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peach-the-owl · 3 years

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I loved seeing the Gentlemen saves Jester's kid in the Rescued piece you wrote, could we have some more of the Gentlemen and Jester's kid? Maybe them calling him Grandpa?

Sorry this took so long, it started as one thing and then turned into something I didn't originally plan for… Hope you still like it 😁

The Little Things You See

Child of the Nein (Jester & Child!Reader)

(More of The Gentleman & Child!Reader but you get the idea)

As much as you’d like to help the Nein in their missions there were a few exceptions here and there were you would have to stay behind, one such reason being the group getting tasked by the Gentleman to look into a… as Jester put it, bad version of her mother’s job.

"This is for grownups only okay, no sneaking along." Jester re-informs, you give her a nod. "I mean it, this isn’t just a fight the bad guys and win, we have to be a little more sneaky and I don’t want you to get caught in something really inappropriate."

"Okay mama, I promise not to follow." You say holding one hand up and placing the other on your chest to show her you didn’t have your fingers crossed… this time.

"Good good," she hums happily, "and don’t worry you'll be looked after here, right dad!" She calls over to the Gentleman, who rubs at his temples and lets out a groan. He quickly straightens himself out more and goes on to give one more quick briefing to the Nein before they depart, leaving you there with him.

"So now what?" You tilt your head up at him curiously.

"Now I have some business to attend to, while you stay here and don’t cause any trouble." He simply says, making you pout as he turns and walks away from you. You hobble over to a chair and sit yourself down at a table and make a few doodles in your journal as you wait for time to pass, it’s not long however before you start to get bored and fidgety, feeling the need to get up and do something. You slide off the chair and have a look around, something catches your eye and a mischievous look crosses your features…

"What did I not just tell you!?" He looks at you with strong annoyance. The bar fight behind you finally calming down.

"It’s not my fault this place can get boring, I was just trying to add a little more fun." You give a smile, a hint of deviousness still behind it.

"This is not your playground, this is a serious business." He groans, rubbing at his temples.

"Yeah and I’m bored, I wanna do something with my grandpa!" You hop in place, hoping he'd take a hint. His eye twitches a bit as he turns away from you, placing a hand to his forehead and taking a audible breath.

"I don’t know what's been placed in your mind but I've already discussed this. I am not Jester's father, and I’m certainly not your grandfather so just… stop!" It goes quiet between the two of you for a very long time, you shuffle off to the side and pull out a toy from your pack to mindlessly play with it, there was a strong question on your mind but decided it best to give the Gentleman some peace for a while to cool off first.

"Why do you act like you don’t want to be my mama's dad?" You ask suddenly, catching the Gentleman off guard from your softer tone.

"Wha… I… this is a very complicated subject I don’t think you’d quite understand." He says slowly, you let out a sigh.

"I pay more attention to some things then people think I really do, I’ve seen how you'd get this look of… I don’t know what to call it… sadness I guess, when mama would talk about wanting you to be with grandma again." You say, fiddling with the toy in your hands.

"See you don’t understand, I’m a wanted man and stepping into the public eye would cause trouble. So you see now, even if I did want to I couldn’t. Not that I care much anyways." He try’s explaining, while also trying to brush your to the side.

"Why are adults so dumb and hide their feelings so much." You’re now the one sighing in annoyance at him. "It’s like you’re scared of being your real self." You finish.

"I beg your pardon." The Gentleman looks at you, quite offended by your words. "Did you not hear what I just said? I am a powerful crime boss, with powerful connections and blood on my hands, wanted for so many different things."

"And you’re scared to be yourself." You say both nonchalantly and matter-of-factly, all while still playing around with the toy in your hands.

"I cannot believe I’m having this kind of conversation with a child. Why do you think I should care about what you say." He says, sounding irritated.

"Well, why did you bother to help me from my caretaker?" Finally, finally you make eye contact with him. "They weren’t completely wrong when they’d said I didn’t have anyone else, before I met Jester they were the only one I had. If you don’t care, why would you help me and not do your business stuff like you normally do?" A long silence falls between the two of you.

"You are something else." He starts, quietly. "I never would’ve guessed a normally spritely child could pick up on so much."

"I love having fun and exploring! But I can also notice things you adults don’t seem to, which is weird because it seems obvious to me." You mutter the last part more to yourself. He looks like he’s about to say something but you cut him off and quickly change the subject when you hear your stomach growl at you. "I’m hungry. Got any snacks?" He stares at you a second before placing a hand to his head, a more amused look on his face this time at your quick change in behaviour.

"Something else indeed." He mutters, before straightening his posture. "Very well, but you’ll have to assist me in something."

"Like what!?" Your eyes light up in excitement and curiosity.

"You said it yourself, you notice things we adults apparently cannot. I have caught wind of a mole amongst our ranks, with your observational skills and innocent charm perhaps you’ll be able to help identify them." He sounded much more relaxed, like some invisible weight just lifted away, if only just a little bit.

"Really? Cool! I know how to use Zone of Truth if you need it… wait no, Caleb's told me I can’t unless it’s like a really important thing."

"This is important, for me." He pauses a moment. "I won’t tell if you don’t." He adds, placing a finger to his lips, there's a minor hint of playfulness in his voice making you beam and nod. With that you not only got some tasty snacks but also got to spend some more time with the Gentleman, it was a win win. He certainly still held his formal face in front of everyone else because business is still business and there was the mole situation that you were helping sort out but he was able to drop some of that facade for you, though not by a lot. It was funny to you how stubborn grownup were, seeing how they’d always call you the stubborn one.

It may have taken up a day and a half but surprisingly your hunt for the mole was a lot easier then you thought, you sat in a separate room from the bar, set up a Zone of Truth spell and put on an sweet, innocent act so that those affected by the spell would quickly fall into a false sense of security around you and hopefully forget about the spell in general. You’d then ask specific questions the Gentleman had given you, paying as much attention to the person's actions and tone when they'd answer, even if they could only speak the truth that didn’t mean they could work around their words. Once you found someone suspicious they’d be brought elsewhere for further questioning, or at least that’s what you were told, as it turns out there were a few moles working together to try and bring down the Gentleman’s operations (red was looking pretty sus…… I’ll stop). You were just glad you could help, like your own little mission. Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was closer to 4 days the Nein return having completed their mission, without hesitation you run over and get swept up into a hug by Jester.

"Your back! How was it? Did you stop all the bad guys?" You bombard her with questions, she laughs and does her best to answer them as best as possible, leaving out anything you were too young to know about yet.

"What about you? How was your time here?" Jester asks you which you happily recount what you all did to her, pointing to a corner of the wall where you’d made some drawings for the Traveler making her smile. She secures her grip on you and the group starts to make their way out, but not before she looks over at the Gentleman. "Thanks for looking after them dad." She calls, he looks away and sighs.

"Yeah, It was a lot of fun. Thanks grandpa!" You also call.

"Please don’t call me that." He says, rubbing a hand down his face. You catch the slightest twitch of a smile on his face before it goes back to being neutral, you giggle at this, grownups really were weird.

#critical role #critical role & reader #mighty nein #the mighty nein #mighty nein & reader #jester lavorre #jester & reader

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xfandomwritingsx · 3 years

Text

A Gentleman – Daryl Dixon

(gif source unknown)

Ashley’s 2020 December Prompts

Prompt: Snow

Warnings/Labels: UST. Definitely UST.

Appox. Word Count: 1,000

A/N: Am I thrilled with this one? No. But it is what it is right now.

It’s cold out in the woods. You’re supposed to be out with Daryl hunting, but you’re not exactly sure what you’re supposed to be hunting. There’s a thick layer of fresh snow on the ground and you’re pretty sure it’s way passed hunting season for any animal worth eating, but you don’t know honestly. You’re a bad hunting apprentice.

You shiver from your spot on the ground where you’d dug a hole in the snow for you to sit. Daryl notices and scoffs a little bit.

“Told ya to dress warmer,” he scolds, adjusting the poncho that’s draping over him. The same one you poked fun at him for. The one you now wished you had instead of him.

“My wardrobe selection is a little minimal at the moment,” you comment dryly. “A gentleman would offer the lady his coat.” He scoffs again.

“I ain’t a gentleman.” He shifts, taking his elbow off of his knee where he’d had it perched. “And you ain’t no lady either.” Your mouth drops open and you squint at him. “Don’t act all offended.” He chews on his fingernail, staring out into the forest. “I saw you last night.” Your mouth snaps shut and suddenly you’re feeling a little more hot than you are cold.

“Stalker,” is the only retort you can come up with.

“Ain’t my fault you left your curtains open.” He still hasn’t looked your way yet since starting this conversation.

“You didn’t have to look.” You watch him carefully, a little smile on your face.

“You tellin’ me if you looked over and saw me struttin’ around naked, you wouldn’t look?” He finally cocks an eyebrow at you and you let out an airy laugh. You have to admit, there’s a reason you chose the house next to Daryl’s in this new community. The fact that your bedroom window lined up with his kitchen is one hell of a bonus too.

“Oh, I’d do a lot more than just look, Dixon.” You and Daryl have always had a flirtatious friendship, but lately it’s taken a sharp turn headed in the direction of bold and dirty. When you first dipped your toe into flirtatious innuendos, it just caused him to blush and get flustered. You were actually about to stop, honestly concerned you were making him uncomfortable, but then he started giving it back and it became a game of who can break who first and you got addicted to all too quickly.

“Bullshit,” he spits, calling your bluff.

“I might!” you laugh and give his shoulder a nudge with yours. “Besides, I wasn’t naked.” You weren’t that bold.

“You were damn close enough.” His attention is back to the forest, eyes scanning the trees through the snowfall. “We ain’t catching shit today,” he comments.

“You think?” you ask sarcastically, earning you a pointed look. “Does that mean we can go back to where it isn’t freezing?”

“Don’t like the snow?” He makes absolutely no motions to get up and leave despite your hinting. He just shrugs and keeps looking out.

“It’s cold,” you answer curtly. Sure, it’s pretty. The snow out here is mostly untainted by people, alive or otherwise. It’s quiet and peaceful and if you could get passed the chill shuddering through you, maybe you could enjoy it more.

“Quit bein’ a pussy,” he teases. You find yourself getting huffy with him.

“Daryl Dixon, it’s fucking cold out here and I don’t have cold weather clothes on! It’s not my fault that-what are you doing?” He’s reaching out to you, one hand curling around the back of your head, fingers at the rim of your fuzzy hat. The other is slipping around your waist as he turns you to face him, pulling you closer.

“Bein’ a gentleman,” he answers, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. He leans in close to you, making your stomach flutter and your words sputter.

“How is this being a gentleman?” He smirks and leans down. You tilt your chin, all too ready to accept his kiss, but he turns at the last moment, instead dipping his mouth towards your neck and making you suck in a sharp breath. His lips never touch you, but he’s so damn close.

“I’m warmin’ you up,” he whispers, dragging his nose along your neck and up to your ear. “Ain’t that what gentlemen do?” His lips are at your ear and you can’t deny there’s a strong heat coursing through your entire body at the moment. Your eyes have drifted shut and your hands are blindly reaching out to his chest and clutching at his poncho.

“A gentleman wouldn’t be such a tease,” you tell him. You can barely feel his hand through the layers of your clothes as it slips from your neck and down the front of your body.

“Is it makin’ you uncomfortable?” It’s a real question, but it’s laced with his a husky undertone that might make you quiver. “Should prolly stop.” Before you can protest, he’s shifted away from you, leaving the winter air to hit all the places he’d touched and giving you an extremely unsatisfied feeling. He’s got a smirk on his face, but doesn’t look your way as you gather your composure.

“Let’s go home,” you tell him after a moment. “I want to strip these bulky layers off and slip into something better.” He nods and starts gathering his bag together. You tilt your head and add a little sultry into your voice. “You know… as I change, a gentleman would be in his kitchen getting us drinks ready.” He pauses for just a moment before slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Not looking out his window obviously.” He grunts in response before standing up and offering out his hand to you. You take it, his hand just as icy as yours. He hoists you to your feet, but instead of letting go, you lean into him. “Too bad you’re not a gentleman.”

“Tryin’ to imply you want somethin’ sweetheart?” He grips your hand a little firmer, not allowing you to back away even if you wanted. You smile coyly.

“I’m just a lady who wants to have a drink with her friend.” You stare at each other for a moment, but he has no retort for you. You loosen your grip on him and he lets you go, letting you start to lead the way back home.

“I told ya, ya ain’t no lady,” he calls from behind you.

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #ashley's 2020 christmas prompts

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ariel-seagull-wings · 3 years

Text

JACK AND HIS GOLDEN SNUFF-BOX

(Romani English Folk Take, collect by Joseph Jacobs)

@princesssarisa @superkingofpriderock @sunlit-music @theancientvaleofsoulmaking

“Once upon a time, and a very good time it was, though it was neither in my time nor in your time nor in any one else's time, there was an old man and an old woman, and they had one son, and they lived in a great forest. And their son never saw any other people in his life, but he knew that there was some more in the world besides his own father and mother, because he had lots of books, and he used to read every day about them. And when he read about some pretty young women, he used to go mad to see some of them; till one day, when his father was out cutting wood, he told his mother that he wished to go away to look for his living in some other country, and to see some other people besides them two. And he said, “I see nothing at all here but great trees around me; and if I stay here, maybe I shall go mad before I see anything.” The young man's father was out all this time, when this talk was going on between him and his poor old mother.

The old woman begins by saying to her son before leaving, “Well, well, my poor boy, if you want to go, it's better for you to go, and God be with you.”—(The old woman thought for the best when she said that.)—“But stop a bit before you go. Which would you like best for me to make you, a little cake and bless you, or a big cake and curse you?” “Dear, dear!” said he, “make me a big cake. Maybe I shall be hungry on the road.” The old woman made the big cake, and she went on top of the house, and she cursed him as far as she could see him.

He presently meets with his father, and the old man says to him: “Where are you going, my poor boy?” when the son told the father the same tale as he told his mother. “Well,” says his father, “I'm sorry to see you going away, but if you've made your mind to go, it's better for you to go.”

The poor lad had not gone far, when his father called him back; then the old man drew out of his pocket a golden snuff-box, and said to him: “Here, take this little box, and put it in your pocket, and be sure not to open it till you are near your death.” And away went poor Jack upon his road, and walked till he was tired and hungry, for he had eaten all his cake upon the road; and by this time night was upon him, so he could hardly see his way before him. He could see some light a long way before him, and he made up to it, and found the back door and knocked at it, till one of the maid-servants came and asked him what he wanted. He said that night was on him, and he wanted to get some place to sleep. The maid-servant called him in to the fire, and gave him plenty to eat, good meat and bread and beer; and as he was eating his food by the fire, there came the young lady to look at him, and she loved him well and he loved her. And the young lady ran to tell her father, and said there was a pretty young man in the back kitchen; and immediately the gentleman came to him, and questioned him, and asked what work he could do. Jack said, the silly fellow, that he could do anything. (He meant that he could do any foolish bit of work, that would be wanted about the house.)

“Well,” says the gentleman to him, “if you can do anything, at eight o'clock in the morning I must have a great lake and some of-the largest man-of-war vessels sailing before my mansion, and one of the largest vessels must fire a royal salute, and the last round must break the leg of the bed where my young daughter is sleeping. And if you don't do that, you will have to forfeit your life.”

“All right,” said Jack; and away he went to his bed, and said his prayers quietly, and slept till it was near eight o'clock, and he had hardly any time to think what he was to do, till all of a sudden he remembered about the little golden box that his father gave him. And he said to himself: “Well, well, I never was so near my death as I am now;” and then he felt in his pocket, and drew the little box out. And when he opened it, out there hopped three little red men, and asked Jack: “What is your will with us?” “Well,” said Jack, “I want a great lake and some of the largest man-of-war vessels in the world before this mansion, and one of the largest vessels to fire a royal salute, and the last round to break one of the legs of the bed where this young lady is sleeping.” “All right,” said the little men; “go to sleep.”

Jack had hardly time to bring the words out of his mouth, to tell the little men what to do, but what it struck eight o'clock, when Bang, bang went one of the largest man-of-war vessels; and it made Jack jump out of bed to look through the window; and I can assure you it was a wonderful sight for him to see, after being so long with his father and mother living in a wood.

By this time Jack dressed himself, and said his prayers, and came down laughing; for he was proud, he was, because the thing was done so well. The gentleman comes to him, and says to him: “Well, my young man, I must say that you are very clever indeed. Come and have some breakfast.” And the gentleman tells him, “Now there are two more things you have to do, and then you shall have my daughter in marriage.” Jack gets his breakfast, and has a good squint at the young lady, and also she at him.

The other thing that the gentleman told him to do was to fell all the great trees for miles around by eight o'clock in the morning; and, to make my long story short, it was done, and it pleased the gentleman well The gentleman said to him: “The other thing you have to do”—(and it was the last thing)—“you must get me a great castle standing on twelve golden pillars; and there must come regiments of soldiers and go through their drill. At eight o'clock the commanding officer must say, 'Shoulder up.'” “All right,” said Jack; when the third and last morning came the third great feat was finished, and he had the young daughter in marriage. But, oh dear! there is worse to come yet.

The gentleman now makes a large hunting party, and invites all the gentlemen around the country to it, and to see the castle as well. And by this time Jack has a beautiful horse and a scarlet dress to go with them. On that morning his valet, when putting Jack's clothes by, after changing them to go a hunting, put his hand in one of Jack's waistcoat-pockets, and pulled out the little golden snuffbox, as poor Jack left behind in a mistake. And that man opened the little box, and there hopped the three little red men out, and asked him what he wanted with them. “Well,” said the valet to them, “I want this castle to be moved from this place far and far across the sea.” “All right,” said the little red men to him; “do you wish to go with it?” “Yes,” said he. “Well, get up,” said they to him; and away they went far and far over the great sea.

Now the grand hunting party comes back, and the castle upon the twelve golden pillars had disappeared, to the great disappointment of those gentlemen as did not see it before. That poor silly Jack is threatened by taking his beautiful young wife from him, for taking them in in the way he did. But the gentleman at last made an agreement with him, and he is to have a twelvemonths and a day to look for it; and off he goes with a good horse and money in his pocket.

Now poor Jack goes in search of his missing castle, over hills, dales, valleys, and mountains, through woolly woods and sheepwalks, further than I can tell you or ever intend to tell you. Until at last he comes up to the place where lives the King of all the little mice in the world. There was one of the little mice on sentry at the front gate going up to the palace, and did try to stop Jack from going in. He asked the little mouse: “Where does the King live? I should like to see him.” This one sent another with him to show him the place; and when the King saw him, he called him in. And the King questioned him, and asked him where he was going that way. Well, Jack told him all the truth, that he had lost the great castle, and was going to look for it, and he had a whole twelvemonths and a day to find it out. And Jack asked him whether he knew anything about it; and the King said: “No, but I am the King of all the little mice in the world, and I will call them all up in the morning, and maybe they have seen something of it.”

Then Jack got a good meal and bed, and in the morning he and the King went on to the fields; and the King called all the mice together, and asked them whether they had seen the great beautiful castle standing on golden pillars. And all the little mice said, No, there was none of them had seen it. The old King said to him that he had two other brothers: “One is the King of all the frogs; and my other brother, who is the oldest, he is the King of all the birds in the world. And if you go there, may be they know something about the missing castle.” The King said to him: “Leave your horse here with me till you come back, and take one of my best horses under you, and give this cake to my brother; he will know then who you got it from. Mind and tell him I am well, and should like dearly to see him.” And then the King and Jack shook hands together.

And when Jack was going through the gates, the little mouse asked him, should he go with him; and Jack said to him: “No, I shall get myself into trouble with the King.” And the little thing told him: “It will be better for you to let me go with you; maybe I shall do some good to you some time without you knowing it.” “Jump up, then.” And the little mouse ran up the horse's leg, and made it dance; and Jack put the mouse in his pocket.

Now Jack, after wishing good morning to the King and pocketing the little mouse which was on sentry, trudged on his way; and such a long way he had to go and this was his first day. At last he found the place; and there was one of the frogs on sentry, and gun upon his shoulder, and did try to hinder Jack from going in; but when Jack said to him that he wanted to see the King, he allowed him to pass; and Jack made up to the door. The King came out, and asked him his business; and Jack told him all from beginning to end. “Well, well, come in.” He gets good entertainment that night; and in the morning the King made such a funny sound, and collected all the frogs in the world. And he asked them, did they know or see anything of a castle that stood upon twelve golden pillars; and they all made a curious sound, Kro-kro, kro-kro, and said, No.

Jack had to take another horse, and a cake to this King's brother, who is the King of all the fowls of the air; and as Jack was going through the gates, the little frog that was on sentry asked John should he go with him. Jack refused him for a bit; but at last he told him to jump up, and Jack put him in his other waistcoat pocket. And away he went again on his great long journey; it was three times as long this time as it was the first day; however, he found the place, and there was a fine bird on sentry. And Jack passed him, and he never said a word to him; and he talked with the King, and told him everything, all about the castle. “Well,” said the King to him, “you shall know in the morning from my birds, whether they know anything or not.” Jack put up his horse in the stable, and then went to bed, after having something to eat. And when he got up in the morning the King and he went on to some field, and there the King made some funny noise, and there came all the fowls that were in all the world. And the King asked them; “Did they see the fine castle?” and all the birds answered, No. “Well,” said the King, “where is the great bird?” They had to wait then for a long time for the eagle to make his appearance, when at last he came all in a perspiration, after sending two little birds high up in the sky to whistle on him to make all the haste he possibly could. The King asked the great bird, Did he see the great castle? and the bird said: “Yes, I came from there where it now is.” “Well,” says the King to him; “this young gentleman has lost it, and you must go with him back to it; but stop till you get a bit of something to eat first.”

They killed a thief, and sent the best part of it to feed the eagle on his journey over the seas, and had to carry Jack on his back. Now when they came in sight of the castle, they did not know what to do to get the little golden box. Well, the little mouse said to them: “Leave me down, and I will get the little box for you.” So the mouse stole into the castle, and got hold of the box; and when he was coming down the stairs, it fell down, and he was very near being caught. He came running out with it, laughing his best. “Have you got it?” Jack said to him; he said: “Yes;” and off they went back again, and left the castle behind.

As they were all of them (Jack, mouse, frog, and eagle) passing over the great sea, they fell to quarrelling about which it was that got the little box, till down it slipped into the water. (It was by them looking at it and handing it from one hand to the other that they dropped the little box to the bottom of the sea.) “Well, well,” said the frog, “I knew that I would have to do something, so you had better let me go down in the water.” And they let him go, and he was down for three days and three nights; and up he comes, and shows his nose and little mouth out of the water; and all of them asked him, Did he get it? and he told them, No. “Well, what are you doing there, then?” “Nothing at all,” he said, “only I want my full breath;” and the poor little frog went down the second time, and he was down for a day and a night, and up he brings it.

And away they did go, after being there four days and nights; and after a long tug over seas and mountains, arrive at the palace of the old King, who is the master of all the birds in the world. And the King is very proud to see them, and has a hearty welcome and a long conversation. Jack opens the little box, and told the little men to go back and to bring the castle here to them; “and all of you make as much haste back again as you possibly can.”

The three little men went off; and when they came near the castle they were afraid to go to it till the gentleman and lady and all the servants were gone out to some dance. And there was no one left behind there only the cook and another maid with her; and the little red men asked them which would they rather—go, or stop behind? and they both said: “I will go with you;” and the little men told them to run upstairs quick. They were no sooner up and in one of the drawing-rooms than here comes just in sight the gentleman and lady and all the servants; but it was too late. Off the castle went at full speed, with the women laughing at them through the window, while they made motions for them to stop, but all to no purpose.

They were nine days on their journey, in which they did try to keep the Sunday holy, when one of the little men turned to be the priest, the other the clerk, and third presided at the organ, and the women were the singers, for they had a grand chapel in the castle already. Very remarkable, there was a discord made in the music, and one of the little men ran up one of the organ-pipes to see where the bad sound came from, when he found out it only happened to be that the two women were laughing at the little red man stretching his little legs full length on the bass pipes, also his two arms the same time, with his little red night-cap, which he never forgot to wear, and what they never witnessed before, could not help calling forth some good merriment while on the face of the deep. And poor thing! through them not going on with what they begun with, they very near came to danger, as the castle was once very near sinking in the middle of the sea.

At length, after a merry journey, they come again to Jack and the King. The King was quite struck with the sight of the castle; and going up the golden stairs, went to see the inside.

The King was very much pleased with the castle, but poor Jack's time of a twelvemonths and a day was drawing to a close; and he, wishing to go home to his young wife, gives orders to the three little men to get ready by the next morning at eight o'clock to be off to the next brother, and to stop there for one night; also to proceed from there to the last or the youngest brother, the master of all the mice in the world, in such place where the castle shall be left under his care until it's sent for. Jack takes a farewell of the King, and thanks him very much for his hospitality.

Away went Jack and his castle again, and stopped one night in that place; and away they went again to the third place, and there left the castle under his care. As Jack had to leave the castle behind, he had to take to his own horse, which he left there when he first started.

Now poor Jack leaves his castle behind and faces towards home; and after having so much merriment with the three brothers every night, Jack became sleepy on horseback, and would have lost the road if it was not for the little men a-guiding him. At last he arrived weary and tired, and they did not seem to receive him with any kindness whatever, because he had not found the stolen castle; and to make it worse, he was disappointed in not seeing his young and beautiful wife to come and meet him, through being hindered by her parents. But that did not stop long. Jack put full power on and despatched the little men off to bring the castle from there, and they soon got there.

Jack shook hands with the King, and returned many thanks for his kingly kindness in minding the castle for him; and then Jack instructed the little men to spur up and put speed on. And off they went, and were not long before they reached their journey's end, when out comes the young wife to meet him with a fine lump of a young SON, and they all lived happy ever afterwards”.

#joseph jacobs #folk tales #fairy tales #literature #fantasy #genre fiction #folklore #mithology

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onedoesnotsimplywriteafanfic · 3 years

Text

Reunited at last (3/6)

Part: 1, 2

After an escape gone wrong they, Sam, Nate and Rafe, never quit there plan. As they kept running, the guards started to close them in. Jumping from on building to the next, gun shots filled the air. Rafe was the first to jump, Nate follow suit and Sam barely made it over. Hanging from the wall with dear life Nate offered him a hand to pull him up.

Holding on his brothers hand the guards took this as an opportunity and opened fire once more. Nate almost got Sam on the wall when they started firing, most of the bullets hit the wall but a couple ended in Sams torso.

Sam started coughing and blood dripped from his lips. ‘’Sam, no.’’ said Nate softly and scared. ‘’No, you hold on.’’ He said as Sam started to slip. Now hanging from the wall, Nate holding onto his arm with all his might. Little by little Sam started to loose concussions and slips further from his brothers grasp. ‘’Give me your other hand.’’ Nate said hasty, knowing he didn’t had much time left. But Sam could not bring him self to it and slipped out of his brothers grasp and fell down. Hitting a steal roof on his way and fell right trough it into the dark layers below.

Nate didn’t want to leave his brothers body behind but Rafe told him he was gone and that they needed to move. ‘’We have to go, now.’’ he said as he tried to help Nate up from the ground. ‘’No, I can’t, I can’t leave him behind.’’ It was a difficult decisions but he soon followed Rafe to the boat and leaving his brothers body behind.

A lump in my throat prevented me from speaking. ‘’But it is normal to think you saw him.’’ I nodded slowly. He hugged me tight and stroked my back. ‘’Take the time you need, but I do need to go back, the auction is about to start any minute now.’’ I wiped away some tears that had made there way out. ‘’I will be there in a minute.’’ I said softly, once I cleared my head I joined Rafe back in the hall.

As Rafe walked back inside he stumbled upon an old friend. ‘’Victor Sullivan, how the hell are you?’’ Rafe said with a honeyed voice. Victor, my dad, looked up from the women he was speaking with, Nadine, Rafe’s business partner. ‘’Rafe, why am I not surprised to see you here.’’ He said while shaking his hand. ‘’How long has it been?’’ Rafe asked mocking, knowing perfectly well how long it has been. ‘’Ten years, twelve?’’ he continued. ‘’Fifteen.’’ Said Victor annoyed and slightly irritated.

They spoke some more about work and business. Feeling a little bit better I decided to go back and look for Rafe. He wasn’t hard to find. Walking closer to him I could not see the man’s face he was talking to. ‘’Feeling better?’’ he asked soon as I came in his few. ‘’Yes.’’ The smile I carried soon faded as the man turned around. ‘’Dad?’’ I asked shocked. ‘’Are you here with him?’’ he pointed to Rafe. ‘’Yes. She is, Victor.’’ Answered Rafe for me as I couldn’t find the words.

With a glare Victor looked at him. ‘’She can speak for herself, son.’’ Rafe held his hands up in a backing away manor. ‘’You said you were in Yemen.’’ with my arms crossed I looked at him, waiting for his respond. ‘’Why did you lie?’’ I knew I had lied too, but this was different. ‘’I uhm, we, oh boy.’’ He mumbled. ‘’We? Nate is here too?’’ he sighed and scratched his head. ‘’Well yeah and,’’ he stopped himself from talking. ‘’I never said whit whom I was because I knew you were still pissed at Rafe for leaving but this,’’ I was angry at my dad. How and why would he lie about this.

Before he could answer the auction was about to start. ‘’And in a moment we will start bidding on our next item an inlaid wooden crucifix from the Trott Estate.’’ the lady spoke. ‘’Should have know the two of you went after the crucifix as well. You could have just told me, you know.’’ I said angry and walked away from my dad.

Without saying anything further Rafe followed me and left Victor alone. ‘’Guys, we have a problem, not only is Rafe here but also my daughter.’’ It was silenced for a second on the communicators they used. ‘’She is?’’ someone asked both hurt and hopeful. ‘’Yes, she is, but she is here with Rafe.’’ Victor said. ‘’Sam, I am so sorry.’’ Nate said, not exactly knowing what to say or feel. ‘’Let’s just focus on the task boys. We need that cross.’’ Victor said in his fatherly tone.

Looking for a place in the crowd, I admired the cross. For something so old it was in perfect condition. Preserved in its original state, finding something like this was rare. Just being here, able to see it from so close was a privilege.

The bidding had started. Rafe waited till a higher bid before he started to bid on it as well. At almost one hundred thousand euro, no one els was bidding any more, until my dad had the audacity to made the bid of the one thousand euro’s. “What is he doing?’’ I muttered under my breath. Rafe placed another bid. Thousand euro’s higher than the last.

It went on like this between the two for a good two to three minutes. After my dad had bid two hundred thousand euro Rafe got so irritated that he bid five hundred thousand euro. ‘’Get this show on the road, shall we.’’ Rafe said eager to win the bid. ‘’Does the gentleman wish to bid again?’’ The auctioneer asked. All eyes were on Victor. ‘’Its all yours.’’ he said, making a waving hand gesture. I let out a sigh of relive, if he had won this bid we would be bankrupt. We didn’t have that much money, let alone the opening bid.

A smirked formed around Rafe’s lips. ‘’We are going once,’’ the women started. ‘’Going twice.’’ the room kept quiet, Rafe could feel the victory. ‘’Then I shall sell it for five hundred thousand,’’ before she could finish the lights fell out and the hall was left in complete darkness. ‘’Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. The backup power will come on shortly.’’ the women spoke in order to keep everyone calm.

In the room whispers arose, some panicky and some calm. I had a bad feeling by this. Just a second later the backup power came on and someone stated. ‘’It’s gone!’’ meaning the cross. I should have know it. It could have only meant one thing why my dad and Nate where here, to steal the cross.

I lost Rafe in all the commotion, looking for a way out in the hope to find Nate. He couldn't have gotten far. Opening every door in the corridor I was in, I came face to face with Nate. ‘’I think you have something that doesn’t belong to you.’’ I said pushing him back in the room. ‘’Well, technically it’s neither yours.’’ he joked, but I was not laughing. ‘’Just give it back Nate, you gave up this hunt years ago.’’ He was holding back something, I could see it in his eyes. ‘’Why are you here with Rafe.’’ trying to distract me he changed the subject. ‘’Hand me the cross Nate.’’ I held out my hand. ‘’No.’’ he said stern.

With pain in my eyes I looked at my best friend. ‘’Don’t make me fight you for it Nathan.’’ he was shocked to hear me say that. ‘’You don’t mean that.’’ Somewhere I did, but hoped it would not come to it. He took some steps back while I took them forward. Slow and steady I approached Nate. ‘’There are a million other treasures to be found, can’t you just for once let one slip?’’ he shook his head. ‘’I am sorry, but I can’t not this time.’’ And with that he ran towards me.

In shock I covered my face not knowing what would come, but at the very last moment he dodged me and jumped out of the window. ‘’NATHAN!’’ I screamed and ran to the window, looking outside in the hope to see him hanging onto something, but nothing. After a couple of seconds of looking down I could hear a faint grunt. It belonged to Nate, who was probably hanging onto something underneath the window just outside of my point of view.

I let out an angry sigh before I headed back to the main hall to find Rafe. On my way there I could hear the gunshots from outside. My head was spinning, I just hoped Nate would make it out alive. Somewhere outside I found Rafe. ‘’Rafe!’’ I ran towards him and looked him up and down. ‘’You are oke. I heard the shots and.’’ my voice was cracked and my hands were shaking. ‘’Im oke.’’ he said pulling my into his arms. ‘’I was worried about you.’’ he admitted.

Back at the hotel I told him what happened. ‘’Nate stole the cross.’’ I said defeated. ‘’I should have known, that could have been the only reason why my father would be there and why he would bid such ridiculous prices he never could afford.’’ I rented without pausing. Rafe sat at the kitchen table with a glass of scotch in his hand, listening. ‘’We will find out what was so important to that cross the hard way.’’ With a big gulp he emptied his glass.

Because of my tiredness I couldn’t think logically, I needed sleep and in the morning I would look at ways to unravel this mystery. I said goodnight to Rafe and went to my room.

The next morning we talked about ways to find clues. ‘’I can go to the library, maybe find some books about Avery.’’ I suggested. A spark in his eyes ignited. ‘’Yes, If there is anyone who can find that out it’s you.’’ with a broad smile he looked at me. ‘’I can talk to some other people and drop you off at the library.’’ I nodded. ‘’Thanks. I appreciate that.’’ Out of my suitcase I grabbed my notebook and my favorite fountain pen. I never left without the two.

The drive to the library was short, he dropped me off at the Ambrosiana Library. Founded it 1609 and holds some of the oldest manuscripts of the world. I just hoped they would also have something on Avery, how small it might be, any lead could help.

Walking in without a plan, I started looking for books. Henry Avery was an English pirate in the 1600. I took books about Pirates, the Founders, some of Avery’s companions and even a scroll about Libertalia. It didn’t say much but every bit of information was critical.

Hours on end I sat in the library doing research. Once I was in my zone I easily forget to eat, drink or take breaks in general. It was getting later and later but I wasn’t going anywhere, staying in my spot until I found that piece of information that would lead us further.

After two days of searching I finally found something. A resting place that allegedly may or may not have been Avery’s. Located in Scotland. Hyped about my findings I rushed cleaning up and may have misplaced some books. With my notebook clutched in my hands I walked outside and called Rafe. ‘’I found something. Im heading to the hotel now.’’ I said before leaving the building.

Stepping outside in the cold morning air. It was in the dusk of time, I checked my phone and saw that it was five thirty in the morning. The sun was about to set and the stars where still visible in the sky. ‘’I will be there in five, just stay put.’’ I heard Rafe say with a sleepy voice. I completely lost sense of time while I was in the library.

Part 4

Masterlist

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castielismyfavouriteangel · 4 years

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Gentlemen

It was a habit he picked up during his time with Lisa. He opened the car door, he pulled out the chair, he helped with the coat. He just couldn't stop it. But also didn’t really notice it.

But the small smiles it put onto Cas face were worth it. He never said anything, but the fond smiles made Deans knees go weak all the time.

So after a successful hunt Dean - as always - opens the car door for Cas to get in.

“May I ask you something, Dean?” Cas asks.

“Well, technically you just did, but you can ask me another question.” Dean says and winks at Cas while getting into the car himself.

“Why do you always open the car door for me? Or any other door for that matter. I’ve never seen you doing that for someone else, like Sam or Jack. I think the only time I’ve ever seen you doing that, was when you were with Lisa and I was watching over you. So why for me? Is there anything special about me? Don’t you trust me not to scratch the finish of your precious car?”

With every word Cas said Dean felt his heart sink even lower. He hadn’t even realized he was doing all those things. And now that he thought about it, yeah, the only time he did something like that was when he was involved with someone romantically. Was his subconscious trying to tell him something? Did he have deeper feelings for Cas than he thought he had?

He had always deemed Cas somewhat good looking, with his tousled hair that never seemed to stay in one place, the strong jawline with the everpresent stubble, those plump, chapped, pink lips that no chapstick in the world could smooth out. And then there were his eyes. Those beautiful orbs of the bluest blue Dean has ever seen as an eye color.

Holy Crap!!

Dean was in love with Cas!

How come he never noticed it! Cas was his best friend, the one guy that promised to always be there for him, to never leave him. Would it be so bad if there was more than friendship involved? Would Cas even want anything more than friendship?

Dean was majorly freaking out, at least internal, on the outside he’s been sitting in Baby’s drivers seat for the past 5 minutes, staring into the abyss.

“Dean? Are you alright? If I said something to upset you, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t even wanna mention it, but I was wondering what’s going on but I really didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I’m sorry, Dean, please forgive me.”

Cas’ voice carried Deans thoughts back into reality.

“Yeah, no problem, Cas, I was just thinking. Put your seatbelt on.”

Bam! Another detail he usually only tells his s/o.

“Dean, I’m an angel, even without all my powers I couldn’t get killed or even hurt in an car accident.” with a sigh he tried to put the seatbelt on, but struggled until Dean lent him a helping hand.

“Yeah, that might be, but when the police stops us I have to pay the fine for you not being properly beltet.” Dean tells him while putting on his own seatbelt.

On the whole ride back, which took several hours, the two didn’t say a single word, but Dean was thinking a lot. Thinking about all the times he was alone with Cas and what he did, that he usually only did if he’s in love with someone. And the list was long, very long.

Apparently he’d been falling in love with Cas without even noticing. But when did that all start? Was there ever a time he wasn’t like this? Did he fell in love at the very beginning? But he wasn’t gay? Well, maybe he was a little gay. There was his Dr. Sexy obsession and that guy that kinda catfished him with the Golem, what was his name? Aaron Something. It didn’t matter.

But how would he talk to Cas about that?

Hey, Cas, just uh, I think I’m in love with you, so...you wanna make out or something?

Yeah, no, that was bullshit. He had to smooth into that particular conversation, it was a sensitive topic after all, he could lose his best friend about this.

Dean let out a heavy sigh when he finally parked Baby in the Bunker’s garage.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I really didn’t want to upset you with that question.” and without a look in Deans direction Cas got out of the car and into the Bunker.

Dean let his head fall onto the steering wheel.

Great!

This was going to be one hell of a conversation.

The next evening Dean made two large cups of hot chocolate, he knew how much Cas loves that stuff, and went over to Cas room to have a - probably - rather unpleasant conversation.

Since his hands were full with the cups he used his foot to knock, it kinda worked, after all Cas opened the door, even if with a puzzled look on his face, which quickly turned into a happily surprised one, once he noticed what Dean was carrying.

He took one of the cups out of Deans hands and waved his arm into the room to invite him in. Dean did, sat down on the foot end of Cas’ bed and patted his hand on the empty space besides him, so Cas would sit down there, which he promptly did while sipping his cocoa.

“What brings you here bearing gifts, Dean?” Cas asked, again with the puzzled look on his face.

“Well, I need to talk to you about something.” Dean started but Cas interrupted.

“Is it about the question I asked you yesterday? If so you don’t have to say something, I understand.” now it was Dean’s turn to be surprised.

“You do? But how? I only just realized it yesterday myself? How could you have known about this?”

“I know a lot more about you than you think, Dean. I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t just tell me you just like to be a gentleman from time to time? It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything and I really appreciate the gesture.” Dean actually snorted with laughter.

“You…” he fell into a giggle fit. “You thought I just wanna play the gentlemen once in a while?”

“Well, yeah. Sam would just give you a hard time about it and Jack wouldn’t know how to appreciate the gesture, he does kinda lack the knowledge about some finer social norms.” Cas did his adorable head tilt while saying this and Dean’s heart began to practically glow.

“I’m sorry, Cas, but you’re very far away from the truth here.” Cas brows furrowed while still having his head slightly tilted. Dean just wanted to kiss him then and there, but he first had to finish this conversation.

“The actual truth is...I don’t even know how to start with this,” Dean paused for a moment and recollected his thoughts.

“You made a comparison yesterday, that you only ever saw me doing that when I was with Lisa. And after some thinking I came to the same conclusion, I only ever did all that with someone I was romantically involved with.” he put some emphasis on that word specifically, hoping Cas would get the hint.

“Well, yeah, I know what I said. But that just fits into my conclusion. You miss having someone you can care about and - well - pamper a little, so you took me as a substitute. I don’t mind it, Dean, I rather really appreciate it.” there was this amazing Cas-Smile Dean could never have enough of.

“No, Cas, you’re still wrong. I don’t ‘use you’ as a substitute for something I’m missing." he actually did the air quotes.

“It’s rather I realized you have kinda become that kind of person I usually do all those things for.” he smiled at Cas who was still looking at him with furrowed brows.

“I don’t think I can follow, Dean. What kind of person did I become? I’m fairly sure I’m still the same person I was when I raised you from hell. I didn’t change. Well, I did change periodically, but I always became myself again in the end, didn’t I?”

Internal Dean was laughing, but not to hurt Cas’ feelings he kept his outside face straight.

“Cas, stop thinking so hard about this. What I was trying to say is, I think you’ve become the kind of person I’d like to be with. Like, really be with. Be with in a romantical way.” Dean couldn’t look at Cas any longer. The fear of seeing his face change into something like aversion or even disgust was too much to handle for him. He flinched when he felt Cas hand on his chin, guiding his face so he would look at him again.

The look on Cas’ face was nothing like what Dean was afraid of. It was soft and pure and Dean would’ve sworn he even saw the glistening of tears in the corners of Cas’ eyes.

“Oh Dean.” it was just shy from a whisper.

“Why did it took you so long to realize this? I always told myself you don’t feel this way about me and that I should stop hoping for you to come around.” Cas thumb was slightly caressing Dean’s jaw while he was talking.

“You wanna know why I volunteered to get you out of hell? I’ve been watching you, or rather watching over you, for quite some time already, and when you went to hell I was heartbroken. But then we got the command to raise you and I couldn’t have let anyone else get you out of there. And ever since I’ve been secretly pining for you, hoping that one day you’d return my feelings.”

There was a look on Cas face Dean had never seen on him before. It was a look he had last seen on his mother’s face. It was pure and unconditional love.

“I fucking love you, Cas” was everything Dean was able to say before he took Cas face into his hands and kissed him with a passion he never even kissed Lisa with.

@bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 @pray4jensen

#Monday 2: Gentleman #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Ficlet #SPNStayAtHome #Writing #My writing #Destiel #Fluff #Castiel #Dean Winchester

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wistfulwisteriawitch · 3 years

Text

Arthur Morgan x Lilith Vallent OC: Vas Ura (My One)/ Vas Soluna (My Bonded) Part 01 Chapter 03: Colter

Part 01 Chapter 03: Colter

I managed to get myself set up, knowing we’d actually be going after John since he was still missing. Attaching the leather over bust corset riddled with knives as well as the leather leg guards I exhaled, it would be interesting to see what they thought of our way of doing things but they seemed rather accepting thus far.

And as we moved to go out, Abigale grabbed my sleeve. “Miss Vallent?”

“Yes Abigale?”

“John…”

“Oh the gentleman that you said was your sons father?”

“Yes…”

Arthur had walked into the room and was warming himself by the fire. “Where’s little John gotten off to?”

“Arthur he hasn’t been seen in a couple days, I fear the worst.”

“John is fine, he gets himself out of scrapes all the time.” Arthur huffed. "Granted he could throw himself on the ground and miss so that's a feat in and of itself."

I cocked a brow, “I’ll go find him.” I pat her arm, “I can track him.”

Arthur groaned, “I’ll go with ya.”

“How kind.” I grinned as I walked by, Hosea nudged me as I sidled by with a smirk and a whispered thank you.

“I’ll come too!” Javier noted. “John would do the same for me and Arthur.”

“Sure, might be good considering the wolves.”

“Wolves?” Javier asked as we mounted up.

I nodded, after ensuring I had everything needed including shotgun with slugs. “Yes, alright you two, flank me, head forward in a V position, and try to keep it unless we head up the mountain, in that case line up.” With that I spurred Luna into a gallop. “Let’s go! Belladonna shadow!”

“Aye Milady!” And with that her horse charged off into the wilderness.

“Shadow?” Arthur inquired as we moved at a quick pace.

“She’ll scout ahead, and send Aristotle if she finds something.”

“And that is—“ A screech above as a Ferrugius Hawk soared past.

“She is skilled in Falconry, her family learned for many years in her home country. Normally their line uses Peregrine, but him...he's been with Belladonna alone, and each member has their own Falcon breed. Birds like that are the largest of hawks to be used for Falconry. And he is quite protective. She found him in Mexico.”

“Ha!” Javier seemed a bit stunned, “you all keep surprising us.”

“We are a surprising people. Javi.” I managed to find John’s trail and exhaled, “fuck he went up the mountain.” Just like the game.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “just like him to have someone dig his ass out of snow.”

I sighed, “Arthur take the middle, Javier take the front, I’ll watch the back.” And with a chiding look as he glanced over his shoulder. “This is what family does.” I noted as we lined up and began to trek up the mountainside, myself taking the end. “Javier do you see where the trail picks up?”

“Yes, he headed up this way.”

“We’ll have to leave the horses.” Arthur noted and I agreed, we got off and began to make our way further along a cliffside. “John!” Javi shouted.

“HELP! DOWN HERE!”

With that I took off, making sure to keep my movements swinging forward to help me trudge through the snow faster. “Mister Marston?” I called finding him on the ledge. “Awe poor puppy.”

“Puppy?! Who in the fuck are you?”

“A friend. Hold the fuck still. We don’t need you bleeding and bringing a bear. Wolves are a pain in the ass enough.” I gathered what I needed from my satchel and made him down a few tonics and salved him up with an antiseptic solution of old mans beard and golden thread. “That will have to do for now, I’ll need to draw any infection out at the cabin. Alright, come on.” I gripped under his arm and hauled him up. “Arthur!”

They were there reaching for him, Arthur laughing, “well now Marston, looks like ya got yer head ate by wolves. How much’a yer brains did they get?”

“Shut up Morgan.”

“You gonna have to come up with a better story for those scars.”

“Getting half eaten by wolves ain’t enough?”

“We got company gentlemen!” I shouted, ”Javier, Arthur— get him to the horses!”

“I got you.” Arthur had one shot down in seconds as the others charged down the slope.”

“BELLA!” A shrill whistle as a large hawk circled over head and dove into the eyes of one of the wolves screeching.

A black streak of horse and woman charged forward from behind us as she leapt off it's back, her body clad in leather padding as she took the tackle of a she-wolf head on while I dodged and sliced a death blow to a jugular. “Come on ya wee bitch!” Bella roared plunging a blade into it’s throat.

Aristotle soared high, blood splattering from his talons and across his feathers as Bella let out a snarl of glee when the final wolf was downed by a blade thunked into it’s throat.

Arthur shot down the final one, sighing and glancing at the two of us. “Remind me never to make her angry.” He mused as Bella ruffled Aristotle’s feathers and set him loose again, “that is a big bird.”

“He’s a beauty inn’e?” Bella asked fluffing her hair out and wiping blood off her face. “We ready?”

“Yes, John how you holding up?” I asked.

“Feel drunk.”

“Good that means it’s working.”

“Oh joy.” Was the sarcastic reply.

We managed to make it down the mountain, Belladonna staying to get the meat and pelts from the wolves.

“She gonna be alright?” Javier asked.

“Worry about the woodland creatures who piss her off.” I laughed.

“Bella?” Belial asked as we rode in, “ah…hunting.” He chuckled and walked off back towards the kitchen area.

Arthur sighed and leaned over to speak to me, “watch the golden boy not get a scolding despite holding up a job.”

Dutch of course was ecstatic John was back and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Siblings?” I asked smiling.

“We both was raised by Dutch and Hosea. They taught us to read.”

“Awe, I can see that.” I smiled wide at him, and he returned with a shy smile back. He gets a bit of a playful look, “you know for someone so small you sure as hell take up a lot of space.” He sniffs and cocks a brow.

“You know for someone so big you can curl up on the edge of a bed real easy. Next time just huggle-up and I won’t have to latch on like a damn possum.”

It was the first time he genuinely laughed. “I’ll remember that little wolf.” He was glancing over my gear and had a look of confusion.

“Leather, protects quite well.”

“What ya goin to war?” He poked my arm guards and outer leg guards as well as the leather corset flicking a knife handle.

“Life is war.” I tilted my head.

“Hmph, ain’t that just bout right.”

As I was about to ask what he meant Belladonna zoomed into camp with furs and blood all over her. “I’m back!” She said prancing off her stallion Bairn.

I chuckled, “welcome back sister.”

“Didja see the pelt on that she-wolf?” She crowed tugging it off her horse, “it’s like ya hair milady, I should make a new cloak and we can trade.”

“I would like that thank you Bella.” She grinned and whistled for Aristotle who landed on her thickly gloved forearm. “There’s a good boy.”

Everyone in camp balked.

“Wah ya never seen’a damn bird afore?” She scoffed. “Come on pretty boy.” She was feeding him strips of wolf, “lessee what ya da is up ta.”

I rolled my eyes. “You get used to her.”

“Body can get used to anything…”

“Even hanging.” I finished and we laughed walking over to Hosea and Dutch.

“Got anymore maidens that need saving?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Hosea chuckled. “Thanks you three.”

“Javier tipped his hat and walked off as Arthur joined me in the cabin where Abigale tended to Marston.

“Alright, lemme work.” I shooed most people away, and grinned. “Marston this is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“Ya aint gotta look like ya gonna enjoy it!”

Arthur chuckled, “I will.”

“Of course you would.” John muttered.

I forced willow bark tea down his throat, irrigated the wound with stinging solutions of horsetail and once it was cleaned I made a salve and packed it with bandages. “Don’t touch it. You’ll have a mark but congratulations you were chosen to bear them by a powerful creature. In our ways it means you are protected.”

“Sure felt like that when they bit me.”

“They could have killed you.” I said softly. “But they did not. They left. Think upon that. I do not play with coincidence or dice to tell me my fate rather that things happen for a reason.”

John pondered and cracked a slight grin. “Guess so.”

“Either way, get rest, I shall have Bel bring food, you need to gather your strength to heal.”

“Thank you.” Abigale clutched my hand tight and I nodded, “let Jack see his Pa.” I leveled a gaze at John, “I am sure he was quite worried for his father.”

John seemed to squirm under my direct gaze and I softened it before leaving.

“What was that?”

“It seemed there was some tension in regards to little Jack.” I said.

“That obvious?” Arthur huffed an annoyed sound.

“Yes, but Marston is young, he can learn.”

Arthur glanced me up and down, “hm.” Was all he said.

I really wished I could get into his head sometimes.

— - - - - - - - - - - -

Arthur grumbled, “some people learn too late.” And he walked away, his chest heavy with memories long past. “Other’s should be so lucky.”

She caught his hand, “Arthur, despite that lessons can be passed down to prevent more pain.” Her voice is soft, and that damned look she gives him— it’s not pity, he couldn’t stand it if it was but this is somehow worse— she has an air of understanding, an acceptance about her with him as if whatever he lays at her feet is perfectly fine.

“Maybe so.”

That hand retreats, she seems to be thinking as she chews her bottom lip looking at her feet for a moment.

“S-sorry I know I probably—“

“S’fine.” He assured her rubbing the back of his neck. “Just a hang up he and I have had.”

Lilith nodded, “my brother and I had something similar happen.”

“Oh?”

“Yes…but we managed to talk it out.” Arthur lets out a bark of harsh laughter.

“Me and him? Talk? Shoot, ya ain’t known us long but ya gonna see that’s a bit hard for us Van der Linde boys.”

“Oh that’s plain as day Mister Morgan. But as I said, everyone can learn.” A wink as she sauntered off.

“Damn woman.” He grumbles to himself striking a match on his boot to light up a smoke. He couldn’t make heads or tails of her as she checked in with Dutch and asked him several questions, Dutch did seem to be in a better mood, and she was always checking in with him— she said the word was deference. She acknowledged he was leader. But she herself led the two people she had.

Arthur had to admit the way she did things did scream leadership. It was rare to see such things. There wasn’t anything she herself wouldn’t do that she’d ask of others. Mucking a stall, hunting, ensuring people were clothed, mending, healing…Dutch hadn’t done that for a long time but he did get his hands dirty when needed.

It further solidified Arthur’s ideology that if women ran shit it might be a mite better, he glanced at Susan who was chatting with Hosea before she went off to screech at someone for not working hard enough.

Belladonna walked up to him and grinned, offering her hawk, “wanna pet’im, seems ta like ya.”

Arthur was never one to pass up petting an animal.

Shit he’d pet a bear if it wouldn’t rip his damn arm off.

“Sure, Aristotle was it?”

“Mmhm. He had many ideas of the stars that man. Mi’lady said it suited because this hawk could damn near fly to them with these wings.” She kissed the hawk who let out a little chirping sound as Arthur placed a warm finger against it’s chest feathers. The big raptor fluffed his feathers and crooned, leaning forward and nudging Arthur’s hand.

“Here, he likes meat.”

“Here boy.” Aristotle took the piece and gulped it down and flapped his wings before Bella let him go. “He just nests somewhere?”

“Oh aye, he has a mate somewhere, but I canna catch her, she is too fierce. But she hunts with him and has never left his side. They keep the same mates their whole life.” She smiled up at the sky and sure enough, a smaller hawk circled with him swooping and gliding. “Quite a sight.”

“Sure is.” Arthur grinned. “You all keep any other animals?”

“Oh aye, you should see the family wolves.”

Arthur paused as he walked by, “beg pardon?” He furrowed his brow.

“Milady found a pack of wolves who’s cubs were abandoned. She took them all in, they are the sweetest, deadly, but they are the comfiest things to snuggle with. Sometimes all four of them are with her.”

“And these are….ah…”

“No here. They in the wilds probably hunting, somewhere up north west in the Grizzlies. They look different, no from here. Timber wolves from the west. Darker coats. Then the wolf dogs…all except for Talla—they look like they wolf kin. She is almost a strawberry color but she’s half wolf and half some big dog from Alaska.”

“Been round a lot.”

“Aye, we been all over. The wolves are bout five or so now. Talla and her siblings are with her brothers, she breeds them.”

“Breeds wolves.”

“Just for the family.”

“Ah.” This family got weirder and weirder, “they guard? The wolves not the half breed ones.”

“No no, wolves are quite timid despite people thinking they fierce, unless the family is attacked, they no just go about attacking randomly, Talla and her siblings though, they were bred with a type’a dog that will protect their master anywhere, any time. Talla especially, her mate is a full wolf, but she is far fiercer than he.”

Arthur laughed, “you talk like they people.”

“You talk to yer horse like it’s people.”

She had him there. He kicked at the snow. “Never knew an animal to dislike it.”

Belladonna grinned, “you ken for a scary bastard, ye pretty nice.”

“Don’t know nuthin bout that.” Arthur snorted as he walked off.

Dinner was a lighter affair now that John was back, everyone celebrated with some whiskey and a meal of wolf steaks and deer meat. Arthur watched as everyone milled around, chatted, and tried to liven their spirits, the deaths of ones close still loomed— as did the damn frost.

Some spring this turned out to be.

He glanced at the three strangers who had dropped into their lives as he scribbled.

It is rather strange to be in the company of wolves.

I find that they are a gentle people unless provoked, despite their appearances, the females are far more aggressive then their male counterparts, as Belial seems to have a very playful nature, they all do in fact. Shoving at one another as they walk in the snow to push the other into a drift. Or leaping onto one another’s backs as they run off.

I have only seen wolves play once, when I came across a den by accident when the welping season came. Indulgent and confident in my spot I had used binoculars to watch a game of tag played by the pack. It is of similar air.

Hosea is doing alright, but I know the dark haired woman named Lilith is concerned, he is coughing a lot, and his breathing is labored, he stays indoors mostly under her direction, and she’s been shoving tonics into his mouth whenever he allows it. Seeming hell bent on keeping him alive.

John is alright, a pain in my backside still, but he’s lucky to be alive. … We all are.

Not sure what in hell happened on that boat, but whatever it was it weren’t good. Charles heard that a girl died. Dutch outright shot her…saying it needed to be done….

That ain’t like him…

The red head reminds me of Sean, I wonder where that Irish bastard got off to. Knowing him he’s probably found trouble. Davey…Jenny….Both gone in a matter of weeks….We lost folks before but not like this— so needlessly. They are calling it the Blackwater Massacre.

This family is strange, stranger still is the kindness they show everyone. It is gentle, despite their steel hard spines and unwavering eyes…unnerving eyes.

Eyes that gleam when they look at ya, like a beast’s catching firelight in the dark.

She looked at Micah as if he were nothing but an ant to be pitied for facing a mountain.

Wonder what that’s like….ain’t never said I was confident, I can fight with the best of em…

But I have a feeling this woman could give me a run for my money…

Half inclined to piss her off and find out…

#Arthur Morgan #My One/ My Bonded Part 01 Colter Ch 3 #My One/ My Bonded #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #red dead redemption

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alj4890 · 4 years

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None But You

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) in a regency era romance as requested by @pixieferry

A/N So sorry once again. Holidays and multiple bouts of sickness kept me from finishing this chapter. But here we are, the first night of the house party and one where Thomas and Amanda are ready to share their engagement with their nearest and dearest. Everything should go swimmingly. Maybe. We will take up immediately following the end of chapter 8.

@graceful-popcorn @krsnlove @alleksa16 @hopelessromantic1352 @pixieferry @emceesynonymroll @buzz-bee-buzz @hopefulmoonobject @cora-nova @rainbowsinthestorm @lxaah11 @dr-nancy-house @friedherringclodthing @aworldoffandoms @ab1901 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker

Summary: Lord Hunt asks for permission to marry Lady Amanda. While many are happy for the couple, there are a few that aren't as thrilled with the announcement.

Masterlist

Chapter 9

"I am not allowing that lecher to ruin our announcement." Thomas whispered. He nodded over to Lady Lucy speaking to Lady Henrietta and Lord Gabriel Rawlings. "Let's go speak to your aunt."

Amanda averted her eyes from Duke Vikotr Montmarte. She kept her hand firmly on Thomas's arm and tried to regain that earlier happiness she had when first approaching the house.

"...Timothy earned a first in--" Gabe paused speaking when the couple approached. "Kirkwood. Lady Amanda. Is something amiss?"

"No sir." Thomas allowed his frown to ease as he gazed down at the lady beside him. "I come to ask Lady Lucinda for her blessing to marry Lady Amanda."

Henrietta and Lucy both gasped in surprise.

Having known the two women for longer than anyone else in the room, Gabe chuckled. "I believe I can discern from that gulp of air that you have received said blessing. Allow me to be the first to congratulate you." He shook Thomas's hand and affectionately kissed Amanda's cheek. "I wish you both all the happiness I have been fortunate to have with my wife."

Henrietta took her husband's handkerchief out of his coat pocket and dabbed her eyes. "Oh Gabe! Why do you persist in saying romantic gibberish when I am around people? You know it turns me into a sentimental ninny!"

He rolled his eyes to Thomas while wrapping his arm around her. "There, there. I will do my utmost to be a dull, unfeeling husband."

"You do and it will be the last thing you ever do!" She bit out before kissing his cheek. "I don't want you to change."

"Then we are of like mind." He whispered. "For I wouldn't have one hair on your head change." He brushed a corkscrew curl behind her ear. "Perhaps that one."

"Oh! You--" she gently smacked his hand. "Congratulations dear ones. With your permission, I would like to announce it before dinner."

"Aunt Lucy?" Amanda reached out and touched her suspiciously silent aunt. "Do you approve?"

Lucy hugged her tight. "Approve?! My darling, I am in alt over this news! I have hoped you two would realize you were right for one another." She reached over and grasped Thomas's hand. "I will be very proud to call you, nephew."

"I will be proud to be referred to as such." Thomas replied, his earlier joy at having secured Amanda's hand started to return with these reactions to his news.

"I should tell Millie before it is announced." Amanda whispered. "I do not wish her to think I have withheld any secrets from her."

Gabe caught his daughter's eye and motioned for her to come over.

"Yes father?" Millie's curiosity had spilled over in her tone while observing all the happy faces.

"Lord Thomas and I are betrothed." Amanda told her in a low voice.

"Oh!" Millie embraced her while reaching for Thomas's hand to squeeze. "I am very happy for you both!" Her big blue eyes grew even larger. "The wedding! We must use this time together to make all the decisions!"

Lucy laughed sweetly. "Hen you have raised a highly intelligent young woman. I am relieved to know that when you and I become senile, our girls can carry on our work."

Henrietta beamed at her daughter. "She is and has always been a treasure. I could not be more proud."

Millie teared up and asked her father for his handkerchief. He sighed in resignation as he handed it over. "I haven't had possession of my own handkerchief for over twenty-five years."

Lucy snorted and nearly choked on her laughter at the identical expressions of irritation on his ladies' faces.

"Don't strangle me yet." He held his hands up in surrender. "I have the honor to announce this couple's news."

________________

Over dinner, the guests continued to congratulate the couple on their engagement. Lady Hen would go on for years saying how it had set a more excited tone for the young people attending. It was clear to all that this was a love match and thus gave many of the unattached ladies hope that the gentlemen would feel inclined to follow in Lord Hunt's footsteps.

There were a small number of guests that were not as enthused with the shared joy. Ms. Fontaine sat with slightly narrowed eyes as her lips firmed in a thin line. Lady Amanda had not only stolen all the attention with this announcement but she had also snagged one of the ton's most nortorious and most sought after bachelors.

Duke Montmarte didn't bother to hide the glare he settled on the two. He was still smarting from Thomas and Matthew's interference the night of the recital. He could not let such an insult go.

Once the ladies left to allow the men their cigars and after dinner libations, Montmarte apporached Thomas. Conversations trailed off around the dining room as many were eager to hear what the duke would say.

"Congratulations Kirkwood." Viktor's lips curved into a mocking smile. "Having known the lady, I can see why you wished to settle the engagement quickly." His smile turned a bit sinister. "Wouldn't want to allow her a chance to meet a more desirable gentleman."

Thomas gripped his glass of port and nodded. "You are correct." His own smile was strained. "I don't believe in taking anything for granted with Lady Amanda."

"It does make one wonder." Montmarte looked around the room, drawing the other men into the conversation. "Why the hurry in proposing? You have been seen pursuing the lady, even when she was ill. I don't recall anyone hindering your courtship." He paused for dramatic effect. "I don't suppose you and she...surely not."

"Watch your tongue, Montmarte." Ryan warned at the badly veiled insult of Amanda and Thomas precipitating their marriage vows.

"I suggest you cease wondering." Thomas continued in a serious tone. "I am the one who sees no reason to wait. I came to the realization that no other woman would do."

"I see." Montmarte leering grin appeared. "Perhaps I should have insisted on spending more time in her company." He chuckled at the anger growing among Thomas and his friends. "You might all be toasting my happiness at having captured the lady."

"Thank heavens Kirkwood had the good sense to not let that occur." Matthew replied with much laughter from those around him. "Think of the unsavory gentlemen Lady Amanda could have encountered."

Montmarte's eyes narrowed at the insult.

Lord Rawlings cleared his throat to break the tension. "Gentlemen I suggest we do not keep the laides waiting any longer."

_________________

"Hmm." Millie sat beside Amanda as they listened to Lucy and Henrietta plan out possible wedding dates. She jumped into the conversation when the matrons paused. "I believe given Lord Hunt's decision to ask Amanda after such a brief courtship, he will most likely appreciate the wedding being as soon as possible."

Lucy nodded slowly. "True." Her gray green eyes rested on her niece. "My dear, do you wish for a long engagement or would you rather marry within the next month or so?"

Amanda's cheeks colored. "If Lord Thomas is of like mind, then I would prefer being married as soon as we can."

Henrietta smiled at her. "I was of the same mindset."

Lucy giggled behind her fan. "If I recall, you even hinted for an elopement to Gretna Green."

"Mamma!" Millie stared at her mother in shock. "Did you really think of running off to Scotland for a rushed ceremony?"

Hen elbowed Lucy for revealing such. "It crossed my mind." She softly groaned at her daughter's eyes lighting up with interest. "I did not wish to wait on the banns being read nor all the fuss my mother was making over the ceremony."

"I believe," Lucy prodded, "that you and Gabe even planned on leaving in the middle of a ball."

"Mamma!" Millie gasped again. "What did Grandmother do when she found out?"

"She didn't find out." Hen muttered. "Your grandfather did."

Millie covered her mouth as her eyes grew wide. "Grandfather discovered the plot? How?"

"He overheard your father speaking to Lord Nicholas about the need for subterfuge." Hen squirmed a bit in her seat as she recalled her father's response. "He decided to wait for us in Gabe's carriage."

Lucy chuckled at the blush staining her friend's cheeks. "Needless to say, the wedding was held six weeks later, as originally planned."

Hen blew out a frustrated breath. "I found out that if I had told Father that I wanted to marry sooner, he would have sent for a special license. Yet since I was willing to do something so scandalous, I was forced to wait the appropriate amount of time."

Millie slumped in the chair she was sitting in. "My own mother, ready to run off with the man she was passionately in love with."

"Yes, well." Henrietta began. "It did not happen and we should focus on Amanda and Kirkwood."

"Maybe they could elope to Gretna Green." Millie teased.

"And deny me a wedding?!" Lucy exclaimed. "As much as I am ready to see the two settled, I would prefer to have some sort of ceremony."

"How about a special license?" Hen teased. "Then you could have a wedding and they could be together that much sooner."

"I'm not opposed to Lord Thomas aquiring one from the archbishop." Lucy replied.

Millie turned her bright eyes toward her friend. "Would you like that?"

Amanda's blush answered it as she struggled with how to say that she would.

They all looked up as the men returned. Thomas scanned the room and smiled softly when he saw Amanda. As he began to approach, Viktor beat him to her.

"Ladies." He bowed before them. "I came to offer the bride to be my personal congratulations." He took Amanda's hand, leering a bit when she tried to remove it. "May you have all the happiness you deserve."

"Thank you, your grace." Amanda responded while attempting not to show her disdain when he kissed her hand.

She looked up when Thomas came around and placed his hands on her shoulders. The gentle squeeze he gave relaxed her as the Duke narrowed his eyes.

"And what date have you settled on?" He asked.

"We have yet to decide." Amanda glanced up at Thomas. "We do have some possibilities in mind, but I should like to hear what Lord Hunt wishes."

"Ah." The Duke cut in Thomas explaining how he would prefer it being as soon as they could. "Best lock her in her room, Lady Bridgerton." His eyes dipped down to Amanda's cleavage. "Wouldn't want the bridegroom to abscond with her to Gretna Green."

Thomas eyed him in silent contemplation. "I don't think my intended should worry about such."

"One never knows what passions may do to the mind." Viktor smirked. "She might even realize after bring in close proximity to a number of gentlemen here that there is another she should run off with."

Amanda gasped in outrage. "I would never!" She dislodged Thomas's hands as she quickly stood up. She completely disregarded the fact that Viktor towered over her. "How dare you insult my faithfulness to Thomas? You clearly have no notion of fidelity when in love."

He slowly smiled at her temper. "Of course. How foolish of me." He bowed his head and walked off.

Thomas gripped Amanda's hand while telling Lucy they were stepping outside.

Once they were in the garden, she jerked her hand from his grasp.

"That--that--" she stuttered as her temper snapped completely. "Despicable monster that dares to call himself a gentleman!"

Thomas folded his arms and watched her without a word as she paced and heaped insults upon Viktor.

"--doesn't deserve the attention of a flea!"

His lips curved as her insults turned toward complimenting him in comparison to the Duke.

"He isn't fit the honor of wiping your boots!" She let out a startled yelp when Thomas pulled her into his embrace.

She automatically slid her arms around his neck, making him smile. His lips brushed hers, pulling her even closer when she kissed him.

After their tender exchange, he continued to keep her in his arms. "We will ignore Montmarte. He only wishes to steal what joy he can from us. With your immediate refusal of his attentions and my apparent dislike of him, he is determined to have some sort of vengeance on us."

"Hateful man." She muttered, resting her cheek on Thomas's chest. "I can't believe his carriage broke down and we are now punished with his repulsive company."

Thomas chuckled softly as he nudged her chin up. He looked down into her eyes as he caressed her cheek. "What date can we marry?"

"That all depends on whether or not we want a special license." Her earlier anger disappeared with the thought of her marriage.

The back of his fingers trailed down her cheek. "I will apply to the archbishop at once if you wish for me to do so."

Her smile slowly appeared. "I would prefer to be married as soon as we can if you wish it also."

His lips landed on hers. "Nothing could make me happier." He whispered.

"Already planning on running off?"

They both turned toward the duke. His cheroot glowed menacingly as he took a long draw. Smoke swirled around him as his dark eyes studied the two. "Careful Kirkwood." His eyes focused on Amanda. "You don't want to scare such an innocent with your passions." He dropped the thin cigar and crushed it under his boot. "She might decide to disappear on you one night."

He left them and returned to the house.

________________

Once Amanda left with Thomas, Millie quickly looked about to make certain Victoria hadn't attatched herself to Ryan, Matthew, or Chris.

"Drat." She mumbled. With a practiced smile, she calmly moved in a determined fashion toward Ryan.

"Oh Lord Summers, you are full of mischief." Victoria teased, lowering her long lashes.

Ryan eyed her skeptically. "Well, it was the only way to beat Winters."

Chris chuckled good naturedly. "I only wish I had thought of it first.

Millie squeezed in between Victoria and Ryan. "Hello." She smiled at the men then glared pointedly at Victoria. "Everyone enjoying themselves?"

"Very much so," Matthew replied.

"What are the plans for this week, m'lady?" Chris asked.

"Oh the usual: A ball, horseback riding, hunting for you gentlemen, games, and of course a picnic or two." Millie responded.

"Well, we certainly won't be bored from lack of activity." Ryan teased.

"I bet you are a marvelous shot, Lord Summers." Victoria cooed.

"He's passable." Millie observed. "Sir Christopher is much more accurate."

Ryan frowned at Millie. "I believe I rate more than merely passable."

She gently patted his chest. "Of course you think that."

His eyes narrowed when he realized she had somehow added insult to injury.

"I for one would love to see you in action." Victoria interrupted their staring at one another. "Perhaps you could teach me how to shoot--"

"You pick up the weapon and aim it at the desired target." Millie rolled her eyes. "Pull the trigger and you are done." She mumbled the rest. "Any normal idiot can shoot."

"But to have such an expert as my teacher." Victoria stepped closer to Ryan, making certain to dig her heel into Millie's skirt, ripping it.

"Oh no!" Victoria raised her hands to her cheeks. "How terribly clumsy of me!"

Millie opened her mouth to tell Victoria to go directly to blazes. Ryan cleared his throat and slowly shook his head.

"It is no matter." Millie bit out. "If you all will excuse me, I am going to retire for the night."

Goodnights were spoken by the gentlemen while Victoria smirked in triumphant. She slipped her hand in the bend of Ryan's arm and looked up at him with adoration.

Millie grumbled as she departed the drawing room. "Blasted, horrible wench."

________________

Thomas paced in his bedroom, pausing every few minutes when he heard a noise in the hallway. His mind replayed over and over all the remarks Montmarte had made.

He didn't know if it was intuition or simple fear, but he knew he had to somehow get into Amanda's bedroom. He suspected that the Duke intended to take her away.

As the clock struck midnight, he sneaked out and quietly crept toward the wing where she slept. He knew if discovered, there would be a scandal, perhaps not as serious as one would think. After all, he had made his intentions known to everyone. Still, he didn't want any unwarranted blemish associated with Amanda.

He gently knocked on her door before trying the handle. His frown formed when it opened. She should have bolted the door, he thought while stepping in. He turned and locked himself in before checking on her

He saw a shadow move out of the corner of his eye as he approached the bed. He just managed to catch Amanda's wrist before she bludgeoned him with a candlestick. He yanked her to him while holding her wrist high.

"It's me!" He hissed.

The wild look of fear in her eyes faded. "What are you doing sneaking into my room?"

His arms dropped as she moved to light a candle. "I wanted to make certain you were...well."

She folded her arms and lifted an eyebrow. "And?"

"And, I believe Montmarte might attempt to steal you away and possibly force your hand in marriage."

Her stance eased. "Oh." She walked over to the fireplace and curled up in one of the chairs. "Do sit down."

He sat across from her. His dark eyes narrowed in thought. "You suspected it too."

"I did. That's why I had the bed pillows lumped under the covers and waited in the shadows." Her chin lifted in defiance. "He was not going to be allowed a moment to touch me."

Thomas ran his hands over his face. "You shouldn't have to worry over such." He stood up and removed his jacket and cravat.

Her eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

"I'm staying here." He replied.

"Have you taken leave of your senses? You can't stay in my room all night!"

"I can and will." He stated in a firm tone. "I will make certain to leave before the servants wake." He stepped over to her and pulled her out of her chair. "I'm not leaving you unprotected."

"I have my candlestick." She mumbled as his lips sought hers.

His hands tangled in her long hair as he kissed her. Her arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him close. He lifted his head and urged her to go to sleep before temptation took over his gallantry.

She smiled softly and kissed him once more.

Thomas broke away and nudged her toward her bed. "A man can only take so much." He warned.

"Where do you intend to sleep?" She asked, once in bed.

"In the chair." He stated while forcing himself not to stare at the empty space beside her.

She pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them while studying his expression. "Thomas, you've seen me in bed before. Why are you--"

"You were gravely ill then, thus keeping my mind occupied." He interrupted. "I ask that you please rest." He sat down in a chair that at first he thought was comfortable. Now it felt like it was constructed with rocks.

Amanda watched him as he readjusted multiple times.

"Wouldn't it be easier to keep me from harm if you were directly between the duke and me?" She scooted over and patted the spot next to her that was near the door.

Thomas softly groaned. "Amanda, it will be a large enough scandal if I'm caught in here. If I am found in your bed--"

"You'll be forced to marry me." She finished with a smile.

He knew she wouldn't sleep until he gave in. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself that he was a gentleman, he gave in and took his boots off. Thomas climbed into bed while trying not to think of the one he would be sleeping next to. He snuffed the candle and then made certain to stay on top of the covers.

Amanda laid on her side facing him. "Thank you for coming to protect me."

He turned his head to look at her. "No need to thank me. I will always do what I can to keep you from harm."

She gently cupped his cheek. He closed his eyes at her touch.

Thomas pressed a lingering kiss to her palm.

"I love you, Thomas." She whispered.

"I love you." He said. "More than you could possibly imagine."

Her smile was tender as she wished him a goodnight. She turned over on her other side and closed her eyes, soon falling into a peaceful slumber.

Thomas closed his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to will himself to sleep. He knew it was going to be a miserable night being beside the one he both wanted to protect and desired.

#thomas hunt x amanda #1800s au #thomas hunt #rcd thomas hunt #choices red carpet diaries #none but you #thomas hunt x oc

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caspers-arthur-morgan-imagines · 4 years

Text

One of a Kind

This is a requested one shot from @rexburn12 I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted! I loved writing this little piece and hope you all enjoy it!

Summary:

Someone has been hunting down KKK members and other gangs. The van der linde gang grow worried they’ll run into this threat soon. Whilst out around the area of Rhodes, Dutch and Arthur encounter the creature responsible.

Word count: 2155

____

The saloon was bustling with life. A man sat at the piano playing upbeat tunes that merry, drunken men sang along to. The bartender kept busy with serving the crowd in the building. Working ladies appeasing to some of the lonely gentlemen in the bar and disappearing with them up the stairs. Arthur and Dutch sat among the merry men and women. Both enjoying a drink and a laugh at the fools around them.

“I tell you son, these in-bred lot are something else.” Dutch chuckles before downing his glass of whiskey. Arthur chuckles in response and finishes his drink too.

The pair stand to leave the saloon, calling it a night to head back to camp. Neither man noticing the gaze that followed them as they left. A swig from the bottle and then its slammed back to the table as the figure stands and leaves the saloon out the back.

“Can’t wait to hear the nagging Miss O’Shea is going to give me this time.” Dutch grunts as he mounts onto the Count. Arthur chuckles as he mounts Walker, tapping his neck before they began the ride home.

“I’m sure half the camp is wondering that one, Dutch.” Arthur grins. Earning a side glare from the older gentleman.

They’re ride was smooth and quiet. The night sky full of stars and the full moon. All acting as their light on the road, leading them back home. With all the worries and stresses that had been going around the camp, the pair had enjoyed one evening drinking.

“Hey! Stop right there!” From the treeline appears four men in dirtied uniform. The stink alone from them made Arthur and Dutch pull their horses to a halt to avoid getting closer to them. The four men pointed their guns at the pair as they created a circle around them. Lemoyne Raiders.

“Now gentlemen, I’m sure we can make an agreement here.” Dutch begins. Raising a hand up to try and calm the situation. Arthur kept a keen eye on the two men beside him and in front of him. They were outnumbered by two and would have to think of something quick to get out of this.

“Which one of you have been killing our men?!” The man who spoke before shouted. His gun switching between Arthur and Dutch. The two men give one another a look of confusion. So there was something else hunting down gangs. But it certainly wasn’t them.

“Gentlemen there seems to a case of mistaken identity here.” Dutch chuckles as he looks at the man who spoke. “We are simply two friends enjoying the country-“

“Boss! Something is moving back here!” The man behind Dutch hollers as he turned to the treeline. A wave of panic seems to pass through the four men that surrounded Arthur and Dutch. Their horses were spooked by whatever the man claimed to be between the trees. Arthur patted Walked on the neck, trying to calm him down before he was bucked off.

“It’s the beast!” The man yells from behind Dutch. It is followed by a scream as a black figure dragged him into the shadows. This time Walker does buck Arthur off his back. Causing the man to crash to the mud with a grunt.

The remaining three men were firing round after round into the trees. Trying to save their friend from whatever had him in its clutches. When they stopped to reload, it was silent. Dutch had dropped from the Count to help Arthur to his feet.

A growl tore through the air. All three men tensing and freezing in their place. Arthur and Dutch turned to look at the tree line.

There within the branches were two molten eyes. Burning into the three men that were now scared shitless. Another growl – or was it a roar – came from the creature. The three remaining Raiders started running. Dutch and Arthur still frozen in their place as the beast emerged from the shadows.

The colossal beast was stood on its hind legs. Black fur covered its frame, some standing on end along it’s back and arms. Three thick lines ran down its face, crossing from the right side, over its nose and to its mouth. The mouth parted, baring its teeth in a snarl. It leant down onto all fours, growling in warning as Dutch reached for his revolver. He quickly raised his hands in surrender. The beast turned its head in the direction the Raiders had darted away. A small huff of a satisfaction came from it before turning its eyes back to the two men in front of it.

The beast howled. Tilting its head towards the sky and arching its body. Arthur and Dutch stumbled backwards from the shock it sent through them. Then when the howl started to die down, their eyes widened as the beast before them began to slowly shift. Like smoke had surrounded the beast, entangling itself around its frame and shifting its bones into a new alignment. The creature shrunk half a foot in size, still towering over the two men. Its claws retracted to hands; its snort pulled back into a human face. The black fur reseeded itself behind the flesh of the man. Until it all stopped and before Arthur and Dutch stood a man.

The man stood bare before them. If they hadn’t have just seen this man change from a beast to man before their very eyes, they would’ve averted their eyes from his naked form.

“Relax. I can smell the fear dripping from you.” The man gave a deep chuckle. He slowly retreated to the trees, bending down to pick up trousers from the ground.

“The name’s Miller.” The man introduces himself as he steps into the trousers. “Logan Miller.” He gives a pleasant smile to the two dumb struck men. Dutch is the first to come out of their confused haze, trying to get a grip on what he had saw.

“Dutch van der linde.” He speaks, still keeping a close eye on Logan. “Mind giving an explanation, son?” Logan laughs at his words as he pulls a brown shirt over his shoulders.

“Gladly. Just don’t call me son again.” Logan chuckles and buttons up his shirt. Arthur was now coming out of his haze as well. He stood on the defensive, knowing he still probably couldn’t take on the man.

“Ever hear stories as child about the men who howl at the moon?” Logan asks as he slips on his boots. Dutch and Arthur look at one another again.

“Literature. Fiction.” Dutch responds.

“But very much real.” Logan sighs as he walks closer to the men. Logan was taller than Dutch and Arthur. The scars that lined his face were prominent and jiggered. His dark hair hung over his forehead and his sapphires were warm and welcoming. A complete contrast to the seven foot monster he just was.

“You the one that been hunting and killing folk?” Arthur speaks up. His voice wavered but didn’t crack with the unsettling fear that pooled in his stomach. Logan’s smile disappears and a frown takes its place.

“Only those who killed my kind. Or those who seem to think its okay with hurting innocent people.” He explains and crosses his arms over his broad chest.

“There’s more of you then?” Dutch inquires with a raised eyebrow. Logan shakes his head and a sadness washes over his features as he looks to the moon.

“I’m the last of my kind.” He mutters then looks back to Arthur and Dutch. “My pack was wiped out years ago by hunters. I haven’t come across any of my kind since.”

The air was solemn then. Arthur and Dutch at a lost for words whilst Logan watched their reactions.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Dutch nods his condolences with his words. Logan smiles and then his attention is drawn to the approaching woman on a horse behind the two men. Dutch and Arthur turn to see Sadie riding up to them with a rifle at the ready.

“You men okay? Heard the gunshots from camp.” Sadie says as she comes to a halt.

“Perfectly well, Miss Adler.” Dutch assures her and then gestures to the man beside him. “This young man saved our lives.”

Logan had been fixated on Sadie as soon as he saw her coming. A heavy feeling in his chest and a gravity pulling him towards her. Sadie climbed down from her horse and closed the distance to join by Arthur’s side.

“Logan?” Arthur and Dutch both snap their heads towards Sadie as she recognises the man before her.

“Miss Adler.” Logan smiles down at the woman. Arthur and Dutch share a look of confusion once again.

“Wait a damned minute.” Arthur speaks up. “You know each other?” He points between Sadie and Logan – who had suddenly become a bashful idiot under the gaze of the woman.

“Yeah. He saved my life when I was a kid.” Sadie replies and smiles fondly at the memory of the wolf that had saved her from a gang that terrorised her family. Logan seems to remember too as he looks down at his boots and scratches the back of his neck. “What are you going out this way? Thought you preferred the grizzles?”

“Followed a familiar scent out this way.” Logan replies and then points to the two dumbstruck men. “Led me to these two. I was quite disheartened when it wasn’t you.”

“Son,” Dutch clears his throat when Logan turns his attention to him. “If I might be so forward, would you care to join us back to camp? Maybe you and Miss Adler can make up for lost time.” Logan smiles at the offer and looks back at Sadie.

“Happily.” He replies and follows them to their horses.

***

It was easy say that Logan didn’t leave the gang after that night. Having found a pack that he could protect again made him feel whole once more. No longer lonely with the fact he was the last of his kind.

The camp was also very welcoming to him. A few of the women – Karen and Mary-Beth – swooned over him.

“Who wouldn’t swoon over that beast of a man.” Karen had said one morning whilst sat with the other ladies mending clothes. Watching a shirtless Logan chopping wood as though he was slicing butter.

Sadie and Logan were very much attached at the hip. Logan following her anywhere that she would go. A lost puppy following its new owner, as Arthur had put it.

The camp were especially pleased when Logan had revealed that Micah had ratted them out to the Pinkertons. Logan never liked Micah from the moment he stepped foot into the camp. Something had seemed off about how he was sulk about and then disappear. Logan followed him one night and saw him with Milton and Ross and was immediately enraged. He spoke with Dutch and it led to the man putting a bullet through Micah’s skull.

They all celebrated that night.

Logan was also the first to notice Arthur’s illness and offered to change him. He gave Arthur time to think it over and in the end, he accepted. It took some time for him to adjust to the changes that he was going through, but with Logan’s help he got through it.

It wasn’t long after joining camp that Logan and Sadie shared their first kiss. The attraction between them was almost suffocating and when they finally acted on it, it was heaven. Sadie also asked to changed. This took Logan sometime to consider, but he finally did, and they were soon mated.

The camp had become family to Logan. They were willing to become wolves after seeing Arthur and Sadie go through it. Logan was the alpha, with Hosea, Dutch and Arthur as his Betas. He finally had a pack again.

Years down the line, the Pinkertons had given up their search for the van der linde gang. They were freed from the previous life they knew. Some chose to become ranchers, like John, Abigail and Jack. Arthur would stay with them and his mate, Freya. Who he had saved from some gang out in the grizzles one winter. Some wanted families of their own and would go looking for their mate. Logan remembered when Tilly came back with a man that she was head over heels for and when the man wasn’t scared of what they were, Logan knew that he would change him for Tilly.

Sadie had given birth to twin boys, Noah and Henry. They were adventurous and brave like their father but compassionate and loving like their mother.

Logan was happy that he had followed Sadie’s scent that day years ago. He had finally gotten the family that he had always longed for. Things were finally okay again for the lone Alpha.

#Red Dead Redemption #Red Dead #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 imagine #red dead remdemption #arthur morgan #dutch van der line #van der linde gang #hosea matthews #john marston #abigail roberts #male original character #werewolf #sadie adler

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ineffablecolors · 5 years

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The Wife [23/24]

The Wife || Ch 23 ~ 4k || Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10 Ch11 C12 Ch13Ch14Ch15Ch16 Ch17 Ch18 Ch19 Ch20 Ch21 Ch22 || FF.NET&AO3

Summary: No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are?

A/N: You all know it’s been 84 years so I just hope this is worth the wait. Just one more after this, which hopefully won't take me another month.

In recent months, Mrs Emma Jones has discovered an extraordinary love for the theatre. This is, in some part, the work of her sister and brother-in-law who first invited her and Killian along to a play – Emma and Elsa both finding Liam’s choice of An Ideal Husband a bit on the nose, much to Killian’s endless amusement. Then there is, of course, Alice and Robyn’s contribution – a rather significant one, considering Alice’s utter fascination with farces and Robyn’s almost cultish dedication to Wilde.

Her husband, however, has been all too willing to sweep all credit for himself, smug and self-congratulatory about the whole affair, and Emma cannot quite comprehend why – or so she says to one and all – it’s not like he invented the stage.

Yes, Killian has rather good taste, an exceptional eye for smaller productions that are about to become everybody’s latest favourite just a week after Captain and Mrs Jones have seen them, and he does know quite a few people – both behind and on stage, though he claims to prefer – and indeed seems to have much better relationships with – the playwrights rather than the actors. Something about men who spend an outrageous amount of their time sequestered in their studies and bent over a small hill of papers flocking together Emma said and received that look from Killian that she so enjoys – part outrage and part amusement, with a thrilling undercurrent of admiration.

Yet, whether or not he deserves credit for her newfound love of the stage, Emma cannot deny enjoying Killian’s unaffected manner of speaking with great playwrights, the lithe way he leads her backstage and introduces her to people that she might have felt inadequate and tongue-tied in front of just a year ago. It’s different now, less nerve-wracking than she would have guessed. Emma is far from the centre of conversation but, when she has an opinion, she puts it forward and the surprise of people listening and considering and sometimes agreeing with her lessens every time. It’s part Killian’s hand – warm and solid on the small of her back, part the atmosphere – a place so out of her old life that she feels unmarred and equal here, and maybe, it’s part her – not afraid to take whatever space her gown requires and voice whatever thought her mind has deemed intelligent enough.

Emma has had more than one rather stimulating and even entertaining discussion in theatre houses in recent months, it’s all rather pleasant and cultured. Most evenings at least. Not that this particular evening is not taking a rather stimulating turn but—

Her back collides with the wall, the sound muted by the plush burgundy curtain that rasps against the hard ridges of her corset’s lacing. Her gasp is also muted by Killian’s tongue sliding over the roof of her mouth and tangling with her own, the rise and fall of her bosom restricted by his proximity and brushing the velvet material of his vest on every deep breath. She is running rather short on those when his mouth slants less than elegantly across her cheek and the cool tip of his nose burrows behind her ear.

“And you were,” Emma takes in a mouthful of air and unconsciously tilts her head and her hips to give him better access to both. “such a gentleman just a minute ago.”

There are voices all around them – audience milling around in the great hall just a flight of small stairs away, actors undressing and bemoaning blunders and missteps and forgotten lines in the dressing rooms a narrow hallway to their left and workers already dismantling the stage décor a few less than solid walls behind.

“I plan to be a gentleman in the minute that follows as well, Mrs Jones.”

She would scoff at the cockiness in his tone – it’s a thrilling discovery when he gets like this sometimes, it’s equally delicious to push back, the smug turn of his mouth that she can now feel against her exposed collarbone. She would, but somehow she must have missed the moment when Killian hitched her skirts up enough to sneak his hand between her legs, so the sound she makes is more of a keen, not quite – she would argue – a wail, and just barely stifled as he presses his wooden hand against her mouth at the same time he slips two fingers inside her.

Emma squeezes her eyes shut and buckles her hips forward and when two fingers become three, she swallows hard and bites down on his leather glove. Killian’s body is like a furnace against hers and she can feel the fine sheen of sweat forming at the back of her neck, under her heavy curls. It takes a minute but when she is sure that she can control the sounds coming out of her mouth, Emma drops her head against the fabric-covered wall behind and makes a valiant attempt to glare at the man who is nosing his way between her breasts and obliterating any hope she might have of looking presentable after this.

“You are a villain, Captain.”

His laughter shakes her whole body and his thumb hits that all-important spot and Emma discovers she doesn’t quite have those sounds under control after all.

“Do you feel wronged, my queen?”

“I feel positively debauched.”

“Debauched, is it? I cannot, in good conscience, say I dislike the sound of that.”

“I— Oh! Killian, please.”

“Please what?”

“Oh! Ooh, you will— you will regret this.”

That makes him pull out of her corset and when his face comes into focus Emma has to admit that she is probably not the only one who looks indecent – Killian’s lips are almost swollen pink, contrasting tantalizingly with his greying beard, and his disheveled hair makes her realize that his sojourn between her breasts was not solely his idea. She doesn’t have precise knowledge of what she looks like herself, beyond that distinct feeling of debauchery, but the flickers in Killian’s eyes tell her that she is a sight indeed.

“No,” he shakes his head and bites his lip as he twists his hand, making Emma bite down on her own bottom lip hard. “No, I don’t believe I will.”

In the end – though this would be merely a precursor rather than an end, if she has any say in the matter – Emma cannot claim she regrets it either. Not when Killian’s hand smooths the layers of her gown over her backside and makes a valiant attempt to brush her hair over her shoulders, not when she presses her lips right against his pulse and steps up close enough to feel the tension he has most definitely not relieved, not when they sneak out of the theatre’s back entrance, laughing and tripping over less than stable limbs.

*****

It’s a thinly veiled ploy – Salome not being to the gentlemen’s taste, Elsa wanting an evening out with the girls before they depart – it’s not a bad ploy, Emma is sure they will have a lovely evening, it just doesn’t do much to divert her attention from the fact that Killian and Liam are staying in for more than brotherly commiserating.

“I don’t think even aunt Elsa wants them to take on more work.”

Emma’s fingers fumble for a second and she extends her pinkie to hook the hairs she dropped and heave them into Alice’s slowly emerging braid. Emma can do her step-daughter’s hair in a few short minutes but it didn’t take long for her to realize that Alice enjoys having her hair combed and twisted into different shapes and styles. Emma still allows her to do her own (she appreciates the time with Alice and the fact that it results in Killian getting to undo it all in the evening) but it’s not hard to convince Alice that they both enjoy this much better.

So, while Robyn is probably already tapping her foot and driving Killian up the wall, Alice and Emma take their time preparing for the outing. Really, Elsa and Liam have yet to arrive so it’s not like they are being particularly inconsiderate.

“Well,” Emma weaves another strand of curly blond hair into the braid circling Alice’s head and bites lightly on her lip. “I do hope she has told him so.”

“Did you tell papa?”

Emma’s lips quirk up.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure your father is in no two minds about how I feel,” Alice tries to twist her head to look at her but Emma keeps her still with a gentle press to her neck. “And you must acknowledge that he has been rather good about it.”

“Oh, yes, of course! I just worry you will be bored while we are away visiting Captain Nemo.”

Belle and Nemo’s wedding just a month prior was a small affair with just over a dozen guests in attendance. It reminded Emma of her own wedding despite the vastly different arrangement between bride and groom. Belle’s wealth and position in society was more than secure and respected and the two had been courting since her and Killian’s visit and, despite the slight sheen of mortification and vulnerability she associates with that time, Emma can’t help feeling somewhat smug for her husband’s sake. Killian can protest all he likes but Emma is now convinced that he has a certain sense about these things and it does not lead him astray.

But while the wedding was quaint, the celebration afterwards is still going a month later. Just last week a letter arrived inviting Alice and Robyn to stay at the Captain’s estate for some time and put their skills with a bow to practical use. Alice is just as eager to see and talk books with Belle again as she is horrified at the idea of hunting with Captain Nemo. The glimmer in Robyn’s eye whenever they talk about it tells Emma that Miss Hood feels somewhat differently about the matter and, frankly, Emma is glad that she will not be around when it all comes to a head.

“While you two have spoiled us for company and entertainment, I’m sure we will find ways to amuse ourselves.”

It’s not exactly sarcastic and it only as the last two words slip out that Emma realizes the less than innocent connotations they might communicate and she reaches quickly for one of the ribbons on the vanity before them.

“But if papa takes on this new—“

“Alice, truly, you needn’t worry about me.”

“Oh, alright. I just meant that… shall you wish to, you’re more than welcome to join us at any time.”

“And leave Killian by himself?”

Touched as Emma is by the offer – they are a particular warmth in her throat, all those little things Alice says and does – she can’t quite manage to temper her outraged tone. She feels Alice’s chuckle in her shoulders.

“God forbid. And that for more than a day apart,” the teasing in Alice’s voice is like a tickle in the air and Emma pulls just a little bit harder than she has to as she secures her braid in place, only making Alice giggle again. “I merely meant that it will give him incentive to not lock himself away for too long.”

“Well, I’m not aiming to “incent”, sweetheart,” Emma leans down and whispers conspiratorially as she finishes off Alice’s hairdo.

“Never?”

Emma considers this with a bemused smile.

“It’s just… Robyn turns such a fetching pink when I’m being difficult.”

Emma laughs so loud that she can hear some impatient grumbling from downstairs.

*****

She enjoys the play immensely, even if a quarter of her mind is always back at home, wondering if Killian and Liam have moved on to the rum and cigars portion of their evening. It’s how they find them an hour later as the girls rush in, chattering endlessly and gesticulating wildly, Alice pulling Robyn before Ruby to illustrate the shape of a gown on one of the actresses that she simply must have (Emma thinks the garment a few notches too risqué but she is amused nonetheless), Granny grumbles and bustles as Elsa asks for a tray of wineglasses and drapes herself over Liam’s shoulders, demanding that he wheedle the best wine from his brother.

Emma just looks at Killian – gently, questioningly, and smiles back when he does. He takes her hand without moving too close, kisses her knuckles and winks over the length of her arm. It’s enough for her to drop bonelessly in the armchair in the corner and enjoy the girls’ antics and Liam’s grumbling about missing all the fun for another hour before Admiral and Mrs Jones take their leave. She even manages to keep her lips pressed firmly together while Killian ushers Alice to bed, promising to go riding with her tomorrow, Granny already prophesying how late breakfast will be.

She makes it all the way to the moment when she slips in bed, watching Killian take off his shirt and his brace, ruffle his hair and down a glass of water, trying to clean out the taste of rum probably. She is more than willing to help him with that as soon as the bed dips under his weight.

“How did Liam’s attack go?”

She feels his laughter as he wraps his arms around her and tugs her close.

“Love, I fear you are still much mistaken about my brother’s position when it comes to business. If we could deal with no one at all and take on as little work as possible, Liam would be most content. Though he probably won’t like balancing the accounts afterwards.”

“Yes, it’s you being the voice of reason that worries me, my heart.”

“Ah,” Killian’s hand slips up the back of her thigh, his fingers spreading to make contact with as much skin as possible. “It seems I’m being quite… unreasonable as well.”

Emma believes that the position she is currently in – with her husband’s leg between her own and his long fingers definitively heading places – justifies the slight delay with which she absorbs his words.

“Y-you are?”

“Aye, terribly unreasonable. Told my brother we should turn down this flush gentleman because my daughter and her lady are going away for a month and I wish to have my wife in every room—“

“Killian!”

“And under every tree in the garden”

“You did not.”

“Mm, not in those precise words but, trust me, my meaning was quite clear.”

“I— Well, then—“

Emma truly – foolishly – believed that the days of being flustered by her husband were behind her.

“Of course,” Killian continues in a nonchalant tone that would annoy her if other things he is currently doing didn’t please her quite so much. “This does not mean that we should let our form slip now.”

His teeth close over the shape of her breast and Emma barely manages to remember that they are not yet alone in the house.

*****

“I’m shamefully happy.”

Killian’s heart lurches and his head snaps around to look at his daughter who is trying to determine how many cherries she can fit in her mouth at once. He knows her record is nine, he also knows he is supposed to scowl and tell her how unladylike the whole thing is. Frankly, he is just still a bit sour that she beat him by one bloody cherry.

“Nothing shameful about it, sweetheart.”

Alice tries to reply around a mouthful of merely five cherries but it’s still enough to be a bit of a disaster. Her eyes widen with a touch of embarrassment and a whole lot of amusement as she pushes her fingers against her lips, chews, spits three pits out, chews, spits another, swallows, squeezes one eye shut in annoyance with the wrong cherries to pits ratio and wipes her hand over mouth.

“It’s shameful, the way having half a dozen cherries at once is,” she says as if this is the most obvious metaphor in the world and Killian grins at her.

“That’s never spotted you before.”

Her grin is cherry-red and awfully smug and he thinks maybe he is shamefully happy as well.

*****

Killian cannot say he doesn’t miss the girls when they set off for Nemo’s estate. There is a certain immutability about the house all of a sudden – a room is always just the same as it was when he last walked out of it now – things actually remaining in their places, no books and bonnets and knickknacks of all sorts appearing seemingly out of nowhere between one moment and the next.

He enjoys the calm to a degree and then his thoughts reel up unexpected – the way Roger does when he feels like he has been confined to a sedate pace for much too long – and rush forward into unexplored territories.

Well, hardly unexplored but certainly tentatively so.

For the first handful of months after Emma convinced him that they should play dice with things Killian would’ve preferred to keep securely within his grasp and control, there was an almost constant hum of tension about him – not quite unwillingness and not just worry but something waiting and anxious and ready to spring. If Emma noticed, she said something by tucking her chin into his collarbone and smoothing her hands over the scars on his side and fitting her knees right behind his and her stomach flat against his back. Emma noticed and she asked if he was certain and then she made good use of his certainty.

And then half a year went by and nothing happened despite their regular and sincere attempts and Killian felt like he could breathe easily again, except for the prickle of guilt at the nape of his neck that he felt like scratching whenever he found Emma curled up before the fire and staring somewhere beyond it.

It wasn’t that he was glad and it wasn’t that he wished for their attempts to amount to nothing. But, when they did, it felt like walking on land again after a turbulent time at sea, when they did, he would sit at the feet of the dying embers and pull her into his lap and tell her that they were alright and maybe this was alright and certainly they could wait and definitely they will remain alright.

And then another two months went by and then another and Emma dug her fingers into his forearms less whenever he sat behind her and wrapped himself around her. There is a certain melancholy about her for a couple of days every month but it doesn’t seem to mount, to build every month, it seems like the tide – coming and going with a regularity, inevitable but not drowning.

It takes almost a year for Killian to start feeling it, the way his thoughts yank the reigns a bit to the side, towards a path that he realizes part of him expected to walk eventually, whether he was prepared or not. It doesn’t change anything outward – he has been steadfast in his decision to trust Emma from the start, it’s just that now – after expectation has been quietly simmering between them without bubbling over for some time, after the girls have reminded him of things he seems better equipped for than he remembers – he is starting to trust himself as well.

Three days after Alice and Robyn depart, he realizes his thoughts have stopped right before that path of wanting and have been trumping their hooves in place for some time now.

*****

It takes a solid hour for Ruby and Killian’s combined forces – Emma sipping her tea on the side and observing their efforts with unmasked glee – to finally prevail over Granny. Eventually, begrudgingly, Mrs Lucas allows Killian to dismiss the whole staff for a week.

The freedom of the empty house is intoxicating and for the first couple of days they behave much like children left to their own devices. They don’t eat a single meal on an actual table and make a complete mess of a number of carpets and sheets, they heat pot after pot of hot chocolate and let the cups pile around the sink, they forget the horses need exercise and lie in the garden with no blanket between them and the damp ground, they break a vase full of red flowers neither of them recognizes while Killian chases her through the drawing room, her hair half down and definitely in need of a wash.

Despite Killian’s daring ambitions, they don’t make love in every room in the house, let alone under every tree in the garden, they just don’t worry about pressing their palms against the other’s mouths quite as often, they rarely bother dressing fully and on one memorable occasion Emma ventures out of their bedroom in her husband’s clothing.

But that’s not what makes her feel drunk on Killian for the entire week – it’s the fact that she spends an unusually warm day with nothing but a shawl over her dressing gown, molding herself against her husband’s side and tucking her feet under his thighs, it’s the fact that, towards the end of the week, Killian’s brace on his nightstand is covered in a fine layer of dust, it’s the fact that they run out of cocoa and, faced with the unthinkable prospect of dressing themselves properly and going to the marker, they start making a horrendous concoction that has too much milk and too much sugar to be called tea anymore, it’s the fact that Killian opens one of the drawers of his heavy, ornate desk and takes out a stack of every drawing she has made and left behind since marrying him.

And then there is an afternoon, a golden hour of utter stillness and the scent of bread not baked quite right, a hushed hour in which she can hear the sound of her fingers counting the vertebrae in Killian’s spine, a muted hour in which she can see the white indentations that remain for three, four, five seconds after Killian’s fingers release her hip, an hour in a very distinct palette of colours against which the black and grey in Killian’s hair stands out sharply, the pink of her nails as she slips her hot hands through it again and again, an hour outside of time in which she feels her spine curve to a point after which there should be no coming back and it’s only Killian’s knees at the small of her back and his stump around her waist that keep her from breaking clean in half, an hour of nothingness in which they only talk against skin and right into each other’s throats, an hour of everything in which she thinks she touches every bit of skin that is Killian’s.

It’s an unremarkable afternoon and an hour the kind of which has ticked away again and again.

But that’s the afternoon she thinks about weeks later, when Ruby comes up with a hot water bottle and cloths and a change of clothes that Emma finds herself not needing.

*****

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shsldepressedlesbian · 4 years

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no one asked but here danganronpa fantasy au that was made in my early days of the fandom and is thus outdated and was made with mostly only the drv3 cast in mind. i updated it a little for the public tho haa

Plot: ok so basically kaede is a princess and she befriends this shapeshifter named shuichi and sorta assigns him as her advisor and their best friends. then two weeks before her crowning she gets kidnapped and shuichi goes off to look for her in time for her to be queen. and he meets the rest of the cast and finds her and everyone is happy

Kaede: Princess. Is very skilled in many different musical types, but piano is her main. Kidnapped from her palace. Shuichi's best friend.

Shuichi: Shapeshifter(he tries to keep this a secret). Orphaned as a child and stumbled into the castle's gardens, where he met Kaede. Searching for her after her disappearance so she can become queen in time.

Kaito: A wannabe adventurer who offers to accompany Shuichi on the road to find Kaede. Also wishes to one day be able to take his adventuring to the sky. Use to be the assistant of an astronomer, before leaving to make his own fortune. Says he's heard rumors about someone who has a map to where the gang who kidnapped Kaede resides. Ryoma was one of his former idols.

Kokichi: A thief and a leader of a gang of bandits. After ending up getting caught while trying to steal from their wagon, he offers to join them and help find Kaede(with plans to rob them and steal their wagon and horses, but only ends up growing closer to them and reconsidering stealing from them cause "huh that prize for finding the queen is a lot more than what these losers probably have").

Maki: An assassin for hire who runs into the trio by random. Also it just so happens that her next target is Kokichi. Kaito saves Kokichi's ass and Shuichi offers to outpay the bounty on Kokichi's head-wait did someone seriously offer that much Kokichi what the hell did you do to piss someone off that much-he then offers that if Maki were to travel with the three of them for a short while, then they could stop by the Akamatsu kingdom and she could get her gold. Maki just wants to kill Kokichi and go, but Kaito begins insisting she comes with them("cmon just cause your an assassin doesnt mean you have to be edgy all the time")and this does really annoy Maki, but eh fine she'll come with them for a day or two, but if she doesn't that money she'll go back to her original plan. And thus the four is complete.

Kiyo: A traveling anthropologist who is secretly a vampire. In his wishes to continue traveling after his turning, he wears much clothing to protect him from the sun, which gives him a creepy appearance. He runs into the four after someone ends up "accidentally" letting the horses go, and offers to give them a ride to meet Rantaro he can guide him to the town. Then mysteriously disappears after dropping a few facts about certain cultures. Even then he appears randomly ever so often. He also has an interest in seances and always observes specialists in the subjects when the chance arrives. His horse, who he's nicknamed "Shiso", is very precious to him, as it is the child of his now deceased older sister's former horse. He also occasionally travels with Rantaro.

Rantaro: A true adventurer who has been through so many dangerous encounters he has become very chill when facing danger. He knows a lot of things about the wild and creature's preferences, though he isn't a walking fact machine. Meets the four and agrees to guide them after hearing they've met Kiyo. Is also looking for his sisters, who have disappeared whilst traveling with him.

Angie: A siren who can change into human when on land. Is very dedicated to the siren sea god. She attempts to use her voice to lure the trio into her cult(of course, doing so would require them to get into the water and drown), but is interrupted by Tenko who scares her off.

Himiko: A young witch who also deems herself a mage. She is severely underestimated due to her lazy nature and size. She gets gravely annoyed when people accuse her of being a fake, and wishes for everyone to see herself as a mage. She calls Tenko her familiar who she turned into a human(the ways of how are not mentioned). When the three arrive, she uses her cauldron to help them locate where the person-who-has-the-map is(she couldn't make out what they looked like or who they were, but hey, she got the town at least).

Tenko: A girl who had once been training to be a knight put was put under a warlock's curse that turned her into a frog, unless she had a true love's kiss. Frog Tenko fell in love almost immediately when she first saw Himiko, and began following her, hoping to one day be able to see if she could break the curse. Himiko first thought of the frog as annoying, but then it began helping her out, and she grew weirdly attached to it, then decided to craft a familiarbond with her, which required at least a kiss on the head. Surprise surprise, Himiko broke Tenko's curse. And Tenko also kept the perks of being a familiar. Tenko has a very obvious crush on Himiko that she denies to have, but is very loyal to her and has promised to protect her and stay by her side until their last days. Due to being a familiar, she has limited magic that can become more powerful the more closer she is to Himiko- and Himiko can also channel magic through her. Tenko, due to a warlock having been the one who put the curse on her and her old teacher feeding her biased views, has a dislike for males, and only rescued the trio because she hated seeing Angie succeeding, and only brought them to Himiko after Shuichi offered to pay a good amount of gold to see her.

Ryoma: A former adventurer, who is now an outlaw since he joined the gang who stole Kaede. However, he also betrayed this gang a long while ago, and so now he is both hunted down by the gang and guards of most kingdoms. He resides hidden away, though by now he has no desire to continue living. He is also the one to have the map to the gang's hideaway, and is the one to give it to Kaito.

Kirumi: The secret former queen of the Tojo kingdom, who ran away after being forced into a loveless marriage. She now works as one of Kaede's best maids, and offers advice. She also tries to track down where Kaede could be held unbeknownst to Shuichi, and is the one to save the four.

Kiibo: A walking build of gears with a touch of magic, he was formerly Miu's first attempt at a walking person. Then, the very next day, almost by magic, he acquired a personality of his own, the ability to speak, and was basically a human- well, sure, he was still made of wood, iron, and gears, but that doesn't change anything, right? He resides in a village with his inventor, who is Miu, as mentioned before. He wishes to one day be able to leave the village and go on his own journey, but for now, he lives peacefully, trying to be seen as just the same as any other normal human.

Miu: An inventor and an idol in her village. She is the reason her village may be the most technologically advanced in the kingdom. She makes plenty of money off of her inventions. Of course, if people were to actually meet her, they would find that she really doesn't act like the inventor people think she is. She lives in her 'lab' in the center of her village, with her companion Kiibo. Has a deep running rivalry with Kokichi, and was actually the one who paid Maki to track him down and kill him.

Gonta: Half human, half beast, all around gentleman. He was abandoned in a forest and was raised by animals and monsters. He has since moved into a village that was much more welcome to him. He wishes to one day become a knight, in order to prove his gentlemenness.

Tsumugi: A very plain and simple tailor whose clothes are much more appealing to look at then herself. Or, at least, that is what people think she is. In reality, she is the leader of the gang who kidnapped Kaede, and wishes for nothing but wealth. She uses her clothing shop as a cover and extra way to make gold, and at the end she kidnaps the four, only to be foiled.

Other Characters:

Makoto: A friendly baker who happens to get sucked into adventures from time to time. Has a curse/gift of both bad luck and good luck. Also married to Kyoko(and maybe Prince Togami).

Kyoko: A very well respected investigator who is rumored to be able to take any case. An enemy of thieving gangs. Married to Makoto(and maybe Prince Togami).

Byakuya: A snobby prince who is due to take his kingdom's throne. However, he refuses to get married until he is crowned(there is a rumor that he is engaged in a poly relationship with the investigator Kyoko and her husband. neither of them have confirmed nor denied this).

Toko/Genocider Syo: A half demon writer who's demon side is a serial killer by the name of Genocider Syo. Use to serve Byakuya and had an intense infatuation for him, before meeting Komaru and going on an adventure with her(more explained in Komaru's section), and eventually falling in love with her, eventually quitting her old job to become a writer.

Aoi: A friendly mermaid with an intense craving for human treats. Is dating Sakura.

Sakura: The head knight of a certain kingdom. Very just. Is dating Aoi.

Celeste: A vampire who gambles for money and blood. Has her own mansion of vampire butlers.

Kiyotaka: A traveling ranger whose duty is to right all the wrongs of this world. May or may not possess some sort of supernatural powers. Also may or may not be in a romantic relationship with Mondo.

Mondo: A feared bandit(who is also a werewolf)who is the leader of his own gang, with black horses being their symbol(and also their form of transportation). Use to challenge Kiyotaka often and considered him a rival, but now their quite close "bros"(who may or may not have romantic feelings for each other).

Chihiro: A shy potionbrewer. They sell things such as the healing potions they make, though their quick to give for free to people who need it. However, isn't gullible. Surprisingly on good terms with Mondo and Kiyotaka, being that they once rescued Mondo and nursed him back to health.

Hagakure: A(very limited)psychic who has probably sold his soul to a demon for money. Is in way too much debt with too many bandit gangs. His friends wonder how he's still alive. Either way, he travels around telling fortunes to make money.

Leon: An archer who wishes to be anything but an archer. He has a wish of becoming a bard, as far as that wish may be. Has been rescued from siren attacks too many times to count.

Sayaka: A siren who doesn't have the same mentality as the other sirens, and doesn't actually believe in or pray to the sea god. However, she still has a mavolvent side, and enjoys luring men to their doom. But it is possible to befriend her. She and Makoto have known each other since childhood and are very close friends.

Hifumi: A traveling scribe with an interest in drawings of fictional woman. Has been rumored to be an assistant of Celeste.

Junko: The head queen of the chaotic level demons. Wishes for nothing but to break despair to everyone. Grew up with Mukuro as sisters, but isn't actually related to her by blood.

Mukuro: A shapeshifter who takes many forms. Has been a knight in many armies and is very skilled with weapons. She and Junko were both abandoned orphans who ended growing up with each other as sisters. Is also Junko's 'eyes upstairs'. Has managed to grow attached to Makoto after observing him, and often ends up rescuing him without his knowledge.

Hajime: A demon hunter who is half demon himself(his half demon side being nicknamed Izuru Kamukura, and being a skillful level of demon). Only kills demons who he considers actual threats. Surprisingly drinking barmates with Fuyuhiko and Kazuchi. Is currently reluctantly allowing Nagito to stay with him(may or may not actually have romantic feelings for him). Use to be in love with Chiaki, until she peacefully rejected him.

Nagito: A demon who many believe to be in the chaotic level, but is actually just a lowly luck demon(a very severe luck demon to be exact). Brings despair wherever he goes, though he yearns for nothing but the hope to bring him to the end. Grew very quickly attached to Hajime after observing him for a few days after he spared him, and believes that he will be the hope that will eventually kill him- but as annoying as he may be, Hajime doesn't wish to kill him off. Very self-degrading.

Chiaki: A very sleepy and peaceful witch, who people come to for advice. She enjoys controlling stick figures in video game styles. Close childhood friend of Hajime.

Kazuchi: An inventor who dreams of one day being accepted as the private inventor to Princess Sonia, his everlasting crush. His inventions are amazing, but underlooked. He sold his soul to a demon once in order to make his brown hair pink and to have his sight back so he didn't have to wear glasses. Lucky for him, Hajime then slayed that demon, and now he considers the both of them soulfriends(hajime has his regrets). He spends more time with Gundham, who he battles for Sonia's affections, rather then trying to chill with Sonia herself(though to be fair she doesnt let him get that close).

Gundham: A demon who can bend the will of animals to his own use, aided by his destructive Four Dark Devas of Destruction. His name is feared across the land, and he wishes for nothing but to instill fear into the hearts of many. Until he met Princess Sonia, who he spends an awful lot of time with and seems to have a soft spot for her. He can be found making his plans to destroy villages, hanging out with Sonia, or arguing with Kazuchi.

Sonia: A princess who is invested in learning about demons and summonings. Often travels around in order to observe such things, and a ritual was actually where she met Gundham, who she became close friends with.

Fuyuhiko: The leader of one of the most powerful gangs in the continent. Lost his eye in a barfight. Though he's usually a mean and rough guy, he has a soft spot for his 'allies'(mainly Kazuchi and Hajime)and his personal bodyguard, Peko. He thinks of Peko as more than a tool, and wants her to see that.

Peko: Once upon a time, a group of humans with super senses made an arrangement with the gang that Fuyuhiko now runs. The gang would help them out and leave them alone while supplying them with some money every month, and they would give to them one of their own young to each of the current gang leader's children. Peko was given to Fuyuhiko when she was just a baby. The two grew up alongside each other, but never as equals. She was trained to be nothing but a weapon. A protector. Because of this, she has grown awfully monotone. But, she has a soft spot for fluffy animals, though they do not have a soft spot for her.

Mikan: A fallen angel who fell when she met Junko, the so called leader of the powerful side of demons, and became infatuated by her. Now serves alongside Junko, in a not very healthy relationship. Hopefully she'll break free one day...

Ibuki: A half beast who can transform from a colorful gem dragon to a more humanlike form. She's very rambunctious and causes disaster without meaning to. Loud and vocal.

Twogami: A double agent shapeshifter who goes by many identities, so many in fact that they don't even actually know who they themselves are. However, they have a strong sense of leadership and is a surprisingly nice guy. Actually takes Byakuya's role for amount of times so the original Byakuya can sneak out and meet with Makoto and Kyoko.

Mahiru: An explorer who likes to take pictures of every place she sees. Also is known to help people out whenever she passes through a village. Met Hiyoko when the short girl defended her from a bar creep. Has a friend from home that she occasionally travels with by the name of Sato.

Hiyoko: A dancer who travels a lot, going from bar to bar. She doesn't really like it, considering how many 'creeps' are there, but it makes money for her and her dad, who she cares about a lot. Defended Mahiru from a creep and grew attached to her, and insists that she come visit her whenever she happens through a town that Hiyoko is performing in. May have some feelings for her, but whether their one-sided or not is still to be seen.

Akane: A harpy who is almost always hungry, and can usually be found hunting for meat. A little dimwitted and has a sense of recklessness. Close allies with Nekomaru.

Nekomaru: A half beast who can turn into a stone beast. Is very good at pumping people up, and is also very loud. Close allies with Akane.

Teruteru: A chef who runs a popular restaurant with his mother. A little perverted and almost definitely has summoned a Succubus for a one night stand before.

#pineapple writes #danganronpa #danganronpa au #dr1 #drthh #drv3 #sdr2

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luxusnoname · 4 years

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Glory Is A Whisper (Part One)

Summary: All his life, Braig dreamed of the honor and prestige that came along with being a hero from the stories of old. So when an opportunity to find a legendary weapon falls right into his lap, how can he say no? But if those stories are anything to go by, things never turn out quite as expected. Part one of (?) in a series. For Day 6 of @apprenticeweek : AU.

Characters/Pairings: Braig, Dilan, Aeleus, bg Dilan/Aeleus. More to come in the next part 👀

Rating: T; some alcohol and swears

Word Count: ~2.1k

Author’s Note: Will be posting part 2 tomorrow for the free day! I started writing this as a one shot but it quickly spiraled out of control. You know what they say: once you start using fantasy name generators for your towns and mountain ranges it’s all downhill from there.

~~~

Glory Is A Whisper

“I just don’t get it,” Braig pondered aloud, kicking his feet up on the rough-hewn tavern table as he tipped back precariously in his chair. “What do all of those legendary heroes have that I don’t?”

The fairy-tales always made it sound so easy. Sure, there was usually a dragon guarding the princess or some ancient necromancer with an army of undead to protect a magical artifact, but the hero's path always seemed to lay out nicely before them. Sometimes it appeared in the form of a magical mentor, sending the hero on a quest or guiding them to great power. Other times it was a prophecy, a pre-destined event that one was born and molded for their entire lives. Braig had neither of these going for him. So what then was an aspiring glory seeker to do?

Dilan, one of Braig’s only friends in the village, sighed and sloshed the liquid in his tankard around. How many times had they had this conversation before? He didn’t look up from his ale as he responded sharply.

“Manners, for starters. Feet off the table, Braig.”

The smaller man gave a dramatic groan, but obeyed. “I’m serious! I’ve got charisma-”

“Debatable.”

“-good looks-”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

“-and my skill with a bow.”

Dilan grumbled; he unfortunately couldn’t refute that. If there was anything that could be said about Braig’s potential for greatness, it would be attributed to his keen marksmanship. He was also quick and far more clever than most would give him credit for, but he often acted carelessly on impulse. His personality, boisterous and cocksure, left much to be desired.

He was a man through and through - by all accounts, the least remarkable race in the realm. And if one asked any of the villagers of Dunstead that knew Braig, he in particular was even less so.

“All I’m saying,” Braig continued, “is that there’s gotta be something more to life than… This.” He gestured to the rest of the tavern and its rowdy, drunken patrons. The irony that he was one of them went completely over his head.

Dilan scowled. “You’re the one who wanted to come here in the first place.”

“You know what I mean! Yeah, I like to come here because sometimes people come through with stories. Stories of places and treasures far away from here. But if this is all I have to look forward to for the rest of my life? What’s the point?”

“I think you’ve had too much ale and it’s muddling what little sense you have left.” He shook his head. “Perhaps it’s time we leave. I have to be at the blacksmith’s first thing tomorrow morning.”

Braig waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not nearly as drunk as you think. You can go if you want, but I’m going to stay a while longer.”

“If you say so.” Dilan stood up with a grunt, digging around in his pocket for a few silver pieces. He set them on the table. “Give these to the barkeep before you leave. Do not pocket them.”

“Give ‘em to him yourself then. Aeleus likes you better anyway.”

He watched his companion leave the tavern, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aeleus doing the same. Braig rolled his eyes. Their mutual infatuation was so obvious to everyone but each other, yet Dilan called him the simpleton. He kicked his feet back up on the table and closed his eyes, listening for any threads of conversation that might be mildly interesting.

“They’re not so much from me as they are an apology for him having to put up with you,” he quipped, with a quick glance at the ginger man behind the counter. “Besides. He’s busy right now and doesn’t need me distracting him.”

Braig shrugged. “Whatever you say, Dil. Have a good night.”

He had spent many a night like this in Dunstead’s tavern, listening to rangers and travelers and peddlers exchange stories in hopes of finding a legend to follow. Preferably something that required his skill with a bow to slay a dangerous beast or defeat a great foe. His fingers itched for a more challenging opponent than the rabbit he hunted for dinner last night.

But these were not the sorts of stories he heard. Most of them were boring and none were even close to anything he would consider legendary. Sure, killing a rabid wolf that had been slowly picking off members of a nearby village was worth some bragging rights, but where were the riches? The grandeur? He wanted recognition and reward for his efforts, but he was beginning to think the opportunity would never come.

And then the tavern door creaked open and the din of the crowd quieted ever so slightly. Braig cracked an eye open and glanced toward the newcomer. It appeared to be an older man judging by his gait, but a heavy cloak obscured his face. He wasn’t a Dunstead local, that much was for certain. More than a few pairs of eyes followed him to the bar where he seated himself. There was a heavy and distinct air of otherness about him that Braig couldn’t put his finger on. He seemed… Powerful. Important.

Maybe he’d had too much ale after all, because he didn’t even think before he stood from his own table and swiped up the money left by Dilan, making his way to the bar. He seated himself next to the stranger and beckoned Aeleus over.

“A pint of your finest for myself and this gentleman here.” Braig handed him a silver piece with a flourish. “You can keep the change.”

Aeleus nodded and set about pouring their drinks. Braig turned to the old man, who had watched the exchange passively. It was strange; even up close, he couldn’t make out any distinguishing features beneath the cowl.

“I appreciate the kindness, stranger.” The newcomer's voice came as a deep and gravely rasp. “Do you often buy drinks for weary travelers?”

“I guess you could say I’m in charge of hospitality here,” he grinned. “The name’s Braig.”

The man dipped his head in acknowledgement. “A pleasure.”

“Your drinks, gentlemen,” Aeleus interrupted, shooting Braig a brief ‘I know you’re bullshitting this man but I’m going to stay out of it’ glance before setting their tankards down and leaving to serve another patron.

Braig lifted his drink in a toast, bumping it with the stranger’s. “Welcome to Dunstead, my friend!”

As they drank, Braig got the feeling that this reclusive stranger was privy to some secret knowledge or power. He just had a feeling. And so he found himself crafting a very elaborate and very false story about how he was a famed archer in the region and basically the hero of Dunstead. He recounted a tale in which he single-handedly defended a young prince who’d been attacked by bandits while passing through the hills on the east end of the village, and was rewarded handsomely for his valor. Most of the money was donated to widows and poor families in town, of course. He peppered in other small, more believable acts of kindness as well, and the stranger listened with rapt attention.

“A shame your deeds are not known elsewhere,” the gentleman hummed at the end of it all. “It is to be expected, of course. Such heroic men are usually only acknowledged in the pages of history. But it would appear I’ve found a legend in the making.”

“Eh, maybe so,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “But helping others is a reward all its own.”

“Me? A living legend?” Braig laughed, playing up his modesty. “As if. I’m just a guy who does the right thing, regardless of reward.”

“Oh, but that selflessness is what qualifies you to be a hero,” the stranger continued. “You’ve risked your life for others with little regard for your own safety. Don’t you think that’s deserving of something more than just the respect of your fellow man?”

“But what if I told you that it doesn’t have to be?”

Braig’s façade almost cracked as whatever he’d been about to say died on his lips. His shock, however, was quickly covered up with an easy grin. He knew his act was working as intended, but he hadn’t expected to get to this point so quickly.

The man dug around in his robe for a moment before procuring a rolled parchment. He laid it on the bar to reveal a map of the realm. Braig had seen one like it once before, a traveling peddler’s map marked with safe trade routes and profitable towns. But this map… There was only one destination marked on it. An inconspicuous spot at the foot of the Skarnfell mountain range.

“Tell me, Braig, have you heard tales of Whisperwind?”

His jaw nearly hit the floor. Of course he knew of Whisperwind, as did every other child who’d ever heard a bedtime story. It was a legendary elven bow, enchanted so that as long as the target was in sight, its wielder would aim true every time. He hadn’t allowed himself to believe it was real since he was a boy that dreamed of discovering it. Most dismissed it as a legend.

The stranger gave a low chuckle. “I can tell by your expression that you have. Now, don’t you think such a weapon would be fitting for a hero such as yourself?”

“But… I thought the elves left this region long ago.”

“That is what history has told us, yes. But their last settlement before moving on, a city inside the mountain, still stands. And inside, they left behind one of their greatest artifacts.” The man pointed to the spot on the map to reinforce his point. “I’ve searched for it myself, but lack the wits I’d had in my youth. Perhaps you’d fare better?”

“I-I don’t know what to say.” They were the first honest words he’d spoken to the stranger so far, a sure sign of his shock. “I appreciate it, I do, but… Why entrust something like this to me?”

The stranger laid a hand on his shoulder, eyes beneath the cowl silently penetrating his very soul. Was that a flash of gold he saw?

“You are a great man in word and deed, Braig. As I said before, I believe you are worthy of more than just praise alone. This is your opportunity to become something more. A true legend.”

Maybe it was just Braig’s imagination, but was the man’s grip on his shoulder tighter? Or was he just nervous, already imagining the journey ahead? This was what he’d always dreamed of, after all. A legend to chase after. His chance for glory.

His destiny.

“Take this map home with you and think on what I’ve said.” He let go of Braig’s shoulder and rolled the parchment up once more. “A gift, for entertaining this weary old man with tales of valor and generosity.”

Braig stood up, tucking the map into his pocket and shaking the stranger’s hand. “Thank you, mister…” He chuckled awkwardly. “Y’know, this whole time we were talking, I never did catch your name.”

“My name is hardly important. But I’ve affixed the corner of the map with my symbol. If you discover Whisperwind and make it into the pages of history, I would like to be named in your story. My symbol will suffice for such a purpose.”

Braig nodded dumbly, head still reeling from the revelations of the past few minutes. “Yeah, of course. I’ll never forget your kindness, sir. Truly.” He turned to walk away, but stopped short. “Wait, do you have a place to stay tonight? If you don’t, it’s the least I could do to offer you mine.”

The man laughed, deep and rich. “You needn’t put yourself out on my account. I have money for a room at the inn tonight. I’ll be moving on tomorrow morning.”

“Alright, well. I bid you a good night then. And safe travels.”

“Likewise, young man.”

As Braig left the tavern, he nodded to Aeleus, who was doing his best not to make eye contact with Braig. Bless the man, he really did mind his business… Oh right, he almost forgot the tip! Braig stopped just outside the door and dug in his pocket for the silver coins Dilan left, but his fingers found nothing. Huh, maybe he’d dropped them on the way to the bar. They were probably long gone, swept up by some vulture. Not that it mattered, anyway. What was a few pieces of silver to a great weapon from the age of elves?

Braig hardly got a wink of sleep that night. The stranger told him to think it over, but he’d already made up his mind. He packed a bag and was ready to leave at sunrise. The journey would only take a week, so he really had nothing to lose. The most difficult part would be the day spent navigating through Willowmire forest at the northern border of Dunstead. But as long as he stuck to the path, he’d be fine. He had to be, for his destiny awaited him.

#apprenticeweek2020 #kingdom hearts #braig #dilan #aeleus #nobody asked for a fantasy au #but i'm writing it anyway #actually this all was inspired by a single fe character from a game I never played lmao #embarrassingly enough #maybe i will elaborate on that later. we shall see #Xigbar/Braig #Xaldin/Dilan #Lexaeus/Aeleus

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oflokismischief · 4 years

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Christmas At Lux || Discord

Summary: After being trapped alone with Clint for two hours in France, Loki is in desperate need of a drink, and good company something a certain Archangel just happened to give.

Written With: @ofwarriors

Michael: He sat at the bar and surveyed the club below. It was different than the last time he'd been here. Lucifer had it redesigned in some gaudy and dramatic Christmas theme. His waitstaff wore what he assumed were Christmas elf costumes, but it was hard to tell seeing as the outfits themselves were barely existent. In terms of who'd won the silent battle of décor here, he had to give it to Zatanna. Michael picked up his bourbon and took a sip before looking at the patron next to him. "So, what brings you here tonight?" he asked. "Curiosity or boredom?"

Loki: Had been stuck in France with Clint for another two hours when they'd finally figured out how to get out and find their way out of Zatanna's. Clint immediately went on the hunt for his son Hayden who Nat had stolen away, the god wanting nothing more than a nice drink decided to check out the Lux club. If anything he could at least have the burn in his throat to take his mind off the fact he'd greatly enjoyed being 'lost' with Clint. Just before he could take a sip of his drink he turned towards the male who'd spoken. "Drinks, if I'm being honest" he replied taking great interest in the not human before him. "but this will hardly do much for me outside of enjoyment. Why are you here?"

Michael: He sensed magic about the man that was similar to Zatanna's. There was also a heaviness in his heart. Guilt? Loss? He couldn't read it. The emotions were too intertwined. "Ah, the drinks," Michael pondered. "I can't quite feel them myself, but I hear if you tip Maz well she'll make them nice and strong," he remarked as he took a sip from his own glass. "I have to admit, this isn't my usual scene. My brother owns the place. I guess you can say I'm just here to support," he shrugged.

Grant: Grant had never been one for the holidays, growing up his family didn't have much and they didn't really celebrate much. He tended to try and be working this time of year but he wasn't able to get placed on an op this year. Why he had ventured out into the chaos that was beyond him, and all he wanted was a good drink. He sat down at the bar before ordering a beer, listening in on the conversation around him. "Your brother? The guy going around calling himself Lucifer?"

Loki: could tell this human wasn’t one at all, he wasn’t so much a God but something close. Things were turning quite interesting on Earth which made him glad his brother sent him here to keep an eye on things. " I can't either but something about two lonely people met in a bar sounded so wonderful to me" he chuckled softly before looking back at the new gentlemen and the other finally connecting the dots " if your brother is Lucifer does that make you Michael? Much too handsome to be either Raphael or Gabriel." He teased the male of course letting the mischief show in his green eyes. " such a good brother you are there was a time I would've counted my elder brother against you....but times change and people grow apart"

Michael: "Two lonely people meet at a bar? Come on, now, you're better than that old cliché," teased the archangel before turning to look at the other gentleman that had spoken. "Unfortunately, that's him," he laughed. "It would appear he's made quite a name for himself. Mostly because he seems to be compelled to name drop himself any chance he gets," he replied with a shake of his head. What could one expect from an angel that was banished due to his own bloody vanity and pride? "I am Michael," he acknowledged to the other man. He seemed quick to catch on that things here were not as they seemed. "I'll be sure to let Gabe and Ralph know they're runner ups, but for our sake let's hope they don't make an appearance." Lucifer was lucky it was Michael who was summoned here. Despite his brother's idiotic and childish schemes, Michael was the more patient of the four principal archangels. Gabriel and Raphael would have ripped heaven and earth apart to put Lucifer back in his rightful place. Michael was content just keeping the balance in check for now anyway.

Loki: Chuckled softly looking at the other "Nothing wrong with old cliché" He replied before sipping the drink that he knew would do nothing for him. He had to admit he didn't know this Lucifer but he could sense no lie in Michael's voice when he talked about how much his brother enjoyed name dropping. " Nice to meet you Michael, and I'll appreciate you keeping my love for you hidden from the others, who knows maybe you'll also be able to protect me from them should they make an appearance. " He chuckled softly before looking at the other he wondered, for a quick moment what it would be like to get the male drunk simply for the fun he was sure to follow. "You can't get drunk on this stuff you say? would you like to try something that my family makes? The recipe has been passed down through the generations?"

Michael: "I'd say your secret is safe with me considering you never gave me your name," teased the archangel. In a town full of mages, monsters, and metahumans he could be just about anyone. "but, if it does come down to it, I've been dodging Ralph and Gabe effectively for centuries now. I'm sure I can help you avoid them too," he laughed before looking down at his cup. "Bootleg liquor, huh? If it's as strong as you say it is, I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass. I've got work in the morning," he said, nudging his head toward Zatara's Magic Shop.

Loki: smirked at the other it was true he'd all but guessed the others name but never gave his in return " Loki at your service" he replied holding out his hand in a greeting gesture. " well I'm very thankful for whatever help you provide after all I'm the lover of the family, not the fighter" he replied before chuckling softly " bootleg liquor? I'll have you know this was made by the finest brewery in my hometown, plus it's not that strong for those who know their limits, just a taste? I'm pretty sure you look like one who can hold their liquor" he offered before smiling "I've never been there, but I've heard good things about it, never really felt the need too, what do you do for Zatara?"

Michael: He shook Loki's hand with good spirits. "God of Mischief, huh?" The angel had been around long enough to know the Asgardian myths which Christianity eventually displaced on this plane of existence. Loki reminded him greatly of Lucifer. Young, mischievous, and a tad misunderstood. The Lux was a fitting place for a man like that. He could already see the gears working in this smooth talker's head. He wanted to see what kind of mischief he could get up to by getting an angel drunk. Not that it was possible. Michael slid his cup over to Loki. "I've been drinking around the world today at Zatara's. I suppose its only fair to try a bit of Asgard too." He'd indulge him in one drink before retiring for the night. "I'm the artifacts curator for the shop," he replied.

Loki: He shook the other's hand feeling his smile slip to his lips when the male knew one of his many titles "a Fan of Asgardian Myths I see, makes me smile to hear that name from your lips, what's life without a little mischief?" He teased after all he wasn't call sliver tongue simply because the man was quick with his words. Loki could tell the angel didn't believe him about how strong the ale would be but then again that was part of the plan anyhow. With a wave of his hand, he made a flask appear before pouring two full shot glasses of Ale before chuckling softly "I see we had similar ideas, I got stuck in France for a little bit" He replied before looking at the male with great interest "A curator? what kind of artifacts do you guys deal with? are all just magi inbound things?" He replied before grabbing his drink to sip it.

Michael: "I had a brother who was all about mischief. He runs this club now and happens to not find me nearly as charming these days," he laughed. The parallels between their mythos didn't escape Michael. He supposed history repeated itself quite frequently. He watched as the flask appeared in Loki's hand and smiled to himself. It reminded him of Zatanna's stage tricks and theatrics. Were all mages this animated? Certainly, the ones he gravitated to were. "I suppose that's as good a place as any to be stuck. Did you at least try the baguettes? They're delicious," he replied as he took the small shot glass in hand. "A lot of it is magi based. Zatanna's amassed a dangerous amount over the years. And then there are some items that date older than the magi themselves. You're more than welcome to stop by and take a look. Naturally, all the fun items are kept in storage though," he laughed, holding up his glass to the god in a cheers gesture before knocking back the drink.

Loki: "I find you charming and I'm still all about mischief maybe it's just a sibling feud I've had a couple of those I'm sure you know" he replied softly knowing that his bit of theatrics was something the other would appreciate after all he worked with the great Zatanna did he not? " of course I did, one thing these mortals are quite good at is food, what was your favorite country to visit?" He questioned smirking before cheering the angel and downing his drink very much the same way "I'd love too so long as your working, while I know plenty of magi I'm afraid the type of artifacts you know about are things I thought useless to learn. Back home we had something similar on display but most of them were fun items it should be interesting to see what you deem dangerous and why" he chuckled switching back to regular alcohol knowing the angel would try another glass for fear of getting drunk.

#C: Michael #Christmas At Lux #Discord Chat

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royal-writer · 6 years

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Better Together

MMMM Amon would make A+ husband material I can Feel It.

Ammy I’m so sorry I took your badass broken sad little boy and made him a sappy romantic sweet baby of such sentimental qualities

No I’m not it works wonderfully and everyone knows it I ain’t sorry at all.

When they were here, it always produced the fondest sense of reminiscence. The dark wood paneling, the bar-top, and the stools still unchanged. The same fireplace; churning out none of it’s usual warmth at this point in the summer. Every sight and sound and smell unchanged; every taste of the food exquisite and only varying as much as the seasonal options and choices you made but still always delicious.

Essätha could only laugh now, recalling her disdain from that day so long ago. She had been so ready to put up a fight and to bite, claw, and hiss at every misplaced toe and digit in her space. Each time someone raised a voice to speak, she’d had to force herself to swallow venom and roll her eyes.

All that had mattered then was the loot and the rush. Running wild but not carefree. Every shadow an enemy longing to attack her. Every eye trained to her trying to determine a label of worth as people stared at her pretty face only to cringe at the scales upon it.

How life had changed. Weird and fantastical as it was now, to have a permanent place to reside and call home. A strange but amazing existence where she could call the most handsome and endearing man she’d ever met her husband. Every day now spent looking into his eyes and feeling the richest reward she’d ever really wanted in her grasp.

Happiness.

It lived in her wonderful Lord Amon; with him, alongside him and against him and near him. All around them and now inside of her. Watching him with her chin upon her hand and a softened, lazy smile as she looked into the intricate appearances play out on his face as he so boisterously expressed himself. A lift of his hand, a hearty laugh deep in his chest, the crinkles around his eyes as he’d chuckle.

The roughness of his palm as he would reach out for her. An unconscious gesture; fingertips lazily drawing against the back of her hand. Sometimes glimpsing her way; a look of confirmation on what he’d said or a gentle glance.

She loved the shine of his eyes most of all. The barricades he’d held to close off such a magnetic, engaging personality for years had been shattered long ago. It left behind his insecurities that rose and fell from time to time, but mostly this look he had now resided. Utter joy and calm. Warm and welcoming.

Her thoughts skipped in and out of the conversation with sir Barnabus as she turned around on the stool to look out on the mostly empty bar. The day was too early for customers of the more rowdy variety, so there was only a handful of ladies at one of the larger tables with two gentlemen nearby. Horse drivers, Essätha recognized by their less-expensive attire and placement in the far corner silently.

An absent brush of fingers caressed her shoulder. It drew a sigh from her, shyly glancing over to Amon whose eyes only flickered to her mid-conversation before he turned back to the barkeep, grinning.

Damn him, he knew well how he made her heart quiver when he did such things. The weightlessness he put her in; stealing away her breath like a criminal when all he had to do was ask.

“Lady Essätha?”

She spun around slowly on the barstool, turning towards the soft feminine voice.

“The honeycakes you asked for, my lady.”

“Oh Giselle, you’re such a dear,” she gushed, laughing softly. “I’ve told you before, you can just call me Essätha.”

The timid elfish girl grinned gently in response. With a curtsy, she slid the small plate on the counter.

“Give gentleman Grbrysh my undying love and gratitude, will you Giselle?”

“Of course, my lady.”

She snickered softly at the young woman as she walked back along the edge of the bar towards the kitchen door. A fork quickly in hand as she poked her tender, delicately layered honeycake. Glossy honey drizzled over the top, the scent of orange and cinnamon touching her nose as a few nuts fell away from the slice of deliciousness.

In the corner of her eye, she could see a flash of two silver pieces Amon slid over to Barnabus as she took her first bite.

“Mmmmm,” she mumbled, delicately chewing as the cake dissolved in her mouth. “Yummy.”

Poking another forkful off, she picked up a nearby folded napkin to hold beneath her hand. Tilting towards Amon’s stool, she held out the fork; catching the amusement dancing in the Briarton Lord’s eyes as he fondly gazed to her in the corner of his eye.

“Ahhh!”

She giggled as he took the forkful with a tentative scrap of teeth.

Barnabus made a gruff, barely restrained laughter in the back of his throat.

Watching as he chewed, Essätha took another eager bite herself.

“Good?” she inquired, pressing a hand over her mouth as she spoke while chewing. Quite improper of a lady but then again, she hadn’t been raised to be the ideal woman.

A noise of agreement, and Amon leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Sweet, but I’ve tasted sweeter.”

“Amon, behave yourself in my bar,” Barnabus snorted, his voice shaking with laughter. “It’s much too early for me to throw people out for public indecency.”

“Oh sir Barnabus,” Essätha coed, leaning over the counter with a pouty wide-eyed look. “You wouldn’t do that to us! We’re your valued customers; your loyal friends. If it makes you feel better, I’m sure Amon could offer you a kiss on the cheek as well?”

There was no stopping the barking laughter now. Even Amon; red in the face which he hid behind his hands, was shaking in the shoulders with repressed chuckles.

“You really are somethin’, lady lass.”

“I sure hope that’s a good something.”

“Any lady who can put a smile on his face is surely a special one,” Barnabus remarked, leaning across to jab Amon gently in the shoulder.

Essätha smirked to herself, poking another section of her dish to take a bite as Amon rounded on the barkeep with a slew of words she couldn’t understand. Ah, elvish. Well, at least judging by their expressions and tone, they were having some friendly banter.

Whatever the Illaid gentleman said next was too fast-spoke, but she she did pick out ‘darling’ in there somewhere. His hand taking hold hers for a moment, brushing an intimate kiss against her knuckles and his beard rubbing against her fingers as she gazed upon him.

Barnabus smoothly muttered a few words, raising a towel in the air as he picked up Amon’s pint to mop the water ring.

Feverishly, Amon jumped back in to conversation; leaving her to nibble on her dessert with a quirky grin and pinkish toned cheeks. Tuning in and out the foreign tongue she only barely could clip fragments out of, and thus leaving herself open to the rest of the room and its chatter.

“… his mistress.”

“She hardly seems lady-like, does she? Trousers, I mean, really. Was she raised on a farm?”

“He wed her because he was desperate, Guinevere, not for her looks. No one would take him after so many failed relationships. I always heard he was a careless lover and heartless shrew.”

Essätha slid her fork across the plate slowly, her appetite lost.

“I still say Ivy would have made a lovely bride for him. They were an enchanting duo. But she told me; years ago now mind you, that that man Amon always was a bit standoffish. When things got serious or when she’d bring up marriage, he would always push her away. Sometimes he’d disappear, off on one of his expeditions you know.”

“Oh yes, him and his hunts. Who could forget.”

“She must be another hunt.”

“You wouldn’t dare suggest her a trophy wife. Look at her; she’s hardly public presentable.”

Essie’s grip tightened upon the edge of the table. Her vision doubling; swimming with unshed tears as her fingers shifted between fingers themselves and talon-like digits in flickers of scales.

“Not to mention she’s not of noble descent.”

“Margery, what else is there if not trophy wife? Sure she’s undignified, but she the shape of her face is very nice, and she has a great waistline. If only she’d utilize it for more dressy apparel…”

“The shape of her face, or those lizard scales.”

“I’m fairly certain that is dragonborn heritage, no?”

“No, I think it’s lizard. Those lizard-people what are they called… Kobay? Kobbie? Oh who cares. They’re disgusting and unhygienic. She probably sheds from those nasty spots.”

A round of giggles followed from some of the ladies.

“Besides, what man in his right mind and stature would choose such a scandalous realtionship and unkept woman if there wasn’t something hidden between them? It could be a falsified blackmail, for all we’re aware. Maybe she’d holding something above him.”

“It may have something to do with her position?” another reasoned. “He did travel with her and those hooligans, and their names did gain favor. Maybe it’s his way of redemption since no one in the aristocratic community would dare touch such a cold man again. He bodes ill on Lady Josephine in comparison, anyway. At least now he can say he’s married; and brush the lone woman under the rug and out of sight when visitors arrive.”

Shaking, Essätha gingerly placed her utensil on the table. Her hips swiveled on the seat, spinning around until she could hop off the edge.

There was a comment from behind her that she didn’t catch. Her feet were already in motion; striding across the room efficiently. A smooth heel-to-toe until she was upon the table effortlessly and in no time.

The women faltered upon her approach. A hush befell them as they all reached out to hush and quiet each other when some did not instantly grow quiet. All eyes upon her. Each set wide. Some worried, some terrified, all a bit uneasy.

She stopped just in front of the table. Her jaw clenching and unclenching as it worked. Her hands balled into fists, and then relaxing as she exhaled deeply and slowly. Rearing control of her anger as best she could, but most importantly, keeping a steady sense of self. She did not want to shift or reveal her true nature, not here and now out of temperamental stupidity.

“I am Lord Amon’s wife!” she proclaimed in a harsh, threatening tone as tears sprung up in her vision.

“You will respect me as Lady Amon Illiad of the Emerald Expanse, you disgraceful harpies! How dare you whisper your vile tongues in the same space as me. Well here I am, right in front of you. Why don’t you say them now, hmm?”

“Essätha-”

A beckoning voice; alarmed and concerned as it approached her.

“That is my husband’s name you spit at like dirt! Have you no shame; no honor? This is his land; his area of reign and you belittle him here? How dare you, how fucking dare you-”

A warm hand slid over her shoulder, pulling at her lightly.

She refused to budge. Raising her chin, a finger pointed out at the women as they flinched beneath her furious glare.

“I’m not his mistress!” she hissed, voice cracking. “I’m not just something he picked up off the streets to satisfy, and you will respect that! You will respect me, and my husband, and his choices because it is none of your concern! It’s none of your business, and you can stay out of it and stop spreading your toxicity and diseased thoughts like plague around these parts!”

“My darling,” Amon whispered, moving to stand beside her as he pressed a coaxing hand to her collar.

This time, Essätha didn’t refuse him. Her lips trembling, shaking with the undertow of her emotions dragging her in. At the will and mercy of the guiding arm that wrapped around her as she turned, allowing her husband to lead her through the pub and in the direction of the kitchen.

Behind her, the drifting words of Barnabus went unheard. Urging the women sternly, but calmly, that they were to immediately leave his establishment.

The door to the kitchen swung gently open as Amon pressed a hand upon it to escort her inside. Only the worrisome face of the orc chef stood in the middle of the room, wringing his massive hands.

“Tea?” the cook grumbled thickly.

“That would be nice, Grbrysh,” Amon spoke quietly. “Thank you.”

Wordlessly silent, Essätha stood where she was left as the Illiad heir strode the room. Pulling aside two stools, he placed them off to the side and came back for her. Encouraging her along with a soft pull of her hand, and bringing her to sit across from him on the rickety old seats.

Grbrysh stepped over, politely offering a steaming cup to her.

Keeping her head down, Essie accepted it with a murmured ‘thank you’ hardly to be heard.

Amon accept his own with a dry smile she only just captured at a glimpse. Her eyes trailed over the orc as he moved past her, with his footsteps moving up the creaking stairwell behind.

The quiet stretched.

Essätha became increasingly aware of her shaking hands holding the teacup. She lifted it to drink, a few tears dripping from her chin into the cup as she drained most of it in a single gulp. The heat felt good in her stomach, but less so on her throat and tongue.

Amon’s cup clattered against the edge of the counter he slid it on a few feet away. Leaning forward, his hands reached acros to take hold of her hands. Callused fingers running alongside the back of her hands and the cup, palms entrapping her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly.

A small shake of her head, wisps of ebony hair falling over her face from loose curls.

“You weren’t the one saying those awful things.”

“No, but I’m sorry you heard them.”

His hands gently took the cup from her grasp to set it beside his own. Reaching out, those same delicate fingers brushed against her jaw and moved further. Taking hold of her face on either side, with thumbs massaging against her cheeks.

“They are just the babble of single-minded people, Essätha,” he spoke softly. “Do not let them fool you into thinking that the things they say are true. You are a clever, staggering, charming woman of grace and beauty.”

Chewing on her lower lip, an enormous sigh escaped her. His words; though gentle, did not stop the dull ache in her chest. Doubts she carried deep, deep, deep inside. Hardly ever recognized; concealed by the euphoria of her perfect life and in the way it was so gently unfolding before her. Filled with love and soft promises; filled with friends and family and so many people that she never really stopped to look upon her own inadequacy.

But it was always there, lurking. Waiting for opportune moments just like this to latch on to her like a leech.

“Do you regret marrying me, Amon?” she dared to ask, her voice faint.

A stiff quiet. When he didn’t respond, she drew in a slow breath and continued on; aware of the humiliating tears that ran down her face.

“I… I would understand. It can’t be easy, the jeers-”

“Stop.”

Her mouth snapped shut at the soft, compelling voice.

Scooting his stool closer, Amon rested his forehead against hers. Breathing in deeply and slowly; training her lungs to follow the sound of his breathing as his proximity steadied her. A warm circumference and warmer, dark eyes staring into hers.

“Why would you ask me such a thing?” he inquired in a hush. “Have I failed to prove how much I care about you? Is my affection not obvious? Do you doubt me?”

“N-No-”

“Then I ask you, as your friend and husband, not to disgrace us with such a question. It… It hurts me to think you would consider that I would turn you away just because a few people do not agree with what we are together.”

“And what we are together-” he murmured, pausing to press a kiss to the corner of each eye, “-is something marvelous and something that gives me hope, and joy, and all the satisfaction and love I could never hope to achieve otherwise.”

One side of her mouth tugged up into a ghost of a smile. A little forced, but growing less so as the gentle noblemen wiped the pad of his thumbs affectionately against her eyes and cheeks to dry her face.

Clearing his throat, Amon spoke once more; but with a hoarseness that wavered with the depth of his emotions: “I have everything I want; everything I need and adore and love, right in front of me. What more could I want out of life then you, my beautiful Essätha? You complete my world. You fit beside me so wonderfully. It is you that I desire to have, and no one else. I don’t care about the gossip they spread about me. But if what they say hurts you, I will do my best with all my power to stop it.”

Her lips trembled slightly. The strength of his words; the belief he held in them so strong and fierce. They were words of endearing truth. A momentum of his devotion to her, so ardently placed before her.

“I-I’m sorry,” she managed, voice wavering. “I… s-shouldn’t have asked-”

“Shhh,” he hushed, circling his fingers near her eyes to swipe away tears. “It is their words that stirred your doubt. But you have nothing to fear from me, my dear. You have me, and my heart. I love you, Essätha. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

A choked series of giggles slipped through as he peppered her cheeks with light, gentle brushes of his lips. Kissing away her tears, and rubbing his whiskers against her skin in accident quick strokes that tickled her face.

His hands still cupped her face tenderly as he came to a halt, forehead pressed to hers once more. Their softened breathes bathing against each other as mirrored eyes reflected into each other. The smell of honey on his tongue; the aroma of his addictive cologne against his skin.

Loud snuffling drew her glance, and ultimately Amon’s, to the door.

In the stairwell, a teary-eyed orc.

In the doorway to the tavern, five sets of eyes. The three elvish daughters of Barnabus, the barkeep himself, and his nephew all peeking in with red-eyed, grinning complexions of awe.

Heat burned into Essie’s face like a fire. Squeaking with horror, she pulled free of her beloved husband’s grasp to dive into his chest. Burying her embarrassed face, her hands clutching to his backside.

The rumble of his laughter against her was soft and gentle. His hands to her backside, stroking in gentle circles despite the flushed look against his own splotchy cheeks.

“The room’s clear if ya lovebirds ever want to remove yourself from Grbrysh’s workspace,” Barnabus teasing voice offered.

Only just peeking out from the shadowed safety of Amon’s arms, Essätha glimpsed upon his handsome, rugged face as he looked down to her with a wide and worshiping smile.

It made her smile in return, of course. His glee reflected into her heart with ease. It was infectious to look upon him and not find an infinite amount of reasons to be happy and grateful for her life. For the life they lead, together.

“I need to pay for the tea-”

“Aye- no,” Barnabus tutted, a waggle of his finger. “Your money’s no good here right now, miss. Owner says so.”

A giggle faintly, glancing with bashfulness to the staring eyes as she mumbled: “Well thank you, Grbrysh, for the tea, and thank you, sir Barnabus, for your everlasting kind nature.”

Bowing slightly as he swung the door the remainder of the way open, Barnabus gave a slight chuckle.

“Always a pleasure to be of service, lass.”

The orc gave a nod, still grinning as he sheepishly wiped at a tear upon the corner of his eye.

With a thankful sigh, Essätha turned her gaze back to the one burning into the side of her face. Calling to her, those gorgeous eyes and patient smile.

Her heart brimming; overflowing with her love for him too much to handle, she fell back into his chest to share some of that love with his own heart.

A faint grunt exuded Amon faintly. Without a moment’s hesitation, he buried his face into her hair. Breathing deeply, with sturdy hands embracing her close from behind.

Nothing ever felt so pure and so right in her life then being in his arms. It was indescribable. Nestled there, safe from harm and warmed by his gentleness and love.

Pleasantly, she inhaled the fragrance lingering on his clothes, and sank into the eternal comfort that was her perfect Lord Amon.

#eci artz #Essie rw #amon illiad #essamon ship #good content

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siocynder · 6 years

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Strong Females/Sensitive Males

All right, everyone. Time for another Sio Sit-down.

Again, my word is not the law, you can have an opinion, you can disagree, it may or may not work for you, blah blah bleeeh. On to the post!

I’m going to use the word “strong” a lot. And “masculine”…and “feminine”...You know what, just go with it.

Update Your Strong Females

Here’s the thing, these days strong female characters are a really big thing. Girls, women, even men, want to see strong female characters on screen and/or on the page. Want to know why? Not just because it’s empowering, but because it’s not shown correctly at times and we want the recognition.

Shoving a sword into their hand and making them bloodthirsty does not a strong female make.

You’ll need to work a little harder than that. Or, well, work less. I think the issue is that people think too hard and then the character comes out choppy and unlikable. Sometimes it’s the male writers that just can’t seem to grasp what a female is like because they just don’t know. And that’s okay. However, that just means you need to talk to more women and really figure out how things work, what they like and what they want to see. Women writers should do this as well because I feel like the fantasies of being a kick-butt woman get in the way of realizing they’re still human just like anyone else.

Strong females aren’t always the ones who hold a sword and kill people. *Gasp* I know, right? Shocker! Sometimes—and get this—they’re the ones that have no idea how to fight at all. Am I blowing your mind yet?

Look, there are a few things you should know about how to write a strong female.

All females are different. Some know how to fight, some don’t. Some know how to communicate, some don’t. But whether they do or not they’re still human, which means they have feelings and desires.

There are really no rules for this one. Just think of all the women in your life. Are they smart? Are they athletic? Are they loyal and supportive? Are they manipulative? Are they outspoken or quiet? These are all strong traits. So, why do people keep taking things that are typically viewed as masculine traits and putting them on a female body and cutting out all their emotions? It’s a cop-out for one. People think “strong” and match it with “man”. This isn’t necessarily wrong. There are women out there who carry masculine traits, but you can’t expect a reader to be okay with that all the time.

Let’s think about Harry Potter, a series with incredibly strong women in it. Hermione, for one, isn’t ready to jump into a battle and she’s not about to kill anyone and she isn’t an inherently angry person. Her strength comes from her intelligence and her confidence in herself despite what people think and say about her. She’s strong in her way to always be loyal and there for her friends. Do you know how much strength it takes to let someone vent to you and to be happy with the way you are even though everyone thinks so little of you?

What about Mrs. Weasley? She’s viewed as a housewife. She takes care of the kids, she cooks and cleans. Even still, she’s assertive and always there. She takes Harry in, knowing all the trouble to come. She will kill to protect her kids. Loving, loyal, protective.

Okay, but what about women who do fight? We could look at Annabeth from Percy Jackson. That girl could kick Percy’s butt, and, in fact, she does a few times. She knows how to fight, and she fights for her life every day. She also has the intelligence from being Athena’s daughter. Her confidence in herself and her abilities is what makes her Annabeth. Still, she’s got emotions. She’s dealing with the sadness of losing a friend, of not feeling like she’s part of her own family. She gets happy and angry and falls in love just like anyone else would. The ability to fight, to hold a sword, and to be confident (all things that could be viewed as masculine) don’t undermine the fact that she’s a female.

If you have a female that’s an assassin, she’s not just going to kill people without rhyme or reason. This girl is going to be like a male assassin: knows how to fight, intelligent, deals with everyday issues. The thing is, giving a female a role that’s typically viewed as “masculine” does not mean she’s suddenly without a heart or suddenly “strong”. Are you going to write a male character who walks around killing people and has the personality and emotions of a brick? I mean, you can, but there better be a good reason for it. Give that to a female and it looks like you couldn’t come up with anything useful and simply gave up half-way through character development.

If you want to write a strong female character, you need to view them as a woman first. Make them have feelings, make them have friends—for goodness sake, give them female friends that actually stick with them and not fight all the dang time (Yes, I will be talking about this at some point)—and let them be women. Just because they have breasts and feelings does not make them soft.

Please, please, remember that.

Don’t Be Scared Of Sensitive Males

This is the other side of the scale. We’re tipping it now. Whoop!

Now, one thing that becomes an issue is that female writers tend to overcompensate on male characters to make them overly masculine. You may need to reread that sentence because, yep, I just said that. I’m a female writer, so I get it. I mean, I did sort of diss male writers in the female section of this post. And they do it because…reasons? Fantasies of big strong men? So that they don’t seem like they’ve been written by a female? Could be anything really. Regardless, opposite sexes can have difficulty seeing the other side because they aren’t the other side.

That being said, male writers—and I’m not completely sure, so I may be grasping at straws—may be more scared to put a “feminine” trait to their males. Maybe it’s because they think it’s not right, maybe they think they’re making them too soft if they do (whatever that means), but I find there are some male writers that overcompensate as well. And they’re male themselves!

The last thing you want to do is make your male character seem like a female unintentionally. It all depends on if you want them to be more feminine or not in the end.

You don’t need to push your male characters to be ridiculously “masculine”. They don’t need to like hunting or sex, or push themselves onto their female counterparts (again, I’ll be getting to this in another post). Not all men are like that. Some of them like music or dance. Some of them are asexual. Some of them were raised by their mothers and have a more gentleman-like behavior (not saying all men raised by mothers are gentlemen, it’s just an example).

Just like I said with the strong female characters, it’s okay for your men to have feelings. Sure, they think differently, but they still have emotions: sadness, loneliness, happiness, anger. Surprise, men are human too!

As a female, it can be hard to figure out how to write a male. Talk to more men then, get to know them, discover how different they are. I have a male friend who loves cuisine and cooking. It’s his passion. He has a home, a girlfriend, and a dog, and likes to cook. Why is it that giving a male the ability to cook instantly makes them feminine or too sensitive? Men can have passions other than wanting to get into a girl’s pants and wanting to kill/beat up people.

My own father was raised by his mother. He does the cooking in the family, and he loves children: things that are mostly considered “feminine”. Even still, he knows how to fight and he’s intelligent, and he’s loyal and caring. It’s okay to have all those things in a character. Portraying these things—a man crying, a man expressing his feelings, a man liking a hobby that is different from “masculine” activities—is okay!

In fact, please do! I’m tired of reading broody men who do nothing but hide their feelings and push people around with their always-annoyed attitude. Please don’t make them generic copies of a brick wall.

Just don’t forget that they’re men. Just like you can’t forget that a strong female is still a woman.

Men are going to think and talk differently. They’re going to notice things differently from girls. For example, they might not notice that the flowers on the table are particularly beautiful, but they’ll still notice them. If they’re straight, they’ll notice the girl and her body, but maybe not so much that her guy friend has amazing biceps.

I, personally, write male characters more than females. And that’s just because I grew up around males. Males were easier for me to get along with and learn about. I have more guy friends than I do female friends, so my male characters are much easier to write. You just need to get out there and talk to guys and experience that connection more. People-watching isn’t illegal—unless you start to follow them or watch through their windows. Don’t do that.

Harry Potter, since we were talking about him, can be a sensitive male. He feels for the lack of family, for the burden of his future. He vents and cries and has crushes and loves. But he knows how to fight. And he’s stubborn and determined. These things balance each other out. He’s still a man in the end.

There are even male characters out there that don’t like to fight and yet still managed to be a man. Not all of them need to have inherently masculine traits. That’s not what I’m saying. However, if you’re struggling in the beginning to write a sensitive male character then a balance, in the beginning, is a good idea.

Think Radu from the And I Darken Series. I love him. He’s not strong in the ways that Lada is (who is supposed to be a gender bent version of Vlad the Impaler, how cool is that? Want to read a strong female character done right? Read And I Darken.). Radu doesn’t like to fight and he’s more likely to use his brain than his fists. Does that make him weak because he doesn’t have “strong masculine” traits? Not at all!

Even gay characters have strong personality traits. It’s okay to write a character that’s very feminine, but there better be a dang good reason for it. Not because it’s a stereotype or because you just don’t know how to write a male character. Gay men can still be assertive and know how to kick butt and be masculine. Just like lesbians can be sensitive and girly.

And just like there should be a good reason to have an overly-feminine male, there should be a reason to have an overly-masculine male. Don’t just make these characters because you don’t know how to write them and have simply thought, “Meh, it’s okay. I don’t need to plan them anymore.” Those traits and personalities need to be part of the character, not simply you giving up and not trying.

Beginner writers often make the mistake where they plan their first book and they want to have a strong male and strong female. This usually results in an overly-masculine man and an overly-feminine female. Ditch the sexes for a second. What you want is strong PEOPLE. Balance is incredibly important.

Let’s look at some popular shows, like Supernatural. There’s a fanbase that loves the bromance in this show because the characters have heart-to-hearts, they’re emotional, they’re loyal. However, they’re still seen as men. What about Star Trek or Stargate? A group of guys that bond and have a connection yet are very strong male leads regardless. Of course, sometimes the writers try to soften the blow and make them have those connections in the infirmary when their supposed guard is down. Even still, it’s still predominant.

Orphan Black, Sarah Manning, is an incredibly strong female. She has a daughter and she’s a little lost in the world, but she’s totally ready to take charge when she needs to and she’s willing to put herself into danger for her friends and family. And her brother, Felix? He’s gay. Does that stop him from being a sensitive yet strong male character? No. He has his balance between loving his family, wanting to love, and ready to kick-butt if someone tries to harm anyone he loves.

And I’m not saying these overly-sensitive men or overly-strong females don’t exist. They sure as heck do. However, what I am saying is that if you’re going to do it you need to remember that they’re human. They better be believable and likeable.

Leave a comment or a question if you’d like. There are things I know I’ve missed, but I don’t want to overload the posts, so I’ll just go with this for now.

Sio.

#writing tips #sio sit-down #strong females #sensitive males #hopefully this helps

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purple-possibilities · 7 years

Note

(for the modified fmk meme): Madara, Sakumo, Kakashi 💖

Hmmm… (as usual, this got too long. Check it out under the cut!)

Slow burn with Kakashi

I’m going with this because I feel like everyromance with Kakashi is somehow slow burn. Like, even if this was the Fake Dating or Enemies to Lovers, it would beslow af. Maybe not on my part (becauseanyone who doesn’t know that I’m already in love with him probably just arrivedfrom another galaxy) but Kakashi seems to me like someone who would need a lot of time to a) realise he hasromantic feelings, b) accept thoseromantic feelings, and c) act on those romantic feelings. One does not push Kakashi into anything, methinks, and I feel like, unless he was in the stage where he was trying to workup the courage to make a move, he would not react well to any romanticovertures. So slow burn it is!

I… have no clue how this would happen.

Uh… I hate to be obvious, but I think itwould be an Icha Icha thing. Like, bothof us reaching for the last copy of the new Icha Icha movie at the same time,fighting over who gets to buy it, and eventually agreeing that Kakashi can keepit if he lets me come over and watch it whenever. He totally does not agree and takes the movieand runs, leaving me to pay for it. Itotally find Gai and get him to bring me to Kakashi’s apartment.

Even if Kakashi isn’t there, Gai and I find ourway into Kakashi’s apartment so I can get that DVD or VHS or whatever formatthis movie is in, I don’t understand technology in the Narutoverse. So I’ve got the movie hostage, and Gai is doinga wonderful job keeping Kakashi distracted with relentless challenges so I canactually watch this film (thanks Gai, you’re a star).

At some point—probably while I’m still watching the movie—Kakashi hunts me down to get the movie back. He, of course, cannot leave while the movie is on, and he watches therest of it with me, before trying to take the DVD (it’s a DVD now, officially)and run. I, of course, argue that it’sactually mine since he left me to pay for it, and he’s the thief.

It turnsinto a game of cat and mouse, where we’re both cats and that DVD is the mousewe’re fighting over. Eventually, I startstealing his other Icha Icha things, as a ‘replacement’ for him stealing my DVD. This, of course, does not go over well, and Kakashi begins to steal my Icha Icha things.

This eventually escalates to the point of him stealing mylimited edition, Icha Icha thong (its bright orange with the red circle withthe strike through it on the crotch), and I—of course—offer to model it forhim (am I joking? Probably not). I think, that’s when he starts thinking of meas a woman and not someone fighting over Icha Icha things.

So he starts getting kind of flustered, butthings continue on in this manner, for a while (I, of course, steal his IchaIcha boxers. He finds me wearing themand an old shirt so short it might as well be a crop top one day, watching the Icha Icha DVD we first started fighting over,because of course I’d wear his underwear do you even know me? He maybe doesn’t wash them after. I feel like Kakashi has a thing for underwearlol). Maybe I start hitting on him withthe cheesiest lines from Icha Icha. Heis too flustered to reciprocate.

Some time later, Kakashi comes over to my place with the originalDVD we were fighting over, and offers it to me. It’s his subtle way of confessing his feelings. But, I get really sad about his offer, because Iconsider it him saying ‘we need to stop these silly games I don’t want you inmy life anymore.’ I tell him to keep itas a parting gift. He gets all sad andconfused, but leaves.

We don’t see eachother for a while, until Jiraiya gets involved. He was totally shipping it (his two biggest fans finding love because ofhis series? Jiraiya would go crazy forthat). Jiraiya goes to talk to Kakashiabout it, and tries to encourage him to make a move, but Kakashi doesn’tlisten. So then Jiraiya comes to me toexplain what Kakashi meant by giving me the DVD, and I don’t believe himeither.

Then one day, I find the DVD in my apartment. I get mad and go over to Kakashi’s place togive it back, because I gave it to youdammit you can’t give back a gift and maybe I start getting pushy andKakashi starts getting frustrated and I say something stupid like I don’t want it because every time I see itI think about you and how you want nothing to do with me and then somethingclicks in his head about why I thought him giving me the DVD was agoodbye. He tells me he didn’t mean itlike that, he just thought he’d be a gentleman and let the lady have theDVD. I’d tell him that gentlemen don’t steal women’s lingerieand he of course blushes red all the way up to his ears.

At this point, it goes one of two ways. Either we confess to each other or kiss orsomething and then continue to date like two awkward high schoolers, OR things sorta go back to how they were before,only we’re both super blushie and awkward and like ‘idk what’s going on’ andthe slow burn continues until one day we’re doing our ‘I’m not flirting’-flirtingand someone (probably Jiraiya, or hell, maybe Tsunade or Anko) yells “JUST KISSALREADY!” because dear god is it painful to watch us draw things out so long.

And we of course try to deny it like whaaa? Why would you— “It’s—we—but—“ and that same someone is like “Youtwo are so obvious everyone can see you have feelings for each other justconfess already,” and we’re like Well, Imean, if you liked me, I could like you… “Maa, I could take you out, if youwanted, since I am a gentleman…” and then we start dating like two awkwardhigh schoolers. Until we figure shit outand then it’s just a really laid back, kinky relationship.

Jiraiya’s next Icha Icha is about us. It’s his bestselling series.

Fake dating with Sakumo

I… also have no clue how this would work.

Hmm… Sakumo’s friends are pushing him to ‘getback out there’ after Kakashi’s mom dies. He totally isn’t ready for that. I—being the best bro a bro could ask for—tell him to tell his friendsthat he’s asked me out, so they get off his back. His friends don’t believe him, and ask whattime this date is for, and where. And ofcourse Sakumo realises they’re going to spy on him. So we go on this fake date, and Sakumo issuch a perfect gentlemen, but is totally not ready to be dating, so he’s politebut not really flirty.

After the date, his friends ask him how it went (they know,they think it was a dud because there was no goodnight kiss and like, no chemistry) and he tells themthat we’re going out again. And theycontinue to follow him, so we continue having to date, for like a few months. We figure we don’t need to dateforever, just long enough for it to look like he got attached, and then endthings.

So we end up fake dating for like, six months, and Sakumofake confesses his love for me, and I fake confess back. We plan the break up for the seventh month,but at that point Sakumo is like, ‘you know, I just enjoy spending time withyou. You don’t pressure me into doingsomething I’m not comfortable with, and it’s nice to have adult company”—hemostly spends time with Kakashi and Jiraiya (who definitely doesn’t constituteas an ‘adult’ even though he is over 25 years old at this point)—“We can keeppretend dating, if you want?” and he genuinely means it as friends. I’m cool with this, because while he’sdelicious he’s been broadcasting pretty platonically, and if I have feelings atthis point I’m pretending they don’t exist/stamping them down because I’mpretty sure I don’t have a chance. But Iagree to keep going on these fake dates, because it’s nice to be taken out andthere’s no one I’m interested in, so why not?

Sakumo had been keeping me away from Kakashi so as not to confusehim, (because Kakashi is like, four or five at this point) but since we’repretty close as friends, I finally get the introduction. We start going out together and doing familythings, and Kakashi—little genius that he is—asks if I’m Sakumo’sgirlfriend. Which Sakumo of coursedenies, very flustered (“where did Kakashi learn about dating?” Sakumo laterasks, totally one of those parents who sees his baby as totally innocent andpure lol). Kakashi just gives him a “Mmhmm…”and that deadpan stare he’s known for. Kakashi is also probably a little shit towards me, because he’d bejealous that someone is taking his tousan’s time.

Eventually, Sakumo gets comfortable with thearrangement. Maybe he starts to let outsome of his flirty side (and he’s so dangerous while he’s flirting, you’d needa chastity belt not to get pulled under him lol). It’s that kind of dark suggestive flirting that gets your heart pumpingand thinking about things between the sheets. So I start flirting back, because I’m a competitive flirter, you don’tfluster me I fluster you what is this??? And then maybe the flirting goes too far and we end up in bed because we’vebeen fake dating for like two years what is this slow burn bs this was supposedto be the fake dating trope it can’t be both.

Sakumo gets cold feet and is like, “this can’t happenagain! I can’t!” And I totally respectthat. So we break up. And we’re both mopey about it. Kakashi notices that his tousan is being asad bean, and finally is like “Jiraiya-sama says you can fix any problem with a ladywith flowers and a lot of begging.” And Sakumo goes red and gets all flustereddenies that anything is wrong, but of course Kakashi gives him that deadpanstare and adds “he said chocolates help too, but who likes chocolate? You should make her some miso witheggplant. That would probably workbetter.” And Sakumo laughs wetly and hugs cute little Kakachibi, and gets readyto follow Kakashi’s advice (minus the soup lol).

Sakumo does do the cliché, kneeling outside your door withflowers and begging to be taken back, and how can I say no to that??? Do youknow who I am (and how weak I am to the Hatake family)??? Of course I take him back, and we make sweet,sweet love lol. I ask Sakumo whatbrought on the change, and he tells me it was Kakashi, so I make the kiddo his favourite soup as a thanks. We’re chill after that haha.

Enemies to Lovers with Madara

It is so easy to be enemies with Madara. Madara makes enemies with like, theneighbourhood cats, the squirrels in the backyard, the ducks in the river that’slike a two mile walk from his house (one of the ducks got in his way while hewas practising skipping stones. He was going to make it all the way acrossthe river that time, if it weren’t for those stupid ducks!). Like, Madarawould make an enemy with himself, it’s just so easy to become enemies with thisman. Even in AUs. But why are we enemies, hmm…

I caught him yelling at the ducks and made fun of him. Obviously. He totally didn’t like that. Iwas a pretty shy kid (let’s say we’re 11 or 12ish in this scenario), but Madarais just the type of bully that has always pulled me out of my shell. I also have always had an uncanny ability tounderstand what makes people tick, and I may have used that a lot to tellbullies off (it was too much power in too small hands. I hurt a lot of kidsworse than they probably deserved. They did stop trying to bully me and myfriends though, which worked out for me). So I of course ruin Madara with some casual observation of hisinadequacies (you’re mad at the ducksbecause you can’t admit that you’re just not all that great, and you’ll neverbe anything more than a kid who can’t even admit that he’s not good enough toskip a stone across a river). Hewill vow revenge on me (like he does everything else) and practice even harderto skip that damn stone across the river.

Madara ends up “casually” bumping into me to brag aboutthings, and I very skeptically don’t believe him, and get even meaner with mywords—although at this point it’s unintentional (it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself, not me, and you’renot very good at that either). I don’tactually hate him (I don’t hate people) but braggarts do bother the shit out of me, and Madara’s attitude will have merolling my eyes and moving on, not impressed. He tries to be mean back, telling me I’m stupid and ugly and useless,but I’d just shrug him off because whywould I care if some loser thinks I’m stupid or ugly or useless? A loser’s opinion doesn’t mean anything.

Madara ends up getting teased by other people for how mucheffort he puts into proving himself to me. Meanwhile, I’m just living my life, not really thinking about him. Madara’s spends so much time trying toimpress me that, even though he hates me, he is very desperately looking for myapproval. He seems like the type of guyto very easily fall into this situation.

So he takes me to the river one day, and shows me that he can skip the stupidrock all the way across to the other bank. Wow, Madara. You’re soooo talented. You can finally skip a rock across ariver. That’s soooo useful (did Imention that I was a very sarcastic child?). So Madara is even more frustrated, because even though he’s completedhis task I’m still not giving him the praise and adoration he feels is hisdue.

Then Madara starts trying to impress me with otherthings. And I remain unimpressed. So he tries harder. Eventually, I get tired of this. Look,Madara. Do you even really care what Ithink? Or is this just you beinginsecure and desperately looking for external reassurances, because you don’tlike yourself enough to actually believe in your own worth? I’m no one specialto impress; I’m just some kid who didn’t like seeing you throw rocks at ducks. Because I didn’t own kiddie gloves whenI was a kid and I was the type of person who encouraged metacognitive reflectionon the self (yeah, I was a weird kid).

So Madara stomps off and decides he’s got nothing to proveto me, because, like I said, he really has no reason to want to impress me. I can’teven skip stones, what does my opinion matter? And maybe I start to get lonely without his constant company. It’s nice to feel important, like you havesome sort of inherent value to another person, for whatever reason. Kind of an ego boost.

I miss him. Madara is just grumpier, because he’s the type of person who needs agoal or he goes kind of crazy, and he also feels like he wasted all this timetrying to impress me when that is, like, actually literally impossible.

I start to feel super guilty. I talk to my mom about it, and she tells mehow horribly mean I’ve been, and I feel worse. So I eventually go to apologize, and to tell him that he really is greatat skipping stones, and he just totally doesn’t want to hear it. I pushed things too far. He actually doesn’t want anything to do withme. I sigh and say I’m sorry for beingso mean, and then I leave.

Some time passes, like, a few months. I find Madara one day sulking, and I ask him what’swrong. He doesn’t want to talk at first,but ends up ranting about Hashirama and their competition and the pressure hefeels from his dad, and while I’m listening I suddenly realise that I was notknocking down a kid who thought too much about himself, but actually stompingon the ego of someone who legitimately needed encouragement.

I tell him that, while I don’t think skippingstones is an important talent, the fact that he managed to reach his goal ofskipping a stone all the way across the river shows that, when he puts his mindto something, he can get it done. So ofcourse I believe in him, and his ability to exceed his father’s goals andHashirama’s talents, because no one is as stubborn as Madara.

ButI add Whether I believe in you or notshouldn’t matter. It’s whether youbelieve in you that’s important. Andobviously you do, or else you would have given up on getting that stone acrossthe river, instead of trying again and again until you could do it.

Madara, who probably hasn’t been given a lot of encouragementin his life, is like “woah my god, recognition!” and maybe it fries his preteenbrain just a little, and he goes all red and stuttery.

And so, he tries to impress me even more, andI’m totally encouraging him at this point. And we grow up together, and we get closer, and we hit puberty and startgrowing up and maybe that translates into some tentative hand-holding and shy,awkward kisses, and we haven’t said that we’re dating but like, we’re totallydating.

Life goes on. Izunadies. Konoha is formed. Madara starts to feel unimportant again. I’m not enough to convince him of hisworth. He tells me about his plans toleave the village, and asks me to come with him. I tell him he’s crazy and should stay. That’s obviously the wrong thing to say, andhe leaves without me. Or maybe hehypnotises me into coming with him with his Sharingan (I honestly wouldn’t putit past him). Who knows.

If I stay in the village, then its Lovers to Enemies, and wekind of go full circle. I probably don’tsee him again once he’s presumed dead, and I never get married and diealone.

If I get kidnapped, Madara eventually has to change the genjutsuhe’s used on me, because he doesn’t want a zombie, he wants me. So he makes up some lie about why we had to leave, and keeps me verysecluded from the outside world. Henever tells me his Infinite Tsukuyomi plan, and once he attaches himself to thetree, he has a hard time keeping me on a leash (he’s cocky enough to think thathe’s prepared enough contingencies for me to never find out the truth). But it comes out eventually, and I try toescape (no such luck, Zetsu is hard to escape) and either I get furtherbrainwashed, or killed. Either way, I’mnot me anymore.

Wow, that got dark (and holy shit this is over 3.2k). This is like, my holy trinity ask, lol! I hada lot of fun with this, so thank you for the ask!

Up next is:

Izumo/Raido/Genma (now done!)

Sakura/Ino/Temari

Already done:

Jiraiya/Ibiki/Iruka

Put 3 characters in my inbox and I’ll tell you who I’d slow burn/fake date/enemies to lovers with

#answered asks #sufferthesea #slow burn/fake date/enemies to lovers #uchiha madara #hatake kakashi #hatake sakumo #papamo #kakachibi #just a little piece i wrote

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