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tomurasprincess · 4 years

Text

A Caged Dove Part 1 (Shouto Todoroki x Reader)

Summary: You are a princess from a smaller territory within the kingdom, summoned to the castle to meet with the heir of the throne in the absence of your parents. You think it will simply be a routine trip, until you realize that Prince Shouto has his own plans for you. Whether you agree with them or not.

Pairing: Prince Shouto Todoroki x Reader Rating: T+ for this chapter, but E+ for future ones. Chapter Warnings: Yandere themes, obsession, suggestion of forced marriage Series Warnings: noncon, dubcon, breeding, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stalking, yandere Word Count: 2k+ Note: My entry for @bnhabookclub event! Fairy tale AU (although more Grimm than Disney.) I am extremely excited to be doing something for this, and for joining the Discord soon. This idea really struck my muse until I decided to give it a shot, and it blossomed into a multi-chapter fic. I hope you guys like it! Thank You: To @thewheezingwyvern, who discussed this idea with me for hours and then screeched at me for hours more to woman up and actually do it. You only had to screech an average of 9 times before I started, so this is a new record. @jojosmilktea, thank you for making the gorgeous banner for me! I am but a humble peasant compared to your banner making, and must bow to the queen.

One || Two || Three || Four || Five (Finale)

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so nervous before, standing outside the throne room of the royal Todoroki family. You had received a missive just a few days ago, summoning you immediately to the castle for an audience with Prince Todoroki himself, heir to the throne of the kingdom.

It was not often that someone of your class had an audience with the Crown Prince, so although you have received a full education and are quite knowledgeable in matters of the Court, you cannot help but be nervous nevertheless. An occasion like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, something that can make or break a noble family, especially one of the lesser noble families such as yours.

You fuss with your outfit one more time, trying to look your best and distract yourself when the doors finally open. One of the royal guards walks out from the throne room and motions you forward. “This way, Princess. His Royal Highness is ready to see you.”

You give a quick nod and begin to walk through the doors to the throne room, your bodyguard trailing behind you, when you hear the royal guard speak up.

“You have been instructed to see His Royal Highness without bodyguards, Princess.”

You pause for a second before glancing over to your bodyguard who gives you an imperceptible shake of the head, indicating that he does not want you to go alone. You wave him off and continue to the throne room. You’re in the heart of the royal palace, you think to yourself, you will be fine.

As you enter the huge double doors to the throne room, what you see in there almost stops you in your tracks. The splendor and beauty of this room is like nothing you have ever seen before. The room itself is huge, with tall ceilings that stretch up to beautiful domes. Statues of previous rules line the walls which are inlaid with what looks like pure gold.

And at the end of the room, sitting in a massive throne, sits Prince Shouto Todoroki himself. You have never seen him in person before, and you realize the gossip of his beauty were not exaggerated. His hair is two toned, cut down the middle with one side being white and one side being red. His eyes are the same, the piercing nature of them staring into what feels like your very soul.

He does not take his eyes off of you the entire time it takes you to walk to his throne, leaving you to feel off balance at the intensity you find in them. You barely remember to drop your gaze, the weight of them almost too hard to look away from.

You finally make it to the throne, stopping a respectable length away from him and falling into a deep curtsy to show your respect. As you bring yourself upright, you wait for him to say the first words.

“Ah, I am very glad that you could make it, Princess. I hope you had a pleasant journey.” Well of course I made it, you think, I had no choice but to answer the Crown Prince’s summon.

You push the thought down and give a gracious nod. “Of course, I am honored to meet you, Your Highness.”

“I was informed that your parents were called away on urgent business, and as such, could not make it today.”

“That is correct, Your Highness, which is why I was sent in their place as ambassador for our territory.” You are momentarily surprised he knows this information so quickly, but you suppose it makes sense for the royal family to be so well connected.

“I remember meeting with them several times while checking on the state of the country with my parents. They seemed like very kind people. I do hope it is nothing serious.”

You remember this occasion well. Your territory is important, but still minor in comparison to the royal family. A visit from them was a huge deal, and there had been preparation done for months before they ever arrived. You met Prince Shouto there very briefly, and it was an encounter you never forgot. He seemed like the very picture of the perfect prince, and you admit to having an almost schoolgirl crush on him.

“Ah, but I am sure you want me to get to the point. You must be concerned as to why you were summoned here today.”

You consider denying that you are nervous, but you think better of lying. “I will admit that I am a little nervous, yes. Someone of my rank is not often summoned by the Crown Prince.”

“Of your rank? You do not give yourself enough credit.” He gives you a small smile. “I have summoned you here for a proposal, after all.”

A proposal? Your heart drops into your stomach as you hear the word proposal. Surely he doesn’t mean…? But it is confirmed by his next sentence, as he sees the confusion on your face.

“Yes, that kind of proposal,” he chuckles, “I am sure you have heard the rumors that I am seeking a wife.”

You had, in fact, heard the rumors. But you had written it off as just that, rumors. Or, even if it was more than that, something that ultimately did not concern you or your family. There were far more suitable matches for the heir to the throne, after all.

The Todoroki family ruled the country with a fair hand and were well loved by everyone, and as such, were constantly called to mediate over disputes and enforce laws. The best match for the Crown Prince would have been one of the more troubled territories, perhaps even another country. Something that would help secure more alliances for the country.

“I don’t -- I’m not sure I understand,” you trail off, before remembering yourself at the last minute, “Your Highness.”

If he notices your almost slip up, he says nothing and simply continues. “Did your parents not mention it to you?”

You quickly shake your head. “Mention what, your Highness?”

“I requested permission to court your hand in marriage, and your parents agreed.”

The shock of such a casual statement has you reeling. Why would he be courting you, and furthermore, why would your parents have agreed? They were nobility, yes, but they were simple people who were content with their lot in life. They never would have wanted you thrown into the atmosphere of court life.

“But why wouldn’t they mention anything to me about this, my lord?”

You realize belatedly that you did not address him correctly, and a rush of embarrassment hits you at losing your manners in such a way. You worry that you’re going to be kicked out of the castle in disgrace at this rate.

But he simply gives you a smile and ignores your faux pas, a smile that should put you at ease but instead simply makes you feel on edge. You’re being ridiculous, you think to yourself, he is from a family of kind hearted and fair people. Nothing is going to happen to you besides a little social embarrassment.

“One of your retainers mentioned they had been called out with little notice, correct? I imagine they were about to tell you, but the emergency caused them to forget in their haste to deal with the situation.”

His voice and words are reasonable, but something about this situation seems off. Your parents are not forgetful, and are known as some of the most reliable in the country. This level of emergency was unusual as well, for both of your parents to be away at the same time. You were not generally left alone to deal with the ruling of your territory. And then to be summoned by the Crown Prince himself, with a marriage proposal at that...all of your noble training has your instincts screaming at you.

But your noble training also demands that you not bring up any of this to your superiors. “Of course, Your Highness,” you say as you curtsy a bit, “that sounds very possible.”

“Then you will accept?” He is obviously asking a question, but his tone says otherwise, the iron in his voice making it obvious that there is only one correct answer to this question.

“This is all happening very fast, Your Highness,” you desperately try to reason, “may I have enough time to think it over?” You are being thrown into a situation that you are not prepared to handle, and if you could only delay things just a bit until your parents got back, then things can still go okay.

“No, you may not.” But your hope is instantly dashed. “You will give me your answer before you leave this room.” This time, it’s not even phrased as a question. A sliver of fear slides up your spine at the way he’s acting, at all of the breaches of formality that he’s abandoning. There is something horribly wrong here, and yet nothing you can do about it.

“I am not asking you to marry me tomorrow. Simply consent to allow me to court you.” He stands up from his throne at this as he begins to walk towards you. You’re aware of just how tall he is as he moves towards you, until he’s standing far too close for propriety's sake.

“I - I just,” you stammer a bit, cringing internally at the breach of your own sense of formality that is now occurring. But everything about this meeting is not normal, and you have been thrown off balance too much to respond quickly. “I apologize for my manners. Of course I consent, Your Highness.”

You find yourself staring into those deep, heterochromatic eyes, not wanting to look away but knowing that you have to. When you finally find the strength, he grabs you by the chin, his hand being far too cool against your heated skin. Shock runs through your system as you’re forced to meet the eyes of Prince Shouto, who is staring at you with an emotion that you just can’t seem to place no matter how hard you try.

“Since I’m going to be courting you, Princess,” he whispers to you as he trails a finger down your jawline, “why don’t we just skip formalities? Call me Prince Shouto.”

Your eyes widen at the implication of calling him that, something that only family may call the heir to the throne. He wants this to already be a done deal, but there has to be some way to still get out of this. The Royal Todoroki family would never force anyone into marriage. You just need to play along a little longer until you can think of a way out of this.

“Of course, Prince Shouto,” you say, and you watch his face light up. He looks almost boyish when he smiles, no longer quite the severe prince that he truly is, and for a second you feel glad at putting that smile on his face as you remember the meeting with him years ago. But you come back to the reality of the situation quickly and scold yourself for behaving like a doey eyed schoolgirl.

“Then it’s settled,” he steps back from you, although he looks reluctant to do so. “I have prepared you a room in the south wing of the castle, and you will have attendants waiting there to take care of any need you may have. Someone will pick up tomorrow at brunch, and I expect you to be ready.”

“What do you want me ready for,” you ask cautiously.

“I wish to show you around the castle, of course. If this is to be your home, then you need to familiarize yourself with it. And it will be a good way for us to get to know each other better, don’t you think?”

“Then I’ll be ready, my --- Prince Shouto,” you instantly correct yourself at the last minute. But his smile widens when he hears you say “my prince,” like it pleases him. He gives a quick nod and a gesture at the door to indicate that you are free to go. But as you turn away to walk to the door, you miss the way his smile turns victorious, a dark chuckle rising from his chest as he sits back down on his throne.

~~~~

Tags: @burnedbyshoto, @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @dee-madwriter, @lildreamer93, @katsukisprincess, @yaoyorozuwrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @hoefortodo, @mhafanfics19, @oktamaki

#shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #todoroki shouto #yandere shoto #yandere shouto #yandere bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #eventual smut #a caged dove #this shit is going to get dark quick #so please beware the series tags #and not just the chapter tags #bnhabookclub

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joezworld · 3 years

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Delta Dawn (10/10)

April, 1995

“Soooo...” Siobhan asked James teasingly over lunch. “When’re ye gonna put a ring on it?”

James, who had not been expecting such a question, spluttered and choked for a minute as Siobhan fell over laughing.

“I’m sure that I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he said at last, his face going as red as his paintwork.

“Sure ye don’!” She giggled. “Just like I’m sure that ye and Del’ ‘ave been shagging each other senseless for fifteen years! You’ve got ta make an honest diesel of ‘er at some point, Red!”

“We-” James choked.

“-are no’ subtle. Everyone else is just blind.”

“Well - I - You - we - What about you and Declan?” James eventually managed.

Siobhan shrugged. “Deccie’s too much o’ a puss to ask me - he’s afraid ‘is parents won’t like ‘im ‘marrying down’. Which, considerin’ that his parents are like, crazy rich Indians who care only about status, I canno’ really blame ‘im”.

“So if he’s not going to marry you, then why are you cheeking off to me?”

“Cause I’m gonna ask him to marry me.” The woman said smugly. “Deccie’s parents won’t be able to say no if I ask because it’d look bad to their friends - they just don’t think I’d do it because they think that girls are weak and subdued!”

James goggled. “They have met you, right?”

“I know, right?” She stretched out on James’ bufferbeam. “I just have to find out his ring size and I’ll do it.”

“Ring size?”

“Oh yeah, ye lot don’ have those. It’s what you put on yer finger to say that ye tied the knot.” She pointed to the fourth finger on her left hand. “It goes ‘ere. Every girl in ma school knew what 'er size was, but blokes are hopeless.”

“Hmm...” James looked pensive. “I might be able to help with that.”

Siobhan raised a surprised eyebrow.

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

Later

“Declan!” James called across the platform. He’d become friends with Siobhan’s boyfriend from the moment they’d met - the sharp-dressed Indian businessman was one of the few people who kept up with fashion at the same pace as James did, and they frequently spoke about the latest trends.

“James! Have you seen this?” Declan smiled as he trotted over with a fresh copy of GQ.

Later Still

“He’s a size 11.”

“How did-”

“-And he likes coloured gemstones - apparently they’re ‘conflict-free’, whatever that means. Make sure that the stones have some meaning about you, because he thinks about you more than him. And don’t worry, he doesn’t suspect a thing.”

“How?”

“I’m James the Splendid Engine - I can do anything.”

-----

One Week Later

Siobhan asked Declan to marry her a week later. James was away on a train when she did it, so he didn’t see it, but apparently Donald and Douglas caused quite the commotion.

That Night

“-so then Donald keeps whistling even after everyone stopped applauding, and it turns out that he’d managed to jam his whistle open!” Henry had seen the whole thing, and was eagerly relaying the story to James at the coaling stage. “I know that it’s a special event, but I’m glad Gordon didn’t see it - he’d never let him hear the end of it.”

They both had a good laugh over that - much to the consternation of Gordon, who knew they were laughing at him but not why.

“Have you put any thought into it?” Henry said once the laughter had died down.

“Have you?” James asked quietly. Why was everyone asking him about this?

“Of course I have - and it’s illegal.” The green engine sighed deeply.

“What? I thought that the Magistrate in Arlesburgh...”

“That man can do many things, but he can’t make gay marriage legal.”

“Oh.” That brought James up short. “If it were?”

“Yes.” Henry said immediately.

No more was said. James was lost in thought, and Henry was fairly sure he knew what about.

Gordon, who was watching them suspiciously, wondered whether the entire Island had gone crazy when he wasn’t looking, or if he had gone insane and no-one had bothered to tell him.

James was somewhat more subdued than normal for the next few days. It did not go unnoticed, but he refused to say why, only insisting that he was fine, and was thinking about something.

The Fat Controller made several attempts to discover the root of the problem, and only grew more confused as each engine claimed to have heard a different reason why.

“I know that you have something to do with this.” Gordon snapped at Henry after the Fat Controller left the sheds.

“Whatever could you mean?” Henry asked, the very picture of innocence.

“Henry. Look at me. Look at my face.”

“I am. Perhaps that’s why James is so upset - there’s a hair growing out of your nose at a most upsetting angle.”

“I will put you back into that tunnel.”

“No, you won’t.” Bear said, suddenly awake and interested in the conversation. Gordon had been joking, but the Hymek wasn’t, and his tone implied violence if the topic wasn’t changed.

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

A Few Weeks Later

“Psst. Psst. Miss Delta, over here!” One of the coaches whispered to Delta from the entrance of the coach shed.

“What is it, Norma?” Delta grumbled. The coaches had been decidedly on-edge around her for the past few days, and it was starting to become wearisome.

“Can you please come into the sheds? There’s something very important that you need to see!” The second-class coach was looked like she was letting Delta in on a secret, which instantly put the diesel on the alert.

“Why?” She said, visions of past April Fools Days fresh in her mind.

“I can’t tell you out here!”

“How am I supposed to get in there?” Her engine may have been running, but there was no crew in sight - and even if they were here, there was no way that her driver would run her into the carriage sheds based on some gossip.

“You could ask Miss Siobhan!” The coach said brightly.

Delta blinked. Donald and Douglas’ daughter/driver was not usually drawn into the coaches’ cockamamie schemes, but was clearly standing by the fuel pumps holding - but not reading - a magazine like she was waiting to be noticed.

“Huh?” Siobhan said with faux-ignorance. “What am I doing?”

“Could you move Miss Delta into the shed dear?” The coach didn’t even bother with pleasantries, and Siobhan didn’t even bother answering, instead springing into action - throwing her magazine to the ground and clambering into Delta’s cab before the diesel had time to process what was happening.

“Oi!” She yelped as Siobhan poked and prodded at levers until Delta started moving. “You can’t do that! You’re not qualified on diesels!”

“I’m a smart girl, I can figure it out.” Siobhan smiled as she rolled Delta into the carriage sheds.

“Figure it out, my buffers! If I go through the opposite wall...” Delta’s shouting faded as she entered the sheds.

From across the yards, Gordon and Thomas watched as the red diesel dissapeared into the dark confines of the carriage shed, the door closing behind her.

“Thomas, do you ever feel like there are things on this island that we are not aware of?”

“I think you must be bad at noticing things if you don’t know what’s going on right in front of you.”

“Coming from you, that’s like the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Oh really? I know everything, Gordon.”

“Tell me what the word ‘drip’ means, then.”

“It means shut up Gordon.”

“Really? I thought it meant ‘small engines who tell embarrassing stories to authors and then are surprised when those stories are published.’”

“Why don’t we speculate wildly about why Delta was just driven into the carriage shed, hmm?”

“I thought that you knew everything, Thomas. Why don’t you just tell me what she’s doing in there?”

“...”

“What’s that? Is it possible that you don’t know? How strange! I thought that you were omnipotent.”

“shut up Gordon.”

-----------

Inside the carriage shed, Delta was in the dark - literally. All the lights were off, and the roll up door had rolled down behind her.

“What kind of Mickey-Mouse bullshit is this?” She muttered to the empty room, too caught up in the entirety of the event to realize that Siobhan had scampered back down her cab ladder and vanished into the building.

After a moment of quiet murmuring in the dark, a small voice called out. “all right girls - on three, two, one!”

Before Delta could ask what was happening, the light over one track snapped on. A single coach - Delta thought she was Dulcie, one of Duck’s coaches - sat in the circle of illumination. She smiled at the diesel for a moment before a piano of all things, started playing over the building’s PA system.

Delta dawn, what’s that flower you have on, could it be a faded rose from days gone by? The coach was now singing, and Delta was now thoroughly baffled.

She's forty-one and her daddy still calls her, 'baby' All the folks around Brownsville say she's crazy 'Cause she walks down town with a suitcase in her hand Looking for a mysterious dark-haired man

It was bad form to interrupt when somecoach was singing - even if they were clearly deranged, but when this song was over there was going to be some explaining to do.

In her younger days they called her Delta Dawn Prettiest woman you ever laid eyes on Then a man of low degree stood by her side And promised her he'd take her for his bride

For obvious reasons, Delta was familiar with this song, and was rather startled when more lights snapped on, revealing another one of Duck’s coaches - Isabel perhaps? - and Marie and Lilith, two of the first class coaches from the Express, who were all providing backing vocals.

Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on Could it be a faded rose from days gone by? And did I hear you say he was a-meeting you here today To take you to his mansion in the sky?

The centre of the shed was still shrouded in darkness when the lights on the edges snapped on, but Delta wasn’t really in a position to notice, as she was too busy goggling at the sudden appearance of an entire express rake’s worth of coaches on the remaining tracks, all of whom began singing the chorus of the song.

Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on Could it be a faded rose from days gone by? And did I hear you say he was a-meeting you here today To take you to his mansion in the sky?

A light in the back flickered to life, showing Siobhan’s fiancé Declan playing an electric keyboard. Siobhan was next to him with a tambourine. Who is doing this, and how many people are involved? Delta wondered to herself as the music built to the last verses.

Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on Could it be a faded rose from days gone by? And did I hear you say he was a-meeting you here today To take you to his mansion in the sky?

The lights in the centre of the sheds began to brighten, revealing a very familiar set of shapes - on the tracks to either side of hers, Bear and Henry slowly became visible, grinning like lunatics.

Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on Could it be a faded rose from days gone by? And did I hear you say he was a-meeting you here today To take you to his mansion in the sky?

Finally, the light in the centre of the shed turned on, revealing -

“Jamie?!”

James’ smile was threating to break his smokebox in half. “Hello gorgeous.”

“Hello yourself,” Delta said, still extremely overwhelmed. “Did you put all this on? Why?”

“Because I wanted to show you how much you mean to me.” James said sincerely, drawing an “aaaw” from the coaches.

“That’s - Jamie - you didn’t have to...”

James smiled. “Of course I didn’t - but I wanted to. Especially because I wanted today to be special.”

“Why?”

Bear opened his mouth, seemed to realize what he was doing, and then immediately shut it again.

Delta looked at James as she began to put the pieces together. Her mouth dropped open. “Jamie. Are you...”

“Asking you to marry me? Yes I am.”

---

Across the Yard

“Are you really going to bring that up now? It’s been almost fifty years and I didn’t tell him about that!”

“Well I certainly didn’t run my mouth to every clergyman I saw running around with a notebook, so it must have been you.”

“It wasn’t! And thank goodness for that, by the way! Can you imagine the size of your smokebox if the stories were called ‘Gordon the Big Engine and His Friends?’ I can’t imagine that there’d be room on the Island for the rest of us!”

“The only reas - what on earth?”

Thomas and Gordon were drawn out of their bickering by an explosion of cheers from within the carriage sheds. It was loud even from their side of the yard - it must have been cacophonous inside the building.

“You know what Gordon?” Thomas said as the cheers continued with no sign of quieting down. “I take it back. There are things going on in this Island that we don’t know about.”

#ttte #music #sodor #sodor shenangians #oc: Delta #Oc: Siobhan #OC: Declan #ttte bear #ttte henry #ttte james #ttte gordon #ttte thomas #ttte isabel #ttte dulcie #long #helen reddy #awww #fools in love

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ashyblondwaves · 3 years

Note

Hey I’m not sure if headcanons might help your night or maybe make you smile but I have a couple of questions (if you’re feeling up to it obviously!!)

1. What are your headcanons about Wanda and Vision’s first time?

2. What are some things that they experiment with in the bedroom to either learn about each other or explore some fantasies? Is their safe word paprika?

3. Do they sing in bed when they’re doing the do??

6. Does Vision attempt dirty talk ever? Does it go well and Wanda is just super pleasantly surprised? Does it go terribly and Wanda laughs and Vision gets sad so she fucks a smile back on his face?

7. Has Wanda ever been so drunk that she hit on Vision? Has she been so drunk that Vision hit on her and she was appalled because she has a partner (a human one and tall!)

8. Has Vision ever bought Wanda lingerie, toys, crotch less underwear??

9. Has Wanda ever bought Vision lingerie (if they’re into that or some sexy boxer briefs? Idk fuck gender norms) or a toy or crotch less underwear?

11. Did Wanda’s jaw drop when she saw Vision’s naked body (not out of the cradle but in an intimate setting) for the first time?

12. What was Vision’s reaction to seeing Wanda naked for the first time?

13. Do they do a couples shower on a regular basis (for the environment!!)?

14. Do they ever go to Avengers galas and such and pretend not to be together but still dance and sneak away for some bathroom stall sex? Do they make each other jealous for fun??

15. Have they ever had sex on the ceiling, upside down, floating????

16. Does Vision slide Wanda’s copious rings on and off of her after sex and give her fingers little kissies?

18. Does Vision go out at 3am when she wants some random food due to cravings?

19. Does the family have photo shoots with atrocious coordinating outfits?

20. Are Wanda and Vision pounding one out as we speak??

This is a lot and even if you don’t answer I hope that they give you happy thoughts!! Depression ain’t got nothing on you queen.

Oooh look at all these goodies! I’m stuck here until 7am so let’s crack on with these!

1. What are your headcanons about Wanda and Vision’s first time? It was very slow, very careful. They took care of each other, made sure the other was ok throughout. It was all very new and exciting for them, so it was even a little scary. Wanda wasn’t sure what it’d be like to have sex with a sythezoid and well, it was Vision’s first time, period. He just hoped those pleasure receptors were in working order.

2. What are some things that they experiment with in the bedroom to either learn about each other or explore some fantasies? Is their safe word paprika? Light bondage, teasing, edging, pegging. They also have a game to see if Vision can make Wanda cum before the commercials are over during whatever TV show they’re watching. He’s never lost. Safe word is paprika, sure lol. Just read that in a fic yesterday, I thought that was a cute idea.

3. Do they sing in bed when they’re doing the do?? No singing. That kills the mood instantly.

4. When was the first time they shared a bed? Was it in the compound? Did he hear her having nightmares and go to her? Did she ask him to stay before he came on his own or did she ask him to stay once he had already woken her up? I’d like to think it was at the compound, yes. He knew she was having a rough night and phased through to her room and gently roused her from sleep to make sure she was ok. She asked him to stay. He held her all night.

5. Does vision wear socks? Are they the ones with toes or nah? Does he wear socks while he and Wanda are having sex? Did he have some hilarious fashion moments before he figured out how to put amazing outfits together? He definitely wears socks, but not during sex. Just regular dress socks most of the time since he’s a snappy dresser. I don’t think he had any fashion faux pas. He researched extensively before putting his first outfit together.

6. Does Vision attempt dirty talk ever? Does it go well and Wanda is just super pleasantly surprised? Does it go terribly and Wanda laughs and Vision gets sad so she fucks a smile back on his face? He’s both tried and failed and tried and succeeded. Early on, he wasn’t great at it. His analytical ways got the best of him, but as he loosened up and became more comfortable with things, he got better at it. He also read a lot of Google results on talking dirty after his failed attempt. Wanda rolled with it, she’s endeared by him and never laughs in his face. She just smiles and rolls with it.

7. Has Wanda ever been so drunk that she hit on Vision? Has she been so drunk that Vision hit on her and she was appalled because she has a partner (a human one and tall!) Wanda doesn’t usually let herself get beyond tipsy. She doesn’t like that loss of control that being drunk gives her. But she’s certainly been tipsy enough to whisper some pretty suggestive things to Vision while out in public.

8. Has Vision ever bought Wanda lingerie, toys, crotch less underwear?? He bought some handcuffs to use on Wanda and got her a g-spot stimulator for her birthday while he was still learning how to find it. He really enjoyed watching her use it and it helped him find it himself.

9. Has Wanda ever bought Vision lingerie (if they’re into that or some sexy boxer briefs? Idk fuck gender norms) or a toy or crotch less underwear? She got him some underwear that looked like Santa’s suit for him to wear on Christmas Eve one year. It was ridiculous, but he wore them just long enough to get Wanda going. Wanda also has a couple strap ons for pegging purposes that she bought.

10. How did they approach the idea of pegging? Did they see it in a porn? Did Wanda bring it up as an idea? Did Vision? Was he embarrassed to ask/ did he stumble over his words and act kind of nervous for a couple of days before he asked her? What was her reaction? It was a bit of an awkward conversation. Wanda brought it up one night on a whim to see what Vision would say and to her surprise he agreed and said it was something he’d be willing to try. They spent a lot of time doing research together (Vision insisted) before Wanda bought the strap on and they had a good talk before they tried it for the first time. Safe word, paprika.

11. Did Wanda’s jaw drop when she saw Vision’s naked body (not out of the cradle but in an intimate setting) for the first time? Nah but remember that look she gave him when he was “born”? Think of that but even more lustful.

12. What was Vision’s reaction to seeing Wanda naked for the first time? He thought she was absolutely beautiful. He was in awe of her and tbh still is when he sees her naked.

13. Do they do a couples shower on a regular basis (for the environment!!)? Definitely. Wanda always gets pampered in the shower and she loves it. Standing there while Vision washes her up.

14. Do they ever go to Avengers galas and such and pretend not to be together but still dance and sneak away for some bathroom stall sex? Do they make each other jealous for fun?? After awhile they realized they weren’t fooling anyone and stopped pretending. After that they stayed attached at the hip, were dancing for every slow song played and left early so they could get home and devour each other.

15. Have they ever had sex on the ceiling, upside down, floating???? Well sure! They have the ability, so why not?

16. Does Vision slide Wanda’s copious rings on and off of her after sex and give her fingers little kissies? He plays with her hands after sex. Spins the rings, kissing the tips of her fingers, spins another, kisses her palm. It feels nice, so Wanda lets him indulge.

17. How does Vision make Wanda feel better when she is upset during her pregnancies? Like when she can’t fit into her clothes or when she’s feeling self conscious or when she just gets emotional all of a sudden? Or when she’s having superhero anxiety about safety for the boys, the new baby, Vision, herself? How often does he stare or grab her belly bc he’s obsessed? He’s always there to assure her that she’s beautiful and the reason she can’t fit in her clothes is a good one and it will all be worth it. A protective hand is never far away when Vision is around Wanda’s belly. Vision also gives the best dad talks after the boys are born, helping Wanda to feel better about their safety.

18. Does Vision go out at 3am when she wants some random food due to cravings? You know it!

19. Does the family have photo shoots with atrocious coordinating outfits? No atrocious outfits, but the photos shoots, yes. We saw them in WV! My headcanon of course is that they were Vision’s idea.

20. Are Wanda and Vision pounding one out as we speak?? Of course they are lmao.

#asks #reply #headcanons #Anonymous

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a-deadly-serenade · 3 years

Text

Alchemy Between You & Me: Chapter 1: Arsenic [Guy of Gisborne/Reader]

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362053/chapters/66860944

“Come now, we don’t want to be late!”

Your mother ushered you forward with a firm push on the back and you glared at her in response.

“I doubt we’ll be sorely missed if we’re a few minutes late, mother,” you replied sharply and sat down on the opposite side of the coach, away from your parents.

“You don’t know this sheriff,” she huffed. “He is a very punctual man, does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Well, I find it hard to believe that he’ll be eagerly awaiting my esteemed arrival,” you grumbled and focused your attention outside to peruse the scenery that slowly trickled by as the carriage made its way through the forest.

“Actually, you’ll find that several acquaintances on the council are quite interested in meeting you,” your father said.

“Really?” you replied, one of your eyebrows raised skeptically. “And why’s that?”

“Do you think we’ve gone this whole time without mentioning you?” your mother gawked.

“So you aren’t ashamed of your unmarried daughter who is currently pursuing academics instead of a husband?”

“Of… of course not,” she replied and cleared her throat as her eyes darted away from your annoyed stare.

“They’ve been most fascinated in this talk of you performing alchemy,” your father added with a hearty chuckle. “It’s becoming quite the trend for some within the ranks to try their hand at turning cheap metals into gold.”

“Father, I’ve already told you that no alchemist has ever accomplished such a thing,” you replied. “Think of it as an auspicious rumor and nothing more.”

“Nonsense! I’m sure they just haven’t discovered it yet!” he gave you a big grin and took hold of your shoulder to give it an endearing squeeze. “I bet you could though!”

You gave an awkward chuckle. “Right…”

The remainder of the ride was filled with menial chit-chat on the part of your parents as they tried to play catch up on the finer details of what you did during your time abroad. You were frankly relieved when the carriage was pulled to a stop and the coachman announced that you had arrived.

Stepping out of the carriage you are greeted by an enormous castle, its stone walls stretching high into the sky, locking you in. The plaza was filled with a dozen other horses and carriages and a few guards stationed nearby came over to greet you and your family.

“Welcome to Nottingham,” one said and the two bowed before you. “I trust you’re here for the sheriff’s private dinner party?”

“Yes,” your mother replied. “We aren’t late are we?”

“Not at all!” the other guard said. “If you would follow us, we shall escort you to the great hall.”

“Wonderful!” she grinned and took a tight hold of your arm. “Now, I shouldn’t have to remind you to be on your best behavior, yes?”

“Of course,” you replied curtly and flinched when she squeezed tighter for one second more before relinquishing her grip and following your father’s lead up the stairs.

With a heavy sigh, you followed after them. Heading down several hallways and a set of stairs, the two guards offered your family one last curtsy before they pushed open the large wooden doors and announced your arrival.

Down below, several rows of tables had been set up and they were filled with an assortment of foods. There were rich cuts of venison and pork, wheels of cheeses and baskets of fresh bread. Bowls of fresh fruit and platters of baked goods also intermingled amongst all of the savory options, and several servant boys and girls weaved through the crowd, each holding a pitcher filled with aged wine.

As you neared the bottom of the stairs, you heard someone exclaim,

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite nobles with their notable daughter,”

Your father chuckled and he and your mother both bowed before a short, balding man with a greying beard wearing luxurious black robes.

You quickly followed suit and you heard the man laugh to himself.

“Come, we are all friends here, let us dispense with such formalities,” he said and came closer to you. “Is this your little scholar? Hmm?” he asked and gestured to you.

“Yes, my lord,” your mother replied. “She has only just returned from Bologna.”

“Bologna?” he echoed. “Why I’ve heard they’re only second to Paris in terms of their education. But,” he tutted and a mischievous grin spread across his face. “I thought students were granted the status of a cleric by canon, yet here you stand, an educated woman.”

“Oh, well,” she laughed nervously. “She… she was only taught the basics by a friend of ours, a local professor at the university, nothing having to do with the seven liberal arts,” she feigned stupidly.

“Shame,” he quipped. “It’d be nice to discuss the semantics of moral philosophy with someone. I thought you claimed she was trained in alchemy?”

“Did you tell everyone in England that I was a training alchemist?” you snapped.

The man before you laughed. “Spirited! My last alchemist was a meek disappointment, I like it when they have a bit of fire in them.”

You grimaced and scoffed internally. This man was making you severely uncomfortable.

“Oh, but where are my manners?” he said dramatically and suddenly took a hold of your hand. “I am Vasey, lord of this castle and the town of Nottingham. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the lovely young lady that has managed to capture my interest.”

You felt your skin crawl and it took all the power within you to manage to flash him a shaky, crooked smile. “So,” you said softly and swallowed a lump in your throat. “You must be the sheriff.”

He grinned in response, the sight of a glittering jewel on his left incisor catching your attention.

“At your service. I’d love to have a chat with you later, my dear, but I won’t keep you from the festivities. Come,” he finally turned away from you to flourish at the literal feast decked out on the tables. “Eat, drink. Take this as a humble offering of friendship.”

“‘Humble’? You are much too gracious, my lord,” your father replied and the sheriff snickered at his praise.

“Yes, yes. Tell me, my friend, how have things been?” the sheriff wrapped an arm around your father’s shoulders and led him away from you and your mother as they started to discuss something in private.

“Well, that went better than expected,” your mother muttered and grabbed your arm again as she took you to a nearby table with a few empty seats.

A plate of food was all but shoved into your face and although you weren’t particularly hungry, you had an inkling that you should stomach something, lest appear ungrateful.

You picked at some roasted vegetables, but were grateful for the variety of cheeses available, and paired with the never-ending wine, you were able to find yourself somewhat satiated.

Taking a few more sips from your goblet, you felt your nerves begin to dissipate and you sighed as you leaned back into your chair.

Your mother was making meaningless conversation with a few other noblewomen beside her and your father, who had long since returned from his escapades with the sheriff, stood nearby, surrounded by a group of men who were all laughing and uproariously shouting about lord knows what.

Frankly, you did not wish to be pulled into either realm of their faux-pas spectacles so you quickly excused yourself and went over to admire one of the centerpieces. Yes, you were that bored and that stubborn.

How much longer do we have to stay here and play nice? you thought. The idea of having to speak with the sheriff again made your stomach tie into knots and you sincerely hoped that he’d get so wrapped up in everyone else vying for his attention that he’d forget about you.

You let your fingers trail across the beautiful bird feather that stuck out of the bouquet of flowers and heaved a heavy sigh.

The more you dwelled on it, the clearer it became that the only reason your parents had ushered you home as quickly as they did, was solely due to your most recent academic undertaking. During your time in Bologna, they hardly sent any correspondence back on updates about your other studies, such as literature or astronomy or even philosophy. However, as soon as you picked up a skill that could be monetized? Their tune switched almost instantly.

Although you had always had a tumultuous relationship with your parents, it saddened you that they viewed this skill of yours as nothing more than an opportunity to further their status. You were an alchemist, someone dedicated to discovering the mysteries of the universe… not a modern-day Midas that could turn piss-poor metals into gold.

Even tonight seemed to be a ploy of some sort. Had they only brought you along because the sheriff was so interested in you? What did they hope to accomplish?

You frowned and folded your arms across your chest. Something didn’t feel right, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it…

“Excuse me?”

You paid no mind to whoever had just spoken, lost in your own thoughts as you attempted to deduce your parent's plan.

“Excuse me? My lady?”

Ugh, you inwardly groaned when you realized they were talking to you. I suppose I can endure one conversation… you thought and hoped it would at least pass the time by.

Turning around you feel your heart skip a beat when you find a man standing before you, a rather handsome man, you might add.

He was tall, fair-skinned with short black hair that framed his sharp face. His bright blue eyes seemed to shine in the candlelight and he gave you a smile that made butterflies dance in your stomach.

“I apologize,” he said and his deep baritone made you gasp quietly in delight. “I did not disturb you, did I?”

“Oh no,” you quickly replied with a shake of your head. “No, I was… simply lost in my own thoughts for a moment. I should be the one apologizing. It was you who called out to me a moment ago, was it not?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I merely wanted to introduce myself,” he explained. “I am Sir Guy of Gisborne, the sheriff’s master at arms.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Guy,” you replied and flashed him a charming smile as you introduced yourself.

“What a lovely name,” he said and you felt heat rise into your cheeks at his compliment. “I thought it appropriate we meet as I wished to see for myself just who this infamous alchemist the sheriff kept heralding was.”

“Oh,” you replied and tried to mask your disappointment. So he was only interested in getting into your favors to please the sheriff… you supposed you should have anticipated this happening.

“I am curious to know what drew you to the field,” he said. “I heard you studied in Bologna. Do they offer alchemy as a class?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you could not help the laughter that erupted from you. “What? A class? No,” you chuckled. “No, most schools are run and sourced by the church and I can’t exactly say that the church is the biggest fans of us alchemists.”

“Really?” he mused. “And why is that?”

“We seek to understand the meaning of our place in this world,” you explained. “One of the duties of an alchemist is to answer the great questions of mankind and I suppose trying to scientifically discover the meaning of life goes against the morals of the church.”

“Do your discoveries stray from God, my lady?” he asked you with a smirk.

“I doubt blasphemy is an appropriate conversation to hold over dinner, Sir Guy,” you replied just as playfully and bit your lip as he laughed.

“Just as well,” he said. “I’m simply surprised. You are so young, I never would have imagined a lovely woman such as yourself would find interest in the sciences.”

“Believe me,” you replied. “Transmutation and metallurgy are far more fascinating than playing the role of the dutiful daughter.”

“You’ve quite the sharp tongue,” he commented and you felt your face turn hot. “Are the churches in Europe far more progressive?”

“Only if they’re paid enough to be,” you replied in a whisper and giggled at the devilish smirk that spread across his lips.

This night was turning out to be more fun after all! It was a first for you to hold a conversation with a man that wasn’t immediately off-put by your wits. Not only that, he could hold his own and was not offended by your rather dicey sense of humor. Where had men like Guy been hiding out for all these years?

“Ah, Gisborne!”

The sound of the sheriff’s voice instantly soured your mood and you frowned. Well, tonight had been turning around…

Vasey paled in comparison to Guy’s stature however, in spite of this, Guy’s previous confident demeanor seemed to shrink under the sheriff’s intense gaze.

“I see you’ve found the belle of the ball,” he snickered and you laughed awkwardly in response. “I’m not surprised you came sniffing around here.”

“Sir Guy was merely introducing himself, my lord,” you replied. “He’s been engaging company,” you offered Guy a shy smile at his surprised expression.

“Gisborne? Engaging?” the sheriff chortled. “Well, that’s a first. Unless, of course, he jumped straight into discussing his own experiment.”

“Experiment?” you asked with a raise of your eyebrows. “You conduct experiments, Sir Guy?”

“Only one,” he replied and awkwardly shifted where he stood. “But, that was some time ago.”

“Yes, and it did not end all too well either,” the sheriff scowled. “Tell me, my dear, have you heard of black powder?”

“I can do you one better,” you said matter-of-factly. “I know how to make black powder.”

The sheriff’s eyes widened in shock and he gasped in delight. “You do?” he said softly and then grabbed your hands, holding them reverently as if silently blessing you. “Remarkable, absolutely remarkable.”

“Is… that what your experiment was?” you wondered, hoping that your question would get the sheriff away from you as soon as possible.

It seemed to work and he relinquished his grip to take a step back and nod his head. “Yes. Gisborne here had been in charge of commissioning someone but, unfortunately, he,” the sheriff dragged his finger across his neck and then shrugged his shoulders. “Took his secrets to the grave.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call the formula for black powder a secret,” you replied with a coy smile. “It’s been known by the Cathay Empire since at least the ninth century.”

“So you’re telling me, that if given the right ingredients, you would be able to cook me up a batch of black powder?” the sheriff asked.

“Of course, it’s a simple combination of charcoal and sulfur and—“

Vasey instantly hushed you on any further talk about this formula but assured you that your enthusiasm was very much appreciated.

“This is good,” he grinned. “This is very good. I should have known you’d be the perfect fit ever since your parents first mentioned you.”

You are clearly confused by his words, your face scrunched up together as you gazed upon him skeptically. “‘Perfect fit’? What are you talking about?”

“Oh,” he hummed. “Did mommy and daddy not tell you? That does add a bit of suspense to it then, hmm?” he laughed. “You, my dear, are to be my alchemist.”

“What?” you blurted out and started to laugh at the utter absurdity of the idea. However, any previous ideas of the sheriff lightheartedly joking evaporated into a puff of smoke when you took one long look at him.

Oh. He was serious.

“What do you mean I’m to be your alchemist?” you said carefully, your eyes narrowed only slightly.

“Do you think I just let anyone come to these private dinners of mine? A clue?” he shook his head. “No. I wanted to see for myself if you were as noteworthy as your parents heralded you to be and thankfully for you,” he took an imposing step forward and poked you in the chest with one of his stubby fingers. “You’ve passed.”

“My… my parents agreed to this?” you muttered and dread pooled into the pit of your stomach as your eyes whirled around in search of them.

They were nowhere to be found! Had… had they simply brought you here to be assessed by the sheriff? You weren’t something that could be passed around from one person to the next! You weren’t cattle!

“Where are they?” you seethed and the sheriff seemed to take an uncomfortable amount of glee in your anger.

“Their business is complete, my dear. My best guess is that they’re off to head back home.”

He made no effort to stop you as you shoved past him and raced up the stairs to make it to the courtyard.

Your heavy breaths fogged up in the chilled night air and the white light of the moon caused an eerie glow to fall on the shadows of the nearby coaches. You could hear a pair of voices whispering in a hushed tone as you neared your family’s personal carriage, anger coursing through your veins when you rounded the corner and came face-to-face with your parents.

“What have you done?” you snarled, catching them both by surprise.

“Darling!” your mother exclaimed and gave you a nervous smile. “What… what are you doing here? Surely you do not wish to miss the last half of the supper?”

“Save the act, mother,” you replied bitterly. “He already told me.”

“Told you what?”

The fact that she still tried to play innocent made your blood boil and you exclaimed, “He told me that I am to be his personal alchemist!” your feet stomped across the hard stone and you pointed an accusatory finger at the pair of them. “I am not some commodity to be passed around! First Bologna, now this? If you wanted me gone, at least spare me the theatrics and tell me outright.”

“Why would you say such a thing?” your father interjected. “You know we only want what is best for you!”

“That’s rich,” you replied sardonically.

“Watch your tongue, missy,” your mother snapped.

“No,” you quipped. “Do not lie and say that this decision was made with my best interests in mind when you and I both know that this is yet another cog in playing your roles as the sheriff’s loyal lapdogs—"

Smack!

The sound of a palm striking across bare skin rings out into the deathly quiet pavilion.

Your eyes are wide with shock and you feel tears start to well up and cloud your vision as you place a hand on your bruised cheek.

Your father huffed as he lowered his hand and gave you a menacing glare. “Now, I tolerated this attitude of yours when you returned from Bologna, believing you were scorned having been taken away from your studies prematurely. But this willfulness stops now. You are going to work for Vasey and that’s final,” he turned away to begin hauling himself into the carriage.

“Perhaps he will be the one to finally beat this resilience out of you.”

Your mother said nothing but her cold, piercing stare revealed all that you needed to know as she followed after your father.

When the carriage pulled out of the castle portcullis and receded from your view down the winding road of Nottingham, you released an arduous sigh.

You were silent as you ran in the direction of a nearby wall, hidden in the shadows and away from prying eyes. You rested your forehead against the stone, its natural chill cooling your heated skin. It was only then, did you allow the tears to fall.

You gasped as a torrent of tears streamed down your face and you weakly slammed your fist against the stone wall.

They had abandoned you… again.

You slowly crumbled into a heap on the floor, tucking your knees into your chest as you wiped away your tears with your sleeve. Were you the one to blame here? You always prided yourself on your sense of independence and headstrong attitudes, but could this have been your very undoing?

Bologna, you thought, despite giving your parents this newfound opportunity to brag about having an alchemist in the family, had not been nearly as successful in stomping out your spirit as initially hoped. Was Nottingham supposed to take its place then?

While you had been in Italy, for a brief moment, you almost felt in control of your life. The opportunity to both grow academically and spiritually had been life-changing. Your mind has been opened to the endless possibilities and questions that encompassed the human spirit and it was with this newfound knowledge that you were able to finally act independently.

Your whole life up until that point had been dictated by your parents, from what you wore, to what you ate, to even the company you kept. It took being sent thousands of miles away from home to make you truly feel alive.

However, you should have known that this feeling of boundless freedom was never meant to last. Sooner or later they would have you crawling back to England, willingly or not, and once again, it was impossible to not feel both incredibly powerless and incredibly frustrated.

You’d had your first taste at real purpose, one that you pursued wholeheartedly, and now that had been stolen from you as well.

No matter how hard you vied for change, the end result was always the same and an overwhelming sadness encompasses you at this realization, one that settles into the very marrow of your bones.

You took a gander up at the night sky, the stars twinkling brightly alongside the white light of the moon. Your eyes fluttered shut as you took a deep breath, your shoulders sagging from exhaustion as the reality of the situation caught up with you.

This… was your home now, this was your life now. You supposed it could be worse but you doubted that the sting left behind from this sense of betrayal would ever leave your bruised heart.

The sound of metal spurs clicking against the stone caught your attention and you're rooted to the spot as a figure emerged from the shadows and towered above you.

“Are you alright?”

Your eyes widened in surprise when Sir Guy appeared in the moonlight, his face creased with worry as he kneeled down before you.

Turning your head away from him, you cough into the crook of your arm and wave off his concern.

“Yes, I’m… I’m alright,” you said softly, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. “I just needed some time alone.”

He’s quiet and you hear the leather of his pants squeak as he adjusts his footing. “Do you wish to be alone?” he wondered. “The sheriff was worried when you did not return, so he sent me after you. I can tell him that you already went off to bed if you’d like.”

Your lips upturned into a smile and although your eyes were surely red and your cheeks surely puffy, you turned to face him to express your gratitude.

“That’s very kind of you, Sir Guy. I do not think I would be able to face the sheriff in the near future.”

“I’m assuming you spoke to your parents?”

You sighed and titled your head up to look back up at the dozens of stars that dotted the night sky. “Was it that obvious?” you replied dryly. “I was left with no say in the matter. It appears as though this had been their plan all along,”

“I hope you understand that you will not be treated as a prisoner here,” he said and you scoffed in response.

“Then why does it feel like it?”

You nearly jump out of your skin when Guy places a tentative hand on your shoulder and you look at him, absolutely bewildered.

“I apologize… if this isn’t exactly the life you envisioned. However, I assure you that life here in the castle isn’t completely unbearable.”

“Oh?” you said and felt yourself relax when you picked up the sudden playfulness in his tone.

“Once in a while, you’ll meet someone that turns this place around,” he said with a knowing smile and you laughed.

“I don’t know,” you replied. “I doubt even your charming company could help me warm up to this place.”

“It’s not all bad,” he said and you would be remiss to say that you weren’t disappointed when he removed his hand from your shoulder.

“Since Nottingham is at the center of this shire, all of the villages are in relatively close proximity. It’s a nice escape to visit every once in a while.”

“Would the sheriff even allow me to go anywhere?” you asked cynically. “Seems to me the only reason I’m here is to be his alchemist.”

“I am not sure what your parents told you, but you are a guest here in the castle,” Guy replied earnestly. “I know the sheriff may seem rather… eccentric, but you are now a valued member of his team. Think of being his alchemist as your job. Even the farmers that toil in the fields all day have time to rest, recuperate, maybe visit the market,”

You finally brought your eyes to meet his and felt your heart skip a beat at the smile on his face.

“I’m sure this must be incredibly jarring, being brought home from Bologna only to be thrust here of all places,” he said sympathetically. “In time, however, I am sure you will learn to see this place as a second home.”

His kind words helped dull the sting you had previously been feeling, nevertheless it was hard to remain optimistic in such a situation. For now, you supposed you could get by with exuding a facade of collective composure, at least long enough till you decided how you truly felt about this place.

You reached over and gave Guy’s arm a reassuring squeeze, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Thank you, Sir Guy,” you said. “I… I will try.”

He smiled and got up from the floor and offered you his gloved hand. You took it and in one strong pull, he hoisted you up.

“If you’d like,” he said. “I could show you to your room.”

“That would be lovely,” you replied with a smile. “Thank you.”

You shyly wrapped your arms around the one he politely extended to lead and the two of you silently began to walk through the halls of Nottingham castle.

It was much bigger than you initially anticipated and if it weren’t for Guy, you surely would have gotten lost. You started to worry about the following morning and sincerely hoped that the sheriff would send someone down to fetch you lest you wander off into an unsavory part of the castle.

The halls were sparsely decorated with various weapons and tapestries but nothing too extravagant, which you found a little odd considering the sheriff’s rather audacious wardrobe choice.

Walking up a set of stairs, Guy leads you down a hallway before slowly coming to a stop before a large wooden door.

“This is where you shall be staying,” he said and pulled it open for you.

It was fairly large and furnished with a bed, desk, armoire, and even a fireplace. It did not exactly feel very homey but, for now, it would do.

“Feel free to request anything that you may need with any of the guards stationed around,” Guy said. “They’ll fetch anything so long as they can find it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied and dragged your hand across the blanket that lay on top of the bed. It was surprisingly very soft.

“And, if you’d like, I could give you a tour of the castle tomorrow, to help you familiarize yourself with its layout. I know how confusing it looks to first-time visitors.”

“That would be very helpful,” you said and turned back to face him. “Thank you, Sir Guy—for everything. It’s reassuring to know that I have at least one friend here.”

His eyes lit up and he gifted you another stunning smile before he bowed his head. “Of course, milady. I will be here at your beck and call, all you need to do is ask.”

You giggled and curtsied as you said, “You are too kind to me. I will see you tomorrow, then?”

He nodded his head. “Of course. Till then, I wish you a pleasant rest of your evening, milady,” he said and departed with one last glance, closing your door with a quiet click.

24 notes · View notes

gaycrouton · 4 years

Note

M and S have sex while they're both wasted

The world was spinning. Or was it him?

One celebratory drink in their motel room had somehow turned into several. He couldn’t count right now, but he could tell it was a lot from the amount of bottles and cups that were currently adorning the hotel thingy.

What’s it called? Ott-o-man.

He chuckled lightly at the dumb word and Scully started laughing just because he was. He thinks that’s why they didn’t stop. There was definitely a time when they’d commented on being drunk, too drunk, but they didn’t stop. They were having fun, they were laughing - they never got to enjoy themselves like this.

She was flushed from drinking, the Irish in her coming out full throttle tonight as she threw them back like a champ. But now, hours later, he could see just how much it was affecting her. She was swaying back and forth while sitting on the bed a foot away from him. Her eyes were glassy and a small, drunken smile had taken permanent residency on her face. Her hair was tousled more than he’d ever seen it before and her blouse was unbuttoned so low he could see the tops of her boobs.

Scully’s boobs. Another giggle escaped his lips.

“You-you’re so pretty,” he gushed, trying to stabilize himself on the bed so that the painting of a flower on the wall would stop moving.

“You think I’m pretty?” she asked, a goofy laugh bellowing from her chest as she clumsily tried to tame her hair with her hands.

“You’re not just pretty. You’re beautiful,” he exclaimed, easing himself up higher on the bed.

With much difficulty, she kicked off her shoes, each landing with a loud thud on the floor, before crawling closer to him on the bed. “Can I ask you somethin’, Mullher?” she asked, the alcohol slurring her speech.

“O-of course, Scully. You can ask me anythin’. Always,” he reassured with as much sincerity as he could muster. Her tight skirt wasn’t meant for crawling on beds, so the fabric was moving higher and higher up the creamy expanse of her thigh everytime she scooted closer to him. If he was seeing right, which he easily might not be, he could see a pair of bright blue panties flashing at him.

“Mulder!” she laughed, putting her hand in between her legs and shielding his view, bringing her knees together so her hand was trapped.

“Oops,” he chuckled, putting his hands up in exaggerated guilt. “Sorry, Scully.”

“It’s hard to s-sit in this,” she explained, highly amused by her fashion faux pas. He was just about to recommend she take it off when she fell on her side and rolled so she was facing him, her hands going to her waist. “It’s n-not comfe-ertable,” she explained, her fingers fumbling with the zipper at the side.

He’d had a chub for what felt like since she came into his room, but at the sight of Scully disrobing, albeit clumsily, it instantly turned into a full blown, leaking hard on.

“Did you wanna ask me somethin’, Scully,” he asked, putting his hands in his lap as he watched her boobs jiggle on her chest while she tried sloppily to undo her skirt.

The button came off and she let out an audible sigh of relief, sliding the zipper down with ease. “Umm,” she mused, lifting her hips and, after a few tries, flinging the skirt to the ground.

Scully lay on her back, just in her top, a pair of blue, lacy underwear, and her little white socks. She started toeing her socks off, the muscles of her thighs moving under her skin as she did so. “Oh yeah!” she exclaimed, sitting up when both socks were on the floor.

She crawled so she was sitting up again, crossing her legs as she sat facing him. “Will you answer honestly?” she asked with exaggerated seriousness.

“Scout’s honor,” he promised, saluting.

“Have you ever,” she interrupted herself by giggling, covering her face as she did so and he felt himself laughing in response. She looked back up at him, her bright blue eyes looking somehow bluer through her mirth. “Have you ever thought about fucking?”

His eyes bulged in his head at the crudeness of her language and it caused them both to laugh again. “Fucking?” he asked. She nodded and he joked, “Have you seen my porn collection.”

“No, no, no,” she giggled, shaking her hands in front of her face. “Have you ever thought about fucking me?” she asked.

His jaw dropped open, his eyes inadvertently flicking down to that thin little patch of fabric that was concealing her pussy from view. If it was brighter, he was certain he could see the indent in the fabric where her lips met. Mulder’s eyes roamed up her body until he was staring into her curious eyes. “I think tha-’s all I ever do, Scully,” he admitted.

A cute smile spread across her face so hard that he could see her dimples. “Do you think about fucking me?” he asked.

She cocked her head so that it was leaning on her elbow. “Of course, Mu-Muller. Look at you!” she exclaimed, leaning forward so her hand was sloppily stroking his abdomen. “You’re beautiful. And you have abs!” she proclaimed.

“Barely,” he laughed, enjoying the feeling of her touching him.

She tsked in disapproval and lifted up his shirt. “Oh, really? Then what’re these?”

He shivered as she traced the faint lines with her finger. “My abs,” he admitted with a laugh.

“Why don’t we?” she slurred, looking up at him from her bent over position.

“Why don’t we what?” he asked, too focused on looking down her shirt and enjoying her hands’ ministrations.

“Fuck,” she asked, her hands dipping a little lower so that she was touching the beginning of his happy trail.

The erection he’d been sporting started hitting the underside of her forearm. She noticed this, and let her hand fall to the front of his dress pants, rubbing her hand up and down the length of him. “Scullee,” he gasped, bucking into her hand.

She sat back up, releasing her hold on him. His cock missed her warmth immediately until he realized she let him go only so she could whip her blouse over her head. As she was doing it, it got stuck, so she was just sitting there on the bed with her midriff and bra partially exposed while her arms flailed in her shirt.

Unable to help himself, he leaned forward and started tickling her sides, laughing as her whole body twitched and jerked. “Nooo, Mul-der, help me!” she laughed, squirming on the bed.

Mulder eased himself up onto his knees in front of her, smiling down at her trapped head while he stuck his fingers under the rolled hem of her shirt. “I’m helping, I’m helping,” he reassured with a smile.

She wiggled from side to side, the fabric rising up with her movements until she was free, the shirt flying forgotten into the corner of the room. She matted her hair back down with exasperation and dramatically sighed. “That’s what I get for tryin’ to be sexy,” she laughed.

“No,” he shook his head, using his hands to push her shoulders lightly so she fell onto her back on the mattress. She looked dazed from the movement, but her focus was honed in on him as he crawled between her legs, nestling his hard on into her pubic mons as he trapped her with his weight against the bed. “This is what you get for bein’ sexy,” he murmured, rocking his hips against hers.

A breathless laugh escaped her lips as her hands grasped his biceps. Her eyes fluttered shut as she lifted her hips up to his, grinding her heat against him. His erection started feeling uncomfortable so confined in his pants and boxers, but the sensation of grinding her into the mattress with it felt better than anything. “You ‘ave too many clothes on,” she complained.

“Funny, I was thinkin’ the same thing,” he replied, easing off of her so he could whip his shirt off and shove his pants and boxers down his legs. He got a little caught, being he hadn’t taken off his shoes yet, so it took him a little longer than he’d wanted.

When he turned back to her, she’d stripped her bra and underwear off and was currently reclined on her back, touching herself while she watched him. He watched in rapture as her fingers swirled around her bundle of nerves before plunging into her tight heat.

Realizing that was his job, he crawled back over to her and situated himself in between her legs, grabbing his cock in his hand and knocking her fingers out of the way with it so he could coat himself with her arousal.

She laughed at his insistence and moved her hands to the back of his neck, pulling him down so she could kiss him. She tasted like wine coolers and vodka as her tongue invaded his mouth. He’d always imagined Scully would be an amazing kisser, and she was proving him right. Even through the drunken haze, she was driving him wild - from the little sounds she was making while he ran his tongue over hers, to the way she was arching her back to maximize the amount of skin touching.

Scully lifted her leg up onto his hip, and he could feel the heat of her radiating onto his cock. Unable to resist it any longer, he plunged into her.

His breath was stolen as she broke the kiss to gasp, her eyes shooting open as their bodies finally met. Part of him realized he should have prepared her better and he let out a breathy, “I’m sorry,” stilling himself inside her even though every fiber of his being was telling him to start thrusting his hips.

“No. Keep going,” she commanded, pushing into his lower back with the heel of her foot.

Her wish was his command, so he pulled all the way out before thrusting himself back in as deep as he could go. She cried out again, her nails scoring his back as he continued to do the motion over and over again, picking up speed in time with her cries. “God, Mulder,” she groaned as he leaned up, grabbed her ass, and pulled her closer to him on the bed.

He was certain he’d never felt anything so tight and wet in his entire life. His intoxication made it feel like their bodies were melting together and they were becoming one. His entire body felt fuzzy and warm except for where they met - it felt like all the blood in his body was rushing to his cock and every slap of his body against hers was a bolt of electricity.

Mulder was bucking against her so hard, the bed was knocking aggressively against the wall, a drum beat acting as an accompaniment for the intensity of this moment. Her hands had moved to cup her breasts, which were bouncing lewdly on her chest with their movements.

He moved one of his hands down towards the apex of her thighs and he started rubbing her clit mercilessly. Her brows furrowed and her head fell back into the pillow as she whined in appreciation. However, his hand being occupied threw off his weight distribution and sent him falling forward into her, his chest falling right on top of hers.

The vibrations of her laughter rocked his body lightly and he couldn’t help but laugh with her. “I’m smooshing you,” he stated, kissing her before rolling to the side.

“Wait,” she stated, noting how he was going to get back up. She rolled over onto her side, mimicking him, and lifted her top leg to rest over his. “Le-’s do it like this,” she requested. “We won’ fall that way.”

He nestled up close to her, grabbing his dick and shoving it between her legs so he could align them again. “Have I ever told you how fuckin’ smart you are?” he asked before ramming himself inside her, grabbing onto her hips as he resumed thrusting.

From this position, he could feel her ass as it squished against him every time he slid into her. He was certain in the morning she was going to have bruises from his fingers digging into her hips, but from the expression of ecstasy on her face, she was loving it. He nestled his face into the crook of her neck and started sucking on the delicate skin there, enjoying the way he could feel her pulse thrumming. “Oh my god,” she murmured, moving her hand in between her thighs to resume what he’d started.

He could feel the way her pussy was starting to contract around him as she was building herself up into a frenzy. “Yeah, that’s it Scully,” he coaxed, leaving a wet spot on her neck from where his mouth had been. “I want to feel you come.”

She tilted her head to the side so he could kiss her, and he instantly covered her mouth with his own. He could feel her sharp intakes of breath as he started picking up the pace, and in only a few moments, he felt her jaw drop open as she was coming.

He started bucking into her unrelentingly as she spasmed and twitched around him. “Fuck, Scully!” he cried, thrusting as deeply as he could before spurting hot inside her.

She turned her head to the side again and kissed him as he tried to catch his breath, overwhelmed by the sensation. “That was-” he began.

“Amazing,” she finished, giggling against him.

Their bodies were sweaty against each other, but all he wanted to do was keep her in his arms. He let go of her hips, noting the angry red marks he’d left as he eased his arms around her, bringing her flush to him.

His cock was starting to soften and fell out of her, resting spent in between her thighs as his come leaked out of her. He pressed a kiss to her sweaty temple and saw her eyes flutter shut, and a small sated smile graced her lips.

They’d exhausted themselves from the excitement, and that mixed with the booze had them knocked out not long after.

——————————————————

The bathroom shining through a cracked door.

The sounds of sickness.

A woman moving around the room.

His door shutting.

Through the pounding headache, he could remember waking up a few times in the night, but it didn’t make sense. They’d been drinking, they made the comment about being too drunk… and then?

He thought it was a dream.

He would have been certain it was a dream if it weren’t for the stickiness he felt around his penis, the blue panties he found near the lamp, and the red marks marring the neck of a partner who couldn’t meet his eye.

#gaycrouton #my fanfiction #mulder #scully #x files #smut #msr #msr smut

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dust2dust34 · 4 years

Text

It’s Always Been You (3/6, Olicity AU, T)

Summary: Oliver and Felicity run into more old friends and get closer to being on the same page.

A/N: Read previous chapters here. Thank you for fabulous response, I'm so insanely glad you guys are enjoying this fic! Hope you’re staying safe!

(read on AO3)

Oliver watched her lips move as she said, “I promise.” Lips he had already been lucky enough to feel against his own, lips he had touched a second ago, because he had been too close to cutting her off with a kiss.

She promised.

He was going to hold her to that.

“Queen!”

They both started, the boisterous call of his name shattering the bubble they’d been caught in. For a second, the music, the chatter, the unique smell of gym mats and chlorine that this part of the building always held, all of it had disappeared.

It was just so easy to fall into her.

“You son of a bitch.”

The words had Oliver smiling, especially when Felicity blinked rapidly as she turned to face the approaching couple. It did not escape his notice that she didn’t let go of his hand, keeping their fingers laced together. He had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.

“Lyla?” Felicity asked just as the other woman’s jaw dropped on a surprised, “Felicity?”

Oliver didn’t get the chance to hear or see more because the hulking man next to their old classmate dominated his vision with a finger in his face. “What’s this I hear about you talking to my wife more than your commanding officer?”

“If I remember correctly, she was also my commanding officer,” Oliver replied. “And yours.”

John Diggle chuckled. “She still is,” he said before throwing an around Oliver’s shoulders and yanking him in for a back-thumping hug. “It’s good to see you, man.”

“You too,” Oliver said with a grin. When he felt Felicity’s arm moving away from him as she hugged Lyla, his fingers instinctively tightened around hers. Too late he realized what he was doing, and it occurred to him that he should probably let go. But then her fingers grasped onto his just as tight. He wondered if Digg felt his heart somersault, or if the slam of it was something only he felt.

“Felicity, this is my husband, John Diggle,” Lyla said with a radiant smile as she looked up at her husband. “Johnny, this is Felicity Smoak.”

“Felicity Smoak,” Diggle said slowly, holding his hand out.

She finally let him go.

Oliver followed her hand without even thinking, a move that didn’t go unnoticed by Lyla as Diggle and Felicity shook hands. His former - and far scarier - commander raised an eyebrow at him and he ducked his head before she could see his blush. He instantly felt stupid. They were professionals, damn it. She had just called him for a consultation three days ago. This was ridiculous. Biting the tip of his tongue, he looked up, hoping to keep his eyes on Diggle and Felicity. Except all he saw was the knowing smile on Lyla’s face that made his blushing worse. She barely stopped herself from laughing out loud.

He glared at her and she pinched her lips to keep from grinning.

It was like they were in high school or something.

Diggle smiled at Felicity. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You have?” Felicity’s eyes darted to Lyla. “I hope only good things because judging by the size of your arms, you could not only throw me across the room, you could bench press three of me.”

Diggle chuckled and then looked at Oliver. “Only good things from this guy.”

His cheeks practically burst into flames.

“Is that so?” Felicity asked as she looked up at him.

Oliver glanced at her and he could only imagine how bright red his face was because the amused tick of her lips turned into a full-blown grin. He turned his glare on Diggle.

“Thanks for that,” Oliver said to him with a pinched smile.

Diggle shot him a needling grin. “What? It’s true.”

Oliver was ready to flip him off, but then he got distracted. By Felicity wrapping her arms around his and lacing their fingers back together. A trifecta of sensation walloped him - his breath caught, his stomach dropped, his heart spasmed. He looked down at their hands and then at her smiling face.

He couldn’t look away, and he didn’t want to.

“So this is new,” Lyla commented, forcing them to refocus on their surroundings.

Felicity’s eyebrows popped as she looked up at Oliver, just as his furrowed as he looked at her. The synchronicity was perfect, and he smiled while she said, “Well…”

“Newish,” Oliver offered, glancing back at the couple. “We’re definitely not engaged.”

The startled look on both their faces alone would have been worth it, but what really made it was the huff from the woman next to him. His grin exploded as he looked at Felicity in time to see her rolling her eyes.

“Uh, that’s…” Lyla started as Diggle’s eyes bounced between them.

“He’s making fun of me,” Felicity said, jabbing her nail into his side. He jerked with a noise at the ticklish pain and she did it again. He managed a near-silent, “Hey,” that only she heard. She stuck her tongue out at him. He chuckled as she explained, “I now suffer from a severe lack of brain filter.”

“She’s exaggerating.”

“I really am not.”

“It’s cute.”

“Until I’m telling people about our sex lives. No, not that. Never that. There’s nothing to tell. Not to say there isn’t anything to tell, because there is. Of course there is, have you seen this guy? Talk about dreams coming true- I’m… going to stop talking in three, two… one.”

Oliver leaned into her, his lips ghosting over her temple as he whispered, “Don’t you dare.”

A hint of coconut filled his senses as her hair tickled his mouth and chin. He lingered, probably too long. The thought disappeared when she practically fell into him, and he kissed her temple as she squeezed his hand really hard at her faux pas.

He didn’t mind in the least.

It suddenly hit him that this was the second - no, third? Fourth? - time he’d kissed her forehead.

“I think I hear a drink calling our names,” Diggle said as Oliver pulled back to gauge her reaction. But she had buried her forehead in his shoulder. Was it her words, or because he was pushing the line of pretending? Diggle clapped Oliver on the shoulder, jerking his attention back to the other man. “See you guys in there?”

“Yeah,” Oliver replied as Felicity finally pulled back and gave them a nod.

“Oh, and hey,” Diggle said with a nod to Oliver to step closer for a moment. He pulled away from Felicity enough for her grasp on his arm to slip, but not their hands. “Lyla told me you’re gonna be assisting on the Ghost Fox case. I’m taking the lead on it.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’ll hit you up in a bit.” Diggle waited for a confirming nod from Oliver before he glanced at Felicity. “It was very nice to finally meet the woman who makes this guy realize life is something to enjoy every once in a while.”

Oliver cursed under his breath. “Give it a rest, will you, John?”

“Never.”

With a wink, he and Lyla headed back to the gym entrance.

“Did he say Ghost Fox?”

“Hmm?” Oliver asked, looking back to her. “Yeah. It’s a, uh… consulting project I’m doing for them. I do some work for them on the side from time to time.”

“You know, I don’t actually know what it is that you do. Which I probably should.”

“Well, this semester I’m teaching Russian and French.”

“You’re a teacher?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Oliver grasped her hand tighter in his and tugged for her to follow him towards where a semi-steady stream of people were stopping at a long table to pick up name tags before entering the gym. “Last year it was Spanish and Mandarin. I have a knack for languages.” He basked in the awed look she gave him and he couldn’t help but ask, “Impressed?”

“Extremely,” Felicity replied. “And… confused.” Off his look, she added, “Not about you. It’s more that I don’t remember them offering such a colorful array of languages when we matriculated.”

“No, we definitely didn’t. But Tommy needed a foreign languages teacher and I needed a change.”

Understatement, he mused silently, although the weight of it didn’t hit as hard as it usually did.

“A change,” Felicity repeated slowly. “Does that have something to do with whatever you needed commanding officers for?”

“Uh…” There was the hit. Oliver tried to shake it off. “Yeah. It… it’s a long story-”

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. I shouldn’t have asked. I have this thing about mysteries and you are proving to be quite the mystery.” Felicity stopped walking and he turned back to her. “I’m sorry.”

He frowned. “For what?”

“Oliver, these aren’t just old high school buddies we’re talking about,” she said. “They’re your friends. Like, real friends. You served together, if I’m guessing right, and you work together, if I’m - again - guessing right, and I’m asking you to lie to them-”

“Felicity. Stop. Please.” The look on her face told him she had every intention of doing the exact opposite. The table holding name tags was blissfully people-free, so he stole the moment to grab theirs before she could get a word in. Most of them were already picked over, so it was easy to spot theirs. Coming back, Oliver held her name tag out to her. “How about we put these on, go inside, get a drink, mingle, dance, do whatever people who attend these things do.”

She reluctantly took it. “Oliver…”

“C’mon. It’ll be fine. I promise.”

She stared at him for a beat before sighing. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you doing this for me.”

“You’re you,” was all he said as he put his name tag on.

Felicity harrumphed and held up her nametag where her senior picture sat next to her name. “Are you sure your brain didn’t get all jostled around in the last few years, because I remember this girl being particularly bitchy most of the time. Not exactly worthy of a favor like this.”

“You are literally the only reason I graduated, Felicity.”

“That’s not true,” she said as she situated her name tag on her left shoulder. “You were always way smarter than you gave yourself credit for.”

“See? That right there is why if it’s you asking, I’ll do it,” Oliver said. “Because you believed in me when nobody else did.” He held his hand out to her. “Shall we?”

It took a moment - really, it took an eternity, if his racing pulse had anything to say about it - but then she gifted him with a gorgeous smile.

It was like the clouds parting and the sun shining down on him for the first time in years.

She grasped his hand in hers.

It fit perfectly.

“We shall.”

Thank you for reading! More tomorrow! Reviews literally the soul and muse!

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #olicity fanfiction #olicitysquee #oliver queen #felicity smoak #olicity au #my fics #my fics: au #it's always been you #dust2dust34 #arrow #fanfiction

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suddenrundown · 4 years

Text

All the Time in the World: Chapter 15

Read previous chapter

Once upon a time, the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration was a name for an entire organization and not just a group of seven, the Starblaster was merely a blueprint, and the Light was more of a scientific enigma than an object upon which the difference between life and death hung.

If one were to look back, those times would seem much simpler, but for Barry Bluejeans, whose default state on a good day was nervous and who over-analyzed everything like it was his job (because it was), no task was simple, and certainly not one with as much scientific importance as the one that had been placed before him.

“With all due respect, Captain, I’m not sure I’m qualified for this.”

Davenport smiled patiently. “Well, with all due respect, Hallwinter, I didn’t ask if you thought you were qualified.”

Continued under the cut, or you can read it on ao3

Once upon a time, Barry Bluejeans was actually named Sildar Hallwinter, but that’s a different story.

Not one to argue, Sildar fanned the resumes on the table in front of him and bent to study them as he rubbed the back of his neck. The four folders held the names, faces, and qualifications of the four individuals that Davenport wanted him to approve of for the mission. Strike that, five individuals. Two of them, a pair of elves apparently named Taako and Lup, shared one folder.

“Why do these two have one resume?” he asked without indicating which he meant, assuming the gnome would know.

“They insisted,” Davenport explained with a chuckle.

That didn’t really seem like a good enough reason, but who was he to get hung up on it? “They also don’t have a last name…”

“The boy said it was T-A-A-C-O, but it was unclear if he was joking or not and there was no way to verify it, so we didn’t press the matter.”

“Lup and Taako Taaco,” Barry mumbled quietly to himself with a small shake of his head as he spent a few minutes pouring over the resumes of the other candidate hopefuls: Magnus Burnsides, Merle Highchurch, and Lucretia. The last one also had no last name. An eclectic bunch, to say the least.

“If you’re showing them to me,” he finally said as he looked up at Davenport, “I’m assuming you believe them to be qualified enough for the job. That’s good enough for me.”

Davenport smiled again. “I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, but that isn’t what I’m asking of you.”

“What are you asking of me?”

“Do you think that you could get along with them?”

“Professionally?” Barry asked with a confused cock of his head. “I’ve never had an issue with coworkers before.”

“Believe me, Sildar, we’ve known each other long enough that I know you’re more than capable of keeping up a working relationship with anyone, no matter what you personally feel about them. You have a non-confrontational nature almost to a fault, but that’s still not what I’m asking.”

“Then what is?”

Davenport leaned forward conspiratorially. “Between you and me, the ship we plan on building won’t be run by normal means. Thanks to the Light, we’ve made so many new scientific and arcane advancements, as you are well aware. Bond energy being one of them.”

“Right,” Barry replied, still not following.

“Would it not be most interesting,” Davenport continued, a twinkle in his eye, “if the vessel we built ran on that bond energy?”

This instantly piqued his interest, and he found himself leaning forward in his seat as well in anticipation. “That would be incredible! We’d be the first! Think of what that could mean for the rest of the world if we managed to do it.” The possibilities already raced through his mind, resumes in front of him forgotten.

“Hence, why the question is so important. Do you, Sildar Hallwinter, think that you could get along well enough with this group of people? Do you think that this group plus the two of us would work well enough with each other that we could power a ship for a handful of months? Do you think that the seven us of us could make history together?”

Sildar then understood what was being asked of him. Davenport knew he was capable, but he was really questioning if he was truly willing. He wanted to know if he could overcome his tendency to hide behind his work and not get involved. Could Sildar step out of his comfort zone in order to accomplish something that had never been thought of before on a mission that promised a world-altering future? Would he pave the way for that future with these four relative strangers?

The faces of those strangers looked back at him as he stared down at their resumes once more, and he smiled at them all before meeting Davenport’s expectant gaze again.

“I wouldn’t dare say no.”

This was enough for Davenport, who knew Sildar well enough to tell this meant he was completely committed. The gnome beamed at him as he sat back in his seat. “Excellent.”

Sildar was determined to be as committed as he could possibly be. He would do his friend proud and prove to himself that he was capable of all that Davenport believed him to be and regret not a moment of his part in this adventure. And true to his word, over the course of the following weeks, as he began attending rigorous training classes and helping to run a few of them, he interacted with the individuals he’d be sharing space (both the deep and dark kind and the mechanical kind) with. Or rather, he tried his best. He found each of them intimidating in some way and couldn’t bring himself to actually introduce himself formally the first day. Or the second. Or the third.

The only thing he did manage to accomplish that first day was accidentally offend the elven twins by staring just a little too long when they whirled into the classroom a few minutes late. Neither seemed all that remorseful about their tardiness nor embarrassed by the stares from everyone else and simply fell into two empty chairs a few seats down from Sildar.

As they settled in, everyone else went about their business, except for Sildar, who found himself unable to stop watching them. Perhaps it was the brazen way in which they carried themselves despite committing what he himself would have considered a genuinely mortifying faux pas. Or it was the way in which the boy (Taako, he remembered) exuded a certain grace that didn’t seem possible with how he sprawled out in his chair, looking around the room like he was sizing everyone else up in the most casual way. Or it was how alarmingly nervous and intimidated he felt looking at Taako and his sister Lup, who were so...beautiful.

This was not the sort of thing he tended to fixate on, nor was it something he ever really noticed in general. He wasn’t the sort to care, but something about them grabbed his attention. Lup, who was closest to him, leaned down and rifled through a bag that was slung over the back of her chair, and he wondered if it was how neither she nor her brother looked made up at all, like it was just a natural thing. Something subtle. Was that a common thing among elves? Perhaps it was, but he found himself too distracted to actually recall any other elves he’d ever seen as Lup, with a triumphant smile, lifted two pencils from her bag and began to settle back in her seat. She stopped short as she looked up and made eye contact with Sildar, who realized with a sudden start that he’d been watching for far longer than was socially appropriate.

Still he couldn’t look away, now more out of embarrassment that he’d been caught than curious fascination. He sat frozen in shock as Lup did a double take, his own pencil that he’d been nervously twirling suspended precariously between his fingers. A blank expression replaced her smile as Lup stared back and, after a moment, she raised an eyebrow in a challenging sort of way. Embarrassment heated his face and melted the icy shock, and with a start he dropped his pencil and finally looked away to catch it before it rolled off his desk.

Staring down, he chastised himself for being so rude even as he struggled not to look the twins’ way again, just to be sure that Lup wasn’t still staring icy daggers in his direction. He caved after a few moments and, with great relief, found that she’d gone back to minding her own business, and he followed suit, the fire in his face dying down a bit. That wasn’t at all how he meant his first interaction with one of his crew mates to go, but he could fix it. He’d make it work. He had promised he would. Davenport had trusted him enough to give him a spot on this crew and he would not make his friend regret that decision. There would be no regret on his part, either.

Which is why on that fourth day, when he finally had the opportunity to introduce himself to the whole crew at their very first briefing, he volunteered to do so first, only stuttering once or twice as he stood and explained his role and his excitement at the prospect of what awaited the group over the months to come. The stuttering was embarrassing sure, but he was nervous. Who wouldn’t be? He was determined not to wallow in that embarrassment nor regret his efforts.

Not even when he heard someone snicker as he sat back down.

Instead, he chose to believe that it was his imagination, a product of his lifelong self consciousness. Don’t give in to it, he told himself. No regrets. That became the mantra during moments when he felt out of place, when he worried that a comment here or there was made at his expense, when all of the relative group of strangers seemed to be bonding with everyone but himself. No regrets, no regrets, no regrets.

It was a relatively simple rule to follow; his feelings were not easily hurt, never had been, so as long as he was trying his best, what was there to regret? Not everyone was meant to get along, right? At least he found comfort in Lucretia who, despite being much younger, reminded him very much of himself with her soft spoken nature, thirst for knowledge, and dedication to her craft.

“What led you to chronicling for a living?” he had asked her one day while they ate in the busy IPRE cafeteria.

“I am annoyingly detailed and have really nice handwriting no matter which hand I write with.” Lucretia answered, giggling at her own joke. “Actually,” she continued, “that first part is relevant. I’m fascinated by stories, I always have been. And while other storytellers are able to come up with their own plots using their brilliant imaginations, I have no such gift. Mine lie in my ability to question and dig until I have every tiny piece of the larger puzzle.” She smiled then. “I suppose the ambidextrousness doesn’t hurt with that either. Writing with both hands at the same time helps a lot when taking down stories from other people or my own observations.”

“I’m sure it does,” Sildar replied. “That’s quite a skill to have.”

“This is my first time as an official chronicler, though,” she told him. “It’s so exciting!”

It was nice seeing her enthusiasm for the task before her. From what Sildar had seen, Lucretia was incredibly knowledgeable and at times he forgot how young she was, how young the majority of their group was. Things like this reminded him. No wonder it was difficult for him to engage with them; he was such an old man.

No regrets.

“It is, indeed,” he answered, matching her enthusiasm with a smile.

They then slipped into a more or less comfortable silence as they continued eating, Sildar people-watching between bites and Lucretia occasionally pausing to scribble something down in a little yellow notebook. He thought to ask whether it was work-related or for her own amusement, but lost his nerve when Lup and Taako slid into seats on opposite sides of Lucretia and Magnus plopped himself into the one directly next to him. Sildar jumped a little, startled at the surprisingly quiet appearance of the young man; Magnus was a pretty big guy and didn’t seem all that capable of being sneaky.

Lup and Lucretia acknowledged each other with a smile as Magnus squirmed in his seat and hunkered over the tray of food that he’d brought with him, anticipation clear in his face. “Holy shit, I’m hungry.”

“We know,” Taako said with a raised eyebrow as Magnus stuffed his face. “You haven’t stopped talking about it for ten minutes.”

Magnus seemed unbothered by Taako’s quip, his expression unchanging as he spoke again around a mouthful of food. “How is this so awesome? Cafeteria food has never been good.”

“It’s decent,” Taako replied as if that was as gracious as he was willing to be. Still, Sildar noted, the bite he took seemed to cause him no dissatisfaction. “I’m glad you’re so easily pleased. I guess I won’t have to worry about you hating whatever I make when we’re all stuck on a ship together.”

“Which you won’t,” Lup, across from Sildar, chimed in. “His food’s amazing.”

“Oh, for real?” Magnus asked excitedly.

Lup grinned and nodded as Taako took a bite of his own food.

“It’s alright,” he simpered with a vaguely nonchalant shrug, at least making an attempt to be modest about his skills.

“You should cook for all of us sometime!” Magnus suggested. “I mean, before we take off. It would be awesome!”

“You mean, like, a bonding thing?” Lup giggled.

“Yeah!”

“I’m a busy guy, my dude,” Taako answered. He took another bite before continuing “But maybe if you made it worth my while…”

Magnus cocked his head. “What, like pay you?” he chuckled.

Taako shrugged again. “Might help a little.”

“Ah bummer, I’m broke. Guess I’ll just have to wait!”

Sildar smiled to himself. Apparently nothing, not even a mild attempt at extortion by a crew mate, ever dampened Magnus’s amiable nature.

“It’s a good idea though, Magnus,” he interjected, turning to face the boy, “maybe we could do something similar.”

All four others at the table looked his way, all indicating some amount of surprise that he’d spoken. Magnus took it in stride anyway.

“Oh yeah, nice S-...man, that would be cool.”

Magnus had forgotten his name. To be fair, it wasn’t exactly a common one, so he decided not to hold it against him.

“Well isn’t that interesting,” Taako snickered. “I didn’t think you were the kind to like team building exercises, Bluejeans.”

“Bluejeans,” Lup snorted as an embarrassed heat filled Sildar’s face and he ducked his head to stare down at his own denim-covered lap. “He does wear a lot of jeans!”

“They’re good for lab work,” Sildar insisted,unsure why he was put in a position to defend his choice in wardrobe to Taako of all people, who on occasion looked like he got dressed in the dark.

Lup wiped a tear out of her eye as her laughter subsided. “Bluejeans,” she tittered.

That was the beginning of that other story. Alliteration, repetition, and an unfortunate misprint on a very important, classified document that somebody somehow got a hold of assured that, by the end of it, Sildar Hallwinter, accomplished and distinguished scientist, became widely known solely as Barry Bluejeans, scientist and resident joke.

But a name is just a name and jokes are just...well, jokes, which stung occasionally despite the lack of malice intended behind them. But Barry Bluejeans knew who he was, and he had a job to perform and a promise to uphold, so he chanted his mantra as the next few months passed by.

No regrets.

“Nerd alert!”

No regrets.

Despite his dedication, he might not have made the promise at all had he known what was coming. When the Starblaster finally took off and the Hunger came to destroy everything and set the seven of them on a constant race against time and a force they didn’t understand, there definitely were regrets. How could there not be? He and the others were lost; they had no home. They were terrified. They were alone.

Except they weren’t; the seven relative strangers banded together because they didn’t have a choice. Even Barry, who was used to being alone, stuck with the rest instead of pulling away, despite the teasing that continued, to his dismay. But even that changed as cycles passed and the group dynamic changed from that of a group of coworkers to close friends to something else, something all of them felt needed no definition. Home to them became wherever the seven of them landed with the Starblaster. Slowly but surely, they all felt it eventually, but Davenport had perhaps been the first to notice.

“This is a hell of a ship we have,” he told Barry once in an earlier cycle, maybe 7 or 8, as the pair crawled around the engine room, inspecting every bit of it.

“It’s been good to us,” Barry replied as he bent to check the calibration of one of the monitors. “It’s weirdly more spacious than what we originally needed. And it’s held up way longer than it needed to. Although maybe that has something to do with regeneration…”

“Well, she runs on love, so it makes sense.”

“Wha-ow!” Barry exclaimed as he hit his head on a counter ledge, distracted by the gnome’s statement. “It runs on bonds, Davenport, that’s what we designed it for,” he told him, rubbing his head.

“Is that not the same thing?”

“No, of course not. Love is an idea, you can’t touch it,” he reasoned. “You couldn’t harness it for power.”

“Hmm, you say that, but we’ve done crazier things. We used the Light for all sorts of things, when we first discovered it” Davenport countered thoughtfully.

Barry stared at his captain and friend but said nothing else, sure that it was useless to get into a debate about the science of love. After a moment, the pain in his head subsided and he moved on to the next monitor.

“You know,” Davenport spoke again, “sometimes, when we’re all together, I hear her humming.”

Barry chuckled in disbelief. “You hear her humming.”

“You don’t think it does?”

“Ships make noises, sometimes,” he answered, sure that Davenport had lost it.

“It sounds silly, I know,” Davenport assured him, “and maybe it is. But it’s a comforting thought to me that the ship that I helped build to run on the bonds between my crew might have learned to feel what I’ve come to feel.”

This gave him pause. Barry was aware that Davenport cared about all of the; his actions proved that to be true. But assuming it and hearing it were two different things, and hearing that his feelings went as far as love…

Barry had spent much of his life alone, but he hadn’t really been lonely. He had his work and he had colleagues, and it was hard to feel lonely when you don’t feel that you’re missing anything. But with the way his life had changed, how all their lives had changed, he knew how it felt to not be lonely, and how it felt to connect with others, to care about them. How it felt to be cared about.

Embarrassingly, he sniffled and found it hard to see the monitor he stared at with tears in his eyes.

Once he let himself love, he found it easy to do. It turned out that he was pretty good at it, almost as if he was made just to love those six people he’d been thrown together with, and that love became the force that drove his actions and the decisions he made. It surprised him sometimes, just how much love he had to give and the different forms that that love took, but the most surprising and most life-altering turned out to be his love for Lup.

Being in love with Lup felt as natural as breathing, and although he felt no small amount of guilt for it, he found that he couldn’t stop. He managed to keep the guilt at bay with the promise that he wouldn’t let his feelings be anyone’s concern but his own, but his propensity to think with his heart was bound to cause him to break that promise eventually.

And it did. As it turned out, you can’t spend a year pretending to be married to someone you’re in love with and not slip up. Thinking with his heart was what led him to that mistake, and it was also what led him to put an end to it.

He’d been alone before, but he’d never felt lonelier than when Lup closed the lab door behind her.

“Once upon a time…”

“Shhh.”

“Once upon a-”

“No.”

“A long time ago in a fantasy galaxy far-”

“Oh my god Lup, please,” Taako whined, voice cracking as it had done often lately. “I’m tired!”

“Aw, but I’m bored,” Lup whined back as she peered at her brother through the darkness of the tent, deciding not to call him out for the embarrassing pitch his voice had reached. This time.

“Well you wouldn’t be if you were sleeping,” he argued. “You know they’re gonna wake us up early tomorrow and then you’ll complain that you’re too tired, but it’ll be your own fault and you’re gonna come crying to me and I’ll just say I told you so-”

“Alright, alright, fine. But you gotta listen tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay yeah, sure, now go to sleep.”

In response, Lup blew a raspberry. Then Taako did too, which set off a raspberry fight that was only interrupted by the sound of someone in a tent not far off hollering “Shut up!”. Both did immediately, as neither of them wanted to get in any sort of trouble and get themselves kicked out of the troupe.

Once upon a time, that was how it was.

Once upon a time, before the Hunger, before the discovery of the Light and the seven on the Starblaster, before a $15 bill was stolen by Greg Grimaldis, there was just Lup and Taako and a troupe of caravans travelling nowhere in particular.

They were a little young for it, even by elven standards, and travelling troupes of entertainers and hustlers didn’t tend to let preteens join their ranks as a general rule, but the twins learned to ingratiate themselves by proving their worth in the only way they knew how: being excellent cooks who’d work for nothing at all but the relative safety of numbers. Lup and Taako were pretty independent and used to relying on each other, but even they knew they couldn’t fend for themselves completely. Awesome as they were, they were just kids and had a lot to learn. But damn it if they weren’t trying, and so far, they’d both gotten just good enough at transmutation magic for it to mean something to them, and that was why they were doing what they were doing.

Technically, this wasn’t the path that they had to take; they had plenty of other options as far as living arrangements. A godparent here, a great uncle there, a grandma on somebody’s side, an older cousin three times removed-you name a distant relative, they had it, and they’d been passed around to half of them at least. But none of those places had ever been their choice. True, they hadn’t been all bad. There was that Aunt Pen they really liked; she was the first person they were ever sent to live with. She taught them how to cook, she encouraged their interest in magic and even scrounged up a few books for them, even though she had no magical abilities herself. They were fast learners though, and could do a lot with a little. In fact, at that point their powers combined gave them the ability to go from identical to fraternal twins soon after Lup chose her name. It was a pretty good deal.

But their time with Aunt Pen didn’t last forever, and their relative-hopping over the next few years was exhausting and the instability left little room for learning magic. And if a future in magic was what they wanted, which it for sure was, they definitely weren’t going to reach their goals that way. So they made a choice and just didn’t go to the next place they were sent off to. For the first time, they were calling the shots, and Lup thought that was damn cool.

“Thinking about switching to evocation,” she told Taako one day as they were cleaning up after lunch one day.

Taako rinsed the suds off a dish and handed it to her to dry. “Why’s that?” he asked.

“Uh, well for one it’s wicked awesome,” she answered. “And two, we probably would have a better chance of both getting into whatever academy we wanted if we had different skills to offer.”

“Cool, I like it,” he said, elbowing her in the arm gently. “Look at you being smart.”

“I mean I for sure am, but I can’t take all the credit for this one. I was talking to Leftie and he kinda gave me the idea.”

“Remind me who that is again?” he asked, not seeming at all concerned about actually knowing the answer.

“You know,” she coaxed, “the juggler.”

“Which juggler?”

“Oh my god, Taako, the one that only has a left arm, duh!”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “‘Scuse me if I can’t keep track of all the jugglers I’ve ever met.”

“There’s been like, three.”

“Hmm...well, point stands.”

Lup and Taako were pretty good at cooking and magic, but the thing they were pros at was ghosting everyone they knew. They figured that if they were gonna be sent packing at a moment’s notice, there was really no reason to get that attached to people around them, so they just learned not to. At some point along the way, Taako chose not to make much effort with anyone ever, but Lup found that boring. No, instead she just didn’t get attached, kept the people she met at quite a few arm lengths, and that was good enough. Worked every time, and it left them both with very little to distract them from learning as much magic as they could by themselves. Time, patience, and dedication turned them into powerful wizards in their own right, and they had very little issue getting accepted into their chosen magic academy, and an even easier time excelling in their classes. They destroyed absolutely all of their peers, not that they were keeping track of that type of thing.

Except they totally were and they definitely did.

It was more or less confirmed when they were called to the academy headmaster’s office the day before they graduated.

“What’s this about?” Taako asked after pleasantries were exchanged, a tinge of worry in his voice that gave away the uncaring expression he wore.

“We’re not in trouble are we?” Lup asked, already on the defensive. “Look, if this is about what I said to Greg Grimaldis, he started this whole thing and I only threatened him a little and if he would just-”

“Please, Miss Lup, you aren’t in trouble,” Headmaster Mathers said, holding up a hand. “Well, now I’m not sure...what is this issue with Greg Grimaldis?”

“Literally nothing,” Taako replied quickly, cutting Lup off before she could get going about the whole thing again and throwing her a look.

“Yeah, it’s so not a big deal,” she echoed Taako before forcing a smile and facing Mathers again. “Sorry, continue.”

Mathers looked like he wasn’t sure whether to pursue the issue or save himself the headache. “Not a problem,” he replied, clearly deciding to go with the latter choice. “What I was calling you here for was to offer you an opportunity.” If you’re interested, that is.”

“What kind of opportunity?” Taako asked as Lup leaned forward excitedly.

Mathers grinned. “Have either of you heard of the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration?”

They had not, but it didn’t take much convincing before they were practically begging for a recommendation that Mathers had already been ready to give them. Who wouldn’t want to be involved in a historical mission to space? And after a couple of months of interviews and an application later, they found themselves in an entirely different office.

“I must say, it’s very good to be able to officially welcome you both to the IPRE,” a gnome with an incredibly cool mustache named Davenport told them, shaking first Lup’s hand, then Taako’s.

“Thanks,” Taako replied amiably, “we’re excited to be here.”

“For sure!” Lup agreed. She glanced at a clock on Davenport’s wall. “Um, we’re supposed to be heading to our first class right now…”

“Oh, yes, I know, and trust me, your instructor will not mind if you’re a few minutes late. But I’ll make this quick anyway so as not to take up too much of your time.”

He gestured for them to sit in the two seats on one side of his desk as he sat in the chair on the opposite side, and they wordlessly complied.

“I’m sure you have done your due diligence and done some amount of research on our institution and the mission at hand, but not all of the details have been made public yet, so I wanted to fill you in.”

Taako and Lup listened as Davenport leaned back in his seat and explained the Light and the Starblaster. When he started to explain the bond engine, he paused and leaned forward again.

“I’m curious.”

Lup cocked her head as Taako asked “About what?”

“I have spoken at length with your academy’s headmaster. Mathers speaks very highly of the both of you, to be sure, and it is obvious to me that you are both more than qualified for the job at hand.”

“But?” Lup supplied.

Davenport smiled. “Just as you have done your due diligence, I have also done mine. You see, I have a ship that, amazingly, runs on bonds. You’ll learn more about that over the next few months, but the gist of it is that it is powered by connections. Connections between things and, most importantly, individuals. Personally, I find this to be the most exciting aspect of this entire project, but I also realize that it could be daunting for others.”

Lup was unsure where this was going, and neither did Taako it seemed, as both stayed silent as Davenport continued.

“I don’t pretend to know anything about either of you other than your resumes and what Mathers reported. And I don’t need to know any more than that to trust in your capabilities, so I wouldn’t dare be so invasive as to ask. Instead, I will just say this: we could all learn from a ship that’s powered by the connections between others, and I encourage the both of you to let yourselves learn whatever you are meant to.”

Lup was entirely unsure what to say to that, and both she and Taako stared unblinking at Davenport as the gnome stood from his chair and glanced at the clock on the wall.

“I’ve kept you both long enough,” he said as he walked to the door and held it open for them. “Enjoy your class!”

The twins filed out and watched as the door swung closed. When it clicked shut, Taako chuckled wryly.

“What a weird dude,” he said. “Think his crazy mustache just holds all the secrets of the universe.”

Lup ran a hand through her hair. “Yikes.”

“Yikes,” Taako repeated with a sigh. “Didn’t think I’d need a ‘play nice with the other kids’ speech at this age.”

“I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

“No, I heard what he meant. Not sure how I’m supposed to just…”

She looked at Taako as he trailed off, his stony expression indicating he didn’t know how to comfortably finish the thought. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

“Hey, let’s get to class!”

As they raced off, Lup replayed Davenport’s words and decided that the guy was just trying to make sure his mission ran smoothly. They didn’t need to worry themselves over it; he wasn’t really asking for much. If they had to play nice and put themselves out there just a little, that wouldn’t kill them. Plus, this was a short term thing, it wasn’t forever!

She paid no attention to the faces that looked their way as she and Taako burst through the classroom door and easily found two open seats. Beside her, Taako lounged in her chair while she looked through her bag to find their favorite pencils.

It was only day one; there was no reason to freak out over anything yet. If all the people involved in this whole thing were as cool as her and Taako, they’d have no problem getting along.

She pulled two pencils out and looked up to see a guy with round glasses and a mullet looking at her. He looked shocked to see her looking back, like he’d been caught doing something weird. What the fuck’s his problem she thought as she gave him a hard stare until he whipped to face the front, dropping his pencil in the process.

Alright, so maybe she wouldn’t be great friends with that guy.

As the months progressed, it became pretty clear that, while their little group wasn’t as cool as she and her brother were, they were all at least...interesting. Lup liked Magnus and Lucretia for sure. Merle seemed to like plants a lot which might have been disturbing if it wasn’t so entertaining to see it freak other people out. Davenport was pretty chill when he wasn’t dispensing wisdom. And then there was the mullet guy, Sal...Sil…

“Barry Bluejeans.”

Barry Bluejeans.

Barry Bluejeans wasn’t a weirdo, he was just a really big nerd. She and Taako got a kick out of that, and they found that, even if they didn’t want to be lifelong best friends with these people, they enjoyed their company enough to hang around them for as long as the mission would last.

They started to feel differently when everything went horrifically sideways.

“We should just leave,” Taako suggested one day while they were translating the Animal’s language into Common.

“And go where, Taako?” Lup challenged. “There’s nowhere to go! We don’t know what’s out there.”

“So? That never stopped us before.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “I guess that’s true.”

“We don’t need them. It’s safer if it’s just us. I got your back and you got mine. Like always.”

Lup noted the fear that she hardly ever saw in her brother’s face. “Like always, Ko. We’ll leave as soon as we finish translating this and get Magnus an in with the Royal Beasts or whatever. We can’t leave this all to Barry.”

“Fair enough,” he answered, some relief in his voice.

The plan fell apart when the Hunger came again and they were regenerated. It seemed much more dangerous to leave and a lot more awkward if they were just gonna wind up back on a ship with five people they ditched. They weren’t that callous, but neither could shake the feeling of needing to go, for it to be just the two of them once again.

Sometimes, change happens gradually, and other times it happens all at once. In cycle 3, they went exploring for a day and didn’t think to mention it to anyone else. Taako sprained his ankle slipping on a stone while trying to cross a stream, and they didn’t make it back until early morning. When they were within sight of the Starblaster, Lucretia came running out to meet them.

“Taako, Lup!” she cried, “where were you? Are you alright?” She moved to Taako’s other side and supported his weight.

“I’m all good,” Taako replied, perplexed. “Just twisted my ankle.”

Lup leaned forward to look at Lucretia from the other side of Taako. “What’s the panic for?”

“I’m-we didn’t know-you were just gone, and they all left, so I’m here by myself w-waiting and worried that-”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Lup and Taako eyes went wide as she pulled them both in to hug them fiercely.

“I am so happy you’re back,” she whispered with a sniff.

In Taako’s room later that night, after Merle bandaged up Taako and treated a few minor scrapes that Lup insisted she didn’t need anything for and everyone else had expressed their relief at having them back, the twins sat on his bed in silence. After a while, Lup noticed Taako’s eyes were closed, and got up to leave.

“They’re all not so bad,” Taako said softly just before she opened the door.

She turned around and found him staring up at the ceiling. “I think so too,” she replied.

“I’m thinking about making Elderflower macarons tomorrow,” he said.

Lup smiled, suddenly feeling warm and cozy. Taako hadn’t made those cookies for a long time.

Not since Aunt Pen.

“I’ll help you,” she promised.

Lup had always thought she had no room in her life to love anyone else but Taako, but she quickly learned how wrong she had been. She found herself loving the shit out of Magnus and Lucretia, Merle and his love for plants, Davenport and his wisdom.

And that big nerd Barry Bluejeans.

Barry Bluejeans, who was actually a great friend. Her best friend, with his glasses and his mullet and his jeans and his cute little blush and-

Her crush on Barry was never supposed to last. And it wasn’t supposed to get stronger.

It wasn’t supposed to ruin their relationship completely.

When her dumb idea to pretened to be married to her best friend just as an excuse to get what she wanted and she made him uncomfortable as a result, she felt rejected and guilty. As the lab door slid closed behind her, she could only think of one thing to do.

Lup had never found it hard to ghost people. It’s what she and Taako had always done. And she managed to avoid Barry for the rest of that cycle.

And it hurt more than she could have ever imagined.

#blupjeans #the adventure zone #barry bluejeans #lup #taz balance #all the time in the world #barry x lup #lup x barry

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piccolina-mina · 5 years

Text

Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am?

Fandom: Roswell, New Mexico

Characters: Rosa Ortecho, Alex Manes

A/N: I’m late, but it’s still yesterday somewhere! I don’t quite know what this is, and it’s angstier than I imagined, but you know me, I wing it.

This is for you, @suzteel! A little something for a very special person on her special day. Love & Hugs. Always. :)

—–

“The coast is clear, kid.” Alex tossed Rosa the keys to his truck and smirked at her scowl over the term of endearment.

She snatched the keys out of the air and climbed into the driver’s seat with ease. She stopped herself from telling him to move his ass.

He was more gracious than anyone when it came to her faux pas as she struggled to adjust to how different the world was around her now.

She never had to censor herself with him. They both were blunt and without filters, and it was one of the reasons she didn’t mind when he used to tag along behind her when he was a kid, or she was a kid, or they were kids, or something.

He was like the little brother she never wanted, but now, now she didn’t know how to see him. But of all the things she had to adjust to, he felt the most familiar and comfortable.

Emo rights or some shit. And even though the man she was cruising with wasn’t the same as the teen she knew before she was killed, he was still in there, somewhere.

“Stop calling me ‘kid.’ I don’t care what I look like, I’m still older than you,” she hissed.

It felt good to squeeze the steering wheel, let her dark hair whip around her as they picked up speed, nothing but desert ahead of them and Fall Out Boy blaring.

“Someone needs to tell Liz that too,” she bit at her thumb even though her nails were bitten down to the nubs. “She keeps mothering me.”

“In her defense, you do look 12,"Alex deadpanned.

"Fuck you,” she mumbled. She rolled her eyes when he chuckled low and deep.

She used to love his hearty laugh and big smile, and she hadn’t seen or heard either since she … returned. He was always haunted, but this time, it was for deeper reasons, and she didn’t know what to do with any of that.

Her thumbnail went to her mouth again. Ten years of being frozen in time meant she still had an oral fixation she couldn’t quit. She didn’t smoke. She stopped, but she needed …

She took her eyes off the road for a moment when she heard the rustling beside her. Alex had a candy bag in hand. He yanked out a couple of suckers, popped one in his mouth and handed her the other.

The sweet and tartness on her tongue triggered memories, but more importantly, it put her at ease.

“I’m told it helps,” he said stealing a look in her direction. She could feel him studying her intensely.

He always had a way of peering through a person, and somehow that skill was enhanced with time and age.

They sailed pass a billboard advertising legal aid specializing in immigration law. Her vision clouded over, dark specks belying her anger, and she internally counted backwards to ground herself.

“That persimmon pendejo is president, the planet is self-destructing … I come back from the dead, and it’s worse than hell,” she sighed.

She bit down on the sucker and tried to assuage the ball of anxiety bubbling up. She worried about her papi, and it was made worse by the fact that she couldn’t lay eyes on him.

She felt Alex studying her again, his intense gaze burning the side of her face until she couldn’t take it anymore.

She replayed the last few moments in hopes of pinpointing what set him off again. Then, “I didn’t go to hell,” she said quietly.

The small exhalation he let out was the only sign he gave her that it was his concern. She stole a glance his way.

His expression was as stoic as ever, but as usual, his eyes gave him away. He was terrified, but also relieved.

It was something they never spoke about in great detail, but it was something she knew he wondered about.

He didn’t speak of his own ghosts, but she sensed them the second she wrapped him into her arms again. He was haunted, whatever had taken place in the decade since she last saw him – war, loss – it weighed heavily on him.

“The last thing I remember is her – him, –it..” she squinted at the sun, busied herself snagging a pair of his sunglasses from the cupholder and shoving them on.

If she shielded her face she wouldn’t feel so exposed under his scrutiny.

“No worries, kid,” she tried to lighten the mood and mock him with the endearment. “If there is an afterlife, I don’t remember a second of it. I guess I haven’t paid for my sins yet,” she shrugged.

“So I can’t give you solace if you’re afraid about paying for yours.” She knew she struck a nerve when his eyes darted away.

“My sins are darker than yours, squirt.”

She let the attempt to get under her skin go.

“You’re a good person, cabron. I have known you your entire,” she shook her head and swore under her breath. “I have known you for most of your life. You’re one of the best people I’ve known. War or whatever else you’ve gotten yourself into over the past few years doesn’t change that. I know your heart, bro. ”

“Bro?” He scoffed. It was a misdirect as he choked back the emotion that rose in his throat.

She didn’t respond, merely pulled over at one of her favorite spots. There were a different set of caves, and they always brought her peace or something akin to it.

It was different than what she remembered. Everything was different than she remembered.

“I thought when I was gone things would be better.” She reached across the seat snagging another sucker and popped it in her mouth.

“I mean, I didn’t plan on,” she felt his dark eyes boring into her face again searching, always searching. “I planned on leaving, before I died, I planned on leaving.”

“I thought that when I was gone things would be better for the people I care about. But even my death caused more harm for those who gave a shit, and even in my absence things fell apart,” she picked at her nail and stared off into the distance, the wind making flyaway hair dance within her line of sight.

“I would have at least hoped my death mattered. That if I had to die, at least it meant something, but catching up on everything has taught me that it was meaningless.”

She tossed the half-eaten sucker out the window. It no longer gave her the satisfaction it did before.

“Liz still came back to this place. She should have stayed away, but she came back, and look at what she’s in? All I wanted is for her to be free of this place, and she’s right back here heart deep in alien shit.”

“She did get away, Rosa,” Alex reached out and tentatively touched her hand.

“She traveled. She completed her list. She went to school and pursued the career she wanted,” he rested his head on the back of the seat, and it was the most relaxed he looked in a while.

“Maria didn’t get to follow her dreams. She wanted out of here, and now it’s ten years later, and she’s still stuck behind a bar trying to make ends meet and taking care of Mimi. Christ, there’s nothing fair about that.”

“Life happens, Rosa,” Alex sighed. Whether he was unfazed or resigned, she couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, I know. And death,” she closed her eyes and turned her face up toward the sun.

“My papi could be put in a damn cage like an animal at any moment, and my birth father is dead. So many questions left unanswered.”

“I still can’t believe you and Kyle are related,” Alex chuckled. “It actually makes sense now though.”

“I’m being serious here and you’re deflecting with jokes? Typical. And Kyle and I are nothing alike.”

“He was an asshole in high school. It’s true, but he’s a good man. You should try getting to know your big-little brother better.”

“You used to be my favorite and now I’m reconsidering my position on that,” she shoved him, and he laughed like he did when he was young, gangly, and unburdened.

“Easy there, Valenti.” It earned him another shove until they both were laughing.

“That was easy. I’m saving the real hurting for the Valenti with a dick. I swear if he brings me another teen magazine, I’m going to gauge his eyes out.”

“See? You’re acting like siblings already. You have obnoxious little sister in the bag.”

“First of all, it’s big sister. Second, you and Kyle can kiss my ass,” she said it with heat, but Alex’s bemused expression made her smirk against her better judgment.

“Kyle is, annoyingly perfect, but it’s going to take a while. It’s going to take longer if he treats me like one of his teen patients.”

“Yeah, that has more to do with Kyle than you, I promise.”

“I would thank you for being the only one who isn’t treating me differently, or like a child, but I would hate for it to go to your head.”

He flashed her one of the first genuine smiles she saw since she reunited with him. “Too late, Rosa. I already know I’m your favorite.”

The laughter in his eyes warmed her heart. Alex was so guarded with everyone else. They didn’t think she picked up on these things, but she did.

“And then there’s you. Finding out you enlisted …”

His smile vanished as quickly as it came, and she damn near saw the walls go up. “You think I’m a poser.”

“I think you’re a survivor,” she said instantly without thought. She didn’t have to think about it because it was true.

“I just hate you had to lose pieces of yourself to prove something to that dickwad dad of yours.”

Alex averted his eyes, and suddenly he was 14 again, and Rosa was reading through him like no one else could.

“Maybe no one else will point it out, but that’s what happened. And I hate that for you. I hate that you didn’t get to follow the path you chose for yourself instead of his,” she spewed. Her heart raced with anger and guilt.

She knew the odds of her being alive wouldn’t have changed some of the outcomes, but she was just enough of a masochist to think maybe if she were around she could have.

Her eyes flickered to his. Both sets glassy with unshed tears and emotion they withheld as if their lives depended on it.

Maybe both of them realized a long time ago that sometimes their lives did.

“But I’m living proof it’s never too late to find yourself. I’m getting a second chance I never expected to…” she released a puff of air and grabbed Alex’s chin.

It was strong and firm, the stubble prickled her skin, and it was a far cry from the last time she had done it.

“I still see him in there. The darkness you’re afraid has consumed you, it hasn’t beaten him out. Remember? That’s a strong ass guy who could take a beating. And now he can kick ass too.” Her sly grin made him return one in kind.

“He’s still there, just stronger and older. And you gotta stop hiding him away. I’m not the only one who was resurrected. That part of you is trying to come back too. Let him. You’ll be much happier with it.”

He sniffled, swallowing back emotions again, and she raised her brow but didn’t say anything.

“Are you done, obi-wan kenobi?”

“God, you’re still on that Star Wars shit?” She snorted. “See? Still a dork.”

“This is why I love you more than your brother,” he joked.

“Fair,” she quipped. “But I’m serious Alex.”

He sighed. “I know. All the things you could do now, and you’re trying to fix me?”

“Well, you’re not irrevocably broken, just a little lost,” she tangled her fingers with his. “We both are.”

“I can’t fix any of the other shit with Liz, or my father, or Maria and Mimi, but your shit can be fixed, and I can help you. I’m not afraid of the dark, and we both need to find the light.”

He snorted at her cheesiness, but accepted it for what it was. For the first time in years, he felt seen again.“We do like that dark shit.”

“Damn right we do.”

She hooked her pinky with his and had a flashback to warm summer nights painting each other’s nails black and listening to the latest obscure band.

She wouldn’t mention the occasional bruise blooming on skin hidden away, and he wouldn’t comment on how twitchy she was for her next fix, but the camaraderie in those moments sustained them.

He popped his sucker in his mouth and smiled at the gesture. She imagined he was recalling those nights too.

“You’re good at that,” she nodded at the sugary treat in his mouth. “Lotta practice over the years?” She asked suggestively.

She was pleased with herself when his face went red and he nearly choked.

“You’re as bad as Maria and twice as crude,” he sputtered.

“Some things never change then,” she started the truck back up. “You don’t have to tell me now. You can tell me when we get there.”

“Um, get where?” He stiffened in his seat and narrowed his eyes sensing she was up to no good.“ Get where, Rosa?”

She tossed her bag into his lap and shot him a mischievous grin. It grew wider when he swore profusely as he pulled out the assortment of spray cans.

Her fingers were itching to create something, and it felt like forever since she tagged something, made art, left pieces of herself she had control over somewhere – left the mark she wanted and not the one chosen for her.

For her, it was a release she had been craving, but for him it would be a walk down memory lane to the days when he would occasionally play look out.

“So what do you say, Sergeant?” Her voice took a conspiratorial tone. “Are you in or are you going to chicken out on me?”

His face was unreadable for a moment, but then there was that familiar light in his eyes.

“Fuck it. Why not?”

She threw her head back and laughed, and he turned the music up as they sped down the highway.

#roswell new mexico #rosa ortecho #alex manes #roswell new mexico fic #happy birthday chica all I got you was this little fic but I still hope you like it #:)#and I have some work to do at half past midnight. yikes!

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thunder-the-ranger-wolf · 4 years

Text

Possible Excerpt from Had Enough: The Dreamsight Remix

Summary, the tag to follow

The next shop was Flourish and Blotts, where Harry would get his school books. On the list were The Standard Book of Spells, A History of Magic, Magical Theory, A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Magical Drafts and Potions, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.

He knew nothing about these books or the authors. Maybe he should have paid more attention to his dreams because he knew there was something about Fantastic Beasts that helped him and his friends later on.

There were far too many books for him to go through in one day, so Harry was hoping McGonagall had a good idea of where to go. He would definitely be coming back to get more books that weren’t on this list but he’d start with these.

Harry paid for the books on the list and a few of the others that Jaime, Jack, and Amelia had picked up. McGonagall had a few books of her own that were accidentally lumped in with his. After they realized, he said that she could pay him back later if she felt like she had to. It made no sense to split up a purchase like this when they were all here for similar things and were all going to the same place next. He didn’t see the big deal she was making of it, but he also might have been missing something. Maybe it’s because he has his own money now.

The next shop was for potions supplies. Hary would need a cauldron and a set of scales to weigh ingredients and apparently a telescope. McGonagall was very no-nonsense and by-the-book about the purchases despite the awe that he felt seeing all these tools. He and Jamie made lists of everything they could come back for the next time they visited this place. McGonagall agreed on that because it would have to be another six times, one for each year.

The Apothecary reeked like rotten eggs and cabbage went bad, Harry’s dreams lied about that. Barrels almost Harry’s height stood against the wall, some of them caked in slimy goop that he wasn’t too keen on touching. Jars of shriveled herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the windows. Feathers bundled, wicked fangs, and snarled claws were strung up and dangled from the ceiling. Harry wasn’t sure what exactly he’d need for potions, but the surprisingly young man behind the counter seemed to expect McGonagall, so he and Jaime were free to roam around the shop and keep a listening ear out for whatever sounded most interesting. Harry would definitely be looking out during Potions. If the magical world was anything like the science teacher said chemistry was, something was bound to explode if he didn't know what he was doing.

After the apothecary came time for a wand. Harry and Jaime laughed when that came up and whipped their arms about.

“Abracadabra!” Harry shouted.

“Alakazam!” Jaime parried.

Professor McGonagall hissed and something smothered Harry’s mouth seconds later.

“Do not ever say that word!” McGonagall insisted sharply.

“But it’s just a silly trick!” Harry scoffed beneath her hand. She shook his head from side to side before lifting her hand.

“Say again?” She ordered frostily.

“It’s a silly trick. Nothing happens if you say it. To people who don’t think magic is real, it’s just sounds strung together.”

“Well, it’s not here.”

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” Amelia offered warily. “And I would very much like it if you never struck my nephew again.”

“What did you think I said?” Harry asked, coming to a realization.

“Avada Kedavra is the killing curse. If a Magician is powerful enough, it can be done without a wand. Its intended target receives an instant, painless death.”

“That’s not what I said,” He confirmed. “Similar language,” because of course it was, he almost can’t believe this! “but lacking a syllable and different vowels and consonants. I’ll keep it in mind, though. Wouldn’t want to accidentally kill someone for annoying me.” He joked.

“No, Mr. Potter.” Professor McGonagall informed him sternly. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Jaime, stick with Harry and McGonagall, your father and I are going to have a look around, see if we missed anything and maybe get you some food. You can handle the wand part, can’t you?”

Jaime looked at his mother, eyebrows scrunched before he nodded and slung an arm around Harry.

“C’mon, Wolf, let’s go get that magic wand. I wonder if there’s anything else you’re not allowed to say around here.”

“The store is Ollivander’s.” McGonagall hurried off after Harry and Jaime and it took a lot for Harry to walk away from the Alfers. He had no clue why the Alfers sent them away or what Amelia was so upset about. Harry had committed a faux-pas here. It was only right that he was corrected.

Jaime shook his head when Harry voiced his thoughts.

“Teachers don’t put hands on their students. That stopped a few years ago and most of Britain isn’t too keen on bringing it back.”

This was all so weird that Harry figured it was best to just go along for now. It was stupid to be so upset over getting hit when he’d very obviously done something wrong and was getting corrected. What if someone’s life had actually been in danger from my words?

“We’re here,” McGonagall said stiffly.

The shop before them was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that McGonagall sat on to wait. The place had an air of silence about it similar to a very strict library. Jaime let out a noise of surprise and he instantly shushed him. Stunned by his own actions, Harry didn’t speak again.

There was so much to do with wands that Harry wasn’t sure where to start. Would Ollivander answer all his questions? Did he even know how to?

Harry shook his head to clear it and looked around instead. Each wand was nestled in soft velvet jewelry boxes, the type that would hold a necklace the long way.

The strict feeling intensified, to the point where shivers jolted up Harry’s spine and he clutched Jaime’s arm.

“Good afternoon.”

Surprisingly, Jaime was the one who jumped. Harry’s feet remained rooted to the floor, though he still clung to his new cousin.

Twin orbs glittered through the darkness and the closer the person stepped, the more of themselves they revealed.

“Hello,” Harry murmured awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said Ollivander. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter."

Goodness, it would take forever to get used to people automatically knowing his name.

“Wolf,” He responded on reflex. “If you don’t mind too much.”

“Of course not, dear boy. Names, somewhat like wands, are chosen and shed. If a name no longer fits the person it belongs to, much like a wand, it can be exchanged for a new one.”

“How do you know when it’s time to change?” Harry wondered. “What if a name, or a wand, is forced on you?”

“Well, well, well, cunning little magician you are. Wands are a bit more obvious when they no longer fit, but, much like a name… sometimes you just know, Wolf. I want you to keep that in mind as you accomplish your goal today.”

“Fair enough.” Harry offered warily. He doubted that the same wand dream-Harry got would fit now, but he could only hope. Having the same wand core was all that got him through his dreams. Without that protection, that luck… well. Harry was already hopeless in the real world. He didn’t want to die anytime soon.

"You have your mother's eyes,” Ollivander said conversationally as he rifled through a stack of wands on the counter nearest to him. “It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”

It’s good to hear something nice about Lily Potter. Harry didn’t remember much about her that isn’t skewed by someone else’s view. Apparently, she’s good with charms. Maybe Professor Flitwick would know something about her.

“Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration.”

Ollivander got closer as he said this, and within seconds Harry could see his face reflected in the man’s off-white moon-like eyes. Ollivander reached a long unkempt finger towards Harry’s forehead and Jaime jerked Harry back before he could actually reach it. Ollivander paid no mind to the offense and Harry nudged Jaime’s arm.

Play nice! He mouthed to his new cousin.

“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that sealed your fate, young one,” Ollivander said softly, breath barely above a whisper. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very much so, and in the right hands, it could have been great. If I’d known what that wand would go on to do, I’d have denied the owner, first thing.”

“Yew is poisonous,” Harry found myself saying. “And if the wand chooses the Magician, then how could you hold it back?”

Ollivander’s eyes glittered knowingly.

“You are going to do great at Hogwarts, young one. Especially once we find your wand. Now, which is your dominant hand?”

Harry held out his right arm and Jaine stepped back. The boys watched as the wand-maker pulled out a long tape measure with silver markings from his pocket. He proceeded to measure from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and around Harry’s head. He explained the makeup of wands as he continued to measure.

“Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another Magician’s wand.”

Just like in the dream, somewhere along the way the tape-measure had lifted from Ollivander’s hands and continued to measure Harry on its own. He was surprised Jaime was so quiet about this since it was taking all Harry’s strength to be perfectly still as the tape measure did its work. Mr. Ollivander appeared in front of him with four stacks of small slim boxes.

“That will do,” He said, and the tape measure crumpled to the floor like a puppet whose strings were suddenly cut. Before Harry could ask how the tape-measure did that without an incantation, he was handed a long smooth light grey stick.

“Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”

Remembering how McGonagall had freaked out when Harry said a fake curse, he decided to keep silent as he flicked the wand. True to the dreams, Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost immediately and gave him another one.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy.”

This time Harry actually waved his hand as if he were saying hello to someone. Nothing happened with this wand either, but Olivander seemed to need it for something because he hesitated with that one.

“What are you doing?” Harry wondered as he twitched the wand between his fingers.

“Testing this one.”

“What is there to test? The wand didn’t work.”

“You reacted to the phoenix feather more than the maple, but not so much as you would with your true wand.” Ollivander informed Harry as he evaluated the wand he’d just taken back.

“I said before that no two wand cores are alike because no two magical substances are alike. But I can tell if you react to the magical core or the wood more strongly and narrow it down from there.”

“So even though the phoenix might not be my wand’s phoenix, you can see that I’ll need a phoenix feather for the core of my wand.”

Exactly, young one.” Ollivander crowed as he put the wand back in its box. “But just to be sure, we’ll test out a few more.”

A few more turned out to be about a hundred, or so it felt, and with each wand that seemed to be a dud, Harry found himself questioning his worth more. All the things that had happened in Harry’s dreams were extraordinary. He couldn’t imagine even seeing a three-headed dog, much less getting past one. The thought of getting on a broom scared him beyond belief, trolls would be at the school and he already knew he wasn’t capable of saving anyone because all the magic he’d been able to do involved talking to one snake, changing objects, and getting away from Dudley. There was no way the wand that chose Harry in the dream would match him now. If any wand chose him at all.

“What happens if none of the wands here fit me?” Harry wondered, feeling small.

“There are other wand-makers, though not many, that I could consult to have you fitted. You are not the first tricky customer I’ve had and you won’t be the last.” Ollivander assured Harry.

“Look at it this way, Wolf,” Jaime said suddenly. “You’ve got magic, that’s for sure. You have a bank account in a magic mall and you can make coins appear in a bag.”

“That’s stuff the Potters set up when-. When I was born, probably. It would work on any child they had.”

“A non-magical child would not get a letter for Hogwarts,” McGonagall informed us sternly. “Your mother comes from an Assiduan family and she got a letter. Her sister, Petunia, did not. You belong in the Magical World, Mr. Potter.”

“Wolf,” Harry said quickly, almost speaking over her. “I… I don’t like being called by my name,” He admitted. “Everyone who says it acts like I’m some bug they want to crush under their shoe. Except the Alfers and Mrs. Figg. But they don’t mind calling me Wolf either.”

“If that’s truly how you feel about your own name, then it’s no wonder the letter wrote out that moniker.”

“Holly and phoenix feather,” Ollivander cut in suddenly, handing Harry a pale green wand that sparkled red when hit by a patch of sunlight.

“You did say I’d need a phoenix feather.” Harry offered, knowing that this was the wand from the dream.

“Go on, give it a wave.” Ollivander encouraged.

Please, please, if I ever do anything right in this world, let it start here.

Harry raised the wand above his head and brought it down in a fierce arc. A blaze of red and gold sparks followed. They shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light onto the walls.

“And indeed, you do!” Ollivander whooped eagerly. “It is… rather curious, though, young one.” He offered soberly as he took the wand back and wrapped its box in packaging paper.

“What is?” Harry asked with a knowing sense of dread. He hoped the wand-maker was about to say what he thought…

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, young one.” He began slowly. “Every single one. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand only ever gave two feathers. It is extremely curious, young one, that this wand chose you when its brother… dear young one, its brother gave you that scar.”

Harry swallowed loudly, knowing that this was what he expected to heat but somehow, coming from people in this world, it made the news more real.

“Yew is poisonous.” The younger boy choked out. “I guess only a strong rare magical substance could make its home there.”

“That is… almost true, young one. The magical substances are all powerful enough to temper the damaging properties of the woods we use to make our wands. In fact, I’d say they temper each other. But since yew is very poisonous, not many wands can be crafted from it. You are a very insightful young student, Wolf. I look forward to great things from you.”

Harry exhaled shakily, more thrown by this experience than he would like to admit.

“How much do I owe you?” He prompted.

“Seven Galleons, young one. They’re gold and the largest.”

Harry shook the Gringotts key from around his neck and pressed it to the pouch he’d been given.

“Seven Galleons.” He croaked out, hoping the magic wouldn’t fail him now.

He felt the bag grow heavier and shook the coins into Ollivander’s hand.

“Thank you,” Harry said. “for helping me today.”

“Of course, young one, the honor is mine.”

Jaime had to lead Harry around after that. Harry was too busy trying to process the day. Nothing that anyone said reached his ears, something he vowed to change once he settled into Hogwarts. He couldn’t afford to be as unaware as he was. Harry survived in the dreams because he was observant, in his own way. He had to at least get something from those.

McGonagall led the Alfers back home with the same portkey she’d used to bring them to Diagon Alley. After a few cups of tea where McGonagall told the Alfers what to expect on the first day and how to get to Hogwarts, the older woman was gone.

Ameilia, Jack, and Jaime all turned to Harry.

“What do you want to do now?” Jack asked softly.

Harry wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. He needed to think. He needed to figure out how much of this was real and when he would wake up.

He could admit to the first part, at least.

“I’m going up to my room,” Harry said. “ I need to think about all this.”

#had enough: the dreamsight remix #harry potter #hp fanfic

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random-imagines-blog · 5 years

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Bang! Bang! {Jeremy Renner x reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 1789 Synopsis: After realizing that you and Jeremy might be lonely, Robert sets you two up on a blind date.

Jeremy had placed himself at one of the more private booths towards the back of the cafe, with a mug of coffee set in front of him. His eyes were on the door, and he wasn’t sure what he was expecting to come from this. A blind date - is he crazy? But Robert had a convincing charm about him that made him agree to it - something about how the only girl he ever talked about was his daughter, and his friends had worried about him being lonely. Because of being a busy, divorced, single father, he didn’t have much time to meet people on his own and Robert had suggested that this was the best way. Both you and he agreed to it and here he was, waiting for the person with a tell-tale black hat to walk in and make their way towards where he was sitting.

You did walk in, and Jeremy instantly found himself staring at you. Aside from a very rare few, he rarely found himself starstruck and yet when he saw you smile at him before going up to the barista to order your drink, all thoughts escaped his mind and he became a mess. To try and tear his gaze away from you for a second, and in an attempt to look casual, he raised the coffee mug to his lips and took a large drink. Too large in fact - for it spilt down his chin, missed his shirt thankfully, and dripped down onto his pant leg. You were still talking to the barista and didn’t notice this, but he still felt immensely embarrassed. He took some napkins from the silver container on the table and laid them down, hoping they would soak up the coffee before he got up to greet you.

Three minutes later, armed with a coffee of your own, you started to head towards where Jeremy was sitting. It took him that long to realize that he should have gotten up when he first saw you, and offered to pay for your drink, but he had been nearly drooling like a fool. There was just enough time for him to wipe off what moisture was left, then stand up to greet you, finally. Years had gone by in his life, almost fifty in fact, and he had never felt time go so fast yet so slow as he had in that moment that you were walking towards him. You smiled and held out your hand to meet his, while he went in for a near hug, standing quite close to you. For a second there, he felt like an absolute creep because he found himself sniffing at your hair. You hadn’t seemed to noticed, but giggled as you both shook hands. But you were in a rush to sit down and set your coffee on the table before it spilt, so he didn’t get as much of a feel for you as he had wanted to. If he felt any more flustered, it might even show on his cheeks.

You sat down in the booth first, and he slid into his own side, slightly after. Disgruntled, he realized that he had just brushed against the spilled coffee once more, but now it would wet the back of his pants. To his surprise, when you started to introduce yourself, saying your name, he found it easier to focus on that than his own misfortune. You brightened up the whole place by just saying your name.

Jeremy introduced himself shortly after, then realized that you probably already knew - but he didn’t like to assume. “Y/N, it’s very nice to meet you.” He said, leaning in, rapt with attention at anything that you would say. You were exactly his ideal type, it was as if you had stepped out of his dreams. You weren’t a perfect human being, and he wasn’t expecting you to be, but even the little flaws like the crinkles around your eyes and any little scars that he could see, just added onto you rather than took anything away.

You, prompted by Jeremy, started to talk about the work that you do, and his coffee went forgotten because he didn’t want anything else to take his attention away. But eventually, you asked about him, and he bashfully spoke about being a part of the MCU and how it’s opened so many opportunities to him. “Y/N, I gotta ask, who is your favorite Avenger?”

Robert had told him to ask this question as a joke, but here he was, his mind blank and the most wonderful way possible, grasping at straws on what to say to keep you here. It seemed to go over well, because you laughed at the question and finished off your coffee. “He asked you to ask me that, didn’t he?” You laughed. He grew even more curious. “He’d ask, of course he would. Then I might as well tell you - I’ve liked Hawk-Eye since Thor.” You admitted, which made him grin.

On that note, he decided to venture a little further. “This place has great sandwiches, you hungry?” He asked. After a minute of looking at the large menu boards behind the counter, you agreed to that. “I’ll get em,” He offered. “What do you want?”

“Jeremy, I have legs,” You said, getting up from the booth and stretched a little. When you did, your shirt rose up a little, exposing a strip of midriff. The sight of it made Jeremy rub his mouth and chin, then reluctantly, get up from the booth to join you.

“There, we can both go,” Jeremy teased, joining your side. You walked together to the counter, and ordered some food, then waited around for it to be finished so you could sit back down. Especially because it was awkward for him to keep looking at you when you’re next to him, it was much easier when you were across.

“You have a daughter, I heard?” You asked. “And yes, I did sort of grill Robert into telling me things about you.”

“Ava, yeah.” His mood lightened up even more, he didn’t think that it was possible. They were quite the pair - he always loved to be close to his daughter. “They all love when I bring her to set - though she’s a daddy’s girl, she won’t let go of my hand.” He gushed. You smiled listening to that, and pushed your hair behind your ear. Though kids could be a dealbreaker for a lot of women, you still seemed interested. He was counting his lucky stars at this point.

“Ava, that’s a gorgeous name.” You told him. “Of course she’s a daddy’s girl, who wouldn’t be if their dad was like you?” What was to come was something that Jeremy never imagined someone saying on a first date. You actually opened your mouth and said, 'I hope I get to meet her.’

“And I hope you get to, too.” Jeremy said, taken aback. Though he supposed that you were on this blind date for the same reason that he was - he was getting older and he didn’t want to waste time dating around. Jeremy wanted to get married again, although his first marriage had ended in shambles.

“Jeremy?” The person behind the counter said, reading out the name that was on the sandwich order. Jeremy jumped forward and took both plates before you could help and took them over to the booth, acting the part of a gentleman throughout. It wasn’t until he picked up his sandwich and took the first bite that he realized he actually had stumbled over his order and got the wrong thing, he was so pre-occupied with looking at you. New feelings were occurring within his heart, so he might as well start eating a new thing today as well, even if it wasn’t exactly what he had wanted. The food wasn’t that bad, but he was extra cautious of how he was eating, trying not to get crumbs everywhere. Yeah, right.

“Are you always this charming, or am I just lucky?” You asked, leaning forward to brush some crumbs off of his shirt. Jeremy laughed at himself rather than got embarrassed. He just shook his head at his own messiness.

“How did you know all of this is for you?” He joked. “How’s your sandwich?”

“Delicious,” You said, eating it a lot more cleanly than he was. “It’s very good, a little spicy but I can handle it.”

“I finally reached the medium tier of salsa myself,” Jeremy said, making you laugh again. A joke seemed to go a long way, but he did have some serious things to say. He cleared his throat and pushed his plate to the side. You looked down at your plate, and he wanted to distract you from something so mundane. He wanted to see your eyes again. “Do you want to hear an End Game spoiler?” He said, knowing that usually got him some attention. That did make you raise your head up.

“Only if you promise you won’t get in trouble for the big reveal.” You said, smiling at him.

“You gotta promise not to tell anyone. And it’s serious so...” Putting his elbow on the table, making an etiquette faux pas, he held his pinky out in your direction. You chuckled, and linked your finger with his, reminding you of grade school. It was very binding though. “Okay - you ready? My character, Clint Barton-” He looked around dramatically to see if anyone was listening in. “-has a mohawk.”

“Now how am I supposed to keep that juicy morsel to myself?” You asked, acting surprised. He laughed, holding his head on the palm of his hand, gazing at you.

“You’re stunning,” He said, taking a confident leap in complimenting you. He was nervous that it might have come across too strong, but he was pleased when he saw that you were close to blushing at the compliment. Optimism was paying off.

“Thank you - you’re not so bad yourself,” You said back, playfully. God - how he thought about kissing you when he saw the way that your lips looked just slightly parted. He was infatuated. He couldn’t take the smile off of his face.

“Can I see you again, sometime?” He asked you. You nodded and kept smiling.

His heart wasn’t just beating in his chest anymore. It was going off like a rapid-fire machine gun at this point.

Bang bang.

#Jeremy Renner #Jeremy Renner x reader #Jeremy Renner oneshot #Celebrity #Celebrity oneshots #oneshot #oneshots #request #jeremyr

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majirocksoff · 5 years

Link

Majima breaks Kiryu out of prison; now with alt backstories. Majima x Kiryu / Kiryu x Nishiki (implied) Takes place during Y1. (Longfic, 70k words+)

His name is One-Thousand-And-Five.

Yesterday he was someone else, had been given, with the manners of a machine and the politeness of policy, the name, Mr. One-Thousand-And-Six.

Tomorrow he will be someone else again, at the ringing of the perfunctory bell that divorces one day from another: Mr. One-Thousand-And-Four.

In between the going-aways and the coming-tos, he collects names like dust. He goes to the chow hall, and he becomes Wait Your Turn; in going to the yard he becomes Thirty Minutes More. At the shower he gains a uniquely ephemeral identity: Batch-Two-Quickly-Now. He goes in, let the water scald off his skin, be reborn in water burning so hot it strips him red. Coming out shiny like a cooked lobster, he can wear a new identity for the rest of the night: The Dogshit of Dojima.

— —

In his prison cell he is nothing, his action is waiting.

Waiting is not inaction, this is the second thing you learn in prison.

Before prison you have assumptions, and the assumption is that waiting is just something that happens while the rest of your life is unraveling, becoming, acquainting itself to happenstance; fusing itself, in chemical reaction to coincidence, so that events may soon happen. You are always about to do something while you are waiting: buy groceries, run errands, break someone’s neck. Waiting is anticipation, a pre-meditated murder of time.

You were wrong, you know that now. Waiting is action, this is what you learn in prison.

It is an action that must be actively done. You fold yourself as small as possible into diamond-shaped patterns in the privacy of your cell (waiting is not done in public, it is sacred). You may sit cross-legged or seiza, stand on ceremony or leaning coolly, curled up in your bed with an arm tucked behind your head. Sucking your thumb, if you must.

Your exterior does not matter when you’re waiting, what matters is your interior, which must be shrunk. You shrink yourself inside, small-small as possible, until you can be turned around and poured out, and out-plop comes your soul and it won’t fill even a leaky thimble. You do this by stripping identities out of yourself.

Once upon a time you might have wanted to be great, for example, to follow in the footsteps of Kazama-san, to trace yourself in his shadow.

You take this desire and you erase it, line by line from the top, beginning first from the greatest concept then extending to everything else. You first forget the sentence whole; then you dismiss in inches and angry nights everything else: Kazama-san, the concept of greatness, the idea of footsteps, the desire of wanting, an entity of ‘you’, the stretching of time, once of the past, until at last you can be left alone with nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Then you wait.

— —

The first thing you learn in prison, is that you have no identity.

You’re given an ID the moment you step in, and you think philosophical thoughts: ah, is this what I shall be? You were wrong, of course, because a series of number is an identity, and that identity is more solid than what you’ll eventually end up with.

Your identity becomes the days you have left, because 8-1-5-7-6 rankles your ears and bedevils your patience. At roll call, they put existential fear into you: will you be here for eighty thousand days, each by minutes longer than the last? You cannot. You fear. Your soul trembles and weep. You cast it off and take a new name: Mr. Three-thousand-six-hundred, all ten years to be waited tattooed on you; it is a long time but it can be waited. In contrast eighty thousand is forever.

When you take on the others it becomes easier; take them on in the secret corners of the prison where lips can split, skulls can break, nails torn one by one out of grasping flesh. There are many corners where the guards don’t see, willfully blind, and here you can be beaten by anyone: your seniors, your juniors, your hitmen, your old friends, your new enemies. Gradually in blood you extract from them new names:

The Dogshit of Dojima, that fucking backstabbing cunt, the lil Tojo shit, why ya staring, asswankcuntsucker, goddamned cocksucker, oi fuck off, are-ya-happy-now-ya-murdering-cunt, and so on.

They’re fine names; at least they don’t have numbers.

— —

The man with the one eye comes and instantly breaks every rule. He is an earthquake: in his presence you must obey new rules, run for high ground, cower in clear spaces.

He comes, swinging his hips like a new officer, twirling his hands holding an invisible bat, eating with his lips a pop song five years too new for you. He peels back the skin of the cell the moment he arrives. He overturns containers. He looks into the toilet, opens up the flusher, cracks open the sink to examine the deep sadness of the hole in the middle. He takes out his sheets, folds it messily so that he can lay in it like a well fucked boy.

All this you see, his cell is right opposite yours.

“Yo,” He says. He puts his legs up in a cross, carefully, making space for the steel tips he must have worn once. He straightens the eyepatch he was allowed (they had tried taking it from him, but realized too late it was too much a part of him, it would have killed him).

“What’s yer name?”

You are surprised. It is a terrible question, a faux pas, an abhorrent question never asked in prison. How could he, how dare he?

A name? He wants a name? But you don’t have a name, you’re a condemned spirit. You’ve worked hard to get this far. The Japanese dream: work so hard you don’t know who you are. Once you had a name, and it’d laid discarded in a laundry pile. You wait for him to understand how rude he’s been and go away.

“Oi ya deaf? Ya want me to go over there and beat it out of ya?”

There’s three feet of corridor and two sets of bars separating you, and you see that he means it.

You lick your cracked, chapped lips, tried hard to recall…

“My… Name?”

“Just my luck,” He swore. “I’m roomed with a fuckin’ idiot. Your name! Your name! Are ya daft?”

He needs to be patient. Names are the first thing to go, and the last thing to be replaced. He doesn’t know what he’s asking, demanding a name. Oh, the weeks to come, wracked in the throes of identity. Does he not know? Does he not care, how much this hurt, to recall a name?

Reluctantly, slowly (time itself is slow here) it is said.

“My name is… Kazuma. Kiryu. Kazuma, Kiryu, Kazuma. Yes, that’s my name.”

Oh, he says, mouth perfect on an O. The Dragon of Dojima? That Kazuma-fucking-Kiryu? That you? The Dragon of Dojima? The fucking Dragon of Dojima?

“Hell yeah! Always wanted to fight me a dragon! Sit tight in that cell, dragonshit, because I’m comin’ for ya Kiryu-chan!”

— —

Majima Goro was introduced to him in bits of nerve, bones, and tissues.

Kiryu goes as far away from him as he can. Now that he has identity it is not so easy to walk the hallways of the prison; it clings to him like bits of plastic wrap, tight and suffocating, each piece determined to make themselves be remembered. Every nook and cranny and day and night that once he’d lived as a young man of Kamurocho, clamored to be the one to dice his anonymity to pieces. He will not be forgotten, he cannot forget, not if they have any say about it.

In the manner of Majima’s walking and the dance of his fingers on the cutlery he sees the glittering manner of a younger Kamurocho, a visitor, a stranger, here to tell him: time has passed, but not enough time yet so that you can see it firsthand. Time is here to visit. The outside world has been let in, poured angry but fearsome into his cells.

The rattling of Majima’s bars replaces his roll call, his silent private mornings.

“Hey,” He screams (he is always screaming, he has no other verb). “Hey Kiryu-chan! Wake up, I’m bored!”

At night he rattles them like chains, screaming again: “Tell me a bedtime story, Kiryu-chan! Hey? Ya ignorin’ me? I can’t sleep, why don’t ya stay awake too? We could play imaginary shogi, how 'bout that?”

He is gyoku; the king that has come to sweep all of Kiryu’s neat, patiently-allocated time away and replaced it with himself, loud and trying, rolling over all the hallways into the secret corners where he is allowed to beat up Kiryu.

The first time he does this he shatters bone, broke clean through in one piercing fist Kiryu’s entire cheekbone, part of his jaw. Lovingly Majima brought him to the sink and tended his wounds; he tended him five times, smashing Kiryu up-down-up-down onto the metal until it shatters Kiryu’s nerves, it was so loud, and the metal had caught him in the ear. Majima left him tended, tender, tenderized, lying in a pool of blood leaving him rapidly for the freedom of the drains. The water, slow and warm now, cascading over him, lights bright and disorienting, the smell of soap mixed with the secrets of prison bathrooms.

He is made to realize he is fuhyo; a low mere degraded pawn. Like a pawn he could only move forwards, could not retreat, could then only be pushed into Majima’s arms, holding him in a chokehold over metal plates of curry and rice.

“Ya not such hot shit, Dragon of Dojima,” Majima tells him, whispering in his ear. “Ya just plain shit. I’m so disappointed. Ya disappointin’ me here, with your lousy ass performance. Kiryu-chan, ya need to shape up. Ya the best entertainment I’ve got around here and you’re so. goddamned. boring.”

He cracked his neck and laughed the whole time Kiryu goes down.

Once Kiryu remembers, he would have soared with Majima in his clutches and brought him down like thunder, would have stepped on him and never realized it - ah, might have thought, it’s dirtying the soles of my shoe, the little soul of Mad Dog Majima stuck in the rubbery meat he walks on.

“Kiryu-chan!” The hound howls. “Kiryu-Kazuma-chan! Come on, let’s play imaginary shogi! Are ya mad I beat ya? Or are ya mad that I beat ya up? Don’t be such a princess, Kiryu-chan! Let’s play, let’s play, let’s play!”

The hellhound becomes a puppy at night, frolicking in the lonesome cells; his cell bounded by Kiryu’s bounded by others. Only other people don’t matter to him; only strangely, Kiryu mattered to him. Kiryu was fun, Kiryu was gokudo, Kiryu had a past. The others Majima couldn’t wake up, couldn’t ask: who are you? What did you do to end up here? They can’t answer him, all of them mute and anonymous, because most of them have worked hard to forget, and unlike Kiryu could not be brought back.

With their sad sunken eyes and closed eyelids they watch Kiryu and Majima play imaginary shogi; kei-ma leapt over kin over gin, pushing aside hisha, storming onto kaku. Who are you, Kiryu whispers one night in bravado. He pressed his head back against the cell bars, sitting with his eyes closed to better remember the shogi board. Hands folded loosely across his lap, moving invisible pieces around.

I am Kei-ma, Majima whispered. Kiryu collects this identity, examine it in the moonlight, thinks fragmented thoughts –

“Are ya an idiot, Kiryu-chan? It just looks like my name - it’s a joke! Ya stupid ass thinking it means anything?”

He grinned, laughing so hard he overturns their imaginary board; neither can remember now which pieces were where. “This prison getting to ya, you’re a goddamned old fuck now.”

— —

Trapped now in the machine of his identity, Kiryu loses his numbers. He realized this one day when he had to go down to the office, to ask with form in hand exactly how many days he had to wait; the answer came back and surprised him, he is holding less numbers than he thought he had. They had slipped through his fingers and rolled into forgotten corners when he wasn’t watching.

He is now Mr. Nine-Hundred-and-Fifty, a whole month having passed him in scorn. Those numbered days he could no longer wear; Majima had forced his identity back onto him and they won’t go on now, came on like a loose coat, baggy in the elbows. He can no longer wait, at least wait the way he used to. There is no patience to be had, with Majima strolling bored and callous into his privacy, intruding with answers, leaving with questions.

Why are you here, Majima-san, he asked - desperate to give Majima more form, more identity, to know more so that he can become less to Kiryu.

What crime did you commit? Who did you kill? How did you live?

“Wouldn’t ya like to know, Kiryu-chan? I’m bored, bored, so maybe I’ll tell ya - but ya have to beat me first.”

They dance in the yard. They have exactly six minutes before the officers come with batons and extra days, so they must be quick, trading fists until their faces are bloated with blood and torn epidermis; Kiryu dancing better now but still far from a match to Majima, so that Majima danced with him only because he had no better partners. A fallen dragon made of shit was still better than just plain shit. Majima pivots on the officer, says: it’s me, I started this.

An act of generosity. It surprises Kiryu, he doesn’t know what to say, Majima taking this sin into the confession of his records.

“I ain’t plannin’ ta stay here twenty-five years, so what’s a few months that I won’t be around for?” He bared nasty teeth at Kiryu. “I ain’t like ya. I ain’t the wallowing sort. I’ll be out before six months is up.”

Oh, Kiryu said. Glad but sad, sad and glad. He is relieved that Majima in leaving will restore him to his formless mass again; bittersweet that he loses such a strict mold. Kiryu Kazuma Kazama Nishikiyama Dojima. Things he can’t forget as long as Majima is around, rooting him, anchoring him without his permission and against his wants.

“Whoooo—”

— —

The days are slipping away so fast now that he has to seize it with both hands clenched so tight his knuckles go white. Stay, he commanded. Stay. Seizing his miserable days in his hands, he watched Majima prepare for flight. By inches and minutes and lost seconds he withdraws from Kiryu, become more and more likely to disappear during yard time and bath time and free time, to meet with associates strange and shapeless huddling in the other yard.

Lined up against theirs but separated by a fence is the small-timers, the low-hitters, the off-ballers, little people who won’t be doing more than six months in the most deprived luxuries, off-site beside them, counting less than one-hundred-eighty-days.

It is these people that Majima meets, forehead-to-forehead like lovers, whispering convoluted plans calculated like algebra. When they hide, when they bother to hide, Majima scratches at the fence with loose-tipped fingers, plucking the fence like a guitar, plucking tunes at his associates until they come: unwilling but bowed by Majima’s boys who’d sequestered themselves in the smaller prison.

Where is — He demanded.

What is —

How shall —

How does the flight mechanism work? How does Kiryu find out? He finds out in nerves; Majima sometimes, sidling up to him, having the nerve to ask: I have a question. Where is the control room for —

Kiryu frowning, turning away, saying go, go I don’t know, don’t trouble me, I’ve never seen, I couldn’t possibly know, I never meant to go, never meant to leave, this prison is for me, nine-hundred-days only left to be. Majima beating him with his fists until he lay shivering and nurturing wounds on the ground, beating his identity into him.

Tell me what you see, Majima demanded.

“Kiryu-chan, don’t ya lie to me. I’ve been watchin’ ya watchin’ and ya know it. Ya just don’t know that you know it. Well, that’s what I’m for. I’m going to beat your piece of shit memory into your head.” He seized Kiryu by the collar, lift him up so that he could be closer to the sun, shaking him over and over again.

“Tell me! Where is it? You know where it is!”

Come, Kiryu told him, spitting out blood. Led him to the dark places in the prison where things can be seen, push him into corners angled right, take him away from plans angled wrong. You’re not doing this right, he told Majima. This control room is patrolled all the time, six-at-a-go, it’s a no-go, a no-show, what you want, really want, is this other place. You won’t know it unless you’ve been like me; a man without identity, they don’t let anyone see if they’ve got eyes. The crow-pig comes and pluck out your eye, one on each side, if they see you waiting to watch.

“I get it,” Majima said. “Thanks.”

More, “Hey, ya wanna come with—”

No, he said, he only had nine hundred more to go, it didn’t mean anything to him. All he wants is for Majima to leave, and quickly - so that he can once more be subsumed by anonymity.

— —

In bits and pieces he watch Majima assembled his plan; in his patience Kiryu had learned to see everything, and in so seeing saw that his plan would work before Majima himself knows it. Majima shrunk and wrapped himself in ignorance until the plan itself is executed. He goes with the flow, himself. Doesn’t need to have foresight. He’ll work it until it works, even if he fails this time. They waited calm and nerveless in their cells for the escape that will come soon.

“It’ll work,” Kiryu told him sleepily. Tomorrow, he’s thinking. This will be their last game of imaginary shogi, so he slipped: slipped the golden knife in and ate Majima’s king whole.

“Damn, ya good, Kiryu-chan. Ya totally wreck me this time.”

“Thank you for teaching me how to play.”

“Teach ya? Kiryu-chan, ya always knew how to play. Don’t ya know? Don’t ya remember? You could do anything you wanted - that’s why you were the dragon. All I did was make ya remember.”

Oh, he doesn’t remember anymore; all he’d wanted to was forget. Tomorrow when Majima is gone, he’ll go back to forgetting again. Reverse-engineering an onion, putting back layer by layer his thin skin to cover the sound of the silence inside. Eight-hundred-something more days to be lived. The days had leapt from his hands but he’ll have them back under rein again. When Majima is unleashed.

“Good luck, Majima-san,” He said.

“Thanks, Kiryu-chan. Couldn’t have done this without ya,” Majima said.

— —

He comes awake, frightened by the silence.

Kiryu sat in the dark and listened: there were no sounds. Not just the greater sounds of the outside world: cameras that had stopped working, alarms silenced and napping, doors grinding to a halt in mid-air. There is silence in him everywhere that frightens him - he can no longer hear the sound of forgetfulness, he’s forgotten how to forget…

A knife pressed itself tightly to his jugular, nicked him not because it’d miscalculated. Its owner was just sadistic, wanted him to bleed, wanted to see the sheen of a dragon’s blood.

“Kiryu-chan.” whispered Majima. “Ya coming with me.”

“No,” He gasped. “No.” He wanted to stay, was terrified by the outer world.

“I ain’t givin’ ya a choice. Ya coming with me, whether ya like it or no. Ya my present to that fucking Nishikiyama cunt.”

He pushed his knife in. Hissed orders at Kiryu until reluctantly, Kiryu unfolded himself and groped with seeking hands in the darkness. At length he found the thread of the plan, and began to follow it as it unraveled in the darkness of the prison, its silvery length glowing with hope. They walked down the halls quiet and empty illuminated by the shining spool. Somewhere somehow Majima had secreted all the officers away.

The inmates lined row by row in their rat-holes to watch them, trapped in their cell that wouldn’t open. When they realized what had happened, they howled like hell itself - unfair! unfair! unfair! - and hands scratched, brushed, rend at them from all sides. The inmates will drag them down to the pits if they could only reach…

Outside.

Air the same but different; they’re on the other side of the fence now. There is a motorcycle waiting, a snakeskin jacket, a small tanto and a helmet. A set of clothes prepared by someone who thought Kiryu was as big as he’d seen Kiryu last. Untrue, he has shrunk now, made skinny by the weak broth of prison.

“Put on the helmet,” Majima said. There was only one.

“Don’t you—”

“I can’t fuckin’ see with a black glass on, asshole. Vision strictly 10/20. 'sides,” He smiles. “That skull of yours worth ten of mine, isn’t it?”

Kiryu knew nothing; there was too much not being said. He climbed onto the motorcycle, clamped loose hands around Majima’s middle, and then they flew, across snowy landscapes into the cold and a freedom he never wanted but had received.

#kazumaji #majima #majima goro #yakuza #fanfic #ryu ga gotoku #kiryu kaz

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etlunainmorte · 5 years

Text

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

***

It was the happiest moment of my life. The moment we spoke our vows, the promise of our unending love, the feeling when he slipped the ring on my finger, and that time when we kissed,…

… it was as if the universe conspired to make everything perfect for the two of us as husband and wife.

But, that was a year ago. Despite our efforts, we could not help but be crestfallen for the thing we desired the most but could not gain - offspring.

We consulted every possible expert we could think of but, it seemed that it really was impossible for me to conceive. And one day, we just,… stopped trying. I knew there was something wrong with me, and I could never deny it.

But, my husband, despite this condition of mine, stayed with me and remained patient and understanding. He never gave up on me and never once left me. He gave me all the love that he could, despite the fact that I was unworthy of it to begin with.

No, he never thought of me as unworthy. Never.

Then, one day, he gave me the most wonderful gift in the world. Gifts, in the form of three very different, yet precious, little girls who stood before me that one morning during my birthday.

He called them Galatea, Andromeda, and Cassandra. They were the three sisters of fate - The Bearer of The Past, The Protector of The Present, and The Aspect of The Future. The three loyal Muses that served him and guarded him.

Despite them not being human, and also not Demonic, in nature, they do mimic everything that normal little girls do. They play, sing, dance, they ask for bedtime stories, they yearn for love. And they were the most beautiful beings in all of existence.

They were,… perfect.

From that day onward, they have become my three darling daughters who stayed with me at all times, protecting us and making us whole and happy,…

***

XVII

***

youtube

“Talk about a fine line between love and hate.

We’ve lost more than our direction of late.

Talk about a fine line between lovers and friends.

We’ve never been lovers now we’re not even friends.

In this invisible war, it seems we’re waging an invisible war.

Everyday I seem to lose you more in this invisible war.

Wounded deeply the scar is here to stay,

Opening up the little things I do or say.

You always want things to be as before.

So I make you angry and you bleed a little more.

In this invisible war, it seems we’re waging an invisible war.

Strained maneuvers keeping silent score in this invisible war.”

“Where is V?” You asked Nico for the third time that day.

Instead of saying that she didn’t know, the freckled woman sighed. “Is there something wrong, hon?” She inquired as she repaired one of Nero’s Breakers.

“Ah, nothing.” You let out with a dejected sigh.

“You sure?”

You nodded.

“Whatever you say,… ”

It was a really cold and cloudy day. Nero was snoring loudly on the sofa, Nico was doing some more Breakers for him to kill time, V was, indeed, nowhere to be found,…

… and you?

Ever since that strange encounter you had with him earlier, you couldn’t help but feel unnerved. It’s like a part of him drastically changed the moment he went back from his talk with Fleminger. You so wanted to ask him what’s bothering him, to comfort him and to offer a shoulder to lean on.

But, the fact that you just saw him got hurt with something unknown? It was like watchig a loved one suffer from the other side with bars separating them, making it impossible for one to reach the other. And it really took a toll on your sensitive emotions.

You just couldn’t stop thinking and worrying about him. And it awfully hurt not to see the usual V you have grown to admire and adore.

Silly, yes. But, you missed him so much,…

And the sad song on the radio was really not helping with your current situation, at all!

Nico noticed your behavior and cleared her throat, which successfully gained your undivided attention.

“If you’re just gonna grumble all day, then we might as well try out my new invention.”

“What’s your new invention?”

The Artisan at Arms proudly smiled and crossed her arms.

“Oh, you’ll see what I’m talkin’ about.” She gloated with a wink.

A few hours later, the two of you arrived at the farthest and most abandoned site in the city away from Fleminger’s mansion.

Nico dropped her huge rucksack on the ground and took out several pieces of unflattering clothing from it.

“What are these?” You curiously asked as she handed them to you.

“Those are special clothes made from a very durable and expandable fabric that absorbs extreme heat and pressure. I was developing it a week before this whole fiasco began.”

“And this is for me?”

“Of course!” Nico answered, crossing her arms and looking very proud. “You can’t burst out of your clothes every time you transform into that thing! We need to innovate! And we,… ” she took out a video camera from the rucksack, turned it on, and focused it at you. “… are going to test that right now.”

Staring at the woman, clueless, you muttered, “Ah, so I have to change now?”

“Of course, dummy! And make it quick!”

After scrambling to a secluded, hidden place to change, you came out wearing Nico’s invention looking like a huge walking fashion faux pas.

“Is this it?” You questioned, looking at the huge sleeves of the gray jumpsuit - like outfit that was several sizes too large for you.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Nico answered as she settled her video cam on a tripod. She took a peak at it and waved her arms. “Hey, uh, I need you to move farther away.”

You took a few steps away from Nico. “Like this?”

“Honey, I mean, further, further away. I don’t want to get disintegrated!”

“Fine,…”

You walked several feet away from Nico, trying to measure just how much the impact of your transformation would make, and when you faced her once more, she finally gave you a thumbs up.

“Okay! I need you to transform on the count of three!”

“Alright!”

“Whenever you’re ready!”

“I’ am!”

“Alright, then! ONE, TWO, THREE!”

You called the entity’s name, summoning it, and when you felt its presence, it instantly took over your body, enveloping you with that blinding light and disintegrating everything within your immediate vicinity.

“Never gets old, (Y/N).” Nico said, whistling as she captured your mind - blowing transformation on camera. “Never gets old.”

The entity hovered for a moment, waiting for a command, until Nico finally gave it.

“Alright, hon! You can go back now!”

The seven - foot creature spread its arms, enveloping itself once more with light. And after a few heart - stopping moments later, you changed back to your original form,…

… butt - naked from head to foot.

And from the moment you realized how exposed you are, you gasped in fright, covered your private parts, then hustled back to that secluded place where you’ve been before to put on clothes.

A few minutes later, you were back, horrified to see Nico laughing non - stop,…

… and the camera still recording!

“Are you really my friend, or not?!” You shrieked at the woman, not caring in the least that your movements were being documented.

“Dude, chill! I need this for documentation!”

“Of your crappy invention?!”

“Hey! It’s a - HAHA - work of - HAHA - art!”

“Ugh, SHUT UP!”

Despite your complaints, you were back to where you transformed, wearing another one of Nico’s inventions but, this time - in the form of a school uniform.

“What,… IS THIS?!” You yelled at the woman, disgusted at how extremely short the skirt was.

“Uhh, never mind that!” Nico, who was fortunate that she was far away from you and, therefore, could not be seen sweating, answered nervously. “Another round!”

You sighed, shook your hands, took a deep breath, and morphed once more into the entity.

And, once more, Nico recorded it, along with how you morphed back, and how you were naked again.

“THIS IS NOT WORKING!” You shrieked like a depressed banshee as you made your way towards your hiding place to put on clothes.

“You’re almost there!” Nico reassured you a few moments later as she recorded you once more, this time with you wearing what looked like a risqué pop idol cosplay. “Don’t worry! You look hella cute!”

“Just get on with it!”

And so, you transformed once more, went back,…

“THIS IS NOT GOING ANYWHERE!” You angrily shrieked, this time not even bothering to run away to get dressed. You just strode angrily towards Nico, who was still filming you in all your naked glory. “And why do you have to film me getting myself naked? You’re planning something, aren’t you?!”

Nico laughed nervously, her sweat instantly giving her away. “What do you mean by that?! I’m so not going to let V see this!”

“UGH!” You let your frustration out as you face palmed. Of course, she’s planning to let V see all this!

However, at the mention of the poet’s name, you heard a noise coming from somewhere not far away. Nico stopped panic explaining as soon as she saw you getting your guard up.

You swore that whoever’s watching you, they would not get out of this alive. Not when you’ve exposed yourself over and over.

You took simple, wary steps to your left.

“Hey, Nico,” you began. “I think I left something at the van.”

“What’s that?” The woman played along, knowing your plan by instinct.

“V’s jacket! I remember he told me to mend it,…”

And surely enough, the two of you heard the noise once more. It sounded like,… a squawk?

Your eyes widened. You gave Nico a subtle nod and made a quick dive behind one of the boulders.

There was a struggle, a lot of noises and curses, and a few agonizing minutes later, you finally came out, dragging a blue demonic bird by its beak.

“MHMH! MHMH! MMHHMMHH!” Griffon yelled through his muffled beak.

“Ohoho, so the little chickee really wants to be cooked in a steel pot, after all!” Nico taunted, making the bird struggle even more, to no avail.

“BRING OUT THE STEEL POT!” You madly boomed, not letting go of Griffon’s beak. “I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THIS BIRD IS BREWING UP!”

“MMMHHHMMM! NNNYYYEEERRRHHHGGG!” The bird panicked once more but, this time, he was able to let out a weak electrical current, enough for you to let him go.

“FUCK! FUCK! FFFUUUCCCKKK! I THOUGHT I’M DONE FOR!” Griffon squawked, flying just a few inches above your head. “WHAT’S YER PROBLEM, WOMAN?! YE TRYNA KILL ME BY COVERIN’ MA NOSE?!”

“Ah,…” you stuttered but, then, remembered that you wouldn’t do such a thing to him if he didn’t start anything in the first place. “YOU CAN’T BLAME ME! You know, all you need to do is ask and I’ll definitely allow you to come along,…”

“Wait, don’t tell me Chickee here knows the secret?!” Nico exclaimed, pointing at you and Griffon.

After a minute or so of explanation on how Griffon came to know your secret, Nico nodded knowingly, finally accepting the fact that the bird was now in on all your secrets from that fateful day onward.

“So, let me get this straight, Chickee knows the secret but, V doesn’t?” Nico questioned.

“Y - yeah,… ?” The bird hesitantly answered.

“WHAT’S THAT? YOU TOLD V, DIDN’T YOU?!” You yelled at the bird as you grabbed his wings.

“NO! NO! I SWEAR BY MA OWN FEATHERS! SHAKESPEARE DOESN’T KNOW A SINGLE THING! I SWEAR! I SWEAR! DON’T MURDER ME WOMAN, I BEG YOU!”

“He’s telling the truth.” You finally admitted as you let him go.

“WAIT!” Nico, who seemed to not let go of the issue just yet, stopped you. “If you’re here, then V is here, too!”

Griffon’s eyes widened. “Hehe, well,…”

“AHH!” You shrieked in embarrassment as you covered your parts and literally collapsed on the ground, feeling your body heat up.

“HAHAHA! WAHAHAHA! LOOK AT YA! WAHAHA! WAHA - !”

Now, it was Nico’s turn to grab the demonic bird by his beak.

“Keep messin’ with us, and you’ll really have to say bye bye to your pretty little Shakespeare!”

“SQUAWK!”

After a few more threats to the poor bird, you three had finally managed to settle down. You, now fully dressed and officially through with Nico’s experiments, were taking a nap, leaning against the wall inside the abandoned building. The freckled woman was putting the camera back to her rucksack,…

… and Griffon? It was safe to say that the bird has started sniffing you for some unknown reason. Your friend noticed this and called his attention.

“Hey! I know that’s a chick you’re sniffin’ there but, ya just can’t do that without V’s permission. He’ll get real mad!” Nico mumbled in a whisper to avoid waking you up.

“Ah! Haha! Well, tryna sniff some bugs out,…” Griffon nervously lied, then whispered, more to himself, “That’s weird, I can’t smell anythin’!”

“I heard that!” Nico retorted as she quickly made her way towards you and him to shelter herself from the impending rain.

“Can’t ya smell anythin’ weird about her?”

“Weird? You mean bad odor, or - ?”

“Not bad odor!” Griffon shrieked.

“Sshh!”

“Oh, sorry.”

Nico raised an eyebrow as she sat next to you and wrapped her arms around her knees for added warmth. It really was getting a bit colder.

“You’ve been actin’ weird. Especially that Shakespeare dude! Where’s V, huh? And you better start tellin’ me the truth.”

“He’s,… ah,… somewhere! Yeah, somewhere,… ”

“Really?”

“Well, I can’t really tell ya! Just know that he’s out there but, not close here, yeah?”

“Whatever.” Nico said, rolling her eyes. She pushed the rim of her red - framed glasses closer to her nose bridge and went on interrogating the bird. “And what do ya mean by that odor?”

If birds could sweat, Griffon could probably produce buckets by now. Fortunately, it was slightly hard to see through his real emotions due to his brash nature.

After all, Nico would surely suspect something if he told her that V sent him to spy on you.

And for what reason?

V actually didn’t fully believe everything that Fleminger person told him. He said to him the exact opposite of what he truly believed in, and, confused to the core he may be, he wanted to make sure if the guy was telling the truth, or not. He just couldn’t do the spying, himself, as of the moment. It just felt wrong to do it to a lady such as you.

After all, he did come to adore you despite the really short time you’ve been together. And he’s not letting anyone ruin that.

Not now when,…

So, he wanted to make sure by first sending Griffon to you. If the demonic avian failed to produce results, then he’d be the one who will do the interrogation, himself but, only as a last resort.

He would never believe that YOU were the Dreadnought, and he’s willing to prove it so that he could slap that hard truth to Fleminger’s face. Along with Shadow’s scratches to boot.

The only problem was, he didn’t know that you were hiding secrets from him, yourself. That alone was truly suspicious, and Griffon knew all that. The Demon just opted not to tell V that, for he had also learned to love you as a friend after the Malphas event. You’ve been a really good person and a protector to him, and he, like V, hoped that Fleminger was wrong about you.

“Hey!” Nico said, snapping her fingers to get Griffon’s attention.

“What?!”

“The odor? I was asking about (Y/N)’s odor.”

Ah, crap, Griffon thought. Should I let this woman know?! She’s her friend! She could easily tell whether (Y/N)’s the fuckin’ Dreadnought or not!

“Well! I, uh,…”

“Speaking of which,” Nico interrupted, much to the bird’s rotten luck. Or, was it? “… Nero has been bugging me with this non - existent apple pie he’s been sniffin’ round about three days ago. I mean, I can’t even bake. But, if it’s Kyrie then - !”

“If the pimple kid’s a Demon, then that makes total sense! I - ” Griffon blurted out without even thinking, making the woman stare at him in disbelief. He gulped audibly, his nerves getting the better of him. “Ah, oops?”

Nico raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “And what does that supposed to mean?”

“Ah, what?”

“THAT?!”

“AH! AAHH! NNRRGGHH!” Griffon squawked and started flapping his wings wildly in panic.

“HEY! I’M ONLY ASKING A QUESTION!” Nico said in an effort to make the bird calm down. “Unless,… ” she stood up and pointed a tattooed finger at him. “… YOU’RE REALLY HIDING SOMETHING FROM US!”

“WWWHHHAAAKKK! QQQUUUAAAWWW!”

Griffon was moving too much that he accidentally scratched your arm in accident.

“DUMBASS!” Nico grabbed the bird’s talons, taking them away from you. “LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”

“G - guys,… ” You muttered, finally waking up due to the noise and the sudden pain in your arm. “What’s happening?”

“It’s the chicken’s fault!” Nico shrieked, shaking the bird in annoyance.

You gave them a confused look, then glanced at the now bloody wound on your arm. You shook your head in disbelief.

“Do not be too hard on the creature. I will heal.” You tiredly responded, standing up and making your way outside despite the rain.

“Hon, it’s still raining.” Nico pleaded as she finally let Griffon go.

“It matters not.” You answered monotonously. “This body would soon perish, after all,…”

“Come again?”

It took both Nico and Griffon a few seconds to realize that your voice sounded different, the way you moved looked suspicious,…

… and your eyes seemed a different shade,…

“(Y/N), is that you?” Nico asked, wary of her own movements.

“That is the name of our vessel.” You answered, further confirming that you were taken over by the entity in a space of only a few moments right after waking up.

“Our?” Griffon added. “What do ya mean by that, sweet pea?”

“Feeble minds would never be able to comprehend the meaning of our existence. Humans and Demons alike perceived us as one.” You glanced back at them, only for them to see that you have completely changed your appearance.

To Nico and Griffon, you now looked like a tall and slender woman with beautiful dark skin and equally dark and abundant hair. Your large, mournful eyes shone brightly and looked upon them with such enigma that none of them dared to utter a word.

“We are one. However, at the same time, we are three. I’ am the Aspect of The Future.” You, or the entity, made yourself known. “I’ am here in this crucial moment to partake of a vital information from the near future.”

“Future?” Nico bravely asked whilst Griffon remained silent. “You have a prediction for us?”

The entity, or The Aspect of The Future, bowed her regal head.

“In four days time, two hearts would be ripped open, blood shall be spilled, and emotions will clash upon uneven ground. A Prince will awaken and a King shall rise. The Pale Ones would make their move and engulf the whole world in darkness. Only then would the third and final heart, the one who would regret the most, be stabbed by their own doing.”

“That sounds,… cheerful,…” Nico added sarcastically to somehow lighten the mood. She might have poked fun at you for changing into that light being who can disintegrate your clothes but, she just couldn’t make fun of this particular entity who made unfunny prophecies.

Griffon flew towards the entity before Nico could even stop him.

“You said something before about crying and kneeling, and whatever that was.” The demonic bird questioned. “What’s up with that? Another twisted plot on a fuckin’ t.v. show?!”

“My answer remains the same.” The entity answered calmly. “At the final hours of the evening and the last radiance of the wounded moon, the past will weep, the present will kneel, and the future will die.”

“The future will die?” Nico cut in. “Is that what you mean by your body perishing soon?”

But, the entity did not answer. Instead, she went past Griffon and made her way towards the woman.

“Would you weep, human?”

“Uh, it depends,…” Nico simply answered. It’s the plain truth! Why would she cry at the prophet’s death?

“You are strong and vigilant. Remain as such until the promised hour.” The entity answered, then went back towards Griffon.

“Ahh, ya have somethin’ for me?” Griffon asked.

“Remain true to your instincts.” The entity told him. “Even in the face of true danger.”

“Okay,… WHAT?!”

The entity nodded, then faced away from them, glancing at the depressing weather outside. Nico, who was curious to know more, followed suit.

“Why are you telling us all this? Isn’t the future kind of forbidden to tell? And why show yourself now? Because the world is ending and some shit?”

“And so, you believed me?”

“Well, yeah! I believed in my friend, and her power comes from you! Of course, I believe you.”

“Such innocence,…” the entity simply stated, then released a sound that sounded strangely like a chuckle. “There was a time when I was stoned by my own people for warning them of such dangers. No one believed me, and that is my eternal curse. A curse for turning away a powerful lover. He gave me this power.”

“No one’s stoning you here.” Griffon said, joining the two. “That’s just barbaric.”

“Is there a way to prevent all this bad stuff from happening?” Nico finally asked, positively itching to know the solution. Well, there must be! “Like a plan B, or somethin’?”

“There is no alternative. Everything I told you is inevitable.”

“So, that’s it, huh? All of us will fuckin’ die?” Griffon slightly yelled at the entity for being so pessimistic.

She looked at him and gave him a meaningful glance. “There is,… an alternative.”

Griffon and Nico’s eyes widened as they looked at each other in utter surprise.

“And it all depends on one.” The entity finished.

“One what?!” Both Nico and Griffon questioned, to which they were just ignored as the entity glanced back at the weather outside.

“By then, the past shall still weep but, not for long, the present shall forever kneel but, the future,… may no longer die. That is,… a nice thought. If only,…”

“If only,… ?” Nico asked in an attempt to keep the entity talking.

However, the strange creature remained silent as she watched every single drop of the rain.

“It has been,… a long time since I watched the rain.” She quietly said, her voice as gentle and calm as possible. “It is so calm, so peaceful. A fitting start to an end.”

Nico sighed. They never truly heard something positive from her other than her proposed plan B, which was still very vague, much to their distaste.

“I’m afraid I’m keeping your friend.” The entity told them. “I must go, for her strength must be replenished.”

“WAIT!”

Both the entity and Nico looked at Griffon, surprised at what he just blurted out.

“Speak, creature of the night.”

“I, ahh,…” Griffon began, unsure how to bring up the Dreadnought issue. “I just wanna know, is,… is (Y/N) an, ah, err, an,… ah, how to say this?”

“Just spit it out, Chickee!” Nico blurted out, crossing her arms once more.

“Is (Y/N) an enemy? I just wanna know.” And just like that, the words were finally out from him like removing a thorn piercing his heart.

“ENEMY?! WHAT ARE YOU - ?!”

“I see.” The entity said. All of a sudden, her body was engulfed with light, like she was catching on fire. “It entirely depends,… on the beholder.”

And with those final words, the entity vanished, leaving behind her vessel.

Your eyes were closed shut, and when you finally opened them, you were surprised to see both Nico and Griffon staring at you with open mouths.

“Did I just do something weird?” You asked them, which made them convinced that you did not remember everything that just happened.

“No!” Nico answered with a nervous laugh.

“That’s it! I just gotta tell V that she’s not an enemy, right?!” Griffon said to himself, entirely forgetting that you and Nico could totally hear him.

“What are you talking about?” You asked him.

“Ah! Nothin’ ! Gotta go!”

“Wait!”

And, just like that, the demonic bird flew away, his strange words and behavior making him even more suspicious.

***

“I will wait for as long as it takes. I only ask for one thing: don’t forget about me.”

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

#devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #i see my future before me #v x reader #v x you #chapter 17 #aspect of future #revised

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thedyingmoon · 5 years

Text

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

***

XVII

***

It was the happiest moment of my life. The moment we spoke our vows, the promise of our unending love, the feeling when he slipped the ring on my finger, and that time when we kissed,...

... it was as if the universe conspired to make everything perfect for the two of us as husband and wife.

But, that was a year ago. Despite our efforts, we could not help but be crestfallen for the thing we desired the most but could not gain - offspring.

We consulted every possible expert we could think of but, it seemed that it really was impossible for me to conceive. And one day, we just,... stopped trying. I knew there was something wrong with me, and I could never deny it.

No, he never thought of me as unworthy. Never.

Then, one day, he gave me the most wonderful gift in the world. Gifts, in the form of three very different, yet precious, little girls who stood before me that one morning during my birthday.

They were,... perfect.

From that day onward, they have become my three darling daughters who stayed with me at all times, protecting us and making us whole and happy,...

***

youtube

"Talk about a fine line between love and hate.

We've lost more than our direction of late.

Talk about a fine line between lovers and friends.

We've never been lovers now we're not even friends.

In this invisible war, it seems we're waging an invisible war.

Everyday I seem to lose you more in this invisible war.

Wounded deeply the scar is here to stay,

Opening up the little things I do or say.

You always want things to be as before.

So I make you angry and you bleed a little more.

In this invisible war, it seems we're waging an invisible war.

Strained maneuvers keeping silent score in this invisible war."

"Where is V?" You asked Nico for the third time that day.

Instead of saying that she didn't know, the freckled woman sighed. "Is there something wrong, hon?" She inquired as she repaired one of Nero's Breakers.

"Ah, nothing." You let out with a dejected sigh.

"You sure?"

You nodded.

"Whatever you say,... "

It was a really cold and cloudy day. Nero was snoring loudly on the sofa, Nico was doing some more Breakers for him to kill time, V was, indeed, nowhere to be found,...

... and you?

Ever since that strange encounter you had with him earlier, you couldn't help but feel unnerved. It's like a part of him drastically changed the moment he went back from his talk with Fleminger. You so wanted to ask him what's bothering him, to comfort him and to offer a shoulder to lean on.

You just couldn't stop thinking and worrying about him. And it awfully hurt not to see the usual V you have grown to admire and adore.

Silly, yes. But, you missed him so much,...

And the sad song on the radio was really not helping with your current situation, at all!

Nico noticed your behavior and cleared her throat, which succesfully gained your undivided attention.

"If you're just gonna grumble all day, then we might as well try out my new invention."

"What's your new invention?"

The Artisan at Arms proudly smiled and crossed her arms.

"Oh, you'll see what I'm talkin' about." She gloated with a wink.

A few hours later, the two of you arrived at the farthest and most abandoned site in the city away from Fleminger's mansion.

Nico dropped her huge rucksack on the ground and took out several pieces of unflattering clothing from it.

"What are these?" You curiously asked as she handed them to you.

"Those are special clothes made from a very durable and expandable fabric that absorbs extreme heat and pressure. I was developing it a week before this whole fiasco began."

"And this is for me?"

"Of course!" Nico answered, crossing her arms and looking very proud. "You can't burst out of your clothes every time you transform into that thing! We need to innovate! And we,... " she took out a video camera from the rucksack, turned it on, and focused it at you. "... are going to test that right now."

Staring at the woman, clueless, you muttered, "Ah, so I have to change now?"

"Of course, dummy! And make it quick!"

After scrambling to a secluded, hidden place to change, you came out wearing Nico's invention looking like a huge walking fashion faux pas.

"Is this it?" You questioned, looking at the huge sleeves of the gray jumpsuit - like outfit that was several sizes too large for you.

"Pretty much, yeah." Nico answered as she settled her video cam on a tripod. She took a peak at it and waved her arms. "Hey, uh, I need you to move farther away."

You took a few steps away from Nico. "Like this?"

"Honey, I mean, further, further away. I don't want to get disintegrated!"

"Fine,..."

You walked several feet away from Nico, trying to measure just how much the impact of your transformation would make, and when you faced her once more, she finally gave you a thumbs up.

"Okay! I need you to transform on the count of three!"

"Alright!"

"Whenever you're ready!"

"I' am!"

"Alright, then! ONE, TWO, THREE!"

You called the entity's name, summoning it, and when you felt its presence, it instantly took over your body, enveloping you with that blinding light and disintegrating everything within your immediate vicinity.

"Never gets old, (Y/N)." Nico said, whistling as she captured your mind - blowing transformation on camera. "Never gets old."

The entity hovered on the ground for a moment, waiting for a command, until Nico finally gave it.

"Alright, hon! You can go back now!"

The seven - foot creature spread its arms, enveloping itself once more with light. And after a few heart - stopping moments later, you changed back to your original form,...

... butt - naked from head to foot.

And from the moment you realized how exposed you are, you gasped in fright, covered your private parts, then hustled back to that secluded place where you've been before to put on clothes.

A few minutes later, you were back, horrified to see Nico laughing non - stop,...

... and the camera still recording!

"Are you really my friend, or not?!" You shrieked at the woman, not caring in the least that your movements were being documented.

"Dude, chill! I need this for documentation!"

"Of your crappy invention?!"

"Hey! It's a - HAHA - work of - HAHA - art!"

"Ugh, SHUT UP!"

Despite your complaints, you were back to where you transformed, wearing another one of Nico's inventions but, this time - in the form of a school uniform.

"What,... IS THIS?!" You yelled at the woman, disgusted at how extremely short the skirt was.

"Uhh, never mind that!" Nico, who was fortunate that she was far away from you and, therefore, could not be seen sweating, answered nervously. "Another round!"

You sighed, shook your hands, took a deep breath, and morphed once more into the entity.

And, once more, Nico recorded it, along with how you morphed back, and how you were naked again.

"THIS IS NOT WORKING!" You shrieked like a depressed banshee as you made your way towards your hiding place to put on clothes.

"You're almost there!" Nico reassured you a few moments later as she recorded you once more, this time with you wearing what looked like a risqué pop idol cosplay. "Don't worry! You look hella cute!"

"Just get on with it!"

And so, you transformed once more, went back,...

"THIS IS NOT GOING ANYWHERE!" You angrily shrieked, this time not even bothering to run away to get dressed. You just strode angrily towards Nico, who was still filming you in all your naked glory. "And why do you have to film me getting myself naked? You're planning something, aren't you?!"

Nico laughed nervously, her sweat instantly giving her away. "What do you mean by that?! I'm so not going to let V see this!"

"UGH!" You let your frustration out as you facepalmed. Of course, she's planning to let V see all this!

However, at the mention of the poet's name, you heard a noise coming from somewhere not far away. Nico stopped panic explaining as soon as she saw you getting your guard up.

You swore that whoever's watching you, they would not get out of this alive. Not when you've exposed yourself over and over.

You took simple, wary steps to your left.

"Hey, Nico," you began. "I think I left something at the van."

"What's that?" The woman played along, knowing your plan by instinct.

"V's jacket! I remember he told me to mend it,..."

And surely enough, the two of you heard the noise once more. It sounded like,... a squawk?

Your eyes widened. You gave Nico a subtle nod and made a quick dive behind one of the boulders.

There was a struggle, a lot of noises and curses, and a few agonizing minutes later, you finally came out, dragging a blue demonic bird by its beak.

"MHMH! MHMH! MMHHMMHH!" Griffon yelled through his muffled beak.

"Ohoho, so the little chickee really wants to be cooked in a steel pot, after all!" Nico taunted, making the bird struggle even more, to no avail.

"BRING OUT THE STEEL POT!" You madly boomed, not letting go of Griffon's beak. "I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THIS BIRD IS BREWING UP!"

"MMMHHHMMM! NNNYYYEEERRRHHHGGG!" The bird panicked once more but, this time, he was able to let out a weak electrical current, enough for you to let him go.

"FUCK! FUCK! FFFUUUCCCKKK! I THOUGHT I'M DONE FOR!" Griffon squawked, flying just a few inches above your head. "WHAT'S YER PROBLEM, WOMAN?! YE TRYNA KILL ME BY COVERIN' MA NOSE?!"

"Ah,..." you stuttered but, then, remembered that you wouldn't do such a thing to him if he didn't start anything in the first place. "YOU CAN'T BLAME ME! You know, all you need to do is ask and I'll definitely allow you to come along,..."

"Wait, don't tell me Chickee here knows the secret?!" Nico exclaimed, pointing at you and Griffon.

"So, let me get this straight, Chickee knows the secret but, V doesn't?" Nico questioned.

"Y - yeah,... ?" The bird hesitantly answered.

"WHAT'S THAT? YOU TOLD V, DIDN'T YOU?!" You yelled at the bird as you grabbed his wings.

"NO! NO! I SWEAR BY MA OWN FEATHERS! SHAKESPEARE DOESN'T KNOW A SINGLE THING! I SWEAR! I SWEAR! DON'T MURDER ME WOMAN, I BEG YOU!"

"He's telling the truth." You finally admitted as you let him go.

"WAIT!" Nico, who seemed to not let go of the issue just yet, stopped you. "If you're here, then V is here, too!"

Griffon's eyes widened. "Hehe, well,..."

"AHH!" You shrieked in embarrassment as you covered your parts and literally collapsed on the ground, feeling your body heat up.

"HAHAHA! WAHAHAHA! LOOK AT YA! WAHAHA! WAHA - !"

Now, it was Nico's turn to grab the demonic bird by his beak.

"Keep messin' with us, and you'll really have to say bye bye to your pretty little Shakespeare!"

"SQUAWK!"

After a few more threats to the poor bird, you three had finally managed to settle down. You, now fully dressed and officially through with Nico's experiments, were taking a nap, leaning against the wall inside the abandoned building. The freckled woman was putting the camera back to her rucksack,...

... and Griffon? It was safe to say that the bird has started sniffing you for some unknown reason. Your friend noticed this and called his attention.

"Hey! I know that's a chick you're sniffin' there but, ya just can't do that without V's permission. He'll get real mad!" Nico mumbled in a whisper to avoid waking you up.

"Ah! Haha! Well, tryna sniff some bugs out,..." Griffon nervously lied, then whispered, more to himself, "That's weird, I can't smell anythin'!"

"I heard that!" Nico retorted as she quickly made her way towards you and him to shelter herself from the impending rain.

"Can't ya smell anythin' weird about her?"

"Weird? You mean bad odor, or - ?"

"Not bad odor!" Griffon shrieked.

"Sshh!"

"Oh, sorry."

Nico raised an eyebrow as she sat next to you and wrapped her arms around her knees for added warmth. It really was getting a bit colder.

"You've been actin' weird. Especially that Shakespeare dude! Where's V, huh? And you better start tellin' me the truth."

"He's,... ah,... somewhere! Yeah, somewhere,... "

"Really?"

"Well, I can't really tell ya! Just know that he's out there but, not close here, yeah?"

"Whatever." Nico said, rolling her eyes. She pushed the rim of her red - framed glasses closer to her nose bridge and went on interrogating the bird. "And what do ya mean by that odor?"

If birds could sweat, Griffon could probably produce buckets by now. Fortunately, it was slightly hard to see through his real emotions due to his brash nature.

After all, Nico would surely suspect something if he told her that V sent him to spy on you.

And for what reason?

V actually didn't fully believe everything that Fleminger person told him. He said to him the exact opposite of what he truly believed in, and, confused to the core he may be, he wanted to make sure if the guy was telling the truth, or not. He just couldn't do the spying, himself, as of the moment. It just felt wrong to do it to a lady such as you.

After all, he did come to adore you despite the really short time you've been together. And he's not letting anyone ruin that.

Not now when,...

So, he wanted to make sure by first sending Griffon to you. If the demonic avian failed to produce results, then he'd be the one who will do the interrogation, himself but, only as a last resort.

He would never believe that YOU were the Dreadnought, and he's willing to prove it so that he could slap that hard truth to Fleminger's face. Along with Shadow's scratches to boot.

The only problem was, he didn't know that you were hiding secrets from him, yourself. That alone was truly suspicious, and Griffon knew all that. The Demon just opted not to tell V that, for he had also learned to love you as a friend after the Malphas event. You've been a really good person and a protector to him, and he, like V, hoped that Fleminger was wrong about you.

"Hey!" Nico said, snapping her fingers to get Griffon's attention.

"What?!"

"The odor? I was asking about (Y/N)'s odor."

Ah, crap, Griffon thought. Should I let this woman know?! She's her friend! She could easily tell whether (Y/N)'s the fuckin' Dreadnought or not!

"Well! I, uh,..."

"Speaking of which," Nico interrupted, much to the bird's rotten luck. Or, was it? "... Nero has been bugging me with this non - existent apple pie he's been sniffin' round about three days ago. I mean, I can't even bake. But, if it's Kyrie then - !"

"If the pimple kid's a Demon, then that makes total sense! I - " Griffon blurted out without even thinking, making the woman stare at him in disbelief. He gulped audibly, his nerves getting the better of him. "Ah, oops?"

Nico raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "And what does that supposed to mean?"

"Ah, what?"

"THAT?!"

"AH! AAHH! NNRRGGHH!" Griffon squawked and started flapping his wings wildly in panic.

"HEY! I'M ONLY ASKING A QUESTION!" Nico said in an effort to make the bird calm down. "Unless,... " she stood up and pointed a tattooed finger at him. "... YOU'RE REALLY HIDING SOMETHING FROM US!"

"WWWHHHAAAKKK! QQQUUUAAAWWW!"

Griffon was moving too much that he accidentally scratched your arm in accident.

"DUMBASS!" Nico grabbed the bird's talons, taking them away from you. "LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"

"G - guys,... " You muttered, finally waking up due to the noise and the sudden pain in your arm. "What's happening?"

"It's the chicken's fault!" Nico shrieked, shaking the bird in annoyance.

You gave them a confused look, then glanced at the now bloody wound on your arm. You shook your head in disbelief.

"Do not be too hard on the creature. I will heal." You tiredly responded, standing up and making your way outside despite the rain.

"Hon, it's still raining." Nico pleaded as she finally let Griffon go.

"It matters not." You answered monotonously. "This body would soon perish, after all,..."

"Come again?"

It took both Nico and Griffon a few seconds to realize that your voice sounded different, the way you moved looked suspicious,...

... and your eyes seemed a different shade,...

"(Y/N), is that you?" Nico asked, wary of her own movements.

"That is the name of our vessel." You answered, further confirming that you were taken over by the entity in a space of only a few moments right after waking up.

"Our?" Griffon added. "What do ya mean by that, sweet pea?"

"Feeble minds would never be able to comprehend the meaning of our existence. Humans and Demons alike perceived us as one." You glanced back at them, only for them to see that you have completely changed your appearance.

"We are one. However, at the same time, we are three. I' am the Aspect of The Future." You, or the entity, made yourself known. "I' am here in this crucial moment to partake of a vital information from the near future."

"Future?" Nico bravely asked whilst Griffon remained silent. "You have a prediction for us?"

The entity, or The Aspect of The Future, bowed her regal head.

"In four days time, two hearts would be ripped open, blood shall be spilled, and emotions will clash upon uneven ground. A Prince will awaken and a King shall rise. The Pale Ones would make their move and engulf the whole world in darkness. Only then would the third and final heart, the one who would regret the most, be stabbed by their own doing."

"That sounds,... cheerful,..." Nico added sarcastically to somehow lighten the mood. She might have poked fun at you for changing into that light being who can disintegrate your clothes but, she just couldn't make fun of this particular entity who made unfunny prophecies.

Griffon flew towards the entity before Nico could even stop him.

"You said something before about crying and kneeling, and whatever that was." The demonic bird questioned. "What's up with that? Another twisted plot on a fuckin' t.v. show?!"

"My answer remains the same." The entity answered calmly. "At the final hours of the evening and the last radiance of the wounded moon, the past will weep, the present will kneel, and the future will die."

"The future will die?" Nico cut in. "Is that what you mean by your body perishing soon?"

But, the entity did not answer. Instead, she went past Griffon and made her way towards the woman.

"Would you weep, human?"

"Uh, it depends,..." Nico said matter - of - factly. It's the plain truth! Why would she cry at the prophet's death?

"You are strong and vigilant. Remain as such until the promised hour." The entity answered, then went back towards Griffon.

"Ahh, ya have somethin' for me?" Griffon asked.

"Remain true to your instincts." The entity told him. "Even in the face of true danger."

"Okay,... WHAT?!"

The entity nodded, then faced away from them, glancing at the depressing weather outside. Nico, who was curious to know more, followed suit.

"Why are you telling us all this? Isn't the future kind of forbidden to tell? And why show yourself now? Because the world is ending and some shit?"

"And so, you believed me?"

"Well, yeah! I believed in my friend, and her power comes from you! Of course, I believe you."

"Such innocence,..." the entity simply stated, then released a sound that sounded strangely like a chuckle. "There was a time when I was stoned by my own people for warning them of such dangers. No one believed me, and that is my eternal curse. A curse for turning away a powerful lover. He gave me this power."

"No one's stoning you here." Griffon said, joining the two. "That's just barbaric."

"Is there a way to prevent all this bad stuff from happening?" Nico finally asked, positively itching to know the solution. Well, there must be! "Like a plan B, or somethin'?"

"There is no alternative. Everything I told you is inevitable."

"So, that's it, huh? All of us will fuckin' die?" Griffon slightly yelled at the entity for being so pessimistic.

She looked at him and gave him a meaningful glance. "There is,... an alternative."

Griffon and Nico's eyes widened as they looked at each other in utter surprise.

"And it all depends on one." The entity finished.

"One what?!" Both Nico and Griffon questioned, to which they were just ignored as the entity glanced back at the weather outside.

"By then, the past shall still weep but, not for long, the present shall forever kneel but, the future,... may no longer die. That is,... a nice thought. If only,..."

"If only,... ?" Nico asked in an attempt to keep the entity talking.

However, the strange creature remained silent as she watched every single drop of the rain.

"It has been,... a long time since I watched the rain." She quietly said, her voice as gentle and calm as possible. "It is so calm, so peaceful. A fitting start to an end."

Nico sighed. They never truly heard something positive from her other than her proposed plan B, which was still very vague, much to their distaste.

"I'm afraid I'm keeping your friend." The entity told them. "I must go, for her strength must be replenished."

"WAIT!"

Both the entity and Nico looked at Griffon, surprised at what he just blurted out.

"Speak, creature of the night."

"I, ahh,..." Griffon began, unsure how to bring up the Dreadnought issue. "I just wanna know, is,... is (Y/N) an, ah, err, an,... ah, how to say this?"

"Just spit it out, Chickee!" Nico blurted out, crossing her arms once more.

"Is (Y/N) an enemy? I just wanna know." And just like that, the words were finally out from him like removing a thorn piercing his heart.

"ENEMY?! WHAT ARE YOU - ?!"

"I see." The entity said. All of a sudden, her body was engulfed with light, like she was catching on fire. "It entirely depends,... on the beholder."

And with those final words, the entity vanished, leaving behind her vessel.

Your eyes were closed shut, and when you finally opened them, you were surprised to see both Nico and Griffon staring at you with open mouths.

"Did I just do something weird?" You asked them, which made them convinced that you did not remember everything that just happened.

"No!" Nico answered with a nervous laugh.

"That's it! I just gotta tell V that she's not an enemy, right?!" Griffon said to himself, entirely forgetting that you and Nico could totally hear him.

"What are you talking about?" You asked him.

"Ah! Nothin' ! Gotta go!"

"Wait!"

And, just like that, the demonic bird flew away, his strange words and behavior making him even more suspicious.

***

~ A V X Reader set in an Alternate Universe wherein heavy rain means lost videos and Apocalypse. 🖤

~ Tagging @heaven-on-a-landslide , @lessy86 , @boundbysoul , @simmy-ships , @ehrzeth , @ceruleanworld , @gxthghoulfriend , and @diabeticsugarush . Thank you for all your support.

***

"I will wait for as long as it takes. I only ask for one thing: don't forget about me."

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

#devil may cry 5 #v #i see my future before me #v x reader #v x you #devil may cry nico #devil may cry nero #devil may cry griffon #invisible war #sitti navarro #chapter 17

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faunusrights · 5 years

Text

OFFAL HUNT REMASTER LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 9

oh goody!

well this is it. the Date Chapter. the chapter, in which, the Date happens. lowkey im so fucking hype for this stupid goddamn chapter AAAAAAAAAAAA this is when the sexy got kicked up about seven notches and i know its gonna be a fucking twenty from here on out so LETS GO LESBIANS LETS GO

“Is this your date, Ms. Fall?” he asked.

Cinder didn’t look away from Glynda. “Mhm.”

STRAIGHT OUT OF THE GODDAMN GATE WE DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A SECOND TO EVEN GATHER OURSELVES JUST STRAIGHT UP HUH!!!!!!!!! ‘is this your date’ im legally dead

What the fuck.

already im fucking THRIVING im so glad this chapter’s mood got encapsulated within the first ten seconds and im definitely gonna have to re-read this chapter for the full unannotated experience OOOOOOOOOH MY GOD IM SO READY

Glynda’s thoughts ricocheted inside her head like coins left in a dryer. A part of her couldn’t understand what was happening and disengaged. The rest of her, grasping for purchase in all this, reasoned that going with Cinder was better than staying here confused, alone, and utterly displaced.

glynda ‘i aint ever had a gf before’ goodwitch at her PEAK right here. like GOD shes gone from ‘cinder’s trying to murder me’ to ‘cinder just plopped me right into a date’ like CINDER. CINDER YR CHANGING GEARS SO FAST. YOU DIDNT EVEN SEND FLOWERS OR ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

is it because shes a u-haul lesbian or

Higher, Glynda realized the dress itself was backless, revealing the black tattoo she’d seen so often before, perfectly centered between sharp shoulder blades.

this gay energy is BONKERS, quite frankly??????? where did cinder get her dress from? why does she have it? did she buy it just for this fuckery? or will she pull the ‘i just had a this lil number laying around’ line????????? does she wanna seduce glynda to death?????? was this PLANNED OR DID SHE JUST DECIDE SHE WANTED A DATE AND WTH LIFE REALLY IS SHORT ON REMNANT THESE DAYS?????????? cinder fall please explain your workings to the class

maybe Glynda wasn’t the only one who’d become adept at reading her opponent.

👏 when 👏 will 👏 they 👏 kiss 👏 already 👏👏👏👏

me: this is a slowburn also me: if u assholes dont give me this in the next ten seconds-

“Unarmed? As if you could be so helpless.”

cinder’s style of flirting is just. commentating on a person’s deadliness. that’s IT it’s the only TRICK SHE HAS and its working, is the thing,

im reading the description of the table and remembering the shitpost and oh my god i have to draw this???? hell IS real!!!!!! COULDNT YALL JUST TOSS EM IN A PLAIN BOX,

Cinder eyed her from her bastion of dark cushions,

cinder, ass-deep in cushions: this is peak cuddle territory come and join me

Cinder, for her part, seemed delighted Glynda had noticed. Touching the pendant more gently than Glynda might have ever thought her capable of, Cinder said, “Yours? You didn’t seem to mind parting with it.”

im still deeply enjoying this powermove the novelty NEVER wears off (and at risk of light spoilers i do enjoy its place in this story 👀)

Cinder let the necklace drop, settling against the swell of her bust once more,

/lightly coughs 👀👀👀

im losing my MIND at how gay this bit is i physically cannot HANDLE IT and if they even describe the meal once im gonna pop off cause i am. SO HUNGRY RN. AAAAAAAAAAAA

Cinder indicated a dish of lamb and vegetables, served on a bed of rice and drizzled in some sort of sauce.

SRY THIS ISNT GAY BUT OH MY GOD IM SO HUNGRY I WANNA E A T I T THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD UGHGHGHGHGHGH WHY DID THIS CHAPTER HAVE TO BE TODAY OF ALL THE DAYS,

Glynda cleared her throat, working out: “The Grimm.”

like. GOD WE KNOW GLYNDA IS JUST SO FUNCTIONALLY BAD AT CONVERSATION BUT OF ALL THE THINGS glynda please just. just. stop thinking abt her sexy tattoos for a fifth of a second,

“You can control them.” A sedate blink. For all the world, Glynda might have just commented on the weather.

which is a faux pas for a date!!!!!!!!!!! at least tell her the DRESS IS SEXY WE ALL KNO WHATS WHAT YR THINKIN ABT

Glancing down as though it were being pointed out to her for the first time, Cinder shrugged and adjusted the end of the glove a little higher on her bicep. “And?”

a quick aside im enjoying how like... visually expressive cinder is in this remaster! i can see her facial expressions and her motions really clearly in my mind’s eye which is a fun little boon if only because i have to redraw this nonsense hjsgdfjhfksgd but cinder’s got a Good Face this time around! A QUALITY FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You should know by now, there’s something about you that’s simply irresistible to Grimm.”

HERE COMES THE PLOT (and a single surviving line so far... this one sentence has survived all the world could throw at it... we stan)

Cinder straightened, and Glynda saw that this was what she’d been waiting for.

“It isn’t every day the great Glynda Goodwitch kneels before her adversary, is it?”

HELLO??????????????????????????? WHATS THIS WORDING????????? honestly tho for a second i thought she meant like. quite literally and i thought id missed some PROPER SHIT RIGHT THERE BUT YEAH WTH!!!!!!! C I N D E R

“You cheated. You can’t beat me on your own.”

yes glynda we gathered that yr a top

“Really, Glynda? Poison?” she sneered, something like offense simmering in her expression. “After all this?”

looks at the camera

anyway,

god im literally losing grasp of words to say because theres such a charged mood in this scene............. theyre brushing fingers............ trading jabs.......... im slurpin it up babey!!!!!!!! this rly is the BEST remaster of this whole scene it DESERVES this wordcount!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Beat you,” Cinder corrected. “And call it a point of pride.”

yes cinder we gathered yr a brat,

this dynamic is why this fic is so fuckign good when will winter have a swift return to add even more fuckery to this wild ride

Then, with a heavy-lidded look, Cinder found Glynda’s hand between them, the touch so sudden and daring that Glynda flinched. The fabric of those gloves was smooth against Glynda’s flesh, and for all that cruelty had marked every other instance of contact between them, Cinder was surprisingly gentle.

whomp there go my nuts

WHAT IS THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHO MADE THE EXECUTIVE CHOICE TO ADD THIS LINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO???????????? im losing my BRAINCELLS

What she wasn’t ready for was for Cinder to guide her hand to her own throat and hold it there.

THERE IS IT THERE’S THE KINK IT’S BEEN SPOTTED

oh my GOD what even IS THIS WHO ADDED THIS SECTION WHO ALLOWED THIS TO COME TO P A S S WHAT THE FUCK EVEN IS RN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HELLO????????? HEWWO??????????

Now… Now Cinder interested her.

tbh how can i liveblog this? what commentary can i POSSIBLY add that we arent already all THINKING. we just launched into a level of hell so deep that lucifers gonna have to pull some goddamn tricks to follow us down here!!!!!!!!!! WHAT IS THIS SCENE! THIS MOMENT! IM SCREAMING

Glynda mirrored the expression back at him, and finally, he coughed, not making strong eye contact with either of them. He set their plate before them and hurried out without so much as a check-in.

i just KNEW that was gonna happen JHGDSFGJHKSDF he was gonna walk in on SMTHNG but i didnt think itd be CINDER’S CHOKING KINK,

okay i took a break and ate my weight in roast chicken and we’re back babey

Almost nervously, her fingers carded through her own dark hair, and there, among the locks, Glynda spotted a glimpse of something white, structured and ridged.

AND I AM INSTANTLY KNOCKED BACK UPON MY ASS 👈W👈H😨A👈T👈

It was easier to ignore the rest of it—whatever it was.

glynda you are a fool and a moron im withering into DUST

On no level had she expected those to be Glynda’s words.

then what... did she expect... well probably -- and rightly so -- ‘bitch WHAT ARE THOSE’ TBH

wait sorry i have to jump back because i forgot customary fingerguns on the most brazen bit of Shit yet:

Cinder was occupying herself with something else: the head of a dragon, perched over the door and staring down at the two of them with red, glossy eyes.

👈👈👈😎👈👈👈

okay BACK TO THE FIC

Fangs snapped together around the word.

aka back to me horni

/chanting TEETH! TEETH! TE

okay but the reason i doubled back to catch that fingergun is because we’re getting ass-deep into plot now!!!!!!!!!!! WITCHES AND DRAGONS BABEY......... HERE’S WHAT OFFAL HUNT IS ALL ABT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i cant rly drop more fingerguns than that because any astute reader will start realising the dots im shouting abt and honestly half the fun of this fic is the ride so >:3c

“Funny. I was sure he would have told you.”

that blow was so low i think cinder hit the concrete with that one

oh god theyre gonna get to the bit and i-

“Is that what all of this has been about? You called me here to remind me that I'm autistic?”

/SCREAMS

The words were delivered firmly, calmly, but Cinder’s response was the opposite, sudden upheaval seizing her. Her expression opened in something akin to panic. “Wh—no? What? No! That's not what I—”

/SCREAMS

oh my GOD CINDER YOU HAVE FUCKED UP LEGENDARILY!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD SHE WAS FELL ASS-FIRST ONTO A LANDMINE OH MY GOD

offal hunt v1 cinder: im totally in control and im playing glynda every step of the way

offal hunt v2 cinder: OH JESUS OH FUCK OH NO THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT-

Cinder seemed genuinely stressed now, speaking quicker as though trying to bury the last sixty seconds.

i knew this remaster would have sections that would blow me away but this bit really took the fcuking cake DGHSJFSJHFDG holy SHIT this is AMAZING

It was difficult to tell in the low light, but if Glynda wasn't mistaken, there was a bright flush of embarrassment coloring Cinder’s cheeks.

this is SUCH prime content hey remember in one of the early liveblogs that cinder would descend into full dork? WELL THE DESCENT CAME EARLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! /pops bottles

“Cinder.” There was a very real line of threat in Glynda’s tone. “Don’t.”

oh this whole scene just keeps getting better i am LOVING this dynamic now!!!!!!! before it was all pretty one-sided so having the conversation rock back and forth is 👌👌👌

That Witch soul of yours—it was designed to void out everything but the prey before you. To be numb to all human emotion. To focus on the hunt and nothing else.

finally the fruit of 50% of my fingerguns COMES TO LIGHT!!!!!!!!!!! PLOT PLOT PLOT

“This is bullshit.” Jabbing an accusing finger at Cinder, Glynda said, “You’re a liar. You’re a criminal!”

i LOVE glyndas pottymouth in this its such a good like... change from her being strict and formal and teachery and now shes full on gremlin huntress hell YES BABY!!!!!!!!!! GO OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“There’s all kinds of things I bet he never told you.” Cinder continued. “Did you know he was close to your predecessor? The Witch who came before you—they were inseparable.”

SRY IM LIKE STRUGGLIN TO COMMENTATE because so much of this like. speaking as an Old-Ass Reader this is like. a LOT! A LOT HAS CHANGED and yet,,,, stayed the same,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, yall kids WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL CHAPTER LIKE................ 15 FOR THIS SHIT (but like. chapter 15 was different because this chapter used to be like chapter 7? so now everythings moved along so chapter 15 doesnt sound that impressive but trust me it was a different fic back then)

When they fell away, burnt and ruined, she could see Cinder’s bare arms for the first time. The red lines drawn across her skin sloped down the entire length of her arms, circling her elbows, carved into her wrists. They ended right at her hands, ensuring any long-sleeved garment would hide them. Every covered inch of her was filled like a canvas, like abstract art.

lets pause the fight scene for glynda to be gay!!!!! god im. okay look i said this earlier but im so glad we have more cinder like this tbh. the first version was rly lacking w/ cinder content until late-game when the plot sorta. got itself going? but now we’re eye-deep in this content i LOVE cinder i love this WEIRDO who is a HUGE LOSER and IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM LOVE HER SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And Glynda could not dispel the fear that she had been telling the truth.

and after committing Some Amount In Damages, we’re at the end of the chapter!

okay so i really enjoyed this version SO MUCH MORE. everything abt it was polished and worked together so much better and it really needed the space to breathe in its own chapter. its been horny, gay, intense, hilarious, and way more in one chapter and its SO good this really is PEAK offal hunt!!!!!!!!!!!! good job diesel and kc but im still going to murder you both,

#rwby #offal hunt #liveblog

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