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angelsndragons · 3 years

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fjord’s feelings for caduceus changed in episodes 98-99

by which i mean, fjord finally realized how special and important he is to caduceus, which in turn set the tone of their relationship for the rest of the campaign. buckle up, this is a long one.

not when fjord threw away his sword and went to caduceus instead of jester. or when caduceus presented him with the star razor. or after the citadel fight when caduceus gave him his holy symbol. i think things changed for fjord in episode 98-99, when caduceus saved his life and removed the orb.

this is going to require some context.

because here’s the thing: fjord’s always looking for the price, waiting for the catch or other shoe to drop. people caring for him because of him with no strings attached is unprecedented. vandren and the world taught fjord that love is conditional, that only if you hide what others would find ugly and make yourself useful to them will they deign to give you a scrap of affection. i don’t think vandren did this maliciously, mind you, it was just part of his worldview and fjord’s life up to and beyond that point supported it. we can see that right up to the end of the show, where fjord is terrified that vandren didn’t remember him or that he didn’t mean nearly as much to the man as vandren did to him.

so we have fjord, who learned to don masks and hide his truest self, including his best and worst aspects. while fjord made the nein into a coherent group, into a force, a crew, a family, even, he still waited for that other shoe to drop. waited for the day that they would reject him because he was no longer useful or because he pushed them too far. you can see this waiting all over the early campaign; he’s not looking for an excuse like caleb to cut and run but he anticipates nearly all the moments that almost fractured the nein, in spite of that low wisdom score. while jester carried the guilt of not being able to save molly, fjord carried the guilt of not protecting the group in that crucial moment. travis confirmed on talks that fjord’s biggest fear when he lost his powers the first time was that he would no longer be useful and be kicked out of the group.

that’s why fjord damn near broke down at the end of 72. the nein, no questions asked, with their standard level of snark, accepted that he was going to be a liability and kept him around anyway. armed him anyway. declared that he was no liability and that they would help him along until he could help himself and them again. this unconditional acceptance caught fjord completely off guard. it always does, really. because caduceus had said for months, an out of game half a year, that he was looking to reforge the sword as a gift for fjord. he said this to fjord’s face. he did not change course when he learned that the sword was a legendary blade forged by acolytes of the wildmother and moonweaver. the blade was still meant for fjord, even if fjord was still chained to uk’otoa. fjord extends his love and protection to the nein but is still not convinced the reverse is true. he was starting to believe it but he wasn’t quite there yet.

caduceus has a high enough wisdom to understand that’s fjord’s hang up even if he doesn’t quite understand the reasoning behind it. that’s why he pulls fjord aside in ep 75 and tells him that he doesn’t have to choose the wildmother, that there are other gods and other ideas out there looking for a champion. fjord, who at this point considers wildmom his only option (travis says she’s the only one who’s shown the slightest interest in fjord and that’s why he’s gunning for her), is befuddled by caduceus and this whole talk, so much so the pair end up talking past each other for the next several episodes.

after fjord officially becomes a paladin, things between him and caduceus become fairly...unsettled compared to their previous interactions. they talk past each other more, they aren’t in sync enough to double team those social interactions they were just starting to get good at. things are just weird for a while. to me, that’s fjord waiting for the catch, waiting for caduceus to call in some favor or something like it. and he keeps getting confused when caduceus doesn’t. so he tries once or twice to follow in caduceus’ footsteps and do as he would instead. and it just makes things weirder. these two don’t have a moment together that doesn’t leave one of them confused or unsatisfied until ep 87, when caduceus gives fjord the holy symbol and inadvertently kicks off the next phase of their relationship. because here, caduceus tries to put them back on equal footing and fjord recognizes it. caduceus rejects framing their relationship as mentor/student and tells fjord he doesn’t need caduceus to give him answers. fjord is “well on his way.”

by defining what they aren’t, mentor/student, our two boys inadvertently ask the question, “so what are we?” honestly, it’s a question that the entire group grapples with in the 90s as they reintegrate yasha, as veth struggles with the question of changing back and whether she can stay with the nein, as beau tries to sacrifice herself for veth, as jester learns some uncomfortable truths about the traveler, as caduceus finds his family again. fjord and caduceus can easily define what they aren’t - not mentor/student, not brothers or cousins- but what they actually are stumps both of them.

their relationship doesn't look like any of their relationships with the others: beau is fjord's bro and first mate, caleb is fjord's complicated mirror and admiree, jester his crush and first person he learned to be vulnerable with, veth his antagonistic sibling. on caduceus' side, caleb is the one he looks to for a fellow project nerd and clear, unvarnished goals, beau and jester are the sisters caduceus misses, yasha the quiet beloved barbarian he understands better than the rest, and veth a mess he wants to help but can't. but fjord and caduceus' relationship is highly undefined at this point. notably undefined, beyond their newly shared connection to melora. at the dinner with essek, we get the stone bomb. and travis and fjord panic. like no, seriously, they spend the next four episodes low key panicking over this revelation. this ties back to fjord waiting for those other shoes to drop but it’s also more than that.

when it comes to destiny, fjord has always been the answer, the self made man, to both caduceus and caleb’s questions about destiny. he makes choices about who he is, who he wants to be, and takes actions towards those goals. he is one of those rare people who can wear many different masks, take on many different roles, while still maintaining his sense of self and becoming a fuller version of who he is. when I say fjord is the answer to destiny, what i mean is that he is what ioun said way back in c1 about Fate: mortals make choices and through those choices, destiny is fulfilled. he is the answer to caduceus' own growth from passive instrument waiting for someone to play him to active communicator in this conversation between gods and mortals. in this sense, fjord is what caduceus learns to be (this is exactly why caduceus rejects a mentor role; he has as much to learn from fjord as vice versa).

so for this coincidence to pop up, this idea that maybe fjord only had the illusion of choice to extend his service to the wildmother, that maybe somehow he was manipulated again, that there was some grand destiny pushing things and fjord had no say in it, yeah, i can see why fjord was low-key terrified. so is this what fjord and caduceus are: just some predestined grand fairy tale partnership neither of them have that much say in? episode 96 resoundingly rejects that label too. for one thing, none of the stones or clays treat fjord's last name as anything amazing or spectacular. for another, this string of episodes gives us caduceus at his most human. the terror of not knowing what happened to his family, the uncertainty of his homecoming, the relief of saving his family and home, the irritation at the way the chaos crew treats the temple, the playful attitude caduceus cultivates after, it's all on display. caduceus drops much of his placid exterior and willingly allows the nein to see sheer depth of emotion he has.

which leads me back to episode 98-99. uk’otoa’s agents come for fjord. and caduceus is pissed. travis and ashley both said on talks that they hadn’t really seen taliesin that pissed, that it was like someone had threatened an actual loved one of his. fjord dies. and comes back to an exhausted, still pissed off firbolg who is five seconds away from snapping archmage vess derogna’s head off for interrupting his prayer of healing. taliesin doesn’t even begin to relax until they start interrogating the dead fish people the next day. once caduceus confirms the ball is still in fjord, notably caduceus and caleb were the two who remembered, fjord starts asking for a way to remove it. he asks caduceus to start a commune with wildmom in tandem with jester’s commune with the traveler. caleb tells fjord that caduceus fought “very hard for you while you were down, i don’t know if he’s up to it.” having heard that, caduceus still tries, with his first divine intervention attempt of the campaign. and when jester figures out that greater restoration will work, caduceus pushes through his exhaustion, takes charge, and goes through a truly terrifying greater restoration with fjord to remove the ball. convulsing, seizing, shuddering, collapsing, etc.

in those moments, and in the quiet after when fjord confirms that he still has his powers, it finally hits him that yes, people can protect, fight, and love him for who he is alone. there is no chain or other shoe waiting to be dropped here. the wildmother is no uk’otoa, to punish or take power at a whim. caduceus will fight with everything he has and then some for fjord because he loves him (not for nothing does fjord only realizes the depths of jester’s feelings when she uses heal on him). who are caduceus and fjord to each other? they are people who will fight for one another and the others as far as they can. fjord says over and over again that he wants to protect the nein and look out for them because he cares for them. he demonstrates it over and over again as well. caduceus says basically the same thing; he wants everyone safe and happily on their way and will stay until they are. he demonstrates this all the time as well. this is, i think, the first time that he demonstrates his dedication so unequivocally, free of the artifice of duty, fully committed through love. fjord recognizes this in caduceus and caduceus does in fjord.

i say this is a turning point because, while they don’t really have another super in depth conversation alone together, these two start clocking each other and openly help and look out for each other. there’s an ease and intimacy to the relationship after this. fjord watching caduceus swim near vokodo’s lair, fjord being ready to hand over his armor to caduceus when it looks like his won’t be ready, fjord, caduceus, and beau plotting behind jester’s back to keep her safe from the traveler, the absolute offense fjord takes to eadwulf after he spoke to caduceus like that, fjord levels up in paladin after caduceus tells him he’s proud to know him, all the way to the end of the show when fjord shelters the clerics and tells them to finish lucien, we get little moments like these from both of them. hell, caduceus is the first person in the campaign to tell fjord directly that he loves him.

#cr #critical role #cr meta #fjorclay #wildbros #fjord #caduceus clay #prim did theirs so i'm doing mine #in b4 the wrap-up #just barely #and ran out of steam at the end #i'll expand on that later #gotta finish my vm v m9 meta #and the cockroach party analysis

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goldenkamuyhunting · 3 years

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Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 288 “A Pleasant Man”

So from a Watsonain perspective I’ve to praise Wilk as it turned out everything went...

yeah, just as he planned it... though Doylistically speaking let me be amazed by how Noda made this wonderful and intricate plot... but let’s start with order.

The story starts with a very useful timeline concerning the events that involved the gold.

There are little things I appreciate more than timelines so I’m extremely grateful to Noda for it.

We move back to the Russian consulate in 1902.

Irenka, one of the Ainu working with Wilk, correctly guesses the government which rules Hokkaido wouldn’t just give them the land, should they show up with the land deed.

Wilk suggests to ask Enomoto Takeaki for help at which the others correctly imply it would be a little hard for them to meet him.

As if this wasn’t difficult enough, Kimuspu informs them the Japanese government is AFTER THE LAND DEED and would steal it before they were to reach Enomoto, which is why they were forced to hide it there.

But then he suggests a Nispa might be able to help to get in touch with Enomoto.

We go back to 1869 and to a much younger Kimuspu, one that looks more like Cikapasi due to how the signs on his face are now more marked.

He explains they used to go to Goryokaku as they negotiated with Enomoto over buying the land, without even knowing the battle of Hakodate would escalate.

Early at the beginning of the story (chap 30) Hijikata lamented how their battle was hampered by the struggle to get funds...

...which seems to hint whatever agreement Enomoto managed to reach with the Ainu, was reached too late.

Anyway, while the others go take part to the negotiation Kimuspu is left behind to take care to give water to the horses and, as he does so he meets Hijikata… who basically behaves like a Sugimoto with a slightly different face...

Hijikata is curious of Kimuspu’s tattoo, he’ll help Kimuspu, is cheerful and modest, admitting all he’s good with are battles, horses and women. Okay, Sugimoto is popular with women but can’t understand them at all while Hijikata was supposedly better at this but whatever, Hijikata really feels like him to me… though I doubt they plan to have them be related.

Anyway Kimuspu doesn’t let him know why they’re there but clearly likes him and finds him a ‘Sawayakana otoko’ (爽やかな男 “pleasant/refreshing/invigorating/clear man”). Later he finds out he’s Hijikata, an Ezo republic commander.

Enomoto keeps the land deed as a secret. I wonder if, should he had won the war, he too would have tried getting it back.

Anyway the Ainu prepare the gold, though they don’t really trust Enomoto.

They’re being too slow though.

The government forces begin their all-out attack.

We’re at June 20 (lunar calendar May 11), 1869, and Hijikata, instead than being killed as history wants, is just nearly killed near the Ippongi Kanmon but manages to drag himself back despite the wounds...

...and is helped by Kimuspu, despite his comrades being against it. In order to give them a reason to care about Hijikata, Kimuspu reminds them he’s Enomoto’s comrades but it’s clear he’s not helping him just for that.

Kimuspu should have been a nice person, it fits he’s Cikapasi’s grandfather.

Anyway he brings Hijikata in one of the house left empty when its owners evacuated, so as not to let Hijikata be found by soldiers.

When Hijikata awakes, he’s reached by the news the Kaitenmaru was also destroyed by fire (always on June 20) and thinks they should protect the fortress Benten Daiba as Goryokaku will surely fall due to the bombing of the ships, but Kimuspu tells him the day before, (June 24th) while he was unconscious, the fortress surrendered. This means we’re at the 25th. Goryokaku will surrender the 27th.

At this Hijikata likely understands they’ve no more hope to fight and asks Kimuspu to bring him to mount Hakodate, apparently to a statue of Kannon. Hijikata, dressed up as an Ainu to disguise himself, doesn’t manage to explain why he wanted to go there as the bombing on Goryokaku resumes and then they’re found by soldiers, who recognize Hijikata.

Kimuspu, gets in between them and Hijikata. He explains his action saying he was desperate because he figured the Ainu would lose the land of the republic of Ezo. Although he manages to push the rifle away from Hijikata, the soldier fires anyway and kills one of the Ain that were with Kimuspu.

At this Hijikata tells him to stop or they all would be killed and let the guards take him away. Kimuspu who had been pushed on the ground, stares at the dead Ainu in shock but he’s evidently released later on as it’s only Hijikata who’s carried away, apologizing to them and promising he won’t forget the debt he owns to them.

Kimuspu explains how, out of guilt for letting the soldiers take Hijikata, he couldn’t tell Enomoto how the latter survived. However, when he tries to find information on Hijikata’s fate no one wants to say he was caught or executed and, several years later he begins hearing rumors about Hijikata having been looked in a prison, an ex-warden even confirming this. So Kimuspu is sure Hijikata is alive.

Ratci adds in he also hears rumors about Hijikata being alive and helping to build the convict road.

Anyway they work up in their mind that Hijikata could get their message to Enomoto. How since he’s a prisoner those survival they’re basically hiding? Well, Oskeporo suggests they could pretend to be wardens and break him out. It’s worth to mention by then Hijikata was already in Abashiri so making him escape isn’t as easy as they make it out… but, on the other side, I do wonder if this was all part of Wilk’s plan. I mean, he and the other Ainu were hiding near to where there were those ‘prison lodges’ in which Inudou kept laborers confined… and, when the other Ainu die Wilk rushes there and have himself being arrested, asking to give Inudou the message he killed 7 Ainu and knows the location to the Ainu hidden gold.

I mean, at a first glance it seemed he did it merely to escape from Tsurumi… but maybe his goal was reaching Abashiri and getting into contact with Hijikata in the first place so as to use the whole incident with the Ainut o carry on his plan.

We see him repeating Hijikata’s name with a thoughtful expression after all…

...and then Kimuspu claims he knows a good spot to hide the gold, the good spot being the well. As they place the gold inside the well, one of them guarding the group in the distance, Kimuspu explains the last time they met Enomoto he saw the well being covered with dirt, so the Meiji government might not have noticed it existed. As a result the Ainu hid the gold there and starts planning an uprising among the Ainu.

So yes, they wanted to fight with weapons the Japanese government, not just use the land deed to have the land pacifically.

Wilk also thinks if Hijikata hadn’t forgotten his debt, he should repay the Ainu of the future. Honestly I think he should repay only Kimuspu… as Kimuspu’s Ainu friends back then helped him solely because he was Enomoto’s friend and they were making business with him but whatever, we know how Wilk is, for him the Ainu’s cause is the only one that matter… though from how he speaks he seems to link ‘Ainu of the future’ to Asirpa, whose name means woman of the future. So he basically is saying Hijikata should help his daughter.

The flashback ends here and the visual is pretty good because it moves from Wilk looking down in the well to Asirpa looking up from the well, as if to give the illusion she and Wilk could see each other… but the one looking down in the well this time is Hijikata, who likely means to repay his debt anyway.

And so that’s the story of how Hijikata and Wilk connected the whole horse kanji with a well whose existence only the two of them knew.

I’ll be honest, on one side I’m not overly fond of all this background exposition as it’s just that, exposition with little personal drama (I mean, Kimuspu was clearly grief stricken when the soldiers try to arrest Hijikata and, in effort to stop them, he inadvertently cause one of his friends to get killed… but this isn’t really explored… at most it’s exploited by Wilk) but, on the other side, I’m amazed by how Noda came up with such an intricate plot.

I mean, the meeting between Nopperabou and Hijikata seemed casual, they were merely two prisoners in the same prison… and Wilk trusting Hijikata to take care of Asirpa and carrying on all that plan seemed a risky bet based on circumstances but now it turns out Hijikata was ALWAYS part of the plan and the code was made keeping not only Asirpa but he too into consideration because Wilk clearly assumed Asirpa wouldn’t accomplish anything with the land deed without Hijikata’s support and the hideout of the gold is basically a jab at Hijikata’s moral sense so as to remind him Ainu (well, ONE Ainu) helped him so he should help them as well.

So while a side of me is ‘well, I don’t really care about this little sidestory per se as it’s just exposition and not emotionally engaging…’ the other side is ‘oh my this man actually planned all those plot details so damn carefully I’m amazed! I love him! This is just great writing!’

Oh well, I hope everyone else is enjoying how the story is revealing itself as much as I’m doing because, really, I’m having lot of fun! I love to see such a well thought plot! This is such a masterful work!

Anyway, see you all to the next chapter!

#Golden Kamuy #Sugimoto Saichi #Asirpa #Shiraishi Yoshitake #Hijikata Toshizou #Kimuspu #Wilk #Ratci #Oskeporo #Enomoto Takeaki #Siromakur #Irenka #Mesira #Sukuta #Kikuta Toujirou #Tsurumi Tokushirou #Koito Otonoshin #Golden Kamuy Ramblings and Theories

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sizeshiftingdeath · 3 years

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Ends and Starts (MCYT G/T Exchange!)

Hello there sizeshiftingdeath! I received your prompts for the gift exchange, and while I tried to start pretty close to your prompt, my ideas kind of spiraled out of control, I hope you don't mind ^^' I can make something else with another prompt if it doesn't fit what you were hoping for, though! There's also a little bit of extra information down the bottom with some stuff I thought of about the au I accidentally made.

Prompt given: ‘A human caught in the rain finds a giant in the forest’

The world is pockmarked with evidence of the tragedies of the past. Of warped land that paints the horrors that befell things that came before. The living reminders of them continue to live on in perpetuity, as immortal creatures that were wreathed in the horrors that life on Earth had endured in the past.

Bask in their horrible might.

There is the Death from Burning and Fire and Falling from the Sky and Cold Choking Death, the End of the Cretaceous. A massive beast, the bloody end of an era of enormous fauna. A destruction made all the more powerful by how quickly it was achieved. It stalks the land and sea and, where it steps, the plants die of lack of sunlight and the ground turns to tar.

There is the Death from Ever Hunting and Chasing and Too Warm Too Bright - Tech, the man-shaped leviathan, death in the shape of something familiar to mankind, the Killer of the Pleistocene. The death of great megafauna in an icy world from the encroaching warmth of a new era, the sharp point of a spear. It hunts the world with spears and arrows of fire and, in the depths of its nest, all water has turned to vapor and the earth itself has become a wasteland.

There is the Death of Falling Frozen Seas, of a primordial sea strangled to death under a glacier lock, Her Lady of the primaeval oceans, the Death of the Ordovician. The tail-end of an explosion of life, stretched too far by their own hubris. And yet, despite being a beast with a hundred trilobite and eurypterid faces, one that has a herald in the form of a human by Her side, for reasons that have yet to become known. Maybe, just like every other esoteric thing that such beasts may do, it shall remain a mystery forever.

Look and see. A new immortal is emerging from its eggshell of tragedy. The unstoppable bomb and burning oilfield. The death through hubris and a slow choking unraveling of your very being. The death of man from crackling radiation and tainted iridescent-film water and ash filled smoke. The destruction of the Anthropocene.

Except. This is a creature who was born prematurely. Because man is not dead nor feeling its own final throes. It was not born wreathed in the screams of the damned, only the fears held in the hearts of the still-living. It is naïve and curious and did not yet have the star of a hundred million species’ souls to power it yet. It was stunted.

And that is why the first human the newest apocalypse met was so important.

…

The forests are deep and dark. Quiet yet shivering with life. Constantly moving and yet trapped in some space between time. Most of all, they expected nothing more from you than for your own two legs to be able to travel. Ranboo liked that.

It certainly was nicer than what he had to deal with outside of the forest at least. Here he could continue walking and listening and breathing for as long as he still could move forward. This forest in particular was a favorite, with a constant twilight quality to it that played into its timelessness.

He stumbled over a log, slipping slightly on the slick moss, and focused as strongly as he could on his surroundings. It was hard when he could so quickly slip into his thoughts. He needed to enjoy his surroundings. He needed to stay in the present and not phase out like fog.

Ironically, it was his attempts to ground himself that prevented him from noticing what was slowly growing more wrong in the forest around him. The scent of ash in the air. The lack of birdsong or rustle of leaves. The trees, growing darker and more burnt-looking, and the dead logs that were bristling with fungi.

But when he stepped out into a clearing with an enormous rock embedded into the middle of it, Ranboo really couldn’t help but realize all of the discrepancies. The illusion of an eternal twilight had been broken with the red light that streamed down. The ground was distressingly clear of ground cover, instead dusted with ash.

Forest fire? He hadn’t heard of any in the area but… What else would it be?

Ranboo looked up at the sun, which had meandered towards the west since he had entered the forest. There were dark clouds gathering above him in worrying amounts, and the air was a little hard to see through with the particles suspended in it. He frowned at it.

Something was wrong here, he could sense it in a deeply animalistic kind of way. As if there was something screaming in his hindbrain to run.

He didn’t run. This was the forest that he has walked a hundred times before, when did this happen? Why had this happened? He needed to find out.

Overhead, thunder rumbled. A droplet of curiously dark water fell on his face.

Ranboo stepped towards the other side of the forest clearing that should not have been there.

And that's when a living embodiment of a mass extinction came shambling out of the ashen trees.

Ranboo didn’t know which detail he noticed first about this rogue apocalypse beast. Was it the limp brown hair that was almost black with iridescent oil slick? Was it the enormous horns that curled jutting from its face and looked more like scrap metal than keratin? Was it the uranium-glass green stripes that criss-crossed like cracks in ceramic along it’s skin?

Or was it the fact that this one was shaped like a man?

The apocalypse beasts always most resembled the myriad that had died in their creation. The death of the Ice Age looks vaguely like a man, if squinted at, mostly because so many cousins to humanity had died in its formation. It was more like an enormous boar-beast on two legs that had the arms of a man, if anything. This one did not look remotely like the death of the Ice Age.

Ranboo took a flying leap from horror and realization to hysteria. This is the death of humans. The death by nuclear bombs and smoke and oil. The fabled next apocalypse beast, the bringer of the end of the world, was already here.

For a moment of absolute blinding terror he wondered if this meant that all other humans on Earth were dead now. That today was the day the entirety of humanity died, leaving just him wandering the forest endlessly. That nuclear armageddon occurred and he was out there worried about keeping himself grounded enough to admire the birds.

The beast - and he was never in doubt that this was an apocalypse beast, even if he had never seen any of the others in person before something shook like a leaf in his soul simply from being near it - loomed over him. It watched him like a bug under a glass with nuclear hazard yellow-and-black eyes, and the spell of frozen muscles snapped in Ranboo. He bolted towards the boulder in the middle of the clearing and pushed his way into a space between it and a smaller boulder at its base, scrambling to find a smaller crack to squeeze himself into to just get himself out of reach of the beast, of the black water, of everything.

He could hear a rasping, clicking-crackling sound. (A Geiger Counter.) He could see glowing green-striped fingers reach under the edges of the rock he had wedged himself under. Could see, in the sickly chartreuse light they cast, fingernails larger than his head catch the rock. Felt the weight of the boulder lift from his back.

Ranboo was left crouching and shaking, so scared he couldn't breathe (or maybe it was the ash or the slimy water that couldn’t be rain), as the apocalypse beast crouched down further. It crackled and clicked with a mouth that seemed all too human to be able to make those noises, and then it. Crooned? With a voice that was more like a siren shriek turned down, weirdly echoey as if speaking from far away, it clicked and whined and Ranboo was so confused he didn’t even see the hand reach down and pick him up by the back of his shirt.

He screamed and flailed, imagination jumping into overdrive about what horrifying things the beast could do, and just as quickly, he was dropped with a whoomph to the ground and the death of Mankind jerked back. Ranboo gasped and sputtered as half of face got thoroughly soaked with ash-water mud, and hoisted himself up again to get away from the apocalypse beast.

Who was crouching over him, luminous trefoil eyes barely a foot away from his own, still crooning that awful siren tone. From this close Ranboo could faintly see radiation burns pockmarking its skin, and a horrible scar of curled and ridged skin along its face, as if it was victim to a close-range bomb explosion.

It tilted its head, leaning a tiny bit closer, and Ranboo threw his arms up to cover his face. God, it itched where the ash water had splashed on him. Why was it itching so much?

The death of Mankind stopped again, looking up into the sky and then down at Ranboo again. It seemed to come to a conclusion, because it then slowly - oh so slowly, why was it being careful? - cupped its hands out in front of it and held them out to him.

It… Wanted him to climb on. Into the grasp of a literal specter of death specifically designed with the destruction of his own species in mind.

Ranboo, in a moment of blind panic and stupidity, climbed on. It looked polite, he reasoned. He was already going to die just from being close to this thing.

It continued to… yes, it definitely was cooing now, in that horrifying voice, and for a moment Ranboo wondered if maybe he misinterpreted. Maybe this thing wasn’t meant to represent the nuclear apocalypse.

His eye had started to itch where the water touched it. He rocked himself in the grasp of this giant, feeling footholds in the craggy radiation-worn skin, and felt the side of his face.

The moment e touched it, a white-hot flash of horrible burning pain hit him like a truck, knocking him into a stupor of yelling. It was as if his face was burning, was twisting and gnarling just as much as the apocalypse beast’s horns did. Under his hand, stiff with pain and unable to move away, he could feel skin slough off, could feel the cells themselves die off in droves, in response to whatever radiation or toxin was in the ash-water.

He couldn’t even register the sensation of fingers larger than his torso curling around him and holding him steady, of him being pressed up against a vast chest that beat unsteadily like a stuck clock, of the vast thumps of footfalls against a diseased forest floor.

All he could feel is pain, burning coiling tunneling pain that tried to tear out his face, his hands, his neck, burning him bright and radiant like a star.

…

The creature was screaming in its hands. It hadn’t stopped screaming for a long time.

It was small and writhing and melting. Creatures usually didn’t like melting.

The death of Humanity wasn’t sure how to make it stop. It had dashed out of the black-rain (that seemed to make the melting worse, maybe it’ll stop once it’s out of the rain?) to its home cave, hoping that perhaps it could figure something out in the comfort of its own home.

The creature’s screams had died down, though whether it was from its pain being alleviated or their voice giving out, the death of Humanity couldn’t tell. All it could tell was that it wasn’t getting up, wasn’t looking at it with those wide curious scared-but-interested eyes.

Most animals ran from the death of Humanity. Land-creatures would yell in fear and flee, birds would rise up into the sky in huge swarms only to be struck down by the black-rain. Even insects would twitch and die when they got near, which led so many to flee this part of the forest entirely. It was a lonely existence. But this human hadn’t run like the other animals had. It had hid, yes, but it had viewed the death of Humanity in all of its glory and it almost, almost, was ok with it being picked up.

And then something had happened and now the human was dying just like all of the other animals and the Nuclear Apocalypse didn’t know what to do.

Be well. Be alright. Be just like you were before, it thought, delicately laying the twitching human on the ground out of reach of the dripping black-water puddles, in a nest of dried grasses and leaves that had swept into the cave over the years. It prodded the human with a finger, whining softly when all it did was spasm like a dying insect. It wasn’t dying, right? It was just hurt? It couldn’t be hurt, the death of Humanity wouldn’t allow it. Not when it was so curious and didn’t flee like the others. Not when the death of Humanity had a chance to learn from it. Even now, writhing in its palm, it could feel the frantic beating of life and warmth, things it had so rarely seen before.

You will be well. You must be well. I will make you well.

...

When he came to, it was to complete darkness.

Well, no. Not totally. There was a faint glimmer of far away light somewhere to his left. A shuffling shadow, a faint sickly green glow.

His right was totally dark though, and he couldn’t quite open his eye. He almost brought his hand up to touch it before violently flinching as he remembered what had landed him here in the first place. Would it start burning and melting horribly like it did before? That he was even awake to wonder that is a miracle in of itself... Or the start of the second round of his torture.

Horrible curiosity pushed him to touch, as lightly as possible, the skin on his right cheek. It… He couldn’t feel it. Or rather, he could feel the sandpaper surface of extremely rough skin, but he couldn't feel the pressure, the burning bright pain. The entire area was dead to the touch.

Ranboo threw himself as upright as he could make himself, which ended up only being a half kneel before falling back over into a sit. His breath hitched and he felt his face more firmly, the rough scratchy surface of skin that splattered like paint over the right side of his face, over his eye, down his neck and onto his arm. The muted tingling where it met smoother skin along his shoulder and the bridge of his nose. In an act of desperation he even poked at his eyelid, trying to pry it open to see if he could ever see from that eye again.

His hand passed in front of his working eye in that moment, and at this point his focus had sharpened enough to make out vague colors in the dim light. His hand… It was a black far darker than any human could naturally produce, with a grey-green cast that made him look sickly.

I feel sickly, he reasoned to himself. What is going on? He waved his hand a little frantically, as if the new midnight shade was something that was just stuck to his skin. Desperately he held up his other (totally numb to the touch) hand, hoping it hadn’t changed too.

Well, good news - it wasn’t midnight black.

Bad news - it was a shade so pale that it looked totally devoid of blood. And the raspy surface he could feel didn’t look any prettier to the eye. It didn’t have that same grey-green tint to it though, which was nice, because it would’ve shown up really well on this pure white canvas.

Why was he even thinking about looks right now? He was in the den of an Apocalypse Beast Ranboo get your head together! This was absolutely not the right time to space out - he needed to stay in the moment!

His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he tried to get himself upright. He had only just gotten himself steady when he felt the rattle of large footsteps shake through the ground. Before Ranboo could even think to run though, the shadows out of the corner of his eyes resolved into the beast, which made its way all too quickly towards him.

He couldn’t run if he wanted to. And besides, the damage done to him would probably kill him. He was on borrowed time as is. What did he have left to do but to see what the beast did?

It slowed as it came closer, reaching out a vast clawed hand towards him. Despite his resignation towards his fate, Ranboo flinched back as it came way too close way too fast. A movement that the beast obviously didn't notice or interpret or care about, because he was scooped up into its palm without a moment's hesitation.

“No!” He yelled, wriggling and pushing away from the cage of fingers around him. The beast paused in bringing him up to its face, and if Ranboo was being generous he could call the look on its face a frown.

In less than a blink the face of the beast was so close way too close and he almost punched it (for all the help that would do) out of reflex. It blinked at him with those lucent yellow-black eyes, laser sharp in their focus upon him. He felt for all the world like an ant being peered at through a magnifying glass. Maybe he’ll be fried like one too.

“What do you want with me?” He asked, voice cracking in fear. “What is it you want?”

It didn’t answer in that siren tone again, but instead shifted its weight to the side and turned its palms so that Ranboo was standing squarely in one of them. The other was drawn up and one sharp-clawed finger was pointed at Ranboo. Or, well. The side of Ranboo’s face that he couldn’t see from just yet.

He trembled with the anticipation of the jagged nail at the end of the beast’s outstretched finger spearing forward. But all it did was touch, very gently, under the damaged eye. The beast frowned even more.

Then it jabbed at him, hard enough to bruise but not much else, directly into Ranboo’s damaged eye. He yelped and jumped away, tumbling off his feet in the cup of the beast’s fingers and slapped a numb hand over numb face. Even if he couldn’t feel the area, it still surprised him enough to believe for a moment he could sense it again. Except… was that still his imagination? The eye under his pale skin was starting to itch and water, the first sensation he felt from it since he had woken up, and with a gasp he was able to open his eye.

Fuzz. That’s all he could see from that eye. The beast leaned forward and poked at his face again, softer this time, and when he opened his eye again the world had snapped into focus, tinged with red around the edges. He blinked a few times, and felt a trail of something wet leak from that eye onto his cheek.

What had happened? “You… You healed me?” He asked up at it. It was still frowning even as he had two working eyes again, and muttered softly in a voice that sounded like something crumbling into splinters. Then it poked him for a third time, this time on the shoulder, and Ranboo held back a yell of pain as the area lit up in a blaze of sensation that felt like liquid fire. As he watched, the black skin around the edges of the wound cracked and veins of bright green glowed beneath.

Just… Like… The beast…

Oh no.

The pain of his nerves coming back to life was nothing when compared to the cold horror that had bubbled into his stomach. There was a single case of a human managing to gain immortality as a result of an apocalypse beast. One of the first beasts, Her Lady of the Primordial Sea, the beast of the Ordivician extinction, had taken pity upon an ancient human who was trapped in the glacial ices that herald her path across the Earth, and had gifted it with immortality and a pair of wings that made him as beastly as the Lady he served.

Nobody knew exactly why the Angel of the Deaths had been spared, and why not a single human had ever had that happen before or since. All that was really known about him was his violence, and that he had an uncanny ability to be where an apocalypse beast would be travelling to next. He was just as inhuman and alien as the beasts themselves, if in a smaller form.

It had only ever happened once. Until now, obviously.

Ranboo stared at his white hand, prickling with waking nerves under the surface and twisting with green strands that trailed under his skin like angry snakes, and knew that he was a monster now. Somehow, it was freeing. Like he finally got an answer to a question he had asked over and over. Why him, why now, why is he still alive, why is he not afraid enough…

He stared back up at the apocalypse beast and it blinked down at him. It was no longer frowning, only looking thoughtfully now. “You’re not going to hurt me.” It wasn’t a question.

It reached a hand back up, maybe to poke him again, but this time rubbed his hair very lightly. He did not flinch this time, steeling up his willpower to allow this touch (It won’t hurt him. He needs to keep repeating it until it is true. It won’t hurt him. He was its now it wouldn’t hurt him).

It made that soft crooning noise again, like it had before lifting the rock he had been hiding under, and despite it being underlaid with sounds specifically designed to inspire fear in humans, he could find himself getting used to it. (Would have to. He’s an abomination now after all. The second angel.)

“You’re not so bad, are you…” He slowly pushed himself to his feet, flexing his newly sensated hand carefully. “I still don’t know what you are or why you are here now but…”

The beast tipped its head curiously and warbled exactly the same words back at Ranboo. He froze, because it was so much like his own voice except under deep layers of static, before shaking his head. Best get introductions out of the way - this creature was obviously smart. It was the death of Humanity after all.

He pointed to his chest. “Ranboo.” He gave it a few pokes for emphasis, and the beast poked him too before mimicking his name. He wasn’t entirely sure it actually got what that meant but, well. Baby steps.

Then he pointed at it. It blinked a few times (and Ranboo really couldn’t help but anthropomorphize its reactions - this thing was just too uncannily human to not) and chirped out another ‘Ranboo.’ He gestured more firmly, pointing at the beast.

It continued to look with (probably) bafflement for a few moments, before letting loose a cacophony of sounds that sent Ranboo’s hands slapping over his ears. It was all of the sounds of falling trees, of squawking birds, of the blazing sun and frigid cold and most of all the explosive fire and cold falling ash-water and death from sickness. It was everything and more that wrapped up the death of Humanity in a nutshell.

Ranboo blinked. That might take a while to learn how to pronounce.

He decided to call it Tubbo for short.

<End> There we have it! I hope that you enjoyed this - I hope it didn't betray too much how much stuff like this interests me and that this was potentially also 3000 words of me nerding out about mass extinctions.

Anyways, here's some details I had added but had no way of explaining naturally within the story that i was a little proud of ^^'

The Anthropocene apocalypse beast is also called the unstoppable bomb and burning oilfield. Shortened to TUBBO. Ha.

There’s 7, now 8 apocalypse beasts (Great Oxidation Event, Ordovician, Devonian, Permian, Triassic, Cretaceous, Pleistocene, and now Anthropocene). I originally intended there to just be 5 (for the big five mass extinctions) and then a 6th Anthropocene apocalypse beast, but then I thought I really should add in the great oxidation event that almost caused extinction of all non-oxygen breathing creatures on a very early earth, and the death of most megafauna in the Pleistocene era.

Society is way different with these living eldritch abominations just shambling across the globe, causing a trail of destruction behind them. A lot less large cities, for one.

The Ordovician apocalypse beast is Kristin, yes. She’s uplifted Phil into something similar to what Ranboo is now. I kinda want to think more about her and her story with Phil.

The Pleistocene apocalypse beast is Techno. Idk why I chose to do that but it seemed to fit. Especially since the leading theory on Pleistocene megafauna death is humans hunting them, which I think fits Techno pretty well

The rain is black rain - rain full of radioactive fallout. Bad Stuff, definitely not what you should seek out if you want to keep your body in working order.

I kept referring to sirens in Tubbo’s speech. Just imagine every emergency warning broadcast sound except even more terrifying

So Ranboo’s skin is majorly fucked up. For one, he’s suffered major radiation damage to the side that is now white (healed over brand new skin). The black half is much more interesting though. Did you know there are types of fungi that can feed off of nuclear radiation? They protect themselves from the effects by secreting a LOAD of melanin, making them extremely dark. Anything that wasn’t newly healed on Ranboo had now become akin to those fungi now. Feeding rather than harmed by the nuclear radiation Tubbo naturally puts off. Perfect for a newborn Angel of the deaths.

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Thank you so much for this story submission!! I really love this idea and how well you wrote it! this is so amazing! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

#submission #mcyt g/t exchange event #mcyt #g/t

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birdbrain90 · 3 years

Text

Lost and Found - a Sylki Story

On a lighter note than recent ones, this one's for @sheherlocked I'M SORRY IT'S GARBAGE THO LOL I WROTE IT IN 2-ish HOURS. Sylvie had long since lost the ability to be surprised. Sleeping with one eye open for as long as she had, constantly needing to look over her shoulder, to be prepared to run at a moment's notice, it was all standard practice for Sylvie.

And then there was Loki…

The fool demigod managed to shake her to the core with something so simple as a tilt of his beautiful face, a shimmer of magic across his body.

She had been following him for weeks, not wanting him to find her. No, that was the lie she told herself. The real reason was the fact that she was terrified to reach for him. Every time she would get close, desperate to touch him, something in her brain would not let her. However, she did not want to lose track of him, so she followed, like a tigress stalking her prey.

She had been steeling her nerves the past few days, finally finding it ridiculous that this had gone on for so long. She was going to go talk to him. She had to. It was the only way to find out why he had spent so long searching for her. She had watched him interrogate, search, interrogate some more in order to find her. He had described her as a “beautiful blonde woman in black and green.” having no more to go on than that, because common people wouldn’t understand much else about their crazy journey they’d been on.

She had felt bad, watching him fall to his knees and weep, far away from the world where no one else could see him, or so he thought. She wanted to reach out and hold him, to tell him he would never be alone again, but why should she? He was supposed to be by her side until the end, to stand with her when her life’s mission was complete. And yet, when the time came, he chose rational thought and logic instead. Why was she even following him? Why, when He Who Remained lay dead at her feet, was he the only face in her mind? Somehow, hearing his cries, watching his shoulders heave as he let his fist collide with a nearby tree trunk, she found it hard to be upset about all the rest.

Eventually, she managed to lose track of him. She had drifted off to sleep unexpectedly, and he was gone when she woke up. What followed was a search that took her days. Days of tracking his footprints and asking around for a beautiful man with black hair in an old, collared shirt that desperately needed tailoring. She eventually found him again, sitting on a rock by a river, someone else next to him.

A woman with long blonde hair and dressed all in blue, sat near him. She looked older, with much wisdom on her face as she ran her hand along Loki’s back.

“My darling, do not lose hope.” The woman muttered. “You will find her. I know this because I’ve never known you to give up when you want something. I was there the night you ate all those freshly baked biscuits. Do you remember?”

His mother. Sylvie had never met Frigga, and she barely remembered her own mother. She crouched behind the nearby foliage, listening to Frigga’s words and looking every inch like the lost child she truly was. She watched Loki lean against the woman, who put her arms around him and held him tight as he began crying again. Sylvie could already tell when Loki was crying without even seeing his face, his stuffy nose a dead giveaway.

“Mother, I’m so tired of being alone.”

“You’re never truly alone. Surely you know that. I am always with you, sweet boy.”

Loki’s cries intensified as a clarifying thought tore through Sylvie’s mind, almost knocking her over. Loki’s mother was long since…. “Loki... what are you doing…?” Sylvie stepped out into the clearing, scaring at least three centuries out of the God of Mischief as he frantically waved the illusion of his mother away, stumbling in the process and falling straight into the river.

Oh. Oh shit.

Sylvie didn’t even realize what she had done. She had no plan for this. She had let her heart get in the way and now she had revealed herself. She had no choice but to move forward now.

“S-...Sylvie?!” Loki exclaimed, his voice cracked from crying and landing in cold water. He hauled himself out of the river, stumbling toward her as she walked up to meet him. “Surely I’ve gone mad. It can’t be.” He reached out a hand as if to touch her arm, but retracted it immediately.

“Hi. Sorry. About that I mean.” She gestured to his soaked clothing. He shook his head, and a green shimmer ran the length of his body, drying him instantly.

“Sylvie. I’ve been… I mean, I thought I’d... You okay?”

“I should be asking you!” She was suddenly irritated by the fact that he continued to put her first. “Your mum is dead, Loki, yet I saw her sitting by you. What’s that about?”

Loki didn’t have words for quite some time. Sylvie watched his face flush, and his eyes water. However, no tears fell this time.

“She was always the one to comfort me when I was upset. No one else has tried since.” Loki spat his words out with more bitterness than he intended. Sylvie did not deserve to bear the resentment he’d carried for centuries.

And it damn well broke her heart…

All of a sudden, she rushed for him, throwing her arms around his waist and squeezing as tight as she could. She couldn’t find words. There were none to be had in this moment. All that mattered was how warm and firm his body was under her arms, and how equally firm his arms were when they came to rest on her shoulders. It took him a moment to wrap them around her, but she felt him melt against her when they did. Somehow, they didn’t need words. In this moment, the chaos of two hearts racing against one another was enough.

Loki sunk to his knees, taking her with him, holding her like she was going to fade away. Like she herself was an illusion he had unknowingly conjured to comfort his aching soul. She felt real though, as she clung to him, so he had to believe she was.

“I’ve been searching for you.” He finally spoke, his voice small and fragile.

“I know. I’ve been following you.” He snapped his head up at that, searching her face and smirking. Of course she was two steps ahead of him. She always had been. “I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I didn’t know what to say.”

Sylvie slowly removed her glove, running her bare hand along Loki’s face. She took note of the way the breath hitched in his throat, his eyes fluttering shut.

“How long has it been since someone held you like this?” Curiously, she removed her other glove, cupping his face in her hands and drawing her thumbs all over his soft skin. He was beautiful, and there had never been any question about it, but to see him like this, mouth open, eyes shut, it was otherworldly. His head rolled from side to side, unsure of which way to lean in order to maximize the feeling of her skin on his. His breaths had grown more shallow, and he was quietly panting against her as she held him. “Years? Centuries?”

“A bit of bo-” His words died on his tongue as she pressed her lips to his throat, her hands tangling in his hair. “Oh, don’t stop…” His words were almost a moan as she continued. It was just as bad for her. She had had several flings in the past, merely to keep herself going, but she had made it abundantly clear that nothing was ever real. Not until she met Loki…

Sylvie squeaked as she felt herself lifted and flipped over, a large weight suddenly on top of her. Her senses were scrambled by the feeling, the scent of citrus and spice, and a pair of warm lips suddenly devouring her own. Her mind was addled with the feel of him against her, and she lost all ability to perceive the world around her as she kissed him like her life depended on it.

Eventually, someone would stumble upon them, kissing in varied stages of undress. The story of an entangled couple who disappeared in a flash of green light was one that would echo through the town, sending search parties into that very woods for a short period of time until the next place they had been spotted cropped up on the internet. Chaos always suited them better, anyway...

#pro sylki #loki and sylvie #touch starved Loki #hug him please

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aadi-kted · 3 years

Text

Winners Keepers

A/N - Ok so until now, I have mostly written on Peter Parker x Reader. But i just had to write on Nick Scratch. I know its Nabrina for life, but a girl can dream, cant she? Special thanks to @darkshadowqueensrule and @miniaturepizzadyedhairfreak for helping me and encouraging me! Hope you guys enjoy it!

Pairing - Nick Scratch x Reader

Enemies to Lovers

W/C - Around 5k!!

Warnings! - Some explicit scenes (no sex) and a lot of snarky retorts!

Enjoy!!

~~~

You and Nick had gotten off to a particularly rocky start. Anyone who knew you knew that you could hold on to a grudge. When you had first met Nick, you had to admit that he was dashing, and you may have developed the tiniest crush on him. I mean, come on, you were a witch after all! But all those admiring thoughts flew out of your head as soon as he had opened his mouth. He was probably the most arrogant and cocky bastard you had the misfortune of meeting. He hadn’t said anything to you, but the way he spoke with the others, you just knew. This was just your first day at the Academy of Unseen Arts, but everyone already knew you. It was quite inevitable, after all, you were Sabrina’s best friend and she was pretty popular here, even if it wasn’t for the right reasons. Sabrina didn’t have this class with you, but you knew you would see her later. Meanwhile, all you could do was marvel at Nick and his big head.

As if sensing that you were staring at him, he turned around and looked at you. He cocked an eyebrow, “See something you like, Y/L/N?”

“Nothing worth seeing here, Scratch.”

You knew you were treading dangerous waters, but you couldn’t help yourself. Both of you maintained eye contact with each other, as though you were under a spell, and suddenly the moment was broken by the entrance of Lady Blackwood.

“Now students, I expect that you all have memorized the lyrics of the song?”

“Good.” She exclaimed as all the students nodded. “Miss Y/L/N, please sing the first verse.”

You could feel everyone's eyes turn towards you and you decided that it was better to die than being in the limelight. You could see the weird sisters looking at you. They looked like predators, just waiting to hound on the unassuming prey. But what really irritated you, was the way Scratch was smirking at you. Like he knew that he knew that you would fail. This ignited a fire inside you and you decided right then and there, that no matter what, you would never let that asshole have the satisfaction of seeing you fail.

Taking a deep breath and steadying your nerves, you started singing-

“It's time we put our love behind you

The illusion has been just a dream

The valley of death and I'll find you

Now is when on a sunshine beam

So bring all the young perfection

For there us shall surely be

No clothing, tears, or hunger

You can see, you can see, you can be”

You gave yourself to music and the notes. You were so engrossed in your singing that you didn’t notice that Nick was staring at you.

Nick was enthralled. Your voice had captured his soul and he felt...light, as though he was floating in the air. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought that you were a siren, lulling unsuspecting victims into your trap. Nick, would never admit this, but when he had felt someone staring at him, he had totally expected it would either be one of the weird sisters or some guy who didn’t like him. He never expected that he would be looking at you. He was rendered speechless by you. It was not your beauty that captured his eyes, but the way you carried yourself. Your eyes looked as though they could drown someone in its depths. Your stance declared that you would not kneel to anyone and your lips looked like they could kill with just words. He was unnerved by what you made him feel, and in an effort to seem cool he opened his damned mouth and released a string of words.

“See something you like, Y/L/N?”

He cursed himself as soon as the words left his mouth. There was no way that that was playing it off cool.

“Nothing worth seeing here, Scratch.”

Ah! He should have expected this. She had a mouth on her. This just made her seem more interesting. He was unable to take his eyes off her and their eyes met, as though in a match to see who would emerge victoriously. Before a conclusion could be reached, they were interrupted by Lady Blackwood. She asked Y/L/N to sing the first verse.

This is going to be interesting. He thought to himself. He couldn’t help but smirk. She looked like a deer caught in headlights. Guess the confidence was just in her posture.

Suddenly, she threw a look at him, and then, it was as though another spirit had entered her body. She gathered herself and prepared to sing. She looked captivating as hell and he could only stare at her. He imagined he looked quite ridiculous then. He felt ridiculous. But it was impossible to rip his eyes away from her. She demanded attention, even if she didn’t want it. And then, she began singing.

You held your breath as soon as you finished the song. It felt that if you took even a single breath then everything would come crashing down on you. However, Lady Blackwood had no such trepidation.

“Oh my! That was rather...well done.”

You finally allowed yourself to sigh in relief and looked around you. Your eyes caught Nick’s, but you diverted them as soon as they met and in doing so you missed the soft, admiring smile which graced his face.

Fortunately, the rest of the class passed without an incident, and you were practically sagging with relief as you made your way to the Cafeteria where Sabrina was waiting for you.

“Y/N/N!” She exclaimed as she waved you over. “Survived your first day I see?”

“Hardly. Most of the classes went fine, but Singing was horrible!”

‘Lady Blackwood? She made you sing too?”

“Yeah, by myself too! As if my crippling anxiety and awkwardness weren’t apparent enough.

Sabrina let out a laugh and just shrugged as if to say, School can be the worst. You gladly agreed with that.

You both continued to talk about your day but were then interrupted by Nick.

“Nick!” Sabrina happily exclaimed as you made a face upon his entrance.

“Hey ‘brina.”

“Y/L/N.” he acknowledged you with a nod

“Scratch.” You replied coldly.

Sabrina finally caught up on the tension between you. Too scared to address it, she continued to talk as though nothing had occurred. However, you were too busy staring daggers at Scratch to even listen to what she was saying. From the looks of it, Nick wasn’t paying attention to her too.

Sabrina finally gave up and decided to address the elephant in the room.

“I gather you have both met before?”

“It would be hard to forget that meeting” You replied from with a grimace.

Nick just ignored her question.

“I see you are just as pleasant as ever Y/L/N.”

“Couldn’t find any other table which could accommodate your big head, could you Scratch?” You casually replied as you turned away from him.

“You know, you should come with a warning label. So that people know that you are just as snarky as you are pretty.”

There was a beat of silence. Sabrina looked like she couldn’t breathe, while Nick looked horrified when he realized what he had just spoken. You, on the other hand, were downright gleeful at this opportunity.

“You think I am pretty, lover boy?” You smirked.

“No, I just think you are pretty dumb.” He retorts in the most flustered and juvenile manner.

You can't help the smirk which was growing on your face. You felt evil and you liked that.

“Are you sure, lover boy? The only one dumb around here would be you. I did beat you in singing today!” You sniggered.

Pfft, please! That was just singing. You are nowhere near as capable as I am and you never will be.

The way he said that angered you. How dare he insinuate that you were not as capable as him.

While these thoughts raced through your mind, Nick just stared at you in awe. He knew that he was getting on your nerves, but it excited him. The way your eyes flashed, how your expressions changed just as swiftly as the conversation. If you had been any other person, he would have asked you out immediately. But you weren’t any other person, and he liked that about you. What he couldn’t seem to figure out though, was why you were so angry and annoyed with him. He hadn’t done anything when he had first met you. Sure, he had said a couple of things now, but you had been aggravated with him long before that. He knew he would never be able to get close to you the way he wanted. To get you flushed for him. To make you scream his name in pleasure and to make you hot for him. But he knew that you would never allow that. At least, not yet. So for now, he had to be content in just seeing you flush out of pure rage, to hear you scream his name from frustration and get hot and bothered by him.

His thoughts were interrupted when you stood up and slammed your hand on the counter. Fortunately, it wasn’t loud enough for the other students to take notice. However, you couldn’t care less even if the entire world could hear your proclamation.

“I warn you Scratch, you will be begging for mercy before the year is through and you will regret ever saying that I wasn’t as capable as you.”

“I assure you, darling, I won't be the one begging.”

If looks could kill, Nicholas Scratch would have been one very dead man.

“Dream on, lover boy.”

“Is your drama going to have an intermission soon, darling?” Nick teased.

You just gave him an evil smile,

Oh lover boy, the curtains haven’t even risen yet.

You had meant every word you had said to Nick that day and you were adamant to prove that to him. You studied hard and practised every spell you could get your hands on, even the ones which weren’t in the syllabus. You were the youngest in the school, and Nick had been there for such a long time. You would be damned if you couldn’t beat him.

Nick knew that you had been perfectly serious and had no intention of losing without a fair fight. He also started studying and revising.

There was an undeniable shift in the air between the both of you. There was palpable tension and everyone could feel it. The competition between you just continued to grow and everyone was roped into it. Sabrina was shocked to see you so serious, but you were her best friend and she supported you. She became your study partner and you both tackled studies together.

You and Nick spent most of your time in the library studying, Sabrina had other things to deal with, and you didn’t force her to join you. However, you would have preferred it, especially since lover boy had decided to torture you more by sitting next to you in the library. You never conversed with him, even if he tried to.

One such day, you were doing your work in the library when you were interrupted by Nick.

“Your solution is wrong.”

“Funny. I don’t remember asking for your help.” you snarked back.

“Come on Y/L/N, wouldn’t it be just easier if we tried to get along?”

“No, and you shouldn’t even be here.”

“Why not,” he asked

“Because I don’t want you here.”

Nick gave a sigh of resignation and just left the library. He really liked Y/N, and so he couldn’t bear to see her working herself to death.

You felt a twinge of guilt as you watched him leave. Maybe you had been too harsh, but you couldn’t help it. You had to pass. Failing wasn’t an option

The next day, you went to class with a determined stance. You would prove it to him. Your hand shot up in the air to answer before the teacher had even finished asking the question.

Yes, Miss Y/L/N?

You confidently gave the correct answer and turned back to throw a victorious smile to Nick. But you were surprised to see that he had never raised his hand. Maybe he didn’t know the answer, you mused.

However, when the rest of the day passed in a similar fashion you knew that he was doing this intentionally. With each passing hour, you grew more and more frustrated until you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

It confused you, you couldn’t understand why you were so frustrated by this. You should have been happy that he had given up, cause that meant that you had won. But, this felt empty and bad. That was when you realized that it wasn’t the competition you had been craving, but him and his company. The realization that you actually liked that fucker hit you like a bolt of lightning. You suddenly couldn’t breathe and had to lean against the wall to support yourself. How could you actually like him!? He had constantly made stupid remarks and his ego was so inflated that you actually wondered whether he would burst! But, even as you thought that, you started thinking about how he was nice with everyone around him. He helped the slower students and he was always courteous with everyone. Maybe you had been too quick to judge him. Sure, he got on your nerves and constantly rubbed off your wrong side, but he hadn’t been mean to you. You took a shuddering breath as you realized how wrong you had been. You groaned as you realized that you now owed him an apology, but only for being mean to him first. You would never apologise for trying to best him because that was something he was responsible for. Your feelings for him was something you didn’t want to address yet. It would fuck up your already fucked up life.

As soon as the school ended you made your way towards the library and waited for Nick. When he started passing by the door you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him inside a secluded corner as you slammed the door shut.

The surprised expression on his face would have been rather comical, had you not been mad at him.

“What do you think you are doing!?” You practically growled at him.

“I honestly have no idea right now”

“Don’t play smart with me,” you snapped, “Why haven’t you been answering the questions?

“Because I don't care anymore!

Any thoughts you previously had about apologising to him flew out of your mind.

“What do you mean you don't care anymore?” You inhaled sharply, “You started this entire thing!”

“I didn’t know that you were going to make yourself crazy over this!”

Why do you care whether I make myself crazy over this? You started it and you are going to finish it!

Nick just pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, “I am not doing this Y/N.”

“Why did you start this then?”

“Because I didn’t know how else to get you to talk to me!” He finally shouted.

A queer silence descended between the both of you. He looked at you as though waiting to see your reaction. That was when you noticed how close you were standing to each other. Your bodies were practically touching, and your breaths were intermingling. You couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting to his lips. You lashes fluttered as you looked back up to him, only to see that he was staring at your lips too. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You rose on your tiptoes and kissed him. For a moment he didn’t kiss you back, and you felt like your hopes were drowning. Maybe he didn’t like you that way. But then, you felt his lips move against yours. Your hands weaved through his hair and his encircled your waist. You jumped off the ground and wrapped your legs around his waist, ankles crossed to support yourself. Your mouth never left his as he turned around and you felt your back hit the wall. It didn’t hurt you, but you just held him more tightly. Your tongues clashed and you could taste him on your mouth. His lips then left your mouth even though you didn’t want it to and he placed kisses on your neck. You both were heaving from breathlessness, but you didn’t let that deter you. You placed kisses on his cheek and felt his hands travelling up and down your waist ever so slightly brushing against the underside of your breasts. You threw your head back in pleasure as you felt him getting bolder and travelling further down your neck. His hands brushed against the sleeve of your top, but before he could push it down, the door flew open and you both parted as though struck by lightning. You turned around to see Sabrina staring at you with wide eyes.

“What the fuck happened here?”

You tried to control your breathing, and you could see that Nick was doing that too. Thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to explain the situation.

Did he regret it? Did you overstep any boundaries? You had practically attacked him and did not even give him a chance to say. With every such thought, you were getting more and more horrified. Your feelings must have been written all over your face, and Nick easily read them, however, he thought that you were horrified at the thought of having kissed him. He felt as though someone had ripped his heart from his chest. In a quiet voice, he answered Sabrina’s question,

“Nothing.”

Nothing. That word broke your heart. Nothing. That’s what you meant to him. Nothing. That’s what had happened between you two. Nothing. That’s what would ever happen between you two. That word conveyed more than enough about what you meant to him.

“I need to go.” You said, as your voice broke over the last two words.

You rushed out before anyone could see the tears streaming down your face. You could hear Sabrina following you out, asking you to stop. But you didn’t stop until you reached your home, where you finally broke down in the arms of your best friend

Nick watched in devastation as you rushed off. He thought that when you had kissed him, it was because you had actually felt something for him. But upon seeing your reaction when Sabrina stumble upon the both of you, he knew that it was pointless. With a sigh of resignation, he started making his way out of the room. Before he could do so, however, he was stopped by a hand on his chest.

Well, well, well. Looks what the cat dragged in. Heard you and Y/N finally decided to fuck the life out of each other.

“You have the rest of your life to be a jerk, Agatha, why don’t you take the day off?”

“Ooh. Snarky! I like that.” Agatha exclaimed as she fingered the collar of his shirt. “Why don’t you forget about her and let me show you a good time?”

Nick’s patience was thinning fast. He grabbed her hands off his body. “I don't have time for this Agatha.”

“Fine,” she said as she smiled evilly. But don’t come running back to me or my sisters when that bitch leaves you.”

She turned around and left the room, leaving Nick alone to ponder about everything that had just conspired.

“What happened Y/N?”

“I kissed him”

There was a beat of silence.

“And he kissed me back.”

More silence.

“Say something.” You pleaded as you looked at Sabrina. You both were sitting on her bed. You didn’t want to be in your house with your snoopy siblings, so you had begged Sabrina to have this conversation at her home. Sabrina was naturally dying to know what had happened so she readily agreed.

Finally, she spoke, “I thought you hated him.”

“I thought so too.” You sniffled, “but I guess I got so caught up in the stupid competition that I didn't even realize when my feelings for him started changing. But it doesn’t even matter now. He doesn’t like me back the way I do. I was nothing to him.”

Sabrina felt helpless as she looked at you.

“You should forget about him. You deserve someone who actually likes and doesn't just use you as a pastime. You deserve more Y/N”

You knew that what Sabrina was saying was correct but you couldn’t forget about Nick so easily. You needed some time alone.

“You’re right,” you said as you stood up from the bed. “I do deserve more, I just need som-some time ’brina. I’ll see you tomorrow, kay?”

Sabrina just nodded as she watched you leave.

Back in your home, you took a bath trying to forget about everything that had happened today. You scrubbed your body as though trying to forget about how he had touched you. How his hands had roamed on your body. How his kisses felt on your skin. The way he had kissed you, the way it felt when you touched him. Needless to say, the bath hadn’t helped at all. You came out of the bathroom more frustrated than ever and as you crossed your room something caught your eye. You turned around and saw your reflection in the full-length mirror. It wasn’t your nakedness that made you feel vulnerable, but the marks that had been left on your body. Love marks, you realized. Your neck was peppered with his love marks and it just served to make you sadder. Your fingers brushed against the marks and you thought that you could still feel the way he had touched and kissed you. You were startled out of your daze when you heard someone say your name.

“Y/N”

You were shocked to find Nick staring at you and for a moment you were frozen. It was only when you noticed him averting his eyes, did you remember you were naked. Gasping, you quickly wrapped your towel around your body and stared at him

“Nick! What-how are you here?”

“Well, I am not really here. I’m astral projecting”

“Praise Satan! You can’t just do that. I was naked when you came into my room!”

“I did enjoy the view though.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood.

You felt your blood boil. He had no right to do that. To joke as though you were the best of friends, as though nothing had happened.

“Stop!” you practically screamed, “You, you can't just do that!”

“Sorry, I was just trying to-”

“I know what you were trying to do.” you cut him off before you could finish. “But I mean nothing to you. You don’t get to kiss me and touch me and then just leave.”

“You were the one who left.” He retorted

“Only because you said it meant nothing to you.”

“I didn’t mean that! Sabrina just startled me with her entrance and I said the first thing that came to my mind.”

“Go away, Nick”

Nick inhaled sharply when he heard his name on your lips for the first time.

“Why do you care so much about what I said”

“Does it matter?” You said resignedly “Why are you here?”

“To tell you that I don’t want to leave this time.

You froze, worried that if you moved then whatever trance this was, would break.

“I want to go out with you. I want to kiss you and touch you. And I don’t want all that while we are hiding in the darkest corner of the library.”

You could hardly breathe. He wanted the same things that you did. If this was some kind of cruel trick then you would kill whoever was responsible. As you were thinking about that you realized that he had stopped speaking, waiting for your response

“Y/N, please, say something.”

Do you really want that? you said breathlessly like you couldn’t believe it.

“All of it. And all of you.” He smiled as he continued, “From the moment I met you, I was enchanted by you. Everything you did, captivated me. I wanted to talk to you but I was rendered speechless and somehow the first things that came from my mouth, were insults. Then, I guess you hated me and I knew that you would never talk to me. So, I tried to irritate you and mock you. I never meant to start this stupid competition but it was worth it if it meant that you would at least look at me, so I went along with it. Today, when you kissed me, I was afraid that if I stopped you would leave me. And then you did leave me. But I don’t want to leave now, not unless you want me to.”

His entire monologue felt like a breath of fresh air. You felt like you could finally breathe again. As soon as he finished, he looked at you with hopeful eyes.

A small smile graced your face, “I owe you an apology too. I judged you way too harshly, even before I knew you. During the entire competition, my only goal was to make you lose, but I couldn’t help but see how kind you were to everyone else. How intelligent you were and how much fun I had whenever we were competing. Every time I was away from you, I was craving for your snarky remarks and when you laughed that stupid laugh of yours whenever I said something even marginally funny. I don’t want to leave, nor do I want you to leave”.

You were smiling so much that it hurt, but it was all worth it to listen to his laugh as you talked. There was a moment of silence when you finished speaking.

“Do you really want all that?” He asked as if he still couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I do,” you confirmed. “I wish I could touch you right now.”

“Me too. Would-would you mind coming out to the academy right now?” He asked in an unsure tone, afraid that you would say no.

Your smile grew, even though you thought that wasn’t possible.

“Race you to the tree on the boundary?”

‘You’re on!’

Nick vanished, and you gave a disbelieving sigh, still only partially convinced that all this was a real. You quickly grabbed and wore the clothes you had laid out, and rushed from the back door towards the academy.

You hadn’t expected that you would reach the tree before him and therefore you weren’t surprised when you saw him waiting there for you. As if sensing that you were approaching, he turned around and his face broke into a smile. You rushed towards him and threw yourself on him, hugging him with all your might.

“I was half-convinced that I was dreaming.” You confessed to him.

“Dream of me a lot, do you?” He asked you in a teasing tone.

You laughed and pulled back from the hug, and instead leaned in, joining your foreheads. “I’m glad you are still the same cocky bastard.”

He smiled at your teasing and grabbed your hand, weaving his fingers through yours.

“I like the way your hand fits in mine.” He said bashfully.

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him, “You know...I can kiss better than you, lover boy...!”

You felt him silently laugh against your lips, “We’ll just see about that, darling.”

~~~

Congrats! You reached the end! I hope you liked it! Feel free to leave me comments and send some asks and love!!

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the-children · 3 years

Text

The Westmoore Tragedies | Chapter 3

[ TW: Mentions of Gore ]

The weight of his sword was immensely comforting to Rodarin—not only in case of another bizarre happening, but in fondness of his days of adventure. His trusted short sword hung within its sheath by his side, still humming with old enchantments he had woven himself in the past. “Everyone’s on edge—people are fuckin’ terrified” said Ahldmhas, the Captain who awoke Rodarin with grave news. “They wanna know what th’fuck’s happenin’.” “We all do..” Rodarin murmured in return, his brow knitting in frustration as worry, fatigue, and dread all gnawed at his core once the schoolhouse came into view against the grey overcast. A crowd had already gathered, theories and panic murmured amongst one another as a line of privateers blocked their entry, only shifting to the side to allow the pair through. Their footsteps echoed along the main hall as they made for the staircase dead ahead. The school had been emptied once the Maelstrom arrived—it felt so lonely inside these halls without the staff, without the children. For a brief moment his vision flickered, the sickening crimson taint flashing before Rodarin’s eyes to paint the surreal emptiness with a nightmarish foreboding, causing a spike of panic to chill his veins, and his stride to falter.

Within the next blink of an eye, it was gone—an armored hand placed on Rodarin’s shoulder as Ahldmhas turned to him with concern. “Aye, you alright? Yer shakin’..” Rodarin steeled his nerves, offering a rapid nod to shake his panic and steady his pulse. “Yeah, sorry.. Just remembered something..” I’m not there anymore. I’m here—he told himself. They proceeded up the staircase, the sense of dread clawing deeper into his spine, a slight nausea settling in his stomach—not over the growing smell of blood and viscera, but in anticipation for what he would see. Reaching the top of his stairs, he was confronted with what he had hoped had been a lie—the blood trail, dragged from the first open room to the last at the end of the hall. The tiny shoe prints dotting within, only a handful of larger prints off to the side, likely of the first privateers to arrive at the scene.

As they stepped into the first classroom, his vision flashed once more—the tainted crimson washing over the scene of mangled chairs and corpses. Just like yesterday. Rodarin flinched and shuddered, his right hand darting to clasp over his eyes while his left pressed to the wall to keep himself balanced. A ragged exhale barely escaped clenched teeth. I’m not there anymore. I’m here—he repeated, slowly dragging his hand down to look again. The crimson taint was gone, but the scene was the same. Exactly the same. Ahldmhas gave Rodarin a light pat on the back. “It’s fuckin’ disgustin’, I know.. But that’s not all. C’mon.” The Captain made off for the next room, following alongside the drag marks in the hall. Yes, there was more, and Rodarin was sure he knew what was left. This couldn’t be possible.

Standing within the doorway of the last classroom, a sense of despair grasped at his heart, steadily dragging it to the pits of his stomach. As he suspected—the same bodies were scattered around the room in pools of their blood, tiny shoes and hands printed throughout the room. Their corpses were just as mutilated as the last, and some of the skin-bound crafts still littered the room. A couple of removed eyes were left lying in a pile, and various crafts of bloodied, pulled teeth glued to dark papers were hung among the display board–a twisted comparison to the macaroni pieces nearby. He remembered the victims squirming and twitching in the crimson shadows—it must have been agonizing. Even Ahldmhas’ expression was soured—the usually stoic man averting his gaze from the carnage. “It’s like a buncha’ fuckin’ kids did this, Rodarin. What th’fuck is goin’ on?.. Y’think they made ‘em watch while they did all this? Forced ‘em to play with this shit? What kind’a sick fucks..”

Kids did do this–Rodarin mentally replied, his heart sinking further at the mere prospect. His gaze slowly fell to the mangled corpse near his right—Melrin, that poor bastard.. He always wanted children of his own, but he was pronounced infertile. He had planned to adopt before the Orphanage Massacre. And to have been slaughtered by children so soon after?.. Yes—despair. It was hopeless. They were all going to die. His hand lifted to brush through his hair once more, tugging sharply at his dark locks to sting some sense back into himself. No, focus. Rodarin released a shaky exhale before he began to speak to the other investigators. The older children—the teens, were confirmed to have been told to stay home by an anonymous source. That, apparently, there was no school today. There weren’t enough bodies to account for every staff member—some were missing along with the children. This was by far the largest murder-kidnapping connected to these events to date. Thirteen dead and mutilated. Over sixty children, missing. There had to be a clue—a sane clue.

Rodarin began to pace between the classrooms, studying meticulously. It was his own comfort, in a way—to distract himself with work from this damned madness. Between his own investigation and the staff records, Rodarin was finally able to piece something together, despite the occasional inconsistency. Of the staff, only the young were missing. The inconsistencies were a few young male teachers—such as Merlin, and a single twenty-three year old female teacher—Ms. Belise. Aside from that, every single young, female teacher was missing, along with a small handful of young male teachers. They were all in their twenties. Why was this the connection? Why were some of the young killed anyway? And why all this to take children? Rodarin’s jaw popped from the pressure of his clenched teeth that deep thought had strained upon them—he needed some air.

The cool touch of stone kissed against the exposed skin of Rodarin’s arms, a long and deep inhale slowly filling his lungs to the brim with clear air. It was a night and day difference here behind the schoolyard, although the now-abandoned playground equipment gave it a slightly solemn appearance. Compared to the thick, choking carnage upstairs—this was much needed tranquility. His fingers brushed and massaged at his forehead as it throbbed painfully—he still couldn’t make any sense of it. Something sinister was happening, that much was obvious. But if he had really seen the act as it unfolded, and a day earlier on top of that—if the children were really behind the atrocious killings and mutilations.. What the hells did that mean?

A sudden blur in the corner of his vision averted his attention to the treeline of the nearby forest. It was fairly shaded within, thanks for the overbearing clouds that thickened the sky in a depressing grey—so it was hard to tell. But as Rodarin focused more intensely, he could see it—the shadow-coated child standing at the edge, staring upon him with its wide eyes of pure glowing white, and a similarly wide smile to match. With a slow wave, the child beckoned him to follow before disappearing into the forest. It was one of them. Those dreadful shadowed children that watched from the corner—that clawed at his leg. Rodarin broke from the wall he leaned upon, frantically sprinting for the treeline to follow the path the child had taken. If there were any answers to find, those shades would have them.

Gentle wind rushed against his ear to join the beating of his heart as he raced through the slowly but steadily thickening trees. Huffs of breath escaped his lips, his boots kicking up dirt and grass behind the urgency of his pace. Where did it go? A soft voice caused him to grind to a halt, sending him toppling onto his knees as he searched each direction for the source. There, to the west—one of the missing teachers, holding the hand of two school children as they seemed to lead her forward! They were ushering her forward, though their exact words were too soft to hear from this distance. “Hey! Stop!” He cried, though it seemed to fall upon deaf ears. Grunting in frustration, Rodarin scrambled to his feet and broke into another sprint as their figures disappeared behind trunks and foliage of the forest. Reaching the area they disappeared behind, he found them further up ahead. They turned, facing the right, and simply stared—seemingly beyond a nearby tree. Rodarin turned to look in the same direction, desperate to follow their gaze to something, anything—but all he saw was more forest. He turned back to the trio, watching as they began to walk forward. A tree blocked them as they moved behind it.....and then, nothing. They never reappeared. Were they hiding behind it?

A brisk jog brought Rodarin closer—and the closer he came, the darker the forest seemed to become. No, not again.. His pace slowed, an all-too-familiar sense of dread filling the air between each soft crunch of grass beneath his feet. This is just like the school from before–just like the staircase. His gaze continued to shoot off towards the right, but nothing ever seemed to appear. What had they been staring at? The answer came soon, as Rodarin turned to gaze behind the same tree they vanished behind. It was a pathway, trees tightly lining the sides, like some naturally formed tunnel. The darkness grew thicker as the path progressed, and towards the very end he could see that damned crimson taint slowly bleeding into the darkness. He stepped back, looking around the other side of the tree—there was nothing but dark, open forest. Stepping back again, the path of trees returned. What sort of illusion was this? What kind of twisted game was being played here? His right hand came to rest upon the hilt of his sword, squeezing tightly as the leather bindings stretched in his palm. He wasn’t sure what awaited beyond the darkness—but this time, he was prepared. With a metallic ring, Rodarin drew his sword from its sheath—flames bursting to life and licking across the steel against the old runes he left years ago. Blade steady, he moved forward into the bleeding dark.

͔͙͡ ̹̰̣ ̮̰ ̡ ̤t̥̭͝o҉̳͉̹ ̝̣͞ḅe̗͟ ̬͈͙̞̯̦͝ͅc͈̠͍̣̣̤̕ͅo̧n͍̜̳̪̙ţ͎̳̼i̙͉̻̗̬n̰u̸e͟d̝̱̻̭̜͙ ̭̫͈͈ͅ .

#The Children #Rodarin Calrise #Westmoore #It's time again #Origins #FFXIV RP #Crystal LFRP #Mateus RP #Balmung RP

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cassiecasyl · 3 years

Text

stay (said the ghost to the living)

I missed writing irondad.

prompts: @whumpay2021 day 1: “I thought you were dead” + day 28: chains relationship: Peter Parker & Tony Stark summary: There’s chains holding him to life, saying it’s not his time yet.

read on ao3!

~~~

There had been a scream, Peter remembered as much. The concrete had been hard under his body as pain faded. A few tears had still burned in his eyes. The cold had come from the chain wrapped around his right ankle, the one he was now holding in his hands, and had spread over his whole body. There had been a scream so loud it rattled through his bones, so loud it could’ve woken the dead.

Now, he was walking in a dream. Colors and shapes blurred together even though there was no wetness on his cheeks. His eyes just wouldn’t focus. Distorted sounds sometimes made it through, but never a word. He was alone.

It must’ve been a while since it happened, whatever it was, because their surroundings had changed from dark and muddy grey to bright and sterile white. There was the light that always blinded Peter when he was in medbay— wait. Medbay. Someone was hurt. Please, no, don’t let it be— He sucked in a breath that wizzed right through his body as he turned around, the chain in his hands rattling anxiously while he looked around.

Peter stood next to a bed, the room abandoned except for two — no, three, there was somebody in the bed, he couldn’t see, can’t see, can’t see, who is it? — figures. Somebody was watching him. They stood close to the door, as if they weren’t sure whether they were intruding. But also, where they could overlook the whole room. Peter narrowed his eyes, focusing on them. A blob of red, a frown framing sharp, scary and knowing eyes. Nat. Peter almost wanted to smile at her, to celebrate his vision finally focusing and because she would know what happened, but then he noticed the tear tracks on her usually stoic face. No. The teenager’s eyes widened in fear.

He took a step back and raised his arms in an attempt to get away from under her scrutinizing gaze. Clattering noise shook his body— he had forgotten the chain in his hands. Nat’s eyes narrowed further. “Mrs Romanoff?” Peter whispered, but no air passed his lips. What had he done? Then, her eyes left him to search the room and Peter could feel himself fading.

The only thing keeping him anchored to reality it seemed was the cold iron touching his fingers, grounding him, linking him to the very ground he was standing on, or maybe to hell. Peter didn’t know. They shuddered with him, shattering against its parts, one by one. This time, the hunched over figure by the bed looked up.

Peter was found in those brown eyes, the very same color as his, just a tad darker, but something was wrong. His face was fallen, devastated, looking out with utter hopelessness and barely contained anger — the bad taste grief left. “Mr. Stark?” he asked, but was drowned out by the man’s breaking voice.

“Stop it, Nat.”

“I’m not doing anything,” the spy answered.

“I don’t care,” Tony mumbled, returning his gaze to the body lying on the bed. Peter ventured closer, chains clanking and fingers itching to give his mentor comfort. “What’s that noise then?” Tony barked, not bothering to hide his frustration.

Peter stopped short as he noticed who was lying there. It wasn’t possible.

“I’m trying to figure that out.”

They were mourning him. But— he was here, alive, wasn’t he? He looked down his body, but his vision was blurring again. Alive. His bones were freezing, bidding him a good night. Alive. Peter reached out to Tony, fingers leaving his burial iron in favor of the Iron Man. How could they not? Instead of stopping at the man’s shoulder though, they continued, invincibly, through his skin and flesh. In horror, he retreated his hand, mustering it under the unforgiving light of the medbay. He looked up at Tony. His mentor never even noticed.

Dead. He was dead. How? The more he tried, the less came up. Where once was a beat, now silence reigned. Peter cried out devoid of tears. Where once was air, now was a void, and Peter knew he’d collapse into it, into himself. Why couldn’t he breathe? There was a black hole in his middle, and the more he struggled, the more it took, but he couldn’t stop. He shuddered and with him that damn, chattering chain.

“What the hell?” Tony asked, more awake now, staring straight through him. His eyes could’ve been lasers, as much as it hurt.

Chattering? Hold on—

Natasha moved through the room, approaching and then walking away again, almost touching as she walked by. Peter already yearned for human touch. He was suffocating in space’s vacuum. Warm comfort was right next to him, yet he could never reach it. He was Tantalus in his pool deep down in Tartarus, never quite reaching the delicious fruit hanging above his head. He was so cold.

They returned, stopping right in his center, somehow avoiding the black hole. It was impossible. He was burning up, his ice fighting the sudden human heat. Who was she? Peter blinked. He was swaying in and out of reality. Mom? No, why would he see his mom, she died when he was four, plane crash, remember? The reason why he never really trusted planes anymore. That, and Coney Island. Yes, he remembered. He was here. No reason his mom would be here, unless he was— oh. He was dead.

“It’s definitely coming from here,” Natasha determined, and Peter grasped her identity. Nat. Mrs. Romanoff. Black Widow. Spider-Mama, as Clint had one time called her, imitating a Russian accent. After the glare Nat had sent him, no one dared to repeat the words. Later, she had teased Clint on his hilariously bad accent work.

She was still standing inside him, and Peter could hardly imagine a more uncomfortable feeling. The shiver working through his body translated into hers and she stepped away, rubbing her arms. Peter breathed in relief only to once again realize that air was indifferent to him. Afterlife sucked, he decided.

“Since when are there cold spots in the compound?” she asked. Mr. Stark frowned.

Chattering, Peter thought again. Chattering. There was something— right, morse code! He almost hit himself on the head because damn his slow undead brain — was it undead? He’d established that he was dead, but how could he be standing here if he was braindead? Why was he still lying in a hospital bed instead of the morgue? Had Mr. Stark not given him up yet? FRIDAY would surely pick up his brain waves. There was nothing science could really tell Peter about this. It would be exciting if it wasn’t so frightening and lonely. Noisy rattling interrupted his thinking.

He moved his chains around until he could clank two of its parts together rather than the whole thing sounding. It should work that way. Peter waited a calming moment before he began to bring them together with a dinging noise. Two short — I. Two long — M. Pause. Four short — H. One short — E. Short, long, short — R. One short again — E. Pause, and repeat. Two short — I. Two long — M. Pause. Four short — H. One short — E…

“That’s morse code,” Nat said suddenly, bringing Peter back from the trance the dinging had brought him in. “‘I’m here.’ It says, ‘I’m here.’”

“‘I’m here’?” Tony repeated. “Who’s ‘I’? Is this some kind of sick joke?” There was fear in his eyes now, masked with anger. Peter almost jumped. He stopped.

“No, Mr. Stark!” he said in desperation, “It’s me! It’s Peter!” Then, remembering his voice, he morsed. Long, short; three long — NO.

“No? What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony stood up now, towering over him in anger, and Peter stumbled back. He remembered a scream rattling his bones in a way his chains could never achieve. He remembered the cold entering his body and nothing stopping it. He remembered how his vision became spotty before the black color filled it all. He remembered waking up. I’m here.

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled, closing his eyes and letting a tear fall. It burned his icy skin as it ran down his cheek and along his skin in search of a good jumping point. Finally, it left him. Wait— he’d felt it. He was crying. There was water in his eyes. He blinked them open only to find the two adults in the room staring at him.

Awkwardly, he waved his hand, and the chain rattled along. Tony blinked. “This isn’t real,” he said, falling back into his chair next to Peter’s bed, never leaving the ghost of his kid out of sight. They could see him. Peter grinned. They could see him.

“Oh, you’re a Shaniac. Good to know if this ever happens again,” Peter joked into the tense room. Nat let out a near-manic chuckle, and Tony only stared. Fear had turned to amazement and hope and a tear left his left eye.

It was Peter’s turn to blink at his mentor. “You can hear me?” he asked, uncertainty lacing his tongue. A smile grew on Tony’s face and Peter couldn’t help but grin back.

“Whatever a Shaniac is, it’s good to hear your voice, kid.” He stood up again and opened his arms in invitation. However much Peter would’ve loved to jump right into the hug, he couldn’t. He held him back with his hand, lightly touching Tony’s hand to show him. His illusioned hand went right through Mr. Stark’s solid body, just as expected.

“No touch. Sorry.” As he looked back up at Mr. Stark, there were tears in his eyes. It was like watching his heart break all over again, and Peter choked on air that still refused to enter his lungs — it was as afraid as he was of the void there.

Tony stepped back and Peter looked to the ground. “FRI, Give me footage of this room. Now!” Peter flinched a little at the harshness in Mr. Stark’s voice, but eventually came closer to spy on the footage too. FRIDAY had immediately designed Mr. Stark a holoscreen, only giving a quick verbal confirmation — “Right away, Boss.”

They watched themselves sitting and standing there. It was almost dull and pointless, except for knowing where the cameras were. Instead of Peter, a glowing bulb hung in the air. The boy moved a little, watching how the ball followed his movements. “Cool,” he whispered.

Tony glanced up at him. If he was surprised by Peter’s sudden proximity, he didn’t show it. “Ghost?” he asked.

“Ghost,” Peter confirmed with a nod. It was the only possible explanation.

Tony sighed. “Oh, for fu— goodness’ sakes, why must it be you to prove me wrong here?” he lamented and Peter chuckled.

“Told you you’re a Shaniac.”

“I still don’t know what that means,” the genius admitted, and Peter shared a quick, knowing look with Nat. “Now get the hell over here and back into your body!”

“Tony,” Mrs. Romanoff said while Peter obliged, “are you sure this is gonna work?” Her voice was gentle yet stern, as if trying to soften a blow or stop someone from doing something stupid. It was hard to tell which one.

“It’s worth a try,” Tony replied.

Peter lay down into his body, but there was nothing. He could’ve just as well laid down on the ground. There was no uncomfortable feeling like with Nat, now heat spread from a living body. Nothing. He tried to connect, but there was nothing to connect to, all the links were dead. 404, not found. He could cry.

He sat up again, leaving his body on the sheets, much to everyone’s disappointment. “Do you think you could try again?” Tony asked, the hope in his voice almost unbearable. He was set on this, and there was nothing that could make him veer from this path.

“No,” Peter sighed, “I’m sorry. There’s just… nothing,” he explained.

“I’m going to contact Doctor Strange,” Natasha announced with a new-found determination. She briefly squeezed Mr. Stark’s shoulder before leaving.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said again, only to be intervened by Mr. Stark.

“No. No, kid. It’s okay. We’re gonna find something that works. And if not… Well, then, at least you're still here in this form.” Peter nodded, looking up at the tired and red eyes of his mentor. “And no ‘if this ever happens again.’ Because if this ever happens again, I’m gonna kill you myself. Or worse, I’m gonna call your aunt.”

Peter blinked. “You haven’t called May?”

Tony’s eyes found the side of the bed. “No,” he sighed heavily, “I wanted her to find out from me, but I— I just couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.” Peter could hear the tears in his breaths.

“How long?” he asked.

“A few— a few hours.”

Peter nodded. Then, he drew Mr. Stark’s attention by waving his hand where he stared at. “Well, good news is, you’ve still got me around to annoy you.”

Tony let out a broken laugh, but there was love in it. “God, kid, one day you’re gonna be the death of me.” It was a rupture in the small comfort they’d found. Tony on the ground, bleeding out, his helpless hands stupidly shaking as they tried to stop the flow. It was too late though. The light had already left his eyes. There was no going back. The teen tensed, staring up with big, unseeing, startled eyes; almost dead, or just hanging barely onto life. No. His father, Richard; Ben; not Tony, too. He knew it was meant as a joke, but the image wouldn’t leave his mind. He knew how close death was, how it hit when you least expected it. Hell, he was dead, right at this very moment.

Tony seemed to sense his kid’s distress because he began apologizing. “No, kid, I’m sorry. God, this was stupid, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t meant it, Peter—”

It was a drowning noise in his ears. No, no, no. He had just become real again, he didn’t want to go back to the dream, to the fading realm where he was all alone. Where Tony mourned him. Where he couldn’t protect him, only watch without understanding. “Don’t die, please?” his voice was suddenly that of a scared kid — high-pitched and teary. He swallowed a sob. “Promise me?”

“Well, everybody’s gotta die at some point, nothing’s immortal—,” Tony started with a sigh, but at the sight of his kid’s big, pleading puppy eyes, he stopped. “I promise,” he assured him. Anything for this kid.

tag list: (let me know if you wanna be added/removed!) @starrynightdeancas @spookyscarykittycat @sherlockwhomentalist @lost-lunar-wolf @aixabi @peter-is-a-bean

#irondad #Whumpay2021 #ghost peter parker #tony stark #spidermom #natasha romanoff

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bonktime · 3 years

Text

Weather the Storm

Chapter One - Taken Aback

Ezra (Prospect) x f!reader (no y/n) 1861 Lighthouse au

Written in the third person, so I guess you could say Ezra x OC? but she isn’t physically described or named at any point

Rated: E (just the whole story)

Prologue - Lay of the Land // Masterlist // Chapter Two: Hand Over Fist

Ezra travelled with the tides, let the sea carry him where it willed and never stayed long. The lighthouse keeper was the opposite. Where he moved she stood firm, defying the waves and the tide as if carved from the cliff herself. They’re drawn together, but opposing forces so strong are always destined to cause a storm.

Summary: In search of a place to stay Ezra meets the Lighthouse Keeper. Stuck together for the night by the tide she must quickly work out whether she can trust him enough to let him stay.

Warnings: Language, a lil violence, an even liler bit of sexual tension, some victorian sexism (smut will come)

Wordcount: 3700

Note: Thanks to @danniburgh who I throw ideas at left right and centre to figure stuff out! Turns out I can’t write short things? Either way I’m glad I decided to chapter this so I didn’t go totally bananas. Next one should be up in a week! Prepare for yearning.

~~~~~~~~~

Spring was doing what spring always did by the sea. Vehemently refusing to start. Sometimes a crack in the clouds let a beat of sun through warming the lighthouse keeper's skin and for just a second teased what could be. But as ever, it shyly retreated back behind the grey.

Unable to rest until dawn broke and tinted the sky pink, she had slept through most of the day. When she finally shook off the exhaustion from work the night before, there had been just enough blue in the sky to make a sailor a pair of trousers, enough to entice her into moving. So, she had thrown on her chemise for some illusion of modesty, not that anyone could see her, and gone for a swim.

Bracing was one word for it, fucking baltic was more appropriate. There was nothing quite like it. The way it made her heart pound, made her gasp as she swam, circling the small island, it made her feel alive. There was always a risk of a current pulling her out, a risk she knew all too well. But she knew the water, knew every dip and whirlpool well enough to recognise when they should be avoided. Keeping an eye on the sun she let the incoming tide tug her gently back to the shoreline. In only a few hours she'd have to ascend the steps and light the light.

From her position in the water, she spotted a figure, wading across the causeway, getting pulled to and fro by the tug of the tides, but determinedly heading for the island. She'd let the captain of The Mistress know her room was available a couple days ago and he hadn't sent trouble her way so far. Even so a jolt of unease struck at the thought of being trapped with the stranger until the sea went out. The little rowing boat wouldn't be much good with the storm that was now threatening to roll in. Cursing quietly to herself and suddenly very grateful she’d thrown on even a thin layer, she struck out towards him.

Clambering inelegantly back into the rocks she stood to watch him. He hadn't seen her yet, too focused on keeping his possessions dry, giving her the opportunity to take him in. From this distance she couldn't see his features but his broad shoulders and lean body were a good sign he had experience with trying work, and she could make out a bright shock of white in the crown of his hair. That was more curious, she wondered if he'd been born with it or if he'd suffered such a fright, it'd left a mark. That seemed like a rude thing to ask on a first meeting so she brushed the question aside and headed towards him, carefully stepping over the rock pools and avoiding slipping on the seaweed.

⧫⧫⧫

The first thing Ezra noticed about the woman heading towards him was the fact she appeared to only be wearing her undergarments. The next was that she was soaking wet from stem to stern. Had he been a better man, he might have looked away. Instead, he blatantly stared, the liquid made the cloth cling to her body, damn near rendering it transparent. As she got close, he watched a droplet make its way down her throat, following it with his eyes, he swallowed thickly.

Up close she could see his coat was clearly well made and had probably been expensive but it was old and in desperate need of being rewaxed. Perhaps it had been a gift? Hopefully it had not been stolen. The thin scar curving across his cheek would probably give fair warning to most, but his eyes were soft and wide. He just spelt trouble for her.

"Shut your gob, the wind'll change and you'll get stuck like that."

At that Ezra closed his mouth quickly and pulled himself together, finally focusing on her face. She was waiting for him to speak, clearly sizing him up "Could you possibly direct me towards the lighthouse keeper?"

She noted his strange accent but couldn't stop rolling her eyes, no one ever expected her. "That depends on who's asking"

"Captain Williams suggested I could find respite here whilst I work his ship."

She frowned at him, “What’s your name?”

“I’m Ezra, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I humbly apologise if I interrupted your swim.” again Ezra felt himself be judged, but apparently, she deemed him enough for now and nodded.

"Come on then or we'll both catch cold" she turned to climb the steps to the cottages with him following behind.

The small kitchen was warm, heated by a small arger, she moved a kettle onto its plate and tossed in a log. With a deep sigh she turned to him, biting the inside of her cheek to stop grinning at his bemused expression. "I'm going to dress; you should get out of your wet clothes too. Don't let the kettle boil dry, I'll make a cuppa, then we can talk." With that she left him dripping in the rough wooden floor.

Ezra decided then that whatever she was, she certainly wasn't grey. But she wasn't colour either, she was something else entirely. Something he couldn't recognise. It stirred something in him, an urge to uncover what lay beneath, like cracking a rock and discovering a beautiful gem. Naturally, it stirred something in his trousers too, but, he reckoned, seeing any woman wet and nearly naked would do that. Ignoring it, he tugged off his boots and trews and pulled on his spares before going to lean on the oven to warm up, feet still bare.

Just as the kettle boiled and he was closing the hot plate she reappeared, rolling her sleeves of her dark blue woolen dress up to the elbow and hanging her soaked chemise over the arger before stretching up to pull a teapot and cups out of a cupboard next to a little window.

"This is quite a place you have here, and what a view.” He looked out the window, reaching up to the wind chime made from sea glass, worn matte from the sand that hung there. He touched the smoothed edges of the glass, it felt rough on his fingers. “I'll wager it’s quite something to awaken and be able to see water on all sides without feeling the rocking of a ship beneath you." As far as Ezra could tell, it was as if he wasn't there. The woman moved around him locating loose tea and milk as if completing a ritual, never one to be discouraged from talking he continued, "Course once you get used to it, I imagine you barely notice it. But for me, having been on the waves themselves for the past weeks, it will be quite an adjustment." He looked at the two cups. "Is your husband not joining us?"

She didn't turn around, "He will not."

"Your father then? Although I am surprised a lovely thing like yourself is not betrothed. Promised perhaps?"

"No." He wasn't sure which question she had answered at first, it dawned slowly that it had in fact been both. He nearly smacked himself in the forehead.

"You wouldn't happen to be the keeper, would you?"

She turned to him then, eyebrows raised "I think perhaps you worked it out the fastest, I once strung a poor young man along for a week before he realised, I lit the light."

Ezra wasn't really one to be shocked by much, and after her appearance on the rocks this wasn't too much of a revelation, so now with her full attention he continued to talk.

"I'd wonder it doesn't get lonely though, on this rock all by oneself would be mighty isolating. Almost no one around for company except the sea and the rocks. Perhaps that's why you rent the room? That or your expenses are far higher than I'd expect" he forced himself to stop as she placed the tea and a biscuit tin on the little table and turned back to glare at him

"Why are you here?" That made him blink, halting his thread of thoughts

"I'm here to rent a room. Did I not make that explicit? I do apologise"

She waved him off "No. I know why you're here. Why are you in this place? Work sure, but work can be found anywhere, especially on the water. Work less dangerous, with better weather. Were you bored and thought it romantic?" She was stepping towards him "Are you desperate?” A step. “Do you like taking risks?" Another step "Are you running from something?" She was right in front of him then, looking up at his face "So, I'll ask again. Why are you here?" For a split-second Ezra felt frozen in her gaze but then she reached around him as grabbed his soggy trousers, turning away to hang them alongside her chemise on the airer.

He blinked and shook himself. "I wanted to see it, to work it. The dead sea. Conquer it in my own way.To continue my own adventure somewhere new." She hummed in response picking up her cup and watching him. "And what of you? All alone on this rock. Seems you're a risk taker yourself. Most people would frown upon a woman welcoming a single man into her home, it implies things. Not to mention anything could happen to you,” He couldn't help himself, his voice lowered, unable to back down from the challenge she'd given him. The implication of his crimes. “Anything at all and no one around to save you."

In a split second she'd moved, pulling a blade, he hadn't even thought to look for, out from a sheath under her apron and had it pressed against his jugular.

"A bit of risk? You needn't worry for me." her steady hand pressed firmly enough the knife nicked into his flesh "But you? You know no one here. If you die no one will notice, no one will care. No one will even think to look for your body, let alone find it." He couldn’t hold back the grin as she stepped back, inspecting the drop of blood on the blade, cup of tea still in hand. "5 shillings a week for the room and food, first payment up front, the rest when you're paid."

Well, this was surprising. Such a spark, truly tough enough to stand against an ocean. "Sounds perfect."

Finally, she cracked the smallest smile and Ezra felt as if the sun had found a fissure in the clouds. "I'll make food, I'm working tonight so it'll be breakfast for me and dinner for you, then you can settle in. When do you start on The Mistress?"

"Two days' time, should be quite an experience." He thought of the heavy clouds.

"Well make sure you don't wake me in the morning tomorrow or your stay will be very short." She wiped the drop of blood off the knife and stowed it away again. Ezra wondered what else was hidden under that apron and why he hadn’t even thought she might have the sense to be armed. He chastised himself.

"Do you man the light alone? It seems prudent you don’t have to remain awake every night."

"5 days to three, I take an extra shift, the other keeper has a house in the mainland so he spends all the time he can there. I expect it won't be long until you're sick of the sight of me."

"Oh, I doubt that, not when you're so full of surprises. Why do you rent the room, with an extra shift surely you don't need the money?”

"I don't get paid that shift," Ezra waited for her to elaborate but she didn’t. "I" she let out a laugh "Mostly I rent the room so I can buy books, something to do whilst I work. Plus, I like the company. Get to meet new people from all over for a few months and I still get to have the whole winter to myself. It's lonely as you said, sure, but I like being alone. I'm good at it."

There was a wildness in Ezra that she couldn't seem to pinpoint. Something about the reckless grin when she's threatened him, the fearlessness. It was what compelled her to let him stay. It drew her in like the pull of the moon. To welcome in such a force of nature, made her doubt her own judgment.

"I'll expect you to help plant and harvest the vegetables when the time comes." As she spoke, she moved around the kitchen throwing together the meal as quickly as she could before the sun began to dip.

Supper was simple, just a stottie with a couple eggs and vegetables. She'll have to go into town soon and see if she could get some meat cuts. But he didn't complain. Just talked continuously, complimented her cooking whilst watching her every move not unlike one might watch an animal in a zoo. It was a little unsettling and it made her feel very glad she was going to be awake all night, not letting herself be vulnerable to him at least for a few more hours.

"Will I need to be expecting guests? Women? Men? Either way I'd rather be warned beforehand." Her upfront way of talking made Ezra chuckle.

"I cannot be sure yet but I'll endeavour to let you know should I be taken by someone. And what of you? Must I prepare for being kept awake in the night by men, women or otherwise?"

She just shrugged, "I doubt it, I'm not the most popular around here at the best of times"

"That wouldn't have anything to do with your working and welcoming in strangers, would it? Are the people here so closed minded?" He smirked at the notion of the scandal that probably followed her.

"Not all of them, just those with power. I am at odds with the vicar because I sleep most Sundays and keep defying the lord's will for me"

"How cruel of you." His tone was laced in so much sarcasm it made her relax a little. At least she wouldn't have to face his judgement and sly glares for a summer.

Still, it was very strange for a woman to hold this job. “I am compelled to ask if you have ever been married?”

A look crossed her face, of pain, and of something else he didn't know. Just there for a flash and then swept away, like writing in the sand. She ignored the question. “Pay up and I'll show you your room, you can get settled and sleep off your journey. I'll imagine you're tired.”

He handed her the coins and followed her through the door and up the rickety staircase. There were two doors, one slightly ajar. The glimpse inside revealed just the end of a bed and a bookshelf but all too quickly, she opened the other door and ushered him in. Inside was cosy, or possibly just small. The bed was heavily laden with blankets which appeared to be handmade, it sat opposite a chest of drawers and a chair.

She crouched to light the fire, “Hopefully you won't need it all season but you definitely will tonight. I don't know how hardy you are against the cold.”

“Not as hardy as you I'd expect. I had the blessing of spending most of the winter months far south, so far south ice couldn't possibly be conceived”

The flame sparked in front of her, flickering around the room. "The sun is setting; I'll leave you to it. If there's an emergency I'll be in the tower. Try to stay quiet tomorrow. I'd like to actually get some sleep."

He opened his mouth to respond but she was already out the door, with a huff he sat down on the bed and opened his satchel to begin unpacking. When he was done, he stripped down, folded his clothes and placed them on the chair and curled underneath the blankets. The orange glow of the fire lit the room as the crash of the waves lulled him to sleep far quicker than usual.

⧫⧫⧫

It turned out the storm's threats had been for naught. The sky didn't break and the rain didn't come. Instead, after winding up the rotation system she enjoyed the peace and quiet, sitting back with a book only needing to move every hour to fill the sock over the paraffin with air. She was reading an old favourite, ‘Pride and Prejudice’. Mr Bennett reminded her of her father, all quick wit and dry humour. It made her laugh even as her heart ached for the loss. He used to say she was too much like Elizabeth for her own good. Hot headed and stubborn and determined, perhaps if he saw her now, he'd disagree. Be made sad by how the world had wearied her, wonder when her ability to find easy joy had gotten misplaced. But it had been dragged out to sea along with him, never to be found.

The night passed quietly and slowly. But every quiet night was a relief, to be bored, by this sea, was a blessing.

⧫⧫⧫

He awoke early, before the sun had even considered peeking over the horizon and stretched. Looking out of the window he saw the ocean was black, just the flash of the lighthouse illuminating it every few seconds. Tugging on his shirt he placed another log on the fire and picked up his leather-bound journal, an intimate document of his travels, reading the last page. Written on the boat in the cold it didn't give the most flattering depiction of the view of the village from the water. He chuckled to himself, light beginning to peek through the thin curtain as he continued to write his tale, it had its highlights. The appearance of the lighthouse keeper was one, approaching nearly naked and wet from the waves made quite the first impression. He wondered vaguely if even his ridiculous vocabulary could do it justice. The spark, the last stand against the sea, that damn near see-through chemise- he sighed to himself, that was going to haunt him.

The front door slammed shut and he heard a short curse, cut off by the sound of the keeper running up the stairs. Incurably curious, he put the journal aside and headed onto the small landing, dressed only in his long cream shirt. She had already disappeared into her room but as he stepped out, he stood directly onto a wet patch on the floor. Looking down he spotted the wet footprints. Clearly, she had striven to swim before he awoke for some discretion.

Unfortunately for her, Ezra's self-control had always run a little thin and there was no stopping him knocking on her door. It cracked open a little, her head poking out, body held to the side hidden behind the door. He grinned as her eyes widened for a second at his state of undress.

"What do you want? I'll make food in a minute"

Her statement was so concise he almost laughed. As if he had any real excuse to bother her. "It appears I have the day to myself, and with your need to rest I find myself in dire need of stimulation," an eyebrow rose at that, "Perchance could I borrow a novel? You implied ownership of quite the collection."

She pursed her lips at him and shut the door. He blinked, not expecting her just to brush him off and stood dumbstruck for a second. It was not often he was so rudely ignored. And then, even more to his surprise the door cracked open and a hand appeared. A hand clasping a book. He continued to blink at it.

"Do you want it or not? You're letting in a terrible draft." So, he took it and the door shut again. Totally baffled, he returned to his room looking at the cover. ‘Pride and Prejudice’, an old favourite.

A short while later a shout alerted Ezra to food and he chatted happily to the keeper who again appeared to be ignoring him as she hunted for bowels and pulled a dish out from the arger where it had been heating.

"I haven't had the pleasure of Jane Austen's writing for quite some time. Not since my book was cruelly stolen from me, along with several other possessions and my bag, just as I arrived in the beautiful port of Genova in northern Italy. Quite a place." He let himself trail off, expecting her to shut down his monologue or continue to ignore him.

Instead, she handed him his food, some fish pie, and sat down. "What's Genova like? I haven't been."

His face cracked into an easy grin as she watched, clearly thrilled to have her participation in the conversation even a little and he continued to talk until she yawned heavily and sloped away to sleep.

⧫⧫⧫

His day was quiet. He read, walked round the island, was delighted to see seals flopping around on the rocks, and wrote. Despite his best efforts, the lighthouse keeper seemed insistent on making herself a central character, even if she'd only been around for a few pages. Something about the woman watching the sea had captured his imagination. He wondered how she came to man the light, why she was alone, why she took him in. She had seemed far too clever to let him stay. Of all people, she should have had the sense to turn him away. Naturally, he was glad she hadn't but even so it was strange. He thought on all the trouble he'd found himself in, often of his own creation. She could very possibly become the worst of it.

⧫⧫⧫

Upstairs she tossed and turned. No idea why she'd let him stay. Maybe the loneliness had finally taken her sense. That evening, they ate together again. He talked seemingly endlessly but smoothly evaded her pointed questions about where he got his accent and why he really wanted to work the North Sea. It was amicable, but also impersonal, both still trying to gage the other well, before they could become totally comfortable. As she left to work, she told him to stay safe on the sea.

When day broke and she descended the stairs, he was gone. She hoped he'd survive.

~~~~~~

Glossary

Taken Aback: A boat facing the wind directly so no sails can catch the wind, basically just a bad pun

Enough blue in the sky to make a sailor a pair of trousers: A teeny tiny amount of blue

Baltic: Geordie phrase meaning freezing cold, I dunno where it comes from, baltic sea maybe?

From stem to stern: from top to bottom of a ship

Arger: Cast iron oven, in this age it would have had a fire in the bottom with two ovens, a hot one above and a cooler to the side along with a stove/hot plate on top.

Stottie: Geordie bread bun

~~~~~

Ezra Taglist

@fandom-blackhole

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect 2018 #ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra x oc #prospect 2018 #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect au #ezra prospect victorian au #lighthouse au #prospect 2018 fanfiction #ezra prospect fanfiction #prospect au #prospect 2018 au #pedro pascal

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mairalynnwrites · 3 years

Text

The 5 Times Johanna Mason Thought She Met Her Soulmate and the 1 Time She Was Sure Of It

The first time Johanna Mason met her soulmate, she was being sent to her death. It was a glance as she walked to her place in line for interviews. A glance at an older mentor, a handsome man whom she recognized from the gossip she had heard about him from the moment she got on the train. Finnick Odair, walking sex on legs, according to the capital. She groaned a little in the back of her throat. Of course she would meet her damn soulmate just before she died. And of course he had to be the prostitute of the capital. What was odd was that she did not see the flashing colors her childhood friends had described to her, merely shades of brown. That meant that this could be some sort of mistake, right?

Their eyes locked, and she noticed that she still couldn’t make out the color of his eyes. Odair’s back turned to her, saying a few words to his tributes before marching straight past her and out the door. Asshole. The second time Johanna Mason met her soulmate was after she had won her games, covered in the blood of more people than she wished to count. When she came back to after being healed in the hovercraft, he was sitting in the corner of the room.

“How’re you feeling?” He asked, standing and put his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

“You’re not my mentor”

“Duly noted,” He smiled a wry grin before continuing. “I pulled a few strings with your mentor, she’s waiting for you on the ground, no worries.”

“Oh, so you slept with her?” Johanna raised her eyebrows, her lips pulling into a smirk.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business” He noted, making sure the door was closed. Her hackles rose, and she stiffened on the bed she was sitting in, survival instincts more present than ever. He put his hands up as if to placate her, saying “There’s no lock, if you want to leave, you will have no difficulties from me, I just thought you might prefer to have this discussion in private.”

“What, you think that since I’m your soulmate, I’m just going to jump your bones?” Her eyes searched the tables near her, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon by or against her. He said that he meant no harm, but so had a lot of people in her life, and that sentence never ended up being true.

Odair chuckled under his breath, moving to sit on the end of her bed, his hands still raised to the sides of his head. “No. As my soulmate, there’s some things you should know, before you accidentally say anything in front of the people.” He moved even closer to her, and motioned to a scalpel that had been accidentally left on the table beside her by the people who healed her. “Grab it. It will make you feel safe and we need to be as close and quiet as possible in order to not be overheard on cameras” He whispered, moving his upper body closer to her as she hurriedly grabbed the scalpel next to her, holding it against his throat in silent saying of ‘don’t get any closer’.

He took a long breath, looking out the partially obscured window. “You can’t say anything about us being soulmates. You have to know, I’m not a capital prostitute by choice. You know better than anyone else that the capital is willing to do everything in their power to keep people controlled.”

She did know. She had just killed children, of course she knew. But there was something glinting in his eyes as he watched warily out the window, a bead of blood rising on his neck from where the scalpel was pressed to it. Oh. They had threatened him in some way. That’s what he meant. Then why did he say that- “You don’t mean that he’s going to want me to fuck half the Capitol.” She whispered to him, her eyes widening.

“You can’t tell anyone or they’ll kill us both. He sees the same thing in you he saw in me. Please.” His eyes looked back at hers, his voice dipping on the last word, ending in a silent plea.

“I just won these damn games and now you’re telling me I have no choice but to become a prostitute?” She glared at him, careful not to raise her voice as much as she wanted to.

“He’ll give you an ultimatum. Your life or your family’s. It’s just an illusion of a choice. But I’m not here to tell you what to do. I’m here to tell you that you need to say that you need to say that you can’t see any color. You’ve never met your soulmate. I came here to talk to you about what is expected from you as a victor if anyone asks.”

“God, this is such bullshit” She whispered, a small tear slipping down her cheek. He reached up and wiped it with his thumb, the scalpel still against his throat. Though she had no intention of using it, it felt good to have a defense against the older man.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He put his forehead against hers, and for once in her life, she felt still.

The third time Johanna Mason met her soulmate, she was once again being sent to her death, but with a plan this time. Although technically her and Finnick had talked briefly over the years, they had never discussed their situation, never discussed the feeling in their chests the longer they were apart from each other. Johanna’s family was dead, and she wasn’t willing to let the Capitol kill her soulmate too. The first night at the tribute building was haunting. She took to the roof, the cold air waking her. For a moment she entertained the thought of jumping, but she knew the Capitol would never let a tribute kill themselves. Where was the entertainment in that?

She didn’t even hear the boots walk up behind her. Damn it, she was so distracted by her thoughts she completely missed Odair walking up beside her. “Before my games I almost tried to kill myself by jumping off this building.” He said, a lilt in his voice. “I suppose it’s good I didn’t in a way, I did get to meet my soulmate after all.” He said with a smile evident in his voice, nudging his shoulder against hers, sending shocks from where he touched her.

“Damn, Odair, I didn’t know we were that close” She snarked, but with a smile on her face. Somehow, even with the possibility that she could die in the next few days, it was hard to be upset around Finnick.

“I’ve got a question for you, Mason.” He teased, leaning against the railing, facing her. “Did you really strip in the elevator in front of Haymitch, of all people?”

“Did you see my dress? It was hideous. I simply couldn’t stand to be in it anymore.” Her eyebrows raised, a small chuckle easing past her lips. “I’m surprised that you didn’t do the same, that net sure didn’t look comfortable.”

Finnick groaned, “Don’t remind me.” She laughed, the first time in a long time that she actually meant it. “Wow, if I knew that my misery caused you to laugh like that, I should have made myself miserable earlier.”

“Are there cameras on the roof, Mr. Secrets?” Johanna asked, taking a step closer to him.

“No. We aren’t supposed to be up here.” He replied, glancing around to make sure of his statement.

“Good.”

Her lips were on his. She didn’t care that she could die in a few days. Didn’t care that she was risking her life for a whiny District 12 girl. She only felt.

The fourth time Johanna Mason met her soulmate, she had barely made it onto the hovercraft in time to be rescued. Finnick was waiting in the main room, and without even thinking about it, she started running. She had just seen him minutes ago, but she was so full of relief that he had made it, that he wasn’t dead or captured, that she kissed him. Right there in the middle of the hovercraft, not even caring that Plutarch and Katniss’ other boy toy were trying to have a conversation. She placed a hand on his cheek, smoothing her thumb over the scabbed up cut on his face.

“We’re okay.” She whispered, for once allowing herself to be vulnerable.

“For now.” He whispered back, his own hands coming up to cradle her face.

“We can do this. She can do this.” Johanna whispered, saying what they both knew to be true.

The fifth time Johanna Mason met her soulmate was when they were gathering to leave for the capitol. She reached her hand out to his, grasping two of her fingers in her own. “If we both make it out of there in one piece, I’ll marry your sorry ass.” She said, trying to use sarcasm to cover her fear. It didn’t work.

“When we make it out of there, we will have the biggest wedding the world has ever seen.” He said, emphasizing the first word.

“I’ll make Annie my bridesmaid, I think.” She could barely say the words now. Her fear overtook her.

“She’d like that. You think Betee would mind being my groomsman?” He questioned, a smile in his voice.

She laughed sharply. “We really do love the crazies, don’t we?”

“Crazy attracts crazy, love.” He told her, taking her hands in his, noticing that they were both slightly shaking. “I love you. When we make it out of there, I promise I’ll never let anything get in our way again. We waited so long to have our share of happiness. We deserve a lifetime of peace.”

“Peace sounds nice.” She sniffed, trying and failing to stop her tears from falling. “And I love you too, I have for a while now.

“I know.”

The one time Johanna Mason was sure she had met her soulmate was in the capitol sewers, watching as her soulmate was being eaten alive by mutant beasts. “Katniss, you know what you need to do” She said, not being able to take her eyes off of Finnick's body. She listened to the quiet whispers of Nightlock and watched as her soulmate was granted a quick death, instead of a torturous death.

Her colors faded.

The world was black and white again.

#Johanna x Finnick #Johanna Mason #Finnick Odair #Johanna Mason x Finnick Odair #Hunger Games #The Hunger Games #Katniss Everdeen #Peeta Mellark

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 4 years

Note

Nsfw alphabet (all of it) for Loki? Also, l love ur star wars ocs 💕

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He praises you to high heaven after sex. His words come low and soft as he cleans up you telling you, in so many different way, how perfect you are. His silver tongue doesn’t stumble once.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your neck. It’s so easy to tease you with just a simple brush of his lips against that particular part of your skin. An open canvas for him bite and mark as he wishes. And it’s the perfect fit for his hand to squeeze as he fucks you.

As for himself, he likes his hands. He knows you appreciate the length and dexterity of his fingers. Not to mention it’s where most of his true power resides. They are magic hands, after all. ;)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He leaves such a mess when he cums. He loves cumming all over your skin; stomach, back, face, tits, it doesn’t matter. It’s his way of marking you. He’ll even take his fingers like a brush and paint it all over your body.

Even when he cums inside you, he still manages to leave his mark. He’ll spread you open, watching in fascination as a mix of your cum and his own drip down your inner thigh. He likes to take his fingers then, and spread is down your skin before licking it with his tongue. He’s a complete slut when it comes to cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn’t have many to be honest. He’s very open about what he wants with you. After a thousands years or so, you learn that there’s no shame in sharing with someone you trust.

But, there have been a few instances he’s has to keep himself from moaning “mommy”. He’s not sure where it came from and that’s one kink he’s does not want to explore.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Thor might be more bombastic, but Loki has perfected the art of whispering into an ear and making the hearer weak at the knees. So yes, he’s been around the block a few times with a variety of partners.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It really depends on his mood.

If he’s in a dominating mood then he loves taking you from behind, your back pressed against his chest and his hand clasped around your throat.

If he wants to be dominated, then please tie his wrists to the bedpost and ride his face. He wants your cum.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He runs the gambit from emotional and intense to a sexy, but fun romp in the hay. There are moments he can’t help, but make a joke or a smug comment at your expense. It keeps things unpredictable.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He actually keeps up a pretty close shaved down there. Not that there was much there in the first place. Perhaps the first hint he wasn’t Asgardian.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As I said before, he runs a wide range of emotions when you’re fucking.

But, when he is in the mood or his emotions become too overwhelming, he can be extremely intimate. Sometimes it’s praises as he makes love to you, wondering how he could be so lucky. Other times it’s desperate and pleading, clinging to your body and begging you not to leave.

And then there are days he just wants to have a bit of fun.

You’re never too sure what you’re going to get on an given day.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Not as often as you’d think. If he’s in the mood, he prides himself on being able to find a partner to satisfy him. Using his own hand feels childish and a little embarrassing. So, he won’t do it unless he’s really desperate.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

God, it would be easy to lists the stuff he isn’t into.

First and foremost, he’s 110% a switch. Yes he’s got mad Big Dick Daddy Dom energy when he wants to and there are a number of fantasies he has that involve tying you up and using you as his personal fuck toy.

But if you’re telling me this same disaster theater nerd twink doesn’t also allow his partners to peg him on the reg, then you are dead wrong.

That all being said, I’d also like to add exhibitionism to the list. There are times you swear he wants to get caught when he fucks you against the bookshelves in the library, or in the gardens or even against the one of the pillars in the palace. If it weren’t for his illusions, you might have.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The most common place is your bedroom. That’s where you can pull out all the stops and really take your time.

But as I said above, he does take a certain thrill out of almost being caught. If he were being honest, he’s say the library was near the top of his favorite places to fuck.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Assertiveness is certainly top of the list. Knowing that you want him and no one else, combined with your confidence can lead him pleading at your feet.

Jealousy is also a motivator. If he sees another man trying to move in on you, that’s his cue to pull you into the nearest empty room and fuck you senseless. Alternatively, if he sees you getting jealous of someone hitting on him, then he’ll pull you aside and show you in every way he can that he is yours.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Infanalization, or really any age play where either of you is expected to act like a child. It’s insulting to him for one thing, since he can take some sexual humiliation, but he draws the line at not being at least considered a man.

As for you, he wants to be with an adult plain and simple. He finds it tedious and insipid otherwise.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Again, split right down the middle. There are nights that all he wants to do is tie your wrists to the bed posts as he buries himself between your legs, making you cum and cum again on his tongue until you can’t move.

Other times, he wants to pull your hair and fuck your face, making you take every inch of him before cumming down your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Leans more towards the fast and rough, averaging at about 65% of the time. But for the other 35%, he takes his sweet time.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes and please. Preferably during a ball or some other formal event where he fucks you in an empty corridor before eventually rejoining the party like nothing happened.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

All the time. He’ll trying anything once.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s usually good for one to three rounds. But those rounds can last anywhere from 15 minutes a piece or a full hour depending on why you’re doing. So, stamina is never an issue.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

A whole trunk full. Like I said, he’ll try anything once.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

All the god damn time. If a party is particularly dull, he’ll spend the whole night teasing you. It’s a game to see how fast he can make you break.

There have been times he’s teased you right to the edge only to leave you tied to the bed and aching for hours before finishing the job.

And don’t even get me started on him trying to make you jealous of purpose. He’s such a drama queen.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He can be quiet if he really needs to be. If you’re having sex in a semi-public space he at least has the sense to keep it to himself; grunting and whispering dirty words against your skin.

When you’re in private however, all bets are off. He runs his mouth, he moans, he growls, and he curses like it’s going out of style.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He can talk a big game with one night stands, but his favorite kind of sex is with a consistent partner. He wants to be desired, but more than that, he wants to be chosen and chosen consistently. Having one person there every day choosing to be with him is everything.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not an overly thick or heavy cock, but certainly longer than average and it’s width proportional to his size. A nice, pretty seven inch dick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s strange, but when it’s just him and one night stands, his sex drive isn’t insane. He’s not going to get a head ache if he doesn’t have sex and dry spells don’t bother him as much.

But when he’s actually in a relationship, his sex drive is off the charts. I think he ultimately like the idea of someone wanting and choosing him consistently. It’s one of his biggest turn ons. So, you guys are having sex at least every other night.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while to doze off. He likes to make sure you comfortable and clean. He’ll massage your muscles if you need it and talk the night away. He doesn’t want to miss a moment if he can help it.

#loki #loki x reader #loki odinson #loki odinson x reader #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #lemon

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Christmas Eve - ep. 07 - Georgia

Summary: Christmas in King County and a hint at what lies behind the All-American girl persona that you wear.

A/N: Hope you guys are enjoying the rewrite so far!

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

Christmas Eve in King County, like everything else, was marked by the church. There was the Christmas Eve midnight service that Hershel led, the living nativity set up in the middle of the square, for the days leading up to Christmas, and, of course, Annette’s Christmas Eve dinner at the farm for all the church congregation to gather together. It was more of an open house and you always ended up ‘working it’ though it was really just a glorified dinner, no need for servers and no one got paid for the shift.

“Are you busy on Thursday?” You asked the question innocently, leaving out the part where Thursday was also Christmas Eve.

“Dunno,” Daryl shrugged, wiping his hands on the rag hanging out of his pocket as he turned to face you. A welcome distraction, having you around had prolonged the work that Daryl could’ve easily completed in two months. He was always stopping and starting when you came over though, more interested in you than in the car. Before he might’ve denied it but after Thanksgiving, he knew it was true, Rick had been right about him having feelings for someone. It wasn’t something he was used to but it was something.

“It’s Christmas Eve.”

“I got a calendar.” He replied, smiling when you pouted at him.

“Well if you’re calendar isn’t too booked maybe you’d come to the dinner Annette’s having at the Greene farm?” You replied, “it’s always a lot of fun.”

“Wouldn’t know, ain’t never been invited to it before.”

“I’m inviting you now.”

“Dunno,” he walked the short distance to the fridge and grabbed a beer out, “I’m not exactly a participating member of the community.”

“Dale will be there,” you offered, skimming over his last sentence. You knew he wasn’t anyone’s favorite person and you’d heard a good deal of Dixon stories from everyone who had heard that you were getting your car fixed by Daryl but that hadn’t dampened your opinion. Just because a bunch of people thought they knew him didn’t mean they did. “I’ll be there.”

“Ya want me ta spend Christmas Eve listening ta yer yammering on?” Daryl asked. You caught the hint of a smile and you knew he wasn’t as opposed to the idea as he was saying.

“Maybe...beats me showing up here to interrupt your night.”

“So you asked him to come to Christmas Eve dinner?” Maggie asked, standing beside the wooden structure meant to represent the manger, white and blue cloths and headdress covering her jeans and thermal shirt. It was chillier than either of you would’ve liked tonight.

“Yeah, thought it’d be nice, he’s never been.” You pointed out. You had been sent over with thermoses of hot chocolate and cups for the manger volunteers, standing a short way off so that you didn’t ‘break the illusion’.

“I highly doubt that Patty sent you over here to chitchat. You girls need to be better stewards of your time and your tongues.” Jacqui called, beckoning Maggie over as she spoke. You frowned, watching as Maggie rejoined the nativity cast. You weren’t a fan of King County’s holiest member of the community or her perception that she was better than everyone else.

Jacqui was a central member of the church, a ward against gossip though she had a tongue for it herself, and a general know-it-all. She had been managing the 7-11 in town since the owner had franchised his small business to them, before you were even born. She even rented the house that sat just to the left. There was a picture of the original business hanging behind the counter at the 7-11, the house with two gas pumps in front of it, an older man and his wife standing on the porch. Somehow all that deemed Jacqui a sort of unspoken ‘elder’ member of the community. A gossip but an important voice in the town. On par with Patricia, Annette, and Hershel though she was younger.

Her voice was important to everyone but you.

“I heard you were in again the other day with that Dixon fella, buying cigarettes.” She mentioned when she came over, claiming to want some hot chocolate.

“The cigarettes were his, I don’t smoke,” you replied, watching the nativity scene. Having a job this Christmas had saved you from having to participate with all the rest of the youth group and you were more than thankful for that. “Besides, he’s working on my car, like I keep saying.”

“I’d said you’re spending a little too much time in his company. Might not’ve picked up his smoking but you picked up his need for talking-back.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you smiled at her, “sorry Miss Jacqui, didn’t mean anything by it, must be the cold getting to me.”

“Must be.”

When she walked away again to reign in Joseph and a Wise Man you capped the rest of the hot chocolate and left it by the church table that was set up for donations. You weren’t lying about the cold, it was nearing forty at night as it got closer to January. Nothing you liked but you made due as long as you weren’t outside for too long. It was only when Patricia made you do ridiculous things like walk hot chocolate across the street to the living nativity that you really had to brave the weather.

“Oh good you’re back, you got a table. I was gonna take his order but he said he didn’t ‘want nothing yet’ figured he might be waiting for ya.” Amy said, bumping her hip against yours as you took your coat off, whispering and glancing over her shoulder to your section as she spoke.

You looked back, biting your lip to stop the smile on your face at the sight of Daryl sitting there reading over the menu. You grabbed your apron from the rack and tied it around your waist, “I got it, thanks.”

“He’s some trouble ya know.” Amy mentioned.

“He’s Just fixing my car.” You replied and even as you said it you knew it sounded like a lie. You walked over to his table, smiling when he looked up at you.

“Heard ya were bringing hot chocolate ta baby Jesus.” He said, grin in place.

“Yea course, haven’t you read that bit in the bible?” You teased. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Your own hot chocolate?”

“Coffee’s fine.”

“What brings you in?” You asked, hovering at the table, thankful for the slow night.

“Figured yer always showing up ta harass me while I work, ain’t fair I don’t give ya the same treatment.” Daryl replied.

You bit your bottom lip, preparing for a comeback when you heard Patricia call your name from behind the counter. She’d come out of the kitchen to see you standing at Daryl’s table, smiling at him like he just hung the stars and she’d almost had a heart attack. Patricia had seen him come in and had known, the moment he sat himself in your section, that he wasn’t moving anytime soon. She’d listened to you tell her the same story over and over again, that Daryl was fixing the jeep and that as soon as he was done so would your seeing him be.

“I only see him to pay him for the job.”

But Patricia wasn’t some naive young kid who you could pull the wool over. She’d been around the block a time or two and knew exactly what kind of temptations you were wading into hanging around Daryl Dixon.

“I’ll be right back with your coffee.” You promised, turning away from him and walking back to the counter. Patricia looked passed you, eyebrow raised in disdain as she watched Daryl fiddle with his laminated menu.

“Are you out of your damn mind?”

“What?” You asked innocently, “I was talking to a customer.”

“I have half a mind to call your mother and tell her you been hanging around Dixon on your off time.” Patricia said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Patty,” you insisted. If she called your parents then it was over. Your car would be in Woodbury, you would be grounded worse than Maggie could imagine, and you’d likely never see Daryl again.

“You watch yourself, you’re in dangerous territory.”

“He’s just fixing-”

“Your car. I heard.” Patricia replied.

“Can you hand me a coffee?” You asked, changing the subject.

She went to the other side of the counter to grab you a cup of coffee for Daryl while you turned back to look over at him. As if on some cue he looked over at you and you smiled. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck and you caught the faint pink the blossomed over his cheeks.

“One coffee.” Patricia said, setting it down and catching your attention again, “charge him this time.”

“I’ll make sure to get the dollar from him,” you replied, taking the cup and walking back over to Daryl’s table. Patricia shook her head, despite her friendship with your parents and the Greene’s she’d kept plenty of secrets for you and Maggie over the years. She hadn’t told them about Glenn and Maggie dating, she hadn’t told your parents about your tardiness over Thanksgiving or Daryl dropping off the pie plate when you’d claimed you were bringing the apple pie to Tara. She just wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing not telling them you were falling deeper and deeper into something with Daryl.

It was unspoken knowledge the way Will Dixon treated his kids. While Daryl’s mother hadn’t been some innocent girl getting taken advantage of she had loved her kids, Daryl a little more than Merle probably. She’d never hit them but she never stayed sober passed three in the afternoon and Patricia could still remember the senior Mr. Grimes coming in after the fire burned down the old house telling them about Daryl arriving home in time to see the place ablaze.

Losing his mother, watching his brother leave, enduring years of abuse from his father, Patricia couldn’t help but worry that the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree with Daryl. She’d been watching for any sign of abuse on you but she hadn’t seen any. If anything, you seemed happier than you had been in a while and it was that Patricia relied on to make herself feel better about not telling your parents that you were occupying your time with a Dixon.

“Ya working late?” Daryl asked as you idled by his table.

“I’ve got thirty more minutes then I’m free to trudge home in the cold.” You replied, “I’m going to Maggie’s...we’re setting up the barn tomorrow for the Christmas Eve party.”

“Ya need a ride?”

“Do you mind driving Maggie too?”

He shook his head. Daryl had come to the diner tonight just to see you. Aside from going to Dale’s for work or 7-11 for a pack of smokes he didn’t frequent too many places in King County. He was far from an active member in the community but he’d been turning up more often. The diner for one, the Winter Fest where Otis had spied him at the church table talking to you. He’d come tonight because he definitely wasn’t planning on going to the Christmas Eve party dinner that you had invited him to but he did have a present for you. Stupid, he was sure, but a present nonetheless.

You paged Maggie to tell her to meet you at the diner and finished out the rest of your shift while Daryl drank his coffee, paid, and left to smoke out in the parking lot. He was there, toking on a cigarette, when you exited the diner with your backpack.

“I really don’t like closing. I hate having to clean up.” You confessed as you came out to meet him.

“Shifts a shift.” He shrugged and you rolled your eyes at his words. “Here, ‘fore Maggie comes over and I gotta hear the two a ya bitching about the Nativity or something.”

“You don’t have to drive us.” You replied, taking the box wrapped in newspaper that he had handed you, “is this a present? Did you get me a present?”

“Ain’t nothing special...don’t get so excited.” He said, chewing his thumb as you opened the gift he’d bought. Sitting in the little box was a keychain. A leather strap folded over and fastened onto a thin metal plate that attached it to the key hook. The leather was embroidered with clumsy little flowers in yellow with green leaves.

“This is so pretty.” You smiled at Daryl, holding the keychain close as you gave him a one-armed hug.

Daryl tensed and pulled away, huffing as he tried to appear indifferent about the keychain, he’d made himself, “none a that, it ain’t nothing expensive. Just thought ya’d like it.”

“I love it, thank you.”

“I’m here, I’m here.” Maggie’s voice cut through your conversation as she came around the side of the truck, brushing out her hair from being pinned back in Mary’s head covering. Daryl dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out with his boot to distract himself from the blush that had started warming his cheeks when you hugged him. “Hi Daryl.” Maggie greeted.

“Hey,” he nodded to her before heading around to the driver’s side of the truck. You climbed in first, taking the middle seat, while Maggie climbed in second. You slipped the leather keychain back into the box and held it on your lap as Daryl pulled out of the diner with the two of you, heading toward Hershel’s farm.

The ride was quiet, a lull of conversation as Maggie complained about Jacqui and the other youth group kids that had been roped into the nativity. You stayed quiet, knee pressed against Daryl’s and hands gripping present he had given you, unable to contain the smile on your face. The truck drove the dirt path up to the farm and Daryl cut the engine, Maggie already opening the door and slipping out.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.” Daryl replied, huffing out smoke as you slide across the seat, suddenly cold from the loss of touch. He was gripping the steering wheel with one hand as he watched you get out of the truck, lingering in the door like you always did.

“I do have a present for you, by the way.” You mentioned, spying the newspaper wrapping crumpled on the floor of the truck.

“Ya don’t have ta waster yer money.”

“Too late.” You teased. You met his eyes and your smile widened. On the other side of the truck you could hear the front door clatter open, the familiar squeak of the springs on the screen and footsteps bounding down as Beth ran across the headlights to engulf you in a hug.

“I missed you!”

“Hi Beth, I missed you too!”

Still holding your waist she caught sight of Daryl for the first time and twisted, moving her body behind yours and peeking out at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Daryl dropped his cigarette into the ashtray in the truck as he nodded his head to her, “yer Beth I take it.”

“I am.”

“I like yer braids.” He mentioned, watching the sweet smile she offered as she moved further out so he could see the blonde french braids clearer.

“Thank you! My mom did them for me so that my hair will be wavy tomorrow for Christmas Eve.”

“I’m sure it’ll look beautiful.”

She giggled and you bit your lip as your eyes met his. “I’d better get inside, thanks for the ride.”

“Sure thing, see ya ‘round.”

You walked Beth inside, her gaze wandering back to the pickup as she climbed the porch stairs with you. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“No. Daryl’s not my boyfriend.”

“She wishes.” Maggie teased, waiting at the door for the two of you.

The barn at Christmas was arguably one of your favorite sights in the world. Hershel took great pride in outlining the entire building with lights, he hung a oversized wreath on the side with a large spotlight and the whole thing felt like you were walking into a Hallmark movie or a Thomas Kincaide mural. Georgia didn’t a lot of real winter weather but the barn made you feel like you were in some New England town.

“I was sorry to hear your dad couldn’t make it.” Jacqui came up behind you, her voice returning you to the reality of the evening. Hershel’s barn decorated at Christmas was your favorite but the people who filled it weren’t.

“Yeah, he wishes he could be.” You shrugged. “Working.”

“That’s what your mom said. At least he’s a good worker right? Must be where you get it from.”

Just passed Jacqui you could see your mom talking to Annette. Her eyes met yours and she straightened up, pointing to her mouth and indicating for you to smile. You straightened your back and offered Jacqui a closed lip smile before answering her, “yeah. Must be.”

When Jacqui left to talk to another church member your mom made a quick beeline for you, wrapping her hand around your arm and guiding you outside, away from the party. “What did Jacqui want?”

“She was just asking about dad-”

“What did you say?”

“I said he was at work. God, mom we went over this in the car...I’m not stupid.” You crossed your arms in front of you, looking away from her.

“You didn’t say anything to Maggie?”

“No.”

“Hey!” She grabbed at your jaw to make you look at her, nails scratching against your cheek, “look at me. Did you tell Maggie?”

“No. I didn’t say anything to anyone mom.” You replied, pulling away from her and stepping back, “can I go back inside or did you want to assault me some more?”

“For Gods sake stop being so dramatic.”

“Dramatic? You dragged me out here to ask if I told some random person that my dad is in rehab for the billionth ti-”

“Keep your voice down!” She snapped, “you want everyone to hear you?”

“Sorry mama.”

She smoothed back your hair, pushing stray pieces away from your face and fixing your headband for you before leading you both back inside for the continuation of the night. Neither of you spoke to each other the rest of the evening. Not in the car on the way to the service at church and not once you’d gotten home. You went in your room to change and listened to her in the kitchen, trying to throw together a lunch as she prepared to work through the holiday. A knock on your bedroom door was the only thing to signify that she was leaving and would likely work the whole of Christmas.

The Greene’s would be confused if you went to theirs too early in the morning and you didn’t want to disturb Daryl any more than you already did by showing up at his. Tara was spending the holiday upstate visiting her sister and seeing her niece. The diner was closed. You opted for going straight to bed once your dress was off and your face was clean…hopefully you’d be lucky and you’d sleep through the holiday.

Taglist: @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @alwaysadreamingoptimist @mainokutan @sabertooth-potato @qrangr @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @cathwritestragediesnotsins @siren-queen03

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon au #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #twd fic #twd fanfiction #twd au #twd fanfic #twd imagine #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fic #the walking dead fanfiction #The Walking Dead AU #the walking dead imagine #georgia series #collecting stories imagine

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solartranslations · 3 years

Text

AF2 Debito Chapter 6 (1/ 2): A Magician’s Smile

There are many rare items up for sale during the vibrant and energetic masquerade…

~*Scene: Nordia Town Square*~

Felicita: Oh, that store’s masks look interesting

Debito: You sure are having fun

Felicita: Well, you did ask me on a date, and…

Felicita: You don’t see this kind of thing in Regalo

Debito: Yeah. Every place has their own customs

Felicita: I’m sure Mama was surprised by a lot of things when she first came from Giappone

Felicita: Maybe that’s why she said I should experience foreign countries

Debito: It’s like a reward for me too

Felicita: Huh?

Debito: It means you’re not the only one who wanted us to go on a date

Felicita: Umm…wow this store sure has a lot of red things

Debito: The custom of giving red gifts on cenone is famous after all. Maybe they’re leftovers that didn’t sell

Felicita: Let’s see if they have anything cute

Debito: *chuckle*, of course

Debito: Hey, Bambina. There’s a different kind of red thing that I want besides what they’re selling. You know what I mean?

Felicita: Uh… you mean wine?

Debito: Sure, but, I was thinking of something that was more close by…

Felicita: ??

Debito: Not that what I want would ever fail to sell out

Debito: I wouldn’t allow it

Debito: Since I’d be the one to buy it all

Felicita: Wait, you mean…

Felicita: (…Could he mean me?)

Debito: The rest isn’t something I should say out in public

(*blush) Felicita: …!

Debito: Remember that suspicious person from before? There was some strange movement around Agata…

Felicita: Is Agata in danger? Could it be related to Vir and the Tarocco…?

Debito: Who knows? But when I get a bad feeling, I’m usually right

Debito: …So. Wouldn’t someone with your powers be perfect to guard Agata?

Felicita: It’s true that I’d be able to sense danger quickly by reading the heart of anyone suspicious

Felicita: But anyone could tell right away if I used my powers when I’m wearing these clothes

Debito: How about you just stay close like this then?

Felicita: !!

Felicita: It’s embarrassing for me even if it isn’t for you, Debito…!

Celine: Red gifts are stained with blood

Debito/Felicita: !?

~*Scene: Nordia Alley*~

Celine: When the masquerade ends, so will Agata’s line

Felicita: You’re…

Celine: You two sure were having fun earlier

Debito: And that’s a nice song you were singing. Sure you’re a magician and not a minstrel?

Celine: *laugh* I’m glad you remember me, but I’m not the one who wants to talk with you

Man A: The governor’s security was giving us way too much trouble

Debito: Heh. Agata’s pretty popular despite being a married woman…

Felicita: …!

Man B: I don’t care if they say she’s a witch. There’s plenty of people who want her done with

Man B: You’ve done nothing wrong as her guests. But we need to do this to get what we want

Man A: Don’t worry, we won’t kill you. Roughing you up a bit is enough

Man B: Haah!

Parry!

>Hit

(+10 Amore)

>Miss

(-20 Amore)

Felicita: *dodge*

Man A: Damn!

(*whack) Felicita: Guh!

Man A: Hah! Pathetic!

Man A: No hard feelings!

Felicita: *dodge*

Debito: Tra Coppo Scomparire…!

Man B: …!?

Man A: Hmph…

Felicita: (The one with the dagger isn’t attacking. The other one’s busy with Debito…!)

(*whish) Felicita: Hah!!!

Attack!

>Hit

(+10 Amore)

>Miss

(-20 Amore)

Man B: Damn it!

Man A: Some attack that was

Man A: So the girl’s the one who wants to get it first?

Dodge!

>Hit

(+10 Amore)

>Miss

(-20 Amore)

Felicita: *dodge*

(*bang!)

Felicita: !?

Man A: What!?

(*bang bang!)

(*click) Debito: I’m the one you’re fighting!

Man A: The hell did you come from!?

Man B: Guh…

Man A: Damn it…!

(*click) Debito: Felt like I was getting soft lately so this is some perfect exercise…

Man A: —!

Felicita: Debito!?

Debito: …It wasn’t me

Celine: Bravo!

Felicita: !!

Celine: *laugh*. Spilling blood was unavoidable for today. Sorry~

Man A: …ah

(*collapse)

Celine: And you two are even better than the rumors say. You’ll be worth negotiating with

Debito: …You’re not exactly giving us a chance to negotiate here

Celine: It’s all part of the job. But—

Celine: That white feather I gave her was a gift. You wouldn’t want it to get stained, no?

Felicita: …

Celine: So can we talk then?

Debito: Bambina, let’s give “our powers” a try

Felicita: (…Gli Amanti)

>I’ll use The Lovers

>I won’t use The Lovers

Felicita: But, is this really the right way to use Arcana powers?

Felicita: Celine says she wants to talk…

Debito: …Right now, it is

Celine: Hey, Miss…

Felicita: …….

Debito: Bambina…?

Celine: What? Not talking? There’s no need to be suspicious of me. Then—

Celine: Why don’t you take a look with your “powers”? It’ll be faster than if I were to explain

Felicita: …

Debito: Did you make them attack us so we would use our powers?

Celine: I told you, this is a job. I want to negotiate with you. They want to cause trouble for Agata

Celine: Besides…I can’t understand why such special powers are locked away in an island as small as Regalo

Felicita: You know about Regalo too?

Debito: …Songs, feathers, those attacks…are you with Luce?

Celine: I don’t know which “Luce” you’re talking about, but you’re right

Felicita: Luce…the Lucellino Company?

Celine: Yup. We’re an organization, but it’s pretty secretive. I don’t know all the members

Celine: There might be some near your Family too

Debito: You’re not here just to chat though, right Miss Celine?

Celine: No. But you’ll be out of the loop if you don’t do some chatting. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t important

Celine: I’m here to purchase those powers

Celine: You get what I mean right? Didn’t she come here to Nordia in search of power?

Debito: You’re sure well informed

Celine: And…I came to negotiate with the one who hates the scent of blood but is already stained with it

Debito: Tch…

Celine: Well, it’s normal for people to seek pleasure

Felicita: …You’re mistaken. We’re not like that

Celine: Our organization is well aware of how the Executive of the Coins does his job abroad. Are you?

Felicita: I don’t know and I don’t care. I won’t let it happen either

Celine: Miss, please keep quiet

Debito: …I didn’t do that because I wanted to!

Celine: Stop being so stubborn

Celine: …I’ll be using the parting gift my father left me then

Celine: “Awake to that night”

Debito: That night…!

Felicita: Debito!

Debito: Guh…

>I’ll use The Lovers on Celine

(No Amore)

>I’ll use The Lovers on Debito

(+10 Amore)

>I won’t use The Lovers

(+20 Amore)

Celine: I’m not the one you should be worrying about

Felicita: What did you do to Debito?

Celine: My father is the one who hypnotized him. Not me

Felicita: …!?

Debito: No, no, no. This can’t be…

Felicita: That was…

Felicita: Debito, it’s alright. I’m right here

Debito: …Ah

Celine: He’s waking up!? …Not if I can help it!

Felicita: !?

Debito: You…

❤≪Celine≫ ❤≪Debito≫ ❤≪Debito≫

Link: It’s what my father entrusted me with…

Daily: I’ll find my own path with Lucellino. By any means necessary.

Regalo: As it is now, Regalo has no future

Pain: “7 years ago” “A small house” “A gunshot”

Person: “Dead men tell no tales”…isn’t that what you said?

???: (I can’t see very well here)

Person: He said to forget. “7 years ago” “A small house” “A gunshot”

Pain: On that day…who was I pointing my gun at?

???: (I can’t see very well here)

Celine: So? You remember now?

Debito: That’s…an illusion. A dream. It’s not real…

Celine: The silver cat of Regalo…that’s what my father called you

Felicita: Your father…

Debito: … Karel

Celine: Getting her was a bonus. I only wanted to tell you what my father kept hidden

Celine: Have you woken up then? Once you’ve fallen into the darkness, you can never have a place in the light

Debito: ……

>You don’t get to decide that

(-10 Amore)

>You’re wrong!

(-10 Amore)

Felicita: Debito’s not trapped in the dark…or his past anymore

Felicita: He has me now. So he’ll be fine

Debito: Felicita…

Celine: How so? I think this is better for him in the long run

Felicita: You’re wrong because that isn’t what Debito wants

Celine: *laugh*. You’re so naïve saying that. The happiness you have is blinding

Celine: We’ll see how far meaningless words like that will take you. And besides—

Celine: Are you really okay with always letting her and my father protect you?

Debito: Protect me…?

Debito: Karel always just said how well suited I was for jobs like this…

Celine: That’s what he wanted you to believe since you were weak

Felicita: Stop it already. This isn’t getting anywhere

Celine: Yeah, you’re right. My father has nothing to do with my current organization

Celine: So let me give you some advice. The tournament day is the key to your business with the governor. Stop it from happening, and you’ll be loved by “Luce”

Felicita: Tournament…

Celine: Decide what you want to do by then. Ciao!

Felicita/Debito: …

~*End of Scene*~

(Continue to Debito Chapter 7)

(Back to Directory)

#debito #arcana famiglia #arcana famiglia 2 #chapter 6 #solar translations #psp game #translation #releases #wait if milena's letter was a warning #how does she know about lucellino?#hm....

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carnelianns · 4 years

Note

Hallo! Can we request some Ikesen headcanons or reaction (whichever you prefer really) when MC died because she save them. If you can't do them all, can I get them with Nobunaga, Mitsuhide, Kenshin, Ieyasu and Masamune? Thank youuu! 😘

anon u sound so happy requesting something as sad as this i cried sm

Nobunaga Oda

Your life is precious to him — priceless. The Devil King himself said that nothing, not even his own, can take its place.

And yet here he is, alone, cold, and without you.

You were the only one who truly loved him, who supported him and who cared for him. Now that you’re gone he just.. breaks.

He’s the same Nobunaga, the same Devil King, the same ruler. But he’s not a man, not a human. You had taken the last place in his heart, and without one — without a heart, one is reduced to nothing.

And it’s his fault. Because time and time again has he said that he’d sacrifice himself for you, that he’ll do anything for you. And he’s failed pathetically.

He loved — loves you with his whole heart. Hell, he sees you in every goddamned thing. The stars remind him of how your eyes shined whenever you asked him a question, the pillows on his futon give him the illusion of you and your warmth, even the goddamned konpeito reminds him of you.

He can’t sleep at night. He never does anymore, really. The stars serve a better company than the emptiness of his futon. They remind him of you.

“Perhaps the gods deemed me unworthy of your love, Fireball.” He says into the night, chuckling out emptiness. “After all, I was the one who caused your death, no?”

It’s quiet, of course. He wasn’t expecting anything. Not even the lone tear that falls from his eye.

“I apologise, my heart. But even if I have to wait for five hundred years, or even for my next lifetime, or for the ones after that—”

His voice cracks, though he is the only one to hear the painful sound. “I will do so. And not even the heavens will stop me.”

Masamune Date

Masamune had promised you time and time again that he’d protect you, that he’d love you, that he’d make you as happy as you make him.

He didn’t. He couldn’t. He failed, and he beats himself up for it every single day.

What if he was just a second earlier, what if he moved faster, what if he trained harder…

Countless of these thoughts filled his head every day. Not once have they stopped.

He lives in regret, in pitiful what ifs, in memories he knows he’ll never get back.

And so, he does his best to not regret, to not listen to those what ifs.

Masamune Date turns into a reckless beast, not once stopping, not once thinking about the consequences of any and every action he makes.

He kills the gang responsible for your death. He trains his own self to near exhaustion, to the point wherein he’s found passed out wherever on multiple occasions. He screams, hoping you’d come back, knowing full well that you never will.

“Masamune, stop! You’re going to get nowhere like this, and you damn well know she wouldn’t want this either!” Hideyoshi yells one day, after striking the man down with one, hard punch.

“You know what she wanted, Hideyoshi? She wanted to love me. Me. And look what it did to her.”

Sinking down against the wall, he grips his hair, longing for her touch, for her smile, for her. Tears flow down his face, caressing him just as he wishes you did.

“It killed her. I killed her. And I would do anything if it means seeing her again.”

Ieyasu Tokugawa

To live is to love, and Ieyasu only learned how to do both when he met you.

And now that you’re gone, now that the only person he loves is gone, living isn’t an option for him. He’s simply.. enduring.

Enduring life without you, without your smile, without the forever you promised him.

Now that you’re gone, he can’t go on anymore. Gone are his snarky comebacks, his sarcastic retorts. Gone is he, deep into the abyss he himself made.

He cries at night. Or in the morning. Whenever he sees something that reminds him of you, really.

Of course, he tries to stop the tears. To no avail, however. All his frustration, his regret, his sadness falls. Whether from one, lone tear or from a full-on breakdown.

He lives, yes. Enduring, and holding onto the little wisps of you around him.

“Ieyasu, you need rest. You’re broken, man. Eat up.” Masamune pushes a bowl of otherwise delicious food towards the man.

“I don’t need rest.” His voice is soft, barely audible, as he stares blankly at the bowl in front of him, at the meal he knows you’d be forcing him to eat right now.

“I need her. And it is so, utterly devastating to need something so far out of your reach.”

Mitsuhide Akechi

He does not admit that he has nightmares in the very rare moments he allows himself to succumb to sleep.

He does not admit that each and every day of his life, all he can do is regret and regret and regret.

He does not admit that losing her caused him to lose himself. That losing the one he loves, the one that allowed him happiness, caused him the last of the humanity he had.

Mitsuhide acts as if it doesn’t. As if he’s fine. As if he can still continue living.

And it works. The pitying glances stopped after a few weeks, the worried check ups after a month. Hell, everyone treats him as if he’s human now, and not some messed up, traitorous snake. Something only you did.

They had all fallen for the mask he hand-crafted himself. The mask of a liar. Like he always was.

All of them had fallen, except for one. He doesn’t lie when he says a call from his lord surprises him.

“And what may I do for you, my Lord?” He asks, a smirk on his face at the eyes of the man he knows he’ll never get past.

“I have one simple question, Mitsuhide, and you are to answer me truthfully... What is it you wish for?”

The silence is akin to that in his Manor now that you’re gone. And after a time that is close to forever, Mitsuhide smiles. He smiles, and it is oh-so fake, oh-so sad, oh-so pathetic.

“My only wish is to turn back time, to warn her not to fall for the monster that I will always be.”

Kenshin Uesugi

Kenshin is the epitome of anguish, of sorrow. The poor man has lived his whole life surrounded by it, and meeting you, he was able to escape it. To be happy.

And now you’re gone. The only person he’s allowed himself to love, with no regrets, with no qualms, stolen from his grasp. All because of him.

He’s gone through it once, and with you, he was so sure he wouldn’t have to again. Was. Because due to his failure once more, you’re gone, and he lives with the hard fact that you’re never coming back.

He’s living in hell every single day of his life. If he had withdrawn from purely women before, now, he had withdrawn from every and any living thing.

Even himself. He couldn’t stand it — the face of the devil who let you, the only person who had saved him, die.

He’d stay in his room, only going out in the dead of the night to train and train and train with the very sword that failed to save you, withdrawing once day breaks and once he hears footsteps.

Kasugayama Castle would try again and again and again to get him out of his destructive cycle, saying that it’s not what you would have wanted, yet to no avail.

Because only you are you, only you are the one who taught him how to love once more, and only you are gone.

“What are you thinking, Kenshin? What’s in that heart of yours?” Shingen tries, just as he does everyday.

“Her.” He replies simply. The room is quiet, making the pain in his voice so, hauntingly obvious.

“She’s the only one in my heart, Shingen. And she’ll always be. And so I ask, foolish and regretful and doomed to die…”

“Why? Why must I always be the cause of my own destruction?”

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen sengoku x reader #ikesen x reader #nobunaga oda #masamune date #ieyasu tokugawa #mitsuhide akechi #kenshin uesugi #nobunaga #masamune #ieyasu #mitsuhide #kenshin #headcanons

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maxrev · 3 years

Note

For the kiss prompts: "in the snow" and "life or death" if I can combine them like that? your call) for an otp of your choice.

IT IS DONE...I had no idea this would explode into such a long prompt lol. I mean, I gave it a title and even added a quote xD. Anyways, here you are :) Thanks SO much for the prompt! A bit angsty but I figured the prompt called for it!

Under the cut because...wow...

I’d like to thank @spaced0lphin for her wonderful musical work, as it provided inspiration to write this piece and @theoriginalladya for checking it over

When I Took to the Sky

Death is a challenge. It tells us not to waste time… It tells us to tell each other right now that we love each other. Leo Buscaglia

Arcing through the debris, the drop shuttle came to rest amidst the debris of a ship, snow puffing up into the air as it landed; flakes sparkling as they danced and whirled in the air before once again coming to rest on the ground. Pulling on his gloves, the pilot reached for his helmet resting on the passenger seat and tugged it on, twisting it snug with a snap.

He took a deep, steadying breath...and stepped out onto Alchera.

Ever since Niall had received the message from Admiral Hackett about placing a memorial here, he’d been pushing it aside. A memorial to honor those who’d laid down their lives for the Alliance. Hardly seemed enough, considering how dismissive the findings the crew of the Normandy had presented. But the fact he was employed by Cerberus now was cause for surprise in being contacted. Other questions followed though; why had the Alliance waited so long to decide on a memorial? Had he not rose from the grave like Lazarus, would they even have bothered?

Once he’d agreed, he continued to push it aside. There were other missions to take precedence, a ragtag bunch of crew members to hunt down and recruit, and the Illusive Man to annoy - his personal favorite agenda. Anything took precedence over coming here. He simply wasn’t ready to face the part of his past which had changed everything. There was hope coming here would heal old wounds, rather than deepen them.

His steps were measured, faltering when he came upon a piece of the Normandy, his mind thrown back in time invoking memories he’d suppressed of a life changing event from over two years ago.

Two fecking years!

It was a constant struggle to process the passage of time; dying and then being resurrected without any knowledge of it.

Pausing at the mako, he was thrown into the past, scenes flashing behind his eyes…Kaidan's white knuckled grip as Niall slid the tank through snow and ice up the mountain on Noveria; Ashley yelling with uncontained glee as he'd skidded close to the edge of the lava pools on Feros; Garrus' mandibles twitching when he'd observe the mako on return to the Normandy; Kaidan's resignation upon being turned down again upon his request to drive...the near kiss they'd shared inside the cab a few hours before their last drop when their world ended.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the approach of another drop shuttle.

A sound came from behind him, out of place in the absolute stillness around him. Niall whirled, one hand reaching for his maglocked weapon, the other erupting in a blue glow. Setting eyes on the source, both hands dropped to his side in shock.

Kaidan.

Right away, he noticed he LT had changed. They’d spent so much time together; on the ship, off the ship, on the battlefield, he’d learned the LT’s subtle mannerisms. Gone was the quiet, sensitive marine soldier with stars in his eyes, the romantic he’d claimed to be back on the SR-1. In the eyes staring back at him carefully, in the posture of the man before him, there was a confidence and maturity he’d not had before. There was also doubt.

It's me, Niall wanted to say, to reassure. It just wasn't so simple.

He watched the play of emotions in the deep brown eyes he'd dreamed about so often. Their eyes locked and he was thrown back in time. Although for him, it was only a few months ago...not two years, when they’d been sitting in the mess on the SR-1, drinking coffee and going over their notes on the Terminus. Niall had been going on about the goose chase they'd been sent on...

“I cannae believe they sent us out to the arse end of space for nothing! Wasted two fucking weeks looking for something which isnae even here.” He slammed his fist on the table, other soldiers in the mess startled at his outburst. Niall ignored them.

“I’m sure they just wanted us out of the way but we’ll find something, Shepard. We just have to be patient.”

Niall snorted, “My patience ran dry about an hour inta this mission. I’ll contact those doaty bampots and tell 'em what I really think.”

Kaidan chuckled, took a sip of his coffee before answering, “Not your best idea by a long shot.”

Winking at him and enjoying the slight blush across the cheeks, Niall smiled, “Aye but it’ll be fun and blow off some steam.”

In the end, nothing came of it as the ship rocked hard to port and alarms began to blare around them...

A cough brought him back to the present, watching the brown eyes change in the light, the initial confusion fading to doubt, then replaced with wariness.

"Who are you?" The first words to be spoken aloud between them, in the same velvety rasp which had haunted Niall’s dreams.

They cut deep, hurt worse than any wound he’d endured. He straightened up, pushing the pain away and answered.

“Who d'ya think it is? Jolly ol' St. Nick? Tis me, Kaidan. Niall.” He felt like he was stating the obvious, words coming out sharper than intended.

Silence followed his outburst, the sound of wind wailing in the distance filling the stillness. As the quiet stretched on, Niall reflected on the situation, quickly realizing if roles were reversed, he'd be suspicious as well. Indignation sailed away like a balloon on the wind.

Ready to apologize, Kaidan spoke before Niall could ready his words, “I thought--” voice hoarse with agony, he choked on whatever he’d been about to say, unable to continue. Looking away from Niall, he composed himself, took a deep breath and despite his attempt to remain calm, blurted, “You...you were dead.”

Biting his tongue against voicing the LT’s mighty powers of observation, Niall fought for something a wee bit more serious and relatable. Now wasnae the time for jokes.

“Aye," the words ‘but now I’m not’ still echoing in the air between them. How could he begin to explain what he dinnae understand himself? As if he were stuck in quick sand, he felt the more he tried to climb out, the deeper he sank.

“So, the rumors were true.”

“Och, aye, guess they were.”

“When?”

The wealth of emotion in the single word struck Niall right in the heart, nearly making him stagger from the pain. He fought for an answer, disregarding one after another as they came to him.

With a heavy sigh, he decided on the truth, “Several months ago.” The dark brows inside the black helmet furrowed downwards into a frown he was all too familiar with. Even to his own ears the response sounded lame. “I dinnae know until then. I was...uh...I doonae even know what to call it...brought back to life?” He threw his hands up in frustration.

Disbelief followed his statement, turning quickly to suspicion. He could see the change in Kaidan's eyes through the visor. Tone flat, he echoed, “Brought back to life." At Niall’s nod of confirmation, his voice rose, "How is such a thing even possible? Who is...capable of such a thing?”

Knowing how Kaidan felt about the organization, Niall didn't spare him the facts. He'd find out anyway. “Cerberus.”

The climate of Alchera was cold and frigid, unfit for flora or fauna to sustain life. Even inside his armor, Naill could feel the chill in the air and had simply wanted to walk through the ruins and leave quickly. He’d never expected to find a dog tag or get lost in memories.

And now, with his confession, the temperature seemed to drop even further; at least where the two of them stood. Kaidan stared at him for several long, agonizing seconds. He didn’t bother answering, turning around and walking away.

Niall jumped forward, his gloved hands capturing Kaidan’s stopping him, “Wait, please. Don’t go.”

His gaze dropped down to where their hands were joined; Niall's did as well, heart skipping in his chest. “Please.” He wasn't above begging, not when it came to Kaidan.

Pulling his hand from Niall’s, Kaidan turned away; yet, he didn’t leave. Several minutes went by; Niall held his breath. “How could you? It’s...they’re Cerberus! You know what they’ve done. The...the things we saw!”

Fully aware of what his impassioned words implied, Niall felt his anger rise in response, “Did ya think I had a choice in this? As if I could pick and choose who would ha’ the honors of...of fixing...of rebuilding me? Fuck! I wouldnae have chosen this at all...if anyone had ever bothered to ask me first. But here I am and will damn well make the best of it, ya ken?”

Silence stretched on around them. “Are you…you?” Kaidan whispered.

How many times had he looked in the mirror wondering the exact same thing? “I doonae know, Kaidan…" He repeated in a whisper, "I doonae know."

With the admission, he could not look at Kaidan anymore, gazed around them instead. He saw a glint of something shiny; another set of dog tags perhaps.

To fill the void, he explained, “Saw something sparkle in the sun shortly after I landed. Walked over and found a set of dog tags belonging to Pressly. As I wandered among the wreckage I found more from the crew...the ones who…” he couldn’t say it out loud, felt a hand settle on his shoulder.

Startled, he turned to stare at it, unable to process the gesture with Kaidan’s protests from a few short minutes ago. Did he believe him now or was it all just for show? Yet, Kaidan had never been superficial. Something Niall admired about him, then and now.

“We’ll do it together.” The words startled him even more than the touch, but he was grateful.

“Aye. Tapadh leat.” **

Searching the pieces of the Normandy side by side. As the looked, Niall noticed the sky darkening overhead. Caught up in the past, neither of them had paid any attention. A storm was approaching; a large one. Seeing another glint of metal, Niall brushed off the snow and wrapped the chain around his gloved fingers.

The storm had intensified and was coming at them fast and furious. There wasn’t time for them to get to their drop shuttles and leave.

He turned and tapped on Kaidan’s helmet. “We need to take cover. Now! Get inside one of the drop shuttles!” Niall took off at a dead run towards the one closest, Kaidan hot on his heels.

Jumping inside, Niall slammed his fist against the touchpad, shutting the door just as the storm growled over them, ice chips beating a staccato against the steel hull. Wind buffeted the Kodiak, causing it to rock before sliding a few inches along the ground. Unable to radio out and with no one able to contact them, they were sitting ducks at the mercy of the storm.

Niall reached up and took off his helmet, scrubbing his shorn, itchy scalp with gloved fingertips.

“You...you’re...the scars?” Kaidan finally managed.

Niall had forgotten. Not completely healed when the Lazarus project had been sabotaged, he was left with scars where his skin hadn’t had time to knit back together. Chakwas told him by remaining calm they would eventually heal and fade but with stress, they would remain...or get worse.

Well...

He turned towards Kaidan, their eyes locking. Niall wasn’t the man he’d been the last time they’d seen each other.

“Aye, scars. I wasnae fully healed when...well, when I was brought out of my coma.” He went to replace his helmet.

Kaidan stopped him, hand on his arm. “No, don’t. I don’t care what you look like, Niall. I just...I was surprised.”

He nodded. No moreso than he when he first looked in the mirror. The image staring back at him had been a great shock. That mirror had been replaced. Niall went and sat down on the bench in the back; Kaidan remained standing, neither one speaking as the storm raged on outside. It might last an hour or maybe days.

“Look, Kaidan--”

“Niall, I--”

Both of them spoke at once. Niall gave a weak grin as Kaidan chuckled and he noticed the pink hue covering the tips of the ears. Some things hadn’t changed. He felt as if a weight had been lifted and he’d been granted a boon.

Looking at Kaidan straight on, he began again, “I ken how it looks. I do. But, before you draw and quarter me, I dinnae now what to do, where to go. The Alliance won’t ha’ me now and I talked with Anderson and Hackett. They know what’s going on with the human abductions. The Council won’t listen.” He spat the name, no more enamored with them than in the past. “What would ya ha’ me do?”

“Plead your case, push them. Be relentless like you were before. They have to see reason.”

Shaking his head at Kaidan’s blind faith, he countered, “Do they? Have they ever? Have ya forgotten Sovereign? The Citadel doesnae even remember, the damage wwept away like so much garbage, forgotten and moved on.”

The shoulders slumped. Niall studied him, drinking in the sight of a man he hadn’t realized how much he’d begun to care about. Until he was gone. Yet, here he was right in front of him. And they were arguing, Kaidan too blind to see what was so obvious. He stood up, stepping forward until they were nearly nose to nose. Kaidan looked up.

Niall lost himself in the brown eyes, a golden amber when the light overhead caught them just right. How had he never noticed before? The laugh lines spreading out from the corners of his eyes, the freckles above his right eyebrow. So many details he’s missed. No, he’d never bothered to find. Now, he noticed them all...and more.

Adrenaline surged in his blood, excitement unfurling within him. He remembered the scars over Kaidan’s lips, wanting to touch them, see how they felt beneath his fingertips...against his tongue. They were right there in front of him now. Overcome with a tidal wave of pent up emotions, he acted on impulse.

Leaning forward, he captured Kaidan’s mouth with his, losing himself in the scent and taste of him, in the soft lips, his tongue tracing the scars...finally.

Lost in a longing he had no name for, it took Niall several seconds to register there was no reciprocation. His heart twisted painfully inside his chest. So, this was it, then. He took a deep breath, ready to apologize. But, as he stepped away, he stumbled, Kaidan surging forward to initiate the kiss this time.

The Kodiak faded away, as did the storm outside. Only the two of them existed in this perfect moment and Niall drank it up like a parched man in the desert until they both broke away, simply in order to breathe.

** thank you, Scottish Gaelic, informal

#prompt #laelior #mshenko #mass effect #Niall Shepard #Kaidan Alenko

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leia-organa-fics · 3 years

Text

aftermath (part I)

Set after a reason to stay.

***

Shortly after, when Yavin base had to be evacuated, Han somehow ended up with the task of bringing the princess to Kowak, the Alliance´s new rendezvous point. Why High Command trusted him with her, he had no idea. It wasn´t as if he would do anything to her – for once, he wasn´t that kind of man and second, even if he was, she probably would be able to defend herself just fine even in her injured state. He would have thought though that they´d allocate some nicer quarters to a princess.

That should have been the first clue that maybe his perception of princesses wasn´t close to reality. No, actually, it should have been the third clue after the way she had rescued herself and hid her injuries all through the battle of Yavin. As it was, he just shrugged it all off, telling himself that not even a princess could be picky in the face of the Alliance´s lifestyle and scarce resources.

Therefore, he was completely surprised when he finally realized that during their trip, Her Worship had taken it upon herself to quietly ‘fix’ things on the Falcon that hadn´t even been all that broken and ‘optimize’ things that in his opinion, thank you, had worked just fine before.

It took three days and Chewie pointing it out for him to realize that somehow a full inventory of the Falcon´s supplies had appeared out of thin air, the dishes were cleaner than they´d ever been, and there was absolutely nothing lying around untidily on any surface. When he finally caught on what must have been happening during his shifts in the cockpit for the last three days, he felt anger rise in his chest. Who did she think she was to mess with his ship?

Chewie roared something to stop him, but he was already out of the door of the cockpit to give Leia a piece of his mind. He found her in the lounge, bend over the Darjik table doing force-knows-what. “What do you think you´re doing?” he demanded.

She didn´t even look up while replying, “There´s a stain.”

“Oh, I´m sorry my humble ship is not enough for your privileged tastes.”

“That´s not what I meant, and you know it.” Why was her voice so calm? And why was she still not looking at him?

‘Stop messing with my ship,’ was what he meant to say. What came out was, “Stop that right now. You´re still injured.” And where had that last part come from?

At that reply, she finally looked up. With her jaw set and brows furled, she looked the definition of stubborn. “I´m fine,” she gritted, and it was the first time she sounded like a petulant princess.

“You´re not. I know what the Empire does to its prisoners.”

Her stance softened. “Which end of the cell door were you?”

“Outside,” he admitted. “I was at the Academy … ´til I figured out that torture and genocide weren´t exactly my kind of fun.”

She nodded. “You´re a lot better than you try making people believe.”

“Sweetheart, hate to break it to you, but I´m not good. I´m not here for your pesky, little Rebellion.” He wasn´t, he really wasn´t. In fact, he didn´t know why he was still here … okay, that wasn´t true either. He was still here because of her and the kid, and it was ridiculous. He barely knew them! But somehow Leia´s fire and Luke´s fundamental goodness had drawn him in. He needed to free himself, as soon as possible. He´d have to wait until they reached the rendezvous point though. There, he´d make sure they were safe and then he´d leave.

“You´re doing it again,” she interrupted his thoughts.

“If that´s what you want to believe, suit yourself.”

“I requested the Falcon as my transport, you know.”

That took him by surprise. Again. She really needed to stop doing that. “Why?” he asked.

She just shrugged non-committedly and resumed scrubbing the table.

“Stop that,” he repeated. “It´s already clean.”

The princess, Leia, froze for a moment. “The bench isn´t,” she finally said and turned her attention there. Han watched as she put soap on the cloth in her hand and started scrubbing at a stain that might or might have been there.

Watching her work was fascinating. Her hands were soft. Just one look at them was enough to know that she hadn´t done much manual labour ever in her life. In stark contrast to that, her movements were steady and brimmed with efficiency. They betrayed the accuracy of someone who had learned how to move not gracefully but appropriately. They were the movements of a diplomat. Han wouldn’t be surprised if she had actually calculated the exact speed that she needed to move at to give the illusion of the golden mean between urgency and idleness.

She blended in with what seemed to be perfect ease, and still, everything about her screamed absolute control to Han. Leia Organa was a paradox. Strong but vulnerable. Seemingly invincible but oh so hurt inside. The embodiment of compassion and goodness, but at the same time her fury over Alderaan´s fate burned hotter than a supernova just underneath her skin. She was prickly, difficult and overall insufferable, but nonetheless, people gravitated to her.

After some minutes, it became clear to Han, that she wasn´t going to stop her needless task, until he had left. A part of him wanted to just do so, to leave her and the sadness that clung to her like a second skin behind, to vanish to the cockpit and plan his and Chewie´s next destination after dropping her off with the Alliance. The rest of him though – a far bigger part – couldn´t bring himself to do it. If he didn´t check on her, who would? She didn´t understand Shyriiwook, Luke wasn´t here and as far as he knew, everyone she had been close to had been killed together with Alderaan. Han was many things. Heartless wasn´t one of them. He couldn´t just leave her here alone. She was Leia.

He battered his brain for something meaningful to say, but came up blank, so he fell back on what he knew. “If you keep on doing that, you´ll scrub a hole into my bench.”

She stopped. “I suppose it is clean now.”

“Definitely cleaner than ever before.”

“That´s not hard, is it?” The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, as she finally turned to face him.

“This is a smuggler´s ship and not the royal fleet, Your Worship.”

A frown crossed her face. “Don´t call me that.”

“Don´t worry,” he retorted. “I´ve got many more. How about ‘Your Highnessness’, princess?”

“Don´t.” Her voice turned icy. “I´m not. Not anymore.”

She looked away and he wanted to kick himself. So much for not being heartless. “I´m sorry,” he said sincerely. “Leia.”

It was the first time her actual name had crossed his lips. She seemed to realize it, too, because she faced him again and the anger was replaced by something else that he couldn´t place. They looked at each other for one sheer endless moment, studying each other. When the silence started to become awkward, Han desperately searched for something to busy himself with. In the end, it was her who ended it by putting away the cloth and the soap where she had taken it from.

“Where are we at the moment?”, she asked.

“Near Kashyyk. It will probably be around six more days, before we make it to Kowak.”

“Kashyyk.” She seemed to be lost in thought for some moments before a dangerous glint entered her eyes. “That´s the Mid Rim, isn´t it?”

“Yes,” Han answered warily.

“So, we´re not too far from the Core … “

“Yes, we are damn far away from the Core and it´s gonna stay that way.”

“I need to go there.”

“Where?” he asked, even though he thought he knew the answer. Knew and dreaded it.

“Alderaan.”

Just like he had feared. “It´s gone,” he exclaimed forcefully. “There´s nothing left.”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe. I´ve seen it. You´re not going to find what you´re looking for.”

She closed her eyes. “I know.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “But I need to see it for myself.”

“No.” Han shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

Leia raised her chin and shot him a determined look. “The Royal House of Alderaan had funds stored on Coruscant. It will take some time, but I can pay you.”

“You think this is about money?”

“You made it very clear that that´s everything you care about.”

Stung, Han took a step back. She wasn´t entirely wrong: He had declared very loudly that money was the only reason why he had helped them … but surely his actions spoke louder than those words. He had returned for the kid – without hoping for any reward. He had comforted her. And now she was throwing it back in his face. “You´re right,” he finally said angrily, “but the money won´t do me any good if I´m dead.”

“You escaped the Death Star, but you´re scared of a simple trip?”

“Simple trip? After our escape from the Death Star, the Imperials will be looking for the Falcon. Flying to the Core would be suicide.”

Her anger seemed to deflate as quickly as it had flared up and a defeated look crossed her face. “I need to go there,” she whispered. “Please.”

Han was still hurt, but Leia´s sad eyes bored holes into his resolve. After Yavin, the Imperials probably had bigger concerns than catching one single freighter … and after all, he wasn´t exactly keen on getting back to the Rebellion. Kriff, he was going to regret it. Still. He sighed. “We can´t stay long and at the first sign of Imperial presence, we´ll leave.”

“Thank you,” she said gravely.

Han acknowledged her thanks with a curt nod. “You better get a hold on those funds of yours soon,” he said bitterly.

“I will.” Was that disappointment in her voice? And why did that hurt even more than her earlier words?

Han decidedly did not think about that as he made his way back to the cockpit to change their course to Alderaan. Chewie noticed his gloomy mood and tried to get him to talk about it, but Han rebuked all of his efforts.

The next day was spent in stony silence. Leia seemed to sense his mood and kept away from him. Without Han to talk to, she and Chewie turned to each other instead. What ensued was a series of conversations that consisted of Leia completely misinterpreting Shyriiwook and a lot of pantomime. Unfortunately, conventions for the meaning of certain gestures were different on each planet, so that they didn´t particularly make their endeavour easier. The result would have been hilarious if Han hadn´t been so angry and hurt. In his current mood, it was only annoying. Why did Chewie get along with the princess?

***

You can now find part II here.

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