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soulmate-game · 3 years

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New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

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For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

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Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

#maribat #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic dickinette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat fic #platonic brucinette #older sister Marinette

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i-am-ironic · 4 years

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So I'm dead then. Interesting.

Sorry this took so long to get out a lot of stuff has been happening and I've been super busy. Anyway i saw this idea a LONG time ago and it just seemed perfect for daminette.

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As Damian opened his eyes he looked around. This room was not familiar. He was not at the manner then, so where was he? The room was far too pink for his tastes, and was that a dress in the corner? No this definitely wasn't the manner.

"Marinette!! Get up you are going to be late for the first day of school!!"

Damian jumped, wiping his head around. Next to him was a girl who was just starting to wake up. She had black hair that fell just around her shoulders. She sat up in bed and stretched. wait a minute, WHY WAS HE IN THE SAME BED AS HER???!!!! This was bad this was very bad!!! He was only 13!!! what happened!!

Damian tried to push himself away from her only to fall through the rail on the side of her bed. The girl, Marinette, didn't seem to notice him she simply climbed down the ladder and, grabbing some clothes, headed to the bathroom. He could hear the shower turn on so he decided to look around.

She had a sewing machine on a desk with a sckech book open next to it. The sckech book held elegant dresses and tuxedos with embroidery so perfectly placed you would have to wonder if it was part of the fabric.

There were pictures on the wall of the girl's friends, one boy seemed to take up most of the space, perhaps her boyfriend? Damian also found a skylight that appeared to open onto a balcony.

When Marinette reappeared she was wearing a nice outfit, still drying her hair off from the shower.

Damian decided now was as good a time as any to ask her what the heck he was doing here, "Excuse me miss," no response, "I was wondering where I am and who you are." Still nothing, "im trying to talk to you!" Damien said reaching out his hand to grab her by the shoulder. His hand passed right through her. He stared at the girl who was still packing her backpack, and then at his hand which was becoming more solid every second he wasn't touching her.

He grabbed his own hand and could feel the scars on it from the league. But when he tried to touch Marinette again his hand passed through her, this time she shivered a bit. Odd he could touch himself but not her, could he touch other things? He reached out to the wall, his hand rested on it until he pushed more and he began to slip through the wall. Very interesting.

As Marinette walked down the stairs to the voice that had called her before Damian followed testing things as her went. Marinette sat down to eat breakfast with who he asumed to be her parents before rushing off to her first day of school.

As Damian followed her throughout the day he discovered several things: he didn't have legs anymore. Where his legs had once been was now replaced with a flowy tail (like the genie in Alddin). He also couldn't be seen or heard by anyone, he had tried to speak but nothing happened. And to top it all off he was in France!! He probably should have figured that out by all the people speaking French but it hit him when marinette had gone to the Eiffel tower after school. Well not exactly marinette, ladybug had gone to the Eiffel tower when fighting a monster called stone heart.

After Stone Heart was defeated marinette went back home and detransformed, Damian hadn't seen her receive the earrings so seeing a giant floating ladybug was strange, but to be fair he was flying right now too.

"Oh marinette that was great! I knew you would make the perfect Ladybug!" Said the.... thing.

"Thank you Tikki!" Oh so that was the things name.

"It was your first day and......" Tikki paused, "oh marinette im so sorry, I didn't know."

"Whats wrong Tikki? What didn't you know?"

"your soulmate...... he's here." As if that explains everything! How was that supposed to help him.

"What do you mean my soulmate is here?" Marinette asked.

"If your soulmate dies before you meet them then they come to watch over you, most humans have soulmates they just don't know about it until its too late...... I can sense yours. I'm so sorry marinette."

so he was dead, that made a lot of sense actually. The last thing he remembered was fighting his clone and then darkness. He should be angry he knew that, but he really didn't care. He liked this girl, he felt safer with her in one day then he did with his father after a whole month. Still he wanted to try to tell his family he was alright..... ok maybe he wasn't alright but he was happy.

Marinette's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "What happened to him?"

Tikki closed her eyes trying to concentrate, "im not sure, he died bravely, in battle. Other then that i don't know."

Well she was correct, he did die in battle with his clone. He wondered what had happened in that battle after his death. Had his family succeeded in defeating his mother, or were they all dead too now? He had no answer but what he did know was that he should try to find them.

That night he began flying away in the direction he believed America was, he reached the sea faster then he had expected. One advantage about being dead was that he didn't get tired, he just kept flying.

Then suddenly he was back in marinette's room as she stretched on her bed. Sunlight was streaming through the skylight. Every time he tried to leave he reappeared at the exact time Marinette woke up every day. The day repeated much the same as the day before, one of the girl's in marinette's class called her names and didn't get in trouble, a monster was beaten by Ladybug and her partner Chat Noir, and he floated around.

Eventually he discovered he could leave massages for marinette on her phone, in the steam on her mirror, or if she left a notebook out overnight. He left small things like, "don't forget about you math test!" Or "Alya said you could go to her house for cookies after school" or "talk to chat noir before he becomes a problem." You know important stuff.

Damian discovered he had grown quite fond of his 'Soulmate' as Tikki had called her. She would talk to him sometimes, about school, ladybug stuff, everything. He would answer back when he could with a note or send a sign, she always seemed to understand.

One day after hearing Marinette talk about how hard it would be to find HawkMoth Damian decided to do something about it. That night he Searched evry house on the east side of Paris. When marinette woke up he was at her side.

He wasn't sure how long he looked, every day was spent with marinette and every night trying to find her enemy. He really wasn't sure how long he had been dead, it felt like he had always been like this, but at the same time like everything was brand new.

After what must have been weeks of searching he found Hawkmoth. The man was nun other then Gabriel Agreste. As damian raced back to marinette's house he got the familier feeling of being pulled away from his spot to Marinette.

Except he wasn't at Marinette's house, he wasn't even in Paris, he was in the batcave looking up at his father.

"Damien! It worked!" Cried Batman still holding his disoriented son.

Damien had no idea what was going on, one minute he was going to tell marinette who her worst enemy was and now he was half way across the world and appeared to be alive, again.

"Father? What am I doing here? Where is marinette?"

Bruce frowned at his son, "Who's marinette?"

Just as Damian was going to answer a loud crash came from behind them. He just got back and already had to fight someone. Great. The fight didn't take long once Damian discovered he had super powers given to him by the same crystal that brought him back to life.

After his family explained how they had brought him back using magic and that his grandfather was also alive again, he had his own explanation to give.

"Everything is all fuzzy."

"Thats alright Damian, you have been dead for months." Tim said.

"But i wasn't really dead," everyone glanced around confused as Damian continued, "I woke up in Paris, and she was waking up and I didn't know what to do, she is a Hero. She knew I was there. She knew I was dead. She is my soulmate."

"Damien are you okay?" Bruce said, this wasn't like Damien at all, he should be mad he let himself die not concerned for someone who didn't exist.

"I have to get to Paris! I HAVE TO TELL HER ABOUT HAWKMOTH! She has... to....know........" the end of his sentence drifted off as Dick pulled the needle out of Damian's arm.

"When he gets up, we will have to tell him that he was hallucinating, we don't need him running off to France to find someone who doesn't exist."

Soon the memorys of Marinette and his time being dead grew distant. He was unaware of the confusion he had caused in Paris.

Tikki could always feel marinette's soulmate as he traveled around Paris. Until he vanished. She immediately got Marinette out to the bathroom to talk.

"Marinette he's gone."

"Who is gone, Tikki?" Marinette asked.

Tikki frowned trying to feel him, "your soulmate he isn't here. I can't sense him anymore."

"There must be a reasonable explanation, maybe he just went out of Paris?"

"No, he isn't anywhere it's almost like he isn't dead anymore."

"But that's not possible, right?" Marinette asked almost hopefully.

"I've seen it before, but don't get your hopes up."

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This isn't the best but I did my best. The ending definitely needs some work. I'm still learning to write so this is the best I could do, I think I'm going to do a list of ideas and have people request whichever one they want. If you like that idea let me know.

Tagging:

@ivymala07

@iloveitwhen

@chocoleteicecreamlover

@crystalangelluna

@clumsy-owl-4178

@pawsitivelymiraculous

#batfam #damian wayne #damien #maridami #marinette cheng #marinette x damian #miraculous marinette #maribat #marinette x damian happy #daminette #daminette oneshot

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bisexualklausmikaelson · 3 years

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and all the magic we made (12/20)

a/n: well i had another mental breakdown :/ so here's another sporadic update for you all :) thanks for sticking through with this story!

Rebekah runs around, from store to store, touching and feeling every item of clothing that catches her eye.

Sparkles, sequins, furs, silks -

Kol quickly realizes how grave of a mistake this shopping trip with his sister has suddenly become.

The length of his stay in his hometown still remain indefinite - last night was a surprise, seeing his niece and not to mention his brother’s infamous Hayley Marshall was certainly something he wasn’t expecting.

If anything, their interactions serve as inspiration for his next move.

Hence the dress shopping, of course.

“So tell me, brother,” Rebekah hums, fingers grasping at a white dress, holding it against her body as she stares at herself in the mirror. “Why are we here anyway? Are we shopping for a special someone? A girl, perhaps?” She stammers on.

“Bekah,” Kol chides. “Such curiosity will bite you in the arse,” he remarks, snatching the dress away from her and placing it back on the shopping rack.

She rolls her eyes, sighing as she follows him down towards the aisle of more colourful textures and fabrics. “Oh c’mon,” she breathes. “You know how starved I am for some hot gossip.”

He doesn’t answer her until she grabs his sleeve and starts whining.

Tell meeeee!!

“Fine-” Kol huffs, shrugging her hand away.

Then suddenly, the perfect dress catches his attention.

It’s a gorgeous purple gown with a mermaid tail flair at the bottom, the sleeves are adorned with pink pearls and with dark lace details.

“It is for a girl,” he confirms, grabbing a hold of the garment. “I like her, I wanna show her how much she means to me, there, satisfied?” He holds the dress up to show it to his sister.

Rebekah smiles, admiring the beauty of the outfit. “Very much,” she nods.

After that, he takes her through even more stores - a purse, jewelry and shoes is a must for a girl so special.

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing a matching set of pearl earrings and a necklace. “Now it’s your turn,” he comments. “You and Marcel, is this thing happening again?”

She takes her time, taking a deep breath before proceeding to offer him an answer. “I don’t know,” Rebekah tells him. “I care for him, deeply, I always have. I’m just not sure he feels the same for me.”

The look on his sister’s face brings him no joy - he’s used to teasing her about her crushes, even embarrassing her about them. But, this time, Kol feels sorry for her, she loved so honestly and so carelessly.

It filled him with both admiration and pity.

“So, you’re looking for closure?” He wonders.

She raises a brow, thinking of his words carefully. “I am not sure,” Rebekah admits. “Maybe,” she whispers softly.

Kol doesn’t say anything else for a bit - he picks out a pair of heels, a small clutch to complete the outfit. His sister approves of his every choice, it comes so easily to him, almost as if he didn’t need her guidance anymore.

“If you ask me,” he finally says. “I always thought you deserved much better than a man who is too afraid to love you.”

His sentence hits deeper than she can ever imagine.

She finds herself asking when exactly did her troublesome little brother decide to become all grown up.

Hayley’s weekends are often spent alone with her daughter.

Normally, other girls her age are busy studying for college exams, hitting up a club or party, going on dates -

Being with Hope Marshall beats all of that, she thinks.

Even when she wants to hang out with Klaus Mikaelson.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He smiles widely as he’s at the door - reaching over to pick up his daughter.

“Yep!” Hope cheers.

Now, her weekends are spent with him. Sandalwood scented cologne, old books in the backseat, a picture of his siblings hanging from the rear view mirror of his car -

“So this gallery,” Hayley says, sitting beside him as he begins to drive them towards their destination. Hope is all settled in her car seat, distracted by her toys. “Is this the type of date the old Klaus would take me out on?” Hayley adds on.

Klaus offers her a confused look. “Old Klaus? A date?” He asks.

She doesn’t offer him much - she simply presses her lips together until they become a thin white line. “C’mon,” she shrugs. “Don’t beat around the bush. Old Klaus did that a lot, I wanna know what this new Klaus is like.”

He hasn’t heard this allegory from her before - he supposes that it’s how she’s rationalizing their whole relationship.

You see, in Hayley’s head, there are two Klaus’.

Old Klaus was aloof, a rule-breaker, the type to get high with her on her couch, to cut class on the school rooftop, to leave without a kiss goodbye in the morning.

And then, there’s new Klaus. New Klaus is…different. He’s more determined, more direct about what he wants.

He’s kind - kinder than she last remembers him.

“Well,” at last, he stops the car, arriving at the gallery. “New Klaus likes to keep you on your toes,” he smirks, leading Hope and Hayley inside the paintings section.

“Ah,” she hums, looking around the large room. “So not much has changed,” she realizes, looking back and seeing the strangest smile on his face.

They both follow Hope into another inter-connected room where only one single portrait is hung up on the wall.

It’s a forest of wolves, tall trees, greenery - and a young Hayley Marshall sitting amongst them.

She stares at it awe, Hope freaks out, screaming and jumping up and down.

Mommy! It’s you! You’re in the painting!!

“New Klaus still likes to surprise you,” he reveals, allowing her to take it all in.

By the time Kol finishes his shopping, it’s basically evening.

Rebekah had gone home for a rest while he still continued his way down the street.

The trip there is quiet - his head is filled with thoughts, how he’s gunna see the girl of his dreams again, how she’s probably just eagerly waiting for him.

So eager in fact, that she opens the door for him before he can even knock on it.

“You,” Davina releases, with her hair in a messy bun, bunny pyjamas and slippers still on. “Came back,” she completes.

“That I did, darling,” Kol tells her, smiling. “Just as I had promised you, all those years ago,” he offers.

Davina thought she’d be more upset at him.

Their relationship had been a strange one - meeting per chance at the local occult club, unexpected encounters at the music store, catching each other reading Edgar Allan Poe by the marina -

They started dating soon after, and connected on every single level.

For the longest time, their relationship felt like fate.

Until, that is, Kol Mikaelson, along with all the other Mikaelsons, mysteriously left town.

(Although, granted, he did still keep contact with his lover, unlike the rest of his siblings, who were so far deep in self-hatred that they denied themselves of this).

“What do you have there?” Davina asks, noticing the large shopping bag in Kol’s hands.

He pulls out the gorgeous gown he had gotten. “It’s for you,” he informs her. “A present, if you will,” Kol specifies.

She admires the shimmering fabric, in awe of the very romance of this gesture. “It’s beautiful,” Davina releases. “Thank you,” she smiles, grabbing a hold of the garment.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he says, as fireworks go up in the sky.

They spell out the words

Will you have this dance with me?

The painting itself displays incredible technique - the composition, the brushstrokes, everything is so crisp and clear. Klaus’s talent has always been undeniable but, Hayley’s opinion of it has been…

“What do you think?”

A mystery.

“I’m guessing,” she starts, once she realizes exactly what she’s looking at. “This was made by old Klaus?” She presumes, looking at the date inscribed at the corner of the painting.

She stares at herself, immersed in the perfect image he had created of her.

“So it seems,” Klaus says. “However, new Klaus is the one who is brave enough to put it up in a gallery,” he informs her, taking a step closer so that he is right next to her.

Hayley looks and looks - passed the greenery of the scene, the tracks of dirt he had carefully painted on her arms and legs, big brown eyes burning a stare into her own.

“I always knew your work would go far,” she finally releases, realizing how carefully he had captured her loneliness in this painting.

And almost immediately, Klaus begins to laugh uncontrollably. “You said it was hideous,” he recalls, shaking his head.

She wonders why he made her look so sad in this piece - as if she had lost everything. And maybe, that’s how he saw it all, his betrayal and departure was written all over her face.

It’s the most honest thing she’s ever seen.

“Except this one,” she notes. “This piece is…”

“Nothing,” he intercepts, bravely placing a hand on her shoulder, catching her off guard. “Nothing, compared to the real thing.”

The drive home is quiet.

Hope is fast asleep in the backseat, little snores and soft breaths escaping her lips. Hayley looks back with a caring and loving gaze. Her daughter truly is an angel, she thinks.

“So then,” he whispers. “This new Klaus, is he up to your standards, as of yet?”

She pauses, catching his eye from the corner of hers. “Maybe,” Hayley remarks. “He certainly became a better driver, over the passed years,” she smiles.

He doesn’t push her any further, he knows he can get more out of her if he did but, this smile of hers was enough for now. He can deal with it - he can deal with her taking her time.

“Well, you’re home now,” he tells her, pulling over by her apartment complex.

She reaches over to shake Hope awake, she refuses though, still deep in slumber. “Looks like it,” Hayley shrugs, pulling away from her daughter. She strangely feels safer now, having the chance to speak more intimately with Klaus. “What do you think new Klaus would do if I tried to ask him to come upstairs?”

He thought that this moment would never come and, that, if it ever did - he would be in disbelief.

But oddly enough, Klaus isn’t in shock at all.

This is expected - he is, after all, charming as hell.

“I think he’d say,” he starts, and right then, he notices little Hope in the rear view mirror, opening one eye to sneak a peek. “You’ve got a restless little girl still listening in on our conversation,” he smirks.

Hayley turns to catch her daughter spying on them and pretending to go back sleep. “Hope,” she scolds. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” she sighs, finally exiting the car and taking her daughter into her arms.

Well, no use acting now, Hope thinks.

“Goodnight, little one,” Klaus tells her, ruffling her hair. “And you too, Hayley,” he lets her know, before he begins to drive off.

She watches him disappear into the night - her heart feels heavy and sinking as she notices how much she longs to see him again.

But, she is a mother first, and as much as the old Hayley would leave all her responsibilities behind and run after that speeding car - she’s not that girl anymore. The new Hayley takes her daughter, and all her old love and passion, and she walks back up to their room.

Of course, right before she enters her home, she notices a carefully placed envelope on her door.

It reads the words - Invitation for Hayley and Hope Marshall.

#klayley #kolvina #hope mikaelson #klope #the originals #the vampire diaries #to #klaus mikaelson #munea writes

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shadowturtlesstuff · 3 years

Text

Dress part 2

so this is dress from Audrey rose’s perspective. i loved writing this. i finished it a few weeks back and its been slowly edited. i am working on other things, but i can feel my brain slolwy stop working, and i’m failing miserably.

This party is dreadful. Beautiful, but dreadful. The only things that are interesting to me is looking at the gowns being worn and the intricate details I discovered when observing them. And Thomas. But I refuse to acknowledge the latter and fix my gaze on a pale pink dress, little gems of dark pink lining the neckline flowed down the bottom of the dress. My own was of a pale green and blue, the top being blue and slowly turning green, with gems in little pockets so that if I were to dance, to spin, there would just be a flash of colour. It is a shame I will not be dancing tonight. Originally my dress was going to be a deep purple with white pearls around the neckline but I may have overheard Thomas talking to his carriage driver about his own outfit for tonight and may have decided against the purple.

My eyes move away from the gown and find Thomas who is conversing with an old man that I assume is his father. From the scowl on Thomas's face one can assume his father must be a pleasant conversationalist. Then Thomas's gaze slides away from his father and meets mine almost immediately, as if he was waiting for my eyes to find his, or that he could feel my gaze. A smirk replaces his scowl and I try to ignore the blush creeping onto my cheeks as I look away quickly; to find my cousin’s face fixed on mine, and eyebrows raised as she took in my expresion. She took her own gaze at Thomas, then winks at me and I scowl slightly. All night I had been stealing looks at Thomas, to try and notice all the details in his suit. He looked incredibly handsome in his midnight blue and black clothing, his hair brushed back and a permanent look of boredom and contemptment on his face. Apart from when he caught me looking. Then his lips quirked up in a smirk that I wanted to smack off.

It takes all my common sense to stay rooted in my seat and not walk over and ask Thomas to dance. Yet all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipating our next encounter was starting to weigh on my chest, hoarding control over my senses. It was infuriating. My mind was still convinced I did not ever need a husband, yet my mind also wondered about a life where Thomas was by my side. Every time I did the weight would increase slightly and I had no idea how to fix this. We were not even meant to be friends, uncle had warned me a few times when I had gone to investigate something on his behalf, that Thomas was trouble. Yet it always seemed he disliked Mr.Douglas more, and was miserable about the fact we did not have Thomas's particular skill sets on our side.

“It is most important for you young girls to attend not just tea parties, but parties.” Aunt Amilia was saying to us. Liza looked exceptional tonight, her dress was golden yellow with lilac accents. She had been very excited about tonight, about the prospects of romance and the fact she did not attend such things when trapped in the countryside; even though I hadn't been looking forward to tonight, her excitement was invigorating.

I let my aunt and cousin talk as I mess with the bottom of my glass. Attending tonight meant that there was another chance for our murderer to strike, another victim to add to his growing list. I shuddered at the thought of seeing another horrific scene; a woman cut open and dispatched as though she was worth nothing. Uncle and I had conducted post mortems on all the unfortunate women, they all seemed to have similar inflicting wounds yet they were worse each time. Uncle claims our murder is getting more confident as he is taunting the Scotland Yard. As much as I enjoy the magical atmosphere the ball produced; I couldn't help but think it a waste of time. There must be more we could do to find who our perpetrator was. Thomas and I had been discussing theories over the course of the last month whenever we found ourselves together, and even with our skills combined we were no closer than when we started. It certainly didn't help that we kept getting distracted. Thomas is an excellent flirt and seems to want to do just that all the time. It did not help that my mind kept drifting back to our kiss either. I had to keep convincing myself it was the adrenaline that caused me to kiss him, not the fact I had grown to like him very much.

I kept thinking about how his hands burnt my skin, electrifying me and it made me drunk on his touch. I kept wondering what would happen to me if we were to kiss again and if I would be able to control myself. To not drown in his touch.

I caught another glance of him, but his eyes were already upon mine. I looked away just as Mr.Douglas appeared at his side. I slid my eyes back to him as he begrudgingly spoke to his boss. Thomas scowled at something he said.

“Audrey Rose, would you like another glass of champagne brought to you?” Liza asks, capturing my attention away from Thomas. I had only had one and it couldn't hurt to nurse another tonight. So I nodded and watched Aunt Amila gesture to the waiters to bring a glass for me as well as some food for Liza. My glass is replaced and I try to ignore the growing boredom I have.

“May I borrow your daughter for a dance, sir?” The smooth voice of Mr. Thomas Cresswell appears to my left. Slowly I look at him, trying to hide my confusion. And longing. I would very much like to dance with Thomas. I would like to know how it feels to dance with him, whether he can dance. Yet we were not meant to be friends, surely Uncle will notice the fact we are, and perhaps scold me for it. My father looks over at him, surly registering who he is, who his father is and the title he holds. He gives a tight smile. Father is still slowly recovering from his opium addiction. Aunt Amilia arrived so she can keep an eye on him and it makes me happier to see him be less tired. Yet it does cause problems if I need to visit my Uncle. Nathaniel narrows his eyes at Thomas, surly bemused at why his apparent robotic friend would want to dance with me. However he gives a more genuine smile than my father does. Then Uncle scowls. I would much rather face the killer's knife than be in Thomas's position right now. I look towards where Liza is trying stilfe her giggles and can't help but smile too.

“Cert-” My father begins, but does not get far before my Uncle cuts in. Of course he would. Normally he would not care. I am still shocked my Aunt managed to convince him to leave his laboratory for this.

“No.”

“What do you mean no? She's my daughter I suggest you-”

“No. Mr. Cresswell, what are you doing? You do not wish to seek out my niece for the case do you? If so, leave now.” I see Thomas wince slightly, but smile before quickly looking at me and answering:

“No sir, I can see why you'd think that but I truly wish to dance. Your daughter is captivating.” His smooth words wash over me, the honesty in his tone fills my bones, making me more light headed than the champagne ever could.

“I shall dance with you Mr. Cresswell.” I interject before anyone else can speak on my behalf. Thomas is the only one I had wanted to dance with. I make my way to the dance floor, giddy with excitement. My hands shake slightly from the need to hold him.

“I'm glad you saved me. I've been dreadfully bored.” I tell him as he places his hands on my waist, my own finding his shoulder. I forget how tall he is sometimes. I would have to go on my tiptoes if I were to kiss him and he would need to bend to find my lips. He laughs at my words and everything about him relaxes slightly as we begin to dance. Each step is filled with confidence. Of course he'd be perfect at dancing.

“I'll always be the one to save you Wadsworth. I am your Dark Prince. Be sure to think about me and my heroic nature whenever you're alone.” Once again I ignore the blush making my cheeks it’s home and focus on his smirk. His ridiculously arrogant smirk.

“Please; I have more important things to consider than you.”

“You look beautiful, Audrey Rose.The dress is magnificent, compliments you perfectly,” he must be making the connection to his own outfit and contemplating the implications behind it; “although completely unnecessary, I'm sure you are perfectly capable of rendering me speechless without a dress on at all.” Or not. The fiend just wanted to shamelessly flirt with me. To make my skin turn hot and cold all at once while I consider his implications. His eyes hold promise and he no longer wears his impenetrable mask with force. It makes him look younger, more like the man I have grown to know and not the cruel beast society believes him to be.

“You claim I render you speechless yet you still speak? Are you lying or just horribly bad at compliments? Or, you hate the dress but need to charm me nonetheless?” Despite his vaulnrability I must not allow him to have the upper hand in this conversation or I shall never live it down.

“Wadsworth, darling, please; do you really think that little of me? I'm merely stating the obvious, it's what I do best. And I don't need to charm you when you are already infatuated with me. If I were you I would be. And as much as you truly render me speechless with your brilliant mind, I adore your body too, an added bonus, but I will always be able to tell you how astonishing you look.” He looks ready to kiss me, and I know if he did I would let him. It would be quite the scandal but I do not care at this point. We flirt, tease and taunt each other endlessly but it pains me that we do not get to do it as often as we wish. That I do not get to learn each side of Thomas, like this charming man who holds me tightly, as though if he let go of me I'd disappear. I feel as though I might if he did. I search for any lie, anything but the same pain I must be showing on my face. Instead of a kiss, unfortunately, he pinches my sides lightly, as if conveying his words to me. I pinch him back and we smile, content in our own little world.

“It is a good job you are not me then isn't it?” My voice is barely above a whisper and we both know my words hold little bite. People were fools to think Thomas was anything other than lovable. He may be in pain most of the time but that was a part of his charm.

He clears his throat, attempting to control himself, “I've enjoyed the game tonight, our secret moments in this crowded room no one knows about. Each little glance at me gives my heart a rush. Makes it worth being at this blastidly boring event. I've missed you.”

‘I’ve missed you.’

The three words repeat over and over in mind. We spoke this week yet in my bones I understand what he means. We haven't truly discussed our kiss; or our feelings. We are both too wrapped up in our individual fears. Yet even with the confession we dance in comfortable silence.

“When does this get easier?” My voice is quiet for a completely different reason than before. Our eyes meet and I find myself captivated by him, the fact my best friend is not perceived as my friend. A secret that neither of us ever wanted to keep. “I want to stay with you all night, but after this we must return to our lives, I go back to being judged for my curiosity and you will go back to the animatronic villain the world thinks you are. When does it get easier Thomas?”

He contemplates for a moment, his eyes flashing all sorts of emotion before turning to that calculated gaze that feels somehow more intimate than before. If he has an idea on how to make this all better then I have no intention of stopping him.

“Wadsworth, how much does your Uncle hate me?”

“He doesn't hate you, at least I don’t think he does. He- he isn't a person who gives positive opinions on anyone. Even me. But no, I do not think he hates you, just Mr. Douglas. Oh but he doesn't like that you are working against us. For him no less.'' I have believed for some time my Uncle would like Thomas to work with us and attend his school. He never technically speaks ill of him, but of who he works for. I’m half convinced Uncle is upset Thomas did not go to him first.

“It's not ideal, I despise him, he doesn't care about the cases, but of the fame; it makes me near vomit whenever he speaks about the women- or any woman for that matter.” Uncle had said the same thing a few times to me.

“Audrey Rose, if I were to quit would your uncle offer me an apprenticeship?”

“I think so but why?”

“There are more benefits in working with your Uncle than that egotistical man. The main one being right in front of me.'' I gasp slightly and stop for a second. Once again Thomas has left me speechless at how vulnerable he is for me, at how his words caress me and hold such promises that make us both slightly afraid. There was so much wrongness in the world, so much that confused me and left me stranded. Perhaps that is why I relish science so much, in finding out facts from the deceased because they could never lie to me, never hold my brain in such misery that I feel ill. Maybe the familiar feeling of carving open a body meant that it was the only sure thing I knew. That was before Thomas.

Now I know two things for sure. For the most part. Thomas would always baffle me but in the most delightful ways.

Finally I mustered the courage to speak. “You could talk to my uncle tonight, I'm sure he'd much rather discuss the case or anything remotely close to work rather than listening to my Aunt.”

“Would you want me to work alongside you Wadsworth because if not I can-” he would always allow me a choice, but he would always doubt himself too. So I snapped my head up from where I was staring at his chest. His eyes flash as he misunderstands my movements.

“Do not finish that sentence Thomas. Of course I want you to work with me and my Uncle.”

“My brilliance is desperately needed isn't it? I mean you cannot resist my charm.” He adds a wink, lightning the tone and making me roll my eyes in the process.

“No, I'm merely the one saving you from that- that man before he rots the only decent part of your brain.” Half truth, half a lie. I relish in our easy banter.

“If you are the one saving me, will you be like the heroes in the books, because I do recall that they always give their saved maidans a kiss once they are saved?” I blush again at his words, but more so the memory of his lips on mine.

We had been investigating when two ruffians attacked, so we fled to safety in an alleyway. With one look we were both upon each other, clinging desperately as our lips met, the feeling of being lost in him, the feeling of his hair beneath my gloves. Of the sweetest kiss he added after we broke apart. Even after then Thomas had doubted his actions slightly and apologized but in that moment I didn't care about anything but him. I'd seen a new side to him that night, one I wished to witness again.

We were coming to the end of our second dance, any more would be considered improper. Thomas seemed to stumble onto that fact too as his grip tightened ever so slightly. Just enough for me to notice. I doubt even his impressive deduction skills noticed his own movement as he was too fixated on my face. It made me smile slightly. Even as I knew I'd have to break apart and return to my table. To Liza's knowing smile and teases, to the males scowling and whatever my Aunt thought.

Slowly I let go of him, the music coming back into my head, as though I had stopped paying attention to it. We walk back to my table and I take my seat, hand going onto my glass as I calm my heart. Thomas stands there awkwardly by the empty chair, so I kick it slightly with a smile playing at my lips. He scowled but sat down. I tried desperately to ignore my cousin, I knew she watched me dance and would inform me of her opinions on it and on Thomas.

Everyone at the table is silent, watching and waiting. My father orders a glass of champagne for Thomas, which indicates either he likes Thomas or the title he holds. I watch as Thomas messes with the rim of the glass. My friend has never been exactly good at social interactions and becomes restless faster than a toddler. Uncle is glaring at Thomas so my father elbows him and it seems so unlike them I smile. They are no longer close due to my mother’s death, but perhaps my Aunt can change that for the better, at least a little bit whilst she is here.

“So Mr. Cresswell, my son has been telling me a bit about you, what is it you do again?”

I've not spoken to Nathaniel about Thomas. In fact I haven't spoken to him in quite a number of days. I make a mental note to fix that.

“I'm a scientist sir.” My fathers face drops, either having that information made true or knowing Nathaniel had missed it out deliberately.

“Surely a man of your title would pursue something other than that?”

“Science isn't about titles sir, it's just the pursuit of knowledge. You must want to know how things work, how things are made. I enjoy learning about the body, the world and how it works.” My father narrows his eyes at him. He used to enjoy that sentiment before my mother died. He loved making things. It was his form of science. Perhaps if mother had not died he would be more open to my love of science. I'm filled with silence that floods my head until Thomas taps the table slightly. My attention turns to his warm smile, one that tells me everything I need.

I am not morally corrupt for liking science. I return the smile, a silent thank you.

Silence falls on our table and I find Liza watching me and Thomas with something like wonder on her face. When she notices me she smiles, then raises her eyebrows up and down and we both nearly snort with laughter. But we control ourselves as Uncle takes a seat next to Thomas. His gaze makes Thomas bounce his knee in the annoying way he does when he is nervous.

“Would it be okay for me to attend your school sir?” Thomas askes suddenly

“Yes, on one condition; you must stop working for Mr. Douglas.”

Neither of us were surprised by the condition, although I am miserable that Thomas was accepted so quickly. I had to beg my Uncle to let me join and I've only ever been once. His stipulation for me was to remain quiet. Quite a task when the ‘men’ partaking in his lesson squirmed more than I did.

“Of course.”

After a few minutes Thomas returns to his table and my Uncle stays in the seat he's in, instead of going back to the seat beside my father. My father returns to his conversation with Nathaniel, Liza and Aunt Amelia being talking again. I look to uncle in hopes he will talk to me, but he is looking at his plate of food miserably. So I sit alone silently.

“Mr. Wadsworth? May I join you this fine evening?” The voice of Mr. Blackburn pierces my thoughts. He takes the seat that was my Uncles and smiles brightly at me. “It is lovely to see you, Miss. Wadsworth. You look beautiful.”

I force a smile as my mind wanders to the words Thomas uttered to me earlier. They felt real. It leaped at me and held me tightly. Blackburns’ felt much like my smile. Forced. Polite. I had no idea what he was doing here. If he wanted to talk about the case I'm sure he'd drag Uncle somewhere.

“Thank you.” I say, turning to look at Liza and begging her to help me out. But Aunt Amelia cuts in instead.

“She looks delightful doesn't she? You must dance together.”

I try to hide my wince but it clearly doesnt work as Liza smirks at me.

“Before you do that there is something we must discuss Audrey Rose,” Blackburn states, his tone makes me squirm in my seat like a child, Uncle looks up from his food finally and they look at each other carefully, “We need you both tomorrow at the station, the Ripper has sent another letter.”

So Uncle was right when he spoke about the killer's confidence another letter surely meant he was ready to strike again. I must speak to Thomas, get him to be at the station with us, he will likely notice things we would normally miss.

“Certainly.” Was all Uncle responded with. Especially since we both noticed my father’s glare at us all.

“Both? Both? When I told you to court my daughter I didn't expect you to let her see such horrors. You were to stop her madness not help it prevail.” He snaps at Blackburn. Anger rose as I understood what my father was saying. He had graciously allowed Blackburn to court me, to marry me, without even mentioning it once to me. I was clearly too much to handle and must be doused before I dare have a life of my own choosing.

“You have been secretly courting me?” I snapped at him, rising from my seat. “Father, why on earth would you allow this? I have a right to know, to choose for myself.”

“Audrey Rose, sit down and be quiet, you're making a scene.” My Aunt snaps back. Of course, our reputation is in such jeopardy if I stand up for myself.

How had I missed Blackburns’ advances, my fathers scheme? What else were they hiding from me? My father was enraged with me, Blackburn had the guts to look sorry for me. It was utterly ridiculous. I hated him, hated my father, hated society. Myself. I'd missed it because I had convinced myself he was a friend. I was so desperate I had ignored my intuition. I was pathetic.

Instead of sitting down I pushed my chair far back and began walking out of the ballroom. I needed air. Needed control. Needed Thomas. A thought I refused to linger.

The cold air bit at my skin, seeped inside me as I walked to the edge of the garden. The darkness comforted me as tears freely slipped down my face. I was a fool. I didn't want to marry Blackburn. I wasn't sure I wanted to ever marry. I just wanted to be a scientist. I wanted-

“Miss. Wadsworth, is everything okay?” Thomas appears behind me and I find it so utterly cruel that he gets to see me so vulnerable. Not an hour ago had we danced, had we been happy and now I was apparently being courted so I spun around and let out a joyless laugh.

“Perfect, Mr. Cresswell. I am a woman in this absurd society so I must not dare think about anything remotely masculine. I must not be able to pick who I love but have my father arrange it without informing me.” I spit at the words at him, knowing he was not to blame but knowing he was the only one willing to listen to me.

“Audrey Ro-”

“Blackburn. He chose Blackburn. He was never nice to me to be my friend, but because of him and my fathers scheming. If he hadn't been he would not have been this nice to me. I know I am not exactly the nicest person and that my interests disgust society but it was nice to have a friend.” I whisper the last part as though I voice how pathetic I am.

“Am I not your friend Audrey Rose?” His voice is an attempt at a joke, I think, but it is also tinged with pain. I consider Thomas my best friend, and it hurts me he thinks otherwise.

“You are but you're different, you; I don't need to try with you Thomas. I have to try with everyone but you.” He dares a step towards our eyes finally meeting. We needn't say a thing for us to understand each other.

“Wadsworth, I find it easy with you too. More than I even understand. This world is cruel and I wish more than anything to make it better for you, for it to be better in general. I- my father long ago gave up trying to marry me off, deeming me worthless and unable to love, and I still cannot figure out which is worse.” This was another side of Thomas he was showing me, to tell me that we may not fit into society but it doesn't matter too much. The fact will always hurt us slightly but we learn to live with it. Eventually.

He takes my gloved hands and rubs small circles over my palm sending shivers over my body. “You are worth more to society than they realise, so please keep fighting for your freedom. I will forever remain your friend if that is what you wish to happen, to help you figure this world out.” His confession replaces the darkness clinging to me. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be a wife, but Thomas always made me doubt that. He would always give me my freedom because he understood how important it was to me. I tighten my grip and he catches his breath as I take another step closer.

“Thomas,” My voice is somewhat breathless, my own breathing failing me, “you are not unlovable, your father is a fool. An utter fool. I want you by my side always, I fear I couldn't do this without you.” I go closer, impossibly so, “What if, what if it was more than friends though?” I may have overstepped with my question, we were in such uncertain territory to what we felt and I wished I could take back the words. What if Thomas wanted nothing more than friendship? The kiss we had could have just been adrenaline for him. His flirts may be out of boredom or something else I couldn't understand.

“I- I’m sorry.” I stutter when he doesn't respond to me. I take a step back, ready to return to the line placed between us. Where I would forever remain it seems.

That is until his hand tightened on mine and brought me back forward. My face widens in shock.

“Wadsworth I'd like that too.”

There is a second of silence as it sinks in. “You would?”

“More than anything. I care deeply about you. I shall court you like a proper gentleman if that is what you wish.” We return to standing apart and I can't help but snort at his insane statement.

“You are anything but a gentleman Cresswell.” I smile brightly as we both laugh. “It may be my favourite thing about you.” He flashes me a devilish smile.

“I am fully aware, love, that you love the scandalousness of my words. Would you like to go back inside or return home, I am sure I can get us a carriage to share.”

“Us? Thomas you do not live with me.”

“Yet,” he adds. I roll my eyes at his dramatic nature despite picturing how lovely it would be to live with him. “It would be ungentlemanly to let you return home alone; and purly scandalous to be in close quarters with you.'' Once again I ignore his words and begin to walk to where the carriages await. I couldn't care less if father got mad at me for going home. I knew I had to be lectured anyway.

“Very well, you may escort me home. From a distance.” I emphasise this to make sure he understands. He merely laughs at me.

When I make nearly a quarter of the distance and do not find Thomas with me I spin around and find him watching me with a weird expression on his face. He is captivating as he stares at me, his eyes full of wonder. His perfect hair has fallen in his face slightly, disheveling him slightly. My brows burrow in confusion at what could make him look like this, but I relish the look he gives me anyway. He really is a dark prince; standing tall in his dashing suit. He blinks when he releases I've stopped then begins to follow me.

“Are you alright?” I ask as he falls into step with me.

“Yes of course, I get to leave with the most dazzling woman at the party.”

We link arms, pay for a carriage and start to head towards my home. We sit across from each other, but the carriage is small and Thomas obnoxiously spreads his legs out so they brush against me and it takes all my willpower not to just place my hand on his knee, slowly stand then lean over him and kiss him. He nudges me and I raise my gaze, he tells me something but I've no clue what.

I blink and feel the heat of my blush form on my face. Which Thomas notices and smirks wickedly at me whilst raising his eyebrows in amusement.

“Wadsworth?” He asks and I hum a response and try to snap out of my indecent thoughts.

“Cresswell?” I attempt words, not sure that I can manage more than his name.

“My kiss? I am still waiting for it.”

When did I promise him a kiss? Not that I do not want to kiss him. He leans closer, knee hitting mine. I feel the heat of him envelop my senses even as I remember our dance and the words he teased me with. For a moment I see him doubt and so I lean in to make sure he doesn't regret being in here with me, regret asking to kiss me.

His lips are soft as they meet mine. I feel his hand rest on my knee as I deepen the kiss. My night has been abysmal and I do not think I would have made it if Thomas was here. I adore the feeling of his lips on me and find my hands wandering on his knees. This is so vastly different from the first kiss and it makes me wonder if our kisses will always be different. Thomas pulls back, resting his head on my forehead and searches my face. I am a complete mess as he looks me over and he smiles at the result of our kiss. He presses a lingering kiss then sits back. I return to being pressed against the back of the carriage as we regain our composure. But I feel his legs still against mine so I brush my own against him and his warm smile against his flushed face made my heart nearly burst.

“I should save you from boring events more often if it means kissing you like that.” The words hold the same promise as the kiss and I smile brightly at him. I didn't think I wanted a husband but perhaps being with Thomas my feelings would change. Even in my worst time Thomas would stand by me, and I'd stand by him. We would make mistakes, argue; but I felt the truth sink in that we would always see the truth in each other. He was my one and only lifeline and I do not think I could ever truly explain the feelings as they raced around in my body faster than I could comprehend.

@fangirling-again @goatahoan @city-of-fae @the-hoofflepooff @purplecreatorhorsewagon @kittycat2187 @padfoot-sirius-black @boredbookwormgirl @goddess-of-writing @lovecakeandmore @loveyatopluto @yikesitsmaddie

#sjtr #hpd #efh #ctd #cressworth #cresswell #thomas cresswell #audrey rose wadsworth #stalking jack the ripper #hunting prince dracula #escaping from houdini #capturing the devil #thomas and audrey rose

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not-from-the-absence-of-violence · 3 years

Text

I exist as I am

it is yet again @jonnitweek time :D

Day 4 - identity / fluff

Jonnit and their relationship with gender.

Jonnit sat at a table, breakfast among the crew these days was somewhat tense with their new status and the captain's death looming over their shoulders.

Dref didn’t like eating around other people so he had gone and locked himself in his own office to eat, Travis was sitting in front of him, he looked generally annoyed at the world while he ate his breakfast.

Gable arrived a few moments later, having gotten no food for themself as they usually stole from Travis, who always grabbed way too much.

“Hello Jonnit,” they said cheerfully, Jonnit smiled back, then they said “Travis.” who gave them a bleary glare.

They sat down next to him and in practiced familiarity went to grab Travis' mug.

He swatted at their hand like an annoyed cat. “That’s heartroot,” he said pointedly. “Which if you want you are going to have to blend yourself I’m afraid.”

They don’t seem at all surprised by this, just seem annoyed that they will have to get their own drinks later.

Jonnit stares at him, he has heard of heartroot before of course, it’s one of those things that he is aware of but has never actually thought about.

“You drink heartroot?” Jonnit asks in genuine curiosity.

Travis smirks. “Sometimes,” he says, “staying the same for so long would just be dreadfully boring don’t you think?”

Gable shakes their head a little. “I feel like you aren’t explaining this right.”

“Well how would you put it then?”

They seem to pause for a second. “You humans and your gender,” they say, then stare at Jonnit, “I’ve certainly never gotten it.”

And Jonnit thought he did, right up until that point where he wasn’t sure actually. He hadn’t grown up particularly sheltered, there are however things that you just don’t question, corsairs were generally a lot more free, and glamorous, in their expression.

“Dref, how does heartroot work?” Jonnit said as he was sitting on a desk in his office as Dref worked methodically to clean some equipment.

“I-It’s not s-something I’m an ex- xpert in b-but,” they say, turning to look at Jonnit, there is a bright slightly nervous energy about the way he kicks his legs, “It’s d-definitely m- magic.”

Jonnit rolled his eyes without malice. “I get that.”

Dref can’t help but smile at him. “I h-have p-ersonally n-never t-taken it.”

“I think i get how it works, i meant more in a,” he said and vaguely waved his arms around, “how do you know you want it, I guess?”

Jonnit seems lost in his thoughts for a moment and Dref wishes he knew better how to verbalize his own feelings, he hasn’t taken heartroot no, this doesn’t mean they don’t understand the anxious curiosity practically radiating from Jonnit.

“N-not everyone who f-feels d-different t-takes heartroot,” they tried. “B-but some p-people feel their b-body doesn’t align w-with who they are.”

Jonnit hummed impatiently. “But how do you know.”

“Experimentation? Often t-there is m-more to ex-xploring g-gender.”

Jonnit seems content with that answer, a small smile on his face as he stares at the wall. “Sure okay.” he flashes a smile at Dref, “Thanks, man.”

“Any t-time.” Dref says and they lapse back into comfortable silence as Jonnit ponders and Dref works.

Celebrations are always big on the Uhuru, the sound of music and laughter filling the ship with an almost magical energy.

Jonnit likes parties, the general buzz of fun and movement letting the gentle worry of the life of a corsair fade into the background.

It’s night and Travis is lamenting about it, a coyote on Gable’s lap. Dref comes into the room, they are wearing a floor length skirt and a coat other than his doctor's coat for once.

Gable smiles at him. “Look who pulled out all the stops tonight.”

He blushes and stammers a bit, “T-thank you.”

Jonnit can’t help but stare at it, the fabric looking soft and glittery all the same. “I didn’t know you owned skirts.” he remarks.

“T-they are i-inconvenient for m-most of m-my work,” he says, a bit solemn.

Jonnit nods, a pirate's life was not made for pretty and frilly outfits. Travis grumbles something about being able to wear skirts when she’s human and Gable laughs at him, genly petting her head.

He can’t help but keep staring at Dref’s skirt as they run their fingers through the fabric.

“I p-probably have one f-for y-you,” Dref says suddenly, “if you w-would l-like?”

Jonnit’s eyes go wide and he smiles excitedly, “For real?” he says.

Dref nods.

“Cool! Thank you.” he says, getting up quickly and practically dragging Dref to the door.

Gable and Travis watch them leave as Jonnit bables excitedly, Dref looks at him with a soft smile.

“They grow up so fast.” Travis says mocking at Gable’s incredibly fond look.

“Oh sush,” they say, “you are one to talk.”

Jonnit stares at himself in the tall mirror of the captain's quarters, the skirt Dref has given him is a deep blue, with what looks like stars embroidered at the bottom of it. He likes the sensation of it when he spins, the fabric swishing and all the constellations moving with him.

He isn’t sure why he has never worn a skirt before, mostly because it has never been practical maybe, but now he feels warm and happy as he looks in the mirror.

“It s-suits you,” Dref says,

“Yeah!” Jonnit says with glee. “Now let’s go dance.”

He pulls Dref by his arm, who then almost stumbles but quickly follows behind Jonnit, into the mass of dancing skyjacks.

Everyone seems excited to see them, of course they are the heroes of the hour having not so long ago taken down The Civility.

Everyone on the crew is fond of Jonnit, he mingels easily in the crowd and people seem glad to teach him all types of dances he eagerly attempts.

Gable pops in and out, occasionally to Jonnit's delight swinging him around like he weighs nothing. Dref mostly stays at the outskirts, nodding at the pats on the back he gets from the rest of the crew, smiling at Jonnit’s exited demeanor.

"I should wear this more often." He says later, twirling to make the skirt turn with him.

"Y-you can k-keep it," Dref says firmly.

Jonnit looks at him like he has stars in his eyes. "Thank you," he says, and leans in for a hug slowly, so Dref can back out.

Dref melts into the quick hug, holding Jonnit for a second, hoping he gets everything they didn’t get to have.

After Buzra Nyth Jonnit still owns the skirt. Dref was right of course, it isn’t very convenient in most situations but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t wear it.

It surprisingly doesn’t feel terrible to wear it, it brings with it only soft memories of Dref, and a nice glow like feeling that Jonnit can’t help but smile at. It’s the comfort Dref would give him, were he still here.

There is something about being called “boy” that just doesn’t sit right with Jonnit. He’d imagined it was because of how childish it made him feel, but there is something weirdly specific about the twinge of discomfort that comes with it.

Gable and Travis are listening to him ramble about in, trying to pay attention at this late hour. It is, Jonnit imagines, a bit like a sleepover you would have were they a normal friend group.

Except Travis, who is a snake at the moment, is curled around Gable’s neck, and Gable is nodding along while they idly play with a gun.

“Is girl any better?” Gable tries.

Jonnit grimaces a bit. “It’s not...worse?”

“Let’s just call you child then.” Travis says.

Gable vaguely pushes part of him off their shoulder. “This is important.” they say annoyed. Jonnit can’t help but laugh at them both.

“What about young man?” Gable keeps trying.

“It isn’t bad, doesn’t feel...me?” he says, gesturing vaguely. It was all confusing and not easy to explain.

“Well people don’t need to use gendered anything.” Gable says matter of factly.

“Or everything.” Travis says, and she smiles Jonnit a snakey grin.

As the night goes on Jonnit has a small list written down; he finds he doesn’t mind “son”, but he does prefer “sibling”, he decidedly dislikes “boy” and “man” feels distant, “sir” and “madam” both have a certain status they are excited about achieving someday. It’s almost fun really, repeating small sentences in their brain, imagining scenarios, Travis and Gable both occasionally sleepily adding commentary.

He ends the list with a twice underlined bold. “Captain Kessler.” which leaves him smiling stupidly at the paper.

This is my friend, they are a corsair and their name is Jonnit. He writes down carefully.

“Hey would you guys mind using they pronouns for me occasionally,” they say at the end of the night, feeling a small and unreasonable anxiety in his chest.

Gable smiles excitedly. “Of course!”

Travis lifts her head from where it was buried in Gable's hair. “Welcome to the club, kid.”

Jonnit smiles. “Yeah,” they say, “yeah I guess so.”

Jonnit smiles at the scene before him, Margaret had forced them all into what she regarded as a well needed rest after Nordia. So here they were now, cooped up into Dref’s former office, laying on the floor as Margaret did their nails one by one.

It was an activity that required patience, and forced you to sit down and enjoy eachothers company. Occasionally Margaret and Travis took sips from their mugs of heartroot, Travis’ balanced precariously on the edge of a book shelf, Margaret’s safely at her side as she chided Gable for moving too much.

Jonnit clinked their bright freshly polished nails against his own mug, they were a deep blue to match with their skirt and made a soft lovely sound against the ceramic.

Jonnit had, almost shyly, approached Margaret about blending heartroot a while ago, and had been blown away by her level of enthusiasm and knowledge.

So there he was, shakingly holding the tea, which was ever so carefully picked to stop facial hair growth and to make their voice just a little higher. Margaret had gently reminded him that the mix could always be adjusted, people and feelings change after all. It still felt like a big step as he took a small sip, it was sweet and almost floral and warm.

He couldn’t quite contain his giggles, a happy haze falling over them. His three companions turn to him with equal fond looks.

Many things happened when Jonnit went back to Akaron, the feelings and slight unresolved tension from when they had left home still hanging around the air and certainly explanations were needed from his sister, who had apparently also left home.

Both Zana and his dad were delighted to see him, embracing them in a group hug so tight Jonnit almost felt he couldn’t breathe.

His nervousness falling away as they entered their childhood home and sat down to have the longest conversation he had had with anything in a while.

There was a lot to digest of course, with both Zana and him retelling their adventures, their destinies, their fears. Jonnit’s gender journey in the end was only one of the many many items in the long list of explanations that night.

Whatever edge of nervousness there was it was worth it for the gentle peace of understanding that washed over all of them having talked.

It was worth the giddiness he got when he overheard Zana talking to a friend of hers.

“Yeah me and my sibling are home for a bit,” she says, “Jonnit? You remember them right?”

It was worth for the hug his father gave them when they left, full of unspeakable emotion.

“I’ll always be here you know,” his father said, blinking back tears, “whatever you do, you always have home to come back to.”

Jonnit was tearing up too “Thanks dad.” he said and added, “You’ll always be welcome on my ship too.”

His dad gave him a wide smile, tears now falling from his eyes as he nudged them towards the Uhuru where Travis and Gable were waiting. “Now go get them, captain Kessler.”

“Captain?” his quartermaster said as they slowly entered their quarters, Jonnit nodded at them to speak “Ma’am the crew is awaiting orders. Shall I tell them to get to their battle stations?”

Captain Jonnit Kessler moved away from the window where he was looking at their next target, a red feather ship gilded in gold, one of the last ones in the sky. He couldn’t help but smile, they should be used to this by now but some things never quite stop being a small novelty.

“Yes,” they said, “and tell Gable to come up to my quarters, I would like to see them before the battle.”

The quartermaster nodded, the excitement of upcoming battle clearly in the air. “Yes ma’am.” they said, exaggerating the salute a little.

Jonnit smiled and shook his head. “Well get to it then.” they said, not quite being able to shake the amusement in his voice

“Yes sir!” they say, with a final grin as they leave the room.

And with that Capitain Kessler prepares themself for one of many battles to come, one of the crucial ones that one day make them the best pirate to ever live, the ones that help him one day rule the skies.

#skyjacks #jonnitweek2021 #campaign podcast #jonnit kessler #gable skyjacks #dref wormwood #travis matagot #margaret skyjacks

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creepyalienghost · 3 years

Text

Memories of the past

Joey stood from his seat in the corner and reached over for his Cain leaning on the wall. He took one more look at the party before hobbling down to his quite office, the noise from the music and them chatting fading away with the distance. He needed to be alone for a while, needed to be with him memories. He closed the door and walked to his chair, sitting down. There he quickly spotted the photo of him and his best pal, Henry stain.

Today Henry was retiring and Joey through this party to honor him. Everyone arrived when cards of best wishes and gives for the man. He deserved them. He was such a great and talented man with a good head on his shoulders. He helped shape up so many lives around as well as shape up their Business for the better. Joey wouldn’t be in this vary spot without him.

Joey’s fingers gripped the smooth frame and brought it closer to his face. He remembers this photo being taken by Henrys little sister when she came to visit. They have always been a close family, one of the many things Joey admires of Henry. Joey examined the photo. It was captured on the day Henry won the art competition. He was so happy that day. They both were. Henry had such an extraordinary talent for drawing. Even better then himself.

Why just a month prior to this was taken was when he and Henry first meet in college.

—-

For the first year in college Joey decided to take art, Business and English. Art is as the last class he had that day. A good way to relax his mind and have some fun. That day he was also late for it. When he got there, there was only one set left. Next to a brown headed guy with bright green eyes. He took that seat next to him and laid his supplies on the table. “What did I miss?” He ask. The brown headed guy glanced at him. “Nothing important, just missed him fighting a goat.”

That made Joey chuckle and Henry smiled at that. “I’m Henry by the way. Henry stain.” He held out his hand.

Joey shook his hand “I’m Joey. Joey drew.” He introduced himself.

The whole class that day was great! The professor spent the first hour with an art game to get to know someone there. Joey had learn that Henry had 2 sisters and a grew up in California. The second half was spent with working on there first project. Drawing of what they had learn from there partner.

After class, Henry had invited him to an art auction that night. Joey had never been to one before but had loved to go and excepted his offer. He had wear his best suit that night and when they arrived everything looked so professional. The men there had their suits and ty, the woman had there gorgeous dresses with there hair done. Everyone there was dressed their very best.

The tables were was covered in a fine golden table cloth, topping with little silver decorations in the middle of each like crystals. The servers who are task going around with drinks and food had on outfits to match the decorations. Joey thought it all looked so glorious. He wondered how Henry got into this? Later on Henry would tell Joey about his father, who was an art professor and who took his kids to things like this.

That night he had watched many people there racing to keep the art pieces they desire. Large Paintings that took so many hours of hard work, Hand crafted sculptures that were Beautifully design and many different items that so many wanted to get there hands on.

——

Joey sat back, getting more comfortable in his office chair as he remembered the first night he and Henry spent together. That was the vary start of there friendship. After that day they hung out together every day after there classes, exploring the city around them. They would often love to go to the art museums to learn about the paintings and the book stores to lates books! One of those days Henry had started there business idea.

———

It was a nice crisp autumn day! The wind ever so slightly blew around you, the sun hide behind the clouds and the temperature was just right. The perfect weather for Joey. Especially for the week of the art festival. There wear no classes that day do to the festival and of corse he and Henry went.

When they arrived there, there was the sound of music playing in the distance making joey wanting to dance. When they got though the gate Joey found face painting station near by. Susie Campbell, one of their friends, was one of them who painted and was transforming a little girl into a magical Princess.

As him and Henry walked together though the crowd tours the ride they came across a tent for a cartoon that was quite popular. Many children were gathered around trying to get pictures and autographs from there favorite characters. He and Henry stood watching the Excitement of it all.

That’s when Henry leaned in tours him as he continued watching. “We should make our own cartoon show.”

Henry was joking about it then, but he himself couldn’t stop thinking about it, even when they were months from graduating. Why boy make a cartoon show? They both loved the arts and were good at drawing. They needed writers, musicians, actors and a building though.

It wasn’t Intel the last month of college, Joey ask him about really making a cartoon studio. Henry wasn’t sure at first if they should try it but soon they came to an agreement. They would start a studio together in the next few months.

They both already knew some friends that would love to join there Studio. Joey ask Susie and she with some friends of hers agreed to join as an Voice actress. There was also his good friend Norman who’d work the projector. Henry found Sammy who promised him he could be the conductor and together they started to gather a band together. Dot, Wally, Alison and the others came along once they had the building sat and started hiring other people.

—————

Joey chuckled and sat down the picture frame. This place has grown hugely since then. So many more departments, so many more people. And with it relationships grow to. Alison and Tom happened for a few years before Alison left for Nathan and Tom stayed, Sammy and Norman has a happy and Heathy relationship still to this day, him and Susie Campbell had a thing for a while before they decided to just be friends. Henry though found love outside of the studio.

A beautiful woman name Linda. He had first meet her in an art store. He was buying more drawings books while she was buying more paint. She was a painter and damn good one at that. Her work was magnificent and sold for a great price! Joey once bought one for his mother.

They first became friends and bounded over the there passion for the arts along with other things like movies shows, and music. After around a year they officially became a couple and around five years later they finally announced they were getting married. Everyone was so excited for them to and Joey was honored when Henry ask him to be his best man there.

—-

The day of Henry’s weeding was here and Joey was of course with him helping. Henry finished buttoning up his under shirt and came over to Joey, who was waiting with his suit for him. “How do I look jojo?” He ask stretching his arms out for show.

“Almost complete!” He answered with a smile as Henry chuckled. He was so proud of his best friend for coming this far in life and knew Linda was a lucky girl to have a man like Henry.

Joey helped him into his suit on both arms then he smothered out the kinks and lumps before stepping back to get the whole picture. “What about now?” Henry ask again, only this this time spinning around for show.

Joey chuckled at him as he fixed Henry’s ty, making it nice and proper. “Now you look good!”

“All thanks to you Joey.” Henry gave him a huge grin and brought him into a hug.

Joey patted his back before they separated them a knock came from there dress room door. “Come, it’s time.”

Joey stood in his place a few feet away from Henry as they all wait for the bride. It was only a few minutes wait before the music started and everyone stood for the bride. She was stunning in that dress as she came down that ally, her father giving her away. They said their vows to each other and kisses to Seal the deal.

It wasn’t that long before Linda became pregnant with a little girl and Joey was touched when both Linda and Henry ask him to be her god father. Joey of course accepted the request. When she was born they named her after him, drew.

——

Joey whipped a tear away from his check. Drew was a smart kid growing up. Talented to. All three of them had influenced her into the arts. She would Afton beg for her father to be brought in the studio and sometimes he would let him. When she was here she never gotten in the way of others work. She would stay back and watching the band play as Sammy Lawrence guides them or listen to Susie Campbell do her lines. Sometimes she would play pranks with Wally when people were on break.

She loved all things art but takes after her father the most with Drawing. Which is why she’s about to take over Henry’s place in being one of the owners and within a few years the whole studio, once he could no longer work. He wouldn’t want his work going into any others hand.

Joey drew sighed as he looked around his office. It was good to remember memory’s sometimes but he m supposed it was time to head back to the party now. He gripped his cane, stood up with its supporter and walked out of his office.

#bendy and the ink machine #henry stein #joey drew

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five-hxrgreeves · 3 years

Text

I Won’t Back Down - Five Hargreeves x OC

Word Count: 1,982

You can stand me up at the gates of hell But I won't back down I'm gonna stand my ground Won't be turned around And I'll keep this world from dragging me down

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

Pt. 3- Monday, April 1, 2019

The morning of the first dawned with a bright blue sky and perfect spring temperatures, almost in mocking irony of the fate it would meet later on that same day. Suspecting nothing amiss, Lola began her usual morning routine of getting ready for school. After brushing her teeth, she went to her closet and decided on a pair of jeans, a white, long-sleeved v-necked shirt with black polka-dots and after brushing her hair, hesitated over a choice of hats that she owned. While there was no strict dress code at her school, she did like to make a good first impression on Mondays. The rest of the week was up for grabs.

Coming to a decision, she reached for a yellow hat with a navy-blue ribbon around the crown that was tied in a bow and placed it jauntily on her head. The brunette was somewhat known around school for her unique accessories so she’d only been indecisive over which style she’d wanted, not actually whether or not to wear a hat. She then pulled on a pair of riding-styled boots and picked up her backpack, sliding her deck of cards into the back pocket of her jeans. Lunchtime was usually a boring affair so it was often when she would practice her magic- sometimes with a crowd to entertain.

On her route to school, Lola passed the familiar Umbrella Academy house and wondered what transpired within the walls, remembering the strange man she’d met the previous week. She wondered how long it had been since all of the siblings had seen each other since from Vanya’s book, it hadn’t seemed like they’d lived under the same roof for a long, long time. A smile flickered across her face as she thought of grown-up superheroes attempting to act like real siblings and the interesting, chaotic bickering that might ensue.

(Of course, she had no idea that such arguments might result in the end of life on earth.)

After that, the day passed as it usually did, with millions and billions of people completely unaware of what the night would bring.

Once dinner was over, Lola scraped her plate clean and set it in the dishwasher before turning it on to run, blatantly unaware that this would be the last time she did such a mundane action for a long, long time. Then, she made her way into the family room where her mother, father and uncle were sitting on the couch about to watch TV. Both men had their traditional after-dinner drink of two fingers of whiskey while her mother sipped on spiked hot coffee.

“Mom?” Lola asked.

“Yes, dear?”

“I’m going to the basement now, all of the dinner dishes are cleaned up.”

Her mother’s blue eyes- the ones she’d inherited- flicked to the younger girl, “alright, but don’t stay up too late. It’s a school night, you know.”

Her uncle grinned, “yeah,” he said, breaking to take a sip from his glass, “wouldn’t want you to show up all grumpy for school tomorrow.”

Lola sighed and nodded in acceptance, “alright, I’ll do my best,” she said, knowing it was more than likely she’d lose track of time anyway.

Moving first towards her mother, then father and finally her uncle, she gave them each a goodnight hug and exchanged their daily I love yous.

(She would be grateful that these were the last words she’d ever said to her family. At least she wouldn’t have to live wondering if her family had known she’d loved them.)

Then, she went to the basement.

Not even a mile away, the beginnings of an altercation were occurring at the house the size of a single block where the seventh, disregarded member of the family of superheroes was receiving a hostile welcome at the introduction of her new boyfriend, Leonard Peabody.

Lola liked her basement. It wasn’t terribly large but it wasn’t terribly small, either. Half of it was unfinished and the other half was lived-in, creating a perfect balance. In the unfinished side, metal shelves that one might see in a hardware store stood floor-to-ceiling with various tools and stored holiday items. Paint cans, electric machinery, extension cords and other items one would normally find in a shed were scattered haphazardly along the shelves.

In the other half, a carpeted floor of some green color stretched from the back wall to right before Lola’s writing desk. On top of it sat an old, brown-leather couch, a black wooden coffee table from IKEA and a TV hung mounted on the wall. After the carpet ended, removable foam-padded tiles formed the floor. This was the area where Lola’s desk sat which was a large, white table. The desktop itself was almost empty except for her half-filled notebook, three different-sized candles, a pencil sharpener and a pencil holder. Her papers- both for school and other things- were stored in a hand-me-down brown file cabinet that stood to the left of her workspace.

Before sitting down to write, the brunette carried out her ritual warm-up: lighting the candles, flipping to the next available page, sharpening her pencil and placing her reference books on her desk- The Book Thief, of course, and her new book from Vanya Hargreeves. Then, she pulled her deck of cards from her back pocket and placed the rectangular box carefully on the lower-left corner of her desk, making sure to match up the corners of the box with the outlined shape created by the corner. She wasn’t sure why she did this, it just was something she absolutely had to do before she finally sat down.

Once finished, Lola made sure to flip the electric lights off and returned to her seat which was a rolly-chair with one broken wheel. She began to write surrounded by her small pool of glowing, flickering light.

Today’s memory is from when I was six. (Note to self: find a better opening.) It was my first time at the store for hours on end. Usually, a babysitter would come by and pick me up but I suppose she cancelled. (NtS: get more details. Just kidding, nobody cares about that.) Anyway, I was super bored and since I was little, I didn’t have any schoolwork to do. I wandered around the store for a bit, probably causing mischief. Anyway (you already said that, dummy) the funny part is that I sat down at a group of mannequins because there weren’t any other seats and I must’ve sat so still that everyone thought I was one because when I finally stood up, a woman screamed. I didn’t know why at the time but it happened again when I was older. Then I started doing it for my own amusement. It was funny to see people think that I was a fake, plastic doll only to realize I was actually real. Sometimes, I even went to the back and dressed in clothes that would soon be modeled by the mannequins- although I think the effect was ruined because I didn’t fit them.

A story up and a block over, the altercation had grown to a full-blown verbal assault, the main four members of the family heatedly questioning the new boyfriend’s insistence on them coming to their sister’s concert. The seventh member, feeling hurt and angry that her family wouldn’t, just once support her, felt the tension build up within her, her emotions unusually high from the lack of medication she’d consistently taken for years until this week.

The spot was also great for people-watching. While Gimbel Brothers has mostly ordinary clients, there are some cases that are more noteworthy (NtS: fix wording, sounds awkward). There are many people who bring children to the store as well. On Mondays, there is an average of twelve children, usually after school. The number varies throughout the week until Saturday where there are usually fifteen or twenty. One time, as an outlier during the holidays, there were twenty-five. I know this because I counted them. I don’t usually do it intentionally and I’m sure I miss some customers but for some reason, all the numbers stick in my head. The funny thing is, I’m terrible at math. I’m also really good at cards, though. I’ve never lost a game of War or Go Fish. My uncle says I’m a counter, which I suppose is true. I’ve also counted all the sequins on one of our formal dresses, just for fun. There were two-hundred and eighty-six.

As the sky grew dark outside, the argument in the large house had reached an all-time high with Leonard Peabody outwardly insulting his girlfriend’s largest brother, inciting his anger and riling him up purposefully, causing him to throw the first punch. The seventh member of the family desperately tried to pull her boyfriend away, to save him from an assault that he would surely not survive. She was right about that, but there was nothing she could do. There was only one person Number One listened to and it wasn’t her.

Anyway, back to people-watching. There was once a rich woman who came to our store. No one could figure out why; we’re not exactly the high-end type. She brought her daughter with her, a pretty, blonde girl with bright blue eyes. Almost like mine, I think, but they looked better on her. I heard her tell Brittany that she wanted to get her granddaughter ‘normal clothes,’ except she said it like an insult. I figure that when her granddaughter came to visit, all she provided were expensive outfits and the girl spilled on them, teaching her the lesson of buying cheaper clothes for little kids. She didn’t say all of that but I made up the story to go along with her request.

Standing over Leonard’s body, the seventh member of the Hargeeves turned on her brother, eyes shining white against her pale face. In his hand, he held a bloody, glass eyeball. Her siblings crowded together, trying to calm her, but she spent all of her life being calm and she was tired of it. Turning her gaze to the academy, the building shook under a ten-point-zero earthquake, the bricks and concrete falling down in rapid succession. Tearing her gaze away from the sight of her childhood hell, she let sound waves resonate through the street, knocking over buildings and causing them to collapse, burying her siblings in rubble. Carelessly, she walked away as anger, sadness and hatred fueled her steps to her apartment where she changed and gathered up her violin for the world’s last performance.

She was very posh too, with fur and everything. She stood still long enough that I could study her coat, which had thirty spots. I’m not sure if it was real fur (if it was, she’s a horrible person), but she certainly acted very high-class, even speaking a little nasally and tilting her head up to look down on Brittany. I think it might’ve been because of Brittany’s skin color. The woman didn’t seem to be very accepting of hard-working people that looked different from her.

At ten o’clock pm, the close of the concert, sound waves so large they felled the building and many blocks over swept through the city. A short, dark-haired woman with a glowing white light in the center of her chest rose above the destruction, sending out pulses of sound to the far-reaching corners of the world. With no one to stop her, no one to shoot a gun next to her ear, the bottled power exploded from her chest sharing with everyone the feelings of hurt and neglect that she’d been forced to endure throughout her childhood. One person alone survived in a basement not much deeper than the fictional character’s she admired, writing away and completely unaware that the world above had changed beyond recognition.

#The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x dolores #five hargreeves x oc #five hargreeves x reader #Five x oc #five x dolores #tua five #5 #human dolores #pre-tua #apocalypse #hargreeves #dolores isn't a mannequin #vanya hargreeves

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yet-another-fan-girl9 · 4 years

Text

Inhuman (1)

Summary: All beings in the universe have a soulmate except for Midgardians. People can hear their soulmate in their heads. For almost five hundred and fifty years, Loki believed that he had no soulmate until 1513 when a Midgardian princess was born. Will fate be kind to them or will the universe tear them apart?

Warnings: violence, language, hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy), maybe some AOS season 2 spoilers(?)

Word Count: ~3400

A/N: Yay! The re-write is here! I changed it so now there are flashbacks and stuff and the chapters are longer! I’m also posting this chapter a day early because of reasons. Anyways, enjoy!

[New York, New York, March 2024]

‘Soulmates?’ You had never heard of the concept.

‘We are destined to be together. The universe made it so.’

You shot up in bed, a light sheen of sweat covered your body. Loki’s words replayed over and over in your head. You hadn’t heard his actual voice in so long but it was still as clear as if he was speaking to you now. It had been twelve years since you had seen him in Germany and he had tried to take over.

‘We are destined to be together.’

The words echoed in your mind. ‘Destined’ huh? Well, if you’d learned anything from the past four hundred and eighty-six years that you were not with Loki, it’s that the universe does a shit job at keeping you together. You ran your fingers through your hair, easily smoothing out the tangled mess. It was too early to think about Loki.

You slipped out of the silk sheets that covered your king-sized bed in your two-level, top floor Upper East Side penthouse. You were very proud of how far you had come. The view was amazing. You could see some of Central Park from one side and the stereotypical New York skyline from another.

As you walked out of your room, you caught your reflection in one of your full-sized mirrors. And that was definitely a nice view. When you came out of Terrigenesis almost five hundred years ago, you quickly discovered that you were now the blueprint for a perfect person. Straight, white teeth, surprisingly tameable hair, and clear, unblemished skin were some of the visually obvious changes. In addition to your perfected looks, you had increased senses, healing, strength, endurance, and your favorite, pain tolerance. Oh, and don’t forget you basically look twenty-five forever.

You checked your phone while you made breakfast in the kitchen downstairs. There were a couple of emails from your employees on their latest jobs. You opened one from Max, your right-hand man. You were reading over some job offers he had handpicked for you when you got a text from the man himself.

Bringing up some donuts!

Max was the only person from work to have access to your penthouse. He was your best friend. The two of you had met when you were at Afterlife nearly fifteen years ago. He was an Inhuman as well. All of your employees were Inhumans, using their specialties to carry out their jobs. Max had the power to change surfaces. It was a strange power, but he had learned to make it very useful. He could cause his pursuers to slip on the suddenly ice-like ground or climb up a glass skyscraper.

“Hello, bitch! I brought donuts!” Max called from the elevator.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Max walked in holding the goods. He always wore eccentric color-coordinated outfits. Even the times you saw him in stealth mode, he had to have some lace or frill somewhere. Today he wore a mixture of neon green and pink with matching eyeliner.

“Are Cosmo and Wanda disguising themselves as your clothes?” you asked.

“Haha,” he deadpanned. “I knew you were going to say something like that. You’re so fucking funny. Soo…” He plopped the three large donut boxes onto your kitchen counter. “Have you heard of the Avenger’s new quote-unquote recruit?”

“Um, I think it’s your job to keep tabs on heroes.” You opened the nearest box and happily pulled out your favorite donut.

“Okay. Number one: I’m not speaking to you as your right-hand, right now, but as your friend.” He held up his finger. “Number two: it’s not really a job if I do it in my free time anyways. You’re paying me to do something that I do on an hourly basis.”

“You stalk the Avengers on an hourly basis?”

“No? Anyways, number three: it’s Thor’s brother. It’s your Loki.”

“What the fuck?” you choke on your donut. Max was the only person who knew you that you and Loki had a history. And that’s all he knew. Nothing about soulmates or all that shit. “What the fuck, Max? Did you try to use donuts to soften the blow? Stop laughing.”

“I-I wish I had caught that reaction on camera,” he said in between fits of giggles.

“Haha,” it was your turn to deadpan. “Fuck, man. I guess we just have to double our efforts to keep ourselves off of their radar.”

“Do you think they’ve forgiven him for New York?” Max composed himself.

“I mean, they must have if they’re letting him join the team.” You chanced another bite of your donut.

“But lots of people haven’t.”

“Lots of people still haven’t forgiven Barnes,” you pointed out. You didn’t know when or why Loki had attacked New York. That Loki was nothing like the man who you had grown to love back in the 1500s. But you were nothing like that girl either.

“Have you chosen a new job from the list I sent you?” he changed the subject.

“No, not yet, and you have a little…” you motioned to the corner of your mouth.

Max got the hint and wiped some powder off of his mouth. You noticed the sprinkling of grey that was mixed into his curly black hair. He displayed the last fifteen years proudly while you remained unchanged. Max was the closest you’ve been to someone in a long time, and just like everyone before him, you would outlive him. But you would remember him. You remembered everyone. You remembered everything.

Right now, you thought of Agnes, your first real friend. She was your handmaiden and you had met right before everything went to shit. She had helped you cope after you underwent Terrigenesis, although you hadn’t known what it was back then. She had helped you run away and even died for you. You had only known her for nine years, but you compared everyone to her. Max held second place, right after Agnes.

“I think we should take the Senator’s offer,” Max said, jolting you out of your memories. He pulled up the offer on his iPad. “One million to off his upcoming competition.”

“Damn,” you whistled. “He’s desperate, isn’t he? Is there a deadline?”

“No, but I assume we should get it done quickly.”

“Send over the info.”

🌹

You shoved the flower into Jake Morano’s mouth. Blood from the bullet wound in his forehead trickled down until it turned the perfect, white rose red. You snapped a quick photo on your burner phone to send to the Senator as confirmation. With a huff, you looked around the apartment. Mr. Anderson had put up a fight, although it didn’t do anything to deter you and Max. A few glass awards were in pieces on the hardwood floor, family pictures were shattered, and the wall behind you held a couple of bullets from Anderson’s gun.

“All good?” Max asked from his location by the computer. He was deleting all footage of you being there. And everything else, just to be safe.

“Yep.” You walked over to him, your boots making a satisfying clicking on the ground, and proudly displayed the picture of the dead body. “Got the confirmation picture for the Senator. How’s it coming?”

“Almost… there. We’re good to go.”

The two of you left in your favorite black Lamborghini. Unfortunately, you actually had to drive places now that Gordon was dead. You followed his advice, though, and bought a plane along with four other sports cars, a helicopter, and a couple of motorcycles. You knew how to operate every single one of them. What else were you supposed to do except for establishing your contract killing empire?

🌹

Loki stood in the middle of his assigned room with his hands on his hips. It certainly was much nicer than the last prison the Avengers had kept him in. They may say it wasn’t a prison but the twenty-four-hour surveillance from Stark’s new AI said otherwise. Even though it was nicer than the shitty glass cylinder from twelve years ago, it was empty. Thor had shown Loki the few things in his room: books, photographs, and his own goddamned merchandise.

Would Loki have his own merchandise one day? Everyone was redeemable as shown by Romanoff and Barnes. Maybe there would be plastic replicas of his helmet? No, Loki thought that was stupid. Only heroes got merchandise and heroes had to show up to events and sponsor health drinks or whatever the fuck they do. Heroes had to be nice.

Nothing good ever came from being on Midgard. Most recently, there was his father dying, although what followed was worse. Before that was the attack he had been forced to make on the city. And the first time he had ever come to Midgard had ended with disappointment and heartbreak.

Loki sighed and waved his hand to conjure green and gold accents, sheets, and blankets. At least there was color in the room now. No doubt the AI had reported that he had used his magic. He hoped it had also told them that all he did was improve the room, he didn’t need anyone talking to him at the moment.

“Good afternoon, Reindeer Games,” the AI echoed through the room. Loki glowered at the sound of Stark’s nickname. “There is a meeting in Conference Room Five that the entire team is required to attend.”

Loki hadn’t the faintest fucking idea where the conference rooms were. He left his room and caught sight of his brother and the Valkyrie. The God of Mischief followed the pair down to where the meeting was taking place. Did he really want to go? If he wanted to be part of the team he would have to. He preferred the Revengers, though. While it had lasted. It was smaller.

Everyone was sitting around the long table. Of course, Loki would be the last to arrive. Stark and Barton both glared at him when he entered. Understandable. Romanoff remained impassive, but Loki knew she would bash his head in the first chance she got. Rogers had to remain positive that Loki could be redeemed because if the Norse God could redeem himself, then so could Barnes. Bruce had warmed up to Loki on the journey to Midgard. None of the newer members of the team outright hated him, but they were still cautious around him.

Loki found himself sitting in between his brother and Bruce. Stark went up to the screen at the front and everyone fell silent.

“This is Jake Morano.” The screen turned on to show a dead man with a rose stuffed in his mouth. “He was going to run for Senator against this guy.” The screen changed. “This guy is William Anderson, a very corrupt Senator. In the last month, Morano began to gain a lot of support including a sponsor from us. Well, a sponsor from me in the name of the Avengers.”

“Are you implying that Anderson killed Morano?” Rogers asked.

“I’m saying that Anderson hired someone to kill Morano.” The screen changed again to display multiple bodies left with a rose in their mouths. “I had F.R.I.D.A.Y. do a quick search of bodies with roses found in their mouths and we found a shocking amount of similar deaths. The first ones dating back to the nineteen twenties. More recently, some of the deaths have happened at the same time on opposite sides of the globe. Deaths include, but are not limited to, shooting, stabbing, poisoning, drowning, burning, missing organs, being found stuck in a wall, and looking like a suicide. They all have a white rose soaked in blood in their mouths.”

“Are you sure it isn’t a serial killer?” Wilson questioned.

“Yeah, it’s probably not the same guy,” Romanoff pointed out. “Especially if it goes back to before Steve looked like that.”

“It’s gotta be an organization,” Barnes guessed. “Been around for a while, a couple of deaths happening at the same time, and one constant MO.”

“Loki?” Everyone looked at the God of Mischief when Stark said his name. “You’re technically a part of this team now. What’s your opinion?”

“Barnes is probably right,” Loki said after a moment’s hesitation. “The locations are all over the place and there are many different ways the victims met their demise.”

They nodded and Loki returned to silence.

“Alright, game plan.” Stark clapped his hands. “We have to get Anderson into an interrogation room. Round one is the good cops: Steve and Sam. When he doesn’t crack, and he won’t, we up the intensity. Nat and the Manchurian Candidate will do some intimidation. If he still doesn’t crack we can send in Wanda, or even Reindeer Games if she’s not comfortable, to search his mind.”

“Are all Midgardian politics like that?” Loki heard the Valkyrie ask Thor after the meeting. Thor only shrugged so she turned to Bruce.

“I mean, I haven't been here in a while but it’s always kinda been fucked up.”

Only an hour after the meeting, Anderson took out one million dollars in cash. Stark tracked him to a small cafe where he was going to, no doubt, pay the assassin. The team rallied, but of course, Loki wasn’t going. Apparently, he wasn’t ‘cleared’ yet. The only other people staying behind were the Valkyrie, Thor, and Barton due to a recent injury.

Loki went to his room to sulk, although he told everyone he was thinking. He didn’t want to be here. Maybe he wanted to go somewhere that reminded him of home with tall buildings that reached the sky…

🌹

"Hello, (Y/N)." Loki’s voice was as smooth as it was in your head, but it was different. The only way you could describe it was that it was solid. It felt less intimate. Like he could bless others with his words, but it was more special because he was here.

"Loki," you breathed.

"You look more beautiful than I ever could imagine." He stepped closer.

You touched your hair self-consciously. There were multiple knots, and it probably looked like one of those bird nests the dogs always knocked out of trees. You had woken up in a hurry and your hair being trapped in the hood of your cloak probably didn't help.

Then it occurred to you that you were wearing only your nightgown, and you tightly wrapped your cloak around yourself. Loki wouldn’t hurt you, but no man has seen you in an outfit so revealing. Still, you took another step closer.

"I do not know what to say." Fortunately, your voice didn’t shake or waver as you had feared, but Loki could probably feel your nervousness.

You both took a final step closer. You reached up and cupped Loki's face in your hand which tingled slightly when you made contact. You admired his sharp features and bright blue-green eyes. Then you shivered in the cold winter air. Loki noticed and pulled you into a hug. You leaned into him and felt a shiver, a different, better shiver, shoot through your body.

“You’re real.” Your soft voice was almost lost in the biting wind. “I was so scared that I was dreaming.”

Another goddamned dream about Loki? You groaned into your pillow and pushed a few damp strands of hair away from your face. Why now, all of a sudden? Was it because he was so close? Just a few hours upstate in the Avenger’s compound.

Pushing the dream aside, you stretched and got ready for the day. You had sent the photo to the Senator, who you had learned was very fucking corrupted, and he replied with a location. That changed your plans a bit, you hadn't physically met a client in decades, but it was for the better for multiple reasons.

The first reason was that the cafe he had chosen was next to a flower shop where you got your supply of roses. The second reason was that it meant his apartment would be empty. While you went to get the money, and eventually kill Senator Anderson, Max was going to rob his house. It wasn’t something you’d usually do, but honestly, the shitty asshole deserved it.

Your lips were painted red and you wore your usual boots and a leather jacket. Your regular hair was hidden behind a pink and green wig, courtesy of Max. A baseball cap and large sunglasses further hid your appearance. Though if somebody knew your face, the hat and glasses did nothing. There were multiple knives hidden on your body as well as a handgun tucked into your waistband and a pocket pistol in your, well, pocket.

As you walked into the cafe, Izzy, the auburn-haired florist, nodded to you. She had Botanokinesis, plant manipulation, so your supply of white roses was never low. Every once in a while, Izzy would take a job but she had told you she was very happy in her shop.

You noticed the Senator immediately. He still wore a suit and the sunglasses did nothing to hide his identity. There were two young women behind the counter and you suspected that the four other ‘customers’ were too buff not to be the Senator’s security. Anderson had his back to the door which meant you would have to get past his security to get out. You zeroed in on the black briefcase on the ground by his feet.

“Senator,” you greeted and sat down across from him.

“You can’t possibly be the one I talked to,” the asshole replied. “You’re just a girl.”

“Well of course I couldn’t be,” you rolled your eyes behind your heavily tinted glasses. “My boss is too busy and smart to meet you in public.” He didn’t notice your sarcasm. You pulled out the burner phone and showed him the messages as proof. “Now, I’m also busy so if we can get this over with?”

“Sure, darling.” He put the briefcase flat on the table and pushed it towards you.

“Open it.” Even though small boobie traps wouldn’t hurt you much, it wasn’t a piece of information you wanted to give him.

Anderson sighed and complied. Then you turned it around to quickly inspect the contents. One thousand one hundred dollar bills. Hello Mr. Franklin. You nodded in satisfaction and comically rubbed your hands together to inconspicuously grab a knife that was hidden up your sleeve.

“Thank you, Senator. That will be all.”

You closed the case, stood up, and plunged your knife deep into his left carotid artery. As his security descended upon you, you pulled the knife out and his neck satisfyingly squirted blood. The Senator collapsed with his hands clutching his wound desperately. The pool of blood rapidly grew underneath him.

The two baristas screamed behind the counter and the Senator’s security drew their guns. You flipped the small table for cover as bullets pierced the cafe’s window behind you. Perfect. Just a bit more.

You pulled out the handgun from your waistband and with practiced ease, shot three of the four goons. The last one got the bloodied knife to the face. You elbowed the already damaged window and it finally broke, raining glass down on you. Ignoring the small cuts, you jumped out of the cafe through the window as a familiar red and gold suit landed in front of you. Why the fuck were the Avengers here? What about Loki?

You darted into Izzy’s shop and she played her part well, screaming that you had run out the back when you had actually gone into the side room. You listened as the Avengers followed her directions. One person, maybe it was the Black Widow, stayed behind to help calm down the seemingly hysterical Izzy. If she wasn’t so happy at her shop and she didn’t want to work directly for you, she could be a great actress.

You rolled back the rug on the ground to reveal a metal trapdoor. You entered the code to unlock it and climbed down into the darkness. Behind you, you heard the trapdoor’s magnetic lock click back into place. Two centuries ago, you had tunnels dug underneath Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens for easy getaways. If you went… that way, you would end up in Sandra’s souvenir shop which was a couple of blocks away from your penthouse.

With a million dollars in one hand and a handgun in the other, you walked down the concrete tunnel.

Taglist:

@kaithehero @liliannyah @andreasworlsboring101 @oatballsoffury @aberrant-annie

#inhuman #loki x reader #loki x soulmate reader #loki #mcu #marvel #avengers #Captain america #steve rogers #iron man #tony stark #hawkeye #clint barton #natasha romanoff #black widow #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch

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sketchy-saram · 4 years

Text

Hello! This is Chapter 2 of a Kiwren (Kiran/Wren) story I wrote a while back, although you can find it in their tag if you want to read part one! For anyone who is new, Kiran is @lazyvoyager‘s fan kid of Illain and Muriel, and Wren is the adopted kid of my Celeste and Julian.

Summary: After seeing her crush with someone else, Wren goes to drink her sorrows away at the Rowdy Raven...after hatching a plot to leave Vesuvia, fate has other plans, and she is rescued just in time to throw up on her rescuer and pass out. xD

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

KIWREN CHAPTER 2

Wren stood in the middle of a beautiful meadow. Dappled sunlight shone through the cherry blossom trees, petals gently floating down to the ground and forming a pillowy, light-pink carpet under her feet. She was barefoot--oh, no, she was actually wearing extremely cute slippers, with ribbons that tied up the length of her calves, meeting with the frothy hem of her skirt. It was a dress she had been toying with, beautifully tailored, and now she was wearing it here--wherever here was--and the scene was absolutely perfect. She reached for her braid, only to realize her hair was already loose and in gorgeous honey-amber waves, and had grown a foot or two as well, adorned with a cherry-blossom crown at the top.

Everything was adorable and elegant, and the warm glow she felt wasn’t only from the sun, especially when she glanced across the field and saw the love of her life standing there. He was tall and svelte; that scar across his face adding such character; the dark lines of the tattoo on his chest just peeking out from underneath a billowing white linen shirt. The sight of it had Wren feeling weak in the knees; her stomach trembled, her heart fluttered.

Giddy, she began to run through the petals towards him, in what felt like slow-motion...or, maybe she was running in slow motion? Weird...and he turned to look at her fully, a smile spreading across his face, his arms opening wide in preparation for her. Any confusion she felt was forgotten.

Perfect.

And then there was the oddest sensation of falling. A sudden drop. Everything around her darkened to the black of deadest night. She was barely able to catch herself...except, wait, she hadn’t caught herself at all. She was in a firm grip, surrounded by muscle. Her stomach pitched; this time uncomfortably. Wren’s eyes wildly rolled, trying to find where he had gone...only to see him, walking away, his arm around a beautiful woman with curves everywhere and ever-expanding breasts…

With a jolt, Wren sat up in bed, sweat covering her face and neck, what was left in her stomach threatening to come up. With a heroic amount of effort, she choked it back down, although it was touch-and-go for a few seconds. When at last she could open her eyes without the room spinning, it was with no small amount of consternation.

While she was pretty sure she was no longer dreaming, this was not the room she remembered. It wasn’t her room, and, she was fairly certain, it wasn’t ANY room in her house. She wasn’t even sure it was a room, if she was being honest. Was that...a tree root? Was this house built into a tree? Was that sanitary? Didn’t bugs live in trees? Squirrels? Birds?

Were there birds in this house??

Her mind whirled, and she had to press her hand to her mouth again and stop all thought in order not to be sick. The strange musty smell surrounding her didn’t help, and when she looked down at the blanket that had pooled around her waist, she realized it was some sort of pelt.

Opening one eye, she tried again to take stock of where she was, and to remember what had happened. Why couldn’t she remember? What did she do last night??

And then the last part of the dream flashed before her eyes in stark relief.

Oh. That’s right. That part...wasn’t a dream. Well, the enormous breasts part might have been, but the rest wasn’t. Her chest seized in pain before she could stop herself from thinking about it. She didn’t want to think about it, and luckily for her, there were other pressing matters to focus on. Wren could recall walking through town, dwelling on her misery, and then…

She groaned.

The Raven.

Yes, that was where it had all gone south, so to speak. She had a vague recollection of leaving, and something about her sketchbook…?

Ugh. Her mouth was like cotton, every part of her face felt puffy and blotchy from yesterday’s crying, and she desperately wanted to curl under a blanket that wasn’t made from animals and pretend not to exist for at least a day. Maybe a couple months. If she could, she would hibernate this whole heartache away. But, it seemed, that was never going to be her luck, so instead, she had to figure out what to do next.

Gingerly, Wren threw back the rest of the hide with her forefinger and thumb, revealing with relief that she was still wearing everything from the day before...with a few new, dubious stains. She added fresh clothes and a shower to the list of things she would have killed for right about then. Instead, she got her feet planted on the roughly-hewn wooden floor, just about ready to try standing…

When the door of the hut? room? crashed open to reveal one of the biggest men she’d ever seen.

Reflexively, she grabbed the hide again, yanking it up to her chin to cover herself despite being fully clothed. The stranger didn’t seem to notice as he looked towards her, his face a mess of freckles and beaming smile in dark, sun-tanned skin. The visage looked vaguely familiar, but the pounding of her heart stopped Wren’s mind from being able to place it.

“You’re awake!” he said, voice booming cheerfully around the homely abode. It was not as deep as she might have expected from someone so...well...built. “I wasn’t sure what we were going to do with you if you didn’t wake up, honestly.”

That statement had the hairs on Wren’s neck bristling, and instead of staring at this newcomer, she remembered that all else aside, she was in a dangerous situation. A woman, alone with an extremely burly man, in a strange place, unsure of what was happening.

Well, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight, that was for sure.

She screamed, and the sound seemed to have the desired effect--the stranger froze, and it gave her enough time to scramble up, her entire attention only on reaching the door he’d left open in his wake. She could see the outside through it--if she got there, she was free.

“Wait!” The man’s face was creased in confusion, and his eyebrows rose almost comically. In fact, watching the series of expressions was almost interesting--Wren had never seen someone with such an openly expressive face. Every thought seemed to cross its deep-set, rugged expanse.

Is he simple? Wren thought. She didn’t know if that would help or hurt her situation. So far, nothing seemed to have happened to her, but she didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary to find out. Glancing to her side, she saw she was next to a low-banked fireplace...and right by her hand was a cast-iron skillet. Grabbing it, she held it out in front of her like a sword.

To her surprise, the man actually took a step back, his green eyes widening.

“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”

Slowly, she crept her way along the floor, her eyes firmly held on the stranger, whose face was now comically torn between concern and confusion.

“Listen, I didn’t mean--”

“Nope. Don’t say anything.”

“But I--”

“Shoosh.”

“You really should just--”

“You have the wrong girl, buddy.”

At last, Wren reached the door he had come in through, and risking a look back at it, saw that it wasn’t locked. She brandished the skillet at him once more, then tossed it on a nearby table and swiftly turned, slipping through as quickly as her still-wobbly legs would carry her.

Finally! Freedom!

Outside, bright noon-time sun was filtered through a thick layer of forest vegetation, and Wren realized with a start that she was in the middle of the woods. Her stomach, still in a bad way, tied itself into further knots. She could be almost anywhere, although the Dark Forest seemed the most likely answer. Now, from outside the hut, she could see that it was indeed built into the roots of the nearby trees, and a newer addition looked like it had been added onto the original one-room home haphazardly. Maybe by magic? It honestly did not look architecturally sound.

Here in the yard there seemed to be a host of various animals roaming, cultivated in a miniature forest farm--chickens pecked the ground around Wren’s feet, and she had to jump back to avoid one that was aiming for her toes.

Now even chickens are trying to get me? Could I catch a break for one freaking second?!

Wren sucked in a deep breath, trying to center herself, her eyes nervously trained on the door. She could vaguely tell which way the sun had risen from, which meant she knew which way Vesuvia was. You didn’t learn nothing about wayfinding growing up on a ship, after all. Her house sat beyond the Vesuvian walls to the west of South End, which was the complete opposite of town from the Dark Forest. Great. She was tired before she even started, but with a groan, Wren set off into the woods.

She hated the woods. They were full of bugs and dirt and rocks and...nature. Honestly, nothing good came out of the woods, of that she was sure. Still, the fresh air was nice for her queasy hangover stomach, and it seemed to jog awake her half-asleep brain at last as the adrenaline faded away. She had time to think about that man, who had seemed vaguely familiar, although she was sure they’d never met before…

And then something from her dream-that-wasn’t-a-dream dawned on her. Falling, and strong arms catching her like a doll from thin air. It certainly could have been him...he looked like he probably snapped tree trunks over his knees for fun. Arms strapped with muscle every which-way. At the time, trapped in a room with him, that had been unsettling, but now…

Wren coughed, shaking away the thought. His outfit, on the other hand, was an absolute tragedy. With that build, she thought, there were a few styles she could imagine that would better suit--

My sketchbook!

With absolute horror, Wren realized she no longer had possession of her sketches, even as her hands patted her down to be sure. Had they been left behind in South End? Or were they… She turned to look back over her shoulder, where the hut had already vanished, but a faint puff of smoke from the chimney still gave away its location.

I can’t go back there for my sketchbook. That’s crazy. That man could be an axe-murderer you surprised before he had time to murder you.

But...that book had all of my most recent designs. A month of work, gone. I’ll never remember all the details exactly as they were. I don’t want to have to start them from scratch again…

After a brief mental struggle, Wren finally turned on her heels with a sigh, begrudgingly headed back in the direction she came.

There was still no sign of anyone when Wren quietly snuck back into the clearing, chewing her thumbnail as she thought about how to proceed. The man hadn’t actually done anything to her...maybe if she just...asked him about the sketchbook, he would answer her? It was so crazy, it just might work. So, sucking up her courage and trying to pull her flyaway mane of hair from her face, Wren stomped across the grounds and back to the door of the hut.

Just as she was wondering whether or not to knock, it swung open, revealing the stranger again. They blinked at each other, unsure who was the more surprised.

“You!” he began, obvious surprise in his tone. It was startlingly loud--did he ever just say anything without shouting?

Wren glanced around, wishing she had brought the skillet with her. Instead, she bent down and grabbed the best thing she could find--which happened to be a nearby roosting chicken, who clucked indignantly in her grasp.

It was probably a poor choice of weapon, she thought, but hoped it might at least stop him from attacking her outright. What she hadn’t expected was this tree-trunk of a man to suddenly look so panicked and fretful.

“Wait wait! Just...wait!”

“You. I don’t know who you are, or what I’m doing here, but if you don’t want this...chicken...harmed…”

“No, not Mr. Cluckers!”

“...” Wren blinked, then shook her head. “...Yes, if you don’t want Mr. Cluckers harmed, then listen to me and answer my question. Do you have my sketchbook?!”

“Your what? Be careful with her, she’s old!”

Mr. Cluckers let out another string of cries from under Wren’s arm.

“Why did you name your chicken Mr. Cluckers if it’s a girl chicken??”

“We never name them, my dad does!”

“That’s not--okay, whatever, that doesn’t matter. My sketchbook! Do you have it?”

The man stood with his arms raised, large hands that looked like they were more callous than skin, and Wren couldn’t help being struck by the absurdity of this situation. He was actually, really and truly scared for the chicken, and it was beginning to make her feel bad as he struggled to think around his fear.

“I...maybe? Was that all those papers you had? Yeah, I have them in the house! I made you breakfast! Can we just...could we talk about this?”

After a tense moment where Wren looked between the man and Mr. Cluckers, she finally let out a huge sigh, holding the chicken in both hands and tossing it out into the yard, where it flapped its wings and came to an awkward landing amongst its fellows. Visibly, the large stranger relaxed, wiping the sweat off his forehead and running a hand over his short brown hair.

“Fine. Talk.” Wren ground out grumpily.

He opened his mouth. Instead, an extremely loud grumble practically rattled the leaves on the trees around them, and Wren felt her face flame as she realized the sound had come from her stomach. She closed her eyes and grimaced. Was there a chance that the Dark Forest would swallow her whole? At this point, she wasn’t even sure why she was worried about what this man might do to her--her entire life was nothing but a string of misery and embarrassment, anyway.

When she opened her eyes, to her surprise, he was grinning, and it made him seem more youthful, somehow. In fact, despite his hulking size, she would have almost wagered he wasn’t too much older than her--maybe Felix’s age.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in? I made eggs,” he said, gesturing towards the door and holding it open.

With a flick of her messy braid and a loud ‘harrumph’, Wren stomped past him and entered the hut again, avoiding his mirthful eyes.

Well, she was hungry, anyway. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt.

#fanfiction #fanart #the arcana game next generation #my art #my writing #Kiwren #Kiran #Wren #Wren Devorak #my oc #other people's ocs #fanwriting #chapter 2 #long post

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nelllraiser · 4 years

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severance | bea, luce, nell, & nisa (ft. rosemary and helena)

LOCATION: the council chambers of the witches of the silver flame. PARTIES: @beatrice-blaze, @divineluce, @nelllraiser, and @nisavurcl. SUMMARY: the vural sisters answer for their crimes.

"And I will go if you ask me to. I will stay if you dare. And if I go I'm goin' on fire. Let my anger take me there"

When Clementine had come running to the coven council and Nisa about the strangeness of the Vural daughters, the matriarch had been ready to dismiss whatever was happening as one of her youngest daughter’s typical shenanigans. Certainly she wasn’t pleased, but it was hardly worth bridging to the council. But the longer Clementine had talked, the more dubious things became, and the harder the rock in Nisa’s stomach had grown. It was too elaborate of a story to be made up, and she herself knew of the animosity that August and Penelope had shared for the bulk of their life. How could Bea and Luce have gotten caught up in such things, though? They were meant to be more responsible than this. How had everything gotten so tangled when she’d only been gone for a couple of months? She waited with the other council members for her daughters to appear in the chambers. The only choice they’d had was to summon the three witches in for examination, to question them just as they would have done to any other coven member. For a long moment, Nisa had played with the concept of warning her daughters. She’d always been one to believe in facing the consequences of one’s actions, but this was a step up from that in severity. She hadn’t reached a decision, and her lack of decision had found her running out of time to warn them, thus the Vural daughters went unaware of why they were being brought forth to the council. As the three of them filed in, she cleared her throat, straightening her back in her chair to become the formidable council member she was known to be. “Beatrice Vural, Lucinda Vural, and Penelope Vural— you’ve been summoned by the Witches of the Silver Flame to answer for accused crimes that fall outside of this coven’s parameters.”

Rosemary clasped her hands tightly around the wooden arms of her chair, her eyes dark and unreadable as she stared at the girls who stood before the council. The Vural girls. She should have known that it would be them, but she’d doted on them as children. She could still remember the three of them being tutored with the other young children of the coven-- bright, studious Beatrice, quiet, moody Lucinda, and excitable, energetic Penelope. With no children of her own, she’d viewed all the young spellcasters of the coven as extensions of her own family. But, the allegations Clementine had approached the council with, talks of murder, of dark magic and necromancy? The women who stood before her were not those same children. They had gone down an unforgivable path, done unspeakable things to one of their own. A member of their coven. “You stand before this council facing the following charges: the practice of dark magic, the practice of necromancy and human resurrection, and the murder of another member of this coven, August Thompson.” Rosemary spoke, doing her best to keep her voice level and calm. Just as she remembered the Vural sisters as children, so too could she remember young August, always trying so hard to prove himself. How could they do this? How could these girls do… any of it?

When Clementine had come forward with her claims, Helena had been beyond thrilled. The Vurals had been good enough members of the Coven and she had no issues with them, but this gave her the opportunity to gain more standing on the Council. Everyone would be looking at Nisa now and if Helena was lucky, the woman would step down with grace after this scandal. Then there was room for someone new and more aligned with Helena’s thoughts to join the council. Her chin tilted upward, face stern as she looked over the woman. “We have witness testimony and evidence against you. Telling us the truth will make things much easier for you.” Helena hoped they would be too much like their mother to step down from a challenge of their pride. “How do you plead?”

Nell hadn’t seen her mother since she’d returned from Turkey, not knowing how to explain away the scars that encompassed her entire arms, nor the one that went a third of a way across her neck. Especially in conjunction with the matching one Luce had, and the one that spanned Bea’s entire neck. But it seemed that someone had done the explaining for them. Standing in front of the council on trial for their actions was not how she’d expected it to go, though. As she took in the council, a sinking stone formed swiftly in her gut, weighing her down in a way that made her push her shoulders back forcefully, as if trying to prove that she wouldn’t be defeated by it, or the witches sitting before her and her sisters. They wanted a plea, and there was really only one way this could go. The council already had the information, and there was no use in fighting it. In addition, the truth spell placed on the chambers wouldn’t permit any of them to lie. At this point, it wasn’t a matter of whether or not they’d be found out, but what their punishment would be. Maybe she could draw a good amount of the attention. Take the blame like she always had growing up. Nisa’s favorite target. So Nell stepped forward, apart from her sisters to say. “I plead guilty.”

On some level, Luce had known that their actions would come back to bite them. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, had instead taken to hiding her fears with violence and anger and lashing out with magic. Of course, that was the reason for their whole situation wasn’t it? When she’d received the summons from the coven, there had been some fear, some anxiety. But, for the most part, she’d resigned herself to her fate. Luce’s fingers brushed against the choker around her throat, covering her scar. It had served as a reminder of what she’d done. She cast dark magic, practiced necromancy, committed murder, slain another member of their coven. Even without the magic that seeped into the very walls of the council chambers, she would readily admit it to them. When Nell took a step towards the council, Luce’s eyes widened. What was she doing? Why was she doing that? Casting a glance over at Bea, Luce clenched her jaw before taking a step forward as well. “I plead guilty.”

There had been a part of Beatrice that had thought their mother might have tried harder to protect them from the Council’s wrath. She was disappointed to see that her mother only had loyalty to her daughters in small measures. She had worn an outfit her mother had once picked for her, crisp white lines of a suit that screamed look at me. Hiding her scar was the scarf Felix had gifted her. Anger simmered under her skin as she looked at each of the Council members. She stepped forward, pulling the scarf from her neck and linking hands with her sisters. “I plead guilty, but I feel no guilt for what I have done.” She pressed her lips, trying to force herself from snarling at the Council. “Were you told the whole story or just the parts that painted us badly?” She asked, rage making her voice even more ragged than what it usually was.

The scar on her daughters’ necks and arms were ugly, and not just for cosmetic reasons. Nisa’s lips tightened as the three of her daughters said the most disappointing words they’d said in their entire lives, but it was hard to weigh the council responsibilities on her shoulders against the heart of a mother, even one that was as demanding as herself. The scars were obvious marks of magic gone wrong to the trained eye, and this was magic that had gone very wrong. Her daughters could have died. One of them had died. And she’d been in Turkey. She wished she could have protected them from all this, but now it was too late. They’d made their choices, and now they’d have to deal with the consequences. She wasn’t Nisa Vural, mother of three in these moments. She was Councilwoman Nisa of the Witches of the Silver Flame. And exceptions couldn’t be made, especially for her family. “I’m sure we’ve yet to hear the whole story. We’re eager to hear the rest, and are waiting. As it stands, though— there are still crimes to be atoned for.

As Nisa began to talk, Bea’s eyes went to her mother’s. They were mirrors of each other. Bea was the spitting image of her mother and many had thought she would do great things just like the matriarch. She glared at the woman now, she didn’t want to be like her mother. Bea wouldn’t pick the coven over her family. “August paid a man to kill Nell. He was going to butcher her because of petty jealousy. Every single one of you knows how he felt about her.” Her lips pressed together as she took a moment to shove her emotions down,“I got between her and the Hunter that coward brought and I had my head cut off. I died because of the actions of August Thompson. So personally I don’t see it as murder, but rather retribution. Something we were owed.”

Rosemary flinched in her seat at Beatrice’s blunt explanation of what had occurred. Clementine had already told Nisa about what she’d overheard, but still. Little August Thompson had done such a thing? He had paid someone to take Penelope’s life? How could he have done that? She’d always known there had been friction between the two of them, but Rosemary had dismissed it as little more than the rivalry that came with youth. She looked over at Nisa, her heart breaking for the woman. Nisa was a member of the council and her daughters had flagrantly disregarded the rules and measures of the coven. They’d done unspeakable, dark magic. Shifting uncomfortably, the woman shook her head, “We are aware of the general circumstances that occured. The murder of August Thompson… that is not our primary concern.” She said, though the words hurt to say. A member of their coven, dead. Though, she supposed, there was no other way things could have gone. Beatrice, Penelope, or August, one of them would be dead regardless. “The matter of necromancy is what troubles me the most. You three know that necromancy is prohibited by the tenants of our coven and yet, you thought to exert power over forces beyond your control.” Her eyes flickered to Penelope’s arms and she swallowed, “Clearly, you are aware of the consequences of this. However, the blatant disregard for our sacred laws cannot go overlooked.”

Everything felt as if it were slipping away from Nell. The coven had always been a safe haven for her, a place to belong when the rest of the world shied or ran away from here. Part of her wanted to clutch it to her chest, and hold it tight, as if it were her last security blanket left in the world after everything had happened. But they were also wrong. Her mother’s detached words weren’t a surprise. Nisa had always been big on punishment, especially when it came to the coven and her youngest daughter. Now it seemed she was finally extending it to Luce and Bea as well. But would she have been harsher if it were just Nell on trial? It was something the young witch couldn’t help but wonder. “If we’re talking about blatant disregard for sacred laws, is it not the most sacred of laws that we look after one another, that we protect our sisters in both magic and blood? Bea was doing just that, and Luce and I did it for her in return by bringing her back from death. Are we really going to be punished for going to the ends of the Earth for another witch and our family? Weren’t you the ones who taught us to do that?”

Helena could laugh, they were making it easy for her to spin all of this. She tutted at Penelope,“You went behind the Coven’s back to perform magic that goes against the Coven’s rules. If you had come to us, perhaps this would be different.” She glanced over to Nisa with a faux pitying look,“After all your mother did to drag her family name from the dirt where her mother left it, you go and betray her and our trust. It seems like this type of behavior runs in the family.” Idly, she flipped a few pages in her notes. “Now, you say that August did this because of ‘petty jealousy’. However, we have multiple witnesses who claim to have seen August in pain at Beltane and Penelope and Lucinda Vural dragged him away from the scene. Doesn’t seem a little odd to anyone else?”

As both of her sisters argued against the council, Luce’s lips pressed together into a thin line. Rosemary had a point-- they’d gone against the laws of the coven and while she didn’t just want to lie down and just accept what was happening, there wasn’t any way to get around what they’d done. But, Helena’s words had her frowning, the words slipping from her mouth before she could stop herself. “‘If we’d come to you?’ You’re seriously trying to say that you would have just signed off on us bringing back Bea? We all know that’s a load of-- that’d never happen.” She caught herself as anger burned in the pit of her stomach. “Don’t you bring our grandmother into this. That has nothing to do with what’s being discussed here..” She glared at Helena. Bitch. She’d never liked Helena and even less so now.

Nisa’s eyes flashed towards Helena, the witch having hit the sorest of spots when it came to her family and history. She was right. Nisa had worked hard to continue to build on the family legacy her mother had tried to tarnish by dabbling with demons. But she knew better than to think that Helena was bringing it up for any productive reasons. “Yes— well, I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it is to uphold and grow a family legacy, Helena.” The Matsdotter family was relatively young in comparison to the Vurals and some of the other witch families, yet to have a place on the coven council until Helena had come along. “Thankfully, Lucinda is correct in saying that the crimes of the past are, indeed, past.” But there was some truth in the other parts of Helena’s words. What had antagonised August? “There is still a piece of the puzzle missing, though. Why did August feel the need to hire a killer?” She looked each of her daughters’ directly in the eyes, showing no mercy when it came to needings answers. “As for what this council may or may not have done in the face of Beatrice’s death, we can’t possibly assume anything one way or the other. For we weren’t given the chance to pass judgement.”

An amused smirk grew on Bea’s lips as Helena spoke to their mother, though she quickly schooled her face. She had expected the Council to act like adults and yet here they were, digging into past issues. “Because he was a cowardly man who realized he would have no chance against Nell? He was a mediocre spellcaster at best and Nell is one of the better in the Coven.” She couldn’t help the snort that came out then, “We all know what would have been done. I would be condemned to rotting in the ground because you all would have never allowed for them to learn my craft.” She had pulled away from the coven for many reasons, but this right here was one them. She never wanted to face people who refused to learn that there was beauty in necromancy. “No one trusts this Coven to do what’s right when it comes to things of this nature. So we have to do them behind your back. You all would rather stay in the past than to see why what we did was good and just.”

Though Rosemary hardly liked drudging up the unpleasantries of the past, Helena brought up a fair point-- this behavior, going against the ways of the coven, taking matters into their own hands, practicing dangerous magic were all hallmark traits of Nisa’s mother. And these girls seemed to have inherited that desire to test the limits of what could be done. Or rather, what should be done. At this point, what alarmed her was how blatant they had been with their practices. It seemed as though the girls hadn’t even attempted to hide what they’d done. That sort of thing was sure to attract attention, from the wrong kinds of people. People who would seek to harm the coven. “Penelope, do not cite the ties of family to me-- this coven is my family. And the laws exist for that precise reason, to protect us all from harm. What you did, it could attract unwanted attention. By practicing this magic, you endanger not only yourselves, but the rest of the coven.” She said, her voice trembling with worry. “How dare you insult this coven, Beatrice. Nature has laws, magic has laws that must be abided by. Your very presence is... “ She swallowed, “Unnatural.”

“Well you’re not acting as if it’s your family,” Nell retorted hotly before listening to the rest of Rosemary’s words. Not even her mother was acting like family in these moments. Family would fight for one another, just as Bea and Luce and Nell had fought for each other. It shouldn't hurt. Not after all these years of similar treatment. Nell had expected as much, but foresight couldn’t help her when it came to saving her from the twist of Nisa’s distanced knife. As the council member carried on, she wondered if there was perhaps the smallest grain of truth in the older woman’s words. Would outside forces try and bring harm to the coven for what the girls had done? But no. Certainly there were other ways. “There wouldn’t even be any unwanted attention if it wasn’t brought to light! Who’s going to tell people? I sure won’t. The only reason there’d be any danger would be from the council telling people about it.” Still, what if people did come after her sisters? If they somehow stayed in the coven, would that make the two of them safer? She had one more card to play— didn’t she? Something that could hopefully distract from what Luce and Bea had done. “August wanted to kill me because I stole his memories. Took them after he caught me summoning a demon. He was going to out me to the council, but I stopped him. I guess I take after my grandmother Suna more than we thought. So really, this was all my fault.” Let the blame fall to her.

Being scolded wasn’t unexpected and Helena could deal with the ire of Nisa. All she wanted to do was remind those on the council that Nisa’s blood sang with issues. With this blow to her reputation, perhaps it would be easier to start sowing distrust in the other council members. “You three have brought unnecessary danger to our coven. You were selfish and went against everything we have taught you. You children turned your backs on the people who raised you.” Helena regarded Nell with a cold look,“You admit to more crimes then? I suppose we should discuss punishment.” Helena turned to look at her fellow council members, before looking forward to the guilty. “You have admitted to murder and breaking our most sacred rules. You have become things unnatural and have hurt the cycle of the universe by doing so. Some of the council members would not be opposed to sacrificing your lives to bring order again. Others wish to be lenient and simply excommunicate you from the coven.”

Luce resisted the urge to groan when Nell stepped forward, telling them about the demon summoning, the circumstances surrounding why they’d been involved with August in the first place. They weren’t on trial for any of that, they weren’t being asked about it. Why the fuck had she brought it up? Before Luce could intervene, Helena spoke of… sacrificing their lives? Her eyes widened and she stared, first at Helena, then to their mother. She knew that the coven would deliver punishment for what they’d done, but-- death? That was what was on the table here? How could the council even consider that. “Who on the council wants to sacrifice our lives to the great order of things, Helena?” Luce snapped, leveling the woman with a searing glare. “A life for a life, equivalent exchange-- yes. We sacrificed August, but it never would have happened if he hadn’t attempted to-- no, if he hadn’t killed Bea. She’s only here because we intervened. Because the council would have never helped us and would have never punished him for what he’d done.” Her hands shook with anger at her sides, but she held herself tall, proud. The coven… they couldn’t kill them. They couldn’t.

For a small moment, utter shock had paralyzed Nisa. Demons as well? Had she failed her daughters so miserably that they were repeating the sins of her mother and more? Where had she gone so miserably wrong that all three of her children had even brushed against the illegal practices of the coven? Had she not hammered into each and every one of their heads how important family was? How they needed to protect one another and hold the family name in high esteem? Perhaps she’d taught them a little too well— to the point where they were willing to save their sister’s life over all else. And if she’d been given the chance to save her brother, killed by that Miriam bitch all those years ago...would she have done it if it meant throwing away everything she’d worked to build back after the shaming and excommunication of her own mother? But breaking through the anger and shame of these thoughts was the mention of death. To kill her three daughters? The little girls she’d raised from diapers, and cleaned the scrapes of? To watch them fall? It was unthinkable. She’d spent her entire life trying to steer them right, cornering them into protective and approved spaces where they wouldn’t be hurt. “We’ve never made ourselves a coven that doles out death, and I don’t anticipate we’ll start now,” her tone was steely and cold, the protectiveness of a mother finally peeking through. “Playing with death is one of the very reasons necromancy is banned, and why these three women are on trial now. To dabble in it would make us hypocrites.”

Bea’s shoulders grew tense as she heard the words sacrifice and without even meaning, she looked toward her mother. Nisa wouldn’t allow that. She wouldn’t make her die twice. Bea’s jaw clenched, she refused to cry at the prospect of death, not in front of these people. They would take that as a sign weakness and Bea couldn’t afford to be weak here. Her shoulders sagged ever so slightly as her mother spoke against the penalty of death. Her mouth was dry, but she spoke anyway. “I take then we’re excommunicated and not allowed to contact those in the Coven? Or use your resources?” Bea might have distanced herself but she still had friends there. Her grandmother was still there and Bea loved her grandmother. Her parents were there and even though she was angry and disappointed in them, the isolation this punishment would give her made her throat tight. They would miss out on so many moments in her life and her sisters’ lives. Guilt pooled in her stomach. Bringing her back now meant the loss of their family. She straightened her back. They were deciding this. It wasn’t as though she had chosen to die. Their parents were deciding to leave them behind, she could live with their decision, even if it stung as badly as the blade that had taken her life.

Rosemary’s breath caught in the back of her throat when Helena said those words-- there had been murmurs of bringing the girls to justice, of meting out punishment in order to demonstrate what became of those who attempted to fight against the natural order of things. And, their crimes, their crimes. Demon summoning, necromancy, murder, violence within the coven? Such things would attract so much attention to the coven. People would notice, people were bound to talk. And what then? What fate would befall them all? Helena’s methods were brutal, but punishment… it needed to be delivered. And the girls, though she loved them dearly, were far too dangerous to be affiliated with the coven of the Silver Flame. At Bea’s words, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “I hope you all understand that I take no joy in this. But, yes. It is far too dangerous, for all of us, for you to remain within our coven. We cannot extend our protection to those who would bring harm to the very community they are a part of.” Looking around at the other members, she spoke in a clear voice, “I vote for excommunication. Council?”

In the span of a short moment, death as a sentence had come and gone. If she’d blinked, Nell might have missed the entire interaction. Still, she had felt her magic pool in her gut. If the council had been set on killing her and her sisters, she would have been ready to fight, to tear their way out of here and never look back, or at least try not to. Things of the past often had a way of making themselves unforgettable. As it stood, the council had begun to vote, and that familiar sense of powerlessness began to creep along Nell’s neck. They wouldn’t take the coven away from her. They couldn’t. Even if it was full of rules she broke, and council members of hypocrites, that wasn’t all this place was. The coven was her home, her literal family with the Vurals making up a good chunk of it, a place she’d always been able to be herself when there was nowhere else in the world she’d been able to do that. And now it was going to be ripped away? Just like that? It’d be taken from her sisters, too. Control was slipping out of their grasps along with the coven, and Nell tried vainly to grab the fraying ends of it, to tie a knot on the last of the rope. She turned to face her mother. “Do something! Can’t you just do something for once? Be on our side for two fucking seconds?!”

Nisa’s youngest daughter’s pleading voice fell on hard ears, though they weren’t entirely deaf. “I did so something, Penelope. I told you time and time again what would happen if you continued down this path, and now your sisters are on it as well.” There was only one way for them to learn, wasn’t there? They wouldn’t realize the error of their ways until they hit rock bottom. So if it was tough love they needed as a teacher, it was what they would get. Taking the time to make eye contact with each of her children, she simply said, “Let this be a lesson.” It would be as hard for her as it was for them. Then she turned to the council, her shoulders having never moved from their steeled position. “I cast my vote for excommunication.”

Bea stepped forward, grabbing Nell’s hand, trying to tug her back. She turned to glare at Nisa, rage rolling off of her as she stared her mother down. “This path was my own and I took them down it. I taught them necromancy. This isn’t Nell’s fault.” Stepping forward, Bea pointed at Nisa, hand shaking with anger as her voice raised. “This is your fault. You have blamed Nell since she was a child. You ignored Luce. You were a bad mother! You were fucking blind to what any of us needed unless it fit what you wanted! That’s what put us on this path.” She lowered her hand, head shaking,“I wanted to be you, Nisa,” She pronounced her mother’s name sharply. She would never call that woman Mama again. “I’m disappointed that you’ve picked a coven over your children. I hope they’re as loyal to you as you are to them.”

Death seemed almost preferable to excommunication as Luce heard her mother cast her vote against them. They were being thrown out, tossed aside, abandoned by the only people who could ever understand their struggles. Had she done terrible things? Yes. There was no denying that. And she had known there would be a price to pay. But she had tricked herself into believing that their mother would never turn her back on them, would never choose the coven over them. And now, reality was staring her hard in the face. "We are exactly the women you raised, Mother. Nothing more and nothing less than that! We did what we knew was right, what you taught us was right!" Luce yelled before shaking her head. But, she knew their fates were sealed.

Nell was crumbling in a way only her mother could cause, the rockfall known as Nisa Vural taking no prisoners as she barreled through the three of them. She recognized Bea and Luce’s anger, had experienced it herself for years growing up when faced with the injustices of their mother. She still felt it even now, boiling down beneath her broken heart as their mother laid down her verdict. It’d taken her far too long to learn that chasing after her mother’s approval was a fool’s game, and now her sisters would have to realize it for themselves. “She’s not worth it,” she said in a trembling voice, linking hands with her sisters to pull them towards the doors of the chambers. It was time to go. “She’s not fucking worth us. We’re better off without her.” Maybe if she said it aloud to her sisters, she’d believe it was true. Nell had told herself long ago that she wouldn’t let her mother break her heart anymore, that she wouldn’t let Nisa Vural have any power over her and the way she felt. But no matter how many times she’d whispered the words to herself, a part of her still struggled to make them true. “We don’t need them. We don’t. We’ve got what we need right here,” she said with a squeeze against her sisters’ hands. But it was hard to believe what she was saying when an errant tear was sneaking down her cheek. “We’ll show them,” she finished hotly, refusing to address the way her chest felt like it’d been cleaved in two. Replace it with anger and empty spaces and move on.

The only phrase that could describe Helena in this moment was ‘cat got the cream’. Watching the almighty Vural family crumble in front of her was absolutely amazing. How amusing to see them go after each other over and over again. “I cast my vote for excommunication.” The other two members echoed her cast and she looked towards the former Coven members. “You have been officially excommunicated for the crimes you committed against the Witches of the Silver Flame. You can not seek protection from our coven, you can not use our resources, and you can not reach out for assistance. Current members of the coven will not speak to you or risk receiving punishment themselves. You have made your bed, now you must lie in it. Good luck without us, darlings.”

#chatzy #wickedswriting #ch:luce #ch:nisa #ch:bea #severance

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evergreen-dryad · 4 years

Text

jshk scribble #3

8 - superheroes/powers AU - kind-of, this one’s a magical girl AU. AkaAoi

— from this list of prompts here for August.

"Hurry!" She whispers as she takes a huge flying leap over the ridge of the roof, the ends of her sash fluttering behind her. Ahh, she'll never get over this, the sensation of almost-flying, of jumping into the air, and instead of falling, she—

—floats, as gently as if gravity was a dream.

She lands with an elegant click on her heel, right onto the next roof.

"Ao-chan!" Scandalised and red-faced, Akane catches up to her, looking quite dashing in his new get-up. His magical girl outfit, she supposed she could say. He lands with a neat step, his mask glinting gold underneath the light of the moon, and scattered streetlights. "Don't go ahead without me!"

"I was careful not to be seen." She pouts at him, tucking her arms by her hips. She'd even ensured there was a shadow of a cloud passing before taking the leap. Anyway, who even looked up on rooftops? At most, stargazers or security cams.

"No, the problem is-!" He waves a hand, flustered. "Your skirt, Ao-chan! What if someone saw?"

"Ah." Aoi stares at him, then huffs a laugh. "It's okay, it was too high up~"

“That doesn’t make it okay what if-”

Akane continued to fret out loud for several minutes, so Aoi smiled sweetly and let him. The night air was cool and whisked away most of the words from Aoi’s hearing, while they continued on their nightly patrol.

For every night, you see, there were ayakashi.

How did this begin, you ask? Well—

It all began, as with all magical girl animes do, with a magical companion. Except these mini fairies were not cute or endearing at all. Aoi did not think they were even trying.

Hers appeared as a bone-masked goatman that apparently brought death wherever he stepped. (It was just as well he never landed anywhere, and always flew with tiny wings.) Ergo, a shinigami in chibi form, asking her to be a sacrifice ahem tribute, to offer her body and soul up to wield the Powers of Life and Death aka magical girl, to help close up the portals between the boundaries of the Near and Far Shores.

Aoi of course, was suitably thrilled after the shock. Something interesting! More to life than just what was visible in this harsh reality!

And then of course, it turned out there was another magical girl — well boy in town, and within a few seconds of talking to him Aoi already knew who it was, no need to even waste several seasons of episodes dancing on the 'will they won't they find out'. It was clearly her childhood friend who also had a massive crush cough obsession with her, who she knew better than anyone, Akane.

Turned out he'd been contracted too. Except he kind of got tricked? Yikes, his companion was a jerk.

Apparently his was a hooded old man, and so that meant Akane got the option of a hood yes but he also got a spizzy new suit and an owl mask and long hair in a tail, which was all very good and did do wonders to her awkward childhood friend. Because for once he actually looked like he could give other models a run for their money.

(Aoi carefully did not think more on this train of thought.)

Another interesting note: transforming made them supernatural, and much more mature-looking. Or at least, that was what Aoi thought was what was happening, because she didn't feel that much different in her get-up. Seeing her transformed reflection, she didn't think she'd grown any taller either.

Perhaps it was just as well. She didn’t need it.

Akane of course, reassured her that she was even more beautiful, if that was possible, in her shrine maiden dress, because she was already Perfect the way she was.

Aoi smiled and took it as the compliment it was. There was no other way to take it otherwise, not with Akane.

Most annoyingly, Akane would not tell her what his wish was in exchange for becoming a magical boy. Especially since he even said he had been manipulated. Aoi had suspicions, but decided to leave it at that. Contracts were highly personal for magi, after all.

She knew she would never tell anyone what hers was.

And then Akane’s worry came true: they were seen. Not just seen, but by a boy with a telescope. In summary, Akane’s worst nightmare when it came to preserving her ‘purity’.

Staring down at wide yellow eyes gaping at them, she internally sighed. There actually was a stargazer in their area.

Two of them, in fact. There was another set of eyes peering over from the first boy’s shoulder. Twins, how cute. Akane was fidgeting in that certain way he thought was subtle, gloved fingers inching towards his pocket where his pocket watch was. Aoi could see he was itching to just use his power and flee the scene, but—

Aoi didn’t want to do that. She shot him a look.

The second boy ran over to them, goggling at their outfits. “What’s a shrine maiden and a suit guy doing here?” He grinned toothily, holding out his hand.

The first boy continued to stare at them apprehensively. “Tsukasa…” He walked forward, tugging on his brother’s sleeve.

Besides, she didn’t think anyone was going to believe them if they told.

“They’re magi too, aren’t they?” Tsukasa said confidently.

They all froze. “Too?” Aoi echoed, Akane blinking rapidly beside her.

The other boy in front of them looked very uncomfortable for a moment, but he sighed and relented at Tsukasa’s gleeful look, after glaring at him. He reluctantly said, “I was the first one in the area.” He shot them a suspicious look. “I don’t understand — how can there be more? Who contracted with you?”

// Originally written in May for an AkaAoi prompt! Wanted to make them partners-in-crime phantom thieves like in Kaitou Saint Tail, but had no idea where to take it.

I think I wrote this after having watched a magical girl anime compilation, and I was just like lol I’m not writing the dual identity situation of ‘am I in love with 2 different people’. ooH hananeneama Just included the Yugi twins today, because why not make them all exploits of the magical child system lol

-Amane would have made a wish to protect, hence power is barriers. I like to think he made that wish to protect Nene (why? am unsure. she’s an easy target because she’s gullible?) -imagining Aoi’s power is smth like Chat Noir’s Cataclysm. Can only revive dead things so luckily there’s the undo button -if Nene is a magical girl, her power would be illusions. -Kou!!! Next town over! Or, he’s the policeman’s kid XD

braincells left? none. I’m not used to not writing either Amane or Nene’s POV XD

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #jshk #au_gust_2020 #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #aoiaoi #akane aoi #aoi akane #yugi amane #yugi tsukasa #my writing #ed fics

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milas-imaginarium · 4 years

Text

The kindest thing

Language: English

Rate: G

Pairing: Lancelot Kingsley x MC

Note: @styletters there you go dear. I proofread this but it may contain mistakes, sorry in advance, this is long as hell.

Should I create a masterlist? I have not too much writings after all. I hope you like it.

Her eyes opened in slow motion as her lashes fluttered heavily, the bright sun blinded her for a second but shortly she was able to look where she was.

"Young Lady, are you okay?" she didn't recognize the pleasing voice but the tone of it soothed her, seconds after she realized her body was resting peacefully on a stretcher, no pain, no blood.

"Where I'm?" the girl uttered lighter than usual, her eyes finally focused on the person taking care of her; a doctor from the red army. He was not Kyle, he seemed older. A prick of worry made her head spin.

"I see, you don't remember anything" what was that man talking about? She tried to sit down but the red-haired doctor didn't allow her "I'll tell you everything but please stay still" what happened? Thousand of possibilities crossed her mind as her heart raced almost jumping out of her chest.

"Last night a soldier found you on the royal garden. You were unconscious but using a gown also a tiara so we assume you're from a royal family out of this country" the doctor kept quiet for a moment trying to find the words to clarify the situation avoiding a panic state "What we don't understand is why you're here. His majesty asked me to take good care of you."

Lancelot was the king, Lancelot Kingsley was her fiancé, why the impersonal behavior? "I don't know what happened to you young lady, but the red army is going to help you as much as we can" and then it hit her as a fiery wave "Oh, no..." her hands encased her face "Please let me see the king. I beg you."

Her legs were shaking as her stomach felt sick. It couldn't be and the only way to prove her suspicions was to see the king, however a bad feeling crept in her mind. The mere idea of something like this happening was ridiculous but not impossible...Oliveira guessed.

°°°

It was the celebration of the "Stargazing" festival in Cradle, as the two armies signed a truce the festival felt different. Happiness and peace were floating around the citizens and authorities, it was a dream to assist to a festival in her new home one week before the wedding, but something was off.

"I see, Oliveira" the Queen of spades spoke solemnly when the bride to be concluded the story. Last night she showed Lancelot a picture of himself in his childhood sleeping peacefully, the picture was inside a book in the old part of the library. Lancelot was taken aback and avoided the topic, his blue eyes full of sorrow "Lance was a lonely kid. He was born to fulfill his place as the future king. I shouldn't be telling you this, Lance sooner than you think will be ready to tell you by himself, after all, a man can't keep secrets from his wife"

"Having fun without me?" a deep voice made both, Queen and bride to be, turning around their heads only to find Lancelot looking sober. Oliveira smiled subtly, that's the face of a jealous King "Never. I see you around, Mrs. Kingsley."

As Sirius walked away smiling nonchalantly Lancelot spoke: "I admit it sounded good, isn't it?" the young lady nodded embracing herself to her lover's chest "I love you, Mrs. Kingsley. Let's go...we need to initiate the festival." with a kiss on his fiancee's forehead both went to the dancefloor, as the official royal couple they were in charge of the first dance. Everything was unreal except for the awkward sensation in her chest, she would never forget the baby boy in the photo living a life where loneliness was constant.

After dancing and eating all kind of typical Cradle's food people was ready to make their wishes. Every two years the festival was celebrated thanks to a meteor shower, as Cradle was a magical country people kept the tradition to ask favors to the stars, that's what the festival was about.

"I want to make Lancelot happy in all the stages of his life, I want to fill his heart with joy and his days with light"

°°°

"This must be a dream" Oliveira murmured while marching behind a guard, the King was ready to talk to her.

"After lunch, you'll attend the second part of your classes, Prince Lancelot" the woman stood silently, her desperate eyes looking for Lancelot and there he was, a six or seven years old boy, blue eyes, messy blond hair, the expression she knew so well. The floor melted under her feet, it was too real to be a dream.

"Are you okay, Lady?" the guard questioned giving her a confused gaze "The king is waiting for you" Lancelot and his instructors walked down the hall until his small figure disappeared, there was no need to see the king...But still, it was inevitable. Trying to compose herself and not to cry or be in commotion, Oliveira got into the King's office. Being in Cradle for more than a year taught her a lesson: in terms of magic, it was better to let it flow.

"Welcome young Lady. I'm the King of hearts" the man was blond but his eyes were not blue, perhaps Lancelot was more like his mother, though her father-in-law was a handsome mature man. Oliveira lost herself thinking about how Lancelot would look like in his late 40's "The royal doctor told me you don't remember more than your name, I'm deeply sorry for that, however, your tiara indicates you're a royal and you're going to be treated as one until you remember where you belong to."

"Of course it indicates royalty, it's your army's tiara and I'm your son's future wife." Oliveira thought at the same time her hand touched the fine piece of jewelry, they provided another dress for her to be comfortable but the tiara remained in her head "If you're a royal you must use it with pride" said the doctor when she denied to use it with the casual outfit.

The meeting with the King ceased too soon thanks to the Queen of hearts, for god's sake...that man was incredibly gorgeous. "Lady Oliveira, you'll have food and your room. What you do in your free time is up to you, I recommend to rest and try to remember something."

Despite the King's words were polite and almost kind she was not stupid. They considered Oliveira a threat but as they knew the young lady was a royal they had to treat her well enough to avoid a war with another country.

°°°

The next week consisted in her reading every book about magic in the library, nothing related to the "stargazing" festival or even magic to travel through time but something caught her eye "meaningful magic" or magic with purpose, it was the type of natural magic that had a specific purpose, sometimes it was as simple as a coincidence but in other cases, it was powerful and unpredictable, the point behind this kind of magic was to accomplish a mission or objective in the person's life.

Oliveira had to options: to believe in meaningful magic or to forget about her previous life, the answer was easy. What her purpose could be? another easy question. Her eyes darted the library's window, right in the garden a little kid was practicing fencing as disciplined and serious as a grown-up man "Make you happy is my mission, my Prince".

Oliveira decided to go out to take a sunbath and maybe have the chance to get close to the blond Prince that melted her heart; he was cute, pretty as a doll, small, soft, sweet "Do our kids would look like him?"

"Your kids with who, Lady Oliveira?" a feminine voice asked, oh shit. Oliveira tried to form a coherent excuse in her mind, then she remembered her wedding. Grinning she raised her hand and kept on playing the lady with no memory facing Lancelot's mother. Yes, Lancelot resembled her mother, even in that cold expression.

"Mrs. Kingsley" she bowed to show respect "I don't remember more than my name but this ring is an engagement one. I guess someone is waiting for me" it was not a lie, Lancelot was waiting for her, worried as hell but it was better not to think about that, her lover was strong "And I want to have beautiful and talented kids, just like Prince Lancelot, with that person." Lancelot's mother looked at her kid, no changes in her expression.

"I see you're quite fond of my son, I presumed you were plotting against the heir but now I know you're just mesmerized by the idea of having kids." the stunning woman dressed in fine materials spoke again "I'm too busy to pay attention to Lancelot but you have plenty of time, don't you?" with that she parted to an unknown place. The King's wife has duties but how cold-hearted you needed to be to ignore your kid?

That day Oliveira had dinner with Lancelot, it reminded her the first days in Cradle. The conversation didn't flow until she spoke about animals, a little nerd of tigers he was and see him with those big blue eyes shinning was everything "I know you're pretty busy but if you don't mind I would like to accompany you"

"Do as you please, Lady Oliveira" his soft voice echoed into the dining room. Deep down his cold expression, a marvelous heart remained untouched, some things never change.

°°°

Another week had passed and Oliveira was almost Lancelot's nanny. Sure, it was not easy but she handled adult Lancelot, nothing on earth could be more difficult than that. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, the royal chefs where not in charge of his foods anymore, she prepared fun and nutritive meals. Slowly the walls that kept Lancelot isolated from the world started crumbling; by the third day of the week she started reading stories for him before sleep, by the fifth day both were practicing fencing, Jonah's lessons were quite useful and by the seventh day, Lancelot smiled to her kindly.

A smile from the ice prince. It was better than gold, was she making him happy? She missed her old life, she missed her boyfriend, her friends but kid Lancelot...needed to be loved for the time the meaningful magic determined.

"Lady Oliveira, are you going to practice today?" approaching Lancelot was a hard task but his child version was more easy-going than his adult self for obvious reasons.

"Of course, this time I'll win." was it humiliating to lost in front of a kid? Yes, but that kid was incredibly good with the sword, so it was understandable. Nor the King or his wife went to the training field to look for their kid if she needed to think about there were days where Lancelot was left alone with his instructors and maids. If it was painful for her...how painful could it be for a little kid?

After a hard swordplay practice with the prince, she asked for a break while Lancelot glanced at her with that cheeky smile he displayed sometimes "You're mean, you now that? Let me win at least once"

"If I let you win once...how could you learn to be better?" and there he was, Lancelot being Lancelot. It was cute to see him saying serious things being just a baby, Oliveira's heart was under regular attack.

"Touché. I'm going to make your dinner, my dear Prince. Wait for me, okay?" she found herself enjoying cooking for Lancelot back in the past when she attempted to make him eat something. Food is necessary but also could be heart fulfilling. The little Prince fidgeted wanting to say something, his instructor remained quiet as always.

"What is it, Prince Lancelot? Do you want to request a special dish?" Lancelot eluded her sight, his cheeks blushing "Do you mind if I help, Lady Oliveira?"

And that was the beginning of a delightful routine for them, under the astounded eyes of the army staff members Prince Lancelot was smiling again, being the kid he was. His mother paid some visits sometimes and the King checked the prince's training but nothing more, they ignored his other activities and likings.

°°°

"Tomorrow I'll go to town, do you need something Prince Lancelot?" Oliveira said while preparing to read a story that night, Lancelot didn't need anything so shook his head. She has been living in the red army for three weeks, she kept on acting as the lady without memory but anybody seemed to be annoyed by that, it was quite the opposite; the King seemed pleased of how Oliveira treated the Prince.

Taking the big red book in her hands Oliveira noticed something opening her eyes in realization, it was the same book where she found Lancelot's picture. How silly of her not to notice that before. "Is there a problem, Lady Oliveira?"

"No, no prince." she smiled at him with her eyes full of tender love. The boy using red pajamas made himself comfortable.

°°°

Cradle was different from the past or the present or whatever, Oliveira got easily confused with all that time traveling thing, nevertheless, the city remained charming preserving the mystic air that made Cradle...well, Cradle. The real intention behind going to the city was to find a present for the Prince, it was weird not to see toys in a boy's room but it was Lancelot's room after all.

The maids were busy gathering the food for the next week so Oliveira walked by herself around Cradle looking for the perfect present, the options were almost infinite but nothing so special, not at least for her beloved little prince, anyway she was far to give up. Of course, love was so much more than a present but something was true, a simple gift can be like the magic that brought her back in the past: meaningful.

After a whole day in the civic center, she was ready, the gift was perfectly wrapped on a golden box with a huge ribbon on top. Lancelot and Oliveira were the main attraction in the red army headquarters, perhaps soulmates no matter their age, were bright when they were together.

For the bride-to-be, that day felt different, was it the anticipation for Lancelot's gift, or was it something more? however, she shook her head and after a wonderful homemade diner for two, both walked to Lancelot's room where the gift was awaiting over his bed. The expression of his round pretty face was memorable "I hope you like it"

Oliveira expected that adorable expression in his face after seeing the giant albino tiger plush, but never expected the kid's answer was a hug, his eyes were closed as his hair was messier than usual, Oliveira couldn't resist and kneeled before him hugging the little prince too "Did you like it?" Lancelot just nodded, he was warm, soft, and smelled like a baby if that made sense. Time stopped in that instant, nothing else matters than the feelings contained in that innocent hug "Prince Lancelot, you deserve happiness and infinite amounts of love. Never forget that."

Lancelot didn't say anything else before went to bed, his sleepy face showed a smile while his body embraced the fluff copy of Shine. It was love what Oliveira felt for that kid, she wanted to treasure the moment, she wanted to keep in her memory his voice, his smile, the expression when they were together practicing fencing or cooking.

"You don't know how much I love you, my little Prince. You're the kindest thing that ever happened to me."

That night Oliveira slept thinking about Lancelot, the prince, the king, the lonely man, the serious kid, the shattered person, her lover, her world, her reason to be strong, her reason to give it all to immerse him in eternal love.

°°°

"She's waking up! Call the King" her eyelids were heavy and she recognized the feeling back when she traveled to the past, was everything all right? "Oliveira, are you okay? Do you feel good?"

"K-Kyle?" There, looking at her with a worried expression was the royal doctor, her friend "What happened?" the dizziness in her head made everything blurry.

"You fainted after the dance with Lance. Have you been overworking yourself again?" Oliveira shooked her head slowly, she was in a strange house resting in a comfortable bed. Her dress the same she was using in the festival "I came back..." the girl murmured closing her eyes again just to see a perfect picture of Prince Lancelot.

"Was everything a dream?" She thought with a hefty sigh.

"Yes, that's it. You came back and Lance will be happy. The poor man almost faint with you..." Kyle said with a relaxed smile. When Oliveira fell unconscious Lancelot was startled, a citizen offered her house for Kyle to check on the girl, there was no explanation, perhaps Oliveira was just tired or her corset was too tight.

"Kyle..."

The young doctor stopped in his tracks when Lancelot spoke, the King's eyes full of expectation "Fine, fine...I'll leave you two alone. Don't overwhelm her, Lance." He just remained quiet and approached to his fiancee in a graceful motion, his slender cold fingers traced a line in Oliveira's jaw until reaching her soft hair, Lancelot took a seat close to her "How are you fee-" Oliveira interrupted him with a needy kiss "I'm okay my love, don't worry...Don't worry".

°°°

It was dreamlike, all eyes were on them waiting for the great King of hearts' vows. It seemed like he couldn't believe his eyes, Lancelot Kingsley getting married. Oliveira's knees were shaking slightly and her eyes were on the verge of dropping tears, both holding hands.

Never in his wildest dreams something like that happened, was it reality or mere fantasy? Oliveira smiled containing her tears of happiness, Lancelot cleared his voice and the words emerged almost like a love song.

"You're the kindest thing that ever happened to me. Now my lips have your taste in them, my skin has your caress tattoed and my heart beats at your voice's tempo.

You're like the rain on a drought, rain falling over buds making them flourish. Oliveira, I promise to make you immortal in the land of my memory if you love me until my last breath."

And that was all, Oliveira was crying gracefully during the rest of the ceremony, luckily for her, the makeup was waterproof. The exchange of rings took place and a round of applause filled the church.

"You can kiss your wife, King Lancelot." and he did so as if that kiss was his last.

"Cheers for the couple", "Congratulations King", "Take care of Alice", "Have a life full of happiness", "We're expecting a little prince soon", "Don't let him go, Oliveira".

People from both armies were happy, the day was full of light and love "I'll make you happy forever, my King." Oliveira said walking hand to hand going right to the wedding party.

°°°

In the silence of the night the couple, Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley made it to their shared bedroom. Lancelot left the room to prepare the bath, the plan was to relax taking a long romantic bath together and getting ready...For the wedding night.

Oliveira crossed the room after seeing the red big book over the nightstand "was it a dream?" she bit her lip opening the book to see the beautiful picture inside, Lancelot and his plush. Delicately she took the picture in her hand but then the picture fell off to the floor on its backside.

"You're the kindest thing that ever happened to him" Was written in perfect cursive handwriting. Oliveira took the photo in her hands wondering who would have written that.

"Is everything all right Oliveira?" asked Lancelot before running to hug his wife from the back "Oh, the picture. That's my father's handwriting" Lancelot paused "My childhood was not perfect, I hardly remember my mother or father being there for me...but this picture is special." He was opening to her, Sirius was right "I don't even remind her face or her name...but a Lady gave that plush to me, for the first time someone loved me, showed me a hint of what happiness is."

"Lance..." and more tears rolled down Oliveira's face before a gentle warm kiss took place "Don't cry my love," said the King of hearts "Come with me, I'll make you...cry for a different reason" using an insinuating tone Lancelot undressed his wife caressing her naked figure and downing her mouth with wet kisses. It was just the beginning of a life together.

#Lancelot Kingsley #king of hearts #Ikemen #Ikemen fanfic #Ikerev #ikemen revolution #Ikerev lancelot #Lancelot x MC

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fallen029 · 3 years

Text

It’s been a bit. Here’s half of the new Elemental chapter (because no, I haven’t abandoned it).

Erza Scarlet was known, among other things, for the many outfits she donned. From suits of armor to the most extravagant dresses, she was rarely seen in something out of fashion. Her style ranged from imposing to seductive in her younger years, but currently she seemed far more enamored with the less flashy. More sensible.

Her most recent armor update suited her just fine most days. While it wasn’t too flashy or expensive, it had a formal look to it. Not all would see it, but whenever she caught her image in the mirror, she felt as if she’d finally once more transitioned into something else, transformed, perhaps, now into her final form.

She was the Master now. Of the most elite guild in the land. The one she’d been raised in and raised up to the level it now proclaimed. Fairy Tail belonged to her and while she still held her former placement in her heart, she was finding, as she approached a year of being Master, it meant far more.

There was, however, an unfortunate amount of busy work that she found herself stuck with at times, things that she would have never considered when first coming into power. She’d always seen Master Makarov or Laxus sitting around mostly, drinking or snoozing, but this usually took place because they were choosing to be derelict on their duties. In the former’s case, shirking them off on Mirajane and, in the latter, her daughter.

Master Erza didn’t wish to leave that sort of legacy. Memory. She hoped to always been seen busy and that meant taking care of paperwork, looking over the bar, and dealing in petty drama that most masters would balk at.

But this wasn’t to say that she didn’t rely, at least somewhat, on an assistant of her own. Marin was already well versed in most Master duties, as she’d more than walked her father through them for the past few years, and while Erza would never place so much on the teen’s shoulders, she did expect much of her protege.

Which is why it was harder than the swordswoman would have thought, to be without her for those few days. Marin was always up at the bar, as much a fixture as the wrought iron gates, and seemed to enjoy the tasks that her new master gave her. They’d become quite the pair as, in some ways, they both found themselves adjusting to their new lives.

Marin didn’t fully replace what Erza had lost, in Ravan and Kai, of course not. And she was certain she did little to ease the young woman’s thoughts in relation to her own strained family ties. But they’d formed something of a bond themselves, over the past few years, and there was some comfort that was gone now, without her being around.

It was silly, Erza knew, as she’d been the one to send Marin off on her very first job. Not to mention she’d only been gone for a day. But that second one, when she arrived at the bar with only Kinana there to open, she did find herself frowning a bit more than usual.

Still, she was sure, it was a good thing, Marin being gone. Of course it was. Pretty soon, she’d fall in love with the concept of adventure and using her magic to aid in this, and would hardly ever be around. She was certain the feeling would take hold of the teen. To have such power as Marin possessed, and to waste it away at the bar…

She was glad that she’d sent the girl away, off on her first real job, and yes she was now doing paperwork all alone, but it was just as well.

If Marin really did find herself tangled up in mage work, she’d be alone a lot more often.

She was seated in her office that morning, looking over some papers and considering things, when there was a sharp knock at the door. It was Kinana, calling out in a rather tense voice that Mirajane had arrived home from her trip and was inquiring about Marin.

It was something she’d prepared for, in the past few days. In her time keeping something of a mentorship over Marin, she’d known the teen’s parents to be...apprehensive over most things. While the two were quite accomplished, Mirajane and Laxus had seen how power could corrupt and usually sought to keep Marin far from it.

So Erza wasn’t expecting much of a warm response to her news. From either of them. And while tussling with Laxus was far from something she was looking forward to, she was also aware that the man seemed to avoid the hall like the plague in those days, mostly, and it was for the best.

His wife was always far easier to reason with.

Honestly though, the couple had been going through a lot the past year (if not the decade) and Erza was thankful, anyways, to see Mirajane seeming so upbeat, though perhaps a bit concerned. She’d arrived knowing that her daughter should have been around. For Kinana to require Erza to explain Marin’s absence, well…

“Mira,” her technical Master now, Erza, remarked as she came to stand before the woman at the bar. “How was your trip?”

“Good,” the other woman remarked slowly. “But Marin-”

“You look well,” Erza offered with a nod. “Well-rested. You know, since becoming Master I haven’t had a chance to travel myself, but-”

“Master,” Mirajane cut her off and the word felt odd, it had the entire year, as it fell off her tongue. There was a period in time where it was one she frequently found herself utilizing, in a rather endearing tone (usually), but that had died off under her husband’s reign. To now use it once more, in reference to someone who was once her rival/equal felt sacrilegious. “Where’s Marin?”

Rather than look off, Erza met the other woman’s eyes as she said simply, “In your absence, a simple task presented itself for her to assist in and, as a show of faith towards her recent prowess, I chose to send her off to complete it.”

Not exactly deflating, but at least being relieved a bit to find nothing had befallen her youngest, Mirajane questioned simply, “Is it something...difficult?”

“I wouldn’t think so, for her, no,” Erza replied carefully. “Just escorting a rather low level individual from one place to another. An Exceed.”

“O-Oh.” Mirajane let out a slight sigh of relief. “Just one of the Exceeds? Well, I wish she’d have waited until her father and I were home, but-”

“She’s groan now,” Erza offered simply. “There’s not much you can do.”

“No,” Mirajane agreed, “I suppose not.”

It should have been fine from there. Erza could go back to sorting through paperwork and Mirajane could take over worrying about when her daughter would return home, but unfortunately there was someone waiting back there for her. Someone who’d spent an equal amount of time anxiously awaiting a daughter’s return as he had shirking paperwork duty onto someone else.

“Marin coming by for lunch?” Laxus asked in what may have sounded disinterested, but Mira could tell from his tone that he was certainly optimistic. He was where she left him, unpacking their bags in their bedroom, but dropped what was in his arms ads he looked to his wife in anticipation.

They’d grown far closer, in recent times, he and his youngest. She’d always been distanced from him, in a way that his oldest, Haven, wasn’t. Marin was reserved and meek, which was hard to rectify in his eyes. His childhood had been tumultuous and difficult, making it hard for him to always connect with her.

But that had all changed that following summer, when all of the turmoil in their family had come to a head. Marin now saw him frequently, multiple times a week, just to visit, and he thought of these times as some of the best currently.

Marin had always been the baby of the family, both in the technical sense and how they treated her overall, and though she was now rather self-sufficient, Laxus was perhaps overindulging in all that he’d lost out on.

He wanted to be around her. To listen to her. To just see her. As often as he could now. Sober now. In the moment and aware. He’d lost so many years to feeling sorry for himself; he wanted all of the ones he had now.

Which is why when his wife tried to calm him, after failing to inform him of their daughter’s recent trip in a way that wouldn’t incite him, the man was far too agitated for her typical techniques. There was no amount of rubbing at his shoulders or speaking a hushed tone was going to bring him back down.

It had been a bit, since the slayer had been a frequent, haunting figure in Fairy Tail. A good decade of him drinking himself to death had preceded now and, while some of the newest of members only knew him as the defamed former master, all were sure to keep their thoughts to themselves when he came barreling into the hall that day.

Maybe it had been a long time coming.

For him and Erza.

He’d left the guild in her care until his return, but upon his return, had balked at reclaiming what was his. There had been an expected blow out and perhaps even a premature taking of sides, but that winter when the slayer showed his face, there wasn’t so much as a scuffle and the idea faded from most’s minds. If anything, as Laxus and Mirajane spent more time at home, their presence and factoring into daily guild life ceased to exist.

But everyone knew who he was and what it meant as the clouds darkened that late morning to the darkest of black and perhaps a bit of thunder could be heard, roaring in the distance as he threw open the guildhall doors.

Laxus was pissed.

In a way he hadn’t been since a year ago, when the hall looked a little different and was run even more so. His wife was hot on his tail, hissing at him now, in a way that she hadn’t either, in a year, and an uneasy hush fell over the bar as everyone feared they were the one that the veteran mage was looking for.

Everyone except for Ajax.

He’d been very busy bragging up some of his accomplishments to some of the slightly too old for him ladies in the guild, trying to win their favor, but as everyone’s gaze fell to the storming in slayer, he felt a bubble in his chest.

“Uncle,” he called out as he rushed right over to where Laxus was cutting through the nearing noon crowd, coming to bounce in front of him. Even as he aged, the man was a brute, especially now that he’d begun a training regimen once more, and though Ajax could hold his own against the other teens, his uncle had no reason to stop for him. Other than the fact he was his only nephew, one of the very few people he could tolerate. “What’s up?”

Laxus wasn’t in the mood for the teen though and only shoved right passed Ajax, continuing on until he was at the bar.

“Erza,” he growled, loudly, and others were rising to their feet now, ready for the fabled battle between two titans of the guildhall, for the fate and future of the guild the prize.

The woman emerged with her head held high, not quaking in fear at the sight of the slayer’s dark eyes. In fact, she met them with her own, though not angry, still having that hard steel look to them.

“Laxus,” she greeted with a nod. “It’s rare to see you in the hall today. If there is something you wish to speak on-”

“You sent my daughter out on a job?”

“I was presented with someone who wished for the presence of a Dreyar on their job,” Erza replied simply. “You were out, your oldest daughter is gone, and Marin is the only one left baring the name.”

“Marin,” he retorted, “is a goddamn child who’s never been out on her own before. And yet you-”

“Laxus,” Mira cautioned. “You really shouldn’t-”

“Marin is an adult. In ever sense of the word.” Erza did let out a slight sigh then, though not necessarily one of understand. More of pity. “And she has been for quite some time.”

“You know what the fuck I mean,” Laxus said with a snort. “Don’t play dumb.”

“Then you do not do so either. No one knows Marin better than I.” Turning from him slightly, Erza looked up as she remarked, “Of course I would know when she was while

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themattress · 4 years

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Rewatch: My Bride is a Mermaid Ep 25 - 26

Woah. Shit got real in these final two episodes!

Episode 25: The Family Game

The start of the episode reveals that Akeno and her superior have been getting their orders from Lord Yoshio Minamoto, a mer-noble who has a fearful grip on the mer-government and can use it for his own benefit...in this case, to break up Sun and Nagasumi so that he can take Sun for his bride. But because his government subordinates have failed to deliver, this spoiled frat boy is stepping in personally with a scheme to make sure he gets what he wants.

Akeno is to seize on a moment of friction between Sun and Nagasumi to invite the whole Seto Gang to his palace, allegedly for a party full of important merpeople. That moment comes when a basic argument over Nagasumi putting his socks in the laundry while they’re inside-out escalates to the point where Nagsumi and Sun have to confront the fact that their engagement is based on coercion: it was the only way either of them could stay alive. This creates a new emotional distance between the two, especially when Nagasumi stubbornly refuses to apologize. And then....Sun and her family disappears from his life entirely.

While we know that it’s due to Yoshio’s invitation, Nagasumi doesn’t. The whole montage where he goes to various locations he and Sun have been together in the past only to find her absent now, culminating when he enters her empty room and breaks down crying, apologizing to Sun and begging her to come back...damn, that was powerful. The last two episodes already amped up the emotional sincerity, and these two just run with it, with the actual jokes being few and far between when compared to the drama, which intensifies once Yoshio’s so-called party is revealed to be a trap and all of the Setos are knocked out.

Kai and Lunar manage to find out what’s going on, with Lunar’s horrified reaction and her description of how many girls have gone missing while attending Yoshio’s “parties” selling the fear of the situation, while also being heartwarming in how her immediate response is “Sun is in danger!” and dashing off with Kai to mount a rescue. She loves her rival so much. And speaking of rivals who care, Kai doesn’t hesitate in seeking to include Nagasumi in the rescue mission, with his response to Nagasumi’s later vow to go out and get Sun back being “Those are the exact words I’ve been waiting to hear!” Like I said in the last post, Kai has truly grown into a more honorable person (as has Chimp, who is helping him as always).

And if all of that wasn’t heartwarming enough, Nagasumi’s vow only comes after he gets encouragement from Mawari, who tells him that he needs to be honest with his feelings and act upon them, to not give up on his true love. It is also hinted again that Mawari is well aware of the whole mermaid factor at play, but says nothing out of love and respect for everyone. Mawari Zenigata truly cannot have her praises sung loud enough, she is just that awesome.

The ending montage gets you ridiculously pumped to go straight into the next, and final, episode, with the music playing being the most epic the show has ever had as it plays over shots of every character in the show in their current positions. Let’s end this with a bang!

Episode 26: The Place You Go Home To

Right off the bat, we’re ending it with several bangs, as Kai’s submarine must navigate a minefield set up to defend Yoshio’s undersea lair. The awesomeness kicks in immediately when Lunar uses her siren scream to decimate the mines, declaring “I’m the songstress of the Edomae! DON’T UNDERESTIMATE ME!” She, Kai and Nagasumi will stop at nothing to get Sun back, and their true love of her is contrasted perfectly by Yoshio’s repulsive lust. In the manga, Yoshio was a very different character and his desire for Sun had more to do with a religious factor and a hunger for power. But the anime version of him is the most vile kind of guy possible: a sociopathic frat boy who sees women as objects whom he mind-wipes with a magical artifact before having his way with them and grooming them into his loyal slaves. He is a misogynistic rapist and a person with power who gleefully abuses it, and it makes him the most loathsome character in the show without question. You really want to see him go down.

Once the heroes invade Yoshio’s lair, they are met with an army of guards who clash with the army of Mikawa Conglomerate workers Kai brought along. Lunar assists with her song of war, which again turns things into a bloodbath but one that Nagasumi can easily slip away from to reach Yoshio. Yoshio sends Akeno to face him, since her swordsman’s code says that she cannot disobey a mer-noble’s orders. But ever since she discovered the truth about how Yoshio “woos” the women he lusts after and that he intends the same for Sun, Akeno has been struggling to keep to this code, and it only takes Nagasumi reminding her about the reason she first became a swordsman to get her to switch sides and fight alongside him.

Yoshio unleashes both his trio of giant pet eels and his entire fraternity, but then we get a sequence of awesomeness upon awesomeness as everyone comes in to get a badass moment. First it’s Gozaburo and the rest of the Seto Gang, a moment that concludes when Gozaburo knocks down an eel and, seeing the fierce determination Nagasumi has to save Sun, tells him “you’re a Seto now” and throws him a yakuza jacket as he urges him to go rescue his daughter. Then it’s Lunar, Kai and Chimp catching up, with Lunar using a siren scream to blow the frat away and an injured Kai (supported by his faithful Chimp) also urging Nagasumi to go save Sun. Then it’s an injured Akeno using the nature of the Morning Star blade to her advantage and having Ren (who is the one supporting Akeno because Ren is a fucking goddess among women) use her siren scream on it, which magnifies it enough to knock down another eel. And then it’s, out of nowhere, Papa fucking Edomae (still in the schoolgirl outfit because he’s grown comfy in it) dropping from the sky and taking out the last eel, then tag-teaming with his daughter to take on the reconvening frat. It’s just amazing, and it leads into the climax of the episode when Nagasumi finally reaches the room where Sun is being held and confronts Yoshio, who is ready to kill him with his superior merman strength.

Nagasumi stands no chance against Yoshio in a straight 1-on-1 fight, but he doesn’t care, all he cares about is snapping Sun out of her trance. Yoshio brags that nothing can accomplish that, but Nagasumi pours out all of his feelings for Sun, shouting how he loves her and can’t imagine ever living without her. This does it, and with her mind restored, Sun verbally eviscerates Yoshio for being the pathetic third-rate scum that he is. Full of misogynistic rage and toxic masculinity, Yoshio aims to shoot Sun dead, but Nagasumi takes the bullet. And yet he is unharmed, because just being with Sun, simply standing by her side as lovers and as equals, fills him with unlimited power - the Power of Love! With Sun now intentionally directing her love as energy to power Nagsumi up, Yoshio gets the beatdown he deserves.

As awesome as this is, I still have one minor quibble about translation issues in this scene. Sun’s altered catchphrase comes back to bite the show’s butt when Nagasumi tells Yoshio what it is that makes a real man - in Japanese, it’s ninkyo, aka chivalry, which is displayed on screen as text when he says this. But in the dub, it’s “Honor Among Thieves”. Huh!? So all real men must be thieves? Things get more absurd when Nagasumi gives Yoshio his final beatdown, the text of the Japanese title Seto No Hanayome appears with each punch for some reason, and I guess that reason got lost in translation because we instead get Yoshio screaming “My! Bride is! A! MERMAAAAAAAID!” to get the same effect of a title drop in this moment. There is no reason in context why he would say this, as he had already given up on Sun as a bride and had attempted to kill her, so it just ends up as a huge “WTF!?” moment.

Anyway, Yoshio is defeated and his true form is exposed: a lowly catfish. All of the fear he inspired and thus the power he had is instantaneously gone with this revelation, allowing Akeno’s superior to legally indict him for his crimes. Nagsumi finally apologizes to Sun for the argument and says that from now on he wants their engagement to be something they chose for themselves. And so, taking out the ring he got her in episode 2, he asks Sun if she’ll marry him. Of course Sun says “Yes”, and as the original ED credits song plays, they embrace.

There’s a gag scene before the credits of life returning to normal except for Nagasumi now insisting on remaining in “buff mode” which makes all the routine interactions with the other characters more ridiculous, but after the credits we get a still-frame of Sun and Nagasumi’s earlier embrace, so for all intents and purposes that’s the note this show ends on: two kids from two different worlds who, against all the many, many obstacles, found true love together.

There’s one more post about the series to go, but my experience of actually rewatching the show is over with. And let me tell you - it’s been a great revisiting that I do not at all regret.

#My Bride is a Mermaid #Opinion #Analysis

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thisiswhatwereupagainst · 5 years

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An assortment of little-known Marvel characters that I like! Info on them under the cut:

Aqueduct - Peter Van Zante was a soldier in Vietnam who gained his aquakinetic abilities from an experimental medical procedure that saved his life. He originally called himself The Water Wizard and tried to use his powers for simple robbery, but was stopped by the Ghost Rider, who traumatized him so badly that he spent time afterwards in a mental institution. However, he did not change his villainous ways, and later joined Force of Nature, a quartet of supervillains who each had an elemental power and worked as the muscle for a group of eco-terrorists. He renamed himself Aqueduct with them, and has gone by it since. Aqueduct is not a bright man, that’s probably fortunate, as his water powers could be far more lethal if he had more ideas on how to use them effectively. He’s also moody, being very down on himself when he fails, and euphorically egomaniacal the second he starts to win. Overall though, he seems happier since he quit his solo act and joined a team! Asp - A longtime member of The Serpent Society and later the B.A.D. Girls, The Asp hails from Egypt, and is a mutant with the ability to fire what she calls “venom bolts”– a unique form of radiant bioelectricity that she can channel as lightning-like blasts that causes a rapid paralysis of the nervous system similar to the effect of the neurotoxic bite of certain venomous snakes. Asp’s real name is allegedly Cleopatra “Cleo” Nefertiti, but given that she is also an exotic dancer in addition to a mercenary, it is likely this is a stage name. Though she is often a villain, Asp is still articulate, polite, intelligent, proud of her dancing, and a loyal friend. Black Mamba - Another member of the Serpent Society, as well as a B.A.D Girl alongside her best buddy Asp, Black Mamba aka Tanya Sealy (who has also used the alias of “Tanya Sweet”) gained her succubus-like Darkforce powers when the Roxxon company augmented her into a superhuman. This granted her the ability to summon “love phantoms”, living shadows that appear as the person that the target loves and desires most, and drain their victim’s life as they embrace them in coitus. Tanya was also given the ability to breathe and otherwise function deep underwater, as Roxxon needed her for an undersea mission, though she’s had little occasion to use this since. Tanya has also worked as a fashion model and professional escort in addition to her supervillainy/mercenary jobs, and was even a superhero in the Women Warriors for a time alongside Asp and Skein. Tanya is a loyal friend like Asp, and considers herself an expert on sex and romance, as well as a great lover of men…and of money! Skein - Sybil Dvorak is a Romanian mutant with the fairly common ability of telekinesis, but due to the fact she can “feel” whatever her telekinesis is manipulating, she refuses to use her powers on anything except soft objects like fur, feather, and fabric. She originally called herself the unfortunate moniker of Gypsy Moth, using fabric wings to lift herself in the air, and attacked high class parties to frighten the rich for fun due her belief that her wealthy actor boyfriend was cheating on her. After his mysterious death left her with his house and money, she nonetheless continued her criminal activities. However, she joined the “good guys” for a short time (and shallow reasons) in the 90s, taking the new codename of Skein, making a new and very revealing costume, and showing a new hyper-sexual, flirtatious, thrill-seeking personality, in contrast to the cold, formal persona she had as Moth. Impala - She’s a mysterious woman from Zambia who is known only by her codename. She has no known superpowers, but is extremely athletic, agile, and skilled in African stick-fighting. Impala is said to be wanted for crimes in her homeland, but she seems to be more simply a thrill-seeking adventurer rather than any sort of villain. For instance, she once joined a fight she had no reason to be in, simply to even the odds, and she aided Asp and Black Mamba simply for the fun of it (making Impala an honorary/temporary BAD Girl too) In addition to loving danger, Impala also seems quite proud of her body, given her revealing costume and the way she taunts other women (such as calling the not-even-overweight Battleaxe “obese one”) who are not as lithe and lean as she is. Dragonfly - Nothing is known about the life of Veronica Dultry before the Maggia altered her for Count Nefaria into one of his Ani-Men to do battle with the X-Men. It is also unknown if her transformation is willing or not. We do later learn that she has an estranged sister, Margaret, who is a famous actress, who tries to take advantage of Veronica when she mutates further into a giant dragonfly-like monster due to absorbing radiation. This transformation is, thankfully, reversed, though Dragonfly has yet to change her villainous ways—or show any actual personality on-panel. Besides her ability to fly with her insect-like wings, Dragonfly can also hypnotize others with a psychic signal that emits from her antennae. Meggan Puceanu - Meggan Puceanu is a British Romanichal mutant with an array of powers, namely control of nature and the four elements, a powerful link to mystical and magical energies, and being an “empathic metamorph” who changes her shape to reflect the feelings and desires of people around her. This last one caused her to be severely physically mutated as a child, and, not knowing she could willfully change her shape, she grew up kept in her family’s camper with only the television for company. As an adult, she took on a beautiful blonde form and join the British superhero team Excalibur, becoming Captain Britain’s girlfriend. Meggan was naive and insecure, and became very dependent on Captain Britain, who often did not treat her well. However, they have both grown considerably since, and the two now have a child. Threnody - Melody Jacobs is a mutant with a unique link to death (hence her codename; a “threnody” is a song of mourning), allowing her to sense when someone is dying, and absorb the release of energy from their passing. What’s more, she can then rechannel this energy as destructive blasts. It seems that this sensitivity to death drove her to insanity, and she was found by Sinister as a delusional, rambling homeless woman. He outfitted her with small “neuro-locks” on the sides of her face helped control her powers, and she regained sanity, but also had to serve him. Seeking to free herself, she attached herself to Nate Grey, and eventually fell in love with him. However, when she became addicted to the death of other people, she found herself feeding on the death energies that clung to Nate Grey due to how his own powers were killing him—and her feeding on him just weakened him further. For his own good, Threnody broke his heart and left him. Her tragedy did not end there, however, for she gave birth to a monstrous child that also needed to feed on death energy. She teamed up with Deadpool so that she could collect the death energy of his kills for her baby, but Deadpool himself ended up killing her child when she tried to murder a pregnant woman for it. Threnody has not been seen since, but wherever she is, it’s doubtful that she is happy. Darkstar - Laynia Petrovna and her twin brother Nikolai were mutants born in the Minsk. Previously it had been the policy of the USSR to kill all mutants, but shortly before Laynia’s birth, they decided that it would be better to use them to serve the state. Thus Laynia and her twin were taken away as newborns and raised, along with a mutant called Ursus who could transform into a bear, at a state facility. Laynia was able to control the Darkforce, enabling her to fly, fire concussive force blasts of darkness, and create constructs out of darkness such as shields or platforms. From this, she took the codename Darkstar, and served Russia as a superhero. She later joined X-Corps and served with them in Paris, where she was killed on a mission. However, as is typical of Marvel characters, she returned to life and has returned to Russia to serve in the Winter Guard, Russia’s post-Soviet superhero squad. Starlight - Dr. Tania Belinsky was a brilliant neurosurgeon in the USSR who struggled with her love for her country and her hate for some of what her government was doing. Though she had no superpowers, she had a secret vigilante identity as the Red Guardian (not to be confused with several other Russian heroes who had this name) and joined the Defenders when she came to America to help Dr. Strange with a brain surgery case. However, she was forced to return by the KGB, who took her to the supervillain known as The Presence (who was also the long-lost father of Darkstar, by the way). He had decided she was his ideal mate, and he exposed her to radiation to give her powers like his own. She gained new powers, such as flight and nuclear blasts and the new name of Starlight, but at the expensive of her free will. Poor Tania was now under the mental thrall of the Presence and served him as both his lover and minion. She eventually freed herself and joined the Winter Guard as a superhero once more. Silhouette Chord - Silhouette Chord was born with the power to control and teleport through shadow. She and her twin brother, who had enhanced strength and reflexes, tried to clean up the streets of their native NYC by infiltrating gangs. After a sting gone wrong, however, Silhouette lost the use of her legs when a policeman’s bullet went through her spine, and her brother became a gang leader for real. Silhouette went the opposite path, joining the superhero team The New Warriors and becoming the lover of fellow member Night Thrasher. She and her brother later discovered that their unique abilities came from being the product of a cult in Cambodia that had sought to create super-powered children through years of selective breeding that would allow them to tap into the mystical energies of “The Well of All Things”. Snowbird - Narya is the half-human daughter of the goddess Nelvanna, part of a fictional pantheon in Marvel called “the Inua” who are associated with the First Nations people of Canada. The Inua are opposed to a group of monsters called The Great Beasts who seek to invade Earth, and Narya was conceived in order to one day battle them. She was raised by Dr. Michael Twoyoungmen, a Native Canadian and the most proficient shaman in Canada, and she grew rapidly to adulthood. She also grew rapidly into her powers, which included flight and the ability to change into any animal native to her homeland. The two were discovered by the Canadian government and offered membership into the superhero team Alpha Flight. They accepted, taking on the identities of Shaman and Snowbird respectively. Mysterious and aloof, Snowbird is easily overwhelmed by the instincts of her animal form, disoriented by bright lights and colors, prefers to hunt her own own food, and was often very overconfident in her own abilities. After The Great Beasts were seemingly all slain, she desired a normal life…yet returned to being Snowbird at the first subsequent emergency. Cybele - Cybele is an Eternal, a race of immortal and super-powered beings who are a cousin race to humans, engineered by the “space god” Celestials. Cybele has been around since Ancient Greece, where she was worshipped as Rhea, Gaia, and other “earth-mother” goddesses. She is a very minor character herself, but is the mother of Thena, an Eternal who chose to become a superhero among humankind. After the death of her husband Zuras, Cybele chose to leave the other Eternals, and dwells alone in a Colorado forest. In addition to the usual myriad abilities of Eternals, Cybele can also block herself from the senses of others, essentially becoming invisible to them, making it easy to keep herself concealed in the nature she so loves. Saturnyne - Hailing from one of the countless worlds within the Marvel multiverse, Opal Luna Saturnyne is the Omniversal Majestrix, Her Royal Whyness, who dwells with Roma the Omniversal Goddess in her Starlight Citadel as her second-in-command and helps her oversee the Marvel multiverse and all its worlds. Not so much on the side of good as the side of order, Saturyne is intelligent, ambitious, and a ruthless cutthroat bureaucrat with no qualms about wiping out an entire world if it is for the greater good of the multiverse…though she does carry a soft spot for the Captain Britain of Earth 616. Sat-Yr-9 - Opul Lun Say-Yr-9 is the evil counterpart of Saturnyne from another dimension. A dictator in her own world, she was overthrown and imprisoned by her people, until she escaped to the dimension of Earth 616. Once there, she killed her counterpart in that universe (Courtney Ross, an ordinary banker and the ex of Captain Britain), took her place, and bedeviled Captain Britain and the Excalibur team ever since. She in particular seemed to have great plans for Shadowcat, whom she was grooming for as of yet unknown purposes until her true identity was revealed to Excalibur. To the wider world, however, she is still believed to be Courtney Ross, and she even became the White Queen of the Hellfire Club under this identity. Aireo - Aireo is an Inhuman who rebelled against King Black Bolt, and was imprisoned for it. Black Bolt’s treacherous brother Maximus, who desired the throne for himself, freed Aireo and a crew of other Inhuman rebels if they agreed to serve him in his schemes, which they did. Aireo was exiled from the Inhuman city of Attilan for this, and joined Force of Nature with the codename “Skybreaker”. While Aqueduct represented the element of water, Aireo/Skybreaker boasted the element of air, being able to fly and manipulate wind. Aireo is haughty, proud, and disdainful of all humanity, as is typical of Inhumans, though he is also quite critical of how his own species runs their world as well. Poor guy just isn’t happy anywhere!

#marvel #marvel comics #marvel fanart #mutants

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