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sailtoafarawayland · 3 years

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Together (Entwined Series)

Summary: Emma bit her lip, almost regretting the fleeting thought that had caused the words to fall from her lips, the need that was clawing its way up from her chest and pressing against the back of her throat like something that refused to be kept secret. Tears burned behind her eyes and she blinked them away, overwhelmed by the suddenness of what she was feeling – was it even a normal thing to want, to ask for?

Series Information: A series of connected one-shots following the polyamorous relationship of Emma, Killian, and Hook. Each piece can be read standalone and is non-linear, but together will reveal some backstory and how these three came to be. Tags/warnings that are specific to each piece will be posted at their heading, but it is safe to assume all of them will contain some version of M/F/M and M/M (unless otherwise noted in the tags). If this is not your thing, carry on. If you would like to be removed from my tag list, please let me know. Keep in mind, I maintain one list for all of my work.

Rated: Explicit

Relationships/Alternate Tags: M/F/M, M/M, Emma/Killian/Hook, Double Penetration - Double Vaginal, Anal Play, Canon Divergent

Many thanks to @hollyethecurious for the lovely cover art!

AO3 - FF

Together

“It's bad form to make a man wait,” Hook groaned, barely restraining himself from bucking his hips forward, Killian's warm breath ghosting over his sensitive flesh that waited just out of reach. Emma's fingers trailed through his hair and down his back as she circled him, her naughty whisper in his ear reminding him to be patient, that they had the entire night to play.

She kissed him teasingly, a mere brush of her lips against his own before pulling back, her hips swaying as she smiled mischievously and turned to join Killian on the floor, slipping behind him. Her breasts melded against his back and the slick dampness that already coated her soft curls was pressed against his skin. She laid hungry kisses into his neck, desire and need swirling inside of her as she reached around him to grasp and stoke the hardness that was thick and weeping between his thighs as he knelt, her eyes locked on Hook's cock where it bobbed in front of her, waiting to be serviced.

Killian moaned at the heat and weight of her hand as it massaged him, his hips thrusting forward into her grip, the movement drawing a groan from Hook as his cock brushed against Killian's stubble.

“Not yet,” Emma admonished, whispering into Killian's ear, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she watched him lick his lips, eager to open his mouth and find what he knew was waiting for him – even if the black scarf tied neatly around his eyes kept him from enjoying the view. “I think after this morning, you boys deserve a little payback...”

Her hand tightened around Killian's cock as she dragged it slowly up and down, reveling in the way his skin slipped over the thick head and drew a shudder from his body, need rippling along his taut muscles.

“I want to watch you on your knees,” Emma murmured, her tongue tracing the flushed shell of his ear, “waiting for that cock and knowing you won't get more than a taste, not until I'm ready – but trust me, babe, it's so hard and ready for you...”

Hook's groan of desperation blended seamlessly with Killian's. Unhindered by any blindfolds, he could see the sinful picture that was his two lovers knelt at his feet, Emma's lithe fingers wrapped around Killian and slowly dragging him toward a release she wouldn't give him.

“And as for you,” Emma drawled, her eyes locking with Hook as she dragged a finger through the precum leaking from Killian's cock and brought it up to his waiting mouth, “I want you to know how hot and wet and needy his mouth is for you, how amazing it feels to have him...” Emma gasped as Killian's lips latched onto her finger and drew it in deep, his tongue swirling and cleaning all traces of his own essence from her “...wrapped around me like this...”

Hook's throat bobbed as he swallowed heavily, Emma popping her finger from his twin's mouth with a wicked smirk. His cock was straining and already near to bursting with need, the darkened tip of it wet with his own arousal and hovering only inches away from where he wanted so desperately to bury it, but their Swan was in far from a giving mood after they spent the early hours of the morning teasing her awake – bringing her to the edge over and over before finally letting her fall, and he knew this was her own form of revenge – their joint pleasure so close, and yet unattainable until she'd given permission.

The air between them was heavy with their breathing, her own included, and as Emma rose and circled her two pirates, she was seized with how beautiful they looked like this, Killian's powerful thighs bent as he knelt willingly, his hand and wrist waiting obediently against them despite how desperate he was for release, and standing above him, Hook – slightly older, but no less startlingly handsome, his own dark locks streaked with silver, his face just beginning to bear the traces of age, fine lines that branched from his eyes and furrowed his brow, his stubble hiding the beginning of more silver that he bemoaned each day when he looked in the mirror. His chest was as lean and well-muscled as Killian's, bearing scars that mirrored his twin, and yet others that were a departure from the path they'd once journeyed together.

Her indulgent perusal of her two lovers had pulled her somewhat from her brazen mood, and she swallowed down the heavy, melancholic relief that rose in her throat when it washed over her once again that they'd been able to save him before he'd become the man she met in the Wish Realm, a man who had lived his life alone and broken, unloved and with the hope stripped from his very bones.

Tears rose behind her eyelids and she stepped forward, brushing her fingertips across the rough canvas of Hook's cheek and turning his face toward her, her lips melding needfully against him, the fire in her belly flaring and burning away any lingering sadness as her hands roamed his skin, his body twisting to face her as a growl of longing rumbled in his chest. His hardness was pressed thick and heavy against her stomach, his fingers combing through her hair, Killian's panted breaths rising as he listened to their kiss turn sloppy, soft moans interrupting the glide of their lips.

Suddenly Emma didn't want to play anymore, to taunt them until they begged for release as she had that morning. She wanted both of her lovers as close as possible, no slip of air between them as they moved in that perfect rhythm that came from sharing true love.

“Killian,” she begged, her hand reaching for him, finding his disheveled mop of hair as he leaned into her palm, “please...I need you both...I need you...”

She'd barely gotten the words out before he was on his feet and tearing the scarf from his eyes, understanding flickering across his features as he took in her desperation and the deep sadness that sometimes loomed behind her emerald green gaze – then he was entwined with them once more, his chest pressing against her back as his strong arms encircled her, caressing the flat of her belly as his teeth grazed her neck.

Time seemed to slow as Hook tilted into her, their lips and tongues sweeping across one another as he threaded his fingers thought her hair, carefully draping her long curls over the shoulder Killian wasn't currently lavishing with attention. Her hands traveled as far as she could reach, nails scratching a trail through his chest hair and fingers kneading the muscles of his arms. Killian rutted against her back, his shaft just as hard and needy as his twin's, the two of them perfect and exactly what she craved.

Pressed between the heat of their bodies, she'd never felt more complete, more loved. Killian's palm, rough and calloused, trailed down her thigh, his fingers clutching her flesh and urging her to lift herself, to wrap her leg around Hook. He lifted her as easily as if she weighed nothing, coaxing her long legs to her to circle his hips as Killian did the same from behind, his wrist and fingers drawing along her backside.

Emma's head rolled back as Hook trailed his lips along the sweep of her neck, her pulse fluttering beneath the soft wetness of his tongue and the scratch of his stubble.

“I love you both,” Emma whispered, anticipation rippling beneath her skin like electricity. “I love you both so much.”

“Aye, lass,” Killian murmured from behind her, his chest firm and hard against her back as he held her close, breathing in the scent of them together as he nosed her neck, nibbling along her ear, “and we love you – you've both our hearts, always.”

Hook leaned over Emma's shoulder, closing the gap between himself and Killian. Their lips met over her sweat dappled skin, the soft groans swallowed between them making her core throb with the need to feel them moving inside of her together, filling her so completely in that way only they could do.

“Bed...” she moaned, wriggling in Hook's arms, her slippery folds rubbing deliciously against where his cock was trapped. “Bed, now...”

“Aye,” Killian hissed, nipping Hook's lip before pulling back, his blue eyes nearly eclipsed with black, his lips swollen and pink. “Let's give the little minx what she's craving.”

The bed sheets were cool and sensuous against their skin as Hook slid them together onto it. Emma perched over his body as he stretched out beneath her, rocking wantonly and sliding herself along his velvety shaft, small whimpers of need rolling from her mouth in time with her hips. The mattress dipped and Emma felt the comforting weight of Killian behind her once more, his hand and wrist slipping beneath bottom and lifting, calloused fingers wrapping around Hook's cock and carefully guiding it into her drenched sex, her upper body trembling and toes curling as she sunk onto his thick length.

Pushing down, she let more of Hook's girth slide into her, her walls tight and needy, grasping and pulling him deeper as she stretched around him.

“That's it, love...” Killian groaned, his fingers brushing against her opening as he trailed them lower, finding Hook's balls hot and heavy between his thighs, gripping them and rolling them in his palm. “Gods, I'll never tire of watching you make love to us...”

Laying beneath her, Hook watched with rapt attention, his tongue wetting his lips as he took in the beauty that was Emma arching above him, her nipples rosy and pebbled against the perfect, pale swell of her breasts, her arms stretched behind her as she clutched at Killian, his twin's lips and tongue teasing her ear, his wrist encircling her stomach as she rode him. She was a vision, his Emma, a golden goddess who'd risked everything for him, they both had. He pushed away the fleeting guilt that rose in his chest – Killian had made it, she'd made it, and they were all here, together. He grasped her thighs, rolling his hips gently beneath her and savoring the view of her folds parting around him, his cock painted with her arousal.

“You're so wet, darling,” he moaned, watching his shaft disappear into her once more. “It's heaven inside of you...”

Emma whimpered at his words, the sound rising into something wild as Killian's hand slipped between them once more, his fingers dragging her wetness back to her ass and circling her tight entrance, teasing the puckered muscle until she groaned and relaxed, the tip of his finger slipped in with practiced ease and was followed quickly by the rest of its length.

“And so tight, my naughty lass,” he purred, a second finger joining the first and slowly stretching her open, her movements on Hook slowing to a gentle rock of her hips as she adjusted to the sensation of Killian making her ready for him. Hook kept thrusting slowly up into her, his face flushed and contorted with pleasure as he drank in the look of ecstasy on Emma's face.

“Oh god, Killian,” she gasped, her lips trembling as his fingers turned within her. “I need you...”

“I know, love,” he soothed, gently probing deeper as she relaxed further into him, urging her ass back against his hand, his fingers scissoring inside of her and pressing against the thin wall separating him from where Hook was buried deep inside her tight sheath, “and I'll take care of you...”

“But I want...” Her words drifted into nothingness as a change in angle had the head of Hook's cock rolling across that place inside of her that made sparks fly beneath her skin, “oh god, oh god, oh please, I want...”

“Tell us what you want, darling,” Hook pleaded, slowing his strokes as he waited for her eyes to open and find him once more. “Tell us, Emma...”

“Anything your heart desires, love,” Killian murmured into her skin, his fingers slipping from within her to grasp her hip as he waited, feeling the uncertainty that had tightened her muscles and stolen the fluid bliss from her body.

Emma bit her lip, almost regretting the fleeting thought that had caused the words to fall from her lips, the need that was clawing its way up from her chest and pressing against the back of her throat like something that refused to be kept secret. Tears burned behind her eyes and she blinked them away, overwhelmed by the suddenness of what she was feeling – was it even a normal thing to want, to ask for?

“Emma,” Hook pleaded, sitting up and framing her face with his hand and stump, his fingers brushing aside tendrils of her hair. “There isn't a thing in this world you can't ask for, not from us – we love you, we love each other.”

Emma let the fear fly from her on a trembling breath, nearly laughing at herself for doubting even for an instant that this was something she could share with her true loves.

“You're right, I just...we've never...”

“Whatever it is, it certainly wouldn't be our first time trying something new, love,” Killian pointed out with a cheeky smirk, “and where would we be today if we hadn't?”

Still not brave enough to look either of them in the eye, but feeling more secure in voicing the new desire twisting within her, Emma let her hand drift lower, her fingers gently circling where she was still joined with Hook.

“I want to have you both here.”

There was a moment where the only sound between them was the subdued rhythm of their breathing. Emma's gaze still lingered on the soft rise and fall of Hook's chest, her other hand knotted with uncertainty and tucked around her waist as she waited to hear what they would say – was it too much?

“Ah,” Killian murmured, his gaze locking with his twin's over her shoulder – and if his fingers weren't still clutching at her hip, Emma would have guessed them to be scratching behind his ear. “We don't want to hurt you, love...”

“I would tell you if it was too much,” Emma promised, relief and love welling inside of her as she felt Killian's soft lips against her cheek, her body finally relaxing into Hook's as he pulled her back to his chest, her cheek tucked against his heart while he stroked his fingers through her hair.

“Aye, love,” Killian nodded, offering a reassuring smile to Hook before he eased himself off the bed and headed into their bathroom.

Emma listened to the water run for a moment as Hook dragged his nails along her scalp, and then Killian was back, his firm thighs pressing against her as he leaned over her and placed kisses along her spine, his tongue reigniting the fire in her belly as Hook pulled her mouth back to his, claiming her.

A shiver followed the wet trail Killian's mouth had left along her back when she felt the tips of his fingers, cool and damp against her heated flesh, Hook jerking beneath her as he dragged them along his cock and circled where the two of them were joined, their flesh slick and clinging together as he slowly worked a finger around the edge of Hook's length, stretching her walls gently.

“Bloody hell,” Hook growled into her mouth, her lips lifting into a smile as his cock throbbed deliciously within her, responding to the firm pressure of Killian's fingers as he worked his way inside of her, stroking the both of them in a way that was entirely new and intimate.

“Is that too much, love?” Killian murmured against her, slipping a second finger to join the first and angling his hand so they opened her a bit more, his fingertips moving pleasurably against her walls.

“No, god, no,” Emma sighed, the feel of his fingers inside of her with Hook making her hungry for more. “It feels so good, does it feel good?” she whispered, her words muffled against Hook's jaw as she tucked her head into his neck, canting her hips and sliding her knees forward, his cock slipping from her a small amount as Killian's fingers slid further in, a slight burn telling her he'd added a third.

“Aye, darling, it feels...it's so much, feeling you both like this,” Hook groaned, rocking beneath her slightly and feeling his hardened length slide back in easily, the arousal dripping from her more than enough to ease his passage even with Killian's fingers buried inside of her. He thrust twice, feeling Killian's fingers spin against him, their calloused ridges stroking his shaft and making his balls tighten.

“You're so bloody tight, love,” Killian moaned behind her, his own cock desperate to feel the heat that was so tightly wrapped around his digits as he stroked his lovers so intimately, “so wet at the thought of having us both...”

“Yes...want you both, together...nothing else between us...”

Behind her Killian's breath was coming in rough pants against the swell of her ass as he leaned into her, his fingers moving in and out with increasing speed, the steady fullness of Hook's cock and the rolling stimulation his hand was providing pulling more wetness from her body as she shuddered around them both. That deep desire to feel them inside of her together, to feel them come undone with nothing separating them, was twisting and surging through her body as if it were a living thing. She hissed at the sensation of Killian's stubble scratching across her skin, his tongue darting from between his lips to lick a hot path down the cleft of her ass and across her tight opening before arriving to where she was a sopping mess, his fingers pulling free of her with a suddenness that made both she and Hook moan.

His tongue lapped at where they were joined, hot and bathed in her essence, and she rolled her head against Hook's chest as he thrust himself deeply into her, feeling the slide of her walls and Killian's lips as he mouthed along his length before tearing himself away with a growl of impatience.

Emma's gaze settled on Killian, eyes heavy with lust as he took his fingers coated with her clinging arousal and wrapped them around his glorious length, precum beading and leaking from the head as he thrust gently through his fist. Her mouth ran dry and she wriggled her bottom, begging without words for what she knew he was about to give her. A breathy gasp fell from her lips as she felt the tip of his cock press against the place where she was already full, her wetness dripping down Hook's shaft and making them both slick and ready for their lover to join them.

“I'm so desperate to be inside of you, love, but I don't...I don't want to hurt you,” he whispered, thrusting his hips just enough that she could feel his swollen head pressing into her entrance, the pressure forcing Hook's cock more firmly against the other side of her, her clit throbbing mercilessly at the press of him so near to her bundle of nerves.

“You won't,” Emma moaned, lost in the thrill of what they were promising her, the tip of his cock throbbing just inside of her folds as Hook's shaft swelled deep within, his wrist rising to lift her chin and bring her mouth back to his own.

“Tell us if it's too much,” he breathed against her lips, the blue of his eyes a slim ring as he held steady while Killian pushed slowly into her, her body stretching around him as she whimpered at the tight burn of him slipping further in.

A waterfall of moans fell from all three of them as Killian's hard length slid against Hook's as he sought his place within her, the first few inches of him finally encased in her heat and pressed tightly against the firm underside of his twin's cock – his upper body fell heavily against Emma's back as he trembled, fighting the urge to push further, desperately afraid of hurting her as she writhed between them, keening pleas torn from her that begged for more.

Emma reveled in the heat pressed against her from either side, burning her from within, her breasts flush against Hook's chest as they kissed each other lazily, trading heavy breaths as each small movement sent flares of pleasure through them both. Killian's stubble razed her upper back as he rolled his cheek, mouthing her skin and carefully flexing his hips, his cock throbbing mercilessly as it stretched her walls even more, sliding another inch into her sopping heat.

“Emma,” Killian groaned, his arms trembling beside them as he bore his weight over them both. “You're so...so bloody tight like this, love, I can't...”

His voice was wrecked, his breath a shudder against her skin as he held himself back, unable to push any more of his length into her, but unwilling to relinquish the tight grasp of her walls that he'd already claimed.

“Allow me,” Hook murmured, his hand and stump pressing more firmly against her body as he ducked his hips, his cock slipping from her heat just enough that its head rubbed against Killian's, curses of pleasure echoing from them both as they met within her.

“Oh my god...don't stop,” she begged, barely recognizing her own voice.

A quiver raced along her spine as they started moving inside of her together, wild satisfaction burning through her like a wildfire as she felt Killian shift on top of her, sliding himself forward as Hook pulled out, the sinful sounds of her wetness coating them both lost in the harmony of their moans as they found a natural rhythm, Hook thrusting deeply within her as Killian pulled nearly free, the thick muscles of their cocks stroking one another as they claimed her entirely, imprinting themselves on her. Killian plunged back into her heat as Hook retreated, the pleasant burn that accompanied their movements fading into a latent heat that only stoked the neediness within her.

“More...need more,” she gasped, nearly biting her tongue as their speed increased with their confidence, her body receiving no break as they hammered her walls one after the other, desperate groans of pleasure muted against her body as they took her, her walls stretching to accommodate them both as they slipped past each other.

Killian released his tortured hold on the sheets and found Hook's arm, his fingers curling possessively around the firm bulge of his muscle as he slowly gave Emma what she needed – more – her body too slick and open to protest as he slid deeper within her, pressing wickedly along the length of Hook's cock as he held steady within her. Hook's head rolled back into the mattress as he let out a drawn out groan at the sensation, his fingers digging into Emma's skin.

“Emma,” Killian whispered, pulling her from the haze of wordless pleasure she was caught in. “Too much, love?”

“Fuck...no,” she hissed, wriggling between them and trying to work them both deeper – it hurt, the stretch of them both fully inside of her a confusing mix of pleasure and pain, but the image of what they must look like joined together in this way was playing behind her eyelids, raw desire and feral need muting the harsh edges of the discomfort.

“You, Jones?” Killian groaned, feeling his twin's cock bob inside of Emma and against his own as he shifted, their bodies slick with sweat.

“Bloody hell, Killian,” he responded, a broken tremor in his voice as his hardness throbbed once more, the feeling of them pushed so tightly together inside of their love nearly making him come undone, “just take it slow, mate.”

“Aye,” Killian rasped, and he slowly pulled back, setting a sedate rhythm that had the swollen head of his cock stroking Hook inside of her before pressing deliciously against her most sensitive area.

Hook stayed still within her, allowing his twin to control their pleasure, his breath coming in panted gasps as Emma dragged her fingers up his chest, snaking two of them between his parted lips. He latched on, swirling his tongue around the fullness she gave him, knowing how turned on it made her to see either of them with their mouths full – whether it was of her or themselves. He could feel his own climax nearing, the tightness throbbing and pulsing with a need to break free, Killian's thick member stroking along the ridge of his own shaft before withdrawing and sliding deep once again.

Between them, Emma's pleasure rolled from her tongue on desperate cries and whimpers, her body nearly slack as Killian fucked himself into her over and over, his own peak nearing as Emma's arousal ran down his shaft and slicked his balls where they slapped against their union, his body taught with the need to spend himself surrounded by the two people he loved.

It had never failed to make her dripping wet, watching her two pirates take their pleasure together, their cocks heavy and thick in their hands as they slid them along one another, toned bodies entwined as they stroked themselves to completion, their release coating them both and dripping along their fingers – and knowing that right now she was the heat pressing and holding them together, that it was all of them in this moment – it tore at that last shred of control she'd been clinging to.

“Almost there...” she choked out, barely able to form the words, coherent thought leaving her at the sound of Hook whispering encouragement against her skin and Killian groaning his approval, hissing how sinfully tight she already was and how he couldn't wait to feel her come undone around them both. “I'm there, oh god, oh my god, fuck...”

The coil of pleasure inside of her snapped, rippling through her body almost painfully as she finally came, her neck arching and a cry of elation pouring from her mouth as her core clenched around them, Killian's thrusts slowing as her walls throbbed erratically, squeezing them within her. Hook bucked beneath her as his cock swelled, his balls drawing up and tightening as he erupted into her, Killian groaning brokenly on top of them as he followed, his nails digging into Hook's arm as they both pumped her full of their seed, the heat and rush of their essences bathing her walls only drawing out their joint pleasure, cocks throbbing as their come leaked around their shafts and dripping from her pink folds.

The world around them was reduced to nothing more than the way their hearts raced together, their breath mingling and fingers drawing sighs from one another as they surrendered to that blissful fog, reality slowly slipping back to them as their heated bodies cooled.

“Emma, love,” Hook murmured, coming back to them first, reaching with his stump to nudge the swathe of blonde curls from her face. “Are you with us, darling?”

Emma groaned something noncommittal and buried her face stubbornly back into Hook's chest, eliciting a chuckle from above her as Killian carefully extricated his softening cock from inside of her, Hook slipping free only a moment later. She sighed, both upset at the loss and relieved, the soreness she couldn't feel during the exhilarating high of their lovemaking already beginning to set in, but the sensation of both of their releases running out of her was enough to make her purr in contentment, her teeth catching her lip as she lost herself for just a few moments more – reveling in how amazing it had felt to have them both coming inside of her at once, her own orgasm drawn out by the way their cocks had swollen and pumped her full of their seed.

Killian had rolled his his weight from on top of her, dropping tiredly to the bed within the bend of Hook's arm, his twin's fingers drawing lazy circles through the dark hairs covering his chest as they both stared at the canopy above them, still trying to bring their breathing back to a normal pace. Emma felt sleep tugging insistently at her body and she rolled to Hook's other side, nestling herself around his arm and pulling his stump into her embrace as she tucked herself against him.

“We should get you into the bath, darling – you'll be sore,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her disheveled crown of hair even as she tightened her grip stubbornly around him, her own lips marking his scarred skin with their soft caress.

“Later...” she sighed, unwilling to return to the world when her body was still thrumming from how deeply she loved them both.

“Aye,” Killian echoed, stretching his limbs that were burning from exhaustion, his chest still glistening with sweat and his body covered in a mix of the three of them, Hook just as deliciously filthy. “I'm inclined to side with our Swan on this one, mate.”

“Besides,” Emma muttered, stifling a yawn against Hook's skin and stretching a hand across his chest to find Killian, “if we sleep now and worry about laundry tomorrow, maybe I'll be feeling up to testing out how sturdy that new washer is...”

“Our insatiable minx,” Hook laughed, but he could feel the both of them relaxing into him, and when sleep pulled heavily at his eyes as well, he was content to let it take him – the feel of Emma's soft breaths against his scarred wrist and Killian's fingers entwining with his own following him into that peaceful darkness of slumber and carrying him back into the light of another day.

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmomof4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo

#Captain Swan #CS fic #cs fanfic #emma and hook #sailtoafarawayland #entwined #wish hook #m/f/m #m/m

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cross-d-a · 3 years

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fic tag game

aaahhh @vishcount thank you for tagging me!!! These are so fun and I adored reading about your fic journey~! ೖ(⑅σ̑ᴗσ̑)ೖ ❤

OH as a note!! For the ppl I tag at the end I don’t expect you to read all of this bc it’s A Lot!!! but I figured you might want to do this game yourself? haha :)

Name: cross-d-a shortened version of my first ever username. unfortunately stuck with it now haha but i’m fond of it :p wish it was cuter tho!!

Posting the rest of this under the cut so it doesn’t eat up people’s dashes!!

(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Fandoms:

oKAY YIKES there are....honestly too many too name. I’ve got a short and obsessive attention span so it’s either all or nothing with me usually. When I can stay in a fandom for a long period of time it’s a miracle. I’ll name the bigger ones that I’ve all written fic for! Even if I’ve never posted them haha

Right now I’m very firmly into Daomu Biji (dmbj). It feels like it’s both got a crap ton of content and yet barely anything at all haha. Maybe because the English fandom is so small. But at least there are a bunch of dramas and books!!! I really, really, really adore dmbj so much!! And a large part of that is the fandom!!! It's been a really cool and unique experience! Everyone in it is truly so kind and wonderful, and I’ve made some really incredible friends because of it (looking at you vish!! ❤). I’ve got a bunch of wips, but I’ve only posted two fics for dmbj!

Before this I was very into Guardian and mdzs. MDZS was my first foray into cdramas and Guardian’s Zhu Yilong really suckered me into watching more haha I also have fics for both these fandoms!

My very first fandoms were Fullmetal Alchemist, D. Gray-Man and Naruto. My very old ffnet account has fics for these and I’ve got a bunch of newer wips on my tablet. Then Star Trek, Twilight, BBC Merlin, Sherlock, Death Note, Harry Potter, How to Train Your Dragon, Battlestar Galactica, Avatar the Last Airbender and Marvel were a few of my main ones in high school. Plus a bunch of anime (like Fruits Basket! and Kuroshitsuji and Natsume Yuujinchou).

Then college hit and I renewed my childhood love of Tolkien (mainly lotr and the Hobbit), and Star Wars. I also found Teen Wolf! Then after college it was Stranger Things.

I find myself in a cycle of mild fondness and complete obsession with these fandoms haha I go back to Star Wars at least once a year!! Then I’m in the gffa hole for a few months. Marvel also reoccurs, depending on how interested I am in new content! Star Trek I always always always go back to. TOS is my comfort show and it will never fade from my heart ❤

But for now I’m stuck in cdrama hell and I love it

Tropes:

Time travel, found family, whump+hurt/comfort, fairytale-like elements, resurrective immortality (thanks to a “Nine Lives” Hobbit fic), CROSSOVERS

I’m a slut for all these things so they often worm their way into my plots haha

I also just- love weird premises. I think that’s the anime influencing me haha

Fic I spent most time on:

My series he leaves sand and stardust in my wake (main fic is hurricane on the edge of oblivion), I have...spent five years on now. I have done so much research for this fic it’s insane.

The premise is force ghost!Obi-Wan getting shunted back into his tiny 10 year old self. I incorporate a shit ton of legends and I try to stay as canon as possible. I basically want this au to feel like it’s 1000% plausible while still getting all my gay shit. It’s chock full of whump, redemption, found family, minor characters turning into major characters, and I’ve got slavery uprising on the mind, too. It’s just- everything I could ever want to explore in the Star Wars universe basically.

It’s my first big project. I started doodling and scribbling ideas in the margins of my notebook in my Scottish History class. I adore it so so so much. But, because of my hyperfixation and fleeting intense obsession with things it makes it- really difficult to consistently update. I leave it for months at a time and I am constantly guilt-ridden about it. Because it’s my baby and I have a lot of wonderful readers. I fear I’ll never be able to finish it. Especially since I’ve written so much and I’m still only in the beginning of it. ( ; A ; )

Also, I’ve spent so much time with Xanatos, Feemor and Bruck that they just feel like mine now. I can’t read any fics that involve them, it’s too strange. Which is a damn shame because I love them so much haha OH ALSO!! I think it’s the first really big fic to include those three?? So I’m very proud about that haha (I’ve had so many ppl comment about how they actually Give A Shit about these three and are Invested bc of me haha)

Favorite fic(s) you’ve written:

hurricane on the edge of oblivion (with nowhere to go) (Star Wars)

My long-term passion project. My love-letter to Star Wars, I suppose. Reading it now I feel like a lot of it is clunky or long-winded, but I think it really shows the foundation of my writing today :) Main characters are Obi-Wan, Xanatos Du Crion, Qui-Gon Jinn, Bruck Chun and Feemor. Eventually we’ll get to Maul, Savage, Feral, Shmi Skywalker, (more!) Ahsoka, Anakin and a shit ton of clones ❤

things we hunger for (Guardian)

My Ye Zun self-indulgent fic. It’s a time travel amnesia Weilanzun! Honestly has some of my fav writing I’ve ever done. It’s so soft and really indulges in the hurt/comfort. It gives Ye Zun the friends and family I think he deserves. Also, he gets to grow into a (mostly!) functional person and I adore him.

the beast that slumbers within your soul (mdzs)

Jiang Cheng centric fic!! I feel like all my favourite fics I’ve written are love letters haha. This is one def my love letter to Jiang Cheng. This fic possessed me for two whole days. I wrote 16k in almost one sitting. I went to sleep at 6 in the morning bc I couldn’t stop writing. And when I drifted off I kept thinking of new ideas so I’d whip out my phone and write down lines and notes. I- have never ever ever felt that way about anything. It was- insane. It felt insane. It was so amazing. I’m still riding the memory of that high.

Basically Jiang Cheng actually finds Baoshan Sanren and it turns out she’s a fox demon and Jiang Cheng is descended from wolves. It’s- okay I said the fic above this had my favourite writing?? That was a lie. This has my favourite writing I’ve ever done. It’s unfinished bc I am in dmbj hell but I am still excited about the next chapter which features Wei Wuxian’s pov!!

the whispers of spirits (dmbj)

My current passion project. In a way it kinda feels similar to hurricane? Bc multiple povs, incorporating different aspects of canon (we’ll get there!! I promise!), shit ton of research, etc. etc. I really really really love it for so many reasons. I’m basically taking all the things I was unsatisfied with in Reboot and Sha Hai and running with it. Found family and whump galore! It’s also a love letter to the women of dmbj who really deserve so so so much better.

Honourable mention to:

One Day (you’ll have given more of yourself than is meant to be taken) (Marvel)

This fic also kinda possessed me. I just- couldn’t get rid of the idea of a trans!Thor. And I mean a mtf Thor! It’s just? So many people look at Thor and go “that’s a Real Man.” Full stop. They never think there could be anything more, and it really really really bothered me. So I wrote out my feelings. I’m not trans. I don’t have that experience at all. I’ve had issues and confusion about my gender but nothing like this. I just wanted to do justice to this idea of Thor in my head. And I still feel a bit nervous having posted it. But I've gotten so many comments from people who really connected with what I’ve written? So I’m very very thankful I wrote it and it has a very special place in my heart. It’s a very cathartic fic.

Fic I spent least time on:

Probably we rise (Star Wars) and I think it shows haha. I wrote it in response to Dave Filoni posting a drawing of Ahsoka and Gandalf telling her “People thought I was dead, too, and look how that turned out...” So I incorporated Ahsoka (and Din and Grogu and Ezra!!!) into the ending of Rise of Skywalker, kinda explaining how I think they could all still be alive. :)

Longest fic:

hurricane is my longest fic (159k) but I’m kinda worried whispers will eclipse that.....

Shortest fic:

Of my posted ones it’s The Five Moments it Took Tony and Scott to Admit They Were Best Friends (and the first time they ever did), currently clocks at 1.6k. It’s unfinished tho so maybe that doesn’t count.... otherwise it’s we rise which is completed and 2k.

Most hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks:

hurricane overall has the most of all these. Though I don’t think hits counts as much bc it’s multi-chapter. If you discount multi-chapter stuff, most hits goes to my obikin smutfic Homecoming, bc people are horny af haha

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on:

If I had energy I’d like to rewrite the beginning of hurricane bc it feels so so wordy. I’d want to expand on One Day bc I really would like to write a whole series with trans!Thor. And like- I’d really like the focus to finish any of my WIPs.

Share a bit of a WIP: I really wanna share my Guardian/dmbj crossover that I started back in August. Bc I adore the idea of wu xie&shen wei&ye zun triplets! Plus time travel!!! I dunno if I’ll ever finish it tho ( ; A ; ) It just feels like a lot to deal with right now.

This scene takes place during the Mountain Awl arc. Guardian crew and desperado fam run across each other at the village! Wu Xie has recently found out that he’s adopted and he’s searching for answers in the area Sanshu originally found amnesiac!toddler!Wu Xie in :) Gonna pull two snippets bc I’m v excited and this might be the only time anyone else sees this fic haha:

“Oh?” Pangzi focuses on Yunlan now, lips twisting. “You think I’ve ‘got the wrong guy,’ huh?” He laughs, but it’s not a nice sound. “That’s rich! Are you that cocky or are you just stupid?”

Bristling, Yunlan drops his hands and scowls. “Excuse me?”

“Sir,” Shen Wei tries. “I think—”

Pangzi’s eyes snap back to Shen Wei, sharp and blazing. “How dare you fucking steal his face!”

What?

Automatically, Zhao Yunlan turns to Shen Wei, but the professor looks just as shell-shocked as Zhao Yunlan feels which- is seriously something. Since everything about Shen Wei is so carefully controlled, kept to the minimum. Except for those delightful little smiles that bloom across his lovely face, or the startled little bursts of laughter that fall from his lips. Or even when anger and frustration spark across his features, cracking his calm veneer open enough that he can see a glimmer of what lies beneath, the fire in those eyes. Zhao Yunlan delights in those moments, makes a game of making Shen Wei’s control slip.

He tells himself it’s nothing more than a game. Nothing more than trying to find out what makes Shen Wei tick.

Zhao Yunlan’s always been very bad at lying to himself. Or very good. Depending on who you’re asking.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Yunlan splutters.

But before anyone can say anything else, a very familiar voice calls:

“Pangzi? What’s wrong?”

Yunlan can feel Shen Wei stiffen, and Yunlan himself is pulled to that voice like a planet in orbit, like the inevitable plummet to the ground.

Another shadow wavers in the doorway before it steps out onto the dirt. Light illuminates shaggy hair, limning it gold, sharply casting everything else in shadow. But as the figure nears, the contrast softens until Yunlan can see the newcomer’s face properly and- and—

“Wu Xie!” Pangzi growls. “We’ve got ourselves an impostor!”

The man wearing Shen Wei’s face steps up to them, brows furrowed and mouth pulled down into a sharp frown. He glances between them, eyes landing on Shen Wei. His scowl deepens. He opens his mouth, but then—

“Wu Xie?” Shen Wei breathes, all trembly and lost and hopeless.

Heart in his throat, Yunlan turns to Shen Wei again. Turns and flinches at that stricken look upon Shen Wei’s pale pinched face.

“A-Xie?” Shen Wei chokes. “Didi?”

and

Pangzi snorts. “Professor?”

“I-it’s true!”

Startled Yunlan swings his attention over to Jiajia who clenches her backpack to her chest, face screwed up in admirable determination. “P-professor Shen took me and Xiao Quan on a field trip to investigate an archeological site around here!”

“Oh?” Wu Xie drawls all slow and amused. “Well, what a coincidence. We’re archeologists, too.”

“With guns?” Yunlan bites out.

Wu Xie raises a brow, grin full of teeth. “Well, you can never be too prepared.”

“Right,” Yunlan drawls right back. “Are you a professor, too, then? You come here with your students?”

Wu Xie outright grins. “You could say that, I suppose.”

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the men rolls his eyes. He’s the one with sharp features, glasses and looped earbuds. Does he think it’s appropriate to listen to music at a time like this? Yunlan admires the man’s gall.

aahhhh vish thanks so much again for tagging me!! This was so fun to relive my fic memories!! I’m gonna tag @alwaysaslutforshakespeare @jockvillagersonly @tehfanglyfish @lichelleme @undyingsunshine @humanlighthouse @thewindsofsong I’m curious about your guys’ writing and fandom journey!! As always, no pressure to actually complete this!! I just thought it was fun ❤

Wow if you read all of this I am very humbled and impressed, thank you!!

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

#cross talks #my fic #fanfiction #uhhh what else do i tag this as i dunno #about me #cross posts #wip fic

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cherryquitecontrary · 4 years

Text

Love’s Tender Chokehold

Asra Alnazar x Elvira Casimiro

In which Asra is honest with his resurrected apprentice and feels the weight of his emotions.

He should have never suggested that she get into the romantic poetry.

Sure, he was glad that her reading had greatly improved. And oh, was it just amazing to see her drawn back to the book of poetry that she had indulged in so many times before she had slipped through his fingers. For a moment, Asra could pretend that Elvira had never left (or, more accurately, that he had never made the mistake of leaving her). He could pretend that they were both the same lovestruck teenagers that they were when they met, back when they were still green and hopeful. His mind drifted to the first time he listened to her recite the poetry in the shop, chin resting on his hand with what could only be described as a goofy grin of pure admiration on his face. A hearty chuckle echoed in his mind, belonging to Elvira’s aunt Marina as she cautioned her niece to “be careful, lest your friend allows your words to carelessly pierce his heart.” Little did she know, he had been careless enough to allow her to pierce his heart the very moment they met.

But as quickly as the gentle embrace of the memory had set in, an all too familiar throbbing guilt rose to the surface. He shouldn’t allow himself to get lost in her words, knowing that they were not for him anymore. These were no longer the words that passed their lips when they lied tangled together in the dark of the night. As far as anyone but the Arcana knew, all they would ever be again were the words tattooed on the half of his heart that still belonged to him (although he knew that there would never again be a part of his heart that didn’t belong to her). He tried to tune her out. If he could focus on the inventory for just one moment. But, once she finished a poem, the magician found himself asking her to read another, if only to lose himself in the lilt of her voice for a while. The soft comfort of his affection would slowly eclipse his guilt for a stanza or two, before he submitted himself back to trying to focus on something other than her.

“Master, have you ever been in love?”

Elvira’s words shattered Asra’s careful concentration, and he hated his heart for responding to her question before his brain could fully process it. The organ threw itself against his ribs like a frightened bird in a cage.

“Me? In love? That’s a funny question.” He kept his back turned to her, hoping that she wouldn’t notice the way he all but stopped breathing.

His apprentice huffed in response and tilted her head at him. “Yes, you, silly. I’m not being funny. I’m just curious. So? Have you?”

He half-turned to her, raising a cloud-colored eyebrow. The sight of her was enough to make his heart jump up into his throat. She sat on the counter, legs crossed with the book in her lap. Just like the last time she recited poetry to him. He knew it was better to lie. It’s not like she would know. The less she knew about the truth, the safer she was. That had been his reluctant policy ever since the last time the truth landed her in a deathlike slumber. There was no telling what would set off the catatonia. It was not worth the risk. He knew that.

“Master?”

But then, Asra remembered her as she was when he first saw her: a wide-eyed teenager with the brightest smile he’d ever seen. He first saw her under the warm glow of festive lamplight, and he was sure that she had been sent down from the heavens by the way she shone. Her eyes seemed to hold a galaxy’s worth of stars. The cacophony of the revelry around him was drowned out by the beating of his own heart. Everything around them faded away, and for a blissful moment they were the only two in the world. He remembers his tongue getting tied when he first spoke to her, and he’ll never forget damning his heart for speaking out of turn. But, she laughed. And, oh, was it a beautiful sight. They spent the night as many did during the Masquerade: talking, laughing, and twirling to the music that poured from every crevice of the city. Even when she was called back inside late at night did her presence linger. He fell asleep that night to the echoes of her laughter. Only the Arcana knew how many times he fell asleep to the sound after that. He didn’t know it yet then. But, everything that anyone else had called “love”, Asra had called “Elvira”.

“Once.”

He had said the word so softly, it hardly even registered to the magician that he’d said it aloud at all. He tried to find it within himself to curse his heart for betraying him once again. But, if he couldn’t tell her the truth, this would have to be enough.

“Really?” Elvira swung her legs over to the other side of the counter to face him, eyes sparkling with interest and hugging her book to her chest. Gosh, those eyes. They were like fields of dew-covered clover, and, oh, were they so easy to get lost in. But now they were looking up at him, waiting for an answer to her question, blissfully unaware that the truth was far more complicated than she would likely ever know. “Who were they? What were they like? Where are they now?”

Asra tried not to wince at her excitement.

“She was... a friend. We were young and naive when we met, but our love was... everything. It was all-consuming. To me, it was as if she hung the stars in the sky. She was so warm. Fiery, actually. She had no problem putting me in my place the moment I stepped out of line. But she was fair, caring. When we were together, it was like the world was kinder. We had so many plans for the future. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her...” He trailed off before he forgot himself. He had said more than enough, and he inwardly cursed the open dam of spewing emotion that he called a mouth. Turning from her was all he could manage to do, if only to hide the pain and guilt in his eyes. “Anyway, that was a long time ago now. She’s not here anymore. In the end, she went somewhere I couldn’t follow. That was the end of it.”

The silence that hung between them after his revelation was thick, so thick Asra swore he could choke on it. It was just a confirmation of his fears. What he spoke of would’ve been better left unsaid, if he just hadn’t given in to his heart. It was stupid and irresponsible of him.

But then, there was the sound of rustling cloth. And then the soft padding of bare feet on the hardwood floor. Finally, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, and the whole world shrunk down to that one single point of contact. Asra’s entire body stiffened, eyes widening as he turned his head slowly to look at the head of ebony colored hair that rested against the back of his shoulder. Her hold was firm, but not too tight. Still, it managed to leave him breathless.

“E-Elvira?”

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Master.”

He placed his hands on hers and patted them, letting out a slow exhale he didn’t even realize that he was holding.

“It’s alright, Elvira. People leave, they drift away. It’s a fact of life, really.”

Elvira’s arms quickly unwound and Asra turned to face his raven haired apprentice. The gentle fire in her eyes burned his own as he raised an eyebrow quizzically at her.

“I won’t.”

His breath caught in his throat once again at the sound of Elvira’s declaration. For a moment, time stood still. How was it that, after all this time, she could still stop his entire world with a mere sentence? After what seemed like a brief eternity, he let out a puff of air.

“Evie, I appreciate th-”

Elvira crossed her arms and furrowed her brows, cutting him off. There was a spark in her eyes, one that Asra knew meant that he had struck a nerve. Her glare was like magic itself. It was the kind that could stop anyone in their tracks.

“Don’t do that. I mean what I say. Even if I’m not here physically, I’ll always be with you. Isn’t that what you tell me?”

Asra didn’t even bother arguing. How could he, when she put it that way? The firm conviction, the resoluteness. That’s just how she always was. If he closed his eyes, it would be just like listening to her scold him before everything fell apart. A chuckle escaped his chest as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright, alright. I give.” He held his hands up in mock surrender. He chuckled again when Elvira gave a self-satisfied nod. What a stubborn woman she was. Asra would argue that it was her best quality. He watched her walk back over to the counter and hoist herself up to where she was sitting before.

“Elvira?” She looked over to him, eyebrows raised slightly. “You know I mean it when I say that, right? About never leaving you.”

She stared back at him in silence for a moment before shrugging.

“Of course you do. Honestly, I don’t blame you. I’m a delight to be around.”

Laughter bubbled up from Asra’s chest, and it was the lightest he had felt in what felt like eons. He set down his inventory book and pulled his step stool over to where Elvira sat on the counter. He leaned his elbow against the smooth wood, resting his chin on his hand. He looked up at Elvira, his beloved apprentice, his resurrected love, and smiled.

“Go on, you delight. Read a couple of more poems for me.”

#I'M FINALLY DONE WITH THIS GOOD GOD #this took months to finish and the final product is a vastly different story from when I started out #here have a painfully tender Asra #also idk about the name but I changed it a billion times and this one stuck #asra alnazar #The Arcana #fan apprentice #the arcana asra #The Arcana game #Elvira x Asra #Asra x MC #Asra x Apprentice #;The Magician #Elvira Casimiro #;Cherry Writes

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duckiesteasmiles · 4 years

Text

缘份 – yuanfen

IR Month – day iv: crossing blades/crossing hearts

Also available to read on AO3.

“...but, when she slept or when she was alone, when the children were quiet, her mind spread round him like the sea. he was always present.” – jeanette winterson, lighthouse keeping

when thoughts are free from worry and the perils of an untold future are lulled with afternoon naps, warmer months and sun-filled seasons are what people think of!

rukia is puffed cheek and laughable – and ichigo sighs incredulously at the sounds of another squabble that he was sure to win (his heart lied – for he had already lost to the sight of her many years ago).

she claims that if he is the sun then she is the moon – flawed and forever changing like the bidding of the tides and the months gone by. warmth is what all hearts seek, when comfort is low and bones are lazy and crave. where there is sun, there is life – and this fool of a man – what he had done is given her the very essence of what it meant to live without considering anyone else with a burning noose in his hand.

he bites and responds with memories of a girl coiled in a pink scarf with the lights of an ice rink brightening her eyes on a chilled air night. where he fulfilled her dreams and caught her in his arms as sparks of colour lit up the night sky and promised of a tomorrow that would never come.

for what was the purpose of the sun, if it did not provide it’s light to his only reason of being – the moon? selfless and kind, she lit pathways for the damned and patched their wounds with lessons of the heart and a place of respite in her lap. the rainfall that had subsided had washed away the tar from his heart and allowed him to begin healing a wound that had never closed.

shoulders settle in defeat, two hands rise to hold her world within her palms. in the sun, she sees their battles, haunting blood splatter that left broken constellations on his skin and lost comrades haunt his eyes. a foot gently taps his knee, commanding to lower until she is able to trace her fingers up his cheeks and through his hair.

their swords have since eclipsed and sheathed – perhaps for a time until they can bicker about their count of wrinkles; but the memories remain and recovery, perilous.

in growing comfort, they reminisce the beginning of their selfish indulgences of subtle experiments and laughable excuses — too tired from kido training or food comas that willed them not to move a muscle or an inch. silence concluded that they found solace between their fingertips; sleep lawed their hearts never be without one another again.

rukia – once turned on her side, fingers tracing freckled constellations on his left arm – asked ichigo how he measured time, now that the sirens of war had stopped blaring. his answer came out in childlike innocence, heart on his sleeve.

ichigo – once shifted within the small frame of the arms that held him, lips planting a kiss upon collarbones – asked rukia how she stopped her mind from thinking about the horrors they had seen. her answer came in the form of a mother’s love, lips to his forehead.

it was once foretold by a shopkeeper with horrible taste in hats that souls could speak through crossed swords. indeed, there were conversations that could be held within the eyes and punctuation through breath – but souls needed to touch; to be present; to be whole to be understood.

their answer to each other mimicked each other like crossed hearts, telepathic and ridiculous.

— “you’re here, aren’t you?”

#bleach #bleach fic #ichiruki #kurosaki ichigo #kuchiki rukia #ichirukimonth #ichirukimonth2020 #irmonth2020 #irmonth #day 4: crossing blades - crossing hearts #nami writes #sorry this is a tiny bit late!#I was a little uncertain about this one but eventually found my way - just like these two

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thebalkanwitch · 3 years

Text

New Moon in Taurus!

Venus in Gemini!

Mercury in Gemini!

Jupiter in Pisces!

•

This Taurus season has taught us a lot about ourselves (*bonus points* since Venus was in Taurus as well). We learned the truth about how we feel in relation to ourselves and how that mentality reflects in other relationships in our lives (my pervious post discusses this at length. Essentially how we accept what we think we deserve in all aspects of our lives).

•

We indulged in ourselves, worked on ourselves and realized we really can receive and do deserve the absolute best! Leading up to this full moon, Venus moved from Taurus into Gemini and we may have felt a last hurrah of horniness (for lack of better phrasing) and lovey-dovey feelings. With Venus now stationed in Gemini for the next month, this energy will shift to a more playful, even fickle tone.

•

With Jupiter in Pisces, we are honing our vision and focusing on our goal. The timing is simpatico! Many of us have gone through the wringer emotionally and are finally drying ourselves off, having had all the excess and unnecessary shit removed from our lives. Use the knowledge you gained during these last few months to propel you forward, in the direction you chose. This is destiny. This is kismet.

•

In mythology, Jupiter (Zeus) was not only the God of thunder, but the diety that ruled the sky. He chose this mantle because the seas were too limited for him, they were finite, (thus given to Neptune/Poseidon), and he had no interest in dealing with the dead (that job was passed onto Pluto/Hades). He chose to rule the sky because it was expansive. In this way, Jupiter also corresponds astrologically. It is the planet that rules growth, expansion, healing, prosperity, etc. When Jupiter is in Pisces, we are being given a safe space to utilize this energy and grow.

•

Pisces are dreamy and full of inspiration and ideas; utilize this! Focus on one goal and really follow through. We are heading into eclipse season and it’s a good idea to stay focused and build momentum now. There is abundance everywhere, tap into it! We are still in Taurus season and this new moon is in Taurus, so we feel compelled to focus on our security. Bulls are strong and hard workers, so keep that in mind when you’re working on your goals. Slow and steady wins the race, after all.

•

In a nutshell: Slow and steady, What brings you joy? Comfort? Stability? Write it down!

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fistsoflightning · 4 years

Text

20: solar eclipse

prompt: free day ⮞ perihelion || masterpost || other fills || ao3 mirror

word count: 1165

Oktai thinks this situation must be terribly frustrating to Sadu and Zaya, what with Magnai apparently having made an advance on him after fighting the ironmen and him ignoring it in favor of bleeding. (Or; usually it’s the moon that moves to eclipse the sun.)

HahahAHAH I KINDA SORTA TRIPPED INTO THIS SHIP, NOW DIDN’T I… okay for real thought Magnai/Oktai was a joke until it wasn’t and I have to apologize to mom squad for putting up with my bullshite yet again. Oktai I don’t know if you deserved this but you sure have it now. Takes place a few days after the MSQ Naadam!

To the sound of ruffled feathers does Oktai wake, blinking sleep from his eyes as he untangles hair from round his horns. Taban would call him a fool if she could, seeing how he utterly and completely collapsed onto his bed after just a week of proper Khagan duties, seeing how he forgot his usually careful braid to keep from waking to the morning chill and an absolute mess.

In his waking dream, he catches the last few glimpses of yesterday’s golden dream, indulging in the fleeting image of his sisters taking their supper in his tent rather than at home with their mothers, firelight and shadows dancing around the walls of his tent. The air nips at his skin as he pushes his covers aside, an unwelcome greeting to the day but one he must accept nonetheless. Any normal morning, and he would have lingered in the embrace of his woolen blankets, let the light be blocked out by the woven pillows and plushes Sarnai insists on dumping into his lap whenever he goes out to the yurt he should still live in, at the edges of Reunion.

Outside his yurt, someone shuffles their feet, fingers brushing against the closed canvas flaps and letting shards of morning sunlight, bright and blinding, scramble their way into his yurt.

Nhaama save him, if that yol—or falcon, he supposes, thinking of the Domans once more—has carried someone seeking audience so early that not even Iturgen khan has not yet graced Reunion with his presence he is going to have words to say.

He tries his best to carry himself as someone worthy of being khagan would, but today he was promised by Taban herself that she would ward off who she could, staying the night in a temporary yurt. Today, he’d been full intending to simply rest—aching muscles and bandaged legs besides, the bags under his eyes had begun to worry even Zaya, who had known he suffered with a lack of sleep since they were small. If it were later, perhaps he’d have tried to present himself better than one who had just rolled from his bed, somehow put together like Magnai had been in his reign, but he is tired and new to having constant visitors so instead he harshly pulls back the flaps of his yurt to glare in the eyes of—

Oh. Magnai Oronir himself.

Part of him starts to wish he dawdled to fix his hair, right about now.

“Ah. Khagan.” Magnai eyes him curiously and if it were not for the fact his arms hurt and moving them too fast would result in reopening wounds Oktai would have hid his face in his hands. “I have caught you at a bad time, I take it.”

Oktai grunts in agreement. No shite.

“Bold fashion choice, Oktai,” he continues, crossing his arms over his chest and oh, if his lance weren’t propped up at least a few yalms away from him he’d have the thought to sweep Magnai off his feet—not in the way that would have Tuya giggling, either. “Surely your hurts are not so grave as to turn away a single audience. Your sister seemed inclined to agree.”

How Magnai managed to convince Taban, who has been wary of him ever since he asked Sarnai if she was his Nhaama, is well beyond Oktai, but if she saw him in he’s not quite able to decline, now is he.

He lets one of the yurt flaps fall down as he covers his yawn, stepping aside to invite the Oronir khan in—surely, if he has come so early in the morning, taking his yol right from the Dawn Throne to Reunion, surely it must be of import. Enough to push aside his stomach’s low burning hunger. He ambles about, lighting a small fire while Magnai settles down too stiff to be here for business; perhaps something about the spring falling into summer’s heat, then, something worrisome that has not yet torn itself into an issue proper.

What he doesn’t expect when he sits across from Magnai is the words that spill from his mouth, like water into the Azim Khaat. Like sunlight dripping slowly through his palms as he raises his hand to block the sun during his checks around Reunion every evening.

“You have heard enough of me asking about for my Nhaama, I am sure. As a child of Azim, it has been a belief I have grown with, held just as dear as my axe,” Magnai says, and the light twitch of his tail has his brow furrowing just slightly. “As of late, I may have had a revelation as to why I have searched for so long without answer.”

Oh, Oktai thinks idly as he sets another piece of firewood into the small pit. He’d… not quite expected this; now, with the morning chill having given way to the warmth of the flames, his stomach feels much too strange.

“I was told she would be gentle. Ethereal. A dancer in the morning mist born of the dusk.” Magnai clears his throat, a flush just barely apparent on his cheeks as firelight dances across the gold of his hair. “But I see the same in you, and I question whether I have been searching too far all along.”

Oktai tips his head even as he feels his face flush brighter than his, pale skin not making a good canvas with which to hide his flustered state. He had not expected Magnai to be so… demure? Soft-voiced, about this?

His confusion must register as disdain, as Magnai inhales sharply as his eyes meet Oktai’s, finally lifted from the embers of the fire.

“Though I have been known to make demands of others,” he explains, hands clasped together in his lap as if he might break should he let go. “I would not make the same of you. You and your sibling, I have known for long enough to… value our relationship. More than most. If my words discomfort you—”

“No,” he blurts out, and when Magnai’s eyes widen he knows he’s already stepped in the hole, so why not finish. “I—” He stands up, abrupt as he walks over and sits himself closer to Magnai, now, worried of how he might convey this in a way that would make sense. One that takes less words, something that he is… not out of his comfort, to express.

He settles for brushing the knuckles of his hand light as a feather against Magnai’s horn, keeping his rather embarrassed stare level as he looks into the golden glow of Magnai’s eyes and seeing a glowing sun in the warrior’s shock—one more bearable to look at than the one rising just outside. Swathed in yellow and goldenrod, he is, about as close to the sun as he might get without filling himself with flame.

And perhaps it does get across, with how Magnai’s face softens from his tense stare and his hands unclasp.

#ffxiv #my writing #tales from the blue #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020 #elie's ffxivwrite2020 #magnai oronir #oktai qestir #s: solar eclipse #two dudes attempting to combat some notion of internalized homophobia but also sun and moon correlations bc hee hee #look idk man...... carmela you should not support me sdgnnsdfnnsdfn htis is. stupid.#SLIDING IN SUUUPER CLOSE TO THE DEADLINE HAHA WHOOPS #im going to rewrite this and make it a whoel fic. later. sometime. i swear

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pessimisticlatte · 4 years

Text

Glass Roses - Chapter 7

This chapter is almost exclusively Marichat with a dash of Nino x Alya/Carapace x Rena Rouge

~Reveal, not full but there’s a reveal~ Warning: angst, kissing, teens being awkward ~ In this story all the characters are at least 17 years of age! Age of consent in France is 15 but there isn’t anything overtly sexual! Enjoy! ~~~~~~~~~

“What’s wrong, Kitty?” Marinette’s question was muffled against Chat’s chest.

“Can’t a guy give his best friend a hug?” Chat looked down at her with a playful smile that showed both his dimples and his slightly elongated canines. The way he said best friend sent a pang through her chest.

“Well, you can but it was just unexpected,” Chat Noir pulled back slightly and looked down at the dark haired girl with her arms currently squished against her sides. Her frame fit into his so perfectly, the top of her head tucked under his chin with no effort and her slight build clicked into his larger one like she had been made for him. Adrien didn’t want to release Marinette but he pulled away, drawing his arms away from her. With her own arms free, Mari leapt forward and threw her arms around his neck, to stop her from falling he wrapped his black clad arms around her waist. She pressed her cheek into his shoulder and inhaled against the high black collar at the neck of his suit, the feeling of her warm breath a hair's-breadth away from his skin sent a ripple of goose-flesh across his body. Lifting her off the ground, Adrien took a slightly shaking step and walked the two of them across to Mari’s daybed.

Twisting so Mari was on top of him as he crashed back onto the daybed. Marinette fell into a fit of adorable giggles as Chat let out a small ‘oof’ from impact. Putting her hands on either side of Chat’s head, Mari raised herself up and looked down at him. Her blue doe eyes shone with mirth and her perfectly shaped lips had formed a radiant smile around the hearty, sincere laugh leaving her body. Her long, thick lashes dusted the tops of her cheeks like soot as she blinked and tipped her head, the smile still on her bowed lips and aftershocks of her laugh still rocking her body.

“What’re you thinkin’ about, purr-incess?” Chat grinned up at her, the world faded away and the only thing that remained was the beautiful girl leaning over him. Her left leg was between his, both of her knees making gentle contact with the surface of the daybed. Her hips were settled over his abdomen with their stomachs pressed together, Adrien could feel the muscles in Marinette’s abdomen, a badge honouring the work she did as Ladybug even if she didn’t want it honoured herself. Her stomach was hard, though still softer than his, and her arms were lean, muscled, he could feel the concealed strength in her thighs too.

“You’re pretty,” Marinette blinked again and gave him a sweet smile. She could feel his heart thundering just like hers was thundering, praying to whatever was out there she hoped that he wouldn’t guess that she was incredibly nervous. This wasn’t what she’d planned to happen tonight but, to be honest, she hadn’t planned anything so hovering above Chat, looking at his beautiful masked faced and splayed golden hair seemed better than sitting in awkward silence. She’d never been in a position like this with a boy before, her cheeks started to heat as she remembered how inexperienced she was when it came to people in general. Her first kiss had been Adrien but she’d thought he was a wax statue and he’d turned her down shortly after so she didn’t really know if it counted.

“You’re pretty,” he breathed, cocking his head as his pupils blew incredibly wide. Balancing on one arm, Mari brushed a strand of his hair off his face, her fingertips lingering against the suntanned skin of his cheek.

“Am I?” She twisted the lock of hair around one of her fingers, the stainy strands separating like fraying silk.

“Very much so, princesa,” Chat braced his clawed hands on Marinette’s waist where the cotton singlet she was wearing rode up slightly. As if his suit knew what he was doing, the fabric covering his hands thinned until he could feel the gentle heat of her skin and the concealed strength finely corded beneath it. Looking up into her beautiful gaze, Adrien remembered the 14 year olds they’d been when they met and how much she’d changed in the past 3 years, at 17 she was more beautiful than the models he’d seen who had cultivated their beauty for longer than Adrien and Marinette had walked this earth.

“You’re very pretty too, Chaton,” Mari’s thumb brushed his ear as she lowered her hand back down beside his head. The glowing fairy lights of her balcony caught the glorious midnight strands of her hair as she tipped her head again, they cast shimmering haloes on the loosening hair held in pigtails by two red, cloth hair-ties.

“Why do you think I’m pretty?” He wanted to lean up toward her and press his lips to hers but he couldn’t take his eyes off her face, the proximity she had to him and the airbrushed perfection of her skin caused by the dim lighting around them. Marinette’s skin wasn’t the botoxed plastic or makeup caked skin he normally saw when he was this close to a girl, she was real and looked real. The freckles on her face were more abundant on her left cheek than her right, there was a small scar on the right side of her nose below her eye, she had a beauty mark high on her right cheek too, the fact that she was so imperfect was what made her perfect to him.

“Does the Chat need his ego stroked?” Mari stuck her tongue out at him and gave a cheeky chuckle. “I think you’re pretty because you’re kind,” She tangled her left hand into the long, silken strands of his hair. “Because you’re brave,” Her heart thundered harder. “You’re funny,” His heart synchronised with the rapid pace of Marinette’s. “You listen to me,” She lowered her head slightly, not really registering what she was doing. “You don’t think I’m clumsy, or silly, or annoying, and you make me feel indestructible.”

Without hesitation, Chat moved one of his hands to her hair and pulled the hair-ties out, sliding them onto his wrist one by one. Tangling his hand into her now loose hair, Adrien leaned up and kissed her.

Their lips didn’t move at first, only stayed pressed together but, in a matter of seconds, their eyes slid closed and they fell into an awkward rhythm. Neither Marinette nor Adrien had properly kissed anyone before so it took some time for them to find a steady, comfortable rhythm.

Marinette pulled away, her breathing hitched slightly and her cheeks glowing a stunning scarlet.

“Woah,” Adrien’s pupils had completely eclipsed the green of his iris.

“Woah indeed,” A shy smile crept across Mari’s face, so much more beautiful since he knew that he’d put it there. Adrien’s claw tipped hand was still twined into her hair, the thinness of his gloves allowing him indulge in the inky cascade that curtained them in a world of their own. “Have you done that before?”

“No, have you? You seem very good at it,” Marinette ducked her head slightly at the comment, causing the waterfall of hair to slide across his face and into his mouth. “Corazon, your hair is in my mouth.”

Mari pulled her head back up immediately and pulled her hair from Chat’s mouth. “I’m sorry,”

She brushed her fingers against his chin. “I haven’t really kissed anyone before. I-I don’t know if my first kiss even counts as a kiss.”

Adrien suddenly felt a raging jealousy begin to form in his heart. Someone had given her such a bad first kiss that she didn’t even register it as one, he was jealous that someone else had taken it but angry that they hadn’t made it good for her.

“Who was your first kiss?” He fought to keep his voice level. She turned away from him slightly.

“Uh...his name is Adrien Agreste,” Chat’s heart froze in his chest. He’d been her first kiss. His mind sloppily sorted back through every moment he’d had with Mari right back to the day he’d met her. The filing cabinet of his mind an absolute mess. “I don’t know if it counts as a first kiss because...well...because I thought he was a wax statue.”

It clicked in Adrien’s head. “He sounds like an idiot,” Marinette gave him small smile as he disentangled his hand from her hair.

“He is a bit of an idiot but he might grow out of it,” Mari sat up, still sitting on Chat’s abdomen and stretched. His hands were braced on the dip of her waist again, his thumbs brushing the skin. “I don’t think you’ll grow out of being an idiot though, Chaton.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever grow out of being beautiful, Corazon,” Marinette stuck her tongue out at him and flicked his nose. A chilly wind blew between them, causing Mari to shiver and wrap her cardigan around herself, covering his hands. “Let’s adjourn to your bedroom?”

“Don’t get any ideas, Chaton, my parents are downstairs and I have school tomorrow,” Adrien lifted Mari off him slightly and sat up. He moved his hands to hold the undersides of her thighs and stood in one swift motion, holding her to him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Fermosa,” With Marinette’s legs wrapped around his waist, Adrien used one of his hands to pull one of the doors leading into her room open and slip into the warmth inside. Waltzing over to Mari’s messily made bed, Chat gently squeezed her thighs earning a flick to his nose from the dark haired girl in his arms. He put her down on the covers and sat down beside her. “We both know that I am completely at your mercy, your wish is my command.”

“I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger, haven’t I?” Marinette placed her warm hand, the sleeve of her cardigan pulled over it slightly, on Adrien’s bare cheek and rubbed the stubbled skin of his neck.

“Oh, completely, princess, completely,” He leaned into her hand and settled back into her soft mattress.

“This is not the night I had planned,” Mari tucked her legs up underneath herself and tipped her head, her hair falling over her shoulder like shimmering silk.

“You had a night planned for us?” Adrien’s ears pricked up, she’d planned something! She’d planned to do something with him and she hadn’t even known if he was going to show!

“Not exactly, silly cat,” Mari reached behind her and grabbed one of her pillows, tucking it in her lap. “But I didn’t see myself...you know...kissing you.”

Adrien raised his eyebrows and smirked at her. “You’re welcome to do that again, Princess,” Mari pursed her lips at him. “When you look at me like that, it’s hard not to do it for you.”

“I….,” Marinette chewed her lip uncomfortably. “I have feelings for you, Chat, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea that I’m….”

“That you’re…?” Adrien heard his heartbeat in his ears as she admitted having feelings for him.

“That I just want to have sex or...use your fame for myself. I really like you, Chat, really really really like you...I-I think might love you, Chat Noir,” Marinette’s voice got ever quieter as she progressed through her admission. Adrien leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, cupping her face.

“I think I might love you too, Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Chat whispered against her mouth, resting his forehead against hers. “I think I have for a while.”

Mari covered his hand with her own and looked into his eyes with a sweet smile. “I think I started when you went cat-packing during the summer,”

“Cat-packing?” He understood the play on words but she’d thought this one though, he wanted to see her explain it so he could tell her how good it was.

“Like backpacking, but you’re a cat,” Marinette rubbed her nose against his.

“That’s a very clever pun, Miss Dupain-Cheng, I’m definitely going to have to use it some time,” He pressed his nose against hers slightly harder, the air between them combining.

“I would be honoured if you did,” She pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“I’ll tell any who ask that my girlfriend thought of it for me,” Mari pulled away suddenly and looked at him with the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen.

“Y-your girlfriend,” Adrien wasn’t sure if he’d fucked this up. Had he fucked up by calling her his girlfriend? She was wasn’t she? “I’m your girlfriend?”

“I mean, if you’d like to be,” Chat folded his hands in his lap and glanced at her, worried.

“Yes,”

“Yes?” Chat’s eyes met Mari’s, silver lined her eyes and threatened to burst down over her cheeks.

“I want to be your girlfriend,” Dropping the pillow, Mari crawled forward and settled herself comfortably in Chat’s lap. “If you’ll have me.”

“I would be incredibly lucky to have you,” Chat’s arms circled Mari’s frame and held her against his swiftly beating heart. She was his, he was hers, he couldn’t be luckier. “I couldn’t imagine a more incredible girl to call my own.”

Mari placed a gentle hand on Adrien’s chest and felt the raging of his heart beneath her palm. “I want to know who you are, Chat,” the words echoed in his ears like a song he hadn’t heard for much too long. “But right now isn’t the time.”

“When you’re ready, Mari, I’ll show you everything,” Adrien pressed a kiss to her head and inhaled the sweet orange blossom scent of her hair. “Your happiness is my first priority.”

“Thank you, Chat,” Mari rested her head against his neck, and nuzzled up under his chin. Maybe she was more catlike than he was. “That means a lot to me.”

“I know, Mari, I know,” Adrien squeezed her against him. “You’d best get to bed now, princesa, or you won’t be able to focus at school tomorrow and I would absolutely hate to be the one who caused that.”

Adrien maneuvered Mari and rested her back against the pillows, pulling her sheets up over her.

“This is the second time you’ve put me to bed, Kitty,” Marinette tucked her blankets underneath her arms.

“And it won’t be the last, Corazon,” Adrien pressed a kiss to Mari’s forehead. “Now sleep, you’ll see me soon.”

“H-how do I contact you, Chat? You can’t give me your civilian phone number until I’m ready to know you in person but I can’t not speak to you,” He pulled away and scanned the room, Adrien had two phones. Two phone numbers, one he used for his everyday life and the other was a back up. Seeing some paper and a few pens scattered on Marinette’s desk, Chat walked over and scribbled his back up number on a blank corner of her maths homework.

“I’m keeping this over here, princesa, and I’m going to hope that you wait until morning to contact me but I won’t be able to stop you if you don’t,” He added a small heart next to the neatly scribbled phone number and walked to the balcony doors. “Your lights are voice activated, right?”

“Yeah. Light, off,” The lights in Mari’s room flicked off, Chat opened the door and stepped outside. “Good night, Kitty.”

“Good night, mi corazon,” He blew her a kiss and closed the door behind him. His heart and head were so incredibly light that he felt as if he would blow away in the gentlest wind. Passing Alya and Nino sitting together on a rooftop, chatting and listening to music, Adrien decided to dally for a moment.

“How’d it go, man?” Nino asked when Adrien slid to sit beside him.

“I asked her out,” Alya’s head snapped to look at him immediately, her jaw hitting the floor. “She said yes.”

“Does that mean she knows who you are now?” Nino clapped Adrien on the back. “Congrats by the way.”

“Uh, no,”

“Excuse me, what?” Alya’s low voice cut through the dark night with incredible precision.

“She said that she’ll ask me to ‘unmask’ to her when she’d ready,” The murderous look on Alya’s face dissipated.

“Mari is a smart girl, I hope it doesn’t take long for her to ask,” Alya reached across Nino and gripped Adrien’s hand. “I’m happy for you, Adrien. I know that you’ll take good care of each other.”

“Thanks, Alya,” Nino placed his hand on top of Alya’s. “I’d best get home, I’m probably not going to be able to sleep tonight because of how excited I am from her saying yes.”

“By all means, man, go home,” Nino gently nudged Adrien with his shoulder. The blonde haired boy stood up and sketched a bow to his friends before bidding them goodbye and disappearing off into the night.

~~~~~~~

On opposite sides of Paris, a golden haired boy and a dark haired girl dreamt of each other. She didn’t understand why his mask kept slipping and showing a different golden haired boy who also held her affections. He dreamed of kissing her on a rooftop without their masks, with no walls between them and no more secrets to be kept.

~~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~~ @lady-charinette @katieykat513 @mochegato @nifflerstorm @maniic-pixie-dream-girl

DM to be tagged!

#miraculous fandom #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug #marichat #djwifi #carapace x rena rouge #carapace #rena rouge #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #one sided identity reveal #miraculous #tales of ladybug and cat noir

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pomegranate-belle · 4 years

Note

Fic or treat Murderdock and DA!Foggy sexytimes (if ur ok w writing that) if not the first time they meet please

So this is actually straight out of my Spider-Verse AU (bless you for forcing me to write it instead of just mindlessly daydream about it, lol) but I’m defs not posting explicit stuff on this blog so please have how these Slightly Bruised Avocados met!

The first thought through Matt Murdock’s head upon meeting Franklin Nelson was, how can I use him? This was not noteworthy. Indeed, it was the same thought he always had upon meeting someone new. And at their first meeting, there didn’t seem to actually be much use to Franklin. Oh, he might make for an amusing plaything, something for Matt to take out his irritation on — like an ant under a magnifying glass. But little more.

“Nice to meet you!” Franklin greeted with enough sweetness and sincerity to make Matt ill. “I’m Franklin Nelson. And you’re Matt Murdock, right?”

Matt made sure to smile his most disarming smile – to keep his fangs hidden, as it were, even though his instinct was to give his most menacing grin, just to see if Franklin’s heart would skip a beat in fear. But then Franklin’s heart skipped a beat for an entirely different reason, and Matt thought to himself – no might about it, Franklin would definitely make for an interesting plaything if Matt played his cards right.

“That’s right,” he said very gently, and held out a hand to save Franklin the irritating dithering that often preceded people trying to decide whether they should narrate their own offered hand or not.

They shook hands and chatted a little as Matt settled his belongings on his side of the dorm room. It was a little stifling, finding himself back in an environment where he had to play at being a normal, mild-mannered blind man. But it was good practice, he supposed. The Hand had dumped him in New York, and he needed to build up an unimpeachable persona if he wanted to keep suspicion off himself when he began dabbling in less-than-aboveboard work. And maybe it would be fun, he considered. An excuse to indulge in things the Hand generally disapproved of, without the risk of getting in too deep and going soft. It was ok to break rank as long as it was to keep your cover, after all.

“So, uh, so you said you lived in Japan for a while?” Franklin asked, tapping at something on his laptop. “What was that like?”

“It was… Interesting,” said Matt, trying on the bland little smile again. “I learned a lot over there. It was very structured; I think that was good for me.”

“Oh, man, I could never,” Franklin laughed, loud and unselfconscious in a way Matt just knew people tended to find either absolutely charming or wildly irritating. “I’ll try to keep my things out of your way, obviously, but I’m probably the messiest person you’ll ever meet.”

Matt tapped the frames of his glasses.

“Well, I suppose you won’t have to worry about me seeing your disorganization.”

There was a long pause. Much longer than the quip called for.

“Wait,” Franklin said. “Wait, you… Are you from New York originally?”

“Why do you ask?”

Caught off guard, Matt resorted to answering a question with a question. But. It was just… They couldn’t have known one another. They couldn’t have. Matt would have recognized Franklin, surely.

“It is you, isn’t it? I mean, I hadn’t thought about it in ages, but when I was a kid there was a story in the paper about a boy who went blind trying to tackle his mother out of the way of a truck. Matt Murdock. That was you.”

Matt hadn’t thought about that in years. So many of his memories eclipsed it in pain, so much of his life made that mundane, childish act of bravery feel like little more than a dream. Some days Matt forgot he had ever been anything but a soldier of the Hand. Forgot, mercifully, about Stick and his mother and his father and the orphanage. Forgot a time when he had dreams.

There was a strange tightness in his throat, Matt noticed idly. He had to take a few seconds to swallow past it, taking stock of the rest of his body to make sure he wasn’t experiencing a bizarre and unprecedented allergy attack.

“Yes,” he answered. “Yes, that was me.”

“Shit.” The word was muffled, by Franklin’s hands if the sound was any indication; but he removed them to continue speaking, to Matt rather than himself. “I… I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I just made the connection and. Ugh. Me and my big mouth.”

Matt laughed, though not as loud as he wanted to.

“It’s fine, really. It was a long time ago. You just surprised me, that’s all,” he told Franklin, amused despite himself. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Really…? You’re not just saying that?”

“Of course not,” Matt consoled him – it was annoying, but he supposed he needed the practice. “I meanit, it’s totally fine.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Franklin said warmly. “You know, I can tell already – you really are a good guy.” Matt had to work hard to hold back a scoff. “And you’re really, really good-looking, too, so you’re like basically the whole package.”

“Pardon?” Matt asked after a long pause, certain he’d heard wrong.

“I. I mean, I’m sure you’ll get a lot of, um, girls asking you out because of that.”

Franklin’s heartbeat stuttered and skipped as he backpedaled awkwardly, and Matt slipped. Just for a second, just the slightest bit, let his grin go sharp and predatory – but it wasn’t a complete misstep, if the whiff of arousal and the way Franklin’s heart sped up further was any indication. He would be an easy mark. No challenge at all, but definitely entertaining.

Franklin Nelson snored. Like a foghorn. Matt tried to put himself back in mind of his training – he’d been kept awake by constant harsh noise for days at a time to inoculate him against torture attempts. And yet somehow the chainsaw-like buzzing of his new roommate’s nasal passages, rising and falling unpredictably in pitch and intensity, made Matt look back on even that as a fond memory.

He contemplated once, twice, ten times just strangling Franklin and being done with it. But his own stubbornness wouldn’t let him. Bested, completely on accident, by a civilian with no formal training? The very thought was disgraceful.

More than that, Franklin was disgustingly nice about it. He insisted, without an ounce of hesitation, that Matt could smack him awake with a pillow if needed. He even took to ‘Foggy’ – the rude moniker Matt had thrown out one night two weeks in when his dedication to his demure persona wavered with sleep deprivation – gleefully, as though it were a fond and charming nickname and not the last spiteful words of sanity from a man mere inches from murder. He insisted on going by nothing else afterwards, and confessed to Matt that he had always hated his name because his abusive biological mother had given it to him. Again, Franklin – Foggy’s –affability turned Matt’s misstep into a positive. Which made Matt’s life infinitely easier, but he still hated it. The fact that he had slipped at all, that he kept losing control and letting his impulses rule him. It was like Foggy’s earnestness was rubbing off on him. Matt would have to distance himself, he decided at last. As entertaining as Foggy was, as much fun as Matt would have pushing him, it wasn’t worth it. And anyway, it wasn’t like Foggy was anything special, not really.

Foggy had a way of proving Matt wrong without even realizing he was doing it. It was a handful of days shy of a month after they first met that Matt and Foggy were assigned to debate one another in class. Matt had been all but certain of his victory. Foggy was too nice, too relaxed, too… Foggy. Matt breezed through his arguments, confident in an easy win and the inevitability of consoling his soft-hearted roommate after class. He’d need physical comforting, too – squeezing of hands and shoulders, a pat on the knee – Foggy was a very tactile person, and while most touching made Matt’s skin crawl, smelling someone else on Foggy made it crawl worse. Besides, Foggy never asked for more than Matt was willing to give him; in fact, he never asked for touch from Matt at all, though receiving it clearly comforted him. Matt was already planning it out in his head as he stepped back to let Foggy make his rebuttal.

Except as soon as he stepped up in front of the class, the niceness stopped. The softness stopped. Foggy rolled his shoulders once or twice like a warm-up, and then calmly and effortlessly dove into the most vicious rebuttal Matt had ever heard in his life. It was like he was picking up each of Matt’s points as he might an interesting rock, studying them, and then shredding them like tissue paper. There was even the tiniest hint of disdain in his voice. It wasn’t just impressive, it was thorough, merciless destruction.

Matt was almost glad there hadn’t been time for a counter-rebuttal. He couldn’t have spoken a word. His mouth had gone dry barely a minute in, and his heart pounded in his chest like a caged animal. He had to excuse himself immediately after class, brushing Foggy off as calmly as he could manage with some excuse about needing to use the restroom.

“Ok, buddy,” Foggy said, the bright cheerfulness back in his voice, no hint of the quiet malice of before. “I’ll see you back at the room, then? We’ve still gotta study for York’s quiz and I need all the help I can get.”

Do you, Matt thought a little hysterically, but he bottled that reaction like he did everything else. Just nodded, smiled, and made a beeline for the nearest empty bathroom. He stayed in there for almost ten minutes, letting cold water run down the sink drain and taking deep breaths between bouts of nearly-giddy laughter.

Foggy. Who would have thought? Suddenly, magnificently, Matt had found an intellectual equal. Foggy was brilliant. A hypnotic speaker with a memory like nothing Matt had ever witnessed before. And the truth was… The truth was, the more Matt thought about it, the more sense it made. Sure, he had layers of saccharine, earnest sweetness, but there had always been shards of something harder underneath. The way Foggy spoke about his biological mother, the way he calculated exactly how much effort to use for the grade he wanted and his refusal to expend anything more? Matt had discarded those things before as one-offs, but combined with Foggy’s performance in the debate, it pointed to someone with enough of a pragmatic streak that it would take only the barest effort to nudge him over into the darkness. To bring him onto Matt’s side, to make him more like Matt rather than the other way around. Better yet, Foggy was a man who desperately craved validation and companionship. A man that desperately wanted to be Matt’s friend. Someone easy to manipulate for all his intelligence. It would be ok, then, to get closer to him, because he was both exceedingly more useful than Matt had first realized and still controllable. Even the Hand wouldn’t be able to object to that. Matt would be able to keep Foggy. The thought was peculiarly thrilling.

What was less ideal was the hunger it inspired in his gut. The desire to possess, to own. For the most part, he slaked that urge well enough just by quietly exerting his control over Foggy, both privately and professionally, but it did little to quell his more... Subconscious appetites. But indulging that sort of thing, Matt knew, could only be a mistake. What he had with Foggy was beneficial without being a potential weak point, and he wanted to keep it that way.

#fic or treat #mattfoggy #matt murderdock #spider verse 2 daredevil boogaloo #god i love this fucking messed up idiot #get a clue dumbass you're in love with him already #Anonymous

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sassy-postal-shipper · 4 years

Text

Love Will Tear Us Apart - 2/12 - Did You Know?

Ship: Roman (Creativity)/Remus (Intrusive Thoughts)

Summary: Remus is often left alone and is wishing for someone to come be with him. He is only truly close to his brother Roman. He starts getting letters from a mysterious stranger, who professes love to him. The letters say many details that emphasize Remus’ beauty, but Remus starts thinking that the stranger wants Roman. As much as Remus wants to be in love, he wants to be with Roman just as much.What is the Duke to do?

Rating: M/Explicit

AO3 link if Tumblr doesn’t work

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Warnings: Evelyn Evelyn AU, Shapeshifting, Imagination, Yandere, Everyone is Yandere, Developed before POF, Animal Motifs, Every Side has an Animal

Love Will Tear Us Apart - Chapter 2 - Did You Know?

If there had been a time when they had been together, when they had been one person, neither body of Creativity could remember. They knew that, logically, there had been a time when Creativity had existed as one, what with the terms “good” and “bad” now separating them at the root of their lives.

That was what the Shield had said before he had disappeared into nothingness, at least nothing that they could recognize.

There were times when they wanted to go back to how they used to be, but they both remembered that they were so lonely. They could remember their hands - only two! - shaping the canvas and clay of Imagination into a fine castle, their Dream, and Thomas had just been blooming into a creative force in the world.

They could remember what happened afterward, when they split apart and they became Two. Remus’s hair had not yet turned white, and Roman’s voice had yet to gain the royal timbre that it had when Thomas was older.

That’s when Loneliness became familiar.

While Thomas was able to perform with Roman guiding him, Remus was set to take some control over Thomas’ dreams when the world was asleep. Remus had almost complete reign over dreams. There were nonsensical trails that Thomas would go down, eventually getting trapped or becoming too frightened. Remus was attentive, going to find Thomas and showing him how to beat all the traps that Remus had inadvertently created while letting himself go freely while his brother was busy during the day.

Thomas didn’t always lean into him, but when Thomas would relax, he would ask Remus for a piggy-back ride. If Remus would tell the truth without embellishing it with unnecessary details, he would tell Roman of how wonderfully delightful it was to have the sensation of Thomas’ little puffs of breath on the back of his neck, little arms loose and limp around his neck.

Thomas was beauty, wonder, light, and every wonderful sensation that Remus had been able to feel. The feel of stepping onto sunlit grass were Thomas’ fingertips that occasionally played with Remus’ hair before he went to sleep. Remus would do anything for him - eviscerate himself, kill the boy down the road who ripped up one of Thomas and Roman’s pictures, make him sing something inappropriate as long as he could until he got what he wanted.

However, Thomas began to grow further away from Remus. Instead of Thomas finding beauty in what others could find horrifying, knowing that it was better to steer away from certain things than just avoid it at all, Thomas pushed Remus away. He no longer dared to go down the paths that Remus had worked on. He would no longer touch the delicate horrors that Remus had bled over to create visions of Fear that Thomas could grow from.

The Guard had begun to lead Thomas away from the hidden crevices in the Imagination, multiple eyes that were vigilant and wary. When Care began to push Remus back, to make sure that Thomas and Roman sat at the front of the Imagination’s garden, Roman pulled him to sit next to Thomas. They both loved him; why would Remus stay away.

It was different when Thomas was alone, though.

Alone, and only with the Guard, Thomas always ran away now whenever he sensed Remus near, and gone was the boy precious child sunshine sweetling bubbly beauty that was the only other creature aside from Roman that Remus had loved.

Roman would come to comfort him at night, the gentle dim Sunlight that Remus would reflect back to his brother in measured bursts of Moonlight. He would show Remus everything that Thomas did that day, and even Remus’ influence couldn’t be ignored.

Thomas could imagine dragons and spiders, scary snakes and evil witches. Oh! - even if all of Remus’ influence was bad, Thomas was enjoying himself and making new things in the Imagination; and because of this, Remus never minded that Thomas found him scary or bad, as long as he was able to be helpful to his boy. Remus still saved Thomas from nightmares, after all.

Sometimes, there were tales among the Sides and the Others of an eclipse, where for an instant, the Creativity-that-was would return, and Thomas would be in awe. Usually at night, because the world couldn’t witness it, but Remus and Roman would disappear, and the King would return, ready to rule over his Kingdom within Imagination, and Loneliness no longer existed.

Remus never remembered those times, though.

Roman couldn’t remember them either or so Remus recalled him saying , and as Thomas grew, Remus was banished further into the darkness of Imagination, Roman having to travel further every night to make sure his brother was doing well.

They didn’t know how much time had passed; the Imagination was whimsical when it came to time, and they didn’t always have a way to keep track of time here and in Thomas’ world.

What they did know was that the eclipses were far and few, and Remus was getting lost in the Loneliness that came with the Imagination, a sense of disconnect that was only getting worse in Remus, no matter how many stories Roman told to keep away the awful feelings.

On this night, Remus was waiting for his brother. The stars lit up the beaten path that had grown again by feet, meters, lengths, or fathoms and that would bring Roman back to him.

How long had they existed? Roman had become a Prince to rule over their kingdom in Imagination well, devoted to their people and always ready to answer the call to adventure that Imagination would create at Thomas’ will or even its own volition. The Creativity was a volatile and unpredictable thing; it had given life to Roman and Remus both, after all.

Remus had become a ruler without responsibility. Remus had become a Duke who could attend to all the small things that Roman could not see. Remus had a much more in-depth insight into the Little People’s lives, one that Roman couldn’t envision; those were the limitations of Creativity on a grander scale, but Remus was in charge of nitty-gritty details that often would break a story without Suspension of Disbelief.

“No hair to climb, but nevertheless the sight granted to me, sublime~”

Remus sat up, spying his brother in the moonlight. Roman stared back at him from the doorway, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders like one of their capes. Roman waved to the bed, and Remus obeyed as he always did when he had his usual stint of nightmares and Loneliness. As Roman came close, the scent of cinnamon and sugar accompanying him with the noxious scent of roses, Remus felt his body tremble, his skin undergoing a chill that made goose-flesh creep and take over his flesh.

“Come.”

“I will.”

Roman climbed into bed, the glide of their clothed legs smooth and warm. The blanket around his shoulders was a fire over Remus’ body, warm and all-encompassing.

“That was awful.”

“It’s late and I’m tired. I don’t mind.”

They settled onto each other. Remus moved his legs like clockwork, Roman letting one leg of his fall between Remus’ legs and the other out to trap one of Remus’ legs between his own. Roman rested his head over where a human heart would be if they were human; instead, the grinding sound of a ratchet was heard, clicking and ticking in a way that made Roman shudder.

“Scared?”

“You’re here. Why would I be scared?”

Roman sighed as Remus threaded his fingers through the Prince’s hair. Soft and silky, clean and smooth - these were the sensations that Remus associated with Roman’s energy and power. Roman was powerful and careful, every motion precise and easy.

Remus could destroy the world under his fingers just with a simple wave of his hand, destroying anything he would want to create. Roman would disagree, his own ticking heart steadfast in his chest.

“When did we meet last?”

“That doesn’t matter, really…”

No, it didn’t.

Being a part of Creativity was amazing. Roman had his Kingdom. ‘Twas a metropolis that was interwoven into the fringes of Remus’ Domain. Both areas had inspiration from the gallantry of King Arthur’s tales, the houses and kingdoms of wisdom of fictional Arabia (Agrabah not being a subtle influence), and even the futuristic realms influenced by Japanese films and anime. There was always something to gain their interest; if not, they could just Create it!

There was an order maintained, as the Imagination populated itself with villagers, city-goers, and those who maintained their position in the Imagination by performing tasks that Thomas had imagined essential in any fantasy setting, classic or unorthodox. All of the characters that Thomas had created for his videos and Vines were here as well. Remy and Emil even lived in the area of the metropolis that was more modern when compared to the rest of the fantasy world.

Magicians, law-men, villains, and healers - there was nothing that the Imagination didn’t offer!

Roman and Remus would find each other at night, ready to Create dreams that Thomas could indulge in, and now that Thomas was an adult and he had learnt of Remus, they could have even more freedom!

Thomas didn’t enjoy everything that Remus Created, but Thomas would be loath to say that he hated some of the dreams that came at night. Ghostly hands that worshiped his body and lips that sang litanies to Thomas, because Thomas had no lover there to press himself against; oh, Remus had fun Creating dashing rogues and handsome princes that he could entice into his bed, ones that would worship the darker side of Creativity!

Roman would observe occasionally, a cursory glance from the Passionate light of Creativity. Sometimes, Roman would send someone to Remus, letting his brother indulge in a lover that was something else. Roman never engaged in those types of fantasies, ones that were rooted only in the flesh. Roman appreciated the beauty but he never indulged in the dreams; he was waiting for Thomas to find someone, and they would all be happy then.

Surely, when they wouldn’t have to sleep alone again...

As Remus settled to rest with Roman, he listened to Roman talk about how cross he was.

“What?”

“A morning-star. To the head!” Roman pouted, pressing his pursed lips to Remus’ forehead. It was a closed-off kiss, and it didn’t matter; Roman had never closed off his heart to Remus though he had certainly earned the right to close Remus off in the past .

“But I wanted to surprise you!”

“... Did it have to hurt like that?” Roman pulled away, looking at Remus’ eyes. They were looking for something that Remus didn’t know if he could even emote! Before Remus could argue, Roman pressed him down into the mattress.

Remus might be cursed with hard-hitting truths as a large part of his speech, but his body enjoyed the softness of a down-filled mattress. It was on top of the much firmer, much more modern mattress that Mom had gotten Thomas too many years ago to matter, but it let Roman push Remus into the plush without suffering the harshness underneath. Even as Roman scowled down at him, Remus bit his lip to keep from moaning at the softness beneath him.

“You need to let Thomas call you from now on.”

Remus blinked up at his brother. “Do you think he will?”

He tried not to sound excited by the idea that Thomas his boy his light his love his very God that commanded and demanded Remus into being back when the boy didn’t realize the exceptional potential that he had hidden away in that little body would actually ask for Remus’s input, but Roman saw right through him. Roman smiled down at the lesser-titled brother that was filthy disgusting dull evil and pressed a kiss to the center of Remus’ forehead.

“Of course he will, my dear. You know,” Roman began, settling down to rest on Remus’ chest, “he’s nervous, but he’s a bit more excited now. I told him that you made him have those… more sultry dreams, and he is intrigued! It’ll be wonderful, dear, I promise you!”

With that, Roman settled into the wondrous world of sleep, body limp and chthonic with the ethereal light of a yellow star still burning bright from him. It dared to harm Remus, but Remus had never been averse to pain.

Oh, Remus could smell Roman’s hair. It smelt nauseatingly disgusting; for sunshine and butterflies, the blood of a freshly conquered foe, and the scent of begonias. Remus, on the nights when he would lay on Roman’s chest, would be burning brighter than the corona of the eclipse. His hands would wander down, the tentacles that his body had stroking the animalistic features that Roman couldn’t hide while he was asleep, dreaming. It was the one time that Remus had ever entertained the notion that Roman could be a fraction of a monster like he was. It was everything that Remus could ever desire from his brother.

Thomas would get rest tonight, especially after Remus’ fantasies had gone awry the night before. He didn’t know why they wandered down that path, but Remus was never one to look away from the prospect of any kind of entertainment.

Roman’s arms tightened around Remus’ waist, the Prince humming some strange tune as Remus fell into sleep as well.

#roman sanders #remus sanders #remrom #fic - LWTUA #mature fic #a notecard fic #thomathy sanders

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blogmollylane · 4 years

Text

Extract from a much larger project

So this is part of something I hope to work into a much longer piece and I am interested to hear what people think. Please be nice, I think the internet has enough negativity already, lets not add to it.

The Tale of Kindred Sprits

Oblique osiria roses, in hues of silver-white and scarlet-red, encased in suspended bird cages above the reflecting pool. Sporadically roses had escaped their pendant confinements. These lucky ones had wound themselves serpentine around their former prisons, climbing the shackles in defiance. Surrounded by vaulted windows admitting in the last evanescent rays of the setting sun, there Tristian sat by the pool’s edge. Basking in the private serenity of the rotunda’s current kenopsia as sparrows’ euphonious serenades kept him company. Such a rare indulgence to savour in.

Exhaling, he let go another lungful of smoke, watching the grey wraiths waltz in obscure patterns before fading away. Only the rich oaky tang of its brief existence lingers in the floral air. Eying the fallen petals drifting on the still waters, he mused if like constellations, they too delivered prophecies. Their positions, giving inklings to the mysteries Providence like the lines on his palms. Perhaps if better skilled in the art of deviation, Fate’s past designs could have been descried ahead of tragedy striking.

Fingers swept back strands of silver hair from his face; he took in the left eye. Once there was a perfect carbon copy of its right-side twin, another bright sapphire iris. Now a pitch-black pit encircled by raw, angry scars stared back.

Enough tears were shed in the bloody aftermath of the mutilation. Ravenous wrath lived within him, binding it’s time for vengeance. Tristian acknowledged its rising presence, but held it back fast, never losing grip. Rage yield, remained patient and sharpened talons in preparation. The perpetrator may be roaming freely in the Diamond’s hall, their leverage sitting pretty for now. What seethed beneath Tristian’s skin, ardent in his veins, volatile in his soul was what drove him. Their eventual ruin would be worthwhile and wrath will have its feast.

Glass doors swung open. Startled birds flew from their perches and footfalls click-clacked on the ivory-ebony chequered floor. Lady Delacroix. Her trembling fists were clenched so horribly tight, her nails left behind miniature crescent scars and gained fresh scarlet specks underneath. Her long eyelashes brim tears yearning to break free, racing to the edge. Head hung low, flaxen curls ragged. Wisps of baby’s breaths woven into her loose braids drooping over.

Most people never took heed of these tiniest details. If they did, they left her in the hollow loneliness to put her self back together. Jagged puzzle pieces that didn’t fit, acting as daggers that pierced her unhealed heart, too alien to recognize shards of their former selves. Walls, meticulously built and exhaustedly rebuilt, in danger of collapsing again. Crumbling bricks already bearing the wear of prior takedowns. Sandcastles had better resistance. Moisture spring from her eyes, but crying was not a healthy release. Crying was a filthy habit and she didn’t want another relapse.

But Tristian caught sight of her a pigment of sorrow, a rosy glow exchange for red splotches. He didn’t know why he did it at that particular moment. Out of sympathy was the original hypothesis. He calls her by name, but not her real name. The name that was her purported birthright, but wasn’t truly hers. Followed by a stupid question.

“Lady Delacroix. Lady Delacroix, are you alright?”

Shoulders sagged, she picks up the pace.

“Erica?”

She halts, surprised. Discreetly wipes away a lone tear that had eluded her defences before gyrating around. Crooked her lips into a small, frail smile accessorized with verdure orbs that have banished their original sparkle.

“Yes, your Highness?”

“Are you alright? You seem upset.”

The automatic lie of “Oh no, I’m fine” slipped out.

Tristian frowned, inhaling fresh nicotine. His right eye, a lone spotlight fixated on her. This acute opia coerced that mastered grin a little too wide, glued two female feet to the floor. Far worse than the blinding journalistic flashlights; they were searching for faults. Erica couldn’t fathom what Tristian was looking for.

He came closer. Too close, far too close. Close enough for her to smell dried ink, ember and mint off him. Fingernails dig deeper. “You sure?”

“I... just needed a breather that’s all. It’s so stifling here this evening.”

Please let me go.

“I imagine that one so used to the wide open spaces that your old home back in Pyrite had to offer, you are still getting use to the confines of the Diamond.”

Actually, I left one cage to enter into another.

“Indeed,” Erica swallowed, “At least, we are safe here up in the clouds. That was your father’s initial intentions when he first drew up plans for its construction after the deaths of his brothers and your grandfather.”

“My father is not a practical man, Erica. He chooses style above substance. The Diamond’s main purpose is to be a personification of his powers first and foremost, a permanent grand exhibition celebrating his glorious eminency second. He did not want the royal residence to share the same ground as the common folk. Safety was not on top of his priorities. Image was.”

“You called me Erica again.”

“I think we can lessen the formalities in private, don’t you?”

Erica found it strange No one really pays attention to what she had to say regardless of content. Her voice was radio silence, background noise, insignificant...

“I should go. The evening star will arrive soon. Apologies for disturbing you.”

“No need to act contrite Erica.” He leaned in, “But if something has-“

“It hasn’t!”

A hard sigh and a mumbled sorry for the snap interruption. Obscure the splinter of the warring tempest below. Guilt rotting inside, its oxidization pricking beneath her unblemished skin. One of the many same old unresolved feelings piling up for years now. She didn’t mean it.

“I’m fine, really, I am.”

“Do I scare you Erica?”

“No.” Lies persisted on tumbling out. He didn’t believe her, of course. Let’s tell a rueful half truth then. “A... little,” she barely whispered, rich teal heels becoming fascinating.

“And what is it that terrifies you?”

“I don’t know what’s in your mind. I get the impression that-“she falter, vacillation halted any finished sentence transpiring, afraid of probable costs, rummaging around for safe words. “That there’s something that aggravates you, pestering at you, gnawing at you. You haven’t found the resolution yet. You believe that you have taken precautions, making a friend of it. But it wants to break free and when it does...”

Sparrows suppress their breath; no sing-song alleviated this silence. Faintest of changes in Erica’s heartbeat, at a higher volume than typical. Tristian contemplated on her words. Billowing cigarette smoke clouded his face, never phasing, masking his cerebral interior. Eyebrows narrowed intently as he gazed back up to the pensile art structure with its florid coils, as if asking it for advice.

“May I ask how you came up with that observation?” he finally said.

“Depends on how you will take it... Tristian.”

“I’m tougher than I look, Erica. Comes with the media saturated territory. I’m interested to hear your findings on me.”

“Well, if you say so,” she paused slightly before resuming, “Whenever we’re in the same room, you seem irate to be there with no proven cause. I don’t know if it’s my doing or just merely my presence that unnerves you.”

Tristian’s feature’s softened. “Erica, I don’t hate you if that is what you are assuming.”

“I wasn’t!” she panicked that he could interpret her thoughts superior to her own translation to his, unpleasant heat rising in her cheeks.

Erica had always preferred the comfort of what the stars pinpointed to, not ellipsism. That’s what terrified her most about Tristian, and to a much larger extent panoptical strangers. Their inauspicious indefiniteness, difficult to decipher unlike the movements of clinquant nocturnal auroras.

This decoding into the conundrum that was Tristian was convoluted even more when a masculine amused chuckle caused her to return her focus on the suedette fabric of her shoes. Perplexment conflated with discomfiture on her face. She stole a peep, purloining a faint smile from the spare, a concise vision far removed from the usual sullen presence.

“What is so funny?”

“Apologies Erica. I didn’t mean to be unkind. I am also sorry to have given you that impression. It was not intentional. Perhaps, we should have gotten better acquainted on our own terms before forming such opinions.”

“Then what do you think of me?”

“Of you?”

“I gave you my thoughts. Only fair if you give me yours.”

Tristian took another deep meditative drag. Erica was looking up at him, a bit braver now, waiting patiently for an answer. He studied her for a prolonged moment.

“You’re made of sunshine Erica. When people try to eclipse that radiance, you somehow find a way to let it shine through. An admirable trait to have.”

Quite the compliment to receive. Blinking eyes search for mistruths which turned out to be a fruitless endeavour. Mouth slightly tugs at the corners, almost curves upwards. Unsteady heat warms the back of her neck, escalating in her cheeks. Still found it hard to believe. Nonetheless, found her hollow self filled with warmth and flickers of light. She murmured thanks, for that was the polite thing to do, deciding it was best to leave it at that.

Thank you for reading.

#my writing #extract #fiction #romance #fairytale #writers on tumblr #and now for something completely different #kingdom #blushing #falling in love #fantasy #decopunk

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gcrifin · 5 years

Text

@autumnswordsman chirped 🦅🎉🎵 ;

A carnival, undoubtedly nowhere near the calibre as the ones of her home island, but a festivity worth celebrating nonetheless, was in full swing, and without thinking much of it —smiling as music and colors and lights drowned out the world until it was a swirl of merriment and laughter, Zoro turns and catches a whirlwind of blonde and gold spinning his way from an impromptu dance. He steadies her with a warm embrace, mirth quiet as they swayed in time to the liveliness surrounding them. Granting her this little reprieve from travelling was the least he could do, and after a moment he hoists Lulubelle up by the waist and all but tosses her over to the large float in the middle of the street, his own laughter drowned out by the cheers.

Fascination in celebration was one born of blossoming tradition in which she was but one of many young founding faces. The hope in living, the will of which had been so unstoppable in force it burst into vibrant life unforeseen. No matter the place in which that determination was planted, often it seemed capable of growing in even the most dismal of places. Such had been the creation of that beautiful culture, the picturesque island of dreams where life was a party and every day was to be revered as the present. Living was the greatest gift to ever be given to mankind. To go a day without feeling blessed to still be alive was simply not a day at all .

Everywhere did that revelry vary. Carnivals and fairs of a large scale, the smaller parties and get togethers a more personal way to enjoy the things bestowed upon them. Even the variation among the processes and ideals upon which they chose to decorate and present were all unique ways to show appreciation for the opportunities given to continue day by day. It was simply impossible for Lulubelle to dislike a single one. Upscale or humble, bright or simple, every passing event was one with purpose and reason. She enjoys each with the warm mirth of home, avid movement, hearty laughter, and all .

Rarer still is this opportunity, possessing the company in which carefree albeit naturally graceful nature is so openly shown. Never would the chance to enjoy that moment be left behind, a fancied twirl of movement once thought to be concluded with a flourish and continued laughter as was all but common throughout the event. She hadn’t truly the moment to expose such earnest routine until now before him. A brief thought of opinion, perhaps of contentment of one’s personal development into being honest with oneself in entirety. This was the sort of joy she found herself robbed of in plight, a personal stone upon which was carried despite how low it kept spirits out of a self-depreciating habit. But it was long since that hands had let go of that burden. There was happiness deserved in the bliss that had not once truly left a deadly, elegant form. Even in times of strife there was room to be honest, to live and to celebrate without plaster and ceramics adorning face. She wonders again, images of possibilities to what degree he might hold that newfound spirit, the end result of sudden choreography soon upon them .

Steadied figure embosomed, welcomed in form with all the comfort of a dimmed sunset. It is not the display upon which perhaps she might impress him, but the unexpected had never always translated to the unaccepted. Laughter melts into smiles and merriment flutters gentle in chest awaiting the time to resurface. How wrong it would be to say the blonde did not take a measure of fondness from the gesture. Arms flung to back, loose wrists and grip so easy to slip away yet so hesitant to ever do so. The urge to lock them in place is hushed in the moment hands find their way gripped tight to waistline. Blink of lashes, a turn amidst a roaring crowd as feet take off from the ground in a false start .

Hitched breath in place of inquiry which had every intention of speaking up but chokes back beneath the boisterous noise. A dip of nerves as Lulubelle’s body is cast nonchalant from his embrace and off into the highlight of the parade. A less than refined landing, collapsing onto side with an audible thump of frame that presents no pain but a blooming embarrassment as she stands back up. Hundreds of eyes upon the shapes and clouds of moving parts of the float now find themselves directed at her, the deafening joy only growing louder given naught but her presence as an addition. Attention cast back to the familiar pop of green still up towards the front, taking but a step or two towards the opposing end of the attraction .

❝ Wait, Zoro! You’re going to get left behind if you don’t ── !! ❞

Hesitation in words in favor of the waiting audience now taken over by the impromptu appearance of a woman. A show it seemed, not a one against the change. Green eyes pan across the entirety of the crowd ahead and behind, rethinking the decision to jump down and return to the one that had given her this moment of respite from reality. It was this moment that had been given to her to finish that which had been interrupted in caress. Instinct brought up from back home takes center stage and pulls her atop the moving parts as if naturally instructed to be a part of the attraction from the get-go, arms cast up and back in that ending flourish as cape and blonde tresses whip in kind. Between that second and the ones prior fingers had swiftly pulled loose the band which had done so dutiful a job to keep hair in check. Upon arrival to the final step within the dead center of the float she stands, locks cast in a spinning flair as they flay loose from braid and ponytail. Each and every one clings together into large, waving beams of gold as they splay across a backdrop of gaudily painted white clouds. A lion’s mane upon a lioness, the glittering shine of sunbeams caught illuminated by the fading envious light hung in the sky .

For a moment ─ that oh so brief moment ─ Lulubelle becomes the sun .

Hair settles into a mess of waves and crimps as the cheering grows ever louder than she could have ever hoped to hear. Eyes shut in both exhilaration and nervousness, arms stay spread aloft for some time before finally coming to rest again at her sides. Countless thoughts rush through a head brimming with bliss beneath the roar of people insatiable on but a single display from the mysterious star. Heavy breaths taken slowly through the nose, living within that time for as long as they would indulge her. It all comes to a head as things begin to slow again, thoughts coming together at the affectionate reminder of the one who had placed her there to begin with .

The crowd would inevitably consume Zoro. Of that she had little doubt, as was evidenced by a long standing history of improper direction. How much of that display he had seen was up to chance. But even if only a sliver, something that showed that the actions taken to allowed such a thing to happen were worthwhile, it would truly pen that event forever into cherished memories. She could only hope that it had been witnessed in its entirety .

At least then it might make more sense later on when she would meet him again, crashing suddenly upon his form with all the heartfelt gratitude of a solar eclipse .

#|| aaaAAA #I have been crying in the club over this for two weeks #HELP.#MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT.#LOOK AT HER. SHE'S SO HAPPY.#I'M!!!!#I'M CRY......#this is so blessed I might truly expire right here and right now.#please bury me in satin and blue roses... ||#//﹡♕ we share knowledge in steps and rhythm. ﹙ answer.﹚#//﹡♕ the world is a party and life a gift. ﹙ ic.﹚#autumnswordsman #//﹡♕ have another drink with me; here’s to the adventure of a lifetime﹙ zoro / autumnswordsman. ﹚#//﹡♕ too much to say. ﹙ long post. ﹚

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