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#and Julian oddly enough
moonahstone · 2 years
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BBC ghosts spoilers E2
Only minor, the plot will not be ruined or anything, it’s just a funny moment
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These idiots I swear to god
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rhinexstone · 8 months
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Just started DS9 and my little bisexual heart can’t TAKE all these hot people
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M6 with MC who rides a motorcycle? Don't ask where MC got it, they somehow got one and starts riding it all around Vesuvia
The Arcana Mini-HCs: When MC drives a motorcycle
Julian: loves the aesthetics of it but he's rightfully concerned for your health if you crash. will fashion a kind of helmet if you don't have one
Asra: okay but consider - they can enchant the wheels, and then you'll be flying over the rooftops instead of through the streets!
Nadia: it's a horse, but mechanically engineered. this engineering horse girl is fascinated and wants to drive it. she will crash if she does
Muriel: that ... that is very loud. and fast. oddly enough, he does like the idea of something he's unlikely to damage. he'll try it with you
Portia: oh boy. she's in love with it at first sight and if you're not careful it's going to be her motorcycle soon. terrorizes Ilya with it
Lucio: does he like it? yes. does he want to ride it with you? yes. is he secretly a little worried that your machine is cooler than his? also yes
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bakuliwrites · 8 months
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MC Regaining Little Memories From Objects Associate w/ M6
Hi everyone! Here is another one of my headcanons from my old blog. I think this one was a request I had gotten and I really enjoyed writing this one. It was a lot of fun to try to think up some meaningful objects and scenarios. Over time, I've been trying to post some of my old headcanons on to this blog, but I do have a lot of them up on my AO3, if you are curious!
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You and Asra are tidying up the shop one day when you stumble upon a broom closet in the back that you've never noticed. Curious, you attempt to turn the door handle and fortuitously discover that it is unlocked.
The room is tiny, only big enough for you and the other objects inside. There are a few random boxes of trinkets and old ingredients, but what really catches your attention is the dress in the far corner, worn by a slightly eerie, faceless mannequin.
The dress is floaty, billowing. Your fingers find the sleeves, the thin tulle delicate in your careful grasp. Even in the darkness of the closet, the dress seems to sparkle, the crystals bedazzling the neckline dancing jovially in the lamplight just outside. You've been so enamored with the dress, you hardly notice Asra's presence in the doorway behind you.
"You look beautiful, like a jellyfish floating in the gentle summer currents. Carefree and lovely," you whisper aloud. The words were familiar to you, but you couldn't quite place who had said them, or when. When you repeat them in your mind, it's Asra's voice that sounds them out. A flash of a grand party, a masquerade perhaps, dances across your vision. When you finally turn to greet Asra, you see he has tears in his eyes, reserved but joyful. He draws you into a warm embrace and something just clicks in your brain. Finally, you remember Asra and all he meant to you.
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You're quietly reading one afternoon when Nadia enters the room and asks if she might play the organ for a bit. "If I'm bothering you, just say the word!" she offers, but you simply smile. You loved listening to her play, and you didn't get to hear it very often since she was usually busy.
Nadia's fingers begin skillfully dancing across the keys. She's merely warming up at first, which you still take delight in. Her talent shines through even in her simple practice exercises. The notes start to fade in the background as you settle back into your novel, finding yourself fully engrossed. Until you're suddenly drawn out of your concentration by the beginning of a song.
This song is different, though. Something about it is oddly familiar. Bittersweet, like a lost memory. The music swells, lilting and sprightly, before quieting into a melancholy hum. You suddenly find yourself overwhelmed with emotion, though you can't really place why. This music, it echoes through your mind like it once echoed through the halls of the palace, in a time you thought you'd long forgotten.
When Nadia finishes, she looks over to see you quickly wiping tears from your eyes. She opens her mouth to ask what's wrong, but you hush her with a smile. "It's been such a long time since you've played that for me," you whisper. Nadia beams knowingly, before setting off again to play for you like she used to all those years ago.
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Back at Mazelinka's, you and Julian are rifling through stacks of his old papers, ones that you'd managed to pilfer from the palace. You've found nothing of any real use so far, but you have confidence that you might stumble across something.
While Julian is frantically scanning page after page, you find yourself growing still, fixating on just one of them. The edges are yellowed, frayed from water damage. But the handwriting is still legible (well, as legible as Julian's messy handwriting could possibly be). The script doesn't say anything important. It appears to just be a general note about the status of some test he was running, but it's what is written in the margins that catches your eye.
It's your handwriting, littered amongst tiny drawings of what you at first think are worms. But upon closer inspection, you see that you apparently had written, "Watch out! Getting bitten by a leech really sucks." You roll your eyes at how terrible that pun is, wondering what possessed you to write it in the first place, if that really was your handwriting. You grab some ink and a quill from your bag and start to scribble next to the writing. It's a dead ringer for your script.
You feel some happy tears sting your eyes, but when Julian asks you what's wrong, you break out into a wide smile. "You and your accursed leeches!" you exclaim, before bursting into laughter. He looks at you, a bit confused at first, before breaking down into giggles himself. Finally, he thinks, something you both remember.
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You're enjoying a quiet afternoon at Portia's cottage, basking in the sunlight and sipping some tea. Portia is baking something delicious, her dress covered in flour. You offered to help, but she insists you relax. You've been hard at work these past few weeks and deserve a break.
While you're admiring a monarch butterfly that regally flits past the open window, you're hit by a sudden, strange feeling. A familiar scent wafts through the room, warm and sweet. You're practically salivating at the delightful smell. You look across the room to see Portia pulling out a light-golden cake from the oven. After she lets it cool, she brings it to the table and starts to slice into it.
Portia hands you a generous piece and offers to refresh your tea. As she's filling up your cup again, you dig into the freshly baked treat. As soon as it hits your tongue, you can taste the honey and the vanilla, comforting and cozy. It tastes like spring, like a bright memory.
You look up at Portia as she sets your tea down in front of you, your eyes full of wonder. "This is one of my favorites. How did you know?" you venture, but you already know the answer. She smiles cheekily at you. "Call it intuition," she winks. All you can do is smile, overjoyed that you reclaimed your memory of Portia's divine baking skills.
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You enter Muriel's hut, soaking wet and seeking shelter from the sudden storm that raged outside. He quickly directs you to the warmth of his fireplace and gives you some dry clothes. They're much too big on you, but they'll do for now, while you wait for your own outfit to dry. Muriel exits the hut for a moment, just to bring the chickens into their shelter. As your eyes roam the room, they settle on an ornately carved mask sitting on the mantelpiece.
You rise, reaching up to grab the mask. It's beautiful, but something about it seems- familiar to you. Maybe it's pure coincidence that it resembles the animal you consider your familiar. Or maybe, there's a deeper meaning to it. It had clearly been carved with the utmost precision and care. Its colors were striking, but not gaudy. It was breathtaking.
As you turn it over in your hands, you notice some protection runes carved into the inside, just beneath the eye holes. It's like the sun suddenly broke through the storm clouds. Memories come flooding back to you. Masquerades, multiple masquerades. Asra is there, Muriel is- here, at the hut. Carving this mask, just for you.
Muriel returns, soaked now, as well. You whirl around to greet his hulking form, your brows furrowed with an emotion you can't quite place. He notices the mask in your hands and blushes a deep red, looking sheepishly away. You can't help but beam at this. "Thank you for holding onto this for me," you finally speak. He grunts a, "You're welcome," but you notice that he, too, is softly smiling.
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You're sorting through a box of jewelry that Lucio's provided to you, attempting to find one that might go with your outfit. They're all his jewelry pieces, so most of them are a bit garish for your taste. But you need to select something if you're going to attend the masquerade with him that night. You pick past heavily bejeweled, oversized designer pieces, until your fingers clasp around a necklace that you could've sworn you've seen before.
The necklace is delicate, gold and studded with tiny diamonds and milky-white pearls. You hold it up against the lamplight and it glitters luminously. This is it. This is the necklace. Not only does it match your outfit's color scheme, but there's something about it that feels like it is fatefully yours.
"Are you almost ready?" Lucio whines, impatient and eager to get to the festivities. He freezes dead in his tracks when he sees what you're holding up. A blush creeps across his cheeks and he looks away, embarrassed. "Will you help me put this on?" you implore. After a moment, he hesitantly nods. He gently takes the necklace from you and unclasps it. Lucio takes his place behind you and you watch in the mirror as he draws it around your neck and fumbles with the clasp.
As he secures it to you, you're hit with a vision: someone coming up behind you at a masquerade, years ago. Deftly, they fasten the necklace around your neck. When you turn around to see who it could possibly be, you're greeted by an enigmatic figure, done up in golds and reds. Their impish smile and silver eyes are the only things visible behind their ostentatious mask. They bend down to place a kiss on the back of your hand before disappearing once again into the crowd. In the present moment, you whirl around to meet Lucio's eyes, eyes that are familiar from that masquerade so long ago.
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venus-haze · 4 months
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Bad Ritual (Vincent Sinclair x Reader)
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Summary: Some pageant queens sit on parade floats. Being crowned Miss Ambrose requires you to get your hands a little dirty.  [This is an AU]
Note: Woman reader, but no other descriptors are used. Heavily inspired by The Wicker Man and Midnight Mass, as well as my own spin on St. Ambrose, who, among other things, is the patron saint of wax melters. Since this is a cult AU, please check the warnings before reading. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Emotional and spiritual manipulation, morally gray reader, religious sex negativity/sex shaming, elements of Catholicism, human sacrifice. Do not interact if you’re under 18.
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The stage lights threatened to melt your carefully applied makeup off. You held a wide smile for so long your cheeks ached. Your eyes nervously flitted about the crowd of Ambrose’s residents, just barely able to fill three-quarters of the movie theater for the event. When your gaze fell on Vincent in the front row, he gave you a small nod of encouragement that manifested butterflies in your already twisted stomach. Could you help being hopelessly in love with your best friend?
“After much deliberation by myself and the other judges,” Trudy began in her soft drawl, harsh on the edges from her decades-long smoking habit, “we agree without a doubt, the winner of the third Miss Ambrose contest is—“
The microphone screeched when Trudy spoke your name, and the dam broke, bringing about uncontrollable tears of joy and relief. The sound of cheers and applause filled the theater, almost dictating the rhythm of your heartbeat. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done if you lost. In the weeks prior to the competition, you craved victory so badly that it filled the marrow of your bones.
With tears blurring your vision, you made your way over to Trudy. She smiled, placing the ornate wax tiara on your head and satin sash reading ‘Miss Ambrose’ in glittering crimson lettering over your shoulder. She wrapped her arms around you in an unexpected hug.
“Congratulations,” she whispered. “You deserve it.”
Hardly able to utter your thanks, you attempted to compose yourself while she addressed the crowd again.
“I believe we can all agree that this young woman here exemplifies the qualities this community holds dear,” she said, her gaze shifting to you with pride evident in her features, leaving you overwhelmed at the praise of your community’s leader. “If you’d like to share a few words, honey, now’s your chance.”
You nodded, trembling as you stood in front of the microphone. “First, I wanna thank the judges, Ms. Trudy, Father Julian, and Ms. Louann for giving me such a great honor. I also wanna thank my parents for believing in me as much as they believe in this town. Most of all, I wanna say that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than Ambrose, and I just—“ the tears began to flow again, and you managed to get a hold of yourself long enough to add, “I’m so grateful to St. Ambrose for everything he’s done for us. I don’t feel worthy to represent him on his feast day, but I’ll do my best. Thank you.”
Taking a step back from the microphone, you smiled as Louann handed you a bouquet of flowers. Louann was the previous Miss Ambrose and as such had the privilege of serving on the judge’s panel to decide who her successor would be. You were sure she would’ve preferred her own daughter, but she wasn’t interested in competing, an oddly reclusive girl around your age you’d long since given up befriending. Since there were so few people in Ambrose, the pool of young women eligible for the coveted crown was small, and therefore the competition could only be held once every seven or so years. Besides the feast day of your town’s namesake patron saint, the Miss Ambrose competition was one of the most highly anticipated events around.
Being Miss Ambrose was a commitment, but one you’d taken on with pride. Besides helping lead the usual procession through town, you’d serve as an ambassador to the hundreds of tourists who flooded your small town to view the spectacle. Most importantly, you’d finally be allowed to attend the celebratory mass held the night of the Feast of St. Ambrose. You weren’t sure what exactly the criteria for attendance was, but being Miss Ambrose surely meant you were worthy enough to finally go.
You were too young to remember Ambrose being on the verge of ruin when the sugar mill shut down, but your parents never failed to remind you how Trudy convinced them and the other families that comprised your close-knit community to stay. Her unorthodox ideas of shifting the town’s economy to reflect that of its patron saint was risky, but it worked, and Ambrose had carved out a niche for itself in beekeeping, wax-melting, and the artistry associated with it. As such, she was the person everyone deferred to for just about everything. Her word uncontested law. And why not? You all had it pretty good in Ambrose compared to the horrors you’d heard of going on outside the town’s limits.
The festival’s celebrations brought in abundant tourists who would patronize your small town’s shops and businesses en masse. While you understood the importance of the tourism during the festival, you found the raucous way they acted almost disrespectful to St. Ambrose and the reverence he deserved for providing so much for you.
At the very least, photography wasn’t allowed in the church. It was there that the town’s offering to St. Ambrose was displayed, a wax figure, always carefully detailed to look almost indistinguishable from a real person. Tourists could marvel at the statue, but not document it. You didn’t care for them and how they seemed to regard you all as sideshow freaks for being so insular. It especially bothered you that Vincent had to wear his mask whenever they were around. You’d hear them whisper about it, speculating why he wore it. They had no idea it was because of them.
Otherwise, he presented his bare face to your community who regarded it with normalcy. When your family would join the Sinclairs in the pew at mass, you’d occasionally end up sitting next to Vincent. You’d feel his hands, strong and soft from his work, holding the one next to you a little tighter than you normally would during the Our Father. For the sign of peace, in which you’d exchange blessings between clasped hands and chaste kisses on the cheek, he presented the unscarred half of his face to you. Still, you silently wondered what the other half would feel like against your lips.
It felt like you blinked, and you were surrounded by the people you’d grown up with, all looking at you with an unfamiliar yet welcome respect. You basked in the attention like a sunbathing snake, each compliment and affirmation filling your chest with a warm pride.
“Congratulations, sweetheart,” your mother said, giving you a hug with tears in her eyes.
Your father agreed, giving you a pat on the back. “You earned it! We’re so proud of you.”
“Y’all did a great job with this one,” Trudy said.
Your family was one of the dozen or so original families that stayed in Ambrose at Trudy’s urging. She never forgot your family’s loyalty and trust in her, and it wasn’t uncommon for you to sit with them at mass or be invited to their house for a meal or a holiday. You reveled in any extra time you got to spend with Vincent, although being in the presence of your town’s savior always left you in awe.
“C’mon, a lot of that’s thanks to you, Trudy, mentoring the kids and teaching catechism on top of everything else you do,” your mother said.
While Father Julian was the parish’s pastor, most spiritual matters went to Trudy, and her decision was final. She taught catechism and set the standards for receiving sacraments. It caused friction with the larger diocese, and not long after you made your first communion, St. Ambrose’s parish split from the Vatican. Trudy had explained they lost their way, and that Ambrose was the only place practicing real Catholicism. That was why new families moved in, looking for the truth. You felt lucky to live in such a place.
“I’ve got big plans for you, girl,” Trudy said. “‘Specially with the festival coming up.”
You nodded. “Of course, Ms. Trudy. Whatever you need.”
She walked away, and you noticed Vincent subtly motioning toward the service exit behind the stage. 
“Ready to head home?” your mother asked.
“I’ll catch up. There are a few people I want to talk to first,” you said.
Your father nodded. “Alright, well, don’t stay out too late.”
Once they had left, you didn’t see Vincent in the theater anymore, and managed to slip outside undetected a few minutes later, fending off your horde of admirers. There was only one person whose attention you really wanted, anyway.
He stood outside, waiting for you in the shadows of the building. Your heels clicked against the asphalt as you walked over to him.
“Congrats, Miss Ambrose,” Vincent signed. He smiled, reaching up to adjust the tiara atop your head.
“I don’t look ridiculous, do I?”
He shook his head. Your face heated up when his hands made gentle contact with your skin. He traced your gestures with the pads of his thumbs, brushing your forehead, down to your cheeks, and finally to your lips. Vincent cradled your face in his hands for a moment longer before kissing you.
Without hesitation, you kissed him back, taking in the texture of his lips, the warmth of his body. His hands fell to your hips, pulling you closer. Steadying yourself on his bicep, you silently marveled at his strength, gasping into the kiss and allowing his tongue access to your mouth. 
Despite having heard homilies at mass and ramblings from Trudy about the sin of fornication outside of marriage, you didn’t know what exactly they were talking about until the summer after you started high school. Bo had taken pleasure in explaining the dirty details, offering to give you a demonstration. You rejected him in disgust at how lewd he made the act sound, and until then, in Vincent’s arms, you didn’t understand how anyone could fall into that trap. 
You whined softly when he pulled away from the kiss.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he signed.
“Why did you wait?”
He nodded toward the door. His mother. For how similar he and Trudy were, they always seemed to butt heads. Still, he was the son she spoke most highly of. Vincent, the focused, dutiful son who’d inherited his mother’s artistic ability and connection to the spiritual core of the town. Her feelings on Bo changed with the weather, though it seemed he was poised to become the public face of Ambrose. A good fit, he could talk his way in or out of almost anything. Lester kept a lower profile, but he was always around to help whenever someone needed a hand. If you were being honest with yourself, you thought he was the best fit to take over Trudy’s leadership duties in Ambrose, but she always had a clear preference for the twins. 
With Vincent being Trudy’s favorite, she’d be incredibly selective about who his potential partner would be. All relationships in town had to be cleared by her. She’d shut people’s requests down for petty reasons. Now that you were Miss Ambrose, there was no reasonable way she could object to you being with Vincent.
“Maybe after the festival, we can ask her,” you whispered hopefully.
He nodded, though he practically jumped away from you when the door outside swung open, clanging against the brick wall behind it. 
Bo stood in the doorway, a knowing grin on his face, partially obscured by the shadows. “Lookit you. Bagged Miss Ambrose herself. Never thought you had it in ya, Vinny.”
“What?” Vincent signed.
“Mama’s lookin’ for y’all. I can tell her you’re busy.”
Vincent rolled his eye at Bo, “We’ll be right there.”
When the door slammed shut, Vincent kissed you again, more quickly this time, and the two of you set off to find Trudy. 
Still backstage, socializing of course, her time was a precious resource nearly everyone in town was vying for. The Miss Ambrose contest was as good of a time as any for people to catch a few minutes with her, bring up concerns or ask for advice while she was available. Her eyes lit up when she saw you and Vincent together. 
“Just the people I wanted to see,” she said, as if she hadn’t sent Bo searching for you. “Vincent’s gonna be making the offering for the festival this year, some other things too to help his old mama out. Can’t do as much as I used to. You’ll help around too, won’t you?”
“I’d love to. Anything you need, just tell me.” 
“You got a good head on your shoulders. Wouldn’t’ve dreamed of crownin’ those other two. Daphne had some nerve even competing after that stupid stunt she pulled last year,” Trudy spat.
The previous year, Daphne had publicly challenged Trudy on a new directive regarding new families that moved into town and their church attendance. It was an innocent enough remark, but the principle of the thing got to Trudy. She was spiteful and vindictive, one to hold a mean grudge, but you supposed those traits were necessary to be a leader like she was. 
“Then that Christine’s a hussy. Tried to make my Bo stumble.”
You had a sinking feeling it was the other way around, and Bo had sold his mama some backwards story after his advances were spurned. You once heard someone say he could flirt the panties off of a nun. Not entirely untrue, but he was too impatient and entitled to accept anything other than complete compliance with his sexual desires. 
“I’m sure you’re not surprised Louann’s daughter didn’t bother. Might’ve given you a run for your money,” she said, looking almost unimpressed by you for a split second.
“Well, I guess we’ll never know,” you said. “I can’t tell you enough how much this means to me.”
“You deserved it, honey. Gonna be a lot of work for you the next few weeks, but I think you can handle it.”
She shooed you away, telling you to go home before it got too dark. You almost laughed. In your small community, everyone knew each other. You were just as safe walking around at 2pm as 2am. Nothing bad ever happened in Ambrose. At least, not like the horrors of the outside world you’d gleaned from the few times you bothered to watch the nightly news. All it did was confirm how lucky you were to live in a place like Ambrose, where you wanted for nothing and had few worries, didn’t have to fear what could be lurking in the dark.
“I’ll walk her home,” Vincent volunteered.
Trudy nodded. “Good. You give my parents my best, now.”
“Of course, have a good night,” you said.
When you were a safe distance from the movie theater, far from wandering eyes, Vincent took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the top of it. The walk to your house would be short, but you wished for miles more to spend walking alongside him. Alone. He stole half a dozen more kisses from you while the two of you dragged out the walk to your front porch. If not a kiss, then his hands would be on you–the small of your back to guide you along or intertwined with yours as his thumb brushed soft circles on the top of your hand.
“I’m not going to see much of you for a while, am I?” you asked softly as your house finally came into view.
He shook his head. From what you understood, the offering was the most important part of the Feast of St. Ambrose. He’d already gotten lost in his work, whether additions to the wax museum or personal projects, but something so crucial would be sure to consume him until the day arrived.
A sad smile spread across your lips, though you understood. 
The next few days, you didn’t see much of Trudy or Vincent, instead helping around town with the various preparations for the Feast of St. Ambrose. You decorated the statue in the middle of town, an elaborate wax effigy of the patron saint, created by Trudy herself. As you covered it with carefully crafted floral wreaths and vines, people already began leaving small offerings at the base of the statue.
Just before the festival, you found time to visit Vincent, basking in the warmth of his studio, practically a furnace. Opera music grew louder as you approached. You’d spent time with him down there before, able to find your way from any of the subterranean entrances throughout town. 
Either the music was too loud, or he was too entranced in his work to notice you enter. His broad back was turned to you as he leaned over a work table in deep focus. A woman. Nude, bound to the table yet seemingly unable to move otherwise. Still you heard them through her gag. Her moans. Vincent’s hands were all over her body, caressing her curves with care, fingers tracing her features. A blinding envy flashed through you. 
“Vincent,” you snapped.
He turned around, shock that quickly twisted to rage. “What are you doing here?” he signed. “Get out!”
“No! Who is she?”
“It’s not what you think—“
“I’m Miss Ambrose!” you shouted. “Me! What does she have that I—“
“She’s the offering,” he signed.
You froze, your gaze shifting to the bound woman once more. “That’s not–you’re lying.”
“Why would I lie?”
“You’re going to kill her?”
He nodded. Her muffled screams grew louder. “The offering is killed and then encased in wax for St. Ambrose.”
No wonder photos weren’t allowed in the church during the festival. He eyed you cautiously, expecting you to run away screaming.
“Can I watch you do it?”
He hesitated. 
“Please, Vincent?” you asked softly. 
“I just don’t want you to think of me any differently.”
“For doing what’s right? For making sure we’re provided for? We’re not messed up. The rest of the world is.”
With a newfound confidence, he grabbed the knife on the tray next to the bound woman, and you watched in awe as he lifted his arm above her chest and swiftly plunged it perfectly through her heart. Before he could pull the knife from her still warm flesh, you placed your hand over his and dug the blade in a little deeper. 
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[Starship Icarus] IV
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Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Summary: Mills finally meets his sleepin' gal.
WC: ~5.8K
*
You woke up as if from a grumpy nap as a child. Had you been a teenager, you would have rolled over, wrapping your blanket around you like a burrito and asked for five more minutes. Followed by trying to sleep for an hour or more.
The screen rose into view as your pod tilted. Your body gradually became accustomed to weight and gravity again, in a way that made you aware of the endless vessels carrying fluids all throughout the landscape of your flesh. You shuddered at the sensation and only listened to the voice greeting you and guiding you out of stasis without opening your eyes.
“We have nearly completed the voyage from Earth to Homestead II, where you begin your exploratory mission. Homestead II is the second planet outside Earth’s solar system to be colonized and the first in the Bhakti system to be explored,” she spoke in her serene, mechanical voice and you started testing out your newly awakened body. Deep breath, balling up a fist, swallow, blink, neck pop. The pod, cracked open like an egg from which you were meant to hatch, wheeled you to the door.
“…the Icarus is on final approach. For the next four months, you’ll enjoy space travel at its most luxurious.” You huffed an unimpressed little laugh and you were satisfied your contrariness was intact after a century in deathlike-sleep.
“…let’s get you to your cabin where you can get some rest.”
*
You remained in your cabin only long enough to follow the protocol, drink some resurrection juice and receive your luggage. It was nice and spacious in there, and you were gratified your Moroccan leather pouf was already waiting. You could immediately tell you’d be taking it easy and resting for a day or two until you were feeling more like yourself. A relaxing bout of reading with your feet up on the pouf and some fragrant tea steaming in a mug sounded heavenly.
As soon as you were out of your stasis gown and dressed in your own clothes, you went out in search of the other passengers. It was a little eerie to be alone, with only holos and machines for company.
“Hello?” you called out softly, voice still croaky from disuse. “Anybody around?” you asked casually, not wanting to come across as too eager or discombobulated. Silly thing to worry about in the face of colonizing a new planet.
A figure of a tall man shimmered behind a fountain and you stopped for a moment. Still groggy, you wondered if you weren’t just seeing weird shadows. Surely, the polite thing would have been to respond if he’d seen you. “Hi?” you offered, prepared to feel silly if you’d just greeted a mechanical ficus or a waylaid coat rack.
“Hi,” he responded in a gravelly voice and finally came fully into view as you passed the fountain. You watched each other in silence for a few moments. On your end, you were trying not to give him blatant elevator eyes or burst into girlish giggles. He looked right out of superhero central casting, the kind of ruggedly good-looking that was reserved for Brawny man commercials and bodice-ripper front covers.
Gingerly, as if he might scare you off, he took a few tentative steps closer. You did the same and stopped when there was a friendly, but polite distance left between you. “Are you passenger or crew?”
“Passenger. Julian Mills,” he was looking at you without blinking. He was probably just as disoriented as you.
You gave him your name and extended a hand. Julian looked at it oddly. It felt like offering a starving man a juicy steak. When he took it, his hand large and pleasantly warm, he held it for a long moment.
“I didn’t see anyone else from my row wake up yet. What about yours?” you asked, still more sleepwalking than awake. He stopped shaking your hand, but still held it.
“Same on my end.”
Thoughts were slow to crawl through the fog of your brain. It was increasingly frustrating to feel yourself sluggishly process information that should be received instantly. “The crew is supposed to wake up a month before we do,” you observed, looking around, somehow already knowing you wouldn’t find anyone else. The reassuring sheath of his hand around yours slipped away as you twisted around.
*
God, she was quick on the uptake. It had taken Mills hours and a long bout of sleep to even get his brain working again. She was quick and smart and beautiful. And he loved her so much already.
“I haven’t seen anybody else so far,” she added, confused, but hopeful.
His heart squeezed guiltily. He knew living with his actions would be difficult, but it felt worse in ways he could not have anticipated. “The crew is still asleep.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive, ma’am.”
“Miss,” she corrected and he wanted to smile at that. It was the snippy tone he recognized from before and his chest melted like honey. “That makes me feel ancient.”
“Miss.”
“Um, back to the topic at hand,” she still felt loopy and it showed. “Who’s going to land the ship? We’re arriving in a few weeks.”
To make short work of it, Mills took her to the observatory. The same little panorama showing how screwed they were informed her of their whereabouts, now approximately two years closer to Homestead II than when he was there the first time.
“The others aren’t late waking up,” he said when he saw the same rejection in her expression that he felt initially. “We’re early.”
Her mind was beautifully clear and logical, so he led her down the same path he stumbled down many months before, without even needing to suggest the next steps. He battled with feeling impressed and smitten, and having to watch emerging hopelessness and panic grip the woman he loved.
The crew were in their inaccessible area, messages took decades to travel to and fro, it was impossible to break into key areas, impossible to get back into the pods.  
Finally panic set it and he let her run off, in search of her pod. He gave her time, appreciating that she would want to have whatever breakdown was to ensue privately. It was the smallest bit of decency he could afford her.
When he eventually decided he should look in on her, she was still looking for a way back in feverishly. He indulged her, letting her try to convince him there had to be a way, as desperate and incoherent as she was being. He would spend the rest of his life happily paying penance now that she was with him, indulging her until his dying breath.
He led her past the wreckage in front of her crew room, where he had been unsuccessfully trying to break in with every implement he could think of. She agreed to take a seat in and some deep breaths, a sedative if need be. He half carried her as she slumped into his side, knees wobbly from over-excitement. She paused and took in the marks of a labor than had clearly gone on for months.
“How long have you been awake?” she looked up at him and frowned. Realization sharpened her gaze and he looked for any signs of accusation, of pulling away. None yet, he was momentarily relieved.
“Close to two years.”
Her hand lifted to her lips in horror and he could swear she was about to cry.
“Come on, it’s right through here,” he secured a firm hold around the curve of her waist and directed her towards a lounging area of the Grand Concourse.
*
“You remember the facility you had to go to? Where they put you under? The procedure has to be done with special equipment, pretty much only in lab conditions. It’s multi-faceted and it takes a long time. There is no such equipment on the ship, or anyone with expertise to do it. The pods we were in are just designed to maintain stasis for a certain length of time and wake us up.”
She listened, despite all the effort it took, and Mills could see her try to stave off more fits. Her body was tightly coiled, rocking back and forth in a tiny orbit, teeth chewing anxiously on her thumbnail. She was quiet for a long time, occasionally shaking her head, in disbelief or refusal.
“I don’t want to condescend in any way, but I’ve been through what you’re feeling now. You should believe I’ve tried everything I could think of.”
“Two years…” she shook her head. Her eyes were full of pity when she looked at him again. He couldn’t stand to meet her earnest gaze for longer than a moment.
“You should sleep,” he suggested gently. “It will clear your head, I promise. You probably feel like it’s full of cotton wool now.” She wouldn’t confirm and he decided not to tell her anymore about what ‘she must be feeling’. “Drink that freaky pink stuff from the water dispenser, it’ll feel good. In the morning, you’ll… I can’t promise you’ll feel much better, but you’ll be more yourself.”
She was still too shocked to cry, as he had been at first, so she just looked defeated. Still, she stood up and opted for the correct corridor to make her way to her cabin, which was impressive.
“I can walk you to your cabin,” Mills suggested as casually as he could, even as his heart climbed into his throat and choked him. “The layout can be confusing,” he fumbled, losing confidence when she didn’t nod vigorously or give some other indication she wanted him. He should have just said I’m taking you - in fact, I’m also holding your hand. And I’ll be there first thing in the morning when you wake up.
“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” she said out of some self-sufficient, considerate habit.
She didn’t want his company. He tried not to spiral out. Sure, she’ll want to process this unimaginable calamity. However, he would have given anything, anything at all, to have someone with him on that first day. God, that first night, how awful it was, in endless solitude. And there she was, bravely walking away, sure that she would find a way to fix it.
“Almost two years…” she repeated, this time in a sigh that made him weak. “I’m so sorry you were alone for so long. It must have been torture.”
“It was,” he choked out, wondering if his face looked as guilty as his thoughts.
She shared a convivial silence with him before surrendering to her exhaustion. “Goodnight.”
*
Mills knew he would not be getting a wink of sleep that night. His blood felt like stinging electricity in his veins, shocking as it pumped through him.
“What’ll it be, Mills?” Clyde greeted in his subdued way.
“The usual.”
“How’s yer day been?” he asked just to make conversation. Mills’ paranoid brain detected a non-existent tone of accusation.
Mills swished the bourbon for a long moment, gaze lost in some private distance. “You know I have the worst luck in the world?”
“How’s that?”
“My prom date broke her leg after I asked her out – never made it to actual prom. I once gave CPR to a guy who’d been in a car crash. He sued me for fracturing some of his ribs. The company I worked for was the only one in the colonization business, right up until I was supposed to embark on the first mission. Then they went under. The one woman I’ve been unable to get out of my head is right under in front of me, right under my nose forever… and I can’t get to her.”
Clyde countered with his own programmed backstory – how his pa lost his diamond, how his uncle Stickley was electrocuted, how his ma got sick after she got their daddy’ settlement, how his brother blew his knee out and ruined a promising sports career, how he lost his hand…
“She’s awake,” Mills interrupted the story he had heard many times before, half-compunction, half-defiance.
There was only one she Mills had mentioned in all these months, so Clyde did not need to ask for clarification. “Congratulations,” he offered and Mills stared back, face not displaying the usual markers of happiness or satisfaction around the eyes or mouth.
“That’s whatcha wanted,” Clyde prompted, as though Mills’ circuitry failed for a moment and he was trying to get it back on track.
Mills could have strangled him. For the crime of being completely right.
“Ya don’t look happy,” the bartender noted and waited for an explanation.
“Can androids keep secrets?” Mills asked, realizing he should have wondered about that much sooner.
“I dunno ’bout androids, but gentlemen can,” Clyde responded solemnly, “and I consider myself one.”
Mills nodded. “Don’t tell her.”
“Don’t tell her what?” Clyde asked back earnestly. To him, borrowing her pen and waking her out of stasis were probably on par and he needed explicit instructions as to what to keep from her.
“Don’t tell her that I woke her,” Mills hated saying it out loud. “Let me do it in my own time.”
“’Course,” Clyde agreed all too easily, blissfully bereft of morals.
*
What if she likes short blond dudes? Mills wondered as he lay sideways on his prison cot of a bed. Still wide awake, he had his hands folded behind his head, eyes staring unseeing into the creamy ceiling. Some Aryan ideal? Maybe a British accent? A long coke nail? A nipple ring? He could be as much not her type as she was perfectly his.
How long, then, before she was ready to give in? To touch him like he craved, even if she didn’t really like him at all? It seemed an inevitability, even if he hadn’t known, from the earliest memories as a boy breaking hearts on the playground, to his exploits as an adult, precisely the kind of effect he had on women. What a sick thought, and one he kept having despite himself, counting greedily down to it.
*
It had been years since you woke up crying. The last time had been from a nightmare when you were still a teen. You’d forgotten it was possible to wake up already sobbing and salty with tears.
That next morning, you’d arisen, implausibly, even more desperate and disconsolate. If it even was morning. If time was reckoned the same way out here, or reckoned at all. If it was, then it was inexorably ticking down to your death, hurtling towards you like those glittering, burning stars sprinkled around your charging ship, dragging you into oblivion and making your fleeting existence truly pointless.
*
“No hibernation pod has malfunctioned in thousands of interstellar flights,” the holo assured you.
“I’m telling you, mine has!”
“Hibernation pods are failsafe,” it responded contentedly and Julian recognized the same conversation he once had as he approached.
“And yet, I’m awake! What a conundrum, hm?” you planted your hands on your hips, as though scolding. He took in the pose and smiled sadly.
“Dumb machine,” you muttered when you realized you’d get nowhere with that piece of junk.
“Happy to help!”
You gave it the middle finger as you turned to leave and join Julian on the way to the mess hall.
*
Behind you, there was a failure with the greeter holo. Its blue light blinked erratically and powered down, the blue circles along its crescent base turning black as they died one by one. You were too frustrated to look back and Julian was too distracted by you. He walked up to your side, eyeing the small of your back and the swell of your ass under it, hand tingling with desire to rest.... on either one. He missed how the sphere flickered and shut down. Deep in the bowels of the ship, red letters flashed warnings on screens before guttering out. No burial was had and their ghosts were snatched piecemeal out of the ether by other systems, carrying on some of their work, while the other bits, both crucial and banal, stopped like broken clocks.
*
“Have you eaten?”
“No. And I could eat a horse,” she said unselfconsciously and he nodded.
“Gold class breakfast,” the dispenser announced when he was already seated. The unfamiliar pronouncement made him crane his neck curiously.
She carried over a tray laden with food and tucked into it as soon as she sat down. They ate in silence until she had to come up for air. It was then she noticed his soylent beige and black coffee. “Yeesh. I feel like a glutton,” she muffled, a big bite still filling out her cheeks.
He shrugged. He was enjoying the sight of her delighting in her meal too much to care about having the same gruel for the millionth day in a row. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just not a gold class passenger.”
“What?” she frowned and her hand shot up in front of her mouth in case some food came flying out. Mills was amused to see her eyes widen as the information soaked in. “No way! Are you kidding me? What is this wannabe class bullshit?” she was outraged and he ached at the fact that she could muster this emotion for him in the middle of all her turmoil.
He just shrugged again, trying not to grin around his spoon of bland soylent. He should have realized this revelation would incense her proletariat spirit.
“Have you been…eating just that? This whole time?” she tried to ask evenly, not to make him feel bad.
“For breakfast, yeah,” he said. It had been so long that he just couldn’t bother being upset about it anymore.
She, however, shot out of her seat. “Let me get you something! What do you want?” she entreated, flustered with the desire to do something kind for him. It was such a genuine compassionate act that guilt overwhelmed him again. What would she do if she knew, he wondered while she made her way over and examined the menu.
“Nah, I’m fine,” he protested half-heartedly. He had never been much of a fruit and veggie guy back home, but over a year in, he would take kale and rambutan and kumquat and fucking chard, just to remember how much he didn’t enjoy any of it.
She slid a tray heavy with food in front of him, from crispy bacon and hashbrowns, to scones and cut up papaya and dragon fruit, with some foamy coffee that smelled overly sweet. But he’d be damned if he didn’t down that odious concoction all the same.
He stabbed some dragon fruit with its Dalmatian dots embedded in the white flesh, chuckling at the sight.
“You like dragon fruit?” she asked, slowly recovering from her mortification.
“I hate it!” Mills proclaimed happily and popped it into his mouth.
*
During the day, and the next several ones, you kept suggesting different options. Checking out the infirmary, the cargo hold, the comms room, building your own pods…
We can’t do that, Julian would reply, or that didn’t work, I already did it, as he shot every idea down.
“You’re not even considering—” you snapped, losing the battle to frustration.
“I’ve considered all of it,” Julian assured, effortlessly patient. “I’ve tried it, I promise you. Everything you can think of, and then countless other things.”
He seemed ready to settle down and give into this trudge into the void. The mere thought of it made your pulse skyrocket and sent you hyperventilating.
“I’m not ready to give up,” you said unsteadily as your breath kept sliding out of your lungs without ever oxygenating you.
*
For the next few days, you consciously avoided Julian as you put your ideas into action. You tried and failed, just like he said you would.
Eventually, to keep yourself busy and try to make sense of some of your thoughts, you started keeping a log. Whether it would become a personal diary or a document you would try to submit in order to detail what happened to you and Julian to the company, you were not yet sure.
“Why did you do it?” you asked as you approached the desk where he tinkered with something that looked like half of a set of binoculars.
He looked up like a TV frozen on an uncanny distorted image.
“Join the mission,” you clarified as you pulled out the notes you’d been keeping for your log. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been thinking of making some notes… Not sure for what yet, but I was wondering if you’d let me interview you?”
“Sure,” he became warmer again and put down what he was working on without complaint. “But what do I have to say that would interest anyone?”
“You are the first hibernation failure in the history of space travel. The first recorded one, at least,” you added with your distrustful tone and he smiled at that. He really could be distractingly handsome and you had to consciously hold back from trying to tease out more of those rakish smiles. “That’s major news.”
“Mh,” he nodded, “I’d love to be regarded as the first and biggest failure in something,” he had a delightfully sardonic wit and you smiled for the first time in days.
“You’re not in bad company.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“The Wright Brothers,” you supplied and he leaned his head side to side, weighing your words.
“Henry Ford, Albert Einstein...”
“You’re making me blush,” he gave a coy flick of the wrist, so at odds with his classical masculinity.
“Thomas Edison,” you added the last name that usually followed on that list.
“His fortune turned, I believe, when he started stealing,” he noted with a shrewd look on his face.
“Yeah. Forget that asshole,” you conceded.
“I take your point,” he said and added in a smaller voice, “it’s very kind of you.”
You interviewed him and learned not just about his life, but the hushed up history of the mission to Homestead II. Julian relayed how he was first advised to take a demotion, and after the company was almost bought out by some deranged South African autocrat rich off his parents’ blood diamond legacy, suddenly the old crew were no longer eligible. He also detailed the many months of solitude, replete with a vacillating mental state and copious misadventures. Although he didn’t pity himself or linger on the details, he was candid and you felt comfortable asking whatever question came into your head.
“And do you think you’ve, for lack of a better word, resigned yourself to this situation?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes as you asked that. You were too conflicted and that look would surely hurt him to see.
“I’m not entirely sure. A lot can happen in a day, let alone a year or a decade. So I can’t say I’m resigned. But I understand how it can seem that way to you,” he said kindly and waited until you looked back at him. “You don’t have to accept any of this. You’ve just woken up. It must be irreconcilable and unthinkable to you now—”
You shook your head. “I’m scared of accepting it, and doing it so effortlessly. It’s actually so much easier to give in than I anticipated. I expected... I had more fight in me than that.”
He leaned in closer, moving with urgency. “It’s not ab-,” he started passionately, but then rephrased, “I don’t’ think it’s about being brave or strong. You also need to see sense and recognize reality. And you seem to be… scarily good at that.”
You gave a bitter laugh. “Reality is something I can’t wrap my head around. To be traveling, until the end of my natural lifespan – which is effectively forever – and never arriving. I’ve never… conceptualized futility on such a stark level.”
Julian let the angst hang in the air, giving it the respect it demanded. Then he sighed and tried to approach you from another angle. “A wise android once told me that you shouldn’t get so hung up on where you’d rather be and squander the chance to enjoy where you are.”
You pursed your lips and considered.
“I’m sure it sounds like a platitude now, but it’s helped me in some ways over time.” Julian didn’t press for any answer or acceptance out of you, placidly returning to his work and sitting with you in companionable silence.
“Thank you,” you said after a while.
“What for?” he scoffed, sounding amused.
“For everything,” you didn’t want to embarrass him and enumerate all the small kindnesses and comforts he had provided to you as you woke up and realized the situation you were in.
It was obvious in his expression he did not think he had helped much. You hoped to change his mind. With any luck, he wouldn’t begrudge you avoiding him earlier.
“I should meet this Clyde,” you shifted to brighter topics, “he sounds like a character.” You had yet to meet the android bartender. Drinking or sitting in some simulacrum of a bar didn’t sound very appealing before, but you might as well check out more of the ship, you reasoned.
“Let’s go for a drink tonight, then,” Julian floated the idea. You couldn’t tell if he really was as nonchalant as he seemed, or if his eyes were trained on the object in his hands strategically, to give off that appearance.
You decided he probably wasn’t thinking of it as a date, but you could still feel the intent of him, filling the space around you. His presence, heavy and commanding, even when he didn’t mean to exert it over you.
“Yeah, sounds good,” you responded, suddenly preoccupied with your pad. You thought you felt him steal a glance as you looked away and it took great effort not to smile to yourself.
*
In her absence, Mills had noticed one of the little roombas repeatedly run into a corner as he walked by it on one of those lonely days. He didn’t think much of it. Its sensor could have broken or he himself could have been fucking with it too much out of sheer boredom that it somehow malfunctioned. After pondering whether he should bother trying to repair it, he decided not to since there were enough of those critters crawling around.
As they walked towards their cabins, through one of the pod rooms, he noticed two roombas rolling on as normal and was satisfied with his earlier decision.
“So now that all of this happened, do you still think sending large numbers of people on such missions is a good idea?” she probed. He was thinking about the same thing, watching them clustered together in their life-sustaining coffins.
“I think they would say yes,” he evaded the question, “you can’t categorize people into yes’s or no’s, ones and zeroes.”
“Homestead can. Into zeroes in its account.”
“I don’t dispute that. But you can’t know all these 5,000 people and their reasons to participate. Some of them could be very good.”
“Maybe so, but I know people at large really well. And I’m good at seeing when they’re being exploited.”
“But what about who they are? What drove them to be here? This guy?” he picked out a familiar face. “Can you tell anything about him? Is he a banker, teacher, or gardener?” he asked playfully and she accepted the challenge, peering over the lid.
He looked stern, with defined, robust features, austere even in repose. “Banker,” she guessed as he thought she would.
“Gardener.”
She frowned. “Probably gardens some gnarly, mean looking plants.”
“Madison, Donna, or Lola?” he covered the information plate on another pod and cocked an eyebrow at her.
“Donna. That fits a redhead.”
“Madison.”
“No way!” she peeled his hand off and checked her name. It was true. Mills was grateful she took some time to look on, taking in her face and reading the information about her because he was still reeling from feeling her skin on his again. “Midwife,” she said wistfully and her face fell. “Right. Some babies are bound to be born up there.”
He could feel them both carefully avoid the other’s eyes. Babymaking was an unhelpful thought to linger on just then. “Another sucker selling a useful profession?” he guessed at her thoughts.
“No. I mean, yes, it’s useful. But I was just thinking… It’s silly. But it occurred to me how we probably would have been friends.”
“You think you can tell these things?” Mills asked, living and dying a hundred times in the space it took her to respond.
“Of course. You know these things instinctively. Call it what you want, intuition, ancestral wisdom, something you carry in your bones. We’re still humans, even if we’ve soared among the stars. We’d gravitate to each other,” she concluded and he felt lightheaded. “Besides, my grade school best friend was also named Madison,” she shrugged, “it would have been an easy point in her favor,” she tossed a smile over her shoulder and moved to keep going, but a glance to the pod next to Madison’s rooted her to the spot. He almost bumped into her and felt a cold sweat dew on his skin at the idea of touching so much of her body with so much of his.
“Alicia,” Mills sounded out her name. A-lee-see-a, he pronounced it in the correct Spanish way.
“I know her. She had a rather severe change of heart and wanted to stay back,” she double checked her information just to be sure.
“Why didn’t she?”
“I‘m not sure. I lobbied for her contract to be voided and for someone to be taken off the waiting list and take her place. But they decided not to for some reason.”
“Or she decided.”
“I don’t know… She seemed pretty adamant from what I’ve seen,” she huffed, still bothered by the situation. “It doesn’t seem right, you know? To make that decision for her. Force her into something she didn’t want.”
“It doesn’t,” he agreed and crossed his arms over his massive chest, determined not to fan the guilt her words ignited.
“You’d know all about that,” she muttered.
His heart stopped. “What?” he felt his shame was written plainly on his face when she turned to him.
“With your pod malfunctioning and having to deal with it alone for so long. It’s the last thing you wanted. At least she’s asleep.”
She sensed he didn’t want to talk about it, and he let her fall quiet. Then she rubbed his arms in support and he felt even worse.
*
Mills was already waiting at the bar when she came around the corner. The still unfamiliar rhythm of her steps as they approached through the Grand Concourse folded a thousand origami cranes in his gut and they all soared, pulling his heavy body with their flight as he turned to look at her.
She had on a simple outfit of black turtleneck and high-waisted checked skirt, with a pair of what his onetime fiancée would refer to as sensible heels. She was breath-taking.
He smiled as he got up to greet her, like a proper gentleman, and offered his hand to help her hop up onto the stool. “You look wonderful,” he tried not to sound licentious and make things awkward.
If she was flustered, she didn’t show it too badly. “Well, I packed this. I thought I might as well wear it.”
“Sure,” he nodded slyly. He wasn’t about to let her reject the compliment. “And you look wonderful in it.”
Finally, she relented and tried not to smile too broadly. “Thank you. You both look very handsome,” she glanced from him to Clyde with a hint of humor in her voice.
“Clyde’s a sharp dresser for sure,” Mills joined in and Clyde accepted the compliment.
For a time, Clyde was prompted to recount some of Mills’ notable misadventures over the last two years, including his nudist period, his Rasputin phase, and the mini Olympics he staged with the roombas. When the laughter died down, what swam to the surface was the awareness that all of these stories took place owing to his unfortunate circumstances. He felt both himself and his awoken girl beset with a feeling of emptiness.
Mills looked over at her and she let him look for a long moment. “I can’t think about all of this anymore, Julian,” she sighed and his name on her lips felt like a kiss as it floated to him. “I’m hitting the same walls a thousand times… It’s too sad.”
“Let’s not talk about it for a while, then?” he leapt at the suggestion and offered his hand in a deal.
She gave his eagerness a smile and took his hand. When she shook on it and squeezed, it was confident. “Just… be my neighbor,” she asked amicably.
Mills nodded to himself, considering. Still holding her hand, he leaned over the bar and Clyde came close to hear him.
The song that was playing on the jukebox scratched to a halt and after a few beats of silence, a new, familiar melody tinkled its lullaby tune on a glockenspiel. Then a marimba filled out the tinny sounds and a piano joined smoothly.
It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood, the song started and she bent over with a laugh.
A beautiful day for a neighbor, the sweet voice went on and Mills tugged on her hand, inviting her to dance.
Would you be mine? Could you be mine?
She relented and followed him a few steps away from the bar. He placed a hand in a respectful, neighborly spot on her waist, and she did the same, on his shoulder.
It's a neighborly day in this beautywood
A neighborly day for a beauty
Would you be mine? Could you be mine?
They swayed together to the melody that was equally as sad as it was sweet. It fit the mood better than anything he could have planned for in advance.
I have always wanted to have a neighbor, just, like, you, she tap-tap-tapped to the beat into his chest with her index finger and he watched her fondly.
I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you, he mouthed the line, watching from her eyes to her lips, down her neck, and then he hit the brakes, before he got too un-neighborly.
So, let's make the most of this beautiful day,
Since we're together, we might as well say,
Would you be mine? Could you be mine?
Won't you be my neighbor?
Even Clyde tore his eyes away from his little glass as they danced, recognizing the image before him as one of classic, universal romance.
*
@thegrislady @safarigirlsp @lumberjack00fantasies @queeniebee @vedavan @house-of-cadwyn
127 notes · View notes
quicksilverdrabbles · 1 month
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Saturn: *laying face-down on the couch in the Dragonborn Gallery safehouse, oddly quiet*
Taliesin: *staring at her with a raised eyebrow* Someone remind me what exactly she's sulking about.
Kaidan: She went back to the grotto to look for her sword and couldn't find it.
Saturn: *raises her head with a groan* I spent hours looking! I used every waterbreathing potion I had, it wasn't anywhere in that damnable lake!
Taliesin: Just make a new sword?
Saturn: *gasps, clutching her hand over her heart* Such insensitivity from the man who's life I saved. Twice.
Taliesin: Well excuse you, you're the one who dragged me to an underground lake, what did you think was going to happen?
Saturn: I can't just make another sword! Every sword I make is one of a kind, and that sword was the best of the best! The only thing that could possibly top it is a sword made of pure Dwemer Aetherium, and there's no forge in our modern existence hot enough to smelt that ore!
Lucien: Well actually-
Taliesin: You can't just not use another sword after losing your old one.
Lucien: *raising his hand to speak* Er- there might actually be-
Saturn: *not listening* I'm not saying I won't use another sword, I'm just saying it won't be the same! I spent hours enchanting that sword to my standards! It's like telling you just make a new Berwhale!
Lucien: If I could just-
Taliesin: *offended gasp, clutching Berwhale to his chest protectively* ... You've made your point.
Saturn: Thank you. Now come sit down before you irritate your injuries anymore. *stands and ushers him to sit* Even with the potion you still need to rest.
Taliesin: *blinking in surprise at the sudden change of position* ... Can't say I hate being pampered.
Saturn: Of course you don't, now stay. I'm going to get some anti-scarring cream.
Lucien: *sighs, moving to sit next to Inigo with a pout* I give up.
Inigo: You should know better than to interrupt those two when they are bickering, Julian.
19 notes · View notes
northern-typist · 6 months
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father of the bride ~ bbc ghosts ~ part one (of two)
A/N ~ Alright folks, this is just a quick two-parter that I came up with on a long car journey. I’ve taken some liberties with the ‘Rachel Fawcett’ character and melded her into my own version.
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button house, may
Rachel Fawcett was many things - a liberal, environmentally cautious, an acute over thinker and a whiz at pub quizzes.
One thing she was not, however, was a coward. No. Fawcett’s were not cowards, they couldn’t be (and wouldn’t,) the notion weaved into their DNA at conception.
But as she indicated up the long, winding drive, her stomach started to swallow her whole. Rain lashing down onto the windscreen. Wind blowing the car about. Bad omen? Maybe so. Button House was the place her father had passed away. She’d been warned against going by almost everyone she spoke to about the matter. Her friends, her mother - especially her mother. She could hear her condemnations now-
"Why in Christ would you want to host your wedding there?"
But Rachel had been adamant, she wanted her wedding day to be special and this was the place it was going to be (luckily her fiancé agreed and that was that.)
Parking the car by the cracked fountain, she gathered her belongings and exited. Instantly, the door swung open, a beaming and slightly nervous Alison Cooper greeted her. Her eyes briefly darting behind her, but straight back to Rachel.
“Hi.” Rachel greeted quietly, “sorry that I’m late, I couldn’t quite find the place and then-“ she motioned to the house, “you know.” Daniel always told her she was incredibly brave, but she doubted that right then.
Alison just shrugged. “Oh, it’s fine. Glad you still were able to make it.”
“I wouldn’t miss this,” she raced to the front door and entered, Alison making way, “finding a place to host a wedding is difficult enough these days, what with the cost of everything, so we’re incredibly grateful.”
“Is he coming?”
It took Rachel a moment, taking off her damp coat and frowning, but then- “Oh, yes, Dan! He’s travelling down from Edinburgh, got some work thing. He’ll be here though; he's dying to check out the house before the big day.”
“Great.” Alison grinned, taking Rachel’s coat and hanging it up. “Make yourself at home, I’ll get the kettle on and find Mike, he should be around here somewhere.”
Leaving Rachel alone, Alison headed off towards the kitchen, closing the door behind her and bracing herself for the oncoming storm, and OH boy, was that storm turning into a hurricane…
~
Alison stirred the teabag and inhaled, the voices around her all drowning into one. Finally, the spoon was placed down, and she turned, addressing her posse of ghosts.
“Alright, one question at a time please.”
Thomas went first. “Who is that beauty? You must introduce us, Alison.”
“Absolutely not, next”
Then it was Kitty. “She’s very familiar, has she been to one of your parties, or maybe a guest.”
“Hopefully she's not one of your God-awful friends. Highly unacceptable people.” Fanny interjected brashly, she had a point.
Alison gritted her teeth, ignoring the slight on her friends and turned towards the remaining three, “Anything from you?”
“Are we allowed to attend the party?” Pat enquired, excited about the prospect of more lovely music and people in the house.
“Of course, Pat, of course.”
Robin grunted happily - that had also been his question, so that left The Captain. He adjusted his swagger stick and stood straighter. “Anything to report about this one? Anything of interest?”
Alison picked up the cups and nodded firmly. “She’s here to host her wedding, that’s all. But wanted to see the place first. She’s staying for a night or two, just whilst her fiancé joins her. He hasn't seen the house yet. Oh- actually, there’s actually something I wanted to speak to Julian about,” she peered around the excited group but couldn’t see the suspect, “where’s Julian?”
~
Rachel felt oddly at home here… and she couldn’t place why. Every furnishing felt like a memory that she’d secretly repressed. Staring at the crackling fire, Rachel picked at her sleeve, unable to fully relax into the plush settee. Regardless of the warmth of the room, a shiver ran down her spine. A brief glance around the room.
Nothing…
Except for the pant-less ghost wavering a few feet behind the blonde newcomer, not that Rachel could see him. Julian didn’t need an introduction, he knew exactly who this was. His blue eyes stared down. Unable to look away. In all his time with the dead, he’d wondered what she would look like now. Sure, Alison had shown him those pages on the computer, the occasional mention on the Radio. He even remembers hearing a brief mention of her on the 6 o’clock News - she had switched parties during a rather difficult voting period, a Red now, not a Green.
This was his daughter, his Rachel.
“There you are!”
Both father and daughter turned to face the door, Alison standing with a bright smile and two cups of tea. Julian met Alison’s eye curiously as she entered, a silent question - ‘when was you going to tell me?’ Alison tried to brush him off with a smile and seated herself on Rachel’s right.
“Here you go.” Alison said softly, handing Rachel the brew. She then motioned for Julian to join them. It was subtle, but he took the invitation gladly, perching on the coffee table.
“Cheers Alison.” Rachel grinned.
Alison and Rachel spent a moment sipping on their beverages, which gave Alison the opportunity to observe the father-daughter duo. There wasn’t much of a difference. The same bold blue eyes, sandy-blonde hair - with a middle parting, Fawcett’s all had them, she remembered Julian once telling her.
“So, how do you like the house?” Alison queried, hopeful.
Rachel took another long sip and smiled softly. “It’s a beautiful house, you and Mike should be very proud of yourselves. I can’t wait for Dan to see it,” another sip, “but lord knows how long that’ll take, that storm doesn’t look like it’s going to stop.”
“Dan? Who’s Dan?”
“We’re trying with it,” Alison said. “We didn’t think we’d be hosting anymore weddings, to be honest—“
“What’s this about a wedding-“
“I’m bloody glad that you still are.” Rachel breathed, “my mother warned against coming here, said that I would bring shame upon the family, upon my party.” Julian held his breath, his wife was correct, as she always had been, yet Rachel persisted, “but I don’t care about all of that, I know you probably know about my father and how he… Well, the circumstances of his death.”
Alison kept one eye on Julian and on Rachel, then nodded. “I’ve been told. Sorry, by the way, I know that was probably hard for you to learn.”
Instead of sadness there was only hints of humour from Rachel. “Don’t be sorry, us Fawcett’s are a different breed, he may be gone and may have been a colossal idiot-“
“But he was your father.”
“He was my dad.”
And in that moment, the two girls knew they had an unspoken With that, the pair continued to drink their tea, falling into small talk about their lives. Julian opened his mouth but found he couldn’t speak. His throat tight, eyes slightly watering. Instead he exited the room, slowly, slightly forlorn. His thoughts still in the warmth of the room as he meandered through the corridors in search of his ghostly friends.
~
The storm had lessened by eight but there was still no sign of Dan, just a text to say that his train would be delayed, no surprises there. Mike ordered a round of Pizza’s, enjoyed by the humans and envied by the ghosts, then the couple sent a tired Rachel to nap, stating that: “they’d wait for Dan.”
Julian hadn’t said much during dinner, the other ghosts had taken note, but waited until Mike had sauntered upstairs to watch the latest episode of Big Brother (it wasn’t really Alison’s thing.) The remaining residents of Button House sat and stood, waiting for Julian to begin talking.
He sensed the group’s questions, so decided to address them. “She’s my daughter.”
“That’s Rachel?” Pat cried with wide eyes.
“That’s Rachel, my Rachel. It appears that she’s having her wedding here.”
Fanny frowned, crossing her arms. “And she’s aware that you died here, like that.” She motioned to his bottom half. Julian nodded silently causing her to just shake her head.
“That’s a good thing, right?” Thomas chimed in from the settee, “Your daughter must not hold a grudge, she must have some semblance of respect for you, but I’m not sure why.”
“Amen.” Fanny supplied.
Alison glanced around the room, stopping at Julian, tentative. “How do you feel about all of this?”
“It’s… Hard. She’s not a pixel on a screen anymore, she’s here.” Julian adjusted a cuff link and sniffled, he wouldn’t cry in front of them. “But Margot seems to have done well, all things considered.”
The Captain made to add to the conversation when a rapturous knock echoed on the front door downstairs. The group shot up, running straight to the windows. They couldn’t see who was there, the rain now pelting the glass harder. Alison rose from her spot by the chess board and raced down, ghosts in hot pursuit, to the front door. The knocking continued. Unlocking it, she swung the door open and stared out at the stranger.
“It’s Dan, right?” Alison gasped.
The stranger turned and lowered the hood of their coat, nodding and bundling inside quickly, glad to be out of the storm.
Dan shook out the rain from his greying hair and smiled at Alison, who was trying to switch on the nearest lamp, “Hi, yes, I’m Dan.”
He stretched out a polite hand and Alison finally got a chance to see his face, but could only gasp at him - the gasp reverberating amongst the ghosts also. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible.
The Captain grasped his swagger-stick, standing frozen alongside Julian, and felt his heart plummet into his stomach, if such a thing could happen to a dead man.
Dan was the spitting image of The Captain, just a few years younger and no moustache.
Cutting through the small silence was light footsteps on the stairs, quickly descending to the front door. Rachel reached the bottom, ghosts jumping out of her way, as she raced into Dan’s slightly damp arms. As the pair embraced - the group stared and stared.
“Good Lord.” The Captain muttered.
Well, this was certainly a new development.
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consul-valerius · 8 months
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The top two contestants for “worst taste in Vesuvia”
Idhfgfdihg BUT in reality I have been having a lot of Damien-Verse Thots, specifically about Naima and Antony, so I used all my remaining brain cells to finally complete some headshots for them :’) For further context for those that miss my sporadic shouting on my main blog LOL:
Naima (she/they) is (obviously) the accidental but surprisingly welcomed daughter of Nadia and Julian, and she is one of Damien’s top love interests (even if she doesn’t realize this herself lmfao)
She is an extremely serious person to an almost comical extent; her main aspirations in life revolve around eventually becoming countess and pushing the changes her parents have began instituting to even larger heights.
With that though, she is also a very insecure person, particularly when it comes to her ability to make friendships. She feels extremely inadequate in comparison to Julian and Nadia, which can often cloud her judgement and lead to self-isolation (apple -> tree)
She has had a life-long crush on Damien, but particularly when they were children, she got swept up in how others treated him. She feels partially responsible for his disappearance, and so by default she now feels extremely protective of him but has difficulty showing it
On the flip side we have Antony (he/him): a farm-hand on one of Valerius’s family’s vineyards and is top choice number 2 for stealing Damien’s heart lol
Unlike Naima, Antony did not have a close relationship with Damien when they were children. However, he was very much head over heels for him when they first met as children and he never got over it
He is much more confident in himself when compared to Naima, particularly when it comes to his relationships with others. He has a close pack of friends that he wishes Damien would interact with more; they’re all queer, kinky, and share a collective brain cell lmfao
Many assume Antony is a hard person based on his style (renaissance punk boy LMAO), but really he has a heart of gold and cares deeply for the underdog. He is willing to wait as long as he needs to for Damien to fully embrace being in his own skin, and in an ideal world, settling down together :’)
Some more rapid fire thoughts and facts undercut✨
Naima is trans & ace and primarily enjoys kink as a means of letting loose and building more secure dynamics between herself and Damien; despite many suitors trying to woo her, she truly only has eyes for Damien and would rather remain unmarried than marry some earl she has no interest in (this is partially because of Nadia and her flub with Lucio lmfao)
Antony is trans, queer & poly like all my other OCs LMFAO he has the most relationship experience out of all three of them and it shows
Antony would be considered a bard, though he has no formal magic training. He and Donna have a very special relationship because of this; whenever they are together, Donna tries to teach him something new. Donna obviously has a soft spot for Antony and is very torn between wanting him and Damien to just shut up and get together, but they are VERY aware that Damien is just. Not ready for that & Antony deserves the world lmfao
On the flip, Naima and Valerius are quite close, particularly when he steps down as consul. He thinks that she is, in every way, the perfect suitor for Damien for personal and political reasons (LMAO), and oddly enough, Nadia can’t help but agree. particularly when Damien was still “missing,” Naima enjoyed just having silent time sharing a space with Valerius or listen to him and Nadia talk and talk and talk lol
When Damien disappeared, Naima spent a year living with Nasrin and Namar in Prakra for safety reasons—no one was sure if this was a targeted attack, and despite how painful it was, Nadia knew she would be best protected there than in Vesuvia. This was a very fundamental time for Naima, and because of it, she was extremely close to her grandparents (yes, this has given Nadia and even stranger complex lmfao)
IN TERMS OF EACH OTHER, Antony thinks that Naima is literally a princess and should be protected at all costs. She is too good for this world to him lmfao In the rare times where their paths cross, he has an uncanny ability of getting her out of her shell (it’s the autism to autism communication LMFAO) Naima, of course, is both in awe of Antony and feels very insecure around him. He is confounding to her, and she wishes that they were closer, she just isn’t sure how she would even go about it LMAO
In terms of how Damien views them, he is much more open about his feelings with Antony than he is with Naima. Antony was a lot of Damien’s firsts, and he is truly one of the only people who really make Damien feel beautiful and safe. However, he is deeply frightened by this too, especially when it comes to how Valdemar would react to their bond. He’s terrified of getting too close only for them to, well, get in the way in the way that Valdemar does best :x
With Naima, Damien thinks that he is in control of their relationship and his feelings for her but isn’t LOL he also had a childhood crush on her, even when she would join in with the others and bully him. Her cruelty hurt him the most, and in many ways he treats her so poorly to “get back” at her. However, this is pretty self-defeating as he winds up just feeling very guilty and self-loathing about it LMFAO
In summary, they are all a mess and are bursting with love and none of them know what to do with it LMFAO :’)
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sakannaz · 2 years
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃
Why are you here? How did you get here? Are you willingly ready to explore?
Warning(s): Entity’s. Cause they are highly dangerous-
Tagging: @violet-memoria
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October 27th 1981
You hated being at home. Your parents were always fussing and you never got any rest. You were the only child and wished you had some older siblings to talk to but..that wasn’t going to happen.
You walked into the living room to still find your parents fussing, they’ve been going at it for months but would stop for the sake of you. Only father would but your mother didn’t care.
“Well, listen, I’m not gonna fuck up our child’s mind with all this fussing. alright?” You walked upstairs and went into your room closing the door behind you.
It was raining outside and you just got from school, you were getting ready to do homework until you felt sleepy.
You could use some sleep since you weren’t able to sleep last night, you overworked yourself last night of studying so from now on you’ll note not to do that again.
You laid your head on the desk and closed your eyes. You wish you could be away from home, hopefully that wish would come true.
Once you woke up you felt like you were in a cold room but it was..oddly warm. This wasn’t your room, you’ve had to been somewhere else, there was a stinking smell, it came from the floors and you didn’t like it at all.
When you stood up the walls were all mono-yellow. This was like and endlessly maze, the ones you play on the computers in school. That’s what it felt like..
You began walking and heard movement on the other side of the room, you quickly looked for a hiding spot and found one, there was groaning and scratching sounds, it sounded like a human but you could tell it wasn’t human at all.
You covered your mouth so whatever that thing was couldn’t hear you. You closed your eyes and could hear someone walking closer and closer to your hiding spot.
Then you felt a soft tap on your leg and you opened one eye to see a male looking at you, his hair was long enough to reach his shoulders and he waved at you, “Hey, You okay? You saw what I saw, right?” He whispered before grabbing onto your hand softly and pulling you out of your hiding spot.
“On three, we run, alright?” You nodded before looking behind you and seeing a headless monster, it could smell your scent, and eventually it would find you.
“Three, two…” you were getting ready to run, “ONE!“ he yelled, and the both of you started running, the entity saw the both of you and started running after the both of you, the male beside you almost tripped but caught himself, you both no-clipped into another room accidentally, now what room were you in? Or..’Rooms’ if your correct.
You winced in pain, The male beside you looked to check his surroundings, now the two of you were in a room where there was nothing but water.
He turned to you and his eyes widen when he saw you were hurt, “Woah, you okay- well obviously not, let me help you.” You shook your head, trying to ignore the aching pain in your left arm, he sighed, “you could either be having a heart attack or Bursitis.” Everything was quiet cause you didn’t utter a single word and looked at him with confusion, “Trust me I know. I’m studying to become a doctor. Don’t worry I’m not telling you anything wrong.” You smiled, at least someone was able to make you smile.
“I’m Julian by the way.” He had his hand stretched out for you to shake, you shook his hand and smiled up at him, “(Y/N).” You told him.
“Wait- aren’t you the one who’s studying to become a mechanic?” He asked, you nodded, “but I’m not sure if that’s what I wanna do.” You told him, he titled his head with confusion, “You sure? I mean..it seems like a pretty good fit for you. But I can’t say anything because you can choose how you want your life to go. Not me.” He was right though, you did want to be a mechanic but..you weren’t really aiming for that.
“Anyways. Do you know where we are?” Julian asked before touching the water, “No, I don’t, you?” He shook his head, and sighed, “me either.” He said while rubbing his face in tiredness. Guess he hasn’t gotten any sleep either.
“But I recall a old myth if you accidentally no-clip that means your in the backrooms, and now I’m guessing we’re in the..pool rooms?” You said, Julian turned to you, “We’re in a bunch of rooms? Oh how my day couldn’t be worse.” But you would like to explore this place a bit more before going back home, “No..I-I wanna explore this place a bit more. Even though there’s a bunch of entities roaming around..we’ll be quiet. But I want to see why this place makes me so calm..” Julian nodded, “Sure, alright.” And the both of you began to walk, you’ll admit it was long but you wanted to see what this place held.
Part 2 maybe??
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top 5 silly guys ever??
5. Beck
4. Hesitant alien era g way
3. Steve from bigtop burger (oddly enough not why I'm called steve)
2. David Byrne
Julian runway-houses-city-clouds !!!!
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ailendolin · 2 years
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⌘: being picked up. Capvers please:)
Hi anon! Here is your ficlet at last! I hope you enjoy it 💙
Next up:
≣ - hand holding: Thomas & Alison
Speechless: [Character] can’t talk because of a sore throat - Thomas
Error 404: [character] refuses to admit they’re sick - Ho-Tan
First Kiss - Robin/Julian
oh no: [character] gets sick at the worst possible moment. - Bill Shakespeare
The Captain comforting Kitty
The Paynes & Archibald going to Ennythingos
Ask Games are here & here. Filled prompts are here & here on AO3.
________
Close
⌘: being picked up
“Havers, this really is not necessary. I can walk perfectly fine on my own.”
Havers gave him an unimpressed look no lieutenant should bestow upon his captain. “Doc would beg to differ, sir.”
“Doc has a habit of overreacting,” the Captain muttered.
“No, he doesn’t,” Havers said and readjusted his hold on his arm to keep him from swaying. “Either you’ll let me help you get back to the house or we’re waiting for the doc to come back with a stretcher. It’s your choice, sir.”
The Captain blinked at him. “I will not allow myself to be carried back like I’m – like I’m wounded, Havers. Good lord, it’s just a sprained ankle.”
One that sent searing pain up his leg whenever he dared to put any weight on it but Havers didn’t need to know that. His lieutenant’s motherhenning was irritating enough as it was, even if the Captain had to admit that some part of him felt rather pleased by it. It was good to know his second-in-command cared about his well-being – good for the troops, of course. And morale.
The Captain cleared his throat. Better not to dwell on it. Havers was still looking at him with an expression that clearly said he wasn’t going to listen to reason anytime soon so the Captain sighed and, with no other option left, grudgingly surrendered himself to his fate. “Fine. You may help me back to the house.”
Havers smiled – not in triumph but in relief – and reached out to wrap his arm around his shoulders before the Captain even had a chance to mentally prepare himself for the touch. Within the blink of an eye, they were suddenly quite close – closer than they’d ever been before. Heat seeped through their uniforms where their sides were pressed together, and if the Captain angled his head just a little to his left, he knew he’d probably be able to count the faint freckles scattered over Havers’s cheeks and nose like stars in the night sky.
A lump formed in his throat.
“Are you all right, sir?” Havers asked.
“Yes, yes, quite so,” the Captain hurried to say. “Let’s go.”
Even with Havers’s help, the walk back to the house was not only longer than he had anticipated but also a lot more painful than he’d initially thought. He still waved Doc Caswell away when he came jogging up to them with a stretcher, though, seeing as they were almost at the house anyway; he was confident he would manage that last leg of the journey with Havers’s help as well.
He only realised it was a rather poor decision on his part when they tried to climb the staircase – and failed.
“Sir,” Havers said at last. “I don’t think this will work.”
The Captain held onto the railing to catch his breath. Loath as he was to admit it, Havers was right. He’d never make it up the stairs like this. “Looks like I’ll need the stretcher after all.”
“Not necessarily,” Havers said, his voice oddly quiet now. “It’s only one more flight of stairs, sir. I could carry you.”
The Captain’s heart missed a beat. It was a blessing that Havers was too busy staring intently at his shoes to notice the colour rising to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “There’s really no need for that, lieutenant.”
Havers’s eyes flicked up at that, and the Captain was relieved to find a faint blush dusting his cheeks as well.
“It wouldn’t be a hardship, sir,” he said softly. Then, after a beat, he asked, “May I?”
All the Captain could do was nod. He allowed Havers to slide his arm under his knees and the other around his back and then Havers literally swept him off his feet. Carefully held against a heart that seemed to beat just as wildly as his own did, Havers carried him up the stairs as if he weighed nothing more than a child, and it was only after he’d gently lowered him onto the bed that the Captain found his voice again. “I say – thank you, Havers.”
Havers’s answering smile was as beautiful as it was bashful. “Any time, sir.”
He left with a salute. The Captain stared after him, his heart filled with more longing than it ever had been before.
“Good lord,” he whispered to himself and closed his eyes in quiet despair.
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thecraftymagician · 2 years
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Omg you don’t have to do this but I literally just thought: what would everyone’s best man/woman speeches be if MC and one of the LI’s got married? Like at Julian and MC’s wedding, I just know Asra and Portia would roast Julian for breaking up with MC after one day lol. Or like if Muriel and MC got married, Asra would be sobbing happy tears. And if MC married Nadia, Lucio would crash the wedding
Okay.. Let's try this again lol Tumblr Gods please bless me this day!
I decided to just stick to roughly two for each character to make it simpler however I can go into more specific combinations if you'd like. Like in my opinion Asra would obviously toast at everyone for MC but it'd probably be a bit repetitive so I only really used them for Muriel because obviously haha In the first draft I did write the full speeches but here I'm just going to bullet point assuming that's okay because it'll basically be the same thing just different format so i'm not sure why I explained that but oh well!
Warnings: Brush your teeth after reading, I'm not responsible for any cavities or running mascara as result of reading this sugary sweetness! FLUFF!!!, some route *spoilers*!
M6 Person of Honor Speeches:
Asra💜
Muriel: A while into the reception and after a few toasts Muriel gets up the courage to finally give his toast; He figures if Inanna could do that great as a ring-bearer he can at least say a few words. His parchment crumples a bit in his grip but his green eyes focus on the scratched points he'd made. While his voice doesn't carry too far, all of the guests seem to remain absolutely still as to hear him. Flushed, he talks about meeting Asra for the first time, how inspired he was by him and how proud he was to be his friend. He spoke of how much Asra deserved to be cared for and was glad that you were there for him, even smiling as he called you a good match. When he spoke of you he didn't want to bring up how loosing you broke Asra even though it was in the back of everyone's minds. Instead he promised himself to protect you both and how he sees you as a good friend or even sibling as he does Asra, gently welcoming you into their tiny found family. Of course that's the take away as Muriel isn't the best with emotional words and seemed to stutter through those parts. He almost forgot that he wasn't alone talking one on one with you both when he finishes as the party cheers, scaring him off a bit. Asra is almost inconsolable as they cry happy tears. Later when they find Muriel you can almost hear his bones crack from Asra's serpent squeeze hug.
Asra gave the first toast to you, your shared love, and the friends along the way full on Edward Cullen style.
Faust too gives a speech that is essentially the scene from SpongeBob where Gary reads poetry but both of you are teary-eyed like Sandy while the rest of the congregation stares politely yet confused. "She has such a way with words..!"
Nadia💖
Lucio: Actually was invited oddly enough but had to be baby sat by Portia as the condition. He was actually okay during the ceremony even though it wasn't as flashy as he'd hoped but at the reception he insisted on giving the first toast. Nadia allowed it on account of good behavior and mused that if all else it would surely be entertaining. Naturally Lucio started off with a few observations such as shouldn't he have given away Nadia? Obviously it would've made sense but he couldn't deny that it was a nice event without him. He at least could've officiated but no matter he was here now! He went on to talk about special days in life as he had extensive knowledge of such festivities and events but none so special as witnessing true love such as you two. He apologized to Nadia for their failure but was moreso happy for her to have found someone who can make her truly happy. He wishes to do the same some day, making a point to comment on his own availability before ending with a "Cheers!" It certainly could've been more awkward but Nadia is glad it was tasteful.
Portia: After being by her side for a while she had gotten to know Nadia like the back of her hand. She starts of admiring Nadia's character, how strong and steadfast she is. How she always thinks things through and will do what is right. She then compares what she knows of you, your own courage and compassion and how you each are more than capable of caring for the other. While she's only witnessed love and read of it in fairytales she comments how seeing you two pale anything in comparison. Watching you two together is to witness a true and equal partnership that she herself strives for. All in all she's so happy for two of her favorite people to be united and of course our little hopeless romantic sheds a tear causing each of you to follow suit.
Julian🖤
Portia: Portia is the one to kick things off as she has plenty to say. The cat face is on full display so you know this is gonna be good. She starts off by recounting meeting you and how thoughtful, funny, kind, and overall great you were. She just knew you'd be great friends especially after keeping her secrets and helping her brother. That was until said idiot brother blew it by breaking it off instead of trusting anyone once again and deciding things for them. To her surprise and utter happiness you didn't take that lying down and even insisted on getting her help to set things right. She was so proud of you for standing up to him and admittedly enjoyed seeing Ilyushka get a stern talking to from you. That was a hell of a way to start off your whirlwind from her point of view but she couldn't be further over the moon for you two. To believe ANYONE could help turn him around was almost unthinkable but she secretly placed her bets on you. Getting to see the two of you together and happy as well as getting the best sibling in law ever? That's just the cherry on top!
Mazelinka: There's always the embarrassing parent speech right? Well, Mazelinka decides it's up to herself to deliver with a loving roast of poor Julian. She recaps on how she found him and Pasha after the storm and taking him to her own lover to be raised. Growing up he was awkward as could be but with a heart of pure gold. While he got into much more trouble than most, he never stole that she knew of.. until finding you with him in her home late at night. She knew just by looking at you two that he'd stolen your heart or at least that you'd taken his. That slippery boy needs someone who is firm enough to set him straight when he needs it but loving and patient too, and boy after everything he put you through were you patient. Somehow you are just what the doctor ordered and have whipped him into shape as the man they all knew he could be with just enough confidence and love. For that she is grateful and proud of you. She's more than happy to welcome you to the family.
Muriel💚
Asra: The whole day has left your dear friend teary-eyed and on the verge of letting the dams break. He is just thrilled about you too. When he gives his speech they are trying so hard to stay composed but they can't help but gush. Asra talks about growing up with Muriel, finding their home together in the woods, all the trials and tribulations life unfortunately brought them but how it made them grow stronger together. They recount meeting you and how before everything you were the only other person Muriel could really trust. Asra knew it was difficult loosing that and how hard it was to not have you around as well but somehow you found away. Somehow the two of you ended up reforming that bond and after everything you went through came out together even stronger than before. Even before Muriel had never quite come out of his shell like this and been able to truly be himself yet you found a way to help him do just that. You have a special kind of magic to you stronger than anything he knows. Seeing you together is so unique and special, like the southern lights in the sky. Different than a sunny day or the first snow but nonetheless beautiful. While they could obviously continue they worry about talking everyone's ears off. He leaves with how insanely happy he is to see his favorite people ever together. Muriel squeezes your hand, unable to fight his beaming grin for tears for that matter as be blushes fiercely.
Portia🧡
Julian: He starts off by talking about how he respects that Portia is a grown women, he cannot pass up talking about how adorable she was growing up. Hair too big for her body, never one to give up in a fight, full of equal parts spitfire and courage as well as kindness and cunning. She always did so much for others and while capable needs someone to love and cherish her the same as she does for others. Luckily enough she found you. He recounted her favorite stories of adventures and fairytales that he'd read her growing up and couldn't deny your similar qualities to her favorite heroes. You'd lived up to and even far surpassed his expectations for his sister's significant other. He's happy she'd found her match in guts and love. That is to say you must swap stories about your adventures till the end of time now! He's just really happy for his sister and new sibling in law.
Mazelinka: While not nearly as embarrassing as Julian she'd still recount Pasha growing up just the same, how much she wanted to be a big kid and go off on her own adventures like her brother. Who'd have thought one of her biggest journeys included finding you? Of course that's just what she always wanted but it's rare in life that wishes be granted. That is to say she found herself a magician none the less so all bets are off. She thanks your for keeping her safe but not smothering her either, that's just what Pasha's always needed and it's been wonderful to watch her thrive.
Lucio❤️
Nadia: Lucio cannot help but sweat and worry when Nadia decides to speak. Luckily, she's as sweet and gentle as ever when choosing to make a few well placed jabs at her ex-husband. She starts off speaking about Lucio, pausing at times to collect herself. In other words she basically talks about how he can be.. hard to get along with at times, is one to make his fair share of mistakes, has been known for not being the most noble man despite his title, etc. With all that said she couldn't help her surprise at all of those rougher parts of his character being chipped away after meeting you. You were headstrong enough to not give into his whims and admired how he seemed to want to be better for you. You inspired him to change, evolve for the better though that's not surprising. Nadia herself admires your character and all you've done for her, Vesuvia, and Lucio. You're good for him, that's plain as day and he seems to make you exceptionally happy as well. She remarks that much of what happened was unexpected, the two of you getting together was a happy surprise.
Lucio: Like Asra, he would feel the need to declare his love once again and of course thank everyone for coming in a bolder way. He'd go on to basically reaffirm what Nadia had said but in his own point of view, being very open and vulnerable with his feelings for the first time in front of everyone.
(I don't think Asra would speak at this one. I think he'd try leave after congratulating you both but Julian would convince him to at least dance together once before heading out.)
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Can you do a mini HC of the m6 reacting to an MC who gets grumpy when they are hungry, I don't mean violent or rude, like they are just not in the mood to talk at all or do anything other than eating when they are hungry.
The Arcana Mini-HCs: M6 when MC gets hangry
Julian: will get so anxious from the silence that he can and will repeat the apple cart fiasco and hand the nearest food vendor his entire wallet if it means you get some sustenance in you sooner
Asra: has learned how to track down the nearest edible item with magic for this sole purpose. also finds your grumpy face oddly endearing, and will forget to get food with you until it's nearly too late
Nadia: hates how disgruntled you get and will become borderline snappish if her request for you to be fed goes ignored/unfulfilled for too long. you are her person. you are to be properly fed at all times
Muriel: doesn't mind you being quiet but hates that it's because you're hungry. starts quietly watching your eating habits to make sure that you're eating enough at regular, healthy intervals
Portia: nobody is allowed to go hungry around her, ever. she's keeping at least three different nutritious snacks in her pockets at all times solely for situations like this. hates seeing you sad and quiet
Lucio: might get mildly triggered, if only because your sudden detachment reminds him a bit too much of his mother. will spring into action as soon as this happens and do whatever it takes to help
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bakuliwrites · 2 years
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Intimate, Part 6- Lucio x GN!Reader
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Rating: 18+ (minors DNI)
Fandom: The Arcana
Relationships: Lucio x Gender-Neutral Reader
Summary: Not much sleep to be had with Lucio.
Author’s Notes: Hey all! This is a six part series, one story for each of the M6. Just a selection of sensual moments with the M6. I have the entire fic up on my AO3, but I figured I’d post it here, too :). Here, you can find Julian, Asra, Nadia, Muriel, and Portia. Lucio is the last one in the series! I hope you enjoy :D
Lucio’s breathing is deep and even, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. His arm is slung across your chest, holding you in a vice grip, practically clinging to you. It’s early yet, a pale sliver of dawn creeping through the curtains, it’s muted light sleepy and blue. Your mind is still groggy with wispy dreams that seem to lose their shape as the moments pass, but you’re awake enough to know that this moment is precious. The hours that you and Lucio can slumber, undisturbed, wrapped in each other’s embrace, are hours you hold close to your heart. 
Your eyes try to make out the various blobby shapes that scatter the room. A chaise lounge looks oddly formless with Lucio’s furs and cape cast over the back of it. His gilded arm rests on its stand on the dresser, magnificent still in these first moments of daybreak. You turn your head just enough to catch the tiniest glimpse of Lucio’s face. Even from this awkward view, you can see his sharp angles soften in the early morning haze. His brows, normally furrowed, are relaxed, the crinkle in his forehead nowhere to be seen. His lips, often set in a scowl or devilish grin, are parted slightly. Your form fits perfectly against his. This is bliss- pure and unadulterated. 
In these early hours, when he’s deep in his dreams, you are allowed to glimpse a moment of Lucio’s quietude. When he’s not putting on a show for everyone. His intensity and blusteriness settle in the silence of the dawn, though you can feel his bright aura envelop you in its protective light. It fizzles and bursts like hushed fireworks. That’s not to say that he becomes a different person in his sleep. Lucio is no more or less himself in his tranquil slumber. He is simply a lambent flame, waiting to burn brighter as the day brightens with him. 
Your hand finds its way to Lucio’s, intertwining your fingers with his, settling in to snuggle ever closer. He sighs contentedly, the soft release of air through his nose whispering through the strands of your hair, tickling your shoulder. In his sleep, he draws you nearer, burying his head in your neck. You can feel the pull of exhaustion tempting you back into slumber, eyes starting to flutter closed once again. As gently as possible, you begin to shift, nestling yourself deeper under the covers and closer to Lucio. As your body attempts to puzzle-piece itself into Lucio’s big spoon, you feel something gently prod the back of your thigh. 
Oh, you blush, freezing in your motions. Cautiously, you lift up the edge of the sheets, just enough to get a quick peek of the goings-on underneath. Yup, it’s exactly as you thought. Lucio is not a morning person, by any means; but, on the rare occasions that he is up early, he’s certainly friskier than usual. 
His breathing suddenly shifts to the shallower and more rapid breaths you’ve come to understand as him waking up. Your movements are no doubt what woke him. 
“Hmm,” he hums, stretching his limbs and making a half-hearted attempt to perk up. 
“I’m sorry I woke you,” you whisper, softly pressing your lips to the tip of one of his fingers. 
“Hmm- whatimeiszit?” he mumbles, voice gruff with weariness. 
“Not yet dawn, my love,” you return, rolling over to face him. He keeps his eyelids firmly shut, not yet ready to greet the coming day. His brows are furrowed once again and nose crinkled with displeasure. Morning really is not Lucio’s time of day. You feather kisses along his jawline, a silent apology for disturbing his slumber. 
“You’re just trying to get me all riled up,” he teases, a roguish smile spreading across his face. He doesn’t seem so tired anymore as he ensnares your lips with his, pressing deeply into you. His hand snakes around your waist, thrusting you close. You can feel his arousal graze your inner thigh and you let out a small, surprised gasp.
“You were riled up already!” you retort when he gives you a moment to breathe, chuckling into him as he once again captures your lips. 
“What can I say? Even in my sleep, my body just seems to want you,” he teases, finally opening his eyes. Through the strands of blonde that limply hang in front of them, you can see the mischievous glimmer in his silver irises. 
“I thought you weren’t a morning person,” you breathe as Lucio’s lips find their way to your neck. A rumbling laugh reverberates through his chest as he suckles lazily at the tender flesh just above your collarbone. 
“I’m not, but you could convince me otherwise,” he returns, voice muffled against you, “Here, I have an idea.” 
Gently, he turns you so your back is to him once again, flush with his chest. Meanwhile, his hand slips into your sleep-shorts, his elegant fingers toying with you. You can hardly help the pleasured moan that escapes your mouth as Lucio fondles and strokes. His motions are slow and purposeful, teasing and delightful. Your entire body awakens with his touch, burning rosy and warm.
“I’m not quite myself yet. Not ready to rock your world this early,” he begins, quite proud of himself, “But maybe- you could keep me warm for a bit? Let me doze a little longer?”
You turn your head just enough for him to hungrily capture your lips again. Despite his supposed exhaustion, Lucio was awfully brash for the early hour. And you can’t resist his bold, impassioned need for you.
“It would be my pleasure,” you manage to say through your constricted vocal cords, Lucio’s motions underneath your clothing so utterly distracting. With this consent, Lucio removes his touch, a whimper falling from your lips as he does. Swiftly, he pushes aside your shorts and casts aside his. As he aligns his erection with your entrance, you hear him inhale sharply, a gruff chuckle trapped in his throat. 
“Ready, my dove?” he drawls, dragging his tongue lightly along the shell of your ear.
“Ready,” you confirm. Lucio sheathes himself within you, slowly at first to allow you time to adjust to his girth. You gasp as his tip hits deep. Normally, you would receive some kind of relief when Lucio inevitably pulls back a bit, but you aren’t given such a reprieve this morning. Instead, Lucio remains still, unmoving. The pressure of his erection filling you is simultaneously wondrous and overwhelming. This is a whole new kind of pleasure, Lucio’s hardened cock buried within you, pressed unyieldingly against your most sensitive spot. You release a slow breath, the constant sensation of his dick sending pleasured waves through your whole body dazzling and torturous. 
“Don’t wriggle too much,” he mumbles, laying his head back down on the pillow and preparing himself to doze a bit longer, “I don’t wanna miss out on the fun.” 
And with this, Lucio falls silent, his breathing deepening with each passing moment, leaving you to try to stay as still as possible. As if you really could. You can tell Lucio isn’t totally asleep. His nails gently graze your hip bone and, every once in a while, he thrusts up into you, snickering to himself when you groan with tortured pleasure. 
“You’re terrible, Lucio,” you mock whine at him, when he pretends he’s going to withdraw, only to grind back up into you. He lets out a sleepy hum, as if saying, I try. You can feel your legs quaking with each passing moment, your desire for Lucio to just finally fuck you growing and growing. But Lucio is all about the game, the teasing and the building up of desire. Even in his light snooze, he wants to tease you. He’s warm inside you and you feel full, whole, complete. A part of you wants to stay unioned like this, bodies merged entirely, the closest you could ever physically get to another person. 
And yet, at the same time, you can hardly handle this proximity. Fire builds in your core, threatening to burst, but with no way to release. You want to wiggle around, to grind your hips into his, to listen to his husky grunts of arousal, to feel his essence drip down your legs as he releases into you. But no such luck. You’re to lay here, feeling Lucio’s erection sheathed inside you, warming you, warming him. Your hand slides down in an attempt to pleasure yourself, to feel some kind of completion since you’ve been forbidden from moving. But you’re halted by Lucio’s grasp, fingers closing around your wrists.
“Ah, ah,” he tuts, thrusting up into you once again, sending you reeling, “Not yet, my dove.” 
“I thought you were sleeping,” you manage to retort with a huff. 
“I’m having a hard time. Too many other things on my mind,” he returns, voice husky and low. Golden sunlight starts to make its way under the curtains, between the seams. Finally, the day has brightened enough to match Lucio’s aura. He lets you steep in desire and lust for a few minutes longer, no doubt relishing your tiny moans and attempts to adjust to feel some kind of relief. Finally, Lucio kisses your shoulder, a signal that he’s no doubt up for “rocking your world,” as he put it earlier. 
“I’m ready if you are,” he offers, nibbling at the tender flesh of your ear lobe, “You ought to be rewarded for keeping me warm. For staying so still while I dozed a little more.” 
“Please,” you whimper, body begging for release, “I’m ready.” 
“You got it, baby,” he growls. And with this, Lucio pulls out just enough to slam savagely back into you. The impact is everything you want, mind foggy with pleasure and vision dizzy with stars as Lucio thrusts in and out. Each time the tip of his dick hits the perfect spot, you let out a moan that’s sure to wake everyone else in the palace. You can’t help it. 
“You did such a good job, my dove,” Lucio compliments through labored breaths, the sheer force of his passion making him almost breathless. His hips snap into yours and with each motion, he brings you closer and closer to the edge. The flame in you builds like the dawn beyond your windows, fiery and bright. You can feel it crackle, burst and bloom in your core as Lucio’s teeth graze your neck and his cock glides in and out. 
“Lucio, I’m so close,” you manage to say. His fingers find their way to one of your nipples, gently circling in an attempt to help you along. With a final, grand thrust, you feel the fire in you burst like a supernova, Lucio’s name falling from your lips in a lilting cry. He follows not far behind, your name echoing through his bed chambers. As he releases, you feel his warmth flood you with each final, arrhythmic pump. The room seems to spin as you float down from your high, body still sensitive from Lucio’s fervent proclamation of his love for you. As you attempt to catch your breath, Lucio peppers kisses up and down your neck, still unioned with you. Moments ago, you were desperate for him to move within you. But now, you’re desperate for him to stay sheathed inside, keeping you warm, keeping him warm. 
You gasp when Lucio does finally withdraw, leaving you feeling almost empty. You can feel him dripping down your thighs and onto the mattress, but hardly notice. He’s back to pressing kiss after kiss to your soft lips, tongue tracing your teeth. His elegant fingers caress your flushed cheeks as he whispers words of praise and adoration. Lucio is loving. He is the warmth of the summer sun, of spring melting winter's chill. His love for you is proclaimed loudly in his words, yet is ever-present in his actions, lingering in each gentle touch, each kiss. 
“Feeling more awake?” you question with a smile, gently bumping the tip of his nose with yours.
“Perfect way to start the morning,” he winks before swallowing up your laughter and giving you a look that says he’ll be ready for round two soon enough. 
“Let’s just stay in bed for the rest of the day. Besides, what else is there to do this early in the morning?” he suggests with a coy smile. You roll your eyes before listing a number of responsibilities the two of you could tackle now that you’re both awake. But he pooh-pooh’s them all with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“No fun, at all,” he goes on, beaming wickedly, “I can think of a number of things more exciting than that. And none of which involve leaving this room.” 
It doesn’t take much convincing from him to tempt you into remaining in his loving embrace for the entire rest of the day. The promise of a day of debauchery with the Count is something you can hardly resist.
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The Arcana Characters In: Minecraft!
Asra
Prefers creative, but joins a survival minecraft world with his frends time to time
Has a MASSIVE farm decorated in all kinds of flowers in every game he plays
Mostly keeps to himself tbh, building a quick house to live in as he explores the infinite world
Yes, he has found the Farlands and will teleport whoever wants to see it there. Oddly, his computer doesn't even lag when he's there...
Has 12 horses, 37 cats, 50 dogs, 108 foxes-
Gives Y/N cocoa beans and exotic items when he comes back (given he isn't lost)
Julian
Can you stop griefing Portia for 5 minutes dear God-
Starts fights with very dangerous mobs and dies 16 times before leaving them alone (if at all)
He keeps parrots and dogs, but can't tame cats (see Portia for the reason)
Survival player all the way, even if he kinda sucks at surviving
If he plays creative, he sends hostile mobs to the "gallows" to "punish them for their crimes" (or sometimes steals animals from his friends and sends them to the lead on a fence)
Will he greif Y/N? Never. In fact, he defends them from every mob as they mine in the caves! How sweet <3
Portia
Poor girl can't build her little cottage in peace without Julian pouring lava buckets all over.
It's not as if she's helpless, she knows just how to get him back with her expansive knowledge of the game.
She could honestly slay the Ender Dragon at speedrunner levels of skill if she was motivated enough, but she lets everyone else have their fun.
Now, this girl doesn't really tame wolves... But she'll have an ARMY of cats in her wake. No one has time to tame cats unless they're away from her, and Julian only leads her to cats to make up for how many of her buildings he's destroyed.
If one of her cats is sent to Julian's "gallows" or if it's been slain, she goes on a rampage of either killing Julian until he rage quits or unleashes her anger upon every mob imagineable.
She grinds for diamonds just to give to Nadia and Y/N (mostly for Y/N, what a sweetheart).
Nadia
Mostly a creative player with a server who helps her recreate a palace, but will play survival if she's invited.
Indulges in diamonds and rare items in game, but she grinds HARD for those things!
Despite not knowing much about mobs, she can pull off a LOT of redstone creations to everyone's surprise (excluding Portia, who's lending a hand).
Also owns parrots and even axolotls, but she'll sometimes trap hostile mobs that look pretty and keep them. I mean, she would have a whole Enderman room if she played survival for more than a week.
If Julian griefs anyone in front of her... He'll be joining the Enderman room. She has server owner permissions after all. Only lets him go if Y/N or Portia requests it.
Speaking of Y/N, she'll share her diamonds and riches with them. Everything they ask for? She'll provide happily! Hell, if she has to trap The Warden for them? Nadia will have it done before you could say "Minecraft".
Muriel
Keeps to himself with one wolf in a hut he built himself, usually not joining the others unless Asra begs him.
Babies his said wolf to make sure it doesn't die. Every fight is fought by Muriel, with his dog sitting on the sidelines.
He doesn't like creative as much, but he will play on peaceful over normal survival. Muriel would never kill animals needlessly, even in the game 🥺
Asra will join his world from time to time, usually to make him feel less alone if Y/N isn't online (he'll deny that he needs company).
If Julian or Portia get near his hut or his dog, he'll flee with his dog in tow just to avoid either one of them stirring up trouble. Especially Julian, who he will make sure will NOT take his dog.
No matter how Y/N plays Minecraft, he joins them happily and leaves his own little world for as long as they're online. If you play normal survival, he gathers a bunch of bread/apples/crops to prevent himself from killing the animals in the game (fish being the exception).
Lucio
(Note: I've never read his route, so this is mostly based on what I've seen from the other routes)
He's permabanned from the server. Everyone will refuse to play with him.
Probably kills peaceful animals and runs from the boss fights, but stops if Y/N asks.
Collects gold upon gold and ONLY wears gold armor to reflect his "true" self (he doesn't know diamond is stronger)
Tbh I don't have much of an idea of him, so I'll leave this up to the reader.
BONUS: Faust!
Poor bby can't play, she only has snake tail 😔
If she could, she would probably stick to Asra closely and follow his play style
LOVES to play with Y/N, and will probably follow them to the ends of the Minecraft earth 🥺
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