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missinghan · 3 years

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falling for the first time ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : hogwarts au; fluff

❖ word count : 2,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : your plan of putting all effort into avoiding bang chan as much as possible has been going smoothly for almost seven years until he asks you for a dance at the Yule Ball. or alternatively, your families hate each other but wait...has he always had those golden flecks in his eyes?

❖ author’s note : here’s the song they’re dancing to 🖤

one.

The once cold ballroom has waited for eons it seems, for a real heart to beat a new rhythm into the matter that made it.

Meanwhile, you too have been waiting (for two-ish hours) in the corner with your cup of root beer abandoned at a table for your dance partner. You’re currently half-clutching your dress and half-panicking because Chan wouldn’t miss an event as extravagant as the Yule Ball. He’s not the type to be sour over little things either just because he didn’t win the Triwizard Tournament. Or perhaps someone else just happened to ask him?

A blood-curdling shriek bursts your eardrums.

Jeongin gives you a nudge with his elbow from behind. “Grilled scream-cheese?” he asks with a mouthful of gluten and carbs, a plate of a sandwich with a (literally) screaming slice of cheese slapped in the middle.

“No, my appetite is ruined,” you say, pushing it away slightly and heaving an audible sigh.

The Ravenclaw boy makes an alarming noise—something similar to ‘uh-oh’ and swallows the big bite from before as fast as he can. “Where’s Chan?”

You only shrug, “Don’t know. Don’t care.” If only you could do that with the train of thoughts that have been going in and out of your ears for the past a hundred and twenty minutes.

“Y/N, you look troubled,” he purses his lips, frowning at you.

“I’m not,” you voice in denial, trying your best not to come off as snappy. No, you will not give up your facade that easily. You won’t leave Chan’s ego nor Jeongin to rest without a fight by saying that you actually want to dance with the heathen!

“Yeah right, let me-“

“Don’t. What if he’s already asked someone else?” You momentarily shudder at how sad you sound. The root beer shouldn’t have hit you this hard. “I mean look at him, he’s Bang Chan. I’m pretty sure those girls from Beauxbatons have been eyeing him up and down since the Tournament.��

Jeongin lets out a huff of laughter in disbelief. “Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“One of you guys could have asked me. Or I should have paid Jisung to be my partner yesterday. I just, I don’t know, what am I saying? I’m confused.”

Your friend is officially done with your bullshit so he decides for himself that he will now set down his food to make your first and last Yule Ball arguably unforgettable. “Honestly? I can lie and say I would dance with you if you weren’t so full of pride. But truth is, none of us asked you to dance because we all know how badly Chan wants this opportunity. Wake the fuck up! He’s been planning this since forever. I’ll go look for him, wait here,” he points a finger at you before running off, leaving your heartbeat pause awkwardly like a broken record.

The ballroom feels significantly colder now.

“Miss Y/N?”

Ah, perfect timing. What’s another way to phrase ‘being an absolute idiot at a ball’? Oh right, it’s ‘talking to your professor five minutes before the first dance while your friends are socializing left and right’.

“Yes, Headmistress McGonagall?”

Your professor peers around when she realizes that you’re all alone. “Are you and Mister Bang ready?”

“R-ready?” Suddenly, you feel out of place.

“Well, of course. It’s only traditional that the three champions start the first dance!”

“Oh.”

two.

Only the celestial bodies above can know how melancholy you are. But you’re met with a sky without stars tonight.

With your head on your elbows, lips pressed into a straight line, your gaze falls from the endless canvas of darkness to the hustle and bustle of students leaving the Great Hall to head back to their designated dormitories. A sigh. You definitely don’t need to know what they’re going to do for the after-party. Ryujin used to show you an article on this peculiar machine called ‘a laptop’ that the more you sigh, the faster you age. If Chan keeps doing shit like this to you, you’re gonna be all old and wrinkly by the time he comes here.

If he is going to show up at all that is.

The moment you peel your eyes away from the overcrowded main gate, a broad figure is shuffling himself through his drunk Quidditch teammates, sloppy couples, and burnt out professors. He dashes through the empty hallways to reach the spiral staircase, skipping three steps at a time, risking the chances of falling on his face just to get to you.

Pulling himself to a halt at the last step, Chan sees you all curled up against the balcony railings and feels a pang of guilt wash over his innards like a wave. You’re pulling your legs toward your chest, defeated eyes gazing into the space ahead while your hair falls to your face messily. Like you’ve gone through the depths of the Fourth Dimension, struggling through dark matters and a rite of divinity at the end of the line. All for him.

You’re beautiful.

And the amount of affection that’s piling upon his rib cage? Astronomical.

Your gaze is averted away; even with a slight scowl, sloppy clothes and messed up hair, you still flare radiance. He thinks that if a meteor shower is happening right now, you can still outshine it. “You came,” you mention.

For once, Chan finds himself at a loss for words. “Y-Yeah,” he manages to swallow. Yeah? What the fuck, Chan? Is that all you’ve got to say?

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N. Yeji accidentally mistook one of Minho’s potions for her allergy medicine so I gotta take care of that before coming,” he scratches his forearm awkwardly, head hung low with guilt. “I didn’t know it would take that long…”

“Oh.” Wow, jealous stinks. This isn’t pre-school, you’d better snap out of it. “Let’s head back. I wanna check on her before passing out.”

“She’s fine now, sleeps like death. Chaeryeong is there too, you know, just in case.” Chan feels perplexed as he tries to coax anything but the ‘head back’ option from you.

You tilt your head. “And...?”

“I’m afraid you owe me something?” A slow smile begins to outstretch upon his facial muscles, deepening the dimples on either side of his cheeks that you adore the most. “A dance, I believe,” he makes a thinking face while striding toward you.

Coldly, you stand up to dust your dress. “I don’t want to.” You’re not having it, he can tell. But does Bang Chan ever give up?

“A bet is a bet, Y/N.”

Chan’s hand fishes inside the pocket of his trench coat to take out his wand. His hand delicately gives it a swift flick; once, and twice followed by a low mumble from his lips. Immediately, light pulses from the tip of the wand before shooting upward, disintegrating into a million bits as though a starry night is embracing the both of you. He does the same action again to cast a different spell. Music laces through every fiber of air without effort, like honey being poured into your ears.

“It’s just one bet,” he pouts with a hand fully extended toward you.

You should have realized how good Chan looks tonight. A black dress shirt that’s buttoned below appropriate, matching trench coat, silver accessories lining his fingers and ears with naturally tousled hair from running here. He looks so gorgeous that it almost suffocates you, that it almost makes you want to hiss ‘fucking unfair’ out loud.

Enchanted by his poise and grace, your body reacts without the consent of your mind. You seize up when you unknowingly place your hand on top of his, the touch sending electricity down your spine. A simple response has become all too complicated for your brain to process.

You grow breathless the moment he grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against him. “Yeah, a bet so you’ll leave me alone,” you remark sarcastically to ease your nerves.

“Look, it’s not my fault that the Goblet of Fire chose me to participate in the Tournament,” Chan chuckles lowly, eyes crinkling into crescent moon shapes while he sways you to the soft melody. Dots of light continue to float around weightlessly, reflecting the golden flecks in his eyes. He’s ethereal in the worst way—the way that isn’t healthy for your heart.

But you soon slap on another scowl when you realize he just reminded you of why you’re even here in the first place. If only you weren’t so salty about Slytherin winning your team over at the final Quidditch match before the holiday occurs. Let’s just say you weren’t exactly in the best mind state after getting your ass kicked in your favorite sport.

And Chan wasted no time to slip in between the line of comical humor and your ultimate torment. Which results in—if you get to attend the Triwizard Tournament, he will leave you alone for the rest of your life; but if he is the chosen one, he gets a dance with you at the Yule Ball.

It’s really not all that bad if you think twice about it. Dancing with Bang Chan, the Slytherin’s Quidditch team captain, the student with perfect academics and conduct for six years straight, and now one of the Triwizard Tournament champions this year.

Music threads through the atmosphere and lifts away gravity. You can’t count how many times you have stepped on his toes due to nervousness because you’re too much of a coward to look him in the eye. But he’s the only thing you can seem to focus on right now.

“Besides, don’t you think this is a good opportunity to get rid of the tension between us?” Chan asks honestly, and this causes you to perk up.

“What?”

Lights are twinkling with every step as Chan spins you around gently, your dress billowing out prettily as your heels click against the cold concrete. After that, he swiftly pulls you back into his arms and you exhale in relief like you were meant to be there all this time.

“Don’t act dumb, you’re terrible at it. I know the only reason why you’ve been avoiding me since first year was because of our families’ stupid grudge. ”

Your eyes are cast downward, sadness glinting in your round pupils. “Either way, my parents wouldn’t like to see me talking to you. And look at what we’re doing. It’s going to be catastrophic if they find out.”

“Well, they can’t just magically appear now, can they?” Chan leans a little closer to lock his eyes with yours.

And you break it seconds later because you’re an absolute coward for a Gryffindor. “We’re attending a magic school. Anything is possible.”

“Did they even tell you what the actual problem was in the first place?” he huffs out in faint annoyance.

You shake your head. “I don’t think they’d even remember.”

“Then would you stop giving me that look as if I just shooed your owl way every time I said ‘hi’ on my way to class? Have you ever thought about my feelings? About us being civil for once? Like friends? Or even more so?”

“I-“

“We’re not our parents, Y/N.”

Your heart becomes all erratic at his words. It’s nothing like those fully-fledged, tear-jerking nor cheesyass confessions that you’ve gawked at one too many times, but it makes your heart flutter and stirs up those cliché butterflies inside your stomach. This can’t be compared to the Yule Ball—it’s even better than that. Because it feels as though you and Chan are the only presences that graze the surface of this land. There’s no one to judge, no fingers to point, no gossip spreading like wildfire.

It’s perfect. Almost.

“Us...it’s not- it can’t happen. It’s not supposed to happen. It’s not possible, Chan.”

Wordlessly, he stops, moves both of your hands to his shoulders, and wraps his arms around your torso. The sound of your heartbeat against his is so in sync they just drown out the music completely. Time is frozen in place, leaving you to hang on the edge with him, hanging onto this single moment as thin as the red string of fate. You’re waiting for him to do something, say something.

Just then, Chan cracks a wry smile and pulls you closer by the nape of your neck, resting his forehead comfortably on yours. “We’re attending a magic school. Anything is possible.”

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sparring-hyena · 3 years

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again and again.

i think this kinda counts as a groundhog day-esque AU with some quirky time travel mixed in for fun. is that even a thing? idk.

OR, time is complicated, and so is love. here’s a story about both.

“i will destroy you,” Poppy says, her tone razor-edged and precise. she feels a pulsing thing beneath her skin. something that warns her to tread carefully in a manner that’s much too pleased for the situation at hand.

“good luck with that,” AJ answers, her tone somehow daring to be amused.

and then a beat. a moment that exists only between the two of them. it rings loud in Poppy’s mind. thrums along in time with that pulsing thing beneath her skin. it’s warning her about something. telling her to make the right choice, as though it’ll be forced to do something if she doesn’t do this right.

pshhh. ridiculous.

“i hate you.”

and that’s the last thing she says before the pulsing thing expands and consumes her whole. it drags her away from the fountain and AJ and that clear night in May, and drops her in bed just as her alarm to wake up goes off.

Poppy sits up in bed, her hair a tussled mess, and watches as her phone buzzes and plays that horrible alarm tune on the nightstand.

strange, she thinks, reaching out to silence the damn thing. she checks the date, which is right, but the time is, decidedly, wrong. it was well after ten at night the last she checked, only now her phone is telling her it’s nine o’clock in the morning. she pads to the windows and peers outside, and sure enough, the sun is in the sky. it’s morning.

a dream then, right? it must’ve been. her loss and meltdown and run-in with AJ at the fountain, it was a dream and now she’s awake. good, she didn’t really lose to AJ-fucking-Hughes.

she showers and dresses and heads downstairs in search of something quick to eat. Veronica is in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone as she waits for her coffee to brew. she looks up and nods in greeting, and Poppy’s suddenly hit with a very strange sense of déjà vu.

“you ready for tonight?” Veronica asks, head still buried in her phone.

Poppy hums and then, unsure of why, she says, “i had the strangest dream.” the pulsing thing returns. a warning. a caution. a very much not-exclusive-to-dreams thing.

be careful, it sing-songs.

“oh yeah.” Veronica looks up, suddenly curious.

“yeah, it was…” she’s actually not quite sure of what to make of it. of what hidden insecurity it sheds light onto. maybe she shouldn’t say anything then. best to keep her cards close to her chest—they are competing against each other after all. “nothing. it’s nothing. never mind.”

Veronica shrugs and returns to her phone.

her day carries on as it usually would and before she knows it, she’s stepping onto the red carpet for the awards show. cameras flash and she smiles as she presses through, as though feeding off the attention.

and then the end of the night comes and— AJ wins. AJ wins. AJ-fucking-Hughes. Poppy’s shouting and cursing before she can stop herself. she’s peripherally aware of her parents calling out to her, begging her to stop, but that pulsing thing beneath her skin hums with energy. it tells her this is right. that this is how it needs to be. so she doesn’t stop.

she doesn’t stop until she’s out of breath and finally realises what she’s done. and then she slips outside and tries to disappear for a moment at the fountain.

she takes deep breaths, paces back-and-forth, and tries to figure out where it all went so wrong. and how— she’s back at the fountain. the same fountain she was at in her dream. how the fuck?

second time’s the charm, right?

and— what? second time?

yes, do try and keep up.

“fuck you,” she thinks, she says, speaking aloud into the world.

“you say the sweetest things to me,” a voice, it’s AJ’s voice.

Poppy spins around, absolutely fuming, and with déjà vu sitting heavy in her mind. this is just like her dream. how the fuck can this be just like her dream?

the pulsing amps up, thrumming along her veins. this is it, it says, excited and breath held in quiet anticipation.

it? what the fuck does that mean?

there’s a moment where it looks like AJ is about to extend an olive branch. where she offers one of those small and hesitant smiles that asks for a do-over. but Poppy’s learnt her lesson. she knows that branches almost always have thorns. so instead of accepting AJ’s hand, she slaps it away and says something cruel. something prickly and sharp that slices at skin and won’t ever really heal.

“i hate you,” she spits, just like in her goddamn dream.

the pulsing thing doesn’t like that. it tells her no, you’ve done it wrong again, and then rips her away and throws her back into bed as her alarm to wake up goes off.

she sits up in bed and is more pissed than anything else. her alarm is still ringing and vibrating like everything’s okay—everything is not okay. because she’s in her bed again and her alarm is vibrating and it’s somehow morning again.

she gets out of bed and marches downstairs, more determined than ever to finally get some answers.

she finds Veronica in the kitchen, just like in her dreams that didn’t at all feel like dreams.

“you ready for—”

“what the fuck is happening right now?”

Veronica blinks. takes a second to properly wake up. “uh, what?”

“this.” she gestures widely to everything and that little pulsing thing warns her again. “what the fuck is this? what is happening?”

“are you high?”

“what? no, i’m not high. i just want an answer. why have i already lived through this morning twice?”

and she never does get an answer because the pulsing thing yanks her back and drops her bed just as her alarm is going off. again.

Poppy screams into her pillow and the pulsing thing says sorry, but you broke a rule, i had to pull you back.

and suddenly Poppy’s demanding answers from this stupid pulsing thing, but it remains silent.

so she pulls herself out of bed and tries again.

attempt number four goes wrong around noon, and attempts five through nine are all spectacular disasters because Poppy decides that she just does not give a fuck.

if some cruel force of the universe wants to lock her in this never ending purgatory, then so be it. she’s done enough shitty things in life and probably deserves it.

attempt number ten goes better. it still goes wrong because she got into a fight with AJ and apparently that’s not how it’s supposed to go, but she overhears a conversation between Chloe and Veronica and realises just how horrible she’s been to them.

she stays in bed for the entirety of attempt number eleven.

the pulsing thing begs her to get up, says please, i only want to help. but Poppy doesn’t buy it. who would want to help her?

the pulsing thing goes quiet and gently pulls her back until it’s 9 o’clock in the morning and her alarm is going off again.

c’mon, one more time. please? the pulsing thing asks as soon as attempt number twelve starts.

Poppy sighs but gets out of bed anyway. she can do this one more time. she finds Veronica in the kitchen just like the last eleven times and feels strangely compelled to say something new.

“i wasn’t a very good friend, was i?”

Veronica looks up from her phone, wary but curious.

the pulsing thing says no, not yet. but Poppy ignores it and pushes on. and as soon as she gets to the end of her apology, the pulsing thing pulls her away and drops her back in bed just as the alarm is going off.

not yet, it says.

“then when?” Poppy shouts at the top of her lungs. “when do you want me to start being better?”

she gets no response from the pulsing thing, but Chloe does knock on her door and ask if everything’s okay. she snaps at Chloe, tells her to go away, even though she knows she shouldn’t and wishes she didn’t.

she decides then that she’s done playing this stupid game.

she shaves her head during one version of the day and streaks across campus in another version because fuck it, no one will remember.

it’s during attempt twenty-one that she accidentally bumps into AJ on some quiet part of campus. they sit together and talk and the pulsing thing tells her to be careful.

“can i ask you a question?” AJ says.

“sure.”

“did i ever mean anything to you?”

“yes—”

the pulsing thing tells her to stop.

“—i think i was scared because i knew i could lo—”

the pulsing thing rips her away.

Poppy can feel it in her bones that this is it. attempt twenty-two will be the one to break this cycle.

she plays through the day as she usually would, making only small changes that she knows are the right thing to do. then comes time for the award show and it’s just before the winner is announced that the pulsing asks if she knows what has to be done.

yes, she does know.

AJ wins and Poppy’s strangely okay with that, but the pulsing thing tells her now, go, you have to do it. so she does. she shouts and she curses and is vaguely aware of her parents begging for her to stop.

she runs off outside and finds herself at the fountain again.

she doesn’t have to wait long until AJ sits down beside her and Poppy looks up at her and smiles, waiting for AJ to accept the olive branch she’s extending.

“i’m glad you won,” Poppy breathes, almost like a sigh of relief.

and she feels something in the air shift then. it’s small, barely noticeable. but she knows that something is different in the way that sometimes you just know something even if knowing it has no rhyme or reason.

“really?”

Poppy hums. “you deserve it.”

the pulsing thing says i’m proud of you.

and Poppy wonders if she’ll be okay without the constant nagging, because this is the furthest she’s ever made it before and she has no idea what comes next.

that’s the point.

what if i screw up.

then you fix it.

what if i can’t.

you can.

“you alright?” AJ asks, breaking Poppy’s trance. “you just kinda zoned out for a sec.”

Poppy smiles and finds AJ’s hand with her own. “i’ve never been better.”

time is linear, Poppy firmly believes. like dominoes in a line, stacked neatly in formation, and all tumbling one right after another when nudged.

time does not repeat. it does not offer do-overs. except maybe when it does. which might be complete bullshit, Poppy thinks. but years—decades even—after that day she lived through twenty-two times, she’ll listen as AJ recites some corny pickup line in their kitchen.

“i can’t believe i married you,” Poppy will say with a smile.

“tragic, isn’t it?”

“couldn’t agree more.”

“good.”

and then AJ will swoop in and plant a kiss on Poppy’s lips. and it will be in moments like those that the pulsing thing will hum and ask aren’t you glad you finally listened to me?

and yeah, maybe she is.

#my writing #poppy x mc #poppy min-sinclair #queen b #playchoices #a funky little story about love and time travel #does that even make sense?#i sure hope it does

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arahul-abyssia · 3 years

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Festive

Writing number 4 for Nintember (@starprincesshlc , @jklantern )! To hopefully escape the pit of Emotions™ that was the first three stories, here's some hopefully much much much lighter, more slice-of-life-ish fare.

This does correspond to prompts 16-20, but I got caught up in Real Life for a while, so it's going up mega-late, and also it's kinda... abridged from its original concept, and less polished. 'Tis the way the cookie hath crumbled this year...

~~ Horse, Color, Hats, World, Music ~~

Layna awoke to a loud and repetitive hooting in her ear. She blearily turned her head to the side to find a pair of black-framed bright red eyes staring at her with interest. It took several moments of staring before she was mentally present enough to avert her gaze, sit up, and look out the window at the horizon. As she had expected, the sun had only barely risen fully above it.

She turned back to her greeter. “Relos! How many times do I have to tell you not to wake me up?”

Relos merely, and quite literally, hooted with laughter and flew off out of her room. Layna knew it was futile to keep telling him not to wake her, not because of any obligation or the masterful internal clock of his, but because he knew she didn’t like it and he was a mischief-mongering imp.

Normally, she’d roll over and try to get a few more minutes of sleep, but that day was the first of one of the best weeks of the entire year, and she didn’t want to miss a single moment. She quickly pulled herself from her bed, cleaned and dressed herself, grabbed the pack she had prepared the night before, and hurried downstairs, hoping to get through the delightfully aromatic kitchen and out the door before--

“Aaaalwaaaalrwaaa!”

Standing between Layna and the door was the soft pink-and-cream form of Infra, who was gazing up at her with strikingly accusatory eyes, her hands on her hips.

“Yes, Infra, I know I haven’t eaten.”

“Laaalruuwaar!”

“It’s the first day of the festival and I want to do as much as I can! I’ll get something from one of the vendors.”

“Luulrwarraalyaaa!”

“Ugh…! Fine, if it’ll make you happy.”

Begrudgingly, she returned to the kitchen and sat at the table, as Infra went to the stove, gingerly placed an assortment of breakfast foods onto a plate, and set it before Layna, smiling at her with fairy-pink eyes that had nary a semblance of her previous visage. Unlike the rest of Pokémon in her family’s home, who were all quite content to leave the human part of the family to do as they pleased, the Audino practically operated like another mother to her, as if she needed a third one on top of her human two (who also were often subject to Infra’s mothering). Somehow, she had learned how to do a whole plethora of human home tasks and chores, and she never let Layna leave home in the morning without ensuring that she’d eaten. An outside observer might wonder why a Pokémon was apparently her morning caretaker, and not either or both of her mothers, but with both of them having jobs that began long before dawn, it was simply how things were in their house.

She had to admit that Infra was a surprisingly good cook. This evaluation, however, was not based upon the food that she was at that moment rapidly stuffing into her mouth, but rather upon the numerous meals from days where she wasn’t dead-set on going elsewhere as soon as possible. That morning’s breakfast, while certainly of Infra’s normal calibre, was given no time to rest upon Layna’s taste buds, and may as well have been tasteless for all she cared.

As soon as the last bite of egg left her fork, she jumped to her feet, practically threw the plate and silverware into the sink, and darted for the door, calling out as she left, “‘Kthankyoubyyyyeeeeee!”

Infra was not impressed with her, as projectile kitchenware was dangerous and eating that quickly would likely give her a stomachache, but she’d have time later to worry about such things. Her next task was to prepare food for the rest of the Pokémon scattered about the house, who all were beginning to come to consciousness, probably due to the clatter of cutlery, and she set about with the same dutifulness and joy she always did.

Layna, of course, hadn’t even a single neuron focused upon Infra’s judgment, as she was far more concerned with sprinting down a steep road with wanton abandon, the countless colors and lights and tents and tarps of the festival visible in the distance. It had already entered full swing, always beginning with the dawn, and she wanted to explore as much as she could. She had considered bringing along some of the Pokémon, but not long later decided to bring them along later in the day instead. She did not know why she made this decision, nor did she care.

The streets that had been blocked off for the festival were already bustling with people and Pokémon alike, almost each and every one nearly as energized as Layna was. She promptly began to wander the streets, turning and spinning and looking about enough that she ought to have made herself sick, but this had not lasted for even five minutes before she was drawn to a larger vendor stall by an overpowering floral and fruity aroma.

As should be expected, an impossibly wide variety of flowers and fruits were on display, some having been made presentory and others still being attached to their plants, with countless more options upon the boards hanging from the awning.

“Well, hello there, young miss!” said one of the farmers behind the stand. “How can we help ya?”

“Oh, I’m just looking right now, sir.” She paused a moment, then was overtaken by a rather sudden curiosity. “There are so many flowers and berries here, how do you manage to pick and move them all?”

The farmer chuckled. “We have a lot of help, ‘specially around this time of year. Lot of it comes from extra hands, but it would still be impossible without the help of all our Pokémon, like ol’ Sitrus here.”

At this, he gestured to a Mudsdale beside him, which Layna had somehow managed to miss entirely.

“She’s lovely! And so… big…! I’ll bet she must be really strong, too!”

“More ‘n any of us could’ve expected! And she’s friendly, too; wanna pet her?”

Layna’s eyes immediately lit up. “Would I?!! I mean, uh, if she’ll let me…!”

The farmer laughed and brought the horse forward, and Layna tentatively reached up and placed a hand on her face. Sitrus took a moment to consider her latest contact, then, judging her satisfactory in that esoteric way few can ever decipher, leaned in to her touch. She giggled and stroked her a few times more, noting her fur’s strange combination of roughness and softness, before pulling her hand away. Sitrus, in turn, snorted a puff of hot air at Layna’s face before backing into the shade again.

“Aw, that means she likes you! Well, let me or any one of us know if ya want anything.”

“Will do, thank you!” Layna had no intention to buy anything at that time, not when there were countless other things to do and find and see at the festival. She proceeded to bury her face in several of the flowers around the stall, enveloping herself in their different, yet undeniably pleasant, scents, before scampering off to find some other point of interest.

She could have easily checked the maps of the festival area, which were scattered on boards and holographic signs all about the city and even available online, but this sounded boring and unfun, so she did not. Upon her winding, meandering, unfocused path through the streets were innumerable stalls and stands and attractions to take note of--more fruits and vegetables, tickets to special shows on later days, a ferris wheel to ride with someone else later, foreign cuisine and sweets--but it was not until she overheard the faint but unmistakable sound of music that she was drawn in once again.

Upon the boardwalk was a small stage with a frighteningly energetic group of musicians, surrounded by an even more enthusiastic crowd. They seemed to be in the middle of a rendition of a song Layna heard on the radio nearly every day, an anthem for Trainers detailing their goal to “Catch ‘em All.” She never saw the appeal--both of the song and of the objective--but it apparently spoke quite well to most others.

As they finished their performance--and on a much more somber note than the original song did--their main singer pulled the microphone from its stand and began pacing the stage. “I hope you folks are enjoying the show! Now, however, I’d like to take a break from the hype, and sing something a bit slower, something that’s… rather close to my heart.”

Layna watched as a Toxtricity--which had evidently been playing with the rest of the band, but which, just like the Mudsdale, she had failed at first to notice--stepped forward and began playing a slow guitar piece. The lead singer waited a moment, then began to sing a ballad in a tongue Layna could not understand. It was one she was certain she had heard before, but could not manage to identify it any way beyond that it was not the common tongue known by almost everyone across the world.

She tried to stay and listen, but immediately found that, beautiful though his singing was, she was not in the mood for slow music. Along with a small chunk of the band’s crowd, she turned and left, and returned to her aimless wandering and exploration.

Eventually, she found herself in a quarter rife with food vendors, most of whom had one or two individuals calling out and offering free samples. By the smells and descriptions alone, she was greatly tempted to take every single one she could. Of course, her mothers would likely have tried to limit how many she took so that she wouldn’t spoil her appetite for lunch, and Infra would surely have balked at the notion for the same reasons; also, most of the food in the area was rather far from being healthy. Indeed, she had significant reason to not do what she wanted to do.

However, none of those individuals were here to remind her, and as it turned out, the aromas were very persuasive. Layna marched forward and nabbed every sample in sight, only barely stopping to enjoy them before moving on to the next, and only doing so because of the crowds and lines slowing her down.

Her frenzy ended not fifteen minutes later, and as she looked about to find her next target of interest, she realized she had wound up on the very same street she had started on. Obviously, this would not do, as there were so many other, more interesting circles to walk in the festival’s streets.

However, with home being so near once again, she had half a mind to return to grab something to combat the rapidly rising sun, whose rays were just beginning to take too much precedence over the comfortable morning breeze…

“Twee-tweeoo-twrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

Or maybe I won’t have to after all!

A black-and-brown blur was barrelling toward her from the sky, making a frankly obscene level of noise. She stood firm and faced it, staring unblinking at the rapidly encroaching avian, before ducking at a perfect, precise, and repeatedly practiced moment. Like clockwork, Layna’s vision was shaded by an off-kilter hat (which she quickly adjusted), and the feathery form of a Taillow alighted upon her shoulder, whose face she began to delicately stroke.

“Thank you for bringing me my hat, Lond! Wherever would I be without you?”

“Twrrrt-t-twiii!”

“Wait, no, don’t tell me: Infra wanted me to not burn in the sun and you wanted to not be stuck inside with Relos.”

“Twrr-twrr-twrr!”

“I thought so… well, now that you’re here, how about sticking with me for a bit of exploration? I’m sure there'll be plenty of stuff to try!”

Lond pretended to think for a moment, then gave another enthusiastic chirp.

Layna giggled. “In that case, we mustn’t waste any more time! Onward!”

And with no decay to her exuberance, she sprinted off into the festival once more.

#nintember #fun note: i don't really like the whole 'pokemon say their names thing' so i went with Other Sounds instead

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bogunicorn · 2 years

Text

FLUFFuary 2022 | 2. Long Conversations

Summary: Solas wakes up in modern!Thedas and is taken in by Thayet Trevelyan. Written for FLUFFuary 2022, SUNLIGHT is a series of short, fluffy, slice-of-life vignettes that can also be found on AO3.

Rating: T

Pairing: Solas/F!Trevelyan

Word Count: ~500

Solas and Thayet go for a drive.

His actual name, it turns out, is Solas.

Between visits from Nurse Anders and infrequent check-ins with the doctor, Thayet and Solas take turns explaining what the hell is going on. Solas is from Arlathan; Thayet found him in the Vimmark Mountains, which had barely existed when he’d gone to sleep. He’s been asleep this entire time; “this entire time” is thousands of years.

Why had Thayet pretended he was her husband?

“The tomb where I found you is swarming with scientists and Maker knows who else. If they’d realized what you were, you’d be in a lab somewhere. This way, you can choose who you want to tell.”

“Where do I go after this, then?”

“Home with me, if you want,” she says without thinking. “At least until you get your bearings.”

Solas suddenly looks very, very tired, his face soft. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll even let you take my bedroom.”

Solas is less shocked by her car than she expects. Apparently, Arlathan had cars, too — well, not cars, but self-powered vehicles running on magic instead of mechanics. It’s the speed that actually surprises him.

“We’re a few hours from Kirkwall,” she says apologetically, driving away from the tiny hospital. “That’s where I live. My cousin and I were out here hiking, and you weren’t hurt enough to get transported back to the city. Though that’s probably better, a city hospital might have actually tried to look you up.”

“Fortunate, then.”

He’s distracted as soon as they start moving, taking in as much of the scenery as he can. The world must look so different to him now; a few thousand years would change more than just the landscape. Hell, Thedas itself had been a different shape when last Solas had been awake.

A few thousand years. Her head spins just thinking about it. A few thousand years! If Thayet hadn’t practically tripped on his body under a hill like some fantasy novel, she wouldn’t believe it herself.

But she’s been watching the news coverage. Hiker Couple Stumbles Upon Ancient Elvhen Archeological Find. The scientists on television think the tomb is the real deal.

Which means that Solas — this polite, surprisingly handsome elf who’d discovered scrunchies at the precise moment twenty minutes ago when she’d pulled one out of her purse to give to him — is real, too. Thayet honestly gives him credit for not losing his mind.

“Hey.”

Solas tears his eyes away from the window. “Hm?”

“Do you want to see something cool?”

“Cool?”

“Um—good. Neat? Interesting.”

He chuckles. “Yes, of course.”

Thayet flips on the screen in the dash, switching over to her own music. A beat heavy with synth and guitars comes from the speakers, and Solas jumps before she apologetically turns it down.

“Sorry! Sorry, I forgot it was that loud.”

“It’s fine,” he says, immediately forgetting about the scare. Instead, he leans in toward the radio. “This is machinery?”

“Yeah. Here, you can go through my playlists.”

Thayet quickly shows him how to navigate her music, and he spends the rest of the drive flipping through songs. He changes genre after each one, keeping her busy with questions — about instruments, about references, about entire styles of music.

By the time they reach Kirkwall, Solas has his own playlist in her phone, full of niche, drum-heavy indie music she’d forgotten she’d even saved and a smattering of happy, sugary pop songs.

#fluffuary2022 #my writing #bog post #solavelyan #dragon age #dai #my ocs #thayet trevelyan #the inquisitor #trevelyan

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jae-canikeepyou · 4 years

Text

| serenity in us | j.jh | ch. one

word count: 2.9k+ ( putting this now yay :3 )

a/n: hey hi hello~ i’m back with another series! i was gonna wait until my semester’s done but my patience’s killing me and i don’t wanna keep you all waiting so here you go! ♡ enjoy! ~j

“serenity is found somewhere between the sky and the sand.” you read the font words on the minimalist frame. it was a quote you heard in an ongoing, constant dream that you thought was needed to be drawn and remembered. in it, the quote was a voice as if a narrator spoke those words to begin something new. the scenery you ask? every place was different but there was always a horizon. the dream was vague and raised a lot of question marks in your mind the moment you wake up.

you hung the item on the wall, marking the end of unpacking your things since moving in days ago. the mess was finally cleared out and the boxes were emptied and folded briefly, lined on one side of the wall. you slouched low in exhaustion, sliding your home slippers across the white marbled floor. it was squeaking even, that only explained how much of a neat freak you were. a new apartment, simple furniture and man oh man, you have an automatic vacuum with a sensor that you didn’t have to worry about the dirt at the annoying, impossible corners.

independence was something you were blessed with despite being an orphan as early as two. uncle caleb; a friend of your father’s and aunt jenn; your mother’s half-sister, gladly took you in as their own.

honestly the mention of your beloved felt like they were still alive and just working abroad, because they were always reminded and talked about from your uncle and aunt. you had a striking resemblance with your mother, but the ways were your father’s. ‘a perfect combination of the two’, was how they described the child they never wanted to leave behind.

the door bell rang and the small screen showed your childhood— and best friend, eunha. she waved at the super tiny camera and had some flowers and bento boxes with her, all packed and nicely decorated. you pressed the button for her to enter. whilst you waited, you played an hour long track list of soothing, chill, instrumental songs to make the apartment a little noisy. one thing’s for sure, silent cleaning was not a good habit since you tend to procrastinate, oops.

eunha greeted you a hug so tight, placing down the things she brought with her. “y/n! i’m so glad we’re living so close to each other!” she hugged you and fanned herself as if that would stop her eyes from welling. “how’s everything with you? you should’ve called me honey! you know i’ll be coming straight away to help! i have a hotline like the powerpuff girls has.” she winked.

“i’m great! i crossed out the things i completed and now free from the stress. i’m ready for the new semester.” you gestured her to sit, inviting her for the meal you prepared. “well i am the bubbles to your blossom~ but it’s really okay! i managed and here we are talking freely without stressing over things.”

her hands held yours and swung them with excitement. “after we eat, do you want me to bring you around town? there’s a vinyl record store i think you’ll like.” her voice beaming as she singsonged, chewing on the pancake with whipped cream and blueberries.

“it’s still 9 a.m. we have loads of time in the world.” you showed your watch.

the leaves began to fall and you twirled around the sidewalk’s lamppost. eunha took pictures of you, happiness written on your face. you both entered the said shop. records displayed and hung on the wall, posters of legendary artists and worldwide singers encouraging customers to come in.

your hands trailed along the shelf that had new and limited turntables. as much as you were itching to pull out your wallet, there were other important things you needed to worry about and independence meant discipline too. your fingers curled and hesitated, just inches left before you could touch the surface of the one thing you’ve always wanted to purchase.

eunha giggled at your whiney, surrendered self. your back turning away from the product and walking towards her. “y/n.” she called your name, but this certain tone was serious and was more of a reminder.

“i know.” you smiled as you wiggled your phone with the ever precious wallpaper of yours.

“oh! your aunt’s calling you.” she hopped and pointed at the device, making you sliding fingers on the screen a second later. she gestured that she’d head out and wait for you.

“hi aunt jenn.” you greeted on the phone, only to extend your arm slightly at the baby’s cry on the other line. “aw he’s crying again?”

“yes y/n. i’ll be heading to work soon. can you come here?” she chuckled, though it was obvious she had the baby in her arms.

you exited the store and pulled eunha, crossing the pedestrian. “alright, i’ll be on my way.”

the office was dead silent and not one soul dared to speak. three figures stood in front of the angered woman; their continuous fiddles of the fingers and tapping of the toes became faster as they tried to come up with a reason to tell. just one. only the ticking of the clock on the table was heard. it was getting harder and harder to breathe even in a hundred square meter room.

“where is he?!” she yelled. the three flinched and were taken aback, hands either behind them or wrapped around an arm. the door then flung opened, revealing the said guy.

“young man, how can you be so inconsiderate?!” the woman asked again, this time it was in an annoying range of decibel that the listeners had to endure the volume.

jaehyun brushed past the ‘meeting’ and sat in one of the leather chairs. his legs rested on the centered table, obviously not bothering to listen. “so, being a minute late concludes my actions in general?” he chuckled bitterly, spinning the chair around before standing up again.

“i couldn’t care less,” he now glared at the woman. “about this damn meeting. what is it for, anyway?! wasting my time!”

he left the room and the woman rubbed her temples, swinging her palms to tell the rest of the three to follow the young man. “jaehyun.” yunho called his brother, reaching a hand out to grab him, successfully turning the lad around.

“what?” jaehyun snapped, removing the grip onto his body.

krystal rolled her eyes, the pungent smell entering her nostrils. “you reek, jae.”

“you went drinking again, didn’t you? i could smell the moment you came into the office.” yunho asked, pressing the button of the lift to head down.

“when will you learn, honestly?” jessica fixed her bag on her arm. “grow up.”

jaehyun clapped his hands, applauding the expected words that woman instructed his siblings to do. “me? learn? i already did. i just won’t follow orders from that silver digger.”

“gold*.” they corrected him.

“see you’re still drunk.” krystal meddled with her new manicure, earning a nudge from jessica.

“whatever, noona. you get my point either way.” jaehyun fished out his car keys to toss them up high, whistling his heart out at his favourite tune.

they exited the building and got on the car. he dropped off his sisters at the blanc and eclare flagship headquarters, then drove to a nearby restaurant for lunch with yunho. they entered the place and went to the reserved table. jaehyun sat and loosened the buttons of his polo, removing the neck tie and sat back.

yunho stared at his carefree little brother, he put the menu down so he could maybe give him a little serious talk. he understood why jaehyun acted the way he did earlier. even he himself could do the same but given the circumstances of his standing in the family, of course he’d be the mature one. he was the first child anyway.

“got anything you want?” yunho asked, removing his sunglasses then placing them in its case. “i’ll pay.”

“nah, let me pay for my own meal, hyung.” he flashed a small smile. “i got my pay check.”

“so you still do have a heart.” yunho jokingly stated the overseen fact.

“c’mon you’re smarter than that doctor jung.” jaehyun said the occupation title in a childlike tone. “you should know why i’m filled with hatred towards the woman.”

“hatred is such a strong word, offensive even. but seriously jae, how long are you going to keep up with this behavior? the next thing you know it, you’re out of the penthouse.”

yunho raised his hands to order. the young lad didn’t dare to answer and he sighed at the usual unresponsive manner whenever they hit this certain topic. “look i know for the longest time she treated us like how captain george von trapp did to his kids. i get it. you hated how she uses out-of-the-world discipline and i totally understand that-”

jaehyun scoffed, disbelief clearly written on his face. “i was six when she entered our lives. a kid that age couldn’t handle being shoved around just because he thought there was no difference between boxers and pajama shorts. the sound of music is cool reference by the way.”

“you did have confused mind back then. and what else can i compare it with? she probably took the idea from there.” yunho laughed as he handed the utensils and handkerchief. “but still though, i suggest you man up and act like you do with dad. just be yourself.”

“easier said than done.” jaehyun began slicing his steak and popping one bit into his mouth.

“what makes you so stone cold towards her anyway?” he asked, fixing the handkerchief by his lap.

“simple.” jaehyun stated the obvious even if he knew that yunho knew the answer.

“she’s not mom.”

eunha brought you to the restaurant that opened not long ago. the interior was eye-catching yet even with its simplicity, it was able to attract customers from outside. the smell of dishes that were yet to be served was luring and probably the reason why eunha chose the place. the waiters led you to the a table and soon came back with a baby chair. you placed the little un in it and he smiled with pearls trying to peek out.

you fixed the bib around him and booped his nose. gurgles of his hoarse laughs made everyone at your area turn to him. “ooh you sure are the spotlight stealer, aren’t you? these people are already taking a picture of you.”

“gosh he has the cutest smile.” eunha melted at the sight of him grabbing the tissue. “looky here!” she aimed her camera at him. “y/n, what’re you getting?”

you pondered for a while before your eyes landed at the name your stomach was craving for the past week. moving apartments had a toll on you— that resulted in you unable to cook your favourite meal. up until this morning were you finally found the time to do that. hence the breakfast eunha devoured within seconds.

“i’m getting fish & chips, and the classic steak.” your stomach growled at the picture beside it.

“alright, i guess i’m getting the same as yours.” eunha raised her hand.

the waiter came to your table to kindly ask for your orders. when you did so and thanked the man, a wallet fell from your right side. picking it up to give it to the owner, a large hand lightly touched yours and you looked up to see two men smiling softly.

“thank you.” the man in a suit said, taking the wallet from you.

“you’re welcome.” you answered. the man looked awfully familiar, as if he was on every commercial the screen had offered to show.

you and eunha shared a look. the telepathic words exchanged between the both of you had your eyes agreeing with what you saw, confirming his identity.

“he’s that celebrity doctor.” eunha mouthed. “dr. jung yunho, a paediatrician.”

“he seems a happy child. how old is he if i may ask?” he waved at him.

“this little guy here, just turned one few days ago.” you said, wiping off the drool with the bib.

“oh precious. belated happy birthday buddy.” he greeted.

you turned to the little one and carried him in your arms, waving his hands to thank the man. as you continued have your lunch and taking turns in feeding him and yourself, you noticed some movement where other children would approach the child on your lap. they would pinch his cheeks lightly and made faces they thought would make him laugh.

then the two men beside you stood. but before they left, yunho took a something out of his pockets and handed it to you.

it was a business card of his own practice office with an address and contact information. “if there’s anything you need help with, just give me a call and this guy-” he pointed at jaehyun and pat his back. “-will pick you and birthday boy up and head to my office.”

“hyung!” jaehyun gasped loudly, later covering his hands at the volume of his complaint. “sorry, i don’t mean it in a negative way.” he smiled awkwardly at you.

“no worries.” you gave him a sincere smile and he swore he felt like the world slowed down. everything else blurred where the only focus was you; how your hair length waved below your shoulders and your eyes sparkled with the sun’s reflection.

this young fine man though, whom you thought wasn’t paying attention or interest to, was now staring at you like he had a thousands of questions to ask to fill in his curiosity. “see you around.” yunho bid you goodbye, and the other trailed from behind.

eunha poked your shoulder with an intention of a tease. she grinned and you knew where she would go from there. “i know what you’re gonna say.” you rolled your eyes, yet a faint smile was evident in your lips.

“really?” her tone was very challenging. “i’ll test you. go ahead.”

“‘dr. jung yunho is so handsome! he’s so dreamy in real life! i should’ve asked for his photograph and boast it to my friends!’ yeah, i guess it’s somewhere along those lines.” you mimicked her voice and expression, not to mention gestures as well, especially the hands.

“yah i don’t act like that!” she defended, but there wasn’t any denial as she said that. “well, maybe. you’re not wrong though.”

“hmpf. and here you went ‘test me’.” you giggled, giving another piece of fish fillet to the one-year old. “and for the record, i’m always right whenever i’m proving you wrong.”

“fine you win.” she sipped her juice from a straw. “oh! hey, the guy he’s with is also handsome.”

you nodded in agreement at the obvious fact, although he did have tiny temperment. but that was only due to dr. yunho’s sudden suggestion. “he looked young. maybe his younger brother perhaps?” you wondered.

“hm. i haven’t seen him before. not on screen at least.” eunha chewed on her food. you raised a brow since you have no idea what she was talking about. “that doctor we conversed with, is from a family of good looking people. he has two younger sisters; jessica and krystal jung. the older one is the founder and endorser of blanc and eclare, while the younger one is an nationwide actress.”

“wow.” your eyes grew at the far/fetched level of these people. “sounds like an ideal family out of a manhwa.”

“egg-xactly.” she pointed at you with a hard boiled egg by her fork.

“that guy called him ‘hyung’ though. looked like to me they know each other. plus they have resemblance too.” you wiped your lips clean from the possible stain.

“oh dear ms. y/n.” eunha called you, her palms touching her chest as if she was surprised. “you have the hots for guys like him, which was why you-”

“ah-ah.” you glared at her, making her shush and zipping the imagination by her lips. “don’t talk about that.”

“bummer, i wasn’t even gonna.” eunha pouted but held your hand anyway. “i’ll always be here for you, y/n.”

“thank you.” you gave her a warm smile.

jaehyun waited by the entrance while his brother paid their meal. although he was bummed out that he wasn’t able to pay for his, he was somehow relieved. because once that cash was out of his pockets, he’d be broke the next time he goes to drink again.

at the corners of his eyes, he could still see you and your friend, as well as the adorable child seated on your lap. you were giving him a spoonfuls for airplane feeding.

yunho gestured jaehyun that they were leaving the restaurant. “hyung, why did you say that i’d pick her up?” he asked as he took a quick glance at you.

“c’mon i’m just playing around.” he nudged jaehyun.

“by matchmaking me to some random girl?” he scoffed. “you sure got a lot of time in your hands.”

“don’t take it too seriously jae.” yunho went ahead, leaving his brother flabbergasted.

he then shrugged it off and looked at you before stepping out. his ears perked up at the three second long conversation exchanged between you and the child.

“jaewon, look! mommy’s got an airplane~”

jaehyun stopped in his tracks by the entrance. his head quickly turning to you again. your lips mouthed the one word that shock hit his entire body. you weren’t just some random girl,

you were the mother of that child.

#serenity in us jjh #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct 127 #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun series #jaehyun au

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chain-unchained · 3 years

Text

December 17

The rustic twang of country guitar played over the jukebox in the Saloon. Sundays were far from the busiest days for the establishment, but there was always a handful of regulars that would come by, and someone would always plonk a few coins into the machine. The music was never loud enough to make conversation difficult; it was just there as background ambience.

It was a familiar song to Ashe as he stepped in through the door. By this point he’d visited so many times that he knew just about every track on the old machine. And this was one that he remembered fondly; he would often listen to it with his mother. Before the illness.

“Hey, there you are!”

Emily’s smile was a mile wide as she hastened around the counter to greet him. “It’s been forever since you stopped by.”

“Emily!” The hug they shared was mutual. “Sorry, just—I’ve been so busy.”

“No need to apologize. I’m just happy to see you again.” She held him back at arm’s length to study him with a critical eye. “You doing okay now?”

“Ah—” His cheeks flushed, and he looked anywhere but at her. “Yeah. I’m better. Definitely better.”

The smile was half-forced, half-genuine, and 100% embarrassed. It felt so awkward, having so many people ask him how he was doing these last few days. The same kind of awkwardness as standing there while people sang happy birthday.

“I’m glad to hear that. Don’t start pushing yourself too hard again, okay?” She gave his shoulders a squeeze. “You’ve got people you can talk to.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.” With another smile she let him go. “Well then, let me show you to the back. Shane’s waiting for you.”

The blush deepened. “He is? Am I late or something?”

“No no. He just got here early. Right this way.”

She led Ashe through the short swinging saloon doors to the left of the room. His heart began to flutter in his chest; it wasn’t their first date, but… this felt different to the gridball game. He didn’t know what to expect.

They made their way down the hall and to the private dining room. A ‘reserved’ sign hung from the hook in the center of the door, which sat slightly ajar. A different song was playing through the crack; it was softer, melodic.

‘Oh no—was I supposed to dress fancier?’

A nervous thought raced through Ashe’s mind as they drew near. The music sounded almost classical, and he couldn’t help but feel like maybe he should have dressed up a bit more.

“Hey, Emily?”

She stopped and turned back to him. “Yeah?”

“Um, is my outfit okay?”

“Hmm…” She observed him again. “Do a little spin for me.”

He did, the anxiety rising at the unreadable expression on her face. It wasn’t like he’d come here in his farming best— dark-washed bootcut jeans, his lavender turtleneck beneath a white sleeveless vest, his good boots—but the insecurity was there. He couldn’t help but doubt.

After a moment, Emily’s face split into another smile. “Very cute—Shane’s going to go crazy.”

“Really?” Ashe’s face lit up at the praise and prediction both. It was a relief for a worry that he knew was unfounded. “Whew… Thank you~”

“Hey, there’s that sunshine smile! I was getting worried I wouldn’t get to see it before winter ends.”

The private room was small, and quaint, styled much the same as the bar area. Paintings decorated the walls, and one of Emily’s own hand-woven rugs adorned the floor, upon which an aged oak table rested. The music was coming from a smaller radio resting atop a matching end table in the corner; candle wall sconces cast a warm and gentle glow upon the red hues of wood and fabric both.

Shane was already there, of course—and Ashe’s face turned several shades of tomato red as his eyes fell upon him. Though his back was to the door, it was clear that he’d cleaned up for tonight. His hair, which he’d been letting grow out, was freshly washed and styled; he wore a well-fitted, plain dark sweater tucked into new jeans, with a black leather belt. He turned his head in response to the door opening—he’d even gone so far as to shave.

“Hey, you made it…”

His own voice trailed off as his eyes fell on Ashe, and there was a moment of silence as they both just stared at each other, somewhat slack-jawed.

“Wow,” Emily looked between the two of them, “you really are made for each other. I’ll go and grab some menus and some drinks to get you started.”

She traipsed out, shutting the door quietly behind her. Shane cleared his throat, his face nearly as red as Ashe’s at that point.

“You, uh… you look good, chickadee.”

“Th-thanks.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Ashe shyly added, “you do too.”

Shane grinned self-consciously. “Heh, you think so? Kinda feels like my gut’s gonna bust through this sweater…”

Ashe tip-toed closer until he was completely leaning against him, and his voice trailed off. “You look amazing,” the farmer mumbled, his face hidden in the fabric of Shane’s chest. “I can’t handle it.”

That was enough to silence Shane’s self-doubt—or at least keep him from vocalizing it further. “Yoba, you’re too cute.” He took the opportunity to steal both a hug and a kiss from his boyfriend, lingering perhaps a bit longer thank he intended to upon his lips. “So… d’you wanna sit down?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

It was with only minor reluctance that Shane stepped away from him to pull one of the chairs out from the table. He gestured for Ashe to sit, and pushed the chair back into place when he did. All the while, he had to fight to keep his hands from shaking. It had been at least a decade since he’d been on a fancy dinner date like this before, let alone with someone he cared so deeply about. He wanted it to be perfect.

By the time he’d taken his own seat opposite Ashe, Emily had returned with glasses of ice water—lemon slices included—and two menus. “Here you go,” she said with another smile. “Take your time, and press the buzzer when you’re ready to order.”

“Thanks, Emily.”

She dipped back out the door again, and for a moment there was silence as they both skimmed the menu. “Order whatever you want,” Shane said, glancing up to see the conflicted look on Ashe’s face. “Don’t worry about prices. It’s my treat.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He grinned. “I can afford to splurge on my favorite dweeb every now and then.”

Ashe hid his blushing pout behind the menu. It was hard to focus on choosing, because every few seconds he couldn’t help peeking over the top to get another look at Shane.

“… What?” Shane caught him staring. “Did I nick myself when I was shaving or something?”

“N-No no—It’s just—” He hid behind the menu again, face redder than it had been before. “I-I never realized how good you look with long hair. Sorry, I’ll stop.”

Now it was Shane’s turn to become a tomato head. “Bud, you’re gonna give me an ego with all these compliments.” He looked through the menu a bit more. To be honest, he was in the mood for pizza, but he wanted to impress Ashe—

“Would you judge me if I said I wanted pizza?”

He lowered the menu to look at him again. There was a meek sort of grin on the farmer’s face, which he was quick to hide once more behind his own.

“Nevermind, I’ll—pick something else.”

“Actually, I was literally just thinking the same thing.” Shane dropped the menu onto the table. “Do you just wanna order a large and split it?”

“Oh my Yoba, yes please.”

So much for a romantic dinner. Shane’s expectations went out the door, and with them the hesitant awkwardness that hung in the air. It was like they both settled back into their skins, and once the 16-inch pie was on the table they dug in. No forks, no plates, just greasy slices in hand and a couple of paper napkins.

“Ahh, I’m in heaven~” Ashe practically melted into his chair. “Sssooo good…”

“Yeah, it’s been awhile since I had one of his pizzas.” A long strand of cheese stretched out from Shane’s mouth to the slice he’d taken a bite from. The sign of a quality cheese pie. “This cheese didn’t come from Hanako, did it?” He joked.

“I wish it did! She’s still just a baby though. I was kind of thinking I might see about getting a full-grown cow in the meantime—sometimes I worry that she’s lonely, being in that big barn all by herself at night.”

“What about Silva?”

“Oh, well… Silva kind of picks on her a bit. I had Robin build her a stable.”

Shane sighed. “Bugaboo, I’m not gonna lie—that horse scares me.”

“I’m not giving her up.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that—” even though he really thought that was the best idea, “—I just want you to be extra careful with her. Please.”

The plea made Ashe deflate a bit. He picked up a strand of cheese that had fallen and nibbled on it before answering. “I will. Don’t worry, I haven’t tried to ride her yet. And I still really believe that she wouldn’t ever actually hurt me.”

“I sure hope that’s the case.”

Shane helped himself to another slice, hesitating only briefly in contemplation—it was going to be more calories to burn in the gym later—and taking a bite when he decided it was worth it.

After a minute, Ashe spoke again. “I, uh… I saw Dr. Vance yesterday.”

“Oh, that’s why you were gone. I was wondering.” Shane licked a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to answer, but how’d it go?”

“It went… good.” The farmer began to gently rock back and forth in his chair. “A lot of talking. It was harder than I thought it would be.”

Shane could see that he was getting nervous. Wiping his hand on one of the napkins, he held it out to Ashe across the table; after a moment, Ashe took hold of it. “Yeah, it can be like that sometimes. But it’ll get better. Might not ever be easy, but better.”

“I hope so.” The warmth of Shane’s hand was comforting, and the rocking ceased after a minute. Ashe even managed to smile as he added, “I’m getting really tired of crying my eyes out already.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s part of the process.”

“Did you cry?”

“Oh yeah. More than I’m comfortable admitting, honestly.” He laughed. “So yeah, don’t feel bad about it. It’s different for everyone, and some of us just gotta cry before we can start moving on.”

“Yeah… I guess so.” Ashe shifted in his seat. “… I know I’m the one who brought it up, but… can we talk about something else?”

“Of course. Uhhh…” A stream of air blew past Shane’s lips as he fished around for a different topic. Of course now of all times he was drawing a blank.

“You still haven’t told me what you want for Christmas.”

Shit, that was the one he was hoping to avoid. “Cos I don’t want anything. I’ve already got all that I could ask for.”

“Shane,” Ashe leaned forward a bit, a very serious expression on his face, “I’m gonna get you something. It might as well be something you actually want.”

“Oh! Shit, that reminds me. Would it be okay if Jas hung out at the farm with you tomorrow?”

Ashe blinked. “Uh—of course. Why?”

“Because me and Marnie are gonna get some shopping done in Zuzu. And both Penny and Jodi are gonna be busy, and I feel bad for all the times they babysit her already. We’ll pay you for it, of course.”

“Oh, nonono you won’t.” He shook his head.

“You sure?”

“Yes I’m sure. Use that money to get Jas an extra present.”

“Bud, believe me, she’s gonna have more presents than she knows what to do with.” Shane wiped his hands on his napkin again and took a sip of lemon water. “What about you? You haven’t told me what you want.”

Ashe went quiet. The truth was, what he wanted more than anything was something that he knew he could never get back. But… well, there was one other thing…

“I just don’t want to be alone. That… That’s all…”

This time Shane gently took hold of both hands. “Who says you will be? The Feast lasts all day, and you can hang out at the ranch with us after. Okay? Don’t even worry about that.”

“I-I’ll try.” Ashe drew a shuddering breath. The emotions had utterly blindsided him, but at least he’d managed to keep from crying… again. But he was going to end up with whiplash with how all over the place his emotions were.

“You know, there’s gonna be a big countdown in Zuzu on New Years’ Eve. Would you feel up to going?”

“… Y-Yeah.” He managed a small smile. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

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toosicktoocare · 4 years

Text

Kind of a combo prompt: Jaskier starts to learn about medical stuff while traveling with Geralt, and Geralt starts to teach Jaskier how to fight. It’s a good thing Jaskier knows how to swing a sword and set bones

In hindsight, Jaskier’s not entirely sure how he’s been able to even grasp the basics of swordsmanship since Geralt’s method of teaching is rather... close. Jaskier’s initial thought had been learning through combat, the clashing of swords, one-on-one duels, but Geralt’s method is surprisingly singular, pushing Jaskier to focus more on his balance, his core, and his inner being.

“You’re still tense,” Geralt growls into his ears, and Jaskier bites back a shudder at the hot breath that brushes against his ear. Geralt’s behind him, curved around his back, mirroring his movements as a sturdy guide. His large hand cups Jaskier’s right hand, and Jaskier grits his teeth, willing the sword to not shake in his hand.

“Isn’t that the point?” he tries, wincing slightly at the soft burn coating his muscles from holding such a weighted sword upright for an extended time. “If I’m relaxed, I may not have the quick response if battle arises.”

Geralt sighs behind him, warm breath coating the back of his neck.

“It’s all about control.” Geralt drops his head to Jaskier’s shoulder with a low grunt. “We’ve been over this.”

“I know,” Jaskier starts, a slight whine to his voice, “but--”

A twig snaps behind them, and though Geralt doesn’t immediately lift his head, his hand slowly smooths around Jaskier’s until his fingers brush against the slightly warmed hilt of his sword. If Jaskier weren’t suddenly incredibly afraid of what’s behind him, he would take a moment to appreciate the controlled tension Geralt’s exhibiting.

“Well, isn’t this cute.”

A woman’s voice, Jaskier thinks, a woman’s voice that’s icy and dangerous, and finally, Geralt wraps large fingers fully around the hilt of the sword, lifts his head, and slowly spins around, swinging the sword with careful ease until it’s pointed at the woman. Jaskier follows his movements, looking over Geralt’s shoulder to see an older woman with a crooked smile.

Her face is half-cloaked by a large, black hood, but her eyes, though shadowed, appear an almost glowing red that Jaskier cannot pull his gaze from.

“Well, now, is that anyway to treat a guest?”

“An uninvited one,” Geralt grunts out, and Jaskier shifts his gaze away from the woman to see Geralt’s eyes narrowed, his large hand gripping the hilt of the sword tightly, and a nervous pit pulls into a ball in Jaskier’s stomach.

The situation is unsettling, and he can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong with this woman. A mage? He chases the idea for a moment, but it doesn’t click in his head. Not a mage, he decides, but who? Or, rather, what?

The woman tsks and begins walking to the left, Geralt follows her movements with the tip of his sword, keeping himself planted in front of Jaskier.

“Well, will you invite me into your little camp?”

“No,” Jaskier spits out, voice slightly higher than Geralt’s low growl of a “no.”

“Such a shame,” the woman starts, shifting her gaze past the sword to Jaskier. “You’re the lovely bard I’ve been following.” Her voice starts to shift, taking a deeper tone, and Jaskier’s breath gets caught in his throat.

In front of him, the woman’s bones are cracking, shifting, her face is pulling forward, thickening. She’s growing in height, and she grunts through clenched teeth as her form morphs into an incredibly large man staring down at them with a wicked smile.

Sweat beads at Jaskier’s temple. His body has gone completely still. “Geralt,” he whispers, voice shaking. “What in the--”

“-fuck,” Geralt growls.

Everything suddenly moves too fast for Jaskier to fully comprehend. Geralt shoves him back as the man leaps toward them. He hits the ground with a grunt just as Geralt swings the sword. Jaskier tries to follow their movements, but everything is too fast, the two dancing rapidly around each other, but then he hears a piercing cracking sound, and the sword slips from Geralt’s grip as his arm goes limp at his side.

The man forces Geralt to the ground, and Jaskier watches as the man pins Geralt’s arms over his head. He can see Geralt favoring his left side, trying to use pure strength alone to free himself, but the man’s got the upper hand.

Jaskier meets Geralt’s eyes for a breath of a moment, and he can hear Geralt’s voice in his head. Assess, he hears, and he does. The sword is too close to the man to grab, but a quick, closer inspection of the man’s bare back shows little to no wounds despite the amount of hits Geralt got in before...

His eyes flick over to Roach and the silver sword close to her. He can’t remember exactly, but he thinks he needs the silver since the iron doesn’t appear to be doing much. He’s quick and quiet on his feet, surprising even himself, and carefully, he tip-toes over to the silver sword. He goes unnoticed, another surprise considering his heart feels it’s about to burst past his ribs and right out of his chest, and snags the sword. It’s weight distribution feels different compared to the iron sword he’s grown accustomed to working with, but it doesn’t feel wrong. It actually feels... perfect, he thinks.

Geralt’s low growl of a curse pulls Jaskier back into reality. He blinks a few times, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, and turns toward the borderline one-sided battle behind him. Geralt doesn’t look panicked, but there’s pain pulling at his face, and it’s enough to have Jaskier walking back toward the mess of a fight. He stops right behind the man and clears his throat to get the man’s attention, an uncharacteristically strong wave of confidence washing over him.

For a moment, he’s not raising a silver sword over his head with practiced grace. For just a breath of a moment, he’s back at a tavern, strumming away at his lute, riling up a crowd of drunks as he sings songs of adventures. But then he swings the sword down, bringing himself back to the woods. He doesn’t aim like Geralt does, but the sword still finds its way to the man’s neck, slicing clean through it until the man’s head is rolling to the ground with a low thump.

He wasn’t aware that he screamed with the swing of the sword until his faint echo is the only sound to follow the lifeless head hitting the ground. He’s panting, his stomach is in knots, and he can feel Geralt’s eyes burning a hole in him.

He feels suddenly far too hot, and his stomach lurches. He lets the sword slip from his shaking grip and clamps a hand over his mouth, whipping around and making it close to a bush before dropping to his hand and knees and gagging.

He can’t shake the frighteningly clear image of the sword piercing clean through the man’s neck from his mind, or the wide-eyed look of pure terror. He heaves, throwing up the small breakfast he and Geralt split before training. He’s barely keeping himself up on shaking arms, and he wants to give into the ill-stricken fear clinging to his bones, but his mind, moving as fast as his heart, catches back up to the situation as a whole, and quickly, he scrambles to his feet, swaying slightly.

Geralt’s managed to sit up, but he’s gripping at his shoulder with a deep frown, and it doesn’t take a doctor or mage to see it’s dislocated. There’s bright red, angry swelling poking out through the tear in Geralt’s shirt, and Jaskier stumbles to him, dropping to his knees beside the Witcher.

“Are you alright?”

“That’s dislocated,” Jaskier mutters under his breath, not hearing Geralt’s question over the roar in his ears. He’s studied this, has been studying this and similar injuries for a few weeks now. He’s not much of a fighter, but he wants to help Geralt, to prove he’s a worthy companion, so he’s taken to books, learning about medicinal remedies, stitching, and dislocated bones.

“I can set it--”

“--Are you alright?” Geralt repeats, voice taking a low demand, but Jaskier’s already working through what he remembers from his reading.

His hands are shaking, but the discomfort pulling at Geralt’s face keeps him moving. “This is going to hurt--”

“--Jaskier--”

Jaskier grabs Geralt’s injured arm and tugs it forward, wincing at the soft pop.

“Fuck!” Geralt’s face is twisted into a sharp grimace, and he’s panting, chest heaving in quick, long waves that’s got Jaskier frowning deeply.

“Sorry--”

“--are you alright?”

Jaskier sucks in a sharp breath, taken back by the severity of Geralt’s tone, and he moves to nod, a habit, but he pauses, considering a previous argument.

“-- you lack the mere capability to assess your physical health...”

Slowly, he shakes his head. “No,” he admits. He feels weak, a result of fleeting adrenaline, and without meaning to, he drops his head against Geralt’s good shoulder with a deep sigh. “But I will be. You?”

“My shoulder tingles a little,” Geralt grunts out, good hand finding Jaskier’s waist. “But, it feels much better.”

Jaskier moves one hand to cup Geralt’s, and he chases the swelling wave of relief washing over him. “I’ll need to make a sling for your arm until it’s fully healed.” Yet, he makes no notion of moving, not when Geralt’s hand is a warm, steady weight at his waist.

“The first kill isn’t easy,” Geralt whispers. “But you did well. You knew that only silver can kill a doppler.”

Kill. Jaskier shudders at the word, and his hand tightens around Geralt’s. “Not exactly what I had in mind for this Tuesday, but,” he lifts his head to meet Geralt’s studying gaze, “I have a good instructor.” He smiles weakly, still slightly shaken at the core, but Geralt smiles back at him, a warm, encouraging smile, and just for a moment, Jaskier knows that they are okay.

#the witcher #netflix the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #whumpfic #my writing #my witcher writing #whump #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #so a) i'm not a doctor by any means and relied solely on google to tell me about shoulder discloations #and b) when tf am i'm gonna make them kiss???#i thought it was going to be this chapter #but the time still didnt feel right

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sawdustandgin · 3 years

Text

A Year of Happiness, Joy and Sarcasm: My 2020 in Review

Absolutely nothing needs to be said about the year of our lord 2020 that hasn’t already been shouted from every social media platform like a shrieking alarm alerting us that the ship is sinking. We know. We’re all wet.

I will not remember 2020 as mask-clad because I didn’t take any photos while wearing one.

Every December, I reflect on the year through a short essay, allowing myself many opportunities to gush about the music that I didn’t include on my best-of lists but that I still loved dearly. (Though I guess I skipped last year. I found an abandoned draft the other day…) And consistently, I have regarded each year as one of transition.

I don’t have clear career aspirations outside of wanting to engage with music as deeply and personally as I can; my only concrete life plan is to profile small towns across the country through the lens of its local music scene. So, with this nebulous image of a future endeavor, I have had a tumultuous time with money since losing my job two years ago. I realized fairly quickly, after only a few months of foundering at it, that I was unable to freelance my way to a liveable income. And in all honesty, this was for the best—nothing hurts worse than realizing the activity you are most passionate about has become a chore. I stopped worrying about pitching editors and trying to rub elbows, and I got to work applying for jobs. I, incredibly luckily, secured one after a few more months. The adjustment to being unemployed was a leap for me and my deep desire for a routine, but the adjustment to being employed and trying to maintain a balance between day job and side gig was even harder.

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Then I loosened up a bit. Toward the end of last year, I tried to make a vow to be more consistent with the blog, but instead, I prioritized sleep. At the time, I didn’t realize that it was an either/or scenario and probably would have made a greater effort to avoid my television if I had. But ultimately, I had to accept that my relationship with music journalism was on my terms. And regardless of how [in]frequently I ‘discovered’ new artists (for myself), I wasn’t ‘missing out’ on anything.

And let’s be real, I wasn’t overly eager to listen to new stuff starting around April. I put so much energy into not losing myself in quarantine that I tuckered myself out before shit really hit the ceiling. When I began thinking toward my year-end lists in November, I began to worry that this would be my most deflated best-of season in recent memory.

That’s ok, Zoë, no one really cares about top ten lists, I can hear you thinking, colored by a fascination with my determination. But as a double cancer and pisces moon, I like to cling to the art that moves my soul (read: ~nostalgia~). And so I take great joy in spending all of December and most of January repeatedly listening to my favorite music until I conjure a partially arbitrary ranking system and create playlists galore. It really is the best time of the year.

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Of course, there are always a few titles that need no additional spins, whether due to automatic disqualification or simply because I listened so much that I know it intimately. The automatic disqualifications this year were particularly striking.

A few easy omissions were Chromatica, Positions, and Fetch the Bolt Cutters. Lady Gaga delivered her skip-less album around the time when it became clear that the pandemic was not even somewhat close to containment; my roommate and I cooked to Chromatica every night, singing along to every word. With each new record, Ariana Grande becomes a more graceful songwriter, and it also helps that Positions is a plain ol', boot-knockin’ good time. And the raw power Fiona Apple wields in Fetch the Bolt Cutters would be frightening were she not the perfect vessel to deliver it to us.

Then there is the category of albums that simply didn’t need my (albeit dim) spotlight: Set My Heart on Fire Immediately, græ, and KicK i are each masterpieces in their own right. They each move purposefully through diverse landscapes, each song a new adventure not bound by genre or expectation. Interestingly, Perfume Genius and Moses Sumney were never mainstays in my music rotation, while my love for Arca is unquestioned.

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That leads us to Re-Animator, I’m Your Empress Of and The Mosaic of Transformation, all of which I actively feel bad for disqualifying. I’m too much of a fan of Everything Everything to impartially write about their new album, though it was one of my most frequently played. I have been writing best-of lists for six years now and I would prefer to write about a constantly expanding, diverse group of artists. That means I can’t keep doting on Empress Of, despite her status as one of our best contemporary artists. Me and Us were truly just prelude to her 2020 record, whose title is a formal introduction. Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith is also the most talented analog synth musician that I personally have ever engaged with, and her latest album is everything I could have wanted.

It took some self-control (aka strict time management) to not write a few thousand words about The Ascension. Let’s recall my massive thesis on Carrie & Lowell… Yes, I am a former Catholic who thrives in the ambiguous invocation of Scripture, especially from a songwriter who quite literally shaped my taste in music. Luckily, I’m not nearly as pent up with anger and existential dread as in 2015 when I was, for the first time, processing the physical and emotional distance from my family. This elongated emotional breakdown was spurred by drama between my parents, but was also due to an irrational fear I held about my own mother’s death. Listening to Sufjan Stevens forgive his mother on her figurative deathbed has stayed with me.

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The anxiety I felt about 2020 was almost entirely external, so the gorge formed from the current of The Ascension was not nearly as deep a canyon in my heart as C&L, though it is still an affecting 80-minute journey. Stevens’ production, when coupled with his lyricism, is a breakthrough, though I do hear murmurs of folktronica from earlier in the decade. (I’m begging everyone to listen to Under Our Beds by Consilience.) And for perhaps the first time, there were songs that I occasionally skip. If I still had to commute to work, I bet they would have grown on me. In fact, this would have been a perfect driving album—one that wouldn’t cause me to weep while on the interstate. (oh Carrie. oh Lowell.)

Then there was VOL.II by my dear friend Lauren Ruth Ward. She gave me an opportunity to write a unique interview with her about the record to be printed on the inside of the gatefold, making it a permanent fixture on this most exciting of sophomore albums. I could not justify writing anything more about it, if only to preserve the sanctity of that interview, which I gave more effort and attention than any other piece of writing I had done. It was a wonderful and inspiring experience that I hope to replicate. The most heartbreaking part of the pandemic’s onset, from a social perspective, was not being able to visit Lauren after the record was released.

With all that said, 2020 was about so much more than the music I listened to. All the digital replacements for physical intimacy during lockdown made me realize that my legacy (aka all my music writing) is fragile, locked into the impermanence of the internet. So I took it upon myself to build a physical archive; in the fall, I finalized a zine template, and the first eight issues are in the can. (So far, I have 19 zines planned. Email me if you are interested in having one!)

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I’ve also been living without a front tooth since mid-March. On one hand, it’s been convenient to wear a mask to hide the hole in my mouth, but on the other hand, all I want to do is bite into an apple. (For almost two years before I even knew I had to have my tooth removed, I had been forced to slice apples before being able to eat them. The abject humiliation.) The journey with my dentists and oral surgeon has been excruciating, to say the least. Who knew three people in the same medical practice could have such mightily different styles of care? [Author’s note: I got my crown after writing this essay! :grinning-emoji:]

In sum, it was my image of myself that I was able to see a bit clearer this year. Each year I think that I’ve figured something else out about myself, which had always led me to believe that I am a most-complex, divine being. But I think a more accurate interpretation is that, put simply, I am not static. My thoughts and emotions adapt to life and life doesn’t seem to stop throwing me around like sneakers in a tumbling dryer. My pronouns are now they/them and while I don’t have many specifics as to why, I just know that this feels right.

I hope your year was at least acceptable; 2021 promises a host of new challenges, but I think we can take ‘em.

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#year in review #best of #best of 2020 #music blog #music review #Lady Gaga #Ariana Grande #Fiona Apple #Perfume Genius #Moses Sumney #Arca #Everything Everything #Empress Of #Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith #Sufjan Stevens #Consilience #Lauren Ruth Ward #2020 #year in review 2020

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mehenxe · 3 years

Note

“ i want to be in love. ” / “ can i be a little nasty?” / “ it wasn’t anyone’s fault. not really. ” / “ i’m losing my mind, losing control. ” / “ terrified of my love for you?” / “ your words felt like sharp knives. ” / “ how did you become like this?” / “ say something nice or don’t speak. ” / “ really? what did you dream about?” / “ we were both afraid, shut up. ” — dealer's choice, have fun.

“ i want to be in love. ” // the grey seer ◌ her best friend.

and the depiction of love upon the laptop screen in front of them, high-definition, remastered in soundtrack, unfolds. black-and-white creases and tears, static in the picture, what could i do if i didn’t have you? where will i go? and the embrace, the hands around the shoulders, the subtle squeezing of the appendages. she watches the scene, & then watches him, enraptured, wanting it. does he even realise he has remarked this aloud to her? spoken it into existence, wished so desperately for its occurrence? “i know,” she whispers. just in case he hadn’t. just in case this is a secret he wished for the walls to swallow. “i know you do. and maybe you already are. and it just hasn’t seen you yet.” perhaps she is thinking of herself. perhaps she is thinking of a woman with dark, short hair and gloss on her lips. perhaps she is thinking about all the things she said. or hadn’t. “it’ll happen. i promise. just be patient.”

“ can i be a little nasty? ” // the french serpent ◌ his beaded shark.

the inquiry interrupts the little song and dance he has happening in front of the stove. two pans on the burners, one sizzling, one being brought up to sizzling after being coated in olive oil. it is a surprise supper, which he framed as cooking for others but, in truth, he planned to cook for the two of them. he glances over his shoulder, arching his brow. breakfast for supper: the staple of french toast, of course, and then some spins on grilled cheese, quick little soup. something sweet bakes in the oven. he meets that little smirk, and realises he must be in a good mood. ( it pleases him greatly to see him smile. ) “a — little nast-ee?” he is dressed in a matching set of black silk pyjamas and bright blue shark slippers. his apron is blush-pink, with the princess is in the castle embroidered in the corner. he shakes his hips as if dancing. “now, i am intrigued? tell me at once what is on your mind, eh? nice kisses in, ah, naughty places?”

“ it wasn’t anyone’s fault. not really. ” // the god of death ◌ his god of life.

the city stretches out behind them, fog-riddled, dense, encrypted. a myriad of secrets he must discover within its recesses, all of them putrid, stinking of bile. he sits at the desk, crossed one ankle over one knee, elbow propping up his upper body and his neck, erect. his glasses do not disguise the repulsion in his gaze, and he does not bother to save face about it. a sneer, then; a bitter draught to drink from. it wasn’t anyone’s fault. then there is that pause, that label slapped on their foreheads: not really. judgement passed, recite the sign of the cross, depart the pews. the service is ending. the funeral is over. “not really, hm. is that your defence now?” he rises. he is rolling in his own steam, the own wrath of it. but he cannot bring himself to raise his voice. it is as though there are too many parties listening. “not really. that means it was someone’s fault. and we know exactly who’s fault it was, don’t we?”

“ i’m losing my mind, losing control. ” // the bejewelled dragon ◌ his skeleton beast.

“no, you’re not. you’re right here with me.” blood, dripping from the edge of the soul’s sword, and he stows it in his scabbard, the echoing veins of the throbbing hollow, deadening around them. the whole of the battle, muted. soot against their cheeks, and he swipes it off of his thin cheek and it drags, it stains further. “you’re not losing anything. okay? it’s different now.” and it remains to be seen, how much he would do, how much he could do, in order to make sure this pierced his hide and penned itself as the ultimate truth. the bones of their dragon-corpses, how they rise from the stream, water pouring from their nostrils. the errant roar of another from not too far away, the slipping and diving of their siblings. the star-magic pealing through the sky. his heart throbs as he stares at him, watches those eyes, staring, daring them almost to become as soulless as they both feel. “we’re almost done here. it’ll be over soon.”

“ terrified of my love for you? ” // the undying warlord ◌ his ridden battle.

it had been the one confession they both had silently agreed to avoid. what good would it do, for creatures of their respective natures to love? to be such beasts of the literal underworld, for love to be a price that neither of them can afford. what good would it do? and now, the bones revealing themselves, the flesh peeled away. they do not stand far from each other. there are no clothes to separate them. he feels so young, his breath stopping entirely, and how fortunate it is that he does not need it any longer to be alive. ( he is, after all, nothing worse off than dead. ) how can he hope to — what will he — “terrified? perhaps. terrified of what it means. terrified of you. what you mean. how we’re going to — how we’re going to carry on with this. because of what is happening out there, and waking up, discovering you feral in the forest —” he shakes his head. “you love me? even through this, you love me, and how?”

“ your words felt like sharp knives. ” // the god of chaos ◌ his oceanic song.

he keeps his back to him. the carton of cigarettes, a staple on the counter, perhaps even more so than home-cooked food, and this, this was the person that he had surrendered the remnants of his piss-poor life for. this was the glitter-bomb, the madness unravelling, the toxic and terrible idea that so readily laid itself bare across his lap. getting high together, and regaining feeling in their senses through slotting their hips and moaning into each other’s mouths, this had become his life. he is a sharp knife. left out where he can be touched, he slices, that is the end of it. this is what his lover knew, when he signed up to continue to be with him. when he ignored all of the warning signs, the red flags, the advice from others. the better choices. “the hell you want me to say? i already said sorry. i even meant it.” everything he says, awful, crooked, it has no general direction. as chaotic as he is. “you want me on my knees, princess?”

“ how did you become like this? ” // the final heir ◌ his grey seer.

frothing, flames licking at his arms, he embodied the arson, the tragedy. he could not escape it. he wept tears and all of them tasted like the grief he refused to acknowledge. himself, thorough in how embittered he had become against those he once called friends. and how difficult it made things, in attempting to connect with people of a different time. now, their conversation, hushed and secretive. all could see him, and yet it is as though he cannot exist freely. “i already told y’all the story of what went on. we’re tryna find out the truth of it, yeah? but — i guess that ain’t what you mean.” and he isn’t sure what else there is. what else he has been created from except for his wounds. how the witch managed to sew him together will remain a mystery for as long as he remains a tethered soul. “i became like this ‘cause — i dunno. nobody was around to make me become somethin’ different. that’s all i got, really.”

“ say something nice or don’t speak. ” // the fallen jedi ◌ his lilac princess.

“don’t speak? perish the thought.” he is cross again. look at him, with that pucker across his forehead and the crease in his brow. he’s become offended by something that was said, and to think, he hadn’t the slightest idea what had done it. leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and he pushes away from that surface to approach him. his boots softening each of his steps, and those, slower and deliberate. approaching, stalking perhaps. because he finds him to be stupidly interesting, and he himself is the worst idea, the worst decision that could be made for a princess of this calibre. still, the two of them, refraining from ever touching, and yet, continuing their orbit, their delicious desires licking at their insides. he would like to lick him. down that slim column of a throat. perhaps he should say that. perhaps that would be nice. “we can’t have it both ways. either you want me to speak my mind, or not.”

“ really? what did you dream about? ” // the ripest peach ◌ her stable mountain.

she had not dreamt in quite some time, and therefore, it frightened her. what does it mean, these successions of images, these pictures in frames? of children that she had known, and ones she did not remember, what significance could this have? she presses her back into his chest, his shoulders broad, his arms large; all of him, larger than life, than the world, strong and impermeable as rock, and she melts against it. her nakedness safe with him, her medical scars, her lack of fertility. her darkest secrets, which she has so long tucked beneath her tongue. and he brushes back her hair from her ears, as if coaxing the churning words from her mind. “i had a dream that — that we were all in paradise together. that the creatures had gone. that our family hadn’t separated. i had a dream that none of us had to die in order to find it. there were so many children there. running in the fields amok. all of them — ours.”

“ we were both afraid, shut up. ” // the underground racer ◌ his forsaken son.

“... y-yeah! we were both afraid, sure! or maybe we weren’t!” his lover, climbing over the middle console, grinding his hips down upon his own hips, and he bites back a moan. they’re going to forget about the fear; it doesn’t matter if it’s confessed to the walls of this car. the engine, how it purrs as it stalls, until he turns it off, and then, only their mingling breaths. the sound of a zipper, that hand, it finds him — “oh.” a gasp. “yeah — oh, jesus —” their clothes, sliding down enough to reach each other, to be bare where it matters, where they’re most needed. he clings to those hips, slides that tunic up his lover’s chest, bites down on the skin there. “you shut up.” halfway to teasing. he feels every part of him now, his irises so brown, mundane, attentive. “make me shut up.” he does. hips in tight circles, reducing him to whimpers, his own rocking, frantic, and passioned. “y-you shut up, i — oh, god, i love you — you’re so good, baby —”

#mr: mine #moonbeam tag #v: we are engraved in our hearts

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su-nlt · 5 years

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Things Confirmed In Steven Universe: The Movie

New Gems: Spinel, unnamed uncorrupted gems

New Fusions: Steg, Alexandrite (new form) Opal (new form)

New Objects: Giant Injector Drill, Bio Poison, Rejuvinators

New Locations: Pinks Garden

New Songs: https://su-nlt.tumblr.com/post/187175460886/su-movie-soundtrack-list-revealed

Also this turned out to be like 4 pages long, so I inserted a read more link for everyone's convenience. Click to read more!

The opening of the movie mimics that of a classic Disney movie

It has been two years since the events of Change Your Mind, and, in accordance with his mental state, Steven has aged to look like a 16 year-old, as well as received a new outfit

Aside from the opening flashback, Jasper does not appear in the movie. Most sightings have just been of other Jaspers

This is the first movie in the series

The movie contains a total of 38 songs

WD wrote a book about Stevens adventure

PDs legs are back on Homeworld

Other Heaven and Earth Beetle gems can be seen on the beach planet

The Zircons are alive and free (they can be seen in a crowd shot on a green planet)

Spinel can been seen in one of the locations during Stevens broadcast

The Diamonds have allotted airtime

The Diamonds have disbanded their armies, liberated their colonies, refrained from shattering, and have practices better manners. Blue has also stopped using her crying power

The Diamonds have gotten better at showing affection

While recognizing Steven as his own person, the Diamonds still fawn over him like Pink

A warp from Earth to Homeworld has been established

Stevens new house has several new features, including

-a warp pad within a greenhouse and Gem computer

-Flags representing Earth and Homeworld

-An actual second floor (Stevens room used to just be a loft)

-a balcony attached to stevens bedroom

- A Lonely Blade poster, The Painting of Garnet and Steven, the MoonGoddess statue, the Space Train to the Cosmos CD, the KEEP box from Greg’s storage, a photo of the main CGs, the picture of Greg and Rose, a new game system, a glass of Pine Needle tea, a crystal gem logo, another picture of Connie, the Stephen mug, Steven’s old red shirt, and a few photos of the Temple have all been added to Stevens room

-The picture of Rose was moved from on top of the door to the side of the stairs

-A dining room table

-Centipeedle’s drawing hangs on Stevens fridge

- Roses broken sword is on display

-More planets and pictures

Steven uses his bubble to go down stairs

Connie and Steven are now in a relationship

Connie is interested in a space-related career

Cat Steven is now fully grown

Pearl is learning how to play the bass guitar

The chest in Lion’s mane is open

Lars now cooks for others

Lars hair has grown a bit

The Off-Colors are now on Earth

There's a bubble with a slice of cake in the temple

Bubbles can preserve food

In place of the barn, a community known as “Little Homeworld” has been made, as a place for the uncorrupted gems to live

Little Homeworld is 83% complete

Warp pads can be moved around

Amethyst and Steven have made up a handshake

Steven is no longer the shortest in the main squad

This is our first time seeing ‘original’ Amethyst

Amethyst didn't have a Diamond insignia when she first emerged

Amethysts size was not the only thing different about her when she first emerged. He limbs where segmented, her hair short, her outfit simplistic, and her intellect stunted

Amethyst considers the Uncorrupted gems and New Crystal Gems part of her family

Steven now runs in front of the group

A small house has been added to the lighthouse

Spinel (Pronounce SPIN-el) are made to be entertainers (ie. Best Friends)

Spinel’s design and animation appear to be inspired by a style over animation known as Rubberhose (popular in the 1920s-1940s) She also appears to inspired particularly by the characters of Mickey Mouse (original Spinel) and Oswald the Rabbit (Evil Spinel) judging by her buns/pigtails (How they are both always showing no matter the angle)

Spinel and Pearl know each other

Garnet's Gauntlets have her wedding rings on them

Spinels theme is electro-swing

Spinels can store objects in their gems

Spinels power is enhanced shape-shifting (which include the power to turn into a spinning top and turning her hands into giant fists)

The black lines on Spinels face resemble running mascara

Giant injectors exist, have Heart-Shaped gems at the top of them, and can fly

There hasn't been much combat since the events of CYM

Spinels gem cut is perfect

Spinels come in other colors

Spinel can move her eyes in different directions

Spinels squeak when they move

Items in gems gems stay with them after rejuvenation

In terms of ‘threat to Steven’ Lapis is still considered on the fence

Peridot doesn't know what rejuvenators are, implying that they don't exist/ aren't used in Era 2+

Blue Garnet’s outfit in the “Isn't it Love?” song sequence implies Sapphire is barefoot under her dress

Potent Biochemicals exist, which destroy organic life and organic materials, but does not affect gems

Rejuvenators , which are shaped like synths, can poof and ‘reset’ a gems memory, and were used to ‘correct’ gems how stepped out of line. However, the process can be somewhat easily reversed by unlocking a gems memory.

Judging by the title of her song (system/BOOT.pearl_final(3).Info ) this is the third time Pearl has been rebooted

Pearls are given a customization option whenever they first form, any are loyal to whoever activates the menu

The memories of Fusions are also reset when their components are reset

While Steven organic half is unaffected by the Rejuvenator, his gem was reset, causing his powers to be reset

The ability to access Lion's mane is a power exclusive to Steven, and is considered to be his easiest power

Spinel has abandonment issues

The Heaven and Earth Beetles engage in afternoon constitutionals

Until she learns ‘the truth’, every one of original Garnet’s lines in the movie is a question

The Uncorrupted gems wander around Beach City

Spinel does eat

Vidalia has made more Amethyst painting

Ronaldo's phone PIN is 989675979

The moment where Amethyst and Steven cheat as speed ball is a reference to the episode ‘Arcade Mania’

The moment where Steven pulls Amethyst out her hole in the Alpha Kindergarten is a reference the episode ‘On The Run’, where Pearl pulls Amethyst out of the Hole

Giant injectors are considered unstable, and are controlled through sound

The Warehouse is both a concert venue and safe house

Greg stores Sadie Killer shirts in his Storage Unit

Sadie Killer and the Suspect have gotten popular

Mike Krol (who guest starred in the episode ‘Last One Out of Beach City’) provided the bass, guitar, and drums for the song ‘Disobedient’

The majority of Uncorrupted gems are Quartzes

Amethyst considered Rose the love of Pearls life

Greg being uncomfortable about Amethyst shapeshifting into Rose is a reference to the episode ‘Maximum Capacity’

The moment where Garnet see ‘Rose’ at the concert is a reference to the episode ‘The Answer’

Pearl was metaphorically and literally freed when Rose left (Cant follow orders when the person who gives you them are gone)

Steven and Greg can fuse to form Steg

Stegs weapons include Stevens Shield, a dual Guitar, and his powers include levitation and the power to create shock waves

Pink had a garden on an asteroid, where she would play with Spinel

Pink used to be lonely on Homeworld

Earth was given to Pink by Yellow and Blue, but not White

Spinel used to entertain Pink as her ‘best friend’, but, without Spinel noticing, Pink grew bored with Spinel, and Pink eventually abandoned her in her Garden for 6,000 years

Spinel was left next to a patch of ‘Forget-Me-Nots’, a type of blue, white, and yellow flower

Other gem types can turn their gems

Steven is no longer surprised by Pinks actions

Gems can make their new forms somewhat taller or shorter

The shot of Connie sliding into Stevens house on Lion is a reference to the motorcycle slide from the movie ‘Akira’

Greg doesn't always wash his hands after using the bathroom

The Pizza Car has been dissolved

Alexandrite, Opal, a Bismuth all have new forms

This is the first time dripping blood has been shown in the show

The Rejuvenator has been busted

Gems can make physical objects part of their gem forms (ie. Garnets wedding rings)

The citizens of Beach City and the uncorrupted gems get along well

Connie's Sword can cut through metal

Steven believes he has changed in the last few years

Steven can summon multiple shields, change the shape of his bubble, use his bubble to create shock waves,form tiny bubbles around his fists, and fully levitate

Steve can make blood disappear with his healing powers

The gem at the top of injectors are their power source

Steven realizes that no matter what, his work will never be finished

Steven can regrow plants with his healing powers

Garnet says staying hydrated is important while smooching

Spinel is trying again at friendship, but believes she's already messed up too badly with Steven and the gang

The Diamonds were willing to move to Earth to spend more time with Steven

The Diamonds consider Homeworld boring without Steven

Yellow finds Spinel funny

The reprise of ‘Come Live With Us’ is a combination of the songs ‘Come Live With Us’ and ‘Found’

The Diamonds consider Earth disgusting

The shot of the Diamonds extending their hands to Spinel is a callback to the episode ‘Your Mother and Mine’ (when the Diamonds launched their final attack on Earth)

Spinel now lives with the Diamonds in place of Pink/Steven

The song ‘Finale’ is a reprise of the songs ‘Happily Ever After’ and ‘Change’

Beach City has been rebuilt since the events of the movie, but the cliff has a few new dents in it, and their are now large ravines under the city

Steven no longer has his pink jacket (or at least, he’ll have to get a new one)

Steven, Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, Greg,and Connie put on a …...Broadway Musical? (Still not entirely sure if that canonical)

#steven universe #su movie #su movie spoilers #things confirmed in #sunlt

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forgiven-whimsy · 4 years

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The Red Violin

FFXIV write 2020 prompt 2: Sway

Shiloh’s song Shiloh and Emet’s duet (note the spotify version has a longer piano opening.)

Anyways, touches of Lominsan/Vylbrand headcanons (they’re the ff Newfoundland, imo) Aumortine music and art headcanons, and Garlean headcanons. Imagery leaning heavily on 5.3 revelations, while I don’t use express spoilers, reader beware.

Set After Rak’Tika, but before Ahm Areng.

Rated T - Angst

Wol x Emet-Selch

(Why yes the Red Violin is one of my all time favorite movies, why do you ask?)

“I am a patron of the arts, always have been, the best your kind has to offer is found in the arts, incomplete as it is, there’s a certain charm to be found in it.” Emet-Selch sipped from his wine glass, swiping his gloved finger over the bars surface then wrinkling his nose.

“What do you mean incomplete? Art is by its very nature subjective, therefore art’s completeness is defined by the artist, not the audience.” Shiloh replied, not particularly keen on hearing about all the ways she was inferior, but curious about how his timeless people made music, or art, the idea of Asciens being artists was a foreign concept, yet getting to know Emet-Selch, not entirely far-fetched. Solus Zos Galvus was historically a patron of the arts, she’d been aboard the Prima Vista and seen the reach of his patronage.

“It would be easier to show you.” And with a snap of his fingers the Crystarium vanished and he transported them to an entirely different environ. They were in a theatre, great gold trimmed red curtains, on stage a spotlight centered on a sleek black grand piano, surrounding it was all manner of string instruments, violin, cello, lute, harp, and even others she couldn’t name, Shiloh itched to touch them, to try them and see what sound they might make. The stage jutted out in a half moon, far more open than anything she’d ever seen, the audience seating surrounded the stage allowing a certain intimacy between artist and audience. Above, there was a massive chandelier whose teardrop crystals twinkled in the soft theatre lighting, the balconies climbed three stories, each gilded and carved with vines and flowers, painted in reds and golds, opulent. Stage left there was one particular balcony that caught her eye, the carvings more elaborate and draped in finery.

“This is the Great Arena Theatrum in Garlemald,” Shiloh near gasped out, before rounding on Emet-Selch, “you brought me to Garlemald?” She had just let him, an Ascien, teleport her to the heart of enemy territory, and she wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed, furious or ashamed at being taken so easily. The musician in her near fainted with joy. Regardless of Garlean politics, every musician, actor, and dancer worth their salt has dreamt of performing on the Theatrums stage, Shiloh was no exception. While she was the daughter of a Doman refugee, she had been raised in Vylbrand, and the island's lifeblood was music. A house wasn’t a home without a piano, and a fiddle, and she’d been taught both as a child. She could recall playing her fiddle standing on the kitchen table imagining herself on this very stage.

“Calm down hero, we are in an approximation of my own making, hidden away from prying eyes here in Norvrant, my fool grandson let the Theatrum fall into disrepair.” He sniffed derisively, “when I have proven my point to you I shall return you to the Crystarium without a hair out of place. It wounds me that you still don’t trust me.” He gave her a smile that did not inspire trust.

He walked her into the spotlight, his gloved hands touching her lightly at the elbow, the twinkling light from the chandelier painted stars onto the raised top of the grand piano exposing the finely curved wood and strings within. Sitting on the piano bench was a violin case, Emet-Selch presented it to her with a flourish. Shiloh sat and opened the case to reveal the most exquisite violin she’d ever beheld. The spruce top had been stained a deep red with a bow to match, she delicately ran her fingers over the curving wood, the strings, the bow. Shiloh made a noise in her throat as she lifted the rare treasure into her arms, that prompted a chuckle from her Ascien companion. “A peace offering, the only condition is to play me something that stirs your soul, something original if it please.” He lifted her chin forcing her gaze from the violin to him, “move me, and I shall show you what your music once was.”

“No pressure,” Shiloh held his gaze, seeing a spark of something she couldn’t describe in his golden eyes. “It’s been years since I’ve played, anything.” The weight of his expectation was heavy. He only smiled.

“I have faith in you, dear hero.” Emet-Selch snapped his fingers and he disappeared into a black portal, she heard it re-open stage left, and there he sat, every inch an emperor in his gilded private balcony. “Take whatever time you need to warm up.” he called from his lavish chair, glass of wine in hand. With that, the theatre lights dimmed, the instruments, all save the grand piano, vanished, the spotlight remained on her.

Shiloh felt like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. Squaring her shoulders she set the violin to her chin and prayed to all the Twelve and Kami, The Light and Dark both, that the bow would glide across the strings without screaming. The last time she’d picked up a violin was at Haurchefant’s funeral, at the behest of Lord Edmont, nearly two years past. A lance of grief sliced through her. She could refuse, she could tell him to bring her back to the Crystarium, but then, she’d never know what Ascien music sounded like. It was the memory of Haurchefant, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder playing a silly duet on his childhood piano in the Fortempt music room that steeled her spine.

She started with a slow scale, each note sung and not screamed, to her considerable relief. Shiloh exhaled, it wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t terrible, her fingers remembered the strings. She warmed up with scales, old childhood lullabies, folk songs played around the kitchen table. Finally she played an Ishgardian waltz, the sheet music a gift from her departed friend. She felt herself smiling, eyes shut, tail swaying in time with the tempo. Her mind filling in the missing instruments as the red violin sang with a full and mournful voice. So focused on practicing and remembering, Shiloh didn’t hear Emet-Selch’s portal behind her.

“All very lovely, my dear, I’m sure Master Jevant Dufet would be pleased with such an able rendering of the Midnight Waltz, and without sheet music, most impressive.”

Shiloh startled, spinning around to face him.

Emet-Selch tutted her while he approached, he placed gentle hands at her waist, spinning her back into the spotlight. He was in her space and she could feel his warmth, smell his scent. “I didn’t ask you to stop.” His long arms reached around lifting the violin back to her collar bone, he tilted her head just so before tracing a gloved finger along her jaw and arched neck. “I want to hear the song that resides in your soul.” His breath ghosted along her cheek, the timber of his voice resonating along her horn, and she felt her skin pebble. “Will you play it for me?”

“I don’t know, I don’t have any original composi-”

“Stop thinking, close your eyes, listen, and play.” His voice was patient, while he lifted her bow arm to the right position.

Shiloh inhaled, and did as she was bid, listening, for what, she didn’t know. She felt the quick beat of a Thanvarian flamenco fluttering in her chest and slowly bow met strings, and the song that flew out was urgent, her bowing quick and precise borrowing heavily of the Thanvarian style, but so too was there a distinctly Ul’dhan quality, in her mind's eye she felt as a bird flying over the dunes, weaving over the rising heat.

Emet-Selch’s touch was soft, gone was the silk of his glove, replaced by warm skin, his snap fit within her song and suddenly the guitar, the percussion, the accompanying strings, the piano, the light horns, the full voice of her song burst forth, the violin threading through each section. “Open your eyes.” he whispered against her horn, and she did.

Gone was the theatre, they were bathed in the colours of the sunset, and above them flew a phoenix, dipping and diving along all the lands she’s seen, and saved, and loved. “Don’t stop.” he whispered, setting a hand on her hip and squeezing. She gasped at the sight, at the raw beauty. And she played with a bursting heart, tears slipping from unblinking eyes unwilling to look away from the dancing phoenix. She increased the tempo, bowing more quickly, the notes tumbling along the winds of the star, knowing that it would end if she stopped, and she didn’t want it to stop. She let the fire in her soul burn as brightly as she could, uncaring of the ach in her fingers, knowing only that the creature above was born of her music, and so she played for it’s pleasure, and it soared, the violin it’s voice and heart. Until in a burst of flame it was consumed, and the song ended.

She swayed on her feet, consumed by emotion, bittersweet tears running down her face. She leaned against Emet-Selch who remained behind her, his hand at her throat, and hip moving gently, caressing. Overwhelmed she exhaled a shuddering breath.

“Do you understand now, what was lost?” He asked quietly, voice heavy with the same emotion she was feeling.

“How did you?”

“I assure you my dear I did nothing but lend you a sliver of my power, the song, the image, everything, was born of your heart, your soul. And so it was that all art was created in a similar fashion. The full intent of the piece complete.”

Shiloh spun in his arms, still clutching bow and violin, she was met with a half quirked smile and a softness in his eyes she’d not thought possible. He tenderly brushed the tears from her cheeks, “yours was always a beautiful song, so full of passion.”

Shiloh’s head was swimming, she wanted to keep playing, she had so many questions, and yet she found herself drowning in the liquid gold of his eyes, the same pale gold as her own. She licked her lips, and leaned against the palm of his hand where he held her cheek.

“Play with me?” she asked breathless, “before we go, play with me, a duet.” He closed his eyes, his expression pained, “please, Emet.”

“How can I turn down so earnest a plea?” he gave her a rueful smile, “but, first.” He pressed his forehead to her own, and she felt something, cool, and comforting wash over her, where her song, her aether, she belatedly realized, was like the sun, Emet-Selch’s aether, his soul was as the moon. Her own aether responded, curious and warm, until their essence mingled, until there was no ending nor beginning between them. “There, that should serve.”

Shiloh both did and didn’t understand what he’d done, he stepped back going to the grand piano. His presence remained, slowly curling around her, lazy and familiar. “As before, listen, and play.”

Shiloh lifted the violin, and tilted her head, giddy with anticipation, moving to be in sight of him and waited.

Emet began the song, quiet notes on the piano, Shiloh did not close her eyes this time. With each passing note the theatre fell away replaced by blackest night until a city made of stardust rose around them. He met her eyes and nodded and she knew her part had come and she joined her song to his, she knew the notes, a song from a past she couldn’t place, suddenly the starlit city filled with people wraithlike and sparkling. But it was two individuals that caught her eye. Emet-Selch changed the tempo to a style she’d never heard before, yet it was familiar, she adjusted her tempo to match. The two wraiths danced, spinning through the grand city, there was joy in their movements. Unadulterated love between them. One lifted the other, and she could swear the one who was lifted laughed, when placed down they ran from the first, a game. The first chased, sometimes catching them in a kiss, sometimes missing, until the other rounded back to jump into the firsts arms. Shiloh’s heart ached, the song and starlit players a half remembered memory. The song changed again, mournful, the city fell away, one of the wraiths, the one who played, faded, leaving only one, until it also faded, and the song ended.

She felt the pain thrumming from Emet’s aether still entwined with her own, his head bowed over the piano. Shiloh set the violin back in its case and went to him, wrapping her arms around his back, anything to ease the overwhelming sadness. His hand grasped at her arm, and she felt a shudder from him.

“I’m here.” She whispered against his ear, soft hair tickling her nose.

He shook his head.

“I’m here.” She repeated, not understanding all, but knowing what she witnessed in their shared song had been a glimpse of their story.

He twisted in her arms, anguish on his face, “you left.” his voice a harsh whisper fraught with emotion.

She had no answer for him, nothing to ease the pain, she didn’t understand, didn’t remember, whatever her soul had been to him, was gone, but it’s echo knew him, called to him, and she kissed his angry mouth, a despairing sound whimpered from Emet’s throat. He grabbed her and kissed her again, and again, hungry, lost, full of longing. Their twined aether created a feedback loop consuming them. His hands were everywhere, and Shiloh arched into him. In a moment he had her against the piano, discordant notes interrupting their growing passion. It was enough to stop them, and for a half beat they stared at each other panting. Emet-Selch was the first to move, tearing his aether from hers, and she winced, the withdrawal a physical pain. He snapped his fingers, returning Shiloh to the Crystarium, as promised, without so much as a word.

She made her way back to her room in the Pendants, still processing everything she’d learned, and seen, and felt. Every so often touching her kiss swollen lips. She slid into her room meeting no one she knew along the way, no one to question the high blush on her cheek and chest, or the dazed look in her eyes. Distracted as she was it took a minute for her to notice the violin case sitting on her kitchen table. She knew before opening it what she’d find within, a promise, a memory, her red violin.

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxiv #prompt #Emet-Selch x wol #have some music and some angst #with half an hour to spare #Shadowbringers #Vague 5.3 spoilers #Exposed writes

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bottlecaprabbitgames · 4 years

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Blake's Birthday Special

Hi, peeps! So, birthday specials are currently being set up as a time-exclusive item on my Patreon, meaning Patrons see them first and the public sees them later! So, here's the Blake Birthday special!

++++++++++

You curse softly under your breath as the timer on the oven goes off, nearly causing you to drop the glass display dish in your hands. You hurriedly set it down on your counter by the microwave and shuffle to the oven to check on the two cake layers. You quickly open the oven and slip on some cooking mits before grabbing the dull metal pans off the rack and setting them down on the stove top. "Oh, thank God." You let out a relieved huff as you find the spice cakes well-settled in their pans and not burnt. You close the oven and change the temperature, then pull your mits off and toss them onto the counter. You take your apron edge and wipe your brow. "Well… that's done."

Grabbing an ink pen, you pull your mini notepad out of your back pocket and look at the list written on it.

"To-Dos:

-Bake cakes (spice)

-Let cakes sit (DON'T TAKE OUT OF PAN UNTIL COOL)

-Ice cakes

-Make potato salad (call Blake's mom for recipe if you forget)

-Ask Freja for help on fried catfish

-Make baked macaroni

-Get those cheap sugar cookies

-Put up birthday banners with Iris (DONT LET HER BURN THE HOUSE DOWN)

-Pick up balloons and booze (Adontis took care of that)"

You check off parts on the list, and just to be entirely sure, you glance to the streamers and banners decorating your kitchen and living room, then to the tinsel wrapped around your stairs' railing, then to the bundles of balloons in every corner. Well, no one can say it's not festively decorated. Maybe too much so.

You tuck the notepad and pen back into your pocket as you walk over to where you have a pan laid out in front of the microwave. You heave the large black pot off the stove top and begin pouring mac and cheese into the pan to prep the baked macaroni, still going over in your head everything you still have to do before the party.

-----

"So, how long till he gets here?" You watch Iris check the old black metal pocket watch currently attached somewhere deep into her coat.

"T-minus five minutes," she drawls, tucking the watch back down. "He got a little backed up in traffic." Her eyes dart to you, her lashes fluttering in a way that has you and Freja both stiffening. "So, what sort of extra special gifts you got planned for your lover boy tonight, hmm?"

"None of your business-"

"Iris-"

"What what? It's an honest question!" She feigns offense, but it's ruined by the little shitty smirk on her full lips. You roll your eyes-

Knock knock knock.

-and nearly have a heart attack as Blake's familiar heavy knocks sound at the door. With your heart fluttering almost sickeningly in your chest, you shoot everyone an excited glance before darting forward to the door. "Baby, it's me, open up-"

As you open the door, everyone and yourself included yell, "Surprise!" You dance out of his way as he comes in with a confused smile, but after a moment of him taking in your heavily decorated house and the practically overflowing kitchen filled with food, you see a deep redness beginning to flush up his neck. "Oh man, guys ya didn't have to-"

"Hush," Freja interrupts with an arch stare and a cocking of her hip. "Of course we did this for you." A little smile plays on her pale lips, and her effort to hide it is less than usual. "Besides, you are the baby of the team. When you get over, say, one hundred years, we'll stop making you celebrate so lavishly."

As you move to where you are pressed against his side under his jacket with your hands on his back and chest, you look up to see the slightly annoyed look on his face and try to hold in your laughter. "Awh, thanks, shall I also bend over for you to give my birthday whuppin?" You let out a very unflattering noise as your laughter, and everyone else's, blurts out at both his words and the new look on Freja's face.

After a moment of glaring at him, she bustles off to the kitchen to grab the candles while you steer Blake into the living room where a pile of presents sits below a particularly loud birthday banner and behind a table with his cake on it. "Are you ready for us to sing to you and make your big birthday wish?"

He looks down and returns your smile as his hand splays warmly over your lower back. "I might be. Are you gonna tell me what all you got me?" You feel a wicked grin curl your lips.

"Well, some of it's here… and some of it's waiting for you later."

"Oh?"

"Mhmm." You see heat flare in his eyes and you have to look away to keep from being set on fire by it. Well, on the outside, anyway. Adontis scoots down the couch to make room for you both beside him. Blake pulls his jacket off before joining you and throws it to Iris, who grabs one arm of it and spins it around her head while whooping and shaking her hips. The room fills with laughter again, even Freja's light laughter as she appears with the candles in hand, slightly shaking her head. Loche moves to help her place them, one of those long-stem lighters tucked into one of his hands. "Well, old man, you best start figuring out that big birthday wish."

"'Old man'? I'm not that old-"

"You are older than me, so yes, I do think that makes you rather old," Markus teases from one of the kitchen chairs that were brought into the living room. Blake gives him a droll look that earns him an answering coy smirk. "The youngest of the team outside of your partner, and still older than your ancient wrangler. Alas, the woes of old men."

"I'm not old." You yelp when he gives you a sharp tap on your bottom, and you give him an answering one on his inner thigh. "Ouch!"

"Can't even take as good as you give," Adontis tsks. "The signs of old age."

"You can't even talk about old, there's bedrock younger than you." Another chorus of laughter erupts as you duck down while Blake and Adontis have a play-fight by slapping at each other.

"Settle down, settle down! If you upturn this table, not even the Ancients will be able to save you lot from what I'll do to you," Freja hisses threateningly as she places the last two candles. It's rather comedic to see two men nearly twice her size move so quickly away from each other that the couch nearly tips backwards to avoid her wrath.

"Is it ready?" Fawn's voice drifts from behind you. Freja nods, to which Loche quickly begins to light the candles. You lightly rub Blake's knee as he does, up till he finishes, then you stand.

"Alright guys, all together now…"

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Blake, happy birthday to you!" After that last part, the song breaks into different lines from everyone, including "And to many more!", "You look like a monkey, and smell even worse!", And "Yippie!"

While you and Freja portion out slices of the buttercream-covered spice cake, you can feel Blake's on you the entire time.

-----

Later, after everyone has wandered either out onto your porches or to the living room, you find yourself alone in the kitchen with Blake as you start to wrap up the leftovers and he helps himself to more food. After a small comfortable silence, he chuckles. "I still can't get it out of my head how Loche reacted to the surprise rolls." You join him in laughing, recalling the leopard man's immediate facial contortion after biting into one of your special 'surprise rolls'. A sourdough roll filled with pickled meat, some fresh vegetables, and french dressing, he wasn't quite ready for the sour and tangy flavor he found.

"I was worried he'd spit it out, but after that first bite he ended up eating five of them." As you tuck another Tupperware bowl into your fridge, you feel Blake's large, warm hands lightly wrap around your hips. You shut the fridge door and lean back into his chest, letting your hands reach up to run down his cheek and through his hair.

"Thank you. For the party, for the cake, for… everything." Something in his voice tugs at your chest when he says 'everything'. You lean your head back and smile at him even though he's got an almost somber expression at the moment.

"Of course, you're absolutely welcome. You deserve it. All of it." You turn in his arms and wrap yours around his waist, and he moves his arms to wrap around you, pulling you tightly to him.

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do. And I love you too."

"Yeah. Don't know how I managed that one, but it seems I'm starting to do something right." He buries his face in your hair, and you feel utterly… at home. At peace.

#blake gautier #agent blake #blake birthday bash

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jj-lynn21 · 4 years

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Roll with It: Bill & x-reader/Princess

This idea inspired by as ask to @lihikainanea Read her great piece about Bill and Tiger here. Warnings: Fluff, smut, dash of angst mood song: The Killers - When You Were Young

Bill grumbles under his breath as you both get ready for his little brother, Osssian’s, 10th birthday party. You are super excited to be going skating again. It has been years since you breezed around a rink. You are pretty confident it will all come back to you once you lace up your leopard skates with the pink wheels. Bill seems more reluctant to go at all, "I don't know why the kid wanted a roller skating party. Maybe, ice skating but roller skating is so American." "Excuse me?" You raise your eye brows.

"Sorry, Princess," Bill cringed under your gaze. "The last time I skated I fell on my ass multiple times. Alex and Gustaf were laughing at me the whole time. That was ice skating. This roller skating seems like it will be much more difficult."

You hold back a laugh, "Its easier than ice skating in my opinion. You can always rent roller blades. The wheels are in a line more along the line of ice skating. I had rollr blades but I prefer skates. You know I hate to be cold."

Bill wraps his arms around you, still just in his black jeans, "I would keep you warm enough in the cold."

You put your hands on his chest looking up at him with a smile, "I know you would, Bill." You pat his chest and try to pull away even though you know damn well you will not be released until he wants to release you. "Put on that leopard print button up that matches my tank top and skates and everything underneath." You wink with a giggle.

"Fuck, I love that set." He held your face tilting it just a little more to smother his lips to yours as he walked you back towards the bed. "Let me see."

You life your arms up for him to get your tank to off revealing the leopard front zip bra. He lays you back on the bed. As he unzips the bra with his teeth his hand movies down to unsnap your pants to start to pull them off. Bill take your left nipple and then your right into his mouth making them hard and tender to every flick of his tongue.

"This won't get you out of going skating," You rasp breathing heavily between each word.

He lays kisses down her sternum, "Not trying to get out of anything, Princess. Trying to get into something for comfort before trying something new."

You can't help but giggle at his line as he pulls your jeans off and tosses them to the floor. He runs a hand over the front of your damp panties. Then grins as he pulls the zipper that runs your entire slit. His hard cock twitches at the sound the zipper makes as it glides so easily revealing your warmth.

He leans over you. His eyes flash over you with that mischievous boyish grin sliding across his face as he takes you. Your knees bend up around him. Your hips push into his every thrust. The deeper he goes the more you whimper out your pleasure. You have the perfect rhythm together as you bury your face in his chest and nails in his shoulder blades. "fuck, I need to pull out and come on your tits," He pants. "We have to be more careful than we have been."

You just nod in agreement almost at your apex. He pulls out dripping before he wanks a few times covering your chest with his seed as he let's out a satisfied groan. As he leans down to kiss you, his fingers rub down to your throbbing clit so you get the satisfaction he always guarantees. Bill swoops you up to go take you shower after.

Within a half hour Bill opens the front door for you to go out before him. Maybe a little late, but damn it was worth it. When you get to the skating rink, Kolbjorn runs over throwing himself on Bill. Bill picks him up hugging him tight.

The eight-year-old is over joyed to see Bill, "I can skate so good big, big, big brother. I only fell on my bum twice and I laughed with big brother. He's 10 now so he skates better but not much. We are trying not to let our bums hit the floor." He giggled.

"Cool, little man, " He sits his youngest brother down. "Where is the birthday boy?"

"He's out there skating with Gustaf," Kolbjorn pulls you and Bill's hands. "Come skate with us. There is a bounce house to but you can't wear your skates in there."

"Okay little man," Bill chuckles. "Go skate. We will get our skates on and meet you out there."

You go sit along the wall near the lockers across from the skating floor. Bill kneels looking up at you as his hand glides down your calf to pull off your platform sneakers. Then he put on your skates. As he laced them Ossian skated towards you. He jumped on Bill's back. "What's up brother?"

Bill grabs his skate pulling him down to the floor tickling him as the boy giggles uncontrollable. "I wasn't sure a ten-year-old boy would still giggle so silly."

"Help, my Princess," Ossian's high pitched squeals echoed through the roller rink.

"Your, Princess?" Bill chuckled evilly. "She is definitely my..."

You tackle Bill tickling his neck and under his arms where you know he is most ticklish.

"Stop," He laughs letting his brother go pulling you under him instead. He pins your arms. "You are in trouble later little girl."

You giggle, "I know but I had to save the birthday boy."

"Fair enough," He lets you up.

Ossian grabs your hand pulling you towards the skating floor, "Skate away quickly while we can, Princess.”

"Alright, alright Ossian." You look to Bill.

"Go on, I'll be out there when I get my skates on," He sits and takes his boots off.

You let Ossian roll you along. He catches his sister Eija's hand, who is holding Sam's, who is holding Axel's who is speeding around the ring on his light up skates. As a corner comes Alex whips the family around flinging everyone to speed down the straight away. As you pass the skate floor entrance you see Bill clinging to the lockers.

You skate over to him quickly, "How are you doing, sweet boy?"

Bill turns leaning against the lockers with his arms crossed. "I'm cool."

You reach your hand out, "Let's go than."

You pull him easy enough but as soon as he attempt to move his feet, they slide in different directions. He starts to fall. A large mushroom shaped seating area catches his bottom. His arms flailed a little before they rested palms on seat.

You hide a chuckle behind your hand. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Bill grumbles.

"How about you just let me pull you," you smile. "I could get one of your brother's to help get you use to the skates?"

"NO!" he stood. "We can do this."

"Alright," you said calmly pulling him towards the floor.

Bill grabs the half wall as soon as you step onto the floor. He stepped off the carpet on to the hardwood floor. His feet slip every which way.

"Put your feet like this," You put your feet heels closer together and toes out slightly I you learned when you were four and taught other children. He is the biggest kid you ever taught. "Just scissor your feet."

Bill manages to let go of the wall with one hand. He tries doing as you instruct. His legs wobble. He gets a little more comfortable as the low wall ends. You take his hands smiling as he slowly keeps going forward. You skate backwards. When his family whipped around a corner laughing Bill's hands pull from yours, arm swing wild as his skates went askew and he fell right on his coccyx. You went right down with him when his skate wheel lodged into yours.

"Fuck," Bill yelled. The music was to loud for anyone else to hear him. "You alright, Princess? I took you right down with me."

Gustaf spins coming to a screeching halt near you. "Don't go to far without me, Kolbjorn" He yells to the youngest Skarsgard before turning to you and Bill. "You two alright? Maybe you need one of those wheel walkers Kolbjorn is using, Bill?" "My ass bone hurts like hell," Bill complains. "How are you so good at skating Gustaf?"

"The kids skate with Alex every time they visit him in New York and I go along when I am in the States." Gustaf explained.

"Sorry, Bill." You try to save face for him. "I just took your big ass down with me when I fell. Maybe I need some lunch and I'll get some ice for you. Thanks for checking on us Gustaf." You get up easily.

"You want some help off the floor little brother?" He amends his statement quickly so Bill doesn't think it would make him seem weak. "Since you were hurt when you fell it might make it more difficult for you to skate to the side."

Bill nods. His pride as busied as his coccyx, but he knows you and Gustaf won't tease him like the others might, especially Valter. The two of you help Bill off the floor as Kolbjorn follows.

"Are you okay?" The little one asked surprised one of his big strong brothers were being helped off the floor.

"Sometimes you just fall down," You said to him with a giggle. "And when one falls, whoever is near them does to. But we are fine."

"Yeah, I'm cool little man." Bill smiled and Kolbjorn hugged him. "Go skate with Gustaf. Maybe we will join you after a small break."

"Cool," Kolbjorn pulls Gustaf back to the floor and left the wheeled walker there. He was a little wobbly but Gustaf kept him up, well mostly.

"How about I get lunch?" You suggested.

"Oh hell yes," He starts to take his skates off.

"You will be putting those back on later," You insisted.

"Yeah, alright." Bill grumbled. "But I'm just going to sit over at a table while we eat. Can you get me some ice for my back."

"Sure, baby boy." You kissed him sweetly without having to stretch. That is one of the best things about skates, they make you a little taller. And you would show him how that benefit him after lunch. You had a few good memories of things you did when you were a teenager that would put him in a better mood before he tried to skate again.

You skate up to the concession stand. Valter is leaning on the counter flirting with the worker. "Don't let that innocent smile fool you, he is devious."

She laughs. Valter smirks at you," What's up Princess?"

"Not much buttercup," You said whimsically. "Can I get a bag of ice, a hotdog, two slices of pepperoni pizza and two Pepsi's?" You said politely to too counter person.

"You got enough to feed my brother; are you going to eat anything?" Valter licked his lips watching the counter person get things as he talked to you.

You laughed, "Maybe he will share a nibble or two."

The counter person handed you a small hotdog bun bag full of ice, "This is the best I can do."

"That will be just fine," You take the bag.

Valter looks at you suspiciously, "Did Bill fall on his ass already."

"I lost balance and pulled him down," your eyes darted.

"Sorry, I missed the theatrics," He chuckled. "Watch yourself out there, Princess."

You put the ice on the top of the drinks in the box the counter person put everything in so you could carry it all easier. "I sure will." You smile as you started to skate away. You turned your head back. "You two be careful also. No making out behind the counter." You started towards Bill.

"What were you guys laughing about over there," Bill inquired gruffly. He picks up a piece of pizza shoving half of it in his mouth as soon as you put everything down on the table.

You push the ice pack down to his tailbone before you sit across from him. "I was teasing him and the counter person he is flirting with. He did ask about the ice. I said the same thing we told Gustaf. He won't bother you about it."

You lean over to suck some sauce off the corner of his mouth. Then you take a sip of your drink before picking up the hotdog. It is more of a sausage dog. A bit longer and thinker than a regular hot dog. You don't even think twice about putting a large portion in your mouth before taking a bite.

Bill smirked as he watched you and took a drink of his Pepsi. "You enjoying lunch?"

"Sure," you said innocently. "How's the pizza?"

"Good enough," He bites into the second slice.

You finish your food and sip on your drink. "I practically lived at the skating rink when I was a tween and in my early teens. Do you know what I did when I was not skating?"

Bill shrug, "video games."

"I played those sometimes," A grin streamed across your face. "Places like this on Friday and Saturday nights with no young kids or families were freedom from some rules. I started smoking in the bathroom here. I smoked at football games also but here it seemed less of a chance getting caught."

"I started about the same time, I guess." Bill smiled wistfully. "We had similar places to feel a little freedom from parents. I'm sure we did similar other things at such places."

"Maybe," you said coyly.

"Yeah," he starting grinning. "Were you one of the girls that put it all at on display with whoever you liked or did you find a small little hideaway for some secret seduction ritual of young lust?"

"Stop," you blush.

"Secret place is my guess," He looks around. "And you are petite to fit..."

A blush erupts on your cheeks as it always had done when you were young. Bill gets up and holds his hand out. You take it. He pulls you over to the arcade area.

"Somewhere around here, right?" He grins.

"Maybe," You blush harder.

He pushes you between two video games, "Oh look, you still fit."

You giggle, "This is ridiculous. You would be completely disappointed in the teenage me but probably tell your friends I sucked you off. "

He cups your face in his hands, "What asshole made you think that? I never did anything so vile. I was happy with whatever I got. And if a cute girl," He stroked your hair smiling. "never as cute as you as far as I remember, decided she did want a mouth full of more than a hotdog, I never said anything. And I would have defended her honor if anyone started saying shit."

You smile, "Where were you when..."

Bill kisses you strong. You were interrupted by Valter clearing his throat and the counter person giggling.

"I thought you said 'No making out'?" Valter chuckled.

Bill turned with his arms crossed, "I think you are mistaken Brother. grown adults would not do such a thing in public."

Valter smirks, "Yeah, alright. I was mistaken. We just want to play the video game on this side you 'adults'. "

Bill pulls you out of the corner on your skate, "I think you have more skating instructions for me after I get my skates back on, Princess."

"Yes, I do," You said matter-of-factly. "Have fun you two." You wave bye to Valter and his new friend as Bill pulls you along on your skates. As soon as you are far enough his brother won't hear you tell him, "If Kolbjorn still is not using the roller walker I think you should try with that."

"Alright, I'll try one more time." Bill sat to put his skates back on. "But I might never do this again."

"If you can't skate by the end of the evening you won't ever have to try again." You grab the roller walker. "I promise."

When Bill puts his weight on the walker the pcv gives a little. It makes him stand straighter to try not to put his weight on it as much.

"Just slowly roll your skates in and out." You suggest. "Don't pick up your feet. Just glide."

The tall lanky Skarsgard looks gigantic using the small walker. But within an hour he is holding your hand. His other arm out to the side for balance. You turn to skate backwards holding both his hands eventually.

"See you got this, Bill," You encourage.

He smiles goofily. "Not that bad, I guess. Can we play in the balance house now."

"Sure, I think you have earned that." You pull him to the bounce house in the middle of the floor.

Both of you sit on the floor to take your skates off before going in to bounce around, laughing like a couple of kids while everyone else is skating. You do this until the party is over. You let Bill walk in his socks off the floor instead of putting skates back on. Over all fun was had by all. And Bill learned to skate, at least slowly

#fanfic #fan fiction #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard #au #bill and princess #skating #roller skating #memory lane #smut #fluff #gustaf skarsgard #alex skarsgard #valter skarsgård

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-7th Place

>Insert long exaggerated sigh here<

It’s here that I really, really, REALLY hope nobody that I know personally is reading these.

(Also, sorry that this was a day late)

#7-My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic (2010-2019)

The Plot: In the land of Equestria, a unicorn named Twilight Sparkle moves to a happy little town called Ponyville to learn about the magic of friendship. There, she meets her best friends Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie. Together they’ll do what most friends do. Which is to sing songs, defeat creatures who seek to destroy everything, and learn that friendship truly is magic.

Now, I know what you might be thinking. Hell, I knew what you were thinking before I even explained the plot: “Isn’t this just a show for little girls that twenty-year-old losers fell in love with? How is this in the top 10?!” Now I’ll be the first to admit, there was a time when I didn’t get it either. When I heard that a fanbase grew around a My Little Pony reboot, I thought people were losing their minds. But, on one fateful day in 2014, my curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to watch ONE episode that seemed interesting to me. Unfortunately, it was the first episode in season two, and I had no idea what was going on within the first few minutes. So then I decided to watch the entirety of season one and then ONLY watch that episode in season two. And the episode after that because apparently, it was a two-parter. And then I watched the next episode after THAT because it also seemed interesting to me, plus the episode after that, for no reason other than I just wanted to. And then I watched all the rest of the series until the season four finale. And the two spin-off movies called Equestria Girls and Equestria Girls: Rainbow Rocks. Soon, I found myself reading fan-fiction, writing fan-fiction, looking at fanart, and even reading these spin-off comics that aren’t even canon, but I just couldn’t leave this magical world because it TOOK ALMOST A WHOLE YEAR FOR THE FIFTH SEASON TO PREMIER! ALL BECAUSE I JUST WANTED TO WATCH AN EPISODE WHERE A CHAOS CREATURE MENTALLY BROKE OUR MANE CHARACTERS! AND YES! I DID WRITE MANE INSTEAD OF MAIN BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT THIS SHOW DOES TO YOU! IT MAKES YOU SO ACCUSTOMED TO THE WRITING AND LINGO, THAT’S WITHIN BOTH THE SHOW AND IT’S INSANE FANDOM, THAT YOU’LL END UP CATCHING YOURSELF FROM SAYING MANEHATTAN INSTEAD OF MANHATTAN!

>SCREAMS WITH INSANITY<

…

So as you can tell, this show is surprisingly good once you get infested.

The biggest hook it has is the animation. While it doesn’t beat The Amazing World of Gumball’s quality, it is pretty impressive when considering that it’s all done in flash animation. Most flash animated cartoons tend to look cheap and slow, and Friendship is Magic is thankfully one of the rare exceptions. The movements are insanely smooth, and the facial expressions are pretty comical to look at. Even in the background of scenes, viewers will notice a lot of little jokes the animators put in. Seriously, the biggest reason why I kept watching the series for so long was that it was nice to look at (which is the case for most people, from what I’ve heard). And the best part? The animation somehow gets better with each passing season. And only 0.1% of the time does it show it’s cheapness, which isn’t that big of a deal considering there are two hundred and thirty-two episodes with a twenty-two-minute runtime. That’s nearly five thousand, one hundred, and four hours of animation that’s good for 99.9% of the time. While you could argue that it’s not the best, it is still pretty good animation quality.

Another thing that drew me in was the comedy. Keep in mind, this doesn’t mean Friendship is Magic is the funniest show on the list (that also goes to Gumball). Humor is subjective, and just because I found myself laughing with this series, that doesn’t mean everyone will be on the same page. That being said, I was surprised by the fact that I found the show funny in the first place. It’s hard to pinpoint what type of humor the show relies on (for me, at least). For some cases, Friendship is Magic has dialogue-based jokes that use smart or random lines to get a laugh out of audiences. Other times it's visual humor that requires slapstick or comical facial expressions that will make people laugh. But while its comedy falls between two different spectrums, that doesn’t change the fact that I find myself losing it every once in a while. Even during some of the worst episodes of Friendship is Magic, there’s at least one line or gag that got me to chuckle at least once.

However, both the animation and the comedy cannot top the main selling point of this series: The characters. Friendship is Magic might just have one of the biggest cast of characters out of any show on this list. Most of them manage to be funny, relatable, and are downright likable to watch. What’s even more astonishing is how well this show handles character growth. To be fair, there can be certain characters whose development is slow, but for the most part, everybody grows significantly with each new lesson they’ve learned. There are even moments when the characters say something along the lines of “I’m no longer that pony I used to be anymore because I finally learned how to change.” However, this doesn’t mean that every pony in the show is worth the time. There are a few unlikeable characters, but they’re either meant to be unlikable, forgotten after an episode’s end, or are redeemed after a triumphant return.

This is good because it’s the characters that make the stories in the show work. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is split into two different storytelling genres: Slice of life comedy and adventure fantasy. And unlike Steven Universe, it’s Friendship is Magic that mixes both these genres together perfectly. I’m not joking when I say that an episode where Twilight rekindles an old friendship can be just as intriguing as an episode where Twilight fights this soul-sucking centaur made to look like the devil. Hell, some fans even argue that the slice of life episodes are even better than the adventurous episodes. Because while the adventure episodes are cool and action-packed, it’s the slice of life episodes where the characters are allowed to grow the most and are actually given time to be themselves. As for the grand adventures, while their fun to see, the cast is forced to stick to their central personality traits to move the plot forward.

Unfortunately, as fun as this show can be, I can’t wholeheartedly recommend it. Not because there are elements that I think are bad, but because there are elements that might turn people away from watching. And the most significant repulse this show has is also the most important hook.

Yes, the characters in this show are great, but there’s also a lot of them. Some might even say too many. By season nine alone, there are a total of twenty-seven different characters that have the possibility of taking/sharing the spotlight in an episode. And that’s not even counting important figures, recurring antagonists, supporting characters, and even recognizable background ponies (yes, that’s a thing). Because if you want to add those to the mix, you’ve got yourself a total of one hundred and twenty-seven characters (give or take). That is one hundred and twenty-seven different names, faces, and personalities to try to keep track of. Luckily the personalities are easy enough to remember, and it’s mostly the most (in)famous figures that make a return. Even for some of the obscure characters, the show is kind enough to give a brief recap so the audience can get caught up. However, this is reasonably a lot to take in for a casual viewer. Case in point, in season eight, the show decided to add six new characters to the main cast, and it only took me a season and a half to learn their names correctly. It’s even worse since these “new” characters can sometimes feel like carbon copies of the Mane Six (Yes, that’s how the main six characters in the show are referred to as. Deal with it).

And the excessive amount of unnecessary characters are just one issue to deal with. The lessons that the show teaches are another. Before I say anything, I want to clarify that this show has fantastic lessons it teaches kids. In fact, there are even great lessons that are perfect for adults and only adults (know your audience, I guess). However, here’s the thing about morals: Not everyone will share the same view on what’s good and bad to teach children. Every person on this planet has their own life experiences, and with those experiences come different ideas of how the world works. One person can believe that a lesson is good, where others view it as awful and potentially dangerous. Things get especially bad when specific morals are misinterpreted or taken too literally. The best example is the episode “Do Princesses Dream of Magic Sheep.” I believe that there are two possible lessons within the episode. One is that to truly be forgiven, a person must seek forgiveness from themselves and others. The other conceivable moral is that the cure for self-destruction is to get over it and move on without any professional help whatsoever. Now, take a wild guess on which lesson gets talked about more. And in all honesty, I blame poor/rushed writing that causes specific morals to be muddled, as well as a person’s own life experience in whether or not you find an episode’s lesson to be intriguing or insulting.

Another thing that depends on one’s own personality is (kinda spoilers ahead) how this show handles reformations. I may have commented on how Steven Universe uses redemption poorly, but it’s even worse in Friendship is Magic. This show seems to have the idea that the transition from bad to good is as simple as flipping a light switch. Now, on the one hand, this is not something I should be mad about. The show’s title is Friendship is Magic. So, of course, the series would push that making friends will lead to peace and prosperity. Where making enemies will lead to war and violence. The problem is that from a storytelling standpoint, it isn’t that entertaining. Or, at the very least, not as much as it should be. The art of a good reformation is taking the time for the transition to be believable. Characters suddenly deciding to become good seemingly out of nowhere will do nothing but have audiences rip their hair out of frustration. It doesn’t help that most of the villain’s reasoning and backstories are pretty pathetic when they actually should be sympathetic. However, while the reformation itself can be frustrating, I personally think some characters are made more intriguing post redemption. Don’t get me wrong, these villains were great as they were, being the perfect mix of both funny and terrifying. But when the show actually allows characters to grow and deserve the hand-er-hoof of friendship, they begin to have more fascinating personalities to dissect. Now, not everyone is going to feel this way. And if you genuinely believe these villains were better as villains, I can absolutely see why. But for me, I’ve come to enjoy how far these ex-cons have come from their more evil days.

But none of this compares to the final controversial element that this show has to offer, where there is a fifty/fifty chance that you’re either going to love it or hate it. I, of course, am talking about...the songs. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic has four different types of songs. Depending on the episode, these musical numbers have many purposes. They can move the story forward, only work within the episode’s context, try to one-up Disney, and reveal everything you need to know about a character. Now here’s the thing about the music: I don’t hate it. I’ll admit that the lyrics are pretty lackluster most of the time, but at least most of them sound pleasing to my ears. But I have heard how some people seem to hate these little numbers, and I’m willing to put money on that fans even skip them. Everybody has their own tastes in music, and there’s nothing I can do to convince them otherwise. Only respect their opinions and hope they do the same to mine.

In the end, your enjoyment of this series, once again, depends on who you are. Some of you might think this is a dumb kid's show that should only be viewed by children. Some of you will understand that this show has great characters, comedy, and animation, but you just don’t think it’s for you. And some of you might be like me. A person overwhelmed with curiosity over the weirdest phenomenon in the last eleven years and ended up being pleasantly surprised with how magical the show turned out to be.

(And just a heads up, you don’t have to watch the Equestria Girls spin off series or movies in order to enjoy Friendship is Magic. EG isn’t technically canon, and the only noteworthy thing that makes it worthwhile is Sunset Shimmer. And while I personally don’t hate it, I completely understand how others will. But you do need to see My Little Pony: The Movie (2017), though. It surprisingly plays a big part in season 8 and beyond.)

#top 20 of 2010s #my little pony friendship is magic #what i thought about

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 4 years

Text

To Live For, To Die For (Bucky X Reader)

This is the second one I picked for Sea’s 2k milestone XD Gotta say...not nearly as sweet to write this one as it was the other. But I hope you guys like it!

Song: Somebody to Die For

Sequel is up: “Just Like This”

@geosaurusrrex - official congrats on hitting 2k man XD

P.S. There is a reason your last name is “Potts”.

I could drag you from the ocean I could pull you from the fire And when you’re standing in the shadows I could open up the sky And I could give you my devotion Until the end of time And you will never be forgotten With me by your side

The two of them fit.

It was odd, like nothing any of the Avengers had ever seen before. Bucky had spent so much time living to kill, he forgot what it was like - what it meant to simply live. Then he met her. The mutant friend of T’Challa’s wife, Orroro. Shuri told him bits of her history, but refused anymore, forcing him to ask the young woman himself.

“Hey Sarge,” this new woman teased, beaming smile and amused gleam forcing a rose blush on his cheeks.

“Call me Bucky.”

He remembered the way she looked at him, as if seeing through every hardship he’d ever endured and then some. She tilted her head, an emotion he couldn’t place mixing with that clear amusement. Rather than arguing, Y/N merely nodded. “Okay, if that’s what you want,” she smiled. “Bucky.”

The woman had brought him back from the edge in a way Steve couldn’t. Steve kept pressuring him, asking for the friend he once had. No, the words never actually left his lips. Steve wasn’t that kind of guy. But she never expected James Buchanan Barnes or the Winter Soldier. She merely asked for Bucky. All the woman asked for was the ability to understand. And in being so simple, so innocent and kind, she managed to do something no one else could.

Y/N Potts taught him to live for something.

And now they had spent every waking moment together, tending to his goats, helping him with his memories. She was still an enigma to him, something he felt he would never fully understand. But that was okay. He could wait for her.

And I don’t need this life I just need...

Y/N hadn’t expected Bucky to weasel her way into her heart. He wasn’t supposed to. She had only meant to visit Orroro, to update her on the mutants back home, and be done with it. Then she’d be going to New York to visit her sister and that weird genius she continued to date. But there was something about the man that she couldn’t get out of her head. T’Challa said it was normal, that Bucky had that reputation back in the day. Shuri immediately shut him up, reminding him that Bucky was a different person. He wasn’t James Barnes or the Winter Soldier anymore.

And it left her wondering - who was left in their wake?

He was so kind and gentle. Quiet and withdrawn, as if he deserved to live a life in misery. Y/N had never fallen for someone so good. He didn’t see it. All he saw was the blood on his hands. Even so, she saw past it and to the man within. It wasn’t someone for him to become, no, that standard wasn’t something she could hold him to.

But she could help him find who he was - the man past the guilt and regret and shame.

Back home, Y/N was a teacher. She taught mutants of all ages and had a family to love and care for within those youthful faces that had been cast out. She knew what it was like to live for something, for someone.

It wasn’t until Bucky that she learned what it was like to have that person. The "somebody” that Logan had warned her about all those years ago.

Somebody to die for.

I’ve got nothing left to live for Got no reason yet to die But when I’m standing in the gallows I’ll be staring at the sky Because no matter where they take me Death I will survive And I will never be forgotten With you by my side

“You’re my person.”

Bucky looked down at her, raising an eyebrow. The clear confusion was evident in those bright baby blues of his, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain the meaning behind her words. When he realized she wouldn’t explain, he stroked her forehead, where skin met hair, and whispered, “What does that mean?”

She smiled, squeezing his hand before placing a gentle kiss against his knuckles. No, she didn’t need to tell him. Not yet. “You’ll figure it out, Buck.”

“Wait, why won’t you --”

The sound of footsteps outside caught both their attention. They shared a look before Y/N lifted her head off Bucky’s lap. No one bothered him out here. It was almost an unspoken rule that his only visitors be Y/N and Shuri.

So what was going on?

Bucky stood, keeping Y/N behind him as they walked out of the hut. Outside stood King T’Challa, Queen Orroro, and Princess Shuri. So many royals, so many guards, and a case that neither had seen before. Still, they didn’t need to know its contents. Bucky knew. He always knew.

Walking forward, he kept Y/N close. She calmed him in a way no one else could. As he approached, T’Challa opened the case and revealed a brand new vibranium arm.

Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. Instead, she placed a calming hand on his back, lighting tracing the old scars through the course fabric. She didn’t need to look at Bucky to know what he wanted to ask.

“Where’s the fight?” His rough voice held back fear and a bitterness Y/N hadn’t heard before. She hadn’t seen Bucky as a soldier, but she was scared. What would become of her Bucky if he went back to that life?

“On its way,” T’Challa explained before looking to Y/N. “We’ll need both of you.”

She looked up, meeting his gaze. “I don’t answer to you, T’Challa.”

“Y/N. Please.” Y/N shifted her gaze to Orroro. The woman that had helped her when she had first sought help from the X-men. She owed the weather witch everything.

And knowing that, she nodded.

“Is Steve Rogers on his way,” Y/N asked, knowing Bucky would want to see his old friend.

Orroro nodded. “Him and more of his team.”

Y/N didn’t see the way Bucky looked at her. She didn’t see the pain in his eyes or the fear he hid behind a clenched jaw and tense shoulders. No, instead Bucky hid those feelings away as she turned to look at him. She couldn’t see him worry about losing her.

He was her person. Whatever that meant, he had to be strong. For her.

Cause I don’t need this life I just need...

Bucky had never seen Y/N’s powers in action. He’d heard stories, sure, seen her scars like she’d seen his, but this was different.

She was beautiful. She fought like it was a work of art.

Y/N had the power to manipulate water. She could turn it into a solid, liquid, or gas and manipulate its purpose even further.

How had he never seen this before?

Y/N used the water to lift her in the air, keeping close to the river that ran through Wakanda. She froze it, sliding around as if she were creating her own roller coaster. Slicing the water through the air, she decapitated aliens left and right as Bucky ran others down with bullets. Their abilities weren’t suitable for working alongside. One stray bullet, one alien falling at the wrong angle, and she’d fall into the mess.

But still.

She was something else.

However, both stopped and shared a look when they heard Bruce over the comms. “Guys! Guys, Vision needs backup now!”

Bucky opened his mouth to say he was on the way, but Y/N beat him to it. “I’m on it.”

She took off on the ice, knowing she was best to go. She heard the water in the background. Wherever Bruce and Vision were - a waterfall was nearby. Y/N could at least buy them some time until Steve or Wanda got there.

Somebody to die for Somebody to cry for When I’m lonely

The trees were difficult to maneuver around on ice. Y/N knew she needed to save what water she had access to if she was going to get to the falls. She dropped to the ground, ducking and weaving around the massive trunks until she heard the familiar sound of crunching metal.

She screeched to a stop as saw the scene taking place just over the ledge. Bruce was struggling against one of Thanos’s henchmen, a bigger brute. “Bruce?” she called before hearing a cry from behind her.

Y/N spun fast, the water from the falls moving in front of her and catching the weapon in a squishy sort of a shield. She looked up, eyes wide as she came face to face with another one of the aliens. It was tall and slim, scales covering its body with long pointed ears that reached high towards the sky. A massive tail flicked behind its back. Which alien was this? Y/N didn’t care. She didn’t need to know.

“You’ll die,” the alien promised, its voice a low hiss. If it weren’t for the promise, she would have believed the voice was almost soothing.

“Not right now,” Y/N muttered, flipping the blade with a jerk of the water. The alien spun in the air, landing with a thud. Immediately they jumped up, growling at her and sweeping the large weapon low to the ground.

The two circled each other, studying the opposite for weaknesses, for a break. “I saw your little human with the metal arm,” it hissed, tilting its head as Y/N’s shoulders tensed. She flexed her fingers, the water around her spinning faster. “His head is cloudy. Lost, isn’t he?” The alien cackled as Y/N clenched her jaw. “I’ll make him my pet, share the memory of your death with him over and over until his mind is nothing but sludge.”

Y/N knew there were some aliens with abilities similar to mutants. But telepathy? “Let’s not make this personal.”

“Death always is.” The alien grinned, fanged teeth forming a perfect row that sent a shudder down Y/N’s spine.

Y/N refused to let this...thing get the better of her. It leapt in the air, raising its weapon as if ready to strike before Y/N could move.

But Y/N? She was a mutant.

She was an X-man.

She knew how to fight.

With a flick of her wrist, the water lashed forward. It froze in midair, just in time for the ice pick to pierce through the alien’s temple. Y/N sidestepped, looking away as the alien fell to the ground and slid past her. She always hated the sight of death. Grimacing, Y/N walked away from the body and searched through the trees for any sign of Vision.

“Vis!”

The sound of Wanda’s blood curdling cry made Y/N stop dead in her tracks. The sound was heart wrenching. It made Y/N feel more sick than any number of dead bodies or any amount of food. She had to get to Wanda. She took off, running as fast as her legs could carry her.

Leaping over a massive root, Y/N landed in a crouch and her eyes widened when she saw Vision’s body on the ground. Thanos was here.

When I’m standing in the fire I will look him in the eye And I will let the devil know that I was brave enough to die And there’s no hell that he can show me That’s deeper than my pride Cause I will never be forgotten Forever I’ll fight

Y/N heard voices behind her. She turned and saw Steve face to face with Thanos. Her stomach clenched. Bucky couldn’t lose Steve. He couldn’t.

Steve grunted, teeth clenched as he tried to keep Thanos from snapping his fingers. Thanos grimaced, looking at the soldier as if he was nothing more than an insect. Pushing down, he amused himself with Steve’s struggle. This Captain America...so small. So...

Weak.

Thanos threw his arm with a force stronger than his best henchman. He sent Steve flying through trees and landing with a loud thud. Y/N stepped forward, the snap of a branch signaling her arrival to Thanos. Everyone had one goal.

Don’t let him snap his fingers.

She swept her arms, the water she had constantly running around her now rushing forward and freezing around his hand. He kept clenching his fist, flexing around the ice and cracking it. Layer after layer of frozen water appeared. Y/N repeated the process over and over, circling Thanos as he eyed her. He was studying her, she knew it. He was waiting till she ran out.

However, the sight of the clouds rolling reminded her of one particular weather witch on her side. Slowly, rain started pouring from the sky. She used the droplets to form needles. Thanos rolled his eyes. The needles were merely an annoyance.

“Enough of this.”

Thanos clenched his fist, shattering the ice once more. He went to snap his fingers, stopped when a fist of ice hit his palm. He clenched the gauntlet around the fist, eyes slowly traveling down the arm to the mutant before him. There was fear in her eyes, he could see it. But with that, a resilience, a determination similar to that he’d seen in Gamora.

The titan had studied many faces of the Avengers. He learned of them, wanted understand their strengths and weaknesses. She was not an Avenger.

Who was she?

He clenched his fist ever so slightly, letting the ice crack, but not shatter. This was a game.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N Potts.”

He cracked. She saw past that passive facade and saw genuine surprise in those piercing eyes. He’d heard of her.

“A mutant.”

“Clearly.”

“The sister of Tony Stark’s redemption.”

Thanos raised her fist, lifting her in the air. She had yet to see him kill anyone other than Vision. With Vision there was a purpose, a reason. Thanos only killed when there was a reason.

She’d get back to Bucky.

And I don’t need this life I just need Somebody to die for Somebody to cry for I just need...

“Humans. You always think you know best. That you’re better than a universe you have yet to even comprehend.”

Thanos shattered the fist, his hand clenching around her much smaller one. She cried out as she felt her bones shatter underneath his strength. Flipping her free hand, the rain formed into rushing water. A spear found its way to her hand up to her elbow, ready to swipe at his head. Thanos smirked, grabbing her upper arm and twisting to the point where it was just about to break.

“Ungh -” She clenched her jaw, seeing Steve stand out of her peripheral. She glanced his way only for a moment, the faintest smile curling her lips. Steve wasn’t dead. Bucky would be happy.

“Y/N.” Steve muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t hear it.

“Do you kill for the hell of it?” Y/N’s voice came out trembling, tears from the pain slipping down her cheeks. “Step on anything that crosses your path?” She needed to reason with him, to remind Thanos that he didn’t kill for the hell of it.

She had to try to live for Bucky.

“No, I don’t kill for the hell of it,” Thanos answered. Swinging her feet, she pressed them against his chest in an attempt to get away. He jerked her arm, the twist causing a shriek to tear from her throat. Her feet slipped. Y/N hung in the air as if she were nothing more than a rag doll. “I only kill the weak.”

Y/N moved to say more, but the words died on her lips when she saw a familiar face running up behind Steve. More tears streamed down her cheeks when she saw those piercing blue eyes, that brow furrowed in confusion.

Bucky.

“Y/N.” He said her name. She knew he did, but his voice was so low, she didn’t hear it. She saw his mouth move, saw his lips form her name, and her heart sped up. Her stomach erupted in butterflies.

Even with Thanos ready to kill her, she still had butterflies.

Steve held Bucky back. At the moment, Y/N was distracting Thanos. She was alive and keeping him from snapping his fingers. It was buying Thor time. Any sort of distraction and Thanos could and would kill her. Her injuries could be fixed. She could heal. “Buck,” he whispered, voice cracking as he stared at his friend. “Buck, she’s going to be okay. She’s going to live, I promise.” But Bucky wasn’t looking at Steve.

He was looking at Y/N.

“Please,” he whispered, voice cracking.

“Is that him?” Y/N looked back to Thanos, brow furrowing in confusion. Her nose was runny from crying, her eyes red and puffy. She was in more pain than she had ever been. Normally the fights with the X-men went in her favor. It seemed the Avengers didn’t have their luck.

“What?” she asked, voice trembling.

Thanos watched, pity in his eyes. “The man you’d live for. Your redemption.”

“No. No, I wouldn’t live for him.”

Thanos furrowed his brow, confused.

“But he’s the man I’d die for.”

Thanos nodded, allowing himself to respect that. “I won’t kill you.”

Y/N smirked. “Thanks, but I can’t promise the same to you.”

Ice picks formed at her toes and she kicked up. Her foot connected with the underside of his arm, the one that held the gauntlet. He grunted as she twisted her body. The ice pick tore away from her foot, remaining lodged inside his arm. Thanos dropped her and she landed on her shattered arm. Bone piercing through her skin, she felt something tear through her side.

The smell of blood made her want to throw up.

And I don’t need this life I just need... Somebody to die for Somebody to cry for When I’m lonely

Steve and Bucky took off. Thanos had been playing with Y/N, enjoying someone trying so hard. Now he had all the Infinity Stones. It wasn’t a game. Bucky started shooting at Thanos as a distraction for Steve. He slid in, grabbing Thanos’s hand and keeping his fingers pried apart. He shook, body trembling once again as he used his strength against the titan. While Y/N could distract him with words, with fascinating powers and tear filled eyes, they didn’t have that luxury.

Bucky’s mind wasn’t on Thanos or the people. It was on Y/N. He slid to her side. The arm Thanos had twisted, cracked. The bone had pierced the flesh and dug into her ribcage. He wasn’t sure what was pierced, but judging by her pale complexion, her barely open eyes, Bucky felt his heart clench and contort with an onslaught of fear.

“Y-Y/N,” he whispered, brushing her hair back. “Y/N, stay with me. S-Stay, you gotta stay with me, doll.”

“Bucky -” Steve grunted, forcing himself to stand and push Thanos back. He only got two steps in.

“No,” Bucky growled, his voice low and rough. Thanos said he wouldn’t kill her. He said that, he practically promised it. So why - He cupped her clammy cheek in his flesh hand, stroking her temple. “Y/N, can you hear me?”

She seemed to be looked just past him, her eyes searching for something. Y/N’s lips murmured his name, so low he couldn’t even hear it. She was searching for him. “Y/N,” he whispered, lip quivering as a tear slipped down his cheek. It disappeared in his bear. “Y/N, I’m here. I’m right here.”

Bucky didn’t hear the fight going on behind him. He didn’t hear Thor’s lightning crackling through the sky. All he could hear, all he could see, was her.

“Y/N, please,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. His tears slipped from his cheeks, falling onto hers. Her breathing was shallow, faint. “Please, we can get Shuri. Come on, doll. You can do this. She - She can...Please, Y/N. Don’t leave me.”

Faintly, he heard Thor’s voice say, “I told you...you’d die for that.”

Bucky ignored whatever was going on behind him. Instead, he listened to her breathing. His hand slipped around her back and he cradled her against his chest, soft sobs making his shoulders tremble. “Please,” he whispered, “You’re my person.”

“What did you do!?” Thor’s angered shout broke through Bucky’s pain. He looked down at Y/N, her breathing still...so shallow, so close to something he couldn’t bring her back from. “I’ll be back. I’m going to find Shuri,” he promised, standing up. He looked back, his gaze landing on Thor and Thanos through the tree line. Bucky clenched his jaw, searching through the trees.

He didn’t have time.

“Shuri!” His voice was loud, booming as he tried to find the brilliant princess. She could save Y/N. No matter how many bones were broken or how much blood was lost. Shuri could help her. “Shuri!”

But then he felt...off.

He looked down at his fingers, watching them blow away and turn to dust.

“Bucky?”

Bucky looked up, his gaze landing on Steve. But Y/N. She - “Steve?”

He stepped forward, collapsing to his knees as Steve ran towards him. He watched his oldest friend swoop in and try to catch, but it was too late.

They were too late.

Don’t go gentle into that good night Rage on against the dying light

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