#can I go back to black and white hatching yet?
Note
"I love your smile" with dreamling from the gentle prompts
Hello I am 8 million years later answering this anon, sorry for the delay, I hope you enjoy it!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰
Also available on AO3
----------------------
It’s the kind of perfect spring day that the poets used to write about. Cool in the morning and warm, but not hot by mid-afternoon. There are sparse clouds in the sky, and the air is fragrant with the smell of flowers, of new life, of new beginnings. The fact that this perfect spring day also falls on a Saturday means that Hob Gadling is out with his camera, photographing every leaf, every small creature, happy couple, and passing vehicle that catches his attention.
And of course, his boyfriend.
It may be a beautiful and warm spring day, but Dream Endless is dressed like it's still the middle of winter; black jeans and black Doc Martens paired with a black tee and black pea coat to complete the ensemble. Hob had managed to talk him out of wearing the black scarf, at least. He knew Dream ran cold even in the summer, but the scarf would have definitely been too warm for today. In contrast, Hob is out in just a plain white t-shirt, cargo shorts and sneakers, and he’s certain that the two of them must strike their own kind of picture walking side by side through the park. Perhaps he’ll ask someone to snap a photo of them on his phone later.
Right now though, Hob’s having too much fun taking photos of Dream. Dream feeding the ducks with the small bag of seeds he’d brought along for just this purpose, Dream stopping to admire the various sculptures scattered throughout the park, Dream stopping to re-lace his boots.
“You take far too many photos of me,” Dream tells Hob eventually, rolling his eyes as he stands back up.
“What can I say?” Hob laughs, snapping another photo of Dream’s unamused face. “I love your smile.”
“Hob,” Dream says, leveling a flat stare at him. Hob continues to click away. “I am not smiling in any of the photos you’ve taken.”
He’s right, but only by a technicality. Dream hasn’t smiled once while looking at Hob’s camera. But the ones where he isn’t paying attention to Hob’s lens, well. That was a different story. But Dream didn’t need to know that right now. Later in the day, maybe.
“I know this may be hard to believe since it ruins that whole tortured poet look you’ve got going on,” Hob quips back at his boyfriend, amusement clear in his tone. “But you do smile.” He says it like he’s sharing a secret, and Dream looks at him in disbelief, before he sighs in exasperation. It's a fond exasperation though, Hob’s learned to tell over the years.
“Come. We are missing the goslings. We must catch them before they swim away,” Dream says, grabbing Hob by the hand and forcing him to put the camera down to rest around his neck. They walk over to where the geese and their recently hatched chicks are idling, and Dream approaches them slowly, kneeling and eventually sitting on a patch of dry grass closest to the pond’s edge. The geese eye him warily at first, but then Dream pulls out some seeds from his pocket, scattering them away from his person and sitting still as a statue while they slowly approach him.
Hob stays back away from where Dream is sitting; geese seem to hate him for some reason, but Dream has yet to meet a bird that doesn’t instantly take to him. It’s one of the things that Hob had noticed about the other man.
They’d met a little over two years ago in this very park, and Hob had been enraptured by Dream feeding the pigeons. He’d only meant to snap one or two photos of the strange goth man, but then one of the pigeons had flown up onto Dream’s shoulder and cooed happily as the man fed it straight from his hand. Dream’s smile had been small, but absolutely radiant in that moment. Hob fell in love at first sight.
Dream, decidedly, had not. He thought Hob to be a nuisance, had thrown a fit about having his photo taken without his knowledge or permission when Hob approached him. Hob had promised to not post any of the photos anywhere, and even offered to delete all of them if Dream saw them and really hated them that much. It would’ve killed Hob to delete such stunning photos, but he would’ve done it.
Luckily for him, Dream had softened when Hob had shown him the photos, then demanded Hob print them for him for free. Hob agreed, and then, because he had absolutely no self control around beautiful people, had asked Dream if he’d let Hob buy him dinner as an additional apology. Dream turned him down, and then also refused to give Hob his name when asked. Hob was hopelessly charmed.
After bringing the other man the agreed upon photos a week later, Hob promised not to photograph him if they ever ran into each other again. Dream looked at Hob like he didn’t believe the other man, but Hob kept his word, and for a time they maintained a pleasant, but distant acquaintance whenever they happened upon one another on days when the weather was nice.
It was Dream, surprisingly, who decided to approach Hob with a rather lucrative offer a few months later.
“I’m interested,” Dream had told him.
“In me?” Hob asked, surprised and flattered all at once.
“In your photography experience,” Dream clarified, though his cheeks had pinked at Hob’s words. “My sibling is getting married in a few months and they have yet to find a photographer they like.”
“Well, I can give you my website so you can show them my portfolio—”
“They’ve already seen it,” Dream interrupted him, blushing all the way from the tip of his nose down to his neck. “I—they wanted me to ask you if you’d shoot for their wedding. Personally.”
The rest, they say, is history. Hob hasn’t stopped photographing Dream ever since—with permission, of course.
In the present, Hob watches Dream’s patience and gentle tenacity pay off. The goslings eventually crowd around him and chirp happily, while the parental (Mother? Father? Hob can’t tell) goose angrily hisses at every other passing person who gets too close. They seemed to have claimed Dream as one of their own.
Hob’s camera clicks away until he hears a low warning beep signifying that his memory card is full.
In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have taken that 25 minute video of Dream feeding the crows the other day. But well, they’d all crowded around him and he’d looked so happy. The crows looked happy too, probably because Dream may as well look like them. It was cinematic art, and Hob would not be convinced otherwise.
When Dream eventually runs out of seeds, he bows his head and holds out his empty hands, a universal sign for the end of their interaction. The geese seem to realize quickly he will no longer feed them, and so they wander off into the nearby lake, the babies eagerly and awkwardly following their parent on tiny legs still unused to traveling by land. Hob waits until they’re all safely in the water before he takes a seat next to Dream.
“Have you finally tired of photographing my face?” Dream asks before resting his head on Hob’s shoulder.
“Never,” Hob answers with a small laugh. “I ran out of memory.”
Dream lets out a dramatic sigh. “Finally.”
“Oh hush, you,” Hob replies, jostling Dream with his shoulder. The other man groans at having been disturbed, and Hob takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around Dream’s shoulder, before planting a kiss to his hair.
“Show me?” Dream asks, reaching for Hob’s camera. “I want to see just what it is you find so fascinating about watching me feed waterfowl.”
Hob chuckles.
“Everything, love,” he answers honestly as he pulls up the photos for them to review on his camera’s tiny screen. “Absolutely everything.”
#dreamling#the sandman#sandman fanfiction#dream x hob#hob x morpheus#seiya writes#seiya writes dreamling
152 notes
·
View notes
Text
❝ MEETING ROBIN BUCKLEY. ❞
↳ In which you flirt through your mutual friend, Steve.
Everything is all vividly coloured, with neon-coloured lights, water fountains, crowded tables and various children's rides, like the carousel and the Indiana Flyer. People are packing everywhere, all with brightly lit expressions stretching across their faces, following along with family and friends in huddles. The town of Hawkins is already a hellhole, with or without a new mall, and nothing can possibly change that.
Your eyes darted around, hoping to find the potential ice-cream shop you'd heard about. Your search quickly ends, once you see a brightly coloured store, with a red lettering sign reading: Scoops Ahoy!
You got to the store with unexpected difficulties, after pushing countless people out of the way and getting some foul words and looks in return. Already, you can hear some outstandingly cheesy sailor music playing loudly, making your nose scrunch up in disgust.
The interior is somehow worse. The walls are covered with blue, red and white striped wallpaper while seating booths are placed around the ice-cream parlour, red leathered and shiny. It was quite shocking to you that it was almost empty, since, Starcourt Mall had just opened. Logically, wouldn't people crowd around an ice-cream parlour on a summer morning?
You walked up to the counter to find Steve, a tall teenager your age, with styled hair and an ego too large for anyone to handle. You hit your hand on the bell that's on the corner of the front counter, causing Steve to bring his attention back to reality, rather than dozing off in his thoughts mid-task.
“Ahoy!” Steve greets from the register, not bothering to look up from whatever he had been occupied by.
“Wow, this place really complements the look." You taunted, smirking, when he finally spots you. The sailor theme is rather hilarious.
“Y/n?” Steve smiled, leaning on the counter as he takes you in, “What’re you doing here so early? My shift doesn't finish for hours.”
“I needed to kill some time,” You shrug, “I thought I'd pay my favourite sailor a visit.”
Steve puffs, opening his mouth to respond. But, before he can say anything, another voice pipes up from around the corner. It's raspy, laced with sarcasm.
“He’s only your favourite sailor because you haven’t met me yet," At the hatch behind Steve is a tall girl with broad shoulders, a tall figure and a careless posture. She has her hands placed on the further counter, while she starts twirling a black ring around her middle finger. She has black bracelets and a watch on one wrist, a spiked bracelet on the opposite. Both hands are painted with black nail polish, which shine in the light, presumably because they are newly painted. She was, like Steve, also dressed in a ridiculous uniform, which she somehow made look attractive. “I promise I’m much better company.”
“Well, you certainly look better in the uniform.” You look her up and down, chuckling, as she returns a flirtatious grin.
Steve looks pathetic as he starts running a hand down the front of his ludicrous smock, “I think I make this thing work pretty well for me.”
The girl scoffs, wide-eyed, “The loser board says otherwise, Dingus.” She calls, pointing at the whiteboard that's propping up next to her. The board is split in two: one side had, "You Rule!" written above it, and, the opposite side, "You Suck!". With no surprises, The 'You Rule!' side has no marks below it, whereas the other has a large amount of five drawn on.
You laugh at this, fingers tapping against the glass of the countertop, as you look at the board, then back to her, “Things can only go downhill when he’s forced to use words.”
She laughs with you briefly, then taps her name badge with her finger, "I'm Robin, in case you didn't know. Robin Buckley."
You raise your left eyebrow, "I do recall being in most of your classes, y'know. Just because I hang around with Steve doesn't mean I'm a complete moron."
Steve pouts from where he stands, arms crossing defiantly over his chest, “This is not a duo I'm here for at all. I think we should have a rule that you two are not allowed within thirty feet of each other."
“You always try to keep me away from the pretty ones." You roll your eyes, lips set into a smirk as she watch Robin’s cheeks turn a dark shade of strawberry red. For someone with such a tough attitude, she sure was easy to fluster.
“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “—I hate fighting for your attention. You make me feel like a fool when around ladies with you.”
“I'm sorry," You shrug your shoulders, "Must be a weakness of mine.” You breath a laugh once more, glancing over at Robin, who was already staring.
“Are you flirting with me through Steve right now?" Robin starts shaking her head in disbelief, "Is that what’s happening? — Because, if you are, I’m disappointed in myself that it’s working.”
Steve swiftly turns to you, “My charms have rubbed off on her! She's like a charm-sucking vampire. She’s the reason I can’t get any girls.” He rants, pausing with wide eyes as if he’d came to some great realization, “It all makes sense now...”
“The only thing I’ve gotten from being around you is brain damage.” You respond, with a playful eye roll.
Robin purses her lips and places a hand to her hip, feeling a surge of confidence, "If you want to ever flirt without proxy..." She pulls a black pen from her pocket, then holds out one of her soft hands to take one of yours. You slide yours into her palm without hesitation, both of you sharing a smile.
She quickly finishes scribbling her phone number to the back your hand, her warm fingers brushing across your skin. You feel a small shiver briefly down your spine, throwing you slightly off guard. Robin stands back with a pleased smile, "Call me?"
You smile softly, nodding your head, "Consider it already done."
♡︎♡︎♡︎
first fic here, kiiinda nervous... (is the robin fandom still active on tumblr?¿!) interactions are appreciated! 🫶🏻
#robin buckley#robin buckley headcanon#robin buckley oneshot#robin buckley x reader#robin buckley x you#robin buckley x y/n#stranger things#stranger things 3#stranger things 4#maya hawke#wlw#wlw love#fanfic#steve harrington
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part II: To Strange Horizons
Word Count: 3715
Warnings: Cussing / allusions to violence
A/N: Hello all! Just a heads up that this chapter is just a little bit shorter than the last one but that's just because it's setting up a lot of stuff that's going to be happening in chapter 3. Hope ya'll enjoy!
:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:
The ship is a beautiful thing – far better taken care of than any of the ships that I had seen grace the ports of Easthallow before. It's not an overly large ship, though it is most definitely large enough to be a threat to most merchant ships that sail these waters. It’s painted black and decorated with white embellishments, with “Starcatcher” emblazoned proudly on its side. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and my steps slow to a stop as we approach. Though night has descended upon us, the full moon casts just enough light for me to stand in awe of the magnificent ship.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Jacob asks, looking at me with a proud glint in his eye.
Slinging my pack higher on my shoulder, I nod.
“I’ve never seen a ship like it before.”
“Aye, I reckon not many come through here with such a ship. She’s a galleon.” He says glancing over his shoulder and beckoning for me to follow him.
Tearing my eyes away from the ship, I hasten my steps to catch up with him.
“She can reach up to eight knots. That’s almost 140 miles a day.”
He speaks with pride, and despite having never been acutely interested in ships, I want him to tell me more. His voice is so different as he speaks of the Starcatcher, and I wish desperately that this kinder tone would never leave him. Gone is the brooding sadness and barely contained rage, replaced instead with a fondness and pride that makes him seem so much softer than he had before.
“She's gorgeous.” I tell him, and his lips turn upwards in a barely there smile. It’s the most genuine expression I think I have received from him yet. I want more than anything to see what his real smile looks like.
“Why did you name her Starcatcher?”
No sooner had the question left my mouth, the expression dropped from his face. Like watching a mask slip into place, his face contorts into a scowl.
“I was not the one who named her.” Is all he says before turning on his heel and marching into the ship.
His shifts in mood threaten to give me whiplash as I silently follow behind him, cursing myself for asking.
–
All eyes turn to us as soon as we step onto the deck. I pull my pack tighter to myself, wishing to shrink away from their peering eyes. Some 25 men make up his crew in total, and not a single one of them carries an expression that is in any way welcoming. Some look on in confusion while some cannot seem to contain their scowl as they regard me. Each man looks to be no older than 30, though they all carry a weight to their shoulders that makes them seem older somehow.
“What the fuck, Jacob?” The curly headed man from before exclaims, rising from where he’d been leaning against the foremast and I gasp at his use of profanity. Never have I heard a man say such crude language before.
The other men mutter amongst themselves, casting looks towards myself and Jacob.
“Sit down, Joshua.” Jacob orders, and Joshua’s eyes blaze at the command. He takes a step back, but does not sit. “You, Samuel, and Daniel stay. The rest of you,” Jacob’s eyes scan the other men, “find somewhere else to be.”
“Captain, respectfully-” One man begins, but Jacob is swift to cut him off.
“Trust that I will make sure that you all are informed of what you need to be. We need a moment alone.”
The authority in his tone makes a shiver run up my spine. The rest of his crew rises and cast their eyes downwards at Jacob’s feet as they pass – each seemingly too afraid to meet his stone-cold gaze. They travel in single file to the hatch, climbing downwards into the darkness below.
As soon as the hatch door closes, Jacob grips my wrist and tugs me forward, pushing me towards a wooden crate sitting by the foremast at Joshua’s side.
“Sit.” He orders, and I do so without resistance.
“Well?” The long-haired man asks, crossing his arms over his chest and turning to Jacob.
“I found them. But they’re encoded. She’s the only one left who knows how to read them.” Jacob explains. He’s standing with his legs parted and chin high – a boastful position that oozes authority, despite being shorter than the long-haired man.
“Could she not decode them now?” The fourth man asks, breaking his silence for the first time. He’s got darker features than the other three men, with black curly hair that frames his strong jawline.
“She said-”
“It will take time to decode them.” I interrupt the Captain, sitting up straighter as each of their gazes falls onto me. “I can speak for myself, thank you.”
The long-haired man chuckles softly under his breath, earning himself a glare from Jacob. He silences himself quickly.
“It has been a long time since I practised these symbols, and each set is slightly different from the others.”
“And how exactly do we know that we can trust you, lass?” Joshua asks with a tilt of his head. He’s smiling, and the expression reminds me so suddenly of Jacob that I assume they must be related somehow.
“We don’t.” The long-haired man mutters, leaning over towards the dark haired man as he speaks.
“Samuel, enough.” Jacob cuts in. “She’s all we have. There are no Calloways left that could decode these symbols. She’s the last one.”
Samuel raises his hands in a placating manner, shrugging his shoulders.
“Just asking, brother. Just asking. If she truly is the only one, then trust her we must, I suppose.”
The Captain nods at him solemnly.
“I don’t like it.” Joshua announces, crouching down before me so that we’re eye to eye. “You know what they always say…” He starts, grinning wickedly as he extends his hand to brush my cheek with his fingertips. “Never trust a fucking Calloway.’’
I jerk my head away from his touch, fear gripping me as he stares. His smile seems genuine and yet I see no kindness behind his eyes. It’s unsettling.
“Calloway I may be,” I start, narrowing my eyes at him in what I hope is a menacing expression, “but I would appreciate you stepping away from me.” The demand is overshadowed by the shake in my voice but I do not drop his gaze. Somehow, I feel as if looking away first would be a victory for him.
“Joshua…” Jacob begins, but he only shrugs as he rises from his squatted position.
“Kitten's got claws, it seems.” He says snidely, winking at me as he straightens himself.
“Daniel?” Jacob asks, turning to the dark-haired man. “You’ve not said anything.”
Daniel only hums quietly, touching his forefinger to his chin as if in thought.
“We don’t really have much of a choice, do we?”
They are all silent for a long moment and a shiver runs through me as I realize that my fate lies solely in the hands of these strange men.
“That’s settled then.” Jacob nods, wringing his hands together as he appraises me. “Take her to my quarters. She can sleep there for now.”
With that, Jacob turns on his heel and makes his way to the bow. His long coat billows behind him as he walks and I take it that I will most likely not see him again tonight.
Samuel and Daniel both turn their gazes back towards me, but Joshua’s eyes stay trained on Jacob’s back. His expression is one of pain – the depth of which I can scarcely imagine.
“Follow me.” Daniel says, and though his tone is not necessarily amicable, there is far more kindness in his tone compared to the other three.
I rise from my place and follow him down the steep stairs and through the hatch, steadying myself on the rails as we go. Though the November air outside on the deck had been chilled, down here is of a different set: more oppressive, more solid. It has substance. Moist and enveloping, sucking me in and stealing my breath. Already, I miss the clean air of land.
“Where will the Captain sleep if I am in his quarters?” I ask Daniel, eyes trained on his broad shoulders as we walk.
“He rarely sleeps down here, lass. If he sleeps at all.”
I nod, his response only arising more questions than answers. I say no more.
–
His quarters are not what I had expected them to be – almost homey in comparison to the rest of the ship. A lit lantern sits on the desk in the corner, casting the room in a warm light. His bed is perfectly made, looking almost completely untouched save for the rumpled covers at the foot, indicating that he must have sat down there recently.
“What’s your name, lass?” Daniel asks me as I step through the threshold.
“Y/n.”
He just nods, staring at me for a long moment. His gaze is piercing, yet I do not feel uncomfortable from it.
“Thank you for agreeing to this, Y/n. Though it is not my place to tell you why translating those notes is important to him, just know that you are instrumental in retrieving something very important to him – to all of us, really.”
I do not know how to answer him. I only give him a terse smile as I place my pack on the Captain’s bed.
“I’ll take my leave now.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” I hope that he knows that I mean it.
Once the door closes behind him, I take a moment to observe the room closer. His desk is cluttered – scribbled notes and maps littering the surface. Gingerly, I step forward to examine them. I sort through each one slowly, feeling like a child doing something she knows she’s not supposed to. Most of the notes are nonsense to me – sea-faring talk that I do not understand the meaning of.
But it’s not those that catch my eye. Amongst the scribbles, there lies a few metered verses scrawled into the margins of the pages.
Poems.
Few of them finished and most covered in crossed out words, but poems nonetheless. As I glance over them, I cannot help but to admire the lines. The Captain has a way with words.
The thought of him sitting alone here, bent over a piece of paper and scrawling these verses makes warmth spark to light in my belly – despite the fact that they are not happy verses. Yet their sorrow carries beauty. Wistful lamentations of being lost at sea – torn apart and floating aimlessly through the frothy depths. Reading them feels like the deepest invasion of privacy and I tear my eyes away from them.
There is one painting sitting framed on his desk. A woman – with beautiful dark skin and long hair. I pick up the frame, admiring her closer. Though it is only a painting, I cannot help but stand in awe at her beauty. My mind spins with possibilities of who she might be. A lover, surely. An odd feeling takes root in my sternum at the thought, though I cannot begin to explain why. Turning the frame over, I see no markings that give any indication as to who the woman is or when the painting was done.
A knock at the door startles me, and I quickly place the frame back into its spot. I step away from the desk, once again feeling as though I am not supposed to be in here.
The door opens before I can invite the intruder in and I bristle as Joshua strides into the room, pointedly closing the door behind him. The dim light of the lantern casts shadows across his sharp jawline and his white teeth almost glow in the darkness. There is something about him… an aura that sets me on edge. He’s like the clouds that cover the sky before a heavy storm – looming menacingly on the horizon. I feel as though he might snap any moment, pulling me into the fray alongside him.
“What do you want?” I ask, cursing how meek my voice sounds.
“Sit.” He orders, his voice silky smooth as he points towards the end of the Captain’s bed.
I huff a breath as I follow his command.
“I am only going to say this one time, lass.” He mutters, stepping in close to me and leaning downwards – so close that I can feel his hot breath on my face. “Breathe a word of what I am about to say to you to anyone, and there will be Hell to pay. Do you understand?”
I purse my lips and do not give him an answer, but he seems to take my silence as answer enough.
“My brother… he’s been through much. And the thing he seeks means more to him than the very air he breathes.” His voice is low, almost a whisper as he speaks. “If for some reason he does not succeed, he will not survive it.”
I open my mouth – intent on demanding answers as to what this quest of his must be but he silences me with a piercing look.
“I will not tell you what it is that he seeks. It is not your place to know. I simply need you to understand something.”
Already, I grow tired of the riddles. But yet… I understand that I am not yet owed any explanation. They do not trust me – nor I them. Yet, here I am on their ship, abandoning everything that I know for the sake of helping a pirate who threatened my life. It sounds so absurd I almost laugh out loud.
“And what exactly do you need me to know?”
“If the reason that he does not succeed is you… understand that I will kill you. Slowly. Painfully. In all the ways that I know hurt the most. I have lost more than you could ever even dream of, and I will not lose him too.”
The aggression of his earlier tone gives way to a deep, heart wrenching desperation as he speaks, and I find myself nodding without conscious thought. There is no doubt in my mind now that he and the Captain’s relationship is close – even for siblings. I am struck with a pang of jealousy at the thought of someone loving me that fiercely and, despite the circumstance, I cannot help but admire the intense protectiveness that the man in front of me possesses.
“I understand.” I whisper, meeting his gaze with as much honesty as I can. “I want to help him. I cannot tell you why, but I know that helping him is what I am meant to do. And I know that the nature of my family name must give you reason to doubt that – but believe me when I tell you that I am not like the rest of my family. I knew few of them, and the ones I did I wish that I had not…” I trail off for a moment, feeling suddenly startled by the honesty of my own words. I had never spoken this out loud to anyone before and here I am, spilling my most personal secrets with a stranger. There is something about Joshua that seems to draw the truth from between my lips unbidden.
“So please see the truth within my words," I continue, my words coming out only just above a whisper, "when I say that I refuse to be anything like them. And I will do anything and everything in my power to help the Captain in his quest – whatever it may be.”
There is no lie as I meet Joshua’s gaze, and somehow I can see that he realises it.
Joshua nods and for the very first time, his expression is genuine as he regards me.
“I think we understand each other, then.” He says, straightening up and heading towards the door.
“I think we do.”
“Good night, Y/n.” And with that, he’s gone.
I exhale through my nose, instantly feeling more at ease at his absence. A tentative truce may have occurred between myself and Joshua but I am not fool enough to believe that he really trusts me. I certainly do not fully trust him.
As the silence of the room surrounds me, a bone-deep weariness overtakes me – the emotional turbulence of the day finally catching up to me. I eye my pack, debating on whether or not I have the energy to pull out those folded pages within and begin the painstaking task of translating them. Pressing as the matter may be, my vision is already swimming and the thought of trying to decipher the codes sounds near impossible at the moment. It would be of no real use to attempt it now.
Instead, I place my pack on the floor and pull the covers back, slipping into the beckoning warmth of the bed. Immediately, my senses are flooded with his smell – sweet whiskey, sweat, and the smell of salt all mixed together with his natural musk. I inhale deeply as I settle in, closing my eyes against the dim glow of the lantern, now only just barely still burning. It doesn’t take long for the gentle rock of the boat to lull me into sleep.
:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:
Joshua POV
Jacob has not moved by the time I ascend to the deck again. He stands at the bow, looking out into the dark waters.
Even from afar, his pain radiates from him like a black smoke, sputtering out of his very pores and coating myself and him with its inky substance, threatening to choke us both. I wish desperately that I could take it from him.
“She’s settled, I think.” I speak into the silence, coming to stand just behind him.
“Thank you.”
He makes no move to turn around as he speaks and the distance between us has never felt more cavernous. I ache to reach out and touch him… to feel the warmth of him as some sort of proof that he’s still alive and not made of cold stone.
“Do you really think those notes are the key to all of this?”
Still, he does not even look at me.
“They will at least give me some sort of inkling as to whatever it is that I will be walking into.”
“We.” I remind him, pointedly taking a step closer so that our shoulders are almost touching. His gaze remains fixed upon the water, watching how the moon’s reflection dances with the waves.
“There is no telling the danger that lies in waiting. I cannot ask you to follow me. Any of you.”
“Then it is a good thing that you do not have to ask.” I grip his shoulder, willing him silently to at least look at me as I speak. He does not, instead simply shrugging his shoulder to detach himself from my grip.
He only hums in response and I cannot stop the sigh that escapes me. This is not the first time that we have had this discussion – nor will it be the last. But I will sooner throw myself overboard than allow him to do this alone.
“Jack said that we will need to stop for provisions.”
Jacob nods.
“We will stop at Nassau, then. Make a quick stop there for rest and supplies before setting out.”
I roll my eyes, groaning at the suggestion.
“Must you always choose the most vile of places, brother mine? I can already smell the shit and piss from here.”
At last, Jacob turns to look at me and he chuckles lightly – and the sound makes my entire body thrum with warmth. I have not heard him laugh in a very long time.
“That’s our own people that you’re speaking about, Joshua.” He says with a small grin.
“And I’m sure Hornigold will be oh so pleased to see you again.”
Jacob nods.
“If he sees me. Though the hope is that he is none the wiser that we are there.”
“And if he does find out?”
“Then he will just have to get over himself.”
We are both silent for a moment and it feels, briefly, like everything is back to normal… like none of it happened. I wish I could make it so. There are so many things that I wish we all had done differently.
I shake my head. It does no good now to dwell on the past.
“Try and get some sleep tonight, Jacob. I know I’m the prettier twin anyway... but you look like shit.”
Jacob exhales a laugh, narrowing his eyes at me. At first, I think he might send a jab back at me – a playful insult to level the playing field. It’s what the old Jacob would have done. But he doesn’t. It’s only another painful reminder that the Jacob I once knew is long gone.
“I’ll try.” He says, and that’s the closest he’s come to actually admitting that he hasn’t been sleeping well – a fact which we are all aware of, yet too afraid to mention to his face. The men fear him now – a fact that pains me beyond measure. The man standing in front of me... I hardly recognize him anymore.
“My door is always unlocked.” My words slip out unbidden. It’s silly – the prospect of two grown men sharing a bed. But I won’t retract the offer. We used to do it when we were young… when one of us needed comfort or had a bad dream. Surely, after everything, no one could fault either of us for seeking out some extra comfort. Though undoubtedly, he will not take it.
“I know.” Jacob turns back around, and I can see in his posture the silent dismissal. Though my heart aches as I make my leave, I am comforted slightly in the knowledge that he had laughed – it was small, more of an exhale really, but he had laughed. As minuscule of a victory it may be, it is a victory still. A sign that the real Jacob is still in there somewhere – just hidden away from us. I can only pray that he will return to us. If this mission of his fails… I can only fear the worst.
:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:
Part III
Mirror of the Damned taglist:
@jakeyt @sacredjake @carbondancingthroughtime @literal-dead-leaf @sinarainbows @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @aflame4goinghome @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @mysticalstarcatcher @brinlygvf @mackalah @vanfleeter @chewbeka22 @starcatcherchords @char289 @amygvf13 @way-to-go-lad @jaketlove
#mirror of the damned#dee's writing#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fanfiction#pirate jake kiszka#jake kiszka
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
When the dragons fly(book 2)
After caring your new three little friends back to health, you finally decided to give them names. Aelon thinks deeply about his fears and Maedhros contemplates the promise he made with the little boy.
Chapter 9
Warnings: mentions of the orc incident, fear, shaking hands, kids being grounded, some teasing, and a fluff moment.
--------------------------------------
At the mountain stable, you laid the basket down outside the cave. The little hatchlings looked up to you as you took the lid off the basket and allowed them to look around their new surroundings. They chirped and looked around curiously, but they did not seem willing to leave the safety of their cushioned basket, not yet, at least.
After two weeks of feeding the hatchlings and helping them regain weight, you decided it was a good time to introduce them to your dragons.
“I'm so excited to see how Baleria and Falconer will think of them," Aelon said as he stood beside you, hunched over while smiling at the hatchlings.
You two then heard loud stomping and saw Baleria approaching you. The black she-dragon stood proudly above you before leaning her head down to look at the hatchlings in the basket, sniffing in their scents. The three squealed out of startle, staring and roaring at the larger dragon.
The biggest of the three dared to come near her, trying to intimidate her. Baleria puffed her nostrils, making the little hatchling fall on its back and squeal away from her.
You giggled and then laid your hand on Baleria’s snout.
"Careful. They're young," you said softly.
Your companion did not look even half impressed or interested in the hatchlings. On the contrary, she looked more annoyed than ever. She puffed her nostrils and walked back inside the cave to continue her nap.
"Huh? She doesn't look interested?" Aelon questioned after watching her leave.
You smiled. "You can blame Falconer for that. He was not very easy to handle when he was a hatchling, so she's most likely not keen on reliving it with three more," you said as Falconer was next to approach the hatchlings.
Falconer stopped and began hissing at the hatchlings. His red eyes locked on the green hatchling especially.
Aelon panicked and stopped his dragon from intending to fight.
"No! Falconer! Not a turtle! Not a turtle!" he screamed.
You giggled at the sight before turning your attention to the hatchlings. They stared at you curiously, eagerly waiting for the next thing to happen. You thought to yourself for a moment. It’s been two weeks since you found them and cared them back to health. This seemed like a proper time to finally give them their names.
You glanced at the biggest of the hatchlings. The little red dragon was a male and possibly the first to hatch from the clutch.
"You shall be...Aegar, the oldest of your siblings," you gave him a piece of meat. Aegar snatched the meat from your hands. He ate it with one gulp and puffed his chest proudly.
You then locked your eyes with the green hatchling, which you found out to be the only female.
"You shall be... Viserya, for your beauty and rather sassy nature," you handed her a piece of meat, which she ate happily.
"And you..." you looked at the smallest of the hatchlings. The little red and white dragon sneezed, releasing a puff of smoke before you could think of anything.
"Smoke," you said. The hatchling jumped in excitement as you dropped him a piece of meat, which he loudly munched.
Aelon glanced at you after calming down his dragon.
"(Name)?" he called out to you.
"Hmm?" you turned to look at him.
"Now that we know that the orcs are looking for us. Are we going to be safe here?" Aelon asked.
You thought about it. Aelon told you what he had heard from the orcs while hiding, and you nearly forgot about it.
"Since it's only been a few months since the incident. They should give up in another month or two if they fail to find anything," you explained. "I believe we will be safe as long as we don’t go flying. These mountains are hard to climb, and I have the key to the door," you added.
Aelon still looked hesitant but didn't say anything.
After introducing the three to your dragons, feeding them, and trying to get Falconer comfortable around Viserya, which he keeps thinking of as a turtle. You and Aelon soon returned to the village.
You carried the basket back inside the house as Aelon waited outside. He then saw Helena's father approaching him.
"Hello, Aelon. Is your sister home? There's something I wish to discuss with her," Hadar questioned. "She just went inside. She will be back shortly," Aelon replied as you closed the door, alerting them.
"(Name) about the incident with the orcs. I wanted to know ..." Hadar started as you listened.
Aelon listened for a while, but then his mind wandered elsewhere. It had now been two weeks since the orc incident. Eweniel and Rodrick were grounded, so he hadn't seen them for a while, nor had he seen the twins. The village had become more strict with the rules since the incident, and Aelon felt partly responsible for it.
No matter what he does, he always ends up in some kind of danger with his friends. Why does it keep happening to him?
He then noticed Eweniel, Rodrick, and the twins walking up to him. He felt happy to see them, but he also felt confused. He wasn’t sure if they should be coming to see him after the incident.
"Hey, Ae! Why the long face?" Eweniel asked.
“No… nothing. What’s going on? Aren’t you supposed to be still grounded?” Aelon questioned. “Yeah, but it's been two weeks now. Besides, my parents only told me I couldn’t go to the river anymore. They didn’t say I couldn’t come to see you.” Eweniel grinned.
“I… guess you’re right on that,” Aelon smiled.
“So, why are you like there are rain clouds over your head?” Eweniel asked.
“It’s just…” Aelon stared at the ground, thinking about the incident with the orcs. “I don’t know… I just feel partly responsible for the whole incident,” he revealed.
"Why? It wasn't your fault that the orcs were there," Eweniel asked.
"If I had just persuaded us to stay in the village, then maybe we would have never gotten hunted by those orcs,” Aelon explained.
"Ae! It's not your fault! We couldn't have known that we would end up in something like that," Eweniel said. "And besides, you kept us safe," she nudged him with a smile.
"Yeah, and leading the orcs away so we could escape. That was brave. I became more scared that those orcs were going to hurt you if we didn’t get your sister there in time,” Rodrick said while eating something from a bag.
"You are the bravest of us. And that's your second time meeting orcs," Samuel said.
"Yeah," Aelon nodded his head.
"And if that is not enough to convince you," Eweniel opened her arms. "Group hug! Time to make Aelon happy!" she declared, and then Aelon was suddenly hugged by all of his friends. He was startled but did not have the heart to turn them away.
"Feeling any better? We can just hug you tighter!" Eweniel said as they all giggled while hugging him. Aelon laughed. "No, this is fine!" he hugged back.
He and his friends laughed as they finally released him from the smoldering hug.
"And if you ever feel down again. Just tell us. We hug those bad thoughts away," Eweniel said.
"Thanks..." Aelon smiled.
"Now that is just precious," you said as you and Hadar stopped to look at them.
As his friends chatted around him, Aelon's mind drifted elsewhere, consumed by memories of the orc encounter. He felt chills return to his hands as he relived the fear of being hunted and chased. His hands shook so much that he had to hold them in place before any of his friends noticed.
He hated that feeling, the feeling of helplessness and fear. It was like a snake whose venom was cold instead of hot, freezing him from within. Just why?
He glanced toward the forest, repeating the question in his mind. Just why couldn’t he stop being afraid?
Inside his study, Maedhros was working on his paperwork and reports. The work had been fine for the past weeks, but now his mind was bothered by you and Aelon.
Honestly, he felt compelled to visit again.
He wasn’t sure why. Maybe he just wanted to check things were alright with you and Aelon. He was worried when those two children came running and told you and him that Aelon was alone with two orcs of Morgoth.
His mind then returned to the promise he made with Aelon.
He shouldn't have been so careless in making promises like that. His purpose for the visit was simply to check on you two, but now, he didn't want to disappoint the boy either.
He enjoyed helping Aelon practice and hone his skills, and he also enjoyed your company. It was like you understood him without him saying anything much. You intrigued him that way.
Remembering Aelon’s pleading eyes, Maedhros took out his schedule and began to work on finding a date when he would be free of his duties.
Holding up a sketchbook and a pencil, you relax on the chair on your porch, scribbling on the paper and trying to brainstorm a suitable design for Falconer’s new saddle.
You decided to start working on a new saddle for Aelon. Initially, you tried to replicate Baleria's saddle design, but since you knew little about its construction, you scrapped the idea and only used it as inspiration for the base of the saddle.
You also needed to design it in a way so it could be modified when necessary since Falconer was still a growing dragon. Replacing the saddle every time he outgrew the previous one would be too much work and a waste of materials. And where would you even throw the previous saddles?
A sight escapes you as you stopped to collect your thoughts. You never thought designing a saddle could be so complicated.
You closed your sketchbook when you noticed Helena trying to sneak up on you.
"Ah, you noticed me again," She said in defeat.
"Try to be more silent with your steps, and don't wait too long to approach. You give too much time for your target to notice you," you advised as Helena leaned against your chair.
"Understood. Anyway, what are you doing?" She asked as she noticed your sketchbook.
"Some drawings. Dwenn and I received orders to make some saddles," you explained as you opened the page that showed horse saddles.
"Ah... by the way. I've been meaning to ask. Are you seeing someone?" Helena asked with a suspicious grin. You looked at her with a raised brow. "No…?" you questioned.
"Then who was that handsome red-haired fellow, the one who came for a visit some weeks ago?" she asked.
"Ah, he was just a friend," you answered as you focused on your sketchbook.
"Didn't seem just a friend to me," she teasingly nudged your side.
You rolled your eyes at her and continued your drawing while being pestered by her.
Aelon sat on the rocks beside the river, watching the bugs and dragonflies flying over the flowing water. His mind deep in thought.
Suddenly, something small and hard hit his head.
"Ow!" Aelon rubbed his head and looked down to see a small rock bouncing on the ground beside him after hitting him.
"And like that... you would be dead," Maedhros appeared behind him, "You should be more aware of your surroundings, or you will end up being jumped by a beast or an enemy,"
A smile plastered on Aelon’s face when he saw the elf.
"Nelyo!" Aelon said happily.
“So, what’s your purpose for your visit this time?” Aelon asked as Maedhros walked closer.
“Well, since you insisted. I decided to keep my promise and help you learn how to ride a horse. We might as well help you hone your sword skills,” Maedhros explained, and Aelon’s smile widened.
“Really? I thought you were too busy!” Aelon nearly jumped on his feet.
“My work keeps me busy most of the time, so don't expect me to visit often, but I do try to visit at least once a week. We need to maintain some kind of training schedule,” Maedhros explained, then softened his gaze as he looked at him.
“This reminds me. It seems I've arrived yet again at a time when something is troubling you since you didn't even notice me arrive,” Maedhros remarked. “So, what's troubling you this time?” he inquired.
“It’s nothing. I just …“Aelon’s mind returned to the incident with the orcs.
Aelon sighed. “It's just about the incident. I’m just tired of being in danger and afraid all the time. I never know what to do, and my hands become so cold it’s hard to focus. How can I be less afraid?” he asked.
Maedhros looked at him softly. “There’s nothing wrong with being afraid, and you can never not be afraid, especially when you’re in danger,” he answered.
“But I’m just so tired of it! Just thinking about it makes my hands cold!” Aelon flung his arms to his side.
“It can get frustrating, but the best thing you can do is keep a calm head and learn from the experience, and remember that you’re still a young child. It was a miracle how you managed to handle that one orc and chase it away with a turtle,” Maedhros said.
“I never seen someone else do something like that, so maybe you’re much more braver than you let yourself believe,” he added.
Aelon was quiet for a moment before looking up at Maedhros. “Have you ever been afraid?” he asked.
“Many times. Even I’m not immune to the fear when facing something beyond my capabilities,” Maedhros answered.
“Huh…?” Aelon thought to himself after hearing the elf’s words.
“But let’s not think about it too much. By the way, didn’t your village have a strict rule of not letting you children wander on your own? What are you doing here alone?” Maedhros questioned with a raised brow.
A giggle escaped Aelon. “I’m not,” he said.
Maedhros looked at Aelon with confusion as you quietly stepped behind him and gently blew air toward his ear. Maedhros jolted and turned around to see your smiling face.
"And what did you say about being more aware of your surroundings?" you teasingly asked.
“Ahh….” Maedhros looked away, and for a moment, you noticed some red upon the tips of his sharp ears, making you giggle at his flustered state. Seeing such a reaction instead of his usual neutral expression was a delight.
“I guess you want to help Aelon hone his skills,” you stated.
“Yes… Aelon. How about you go retrieve the training swords, so we can get started? There are a lot of things for you to learn,” Maedhros questioned. “Yes!” Aelon ran past you two, fueled by adrenaline and excitement.
You smiled at your brother’s enthusiasm.
Maedhros looked at you. “So, you were listening this whole time?” he asked, crossing his arms while bearing an amused look.
“I didn’t want to ruin the sweet little moment you two were having,” you said as you set the bucket of dirty dishes on the ground.
"So you decided on a plan to visit us to fulfill your promise?" you asked.
"Well, It would be shameful of me to make promises and not to keep them," he stated.
You smiled. “It would, but are you certain it won’t hinder your work at home?” you asked. “We would be delighted to have you visit more often, but you do not need to leave work undone because of us,” you added.
"I can make it work. My work doesn’t need constant attention," Maedhros said. “Even though I do worry if any of my brothers end up doing something incredibly foolish, which will only add more headache and work on my desk,” he added, making you giggle.
“I pray that it won’t end up happening, but the way you have talked about them last time tells me that is a common occurrence,” you said.
“More than I like,” Maedhros sighted as Aelon returned with the training swords, excited to train and duel.
“You two can get started. I need to get these dishes washed or we won’t have dinner with clean cutlery,” You said as you crouched beside the river.
“Alright, then let’s begin. Let’s use the time wisely,” Maedhros turned toward Aelon and grabbed one of the training swords with Aelon eager to duel.
Maedhros trained Aelon, the two having a strict yet cheerful training session. You felt happy as Aelon was no longer troubled by his inner turmoil, the visit of the elf obviously having cheered him up. You also laughed when your brother nearly tripped into the river several times after failing to hit Maedhros. It was a moment where an unusual friendship between you and the elf was born.
Taglist: @natchayaphorn @kimnamnu@thatrandomidiot182 @springfountain
#silmarillion x reader#silmarillion#tolkien#silm fic#middle earth x reader#when the dragons fly#hotd x reader#hotd#middle earth#silmarillion imagines#various x reader#targaryen reader#silmarillion x targaryen reader#maedhros x reader
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
- Love Is A War Series ~ Aemond x Reader
• Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
• HOTD MASTER-LIST
• FANDOMS-MASTER-LIST
Warnings: fighting, bad family dynamics, mention of sh, mention of sh scars
Synopsis: It was the night of the dreaded meal, but as you were met with one of Aemond’s gifts your heart melted, however the world wishes for it to be turned to stone. You join the meal full of toasts and hurrahs as you all rejoice in putting aside your conflicts yet, Aemond’s heart still grasp onto the strings of revenge.
------------
I smiled as I ran out into the large courtyard looking back as Jacerys chased after you, smiling himself. You slowed as you heard the magnificent beasts lift their heads with a grumble. I stopped in front of Selene. Running your hand over her smooth pale scales. The almost-white glistened in the setting sun.
As beautiful as the day she hatched in my cradle when I were just a child. Bonded for life. Under the crescent moon of old Valyria. I looked back hearing Jacerys’s footsteps grow louder and softer. Eventually they came to stop at the right side of Vermax. Selene bowed her head as I carefully got onto the saddle. It never sat comfortably.
Always felt wrong to be separated from your dragon. To feel of foreign leather instead of the familiar glistening scales. I turned to the boy he smiled and ceased to pet Vermax getting onto the saddle that sat heavy on the green-Ish dragon’s back.
He frowned watching as your eyebrows creased. “What is wrong?” The question just expressed his perplexed expression further, making you chuckle.
“It doesn’t feel natural. To ride a dragon on a saddle it feels disconnecting as if we have a right to control them. To hinder their abilities.”
I jumped off unshackling the saddle, Selene staying so still I could mistake her for a statue. The thud of boots and worried steps trampled mind, yet you never paused your quick movements the saddle finally dropping from my dragon with a great this onto the hard stones ground.
I reached out fingertips grazing over the once, hidden scales. Jacerys grabbed my wrist spinning me to face him. I lent your neck back with uncertainty.
“What are you doing?” he questioned so much fear in his fear it almost scared me.
“Setting her free. I mean you can’t tell me that thing looks comfortable. You can never truly control a dragon. Now remove your hand from my wrist...please?” He squeezed a tiny bit harder before finally letting go.
I jumped atop the dragon, unbalanced. The dragon riding armour gripped yet slid over the scales. My body jolted as Selene rose to her full height. I rested your hands gently on the ribbed black horns that travelled from the large ones on her head down her neck shrinking in size.
“Are you coming or staying?” My heart sped up as I leant forward. Selene speeding up and lifting her head, I tipped back some. Fear in my eyes. She spread her wings. Dust blowing around us as we began to fly upwards. Selene’s rasped roar echoed the sky and King’s Landing.
I could hear Jacerys’s shout of my name drifting in the wind falling behind me. I kept sliding down your dragon’s back until she evened out. Her soft belly facing the ground dusted over with the cities clouded mist. Worries melting away as the sweat from my brow cooled. The flap of wings accompanied me.
Softer than Selene’s. Clearly Vermax. The smaller therefore, faster dragon. Eventually they levelled with the two of us. I tipped my head back letting out a bellowing fit of laughter. This is what freedom feels like. The worry melted from his face. Lines no longer ageing him. Giggles of his own met the winds harsh gust. It was truly thrilling.
Leaning forward once again. Softly telling Selene to go as fast as she can in the old tongue. I fell forward with a grunt. My head hitting the bottom of her neck. The horn cutting through the leather and through my flesh. I winced. Cringing at the way it dripped down my sleeve and past my palm.
My eyes watching the way it sticks to her scales. I guided Selene to the beach my body jolting as she landed. I slid from her back. Pain shorting through my arm. Jacerys landed next to me a few seconds after. Eyes catching the blood that trickled from the thin ‘protective’ material.
“Are you alright?” I watched as he dismounted his own dragon. Marching towards me. He softly grabbed my arm. My eyebrows creasing at the shot of pain.
“I’ll be fine. The leather is sticking to me.” Slowly I began to unlace the leather garment. Not missing the way heat rose to the young boy’s face as he quickly turned around.
The heavy material fell to the floor. A sigh falling from my lips. My under shirt now the only thing protecting me from the bitter cold other than my other undergarment. My father won’t be pleased he only got this made for me recently.
I looked up, Jacerys already facing me. “Come on Y/n let’s go home the sun has already almost gone,” he spoke softly already climbing onto Vermax. I walked towards Selene. Her eyes, sorry and pleading. I softly pat her neck as I gently smiled at her. She lowered her body and I climbed on. The leather still sat on the floor in front of us.
“Dracarys,” what a waste. I mean I really quite liked that leather. The clothing was engulfed in an orange flurry of flame. “Let’s go.” I whispered as the dragon-flame-orange illuminated us.
Flying back was better. More stable now than before. This is what dragon riding should be. Freedom and flying under the already emerging stars. We landed back onto the full courtyard. Only to see our parents stood with little to none amusement on their faces.
My father marched up to me as I dismounted Selene. Wishing her a sweet goodbye as she was whisked of to the dragon pits along with Vermax. My father stood in front of me. A glare on his face. Usual posture both hands resting on his sword - dark sister.
“What were you thinking. I come out here looking for you only to fucking find your saddle on the floor and Selene gone” - he paused taking a breath looking down at my arm - “why are you in your undershirt,” he inspected me with a careful eye, “is that blood?”
I picked at my fingers as he grew more furious. His face grew a tiny of thread. Turning to look Jacerys straight into his eyes. An accusing looks on his face. He took a step forward towards the boy. Moron raised his head at his father as if it was a pissing contest. Rhaenyra threw a stern look at my father.
Rolling my eyes. I grabbed my father’s arms. “I caught my arm on one of Selene’s horns. I’m sorry for making you worry father.”
He sighed. Still clearly unhappy about the predicament. “Come now. We are to have dinner with my father and the others.” She grew quiet with the last part.
“Your grandmother Rhaenys has bought a dress with you that is currently in your quarters. I thought maybe you could wear it tonight and your sisters Baela and Rhaena await you,” she smiled.
The walk down the hall was long and bore some. The full stone growing somehow bleaker as time passes. The guards pulled the doors to my chambers open.
I was met with warmth, but no comfort. The dress sat on the bed. It was like Rhaenyra’s dresses off the shoulder and beautiful. Red with embroidered gold a dark trimmed lace corset fashioned to the bodice. Yet, next to it sat a wooden box. Intricate detailing on the top. Swirls and patterns.
I flipped the latch and opened it. Inside was a ring. Small and delicate. Golden like my necklace the dark emerald sat heavy on the metal. My eyes caught the glinting inscription with in the band. ‘forever yours and forever mine.’ I smiled my eyes creasing with love filled knowing
I threaded the ring onto my finger admiring its glow in the fire’s light. I picked up the parchment that lied beside the dainty brown box. I opened the note cursive filled my eyes, familiar and intricate each detail, just like the broach.
‘I had this made for you when I heard of your departure this morning. Each day this ring will be a reminder of our love as our necklaces warm our yearning hearts as we await the next full moon.
Forever yours, the sun to your moon
- A’
I refolded the parchment before placing it back into the box, quickly stuffing it under my bed before my father or one of the maids could find it.
------------
Awkward silence enveloped the room as we awaited the king. The only noise was the clattering of silverware and the noisy fumbling of gossiping servants. I stared forward scared to look to my right , I could feel Aemond’s piercing eye burn into my head.
The silence finally broke with the screeching scrape of the chair legs against the expensive floor boards, mahogany melancholy. We all stood still in a bubble of silence just accompanied by the rasps of the king and the continuous flutter of the servant girls that continued to bustle around us.
I sat back down hastily, instinctively reaching for the necklace that bravely shone on top of the red dress, shining in the yellow shimmer of candle light. This time it was my father’ s eyes that stared at me, my heart raced and I quickly dropped the necklace opting to stare at the food laid out before us.
“How good it is... to see you all tonight... together.” Viserys squeezed out from his tired lungs.
“Prayer before we begin?” Alicent smiled softly at her husband.
“Yes.” he smiled back fatigued and mellow to the point of exhaustion.
As Alicent droned on I looked to the side through my clasped hands in fake prayer. I observed the way the candle flickered across his pale milky skin and the way his eye lashes fluttered as he tried to pay attention.
I turned back now looking to my right Luke’s eyes already looking a me, eyebrows creased in confusion. I rolled my eyes at him laughing at the way he muttered under his breath before facing back forward only this time we both were looking at Aemond, well more I was love sick gazing and Lucerys was fearfully observing.
“...and to Vaemond Velaryon may the gods give him rest,” Alicent finished as we all sat back up. I smirked at my father as he silently laughed at Alicent’s last sentence pride smeared across his face.
“This is an occasion of celebration it seems. My grandsons will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young princes... and their betrothed.”
“Hear, hear!” my father’s voice trailed his brothers as we all raised our glasses. My wine sloshed as I toasted towards my sisters a wise smile on my face. I know how their hearts must leap in their chests.
“Well done Jace you’ll finally get to lie with a woman,” Aegon whispered. Heleana ducked her head in shame as I looked past her staring at Aegon the vile creature. Baela’s face contorted into one of anger that bubbled under the skin as Jace slammed his cup down onto the table.
“Let us toast as well, Prince Lucerys the future Lord of the Tides.” Viserys smiled fondly at the young boy.
“Hear, hear!” I said. I will admit some pride swelled with in me, but I’m willing to blame it on the wine that is steadily being drained from my cup.
The slimy man once again leant over to whisper to Jace not so subtly, or quiet, “You do know how the act is done, I assume?” I rolled my eyes disgusted, it seems Aegon has not changed his ways. “At least in principle. Where to put your cock and all that.”
“Let it be cousin,” I bargained faking a sweet straining smile on my lips which curved with slight agitated malice.
“You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed.” Jace spoke with a calmness I didn’t believe was achievable with such a man. I swivelled back around in my seat making sure to keep an eye on them especially as my sister turns back around uncomfortable with the situation.
My heart softens at the way the Queen gently rubbed the King’s back worriedly as he leaned on his cane as he rose. My breath caught in my throat as my uncle peeled the mask away from his face. Fear coiling in my stomach as I watched his empty socket watch me from afar.
“My won face...is no longer a handsome one. If indeed it ever was, but tonight I wish you to see me not just as your king, but also your father. Your brother. Your husband...and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems...walk for not much longer among you. Not us no longer hold ill feelings in out hearts. The Crown can no longer stay strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the Crown then for the sake of this old man. Who loves you all dearly.” he sorrowfully spoke staring out at us all.
Rhaenyra stood from her chair cup in hand. “I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen. I love my father, but I must admit no one has stood beside his side so loyally, as his good wife has. She has tended to him with unfailing devotion, love, honour. And for that she has my gratitude and my apology.”
Alicent gazed up at her in this lost love, “Your words moves me deeply Princess, we both mothers, love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow. I raise my cup to you and to my house. You will make a fine Queen,” we all raised our glasses ceremoniously taking a sip or in Aegons case half a glass.
I nodded along with Helaena as she tells ,me of her children and life as a mother. I jumped as the table shook under my hands as Jace slammed his own down onto the wood. “Jace,” my sister soothed hand on arm brushing lightly over the fitted material.
I snarled under my breath taking a sip of my wine as I watched the beast retreat from its prey a sickening smile on his lips. My eyes flitted up as Aemond stood from his chair, sizing up Jacerys.
The room grew silent again until Jace raised his own cup, “To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To your families good health dear uncles,” he finished before sitting back down taking a large swig of wine.
He grasped mockingly onto Aegon’s stiff shoulder before giving it a light tap with his fist, “To you as well.” Aegon said defeated as humility rang in his tone. Aemond sat down a look of disappointment as if begging for a fight, a way to get even.
“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you...except sometimes when he is drunk,” Helaena stretched out with a perky smile. My father’s laugh chuckle out across the room.
“Good,” the king smiled with pride as he looked over his reconciling family, “let us have some music.” I smiled fondly as Jace and Helaena danced with one another, my heart yearning for Aemond to hold me and dance. We all stood once again as the King was carried his wheezing gasps of pain stalking behind him.
It’s strange to grieve some one who is still with us, my ,mind wondered as we sat. Suddenly, the table slammed ferociously with Aemond’s anger. He stood from his chair quickly his glass clasped in his hand as he raised it to make a toast.
I stared at him worriedly, my eyes flicking between him and Lucerys. “I would like to make a toast. Final tribute. To the health of my nephews: Jace...Luke and Jofferey. Each of them handsome, wise...” the silence poured over us once again. “...strong.”
“Aemond,” his mother warned.
“Come let us drain our cups to these three...Strong boys.” I stared up at him in disbelief.
“I dare you to say that again.” Jace raised his head in pride ready to defend both himself and his brothers also his mother’s honour.
“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” Aemond pushed further as both men walked towards each other in large strides. I sat cup at my lips as I gulped down my wine, chocking on the liquid as Jace threw a punch.
I jumped up from the table as Aegon slammed Luke down. Cup still in hand as I watched the chaos ensue. I squeezed my eyes shut in disappointment as Aemond pushed Jace to the ground both him and Luke being dragged away by guards.
I drank from my cup once more as my eyes scanned over the room. Jacerys and Lucerys struggled against the guards grip as Alicent scolded her son. “Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud as theirs.” I walked towards my lover as Jace escaped the guards grip, but my father intervened walking between the two boys.
“Go to your quarters. All of you go now.”Rahenyra commanded. I watched beside my father as they all left before my farther stared at me.
“You as well Y/n.” He spoke eyeing me as I stood still hesitant to leave. I chewed the inside of my cheek nervously as I stared at him back.
“Yes Y/n leave or are you going to go with Aemond?” Aegon spoke from behind us. All heads turned to him. My eyes widened with fear.
“What?” Rhaenyra and Alicent said in unified confusion. I gulped thickly at the lump that has lodged itself in my thropat no longer able to breathe as fear choked me close to death.
“Oh you didn’t know? Y/n and Aemond are in love,” he stopped spinning to look around the room happy with everyone’s bewildered faces. My father was seething his eyes wide with rage as they bore inot my own “I mean I didn’t know until I saw Aemond return late this morning a moon pendant around his neck, similar to the sun that rests on Y/n’s chest, Dorne’s finest I do believe.”
“Is this true? Aemond?” Alicent questioned quietly behind her son. I walked forward intertwining our hands. Aemond turned his head towards me a small smile on his face.
“We didn’t tell you because we knew you would never approve, we were scared,” I looked around the room at everyone until my eyes melt my father’s one’s now filled with betrayal, “we were scared of how you would react we knew you would separate us.” I rasped out in desperation. My chest fluttering with fear as Aemond squeezed my hand comfortingly.
“Get out...” my father whispered dangerously as he lowered his head in humiliation as he took slow steps towards me.
“Farther,” I whispered back pleadingly, begging for forgiveness and understanding, but it fell onto deaf ears. Familiar pain shot through my veins carried by the bleak ache of adrenaline as I dug my nails into the palm of my -free- hand.
“I forbid you from seeing each other as of tomorrow morning, enjoy your time together,” he managed to squeeze out not looking at either of us.
“Daemon,” Rhaenyra tried to reason pressing a hand to his back. Jumping away as his head snapped up.
“Now...get out. Leave!” he screamed at me. His heat radiated over me in a tidal wave of rage. I leaned back eyes welling up with tears as he nose was inched away from hitting my face. He pointed towards the door red face of anger.
--------
“I’m sorry my love,” Aemond whispered into my hair as his hand played with the (y/h/c) locks at the back of my head. I sighed through my nose. Tucking further into his chest trying to forget my problems.
I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to forget my father’s face, instead trying to focus on the dull ache in the bottom of my spine as I sank further into his mattress. I fiddled with the duvet cover skimming my fingers over the plush bedding mirroring the way Aemond’s hand skimmed over my waist to the top of my thigh in a slow and steady rhythm.
“I love you,” he said gingerly into my ear. I sat up onto my elbows, his hand leaving my hair to cup my face. I gave a small smile, closing my eyes as he leaned in. Our lips pressing together in a mourning kiss of sweet symphony and sickening sympathy.
Tears began to slip from the corner of my eyes; dripping onto his auburn sheets. He pulled away pressing our foreheads together, thumb wiping away my tears. “I am forever yours just as you are forever mine.” He softly grabbed my wrist pressing my scarred palm to his chest. The ticking of his thumping heart beat under my skin, I looked up into his eye with a grateful and gentle smile.
“I love you too,” I whispered back, his lips pressed to my forehead a smile pinched at either corner. Basking, revelling in the comfort of each other’s warmth.
#aemond targaryen#aemond#targaryen#velaryon#lucerys velaryon#lucerys#jacerys velaryon#jacerys#halaena targaryen#halaena#king viserys#viserys#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenyra#queen alicent#alicent#daemon targeryan#DAD DAEMON#daemon#Aemond x Reader#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#hotd season 1#hotd#hotd fanfic#baela targaryen#rhaena velaryon
71 notes
·
View notes
Text
[16] apocalypse + ex!san + "i want this place to fucking burn."
part 15 | masterlist | part 17
a/n: 4k, warnings for a brief car accident description, a lot of violent descriptions bc a lot is happening, also i am sorry to say i am a Liar :/
-
you reach up and touch the bandage on his head. you say, "where did you go?"
"mrs. kim," san says, so very quietly. "she owed me a favor."
"so you," you grip his shoulder, if only to keep yourself steady, and san's grip on your sides tighten as if to help, "you really came back."
san looks at you with a sadness in his eyes that has your vision swimming, "i promised, didn't i? that i'd get you out of here?"
something stirs in your chest at that. something that has you shaking your head over and over.
"you should have left," you look at seonghwa, still unconscious on the floor. you look at the pit where hongjoong fell. your gaze settles on san. "you should have saved yourself, and gone back to the bunker. you should have left, san. what if we don't - what if you don't -"
he reaches up and cradles your face between his palms. for a moment, all that is left in the world is you and san. there are no sounds of squelching flesh, no bone-chilling clicking, no pain at the back of your head, no sanctuary. your breath stops in that moment, and you're afraid to exhale in case you disturb the peace you've craved for so, so long. he holds your gaze as gently as he holds your face when he says, voice firm, "we will. we will get the fuck out of here, y/n."
it's funny, you think, how those exact words have haunted you in different ways, Before and After. he's thrown them in your face not too long ago. yet now it's reassurance.
and maybe you don't entirely trust san, not after everything, but you can believe that he means this one thing at least.
"okay," you breathe, nodding.
his thumbs graze along your jaw as he searches your gaze as if this is the first time he's seen you in years. or perhaps, as if it will be his last time. then he takes a deep breath, and steps back, holding out a hand for you to take.
you take his hand.
a small part of you is convinced this is a terrible fever dream, but his hand is warm on against your palm, and you do not have any other option aside from taking his help.
you sidestep seonghwa's unconscious form. you scurry past the railings, pointedly keeping your gaze on san's back. you cannot look over the railing. you don't want to have the carnage engrained into your brain, and you certainly do not want to see chaeyoung or your mother's beady eyes staring back up at you, even if they are nearly unrecognizable remnants of who they once were.
here's the thing about disasters. there is always a quiet before the storm. a sort of peace and serenity that settles over everything. the tunnel back to the guard tower is eerie in its silence, both your footsteps echoing loudly throughout. san shoulders the blood bat, heaving open the heavy metal door you'd been pushed through. you look up, and moonlight streams through spiral staircase leading to the tower hatch. the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end as you pass. when the aliens appeared hovering through the sky, you've always felt as if there were eyes on the moon, watching your every move. now the feeling has grown tenfold.
as you both emerge from the guard tower, the night is so serene, so quiet. not even the bugs are out.
san breaks the silence first, his back still to you, your hand still in his. you stare at the bandage around his head, pitch black blood staining the white. visible even under the moonlight.
"a car is ready at the gates, y/n. the radio is there. yunho is waiting on the other end and he'll give you directions back to the bunker so -"
the peace and serenity comes crashing down.
"you really think i'm going to trust any of them?" you pull your hand from his. "after everything?"
he turns to look at you, and the moonlight casts shadows over his face. his eyes are hardened, resigned. the terror you felt in your chest starts to gather around your heart as you look at san. his eyes are still brown, you remind yourself. he is still san.
an alarm starts blaring somewhere below, near the dining hall. it's a sharp, keening noise that makes your stomach flip and every cell in your body scream at you to run.
you hear shouting, and you spot guards emerging from the guard towers down the wall. flashlights swing. people are shouting. you recognize jihyo coming out of the medical building. johnny from down the hill. mrs. kim isn't there. the walls themselves start to rattle, and the shouts from the sleeping quarters turn into sharp, startled screams. you look over, and johnny is closer. under the bright, bright moonlight, you can tell his eyes are a pitch black, even from this distance. it's as if there are two pitch black holes in his face where his eyes once were, and your stomach flips at the thought. the screaming rises from below the hill as johnny cocks his rifle over his shoulder, slowly making his way up the hill, as he shouts, "choi, what are you doing up here? now's not the time for a date!"
san pushes you the other way, towards the gate out back near the chicken coop. his tone is urgent, desperate even, "i need to find jongho. i promised i'd get him out, too."
you frown. you know he could have only promised such a thing to two people, and either option makes your frown deepen. still, you clutch his sleeve, "but jongho has one of those -"
san shakes his head, "he doesn't."
"what?"
"jongho doesn't have anything in his head. hongjoong refused to let seonghwa anywhere near him with one of those things. hongjoong... rumor has it he convinced seonghwa that living with the guilt of what jongho had done would be an added punishment. besides, after seonghwa took jongho's tongue, no alien would want his body."
the vanity of these creatures, and the realization that hongjoong kept jongho from being taken over by aliens hits you all at once. it's a vanity that feels so...familiar. so human. and it scares you more than you'd like to admit. and, to think hongjoong convincing seonghwa not to put an alien in jongho's head could have been his own convoluted way of protecting jongho. to think jongho betrayed you of his own volition. you want to be angry, but you don't think you can truly be angry at him when he lived under such circumstances. he knew about the aliens, and he was probably living in terror all these years. you think you'd have done the same thing just to ensure your survival.
you're so lost in thought, san is able to start pushing you down the hill as you walk in a daze, away from the side of the hill johnny was trudging up. johnny's attention, however, is diverted very quickly. you and san watch as he whips his head over his shoulder, before calling up, "hurry up and meet me at the sleeping quarters, san."
then he swivels and walks away. the way he walks, with a glide in his step and a rigid, halted gait makes you want to run far, far away. you consider right then taking the car san mentioned and just leaving. you can throw the radio out the window. you can drive to the other side of the country and run away from all of this. from the sanctuary and jongho and the bunker and san. you can leave.
but you're an idiot, too curious and involved for your own good. you always have been, even Before. it's why you chose to work as a paramedic back Before.
"i'm going with you."
san frowns, "you can barely walk."
"neither can you."
"y/n."
"san."
"i'm trying to save you here." san drags a hand through his blood-matted hair.
you look him in the eye and you say, "i am not leaving you. you came back for me, so i am staying with you."
san pauses, his mouth parting slightly, his brown eyes widening. his gaze flickers rapidly between yours, and you watch as his chest rises and falls with staggered breaths. then he blinks, breaking eye contact first, and the tips of his ears are red.
he fails to suppress a dimpled smile, even as he attempts for a serious expression, nodding briskly. he clears his throat, says, "i can't argue with that logic."
you're glad, because you certainly don't have the time for an argument.
there's a loud crash, the kind that sounds bone shattering. the sound of engine sputtering. glass shattering. metal crunching against metal. you'd worked car accidents Before, but nothing ever prepared you for the sound of the impact of a crash. it sounds like glass shattering and the bass of speaker crumbling all at once, but it has the ability to shake you to your very core. you and san both turn towards the impact, and it's coming from the other side of the compound, where the shipments take place. after a split second of deep silence, an explosion shakes the ground and you watch, horrified, as flames spring at the other end of the compound. from this angle, atop the hill, you can make out that a small truck crashed through the shipment gates and is now on fire. you can make out small figures running. you can hear screaming. shouting. but you can't figure out what the hell is going on.
not until the intercom to the sanctuary crackles to life, and seonghwa's uncannily polite voice echoes throughout the compound. chills run down your spine at the sound of his voice. you look at san in horror
san mutters, "fuck."
"everyone remain in your quarters. this is a code yellow." seonghwa's voice rings in your ears, "guards. you have my permission to open fire on anyone who is out past curfew. i want the traitors and intruders returned to the library. dead or alive."
traitors you understand, but intruders.
"intruders?" san voices your thoughts, spinning on his heels to squint across the compound, to the burning car and broken gate.
your heart races in your chest as you tug at san. "we don't have time to investigate that."
"what if it's...?" san trails off, his brows furrowing.
"did they tell you they'd come?"
san shakes his head.
"then we can't risk it," you say.
it takes a long, long moment for san to tear his gaze from the burning car and fighting breaking out below. the gunshots echo throughout the quiet night. san's nod is brisk, his jaw clenching.
without another word, the two of you make a beeline for the only place you think you can find jongho: the warehouse you'd met him in.
~.~.~.~.~
the warehouse is dark, cold, and eerily silent. usually those awaiting shipment or punishment would be shouting expletives, even begging for release. the metal walls were thick enough to suppress most of the sounds, but some wails still came through. it always sounded far away, like ghosts from the past crying, and the shouts would bounce through the metal ceilings and walls, making the sounds even more distant.
now, it's so, so quiet.
slowly, you and san step into the main room, where the front desk sits, and jongho kneels in front of it, hunched over. he works quietly, but you can tell his hands are moving. that he's working on something.
"jongho?" your voice echoes over and over and over until it melts into the void.
jongho looks up, his hands coming to a still. his eyes are red, and he looks so tired, but there's a volatility there you cannot ignore.
you step closer. jongho scoots back. he tries to speak, but a choke sound leaves his mouth, and you stop approaching him, your chest feeling heavy.
slowly, you kneel, until you're sitting across from him.
you look at the thing in his hand, a metal contraption that looks incredibly dangerous. you say, "i'm not going to hurt you. i'm here to help you."
he blinks, incredulously.
then he pats down his pockets until he finds his notebook and pen. his hands are trembling so hard, he drops his pen a few times, even as he scribbles quickly across a new page.
you look over your shoulder at san. san is staring at jongho, gaze wary, brows furrowed, fingers curled into tight fists at his side.
he slides the notebook across the floor, and the sound echoes all around. it's so loud. you have to squint to read the words in the dim lighting.
i betrayed you, y/n. you're not angry?
you slide it back. you can hear gunshots and shouting echoing beyond the warehouse. you speak quickly, "i'm angry, but i understand why you did it. i want to help you get out of here, still, if you're open to it."
i'm not going. i spent years setting this up. i need to fix things, y/n.
you stare at the thing in his hands as he holds it up.
"what is it?" you ask.
"a detonator. for explosives," san answers for jongho, his voice soft, breathless. sad, almost.
you look at san over his shoulder. he drags a hand through his hair, readjusting the bandages.
you look at jongho. his nod is firm.
"why?" your voice is shrill.
jongho writes, they all deserve to die. for everything they've turned their cheeks to. for everything they let happen to me and you. to all those people we sent into the fog every night. i want this place to fucking burn.
you blink, watching as jongho blinks back tears, his jaw clenched tight and fists shaking in his lap.
you scoot towards him, slowly, inch by inch, and he does not back away. as you reach out, and pluck the device from his lap, jongho does not even stop you. instead, tears escape from his stony expression. he crumbles into a million pieces before you. he doesn't put up a single fight. he never did, did he? with hongjoong and seonghwa, when they got him to betray you? he always succumbed to the whims of others.
jongho drops his head against the desk and he cries. a twisted sound of anguish leaves his mouth as he sobs and sobs. still he continues writing.
he writes, onto tear-stained pages, i need to kill them, y/n.
you wonder if that meant he needed to die with them as well. he was still in the compound. he'd made no indication that he'd escape before he detonated the explosives.
"no, you don't," you say, as gently as you can.
jongho gives in so easily, his resolve crumbling, a part of you - the angry, spiteful part of you - wonders if he's ever had an actual resolve to begin with. jongho just nods, and nods, and nods.
there are footsteps, and san crouches next to both of you, a hand settling on your back to support himself as he holds out his other hand and he says, "let's go home, jongho. yeosang and mingi are waiting for you."
jongho's eyes widen in surprise, as if to say really?
your heart softens as san nods and smiles, as jongho takes his hand and wipes the tears from his face.
you lead the way out. as you step out of the dark, quiet warehouse, the fighting outside becomes so, so loud.
you hear screaming, and you come upon the disaster the quiet before the storm had alluded before.
there's seonghwa, with yeosang in a chokehold. he stands where he does every night before a shipment, as if he will be giving another heartfelt sermon to his devoted followers. except this time, the pews are filled with five black-eyed guards with guns scattered throughout. one has wooyoung on his knees and a rifle pointed to the back of his head. he's the one shouting, the one reaching for yeosang despite the gun to the back of his head. three other guards have mingi surrounded, guns pointed at him, as he holds a rifle against the back of a guard's - it's johnny - head.
seonghwa grins when his eyes land on you, san, and jongho. he says, "did you think a little tap to the head would kill me?"
"of course not," you step forward in front of san and jongho. san grips your sleeve anyway. "i heard roaches can even survive nuclear explosions."
seonghwa's grip around yeosang's throat tightens. yeosang scowls at you in return. "i've had enough of you. of all of you. jongho -"
you step in front of jongho, blocking him completely from seonghwa's view, "leave him alone."
seonghwa rolls his eyes, "you sound like fucking hongjoong."
the safety of a rifle clicks off, echoing all around you. mingi has the rifle situated at the back of johnny's neck, digging so hard into the skin that johnny's face is smushed against the dirt. mingi is staring at seonghwa with so much hatred, it has you looking away.
yeosang, however, isn't looking at mingi. he's looking at you, and his eyes are blank, his scowl gone. you wonder briefly, if he's upset that you're the one protecting jongho even now. that you've taken his place in that aspect as well, even briefly.
seonghwa just laughs. his laugh is loud, boisterous, and fills the quiet of the sanctuary. he says, "pathetic."
the world is quiet, so so quiet. for only a moment.
before all hell breaks loose.
bang.
you yelp at the jolting sound of the rifle going off. the bullet lodges into johnny's skull, and blood and brain matter and black liquid splatters everywhere. you can tell none of the guards expected mingi to actually shoot johnny. the impact of the bullet causes mingi to spring back, the end of the rifle smoking. he's splattered in blood and gore, from head to toe. one of the other guards - jihyo, you realize - blinks rapidly, and the darkness in her eyes disappears, returning to that welcoming brown, the kind eyes that would give you extra food during breakfast, and she gags. it hits you then, that these guards are the same as san had been. they have aliens controlling them. they're humans underneath. and if johnny getting his brains blown out before them can make the aliens lose control, then that means they care about each other. that means they're capable of caring.
that's something that sticks with you, even as your ears continue to ring at the blast of the rifle, and you stare and stare at the blood that had found it's way to your shoes.
seonghwa shrieks, so so human-like, "what the fuck have you done?"
yeosang twists seonghwa's arm then, back back back, and tosses him on the ground. mingi points the gun at seonghwa.
yeosang's eyes remain on mingi only. even as he nods.
mingi cocks the gun.
but then he tosses it to the side and lunges at seonghwa, punching him hard. wooyoung grabs the tossed rifle and turns on the guard behind him, smacking him across the face with a sickening crunch. then he pulls a knife from his boot and slices his throat like he's slicing fruit. yeosang rolls away, heaving as he watches mingi punch seonghwa. as seonghwa punches back.
another guard points his rifle at yeosang. you're not sure why you do it. yeosang hurt you, and you have no business watching out for him. but you pull yourself from san's grip and tackle the guard to the ground, just as he shoots, and the bullet misses. san and jongho disarm the other two shortly. you don't know this guard, but his eyes are no longer black, and his eyes are distraught, tearful even. they care so much for their own, you realize, and it fuels the anger that's lived on for months deep inside of you.
yeosang blinks at you when he realizes what you've done. you put the guard in a chokehold, targeting pressure points you learned from Before that puts people to sleep. yeosang calls, over the shouting and yelling, "thanks."
you scowl, "don't thank me yet. i still have time to make sure you get your shit rocked."
yeosang snorts, but he nods.
and then, a low keening screech fills the silence. you look over, and seonghwa has mingi on his back, fingers curled around his throat. mingi tries to pull seonghwa's fingers from his throat, but he can't. he's spluttering for air, choking. but the sound isn't coming from him.
it's not coming from the prison speakers.
it's coming from above. from all around them.
the clicking comes next, mixing with keening. it sounds like a heavy metal door opening and closing mixed with the clicking pincers of those creatures from the pit. every hair at the back of your neck stands on end. every single cell in your body screams for you to run. instinct tells you you are merely prey for whatever the hell is making that noise.
the ground shakes under your feet. slowly, you get up off the unconscious guard beneath you.
the voice sounds just like the one you heard in your head, when that creature tried to take you over. like a million voices mixed into one, echoing all around you, ringing and bouncing off every surface, encompassing you. the voice rang under your skin, in your bones. the voice sounds like a million voices, like god himself, but there's a single voice that lives above all that. that sounds vindictive and angry and so full of hate it makes you scramble away. san and jongho step back. wooyoung yanks yeosang back, away from mingi and seonghwa.
it's hongjoong's voice.
he says, "get off him."
before anyone can react, a dark rigid tentacle-like limb shoots out from the darkness and yanks seonghwa up by the head, wrapping around his neck and jaw. for a moment seonghwa hovers in the air, arms and legs flailing, before he's lobbed into the ground. then the rest of the creature saunters into the moonlight, out of the dark fog around you. beady, familiar eyes meet yours as slithering limbs crawl from the darkness, surrounding all of you. situated above the beady, familiar eyes, is hongjoong. you can't see his legs, and your stomach churns at the possibility that maybe he doesn't have legs anymore. because his torso melts into the black limbs of the creature, and his head sits at a strange, almost broken angle, and his hands wrap around the creature, a caricature of a hug, and you realize oh this is chaeyoung, and for a moment you can't tell if hongjoong is alive or dead, a remnant of who he once was or alive and clinging to chaeyoung, or even just a dead trophy, like a taxidermy deer.
but then he smiles, and he looks so, so alive.
you think you're going to throw up as you watch the black tentacle-like limb lift seonghwa from the ground once more, still wrapped around his head.
as seonghwa says, in a voice you've come to learn is the real seonghwa, without the polite alien, and his voice is choked, losing volume the longer he speaks. his words slur, and they're drawn out, mixing with clicks and screeches of the creature, "please kill me. joong, chae, please. someone - sang? jongho? mingi?"
hongjoong's laugh fills the silence, echoing over seonghwa's very human begging.
165 notes
·
View notes
Text
adam warlock: man? child? bug?
masterlist
summary: an analysis of the debate on adam warlock’s age and whether it’s appropriate to write smut about him.
word count: 1.4k
warnings: this is a rant that no one asked for nor needed to hear so read at your own risk
a/n: the second part of my will poulter content for today, since our boy is 31 today!!!!!!!!!!
𝗜 𝗦𝗔𝗪 a post the other day that said something along the lines of, “writing fanfiction about Adam Warlock may be tempting, but you shouldn’t, because he’s a child trapped in a man’s body. The body is nice; the mind is a child.” And while I understood the point that this person was trying to make and totally respect their decision to not write smut for Adam Warlock, it made me think more about this whole issue as a whole: the idea of Adam’s age and how, as fans, we should think of him.
See, there are two sides to this argument, from what I’ve seen. There’s the “he’s an adult physically but a child mentally” camp, and then there’s the “he’s a childish adult who’s inexperienced” camp. And I see the arguments for both, and they both have a point—which is why I’m not so sure it’s that simple. I don’t think there is a black and white answer when it comes to Adam’s age. There are several different ways we can interpret Adam’s character in terms of age, and I think that it should be up to each writer to decide how they personally interpret the character. I also think that no one should be shaming someone else for the interpretation they are set on, because it’s such a gray area.
This is why I wanted to explore this whole debate more. So I spent a lot of time analyzing it, and now I’m going to explain my stance on Adam Warlock’s age and how that affects how I will write about him. I am not saying this is the “correct” stance; like I said before, it’s simply my personal interpretation. The two paragraphs above are my plea for kindness in our fandom. The paragraphs below are my personal conclusions that you do not have to agree with at all.
First of all, if you ask me if Adam Warlock is a man or a child, I would tell you that it’s not that simple. In my mind, his age cannot be labeled by a simple black and white term because his situation is so complex. The best term, for now, would most likely be “man-child” because he has characteristics of both. The lore tells us that Adam Warlock is one of the Sovereign, a race created by the High Evolutionary to be perfect. Adam Warlock was supposed to be the ultimate “model” of this race; the perfect man, but the High Evolutionary took him out of his cocoon too early, so he was unable to finish growing.
This idea that Adam was taken out of his cocoon too early and therefore is a child comes from this lore. I can understand where this assumption that early out of the cocoon=child comes from, but I don’t personally believe it and don’t think it’s true for several reasons. One, when we first see Adam, he is in the body of a fully grown man, which, if he is a child, either means that he was only taken out of his cocoon a tiny bit too early, or that he was fully grown in the cocoon but simply hadn’t hatched yet. Neither of these options make much sense, especially when we see that the High Evolutionary loves efficiency. What seems more likely to me is that Adam was indeed full grown but had not undergone all of his intellectual and common sense development yet—but only the development needed to make him smarter and trickier than humans. He’d already developed enough to act as a normal Sovereign citizen, but he was supposed to develop even better intelligence and did not get the chance. If we think back to the early appearances of the Sovereign, they all act very similar to Adam Warlock. They have enough smarts to function, but hold childish habits that include arrogance, pettiness, and the inability to see how their actions affect other people. So by this theory, it seems that Adam is a fully grown man with similar deficiencies to the rest of his people who hasn’t had much life experience yet.
To add on to this point, let’s talk about the actual cocoon part. When we see insects or other creature form cocoons in nature, the cocoon does not serve the function of birthing the creature or holding it when it is a child. A caterpillar goes into a cocoon once it is full grown to transform into a butterfly—to emerge in its true, glorious form. Adam may have done more developing than just young adulthood in his cocoon, but the end result was still the same—he went in so that he could emerge as an adult in his true form. Only instead, he was taken out before he could fully transform into a butterfly—or in this case, super smart. It’s as if a full grown caterpillar went into a cocoon and then came out a few days later with a teeny-tiny, useless pair of wings, but still very much a fully grown caterpillar (not a butterfly). He’s fully grown, he just wasn’t given the opportunity to reach maximum potential. By this theory, it seems that Adam is a fully grown man who hasn’t been able to reach his full potential yet.
So if we’ve established that Adam being taken out of his cocoon early does not necessarily equal Adam being a child, then let’s move on to how he acts, because that’s another huge point of contention. I obviously already touched on my belief that he acts just like the rest of the Sovereign, so I’ll skip that. I understand the opinion that Adam acts like a child, but like I’ve stated above, I simply think he acts childish—which is different, yes. Sure, he thinks Rocket is a puppy—I might, too, if I can’t really see what the animal is as it’s crawling all over me and I have an overbearing mother who doesn’t let me leave the house. Sure, he doesn’t understand how his actions hurt other people—how is he supposed to know? He hasn’t been given the opportunity to learn, and he’s controlled by a sadist and an overbearing mother. Sure, he calls his mom “Mummy” and cries into her arms—I’m an adult woman, but I still call my mom “Mama” and cry into her arms. Just because he’s a guy doesn’t mean he can’t love his mom. All of these habits he has may be childish, but they don’t automatically make someone a child, just like the cocoon argument doesn’t automatically make me a child.
Side note, but it almost seems as if he has a lot of similar traits and habits as female characters in Marvel as well, but he’s the only being called a child because he’s a soft male character who shows emotions and isn’t strong all the time. It’s like the internet hating on Peeta Mellark for being “weak” all over again, as if Peeta isn’t everything some of us want. Anyways.
Moving on to the next piece of this, I have to start with a question: if Adam Warlock is a child’s mind inside a grown man’s body…when will he have a grown man’s mind? Will he ever? Will his “child’s mind” continue to grow until it “catches up” to his body? If not, is he stuck as “a child’s mind” forever? Who gets to decide when he will have a grown man’s mind? Is it fair to try and put limits on this fictional character’s ability to experience the world because you’ve decided that having childish habits makes you a child?
See, at the end of the day, this is what frustrates me the most with those who are trying to gatekeep Adam Warlock as a child. Because they call him a child trapped in a man’s body and then stop there. They don’t—or can’t—address the implications or complications of their claim. They don’t dig deeper, instead taking the issue at surface level, and then don’t address the fact that their argument doesn’t make sense unless they can answer the above questions. And it’s okay if they want to leave it at a simple level like that, but if they are going to shame people for writing for Adam Warlock and then claim that Adam is a child, then the burden of proof rests on them to prove it without using the same old claims and half-assed evidence.
Thank you for listening to my TED Talk. Whatever you decide to write or not write for Adam Warlock, may you find the motivation and words needed to make it awesome. I believe in you!
#adam warlock#marvel#will poulter#will poulter's birthday#happy birthday will poulter#adam warlock marvel#guardians of the galaxy#adam warlock character study#analysis#character study
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ilmatari gang Ilmatari gang Ilmatari gang
I gotta know about Ilmatari gang!
ohohoh....
the document in itself is like fragments and notes, but in all honesty, i should just take the opportunity to finally talk about all these guys.
under a cut because it's entirely self indulgent. and got incredibly fucking long.
So Marduk's clan is a group of dragonborn that left Tymanther some 50 years ago, eventually settling in the Lower City of Baldur's Gate. Along the way, some of them stumbled upon the Church of Ilmater, and took up vows in His name. Father Anum was one of them, the cleric that would become the elder of the clan years later.
I use the word clan here, but this particular clan is not your typical dragonborn community in that they aren't blood-related. You'll find almost every scale colour from chromatic to metallic to everything in between.
The clan runs a sick house/soup kitchen in the name of Ilmater in the Lower City, open to all who need it. Not all of them are sworn into the service of the Broken God, but most have some loyalty to Him, in their own way. Once in a while, the paladins and clerics of them are called out in service of the Church, hunting cultists and conjurers of evils that threaten the peace of the city.
It was on one of those raids that Father Anum, then still a lay-brother of the church, infiltrated the hideout of a small cult of Tiamat. After having cut down the cultists, his party uncovered a set of five dragonborn eggs. One for each of Tiamat's chromatic heads.
Anum was compelled to bring the eggs back to the city, despite his bretheren's call to destroy them. They were innocents in this, he argued. How could you blame these eggs for what the cultists were going to do with them, whatever that was?
So he brought them back, housed them in the rookery at the sickhouse, and one by one they hatched into tiny squeaking babies. Black, followed by white. Followed by blue and red at almost the same time.
But the 'green' one refused to hatch. I say 'green' because that's what the cultists assumed, in their attempt to gather chromatic eggs for their draconic goddess. Anum knew better though, knew that the green that covered the egg was just a patina, a coating of oxidation that concealed the true metallic nature of this egg.
It took the bronze egg several more months to hatch, and only after the eldest of the clutch, the black dragonborn with his fiery green eyes, took it upon himself to snuggle up with the egg every night. Watched over his little cousin with the patience of Ilmater himself, until one crisp autumn day, the egg finally hatched.
Anyway. Enough rambling. Here's the Ilmatari gang, in decreasing order of age.
*~*
Enki
Black Dragonborn | Monk | Way of the Open Hand | Broken One
Although he's the oldest, he doesn't fucking act like it. Always quick with a smile and a laugh, dragging the others into wild shenanigans, he's the trickster of the lot, much like his real life namesake.
Has broken more bones than he can count. Kneecaps can tell when it's going to rain.
Despite his chaotic personality, he looks out for the rest of the kids like they're his own. Gives sound advice too. The others adore him, though they won't say it to his face.
Enlil
White Dragonborn | Ranger | Hunter
Stoic, surly, prefers his own company most of the time. Dragonborn faces are hard to read, but you'll be hard pressed to find any emotion other than practiced nonchalance on Enlil's face.
His familiar is a raven, as yet unnamed.
Out hunting most of the year, bringing back game for the soup kitchen's pantry.
Inanna
Blue Dragonborn | Bard | College of Creation
Luthier, owns a shop in the Lower City.
Loves making things, hyperfocused to a fault. Often disappears for weeks on end when working on a new project, and has to be dragged out of the shop by one of her many cousins.
Gula
Red Dragonborn | Cleric of Ilmater | Life Domain
Works at the sick house, specialises in labour and childbirth, but has a hand in all other forms of magical healing.
Exasperated, overworked, absolutely cannot stand Enki's shenanigans. Will flip him ass over teakettle if he's annoying her. (Which is very often.)
Marduk
Bronze Dragonborn | Paladin of Ilmater | Oath of the Ancients
It's my girl. The youngest of the lot, and acts that way.
The others may bicker and fight with each other, but they agree on one thing. Everybody loves Marduk and would die for her.
So yeah. Thats the Ilmatari gang.
#i know the thing was like 'post wips' and i ended up writing most of this from scratch for this ask#but fuck it it's a wip in my head#that i just had to put down#meera talks#marduk#enki#enlil#inanna#gula#lmao so many tags#my writing#asks#anotheropti
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
I love your eldritch abomination AU so much!
When darling eventually ends up bonding with Ingo and Emmet and becoming a bit eldritch themselves (if that’s what ends up happening) I would assume that they take on characteristics of both twins.
Now the logical conclusion of that is of course, gray- but consider:
White scales and black feathers
The answer of what Darling becomes is a bit too unique for me to write well, I fear- Because Darling would get some funky weirdness going on, but it would be unique to the individual person.
Eldritch beings can be incomprehensible, non euclidean hypercubes from the nth dimension, or they can be the scary shadow figures in the corner of your vision-
They can sometimes look like words on a page, or patterns in a wallpaper. They can be as ghostly as the wind or as a solid as a block of steel-
They can be many, they can be few- They can be one, or perhaps there is none- Just an empty husk of something, like a machine-
But for You, dear reader-
What would you imagine yourself becoming?
Their power is heavily influenced by thoughts- Wishes and dreams-
So if you were to think something would happen, then- Well, by their power-
It might just be.
Personally if I do write Eldritch'd Darling- I'd imagine they stay pretty much entirely human, but personality wise they start finding themselves... acting different.
You don't particular care to hang out with friends as much.
Time seems to be moving... faster, or slower- You can't decide. It feels like just yesterday it was last month, or that this hour has been going on all day. People talk to you- Or at least, you think so. Their mouths are certainly moving- And everything seems oddly... dull. Yet wonderful at the same time. The world as a whole is less of what you live in and more of a curiosity- Like some beautifully crafted stained glass that you're admiring, and will pass by anytime soon.
Darling may take on some characteristics of their soul-bound beloveds. Despite the dullness of so many things, you love other things you never noticed so very much now. Spring comes and you're elated to see the budding of new life, fascinated to watch a pidove nest of eggs hatch outside Gear Station- Emmet's watching with you, enraptured.
When time stretches on, you aren't bothered by it. Even if the minute dragged on for a thousand years, it's only a minute- And it will eventually end. You flip between being oddly patient- And horribly impatient. Ingo comforts you- Reminding you that everything has it's time, no matter how long it must take.
"When do I start turning into a cool monster like you guys?"
Ingo looked up at you, you being seated in his lap- It was their favorite way to hold you. "Whatever do you mean, Dear?"
"You said I'd... have... some changes after you did that soul-bond thing- But to be honest, I just feel a little... weird."
Ingo's hand went up to your face, brushing back the edges of your hair. "You mean you thought you'd... turn into... something like myself, or like brother-?"
"I mean, a little bit." You said- Trying not to sound too disappointed. Ingo sighed, yet his eyes- Were oddly dark. To take away your humanity- All of it- Both of mind and body-
His grip on your waist tightened, his other hand grabbing your head- Lightly, yet firmly. The shadows about him gathered dark and deep, wispy shades of black smoke trailing from them as they grew long around your dear soulmate-
"Well, my little human-" The voice of the demon rumbling dark and deep-
"Why don't you tell me what you'd like to be?"
131 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Queen in Black
"Hey. Hey, wake up."
Adrian opened his eyes, only finding a few hours of sleep before his 'uncle' woke him. Jaune Arc stood over him, a maelstrom of negative emotions roaring in his eyes. But no tears. He never had any tears.
"It's time to get up." Jaune said. "It's-"
"I know." Adrian interrupted. "I can feel her coming." He climbed out of bed, quickly finding his shoes and putting them on. He followed Jaune out the door to the bunker below. His mothers were nowhere to be seen, no doubt already evacuated before he fell asleep. "Are my moms going to be okay?"
"They're in Atlas." Jaune replied. "If there's anyone in this world I can trust to keep them safe, it's your aunt Weiss." A click in his ear went off, and Nora spoke to him. Adrian could hear her rattling off about her bombs going off, signaling the start of the attack. Jaune nodded. "Understood."
"How long will I be in here?" Adrian asked as Jaune stood at the hatch.
"Not long, Adrian. I promise."
"Please come home alive," Adrian's eyes welled with tears, "I love you, Dad."
"I love you, too, Adrian." Jaune shut the door, leaving Adrian alone in the darkness. With his Grimm blood pulsing through his veins, the boy laid himself down, and hoped this was all a nightmare, and he would wake up.
It was all Adrian could do until Salem arrived.
---------------------------------------------------
"I will make this simple," Salem crooned, her monsters swarming from beneath her foul shadow, "bring me Arc, and I shall make this as quick and painless as possible!"
"I'm right here, Salem!" Jaune roared as he charged forward, slaying Grimm left and right with ease. His hair was bone white, and his skin ivory with the blackest of eyes tainted only by the pools of blood-red irises centered within.
Of course, Salem intended for him to get close. He tossed a grenade at her, where it exploded into a blue barrier. With little more than a lazy swipe, her claws tore through the hard-light structure. It was then that Jaune came down with his sword.
"Ah, here you are, little one." Salem said in an almost sing-song voice. She had a wicked smile across her face, as all witches do. She clicked her tongue as she held his throat, as though she were a very, VERY disappointed grandmother. Although, such an analogy was not too far from the truth. "So much life, and yet so easily snuffed."
She then paused, as though she were working a puzzle in her mind. She then chuckled. "Ah, now I remember you. You were the one who slew my Nuckelavee. Impressive work, my dear descendant."
"Wh-What are you talking about?!" Jaune choked out. "You came for me!"
"Ah, my apologies. Do forgive your dear ancestor." She shook her head, then brought him closer, reveling in the horror in his eyes. "I should have specified which Arc."
Jaune eyes widened with the most terrifying of terrors. "N-NO! LEAVE MY SON ALONE!" He thrashed in her grip, finding her claws digging deeper into his pale flesh. "Your fight is with me! I'M the one you want! FIGHT ME!"
With a separate and free hand, Salem dug her fingers deep into the skin of this host. Soon, his ivory skin receded to his human tone, albeit much paler than usual, and his hair to it's usual golden locks. As he continued his writhing, Salem took note of the shield in his hand. His family crest staring back at her. She returned her gaze to his eyes, finding rage mixed with his fear. She felt no pity for this creature. No anger. No malice. No hatred. She looked at him, and saw only a nuisance.
"No." With an agonizing sound akin to the tearing of flesh, the black tar of Jaune's Grimm seed was ripped from his chest, as ebony ichor dripped from the gaping wound in his armor. Just as the day he was born, the warrior screamed in bloody, excruciating pain. Jaune Arc was human once more. "Remember this for as long as you can remember, little one, for it will be the last words you will hear. I will take your child as easily as I have taken mine." Jaune wheezed, his entire being in shock from the torture he suffered. "And I have no use for a human in my affairs."
"N-No..." Jaune mustered his strength to speak. "Please... don't..."
With a flick of her wrist, the nuisance was gone, sent far and over the horizon of her view. She stepped forward, approaching the city, her army snarling and howling around her with anticipation. Then she stopped, and sighed.
"How hard is it to kill one man?"
#rwby#rwby au#marvel#the king in black#jaune arc#adrian cotta arc#salem#jaune is a descendant of salem#jaune is salem's descendant theory#grimm jaune#grimm jaune au#king in black
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
{✮~*~A Feathered Menace~*~✮}
Story written and Artwork created by: Vibrant-the-Artist
✮Enjoy!✮
I don't need them.
The thought had burned into Voidwalker's mind- branded, even. It stayed in the forefront of her thoughts, it sent white-hot rage coursing through her body every time the memory played, ravaging her mind on a destructive loop. By now, it'd become a blur of shouting. She couldn't recall much else of it anymore. Just that the argument had been the last straw.
All she knew right now, was that she didn't need the clan in her life anyway. She could live her life just fine on her own.
...Right?
Where would I even- No, don't think like that. That's a coward's way of thinking. Voidwalker snarled to herself. You'll find somewhere. You have to find somewhere. Anywhere but back to them. You don't need them. For the god's sake, you can do this on your own!
Voidwalker, once again, began to stalk forward with her shoulders hunched. The leaves were rustling, murmuring against her ears alongside the naturally eerie winds of ShadowBeaver's Domain. branches that she had to push through creaked in warning when she shoved them out of the way, almost like they were advising her against trying to venture out.
That didn't stop her. You don't need anyone or anything getting in your way!
Where to go was something to worry about later. Who cared where she went? Her parents, probably. But she didn't care about that. In fact, Voidwalker went on, smacking a stray mushroom with her tail and watching as the glowing plant flew into the darkness. I hope that I never have to see their mugs ever again.
...
The ground beneath her talons began to turn mushy, and soft; the glowing giants of WispWillow Grove had become fewer and fewer, indicating that she was no longer in a place where the grove's mushrooms could shoot up to challenge the trees. Followed by this: the dark pine trees that she knew so well were beginning to give away as also, and VoidWalker caught glimpses of the long, drooping vines of swamp trees instead.
She stopped, did she want to go this way? She wasn't a fan of that bog that some other dragons called home. Driftwood Drag was messy! No, she'd go the other way. She preferred the other way. Anyway but into that swamp, really.
Then again, going east wasn't an option either: if there was one thing that VoidWalker hated more than the swamps, it would be LightWeaver's domain. Leaving the only real option being going to the Earth flight.
Then again, that wasn't so bad: she could make a pitstop at the Plague domain that way, maybe do some studying. Wander for a bit, maybe-
"Bap!"
What in the name of ShadowBinder was that? Voidwalker swung her head around, she scanned the area with a sharp crimson gaze.
There, she spotted the rustling of dark leaves. The skeletal-looking dragon spread her wings to appear bigger and curled her lip back into a snarl at whatever was stalking her. They'd be in for a world of pain if this was some sort of sick joke!
What tumbled out of the bush was no dragon. In fact, Those were not the talons or feathers of any dragon she'd seen.
It was a tiny thing, too small to be a newly-hatched. Its feathers were jet black, shimmering blue in the cold light around them. Accompanied by a red accent on its head and wings.
What also solidified this thing as 'anything but a dragon', had to be the presence of a beak.
A grphyon! Voidwalker realized she was fascinated by the creature for a moment; before her blood ran cold. Where ever there was a baby, there'd be a momma to follow. With this in mind, she began to slowly back away. No thanks, I don't think I can take on a fully grown gryphon yet.
However, as VoidWalker turned away to go in the opposite direction. She could hear the little Pit, pat, rustle, rustle! of the gryphon trying to follow her.
She stopped in her tracks and sighed, turning back around just in time to see the baby tumble over a jagged root and skid to a stop in front of her.
VoidWalker bent down with her lip curled back once more and huffed in its face, her breath made its feathers ruffle back. All this achieved was a squeal, followed by the little monster spreading its own wings and jumping at her!
Voidwalker yelled out, tiny talons dug into her nose. The shook her head, trying to get the darn thing off, but to no avail. The baby gryphon just clambered onto her snout and made itself right at home!
"Alright, listen you!" She snarled as she reached up a talon and lifted the feathered menace off of herself.
"You need to go back to your mother, because I'm not getting my talons ripped off by some angry gryphon who thought I was trying to eat her baby. Got it?" She set it down on a root and turned to leave again, picking up her pace to try and make some distance between herself and the creature.
Once again, she heard the pitter-patter of tiny talons following her. VoidWalker groaned, she didn't have time for this! She turned around and slammed her talons into the ground. "Get!" She growled, glaring down at the gryphon. "Leave! Leave me alone! Get out of here! Go home!"
And yet, it did not move. It just... Stared at her, with these glowing red eyes.
Well, it had guts. She'd give it that.
"Ghhhh, fine," Voidwalker grunted, scooping the fledgling up into her talons and twisting back to nestle it between her shoulders.
"Only until I reach the entrance of Earth Shaker's Domain. Then you need to skitter back off into the woods, got it?"
...
Needless to say, the baby never ended up 'skittering back off' into the woods.
------
If you like my artwork, you can always message me for a commission: As of currently, they're open!
#flight rising#fr fanart#fr dragon art#fr mirror#fr story#fr writing#fan writing#short story#wholesome story#dragon#dragons#fr artists#flight rising mirror
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
He was not going great in the sewers, but Yoshi would have never had it any other way. All his four boys where sleeping in a basket that had a small pink blanket so they could be comfortable, Yoshi has only been getting supplies from dumpsters and alleyways so they don't have much but it still works
They have been running low on food and Yoshi will need to go out to get more food, better drone than later, yeah? He puts down the basket gently and makes sure his boys are still sleeping, "see you soon my boys", he hasn't gotten the chance to name the little ones yet, he will decide on it fate he gets some more food though
He walks to a sewer cover and opens it, leaving it open so if he carries to much food he wont need to set it down to open the hatch. The ally he is in right now has already been searched for food a while ago when he first came to the sewers, he puts his cloak hood up and dashes out of the ally into the closest ally beside it, he finds a half eaten banana that hasn't gone Brown yet, but that's all he can find in that ally
He dashes to another ally and finds a big dumpster, he opens the dumpster lid up and looks inside, nothing, it must-have been emptied a bit ago considering there wasn't even a piece of paper in it, what bad luck, Yoshi sighs and looks a bit around the ally, also nothing, he gets out of the ally and is prepared to dash to another one when a human cries out "AHHH!! GIANT RAT THING!!!! HEEELP!!"
Many people start gasping and screaming at Yoshi, he dashes to another ally faster than any times before, the humans still see him though and they call someone on their phones
Yoshi quickly searches for a sewer gate, none, that's not good!!
Sirens sound out and police cars park near the ally, many officers come out of multiple police cars and back people away while pointing their guns at Yoshi, ready to fire If he even moves an inch
A police officer says "hands in the air!" Yoshi raises his hands, the policemen cuff Yoshis wrists and ankles and get him into a police car quickly, many people are filming, one of the officers pulls out a syringe and says "this won't hurt a bit.." they put it into his arm and he immediately starts getting tired and he passes out
___
He wakes up in what looks like a hospital room, Yoshi looks around, the door to the room hes in opens and in comes someone wearing an EPF uniform, they say "Hamato Yoshi, also known as the famous Lou Jitsu, you have illegally went into the sewers and also stole many items from stores, you have also turned into a giant living rat.. we cannot have you stealing anything more or causing chaos"
Yoshi starts begging "please- let me go! I can't be here! I can't die!!" The EPF man sighs, suddenly Yoshi blacks out again, then he feels a horrible stabbing pain in his chest, he screams bloody murder as he feels something wet and sticky trail down his chest, it starts getting harder and harder to breathe, until eventually, everything goes white
He hopes his boys are okay... he didn't even get to say goodbye... good luck, my boys.. stay safe..
Masterpost
#Rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#hamato yoshi#Blood#Death#Sad#Splinter dies#dead splinter#turtle tots#Poor splinter#EPF#earth protection force#sad au#rottmnt au#alternate universe#Raised By A Brother#Raised By A Brother au#RBAB#AU
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Song of Dreamers - (Prologue)
Hey, It’s been awhile. I know that a lot of you follow me for Outlander content and Outlander fanfiction, but honestly my head hasn’t been there for awhile. I do miss all of the fics I had ongoing for that fandom, but it just doesn’t hold the same space in my heart as it used to. Hopefully, one day I will come back to writing those fics, but for now I’m moving on from it.
For the past few years, I’ve been heavily hyperfixating on ASoIaF and the universe that George RR Martin has created, especially Daenerys Targaryen and House Targaryen. I can’t count the number of other fics I’ve read, art I’ve seen, and people I’ve interacted with in this fandom. I’ve done and still do A LOT of ASoIaF RP on Discord and that’s where all of my writing has been. And now with House of the Dragon out, that obsession has only increased. So, writing a fanfic for this fandom and this universe has been something I’ve wanted to do for a few years now, especially for Robb and Daenerys (because I ship them even though I know they’re a super rare pair and it’ll never happen in canon, I think they’d be great for each other, idc.) I still have absolutely NO IDEA where I am going to go with this fic, but I’ll figure it out as I go along, hopefully.
So, without further ado, I hope you all enjoy the read :)
(BTW, I haven’t really been active on tumblr at all lately, but I’m super active on Twitter if anyone wants to follow me over there! I post art there too! Check it out here)
≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫
Daenerys wants nothing more than to go home. Sometimes, she imagines what Dragonstone is like, remembers the tales her brother told her of the place she was born that she could not ever hope to remember. A place where dragons had hatched and lived and died. Where her ancestors came before the Doom of Valyria and made their home before Aegon and his sisters looked west and conquered the Seven Kingdoms. Before they built the Red Keep in King’s Landing at the mouth of Blackwater Bay and ruled for nearly three centuries. Yet Dragonstone had never been home to her, not really – despite how much she tried to cling to the idea of that being true.
Before, home to her had always been the house in Braavos with the red door and the lemon tree outside her window. Of evenings spent looking out at the sea and the breeze carding through her hair. Of Viserys spinning tales of home and comforting her when she had bad dreams before he had gone mad.
Yet when Dany dreams she does not see the house with the red door or her lemon tree. She does not see the black sand beaches or the smoking Dragonmont on Dragonstone. She doesn't even see the tall grasses of the Dothraki sea. No, when Dany dreams she is transported to another world altogether: a land of hills and moors covered in white with a gray sky above it. She dreams of tall trees with leaves like needles, of a chill in the air that nips at her skin despite her heat – and the only sound that can be heard is the howling of wolves. And for some reason, this strange place felt more like home to her than the house with the red door and her lemon tree ever had.
≪ ◦ ❖ ◦ ≫
Robb wants nothing more than to go home. Back to Winterfell with its warm halls and familiar faces. Back to where everything was familiar and carefree and safe. He wants to leave this war that even though he is winning, the end of it seems to forever be just outside of his grasp. With each day that passes, he is unsure that he will ever get to see Winterfell again. Will never be able to visit the Godswood where his father would sit beneath the bone-white bark of the Weirwood tree and sharpen Ice. Where Grey Wind and the rest of the direwolves had raced and hunted and grew. Where he might never get to visit the crypts of the Lords and Kings of Winterfell that came before him – never get to see his father’s likeness carved among them.
He does not know if his brothers or Arya are alive, doesn’t know how much longer Sansa will be safe in the grasp of the Lannisters in King’s Landing. Yet when he dreams and finds himself looking at the world through Grey Wind’s eyes, sometimes he can still feel the pull of Summer and Shaggy Dog far off in the North, where Ghost is, too. There’s another wolf that is closer, whom he knows must be Nymeria. When he wakes, he tries to hold onto that feeling – convinces himself that if their wolves are out there, then Bran and Rickon and Arya are still alive, too – somewhere, out of reach.
Sometimes when he dreams there’s something else too, something he cannot name or place. Something that smells of fire and ash and brimstone, of heat. He feels a pull towards that too, somewhere far off and across the sea to the east that is perhaps even stronger than that of the other direwolves. And when Robb wakes, the only word that he can put to that feeling that even comes close to describing it, is home.
#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf fanfiction#game of thrones#game of thrones fanfiction#GoT#daenerys targaryen#robb stark#daenerys x robb#robb x daenerys#fanfiction#also on ao3#canon divergence#mine#internallydeceased
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
look I like pokemon scarlet. I think it's fun. It's just the little things that frustrate me to no end.
Like the boxes. How did they mess those up so bad? They were perfectly fine in Sword and Shield, it was a done job. And yet somehow they've managed to fuck it up so badly that if a Pokemon's icon hasn't loaded, it'll just show up as nothing, or worse, the wrong Pokemon entirely. And this happens everywhere. In the bag, in the pokedex, hell, even in the damn TM maker.
What's worse is the Tera Raid battles. I could go on and on about how unfair I think tera raid battles are but instead I'll just focus on the glitches. Plural. Like the non-functional health bar. How fucking hard is it to make a fucking health bar that isn't WRONG. ALL THE TIME.
Tera raid battles are bad enough without having no idea how much health your opponent had left. And that's not even mentioning the camera glitches, online raids being a mess, the Pokeball that just likes hanging around on the floor sometimes. Once I had a tera raid battle end and then never put me back in the overworld, that was a fun softlock. Another time my pokemon came back to life, only for every ally Pokemon to faint at the same time for no reason. Once I battled a Corviknight seven times only to realise the loot doesn't reroll if you reset the game. That's not the game's fault but it was such a frustrating experience I'm mentioning it here anyway.
Shall we mention Pokemon spawning inside walls? There is nothing stopping Pokemon from spawning inside walls. One time I found myself inside a wall in Area Zero, and I was running into pokemon just wandering around in there. Speaking of Area Zero, there's a cave in there where you can see Pawmi floating on the ceiling.
Hey, speaking of clipping, let's talk about the sandwich minigame, shall we? No, I don't have a vendetta against the sandwich mechanic (as much as I'd like to, it's too good for shiny hunting). What's with the tablecloth clipping through the ingredients bowls? What's with the ingredients clipping through the bread? What's with the black feathery looking things that appear during the eating animation sometimes?
Also, not a glitch, just a tangent; but who the fuck puts sausages on bread crossways. That's not normal human behaviour. Get that checked out. Seek help. If you're a human being and you put sausages on your bread crossways, please stop there are better ways to live.
Anyway I think those are the major things I wanted to cover. I mean besides that I've just got Pokemon vanishing when you talk to them because they're too close to the camera, the overworld unloading for a frame, the camera desyncing with the player if you move to fast, eggs hatching behind you if you turn quickly enough, pokedex text not disappearing, rain in perfect weather... And there's this really small minor glitch I'm having trouble remembering... something like a memory leak in a AAA game.
God it'd be funny if it weren't embarassing.
All in all, I don't hate Pokemon Scarlet and Violet. I think fundamentally it's a fun game, in fact I've played it for over 90 hours so far. It's just the glitches the game has holds it back from being some of the best Pokemon games since Black and White.
#pokemon#pokemon critical#pokemon criticism#pokemon sv#pokemon scarlet and violet#rant#long post#glitches#text post#pokemon sv spoilers#stch
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
random 1.2 story ramble on dan heng incoming, not rly going anywhere w it
also like. its late rn but one of these days i rly wanna read a bit more into and try to form a more coherent view on like. what exactly jing yuans revelation about dan hengs secretly and purposefully botched reincarnation by the elders seems to imply
bc its clear that despite dan heng not wanting to identify as and not being dan feng in the exact sense theres definitely setup that seems to suggest a lot more muddled of a situation than what an usual vidyadhara hatching rebirth would conclude
and like this kind of. what is the line between a self and a past self? what really differentiates you from someone with your body but a different memory and life story? how much of a past life can you remember before you can no longer deny that they too have partially come back to life through you? anyway the psychology and philosophy of that is literally my shit. im obsessed with it. im cracking my knuckles thinking about it. ive written actual dissertation length rants on this about other characters in similar predicaments its such good stuff Man.
imo how id put it off the top of my head without the research done yet or anything just my own vibes is just. i dont think dan heng is dan feng but i also dont think hes not dan feng. i think his desire to separate himself from dan feng to a very black and white degree is something that is more out of his own emotional needs at the moment after feeling trapped by his past sins for so long as opposed to like. a rational assessment of where his situation truly lies. i get why dan heng feels the way he does but i kinda have a feeling theres still a lot he will have to come to terms with as his/dan fengs memories continue to return to him
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Group C Round 2
[image ID: the first image is of Järnarmen, a white man with slicked back blond hair. a scar runs across his forehead, and his left eye is a milky color, as if blind. he's wearing a black leather jacket, a black shirt, and black pants. his right arm has no hand, and what can be seen of it is made of iron. the second image is of Aliya Elasra, a woman with light brown skin, dark brown hair, and wearing a blue head scarf. around her neck is a necklace with a peach colored decoration. she wears a dirty, white loose shirt, and a brown bag around her hips. end ID]
Järnarmen
He's propped up to be this dangerous henchman of the local corrupt CEO. And he sure acts like one! He's got a scarred eye and a hook for a hand, and the hook has this hatch that he can shoot knives out of. He's unnervingly quiet most of the time. He likes throwing knifes out of his hook at a dartboard without looking at the board, and DOES hit one of the protagonists (or rather his clothes) without even knowing that he's there.
But then we get to the climax of the film and all of a sudden he's gotten some serious "Stormtrooper aim". He switches his hook out for a MACHINE GUN and starts shooting at all three of the protagonists from like ten metres away yet doesn't manage to hit anything, not even the boat they're sitting in. The protagonists aren't even shooting him back or anything!
In summary: he's surprisingly edgy for this goofy slapstick film yet ultimately pointless and I love him for it.
[mod note: submitter also included a link to their friend's art]
Aliya Elasra
What a WOMAN she’s a badass. First of all, she’s an archaeologist, and she’s learning a dead language and deciphering it- that’s the whole plot of the game and that’s super cool of her. She’s also like incredibly sassy and banters back and forth with her robot companion, Six, nearly the whole game. But she’s so interested in the world dude, like, she just wants to find its secrets and help discover a way to save people or learn as much as she can about the past. The Nebula is full of mysteries and if anyone is going to solve them, it’s Aliya.
[additional propaganda 1]
#obscurecharactershowdown#group c round 2#obscure poll#järnarmen#the iron arm#jönssonligan dyker upp igen#aliya elasra#heaven's vault
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
olivertorre
oliver
klausterpunch
Klaus Von Reinherz
merlamae
Merla-Mae Ice Cream
hotspothutspot
Hotspot Hutspot
jameelajamilsgf
Untitled