#elise sets her gaze (ic) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

knockyasocksoff2022 · 5 months

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The One Day Return of Double Black

(A/N: I intitailly panned for this to be a relationship reveal but it turned out softer, as many of my writing has lately. I don't mind it though. Also this is my very first time ever writing in 3rd person so please forgive me if it sounds whack as hell. This fic isn't entirley isn't entirely in 3rd person, but I wanted to try out a new style of writing, so let me know if you like it.)

(4,846 words)

Third Person Perspective:

He walks with a purpose, angry that his partner left for work without him. Isn’t it much more efficient if they come in together? After all, they’re work partners so no one would ever suspect the rings resting under Chuuya's glove and Dazai’s shirt, on a chain that holds it suspended right over his heart.

The route to the headquarters is twisting turns through dark back streets, but Dazai remembers it with perfect clarity as if it were yesterday. To him, it was.

—

Even after all this time not much had changed. The Port Mafia still cower under the gaze of Dazai Osamu. If anything they’re more afraid now. And why shouldn’t they be, he is the only person in history to betray the mafia and walk away alive.

The guards are so scared they hardly pay attention to the way the Demon prodigy’s gaze isn’t as sharp as usual, eyes glazed over, or that his unbrushed hair sticks to his forehead with sweat.

Even if they were to notice, it would go uncommented on because that’s the privilege of being the Demon Prodigy.

So no one says anything when he walks through the lobby of the Mori Corporation, black dress shoes still shiny as the day they last set foot here, clicking evenly as he heads for the lift.

The guards will not radio about his presence to their superiors because they are cowards, too afraid of being punished for letting him in. They will not stop him either, too afraid of being punished if he is truly supposed to be here. They are too afraid of him. The torture master, who seems to have regained sight in his other eye. “How terrifying,” they think, “must he be with full sight instead of half.”

The torture master doesn’t stop to think that it’s strange that his old lift code still works, because right now he doesn’t remember just how old it is, the heat coursing through his body erasing the past four years of conflict.

He stares at his reflection. His suit is still pressed, not a wrinkle visible because it’s been untouched. To anyone else, the garment would have been long outgrown but years of only occasional meals of low-calorie food have allowed him to remain the same size and weight as when he was only a boy.

He does not think he is eighteen again, but maybe he wishes he was. For him, time has passed in a sort of mixed and matched fashion, a quilt of mind and muscle memories. His mind, for the movement at least, exists in a world where things are the same as they’ve always been. And when the lift door opens, he needs only to walk down the corridor, into the meeting room (his biometrics will still work) and his executive seat will be waiting for him (it is) just as it was yesterday. He has no idea that, while he would be welcome, his striding into that room would cause a commotion. To him, this is simply another day.

“Maybe I’ll blow off the meeting, and just bother Slug instead, he did leave without me after all.” The prodigy hums as he thinks to himself.

The lift opens to an empty corridor, the boy’s illusion is safe for now.

Chuuya comes first, before everything. He heads down the opposite end of the corridor, to give his lover a piece of his mind.

Chuuya’s Perspective

The weekly meeting was cancelled, and I hardly have any paperwork so I’d say this counts as a good morning. Maybe Mori-san will ask me to take Elise out for ice cream or something. I don’t mind her, when she’s away from him she’s really a nice kid. I won’t dwell too much on the fact that she’s been a kid the entire time I’ve known her, maybe her ability has something to do with shape-shifting.

(A/N: Chuuya likes to be with Elise because it makes him feel tall.)

The door slams open. It’s not the noise that makes me drop my pen, but the person standing in my doorway.

“Ne Chibi! You horrible ungrateful slug, you left me at home! Honestly, you’re so disrespectful. You made me late, I should report you to Mori-san, but I won't because I’m such a good partner, not like you.”

And suddenly . . .

He’s 16 again.

A teenager in demeanour but a man in physique, and I’d be lying by omission if I failed to mention how he looks in that suit. The whole situation takes my breath away, proof that love trumps logic when my first thoughts on his sudden appearance here are thirsty ones and not concern.

It makes me a bit sick to think that he’s still skinny enough to fit into something he wore when he was eighteen.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” That's what I want to say, but Dazai’s realm is logic, shifting the pieces from the background. Brute force won’t get me anywhere, it only makes him curl defensively into himself, like a porcupine.

“First of all, you’re the ungrateful one, you brat! You’re the one that sleeps until ungodly hours of the morning. I left you breakfast, did you want a note or something? I’m not your mother!”

He crosses his arms, stepping closer to my desk. I don’t stop him, “Breakfast was absolutely terrible, like everything else you cook, and you still left me—”

I want to laugh, we both know my cooking is exquisite, but there’s something more upsetting about what he said. “Wait, you didn’t drive here, did you?”

“How else was I supposed to get to work when you LEFT ME!” he emphasises the last two words, hopping up to sit on the edge of my desk. I sit on my hands so I don't end up shoving him out of the window.

“I can’t believe you! How many property damage fees do we owe now? Never mind, don't answer that. God! You’re giving me a headache already. And stop going on about how I left you, this isn’t bringing your fish to work day. Why are you even here at all? If you bothered to drive, why didn’t you go to work?”

“I did. I’m here, aren’t I? I could’ve ditched, but nooo, I came in just for you, hatrack.”

“You know you don’t work here anymore, dumbass.” It’s a joke, we both know it. This is just something Osamu would do, come back and act like everything is normal just to psych me out. I always swear not to let his antics phase me but something about him today is ‘off ’. It’s already driving me insane how I can’t put my finger on it.

“Yes I do, I always have, does Chibi have amnesia or did he just finally run out of memory storage in that small brain of his?” He tugs on my hat and I reach out to punch him but he sinks down before I can.

“My brain is just the same size as yours. You don’t work here, and if you think you do then you’re the one with mental problems, not me!”

“Ah, my dog is so mean to me! Bad dog! Bad dog!”

“I’m not your fucking dog you sleazy bastard.”

“Big words coming from a chibikko hatrack.” He remarks, shrugging casually.

These words finally make me pause. As much as we still love sniping at each other, many of these nicknames are hardly ever used anymore, ones we save for times when we both need the nostalgia. Hatrack. I haven’t heard that one in forever, and despite the jeering nature, it sends a flood of warmth through me.

Is that what he’s here for? The nostalgia of it all? Is this what he wants?

I scrutinise his face for any trace of his motives, taking in every detail. He’s a glorious enigma. His jet-black hair is matted, a snarl that still manages to look fluffy. There’s something stiff about the way it frames his face as if stuck on by glue.

His eyes are bright, a different kind of bright than when he usually teases me, or the soft aura they get when it’s just us alone at home. Normally when he teases me his irises maintain that darkness, almost black, eating all light that enters them, but now they almost appear chocolate brown, reflecting the light. Glossy, sparkling with a shine like the surface of the ocean under the summer sun. It’s disconcerting, wrong, like when he smiles just a little too wide. I don’t dislike it, but I know it isn’t right.

He hasn’t shaved in a while and there’s stubble forming around his jaw, the dark contrasting with his pale features, too pale, the barely visible bags of his eyes making his eyes look far too big.

If nostalgia is what he wants then I’d be happy to give it to him, but I don’t think it is. This is something beyond either of our control.

Shit.

Great, this is just great! What am I gonna do with him now?

“Is Chibi going to apologise to me, or will he be sleeping on the sofa tonight?”

I step closer. I know what’s wrong, but I’ll need to touch him to be sure.

We’re so close now that I can feel the heat radiating off him, his coat certainly isn’t helping. I run at a higher temperature because of Arahabaki, so if I can feel it, it’s bad. He needs a doctor fast, but he’s so stubborn . . . how can I make him come willingly?

“I’m sorry I left you, Osa. You just looked so peaceful sleeping, I couldn’t wake you.” I whisper the words, standing on my tip-toes, leaning forward, closing the small gap between us.

It’s true, with his insomnia being how it is a full night's sleep is rare and when he does get it I let him sleep for as long as he possibly can. I think his colleagues think he sleeps late but most of the time he’s laying in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to get up or trying another method of suicide he found on some sketchy webpage with r-rated pop-up ads.

When my lips meet his I gasp, he tries to deepen the kiss and put his tongue in my mouth. I don’t let him. He responds by pulling the long piece of my hair. I pull away, still grasping his shoulders. I’d been expecting warmth but not like this. Holding him is like holding a flame, his skin feeling like he’s been outside for hours in the summer heat.

“Fuck! Shit! Dammit, Osa! You’re burning up.”

He just laughs, “So Chibi does think I’m hot, I knew it!” he grins in triumph, of course, he would be laughing with a temperature like this, “You earned your way back to the bed–”

“Actually, I will be sleeping on the sofa, I have no intention of catching whatever you have. We need to get you to the infirmary, Mori-san will have something for you.”

I grab his hand and pull him out the door. I should be worried about people seeing him, but they won’t hurt him. And should they try I won’t let them. I hold Osamu’s burning hand all the way to the lift. How he’s still even functioning, much less standing with a fever like this makes me think he really isn’t human.

The infirmary is only one floor below us, just below the training room, but the training room takes up the space of three floors and the lift isn’t going nearly fast enough for my liking, so I use my ability to drop it.

I thank god for Osamu’s awareness and that he doesn’t cling to me for support and risk cancelling my ability.

When we reach the right floor I release the lift from For The Tainted Sorrow, it clunks loudly to a stop.

The infirmary takes up this entire floor, you might think we’d need multiple floors for enough space, and we do, but this is the so-named special infirmary. (Some of us call it the Meat Locker, behind Mori-san’s back because it’s always so cold.) Mori-san works here when he’s not busy planning strategy. This facility is for the top mafia operatives and is thus equipped to handle ability users and ability-related injuries. The grunts and foot soldiers use the larger infirmary lower in the building.

I set Osamu on the nearest bed and go to find a nurse. The nurses must be in between shifts, but I find Elise. She’s wearing a small nurse’s uniform, hat and all. When I was first told she worked in here I was extremely sceptical but her medical knowledge is as vast as Mori-san and she’s never made a mistake in treating a wound. (This backs up my theory that she’s not actually a child, but an adult who likes to shapeshift into child form, for whatever reason.)

(A/N: HC that Elise possesses all the same basic skills that Mori-san has, like she can do surgery and she could drive but it’s a bit hard for her to reach the pedals and see over the dash. Also in this fic, Chuuya doesn't know Elise is Mori-san’s ability.)

Elise greets me, “You’re here with Osamu aren’t you?”

“How-”

“It’s the look on your face, only he can bring that worry and desperation out in you. What’s happened to him, another attempt?”

“No, he has a fever.”

Elise glares and rolls her eyes, “A fever, seriously!”

“Come on, Elise, you know I wouldn’t have brought him here if it wasn’t bad, and it’s bad.”

“True. Does he have any other symptoms?”

“No, but he’s delirious, he thinks he still works here.”

“Oh, I’m sure Rintarou loves that.” Her dry humour at the expense of Mori-san always amuses me, but I don't laugh now.

“He doesn’t know yet.”

“Are you hiding Osamu?”

“No, he just marched in here as far as I can tell, but I didn’t get a chance to tell Mori-san yet. I figured I’d do it when he’s not dying.”

Elise shrugs, “Fair.”

We’re at Osamu’s bed now, and I can see what he so easily hides from everyone else. He’s starting to wear, the fever finally taking its toll, still, he looks much better than he should and it creeps me out a bit.

Elise feels his forehead, but unlike me, maintains her composure simply nodding and pulling out a thermometer. He doesn’t let Elise stick the thermometer in his ear, so I do it, while she disappears into the medication store room.

After too long, the device beeps.

39.4℃

How is he even . . .? Right, he’s Dazai, of course, he’s fine. The damn cockroach!

Elise is back, pushing a cart with a glass pitcher, a stack of fabric, and medication, which Osamu takes only after I give him a stern look.

Elise takes a stack of fabric, white clothes, and lays them on the bed.

“Fevers like this are dangerous, he’ll need to stay hydrated.” She sets the pitcher on the table beside the bed, “This is mineral water, make sure he drinks all of it, and when it’s empty fill it up again, they’re bottles in the fridge in the store room. If he starts showing any more symptoms let me know, but unless something changes, he should be okay to go home tonight.”

I nod, dumping my coat and hat into the bed next to us, and pouring some water into the glass cup, holding it carefully out to my husband. He doesn’t take it.

“You can get changed first, but then you have to drink water, okay.”

He nods.

I hand him the stack of clothes and pull the curtain around the bed.

When he doesn’t stand I begin pulling off his trench coat. He sits up a bit, allowing me to remove the heavy garment, then flops back down, I sigh and let my finger trace his collarbone while I untie his tie, he leans into the contact, more alert now. I ignore how my warm touch feeling cool to him isn’t a good thing in favour of unbuttoning his shirt.

Now all that’s left are his bandages.

They’re stuck to his skin with sweat but eventually, I peel them all off, his pale fevered skin glowing sickly under the fluorescent lights.

A cool shower or bath would be ideal but I settle for wetting a towel under the sink and patting him down gently with it. He leans into my touch and for just a second I think he’s fallen asleep but then his eyes blink open so fast it makes me jump a little. Swatting his bare arm, I help him put on the soft white pants and a loose white t-shirt.

He still doesn’t touch his water.

I hold it out to him, “You gotta drink, Osa, having a fever like this isn’t good for you, we need to get it down. Then we can go home and watch whatever shitty movies you like.”

He shakes his head.

“Osamu!”

He’s staring at me like he's drinking in every aspect of my being like I did for him in my office.

“I like it when Chuuya is my partner.” He finally says.

“I’ll always be your partner, you silly fish. Forever remember, we promised.” I take off my glove, showing him the ring, a shining metal thing. Two bands of stainless steel with azure sapphires running a line in between them.

Osamu takes out his own ring, two iron bands, with blood-red rubies in between, and rolls it in his palms, not saying anything.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean it like this.” He gestures to the infirmary around us but I still don’t understand.

“I like being Chuuya’s work partner,” he explains, looking more alert now, the medication must be working. “I like it, knowing that everything is still the same, being here and knowing I belong.”

Oh. “You’ll always belong here.”

“Maybe so, but I could never ignore Oda’s last wish like that. I’m already remembering, and I know that once I stop having a temperature everything will go back to normal. But I want . . . I want to stay here with you, hatrack, in this time capsule, just a bit longer.”

Softness and tender love may be what he needs, but it’s not what he wants. Well, then I’ll play along. I don’t mind at all. If he wants to be sixteen again, who am I to deny him that? I’ll love and care for him in the same burning way I did back then.

I sigh, sitting up straighter, leaning away from him, removing any trace of softness from my voice and getting into character. “Hmph! Of course, a mackerel like you would want to stay here longer! I thought you hated pain. And, don’t give me those eyes, I’m not gonna do your paperwork for you.”

He smiles that goofy smile, understanding what I’m doing, not at all offended by my harsh tone.

“Ah, but dogs are supposed to be loyal, and I’m sooo dreadfully ill!” He flops back dramatically

The next line comes easily, “I am not your damn dog!”

We fall back into the teenage banter embarrassingly easily as he goes on about how his greater height makes him the master. It feels like only yesterday that I was in the arcade, choosing to follow him instead of Shirase and Yuan, as I shove a cup of the mineral water towards him, splashing his face. 16-year-old me wouldn’t have reached for a towel to dry his face, so I don’t either. It’s probably okay since he still has a fever.

“Just shut up and drink, you mummified fish!”

He dips his finger in the cup and flicks water at me.

“Dammit, shitty Dazai! Drink it and drown for all I care.”

He takes a slow sip, then another, downing the cup in seconds, his following of my command the only thing shattering the illusion. It makes me laugh how I still call him Dazai when I tease him, even though he hasn’t had that surname in years. I think he’ll always be Dazai, on some level.

The day passes surprisingly quickly. With the help of the medication, cool clothes and water, Osamu’s temperature steadily returns to normal.

I tell him about the upcoming mission Mori-san has for ‘us’ and we complain about it. I hear Elise’s chime-like laughter from the store room. Even with his head foggy he offers strategies that make me wish he would still sit at the executive table.

I complain to him about how Mori-san is probably going to make me do paperwork on this incident, and he replies that it’s my own fault because I shouldn’t have left without him, and could have just left him in my office. “But you didn’t, because Chibikko cares about me~~~” he sing-songs.

“In your fucking dreams maybe!” The denial sounds so false on my lips that we both burst out laughing. His eyes are clear again, the haze of fever gone, he doesn't think he’s my work partner anymore, but neither of us stops the banter.

After a while though, the sun begins to slip lower and lower in the sky. I take Osamu’s temperature, it’s normal. The pretending is officially over.

“You're all better, Osa. As soon as Elise clears you, we can go home.” I let the softness return to my voice.

I expected him to be disappointed, but he smiles softly, tucking his hair behind his ear in that pretty way he does. Sometimes we both yearn for the nostalgia of simpler times, but we both know that what we have now, between us and only us, is a million times better.

I’ll miss this, but I won’t miss the old port mafia dorm or Osamu’s shipping container. I won’t miss when we didn’t have our own home, the place that is ours. A place we don’t have to hide. I won’t miss the time before I wore a metal ring under my glove.

I do miss our large king bed, open plan kitchen, luxurious sofa, and our spacious shower.

My stomach rumbles, “God, I’m fucking starving.”

Osamu pats his own stomach, and we remember neither of us had lunch. For some reason, it seems like the funniest thing. We can’t stop laughing for a full minute.

I sigh, catching my breath. “Do you feel well enough to eat? We have leftovers in the fridge, or I can make okayu.”

“Hmm, I know it’s late, but I’m restless from lying down all day, we should go out somewhere?”

I give him a once over. He looks fine. “Yeah, sure. How about that old ramen and sushi place, you know, near–”

“The arcade, yeah.” he finishes my sentence.

“I’ll go get Elise.” Before I can get up there's the sound of even steps on the tile floor.

“Chuuya-san, Dazai-kun, I’ve been meaning to come check on you two.” Mori’s voice and silhouette are familiar, even in the dark infirmary.

“Mori-san.” I nod to my boss. If he’s surprised to see Osamu here he doesn't show it.

“Oh, you can drop the formalities for now, and don’t worry, I’m not here about your paperwork, I gave you the day off as soon as Elise informed me of the situation. Thank you for visiting our fine establishment today, Dazai-kun, I’m glad you’re back to full health. Please know you’re welcome back anytime you like.”

With that, he walks off. Most of the time I laugh when Mori asks Osamu to come back. He won’t force him back and even then Osamu would find a way not to come if he didn’t want to. After today though, I find myself wishing Osamu would accept. We were such a good team, and we still are. But I respect his wanting to stay in the light for Oda, and I can be more than content with having him be mine all mine outside of work.

Elise feels Osamu’s forehead, taking his temperature one last time, and declares him cleared.

I smile as she leaves, we both do.

He looks at his clothes scattered on the floor.

“Those are all sweaty, you shouldn’t wear them. And no bandages either, you can put them back on at home, after you’ve had a shower.”

He gives me puppy eyes, “Fine. Would a dog lend his master some of his clothes?”

“Fuck no!”

“Ugh, not the ones you’re wearing . . . though I would like to see you naked.”

I smack him lightly on his head.

He shrugs, “Can’t I be honest with my husband? But only I get to see Chibi naked, you can keep your clothes. I know you keep spare stuff in your office in case you have to work overnight.”

I roll my eyes and pull him up, grabbing his clothes and my own coat and hat.

He looks at home in my office, lounging on the sofa looking as if he never left, as if I woke up and came back in here realising that his betrayal was merely a dream.

But I know he never left me, not really.

The clothes I keep in my drawer are for all sorts of emergencies.

A copy of my usual work outfit in case it gets bloody or something.

Pyjamas if I have to sleep here

A formal suit for the dinners we executives have to attend with Port mafia associates.

Some old casual clothes if I have a stake-out mission

And a nice but not fancy outfit for when I have a date with Osamu and I’m not able to stop at home to get ready first.

I take pieces from each of the last three outfits for Osamu, already laughing as I picture how short the sleeves and trousers will be on him. It’s his fault that his arms and legs are so ridiculously long.

I hand him the clothes and he seems to be thinking the same thing (we often are). His face morphs into a look of teasing disgust. “Ewwww! I have to wear Chuuya’s tacky clothes.”

But he gives no protest as I help him undress. Thankfully the suit is new enough that I hadn't hemmed the slacks yet, and because he’s so skinny the waistband shouldn’t be a problem.

Taking inspiration I decided to go for something more casual myself.

The outfit is mismatched but when I stand back it all somehow fits. Frustratingly, he’s managing to pull off the white tee shirt, black slacks, and red hoodie.

I wear a black tee shirt, an old worn pair of jeans and a blue Yokohama Tigers bomber jacket.

He laughs, holding me just off the ground, “We match.”

“Yeah, Now let me go, I’m hungry!”

I stuff our clothes in a paper bag I have left over from my last trip to the wine shop and we’re off.

I’d almost forgotten about it but the weight that comes off my shoulders when I see that Osamu’s car is miraculously unscathed is immense.

I drive this time, while Osamu stretches himself out in the backseat, singing loudly along to the music on the radio.

The sleek car will stick out on this side of town so I park in an alleyway.

“You good to walk the rest of the way?”

“Yup.”

People stare at us as we walk. I don’t blame them, I’m sure I look like some kind of punk high schooler and then there's Osamu with his dress trousers and shoes with a hoodie.

It makes me feel fifteen again, people used to stare at us then too.

The ramen joint is run by a small gang, but they don’t interfere with us so we leave them alone. The owner still shakes in fear when we enter, wondering what business I could have with him.

“We’re just here for the food,” I say, not paying him a glance as I take two menus from the counter. He sighs in relief.

The food takes a bit longer than usual, but I swear it’s twice as delicious. I think they must still be worried about my business here.

Osamu and I eat wordlessly, the food is too good to be uninterrupted by any conversation. When we’re together we don’t need words anyway, and when we’re done we both stare out the window. We can see the bright lights of the arcade from here, one of the only and brightest lights around, a beacon in the night.

Osamu looks at me, I look at him. There’s a certain glimmer in his eyes, the one I used to crave like it was life itself before I knew he returned my feelings. I can see the shine in my own eyes reflected in his.

I take a wad of cash out of my wallet and drop it on the table, the waitress looks at us with wide eyes as we leave. I say nothing but Osamu waves goodbye to the owner like a little kid, the gleam in his eyes only intensifying.

The sun has completely disappeared from sight now, and we should go home and go to bed like responsible adults, especially after the day Osamu’s had. But it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last so what’s a little disregard for personal health for old-time’s sake?

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #port mafia #chuuya nakahara #skk #soukoku fic #soukoku fanfiction #soukoku fanfic #skk fanfiction #skk fanfic #skk fic

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angsty-prompt-hole · 2 years

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Nano day 5 summary: I avoided the eldritch horse story today because it was starting to weigh on me a little, so the story that got the most added to it was The Body of Christ is Riddled With Maggots, in which I got super into describing some horrifying-looking angels and gave myself a nice shot of existential dread thinking about how insanely terrifying it would be to find the corpse of God Himself in the middle of the woods.

For today I have two things I’ll share. First, a picrew I made of Nick, the protagonist of the eldritch horse story (The Day We Lost Winston Nuggets Jr) because I have serious brainrot for him, and second, a snippet describing some fucked up angels.

TW: body horror, especially involving eyes and other facial features in places they aren’t supposed to be, horror imagery involving blood, too many eyes, and teeth. Also religious imagery.

Nick Valentine, ultimate horse girl and soon to be eldritch horror, made in the picrew linked here:

And the snippet from The Body of Christ is Riddled with Maggots:

At first she couldn’t quite comprehend what she was looking at, and as she began to gain clarity, she began to wish desperately that she hadn’t. The boulder field lay strewn across a steep hillside, and it sloped down to meet the trees where she stood. Near the top of the hill, perched on massive boulders, were two creatures she could barely begin to describe.

One was tall, lanky, crooked like its stick-thin body had been broken in a dozen different places. It had no face, but mouths littered its body, long sticky tongues flicking greedily in and out. Massive wing-like structures arced up from its back, jagged, raw, and pulsating. Its upper limbs, what could only be the equivalent of arms, were tipped with bulbous, gelatinous-looking structures that Elise soon realized could only be eyes. A shape resembling a shattered crown twisted slowly around its blank face.

The other was less disgusting, but no less horrible to behold. Its head was bowed, icy blue hands folded in front of it as if in prayer. It too had wings, but its wings were crystalline, like the solid sheets of ice that grew over ponds in the dead of winter. Shards of that ice-like substance were embedded everywhere, and Elise thought she could see facial features squirming within the panes, as if she was watching someone else’s reflection as they gazed into a set of funhouse mirrors. Massive spikes rose from its bowed head, curving back behind it, and a dark, viscous-looking substance dripped from their tips to trail between its wings.

Angels. Elise had no idea where the thought had come from, but deep in her bones she knew it to be true. An awful pressure began to build in her head, and her stomach roiled, threatening to send her breakfast back up her throat.

Taglist: @onthetipofmyquill @written-in-gold @jezifster

#nanowrimo #nano 2022 #rot and ruin #hopefully i covered everything in the tw #if not let me know and ill add more

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stevetonyweekly · 3 years

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SteveTony Weekly - May 2

I know I say every week that I read a lot this week but I have been indulging in my favorite coping technique and so this list is ridiculously long. Twitter encouraged me. Blame them.

**Indicates my recent favs

~*~

On the inherent homoeroticism of cake decoration by welcoming_disaster (616/8K)

“She’s matchmaking, Barton,” Carol sighed.

“We,” Thor corrected, thumping himself hard in the chest, “art matchmaking.”

“Who, Cap n’ Tony?” Clint asked, his mouth full.

“Cap and Tony,” Janet confirmed, cutting herself a thin slice of egg and gently depositing it on her whole grain avocado toast, “it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Wait, I thought they were—“ Clint frowned, glancing around the room as though to confirm. Nothing but confused faces met his questioning gaze. “Huh. I really thought they were fucking.”

“And there is the crux of the issue,” Jess licked a bit of spaghetti sauce off her lip.

“Aye,” agreed Thor, “there’s rub.”

-----------

The team tries to set up Steve and Tony. Things don't go as planned.

Baby lovers like you and me (never say die) by FestiveFerret (Old Guard AU/7.5K)

The Avengers. They'd found him frozen in the ice, told him he was immortal, of all things. And with the way he'd lived through seventy years deep in the Atlantic, he found himself inclined to believe them. They'd also been very… convincing.

Without question, they integrated him into their unit - The Avengers, a secret team of unkillables seeking wrongs around the world and making them right, supported and housed by an enigmatic billionaire named Tony Stark. Their immortality, it seemed, was a secret to everyone but him.

Ready, set, bake by ChocolateCapCookie (Great British Bake Off/11k)

The Avengers are on a nationally televised baking competition, but nobody seems to have warned the producers that the Avengers, while they save the world everyday and put their loves at risk doing so, are a) insanely competitive, and b) absolutely terrible bakers. Steve Rogers, especially, has a competitive streak a mile wide, and he's determined to win this competition, but it's not easy when his only real opponent is also the man he's been in love with for years.

***To make flowers grow (in this barren heart) by SoldiersShield, KakushiMiko (Hanahaki AU/16K)

“You hide yourself away in your technology, but you are just as human as the rest of them. Your heart betrays your desire to possess.” Her gaze falls to the arc reactor, and Tony's blood runs cold in his veins.

“The Earth will reclaim what we have lost,” she says, dragging a hand over the chestplate of the armor. “It is you, and your kind-- your greed that pulls life from the soil as if it were nothing. You will reap what you have sown, Stark. The avarice in your heart will strangle the very life out of you.” Arna meets his eyes once more, a serene smile on her face as she leans forward.

“I hope he is worth dying for,” she murmurs, before digging her hand into his ribcage.

(Tony Stark falls in love with Steve Rogers. A rogue enchantress ensures he pays for it.)

Shelter from the storm by silkspectred (KidFic/5k)

Tony adopts a baby. Guess who's Majorly Fucked Up™ about it.

Keep on beating by itsallAvengers (Domestic Fluff/6K)

There were an awful lot of things Steve loved about Tony. But one thing in particular Steve could never get enough of was his heartbeat.

The good or bad thing by petreparkour (Multiverse/10k)

“It’s the metal suit,” Thor informed Steve, his normally-booming voice tinny over the SHIELD comms. “What did Stark call it—Iron Man?”

“But he’s down here,” Steve protested as the Hulk roared in Stark’s face, startling him into waking with a shout. “How could—”

“It’s damaged,” Thor reported. “But it looks different. More advanced. And he—ah. He’s carrying you, Captain.”

“Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark breathed out, and then Stark’s voice suddenly came over the comms, but the man lying next to him hadn’t moved.

“Guys, come on, you’re killing me here. What is it, 2012? God, I hate time travel. First, I'm fighting Thanos. Now, I have to deal with my past self and Thor's bad haircut? Oh my God, Cap, yes I hacked their comms, they’re my comms.”

Steve nearly opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t said anything when he realized that this replica of Tony Stark wasn’t speaking to him.

***The tipping point by nightwalker (Domestic Fluff/7K)

Tony has a few quirks. Steve's still trying to figure them all out.

We two, how long we were fool’d by glassessay (Soulmate AU/9K)

Steve Rogers comes into the world as unblemished as his mother. When Anthony Stark is born, his soulmark is an obvious pattern of ink across his tiny chest.

It only takes a century, two names, and a shared love of Walt Whitman for them to find each other.

The tape in the cave by betheflame (Canon Divergent/5K)

Steve had no idea what was happening.

“You think I didn’t know that?”

Tony was staring Zemo down as though the Sokovian was actual vermin - which, Steve reflected, he kind of was.

“You think that I,” Tony continued, not hiding the sneer in his voice, “Anthony Stark, who has more powerful technology in my literal fingers than most nations have, that I wouldn’t know everything possible about how my parents died? That I wouldn’t know it wasn’t an accident, that your silly little HYDRA Nazi knock-off pals are the ones who murdered them? Please, you are pathetic.”

Happy ending by Robin_tCJ (No-Powers AU/28K)

Steve is a mobile massage therapist, and Tony is a stressed billionaire. What could go wrong?

With a decent happiness by torigates (Teacher AU/16K)

Tony Stark is Iron Man. Steve Rogers isn't, and never was Captain America.

Or, the one where everything is the same except Steve is a kindergarten teacher.

Nothing left but scars by SailorChibi (MCU/6.7K) - Reread

Steve wakes up to the fact that no one ever compliments or even says thank you to Tony, and that he has fallen into the same trap of painting Tony with a specific paintbrush.

This is how he showers a very confused Tony with praise to make up for it.

Our hearts should remember and follow by frostfall (MCU/5K)

Steve hums. “I didn’t know you could play. Or sing. Don’t think I’ve heard anyone mention it before.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s one of the few things, skills, I don’t flaunt. Not something people are interested in, anyway. Not gonna sway any board members by playing fucking Für Elise for them. Sides’, there’s a high chance I wouldn’t even play. Well, maybe if you get me drunk enough and near an instrument. Then, I might reconsider.”

(After a dream leaves Tony rattled, he turns to the piano as a way to distract himself.)

Finally, you and me by pensversusswords (Multiverse/10K)

Because in every layer of time, in every conceivable dimension, he was always meant to love Steve.

By some miracle, Steve was meant to love him back.

***Full disclosure not required (but appreciated) by Potrix (Identity Porn/16k)

The one where Steve knows more than he lets on, Tony knows less than he pretends, Clint has a big mouth, Bucky is a little shit, and everyone learns why keeping secrets never ends well.

Almost never, anyway.

Heartlines by nanasekei (MCU/7.9K)

“Let me,” Tony repeats. He regrets it deeply, so much, he wants to stick the words back into his mouth again, and it must show, in the way his voice wavers. He feels exposed, all of a sudden, as if he’s asking something bigger than what he can actually say. Let me touch you, let me take care of you. “Just… Let me do it.”

i found a way to let you in, but i never really had a doubt (marriage series) by quidhitch (Marriage Series/16k)

Tony Stark doesn’t believe in marriage. It’s nobody’s fault. —Well, it’s Howard's fault, probably, but Tony doesn’t like to think about that for too long, finds that it dredges up all sorts of issues he’d rather keep buried under a mountain of strategically employed sarcasm, humorous self-deprecation, and the occasionally effective substance abuse.

***Hide your love away by sineala (Soulmate/33K) - Reread

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever.

When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

Break the chain (can’t live in circles again) by orphan_account (FWB/19K)

There had been seven amazing weeks of dating Steve Rogers before Tony realised that they weren’t dating at all. And then it was a scramble to adjust to the situation as it had always been: being Steve’s friend-with-benefits.

And if Steve seemed a little confused and bewildered by the way Tony was acting, well. Tony was probably just misreading that, too.

Five times steve and tony (tried to) bail each other out of jail by Teyke (MCU/6k)

Twice before Civil War, twice after, and once during. For very loose definitions of both 'bail' and 'jail'.

Cracked hearts under iron ribs by XtaticPearl (Established Relationship/14k)

Rhodey is away for almost six months now and comes to meet Tony after the mission. He doesn't understand the domesticity of the whole Tower and unknowingly sets off a whole truck of insecurities which make Tony crawl back into being a Stark instead of just Tony. The team is not at all happy and Rhodey joins them in trying to figure out a way to help their resident genius feel better in his skin.

The single biggest problem with communication by BlossomsintheMist (616/108K)

In the wake of Steve's return from the dead and the end of Norman Osborn's reign of terror, the superhero community is recovering--Steve has taken on a new role and Tony is trying to put his life back together. Things are still awkward between them, but they're determined to put things to rights. But when a discussion about their feelings leads to further misunderstandings, they discover that might be more difficult than either of them realized. Set in the early Heroic Age after the end of Dark Reign, this is a get-together story about crossed wires--and second chances.

What are friends for? by bobertsmallismydad (MCU /2.8K)

In which Steve is targeted by a virus. Will the Avengers be able to save him in time?

Starving by festiveferret (Vampire AU/2K)

Steve woke up starving.

***Everybody wonders (What it would be like to love you) by SoldiersShield (MCU/3K)

“...Is that what this is about?” He asks slowly. Steve blanches.

“Oh my god. It is.” Tony has no right looking as giddy as he does. “Steven Grant Rogers, are you jealous?”

Or: Steve and Tony have been dancing around each other for a while now, and Steve's rather content with it. Attending a gala together just might change that.

Re(A)d all over by brandnewfashion, MusicalLuna (Drunk Flirting/3k)

Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark can blush.

It just takes Steve getting drunk on some magical Asgardian mead for it to finally happen.

***The Do-over Proposal by nightwalker (Established Relationship/1.2k)

Steve wants to go on a journey, Tony doesn't think it's a good time, and Bucky needs to beat some sense into both these idiots.

A Winter’s Ball by alliejowrites (Victorian AU/3.8K)

Steve moves to London in search of a patron, so that he can finally devote himself to painting. He is not expecting everything he finds upon meeting Lord Stark. A fluffy little Victorian AU. One-shot.

What’s a fanfic by starksnack (AvAc/1K)

Kamala introduces Tony and Steve to the world of fanfiction. There is a surprising amount of content about them being gay.

#stony #superhusbands #stevetony fic #stevetony weekly #stevetony #fic recs #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #captain ameria

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bloomsberries · 2 years

Text

I think this is the last fragment to delete. I struggled with this one because I had such a concrete idea, and I really wanted to do it, but in the end I just don’t have the time and I don’t think I even have the desire that much anymore. So, here’s that Eryka/Elise thing for The Tunnel. adieu! auf wiedersehen! adios!

In Berlin, there is a place underground. It is a nameless, secret place, open only to people with the right sorts of connections. Its aesthetic is of a piece with its seclusion. Booths tucked into dim corners. Tables in chiaroscuro; patrons lit by flickering candle. The susurrus of private conversations and ice clinking in glasses are heard briefly between a break in the music, then drowned out by a trumpet slowly wailing, meandering toward a few familiar notes. *My Funny Valentine.* Eryka Klein drinks her drink, vibrating like a plucked bass string.

The appointed time comes and goes, but Eryka waits, nursing a glass of gin and tonic, then another, her gaze flitting across faces, aching to find the right one. What were the chances her invitation would be accepted? Poor; very poor. She had known this even before she had extended it, not with a phone call but with a book hand-delivered by courier, an address, a date, and a time scrawled inside of its front cover. The address to a nameless, secret place. And on that date, in that place, Eryka waits, two hours past the appointed time.

She has not set eyes on Elise Wassermann in over a year.

It took some time to sort out the fallout from the Baturin affair, and even after that, Eryka was unsure about her ensuing moves. There were assignments, bureaucratic and otherwise, that kept her in Moscow a full six months before she was able to leave the country. There was talk of sending her to Bolivia, for a long-term post, but nothing panned out. She was kept on a short leash until her superiors considered the deal with MI5 over and done with. It was just as well. Eryka had not wanted to go to Bolivia. Instead, after SVR gave her the okay for an extended leave, she flew to Chile and stayed in Linares. It was not so far from Colonia Dignidad, but she did not go there, had no reason to see the place, now Villa Baviera, even from a distance. (Untrue; she had driven there, taken a gravel road all the way up to the gate, gazed at an old lookout tower; remembered, remembered.) She stayed in Linares, and then in Parral, the birthplace of Neruda. She took walks in La Balsa, and enjoyed the hot springs of Catillo. She read. She swallowed Neruda whole and tried not to think of Elise, which proved an impossibility.

And, so, a year and five days after Artem Baturin was taken into custody, Eryka took a flight out of Concepcion, to Santiago, to Madrid, to Frankfurt; a train to Berlin. It was then that she decided to send Elise Neruda's *Fin de mundo*, and the address to this place.

Hour three arrives heavily. Left with two empty glasses and no hope in sight, Eryka pays her bill and walks to the exit. She decides against the elevator and heads instead to a long flight of stairs that will lead her back up into the world. The staircase is almost too dark, the club's way of discouraging people from using it, but Eryka is not easily discouraged, and she prefers the darkness.

Halfway up she sees the shadow of a person sitting on the steps, a surprise that reflexively causes her to reach for the small of her back, where she keeps her holster. But, then, her eyes focus and surprise gives way to a different feeling entirely.

She laughs. It is the sound of relief, or love.

"Oh," she says, relaxing, a bit, leaning into the banister, gripping it. "You're— Hello, Elise. What are you doing here?"

Elise does not move. In that light, Eryka cannot make out the expression on her face, but she imagines it. Imagines her eyes, big and wet. Imagines her lips tucked into her mouth, caught between her teeth. She does not imagine a smile. Elise does not smile. (What would it take?) "You invited me."

"No, of course, I meant— I meant that I waited for you... downstairs."

"I wasn't sure that I wanted to go down."

"Would you like to now?"

"No."

From her perch, Elise stares with an intensity that renders the darkness between them obsolete. In it, Eryka feels vulnerable; feels, perhaps, the threat of being stripped, or flayed. She likes it. Elise once compared being in love to disease, but it is not disease, not a virus. It is a slow and pleasant dissection.

"No? It's a good place to talk, I think. Discreet," she says. "They have food, if you're hungry."

"I'm not."

"All right. My flat’s not far from here. If you would prefer it, we could— “

"Yes. I would prefer it," Elise says, and without another word, rises and takes the stairs out. The door at the top opens to reveal an unusually starry sky. Elise glances over her shoulder. Waits silently.

Eryka takes a breath, and follows.

They don’t speak on their brief walk to Eryka’s car. Elise follows a step or two behind, hands in her pockets, avoiding Eryka’s gaze when she turns to look at her. (What would Elise do if Eryka attempted an embrace? Would she stand with her arms at her sides, allow it?)

“This is me,” Eryka says, reaching into her purse for her keys, unlocking the passenger door, inhaling sharply when Elise brushes past her to get inside. (It is deliberate, and aggressive, and if it isn’t an embrace, if it isn’t even kind, it will do.)

Eryka’s flat is a ten minute drive away, and in that time Elise sits with her hands in her lap, looking out the car window. When Eryka begins to ask about her trip she answers bluntly.

“There isn’t much to say. The flight was uneventful.”

“That’s good, I suppose,” Eryka says, smiling. Attempting to smile. She feels it—that smile, the happiness and the conflict birthing it—like a dagger to the heart. “I’m glad that you came, Elise.” Eryka pauses before wandering into sentimental territory, before laying bare her feelings. It won’t be appreciated, not by Elise, but she says it anyhow: “I’ve missed you.”

When Eryka glances away from the road to look at Elise, Elise is already looking back, staring, her jaw visibly clenched, her eyes narrowed, and bright. She looks away as soon as Eryka catches her eye, blinks rapidly and answers, as though it hurts her to say it, “Yes. Yes, I’ve missed you, too.”

Eryka’s flat is new, nondescript. Its walls are painted white. The furniture in it is bland. She has bought houseplants, dozens of them; they crowd together on every available surface. They greet her when she opens the door; color and life in an otherwise dull place.

“Are you being surveilled?” Elise asks. It is the first thing she has said since they left the car and walked up the three flights to the flat.

“Yes. Several cameras appeared outside after I arrived. CCTV, ostensibly. I found a recording device in my room not long ago, but I sweep often for bugs. I am occasionally followed.”

Elise does not sit. She roams the living room, runs her fingers over leaves and stems, and the spines of books Eryka keeps, always keeps, with her.

Eryka watches from the center of the room, allowing the intrusion.

“You won’t be here long, then?” Elise asks.

“No, probably not.”

“Are you in Berlin for work?”

“Is this an interrogation?” It isn’t an accusation, but when Elise looks up sharply, with some anger, Eryka tempers her response with a smile. “No, I am not here for work, not now.”

“Not now,” Elise echoes, and *her *tone *is* accusatory. She turns away again, walks, glances through the open door into Eryka’s bedroom.

“Not now, Elise,” Eryka repeats. “Not for some time.”

#fragment #the tunnel fragment

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aerinsfables · 3 years

Note

📝7️⃣🙇‍♀️

:) :)

Flower Shop AU, part 7 below.

Read part 6 here!

---

That had to have been one of the most energetic games of volleyball Bracken had ever been involved with in his life. Granted, he hadn’t actually played volleyball since high school PE classes, but still. The amount of banter which had gone between mostly Seth and Warren had been quite amusing to observe, and when Tanu joined in on the teasing, it became even funnier.

Warren had claimed a partnership with Tanu as soon as he reached the net, which left Seth with Bracken; a mistake, Bracken thought, which Warren would not soon forget. Seth and Bracken were a pretty formidable team, and they found their balance with one another very quickly. Bracken had always possessed a natural talent of quick reflexes and good coordination, and it appeared that Seth was similarly inclined. They worked well together. Tanu and Warren were both also good at the game, but were not always on the same page with each other, which led to Warren diving into Tanu’s shins once and Tanu knocking heads with Warren another time.

He had to admit, this was nice. The camaraderie, the friendly teasing and banter, the smiles and obvious love each of these people held for one another… it was nice.

Perhaps Father had had a point about it being time for Bracken to come out of his shell.

“20-17,” Seth announced as he served the ball across the net. Warren returned it, Bracken popped it over again, and the ball was passed back and forth several times before Tanu just barely missed it and the ball landed on his side of the court.

“Boo,” Vanessa yelled from where she sat. “Warren, I thought you said you were going to kick Seth’s butt.”

“Working on it,” Warren replied. Tanu fetched the ball and tossed it back over to Seth so he could serve it again.

“You’re not doing a great job,” she replied.

Warren turned around and pointed at her. “Why don’t you come join us, then, Miss I-Can-Do-Anything-Better-Than-You?”

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed and she turned to the others who were still around the unlit fire pit. “Anyone else want to join in? Mara? Dale? Kendra?”

Kendra started to shake her head no, but Dale stood up and planted a hand on her shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Some exercise will do you good. Besides, we can’t let them think they’re better than we are, now, can we?”

A semi-smile crossed Kendra’s face, and she stood up. Dale gave her a quick hug and walked toward the net with his arm around her shoulders. Vanessa and Mara followed behind them.

“Who’s joining whose team?” Seth asked.

“I’m with Warren and Tanu,” Vanessa announced. “Mara’s with me.”

“That leaves us with Seth and Bracken,” Dale said. “My heart is broken, Vanessa. I thought you loved me.”

“Oh, I do, sweetheart. Somebody has to babysit your brother, though.”

“I do not need babysitting.”

“Sure looked like it from where I was sitting,” Vanessa replied.

Bracken deeply enjoyed all of the playfulness around him. Kendra had been correct when she’d told him that her family was a lively bunch.

“Welcome to our normal,” Kendra mumbled as she walked over to him. She wore a tired smile on her face.

“I am very entertained,” he admitted. “Are you alright?”

She replied with a sort of half shrug. “I don’t really feel like playing volleyball right now, but Dale is right. We have to kick Warren’s butt.”

Seth gave Kendra an enthusiastic grin and called to the other side of the net. “Did you hear that? Kendra just said we’re gonna cream you all.”

“Kendra should put her money where her mouth is,” Warren retorted. “Serve the ball, Seth!”

—————-

Lunch was ready before their game ended, and all parties had opted for food in lieu of continuing to play. Both teams had achieved roughly the same score up to that point, which was pretty exhilarating; it had been a very long time since Bracken had played a competitive sport, and he’d enjoyed the experience.

His phone alerted him to a new text message while everyone was eating lunch and chatting with one another. He gave it a quick glance, typed out a reply, sent his message and placed it back in his pocket.

“Is everything okay?” Kendra asked. She sat opposite from him at one of the picnic tables which had been set up on the deck. Scott and Marla shared this particular table, and the other attendees sat at additional ones.

“Yes, everything’s fine. One of the farms my family purchases a lot of flowers from likes to set up stalls at a local farmer’s market on Saturdays, and with Mother’s Day coming up in a couple weeks, they’ve asked for help with creating bouquets that weekend. It’s something I’ve helped them with for the past few years,” he explained.

“Which market?” Scott asked.

“It’s downtown,” Bracken replied. “Not too far from the flower shop and Warren and Dale’s café.”

“Oh, the one on 2nd Street?” Marla asked. “I like to go there to buy fresh produce. I don’t remember seeing you there before, though.”

“I usually only help them on Mother’s Day weekend,” Bracken explained. “Otherwise, I work in the shop on Saturdays.”

“Which farm is it?” Marla asked. “There are two or three different ones I can think of that sell flowers every weekend.”

“Bluebell,” Bracken said. “They usually have two or three stands in front of their tables where they put finished bouquets for customers to choose from, and their event tent is a light blue. It’s a family-run business as well. The parents and I put bouquets together all morning while the other son and their daughter handle the money and customer service part.”

“Interesting,” Scott stated. “I’m guessing their stall is pretty busy that particular weekend.”

Bracken nodded. “It’s their busiest day. Bouquets are purchased as quickly as they’re made. It’s typically a pretty busy weekend for our shop, as well, but the difference is that my family’s store receives probably 95% of our orders in advance of the holiday, whereas Bluebell creates and sells on the spot. It’s easy for my parents to handle the few customers who pop in that Saturday for quick arrangements. In exchange for our help here and there, Bluebell offers discounts to my family on the flowers we purchase from them.”

“A business move,” Kendra supplied.

“Yes,” he agreed. “We’ve worked with them for many years now. They’re practically family at this point.”

“Well. We might have to come visit you that weekend, then,” Marla said with a smile. “I don’t usually buy flowers, but it might be nice to grab a bouquet for once.”

“I buy you flowers,” Scott corrected. He sounded perhaps a little wounded in Bracken’s opinion.

Marla waved her hand at Scott. “I know, dear. I meant that I don’t usually buy flowers,” she said. “It might be nice to choose a bouquet for myself.”

Ruth walked up to their table and patted Scott’s shoulder. “Elise is here,” she announced. “She brought an assortment of little desserts. You four should go get some before Seth finds out.” Scott and Marla laughed and followed Ruth back inside the house.

Bracken looked up as another woman, presumably Elise, stepped out onto the back porch. She wore a loose-fitting tank top which showed off the tattoos on her upper arms, a studded nose ring in one nostril, and her hair was a stylish undercut on one side of her head. He remembered what Kendra had told him about Elise dating Mara, and he found it interesting that such different people were attracted to one another. Mara was much more conservative in appearance, and also seemed a little standoffish (at least to him, anyway), whereas Elise exuded very welcoming vibes.

Kendra smiled when she saw her. “Elise!” she called. She stood up and embraced her.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Elise said. “How are you doing?”

Kendra shrugged. “I’m fine. How are you? You look gorgeous. I love your hair!”

“Awww, thanks,” she replied. “It’s not totally done yet. I want to get it dyed, but haven’t decided on which color I want. Maybe orange.” She made eye contact with Bracken. “I’m Elise,” she said, and held out her hand to him in introduction.

“I’m Bracken,” he replied as he also stood up and shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” she replied. She quickly looked him up and down, then whispered into Kendra’s ear loudly enough for him to hear, “Where’d you find this handsome man?”

His face started to warm up at her words, and he averted his gaze to the table. It wasn’t necessarily uncommon for people to remark on his appearance, but he felt a little awkward about it whenever it happened.

Kendra cleared her throat. “Bracken made the bouquet I sent you a picture of last week. He’s one of the florists from the shop across the street from Warren and Dale’s place.”

“A man with creativity and a little sass, hmm? I approve.” Elise nodded her head. She then laughed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird. Mostly. If you’ll excuse me, though, I need to go hug the rest of my people.” She bounced on the balls of her feet a couple of times before she gave Kendra one more hug and ran off toward her girlfriend.

A small laugh escaped from Kendra, and a fleeting thought of how pretty her genuine smile was ran through Bracken’s head. “She seems nice,” he said.

“She is,” Kendra replied. “She’s like a favorite aunt, or cousin.”

“Elise brought dessert!” Seth shouted from the other side of the deck. He let out a loud whoop of excitement and ran for the kitchen. Bracken laughed.

“Grandma was serious about getting some before Seth takes it all,” Kendra warned.

Bracken shrugged. “It won’t hurt me to forego a little sugar. I don’t mind. Today.” He smiled. “Would you like some? I can fight him for a piece of cake for you.”

That elicited another genuine laugh from her, which broadened his own smile. “Thank you, but I’ve eaten roughly my weight in ice cream this week and should probably refrain from further sugar consumption as well.”

He wanted to hug her, but wasn’t sure if she’d appreciate it. Instead, he placed one hand on her shoulder and said, “He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

Kendra’s face reddened and she looked like she might suddenly start to cry. She turned toward the lawn and hugged herself, but didn’t otherwise respond.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he immediately apologized, distressed at the thought that he might’ve caused her distress.

She waved a hand at him. “Not your fault,” she said. “It doesn’t take much these days. You’re right, I know you’re right, but I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay to be sad,” he replied. “It’s okay to be angry, hurt, and upset, too.”

Kendra looked back at him with watery eyes. “Are you a therapist?” she teased with a weak smile.

He laughed a little. “I have four sisters, remember?”

“Right,” she giggled. “I feel so crazy right now. One minute I’m laughing, the next I’m crying, and now I’m laughing again.”

“Sounds pretty normal to me,” he said. “I don’t think I’d be much better off if our situations were reversed.”

She looked down at her feet with a soft smile. “Thanks.”

Vanessa walked up at that moment and wrapped an arm around Kendra’s shoulders, then glowered at Bracken. “Is he bothering you?” she asked Kendra while clearly staring at him.

“No,” Kendra said. “I’m just an emotional wreck.”

A short ‘hmm’ was uttered by Vanessa, who continued to glare at Bracken.

Her crystal clear and plain-as-day mistrust and what felt like hatred was really quite uncomfortable to endure. Before he had the chance to ask her what her severe dislike of him was founded on, seeing as they’d just barely met, Warren stopped by and pulled Vanessa away from Kendra.

“There you are,” he said. “I was looking for you. Elise was just telling some story about a ridiculous customer of yours from the other day. Why didn’t you tell me about him? The dude who insisted on misspelling a word in his tattoo design, then got mad when it turned out misspelled on his skin?”

She rolled her eyes. “That was Elise’s customer,” she corrected.

“My bad. Maybe you should come over and make sure I understand the other stories she’s telling.”

A sigh escaped her. “I know what you’re doing,” she said to Warren. She squeezed Kendra again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m alright,” Kendra replied. “Bracken is being kind.”

“If you’re sure,” Vanessa answered. “You know where to find me.” She narrowed her eyes at Bracken once more, who was starting to feel more than a little annoyed by her attitude.

“I’m watching you,” she told him.

Bracken sent her what he hoped was his best unimpressed expression.

Vanessa shook her head at him, then turned toward Warren. “Go ahead, take my overbearing ass away from here.”

Warren shot an apologetic look at Bracken before he escorted Vanessa back toward Elise, Mara, Dale and Tanu.

“She’s been a little protective of me this week,” Kendra explained. “Sorry about that.”

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s okay. She doesn’t have to like me. I would’ve appreciated a chance for her to get to know me before deciding that she hates me, but that’s her problem, not mine. I can’t please everyone.”

Kendra blinked. “She doesn’t hate you.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

“If she hated you, she would’ve sent you back to your car and told you to never come back.”

Bracken shrugged his shoulders again. “It’s alright. I can deal with being disliked. I just wish I knew what I’d done to warrant it.”

“You didn’t do anything. She’s just being protective,” Kendra said. “I promise.”

He decided that he didn’t want to carry that particular subject any further. “Understood.”

An awkward silence fell between them for a few moments, and then Seth reappeared on the deck from the kitchen with a small plate stacked high with an assortment of mini desserts. He made his way over to them, apparently unaware of what had just happened with Vanessa, and announced, “She brought cheesecakes and brownies.”

“Did you take them all?” Kendra asked as she gestured toward his plate.

“There’s some left,” he replied. “I couldn’t stack anymore on top without them falling over.”

“Sugar addict,” Kendra teased.

Seth faked being wounded in his chest. “Kendra. My sister. You’ve hurt me.”

“Do you deny it?”

“No.”

“Well then, there you go.”

“I can’t help it,” Seth said as he chewed on one of the brownies. “Sugar is delicious.”

Bracken and Kendra both nodded their heads, then Kendra stole one of the tiny cheesecakes from Seth’s plate and popped it into her mouth.

“Hey!” Seth protested. “Get your own!”

“I can’t help it,” she replied. “Sugar is delicious.”

Bracken laughed as Seth held his plate over his head while Kendra also laughed and tried to reach it.

——

Read part 8 here!

#fablehaven #brackendra #aerinm writes #anonymous #asks #this is rapidly spinning out of control my dudes #whyyyyyyy do i do this to myself

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kumeko · 4 years

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A/N: For the @invinciblezine Calamity’s Advent Zine! I’m not 100% happy about how this ended up. I always wanted to write a dark route, Corrin turns into a tyrant after a scene in the Conquest route and instead I wrote more of Corrin’s slowly collapsing state throughout the conquest route. XD Maybe I’ll revisit that idea in the future.

…

Corrin knew what it felt like for the world to turn upside down, to lose her footing and stumble when nothing was as it should be. From the moment she’d left the Northern Fortress, it was a feeling she’d felt constantly. After all, everything she’d known was a lie. Her family couldn’t be called hers, Nohr had never been her home, and even her body wasn’t entirely human.

After all of that, she’d thought it was impossible to get surprised anymore. That there was nothing left that could shock her to her core. That wasn’t the case, sadly. Somewhere above her, the gods were laughing. Standing at the lake’s edge, she grabbed Azura’s shoulder for stability. “What?”

“We have to kill Garon,” Azura repeated softly, her eyes downcast. In the moonlight, she looked ethereal, her gossamer dress silver. Nothing about her felt solid, neither her words nor her skin, and Corrin tightened her grip unconsciously. Maybe she could chalk this up as a dream. “And the only way to prove his true identity—”

“Is to put him on Hoshido’s throne,” Corrin finished hollowly, turning away to stare at the lake. A gentle fog covered most of the water, and the parts closest to her reflected the endless stars. In another time, she’d have stared at the night sky with her family, chatting happily. Now she was faced with the choice of tearing them apart. Taking a deep breath, she sat down on the dewy grass and tried to calm her racing heart. “He really is a demon?”

“Yes.” Azura gracefully knelt beside her, tucking her skirt under her knees as she sat on the damp ground.

It’ll stain, Corrin thought idly. Jacob will be furious. Life used to be so simple in the Northern Fortress, when all she’d wanted was to prove she was good enough for Garon so she could finally join her siblings. When she’d only had one set of family, and not two. Xander had warned her once that she might not be ready for the outside world, that it was crueler than she could imagine locked away.

He’d been right. She wasn’t ready. She never had been. Yet it was too late to go back. Curling her hands into the dirt, she quietly muttered, “You know, I should have known he wasn’t my father.”

Azura rested her hand on top of hers, gently urging her to continue. “How could you?”

“I mean…” Corrin cracked a lopsided smile, leaning back to stare at the moon. “What sort of father keeps their child locked away? And it couldn’t have been strength or age—Elise wasn’t trapped with me. But I wanted to believe.” Her voice cracked. “I wanted to belong.”

Azura clasped her hands to her chest, looking down at the grass, at the moonlight glinting off the dewdrops. “It’s hard to belong. I don’t think I ever have.”

From the moment they’d met, Corrin had known they were kindred spirits. She just hadn’t realized how much. Corrin held up a hand above her, studying it. “We don’t even look the same, but then again…no one really looks like Garon.”

“He isn’t what he used to be,” Azura pointed out sadly. There was a trace of familiarity in her tone and Corrin wondered how deep it ran. “He’s…changed much.”

“That’s what Xander says too, but…” Corrin glanced at Azura. She was beautiful, bathed in the moonlight. It wasn’t just her—all of her siblings were. Camilla was gorgeous, Elise cute, Leo and Xander handsome in wildly different ways. No matter how much she looked at them, she couldn’t find Garon in them, couldn’t find his cruelty in their words or actions. The reverse also held true. She couldn’t find their kindness in Garon, couldn’t find their justice in his actions. “Do you take after your mother?”

Azura’s eyes widen before a sad smile crosses her face. “I’ve been told we look alike. I can’t remember her well.”

“Me neither.” Corrin chuckled mirthlessly, leaning forward to peer at her reflection in the glasslike water. There was nothing of Mikoto in her hair, her eyes, her frame. Maybe she took after her father, but she didn’t resemble her Hoshido siblings in the slightest. She remembered Mikoto’s arms around her, her last ragged whisper, and she bit back a sob. “And now I never will.”

She felt untethered, disconnected from the world. Even for all her years caged, she’d never felt as lost as she did now.

“You know, you’re lucky,” Azura murmured, squeezing Corrin’s hand. When she looked back in askance, Azura continued, “Camilla, Xander—your siblings, they truly care for you. Blood-related or not, they love you. And,” she paused, her eyes lowering. “Even in Hoshido, they miss you.”

Corrin turned her hand, squeezing her back. “They miss you too.”

“Maybe, but not as much as they miss you. They’ve spent years waiting for you.” Azura shook her head. There was nothing self-deprecating about her tone, only honest truth, and that was what made it sting the most. That someone as amazing as Azura thought like that about herself. “Even now, it’s you they’re fighting for.”

“They’re fighting for you too. After the war—” Corrin cut herself, realization sinking in. “The Hoshido throne. We have to conquer Hoshido.” She looked at Azura, pained. “We have to fight them.”

Azura nodded, averting her eyes. She must have realized this before. “We have to defeat them.”

Corrin gazed at the lake once more. Ryoma was proud, Takumi bitter, and Hinoka fearless. There was a chance she could convince Sakura to surrender, but the other three—they wouldn’t back down without a fight. Especially now that Corrin had slapped their hand away, had rejected their kindness and love for Nohr. “They might die.”

Azura said nothing. Her nails dug into Corrin’s skin.

“I…” Corrin’s heart was in her throat, her eyes already watery. Could she kill them? She had to, didn’t she? It was the only way she could get Garon on the throne, the only way she could kill him and bring peace. Her chest throbbed, her palms sweaty.

Xander had warned her, so long ago, that she had to be tough to survive outside. She just hadn’t realized how tough.

Corrin closed her eyes. Ryoma’s grip had been firm, but gentle. Hinoka had a playful, competitive streak. Takumi had been bitter, so terribly angry and bitter, but in time, in time he might have come to accept her. To love her. Just like Sakura, who despite her shyness, had made sure Corrin felt welcome.

Mikoto’s body had rapidly cooled in her arms after the explosion, her words so kind and forgiving. Corrin would remember that sensation for the rest of her life. Now, she’d have to remember Ryoma, remember Hinoka and Takumi and every other Hoshidan she would have to kill in this war. This wasn’t like with Ice Tribe’s rebellion or Garon’s order to kill all dancers. All of Leo’s tricks couldn’t change the truth here: one way or another, people would die.

“I have to conquer Hoshido,” she uttered softly, steeling herself. She wondered how many times a person could face heartbreak before they crumble, just how many pieces a heart can shatter into before it can’t be put back together again. “Maybe I’m more like Garon than I thought, using and killing others to get what I want. A tyrant.”

“You’re not,” Azura defended, shaking her head.

“I might have to kill my siblings.” Corrin paused, before correcting, “Your siblings.”

“They were never mine to begin with,” Azura replied sadly, her hand curling on her chest. “Besides…I was forced out of Hoshido, remember? I doubt they want me back.”

Corrin frowned, not buying a word of it. If Azura could only realize how they had looked at her, the love that had shown in Ryoma’s, Hinoka’s, and Sakura’s eyes, she wouldn’t say such things. “Even then, you don’t want them to die, do you?”

“Never,” Azura admitted reluctantly, closing her eyes. “Never.”

“Then—”

“But we have to stop Garon.” Azura opened her eyes and clenched her jaw, looking more determined than Corrin had ever seen her. “He’ll only bring ruin to everything he touches…it doesn’t matter what I want, this is more important than that.”

Was it? But Corrin couldn’t say the words. Deep in her heart, she knew it was true. For the sake of Nohr, for the sake of Hoshido, sacrifices had to be made. Her siblings had to be thrown on the altar to protect the country they loved. Curling her hand into a fist, Corrin quietly replied, “I’ll do it, so—”

“Not alone.” Cutting her off, Azura squeezed Corrin’s hand one last time before standing up. “I will not let you walk this path by yourself. Not when I suggested it. The blood on your hands is on mine as well.”

It shouldn’t have sounded as reassuring as it had. Corrin looked up at Azura, feeling like she was stepping on quicksand, and shiver ran up her spine at the path they were taking.

-x-

Corrin silently stared at the plain tent before her, its flap closed. Despite being the royal tactics chamber, it looked as simple as the other tents in the war camp. Unlike Hoshido and its golden tents, there weren’t the resources to make something similar in Nohr. It was hard enough funding the army without tossing in ornamental trinkets. Besides, even if there were, she wasn’t sure they would make it. Xander and Leo had always been of the practical sort. How the tent looked made no difference to what they did inside it.

Elise, on the other hand, would have decorated it with flowers. A smile tugged on her face at the thought and Corrin relaxed slightly before ducking her head and entering. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, making out her two brothers standing around a large table. Spread across it was a familiar map, Nohr and Hoshido covered with small figurines indicating the allotment of troops.

Noticing her, Xander turned and gave a solemn smile. As usual, his posture was a little stiff from years of being the crown prince. “You made it.”

“I thought we had to send a search party,” Leo quipped with a teasing smile.

“I wasn’t lost,” Corrin protested, her smile instantly turning into a frown. Her shoulders remained relaxed though; this was familiar, this was safe. This was her family, when all was said and done. As she approached them, she pointed at Leo’s collar. “And your collar is inside out.”

“Seriously?” Leo swore softly under his breath as he tugged on his cape. He was lucky Camilla wasn’t around to hear that. “Every. Damn. Time.”

Xander chuckled. It sounded rusty, like he was out of practice. “Leo, this happens far too often. Why do you even wear that?”

When Leo merely glowered his reply, Corrin teasingly guessed, “Aesthetic?”

“No.” Immediately, Leo snorted indignantly, and she had a feeling she’d guessed right. He scowled at her. “Nothing as frivolous as that. It is for decorum.”

“Decorum, huh?” Corrin stretched out the word, a mocking grin on her face.

“Have Niles assist you, at least,” Xander suggested, ending the discussion before it turned into an argument. He had always been diplomatic like that. “Or Odin, if he is capable.”

“I feel like that’d make it worse,” she muttered under her breath. If there was something both sets of her siblings shared it common, it was picking really strange retainers. Hinoka’s were especially odd, but Leo’s weren’t far behind. Niles never ceased his dark humour and teasing, and Odin, well, he often felt out of touch with reality.

“Nonsense, I can manage something as simple as this myself,” Leo refuted, adjusting his cape, right-collar out now. His ears were red, a tell-tale sign of embarrassment he could never hide. Turning back to the table, he gestured at the pieces, “Anyways, we have more important matters to discuss.”

Corrin snorted at the obvious topic change. Xander accepted it gracefully, as usual. Walking around the table, he leaned forward and studied the troops. “Our upcoming battle. They are all in their current locations?”

“As of this morning’s update,” Leo confirmed, idly picking up a wooden knight. He rolled it on his hand. “For the most part, we are holding them in check. We need to add extra pressure to push them back.”

The smile dropped from her face as Corrin glanced down at the table. The map was overrun with battalions. She swallowed, her heart beating in her ears. Each piece represented a hundred. Were there even that many people in Nohr? In Hoshido? A single move could alter the fate of thousands.

“We seem to be evenly matched, which is better than I expected considering their upper hand in numbers, resources, and location.” Xander frowned, his brow knitting as he examined the battle lines.

“But not in strength,” Leo added, smirking cockily.

“Don’t get too overconfident,” Xander warned, picking up a soldier that was taller than the others. “There are Hoshidans who can match us blow for blow; it will not be as simple as you think.”

Corrin stared at the soldier, realization dawning. “Is that Ryoma?”

“We needed a way to distinguish the Hoshido royal family.” Xander pointed at three points on the board where there was an archer, a Pegasus knight, and priestess, all of which were taller than the others of their class. It was her entire family in a wooden block set.

Leo set down his soldier and picked up Takumi. He snorted inelegantly. “This one’s just an archer, I highly doubt he’s a threat.”

“Leo.” Xander sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I’m just a swordsman. A weapon can be deadly in the right hands.”

“There is nothing just about you,” Leo retorted, setting the piece down. “Though you might be right. We just don’t have enough information on them.”

“Information…” Corrin repeated, picking up Sakura and rolling the piece in her hand. If they had enough information, could they clear the battle without killing? It was a possibility, however slim. Noticing the silence around her, she looked up and realized they were staring at her expectantly. Surprised, she stepped back. “Me?”

“Well, you were with them for a while,” Leo pointed out, rolling his eyes. “You know more than we do.”

“The information would be very helpful, though I understand if it’s too hard for you right now,” Xander added supportively, walking around to squeeze her shoulder. It was rare for him to play brother and not crown prince.

“Quit babying her.” Despite his harsh words, Leo didn’t push her. Instead, he glanced at the tent entrance. “Maybe Azura could help—”

“I can do it,” Corrin blurted out immediately. Azura couldn’t be dragged into this any deeper than she already was. The betrayal would be less, coming from her lips rather than Azura’s. It would still be a betrayal, nonetheless. Her heart sank, remembering their kindness and how she was trampling on it now.

Xander hummed approvingly. “Good.”

-x-

“Corrin!” Hinoka gasped, the Yato buried hilt-deep into her chest. Blood dripped down her chest, splattering darkly against the earth. “Why?”

Corrin woke up, drenched in sweat. That was a dream. Only a dream. There was a sticky sensation on her hands, the false memory of Hinoka’s blood, and she wiped them off on her blanket. The feeling wouldn’t leave, even though it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It had only been a dream.

“Shit.” She covered her eyes with the back of her hand, breathing heavily as she tried to get her bearings. Every night, it was one sibling or the other. Her hands were stained red, her sword piercing their body, and a single accusatory why lingered in the air before she woke. A dream that felt all too real. She could only hope that she hadn’t gained foresight.

There would be no sleeping further tonight. Her heart calmed and Corrin slipped out of her tent quietly. She didn’t want Jakob to notice her absence; only one of them had to lose their sleep. Around her was a tent city, small lanterns here and there giving her the vague shape of the army’s campground. It was a dark, moonless night. Everyone else was asleep, as they should be.

Quietly, Corrin walked a familiar path through the tents, stopping in front of her friends’ and families’ tents. The layout was the same at every stop, Xander’s planning meticulous. First was Elise’s chambers, Elise silently polishing her armour as she kept watch. By now, Corrin was certain all of the retainers knew of her nightly check-ups. Niles stood guard at Leo’s tent, his lips tugging into a lazy smirk at the sight of her. Laslow was nodding off at Xander’s, no doubt covering for Peri’s shift as well.

Her last stop was Camilla’s tent, with the steadfast Beruka watching from the shadows. Corrin sighed with relief. It had only been a dream, after all.

-x-

Corrin watched as Camilla tightened the straps of her saddle, her delicate arms far stronger than they appeared. Considering the hefty axe she preferred, they had to be. Far above them, Selena was already in the air with her dragon, circling around warily as she kept an eye out for any enemies. Beruka was impossible to spot. It felt like such an ordinary thing, as though her sister was leaving for another scouting mission, when it was anything but.

“Are you sure about this?” Corrin asked softly.

Camilla tightened her strap one last time before gently patting her wyvern’s tough hide. The sun had only set minutes ago and already almost all of its rays were gone, bathing them in darkness. Above them, the stars hadn’t appeared yet, this twilight hour one without any heavenly witnesses. Smiling, she turned to Corrin. “About what, sweetie?”

“This, all of it.” Corrin rubbed her arm, her eyes flickering from Camilla to the ground. Shame crept into her voice. “You don’t have to do this, you know. Beruka can carry it out without you. I can send someone else.”

“My Beruka is very good at assassinations and sneaking around,” Camilla concurred, hand on her hip as she stared up at the sky. There was a gentle smile on her face, as though she was talking about Elise sneaking treats and not her retainer’s capabilities in murder. “However, you gave me this task.” She turned around, stepping toward Corrin and reaching out. Her right-hand caressed Corrin’s cheek. Expression tender, she finished, “And I never turn down anything my darling family asks.”

And that was the crux of it, that the one who’d decided Camilla should go on this assassination mission was Corrin. That the one who had looked at the map, at all the small soldiers, and discovered the quickest way forward was through subterfuge and sabotage was herself. It had been her decision, and yet the consequences wouldn’t occur by her own doing. She covered Camilla’s hand with her own, pained. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, this isn’t my first assassination.” Camilla chuckled. Her hair flowed in the wind, covering her face. Despite her square shoulders, she sounded tired. “And it won’t be my last. Some battles are better done quietly, when no one can witness them. I don’t mind, as long as I can protect all of you.”

“Camilla…” Corrin hugged her sister and closed her eyes. There had been times, when she had been younger and Camilla had visited for longer than a day, that she’d spot a dragon leaving the castle in the middle of the night. Had it been her sister, even then? Or Jakob or someone else she knew and cared about, someone else whose job it was to clean up secretly. It wasn’t hard to imagine Camilla’s axe in the darkness, coated in thick red liquid. “I won’t—” ask for any other missions, Corrin almost added, cutting herself off before she could lie.

Because there was no way that could be the truth. Not in a war like this. Not when she wanted to minimize casualties. If only she was stronger, better, smarter. If only she wasn’t so weak that she had to rely on her family like this.

“Don’t cry, sweetie.” Camilla pulled herself away, still wearing that gentle expression. It was a mirror image of Mikoto’s and maybe she’d been wrong, maybe Corrin had known what a mother was like all this time. “Just smile for me, that’s all I need.”

Corrin steeled her heart, pushing away her regrets as she smiled. “Come back safely.”

-x-

Pulling a sword out of a body was hard. It took a certain amount of strength and finesse depending on where in the body she stabbed. It was easier in the arms and legs. A single strong yank was enough to free her weapon then. In the torso, however, it took a saw-like motion, it took grunting and sweating and listening to a person choke in their own blood, their hand limply reaching out to grab her.

It was a sensation she wished she didn’t understand. It was a sensation she wished was imprinted in her skin and bones, engraved into her until she could never forget. Corrin knew how blood sprayed when she cut a body, where to strike to minimize the splatter. How it looked when she flicked it off her sword. How long it took a person to die, the wet sound as they tried to take a breath.

It was terrifying, the facts she was learning about the human body.

“Corrin?”

Elise’s voice shook her out of her thoughts and Corrin scanned her surroundings. The battle might be over, but there could be Hoshidan stragglers lurking about, one careless mistake away from striking her down. Around her were damaged houses, windows broken and plumes of smoke escaping crumbling walls. Despite her orders to not endanger civilian life, she still found village after village like this and she could never tell if her soldiers were disobeying her or if Iago had overruled her orders. It didn’t matter. In the end, the result was the same: Hoshidans without a home. Children without parents. Dead bodies strewn across the street and not all of them were soldiers.

Still keeping a tight grip on her sword, Corrin replied, “It’s safe, Elise.”

Behind her, low-heeled shoes clacked against a cobbled road. Elise walked slowly, her staff clutched tightly as she nervously looked at each soldier. Her long, golden braids were speckled with blood, her usually immaculate dress dirty and crinkled. The healing stations must have overflowed today and Corrin felt a pang of sympathy.

“It’s okay, they’re all dead,” Corrin reassured her, approaching to meet her halfway. “You’re safe.”

Elise paled, her skin taking on a sickly shine. “They are?” She looked around her, her eyes sad. “All of them?”

“Yes.” Corrin bit her cheek. Whether it was Nohr or Hoshido, the soldiers were too proud, all too many of them preferring to die on their feet than to surrender and live. “What’re you doing here, Elise?”

“Oh.” Elise’s shoulders sank and she loosened her grip on her staff. “I…I thought I could save someone. Anyone, really.” She looked up at Corrin, giving a troubled smile. “Not just our soldiers.”

Corrin’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Elise brightened slightly, remembering her past successes. “I actually saved a whole bunch of Hoshido soldiers!” She held out her hands, increasing the gap between them as though to indicate how many. “They might be prisoners, but they’re alive.”

“That’s great, Elise!” Corrin forced a smile as she wrapped her arms around her sister, hugging her tightly.

It was good news. It was great news. And if her heart didn’t feel light at it, if she sensed something dark lurking in the edges of her sight, well, she’d just become more cynical these days.

-x-

Azura was drawn to water in a way she couldn’t entirely explain. It was more than just her connection to that other world or even to her late mother. Lakes were a safe spot, a place she could sit, think, and be a little less afraid. Whenever they camped by a lake, she would invariably end up in front of it, sinking her toes into the shallow banks as she calmed down.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one drawn to it. Azura wasn’t entirely surprised when she spotted Corrin at the lake’s edge, hugging herself as she stared down at the waters. They’d been bumping into one another here more and more these days and Azura found she welcomed the company. There was something comforting about her friend.

“Corrin,” she greeted, standing beside her. Their reflections rippled in the water.

“Azura,” Corrin croaked, eyes red-rimmed.

“What’s wrong?” Immediately, Azura touched Corrin’s arm. Her skin felt cold to the touch—just how long had she been here? And had she always been so pale, so gaunt?

“I…” Corrin averted her gaze, her eyes firmly locked onto the water. She didn’t shy away from Azura’s touch at least. “Elise had been healing Hoshido soldiers lately.” She laughed wetly. “Prisoners of war, but alive.”

Azura could already guess where this was headed. With Garon, it wasn’t hard to know just how he’d react to that news.

“Garon doesn’t take prisoners. Iago had me carry out the execution.” Corrin’s voice grew fainter and fainter and had she always looked this small? “Though none of that surprised me.”

“Oh Corrin.” Azura worried her lip, hesitating before gingerly wrapping an arm around Corrin. She had never been one for physical affection or even good at it, but Corrin had done so much for her and she had to help her friend now. “I’m sorry.”

“The worst part was that it wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be.” Corrin’s tired voice carried a trace of desperation and she hunched over slightly, curling into herself. “I used to vomit in the bushes and now I just…” She turned to Azura, scared. “Maybe I really am like Garon. A monster.”

“You’re not,” Azura refuted automatically, wrapping both arms around Corrin now to draw her into a proper hug. “You’re not.”

Corrin laughed weakly. “I’m fighting to save Hoshido and Nohr, but all I find are corpses. Just who am I saving?”

You saved me, Azura almost said, but what was one life in comparison to thousands? Whatever Hoshidans survived, they did so out of sight, away from their host army. Azura had always known that the path before them stood on the bodies of innocents, but it was one thing to know it, another to experience it. For all of Corrin’s strengths, it was something impossible to prepare for.

And what lay ahead was even worse. Corrin shuddered in her arms, crying soundlessly. They were days away from the capital, from Takumi, Ryoma, Hinoka, and Sakura. If Corrin could break this deeply from strangers, she would be shattered by the time they reached the throne.

Not for the first time, Azura wished she had some prowess in the battlefield. Her hands weren’t strong enough to take this duty out of Corrin’s. All she had was her voice, her song, and so she hummed softly into the night air, pushing a little power to calm Corrin.

“It’ll be okay,” she sang, stroking Corrin’s back. “I’ll be with you.”

At the very least, she could keep her promise. They were both bloodstained, and if this path led to hell, well, they’d go hand in hand.

#fire emblem fates #corrin #azura #camilla #leo #xander #elise #fire emblem #fanfic

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formerchaoslord · 8 months

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hey gunvolt did you know theres a universe where asimov's shot did kill you and the copen from that world eventually was able to cause a system of adept and human equality, i hear he goes by IX sometimes and can travel realities.

"Really? RiFT did say that there were branching timelines of my dimension, but I never knew there was one where Copen of all people would help create Human and Adept equality. The Multiverse ceases to amaze me."

"You sort of glossed over the fact that you also died in that dimension, Gunvolt."

"That's because that part doesn't surprise me. Remember, RiFT saved me from a dimension where I should have died."

"The same goes for me. But I'm glad RiFT saved us and gave us another chance. I'm even glad we can be friends now, Gunvolt."

"Yeah. Me, too, Elise."

#new data discovered (ask)#data analyzed (answered)#mystery data (anon)#gunvolt strikes! (ic)#elecman has logged in (ic)#elise sets her gaze (ic)#azure striker gunvolt #megaman battle network

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aurorapillar · 4 years

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Title: the most wonderful time of the year Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Characters: Chuuya Nakahara, Dazai Osamu, Mori Ougi, Elise Summary: Snowball fights are hard to resist, even for teen mafisos

For most of Chuuya’s remembered life winter had not been a time of fun or happiness, rather it had always been a time of hardship and jealousy; winter brought the cold and for kids living on the street that could be a death sentence. When your very life depended on finding shelter and warm clothes, it was hard to find any joy in the season nor feel anything but envy for those who could go home to a warm house and didn't need to worry about anything beyond their holiday plans.

There had been plenty of years spent huddled in abandoned buildings with other street kids, a temporary unspoken truce built between them by the cold wind that broken windows did far too little to keep out; plenty of years gazing longingly at passerby’s with their presents and through the shop windows at the colorful displays and delicious-looking food, knowing that none of that was anything that could be his.

He remembered one night that one of the older street rats, one who’d had the chance to experience a home and family before losing everything, had told the younger ones the story of the little match girl; he told how she’d imagined herself living the life she saw through windows, how she lit each of her matches in an attempt to keep warm, and how come time that her matches had all burned up she’d died in the freezing cold, only to be taken away by an angel to heaven. He had never really been sure why the guy had told the story, whether he’d been trying to offer some kind of weird reassurance that ‘hey, if you freeze to death this winter, you’ll go to a better place’ or if he was trying to scare them, but it had made Chuuya wonder if one day some of them would meet that fate.

He’d never found out though, as by the next year he’d become part of The Sheep and things were easier; with a big group of kids they could send some to cause distractions while others stole stuff, and as a result, things like warm clothes and food were a certainty rather than something that relied on chance. More people also meant a base was possible as they had the numbers to defend it, they didn’t have to worry about someone attacking and stealing their things, or at least not successfully doing, people had certainly tried.

Of course that hadn't meant everything was sunshine and rainbows, they had had no heating in the building they called home, relying on blankets and layers to keep them warm; they'd also had to be careful to avoid unnecessary wear and tear on their clothes, just because they could easily steal new clothes didn’t mean it was wise to draw attention to themselves by doing it too often. There were never any presents either, if someone were to find something worth having they certainly weren’t going to give it to someone else, something like that you hoarded for yourself.

Overall, winters spent with The Sheep were a definite step up from winters spent on the street but did nothing to make the season an enjoyable time.

At 16 though, and as a member of the Port Mafia, things were different; he had a nice warm apartment, even if it was one he had to share with Dazai; he had plenty of warm clothes and the means to buy more if he needed to; and for the first time in his life if he wanted to he could provide gifts for the people who were important to him. It was strange really, all of those were relatively simple things that most people took for granted, and yet just having them had changed the way winter felt.

The snow didn’t seem grey and dreary, but rather bright and cheerful; the cold wasn’t biting and cruel, but crisp and refreshing; the lights - his thoughts were cut off by the impact of a snowball on the back of his head, and he whirled around with a snarl to see Dazai already packing more snow together and looking far too pleased with himself.

“What the h*** bastard?” Chuuya growled in annoyance, holding back a shiver as wet slush slid down his neck and into his shirt, it felt disgusting and he was more than prepared to throttle Dazai as revenge for it. The teen in questioned laughed and pulled back his arm in preparation for letting another snowball fly,

“Chibi needs to work on his...OOF” Dazai’s taunt was cut off as a snowball of Chuuya’s own snowball hit him smack dab in the face, knocking him onto his butt and making Chuuya wish he had a camera with him.

“What was that Dazai?” He questioned, his grin bordering on feral and Dazai gave him a disgruntled look before grabbing a handful of snow and flinging it at Chuuya without even bothering to pack it together. Naturally, the loose flakes were easy to dodge, but the few seconds spent getting out of the way were enough for Dazai to stand up and duck behind a tree, where he began to scoop up snow to form a proper snowball.

The sight of it made Chuuya’s grin widen, he’d only ever really been in one snowball fight, back when he’d still been part of the Sheep; some of the other kids had been having one when he and the other teens were coming back from a supply run and a stray snowball had hit Shirase in the ear, prompting him to start lecturing them about paying attention to their surroundings and how they needed to be more careful. That hadn’t lasted long though before Yuan had gotten annoyed and slam dunked a pile of snow onto his head, which had resulted in the start of a free for all that only ended when they were all soaked and exhausted.

Of course, a good portion of them ended up getting sick and that had been a nightmare to deal with, but it had been fun and was a happy memory he didn’t think he’d ever forget. It had also been a very therapeutic experience to just let loose and throw snow at people he was annoyed at; because despite what the rest of the Sheep had thought and what Dazai probably thought as well, he hadn’t been totally unaware that he was being manipulated, and while he’d been fine letting it happen most of the time there were times he got ticked off at some of their pushiness.

Because of that several of his snowballs had ended up aimed towards some of the more frustrating Sheep members and by the time the fight was over he’d felt much better, he was hoping that this fight would turn out similar. Although Dazai had turned out to not be quite as bad as Chuuya had thought based off of first impressions, in fact, he could be fun company on occasion, he was still a frequently infuriating person and there were plenty of times when he wanted nothing more than to punch him hard in his smug face. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that because Dazai was such a beanpole of a teen that even someone without Chuuya’s abnormal strength could probably snap him in half, which meant even when they sparred he had to hold back and be careful not to hurt him too badly. He didn’t have to worry about that with a snowball fight though, so long as he didn’t pack them with rocks or ice the worst Dazai would get was a nasty bruise.

Of course, things would be different if he could use his ability, a heavy enough snowball could probably break bones, but No Longer Human negated any chance of that; still, it was something to keep in mind for the future, it would be rather humiliating for enemies after all if they were defeated by a snowball.

The time Chuuya had spent ruminating was enough for Dazai to have finished his snowball plus a small pile of more and the teen found himself quickly having to jump behind his own tree to avoid being hit.

“You’re being rather slow today Chuuya, is the snow too deep for someone your height to move around in?” Chuuya’s eye twitched at the taunt but he forced himself to ignore it and focused on packing snow into a ball which was then aimed directly at the other teen's head. It missed, thanks to Dazai moving his head slightly at the last second, but the glare the near hit earned him made up for it.

The two of them carried on like that for a while, throwing both snowballs and insults at one another and just being the teens they were. It was fun, and enough of a distraction that Chuuya didn’t register the sound of footsteps behind him, not until he’d dodged to the side to avoid getting hit and saw Dazai’s eyes widen with horror at the same time he heard the sound of snow impacting against something.

Turning slightly to glance behind him, Chuuya froze at the sight of a bemused looking Mori carefully brushing snow off of his coat, as the last of the flakes melted under his touch he turned his gaze on the two, an unreadable expression in his gaze.

“Chuuya, Dazai.” He greeted mildly and Chuuya felt his mouth dry up because they had just hit the boss of the Port Mafia with a snowball and they were probably going to be in so much trouble. Admittedly, of course, it was mostly Dazai’s fault; he’d been the one to start the fight and he’d thrown the snowball that had hit Mori, but it also wouldn’t have hit him in the first place if Chuuya hadn’t dodged. Not to mention the two of them were executives and really should be setting a better example than playing around in the snow, it wouldn’t be surprising if Mori was upset or disappointed in them.

Still, he was trying to come up with to say to defend the two of them, when suddenly Mori smiled and stepped to the side to reveal Elise standing behind him, a wide grin on her face. In the years to come, Chuuya would maintain that he had been too caught off guard by the fact that their boss had joined in the snowball fight, even if it was via proxy with his ability, to properly react; and he’d remind Dazai when he tried to claim otherwise that he too hadn’t reacted in time, but the fact remained that both of them ended up on the ground with snow down their shirts.

What had previously been a one-on-one fight between Dazai and Chuuya quickly turned into a team-up between the two as they faced Elise’s onslaught; despite what her cute appearance suggested, she was a vicious opponent. All the while Mori watched in amusement, never interfering except for a comment here and there.

“Elise, don’t aim for the face.”

“Chuuya, no matter how tempting it may be, don’t try and shove Dazai’s head into a snowdrift.”

“Dazai, don’t you dare throw that in this direction.”

Of course, Mori had been a doctor long before becoming boss of the mafia and so the moment the two of them had started shivering they were forced inside and ordered to change into dry clothes before they caught a cold.

It was only later, sitting on the couch in his warm apartment with a mug of hot chocolate, that he realized what the unreadable expression he’d seen on Mori’s face earlier was.

Fondness.

#my writing #chuuya nakahara #Dazai Osamu #Mori Ougai

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missbemaeve · 4 years

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IF ONLY I THOUGHT OF THE RIGHT WORDS, I WOULDN’T BE BREAKING APART - YSTLC

remembering you running soft through the night, you were bigger and brighter and whiter than snow ( pictures of you ; the cure )

henry william castle, the bad boy with a heart of gold

“but man is not made for defeat. a man can be destroyed but not defeated.” – ernest hemingway

– BASIC INFORMATION –

» full name - henry william castle

» nicknames - harry

» age - nineteen

» birthday - march ninth, nineteen-sixty-five

» birthplace - manhattan, new york

» zodiac sign - pisces

» current residence - brooklyn, new york

» gender - cis male

» occupation - full time journalism major, art/philosophy minor student at nyu

– HEALTH –

» physical health - harry is averagely healthy. his achilles heel would be his lungs ; he’s smoked since he was fourteen and so his lung capacity is not as great as it could be but it doesn’t bother him because the only thing he runs from is his feelings.

» scars - he has some on his hands from pottery equipment when scoring clay ; he has one on his shin from where he and maeve were ice skating and he fell and her blade sliced through his jeans when they were younger ; he has many smaller ones from riding his motorcycle on his arms and legs from wiping out.

» broken (any) bones - he’s never broken a bone but he’s also not particularly adventurous, aside from his motorcycle riding, so it’s unsurprising.

– MENTAL HEALTH –

» extrovert or introvert - intensely introverted

» logical or creative - he balances the line between logic and creativity. because of his dual minor, he’s spent a lot of time reading about formal logic but he gets a lot of his emotions out with creativity via painting, sketching, pottery, and photography.

» optimist or pessimist - pessimist ; he’s found that preparing himself for the worst allows him to be pleasantly surprised when things turn out better.

» phobias / fears - oblivion ; he doesn’t know what is out there but the thought of an empty void paralyzes him.

» problems - because of his past, it isn’t unimaginable that harry has a hard time trusting others and building any sort of worthwhile relationship. the week he was born, his mother surrendered him at a fire station in manhattan with two letters: one for him to open someday and one for whoever found him. he was adopted by a loving couple who gave him everything he ever wanted but he never learned how to let himself feel wanted. the one friend that he let in and even fell in love with, as much as a teen could love, was ripped from his grasp and he has never opened himself up to the possibility of that pain since. he finds it easier to just be on his own.

– PERSONALITY –

» goals / dreams - harry doesn’t let himself plan further than a day ahead. whatever happens, will happen and he can’t let himself care. he thinks that maybe one day he’d like to be a reporter and tell stories that need to be told himself.

» quirks / habits - he chews the caps of his pens and the ends of his paint brushes when he’s lost in thought ; he leaves notes everywhere (on napkins, in margins of books and articles, etc.) of half-complete trains of thought

» likes - seeing the sun set and rise in the same night ; creating art (he’s sold a few pieces to local galleries from a series of a mysterious girl) ; satire ; dark and observational humor ; going in to old, large cathedrals and just sitting in a back pew while he just looks at the stations of the cross and stained glass and thinks in the quiet ; reading existentialist work ; the color grey

» dislikes - overly-chatty people ; people who try too hard ; thinking about what lays ahead ; screwball or farcical comedy ; the smell of coffee ; his workspace being too organized

» flaws - he has a hard time learning to let go of things. everything that he’s ever gone through has only piled on top of his soul and weighed him down. he can get annoyed and angry relatively easily.

– FAMILY –

» parents - sienna grace davis-castle ( adopted mother ; kate beckinsale ), william peter castle ( adopted father ; bill nighy ), abigail barnes ( birth mother ; thandie newton )

» sibling(s) - none.

» children - none.

– APPEARANCE –

» height - five feet, nine inches

» weight - one hundred and sixty pounds

» eyes - brown

» hair - brown

» face and complexion - harry is half-black so his skin is light brown. in the sun, where he spends very little time, his skin only darkens and he doesn’t burn. he doesn’t have any freckles or moles on his face.

» build - lean and trim, subtle muscles ; average height

» defining marks - he has several tattoos up his arms and on his torso ; he’s rarely seen without facial hair because he thinks it makes him seem less approachable.

» dress style - he tends to gravitate more towards sweaters and jackets; he wears jeans and band t-shirts when he’s just hanging around his apartment. it’s rare to see him without his messenger bag where he keeps a notebook and a sketch pad with pencils in case inspiration strikes. on his right wrist is a woven bracelet that he’s had since he was eight years old ; he tells most people that he can’t unknot it and doesn’t care enough to cut it off but he’s actually just never been able to make himself take it off.

» faceclaim - jordan fisher

– ROMANTIC & SEXUAL –

» marital status - unmarried.

» sexual preference - heterosexual.

» ever had sex - he’s had several hookups since he went to college but none that have mattered or panned out.

» opinion on sex - it’s whatever to him; sure, it’s nice but it’s not like it always means something. he’s pretty careful to let any girl that he hooks up with know that it’s not going anywhere.

» opinion on relationships - they all end at some point and someone gets hurt so it’s best if they just don’t happen to begin with.

» turn on’s - snarky and sarcastic girls who can match his wit ; the feeling of nails gently tracing across his skin ; the way a girl’s gaze drops from his eyes to his lips in the split second before they kiss ; dark, curly hair ; honesty

» turn off’s - girls who try too hard to get his attention ; lying to him

» past relationships - maeve standish ( zoey deutch )

» current relationship - none

» future relationship - elise marie kent ( sophie turner )

– FRIENDSHIP –

» big group of friends or several close friends - preferably none ; he’s a lone wolf and doesn’t really see himself finding anyone to actually be friends with. he’s fine with his acquaintances as they are.

» best friend - even after her death, maeve standish. she’s the only person that he ever found that understood how he felt in his life.

» ever lied to a friend - no. he’s honest because he doesn’t have any reason not to be ; the truth always comes out anyway.

» the most horrible thing they did to a friend - [ see deepest regret ]

» list of friends -

; maeve standish ( zoey deutch )

; [ eventually ] james houseman ( david corenswet )

– MORALITY –

» ever been drunk - yes, he’ll occasionally find himself at a house party on weekends if his classmates ask him.

» lied to a significant other - considering his only real one was maeve, no.

» cheated on significant other - never.

» gotten into a fight - only one with maeve’s father the night that they returned to their apartment without her.

» deepest regret - not fighting harder to keep maeve safe with him before her parents sent her away.

» religion - he doesn’t believe in anything; he’s a staunch atheist

– MISCELLANEOUS –

» playlist - shorturl.at/dMZ67

» instagram -

» gifboard -

» inspiration -

#bio #harry castle

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norbah · 5 years

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Reader x Lukas (FEH)

A fluffy little piece for the Cupid's Arrow event, as hosted by @imaginesforfe and @fire-emblem-drabbles. This was written for @thisway-imagines, who I get the feeling really likes Lukas. I did my best, and I really hope you enjoy. Happy Valentine's Day!

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Lukas

It is no secret to the Order of Heroes (or to anybody with eyes in their head, really), that you are quite fond of Lukas. And really, why should you not be? He is not only an unbreachable defensive wall, but a cool-headed and analytical man. Indeed, your most trusted advisor in these terrible times.

You know what some say about him. He’s cold and unfeeling. Rumor has it he has no emotions at all. A reptile.

But you lend them no credence. You know him better than that. A shoulder to lean on, a level head to restrain your own temper, and a confidant with whom to share your insecurities. He always listens calmly. He never judges, merely offers suggestions and support in that smooth voice of his. It doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes, either.

And if you wanted more than just friendship with him, well… was that really such a bad thing?

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

It was bound to happen, you can’t help but muse, as you sit in the library next to him, a book in front of each on you. The two of you seem to go everywhere together. Whether it’s the tactics room, a stroll through the castle grounds, or a good book to relax in the library, you seem glued at the shoulder. How could you not fall for him, really?

You realize you’ve been staring at him for over a full minute now. You tear your gaze from him and fix it back onto your book before he can notice, and silently curse the heat creeping up your cheeks. Much more than this, and it might begin to affect your work.

But surprisingly, it’s Lukas who breaks the silence, as he closes his book gently with a quiet sigh. He can’t seem to look at you, instead finding his gaze occupied by the bookshelves in front of the two of you as he begins to speak.

“I’ve… been thinking recently, (y/n),” he says softly, almost tentatively. You close your own book, worries about yourself set aside for now. This seems important to him. “I know what others think of me. And they’re not wrong. I can be… detached. Dispassionate. Emotionally flat, I believe were the words Canas used. I know I am these things. Clive has told me before that they are admirable qualities, but if I’m being honest, they worried me for a long time.”

It’s a testament to the truth of his words that his voice doesn’t wobble, doesn’t shift. He’s not nervous, merely telling you the facts as he sees them. He seems almost clinical about this. You can’t help but wonder what this all is leading to.

Lukas glances at you and a soft smile appears on his lips. He seems to draw some mirth from your anticipation.

“To tell you the truth, (y/n), back in Zofia, there was a woman. I was involved with her,” he says. You can feel your heart stop in your chest, and the blush in your cheeks recede as the blood flees from your face.

“This emotional detachment worried me. For the longest time, I didn’t know if I loved her or not.” Oh. Oh no. “But now, having been here this long, I finally know for sure.”

Oh. So this is what heartbreak feels like. Nobody told you it would hurt quite like this. Like a dagger made of ice slipped between your ribs. Like something is stuck in your throat, and keeps you from breathing.

Your eyes fall away from Lukas’s face and onto the book on the table. You can’t even read the title. Your vision seems a little blurry for some reason. Maybe this is a sign you’ve been poisoned. Yes. That must be it. You must go find Elise or Maria or Lucius and have them check you. As quickly as possible. You’ll start looking for them in your room. Under the covers. Where nobody can hear sobbing.

But just as you contemplate leaving, a hand, warm and gentle grasps your own and snaps you out of the spiral you were falling into. The hand, Lukas’s hand, squeezes your own reassuringly, and you look back up at him. The ice dagger in your chest melts when you see the way his eyes look at you, when you see the way he smiles, ever so slightly more soft around his mouth than in other times. The dagger is gone, but a new problem arises. Somehow butterflies have made their way into your stomach. Big ones.

“I know for sure now that I do not love her. I never did. I know this because with her I never felt this way. I never felt the way I do when I’m with you.”

“I… I love you, (y/n),” he says, almost hesitant to let the words out, and you feel yourself melt. But when the last one is out, his eyes widen a little. “I love you,” he repeats, almost to himself, and you can see the way he’s tasting the words on his tongue, marveling at such a simple phrase with so much meaning. With so much emotion.

You realize now that he’s actually a little flushed, a dusting of red over his cheeks that you’ve never seen on him before. And his smile has widened every time he has said those three magical little words. It is wider, and softer, and much more genuine, much more alive, than his usual subdued one. He looks undeniably, unquestionably happy.

You say nothing, but simply scooch a little closer to him, and lean your head on his shoulder, letting your eyes drift shut as you hear him chuckling to himself. You squeeze his hand in yours, and his head comes to rest on your own.

This may not be a passionate declaration of love. There are no roses. No loud, showy gestures to make sure everybody knows how he feels.

But this confession is coming from Lukas.

So it’s already much better than any showy display of passion could ever hope to be.

#imaginesforfe #fire-emblem-drabbles #thisway-imagines #cupid's arrow #fire emblem: heroes #lukas #fire emblem echoes #fluff #romance #god i hope i didn't bung this up #it's my first time writing fluff with a man #did i do good?

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siamesesouls · 5 years

Text

An Awkward Party

—“Come on King, I want to meet your house now”

Diane was surprisingly impatient for King to bring her to his home, it was her first time going there, and before that they went for ice cream to celebrate his birthday. They’ve been a couple for quite some time, but it was still his first birthday with her; she was so beautiful, bright and cheerful, he couldn’t just believe how lucky he was to be by her side; just as he was thinking about her kindly she noticed the heavy blush on his cheeks, calling him a naughty boy because of how “nasty” he was looking at her, as he began to spout nonsense in a way to apologize for his apparent rudeness, she decided to calm him down in the best way possible. Diane came up close for a melting kiss along an apology as she was just kidding and she didn’t mean to scare him like that; a sigh of relief came out of his lungs, “Thank God”.

As they were just steps outside the house King took out his keys to open the door, turning the lock to enter and have a quiet evening with his lovely girlfriend, he noticed the lights were turned off, the house felt dark….yet not empty at all, in was in that moment that Diane held his hand tight against hers. “You’ll see why” What was that supposed to mean? He couldn’t ask her though as the room was filled with light, giving a clear sight of King’s whole family and yeah, WHOLE.

—“What the-“He was abruptly interrupted by the collective “Surprise!” yell.

He was stone cold not by the sudden surprise or happiness of his relatives being with him that day…as Diane was still latched onto his hand, the sweat came out running from his face “Shit, I haven’t told them about her yet”

—“Uuuh who might this charming young lady be?” The air was way denser for King, he couldn’t come up with anything to say, and of course Diane answered for him.

—“I’m Diane, King’s girlfriend a pleasure to finally meet you all” she said it with a huge smile on her face “Did she knew about this?”

—“My, my, Son you picked yourself a cute one” his mom Elise said while looking at his son’s lover.

—“Yeah, how did you manage to pull that off, Harlequin?” an uncle spoke on the background and everyone began to laugh as the awkward questions began.

“How much is he paying you sweetheart?”

“A girl like you with someone like him? That’s unheard of”

God he wanted the earth to swallow him right now so bad, what did he possibly do to deserve any of this? He was paying much more attention to Diane since he was expecting her to run away horrified by his family’s behavior. “Please no more”.

—“I just care by who he is. He’s been amazing to me ever since the first day we met, and I just…can't imagine being in love with somebody else” Her words made his heart melt, how could someone be so amazing, he totally felt like he didn’t deserve her at all.

—“You are perfect, please if I may ask of you to forgive us for suddenly prying into your affairs” King’s mom begged Diane; she felt totally guilty about making her boyfriend’s family suddenly apologize to her “It’s okay, don’t worry”. Wow, she managed to control herself better than him.

King felt somewhat relieved to see Diane getting along with them as they all yelled “Welcome to the family, Diane” she took kindly those words and let him know that with a big grin directed to King.

Elise invited the whole family to sit down and enjoy their meal, “Today’s menu is grilled pork, I hope you like it Diane” joy arose from the pigtailed girl’s face, she was so hungry.

They all prepared a chair for her next to King; he was still preoccupied for Diane, “What if they start asking questions again?” Dread set on his cold face, he couldn’t wait for this divine punishment for whatever he did be over as soon as possible.

After the delicious supper, Diane stood up off the table, asking where the bathroom was to Elise; “Oh it’s right down the hall, the last door at the right” she excused herself and went there. King felt less nervous at the sight of her not in the room just for enough time so he could get his bearings; sadly his relatives bombarded him with questions about her. “How did they meet?” “When and how did they start dating?” He stopped listening to the questions just as he could sense Diane coming back to the table. As she was ready to sit down again the last voice rang inside the room like a thunder roar “I can already see her on a wedding dress”

The footsteps of her beloved suddenly felt silent; as King jumped from his chair totally embarrassed in an attempt to explain things to her. His worst fears came out as she dashed away from him with her pigtails covering her beet red face. Locking herself inside King’s room; his family totally killed the mood for them, as he went alone to see how his loved one was doing, knocking the door only to find no response at all. Despair surrounded him as he found himself at the worst situation possible. “Goddamn it”.

—“I’m so sorry Diane; if you want...I can take you back to your home” A voice of loneliness took over his words, thinking it was the end of their relationship and with it his happiness, when Diane came out of the room, completely relaxed now as she hugged the slim boy, enveloping him on her warmth.

They returned to the living hall where the family was waiting for them with an expression of deep regret on their eyes, they couldn’t form an apology as their gaze was deeply focused on the floor; they were no doubt King’s family.

—“I’m sorry I worried you, I shouldn’t have left like that. And I understand if you want me to lea-“

—“Please, forgive us for our total disrespect for you and King’s relationship, we just want you to be comfortable and yet we did the opposite, and we are the ones who definitely understand if you don’t want to be part of our family….but please don’t let our behavior ruin your vision about my son, he really loves you”

—“Don’t even say that, I’m glad I can be part of this family now, thank you so much for worrying about me, but I’m fine now, I know I kind of killed the mood before, still I wanted to keep celebrating my lover’s birthday with all of you, as a family”

What a way of liven up the mood, and it worked; the family was once again celebrating as both King and Diane enjoyed their time together until it was time for her to get back home.

Elise told Diane she could come back any time she wanted to visit them at which she joyfully agreed.

The young girl decided to walk home alone, but not before giving Harlequin his birthday present. A heart shaped collar she made on class so he could forever remember she would always be by his side.

Uncertain of letting her walk alone at night he said goodbye to her and thanked her for enduring his family’s visit; once again she met her lips with his, this time letting her tongue enter as well to explore his mouth.

—“I promise, that the next time your family greets me I’ll be wearing a white dress, with you by my side” he stood up numb by what she just implied. She truly makes him so happy; little he knows she feels the same way about him.

He entered the house once again with her new collar hanging on his neck as his family pretended they didn’t spy to them at all. He just let it slide.

Just for today, he would let everything slide….

#kiane #diane x king #king x diane #modernau #nnt #nanatsu no taizai #fanfic #fanfiction

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priincesspacificaarchive · 5 years

Note

💍 + Elipper *

WEDDING MEME||ACCEPTING

[under the cut bc it’s looonngg.]

where they get married

gf probs??? outside. there’s a a chuppah, and elise+her side of the wedding party are wearing yellow and flower crowns (except elise is wearing white i guess?) the chuppah has daisies and the crowns are made of daisies.

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

it’s summer, daytime, maybe early june. like when they first met or something else rly sappy.

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. )

they definitely try very hard to combine their two traditions. i’ve always loved the idea of the pines family being jewish and with pacifica and elise being puerto rican and wanting to reconnect with their own heritage i think it’d make perfect sense for them to try and combine their two traditions. like there’s a chuppah, but the flowers on it are daisies and ampola flowers. elise carries a fan, but she and dipper also circle each other. they sign a ketubah, with their twin sister’s signing as witnesses. dipper’s parents walk him to the chuppah, but paz walks elise since their parents are in jail. they break a glass and cheer “mazel tov”. there’s the bedeken. the Seven Blessings are read, and soft music is played as in puerto rican tradition. not only do i love cultures in general, but i love blending them, and i think elise and dipper would try very hard to incorporate their heritage into their wedding. obviously i’m neither of these things, but i’ve done some minor research and i’m hoping these are accurate. (google don’t fail me now.)

what their wedding cake looks likes

it’s pineapple flavored, as puerto rican custom decides. and white with blue and yellow seashells. i was originally gonna ind a cake thing and try to make it but honestly i’m too tired of these things i just want them out of my drafts!

….who smashes cake into whose face

elise in dipper’s first, then he goes to feed her a piece all nice like and smashes it into her nose to keep from ruining her hair or makeup too much. boy knows that shit takes WORK.

who proposed to who firsts

lowkey wanna say elise at least brought it up first. dipper def got the ring and officially proposed first.

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

dipper is walked to the chuppah ahead of elise by his parents, then elise follows being guided by pacifica.

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

elise’s is white with yellow accents and it’s just long and flowy and soft looking with minimal beading/embroidery.

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

light yellow and probably light blue? like sky blue and sunflower yellow. idk about decor okay i’m cLUELESS ABOUT WEDDING DECOR.

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean?)

daffodils (meaning new beginnings) and forget-me-nots (meaning, well, forget me not), wrapped in baby’s breath (meaning everlasting love) (sunflowers mean false riches and yellow roses mean infidelity so those were NOS) there’s also ampola, as tradition states, and elise also carries an ampola fan.

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

they def had they’re own vows but dipper’s ended with “i promise to be your earth and your sky forever.” and elise’s was like “i promise to be your sun and your flame, forever and ever

if anyone’s late to the wedding

it’s gideon bc he didn’t wanna come xD no fr it’s probably no one. everyone they invite is very excited to see them get married so they wouldn’t try to be disrespectful like that.

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

elise has paz and robbie, dipper has wendy and mabel. robbie and wendy get paired up but they havent been together in half of forever so they dont care. tbh robbie’s probs married to tambry w a baby on the way by now lets face it. and elise only picked him bc she knew he’d be easier to pair w wendy. also sorry dip u have no friends outside the galaxy square. (psst, actually none of them do bc fuck it i’m no good w npcs.)

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

paz’s bridesmaid dress is soft and flowy and bright yellow with a daisy flower crown. robbie/mabel/wendy are wearing black tuxes with ties that match the bridesmaid dress. everyone is wearing a daisy flower crown. except dipper.

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

pacifica talks about how she’s watched their love blossom since they were twelve, mabel tells embarrassing stories about some of the adventures they went on together. the mic is then opened to the floor and gideon and stan rush it to tell embarrassing stories next. stan’s turns tearful when he talks about dipper finally becoming a man. it’s a very emotional day.

who catches the bouquet( s )

candy. who promptly looks at her date with “oh shit” eyes.

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

most of them are sweet, pictures of them smiling and laughing together. there’s photos of the cake smashing, dipper gives her a piggyback ride in her dress and heels in one. some of them are silly. capturing goofy faces they make at each other to get them to laugh. it’s like taking pictures of the essence of their relationship. they put them in an actual album that mabel helps with.

what sort of food they have at the reception

they probably try to continue to combine their traditions by using some of purto rico’s local dishes and some traditional jewish dishes. (look i’m doing some minor research here okay. if i keep googling this stuff my family’s gonna think i’m secretly engaged or something.)

who cries first during the ceremony

it’s definitely a close tie but it’s dipper, cause he sees her first. then elise. then mabel. then paz. then stan is bawling in his seat but like. in a manly way. also soos is crying.

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

mabel and elise set off ffirecrackers and almost get arrested. thank god for sheriff blubbs and deputy durland. toby determined crashed and got shitfaced and tore up the dancefloor. paz and elise danced together instead of a father/daughter dance, which they’d done for pacifica’s wedding the day before. they had a joint celebration dinner the night before that. robbie and tambry like, barely left each other’s sides but it’s fine bc dipper barely left elise’s. they had one of those photobooths and the main four spent like hours getting amazing pictures. those ALSO go in the album.

what their rings are like

simple gold bands. elise’s wedding ring is probably the ring dipper gifted her during the ceremony. her engagement ring is a gold band with a white diamond center surrounded by yellow accent diamonds.

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

they definitely had something sun and sky-themed. idk what tho. also they passed out capias for puerto rican tradition.

where they go for their honeymoon

they go camping out in some really nice woods and like, mountain-y area. elise fucking loves it.

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

its gf so lots of things happen but tbh the most memorable is people drunkenly asking the twins (even w their VERY different hair) why they’re not dancing w so-and-so and still getting them confused. also if anyone is running out for ice in full formal wear its robbie bc ngl that shits hILARIOUS to my currently sleep-addled brain.

who officiates the ceremony

i want it to be mayor tyler for some reason

what song their first dance is to

‘close to you’ by the carpenters bC IM A SUCKER FOR IT. also the soft sound is too perfect for elipper im cry. if not that it’d be a soft live rendition of “i can’t help (falling in love with you)” bc that’s literally on the elipper playlist.

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle

as it’s a chuppah it’s dipper and then elise. (ngl i love all this tradition stuff i feel like my wedding is gonna be some boring christian traditional thing and that makes me wanna cry bruh.)

#tiitaniumxwill #[you have one new message][asks]#[the princess has answered][answered asks]#[twingenuity][twin au]#[when icarus touched the sun][elipper]#[queue makes problems go away][queue]

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heistboundbabes-blog · 6 years

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the kids are all right

(because I can’t help myself and decided to write a little something for the IG AUs by @louxdebbie & @casliyn that gave us Dani & Darcy. I also stole the girls’ middle names from Cate & Sandra just because I could.)

Pairing: Lou/Debbie Rating: T trigger warning for mentions of sexual harassment /attempted assault

Lou winces sympathetically as she watches their daughter hiss in pain on a bar stool in front of her. Dani places a bag of ice over her swelling eye and Lou notices the bruising hasn’t quite made it to the blue and purple stages, but it’s already darkening from the initial pinkish hue. She’d asked what had happened as soon as Dani walked through the doors of the empty club they’ve made their home since before the children were even a thought in anyone’s mind, but their stubborn girl takes after Debbie in the way she’d waved it off and dismissed the whole thing with a slightly gritted out, “I’m fine.”

“What the hell happened?”

Speaking of the HBIC herself, Debbie throws open the front door. Lou’s almost certain some of the varnished wood splinters from the amount of force with which it slams into the wall.

“Nothing, it’s fine. Everything’s fine,” Dani grumbles like this is the most embarrassing overreaction to happen since her school talent show when she was ten and several students booed her performance just before the Original Eight all loudly came to her defense and got themselves kicked out of the auditorium.

“Danielle Elise Ocean, do not lie to me,” Debbie growls as she hastily struts across the main floor in her four inch heels that wobble with each hurried and unsteady step toward them. “What. Happened.”

Debbie settles at Dani’s side and leans on the hand she sets on the edge of the counter beside the spot the seventeen year old’s back rests against. Debbie’s eyes alternate between fire and steel as she stares down their girl, trying to coerce a confession Lou thinks only she’d ever manage to get out of their first born.

Dani sighs and rolls her uninjured eye, but it seems to affect the other regardless because the teen sharply inhales less than a second later. “I got into a little scrape,” Dani answers.

Lou lets out a burst of laughter on her next exhale and shakes her head. “You’ve done it now, baby,” she quietly warns just before Debbie proves her right.

“A little scrape?” And, oh, Debbie is glorious when she’s furious. Lou’s embarrassed that she’s slightly turned on at such an unfortunate moment and tries to control her libido before it makes her uncomfortably aroused, which successfully hinders when Debbie suddenly yanks the ice off Dani’s eye. Pointing to the girl’s now half-lidded iris, Debbie argues, “Either you fell down a flight of stairs or someone punched you. All I want is a name.”

“Mom, it’s really no big deal. I handled it,” Dani calmly insists.

Lou frowns. “Handled it? What did you have to handle?” She looks around the club and realizes Darcy, who’d guided her sister inside, didn’t seem to stick around for the explanation. Or backlash. With more curiosity than anger in her tone, she calls out, “Darce?”

She glances at Dani at just the right moment and sees the older girl close her good eye as if she’s been caught red-handed. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Darcy!” Lou calls out for the younger girl again, still not upset yet, but there will be hell to pay if she goes unanswered.

Sure enough, Debbie joins in a moment later when they’ve yet to hear from their other daughter. “Darcy Annette Ocean, you get your ass out here right now! You’ll both be grounded if I don’t get answers!”

From the kitchen, Darcy’s gently and slowly led out by Tammy. Tammy’s eyes are wide and sad and Darcy’s are filled with tears. Her mascara runs along the glistening tear tracks on her cheeks and one of the straps of the camisole under her unbuttoned flannel shirt is torn.

Lou gasps immediately. She hadn’t noticed anything troubling about Darcy’s appearance when she’d brought Dani in and now she’s upset at herself for missing it. “Oh my god,” she breathes out before her feet finally start moving and she rushes to her little girl. She just barely manages to stop herself from tackling Darcy into a tight, protective embrace when she’s almost toe-to-toe with her.

Darcy looks up at her with those big, brown eyes and Lou closes her own because that expression is enough confirmation for her. Lou can guess what happened.

“You’re okay?” Lou’s voice cracks as she asks the question through tears of her own. “He didn’t- You’re...you’re okay?”

Darcy nods and it’s like the motion itself jostles more tears loose. Their fifteen year old curls in on herself and cries, her sobs as heartbreaking as her distressed appearance. She sways a step forward, into Lou, and Lou doesn’t hesitate that time. She wraps her little girl up in a hug and rubs a hand up and down Darcy’s back soothingly while her other hand cups the back of Darcy’s head.

“He?” Lou mostly hears Darcy’s cries in her ear, but she doesn’t exactly have to strain to hear Debbie questioning their other daughter less than fifteen steps away.

“I skipped class,” Darcy bellows into Lou’s shoulder as salt and snot seep into her expensive suit-jacket. Lou doesn’t care about the jacket or the truancy, just continues to hold her daughter close and offer whatever comfort she can. “I went to hang out with Jason. We were in his car and...and it was okay. We were just talking. But then we were kissing. And then, he...he wanted more.”

“Didn’t that little shit know he was messing with an Ocean,” Lou hears Debbie rhetorically ask. “He’s about to find out what that means.”

“Da-Dani was coming to meet me and, when she-she saw...she stopped him.”

“No one messes with an Ocean,” Dani confidently states.

Lou looks over the shoulder not being cried on and looks between Dani and Debbie with pride. “Damn right,” she agrees before she holds Debbie’s gaze with fondness. They both knew Lou had learned that from experience herself throughout all their history, and it’s part of the reason the girls have Debbie’s last name instead of hers.

Dani picks at the ripped knee of her jeans--a style choice Lou respects but will never understand--and then meets Lou’s eyes with a fierceness the blonde admires and encourages at every chance. “You think my eye looks bad? You should see the other guy. He only got one good hit in.”

“That’s my girl,” Debbie says with her full support and a hint of a smirk. She brushes back Dani’s long hair so that it sits behind her shoulder and tucks a few strands behind the teen’s ear.

“Oh, I’m also suspended for three days,” Dani informs them. She’s so casual about it that Lou, as well as Debbie, know that it’s not just because Dani’s not a stranger to detentions or suspensions but that she also hopes to receive little to no punishment at home by tossing the information out like it’s nothing compared to anything else they’ve heard thus far.

This time, Dani’s right about that.

“That future-offender better be suspended too,” Debbie says, “or we’ll be having words with the principal.”

“He is,” Dani replies. “And his parents were pissed. I think I heard them threatening counseling on top of his life long grounding, too.”

“Good,” Debbie nods. “Now, maybe Aunt Tammy will get all our favorite ice creams and we’ll have a movie night with the girls. How’s that sound?”

“I’m in,” Dani immediately agrees before she and Debbie look to Lou and Darcy.

Darcy sniffles and finally lifts her head. Lou shifts so they both face Debbie and Dani and keeps an arm firmly around their youngest for endless comfort. Lou needs it as much as she thinks Darcy does.

“Can we watch ‘Grease’?”

Lou smirks and looks at Debbie, who’s expression is similar to hers.

“Favorite ice cream and your favorite movie,” Debbie says to Darcy. “Looks like we’re having ourselves a night of karaoke.” She turns to Lou then and asks, “What do you say, Rizzo?”

“There are worse things I could do,” she teases before adding, “Zuko.”

Darcy slips out of Lou’s embrace just as Dani stands and the girls make their way to the space they’ve long since converted into a living room with a large screen and projector creating a drive-in theater feel when watching movies instead of planning heists.

“Do you two need a minute,” Tammy asks upon finally injecting herself into the conversation. “Because if I’m supposed to get the ice cream and call up the others, I can wait until you bang out this proud and relieved parent moment.”

“Oh, shut up, Sandra Dee,” Debbie responds jokingly.

“Sand- Sandra- Oh, I know you didn’t just call me that,” Tammy argues with an accusing finger pointed at Debbie.

Lou chuckles and defends her partner, her wife, her everything. “If you don’t like being Sandy, stop singing all her parts with the most conviction I’ve ever seen out of you.”

“And really, no one’s favorite song is Hopelessly Devoted,” Debbie says before she turns and follows after the kids.

Lou refrains from laughing that time, but she doesn’t dare hide how badly she wants to, or how she one hundred percent agrees with the woman with whom she’s made an incredible life.

“You with me, Lou?” Debbie’s looking at her over her shoulder where she waits halfway between the bar and the living room.

With her warmest smile, Lou replies, “I wouldn’t be anywhere else, honey.”

#heist wives #lou x debbie #dani and darcy #my fic

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metinthehallway · 6 years

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2 beaches

You already know it’s sad bitch hours! I wrote this a few weeks ago after seeing this pic of harry. It’s a lil bit of Dunkirk harry and idk how over everyone is of that but here I am loving every bit of it! It’s 3.5k words of mostly dialogue telling a story and it’s a bit flowery. Hope you guys like it!

Elise sits on the splinting wicker chair, pinpricks of flecked white wood scratching along her thighs. She’s come from her present home in the city all the way to her childhood one, 2 hours south into the countryside. The late afternoon is filled with an intense orange, sunlight washes over the fields of wheat before meeting the horizon. The sun stretches as far as it can before it ducks below the earth. With a light grimace and rubbing at her legs, she turns to look at the woman next to her, wearing a near identical pair of eyes only more worn, more misted. Elise’s face instantly melts into one of comfort.

Her grandmother, Sarah, is a familiar presence, having raised Elise for the better part of her life. On this little strip of land containing rolling hills and bushels upon bushels of poison ivy, coupled with a rocky stream winding through the woods and the largest weeping willow you’d ever see, Elise found herself. She found herself throwing her body down the hills with her friends, seeing who could reach the bottom the fastest. The sleepless nights spent itching at her skin, waking up her grandmother to have her rub the special homemade salve she always had onto the agitated hives, gently singing her to sleep. The rocks she collected that were slowly weathered down by the quick moving stream, hurrying on its way to get to the seaside. The weeping willow where she learned to climb, weaving herself in and out of its large body and hiding between the curtains of greenery when life seemed too much to handle.

The day they had to cut it down, Elise cried.

Sarah cried even harder. Elise could hear it that night throughout the house, accompanied by the wind whistling and the rain hitting the roof.

Sarah kept only a piece of wood from the graveyard of branches. A jagged piece, about 6 inches wide, with the initials, “H.S. + S.J.”, lay towards the back of her dresser. It lives next to a book, a book that’s never been moved from its spot for as long as Elise had been there, collected so much dust it’s turned gray. Elise had never asked. The memory of it seemed too painful.

The two have been chatting here and there on the rickety front porch, allowing the sounds of the country side to fill the pauses and smooth out their words. The glass jug next to them clinks with fresh ice as Sarah pours her second glass of lemonade with shaky hands. Elise reminds her of her health, to take it easy on the sugary drinks as her body isn’t the best filter for her sweet tooth anymore. Sarah just scoffs, one that turns into a harsh cough, says, “This body carried 4 children, it can carry another glass of lemonade.”

Elise smiles, although it’s a tight one. All she does is care but her grandmother has always been indifferent about the inevitability of aging, staring into the future with a mask of almost boredom while her body deteriorates. Sarah’s mind, on the other hand, is as sharp as ever.

Gazing up to the empty sky where Elise used to watch strings of willow leaves swing in the breeze, she’s reminded of the carved, rotting wood sitting atop a dark cherry dresser. As the sun sets and streaks of pink and red are thrown across the sky, Elise feels an overwhelming urge to ask about it. She’s getting older and with that, the fear of going to sleep one night and waking up to a world without her grandmother in it.

She asks about the piece of bark from the willow because if not now, she never will.

“Who’s H.S.? I know who S.J. is. That’s you. But who do the other initials stand for?” Sarah pauses and blinks once, shock written on her face and glass of lemonade stuck halfway to her open mouth.

Cicadas move in the tall grass, calling out for another in the suspended air. Elise gauges the reaction as Sarah moves to put the cup down on the porch, shutting her mouth with pursed lips. She’s almost positive she won’t get an answer, until Sarah moves to get up from her cushioned rocking chair. Elise jumps up to help her, thinking that she’s just going to leave the question hanging and turn in for the night. Sarah quickly waves her off, grunting a bit as she hobbles into the house.

A little deflated, Elise sits back down as the sun disappears almost completely. If she unfocuses her eyes, she can see the faint lights of the fireflies nipping about the grass and woods surrounding her.

A few minutes pass and the screen door creaks open, causing Elise to startle and kick her drink, causing it to spill all over the worn wooden planks. She hadn’t expected her grandmother to come back. Swearing lightly, she picks up the glass and raises her head to see Sarah turning on the porch light, an unfamiliar object tucked in the crook of her elbows, folded over like she could keep it safe. Like it needed to be kept safe.

As her grandmother steps further into the yellow light cast by the dingy bulb, Elise’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. She recognizes the black leather book only without all the dust piled on it, the same book she’s never seen moved from the spot next to the jagged piece of willow.

Sarah shuffles over to her designated chair, rocking back slightly and she puts all her weight onto the paisley cushion. Clearing her throat, she opens the book. The splitting sound of the leather spine indicates it hasn’t been opened in years. With unsteady hands, she pulls out a frayed piece of paper from somewhere in the middle, small and rectangular. It’s the color of sand with black ink on the side facing Elise, who is unable to read what it says.

Sarah closes her eyes, sparse eyelashes fluttering onto her gaunt cheeks. “You know when people ask you if your house was on fire, what would be the only thing you’d run through the smoke and flames for? This photograph is that thing.” Opening her eyes and meeting Elise’s, she hands over the fragile piece of paper.

Turning it over carefully, as if the soft night breeze could snatch it out of her grasp, Elise first glosses over the ink on the back. The date reads out, “25th of April, 1939. H on the beach.” Turning it over, she finds herself looking into the sepia toned eyes of a young man, no older than 20, handsome as can be with curled hair flying about his face, surely from the sea breeze in the background. The look in his eyes bore into Elise’s, holding a serious yet mischievous glare. The rest of his face is in a relaxed state while he squints head on into the lens of a grainy camera. The tall grass behind him caught in mid sway has her thinking she can hear the ocean waves if she tries hard enough. Tearing her eyes away, she carefully watches her grandmothers expressions change. She’s never seen such an open book.

On Sarah’s face, multitudes of emotions come and go, passing over like clouds in the sky, the most prominent of them; anguish, nostalgia, happiness. Love. Unparalleled love. Whole heart love, the kind that seeps from your skin and onto everything you touch, spreading like the sea in that old picture.

In awe of this beautiful photograph and part confusion from the sudden openness her grandmother is showing, Elise asks an important question, the only question: “Who’s H?” Sarah’s mouth quirks up in the smallest of smiles.

“Harry,” she says, the syllables of his name cracking, like she hasn’t voiced it in decades. It sounds bittersweet on her tongue, like lemonade, though more on the sugary side. “Harry Styles. A man I loved for a very short time, and a man who left for a very long time, the bastard,” she laughs but the sound isn’t very humorous. “Just had to go and be the first to enlist. Had to leave me here on this side of the war.”

Before Elise can say anything, protest that she really doesn’t need to hear this story because of how hurt the older woman sounds, Sarah shakes her head. “I’m going to tell you about Harry. I’m going to tell you about the willow tree, the beaches. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I never even told your grandfather. How could I? I would have ended up comparing the two and that would be unfair to everyone. Fantasizing about Harry while in the arms of my husband. It was easier to try and just...forget. At least until they had to cut down my tree.

“When I met Harry, it was September of 1938. It had turned out to be an Indian summer, not cooling down until mid October. I sat underneath the shade of the willow tree, fanning myself with some paperback I’d stolen from my fathers collection. I saw Harry riding his bike, basket full of plucked berries. As he rode by we made eye contact and even from the safety of my tree trunk, I could see the green of them, greener than the curtain of leaves draping down my arms. He didn’t look away and neither did I, until he hit a rock and flew off his bike, berries flying everywhere and splattering red and black on the ground like a crime scene. He tumbled a bit onto the grass not too far away from me.

“I remember gasping and it turning into laughter. Whole belly laughter. I remember him looking up from his skinned knees, sea soaked eyes opened as far as they could in surprise. I remember his smile growing wider and wider until I thought his face was going to break in half. I’d never seen such pretty teeth in my life. I know it’s a weird thing to say. It was even weirder to think. They were neat, white little blocks that shone with his happiness. I fell in love with that smile right then and there. It was the first time I made him laugh and I told myself that it certainly was not going to be the last. I got up and introduced myself. I held out a hand for him to take, to help him up. I think I miss his hands the most.

“He said his name was Harry and he was out and about getting some berries for his mothers pie, said he got a bit lost and didn’t quite know where he was. I remember that single brown curl sticking to his forehead in the immense heat. I offered him some refuge, leading him inside this house.” Sarah waves an arm, countless bracelets jingling as she gestures to the familiar structure around them. She continues.

“This house has stood here forever, you know. It’s been in our family since it was built. If I concentrate really hard, I can still hear the weight of his steps on the floorboards behind me. I led him to the kitchen and helped him clean his bloody knees. His pants were absolutely ruined, ripped and stained with dirt. He wanted to act like a strong man, like it didn’t hurt and that he didn’t need any tending to because he could handle a little pain. But once I laid a washcloth on the broken skin, he whimpered. He was sweet and soft inside, like a pastry.”

At the sound of a sharp coughing fit, Elise is torn out of her storybook haze. Rushing inside to grab a glass of water, she hands it to her grandmother, who gratefully takes it and gulps half of it down in one sip. Sarah takes a breath, regains her composure and closes her eyes, launching herself back into the nostalgia.

“He left that afternoon with no berries and a promise that he would be back, that Friday, for a proper picnic underneath the willow. My parents came home that night to my giddiness. They kept asking what had made me so restless but I didn’t tell them, couldn’t tell them. Wanted to keep Harry a secret to myself for the time being. He seemed like a mirage, something I had conjured up in my head short circuiting from the head. I Just excused myself up to my room. That night, I took out my last sheet of canvas paper and sketched the outline of his eyes to what I could remember. I remembered thinking if I never saw his eyes again, I would at least have this.

“That Friday, he came to my house with a bouquet of wildflowers. Knocked on the door and introduced himself to my parents. Said he was a friend of Sarah’s. I loved the way he said my name. We sat in the privacy of the draped leaves and talked for hours. Ate so many blackberries I thought my stomach would turn into one. We took turns throwing the sweets into each other’s mouths and, of course, he was much better at it. They stained his two front teeth. It was the most endearing thing I’d ever seen. After that there were many more days spent together, at the base of the willow. It was smaller then. Younger.

“One day, before the first snowfall in November on a particularly cold day, he took out a pocketknife in his right hand and put his other cupped to the tree to hide what he was carving. I was laughing, tugging at his hands trying to see what he was doing. When he finally pulled his hand away, I stopped in my tracks. He kissed me then and time unfroze. That winter was full of them. The kisses. Full of more than kisses. Full of love and tenderness and nights by the fireplace under heavy blankets and the weight of his hands on my body. His hands were beautiful. Wide and blunt, a single rose ring adorned his middle finger. I used to kiss it when he got sad or frustrated, trailing my mouth up his arm, to his shoulder, dragging my lips across his neck and finally landing on his mouth. They were very pink, bowed like a dolls. I thanked the heavens everyday I got the chance to taste them.

“Winter faded into spring. The leaves of the weeping willow grew back and it became our spot again. The photograph in your hands was taken on the beach near his grandparents house that spring. They were well off and could afford a camera and, well, a private beach. He looked so beautiful pressed up against the endless ocean, I had to capture it. I wish it could’ve showed how green his eyes were, especially next to the tall grass.”

Sarah stopped for a second, opening her eyes and contemplating her next words. Elise was completely enticed, soaking in every single word down to her bones. She didn’t want to forget this vulnerable moment. All around them, the night came alive. Above them, the stars shone silver and circled their heads like halos. In the light of the moon, as well as the dim yellow one on the porch, Elise watches her grandmothers eyes well up.

“Isn’t it funny how he loved me on this beach, but died on another, miles away, a year away?” She sniffled once and that’s all she allows herself. She continues on.

“Harry took it upon himself to immediately join the war. He was one of the first waves. Sure, they were drafting everyone but he really wanted to fight. Said he was getting nowhere in his fathers small textile business. He wanted do something right, he said. When he told me, I didn’t speak to him for a week. He would come by, sit under the willow while I sat on my bed. As it was getting closer to his departure I knew I had to suck it up. This was bigger than us, as much as I didn’t want it to be. I wanted to forget about it all and stay here until the war was over. I climbed up the tree and showed him my favorite branch that was perfect to lay on, the same branch I used to sit on all the time just thinking about life in its entirety. We spent those whole two weeks before he left together, never leaving each other’s sides.

“It was the first time I’d seen him cry. It was in my arms, in his bed, the night before he was supposed to leave. He said he loved me so much it hurt him. He said he would write to me every goddamn day. He said he needed me to wait for him. I’ll never forget the shine of the ring in the moonlight. He proposed to me, tears in his eyes. I said yes. What else would I say? No? Of course not. No matter how much I hated his choice to leave, it would have never been greater than the amount of love there was in me, for him. All throughout the night the only words said were, ‘I love you’. In between kisses, in between sighs, roaming into the air and disappearing out the window. I ran my hands through his hair, I licked his two front teeth, I kissed his ring, his fingers, I stared into his eyes and found myself wanting to dive into them for the millionth time. I was hoping, hoping so hard that it wouldn’t be the last time his hands held me.

“He left the next morning. I never saw him again. We didn’t even have a body to bury. He sank somewhere off the coast of a beach in France. Dunkirk. I felt my heart shatter, the pieces floating up my throat, stabbing my lungs, cutting up the inside of me. The pain was just too great. I cried for what seemed like a lifetime. I slept with this picture in my hands every night. I started to forget how green his eyes were. Whenever I looked at the ring on my finger, I wanted to throw it in the stream and have it be carried into the ocean and the currents would bring the ring to him, somewhere in the deep. But the ocean is far too large. I wore it, for years after, telling men I was married, that I was so, so lucky. The war ended in 1945 and whoever was left, beaten and battered as they were, came home. I was bitter. How come they all survived, how come all of those troops on Dunkirk survived, but not my Harry ?”

Elise’s breath shudders. The intensity of her grandmothers words were too much. “Grandma..” she trails off. She doesn’t know what to say. How could she? “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t imagine. I don’t want to imagine.”

The older woman nods her head, a small and tired smile slipping onto her face. “These are the memories I would try to forget. I look back on them many ways,” she admits. “In anger, in sadness, in all-consuming love. Don’t get me wrong. Time lessened the hurt. If only microscopically. I took off the ring eventually and found your grandfather and created what would soon lead to you. I loved Harry so much. I still do. It’s unfair that he stays in my mind as a young, vibrant man so full of life. While that will never be what happened. While I grew old. If I didn’t have this photograph, I wouldn’t even remember clearly what he looked like. It would be watery, whittled down to only the basics; curly hair, sharp jaw, face-splitting grin. I just wish I could remember the color of his eyes. I never painted in that sketch I made. Not that I could ever do the green of them justice. I know how much those eyes loved me. I just wish I could look into them one more time, you know?” She trails off.

Elise didn’t know. She hoped she never did.

Sarah shakes her head as if to rid herself of the indulgent thought. “I’m going to go to sleep. It’s getting late and I have to run into town tomorrow morning,” she announces while slowly standing up, her body cracking under the weight. She stops and turns to face her granddaughter. “Thank you for asking about the tree. About the initials. Nobody’s ever asked. I would have never told anyone. I would have carried him to my grave.”

Elise goes to place the picture of a young man, who existed a very long time before her, into her grandmothers hands. Sarah shakes her head again. “I want you to keep it for now,” she says. “The memories are fresh enough.” She turns around and walks through the same front door she walked through with Harry trailing behind, all those years ago. It seemed like it happened in a different universe.

So much love, Elise couldn’t even dream of it. She was drained from just listening to the story. The moon rose higher and higher in the sky and the wind was starting to rattle through the house in a familiar sound. Harry existed once in this house. He knew the nooks and crannies of it intimately, just as Elise does. The childhood home took on a new form, more solemn and full of shadows. As she tip toes behind her grandmother, whose arms are slung around the little black book, she ensures she climbs the stairs safely. As her grandmothers bedroom door closes, ever so softly, Elise wanders into her old room.

Falling into bed, she puts the picture of Harry standing up against her bedside lamp, bright pink just as young Elise liked it, the sepia colored rectangle a strange contrast to the loud color. As she slept that night, fragments of green, adorned by thick eyelashes, float in and out of her dreams. And she thinks she can almost hear the ocean.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #dunkirk harry #short story #honestly if you read this all youre a trooper #why do i always write harry in past time periods???#bc that bitch is timeless #kinda sad?? idk i tried to make it whimsical and nostalgic #not sure if i succeeded #anywho #writers on tumblr #my writing #harry styles au #harry styles fic #dunkirk au

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alloftimeandspacetosee · 3 years

Text

Beans

So this is... my co-writer gave me. She was trying to make it a hard challenge of something to write about? I think? And she just gave me the word beans.

And it turned into “Jayden’s too good for this world, Exhibit A”

At this point they’ve known each other like three years? I don’t know how Jay’s managed to keep all this quiet until now lmao

Also some explanation for you guys! Because you’ve been getting side stuff! Here’s some exposition.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [8]

“There’re the cliffs,” Brith said quietly.

I looked up from the wheel. Sure enough, the cliffs were appearing before us and to port.

“We’ll tack in,” I called.

Soise and Brith leapt to reef in the sails as I turned us in. Jayden appeared from the cabin, probably alerted by my call. We hadn’t spoken much since leaving Hoenn… I watched him close the door and blink in the still bright sunlight before he turned. I looked away quickly, concentrating on the task in hand and trying to lie to myself that I wasn’t avoiding him.

We docked in silence and made our way up to the cave.

“Are you alright for staying here the night?” I asked suddenly. “We could’ve stopped in Fiore…”

“This is fine.” He smiled at me. “I don’t mind.”

I nodded and busied myself sorting out the cave, sorting out the evolution stones Kentar had brought back.

<Something’s troubling you, Blue>

I looked up as Pie spoke. “It happened,” I said quietly.

“Fine. Everything – it’s fine. They’re safe.”

<And you?> I saw her gaze flicker to Jayden for an instant.

“Fine.”

“I… I don’t know how,” I whispered.

“Jay? Is everything alright?”

I turned to Jayden. “Yeah.” I nodded. “Fine.”

Soise snorted, and I scowled at her. He nodded and set down his bag.

I bit my lip. “There’s… there’re some things I need to tell you. Before we go any further.”

“I’m listening.” He always was. To the wind, to anyone who needed it. To me.

I gestured out the cave. “Can we do this over food? I… I’ll need time to get everything thought out.”

“Of course.”

We brought up supplies from the ship as Soise and Arc kindled a fire between them. Then the pack disappeared into the woods, no doubt to hunt and stretch their legs. Soise and Brith took the hint and disappear into the cave with Pie and Elise, leaving Jayden and me to prepare our own food.

We worked in silence, as we always had on the ship. It was more pensive than usual; I was far away, trying to find the words I needed, the words that explained what had happened. The words that explained what I was.

I put it off all through cooking, and all the way through eating. But as we watched the sun set over the trees, I sat down on the cliff edge and sighed, kicking my feet over the edge. Jayden joined me, the fire dying to embers behind us. I stared down at my ship, rocking gently in the waves. A slight breeze rustled through the trees, accompanied by the call of Jayden’s flock.

“I don’t know where to begin.”

He didn’t reply. He just sat there, not far off my side. Waiting. Not demanding, he’d never do that. Just… waiting, with all the patience he’d used to train the birds.

“Well… I suppose it began back when I became a trainer.” I smiled briefly; how long ago that seemed now! “I had a friend. Called Sparrow. We… travelled together. Took down a few gyms. Then… I don’t know – well, I do. I got attacked.” I traced the scar across my face. “And then we started coming across the group everywhere. They kidnapped my sister, we retaliated… quite spectacularly.” I allowed myself another small smile at that memory; explosions, earthquakes. “We interfered. We were young, I guess. Didn’t think anyone could do a better job than us. By this point I was marked – well, you’ve seen my arms. It’s right across my back as well. And Joanna was part of it all, of course.” I paused, closing my eyes. “I don’t know – this will be hard to believe.” And I still didn’t know how to explain it all. Sky take it… I just didn’t know.

The sun had set behind us, and in the sea we could see the faint lights of lanturn, risen up to the surface in the cooling spring night.

“Try me.”

I shuddered out a breath. He hadn’t left yet. “I’m marked for Arceus. Sparrow was marked for Palkia, and I guess… there was supposed to be a third, but we never met. Never found them.”

“Did you look?”

“Not… exactly. We didn’t know. And then we-” I cut off.

“What happened?”

I fidgeted with my sleeves. “He… we went after the group. Stupid, I know. But the police didn’t listen, and – and I felt it was my task.” I laughed, bitterly. “Sparrow was killed, in their base.” There. It was said.

He didn’t reply to that, but inched a bit closer. I couldn’t quite let myself relax onto him, although I wanted to. I know I had before, but I thought that if I did now – if I did now, I probably wouldn’t be able to continue.

“Joanna was marked for Giratina. We’re – I’m the Guardian. Arceus’ Chosen. She’s… I don’t know what the official term is.”

“And – Alex, their child?”

“The NightChild. You know the legend?” I waited for his nod. “I was supposed to kill her, to stop Giratina’s taint.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” I agreed quietly.

“How?”

“I couldn’t.” I closed my eyes, seeing that dreadful night again. “I just – couldn’t. They wanted me to, and – I couldn’t let them.”

“You fought them off?”

I nodded. Couldn’t find any more words.

“You disagreed with the legendaries, and they let you live?” He sounded almost awed.

I shot him a sidelong glance. “I wasn’t having another death on my conscience.” Despite the awed tone in his voice, he didn’t seem too shocked… or wary… or anything I’d expected. He just looked – normal.

“Another?”

“Sparrow. And Doom – my houndoom.”

“Why do you blame yourself for them?”

“Because it’s my fault they died. If I hadn’t gone on about fixing the group, if we’d tried harder to convince the police… Sparrow could be alive today. And Doom – he was protecting me, he stepped in front of a knife for me.” I gestured hopelessly with my hands. “I shouldn’t have let him.”

“He might not be,” Jayden said eventually. “He might have died at some other time, in some other place. They had choices too, Jay.”

I stared out over the sea. The moon had risen before us, casting a shimmering pallor across the waves, catching my ship in stark brilliance.

“But still…”

“Don’t worry about them. You can’t change the past.”

I shivered, but not because of the wind. Alyss had said that to me as well. Maybe it was time I followed them, then.

“Someone walk over your grave?” Jayden smiled.

I returned the smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. It rarely did, now. I was waiting. I’d told him everything… only Joanna and Alex knew as much as he did now, and they were wrapped up as much as I was in it. Would he leave?

He looked back across the sea. I watched him, trying not to bite my lip. But he had the patience of a bird trainer… it wasn’t going to happen fast. I closed my eyes and tried to relax.

“Seems to me,” he said slowly, “That you’ve had one heck of a ride so far.”

I opened my eyes, still watching him. He was still staring out across the sea.

“If you had the choice, what would you do about it?”

“About what?”

“If you could change the past… would you?”

I tilted my head, considering. At any other time… straight after Sparrow’s death, I’d’ve said yes without thinking. No matter what the cost. But it would change so much. How much of my life would be different, if he had lived? I wouldn’t be the sole Guardian… but the night might have turned out differently.

Nyx might not have existed. She might have been killed… Sparrow never had liked Joanna much, would he have been able to hold back?

After Doom’s death… that hadn’t been the precursor to any great event. Had it? I wanted him back, I couldn’t deny it. An ice statue was no substitute for his warmth, his place in my pack. But… he had chosen that, I was sure of it. I had to be sure of it. He had always guarded me, when he had a choice. I couldn’t just ignore that, could I? If I could change the past…

It might’ve been Ray who took that knife instead. Ray, who had children. Ray, who had guarded me just as much, who probably would have made the same choice if Doom hadn’t been quicker.

Or it could’ve been me. Another scar, marring my arm. Or in my gut. I could’ve bled out in that alley. So… I wasn’t going to let it just be useless.

He was still waiting for my answer.

“No,” I answered, quietly. “I don’t think I would.”

He cocked his head, as if waiting for an explanation.

“It would make their efforts a waste. I might be the sole Guardian, but that doesn’t mean I should make all the decisions.”

He nodded, smiling. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

I smiled – finally reaching my eyes, after so long – and leant into his side. He wrapped his arm around me without comment, and we stared out over the sea.

I was still dwelling over everything, my whole history. It had been the first time I’d ever spoken about it all, in one sitting. I’d thought it would hurt. But… I guess it had been so long since it had happened. It still meant something, of course. But it just meant I’d been through it. It was just that – just my past.

We sat there, in silence, for the rest of the night. I was tangling with my thoughts, still trying to work everything through.

As the sun rose in front of us, I tried not to yawn. He leant his chin into my head.

The sun sparkled across the sea below us, slowly catching my ship in its grasp where it lay, moored and bobbing in the waves.

He murmured something, evidently more to himself than anyone else, since I didn't catch it.

"Hm?" I glanced up. "You say something?"

“Just thinking."

I shifted slightly, getting more comfortable. "'bout what?"

"Beans."

"What?" I snorted, pulling away to stare at him. "Did I actually hear you right?"

"Our stores need restocking, don't they? I was compiling a list."

"I see... yes, they probably do." I shook my head. Of all the things… after everything I’d told him, every scrap of secret about what I was, what had happened… and he chooses to think about our stores.

Our stores.

And it was then that I finally twigged it. He wouldn’t be leaving me. And – and if there was ever anyone – another human – that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with… this was him. There was another conversation to have. That deal…

He pulled me back into his side. "Later, though."

Later indeed. "Yeah... we can swing by Fiore." I nodded, letting him. "Slight non-sequitur though, wasn't it?"

"Well-"

"Is that what you've been thinking of, all night? That the stores need replenished?" I laughed.

"Wow."

"Not all night." He sounded disgruntled now. "Just now."

"Hungry?"

"Maybe a bit."

I grinned, disentangling myself and standing up. "Maybe we should find something to eat, then."

#pokemon #oc #Blueridge #Jay Nightgale #writing #1st gen #mainverse #the birds

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