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hopeymchope · 1 year

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Kazutaka Kodaka's "DEATH COME TRUE" starts with your character — a small young man in a hoodie named "Makoto" — waking up in confusion, initially unclear on where he is or how he got there.

So. You know. Kind of a familiar start.

For the uninitiated: Kodaka is the guy who created/wrote Danganronpa.

Yeah. Now you're getting it. These opening moments feel like an olive branch to everybody who played and embraced the first DR title.

youtube

Also, if you're a Danganronpa fan? Briefly skim through this trailer for DEATH COME TRUE featuring illustrations of each DCT character as drawn by DR character artist Rui Komatsuzaki in his signature style. SO COOL.

Makoto winds up having amnesia, which is clearly a beloved trope for Kodaka. And if I'm being honest, the whole "protagonist who wakes up with some level of amnesia, leaving them to suss out where they are and why" is a beloved trope for me as well. As I've learned what kinds of stories and media leave me most satisfied and/or engaged over the years, I've come to accept that I am, frankly, a sucker for that well-worn setup.

I'm obviously a sucker for Kodaka as well — his writing has produced BIG FAVES of mine and has yet to disappoint me. I adore and admire his GDC presentation on creating memorable characters, considering it rather inspirational. Though I sadly haven't experienced everything he's done (anybody wanna translate "School of Ragnarok" into English?), I'm obviously In The Tank for this "game."

HOWEVER... ! At the risk of outing myself as a Bad Fan®, I only finally played (er... watched?) DEATH COME TRUE just last night. In goddamn April 2023, almost three friggin' years after its initial release. See... I was aware that this is basically just an interactive movie where you make binary choices on occasion, and I was ALSO aware that it's short enough to be completed in one playthrough. And so, in spite of the writing pedigree behind it, I wound up holding out for a pretty major sale before picking it up. I saw such a sale like one or two weeks ago, so here I (finally) am!

Makoto wakes up in a hotel suite where he IMMEDIATELY sees a news broadcast that identifies him as a wanted serial killer, much to his understandable horror. He then finds a woman laying in the suite's bathtub that's either dead, asleep, or unconscious. While he's still getting his bearings, there's a knock at the suite's door, and you're thrown into making your first of many choices.

I rather doubt it's considered standard practice for the evening news in Japan to put jokey newscasters wearing loud suits in front of pastels to announce warnings about at-large serial killers. But hey, what do I know?

As I'd previously heard and read, you only "control" your character insofar as you select one of two binary choices at various points in a "Choose Your Own Adventure"-type way. This remains true until you're in the home stretch of the story, which is when they finally start bringing in some choices with more than two options... but those choices have less impact than the usual binary ones, so that expansion of the concept comes out as a wash.

This is a mystery story with murder as a major component, as is Kodaka's primary wheelhouse. The main story only takes about 2.5-3 hours to reach whatever is your ultimate ending (and there are really only two legitimate endings that aren't bad endings/deaths). Along the way, Kodaka fans will recognize a number of themes and concepts he's used over the years, but I won't spoil what they are. Some of them are reused in a straightforward fashion, while others are tweaked or mildly subverted from what you might've seen in his various Dangan tales. And if you're unfamiliar with Danganronpa? Then it's surprising and it's a little weird that you're reading this, but it's gonna make the story of this game much more surprising and twisty for you.

One thing you won't see coming: His swag.

That's not to say that a seasoned Kodaka fan like myself wasn't adequately surprised and engaged at plenty of points, though! I was worried that the "live-action choose-your-path movie" format would leave me less invested than visual-novel-style mystery game with more direct control, but in actual practice, I was UTTERLY absorbed. That's right: To the surprise of precisely no one, I strongly liked DEATH COME TRUE. And given that Kodaka was both the writer AND the director of this "movie," I was really pleasantly surprised by his skill behind the camera. (Though I don't talk about it very much on this Tumblr, I've long been a movie/filmmaking fan, so let me put on that hat for a minute.) There are some dramatic camera moves and angles that served to heighten my adrenaline/tension during key moments. And although I can't say for sure how much he 'directed' his actors, the cast is goddamn excellent. EXCELLENT. I found myself rewinding to watch their eyes and subtle movements in various scenes. The performances sucked me into the narrative just as much as the story. I'm a filthy American dork who doesn't consume much Japanese live-action media, so I was only aware of two of the actors in here from their relatively minor roles in American movies. Furthermore, I didn't know the lead actor, Kanata Hongō, from anything at all! But based on his performance here, I want to look up more of his work.

Chihiro Yamamoto is the only actor here who seems to think she's playing a Danganronpa character — for both better AND worse.

Did I feel ANY disappointments during my experience? One obvious one is the brevity of the experience: I would've been happy to spend twice as long with these characters in this world. But for something like $6-$12, it's satisfying enough. My only other two disappointments were: A) The ultimate "culprit" behind everything was too easy to peg. As soon as that character first comes on-screen, they struck me as the obvious culprit behind everything, so it's unfortunate that they wound up being that predictable. And B) There's one character/actor who is just deeply underutilized/unexplored. They provide a bizarre, fascinating presence that barely has any role in the proceedings, and by the time the ending reveals of the story roll around, I can't help but wonder how they fit into this story at all?

Don't take those gripes as anything major, though. DEATH COME TRUE is never gonna have a super strong place in my heart, but I spent those few hours entranced and will fondly remember them. ALSO: You unlock achievements and videos by experiencing as many deaths as possible, so there's actually a benefit to screwing things up! The videos include behind-the-scenes "Making Of" footage as well as the full-length takes of the newscasters who are heard in the background of the opening scene. It's the latter that's especially fun, because the performers clearly knew that they were recording material that would be muffled/obscured, and they have a good time getting weird with it.

It's hard for me to look over my death medal collection without imagining they're accompanied by death metal, because homophones amuse me.

Look: Kodaka has always been clear that this was a very quick project that was rapidly thrown together and executed before he settled in and focused on writing the scenario for Master Detective Archives: Rain Code. It's his baby, but it's also a side gig. With that in mind, the shortness of the experience is more understandable. It also means that you shouldn't expect it to have the depth of his other narratives/games. It's a Kodaka snack, not a meal. But this still a snack with a ton of nutritional value and flavor packed into its small size and minimalist packaging. Take a night to experience it. As long you don't pay full retail, I doubt you'll regret it.

#death come true #danganronpa #kazutaka kodaka #video games #interactive movie #visual novels #.... ?#I mean not really but kind of... ?#game reviews #longreads #Youtube

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saturnsstufff · 3 years

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Hear me out, imainge Techno raiseing a little girl and she just brings home her first boy friend or something. Techno being Techno just reacts to this in a "hurt her and i'll kick your ass" kinda way.

This idea wont leave my head and I have no idea why.---

Also hope you have a great rest of the weekend!! :D

-🐼😐

Oh my god he would be the best/worst dad ever. Best because he would be so loving and supportive. But worst because he was so terrifying.

Also! Apologies before hand I got a little carried away (I love domestic dad techno, what can I say)

Athena- Technoblade

Warning: none, maybe protective dad Techno?

When you first had children Techno was pretty hesitant. He wasn't sure if the child would like him or despise him. He also wasn't sure if he would even be a decent father. Of course being his loving and supportive wife, you already knew Techno was utterly amazing with children. So when you announced you were pregnant, you swiftly eased Techno's nerves about fatherhood.

When your baby was born he cried, he was so over joyed at the sight of your little darling within his arms. Phil, having known the lengths and dangers of pregnancies, was glad that you had safely delivered a healthy baby girl. Almost a exact replica of you to be precise. With little ruby eyes she looked at you both with wonder. Quickly finding comfort with her Mother, Father and Uncle. Techno upon seeing her, knew she would grow to be strong. Whether she choose to be delicate as a flower, or as fierce as a warrior. He would be there to support his little girl. With that said, he only found one name, perfect enough to fit his little darling.

Athena.

Like her name foretold, she became a elegant warrior. From a young age she was driven to make her father forever proud. Of course he was naturally proud of her. But that didn't stop her from picking a bow, and sword up to challenge her father.

When she was a toddler, she found amusement and love for the little things. Athena and Steve had even become inseparable. Her father was gushing over the idea that his daughter had a love for large animals similarly to him.

Of course you were also close to her. She was your daughter, made of your flesh and blood. While Techno taught her everything about combat, you often shown her the gentle side of things.

Between You and Techno- and the rather occasional help from Phil- you guys had taught Athena to be fierce, yet gentle and loving. Something you were all very proud of.

As Athena aged she became rather beautiful, growing to look a lot more like Techno then you first had perceived. With her father's strong gaze and jawline she became a heartbreaker without even knowing it.

You and Techno both knew she was gentle and loving. But due to Technoblade being her father, many boys and women alike tended to shy away from her. Fearing of upsetting her or her father.

Techno felt bad at the idea of his daughter being alone. He knew what it was like to be shunned by most people. It wasn't something he wished his little girl to face.

You, having been the more positive person in the marriage, knew that it would just take time for her to find the right person. Sure enough, you were right.

Athena had found friendship with a hybrid Ender boy named Nathaniel. Although rather tall he was in fact timid. Athena waisted no time in telling you about her long adventures with Nathan by her side. Soon the name "Nathan" and “Nate” had become a house hold name for your family.

Of course you had met Nathan occasionally. Having seen him when you would walk with Athena to the nearby village. He was a kind and loving boy towards you, and all those he encountered. When he started bringing Athena flowers, you had more then a well known hunch of where it would lead to. As always, you were indeed right again.

One morning Athena was a bit restless in her seat at breakfast. While you fed your young toddler, you couldn't help but wonder if she was ok. You were the type of mom to let your children come to you with their issues on their own terms. Figuring to wait until they were comfortable with bringing things up, then being pushed to tell you. It worked with your sixteen year old daughter and your twelve year old son. So you planned to roll with that for your soon two year old son as well.

Soon enough she did budge. "Mom?" She asked softly. You turned to her, showing she had your full attention. She cleared her throat and poked at her egg a bit. "I invited Nathan over for today... I hope that's ok..." she asked a bit shy. Something was up, but you weren't about to pry.

"Of course that's ok Thena, he’s your friend" you smiled softly to her wanting her to feel at ease. Her brother narrowed his eyes a bit. You watched your son from the corner of your eye. He knew something. Your middle child took after Techno expression wise. The look he was currently giving his sister, was the same look Techno gave you when he knew you weren't telling the full story. With your youngest in front of you asking for more food, you slowly moved your attention away from the eldest children.

"Will dad be coming home today?" Your son asked curiously. You herd the bemusement lace his tone. You hummed and put a spoonful of oatmeal into the toddlers mouth.

"I believe so. Phil and Your Father said they wouldn't be long with the Mansion run" you said looking over to him. With your youngest now almost two Techno started up his usual runs again. When you had a baby in the house he was always hesitant to leave for too long. Of course you always told him you would be fine. Thankfully your children were well behaved and easy to keep track of- that is unless your oldest son felt the urge to annoy his sister of course.

It was about a little after noon before Techno and Phil had returned home. Your toddler was the first to see them from the window of course. Calling out "daddy" and insisting that you all go out to meet him. With no hesitation you scooped up your baby and wondered out with your kids. Athena was smiling brightly. But you could also tell she was on edge.

When Techno rode up to the house your toddler was thrashing for him. Only easing up when he was handed to Techno. Your husband had the largest smile as he took his son in his hands. Asking if he was missed. You gave Phil a warm welcoming smile. Hugging him when he dismounted from his horse.

While you stood by Phil talking about the trip, your youngest children were hugging there father when he came down. Happy to have him home once again.

Athena, although overjoyed that her dad was home. Found her attention drawn to the young Ender boy approaching from the tree line. The two hugged happily when he met up with her.

Techno had traded your toddler to Phil. Making room within his arms for you. With your body pressed up to his, you turned your head to give him a warm welcoming kiss. But instead paused to see Nathan and your daughter hugging. Techno, expecting a nice kiss started to pout. But he soon stopped when he saw a unfamiliar boy with his little girl.

You had previously met Nathaniel, however, Techno has not. He’s only herd about this boy. So he was a bit skeptical.

Athena didn't hesitate to bring Nathan over to your little family. With Techno and Phil in full armor, you felt a bit bad that shy Nathan had to meet them this way. Your sons stood with Phil, your youngest within his arms. You stood in front of Techno, your husband towering over you with only his hand on your shoulder.

"Who is this?" Techno asked, his eyebrow slightly raised in question. Athena smiled hesitantly. Nathan quietly looking Techno over.

"Dad... This is Nathaniel... That boy I always talk about" you smiled warmly at the boy. Saying it was nice to see him again. He gave you a shy, but warm smile in return. Techno's eyes lingered over Nathaniel. Almost summing him up. "Nate.. this is my Dad and Uncle..." she said pointing. Nathan stepped away from Athena's side. Slowly stepping up to you and Techno. With a hesitant arm he held his hand out to Techno for a handshake. When Techno shook Nathan's hand, the size difference was easy to spot. Where Techno had strong calloused hands, Nathans were limber, long, and soft. Easily one of his Enderman traits he possessed.

Techno didn't make direct eye contact. Having remembered when Ranboo stayed with you two years previously. Ranboo had off hand mentioned making eye contact was seen as a hostile move to Enderman.

"Its very nice to meet you finally, sir..." Nathan said rather quietly. Techno although on the fence. Didn't choose to try and be intimidating. Instead he kept his normal monotone voice.

"It's nice to meet you too"

Nathan ended up staying for dinner that night. Athena and Nathan mostly stuck together, but both were a bit nervous you could tell. But again you didn't push it.

After dinner Phil took the kids outside for a late night walk. Figuring he would leave you and Techno alone for a bit. Of course you weren't fully alone. Athena and Nathan stuck about. With the two sat together on the couch, Athena ended up falling asleep on Nathans shoulder.

Well you and Techno talked in the other room at the table, the last person you expected to see was Nathan. He quietly walked in and waited for you two to finish talking before he began. "I... I uhm, have something to ask you s-sir" Nathan began uncertain. You gave him a kind smile and motioned for him to sit.

When he sat he looked between you two. Mostly looking for reassurance from you so he could address Techno. Techno didn't push, he just calmly waited for the boy to speak. "A..Athena really cares about your opinion... And.. I... I know I want to do this right..." he was stumbling over his words. You could tell he was nervous. Quietly you just told him to take a deep breath. He nodded and did so. Waiting a moment before continuing. "W...with your permission as her Father... Could I please date your daughter?... S-she means the world to me... all I want is her happy..." Nathan was shying away from Techno. Almost expecting him to yell or something.

Techno watched a bit and thought on his words. Truthfully Techno was proud of this boy. Everyone was terrified to date his daughter, yet a shy Ender boy had purposefully stepped aside to ask him for permission. "I suppose I'll let you..." Techno said slowly. Nathaniel's shoulders visibly relaxed at Techno's words. Of course techno narrowed his eyes after, becoming serious "just know I was your age. If she ends up pregnant anytime soon, I'm coming for you" Techno meant it. Nathaniel went red and swallowed thickly before slowly nodding.

"Y-yes sir...."

#technoblade #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #techno x reader #techno x you #fanfic #fanfiction #minecraft fanfiction #minecraft x you #dreamsmp x reader #tb

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house-of-no-regrets · 3 years

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No Regrets [in the wee hours]

Took a bit longer than expected, but I’ve finished the next little story! Hopefully I’ll be able to keep a decent pace on these. No overarching plot, just little stories in the same universe with the same characters. Warning for ~*murder*~ in this one!

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I've been all-too-easy to wake up since I was a child; I'd often needed to go from dead asleep to functional, if groggy, as soon as I heard my father demanding action or attention. While I no longer need that reaction time, the old man long since locked up to rot, my brain is set in its ways and very convinced that I need to be able to bolt out of bed and fight God if a dust bunny moves too quickly in my vicinity.

Which is how I found myself waking up in the middle of the night, the sudden shift in the atmosphere bringing on consciousness with all the subtlety of a foghorn.

My room was silent, still, but I knew without opening my eyes that there was a spirit somewhere, and I didn't even give them a chance to speak before I pointed at the sign posted on my wall, barely shifting from my comfortable snuggle in my blanket and not even opening my eyes. Yes, this happens more often than I care to admit. No, I do not enjoy it. At all.

"Resurrection hours are noon to eight. I'm still alive and still need sleep to function."

There was silence, but the presence didn't leave, so I groaned and raised my head, finally opening my eyes to see the translucent, vaguely glowing, and unfortunately blurry spirit at the foot of my bed.

It did finally speak in a bewildered voice.

"Um, I'm being murdered."

Ah, fuck.

I grabbed my glasses from the bedside table and put them on. The spirit at the foot of my bed was tallish -- I've always been bad at estimating height, maybe half a foot shorter than Yvette? Five-nine... ish? -- and seemed to be in his twenties. There was a considerable dark stain on his chest and belly; likely blood, and the cause of his death. The newly-dead tend to show things like that, as they haven't had the time to get used to modifying their form.

I really hate it when brand new ones find me. I'm not sure how it started, but it seems like more and more often, now, the dead are drawn to No Regrets before they even realize they're dead, at least if they're the type to need my help. Wish I wasn't the one who had to break it to him. I'm not great with people.

"Sorry, bro, but I'm afraid they succeeded. Where was it? I'll get the police over there."

"Uhh... my house. I think. It's a little..."

I sighed. Right.

"You're probably a little out of it still... fresh dead usually are. C'mon, I'll take you around until things look familiar."

Climbing out of bed, I headed over to grab my hoodie from the back of the chair. I learned the hard way that sleeping is not a tits out sort of occasion when you're liable to get the dead dropping in at all hours of the night, so I sleep in pajama pants and a tank top. Little too chilly for tank tops outside, though. I shoved my phone in my hoodie and my feet into loafers, then started heading out of my room and down the hall.

"You remember your name?" I asked, trying to make conversation and learn what I could.

"Uh, Davis. Craig? Craig Davis."

"Well, Craig Davis, I'm sorry to hear about your passing. You're gonna need to possess me for this little adventure, by the way, but I'll walk you through it once we're outside."

"I- what?"

Considering how often I find myself lost in normal conversations, dealing with confused new spirits is especially difficult. Still shaking off my body's angry demands for More Sleep was not helping matters in the slightest, either.

"Possession. I'll explain it in just a minute." I rubbed an eye and yawned as I stopped in the foyer to pull a set of keys off one of the hooks on the wall.

Usually, I've got a driver. Not for vanity reasons, but after three or four near-misses caused by Sudden Spirits appearing in the car with me, I elected to hire someone to drive me into and around town as needed. But it was Fuck-This-Shit O'Clock in the morning, and Graves deserved their rest. The dead don't need to sleep, but they can if they so choose -- and it does, after all, conserve energy. The same goes for Yvette and Ashby; it was too early in the morning for most people to be out and searching for a necromancer to kill, so I wasn't gonna disturb them. I could handle a simple spirit chauffeur and 911 call on my own.

The keys were to the motor scooter; it was the better choice in this situation, allowing for more mobility and no passenger seat for any extra ghosts to drop into. That did, though, mean that Craig would need to ride shotgun in my body.

When I got out to the green scooter in the driveway, I paused and looked over at Craig.

"Hey, I know you're probably still a little out of it, so Possession 101." Script time. At least having this stuff memorized made it easier to do while dozy. "Our bodies need to take up the same space, so c'mere." I beckoned Craig over.

"So like… step into you?" He asked. Good, seemed like his head was clearing up some.

"Yeah, that's part 1."

He nodded and complied, crossing the space between us and settling in the same location, the two of us clipped into each other like bugged NPCs. It always felt so weird, those moments before a spirit actually possesses you. A sort of wobbly, in-and-out feeling like physics is trying to crush you and the spirit together, or, failing that, just kick your ass to the ground so you're not both in the same place at the same time.

"A'ight, now turn around and face the direction I’m facing, and overlay your hands onto mine as best you can." It was just a moment for him to obey, and I continued. "I'm not resisting, so you're gonna start feeling like you're being pulled in and pushed out at the same time. Space is trying to equalize. Let yourself be pulled in. It's gonna feel a bit like-"

The whirlpool effect kicked in before I could finish, the sudden snap and release of tension as Craig's spirit sank into my body. I wobbled a bit and grabbed the handlebar in front of me, then shivered at the sudden chill and dizziness. I'm pretty good at taking on passengers like this, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

"You in there, buddy?" I asked out loud. Especially with new spirits, trying to think at each other was more trouble than it was worth. My lips moved to answer, though it wasn't my voice coming out.

"Uh- yeah. Yeah I'm here."

I grabbed the helmet hanging on the other handlebar and snapped it on, kicking the stand up and plopping heavily onto the seat.

"Great. Let's go."

"Wait, why am I not in control?" came Craig's confused voice. He felt almost frustrated, an undercurrent of emotion that wasn't mine despite being in my mind and body.

"Because this is my body, and I let you in willingly. Easier to keep control when you're letting someone in. Plus," I gave a little snort. "You just died, dude. I've been letting spirits possess me since middle school."

I felt his frustration turn to grumpiness, and then the pressure in my head, like a storm rolling in, that I knew from experience was him trying to take control. I froze and let out an irritated huff.

"You stop that. I'm not dealing with you doing some dumb shit with my body. Either chill out or get out."

"Oh- uh. Just wanted to see if I could…"

"Uh-huh. Anyhow, now that you're together enough to try joyriding, do you remember much about where you were before you were killed?"

I started up the scooter as emotions rolled through my mind, detached and distant, almost like the muffled dissociation I was used to mid-shutdown. Possessing spirits' emotions always felt weird like that, both mine and not mine, held at arm's length. Craig's was especially turbulent for a new death, but given that he had been murdered… I didn't fault him for being a little confused and angry. Even if it did put me a little on edge.

"Uh- South Pine Street, Dogwood Acres housing development."

"Baller. That's not far from here. Once we get close to your body, you should be able to feel where it is, so I'll have a house number for the police. Don't want to have them scream in all blue lights and loud sirens and have your killer go to ground before they know which house, y'know?"

The muffled flare of anger that I felt was definitely not my own. I took a deep breath, hoped that the killer had panicked and tried to clean up instead of get rid of the body first, and puttered off towards Dogwood.

The housing development was quiet, lines upon lines of identical suburban boxes lit by flickering street lights that cast the sidewalks and yards in harsh white light. The occasional house had the glow of yellow within, but most of them were dormant. Weaving my way through the maze of streets, each one absolutely indistinguishable from the one before and the one to come, I felt terribly exposed -- and alone despite the spirit currently hitching along in my body.

I turned onto South Pine and brought my scooter to a puttering stop, stabilizing it with both feet on the ground. I couldn't help but bounce my legs to replace the vibration of driving; the sudden lack of sensation would ratchet my anxiety up even if I wasn't currently letting a frustrated dead man hang out in my head to catch his murderer.

...I should be more than a little anxious, really, but half-asleep Tabby once again wrote a check that more-awake Tabby is having to cash, and more-awake Tabby is very used to having to deal with the consequences of her idiot decisions. It occurred to me that normal peoples' consequences didn't usually involve murder, but when you live with the dead, you're bound to meet a few killers.

Two houses down, I could feel- not a tug so much as a presence, an echo of Craig's spirit reacting to his body. It was the only one on the street with its lights on and its garage, while not lit, was open. There was a car in the garage, another in the driveway, and a pickup at the curb in front.

"258?" I asked Craig, though I knew the answer already. His anger flared and I felt the oncoming storm again. I snapped at him. "That's two strikes, Craig. I'm sorry for your death, but if you end up driving my body into a crime scene or, god forbid, getting me killed next, I will kick your ass to whatever afterlife you're headed for and stay there to keep kicking it for eternity."

Big words for a short fat lady, but this is, in fact, my body on the line right now. I probably wouldn't be able to follow through on any ass-kicking, but dammit, I would try.

Craig was silent, and I could feel him steaming, petulant like a child denied a toy but with the power of a grown man behind it. With my stomach tying itself in knots and my hands starting to tremble, I dialed 911, hoping it would help quell the rising panic.

"258 South Pine Street. I think there's been a murder. I don't know the state of the crime scene or if the perp is still there, but you might be able to catch them if you hurry. The victim is Craig Davis, white adult male, either shot or stabbed in the chest, likely multiple times-"

"Wait, is this Tabby? The necro girl?"

Oh god I hope that isn't what the operators call me regularly-- I know I'm a bit of a 911 cryptid, since the usual intruder calls are to the non-emergency line, but if I get known as the necro girl I might have to move to a different state.

"Yeah, uh, necromancer, yeah-" I couldn't help but stumble over my words, now, with my train of thought derailed by the interruption. "-uh, murder?"

"Right! I'll send someone."

I murmured a thanks and hung up before she could ask me to stay on the line. I already had to stay around for the cops so Craig could give a statement, and making small talk with the 911 operator was not in the spoons tonight.

I don't like cops much, but in my line of work, they're kind of a necessity. I need to stay on the police force's good side because I need them to remove attempted murderers from my property on the regular. ...and also because graverobbing is still technically illegal, even if I do have the body owner's permission to dig them up.

At least most of the locals who know of me and my employees are chill about it. It took a bit of effort to get to that point, but now at least people don't run screaming from the less-presentable of my employees…

The blue lights of the police showed up fairly quickly, followed almost immediately by the red flashing of EMS. I puttered up slowly and parked my scooter just out of range as the officers set to work surrounding the house, then hung my helmet on a handlebar and walked up the rest of the way to watch the impending train wreck. I could feel Craig's anger boiling higher and tried my best to ignore it; Craig himself seemed to have fallen silent and sullen after I called him out.

"Tabby!"

I was standing just off to the side of the ambulance when someone stepped up behind me and called my name, making me jump and cringe.

"Oh- oh dear, I'm sorry, Tabs. I thought I heard you were the one who called this in!"

I straightened up immediately, face burning. I recognized that voice, bright and smooth and kind and--

"J-Jenna!" My voice was barely a squeak as I turned to face her, looking up at the round, dark face of one of the EMTs. She was a good six feet tall, maybe more, towering above me even in her uniform flats, with a brilliant smile and full lips and gorgeous natural hair pulled through the back of her uniform cap, the streetlight illuminating her from behind like a halogen angel.

Jenna had shown up to one of my early calls for assistance at No Regrets, and then she kept turning up, not every time I was in a situation where I'd be around EMTs, but often.

Concern showed on her face as she leaned to look me over.

"Are you okay? Did you see it happen, or-"

I shook my head, buying time to sort out words by tapping my temple with a finger.

"N-no, I uh- the victim woke me up, he's in here, uh, in case the cops need somethin' from him."

"Oh… are you getting enough sleep, dear? You sound exhausted. Do you want to sit in the back of the truck?"

It took me a second or two to recover from the way she called me dear, my face burning bright red. I couldn't make eye contact even for the second or two I can usually manage so that people don't immediately think I'm being dishonest.

"I- uh- um- w-well, it's, uh, it is like 4am--" I stammered, trying desperately to find words. "I-I guess 'm sleepin' okay, uh, how're… you doing??"

I have never been a great orator and the list of why that is gets a bit longer with every um and stutter.

Jenna's face bloomed into a gorgeous, open grin.

"I'm on 12-hour overnights right now, so I'm basically at least 60 percent Red Bull at any given time. Everyone okay up there at the House? Last I heard y'all were digging up half the lawn.”

I nodded, unable to keep from grinning. At least this was a subject I could talk to her about without making an absolute ass of myself--

"Yeah! The new girl, Chris, she's gotten Daryl and Roy to help her get the vegetable garden going! It's plenty big enough to take care of all of us, and I worked out a deal with the soup kitchen so that they get any of our excess, once things are running smoothly, and I can use their account to buy from that bulk food program that's usually only open to chari- oop-!" I bit my tongue and cringed. Right. I'm pretty sure that's technically fraud and I just admitted to it in front of-

There was a commotion from the house that snapped me back to attention, and the cops were leading a man out in handcuffs. He looked pale and shaken, spattered in blood, and not quite… present, like he had just checked out of reality for his own good. That… was a familiar look. I furrowed my brow. He certainly didn't look like a maniacal killer-

"He caught me with his wife," I said. Well. Craig said. I jumped. Jenna jumped. I flushed and covered my mouth reflexively.

"N-no that was him! The victim!" I squeaked. Jenna laughed, a hearty belly laugh, and covered her own mouth, though she was doing a terrible job of hiding her grin.

"I figured! If he caught you with his wife, it would be an upgrade!"

At this point, you could probably fry an egg on my face. Hell, my glasses were starting to fog up-- I stammered for a few moments, trying desperately to find something to say, and it was Craig who saved me, if you could call it that. I was too caught up in my embarrassment and awkwardness to realize how much anger and frustration he was radiating.

"Motherfucker told me he'd have my job! Son of a bitch thinks he can get away with doing this to me, he's gonna fucking pay--"

The oncoming storm crashed over me before I could get a grip on it, and all of a sudden I was lumbering forward, snarling words that weren't my own, and dragging a gardening pickaxe out of my truck -- Craig's truck -- on my way to the man and the cops--

I let out a shriek, in my own voice, feeling the sound cutting my throat raw. I wrested control of my body back with a lurch, falling on my ass in the yard with the force of it while the silvery-blue form of Craig was ejected from my body, screaming obscenities.

I threw my hand forward, fighting for whatever thoughts and words I could find to fix this. I saw Craig right himself and move back towards me, and the first incantation -- if you could call it that -- that my brain grasped left my lips in a single desperate breath, with a dizzying rush of power--

"INTHENAMEOFTHEMOONIBANISHYOU--!!"

The force of the hurried exorcism rushed outward like a sonic boom, strong enough for even the mundanes around me to feel, and Craig's spirit let out a yowl of rage for a brief second before twisting around itself and collapsing in with a sickening crunch, crushing smaller and smaller until it was gone.

I winced -- not my best exorcism. At all.

As the flare of adrenaline dropped almost immediately and I came back to myself properly, I realized -- blurrily, as my glasses had gotten thrown off somewhere -- at least two officers had their weapons half-drawn at me, though they were looking over at where Craig's spirit had disappeared.

I collapsed the rest of the way onto the grass, shaking, and covered my face with my hands, trying with everything within me not to start crying. I should have realized he'd try something like that, why hadn't I been paying attention- I could have been attacked, I could have been arrested, I could have had to watch myself beat a man to death and I- fuck--

The sob that came out was squeaky and pained, and I pressed my hands harder against my face, like that would stop anything else from going wrong. I should have brought someone-- I shouldn't have let him possess me-- I should have been paying more attention--

Warm tears ran from the corners of my eyes, down my cheeks, to pool in my ears, making my already-trembling body shiver harder with the unpleasant sensation. I'd let myself get complacent, hadn't lost control of a possession like that in years, and- I'd almost- fuck--

"Honey, honey, sit up for me. Tabby? C'mon, let's get you up--"

Numbly, I let Jenna help me into a sitting position, where she wrapped a blanket around me and pressed an open bottle of water into my hands.

"Take slow sips. Are you okay? Just shaken?"

I nodded, some part of me grateful that I couldn't quite see her face properly without my glasses, because I didn't want to see what she thought about me after that. She sighed, though, and sounded relieved when she murmured "Good."

My whole body felt like jelly, trembling so hard I could feel the water in the bottle sloshing around, and I kept flashing from too hot to too cold to too hot again, and I couldn't even sort out my thoughts--

Jenna sat down beside me and rubbed my back. If I wasn't having a complete breakdown, I might have enjoyed it.

I don't know how long it took for me to calm down and clear my head, but the car with the other man had left, and the other EMTs had loaded Craig's body into the ambulance while Jenna sat next to me and made sure I was doing okay.

After a while, though, I blinked and shifted my torso, then opened the blanket more and cursed at the bloom of red on my hoodie.

I heard Jenna curse as well as she stood up, but I grabbed her pants leg.

"N-no, 'm okay," I mumbled, and instead of trying to speak more, I reached to pull my hoodie and tank up my stomach to show bruised, but completely unbroken skin, covered in blood, rivulets following my stretch marks and making it look even worse despite my being otherwise completely uninjured. "See, 'm okay." This was not the first time I've had a possession lead to the dead's cause of death showing on my own body. It wasn't even the bloodiest.

Jenna sat back down, and I could see her leaning in a bit.

"Well damn. Magic ghost stuff, huh?"

I nodded.

"Magic ghost stuff."

I could see the flash of white against dark skin as she grinned.

"So that exorcism… Artemis or Usagi?"

It took me a moment to parse her.question, but all of a sudden I was completely back to myself, just in time to absolutely die of embarrassment.

"L-listen, I- y-you can exorcise i-in anyone's name, i-it's the power and conviction that counts--!!"

"Usagi, then." I could hear the laughter in her voice, laughter that bubbled out moments later. I wanted to crawl in a hole in embarrassment, but- it didn't feel like condescending laughter. I knew what that felt like. She seemed just genuinely amused. "I grew up with Sailor Moon, too."

I couldn't stop the squeak that eaked out, and I covered my face again.

"G-god I hope word about this doesn't get out, people already think I-I'm weird enough, and to- to fall back on anime for magic i-in a pinch is just--"

"Cute," Jenna finished.

I squeaked.

Jenna moved away for a moment, and then she settled my glasses on my nose. I couldn't make eye contact, but I did glance over at her and sheepishly murmur my thanks.

"The officers still want a statement from you, since you made the call and tried to go after the perp, but I don't think they're looking at any charges, given…" Jenna trailed off and looked over at where Craig had disappeared. "...yeah."

I nodded, slowly, and then found myself yawning, the adrenaline drop setting in especially hard.

"...d'you think it can wait 'til tomorrow… 've kinda had a rough night."

"I think they'll be okay with that."

#house of no regrets #no regrets #tabby #jenna #writing #ethical necromancy #necromancer #paranormal #fantasy #magic #writeblr #story #useless lesbian tabby has A Night

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dear-yandere · 3 years

Text

& just drown with me.

yandere! beidou x reader. general headcanons. tw: kidnapping, implied dubcon. disclaimer: this is not a healthy relationship.

art belongs to jay ash (pixiv).

“come out, come out to the sea, my love and just drown with me...”

beidou is...

reverent, delusional, honest, lenient (RDHL) + doting, protective, clingy

— reverent is she the moment she sets eyes on you, her heart skips a beat. she doesn’t mince words or skirt along bushes; she’s enamored the moment she sees you, and she ensures that you’re well aware of her attraction. you’re quick to pick up that she is terribly handsy—and perhaps a little touch-starved—especially when it comes to you. her hands are on you at all times, sometimes friendly, sometimes on the cusp of something more.

she wants to hold you close and never let go, she knows that much. you’re just so frail, so easy to break if the slightest wind were to brush your sides a little too harshly. in contrast, she’s strong beyond compare, able to best sea beasts and part mountains with only her sword; and yet, gentleness is not lost on her. she takes extra care in handling you, beyond scared that you’ll break apart between her fingers if she’s the slightest bit too rough.

and letting go quickly becomes difficult.

she likes feeling your skin against hers. your hand entangled with hers, your fingers delicate and unused to combat; she is forever fascinated by the soft swell of your palm, the way your hand looks as if it can hardly hold itself against the world. your skin is devoid of callouses and tears unlike her own which carries the sword as big as her stature. your hair’s disheveled and knotty, and your clothes carelessly strewn across the floor. she likes you best this way; completely without covers, so that she may take you in to your fullest, so that she may hold all of you within her grasp and never let go. her fingers are always wrapped around your waist, lips pressing kisses onto your head.

you are a treasure beyond compare.

— her thinking, you soon come to learn, lies upon the border of delusion, and yet her eyes hold an assurity when they look at you. you’re never allowed off her ship unsupervised. the decision was quick and painless, her voice doubtless and her intentions clear as the sea. she wants to flaunt you by her side, as she enjoys the way your body will grow warm with embarrassment when she walks into town with a pretty little thing by her side. pirates are known for their nonchalant approach to life, so for the great captain of the crux to show up in public with anything—or anyone—by her side apart from her trusty claymore is a curious sight. captain beidou isn’t known for her ability to settle in one place or with one person; the sea’s always been her true calling, after all. but to see her fingers gently settle on your shoulder as she pulls you close, the smirk on her reddened lips will quickly twist into a full-blown grin as the crowd she’s drawn erupts into cheers.

you know better than to make a scene in front of these people—people who look up to captain beidou, people who wouldn’t take you seriously if you explained the way she keeps you captive on her ship. you’re nothing more than a victim, you’ll say to them, and they’ll only laugh you off with a wave of their hand, certain this whole charade is some roundabout way for beidou to entertain herself. the sea must drive a man delirious, after all. no one can fault her.

and for that reason, no one can believe your pleads.

beidou is a free spirit enamored by the call of adventure, and yet her actions are anything but.

— dishonesty is something beidou hasn’t the time nor patience for. her words hold no lie when directed at anyone, but especially when directed at you. she couldn’t dream of lying to you—and she has, unfortunately. the moment she woke up from that terrible dream was the moment she shook you awake to apologize profusely, even if the language was colored with her own vulgar vernacular. yes... she apologized for a futile little lie she told in a dream.

dishonesty simply isn’t on the table.

she goes to great lengths to explain her day to you, taking the utmost care to not leave the slightest detail out. the main reason being her guilty conscience, really. there’s not much to do cooped up on a musty ship cabin—even if her quarters are decked out to the nines just for your liking. you weren’t keen on the idea at first, feeling more like a child being told stories before bedtime, rather than a fellow sailor and her beloved first mate. but her eyes will light up all the same, and she’ll tell you of her day and the new things she’s seen as if you were right there with her. you quickly learn to nod along and acknowledge her every so often, as the only alternative is to mope around in her cabin or on the deck—the few times she’ll let you accompany her out there. there’s only so many thoughts to think by yourself, and at some point, you grow to look forward to these fantastical stories every night.

— she doesn’t know fear—freedoms are yours for the choosing if you’re brave enough to set your sights on them. lenient and all too unfussed by the chance you’ll make it any further than the twenty feet from her person at all times, she’s well aware you won’t make it rather far. you wouldn’t call it much in the way of “freedom” really—and you start to envy the citizens of the ever-free mondstadt a few regions over. all freedoms are your for the taking; that is, all freedoms except a dismissal from her side. it’s where any good luck charm belongs, she’ll laugh and plant a wet kiss atop your lips. her good luck charm... she doesn’t need luck—not with strength rivaling a god’s—and yet she refuses to go anywhere without you close behind.

it’s no surprise that her crew had once joked that you follow her around like a lost seadog—unaware that you do so per her directions—only for the poor lads to regret ever having said anything. their captain’s eyes are dark when she pipes up behind them.

“haven’t you got better jobs to do than mess with my lass?” she jeers, that usual smirk not quite reaching her eyes. from your position behind the crew—the men now all lined up in terror before the captain of the crux—even you start to break into sweat. it’s clear from her tone that she’s irritated, and the fact she’s clutching onto her claymore as if its the anchor on her anger scares even you.

they were poking fun at you only moments ago, and now you can’t help but feel sorry for them.

“i’ll let you off the hook ‘cause you’re my dear brothers.“ despite her clemency, her expression tightens and not one man dares to let his tense muscles relax. “but i’ll only say this once, lads.” she explains, stepping down from the raised deck to saunter over to your side. all eyes turn to you two, a pair they’ve grown used to seeing day in and day out. beidou slings her arm around your shoulders, the curves of her body pressing into yours perfectly. “this here is my first mate; a jab at them is no better than a jab at me. the next time i hear a jab at them, i’ll do far worse than have you swimming with the fishes.”

— she loves drinking with you by her side, even if you can’t hold liquor down to save your life. her cheeks are quick to flush shades of pinks and reds, and you can never stop yourself from staring in awe, even when she slings an arm around your waist and pulls you close. her lips catch yours as if they belong there, a puzzle piece filled by its other half. her kisses are a hazy fire, fiercely warm and dangerously untamed; they always taste like strong beer, the beverage steeped in various spices that sit nicely on her lips.

you only wish she wouldn’t do so in public. her boisterous laughter and charisma draws the attention of the tavern-goers, most of whom know better than to interrupt beidou when she’s chugging down jugs of alcohol. her crew doesn’t mind the sight, nor do they mind your presence at the table—though, it’s not like they have much of a choice in protesting; although they don’t fully recognize you as a bonafide crew member of the alcor, it’s clear that captain beidou has something of a sweet spot for you.

still, they feel like they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t when she captures your lips with hers, her fingers drunkenly playing with the thin strap keeping your outfit intact.

— captain beidou carries her heart on her sleeves and her riches in each hand. riches and spoils are fully within your grasp at all times, sometimes to the point of annoyance when she insists on adorning you with a piece of jewelry she picked up at port. ‘it reminded me of you, s’all,’ she’ll laugh sheepishly, already unclasping the necklace to set it around your neck. ‘wear it and think of me, yea?’

it’s an order more than a romantic sentiment; you have no choice but to think of her at all times.

it’s only when you learn of her past that you come to understand her near-obsession with providing you with the best of the best. from the moment she opened her eyes as a newborn, her life had been mired by misfortune, as if the gods themselves were curious how long she’d survive a life of ordeals. as confident as she is now, you would’ve never guess that beneath the surface, she is forever humbled by her past. having grown up in a family with little money and even less to eat, she was to pick up on the way of thieves, learning the schedules and habits of merchants at the local market so that she could swoop in to steal fruits and veggies from their unattended stands.

“don’t worry about it too much, lass; me telling you such stories is merely for your amusement,” she’ll laugh as she explains this to you, sparing you the grisly details of starvation and malaise. she doesn’t tell you how her skin would cling to her ribs for years on end, hanging from her skeleton as if life had given up on it. she’s been on hard times for most of her life, and yet the only side you ever see is the one blessed by fortune and power.

“life and i have never gotten along, so i had to climb my way up in this world.” her tone is cheerful; you see right through it. “my life’s been tough, i’ll admit that much, but i have no intention of making you live through that too.”

— as much as she tries to run from it, she cannot outsail truth. as much as she’d prefer to keep you on her ship—where she can keep an eye on you, where you’re always free to join her in her quest for adventure and thrill—she’s aware that all things must come to an end; even the sea has an edge and an end.

this is just one of them.

“hey... if you really don’t want to be here, i won’t stop you. it’s your choice, and whatever you decide is set in stone. i can’t change that no matter how hard i try, but... could you do me a favor?... just, could you at least give me a chance?

i don’t like overstepping my boundaries where i’m not needed, but this is all i’ll ask of you. think long and hard about your decision. what you decide is up to you—and if you’re set on the idea, i’ll let you leave, no repercussions. sound like a deal?”

bonus.

— she isn’t herself at night. gone is the boisterous laughter that could raise the hair on a man’s arms. gone is the domineering aura she carries like a shield, its front aimed at a world that tries to hold her down. she craves adventure, but the moment night falls and she pulls you into the cot with her, she’s out like a light. the only time you manage to catch yourself every day is when she’s by your side rather than the other way around, her person quiet and gently breathing the sea-stained air.

the ship creaks, and you can hear it clear as night now that the crew is snuggled into their cabins and warm cots, and now that their even-louder captain has fallen asleep. you can finally hear your own thoughts. you have much to think about, having been spirited away to “adventure” against your will... and yet you only think of her.

you turn on your side and settle your weary eyes on your lover. her features are no longer sharp, no longer laden with the responsibility of power and might. nestled between a lavish blanket and the warmth of your body, she is no longer a paragon of otherwordly strength; she’s just human. this is just another side of the captain, just another beidou intended only for your eyes.

and it’s in these quiet moments that you realize you’re in love.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere beidou x reader #yandere beidou #beidou x reader #genshin impact x reader #*headcanons #tw kidnapping #tw dubcon #genshin impact #beidou #[ really hope she isnt ooc ]#[ i havent even met her yet smh .. . im bobo the clown ]

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craomy · 3 years

Text

Genshin Impact: Albedo x Reader (Fluff/Agnst)

Genshin Impact: Albedo x Reader (Agnst)

AN: This is just a little bit of a story idea of what I can imagine for Albedo and with the traveler. This is one of my first times doing something like this and I hope that you’ll enjoy it :)

-=+=-

“Cecilia. A beautiful flower with a name that suits its appearance. It only grows where harsh winds blow, and is just as intangible as the true heart of an unbound soul.” Albedo had held a seedling towards the traveler, (Y/N). She stared carefully in bewilderment as the young alchemist had clenched his fist. A soft glowing light had radiated from his grasp as he slowly opened his hand, revealing an elegant flower that had blossomed from his chalk. The traveler watched in awe when looking at Albedo’s little performance.

(Y/N) was the one to encourage Albedo to take up alchemy from his Master. She’s glad that she was able to give Albedo a push into the direction that his Master would have wanted him to go. Now that he’s been studying and grasping a better understanding of The Art of Khemia, (Y/N) would be the one to listen in on Albedo’s rambles of new concepts of things that would be hard to understand for any ordinary person. Albedo had genuinely enjoyed her company, but he could also feel something else in his chest.

It was a warm feeling. Something that would give him enough energy to stay up countless nights just spending time with the young girl. He couldn’t quite put it into words of what this feeling meant, but Albedo knew that he must hold onto it as long as he can.

Albedo looked back up into (Y/N)’s (E/C) eyes and couldn’t help but appreciate how they glistened underneath the moonlight. Without thinking, Albedo had tucked the Cecilia behind the girl’s ear. “It’s so... heavenly,” The ashy light blonde haired boy had whispered under his breath, too captivated to realize he was staring too long. (Y/N) blushed, hoping that her ears had heard correctly. Seeing her blush had made him grow red, retracting his hand that once traced her cheek, “I-I meant the flower. C-Cecilia’s can also mean heavenly!” the boy had flushed timidly.

He doesn’t usually get embarrassed, but lately, he’s been acting differently towards his beloved friend. (Y/N) had let out her laughter. Seeing his reaction towards her had made her realize how blessed she was to be able to meet such an extraordinary person. Albedo hid behind his sketchbook to hide his face from the (H/C) haired girl to prevent himself from feeling any more embarrassed. After all, they both were just two young kids that could see what others couldn’t see.

(Y/N) had lowered Albedo’s sketchbook to meet his bright teal eyes. He timidly stared back at his friend, his words stuck in his throat with his heart hammering against his chest. She closed the distance between both of them and had placed a soft kiss against Albedo’s forehead.

“Whatever you say, my Chalk Prince.” she caught him off guard with a peck on the head. It took a few seconds for Albedo to register what she had done. As a sign of requited feelings towards each other, he had dropped his sketch onto the soft grass of Starsnatch Cliff. He entwined one hand with (Y/N)’s while the other had been placed behind (Y/N)’s head. Both of them smiled beneath the starry night sky of Mondstadt.

“(Y/N). I don’t understand what you’re doing to me. I lack the knowledge to fully express my feelings towards you. Out of all of the people I’ve ever met, you’ve been the only one that could pique my interest... I don’t ever want to lose you.” Albedo had confessed as he closely watched (Y/N)’s beautiful features. She had let go of his hands and grinned, wrapping her arms around the studious boy. She was delighted. So excited that she had pushed Albedo against the soft grass of the cliffs.

This enchanting atmosphere was enough for Albedo. This is all he could ever ask for. (Y/N) was the perfect person to help him pursue his future career and dreams.

(Y/N)’s laughter filled Albedo’s ears as he put a hand on her back to push her closer to his chest. Holding her against his heartbeat was a brave move, even for him to do. Choosing Starsnatch Cliff as a drawing location was the best option for both of them to enjoy each other’s company.

Young love beneath the captivating moon. There was nothing more to it than two soulmates basking in each other’s presence. Two crystal butterflies fluttered over the both of them, perhaps a symbol of the both of them.

Right now the only thing Albedo could think of was her.

(Y/N).

He studied her (E/C) eyes, so allured, so caught up in the moment. Laying on the patch of grass, he readjusted the Cecilia flower in her hair. She was perfect.

“(Y/N). I want to let you know that I...” he paused.

Albedo noticed twinkling stars that glittered in the sky. Comets and shootings stars had flown over their heads. (Y/N) looked up from Albedo and watched in awe. It wasn’t often that you would see such a sight.

“We should make a wish together.” Albedo had seen how she watched in wonder. That’s right. You two came out here to make a wish.

The traveler had grinned, laying her head back down against the young man’s chest. “If that’s the case then I wish for you to accept the position of Chief Alchemist!” she had said so proudly. He softly chuckled, “You don’t have to use your wish on me for me to do that. I want you to be happy with your wish, (Y/N).” he murmured.

“But it’s true. I think that wish alone will make me happy enough.” (Y/N) spoke confidently. The ash blonde alchemist felt it again. He felt his heart beating faster again. How was it that she could only think about his well being?

“What about you, Albedo? What do you wish for?” she asked with curiosity.

Albedo blinked.

He didn’t know if he had the courage to say it out loud. He gulped, feeling her gaze to be too much for him to handle. “If you’re wishing for me, then I suppose that I have no other option but to also wish for your happiness.” He shyly muttered.

(Y/N) couldn’t stop smiling.

She wished that this moment could last forever.

With that, both of them had embraced each other in this pure moment.

Albedo reached up in the air once again while holding the (H/C) haired girl in his arms. “The universe is the dark essence of the true starry sky, and the earth is the accumulated memories of time and lives. You’ve helped me come along this journey of mine to realize that I shouldn’t keep my distance from everyone anymore,” he spoke.

“You carry the aura of the stars. More beautiful than any other view there is, the liveliest flower in Teyvat, and the greatest thing birthed from chalk. Your serenity is quite enchanting and your laughter is music to my ears, I wouldn’t know what to do if I couldn’t hear it every day. Nothing can compare to you in the universe.” Albedo confessed with sincerity that tugged his heart.

(Y/N) couldn’t have fallen in love with anyone else in the world. Albedo’s charm is what lured the young girl in the most. His search for knowledge and interest in his research is unparalleled to any other.

He sat up, holding dearly onto (Y/N)’s smaller hands.

“In other words, this is my declaration of... love. It’s all so foreign to me so I’d appreciate it if you’re patient with me.” He bashfully told the girl how he felt. (Y/N) smirked, “If that’s how you truly feel, then I’d like you to tell me the special eight letters, three words.” she teased, seeing Albedo’s blush intensify.

Albedo slowly closed the distance between the girl.

“Then if that’s the case...”

“I...”

“I love you.”

Is what Albedo would have said.

Eyes fluttering open, he began to panic in the middle of his bed. Losing the warmth and presence of (Y/N), he came to the realization that...

(Y/N) was no longer there.

Reminiscing in his dreams would brighten his memories of his lover.

That’s right.

He still can’t stop lingering from the past.

Albedo sat up from his bed, the dream feeling too surreal for him to comprehend. (Y/N)’s melodic laughter couldn’t be heard anymore. The vivid dreams he’s been having of the young (H/C) haired girl has been too much for him to handle.

“I have to go back to conducting my research. It’s what (Y/N) would have wanted.” Albedo had to remind himself out loud. If he doesn’t then he would continue to coop himself up in his bed trying to recollect the memories of (Y/N)’s lovely scent.

He slowly got up from his bed and sluggishly walked towards his desk. On his way to his chair, he knocked down a pile of sketchbooks across the floor. Not bothering to pick it up, he began to focus on the sheet of paper in front of him.

“Yes. I have to continue writing this report.” He muttered, all slumped over as he grabbed his pen. The Cecilia flowers on his desk had withered long before he could realize it on his own. Time had seemed to fly past due to his grieving.

At first, it was very... difficult.

(Y/N) never seemed like the type of person to get sick very often. She was always brave and outgoing in the lands of Mondstadt. With her adventurous ambitions, you would think that she had no weaknesses. Of course, that’s what she would show to the others on the outside. Nobody else could know about her illness. The only one she could tell of her little secret was no one other than the Chief Alchemist, her beloved.

Yet, this was the beginning of a burden. Although Albedo enjoyed discovering the truth of the world and jumping into the unknown of unknowns, this was certainly a predicament that stuck a thorn in his thumb. Albedo was able to research and identify nearly any conflict within his path as an alchemist while utilizing his knowledge of what he knew from his Master. There was no way that he wouldn’t be able to find out a cure for her illness, right?

Right?

Wrong.

Albedo snapped out of his thoughts.

Coming back to his senses, it appears that he had unconsciously drawn... her.

Again.

A perfectly sketched portrait of (Y/N). It looked like an exact replica of what (Y/N) had once looked like. Yet again, Albedo knew that nothing else would compare to her beauty. He winced, finding it difficult to rip up the paper that had depicted (Y/N)’s soft features that used to grin back at him. Frustrated, he threw everything off of his desk. All of his testing tubes and glass graduated cylinders had shattered against the cold floor.

Nothing.

None of the drawings he had could compare to her.

No matter how hard he tried to perfectly sketch her entirety, it just wasn’t enough. Albedo couldn’t find any other way to let go of his (Y/N). How else can he get rid of these aching feelings in his chest? Wasn’t he supposed to be the most talented alchemist and a natural-born genius? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one to always find a way to get her out of her troubles? Just why in the world did the Archons curse him to lose one of the things that could bring him hope?

Albedo slammed his fist against one of the portraits, accidentally tearing the paper itself. His tantrum stopped as he took a look at what he had done.

There it was.

(Y/N)’s flower had been scratched out of the painting. The beautiful Cecilia flower that Albedo had once placed behind her ear while he cherished her dearly.

He dropped to his knees in defeat.

“Why..? Why did you have to leave me, (Y/N)?” He whispered in distraught. He could feel a lump in his throat as he clenched his fists, “No... I shouldn’t be blaming you for your passing. It is all but my fault for being incompetent.” his voice was saddening. This bitter taste of love was all he had left of (Y/N).

He could no longer look at his paintings and sketches the same now that she was no longer with him. Melancholy was a word that could not measure how much he had missed her. Looking up at the stars can only bring him the painful memory of when he had professed his love to her. Walking through the field of Cecilias can only remind him of how much he had missed what it was like to hold her hand and kiss her on the forehead. The times he stayed up to continue doing his research with (Y/N) on his side would remind him that things will never be the same because she’s gone.

Perhaps his grief has gotten the best of him.

He looked at all of the scattered pages that were ripped out of his notebook. All of the pages had perfect drawings of (Y/N) in her natural state. The bags under Albedo’s teal blue eyes were enough to show anyone how much he stayed up thinking about her.

Albedo walked up to a large canvas that was carefully painted and crafted to be almost flawless. (Y/N)’s body fit the painting and looked as if she could come to life.

It didn’t matter if Albedo broke the natural laws of life.

All he wanted to do was see (Y/N)’s smile once again.

Albedo gripped the portrait in front of him desperately.

If all fails, he’ll just continue to try again.

And again.

That’s what it takes to be an alchemist. It’s all trial and error. Albedo couldn’t leave any more room for doubt. He has to continue persisting to look for her fleeting love. He will face any consequence in order to get her back safely in his arms. He’ll obstruct and rip apart any law of alchemy to even receive another affectionate, “I love you”. He is the only person to understand her weakness, and he continues to walk the path of life to have her as his strength. His azure eyes widened with determination, a surge of light glowing from his hands.

He will continue saying this.

Again.

“Arise, lifeless dust of the universe and that within. Thou art reborn.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #albedo #genshin impact albedo #albedo genshin impact #albedo x reader #reader insert #genshin impact x rea #genshin impact reader #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #albedo chief alchemist #albedo mondstadt #genshin impact albedo x reader

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champion-leon-imagines · 3 years

Text

Chronicles of Galar - Chapter 3: A loss & Gain of trust

This chapter is kinda sad at first. As a warning, a minor (and non-canon) character death that hit you hard and you don’t know what to do.. then you meet Leon and everything changes. Your level of friendship increases and he gives you comfort in a way, no other person would ever be able to give you. Comfort!Fluff.

"[Y/n]..", Cynthia's voice was sad and battered and that alerted you directly. Cynthia rarely called, and only when it was important or bad news. Her pitched voice suggested the worst. "I hate to have to say something like that over the phone .. ... Grandmother died .."

Your eyes widened and tears began to run down your cheeks. You had expected all sorts of things, but this news threw you completely off the mark.

"W-what ..? W-How ..? She was very healthy and not yet that old .. ", you mumbled sadly and clutched your smartphone tightly while more tears ran down your face. Professor Carolina, the village elder of Celestic Town and grandmother of Cynthia, was like a mother to you. Carolina had cared for you since the beginning of your trainer career. Since you lived in Sinnoh for several years and lived with her, the two of you cultivated such an intimate and harmonious relationship. Her death news had torn the ground from under your feet.

"She had a heart attack .. Caused by an allergic reaction after she had been exposed to the poison of an aggressive Roserade .. Roserades release a special toxin that has so far remained undiscovered by researchers, as they only eliminate it when they are really feel cornered and have to protect their offspring .. Grandmother had found a nest and wanted to study it from a safe distance, but one of the Roserades has lost its nerve. She fought for survival in the hospital for days, but .. ", Cynthia said and could no longer speak through her own tears .

"For days ...? And you call me NOW ..? Cynthia, I would have left everything and gone to Sinnoh .. "

"I didn't wanted to ruin your adventure in Galar. None of us expected that Grandmother ... would not survive .. The doctors also said at first that she was recovering nicely, but then her condition deteriorated so rapidly .... And then I was just too occupied and sad that I forgot to call you earlier. I am so sorry.."

You felt terrible. Not only because of the loss, but also because you screamed at Cynthia like this for not letting you know sooner. "Don't apologize .. I'm sorry if I sounded harsh .. I .. can't believe it .." you mumbled sadly and wiped your face.

"We all feel that way in Celestia Town.. Believe me .. The .. funeral is next week .. on Wednesday ... Are .. are you coming ..? "

"Of course I'll come .. Cynthia, thanks for everything you've done for me. I'll never forget Carolina .. I'll see you on Wednesday .. I love you, big sister, okay ..? "

"I love you too, little sister .. take good care of yourself."

With these words, Cynthia hung up and you dropped to your knees to completely give in to your emotions. You were crying so loud that your brother and his fiancée ran from the study straight to your room and wanted to know what was going on.

It wasn't long before you felt overwhelmed by the comforting hugs and words of your real family. You gently pushed the two of them away and stood up. "Sorry .. But I would like to be alone for a moment .. I'll go for a walk ..", you said and walked to the door.

"Now..? Do you took a look outside? It's raining cats and dogs. Take an umbrella with you at least. ", Aki said , worried and crossed her arms.

"I don't mind .. It's just water .. I'll .. I'll come back later, okay ..?", You smiled sadly and raised your hand to say goodbye before you just stormed out into the rain. Aki shook her head and collapsed onto the hotel couch. You and them currently stayed in Motostoke.

“I never realized how close the relationship was between her and Professor Carolina. Her death hits her as hard as if a family member had died. ", Aki said quietly.

"She was a family member for her." Mamoru began sadly. “When [Y/n] lived in Sinnoh after our parents started to argue daily, the professor behaved like a mother to her. She raised [Y/n] without hesitation, and became more or less like a little sister to Cynthia. Professor Carolina was the caring mother, our mother couldn't be at that time. So I understand that her death takes [Y/n] with it ... ", he explained.

"Shouldn't we then follow her and be there for her?", Aki insisted. Mamoru shook his head slightly.

"No. She said she wants to be alone. My sister is strong. She won't do anything stupid. Let's give her some time. And when she has recovered, she will come back and then we can still be there for her. ", he smiled confidently.

"If she hasn't caught pneumonia by then.", Aki sighed slightly. Mamoru smiled sadly.

“Then we mustn't blame her. This is what she needs least of all at the moment. "

You ran around aimlessly in the rain for a few minutes until you lost your strength and sat down on a wet bench. Your clothes were soaked and your hair was stuck to your face so that you could barely see anything. But you didn't really care about that at the moment. You pulled back your knees and put your arms around them as you leaned your head on your drawn knees and sobbed softly into them. You couldn't even say goodbye to Carolina .. You wanted to tell her so much, show her so much .. So many things were unsaid .. For example, how grateful you were that she welcomed you so warmly .. How much you appreciated you had learned and how much you loved to bake Christmas cookies with her one last time .. that was all over now. That thought just didn't go into your head.

Minutes passed. The minutes turned into hours and the rain just wouldn't stop. It was like the heaven cried for her too. Not that it helped in any way, because your own tears just wouldn't stop. At some point you could only hear the rain, but the droplets didn't seem to hit you anymore.

'Have my senses become so numb that I can no longer feel the rain on me ..?' You thought bitterly and then looked up. You blinked perplexed when a red cape was stretched over you. You saw Leon, who was holding his big cape over him and you and protecting both of you from the rain.

"You didn't choose a good day to sit out here." Leon laughed slightly until he saw that it wasn't just rainwater that had moistened your face. Your gloomy eyes made his smile fade and he held the cape over you more generously. "Did you .. cry ..?" He asked quietly. Normally you would have been happy to meet him here, but under the current circumstances, you couldn't utter a single word. Instead, you bit your lip to hold back more tears. Unsuccessful as it seemed, because more tears ran down your cheeks again and made you sob softly in response.

Leon seemed a little overwhelmed. How should he behave now? Nobody has ever cried in front of them, especially not a woman. The purple-haired man looked around for help until he noticed that his hotel was not far from here. "You don't have to speak right now, but we should get dry first, don't you think so?" He smiled and you nodded slightly when you got up. Then, under the protection of his cape, you ran to the hotel. As he entered, Leon called the receptionist to bring fresh clothes and a towel to his room. And a hot tea. You two went to an elevator and drove to the floor where his room was.

Once there, Leon took the towel and rubbed your hair dry. Then there was a knock on the door and the room service had brought a sleeping gown that you could slip into for the time being. Leon gratefully accepted the gown and handed it to you.

“I'm going to have a look after the tea. So you can change in peace. ", He smiled and patted your head lightly before he got up and left the room. You looked after him slightly. The tears finally stopped, but you still felt miserable. Although another emotion was budded in your heart. A warm, pleasant feeling.. You were glad that someone was looking after you at the moment .. and he was so thoughtful.

A few minutes passed before there was a knock on the door. "It's me," Leon called. "Can I come in?" He asked, not wanting to burst in while you were changing. You thanked him very much for his courteous manner.

"Y-yes. I've already finished dressing. ", You said a little broken. The door opened and Leon held a small tray with the tea on it. He saw you on the hotel bed. The towel around your shoulders and in the hotel's white night gown. He smiled a little, because you didn't seem so exhausted anymore. After placing the tray on the bedside table, he sat down next to you.

"How are you?" He asked.

"Terrible .." you replied quietly. "But better than before," you added after seeing Leon a little worried.

"Would you like to talk now about what happened?" He asked further, looking at you.

"... The woman who practically raised me ... and was like a mother to me ... died." You wiped away the new tears and sobbed softly. "She was such a wonderful person .. Why did she have to die so early .."

Leon was silent for a moment and then looked sadly at the floor. His hands clenched into a fist and he didn't even know how to react.

"Professor Carolina ..?" Leon didn't even had to guess, since he already knew a lot about your past. You nodded sadly and Leon's face grew sadder. "I'm really sorry about that .. My deepest condolences .." he said sadly.

"Thanks ..", you mumbled and hugged yourself, trying to find some warmth.

"If I can do anything for you .. Tell me.", He offered you and you looked next to you. You swallowed lightly and sighed.

"Can you .. just hug me ..?" You asked softly. Leon blinked slightly. Although you had met a few times, both of you hardly had any physical contact so far. Except for a short, half-hearted hug as a greeting. This time it was different.

"Of course," he replied immediately and put his arms around your trembling body to pull you close. You buried your face right in his jersey and wrapped your arms around his stomach.

"Thank you ..", you whispered softly and muffled when you felt how he caressed your back soothingly.

"Don't mention it." he said and hugged you to give you the greatest possible comfort. You and Leon lingered in that embrace in silence. Your sobs grew quieter and your breathing became calmer. At some point the purple-haired man noticed that your eyes were closed. You must have fallen asleep. Leon smiled a little and laid you on the bed properly before covering you and caressing your cheek. Then he looked at his smartphone, which was about to remind him of an appointment. He got up and wanted to go when he noticed how you grabbed his hand and prevented him from going. "[Y/n] ..?"

"Please don't go now .. I .. don't want to .. be .. alone ..", you stuttered with half-open eyes. Your [e/c] irises shone from all the weeping and Leon looked at you desperately. He thought about his appointment and sighed. Then he put his other hand on top of yours and smiled.

"Alright. I'll stay with you. ", He said and sat down on the bed again. You smiled gratefully and pressed his hand to your cheek.

"Thank you ...", you mumbled softly and then held up your other hand, asking that he lay down next to you. Leon smiled and lay down next to you to pull you into his arms and hug you. You both looked at each other for a while before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

On the next morning, Leon's voice woke you up. He didn't sounded angry, but a little louder than usual. And he seemed to be talking to someone. You opened your eyes and blinked when you saw Leon pacing up and down the room.

“I told you Oleana. I couldn't meet with President Rose on this appointment because there was an emergency. ... a private emergency. No, it didn't concern me personally, but ... ... Now please listen to me. ", Leon sighed and rubbed his face in annoyance. You just couldn't talk sensibly to this woman. “Of course, I am aware of the consequences if I fail to keep important appointments for no good reason. But the reason was important to me. And I don't care if you see it any other way. … Yes, then tell President Rose that we will postpone the appointment until next week. ”He hung up and sighed deeply again. "I wouldn't want to work with this woman .." he mumbled quietly and turned around. He saw that you were awake and looked at him in shock. "Oh..“

"You had an appointment with President Rose yesterday ...?" You asked and Leon averted his gaze guiltily. "Why did not you say anything..? I wouldn't have held you here if I had known that you had an important appointment .. ", You said ashamed and straightened up.

"You needed someone.", Was his only answer when he looked at you again. His words only made you more shocked.

"You had put my well-being over your appointments ..?", You asked incredulously and put your hand over your mouth. Leon smiled and walked towards you when he put his big hand over your head.

"Of course. I can always make up or postpone appointments. But you cannot control your feelings. That's why .. it was more important to me to be there for you than to give Rose another stupid interview about why I'm the unbeatable champion. ", He said with a charming smile.

You felt like you were about to start crying again. This time, however, not from grief. The warmth of this man simply took in every fiber of your body and you literally threw yourself into his arms after these words. Leon blinked in astonishment before putting his arms around you and hugging you again as you buried your nose in his neck.

"I-I'm sorry, only because of me...Because of me your schedule got messed up .. I'll make it up to you, I promise," You said quietly. Leon laughed softly before pulling away a little and caressing your cheek.

“If you want to make it up, then .. I know of a small, cozy ice cream parlor. That serves the BEST Alcremie sundae in Galar. How does that sound? ”He asked and winked. You smiled and your grief was almost forgotten for that moment.

"Sounds good."

Since that day the friendship of you had reached a new, more intimate level.

#Chronicles of Galar #leon pokemon #pokemon leon #pkmn leon #champion leon #leon #champion leon x reader #leon x reader #pokemon leon x reader #pokemon shsw #pokemon sword and shield #Pokemon

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wicked-mind · 3 years

Text

Remember Me: Chapter Three

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones? Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Mentions of drugging and sexual assault. Small bit of violence.

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

Chapter Three - Hunger

Bucky had been awake most of the night watching Y/N sleep soundly on his lap but eventually his tiredness took over and he fell asleep himself. When he opened his eyes to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, he immediately looked down to see Y/N not there anymore. There was a small bubble of panic as he got up quickly, walking to the kitchen to see Peggy with a mug of coffee. Without a word, she pointed to the front door with a smile to let him know where Y/N was. Bucky gave a soft smile of thankfulness before making his way to the front door, opening it as his eyes fell on Y/N’s back as she sat on the porch steps. He froze in that moment, listening her hum the tune to their song. Was she remembering bits and pieces? He slowly moved to sit next to to her.

Y/N stopped humming when she noticed Bucky sit by her, looking at him quickly. She had a banana on her lap with a cut through it and was practicing sutures on it with tweezers in her hands that held the needle and thread, “Good morning, sleepy head.” She said with a smile towards him before returning her focus on her practice sutures, “You ever wake up with a song in your head that feels like it’s your favorite song but can’t remember it? Because I cannot get this song out of my head and I can’t look it up because I don’t know the words, just the tune.”

Bucky smiled over at her, watching as she threaded the needle through the peel of the banana and suture the peel back together with black thread, “Everyday darlin’,” He told her. Their song had been stuck in his head on repeat since the night they found it. It was one of his favorite memories. Y/N had snuck out with him and they went to a field on his dirt bike. He had brought a blanket so they could watch the stars together while the little radio he had played music. He kissed her for the first time to the song Hunger by Ross Copperman. It had been stuck in his head from that moment on, like a theme song to their relationship, “Is the banana going to make it?”

Y/N giggled a little bit, “I think so. I’m a very good surgeon.” She told him as she tied a knot onto the last suture and put the tweezers down in her lap as well, “There. He should live a long life of 24 hours before he turns to mush.” She looked back at him, running her eyes along his facial features. She had never seen a smile so sincere that she could remember, “I’m practicing so eventually I can go back to work at the hospital. From what Steve says, I have a very good reputation there as their old trauma surgeon and they’d be happy to have me back. Plus I still have all my memories when it comes to medicine and surgical procedures which should help.”

“That’s great.” Bucky told her, happy that she was still pursuing the thing she had dreamed about since she graduated. Y/N was still her, even without her memories. He couldn’t help but wish the things she remembered were him and the love they had between them. It was an epic love and Bucky wanted that back, “I should probably head home and change into some clean clothes. I’ll be back later to replace the fan in your room so you can sleep soundly.”

Y/N looked at him, observing him as he spoke. She could see something in his eyes that didn’t want to leave. Or maybe it was that he didn’t want to leave her. She bit her lip, “I was actually thinking, since we were so close before, maybe seeing your place would bring back some memories. Plus Peggy already said they didn’t have anything for breakfast.” She smiled at him, “Do you have breakfast supplies? I can cook while you change and stuff.”

Bucky grinned at her idea, it was just what he wanted. Her to come home with him, “Sounds like a plan, doll.” He told her, knowing he had supplies for her favorite food already. He had gone to the store as soon as he heard she was coming home, buying all her favorite things to eat in case she remembered him and came back home, “You think you remember how to make blueberry pancakes?”

Y/N scrunched her nose as if trying to think of the steps on how to cook, “Nope.” She said with a large pucker of her lips on the sound of the ‘p,’ “But I’m a surgeon. I can figure out how to make pancakes… probably.” She said with a small laugh before licking her lips and staring at him, “Does this mean you’re taking me home on your motorcycle?”

Bucky stood and smiled down at her, “Oh no, I still think you need some more time after I found you walking down the street in the middle of the night. I just live a street down, we can walk it isn’t far.” As much as he would like to take her home on his bike, he didn’t want to rush things with her and knew Steve wouldn’t be too keen on the idea.

Y/N nodded, a little sad she wasn’t going to be able to remember the feeling Bucky had told her about when she rode with him but was happy to adventure out of the four walls of Steve’s home. She stood by him for a moment before opening the door and telling Peggy she was going with Bucky and she was alright before turning back to the dark haired man, “Lead the way, Bucky.” She told him with a smile and a wave of her hand, following as he walked, “I’m curious, tell me more about this girl you loved.”

Bucky looked at her as he walked down the sidewalk beside her, “Love.” He corrected, “I still love her and I always will.” He stared at her for a moment as if waiting for her to say it back before connoting, “We were a very unlikely match, total opposites. I already told you she was smart, I have no idea how she fell in love with me. I was a mess, always getting in fights and causing trouble. When she came into my life, she was like the little angel that appeared on my shoulder that helped me choose the right path to go down.” He smiled at the memories, “But she always told me I was the one that made her feel truly alive, like the world was brighter and made sense. She calmed my wild soul and I brought out the wild in her’s.” He had rambled on the whole time they walked, not being able to stop himself until they were in his driveway, “Home, sweet, home.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Bucky talk about the woman he loved. It was obvious he was still completely and undeniably in love with her. She looked at the house, taking in its features when they stopped, “It’s a pretty house.” She complimented before following him inside. She watched Bucky hurry and pick up a shoe box on the coffee table, taking it into what she assumed was his bedroom. Curiosity sparked in her as it seemed like Bucky didn’t want her to see it and that made her want to know more but wouldn’t pry. She went to the kitchen, “Okay… Pancakes..” She said to herself as she closed her eyes tightly trying to remember the ingredients. When she opened them, Bucky was already pulling out all the ingredients with a smile on his lips, “Thank you. I’ll try not the screw it up.”

Bucky watched her scan over the ingredients and when he saw she didn’t remember where to start, he pulled out a notebook. Y/N always wrote down the recipes she loved. It helped Bucky cook a few meals for her when she got home from working at the hospital, “Here’s the recipe. You got this.” He encouraged, “I’m going to take a quick shower. Try not to burn the house down.” He said as he started walking out of the kitchen and down a hallway towards the bathroom.

Y/N watched him go before scanning her eyes over the recipe. She tilted her head as she recognized it as her own hand writing. She bit her lip lost in thought for a moment, trying to put puzzle pieces together. She finally snapped out of it and looked at the ingredients nodding to herself, “Alright, Y/N. You know how to do a double lung transplant. You can make blueberry pancakes.” She encouraged herself. She wondered around the kitchen, finding pans and utensils to help and started the mission of making breakfast.

Bucky came out to find Y/N flipping pancakes with extreme focus on her face as if it was a life or death situation which made him smile. He wore dark jeans with a short sleeved black shirt that showed off his tattooed left arm. He walked into the kitchen, gently taking the spatula from Y/N who looked grateful that he was taking over, “They look delicious. I’ll finish up.” He told her, adding the blueberries and flipping the pancakes.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief when Bucky took over, stepping back and hoping up onto the counter as she watched him closely, observing every move he made while he cooked. She couldn’t deny she was attracted to him, something about him drew her towards him. She ran her eyes up and down his figure, biting her lip as she took in every part of him. Y/N was very observant and when she saw the small red heart tattoos between the rest of his ink, her eyes narrowed. She recognized them as her own which made her curiosity grow. When she first woke up after having the bullet removed, the doctors had her draw shapes and write her name to make sure she still had the ability to write and those hearts looked exactly like the ones she had drawn.

Bucky turned to look at Y/N, seeing her looking at his tattoos. He wondered if it was sparking anything to remember him. He held two plates of pancakes in his hands which he set down on the table gently before pulling out the syrup and pulling out a chair for Y/N, “Breakfast is served.”

Y/N took a seat in the chair Bucky pulled out for her, “Thank you.” She said with a smile towards him, picking up the syrup and slathering enough on to cause a toothache, but she always had a sweet tooth. She licked her lips slightly at the view before digging in.

Bucky kept his promise to Y/N, replacing the fan in her bedroom with a small chandelier which made her smile when it sparkled in the light. Y/N got to know Bucky better. He was over everyday entertaining her but as much as she brought up the idea of Bucky taking her on a ride, he would deny it and his reason was that Steve wouldn’t like it. Y/N was smart and everyday she spent with Bucky and listened to him talk about the girl he once loved, the puzzle pieces slowly started to be put together in her mind. She had a feeling by the way he talked and spoke to her that she may be this mystery woman that he had broken the heart of but she wouldn’t know unless she asked. One day at dinner with Steve and Peggy, Y/N finally built up the courage to confront her brother on her thoughts, “Stevie, did Bucky and I use to date?” She said out of the blue.

Peggy and Steve both almost choked on their food at the question, sharing a look. Steve looked at Y/N trying to keep a straight face, “What.. Why would you ask that?” Y/N bit her lip, narrowing her eyes at their reaction. She was pretty sure she was given her answer by the way they choked on their food. Or she was dead wrong and they couldn’t believe her question, “Just some things I’ve noticed. He has a recipe book in my handwriting at his house and the heart tattoos look like hearts I draw.” She said, giving him a short list instead of talking about the way Bucky looks and speaks to her. The way he made her feel.

Steve opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find a good answer so looked to Peggy with pleading eyes for help.

Peggy looked at Steve then smiled gently at Y/N, “You should talk to Bucky about that, honey.” She said simply.

Y/N frowned a little at them, her eyes flickering between the two, “Why can’t you just tell me?”

They both stayed silent for a moment as if trying to think of a good answer, glancing at each other and their food trying to avoid eye contact with Y/N who was staring at them intently.

Y/N rolls her eyes and sighs, standing up, “I’m not going to break.” She told them with bitterness in her voice before walking towards the front door. She grabbed her small backpack and a jacket, pulling it over her figure and opening the front door, “Don’t report me as missing person!” She called back before exiting the home. She walked down the street, muttering words under her breath in frustration towards her brother. Why couldn’t he just answer the question? It bothered her and she wanted answers about who she was and who she was to Bucky. Y/N found herself walking into a bar, smiling slightly when she saw someone she recognized sitting at the bar from the BBQ, Sam. Y/N hoped up on the stool next to him, “Hi. Sam, right?”

Sam looked at her, holding a bottle of beer in his hands, “Y/N! Yeah, Sam.” he smiled at her. He had known her for a few years, he was one of Steve’s army friends, “Whatcha doin here?”

Y/N shrugs, “Brothers being annoying. Needed to get away for a little bit. Do you know what kind of alcohol I like?” She asks with a tilt of her head. She remembered she has drank before but couldn’t remember what she enjoyed.

“Tequila. Lots of tequila.” Sam remembered with a small laugh, “You said it got you through your surgical internship.” He waved his hand at the bartender, “Can we get a tequila shot?” To which the bartender nodded and placed it in front of Y/N with a lime.

Y/N narrows her eyes at the liquid in the shot glass in front of her with a lime resting on the top, “Okay, so lime first or second?”

Sam chuckled, picking up the lime and putting it on his napkin, “You don’t like the lime.” He reminded before watching her take the shot and her nose crinkle, “Just like old times.”

Y/N wrinkled her nose at the sting then let out a small laugh, “Yup. That is definitely something I would fall in love with.” She looked away from Sam as another man sat next to her with a smile. She didn’t recognize him but from the look on his face it seemed like he knew her from how comfortable he was to come up to her.

“Hey, pretty girl.” The short haired dark man said to her. He had a sharp jaw that matched his sharp cheek bones with some stubble for a beard, “It’s been a while.”

Y/N bit her lip at the new man, “I’m sorry… I don’t remember who you are.” She told him, “I lost my memories on deployment from an injury so you’re going to have to reintroduce yourself.” She added quickly as to not hurt his feelings.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He smiles at her before holding out his hand, “Brock Rumlow. We used to hang out, or at least you came to one of my parties when we were younger. It was fun.”

Y/N scrunched her nose in thought, “Nope, sorry don’t remember. But it’s nice to meet you again.” She smiled at him. She hadn’t noticed Sam glaring at the man and didn’t notice when he got up and walked away to make a call.

Sam stood away from as many people as he could, dialing a number on his phone and pressing it to his ear as he watched Y/N talk to Brock who was buying her another shot of tequila, “Hey, Buck. It’s Sam…. I’m at the Howlin’ Cammandos bar with Y/N…. She said her brother was being annoying and wound up here, I don’t know man. Listen, Rumlow just came over and reintroduced himself to her…. Yes, Brock Rumlow the one you and Steve told me about…. He’s buying her shot after shot… Alright, I’ll stay close to her..” He hung up the phone, shaking his head before returning to his spot beside Y/N, listening to Brock put all the moves on her while she laughed like it was the first time she had heard his cheesy pick-up lines which Sam determined was because she couldn’t remember hearing them before.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to walk through the doors, immediately grabbing Brock by his shoulder to turn him around before landing a hard punch straight to his nose. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pushing him up against the bar, “I told you to never come near her again!” He growled out at Brock before landing a punch to Brock’s cheek followed by another. He wasn’t holding back, he was putting everything he had into every punch.

Y/N jumped a little at the sight, her jaw falling open as she watched Bucky punch Brock. She looked at Sam as if it say ‘help’ and watched as Sam got up and separated the two, pushing Brock out the door telling him to get out of here. Y/N looked at Bucky once Sam had gotten rid of Brock, “What the hell, Bucky?” She said to him.

Bucky turned his angry stare to Y/N after watching Sam drag Brock out the doors, “C’mon. I’m taking you home.” He said, grabbing her hand and pulling her outside. Sam was standing out there, watching as Brock’s car pulled out onto the street before heading back inside with a nod towards Bucky. Bucky kept pulling Y/N towards his motorcycle, passing her a helmet, “Put it on.”

Y/N held the helmet in her hands for a moment before setting it down on the seat of his Harley, “No. Not until you tell me what that was all about.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at her stubbornness, picking up the helmet again and holding it out to her, “Put it on, Y/N. I’m taking you home.” He said again in a more stern voice.

Y/N folded her arms instead of taking the helmet, frowning at him. She was already irritated at Steve and now she felt like she was being babysat by Bucky, “Talk or I walk.”

Bucky stared at her, knowing that look. She was stubborn and she would walk away from him if he didn’t spill what he knew, “Fine, Y/N. When you were eighteen you went to a party at Brock’s house because we got in a fight. You thought he slipped something in your drink and called me right away. I got there just in time to find his hands all over you in his bedroom while you were passed out but it hadn’t gone any further than him copping a feel. I told him if he ever came near you again, I’d kill him.” He sighs, “Now you’re back with no memories and he would’ve taken advantage of that. He’s not a good person, Y/N.”

Y/N looked suddenly saddened as Bucky spoke, her lips parting a little in shock. That was something she rather not remember and was partly grateful she wouldn’t have that memory living inside her brain. She looked down, “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” She apologized. She sighed deeply before dropping her hands to her sides, “I asked Steve something tonight and he wouldn’t answer me. Peggy said I should talk to you about it.”

Bucky’s couldn’t help but frown as Y/N looked sad, that was something he didn’t want her to remember. It was an awful memory for both of them and Bucky had never felt such rage when he saw Brock’s hands all over her. He had beaten Brock to a pulp, almost unrecognizable and he would’ve again tonight if Sam wasn’t there to stop him, “What is it, doll?” He asks in a gentle tone, knowing whatever she had asked Steve was bothering her.

Y/N ran her tongue along her lips for a moment, not daring to look at Bucky. She wanted to know and she felt like she already knew the answer from all the hints Bucky had given her. Half of her didn’t want to ask but the tequila was giving her courage and the need to know was overwhelming, “Am I the girl you talk about? The one you still love?”

#bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes series #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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bytheangell · 3 years

Note

May I please request a song fic for Kit with Into the Unknown as he starts coming into his faerie heritage pretty pretty please?

Into the Unknown (Read on AO3)

It’s strange, the way things seem to fall into place once Kit becomes aware of the Shadow World. At first, there was too much happening around him for Kit to focus on the more subtle aspects of the changes within himself - life immediately after his father’s death was a whirlwind of chaos and adventure alongside the Blackthorns. Though he often finds himself missing those times (and one of the Blackthorns in particular), his current living situation is much better suited for a proper adjustment into this new world. His new world.

The shift to the quiet and unassuming life he now has with Jem and Tessa is jarring, but not entirely unwelcome. It gives him time to figure out who he is, outside of Johnny Rook’s kid and outside of his involvement with the Blackthorns. It gives him time to start fresh, with no entanglements and no expectations: just a new Shadowhunter studying runes and angel names and Nephilim history. He feels almost normal, or at least as normal as being a Nephilim can feel.

Still… the desire to learn more about his past - about his heritage and the full story of The Lost Herondale and everything that comes with it - is strong. He’s curious, who wouldn’t be? A few talks with Jace leave Kit with the reassurance that family name identity crises are apparently a common Herondale past-time, which doesn’t make him feel any better over how detached he feels about all of these potential identities. Jem and Tessa are quick to reassure him that, despite taking him in, they certainly don’t expect him to consider himself a Carstairs or a Gray now… except he almost wishes they did. At least it’d take away the uncertainty he feels.

But it isn’t the Rook, Carstairs, Gray, or Herondale names that pique his curiosity - it’s his faerie lineage.

At first, he does his best to ignore it. He’s here now, with Jem and Tessa and Mina, and everything is fine. Fine, as far as Kit is concerned, is better than the alternative of not fine, which is what he’d be if he went sticking his nose into places it doesn’t belong. The burst of magic he used to vanish the steeds of the Riders of Mannan was as terrifying as it was impressive… and honestly, Kit isn’t sure he wants to do anything like that ever again. The fact that Jem and Tessa had to ensure no one saw, covering it up like a dirty secret, was proof enough that it wasn’t anything good. It’s certainly not something to be heralded or exalted like Clary and Jace’s special abilities.

Kit tells himself he’s fine as he is, that he’s content to be a Shadowhunter and that’s it. Everyone he knows, everyone he cares about, is right here (or a quick portal away, should he choose, to the LA Institute). He had plenty of danger and uncertainty in his life up to this point, and he doesn’t need to go inviting more now that things are finally settling down to something good. He’s happy here, and he doesn’t want to ruin that - not for him, or for Jem and Tessa.

Except he can’t ignore the little voice in the back of his head reminding him that there’s more to him than just being a Shadowhunter, however scary that may be. He may not have the pointed ears and other features that Helen and Mark share, but he has a faerie heritage just the same. It feels almost disrespectful to everything Jem and Tessa have given him to want to explore that other side of him, especially after he learns of all the prejudices against the Fey. If that’s a life he can stay out of, why wouldn’t he?

He’s a Shadowhunter. These people are his people, and that’s enough. It has to be.

Kit almost convinces himself he can leave it alone that easily, but it doesn’t last for long. As often as he wishes the curiosities from his mind would go away, they don’t. The thoughts remain as stubborn as he is. Kit feels the draw, the desire to know more, the call of powers he doesn’t understand. He ignores it as long as he can… he ignores it until he can’t any longer.

The idea of what he might be capable of keeps him up at night. Finally he caves and starts doing some research on his own, both online and in the wealth of books Jem and Tessa have here. He can’t find any concrete answers, though - in fact, once he starts looking online every time he finds one bit of information he stumbles across a new one that directly contradicts the first.

He wants to ask for help. He wants to ask Jem to take him to the Shadow Market, or for Tessa to see if there are any answers in the Spiral Labyrinth, but he doesn’t. What if it’s a mistake? What if it isolates him from the only family he has right now, and for what? To jump into the unknown of an entire realm of beings who may want nothing to do with him?

It takes some time before the draw becomes greater than his fear and hesitation. He doesn’t notice it at first, but it manifests in small ways. He’s found outside more and more often. He tends to the plants on the property instinctively, and they flourish under his care. Once or twice he finds himself following the sound of small, soft voices that he swears are calling to him, only to end up at a curious patch of flowers or a small body of water, alone.

Sometimes it happens without thinking, such as when he’s running through the woods and thick roots shrink back so he doesn’t trip over them, or mounds of earth rise up in front of him to provide leverage to jump a fence or reach a low branch on a tree to climb when he’s certain it hadn’t been that way moments before. Other times it’s intentional, like when he’s out training one night, tracking a relatively harmless, low-level demon, and wills a nearby tree to shift so that its branches hang lower to provide him cover. He places his hand on the tree, connecting to it, asking for aid purposefully. And then one day, when he’s alone in the woods and hears a noise coming toward him, a large, pointed spear grows itself from the roots of the tree next to him, a weapon at the ready when he’d been previously unarmed. How?! Had he done that, or had the nature around him sensed his distress and come to his aid on its own?

He says nothing about it to anyone, not until Jem brings his powers up first. It happens while they’re walking through a local park, pushing Mina around in a carrier. Without realizing he’s even doing it, Kit wanders away from Jem and Mina and into a nearby treeline. He only notices he’s strayed when he comes across a circular clearing in a tight cluster of trees, one that feels powerful, one that feels natural to want to be near. In fact, Kit feels the overwhelming desire to reach out, but to what he isn’t certain.

Come with us. Come to us. You belong with us. To us.

Kit has no doubt that the words are whispered on the wind by one of the Fey. Or maybe several fey, because the pull he feels is strong, nearly overwhelming.

“Who are you?” he asks aloud. “Do you know who I am? Can you… can you…” but what does he want to ask them? Can they tell him who he is, in a way he hasn’t figured out for himself yet? Can they show him how to control the things that happen to him even when he doesn’t mean for them to? Can they actually take him into this world he’s suddenly so desperate to experience?

Kit takes a step forward, and then another, until the constant soft whisper of voices ends abruptly, as does the warmth of the energy around him. They’re gone. He knows that for certain, despite the fact that he hadn’t seen them there in the first place.

“This isn’t the first entry point to the Seelie Realm you’ve been drawn to, you know,” Jem says from behind him, holding Mina in his arms after following him through the small patch of trees.

Kit doesn’t know, but he isn’t surprised to hear it. Just another instinctive thing, like gardening, like the weapon in the woods.

“I was waiting for you to come to us about it,” Jem adds.

“I thought about it,” Kit admits. “But after everything you’ve done for me…”

Jem’s look of curiosity softens as Kit’s words trail off and his gaze lowers to the grass below.

“You always have a home with us, but you aren’t obligated to it,” Jem reassures him. “Just as you aren’t obligated to pursue knowledge of the Fair Folk, either. It’s up to you.”

Kit wonders if he should have any decisions left to him at this point because he can’t shake the feeling that every turn he takes is wrong. He feels the ache of missing Ty, and even Dru and the others, every day. And now he has to decide if he wants to follow a path that may take him away from the only other people who have shown him kindness since his father died?

But standing here, feeling the energy from the entrance to a realm that calls to him stronger and more frequently ever since he opened the floodgate of tapping into his fey abilities, he realizes a part of him already knows what his answer will be.

“Will they even let me in?” Kit asks, reaching a hand through the air in front of him, half-expecting a portal to open right then and there now that he’s willing to take the risk.

“Not on your own. There are too many rules you don’t know, too many ways they would trick you into getting stuck there forever. The land under the hill is dangerous for anyone who does not live there,” Jem explains.

Kit wonders how close he just came to that very fate, if he’d followed the voices without question, or if Jem hadn’t shown up when he did.

“So I shouldn’t go,” Kit says, unable to keep the disappointment from his tone.

“I’m not saying that,” Jem corrects. “I said you shouldn’t go on your own. I have a few connections I can reach out to, to find you a proper guide - someone who can answer more of your questions than I can.”

Kit considers the offer, fighting the temptation to immediately roll his eyes and insist he can take care of himself. Finally, he nods.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Thank you,” he adds, surprised to hear the relief behind the words.

“You’re welcome,” Jem smiles. “Now, let’s get back before poor Tessa starts to worry.”

Later that night Kit comes down from his room to find Jem fast asleep on top of a spread of handwritten notes and open books. Creeping closer, Kit finds that they’re all about Faerieland, or fey abilities, or accounts of half-faeries throughout history. Among some of the things Jem wrote are ‘Bring more plant life into the house?’, a list of Seelies he knows to reach out to on behalf of Kit, and tips on channeling and harnessing intuitive magic.

Jem is going out of his way to learn whatever he can to help Kit, and the realization that he isn’t going to be alone in this is all Kit needs to know that he’s making the right call. He isn’t abandoning one life for another just because he’s curious. He doesn’t have to, not with Jem and Tessa going out of their way to give him anything he needs, whatever that may be at the moment.

Kit doesn’t wake Jem up, and instead wanders over to the window, looking up at the stars. He hears the call, he feels the pull, but he stays put for now. Because it isn’t a secret to keep hidden any longer - he has support now, and soon he’ll have a path and people to help guide him. There’s a difference, he’s learning, between being able to take care of himself, and needing to take care of himself.

There’s a lot of uncertainty in his future, danger both known and unknown, but one glance back at Jem reminds him that he doesn’t have to run off and try to face it alone.

More importantly, for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t want to.

#kit herondale #jem carstairs #tessa gray #tsc #fanfic #I really hope you like this!#I wanted to explore him feeling a pull but also had a sudden bout of found family feels where I didn't want him to run off on his own #so i fused the two and I hope it turned out alright!#and thanks for sending this prompt in! it was really fun to explore!#also since they never explain a ton about fey magic I decided i wanted it to be very nature-based like a 'the land gives back' sort of vibe #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post #ask rune #anon glamour activated

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atths--twice · 3 years

Link

Chapter Four

Sunday afternoon, two days after they had dined together, Dana and Fox were strolling through the marketplace, looking at the many wares people had to sell. She was carrying a basket and had already purchased a few pieces of fruit he had never seen before. He had offered to pay for them seeing as it was he who had asked her to join him, but she would not hear of it.

Since he had last seen her, he had begun a quest to learn all he could in regards to Kha’ari. He had read what was available in his room, venturing back downstairs when he had finished, looking in the larger library for more information. He had found only one book and the description of her had been more informative, but not enough.

Saturday he had gone to the library in town and spent the majority of the day within its walls, hunting for even more information. Copying down what he had learned into his journal, he had begun to gain an idea of who that goddess was and also was pained to think of why Dana had been so drawn to her.

He had thought of her hand grazing her throat, touching the chain and locket, wondering about the picture held inside. Was it a lover? Her husband? She wore no ring, so he could not be sure. Whatever had transpired, the source of it included the contents of that locket.

“Have you had any other adventures since I last saw you?” Dana asked with a smile. “Any new sketches to share?” He chuckled and shook his head.

“No. Not any new sketches, but I have been researching Kha’ari.” She stopped walking and he saw a look of shock on her face.

“You have?” she asked and he nodded, taking her arm and moving forward as a man with a wagon attempted to pass by.

“Your account of her intrigued me along with the fact that I seemed to have completely glossed over her existence among the other goddesses.”

“It’s understandable, as I did the same,” she said with a nod. “What did you find out?”

“Quite a bit. She’s actually incredibly interesting. Many of the gods and goddesses had a scale of measure it seemed. The goddess Ammit, for example, devoured the hearts of souls who were not justified by Osiris. A scale of worth.”

“True, but it’s similar to most religions. The concept of heaven or hell, where a soul will reside, is dependent on your behavior and belief in the higher power.” He nodded with a smile and a tilt of his head, asking her a silent question. “I was raised catholic, though… I’m questioning some things these days.” She sighed and removed her arm from his, switching her basket to that hand.

“Yes, they are similar. But with Kha’ari,” he said as she stopped and spoke to a woman, picking out more fruit. “She was one who accepted all, turned no one away, and took on their pain, demanding or expecting nothing in return.”

“Yes,” Dana said, thanking the woman with a smile and a nod. “Yet many people brought offerings and gifts for their thankfulness.”

“Understandable,” he said. “Without the show of appreciation, they may have felt that pain and suffering would come to them again.”

“Yes,” she said again, softly, her hand once more going to her throat for a brief second.

“I would like to ask something of you,” he said, his heart rate increasing with his worry at what her response would be to his question.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to know if you would consider… being my guide, your knowledge of her being greater than my own.” He watched her profile and saw when she understood his words. She turned her head and looked at him with an expression he could not read. Incredulity? Fear? Anger? He did not know.

“You… you can’t be serious,” she said, shaking her head. “I… it’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Why?” she repeated with a bitter laugh, her anger now more than obvious. Walking through an archway and away from the marketplace, he quickened his steps to keep up with her.

“Why are you angry with me?” he asked, not understanding what happened.

“I’m not angry. Well… I don’t know if I am. No, I am angry with you.” She stopped walking and stared at him, her entire countenance exuding her anger. “How dare you… to suggest…” She shook her head, words failing her.

“I… I thought you would be pleased,” he replied honestly, surprised at her words.

“Pleased? No, I am not.”

“Why?”

“Do you have permission? Do you have a team of people? A plan? Have you any of that?” She stared at him, her eyebrows raised and he shook his head.

“No.”

“No. You haven’t. And yet you ask me, a stranger, and a woman, to traipse off into the desert with you, alone, to find something of which you knew nothing two days ago.”

“I… Miss Scully,” he said, choosing to not use her first name, showing his respect to her. “Please know I meant no harm or disrespect. Honestly that thought never even entered my mind.” He shook his head again with a shrug of his shoulders. “I only meant that I see the appeal of such a discovery, and I would like to conduct a search, though only with your assistance.”

Her anger, which had risen quickly, was cooling as he saw her relax, her shoulders dropping as a breath was released. She swallowed and closed her eyes briefly, pressing her lips together.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her slightly wet eyes on his own. “I’ve wanted to search for it for so long, but I also know it’s impossible.”

“Begging your pardon,” he said quietly. “Without meaning to offend… for you it may be, but not I.” She stared at him and he continued. “You hinted at it the other night. I have considerable wealth, thanks to my family, my father specifically. I have no wife, no children, and unless I change my bachelor ways, it may always be so. I haven’t… I’ve had…” He cleared his throat and sighed deeply, not wanting to share his past hardships and pain. “I want to do this and I will work to find a way to make it happen. If I am able, will you join me?” She took a deep breath, looked around as she let it out. He waited, understanding the weight of his question.

“Can… can I have some time? It’s all so much so quickly and I…” She looked at him, beseeching him to understand.

“Of course. I understand the hesitancy. It will be some work and so…” He nodded with a smile and she released a deep breath.

“Thank you. I… thank you.” She looked around and spotted a bench. “Would you like to try some of this fruit?” Gesturing to her basket, he nodded with a smile, the awkwardness of the discussion pushed aside.

For now.

_______________________

Over the next couple of weeks, he saw less of Dana, both because she seemed to have pulled away from him, not returning quick informative letters of updates to his plan which he sent to her flat, and he was inquiring how he could gain permission to claim a dig site.

Told different information from many people, he decided to act as he believed he should have from the beginning, and speak to the person in charge of the museum.

He dressed carefully the day he visited, wanting to convey his wealth, something he never paid much attention to, it simply being a part of him. He was not a man who flaunted it, wanting others to see him and not his money. But in this instance, if they saw him as being beneficial, he would do what he could to acquire what he wanted.

Waiting outside of the office of a man named Jean Badeaux, he rehearsed his speech once again in his head. Key points were hit and then the door opened, his heart racing as he stepped forward to plead his case.

It did not go as he had planned.

Jean Badeaux was a man of sixty, loud, large, and obnoxious. Fox did not like him, finding his manner crude and embarrassing. He knew, however, that Mr. Badeaux held the key to his future plans and thus he remained relatively silent while in his company.

When Fox told him of his desire to discover the temple of the goddess Kha’ari, Jean Badeaux laughed heartily and shook his head.

“There is not a temple erected to the goddess Kha’ari, Mr. Mulder. I do not know where you heard that it was a possibility.”

“I believe it is true,” Fox said, standing his ground.

“You can believe as you like, sir, but it’s simply not true.”

They stared at one another and Fox once again stated that he believed himself to be correct. Mr. Badeaux shook his head, looked at his pocket watch before sticking out his hand, dismissing Fox with a condescending smile.

He stood, but instead of accepting his hand, Fox reached into his coat pocket and took out his pocketbook, his eyes on Mr. Badeaux.

“Could your museum do with a donation? A quite… large donation?” Fox asked and Mr. Badeaux stared at him, his eyes falling to the check which Fox knew was within his view. Giving him a curt nod of acceptance, Fox knew the matter had been solved.

The amount was large, but to him it was worth every cent if he could have a chance to find his purpose, and most importantly, if Dana could fulfill what she believed to be an impossible dream.

Leaving the office, a letter of approval in his pocketbook, he walked downstairs, pacing in front of the door which led to the staircase to the research office. He debated internally whether he should bother her while she was working again, especially as they had not had any contact recently.

But this information, the excitement of it, could not be contained to a letter. He was sure that his penned words would never be able to suffice the happiness he felt.

Looking around, he quickly opened the door and walked down the stairs, down the long hallway, turned left and arrived at the glass door marked ‘Research.’

Pacing again, he looked down the hall, feeling he would be caught at any moment and ordered to leave. He clenched his jaw and nodded his head. A hand on the doorknob, he looked through the glass and saw Dana staring at him.

She was a few feet away, but he could see her eyes widen as she glanced to her right, her fellow researcher walking past and not noticing him, Dana saying something to her which he could not hear. She shook her head as she began to step closer to the door, the blue cap covering her hair making her eyes seem even bluer.

He waited for her to open the door, trying to calm his racing heart. When the knob turned, she stepped through it quickly and motioned for him to be quiet and to follow her. He did with a nod and they walked down the hall to a door which she opened, revealing a decent sized supply closet with brooms and mops. She closed the door and they were plunged into darkness.

“Uhh, sorry.” Opening the door, she took the matches and lit the lamp hanging from the ceiling and closed the door again, staring up at him expectantly. “What are you doing here now?”

“I had an appointment.”

“An appointment.”

“Yes.”

“With whom?”

“Jean Badeaux.” Her eyes widened again and she looked down, shaking her head.

“Mr. Badeaux, the man in charge of this entire museum?”

“Yes.” Looking up at him, she let out a breath before licking her lips. “I told you I would find a way.”

“And have you?” He smiled slowly with a nod. “No. Are you serious?” She seemed near shock and he smiled wider.

“I am exceedingly serious.”

“You… how?”

“It’s amazing what a donation to the museum can do to help a person’s cause along.”

She stared at him and then she began to laugh, stunning him and rooting him in place; he had never heard her laugh in that manner. When she calmed, she shook her head.

“And he took it of course? That man is nothing if not greedy.”

“And if we find something, he gains praise and attention. If we fail… he gains a donation and he doesn’t need to get his hands dirty.”

“We?” she asked softly, and he nodded.

“I did not mention you to him, did not speak of you at all,” he assured her. “But my offer, my plan in my mind includes you. I don’t… I don’t have an idea of where to start, but I know you do. It would be a strictly professional relationship. I will employ you, so you will not be lacking monetarily.” He wanted to say more, but left it there, letting it be her decision.

She took a deep breath, crossing her arms as she dropped her head. He waited, nearly certain her answer would be no, fear holding her back even as he knew she ached to go. She sniffled twice and then raised her head, a hand at her throat, her eyes wet.

“When can we leave?” she whispered, wiping her eyes.

He grinned slowly as she laughed and cried simultaneously, his laughter soon joining hers.

#The X-Files #XF Fanfic #Alternate Universe #Historical AU #New Friends #Planning #Archaeology #Gods and Goddesses

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yezielmoore · 3 years

Text

Day 12: Extra Credit.

Wait, what it that noise? Oh look, it's canon falling off the rails, whoops!

Kaito's extra bits of the Echo is fantasy synesthesia, with a dash of empathy. When someone talks or makes noise he sees that as colors that best represent their soul. Much less intense is the flavors he tastes that he asociates with each person he meets and change sligthly with strong feelings.

~.~.~

Prompt: Adversary.

n. one that contends with, opposes, or resists: an enemy or opponent.

He isn’t sure what he's seeing and tasting at first, in those first weeks after being dropped off in Limsa Lominsa by Hana, who was deep blue and pink with bursts of yellow and whose words tasted like that green tea from her homeland. He still remembers the bitter tang her parting words left in his tongue, the same he tasted each and every time she checked on him while pretending she was doing other, more important, things and he was a pit-stop.

Hana had been terribly confusing.

It takes him a while to figure out the basics beyond see and taste words and sounds. He realizes that people are palettes and no two persons have the same color combination or hue, it is as good as having a personal ID on everyone he meets. He doesn't figure out the taste for the longest time, not until Ifrit, when those tempered went… wrong. Their colors smothered under the same hue as the primal and all their individual flavors taking on the same sweet/rotten tang. It had been incredibly disturbing and disconcerting at the time, but be had put together a theory afterwards.

Even so, he hadn't realized this strange ability of his was anything to write home about. So he can see sounds, what of it? It's not very useful, now is it? In identifying those tempered, sure, but unless someone pulls a switcheroo, why would it matter?

'Why indeed', he thinks wryly as he enters the Solar in the Walking Sands and stops dead in his tracks, eyes immediately zeroing on the anomaly in their midst.

“My friend, welcome…” Minfilia greets him with her customary warm smile, which falters when she sees his expression. “Is aught amiss?”

“Yes, yes there is,” Kaito says calmly, far more calm than he feels. He prowls forwards, eyes fixed unerringly on Thancred, who raises an eyebrow in a wordless question. “Let’s start easy with the easy question. Who the fuck are you?”

Around this strange stand-off the other scions, already worried at his uncharacteristically hostile actions, all tense in alarm. They are uncertain and he can't really blame them. Fond of him as they are, Thancred has been one of them for much, much longer. However, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to him, they trust him a lot more than he would have dared believe, newcomer that he is. It’s for this reason that they don’t immediately jump on him, choosing instead a watch and see approach.

For his part, Thancred's eyes widen at the accusation, the shock in his expression completely genuine. He has caught the interloper by surprise it seems, but instead of the worry and alarm that Kaito would expect Thancred to betray in the face of an accusation such as this, all he sees behind the façade is an icy cold and shrewd intelligence that is now entirely focused on him. He can practically feel those eyes dissecting him and rapidly reassessing the situation. It’s unnerving on the extreme.

Not that the real Thancred isn’t smart and sharp as a tack, he's definitely one of the smartest people Kaito knows, and he can be ruthless, certainly, but Thancred isn’t cold like this. If the minute shuffling and the taste of stale dark chocolate on his tongue is anything to go by, then Y'shtola has also noticed the discrepancy.

“Now, why would you think that?” ‘Thancred’ asks with a worried air about him and a shake of his head. “Did you perchance have some peculiar encounter on your travels? I wouldn’t put it past our robed foes to concoct something while you were on your own.”

The words confirm it. Like will-o'-wisps, they paint the air around 'Thancred' with colors… a fiery red crossed with bright orange and stabbed everywhere with a deep virulent purple. It is utterly unlike the warm pink, orange and soft yellow threaded with cool blue that Kaito has come to associate with Thancred, either a sunrise or a sunset, constant all the same. Everything about the stranger's colors is more, somehow, deeper and richer. Saturated to the point of provoking a headache.

As the wisps fade away, they leave behind a strong aftertaste of burnt sugar. Kaito clicks his tongue, as if that would serve to dislodge the sensation.

This… ability or whatever, it isn’t something Kaito has thought too deeply about, not when other matters had been so pressing at the time. He should have given the matter more consideration. At the very least he should have given his allies a heads up, because he probably is coming off as addled if not deranged to everyone minus the imposter who is probably laughing at him.

"Aye, but unlike Thancred I was never on my own, was I? I was surrounded by people all the time and then I hitched a ride with the aetherytes in between. Unless you're suggesting our foes can pluck people from the aether currents, then I don’t see how I could've had a tête-à-tête with them." He glares at the other man who has the gall to look disturbed. Everyone else is still on edge and Kaito knows, knows, they’ll run out of patience soon. He can only hope the intruder is as short-sighted as the other robed fool they met. "The difference is like day and night; you look nothing like Thancred."

Finally, for some reason, it is this what makes the stranger drop the charade. His alert but not-quite-tense posture changes and the bewildered air around him immediately morphs into one of utter menace. It's like seeing a housecat shed its skin and turn into a chimera while sitting on your lap.

The scions, who had remained guarded but made no move for or against the proceedings, immediately ready their weapons, the sounds exploding in a rainbow of colors that is strangely calming in their familiarity. It's Urianger, ever watchful and cautious Urianger, that gently tugs a shocked and vulnerable Minfilia closer to him, a topaz carbuncle bursting into existence in front of them both at his silent command.

Kaito's axe, always close at hand, is now drawn and pointed at the enemy wearing a friend's face.

“Well, well, well, color me impressed.” This time the wisps don’t just float around, they practically lash out, glowing so violently that for a moment Kaito is afraid they will gain tangibility and wreck everything. He gags as the taste of burnt sugar turns into sweet charcoal. “That one of you broken creatures could have such an unusual Echo in this pitiful age. Hydaelyn’s chosen, no less!” With liquid grace, not-Thancred stalks closer until his chest is touching Kaito’s axe, seemingly unconcerned about the threat. “Tell me, adventurer, do you really think you can stop me?”

Kaito grits his teeth against the sensory overload and the headache that pounds away inside his skull, a retort full of bravado already on his tongue. Before he can answer, however, a fireball whizzes past his ear, forcing not-Thancred to retreat.

“It’s not just him you have to contend with, fiend,” Papalimo warns, coffee cookies washing away the rage and death that choked him before. Aether gathers and swirls around the thaumaturge as he prepares another spell. A spell that never comes as Yda takes the opening her partner gave her and uses it to land an impressive combo full of punches and kicks that would have broken bones on any normal man.

Unfortunately, whoever this impostor is, normal he is not.

Disappearing and then reappearing closer to the door, he looks at each of the scions until his gaze zeroes once more on Kaito.

“So it seems,” he acknowledges with a bored air that is simply galling and has all of them bristling without meaning to. “Enjoy your futile resistance while you can then.”

“Wait!” Minfilia cries out from behind the protection the combatants provided. She’s pale and her knuckles are white from clutching the edge of her desk. “Is Thancred… What did you do to him?!”

Not-Thancred smirks. It’s an expression that has always been at home in Thancred’s face, fond and mischievous and always a bit flirty, but right now is full of malice. “Who knows.”

And then he is gone.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #kaito seaborn #yeziel writes #my writing

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s-horne · 4 years

Note

BASICALLY its about tony showing his love through food sorry that was really long

okay so i had this idea, and im really swamped with work so im passing it over to you: tony associates caring and love with food. when he was really young, he would sit on his mamma's hip, one of her arms around his tiny waist as she stirred with the other, and as he grew older and howard started demanding more of her attention (for this charity or that benefit); the only time tony and his mom spent together was in the kitchen together. 1/2)

years later, tony equates food to love. he cooks for the people he cares about. and then i lost the thread of the idea but it involves steve and tony and peter and tony cooking for steve and teaching peter recipes that he can later teach his kid (2/2)

Please enjoy 3k words of Tony in the kitchen; preparing meals for his husband and their friends, his&Steve’s adoption process, and then Tony’s legacy

*******

Spaghetti Bolognese

It was an affront to the meal. His Mama would kill him if she knew how he was preparing it.

It was the only meal she’d actually known how to cook and they had a weekly Thursday night dinner date in the kitchen when Howard worked late at the office. She’d carry him round on her hip when he was too small to see what she was preparing on the countertops and, when he’d grown a little taller, sit him in pride of place to sound out every word of the passed-down recipe written in her mother’s cursive handwriting.

Of course, Maria knew exactly what the recipe called for – which was a good job when Tony tripped over some of the measurements or skipped down a couple of lines by accident – but she let him play along until he was old enough to help her cook the actual meal itself.

It was definitely the thought that counted, Tony tried to tell himself as he stared down at the meagre ingredients in front of him. He had to work with what he had and what he had wasn’t much. The only tomatoes he’d had in his cupboards were the tinned kind, so the sauce wouldn’t be as good as his Mama’s when she used the fresh tomatoes from the farmer’s market they had to drive out of town for.

He’d only wanted to make something a little special for Steve. Their anniversary had been interrupted by a battle and they’d gone from a romantic meal at a five-star restaurant to suited up and locked in a fight with an alien invader. Given that they were meant to eat out, their kitchen wasn’t exactly stocked for cooking.

“Need a hand?”

Tony lifted his gaze from the two jars of dried herbs he’d been choosing between. Neither were particularly appealing so he was glad of a distraction. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Woke up,” Steve said, stifling a yawn behind his hand as he wandered over to Tony. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Tony agreed with a roll of his eyes, a fond smile tugging at his lips. He turned back to the dried ingredients in front of him as he waved to the other side of the kitchen, eyes drawn to the way his ring caught the light. “You can chop whichever onion hasn’t gone off over there. I think there’s actually a part of the serum that means you won’t cry whilst you chop it.”

Steve huffed a laugh, trailing his hand over Tony’s hip as he passed him. “Pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out. Dice it finely, please.”

Vegetable Soup

Vegetable soup was easy. Most soups were easy, really. Tony could make most of them with one hand. Chopping the vegetables was sometimes a little tricky with his arm in a sling, but he could stir the vat of broth easily.

After a battle, it was all that anyone needed. A few loaves of bread in the centre of the table and a mountain of pain relievers handed round with the crockery and they were set.

“Can I help?”

Tony looked up from the pot and over to Peter, hovering in the doorway with his arms wrapped round himself. He looked young, so much younger than he was. “You’re meant to be resting.”

“Couldn’t sleep. The pills hurt my head.”

“But they heal everything else.” Tony beckoned Peter over before he turned back to the stovetop. “How do you feel?”

“Like someone dropped a bus on me.”

“Been there. Grab a tomato and stop chopping.”

Peter did so wordlessly, shooting Tony a soft smile as he slid into a chair by the table. “What else do you want me to do?”

“A few peppers, if you’d like.”

“How thick?”

“Whatever you want.” Tony watched Peter out of the corner of his eye, the way that he winced when he reached for a fresh vegetable in the middle of the table and how he moved gingerly with his eyes narrowed into slits. “How bad is it?”

Peter sighed. He worked on carefully dicing his whole pepper before he spoke again. “Bad. I can’t go home. No one can see these injuries. They’re already questioning me and this will push them over the edge of kicking me out.”

“You’re already home,” Tony said lightly, concentrating on adding a few spices to his soup instead of looking back at Peter. He could feel eyes on the side of his face and fought the urge to turn with everything he had. “After we’ve eaten, I’ll show you the papers.”

The pot bubbled, loud in the otherwise silent room. Tony smiled down at it as he stirred in large circles, scraping the side of the vat where the sauce threatened to burn.

“I’d like that.” Peter sniffed a little and let out a muffled curse. “Well. I’m done with these. Can I help you make the bread?”

Rosemary Focaccia

Tony loved making his own bread. When he was a child, their cook would only let him in the kitchen if he promised to be calm and quiet and she’d quickly realised that one way to keep him like that was to prop him in front of an oven to stare at the bread as it rose.

The smell of yeast and the uncooked dough turned Tony’s stomach as he’d gotten older, but there was nothing better than the scent the bread produced when it started to bake. Fresh rosemary only added to that, or maybe even a few cloves of garlic mixed in with the dough.

Focaccia took a long time to knead and for the rising process to get done perfectly, but spending that long watching over it in the kitchen meant that Peter could sit at the breakfast bar to finish his homework and not be alone.

Peter hated being alone. They’d discovered that pretty quickly after he’d moved into the tower with the rest of the team and had all started going almost out of their way to ensure that Peter didn’t have to suffer by himself. It wasn’t exactly a hardship for Steve to sketch in the communal living room instead of his bedroom, or for Sam and Bucky to train on the mats in the middle of the gym whilst Peter ran laps around the edge to get out of his own head.

And if definitely wasn’t a problem for Tony to dig out the recipe books that had been sent to him after their cook had passed away and flick through them to find an old Italian favourite that would take him a good couple of hours to perfect.

Cookies were a staple in Tony’s recipe book. There were many different varieties, so many tweaks that could be made to each batch to make a different cookie type for any occasion.

“–so that’s why Ned isn’t allowed into the theatre practice room anymore,” Peter said in-between bites of a pecan and chocolate chip cookie. “So we can’t go in to see Madison when she’s in there. We have to meet in the math rooms.”

Tony nodded along as though he’d understood any word Peter had been babbling on about. “Right.” He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d asked to prompt Peter’s longwinded explanation, but he didn’t mind the company.

“Oi, Spider-kid.”

Peter jumped comically at the voice from behind them and Tony shot an arm out to catch him before he fell off the breakfast bar he’d perched himself on. “Jeez, what – oh. Black Widow. Ma’am, I didn’t, I’m sorry, I–”

“Gym,” Natasha said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder to show where she wanted Peter to go. “Spar session. You’re ten minutes late.”

Peter’s eyes went wide and he scrambled for his phone, paling when he realised that he was, in fact, late. Tony couldn’t hide his amusement and snorted loudly, earning himself a dirty look from Peter and an unamused eyebrow raise from Natasha.

“And don’t think you’re getting out of it, either,” Natasha said to him. “Steve is already down there with Thor. They could do with a third. A mediator of sorts.”

“Oh, no.” Tony shot a faux-upset look towards Peter before grinning at Tash, “sorry, but these cookies just aren’t going to bake themselves, now, are they? Pete’s good for the job, though. Practical experience and all that.”

Peter’s glare was about as powerful as a newborn kitten’s, but it tugged at Tony’s heart nonetheless. Giving him a smile, Tony reached for the batch of raspberry cookies he had just pulled from the oven and counted out ten.

“A special treat,” he said, urging Peter off the breakfast bar and herding him in Natasha’s direction. Setting the cookies on a plate at his side, Tony winked at the kid. “For when you’re finished. You’ll need to get your sugar levels back up.”

Rigatoni Pasta Bake

The only difference between Tony’s preferred version of a pasta bake and the classic that Ana had taught him as a child was that his was a bit more adventurous. It served to make things just a little bit more exiting. Everything he did was done with a flair of the dramatics, so it made sense for cooking to follow the same lines.

Making his pasta bake was an excuse to throw everything in his cupboards into the mixture. A hundred different varieties of cheese for the topping, ground beef and sausages for the filling and whatever vegetables he found in the back of the fridge to make the meal just a tiny bit healthy. Tony loved to make it, loved to spend an entire afternoon shaping each piece of pasta if he really wanted to get out of his head. Experimenting with different sauces was his favourite – a tomato sauce for a rainy Sunday afternoon, a cheese sauce for an evening in front of the television, a mushroom and white wine sauce for a romantic evening in.

His pasta bake was the first meal he’d made when they’d finally adopted Peter, legally and truly. Maybe a small part of him had been wanting to show off, but Tony had really cared about making sure Peter had a real square meal. Something to help him recover from the small scrapes he’d gotten in his night-time brawls, to repair some of the damage of malnourishment from his previous home.

It was something so simple, but made with so much care.

Apple Pie

As stereotypical as it may have been, Steve loved apple pie. It had been something of a staple in his household when he’d been growing up and his mom had made it whenever they managed to get the fresh ingredients needed. Steve spoke so fondly of her hours in the kitchen, telling how he was often too ill and weak to do much more than sit at her side and watch, that sometimes Tony felt as though he’d been there too.

Sweet pastry wasn’t Tony’s favourite thing to make, so he chose to keep it for really special occasions. The sort of days where he wanted to spoil Steve a little, wanted to make him feel important and loved and all the things that Steve made Tony feel every day.

Tossing out the apple cores and scraps he’d collected on the side of his chopping board, Tony settled in to decorate his pie. He preferred the open-top approach, liking to cover his filling with thin slices of apple and a sprinkling of cinnamon and sugar instead of more pastry. Lost in thought, Tony startled when Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and pressed a kiss to his neck.

“Happy birthday,” Tony murmured as he fell back against Steve’s chest. “Wasn’t expecting you up just yet. Thought I tired you out last night.”

“Hm. You did a pretty good job, but the bed was empty. I don’t like it when the bed’s empty.”

“Sorry, darling. Wanted to make this for your birthday breakfast.”

Steve nosed at Tony’s shoulder, dropping kisses to the bare skin there. The first thing Tony had found on their bedroom floor when he’d woken at the crack of dawn was a workout shirt of Steve’s. Given its size, the material hung off Tony’s frame. It wasn’t practical, but it was cozy.

Sexy, as well, apparently, if the hardness pressing against his ass was anything to go by.

“Pie for breakfast?” Steve asked, hooking his chin over Tony’s shoulder as his hand shot out to snaffle a piece of apple floating in the bowl of warm water at Tony’s elbow. “How lucky am I?”

“Of course it’s pie for breakfast,” Tony said, hands working quickly to place the apple slices on the top of the very-nearly finished pie. He kicked at Steve’s ankle for punishment of the theft, but couldn’t find it in him to be too mean. “It’s not every day you turn four hundred and seventy-three.”

Standing as close as they were, Tony felt Steve’s laugh vibrate through him.

“Demon.”

“That’s me,” Tony replied happily, laughing with Steve and tilting his head to one side when Steve bit at his neck in retaliation. “Now, get off me, you brute. Let me stick this back in to brown.”

Moving back a fraction, Steve’s hands danced over Tony’s stomach. “How long do we have?”

Tony sighed happily when the pie was in, his eyes falling closed when Steve swapped from biting to sucking a deep bruise just above his pulse point. “Long enough.”

Indian Potato Pie

“Here, try this.”

Whatever Steve had been about to say was cut off by Tony shoving a forkful of potato-filled pastry in his mouth.

“Well? What do you think?”

Steve fanned his mouth. “I think it’s hot,” he said through the mouthful of crust. “Did you cook this with lava?”

“But what about the texture? The filling – do you think it needs more of a kick? I only put in a small amount of chilli flakes this time and a lot less ginger than I did before. I think I liked it better last time.”

“Tony,” Steve reached out and caught Tony’s hand, taking the fork from him before twisting their fingers together, “this pie is perfect. You’ve been making it since you were a child. You’ve perfected it so much you could make it in your sleep.”

“No,” Tony said dismissively, turning back to the counter and peering at the unbaked pie on the side. “I think it needs more salt. You can taste it in the crust. Let me just redo the pastry.”

Steve used his grip on Tony’s hand to pull Tony into his chest, wrapping his free arm around Tony’s waist to hold them close together. Tony gave up without a fight, his shoulders slumping as he rested his hand on Steve’s chest.

“Please stop worrying,” Steve whispered. “Replace the bit you shoved in my face and pop it in the oven. It’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Steve ducked his head and caught Tony’s lips in a sweet kiss. “I know you and I know our son. He wouldn’t be bringing someone home unless they were special to him. There’s no way we can scare them off. Not with a pie, at least.”

Tony Stark-Rogers’ Recipe Book

The book had taken him years to complete. Tony had started it as a young boy when Jarvis had bought him an empty journal for his fourth birthday. For the first few years of its existence, Tony had hidden it under his bed just in case Howard ever entered his room and caught sight of it.

Every page had been handwritten, carefully crafted letters spelling out the words of each recipe (and most of them had even been spelt right because Jarvis had helped him).

There were sections of his Mama’s recipes, the ones she’d passed down to him from her Mama and even her Mama’s Mama. Though Tony had never gotten to meet either of them them, he’d known even as a child that that was pretty important.

Ana Jarvis had a section as well, one with special Hungarian recipes that Tony had needed a lot of help to spell. He’d shown Ana one day, down in the kitchens. He’d pointed out all the best bits that he’d coloured in the colours of Hungary’s flag and Ana had started crying. Tony had been horrified and started tearing up himself before she promised him that he was a lovely little boy and she was crying because she was so very proud of him. Even as an adult, Tony remembered that he’d gotten a huge hug that night before bed and an extra special plate of lemon squares brought up to his room – made just for him!

As he’d gotten older and his book had gotten fuller, Tony had carefully moved it from journal to journal, cutting out pages and sticking them back into the next edition with slight amendments or scribbled changes to quantities. It was his pride and joy.

“You’re going to take care of this, aren’t you?”

The child stared at him with wide eyes, so big they were nearly popping out of their head. They didn’t speak a word, but their head just about wobbled off with the velocity of their nodding.

“You’re going to listen to Nonno when he tells you what to do in the kitchen?”

Another round of silent nodding and Tony laughed, bending down to his grandchild’s level. Holding out his arms, he let his precious recipe book rest in the palm of his hands, ready for the taking.

“Go on then, bambino. It’s yours.”

Tiny fingers curled over the edges of the stained and battered book, complete concentration etched all over the child’s face. The love Tony felt threatened to beat right out of his chest and he reached out to flick his grandchild’s nose.

“What shall we bake for your first try? I’m pretty sure there’s a good recipe for mini cupcakes in there, somewhere, and I need an assistant chef.”

Tony had no qualms about handing his book down to the next wave of Starks. His children had grown up in the kitchen working tirelessly next to him to feed their teammates and friends, their siblings and their partners. It was time.

The kitchen was the heart of the home, after all.

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nadiaportia · 3 years

Text

Sayelle of Bizatena

art by @ia-bi-tia

The adventurous disciple with a rare gift

Other bios: Ximena | Deirdra | Heloisa | Cibela

Full name: Sayelle bint Zahir (”Sayelle, daughter of the Magician”)

Meaning of name: Amalgation of “Sayid” and “Elle”; Arabic for “patient” and French for “she”

Family:

Faarooq al-Rashid and Balqis bint Oaisara: Sayelle’s biological parents. They died when their child was only a baby in an earthquake that was part of what would later be called “The Cataclysm that almost was”, during which both an earthquake as well as a tsunami devasted parts of Bizatena.

Farida bint Zahir: Sayelle’s mentor and adoptive mother. She along the other apprentices of age helped raise the children brought to the Magician’s temple and later on took on the role of tutor in all affairs of life for Sayelle. She is supportive of her ward and protects her affinity for umbramancy as soon as it manifests.

Khentkawes: A dodo and Sayelle’s familiar. During a trip to an island north of Prakra, Sayelle got lost and injured but was guided back to the village by a perceptive and helpful bird. She decided to leave her peers behind to travel with Sayelle and see the rest of the world like only very few flightless birds living on an island could. Khentkawes is very clever and an equal partner in running Sayelle’s magic shop, responsible for cataloguing the goods kept and sold.

Nickname: Sally

Favourite meal: Tabbouleh, heavy on the spring onions and mint

Favourite drink: Pomegranate juice

Favourite flower: Hibiscus

Favourite color: Turquoise

Birthday: 27th of April

Age: 33 during the events of the game

Zodiac: Taurus

MBTI: ENFJ

Patron Arcana: Wheel of Fortune and the Seven of Cups

Upright: The Wheel turns endlessly with the passage of time, changing fortunes as if by whim.

Reversed: The Wheel must return all to its beginning- life cannot remain in the sun forever.

Upright: In dreams possibilities seem endless, but the waking world won't wait for you forever.

Reversed: Sometimes an offer is too good to be true. Be wary of false promises in the coming days.

Gender: Trans female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Height: 1,70 m // 5′6″

Appearance:

Sayelle is of slender build. Her skin is light brown with a cold undertone and she has an angular face. There are freckles on her cheekbones and nose, which is of aquiline shape. She has dark gray eyes and slightly full lips. Her wavy lilac hair is usually braided with some streaks being loose and in her face and her eyebrows are rather thin.

She usually wears small black glasses on her nose, a golden nostril ring and a golden necklace with a small turquoise pendant. She wears brown lipstick and dark brown winged eyeliner.

She carries herself with ease, a certain light-footedness and confidence.

Visual inspirations:

Golshifteh Farahani

Languages spoken: Bizateni, Zadithi, Prakran, the Common Tongue of the People of the Drylands, Firentian, Kerusksch and the Common Tongue

Magical abilities:

Air-based magic, the ability to conjure storms and manipulating temperatures

Umbramancy; shadow magic that requires a lot of discipline and focus. She can travel faster through darkness, is able to communicate with “the shadows” and has a connection to nocturnal animals and everything that primarily lives in in the dark.

Astral magic; the ability to separate her mind from her body even within the mortal realm, and having her conscience pass into the realms of the dead

Love interests:

Nadia

Deirdra: They were together for a brief time, broke up due to realizing they weren’t in the right headspace to be in a relationship, and during the events of the game have to work through some issues that happened while Vesuvia was a victim of the plague.

In general, like with most of my characters; if they’re compatible sexuality-wise as well as personality-wise, feel free to ship them with your OCs or MCs. Hit me up with a message and we can discuss the details!

Backstory:

After the death of her parents, the young Sayelle was like most children without parents or potential guardians taken to one of many temples where the Magician was revered and his craft taught. Her mentor, a Bizateni magician who herself had grown up at the temple named Farida, taught the young apprentice everything she knew, coming to see her as someone with immense talent, drive and also like she was her own child.

Shortly after her arrival at the temple, Sayelle proved herself to have a great interest in all things that had to do with magic, something she had in common with her late parents but other than them who didn’t show any signs of being able to use magic, Sayelle turned out to be a prodigy. By the time she was ten, children her age paled against her magicks and spell work and she became a peer to many older children who were on her level of knowledge. She found both good friends, admirers of her talents as well as rivals amongst her fellow magicians, and yet grew to see them as siblings, and the adult magicians that taught them the ways of their creed as mentors and in a sense aunts and uncles.

At the age of 17, she symbolically shed the name given to her birth by her parents and took on one of her own choosing, as well as officially binding herself to the Magician with a name, like it happens to all adult residents of the temples. Now legally of age, Sayelle was let into the secret arts of umbramancy - shadow magic - after Farida felt the affinity within her during the many years of training her and soon enough she mastered the spells so well that she was already on Farida’s level. It was sometime after that when the magician Soraya, who was in direct service to the Emir, came to visit the temple to look for potential acolytes to train at the Palace and was immediately drawn towards Sayelle and her master. Umbramancy was a highly revered form of magic, especially because there were very few who didn’t fear it due to its bad reputation or have bothered to get attuned to it - Farida being one of the few who had successfully done so but kept it a secret.

Sayelle and Farida were invited to come to the Palace and vouch for themselves in front of the Emir with Soraya’s help. The ruler was clearly impressed by Sayelle’s talents and thus she and Farida left their life at the temple behind and moved into their chambers at the Palace, now with Sayelle as the resident umbramancer and Farida as her assistant to uphold the lie that Farida had learned umbramancy from Sayelle as her mentor could have very well been executed for keeping these sorts of secrets from the Emir’s eyes and ears at the temple and the magicians at court. Other than Farida, who constantly felt unwell at the Palace and grew annoyed with the nobility’s antics, Sayelle came to enjoy the attention, the ability to buy whatever she desired and be able to live a life she had never even dreamt of.

Years passed but Sayelle came to realize how selfish the Bizateni nobles truly were, but she didn’t think she’d be able to leave as she was the resident umbramancer who technically was upheld more as a symbol of status – having a magician with a very rare specialty and affinity gave a lot of fame to the Bizateni city-state. Yet Farida committed a selfless sacrifice to grant her adoptive daughter and protégée freedom from the court; by claiming as herself as the more powerful umbramancer, she took Sayelle’s place, who from then on returned to the temple in which she grew up on but her abilities still made her highly desirable. She took a leave from Bizatena and ever since worked as an adventurer, exploring ancient ruins and learning from the cultures that used to live there and the ways they utilized magic.

It was during those extensive travels that she not only met her familiar Khentkawes, but also various other wandering magicians and scholars, one of them Asra Alnazar and his then-girlfriend Ximena Rubalcaba. With them she struck up a close friendship which ultimately convinced her to set foot in Vesuvia where she opened a shop for magical utensils and worked as a professional medium and made the acquaintance of Deirdra Margalit, a teacher living in South End, with whom she had a brief relationship and continued to be friends with. When the red plague claimed many lives in the city, she volunteered in helping fight the disease but was powerful when it claimed patients, some of which had been friends and colleagues. She broke off contact to Asra when finding out about him wanting to aid Lucio in a sinister ritual and continued to run her business as usual after the plague ran its course.

More art:

feat. Nadia by @joeyhazell-art | post

feat Deirdra by @missrabbitart | post

#the arcana #the arcana OC #the arcana original character #sayelle of bizatena #FINALLY! this one took so long to make esp w rewriting the bio a bit #but sayelle lovers... come get your backstory

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passable-talent · 4 years

Text

within the world of markiplier lore... set during the events of A Heist with Markiplier.

this fic is based off the brilliant and fascinating comic by @iiipeashy , using his character insert for the canonical y/n. this will all make a little more sense if you’ve read the comic, so please do... good shit!!!

I got permission before I used it! and if you’re at all interested in the additional backstory (more than I go into here), DEFINITELY check it out. fascinating plot, FANTASTIC art, and FOOD for all of us damien lovers out there. all the love @iiipeashy !!

Griffin knew that making a deal with Mark was akin to making a deal with the devil, but he didn’t realize just how bad it would be.

He should have known when Mark mentioned Damien that any reunion wouldn’t be the one he wanted, but he couldn’t help but take the deal anyway- if Mark could get him out of the mirror, wouldn’t the price be worth it?

Whatever the price may be?

Living in the van was annoying, and dealing with Mark even moreso, but ultimately, the job wasn’t so bad. He was out of the mirror, and he could walk again, live again.

You wouldn’t think you’d miss the sound of footsteps. You do.

Being used as bait, though, wasn’t quite as appetizing. Griffin hadn’t known what Mark meant at the time, but he would come to.

Thirty-one different endings for his little choose-your-own-adventure. One of them even involved Wil, which was quite a shock, but ended up being quite nice, to see an old friend again. Even if he wasn’t the same as when Griffin had seen him last. Thirty-one different endings, and it took weeks, agonizing weeks to film them all. Finally, though, Griffin was filming the last one- number thirty one. This time, he was going to be ‘murdered’ by the sewer cult, faceless figures that Mark conjured up, or roped into his game, just like Griffin. He knew the script, he knew the turns he had to make, he knew what he had to show to the camera strapped to his chest.

But things started going off script.

Immediately, Griffin’s head started pounding, and he looked down, shutting his eyes tightly to try to regain his balance. When he looked up, his surroundings had changed into a old hallway, one he swore he recognized, but he couldn’t place from where.

It was obvious that this wasn’t something Mark planned. That wasn’t Mark’s style- confusing Griffin like this would just lead to more takes, which would lead to wasted time, and Mark didn’t care for wasted time. Whatever this was, it wasn’t Mark’s doing.

A clank from his left made Griffin flinch, and turn, and the sight before him was something that rattled him to the core. On this bleary, colorless brick wall, an ornate frame, lit by a single light- with Mark’s personal chef pictured within it, his eyes scribbled out. Griffin’s head pounded, an echo punching through his skull, of the chef’s words, one of the last times Griffin had talked to him.

“I thought I told you to stay out of my kitchen!”

The phone that Mark had given him as a prop vibrated in Griffin’s pocket, and he fished it out immediately- it wasn’t even supposed to be on. But from an unknown number, he read an unsettling text, his eyes straining to pick out the words on a bright screen against his pounding headache.

Aren’t you tired of it?

Tired of what, Griffin begged to ask, but the dark hallway and the pounding headache made him drop the phone to the side, hoping to focus on one problem at a time. Another clank, this time from his right, forced him to turn, this time to see a photo of the butler, who disappeared from the mansion before Griffin was shot.

“Master would be so displeased! If only he were still alive!”

Every word rocked its way through Griffin’s head, splitting it open with a headache like none he’d experienced since... since he was put in the mirror, actually, all those years ago. When Damien and Celine left him there. The forced expulsion from his own body as it was taken by the siblings had driven a nail between his two temporal lobes, and he hadn’t felt pain like it since. Until now, that is. What was going on?

Another text, and Griffin lifted the phone again, focusing on the words as quickly as he could through the blurriness of detail around him. He didn’t need his glasses anymore, not since he’d gone in the mirror, but with his headache, the pixels of the letters blended together.

Don’t you feel like you’re running in circles?

Well, yeah, but wasn’t that Mark’s point? Who was texting him, anyway? How was this possible? The phone wasn’t even meant to be on.

A light to his left made Griffin look over, and he found a portrait this time of the detective- Abe, his one-time partner. He was an oddball, but Griffin wished him the best... didn’t Wil shoot him?

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted someone so god-damn gorgeous.”

Once again the phone vibrated, cutting through his splitting headache, which pounded through every echo of every word that Abe said, the sound swirling around him. It wasn’t from some speaker, but it wasn’t inside Griffin’s head, either. It was some combination of the two, hallucination, yet, experience.

No one seems to question it.

The end of the hallway was approaching fast as Griffin stumbled down it, and the last painting within the room was of Wil, his old friend. That weekend at the manor was all the time Griffin had ever gotten to know him, but he felt fondness for him, for all that he went through. Besides- he was the only one who was as willing to fight for Damien and Celine as Griffin was, when everyone else was ready to leave. He not only had his eyes crossed out, but also, the pink mustache was drawn large and curly over his face. Wilford Warfstache, as he had become. Griffin’s eyebrows turned up, his headache making him squint, but still feeling regret at the fate that Wil had suffered, descending into his madness.

“I thought that it was about time that we got to know each other. Far from the prying eyes of...”

The noise continued, but Griffin fought through it, reading the last text he received, this one making four. And he didn’t even know who’d sent them.

But I thought you’d see through it.

All that was left was a door at the end of the hall, and Griffin pushed through it, hoping to find an end, or at least a reprieve. He wasn’t so lucky.

“...anyone else.”

He emerged into a black room, vast yet confining, the whole of it impressing a feeling of both claustrophobia and vulnerability onto Griffin. Spotlights clicked on, leading him forward to one final painting- of Mark himself. Now he was sure that Mark wasn’t behind this.

“But it’s not about me... it’s about you! And who knows... I could be dead tomorrow.”

The eerie laughter and crumbling of the portrait made Griffin cringe away, as though the words he was hearing was putting him back into the mindset he’d had, so long ago, when he didn’t understand Mark’s villainy, nor any of the supernatural forces pushing and pulling at both Griffin’s destiny, and everyone else that Mark surrounded himself with. Griffin hadn’t known, that night, that he was speaking the truth of his own future, through a plan he was acting out. He was always acting.

“Same snake... different skin.” Griffin found that these words didn’t come with a headache, and shut his eyes tightly to push away what he felt, in that moment. Because he would recognize that voice anywhere. That voice, that he’d first heard when they were roommates in a university, and again when they were both trying to make a career in public service. That voice, that belonged to his husband, who chose him to be the district attorney shortly after being elected as mayor.

Damien?

“Always spinning his yarns, his webs... his lies.” Griffin whirled to his left, finding that familiar figure, but instead of the peaceful and honest expression he was so used to seeing on Damien’s face, instead he saw an eerie smile, and Griffin’s eyes fought against the red and blue shift of Damien’s figure in front of him. When a duplicate appeared, like a shadow, with it came a sound that slammed against Griffin’s ears, the force of it almost knocking him sideways.

“I always thought that you were... t̵̮͊r̶̯͒ả̶̮p̴͚͠p̴̗̋e̶͚͐d̵̗͒ in his games.” The sounds continued, always accompanying some terrifying change in his appearance, like he wasn’t really supposed to exist in the three dimensional world.

“Perpetually p̷̙͑l̵̠̋u̵̻̾ṇ̷̋ḡ̴̲i̸̠̍n̸͎̈́g̸̓ͅ down the rabbit holes of his stories.” There was something about this that seemed familiar to Griffin, the way that Damien’s words echoed around him, and back, but deeper, darker.

I am, Griffin tried to say, but found that when he opened his mouth, no sound would come out, and Damien didn’t even react as though he’d tried.

“Helpless,” Damien said, and Griffin tried again, trying to say the same words, I am, I am trapped, but nothing would leave his throat, as though someone had flipped the ‘off’ switch on his voice box.

“Lost.” Damien’s words now seemed only to mock Griffin as he lifted one hand to his throat, and tried again, to force out any sound he could, but he just couldn’t.

“I̸̠͛ ̵̦̏k̵̪̉n̵̩͌o̷͈̐ẅ̷͇ ̴̠͛t̷́ͅȟ̴͕e̶͑ͅ ̴̢̇f̶͎̌e̷͚̊e̸͔͘l̴̝̃i̵̻͗n̴͚̊ḡ̶͍,” Damien growled, his glitching and shifting intensifying, hammering more pain through Griffin’s skull, worsening his feelings of helplessness, because he couldn’t cry out in pain, like the pain itself was shifting between dimensions, just like Damien’s form, just like Selene’s voice.

“Perhaps I̶̬͆'̴̹̉m̵̠̕ the crazy one,” Damien suggested, and finally Griffin realized where he had felt this particular pain before, where he had seen such shifting and glitching.

When Selene brought him to that... shadow realm.

“Perhaps we’ve met a hundred times already, and you simply don’t remember it.” Griffin gripped at his throat again, not moving and yet keeping pace with Damien as he walked, trying to just break through to him- this tortured being who he was once married to.

Damien, he tried to say, but he couldn’t make a sound, and Damien continued on, apathetic, indifferent.

“Perhaps you’re tired of me repeating myself, over, and over, and over, and over, a̸̡̓n̶̠͋d̶͓͌ ̸̭̀ō̵̪ṿ̸̊è̶̡r̷͋͜ ̵̱͗ă̸͕ğ̶̠ä̶̟́í̶̹n̵͚̑.” Every echo and screech and ringing in the massive and yet confining room felt like a needle into Griffin’s brain, and he gripped his throat tighter, his other hand trying to put pressure onto his head, as though it would help.

Damien, please-

“Maybe you just miss my pretty face.” Damien’s eyes went dark, and Griffin found himself on the verge of tears, the powerlessness of his position breaking him down. Damien was in pain- and he didn’t even talk as though he knew who Griffin was. Didn’t he?

“It doesn’t matter. People like you only want one thing.” A red shift beside Damien let out a scream, making Griffin flinch backward, his chest feeling so heavy.

Damien!

“And it’s disgusting.” Damien zipped around, his form reappearing closer to the table he now stood behind, and reached down to pick up a wine glass full of something that didn’t really look like water. “You want answers.” He looked down, losing that eerie smile, and Griffin wondered briefly what such a break in his expression could mean.

“Well,” Damien lifted the glass, and the higher he raised it, the more black the liquid inside became. “Games were always ẖ̷̎ḯ̸͜ș̴̈́ forte.” He paused to drink, and phased for a moment, his stance changing.

“But allow me this one moment of self indulgence.”

Damien, please, fucking hear me-

Griffin was thrown backwards, smacking his spine against the wooden back of a chair, and he realized he was sitting in front of the warden’s desk from the prison set. His vision shot around, trying to pick up any sort of clue, but then it landed on the box, in Damien’s hand. That damn box.

“So much trouble, all for something so small.” He phased into the warden’s chair, sitting across from Griffin, and looked down at the box.

Griffin tried to scream. But he couldn’t.

“Do you really want to know what’s inside this box?” And truthfully, Griffin couldn’t care less. He didn’t care for the silly little setpiece that Mark had conjured for his delusional, rabid fans. Maybe he would have been curious, once, but not with his tortured, lost husband in front of him. Not now.

“The truth. Not the lies he’s told you. The truth.” Griffin ground his teeth together, the hand on his throat still clutching on as though if he squeezed hard enough he could hit the ‘on’ switch of his own voice box.

“Well, I know how much you love good games, and all.” He shifted around, and Griffin’s eyes struggled to keep up with wherever he ended up, the movement throwing his headache against his temples.

“Throughout this... heist, I’ve hidden codes. Several codes.” The symbols blinking behind Damien made a cold realization sink into Griffin’s skin.

Damien wasn’t even talking to him.

“Find them all, and...”

Griffin wasn’t even there, to Damien. He was a vessel to speak to Mark’s audience.

“You’ll get your truth.”

Damien had no idea that he was so close to Griffin, so close, all of this was to talk to the audience, not Griffin. Did Damien even know that Griffin was alive?

“But that’s all I’m gonna give you.”

Out of the void surrounding Griffin came sounds, like the room around him was falling down, crashing to the floor. Rumbling, and Damien was fading away, his expression no longer angry, but fading into quiet sorrow.

No! Griffin tried to yell, and he tried to hold on, but whatever or whoever was pulling him out or pushing him away was too strong for him. Damien faded from his vision with screeching and rumbling and creaking...

And when he opened his eyes, he was on the steps of the museum, at the beginning of the ‘heist’ script.

“No,” He murmured, his voice hollow, and the triumph of hearing his voice again was trumped by Griffin’s soul-consuming anger, sadness, grief, that he’d seen Damien again, but didn’t get to speak with him, and now he was gone, and Griffin had no way back. He fell to his knees, letting the same word rise to a scream of anguish, of defeat, as he looked up at the colorful, happy windows of the closed museum.

Damien had called out, and he’d reached Griffin. And he hadn’t even known it.

Griffin’s resolve hardened, his heart hardened. Any fondness that he may have still been grasping on to for his old friend Mark was gone, and he vowed that he’d destroy Mark.

For what he’d done, for using Griffin to lure in Damien, for everything.

He was going to destroy Mark.

-🦌 Roe

thank u, @iiipeashy , for singlehandedly restoring my motivation to write, if only for an afternoon

#reader insert #y/n #damien x y/n #damien x reader #wkm #wkm damien #wkm y/n #wkm darkiplier #heist with markiplier #a hiest with markiplier #a heist with markiplier #heist darkiplier #heist damien #heist da #wkm da #who killed markiplier #angst #spoilers

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bellamyblakru · 4 years

Note

Heya, it's been a while, but I was wondering if you could turn your wonderful writing skills to another prompt for me? Could you do "I...I need to sit down" for Merthur please? Thanks ever so much 🥰 x

OF COURSE!! I love getting asks🥺id literally write anything you want me to💞thank you for this, hopefully i'm up to par—it's been a minute since i wrote (like a week lmfao i've been reading a lot)

Merlin looked at Arthur on the throne. He was still amazed how good he looked up there, how much he looked like he belonged. Arthur was glowing in the waning sunlight, giving him an ethereal glow. His hair was ablaze, blending with the crown on his head.

He was breathtaking.

Merlin stopped listening to the proceedings in favor of staring at Arthur’s profile for as long as possible. Many commoners came for an audience today, and Merlin was too exhausted to show interest. He has been working since dawn, for both Arthur and Gaius, and the boy was dead on his feet.

Arthur did not feel much better. He could feel Merlin’s eyes on him, but instead of getting angry with Merlin, Arthur actually felt content to let him stare—it was making him warm and fuzzy on the inside, but he didn’t know why, so he let him be. Knowing he had Merlin’s attention, the king straightened his back and tried to listen back to the farmers’ dispute at hand. He was apparently thinking about Merlin’s eyes on him for longer than he thought since the farmers were staring at him, waiting for his reasoning. Arthur blinked slowly, unsure, but Merlin quickly came to his ear and whispered, “Sire, the one on the left killed the right one’s sheep because it was on his farm unattended and was causing a ruckus.” Arthur nodded his thanks, looking more grateful at Merlin than he had all day, and Merlin blushed at the sudden attention from Arthur and bowed back to his spot behind the king.

Arthur started talking, but Merlin couldn’t focus on what he was saying—both tired and now feeling a little hot. Maybe I need to ask Gaius if I’m getting sick, Merlin wondered, getting slightly dizzy now.

“Is there anyone else?” Arthur looked at Lancelot and Leon. “One more, my lord,” Leon answered, as Lancelot was occupied with talking to Gwaine and looking at Arthur’s side together. Arthur frowned, why do they look so concerned? Arthur was about to look over to see what they were looking at, but the next citizen came in.

The minute the man came in, Merlin fell to his knees. Gwaine and Lance were by his side in an instant. Arthur looked over to where Merlin fell, jumping up from the throne, wanting to go over and check him himself. His knights were trying to help Merlin stand, so Arthur decided he could get this last audience done fast and go to Merlin after.

While stabilizing him, Merlin looked up at the newcomer. He felt nausea rush over him just from looking. “Gwaine, Lance,” Merlin groaned out quietly, trying to get them to go to Arthur instead, and once he got their attention he continued, “that man, something is wrong with that man.” Gwaine and Lance looked perplexed but believed him, so they leaned Merlin against the wall to see what was going on.

Arthur just started addressing him, “what may I help you with today?” The man bowed lowly, and in a deep voice said, “My lord, I actually wanted to bring something to you.” Arthur, surprised for a moment, masked his face quickly, “and what would that be?” The man stood up and pulled a small wooden box out of his robes, and he addressed Arthur once more. “My liege, this is a weapon of great power, but I am the only one able to wield its strength.”

“What kind of power?”

“The power to drown the magic out of people. Out of them where the filth cannot corrupt them for any longer,” he stated, indicating to the small box.

Arthur heard a gasp to his right and quickly looked. Lancelot looked horrified, while Gwaine looked absolutely livid. Merlin, on the other hand, looked like he was withering away on the wall behind them, staring with blank eyes towards the box--almost like he was drawn to it.

Arthur was not stupid, or blind. He knew Merlin kept secrets, deadly ones if he kept them from Arthur, so this realization did not quite have the same reaction the old Arthur would have had.

Merlin has magic.

Arthur was quiet for a moment longer, thoughtful. Every adventure, every single quest, every day, Merlin was at his side. Whether it was killing a monster, or cleaning his boots, or making his bed, Merlin never laid a hand on him.

Merlin believed in him and that was enough at the end of the day, wasn’t it? Arthur already had an inkling about magic not being the all evil power his father lectured him about. He wanted to find Morgana and make amends, so this was the path he needed to take to get her home. Magic couldn’t be evil if both Merlin and Morgana had it--they did not choose it either, especially since they both lived under Uther. No one would be foolish enough to use magic willingly with him around. Magic is a gift in the right hands, and a horrible tool in the wrong ones--just like any other tool in this world.

Arthur was about to make history--he could feel it deep within his bones. He could almost hear Destiny singing.

“I am sorry, but I have no need for a weapon like that in my kingdom.”

The man stumbled back, shock written all over his features at the power behind Arthur’s words, “are you not a Pendragon? You would rather magic roam freely in this world than end it once and for all?”

Arthur schooled his face into strength, ignoring his rising temper at the questioning man, “I may be a Pendragon, but I am not my father. I said no. Thank you for coming all this way, you may now take your leave.”

The man bristled at the dismissal, and just as Arthur was turning to Merlin, he drew a throwing knife out and spoke softly, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “if you are not with us against the powers of evil, then I must end this reign for the greater good.” He threw the knife before anyone could react.

It stopped inches from Arthur’s heart, and Arthur looked at it trying to figure out what just happened. The man gasped when the knife turned back towards him and landed in his leg. “Magic!” The man cried out, horrified that such use of blatant power was used on him.

Merlin stumbled over to the man, who was now on one knee, and spoke very clearly: “if you ever try to threaten the king again, I will not aim for the leg. Is that understood?” Merlin’s eyes shone like liquid gold. Lancelot and Gwaine, quickly behind Merlin, yelled at the guards to put the man in jail with the box he brought with him.

The guards listened, albeit hesitantly, looking towards Arthur for his approval. Arthur simply nodded, still staring at Merlin. It’s one thing to make the connection, but to see it so clearly use for him, in defense for him? It was astonishing. It felt oddly right if Arthur was being honest. Merlin was one of the bravest men he knew, and his power only amplified this feeling for Arthur. To live your life in constant fear, to feel so alone and scared of who you are, it is a wonder why Merlin stayed by his side for so long.

The second the man walked out, Lancelot and Gwaine went in front of Merlin protectively. Arthur ignored them and walked directly to Merlin, who whispered that he could handle this to his friends who looked reluctant to walk away (so they just moved to either side of Merlin, slightly behind him, just in case).

Arthur came close to Merlin, “how long?”

“My whole life,” Merlin responded quietly.

Arthur blanched, realizing how long Merlin lived in fear for his own life and from Arthur himself.

“Why?”

Such a simple question that could allude to many things, but each would have the same reply from Merlin.

“Because I love you.”

That was it. Arthur took a step back, heart beating fast, seeing how much Merlin meant it. He loved Arthur.

Merlin didn’t understand why Arthur wasn’t killing him, or saying anything, or why Arthur just kept staring at him.

But Merlin couldn’t wait for a response, “Arthur?”

Arthur was confused at the tone change, so he just said, “yes, Merlin?”

Merlin was delirious at this point, “if you don’t plan on putting me on the pyre, I think I might...that I....I need to sit down.”

Merlin passed out.

Lancelot and Gwaine caught him easily, looking at Arthur to see his reaction. Arthur was in motion already, picking Merlin up bridal style, and walking directly past them. With a small smile at his knights he asked, “are you guys coming? Or am I to tell Gaius myself what happened?” Arthur was masking his terror for Merlin by easing his knights’ concern for how he felt about Merlin, making it clear what side Arthur was on. Lancelot and Gwaine sighed in relief, accompanying Arthur.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

Tomorrow, Arthur was going to say I love you back.

#ashley writes #merthur #merthur drabble #sentence starters #THANK YOU FOR SENDING AN ASK #this was really fun to write #hopefully its okay :)#OOPs just realized that this like 1500 words lmfaoo not exactly a drabble #sorry for writing so much omg #i got excited

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

The Kind Of Cold (Jankie) - Juno

Just a quick one shot again based off a tumblr prompt. This one has a CW for references to homophobia, but there are no slurs. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: Jan and Jackie look for an escape from each of their office parties.

The only reason Jackie noticed her, the woman propping up the bar, was the cocktail dress she wore. Not the magnetic stare, not the coy smile, not even the song in Jackie’s ear that seemed to make her dancing slow down. It was the cocktail dress, in a sea of club wear, like what Jackie wore too. It was something they both had in common, something strange and otherworldly, something that told one another that they didn’t quite belong here.

They’d locked eyes like they were reenacting a bad romcom and as they came nearer, drawn by some strange force, the sound of the music faded away, and a path seemed to form in front of them both. Truthfully though, when Jackie had felt her chest flutter at the steady gaze, she didn’t care about anything else but finding out more about this woman.

“I’m Jan,” Jackie heard her say.

“Hi Jan. I’m. Jackie.”

“Jackie.” Jan rolled the name on her tongue as if testing it, the sound of it sending a shiver down the back of Jackie’s head, down her spine, down to her toes. “Jackie. Want to dance?”

“Sure.”

But Jackie could barely hear the music she was meant to dance to. Jan was intriguing, and Jackie wanted to know more. She followed her, vodka soda in hand, to a clearer spot away from the bar, away from the crowd of people, a tiny pocket of privacy.

“You look gorgeous.” The sincerity and slight awe in Jan’s voice was coupled with a faint edge of rum and maybe a little bit of rapture. The air was saccharine sweet, the scent of coconut and cinnamon and a heady perfume entwining them together.

Jackie knew she looked good. Her own office party dress flattered her slender figure. The royal blue was her colour; she refused to conform to wearing a black or red or silver dress just because it was a Christmas party and everyone else from the office would be. She smiled, hoping that most of her lipstick still remained intact too.

“Thank you. You look stunning.”

Everything about Jan was glorious. The purple shimmery dress fit her like a glove, and Jackie took in her figure now that they were close enough. Her lips were painted deep red, topped with glitter, that caught every illumination that the club passed over them. Her eyes were hazel, flecked with amber, and she searched Jackie with her gaze.

“Have you run away from your work party too?”

“Yes.”

“Too suffocating?”

Jackie couldn’t help the inhale, sniffing in a futile attempt to disguise it. Jan’s comment stung a little with its insight. She’d reached too far in now, extracted something that Jackie thought was better hidden, far better hidden than for a stranger to pluck it clean from her.

“How did you know?”

Jan answered with a bitter giggle. “Why do you think I’m here?”

They were both swaying gently, some semblance of a dance to at least blend in with the rest of the people in the club, not touching but united in their solitude.

“Let me take a wild guess. Lots of grown frat boys from Sales, trying to buy you a drink and thinking that ‘no thanks’ means that you definitely want one?” Jan muttered bitterly.

“Lots of the women in Finance telling you that you’re so pretty and asking why you don’t have a boyfriend even when you told them you don’t like men?” Jackie’s tone matched Jan’s, but they were both smiling sadly, recognising each other in their workplaces.

They were edging closer. Maybe it was subconscious, maybe it wasn’t; but Jackie felt her breathing speed up just a little, and if she listened hard enough she thought Jan’s did the same. As if Jan was enraptured in this moment too.

Inches apart, eyes still locked on each other, Jan tentatively raised her hand to Jackie’s forehead. Her touch was like electricity. Surprisingly cold, thin fingers against Jackie’s hairline, a tender touch to clear the stray hairs away from her face. It was so gentle and intimate that Jackie momentarily couldn’t speak. She opened her mouth to, but found her thoughts weren’t quite in a straight line.

“Are you nervous?”

Jan broke the silence, the static between them, with three words.

Pondering, thinking about things too much was Jackie’s forte. She could overthink every tiny thing that went wrong in her life. So much so that she couldn’t stop to take in the moments that made her life so right.

Like this one. Jan before her, stunning, calm, poised; in contrast to the gentle ghost of her fingers in Jackie’s hair, her touch feeling like too much but not enough already.

No, she wasn’t nervous. She was just overthinking.

“I … this is just not something I do very often.”

Jan said nothing, running a hand achingly slowly through Jackie’s hair. Her touch was tender, but all Jackie could think was that she wished to God she’d remembered to wash her hair more than two days ago, and that it wasn’t full of dry shampoo and hairspray to keep this elaborate shape.

She just couldn’t let herself go, let herself stop analysing it all.

“Escape isn’t always the answer.”

“No,” Jackie shook her head sadly.

“But it can be, this time, if you want.”

The words whispered hung in the sticky sweet air between them, mingling in the scent of rum and coconut, the heady perfume, the glittering lips. There was probably still music playing, but Jackie was hanging off Jan’s every syllable and didn’t hear a thing.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Jan came nearer and nearer as Jackie’s heart beat faster, until the distance between them was almost nothing. Jackie rested her forehead atop Jan’s, and it was as close as they got, until Jan’s warm body came flush with hers, her hands delicately resting on Jackie’s shoulders, Jackie taking hold of her waist in turn.

Where had this trust come from? Jan’s lips twitched into the smallest smile, their breathing falling into rhythm, a calm, content connection. Her eyes were wide, her pupils expanding, but they stayed as they were, swaying like trees in a breeze, not daring to break this hazy spell the alcohol and lights and music had wound them into.

Then someone nudged Jackie, in her back, and she turned to see who.

The sound of laughter, some guys running away from them, high-fiving as if they had achieved something. A few derogatory words burst their bubble.

The world flooding back in, the world both of them were just trying to momentarily forget.

Jackie felt her hands ball into fists in rage, but Jan had blanched, her hands shaking a little.

“Jan?”

“Let’s just get out of here,” Jan muttered, her face suddenly glassy, flat. She turned tail and marched for the door, and Jackie put down her half-empty glass and tore after her, grabbing her coat from the cloakroom.

Jan threaded a hand into Jackie’s, leading her into the New York night. It was almost midnight, the sky clear and twinkling with stars, but the bitter December air turning both their air to steam the moment it left their lungs. The dark sky was cold and unforgiving, but Jan’s hand in hers was warm and inviting.

“Assholes,” Jackie spat, as soon as they were far enough away.

“Why did I think that was a good place to go?” Jan muttered.

“What made you choose that club, anyway? Did you want to escape?” Jackie asked her.

“No,” Jan shook her head. “I wanted to connect.”

“To connect?” Jackie frowned.

“Yeah.” Jan cocked her head, surveying Jackie through her eyelashes, the hint of a smile on her face. “And I don’t think I’m the only one.”

They stopped in their tracks, Jackie a little perturbed by Jan’s words, and how familiar they felt. She searched her eyes again, the space between them narrowing, now alone with just the winter wind as their witness, the cold biting at their skin.

“I think you may be right,” Jackie murmured.

Jan sighed. “I like my workmates, but I spend forty hours a week with them, and I have almost nothing in common with most of them. And it feels so …”

“Constricting?” Jackie said quietly.

Jan nodded. “Sometimes. The Christmas party with them … I just wanted something different.”

Her soft voice was questioning, something unasked hanging in the air. Hoping she wasn’t alone in this feeling, needing validation that she wasn’t on her own. Jackie heard it, understood it in her very soul.

“It’s like being trapped,” Jackie nodded. “I mean, it isn’t, but sometimes you feel like you’re missing out.”

It was normality, security, but a quiet longing for adventure. It was life in a routine; but needing something different, something exhilarating. When Jackie had left the party tonight, maybe it was because she was tired of the same people, the same conversations, and the same assumptions about her life.

“I love finding other wanderers.” Jan winked at Jackie, before drawing her back to her body again. Jackie found herself in Jan’s embrace once more, putting a hand to Jan’s chin, to tilt it up towards her.

“I take it that means me?” Jackie whispered, a little amused at the sentiment. “I never really thought of myself as one. I’m not, like, lost or anything.”

“You don’t have to be lost to want to escape!”

And she pressed her lips to Jackie’s, a shadow of a kiss, nothing more - the gentlest touch that made her hairline tingle. Jackie felt her eyes flutter closed, her lips part in anticipation, but the next moment was slow to materialise.

She opened her eyes to see that Jan‘s questioning gaze on her again, this time a little more timid than she had been earlier, a thousand questions passing behind her eyes.

Well, Jackie could answer at least one of them. She closed the distance between them again, returning the kiss. Jan’s lips tasted vaguely of spiced rum and coconut, and her perfume was such a heavenly scent that Jackie wanted to pull her even closer and lose herself in it.

When Jan broke contact, her smile was so pure and sincere that Jackie felt herself unexpectedly fill with warmth. The chill in the air was not the kind of cold you fall in love to, but the company definitely was.

It was Jan who broke the silence. “You’re wearing all my glitter now.”

“Oh.” Jackie couldn’t help but giggle. She put a finger to her lips and it came away glittery, while Jan’s lips were almost matte. Jackie shrugged. “I guess it’s the season for glitter, right?”

“I booked a room at the hotel my work party is at,” Jan shrugged. “If you want to, you can come back with me. No pressure,” she continued, shaking her head, “but maybe we can continue this out of the cold.”

Jackie’s smile was effortless. “I’d like that.”

Tags: jackie cox, jan sport, lesbian au, fluff, mild h/c, one shot, tw homophobia references, office au, jankie, juno

#rpdr fanfiction #jackie cox #jan sport #jankie #lesbian au #fluff #mild hurt/comfort #office au #juno #tw homophobia references #s12

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