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anadorablekiwi · 2 years

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Another LU Family AU, Chapter 2

A Late Night Adventure

Word count: 1787

Legend/Fable. Fluff, humor, flirting

Legend sat up in bed and glanced at the clock on his bedside table.

Good, everyone should be asleep by now.

As quietly as he could manage, he got up and put on his adventuring gear, finishing the ensemble off with the treasure map he found in the woods behind his house this morning.

Slowly, he opened his door and made his way down the hall, carefully avoiding the floorboards that creak (mom keeps telling dad to get them fixed, to which he simply replies ‘they add character and personality!’). After what felt like forever, Legend reached the family room and let out a sigh of relief.

He pulled out the map from his pocket and studied it again. Let’s see here, it looks like this leads me to the abandoned dungeons beneath the castle. Those old things are hardly ‘secure’ anymore, and the castle guards keep it monster free. This will be a piece of cake.

*Ahem.*

Link froze.

“And where do you think you’re going at this hour, young man?”

Link stuffed the map into his bag and turned around.

Behind him stood his dad, arms folded across his chest and not even trying to hide his smirk. His hair was tousled, and he was wearing his pink and blue fairy pajamas.

“Um… a walk?”

“You’re wearing your entire adventuring gear, just to go for a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood, at one in the morning.”

“Uh… yes?”

Legend’s dad leveled him with a scrutinous look.

After what felt like ten years of silence, his dad finally spoke, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Stay safe, don’t get caught, and be home before sunrise or your mother will kill us both.”

Legend let out a breath of relief, then pumped his fist. “Yes!! Thank you dad, love you!”

His dad chuckled. “Don’t mention it, I love you too kiddo. Have fun on your ‘walk’, I’m going back to bed.” With a wink and a smirk, Sir Raven turned and walked down the hall (also avoiding the noisy floorboards).

•=|=====>

Fable glanced at the clock on her nightstand.

One o'clock should be late enough. Let’s see where that new secret passage leads.

She slipped out of bed, already wearing one of her travel dresses, and grabbed her bag with a few things she prepared earlier that day before slipping out into the hallway.

She snuck into the throne room and slipped behind one of the tapestries hanging on the wall, moving the door to the passage aside as quickly and quietly as she could. Once inside, she lit her torch and returned the door to its original place.

The passage was surprisingly nice for having not been in use for many years. There were old lanterns lining the walls, and the first one to her right was even half full of oil still.

Wait, that oil looks new. Probably Tetra’s doing I’ll bet.

At the end of the passage was an old wooden door, and as Fable swung it open the door moved with surprising ease. She inspected the hinges to find they had been oiled.

Yep. Definitely Tetra’s doing. I wonder just how often she uses this passage?

The door opened to what seemed to be some old dungeons, which had clearly gone unused for a long time. The only evidence for recent activity was numerous footprints along the dirty hallway leading outside, which were suspiciously Tetra sized.

She used the fire of her to light the lantern on this end of the passageway that Tetra had no doubt filled with oil and put out the light of her torch, setting it aside.

Most of the cells were open, although a couple were closed. Fable walked towards one of the open ones, hand running along the cast iron of the door. She entered the dark cell and walked towards the back wall, where something seemed to be etched into the stone.

Fable held her torch closer to the wall to get a better look. Ooo, maybe this is a message left by one of the prisoners held here? Is it some riddle, or the location of a treasure?

In messy handwriting (hand carving?), it read, “Tetra was here”

Fable brought her hand to her forehead. “I don’t know why I ever expected otherwise.”

Suddenly, she heard metal creaking and whipped around. Just in time to watch the cell door slam shut. Fable rushed forward and pulled on the door, dread spreading across her face when it didn’t budge. Uh Oh.

•=|=====>

As it turns out, the entrance to the dungeons was behind the castle. The map was a little vague, but it was nothing for Legend, particularly considering his experience in adventures and treasure hunts.

The dungeons were nicer than he had anticipated. Lanterns lined the walls, one was even lit at the far end, there was the occasional cobweb in a corner, old cells and a hallway with lots of footprints. Huh. Wonder who left those.

As he slowly made his way down the hallway, his own lantern in hand, he made sure to look in each of the cells. So far he hadn’t seen any treasure, but surely there was some somewhere. There can’t be a map without-

As he peeked into the next cell, Legend froze. Staring back at him was a blonde girl who seemed about his age. She had her eyes narrowed and was glaring at him, not that he could presently figure out why.

She folded her arms and leveled him with a suspicious glare. “Who are you and what is your business in these dungeons?”

“Uh…” it took him a moment to collect his thoughts. He straightened and flashed a smile. “Link Fountain, also known as Legend, adventurer extraordinaire. At your service, mi’lady.” He gave a half bow, for added dramatic effect.

The girl raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed.

Legend cleared his throat. “I found this old treasure map that led me here. Just looking to see if there’s any spare rupees or fun treasures laying around that nobody’s using. You know, for the adventure.”

“Uh huh. And why should I not be suspicious of you?”

“Because you’re cool like that?” He offered hopefully.

She gave him another deadpan glare.

Legend brought his hand to his chin in thought. “Hm, how to prove I’m trustworthy… Oh! My dad is a knight, war hero and everything! He’s Sir Raven Fountain. Look, our family crest is on the band of my hat. See?”

He took off his cap and held it close to the bars of the cell. The girl inspected it, then nodded. “Alright, I believe you. My name’s Fable. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Legend.”

“The pleasure is all mine, mi’lady Fable.” Legend did another half bow. “Now, I’m guessing you’d like some help getting out of that cell?”

“Yes please.” She averted her gaze for a moment, cheeks tinted light pink. “If you go down that passageway it’ll lead you to the castle. Quick, find a guard or someone! Someone is bound to have a key-”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’ll just take the door off.”

She froze and stared at him. “… you’ll what?”

“These are half-pin barrel hinges. With the right leverage and application of strength, the door will just lift free.” He set his lantern down on the floor. Subtly, Legend slipped a power bracelet out of his pocket and onto the wrist not already containing one. He then grabbed a nearby bench, lifting it with ease and propping up one side of the legs against the cell door.

“Stand back. I’ve got this.” He shot her a wink, rolled his shoulders, and with one big push the door lifted free, clanging to the ground loudly. “There! Piece of cake.”

“Thank you so much.” Fable walked out of the cell, arms still folded and shivering slightly.

Link unclipped his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. She looked up at him, a surprised and questioning expression on her face.

He smiled warmly. “You looked cold. You can go ahead and keep the cloak, I have plenty.”

“I- Thank you, Link. You don’t need to give me your cloak though, really-”

He shrugged and grinned. “Just keep it. If you’re really determined to give it back, I’m an apprentice at Blacksmith and (grand)son’s. You can drop by sometime maybe?” He added hopefully.

Fable smiled. “I just may have to.”

Legend flashed a bright smile, then quickly schooled his facial expression once more and cleared his throat. “So, uh, you came from the castle I’m guessing? Would you like me to walk you back through the passageway?”

“Oh! Um, sure! I-if you want to.”

One short and slightly awkward walk later, and they were at the secret door. Fable turned to him and smiled. “Thank you for your help today. I don’t know what I would have done had you not been there.”

“Not a problem, any time. Although, probably not a good idea to get trapped like that again,” he added with a chuckle.

Fable laughed. “Probably not.”

She glanced at the wall, and his eyes pointed at the ground. Finally, she straightened up and grinned. “Farewell Sir Legend, knight of the house of Fountain.” Fable winked, and Legend’s cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink.

“Farewell, Lady Fable, maiden of Hyrule Castle.” He gently took her hand, brought it up to his face, and kissed her knuckles. Her cheeks flushed a matching pink to his own. They smiled one more time, then both turned and went their separate ways.

•=|=====>

Bonus scenes

Once she was back in her room, Fable unceremoniously flopped onto her bed and resisted the urge to scream into her pillow. She didn’t want to wake or alert anyone, much less at this hour.

She turned over and wrapped the cloak around herself, totally not taking in the scent or dreading the idea of actually giving it back (visiting him would be fun though. Maybe I could just sneak out? I’ve been wanting a small dagger…)

Now the trick was finding a time during the day to sneak out. And keeping all this a secret from her inquisitive and teasing sisters, of course.

•=|=====>

Legend quietly walked back into his room, closing the door behind him and setting his stuff down on the desk. He picked up a pillow and shoved it in his face, screaming silently.

He quickly changed back into pajamas and crawled back into bed, replaying the night’s events in his mind.

Once comfortable under the blankets, Legend froze.

I forgot to look for the treasure. He brought his palm to his forehead and sighed. Oh well. It was probably only a few rupees anyways.

•=|=====>

#the kiwi bird writes #linked universe

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taterstories · 4 months

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Wishes (my mistress found a genie in a bottle) by: Tater

Me and my wife were out exploring, and we were walking through a forest a couple hour drive from our house. It was so beautiful here we love to come out here and explore. When we go out on these adventures my wife also makes me dress in girl's clothes with breast forms and everything and my cock is always in a cage, she only lets me out on special occasions and to clean myself once a week. We have had this Female led relationship since our wedding night. We had a "normal" relationship in years before we got married, she made me think I was head of the house, and we were equals. But on our wedding day after the big lavish wedding with hundreds of guests and a huge reception that cost way too much, we were at her house because it only made since I sell my house and move in with her because she had a really big and expensive house, and it was really nice any way. We were getting ready for the honeymoon the next day and we consummated our marriage we had sex and I always thought I was the man and fucked her good when I was done and came inside her we were laying there. She gets up and says, "Now that we are married, we need to have a talk." She told me to stand up by the bed She goes to a room next to the master bedroom that I have never been into before there is a lot of this house I've never seen before. But any way she comes back in the room and has something in her hands she gets on her knees and puts a metal ring around my balls and dick. "OH, wow that's cold what is that?" Then she takes the rest of it which it was a cage that she slid over my dick and slid a lock into it. "What the why is this a game?" I spoke. As she stands up, she looks me in the eyes and speaks. "No, it's not a game silly I love you so much and you are mine forever." "Now get on your knees I'm in charge around here and you are my pet and plaything and yes my husband, but you will to as you are told, or I will punish you." So, from that day forward I have been in chastity, and she has been in charge, and I have grown to love her so much.

Then that brings us too today. We were going through the woods and came across this old stone structure. We walked around it and there was lots of garbage, and we were looking around for treasures. We were in this one room Looking around and found some Items that looked old and very cool there was this old bottle and some gems and some weird other things, so we collected them and put them in my bag, and we took them with us and continued on our hike. I was dressed in a sundress with tight on underneath and of course I had panties on and a bra to support my breast forms and I had blond wig on. But she did let me wear hiking boots for his activity. As we hike, we would see other people and they would look and laugh at me but that was part of it the humiliation of it. But even in the at home and in the bedroom, I had to dress like a girl I haven't worn my man clothes in about a year now. She also treats me like a girl when we have sex, she fucks me with strapon,s and I eat her beautiful pussy. I love my life and what we had I was great I never thought we would end up like this, but she has led me to love it. We finished our hike and headed back home so I could cook dinner for my mistress.

We get home and immediately change into my maid's outfit and start on dinner. Jane goes and gets cleaned up and changes waits for me to have dinner ready. She comes downstairs and asks, "Oh Brandy when is dinner going to be ready?" I tell her, "It will be a little bit till it's ready miss." My name is Actually Brandon, but she now calls me Brandy. She came into the huge kitchen and brought the ruck sack I had on our hike and put it on the big island counter and gets the stuff we found out of the bag and was getting a better look at it. There were the gems and looked like normal gems and then this interesting bottle that had a really beautiful design on it. Jane was taking a close look at the bottle she said, "This is such a beautiful bottle I love it; this would look good on a shelf in the house." She was looking at it then started to try to get the cork out she was pulling it and all of a sudden it popped and pink smoke came out and filled the whole room and when it cleared there was the most beautiful girl sitting on our counter. We both jump back with fear. We both said, "who are you how did you get in our house?" We stand there in awe. Then she speaks "Oh hello it's about time someone let me out, I have been stuck in that bottle for a long time." But I am a Gene, and I can grant you 3 wishes with no rules wish for whatever you want. Then Jane said, "Oh really?" "This will be fun since I am already rich and have everything I want." She sits there and thinks for a few minutes then speaks up, "OK I know what I want, I want to have the body I have right now forever and be immortal never age never die never get sick." Then the Gene said, "Done." and points her finger at Jane and there was a puff of pink smoke and glitter. Then Jane looked at herself and said, "Ok, I feel great now for my second wish I wish for my sub husband to be turned into a beautiful bimbo girl full on everything and never age and be immortal just like me and will serve me for all eternity. Then the Gene turns and slid off the counter and walks over to me and say, "Ok I can do that as you wish." As she points her finger at me, I scream, "NOOOO PLEASE NO!" In an instance there was a puff of smoke and glitter and when the smoke cleared there, I was a woman. I looked myself over and yes, I was one of the hottest girls I have ever seen think of the hottest stripper with big boobs and a big ass you have ever seen that was me. I ran my hand across where my cock and balls that were in chastity were. They were no longer there I looked I lifted my dress and looked in my panties and saw a beautiful smooth pussy. I was a little disappointed because I loved being a man, but I guess I have to except fate and live this new life.

After a few minutes of me and Jane and the Gene admiring me Jane said, "Now for my Third wish." Then Gene stopped her and said, "Now make sure you think about it and make it a good one." Then Jane thought for a minute and said, "Ok I've got it, I wish that you Gene would be free from you bonds to the bottle but would be in servitude to me forever and can grant me any wish and as many wishes I want forever." Then the Gene looked at Jane and said, "Oh my are you sure that's what you want?" Jane replied, "Yes for sure cause then I'll be all powerful." Then the Gene shrugged her shoulders and pointed straight up and there was a puff of pink, blue, green, black and rainbows and glitter everywhere. When the smoke cleared there stand the Gene a beautiful petite girl looked to be about 21-year-old standing there in the kitchen naked. We just stared at her then she said, "Now I am free from the bonds that held me, now you must dress me and everything I am yours I do and grant as you wish Mistress." Jane looked her over and said, "Very good, now I wish for you to have one of my extra rooms closets full of clothes anything you would ever need dresses, pants, blowses, panties, bras and just full of clothes for you to wear." Then the Gene said take me to the room you want it in, and I will grant it. Then Jane led her upstairs and I followed along and we went to one of the five extra bedrooms the house has and Jane said, "I want you in this one and you can decorate the room however you want it is your space. The Gene looked around and pointed up and pink smoke puffed in the big walk-in closet when the smoke cleared it was full and perfectly placed clothes it looked amazing. Then she looked around the room which was already furnished she pointed towards the bed and again puff pink smoke everywhere. The smoke cleared and everything was pink and green and blue there was a big four poster bed with a canopy over it and there were pillows all over the room, The room looked like every young girl's Barby dream room. The Gene said, "perfect I love it."

Then Jane looked at me and said, "So how is dinner coming along Brandy?" I had forgotten and ran downstairs as fast as I could in heels. I get down there and I was fine nothing burned yet. So, I worked on dinner and finished it and put everything on plates and I went and set the big dining room table for three. Then I announced dinner was served. I had to get use to my voice I was much higher pitch there was not an ounce left of the old me Brandon was gone. Jane and the Gene came and sat down at the table, and I served them the lavish meal I prepared and served them wine and asked if they needed anything else and Jane told me that it was ok, and I could sit and eat. I am so thankful now I get to sit at the table with Jane after her and everyone else had been served. The way I use to get to eat dinner or meals with her when we were first married, after I served her and everyone, I would put my food in a dog bowl that was under her chair, and I would eat down there on my hands and knees like a dog. It was humiliating especially when we would have dinner parties and some time, she still makes me eat down like a dog when there are too many people and there are not enough seats at the table.

After we ate our dinner Jane thought I would be fun to break in my new body and she fucked me with her strap on and really treated me like a slut. The dildo hit different as a woman I had electric multiple orgasm and now I see the hype wow I think i could get used to being a girl. Now this forever thing was crazy as we lived forever with Jane as our leader. We did as she pleased and played the games she wanted to play. Seeing she could wish for whatever she wanted there were different scenarios played out and did what she told us to do It could be fun or it could be horrible for me and humiliating or even painful for me. But what a ride it was.

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fanimesenseiwrites · 3 years

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Things the MC would bring back to their demon bois from the mortal realm:

Lucifer:

MC goes to second hand stores and vintage shops always on the look out for vinyl records that they think Lucifer would like.

Most of the time they try and bring back stuff he'd actually like, such as Tchaikovsky or Vivaldi

Once, they brought back Stravinsky's Firebird Suite and Lucifer wouldn't stop kissing them (once they were in the privacy of his room of course)

Sometimes the MC will bring back more modern music just because it makes them think of him

"I dunno, I just listen to Hozier and think of you"

Lucifer doesn't like all the modern music they bring back but he appreciates the sentiment just the same

Then there's the gag gifts...

Any kind of music that has a reference to the devil or Satan or hell is fair game

These gifts usually elicit an eye roll from the eldest brother but he keeps them all the same

This is why Lucifer owns a copy of "The Devil Went Down To Georgia"

So when MC brings back a copy of Giuseppe Tartini's Violin Sonata in G minor, they're a little surprised at Lucifer's delighted reaction

"You know, I was the one who visited Tartini in his dreams."

MC's mind = blown.

"Also, this copy is cursed. I know you know how much I enjoy cursed vinyls."

"I- wait... What?!"

MC is very upset that they had a cursed vinyl in their possession this whole time

Mammon:

This boy loves stuff, and he loves MC, so he's gonna love any gift really

But MC knows he loves treasure and jewels and as much as they'd love to just bring him back nice watches and jewelery...

MONEY IS A THING, AND MC IS NOT MADE OF IT.

So MC settles for semi-precious stones instead

They always find fun and beautiful stones at museums and those metaphysical stores and they always pick out one that reminds them of Mammon

They're really nervous when they give him his first gift

"Hey, I got this for you and I know it's not fancy or expensive but I saw it and thought of you and I just wanted you to have it."

Mammon will love them until they die. He is really just so touched that MC thought of him. He'll try and play it cool though

He totally fails. MC won't tell him that though

MC brings him Lapis Lazuli and tells him it reminded them of his eyes and Mammon is now a puddle of lovesick goo on the floor

Mammon puts more shelves in his room dedicated to all the gifts MC gives him

One time MC brings him back some fool's gold in a teeny little jar on a chain, so that he can wear it

"Fool's gold? Why cuz I'm a fool?" Mammon asks with a roll of his eyes.

"What? No, cuz I'm a fool for you."

Mammon only love MC until they die? WRONG.

He's gonna love them forever now

He was gonna do that anyways

Leviathan:

C'mon, this boy is easy. Anime/manga stuff and TSL. Need I say more?

At first he'll be suspicious of MC wanting to give him gifts, but once they've convinced him that they're doing it out of the kindness of their heart he's really touched

The first thing the MC brings him is a pen with a little Ruri-Chan on the end of it

"I know it's not much, but I just happened to see it and I knew you'd like it"

Like it??????

HE LOVES IT! HE'S OVER THE GODDAMM MOON.

He's never seen anything like this in the Devildom and he doesn't think about the small stuff usually because he's too busy trying to get the big collectors edition items. So he actually really loves this.

MC continues to bring him cute small stuff like buttons and keychains and Levi loves them all.

His favorite item(s) that MC brought him is a pair of Lord of Shadows and Henry BFF enamel pins

He definitely tackle hugged MC when he got them

He gives the Lord of Shadows pin back to MC so they can each have one and show off their BFF status with them

Satan:

MC loves going to second-hand bookstores to shop for Satan.

Satan also appreciates new books, but there's something special about how his face lights up when he finds something old or rare. Anything with a little bit of history to it.

Of course, finding rare books for not a lot of money is a rare event in itself

So a safe bet is to bring Satan non-fiction, the boy loves to learn

But he really loves it when MC puts thought into finding fiction books that he would like

"I just really feel like you'd like Dean Koontz so I brought you one of my favorites by him."

Satan loves those gifts the most because he can talk to MC about the books afterwards

Satan's absolute favourite gift is a leather bound copy of Arabian Nights though

"I was thinking we could read this one together"

"Like you read it to me and pretend to be Scheherazade?" Satan suggests.

MC is flustered at the connotation of the suggestion but agrees anyways

The time they spend together reading that story will forever be one of Satan's favorite memories

Asmodeus:

He's a little harder to shop for than the MC had originally imagined

They tried bringing him make-up and skin care, which Asmo always graciously accepted, but he never seemed super excited about the gifts

But what else is to be expected from the guy who already uses only the best products?

MC suddenly gets an idea when they send Asmo a selfie of them at the park

- OMG! You're so cute! And the background is pretty too!-

MC starts dressing up and going to nice and beautiful places just with the intention of taking pictures

Botanical Gardens, museums, downtown skylines, anything that would make for a good picture

MC goes full on aesthetic art hoe just for Asmo

Only the best pictures get sent to Asmo

Asmo is LIVING for the looks their MC is serving up

- You are absolutely STUNNING! I'm in awe at these AMAZING pictures-

MC makes a scrapbook of the best pictures to give to Asmo the next time they see him

Asmo loves it and keeps it on display in his room always

Also, Asmo definitely makes MC their personal photographer after seeing the wonderful shots they took

Beelzebub:

Obviously, the boy loves food. He's always down to try new snacks from the mortal realm.

But MC wonders if there's something better that they could bring him

One day MC is at GNC for supplements for themself when they notice the workout supplements and get an idea

They grab some fun flavored protein powder and some BCAAs and a really nice shaker bottle just for Beel

Beel is actually really excited to get these gifts!

The Devildom doesn't have fun flavors of protein powder and the shaker bottle is such a great idea!

MC always brings new flavors of protein back for Beel, doing their best to find the weirdest flavors for him to try

Beel's favorite is definitely Birthday Cake.

MC starts bringing him new stuff to try too, protein bars, recovery supplements, collagen, and superfoods shakes

Beel tries everything and tells MC what their favorites are

"I love the BCAAs, I just wish the Devildom had them..." *sad Beel noises*

MC may or may not talk to Diavolo about researching BCAAs and getting them produced and sold in the Devildom

The supplements MC brings actually help Beel with his workouts and to control his hunger (a little)

Beel actually gets hotter??? Who knew that was possible???

MC definitely takes advantage of Beel's new 8-pack 😏😏😏

Belphegor:

What do you get the boy who only wants to sleep?

MC has gotten him stuffed animals and blankets and even a couple of nice pillows, but nothing seems to excite him

... but maybe that's just his personality??

It's not until MC accidentally leaves a sweater in the Devildom, that they figure it out

- You left your sweater down here- Belphie texts MC.

- Oh no, I'll just get when I come to visit y'all again-

- That's fine. I like having something that smells like you-

And the light bulb went off in MC's head.

Every time MC goes to visit they leave a shirt or sweater behind for Belphie, so that he can have something that smells like them.

Belphie loves how MC smells, its like a sweet dream all the time. It helps him sleep better when they're gone.

Belphie starts to complain when MC is gone longer than the item they left smells like them

(Which is every time)

So MC will start leaving Belphie more than one item, packing them in airtight bags so he can use them one after another until they return

Belphie can and will fight anyone who tries to take MC's clothing

"Mammon, you have two seconds to put that sweater back or I will kill you."

And Lucifer probably won't stop him

Diavolo:

He's honestly the easiest to please.

He's so fascinated with any thing that humans do that he'll enjoy any gift from the human world.

MC's first gift to him is a rubber duck.

"The duck is wearing a crown so it made me think of you and I just thought it was cute."

"I love it! What's its purpose?"

"Uh... to float around in the bathtub with you and look cute?"

"Isn't that what you're for?"

Diavolo loves the rubber duck so much it gets his own silk pillow to rest on when it's not taking a bath with Diavolo.

MC brings him cute pens, and keychains sometimes bottles of wine if the bottle is cute.

"The bottle is shaped like a cat! Isn't that delightful?!"

MC's proudest moment was when they found a full and intact tea set at the thrift store

Diavolo immediately fell in love with it.

He insists on only using that set when having tea with MC

But his favorite gift will always be the rubber duck.

Barbatos:

He'll insist that he doesn't need any gifts but that won't stop the MC.

MC is with him in the kitchen in the Demon Lord's Palace when they get an idea.

KITCHEN TOYS.

Barbatos works so hard, he deserves some things to make his life easier and liven up the bland kitchen

MC's first gift is a vegetable spiralizer.

"You use it to turn zucchini and squash and the like into noodles so that you can do fun stuff with vegetables!"

Barbatos accepts it graciously, but he'll probably never use it.

MC brings him spices from the mortal realm and Barbatos actually really loves those.

When MC brings him a food processor, he offers to cook for them right then and there

Despite all the weird gadgets MC ends up bringing him, and there are plenty out there, Barbatos's favorite is a ladle that looks like a stegosaurus.

It's far more whimsical than anything he would've ever picked out, and he'll never use it, but only because he's afraid of ruining it, not because he doesn't love it.

At some point, Barbatos does ask MC to stop bringing him kitchen gadgets

"Why? Do you not like them?" MC asks with a pout.

"I appreciate all of them, but I have everything I need when you're in the kitchen with me."

If MC wasn't already in love with him they are now

Smooth bastard just doesn't want anymore shit in his kitchen

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thefallenbibliophilequote · 3 years

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What If?

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You think back on your relationship with Bucky, with questions of 'What if' surrounding you, four questions stood out to you, so you wonder- which one will come true?

Word count: 4,179

Warnings: melancholy angst, character death of sorts (not real deaths), some fluff, the winter soldier, mentions of violence, civil war Bucky, language, me referencing poems.

A/N: Civil War timeline with some modifications. Italics are daydreams. The question What If? Is my favourite question- it is so hopeful and yet so destructive. Besides the Taylor song, I also based this on the song 'What If?' From the musical If/Then

A/N2: this is based on the song The 1 by Taylor Swift for @captain-kelli Don't Call It A Comeback Tour challenge! When I signed up for it this entire story just came to my mind all at once and I could see it all from start to finish. However when I finally sat down with my outline to write it… something possessed it. I have mixed feelings about this but oh well, I hope you will like it! Thank you @lookiamtrying for beta reading this!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Masterlist

It always came back to your head in flashes; he came back in glances at objects around your apartment, but he never came back to you- not in your reality. You remembered the last night you saw him next to you, you remembered his cold voice that you read so well past. You mostly remembered the look in his blue eyes- they were soft and sad, contrasting his tone just like how his words contrasted their true meaning.

You had found your little piece of heaven in this small apartment, Bucky found his peace with you. He was always cautious, ever since he pulled Steve out of the river and started to remember his old life he run away from hydra, using all of his training to disappear from both sides that were looking for him. And then he found you and everything changed. You didn't know who he was at first, but by the time he opened up and told you who he was he held a part of your heart. It took some time but by the time you earned his full trust you took space in his heart, and when you didn't run away after you found out about him- your place in his heart grew and he kept you there safe. Logically he knew he should never stay for too long, and he shouldn't stay with you, but you were the first friend he had in decades- you helped him through nightmares, and you gave him a diary to keep track of the memories that started to come back. So he risked everything, and took every precaution to make sure he could stay there with you and dissipate his past from his potential future with you. And slowly but surely your relationship together evolved. You were proud of every progress he made- when the nightmares became rare, when you had to buy him another notebook, when he talked to you about it and you saw him forgive himself for something that was not his choice- you were proud when he started smiling and touching you more freely even with his left arm. You were proud of him when he showed his emotions more and told you those three little words with a bright look in his eye that caused you to smile and reply those same three words.

Then he came home to you one night with a heavy look that you haven't seen in a long time- you remember it from the time you were only friends, when he came to your door after a nightmare, panicked, saying he should run away.

He didn't talk that night, but you felt him change again, you felt him being more reserved again, like the Bucky you first met.

Then he came home to you one night a week later with the same look but now you saw his eyes- they weren't cold, they were emotional.

"They found me." No they didn't.

"Bucky," he was never one to lie. "What are you saying?"

You left the mug you held on the counter and walked to him in the living room. When he didn't answer you went to sit on the couch, patting the spot next to you.

"Talk to me, please." Bucky went towards you but he bent down and you knew what he was about to do. He moved the rug away and pulled at the wooden floor until you could both see the hidden space there where he told you an emergency bag will be necessary. He pulled it out.

"I need to go, you can't come with me."

"No, Bucky look at me," you stood up in front of him, "you don't have to run away! I can come with you-"

"It's too dangerous! You can't date the Winter Soldier!" He finally said. You knew he was trying to scare you with his cold tone, but you didn't let him.

"And yet, I am still here! I am not going to leave you Bucky- no one found you, stay with me- please don't run away."

"Doll," his eyes always gave him away. "I need to go, they are close. I need to leave."

"Bucky," tears welled up in your eyes. "Will you-"

"I am not going to come back."

Yes, you remember that night well. You played it in your head over and over again. You remembered your tears, the slamming door, and mostly the quiet.

You felt it when you woke up alone again every day after that. You saw him on the TV a few weeks after he left you- he stood next to Captain America- at least he found Steve. You had a million things you wished you could have said, questions you wished to know. You never know, though, when it will all go away, but you know the greatest loves of all time are over now, they always end. But you could never let it go, he plagued your mind.

It was the constant question of: Would he have stayed for you? If things were different? If he didn't have an excuse to leave?

You knew the answer could kill you, but your mind couldn't help but wonder- What if?

•

What if he stayed?

"I'm not coming back." Bucky closed the door behind him, it slammed harder than he intended to. He took the time to rest against the door, gathering his thoughts as he softly whispered to the air-

"I love you."

You brought life to his grey world, you helped him find himself- is he scared more of hydra finding you, or of you? Everything good seemed to be taken from him, and you were the sunshine for him- the moonlight comfort of the midnight nightmares.

Bucky spent so long running, what if he just let himself have this- you? What if he didn't use his past as an excuse to run away from his possible future?

He didn't think further when he opened the door again and shut it behind him. His eyes were just as soft and glassy as yours, filled with unshed tears. He came to you and you got up from the couch- without missing a beat he pulled you to him, holding you tight.

"I'm sorry, doll, I love you, and I don't want to leave you."

"Then stay, please. We are safe." You held him tighter and let out a shaking breath when you realized he didn't walk away, he stayed for you.

"I'll stay." He promised you that night, both of you refused to let go.

It was a few months after that and Bucky passed a jewelry shop, he watched as couples inside looked at all the shiny items and picked a few to take to their home. You were his home.

When he came back to you, the house smelled like his favourite pie that you made. He wanted to stay forever here with you, you didn't have much, but you had enough to get by and it was everything he could wish for right now.

But at night he laid wide awake, his metal arm surrounding you securely, drawing senseless patterns on your skin as you slept.

He couldn't give you a future like all the other normal couples have, but he could try to do his best, you always told him that trying was enough.

Bucky went to the museum the next night, when the old guard fell asleep he snuck in and searched for his treasure- in the area that displayed his stuff from the 40s- he found it. His ma's engagement ring, it was silver with two blue stones on either side the small diamond- you will look so perfect wearing it.

He was walking home with a smile, hoping to be home before you wake up- he left you a note but he knew you would only worry.

On the way, he decided to purchase some plums and then he saw the newspaper- the assassination of King T'Chaka, blamed on the Winter Soldier. He knew he had to get home fast. The smile dropped from his face and he ran to you.

"Doll!" He yelled to you when he closed the apartment shut, he panicked when you didn't answer. Checking the windows were closed, he saw no sign of forced entry, so he moved to the bedroom you shared."Doll,"

You were still asleep peacefully in your bed, only opening your eyes when you heard him call you again.

"Good morning, Bucky." You smiled at him and went to pull him down for a kiss which he gladly returned, letting himself relax when he knew you were safe. "What are you doing all dressed up-"

You stopped when you saw his nervous eyes.

"What happened?" you sat up on the bed and held Bucky's hand as he told you about the news.

"But, they don't know where we are, so we will be fine… right?" you were trying to stay hopeful, you didn't want anything to get in the way of your happiness, but life finds a way.

"We can't be certain… doll I think we need to go."

"Go where?" you didn't want to leave this house, you shared so many moments here with him, "This is our home."

"You are my home, we can find a place for us wherever we go- but I have to keep you safe with me. So, we need to go."

You only nodded to him, solemnly getting out of bed and packing the essentials he told you to take.

Soon enough, you were ready to go, but he stopped you before you reached for the door handle.

"Wait," his throat suddenly went dry, but he had to do this- he had to do this here. "I just need to tell you something, before we go."

"What is it?"

"We shared so many memories here, you helped me find myself and never gave up on me. And then I fell in love with you and I was so happy when I first kissed you and you admitted to loving me as well- and you let me set the pace. You were always there for me, doll, and I always want you to be."

"Bucky, what are you-"

"My ma always told me to give this to someone special, someone who managed to see the real me, and I have no clue how you did it, doll, but you did." He got down on one knee, "So, I want to do my ma proud, do this properly."

And then he went down on one knee, and then you said yes.

You smiled, you would have been so happy, and he never would have gotten caught, not if he had you. You've only seen the ring before in pictures but… it would have been fun, if he would've been the one.

You really were something together, so you let your mind wonder again.

Little did you know that all that time ago, Bucky had wondered the exact same thing. What if he stayed?

Bucky burst through the door, shutting it behind him as he went to envelop you in his arms.

"I'm not leaving you, not ever." He held you tight- and he promised he won't let you go no matter what happened. He couldn't handle not being with you.

Months passed with you sleeping soundly next to him.

Another day started like any other- right before he heard the explosion coming from the living room, awakening both you and Bucky in freight.

"Bucky, what's happening?" You whispered to him as you saw him get up and grab the gun that was taped under the bed.

"Stay here, I'll keep you safe, they found me but I promise- I won't let them get to you." He told you, and then Bucky went, opening the door and seeing the Hydra agents that stormed his house- his home.

Bucky sprung to action and shot the ones that came near him, protecting himself from the bullets with his metal arm. As soon as he took care of the agents in his home, he heard voices coming up the stairs- he had to get you out of here.

"Doll, come on, we have to go." He urgently told you, seeing you were already dressed and took the emergency bag he kept under your bed- you always knew.

"Where to, Bucky?" your shaky voice didn't escape him as he escorted you through the bodies on the floor, but he didn't have time to comfort you right now- his only mission was to get you to safety. That was all he wished for. That was all he wished for when you went to the roof to look at the stars, when you passed by a fountain and he remembered his ma telling him to toss pennies in the pool and make a wish.

He helped you down the fire escape and held you tight as he jumped onto another roof. Then he simply told you to run as he seeked temporary cover to think of an exit for you. They were shooting at you now, and he ushered you in front of him, having his body as a shield for you.

He found a place behind a vent as soon as you gained some speed and put space between you and the Hydra agents.

"Bucky-" your soft voice called to him, bringing him back to you. He looked at you when you just looked at your stomach, where blood was now seeping through your shirt.

"No, no doll stay with me-" your eyes began to flutter as the dizziness took you. "We will fix it, you'll be okay- I'll fix it."

"Bucky- it's okay." Your hand caressed his cheek; you winced when he put pressure on the wound.

"No, it's not! I can't lose you doll, this is all my fault, please stay with me." You felt his tears on your hand, even when you felt things go dark, you didn't break his gaze.

"This isn't your fault, Bucky. I love you, please promise me you'll stay yourself- don't let them convince you you're anything but a good man."

"No, doll, stay- please." His voice broke. "I love you."

The lights went out in your eyes, and he felt all the light in his life go with you, he sobbed over you, not caring about the hydra agents getting close. No one will take you away from him. He didn't let you go, he couldn't handle being without you.

If only his wishes came true, it would've been you that was alive instead of him, and you would've been safe.

•

What if you had gone after him?

It took you months, but you knew you had to go after him and fight for the two of you. You finally found him- they had taken him to the Avengers facility like you saw on the news. He was captured with Captain America- his former friend, you hoped Steve was taking care of your Bucky.

He had to be safe now, right? From what you heard of Steve… he won't let anything happen to him- so you hoped that maybe you could tell him who you were to Bucky and they will let you see him.

You walked into the facility with your cover, standing idly in the corner of the room as you watched Bucky being locked in a cage. It hurt your heart and you wished you could walk up to Steve but he was with government officials- and those were never good.

Then everything went dark. You were freaking out like the rest of them when you heard a girl talking to Steve-

"Sublevel 5, east wing." She had said and you quickly exited from the room, hoping to get to Bucky. Remembering the schematics of the building you memorized, you rushed to him. Was it dangerous? Maybe. Did you care? Not even a bit.

You ran down the stairs when you heard a commotion.

You entered the floor to see Tony Stark aiming a weapon against Bucky. You've never seen him this way, as the Winter Soldier- but he was still your Bucky.

"No!" you shouted when a loud blast echoed in the room. Tony went to attack him and you stood there helpless, not knowing what to do. You knew in your heart that he will recognize you- he has to. He is your Bucky- he said he will never forget you.

Two girls went to attack him after he pushed Tony Stark away and you rushed forward, getting to him before the others, you grabbed his arm.

"Civilians aren't allowed here, get out of the way!" The Black Widow called to you, but you ignored her as Bucky turned to you. You couldn't see him in the Winter Soldier's eyes but you knew he was there. The Winter Soldier grabbed you by the throat with his metal arm and pinned you to the wall, but you tried to stop him.

"Bucky- Bucky it's me, please come back to me." You said to him and dared to reach out to hold his cheek. "Bucky I'm here, I know you can break out of this- you won't hurt me."

His hard eyes were now confused instead and he did nothing for a couple of moments before you knew you had him.

"Doll?" he whispered to you, before he pulled away from you, realizing what happened. You didn't let him get far.

"I'm here Bucky, you didn't hurt me." You took his flesh hand, shooting a daring glance at the two girls who stood there on edge. "Please don't hurt him."

You brought Bucky closer, seeing the hesitation in his eyes, you assured him.

"I've got you, you didn't hurt me. Bucky, let me keep you safe for once." You brought him closer and he sent a shaky look at the agents, eyes falling to their guns and weapons that stood ready. "Look at me."

He did, and your eyes brought him ever so closer until you could hug him properly. You held him closely, keeping a tight hold around his neck. His arms soon surrounded you, and you knew he had his eyes sharp and open, protecting you all the time, checking for potential threats.

"We need to go." He told you. You turned around when you heard footsteps approaching, and Natasha yelling at them to stand down.

"Buck?" You heard Steve's voice, but with the new people with guns, Bucky immediately pulled you back so he could stand in front of you to protect you.

"Why are you just standing there?" One of the government officials came into the room and ordered around. "Take him down!"

"No!" Both you and Steve yelled. You saw red- no one will hurt him again.

"Listen," you ignored Bucky who was adamant on keeping you behind him and you stepped forward, his hand was still on your waist. "He will do whatever it takes to keep me safe, whoever points a gun at me will be viewed as a threat that he will take out- so I suggest you move out of the room."

Steve looked puzzled between his friend and Natasha, who just shook her head at his silent question.

"Do you think I will leave a dangerous hydra asset- the Winter Soldier- alone by the hands of some girl?" Bucky's hand tightened around you.

"His name is James Bucky Barnes, not an asset- just a man." You spat out at him, "Only these five can stay- I think three avengers are more capable than you or your team to deal with this. So unless you want to lose your life because you insulted some girl- move out, now."

"Listen to the girl, Ross" Tony held his hands up and the other man walked out until it was only the two of you, Steve, Tony, Natasha, the blonde agent and Prince T'Challa. You looked at Bucky behind you before you looked at Steve.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Steve." He nodded to you, "I have heard a lot about you. And I hope you didn't change from who you used to be."

"And why is that?" Natasha spoke up.

"Because all I want is for Bucky to be safe. He hasn't been triggered in two years, not since the Triskelion. He did nothing wrong- he is just Bucky now." You interlaced your fingers with his and you felt him relax behind you.

"He killed my father." The king said and you shook your head.

"I didn't kill your father." Bucky said quietly.

"He was with me the entire time, at a different country too." You hoped they will listen to you.

"Ross will not be happy… but let's take my jet and get out of here. How does that sound?" Tony offered, "And then we can talk."

You looked back at Bucky and nodded, he smiled softly at you, and you knew you will be okay.

Yes, you would have been okay. If you were there you would have talked sense into everyone. He would have been okay if you went after him- you wouldn't have let anything happen to him. It played all out in your head like a film, but you knew the greatest films of all time were never made- all because of a single choice.

Little did you know, that when Bucky sat in his cell as the guy in front of him started reading the words- all he thought about was you. He was so glad you weren't there, he couldn't even imagine what would have happened if you had gone after him.

Bucky felt the words take over him, he shook his head trying to fight it.

"No."

But it was too late, and Bucky was stuck inside his own mind. He tried to fight him, but The Winter Soldier was in control.

It was all a blur to him, but then he saw you- he heard your voice, and suddenly all he could do was fight, trying to break free from all those years of torture just to save you- if only he could save you, he could forgive himself- he could fight.

He hoped you could still see him there, he heard you call out his name.

"Bucky- Bucky it's me, please come back to me." You said to him and dared to reach out to hold his cheek- he could feel you. "Bucky I'm here, I know you can break out of this- you won't hurt me."

He tried- he tried to break free for you and he almost did.

"Bucky-" he heard you call out to him and he was forced to watch as the spark in your eyes, that you reserved just for him, died out. He was caged- and you died because of him, because he wasn't strong enough.

Bucky tried to shake the mental image of your lifeless body from his head. He sat in that chair as the Winter Soldier took over him, you didn't know it but all he thought about back then was you and the only relief he had is that you weren't around for him to hurt.

•

But What if the story ends here?

You pulled yourself out of the memories you could have had and brought yourself back to the present, if only you had done something- anything. You looked around your apartment as you sat on the couch, your tea long forgotten. You rose up with a sigh, and you pondered how long were you going to wonder about the road not taken? He haunted all of your What Ifs. Four years ago you chose to let two blue eyes into your life- and that has made all the difference. Two years ago those blue eyes left your life- and that had changed everything.

You went to close the old bag you found, with the shiny object still in its box- you shut it and delicately put it in the bag and closed it.

You still mused over it though- if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? With each choice that you make you lose roads you won't get to take, with each coin that you toss you lose choices you won't get to make. You choose and then everything changes, and you know there is no turning back... so you wonder- What if?

If only your wishes came true, Bucky would have come back to you.

But timing is a funny thing.

You almost missed the knock on the door. Putting the mug on the table, you went to the door.

If your wishes came true, he would have chosen you.

You opened the door, coming face to face with a man you only saw on TV, with his hair now short, his left arm black and gold- so much changed but his eyes were still the same. He was still Bucky- was he still yours? You couldn't help but wonder…

"Bucky?"

"Hi, doll."

What if it began again?

•

Taglist: : @callmeluna @sstanbarnes @buckys-other-punk @drabblewithfrannybarnes @easygoingtheatre @that-one-person @justab-eautifulmess @onceupona-happilyeverafter @wipplogg @supraveng @samwilsons-pillowpecs @ayybtch @kitkatd7 @chrissquares @make-me-imagine @jessalyn-jpeg @buckybarneschokeme

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starlightshore · 3 years

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barring the no mercy route being an influence in this case, how would you describe chara's personality? I cannot describe them well at all despite them being my favorite character. they're too complex lol. all of the meta i can find at this time as them described at both extremes of innocent & evil but i don't think that's accurate

TW: discussions of canon dark topics such as abuse , death and suicide

i love talking about chara, i've talked about them at length before lmao. thank u for giving me a chance to talk about my beloved child.

you can actually read a character exploration i'm doing in a mini-arc for Askfallenroyalty. actually, if you want one condensed post, this comic sums up chara's motives

My interpretation:

chara is an abused kid and suicidal kid*(1) who ran to mount ebott to die.*(2) upon learning that monsters are made of love and humans aren't*(3), chara began to hate humanity. the deltarune prophecy*(4) makes them to be The Angel despite being a human. Feeling undeserving of this title and obligated to fulfill it, Chara wanted to be a good kid more than anything.

But then the buttercup pie incident happened. They've accidentally*(5) poisoned asgore and came up with a plan to ensure the prophecy could be fulfilled and take a hit against humanity. Two birds with one stone -who cares if it's also a personal win too? then obviously the plan goes up in flames and they and asriel are murdered. then asgore wants to kill of all humanity.

your influence*(6) gets Chara onto a path of redemption or a path of destruction, mirroring the deltarune prophecy's two main interpretations.*(7)

in summery: chara is a scared kid trying to fit into a world that demands violence by the past actions of the previous generations. The war massacred monsters and locked them up with a kill-solution -ensuring that further violence would be needed to be free, thus continuing the cycle of violence.

chara is just a kid. they knit, they make macaroni art, they loved their family and had a best friend forever.* (8) but they're also vengeful, they cared so deeply for monsterkind they were ready to die and had no idea they'd be awake as a soul, they were prepared for death. they're complicated, you can't have one side without the other. while i’ve never wanted to murder anyone, i can still relate deeply to chara and see myself in them a lot. the tragedy of them -the fact they never really got a “happy ending” like everyone else just haunts me and it’s why I spend so much time making AFR. I just... love this character so much, i want this kid to be happy. (not that it could ever be easy to get there, happy endings aren’t free.)

And frankly, seeing this hurt kid get demonized just rubs me the wrong way, and it feels completely against the morals Undertale tries to tell with it’s story. I see it as a cautionary tale against violence and dehumanizing others for the sake of hate and violence. how kids can be influenced by the violence -or kindness around them. you don’t need to forgive the ones who hurt you, but killing them is not always the solution -though sometimes necessary as framed in the Undyne the Undying fight.

People get both Undertale’s themes and chara wrong the most, and for the game that’s meant the world to me it bothers me more than it should lol. It’s a Good Story, and I don’t mean to frame my interpretation of the character or themes as 100% canon and I know Mr.Fox’s brain to confirm it kinda deal, but with all the time I’ve spent analyzing and thinking it over I do think it’s not off in the general direction of it lol. And besides the author’s intent isn’t really the end-all-to-be-all. It’s what you get out of the story and the themes that matter and stick with you. No one can take that away from you.

Sources and evidence:

"* If you're cuter, monsters won't hit you as hard." -faded ribbion flavor text * "The ends of the tools have been filed down to make them safer." -gardening tools in New Home (and iirc Toriel's home as well, too lazy to double check rn) * Where are the knives. -no mercy chara (this and paired with the previous imply there are no sharp objects in reach of chara's home because chara can't be trusted with sharp objects out of self harm. This doesn't necessarily mean abuse but paired with them hating humanity so deeply, being suicidal and a child it paints a picture of abuse.

"* I know why (chara) climbed the mountain.* It wasn't for a very happy reason." -asriel post pacifist epilogue dialogue

"* Love, hope, compassion... * This is what people say monster SOULs are made of. * But the absolute nature of "SOUL" is unknown. * After all, humans have proven their SOULs don't need these things to exist." -Library book on monster souls)

* Legend has it, an 'angel' who has seen the surface will descend from above and bring us freedom. - gerson

"* It takes at least a human soul... * And a monster soul. * ...* If you want to go home... * You'll have to take his soul. * You'll have to kill ASGORE." -Alphys. Because boss monster souls are the exception and can persist after death for a short period of time, Chara could of killed any of the family members to escape the underground. this implies escaping wasn't the goal -it was to die (considering they already attempted suicide to fall underground the first time, this is explicitly suicide.) the plaque doesn't mention or speak like monster/human fusion's consumed soul would be aware. chara had no way of knowing they'd be awake. also the whole thing with the pie is a prank. cups of butter. -> buttercups. putting flowers in a pie is a joke to do, we see Chara is similar to Toriel (they mimic her speech in the no mercy monologue, they say “greetings” as she does like how Asriel says “howdy” like Flowey does. Chara makes puns and jokes in the flavor text all the time.

https://imgur.com/a/zP18P -dog food bag at different LV. "When the protagonist first encounters Mad Dummy, they are given the option to beat it up. Choosing to beat it up prompts one of three responses depending on the protagonist's LOVE." (source: undertale wiki)

If the protagonist’s LV is 1, the response becomes "(You tap the dummy with your fist.) (You feel bad.)"

If the protagonist's LV is between 2 and 4, the response becomes "(You hit the dummy lightly.) (You don't feel like you learned anything.)"

If the protagonist’s LV is between 5 and 7, the response becomes "(You sock the dummy.) (Who cares?)"

If the protagonist’s LV is 8 or higher, the response becomes "(You punch the dummy at full force.) (Feels good.)"" This implies Chara (who is the narrator) will feel different about the dog food -which references the classic phrase of "glass half empty/full" showing your out look in life. Then hitting the dummy show's Frisk's out look on violence depending on LV. Note that by the end of it, it's no longer "you feel..." but "feels good" This is Chara.

7. “* Lately, the people have been taking a bleaker outlook...* Callin' that winged circle the 'Angel of Death.' “ -gerson “* Only the fearless may proceed. * Brave ones, foolish ones. * Both walk not the middle road. “ -the first plaque in the first puzzle room with Toriel. The idea is to walk on both the left and right sides -you can’t go half way in the middle. this mirrors the “true” endings are only accomplished if you stick to no mercy or pacifist only.

8. literally their home in New Home is a treasure trove of pre-game chara characterization.

#personal stuff #ut tag #character analysis #chara analysis #ask to tag #i put the warnings up top tho

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athenasbloodyspear · 3 years

Text

Don’t Make Me Beg Now Baby

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

Hello fellow Greta Van Freaks. This is my very first Greta fic! I hope you enjoy.

MASTERLIST

Note: This fic contains mature themes, discussions of past non-con (no members of GVF involved) and drug use. Minors DNI. 18+ only and please take care of yourselves. (See Ao3 for full tag list)

You can also read this fic on Ao3 if you prefer!

Jake Kiszka x Original Female Character

Picture this: The boys are in Northern Michigan to write the new album and they meet a wild young woman who works at a local record store who has a rough history with rock bands.

She doesn’t want to fall into the same traps she fell into before. He doesn’t want to hurt her.

The rest of them just want them to figure their shit out.

Note: While this fic is based on the members of Greta Van Fleet, I obviously do not know them personally (lol) and nearly 99% of this is a fever dream I decided to write down. Some tid bits are based on things said in interviews/photos/songs but please do not come for my neck if you dislike my portrayals as this is a STORY that I have entirely made up.

This will be a slow burn, overly dramatic, cliché fest of me missing my Mitten State and wishing more than anything I could move back home. Their music makes me homesick and for that I’ll never forgive them. ;)

Chapter Under the Cut

CHAPTER ONE: EDGE OF DARKNESS

The tiny bell on the door to “The Edge” clanked as Jake pushed his way in, followed by Josh, Sam and Danny. The afternoon sun streamed through the slats in the windows at a harsh angle, illuminating the swirling dust. The boys all immediately took a deep breath. They all loved the smell of this place. A mix of dusty old vinyl's, incense and weed.

The Edge was the shop owned by an old friend, Levi, who had been a longtime family friend of the Kiszka’s. The boys had made the near three hour drive to the shop whenever they had a spare weekend in their younger years. They bought Levi out of his guitar strings and drumsticks and always looked through the boxes of vinyl's hoping to find treasures. Levi sold an eclectic mix of music equipment, records, books, home goods and comically horrific coffee.

The Edge is where they had each bought their very first instruments, had their first beers and even smoked their first joint. It was a special place for them.

The old wood floors creaked with every step, the wood walls were covered with old articles from Rolling Stone, photos Levi had taken and autographs from the artists who had cycled through the place over the years. There were stacks upon stacks of vinyl's. Shelves of old autobiographies and music theory books. There were speakers stacked from floor to ceiling, and the whole right side of the store was jam packed with basses and guitars. The back corner had a few keyboards and a drum set, but plenty of catalogues to pick even more instruments from. There were cases of drumsticks and guitar picks and strings. The middle of the store had tables full of incense, candles and interesting home goods. There were tables where local artists sold jewelry, art pieces and furniture. It was full to the brim, most shelves rising way up to the ceiling. Most needed a ladder to reach the top. The basement had a sound studio with even more equipment set up to be used to record, or to test out.

Levi had inherited the place from his father, who had built up quite a legendary roster of friends over his years. The shop was just off Front Street on the main drag of Traverse City. Levi’s father had made a name for himself as a great host to bands looking to escape to northern Michigan to hole up in cabins and write albums. Levi continued the tradition and took it a step further by buying the space next door and turning it into a club with live music on the weekends.

If you were lucky, you could catch some super huge bands playing for only about 100 people in the dark side room of The Edge.

“You bastards finally made it!” Levi called out as he came sauntering out of the back room. Levi looked the exact same as the last time the boys had seen him. Tanned skin from his days paddle boarding and hiking along the Lake Michigan shore, sandy blonde hair that was brighter in the summer, perpetual 5-o-clock shadow because he just couldn’t be bothered to shave, shell necklace around his neck, light wash jeans low on his hips with the same old cowboy boots he’d been wearing since the boys were 12.

“Is that grey hair I see Levi?” Josh leaned forward with an exaggerated squint. Levi laughed, snagging Josh’s head to give him a noogie.

“I may be older than you punks by a few years, but I’m not greying yet.” Levi released Josh from his headlock and gave him a shove.

“I’d say 37 is more than a few years older than us, grandpa.” Sam snarked.

“You’re makin me regret extending my hospitality, kid.”

Jake felt himself relax fully for the first time in a really long time. It was just like old times. Exactly what the boys needed.

“Welcome back dudes. I’m surprised I’m still cool enough for you Rockstar types.” Levi crossed his legs and leaned back against the front counter.

“We’ll never be too cool for The Edge. This place will always be way cooler than we could ever be.” Danny piped up, walking forward to wrap Levi in a hug.

“It’s been too long man.” Levi commented as he smacked Danny on the back.

“We know.” Sam said “Way too fuckin long.” He hugged Levi next. Josh and Jake followed up with hugs next. The room was heavy with a tinge of melancholy. Old friends who had missed each other finally reunited.

“Well, have you guys been to the house yet?” Levi stepped around the counter and started pouring four cups of the famous nasty coffee.

“Yeah we dropped our bags off before we headed into town.” Danny spoke up.

“Isn’t it sweet?” Levi asked enthusiastically.

“It’s wicked man. Thanks so much for getting that set up for us.” Josh grinned as he snagged a cup off the counter.

The house was a mid century modern cabin right on the east bay shore. It came equipped with a huge garage studio, front deck and a dock out into the bay. Levi had bought the house in foreclosure and along with help from a bunch of locals (in exchange for beer of course) they turned the house into a perfect getaway for any artists looking to come take a break up north. The place had five bedrooms and three bathrooms with a giant living room with overstuffed couches and velvet chairs. The walls were covered in art and the shelves were full to bursting with plants. It was a kaleidoscope of colors and textures, with mix matched rugs and lamps. It was Levi’s pride and joy.

“I’m so glad you guys like it.” Levi smiled even bigger as he passed coffees to the rest of the boys. “Once you’re a little more settled, feel free to send me a list of equipment you want me to set up downstairs and you can start coming in whenever to work. But also, I think you should probably take a week or two off first. You all look about two seconds away from collapsing.”

“Yeah we’re pretty fuckin beat dude. But we’ll send you a list ASAP.” Jake said, taking a burning sip of the coffee. It singed his nerve endings and he couldn’t have been happier about it.

Levi opened his mouth to speak again, when a voice filtered through the window to the loft above the store.

“Yo Levi!” the person shouted “Can you please get off your fuckin ass and pick music to play? I know Wednesdays are your day to pick but if you take forever I’m just gonna put on whatever I want and you can suck it.”

All four boys' heads snapped up to the window to the loft, but whoever was up there couldn’t be seen. All they could see was that the loft had clearly gotten a makeover. What used to be an upper level where Levi stored surplus supplies now looked like it had a plush velvet couch, lava lamps and plants in it.

“Alright alright! I’ll get on it.” Levi called back up, shaking his head and chuckling to himself as he walked toward the central sound system behind the counter to scroll through Spotify playlists.

“Who the fuck is that and what have you done to the loft?” Josh asked, hopping up to sit on the counter.

“That would be the very best thing that’s ever fallen into my lap. A.k.a my new store and venue manager Maven. She moved back to the area after living in Hollywood for a few years managing bands and she completely changed my life. We finally have consistent stock, a longstanding line up at the club and I have had the time to start photography again. Truly a godsend, if not occasionally a pain in my ass. She turned the loft into a breakroom of sorts. There’s a couch and table up there now. She practically lives up there sometimes.”

“Damn she must be some woman if she finally got you to get your shit together with that club.” Sammy piped up.

“She’s hellfire, I’ll tell yah that.” Levi chuckled, finally hitting play on a playlist. The first bars of Surfin USA by the Beach Boys came on the surround system and matching groans came out of Jake downstairs and Maven upstairs.

“Not this shit again!” Maven yells. Jake chuckled to himself. Hellfire indeed.

“It’s my day to pick so suck it!” Levi called back before faux stage whispering to the boys “I mostly just play this to piss her off.”

Levi clapped his hands together once “Well boys, It’s close enough to five o'clock and I owe you a beer. Let’s head over to Little Fleet for some grub and beers and we can catch up.”

Josh grimaced as he sucked down the last bit of his coffee before lobbing the empty cup into the trash at the end of the counter. “You still make shit coffee Levi.”

“It’s the one thing I wouldn’t let Maven fix.” Levi said with a grin as all five men exited out the back door.

~0~

The boys took a week to relax, as per Levi’s request. They spent the days hiking the shore, kayaking and drinking beer around the fire. It had been way too long since they’d done this. The release of The Battle at Garden’s Gate had been exhilarating and the fans' response had been everything they’d hoped for. People seemed to love the album and they were all so proud. But with press interviews and touring, they hadn’t gotten more than a day or two to relax at a time. And they certainly hadn’t gotten a chance to get back to their favorite old haunts in years.

They stopped by the store almost every morning for a cup of coffee strong enough to jumpstart their hearts. Sometimes Levi joined them on their escapades, and sometimes he stayed behind to help out at the store. The boys spent a few afternoons sifting through albums and strumming on some of Levi’s vintage guitars.

Mostly they caught up on each other's lives. The boys recounted their more personal lives that happened outside the coverage of the album and Levi talked about the past few years of his life in Traverse City. Levi told them all about Maven and how she was practically his little sister. They laughed. They drank. They had a blast.

The boys noticed Levi was a little on edge occasionally, typically when they heard someone shuffling upstairs or equipment moving around in the backroom of the shop. They assumed it was Maven but weren’t sure, since they had yet to see her in the flesh. A week from their arrival they were all sitting in lawn chairs in the alley behind the store, smoking cigs and drinking their coffee when Sam finally asked.

“So, why haven’t we met your precious Maven yet? Hiding her from us or something?”

Levi shifted a bit in his chair. “Um..” he coughed out a laugh. “I am actually. Yes. But it’s the other way around, I’m hiding you from her.”

“Afraid she’ll fan-girl or something?” Josh commented as he ashed his cigarette.

“In… a sense.” Levi coughed. “But in quite the opposite way you’re imagining.”

“She’s a fan then?” Sammy piped up.

“She loves your music. A lot.” Levi sniffed and coughed again. “It’s a real safe haven for her. When she’s having a bad day I catch her upstairs laying on the floor smoking a J with sound cancelling headphones blasting your albums as loud as she can.”

“Exactly how it’s meant to be enjoyed. With a joint in hand.” Jake chimes in.

“Yeah..” Levi toes the asphalt a bit with his boots, but doesn’t continue.

“Soooo” Sammy drawls “Why can’t we meet her? We’re no stranger to super fans. I’m sure she’s cool.”

“Um, well. It’s a bit complicated.” Levi heaves a sigh before flicking his cigarette butt into the coffee canister at the center of their little circle. “I suppose I can trust you guys. You’re friends. Do you remember the huge lawsuit that the band Undercover Heart went through last year? The one about the um” He coughs again, “Rape of one of their staff members by the lead singer Ryan?”

“Yes. That shit was horrific man.” Danny spoke up. “I read all the details I could. They kept the poor girl's identity private but goddamn I felt so bad for her. She was a badass for filing that suit though.”

“Yeah. She was.” Levi breathed. “So, this is strictly off record and if you repeat this to anyone I will skin you all alive, famous rock stars be damned.”

“Jesus Levi.” Jake said.

“It was her.” Levi choked out. “Maven. That’s why she ran back from Hollywood and ended up here. That dude messed her up and she just… she struggles with meeting famous bands now. You know how many people cycle through this joint writing stuff. She just… has a really fuckin hard time with it sometimes. Particularly bands she likes. I think it’s because once you meet someone, and in her case, discover how much of a monster they can be, their music isn’t… safe anymore.”

“Fuck.” Jake said, flicking his cigarette into the canister.

“Well I feel terrible for joking about her being a fangirl.” Josh mutters.

“She just genuinely loves you guys a lot. I never really told her I was an old friend because I didn’t want her to be worried about y’all stopping by. I just know that if she knows you’re here she’ll take off and avoid coming by the shop as much as she can and not only do I need her here, but I think she needs the safety of the shop too. I didn’t want to wreck it.” Levi sighs again. “I know she’ll find out you’re here eventually, it’s inevitable. I just was a coward and didn’t want to break the news to her.”

“She was a pretty well known band manager wasn’t she?” Danny asks. “She like… completely made Undercover Heart what it was. Before they hired her they were slated to be a one hit wonder but she hauled them into relevancy basically by her will alone.”

“Yeah. She basically built that man's career for him. She gave him everything, and he took everything from her. If I ever see the man I’m liable to get my ass thrown in prison.” Levi mutters.

“I’ll help.” Danny says immediately.

All five sit in silence for a few minutes, smoking the last of their cigarettes. When they’d all finished, they stood and stretched to head back inside the shop.

“So yeah. Anyway, If you see her that’s fine, just… well now you have context for… her.” Levi says as he yanks open the door.

A few steps into the back hallway, Levi suddenly halts, causing all four boys to nearly bash into each other. The front door to the shop had crashed open and there were footsteps stomping across the store toward the front desk.

“Listen Levi,” Maven’s tense voice carried down the back hall. “I know Wednesdays are usually your day for music but I’m having an absolute shit fucking day so I’m playing Greta all day and there’s absolutely nothing you can fucking do about it, kapeesh?”

The very opening chords of Edge of Darkness scratch through the speakers after she finishes her sentence and the boys all exchange a slightly amused look, grins spread on all of their faces.

“Kapeesh.” Levi calls out to her. He spins and silently nods to the boys to head toward the back door. The boys attempt to be as quiet as they can as they creep toward the door.

“Also, Levi?” Maven calls again. Everyone halts in their tracks. “You said there was a band coming in soon. Are they here yet? Do you need me to set up the backroom?”

“Uh, yeah they’re here.” Levi squeaks. All five men share nervous looks. “They’re uh… up at the house.” He cringes at his lie. “I’m getting an equipment list from them today and then you can get started.

“Cool cool.” Maven calls back. “Do you think I’ll like their stuff?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Levi grins then. “I think you will.”

“Wicked.” Maven calls back.

All five men repress giggles as they skedaddle out the back door and into the alley.

~0~

The next morning the boys wake up to a group text from Levi.

COME BY THE SHOP ASAP. COME IN BACK DOOR. HEAD DOWN THE STAIRS TO THE BOOTH. BE AS QUIET AS YOU CAN.

A weird request, but they did as they were told. They all piled into the SUV they had rented and headed to the shop. Danny peeled open the back door as quietly as he could, and Sammy opened the door to the stairs. They tiptoed down and through the door at the end of the stairs that opened into the booth of a sound studio. Levi sat in front of all the mixing boards with a cup of coffee to his lips. He glanced over at them and softly said “coffees on the table.”

“Why the weird text?” Jake asked.

“Because of that.” Levi responded softly, pointing through the dark glass into the soundstage.

The sound stage was littered with mismatched rugs, and a few milk crates that doubled as tables. There was a gorgeous seafoam green drum set toward the back wall and stands full of various guitars and basses. Along the left wall was a piano and a Mellotron set up exactly to the specifications Sam sent over. However, with all these beautiful instruments to look at that would normally catch their eye, it was the woman sitting on stool in the center, cradling a dark purple Fender guitar that made Jake stop in his tracks.

Maven, Jake had to guess that’s who it was, was wearing checkered distressed pants, with a ripped up old band t-shirt cropped at her ribs, revealing a sliver of the rounded part of her stomach. Over top she was wearing an orange leopard print cardigan that ran down to her thighs. Around her neck was a series of long necklaces, and her wrists were adorned with interlacing leather bands.

She was plucking out a melody with her eyes closed, rocking back and forth on the stool. Jake had seen countless numbers of people playing the guitar before. On the road, in the studio, studying old masters on YouTube. There was nothing overly special about the way she was sitting or playing, but he felt a little bit like he couldn’t breathe.

“She never fuckin plays anymore man.” Levi whispered. “It felt like magic hearing music coming out of the basement this morning. I just felt like you should see it.”

The melody she was playing was sad. Haunting is a better way to put it, and Jake couldn’t look away. Not even when Sammy placed a cup of burning hot coffee into his hands. She was moving her head along with her playing, the strands of her dark messy hair shaking back and forth. The group watched in silence as she played out the riff a few times, Levi cranked the volume of the mics in the space and they could hear her humming softly.

“She has a strong presence.” Josh murmured.

Maven suddenly stopped. Everyone froze as she heaved a sigh and stood from the stool to put the guitar back on it’s rack.

“You in there Levi?” Maven said then. The boys still didn’t move a muscle. Jake’s head was spinning, having finally seen the face that went with the voice he’d heard in the loft for a week. She was beautiful. He couldn’t even really put his finger on why, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even seeing her through the thick dark glass of the studio.

Levi hit the button to the mic in the booth and responded “Yah.” He paused before adding. “Sounded good.”

Maven snorted in a self-deprecating way and said “Thanks.”

Levi hit the mic button again and said “You should play more.”

“Don’t push it Levi.” Maven snapped back. Levi released the button to his mic and let out a heavy sigh. “Can you check some levels on the lines for me? I think I have everything pretty good but I want to make sure before they get here today.”

“Sure.” Levi replied.

Maven pulled the amp cord out of the Fender she had been playing on and plugged it into another guitar, one more similar to the guitars that Jake regularly used while they wrote.

“Are we looking for a punk or a rock-y sound?” Maven asked.

“Um.” Levi hesitated. “Rock. Their sound is like…” He tossed a small smile over his shoulder at the boys. “Like Greta’s actually.”

“Dope. I hope they’re not just copying the boys. They’ve got a mellotron in here and everything.” The boys smiled. She pounded out a few chords on the guitar. “Good?”

Levi looked over at Jake for confirmation. Jake, who still had not taken his eyes off Maven, nodded.

“Yeah, that should be good for raw sound. They can play with stuff too. They’re a pretty well educated bunch.” Levi called back.

“Thank god.” Maven snorted. “Not like that indie punk bunch you booked last month who needed me to do fucking all their sound mixing for them.”

“Maven, I don’t think they kept asking you down here because they need help with their sound.”

Maven just rolled her eyes at that.

They repeated the process with each instrument, Levi silently asking for confirmation from the respective Greta member until they were sure the sound lines were all functioning properly.

“Great work kid.” Levi called into the studio.

“Ew don’t call me kid. I’m a 27 year old woman.” Maven called back.

Levi chuckled. “You’re a kid to me.”

“Whatever.” Maven muttered. “I’m gonna go take a walk along the beach. Smoke a little. Text me if they need me.”

“Will do.” Levi called back. The boys all tensed, looking for places to hide, or to run up the stairs and back into the alley. Luckily, Maven took the back door out of the studio and up another hallway instead.

“Well boys, it’s all you.” Levi said. “Text if you need anything.”

Sam piped up and said “Yeah actually, can you pick my brother’s jaw up off the floor?”

“Jake see pretty lady play guitar and Jake brain break.” Josh teased.

“You guys suck.” Jake grumbled.

Levi cackled. “I thought you’d like her.”

~0~

Maven walked along the coast of the bay and absentmindedly smoked a joint. It was an overcast and drizzly day which meant there was no one around, which she preferred anyway. She was feeling on edge. The drizzle was very slowly building a small sheen of water on her arms and hair, but she didn’t mind. The cool water and gentle breeze combination was perfect.

Maven sat her butt down in the sand and stared out at the waves. She normally wore headphones on her walks, her world was a near constant stream of music, but she had opted for silence today.

Levi was being weird. He was edgy around her all week, sending her out every morning for tasks and disappearing without saying where he was going around 4:30 every day. She had come to the conclusion that whatever band was in town this week was a pretty big name. Or big enough that he was nervous about her being around them. She sighed. She hated when he tiptoed around her. Maven didn’t blame him. When she first started working at the shop she had had a couple pretty bad PTSD episodes that had scared the shit out of him. She owed him everything for staying with her, talking her down and making sure she was fed and had water when she got into one of her states.

Levi was her best friend, to put it mildly. He cared for her, kept her safe and in return she busted her ass at his store making sure they had the best products, the best shows and that their artist getaway was something that people would go back and tell their friends about. She loved Levi like an older brother, and he cared for her like his little sister. She would forever be grateful to whatever power in the universe made her stumble into The Edge two years ago.

She had been high out of her mind, as she had been most days after she came running back to Michigan with her tail between her legs, and Levi had been struggling with an amp in the shop. She had walked in, spotted his struggle and didn’t even say a word to him, just walked over and fixed the wiring so that it was functional again. Levi had looked up from where he sat on the floor and said “You don’t happen to need a job do you?”

The rest was essentially history. It only took two months of seeing him every single day, and him not letting her sour moods go by unnoticed, for her to spill her guts over some bourbon one night. About Ryan and Undercover Heart and how badly the whole situation fucked her up. How after she’d recorded her testimony she’d boarded the next flight to Grand Rapids and hightailed it up north. She came crash landing into Traverse City because she’d always loved it as a kid, and figured it would be a great place to start over. The small town she’d grown up in had too many people who knew her.

He was extra careful with bands for a while. Never letting her be alone in a room with too many male band members, and carefully vetting everyone who came through. Eventually she told him off about treating her like a porcelain doll and he backed down a bit, giving her free reign over lots of the equipment set ups and giving her plenty of hours in the shop by herself. She was happy to do so, so Levi could focus on fixing up the artist house and starting his photography again.

But he was still very gentle with her sometimes, and she’d always love him for it even when it pissed her the fuck off.

Once she’d smoked the joint down to the roach, she tucked the end into her pocket. It was sacrilegious to litter near the lake. It was too precious to be fucked with. She meandered back toward the shop. Her plan was to grab her bag and head back to let her Pitbull, Stacy, out for a walk and pee. The girl had been cooped up all morning and Maven felt bad.

She threw her whole body against the front door, as the latch often stuck, and the loud sound of the chimes clanged in the empty space. She rolled her eyes. Of course Levi left the shop unattended and unlocked. It was Traverse City, no one was gonna rob them, but what if someone wanted to buy something?

She was humming softly to herself as she made her way around the edge of the counter and plopped down on the stool by the register. She whipped out her phone to ask Levi where he was. She had the message halfway typed when the door behind her, the one that led to the staff restroom, popped open.

“You know, crime is especially low in this town but that doesn’t mean someone wouldn’t come in here and try to steal your precious coffee maker.” She tossed over her shoulder.

“Oh.” Was all that came back. It was decidedly not Levi’s voice. Maven spun back quickly.

“Sorry I…” But that’s as far as she got. She was suddenly face to face with Jake Kizska and all thoughts quickly left her brain.

They both stared at each other for a long moment. Maven couldn’t quite figure out why he looked just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. He also almost looked afraid for some reason that Maven couldn’t figure out.

He was dressed in an outfit she’d seen him wear plenty of times. A black button up, half unbuttoned, loose fitting light wash jeans and a pair of well worn boots. His wrists were full of bracelets and his hair was longer than the last time she’d seen footage of their concerts, well past his collarbones at this point.

“Hi.” Jake finally broke the silence. “I’m Jake.” He reached out his hand for a handshake.

“I know.” Maven replied, and then coughed. Why did you say that you freak?

Suddenly the front door bell chimed again, and Maven whipped her head to see Levi coming in the front door. She stood abruptly from her stool, skirted around Jake’s outstretched hand, and out from behind the counter. She scooped up her leather satchel on her way.

She headed straight at Levi. He glanced over his shoulder and saw an apologetic Jake looking forlorn and lowering his hand back to his side.

“Oh hey Maven-”

“Hey dumbass, don’t leave the store unattended again. I’m going home to check on Stacy. Probably won’t be back for the rest of the day.” Maven spit as she stormed past him toward the front door.

“Maven wait-”

But she was already outside, the hinges bringing the heavy wood crashing back into the frame. The chime of the bells rang through the space.

“Sorry.” Jake muttered.

“Not your fault. I knew she’d find out eventually. Right now she’s probably just pissed I didn’t tell her. Which she has every right to be.” Levi sighed.

After a few more beats of silence Jake spoke again. “Who’s Stacy?”

Levi huffed a laugh. “That would be her Pitbull.”

“Oh.” Jake said again. He felt crazy because his brain couldn’t come up with anything else to say. She was prettier up close. She smelled like the Lake and weed and sandalwood. He really wished she’d taken his hand. He shook his head trying to find his brain in it somewhere.

The other three boys came clambering up the stairs and into the store. They all looked between Levi, who was still standing in the middle of the shop, and Jake behind the counter.

“Are you two playing freeze tag or something?” Sam quipped.

“Jake met Maven.” Levi responded. The boys' heads whipped toward Jake.

“And… I’m guessing it… went well?” Danny questioned.

Levi finally walked back toward the counter. “She left for the day. This is on me. I should have told her y’all were here.” He snagged his keys from below the counter and walked toward the front door to lock up. “I’m closing early, boys. Let’s go get a beer.”

“Kowabunga baby.” Josh said with a grin.

~0~

Maven sat curled up on her velvet couch, Stacy was her little spoon. There was incense burning, a bottle of wine open on the side table and a lit joint in the ashtray. She had changed into a giant t-shirt and boxer shorts. The soft sounds of John Denver playing off her record player.

However, none of these things were easing her mind.

She was pissed, mostly. At herself. At Levi. She was pissed he didn’t tell her they were coming. She was pissed that he felt he couldn’t tell her. She was pissed that she had acted like a freak in front of Jake.

The anxiety was an endless pit in her stomach. She couldn’t go back there tomorrow. She couldn’t see any of those people. Not when she felt like this.

She whipped out her phone and quickly shot a message to Levi, before chugging her whole glass of red wine and snagging the joint out of the ashtray.

~0~

Levi’s phone dinged on the table where all of the guys sat drinking beers and chatting. Levi glanced at it and quickly picked it up when he saw her name.

“It’s Maven.” He said.

“What did she say?” Jake asked, sitting up a bit in his chair.

“Fuck.” Levi said, tossing his phone on the table, still unlocked.

All four boys leaned in to read the screen.

CASHING IN ALL MY VACATION DAYS. I’LL BE OUT FOR TWO WEEKS.

“Fuck indeed.” Josh said, pounding back the rest of his beer.

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #greta fic #jake fic #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta fan fleet fic #peaceful army

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augment-techs · 2 years

Text

Song Lyrics Writing Prompts II:

You asked if I love you//Well look at me//Of course I do//I love you with my life; (Stay reprise, The Count of Monte Cristo the Musical)

Twinkle, sparkle, let a little sunshine in//You’ll be happy hearted, once you get it started; (Chin Up, Charlotte’s Web)

I look at myself, and instead I see us//Whoever I am now, it feels like enough; (Looking Through Your Eyes, Quest for Camelot)

I'm addicted, I'm dependent//Looking awesome, feeling helpless//And I know I'm raising Cain by every highway in Hell//Maybe things won't be so terrible inside this hotel; (Addict, Hazbin Hotel)

Do you love me the way you hold me//’Cus you hold me like you love me; (Do You Love Me Like You Kiss Me, Romance & Cigarettes)

You're looking pretty sick kid//No you don't look too well//You're eyes are sunk from all that junk//You're on your way to hell; (All American Girl, Angry Johnny and the Killbillies)

It's so hard to reason with a heart out of control//Why wait to hear an answer, when it's too soon to know; (Maybe Love, Steven McClintock)

Their mistake is they got old//That is not a mistake we’ll be making//We’ll stay young FOREVER; (Watch What Happens, Newsies)

Say that I'm crazy or call me a fool//But last night it seemed that I dreamed about you; (Proud Corazon, Anthony Gonzalez)

The opposite of war isn't peace...It's creation!; (La Vie Boheme Part 2, Rent)

Deception (An outrage!)//Disgrace (For shame!)//He asked for trouble the moment he came; (Not One of Us, The Lion King 2)

In me bag a long knife carries//For to cut mince pies from children's thighs//In which to feed the faeries; (Bedlam Boys, Kerstin Blodig & Ian Melrose)

Put on my blue suede shoes, and I boarded the plane//Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues//In the middle of the pouring rain; (Walking in Memphis, Cher Cover)

I will always be with you//Like a guardian angel, constant and true//When you're lost in the night, and you can't see the light//My love will see you through; (I Will Always Be With You, Jesse Corti and Sheena Easton)

This once proud vessel has become a floating psycho ward; (Cabin Fever, Muppet Treasure Island)

If you get hurt (if you get hurt) by the little things I say//I can put that smile back on your face; (Right Back Where We Started From, Maxine Nightingale)

Get ready for an unexpected trip//When you fall screaming from an open window; (Your Horoscope for Today, Weird Al Yankovic)

I'll make a wish for you//And hope it will come true//That life would just be kind//To such a gentle mind; (Remember Me This Way, Jordan Hill)

We are all brought forth out of darkness//Into this world, through blood and through pain; (Savage Daughter, Sarah Hester Ross)

Your booty shaking, you know//Your head has no right to say no//Tonight it's "Ready, set, go!"; (Lone Digger, Caravan Palace)

So when I'm crying alone, yeah, when I'm cold as a dying stone//Grow me a garden of roses; (Roses, Poets of the Fall)

Oh why, that's what I keep askin'//Was there anything I could have said or done//Oh I, had no clue you were masking a troubled soul, one only knows//What went wrong; (Why, Rascal Flatts)

What gives you the right to do this?//Just reveal your true face to us; (Who Are You, Count?, The Count of Monte Cristo)

Goodness knows, the wicked’s lives are lonely//Goodness knows, the wicked die alone; (No One Mourns the Wicked, Wicked the Musical)

Heaven, I fancy, has no place for me//And I can find Hell on my Own; (Lucy Meets Hyde, Jekyll & Hyde)

#writing prompts #lyrics prompts #ask me something!!!#boom! comics power rangers #Mighty Morphin Comics #go go power rangers comics #power rangers RPM #Power Rangers SPD #power rangers samurai #Power Rangers: Soul of the Dragon #power rangers: the psycho path #power rangers dino fury #shattered grid #Ranger Slayer #world of the coinless #gender neutral pronouns

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peachyteez · 3 years

Text

mint chocolate chip ice cream ≫ EPILOGUE.

this abandoned, shy bunny hybrid loves hanging around the open field area of the recovery facility. one day, with the help of jungkook, another bunny hybrid, jiyu meets mingi. after days of mingi being too shy and running away from her, a bag of carrots and mint chocolate ice chip cream was all it took to seal the deal.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist:@defsoul15, @jaeminpeachy, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @koasworld, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny, @pirate-of-the-dark-seas, @babydolljo, @ms-starlight, @everrrlasting, @bls-luv-me, @atzgiggle, @arohabyeol, @rainbowmagicpixecorn, @soverystupid, @ayetothezee

✧ notes: this epilogue actually focuses on jiyu a bit more and what’s going on behind the scenes (sort of) 😅

back。

“this phone call’s a week late, miss,” yuta’s teasing tone came from the other end.

jiyu playfuly rolled her eyes. “be glad i even called,” she retorted. she could feel yuta’s small pout and see his drooped ears. “i’m kidding, it was a busy week since we get a lot of new hybrids in the facility during the winter every year. but thank you for bringing me the papers.”

yuta hummed in acknowledgement. “i will say, though. for someone who mistreated their hybrid, she put up a pretty good fight in trying to keep him for herself, even though she made no attempts to even look for him in the first place,” yuta remembered the rigourous process it took for him to force the woman to hand over mingi’s adoption documents.

jiyu’s face hardened as she thought about yuta’s words. “it was probably leverage over him. she knew that he couldn’t actually leave her if she still had his papers, so she kept them as a way to have mingi still obey her. it’s quite disgusting.” a shiver—both from disgust and the chilly breeze that blew by—ran through her spine.

jiyu sat on the couch of the penthouse terrace, looking out at the bright lights of seoul during the night. even though she was adorned in her puffer jacket, she still felt the wind biting at her skin. taking her eyes off the view of the city, she turned in to look at her four hybrids curled by the fireplace, their eyes glued to the tv. it warmed her heart seeing them relax without a care in the world.

“your father doesn’t know, does he?” yuta carefully asked. he knew the topic of her father was a sore spot for her.

biting the inside of her cheek, anxiety began to creep up in her heart at the thought of her father finding out what she’s been up to. it wasn’t that he hated hybrids; but because her late mother was also formerly a hybrid caretaker before getting married, her father’s views on hybrids soured over the years. they reminded him of his wife.

“no, he can find out when i come back,” jiyu firmly said. “has he...said anything about me?” she meekly added. the reason she asked: she never responded to her father about her choices in potential suitors, so she had a feeling her father was up to something behind her back.

she heard yuta sigh, and her heart slightly dropped. “i wasn’t supposed to tell you, but your father grew impatient and chose someone for you. he had me visit them and everything.”

“...oh.” she pinched her nosebridge and her grip on her phone tightened. “who did he choose?” she asked. as much as she wanted to scream, protest, anything, she knew it’s be useless. her father’s words were final, no one could go against them, and it made her blood boil everytime he played her like a puppet for his own benefits.

“kim, sunwoo...?” yuta said, hoping it’d ring a bell in her head. “he’s the son of one of our long-time business partners.”

jiyu remembered his file on the list. he was the heir to kim corportations. no doubt her father chose him since combining the shares of both hwang enterprises and kim corporations would indeed boost both companies. it’s a win-win situation.

“hm, i see.” she also knew her father would call her soon to relay his decisions to her.

the terrace door slid open and a half-asleep mingi waddled out. he rubbed his eyes with his fists. jiyu’s face immediately melted from a stone-cold expression into a smile. “i’ll call you back, yuta. thanks again for everything.”

“of course, miss,” yuta added before quickly hanging up before jiyu could give him an earful about the title again.

“this kid...” jiyu mumbled under her breath with a wry smile before putting her phone down. she pat the seat next to her, telling mingi to sit down since he looked like he was about to fall asleep standing up.

mingi gratefully took her offer and plopped down next to her. his head dropped onto her shoulder and he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. her scent relaxed him—the smell of her peach shampoo and body wash was way better than his previous owners smell of heavy, dizzying perfume.

“what’s up, buddy? sleepy?” she chuckled as she ran her hand through his fading-red hair, ignoring the ticklish feeling of his bunny ears against her cheek. she noted his thin layer of clothes and frowned. reaching up, she turned on the heat lamp that was next to the couch. “you’re going to get sick, bubs.”

mingi hummed as he curled closer to jiyu. “it’s okay...i’m used to the cold,” he mumbled, his eyes fighting to stay open.

jiyu’s heart ached when the words left his mouth. i wonder if anyone cared for him if he did get sick...i mean maybe yunho...but what about when yunho wasn’t there?

before her thoughts could grow any deeper, the door slid open again, only this time, the other three came out carrying a heap of blankets and handwarmers. jiyu cocked her head in confusion.

“what are you all—”

“blanket pile!” yunho laughed as he threw a blanket onto jiyu and mingi’s lap before sliding in next to mingi. seonghwa and hongjoong sat by jiyu’s side, and soon, the fivewere cuddled together on the couch covered by blankets to keep them warm along with the heating lamp.

soft snores came from mingi, making them smile as they fondly looked at the bunny hybrid resting on jiyu. the fire and the lights from the inside bathed the terrace in a warm, orange color. jiyu contently sighed; everything was so peaceful and perfect, she hated for it to all change soon.

seonghwa rested his cheek on top of her head, careful of hongjoong’s body slightly leaning on his. “everything okay?” he quietly asked. he had taken several glances at her when she was calling yuta, and he noted her emotionless, yet angered expressions.

jiyu nodded. “don’t worry, everything’s okay,” she reassured, although she was trying to convince herself more than she was telling seonghwa and the others. “what movie did you guys watch?” she quietly asked as to not wake up the sleeping giant bunny.

“yunho wanted to watch avengers so we watched the first one,” hongjoong replied, his tone growing languid and lazy the more he relaxed. “were you calling yuta?”

jiyu smiled before reaching past seonghwa to gently pet hongjoong’s head. “yeah, i never thanked him for helping us with mingi since the recovery center grew pretty busy this week.”

“he’s a black cat hybrid, right?” yunho curiously asked as he gently leaned onto mingi. “i’ve never seen one before, but i heard they were really elegant. and they were right!” he smiled.

jiyu stifled a chuckle. yuta? elegant? that’s what he may seem like to strangers but he was the same man that trips over his own two feet when they were just walking. “elegant may not be the best word to describe yuta, but it fits during some ocassions,” she joked. “i remember once he bumped into a man carrying a stack of files and he let out the most ungracious yelp and his arms flailed everywhere when he fell.” she chuckled at the memory.

they all chuckled, surprised of the cat’s clumsiness when he seemed all cool and mysterious to them when he visited to hand over mingi’s papers. “he sounds like mingi,” yunho chuckled. “he gets scared pretty easily and can let out some ungracious yelps, too.”

that i have to agree with. she thought with a smile when she remembered their first meetings.

“now my only concern,” she suddenly said, catching their attention, “is how we’re going to get mingi inside.”

“can we honestly just sleep out here?” hongjoong asked, too comfy and relaxed to move. “it’s really comfy...”

“we’re all going to catch colds though, even though we’re drowing in blankets and the heat lamp is on,” jiyu reasoned.

“we’ll keep you warm!” yunho added as he leand more onto mingi, causing him to press closer to jiyu. “sleeping out here won’t be that bad of an idea! it’s pretty warm, too.”

“hm...for once, i’m actually okay with this idea, too,” seonghwa mumbled, his eyes and ears drooping tiredly. “we’re all too comfy and sleepy to move...so sleeping out here doesn’t seem too bad...” he yawned as he nuzzled his face into the other side of her neck.

"alright...but don’t blame me if you all get colds tomorrow,” she quietly laughed as the four hybrids drifted off to dreamland. she looked at their sleeping faces as if etching the scene into her memory. everything was perfect.

“but nothing stays perfect for long...” she whispered under her breath. she knew that soon, everything would change once she had to return home. but until then, she swore to all the stars in the sky that she would make their time worth it; she swore that she would give them all the love that they deserve.

now and forever.

✧ notes (cont.): our lovely mingi is complete! i miss him so much but i hope he’s okay and doing well 🥺❤️ i’m really glad kq let him rest to take care of his mental health. mental (and physical) health should always be a priority!

next up on the list, yeosang!

#9th member of ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez angst #song mingi #song mingi imagines #mingi imagines #mingi scenarios #ateez mingi #hybrid au #kpop hybrid au #ateez hybrid #hybrid!ateez #ateez au

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

Text

pirate king (11) || atz

He pulls you through the town, back to the harbor where you can see several ships docked in the piers. But to your surprise, Jongho doesn’t lead you back to the Treasure. Instead, he drags you to a small bakery selling pastries and sweets.

You turn to him confusedly. “Jongho-hyung, what are we doing here?”

“Pick three cakes.” He gestures at the shelves. The establishment is neat and well kept for a pirate town, and the cakes look rather high quality compared to the other shops you saw earlier. It must be expensive. But since he told you to do it, you obey.

The shop owner takes your pastries and puts them in a little paper bag. Then Jongho adds several more cakes to the order, until his arms are laden with bags of sweet treats.

“Let’s sit.” He tells you gruffly, pulling you to one of the tables outside and sitting you down. You continue staring at him in complete bewilderment even as he pulls out your pastry and sets it in front of you.

“Eat.”

Your mouth falls open. Then you lean forward, pressing a palm against Jongho’s forehead as you look into his eyes intently. “Jongho-hyung, are you experiencing any dizziness or discomfort?”

The maknae jerks back at the contact, face twisted in a confused scowl as he shakes his head. “What? No! What are you-”

“You need to be honest with me, Jongho-hyung.” You look into his eyes carefully, searching for wavering pupils or the like and your voice drops to a secretive whisper. “Have you been drinking without telling Seonghwa-hyung?”

“No! Why are you even asking me this? I'm not being weird!” Jongho yelps as he scoots back further from you, the sound of his chair dragging across the stone floor making both of you wince. “I'm not drunk! I’m not sick either!”

“Okay…” You continue to stare at him with worried eyes as you take a bite of your puff, the sweet taste of cream spreading over your tongue. The young battlemaster sighs.

“I just wanted to talk to you.” He glances away from you for a moment to collect his thoughts, before he opens his mouth to speak again.

“I don't hate you, okay?”

His words are mumbled under his breath, so you lean across the table to hear him more clearly.

“What?”

“I don't hate you!” He shouts, clearly embarrassed. His cheeks are tinged pink and you look at him in surprise.

“Shut up, kid!” One of the bakery’s patrons shouts at the two of you and you shy back into your chair, feeling your cheeks burning.

“Oh.” Is all you manage.

You’re a little shocked. With how he’d been treating you this while, you thought he’d hated you, loathed you, even. While you weren’t sure why, you had thought he had disliked you immensely.

“Wipe that dumb look from your face before I smack it off.” Jongho grunts, and you realise that your lips are pulled into a wide grin. Hurriedly, you try to hide your Cheshire Cat smile, but it’s impossible. “I mean it!”

Finally with much difficulty, you press your face into a poor attempt at a serious look, much to Jongho’s chagrin. He sighs, slapping a hand against his forehead.

“I’m just awkward with new people, okay?” You’ve never seen the young battlemaster this skittish. Even in battle, he’s always possessed some kind of quiet, silent self confidence, not an ounce of self doubt in him. “And I was always the youngest till you came along, so I’m not sure how I’m supposed to… take care of you.”

You’re oddly touched by this for a moment. This strong man, who can handle even the fiercest of enemies, awkward and shy… because he doesn’t know how to take care of you.

A giggle somehow manages to leave your mouth. “That’s cute.”

“What! No!” Jongho cries in horror, looking desperate now. “I’m not cute-” A disgusted glower paints his face as the last word passes his lips.

“Boy, shut up before I come over and shoot you myself!” The shopkeeper bellows from behind the counter, and Jongho slumps back into his seat, groaning in despair at your irrepressible smile.

“Forget I said anything.” His words are muffled against the table top.

The two of you sit in peace for a long moment. It’s silent, like how it was between the two of you before, but where there was discomfort, now there is a happy warmth that fills you from the inside. Maybe it is because you’ve lost your memories, but with every new person that you meet, they root and grow themselves in your heart.

“Jongho-hyung…” You suddenly speak up, breaking the silence you two had been enjoying. The young battlemaster raises an eyebrow as he looks over at you questioningly. “What song did you sing when I was tied to the mast?”

“Song?” He frowns, but you can see baby pink blossoming on his cheeks like cherry blossom petals. “I sing a lot. Do you remember the lyrics?”

You recite what you remember. “Born on the wrong side of the ocean…”

“Ahh.” A small, sad smile pulls at the corners of Jongho’s mouth, the look softening his serious expression as he glances towards the harbor. The sun has just begun to set, the rosy light casting Jongho in a halo of warm oranges and pastel pinks. “It’s an old song. My mother used to sing it to me when I was still a child.”

The look on his face is forlorn, a little happy, a little sad, a little wistful. His eyes seem to be looking at something so far away, gazing at some point in his past that you can’t see.

“Jongho-hyung… where is your mother?”

That snaps the maknae out of his thoughts, the smile falling from his face as he inhales deeply. “She’s dead now. Died of consumption a few years ago. Didn’t get the medicine she needed and left. She’s in a better place now.”

You blink once. “That’s sad.” The cream puff is finished off, and you lean back to look at Jongho. His gaze never leaves the ocean as he continues to speak.

“Dad died before she did. In a hurricane offshore. Never got to see a trace of him again except the smashed up remains of his boat.” He points to a piece of tattered white fabric he wears around his shoulders. “This is from the wreckage.”

His voice is thick with emotion, but his face remains solidly strong. You feel something stirring in your chest, something that seems to want to swallow your lungs whole. You frown and touch your chest. Is there something wrong with you?

“But enough about my sad backstory. What’s over is over, and what’s left for me to do is move on.” Jongho’s voice doesn’t waver at all as he thumps his chest. “They live on in here. I’ll live well for the two of them and never shed a tear again. Can’t let them be worried about me.”

His smile returns, a genuine and powerful one this time. For a moment, you’re so lost in it that you can barely breathe. Jongho is the epitome of strong. Not just physically, but in the heart, and in every sense of the word.

“Anyway, what about you, stowaway?” He cocks his head as he shoves a meat stuffed bun into his mouth. You look confused for a moment. What past do you have to tell? “What’s with that necklace around your neck?”

Ah. Your fingers reach up to stroke the silver chain resting against your delicate collarbones. Your only link to your past, the last thread you have connecting you to who you were before.

“I don’t know.” You murmur softly, feeling a lump rise in your throat. “I woke up with it.”

“I know Hongjoong-hyung said you’re an amnesiac.” Jongho looks at you firmly, but curiosity brims behind his eyes. “But do you really remember… nothing?”

You close your eyes. For a second, white dances behind your eyelids, the sound of sea crashing against the shore filling your ears and rain touches your face.

Then a single, unblinking red eye looms into your mind.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes fly open. You can still see it, a monstrous thing, a dark, hulking shape in the depths that has been forever chasing you… following you…

You’re not sure how Jongho will react right now if you tell him you could hear the voice of a giant squid monster which was chasing the Treasure, so you merely hold your tongue and shake your head.

Jongho is silent for a moment.

Then suddenly he rises to his feet, abruptly grabbing you by the arm. You follow, a little stunned by his strange change in demeanor, and Jongho whirls to look at you with resolution carved into his face.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose.” The young battlemaster swipes the sweet smudge off with a finger and licks it off, to your horror.

“That’s disgusting, Jongho-hyung.” You scrunch up your nose, but you’re not sure why he’s suddenly so eager to do something. Jongho begins pulling you somewhere, much to your surprise.

“Where are we going?”

“When I first came to Tortuga, I had just lost my parents and joined the crew.” Jongho tells you earnestly, leading you down past the harbor to a more lively, darker part of town by the shore. Many street vendors and shopkeepers with makeshift booths line the wooden docks, all offering some sort of rare, exotic wares, but Jongho simply brushes past all of them without a second glance. “And by coincidence, I visited a fortune teller.”

“I didn’t peg you for the superstitious type, hyung.” Is all you say as you take in the new environment all around you. The place is a little shady, with suspicious characters slinking away at every turn and dark, hooded men crouching behind corners. But with one glance from Jongho and they scatter, clearly intimidated by the way his fingers inch for the handle of his cutlass.

You remember what Yunho had told you about Jongho just earlier this morning.

He’s a great fighter and he has strong protective instincts. You’re probably safer with him than in the sickbay.

“I’m not superstitious.” Jongho tries to defend himself, but sees the look on your face and sighs. “There’s something different about this fortune teller. I never believed magic existed till I met San-hyung… but this fortune teller has a similar aura I get from hyung.”

You immediately understand what he’s talking about. Your master has a pulse about him that you’ve always been able to feel, like the warmth emanating from the sun and a gentle pulse that draws people to him, a comforting softness.

You’ve never seen San use his ‘inner energy’, as he calls it, but the feeling you get from him is no lie.

“But why do you want me to come to a fortune teller, hyung?” Nerves and a deep sadness twist within you. “There’s no point in knowing what’s going to happen. If I can’t remember my past, what’s the point of looking at the future?”

Jongho then stops you in your tracks, placing his hands on your shoulders. His eyes are both gentle and earnest at the same time, searching yours and for a second you can’t look away.

“You may not have a past yet.” The grin on his face is wild, brimming with confidence. “But we sure as hell are going to be your future.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #w; fanfiction #w; ot8 #w; pirate king

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x0401x · 3 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #5

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Iolite of Cloudy Skies

Iolite. Its Japanese name was “blue flower stone”. The gem was blue with a purple tint stronger than that of a sapphire and had a unique viscosity that made it seem as if it was coated with a bit of dew. The level of hardness was seven. It was called iolite when treated as a gemstone, but when treated as a type of mineral, it was also called cordierite. It was an eccentric stone, which also appeared to have a grayish brown color instead of blue depending on the angle that one looked at it. Etc., etc.

“What happened, Seigi? Your eyes are dead.”

“How can I put it...? Surfeit, I guess.”

“Haah?”

I couldn’t memorize the stones’ names. They were too many.

The client who left just now had come because they wanted to see many sorts of blue stones, so Richard’s treasure box was packed with a great variety of blues. There were sapphires, of course, and also tanzanites, lapis lazuli, blue chalcedonies and this iolite.

Half a year before I had started working part-time in Etranger, the image I had of gemstones was limited to things such as diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds, I believed. Now I knew about the existence of a stone named zircon, which shone in the same way as a diamond, and also knew about the spinel, which was red like a ruby, as well as that the color of sapphires was not just blue, having a wide range from purple to yellow, and I had seen transparent jades that were impossible to tell apart from emeralds.

If I had as much knowledge of minerals as Tanimoto-san, I would’ve managed to sort stones inside my head by the differences the in chemical composition of each, but unfortunately, I was unfamiliar with such things, and I currently didn’t have enough enthusiasm or willpower to study them. If I were to explain figuratively, it felt like going out to hunt for clams at a beach, and when you innocently dove into the lake, you’d see the Mariana Trench spreading out below. It was a beautiful world, thus also too wide and too deep. And endless. To a terrifying extent.

When I told him roughly this, Richard laughed, the depths of his throat trembling with giggles. “It is not as if you are aiming to obtain a GIA or FGA qualification or anything, right? Isn’t it all right for you to observe as much as you like?”

“That might be the case, but...”

I found myself thinking that it was a waste.

After all, I’d be on my knees listening as Richard went, in earnest, through the trouble of introducing all kinds of stones to me one by one. I often heard from my senpais that “job hunting is a connection for people”, so I felt sorry that my connection with stones remained scoreless. Regardless, it wasn’t like I was suddenly going to get any smarter.

As I said this, Richard laughed again and beckoned me with a hand gesture. He then took something out of his suit’s pocket. One of those subdivision vinyl bags that I’d often see when he was handling jewels in the back room. It seemed there was an iolite inside. There was a label stuck to the bag packed with absorbent cotton, and something was written on it in horizontal letters. “Viking sunstone,” it read. Vikings? Like the ones that you’d imagine wearing horned helmets, carrying axes and coming from the sea on a ship? As I asked for confirmation, the jeweler nodded with a “precisely”.

“The words written on this label are associated with the former ‘purpose’ of the iolite. In the past, people used iolites as sun stones.”

“‘Used’ them as ‘sun stones’...?”

I didn’t understand anything from A to Z. What did that mean? For starters, why was gem of such a cold-looking color made into a stone of the sun?

Before I even had a breach to ask, the beautiful shopkeeper began talking, a smile ghosting his lips, “You might already know this, but a portion of the people residing in the current Britain are descendants of those who went through the Norman Conquest that began around the ninth century - in other words, of the Vikings. They were famous for having the skills to travel long distances, which was unusual at the time, so Seigi. If you were someone who travels the sea for long periods, how would you know your way?” Richard asked me.

A means to know the cardinal directions in the open sea. So it was a situation where there’d be no piece of land to act as a mark. The only thing I could use in such a case was a magnet. No, wait. Richard had said earlier that it was the ninth century. The compass would be invented only much later. I recalled memorizing that this was the invention that triggered the Age of Discovery back in high school for history class. If so, I recalled the words on the label. “Sunstone”. Yeah, it connected.

“They knew the directions by using the stone of the sun?”

“Good for you. Exactly. Isn’t it clear?”

“K-Kinda!”

“Then, what about under cloudy skies, when the sun is not visible, Mr. Enlightened Part-Timer?”

Speaking of which, the weather changed easily at sea. I had also heard that England was a country where the skies tended to be overcast. Bad weather must be frequent in those coastal waters. If the sky stayed cloudy for three or four days, what should I do? Was there nothing more that could be done at sea?

When I made a puzzled face, Richard smiled as though he had hit the nail on the head, his white hands displaying the iolite under a fluorescent light. “For instance, let’s try to put a mark on any of this iolite’s faceted sides with ink. Another one on a different side. On sunny days, we would record in which direction we can see the sun from one of these two points at given times, and on cloudy days, we would look for parts where the two points overlap. When doing so, since this stone can detect even the faintest light, we would be able to tell the sun’s position,” he said.

“So we can know the position of light with that stone...? Then couldn’t it be any other stone?”

“Light refracts. If it were passing through thick clouds, the human eye would find its shine in a different direction from the sun’s actual position. Iolites acted as polarized lenses, so to speak. By using this stone, the sailors could tell the correct position of the sun. Yet the most famous sunstone is not iolite, but a type of refraction stone called ‘Iceland spar’.”

A polarized lens. Now he was talking about physics? But I did remember the stuff about light refraction. Got it; so that was why it was a “stone of the sun”.

“I don’t get it very well, but I feel the gemstone romance from it. I like that kinda thing,” I said enthusiastically, Richard giving me a calm smile.

“You do get it. Just as you said, you ‘don’t understand stones very well but like them either way’. That is exactly why your eyes were open, so you thought only about how far your destination was and felt your teeth set on edge at it. You mustn’t expect to be able to understand everything overnight. Go steady, without rushing. Do not waver at the impatience stuck back-to-back to your ambitions. That is different from having no one to depend on due to not knowing where you are headed. The hardest times are probably the ones when you have no idea where you should go, but you know the exact position of the sun.”

So, in short, I knew exactly where I wanted to be?

While I remained quiet, Richard shrugged and added, “Of course, this is a metaphor. Even if little by little, the stones should definitely be leaving a trace inside you. Aren’t you supposed to be treasuring this instead of chasing after what goes away?”

Lastly, Richard threw in the trivia that, in the world of power stones, the iolite was said to be a stone that showed people the “right direction”. Taking the backbone of it into consideration, that was indeed a convincing talk. But more than that...

“It’d be great if you were by my side forever.”

“Hah?”

“You’re an expert at noticing what’s troubling other people, aren’t you? I really think you’re a handy guy, like a compass. Aah, ‘the world’s most beautiful compass’, huh?”

“Those are quite irrational words, on top of being illogical. You were born in Japan, raised in Japan and aspire to become a public servant of Japan, so why are you calling an English jeweler a ‘compass’?”

“Well, I don’t plan to ask you about how to prepare for the public servant exams, but I can rely on you when I run into bigger problems, right?”

Richard sighed with a face of thorough dismay. I could understand how he felt. This was like a child in nursery school saying, “It’d be great if my teacher could always be there to help me out.” Long story short, I was acting spoiled. Even though he was my superior at work.

“That’s right; about the custard pie that today’s costumer brought, it looks like it’s quick to expire. Wanna eat it? I’ll make some tea.”

“If you would. Aah, the sugar...”

“Holding back on it this month, right? I know.”

“Help me with half of it. The amount of sugar in it concerns me.”

“Leave it to me.”

This guy was truly good at leading the mood around, and the same applied for the not-too-straightforward way that he phrased himself when recommending gemstones to the customers. Apparently, he thought I was feeling down.

I cut the crunchy pie in half while the tea leaves boiled, then shared it with Richard in the reception room and we both ate it. Covered with powdered sugar, the pie was a dangerous white little thing, as the colorless powder could scatter around from the pie’s surface just by us breathing on it a tiny bit, so the snack time turned into a moment of silence. I felt like laughing at the much too surreal sight several times, but if I happened to cause a big damage to the beautiful shopkeeper’s high-grade suit by doing that, my pay would be reduced. In the end, I ate the pie entirely while looking at the wall.

On the way back home that day, as I looked up at the night sky, I thought about the Vikings of over a thousand years ago. It was said that they were after new lands. What about me? Where was I headed? Would there ever be a day when I would fall into a philosophical concern, like, “I have no idea where I’m trying to go”? Perhaps Richard too? I insolently prayed that the stones may help us out at least in times like those.

Stars were beginning to twinkle in the purplish-blue night sky. There was no doubt that the stars appearing in the sky had not changed ever since the Vikings’ era. Thinking about that as I walked, I mistook one of the streets I should have turned. I had the feeling that I heard Richard’s voice, telling me to mind at least my own steps. I get it, geez.

I decided to wait patiently for the benefits of the stone. It was best for something like that not to happen, but there was no guarantee that both of us wouldn’t lose our ways at the same time one day.

#the case files of jeweler richard #jeweler richard #housekishou richard #housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #novel #my translation

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Audio

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for content which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The interview is actually a video, but the file is too large to be uploaded. So I’ll just leave you with the audio and the sprites used!

More interviews: Gavin l Lucien l Shaw l Victor

3rd Anniversary Masterlist: here

Interviewer: Hello, Mr Kiro. Our interview will begin now. How did the two of you meet?

Kiro: Mm... when we were buying things from the supermarket, we selected the same bag of chips. Just like a scene from a movie.

Interviewer: Do you think this was arranged by destiny?

Kiro: How should I put it...

Kiro: It’s more like she was already part of my destiny from the start. Which is why no matter what destiny had in store, I think I'd definitely have been able to find her in the sea of people.

Interviewer: In your heart, what kind of a person is she?

Kiro: Miss Chips, huh... This question is a little difficult. Because there doesn’t seem to be a term which can describe how she appears in my heart. Mm... if I had to say something...

Kiro: She would be a person akin to hidden treasure.

Interviewer: Do you mean to say that she’s very precious?

Kiro: That’s only one aspect. Before a “hidden treasure” appears before someone, it represents something “special”. I was like a pirate out at sea, wanting to give my all to find this hidden treasure.

Kiro: The me of back then really waited far too long. No matter what, I had to find it.

Kiro: Whether or not the treasure hid gold pieces or stones, it was all good.

Kiro: But when I really found the hidden treasure and opened it...

Kiro: I discovered that what was hidden within were treasures I’d been yearning for day and night. With every day I spend with her, I see things related to her, and different things about the world. Mm... she seems to be related to all the beautiful things in the world. Even her flaws are adorable. I’m thinking this should be the most miraculous thing in the entire universe. Mm... she seems to be the other heart of mine. A very long time ago, I lost it.

Kiro: When I met her again, I found that incomplete fragment of myself. It made me become complete, and made me unable to... continue lying to myself.

Kiro: To me, that’s what her existence means to me.

Interviewer: Is this what stirs your heart the most about her?

Kiro: Of course! However, this is just one of the tens of millions of ways in which she stirs my heart. If I were to mention them, I wouldn’t be able to finish even after 1001 nights. [chuckles] In short, she herself represents all of the stirring in my heart.

Interviewer: Looks like she’s truly very important to you. Are there things you hide from her?

Kiro: Whoa... what an incisive question. [sighs] I think... I do. For instance, wanting everyone to see how great she is.

Kiro: And also wanting to keep her secretly hidden, so she only belongs to me. [chuckles] Sometimes, I don’t think I’m the good person she sees in her heart.

Kiro: I have many flaws and bad habits. Often, I’m petty, get myself into dead ends, and think I know best.

Kiro: For the sake of her smile, I keep thinking there are some things I should just shoulder alone. Mm... but I might have gotten it wrong.

Kiro: No matter what it is, she wants to face it together with me. This is what she's decided on, and also shows her trust in me. She also hopes that I can trust her too.

Kiro: I think what I should do is to make her smile under any circumstances. Which is why the rest of my time will be used trying to reach this goal.

Interviewer: When do you plan to say these words to her?

Kiro: Erm... I might need some time. But I think... she’ll wait for me.

Kiro: And then on an even grander occasion, I’ll say even more special words to her.

Interviewer: Why don’t you say something you’ve always wanted to say to her at the end of the interview?

Kiro: Why do I suddenly feel as though there’s a hidden scheme in his interview?

Interviewer: ...relax, she isn’t hiding nearby and watching secretly.

Kiro: What! She’s hiding nearby!?

Interviewer: ...we’re very professional during interviews.

Kiro: [sigh of relief] That scared me, that scared me. [clears throat] Let me think... hmm...

Kiro: Miss Chips, thank you for always working so hard, being so kind and resolute in standing by my side.

Kiro: I tend to say a lot of things to you without realising it.

Kiro: Sometimes, I don’t even know why I can say so many things in front of you. No matter how much time goes by, I want to be the first person you think of who makes you smile. Many things happened since we met - both happy and sad. I don’t want to deny these things, because these are times we walked through together.

Kiro: [chuckles] To the Miss Chips I like the most, I hope that no matter what happens in the future, may you never regret meeting me.

Kiro: Please let me be like this, liking you forever.

#KIRO YOU SWEET PIE

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divineluce · 3 years

Text

Tower Rising || Solo (Sorta)

Timing: August 14th, 2021

Location: Empire Tattoo in Boston, MA

Tagging: @divineluce and an appearance from @beatrice-blaze

Description: With her phoenix fire wound healed, Luce gets a new tattoo.

Luce kept her eyes closed, head bobbing slightly to the music that pulsed through her headphones. The pain of the needle had grown over the hours that she’d sat in the chair, the nerve endings of her arm firing as the sharpened point jabbed over and over and over into the skin. It was temporary though. Temporary pain for a lifetime of beauty.

But, that’s what she’d thought about her original tattoo. The beautiful peonies and wildflowers that ran from her forearm up to her shoulder, the belly scales of the intertwined snakes, their tails curled around her wrist. She had thought the image would last forever when she’d drawn it, all those years ago. She’d gotten it days after her first art exhibition. Twenty-one, two years older than Bea had been when she’d had her first main stage show. A fact her mother couldn’t help but tell everyone at the exhibition. How if they appreciated art, they should see the shows at Illusions of Grandeur, that it was more of a performance piece really, how Bea could make fire dance almost like an artist painting on blank canvas.

Luce clenched her fist of her free hand, swallowing at the memory. She’d watched, unable to do anything other than sip nervously on her wine, as people’s eyes slid over her painting and instead were drawn to her parents. Her mother, her father. Well intentioned, probably. But ruining everything. That night, she’d locked herself away in her room and drafted up her tattoo— the wide, open maw of a snake, body curled around another snake that was only too content to go along with the whims of the other. But they were only part of the design, decorations in the background. Because the flowers, the peonies and wildflowers she’d spent so long recreating on her canvas, they were the real focus of the tattoo. They were nothing more than snakes in the grass, sliding through the leaves. The intricate blooms were what mattered.

Or they used to be. Only months ago, the skin of her forearm had been ruined by phoenix fire. The images she’d so carefully crafted blurred and smeared under a mottled layer of scarred, darkened skin. The poultices Nell had given her, they’d made the healing process more bearable. Leah had offered her phoenix tears because of course she had. But Luce hadn’t wanted them. The tears would have removed the scars, would have wiped the slate clean. And she couldn’t do that. After everything she’d been through, she didn’t want to lose that. She didn’t want to forget. She couldn’t forget what had happened.

“Nearly done.” Brandon said, dipping the tip of the machine into a small cap of ink. “Just a few little details and we’re good.”

“Hell yeah.” Luce muttered. She’d driven down to Boston to have him do it—partly because he knew his shit when it came to tarot and partly because she didn’t want one of the guys at the shop to do this tattoo. They were too close to home, too close to the real reason behind it. When Brandon saw the healed scars on her arm, he’d asked and she’d given him a lie about an accident in the house. He hadn’t questioned it. And that was fine. It was better this way. Better than the concerned looks that Ulf would be giving her, asking her if she’d really let the wound heal, if she was sure if this was what she wanted to do. If she really wanted this tattoo.

And it was. She wanted it. She needed this.

“All done. Check it out.” Brandon said, wiping away the ink and plasma with a damp paper towel.

Rising from the chair, Luce approached the mirror and stared at the fresh tattoo that wrapped around her forearm. The thick stone columns she’d drawn for the stencil stood out, highlights of white in the places where the scar tissue was too dark or too thick. The tower, with bricks laid overtop a skull of death, it climbed up her forearm. Smoke poured from the windows, her scars giving the plumes body and weight. And at the top, the watchful eye emblazoned in the crook of her elbow was wreathed overhead by what remained of her old tattoo. The blossoms of peonies and what remained of the two snakes loomed above the tower. The open-mouthed snake stared back at her in the reflection. But so too did the eye of the tower.

“What do you think?” Brandon asked as he peeled off his gloves.

Luce stared at the tattoo for a long moment, her fingers hovering over the dark black lines. “It’s perfect. Thanks. For doing this for me.”

“I’m glad to. You know I like tarot and…” He shrugged. “This seemed like it was important for you to get done.”

“Yeah. It was.” She said, glancing down at her arm. To everyone else, the tower stood upright but from her perspective, it was inverted. To the rest of the world, what had happened might seem like catastrophe, but to her? It was a mark of her growth, the transformation she’d undergone, the crisis since averted.

Walking back to the main area of the shop, Luce held out her arm, now covered in plastic wrap. “What do you think?”

Moments of calm silence were something that Bea had learnt to treasure over the last year. Much of the time she spent with Luce were those, simply quiet, enjoying that the other was there. They didn’t have to be doing the same thing, didn't have to understand what the other was doing to find peace in the company. This trip held that silence, a contemplative overtone to the time spent together.

Most of their lives had been spent at odds with each other, unable to find a common ground to understand. Their comfort with each other was new, lines still crisp like the lines of Bea’s tattoo. She hadn’t understood tattoos until after, realized why Luce found joy in creating art in their lives and skin. There was still understanding needed, still questions that they had to find the answers to about each other, but finally they could ask them.

She stood, looking to see if Luce loved it first before she answered, then she took in the tattoo. Her art was found in a different media, but she could still see the meaning here. Luce poured herself into her art, where words weren’t needed to express. Her eyes prickled, though tears did not form, as she saw what her sister was presenting to her. “Might be my new favorite of yours, Luce. It’s really, really beautiful. You and Brandon did some really amazing work together.” Turning on her heel suddenly, she went to her bag, pulling out a small lunch bag. “I figured you would be thirsty or hungry after that though, so I have snacks for you. Then we can go off to dinner, if you want?”

At Bea’s words, Luce couldn’t help the sense of relief that washed over her. “Yeah. I’m really happy with how it turned out.” She’d long since given up trying to to impress her sisters-- to impress anyone, really. But, that wasn’t what this was about. Bea was here because she wanted her sister here. She wanted to share this with her. It was a new tattoo, marking a new chapter in her life.

“Thanks.” She said, taking the brown paper bag from her sister. There were some snacks, a bottle of apple juice, sugary stuff to help counteract the shock. Bea had paid attention when she’d talked about people passing out on her table during the drive down to Boston. Cracking open the bottle with her good arm, Luce took a long drink. “Dinner sounds good. There’s a pretty solid Thai place that Brandon likes around the corner.” She said with a nod before looking down at her tattoo again. The inverted tower. Upheaval. Destruction. But that didn’t mean it had to be for the worst.

“Then we can go back home. I don’t want to leave Nellie alone for too long.” Not again. She’d needed to make the trip down here, to go somewhere people wouldn’t know the meaning behind the ink that decorated her skin. But she couldn’t be apart from her sisters again, not after everything they’d been through. This tattoo was more than just a tarot card, more than just a sign of what she’d been to.

It was a monument to all that they’d been through, the storms they’d weathered and the turmoil they’d overcome. They would persist, the tower would stand. And so would the Vurals.

#p: tr #solo #p: bea vural #wickedswriting #//to explain where luce has been while ive been outta commission

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rosy-cheekx · 3 years

Text

Make A Wish

Book passage: Elfriede Jelinek, The Piano Teacher

Me? Posting an unprompted fic? 2021 is starting off wild!

AO3 Link here

Summary: Martin knows just how to celebrate Jon’s 35th birthday. It’s soft and beautiful and speaks of a bright future.

Martin doesn’t know how to shop for Jon. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t really want trinkets or the little gifts Martin would think to buy for a significant other. (If he does want them, at least, he doesn’t say it.) Things he needs, like clothes, he buys himself, doesn’t wait for an occasion. Overall, Martin would not describe Jon as materialistic.

Books are the exception. Books are always the exception for Jon. While Jon is not materialistic, he is usually sentimental. He keeps things for as long as he can, letting them wear and wear til they’re no longer usable, like his shoes. Especially pictures. Jon never throws away pictures. (Martin knows why and snaps as many Polaroids as he can of his partner, himself, their friends, even their cat, hanging them around the house in tiny frames as reminders.) But his books are in and out of the shelves like they run a bookshop of their own. Martin has heard the stories of his partner’s reading habits as a youth, knows that Jon’s reading habits are challenging, to say the least. Before they’d moved in together, though, he hadn’t realized that every time he was at Jon’s the bookshelves were almost entirely unique to the last visit. New titles, rarely the same authors, with no seeming organization to the assemblance. Martin knows this now, knows that once a fortnight Jon packs up all the books he’s read and takes them to their local charity shop. It’s his little ritual, and the bug-eyed look of confusion Martin had received when he had asked him about it the first time was priceless.

“I just--don’t need them anymore?” He says, like it’s a question. “I’m not going to read them again.”

“Really?” Martin raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I took you to be a bit of a hoarder when it comes to books, if the statements in your office were any indication. And it’s our flat, so they’re our books. What if I want to read them?”

“Please.” Jon scoffs. “That’s entirely different. I don’t enjoy- well. They’re work, these are not.”

Still, after this, Jon includes Martin in his ritual, giving him synopses from books he thinks Martin might enjoy and adding the Blackwood-Approved books to the other bookshelf. Martin is quite proud of his bookshelf, identical in structure to Jon’s but entirely more organized: books ordered by genre, then by author, with figurines, photos, and plants acting as weights and decor. Jon’s deviates between sparse and overflowing, books stacked however they will fit, with no rhyme or reason to their order.

Martin doesn’t know how to shop for Jon, but he’s learned quickly that Jon isn’t a Things person. Jon is an Experiences person. The moments he treasures are the ones where he and Martin are happy to be in each other’s presence and experiencing new things together. Ice skating, picnics, hiking, cinemas, all the quintessential cheesy dates, the ones he would’ve guessed, way back when, before he knew the real Jon, this Jon, he would have snubbed his nose at.

Jon’s birthday is coming up. He’s turning 35 and is all too self-conscious about the fact. Martin ribs him a little; he’s older by seven months, after all, “you’re making me feel old, Jon!” Their ritual has become to call off work and spend a day together on Jon’s birthday. No gifts, no fanfare, just a day doing an activity Martin has planned. It’s perfect usually, Jon’s delighted smile and bright eyes when he thanks Martin with a kiss is all the satisfaction he needs. But this is 35, it needs to be special. It needs to be perfect.

---

Martin blinks awake to the steady, calming drum of rain on their bedroom window. He pats out blindly for his glasses, haphazardly set on his bedside table, and pushes them on his face, before rolling back onto his side and tucking an arm around Jon’s waist and nuzzling into his neck. “Happy birthday, love,” he murmurs, carding his other hand through Jon’s tangled curls. He smiles softly as he watches his partner; Jon always grumbles that he looks so much older than he is, but when he’s sleeping, Martin swears he looks timeless, a specimen of perfect beauty against the crisp black sheets. Jon shifts in his arms, turning to face him, and squints blearily at Martin. Jon, for all his sleepless nights back at the archives, is not a morning person.

“Hm-mar’in?” he mumbles, irises stained forever green. He clears his throat and scrubs at his eyes. God, he looks just like a cat. “G’mornin’,” he says, a little more comprehensible, voice rough-hewn from sleep.

“Morning, love.” Martin kisses his forehead, between his eyebrows. “Happy birthday,” His nose, cold from a chilly autumn night. “Ready for a good day?” His lips now, soft and warm. Jon sighs underneath him, presses himself into the kiss, slots himself into the Jon-shaped space in Martin’s arms.

When Martin shifts away to sit up, Jon audibly whines, grabbing at Martin’s hand to pull him back. “You’re so warm, don’t go,” he pleads. Martin chuckles and squeezes his hand.

“It’s half nine. You want breakfast, don’t you? We have an agenda to follow, don’t forget.” But Jon shakes his head and tugs again.

“Birthday Ruling,” he cites solemnly, stretching as he says it. (Again, like a cat, the way he arches his back. Is that on purpose? Martin is pretty sure he’s seen Reggie—Her Regency—do the exact same thing.) “By royal decree, you have to stay here until I’m awake enough to help you with breakfast.”

“Well,” Martin chuckles, shaking his head to himself and tucking himself around Jon’s thin form. “I can’t refuse a royal decree, now, can I?”

Breakfast becomes brunch, and once the pair are awake tea, cut fruit, and omelets are prepared and eaten on the couch. Jon being left-handed and Martin right, they sit on their perspective sides so they can hold hands and not inhibit the other from eating.

“So,” Jon prompts, eyeing Martin from his peripheral as he watches him wash dishes. “What are your secret plans? Am I allowed to know yet?”

“Hmm.” Martin considers his question, running a plate through his hands as he dried it, solemn contemplation on his face. “No.”

“Mar-tiiin,” Martin is almost worn down by that plea, a sound he doesn’t think anyone else who has ever met Jonathan Sims could fathom coming from him. A bloom of warmth in his chest; a reminder he will never feel lonely again.

“But I think you’ll figure it out,” he compromises, grinning to himself. His plan had come to him in a sudden realization at work and Martin did think it was some of his best work yet. “Here’s your hint: you may want to bring a canvas.”

Jon’s face is a measured calm. “We’re going shopping?” Martin just shrugs, winking.

They take a cab and the rain pounds down on the roof, the repetitive noise a balm against the cold and wet. Martin really got lucky today; the sound of rain is one of Jon’s favorites. He sighs inwardly as Jon rests his curls, slightly damp from their wait for the cab, on his shoulder and closes his eyes, basking in the warmth of his boyfriend and the pleasant drumming.

Jon’s eyes opened when he felt the cab pull to a stop, and he took their surroundings in with the quick analytical eye of an ex-Archivist. Martin felt his cheeks growing warm with excitement as they stepped out of the cab and paid. The building before them, like most Scottish buildings, was made of uneven stone. There was a little garden, mostly rocks with some shrubbery dotted between, and the pathway, also stone, though a flatter smoother variety, led to the door, which read The Watermill in blue and white lettering. “Martin?” Jon threaded his fingers through Martin’s, eyes wide.

“It’s a bookshop, Jon. It’s got reading nooks, and a café, and I swear I’ll buy you any books you want. We can stay as long as we like. We can read as much as we want.”

Three short squeezes to Martin’s hand. Oh. He was starting to ramble. He returns the answering four. “Martin, love, it sounds perfect. But it’s raining.” Right. A drop of rain rolls down Martin’s nose, and he shivers. ��Let’s get inside.”

Martin is glad he brought a tote, a canvas bag with the name of Jon’s university emblazoned on the sides. He follows Jon through every aisle as Jon analyzes every book like their dogs in show. He scans the titles, covers and authors with precision, sometimes returning them with delicate hands, sometimes reading descriptions or thumbing through the pages, before deciding their worth and either reshelving it or handing it to Martin. Martin is distinctly reminded of being an Archival Assistant, helping Jon prioritize case files, except the expression on Jon’s face isn’t furrowed and grim, it’s near-rapturous awe as he selects and examines the books. There is no evident consistency to the books Jon picks, ranging from YA fiction to historical documentation to travel books of places he knew they’d probably never visit, though he always takes Martin’s suggested reads, nodding dutifully and running his hand down the spine before placing it in the ever-weighing bag on Martin’s arm.

They spend nearly an hour and a half roaming shelves before Jon is satisfied with this first load. Martin is grateful. His shoulder is starting to hurt from the nearly full canvas he’s hoisted on his shoulder. Martin leads his partner to a small corner, something that can only be described as a nook. There’s a small, well-worn sofa, a table with coasters, and a coffee table in front of the sofa. The whole space is cast in warm orange-yellow light, courtesy of the standing lamps, and Martin can imagine this is a great place to curl up and fall asleep.

Curl up they do, Martin sitting with a few books of his own beside him and Jon leaning against Jon’s side, sprawling over the majority of the couch. Martin tucks an arm over Jon’s chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of the space where collarbone meets rib, and they read. They read in silence for most of the morning, Jon flipping through his books at a truly astounding pace (Jon thinks its left over from his Archival Spooky Powers, Martin thinks he’s just a nerd), pausing occasionally to read Martin a line he finds interesting. It’s a yellow paperback now, something about psychopathy, and he begins to read out an interview the author had with a man who claims he should not have been diagnosed as a psychopath.

“D’you think Jonah was a psychopath?” Jon asks, brow furrowed as he reads the qualifying characteristics. “He had the ‘grandiose sense of self-worth’ and ‘cunning/manipulation’ down pat.”

Martin hums, glancing over Jon’s shoulder to read the rest of the Psychopath Test. “Lack of remorse,” he points. “Lack of empathy for sure. Someone with empathy doesn’t implant visions of their dead father into the head of their employee. Speaking of, we should have Melanie and Georgie over soon.” Jon nods against his chest. “I’d call him charming, too, actually,” nudging Jon gently. “Especially with new employees. Remember how he—”

“Called me into his office nonstop and ‘checked in?’ Yeah, I remember.” Jon sighed and smoothed the page down. “Can you call it ‘a parasitic lifestyle’ when your employees are bound under your servitude for eternity or until they die?” Jon scoffs. “I don’t think the DSM is ready for Smirke’s Fourteen.”

“Maybe not. Maybe the sixth edition will be.” Martin presses a kiss to the top of Jon’s head and turns back to his own book.

“Hungry?” Martin asks, nudging Jon as his stomach gurgles for the third time in as many minutes. Jon jumps a little, likely having forgotten Martin was there.

“Erm-I mean, a little.” Even after being together for so long, Jon still hesitates to let Martin buy him food. (“Martin, I have money. You don’t- you don’t have to-” but whatever offending muffin or cone of chips would be pressed into his hand and he would thank Martin, sheepish, and take a bite.)

“Chai latte? Something sweet?” Martin asks, nudging Jon out of his side and feeling the cold spot left in his wake. “Its your birthday, come on.” Jon sighs and relents, and Martin swear he can hear him roll his eyes as he walks away.

Martin orders two chais and a few cupcakes (chocolate for Jon, carrot cake for him) from the café in the front of the bookshop and joins an ever-growing queue of patrons waiting to get their own warm treats. The rain must have driven people in in droves. Never mind it, though, their corner feels empty enough. He thinks he sees a spider on the back of a woman’s shirt in front of him, and flinches before realizing, oh, it’s just a bit of string. He takes a slight step back anyways. He didn’t used to do that.

“Order for Martin?” An American voice, uni student probably. He thanks her and makes a point to drop a few quid in the tip jar, seeing it frustratingly empty for such a busy café.

Martin takes a small porcelain plate in each hand, a mug and pastry balanced on each, and makes his way carefully back to the sofa where he had left Jon. Only, he couldn’t see his curly hair, tied up in his half-bun, over the back of the sofa. Did he go to the loo?

It’s when Martin steps over to the side of the couch to set the plates down that he bursts into laughter. Jon is sprawled in a way that seems completely unconducive to reading: his knees are hooked over the sofa, so his socked feet (shoes neatly deposited next to his hips) are on the cushion itself. His torso is stretched on the warm, well-swept wood floor and his head (and his book) are tucked under the coffee table; arms locked over his head so he can read on his back. It looks ridiculous, he cannot fathom what possessed Jon to sit like this and not on his back on the couch.

Jon hears his laughter and arcs his neck, trying to see Martin’s face. “It was…comfortable?” he tries helplessly, giggling awkwardly. “Oh, piss off,” he sighed, inelegantly worming his way out from under the seat.

“Come on, old man.” Martin grins, handing him the cupcake he’d bought for him, with a single purple candle pressed into it. “Make a wish!”

“It’s not even lit,” Jon protested, cheeks flushing.

“Want me to sing instead? I can.” Martin took a deep breath. “Happy Bir-”

“N-no! Martin, no!” Jon pressed a hand over his mouth, though he was giggling madly at Martin’s wild expression. “I’ll blow it out. Just hush.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then let out a breath in a sigh. His eyes were soft, smile to match. “I…I don’t have anything to wish for.”

Martin’s turn to blush. “Just-just shut up and eat your cake,” he mumbled, hiding his smile in a sip of his tea.

Maybe its how at-peace he feels, maybe it’s his ADHD (its definitely the ADHD), but Martin has no idea how long he’s been reading. He’s brought out of his reverie, his copy of In Cold Blood almost finished (he’s read it before, but god he loves this book so much), by a low noise he can’t pick out at first. It’s quiet, soothing, its right next to him.

Oh. Oh. It’s Jon. This one, a real compulsion left over from his time as an Archivist, Jon is reading aloud to himself, his voice the sonorous, resonant tone of a man performing for himself. Martin puts his book down carefully, trying not to alert Jon to his awareness, and listens, letting the words wash over him. Jon’s voice has always been able to capture Martin’s attention, even before the Eldritch Spooky Magic that eventually attached itself to it.

“Klemmer stands there, gazing at her. “Erika doesn’t want a silence to develop, so she utters a platitude. Art is platitudinous for Erika because she lives off art. How much easier it is for the artist, says the woman, to hurl feelings or passions out of himself. When an artist resorts to dramatic devices, which you so greatly esteem, Klemmer, he is simply utilizing bogus methods while neglecting authentic ones. She talks to prevent the eruption of silence. I, as a teacher, favor undramatic art – Schumann, for instance. Drama is always easier! Feelings and passions are always merely a substitute, a surrogate for spirituality. The teacher yearns for an earthquake, for a roaring, raging tempest to pounce upon her. That wild Klemmer is so angry that he almost drills his head into the wall. The clarinet class next door, which he, the owner of a second instrument, has been frequenting twice a week, would certainly be astonished if Klemmer’s angry head suddenly emerged from the wall, next to Beethoven’s death mask. Oh, that Erika, that Erika. She doesn’t sense that he is actually talking about her, and naturally about himself as well! He is connecting Erika and himself in a sensual context, ejecting the spirit, that enemy of the senses, that primal foe of the flesh. She thinks he is referring to Schubert, but he really means himself, just as he always means himself whenever he speaks. “He suddenly ventures to adopt a familiar tone with Erika; using a formal tone, she advises him to remain objective! Her mouth puckers, willy-nilly, into a wrinkly rosette; she cannot control it. She controls what the mouth says, but she cannot control the way it presents itself to the outside world. She gets goosebumps all over.”

Martin closes his eyes against the words, a shiver running down his spine, starting at the top of his skull. It’s a feeling he gets so rarely now, the feeling of being so absolutely content in the presence of another person that any fog he may have is physically expunged from him. Not that there is any, but it’s a safeguard; a reminder to himself that he is not Lonely anymore and will never be lonely again. It can’t get him, not here, not with Jon sprawled, almost in his lap, reading and sipping tea and letting the only thing they worry about be whether they fed the cat this morning (Jon did, of course, Reggie is not one to let them forget her morning meal).

“Martin?” Jon’s voice cuts through his quiet contemplation. “You alright?” He’s tilting his head back, almost upside down to look at Martin’s face. “I felt you shudder.” Of course, even deep in his trance of this story he had felt Martin shift.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he smiles reassuringly, carding the hair off Jon’s forehead. “I’m not feeling lonely, not even a little bit.” He used to do it a lot in the safehouse, and fog would roll off him in droves. Jon would hold him through it all. “I think it just happens now like part of an immune system, just checking in when I’m feeling emotional.”

“Emotional?” Jon looks a little relieved, but not entirely. He sits up, glancing down at his page number (Martin could never figure out how Jon did that, remembered his page number instead of using a bookmark) and cups Martin’s face gently, searching it. “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing, Jon, I promise. That was why I was emotional,” he admits, feeling a little sheepish. “It’s just good to feel happy. It feels good to be with you, to be at peace, to not worry about what is going to happen tomorrow and whether we’re going to die.”

Martin blushes, feeling heat spread through his face. It feels good to say it out loud. “Happy birthday, Jon. I love you.”

They leave with bags full of books, smiles on their faces and the moon casting a faint light on their backs. Martin falls asleep in the cab on the way home, his head lilting onto Jon’s shoulder. When Jon wakes him up, leading his sleepy partner up the stairs,

Jon thinks 35 maybe won’t be so bad, after all.

#tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #fluff #birthday #bookshop #cafe #good vibes all around #fanfic to a tea

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thecardsimagine · 4 years

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Hi, I absolutely love your work, it’s my favorite Arcana blog! ❤️Can I have a head cannon or a short scenario (which ever one would work better for you in writing this) where Asra comes home from one of his trips and finds that his Mc has made his favorite meal, drink & even laid out his favorite flowers for him? Not only that but he asks them how they knew & if they asked anyone like Muriel. However, the MC did not ask anyone and just remembered it their self! Thank you! 😊

Thank you for requesting, I am glad you are enjoying my writing ^-^ That was an adorable idea!

* Lapsang souchong is a kind of tea, and Asra’s favorite

≿————-————- ❈ ————-————-≾

Dragging his feet through the streets of Vesuvia, Asra was more than happy to come home. Normally, he loved traveling, but undeniably, some expeditions were tougher than others, and he looked forward to putting his feet up and get a good night's rest at home.

And more importantly, he looked forward to coming home to you.

Truth be told, he hadn’t made as much progress in finding your memories as he wished he had, but still, every moment with you was a gift to experience always. He could have lost it all, but he didn’t, and that was what he was most thankful for in life. For you, it didn’t matter how many mountains he had to climb and how many swamps he waded through. He would take all those hardships and more if it was for your sake.

Asra had done better this time, he had sent you a letter when he was going through a worldly city last, telling you he’d be home by today. Normally, it was more of a lottery win to actually meet him when he came home, but he had been gone for a long time, and he missed you. He wanted to see you, even if just for a few hours before you two parted ways again.

The jingle of the bell as he opened the shop’s door, carefully sealed with magic that he taught you, was a warm welcome in his ears. He didn’t bother putting everything away orderly, hat and scarf thrown over the coat rack, bag sinking to the floor next to it. He knew you’d scold him for bringing his dirty shoes in, so he pushed them off right in front of the door, knowing no one would be entering or exiting it before morning anyway.

From above, the strong smell of his favorite tea drifted down, and Asra took a deep breath, inhaling it. It was his go-to, his favorite thing to have in the world, and it laid itself around him like a comforting coat of scents. “I’m home!” he announced, a smile spreading over his lips just from saying those two words.

The stairs creaked under his weight, a familiar sound to him too, and he was even happier when your head popped out from above, expression turning into a bright grin. “Welcome home!” you smiled, waiting for him to get upstairs, before giving him a hearty hug, letting yourself be swayed left and right in his arms as Asra reciprocated the gesture.

“I made your favorite dinner!” you announced as he finally let you go, and Asra smiled, lurking over your shoulder while you trotted back to the stove. Opening up the cover on the pot, the well-known aroma of spices and blue-tongued skink meat were set free, making Asra’s mouth water with an elongated, satisfied hum leaving him.

“Did Muriel tell you?” he asked, grabbing some plates from the shelves and put them out on the table. His eyes fell on the small vase, filled with water and a branch of Belladonna sticking from it. An unusual flower arrangement to keep on the table, but his eyes widened at the sight of it, hands stopping as he was in the middle of putting down the plates.

“Mhm, no, he didn’t. Muriel’s been very busy putting up his charms lately. I haven’t seen him this week at all.”

Already smirking a little at Asra’s hesitation, you put down cutlery and two cups, gently pressing down on his wrist that hovered in the air. “Guess what I remembered two days ago when I sorted through the books we own?”

“What?” he asked, puzzled. Finally, he set down what was in his hands, turning towards you more. Circling your finger a few times in the air, you eventually poked his nose, announcing, “You!”

“Me?”

“Yeah!” Laughing some more, you returned to the stove, asking the tiny salamander to turn down the heat, stirring your cooking. “I cleaned up the books and skimmed through them, and then... I remembered you. I remembered how we’d often have skink and how you’d always make me some Lapsang souchong* when I was reading. And you gushed about Belladonna whenever we’d pass one. It just... all came back, all of a sudden.”

Smiling back at him, you were taken aback when you suddenly found yourself in his arms, barely able to hold on to your wooden spoon and quickly putting it down before turning towards Asra. “What else?” he asked, eyes wide, an unknown longing in them. “What else do you remember?”

“We would go out to the forest a lot, and meet with Muriel! And you took me to a cave for training! My... aunt, I think, she didn’t like it when you taught me fire spells, that’s why you showed them to me behind the shop-- Asra?” Calling out his name, worry fell over your chipper expression, hands coming up to cup his face. You thought he’d be happy when you told him about it, but you didn’t expect the wet feeling on your fingertips from the tears that clouded his eyes, falling down quickly.

“W-What’s wrong? Are you not happy? Did I do something wrong?”

Shaking his head immediately, Asra reached for your hands, cupping yours with his and kissing both your palms. “No... No, I am very happy! I- I didn’t think you’d ever remember any of this...”

“Oh...” Giving him your most encouraging smile, you brushed your thumb over his cheeks reassuringly, sniffles accompanying the tears that fell, even if the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile. “I’m so happy, [Name],” he mumbled, crying some more.

It felt like a colossal stone boulder fell off his shoulders. Even if it was just him, or maybe because it was him who you remembered, Asra could barely contain the happiness that boiled through him. Even though it wasn’t his doing, you still remembered something on your own without any repercussions to it. A part of you, that he had to fear was lost entirely, came back, and at least a little bit, it felt like he had accomplished something. There was so much more of your life that had yet to return, but that handful of memories gave him more hope than anything that had happened so far, that maybe, he’d really find your past again after all.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly. Feelings of luck and thankfulness, relief, and being proud of you went through him, and if you hadn’t wiggled in his hold eventually, he would have held you like this forever preferable. But nodding towards the pot behind you, you reminded him of the dinner, and that was nothing Asra would have wanted to miss.

He held your hand throughout dinner, tightly, as if you were an illusion that could dare to disappear right before his eyes. The plates were emptied, and the food tasted exactly how you had prepared it in the past. Almost, he had started crying again, but he kept a hold on himself, instead pressing you for more memories when the two of you were done, listening intently to the treasures of moments you recovered.

“Wow, that’s a lot,” he remarked as you wrapped up your tales. “Yeah...” you mumbled, nodding lightly. Your expression fell, as you took a deep breath, intertwining your fingers with his. “But that’s not all of them, right?” Looking up at him, you had a mix of guilt and desperation shimmering in your eyes, and Asra shook his head, squeezing your hand back.

“No, but I’ll find them, I promise.”

“Asra...” you whispered, sighing. “You don’t have to do this. Leaving all the time, looking for something that might... not be there anymore. You can just stay here - with me! And Muriel! And we can make new memories instead!”

His smile turned somewhat bittersweet as he heard your words, and he nodded. Truth be told, both of you knew he would still leave after all, but you had a point. Maybe he didn’t need to search wide and far, perhaps he had to help you find them where you made them. Maybe it would help to go to places with you again or show you things that had been dear to you. Perhaps it was time to work on these things together with you again.

“I’ll stay for now,” he agreed, and your smile grew wider, from ear to ear. Holding out your right pinky, you made him promise, knowing Asra could be very spontaneous with his decisions from time to time. But he linked his with yours, and you laughed when he gave the promise a kiss on top of your fingers, his chuckles chiming in with you.

“I promise. But I’ll find them, [Name]. That, I swear.”

#Asra #Asra Alnazar #The Arcana #The Arcana game #The Arcana Imagines #The Arcana Headcanons #The Arcana Scenarios #The Arcana fanfictions #Asra The Arcana #The Arcana Asra #Asra the Magician #Anonymous

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