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rcksmith · 3 years

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Dream a little of me — Kaz Brekker

Resume: One bed and two hearts.

Requests :”Hello, darling! Could I request sleeping with kaz? Imagine or general headcanons, as you like. No nsfw (no need of touching tho, do what you like with it!), just sleeping in the same bed - maybe for the first time. Also bonus points if one of them will have a nightmare👀Have a good night/day, hun!🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️✨✨✨💗💗💗”

“My heart asks for all the angst of touch starved reader falling for Kaz Brekker... 😭😭😭 - 🐕‍🦺”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Grisha Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of post-traumatic stress, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3k.

A/N: Thank you💖 I hope you guys like.

Normal Rules.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake. Requests are open. Love you❤️

— — — — —

The rain was pouring down in torrents, in a fierce storm that roared into the shadowy forest like a hideous, unearthly animal. Platinum lightning’s streaked the midnight sky and thunder rumbled like as giants footsteps crashing into the ground and shaking the earth. Everything had been orchestrated to work. But nothing could have gone more wrong.

Unfortunately, not even Kaz Brekker's millions of tricks and plans could defeat the force of nature. And even you, an Infernal Entherealki, hadn't mastered the art of controlling fire or keeping warm while under a torrent of icy, biting cold water.

Your teeth started chattering, your lips turned purple, and you wondered if you could run another inch. Your muscles felt like stones and for someone who had lived with the heat of the flames his whole life, being under freezing water was extremely painful. But Kaz wouldn't let you stop. And you, as excruciating as the pain was, didn't want to stop either. The pain was strong but the desire not to let him down was more.

The two of you part of the plan that night was to go through the forest with the diamonds in pockets and find the rest of the Crows on the other side. You two would have to spend the night in that place. But all of Brekker's machinations were washed away by the treacherous and atrocious rain.

The only alternative was to run. Run to the direction where there was a small civilization and pray to find an inn or not die of hypothermia.

The angry drops of icy water were enough to steal Kaz's breath. Not because the cold was unbearable, but because his own demons, his past, were ghosts that gripped his ankles like monsters from horror stories. He didn't feel the rain, didn't feel the biting wind, Kaz just felt the sensation of the freezing, oppressive ocean drowning him. And for a second, when he looked at the small strip of fur on he wrist that wasn't hidden by his glove and coat, he swore he saw Jordie's dead skin in place of his.

He had to get out of there. But when the storm started, and Kaz run his eyes at you, your face wet from the rain, your skin constantly whipped by the cold droplets, and your cheeks extremely red from the cold, it made him gasp in a very different way. Blood pooled in your cheeks. Pulsing. Alive. He had to get you out of there.

Finding hiding places was one of his specialties, and he focused his mind entirely on it. When an inn came into view, a small relief rumbled in both of you. And Kaz looked in your direction to make sure you were okay. Alive.

As the receptionist gave the key from the last spare room to the two of you, Kaz couldn't help but feel that there was no longer any heat pulsing in your body. That made him feel miserable.

The night was cold. Unusually cool for the time of year.

"I don't think it's a good idea to carry out a robbery like that in these climatic temperatures." Inej said, walking down the stairs after Kaz "One of the Dregs caught a serious cold too while you were away."

Kaz had to be away for two days to sort out some matters of his own. Check some ship ports and finding out the weaknesses of some new merchants. And as much as he ordered his thoughts to focus solely on that purpose, he found himself daydreaming at certain times about…

"It got very serious after a few hours." Inej completed.

Kaz felt a trickle of worry trace his veins, tighten his throat But it wasn't for some bruteman of his Dregs. His source of concern was more serious, deeper, and for someone he didn't want to think about too much. Even though he told himself to keep every nerve in his body under control, in the end he was Kaz Brekker, he couldn't help but notice he picked up his pace to get faster to the live room that was strictly reserved for the Crows.

And when he walked in, following by Inej, the tree branches hit the windows, blown by the wind, tinkling. The cold was oppressive and biting, but not enough to stop Jesper from playing cards with Wylan, nor enough for Nina not to eat her candy and listen to Matthias tell of his people's legends. But the eyes of Kaz, that treacherous and treacherous organ, ran to you first. Magnetically, inevitably.

And he felt like he could breathe again.

The sight of you sitting on the black velvet sofa, with a book in your hands and your legs stretched out on the padded stool in front of you, calmed Kaz's heartbeat as nothing had ever done.

As much as he denies, in those two days his mind has swarmed over you more often than he thought wise. Brekker liked to justify that action with the fact that you were part of the gang. As close and important as Jesper or Inej. It was normal for him to be worried about the Dregs.

But why did he only see you? Why did the questions about your well-being and comfort stood out so much from any other concerns with others?

It was you. Always late at night, when Brekker was a sigh away from sleep. You were what someone he was thinking.

"Who is alive always appears." Nina announced he arrival and Kaz was pulled out of his reverie.

"Did you kill anyone these two days?" Jesper placed a letter on the table and Inej sat beside Nina.

Kaz left his hat on one of the dark marble tables. “Does it matter?"

There were other seats available in the room. A leather armchair next to the burning fireplace - Brekker were sure that you was controlling the temperature - an extra chair around the table where Jesper and Wylan were play, and a small divan beside Matthias. But Kaz sat beside you on the couch.

You marked the page with your finger, lowering the book gently. He didn't need to see the cover to know what it was. It was a romance clichéd eighteenth-century. He had given it to you before he left.

"Everything worked?" You smiled and Kaz had the feeling that he wanted to memorize that smile in a painting to always appreciate it.

"And doesn't always do?"

Even with the biting cold that wasn't stopped by the fireplace, Brekker could feel the heat from your body emanating, like a delicious temptation. You were always so hot. Bathed in the sun's rays. He didn't know if infernal grisha like you gave off so much heat too, because it was impossible for that to be human. Were so intense...delicious. Even with multiple layers of clothing, if Kaz approached you he could feel the warmth of a tropical pirate island.

Was that why he always unconsciously sat beside you? Why did you radiate so much causticity that it made Kaz forget about the ocean's cold? Why were you like a piece of life and Kaz felt dead for a long time?

Or was it because, heat or not, you were the only thing worth being around?

All the questions were too disturbing. And Kaz Brekker didn't want to know the answer.

Now, even climbing the stairs to the room beside you, Kaz couldn't feel anything radiating from you body. Just the cold. And he hated it with every force of his being.

You're not made to take the rain, felling deadly cold, or turn your lips a bluish hue.You were not made to be cold as a corpse, with muscles stiff and sore like a dead. You were not made to look like Jordie. You were meant to be alive. To look alive. Exhale the heat of the most ardent fire and heat a room just with your presence. You were meant to scare off Kaz's winter with your summer.

For a second, Kaz wanted to hug you to give you the warmth of his own body.

You felt exhausted. The remnants of what you once day were. Every inch of your body protested, aching and tearing at muscles. The cold, sharp water did you no good. You didn't know if it was were something of your species or a trait unique to you. But it didn't do any good to you. You hated looking so miserable in that appearance, especially in front of the one man you always wanted to look beautiful to. But at that moment you were in too much pain to worry so much about it.

As soon as Kaz had put the key in the doorknob, his gloved fingers stiff from the cold, what you expected to find was a cozy room, promising a heat shower and a good, well-deserved night's sleep. But that wasn't it. You stared at the wide double bed with white sheets, perplexed. Shock competed with your pain and put your brain to work, and all your breath lurked in throat as your realized the situation.

Oh my fucking God.

You didn't have to look at Kaz to feel his entire body be rigid, in a way far more potent than the effects the rain had caused. As if the prospect of sleeping next to you was more whorse than dying of hypothermia.

You closed your expression. Half because your mood was already bad and half because the rejection was brutal. You didn't expect your passionate feelings for Kaz to be returned, nor did you expect him to feel the same longing to be close to you as you felt for him. But no woman wanted to see that a man would rather die of hypothermia than share a bed with her. Even more if he was a man she was in love with.

You entered in room first, the pain in your body clouding your thoughts.

"Do you mind if I shower first?"

Your voice was weak, and you didn't have the heart to look at Kaz. He hissed a “no” that hung in the air, and that was the last thing you heard before closing yourself in the bathroom.

His heart was beating eerily fast in his chest. As loud as the thunder outside and as unsettling as the chill of rain. His breath began to burn heavily in his throat, and suddenly his entire body was fully aware of the situation.

One bed.

Even when he took the diamonds out of his pocket and placed them on a small table, even when you came out of the bathroom and he walked in, even as he basked in the hot water, his heart still pounded wildly. Like a generator.

Kaz Brekker liked puzzles, challenges. Of things he could unravel and understand. Piece by piece. He played to win and to cheat, and the world knelt at his feet before the insight of his mind. Still, he didn't know what to do. You were like a fascinating and maddening riddle. The one thing that, no matter how hard Kaz tried, could never unravel yours mysteries. Or maybe, just, what he would never be able to do was unravel what he felling whenever he was by your side.

His heartbeat grew stronger.

Brekker remembered every deck of cards, every card played. He could keep up with the distribution of up to five decks, unlock any lock, and devise the most insane plans. But he couldn't stop the way his soul trembled whenever he laid eyes on you.

In those moments, when you looked at Kaz like he was someone much better than he actually was, Kaz wanted to be good. He wanted to be born again to become a damn decent man. For you. He wished he didn't have his demons and erase his past. Because that way, when the sun's rays hit your face and you were close enough for your scent of happiness to flood his senses, Kaz wouldn't back down. He would lean down and seal his lips in yours with the promise of a glorious future.

His heart beat faster.

Why did he feel that his whole life was always suspended whenever he were away from you? And why did he have the feeling his life could change forever if he walked out that door?

Kaz turned off the shower. The heart running like a horse. He fished out the towel and wrapped it around his waist, finding a small hamper that held neat, folded pajamas for guests. He was surprised he didn't notice you in those pajamas. You made him lose focus.

As soon as he dressed and walked out of the bathroom, his eyes immediately went to your figure. Sitting on the bed, your legs under the covers, your hands clasped together in a cupped shape with a small, flare of fire burning in the center.

You looked up at Kaz. “I managed to do something to warm you up.”

The phrase was: No for warm me up. No for warm us up. For warm you up.

Kaz lost his breath and his soul trembled. The air felt different since he stepped out of the shower, not just from the recent gust of heat. But there was something else, something lyrical, pink and lush. Something...beautiful. He did not say anything. First because he didn't trust his own words and second because he didn't know what to say. He sat beside you, a considerable distance away, but this time his fear was that you would hear the loud, racing beat of his heart.

You turned gently towards him, reaching out your hands towards him, not noticing how his hands trembled as they stretched under the hot flame. Kaz swallowed hard.

He knew how weak and drained you were, but he also knew you were aware that he loathed cold. Hated icy water. You didn't know the depth of his traumas, but the fact that you cared to the point that you were willing to use your last shred of strength to end his torment was something that reverberated in his soul.

You two didn't say anything else after that. After Kaz removed his hands from the flame, you understood that as the end of your two interactions. You two shared a mutual answer that neither would sleep on the floor. You two were adults and in no condition to be lashed by any colder.

The night moon bathed the dark room with lights in distilled silver, almost flickering through the windswept tree branches. You were back-to-back, blankets pulled up to your shoulders, breathing gently quickened. As exhausted as you two were, neither of you could sleep.

Suddenly, the whole atmosphere in room seemed to change. Like a private, enchanted piece of the world. The wind howled softly, on a calm note. The rain was still falling in torrents, but now it seemed to be adopted in a passionate tone. As if it had fulfilled its purpose and now hovered in the world with a romantic veil of water. Stars shining bright above the bedroom window, glittering like hundreds of tiny diamonds, accompanied by moonlight. Although the light was dim, it seemed to capture the lyrical essence, seem to whisper “Dream a little dream of me.”

Everything felt different, like the two of you had entered a rift in the world. A part inhabited romance, pure magic, love.

Your soul shivered, and as much as you could never prove it, you felt that Kaz's soul shivered too. Your breath hitched, burning in lungs, your body seized by a caustic tingle that snaked through every inch.

You didn't know why, but your body shifted gently on the bed, turning slightly towards the ceiling. The racing pulse in your veins. A second felt like an eternity. Kaz's body moved too, and you knew, just knew, that he was looking at the ceiling too.

Two hearts beating in the same time. Synchronized. And, by some magic or deity, you two knew that your heartbeat would never again beat another way. Always connected.

Your body moved a little more, now on belly up. And Kaz's seemed to do the same move, even without seeing you or your movements. His chest rising and falling with intensity. The rain calmed outside, turning the symphony of droplets hitting the roof into mysterious, passionate music. As if the world were plotting a whispering favor for you two.

Kaz could feel your body heat radiating once more, grazing his skin with rays of sunlight. Everything in that bedroom became poignant and intense and lyrical, inflicting sensations on him that Kaz never thought existed before. Later, it would be a shock for him to see that he was at the mercy of his own passions. Overcome by sensations that robbed him of control of his body. Later he would think about it. Later.

His soul tingled, sending gusts of heat from the inside out. The feeling was that, after 28 years of deep sleep, he had awakened. Awake. Alive.

His body moved once more, now completely on belly up. Kaz didn't have to look at you to know that you too had placed yourself in the same position. It was as if he felt the movements of your soul. His pulse was racing now, hot and boiling in his blood. And Kaz wondered if all the money in the world would bring half the sensations he was feeling right now.

What was he so afraid all this time? That question echoed through all the corridors of his soul. And Brekker feared for the answer. What kept him from having everything he craved?

Money? Pekka? Jordie's ghost and the cold ocean? Kaz feared never touching you any more than he feared his demons? Was that why he always walked away from you? Why was wanting to slide his fingers into your hot skin and not being able to fell you, be worse than any sensation he'd ever felt? Because, maybe, admitting it can change everything?

His breath hitched.

Would it be worse to be alone for the rest of his life? Doomed and cursing to a fate of revenge, death and red hate? Or, even worse for his heart, finding a girl with lovely eyes, sunny smiles and the smell of happiness? A girl that made him laugh, come out of his hiding. You. What do he will do with that? What if you open up the door that he can't close it? And If when you hold he and his heart is set in motion?

Would that be so bad? No.

His body became very aware of the approximation it was on to your. Your heat radiating into his. For some reason, Kaz was sure you was in the same condition as he was. Sharing the same feelings. The same passion hidden for so long.

Kaz should have thought of his brother, of revenge against Pekka Rollins, of the cold of the ocean. He should have weighed of his own traumas. Instead, he thought: What if I get a little closer?

The result of this was his fingertips brushing yours. And he knew the exact moment your heart sped up even more. Because his followed the same beat. Maybe following yours for the rest of his life.

You brought your eyes to him, calmly, as if that moment might disintegrate. and the world seemed suspended in that moment. Kaz slid his eyes to you as well, sharing sensations and emotions that didn't need to be put into words. It was all there, in the gaze.

His fingers crept higher, going to your hand, and plunging his touch - and his soul - into that contact. All your heat was too strong. Too intense. Doing Kaz wouldn't be able to think or feel, for the first few minutes, about anything but light, heat, summer and…happiness.

That's when you gave him a shaky, emotional smile. I would do anything for you. That's what that smile said. And Kaz answered, his hand tight with yours before letting go. Me too.

- -

As the sun's rays, shy and buttery, flooded the bedroom in soft color, Kaz's eyelids fluttered. The sound of birds reached his ears, and the scent of flowers and happiness invaded his nose.

It was nothing like waking up in Ketterdam.

That thought back him to reality. A reality in which he had stolen many diamonds, taken the rain and had to share the calm. A reality where Kaz Brekker touched you.

You.

Kaz opened his eyes immediately, his heart racing again. He looked frantically around the room, past the simple furniture, the closed bathroom door, the window where the light came in, and then looked to his side on the bed. That's when he realized what position he was in.

His soul heated up.

You had your back to him, your hair spread out on the white pillow, your back showing by your pajama top, your shoulder rising and falling softly with your resonant breathing. You were close. Very close. And Kaz finds, perplexed, that he is facing you. One arm rests around your waist, over the thick blankets, in an intimate and…romantic gesture.

He lost his breath. His warm, hope-shining soul whispered to him: what if it was like this every day? What if he woke up with you by his side forever? What if in time he learned to be a decent man? Trying to be normal?

Would Kaz do this for you?

You shifted in bed, turning onto his side, front for him, snuggling deeper under his touch and moving closer, as if Kaz were your oasis in the desert. No skin was actually touching, your breath hit his warm chest, and if Kaz lowered his lips even further, he could feel your lips on his.

Yes. He would.

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kim-miyeon · 3 years

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ONE

Pairings: Lee Felix x Female Reader

Genre: VictorianAU!

WARNINGS: 18+, marriage, adultery, (Warnings vary on chapter.)

Word Count: 4.1K

m.list | prologue | two

London, 1963

The sound of the magazine pages flipping slowly and the static of the small radio playing “Sally Go ‘round the Roses” was all that could be made out in the moment as the two girls laid in the bed opposite each other.

“I’m bored Susan!” Margaret moaned and threw a pillow at Susan’s head as Susan turned and scoffed.

“Margaret quit it! You almost ruined my Beatles magazine!” Susan grabbed the pillow and threw it back to Margaret who huffed.

Susan returned to flipping through the magazine as Margaret began to stare at the ceiling, pondering on what activities the two teenage girls should do on their Tuesday afternoon.

It was the beginning of their winter festivities. School had been out for not only a few days but Margaret and Susan were inseparable. Having been best pals since birth, the two had spent many hours laughing and crying and being incredibly mischievous as well. Which brought Margaret to her brilliant idea.

“Let’s go to your grandmother’s library.” Margaret sat up quickly as Susan turned to her friend in disbelief.

“You must have gone mad.” Susan responded, in any manner but excited at the idea. “You know we are not allowed there.”

“And why not? Because it is your grandmother’s wing of the home? She will never know this house is so incredibly large, how would anyone know?” Margaret cocked her eyebrow and Susan bit her lip.

A more luxurious life of those in the upper class. That’s the world that Susan was born in. Born into a family that had wealth and status, Susan had been exposed to every part of luxury. She lived in a comfortable home and it was large enough to house many people, which her mother always utilized for their large gatherings. But she knew ever since she was young that her grandmother’s library was a place that she was not allowed in alone. Her grandmother cherished her collection of books and always wanted to preserve them. But as much as Susan wanted to say no, the seventeen years of curiosity of what lied behind the doors of her grandmother’s den could not hold her back. Especially being one who cherished books and fairytales, what could be behind those doors would lead Susan into a world she always dreamt of.

“Come on Susan, your mother is out and your grandmother is taking a nap, they won’t know!” Margaret persuaded and Susan groaned.

“Fine.” Susan threw her legs over the side of the bed as Margaret shot up

Susan and Margaret walked down the hallways of the large home, cocking their necks at every turn to be sure no no one knew of their whereabouts. The home felt so empty with each passing corridor, and the tall windows had their curtains drawn to keep the winter air away. The two girls turned the corner of the hallway to enter Susan’s grandmother’s wing of the home. Almost immediately could one see the large Kona dark wooden doors that led to a world unknown. Susan halted in her tracks and Margaret looked back as she had stepped ahead.

“Are you okay? Do you want to head back?” Margaret asked and Susan shook her head. Both girls could feel the error in their choices to be here.

“I am just nervous, my heart is pounding in my ears.” Susan laughed unconfidently and Margaret sighed, trying to stay with the plan.

“It is a library, not a death chamber.” Margaret grabbed on to Susan’s hand and pulled her friend towards the large dark stained wooden doors. As they approached the library, Margaret outstretched her hand to the door handle and pushed her hand down to open only to find a sturdy opposing force.

“It’s locked!” Margaret groaned and Susan looked at her friend who was upset about the failed mission. But then fear ran through her veins when she heard the sound of a far too familiar snicker behind her.

“Of course it’s locked, dear…” Susan and Margaret turned around to find the owner of the voice, “I wouldn’t leave my library open when I am not present. I may be old, but I am no fool.”

“Grandmother!” Susan exclaimed nervously to the elder woman, “I thought you were taking your afternoon nap!”

“The universe has a funny way of working, doesn’t it girls?” Susan’s grandmother spoke and walked further to the girls, holding keys in her hand.

“We weren’t meaning to be sneaky Grandmother, we were only curious.” Margaret spoke and Susan’s grandmother chuckled.

“I suppose young girls' curiosities get the best of them.” Margaret watched as Susan’s grandmother took the key to the library and inserted it into the lock. “I suppose it is time to share a bit of my world with you.”

Susan and Margaret watched as Susan’s grandmother pushed open the door, and the enchantment of how beautiful the library was struck the two girls. A scale so grand and modern. Books high up and two levels that overlooked below where a small dark wooden desk sat. Loose paper scattered across the desk with dull pencils nearby. Susan thought about the many days and almost nights her grandmother spent in her library and what on earth she must be studying.

The three ladies walked further into the library and Margaret gasped in awe.

“It’s so beautiful here.” Margaret sighed and Grandmother began to chuckle.

“It’s my life’s work in one place, a sacred thing. Something two mischievous girls should not be around.” Grandmother smiled at the girls who smiled back.

As the women slowly stepped further into the room, Susan’s gaze never retracted from the busy desk. Her eyes locked in on a very rubbish looking journal that sat open. Margaret and Grandmother carried on their conversation as Susan drifted off to the desk. She rounded the edges and dragged her fingertips along the dusty wood. Tilting her head to look at the journal clearly she saw a damaged old photograph of a young boy. Susan reached out to grab the small photograph and bring it closer to her eyes. He was standing not too far from the camera, it was hard to see the background but one thing that was clear was his smile. He had a beautiful almost breathtaking smile, it stole Susan’s breath for a mere minute. His hair, laying across his face, made it unable to see his eyes. But Susan could tell he was a gorgeous man.

“Grandmother,” Susan called out and looked at the photo one last time before she turned her attention to Margaret and her Grandmother, “who is this boy?”

“Oh.” Grandmother’s voice hinted of sadness when she saw the photo, “his name is Felix. A young lad from many years ago.”

Grandmother walked closer to Susan and Susan looked down at the journal that had been opened.

“Was he your friend?” Susan asked as she scanned over the words that were written in the journal.

Grandmother stood next to Susan and she sighed as Susan looked back at her grandmother.

“He was not.”

“Then why do you have a photo of this boy? Who’s journal is this?” Susan carried on in her curious mind as her Grandmother began to sigh as Margaret walked over to Susan to look at the photo of the boy.

“Inviting you into this room comes with the responsibility of telling you stories of years far before you.”

“A love story?” Margaret asked simply and Susan looked at the journal that was lying on the desk. Tracing her fingers over it.

“The journal belonged to a young maiden, who lived in this very home years ago.”

“Tell us about her.” Susan reached over her grandmother’s hand and her grandmother sat in the chair at the desk as the two other girls sat on the floor staring up at Grandmother.

London, 1898

The streaks of the sun splashed on the skin, as you laughed. Picking your feet up and trying not to tumble in the large field as you two ran. Your vision, covered in the hues of green and yellow, matching the weeds on the ground and as you look down you saw a hand in yours. Gripping you in the most odd mixture of gentle and security, wanting you to be free and yet holding you near. His hand was the softest, skin almost an illusion for there were no imperfections. At the edge of his wrists sat the ruffles of his shirt, white and stained with dirt and sweat. You trailed your glass beaded eyes up the clothes arm that is pulling you into the fields. Once you came to the collar of his neck you admired the length of his blonde locks as they rested near his shoulder, blowing softly in the air. You heard his faint deep chuckle and he turned softly to the side to take a glimpse of you. You saw his eyes connect with yours, feeling the intense spark fuel you and almost stole your breath. If this was love, you never wanted anything less.

If this.. was..

The deep rich smell of smoke ran through your nostrils as you fluttered your eyes open to the small lit candle resting on your night stand. The sharp light of the morning sun struck the room as Adelaide, your maiden, drew the curtains for you.

“Good morning Milady” Adelaide spoke cheerfully as she pulled in the window to lock. You peeped at her and smiled as you rose up and yawned.

Your day typically always began at 7:30am. Adelaide was no stranger to being on time, especially during weeks like this.

“Good morning Adelaide. How did you rest?” You asked as Adelaide grabbed a pitcher of water and walked over to your bedside where a large bowl had been placed. Rosemary leaves had been placed at the bottom and you watched Adelaide pour the hot water over, feeling the steam hit your face and sighed in pleasure.

“I rested well, thank you. Did you sleep well with everything going on?”

Adelaide walked behind you and went to grab the toothbrush and can of homemade soap and sat it down near the bathing rack.

“I tried at least.” You mumbled as you watched Adelaide keep moving to finish her morning duties.

“It isn’t an easy week I suppose. I will go and fetch your cup of tea this morning while I let you freshen up on your own.” Adelaide smiled at you as she made her way out your door and you went back to freshen up.

You grabbed the towel and soaked in it the water as you felt the warmth of the water relax you. Squeezing the excess water off the towel, you pulled the sleeve of your undergarment and wiped the skin.

Adelaide’s reminder of what this week meant for you was excruciating. For the past five years you had known this day would eventually come, but you had always hoped that if you had believed hard enough, it would never come. Time could pause and you could live happily.

You grabbed your hair and bent down to lay it in the water as you coated your hair in the warm liquid. You heard Adelaide’s footsteps approaching the door and you squeezed the water off your hair.

“Your mother is awake.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance “Lovely. How does she seem?”

“Refreshed.” Adelaide shook her head in a sad way to you.

You turned to her quickly, “Is it too late to run away? You wouldn’t say anything, would you?”

“You know I wouldn’t.” Adelaide grabbed your hands, squeezing them.

“Where to run is the issue.” You sighed and looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Would you run to the states?”

“It would be fun. Imagine working and making my own money. Choosing my own life. Anything would be a more rewarding life than this. To be brought up to wed and bear children? To have a mind for everyone else besides your own?” You went on as you fumbled with your fingers as Adelaide began to help you stand to dress. Slipping your garments off as she helped you step into your gown.

“It’s the idea of feeling free, to do what I want, not what others want of me.” You continued as Adelaide turned you around and pulled the strings of your corset.

“To bear a day where I dress myself” You mumbled to yourself and Adelaide puked in the strings tighter making you yelp as she laughed.

“Are you stating that you do not want me to dress you?” She smiled and you sighed as she finished.

“It is your job to do so, but you were created for more do you not think?” You turned around to face Adelaide and she shrugged a bit.

“I suppose. I enjoy my job and I have a place to sleep and eat.” She softly said and you bit your lip in agreement.

“I will head down while I give you time to awake.” She smiled and began to head for the door.

“Thank you Adelaide.” You smiled as you turned to the mirror.

“My lady” you heard Adelaide call out one more time.

“Yes? “

“I know this is a difficult week and things may not be the way you want them to, but know that I will always be by your side, as you are for me.”

With that Adelaide left you to be alone in the room. Her words made you sad and yet filled with content. Marriage wasn’t a plan you had set yourself up for. It wasn’t something you wanted. You craved the feeling of being loved by someone not because of status and wealth, but because they say you and all your flaws. But you held a responsibility as the eldest, as your father’s daughter, to do what is necessary for the family and for your country.

But your mind drifted back to your dream. The boy. A man so unfamiliar but you felt as if you’d known him for years. Your heart ached feeling like you had fallen for an image of a man, created by your mind. But it felt real, he felt so real to you.

A knock at the door brought you back to reality as you cleared your throat. “Come in!”

“Milady, your mother is requesting you for breakfast.” Adelaide peeked in as you looked at her and nodded in understanding.

As the door shut you turned to the mirror and took a deep breath in.

“Be strong, Y/N.”

The halls of the home were long and made one weary as they strolled down. Your heart panicked with the unwanted anticipation that waited beyond the doors to the dining room. You could smell the aroma of the feast that called for you, already knowing that your mother has planned a rather larger gathering than you were expecting. Closer and closer as you approached you heard the laughter of people you knew the sounds of and once you reached the door that was guarded by your family's security men, you saw the faces of those you wished to not see.

“OH! My darling! The bride to be, you look marvelous this morning! Just GLOWING!” Your mother exclaimed and wrapped her arms around you squeezing you tightly in a hug.

“Good..morning.. mama..” you tried to choked out as you were wrapped in her tight embrace. She pulled back and tidied up your dress and hair.

“Beautiful as ever.” She smiled and you half smiled back before you noticed your father and your future in laws chatting a bit behind.

“Father, Sir Thomas and Mrs. Thomas, what a lovely surprise. I was not aware you would be joining us this morning.” You courtesy politely to them.

“Oh dear please, call me Lois.” Mrs. Thomas outstretched her hand to you, waving to tell you to stop your courtesy. You lifted your gaze to your future in laws and then to your father who was smiling at you in a sense of pride.

“I wasn’t aware you’d be back to join us this week, sir.” You quaked our to your father who smiled.

“I couldn’t miss my daughter’s wedding. Sir Thomas and I came back for the engagement ball tonight and the ceremony this weekend.” Your father spoke as he turned to his elder and you smiled softly in understanding.

This marriage wasn’t for you. It was for them. To raise your father’s rank by providing a woman to wed the son of the Field Marshall. An eligible bachelor that many women would have died for and yet you have known him your whole life. This arrangement has been in motion your whole life.

“Is Gregory here?” You asked in more of a trembling tone. Mrs. Thomas chuckled a bit.

“Oh she’s nervous. Yes dear, he should be back soon.”

You mentally rolled your eyes as you had a keen feeling where your loving fiancé could be. You smiled and pulled a chair from the dining room table.

“Please sit, Lois.” You offered as Mrs. Thomas sat.

You walked over to your mother where you reached out to grab a chair and one of the servant lads grabbed it before you.

“Here, Milady.” The man said and you looked at him and smiled.

“Thank you James.” You whispered as he smiled softly to you, his dark hair falling towards his face. Sitting down you watched as the servant lads went to through the kitchen doors to grab the meal for the morning.

You knew it wasn’t normal for the young lady in the house to know the names of all you served, but you did. You never looked at the workers as being below you, they were people who deserved respect. So you treated them as such, like a friend. Like Adelaide, who is only a ladies maid but she is your closest friend.

You heard the sound of a child laughing running to the dining room as you saw your mother exhale frustratingly. Soon the young girl ran into the dining room, hair a mess and her dress not tightened. Barely had her shoe in her foot with a stocking while the other foot was bare. You giggled to yourself as the young girl ran past your mother who tried to fetch her and you heard Adelaide’s voice from afar.

“Clarissa!”

Clarissa halted in front of you and you smiled at her, “Good morning y/n!”

You embraced your young sister and kissed the top of her head as she pulled back and you noticed Adelaide had entered the kitchen standing next to your mother who was fuming.

“Now Clarissa, what did I tell you about your morning routine?” You started and Clarissa sighed and looked down at her feet.

“To respect Ms. Adelaide’s request and help.” Clarissa mumbled and you smiled gracefully.

“That is correct, now run along back to your room to finish your routine so that way you can join us for breakfast.” You ruffled her hair a bit as she looked up at you in admiration, smiling before turning back to Adelaide and retreating to her room.

“AND she’s good with children, oh dear, imagine.” Ms Thomas exclaimed to her husband implying a future where you would bear her grandchildren. You smiled most uncomfortably at the thought.

“Oh Gregory is here!” Your head snapped to the left side of the room as you spotted the man who you had to wed in a weeks time. His skin was flushed but glowed at the same time as you noticed his hair was a tad bit ruffed up. He wore his military uniform and presented himself in a poised matter. He was attractive, you could not betray that your eyes enjoyed the sight of him. But his heart was not as beautiful. You knew where his intentions were and were completely aware that they had been four inches deep in another woman just now.

“I hope I am not late,” Gregory began as he turned to you and played his act most perfectly, “how honored am I to have the most beautiful fiancé,”

Gregory spoke as he walked towards you and you stood from your chair to greet the man as he rushed quickly. “No need to stand my love, you have all waited long enough,” he turned his attention to a servant lad, “Boy! Bring us the food at once!”

Gregory sat next to you as you watched him. The smell of sweat and perfume reeked off his hair and neck and it made you boil with disgust. He looked at you for a moment and smiled. His orbs shined a sinful mixture of blue and grey as his dark strands of hair laid on his head miraculously well. He was a painted god, a devil in disguise as you knew.

“You look beautiful.” He whispered close before placing a burning kiss to your cheek and you smiled at him.

The background noise of your elders conversing and the aromas of the food being brought out caught your attention. You took hold of the glass of water that sat across you as you took a sip from it. You felt the presence of a servant lad behind you as he placed your plate in front of you. You swallowed the water as you looked up to the boy and smiled.

“Thank you Langston. Do you mind grabbing a simpler plate for Clarissa as well? Oh! And some juice instead of tea?” You requested and the servant lad smiled and nodded.

“Will do Milady.” He said as he retreated back to the kitchen.

You looked down at the plate, loaded with eggs, beans, ham, bacon, fish, and bread. There were sweeter treats placed in the middle of the table for all to share. This was typical, this meal was typical. You knew that there were less fortunate people in the country and you were living in a world full of the rich and selfish.

That’s why you cared for the workers here. You saw the world differently than your family. You didn’t want life to be handed to you but rather felt pride when you worked hard for the things you wanted. That’s why this marriage was something you loathed. Gregory’s status and your father’s would blossom. More money, more luxurious parties, more of everything. The price to pay was your hand. You knew it wasn’t uncommon for some women to wed a man they do not love. But you wanted to fall in love. Something Gregory could not provide you.

You came from your thoughts when you heard the sound of Clarissa’s heeled shoes running towards the room once more. She was in a much better state than before and she hurried next to you as you and a servant lad helped her into her seat.

“Thank you Harry, but I can handle it from here!” Clarissa stated as a matter of fact and you giggled looking up at Harry who laughed a bit.

“I can’t believe you all started eating without me!” Clarissa exclaimed at you crossing her arms.

“I had to request that the kitchen make you something special! I haven’t started eating quite yet.” You leaned to her and she smiled as she rolled her eyes. Before the both of you knew it, you saw a small hand with a plate of food placed in front of Clarissa with a side of freshly squeezed orange juice.

“Here you are milady.”

The voice of the lad hit a nerve in you that rushed your blood cold and skin so hot.. It was a deep, husky, charming voice. Something that could scare you but in a stranger way made you feel safe. Clarissa smiled at the boy and you took the opportunity to look up at him to thank him. But your eyes were met in a sudden pause to reality.

Hair a soft pale blonde, skin soft to the look and to be more when touched. All you could see was the side of his face as he retreated away. Much like the dream this morning. Much like the boy you saw in your mind.

Your heart beat was pounding in your ears as you fell completely in awe as the boy retreated back into the kitchen. You didn’t know him and you knew everyone in this home. Was he real? Was that the boy? Is your mind playing tricks on you? All you knew was that your body felt on fire, but your heart was aching. Who was that boy?

“Y/N!”

Your mind snapped back to where you were again, and all eyes on the table were on you. You looked at your mother who had called your name.

“Y-Yes?”

“Love, are you alright? You look like you have seen a ghost?” Your mother exclaimed and you inhaled deeply to yourself remembering what you just witnessed and felt and you thought to yourself.

I might have just did.

Taglist: @exonations @sunshine-lixie @beaann @yumi-xox

Author’s Note: Hello everyone, after a much needed hiatus I have returned with my second series! I know I am posting on a Friday but I will be posting on Thursdays as usual! Also THANK YOU for 400+ Followers!!! I am genuinely shocked by the love I have received from all of you! I am so excited for our new journey together and I can't wait to read your responses!! With love- KMY

UPDATE: Postings will now be on Fridays due to my schedule now! Thank you❤️

#lee felix #victorian au #lee felix imagines #lee felix smut #felix x you #lee felix scenarios #lee felix fanfic #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #stray kids lee felix #lee yongbok #felix x female reader #original character #skz Felix #everlasting series

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mrspanky · 3 years

Note

I'm not really sure how long these are meant to be. "Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma".

Trauma Bonding, (a Jason Todd x Reader)

Warnings: Language.

Genre: Fluff/angst/comedy/romance

Authors note: This prompt is perfect, thank you @aethers-stuff ! Sorry it took me so long to write! I hope you like it. ♡(: _______________________________________________

Dick watched you two from the kitchen.

Jason was seated on one end of his livingroom couch and you on the other. You were talking loudly, gesturing with your hands so much that you looked like Italians at a family gathering. You were both exceptionally expressive and extroverted people on your own, so when you got together, the room's volume was always raised a noticeable few notches.

It was endearing, but a real headache when it went on for too long.

Dick massaged his temple. An extrovert himself, he felt the need to jump into the conversation, but he knew better. You and Jason would simply not shut up long enough for him to get a word in when you were both really on a roll, and Dick didn't feel like expelling that much energy. Plus, he was curious to see where this would end.

“...That’s ridiculous Jason”.

You crossed your arms.

“There is no way in hell you're dying your white streak black.”

He raised his hand from the couch armrest in exasperation.

“I wasn't even asking you.”

You arched an eyebrow.

“You should've been. The white streak stays. It's your trademark. If you're concerned about me being right, I dare you to ask everyone to vote.”

“Hon, I am not in the practice of asking people if I can or can't do things.”

“Luckily, you never ask me my opinion so you don't have to worry about breaking your pattern just yet.”

“...You never keep it to yourself, so why would I even bother”.

Dick shook his head. You were like an old, emotionally constipated couple and it was amusing to observe.

“Just kiss already”, he said under his breath.

You turned your head towards the kitchen, hearing him faintly, but almost unintelligibly.

“Dick, did you say something? Sorry, we're arguing here, I hope we're not too obnoxious”.

“Hey don’t throw me under the bus with you, I was just trying to have a moment of quiet meaningless thought when you started playing hair cop,” Jason quipped.

“Hush.”

“Right back at you”.

“-Both of you shut up for a minute. I didn't say anything”.

Dick rolled his eyes.

“However, we do have patrol in an hour, and Bruce sent me some weird instructions.”

“Weird how?”

You tilted your head in curiosity.

Jason glanced at you, and huffed a little. He couldn't help himself. Despite himself, he found you really endearing. Especially in moments like this when your lips were pouted in confusion and....”.

Dick snapped Jason out of his brain fog.

“Jay. Buddy. Try to pay attention.”

“Wasn't not doing that,” he grumbled.

“Then what did I just say.”

The two brothers shared a childish battle of glares.

“...fine, you made your point. I was dreaming about this whisky I saw in the manor the other day”, he lied.

“Ok. Very in character, Jason. Now, the mission is-”

“...looked decadent. It was really old and had this fancy label on it that-”

“...Guys. I can hear you from the other room”, Tim walked in looking miffed.

There was a pause as all three of the human boom-boxes stared blankly at the intruder.

“...you’re a detective, Tim”, Jason deadpanned.

“Ugh, Jason...that’s not the... just shut up.”

Tim pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Did you all get the mission briefing?”

“Somehow, Jason didn't”, Dick fumed.

“Alright, fine. Basically, Jason, you, and Y/n are staying back tonight because you're the only ones who haven't been seen yet in the city, and Bruce wants to save you guys for an undercover mission next week”.

“What?!”

You both looked at each other in disgust.

“I'm not working for the bat anymore!”

“Yeah, and I've never even started to work for him! He can't just expect us to be at his disposal and then bench us!”

“Guys, relax. He's just doing this so you can have a better element of surprise later. You're both really valuable, ” Dick reasoned.

You and Jason paused, your egos begrudgingly satisfied.

“...fine”.

“Fine”.

“Good. Ok. So everyone suit up”, the oldest brother concluded.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason was irritated.

He found you interesting. Really interesting. Usually, he dealt with his fear of vulnerability by acting too unbothered to care, but you intrigued him so much that he struggled to keep his mouth shut around you. He was afraid to get too close to you; he would lose you eventually like everyone else.

But, he knew so little about you, despite all of the banter. A talent you both possessed, was chattering without disclosing any actual information. You had only met each other two months ago, and usually it would take both of you longer to warm up to a new person, but there was just a feeling. You were kindred spirits. He wanted to learn more about you, despite himself.

“So what brought you here”.

“Here as in what brought me to dress up and punch criminals as a nightly routine, or as in what brought me to be in an alliance with Bruce Wayne that I'm now regretting?”

There it was. Those were the kind of responses that made Jason feel just enough on his toes to be uncharacteristically comfortable with you.

“Take your pick I guess.”

“Bruce Wayne it is then. I'm not really a fan of my life story”.

“Ttt, ” Jason laughed, taking a page from his youngest brother’s book.

“I'm kind of an accidental friend of Dick’s. We met first at the Bludhaven police station, I was there for...pfft...I was just there, ” You paused with a laugh.

“He helped me out, and we didn't see each other again until he ended up working with me anonymously for info on a case as Nightwing years later. We both just figured out each other's identities and he brought me on a mission once where I met Bruce. And Bruce is a convincing prick so now here I am, somehow under his command”.

“Sounds about right. So when do we kiss?”

Great. Now he sounded like an asshole.

Jason looked at you, gauging to see what your reaction would be. He’d half said that last part by accident, but now that he’d acted out of impulse he knew he couldn’t take it back.

“-What?”

“When do we kiss? You heard Dick”.

He was really committing to his blunder now.

“Yes, and I ignored him and smoothly got him to change the subject. Besides. You're not my type”, you lied.

Jason was in fact, exactly your type.

“What is your type?”

“Shit”, you thought.

“Hmm. I like people who I can chase that don't actually like me, and then I eventually get to give up. It makes it easier”.

You admitted this in a tongue-in-cheek manner, but you weren't really kidding. Something about Jason’s persistence made you want to open up, despite your usual habitual wall-building.

“You're like a fucking mirror; you know that?” Jason laughed.

He knew you weren’t kidding because he’d said things along those lines millions of times.

“Your point, Mr. Therapist? People hurt people. I kind of prefer to enjoy relationships from a distance at best”.

“Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma”.

“Call it what you will, but it's a good way of not getting even more mentally busted up than an already fucked vigilante”, you grinned.

“Nice.” he smirked.

“You sound as dumb as me”.

“That’s a little low don’t you think? I’m only half as dumb as you at most, but yeah. Fine. We share some things”.

“What’s that supposed to mean Princess,” he smiled.

He felt himself get exited a little. What you had just said made it sound like you felt you two were similar just as he did.

“That I think we’re both stupid people that have really stubborn hearts that get us into trouble”.

Your heart was beating so fast. You hadn’t meant to say that much.

“Now who’s the therapist”, he said in a low voice.

He leaned in closer to you a little, testing the waters to see if you were just being a little cautious, or if you actually weren’t comfortable. He felt like you were just being scared like he always was deep down, but he didn’t want to push you if it was only going to cause you both more pain.

He was a little scared too. You scared him. Not just because you were powerful and beautiful, but because he actually liked you. He wasn’t used to that. But he knew himself, and when Jason Todd does something, he can’t do it half way. If you were in this too, he knew he’d do anything for you, and that was terrifyingly vulnerable.

As he leaned in, your breath caught.

“Fuck”, you thought.

His eyes were stunning.

You hadn’t let yourself notice how much until now.

“Jason…”

“...Todd why are you about to taint Y/n”.

Jason spun around.

“Damian!” you yelled.

The small Wayne was standing in the doorway.

“Shortstack, you are too young to be using a fancy word like taint”, Jason recovered.

Tim and Dick emerged behind Damian in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked.

“Todd was just about to be disgusting with Y/n in front of all of us”, Damian smirked, crossing his arms.

He knew he just set up Dick to take a fit.

The oldest brother was not pleased.

“Jason, really? Damian is right here and you didn’t think to chill?”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“We didn’t do anything Dicky. The kid here is being a drama queen. The only thing he walked in on us doing was some good old fashioned arguing”.

Jason knew he was making himself look like a major...well...dick, but he knew you wouldn’t want to commit to the family knowing about anything that might be going on between you two, however small just yet.

Dick rolled his eyes, and the three brothers walked in the doorway and into the kitchen to get water. You and Jason were always an entertaining spectacle for sure, but patrol was tiring, and they all needed to cool down.

Jason looked back to you. You were looking at your feet with your arms crossed and a barely contained smile on your face.

“The kid has good timing,” he huffed with a laugh.

“Oh fantastic”, you gazed at him, laughing back quietly.

“So, you want to talk some more about trauma?” He asked in a playful, but matter of fact tone.

“Maybe sometime, Red,” you smiled.

You turned and walked away.

“She’s gonna make me work for this”, he thought.

It had been so long since either of you had met your match, and you both were going to thoroughly enjoy this.

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Good Omens one-shot “At the End” (Rated PG)

Summary: When the angels and demons finally succeed in having their war, there's only one thing that Aziraphale and Crowley can do with the time Earth has left...

Say goodbye to their home. (1408 words)

Notes: I wrote this hoping I would be accepted into a zine that ended up being canceled. The theme was basically what happens after Armageddon.

Read on AO3.

"Wot do you think you'll miss most about Earth?"

"Really, my dear?" Aziraphale clicks his tongue in disgust, but he can't bring himself to look away from the chaos ensuing below them to berate his companion properly. "What a question to ask at a time like this!"

"I think this is the perfect time to ask that question," Crowley says, but without his teasing edge. He offers it sympathetically. They both have a similar connection to this planet, had an investment in it thriving, but Crowley feels Aziraphale's heart breaking more than his. "When you lose something, you mourn it."

"It's not entirely lost! N-not yet." Aziraphale chokes around the words. Even though they leave his mouth passionately, he knows he has sinned by saying them.

Not lost yet may be the biggest lie he's ever told.

The first few hours had been soul-crushing.

The moment Holy rays broke through the clouds and shone down from above, ethereal voices announcing the arrival of God's angelic army, a flock of the faithful came out in droves to greet them. They prayed, sang joyously, raised their voices to the Heavens, invoked every one of God's Holy monickers. It should have been a huge stroke to Her ego... if She had been paying attention.

From Aziraphale and Crowley's perch atop St. Paul's Cathedral, that doesn't appear to be the case.

Those God-fearing mortals were the first to get trodden underfoot as angels barreled over them to confront their enemy - an extremely vulgar and unnecessary display when one considers that angelic footsoldiers can fly.

Hordes of evil-doers emerged from hiding as well, in lesser, but equally exuberant, numbers. They seemed suspiciously more eager for the fight, proving that those who call themselves 'Christian' might outnumber worshippers of Lucifer, but demons had their zealots better prepared for what the end of times would actually entail.

Either way, it didn't matter.

Those humans willing to spill blood at the drop of a hat, even their own, were used as cannon fodder against a foe they couldn't possibly hope to defeat. Within seconds, thousands lay dead on the streets of London and, Aziraphale suspected, all over the world.

For their part, Aziraphale and Crowley refused to join the battle, but no one paid them a lick of attention. An angel cavorting with a demon was no longer an issue. They could finally do as they pleased without fear of retribution, albeit on a planet whose hours were numbered.

"I would have to say I'm going to miss my car," Crowley continues, provoking conversation in an effort to allay his angel's anxiety. "And my flat. And alcohol. Hell's bells am I going to miss alcohol."

"Pity we don't have some now. I think a hull full would find itself useful," Aziraphale adds in a weak attempt at humor.

"Wot about you? Will you miss the food? Your bookshop?"

Aziraphale sighs. "Humanity."

Crowley raises a brow. "Humanity?"

"Yes. Without humanity, the rest of it wouldn't have been possible." Aziraphale scans the carnage below, trying not to focus for too long on any one thing... or any one person. He's already seen too many faces he recognizes, twisted from agony. "Without humanity, it wouldn't have meant anything."

"I suppose."

A tortured voice rings out, but it's snuffed out quickly. Aziraphale doesn't know which side does it, but he shakes his head in shame all the same. “I thought She’d show them mercy. I thought that, in the end, She’d come through. Spare them. That She wouldn't allow them to suffer as bystanders in all of this.”

“I hate to be the one to say I told you so, but… ”

“Then don’t, my dear.” Aziraphale reaches out and takes Crowley's hand, pleading wordlessly for him to stop, but also needing him for comfort. “Where is She? Where has She gone? Why has She abandoned them?”

"You've been asking that question for generations. I would think, by now, you'd know the answer."

"But I don't. Perhaps I should... " Aziraphale swallows heavily, his attention pulled to the skies by a streak of gold, then one of violet, passing overhead. "They know," he spits bitterly. Crowley follows his angel's gaze to the trails above them, one which he assumes must be Gabriel's. "She's obviously told them."

"Perhaps not," Crowley says, not in an attempt to defend Her, but to soothe his angel. "Just like last time, they're doing wot they think is right. Following wot they believe."

"And what do they believe? I don't know! They've never told me!"

"You'd think you'd all be on the same page. I mean, there's a book about it and all."

Aziraphale scoffs at that. "I think you and I both know that the archangels, Gabriel in particular, have never held any stock in books. Books are primitive, human things. They have nothing to do with angels. Not even the Bible... " A host more gold streaks zip by, and Aziraphale's words trail off into nothingness. Of all the books in Aziraphale's collection, his Bibles have always been his favorites. And not just the misprinted ones. The words inside gave him comfort, especially during those long stretches when he didn't hear from God at all. Though written by man, they were imparted by Her (if he overlooked the dodgy editing).

But they're gone. Not a single one remains, not even in the church where they stand, its insides crackling, burning beneath their feet.

Earth had become Aziraphale's Eden. Now, so many things he held dear are disappearing before his eyes.

Crowley squeezes the hand holding his. "Come, my love. It’s time to leave the garden.”

Aziraphale's eyes snap his way. They linger on his face for a moment, then drop to their clasped hands. “6000 years on this planet and you choose today of all days to call me your love?”

“I'm sorry." Crowley inches closer, lifts Aziraphale's hand to his mouth and kisses it. "I really am. I should have said it sooner. But I’m going to take you to a place where I’ll say it every day. I promise.” He wraps an arm around his angel's shoulders, gently urging Aziraphale to leave before the battle brewing, showing no sign of slowing down until it has consumed every last brick, every last breath of air, swallows them, too.

But Aziraphale hesitates. "C-can't we take them with us?" He gestures down to a tattered group of frightened survivors - a shivering young woman, no older than twenty-five if she's a day, and three children, all under the age of ten - huddled in a narrow crevice created by a metal door off its hinges, sheltering them among the rubble of the church's ruined stairs.

They've found themselves a decent hideaway, Aziraphale thinks. But he knows they're simply delaying the inevitable. They'll be found out before too long, become collateral damage.

Like everyone else.

"We can't just leave them to die, Crowley."

"We have no other choice." Crowley's need to escape intensifies as he watches the poor humans, tastes their fear rise with the heat of the flames. "Besides, perhaps they'll pull through. You never know. Humans have always been resourceful. They might find a way."

"Do you honestly think so?"

"Yes," Crowley lies. He would give his angel anything in the universe, anything within his power. He's trying to give him faith.

Because he can't give him this.

They can't save anyone but themselves.

Crowley turns Aziraphale away, blocks his view by unfurling his dark wings, ready to lift his angel into the air on his own if Aziraphale refuses. "I'm sorry, my love. We must leave them behind."

Aziraphale relents, unfurling his own white wings and heading for the upper atmosphere, watery eyes focused on the where in front of him and not the destruction behind him, with Crowley's shard of hope keeping his heart pinned in place.

Crowley should do the same. Ignorance is bliss, after all. But like Lot's wife, Crowley peeks behind him one last time to say goodbye to this place that has been his home for most of his existence.

It was a wonderful existence, but mostly because he had Aziraphale there to muddle through with him.

At least Crowley will still have him when all is said and done.

The last thing Crowley sees before they breach the clouds is St. Paul's Cathedral crumble in on itself, leaving behind a mound of ash.

And nothing more.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

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beebrainedstudios · 4 years

Photo

Alright, here’s Astrid, last but definitely not least of the Dane twins set! As with Athos, a lot of thought went into her design, and since there’s a lot of room for interpretation with them due to comparative lack of page time in the series, I will be including several design notes and general headcanons under the cut. Enjoy! (Btw, the rest of the designs are tagged #adsom ref, in case you want to go back to compare the twins’ designs)

- So, the first thing people will probably notice about this Astrid design is the hair. Where did that come from?

This is War from the Good Omens tv show (yes, that War, the horseman of the apocalypse). As soon as I read about Astrid, my mind flew to this character- the braid, the sass, the general sense of “I can end your life and will enjoy doing so.” War was a big inspiration for Astrid’s design, especially with her hair, so my version of Astrid is the braiding queen. Nobody knows how she gets her hair piled up like that, but it certainly adds to her presence and her impressive height. Her hair is slightly curlier than her brother’s and a lot thinner, but it still braids well and that’s all she cares about. Like Athos, she does not have a single hairstyle; this is just her favorite. The only downside is she can’t wear her crown like this, but what does that matter when her eyes and veins mark her as a Dane? People still get the message that they need to look away and bow down.

- On to pendants! Astrid makes all of her own jewelry; she may not have Athos’ creative streak, but she still has a knack for metalwork, which serves her well since she doesn’t really trust anyone else to make her pendants. As seen on her gloves, Astrid likes to make things out of the remnants of stained glass windows, which were common in Makt’s prime and can still be found if one knows where to look. For more utilitarian clasps, such as those on her boots and cape, Astrid will use carved bone to allow her to more easily adjust her belts.

- As said on Athos’ ref, black blood mean purple mouths and black eyes when the Danes use their magic. Astrid actually gets two versions of her “casting” eyes; one for lightning (and bone manipulation), and one for possession and mimicry (the spell she used to imitate Lila). When using the latter, both she and her victim will gain a blue-highlighted pupil, but the victim or alternate body do not gain blue irises.

- Those boots are specifically meant for riding, but Astrid doesn’t mind using them to kick somebody’s lights out. They are pointy for a reason after all.

- Both her cape and belt are made of velvet and were a gift from Athos from one of their birthdays (he didn’t make it himself, but he did pay for/coerce someone into making it). Astrid sees ermine as her symbol of sorts, as they are some of the most vicious predators on the planet regardless of their size. When once asked why she prefers them over something more intimidating like a wolf or bear, she simply replied, “Rabbits will spend their whole lives looking for wolves, only to die when they fail to spot a stoat in the grass.” The cape is also incredibly warm and colorful, which Astrid loves dearly.

- Astrid wears significantly less armor than her brother; out of the two of them she is much better at defending herself from a surprise attack (Athos needs time to set the stage with traps or to get in position with his whip). She doesn’t tend to carry weapons as much either, as she is physically very strong- especially for White London- and can easily beat someone into submission. Remember her fight with Lila? Most of the time, any attack on Astrid ends up with the attacker on the ground with a least a few broken bones and electrical scars, and if they aren’t dead by the end of it she’ll leave them to her brother. She is not to be messed with and people know that well; she rarely has to personally defend herself, but she is perfectly happy to demonstrate her capability if she needs to. The only thing she struggles with is runes, as she doesn’t have the same steady hand her brother does. While she can make the most basic runes and can enchant her pendants, anything more than that is past her skill level.

- Astrid is tall, especially with her heels and hair. Without either she probably stands around 5,7′, but with the addition of her attire she can easily reach 5,11′. By comparison, Holland is 6,0′ and Athos is 5,6′ with all of his gear on.

- Now for personality stuff! While Astrid did not suffer any huge physical effects from her rough childhood like her brother did, she did grow up to be emotionally messed up. As the eldest (by half an hour) and biggest, Astrid put pressure on herself to be the most capable sibling to ensure that both of them made it to adulthood; all of this self-inflicted responsibility, when combined with no good examples and a horrible environment, has led to her being fairly emotionally numb as she grew. She never really needed intense emotion to get by and therefore sees certain feelings as a waste of time unless they are for the right reasons. For example, while Astrid is perfectly fine with indulging in feelings of anger, pride, envy, or love for her brother, she sees anything closely resembling sadness or regret as gross and wasteful. Astrid will never be found feeling sorry for herself or trying to work through any sort of trauma; she doesn’t have time for that. This is one of the reasons she doesn’t enjoy Holland’s company as much as Athos- she and Holland share a lot emotionally in common and she doesn’t want to spend her afternoons with a mopey version of herself, even if it is fun to rile him up. Astrid also has a deep appreciation for aesthetics and beauty; while no one could accuse her of being a patriot, she does feel a lot of indignation on behalf of her people for the way Red London isolated itself and stole the color from her world.

- Astrid is extremely possessive of things she likes; she is far less likely to kill someone for attempted regicide than she is to do so for thievery or messing with her stuff (assuming she was the one attacked; if someone attacks her brother they pay for it dearly). They’d still get punished of course, but they’d likely only lose a limb rather than their life or their mind. Astrid sees the world in terms of what people have; that’s where control and security come from. The only reason she really lets Holland stay around besides his usefulness is because he belongs to Athos and is therefore under the umbrella of “it’s ours don’t touch it.” Her fascination with Kell is related to this; she wants him in the same way someone may covet their neighbor’s money or car, as well as to have her own Antari like her brother (she does want her own, just not Holland since he’s such a bore to her).

- As far as ruling Makt goes, Astrid actually doesn’t want her world to suffer under her thumb. She’s wanted to be queen for years and now that she is one, she doesn’t want to suck at it. Her plans to conquer Arnes are genuinely motivated by the health of her kingdom- she doesn’t feel any personal attachment to it, but it is hers and that means she isn’t going to let it die. After all, it’s the only home she and her brother have ever known.

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 4: Letter's From No One

Frank had been having a bad day before seven people landed on top of him, this just wasn't improving things.

There were several groans and mutters of yet more discomfort, but even more sounds of relief as one by one they all got to their feet and stretched, glancing around wearily at their surroundings, all wands now drawn in the open space of a house they may never have been in, but from description had a fair idea of where they were.

The plush carpet was thick and white, and smelled strongly as if it had just been shampooed, leading the boys to instantly wish their trainers were dirtier. Directly in the next room was a proper looking telly adjacent to a fireplace, the mantel of which did indeed hold numerous pictures of who must be Dudley. Behind them led into the kitchen, almost hard to look at it was gleaming so brightly in a high noon sun, Alice quite positive she may be able to see her reflection in the tiled floor which was beautifully done in various shades of pink perfectly distributed in a diamond pattern, with a mahogany table polished enough to eat off of sat center stage.

The whole place was almost eerily clean, too sterile, like breathing on the wrong thing would spark dust and send someone into a frenzy.

So the first thing James did was go over to the sideboard carefully constructed on the wall in the living room full of glass figurines, picked the nicest china plate he could with petunia's delicately painted on in ornate blue designs, and chucked it through the window that led onto the open lawn in a mockery of a disc throw.

Lily frowned reproachfully at this behaviour, but turned dismissively away as his three friends followed him curiously into the living room and instead addressed Alice and Frank more directly. "Well, I clearly didn't reverse anything, and I do apologize for that."

"I'm hazarding a guess you somehow made it worse," Alice agreed, not exactly trying to be malicious, but considering they weren't even on the school grounds, or in fact had any clue how they'd actually wound up here, she couldn't bring herself to be in much of a gracious mood either.

"Anybody else at all concerned if those Dursleys are around?" Frank asked with a hint of worry, still glancing around as if expecting a bull to charge him any moment. "I'd not particularly like to meet this Vernon." Especially while watching the elder Black transfigure pictures of Dudley into actual baby piglets upon the mantel where they were now squealing in fright.

"Speak for yourself," Lupin said in disgust, prodding his wand against the television with a calculating look in place. There was a fizzle, sparks for a moment, then it was steaming while also flashing upon the screen images ranging from witches on brooms to, well, more adult channels.

Pettigrew was doing something equally noteworthy they were all sure underneath the sofa that he'd wriggled himself under. It was now levitating a few inches off the ground, only his feet sticking out, and they could hear a faint humming noise as he worked.

Lily was continuing to address the other three without acknowledging any of them, without being able to entirely hide a slightly vindictive glint in her eyes with her back to them all. "Listen, this is getting ridiculous. We need to find some way to get help, maybe figure out a way to get to the Ministry and find a way to reverse all of this."

"I've a question," Regulus spoke up. There wasn't a trace of unease in his voice while speaking, but still he seemed to be having trouble really looking at any one person. "Exactly what year is it?" He was looking strategically around the house. "Petunia should still be your age, yes? Which means she shouldn't even be married to this man yet, let alone this house, and, well..." he gestured to everything around them, and Lily's face paled an extra degree, even the Marauders stopped in their tracks as they fully realized this. "I'm honestly rather concerned if anything we know exists right now."

Lily turned on the spot and tried to go to the door without further ado, but like the cupboard before, no amount of magic or brute force was even putting a dent in it. James tried to climb out the window, breaking the rest of it remorselessly so it was much safer to climb through of course, but could not get so much as a finger out the window no matter how many more objects he threw that managed it just fine.

In a last ditch attempt, Peter ran to the back door in an honest panic and wrenched at the sliding glass that he nearly ran into it was so free of streaks, but it too refused them access to the outside world.

Alice kept at the broken window and began shouting out of it for help, but soon realized she could be doing the same until her voice was no more and no one would come.

"What did we do!" Lily shrieked, clutching fistfulls of hair, her green eyes flashing a sickly color and swimming. "Did we actually manage to break the world!"

"Alright, alright, no panicking!" Frank quickly waved for silence, trying to find some control and still going over to Alice, putting a comforting hand on her slightly shaking shoulder and refusing to let his hand join as he spoke. "Something is clearly happening. Now that, that book," he gestured to where it had been left just inside the cupboard in their haste, "clearly has something to do with it all, getting through it is clearly getting us around. So, maybe, if we finish it-"

"We'll get things back to normal," Alice finished for him, her voice far calmer than her small shivers let on.

There was still hesitation and unease for this, as if no one wanted back near the little book now that the full might of its powers was realized.

Yet Remus had one reason in particular he'd like to not be trapped in this cycle for the foreseeable future and would like to have things done, so he found it in himself to be the one to continue this. It wasn't even hard to find his place, the first chunk of pages were completely blank again. The next chapter, Letter's From No One, and the first sentence were the only thing visible in the book.

"Right then," James nodded at him when he got started, all of them with a good idea what the chapter title referred to considering this was from the point of view from a kid raised with Muggles. Wincing at the idea of being trapped in that cupboard for any length of time considering his recent foray in there, and quickly trying to find something else to do, "you do that then. I'm going to keep myself busy."

By this, he clearly meant continue destroying the house around him, possibly even burn it down if he got the chance before he left. He started by joining Peter in the kitchen and having an interesting conversation with him about what a refrigerator was and why it was stocked full of such odd foods.

Regulus could think of nothing to do but follow Sirius as he went tromping up the stairs, and though he loathed every step he had to take in this Muggle dwelling, it was still better than awkwardly standing there by Lupin. The two brothers could still surprisingly hear every word from up here, though unsure if it was magic making this happen or simply how large and open the house felt without seemingly another soul on earth to hear as well.

Sirius continued making plenty of threats against these Muggles as further mistreatment of Harry continued, though just a small pinch of hope did arrive when Harry's Hogwarts letter was finally in his grasp. It didn't matter the fact this kid was still nothing more than a figment in their head, that was Prongs' kid, his nephew he would still consider him no matter his best mates current feelings towards Sirius, and he couldn't imagine taking this lying down if he'd still had breath, so there was as much a purpose to his steps as there was continuing his revenge. If he kept moving, he'd continue to convince himself he wasn't going to drop dead like this future implied.

Regulus wasn't at all invested in this story past the fact it was having the surprising act of putting him and his brother on the same side of something for the first time in over five years. Ever since Sirius had come back from his first year at Hogwarts Regulus had felt like he'd lost his big brother, but finally their feelings on Muggles were once again made clear. If anything this was only reinforcing Regulus' idea of the whole species, and so it was with childish delight he followed Sirius into the master bedroom and at once helped him start dismantling the area.

Alice, Frank, and Lily were vaguely terrified to step foot in the living room, where the piglets had now gotten down and were actually setting off a few traps that for now weren't deadly, but the three people didn't want to know how far it had gone in there. Nor did Lily have any desire to be back within close range of Potter after such forced conditions, so they remained uneasily in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs and watched Lupin restlessly flip through pages, concern growing the more the Dursleys efforts to hide this from Harry became.

Lily couldn't help thinking how could any child be treated like this, let alone her sister's nephew? The two little girls hadn't been close in years now, but even still Lily couldn't imagine for a second being under the condition of taking in Dudley and doing anything like this. Why then did Petunia feel this was okay to be done?

When things escalated in that the Dursleys even left the house and began trying to find places to hide, her confusion only grew.

"Cokeworth?" Lily muttered in surprise, wondering that of all places, why would the Dursleys think they could return to the town she and Petunia had grown up in to escape magic? Had they possibly some naïve idea of evading the owls by being near an old place they'd have once gone? She couldn't help her mind drifting to just one street over from her house, where Spinner's End began, and how she longed for Severus to be here with her now amongst all of these people, most of whom she loathed. The two best friends may have been on uneasy terms lately with all the people he'd been hanging around with, but he was still her friend, and that would have been nice right about now in such a situation, Potter was lucky in that regards at least.

Speaking of, the man seemed done with the kitchen for now, and none of them had the desire to step in there either when a lingering burning smell was left at the twos heels.

Peter continued right up the stairs, but hesitated in surprise and turned back to see James now hovering in front of Evans. He was struggling with words in front of her for the first time in, ever. His flamboyant nature seemed to be failing him, and his friend hadn't a single guess what he was trying to say to the red head.

Finally, he said stiffly, "your sister sucks."

She kept her hands placed defensively on her hips, but gave a single nod.

It was the first time in their history they'd openly agreed on something, and clearly it was all the two could handle in one moment, as James then bolted up the stairs after his mates.

Peter caught sight of flickering lights and immediately went to see what they were up to, but James began curiously trying to get the rest of the doors open. One flat out wouldn't, like those before, it seemed sealed by a magic he had no hope to understand, and he couldn't figure out why until he found what must be Dudley's room that opened just fine. The other then, was likely his second bedroom, or Harry's, depending. Why was it sealed off, he tried to understand while at the same time pacing with fascination in front of numerous posters he had not a clue of understanding and rows of slim cases. He picked one up and found it of a stiff plastic, with odd little titles across that could have been Greek he understood those no better even if the words were English.

He came to a stop in front of a desk that had a shiny box with reflective glass on the front of it. It sort of looked like the device downstairs Remus had set his sights on, but on a smaller scale, with a truly odd rectangle in front of it that had letters randomly spaced and some little device resting on what may be a cushion with two little buttons that did nothing with something even smaller set in between the two buttons that spun and also felt useless. All of this was set next to a giant black box.

Deciding it looked expensive and important, he shoved the whole thing off and watched with satisfaction as it crashed, not needing to know what it was to be sure he'd broken the majority of it. The glass screen had cracked, several of the little letters seemed to have popped out of the rectangle, and the little spinny thing on the small cushion was rolling away, but it was the box that had gotten the worst, having landed first and having the other things smash on top of it. James cocked his head to the side as the inside was exposed and leaned in closer, noticing it was doing the same thing the contraption downstairs had when Remus had used a spell on it. Sparks were coming out, and as he followed a thick cord sticking out the back of it he saw it was connected to something inside the wall. He couldn't pull that out, he decided, it would be more effort than it was worth, so wanting to pull it apart further he stuck his hand inside right next to a bright red wire.

"I can not believe that place is hospitable," Alice shook her head at the description Lupin was providing of such a shack.

Suddenly Remus stiffened and muttered, "the words vanished."

"What?" Frank asked in surprise just as there was a thump from upstairs, like something even heavier landing than whichever person had just broken something.

At first they just went up curiously to see what could have disrupted this, then they heard shouts of panic.

Remus shoved Regulus aside hard, the book smacking him with enough force to leave a bruise as it left his hands, not even registering Regulus made no move to catch it when he only recognized two voices and saw why.

Sirius had at once jumped forward and dragged him to the opposite end of the room, away from the sparking computer, and was now tapping him on the face and shouting his name repeatedly while Peter crouched on his other side and was all but crying, "oh Merlin, is he dead? Did we kill him? Why did no one realize doing this could get us all killed that much earlier! We shouldn't know any of this, and now we're all going to die-"

He was holding James' hand so hard he looked like he was trying to pull it off and hardly released it when Remus tried to get both of them to move. "Shut up, both of you," he hissed, before carefully placing his fingers in his jugular, and waiting one agonizingly long moment before he felt a soft thump that kept his own going.

His breath of relief calmed the two before he had a chance to even say, "he's alive, though that probably won't feel good," he nodded to James' slightly charred index finger. Peter quickly released his hand with an uttered apology and even took a hasty step back like he thought he was only going to make it worse. Remus fixed him and Sirius with a hateful look while hovering next to James' head before anyone else got any bright ideas. "What were you two idiots thinking? Why weren't you keeping an eye on him?"

"What is he, five?" Sirius demanded, fear quickly giving way to defense though his hand lingered on James' sternum. It was the exact same defensive expression Remus had seen of him for the past three weeks. It was, in fact, the exact same reaction he'd had so many nights ago, the day after the full moon when Remus had last confronted him. The tension between the two ramped up so high for a moment another spark nearly set off between them before James moved restlessly and squinted blearily at the pair.

"You two talkin' again?" He muttered disjointedly, moving as if to fix his glasses on his nose before hissing and curling on his side protectively around his hand.

"Sure Prongs, you got it," Sirius said at once, trying to lean over him with concern, but James was already trying to prop himself upright, using his other hand to get himself back into a sitting position.

His friends tried to help at once even as he tried to shrug them off, hampered slightly by the fact his hand was still spasming slightly. Finally he was resting slightly more dignified with his back against the wall and just gazing blearily around, his hand curled protectively against his chest still, and was distantly pleased to see Evans' eyes glued to him, though her pupils were so wide from shock they nearly covered the green, he noted sadly.

Looking for something to make his friends stop watching him like a mewling kitten for a second, he instead directed his hand towards the still sparking box and tried to pleasantly inform, "don't touch that."

Peter gave a wild burst of laughter that still sounded a bit wet while Remus and Sirius exchanged commiserating looks of exasperation that James had missed so much he instantly smiled.

The moment was broken by Regulus calling, "err, Lupin, the words are back." He was nudging the book with his foot, and Remus' face at once settled into that indifferent mask as he pulled away from Sirius and went over to it, snatching it off the floor and trying to continue in the awkward silence.

He nearly got to the end before Sirius took it upon himself to act on the first moment they'd had in nearly a month. He grabbed Remus' sleeve and tried to drag him away, the ones huddled in the doorway moving aside with looks on their faces like they were seeing a ghost for the first time, for whom Sirius didn't care. Remus ignored him, letting himself be dragged along only so he could keep reading, hoping the magic from finishing this would stop Sirius before this could get started, but was distracted by the bathroom door closing and Sirius whispering in genuine horror, "What if we never make up from this fight Moony?" The idea hadn't even occurred to him until this moment, and he was seized with what it would mean for him. "You weren't mentioned by McGonagall there at the beginning! What if we died! We never went and got Harry out of there!"

"I mean, maybe we just-" Remus failed to really get his head around this idea. He kept trying to let his eyes linger on the words instead of Sirius, tried to convince his mind to be more curious what a boom could be doing around Harry, but it was no use. "Like we're equipped to handle a kid!" He grasped on the part he could still make sense of.

"You think Prongs is?" Sirius demanded, an actual smile on his lips even as he pictured it, there was no force to the joke.

Remus opened, and closed his mouth for that one.

"We have to find a way to fix this Remus," Sirius said, grabbing his arm, looking right into his face, determined to stay on track and make him see this. "We can't let Harry grow up, like I did!"

"You're talking nonsense," Remus tried to scoff, tried to push his hand away without looking at him. "The bloody kid's not even born yet, I'm still not really believing Evans actually does fall for James, the idiot." It was hard though, to keep pretending like this was all just some story, when he did take a peek and see how deeply that had hurt Sirius, like he was playing off what had happened to him as well. He struggled to swallow for a moment, speaking of the real matter when whispering, "I don't know how to forgive what you did."

Sirius released him and took a hurried step back, seeming to have forgotten himself for a moment, that he was supposed to be angry with Remus, why he suddenly couldn't even remember. His face closed off, he now had the same cruel twist to his lips Regulus had while speaking of the Muggles while still in the cupboard. "Right, well, that's that then."

He walked back off without another word, leaving Remus more confused and miserable than ever. He didn't have long to dwell on it, as he looked down and read the final lines aloud, even to himself, Harry's final feelings felt all too appropriate. The second he finished, the feeling began again.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Regulus Black #Lily Evans #Marauders #Reading the books

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phoenix-downer · 5 years

Text

Of Which Reason Knows Nothing Chapter 1

I’m happy to post the first part of the project @chibiranmaruchan and I collaborated on! They drew the art, and I wrote the fic. Working with them was a lot of fun, and I’m really happy with what we’ve created. The first chapter I’m posting today, and the second I will post next Friday. I will also be posting this story to FFN and AO3 if those are your preferred reading spot(s).

Length: ~2100 words

Summary: Kairi may have lost someone important, but she isn’t alone, and she isn’t without hope. And her mysterious dreams just might have a clue as to Sora’s whereabouts…

Characters: Kairi, Sora’s Mother, Riku

Additional Info: Implied Kairi/Sora, Riku and Kairi friendship. Post-Kingdom Hearts III. Referenced Character Death. Guilt, Grief/Grieving, Angst, Comfort, Dreams, Friendship.

Enjoy!

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Facing Sora’s mother was one of the hardest things Kairi had ever done.

Knocking on the door to Sora’s house had required all of her courage as it was. The cheerful welcome sign hanging on it, with its blue letters against a sunny yellow background, was downright mocking. What could she even say? She wasn’t welcome here. It was her fault Sora was gone; her fault he—

“Kairi?”

She couldn’t even look his mother in the eye. Her throat was dry and all of her carefully planned words fled her mind.

All that came out was, “I’m sorry.” Not that any apology could ever make up for what had happened, for the loss of someone so dear to them both.

“Sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault.”

Her eyes snapped to his mother’s. They were just like his, blue as the sky, only clouded with grief. Seeing them was like a punch in the stomach.

“It was,” Kairi said. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

His mother shook her head. “No. Riku told me what happened. It’s because of you that he even lived.”

Kairi had to choke back a sob at that, and his mother just wrapped her arms around her. She didn’t resist. She didn’t have the energy to anymore.

“I miss him so much,” she said as the tears started to stream down her cheeks anyway.

“I do too.”

His mother invited her in after that, for tea and cookies. It actually helped a little, being near things that reminded her of him. Like a part of his soul still lingered on. It helped to tell stories about him, too. To listen to his mother’s stories.

“When he came home the night before you two and Riku set off,” she said, stirring the sugar and milk into her tea, “I knew something special had happened.”

Kairi perked up. “Oh?”

“He couldn’t stop smiling. Couldn’t focus on anything, especially not his dinner. Just had this big dreamy grin on his face with a faraway look in his eyes as he spilled his rice all over his lap. I figured it had something to do with you.”

Kairi smiled a little. “It did.” She thought of how he’d looked at her after they’d shared the paopu fruit and felt all warm inside. “He has such a beautiful smile.”

“That he does.”

They sipped their tea and nibbled on their cookies and kept sharing stories about him. But the shadows outside were growing long now, and Kairi needed to get home for dinner soon.

“Before you go,” his mother said, “would you like to see his room?”

Kairi’s heart pounded. “Is that… is that okay?”

“Of course. I thought… maybe, if it helps you, you can look at his things.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

One by one her feet took her up the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last, till the door to his bedroom was right in front of her.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe it would be better to—

“It’s okay. You can go in.”

His room hadn’t really changed all that much since she’d last been here. The floor was still cluttered with stuff, old toys and clothes and knick-knacks, as he hadn’t been home long between his return and his Mark of Mastery exam. But despite that, it was well dusted, and if she didn’t know any better, she would expect him to come bursting through the door any second now.

One of his hoodies was strewn across his bed, the red and black one, and she couldn’t help herself. She walked over and picked it up, then hesitated and looked back towards his mother for permission.

“Would it be okay… if I borrowed this, for now?”

“Of course. He’d want you to have it.”

Kairi nodded and pulled it over her head. It still smelled like him, and wearing it felt like he was giving her a hug.

His mother gave her an understanding look. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready. Take all the time you need.”

Kairi couldn’t bring herself to sit on his bed, but she did look around his room a little. Resting on his bedside table was a letter – her letter. She picked it up, mouthing the words as she read along. She remembered how her hand had flown across the paper, the words spilling out of her heart as her memories of him had returned.

“Starts with an ‘S,’” she murmured as the page in front of her blurred. His expression of pure joy as he ran through the water popped into her head. Would he still have smiled if he knew the fate that awaited him? That only a few months later, he’d be dead because of her?

She set the letter back down. In their final moments together, he’d smiled much like he’d smiled that day, and she had to wipe her eyes. Even the happy memories were bittersweet now. But something told her he wouldn’t want her to be sad, and so she did her best to remember the good things.

After returning home, dinner went by in a blur. Her appetite still hadn’t recovered, and she could only pick at the delicious food her mother had made, stir fry with pineapples and paopu fruit. The paopu fruit reminded her of Sora, of the cave drawing, of the special moment they’d shared as they’d fed each other the fruit. Not even meals were safe from her memories.

Going to bed was a struggle, too. When she wasn’t lying awake for hours on end, thinking about what had happened, she was having nightmares about it instead. A sharp pain in her back as Xehanort struck the killing blow, over and over again. Sora slipping right through her fingers and falling into the abyss. No matter what he did, no matter what she did, they could never reach each other. She always woke up, alone, with tears streaking her cheeks.

But with Sora’s hoodie on, things felt a little better. She felt a little closer to him. She sent Riku a quick text, then Xion and Naminé, before putting her Gummiphone back on the bedside table.

Maybe tonight she’d finally be able to sleep.

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Neon lights, flashing colors. An enormous city with skyscrapers pointing towards the moon, trying to reach the heavens but getting pulled back down to earth. Water on the ground in puddles as raindrops splashed into them, disturbing the surface of the water, reflecting the surroundings like a mirror.

Kairi had never seen this place before. It wasn’t The World That Never Was – the buildings didn’t match. This was somewhere new, somewhere different.

White paint on the ground. Lots of lines running across the street. Big billboards running dozens of different ads at the same time. Cars with bright lights, too bright in the dark. The sky a strange shade of purple with ominous black clouds. A big white tower with the numbers 104 in neon red letters.

She glanced at one of the puddles nearby. A face with blue eyes and spiky brown hair stared back.

Her eyes flew open. “Sora?”

But the dream was over already. What was that place? A big city… a building with the numbers 104… and Sora, somehow. In some place she’d never been before.

Could it be—

No. It was better not to hope. Better not to get her hopes up. And yet… all of her past dreams about him had just been repeating the same things over and over again. This was new.

She grabbed her Gummiphone and made as many notes as possible so she wouldn’t forget her dream, then rolled over and went back to sleep.

When she woke up the next morning, she opened her phone to see what it said:

104 Building

Puddles

Sora

Really? That was really all she had written? Curse her sleepy brain for not being thorough. Sighing, she pulled up her chat with Riku. Time to arrange a meeting with him.

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As the mayor’s daughter, Kairi’s house was up on a hill a little ways away from everyone else’s houses. To reach the street where Riku’s house was, she hopped on her bike. The wind whistled through her ears as she descended the hill, reminding her of all the times she’d raced down this very hill with Sora and Riku. The roads on Destiny Islands were mostly dirt ones, and it was quite the bumpy ride.

Riku’s house looked much like the other houses on Destiny Islands did, but it was nonetheless charming, with its red brick roof and cute shuttered windows. As she approached and parked her bike (no need to worry about locks, no one really stole stuff from each other around here), she noticed smoke was coming out of the chimney. Maybe his mother was cooking something delicious for breakfast.

After a quick knock on the door, Riku invited her in. She removed her shoes and arranged them neatly, then stepped up into the house.

“Sorry for intruding!” she called in the customary way. No one actually thought you were intruding when you visited, but it was the height of bad manners not to say the little phrase.

“Welcome to our home,” his mother called back from the kitchen. After exchanging pleasantries, Kairi gave his mother a thank you gift for allowing her to visit, macarons in a nice box with a red bow from the bakery.

Riku led her into the living room after that, and they took a seat on the couch. He poured them both some green tea, then settled back and said, “So, you said there was something you wanted to talk about?”

“Riku, do you know what the numbers 104 mean?”

He frowned. “104?”

“Yes. I saw them in a dream.”

She explained as much of the dream as she could remember – the building with 104 and the puddle with Sora’s reflection in it. The other details were hazy, but she remembered thinking she hadn’t been there before, and she told Riku as much.

“So, a place you don’t know. These weird numbers. And Sora. You think it might be a clue as to where he is right now?”

She nodded. “That’s exactly what I was thinking, But I thought… maybe… I was just grasping at straws.”

“Because you want to see him again.”

She didn’t say anything. Riku was right on the munny, as always.

“Trust me, I know the feeling,” he said with a sigh. “I keep hoping and then wondering if it’s just wishful thinking. But this, this sounds like an actual lead.”

“What makes you think that?”

She had to hear it from someone else. She couldn’t trust her own heart to be honest with her anymore.

“Well, for one, you said it’s somewhere you’ve never been before. Your nightmares were always places you’ve already been, right?”

She nodded.

“And you saw that building with a very specific number. Why would you remember a detail like that?”

“Well… the four at the end stuck with me.”

While residents of Radiant Garden considered the number thirteen unlucky, four was the number of death on Destiny Islands. The hospital didn’t have a fourth floor. The numbering went from three on the third floor to five on what should’ve been the fourth floor. The school didn’t have a fourth floor either. So to see it on a building like that when she knew Sora was—

“You think you saw him in the afterlife, don’t you?” Riku said.

She nodded again. “It’s the only explanation I can think of. But how is that even possible? I thought that once you’re dead, that’s it. You cross over whatever barrier there is between the Realm of the Living and the Realm of the Dead. No more contact with the people you’ve left behind.”

He shrugged. “If our journeys have taught me anything, it’s that there’s a lot I don’t know about how reality works. But one thing I do know is that if anything can last beyond death, it’s the bond you and Sora share.”

Tears pricked her eyes. Why was she always on the verge of crying now?

Riku awkwardly patted her head. He was trying, he was really trying, and that made her cry even harder.

“Hey, we’ll figure something out,” he said. “You and Sora are both too stubborn to let each other go. And luckily for you both, I’m too stubborn to let either of you go.”

She laughed through her tears at that. Sora might be gone, but at least she still had Riku. At least she still had the rest of her friends. Together, they’d find a way to bring Sora back.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Check back next week for Chapter 2!

Quick edit: You can see the art @chibiranmaruchan made here!

#kingdom hearts #kairi #sora's mother #riku #sokai #implied sokai #kairi and riku friendship #kh fanfiction #phoenix writes #phoenix-downer #chibiranmaruchan #collaboration #long post #kh3 spoilers

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somniumoflight · 4 years

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Crossover Idea #10 – My Hero Academia/Avatar: The Last Airbender

The Fire Nation’s royal family is haunted by two spirits that appear under very specific circumstances – these spirits are Todoroki Shoto and Dabi.

So, I’ve been reading a lot of Avatar fanfictions lately, and amongst the ones I’ve read is this really good BNHA crossover fanfic where Zuko and Todoroki keep accidentally switching places with each other in their respective worlds. The fanfic itself isn’t too long yet (only 4 chapters so far) but there’s a very long bnha atla swap au tag on @captainkirkk’s tumblr page (might have gotten the acronyms in the wrong order, be forewarned) where people have drawn many, many comparisons between the Todoroki family and the Fire Nation royal family, and that kind of inspired this idea.

So, here’s the rundown of this crossover au. The first divergence happened a hell of a long time ago, only a couple generations after the first Fire Lord was properly crowned. The grandson of the first Fire Lord (aka the third Fire Lord, aka guess who this is?) sought the power to surpass his generation’s Avatar, at first with his own flames but eventually by finding a spiritually powerful firebender of mixed blood to force into a marriage, in the hopes that having more than Fire Nation in their blood would make his children strong enough to challenge the Avatar. This, and that Lord’s abusive “training” of his two sons, backfired on him magnificently when the eldest son first ran away, then tried to lead a rebellion against his father and in the process convinced his youngest sibling to help said rebellion. When the two boys were executed for treason after the rebellion failed, their ghosts lingered, haunting their family so that they could continue trying to bring their father down after death.

Except after their father finally died, they continued to linger in the living world rather than moving on. So now they haunt the royal family and have been doing so for generations, and slowly over the centuries have become proper spirits rather than just human ghosts – one, a guardian spirit for those betrayed by those of their blood (Shoto) and the other an avenger who lingers as long as the one betrayed wants vengeance but has yet to take it (Dabi.)

Fast forward to when Zuko is alive. For as long as his father’s been treating him poorly in favor of Azula (so, like, as soon as Azula started bending before him), he’s been catching glimpses of a strange teenager with mismatched eyes and a streak of white in his hair around the palace, usually when something nasty is about to happen to him and then some weird incident happens that stops that something nasty in its tracks. Nobody but Zuko seems to realize he’s there until after his Uncle comes back from Ba Sing Se, sees the spirit as well, and realizes just how screwed up the royal family’s become. And then little differences start stacking up, influencing canon as they go and blowing everything off the rails one wheel at a time.

Details of this crossover:

Endeavor was the grandson of the first Fire Lord in the Fire Nation’s history, and the third Fire Lord to be crowned. He was, according to legend, one of the most powerful Fire Lords to ever rule, and was said to be friends with his generation’s Avatar (who, come on, has to be All Might. Who else could it be?)

However, jealous of the power that that Avatar had, Endeavor forced a woman of mixed Fire Nation and Water Tribe blood (there were probably Water Tribe pirates, let’s say that her mother was fire nation… let’s leave it at that) and great spiritual and (water)bending power to marry him, in the hopes that the mixed blood would make his children powerful enough to contend with the Avatar.

Technically he sort of got what he wanted – his eldest son found it remarkably easy to use the more powerful blue flames that he had such trouble with, and his youngest son figured out how to imitate waterbending by basically pulling a Zuko from Vathara’s Embers – he could put heat into water and manipulate it that way

However, both of these powerful children hated his guts for how he treated them while “training,” and so when the eldest son (Dabi) ran away and eventually returned as the leader of a rebellion against him, and the youngest (Shoto) was convinced to help his oldest brother in order to protect his family, he was “forced” to hunt them down and kill them before they could topple his regime.

The two sons, however, lingered after death as ghosts in order to protect their remaining family from their father (Shoto) and keep trying to kill him as revenge (Dabi). They lingered for so long waiting for their old man to die that some of the servants in the palace started praying to them as if they were spirits, and as such when Endeavor finally died (Dabi managed to destroy the ceiling in his room somehow and crushed him under the beams) the two ghosts ended up lingering as… guardian spirits of sorts, for their siblings’ descendants.

They only appear when similar circumstances to their own life – one of the royal family trying to hurt (physically or emotionally) one of their siblings, parents, children, etcetera – and otherwise do not interact with the family.

Fast forward thousands of years, Shoto and Dabi have grown in power, and their origins have faded from the annuls of Fire Nation history. Zuko is born to Ozai, and it soon becomes clear that Ozai is not happy with his perfectly good son, and could care less whether he lives or dies. He starts seriously considering hurting the boy when Azula starts bending before him, which is when Shoto first starts appearing.

He mostly protects Zuko from attempts on his life or accidents that could end up hurting him. This includes everything from assassination attempts from people within or without the Fire Nation to, I dunno, random branches falling out of trees that could squash him. On one memorable occasion Shoto saves Zuko from drowning, which draws the attention of the palace staff and Ozai, since it was so very clearly a spirit that saved him – what else could make water boil and then surge to shore carrying the drowning boy?

Zuko basically ends up growing up in the palace with a spiritual bodyguard hovering over his shoulder that he’s at first barely aware of and knows next to nothing about, save that the spirit is apparently Fire Nation yet controls water somehow, and he seems to grow stronger as the years go on.

Technically, Shoto is getting stronger, but not because more time is passing – it’s because Ozai starts betraying Zuko as a father more and more, and Shoto’s starting to be reminded of his own father, and he DOES NOT APPRECIATE THE SIMILARITIES THANK YOU.

Then the Agni Kai happens – and the entire room of people watching the Agni Kai against Zuko’s father are right there to see Shoto suddenly appear before all of them, extremely pissed off at Ozai. While most of the people in the room don’t know what his appearance means, Ozai does – he knows what makes this particular spirit appear, and if anyone else in the room knew then he’d be screwed.

So instead of killing Zuko after the Agni Kai, like he was seriously considering, he banishes his son.

Shoto ends up sticking with Zuko throughout all his years searching for the Avatar and throughout the course of the canon story. His presence doesn’t overly change much, except Aang and eventually Katara and Sokka (after the North Pole) can see him due to their various spirit shenanigans across the nations, and seeing a spirit with the same scar as Zuko throws them through a loop a bit.

Things do make a major change after Azula arrives to take Zuko and Iroh back to the Fire Nation as prisoners. See, while most people don’t know the true nature of Shoto and Dabi as spirits, one of the few people (other than Ozai) that does is Iroh, mostly thanks to that pilgrimage he took following Ba Sing Se. And during one particularly bad day when Zuko is basically cursing Shoto’s existence because he doesn’t need help, why is this spirit even here, Iroh decides to tell him exactly why that spirit is there.

Finding out why Shoto is protecting him – because his father has betrayed him, and wants to harm him – shakes Zuko’s faith in Ozai WAY earlier than canon. It also plants a budding seed of resentment against his father and Azula (who has also betrayed him, if to a lesser extent than his father), which eventually leads to Zuko actually taking Aang and Katara’s side against Azula in Ba Sing Se, instead of later.

This is where Dabi comes into play, because unlike Shoto, who appears whenever Zuko needs to be protected from one of his own blood, Dabi appears whenever Zuko feels resentment and, even if only for a moment, seriously wants to hurt one of his own blood. Even normal siblings will occasionally want to strangle each other – there’s no way Zuko didn’t seriously want to hurt Azula at some point, even in canon.

So during the fight with Azula, Zuko feels just enough resentment of how perfect an heir to Ozai Azula is that Dabi appears and literally turns Azula’s own flames against her, burning her. It leaves a nasty scar similar to Dabi’s own across Azula’s face – a scar she cannot hide, a scar that makes her less than perfect, and Zuko is more than a little horrified, especially when he later finds out it was his own anger against her that technically let Dabi hurt her. He may have seriously wanted to hurt her, but he didn’t actually want to put her in danger from their father, and those scars are very recognizable.

Dabi doesn’t hurt anybody again for a long time, but Zuko keeps seeing him out of the corner of his eye or in reflections, or in dreams of his and Shoto’s past that he starts having following being attacked by another spirit while traveling with the Gaang out of Ba Sing Se or something.

Those dreams eventually lead to Zuko discovering just who Shoto and Dabi were in the past, with help from Iroh and the Gaang, and Zuko decides that not only is he going to help take down Ozai and keep his sister off the throne, but he’s going to do everything in his power to make certain that nobody in the royal family is ever hurt by their family again, at least not like THAT.

After that most things are more or less canon in terms of actual events during the show, and the last bit of canon divergence before the end of the show’s timeline is, when Aang turns up with Ozai after getting rid of his firebending, Ozai tries to convince him to take revenge against him, to burn him, kill him – and Zuko decides that he’s already had his revenge against him. That’s the last time Dabi appears, when he ends up burning a mark of shame into Ozai’s face and then vanishes and is never seen by any of the Gaang again.

Shoto, on the other hand, lingers for a long time, and Zuko still sees him out of the corner of his eyes as he becomes Fire Lord and works towards a better future for himself and his nation.

Cracky alternative title for this crossover: “Fuck Endeavor and Ozai: Shitty Parents Need to Burn”

#crossover ideas #my hero academia #Avatar The Last Airbender #MHA/A:tLA #Dabi and Todoroki Shoto are spirits haunting the fire nation royal family #who only appear under very specific circumstances #those circumstances being:#someone's family member by blood betrays/tries to hurt/abuses them (Shoto)#or someone who was betrayed by a family member wants revenge against them (Dabi)#Shoto is basically a guardian spirit #Dabi is an avenger #so when Ozai starts putting Zuko down/abusing him Shoto appears to start protecting him #and Dabi eventually appears when Zuko has too much resentment against family members and wants to hurt THEM for once #aka Azula gets a nasty burn scar to ruin her perfect pretty face #and eventually so does Ozai #its great #also Zuko has a lot more resentment towards his dad because Iroh told him why these spirits appear #and joins the Gaang early #otherwise - mostly canon A:tLA stuff #fun times

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ozarkhealingtraditions · 5 years

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From the Archives: The Razorback

Across the world, the wild boar and feral pig (two distinct critters though often overlapping in legend) have been scaring hunters shitless for centuries. As a fiercely aggressive animal it’s no wonder there are so many legends surrounding the beast. Ozarkers inherited much of their razorback lore from their Appalachian ancestors, who most likely their tales over with them from Europe. There are very few indigenous tales and beliefs surrounding the wild pig and wild boar, as they are not native to the Americas, and were introduced by the Spanish in the 16th century. Often indigenous stories of bear hunts merged with wild pig hunts after introduction to North America as the two animals were both famously feared by hunters. Across Europe, however, there are tons of legends about the fierceness of boars and the danger of boar hunts. The animal almost reached the status of deity for many people, rightly so, early on in our history when on the boar hunt it’s the decisions of boar that determines whether or not you die. There are two different Stone Age European burial sites that include boar tusks as a part of the grave goods, showing the spiritual importance of the animal to our ancestors. One is the Bad Dürrenberg grave, the other is at Upton Lovell. Often the hero of a legend will need to face off with a boar in order to continue their quest, as in the Welsh tale from the Mabinogion where Culhwch seeks to win the hand of his beloved Olwen. Olwen’s father, Ysbaddaden, is a giant who issues Culhwch with a lengthy list of ridiculously difficult tasks to fulfill before he can marry Olwen. The final tasks are to cut Ysbaddaden’s hair and shave off his beard. The giant’s beard was so tough that to soften it Culhwch had to obtain the blood of the Black Witch. And the only thing sharp enough to cut the beard was the tusk of the wild boar Ysgithyrwn. After killing this boar, Culhwch (with help from his cousin Arthur), had to get the only scissors and comb up to the task of dealing with the giant’s hair. These just happened to be between the ears of Twrch Trwth, an Irish king who had been transformed into an irate boar with poisonous bristles. In Greek mythology killing the mythic Erymanthian Boar was one of the Twelve Labors of Hercules. In Norse mythology the golden-bristled boar Gullinbursti was friend to the god Freyr:

“Sindri laid a pigskin in the hearth and bade Brokkr blow, and did not cease work until he took out of the hearth that which he had laid therein. But when he went out of the smithy, while the other dwarf was blowing, straightway a fly settled upon his hand and stung: yet he blew on as before, until the smith took the work out of the hearth; and it was a boar, with mane and bristles of gold. … Then Brokkr brought forward his gifts: … to Freyr he gave the boar, saying that it could run through air and water better than any horse, and it could never become so dark with night or gloom of the Murky Regions that there should not be sufficient light where he went, such was the glow from its mane and bristles.” In the Appalachian and Ozark mountains tales about pig or razorback hunts abound. It seems like every hunter has a story about the pig that nearly killed him. Usually these stories are recounted in great detail around a big fire, slowly cooking the very pig in the story. In one story the razorback even merges with the European bogeyman named “Bloody Bones”. Here’s the story as retold by S.E. Schlosser: Way back in the deep woods there lived a scrawny old woman who had a reputation for being the best conjuring woman in the Ozarks. With her bedraggled black-and-gray hair, funny eyes – one yellow and one green – and her crooked nose, Old Betty was not a pretty picture, but she was the best there was at fixing what ailed a man, and that was all that counted. Old Betty’s house was full of herbs and roots and bottles filled with conjuring medicine. The walls were lined with strange books brimming with magical spells. Old Betty was the only one living in the Hollow who knew how to read; her granny, who was also a conjurer, had taught her the skill as part of her magical training. Just about the only friend Old Betty had was a tough, mean, ugly old razorback hog that ran wild around her place. It rooted so much in her kitchen garbage that all the leftover spells started affecting it. Some folks swore up and down that the old razorback hog sometimes walked upright like man. One fellow claimed he’d seen the pig sitting in the rocker on Old Betty’s porch, chattering away to her while she stewed up some potions in the kitchen, but everyone discounted that story on account of the fellow who told it was a little too fond of moonshine. “Raw Head” was the name Old Betty gave the razorback, referring maybe to the way the ugly creature looked a bit like some of the dead pigs come butchering time down in Hog-Scald Hollow. The razorback didn’t mind the funny name. Raw Head kept following Old Betty around her little cabin and rooting up the kitchen leftovers. He’d even walk to town with her when she came to the local mercantile to sell her home remedies. Well, folks in town got so used to seeing Raw Head and Old Betty around the town that it looked mighty strange one day around hog-driving time when Old Betty came to the mercantile without him. “Where’s Raw Head?” the owner asked as he accepted her basket full of home-remedy potions. The liquid in the bottles swished in an agitate manner as Old Betty said: “I ain’t seen him around today, and I’m mighty worried. You seen him here in town?” “Nobody’s seen him around today. They would’ve told me if they did,” the mercantile owner said. “We’ll keep a lookout fer you.” “That’s mighty kind of you. If you see him, tell him to come home straightaway,” Old Betty said. The mercantile owner nodded agreement as he handed over her weekly pay. Old Betty fussed to herself all the way home. It wasn’t like Raw Head to disappear, especially not the day they went to town. The man at the mercantile always saved the best scraps for the mean old razorback, and Raw Head never missed a visit. When the old conjuring woman got home, she mixed up a potion and poured it onto a flat plate. “Where’s that old hog got to?” she asked the liquid. It clouded over and then a series of pictures formed. First, Old Betty saw the good-for-nothing hunter that lived on the next ridge sneaking around the forest, rounding up razorback hogs that didn’t belong to him. One of the hogs was Raw Head. Then she saw him taking the hogs down to Hog-Scald Hollow, where folks from the next town were slaughtering their razorbacks. Then she saw her hog, Raw Head, slaughtered with the rest of the pigs and hung up for gutting. The final picture in the liquid was the pile of bloody bones that had once been her hog, and his scraped-clean head lying with the other hogsheads in a pile. Old Betty was infuriated by the death of her only friend. It was murder to her, plain and simple. Everyone in three counties knew that Raw Head was her friend, and that lazy, hog-stealing, good-for-nothing hunter on the ridge was going to pay for slaughtering him.

Now Old Betty tried to practice white conjuring most of the time, but she knew the dark secrets too. She pulled out an old, secret book her granny had given her and turned to the very last page. She lit several candles and put them around the plate containing the liquid picture of Raw Head and his bloody bones. Then she began to chant: “Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones.” The light from the windows disappeared as if the sun had been snuffed out like a candle. Dark clouds billowed into the clearing where Old Betty’s cabin stood, and the howl of dark spirits could be heard in the wind that pummeled the treetops. “Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones.” Betty continued the chant until a bolt of silver lightning left the plate and streaked out threw the window, heading in the direction of Hog-Scald Hollow. When the silver light struck Raw Head’s severed head, which was piled on the hunter’s wagon with the other hog heads, it tumbled to the ground and rolled until it was touching the bloody bones that had once inhabited its body. As the hunter’s wagon rumbled away toward the ridge where he lived, the enchanted Raw Head called out: “Bloody bones, get up and dance!” Immediately, the bloody bones reassembled themselves into the skeleton of a razorback hog walking upright, as Raw Head had often done when he was alone with Old Betty. The head hopped on top of his skeleton and Raw Head went searching through the woods for weapons to use against the hunter. He borrowed the sharp teeth of a dying panther, the claws of a long-dead bear, and the tail from a rotting raccoon and put them over his skinned head and bloody bones. Then Raw Head headed up the track toward the ridge, looking for the hunter who had slaughtered him. Raw Head slipped passed the thief on the road and slid into the barn where the hunter kept his horse and wagon. Raw Head climbed up into the loft and waited for the hunter to come home. It was dusk when the hunter drove into the barn and unhitched his horse. The horse snorted in fear, sensing the presence of Raw Head in the loft. Wondering what was disturbing his usually-calm horse, the hunter looked around and saw a large pair of eyes staring down at him from the darkness in the loft. The hunter frowned, thinking it was one of the local kids fooling around in his barn. “Land o’ Goshen, what have you got those big eyes fer?” he snapped, thinking the kids were trying to scare him with some crazy mask. “To see your grave,” Raw Head rumbled very softly. The hunter snorted irritably and put his horse into the stall. “Very funny. Ha,ha,” The hunter said. When he came out of the stall, he saw Raw Head had crept forward a bit further. Now his luminous yellow eyes and his bears claws could clearly be seen. “Land o’ Goshen, what have you got those big claws fer?” he snapped. “You look ridiculous.” “To dig your grave…” Raw Head intoned softly, his voice a deep rumble that raised the hairs on the back of the hunter’s neck. He stirred uneasily, not sure how the crazy kid in his loft could have made such a scary sound. If it really was a crazy kid. Feeling a little spooked, he hurried to the door and let himself out of the barn. Raw Head slipped out of the loft and climbed down the side of the barn behind him. With nary a rustle to reveal his presence, Raw Head raced through the trees and up the path to a large, moonlight rock. He hid in the shadow of the huge stone so that the only things showing were his gleaming yellow eyes, his bear claws, and his raccoon tail. When the hunter came level with the rock on the side of the path, he gave a startled yelp. Staring at Raw Head, he gasped: “You nearly knocked the heart right out of me, you crazy kid! Land o’ Goshen, what have you got that crazy tail fer?” “To sweep your grave…” Raw Head boomed, his enchanted voice echoing through the woods, getting louder and louder with each echo. The hunter took to his heels and ran for his cabin. He raced passed the old well-house, passed the wood pile, over the rotting fence and into his yard. But Raw Head was faster. When the hunter reached his porch, Raw Head leapt from the shadows and loomed above him. The hunter stared in terror up at Raw Head’s gleaming yellow eyes in the ugly razorback hogshead, his bloody bone skeleton with its long bear claws, sweeping raccoon’s tail and his gleaming sharp panther teeth. “Land o’ Goshen, what have you got those big teeth fer?” he gasped desperately, stumbling backwards from the terrible figure before him. “To eat you up, like you wanted to eat me!” Raw Head roared, descending upon the good-for-nothing hunter. The murdering thief gave one long scream in the moonlight. Then there was silence, and the sound of crunching. Nothing more was ever seen or heard of the lazy hunter who lived on the ridge. His horse also disappeared that night. But sometimes folks would see Raw Head roaming through the forest in the company of his friend Old Betty. And once a month, on the night of the full moon, Raw Head would ride the hunter’s horse through town, wearing the old man’s blue overalls over his bloody bones with a hole cut-out for his raccoon tail. In his bloody, bear-clawed hands, he carried his raw, razorback hogshead, lifting it high against the full moon for everyone to see. Just the other day I even found a poem about the fabled Arkansas razorback from journalist and poet Fred W. Allsopp: Folks talk about the Razor-back In terms of deep derision. The porcine is a crack-a-jack, If you rate my decision. He walks away a suckling pig, And gambles in the woods; He finds ripe mast and worms will dig In fertile neighborhoods. Dogs find him nimble as the fleas. He seldom needs be fed; His simple life precludes the ease That kills the thoroughbred. When hick’ry nuts and acorns fail To fall upon the ground, His sides and snout the trees assail And shake nuts all around. In six months by the almanac, Unless corralled before, Returns to us a razor-back, Four hundred pounds or more. A little corn mixed with his swill Will soon the hog prepare To grace the farmer’s autumn kill And stock the smoke-house bare. Rich sausages to fill a vat The sweetest hams e’er eaten, With steaks of red and lumps of fat In side-meat never beaten. Let folks speak of the Razor-back In terms of deep derision, But that he is crack-a-jack Is still my ripe decision.

#ozarks #traditional witchcraft #folk magic #folklore #Ozark Folklore #ozark folk magic #ozark folkways #ozark folk medicine #traditional healing #traditional medicine #razorback #feral hog #ozark healing traditions

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tessatechaitea · 4 years

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Cerebus #13 (1979)

This cover reminds me of at least three different nights in college.

One time in college, a drunk friend of mine fell UP the stairs and injured himself. One time in college, a guy down the hall invited me to drink with him and he was telling me about all the dead cockroaches he found under his dresser when he suddenly just vomited all over the front of his shirt. One time in college, I snuck into the top level of a factory in Los Banos which was really just a bunch of creaky catwalks in the dark and I stole their fire extinguisher (I did not go to college in Los Banos. Do they even have a college?!). One time in college, a girl in my Steinbeck class told me all about this cartoon she was watching called Sailor Moon and I desperately fell in love with her (and I also started watching the cartoon and super fell in love with that). One time in college, my friend Soy Rakelson looked at me confused after leaving our Lit Theory class and he blurted out, "Why doesn't he just tell us what is true?!" One time in college, my teacher wrote on one of my homework assignments "Please speak up in class more!" because it was a humanities course focusing on American History, Art, and Literature and all the dolts who did speak up in class were business majors and idiots. One time in college, I...no, you know what. I'm not telling that story. Never mind. One time in college, I went with a friend to a meeting where they were starting a new fraternity and everybody who was starting it automatically was in but my friend just missed that cut off and when they held the vote, he didn't make the cut. He left hurt and angry and pleaded with me to stay after he left to maybe find out more information about why he didn't make it. When they asked me if I were interested in joining, I laughed and said, "Fuck that," and left. One time in college, I had to describe my Halloween costume to my creative writing teacher because she was blind (I was Alice Cooper in Wonderland). That same day in college, my Children's Lit professor just laughed when she saw me and said, "Great costume." I wish I had a picture of it. Basically I wore the Alice blue dress and smock deal and Alice Cooper's make-up while carrying the decapitated and bloody head of the white rabbit. One time in college, I got wasted on Long Island Iced Teas at the Portland Rose Festival with my thirty-something year old coworker and we wound up running around the deck of a battleship when one of the Navy guys invited us on. One time in college, I sat next to my lesbian professor of 19th Century American Literature at the movies where we laughed and joked the whole way through Demi Moore's The Scarlet Letter. One time in college, I read my version of a scene from Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest in the style of Shakespeare and everybody after felt too intimidated to read theirs. Man, some of these stories are really sad! And I've purposefully left out the thousand or so stories that would have begun "One time in college during our Warhammer campaign...". Look, I really agonized about the punctuation at the end of that sentence but it wouldn't have been true to the punctuation's job performance to put all four periods within the quotes! I just realized I forgot to discuss the Aardvark Comments at the end of the last issue. It seems the expansion to two pages has stuck. The only part I remember was Dave Sim explaining that because of his nervous breakdown, he actually spent four days in a psyche ward. So I guess he went way past just shitting himself. Dave's Swords of Cerebus essay reveals one important fact: Necross the Mad was based on Exidor from Mork & Mindy. The issue begins with a bird shitting on Cerebus' snout. That's a portent I should use more often in my roller playing campaigns. Roller Playing Games should also have a simple rage statistic. Sort of like a saving throw but it gets harder and harder to save against every time some minor annoyance aggravates the player until they simply explode, becoming so careless from rage that it reflects in all of their dice roles. Or is that simply what going berserk is for Berserkers or Barbarians? Plus, there are so many Roller Playing Games, I'm sure one of them uses those rules in their system. Cerebus is captured by some farmers and taken to a Priest of Tarim to determine what sort of sorcerous monstrosity he is.

Cerebus pleads future violence.

The priest decides to dump Cerebus in the foyer of the castle of Necross the Mad, a sorcerer who has been plaguing the villagers of Lower Felda. His plan is that they'll simply kill each other and he won't have to deal with them anymore. Praise Tarim! Sometimes I wish I had become a priest but I don't think I would have made it through Divinity School. I'm fairly certain everybody would frown on my constantly yelling "Pshaw!" after every few passages from The Bible. I probably don't have to admit this because nobody was around to witness it but I just hopped up to turn on the light and then danced around humming the theme song from I Dream of Jeannie. One time in college, I went to see Ken Kesey speak after which he and his (new?) Merry Pranksters performed a sort of The Wizard of Oz play but about climate change. It was such a train wreck that halfway through, my friend Aaron Voorhees streaked across the stage. Or kind of duck waddled across the stage since he didn't take his pants off, he just dropped them around his ankles. The priest of Tarim has a lackey take Cerebus into the lair of Necross and it doesn't go too well.

Yikes. I'm more evil than this guy.

Sometimes I run outside in the morning to throw out garbage or something and I won't put my pants on. I figure it doesn't matter too much because I wear boxers and those are pretty much shorts. But today in the early morning hours, I was outside with my cat Gravy (on a leash) and I was up on the little hill in the backyard under the tree which enables me to see over all the backyard fences and two houses down, I caught sight of the woman there running back inside in her red panties. It was pretty awesome. I told that story because this guy's confession of looking down women's dresses reminded me of the moment and also because I wanted to tell people that I saw a woman in her underwear. This guy also confesses to having "impure thoughts about farm animals" which I totally have never done except in a rhetorical or theoretical or maybe even philosophical conversation. What I mean is I've never thought "I wonder what it would be like to fuck a goat?" but I have said to friends "You would probably fuck a goat, right?" Necross the Mad materializes so that he can speak with Cerebus (after disintegrating the guy who wants to fuck goats or sheep or chickens). Necross, being mad, decides to prove to Cerebus that he isn't mad. But his proof that he isn't mad is just more evidence that he is. That's what happens when you're mad; you're not the best advocate for yourself. Necross introduces Cerebus to Thrunk, a sixteen foot tall stone golem which Necross intends to bring to life at some point. That some point is soon and not in the way Necross intended because in a few pages, Necross is going to be killed and do an emergency transfer of his spirit into Thrunk.

Okay, less of an emergency transfer and more like an accident.

The priest's mob rushes into the tower where Thrunk begins to smash them all into jelly. While that's happening, Cerebus decides it's time to leave. As he wanders away to more sane territories, Necross the Mad realizes he's trapped in the only reinforced room of his tower. But if you think that's the end of Thrunk, you haven't read Church & State yet! Aardvark Comments just proves that a lot of people were discovering that Cerebus was one of the best comics on the market in 1979. Reading the Cerebus phone book in one sitting never allowed me to realize just how quickly this comic book finds itself and begins gaining momentum. It's truly inspired that Dave Sim, by issue thirteen, has created so many wonderful characters and written so many gags that stuck for decades inside my head. And I'm not a quote person at all! I'm more the type who thinks saying something new and unique and true to myself is dozens of times better than puking out some pop culture reference that everybody will recognize. Sure, I do it sometimes! But when I do, I do it all M. Night Shyamacock style! Cerebus #13 Rating: B+. I've given a lot of issues A grades so I thought I would change it up. This one is actually probably an A as well. I especially loved how Thrunk complains about the bottoms of his feet being sticky after stomping all of the farmers to death. We all how annoying that is, right?

#Cerebus #Dave Sim

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coeurvrai · 4 years

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Bryce complains about the matching tattoos that she and Danika got while she was drunk. She mentions that because Danika is a fully-blooded shifter or Vanir, she heals faster than her, who is half-Vanir because she’s half-Fae. I still don’t know why she’s using Vanir, of all the terms, but this is what the world is now.

Danika wants to use the showers downstairs in the archives.

“What is that on you?”

Danika scowled, the angular planes of her face scrunching. “I had to break up a fight between a satyr and a nightstalker.” She bared her white teeth at the black substance crusting her hands. “Guess which one spewed its juices onto me.”

Bryce snorted and gestured to the archives door. “Shower’s yours. There are some clean clothes in the bottom drawer of the desk down there.”

I love how Maas has that whole glossary in the front and then just throws in more creatures because why include them when you can just- not. Like we haven’t even met half of the species on that list and now we’re gonna have to add more to it. Also, is a nightstalker something else or is a nightstalker slang for a vampire, or “vampyr” in this case?

Also okay, the oil-y ammonia liquid on her is like blood or saliva or something. Then what the hell is the streaks of sapphires, amethysts, and roses?

Danika has a tattoo on her neck of a horned, grinning wolf that signifies that she is apart of the “Pack of Devils”. I am rolling my eyes and I am so sorry to 10 year old me and my obsession with wolves and werewolves. Apparently the sword Danika carries is famous. Bryce makes unrelated comments about the gallery’s generator.

Bryce had always wondered why Jesiba bothered with an old-fashioned generator—until the citywide firstlight outage last week. When the power had failed, only the generator had kept the mechanical locks in place during the looting that followed, when creeps had rushed in from the Meat Market, bombarding the gallery’s front door with counterspells to break through the enchantments.

Also maybe it’s just me and also the fact that I don’t live in a world full of fantasy creatures but I haven’t heard of people looting during power outages. But hey, Jesiba seems like the type of witch to lean towards old-fashioned practical solutions. Don’t fix it if it ain’t broken kind of deal.

Anyways, Bryce gets back on topic and infers that Danika is meeting with the people in charge of the city.

In the five years since they’d met as freshmen at Crescent City University, Bryce could count on one hand the number of times Danika had been called in for a meeting with the seven people important enough to merit a shower and change of clothes. Even while delivering reports to Danika’s grandfather, the Prime of the Valbaran wolves, and to Sabine, her mother, Danika usually wore that leather jacket, jeans, and whatever vintage band T-shirt wasn’t dirty.

Of course, it pissed off Sabine to no end, but everything about Danika—and Bryce—pissed off the Alpha of the Scythe Moon Pack, chief among the shifter units in the city’s Auxiliary.

Sabine or rather Sabina is a Roman name, I know that much. I am confused right now. She just mentioned that Danika is apart of “Pack of Devils”, is that just a nickname for the Scythe Moon pack or whatever? Also if Danika’s mum is the alpha, then what does that make her grandfather? What is a Prime? What are the Valbaran wolves? Is a Prime another word for city head? I am confusion.

Bryce goes on about Danika’s mother being her dad’s heir but Danika’s grandpa obviously favouring Danika by giving her the sword (that is a family heirloom) on her eighteenth birthday, over Danika’s mother. If you were wondering, Danika studied history with Bryce.

Danika turned, her caramel eyes shuttered. “Philip Briggs is being released today.”

Bryce started. “What?”

“They’re letting him go on some gods-damned technicality. Someone fucked up the paperwork. We’re getting the full update in the meeting.” She clenched her slim jaw, the glow from the firstlights in the glass sconces along the stairwell bouncing off her dirty hair. “It’s so fucked up.”

Bryce’s stomach churned. The human rebellion remained confined to the northern reaches of Pangera, the sprawling territory across the Haldren Sea, but Philip Briggs had done his best to bring it over to Valbara. “You and the pack busted him right in his little rebel bomb lab, though.”

There is something so comical to me about the phrase “she clenched her slim jaw”, like ah yes, it’s important that we know Danika has a slim jaw. But ofc we have humans rebelling because Maas lacks an original bone in her body. Also Valbara is the country/continent that they live on, I feel like that’s an important thing that should’ve been established in the map unless I’m just blind.

Danika tapped her booted foot on the green carpet. “Bureaucratic fucking nonsense.”

“He was going to blow up a club. You literally found his blueprints for blowing up the White Raven.” As one of the most popular nightclubs in the city, the loss of life would have been catastrophic. Briggs’s previous bombings had been smaller, but no less deadly, all designed to trigger a war between the humans and Vanir to match the one raging in Pangera’s colder climes. Briggs made no secret of his goal: a global conflict that would cost the lives of millions on either side. Lives that were expendable if it meant a possibility for humans to overthrow those who oppressed them—the magically gifted and long-lived Vanir and, above them, the Asteri, who ruled the planet Midgard from the Eternal City in Pangera.

But Danika and the Pack of Devils had stopped the plot. She’d busted Briggs and his top supporters, all part of the Keres rebels, and spared innocents from their brand of fanaticism.

THE HUMANS ARE OPPRESSED! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HISTORY OF ACOTAR’S WORLDBUILDING, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

Also I don’t trust Maas to write terrorists or terrorism with grace, tact, and a lot of respect. Like, literally look at ACOTAR and TOG.

And apparently there are something called the Asteri, which is completely different to the Vanir, and the Eternal City is not Crescent City but is also something completely different. Also climes is a word, Google tells me, and all I can think is just... there are so many other words you could’ve used.

As one of the most elite shifter units in Crescent City’s Auxiliary, the Pack of Devils patrolled the Old Square, making sure drunken, handsy tourists didn’t become drunken, dead tourists when they approached the wrong person. Making sure the bars and cafés and music halls and shops stayed safe from whatever lowlife had crawled into town that day. And making sure people like Briggs were in prison.

Jesus christ, this is like RWBY all over again, where the only Faunus shown fighting back against systematic oppression were terrorists or former terrorists. Also I don’t get what auxiliary means. Or rather, I know what auxiliary means, but I don’t know what it’s supposed to be. Is it supposed to be related to the Roman auxiliary? Or are they really backup support? Are they police?

Anyways, we get a HUGE exposition dumb right at the start of this page, and just holy fuck, there is such a thing as too much worldbuilding.

She would. Even if Danika had to snarl in Micah Domitus’s face, she’d get her point across. There weren’t many who’d dare piss off the Archangel of Crescent City, but Danika wouldn’t hesitate. And given that all seven Heads of the City would be at this meeting, the odds of that happening were high. Things tended to escalate swiftly when they were in one room. There was little love lost between the six lower Heads in Crescent City, the metropolis formally known as Lunathion. Each Head controlled a specific part of the city: the Prime of the wolves in Moonwood, the Fae Autumn King in Five Roses, the Under-King in the Bone Quarter, the Viper Queen in the Meat Market, the Oracle in the Old Square, and the River Queen—who very rarely made an appearance—representing the House of Many Waters and her Blue Court far beneath the Istros River’s turquoise surface. She seldom deigned to leave it.

The humans in Asphodel Meadows had no Head. No seat at the table. Philip Briggs had found more than a few sympathizers because of it.

But Micah, Head of the Central Business District, ruled over them all. Beyond his city titles, he was Archangel of Valbara. Ruler of this entire fucking territory, and answerable only to the six Asteri in the Eternal City, the capital and beating heart of Pangera. Of the entire planet of Midgard. If anyone could keep Briggs in prison, it would be him.

There’s so much to unpack here, I literally don’t know where to start. So Danika’s grandfather is in charge of all the wolf shifters in the country apparently. But what about all the other types of shifters? Are there only wolf shifters? Is it because wolf shifters are the most common? If there are only wolf shifters, why wouldn’t you just call them fucking werewolves or whatever? Especially when you’ve had shapeshifters in your previous series *cough* LYSANDRA *cough*

Also some of these sound like titles to be inherited, while others sound like epithets. Are all titles inherited or are some elected? Also Bryce sounds so unsympathetic towards the humans’ cause, when she herself is half-human. Does her being half human affect her in any shape or form? Is she discriminated against because of it? Does she feel othered by both humans and Fae? Is her being half-Human, half-Fae at all plot relevant?

And what the fuck are Asteri?

Anyways, assisting Lehabah in protecting the books in the archives downstairs is a chimera named Syrinx that Bryce’s boss purchased. Danika and Lehabah engage in some banter and Lehabah mentions that she doesn’t wear clothes because “they don’t pair well when you’re made of flame”.

... the phone on the desk began ringing. She had a good idea who it would be.

Heels sinking into the plush carpeting, Bryce reached the phone before it went to audiomail, sparing herself a five-minute lecture. “Hi, Jesiba.”

A beautiful, lilting female voice answered, “Please tell Danika Fendyr that if she continues to use the supply closet as her own personal locker, I will turn her into a lizard.”

Audiomail? What the fuck is wrong with voicemail? Why use audiomail? It doesn’t make your worldbuilding any richer.

Anyways, that’s the end of the first chapter. It’s Fendyr instead of Fendir, bc I guess so Maas can claim she isn’t entirely reusing names, even though Fendir is the name of one of the wyverns in TOG.

#sarah reads hoeab #sarah reads cc #anti ccity #anti sjm

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uchuuryokou · 5 years

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The one in which X narrates the coffee shop getting a new employee (with puppets)

Right, so how should we begin?

In the middle of nowhere, there is a small theatre. If we were to set the scene it would go like this: a street at night in a big city; wind whips around gathering the clouds above in preparation for, well a storm. You could almost say that the night was, dark and stormy. That’s where two of our marionettes begin their journey. The first one, we should call him X (it’s a coincidence, I promise) is talking to the other one that, for his own personal safety, shall remain nameless.

“So, Jasper,” X says “how’s the job been?”

“You know how it’s been,” the other puppet answers “You’ve been there. You bothered me the entire time.”

X waves his little puppet-y hands in outrage. “You hurt me. I am hurt. I came to support you, as a good friend should and that’s how you repay me?”

The other puppet puts his face in his hands. “You ordered 7 lattes before discovering that you have no money to pay for them, X. I spent forever preparing them.”

“At least you could practice!”

“I’ve been working there for at least 3 years. I don’t need practice.” Little puppet wiggles around in its black hoodie. “I’ve got enough problems of my own without you trying to help.”

“Is it the new girl?”

“It’s the new girl.”

“She seemed nice,” The X puppet mentions “She gave me a coffee.”

The night grows even stormier when the rain starts; tiny little drops of water hit the sidewalk, the passerby’s and the puppets. We can see umbrellas being opened, as everyone rushed to get to their exponentially dryer homes.

“She shouldn’t have. We don’t just hand out coffee to people who don’t have any money, you know that?”

The hoodie puppet seems irritated. X slowly and awkwardly pats it on the back, perhaps not understanding his friends problem, but at least trying to sympathize with it. He was always so empathetic, X. (Not that I know him, of course. He just seems like a good guy, you know?)

The scene changes as we travel back in time, to this morning. The city folds away, and instead we see the interior of a coffee shop. It’s a pretty cosy place overall; decorated in warm colours it had a welcoming atmosphere. In the shop there are a few customers; a woman in a white dress is sitting close to the window, sipping on a cup of herbal tea, next to the counter another woman with streaks of blue in her hair was chatting to Jasper; a few more sat in the back.

(Obviously, they are all puppets, but I don’t need to remind you of that, do I? Good.)

X enters the shop several seconds before the commotion starts and makes his order; not long after that we see another two enter the shop and one of them is Jasper’s boss, Nelli. Now, she and Jasper don’t really like each other; they don’t see eye to eye on a lot of issues but she is not the only owner of the shop- Victor is just away for business reasons at the moment. The two of them try to make their work interactions as painless as possible; although they’ve butted heads more than a few times.

“Annabelle, this is Jasper. Jasper, this is Annabelle, your new co-worker. Be nice.” Nelli says, and Jasper sights. He knew that his bosses were looking for someone new since their last hire left pretty quickly.

Annabelle has a shirt that says “Eat the Rich” and looks somewhat nervous. There is a hushed exchange between the three of them (that X, unfortunately could not hear; the little puppet makes his way over to the counter and tries his best, but all we can hear are murmurs) and Annabelle is ushered quickly in the back, while Jasper finishes preparing the orders.

Another few minutes and Annabelle appears again, this time wearing a worker’s uniform, similar to Jasper’s. Another thing that Nelli took care of; if it came to Victor, he would probably just buy some shirts and be done with it, but those clothes were designed by her especially for this specific purpose. Even Jasper begrudgingly gives her credit for it- they are easy to work in and the material is nice. Also it’s mostly black, which suits Jasper’s general aesthetic quite nicely.

Noticing that Nelli is no longer inside (she doesn’t understand X’s artistic expression, she never did), X moves his way towards the counter.

“Hi! You’re Annabelle?”

“Yeah! Who are you?”

“That’s X,” Jasper interjects, the puppet leaning across the counter ominously. “Who is either leaving or paying for his order.”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that!” X laughs.

“Yeah!” Annabelle agrees. “I mean, he’s not doing anything wrong, is he?”

“That’s right! I like her, Jasper, you could take a page out of her book!” X puts his hands on his hips and Annabelle laughs.

“Get out, before Nelli sees you. Ok, here is one order for table 3. Can you handle this?”

“Of course I can! I was a waiter before! Which table is 3 again?”

“The one by the… statue thingy.” Jasper points and hands her the order. X knows he believes in learning through practice, so the guidance Annabelle is going to receive is probably going to be a lot like this. Poor thing. Poor, poor thing.

She passes Jasper’s little test with flying colours, and by the time she returns, he looks a little less grumpy than usual.

“Ok, now show me how to use this.” She makes her way over to the Coffee Machine™. The thing about the Coffee Machine™ was the fact that it’s pretty finicky old thing, and the fact that Jasper could actually work with it was 50% experience and 50% a pure miracle. Victor has promised them a new Coffee Machine™ a year ago, but he seemed to be a little sentimental when it came to this one. It was the first thing he bought for the shop after all.

“Maybe you shouldn’t touch that… yet.” Jasper quickly makes his way over to it, trying to stop Annabelle from touching it.

“Why?”

“It breaks easily. We should’ve replaced it a while ago, really.”

“Well, if I’m going to work here, I need to learn how to do it, right?” Jasper tried his best, but Annabelle is, in fact, correct. Befriending Coffee Machine™ was the only way to keep the job. They all knew it. So Jasper sighs and slowly shows all the necessary steps.

The new employee nods and then asks a few questions and then nods again.

“Alright. Your turn.”

X could see the anxiety seeping off Jasper as Annabelle tries to repeat the process. It’s going along quite nicely, and then, all of the sudden…

BOOM!

Well no, it didn’t really blow up. It was more of a very loud crack, which turned all of the heads in the store.

Next, the sequence of events is as follows:

Jasper immediately rushes forwards to try and stop any leakage that might happen, just as Annabelle tries to step back. They of course bump into each other, and when they’re trying to not lose the fight with gravity, Nelli runs out of the backroom.

(And X steals a biscuit. Maybe. Well it’s not stealing, really, more like charity. He can’t afford it after all. He’s sure Jasper would give him one anyways if he asked really nicely.)

“What is going on here?!” Nelli gasps. “Jasper!”

While they get into a very quiet argument about whose fault it was (no need to further disturb the customers after all) Annabelle turns to X and gives him all of the coffee the Coffee Machine™ managed to made before it broke.

“You think they’re gonna fire me?” she asks, a little bit worried.

“Naaah, that happens every… well I wanted to say every week but more like every two days. You’re fiiine. As Victor likes to say, everything’s fiiiine.”

“Victor?”

“Yeah, Victor Temple, your other boss?”

“Oh yeah, wait his name is… Temple? You sure?”

“Absolutely sure.”

The horror falls on Annabelle’s face. “Oh, no,” she whispers.

The theatre’s curtain slowly falls, and the puppets go to their little homes to lay down in their little puppet beds for the night.

Later, perhaps, there’ll be another story.

#la by night #jasper #annabelle #nelli #x #coffee shop au

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san--shine · 5 years

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Don’t take my sunshine away

This is for @a-nik7 or @atiny-treasure who wanted me to write a Nerd to bad boy AU. It’s a lot softer than I intended to but I hope you like it. ~

- Wooyoung always was the softest boy around you. You knew him since elementary school, approaching the shy small boy at lunch time when it seems that there was no one else who wanted to be around him. You shared your meals together, tell each other stories and laugh.

- Since that day you were best friends. Even as he started to make friends with other guys of your class like Yunho and Mingi he stayed at your side. Always made sure you are okay first with your other friends before going of to play with the boys. And when he decided that he hasn’t seen you enough today he asked his mom if he could go to your place or if you could come with him.

- As the years go on, he found more courage. Talking to more outside on the playground. But inside the classroom he mostly stayed by himself, the only one close to him were you.

- It was in third grade that he got called “Nerd” for the first time.

- Fourth grade when the kids started to bully him because of his big glasses and knowledge. The only thing he wouldn’t nag him on was you. But you got asked often why you would hang out with such a loser like him. But you always smiled your sweetest smile saying: “He’s the best person I know on this planet. I love him lots.”

- You started being the reason for him to go to school. He smiled seeing you. He never complained if your friends dragged you away. He was happy with just seeing you smile.

- But then the bullies went to far one day. They were waiting for you both outside of the school, trapping you as they circle around you. “Get away from him y/n.” “This loser doesn’t deserve friends.” As they pulled you away from him you didn’t know what to do. So, after watching and crying and begging them to stop you ran to his home which was closest. You screamed at his mom that something terrible happens and she was quick in following you.

- But when you arrived at the place you only found a sobbing Wooyoung. Broken glasses in his hands and scratches everywhere. His mom brought him to a hospital. And even tho she assured you that he will be fine it was the last day you saw your best friend. No one opened the door when you came to deliver homework and after a few weeks the teacher announced that family Jung has moved away out of personal reasons.

- Your heart broke on that day.

- It was years later you “saw” him again.

- You sat in the canteen of college with Yunho and Mingi, who you stayed friends with ever since Wooyoung was gone. They couldn’t fill his place, but they helped you through all of it.

- You even had a small circle of friends since you started college one year ago. Consisting of 2 other girls, Yunho, Mingi, and two other guys named Jongho and Yeosang.

- It was in one of the seminars only you and Yunho were sitting in, since no one of your other friends cared about this subject, when two guys entered the room. One had black hair with red streaks in it, he was wearing a yellow and black patterned turtleneck and a leather jacket. The other had blond hair, wearing a white shirt under a black denim jacket and a small choker around his neck.

- Because you sat in the middle of the room but at the side you had the perfect position to examine the two new guys. And while your eyes scanned upwards you were able to meet the black-haired guys eyes and a smirk appeared on his lips.

- You looked away fast, praying to god that nothing would happen and poking Yunho to get his attention. When he finally looked at you, you saw a surprised look at his face. But just as you wanted to ask him about it the professor came in and the room become silent. You let your eyes wander across the room, but you couldn’t find the two guys, so they had to sit somewhere behind you. Great.

- It was a 2-hour long lecture. So naturally you started to get bored after one hour, so you started to roam in your backpack for your special notebook. It was like a diary of some sorts. Whenever you were bored, wanted to talk, something happened, or basically anything you would write or draw in it. Everything you wrote in there was for Wooyoung. You started this in sixth grade when you started to miss your best friend too much. By now you had a lot of books all in honor of your best friend, hoping that someday you would see him again.

- What you didn’t know was that the black-haired guy was sitting directly behind you, reading everything you wrote. While his friend couldn’t be bothered, only starring out of the window.

- It was a few days later when you were alone in the library. Sitting at a big table you tried to catch up on something you missed in one of your last lectures. At the same table sat San, you knew his name by now since Yunho wouldn’t shut up about him, but you never talked to him before.

- Apparently San belonged to the new bad boy group on campus. They were 4 guys. But you only knew 3 by name. San, Hongjoong and Seonghwa. And then there was the guy you saw earlier this week, but you didn’t catch his face and never saw him again.

- When you asked the guys about them, they just smiled to themselves. Saying that the fourth one was quite shy but a bad boy, nonetheless. The four guys already got in trouble three times this week, and it was the first week of the new semester.

- But after hours of sitting in the library you really needed to go to the bathroom, so you asked him if he would be so kind to watch over your stuff until you were back to which he just nodded until he flicked through his book some more.

- You didn’t know what he was doing there in the first place since he didn’t seem to study. He just showed up shortly after you started studying and hasn’t left his place once.

- When you came home that night you were already tired as hell. But you wanted to write some more for Wooyoung, especially about that strange guy. But as you searched for your notebook you couldn’t find it anywhere in your backpack. You started to panic, searching the whole room and even messaging Yunho and Mingi but they both didn’t answer. Of course.

- There could only be one place where it could be. The library. But you were sure you packed everything that was on the table. So, there was only one person who could have it. SAN. Luckily you would have the same seminar with him again on Monday. But that meant waiting 2 more days.

- So, on Monday you send Yunho in before you, saying you had something important to do before the seminar started.

- As soon as San and his friend came down the hallway you focused on San who apparently knew very well what you wanted. He said something to his friend and send him in while your stare could basically bring death to him by now.

- “Where is my notebook?” “I don’t know what you are talking about sunshine.” “Don’t play dumb. You were with me in the library. It's important to me. Give it back.” His teasing smile almost made you hit him. Hard. “What?!” “To sad I don’t have it anymore.” “You.. WHAT?!”

- But he only walked passed you now. His friend was standing behind the door, your notebook heavy in his backpack, listening to your furious words. But you didn’t notice him there while you glared at Sans back.

- You walked to Yunho and told him you had to get out of here. He looked confused and maybe a bit hurt because you left him alone, but he nodded, saying he would take notes for you.

- As you turn around you bump into someone, it was San’s friend. “What do you want?” “Nothing, I just wanted to hand this to you. I found it on Campus a few nights ago.” In his hands was your notebook, perfectly fine.

- You stared at it. Only manage to say a small thanks as you walk past him outside. Looking at the ground for the whole time. So, you couldn’t see him smile while looking after you.

- As soon as you were outside you looked for a quiet place, like a tree to sit under since it was quite sunny today. You sat down and looked at your notebook. It looked fine, like nothing happened to it. You reached for your backpack and collected your favorite pen while you decided to write your thought on the two last pages that you know where left.

- But when you open the book those pages where already full. There was a childrens drawing glued in and a small sketch of yourself on the one side and a few written sentences on the other side reading: “I’m sorry for leaving you. I never wanted any of this. But I’m here if you want me in your life again. Please? - Wooyoung.”

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wildtige429 · 5 years

Text

Crush

@lynea-kureji

This is how Toshi first met the girl of his dreams. I hope you would do some cute pics of the two together.

May contain references to Gravity Falls. And a touch of Jurassic Park.

--------

(Six Months Ago)

Toshi was hanging out in the lobby of St Olga’s whilst the other princesses show Star and Marco (as Princess Turdina, liberator of the oppressed princesses of St Olga’s), the new reform school that was once a prison and now turned into a place of self-acceptance, non-stop partying and brunching.

The young lizard hid from view because he felt embarrassed and nervous around so many girls of every kind, who are gushing and admiring him for his cool and good looks. He did stand out and gave them forced smiles at their way with some cool gestures pointing at them, spotting them swooning at how cool he is, and kept on walking out of the lobby. When he reaches the dining hall, he froze upon the sight of a very pretty elvish-looking princess.

“Oooh, a girl!” he shivered, temptation and delight swelling up and filling his brain. He realised what he is going through and took deep breaths to calm himself. He is going through what boy lizards, make it a Septarian or a Lacertian, are going through when they see a girl they like in coming of age.

The urge to mate.

“Calm down, Toshi,” he advised to himself, hiding behind a potted plant so the girl wouldn’t notice him, “Think normally. Don’t do anything lizard-related just like those lizard men from the anime, Overlord, cause it will make the moment super awkward, and be cool. Besides, what could happen?”

The moment the elvish girl stopped by the plant he’s hiding behind, he peeked through the leaves, wearing a calm (though really forced) grin on his snout. His sudden appearance was so sudden, the girl was taken back.

“Clever boy,” she whispered in fright.

“HI!” he greeted in a sudden loud voice, “NICE TO MEET YOU!!” He stuck out his hand to her for a handshake and he bared his sharp teeth through his creepily forced grin.

The girl’s reaction? She shrieked, threw the cup of punch she had in her hands at his face, and ran away screaming like a bat out of hell.

And Toshi’s reaction to his super awkward greeting? His face twists into a miserable frown and he moved back to hide behind the ferns so he can hide his shame and embarrassment.

However, unbeknownst to him, Marco and Star had witnessed what happened.

(Six Months Later)

“DUDE! YOU’RE SOCIALLY AWKWARD WITH GIRLS!!!!!????”

“Marco, please! Don’t shout like that,” Toshi whimpered, face buried into his pillow to hide his shame, “I don’t wanna think about that night.”

“How can you get so awkward with girls even though I’m a girl?” Star pointed out.

“If you were a Septarian or a Lacertian, you would understand!” Toshi cried, muffling his sob in the pillow.

“But still-! Dude, you need help on going out with girls! Or not you’re going to be single and awkward forever!” Marco suggested.

“HOW!?” the young lizard howled, lifting his head up and giving Marco the big sad lizard eyes that are brimming with tears, “I never been out with anybody for 20 years living like an outcast and fugitive from the law and treated like a villain like my DAD!”

The Hispanic smiled and rested his hand on his shoulder, “Tosh, you got me and Star. We’ve been out with a couple of people and we’ll help you get better in talking with girls.”

Toshi sniffed, rising up and wiping away his tears, “Thanks, guys. But I-I-I think it would be best if I ask my parents.”

“NO!” Marco and Star screamed, grabbing him and pulling him into a tight hold till their faces are squished side-by-side, “Toshi, if you want good dating advises -!” Star screeched.

“NEVER TAKE DATING ADVISES FROM PARENTS!!” Marco howled dramatically.

“Why? I thought and heard getting dating advises from parents will be better than friends’ dating advises,” he protested, pulling himself out of their hold, “I know, but sometimes dating advises from parents can get you into crazy trouble. I saw a friend did it by listening to his dad’s advice on how to hitch a girl and he ended up shunned by girls everywhere he goes,” Marco warned.

“And we don’t want you to end up in that same fate,” Star cried, hugging him.

“Speaking of my parents giving me dating advices, you should see this if you can trust them on giving me dating advices,” Toshi hopped off his bed and strode downstairs. A moment later, he came up with a family photo album and took out a picture from a page. He hands the photo to them, and they were stunned by what they see.

“WOAH!” they shouted in unison.

It was a picture of the young lizard’s parents together, when they were teenagers, celebrating a crazy party with the two in each others’ arms, their wide grins showing they are having fun.

“THAT’S your DAD!?” Marco gasped, pointing at the picture of Toffee as a teenager.

“HE’S HOT!!!” Star commented in stunned awe.

“I know, now you know where I got my good looks from,” Toshi rolled his eyes, dryly.

“Okay, we can trust you on getting help from your parents, but let’s just hope nothing bad happens, okay!?” Marco cautioned.

“Sure. Besides, sooner or later, I gotta take a drive on Razor in Mewni,” he said, “Need to.....clear my mind from all things.”

“Good thinking,” the two friends nodded in agreement.

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

(In Mewni)

“Razor, if you ever meet a beautiful she-dragon cycle one day, would you do something casually until it ended up so badly? Well.....if that ever happens, we’ll be the only guys who are socially awkward with girls for life. Bu hey, we still got each other right?”

The cybernetic-looking dragon cycle chuffed and growled in agreement, nuzzling his owner in the shoulder. Toshi chuckled at the gesture and patted his head as the two watched the horizon of the desert, sitting on a hill to watch the view of the sun setting.

“I already talked had the dating talk from mom and dad and Marco and Star just now,” he said to his dragon cycle, “All I have to do is calm down, take deep breaths and approach the girl like normal. Last time, I made myself look like a creepy stalker to that cute girl back at St Olga’s,” he sighed at that memory, “I wonder if I can apologise to her for scaring her. Maybe she won’t know me. Marco’s advise is girls’ like boys who are cool and kind, knowing full well he gets that with girls. Star’s is show the girls’ my talents and tell them about what I like, no matter if they don’t like anime or not. I just hope they don’t say Kamen Rider sucks and super childish.”

“But for Mom and Dad’s, it’s just be who I am and be patient when a girl talks to me and when you feel like doing something for her, you have to show her through actions. I remember that story of how Mom first met Dad. She began to love him later after he treated her as an equal when he made her part of his posse, especially on the days of war, made her his second-in-command. And Dad also told me, loyalty is what makes a girl like in a boy. I’m loyal. So I hope she is too.”

Razor nodded in understanding and agreement. It was getting late, so Toshi was about to mount Razor when the dragon heard a faint vroom of another dragon cycle. He turned his eyes to the direction and was smitten upon what he saw.

Well I guess you'd say What can make me feel this way? My girl (my girl, my girl) Talkin' 'bout my girl (my girl ooh)

A beautiful female dragon cycle with the most beautiful red and yellow scales came into view, sniffing a bush filled with sweet-smelling flowers. The female has dazzling green eyes, beautifully curved and arching black horns, a nice set of tusks, and a long tail that ends with a few spikes.

Hey hey hey Hey hey hey Ooh yeah

Razor knew what he’s feeling, even his eyes are showing signs of it. He’s in love with this beautiful she-dragon cycle. And without warning, just as Toshi was getting on the saddle, the dragon cycle zoomed off towards the female and the sudden action flipped his rider onto his back.

“OW! Razor!” he shouted at his dragon cycle.

“Oh, is he your dragon cycle?” a female voice surprised him. Turning his gaze away from his dragon cycle, approaching the female and giving out friendly chuffs and growls in greetings and getting the female dragon cycle’s attention, he saw a girl walk out from behind some trees.

And his heart just skipped a bit on the appearance of the newcomer.

Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight It must have been something you said I just died in your arms tonight

She was the most stunning lizard girl she has ever seen in his life. Reaching to his shoulders, her scales were scarlet red, giving her the impression of a ruby, smooth yet wild white hair that streak down her shoulders and back, a pair of yellow horns protruding from her forehead to the back of her head, bedazzling gold eyes that pierces into your soul, and a long tail that ends with a flame on the tip. She was wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket, a white strapless singlet, a chain necklace with a lock on it around her petite neck, black fingerless gloves with metal plates on the back, matching jeans with one leg cut and short, matching heavy metal boots with silver buckles around the top and what caught his attention is that she’s holding a sketchbook, filled with anime character drawings on it.

I keep looking for something I can't get Broken hearts lie all around me And I don't see an easy way to get out of this Her diary, it sits by the bedside table The curtains are closed, the cats in the cradle Who would've thought that a boy like me could come to this

Be cool, Toshi, remember what everybody taught you, and don’t mess it up like last time, he reminded himself. Taking a deep breath, he got up onto his feet and approached the girl, “Hi,” he greeted. To his relief, she smiled, genuinely smiled at him, “Hey.”

He cleared his throat, “Yes, that’s my dragon cycle. Razor over there,” he swept the collar of his jacket to calm himself, “I see that he’s....interested with your dragon cycle.”

She giggled, “Valkyrie has a way with boys. Usually, she’ll scare them off if they get close to her. But somehow, your dragon cycle has gotten her attention and I’m impressed.”

They both looked to see the two dragon cycles rubbing noses in affection, purring. They couldn’t help but laugh that their dragons are in love.

“I’m Ruby”, she introduced herself, “Ruby Ryot. What’s yours?”

“Me? Uhm?” he cleared his throat when he felt his anxiety coming up, “Ahem. I’m Toshi. But my real full name is Shirogane Tytus Wyrmbane.”

Ruby’s eyes widened in amazement, “Shirogane? You’re named after Shirogane the Unbreakable!? That is AWESOME!!”

“I know right? My dad came up with that idea,” he spoke out in excitement.

“Your dad? Wait! Is your dad.....Toffee!?” she squealed in pure excitement, “Wow! I heard about you! Your the son who saved Mewni from Kurogane the Black Sail and was able to reunite with his dad! Is it true your dad and Kurogane are living with you now?”

“My dad, yes,” he nodded, “But Kurogane has became the kingdom’s guardian. You’ll see him roaming around sooner or later.”

The two lizards gazed at each other’s eyes for a few moments, feeling a spark happening between them, until they realised the time.

“I gotta head back home, it’s getting late,” he told her, fetching Razor, “So uhh, Ruby? When can we see each other again? I would like to know more about you.”

The lizard girl winked at him, making him blush as she fetched Valkyrie, “My dad’s gone off work tomorrow. So tomorrow?”

The two got onto their dragon cycles, revving them up in preparation for take off, “Tomorrow,” Toshi agreed. And with that, the two took off into different parts with Toshi using his dimensional scissors to open the portal back to his home and the girl flying off into the opposite direction of the desert.

Toshi could not believe it. He has finally talked to a girl, and the girl’s reaction was what he wanted and he couldn’t help but feel one thing.

He has a crush on her.

#rubyryot

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parabellum-rpg-archive · 5 years

Photo

Congratulations, Marie! You’ve been accepted to play Sofia Costello. Your request to change her FC to Zoey Deutch, has also been accepted. Please make your page and send it in within 24 hours.

Admin note: This audition was incredible, and it was so hard to pick from because we had three different Sofia auditions. You were so detailed, even just in describing Sofia’s names. You’re an incredible writer - welcome to the group! - Admin V

CHARACTER DESIRED.

I will be applying for the lovely Sofia Costello.

SOFIA ( soh - fee - uh ) — “wisdom, skill” :

Not many people see it, the intelligence that hides in Sofia Costello’s eyes. When they hear that she’s a socialite, and aside from that, uninvolved in the family business, frivolous to a fault and with a dramatic streak to boost, it’s not exactly something they look for. But there’s a reason Sofia practically breezed through private school, there’s a reason she does live up to her first name, even without her parents knowing when they picked it out what she’d turn out to be like. When she applies herself to something Sofia can be a whirlwind of ambition and determination, pushing herself until she masters whatever her goal is.

GUINEVERE ( gwin - iv - eer ) — “white enchantress” :

There was no surprise that her middle name became a tribute to her recently deceased mother. The terrible accident, the twins’ first few weeks of life spent in the NICU, Sofia still believes there must have been some higher power, someone watching over them, to make sure they actually made it out of that hospital alive. In her heart, she believes it was Guinevere herself, who couldn’t pass on to the afterlife until she knew her babies were safe. Not one typically for religion, this is the one belief she clings onto tightly, with both her hands and one that has made her carry the middle name with nothing but absolute pride.

COSTELLO ( cos - tell - oh ) — “little castle” :

Despite her never caring much about the family business, Sofia would do anything, absolutely anything, for the other Costellos. Much like her middle name, she wears the surname with pride, not for the power it’s associated with ( though, despite her disregard for the business, she still quite liked that part ) but for the people. Her parents, her siblings, her cousin — she loves them dearly, which is quite possibly also why she’s so against her darling brother, her twin, her Luca marrying Paisley Sinclair, not when Juliet already brought him so much heartache. Not when he deserved so much better than that.

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER IN YOUR OWN WORDS.

There are so many things Sofia Costello is to me. From reading her biography, I immediately got the sense that she is not the type of girl that can be described with a single trope, that she is probably a lot more than people give her credit for, too. Then I started reading through the other biographies related to her own, saw that Marcel saw her as assertive & unafraid of a challenge and that Luca’s noted that the twins could get away with almost anything, especially when Sofia flashed the doe eyes her parents adored. I kind of fell in love with her even more, and I also started to understand just how broad this character is.

I think the first thing that came to mind for me when looking at Sofia was mafia princess, though mostly focussing on the latter part. A socialite, who basically ignored her family’s business, but enjoyed the luxuries of it anyway. Taking after the mother that raised her, being good at getting what she wanted, and throwing a fit when she didn’t. I think I’d build on this by saying that Sofia is probably very dramatic and overindulged, but also that she is very confident and charismatic. That there is a regal air around her, and that it makes it easy for people to have a skewed perception of who she really is, for people to underestimate her, but never test out of she is really naive, in fear of her family’s rage. I also think that it makes her powerful in social situations, knowing she can snag the attention of a room with just a few quick gestures, knowing she can play the game of power struggles as well as anyone.

The second thing I really thought about was her being a bit of a trouble maker. Sure, she focussed on her studies and goals enough to make sure she was the best, but when she could talk herself out of almost anything — how does it not become tempting to try and indulge. I think she kind of embodies that ( I hate myself for making a Gossip Girl reference in the year of our lord 2019 but it’s been burned into my head and I can not get it out ) Serena van der Woodsen feel, where she is legendary for partying and getting into trouble, but still beloved enough for none of it to really matter. I also think that like Luca, she probably held the Costello name over her peers, letting them know that she could do anything, get away with anything, because of the family she hails from.

Finally, I think that currently, at this moment in time, Sofia is changing. I think she realized that with her twin brothers’ marriage to their enemy, she could no longer remain uninvolved. After never really having any interest in the family business, she suddenly wishes to push herself right into the middle of things, for her brothers’ sake, to keep him out of a loveless marriage, especially when Juliet Carmichael had already dragged him down a hole of addiction and obsession. I think her interest in their family affairs is also growing, and I think that once all of this is done, there is no way for her to go back to her regular life.

WRITING SAMPLE.

writing sample one.

So. Getting involved in underage drinking and then mistaking a police officer for a stripper, Sofia could admit it to herself, this was not exactly one of her finest moments. She had done worse things, of course, but those her parents did not find out about. Yet. This one, unfortunately for her, they had. In her defense, the police officer looked exactly like that new stripper at the Venetian, and she’d thought he’d definitely recognize his owners’ daughter. Also in her defense, the drinks at Sapphire were not to be messed with. She’d only had a few glasses, but was already swaying on her feet — and considering someone had tried to champagne shower her, she now reeked of alcohol too. “Please officer — I’m so sorry”, Sofia had looked at him with those pleading eyes that only very rarely were denied. Apparently, the cop was a little too insulted at how she’d tried to use his handcuffs in ways they definitely weren’t meant for because he wasn’t buying it. Not even the slightest bit.

She’d considered calling Luca, or even Mia when she reached the station, hoping they could just come get her out without much hassle, but as soon as she entered the building, one of the officers’ superiors recognized her, and after berating the man for picking up Marcel Costello’s daughter, he placed her at his desk, a blanket to keep her warm wrapped tightly around her shoulders and a mug of hot chocolate in her hands as he called a secure contact to connect him to her parents. “Damn it”, she swore under her breath, knowing that all she wanted to do was fall into her bed and sleep for the next ten hours — not being forced to work her magic on both her parents in the middle of the night.

Luckily for her, it was not her parents that came to pick her up, but one of their underlings, so she had time to prepare the speech. I just went out for a little celebratory drink, I promise. My friend Nadine got engaged yesterday, and us girls had to take her out for the night, of course! She’s absolutely ecstatic about it, I’ll make sure to get some extra invitations to the wedding, her father is the CEO of some large, Fortune 500 company, so you know the nuptials will be lavish. Sorry, I’ll get back to the story. So, Christie — you know her right, with the nose job? She ordered the drinks, and I guess there was alcohol in them, I didn’t even taste any, I swear! And then we get outside, and Nadine thinks that lovely police officer was a stripper we hired just for her, and when we realized he wasn’t, it was already too late. At that point, she’d let those beautiful doe eyes of hers fill with tears, and a regretful expression would fall over her face. She’d apologize at least twice more, come up with some more excuses, and eventually, they’d tell her to just go get some rest, that it was all okay.

And Sofia would never hear about it again.

writing sample two.

Her rage was like a burning, living thing. It was fire, coursing down her veins, into every single cell of her being, taking over, turning her into pure, undiluted anger. It had been building from the moment the family discussion about this betrothal had started. She’d seen some slivers of feelings about this whole situation in her family’s eyes, some of her own feelings reflected in those, too, but she didn’t think any of them were as powerful as hers. Sofia had retreated into herself, the rage building up as she sat there, silently, barely being able to hear what anyone was saying over those feelings. When finally the attention shifted to her, to the way she seemed to glow red hot, she’d looked up at her father, her words almost like the hiss of a viper, so sharp. “You are not whoring out my brother to some enemy bitch,” The last word had been spat out, and it was like her self control snapped. She’d raged and cried and yes, even begged, but there was no budging, not this time. So she’d stormed out, telling them they’d all rot in hell for this and didn’t let anyone near her for weeks.

It had been hell — absolute torture for her to refuse contact with her family. She did not want to see any of their faces, did not want to hear any of their pleas to just come back, to just talk to them, at least. She flinched every time she saw Luca’s name pop up on her phone screen, and wanted to smash her phone against the wall every time she pressed the deny call button. Sofia learned a surprising lot about her own power of self-restraint during those weeks, how long she could hold out, how to hide her hurt and anger behind a blank, emotionless face. Let them see her empty space at the table and realize what they’d done. Just like her father, she refused to budge on this, and only when she realized it herself, by her own intelligence and being let alone with her thoughts for so long, did she return to them.

When she barged in after weeks of no contact, Sofia strutted towards her father with that sense of confidence she had always possessed, showing absolutely no sign of anger or how upset she was, she just looked him into the eyes and told him that if this was happening, she wanted to be more involved in the business. She only offered a brief ‘family duty’ as an explanation of why. To be fair, it was true. But it was her loyalty towards Luca, specifically, that was the reason behind it. During her self-imposed exile, Sofia had realized that they all probably just saw this as the only solution to their troubles with the Sinclairs, and if she wanted to get her brother out of it, she’d have to know all the pieces involved in the game they’ve been playing since the Medici’s were chased out of Chicago.

After all, you can’t win in chess unless you have a proper view of the entire gameboard.

#accepted

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