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roach-works · 5 years

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here’s a story about changelings

reposted from my old blog, which got deleted: Mary was a beautiful baby, sweet and affectionate, but by the time she’s three she’s turned difficult and strange, with fey moods and a stubborn mouth that screams and bites but never says mama. But her mother’s well-used to hard work with little thanks, and when the village gossips wag their tongues she just shrugs, and pulls her difficult child away from their precious, perfect blossoms, before the bites draw blood. Mary’s mother doesn’t drown her in a bucket of saltwater, and she doesn’t take up the silver knife the wife of the village priest leaves out for her one Sunday brunch. She gives her daughter yarn, instead, and instead of a rowan stake through her inhuman heart she gives her a child’s first loom, oak and ash. She lets her vicious, uncooperative fairy daughter entertain herself with games of her own devising, in as much peace and comfort as either of them can manage. Mary grows up strangely, as a strange child would, learning everything in all the wrong order, and biting a great deal more than she should. But she also learns to weave, and takes to it with a grand passion. Soon enough she knows more than her mother–which isn’t all that much–and is striking out into unknown territory, turning out odd new knots and weaves, patterns as complex as spiderwebs and spellrings. “Aren’t you clever,” her mother says, of her work, and leaves her to her wool and flax and whatnot. Mary’s not biting anymore, and she smiles more than she frowns, and that’s about as much, her mother figures, as anyone should hope for from their child. Mary still cries sometimes, when the other girls reject her for her strange graces, her odd slow way of talking, her restless reaching fluttering hands that have learned to spin but never to settle. The other girls call her freak, witchblood, hobgoblin. “I don’t remember girls being quite so stupid when I was that age,” her mother says, brushing Mary’s hair smooth and steady like they’ve both learned to enjoy, smooth as a skein of silk. “Time was, you knew not to insult anyone you might need to flatter later. ‘Specially when you don’t know if they’re going to grow wings or horns or whatnot. Serve ‘em all right if you ever figure out curses.” “I want to go back,” Mary says. “I want to go home, to where I came from, where there’s people like me. If I’m a fairy’s child I should be in fairyland, and no one would call me a freak.” “Aye, well, I’d miss you though,” her mother says. “And I expect there’s stupid folk everywhere, even in fairyland. Cruel folk, too. You just have to make the best of things where you are, being my child instead.” Mary learns to read well enough, in between the weaving, especially when her mother tracks down the traveling booktraders and comes home with slim, precious manuals on dyes and stains and mordants, on pigments and patterns, diagrams too arcane for her own eyes but which make her daughter’s eyes shine. “We need an herb garden,” her daughter says, hands busy, flipping from page to page, pulling on her hair, twisting in her skirt, itching for a project. “Yarrow, and madder, and woad and weld…” “Well, start digging,” her mother says. “Won’t do you a harm to get out of the house now’n then.” Mary doesn’t like dirt but she’s learned determination well enough from her mother. She digs and digs, and plants what she’s given, and the first year doesn’t turn out so well but the second’s better, and by the third a cauldron’s always simmering something over the fire, and Mary’s taking in orders from girls five years older or more, turning out vivid bolts and spools and skeins of red and gold and blue, restless fingers dancing like they’ve summoned down the rainbow. Her mother figures she probably has. “Just as well you never got the hang of curses,” she says, admiring her bright new skirts. “I like this sort of trick a lot better.” Mary smiles, rocking back and forth on her heels, fingers already fluttering to find the next project. She finally grows up tall and fair, if a bit stooped and squinty, and time and age seem to calm her unhappy mouth about as well as it does for human children. Word gets around she never lies or breaks a bargain, and if the first seems odd for a fairy’s child then the second one seems fit enough. The undyed stacks of taken orders grow taller, the dyed lots of filled orders grow brighter, the loom in the corner for Mary’s own creations grows stranger and more complex. Mary’s hands callus just like her mother’s, become as strong and tough and smooth as the oak and ash of her needles and frames, though they never fall still. “Do you ever wonder what your real daughter would be like?” the priest’s wife asks, once. Mary’s mother snorts. “She wouldn’t be worth a damn at weaving,” she says. “Lord knows I never was. No, I’ll keep what I’ve been given and thank the givers kindly. It was a fair enough trade for me. Good day, ma’am.” Mary brings her mother sweet chamomile tea, that night, and a warm shawl in all the colors of a garden, and a hairbrush. In the morning, the priest’s son comes round, with payment for his mother’s pretty new dress and a shy smile just for Mary. He thinks her hair is nice, and her hands are even nicer, vibrant in their strength and skill and endless motion. They all live happily ever after. * Here’s another story: Gregor grew fast, even for a boy, grew tall and big and healthy and began shoving his older siblings around early. He was blunt and strange and flew into rages over odd things, over the taste of his porridge or the scratch of his shirt, over the sound of rain hammering on the roof, over being touched when he didn’t expect it and sometimes even when he did. He never wore shoes if he could help it and he could tell you the number of nails in the floorboards without looking, and his favorite thing was to sit in the pantry and run his hands through the bags of dry barley and corn and oat. Considering as how he had fists like a young ox by the time he was five, his family left him to it. “He’s a changeling,” his father said to his wife, expecting an argument, but men are often the last to know anything about their children, and his wife only shrugged and nodded, like the matter was already settled, and that was that. They didn’t bind Gregor in iron and leave him in the woods for his own kind to take back. They didn’t dig him a grave and load him into it early. They worked out what made Gregor angry, in much the same way they figured out the personal constellations of emotion for each of their other sons, and when spring came, Gregor’s father taught him about sprouts, and when autumn came, Gregor’s father taught him about sheaves. Meanwhile his mother didn’t mind his quiet company around the house, the way he always knew where she’d left the kettle, or the mending, because she was forgetful and he never missed a detail. “Pity you’re not a girl, you’d never drop a stitch of knitting,” she tells Gregor, in the winter, watching him shell peas. His brothers wrestle and yell before the hearth fire, but her fairy child just works quietly, turning peas by their threes and fours into the bowl. “You know exactly how many you’ve got there, don’t you?” she says. “Six hundred and thirteen,” he says, in his quiet, precise way. His mother says “Very good,” and never says Pity you’re not human. He smiles just like one, if not for quite the same reasons. The next autumn he’s seven, a lucky number that pleases him immensely, and his father takes him along to the mill with the grain. “What you got there?” The miller asks them. “Sixty measures of Prince barley, thirty two measures of Hare’s Ear corn, and eighteen of Abernathy Blue Slate oats,” Gregor says. “Total weight is three hundred fifty pounds, or near enough. Our horse is named Madam. The wagon doesn’t have a name. I’m Gregor.” “My son,” his father says. “The changeling one.” “Bit sharper’n your others, ain’t he?” the miller says, and his father laughs. Gregor feels proud and excited and shy, and it dries up all his words, sticks them in his throat. The mill is overwhelming, but the miller is kind, and tells him the name of each and every part when he points at it, and the names of all the grain in all the bags waiting for him to get to them. “Didn’t know the fair folk were much for machinery,” the miller says. Gregor shrugs. “I like seeds,” he says, each word shelled out with careful concentration. “And names. And numbers.” “Aye, well. Suppose that’d do it. Want t’help me load up the grist?” They leave the grain with the miller, who tells Gregor’s father to bring him back ‘round when he comes to pick up the cornflour and cracked barley and rolled oats. Gregor falls asleep in the nameless wagon on the way back, and when he wakes up he goes right back to the pantry, where the rest of the seeds are left, and he runs his hands through the shifting, soothing textures and thinks about turning wheels, about windspeed and counterweights. When he’s twelve–another lucky number–he goes to live in the mill with the miller, and he never leaves, and he lives happily ever after. * Here’s another: James is a small boy who likes animals much more than people, which doesn’t bother his parents overmuch, as someone needs to watch the sheep and make the sheepdogs mind. James learns the whistles and calls along with the lambs and puppies, and by the time he’s six he’s out all day, tending to the flock. His dad gives him a knife and his mom gives him a knapsack, and the sheepdogs give him doggy kisses and the sheep don’t give him too much trouble, considering. “It’s not right for a boy to have so few complaints,” his mother says, once, when he’s about eight. “Probably ain’t right for his parents to have so few complaints about their boy, neither,” his dad says. That’s about the end of it. James’ parents aren’t very talkative, either. They live the routines of a farm, up at dawn and down by dusk, clucking softly to the chickens and calling harshly to the goats, and James grows up slow but happy. When James is eleven, he’s sent to school, because he’s going to be a man and a man should know his numbers. He gets in fights for the first time in his life, unused to peers with two legs and loud mouths and quick fists. He doesn’t like the feel of slate and chalk against his fingers, or the harsh bite of a wooden bench against his legs. He doesn’t like the rules: rules for math, rules for meals, rules for sitting down and speaking when you’re spoken to and wearing shoes all day and sitting under a low ceiling in a crowded room with no sheep or sheepdogs. Not even a puppy. But his teacher is a good woman, patient and experienced, and James isn’t the first miserable, rocking, kicking, crying lost lamb ever handed into her care. She herds the other boys away from him, when she can, and lets him sit in the corner by the door, and have a soft rag to hold his slate and chalk with, so they don’t gnaw so dryly at his fingers. James learns his numbers well enough, eventually, but he also learns with the abruptness of any lamb taking their first few steps–tottering straight into a gallop–to read. Familiar with the sort of things a strange boy needs to know, his teacher gives him myths and legends and fairytales, and steps back. James reads about Arthur and Morgana, about Hercules and Odysseus, about djinni and banshee and brownies and bargains and quests and how sometimes, something that looks human is left to try and stumble along in the humans’ world, step by uncertain step, as best they can. James never comes to enjoy writing. He learns to talk, instead, full tilt, a leaping joyous gambol, and after a time no one wants to hit him anymore. The other boys sit next to him, instead, with their mouths closed, and their hands quiet on their knees. “Let’s hear from James,” the men at the alehouse say, years later, when he’s become a man who still spends more time with sheep than anyone else, but who always comes back into town with something grand waiting for his friends on his tongue. “What’ve you got for us tonight, eh?” James finishes his pint, and stands up, and says, “Here’s a story about changelings.”

#long post #writing #fic #autism #changelings #fairies

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inhumanescreeching · 3 years

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in reference to this post, here's my dabihawks love child oc

I'll be using multiple picrews to introduce her and compile all the links I've used at the end, in order of usage for better navigation (i edited some for her eyes). this is gonna be a long post lol rip ur screens

Name: Takami Hidori

Birthday: May 5 (Taurus)

Age: 23

Height: 5'8 ft (roughly 173 cm)

Quirk: Phoenix from the Ashes

I'll start her introduction with a story- I didn't plan her name. On the search for the characters that could translate to phoenix, I stumbled upon hinotori (火の鳥) (after rejecting houhou 鳳凰 out of fear I use it incorrectly/had little knowledge on its usage). I rlly liked hinotori and planned to just use that despite being kinda long, but when copying the characters I accidentally erased the "no" and we're left with Hidori, which is much catchier and literally just means fire bird. i think someone's alr taken this name for their oc- im sorry idek if im right- but my oc is completely unrelated to theirs, if so!!!

Hidori's quirk is powerful, and her eyes symbolize the way Dabi's and Hawks' quirk harmonizes in hers. She inherited Hawks' wings, as well as his telepathic control over them (tho she's not as in sync with said telepathic powers over her feathers as her father, but still). Her bird instincts are kinda watered down tho, and it's mostly just in how her wings either harden (like knives) or soften (like how feathers are supposed to be) depending on her mood. She also inherited Dabi's fire- she can control it, unlike her emitter type dad; she can control the fire's path, strength and can put it out

When she was small, Dabi and Hawks had panicked when she showed signs of inheriting Dabi's fire. Dabi, especially, was scared of their child getting hurt by her power but a trip to the doctor's informed them that while Dabi didn't inherit Endeavor's more fireproof constitution, Hidori did, albeit it's still recessive and only won because Hawks lacked emitter-resistance genes. The doctor promised her body could handle it, and had enough resistance to handle even second degree burns without harm. Dabi still insisted on getting her blockers until she was at least in middle school and Hawks agreed

The biggest kicker of Hidori's quirk is how she got the name. Unlike Hawks who needs a week at most to recuperate from the loss of feathers, Hidori can regenerate up to three times in a single row by burning her wings and letting new feathers grow. Another trip to the doctor's confirmed that this was what her quirk thought was best when combining both of her fathers' quirks and no, neither the Takamis nor the Todorokis have a regeneration quirk in their near family tree

Her best friend (who claims to not be friends in a Bakugo reminiscent way) is Miruko and Shigaraki's child- Seiko. This picture was instigated by Hawks ofc. Hidori barely remembers anymore but apparently she had insisted on wearing the suit if she and Seiko ever got married, and Seiko had even agreed

Seiko inherited most of his mother's traits, and that included her height. By high school, Hidori was alr a head taller than him. Which was fine, he didn't sulk too much about it, he even rides Hidori's back sometimes and calls her a giant... dog. Like best friends do (ill def make another post for seiko lol)

Hidori cuts her hair on impulse one time- during a much due but constantly put off identity crisis. Her fathers let her do as she pleased ofc, Hawks even asked if she wanted to try out dyeing it when they went to the salon (she declined, bc she liked looking like the taller version of Hawks, but he didn't need to know that)

More about her:

- She is very dependable, but at the same time reckless. Sociable, but somewhat closed off. She's all of the best and worst of her fathers lmao

- She is pansexual and genderfluid, fine with any pronouns. She got top surgery later in her life too

- She is an underground hero. Both of her fathers tried to keep her away from anything related to heroism but when she persisted, they supported her

- She got Dabi's stubbornness and Hawks' natural charm, she's a menace when she wants something

- She is spoiled by the Todorokis. Shoto in particular used to steal Endeavor's credit card and buy her ice cream when she was small

- Speaking of, Endeavor really really likes her (he was closed off when he learned about Hawks and Dabi but warmed up to his grandchild soon after). Her dads make sure Endeavor gets as little time with her as possible tho

- She has plenty of aunts and uncles from UA bc of Shoto insisting she gets dropped off when he was still studying. Even now when they've graduated and are heroes, Hidori still receives a ton of envelopes in new years and her birthday

- She's a UA graduate herself, top of her class and class pres

- Tokoyami mentored her during a few work studies!!

- She used to get easily motionsick when she first started flying, but it thankfully got less intense when she started training

- She plays the guitar, often too

- She likes photography, catch her insta looking straight out of a Pinterest moodboard

- Her hair used to be such a mess esp since neither of her dads knew what they were doing. they're naturally curly, but when she grew it out it got less curly due to gravity (true story lmao)

- She used to model. Key words are used to (yes it was for the Bakugos leave me alone)

- She can't stand the cold, she and Hawks uses Dabi as a portable heater during winter

- Auntie Rumi loves to team up with her, if only bc her own child reminds her too much of herself

- She went through the seven stages of cringe grief during her teen years and no i will not elaborate

- She is very artistic, and in her days off work she paints- bc ofc she bought a studio for her art the first chance she got

i am out of thoughts but yea that's Hidori! I'll probably make skits w how dabihawks are like as parents lmao but that's all for now, thx for readin

(picrew 1) (picrew 2) (picrew 3) (picrew 4) (picrew 5) (picrew 6) (picrew 7) (picrew 8)

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sopxhiea · 4 years

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Wicked

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Enemies to Lovers!

Warnings: Large age gap.

Summary: Alfie stumbles upon a very familiar face around Birmingham and he finds his feelings to alter as he watches her.

“Don’t fall in love with me.”

The weather is gentle against the lilies growing around. There are a couple kids running around under the chirpy April weather as the city moves on. The sounds of cars and footsteps fill the humid air while the smell of freshly baked bread escapes the bakery around the corner, inviting any hungry souls with a penny to spare.

The heels of your leather boots create loud thuds against the pavement’s surface while you check your pocket for the watch, eyes scanning the accessory in an attempt to stop time.

It’s a busy day.

There is a small job to be taken care of, a stubborn lad has to be threatened in exchange of some cash. It’s time to take the main road after that, visit the Shelby company to see the familiar man and get as much as you can out of him.

You look like a woman in love.

An outsider could mistake you for a foreigner to this town, your beige coat and airy summer dress compliment your skin as the heavy boots contradict the soft image created by the upper half of the outfit. You look like a kind person from the outside, someone who probably owns a cottage with her husband and lives quietly.

You’re far from that.

Your family business has shaped you into a sharper person than what you would’ve been. It’s made you a person capable of persuading just about anyone whether it’s for a murder case or some expensive jewels.

There’s no point on dwelling on it. You hadn’t chosen the live you were born into, being the only heiress of a gang was not your first choice anyway but you got on with it. You grew up learning how to conceal how you felt, learned to choke a man to death and even came close to doing it once.

An hour passes, you run your pretty mouth by a couple people in search of a name and a sweet little lady gives it to you not too long after. You don’t like to think about how all this thrills you, the reason why you’re so good at it is because you enjoy chasing men down.

Not too long after you visit to the given location, you return to the heart of the area with the information you needed and blood on your sleeve. You hide it by pulling the sleeve of the already oversized coat. You flash smiles, the way to the Shelby company is close.

Sometimes, you think of the past.

It’s a bad habit, you know. It makes you feel stuck, like there is war again and you’re the only hope the family has. There’s the horror of being young and helpless when you dwell on the past, it mostly brings doom and desperation from the painful years that cast a glassy look in your eyes.

But there are parts you don’t wish to forget.

You recall his name, Alfie. He had been a rival of your dad’s for a long time even after he’d passed away. He was relentless, stubborn and much bigger than you were. You were a teenager when you’d first seen him, he was a young man then. You had sworn to him that you’d get taller than he was, both in height and the status he upheld.

He was gentle, had been there all along while your family went through some rough patches that only left you and your little brother on the upper part of the soil that coated this earth. There was an understanding you had with the man, almost like your souls were made of the same parts.

He was the enemy.

You often told yourself that when his name came up in conversations. You didn’t have any contact left with him, the jewish community was on the far end of the city from where your business operated so there was no reason to mess with his area. It had been over four years since you’d seen him, the enemy.

You were grown now, respected and very well known. You knew the business, how the thick headed men operated and you were an expert in getting what you wanted, not the shaky small girl he knew you as.

Walking in the bet shop, you heard Tommy’s assistant call your name. You had been long lost family friends and the business benefited from an associate like the Shelbys. You were older than Finn by a couple months, making most of the people in the shop treat you like a small girl but his assistant knew better.

You were escorted to his room by a brunette woman, she seemed nice enough to let you know that he had another meeting. Her remark made you check your watch, you didn’t have that much time if you wanted to get everything done for the day. Your brother would be waiting for you in front of the factory soon.

Shaking your head, you knocked the door once and entered without the approving sound of ‘come in.

It was hard to comprehend the scene before you.

Tommy was sitting behind his desk, leaning back on the chair in a calm state. There was Finn, a smile spread on his lips when he saw you, he’d been a friend since you were kids. You didn’t return the gesture, your gaze fell on to the new blinder next. He had a similar look to John, just broader and he looked more like he was from Tommy’s mother’s side.

Then you saw him.

It took you a minute, his face was covered in the usual scruff but it was kept in a nicer shape. He hid behind his hat, you recognised the velvet fabric first and the owner of it not too long after. The sight of him with wide eyes, looking directly at you made you swallow while Tommy stood up.

“Y/N.” the Shelby spoke and you returned his gaze with a soft smile. It was half-assed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Tommy spoke once more and Alfie got up, shaking his hand and muttering something into Tommy’s ear. You ignored the rush of excitement that washed over you when he passed by, the smell of vanilla and rum evident when he stopped by to greet you with his hat.

You smiled and spoke with a low hum. “Mr. Solomons.” you murmured as he inspected you.

You were not the little girl he saw in pony tails around the mansion anymore. You had grown up to be a woman, a very beautiful one at that. You didn’t look like your family, they were all average looking people with dangerous stares whereas you were much softer to the eye, it was like inspecting a well-done painting to look at you.

His eyes pierced through yours for a few moments, hand tugging at his beard while he spoke. His voice was all the same. “Lass.” he said, making you frown in the slightest because it made you think that he didn’t remember your name.

You were his rival more than anything. Your company ruled one end of the city and he did the same to the other. There was always hunger for more, wars and murders to make sure everyone stayed in their territory but also deals made behind closed doors to make sure one business controlled all over.

But you’d play nice.

You shook his hand, didn’t reach for your gun and waited a little for him to leave before you got down to business. Your deceased father would tell you to knife his throat if it weren’t for the multiple gang wars that would arise, so you stayed put and let him leave.

Sitting down on the chair in front of Tommy’s table after greeting Finn and learning that the new blinder was indeed Pol’s son, you got to business. There was whiskey drank and deals made as you tried to ease Tommy’s tension behind Alfie’s leave. You didn’t care that the man was stressed but to get what you wanted, you’d have to be patient.

Two hours later, you bid a farewell to the familiar faces and left the building. Walking towards the factory your little brother would pick you up from, you hurried your steps, making the dress swish around your ankles while a car followed you.

You knew who it was.

When the machine stopped right next to you on the side walk, you watched Alfie get out of the soft seats. He had a cane in his hand but he looked the same he did after the war. You looked right at him when he towered above you, no words spoken because you had to be careful with him.

He was the enemy, and had been for longest time.

“Why are you following me?” you spat, feeling warmth radiate off of his body at the close proximity.

He recalled the time you’d said you’d grow taller than him, it brought a smile to his lips as he spoke.

“I remember, yeah..” he said, fingers waving through the air as he spoke. “You were just a small fuckin’ girl then..” he chuckled and you waited for him to finish, arms crossed. “Tellin’ me, yeah, that you’d be taller than me when ya’ grew up.” he said, his smile was infectious but you concealed his affect on you.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” you spat back, ready to have a go at him as a look of pleasant surprise flashed across his face.

You’d always been the one with wits. He recalled the times when your teenager self would bicker with him, the playful banters would grow heated but he’d do nothing much after lewd images of you filled his mind. You were eighteen then, old enough to know what you wanted but young enough to mistake an enemy for a lover.

He knew better.

“You’re still fuckin’ fiesty, eh.” he spoke, nodding as he took the image of you as a grown woman.

“How’s business?” you ask, ready to mock him the minute he answered but he spat back another question.

“How’s Jack? he asked, seeing the slight rise of emotion in your eyes and that was enough for him. He knew your little brother well and knew what you went through to protect him.

“Jack’s fine.” you said, voice stern while amusement filled his blue orbs.

“So is business.” he spoke, answering your question and making the fire in your eyes light up once again.

You nodded, a soft smile on your lips while you uncrossed your arms. He’d seen you grow up even though he was the enemy since your parents had always been a fan of the mantra of keeping enemies closer than friends. He’d been there, casting in the shadows when they’d died, too and he was still there when the business had risen from the ashes you’d picked up.

“’s been some time, yeah?” he said, nodding at his own words while you forgot about your brother and the place you had to be

“It has.” you said, feeling yourself grow comfortable at the familiar conversations. They had been missed, he was the only man who knew how to speak to a woman around here after all, had always been that way.

“You’ve grown.

“You’ve aged.” you spoke, earning a chuckle from his lips. The sound of him was still the same.

He had aged, but like fine wine. It wasn’t the same way you’d seen man around here age, he’d just gotten better looking. He was young when you got to know him, barely had half of his might he possessed now. There were less wrinkles on his face than you’d seen a man his age have, he just looked rugged and you hated that your heart did a little flip every time he licked his lips.

“Got somewhere to be?” he spoke, realising that you had been going somewhere before he held you up.

“I do, actually.” you spoke, your voice was breathy and soft and he wondered how you would sound with his head between your legs. He nodded at your words, you looked at the road before you while he got to talking again.

“Why don’t we go for a cup of tea, yeah?” he asked, much out of the blue as you stared at him with wide eyes.

He was the enemy.

Sure he was attractive and much more pleasant to be around than your brother but your family had spent too much to be where you were. There were too many factors involved and no matter just how badly you wanted to say yes, you knew how to play this game well and that meant brushing arms with the jewish man before you.

He spoke once again before you could start speaking. “For ol’ times’ sake, right, no funny business.” he spoke, refraining from cursing every two words because frankly he wanted to impress you.

He sensed the hesitancy you had, it was only natural that you had doubts regarding the familiar face before you. You smiled first, there were too many ways this could go. He watched as you took in a deep breath, your chest rising as he tried his best to look at your eyes and only, it was amusing.

For old times sake.

“If it’s just for some old company..” you said, liking the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at you. “...you won’t mind Jack being there..” you spoke, knowing very well that he would in fact mind your brother being there.

It took him a minute. Of course he minded. He couldn’t show you that though, things were still pretty fresh in his mind. He remembered the way you’d catch him looking during a business meeting and frown, it made him smile to this day. He recalled the days where you’d spend the hours around his office, trying to find a stable deal for what your father wanted. You’d been young then, smart regardless.

“That’d be fuckin’ lovely, yeah..” he said, pulling at his beard as he watched you inspect him. “Missed the lad myself.” he said, clearly lying.

Jack and Alfie didn’t get along as friends but they were compatible enough to be business partners. They’d always bicker around but the words thrown around were much different compared to when you’d mess around with Alfie. It was more aggressive, not as light-hearted.

You nodded, telling him to come meet you in this coffee shop around the corner from his place. He smiled at your words, you still knew the address. You gave him a couple quick glances, one to look at his face one last time as he blushed under the afternoon sun and one to finally say goodbye.

He watched as you walked towards the car.

-----------

In the span of two hours, you’d managed to scold your brother, score a large deal and make it to the shop. Jack, who was a couple years older than you, was being a pain as usual. He wasn’t so unpleasant to the people you were making business with but he was to you, it was the bond you’d developed after everyone in your family had passed away.

You found yourself sitting in a wooden circle table with Alfie and Jack not too long after. They were chatting about the business, the incomings and the outgoings and all that. You listened intently, realising just now that you’d missed the way Alfie said things, not only because of his accent but his charisma and charm that had been mere illusions when you were small.

Alfie’s eyes landed on you as Jack talked about some deal you’d made just an hour ago. He started speaking about the buyers and the receivers of the deal but Alfie’s focus was solely on you as you poured some milk into the coffee cup. He watched as you stirred, not looking up at anyone and purely living in your own world.

You knew when Alfie had something to ask, he would.

You’d liked that about him. He was honest and blunt, didn’t beat around the bush and said whatever was going on in his mind. You only knew a handful of people who were capable of doing that and most were women.

Your eyes met his at last after a few fidgeting moments from your part. You looked at him, thinking that he’d probably asked something but you were living too much in your head to realise that there had been a real conversation going on in the first place. Your eyes were wide open as you spoke, making him want to giggle.

“Huh?” you said, Jack stopped talking and looked at you. “You said something, Mr. Solomons?” you spoke once again, the addressing him with his surname sting him but he’d be gentle.

“’s Alfie, luv.” he spoke and watched you nod, searching for an answer to your previous question.

“I said, right, do ya’ still got the dog?” he spoke, the question was openly directed at you.

You had a large dog when you were a teenager. It was a great dane, a black creature that would follow you around all the time. Alfie had last seen him in your dad’s office, the thing used to reach above your knee level.

You smiled at the question, he patted himself in the back for seeing your beautiful smile once more after all these years before he listened.

“No. He was getting too old so we put him to rest a couple years back.” you said, a glint of sadness evident in your eyes but Alfie swore that he almost missed it.

You faced him this time, a little more confident and asked him about his dog, Cyril. He told you about how he got bigger, even though he was already impossibly large the last time you’d seen him. The dull conversation then turned into a lively one, you chatted the day up, asking about anything and everything you were curious about until you looked to your right and Jack wasn’t there.

He had excused himself to go take care of some business, even though there was none to take care of currently. You guessed it was because of how intense the talk was between you and Alfie. It ran smoothly but the speed was much harder for an outsider to pick up, so was the sarcasm and the wit.

He also didn’t quite like the way Alfie’s gaze ran along your body from head to toe every now and then.

You weren’t a little girl anymore so Jack couldn’t boss you around, that was why he’d mumbled a small excuse and left you and Alfie alone. You dismissed the thought and kept on asking him about his new home, the one he’d bought in the years of your absence.

“I got them, right, to do the walls in fuckin’ oak.” he said, smiling at the end of the sentence while you chuckled to yourself.

You had missed this.

There had been a voice at the back of your mind this whole time, it was your father’s, warning about not sleeping with the enemy. You had low intentions of maybe kissing the handsome lad who was currently speaking about his new office, you didn’t know if you wanted to take it so far as to sleep with him.

He was the enemy.

There was flour on the his shoe sloes, he smelled of vanilla and rum. His skin was rough, the experience of life gave him a tougher look than the one in his eyes that were directed at you. He made you laugh, it was silly just how giddy this bear of a man was.

You shook your head, nodding along the words he was saying but you’d missed the question and so you were met with curious eyes of the jewish gangster. This was the second time you were daydreaming about him in front of him and a low colour of pink blush rose on your cheeks.

“You’re not the listenin’ type these days, eh?” he spoke, chuckling lowly when you shook your head.

“Sorry, I just..” you breathed out, your voice was much breathier now and he casted a hungry look in your direction. One you decided to ignore.

You didn’t say anything more, the shake of your head was enough to let him know what had been on your mind. He had always been able to see right through you, more so than the people you were related to by blood. You murmured a small excuse, telling him that you needed to leave and he nodded.

You offered him a smile as he continued to talk, both of you standing up now that the night was near. It had been hours of talking and you’d lost track of time. You needed to take care of some things at home and also listen to your brother bitch about how he’d been left out of the coffee talk you had with Alfie.

“I’ll see ya?” he asked while you waited outside the shop, he’d always been the one to address things a little to quickly than the average person.

“Do you want to?” you asked, the game of push and pull was natural in between the two of you.

He chuckled wholeheartedly and you ignored the small smile on your lips formed by the action. “Do I wanna fucking see ya?” he nodded, repeating the question as if it were something he’d never heard of but you nodded like it was common. It made him shake his head and lean closer to you so that you felt his hot breath against your face.

“I would love to fuckin’ see ya, lass, right, and I know, yeah, that you know that fuckin’ well at this point.” he spoke, eyes moving up and down along your body, just enough to make you forget that he was supposed to be the enemy.

You smiled wickedly at his words, you knew that he wanted to, why else would he be looking at you the way he was?

“Well, then..I suppose you know the rule.” you whispered against his face, making him weak in the knees. He was comforted by the wicked ways your mind worked and enjoyed this game all too well.

“What fucking rule?” he spoke, almost rolling his eyes when your lips ghosted over his.

You’d been waiting for this for so long.

“Mr. Solomons, you’re the enemy..” you spoke, seductive enough to earn a grunt of extreme approval from him and he felt your small hands on his chest. “We’re supposed to be hating each other, not flirting in a public setting.” you smirked as he listened you, eyes never leaving your lips.

“Tell me the fuckin’ rule then, yeah, lass, or else I’ll end up takin’ ya’ right here.” he spoke against your lips, you hadn’t kissed him yet but he was already drowning the moment your lips ghosted over his. You pushed him down by the slightest, making sure he wouldn’t do anything funny before speaking.

“As much I like the idea..” you breathed against his face, watching his eyes glisten with want. “..here it goes.” you spoke before listing the rules almost too quietly. You felt his eyes close when he felt you speak against his lips.

“Don’t fall in love with me.” you said, earning a low chuckle from him, he wasn’t gonna have something half his size order him around, no matter how aroused the idea made him feel.

He shook his head at the idea, he couldn’t deny that you were made to love. He’d been intrigued with the idea all those years back as well but you were entirely too young, no matter just how much you toyed with him at times. The age difference was significant still but you were much older now. Certainly not the rosy cheeked eighteen year old he once found amusing.

“Luv, ya-” he stared speaking but you cut him off, taking a step towards the man twice your size as he towered above you.

“Alfie, I don’t mind all the fuss right..” you spoke, very well aware of the fact that you were on dangerous waters but that made it even more appealing. “I don’t mind the sleeping around either. We just need to keep it casual.” you spoke against his face and he swore he would kill anyone to kiss right there and then. But he didn’t.

“Casual aye?” he spoke, mumbling something under his breath that you failed to catch.

You knew it would be hard and that it was a challenge, you knew he loved to love domestically, to show his girl off and worship her. You’d heard things and while all that sounded blissful, you’d have to do it under closed doors. That was the way go when you were sleeping with the enemy.

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy but if you so badly wanna do this..” you swallowed while catching a glimpse of something in his eyes. “We have to be secretive.”

You watched him as he took a good look at you, almost like he was trying to see if doing things behind everyone’s backs would be worth it. Oh, it was so worth it. He tugged at his beard, trying to make some words out without being too blunt, scared of hurting your feelings when things hadn’t even started.

So he didn’t say anything. Neither did you. For a couple minutes, you just stood there, letting the light breeze touch the soft skin of your cheeks and play with the ends of your dress. He watched you while your eyes traveled across his ginger beard, looking like beams of sunlight when the gentle rays hit his face.

A smile formed on your lips while you walked towards him, close enough so that if you whispered anything, he’d be the first one to hear. You looked around, trying to savour the last moments before the soft sounds of your voice filled his ears. You would walk to your car after speaking and he would watch.

“Let me know if you decide to do this.”

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @bicevans @mollybegger-blog

a/n: First piece since being back and I apologise for how long it is. Lemme know if you want another chapter!

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sarahjtv · 3 years

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BNHA Chapter 302 Spoiler Thoughts: Y’all Need Therapy

Part 2 of the story that started last chapter and THINGS GOT WORSE!!! I’m crying through the pain. There’s a lot going on in this one. Lots of guilt, lots of abuse, lots of crying, but thankfully some gleam of hope at the end. A broken family can heal. This is a step in the right direction. Though, I’m already seeing the BNHA fandom going up in flames because everyone’s playing the blame game. I hope I don’t end up accidentally stepping on that landmine after posting this. Here we go (thoughts are based off summary translations by @redandblonde420 on Twitter and panel images are from @BKIS2327 on Twitter!):

(OP Note: Please don’t DM me with your complaints about my opinions on the Todoroki Family matter. It’s bad enough that this storyline has people getting pissed off at each other for taking different sides. The last thing the BNHA fandom needs is more conflict amongst ourselves.)

Chapter 302 picks up where we last left off. Enji and Rei managed to stop Touya from attacking Shoto (it’s not explained how) and the whole family except from them are asleep. Enji tells Rei that he doesn’t want any of the kids anywhere near Shoto anymore in fear that they would try to harm him. Enji also fired a servant because he was so busy at work and he asks Rei to not let Touya out of her sight. The other reason why Enji won’t watch over Touya himself is because Enji’s presence would only be a constant reminder of the hero world to Touya. While Enji thinks he’s protecting Touya, Rei says he’s just running away. A few things here:

1. I get not wanting Touya anywhere near baby Shoto since he did try to kill the tyke. Touya was pretty much bent on his hatred for his little brother at that point that even seeing him stroked his dangerous jealousy. But, I don’t know about Fuyumi and Natsuo. Neither of them showed any hatred towards Shoto (and still haven’t as far as we know). They’ve shown no signs of violence or anything that would imply wanting to hurt Shoto. So, why keep them away too?

2. This is probably going to be the start of me getting shit on by the fandom, but I think Enji and Rei are both right. We saw in the last chapter that Enji did legitimately care for Touya to the point where he tried to convince him to leave his ambitions of being a hero primarily so that he would stop hurting himself. Just Endeavor being there is a reminder of the hero world. Which would only provoke Touya more. And Endeavor can’t just leave his job; he was the #2 after all. At the same time, Enji is running away from the problem by not trying to talk to Touya more and helping him to control his flames at least. He was trying to save Touya from himself, but he was also ignoring the real problem.

3. Side note (and because I just 💙 Shoto), the manga panels show baby Shoto sleeping on his little bed with a frosty snot bubble coming out of his nose 🥺! Not only is it adorable, but it seems like Shoto had his quirk since he was very young.

Time skip 5 years later! This is back when Shoto was being dragged along by Enji while watching his siblings play ball WAY back in Shoto’s Origin chapter what a throwback, Horikoshi (Season 2 Ep. 10 in the anime; I think Chapter 39 in the manga)! Fuyumi is 12 yrs old, Natsuo is 8 yrs old, and Touya is 13 yrs old. So, that confirms that Touya is 1 year older than Fuyumi, Natsuo is 4 years younger than Fuyumi, and Shoto is 3 years younger than Natsuo since Shoto was 5 then. God, they looked so cute back then! I’m honestly amazed how freaking TALL Natsuo is at 8 YEARS OLD! He’s taller than Fuyumi here and probably Touya. Someone put this kid in the Haikyuu!! universe and teach him volleyball! He’d be great, I know it!

We see a few panels of what is basically a remastered version of what we saw during Shoto’s Origin story. Shoto really wanted to play ball with his siblings, but Enji wouldn’t let him 😭. I know Natsuo and Shoto try to play ball in present day in the 5th(?) light novel. Natsuo plays it properly, but Shoto accidentally smacks the shit out of it 🤣. It’s a very bittersweet scene and I suggest you guys read the translations of it if you can find it. *AHEM* Anyway while Shoto is looking at them with sadness, Touya is looking back at Shoto with malice in his eyes. Touya clearly still hated Shoto...

Next, we see Touya trying to talk to Natsuo in bed. While he admits that he was wrong for trying to attack Shoto, he thinks Enji is to blame as well. Ok, Enji lit Touya’s figurative flame, but Enji did not attack Shoto. That was all Touya’s doing. Had he listened to his father and not been so driven to jealousy, he wouldn’t have attacked. Enji did a lot of things, but he did not provoke that attack.

Natsuo was too tired to listen to Touya talk, so he suggested that he talk to Fuyumi instead. Touya thought that Natsuo was the only one who could understand and he didn’t talk to Fuyumi because “all the women in the family were no good”. OKAY, I don’t know if this is straight up sexism or something else, but goddamn Touya. That is-, that’s not okay. At all. Respect women pls, my dude. Hell, Fuyumi and Rei probably would’ve been a good people to talk to back then.

One day, Touya is trying to leave the house probably to go train again. Rei tries to convince him to play with his friends instead, but of course Touya refuses. Because Rei feels shackled to her marriage, she wants Touya to look at a world outside of heroism so he can be someone he really wants to be. This is basically what Enji told Touya before and Rei’s echoing his words. And they are right, but Touya’s too driven to really think of anything else.

Touya gets mad and starts insulting Rei. He says because his mother sold Rei to Enji, she’s conspiring to all of this. Touya’s losing his mind and Rei’s scared of him. I want to point out that one translation I read say that Rei’s mother’s side of the family was actually poor so Rei was actually bought via money like I remembered. But, that doesn’t mean she intended to hurt Touya.

Next panel reveals that Touya was born between Jan. 1st and April. 1st. We know Dabi’s B-Day is on Jan. 18th based off his profile page. Though, this could be a lie for all we know. The guy’s still a big mystery. Anyway, Touya’s fire is growing stronger and finally turns into that iconic blue fire. When his emotions are heightened his flames get more powerful, but he starts crying too. Enji learns of Touya’s secret training and gets mad at him again. Touya just wants to prove that Enji was right for creating him. Touya’s gone completely insane at this point. The fire that Enji lit could not be put out. It was too late at this point.

And the abuse... JFC... Enji was mad at Rei for letting Touya train and he abuses her (looks like he hit her). Little 5 yr old Shoto steps up and tries to stop his father from hurting his mother. Fuyumi and Natsuo are hiding and crying, and Fuyumi is covering both their ears. Rei reflects that she chose to be married to Enji and she truly thought she could have a family full of laughter. Th-this just hurts. No emoji can express how awful this situation is. Enji looks like a monster in these panels (we still don’t know exactly when the abuse started, but I think it was either after Touya tried to kill Shoto or here when Rei failed to stop Touya from training). Shoto’s crying and yelling at Enji to protect his mom. His siblings too if you think about it. Even back then, Shoto was a hero even when he really shouldn’t had been.

The present goes back and forth with the past here. Touya waited for Enji to come see him train, but he never came. Rei also ignored Touya even though she knew of his problems. Touya was truly alone on that mountain. And here’s where Rei’s blame comes in. She was a good mother, I think. But she did ignore Touya when he needed her most. She kind of ran away too.

Back to Dabi, he reminisces of how he faked his own “death” back on that mountain after Enji didn’t show up. He didn’t know how to stop the fire because Enji only taught him to increase the fire. Touya started a whole wildfire. The whole place turned to ash. Enji tried looking for his son, but was devastated when he couldn’t. Gotta say, these panels are brutal. Like, Tenko Shimura’s Origin chapters were dark, but this is a different kind of dark.

Back to the present. Enji says that after Touya “died” he didn’t know what to do other than to focus on Shoto (the panel shows a dark figure of Enji looming over a sad Shoto similar to that image of Overhaul looming over Eri because she wasn’t saved yet). Rei got more disgusted just seeing Enji and she started seeing his shadow when she saw her kids, specifically Shoto and Natsuo (maybe because Natsuo is more built like Enji?). Fuyumi and Natsuo blame themselves for not doing anything and thinking things were okay even though they knew what was going on. Natsuo still blames Enji of course because Enji started this all. And I can’t say that Natsuo’s wrong, but Enji doesn’t shoulder the whole blame. And yeah, Fuyumi and Natsuo were still just kids when this happened, but a little extra push from them could’ve helped. It’s just the “It’s my fault” game with the Todoroki’s except for Shoto.

Natsuo’s taking a big hit here. He was closest to Touya and if Natsuo took more action to help Touya, Dabi probably wouldn’t have been born. Touya could’ve even treated Shoto to some soba 😭. That’s a nice thought, Natsu, but we all know what did happen in the end.

So, Rei concludes that everyone is shouldering some blame towards their family’s problems and that it isn’t completely Enji’s fault (this I agree with). Even so, Rei says that his family would still help him get back up even if he fell. Coming from Rei, the woman who was abused and put in a mental hospital, this is saying A LOT! We saw some of this back in the Pro Heroes arc (Endeavor Vs. High End), but here it’s said out loud. Even a family as broken as the Todorokis can still heal.

Rei then calls Shoto the family hero as if it weren’t for him going to UA, making friends, and taking action to repair his family, then none of this would’ve happened. There’s a page that shows present day injured Shoto at the center and that iconic “IT’S YOUR QUIRK, NOT HIS” scene from the Sports Fest. in the background. TDDK or not, this is such a damn good throwback! I love everything about it. Again, Shoto’s the family hero, but Izuku’s the true hero in all this. If he didn’t meddle with Shoto’s family problems, then Shoto and his family would still be a broken mess. Izuku might as well be an honorary Todoroki at this point 💙💚

Endeavor is still crying hard (the man’s literally shook) and Shoto finally speaks (his speech bubbles are shakey, so his voice might be raspier than usual). Shoto talked with Rei about how he plans to face Dabi on his own. Rei said “no”. Shoto concludes that everyone’s going to help stop Dabi, including Enji. The panel shows Shoto LITERALLY REACHING OUT to Enji!!! His face shows that he’s still kind of reluctant, but this is a sign that Shoto’s is close to forgiveness. He’s not there yet and he can turn back whenever he wants. But, this is Shoto’s choice and I’m so freaking proud of him. I love this ❄️🔥 boy so much, guys 💙😭!

The final panel shows Haws and Best Jeanist outside of Enji’s hospital room and they heard pretty much everything. Very similar to how Bakugo accidentally eavesdropped on Shoto and Izuku back in the Sports Fest haha! Neither of them look mad or sad, but more contempt I think. Massive problems in the Todoroki family that’s lasted over 20 years is finally being fixed. Shoto rebuilding his relationship with his family was good, but THIS is a big step since it’s not just Shoto taking action. It’s the whole family.

Wooo... I think that’s it. Again, the Todoroki Family storyline is one of my favorites in the BNHA series. Probably the most controversial and dividing, but still damn good. I feel bad for everyone in this family. Everyone but Shoto feels some kind of blame and ultimately they are at fault here to some degree. The biggest ones are obviously Enji and Touya himself. Rei’s also a big reason why things went wrong (she really could’ve helped Touya more), but not NEARLY as much as the big two. Shoto’s the only one who isn’t at fault at all yet he’s still willing to step up to the plate to help his family. Again, I love this kid so damn much 💙! I’m sorry if I missed any details btw. I might make edits to fix them when the official release comes out on Sunday.

TL;DR Version of Last 2 BNHA Chapters:

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alirhi · 3 years

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Title: Winter's Frost Chapter: 26/? Fandom: MCU Rating: R to be on the safe side Pairing: Loki/Bucky Summary: Loki never told anyone the realreason he became so obsessed with Midgard. Much better to let them think he wanted to hurt his brother than draw their attention to the one thing in the universe that makes the God of Mischief truly vulnerable. Notes: Taking a little creative license with the mythology. If Marvel can fuck around with it, I can, too XD

Whatever Loki had been expecting subconsciously as he prepared himself for this meeting, the Queen Mother far exceeded it. Skadi was beautiful, ageless, and she exuded a strength that was palpable even from across the cavernous room. Fighting to hide his awe of her but unable to fully suppress his somewhat giddy smile, he bowed slightly. He was relieved when, without being prompted, Bucky bowed much lower than he had.

"So, Loki Odinson of Asgard." His smile instantly faded at that title, and the disdain in her voice.

"Laufeyson, actually," he snapped. "Did you think I dipped myself in blue paint before I arrived?"

Once again, a hand resting softly on his shoulder made him glance at Bucky, who was shaking his head in warning. "Loki..."

He huffed, but collected himself and forced a cordial smile as he returned his attention to the other end of the room. His brothers stood to either side of their mother, all three looking darkly amused at his expense. Squashing down his ego for the sake of diplomacy, Loki ignored it and pushed on. "Forgive me. I'm not here to quibble about names. For some time, I was raised to believe I was a son of Odin, but as you can see, I've found my way past Odin's lies and have returned home."

"Home?" Helblindi snorted. "The dwarf thinks he can find a home here?"

"Isn't that precious?"

Though she, too, looked like she wanted to laugh, Skadi held up a hand to silence her sons' chortling and teasing. "This was never your home, Odinson. Don't think that just because you've made yourself pariah on Asgard, you can run here to hide. We have no use for a runt with an inflated ego; we already have a court jester."

"Okay, fuck diplomacy," Bucky growled, looking like he wanted to rip them all apart with his bare hands. "Show these arrogant blue bitches what you can do."

Though normally his lover's support would have made him smile, Loki was rather distracted by an unexpected stab of pain as his heart splintered. Somewhere deep down, he'd hoped that Odin's story had been a lie; that he'd been stolen from loving parents who would welcome him back with open arms. Faced now with the overwhelming evidence that he truly had been abandoned, he wasn't sure what to do. He'd already forgotten the true reason he was there in the first place.

"Mother-"

Now even Skadi was laughing. "Is that what you think?! That I would ever produce such a puny reject?" She leaned on Býleistr's shoulder for a moment, both of them openly laughing at the furious, confused Trickster. "This thing thinks I'm its mother! The arrogance!"

"But you're the wife of Laufey-"

"Yes." All traces of humor gone in an instant, she straightened and glared at him. "And you killed him. So tell me, Odinson, why should I not have you executed now and have done with it?"

Well, if Skadi wasn't his mother, at least he didn't have to give a damn what she thought of him. Fuck diplomacy, indeed. Adjusting his coat, Loki stood a bit straighter and took a step forward. "Because you are not the one in power." He nodded to Helblindi. "He is. And since you couldn't keep Laufey's interest, I'm afraid you've lost mine."

"You insolent little-"

"Mother." With a smirk that reminded Loki a little of himself, Helblindi put a hand on Skadi's shoulder to stop her from rushing at their uninvited guest. "Even if he's fallen out of favor for the moment, we risk war if we kill Odin's favorite pet." He nodded to Bucky and grinned. "Why not kill the human, instead? An eye for an eye, a husband for a husband."

"I mean, technically-"

Shaking his head at his lover's adorable fixation on unimportant details, Loki chuckled. "You don't want to do that."

"Why?" Skadi challenged, already reaching for her sword. "It sounds reasonable to me."

"What am I, a prop?"

Somehow until that moment, it had never occurred to him that his shapeshifting power meant he could change his size, as well as his shape. Growing to just a bit taller than the wide-eyed and startled Queen, he grinned. "Because I fight better when it's for someone I love."

With a wave of Loki's hand, a gun appeared in Bucky's. To his credit, his pretty soldier didn't even seem fazed; he calmly checked the mechanisms and readied the weapon to be fired.

"And if I were you, I wouldn't want to fight him."

He had nothing to prove to these people. The realization hit him out of nowhere, and with a soft sigh, he returned to his original height. He had no need to make himself as large as they were; he was more powerful than all of them. With the flick of his wrist, he could have them on their knees.

While Skadi and Býleistr watched Loki's every move with anger and suspicion, Helblindi chuckled and stepped forward. "Why have you come here, little brother? Surely it's nothing so childishly sentimental as looking for a family."

Right. Thanos. Still burning with curiosity about his birth mother, Loki pushed it aside the best he could and approached the King. "A war is coming that threatens to reduce all the Nine Realms to ash. We need to be able to stand together-"

"You're asking for an alliance?" Skadi's mocking, incredulous tone was truly grating on his nerves. "You have no power to speak for Asgard! You have no power at all."

"Tell me, Your Highness," he demanded, "which of Laufey's sons was born first?"

"If you think we'd ever put some half-breed reject on the throne-"

"I've never wanted a throne!" Loki snapped, glaring at her. A spike of ice surged up from the floor; he narrowly stopped it from impaling her. With a growl, he shattered it and explained as calmly as he could, "I was simply making a point. And I do not speak for Asgard. Odin's got his head so far up his ass I doubt he can tell what time it is, much less lead a charge."

Helblindi looked dubious, but intrigued. "Then whom are we to ally ourselves with?"

He deflated slightly, though he did his best not to show it. "...The Avengers. They're a group on Midgard-"

"I've heard of them."

"You have?" Bucky sounded as incredulous as Loki felt; it was rather nice to not have to be the one to voice it.

With an almost-genuine smile, the King nodded to his brother. "Býleistr, bring Farbauti to us, while I talk with her son."

Skadi was fuming. "I will not have that Asgardian whore in my house!"

"It's not your house anymore, Mother," Helblindi calmly reminded her as he gestured for Loki and Bucky to join him at a table set up on the far side of the room. "I can handle things from here."

Eyes wide, Loki watched the Queen Mother storm out of the room. At first, all that registered in his mind was that there was a chance someone was actually listening to him for a change. Then the words 'her son' and 'Asgardian' filtered through the din of his racing thoughts.

By the time Býleistr returned with a nervous looking Aesir woman in tow, all Loki had managed to come up with to say was a somewhat choked, "What?"

___________________________________________________

For those who don't know: in the mythology, Loki is only half Jotun. his mother is never specified as Aesir, but she is referred to as "a goddess" so I figured Asgardian/Aesir is probably a safe bet.

___________________________________________________ Masterlist

#fanfiction #loki #bucky barnes #winter's frost #mcu #avengers #thor #captain america #winter soldier #m/m #loki/bucky #sebastian stan #tom hiddleston

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umbry-fic · 3 years

Text

A Palette Full of You (2)

Summary: Glimpses into Colette and Lloyd's lives as they grow up together, learn who they are, and fall in love with each other.

(Written for Colloyd Week 2021)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel Relationships: Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Chapter: 2 of 6 Word Count: 4212 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 10/06/2021

Chapter Title: Save the Children!

Chapter Summary: Lloyd and Colette take a break from studying and decide to play a video game. Colette starts to ruminate a little on how she's different from the rest of her classmates...

(Colloyd Week Day 2: Sidequest)

Notes+Warnings: Chapter 2 of my multi-chapter Colloyd week fic! Colette and Lloyd play a bunch of Kameo: Elements of Power. Lloyd is bisexual. This chapter might have a bit of internalised acephobia so beware.

Chapter list Full fic Previous chapter Next chapter

~~~

12-years-old

"There! Over there!" Colette shouted, dropping the Xbox controller onto her lap and gesturing frantically towards a corner of the television screen. In her frantic excitement, she completely forgot that Lloyd was sitting right next to her on the sofa, her elbow banging straight into Lloyd's arm.

Lloyd, startled, pitched to the side and pushed the joystick on his Xbox controller in the same direction.

Major Ruin, who Lloyd had been controlling to charge up a Bolder Rush, executed the move at this exact moment as Lloyd let go of the right trigger.

And so Major Ruin careened right off the edge of the platform, as per the directions Lloyd had just inputted into the game. The tragic end to a glorious adventure. Kameo would never rescue her father from her sister’s evil clutches, for she had fallen to her death from a high height... by complete accident. Or maybe it would be better to class this as incompetence?

Oops.

"Oh, no," they both muttered at the same time, staring with their mouths open in horror. Colette reached out uselessly towards the TV, as if she could reach into the game and stop Major Ruin’s fall.

As if.

The armadillo look-alike Earth elemental (except a lot spikier) continued to fall while flailing their stubby limbs uselessly, eventually hitting the ground with the familiar and resonant "thud", accompanied with the dreaded snapping sound that had populated much of their playtime in the Snow-top Village. The thin and winding ice paths throughout that area had led to many a death from fall damage as they had tried to get their hands on the elemental fruits hidden away among various corners. Now that they were in the Ancient Tower, with its dark, foreboding, narrow stone corridors lit only by the sparest of torches sitting in sconces, where there was only one path forward and they were caged in by walls, Colette thought their falling episodes would be over. It was a bit claustrophobic, really.

It appeared that was not the case. Fall damage was eternal, and it would haunt them always, following them everywhere and showing its face at the most inopportune of moments.

Major Ruin morphed back into Kameo's petite, winged form, collapsing to the ground with a pained groan. Lloyd's side of the screen faded to black before he respawned at the last checkpoint, erasing a full 20 minutes of progress. The Kameo that Colette controlled was now completely alone in the chamber, performing her idle animations as Colette’s controller went untouched. Lloyd dropped his Xbox controller into his lap as well, leaning back against the sofa as he let out a groan of his own.

There was no sound apart from the whirring coming from the Xbox under the TV, the game music, and the "whup-whup" of the blades of the ancient standing fan in the corner of the living room, struggling in its job to blow "cool" air at them and combat the viciously hot weather.

Lloyd had every right to be frustrated with her; she had a tendency to kill him in-game. It wasn't murder, just manslaughter: knocking him off the cliff, setting both of them on fire, or startling him in general. It wasn't just in Kameo. Her clumsiness and butterfingers translated to every genre. No matter the game - Mario, Minecraft, Maplestory - she always found some way to cause a game over.

But he'd never directed any frustration or anger towards her. These are just silly games, he said every time. Much easier to laugh over the mirthful consequences together than get mad. Whenever they had the time to play video games together, the air was filled with nothing but laughter, a few frustrated grumbles from when they were struggling at a particular level, and the occasional rib from Lloyd’s end when she messed up. That's what made it incredibly fun. What the two of them had termed "game-time" never failed to put a smile on their faces.

And it was an effective destresser! It was a great relief to be able to channel all the stress from studying for PSLE into beating up trolls in Kameo. That appeared to be Lloyd's favourite part of the game - racking up combos with his favourite character Pummel Weed. Though she had to say her favourite part of the game so far was watching the cutscenes that played after rescuing the baby elementals from the prisons created by the nefarious shadow trolls. The wacky transformation from adorable blob to full-fledged elemental, complete with the blob sprouting arms and growing claws or shells, was… interesting to witness.

"Sorry," she sheepishly said, still feeling the need to apologise as she patted his hand. "Didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I found the last child!"

"Oh, really? Where?” Lloyd asked eagerly, attention turning back to the TV. “I couldn't see anything. It's all so dark."

"Over there." More calmly this time, Colette pointed out the child encased in a translucent ice crystal, tucked away in a corner of the platform hidden in shadow. She’d forgotten the name of this species, and could only describe them as cuttlefish that had taken human form. What were they were doing so far from the Mountain Falls? Weren't they native to that location? "We need to free them quickly! This is the last child."

“The last - you’ve been keeping count?!” Lloyd asked, voice rising in volume and shock written clearly across his face.

“Yeah! The mother said there were three, and we’ve rescued two. She must have been really worried, or she wouldn’t have begged us to save her children. I want to reunite them as soon as possible!”

"Alright. Ice, huh? It'd be similar to the other crystals we got rid of in the snow area. So just turn into Ash!" Lloyd suggested.

"Oh, you're right! Thanks for the reminder!" Colette opened the transformation wheel with a quick press of a button and proceeded to fumble with the joystick for a full minute while Lloyd slowly crawled his way back up the tower. She kept pushing too far to the right and overshooting Ash's dragon head on the wheel to land on Thermite, before overcorrecting to the left and landing on 40 Below. Frustration slowly piled up until she groaned, burying her head in her lap. This was embarrassing. She couldn't even navigate a simple menu like this, even after months of playing this game. Butterfingers, once again.

"Lloyd, can you open the main menu? I'll just pick Ash from there."

"Nah, we don't need to open Wotnot. Let's give Ortho a break for now," Lloyd replied. She knew that wasn't the real reason. Lloyd just didn’t want to hear from the eccentric wizard trapped within the paperback book that doubled as the main menu. "Here, let me help. But you need to get up first!" She straightened up, still sulking as he smiled at her, looking like he was holding back laughter at her predicament.

Lloyd stretched out his hand and placed his index finger over her thumb, gently guiding her thumb on the joystick so that the selection square landed right on Ash's head. Colette watched as Kameo hunched over and transformed into the red, clawed, scaly dragon that was the fire elemental Ash, tail slowly swaying from side-to-side as his wings flapped.

"You're so good at this..." she muttered, glancing down at her controller where Lloyd's hand was still placed over hers. They were only 12, but his hands were already slightly bigger than hers. He'd gotten his growth spurt in the earlier part of this year and shot up in height; now half a head taller than her. It was a slightly startling change after being the same height for the six years they'd known each other. He would likely only grow taller as time went on. As for herself... Maybe she'd gain another 5 centimetres by the time she was 18, if she was lucky. Given the actual state of her luck, she'd probably stagnate at her current height. Tallness was just not in the cards for her.

Not that she minded. The added height made him rather comfortable to lie on. If he gained just a few more centimetres, his shoulder would be the perfect height to rest her head on… That would make movie nights all the more comfortable.

Plus, the height change was just that. A physical change. Inside, Lloyd was still the same person - the boy who loved playing with Noishe but hated doing his homework, and would do everything in the world to avoid it. He hadn't changed. Not a single bit.

"Don’t sweat it. There are so many things you’re good at too! If it weren’t for your keen eye, I would’ve missed the kid entirely… So don’t be too bothered!” Lloyd gave her hand one squeeze before removing his hand, returning to his quest of returning to Colette's location. "Now, melt the ice!”

Colette did exactly that, leading the lumbering Ash over to the entrapped child and unleashing his fire breath. She watched with bated breath as the ice slowly melted, causing more of the child to be exposed to the air. They had previously used this exact same technique to unearth elemental fruits in the icy caverns filled with those icky bugs that exploded when defeated and obscured the screen with blue juice. It had been exciting then, to stumble upon secrets because of their penchant for exploration. But watching the child slowly be freed, watching their tentacles slowly start to move as they came into contact with warm air, was an entirely different experience, one that filled her with joy.

When was the last time the two of them completed a side objective like this, one that had direct effects on a citizen of this magical world? Casting her mind back informed her that that would be the starting town, when they returned to water the farmer’s crops with Deep Blue.

Now that the last child had been fully freed, all the children went running back to their worried mother, who proceeded to pull them into a giant group hug. Colette dropped her controller, clapping her hands together at such a sweet sight. Lloyd did laugh, then, a chuckle that she could feel rumble through her as well from where their shoulders touched. "What are you so excited about?" he asked.

"We did it! We saved all the children!" she exclaimed, watching the mother pull out one of the large elemental fruit in thanks. "Doesn't that make you happy? That we were able to help someone... That's what makes these side objectives fulfilling, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's just like you to get like this over a video game,” Lloyd replied, watching Kameo hoist the elemental fruit into the air, where it magically shrunk in size to fit in her bag. Colette wondered how Kameo’s bag even worked - how did it store Wotnot and dozens of elemental fruits? It was like a black hole. Just like Noishe's stomach.

“Though..." Lloyd frowned, staring up at the clock that hung on the wall, whose hands indicated that it was 2 pm. "Time’s up. We should get back to revising before Mom gets home from the vet with Noishe."

"Oh, you're right..." That was a downer. Time had flown so fast; their 20 minutes were up already!

The moment had come to return to the dining table and the assessment books that sat open on it. Studying was never fun, but it just had to be math today, and the chapter just had to be nets. Her most hated subject, combined with the topic she hated most. It was a headache all around.

But Lloyd was surprisingly good at nets, and he'd been a great help the whole day. Even if he still hated math with a passion and always got stuck on algebra questions, where it was her turn to assist him. That was why studying together was effective! They could fill in the gaps for each other, and motivate each other to keep going. Just three months left to go until it was all over! They could do this, and they would get through it. Together, just as they would every predicament that came to pass in the future.

"Um, and before you go home today, could you help me with something else?"

"What is it?" Colette asked, reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table. Lloyd was staring at the carpet, his hand absent-mindedly pulling at the hem of his singlet, separating the fabric from sweaty skin.

“Ellum’s birthday present,” Lloyd muttered, his voice getting softer with each word he spoke, until she could barely make out the words. “His birthday is in two weeks, and I…”

Ohhh.

They had a habit of telling each other almost everything, for any secret was always safe with the other. So she knew why Lloyd was clamming up. Ellum was his current crush, after all.

“Say no more. Of course I’ll help you! We can do whatever you want!” she replied with enthusiasm. She'd be happy to help.

"Thank you," Lloyd replied, meeting her gaze again with a tiny smile lighting up his face. "Now, let's get back to studying."

They made the short walk to the dining table, taking their seats across from each other. Lloyd's face was already starting to twist into a grimace, resigning himself to another few hours of torture at the hands of the twisted people who made their livelihood setting math questions.

Clearing away the Kit Kat wrappers on her assessment book, she glanced down at a question about nets she'd been working on before the break. Yet not a single word on the page was being absorbed. They were all running away from her.

The downside of Lloyd confiding in her for all of his crushes was that it was a stark reminder that she hadn't had her first one yet. And then, inevitably, her mind would drift further to all the little ways she stood out from her classmates.

It was like everyone around her had changed drastically overnight at some unknown point in time. The jokesters of the class had just started making dirty jokes one day, prompting scandalised glares from the rest of the class but also prompting snickers. She herself didn't get the joke half the time, just laughed to go along with everyone else.

Then there was the shift in daily conversation. Instead of discussing their favourite Pokémon, more often than not the other girls would now discuss in hushed voices while giggling which celebrity was the most attractive. She herself would sit quietly, trying to melt into the wall as she observed without interjecting, half fascinated and half horrified. Weren't they all too young for this?

Things got even more awkward when she was forcibly pulled into the conversation when someone directed a question at her. She had no idea what to say whenever someone showed her a picture of a celebrity and asked her to rate them. The only thing she ever managed to stutter out was that their eyes were a nice colour, and so was their hair. That... was how you judged a person on how attractive they were, right? Everyone else, though, seemed to think she was weird. But how was she supposed to be feeling? No one had ever taught her. It felt like everyone was keeping a secret from her on how these things were supposed to work, then making fun of her for not getting it.

She only got more confused every time something like that happened. All she wanted to do was go back to talking about her favourite cartoons, but that didn't seem to be an option. Lloyd wasn't in the same class as her, so she couldn't even sit with him and ignore everyone else. The only time she could meet up with him during school hours was at recess. She didn't know what Lloyd talked about with the rest of his friends. Maybe the same stuff. But she didn't really care, because, with him, she could just be herself. There was no need for tiring pretence.

All she could do when the girls were in a mood to discuss celebrities again was sit a little outside of their circle, counting down the seconds remaining for class to start while she tried to look as occupied as possible. She couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief every time the topic of conversation turned back to something a little easier to understand, like video games.

But surely, someday, she would understand.

She was waiting. For that day. For her to finally catch up to everyone else in the race she hadn’t even known she’d entered until everyone had left her in the dust, still standing with her mouth agape at the starting line. To finally be like everyone else, to be able to fit in seamlessly. But there was no use getting down about it!

She just had to meet The One. Then everything would change, everything would fix itself. That's what happened in all the stories, the shows, the movies, after all.

Because everyone, in the end, learned to feel the same way, right?

~~~

19-years-old

"Right! I think that’s enough for now.” Colette’s voice shattered the serenity of her room from where she was sitting on the bed with her laptop balanced in her lap, cutting through the sleepy fog that was starting to fill Lloyd’s head. The peaceful Ghibli tunes that had been filling the room cut off abruptly as she shut her laptop screen, reaching a hand up to undo her messy hair bun.

Lloyd yawned, rubbing his eyes and hoping that would make his eyelids feel less heavy. Pushing himself up from his belly-down position on the bed, he caught one last glance of the back of Colette's neck before her hair covered it again. Doing prep for uni was not the most exciting way to pass the afternoon, and it certainly wasn't normal fare for a date. But it had to be done, so they might as well do it together, as they did all things.

Though he'd gotten distracted and started scrolling through YouTube about an hour ago.

"Are you going to change out of pyjamas?” Lloyd asked, stretching, his shirt hiking up slightly. He’d taken the lift down the three floors that separated his apartment and hers in the old HDB block that they’d stayed in all their lives, rang the doorbell while staring at the Chinese New Year decorations that were still hung up despite the month now being April, and waited for Colette to open the door… Only to be met with the sight of Colette in her favourite doggie pyjamas, the baby blue button-up ones that covered every inch of her skin. She'd shrugged and said it was cold from the non-stop rain, but he knew the real reason was the lazy post-A-levels haze, that affected him as well. These days, sleeping in until noon was the norm. Or sleeping in until one of his parents came into his bedroom to knock him awake.

“Yeah,” she replied, grabbing a towel and a few articles of clothing from the open wardrobe and heading towards the doorway.

“Alright.”

Lloyd closed his laptop slowly, not wanting a repeat of the time in Secondary 3 he’d shattered the screen because Zelos had sneaked up on him and caught him unawares. He rolled off the bed, making the small trip of barely a few steps to the study table, passing the various objects Colette had up on the walls - the Disney posters she’d gotten ages ago, and the random stickers she’d amassed over the years from school club sales and donations - and the bay window filled to the brim with cute and huggable soft toys, a familiar Siberian Husky that showed the signs of being well-loved sitting atop the pile.

Lying on the study table was Colette’s Nintendo Switch, plugged into a socket to charge. Right next to it was a jar holding paintbrushes of all sizes, all of them as clean of paint as possible, for he knew Colette took extremely good care of her art supplies. The sketchbook no one was allowed to peek into was sticking out of the table’s drawer, half-used pads of foolscap and sheets of paper with pencils rolling in them visible within. Files that he’d nearly kicked, containing lecture notes and worksheets, were shoved into messy piles under the table, unneeded after the conclusion of examinations but having no convenient place to be stored. The tiny shelf sitting on the table still had her Junior College badge housed on one of the layers, silver in colour and reflecting the light from the windows, despite her having no use for it ever since they had graduated in November. (Perhaps she liked looking at it? She was something of a magpie sometimes.) He could spot a familiar conch shell, placed among other knick-knacks, mostly birthday presents.

Picking up the handheld (with its lime green and cyan JoyCons firmly attached), he unplugged the charger and watched the screen light up - and frowned at what it showed him.

"Hey, Colette!" he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. He hoped he could catch her before she entered the bathroom. Uncle Frank was working in the master bedroom no more than five metres away and had been nothing less than incredibly nice, as he always was, providing tons of refreshments and snacks. Lloyd would like to prevent a shouting relay if possible.

If Colette had been walking, she shouldn't have reached the bathroom yet...

The fast pitter-patter of bare feet against the floor informed him that he was right. "What is it, Lloyd?" Colette's head poked its way into the doorframe, her golden hair reaching down towards the floor, her blue eyes wide and questioning.

"You left Animal Crossing on," he answered, waving the Switch in the air.

Her eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh. You know what to do, right?"

Control the playable character and put her to sleep, then save the game. He'd done it before.

"Yeah, but, I was thinking... I haven't taken a walk on your island since last year. How about I take another tour while you're in the bathroom? If you're okay with it, of course."

"Oh, sure! I trust you." Colette smiled sweetly, turning to leave before pausing and turning back. "But remember -"

"- remember not to step on the flowers." Lloyd finished her sentence easily, stating that fact very seriously. He knew about Colette's concerns about her precious flowers, which she’d spent hours arranging around her little island until they were in just the right spot - fields of rainbows to welcome any guests and guide them around. He hadn't known that the stems of the flowers could break from being trampled multiple times when he first explored her quaint world - the fictional flowers were just as fragile as their real-life counterparts. He’d kept that in mind ever since, adding it to the many rules to follow to ensure no harm came to all the hard work Colette had put in to make her island perfect.

"Yep. Um…” Colette wrung her hands together, bowing her head so her hair formed a veil over her face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a step towards her.

“No, nothing’s wrong!” Colette hurriedly replied, lifting her head again. She screwed her eyes shut, hands clenching into fists. “I - uh, just wanted to say… I love you!”

The last three words came out in a shout, so quick that he almost didn’t catch them.

Lloyd froze, trying to process what he’d just heard - and before he could reply, Colette was already gone, having fled down the corridor and out of sight.

He slowly shut his mouth, which he hadn’t even realised was open.

This was the first time she’d said those coveted three words since they'd started dating. Her voice had been dripping with uncertainty, her posture betraying her shyness, but no matter how contradictory, she’d said it with sincerity, with all her heart. And even though he didn't need to hear them from her to know she loved him, for it was actions that counted, and certainly didn't need to hear them from her for him to love her, it still made him smile, his whole soul filled with a light warmth.

They’d travelled such a long way from all the checkpoints in life that they'd passed together. They still had a long way to go, but they’d do it together. As they always had.

"I love you too, silly," he said into empty space, knowing Colette couldn't hear him but wanting to say it anyway.

Lloyd unlocked the Switch screen, staring down at Colette's intricate creation. Flowers filled the screen, black, grey, white, purple, that he found familiar but couldn't put a name to. Oh, well. He would just tour the island and check out any new changes while he walked to the living room and waited for Colette to come back. Maybe he'd visit the town centre as well.

The most vital question to be answered was... Had Colette gotten those froggy chairs that she wanted for the townspeople?

~~~

Next chapter

#fanfiction #multi chapter #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloyd #colloydweek2021 #day 2: sidequest #tales of symphonia

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morethanaprincess-a · 3 years

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As they’ve started to become relevant in a few verses and threads, I wanted to write a little bit about some of Sonia’s extended family. Thus, here is some information about His Royal Highness Prince Arthur, Duke of Neuchatel (King Alexandre’s brother and only sibling, and Sonia’s uncle) and his family.

Note: Each member of this family is referred to as “His/Her Royal Highness” or “Your Highness,” despite Arthur and Olivia being the Duke and Duchess of Neuchatel. Because they are the sole Royal Duke and Duchess (with their titles granted to them upon marriage by the former King), they are addressed as Royal Highnesses as opposed to “Your Grace,” which is how other Dukes and Duchesses within Novoselic would be spoken of and to, if a servant or commoner is addressing them (at parties, or among those in the aristocracy, they are referred to as ‘Duke’ or ‘Duchess.’ No, it makes little sense and yes, it’s a lot to learn if your muse ends up working for/with Sonia in the Royal Family or your muse plans to marry her).

Everything is under the cut, as it’s pretty long!

His Royal Highness, the Duke of Neuchatel - Also known as Arthur, Duke of Neuchatel or informally as Arthur Nevermind (his last name, like his brother King Alexandre and his niece Princess Sonia, comes from their Royal House), he is King Alexandre’s only sibling. Born two years after his brother, Arthur proved himself to be charming and charismatic at a young age. Where Alexandre was thoughtful, introspective, and considerate, Arthur was bold and captivating. He loves a healthy competition no matter where it’s found, but he still grumbles that his brother still bests him in chess. His hobbies included shooting, skiing, and, to his mother’s dismay, gambling.

Despite being ‘the spare,’ Arthur relishes in being in charge, delivering orders and having his plans executed perfectly. It made him an ideal football captain in school as well as a member of the In Utero Student Council during his final two years of high school (he chose which events he wished to engage with. They were few and far-between). He consistently received the fastest training times throughout his military training, from obstacle courses to rope climbs to assembling firearms to driving tanks. His eagerness to guide others to victory made him an asset in the Novoselic Royal Army, where he completed his obligatory two years. He married Lady Olivia, daughter of the Duke of Vaud, two years after the Royal Wedding of-then Prince Alexandre, heir to the throne, and Lady Valentina, daughter of the Duke of Ticino.

Now, he is a full-time working royal for the Novoselic Royal Family with charitable interests in war veterans and science/technology. He’s an avid fan of the national football team, luxury fashion, wine, and his collection of rare watches and sportscars. He attends every Monaco Grand Prix and keeps a yacht on the French Riviera (which, on occasion, he’ll invite his wife along. This is not a frequent occurrence).

Before Sonia comes of age and graduates university, he is the one fulfilling many of King Alexandre’s international obligations, so he is often away from home. He prefers to travel in style (or rather, he prefers to have his entire life to be lived ‘in style.’).

Her Royal Highness, the Duchess of Neuchatel - Also known as Olivia, Duchess of Neuchatel or informally as Olivia Nevermind, is the wife of the Duke of Neuchatel and Sonia’s aunt. A bit shorter and fuller in the bust than her sister-in-law Queen Valentina, Olivia could be best described as ‘meek and mousy.’ While the King and Duke have golden hair and blue eyes, and the Queen with her platinum hair and green eyes, Olivia still retains the expected (if not requisite) blonde hair of the Royal Family, though hers is a mix of dirty and ash blonde. She has round brown eyes that can make her look permanently surprised if she’s not in control of her emotions.

Olivia is a gentle, soft-spoken woman whom, since birth, has been raised to take her place in Novoselic’s aristocracy. As a child, she loved embroidery, piano, and ballet, but was forced to give up the sport after her teachers insisted she was ‘too chubby’ to continue. From then on, she took up tennis and gardening as hobbies, with the latter carrying on well into her adult life. After marrying Prince Arthur and becoming the Duchess of Neuchatel, Olivia’s interests are, first and foremost, their two children and raising them to be the future Duke of Neuchatel and members of the Novoselic aristocracy.

She spends far more time at home than her husband, though she participates in every official engagement and function the Royal Family asks of her. She is a popular choice to be featured in documentaries and interviews, such as recorded tours around various Royal estates. Her philanthropic efforts are focused mainly around agriculture, animal conservation, horticulture, and children’s charities, and when she becomes of age, Princess Sonia and her aunt often share the duties for animal conservatory and children’s charity efforts.

While she does eat meat, she eats very little of it and tends to choose more fish and plant-based meals. She supports organic farming and hydroponics, and is the host of the annual Novosonian flower show. When she is able to go and invited, she loves to attend Wimbledon.

His Royal Highness, Prince Liam of Neuchatel - Also known as Liam, Prince of Neuchatel or Liam Nevermind, he is Sonia’s eldest cousin on her father’s side and four years younger than she is. A bit taller than his cousin and far more muscular (if not stocky), Liam is brash, loud, and generally unafraid to speak his mind in most matters. If there’s quips being slung in the Royal Family, he’s one of three possible suspects (the others are Queen Valentina and Prince Arthur).

Liam likes to be active and to have a good time, or a good laugh. During Princess Sonia’s first year attending the annual Masquerade Ball, he and some school friends from In Utero Primary School let loose a flock of makango into the ballroom, causing a great uproar when the animals took a dip in the champagne and chocolate fountains and scurried up skirts and trouser legs. Since then, Queen Valentina tends to frown whenever he’s discussed.

He’s not the biggest fan of school, though he has some talent for mathematics and statistics. Languages, literature, and history tend to put him to sleep. What he does like is physical fitness and sports, and won’t hesitate to try most athletics (ballroom dancing, and most types of dancing, are exempt. He hates these). He is primarily a polo and rugby player, but he enjoys football as well and likes to watch boxing and racing. Like his father, he enjoys being part of a sports team, though not necessarily leading it.

Upon graduation, he elects to attend university (or rather, his father tells him he’ll be going) and fulfill his obligatory military service during the school holidays (mostly so he doesn’t become mixed up in his usual partying crowd). While he wanted to be properly deployed, most of his military responsibilities involve defense, particularly at the Novoselic border. He’s frustrated by this and finds it difficult to focus, so during his holidays he’s often found in Spain or Greece, wherever the it-crowd has designated the coolest spot to see and be seen. And like his father, he quite likes luxury goods, expensive liquor, and sports cars. He’s also known to be quite handsome, with his mother’s ash blonde hair and his father’s blue eyes (otherwise known as the ‘Nevermind Blue.’ Sonia’s father, uncle, and Sonia herself all have them, as well as Liam).

Generally, if anyone’s going to appear in the tabloids, it’s usually Liam, and the Royal Family’s PR team has quite a job making sure anything incriminating never sees the light of day (or the light of a screen). His parents wish he’d settle down and actually have a real, meaningful relationship (that looks good in the eyes of the press and the people), but there’s no one special in his life. His charitable interests involve fitness and sports organizations, and he’s present at as many matches as he can. He loves when he’s sent to the Olympic Games to represent his country in the audience and in interviews.

His Royal Highness, Prince Samuel of Neuchatel - Also known as Samuel, Prince of Neuchatel or Samuel Nevermind, is the brother of Liam and Sonia’s cousin. He is two years younger than his brother and six years younger than Sonia. Where Liam is muscular, Samuel is not: however, he’s a good four inches taller than his brother, with long, golden hair (which he usually keeps tied back) and brown eyes (his mother’s). Samuel was one of the earliest targets of Liam’s jokes and jabs, and therefore he’s a bit quieter and considerate when it comes to his comments. Thoughtful and polite, he’s the ‘spare’ of the family and his parents worried he would grow up with a very thin skin. He didn’t take to athletics or military training nearly as easily as his brother Liam (though he took to video games: they bond over Mario Kart and Smash. It was a harrowing moment in Liam’s life the first time Samuel beat him at both).

Samuel is also an excellent student: history and art are his favorite subjects, though he gets exemplary grades in everything at In Utero. His hobbies and passions include visual art (he likes to sketch and paint) and playing the violin, and during the summer months he enjoys fishing. He’s very well-read and enjoys attending theatrical and musical productions as part of the Royal Family. Several of his drawings have been framed by his mother or King Alexandre and displayed in various Royal homes. He’d love to have something hung (besides a portrait of himself) in the National Gallery one day.

Upon graduation, he both chooses to attend University (seriously, he couldn’t get there fast enough) and to serve in the armed forces by joining the Novoselic Royal Air Force. Thus, he learned to both drive a tank and fly a plane before he could drive a car. Samuel loves flying for both work and fun, deeming the air to be the only place his family can’t chide or tease him. After his obligatory service, the Royal Family keeps a small, private plane for his singular use.

As he will not inherit the Dukedom (that will go to Liam), Samuel is both career-minded and a full-time working Royal. His charity work and proposed policies revolve around the arts, from new museums to theaters and productions to educational and grant opportunities. He is always working to add more cultural exhibits to every city and town in Novoselic.

It is often said by the press and public alike that Samuel acts more like they’d expect from the future Duke than Liam, a comment that never fails to upset the entire family.

#more-than-a-princess headcanons #(I have so. many. drafts. to write right now)#(But before I got to a few of them I thought this was necessary)#(Their historical AUs are altered depending on available technology of course)

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

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Blue Eyes Part 22

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 22: Alfie copes with Ella being away with the Lees. Ella learns to cope with her loses.

Alfie was not a patient man. Of course, he would cross land and sea for his wife, didn’t mean it was easy to wait for her return. To keep his spirits up, he reminded himself that it was for the better. She was clearing her head after the months of trauma she endured while in Small Heath. He imagined the day they reunited. It couldn’t come soon enough.

Alfie turned over and felt a warmth coming from Ella’s side of the bed. In his sleep-addled state, he furrowed his brow and blinked a few times. “El?”

Cyril lurched forward and began licking his owner’s face. He had taken it upon himself to travel from the foot of the bed, where he usually slept, to take Ella’s empty spot.

The man grumbled and shooed the mastiff away. “Oi, fuck off. Your breath smells like shit, mate.” He sighed and flopped back onto the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

There was a soft whimpering from the window. Alfie turned over onto his side and saw Anthea with her front paws resting on the window sill so she could look outside. Her brown eyes watching the street below.

“Thea, what’re you doing?”

The pit bull whined and dropped down to pace around Ella’s side of the bed.

“Yeah, I know, I miss her too.” Alfie rested a hand over his eyes. “I miss her too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ella had forgotten how sharp the forest air was in the early morning. She nearly forgot the stinging cold of a river as she washed. Her teeth chattered as she worked quickly, scrubbing away the dirt under her fingernails. But she paused when she dragged the soap over her abdomen. The scar was ugly, ugliest she’d ever seen. Still slightly bruised and purple with what was left from the stitches that had been removed.

She frowned and passed the soap over the scar once, twice, three times. Hoping with every scrub that it would disappear.

“Brought you some warmer clothes.”

Ella jumped and turned, her eyes going to her gun which was concealed in the pile of clothes she’d left on the bank of the river.

“Easy.” Isabel stopped a few feet from the bank so Ella wouldn’t spook more. “It’s just me.”

Her shoulders fell in relief and she began to rinse the suds off her skin.

“Mum was right, you Shelbys have gotten jumpy.” The young woman laughed softly. Isabel was a Traveler girl through and through. Her long ash-brown hair.

“Sorry,” Ella mumbled and stepped out of the river, reaching for the towel that was hanging on a nearby tree.

“No need to apologize.” Isabel smiled. She’d been partly made responsible for trying to help Ella through her withdrawal and see her through the grief. It had been a year since she’d lost her own daughter, who was only sixteen months old. There, of course, was a mystique around the Shelby family. But Isabel had known them growing up. It was strange to see how much Ella had changed but it was understandable.

As Ella dried off, Isabel handed her the long skirt and jumper. “You must be freezing, you’re so thin.”

“I lost weight in the hospital.” She mumbled and pulled on the warm clothes.

“Well, I know we’ll get you back to a healthy weight.” Isabel smiled and sat down beside the river.

Ella ran the towel through her hair. “Do you think people want me here?” She wondered.

Her friend frowned. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“It’s been a long time. I know Esme was on the road with you for a bit.” Ella couldn’t imagine that her former sister-in-law was gushing about how amazing the Shelbys were. Not after her beloved husband was gunned down.

Isabel nodded and pulled her knees close to her chest. “Mhm, she’s with the Youngs now. Might see her in the spring or at the fair.”

“Still.”

“I think you’re forgetting that gypsy families take care of their own. Your brother made a deal with us and that’s that. There’s no ill blood between us.” She smiled.

Ella sat down beside her. “I miss my husband already.” She sighed.

“I can imagine. I saw the way you two were looking at each other. You must love him very much.”

Tears stung her eyes. Coping through the withdrawal made her cry at the drop of a hat. Everything seemed to make her sad or angry. She tried her best to keep it under wraps. After all, she was a guest to the Lees and the last thing she wanted was to lash out at them. But it was gnawing at her insides like a parasite. “We’ve fallen so far apart. I didn’t want to fucking go to Birmingham but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wanted to protect me. Instead, my life ended.”

Isabel wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “El, your life isn’t over.” She said softly.

“Yes, it is.” She sniffled. “Alfie and I were meant to have a family together. Twins, a boy and a girl. And then Tommy’s fucking mess got me shot. Everything just came apart at the seams and I couldn’t do anything to fucking save it.”

“But Alfie still loves you, you know that.”

“There’s something in his eyes though, every time I look at him.” She hiccupped. “I know it’s bad. It’s like looking at me makes him sick.”

“Oh Ella, that’s not true.” Isabel soothed. “You want him to be angry at you. You want him to hate you because you think you deserve it. But you don’t.” She began to trace spiraling designs in the wet sand of the riverbank. “When I lost Flora, I blamed myself. How could I let her die? She got sick so that made me a bad mother. But there are things in this world that we can’t control.”

Ella wiped her eyes and felt a tremor go down her spine. She desperately wanted to numb the anguish inside.

Isabel saw her friend start to tremble and twitch. “Here.” She took her hands and dipped them in the ice-cold water. Ella instinctually went to withdraw her hands but Isabel kept them submerged. “Just focus on the cold. Feel that?”

Ella wanted to push her away but she forced herself to stay still. The chill in the water traveled up her arms leaving goosebumps. It was like a stinging injection right under her skin. A shock of the senses.

“You’re alive, Ella.” Isabel urged. “That’s not a mistake. I know you don’t want to feel anything but you need to. It’s the only way you’re going to get through this.”

~~~~~~~~~

Alfie scratched at his beard while he read through the numbers. “You double-check these?”

Tommy nodded from his spot across the desk. “Polly did.”

“Right, well, fucking trust her more than I trust you, mate.” He set the documents aside.

“Most people do.” The Blinder didn’t seem insulted.

“Good, right, it’s a deal then.” Alfie tipped his hat at the paper. It was funny how simpler business interactions went after he and Ella got married. Of course, he and Tommy could go down the usual course of negotiating until one of them pulled out a grenade or a gun. But both of them were well aware the other was flat out bluffing. Neither of them was willing to face Ella’s wrath. So, the trick lost its fun and purpose.

“You hear from Ella?” Tommy asked once they signed documents and shook hands.

“Yeah, got a letter yesterday,” Alfie answered. The handwritten pages were tucked inside his waistcoat. He’d pulled them out various times throughout the day to reread them. Reading his wife’s words made her feel closer to her despite the difference. “They’re in Wales. I suppose she’s having fun but there’s still…” He gestured with his hand as if trying to pluck the word out of the air.

“Sadness.” Tommy nodded. “It’ll take time.”

“Right, I know.” He grumbled and slipped off his glasses. How strange it was to have Tommy as sort of a confidante? Of course, the man wasn’t an expert on the relationship. But at least he was there and listening. Alfie wasn’t about to start monologuing with Anthea and Cyril. The day he did that was the day he committed himself to an asylum. “Just miss her.”

“The whole family does.” Tommy nodded in agreement. “But I think we’re all hoping she finds some clarity. That’s the end goal, aye?”

“Yeah and…” Alfie paused and held up a hand. His brow furrowed. “Hang on, did you just group me in with your family?”

Tommy hadn’t realized what he said. After telling his sister Alfie would never be considered a part of the family, he’d been carefully walking the line. Sure he could consider the man his brother-in-law for legal purposes. But to see Alfie sitting in future family meetings made him want to both laugh and cringe in horror.

“I think you’re reading into things.”

Alfie raised an eyebrow. “Here’s the thing, Tommy, I’d rather be hung from me fucking thumbs than be considered a Shelby. So you don’t hafta worry ‘bout me going ‘round saying I’m a part of your fucking family. Just married your sister. We ain’t brothers.”

“Touching, Alfie, truly.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Roddy was possibly the largest dog Ella had ever seen. He very well could’ve been the largest dog on the planet. But Isabel treated him like he was her baby. A massive Irish wolfhound, Roddy hit well above Ella’s waist. He was taller than her standing on his hind legs. Despite his unthinkable size and wolfish appearance, he was just as gentle as Cyril. It was a good thing he was around too because Ella missed her dogs. Having the shaggy gray-haired dog was a good comfort.

Isabel took Roddy along with them on their early morning walks. For the first few weeks, Ella got physically sick nearly every morning. But her friend still insisted they go out. Ella complied but didn’t make it very far. Less than half a mile and she was begging to go back to camp to lie down. As the weeks turned into months, they traveled further every morning. Often times bringing food along because they wouldn’t return to camp until after lunchtime.

Ella went barefoot as she used to as a child. The cold earth beneath her feet was soothing. She kept her right hand out to the side, grazing across the rough bark of passing trees and the fragile leaves of bushes and flowers.

Three months in, Isabel, Roddy, and Ella found a beautiful clearing. They were stopped near a town called Geufron on the River Severn. Ella had done her best to take no notice of the distance they’d traveled. She was afraid that if she knew how far away, she was from Alfie and her family, she would panic. Instead, she kept following them west, never calculating how long they traveled between each stop. She simply was wherever they landed.

Roddy loped through the clearing, scaring away a few birds. He dropped to the ground and began to roll around in the long grass. Isabel laughed softly and found a spot to rest.

Ella sat as well and watched the wolfhound traipse about. Despite having most of her withdrawal symptoms faded, she was still left in a dark space. Being out in nature helped somewhat, but the sadness felt almost permanent. How could she possibly ever get back to her past self? The woman she was before returning to Small Heath?

“You were crying last night,” Isabel commented gently after a few minutes of silence between the two.

Of course, her friend heard her. The two slept only feet away from each other. “I’m sorry, didn’t meant to wake you.” She mumbled and picked at her nails.

“You always apologize for things that don’t need apologies, El.” Isabel pointed out with a frank smile. “Have you ever apologized to yourself for treating yourself so badly?”

Ella gave her a funny look. “Apologized to myself? For what?”

“Well, have you been very kind to yourself lately? Or have you been negative?”

The question was a difficult one for Ella to really think about. What nice things could she possibly say to herself? Kudos for losing your children? Good job for getting hooked on drugs? Bravo for screaming at your husband more times than you could count? “Negative.” She finally admitted.

“You’re still angry.” Isabel noticed.

She shrugged. “I suppose. I’ve got a lot to be angry ‘bout.”

“Scream.”

“Huh?”

Isabel gestured to the open, empty space around them. “Go on and scream. Get some of the anger out. It’s doing you no good just stirring up inside you.”

Ella scoffed and shook her head. “I’m not going to scream.”

“So, you’re just going to keep it balled up inside of you?”

The question was hauntingly familiar. Hadn’t Ella said that to Tommy at one point? Gazing blankly at the blue sky above them, she realized how much she had turned into her brother. “Fuck.” She grumbled and stood up. For a moment, she felt stupid. But then something punched her in the gut. It was anger, anger at so many things and so many people. Raw hurt and pain that had been eating her from the inside out. Tears stung her eyes and she began to scream. She kept at it until her lungs began to burn and her voice went hoarse. When she finally lost the energy, or she was satisfied enough, she looked up. Roddy was staring at her, his tail and ears perked up in confusion. Isabel was smiling.

“How was that, then?”

Ella took a deep breath. Admittedly, she did feel a bit lighter. “Felt alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ab-.” Alfie frowned and peered at the name again. “Abers-Aberysh-fucking hell.” He scratched the back of his neck.

Aberystwyth.

That’s where Ella said they were headed towards. A town by the ocean in Wales. Their journey west would come to a stop and they’d head south before heading back east. Ella didn’t tell Alfie, but she had a choice. Isabel gave her the option of going back east with her family or meeting up with the Youngs to go further north, thus prolonging her time away.

Still, Alfie didn’t question the date of her return. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure her. But he couldn’t help but have a sickening worry for her all day and all night. To say he didn’t trust the Lees was an understatement. Despite being married into a family of Travelers, the Shelbys weren’t nomadic so Alfie could relate to them a little better. But the Lees were always on the road. It made him uneasy, not to mention he didn’t know any of the clan.

Tommy had to reassure his brother-in-law that the Lees were allies. Had been ever since Esme married John. And despite John’s fatal fate, that alliance was still strong. The Shelbys had grown substantially stronger than they were over five years earlier. Tommy assured Alfie that the Lees were well aware of the consequences if something were to happen to Ella.

However, many times he was told this, it didn’t completely sway Alfie’s opinion. Did he think Ella was in immediate danger? No. But he couldn’t imagine any good came from constantly being on the move. If she hadn’t been sending him letters the entire trip, he might’ve gone insane.

She was brief, to her husband’s dismay. But Ella described some interesting things and people they came across. It was a much simpler way of living, as she wrote, and most of the day-to-day tasks went into keeping camp. Doing chores took much longer than they did in the city and filled up most of the day. But she seemed content with this. She gushed about how nice it was to be around horses again and to be submerged in the Welsh wilderness. It made Alfie smile when she spent an entire paragraph writing about the family of deer, they came across one day. She couldn’t get over the speckled fawn with its spindly legs and fidgety movements.

Reading her write about the simpler things in life reminded Alfie of how they fell in love. When she admitted she wasn’t very worldly. Alfie could scoff at that statement looking back. Sure, maybe she hadn’t been to France or even have left the country. But she saw the world through lenses that some people could only dream of. Her gentle and thoughtful nature was beginning to blossom again. As well as her fiery spirit that had nearly been snuffed out by the coal filled air of Small Heath.

So, while Alfie worried, he also gained some hope. It was just a matter of time before his Ella returned to him. He couldn’t wait to see the light in those blue eyes again.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye @octaviareina @mylovelykelsifer @doubletriplepowerbomb @ramblingbaby @fuseburner @kaetastic

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Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #tommy shelby #shelby sister #shelby ofc #polly gray #oc #tom hardy #tom hardy character #cillian murphy #cillian murphy character

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alolanrain · 4 years

Note

5 love kids??? OOOOOOOH please can we hear about all of them in extreme detail? Sorry I love your pokemon posts!!! :)))

Awww thank you!!! ❤️ and sure! I’ve written a good background for all of them and Much Older!Ash and Raihan are hunted in the background.

Oldest are fraternal twins: Cadenza Kasumi Alexander-Ketchum and Lunala “Luna” Takashi Alexander-Ketchum

Cadenza is five minutes older than Luna and takes more of Ash’s personality and height wise, even though she’s three inches taller than her Papa. She isn’t Pokemon battle inclined like her Athair (Father in Scottish Gaelic) and Papa. She’s more artistic than book smart like her sister. Later on in life she makes a seperate much smaller business to the way bigger one her Grandmama, Raihan’s mother Celeste, she makes formal clothing and has commissions open for other kinds as well. She’s very good at making affordable dresses of all kinds that have pockets and a lot of women's suits that fit better than the ones already out there. Even though Cadenza takes after Ash height and emotion wise, she really does physically take after Raihan and Celeste. She has long curly hair that is ombré from yellow to a deep bright red at the bottom. Her eyes are just as blue as Raihan’s and her Grandmama Celeste. Her skin is a bit lighter then both of theirs but much darker still to Ash’s and Luna’s much paler tone.

Luna follows her Grandmama’s foot prints and is now being mentored to take over the multi billion trainer wear/Pokémon necessity company that’s even bigger than Devon Corporation. She’s the logical, book smart, edgier, shark tooth side of the coin to Cadenza’s Sun rays, sweet tooth, artistic side. Luna is extremely smart and both Raihan and Ash struggled a bit to find the right course of school to put her through that would keep her focused and entertained while also keeping her on track and not let Luna consume it all in one sitting like she wants to. She’s absolutely perfect for the role of CEO of the company. It gets handed down to her when she reaches twenty three and she is recorded as the youngest CEO in the world. She has fluffy black hair like her Papa’s that is cut just a little below her ears. She’s two inches shorter than her Athair and is just as skinny as he is. Her eyes are the same whiskey brown as her Sobo’s (Grandmother is Japanese) and Ash’s. She’s a bit paler then Ash like when he first started out traveling in Kanto and she can not get a tan for the life of her, unlike her sister who tan’s pretty easily.

It was actually Raihan who pushed for Misty and Brock’s Kantonian name’s to be their girls' middle names. Ash had actually wanted to propose the same idea earlier but was too afraid Raihan wouldn’t like the idea. When both girls were born, and after Raihan, Delia, and Celeste were able to hold the twins, Misty and Brock were able to hold them. Both definitely cried.

The girls are about four years old when Ash brings in a batch of triplet boys; Dace Celeste Alexander-Ketchum, Dimitri Kukui Alexander-Ketchum, and Dante Hanako Alexander-Ketchum. Raihan and Ash didn’t mean to name their boys all with names starting with ‘D’s… it just kinda happened.

Dace grows up more Pokemon oriented than his sister’s and fellow brothers. Much more like Ash was at the beginning of his journey and his personality leans more towards the soft yet very strong type of person. After his third Pokemon journey he goes through Unova and defeats Champion Trip soundlessly and takes the man's place as the new Unova Champion. He’s very kind like Alder was, but a lot more attentive then both past Champions were. He now has to constantly deal with Iris trying to challenge him every time they meet though since “She was supposed to be Unova’s new Champion!” He and the rest of his siblings have brown hair like their Sobo and not as tight of curls like Cadenza, Athair, and Grandmama have. It’s more loosely curled and almost just as fluffy as their Papa’s. His eyes are just like Luna, Papa, and Sobo have, though there are big flecks of bright blue throughout his eyes. It’s kinda hard on Dace because he’s blue-yellow color blind, but his Pokémon helps him and so does his family who’s extra supportive of him.

Dimitri is more books and study base like Raihan kinda is. Explores more in the hidden scriptures, scrolls, and learning about dead languages. He and Raihan bond over poetry and Galar’s old myths, Dimitri bonds with Ash by going through his Papa’s much more friendly memories with Legendaires in the world. He becomes a world renowned architecture, researcher, and digger. Dimitri was also mentored under Roark and Byron for three years and a half before finding a whole lost city in Sinnoh that was just barely mentioned in some very, very old scriptures he and everyone else couldn’t really make out. The city was all built in a very large cave that was bigger than the Lumiose tower. Dimitri’s personality swings more towards Raihan easy going attitude but he also picks up a strict nature from both his Grandmama and big sister Luna since Dimitri had wanted to hang around Luna and Grandmama at any moment he can when Papa wasn’t off traveling for his two Champion titles and Raihan wasn’t teaching Gloria (the female MC of SwSh) into taking over his gym. The only difference physically is that Dimitri has bright green eyes like his Grandfather Rose. Mew has also actually taken a liking to Dimitri since the boy is so far the most respectful digger/researcher there is in the world so far.

Dante grows into the love of cooking and baking. He ended up becoming one of the top culinary chef’s in the world and was personally taught by Brock, Cilan, Mallow, and his Sobo Delia before she passed away from old age. He starts up a few different kinds of cooking shows and is also kinda like the Gordon Ramsay for the Pokémon world. He’s brash with older adults and very sweet and understanding with young trainers and young kids. He loves his parents a lot and Dante’s favorite memory was his Papa showing all kinds of holiday recipes to Dante when he was a young boy and all his siblings and Athair were in the living room watching Tv or doing something else. He has more blue then brown in his eyes then Dace and he takes pride in what he’s accomplished in life so far.

#wolfy answers #ash ketchum #gym leader raihan #fangshipping #fangkids

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redfoxwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 24)

Welcome! Happy Friday! Kit does in fact Live! Who knew, right? I got the cold of death this week and I swear to GOD I’ve been asleep more than awake. But those who have been keeping up with the family bullshit that has knocked this to biweekly updates and killed my will to write- Cora’s getting a 504 plan so she’s promised the same accommodations she’s getting now from the teacher in the following years. WooHoo! Still some kinks to work out but I *hope* to be writing enough to get this back to weekly updates by the end of March.

Clint x ofc, Series rating: M, Series warnings: Pretty much every Trigger warning that can exist is in this series at some point.

Masterlist

Feed me coffee

Chapter warnings: None

Chapter 24: Going Up

The cold nipped at her cheeks and nose. The heavy coat she wore had belonged to Laura and was two sizes too big, at least. Clint had told her Laura had gotten it while she was pregnant with one of the kids. It smelled like the house and nothing more, a fact for which Deanna was beyond thankful for.

A bitter cold snap had rolled through the area and while Clint had no trouble at all keeping the farmhouse, greenhouse shed and chicken coop warm enough, it did put a damper on their plans. She had made it clear to Clint on the fourth day that she wasn’t prepared to be a mother again. They needed to at least attempt to retrieve Elsa’s mother.

Because of her unwillingness to wait out the cold spell, Clint made damn sure she wouldn’t suffer from exposure. Strapped to her back, under the heavy coat was Elsa. Her body heat combined with the protection of the coat assured them that the small body would be warm enough.

Clint had driven them a good ways, circling the city in the distance. He assured her that the paths they were taking would keep them out of sight of any scouts. In truth, he hadn't expected them to have any scouts but it was better to be safe than sorry. Finally, when he had picked a way in, he parked the truck off the road and wedged it under a large pine. The sagging branches helped hide it but there wasn’t much that could be done about the tracks themselves. Trust trotted along, keeping pace at their heels, unconcerned with the cold.

It was early in the morning, the sun had only began to rise as they started walking. They hiked through the snow for what felt like a lifetime. Clint lead the way and she fallowed in a half asleep daze. There was no sign of another person as far as she could see.

The city loomed in the distance, growing larger with each passing hour. They walked by moonlight alone. Clint didn’t want to use a flashlight and while she understood, Dee didn’t exactly have her feet under her. She wasn’t used to traversing more than her home in the dark. Snow and ice crunched under their feet as Clint guided them along animal trails.

When he reached out and squeezed her glove covered hand with his own, it reassured her. He didn’t expect her to know everything or to be battle ready. He was kind and patient with her even as he urged her forward at a grueling pace.

They walked toward a large building, the largest on the outskirts of the city. She knew what was in store for her, but Dee wasn’t even remotely excited about it.

The glass windows were broken in on the ground floor and many on the second had been shattered as well. They carefully made their way inside. Clint carried the dog over the sea of broken glass, whispering to himself about having to find or make booties for the pooch to protect his feet in the future. Such care was enduring to Dee. He took such good care of them. She couldn't imagine a life in this new world without him.

“How far up are we going?” Deanna asked. Clint pulled open the door to the stairwell, finally clicking on his flashlight.

“All the way. I want on the roof.”

She watched as he worked. It was fascinating, the things he looked for to assure their safety. He checked things she didn’t even think of. like dust on the ground or types of trash. As he worked, he whispered a play by play of what he was looking for. He taught her with the hopes that if she ever had to do this alone, she could.

The flashlight illuminated the landing where undisturbed dust had settled. He shone it under the stairs, checking that no one was hiding out before shining the light up the stairs. Only when he was sure that everything he could see had been untouched for a while, did he start them up the stairs.

“Never treat a stairwell as the only way up or down.” He whispered as they started on the stairwell leading up to the third floor. “Most of the time there is at least one more stairwell at the other side of the building. If it’s in a corner- you can almost count on there being three more- one in each corner.”

She’d never thought about that. There were so many things she had never even thought of. The thought plagued her. Even if she hadn’t hurt her ankle that day, how long would she have really survived? Would she have embraced a group like this, learned to look the other way to protect herself? Would she have been taken captive by one? Would she have tried to fight back only to end up dead on the side of the road?

How many people were killed by groups like this? She knew what was left of the Avengers team, fractured as they were, were working to restore something resembling order to the east coast. Clint had told her how their hold had spread farther and farther west but until proper order was restored, this was life for who knows how many people.

It was hard not to think about the state of things when all she had to do was climb stair after stair. Her legs burned. She wasn’t in any shape for this, though she expected to be in much more pain than she was in. Her body had become stronger over the last four months and she largely hadn’t noticed it.

“Has there been any word for New York?” She whiskered, growing tired of listening only to the sound of their boot falls and her racing thoughts. As they reached the fifth floor, they began to feel safer in their solitude. No one was around.

No one stirred, not even a mouse.

“They’ve located the VP a while ago. He’s something resembling stable now.”

“Stable?”

Clint shrugged. “The decimation- it was hard on everyone. He lost a lot of his friends, parts of his family. For a while it wasn’t looking like he could lead the country.”

“I guess he’s President now?”

“Yep. Rhodes is pretty much in charge of the air force for now. Not sure if he’ll stay in that position as they fill the ranks. Probably, anyway. They’ve put a call on the AM radio stations for any and all military personnel to make their way east. It’s hard to say how many will show up. I guess it’s been a small trickle.”

“That’s good though, right?”

“Yeah.” Silence spanned for a few moments, broken only by the sound of their boots. “I’m not going though. I told them, I can’t. I won’t.”

“It’s good though, that things are getting figured out. Maybe soon people like King Jacob won’t be a problem anymore.”

“People like King Jacob and his band of thugs will always be a problem. Always have and always will be.”

It felt like a lifetime before they reached the roof. They stopped, feeding the baby a few floors from the top. She was young enough that being settled close to Dee’s skin was enough to keep her quite. Little Elsa was staying warm and spent much of her time sleeping. When she was awake, Dee hiked her higher on her back and used the hood to shield the small head, allowing hr to look around some. The baby likely mostly had a view of hair, though. It was the thought that counted, right?

As Clint looked over the edge of the roof, Dee sat near the door and played with little Elsa. It was better to see to the child now, while she could than have the baby want attention or need a feeding while they were in a dangerous spot. There wasn’t much she could do to control the timing of a soiled diaper beyond pray that it didn’t make her cry when they needed her silent.

“Let’s go.”

Dee must have dozed off with the baby in her arms. Clint’s voice startled her awake. Golden morning sun shone out over them. It wasn’t by much but they didn’t leave in the ‘early morning’ like Clint had said. Just because the clock read ‘AM’ didn't make it ‘morning’ but she hadn’t argued about it. Still, half past two was ‘early morning’ in Clint’s book. It had to be something close to six or so, now.

Just as everything that goes up must come down, they had to walk down the stairs- one flight at a time. They went faster down, having gravity on their side. Still, she never wanted to look at another stair again in her life. Ever. Clint was going to have to carry her up the stairs of the farmhouse if he wanted her to go back inside it.

Assuming they both survived.

She followed him, staying close on his heels as they moved through city streets. Clint didn’t tell her much about the path they took beyond that it was safe. Or rather, pretty safe but that was as safe as anything got when they were off his property. That had to be good enough.

For a few hours, they trucked through snow as they worked their way deeper into the city using alley ways and working to remain hidden. The sun hung low in the sky still, providing long shadows for them to move through. Still, it was impossible to ignore the way her anxiety climbed right along with the sun.

She could almost taste the relief when they slipped inside the building Clint had picked out. It was sweeter than any candy she had had. Still, Clint moved them into the building slowly. He thoroughly checked the ground floor, ensuring it was empty before leading them up the first flight of stairs.

This building was taller than the prior, which was why Clint had picked it. Each flight of stairs was harder than the last to climb and after four flights, it became clear that she needed a break.

Clint ordered her to wait in the stairwell, of the fifth flight as he checked the floor. She agreed willingly, causing him to worry. They worked little Elsa out of her jacket and made her a bottle of formula. It wouldn’t be warm like it should have been but the water was at body temperature at least, having been stored in an internal side pocket of her coat.

Once they were settled, Clint started on checking the floor for any sign of use. Some windows were cracked but most were intact, keeping the bitter wind out. Fine dust covered the ground, far more dust than would be expected for how long the building had sat empty.

He knew what that dust was. People who had been here and been lost. People he had failed. It was a toxic thought and he worked to push it away. Now wasn’t the time to think of the people that the heroes of the world had failed that summer.

Right now, what mattered most was that he didn’t fail to protect Dee. What mattered was that he did everything within reason to protect Elsa and reunite her with her mother. What mattered was that those who were taking advantage of others were punished.

He couldn’t find any sign of human life on the floor. Sure, rat activity seemed to be present but he expected that. Rats would be a problem in any city right now. Once he was satisfied that the floor was empty, he set to work barricading the other stairwell doors.

They would rest. They needed to rest and eat but he would only allow them to do so once he was certain that there was no way to get on or off this floor without him knowing. Only when he was satisfied did he go back to Dee.

Wordlessly, he ushered her out of the stairwell and into the floor. It was filled with cubicles and desks. The black screens of computers taunted her with the memory of what had been. Dust floated up around their feet as they walked. Clint lead the way to a small office, probably having belonged to the floor manager. The door was closed but the walls were lined with glass windows, giving it a view of the whole floor.

Inside, there was very little dust. The dust in that office was light and lacked that oddly oily nature that the dust created out of people by the decimation had. When it happened, the room had been empty and the door closed. It was clean.

Dee sat on the floor and set baby Elsa down next to her. As she laid next to the baby, her back popped in places. It felt so good to be off her feet, to have the weight and strain off her legs. Trust laid down next to Elsa, keeping his side touching the small baby, providing her warmth.

Clint left the door to the office open as he sat on the floor next to them. The backpack he carried was large and heavy. It felt amazing to have the weight off his back. Soon, soon they would be in place and he wouldn’t have to keep carrying it for much longer.

He planned to let them rest for the next hour or two. It wasn’t nearly as much rest as he knew Dee needed but it was as also far more than he wanted to give them. Opening the backpack, he set to work unpacking it. He set a foam bowl out and filled it with water for Trust. The dog had largely been eating mouth fulls of snow as they walked but was eager to get a proper drink anyway.

On a paper plate, he dumped a can of wet dog food. That excited Trust. With the dog taken care of, he grabbed up the baby and gave her a change. She’d drank most of the bottle that Dee had given her and was now more than content to eat her toes for a while.

“Is that safe?” Dee asked as he set out a small propane burner designed for camping and lit it.

“Yes and no.” He answered, setting a small metal pot on and popping open one of their cans of stew and dumping it inside. “You normally use them outside, the fumes build up and are toxic. But the floor is open, the door is open and we won’t be allowing it to burn long enough to put us in danger. The exposure is worth having a hot meal.”

He was right, the meal did much more to help her recover her strength than she had expected. There was still the throbbing ache in her legs and back but she felt significantly less like death. The idea of walking up the rest of the stairs however was still something she had no interest in doing.

After eating his share, Clint pulled himself to his feet and Dee audibly groaned. “Don’t worry Babe, you don’t have to get up yet.”

“Oh thank god.” Dramatics were on full force as she made a show of sighing and relaxing against the wall. Before, she’d never liked dramatics. She felt that they were pointless and a waste of time but somehow, with him, they felt natural and she often didn’t even realize she was doing it until later. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to see what we can see from here.”

“What if someone sees you?”

“We’re too high for most people to see us unless they are looking from another building.”

“And they could be.”

“But unlikely. This lot seems not inclined to climb stairs. No one’s been in this one or the last building. Seems safe enough to assume they likely are not high in the others.”

“Safe enough?” She mocked.

Clint rolled his eyes and made his way toward the windows. While he felt reasonably sure enough of his calculation that he wouldn’t be seen, he wasn’t going to dance naked in front of a window either. “There’s going to be a glare on the glass from the sun anyway. It’ll be hard for anyone to really look for long enough to notice movement.”

“If you say so.”

He did say so. Again and again he told himself that as he peeked down through the glass. Ever calm and sure of himself on the exterior, Dee would never guess that there was a steady river of anxiety running through him.

He knew she was right. It was dangerous to approach the window. It put him in the open. He could be spotted. He could be shot. But there was always a risk. He had to weigh that risk against the benefit of information. Right now, he needed information to keep them alive.

He hadn’t told Dee, but he had caught sight of movement in some buildings as they had made their way to this building. There was only so much he could do to keep them in the shadows but there was a chance that King Jacob’s gang knew that there were outsiders in the town.

If they were lucky, no one thought anything if a couple walking through the shadows. Should he have told Dee? His mind was at war over it. It wouldn’t do any good to stress her out, to raise her anxiety levels even higher, right? But there was a part of him that knew she couldn’t be prepared to defend herself if she didn’t know there was an additional threat.

He shook his head and pushed the thoughts away. It was important to focus right now. The binoculars were wedged in his pocket and he had to work a bit to get them out. Even as he worked them free, he kept his eyes trained on the buildings across. There was no movement in them that he could see.

With the binoculars, he was able to take a closer look. There were clear paths through the snow that gave way what roads were most trafficked. Other roads were untouched by human footprints and mainly filled with animal tracks. People moved down below.

They were dirty people. Some were clearly injured. Most were not dressed for the unusual cold. Small groups gathered around trashcan fires, warming fingers. There was a consistent lack of women and younger children.

Everyone he could see looked tired, thin and ragged. They were not weathering the winter well. Turning his eyes toward the city center park, it was clear where King Jacob set himself up. There was a stage built and things hanging from rafters.

Bodies. There were bodies swinging in the wind. One had to be no older than 14.

King Jacob needed to die.

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @usedtobegoodfriend96, @acoholic-muffin, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @carissime72, @myoxisbroken, @coyotesongwriting, @wegingerangelica, @faemapfae, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123, @tnystrk-exe

#clint x ofc #clint x oc #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton x oc #clint barton x ofc

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frozenartscapes · 4 years

Text

AN: I don’t entirely know what this is. I’ve seen a few au fics with Byleth becoming a dragon because of her connection to Sothis, and I just thought... What if...

---

It was said that dragons were fearsome beasts. Their thick scales were nearly impenetrable. Their claws could slice through any armour. The fire so hot and filled with magic that only the purest of souls could face it and survive.

There was a reason she was called the Immaculate One.

But dragons were also misunderstood. Humans saw them as terrifying monsters, and while that might be true of some dragons, it didn’t serve as a worthy label for all. While some dragons seemed greedy, hoarding large masses of gold and jewels, others barely held onto anything. While some terrorized the land, others preferred to stay hidden. Dragons, in a way, were very much like humans.

But if there were one fact about dragons that was universal, that spoke for every one of the creatures, big or small, aggressive or passive, it was this: all dragons would risk heaven and earth to protect their greatest treasure.

Just what that treasure was, however, was entirely up to each dragon.

---

They ended up facing Rhea alone. The rest of the Strike Force was held back, keeping the few remaining Knights away. The last thing they needed was a rogue Knight interfering in their fight with a dragon.

Byleth ran to her right, while Edelgard kept left. Together they charged, their weapons glowing with energy. Rhea roared furiously, attempting to swipe at them with massive claws. They both dodged and managed a solid blow each to the dragon’s thick hide.

Rhea roared again, pain evident this time. Before the pair had a chance to regroup, Rhea whipped her tail around. Neither of them could prepare for the blow, and they were both sent flying backward to the ground.

Edelgard slowly pushed herself up. Aymr had been tossed a little further away. She must have lost her grip on it when she hit the ground. Thankfully, she still had her shield, and used it to lift herself to her feet with a grunt.

“You,” Rhea growled viciously, her distorted voice reverberating in the Emperor’s damaged ribcage.

Edelgard braced herself, head snapping up to look for the dragon. There was a brief moment of relief when she realized Rhea wasn’t focused on her.

Panic suddenly rushed in when she realized who was the dragon’s focus.

“Give her back!” Rhea roared, stalking toward Byleth who was still struggling to stand. Edelgard remembered, now: Byleth had pushed her aside just before Rhea’s tail hit...

Byleth, while still on one knee, merely met Rhea’s eyes with a defiant glare.

“Then I will take my mother back from your ashes!” Rhea shrieked, rearing her giant head back. Energy gathered in her mouth, fire and magic growing bright and hot and deadly.

Edelgard didn’t think. If she had, her brain would have told her what she was doing was the dumbest thing she could have ever done. But Byleth wasn’t going to be able to dodge the attack in time, and the Emperor still had a shield.

Just before the dragon fire could consume Byleth, something stopped it. It streamed out on either side, heating the air and charring the ground, but something was diverting it. And that something was a five-foot-tall, furiously determined woman armed with nothing but a shield.

Edelgard felt her feet beginning to slide in the dirt, but she kept pushing. The heat was near unbearable. She could feel her skin and hair beginning to burn. She could barely breathe, the air more like fire in her lungs. But Byleth was still behind her. And Edelgard would not lose her again.

The bronze and gold of her shield were beginning to melt. She was frankly surprised it lasted this long. Rhea was pushing, but she was beginning to fade. Just...a few more...seconds...

The shield finally gave, being ripped apart by all that magic and heat. Edelgard had only enough time to close her eyes before being consumed by the dragon fire. Byleth, acting solely on instinct dove to the ground and rolled, getting singed but avoiding the worst of it. Rhea gave up not long after.

“El!” Byleth screamed, only just realizing what had happened. Her grip on her sword tightened, and suddenly the only thought in her head was that that stupid dragon had to die.

But then a noise. A groan. Followed by a weak, “My...teacher...”

Byleth looked behind her, and spotted a darkened figure several feet away. Forgetting Rhea, Byleth raced over to her. Edelgard was already pushing herself to her feet. She tossed the handle of her shield - still warped from the fire - away. Her brilliant red armour had been charred black, and much of her hair had been stained grey from ash, but otherwise, somehow, she was fine. Just weary.

“How did you survive that?” Rhea demanded furiously as Edelgard reached for Aymr - which she had been conveniently thrown closer to - and stood up to face her, “No human can survive a blast like that!”

“I don’t want to make it sound like I’m agreeing with the dragon,” Byleth uttered frantically, “But... El...”

“I’m fine, my teacher,” Edelgard replied between heavy breaths, “I can’t explain it. I don’t think I ever can. But all that matters is I’m still standing now.”

Byleth swallowed hard before resolve took hold once again. “Then let’s finish this.”

---

“Now that it’s over...”

“I told you already, my teacher, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Edelgard was about to argue but a wave of vertigo swept over her, forcing her to grab onto the desk in her tent. They had returned to their base camp after securing Fhirdiad, Rhea defeated and the Knights surrendering. Everyone was a little worse for wear, but none quite so much as the two who had taken on the giant dragon. Neither had wanted to leave the other alone, so they had both decided to return to Edelgard’s tent together.

“You’re paler than normal, El,” Byleth said, her face contorted by worry. It was more emotion than either of them were used to, given recent developments, but that wasn’t the most pressing thing at the moment.

“I’m just tired, Byleth,” Edelgard sighed, “I has been a long day for all of us.”

Byleth frowned and pressed a hand on Edelgard’s forehead. Her frown only deepened. “You’re burning up,” she said.

Edelgard swatted the hand away. “You just came back from the dead! You don’t get to start fussing over me like this when it should be the other way around,” she complained, pouting a little in the way Byleth secretly adored.

“El... You jumped into dragon fire...”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“You should be dead, Edelgard.”

“But I’m not. I’m here. You’re here. We’re both here now, together, and nothing is going to change that again if I can help-” She gasped suddenly, wincing and grasping the side of her head in pain.

Byleth opened her mouth but Edelgard beat her to it. “I must have struck my head. It’s just a headache,” she said quickly.

Byleth crossed her arms. One look into the Emperor’s stubborn gaze and she knew this was a fight she wouldn’t be winning any time soon. “Fine,” she relented, “Just...just get some rest.”

“You’ll stay, won’t you?” The shift in Edelgard’s voice was almost painful. How it went from strong and confident to timid and small, like a child afraid of the dark, was too much to bear.

Byleth smiled. “Of course.”

She helped Edelgard take off the horned crown that had become tangled in her hair, and then the pair settled under the covers on the bed.

---

Byleth awoke first. El was still asleep beside her, her breathing level and her face relaxed. It was still dark in the tent, but she could see that El had more colour in her complexion again, and Byleth sighed in relief. Maybe she had just been tired last night.

It was just...seeing her disappear in that fire...

She shook the thought away. Carefully, she reached out and ran a hand through Edelgard’s hair. They had only just recently begun sleeping together, more out of necessity than anything. El’s nightmares had picked up significantly after facing Dimitri and Byleth’s company had been the only thing that helped. Byleth didn’t mind. If anything, she adored it. And now, with her heart beating and emotions flooding into her mind, it felt almost overwhelming. All the warm, happy feelings as she held El tight. Like she was being smothered in pillows.

El’s hair was always so soft compared to her own. Byleth loved running a hand through it. She especially loved the way El would melt into it, even when asleep. A little smile would form on her face and she’d let out a soft, happy sigh.

But then Byleth’s hand was stopped by something. She frowned in confusion, feeling out the hard, ridged object in El’s hair in the dark. It was cool to the touch, smooth, and curled around El’s forehead. It tapered off to a point, almost like...

Had El put her crown back on during the night?

Byleth sat up and reached for the nearby lamp. With it lit, the first thing her eyes landed on was the Emperor’s golden crown, still exactly where they had left it on the desk the night before.

Byleth felt her newly beating heart stop, just for a second. Huh. So that’s what people are talking about when they speak of shock...

She peered down warily at the sleeping Emperor. And she couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping.

They looked almost exactly like the crown. Perhaps a little less shiny. And they swept out a little further from her head, and stood a little taller. They were also sharper.

“El,” Byleth whispered urgently, shaking the Emperor’s shoulder perhaps a little harder than she wanted to, “Edelgard, wake up!”

Edelgard groaned and reached up to rub the sleep out of one eye. To Byleth’s relief, nothing else about her had really changed. Her eyes were normal, albeit a little droopy from waking up before she was ready. Her skin was the same. No scales or any other worrying signs. Hmm... Were her ears a little pointy? It was hard to tell.

But really, it was just the...the...

“What is it, my teacher?” Edelgard asked. She was staring at Byleth with concern, a frown already working its way onto her face as she noticed her distraught advisor.

“Um... You, uh...” How exactly does one tell someone these things? Byleth was absolutely certain that if there was a way, she’d be the last person to know it. At a loss for words, she merely mimed with her fingers, bringing her hands up and tracing out the shape from the sides of her head.

Edelgard tilted her head slightly in confusion. Slowly, she followed Byleth’s vague instruction by reaching up to her own head. When her hand met it, Byleth figured El thought the same thing she had, because lilac eyes suddenly flew to the desk where the crown still sat.

After that confirmation was made, Edelgard shakily began to investigate, carefully working her hands along the smooth surface to the very tips of both growths. She paused a little to poke the tip of one with her finger, flinched, then pulled her hand away to reveal a dot of blood on the tip of said finger. So they were apparently really sharp...

Edelgard met Byleth’s eyes again and there was a solid minute neither of them said anything. They merely stared at one another, unsure of what to think, feel, or say. Edelgard broke first, though, and the usually articulate Emperor of Adrestia barely managed to stammer out:

“I...um... I appear to have... Horns.”

---

AN: I have no idea where to go from here or if I even should. I just liked the idea of Edelgard being able to turn into a dragon. Nothing would piss Rhea off more, and Edelgard probably wouldn’t be thrilled about it too much, either. But it would maybe give me an excuse to write a post-war interaction with El, Byleth, Seteth and Flayn. Because if anyone would know what exactly happened...

Also all the shenanigans. Edelgard not used to having horns (because she could take the crown off if she ever needed to and you can’t exactly do that with something growing out of your head...). Maybe her ears change into something more like Sothis’ (Elfgard?). As a result, her emotions end up being more obvious despite her best efforts because her damn ears keep giving her away. Maybe she gets fangs. Maybe the state of her appearance actually hinges on emotion and feeling certain things makes her more dragon or human. All of the Black Eagles reacting differently. Some of them take it well. Some do not. Some ask if she’ll give them rides on her back when she learns how to fully transform (Caspar... Byleth...).

I don’t see her turning into a full-sized dragon. She is still human, after all. My only explanation I can think of right now is that by choosing to save Byleth - El’s treasure - she demonstrated having the heart of a dragon so she didn’t die by the dragon fire. Rather, it sort of... Changed her. But she’s always been protective of Byleth and now even more so. And all her Black Eagles. Her treasure.

I don’t know. If anyone would like to contribute to this, I’d be happy to talk about it. @patricia-von-arundel, what do you think about this?

#fire emblem #fe three houses #fanfic #au ideas #edelgard #byleth

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visenyatargaryn · 4 years

Text

— OC INTERVIEW

tagged by the lovely @chuckhansen and @queennymeria!! thank you both so much!! 💖💖

tagging: @aryastrks, @troyebakers, @tyvians, @callmeredhood, @sonyarebecchi && @myrcella (if you’ve been tagged already, then ignore this!)

Name: Evangeline... Zotova

Are you single: No, I’m not.

Are you happy: I... I think so, yes. Definitely yes. To be honest, I haven’t felt true happiness for quite some time. Ever since... well, you know. I had almost forgotten what it felt like... to be happy that is.

Are you angry: Right now? No. I think I’m finally at peace now, thankfully. If you had asked me that a few months ago... my answer would have been different. Back then... I was so angry at everything. The world... the Institute... and myself.

Are your parents still married: I don’t know how to answer that since they’ve been dead for over 200 years now. My mother died while giving birth to me, and my father... well, let’s just say he wished it was me that died that day. However, if it wasn’t for me being born and the world ending... I do believe my parents would still be married.

Nine Facts

Birthplace: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Vibrant green.

Birth date: September 21, 2048

Mood: Currently? Exhausted since Hancock didn’t let me sleep much last night. Shit.. sorry, that was a bit too much information wasn’t it?

Gender: Female

Summer or winter: Summer. I hate the fucking cold, although the alternative does give me the excuse to snuggle up with Hancock.

Morning or afternoon: Mornings. I like how peaceful they are... a fresh beginning to a new day.

Eight things about your love life

Are you in love: Yes, and honestly? It’s the best feeling in the world. It’s strange... you think you loved someone in the past, thinking they were your happily ever after... but fate has different plans for you. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Daniel, but he’s dead now and I’m still alive with a long life ahead of me. And with Hancock.... things just feel different? I’m not one who believes in soulmates, but perhaps that’s what this is?

Do you believe in love at first sight: No, love doesn’t just come on a whim... it takes time to manifest.

Who ended your last relationship: ...A man by the name of Kellogg. He umm... he murdered my husband, Daniel, in cold blood. I’m sorry, but can we please change the subject?

Have you ever broken someones heart: If I have, then I have no recollection of it since I was always the one with the broken heart and not the other person.

Are you afraid of commitment: Yes, more than you think. All my life... people have been leaving me since I was a child. Hell, my own father abandoned his own daughter and fucked off to God knows where. I’ve been cheated on, and I’ve been used and left behind like some kind of fucking useless object. So yeah, I’m terrified of commitment, because the entire relationship is always one-sided in the end.

Have you hugged someone in the last week: Hancock, and only him.

Have you ever had a secret admirer: More like stalkers. When I was a... dancer at a night club in Philly, I had my fair share of creeps. It wasn’t bad at first, hell I thought it was kind of nice to have some admirers you know? They would send flowers mostly, but eventually, it became an actual fucking nightmare. There were letters. They started out as simple love letters... then they became more vulgar... and finally came the death threats. Thankfully the security in the place was decent enough to keep them away... or so I thought, but that’s a story for another time.

Have you ever broken your own heart: I don’t think so, no?

Six Choices

Love or Lust: A healthy dose of both isn’t a bad thing, actually. They are two sides of the same coin are they not? Although, I must admit that I have made a lot of poor life choices... lust being a factor in many of them.

Lemonade or Iced Tea: Lemonade. I remember when I used to live in Sanctuary before the bombs fell. The children would often put up lemonade stands during the summer, and let me tell you... the competition was neverending.

Cats or Dogs: Dogs. I love cats, don’t get me wrong, but dogs just provide better companionship in an apocalyptic world.

A few Best friends or Regular Friends: The first option I suppose. I don’t have many friends anyhow, and those that are... I trust them with my own life.

Wild night out or romantic night in: Night out. I love hearing Magnolia sing down in the Third Rail... her voice is just so soothing. Besides, it kind of comes with the package deal when it comes to Hancock.

Day or night: Nights. It’s peaceful. The world is put on hold for a few hours, and it’s a good time to just relax, you know?

Five Have You Evers

Been caught sneaking out: No. My father never paid much attention to me while growing up, so I could do whatever I please.

Fallen Down/Up the Stairs: All I’m saying is that I had a disagreement with gravity that day, and it won.

Wanted someone/something so badly it hurt: Yes... a daughter shouldn’t have to beg her father for a relationship now, should she?

Wanted to disappear: There was a time when I wanted to, yes. I wished it to be more... permanent, however. I had lost everything, and I no longer wished to keep going because what was the point? Everything about my old life was gone, as it was reduced to nothing but ash and dust, and I was a stranger forced into a foreign place.

Four preferences

Smile or eyes: Eyes. They’re something that’s easily read, and like they say... the eyes never lie.

Shorter or taller: Taller.

Intelligence or Attraction: Attraction... bonus points if they have some intelligence in them though.

Hook up or Relationship: Relationship. I’ve had my fair share of hookups... and it’s just not the same. There’s no connection, you know? It was an alternative I sometimes used to forget things... when alcohol no longer numbed the pain.

Family

Do you and your family get along: No. I never knew my mother since she died during childbirth and as for my father... he had no love for me. Yeah, he raised me and cared for me, but that’s as far as that went. I saw the way he looked at me, with such deep sadness and hatred. The sadness because I was a spitting image of her... my mother that is. As for the hatred, well he blamed me for what happened, and when he was in a drunken stupor... those nights were the worse. In all those years, however, he never hurt me... not physically anyway. Although, there are times where I find myself wondering whatever became of him. Did he live long enough to see the world end? If he did, then did he survive? Was he able to make it to a vault in time? Did he become a ghoul? I know I’ll never know the answers to these questions, and it’s foolish for me to ask myself these since there was no love between us. I guess that’s just the detective in me wanting answers for the unexplainable...

Would you say you have a messed up life: My life is a complete fucking mess if you ask me. I witnessed my husband’s death and the kidnapping of my son. Then I had to end my son’s life because he was now the head of some evil cooperation. And to top it all off, I’m now living 200 years into the future... in a world that was reduced to nothing but ash and dust all because the world leaders decided to play God. So yeah, saying my life is messed up is putting it lightly.

Have you ever ran away from home: Yes, but only after my father decided to leave one day without any signs of him returning... so I just left as well. Did I wish to run away prior to that? Absolutely. Except I had nowhere else to go, and I was far too young to live on my own.

Have you ever got kicked out: Surprisingly, no. I always expected my father to tell me to pack my bags at some point, but he never did.

Friends

Do you secretly hate one of your friends: No. If I hated someone, then I would let them know right away how I feel about them.

Do you consider all of your friends good friends: Yes. We have all been through a lot together and there are none other I would consider friends than them. Nick had been there every step of the way when it came to finding my son, and I would trust him with my own life... just as I had done the same with the real Nick Valentine. Codsworth, well, I know he’s just a robot, but he’s been a good friend and has always been supportive... and he was there since the beginning, before the war that is. Dasiy is a spectacular woman, when I first came to Goodneighbor she welcomed me with open arms... and our talks are just so wonderful since we’re both from the same time. Then there’s Hancock, of course, we’re more than friends now, but he’s... well, he’s everything I could ask for in someone.

Who is your best friend: Do I have to pick one? Because I consider all of my friends as such, but if I must choose only one, then it’s Hancock. He’s a great friend and more; Hancock was there for me when I was at my lowest point... I had just come out of the vault and I was in a shitty place; being plagued by nightmares... extreme depression... and I was a fucking alcoholic. He never walked away though, no matter how hard I tried to push... he pushed back harder. He took care of me on my bad days, and I... I don’t think there are any words or deeds that could ever be used to thank him for it?

Who knows everything about you: Hancock and Nick both perhaps? I mean, Nick has the memories of the real Nick Valentine... who I happened to work with for a time before the war. Hancock... well, there are no secrets between us, and he basically knows my entire life story as does Nick.

#only if you want to of course!!!#and if anyone else wants to do this...#you're more than welcome to do so!!!#oc: evangeline zotova

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synechd0che · 4 years

Text

Aim Your Arrow at the Sky (I’m so Tired Now)

For the 2019 Tolkien Secret Santa Exchange run by @officialtolkiensecretsanta

Recipient: @stand-up-and-fight-daleks

World: Silmarillion (First Age Middle Earth)

Rating: Teen and Up

Pairings: none (general audiences)

Characters: Celegorm, Oromë, Curufin

Summary:

The bees in the west field hum as Nerdanel works, star-wife, clay-shaper, the bright babe of scarlet mother hears the wind-whisper of little things.

Author’s note:

Title from Florence and the Machine’s “Sky Full of Song.”

I didn't tag this as Graphic Violence because it's not super detailed, but there is a passage towards the end that has some gore. If you want a synopsis of the passage so that you can skip reading it, please message me and I'm happy to do so.

I will post this on AO3 very very soon, at which point I will attach a link on this post. Otherwise, I’m Barefoot_Dancer on AO3 and the pseud I use for Tolkien related works is Lorinand_Lost.

Aim Your Arrow at the Sky (I’m so Tired Now):

The little one is in the vegetable garden, cloth-swaddled, brilliant-haired. He inches beneath the fruit vines, out under the humid canopy of gourd leaves. A mole he catches; it wiggles the moist star on its nose, sable fur dappled in tree-light. Dirt-digger, brother-mine.

And the little one whispers, root-feeder, brother-mine, and he turns him loose to burrow.

The leaves part and his mother’s face appears. As mothers do, she wipes berry juice from his cheeks, gives a scolding for his clever escape. Back into her shawl he is wrapped.

The bees in the west field hum as Nerdanel works, star-wife, clay-shaper, the bright babe of scarlet mother hears the wind-whisper of little things.

...

The old forest is ancient-dark, loam-rich, and the air is full of the creakings of the mossy, the time-bent. The little one is now a childling, taller than the sword ferns and shorter than the elderberry.

Little-water-swimmer, the brook gurgles. The childling drinks, and the water is clear and sweet.

With a leap he's an arrow, a ray of light, and he's reached the lowest branch of the spruce. A third of the way up, he finds a nest, four pale blue eggs, and the disgruntled parents, fretful and feathered.

Egg-eater, whistle the wood thrush in their woven home, Bird-catcher.

He climbs to where the branches are whip-willow thin and the sun lances through the needles, to where the wind whispers.

…

Deep in the wood, there is shadow, under beech and oak of interminable age. Everywhere is covered in their leaves, and everywhere not covered by leaves, in a deep moss. The childling is now a youth, tall and lean, his gold hair braided back. He carries his spear, ash-haft, heart-finder. The youth kneels, feeling the moss. The hare has come this way, light-footed, liquid-eyed.

And there it is in the underbrush, and there the youth lunges in pursuit. Then everything blurs in a dizzying, frenetic sprint, and he is a boy, and he is the hare, and then he has it by it's haunches. It goes still, looking at him with one golden eye, sides heaving. Fleet-foot, danger-tooth, and as a plea, brother-mine. The youth feels another set of eyes on him, and looks up slowly.

In the clearing, in the heart of the forest, there is a stag standing in a shaft of light. There is ivy in his antlers, and then he is a man. In a breath, the shade of a deer, gleaming bone and wet sinew. And then a man again, with the stag's head. He moves between these aspects as he says in a voice as old as time, boy-prince, swift-runner, come you now a-hunting?

The youth lowers his spear. Forest-lord, monsters-bane, Oromë.

Gather for me the waltalís nectar from their cliff-face hives, and you may join my wild-hunt.

~~~

Around in a circle are the other Huntsmen. They bear torches, stamp to the beat of a hide drum, sing in a tongue that sounds like the running hare, the charging boar, a diving hawk. Oromë stands at their head, motionless; he has taken the form of a man, dark skinned, braids capped with bone beads.

There is a wind in the cliffs, and the old harvesting ropes groan. Overhead, the bees whir and circle lazily. In one hand, the youth holds the harvesting basket, in the other, a long wood shaft tipped with a blade. He seeks purchase on the ropes with his knees, his bare feet, toes white-knuckled to the jute. He begins to climb.

Inching his way to the top is slow, and grueling. The youth is cold from the sweat-damp tunic that clings to his chest, and the ground is dizzying down below. The bees grow louder. Flightless-brother, knife-bearer. They spiral down from their nests, humming around him, alighting on his clothing and on his bare skin. The youth can feel their little feet as they bump their way over his breast bone and into his tunic, their gossamer wings across the eyelids that he screws closed.

When he can hear the hive above him, he raises the long blade to cut. The bee-music swells. elixir-thief. And they bite him, quick flashes of pain that bloom and burn. They bite at his exposed feet, the youth cries out, tethering himself into the ropes tighter. Now they crawl across his lips, and he locks them shut; they carry with them their sticky and bewildering nectar, made from the cliff flowers that give visions and heat and euphoria.

But they do not stop biting him, and in anguish he cries Shining-wings, sister-mine, Queen, I beseech thee! The nectar is in his mouth now, and there is a fire behind his eyelids and in the sky as the sun sets. It is bitter, it is sweet, and he burns. And the queen says, Take with care and temperance our madding-sweet, thee who speaks with little things. The biting ceases, and the youth fills his basket. Thanks-be, golden-daughter.

With his descent can hear a wild music, and the air moves in strange forms with languid intent. Below, he can see Oromë, and his head seems to shift between aspects - deer, decay, man - antlers grasping at the sky and weaving like vines.

When his feet hit the ground, the youth crumples. Oromë looms over him, washed in torchlight. Turkafinwë you are, father-named for strength and pride.

…

It is dark here, except for the fires burning on the northern horizon. The youth is of majority now, forest-hardened, valinor-soft. Below him in the valley, the goblin army, tortured-legion, unfortunate-brother. Under him shifts his horse, a dappled grey mare. She snorts, unsettled by the smell on the wind, puissance and suffering. Gentle-girl, Turkafinwë murmurs, Peace-be, safe I keep you. She nickers, settling.

When the ground-crawlers and night-wrigglers bring word that the orcs are in the Vale, Turkafinwë lights his torch. In a wave behind him, his men light theirs. There is the rolling sound of ringing steel being drawn, and then it is a hot-rush mad-scramble down the hillside. There is a shout in the air, and a wave of lights charge down into the orcs, who are night-blind with the sudden fire.

Down past Eithel Sirion and into the Fens they are driven, hunted and harried by Turkafinwë and his men, splashing and stumbling into the salty water, muddied and bloodied by the horses' hooves.

Their screaming sounds elvish. And their blood looks elvish as it streaks his blade and soaks into his hair. Some cry for mercy, some cry curses, some fall silently and their bodies relax into a peace cheated from them in life. Turkafinwë surges forward; for mercy, for vengeance, none will be spared here.

Silence falls, except for the groans of the wounded. Overhead, the carrion birds wheel. Brother-hunter, fearsome-fighter, blood-glutted you are, and now we fall to feast. The spirit of Alqualondë is in the air, or maybe it is just the sea air. In the water, elvish hair and orcish hair appear identical.

Tyelkormo he is by mothers-wisdom, the hasty-riser, hot-blooded.

…

Snake's-brother, Orodreth names him, lie-smith, brutish-betrayer. Turned out from Nargothrond in the dead of night. He mourns Huan, and his brother mourns his son; both are living dead, and neither will see their loved one again on this side of the sea. They are shades in the forest. They hide in the day, and travel at night as traitors under a sliver of moon. They seek their brothers' company.

The birds gossip about him, the beasts ignore him. He hunts for food, and his prey fall with baleful glares and die inelegantly, and he can hear them cursing him.

He is not Turkafinwë, he is not Tyelkormo, he is Celegorm in this new language that he speaks poorly and of which understands little, and silence is now his friend.

…

In that blood-haze, in those dark caves lit with glittering lamps, he can feel that familiar oath-madness creeping at the tips of his bones.

Behind him, there is a cry, and he turns to see Caranthir with an arrow sprouting from his jugular. On the causeway above him is Nimloth holding a great yew bow. Celegorm screams like it's his throat in which the arrow is buried, like a panicked horse, like a she-wolf protecting her pups. From his belt, he frees his last dagger. Willing it to fly like a bird, that Oromë and his teachings haven't quite abandoned him, he looses it. His aim is true, and the Queen of Doriath falls.

A scream rings in answer to Celegorm, ripping from the throat of Nimloth's human husband. King Dior charges him, broadsword raised. When their swords meet, all else falls away. Celegorm is dimly aware of the tears on Dior's cheeks, and that he is crying as well. He thinks he can kill this man, who is only human, but when Caranthir, falls with a groan, Celegorm's world freezes. He is too late to block Dior's blade, which slides through his breast plate like cold fire. He coughs blood, grabbing onto Dior's pauldrons to support himself. But in Dior's hasty fury, Celegorm's sword has also found its mark. The light leaves the man's eyes, and he and Celegorm fall as one.

The cold seems to spread from the wound, racing across his body and relieving Celegorm of oath-madness. He cannot push the blade free, but he does have the strength to pull Caranthir toward him, to roll Curufin into his lap. Celegorm listens as their breathing slows, as they go limp in his arms. Now, with bloody faces and sightless eyes, they look younger than they have since departing Valinor.

At last, he too can rest. Cold darkness comes to claim him, rolling over him like a wave.

…

When Celegorm awakes, there is fog, and out of the fog come gleaming eyes. A pack of wolves ring him, and they speak with Namo's voice. Welcome-be, kinslayer, oath-keeper.

Well-met, doomsman, spirit-master, Celegorm whispers.

The wolves close in on him, and he draws in on himself. When they savage his body, he thrashes out, and then realizes that the wounds close almost instantly. This must be his punishment, he realizes: eternal torment, unbroken by death or the oblivion of the void to which he had promised his soul, but from which he had apparently been saved to experience this fresh hell.

The wolves speak with Namo's voice, naming him Prideful-child, headstrong-hunter and they tear at his arms.

The wolves speak with his little brothers' voices, naming him Failed-caretaker, and in his father's, oath-breaker, and they rip at his legs.

The wolves speak with the young voices of Elured and Elurin, naming him Butcher-brethren, child-murderer, and they rend at the soft meat of his belly.

The wolves speak with Finrod's voice, melodious and terrible, naming him Cousin-killer, home-defiler, and their teeth sink home in his throat.

One wolf nuzzles close to his throat, and says Hound’s-friend, brother-mine, and Celegorm begins to cry because that is Huan’s voice inside that wolf.

And then the wolves speak in a new voice, and they name him: Hunter who is now prey, Turkafinwë; wrathful Tyelkormo; wretched Celegorm.

And Celegorm gasps, This is my voice, Namo, you torture me with my own voice.

And they say, his blood dripping from their teeth, Of course we do, for we are you. So tell us, how do you name yourself?

As Celegorm struggles between the heaving bodies and snapping jaws, he cries I am a kinslayer and an oathmaker, I am a monster and a butcher! His head disappears beneath the sea of fur. But I am also a third-brother and my people's defender, friend to little things and silent-hunter! He surges upward, grasping the largest wolf around the neck. Above all else, I am tired, and heart-sick, and I desire only restful darkness.

The wolf laughs. You will have no rest, not here, not until the remaking of the world. And everything goes dark.

...

When Turkafinwë awakes, for the second time since his death and after an interminable age, there is sunlight.

Turkafinwë sits up with a start. "I must be dreaming!" He shouts horsely, "You mock me, Mandos!"

"Can't stand the idea that you're one of the last of us to be released?" Curufin rises lazily from his seat under a tree.

"Brother?" And then quietly, “how long have I been gone?”

"Mother says it's been about four thousand years."

“You said one of the last…” Celegorm says slowly. “Who else is left?”

“Maedhros, for starters,” says Curufin. “If I know our oldest brother at all, it’s more due to his prodigious capacity for self-recrimination and less to Mandos’ judiciary streak.”

“And father?” Celegorm asks, pretty sure he already knows the answer.

“Well, look at it this way. When I was in the halls, I only ever saw visions of Celebrimor’s torment; how do you think it feels to have failed not one but seven sons?”

Celegorm sighs. “What are we doing here, brother? Surely the council would rather condemn our souls to the void.”

Curufin laughs. “I think Manwe is something of an optimist. And I do remember one last thing from the halls - the shade of my son that I had conjured as my punishment told me before I was released that I would have no rest until the world is remade.”

Celegorm starts.

“We May have forgiven ourselves in the halls,” continues Curufin, “but out here, we must fight for the forgiveness of others. One individual seems like he wishes to be first in line.”

The bushes behind him rustle, and out steps Huan. Turkafinwë, brother-mine And he knocks headlong into Celegorm, who falls flat with a laughing face full of dog fur.

There are bees - which he can hear, but cannot see, because he is on his back looking up at the bluest sky imaginable. And the bees say Welcome-be to land-everlasting, son of Fëanor, he who hears the wind-whisper of little things.

Author’s Note:

Waltalís - derived from walta (excite, rouse, wild) and lís (honey) in quenya.

Inspired by something I read once about traditional honey gatherers who climb up the side of a cliff to collect the honey made from a particular psychedelic flower.

Concerning the battle at the fens of serech,I headcanon that since the orcs began as elves that Sauron tortured and experimented upon, the first few generations are startlingly elf-like in appearance.

I like the idea of Mandos being the rehab of Valinor. They both serve time as penitence and learn to forgive themselves. So Namo’s brilliant idea is to have people overcome their self-hatred by handling their own punishment. Celegorm feels guilt over Finrod and his younger brothers, so he punishes himself with wolves until he’s all worn out and willing to forgive himself.

#tss2019 #tolkien secret santa 2019 #tolkien #silmarillion #celegorm

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viviae · 4 years

Note

For the 25 Lore asks! II, III, VIII, IX

This is gonna be long because you didn’t specify for who so I’m picking everyone.

II.) What was your MC’s first impression of their LI? What about their LI’s first impression of them? Was it accurate or did them getting to know one another change how they saw each other?

Celica/Asra: They actually briefly met when they were kids when Salim created Celica’s first pair of glasses but neither of them remember it. Otherwise they met the same way described in canon at the masquerade, Celica wasn’t living in Vesuvia at the time was traveling instead and while she thought Asra was endearing she didn’t think much about it.

Celica/Portia: Portia came and visited the magic shop before the events of the story soon after Nadia woke up to try and she if she could get anything out of the local mysterious magician to help. They both felt an attraction to each other and Celica thought Portia was interesting and had potential but was ultimately just another curious mind who wasn’t going to provide business. Celica gravely underestimated just how much Portia would mean and that she wasn’t just a random civilian.

Celica/Julian: She hated Julian. During the plague she was high stress and tightly wound up especially as she was trying to distract herself from her and Asra’s break up. Eventually she warmed up to him more and became friendly with Julian during the plague but ultimately they were coworkers and nothing more. While Julian still gets under her skin its more playful than anything and she does wonder if she was in a better mental state if they could’ve been closer during the plague

Nefeli/Muriel: Nefeli met Muriel as a gladiator when she was a making a ‘cultural exchange’ in Vesuvia. Despite coming from a culture of pacifism and never being exposed to violence she took pity on Muriel and wanted to help but was unable to due to her mothers presence refusing to let her speak to a ‘murdering brute’. She wishes that she had known more about what Muriel was truly going through then, she wishes she was in a better state of mind back then to have defied her mother, she regrets a lot of things she did but never regretted trying to show him kindness.

Sidereus/Lucio: They met when Lucio was just a mercenary when he found a young freshly made sorcerer Sidereus who has zero survival skills dying on the side of the road. Sidereus promised to make himself useful if Lucio taught him how not to die in the wilderness basically. They had a short lived fling but Sidereus was disgusted with Lucio’s bloodlust being raised a pacifist. Unfortunately for both of them Sidereus would get over his disgust for Lucio and it will become endearing to see him grow.

III.) Where in the Arcana world map does your MC come from? What was their life like there?

Actually Celica, Sidereus, and Nefeli all hale from the country of Hesperia, which while being mentioned in Portia’s tale (Described a mysterious country with an odd accent) isn’t on the actual world map they posted. So I’ll just share some of the development I have on Hesperia for my ocs which is uhhh a lot.

Basically Hesperia is far west from Vesuvia and practically on the tail end of the continent, its a small country that is entirely based on a peninsula and was a booming economic and magical power 200 years ago with an importance on naval trading.

Unfortunately Hesperia became one of the Devil’s first attempts to merge worlds before Vesuvia and due to this the entire country is ‘corrupted’ magically. It has become a wasteland and dust storms of ash makes it almost constantly night time. Hesperia has a religion that was born due to this deceit from the Devil that focuses solely on the idea of “resurrecting the country” through necromancy and is described as a country permanently in mourning of the Devil’s slaughter of their home. They have an intense hatred of The Arcana and have a team of magical spies and wanderers whose purpose is to prevent anything that befell on their country to happen to anyone else.

VIII.) If your MC could take their LI anywhere in the Arcana world, where would they take them and why? What about in the real world?

Celica generally speaking has no where exactly they want to take them, as she has no real connection to her home country, all she wants is to travel the world with them without a care for a destination.

Nefeli has been removed from Hesperia’s good graces but would love to take Muriel there one time simply because of the fact well, Muriel is excessively normal height in Hesperia and she thinks it’d be fun to see him react to no longer feeling like a giant. Also to show him her ancestral home and all the strange flora and fauna that exists in her cursed country.

Sidereus has a lot of small towns he wants to show Lucio where the community welcomed him. He’s visited a lot of places and has a running list of areas that feel like home to him despite never living there.

IX.) Does your MC ‘borrow’ clothes from their LI or vice versa? If so, what is their favourite garment that they’ve ‘borrowed’ and won’t ever return?

Celica uses clothes as a love language honestly. They are an extension of herself and of her love so she is a clothes thief. She is a sucker for wearing scarfs of her partners (asra’s and portia’s) and shirts and will wear them out in public with no shame and loves if someone points it out.

Nefeli has a relationship of control when it comes to her clothes and wardrobe as its something before she left home she never had control over. if she steals anything from Muriel its only something she wears when they are intimate or not in public. She has borrowed his cloak a lot to sit around the hut

Sidereus is a whole foot taller than Lucio so nothing lucio has really fits him in a cute way. And his capes aren’t sid’s style. Besides he prefers seeing Lucio in something of his

#theroyalmage #eren.ask #eren.txt #celica nightingale #sidereus nightingale #nefeli nightingale #nefeli tag #sidereus tag #celica tag

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ohgoddard · 4 years

Text

Storyteller.4.

“THERE IS A DOOR IS UP AHEAD! GO!” Armak was shouting as his sword cut down a swath of screaming goblins. They had walked into a horde of horrors, a goblin city hidden from the prying eyes of the surface. The monsters had created a series of carved stone tunnels and cave systems to make for themselves a home. And it was from these very same tunnels that now dozens pour from to assail Armak and Holly, who were running for their lives. Holly was bruised and bleeding, some deep lacerations striking on her legs and arms. She was busy muttering some arcane language under her breath as she touched the stone walls, vines running along them and catching the legs of the closest goblin foes. “Armak, I cannot walk!” For as much as Holly plays up things, this was no joking matter. Not too long after they descended from the cave mouth in search of a way out, they had been attacked by a goblin rear guard. Although Armak had easily dispatched them, this was not done quickly enough. Holly was jumped by one of the slimy creatures and pinned to the floor, and before she was able to throw it off her the beast had stabbed its daggers into both of Holly’s legs. Now she hobbled in the cave and not for very long, needing rest frequently.

Armak shot a look at Holly and grimaced at her condition, her face looking far more pale than it usually does and her eyes were beginning to close. Armak turned to face his adversaries again, their legs stuck in vines and unable to move, and this is when he made his gambit. He dashed from his defensive hold and grabbed Holly under his arm like a stack of wood. His breakaway gave room for more goblins to spill over their stuck comrades and come assault. Armak was nearing the stone door he was talking of earlier and, in a feat of great speed, threw Holly in before him and quickly closed the heavy door. He was in luck, as there was a bar he could use to prevent the goblins from breaking it down, at least for a small amount of time. After he was certain the door was closed and fastened, the sounds of metal hitting stone outside it’s protective barrier telling him the goblins have not yet ended their attack, Armak surveyed his new surroundings.

The room was bare, save for two braziers and yet another large stone door which rested inbetween them. Holly was resting against one of the braziers, her breathing slowing down from the hyper-ventilating she was performing earlier in the constant fights from the cave entrance to here. Her once well kempt braided hair was now pulled from its keepings, and was now freely resting upon her shoulders in a beautiful display of beauty that was unbecoming of the setting. Her face was covered in dirt and blood, scratches and bruises. Her clothes were torn from goblins attempting to grapple her, and of course, her legs were bleeding from the dagger wounds.

Armak, on the other hand, looked just fine. Holly turned her head towards Armak, and coughed up blood. “How do you look so good still?” Armak approached Holly and sat down next to her, letting out a groan similar to when an old man sits in a large chair. “I have experience. Plus, I need to protect my good looks.” Holly let out a chuckle, but was stopped by more coughing. “Here, let me see.” Armak moved so that Holly’s legs rested across his lap and began to take off his own wraps. “It's not the best, but it is what we have to work with. It should help until we get out of the cave. Then the sun will heal you.” While Armak began to wrap Holly’s legs, she gave him a strange looked that came over her pained expression. “The sun will heal me? Do you think,” she coughs ,”do you think elves are healed by the sun?” Armak finishes the wrapping of Holly’s legs and ties a tight knot. This causes Holly to wince. Armak makes a grimace, as much as one can with a beak.”Sorry. No, I do not believe elves are healed by sunlight alone. However, being in its light has a healing benefit for all.The warmth and whatnot.” Armak carefully laid Holly’s legs to the ground before rising from her side. “I'm not sure where you heard that from, Armak. The sun does no more to heal us than the moon makes the grass grow taller.” Holly attempts to stand, but is halted in her efforts by a stern look from Armak, his amber eyes glowing in the low light. She fell back down and gave a large sigh. “Well what are we going to do now?” Armak turned his head from his elf companion and looked at the stone door that currently was not keeping goblin hordes at bay. It had writing all over it, and one that Armak was not familiar with. “I believe,” he said in his gruff voice, “our escape lies behind this. However, this writing is peculiar.” He gestures to the words that go around the door in an arch. Holly squinted her eyes at the writing, and read aloud. “Speak your story, one who hides most among you, and find your exit revealed.” Armak turned around with a look of surprise on his face, his beak opening a small amount in shock and his feathery eyebrows raised. “Since when could you speak Abyssal?” Holly gave a self satisfied smirk, “I studied ancient peoples and their cultures at my college!” Armak gave a grunt of admiration before turning back to the door. “Now, as to what it means..” Holly reached into her bag, stealing a look at the barred door holding back their would-be killers, and tried to find her book on languages. “Armak, I think it is fairly obvious as to what it mean though. The one among us who has the most to tell should really-”

“No. I refuse to.” Armak had not turned to Holly when he said this, still facing the door. Holly was taken aback. She even recoiled a small mount from him. “Armak, I can try but I think we both know who has to say something.” “I said no.”

Holly coughed up another spattering of blood, which was concerning because she was stabbed in the legs. She moved her shirt and other coverings to the side and saw something. A nail from one of the goblins that had stabbed her was protruding into his chest, underneath her left breast.

She gulped, and her face turned pale. Why hadn’t she felt this before now? Perhaps it was just the adrenaline from being stabbed in the legs but she thought..

She reached for the nail and pulled it out, sucking in air in pain the entire time. She did not want to alarm Armak, he was too busy trying to find a way out. As she pulled it out, though, blood began to pour from her wound. Her head began to grow dizzy.

“Armak, please. I.. I don’t think I have long left in this condition.” Armak still did not turn. “Your legs will be fine.” “It's not my legs.” Armak turned at this and saw now a small, growing dot of red appearing on her blue shirt. And in her hand was the nail that caused it. “Holly..what is that?”

Holly’s hands went limp and her body slumped, the nail dropping to the floor as she did.

Armak rushed to her side and picked her up, holding her as she struggled to keep consciousness. “I..think I was hit in my chest.” Her eyes fluttered shut slowly, and her breathing started to slow.

“Damn it...DAMN IT!” Armak yelled, looking at the door with the writing at it. His eyes were marked with fury and anger. The anger of a man trapped in a corner, forced to do what he hated.

“You want a damn story, door? Fine. Here’s mine.”

And as he began to speak, Holly heard his words in her sleep

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

Armak woke up, and knew he shouldn't have been able to. His muscles burned, his arms and legs were seared from fires launched into him, and his wings…

His wings.

Armak, laying face down in the dirt and ash of a battlefield, painfully moved his burned and marked arm to feel his back and felt.. holes. Gouges in his back. Armak screamed, the pain reaching him as he touched where his wings once were, now torn from him by the same enemy that put him to rest. Or, at least, attempted to. He struggled to pick himself up, taking all his strength he had, to see where he was. He had vague memories but nothing concrete. His arms and legs ached with pain, streaks of stinging and burning traveling up and down . His face, for some reason, was saved from the fires that had marked and damaged the rest of his body, a small grace in a graceless situation. However, when Armak stood up full from his dirt bed he had wished his eyes were burned out.

Fires burned bright and hot on the branches of what once his tribe’s home. Hundreds of bodies litter the ground. Some were dressed similarly to him, bare chested warriors with kilts and long swords laying next to them. Some were modestly dressed in simple clothing, and children among them. All dead. All burnt. All wingless like him. The houses that were stowed away in the trees and looked over the shore where he and his kin would fly and hunt for fish now fell out of their holdings in the branches one by one. They created meteors of fire as they hit the ground, splattering flaming cinders everywhere. Armak was speechless, observing the brutality before him. And then it all hit at once.

It had been a quiet morning, and Armak had been preparing for a hunt along with the rest of the hunters. He was in his home, putting on a hood for the cold, and strapping his weapons to his belt. His long and beautiful white and gold wings were furled behind him. He could hear the sounds of children beginning to wake and play, learning to fly and racing in the air. He could hear the voices of their mothers telling them off for one thing or another before wishing their husband a good day on the hunt. A scent of stew reached his beak and he smiled. It was going to be a nice day.

“TO ARMS! TO ARMS!” A pit sank in his stomach. Armak quickly finished dressing himself and ran outside his home and onto his porch to see what the issue was. He and the other warriors looked down from their branched homes to the beaches and in shock saw several boats were rowing to them. No one was allowed on their land, and all who surrounded them knew this, lest they incur the wrath of flying combatants. No this, this was something else. Armak jumped from his porch and began to fly down to the beaches, sword at the ready. He was joined by his fellow fighters as they dived down at their enemies in the seas.

It was an utter massacre.

As the warriors approached the boat and began diving, picking off the rowers one by one, something foul happened. Men in long robes stood at the bow and did a strange dance that Armak had never seen before. It had distracted him but for a second before at the end of the dance a ball of fire shot from their hands in a great arch and flew through the air and landed… in the trees that they used as a home. The men flew back to their homes, but this was anticipated by their attackers. Arrows were shot from previously hidden bows, and had ropes attached to them. Several of these shot through the wings of retreating warriors and were pulled down into the waters where the rowers quickly killed them.

Armak and what was left of his compatriots returned to their homes and started to evacuate everyone. To get them from the trees and to try and escape their assailants. But as they began to fly away… they hit an invisible wall. A dozen or so ran straight into it, falling to the ground several feet in the air. Armak, who was now hovering, put his hand out in front of him and felt a barrier that could not be seen. They were trapped.

What happened next was a blur for Armak, desperately defending his people from slaughter. More of those robed men came and threw more of those fiery balls into their trees. And eventually into the people themselves. Soon, Armak was the only warrior left, defending a group of his tribe by himself. Thirty dead bodies of attackers lay at his feet, Armak using several techniques with his wings to out maneuver them. It was looking as if he was to hold out long enough for them to leave, to save his people when..

One of the attackers in a robe walked calmly onto the battlefield. The bright orange fires only accented his appearance, as well as the others who attacked Armak. A yellow, lizard-esque face with long tendrils hanging from their mouth. This robed figure pointed at Armak and instantly he fell down from the sky, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. He still calmly approached him, and glared down at the warrior. And when he spoke, it was as if the void itself whispered in his ears.

“You use your wings to fight us, you and your people. Now you must walk the dirt like the rest of us. You with your flight prevent us from moving forward with our plans. Now face the consequence of becoming an obstacle. And finally, to address you specifically, oh great and final warrior of your people.”

The man in the robe leant forward as to make himself eye level with Armak on the ground. He sneered into his face.

“You will watch and see the consequences of your failure forever. Forever live with the failure of never being able to protect your people. Forever with the knowledge you could do nothing. To see all you know wither away into forgotten times and lands, and to never again feel the love of another, for they will pass.”

Each word he spoke, Armak could feel a dagger being plunged into his soul, a pain that could not be explained in any physical sense. His very being was being torn. He looked up to the man doing this and uttered one word..”Why?”

“Because you were inconvenient.”

Then all was black.

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“When I awoke, my people were dead. My wings were torn from my back, myself cursed to live forever. Flightless and forced to watch all I know and love fade away while I remain here.”

Holly’s breathing had become shallow during Armak’s story, and she had fallen fully unconscious. The goblins had not given up their assault on the barred door, the sounds of pickaxes being thrown against the edges of the frame now. Armak took a deep breath and looked to the stone door with the inscriptions written into it, and saw that it had not moved.

He gently placed Holly down onto the floor, and calmly stood, before angrily yelling.

“WHY DO YOU REMAIN CLOSED?! HAVE I NOT GIVEN ENOUGH?! DO YOU WISH TO HEAR MORE?! TO HERE HOW I HUNTED DOWN THE MANUSCRIPTS OF ARCUS CIMBER WHEN THE ACROPOLIS WAS JUST A PREP SCHOOL?! HOW I FOUND IN HIS ARCHIVES THAT I CANNOT ESCAPE MY IMMORTALITY?!”

Tears of anger were pouring down his face.

“HOW I WANT NOTHING MORE THAN TO FINALLY LEAVE THIS WORLD?! TO BE REUNITED WITH ALL MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS I HAVE MET AND BECOME LOVED?! I BEGGED A DJINNI TO END ME AND HE COULD NOT! I WAS DENIED AN END BY A TIEFLING! I WAS TRICKED INTO LIVING BY THE FEY! AND NOW I AM FORCED TO LET YET ANOTHER COMPANION DIE BECAUSE THIS DAMN!” he punches the door “DOOR!” Once again he punches it “IS PICKY TO MY SECRETS!” As he slammed a final fist into the door, he heard a bellowing laugh.

Armak backed away from the door, and as he did so a blue mist began to spew from its edges, forming a ghost standing in front of him. The ghost looked like an orc warrior, who stood with his hands crossed over his chest and a smile over his fanged face. “Why, it just takes a while to open the door, is all. You should count yourself lucky you had your friend there.” He points an ethereal finger at the resting body of Holly. “Had she not heard your story, you’d never leave this room.” Armak’s face turned to shock as he looked at Holly, who had not moved from where he lay.

“Don’t worry, birdman. She is not conscious now. But she knows enough. Count yourself lucky once again, though.” The visage of the orc warrior began to fade. “She seems like a friend worth keeping secrets with.”

As the visage disappeared, the stone door began to shake and soon it fell into the floor. They revealed a staircase traveling up, with sunlight peaking in small rays at the top. Armak wasted no time in rushing to Holly and grabbing her, racing up the stairs. The entire time he heard the laughing of the orc warrior. He didn’t really appreciate it.

Several days later, Holly awoke. Her eyes slowly opened, squinting a small amount in the direct sunlight she found herself exposed to. She slowly attempts to sit up, to gauge her surroundings. A long winding countryside with brilliant green hills and livestock tending to the overgrown grass. A small wooden home with smoke rising from a smokestack was in the distance. Holly looked down at her own body, seeing a new dressing of wraps around her legs, and she could feel them in a small amount again. Around her chest she saw another wrap with metal braces keeping her from really bending over. She could still feel the hole in her chest, but could feel it slowly healing. Maybe the sunlight really is good for elves..

“Good, you're awake.”

Holly turned quickly, which she shouldn’t have really because it caused her a great deal of pain, to face Armak.

He stood against a tree, his hood down revealing his grey and white feathered head. “I cleaned and took care of your wounds for, “ Armak looks up at the position of the sun,” past seven days.” Holly opened her mouth to speak but words failed to come out as she realized something. Wait..all my wounds?

“Yes, all your wounds” Armak spoke as if he had read her mind. “Don’t worry about it, I poured a medical concoction into it which should be closing it right now.” Holly heard none of this, as the blood was rushing to her ears. Atleast she had not been totally helpless.

Armak began to stretch. “I also had to feed you and such so you would not die. I also-”

“Please don’t say any more.” Holly managed to squeak out. No, it was as she thought. All that effort to try become the independent elf she knew she could be, gone after one stupid dagger to the chest. And legs. And numerous infections. Holly let out an internal sigh, vowing to regain her self confidence once again. However for now..

She slowly moved her body to face Armak, grunting the entire time. Armak stifled a laugh, as he found this hilarious that the usual prim and proper elf is now moving akin to a toddler. “Armak, can you come here.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Why? Do you need help standing up?” “Just come here.”

Armak walked over and knelt down next to Holly, who with surprising speed threw herself into a hug around Armak. He stayed still, unsure of what to do. “Holly?”

“Thank you. You mean a lot to me.” Armak looked down to Holly’s face, which was buried into his bandaged chest.

“Please stop trying to die. Elves live forever too, you know?”

Armak put his arms around Holly, rather awkwardly, but he returned the hug.

“Don’t worry. I gave that up when I met you.”

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