is the official symbol of the Reformed Druids of North America (RDNA). The RDNA invented the Druid Sigil in 1963 to be a geometrically simple symbol, yet at the same time - unique. They went through books of symbols to make sure it didn't already exist. The RDNA founders described the Druid Sigil as a symbol for the Earth-Mother, but it is truly devoid of a specific meaning or powers.

In the RDNA, the individual imparts their own meaning into the Sigil, and whatever powers they want it to have if need be. To me the Druid Sigil is a sun wheel, and the two vertical lines represent the Two Tenets of Reformed Druidism. It means something different to everyone, and it is neither ancient Gaulish nor third century anything. The show producers obviously googled “Druid symbols” and that was the extent of their research.

I guess if someone was to make a new show, movie, or other media about druids, I would prefer that it would at least clearly be in the high-fantasy genre if they're going to make them all fanciful magic users, and especially if they're going to be portrayed as bad guys. If the show is trying to be more historically accurate, I'd much prefer that they stick to what's verifiable (though admittedly that's not much). Otherwise yeah, it would be nice sometimes if they used a different term, like sorcerers or warlocks if they're bad guys.

Oh gosh, Warlock! That was a 1989 supernatural horror movie that started a trilogy of gory films. The warlock was a bad guy, and a secret bloodline of druids were the only ones who had a chance of stopping him. The depiction of druids was okay I suppose, and on the plus side they wore plain everyday clothes in the 20th century, 'cause you know it's important to blend in.

See Also:

History of the Druid Sigil

Common Symbols in Druidry

#druids #media #depiction #portrayal #Merlin #Colin Morgan #Heath Ledger #Roar #Lepontic #Runes #Gaulish #Librarians #Symbols #Futhark #Druid Sigil #Triskele #Warlock #Sourcerer

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funkwhistle · 3 years

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Charles fluff please I’m starving,,, maybe with a reader that gets nervous around him,,, 💔

Comforted

Pairing: Charles Smith x GN!Reader

Notes: A little bit of fluff, a little bit of ignoring each other nothing special here matey. Well this is the first time I wrote Charles so that’s exciting?

The fire was warm as you sat beside it, watching Charles bind some new arrows for Arthur as he sat next to you. Sometimes he would dip the tip of the arrow in the top of the flame to melt the wax over the head, and when some of it fell in the fire it would hiss and splutter into a larger flame. When this happened, he wouldn't flinch, unlike you, who eventually moved further from the fire in order not to be set alight by his actions.

He worked so confidently, his focus only on binding the arrow properly, the rest of camp lost around him. He didn't watch Pearson trip and drop the remains of the stew on the floor, nor when Mary-Beth ripped her skirt from catching it on a nearby branch; no, the arrow received his undivided attention.

"Charles!” Arthur came over to the fire, and Charles looked up for the first time since he'd started work, nodding at the pile of arrows by his feet. From where you were sitting, you couldn't hear what they were talking about, but Arthur was sat, looking serious, as he explained something to Charles. Whatever it was obviously shocked Charles, as he even put down the arrow he was working on to listen. Of course, he would listen to Arthur; the pair of you hadn't spoken for nearly a week, after he snapped at you for disrupting his hunting trip.

You never anticipated you'd be invited on one of Charles's elusive hunting trips, he only ever invited his most trusted; and up until this point he'd only begrudgingly brought Arthur. He told you he preferred to hunt alone, leaving him some time to clear his head from the worries of the gang. But you wanted to desperately to learn to hunt like he did, a sixth sense, and Arthur could only teach you so much.

It had taken so much persuasion, that he finally let in, so they pair of you had set off at the crack of dawn this morning, a quiver of freshly made arrows on your back and a canteen of water on your belt. Taima was padding along beside your horse, looking half asleep as you wandered further into the forest.

“We can continue on foot from here,” he said, hushed, as he slipped off Taima's back and loosely looped the reins over a tree stump. Taima looked as bored as ever, used to being left alone in the forest for hours, and she moved to tug at some grass by the stump. Copying Charles, you did the same, and your horse followed his to the patch of grass, munching away happily. He motioned for you to follow him, and the pair of you began to lightly tiptoe through the woodland.

You'd been at this for almost an hour, and all you'd seen was a singular deer, who scampered as a carriage passed by on a nearby road. You were beginning to regret asking to come, your feet ached and your back was so stiff from hiding behind different bushes. Charles, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself, waiting patiently and fiddling with his bow as you moved.

Suddenly, Charles stopped moving, having spotted something. You, however, were too preoccupied with following him that you bumped into him, knocking the both of you onto the floor, damn your nerves about being near him. This was the first time you'd truly seen Charles looking annoyed at you, as you untangled yourself from him and stood back up.

“There was a pack of deer over there,” he hissed, brushing some leaves from his legs. Apologizing, you looked away, worried you'f ruined the trip. Charles moved on however, ignoring you now and focussing solely on finding something to bring back to camp.

As luck would have it, you stumbled upon another pack of deer, and just as Charles was aiming his bow to take the first shot, you shifted your foot slightly; resulting in a twig breaking and the deer spooking away into the forest again. This time he didn't bother to continue, or even speak to you, whistling for Taima and walking away from you.

You hadn't dared to speak to him since then. Knowing hunting was something which held a dear place in his heart, and knowing you'd ruined the day for him gave you reason enough. Although you didn't completely distance yourself, not knowing if he still would speak to you if you attempted to strike up a conversation. The most words you'd exchanged since then were a simple 'thank you' when he passed you a bowl of stew earlier this evening.

Of course, you'd ranted about this to Arthur. The poor man was becoming a sponge for all your problems, and you spent one of your jobs together fretting about what you'd done. Arthur being Arthur had brushed it off as nothing, making a joke about how he had once hit Charles with a branch and broken his nose while out hunting. But this didn't feel the same, Charles and you were relatively new in your relationship, yet you knew that you were rockier than before.

As Charles and Arthur spoke, you could hear glimpses of what you thought to be your name, Arthur kept flashing glances over at you as he spoke. Charles did nothing of the sort however, remaining as stoic as ever, and when Arthur moved away he did not turn to speak to you, just picking up a new arrow and beginning again.

In fact, he did not speak to you for a few more days. When he did, you were sat by the fire, missing Charles, and he sat down behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist without an explanation.

“Sorry,” he whispered in your ear, pressing a delicate kiss onto your shoulder as he got more comfortable. You did not feel the need to say anything, smiling instead as you both stared into the fire, comforted by the heat of him behind you. Occasionally he would shift behind you, peppering the side of your neck and face with kisses, or combing his soft hands through your hair. While you felt like you needed to speak to him about what had happened, for now you were safe and comfortable in his arms, just happy to be close to him again.

The pair of you awoke by the fire in the morning, in a position similar to how you'd last remembered the pair of you sitting, with his face buried in your neck and his hands around your middle. When you blearily opened your eyes, he was still asleep, snoring lightly, so you relaxed back into him, shutting your eyes again in an attempt to make this moment to last a little longer.

A/N: This has taken ages, and it’s not as good as I’d like it to be, but I’ll update it a bit later. But after this I should have a few other fics coming - if you’ve sent me a request it should be coming out soon - I just need to find some pics for a certain one!

#charles smith x reader #charles smith #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption 2 #red dead #rdr2 #rdo #rdr #charles loves his hunting idk what to tell ya #how do i tag again?#dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #hosea mathews #john marston #funkwhistle #anon #request #and thanks to mallr4ts 4 telling me how to tag requests

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harveyb-wabbit92 · 2 years

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Kamen rider Den-o: Paradox lost ch 1.

The following is a non-profit fan-based story, Kamen rider den-o is owned by Toei entertainment please support the official release, I gain no profit nor do I own anything other than OCs and whatever spouts from my imagination!

Note: Nana or Nashi is a singularity, her name short for Nanashi because she doesn't remember her real name, it's lost to her, along with whatever time she originated from, she's a average young lady working as a tobacconist, she was chosen by The Den-liner's Owner to be the Taros new part-time handler, (they scared off the others) also the Taros have evolved and are able to shift into human disguise. They look just like Ryotaro random strangers think they're quintuplets when seen together, with severely different personalities, anyway I digress... This takes place when the Den Liner Taros met Nanashi.

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

Nanashi or Nashi Ono as she's known to friends and those she considers family was stumped by the odd man with the cane who appeared in her shop today, at first it just seemed like another older gentleman looking for cigarettes or Tabaco for his pipe, or cleaning supplies, but he never once came up to the counter or asked for her attention he just browsed the shelves, then stopped to stare at the antique metal tins she had on display. they weren't anything special, just old cigarette cases, candy tins and lunch boxes in the like.

Normally one of the tins catches a customer's eye and they buy it or tell Nashi about their collector friend- Yada yada, This however was new... It's been almost forty minutes now and the guy hasn't moved, not one inch! He just stands there staring at the tins and it was starting to make the shop owner anxious and not just her a few customers had started to notice too... A man offered to scare him off, But Nashi insisted she could handle it herself, after she was finishing up with a customer Nanashi over the man.

"Uh... S-sir do you need somethi-" the old man suddenly pointed his cane at her causing Nashi to instinctively put her hands up. *am I being robbed?* she thought nervously as the man stared at her as if tying to decipher her thoughts before smiling. "Time is a harsh thing is it not miss Ono?" the ravenette stiffened. "It's forgotten you, but at the same time it echoes for you... Strange isn't it?" He hummed putting his cane down Nashi tried to relax but what this man was had her mind swimming. *Time echoes?....* She was about to ask who he was, but the man handed her something, a boarding pass? "Go through any door at this time, I have a proposition for you..." he said before leaving pausing briefly to stare at the lollipop tree by the counter he picked a pudding flavored lollipop; leaving the money on the counter and went on his way.

Nanashi looked down at the pass in her hands than back at the door bemused. She half expected a camera crew to pop out randomly and say she was the latest victim of a prank show... But that thought was squashed when the ravenette suddenly felt like she was punch in the gut, she gasped saw sand spilling out of her clothes... *Oh hell no...Not again, Get the hell out!!"* she hissed forcibly throwing out whatever the heck tried to enter her body! "What the!?!" she looked a saw a weird sand blob with a light in the middle, she feel the thing looking at her stunned "What did you do, how did you rej-" It wasn't able to finish that sentence as Nanashi grabbed a broom and started swinging.

"You damn dusty bastard!"

"wha-what?"

"I just cleaned that floor!"

"Now wait a mi-"

The ravenette was not having it! she chased the blob thing out of her shop, the thing hissed at her as she took a swiped at it. "I'll be back!" the it vowed enraged and turned into a light orb a flew off, Nanashi just clicked her tongue and went to clean up the mess the sand thing had made, when the time on the ticket had rolled on by; Nanashi had locked up her shop, and cautiously reached for the door leading upstairs, the ravenette wasn't expecting anything to happen, but to her utter shock she was greeted by a white sandy desert and a train just sitting there like it was waiting for her... Nanashi eyes widened in shock as she looked outside the door to see her shop then looked behind her at the train, unsure of what she should do?

The was swishing sound as a door opened on the side of the train, a waitress stepped out and greeted Nanashi. "Nanashi-chan?" the ravenette nodded as the woman smiled. "Hello. I'm Naomi, please follow me, the owner is expecting you." She helped Nanashi onto the train while the shorter woman was utterly flabbergasted, the owner was expecting her? "I don't understand" she soon did when Naomi led to the dinning car where the old man from her shop was sitting, along with these odd humanoid creatures that seemed annoyed at the ravenette's presence, she thought she heard the red that reminded her of an oni mumbling to the blue one. "Great another one..." but the blue shushed him as he noticed her briefly glance in their direction.

The large yellow one was sleeping while the purple one was drawing something Nanashi couldn't really make out, she nervously made her way over to the owner feeling the humanoid's eyes on her as she passed them only to trip on the sleep one's foot, Nanashi let out a tiny squeak as the yellow imagin's arm caught her by the front of her hoodie stopping the ravenette from face planting, it took everything in her not to smack him as he hastily removed his hand. "s-soft?..." he faintly muttered clearly bemused as Nanashi finally reached the old man he was finishing up a plate of fried rice.

"Um...hello?" She greeted as there was awkward pause as the oni snapped. "HE ISN'T GONN-" Only to be cut off by the owner happily speaking. "I'm happy to see you made it Nanashi." he gestured for her to sit down then turned to the oni "Momotaros please be more kind to them, after all Nanashi is to be your new handler if they so choose." Nanashi giggled upon hearing the Oni's name that seemed agitate Momotaros more. "Hah? this one has a choice, how come the others didn't. what make this guy so special?" he huffed the ravenette was about to say that she was a woman, but was soon ganged up on by Momotaros , blue and purple.

they were complaining to the Owner that they didn't need a handler and how can they do their jobs, while babysitting this brat? "You said they had a choice, right?," Momotaros pointed out then turned to Nanashi. "Oi! Nameless fool say you wanna get off! this it no place for you!." putting his hand on the human's shoulder Nanashi turned to look at him. "Excuse me?" the oni didn't seemed to realize just how much he screwed up. "You heard me, we've got no time to look after y-YEEEEEE!" He was horrified when Nanashi suddenly caught his arm and got him into a joint lock, Momotaros yelped and started howling in pain and begging to be let go. "Apologize right now and I will let you go!" The irritated human hissed; But Momotaros sure was stubborn one, Nana had him in that lock for fifteen minutes, before Naomi who hadn't noticed or was just ignoring the commotion tripped and spilt coffee all over the two, most of it getting on Nanashi, immediately the waitress jumped to her feet panicking as she helped Nanashi up.

"Oh I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine."

"No no come with me!"

"Wait you don't hav-"

Naomi was already dragging Nanashi out of the dining car to the bath car she mentioned having some spare clothes for her, while Momotaros was laying on the floor very thrown off by what just happened, *"That brat...."* {cue mini flash back: Nanashi saw the coffee cups coming down on them, without any regard for their own safety Nanashi covered Momotaros with their body, protecting him from the hot coffee and mugs hitting him, it obviously hurt, the imagin saw them wince, before the oni could say anything Naomi had sprung into action! frantically whisking the shrimp off to safety...* Momotaros growled in annoyance as Urataros helped him up, after checking the Oni over he noticed how agitated his sempai was and was going to ask what was wrong? when they all felt their metaphorical hair stand on edge there was an Imagin rampaging around! Momotaros chuckled to himself at least now he has something to take his anger out on...

(Fyi: they don't know Nanashi is a girl yet... Well Kintaros does since he accidentally copped a feel catching her mid trip.}

While Momotaros was busy finding the Imagin, Nanashi winced as Naomi rubbed aloe on the back of her neck and right shoulder, where she gotten burn from the coffee incident {Momotaros liked his coffee insanely hot!}, the Waitress dressed the burn with a bandage, The ravenette pulled a gray cardigan over a red dress and black tights, it apparently belonged to someone named Hana, but she's been returned to her original timeline, Nanami hummed mildly intrigued before being handed a belt as soon as she was cleaned up and done getting dressed.

Naomi explained how the belt works just put it on and swipe her pass over the scanner and then select a form from the buttons! simple enough, Nanashi hopped from Den liner and she put the belt on and did what Naomi instructed she swiped the pass over the scanner. "Henshin." Nanashi said dully in a flash of light was in the Den-O's Plat form.

(there are no alterations, it looks the same as it does in the series)

The ravenette hummed curiously examining her arms before hearing a familiar annoying voice roared "WHAT THE HELLLL????!!!!" Nanashi flinched a little as she looked behind her to see a peeved off Momotaros stomping his feet as he saw, that the short human was now Den-O! But before he could say anything else Owner intervened there was low conversation between the odd man and the oni imagin, whatever the owner was saying scared Momotaros cos the imagin suddenly changed his tune, The imagin begrudgingly made his way over to Nanashi and silently pressed the red button on the belt. {Sword form} in a red flash Momotaros had disappeared and the rider suit had change into it's first form. *whoa... I'm having a serious case of Deja-vu!* she exclaimed as Momotaros tried to say his catch phrase.

"Deja....Vu!"

*what?*

"Dammit, .....Ore Sanjou! Y-you screwed me up!"

*Yeah, can we just beat this... what is that a cat with an ice-cream cone?*

Nanashi observed the hostile Imagin bemused trying to decipher what kind of animal it was, Momotaros just snapped at the human to be quiet so he could focus! "You feel weird! why's yer chest so dang heavy?" he hissed dodging the cat imagin's lance/whip weapon while awkwardly trying to figure out what was weighing in on his front. "Nyaa! Sit still you dang traitor!" it hissed as Momotaros assembled his weapon but suddenly froze before he could swing, the oni was shocked as Nanashi easily stopped his control."*hold on...I know that voice.* it was then the ravenette knew who this cat was.

"You dust barfin' bastard!" Nanashi snarled as she pointed an accusatory finger at it. "w-What/nyah?" Both Momotaros and the cat stammered baffled by the human's sudden outburst. *Wha-what are you doing, put me back in control!* Momotaros demanded, but Nashi was in the red-zone and was out for bloo...Sand!

With out warning Nanashi rushed the cat who in turn slashed at Den-o! but the kamen rider dodge the strike and just started randomly swinging their sword at the imagin getting a few good hits in before Momotaros took back control. "You done?," He inquired cocking a brow the human just huffed. "Good!" he turned his attention back to the weakened cat Imagin. "Get ready for my Hissatsu..." he swiped the Den-Pass over the scanner. [Full-charge.] "...part 3!" he loudly proclaimed swinging his sword around slashing the cat with every swing before going for the grand finale. and with that Momotaros left Nanashi's body the woman went to apologize for loosing her cool! but the oni was gone before she could take the belt off.

When Nanashi returned to the Den-Liner she overheard Momotaros loudly complaining about "the brat acting all bullheaded and brash on the field!" she heard the other Imagin snickering "My doesn't that sound familiar..." Urataros muttered to Ryuutaros who stared to giggle further setting off the Oni. "It's not funny damn it! I'm gonna kick his ass!" he huffed as Kintaros awkward spoke up "I think we need approach this differently... A solution, one that doesn't involve violence!" the others looked at the bear inquisitively." And why's that?" Ryuutaros pressed Kintaros started to panic.

"W-well it's just... Nanashi isn't like the others." his brothers leaned in close not getting what the yellow imagin was trying to say. "What are you talking about?" Urataros eyes narrowed Kintaros started sweating nervously. " ...Well f-for starters he's...a she." He said warily his brothers looked at Kintaros as if he'd turned pink and grew three heads, Nanashi took that as her cue and walked into the dining car, Momo, Uru and Ryuu concurrently turned their heads in her direction, jaws dropped as Nanashi leaned on the counter.

"Yo." the ravenette greeted as Urataros pulled himself together, immediately tried pull his charms on her. "Well well my little sea Anemone, you certainly fooled us." Nanashi's lip twitched as the turtle continued. "I'd certainly loved to learn about you other talents ..." before he could say anything else Nanashi burst out laughing. "he..s-Sorry, you remind me too much of my little brother, good try though. Boop!" she tapped him on the nose Urataros's body seem turned to stone, Ryuutaros laughed at him while Kintaros awkwardly offered him a tissue.

Nanashi walked passed the stunned turtle and calmly made her way towards Momotaros who was still gawking at her. "wh-What do you want?" he stammered the woman cocked a brow as she looked the oni up and down with an unreadable expression. "About earlier...did any of that spill on you?" Momotaros was taken aback her question before he noticed the burn her neck, guilt slowly weaseled it's way into Momotaros's conscious as his gaze met her gray eyes. "No." he huffed as the ravenette looked relieved. "well that's good or whatever..." Then Nanashi suddenly flick him on the forehead causing him to yelp.

"Yeow! what're you doin?"

"That's for calling me a nameless fool!"

"What...you!"

"It's not 'you" either, It's Nanashi. And you better remember it, cuz' you'll being seeing a lot of me from now on!"

The Taros were confused as the ravenette's stop came up, before realizing what Owner had said about Nanashi, She had a choice in all this and it seems she's chosen. Momotaros bit his tongue as much as he wanted the woman gone, but a part of him was still reeling over the fact that she overrode his control so easily, no one should be able to do that except for... "She's a singularity, and I'm moron." Momotaros said in realization as the Owner spoke up. "Yes and very special one at that," Momotaros looked at the old man expectantly but he just said. "You'll find out soon, very soon..." with that Owner returned to the sleeping car leaving the Taros wondering what The owner meant by that?

Meanwhile Nanashi was changed out of the clothes Naomi had lent her and changed into her pj's getting ready for bed, however before she could turn out the lights, the doorbell was rung, the tired woman's brows furrowed as she looked at the time it was almost midnight! Nanashi nervously made her way downstairs, where she open the door to be greeted by feathers? yes there were fluffy white feathers falling from the sky like snow before this strange Imagin appeared in front of her bowing.

"Good evening my lady, My apologize for the lateness, I couldn't help but notice the sign in your window." Nanashi looked over and saw the [Apt for rent] sign on her shop's window. "what about it? um.." the bird imagin seemed to realize he hadn't introduced himself yet. "How rude of me, I am Sieg and I wish to lodge here." it took a moment for Nashi figure what this... what is he a dove? was saying. "lod...oh you want to rent the room? okay!" the white imagin seemed jubilant that he had a place to live. "Thank my ladyship! I promise I won't be a bother!" Nashi took this with a grain of salt wondering just what the hell did she get herself into?

#kamen rider den o #kamen rider #kamen rider fanfiction #momotaros #momotaros x oc #monster x human #urataros #kintaros #ryuutaros #sieg

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sweatergirlsposts · 4 years

Text

Imagine Nancy Trying To Find You After The Events at The Star Court Mall

Title: My Savior

Pairing: Nancy Wheeler x Fem Plus-Size!Reader

Request By: @soggy-enchilada

Warning: Mention of Blood and little angst

Worry is all that flooded Nancy’s mind.

The disappearance of so many people, due to the events at Start Court Mall, made the town distraught as they tried to find their loved ones. So many were consumed and flayed to make the body mass of the mindflayer. Nancy knew that everyone in her family was safe as they went back home after the event of that night but there was one person she was fretting over. You.

You, her axe wielding outdoorsy rescuer who she secretly was smitten for. When Johnathan and Nancy went out looking for Barb and Will, you had been in the area. You were collecting wood for your hidden cottage when you felt yourself being watched. Dropping the forgotten kindling on the forest floor, you held you axe in hand to protect you from whatever unknown that was in the forest.

“NANCY!”

“JOHNATHAN!”

You heard screams coming from not too far away.

‘What the hell are people doing out so late in the forest?!’ you thought. At least you knew the forest like the back of your hand, unlike the locals who were out here with you. Still being cautious about whatever was watching, you followed the sound of the screams holding your axe ready to attack.

You found the boy first. Slightly lanky in posture, bowl cut hair, adorned in a black jean jacket and flashlight in hand. A foul smell lingered in the air of similar odor to decaying animal flesh. You noted the smell earlier when you first ventured into the woods that night but never thought to go investigate. The smell was the strongest here.

“Nancy?” the boy called out getting on all fours in front of a tree. You observed from behind a tree close by, wondering why he was talking to the stump part of the tree. Not to seconds later you could see a hand emerge from the stump, making the boy jump backwards. From your view from behind a substantial tree, it scared you half to death to see a slimy small human hand emerge from the tree. You crouch down in the wilderness, slowly making your way closer to what’s happening. You wanted to be close enough if you had to step in but far enough to be able to run away.

“JOHNATHAN!” a voice screamed coming from the tree. Johnathan, you assumed, responded immediately after being startled by the hand before calling out to the voice.

“Nancy!?” Johnathan scrambled to reach for the hand popping out of tree and started pulling like he was in a game of tug-o-war. Pulling with all his might, he dragged her out from the slimy abyss in the tree, and she landed on top of his form.

Thinking that she was free, Nancy let out a long held frightened sigh at what just happened to her. Where did she go? What was that thing?! Flooded her shaken mind. All that mattered was that she was out of there and was now safe.......or so she thought.

Gone without notice to the locals, except you, materialized an appendage of some sort that reached through the flesh veiled cavity. What looked to be a clawed hand unfurled from the form of a fist and seized the teenage girl by the foot.

‘It’s got me,’ is the only singular thought that popped into Nancy’s brain as she felt her heart drop to the bottom of her toes where the creature had a grasp on her and tugged. Nancy let out a yelp as she felt herself being tugged backwards towards the hole, startling Johnathan. It took him a couple of seconds to realize until he felt Nancy being pulled off of him.

“Hold on Nance!” Johnathan clambered back onto his feet before grabbing under her arms and tugged back. The creature was strong and Johnathan could feel his feet starting to give out beneath him.

“Don’t let me go!”

“I won’t!”

It was now or never you thought. You let the creature get to the locals or you help out. You chose the latter. You ran from behind your new hiding spot behind a fallen tree, axe glistening in the moonlight, ready to help the locals.

Too focused on the monster grabbing Nancy’s leg, neither Johnathan and Nancy noticed your incoming approach. Johnathan gave one massive tug, exposing the arm further out from the decaying hole.

You wound up for the swing, axe coming from directly behind your head down onto the creatures extremity. Clean cut to the bone off came whatever limb that tried to grab the poor girls leg. Thank god you had sharpened your axe that morning.

The creature let out a haunting shriek feeling the detachment of it’s limb to it’s body and retreated the rest of the limb back to through the flesh veil.

You looked at where the girl was pulled out of. It was some type of fleshly decaying hole that was closing as to be no longer used and revert back into the bark and wood it originally was.

The detached hand laid limp on the ground. You bring the axe down one more time to make sure that it wouldn’t suddenly start moving. You had seen John Carpenter’s ‘The Thing’ too many times to know to always make sure it was really dead. You could feel small splotches of blood from the creature on your round cheeks as if they were supposed to be freckles.

You took a couple of breaths trying to calm down from the sudden adrenaline rush before turning to the two horrified teenagers still on the ground.

You dropped the axe to the side to make yourself less intimidating to them and spoke, “What the hell are you guys doing out here?”

“We could ask you the same,” spoke Johnathan.

“I live out here,” you stopped before offering each of them a hand. They looked at each other and then decided to take your hand. Johnathan got up with your help fine, but Nancy stumbled into your stocky form.

“Woah there, you’re probably feeling some effects of shock...” you trailed off trying to get a name from the girl

“Nancy, and this is Johnathan,” she motioned to Johnathan behind her as she moved back from you regaining her footing, “How did you find us?”

“Well when your screaming bloody murder it’s not that hard to find someone. You guys had let the whole forest know you’re out here. You guys should come with me if you want to survive the night out here,” you warned them.

Nancy could feel the genuineness in your words, after all you just saved her from that thing. Nancy was about to take a step forward to follow you, but Johnathan held out an arm to stop her.

“Wait. Why should we go with you?” Johnathan sized you up, trying to tell if you had other intentions. You didn’t like when people would give you once overs, especially after you save their life.

“Do I need to remind you that I just saved you and your friend here,” you scoffed, “besides I know the forest like the back of my hand. I can show you back wherever you came from in the morning, it’s too dangerous to go now. I have a cottage that’s a five minute walk from here, but it’s fine by me if you get lost. I was just trying to help,” you picked up your axe and rotated to the walking direction of your cabin.

“Wait we’re coming,” Nancy spoke up gathering her bearings and grabbing Johnathan by the arm and dragging him along.

Nancy was thankful that she followed back to your cottage instead of getting lost that night in the woods. Over the next two years, Nancy would visit once a week. Being saved from a monster can really bond two people together.

A lot of the time she would help tend to the greenery placed in your cottage. You had an affinity for growing plants, flowers, and natural herbs in your house. In addition to your indoor plants, you kept a small self built green house in the back where you held all your vegetables and fruits. In the spring and summer, elegant colourful flowers would surround your property like it had came straight out of a fairy-tale.

Being around you was very calming, Nancy thought in comparison to the monster hunting life, it was peaceful almost. She could see why you liked living here in the woods.

You told her that your parents had home schooled you in the cabin up until last year when they had their ‘car accident’. There was two reasons why you stayed out of suburban Hawkins and lived in the forest you told her. You stayed because it’s your parents house and it was the only thing you had let of them and you don’t think that Hawkins would be very accepting of you per say.

You waited a year of knowing Nancy, before you officially told her of your liking towards the same sex. Instead of revolting away in disgust or showing if she uncomfortable, she sat there shocked, not in a bad way but just in surprise. You told that she wouldn’t have to worry about you liking her or any of the sort, you told her that you just wanted to get it off your chest.

It might have stopped your crush from ever growing bigger than it already was on Nancy but it didn’t stop hers. Yes she might have went out with Steve and Johnathan, and liked being with them, but that didn’t stop from hiding her curiosity towards you.

Nancy was worried when she hadn't heard from you in the days leading up to the battle of Star Court, but she was so caught up in everything that she didn’t have time to make a trip out to you in the forest. When she learned that Brimborn Steel Works, the breeding ground for the mind-flayer was near your property, she hopped into her mom’s station wagon and sped to your property, giving no regard for the speed limit on the road.

Pulling up onto the dirt road path that lead up to your house, she spotted your red Chevy LUV pickup at the side of the cottage in it’s usual spot. That meant one of two things to Nancy. You were either inside live and well tending to your plants or not inside at all and had been taken by Billy Hargrove to be used by-

Nancy didn’t even want to think of the possibility of you being dead.

Nancy pulled on the sleeves of the sweater she wore. It was actually your sweater. You gave her the sweater that night as something temporary to use for clothing instead of wearing the mucus-caked one’s she had on. It was a bit big on her petite form but kept her warm nonetheless. She never really gave it back, but you didn’t mind her wearing it. It looked better on her, you’d believe as you’d try to suppress a smile.

Nancy got out of the and took notice that the flowers had been wilting while some had died and looked to be rotted.....just like the pumpkins on the Wright farm pumpkin patch last year.

Nance could feel the spike of fear stabbing her heart and rushed over to your front door banging on it to see if you were home.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)” Nancy shouted still pounding of the door.

No use. Nance went to the side window where your bedroom was. Everything looked still and untouched in your bedroom. On the inside window sill sat the small fern plant that Nancy had bought you for your birthday a couple months ago. The fern was no longer a bright and lively green but now shriveled and looking ready to turn to dust.

Nancy went back to your front door and tried banging again. No answer. You would have answered though. The only people that visited you were her and Johnathan.

‘No answer, wilted flowers, dead fern, untouched room, no answer, rotten flowers, dead fern, untouched room’

Nancy collapsed to the ground knowing the worst happened.

It got you.

Quiet sobs racked her form as she felt her heart rip string by string. She lost her savior.

You had just finished cutting down logs for the day in the forest. Wheelbarrowing them back to the cottage, you noticed Nancy’s mom’s station wagon on your dirt path. You put the wheelbarrow down and jogged down the path to your cottage.

You were so worried about Nancy(more than anyone) and everyone especially since the steel works was on your way to town and you knew that that thing was there. You didn’t want to risk going into town if it meant risking your life against that abomination. You guess that they took care of it if that meant Nancy is here.

You looked at your porch as you jogged to your cottage and notice a petite form, one that you could recognize anywhere, curled in a ball on it.

“NANCY!” you shouted still jogging over, “NANCY!”

She heard her name and lifted her head. There you were, coming over like a dream that she made up in her head to console her about your death. But you were too real for her to be imagining right then. She wiped the tear tracks from her face and then clambered to get up and run to you.

Nancy ran into you not wasting any second longer to be consoled by you in your comforting soft arms.

“I thought you were dead!” Nancy cried into strong shoulder, hugging you, “Please don’t ever scare me like that (Y/N)! I can’t loose you”

“Hey, hey it’s alright Nancy Drew. I’m here, I’m alive” you pressed a comforting kiss against her forehead.

“But but the flowers! You didn’t answer, I thought they took you,” Nancy whimpered still in slight hysterics.

“Nance everything is okay, well maybe not the flowers, but I’m fine. I was just out chopping wood. I had to make some of the flowers wilt in case anyone came around and thought I was here and take me. But hey, I’m not going anywhere,” you leaned your forehead against hers

“Promise?”

“What kind of savior would I be?”.

MASTERLIST

#nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler imagine #nancy wheeler imagines #nancy wheeler oneshot #stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things season 3 #stranger things season 1 #stranger things x reader #nancy wheeler x fem!reader #nancy wheeler x plus-size!reader #nancy wheeler x plus size!reader #nancy wheeler x plussize!reader #x reader #reader #imagines

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caprimulgiblog · 3 years

Photo

These are 2 great examples of potoo “nests”. That is, they really aren’t much of a nest at all, but an indentation in tree branch, stump, etc. (basically anything woody) that is just big enough to fit one (1) singular egg. Luckily, potoos only lay one egg at a time.

Potoo parents will hide the egg underneath their feathers, and do the same with their chick once it hatches.

Naturally this gets more difficult as the chick gets bigger and bigger, but it does result in some really cute pictures :)

#birds #potoo #potoo bird #nesting #chick #common potoo #Nyctibius griseus #Nyctibiidae #Caprimulgiformes

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helena-thessaloniki · 3 years

Text

There are too many stars.

AoT/SnK. Rivamika drabble. Canon-verse. No spoilers.

Roaring laughter, drunken shouts; their individual voices are indistinguishable. She used to stay closer, linger for longer, as if the shared excitement and raucous energy were contagions that might infect her, too. It never did—never does. Now, she sits on a felled tree, the trunk wide enough to be reasonably comfortable, and their mirth is simply background noise that floats by her.

The destruction from earlier has at least one advantage—an unhindered view. Fleeing Titans decimated this portion of the forest, leaving behind smashed trees and trampled bushes in their dead-or-dying wake. Lingering with the scent of pine and damp soil is also the distinct metallic aroma of blood. At least the cool breeze carries it in the opposite direction.

Mikasa looks ahead, watching the glint of moonlight on jagged stone, debating whether or not it’d be worthwhile to leave her stump and find a spot on the cliff’s edge. Sore limbs and a few fractured ribs keep her rooted in place.

Her celebrating comrades must start to sing; the cacophony of noise merges into a more singular sound. She reconsiders the hard stone ahead to further escape their merry-making, but first tries looking upward for a distraction.

Hundreds – thousands? – of silvery pinpricks of light decorate the large expanse of a black night. Without a single cloud to block them, the stars appear omnipresent. Her neck craned, Mikasa starts to count them.

One, two, three, four, five, six— better to count than wonder what song they’re singing, of who else would be singing if they were still alive, too— seven, eight, nine.

There are too many stars. That’s the last errant thought Mikasa entertains before an interruption comes in the form of snapping twigs and approaching footfall. She doesn’t turn, but she doesn’t need to: the careful, methodical steps are not the sound of someone who can’t help but be heard, but one who could be quiet yet chooses to make their presence known. Levi.

She relaxes her posture, chin dipping downward to stare directly ahead. There’s something too whimsical, vulnerable even, about being caught admiring the stars. He stops several feet behind her.

“Need something?” Not as light and airy as she intended. Oh well.

Levi takes the next few steps closer. Looming over her, he blocks the gleaming light and casts a dark shadow over her outstretched legs. She watches the shape of it, expecting his sarcasm in response, or maybe some taciturn remark on bullshit chores that need to be done.

“No.” It’s just one syllable, but it’s clipped— almost disciplinary.

This causes her to look over. He’s still in uniform, starch white linen shirt only half-tucked, wrinkled and splattered with blood. Suspenders loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows. She starts to wonder why he spent the time neatly folding his sleeves instead of putting on a clean shirt, but then stops. The leather-wrapped metal flask in his pale, lithe fingers captures her intention instead.

He notices. Levi settles himself into the spot beside her, a mild look of disdain on the circumstances of sharp bark and dirt as her chosen seating option. There’s at least a foot between them, but alone in the dark of the near-empty forest clearing, it feels too close.

Without looking to her, Levi offers the flask.

Mikasa frowns at it.

Her lack of movement and disconcerted response causes him to lift a bored brow, half-turning toward her.

Her nose twitches. “You might have noticed. I’m not in the celebratory mood.”

He grunts—a hoarse, dry sound from the base of his throat. “Then don’t celebrate. Mourn.”

Her eyes widen some, glancing from the lifted flask to his steel-shaded eyes, then back to the liquor again. If there’s still laughter and singing behind them, she can barely hear it. After several seconds that stretch on for far too long, she takes it from him— determinedly, with unnecessary vigor. Mourning does feel more fitting of her current mood.

It’s not until she flicks open the stopper and gets a whiff of strong whiskey that she realizes that mourning might be what he’s being doing, too. After taking a long swig of the burning liquor, choking back a reflexive cough, she turns to him.

“Why are you mourning?” Mikasa asks, her tone deceptively flat. But curiosity shimmers within her calculative stare, unable to be hidden beneath blinking lids or long lashes.

“Why aren’t you celebrating?” He challenges instead, terse and disinterested all at the same time.

This isn’t her first drink of the night. She may not have participated in all of the revelries, but she did drain several glasses of ale before making an unannounced departure. Perhaps it’s the drunkenness that makes her honest. Perhaps it’s something else.

“Sort of a strange concept, to celebrate winning a battle. Win or lose, we’re still at war. There’s nothing about war worth celebrating.”

Levi says nothing, but she knows he’s paying attention when she goes to return the flask and he is ready for it. When he drinks, he doesn’t cough.

“Not sure there’s much difference between celebrating and mourning,” Levi says eventually.

Recent years in close proximity to him, whether sparring or strategizing, has honed her auditory senses. There’s the blithe remarks of an unforgiveable instructor, rigid-but-willing-to-bend tilt in his tone if he’s thoughtful, and quiet, lethal words when he’s angered. Rarer are the words spoken like this: hard but somber, reserved for when he’s uncertain. She thinks she might be one of the few who’s privileged to hear it.

She glances sideways at him. “What makes you say that?”

He rolls one of his shoulders, a half-hearted shrug, and offers the flask again. “Both are trying to forget.”

Mikasa’s hand stalls in its reach, caught in mid-air for a half a moment before belatedly landing atop the flask. Still paused, her calloused fingers linger over his scarred ones. Now he looks to her openly, willingly.

The countless stars and nearly full moon cast silver light into his gray orbs, illuminating the look inside of them— surprised, but not disinterested. She relaxes her fingers further, the pads of her rough fingertips stretching over the top of his hand. She watches him carefully as she does it, noting the pinpricks of silver against steel in each iris.

No, she observes. No, not disinterested.

“Maybe,” she says, stalling to take single ownership of the flask. “But there are some things I don’t want to forget.”

His grip on the flask tightens, gaze unwavering even when the fringe of ink-black hair shifts to partially block his view. They both know she’s strong enough that she could wrench the flask from him if she wanted to.

She doesn’t want to.

“Some things.” Levi says it like it’s meant to be a repetition of her words, her tone; maybe she’s also one of the few who can hear it’s actually a question.

Mikasa holds onto the flask, holds firmly onto his hand. She swallows, she shrugs, and her words are almost straightforward. “Some things. Some one.”

You. Her lavender-dusted eyes must be illuminated, too. She looks to him unabashedly, aware that in the same manner she’s become gifted at hearing him, he must be skilled in seeing her. Despite it all, I don’t want to forget you.

It’s hard to tell which one of them it is who guides their arms downward, their nearly clasped hands resting on the tree trunk in the space between them. Another unnaturally long moment stretches onward. Like she counted the stars, Mikasa counts the rapid beats of her heart. One, two, three, four.

Levi turns outward, but she watches his chapped lips curve into a distinct smirk.

“Tch.” The signature sound, but lighter— amused? Content?

Mikasa prepares for disappointment when he loosens his grip beneath her, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. Instead, his fingers shift to fit between hers, a more deliberate alignment. The flask remains, now only an excuse for touch. She bites her bottom lip to prevent the emergence of a girlish grin as she turns outward, too.

His hand is strong, warm. Familiar from so many other moments, but none of them like this. His scarred fingers move against hers, slow and exploratory. For several second she forgets to breathe.

Then Mikasa returns her vision to the nighttime sky — this time, unashamed to bask in the glow of starlight.

Find me on Ao3: helena3190.

#rivamika #rivamika fanfic #rivamika drabble #lena writes

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umbry-fic · 3 years

Text

The Revenge Plot

Summary: On a lazy afternoon, Lloyd hatches a scheme to prank Raine. Genis gets pulled in against his will. Colette is just happily along for the ride.

Will Raine figure it out? Will the three succeed?

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Colette Brunel, Lloyd Irving, Genis Sage, Raine Sage Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving & Genis Sage, Genis Sage & Raine Sage Rating: G Word Count: 4712 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 01/04/2021

Notes: A fun little gen fic for April Fool's Day featuring the Iselia trio!

~~~

“We would have tricked Professor Raine and gotten our revenge at the same time!” Lloyd finished. His voice, the scratching of a singular pen nib against paper, the occasional flap of pages turning and the creaking of his chair were the only sounds filling the quiet classroom.

The three of them, Lloyd, Genis and Colette, were the only ones still left in the Iselia Schoolhouse. The sun was setting, casting the entire room in different shades of muted reds and oranges. The shadows cast by the trees outside the windows stretched across the desks, resembling gnarly, bent fingers that shifted. Lloyd and Colette were scrambling to finish the homework that was due tomorrow and had agreed to stay back in the classroom after school to finish it. Genis had no reason to stay. He’d finished the next two week’s worth of homework.

Genis had crossed his arms and claimed he wanted to do supplementary exercises. So he would be staying as well!

Much to Genis’ relief, the two of them hadn’t tried to refute this reason. If they had, Genis would have shot back with an excuse of pitying the two of them for not having the tenacity to even finish one page of exercises. That would have been enough to shut them up. Hopefully. That was the plan, at least.

Colette nodded eagerly, gaze fixed on Lloyd and chin nestled on her palm, having long given up on actually doing her math homework. The textbook on her table had been opened to the page of multiplication practices for the last ten minutes. Not a single word had been written on it, her pen instead laying uncapped next to it, having left a trail of ink down its side. The time had instead been spent raptly listening to Lloyd while experiencing a growing sense of awe, eyes widening as he went through his plan. It sounded smart! Who would have thought?

Genis, on the other hand, had his head buried in his textbook and was doing his best to ignore Lloyd’s continuous talking, pen scribbling down equation after equation. But he couldn’t tune it out completely, and it was starting to get very annoying.

Lloyd, who was sitting in his chair backwards so he was facing his friends, arms hugging the backrest and legs swinging in the air, grinned. “So? What do you think, Genis?”

With an annoyed huff, Genis loudly snapped his textbook closed and slammed it upright on the desk, glaring at Lloyd over it. “I’ve only been half-listening to your mindless yammering and even then I can tell your plan is ridiculous. You should be doing your homework, not being a distraction! Do you want to get detention tomorrow?”

Lloyd winced at the thought of spending a beautiful sunny afternoon trapped in here again, writing “I’m sorry” over and over on the blackboard until his fingers were completely smudged white with chalk and so raw he thought they might bleed. It would be great if he never had to go through that again for the rest of his life.

“I couldn’t focus. It’s not my fault all of the math questions are impossible.” Lloyd pouted, starting to rock the chair on its legs. Colette worried, with how far back Lloyd was tipping the chair, that he might just fall over. “So I came up with this instead.”

Genis groaned, resisting the urge to chuck the textbook at Lloyd’s head. He would leave the physical violence to his sister. “If you can come up with such a ridiculous prank, you have the time to finish your homework.”

“I was asking you what you thought of it! You still haven’t answered.”

“I think it’s quite good!” Colette spoke up. “But Lloyd, your -”

“Explain to me exactly how you’re going to clear this classroom of students on a school day?” Genis asked smugly, interrupting Colette’s attempt to warn Lloyd of his dangerous chair rocking behaviour. He could bet Lloyd hadn’t thought of that. This should be enough to stump Lloyd and get him to rethink pulling a prank on Raine. Why was he even trying to do that anyway? Was he asking for death?

“That’s where you come in, Genis,” Lloyd replied, stretching his arm out to point straight at Genis’ face. Genis gaped. What? Himself? How did he even play into this idiotic scheme?

“You get to go around town the night before telling everyone that school’s off the next day. You’re Professor Raine’s brother, so everyone will believe you!”

“I - H - how did you even come up with that?” Genis was at a loss for words. The worst thing was that Lloyd’s idea made sense. What had the world come to for such a miracle to occur?

Did Lloyd have a brain somewhere in that ridiculously thick skull of his?

“Dunno, just thought of it,” Lloyd said nonchalantly, further rendering Genis speechless. Just thought of it??? “So, you in?”

“No!” Genis protested. “Do whatever you want, but I’m not pranking my sister!” He wasn’t insane enough to agree to this. If they pulled this off, what would Raine do in retaliation? Make Lloyd carry four buckets of water instead of two? A week’s worth of detention? Make him sleep in the dark? Just the thought of it was enough to make him want to cower.

The smile on Lloyd’s face wasn’t dropping, however. It was unnerving. Did Lloyd still think he could be convinced? How?

“Then you leave me no choice.” Lloyd tipped the chair towards Genis, leaning closer over the desk. Genis scooted his chair back, attempting to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. “I invoke the sports meet. You remember, don’t you?”

Colette cringed at the increasingly loud creaking sounds coming from the chair, the harsh sound almost deafening to her. Did the other two not notice it? Were they too engrossed in their conversation? Was that a crack running down one of the chair legs?!!

“The sports… meet...” Genis trailed off as realisation hit him like a lightning strike.

Every year, at the insistence of the mayor, the school held a sports meet where the students were divided into two groups and pitted against each other in various activities. It was sweaty, loud, competitive, and Genis hated it with a passion. Every student needed to be assigned at least one activity, and no matter how many times he had pleaded with his sister, she had refused to budge on the matter. School regulations were school regulations, she had said, and what kind of school teacher would she be if she let him off easy just for being her brother?

After three years of embarrassing himself and letting the whole world know of his absolute lack of athletic abilities, he had grown tired of it. At last month’s edition of the annual sports meet, he had brokered a deal with Lloyd - take his spot at the 100-metre sprint, and Lloyd could have one favour, any favour.

Thank the Goddess Raine hadn’t noticed anything amiss. Either that, or she had chosen to stay silent.

“You’re using your favour for this?” Genis spluttered, starting to panic. “I thought you were going to ask me to do your homework for a week or something!”

To be honest, Genis had completely forgotten he’d ever made that promise. He had expected Lloyd to call in his favour within a day, but there had been complete silence from Lloyd’s end over this matter. For it to return now, of all times, to bite him in the back…

“A promise is a promise. Right, Genis?”

Genis remained silent. There was no way to refute that statement. He had, indeed, made that promise. And Raine had always told him, since young, to never renege on them.

Lloyd had, for once, well and truly cornered him. Had he planned this all along?

No, it couldn’t be. Genis refused to believe it. Lloyd wasn’t smart enough to play that long of a game. It was just a lucky coincidence.

Lloyd grinned, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head, causing the chair’s front two legs to come off the floor. “So I guess that’s settled! It's a great opportunity to get Professor Raine to loosen up a little! We’ll deal with the details some other time. As for the tomatoes, Colette, can you borrow some from your grandmother’s garden?”

Colette nodded, frowning at what she was very certain was a crack on the chair’s leg. “I can ask Grandma; she’d probably give some to me without asking any questions. But Lloyd, you should stop rocking your chair.”

Lloyd blinked at Colette in confusion, cocking his head. “Huh? Why -”

A resounding “crack” echoed throughout the classroom as one of the chair’s legs split in half in an explosion of wood splinters, pitching the chair to the side and throwing Lloyd onto the floor.

“Lloyd!” Colette cried in worry, running over and kneeling next to the groaning boy on the floor. “Are you alright? Does it hurt? Are you bleeding? Do I…"

Genis paid no attention to any of this, sinking down in his seat and putting his head in his hands. He was embroiled in this ridiculous scheme now, definitely for the worst. He could only hope that Lloyd failed in his machinations or came to his senses.

Even if they successfully pulled this off, the only result awaiting them were the graves they would have dug for themselves.

He supposed he had his answer now.

The fact that Lloyd had ever considered trying to prank his sister proved, once and for all, that he was a mindless idiot.

~~~

One Week Later

Genis stuffed his feet into his shoes, staring out the window at the unnaturally dark sky. It was the middle of summer, and on any other day, the sun would have been happily smiling down at the world, even in the early evening.

Just his luck that the day before Lloyd’s… revenge plot (calling it that left a sour taste in his mouth), the sun would be hidden behind a barrage of storm clouds, thunder faintly rumbling as lightning lit up the sky.

He would hate getting caught in the rain while running around Iselia doing Lloyd’s bidding. It’d just be rubbing salt on an already open wound.

Genis sighed. Might as well bite the bullet and get it over and done with. Lloyd had at least promised him that he wouldn’t need to turn up tomorrow for the actual deed. Maybe Raine would never know he was part of this!

...

No. There was absolutely no way Raine wouldn’t figure it out. No matter what, he would be dead by the end of tomorrow.

Speaking of Raine, his sister should be preparing for tomorrow’s lesson right about now. She almost always stuck to her daily routine - eat breakfast (prepared by him), head to the schoolhouse, conduct her lessons, eat her packed lunch (also prepared by him), organise any necessary detention or supplementary sessions, come home, eat dinner (cooked by him, what else did you expect?), prepare tomorrow’s lessons… She carved out some time, especially on weekends, to read up on ruins and, of course, spend some time with him. They could talk about anything: more complicated magic incantations, the most recent book they had read, the insane things Lloyd got up to… Countless topics, skirting around the one thing they wouldn’t bring up unless they had to.

But they were both creatures of routine - perhaps that provided a much-needed sense of security to combat the ever-present fear that their deepest secret would be unearthed, here, in a place where they had finally found peace, much like it had before. History always repeated itself. That was how the saying went.

Maybe Raine did need to loosen up a little.

Well. He would get going. There should be no chance of being caught now and raising Raine’s suspicions -

A hand landed on his shoulder, causing his heart to jump out of his chest as a familiar voice was heard from behind him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Holding his breath and praying his absolute hardest to the Goddess, Genis turned around slowly, trying to maintain a straight face. Raine stared down at him, unimpressed, one eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms, awaiting his answer. How had she even gotten behind him without making any sound?

Lloyd had laughed at him when he’d said, once, that Raine was a silent predator. But you had to be there to believe it! She had struck terror into his heart ever since he was seven, when she’d caught him stealing from the cookie jar and grounded him for a whole week.

He’d been forced to eat Raine’s cooking for that entire period. He sometimes still had nightmares about the writhing tentacles he’d had to consume.

“I was going over to Lloyd’s to help him with math again. You know how he is with fractions.” He was going to have to congratulate himself later for keeping a stable voice. He had no idea how he was managing it.

“At this time of day?” Raine replied, frowning as she glanced out the window.

Steeling himself to come up with some plausible excuse, Genis opened his mouth -

“I’m worried it’ll rain while you’re out there. At least take a raincoat. I wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”

“Oh, right.” Genis accepted the raincoat his sister had grabbed off the clothes rack and stuffed into his hands, staring down at the grey plastic, a small smile forming on his face. “Thanks. I’ll… get going, then.”

“Take care. And don’t stay out too late, alright?” Raine opened the door, stepping back. “I will punish you if you turn up to school late tomorrow.”

“Can’t you just wake me up and take me with you?” Genis complained, stepping out of the house, still smiling.

“No. My answer is final. I will not accept any dissent over this issue.” Raine leaned against the doorframe, the corner of her mouth curving upwards slightly.

Genis waved goodbye to his sister, setting off down the footpaths of Iselia towards his closest schoolmate’s house. It’s not like he expected Raine to change her tune.

Stubborn, overly strict, prone to violence, but diligent, protective and caring. That was his sister.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~

The Next Day

Raine figured out something was wrong the moment she stepped foot into the schoolyard.

Shutting the book on the Balacruf Mausoleum that her head had been buried in just moments before, she closed her eyes and tried to identify the source for the sense of wrongness that had arisen.

Come on. Concentrate…

Ah. That was it. The complete silence.

Teaching at a schoolhouse that catered to children ranging from the ages of 8 to 16 meant there was always some noise, from somewhere, reaching her ears. Excited chattering, the scraping of desk legs against the floor, the creaking of old wooden boards that supported the weight of children, chasing each other around. One got used to it until it became nothing more than background noise that she didn't actively register. Nonetheless, it was a collection of sounds that brought comfort.

All that sound, carrying the weight of life with it, was gone now, drained from the schoolhouse and leaving it dark and soulless. The children, playing skip rope, catching or hopscotching in the dirt of the schoolyard until she shooed them in for class were absent as well.

There was not a single hint of life. The air was still. Silence dominated.

Was there no one here at all? Hmm.

She had suspected something was off ever since last night. Genis seldom left the house so late, and for Lloyd to do his homework at that time of day? It was unbelievable. Nothing, no force in this mortal world, could make Lloyd Irving finish his homework. It infuriated her to no end, but… It was also slightly endearing; part of what defined one of her beloved students.

So this was what Genis had been up to last night. She’d contemplated asking for the truth or just forbidding him from leaving, but had seen no point in doing it. He was no longer the tiny, vulnerable bundle she had cradled in both love and fear, wondering if they would survive, wondering how she could ever create a happy life for her brother. Genis would be turning 12 next year, growing into himself. Maybe this was part of a rebellious phase. Who knew?

That thought brought with it both a sense of loss and a dizzy, wondrous, beautiful sense of joy.

Not too long ago, she would have never thought they would get this far.

Raine reached the door to the schoolhouse, trying the door handle and finding it coated in some... thick substance. She brought her hand back, red, viscous liquid dripping lazily onto the dirt. Now that she looked properly, there were random puddles of this same liquid scattered haphazardly around the school grounds, almost like it had overflowed from some container being carried across.

The consistency and the earthy smell… There were even still small chunks swimming in the liquid. Tomato paste. Definitely.

That meant Colette had to be involved as well.

Firstly, High Priestess Phaidra had the best garden in Iselia, which, impressively, she somehow maintained on top of all her duties. All the children got their tomatoes from there for their fake Halloween blood.

Secondly, Lloyd would not have survived mashing the number of tomatoes required to produce this amount of paste. Not when, on Halloween night, he had hidden behind Colette every time one of the children, dressed up as vampires with fake tomato blood dripping from their fake fangs, had passed by. It was a ridiculous sight, since Lloyd was taller than Colette, but Colette didn’t seem to mind, smiling and letting out a little giggle whenever Lloyd gripped her shoulder, hissing in her ear about the evils of tomatoes.

Colette deserved to have fun as well before everything came to an end. She was just as much a child, and yet she had to shoulder a heavier burden than even Raine had at that age. The most Raine could do was give Colette the childhood she herself hadn’t had the chance to experience.

Lloyd and Genis were already doing a good job of that. Raine was thankful, but at the same time…

All she could hope for was that they made the best of memories together, memories that wouldn’t fade like those she had of her parents, that remained forever in the most pristine of conditions. In the end, that would be all that remained. Would it be enough? Would it ever be enough to fill the gap left behind by a beloved person, forever gone and never to return?

Walking into the dim building, Raine spotted the trail of red footprints leading straight into one of the classrooms.

This was far too obvious, wasn’t it? What was all the red supposed to represent? Blood?

Were they trying to make her believe the schoolhouse was haunted? She would never fall for that. The “blood” itself was amateur at best; it didn’t have the right texture to masquerade as the real thing.

That was strange. Genis was most likely the one who had boiled the tomatoes. Lloyd couldn’t operate a stove, and Colette might have been able to do it, but not without potentially causing a fire.

Genis should have known the proper technique, but yet…

Might as well indulge them. Children, living the time of their life. She couldn’t begrudge them that. Honestly, it was cute to see their honest attempt at a prank.

Though she would still have to punish them afterwards. She was looking forward to that.

“Lloyd!” She called, placing her book down on one of the dressers lining the corridor and taking a single step into the classroom. “Come out, would you?”

~~~

Earlier that week

“The plan’s simple, really,” Lloyd said from his position at the sink, scrubbing his arms with soap for the third time, the skin starting to turn pink from all the rubbing. Colette and Genis were sat at the dining table with a vat of chunky tomato paste in front of them; Colette staring at Lloyd in concern while Genis stared in disbelief.

All three of them had taken part in the tomato mashing after Genis had boiled the tomatoes, making use of the hammers that Lloyd had… borrowed. Colette had asked if it was okay to use Dirk’s tools on fruits and if it would stain, but Lloyd had shrugged and said that it would be fine and they’d just wash them afterwards. “Dad will never notice” had been Lloyd’s exact words. Genis was starting to doubt that, considering the hammers were now a wonderful shade of red, with stray pieces of tomato pulp hanging on by their dear life.

Surely the tomato paste had been washed off on his first trip to the sink, as it had been for the two of them. Lloyd was making a huge deal out of this. He’d been wincing throughout the entire mashing session and had taken great care to dodge the occasional squirts of liquid.

Lloyd really hated tomatoes that much, huh?

“I know you asked why we’re making the paste so chunky,” Lloyd continued.

Yes, Genis had indeed asked that question. If they were trying to convince Raine of supernatural activity, they were doing a terrible job. That’s what Lloyd had said in the classroom last week, right?

Raine wasn’t even the type to get scared. He was.

“That’s because it doesn’t matter! It doesn’t need to be convincing. In fact, we want Professor Raine to think she’s got it all figured out!”

~~~

Now

Raine felt her foot catch through a loop of something thin and fragile, experiencing resistance as the loop went taut, a loud scraping sound coming from behind her.

Ah. She’d thought it all figured out, and let her guard down as a result. It had been a trap all along, and she’d fallen head-first into it.

Impressive. She’d have to congratulate whoever came up with this later.

Raine barely had enough time to glance up and see the other end of the string now looped around her foot, climbing up the wall and tied to the handle of a washtub resting on a ceiling beam right by the door, before the chain-reaction of tugging string and gravity caused the washtub to tip over and release a veritable waterfall of red liquid.

It all crashed down on her, pelting down on her clothes and face at high pressures. Now, instead of just one of her hands, every centimetre of her was covered with tomato paste. It was heavier than expected, her sleeves weighed down and drooping towards the floor.

Ugh, the earthy smell was nearly overpowering at this intensity, nor was the mushy feeling pleasant. Was this why Lloyd hated tomatoes? She could understand a little now… Though only when there were this many.

Thank the Goddess she hadn’t brought her book in with her. Otherwise, she’d have to murder the three of them.

~~~

“Towel?” Genis offered, crawling out from his hiding place under one of the tables with a folded towel in his hands. Raine was standing absolutely still with her head angled towards the floor and hadn’t moved for a full minute, clothes dripping liquid onto the floor and forming tiny puddles. The washtub was balancing rather precariously on the edge of the ceiling beam. He hoped it wouldn’t fall over and smack Raine on the head.

Lloyd was sitting cross-legged in the corner of the classroom, snickering. Even Colette, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest next to him, couldn’t keep a smile off her face.

Raine raised her head, and Genis was relieved to see that his sister was, indeed, smiling. He had decided, in the end, to come along of his own volition. He wanted to see the results for himself.

It's been some time since he's seen a smile so wide on his sister's face.

“Thank you.” Raine took the towel, moving away from the shadow of the washtub as she began to towel her hair. The clothes were most likely hopeless. There’d be no cleaning them without a good wash. “Congratulations. You tricked me. Did you come up with this, Genis?”

“No, I did,” Lloyd interjected, waving from his corner. “Did you like it?”

“So you can be intelligent if you apply yourself. Surprising,” Raine muttered, a glint beginning to appear in her eyes. Colette’s smile was beginning to drop, though Lloyd hadn’t yet noticed.

“Ha! Well, now you know how terrible tomatoes are. And this is revenge for all the buckets of water you’ve made me carry!”

Genis took a step back, sweat beginning to form on his brow as he recognised the murderous expression on his sister’s face. Time for the grave, then?

It was inevitable.

“We’re even now, I assume?” Raine towered over Lloyd, smiling sinisterly. “Well, that’s good to know, because I have the most special idea planned for you! All of you!”

Yep. Yep, they were dead. So dead, and there was nothing they could do about it.

As he'd said to Lloyd at the very beginning, this had been a terrible idea.

But... Genis can't quite say, anymore, that he regretted participating in it.

~~~

In the end, Lloyd and Genis were forced to clean the entire schoolhouse from top to bottom. “It has to be sparkly clean,” Raine had warned, or they would really be in for it.

Colette, it turned out, had church duties to attend to that day. Not even Raine, in her position of authority, could touch the Chosen. Colette had apologised profusely to both of them, telling them that she would be back as soon as she was done. After all, she had played her part as well and should accept her due punishment.

So the two of them had slaved over walls, the ceiling, and furniture, armed with an army of rags and a tiny bucket of water that they had to keep refilling. It was toiling work, further slowed down by Lloyd’s staunch refusal to touch the tomato paste. Lloyd was the only one who could reach the ceiling! He needed to stop being so squeamish and just do it!

Admittedly, there were also moments when Genis had thrown the rag into the bucket a little harder than necessary, causing a splash of droplets that hit Lloyd and elicited vicious water-splashing battles. He was trying to express his earlier frustrations at getting dragged into this in the first place (even though he had long changed his mind over the whole thing). At least water would dry on its own.

Colette turned up later in the day with a tray of chocolate muffins that her grandmother had freshly baked, warm to the touch and which melted in the mouth. Genis savoured one happily. He would never pass up Head Priestess Phaidra's baked goodies; they were absolutely amazing and didn't come along that often. Genis watched in amusement as Colette laughed at the messy way Lloyd ate, chastising him in a soft voice and gently wiping the crumbs off the corner of his mouth.

After the wonderful break, it was right back to work. Colette took up a rag herself and began cheerily cleaning, chatting with the both of them and joining in the water fights with an enthusiastic grin until they were all giggling uncontrollably. At this point, Genis could come up with no excuse for his behaviour. But it didn't matter.

Even Raine turned up again, wearing a new change of clothes, and helped clean the floor with a mop. His sister slipped in the occasional berating, which Lloyd enthusiastically retorted as Genis sighed at the usual childish display (ignoring his own behaviour), as Colette covered her mouth and laughed.

The schoolhouse was awash with warm sunlight, laughter alive in each of their chests. Joy fluttered in the air, and the memory of that day was a warm, golden sphere to be cradled and cherished forever.

All in all, Lloyd declared it a success.

Genis was inclined to agree.

#fanfiction #tales of symphonia #colette brunel #lloyd irving #genis sage #raine sage #one shot

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.01

Among the Muck

09/27/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 4,835

Warnings: Language, future smut, future dub-con (because of the time period this is set in), future angst, future violence

A/N: I’ve been watching a lot of the Tudors and inspiration struck. I’ve been wanting to make a Medieval AU but this will be different to those I’ve read. These characters will still be them. Tony is still Iron Man (you’ll see how I do that), Bruce will still be Hulk, Steve and Bucky will still be super soldiers. So this falls under more Medieval Fantasy than just pure Medieval. As such, this will not be historically accurate but hopefully within the historically accurate bubble in all other aspects. This will not be a fluffy story. There will be some fluff (I love soft moments and I do them often) but there will also be some major angst. Anyway, I hope you like this first chapter. xoxo

If you would like to be tagged. Please, send me an ASK. I will not add you if you send me a private message or if you do so in the comments.

Coarse dirt is caked underneath your fingernails. Your feet squish against the wet gloop of mud. With a gasp you falter, losing your balance, and throw out your hands to catch yourself.

They sink in all the way to the elbow, stretching the muscles on the back of your thighs until they burn.

Labor is something you are familiar with, but this. This searching is exhausting.

“Are you alright, dear?” An old woman croaks, voice quaking with age.

Glancing back at her with her withered white skin, caked in grime and dried sweat, you smile.

It’s meant to be reassuring but you feel as if it’s really a grimace.

“Yes.” You answer simply, as she worries, watching you struggle.

She’d been walking along the side of the uneven dirt road when a group of teens—from the village because you’ve seen them before—rushed by on stolen horses. They avoided the lady easily but the guard chasing behind them did not.

They barreled towards the old woman and she’d had to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled.

She’d landed in this mud puddle, losing her purse in the process.

Watching it all happen, you’d dropped your pails and raced over to help her.

Grateful, she’d accepted your offer of assistance and you’d sat her on an overturned tree stump to wait while you looked for her bag.

Well, since your hands are already in, you might as well take advantage of it. You reach around freely, searching. Making small groaning noises in the back of your throat from the effort it takes to wade through the viscous muck.

“Thank you for helping me, young lady.” The old woman sighs. Probably tired.

“My name is Y/N, grandmother. Feel free to call me as such.” You tell her, peeking once again with a reassuring smile.

“Not many young people would help a fallen old woman.” She continues, as if you hadn’t interrupted.

“Then I guess there ain’t many decent young people then, is there?” You ask rhetorically.

“No.” She answers sadly. “There ain’t even much in my purse. Maybe you shouldn’t bother?”

“Nonsense, grandmother. I will find your purse and return it to you, and I beg you to keep off the roads in future. We don’t need you breaking your neck on account of the guard.” Just then your fingers make purchase, a small string of rope passes between your fingers and you grab it. “Gott’it!”

It takes a mighty tug to free the small ratty bag from the muck. You nearly lose your balance again and fall back onto your behind, but you manage to catch yourself and once you’re steady you turn and traipse back towards the old woman. By the time you reach her, you’re sweating.

“The string is still tight.” You tell her. “Your money is safe.”

You hand her the bag and she takes it, opens it—quickly wiping off as much of the mud as she can then smears it onto the grass beside her to clean her hand—then reaches in for a large silver coin.

“Here. You deserve it.” She says.

With a furrowed brow, you pull yourself out of the mud fully. You wipe your hands on your long tattered brown apron, but you know you’ll need a bath to get all he mud off. “No. I’m alright, grandmother. I don’t need payment. I’m happy to help.”

“Take it, young woman.” She shakes her fist at you, silver coin dangling between her thumb and forefinger.

You shake your head, dropping your apron before you move to her and squat down beside her. With the skirt of your woolen dress still pulled up and tucked to create a pair of makeshift pants, you take the silver coin and her dirty purse and shove the coin back into the bag.

“I said, I don’t need it. You keeping well is all the payment I require.” You draw the string closed and then reach out to shove it into the pocket of her own dark gray skirt. “Your skirt is torn here, and your bodice needs mending too. As does that shamble of a hat you’re wearing. Why don’t you get yourself a decent set of dresses with this money before winter comes instead of handing it out?”

“At my age, what does it matter what I wear when I freeze? I’m going to die sooner rather than later. New clothes would only be a waste of money.” She sasses you.

“Even so.” You put your elbows on your knees and smile at her. “It would make me much happier to know that you’ve spent the money taking care of yourself. I can’t always be here to help you when the world takes a bitter turn.”

The woman cackles. “Oh, sweet girl, you’re much too late.”

A sudden rumble pulls your gaze up towards the road. Through the tall rows of trees that make up the outlying forest, you see a distant coach and six horses riding hard and fast.

“What’s that?” The old woman asks, “Help me up.”

You get up, untying your dress so that it falls around you again to shield your legs, then help the old woman up. Keeping your hands on her elbows until she’s steady, you observe the smaller details of the approaching carriage.

“It’s a royal carriage. There’s gold and silver fixtures upon the horses' harness.” You observe.

“You can see that from here?” The old woman gasps. “I really must be old. I can’t see shite.”

She squints in the same direction that you’re staring and as the carriage gets closer, the sounds of hooves, a whip, and the call of the coachman becomes louder.

He’s dressed in a fine black tunic, a singular bright baby blue circle at the center of his chest that slowly grows out in smaller circles darkening in color until it reaches the edge of the circle. The pattern makes it look like it’s glowing. From the circle crop out several silver lines of thread that line the seams and edges of the rest of his uniform, tunic and all.

On his head he wears a hat. Simple. Nothing too exciting. No feathers at least.

“It’s the King’s carriage.” You whisper at the old woman and as the carriage grows closer, you and she drop your heads and curtsy as it passes.

“We can’t give up.” A male voice says from inside the carriage. It floats out and reaches your ears and while you try not to listen, you can’t help it. “We’ll find a girl that’s suitable if we have to search every village in my Kingdom until-wait…did you see that?”

“See what?” Another male voice says.

This one you recognize. Colonel James Rhodes. He comes into the village every few months to look over the new recruits for the king’s army.

Polite. Nice. No time for funny business though. Stern.

“That girl. Stop the carriage.” The other male voice—the king you suddenly realize—calls.

“WHOA!” The coachman says. “Whoa…”

The carriage rustles to a stop, gravel and dirt grinding against the thick reinforced wheels. The footman jumps off the back of the carriage and hurries forward pulling open the door. He saunters out with sharp movements that you observe for all of one second before you avert your gaze again, legs beginning to ache from your held curtsy.

You’ve never seen the king up close before and you did not expect him to be so young. Well, not young, but he wasn’t old. He might have been an older uncle or your father.

“This one.” He says, and you can almost feel him pointing.

You peek up at him, take in his leathered tunic, dark and supple. His sword resting at his hip, a deep blue cape with a black bear’s pelt around the collar to keep him warm as the last vestiges of summer slip into autumn. His hair is dark brown, only the slightest hint of gray along his temples.

His body is lean. His gloved finger pointed at you, just as you’d thought. His deep brown eyes watch you with curiosity, eagerness, and surprise. Happiness too. He’s excited.

His travelling crown is a golden three-inch band with very little jewels. Only about four or five red rubies are set within it and they dazzle you in the midday sun before you avert your gaze again.

“That one? Really?” The Colonel has joined the king.

“Yes. She’s the right age.” The king asserts. “Come here girly, stand before me. Here.”

He makes an X in the gravel of the road, but you can’t seem to find the strength to move. You’ve never been so nervous in your life.

Here you are, face to face with the fucking King of Malibia, and you’re covered in mud. Your hair is falling out of its braid. You’re sweating and haven’t bathed in almost a week. You look worse than you’ve ever looked in your life.

“Hey, girl, are you deaf? Did you not hear your king?” The Colonel asks, military voice hard and commanding. “His Majesty has given you and order.”

It takes you another half second to urge yourself out of your curtsy and move to the spot marked on the ground.

“Stand up straight.” The king orders.

You do.

“Head up.”

You lift your chin.

“Shoulders back. Don’t slouch.”

You push out your breasts.

“She’s perfect.” The king says.

“Your Majesty…” Colonel Rhodes begins. “…Tony, she’s a peasant. Look at her. She hasn’t bathed in almost a month.”

You glower at the Colonel, unable to help yourself. You’re not that dirty. Not a month’s worth. Jerk.

“We can easily fix that. She’s the one, Rhodey. Our search is over. Problem solved. What’s your name, girl?” The king suddenly asks, moving to stand closer to you, his hands behind his back.

You bow your head, not meeting his eyes. “M-My name is Y/N, your Majesty. At your service.”

“Do you have any family?” He asks, worried suddenly.

“No, your Majesty. I don’t have anyone.” You don’t mean to sound sad about it but not many people as you that question.

Everyone in the village knows your story so you have no reason to retell it.

This is the first time you’ve realized that you’re alone in the world. No one will miss you if you die.

“Perfect. Excellent. Magnificent. Get in the carriage.” He turns and leads the way back, disappearing into the mouth of the open door.

“P-Pardon me, your Majesty?” The shock in your voice is apparent and you find your limbs frozen and locked again.

“You heard his Majesty.” The colonel says with exasperation. “Get in the carriage.”

“B-But where are we going?”

“Will you just get in? We don’t have time for all your questions. His Majesty will explain everything on the way.” The colonel moves to you, grabs you by the elbow and drags you away from where you stand to the carriage door.

One foot up on the step in, you look to the old woman with large, terrified eyes and she’s staring at you with an utterly worried expression. She shifts from foot to foot, hand at her throat as she watches you get taken away.

Strange that she’s worried about you when she’s never shown such emotion before. Guess there are some good people in the world.

“Goodbye…” You mouth to her and she gives you a tiny wave before the colonel is pushing you into the carriage.

You find your seat on the far corner, opposite the king.

As the colonel sits down beside him then hits the roof of the carriage twice, the king can only smile.

No. It’s a smirk. A grin. A pleased one. He’s so damn happy that he’s kidnapped you.

You suddenly remember rumors about the king. Whispered secrets in taverns from drunken lips, spoken with shifting eyes and pounding hearts.

The king devoured young girls. He’d steal them away from their families and towns, trap them in his castle and have his way with them. He’d been with many. Hundreds, they say.

Is that what this is? Are you being taken to be the king’s fodder?

Too afraid to ask, you mash your lips shut and stare at your mud caked hands.

It’s dried and when you twiddle your thumbs, your skin pulls against the stiff coating of dried muck. It cracks and dusts, but you don’t dare look up, afraid you’ll get your answer in the king’s piercing gaze.

~~~~~~~~~~

You ride in silence for what feels like hours. Head down, thumbs twiddling away.

There’s a slow inhale of breath, the click of a tongue draws your eyes up.

“Do you always come silently when you’re abducted?” His Majesty asks, leaning his elbow against the small window’s ledge, fist resting against his chin.

“No, your Majesty.” You reply, somewhat meekly. “I mean…I ain’t-”

“Haven’t.” King Anthony says.

“Your Majesty?” You peer at him with confusion.

“Haven’t. It’s I haven’t. Not I ain’t. Better start speaking properly from the get-go or you’ll fall into bad habits.” He orders.

“Oh.” You lick your lips, feeling a slight bit of shame.

It’s not your fault that you’re not exactly eloquent. You’ve never been to school. Not once.

“I haven’t ever been kidnapped before, your Majesty.”

“I haven’t been kidnapped before.” He says, editing your reply. “Keep it simple. Have you been taught? Did you go to the school in the village?”

You shake your head. “Before they passed, my mother and father said that my place was at home where I could help mother take care of the house. My father was away a lot.”

“Mm.” The king nods. “And where are your parents now?”

“They’re dead, your Majesty. Sixteen years ago now.” You’d been a child when they died.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Did they die in the famine?” He checks, giving your body a quick up and down almost like he was checking to see if you had been marked by death too.

“No, your Majesty.” You shake your head.

“War?” He wonders. “Accident?”

“No. The plague took my mother first, my father followed shortly after. I’ve been alone ever since.” It’s funny, you rarely ever think about it like this. Like you’re alone and orphaned.

“The plague?” His Majesty asks, confused by their deaths and you know why. “But the plague didn’t take many lives. We were well prepared for it.”

“Yes.” You nod. “My mother was the first to die. Her death raised the alarm and my father’s death came shortly after. Too quick before his Majesty’s medicines made it into the village. It happened very quickly. They didn’t suffer long.”

A peachy gloveless hand reaches out and settles over your nervous twiddling thumbs, preventing them from fidgeting.

You look up, startled by the gesture, and meet his stunningly bright brown eyes.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” The king says. “And your parents are heroes. Without them, we wouldn’t have been able to prepare as quickly as we did and the losses to my kingdom would have been much greater. Thank you.”

You don’t know why you should be thanked for losing your parents, but you understand what he’s saying.

There’s kindness in his eyes and he means nothing by it. You didn’t know that the king could be so nice, and he speaks in an offhandish tone, but there’s feeling in his expression.

“Your Majesty.” You say, thanking him for his kindness. With a look back down at his hand over yours, and because it’s what people do, you pull his hand up to your dirty lips and kiss it in gratitude.

This is your king and he’s surprisingly nice.

The colonel suddenly clears his throat and you lower his Majesty’s hand back to your lap.

He gives you one more squeeze then takes his hand back, regloving it.

“We’ve still got a few hours before we reach the castle. If you want to sleep, you should sleep. Once we arrive it will be some time before you can rest.” His Majesty says.

It takes you a while but eventually you do doze off against the side of the carriage.

When you wake up, you find that the king is also not a liar. You’re awoken by a young man, the footman from before, shaken gently who then wraps your shoulders in a long black cloak. He pulls the hood over your head and then double-checks to make sure that you are properly hidden beneath it before he leads you through a side door of a tall dark gray stone wall.

You’ve never seen the castle before, and you attempt to take in as much of it as you can while you’re led in but all you see is the cobblestone walls of the lower floors. Servant’s quarters usually, and a large parapet wall, that stands at what must be twelve feet in height. Maybe taller.

It’s too dark to make out much more than the distant illuminated windows of the upper floors then you’re weaving your way through a confusing array of twists and turns.

“Where are we going?” You ask the footman and he sighs.

“His Majesty told me to show you to your quarters and say nothing else. I’m sorry, miss. His Majesty will explain everything later.” He gives you an apologetic look.

“Where is his Majesty?” You wonder, since he can’t tell you what’s going on, clearly, maybe he’s willing to tell you about the castle?

“He and the colonel have gone to take care of some business. Queen Virginia has been waiting all day for his return. I’m sure he’s greeting her too.” The young man says.

The way he smiles makes you think that he’s right. You’ve heard that King Anthony Stark loves his queen more than any King has ever loved his Queen in the history of the kingdom. Any kingdom.

She’d been his right hand, and best friend, long before she was queen. After courting many women, his Majesty had seen the light and pursued Miss Potts until she’d given in and agreed to marry him.

Shortly after, they’d had their daughter and the Kingdom had rejoiced. With an heir to the throne, prosperity in the kingdom doubled.

“Wait,” You reach out and grab the young man’s wrist and pull him to a stop. “Are we going the right way?”

He’s leading you upstairs. It’s a small narrow staircase that winds up and up and up. The servant’s staircase but one that no doubt leads up to the nicer bedrooms upstairs.

“I am only following orders, miss. Come along. I have other things to tend to after I drop you off.” He pulls his arm from your hold and leads once more.

You follow in silence, growing more and more nervous.

Were the rumors really true? Is the king going to have his way with you? Are you going to be taken in as his mistress?

No.

Your mind flashes back to the kind look in his eyes in the carriage and his gentility with the news of your parents. You can’t link the sweet and noble king in the carriage to the rumored philandering king that those rumors paint.

He loves the Queen. Why would he stray?

The hallway you are brought out on is a surprisingly light. Gleaming limestone above a floor made of alternating black and white marble. Gilded chandeliers with flickering candlelight illuminate the darkened hallway.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” You ask in a whisper, afraid to wake up some nobility sleeping over.

“Yes, Miss. This way.”

He leads you down a second hallways, this one nicer and lined with stunning paintings of the various landscapes in the kingdom.

King Anthony must really love his homeland.

Finally, the footman stops before two large, steel reinforced oak doors. He pushes them open inside the small entryway is a chair and a decorative table, beside another set of doors that already stand open.

You move in, gawking at the light blue and white damask wallpaper. The golden vanity with a tall ornate golden mirror to match, both beside a tall four post bed with baby blue sheets, fluffy gray pillows, and a beautiful canopy made of heavy white draping. At the end of the bed is a pink chaise lounge, a soft fur blanket waiting to be draped over a shivering body.

Several candles have been lit to illuminate the large space which is big enough to fit your small home in it thrice. A floor to ceiling window has been drawn closed. There’s a desk with a letterbox for writing. Comfy chairs and a small table for card playing. Another two cushioned chairs by a big fireplace for reading.

Beside the chair is a smaller table with a plate of fruits and bread.

Your stomach growls and the pain of hunger hits you suddenly.

“This is where I leave you.” The footman says.

“Wait!” You gasp, turning to follow him into the entryway of your room. “Wait, are you sure this is where the King asked you to bring me?”

“I’m positive. Have some food. That’s why it was brought. Then wait for his Majesty to come find you.”

He gives you a quick head to toe.

“Maybe stay out of the bed until you have cleaned up? Mrs. Parson would not be happy with you if you ruined the sheets.” He gives you a smile then leaves you there, shutting the doors behind him.

At first you hover around the entrance, hesitating each time you’re tempted to go back into the large bedroom.

When you finally give in, instead of racing for the food immediately, you wander around the room looking at all of the fine furnishings and the items having been left for you.

Your favorite by far is the large wardrobe. Full of dresses and outerwear made of fine silks in every color.

When your stomach growls again, you give in and move to sit at the very edge of the chair by the small table in front of the blissfully warm fire. It crackles and dances as you munch on grapes and apples, then bite and tear into the bread. A small pitcher of wine has been set aside for you and you gulp down a small glass before pouring yourself another.

The food hits your stomach painfully. Too hungry for too long. Now that you’re filling it, your stomach stretches uncomfortably.

You put your hand on your stomach and groan, still chewing on an apple slice.

The sound of your doors opening startles you up. You set your food aside as his Majesty suddenly sneaks in and quickly shuts the second set of doors behind him.

Heart pounding, nervous, and suddenly worried that you are about to be ravished by force—well, sort of…if your king wants you, then you’ll surrender yourself to him. He’s your king!—you back up until your back hits the post of your bed.

“Were you eating?” He asks, smiling happily as he looks from your terrified form to the plate you’d just abandoned. It’s almost empty. Only a few grapes and an apple slice left.

He looks back at you and seems to realize that you’re scared. He holds his hands out to you and beckons you forward.

Because you must listen to your king, you move towards him, avoiding his gaze.

He reaches down and takes your hands, dirty as they are, then leads you to the chair you’d been sitting in again.

“Please, sit.” He urges you and once you’re seated, takes the other. “You must have lots of questions.”

You nod.

“Tell me.”

“Why am I here?” You look up at him, swallowing past the nerves loudly.

“Straight to the big one, huh?” He smiles. “Very well, we’re taking you in.”

“What?!” You ask in shock.

“Pepper—that is, Queen Virginia—and I are taking you in. We…where to start?” He wrings his hands, sits back and looks up at the ceiling. “Three months ago, the King of Broklin sent me a letter. He asked if it were reasonable, that I introduce him to my daughter. He wants to marry her as his own Queen died a year ago and he is called upon by the duty to his people to give them not only a new queen but an heir to the throne.

“Because Princess Morgana is heir to my throne, I wrote back to him and told him that I would need to discuss it with my own queen and after much deliberation, since the two kingdoms are neighboring, we decided that with their marriage and upon my death or his, we might combine our kingdoms for good.”

He smiles a little tightly, a frown you realize.

“What happened?” You wonder.

“Well, Morgana is very young but either way she has always been a woman of her own. She’s strong minded and strong willed and she wasn’t raised to expect to share her kingdom. Not only that but she has since declared that she will only marry a man whom she loves. She will not marry for political purposes and when I told the King this, he took offense.

“War hasn’t threatened our Kingdom in almost sixty years. Even if I have the means to defeat his kingdom, I would rather not have it come to that. So…against my wife’s wishes…I may have told Morgana that she will marry the King of Broklin whether she likes it or not.”

That seems…well, not reasonable but understandable considering the consequences if she shouldn’t.

“And what did the Princess say?” You ask him, leaning forward and completely invested in his retelling.

“She ran away.” He smiles at you, eyes sparkling. “She’s like her mother. A strong woman. And she gets her iron will from me.”

“She ran away?” You gasp, shocked by the Princess’s behavior.

“She did.” King Anthony nods. “And we can’t find her.”

Okay, so all of that makes sense but what exactly do you have to do with it all?

“Since I am not going to be able to marry my own daughter to the King of Broklin…I concocted a plan not to deceive him but so that we might both be happy. You will be my eldest daughter.”

“What?”

“I know it’s a crazy plan, but we’ve already begun to spread the news and I wrote to the King this morning that I have an elder daughter. One who I sent of when she was very young because she suffered from emotional problems.” He explains. “And was obviously a daughter born from an unfortunate tryst in my youth.”

“What?!” You rise to your feet, shocked beyond reason.

“A special school up north has reformed you and you are recently returned to us. And now that you are cured, we’ve welcomed you back into the castle with open arms. Since Morgana has been trained to rule our kingdom, you would make a lovely queen for his. Or…something like that. I can’t remember how I worded it exactly.”

“Emotional problems?” You demand again. “A tryst?”

King Anthony winces, but he smiles at you.

“It happens. Lots of royals have them. Both the emotional problems and the affairs. Anyway, that’s why you’re here. We need an older princess to send to the King of Broklin and you are the lucky winner.” He says, almost laughing, congratulatory as if you’ve really just won a prize. “You will be the queen of an entire kingdom. Lucky you!”

“Your Majesty-” You begin, shaking your head because you can’t be a queen! You don’t know how queens act or speak or move or think. You’re an orphan from a small village where you’ve taken to sewing to earn a few coins just to get by.

“Please?” King Anthony reaches over and takes hold of your dirty hand. “I…can’t bring myself to condemn my only daughter to a life in a loveless marriage. I married for love and I want her to be able to do the same. I’m sorry to ask this of you. It’s not fair to you either but without you, our kingdom might have to go to war.

“Lost lives can be prevented simply by your marrying the King of Broklin. Please, please do this for us. For the Kingdom. Please?” And his begging is genuine.

You. A nobody from nowhere has brought a king, your king, to his knees to beg.

“I-If I marry him, it will prevent a war?” You double check.

“Yes. You’ll be keeping the lives of the young men in our kingdom safe.” He urges.

You stare at him, wondering if you’ll really be able to pull this off. You’re going to have to work harder than you’ve ever worked before and that’s because you work with your hands when you can’t earn enough money with the sewing.

Calloused hands. Not the hands of a royal.

King Anthony massages those hands, staring at them as he waits with bated breath.

“Okay.” You relent. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry him.”

This time, King Anthony kisses your hands. Dried mud and all.

#steve x reader #steve x reader fic #steve x reader fanfic #steve x reader fanfiction #king!steve x reader #king!steve x reader fanfiction #king!steve x reader fanfic #king!steve x reader fic #king!steve x princess!reader #king!steve x you #king!steve x y/n #king!steve/reader #steve/reader #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #avengers x reader #medieval au #pseudo princess #pseudo princess pt01

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elvendara · 4 years

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Yooran Week 2020

For @yooranweek2020

I have to admit, this one had me stumped and took me a while, but, thanks to @booyakasha516 and her suggestion of a Werewolf Holiday, it was off to the races! FYI, there is nakedness in this fic but no funny business, and no describing the nakedness, very PG!

Day 6: Holidays/Cultural Festivals

Mullin Salang (Love Bite) is a werewolf holiday of reaffirmation. It is a day that only comes every five years. Werewolves mate for life, yet, there are times when this may be mitigated by outside circumstances. The death of a mate, the injury or health issue of a mate, the state of mind (certain mental disorders such as Alzheimer’s etc.). Mullin Salang is a time in which mates either reaffirm their connection or sever it. It is usually celebrated privately, although some packs celebrate together. This will be Saeran’s and Yoosung’s first Mullin Salang Day.

“Come on MC, what should I expect? It can’t be any more surprising than the beginning of mating season!” Yoosung prodded. MC laughed and patted him on the cheek.

“Stop worrying about it! Are you afraid Saeran is going to want to sever your bond?”

“No, of course not. It’s just, well, I’m not a werewolf so…”

“Saeran will tell you what to expect I’m sure.”

“He won’t! I’ve already asked. The little I know has to do with both turning into werewolves, how does that impact us?”

“You’re guess is as good as mine, don’t forget, this will be Saeyoung’s and my first Mullin Salang Day as well.”

“You’re right! 2020, we all got married within the last five years. But, has Saeyoung told you anything else?”

“A little, but mostly he said it would be better if I just followed his direction. It isn’t like the bonding that happens during mating season, there isn’t any magic. He said it was much like Valentine’s Day for humans, just a tradition kind of thing. Though he said the older a mated couple gets, the more the day is infused with reverence. I guess I understand.”

“So you don’t know much more than I do.” Yoosung wilted.

“Why are you so worried?” MC’s brows furrowed above her honey colored eyes.

“I don’t know. I guess…I kind of feel inferior, like, I can’t contribute the same as Saeran, after all, I’m not a werewolf.” Yoosung shrugged.

“But you are Saeran’s Beta. And that’s the only thing that matters.”

“Hey! There you are, you ready?” Saeran popped into MC’s bedroom nodding towards Yoosung.

“Yeah, I guess. You sure I don’t need anything special?”

“Positive.” Saeran grinned and held out his hand towards Yoosung. With a final look to MC, who gave him an encouraging nod, Yoosung stood and took the offered hand. He could feel Saeran’s excitement, his blood pulsed through his veins so forcefully he could feel it throbbing through his skin.

“I, uh, hope you’re not disappointed.”

“Disappointed? Why would I be disappointed?” Saeran laughed. “You’re taking this too seriously, it’s just a silly holiday.”

“If that’s all it was, then you wouldn’t be so excited. Don’t bother trying to deny it, I may not have your superior senses, but I do know you.” Yoosung stopped, in so doing, he effectively kept Saeran from proceeding as well.

“Yoosung.” Saeran sighed and hugged his husband, then pulled away after a few seconds, looking into the gorgeously brilliant lavender eyes. “I’m excited because I get to reaffirm my love for you, my affection, my bond, my desire. I’m excited because I get to show you how much you mean to me and continue to mean to me. If I could, I would ask you to marry me all over again. When you walk into a room, I still get goosebumps and my heart races. When you hold my hand, I still sweat and blood pounds in my ears. When you focus your attention on me and only me, I still get tongue tied and my brain buzzes telling me I don’t deserve you yet here you are. Loving me. Today I reaffirm that I still choose you, over everyone else in the entire world, none can ever take your place by my side. And I hope you feel the same.” His eyes slid away from Yoosung and to the side, worry lines forming on his forehead. Yoosung reached up and smoothed them away.

“Always.” He gave Saeran a soft smile then planted a chaste kiss on his lips. “Let’s go.” Saeran relaxed and led Yoosung outside the house and towards the singular path in the woods.

“Are we going to the lake?” Yoosung asked. It was a favorite spot of theirs.

“No. Not this time, besides, Saeyoung said he wanted to take MC there.”

“Oh, where then?”

“It’s a surprise! But it’s going to take a while to get there, at least the full moon will be high in the sky by the time we arrive.”

“What?” Yoosung was a little unhappy, it sounded as if he would have to walk for a long time.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you!” Saeran winked at him. As soon as they made it past the first few lines of trees into the woods Saeran began to undress. He took the backpack he was wearing and set it on the ground, folding his clothes and stuffing them into the bag. He handed the backpack to Yoosung and had him put it on. Once that was done, Saeran began to transform, his nose and mouth elongated, his jaw expanded, the teeth sharpening and coming in like daggers. He fell to his hands and knees, paws springing forth and fur sprouting from his pours. Once he was fully transformed, he shook his golden reddish fur, his mint colored eyes luminescent. He motioned Yoosung towards his back.

No matter how many times Yoosung witnessed this miracle, it still left him stunned. Saeran pushed at his abdomen with his snout and huffed.

“Right, sorry.” Yoosung sighed and did as he was expected, climbing onto Saeran’s back. He held on to his fur but tried not to pull too hard. As soon as he was secured, Saeran took off. Yoosung lay close to his back and tried to keep his eyes open. The trees were flashing around him, the wind buffeting him but even though Saeran was dodging and jumping and sliding under all these obstacles, he somehow managed to keep Yoosung perfectly balanced.

Yoousng laughed with exuberance. It took them almost two hours to reach the base of a mesa. Saeran slowed down and Yoosung was able to sit up. Saeran stopped at the entrance to a cave. Yoosung slid off, his eyes large and round, he’d never been this far out from the house before.

Saeran returned to his human form and took the backpack from Yoosung, redressing himself. Once he was finished, he took Yoosung’s hand and they made their way inside.

There were torches set into the cave walls and Saeran quickly had them lit with a lighter.

“Wow.” Yoosung stepped into an opening that stretched out to either side. In the center there was a pool, overhead an opening big enough for the moon to filter through, its mirror image shining in the water.

“I thought you’d like it. It’s not as comfortable as the grass at the lake, but it has its own beauty.”

“It sure does!” Yoosung’s voice was full of awe, but Saeran only had eyes for him. Yoosung was distracted as Saeran took his clothes off again and transformed. He nipped at Yoosung’s backside which made the blond yelp and jump.

“Stop that!” he swatted at Saeran but he also laughed. Saeran bit his shirt and pulled. “OK OK, I got it!” Yoosung began to undress, folding his clothes and setting them atop Saeran’s. Saeran had sat next to the pool and stared at the moon. Yoosung sat in front of him and did the same. Without warning Saeran began to howl, the sound reverberated around the cavern and in the distance another howl could be heard. Saeyoung. Yoosung watched his husband, the hair on his body standing on end. The power in that howl was humbling. He felt ridiculous but the desire to throw back his head and howl was overwhelming, so he did. His blond hair shook away from his face, he closed his eyes and felt the sound originate in his belly and travel outwards until it was released through his mouth.

They howled for several minutes, Yoosung’s voice never even coming close to the breadth and depth of Saeran’s but the intensity was accurately matched. Once they had exhausted themselves, Saeran cocked his enormous head. Yoosung was flushed with exhilaration. He knew what was expected of him and complied, leaning his head to the left and exposing the soft tissue of his neck. Saeran opened his mouth and bit. His sharp teeth pierced the offered skin and Yoosung gasped but did not flinch. It was superficial. Once done, Searan backed away and licked the wound carefully, he then sat back and reverted to his human form and offered Yoosung his neck. Yoosung gulped but understood what he was to do. He pushed up to his knees and sank his teeth into Searan’s flesh until he tasted blood. Saeran’s intake of breath was sharp, lacking pointed and sharpened teeth, Yoosung’s normal flat teeth were more painful on Saeran. Yoosung flinched but reminded himself that Saeran would quickly heal. He pulled away and also licked Searan’s wound. While it had made him feel bad to hurt Saeran in that way, the mark also made him proud.

“Will you remain my Beta for the next five years Yoosung?” That was the only thing left to say, everything else had already been said.

“Yes. Will you remain my Alpha for the next five years?” Yoosung answered and asked.

“Yes.” Saeran whispered. “I reaffirm my devotion to you, and vow once more to be your protector and champion.”

“I reaffirm my devotion to you, and vow once more to be your protector and champion…and lover…and confidant…and friend…and occasional nag…and…” Yoosung went off script.

“OK OK OK!” Saeran laughed and kissed his mate. “I love you dummy.”

“I love you too, idiot!”

#my posts #yooranweek2020 #Yooran #Yoosung Kim #Saeran Choi #mysme #mystic messenger #day 6 Holiday #nudity #not sexually related #description of nudity also not done #rated PG I promise!#biting hard enough to draw blood #also not sexually related #OK #thank you and goodbye

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

Text

Tuesday 7 April 1835: SH:7/ML/E/18/0013

7 40

11 20

No kiss. fine morning F49 ¾° at 8 ½ am - settled accounts breakfast at 8 ¾ - no! had William Barber to say Gill’s son, William he thinks he is called, aetatis 15 or 16, and Turner’s son aetatis about the same had been cutting sticks in the wood on Sunday - offered him 1/. or even would give 2/6 not to tell me of it - Smith Mr Freeman’s delver disputes Barber’s right to look over the wood saying I had given the care of it to Mr Freeman and Mr Freeman had given it to him - Barber shewed me the written authority Mr Briggs had given him as follows ‘I James Briggs do on behalf of Miss Lister hereby appoint William Barber to overlook yew trees wood and I do give him full power to apprehend all trespassers and to secure all cattle and mules that may be trespassing there in as witness my hand this 26th day of April 1828 James Briggs’. Told Barber I had not annulled this authority and it was quite sufficient for him to act under - I had thought him negligent because I had repeatedly seen that mischief was done but yet he never brought anyone forward for doing it - at 1st told him to summon the young men - then said as there was this business about Mr Freeman I would write to him 1st - but Mr Freeman had no power but over the portion let to him for quarrying tho’ it was unfortunately difficult to ascertain exactly what the portion was - then had Joseph Mann to say Holt had sent no gin horse - he JM- had been for one but Holt not at home - off drinking - had given no orders about the horse, therefore his people could not let JM have one - besides, they had not, they said, one to spare - annoyed - JM said his brother had heard of one at Horton - sent Joseph off to bring it on trial price £8 - said I would pay him for his day - breakfast at 9 20 - then out about the house - Richard Woodhead loading a load of rails for Wellroyde wood - Throp junior here - said he had sent the man home last night immediately after I saw him - said I should tell his father I would not have the man about the place again - came to my study at 10 ¼ and wrote the above of today till 10 40 - vexed about Holt - this Machan coal business settled and I shall feel more at liberty - Quaere, whether to get young Stocks to manage for me, or help me? At any rate, he has no interest in common with Messrs. Rawson - what with quarries and coal pits, I shall have pother enough if I cannot right myself - then till 11 5 wrote copy of note to Mr Freeman on the subject of yew trees wood - from 11 5 to 1 20 reading different articles in Hooper’s medical dictionary and in the cabinet Lawyer and read from p. 211 to 263 end of Sir Humphrey Davy’s consolations in travel - singular work - [Lusus] of one of the 1st Savans of his age – 2nd time of reading - much interested as ever - Looking over map to trace route of Sir HD-‘s travels in upper Austria till 2 - Note this morning by John (from the post office) from Mr Bradley to say he would go over to Manchester if I liked putting me to no expense but his travelling expense - 2 engineers there of some note - one not at home - it would be better to see the person than to write - had told Mrs Lawson not to send over - till the weather was favourable - Off at 2 with A- in the carriage - she set me down at Stony Royde and went forwards to Heath - Mrs R- very glad to see me - sat 20 minutes with her - she had heard of my building an Inn at Northgate - I told her a little of my plan - she seemed much interested and pleased - said it would be a great benefit to the town and I could have no difficulty in getting such a house licenced - she was pretty well but looked older since I saw her last - just called at Throp’s - saw Throp junior - he seemed very sorry about his man being drunk yesterday - I desired he (the man) might never come here again on any pretence whatever - then ½ hour at Mr Parker’s office - sat 1/2 hour with Mrs Veitch - looking poorly and having the loose teazing cough of old age - she mentioned Marian’s young friend being gone - I merely replied ‘Is she? but in fact I really know nothing about her’ - then ¾ hour at Whitley’s - (Mr P- said I should only be buying a law suit, if I bought Walsh’s coal - said I would have nothing to do with it - told him I cared not about the Lower George - heard I should get Northgate licenced - we might wait - said I would have nothing to do with Pearson of the Stump x Inn - did not want his fixtures - would rather he took them away - Mr Parker understands Pearson is not willing to agree - Mr Parker wished A- and I would sign the petition in favour of Mr Warburton to be presented to the vicar tomorrow morning - said I objected to sign because fearful Mr W- had in some way compromised himself with the townspeople and that I did not know Mr W- Mr Parker very anxious for him) - Reading at Whitley’s Sir William Gill’s account of the Isle of Ithaca published in 1807 - visited by him in 1806 - interesting - pointing out several principal localities as agreeing with Homer’s description in the Odysseys - A- and I went to Nicholson’s shop for a minute or 2 - then to the Sexton of the old church - he went with into the church to look for the monuments of the late William W- esquire Of Crownest and of the revered Mr Charlesworth - none to be found - ¾ hour in the church - home at 6 40 - Dinner at 6 55 - had Joseph and John Mann - they had been at Horton in Shelf - on Swilling edge and all over, in vain, for a gin horse - sent them to the Fold in the hope of borrowing one there - coffee - ½ hour with my father and Marian - went to my aunt at 9 for ½ hour - she had fallen down this morning about 12 and lay 1 ¾ hour on the floor before Oddy went in and found her - she had called out to Marian who went to her own room soon after my aunt fell, but Marian did not hear - a mercy my aunt was no worse for her fall - slipt down close to her chair with her head on the edge of the chair - complains of headache from it but I hope she will be no worse - sent George to the post tonight and John to Mr Robinson’s of Hipperholme to ask what was done about electing a master for Hipperholme school - nothing - but Mr R- sent his servant with the petition for A- and me to sign - sent my compliments and declined signing - but said I would explain this to Mr R- when I saw him and that A-‘s and my anxiety for Mr Warburton was great - Letter tonight from Lady Stuart at Miss Tate’s 21 Grosvenor street

SH:7/ML/E/18/0014

to say Vere was brought to bed of a son on Sunday morning mother and child doing well - ‘I have not a moment to say more and all public new is so distressing and complicated I could not enter into the subject - I only am told by a friend of H.Ms he is firm - God knows how it will end - of course Lord Stuart’s views at present stand still but Constantinople was out of the question ever affectionately and gratefully yours Louisa Stuart’ - wrote all but the first 4 lines of the last p. and so far of this till 10 25 - fine, but dullish day - F52 ½° at 10 40 pm

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bi-outta-cordonia · 4 years

Text

Sky and Moon, Part I

Note: Had to repost this because it wasn’t showing in the tags. I’m back on my bullshit once again and this time I come bearing a third fic, thus officially making this part of that miniseries I mentioned once. I got an idea for the second part of this but let’s see how the rest of this quarantine plays out first.

Blades of Light and Shadow. Tyril Starfury x f!elf MC (Ashala Venralei). sfw, T with a slight warning for some light mention of mature situations. Tags include: once again slight mention of mature situations from Tyril’s past, a fair amount of angst because of course, some jealousy brewing, bit of a look into the kind of friendship Tyril has with Imtura, and some heavy pining coming from one broody elf man.

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

It starts innocently enough.

The road to Undermount is long and arduous—a trek through cities and villages overrun with ever suspicious humes, bounty hunters likely tracking them from Port Parnassus, opportunistic bandits, and deceitful merchants—ending only once they reach the edge between the vibrant world and the ominous Deadwood. It’ll take them weeks to pass through to Undermount at most, days if they stay the course with minimal distractions.

“With all due respect, Nia—your words are clear and pure in their intent, but not a lick of this matters to me.”

“The foremost scholars—”

Ashala stretches her hands high, the white cords of her hair fall over her shoulder as her chest pushes forward, and she rises to her feet.

“I believe in nothing concerning the Light, but its influence was not ignored throughout my tutelage,” she says. Nia pouts and opens her mouth. “You have your teachings and I have mine. How I pull my power matters little—how effective I am in wielding it will always be my first concern.”

“Pulling from the Light grants a strength that cannot be found in other forms,” Nia counters. “There is Light within all of us—reaching down through the depths exposes this and grants us abilities beyond what we are capable of without it.”

Ashala stares, golden eyes sweeping over Nia and flitting towards Tyril. He averts his gaze, instead focusing on the blade lying across his lap. He runs a whetstone over the metal rhythmically, silently timing every swipe of the stone to an old jingle from his youth.

Everything is unbearable these days, aggravating even. Travel on meager rations and little sleep does nothing to temper the rising tensions between all of them, but he knows better than to blame such minor issues on that alone. For a brief moment, he allows himself a glance in Ashala’s direction and her warm gaze shifts upon someone else. A tilt of his head would tell him exactly where it goes.

Mal stretches across a fallen log—his temporary perch until morning comes. His dark eyes lock with Ashala’s and a familiar look swims about them. If she feels anything about the interaction, her face betrays little. Instead she moves towards her pack, black cloak trailing through the dirt and mud, and kneels down so she can rummage through her things.

“Regardless of the philosophy, the answer remains the same,” Ashala says, plucking a few instruments from her bag and rising to her feet. “I am not training with you, Nia. Your medicinal skills are most valuable and I’ll not risk impairing you.”

Nia huffs. “Well, it still isn’t a good idea to go off by yourself! At the very least, take someone along with you!”

Ashala lets out a long sigh. Her eyes scan the length of the camp—Imtura sits further off looking on with a bemused expression on her face and Mal sits up, tilting his head ever so slightly. Tyril raises his head and finds her staring back. An unsettling quiet fills the space between them. They are stock still for a moment, the complete opposite of predator and prey. His gaze will not be moved and neither will hers. If they were standing they might circle one another. If given the room, their bodies might coil and their magic would spark and clash.

Her mouth opens and, despite everything, he can hear his name clearly on the tip of her tongue. He can hear the sultry whisper of it, the way her voice hovers over the first syllable and how her tongue rolls right into the next.

“Mal,” she says instead, turning towards the smirking rogue, “come.”

An uncomfortable silence follows as the two of them push through the bramble and brush. Mal’s arm snakes around her waist and pulls her in.

The whetstone hits the ground and Tyril walks in the other direction. Footsteps follow behind him—lumbering and heavy—and he ignores them for as long as his feet carry him.

He move down past the brush and into the paths still dotted with lush patches of green. Elves are used to hard things. Rock and earth blend in a daunting mix, their combined use birthing the grand doorways and golden arcs that house what remains of the last living elves in all Morella. Hard is nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. It almost outweighs the softness all around him but then he starts thinking of home all over again and dashes those thoughts in an instant. Small critters scatter out of his way and his brow furrows.

“Seem to have a habit of running things off, elf.”

Tyril tosses an annoyed look back at Imtura, who follows behind him with both hands on her hips and not a single ounce of concern in her body.

“You’ll not fool me with this act, orc,” he counters, whipping back around. “There’s nothing of interest going on. You may return back to camp…Or at the least, spare me from having to pretend you weren’t just trying to pry into my life when I told you all to leave it unexplored.”

She huffs a laugh and he hates that sound. It’s a mix of haughty and arrogant that reminds him a little too much of home, senseless as it sounds.

“You’re having a spat, elf. The two of you will get over it soon enough,” she says, her words somewhat muffled like she’s picking at her tusks.

He seethes for a little while, refusing to dignify the statement with a response. How many times would the governess smack his fingers for this? How many times did his mother pull him in front of the oldest painting hanging on the library wall? How many times did she tell him the story of Aether and the silk sap tree, the picture perfect story of how stoicism brings honor and showing a hand so quickly is a sign of weakness?

How many times will he think of home and think of Ashala? How many times will he let his arrogance bludgeon him?

“This is stupid,” he mutters, knowing full well Imtura can hear him regardless.

“Love—”

“Don’t!” He snaps towards her, low growl rumbling in his throat and teeth bared. Her body braces as if ready to strike and they stare each other down for a long, silent minute. Heat bubbles in him, crackling with an energy all too familiar to him and coursing to his fingertips. Tyril steps back and takes a breath—two—three—before he remembers himself and where he stands. With whom he stands. A small moment of quiet settles between the two of them before he speaks. “Don’t go throwing around words like that. Nothing of the sort exists between Ashala and I.”

Imtura raises a brow at him and he turns away.

“You elves like to make things complex when they don’t need to be,” she says, approaching a stump and taking a seat. “All the weird titles—kelvali and den-something—”

“Kilvali and Dinvali,” he corrects. “Spiritual connection and physical attraction. It makes perfect sense to anyone with a working mind.”

“If you think along those lines, sure. But you ain’t dealing with an average situation back home.”

Back home is different, that much he has long since come to terms with. There was a time where he knew his place was determined and he did everything he could to attain the goals already set for him. His house’s pride became his pride, his desires became everything the house needed in order to thrive. Working towards a singular goal meant the entire house—from the main family to the sub family, even down to the lowliest servant—did whatever needed doing so that Ascendant would eventually fall into their laps.

Whatever needed doing.

Tyril crosses his arms and watches two rabbits dart into the clearing, their little bodies hopping over to the stream and their heads bowing as they sip from the clear water.

Imtura leans back and sighs heavily.

“Have you ever slept with someone for the sake of it?” she asks and he bites his lip. “You ever see a man so fine, you just had to stop him in his tracks and have at him for a bit? How did that work where you came from?”

He chuckles but there’s no humor in his tone.

“You’ll think me pathetic for admitting the truth,” he says. Even still, the memories are no less fond. The moments in between are no less important to him even as he recalls every face, every name he whispered in the dark. “We form bonds the same as everyone else—friendships, romances, liaisons built on sex and nothing else. There was propriety to consider—ah, reputation, when it came to who you spoke to and who you built a connection with. Most of the relationships I knew of other houses were borne out of political social climbing. I rarely met couples that shared the bond of both kilvali and dinvali. That’s taboo where I come from.”

“Hmph,” Imtura snorts. “Complicated. Unnecessarily so.”

“Not everyone gets so easily riled with feats of strength,” he says.

Imtura flexes an arm, fully displaying the pure power laced within every muscle. “We have our own traditions and whatnot—things that get us hot and bothered. But,” she waves her hand as she drops her arm, “this ain’t about me. It’s about why you can’t seem to figure out how to talk to Ashala.”

He frowns deeply. “We speak just fine.”

Imtura hits him with an incredulous look. “You’ve had lovers before, right?”

“Three,” he answers. “But the person I would’ve married was not one of them. She was everything to me but I would never lay with her.”

A small silence settles between them as Imtura ponders his words.

“She would’ve been your wife but you didn’t lo—er…you weren’t into her like…”

“I wouldn’t have slept with her at any point, no,” he finally says. Tyril moves and sits on a log not far from Imtura. The conversation tires him to the point that his legs cannot keep him upright. It’ll be another crisp night if the small but bitter chill of the wind is any indication. “I cared for her,” he says, rubbing his hands together, “but it would’ve been obvious that our marriage was a political one.”

“And the ones you did care about?” Imtura asks. “The ones you…felt strongly about?”

His mouth opens and then closes it. His eyes glaze over and he stares off into the distance.

There were moments in between, most of them fleeting and most of them hidden from the prying eyes of Undermount’s court. The grand game is constant and ever evolving. If there was a point he ever felt he could relax, his instincts would refuse him that respite. House heads were not afraid to use whatever means necessary to secure an advantage, a match, or even a small chance at fueling a rumor.

He can count on both hands and feet the number of times he found himself the target of some lesser house’s pursuits. His tastes were widely known—they had to be if the lesser houses wanted a chance to ascend using him. Conversation was his strong suit, yet another way to engage in battle using wit and wiles, and he reveled in the challenge of those that knew his status. He loved knowing he was sought after because he knew very few would succeed in using him to their full advantage. He was too smart, too condescending at times. Most of the lesser houses have long since been out of practice in traversing the upper echelons of society, but there were those that pressed forward regardless.

Tyril closes his eyes and breathes slowly.

Arrindale—who was the most beautiful man he’d ever known. Witty beyond reason, more daring than he had the right to be. He was absolutely splendid, his family sigil branded in gold all across his body and his eyes were the most brilliant shade of green. The first person Tyril had ever laid with—the very first that walked away from him when his family realized no match would ever come between the two of them so long as House Starfury sought the title of Ascendant.

“Arrindale was my first,” he starts. “The first time I ever slept with anyone was with him. We were young and he was my friend for a long time before we shared that first night together. His family found him a match with someone that could provide a more immediate boost to their social status than mine. I attended his wedding.”

Pythia—the woman that tried to kill him. She was small for an elf but much more resourceful than she had any right to be. Her face never knew a smile for her role in her house was relegated to “fixer.” Every family has one—the one belonging to his house was almost always out and about, trying to put a stop to a situation or prevent it from becoming a scandal before it even starts. Pythia Nightcrest was one of the best duelists in all Undermount and they deeply despised each other because he knew. He knew it was her that snuck into his family’s home one night and nearly ended his life, but his house could never prove it. Every dinner they spent in each other’s presence was wrought with tension. Every encounter could turn bloody at any moment. But even still—

“My second was a woman that tried to assassinate me.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips as Imtura lets out a raucous howl of laughter. “Our families allied some time afterward and every minute I spent around her was tense. Despite that, I was a brasher man once upon a time—and perhaps a bit more invested in the physical aspects of what that relationship could provide. We were supposed to be training the night we first slept together. She had a hold on me I couldn’t l ever shake.”

“Where’s that one at? I’d kill to meet her,” Imtura says, wiping tears from her eyes.

His smile falters.

“Dead,” he answers, sitting upright and clasping his hands together. “Another house attempted to assassinate the head of hers and she died protecting him.”

Imtura balks and grows quiet. “Ah, I…”

“It’s alright. I’ve long since come to terms with it.”

And the last of them—Lusehene. He was the most arrogant and proud man he had ever come to know. Only son of House Starfire, one of the few true rivals to ever hold equal ground to the Starfury name. They were alike in too many ways, a bad match personality-wise but it mattered little. It was Lusehene’s sister that his parents were more concerned with but they never knew of the truth behind the extensive library trips and the long days out he’d spend with Kaya as a cover. Their bond was the closest Tyril had to encroaching taboo—their likeness was comforting and their interactions were far too easy to indulge. Lusehene was umber too, much like Ashala. His hair was white and his eyes were golden. His words were always careful but his haughty demeanor always changed with Tyril.

“The last was Lusehene,” Tyril says, running a hand down his face. “He loved me. I know he did.”

Imtura stares at him for a moment. “He dead too?”

“Scholar.” Tyril lets out a weary breath. “Our bond was discovered and it thrust him in an uncomfortable position—court me for the sake of growing his family’s political power, or step back so they could pursue a match between his sister and I as they originally intended.” He remembers that day vividly—the tears and the stiffness in every move they made. He remembers holding Lusehene tighter to him, pressing his body closer than they had ever been as they shared that last night together. “He rebelled. The fool gave up everything for his love and…and I didn’t return it. I couldn’t, I…I was a different person then. I knew he loved me…and I truly did care for him but I wasn’t…I wasn’t the same person then.”

He looks down and his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach.

“Your love life isn’t exactly all kitten and sparkles, that’s for sure,” Imtura remarks. “One married, one dead, one person you rejected outright… But we all know what’s going on around here—we’ve got eyes, ya know?”

How could they not know?

It’s the worst kept secret between all of them. The fleeting looks tell all the story needed—her quiet is almost always certain but even in the moments where the silence hangs heavy, there’s a hidden layer he can always find his way into with ease. She told him she hated him in the beginning and she was right to. Ashala Venralei was a lowlander, a Lost Child, and he was a fool for seeing only what he wanted.

He ignored the glowing white marks, dotted and dusted all over umber skin—familiar star patterns crisscrossing all over her body, the remnants of what stories her parents carried away from the homeland and supplanted in her young mind. He ignored the wisdom set within eyes that burned brighter than the sun, years upon years of generational pain marring her understanding of a world that refused to teach her but still could not stem the raw hunger for said knowledge stewing in her. He ignored the careful constructs of her magic and the frightening restraint in all her movements. He ignored the building storm that lay dormant within her.

It was easy to push down all that she was at first—there was no need for her to be anything else aside from the haughty, unapproachable mageling. But what he mistook for haughtiness was what pride she still held despite the histories evading her most of her life. What he mistook for unapproachable was the wall she built over time to prevent others from seeing her as weak and easy to exploit. The same way he used the stones and dirt to forge protection against the cutthroat nature of Undermount’s political landscape, Ashala built what she could with the materials she had and it worked.

It worked until they came along.

A priestess of the Light—

And an orcish pirate—

A rogue adventurer—

Tyril frowns.

He’s been a fool many times in his life and he’d be remiss to believe he’d ever stop being foolish in situations where the solution should be simple.

She’s changed him. Maybe he’s changed her in some way too.

“I wish it could be that simple,” he mutters.

“It can be,” Imtura counters. She leans forward, placing a large hand on her knee and snorts. “You’re not used to how people do things out here and that’s fine. If we all knew the answers to everything, it wouldn’t make life as fun to explore. But this whole thing with you and Ash? It’s not good for any of us.”

He sighs heavily. How pathetic to have the one person in the group who cares little for such antics stating the obvious? “I know.”

What else is there to say? What more could he possibly say?

Imtura stares at him for a moment, likely trying to gauge if violence might’ve been the best form of recourse after all but she remains rooted in her spot. He’d almost prefer the violence if it meant not having to pour more thought into the next course of action.

“I’m not saying ‘make a miracle happen.’” She rises to her feet and stretches. “But the Deadwood is right on the horizon. We need everyone to be on their game if we want to survive the trip through and that means we need none of these complications.” She tosses one more look at him before she turns on her heel and marches back towards the camp. “Figure it out, elf.”

Alone once more with only his thoughts to mock him and his pride to remind him that he never stopped being the arrogant man he thought he left back in Undermount. Lusehene, Arrindale, Pythia—perhaps the closest he’s ever come to sharing similar sentiments with this strange woman who burrowed her way into his terrible heart. But even so, what his past taught him is that everyone holds their own desires when it comes to intimacy.

What Arrindale desired of him was power at first. Something to secure title and wealth for his struggling family until he forgot the most important rule—remain stoic until death. Never give in to anything because love means nothing compared to survival.

What Pythia desired of him was an escape. Her fate was sealed the moment she was born to a house that saw her only worth in the blood she could shed. Theirs was a romance woven by flesh, through heated touches and seared into skin that burned away all that plagued them, haunted them, and threatened to consume them.

Tyril briefly shuts his eyes and steadies his breath. What Lusehene desired most was a chance to be whole and true with the man he had come to love. Titles be damned and status be damned—there were more important things than ascendance between them and Tyril knew that then. He knew it but he wasn’t deserving of such intimacy, such devotion.

Young and stupid is an excuse, perhaps. But even then it has nothing to do with age and everything to do with benefit. Nobility means more than just being, it’s the process of assurance that matters just as much. He must be this, he must hold himself above the underserving and court power from those that can push his house to the next step on the ladder to Ascendant. Friendships had to be tailored to benefit him and romance—

His eyes snap open and his hands curl into fists.

Tyril stands and takes one more breath—one more whiff of the crisp air, thick forest, and wet earth beneath his feet.

The path back to camp is long and he thinks there is resolve within his heart. He will wait until the sun sets beyond the trees and submerges the group in darkness. The full moon will hang over their heads tonight and he whispers a prayer to Gallius.

#playchoices #choices #tyril x mc #tyril starfury #tyril #tyril the mage #bolas #blades of light and shadow

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