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megalony · 4 years

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Hearts and Crosses

This is a King! Ben Hardy and Queen! Reader AU I’ve started that should have a few parts to it hopefully, it’s based on a Wonderland theme with ideas inspired by the book Heartless. I hope you all like it, feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Ben Hardy masterlist

Summary: King! Ben is invited to a Queen’s ball and his father wants him to form an alliance with the Queen, but Ben doesn’t like the reputation she has, but he can’t help but get dangerously close to her.

Enjoy.

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"I have to look perfect!" The words roared from her lips like a lion attempting to scare its prey but her scream rattled through the other three women's ears like a high pitched whine of a child needing attention.

This was not just a screech of attention, this was far more than a child needing to look their best for a family dinner. This was a girl needing to impress- no, more than impress. This was a girl who needed to entrance, to lock the people into her image, to dazzle them with the only thing she had that would completely mesmerise them. Her attire.

The clicking heel of the tight but perfectly fitting shoe on her right foot clashed against the slick black tile beneath her foot. It rattled the floor and bounced vibrations along the walls in a masterful attempt to show authority which was newly gained by her. The fists of her gloved hands smashed into the vanity that was resting in front of her causing the makeup items to scatter and fall like trembling towers being broken. A tube of lipstick rattled and rolled on its side as if it had been shot down. A vile of mascara quivered and lolled to either side like a bowling pin debating whether it really wanted to fall down or not.

Three pairs of eyes focused on the girl who was almost sobbing for what she was most desperate to have as her fisted hand moved to grasp the very tip of the sparkling grey outline of the mirror on the vanity. She tipped the vanity towards her so the three maids with her could see how her eyes scrutinised the reflection she was faced with. The reflection was almost flawless- almost.

But it had to be perfect, no one would settle for less.

"Fix it!" There was no roar that screamed the words in the ears of the frightened maids who were more stone statues than useful help. All of them were afraid one foot on the wrong tile would lose them their most favoured jobs.

The three women who were varied in age and complexion stared at one another in the same desperation as their Queen stood in front of them. Someone had to move, someone had to take the risk of landing on the wrong tile and fix whatever mistake the Queen had seen. She needed to be perfect, she needed to be flawless and dazzling and eye catching and these three women were here to do that. It was their job and if they didn't do this then they would be losing their jobs and so much more.

The youngest of the three maids felt a bolt of courage spark to life in her system which pushed her feet to move. The flat pale pink slipper-like shoes clad on her clammy feet scuffed against the floor to get her within reach of the girl who held more authority than anyone else in the land. Her small brown eyes seemed to widen as she looked over the Queen to find something to perfect but she could find nothing wrong. There was no smear of lipstick, no eyelash that wasn't flicked up at the end or covered in black paint. There were colours over her eyelids, added complexion to her cheeks and powder to her skin.

What was there to fix?

The young maid whose name was only known to her peers standing in fright behind her gestured her hand to the power of authority in front of her in a silent plea for her to sit down so her makeup could be perfected in a way that would either win or lose the maid her job.

A forced breath passed through (Y/n)'s nose as she slowly and carefully sat in the chair as not to ruin the dress she was in. Her chin tilted upward which gave the image of power and control as her straightened hair sat delicately behind her ears. She had little time to be perfected but it had to happen. She would not be seen as anything but perfect.

The maid reached a trembling hand out for the raven black lipstick that was resting on the vanity. Her knees bent forward to allow her minimal height to shrink that little bit more so she was level with (Y/n) who looked seething. Her eyes, though capturing and absolutely stunning, were burning with a fire and pain that no one had ever witnessed before. Her body was trembling like a bird cage that was being rattled as her cheeks were puffed out from both the air she was holding in her mouth and the muscles that were tensed and pushing outwards.

Such a look of fright had never entered the maid's eyes or become plastered to her face until that very moment (Y/n) wrapped her slim, gloved fingers around the maid's wrist, stopping the tip of the lipstick a mere inch before it touched her skin.

"Perfect." The word was whispered with a spoonful of honey but it charged through gritted teeth which broke the tone it was spoken in and gave a hint of vengeance if this did not work out in (Y/n)'s favour. Did the maid really want to take such a gamble? Her idea was not ordinary which on any other day would have been a perfect idea, but today was special. This was a day that had to go well and if one single person or thing put a toe out of line, they would pay for it. (Y/n) had to look demandingly beautiful but with a look of effortlessness about it.

Three, painfully long minutes was all the young maid needed to do her utmost best to make the Queen look majestic.

No one moved or shivered or even dared to let a breath pass through their lips or nose as they waited for the reaction from their newly appointed Queen. Her head turned so slowly to the right to allow her eyes to set on the vanity mirror that would reveal her look and seal the fate of the maid who tried to perfect her.

One exact minute passed as the Queen looked over her perfected look before a grin the Cheshire cat would have been envious of spread on her glossy lips. That smile was all they needed to see to know that the maid was no longer just a maid. She was no longer a servant whose name was unknown to people who held power. She was the maid who had made the Queen smile, who had made her look as perfect as everyone would imagine her to be.

Now the evening could begin.

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"The Queen? I'm supposed to try and get close to the Queen, you cannot be serious?"

Ben adjusted the cuff links on his shirt cuffs to make sure they were properly pinned in place as his eyes kept sneaking glances up at his father who stood with a smile that was faultless, something Ben seemed to have inherited from him. The cuff links snapped perfectly into place and now, as Ben stared at them, he could see the reason why he had a blood-red heart and a black spade as cuff links.

They were playing card suits to impress the Queen.

He had not travelled all this way to the land of Chess to impress the Queen, he was not here to win what little heart she had left and secure himself a right to her throne when he already had a throne back home. He didn't desire the throne he had, there was no reason for him to pursue the Queen of Chess. Ben didn't even know this was their destination until this morning, but now it made sense. His father had gotten them an invitation to the ball thrown in the Queen's honour since she recently had her coronation, and now Ben was supposed to charm his way into her heart.

"She's new to the throne, she needs all the allies she can get and what better way to ally ourselves with the foreign lands than to get close to the Queen? This whole realm is under her command, think of the opportunities that could give. You only need to charm her, Ben, she's impressionable and young, she'll be easy to impress."

"I don't want or need friends in high places and I do not want to be friends with a Queen who is rumoured to be insane. I think that would be the kind of ally we do not need, father."

Ben would go to the ball tonight because he had been invited and he had made the journey here, it would be such a waste to hide away in his room now and not turn up, not to mention how rude it would be. But he didn't fancy charming the Queen who was unstable by all accounts he had heard. Allies were all well and good until they turned on their own and Ben hadn't heard the best things about this Queen. She seemed to be fine on her own, she didn't need Ben charming her or trying to get in her good books.

"Trust me, a Queen as powerful as this is one we need on our side, quite possibly in our family. Just talk to her, try to be friendly and she'll be as sweet as butter. Now let's leave before we're late."

Ben waited until his father turned around so he could roll his eyes before he followed his elder out of the room and through the mansion they were staying in for the week.

A feeling of relief swept through Ben when his eyes clocked onto Samuel, one of the servants who was more of a brother to Ben than a friend or a servant. He headed over to his friend whilst still making sure to head out to the carriage waiting to take them to the palace. Ben wasn't one for balls or big events, he wasn't so keen on dancing and it was normally a rather dull night with him sat in a corner with a bottle of wine by his side.

Even his own coronation last year due to his mother's untimely death hadn't been all that fun for him like it was for everyone else.

"Do you know anything about the Queen?" If Ben knew Samuel enough, he could count on the brunette gathering any and all information just in case Ben needed any help or advice. Samuel liked to be in the loop and have all the knowledge he could, he liked being the one of wisdom and it made him feel important and able to spread reliable gossip which was essential in any palace.

Once seated in the carriage, Ben leaned his elbow on the door, pressing his hand to his lips as his eyes darted to look at Samuel who was sitting next to him with Ben's father sat opposite.

"She's twenty, she's powerful and she knows it, she's got more authority than any other realm in the world. When she came to the throne she fired every single member of her staff and hired a whole new household. A lot of people think she's unstable but around here that's something of a normality I think..."

"What?" Ben didn't mean to snap but he could see the way Samuel was looking at him, it was like he was holding something back because he didn't know how Ben would react or what he would say.

"She... she's the first royal in over a hundred years to bring back the death sentence."

Ben's lips twitched up at the corners like he was going to smile and wait for the punchline of a joke, but the punchline never came and his mouth fell agape but no words left his lips. No one in any of the realms had ever given a death sentence in over a hundred years, it was abolished because it was cruel and inhuman. How could a twenty year old girl bring it back when she's been on the throne for less than a year? Why would she bring it back?

"W-why? She has to be unhinged to do that... so, what, she's just brought the punishment back so it's legal now?"

"No, she... she didn't exactly make it legal or a proper punishment, she brought someone into her own court and didn't like the sentence of prison so she ordered his death. Then and there, in front of everybody. Off with his head."

"She beheaded someone? You brought me here to charm this woman? I like my head where it is thank you very much, turn this thing around I'm not doing this."

Ben's hand subconsciously moved to rub at his throat like he was making sure there was no slash mark appearing in his skin like magic. He liked his head on his neck above his shoulders where it should be, what if he said something wrong to this Queen or he did something she didn't like or he charmed her but didn't like her in that way? Would she sentence him to a beheading? Would she kill another sovereign out of vengeance or annoyance or even for sport?

How was Ben supposed to charm someone who beheaded her own subject for doing something wrong? That was like asking him to tame a wild beast with the danger of being killed in the process.

"Don't be so dramatic, plenty of other sovereigns have done that, granted this isn't exactly the era to be chopping heads, but it isn't unheard of. We're here now, you don't think she'd be so silly as to threaten to take your head when she knows who you are, do you?"

His father worded it so easily with a chuckle at the end of his words as if this was just a petty squabble between children or pre-wedding jitters. But no one knew for sure what this Queen would do, if she was unstable she may not care if Ben was a King or not, she may not want any alliances with him or any other countries. Surely there would be hundreds of other Kings and Queens and people of parliament trying to get close to her for an alliance, what if she got annoyed or fed up with them? Could she order their heads to be separated from their bodies with no repercussions to fall on herself?

They didn't know what she was capable of or what he power could protect her from.

"Why have that much power if you're only going to be afraid to use it?" Ben countered just as the carriage pulled up to a stop. They were here now and going back wouldn't be wise or kind, but Ben didn't want to woe any Queen that was capable of beheading him if she wanted.

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Chess.

What a name for a land to be ruled by a Queen of such power. It signified to Ben that the land was her game board with pawns to move and dispose of as she pleased. She could cut down any piece that didn't suit her fancy or play by her rules and her aim was to conquer all and have the game be won in her favour.

Even the floor he was standing on right now held large marble black and white gloss tiles that made him wonder if the Queen ever played human chess on this very floor. She could chop off the heads of the players she removed from the board or vanquished in the game. A real life or death game of chess that everybody would know she would always win.

Ben had always hated chess, and here he was stood on a real life chess board right at his feet. The black tiles were glossed over with a matt paint that had silver sparkles in that reflected the light from the three main chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the white tiles were glossed with the same silver sparkles but they were less noticeable. The floor could barely be seen due to the amount of people dancing or walking or just standing around on the tiles.

Ben didn't know one person here, which was the reason he had been stood near the buffet table for the last hour to keep out of the way. He could dance and he was rather good at it, but he didn't like dancing with strangers.

"Do you not dance?"

The voice that spoke to Ben was made of velvet, but the person that went along with it was something else entirely.

Her hair was what he noticed first. It was straightened to the point it could have been used as a ruler with a small handful from each side of her face pulled back and pinned to the back of her head. From her roots down to the halfway point of her hair, it was the darkest shade of purple that it was almost black, but from then to the ends which went just down past her shoulders, her hair lightened into lilac and the very tips were white. It sounded so wrong and as if it would look atrocious but it was rather enticing and eye-catching in the best kind of way.

She had a lovely complexion and her lips looked naturally blood-red with just a bad of crimson here and there.

The mysterious woman was wearing a dress that was knee length and the colour of sterling silver with a thrill trim over the top that held spades, diamonds, hearts and clubs dotted all around. There was a red ribbon looping around the middle like a belt with a bow tied at the back and the back of her dress turned into a black trim that hung down like a veil that reached the floor.

But what captured Ben completely was her face.

Her eyes were the prettiest shade of aqua blue that he had ever seen, so much so that it looked like he was staring into the deepest of oceans. But just under her right eye, there was a small spade drawn in what he guessed was black lipstick and outlined in silver glitter which looked like a teardrop. There was a club on her left cheek outlined in the same lipstick, both no bigger, if not smaller than Ben's thumb. And at each corner of her lips, she had a crimson heart one one side and a diamond at the other. She was a walking deck of cards right before his eyes.

"Not with strangers m'lady."

"A King who doesn't dance, is that normal where you're from?" (Y/n) let her lips form into a smile as she stared up at the man who looked so different and outcast in this kind of environment. He looked ordinary in a world where ordinary didn't exist. His hair was a lovely shade of blond which faded to snow white at the ends where it curled and his hair was shaved a little shorter at the sides. His eyes were perfect emerald green orbs, his cheekbones were defined and his lips were naturally dark blushing pink.

His height made him tower over (Y/n) but he wasn't intimidating, he looked rather laid back and calm. He had the physique and appearance of a King but the kind of nature of a humble subject.

"I suppose not, but where's the fun in normal?"

"My sentiments exactly... tell me, you wouldn't happen to be Benjamin, would you?"

"I might be, depends who's asking." Ben drank the last of the wine that was in his glass before he set the glass down on the table behind him. He didn't know how this girl knew who he was or his name unless she knew exactly who was going to be here and had gone round talking to everyone. Maybe she had heard some gossip, it wouldn't be too hard to find out who everyone here was, Ben just couldn't bothered to find out who was who.

"I'm (Y/n), and I'm asking for a dance. You should know I don't like being turned down." (Y/n) held her hand out, waiting patiently for his hand to slip into hers so she could lead him to the dance floor.

She knew exactly what she wanted and she was going to take it, Ben didn't have much of a choice here.

Her demanding words in such a sweet. velvety tone made him smile intriguingly and he had no problem giving her his hand. He didn't normally dance with strangers like this but there was something about this girl that was drawing him in and he liked it. He allowed her to lead him to the middle of the dance floor but the moment they were in hold, he took the lead in the dance.

It was unusual for Ben to dance with someone who wasn't his little brother or a partner at a ball who always stood on his feet. It was even more fun to dance with someone who kept trying to take the lead but Ben wasn't letting her have the reigns so easily.

The more they danced and circled around the floor he despised with the other people dancing, the more Ben started to realise something. Many people had pulled out of the dance, about half the couples were now stood on the sidelines watching instead of joining in. But everyone who was both dancing and watching were looking at those few who were still dancing. It was like there was some kind of game or rumour going around but Ben didn't know what it was.

He turned his attention back to the girl in front of him who seemed to glide around the dance floor like a spirit made just for dancing and the way she was smiling up at him made Ben shiver. She seemed so angelic but she looked so different and unique.

She took Ben by surprise when she pulled back and took it upon herself to spin under his arm, prompting him to spin her again before reeling her back in and spinning them both round like he was on the waltzers trying to make her dizzy.

"Where'd you learn to dance like this?" Ben whispered in her ear just loud enough for her and no one else to hear. He'd never had a dance partner that was as good as her.

"You could say I'm classically trained." There was something in her eyes that looked almost sad but Ben didn't dare dampen her mood by asking what it was.

"Funny, no one else here quite matches up to you tonight, do they?" Ben didn't know where his courage came from, but he found himself tracing the pad of his thumb very lightly against the suit designs on her face, making sure not to smudge the work of art on her features. No one else had painted designs on their face like this, no one wore such a dazzling yet maddening dress as she did and no one had her stunning features or hair either.

No one could dare compare with her tonight.

Ben liked the way she moved her hand that had previously been on his shoulder so she could feather her finger up and down his neck like she was trying to tickle him. By this point, the pair of them had stopped dancing and were stood on the outskirts of the dance floor so they weren't in the way. But just as Ben wondered if either of them would make a move, he dared to look around.

He noticed that no one was dancing anymore, despite the music still playing and flowing so perfectly through the air around them. When Ben caught sight of his father, he saw such a grin on his face and a look of delight washing over his creased eyes and it made Ben shiver.

The smile slipped from his face and his mouth opened but no words emerged from his lips.

What had he done?

"Your Majesty." Ben breathed through the words so quietly he was surprised she could hear him or lip read with how little his lips actually moved. He was dancing with the Queen of Chess. The Queen who had taken someone's head off simply because she thought it was a fitting punishment. The Queen who brought back the death penalty when it had been abolished for one hundred years prior to her reign here. He was dancing with an enamouring twenty year old Queen who held more power in one hand than Ben would hold in a lifetime on his own throne.

"He finally notices. Don't tell me dancing with a Queen is off-putting for such a King?" There was something like a warning tone in (Y/n)'s voice, as if she would be hurt that he wouldn't want to dance with her now he knew who she was. It made him fear what she would do if he felt like that.

Truthfully he didn't know how he felt. He didn't like what he had heard about her, but he liked who he had been dancing with prior to knowing who she was. Being around the Queen meant he was stepping on dangerous territory even if an alliance was on the cards. Ben guessed by the way people were staring at them that no one else had managed to get near the Queen tonight, let alone grab a dance with her which was why his father was smiling so winningly at him.

Was it such a big deal to dance with the Queen? She had chosen him after all, he wasn't doing his father's bidding, this was an encounter he didn't force to happen. Ben took a deep breath before he leaned his head down so he was level with her own.

"That depends, your Majesty."

"On what?"

"If being around you means I'll lose my head."

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #imagine #BoRhap #au #wonderland #hearts and crosses

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thorniest-rose · 4 years

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hey hun i just want to say people really need to learn how to NOT read things they dont like and how to view things critically without turning it into a hate fest. its not their business what you write or why you write it. if they think its not for them, they shouldnt read it in the first place. if they think it might be harmful to younger/more impressionable people??? well damn, those younger people shouldnt be looking at explicit content in the first place, now should they? 1/?

warnings and ratings exist for a reason and if you see something that squicks you, walk tf away. it isnt hard. if youre a minor, stay tf away from explicit content. if you still choose to look at it? thats your own fault. deal with the consequences. leave people alone.

if youre gonna go after fanfic authors for expressing themselves amidst a massive community wherein their work can EASILY be avoided, why not also send some hate mail to the author of the source material for writing a whole novel about abusive relationships and fetishizing women and girls and torturing children and a real actual orgy between a bunch of 11 year olds? why not get all defensive about that? youre in the same boat as the rest of us if youre in this fandom so why dont you examine that more closely for a hot second?

leave fanfic authors the hell alone. theyre providing a service to a community for FREE and they dont deserve your bs. learn to walk away. i know toddlers with better emotional regulation skills than the lot of you. stop whining about things that are 100% in your control. close the tab. take a deep breath. look out a window. get over yourselves, honestly. its fiction based on fiction.

brooke, youre doing great and i wish people would learn to make their own choices and to leave people alone. this isnt okay. if people went after me for my fics, which AGAIN are written for FREE, for US as much as THEM, i would flip.

#asks #the honeyvenom hate campaign #thank you so much #i appreciate all of this

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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intents wicked or charitable (trixya) 8/10 - beanierose

AN: thanks as always to validation station for cheering me on, and stutter for looking at this over and over again and being gentle and kind each time.

(read on ao3) | (find me at katiehoughton)

[one.] [two.] [three.] [four.] [five.] [six.] [seven.]

a practical magic au for the spooky season. there’s a curse on any man who dares love you? love a woman, instead. | 5,141 words

The nearest bar is a town over but Trixie keeps driving until she gets to the next town after that. The chance that she’ll see somebody she knows is much too high. Everybody in the whole town has been laughing at her behind her back, and if she has to face them right now she will start screaming. She feels it building at the base of her throat, and if she lets it out she doesn’t know how she’d ever stop.

Since she left Los Angeles, she’s only gotten drunk that one time in Katya’s kitchen. She’s out of the habit, now. Katya doesn’t drink, and Trixie doesn’t like to drink in front of her. She’s had the occasional glass of wine with dinner, but even that she hasn’t indulged in since they-

Well. Since they what?

Trixie hasn’t ever been courageous enough to put words to it, to ask Katya to commit to a label. She’s been pretending that she’s the sort of casual, low-maintenance person who doesn’t need to use words like relationship and girlfriend, but she isn’t. In her head, she’s been thinking of Katya that way, but for all she knows Katya doesn’t see her like that. For all she knows, Katya has a whole string of dumb, impressionable women bobbing along behind her like buoys on a line.

Trixie settles herself on a stool and gets a concerned tilt of the head from the bartender. Her hair is wet. Once she got Cash settled in the cowshed with his brother and spent a long time kneeling in the hay petting Guthrie’s nervous head, she took a shower.

She brushed and flossed and swilled mouthwash twice. Her mouth still tastes artificial, like mint, and she keeps working her tongue around her teeth. Trixie asks the bartender for his recommendation and orders that. When it comes it’s some kind of cocktail that’s pink and way too sweet, and it tastes awful in her toothpaste mouth, but she drinks half of it down without pausing for breath.

Her stomach is empty. On the stove the crockpot had burned dry. She’d come in the mudroom door and smelled it right away. It’s supposed to be foolproof, and she has a fucking Michelin star. Trixie had pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead and allowed herself to bend double for just a minute. Dolly had been looking for her dinner, hanging her head over her empty dish and whining insistently. Trixie fed her, turned off the crockpot, dumped her whole ruined dinner into the sink.

She sucks down the rest of the cocktail until she hits ice and her straw makes that awful, dry sucking noise. The alcohol is beginning to hit her now and she takes her first deep breath in hours, lets it all out in one long shuddering exhale.

The bartender has already prepped a second drink for her without her asking and he slides it wordlessly along the counter to her. After her shower she looked at herself in the mirror over the sink for a long time; she knows it’s bad. Her face is swollen and pink, her eyes glassy.

All of the Verbena products that Katya’s ever given her — the ones from that very first time they met and the things she’s tucked into Trixie’s coat pockets for her to find later — had littered the countertop. Trixie swept them all off into the wastebasket.

Katya certainly has a cabinet full of potions that would make her feel better. Now that she’s thinking about it, she’s sure every product Katya has ever given her has been imbued with a little magic. She could probably just press her hands to Trixie’s raw cheeks and think very hard about it and make the redness and the swelling disappear. The indignity of that, the shame of the imbalance between them, brings a fresh rush of hot tears. She keeps thinking she’s cried herself out and then her breath shudders in her chest and another wave hits her.

Being alone in the house had unsettled her. She’s let Katya in to her life, the tiny world she was inhabiting all by herself, and now the solitude she used to crave just makes her skin prickle. Sitting by herself at the bar is not that much better, but the alcohol is helping.

Mortification still burns in the pit of her stomach. Everyone in the whole town has been looking at her with pity, and Katya most of all. Trixie circles her finger around and around the rim of her glass. She used to be able to make it sing, but it’s been a while since she’s tried it and all she can manage is an unpleasant squeak.

“Can I get a sidecar, and a glass of water for her? Thanks, Will.”

Trixie turns to see Violet, the femme fatale from the grocery store, arranging herself delicately on the stool next to Trixie’s. Her hair is down from its ponytail and pinned up at the front in two victory rolls that accentuate the taut pull of her face, her sharp cheekbones and the V of her cupid’s bow.

Out of her uniform polo, Violet’s waist is waspish to a degree that makes Trixie nervous for her. Sitting beside her at the bar, even two towns over, is making Trixie feel pudgy and too big for her skin. The first time the two of them met, Trixie had been unmoored by her feelings for Katya and the wet ends of her hair had dripped onto the floor of the grocery store. Now her hair is wet again, and there’s a chasm in her chest. Trixie works the knuckles of two fingers against her breastbone and doesn’t meet Violet’s eyes.

“Thank you for calling Betty a hateful bitch. She fucking is.”

It seems a peculiar way to open the conversation. Violet accepts the champagne saucer from the bartender and holds it delicately by the stem. She takes a careful sip, somehow managing not to slurp or get the sugar from the rim of the glass stuck to her lipstick. Trixie feels like she’s encountered an apparition and has to blink a couple of times to shake it off.

She’s annoyed to be babied, but she drinks a little of her water anyway. She feels it hit her stomach. It’s so empty that it’s aching, clenched like a fist and drawing the rest of her in tight. Another wave of nausea crests up and she breathes slowly through it. She really doesn’t want to get sick again. Not in front of Violet.

Violet sets her glass down, carefully so as not to spill it, and folds her hands neatly in her lap. It makes Trixie nervous, and when she’s nervous she talks.

“You’re the only one who doesn’t hate Katya.”

It gets a laugh out of Violet. Like every other time, it’s startling. It’s like she suddenly remembers that she’s a three-dimensional person and not an art installation and she tips her head back, her mouth open wide.

“They don’t like, hate her. They’re afraid of her.”

There’s a bruise blooming furiously purple at the base of Trixie’s spine, from pressing herself against the cabinets as Katya approached her. It hurts when she leans on the back of the barstool. “For good fucking reason, don’t you think?”

“Are you scared of her, Trixie?” Violet arches one perfectly carved brow.

That’s the worst part. It’s the most humiliating part. Trixie doesn’t care about the magic. She’s not upset that Katya is a witch, and she’s not afraid of her. She was ready to stand by her when there was a chance she might have killed somebody. This isn’t worse than that.

“No. I guess not.”

Violet takes another sophisticated sip of her drink. She doesn’t put it down this time, instead gesturing at Trixie with the glass. “That’s what I thought, you bitch.”

They don’t know each other well. Trixie’s seen Violet around town a few times, and she came in to Verbena once while Trixie was there, but this is the first time they’ve been alone together. It isn’t like her, to be so loquacious with somebody she barely knows, but the alcohol and the ache in her chest have left her vulnerable.

“I never had enough information to be scared. I didn’t know I was supposed to be. She didn’t even give me the courtesy of letting me know that that should cross my mind.”

“Wait, what?” Violet sets her glass down, and this time a little of her drink does slosh over the rim and onto the countertop. “What do you mean you didn’t know? Oh my God. Oh my God. You only just found out? Bitch, I’m dead! That’s like, so major.”

Violet’s voice is loud enough that a few people nearby have turned to look, and Trixie feels the insistent bloom of embarrassment in her pink cheeks. It’s not busy enough tonight that she’s worried about it, but she’d prefer not to be overheard.

“I’m the only person who didn’t know, apparently,” she mutters.

“Well yeah, you dumb bitch. We’ve all known her for like, her whole life. It’s whatever. Like, we’ve all seen it for ourselves. You haven’t? Not even when you’ve been fu-” Trixie’s cheeks flame and she glances down at her lap. “Okay. Damn.”

Violet snags the bartender down again and asks him for a couple bags of chips. They seem to know each other, because he questions her about her dog — Trixie didn’t even know she has one — and she asks after his wife. Trixie sits sullenly like a chastised child and works on her glass of water.

She doesn’t really feel like eating, but Violet opens both bags down the middle and sets them on the counter between the two of them. A wave of longing for Katya surges up from the pit of Trixie’s stomach so suddenly that it takes her by surprise and she bites the inside of her cheek.

“It’s different with you two. You shop at her store. You defend her in public.”

“I fucked her,” Violet says calmly.

Trixie’s water goes down the wrong way and she chokes a little bit. It’s very undignified. The spluttering hack of her lungs would be embarrassing if she had any energy left for that. Violet lets her cough it out, wordlessly hands her a couple of paper napkins. When it’s over, she shifts to cross her legs at the opposite ankle. Trixie looks at her long nails, her tiny waist, the way her hair moves in one glossy sheet when she moves her head.

“A couple of times,” Violet gives Trixie the most disinterested, apathetic shrug. “It was no big deal.”

“You- when was this?”

Violet rolls her eyes and chews delicately on a couple of chips. The wait is excruciating. Trixie picks at her nail beds, bites the swollen inside of her cheek. Obviously, there’s a lot she doesn’t know about Katya, but she doesn’t want to believe that she would actually…it seems impossible.

“She didn’t like, cheat on you, you dumb whore.” Relief drops heavily over Trixie so that her shoulders sag. “It was before she was even married. We were both…figuring some things out. You know what I mean?”

“Did you date?” Violet levels her with a look. “Right. Sure. I just- you defended her.”

“Trixie, I’m a lesbian.”

Hearing it said so plainly sends a small thrill through Trixie, even though it isn’t the first time she’s heard it. She’s said it herself, lots of times to lots of people, but it’s different here. Violet seems entirely unbothered, and Will the bartender is right there but he doesn’t even look up.

“You think I don’t like, understand having a secret? You think I don’t get what it would be like to be an- to be an outcast?” She waves one hand flippantly. Trixie keeps getting stuck on those nails, dark red and shiny and filed into stiletto points.

“Oh please, look at yourself,” Trixie scoffs. “You’d never be an outcast, you femme fucking bitch.”

Violet’s eyes widen and she tilts her head. It makes one perfect curl tip forward over her shoulder. “Oh?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know. I saw you checking yourself out in the napkin holder, you whore.”

That gets a laugh, Violet’s mouth open wide again. Trixie sees the pink dart of her tongue against her white teeth and it makes her think of Katya, because everything makes her think of Katya. Violet shifts in her stool and crosses her legs at the knee so the toe of her absurd heel just barely brushes Trixie’s shin.

“No, I know I’m everything. Mama, please. How could I not. It’s just…interesting to hear that you think that.” Violet reaches out and rests her hand at Trixie’s forearm. Her eyes are even more sultry than usual so that they’re hardly even open.

“I’m sorry, what’s this?”

“Do you maybe want to work through your frustration?”

Trixie screeches, can’t help herself, and snatches her arm out from underneath Violet’s grip. She shunts her barstool backwards for good measure, to put an extra inch or two of space between them. “No! Oh my God! It’s just a compliment, it doesn’t mean that I want to fuck you. You lunatic.”

“You think I’m hot but you don’t want to fuck me?” It seems to dawn on Violet quite slowly. Trixie finishes the last of her water, traces her fingertip around and around in the salt left on the foil of the chip bag. “Oh! Ohhhh. You’re like, really in love with her aren’t you?”

“It fucking sucks,” Trixie says, and is horrified to feel the burn of tears again. Now that she’s rehydrated a fresh wave is threatening and giving her headache.

Violet doesn’t seem at all shaken at being shot down by Trixie. She can’t imagine what that must be like. Trixie’s pretty confident; the descriptors attached to her throughout the years have run the gamut from self-assured to arrogant bitch. Violet is a different creature entirely.

“Well yeah, you dumb bitch. That’s like, what love is like.” Trixie drops her head into her hands. “It makes your heart race. It turns the world upside down. Whatever. But if you’re not careful, if you don’t like, keep your eyes on something still, you can lose your balance. Know what I mean?”

“Yes. Yeah,” she mutters without lifting her head to look at Violet.

A cool, bony hand comes to rest at Trixie’s shoulder. It makes her flinch in spite of herself. She has only been touched by Katya for such a long time. She is only interested in being touched by Katya, even now. It’s a peculiar thing: she wants Katya to be here, to be the one comforting her, but she’s the reason that Trixie is hurting in the first place. The cognitive dissonance is making her feel a bit untethered to reality, like at any moment she could float up to the ceiling.

“It’s like, you can’t see what’s happening to the people around you. You can’t see that you’re about to fall.”

Trixie straightens up, then. Her forehead feels hot. “You think I didn’t notice the witch in my bed because I’m such a dumb lovesick idiot?”

“Girl, I get it. I know what it’s like. She’s pretty captivating.” Violet’s grinning now. She drains the last of her sidecar and nudges her empty glass over towards the bartender.

“It’s so embarrassing.” Trixie pinches the bridge of her nose hard. It doesn’t really help to stave off her headache, but it does give her an excuse not to have to look at Violet for just a moment.

Clearly, she’s a regular here. Will has poured out a soda for her without needing to be asked, and he offers one to Trixie as well. She declines, because she really needs to eat something more substantial than half a bag of chips before she drinks anything else at all.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Violet presses her lips together and rakes her eyes over Trixie very slowly. “Not about that, anyway. This wet hair, mama.”

“Fuck off.”

Violet grins at Trixie around her straw. It’s humid in the bar with body heat and alcohol and Trixie’s hair is frizzing as it dries, but Violet is still sleek and shiny. It’s like she’s been encased in resin or vacuum sealed.

“She told me that she hoped she would never fall in love. That she used to whisper it to herself when she was a little kid. Sitting at the top of the stairs watching her aunts helping people with potions and all that shit, I don’t know. Isn’t that the saddest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“When we first met, you said something about a curse.”

“Oh, yeah. People say that there’s like a curse on her family. That any man she loves is destined to die. It’s just because her parents died and her aunts were spinsters and then when Michael died…people are gossipy and bored and fucking dumb. That’s all it is, Trixie.”

“Yeah, but if the magic is real-”

“Even if there is a curse,” Violet cuts in and lifts one hand. She has a gold ring just above the knuckle of her middle finger, and a red indentation in her pointer finger. “It’s on men. I don’t think you should worry about that. You’re not gonna die.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. You said the curse is on the people that she loves, right? I’m safe.”

Violet very suddenly loses all of her decorum and honks out a laugh. Both hands fly up to her hair and she skims her fingers delicately against the tight pin curls like she’s worried they might have come loose with that outburst.

“Trixie, you dumb fucking bitch. She’s head over heels for you. Sometimes when I’m working nights she comes into the store and just sits at my register and like, talks and talks and talks about you.”

“She does?”

They spend most of their nights together. There have been a few times when Katya has needed to be up extra early to accept a delivery, or Trixie has had a moment of claustrophobia, and they’ve spent an evening apart. She’s wondered, those times, what Katya’s doing while Trixie soaks in the bathtub with the radio turned down low.

“Yes.” Violet sighs. There’s a tiny smudge of dark eyeliner just below her left eye. “God. I know more about the two of you and your relationship than I ever needed to.”

Trixie clears her throat. She’s spent the whole day feeling foolish and chastised, and a small childish creature in the pit of her stomach wants to go home and pull the sheets over her head.

“I didn’t know that.”

“She’s not so great with the emotional honesty stuff. Not since Michael. It’s hard for her to like, open up or whatever.”

Violet has finished her soda and she shunts the empty glass down the bar towards Will. She declines the offer of another and folds her hands neatly together in her lap again. She meets Trixie’s eyes, insists upon it, but hers are warm and kind.

“But I know she cares about you a whole lot. Her face lights up when someone even mentions you, it’s disgusting.”

Trixie has chewed on the inside of her cheek so much that it’s raw and swollen. She probes at the sore spot with the tip of her tongue.

“I thought she was…” There are things she hasn’t gotten the chance to say yet. And even though she so desperately wants to speak them into existence, Katya deserves to be the first person to hear it. Not Violet. “I care about her so much. I just don’t understand why she couldn’t trust me with this. I trust her. I trusted her.”

Violet slides off her barstool in one fluid motion like water poured from a tall glass. She holds out her hand to Trixie, and when she doesn’t take it she clicks her tongue and grabs Trixie by the wrist to haul her to her feet.

“Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

“My car-”

Violet puts a couple of folded bills down on the bar and calls out a goodbye to Will. Now that she’s on her feet Trixie is a bit woozy and she’s glad for Violet’s arm hooked through hers.

“I’ll bring you back in the morning to get it. You look like a fucking nightmare, mama. Let’s go.”

It’s kind of nice to be on autopilot for a little bit. The ground rushes up to meet Trixie with each step that she takes and she clings to Violet, allowing herself to be babied. She’s not entirely cooperative when Violet tries to get her into the passenger seat. When the door is closed she slumps against it, her cheek pressed to the cold of the window. The engine makes the whole car vibrate and Trixie feels it into the roots of her teeth. Whenever they hit an uneven patch of road she’s jostled, her head lolling back and forth.

She doses off a little bit. The cold of the car is sobering her up, but she still feels pleasantly outside of herself. Violet doesn’t play any music or the radio and the silence makes it difficult to tell how much time is passing. She cuts the engine, and the sudden cessation of movement makes Trixie’s eyes open. She grunts and immediately closes them again, covers them with a hand for good measure.

“Nuh-uh. No. I wanna go home, Violet.”

“You can’t like, ignore her. Be a grownup. Tell her what you told me.”

Trixie huffs a sigh and peels one eye open. “That I think you’re hot?”

“No, you rotted bitch!” Violet is uncomfortably loud in the intimate confines of the car. “That you care about her. That you love her.”

“I did tell her that.”

“Tell her again. Tell her while you’re not crying.”

Violet leans across Trixie and opens the passenger door. She hadn’t really noticed it getting warm in the car but the middle of the night cold is rushing in unpleasantly now. Trixie gets out, because Violet has unbuckled her belt for her and is shoving on her arm and she’s going to fall on her ass in the snow if she doesn’t.

There’s a whisper of movement inside as Trixie trudges up the driveway. She didn’t have the presence of mind to put her coat on earlier this evening and she’s shivering in just her sweater after only a couple of steps. It’s sobering her up. The front door pops open before Trixie even makes it up the porch steps and Katya comes out to grab her and tug her inside.

It’s warm, because Katya’s house always is. There’s a fire burning in the grate and Katya brings her all the way into the living room and sits her down on the couch. She fusses with a blanket, tucking it around Trixie, and she eases her boots off for her so that she can curl her sock feet up onto the couch cushion.

Katya kneels at her feet. Even in the firelight, Trixie sees the red tip of her nose and her swollen eyes and satisfaction twists in her stomach for just a moment. It’s swiftly replaced by a grief that rushes through her like a saline flush. She doesn’t want Katya to hurt; even just a few hours’ distance has clarified that for her.

“Trixie, honey, what are you doing?” Katya says very softly. For just a moment she’s a stranger, and then she gets those twin creases between her brows that Trixie loves to kiss off her.

Trixie is grouchy and petulant and it spills out in her voice. “Violet is an agent of chaos.”

It startles a laugh out of Katya. She looks very small, kneeling on the floor. It reminds Trixie of the last time she was drunk. Trixie frees a hand from the blanket and lays it on the couch cushion close to Katya’s head. She takes it immediately and threads their fingers together, rests her cheek to the back of Trixie’s hand.

“Are you okay?” Trixie nods, but Katya doesn’t seem entirely convinced. “You’re good?”

She feels suddenly weepy again. Trixie scrapes a clumsy hand through her hair and encounters a knot that makes her hiss a breath through her teeth. “It sucks that even when you’re the one who hurt me, you’re also the only person I want to see. I really hate you for that.”

“You’ve been feeling drawn to me, haven’t you. Since we met.”

Katya sounds exhausted. She’s still resting her head against the clasp of their hands and her lashes brush Trixie’s skin with each slow blink. Even in the wan light of the late evening, even from this angle, even after so much sorrow today, she is still so beautiful that Trixie can hardly bear to look at her.

There’ve been a couple of times when she’s tried to bring it up, tried to ask Katya if she feels the same tug low down in her stomach, the same sharp, curved hook. The problem is, Trixie allows herself to be easily distracted. She’s a talker, and she’s needed reassurance, but Katya will slide a knee over Trixie’s thighs or curl her fingers at Trixie’s ears and the words just don’t seem so urgent anymore.

“Yeah, I have. You’re a banshee.”

Katya turns her head to kiss the back of Trixie’s hand, a little scrape of teeth to show that she really means it. “That’s not what banshees do, baby.”

“Are they real too?” If she had the energy, if she weren’t exhausted and hurting and still a little drunk, Trixie might rear up from the arm of the couch. She stays slumped, and she doesn’t press the issue when Katya doesn’t answer.

“The reason that you have been — the reason that you’re here — is because I sent for you.” Katya’s eyes are closed now, like she doesn’t think she can make it through her explanation if she has to look at Trixie. “When I was a tiny little girl I worked a spell, so I would never fall in love. I asked for qualities that I knew couldn’t possibly exist. But here you are.”

She sounds so achingly sad that Trixie can’t bear it. From the moment they first met, Trixie has wanted Katya. She made herself wait, because she knew that they had something worth being careful with. She isn’t about to waste all of that hard work.

She slides off the couch, bringing the blanket with her, and lands half in Katya’s lap in a messy knot. Katya’s arms come around her and she arranges them both, frees the edge of the blanket where it’s gotten trapped beneath Trixie and threatens to tip her over.

It’s not exactly comfortable, but Katya is warm and smells like herself. Trixie lets her heavy head rest at Katya’s shoulder. “You’re saying what I feel for you is just one of your spells?”

“Yeah.” There’s a wet lump of sorrow in Katya’s throat that she has to cough to clear. “It’s not real, honey.”

“Yeah well all relationships have problems,” Trixie says.

It makes Katya laugh a tiny bit. She’s got one hand cradling the back of Trixie’s head now. The floor is uncomfortable, making Trixie’s ass go numb, but she’s so tired that she can’t imagine trying to move.

If Katya has been thinking that this entire time. If Katya has been certain that Trixie doesn’t really love her, that she’s bewitched-

Trixie can’t bear that.

“I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t know for sure.”

She sounds so resigned to it. Trixie can’t stop thinking about Katya, awake and alone in the middle of the night with Trixie out cold at her side. Katya, wondering when the curse is going to take Trixie from her. Trixie struggles to get to her knees so she can look at Katya properly. Her eyelashes are all sticking together and her eyes are dark and enormous.

“Curses only have power when you believe in them,” Trixie says. Her voice is firm, no wiggle room for argument. As she says it, she imagines that it’s made true. “And I don’t.”

“Trixie-”

She touches her thumb to Katya’s chin. “You know what? I wished for you, too.”

Katya’s whole face crumples and her mouth opens on a sob. Trixie reaches for her and gathers her up, rocks Katya against her chest like a small child. She’s crying soundlessly and without moisture, dry sobs wracking her whole body and making her jerk violently in Trixie’s arms.

I don’t want you to die, she says over and over.

Trixie holds her until she exhausts herself, and a little longer after that. Katya has one hand fisted in Trixie’s sweater so that the wool bunches up and exposes the bare skin just above the waistband of her pants. The fire has burned out in the grate and it’s chilly in the living room now. Trixie gets the blanket around them both. She thinks about moving them back onto the couch, or to the bed, but Katya is curled up tiny like a pillbug.

“I’m not gonna die. I’m way too stubborn.”

It doesn’t earn her the laugh she’s looking for. Instead, Katya straightens out and puts some distance between the two of them. “I don’t think it’s safe. For you to be here. For you to be near me. I don’t think it’s safe.”

“Katya, I’m sorry, but this is bullshit. I believe you. I believe in you. But I don’t believe you’re cursed.”

Trixie swipes impulsively at her cheek with the pads of her fingers, but they come away dry. She’s done crying for tonight. The suggestion that she can’t make decisions for herself, that she loves Katya because of a spell cast twenty five years ago, has rankled her. Katya is refusing to look at her now. Trixie wants to take her by the shoulders and shake her, wants to put her to bed and stroke her hair until she falls asleep.

There’s an angry purple vein in Katya’s forehead that Trixie has never seen before. Katya catches her looking and touches a self-conscious hand to it. “I think you should go.”

“I can’t go. Your side piece has me trapped here.” Katya’s eyes fly to Trixie’s at that and her mouth drops open. Something small and vindictive inside of Trixie is glad for it, hopeful that Katya is ashamed the way Trixie has been. “She’s gonna take me back to the car in the morning. So I’m sorry babe, but we have one last night.”

#rpdr fanfiction #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #trixya #magical realism #tenderness #isolation #slow burn kind of #iwoc #beanierose #lesbian au

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vannahfanfics · 5 years

Text

Two Hearts Become One

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Characters: Lucy Heartfilia and Gray Fullbuster

Requested by: farrah87 (Ao3)

Lucy sighed forlornly as she sat at one of the tables within the Fairy Tail guild, lamentedly swirling the drink in her cup around and around and around. With one sudden cry, she slammed the drink down against the wooden surface and immediately followed suit with her forehead.

“I’m so bored!” she whined miserably. Her normal partner, Natsu, had been recruited by Lisanna for a job because her normal partner Elfman was on a job by himself. Erza had basically bullied Wendy into taking a job with her because it required the use of her stat-boosting and wind magic abilities, and despite her attempts to be included on the mission, Lucy had been forced to remain behind on account of Erza’s desire to “have one-on-one time with the impressionable little girl.” As usual, Lucy had no idea what was going on in the legendary warrior’s head. She could take a mission with someone else, she supposed, but it was just odd; it was either Natsu, or everyone on the team, and nothing else. I don’t know if I can take any more of this boredom any longer, though.

“Hey, Lucy.” The miserable girl raised her head when prompted, her lips still pursed into a sad pout. Gray was standing beside her with one hand in his coat pocket and the other holding up a piece of paper— a job. “Want to go on this job with me?” Lucy’s unhappy expression immediately morphed to one of curiosity and confusion. Gray never asked her personally to take jobs; Juvia was his regular partner, and her jealous streak was enough of an annoyance for him to usually refrain from asking other female mages to take jobs with him just to save him the trouble of dealing with her. Even as Lucy took the job description to inspect it, she could feel the rain-woman’s animosity brewing across the room. “I figured you would be a good person to ask because you know so much about books,” Gray explained as she read over the request.

“A cursed book?” According to the description from a local shopkeeper, a magical book had landed in his inventory and he had been unable to get rid of it ever since. Every time he sold it, the customer would return it within days, sometimes hours, claiming it had cursed magical properties. Apparently, it had caused all sorts of problems, from temporary transformations to plagues of bad luck to making animals talk. He was at his wit’s end and wanted a wizard to remove the curse so he could sell it once and for all. “It does sound like an interesting job.” Though curses weren’t something she cared to investigate, a book was enough to get her on board. “Let’s go right now!” she grinned and hopped out of her seat. In her excitement, she grabbed Gray’s hand to tote him along out of the guild, leaving Juvia seething with jealous rage in a corner until Gajeel knocked her in the head because she was disturbing his lyric-writing (which he probably needed to be interrupted because he was terrible at it).

Lucy was on cloud nine as she strolled down the streets of Magnolia Town, both at the prospect of investigating a magical tome and having a job to do in general. As she hummed happily under her breath, she wasn’t even aware that she was still holding Gray’s hand, or that he was pink-cheeked and looking anywhere but her because of it. She paused in the middle of the street to peer at the crudely-drawn map that had been included in the job request describing the shop’s location. “Let’s see… I think we take this turn here, and then a left, go down for three blocks and make a right,” she murmured and then looked at Gray to ensure he was listening. She narrowed her eyebrows when she discovered that he was not. “Hey, Gray, are you listening?”

“Oh, my, look at them. Such a cute couple.” A bystander’s comment distracted her from her scolding, and she looked to the side of the street to see two older women chuckling to themselves.

“Ah, young love. It’s so wonderful,” her partner agreed with a wistful sigh. Lucy turned red from her toes to the top of her head, finally realizing that her hand still enclosed that of the ice wizard, and she hurriedly retracted it like he had burned her terribly. Finally, he was able to look at her, and when he saw she was blushing so fiercely he turned a whole shade darker.

“Hey, what’s the matter? You got a fever or something?” he spat and turned his face away again, but after a second he couldn’t help but peer at her out of his peripheral vision. “If you’re sick, we shouldn’t go on this mission! I’ll ask someone else!”

“I’m not sick!” she spat back but turned another hue of red. Lucy didn’t want him to think her embarrassed, and she definitely didn’t want him to ask someone else to go. Strangely, she wanted him to ask Juvia least of all, though they worked well together. Gray and I work well together too! “Speak for yourself! You’re turning red too!”

“Am not!” His face was the color of a ripe apple. “I-it’s just really sunny, that’s all! The sun is making us burn!” Without further ado, he grabbed her by her upper arm and yanked her sideways underneath the shady awning of a building, but inadvertently pulled her into him; as her nose bumped against his chest, she let out a surprised squeak while her face continued to explore every possible shade of red it could turn. Gray gasped and hurriedly stepped back, but put excessive distance between them and tripped backward over a box. Lucy jumped as his red face was replaced by his feet because he had tripped and fallen into an empty box behind it. “Wh-what the hell? I’m stuck!” he whined loudly as he tried pulling himself out of the tiny wooden structure to no avail. Still pink and embarrassed, Lucy could not help but burst into giggles seeing him red-faced with his behind crammed in a crate. “Lucy! It’s not funny! Get me out!” He’s so cute!

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” she mused and crouched down beside him to grab his arm. She was painfully aware of the feeling of his sculpted muscles beneath his coat sleeve as she stood and pulled hard. It took a few tries, but she was able to detach the ice wizard from the box. For a second, they both stood there beneath the cloth awning with identical blushes. What the heck just happened? Why did we get all flustered like that? She then whirled on her heel and coughed awkwardly. “R-right! To the shop!”

Somehow they were able to make it to the second-hand book shop with no more crazy incidents. A little bell rang to signal their arrival as they walked inside. “Hello? We’re mages from Fairy Tail!” she called into the depths of the shop when she noticed no one was at the counter. Truthfully, Lucy cared little about the job at the moment, because her attention was captured by the piles and shelves of dusty tomes. The shelves stretched to the ceiling and were crammed with all manners of books. Small ones, large ones, ones that looked brand-new and ones that were falling out of their bindings, magical textbooks, fairy tales, cookbooks, memoirs; it took all her willpower no to just abandon Gray right there, pick up a handful of them, and retreat to a cozy nook to absorb more knowledge and stories. Before she could act on her urge, a middle-aged man came trotting out from the back of the story, stopping to bow apologetically in front of them.

“Yes, thank you for coming! My name is Pazu; I own this bookstore. You’ve come to respond to my request?”

“That’s right,” Gray agreed and stepped a little closer behind Lucy. For some reason, she could feel his body heat radiating from him and it made her shiver, but in a good way. What is wrong with me today? She thought with an inward groan. The shopkeeper sank into a relieved smile.

“Oh, wonderful. Come, I have it in a case in the back of the store.” The pair of wizards followed the man to the back wall, where a large, leather-bound volume was encased in glass. Lucy’s mouth fell open in awe as soon as she saw it, it was so beautiful. It was bound in rich purple leather patterned in intricate runes that were inlaid with silver thread and was as thick as the muscle on Gray’s arm. Wait, that’s a weird analogy! While she pondered what had her brain on the fritz, the shopkeeper’s shoulders sagged and he sighed. “I picked this tome up from a traveling merchant. He said it was a book of spells, and it is, but apparently, the book possesses enough magical power in itself to activate them on its own.” Indeed, when she concentrated, Lucy could sense the magical energy pouring off the book in thick waves. “The curses go off randomly. I don’t know what to do. Please help me!” he cried and bowed deeply to them.

“No problem. Let’s see what this thing is hiding,” Gray smirked and immediately swung the glass door of the case open and reached for the book. Lucy didn’t have time to cry out that it was a terrible idea; as soon as his hand landed on the rich leather binding, the book flashed with blinding white light. Both she and Gray cried out in alarm as the white light enveloped them. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear the intense whiteness, and gasped as she felt her body begin to hum with energy. It was a strange feeling, like her molecules were disassembling and reassembling a million times a second, leaving her with pins-and-needles all over. After a few seconds, the light dimmed and the strange sensation faded, so she opened her eyes hesitantly.

The first thing she noticed is that she felt taller. She was looking down at the shopkeeper now, while before she had been nearly eye-level with him. She also felt denser too, like she was packing more muscle weight. Were her clothes different too? She had been wearing a tank top, but her shirt had sleeves.

“Hey, Gr- oh!” That wasn’t her voice coming out of her. It was Gray’s. In a panic, she looked at her reflection in the glass case and gasped again. It wasn’t her reflection, but the dark-haired man’s. Her hands flew to her cheeks, which were not the soft cheeks of her body but the chiseled jawline of Gray. “We switched bodies!”

“God damn it!” Gray cursed, and it sounded unnatural in Lucy’s high, feminine voice.

“I told you! It’s cursed!” the shopkeeper wailed in dismay and sank to his knees. With a growl (it was strange feeling the guttural sound resonate in Gray’s chest), Lucy yanked the dusty book out of the display case and began flipping through the pages trying to find the particular spell they had activated.

“Here it is! The body-swap curse!” Lucy cried. Gray frowned (it was weird seeing such a look on her own face) as he peered over her shoulder, but was so used to being taller that he made her crouch down so he could do as normal. Lucy grimaced, lamenting the burning in her- Gray’s- knees while attempting to hold the book steady as she scanned the contents. “It says here that the only way to reverse the curse is ‘for the fighting couple to reconcile and their hearts to become one.’” The words hung in the air for a while, before the two of them glanced at each other with bristling shoulders and matching blushes.

“We aren’t a fighting couple!” Gray objected wildly. Is that how I look when I blush? I’m adorable, Lucy thought for a second before she recalled the problem at hand and nodded fiercely.

“Yeah- and what is this ‘hearts become one’ nonsense?” she huffed and tried reading the passage again a few times to discern a possible hidden meaning or clue. She found none, and with a heavy sigh, she sank down to the floor with her legs stuck out on either side of her and her head hung. “We’re doomed.”

“Don’t do that girly pose in my body!” Gray snapped at her, and when she looked up at him dourly, she pointed at him while grinding her -Gray’s- teeth.

“Don’t do that in my body!” Gray had resorted to his signature casual stripping, and now he was in her body in just her bra and underwear. The shopkeeper had succumbed to the allure of her curvaceous body and was bleeding out of his nose onto the wooden shop floor with a contented sigh.

“What are you talking about- oh. When did that happen?”

“I’m doomed.”

She and Gray sat in the second-hand shop for another hour attempting to riddle out how to break the curse before they abandoned the endeavor and decided to bring the book back to Fairy Tail for more wizened minds to investigate. Their cheeks were both dyed pink as they marched in silence down the street. Lucy kept fidgeting, not used to being taller and broader than everyone else, and thus bumping into pretty much everyone they passed. Gray kept muttering under his breath about the lack of pockets in Lucy’s outfits because he kept going to slide his hands into them but met only the smooth fabric of her skirt. After they were halfway there, Gray groaned loudly and threw his head back in agony.

“God damn! Lucy, how do you do it? These things are killing my back!” he whined while shamelessly jiggling her chest. The only thing that came out of Lucy’s mouth was senseless screeching gibberish as her brain short-circuited in her head.

“Don’t touch my body like that! Pervert! You pervert!” she shrieked wildly while Gray somehow managed to replicate his moody, disinterested scowl on her girlish face. As Lucy tilted back her head and cried a little bit, lamenting the unfortunate turn of events, someone shouted at them from down the street.

“Gray! Long time no see!” Lucy tilted her head slightly to see who was calling them, finding a familiar shock of bright bluish-white hair and familiar fashion sense.

“Oh. It’s Lyon.” The Lamia Scale wizard stopped a foot or two short of them, smiling brightly. “What do you want?” Gray sighed, looking far too irritated to deal with his friend at the moment. It was even stranger coming out her normally friendly self, and Lyon noticed, raising his eyebrows before turning to Gray- well, herself in Gray’s body.

“I’m here to challenge you for Juvia!”

“Do what?” they both screamed in unison, and before either of them could explain the strange body-swap curse, Lyon grinned devilishly and fell into his ice-make pose. Lucy screamed— emitting a very high-pitched sound that was several octaves higher than Gray’s normal voice— and flung to the side as a lion made of ice pounced at her with sharp claws. “No! Lyon! Wait! I’m not Gray!” she wailed miserably as she huddled on the ground, hand on her head and butt in the air.

“Lucy! You’re making me look uncool! Ice make— shit!” Gray snapped and went to perform his magic, momentarily forgetting that Lucy had no such capabilities. He snatched her keys from her belt and began jingling them around. “How the hell do you use these?”

“Don’t treat my Celestial keys like that!” Lucy snapped at them as she rolled across the street to avoid the icy lion again. As she landed, clumsily because she was a bit heavier than she was used to being, Lyon was standing in the middle of the street with his shoulders hunched in disappointment.

“Come on, Gray. You’re being no fun…”

“I told you I’m not Gray!” Lucy screeched angrily and jumped at him to slam her fist down on his head. As Lyon crouched down, whining as he cradled his head, the lion disintegrated into snow flurries and vanished. Lucy stood over him with her hands on her hips while Gray continuously bleated that she was making him look like a dork. “Gray and I have switched bodies on accident! Fight him some other time!”

“No, Lucy, I don’t want to fight him ever! It’s too much of a pain!” Gray whined in the background. Lyon looked up at her with knitted eyebrows, then at Gray in her body, the back to her in Gray’s.

“… That’s weird.”

“Yeah, I know, so do you know anything about breaking curses?”

Lyon proved exceptionally unhelpful. He was originally going to follow them to Fairy Tail, but Gray kicked him in the behind (which he validated by saying it was something she would do) and sent him packing to his hotel, both ego and body bruised. Lucy was utterly exhausted by the time they came stumbling through the door to the guild, though it was only mid-day. Lucy let out a gak! as Juvia sprang out of nowhere to wrap her in a tight hug.

“My Gray! Oh, I missed you so much! Is it Juvia's turn now?” she asked, batting her eyelashes entreatingly. Gray’s face—or rather, her own— was a portrait of acute disgust and embarrassment.

“Juvia, I’m Lucy. We’re under a curse,” she explained as the blue-haired woman nuzzled her shoulder affectionately, and Juvia retracted with a hiss, shoulders hunched; if she had been a cat, her ears would be flattened to her head and hackles bristling.

“What? How dare you invade my Gray’s body, Lucy! Get out! Get out right now!” she demanded and looked at her body as if she was considering being affectionate, but the sight of her, even if it was Gray’s soul inside it, was enough to make her shiver. Lucy’s shoulders hunched up to her ears.

“I didn’t do it on purpose! Trust me, I would like to get out of it as soon as possible!”

“What are you saying? Gray’s body is perfect! You should be honored to be in it!”

“Make up your mind, Juvia!” Lucy screamed and tugged at the blue-black hair of Gray’s head in frustration, then sighed heavily and hung her head. “Ugh, whatever. Come on, Gray, let’s see if Mirajane or the Master can help us.” She looked to her right and found empty space where he had been. He had obviously snuck off while Juvia was too involved arguing with her to notice. “Gray!”

Unfortunately for the cursed mages, neither Mirajane nor the Master could offer any ideas to how to reverse the curse aside from the scripted clause. Lucy wanted to end this curse as soon as possible, so she forced Gray to accompany her to her apartment to riddle out the curse no matter how long it took. After hours of wracking her brain, Lucy flung back against the couch with an exhausted groan, watching through lidded eyes as her head bobbed up and down as Gray came dangerously close to nodding off to sleep. “Gray, this is hopeless. We’re gonna be stuck like this forever.” She ran a hand through her- his- hair and in her tired delirium appreciated the softness of the strands, fingers lingering amongst the fine fibers for a minute.

“Maybe it isn’t as complicated as you think.” She raised an eyebrow at him as he straightened up at looked at her. The serious expression he was wearing looked kind of odd on her face. “‘A fighting couple has to reconcile and their hearts become one,’ right?”

“Yeah, but Gray, you and I aren’t really fighting about anything, and we aren’t a couple.”

“Maybe that’s just it.” Lucy’s mouth twitched, somehow simultaneously liking and dreading where the conversation was heading. Her body betrayed Gray’s embarrassment, the cheeks of her face turning pink. “Um… Maybe… The problem is that we’re fighting each other about being honest to one another.” He tilted his head to the side and scratched his head, a very Gray gesture. Lucy didn’t know what he meant, or maybe she did, and the thought of it frightened her a little. Her gaze drifted to the bottom corners of her eyes, a natural gesture when she was uncomfortable.

“Gray, I don’t think I understand what you mean…” No, she did understand, deep down; she wanted to deny it still, or maybe she didn’t and just wanted Gray to be the one to say it, because she just didn’t have the courage to say it herself. She couldn’t straight; her mind was simultaneously blank and whirling with a million thoughts, landing on strange things like how sexy Gray looked all the time whether he was clothed or not, how sometimes she wished Gray was her partner instead of Natsu even though Natsu was her best friend in the entire world because the thought of Juvia spending all that time alone with him drove her insane, about how some nights she would lay in bed staring out the window at the stars wondering if Gray was looking at those same stars and if he was wondering if Lucy was looking at those stars too, and-

“Lucy…” Somehow Gray managed to bring a mannish sultriness to her feminine voice that sent another one of those good shudders through her body, and for a moment the strange maelstrom in her mind halted so that she could focus on him. Even though it was her body that she was looking at, standing up from the opposite couch to walk around the table to stand over her with this look on her face, Lucy could only recognize it as Gray. What was that expression? He never looked at Juvia that way, but it was a look she had seen on him before when looking at her, this happiness mixed with careful contemplation and a little bit of hesitation, too. “Be honest with yourself.”

Be honest. So simple a thing yet so complicated, too. If she was honest with herself, so much would change, every dynamic of every relationship they had; Lucy had denied it, denied it to keep the status quo, but she couldn’t deny it anymore. Gray wasn’t denying it anymore; that’s what he was telling her. It was amazing how awfully clear it was to her just then. They didn’t even have to say it out loud for the two of them to recognize it, because, at that moment, their hearts and minds were one.

Lucy’s living room became enveloped with the blinding white light, and once again the strange pins-and-needles assaulted her entire body. When the magic spell faded, Lucy had to flew her hands for a moment, momentarily unable to believe that she was back in her own body. Before she could say anything, Gray grabbed her by the hips and pulled her down onto his lap, making her yelp; again, before she could say anything, his mouth had covered her own, and then she didn’t even think of saying anything because there was nothing to be said. Lucy’s body melted as Gray kissed her softly, and in her euphoria, Lucy pressed herself against him, desperate to feel as much as him as she could. She could feel his heart beating beneath her own; their heartbeats beat out of tune at first, but gradually settled into a matching rhythm, a gentle synchronized cadence softly echoing as once more their hearts and minds and souls aligned.

When he pulled away from her, Lucy was hesitant to do so, and her mildly flushed face hovered a few centimeters away from his. She had been longing for that moment and was admittedly a little disappointed it had been so brief. He smirked up at her. “You have that pouty look on your face again.” This made her blush further because it meant that he took careful note of his expressions just like she did his, and that made her a little shy. “Come on, aren’t you going to say something?”

“I love you.” He was probably expecting her to say something bratty as she often did because a look of shock came over his face. That was what she was feeling, though, and it was the only thought that dominated her mind. “I love you, Gray.” The ice wizard’s face melted into a loving smirk and he wound his arms around her waist, pulling her body against his while he looked up at her alluringly.

“I love you, Lucy.” This time, Lucy leaned in to kiss him, and he allowed it. Lucy knew everything was going to change after that, but honestly, she didn’t care; for that brief time, she just enjoyed it, the way their two hearts had become one.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#fairy tail #grayxlucy #lucyxgray #graylu #oneshot #oneshot collection #confessions #first kiss #canon compliant #romance #curses #cutesy #fluff

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snarkybluechristian · 5 years

Text

My OC x Out of Character Yandere Male

Edit: I don’t remember if I submitted this before, but it is worth sharing again.

Chelsea sat on the floor of the dungeon taking pictures of the window leading to the outside with her smart phone. It was rare for her to be locked inside a large spacious castle dungeon, so she took the opportunity to take the best photographs she could.

She looked at the pictures and sighed in frustration. The dungeon was too dark to take any decent photographs until the moon finished rising.

Her phone buzzed. She received some funny text messages from her friend Albina and responded to them with witticisms that she knew didn’t match hers. She got another text message from her father telling her dinner was almost ready. Chelsea responded to him with reassurances that her work would be done soon.

The 18-year-old half Japanese girl had been kidnapped by [insert psycho main character here] and was waiting for him to make up his mind to show up to fulfill his misguided, unoriginal “50 Shades of Gray” fantasies.

She had been chained up in a compromising position, but being really bored and highly competent, she used her mutant powers to escape them. Chelsea could leave whenever she wanted to, but she had a point to make.

“Author, would you please finish your eternal revision of the first fan fic and get to writing your original content soon!” Chelsea yelled at the person writing this parody story. “I’m so sick of being a damsel in distress in almost every story you have with me! It sucks!”

As if on cue, her captor slammed the door open with an over-the-top evil grin. Imagine him to be whatever fictional character you want as long as he’s uncharacteristically evil. He was wearing a scary dark outfit that was all black to match his over-the-top persona and hopefully make up for his one-dimensional personality.

He looked at the spot where she was chained before, and his eyes flashed in panic when he saw the chains cut apart on the ground.

Chelsea scooted herself away quietly so that she was more completely covered in shadow. She was grateful that she was wearing dark clothes for the occasion. She was wearing dark blue jeans, black tennis shoes, a green and brown plaid coat, and a black blouse with a neck line that ended just above her breasts to throw him off guard, of course. Chelsea had been planning this for a while. The brightest thing she wore was the red-beaded necklace her mother made for her.

“I told you not to escape, slave!” her captor said angrily. “Now, you will pay the price!”

He left the door open and started walking around the prison cell to look for any trace of his new plaything.

Chelsea facepalmed. At least, GLaDOS and the dream organization people were smart. It was worse than she thought.

Once he was close enough and had his back turned, Chelsea quickly activated her powers. Hard blue light photons flowed out of her hands to form two large discs. She put one of them on the ground and jumped on top of it. It rose into the air and she quietly flew over her captor’s head. Chelsea then dissolved the disc under her feet and fell on top of him knocking him over immediately onto the ground.

“What the hell?!” he yelled while Chelsea kneeled next to him with her disc still on her arm which she held above his neck. “I’m supposed to be the one doing the torturing!”

“What are you doing right now?” Chelsea asked.

“What?”

“Seriously, what are you doing? Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean? I’ve kidnapped you, so I can torture you and traumatize you and make you fall in love with me somehow!”

“If you want to hurt me, why would I fall in love with you?”

“No, I’ll turn into a gentleman, you’ll forget all about the abuse, and we’ll be happy ever after!”

Chelsea rolled her eyes.

She then stood up, dissolved her disc, and said, “Please tell me you know what’s wrong with that sentence.”

The frazzled Christian Gray wannabe stood up and said, “You will not be disrespectful to me, slave!”

A whip appeared in his hand out of nowhere and he prepared to strike it at Chelsea, but she created a shield with both her hands and until it surrounded her. Her captor struck at her shield while she yawned in boredom.

“No fair!” the black clad villain yelled while jumping up and down like an upset toddler. “You have superpowers and can fight back!”

“How do you like them apples?” Chelsea asked with a smirk.

“No, this isn’t over!” he yelled extra dramatically. “We can still make this work! Follow me or else!”

“Or else what?” Chelsea asked. “I could kill you right now if I wanted to, and I have established that I can defend myself if you threaten me with anything. I also know for a fact that none of my biological or spiritual family is in any danger. I have literally no reason to go with you. Face it. This whole setup is dumb.”

“No, it’s not!” her captor whined before pulling a maid outfit out of his coat. “Now, for your impetuousness, you have to wear this maid outfit and clean my house!”

Chelsea gagged in disgust and said, “You can’t be serious. The skirt of that dress barely even covers my ass.”

“Put it on now! I’ll watch!”

“How about no?”

Chelsea created a disc and fired it at the outfit immediately splitting it in half.

“No! No! NO!” her captor yelled once again throwing a tantrum like a small child. “It’s all ruined! You messed up everything! You have to make up for it! Come have sex with me!”

“No,” Chelsea said.

“Why not? I haven’t even tortured you! We have to go straight to the happy ending now!”

“There would be nothing happy about that ending I assure you. I’m not doing it, because one, you’re crazy. Two, I’m a Christian. I don’t believe in having sex before marriage.”

“What? You mean you’re a virgin?! That’s ridiculous!”

“Yes, clearly, that is the most ridiculous thing about this whole scenario.”

“Now, you have to have sex with me!”

“No, I don’t! See, that’s your whole problem!”

“What do you mean?”

Chelsea sighed in frustration, created another disc under her feet, sat down on it, and rode it until her light blue eyes were locked with whatever kind of eyes this character has.

“You’re clearly not getting the point, so let me explain it to you,” Chelsea said. “This whole scenario we’re in right now and your whole fantasy in general, is unoriginal and screwed up beyond comprehension.”

“No, it’s not, slave!” he replied acting completely shocked and offended. “This scenario is completely original and completely good!”

“It’s been used in every dime store novel ever made, including in 50 Shades of Gray.”

“Okay, fine, but ladies like this sort of thing. Every woman wants to be dominated by an evil man who turns out to be good.”

“No, they don’t. They might get off on it, but they really don’t.”

“Huh?”

Chelsea sighed as she prepared to give a longer explanation that she wasn’t completely confident would make this guy understand and silently wished Albina was there since she was much more competent at wordplay.

“Look,” Chelsea said. “I believe in the First Amendment and being a member of a disliked faith and disliked race of mutants that society distrusted before it fell apart, I believe in tolerance. Live and let live, you know?”

“What? Society fell apart?” he asked in shock.

“It did in my dimension. You mean you haven’t read InGodzHandz’s 330,000-word Portal fan fiction story that’s in a perpetual state of revision? And whose characters will eventually be in a separate fiction series? You monster!”

When he didn’t reply, she knew her sarcasm had fallen flat again.

“I was kidding,” Chelsea said. “But seriously, check out Portal 3. It’s long af, but it’s a great story. Anyways, ADHD is getting me off track again. That’s not the point. The point is that people have the right to tell whatever kind of story they want, but that doesn’t mean they should.”

“What?”

“People are influenced by the stories they read. That’s why in the Bible Paul makes a point of telling the Philippians and us to make sure they’re only putting true, noble, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and praiseworthy things in their minds. The stories you read influence your view of reality, and even if between believer and non-believer these beliefs about the right way to view reality vary, we can still agree that there are certain ideas we should be perpetuating and ideas we should be discouraging.”

“You say a lot of big words for a teenager. I like intelligence in a slave.”

Chelsea rolled her eyes and continued, “Your idea here in this story that women should fall in love with a man who abuses them is wrong and people need to stop pushing it.”

“It’s just harmless fun…” he complained.

“It is not harmless. Men and women have been guilty of abuse in romantic relationships since the fall of man. Bad ideas like these have consequences and victims, especially when they’re on the Internet. Any impressionable young person could read this and think this is a desirable relationship to be in or that this is a good way to go about romance. The abusers will think they’re doing nothing wrong in forcing people to do what they want, and the victims will endure abuse thinking the person will change or that they deserve it when tragically they could die as thousands of people do from this every year all over the world. I don’t believe in censorship. I never have, but people need to start pushing better ideas or people will continue to abuse or be victimized. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, but you’re being quite preachy. Aren’t you?”

“I’m too outspoken for my own good,” Chelsea with a proud smile. “It’s because I’m passionate about this. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“No, there isn’t,” he said. “Since I listened to you, will you have sex with me now?”

Chelsea’s face fell in exasperation.

“Okay, that’s it,” Chelsea said. “You’re never allowed to have sex again. If you ever do, I’m gonna come back here and cut off whatever you use to reproduce.”

“You can’t do that!” he yelled.

Chelsea created two more discs in her hand and said, “I can cut through chains. You think your dick is that much stronger?”

Her captor screamed and ran away. Chelsea dissolved the discs in her hands, pulled out her phone, and took some artsy photos of the dungeon in the moonlight. When she was done, Chelsea used Elizabeth’s tear opening powers from “Bioshock Infinite” to go back to her own dimension.

#parody #fanfictiontropes

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anonymouswriter2311 · 6 years

Note

Prompt: Alice & Robin go on a road trip to Boston or New York. Little Robin ducks down and hides in the back seat. By the time they realize she’s back there, they’ve almost reached their destination and decide to just let her come with them (after calling Zelena to let her know). The whole day while touring the city, everyone keeps commenting on how cute their family is, everyone assumes Little Robin is their daughter because she basically looks like a clone of Big Robin.

Thanks for the amazing prompt, it has given me so many ideas for their crazy New York adventures, so this is only part 1!

Little Robin’s Adventures, Chapter 8: Robin’s in the City Part 1

It was the third day of the summer holidays and already Little Robin was bored out of her mind, having already achieved everything she had planned to do over the summer by the second day. All the coloring books had been colored to perfection, she had caught up on the latest episodes of My Little Pony and successfully made a mess in her usually clean bedroom…yep, she was bored and it was driving Zelena crazy.

“I’m bored…” The child whined as she stomped her foot hard on the floor, trying to get her Mother’s attention.

“And what would you like me to do about that sweetie? If I could wave a magic ward and cure you of your boredom, I would. Why don’t you come and help Mummy pot plants?” Zelena spoke without tearing her eyes away from the seed packets in her hands, trying to decide on what to plant next.

“Mom that’s boring! Can you bring me to Robin’s house?” The brunette jumped excitedly, knowing that any day spent with her two best friends would never be boring.

“Not today sweetie, Robin, and Alice are going out of town for a few days. Why don’t you go and play with Neal?” Neal, aka the only kid in town that didn’t treat her like a villain.

“I don’t wanna! He never lets me be the knight!” Robin moaned starting to get frustrated, summer holidays were meant to be fun and she was most definitely not having any fun.

“I’m sorry monkey, but you can see Robin and Alice when they come back in a few days.” Zelena finally put the seed packets down and smiled apologetically at the small child.

“Can I at least say goodbye to them?” The small brunette pouted, knowing all too well that it would work every time on her Mother.

“Fine…if we hurry we might be able to catch them.” The redhead shook her head knowingly at the child, before Little Robin took off running, Zelena following close behind.

“Robin! Pretty Alice!” Little Robin screamed as she ran up the driveway to her best friends home, that had quickly become a second home to her.

“Hey, monster!” Robin closed the trunk, before scooping the brunette into her arms, lifting her up high into the air and spinning her around playfully, sending the small brunette into a fit of giggles.

“Do you have to go away? I wanna play!” The little brunette screamed as she was being twirled around.

“It’s only for a few days Little One!” Alice couldn’t help but smile at the two brunettes. It was no secret that Robin hadn’t enjoyed the young brunette’s company at first, but Little Robin had managed to win her around eventually, making the two nearly inseparable.

“No fair!” The small brunette huffed as Robin finally put her down.

“How about you come to stay with us for a few days after we get back?” Alice knelt down to face the child, opening her arms for her.

“Promise?”

“I pinky swear!” The pair linked their pinkies together, before hugging tightly. As they broke apart, Little Robin caught a glimpse of her booster seat in the backseat, giving her a wicked idea.

“Mom, can I go to the castle?” Little Robin smiled mischievously.

“On your own? I thought you wanted to play with someone.” Zelena eyed her daughter suspiciously, taken aback by her sudden change of tune.

“No, I wanted to play with Robin and pretty Alice! Everyone else sucks!” The small brunette huffed, snarling at her Mother slightly.

“Language Little missy!” Zelena snapped not tolerating the brunette’s attitude, no matter how bored she was.

“Sorry…” The brunette mumbled, scuffing her shoe against the pavement as she looked down.

“Go play, I expect you back home for dinner and without that new-found attitude of yours!” Zelena shouted as the brunette took off, before turning to face the grinning couple “I blame you two for that.”

“Us? What did we do?” Robin asked defensively.

“You’ve become her fun parents! And I’m just Mum with the rules!” The redhead rolled her eyes at the older version of her daughter.

“You’re so much more than that and you know it! She’s just…lonely. We aren’t exactly the most popular kid in town.” Robin defended her younger self, thinking back to her lonely childhood, filled with hushed whispers behind her back and the extreme lack of friends.

“You’d tell me if you were being bullied, wouldn’t you?” Zelena quickly placed her hand on her heart, thinking the worst.

“Do you really think I’d sit back knowing that little me is getting bullied?” The archer raised a knowing eyebrow at her overreacting Mother. Deciding that it was best not to tell her about the visit she had paid to the parents of her tormentors to make sure that they weren’t filling their impressionable kids with false stories about her Mother.

“Point taken…what do I do?” The redhead, slumped against the car, just as Little Robin took this as her chance to sneak in the back of Robin’s car, preparing to prank the couple.

“Just cut her some slack, the more you push her to do things she doesn’t want to do, the more angry and bitter she will become.” Robin shrugged, as Alice placed a comforting hand on her fiancés back, knowing that the subject of Robin’s childhood was a sore spot.

“How did you get past it?” Zelena smiled comfortingly at her daughter, thankful that she had the older brunette here to help.

“She captured a cute blonde in a cage,” Alice smirked at the Mill’s women, before placing a sweet kiss on Robin’s neck, making the brunette blush like crazy.

“If you two come back from this little road trip of yours married, I’ll be extremely annoyed! I’ve already picked out my hat!” Zelena shook her head jokingly at the couple, before looking down at her watch. “You two should probably get going if you want to make it to New York by lunchtime.”

“Give the Kid a kiss from us?” Robin hugged her other Mother, before the pair quickly hopped into the car, not noticing the now sleeping brunette hid in the backseat.

“Have fun!” Zelena shouted, waving at the pair as they drove off.

“Bye!” Alice waved a hand out the window, before relaxing into her seat, ready for the most amazing weekend with her fiancé.

“This is going to be the best weekend ever! I’ve always wanted to go to New York…well Tilly did anyway.” Alice reached over to intertwine her fingers with Robin’s, happy that their car was an automatic meaning Robin didn’t need her right hand.

“Henry took me once when I was about six, we went to Central Park, watched a play, ate hot dogs! It was so much fun…too bad Little Robin probably won’t have that day now.” Robin smiled sadly as she glanced briefly at her love.

“We could always bring her one day!” Alice jumped excitedly in her chair, hoping to cheer up her fiancé.“You’re worried about her aren’t you?” The blonde whispered when she saw the small frown on lips.

“A little…I just know how she feels, from the age six to eleven, I was so angry. Nobody wanted to know me, let alone be my friend.” The archer vented, squeezing the blonde’s hand tightly.

“Because of who your Mother was?”

“Partly…kids can be cruel. I wish I could just be there with her, hold her hand and tell her that what they are saying doesn’t matter, that she’s not the product of evil…” The archer shrugged, stroking the back of Alice’s hand with her thumb.

“Robin…” The blonde whispered, squeezing tightly.

“I know…us being with her is weird enough. She needs to live through this, it makes her…me.”

“I was going to say, what happens in school won’t matter. That won’t be what she thinks of when she gets older, not when she has us to make all the bad days good.” Alice chirped, leaning over to peck the brunette’s cheek lovingly.

“I love you sometimes.” Robin couldn’t help but turn to face the blonde as they stopped at a red light.

“Only sometimes…” Alice whispered as she moved closer, closing the distance between them.

“Gross…” Little Robin moaned, waking up to find the couple kissing.

“Robin!” Alice squealed as she quickly turned around to see the little brunette smiling brightly at her.

“Hey…” Little Robin gave the couple a small wave, as Robin quickly found a place to pull over.

“What do you think you’re doing here? Does Zelena know? Of course, she doesn’t, we are too sneaky for that.” Robin scolded, turning around in her seat to face the brunette.

“How?” Alice asked calmly.

“I climbed in the back while you were talking to Mom…I was planning on surprising you sooner, but I fell asleep.” The child admitted, ready for the telling off she was about to receive.

“Kid that’s not cool! I know that summer is boring, but you can’t just run away like that!” Robin shouted loudly, before taking a deep breath calming herself down. “Sorry…”

“You said it yourself…nobody, there likes me.” Little Robin teared up slightly, bringing her knees up to her face.

“Kid…” Robin moaned, feeling horrible, as Alice climbed into the back seat to comfort the small child.

“Please don’t bring me back…I’ll be good.” Little Robin begged the blonde, as she cuddled up next to her.

“Robin…” Alice begged the older brunette, a small pout on her face.

“Our plans…” The archer whined.

“Can wait until our next trip, we could give her that trip that Henry gave you.” The blonde suggested as the excited brunette started to squirm in her lap.

“Fine, but only because we are too far out to turn back!” The brunette huffed, as the pair in the back cheered loudly. “Buckle up you two.” Robin shook her head, as she started up the car again.

“Yay! This is going to be so cool.” Little Robin shouted.

“You should probably call Zelena.” Robin shared a knowing look through the rear view window.

“Mom is going to kill me…” The little brunette mumbled nervously as she clung to the blonde next to her.

“She’ll be fine, I promise.” Robin turned to smile quickly at the brunette, before turning her focus back to the road.

“Hey Zelena…I’ve got something to tell you, but you might not like it.”

Zelena freaked out apologetically, knowing how much they had been looking forward to their weekend away to celebrate their engagement. She had cursed and shouted, and even offered to drive up to New York to get her, but Alice had assured her that everything was fine and that Little Robin would fine with them. Begrudgingly, after being sweet-talked by Alice, Zelena finally agreed to allow Little Robin to stay with them for the weekend.

“So, what are we going to do first?” Little Robin asked as she flopped down on the rose petal covered bed. “What’s with all the flowers?”

“Don’t worry about it Kid…” Robin muttered red in the face, as Alice sent her a loving smile, silently communicating with her that all these romantic efforts wouldn’t be forgotten.

“We’re pretty close to Central Park and I hear they have a home of animals!” Alice jumped excitedly throwing herself onto the bed next to the small brunette.

“Home of animals?” The brunette questioned her older self confusingly, something she did whenever she didn’t understand what her blonde best friend had meant.

“She means the zoo.” Robin shook her head at the pair while putting the suitcases in the closet. “We’ll have to get you some clothes today Kid, they seem to be one thing you didn’t take into consideration in your master stowaway plan!”

“I wasn’t exactly planning to be a stowaway! I fell asleep.” Little Robin blushed.

“Late night My Little Pony marathon again?” The older brunette teased, knowing all too well that Little Robin had wanted to keep her obsession with the talking ponies under wraps.

“Robin!”

“I didn’t know you liked that show! I love it!” Alice sat up excitedly, pulling the brunette onto her lap.

“It’s okay I guess…”

“Speaking of ponies, are we going to the home of animals or not?” Robin joked, winking at the pair.

***

“Robin! Lift me up! I can’t see the lion!” The little brunette jumped excitedly, her grip on the archers hand tight.

“C’mere Kid!” Robin rolled her eyes, letting go of Alice’s hand to scoop the little brunette into her arms, before lifting her over her head and onto her shoulders. “Better?”

“Yep! Woah, they are so cool!” Little Robin threaded her fingers through the brunette’s braid, holding on tightly, but not tight enough to hurt her.

“You know Kid, lions are pretty important to our family.” The archer spoke as they began to walk to the next animal pen.

“Really?”

“Yep, the lion is our father’s family crest…” Both of the Robin’s smiled sadly, as Alice snaked her arm around the older brunette’s waist. “Alice has a pretty interesting book at the house, we should have a little read of it when we get home.”

“Cool!”

“Robin’s! Bunnies! Bunnies!” Alice jumped excitedly before taking off running towards the small pen filled with a new litter of rabbits, just slightly bigger than the ones bouncing around their backyard.

“Can I go see the bunnies?” Robin gently banged Older Robin’s head gently, before she was quickly and carefully lifted up high and placed on the ground.

“Careful!” Robin shouted as Little Robin took off running.

“They are so cute!” Little Robin squealed as she sat down beside Alice. “This one looks just like Simon!” The small brunette coed as she gently lifted the small rabbit into her lap.

“Only a little smaller.” Alice agreed as she plucked her own little rabbit into her arms. “How old are they?” The blonde asked the zookeeper in charge of the rabbits.

“Few weeks, you seem to know how to handle them. Do you have a rabbit of your own?” The female zoo keeper asked as she knelt down to pet the rabbit sleeping in Little Robin’s lap.

“Yeah, we have a couple litters hopping around back home,” Alice explained as more little bounced over to the pair.

“That must be fun, having little bunnies hopping around.” The zookeeper winked at the small brunette, who giggled slightly before nodding.

“Hey, you two, smile!” Robin called over, forcing the two girls to look over just as Robin captured multiple pictures on her phone. “Perfect!”

“Come and see the rabbits!” Little Robin shouted, waving at her older self.

“I’m alright here Kid,” Robin shrugged, not being the biggest fan of the hopping creatures. “I was thinking we could go get ice cream? What do you say, Kid?”

“Yay!” The small brunette gently sat the small rabbit in her lap onto the ground before running over to the brunette, jumping into her arms, allowing Robin to swing her around before settling her on her hip.

“Coming babe?” Robin called over to Alice who was still fully engrossed with the small creatures.

“Yep…sorry little ones,” The blonde gently scooted all the rabbits away, allowing room for her to stand.

“Excuse me…” The zookeeper gently touched Alice’s arm, forcing her to stop. “Can I just say that you three make the cutest little family! Your little girl looks just like her Mom…so adorable!” The woman smiled brightly at the confused blonde.

“T-Thanks.” She said slowly, before skipping over towards the pair, a teasing smile plastered on her face.

“Finally, this one was about to start eating me.” Robin moaned as Alice finally reached them, reaching over and intertwining their fingers together.

“I was just having a very interesting conversation with the zookeeper! She thinks that we make a such a cute little family.” Alice winked at the two brunette’s who looked at her weirdly. “She said that my daughter looks just like her Mom.”

“Wait, she thought that she was…and that I was…” Robin asked in shock, as Alice dropped her hand and grabbed Little Robin from Robin.

“Yep! Now, let’s take our daughter and get her some ice cream!”

“Not funny!” Robin shouted, before running towards them.

TBC…

AO3

#Little Robin #Little Robin’s Adventures #madarcher #curious archer #curiousarcher #curious archer ff #mad archer #alice jones #alice x robin #alice in wonderland #robin mills #robin hood #once upon a time #once upon a time ff #prompt #send me prompts #TBC

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mangled-dreams · 6 years

Text

Sins of the Mother.

So this is going to be a mini series that I’ve had in my head for a while. I had to get it out. I don’t plan on it being anywhere near as long as Dealings with a Devil, but I hope you enjoy it non the less.

Chapter One: Collection.

Every individual born into your father’s lineage is doomed, or so what you’ve been taught your whole life. Never make meaningful connections, try your best to not fall in love, don’t start a family; all things you’ve been told by your elders, even your own father. As a child you never questioned the tales your family would spin as if they were nighttime stories.

As you grew older you questioned it more, grew more defiant of a curse that seemed to rule the lives of your family. You especially hate it because it’s never clear if the chosen one is female or male or of what age. You’d hope the demon, or devil, whatever it is doesn’t have a disposition for pedophilia.

Trinity, your younger sister, is almost ten years younger than you. She’ll graduate high school this school year and plans to go to college to be a nurse or veterinarian. You won't allow anyone to derail her bright future. There there are the twins, Ollie and Fern. You'd been nearly eighteen when they made their grand debut into life.

It’s tough enough that your mother passed away when Ollie and Fern were two years old and you'd just finished high school when you took on the role of mother for them and Trinity. Your dad helps with paying the bills and doing chores until the other could help, but after losing your mother he became a different person.

The carefree father you’d loved and cherished all by vanished. As much as you mourned his change you felt worse for Trinity, Ollie, and Fern. Trinity was hit the hardest. Shew as still so impressionable and lost after your mom passed and your father basically lost all reason for life. You knew he still loves and cares for his children, but your mother had been his whole world. They were complete soulmates and losing her devastated him.

“Y/n!” Fern shouts running into the crafts room with Ollie chasing after her holding up a large fat worm from the bait your grandfather recently brought over.

“Ollie, you know Fern doesn’t like worms. Go put it back. Papa Delbert will be back for those worms in a few hours.” You chastise letting Fern run behind your desk chair. Turning off your sewing machine to keep any accidents from happening you turn your full attention to Ollie.

“I just wanted to show her how fat this worm is!” Ollie whines flashing you his big green eyes. For a little boy he has the longest lashes you’ve ever seen. Sighing with a smile you pat his head.

“Put it back please. Hurry before Papa comes by and needs that worm for his trip." You say ushering the twins out of the room. You heard the front door slam closed as this is never a good thing. Last time the door slammed Trinity came home to tell you she'd been assaulted by some little punk with little respect for a woman's boundaries. You just about ripped his balls off and fed them to him in front of his friends and his family members.

His momma got a new image of her son that day. But that's not why the door slams this time.

"Y/n! Y/n! Where are you?" It's your father. He sounds so frantic it frightens you.

"Dad? What's going on? Is everything okay?" You ask rushing to the stairs and look down the railing at your father. His eyes are wide and have a slight craze to them you've only seen once before. Your heart drops slightly. "D-Dad?"

"He's here." He whispers and you know immediate who he's talking about.

"No."

Savannah Scarlet; that’s the name of the woman that doomed your whole family to this pseudo life of perpetual caution and fear. You hadn’t believed the family curse until the devil came to collect his price.

Story goes nearly three centuries ago your grandmother, however many greats need to be added you don’t care, made a deal with a demon. Over the years the contents of the deal has changed and morphed into something that sounds true, but no one knows if it is. The only important thing is that a deal was struck and a descendant of her blood is doomed to a coupling with said hellish being of uncertain background.

Staring at the ground under your feet you curse your rotten luck. Of course the whole bullshit with the deal would have to come to fruition during your life time. Men, women, even the children are lined up side by side.

After your father had come home to gather everyone in the house, you'd been taken to the Stone Manor. Only direct descendants are allowed to inherit the family estate. You're great aunt Victoria currently is owner of the manor and the majority of the family wealth.

Fern and Ollie hold hands looking to you for comfort. You ignore the instructions you'd been given to stand straight, to hold that position until the end, and instead turn to your worried siblings. You may not have birthed them, but they are your babies.

Walking over to them know crouch, not that it's really needed. Ollie and Fern are quite tall for their age and you're just short.

"Shh, it's alright, Ollie, Fern. No need for tears. See? Everyone is okay. You just haven't been to the manor before. It can be quite intimidating at first huh?" You ask stoking each child's hair a few times. "I'll have to show you my favorite room in the manor. My great-grandmother uses to let me run around and play in the grand ballroom when I was your age. She liked watching me twirl in my dresses and ribbons." You say earning a small shy giggle from Fern.

"Are you going away?" Ollie asks fearful for the possibilities. You've done your best to keep them away from the whispers of the elders, but it's in vain.

Taking a moment or two you finally give them a small half smile. "I can't say yes and I can't say no. I don't know what will happen, but know that I will do my all to keep you and Trinity and Dad safe. Okay?" You whisper kissing each on the forehead. "Now, no more tears. When all is done let's go out for some pizza! Okay?" You cheer earning small cheers from Ollie and Fern.

Trinity chimes in, "I wanna come! OOh! We should go to the bowling place with the arcade! I bet I can been Ollie at the at frog game!" She challenges instantly getting Ollie fired up.

The laughter and lighthearted banter quickly comes to a close as the doors swing open and a man you've never seen before walks in with your great-aunt Victoria hobbling next to him. You stand up but don't immediately go back to your place in line.

Looking down at the twins you smile sweetly. Patting their heads you head back to your spot between Trinity and your father. You almost challenge the stranger to call you out on not following directions.

He appears to not care.

"These are her descendants." Victoria says in her ancient voice. You watch her walk along one side of the wall then the other naming everyone off in turn.

The man looks like an ordinary person, his hair is black and slicked back leaving a few stray strands not long enough or willing to obey the gel, he has dark brown almost black almond shaped eyes. If you had to guess an ethnicity, you'd say south Asian. His mouth his pursed as he looks each person over in turn without expression.

Once they make a full pass your great aunt and the man stop where they started. The pair exchange a look for a brief moment before Victoria says, "All children and everyone over fifty two may leave the room."

Ollie and Fern look up at you with relief but it's quickly it fades when they realize your father and you still remain in the room. Trinity looks to you as well, but for a different reason. She's eighteen but still attends high school.

"Go oh, Trinity. You're still a child." You say nodding your head to her. She nods quickly taking Fern and Ollie's hands, starting off to the door when your aunt Elizabeth tells her to stop.

"Trinity is an adult, she has to stay." Elizabeth announces in her horrible nasally voice you wonder how anyone could get pass long enough to have a kid with let alone marry. Her voice and horrible personality aside you know the real reason she wants Trinity to stay as an example.

"Trinity is barely pass her eighteenth birthday, but she just started her last year in high school. She is still a child. And I will sooner kick your high priced ass then let you try an ruin her future. You should be ashamed of yourself, Elizabeth. Cassie's birthday was just yesterday and instead of trying to protect her you're ready to shove her at the feet of this...this thing. What kind of mother are you?" You snap standing in front of Trinity and the twins protectively.

Elizabeth snaps back as if you'd slapped her with your very accurate words. "I never!" She gasps looking at her much younger, prettier twin; her daughter Cassandra. It's no secret she wants to throw her own daughter at the demon and in some odd way get a deal out of it in her favor.

before any more words can be slung back and forth Victoria slams her cane on the ground silencing and refocusing attention to her. You relax instantly upon viewing your aunt. "Elizabeth, you should be ashamed of yourself. Cassandra and Trinity are far too young, too innocent for this. They are to leave with the others." Victoria decrees. You try to hide your smug smile but fail miserably.

"Thank you." Trinity whispers about ready to cry with relief. You nod your head, kiss each sibling in turn and shoo them away. Cassandra sweeps by whispering a thank you as well. You nod your head to her, shooing her off too.

Elizabeth grumbles under her breath earning a heated glare from you. You'd heard her very unflattering comments about you and about your sister. A very rare tick pops out, your head tips to the side without thought as you try to control your anger your words even.

Beside you, your father wraps his arm around your shoulder giving you a tight squeeze. "Pick your battles, Y/n." He whispers quietly. Taking a deep breath you nod your head and hold it high as another pass by your aunt and the name is made.

He is rather attractive. His face is all angles and it seems impossible how odd his shape seems to change as he walks around. You suppose if he weren't forcing you and your family into this weird Bachelor like thing, he'd be someone you'd try for.

Not that you've had any one to love on in quite sometime. Taking care of a teenager and two prepubescent twins on both sides of the gender spectrum is time consuming and leave very little time for yourself. Not that now is the right time for those kinds of thought... Wait, did he just smirk at you?

Blinking a few times you replay his expression in your mind and conclude that yes, this evil bastard smirked at you. This of course leads you to question: can he read minds?

"Edward, Oscar, Vanessa, Olivia, Daylon, Garrett, Elizabeth, Trisha, Anthony, and Jacob, please leave." Victoria says jarring you back to reality. You hadn't even noticed that the group had been thinned out so much until your father's name was called.

"Dad?" You whisper looking around to see it's only you and two others in the room. Neither of which you could imagine would handle the stress of being coupled with the demon.

"No," Garrett says shaking his head. "No, Y/n, I know what you're thinking; you can't." He orders looking from your face to Victoria and the demon. "I can't lose you too." He says.

You look at your cousin, Gabby, she's roughly your age but with a bad substance abuse issue. It'd been the tales of being forced to marry a demon that had really fucked her up. You're surprised she's been so quiet but you remember someone saying she was being medicated and going to therapy.

Then there is Marisha. She's crying, rubbing her swollen abdomen. She's pregnant with her first child with a man she loves with everything in her. You know it will destroy not only her but her husband if she's chosen, not to mention what will happen with the baby?

"I have no choice." You say defeated. You can't make either go through this. They're your family, you love them, you have to protect them just like you protect your siblings. Taking a deep breath you step forward. "Hey, asshat." Victoria and the demon look at you with interest. Your aunt looks less than pleased at your word choice. "You want a willing bride or what?" You ask sealing your fate.

For the first time since he arrived the demon smiles and says, "Well, isn't this interesting."

#Sins of the Mother #Mangled-Dreams #New story #more chapters to come #hope you enjoy #Darkiplier #reader insert #dark x reader #Dark is Damien

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perfectlyxprongs · 3 years

Text

Coconuts for Christmas

Draco moved his hand to readjust his dark shades, pushing them further up his nose to mask his eyes from the blinding glare of the sun, and settled further into his deck chair. He pushed the few light strands of hair away from his forehead and sank his feet deeper into the golden sands as he tried to relax. Sure, in a normal situation, lolling around on the beach would be at the top of his holiday to-do list, but when you’re on a beach in the middle of December, Draco couldn’t help but feel a little odd.

Draco never saw himself as the fussy sort, at least not anymore, but wasn’t the season meant to be about roaring fires and snowmen and snogging under the mistletoe; not sun, sea and sand.

‘Christmas on the beach.’ Who would have thought?

Draco rolled his eyes and, with a sigh, reclined further into his seat, allowing his eyes to close. This was the last time Potter got to choose where they spent their holidays.

“Coconut!”

The sudden squeaking voice started Draco out of his thoughts. Draco opened his eyes to see a bright wash of turquoise coming towards him and Harry. Teddy’s face was pink from the sun, his four teeth showing in his large grin as he dropped his latest addition to his collection of ‘coconuts’ in front of Draco.

“No Ted,” Draco sighed for what felt like the tenth time that morning. “That’s a rock.”

The young toddler's face contorted into a face of confusion and he tilted his head as he picked up his ‘coconut.’ He frowned as he rolled it around in his chubby hands before letting out a petulant huff and making an attempt at throwing it away, although it only rolled a short distance. His brown eyes roamed over the beach before they lit up as he spotted something and pounced on it with an excited squeal. Draco dropped his head back with a groan as another random item was shoved in his face.

“Coconut?”

Draco quirked a blonde brow. “No. Seashell.”

“Coconut.” Teddy argued, his cheeks turning red with frustration. He cradled the shell to his chest as tears welled up in his eye. Draco sighed, unable to bear the sight of his cousin in tears, and beckoned him over. Teddy waddled over unsteadily, she shell still clasped in his hands. Draco pulled Teddy onto his lap and brushed the rapidly changing platinum hair back with his hand.

“Alright Tedward, I think it’s time for a little life lesson,” Draco sighed, summoning an actual coconut from somewhere on the beach. “This is a coconut,” he explained, holding it out to a delighted Teddy. “And this,” he elaborated, sweeping his arm out in front of him, “is literally everything else in the world.”

Just then, a group of bikini clad women passed by, laughing and chattering among themselves. Teddy watched them pass with apparent internet, his platinum hair flooding with a shade of pink that matched one of the women’s bikinis. Draco half considered covering this impressional little cousin’s eyes, and he was about to when Teddy chirped up again.”

“Coconuts!” He announced, his excited grin spreading wider than before.

Draco threw his arms up and went back to his sunbathing, scowling as the unmistakable sound of stifled laughter came from his left. “Keep laughing, Potter.” He drawled as he glared at his boyfriend, even if it was masked by the dark tint of his glasses. “You can be the one to deal with the mess when he goes home and calls Andromeda a coconut.”

Harry stretched next to him and grinned, enjoying himself a little too much for Draco’s liking. “Oh come on, he’s just excited.” His grin stretched further across his face as he reached for Draco’s hand and held it in his own. “At least someone is enjoying Christmas on the beach.”

Draco smirked as he began to rub small circles on the back of his partner's hand. “I guess it’s not all bad.”

Harry’s head perked up at his words, brows creasing together in confusion. “Is that so? Then why have you been acting so miserable since we got here?”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve been miserable,” Draco argued. “I just think there’s something to be said about tradition, that’s all.”

“Tradition?” Harry laughed.

Draco hummed and stretched in response, being extra careful to ensure that Potter got an eyeful of his lean, toned frame. “Oh, you know,” he purred. “Baking gingerbread men, snogging under the mistletoe, shagging on our bearskin rug in front of the fireplace...normal Christmas stuff.”

He suppressed a grin as he heard Harry’s audible swallow and the deep bob of his adams apple. Emerald eyes darkened and roved over Draco’s body with a new found urgency. “You know what, let’s cut the beach trip short and go shag on that rug that you seem so fond of.”

“Hmm now that you say that...I think I’ll decline.” Draco drawled, settling back on his chair and resting his hands behind his head, a smirk taking over his pink lips. “You’ll simply have to wait for your beloved fireplace shag.”

Harry’s lips morphed into a pout. “For how long.” He whined, shifting restlessly in his own chair, settling his dropped hand on the armrest.

Draco stayed silent for a moment, tapping his finger against his chin just to make a point. “How about until our next out of season get away,” his tone haughty. “Easter in the Himalayas, anyone?”

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karumas · 6 years

Note

Transphobic song...? No you’re just reaching sit down

For anyone who might be reading this- this was about a comment I left on a post about Kesha where I said “Are you all just going to ignore her transphobic song called ‘Grow a Pear’?”.I’m not reaching, and I won’t sit down. The song is offensive, plain and simple. Not only is it transphobic, it’s also blatantly sexist. If you really thought you had a light to stand on, you wouldn’t have gone on anon, but I’ll humor you and elaborate anyway:“But you cry ’bout this and whine ’bout that. When you grow a pear, you can call me back.”“Yeah I think you’re hot, I think you’re alright. But you’re acting like a chick all the time. You were cool and now you’re not just like that. When you grow a pear, you can call me back.”“ I signed up for a man, but you are just a bitch.”These are lines straight from the song, unedited, which pretty clearly imply that “whining” and “crying” are “acting like a chick”, reinforcing both the idea that men can’t be vulnerable and that being emotional should only be associated with women. If that wasn’t enough for you, here are the especially transphobic lines in the song:“I just can’t date a dude with a vag”“And no, I don’t want to see your mangina”Do I really need to explain why I deem this offensive and transphobic? These lines are derogatory and used in a demeaning manner. Like it or not- Kesha is a celebrity and has the ability to influence her listeners, particularly impressionable kids. If for some reason you’re still skeptical, this isn’t the first time Kesha has displayed transphobic and sexist behavior:In this interview, Kesha states this about transgender people:“Freaks are what make everything mildly more interesting in life but with trannies, they make me want to be a better woman. I see these men who have way better bodies than I do, more beautiful faces, better complexions, beautiful makeup, and they’re more fun than any person I’ve met in my life. They make me feel like I’m not a very good woman.” This isn’t even the only interview where she has made similar statements.Furthermore, in that first interview, she goes on to admit that she is a self-proclaimed pervert and that her favorite thing in the world is cat-calling men on the street. I don’t know about you, but personally, I don’t support people like that.In conclusion, I believe Kesha is at the very least misinformed and ignorant on trans people, but it is inexcusable since she claims to be a supporter of the LGBT community as a whole, and has even received the HRC Visibility Award at the Nashville Equality Dinner in 2016. To many people, she is an icon, however, this doesn’t undo the harm she has done, and those who don’t support her for these reasons I’ve listed are more than justified. Her sexist and transphobic behavior should be acknowledged by both her fans and herself.

#and this isn't even bringing up her fixation on gay men which is kind of creepy to say the least #she even said she wishes she was a gay man #like #im surprised more people haven't talked about this #asks #answered #transphobia #cissexism #sexism #long post #Anonymous

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swampgallows · 6 years

Text

i just woke up, it’s close to noon here, five hours is good enough i guess. i keep thinking about college and how fucking suicidally depressed i was then and how ive spent half of this year being unemployed and generally just struggling to take care of myself in the most banal and basic ways possible, and how depression really does just delete years from your life. you live through them in a daze, you’re already a ghost, you’re already dead. questing in wrath of the lich king is honestly some of the last shit i remember concretely before going into a two year gray area of passing my classes and nothing else. i remember breaking up with my boyfriend because he chose raiding over me. i dont want to talk about it again. the memory is still painful. still, even still, ten years later. and in late 2008 i was attacked in my dorm room and i was screaming and my roommates thought i was being a big ol slut. they thought any guy that came over was someone i was fucking. when i went to blizzcon in 2008 and my brother stayed in my dorm they thought i was fucking him too until i told them he was my little brother. they tried so fucking hard to suppress my interests and make me “like them”. “there’s more to life than world of warcraft and pokemon” they said as if going to college basketball games and rewatching disney movies has any more enrichment or depth beyond what i was fucking doing. my life is so full of hatred, from myself, from other people, just being fostered in me in general, and it’s only within the last few years that i’ve gotten to heal from it at all, all the time being hurt more and more

i was talking to a friend yesterday who is just 19 and thinking about where i was when i was 19, which of course puts me in 2009 again, the year i dropped out of existence, and i was telling them about how i was essentially raised by the ilk of 4chan and the piece of shit community on wow that, like, since i’m around ~liberal genderqueer~ tumblr-type spaces all the time, genuinely shocks me to remember still exists, of those fucking hypermasculine overcompensating military dudes. and we were talking about how like, nerds in general tend to have shit social skills or anxiety or are Othered in ways that have them reinforce this piece of shit pecking order where the loudest and meanest proclaim themselves the Leader and everyone just follows them because theyre too meek to challenge them or they mistake arrogance for confidence and assume any asshole crowing that loud about how Right they are all the time Must Be Right.

and i thought of my own life, my ex QP, my old friend groups, my abusive ex boyfriend, how i mistook so long their malice as strength, how i was duped by their self-aggrandizement. they had no skills, no talents, no girlfriend (except when i dated them), no women in their lives in general, no real friends they could count on (except, for my abuser, an older man with 3 children and a brand new divorce whose house he muscled and manipulated himself into—”i cant even bear to be in the old master bedroom anymore”—and my abuser promptly MOVED HIMSELF INTO IT) no hobbies, and the one or two hobbies that they had—fishing, video games—they were fucking less-than-passable at. my ex-qp wasn’t good at video games. he would use cheat codes or just play the strongest character and rely on everyone else to pick up his slack. warrior, carry, tank, what have you; all of us his underlings to support him to victory—”I’m doing all of the damage and getting none of the kills”—he would whine, oblivious to the concept of teamwork and seeking credit within the only realm he had a semblance of succeeding in.

anyway so when i first joined tumblr i swung the pendulum in the other direction because i absolutely had to, it was for my survival to become a virulent feminazi as they put it, and i was obnoxious about it, and i reposted rape statistics all the time and challenged people all the time because i had to. i had to let it overtake me in order to purge all of the 10+ years of toxic social conditioning that places like 4chan and their little infestations in WoW and all of my abusive partners instilled in me. i had to be vocal about rape this and sexual assault that because i spent the better part of my adolescence trying to laugh away the fact that i was raped as a child, trying to make jokes about my “delicious flat chest” and pedobear and “surprise buttsecks/it’s not rape if you yell surprise” and “delicious loli”; some of the images i had willingly saved on my ancient hard drive are absolutely harrowing to go through now as an adult knowing my mushy impressionable 14 year old traumatized mind was trying to cope with and gloss over what had happened to me and with the future i was facing as a budding adolescent in this kind of environment. men didnt want to be responsible for what happened to me or with what would happen to me, it made them uncomfortable for me to talk about it, so i was told to laugh it away, that nobody cares that i was raped, that i was stronger if i could just laugh about it, that no topics were beyond reproach or off limits, and that if i wasnt desensitized to my own suffering then i was weak, i was a sheep, i was a burden, i was letting my emotions get the better of me.

obviously, tumblr as a whole DIRECTLY acts in opposition of this: everything is rooted in our traumas, which we are expected to lay bare for all to be taken seriously: 4chan demanded that we invalidate the trauma by making a joke of it and allowing the masses to pick it apart for their own entertainment, to become part of the anonymous “legion” by offering up our individuality to be consumed by the group (as a currency of “lulz”, basically); tumblr, reflexively, demands we validate the trauma by making it an open and public integral asset to our identity, to have easily digestible and categorized characteristics so as to fit into the tumblr hierarchy of needs, their own misinterpreted facsimile and microcosm of existing systematic oppression, and obtain a sort of fixed currency of privilege or “woke points” dependent on identity politics. so i definitely needed to purge my previous conditioning with this reclamation of my identity as a survivor, etc, and had about 7 years of misplaced anger and fury condensed into a good two or so years instead, and even now im still parsing details.

it wasnt until i was 22 that i had even heard the term asexuality and it wasnt until i was 25 that i realized i was bi (or “could be” bi), even though i had already been in love with and sexually active with women years prior lmao. i had been told by every possible source that having a dick inside me would change my life and change my outlook and change me into a better person or whatever the fuck, that i would “understand” and “grow up” and “become a woman” or whatever and guess what it did fucking NOTHING, just like every teen drama romance or whatever tries to stress over and over, sex is not a magical lifechanging event that hands you a million dollars and a healthy brain. it changes your life in some ways and it’s definitely not something to be taken lightly but in no way is it a cure for anything.

i dont know where i’m going with this, im just fucking pissed off about my life, im pissed off that healing takes so long and that i had to do any of it in the first place. im so pissed about all of my time wasted with this fucking piece of shit body and fucking piece of shit brain and i wish i could just go back to work and be a functional human being but im like just a short leap away from doing any of that. i have to get in touch w my previous HMO once the new year starts now that im confirmed for medi-cal, and i should have done it months ago, but i have to just accept that this whole time ive been not USELESS but just utterly CONSUMED by self-preservation, that it is taking most of my effort to want to be alive and stay on this planet any longer. especially now with my teeth bugging me so bad because i cant fucking take care of myself so im grinding my teeth and clenching my jaw and i guess eating improperly or what have you idont fucking know. im going to buy a waterpik even though it’s fifty dollars and i have not made ANY MONEY in the last 6 months or done ANY of what i wanted to do and i still have a number of commissions needling at me that i genuinely like cant fucking even look at withotu fucking hitting myself and crying, and im seriously not trying to make fucking excuses, i am so fucking ashamed and consumed by self-hatred about this, this has been a problem for me SINCE COLLEGE where i was an ART MAJOR that i had to fucking beat the shit out of myself to try to draw anything “seriously”, and i do mean literally beating myself, bludgeoning myself with my morris sticks and smacking myself in the face/head and clawing at my skin, and i fucking hate it

i just know i need like SO MUCH recovery or healing or whatever the fuck, i feel so long overdue for very basic shit, and part of me feels like a withering plant, like pouring water over dry leaves thinking it’s just going to saturate itself and be instantly rejuvenated. im losing leaves in the process, as it were, and getting no “water” all this time. i feel like i’m in drought mode. these last six months are me basically conserving all i have, toeing away from the edge of the cliff because iw as so ready yall i was so fucking ready, i was ready to jump off, i spent whole lunch hours just ready to fucking leap, staring down the void, staring at the winding road that went up the mountain, staring at the deer who stared back at me, hiding my face from Adults who treated me like a wind-up doll, i just couldnt take it, ic ouldnt be somewhere that sterile, i couldnt be spending so much of my life getting so little back, i coudlnt see my friends ever, i couldnt breathe, but in general my brain is sick and i need to heal from all of these things, i need to figure out how i can cope with being alive because i am going to be alive at least a little longer and i need to not fear and crave death simultaneously. i do not want to die, I DO NOT want to die, but i cannot live in a constant state of recuperating. my life has just felt like the Shutting Down... screen for the last 2 years.

NEED a new dentist NEED my teeth fixed PLEASE GOD open the stem cell dentin treatment to clinics worldwide GOD fix my TEETH PLEASE let me REGROW my TEETH NEED therapy NEED to fix my brain NEED to figure out how i can cope with being unable to support myself in this shit fucking economy NEED TO RECOVER NEED TO GET BETTER PLEASE IM FUCKING SUFFERING

#blathering

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xsparklingravenx · 7 years

Text

The Dragon’s Curse

Title: The Dragon’s Curse

Fandom: Tales of Berseria

Characters: Eizen, Edna, Magilou, Zaveid, Velvet, Rokurou, Eleanor, Laphicet

Rating: T

Word Count: 8,764

Summary: Legends say that the Rayfalke Spiritcrest is a ghost ship that sails the seas in search of the man who would one day call himself its captain. Eizen and Edna know better. Running from a past he left behind as he hurtles towards a fate he knows he will never escape, Eizen throws himself into a life on the sea, dogged constantly by the curse that brings misfortune to him and those around him

.A chance encounter with a travelling menagerie however changes Eizen and Edna's course. With the promise of a charm that might just fix Eizen's curse, all they want in return is a trip to Port Zekson. But it's Port Zekson that Eizen is running from, and a return trip might be all that is needed to bring him on a collision course with someone he left behind...

Part 1 / AO3

Legends said that the Rayfalke Spiritcrest was a ghost ship that sailed the seas in search of the man who would one day call himself its captain. It was a story that passed through the lips of many a sailor that came for a pint to drink in weary taverns, one that Eizen heard being discussed as he leant against the wall of a pub tucked away in Port Reneed. Tonight’s variation included a wildly imaginative addition as to how the original crew must have met their ends, and as Eizen listened in, he wondered how many drinks the storyteller must have had.

“Right now it’s anchored near here, you know.” another man said, his cheeks coloured pink by alcohol. “Saw it myself I did. Wouldn’t know it was no ghost ship by how well maintained it looks, only reason I knew it was the Spiritcrest was ‘cause of the fancy dragon emblem on it.”

“I thought I heard whispers.” a woman said, her face lit up with excitement. “Said it just drifted by and came to a stop, has anyone had a look around it yet?”

“Are you joking?” the storyteller said, horrified. “Ain’t you heard a word I said? The Reaper’s Curse came down and lead its last crew to their watery grave! Anyone who takes one step on that ship is a fool.”

They began to squabble, arguing over how no one could know if they were the ship’s destined captain if they never got a good look at it. Eizen scoffed and pulled a coin from his pocket, flipping it over and catching it again. When he looked down, the head of the demon lord Dhaos stared back up at him. Tails again, as it would always be.

If only they knew. He pushed himself from the wall to make his leave and walked out of pub like a ghost, not one person so much as giving him a second glance. It was for the best, he knew, but he couldn’t help but wish that he could sit down with the impressionable lot and tell them all about the Spiritcrest, how she creaked affectionately as she turned on the sea, how the sails rippled like oceans themselves when the wind hit them in the right way, just how sturdy and strong she was. There was nothing to be done, though. Not a thing in the world would make them see him, let alone hear what he had to say.

Port Reneed was alive at night, people buzzing around the market as though it was the middle of the day. Eizen made his way through, his attention mostly on dodging the people who tried to walk straight into him, but stopped when a stall caught his eye. Plush toys shaped like various animals hung from it like fair ground prizes, the fancies of children no doubt.

There was one shaped like a squirrel, its tail long and fluffy. He took off one of his gloves and reached for it to test how soft it was, and once satisfied with the feel, pulled it down. The stall owner didn’t look twice, but Eizen judged the price and then scattered some coins in front of him. He wouldn’t notice them until Eizen had already made his way out of the area, but it didn’t matter. The toy was paid for, and his conscience clear as a result.

With his purchase safely in hand, Eizen melded back into the crowd. Nearby, a man in the middle of a business deal burst into a coughing fit that nearly choked him, bringing his important conversation to a grinding halt. Elsewhere, a woman putting away stock for the next day found the majority of her foodstuffs to be spoiled. A townsperson bumped into a child, only to realise that the boy had robbed him. All that and more, just because Eizen had decided to walk among them.

He went back to the port. It was busy there, drunken sailors returning to their ships, some with women, some with alcohol, some just to rest their heads. They could be fascinating when he took the time to pay attention to them, but someone else had caught it instead. His gaze found the girl sat upon a cargo crate, her body turned away from him so she could face the sea. Propped open on her shoulder was a peach coloured umbrella that hid most of her from view.

Ordinarily, someone would have told her off by now, snapped at her to get off of precious cargo, but no one batted an eyelid because she was just as invisible as he was. He approached her with gentle footfalls even though he knew she was hardly the type to startle easy anyway.

“Nice view?” he asked.

The girl turned to face him. She looked near identical to him, the two of them sharing the same golden hair, the same stern curve of their mouths, their eyes the same shade of blue. She blinked once, slowly, like a cat, and sighed. “Could be better. Finally back from moron-watching?”

“Yeah. Listened in on some interesting stuff too.” Eizen paused for a second, crossing his arms against his chest. “Did you know the Rayfalke Spiritcrest is nearby?”

His sister smiled, a wry thing that looked more cruel than sweet. Though she was named for a flower, Edna was anything but delicate. She had learned the smile from him, but she’d honed it far more carefully. “You don’t say? I hear that ship is spooked by ghosts and rats and all other things gross.”

“Oh yeah? Well get this. I heard that there’s a curse on that ship, and the previous crew all threw themselves overboard when it took hold. Stories say that they preferred an icy death in the seas to the calamity that would no doubt await them if they lived.”

“I hear there’s an idiot human out there that the ship is waiting for.” Edna continued. “Apparently it’s so desperate for a taste of what a real captain could do.”

“Well, I hear that maybe, just maybe,” Eizen said, nudging her umbrella away to swing an arm around her shoulders, “that it might be a pair of malakhim that haunt the ship’s cabins.”

She made a noise of annoyance as she was forced to put her umbrella down. She was a scrawny thing, his sister, but appearances meant nothing when her tongue was sharper than a blade. “Nope. I’m pretty sure it’s definitely sailing around for a human captain. The ship’s probably sick of all your boring chatter and weird lectures. No one cares about detailed explanations of your plans to tunnel under the entire world.”

Eizen huffed, his pride somewhat stung. “It’d be viable, and a useful way to get around. But, I guess if you really think that way, I won’t give you this.”

He revealed the plush squirrel just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of it before hiding it away in the folds of his jacket. She tried to look unimpressed, but Eizen knew her well enough for her to see the way her eyes widened in longing. “What was that?” she asked, even though he knew that she knew. “It looked stupid.”

“Yeah, real stupid. Ugly too, who’d want something like this?” he pulled the toy out again and held it up to the nearest streetlamp. He scrunched up his face in mock disgust. “The fur isn’t even quality grade. What trash.”

Edna reached for it with her free hand, only able to get near it because of the added height of the crate. Still it remained out of her reach. “Eizen,” she whined. “Let me see it. Closer.”

“Wait, you actually want it?”

“Nope.” Edna said, but she was twisting the handle of her closed umbrella in an agitated manner. The mascot that already hung from it – the Normin she carried so faithfully with her – bobbed as she did so. “Where did you get it?”

“The market.” Eizen replied, finally giving it up to let her examine it more closely. She rubbed the squirrel’s tail against her cheek, her face set in a frown. “They had others, but they were even worse than this one.”

“And this one’s pretty bad, if you ask me. It’s got a tear in its back.” Edna said. She was still rubbing the tail against her cheek.

Of course it had a tear in it. He could have sworn it was perfect when he picked it up, but nothing was ever sacred when he was concerned. “I could take it back.”

“What’s the point? We’ve got it now, and you paid for it, right? May as well keep it.”

She must really have loved it to be saying that. “If you say so,” he said, feigning defeat. “So, you heard anything while you’ve been sat here?”

Edna shrugged. “Not a ton. There was some chatter about a menagerie or something, but as far as I could gather, it’s about stupid humans doing stupid things, so really it’s just gonna be a whole bunch of stupid.”

“A show?” Eizen considered the concept. He knew of circuses, of theatre shows and stand up comedies, but a menagerie was something he hadn’t encountered before. A collection of exotic animals, rarities in the modern world or just uncommon; it could have been a point of interest. “When?”

Edna shrugged, hopping off the crate and closing her umbrella up. “Tomorrow, I think. Why? Don’t tell me you actually want to go.”

“So what if I do?” Edna peered up at him with eyes that were evidently judging him. “Look, it’s no exhibition on priceless artefacts, but I’ll take entertainment when I can find it. We should go before we leave the port.”

“Entertainment?” she laughed, her ponytail bobbing at the side of her head. “That’s a strong word. You’re so lame, Eizen.”

“Bold words for someone who can’t let go of a plush toy.” Eizen said.

She punched him in the arm and hugged the squirrel to her chest. “The toy sucks and we’re going to your stupid menagerie. Now let’s go home, we’ve got to row our little boat all the way back.”

“You mean I’ve got to row all the way back.”

“Exactly. I’m tired.” She paused, turning half way. “By the way. Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome, I guess.” Eizen said. He saw the side of her mouth quirk up in her favourite sardonic grin before she turned completely and walked away. He followed, the two of them picking their way through the people, two earth malaks amongst an entire town of humans.

He thought of the drunkards in the pub, dreaming of plundering the Rayfalke Spiritcrest, and wondered what they would think if they knew the truth. The curse was real, bringing bad luck and hardship to anyone around him, human or malak alike. Not even his own sister was safe from it, and every day he questioned himself. Why had he let her come along as he sailed the seas? Why had he dragged her along when he’d decided to run from every problem he had been the source of?

If he was truthful with himself, though, he knew why. The answer was found in the malevolence that he harboured deep inside, hidden away from his sister, or in the dragon emblem that decorated the Rayfalke Spiritcrest. A reminder. Fate was inescapable, and he wasn’t going to stand scared of it. Edna was all he had, his only family, and though he had thought about abandoning her for her own safety, in the end he hadn’t been able to do it. If he went, she was coming with him. He wanted to show her the world before he eventually succumbed, and aboard their ship, they were making a good job of it.

He’d leave her before he ever became a dragon. He’d seen the destruction they wrought, the way they damaged the malakhim they left behind, the ones who had loved them so deeply before they had become twisted. Putting his sister through that fate was unimaginable.

---

Eizen quickly realised that, much to his disappointment, menagerie didn’t mean the same thing to the people running it as it did to him. Magilou’s Menagerie was less a collection of exotic animals and much more a collection of exotic people, and as he stood watching the titular Magilou force her suffering companion to “Act! Like! A! Dove!” he found his interest sorely waning.

The show had barely begun, and already Edna looked like she wanted to gouge her own eyes out. They were stood off to the side even though most of the hall’s seats were empty; Eizen didn’t want to get into the problem of taking a seat only for someone else to think that it was free. He’d offered to let Edna sit on his shoulders, but she’d heartily refused. He had a feeling she’d declined more because she literally didn’t care rather than because she had a decent view where she stood.

Apparently this section was supposed to be comedy, which was funny because Eizen hadn’t cracked a single laugh in the fifteen minutes they’d been watching. The rest of the limited crowd seemed to be enamoured, though. He had a feeling it was less to do with it being amusing and more to do with the pinkish blush on the cheeks of Magilou’s assistant. Humans were so easily won over, Eizen thought. Maybe that was something admirable about them.

Finally, after much badgering, the assistant finally relented with possibly the worst dove imitation Eizen had ever seen. Magilou beamed, undeterred, and threw her hands up in their air. Sparks flew from her fingertips, making the audience gasp in awe.

Edna’s attention was momentarily drawn, but only for the briefest of moments before she yawned loudly behind her hand and went back to looking bored. She obviously had realised the same thing Eizen had; this show would be full of flashy magic tricks that would no doubt have a mundane source. It was how all magic worked; it was only incredible until you knew how it worked, and Eizen was sure he’d figure it out before the show reached its end.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for your undivided attention!” Magilou called out, bowing grandly as she lavished in the attention. She was a gaudy looking thing, her frame scrawny yet elegant in a way, her clothes a mishmash of pink and purple and books of all things. She and her partner made for a visually interesting duo, the other woman tall and broader shouldered, her hair long and black and braided. “If you enjoyed that, then there’s only so much more to come! You better hold onto your hats and strap into your seats, because tonight we plan to bloooow you away!”

A gust of wind shot through the crowd as she drew out the word. A wind machine, Eizen thought. Had to be. Magilou elbowed her assistant and said, “Oh my, Velvet, would you look at the crowd we’ve got tonight?”

For a moment, Eizen was sure that the two of them looked right at him and Edna. But then Velvet looked away and sighed. “Wow. What a crowd we’ve got tonight.”

She sounded so deadpan, so uninterested, that Eizen actually smiled, finally amused. Magilou huffed and broke into a tirade about how Velvet should appreciate the audience, and their skit began anew.

Comedy wasn’t their only forte, though. Magilou’s Menagerie was four people strong, which looked small at first glance. It seemed though, for what they lacked in numbers, they made up for in character. Magilou herself had enough personality for seven people, and Velvet, though seemingly taciturn, proved to have her own wit when provoked. Once they had left the stage, a man dressed in traditional looking robes took their place. Eizen had little time for that, though, his attention swiftly drawn by the weapons the man carried. Three; a sword at his back, and twin blades at his side. He flashed the crowd a cheeky grin, and then, much to Eizen’s disappointment, pulled the daggers from their sheaths. “Hey, everyone having a good time?” he shouted at the audience. He paused long enough for them to respond, and then shook his head. “What? C’mon, I can’t hear you!”

When the audience responded in a satisfactory manner, he nodded smugly and waved. “Well, I’m gonna show you something even better! I’m Rokurou of Magilou’s Menagerie, and you lucky few are gonna get to see some real skills tonight!”

“Oh great.” Edna said. “He’s gonna wave his swords around and call it a show.”

“They’re daggers.” Eizen said, appalled.

And Edna was wrong anyway, to call it ‘waving’. The man danced with the blades, his movements smooth and choreographed and graceful. Yet there was still a sense of chaos in the piece, something manic and unhinged that Eizen could only catch glimpses off. It was in the glee of Rokurou’s expression, in the way he would suddenly divert the routine into something completely unexpected. His movements were controlled, but at the times it seemed as if he was possessed by something that had its own ideas. For the first time that night, Eizen was actually watching attentively.

“Now this,” he said, “is real entertainment.”

Edna rolled her eyes.

Unfortunately, he didn’t touch the sword on his back once. When he finished his show, he put his hand on the hilt as if he was going to pull it out, but instead he just smiled. “Want more, guys? Then I guess you’ll just have to come back next time! Thanks for watching, see you again!”

“What a tease.” Eizen huffed as Magilou returned to the stage to link the act into the next segment. Edna yawned again, loudly, and then glanced up above to the rafters. Eizen watched as Magilou did her part and then danced off the stage, the final member coming to take her place.

The girl looked somewhat out of place in the show. Unlike the wild looking Magilou, the stoic Velvet, or the chaotic Rokurou, this girl exuded a calmer aura. Her ginger hair was tied in girlish pigtails, and her dress was ladylike and elegant. She stepped to the middle of the stage and addressed the crowd.

“Hello, ladies, gentlemen.” she said, her voice steady and relaxed. “My name is Eleanor, and I’m here to present to you a show that will leave you absolutely, positively—”

“Positutely!” Magilou hissed from off stage. The audience laughed and even Edna had a half-smile on her face.

“Um. Absolutely, positutely astounded!” Eleanor finished, a determined look on her face. She raised her arms to the audience, closing her eyes as she did so, and then the lights went dim.

“Oh?” Edna said.

A second later, something bright fizzled through the air above Eleanor’s head, sparkling white. It split into four beams of light, swirling like tendrils about her body in red, blue, green, and yellow. Her eyes snapped open and she pirouetted on the spot before collapsing to the floor, the tendrils following her smooth arc of movement. Their light diffused as she fell, but when she rose her arms again they followed her upwards, upwards, growing brighter again. She held them there for a moment, and then threw her arms outwards. The beams of light shot for the audience.

Amongst the gasps as the lights flew, Edna said, “These are malak artes.”

Eizen scoffed. “You’re giving them way too much credit. There’s no way, just an impressive light show that they’ve worked hard on. I bet if you looked around, you’d find some kind of device that lets them emit these lights. It’s simple, I’d assume. You’d just need something with—”

“No.” Edna said. She pointed up to the ceiling above Eleanor with her folded umbrella. “They’re malak artes.”

Eizen followed the point of her umbrella to the rafters. There, sure enough, was a tiny malak that looked about the size of Eizen’s thumb from where he was stood. He couldn’t make out much of the malak except that it appeared to be a little boy, and he was waving his hands in time to the tendrils that had seemingly been moving to Eleanor’s command.

Any enjoyment that Eizen had been deriving from the show vanished in that instance, replaced instead with disgust. Of course. None of the tricks in the show had been magic. They were just humans, bastard humans, who were bending a malakhim to their will.

He was about to grab Edna and haul her out of there, when the malak noticed he was being watched in the middle of an overzealous movement to send the water tendril around Eleanor’s head. He lost his balance, and if that wasn’t enough, the rafter he was stood on suddenly cracked. It split apart in a rough movement, and Eizen’s heart lurched as the boy fell fell.

The artes dispersed. Eleanor looked up in horror and shrieked.

“Eizen!” Edna shouted. Eizen didn’t think twice, didn’t think about how the malak being surprised should have been impossible if he didn’t have free will, and dashed towards the stage.

Velvet beat him to it. She all but snatched the boy out of the air, pulling him close to her chest. “Phi!” she gasped as the broken rafter clattered to the stage. Over the malak’s head, her eyes met Eizen’s. She could see him, he thought. She was looking straight at him.

Time stood still. Eleanor blinked. The audience looked at one another, confused, unknowing of what just transpired. And then the malak, Phi, waved his hands and whispered, “Thanks Velvet! Don’t stop, don’t stop, you can do it Eleanor!”

The four beams of light blinked back into existence, dancing around her body. Velvet let Phi go and kicked the rafter off the stage. Eleanor took her hands in her own. “Right, I can do this. Dance with me, Velvet?”

And before Eizen’s eyes, the solo dance turned into something intimate, something gentle and soft, while Phi stood back and conducted the lights like a musician would an orchestra. They spun around in time with them, Velvet slowly taking the lead, pulling her across the stage as the lights chased Eleanor’s skirts.

“Well what do you know.” Edna said, coming to stand beside him. “Looks like these humans aren’t as dumb as they look.”

When the dance came to an end, the audience applauded, rambunctious, wild. Magilou pranced back onto the stage like a gaudy, pink gazelle while Eleanor and Velvet made there way off. “Ladies and Gentlemen!” she cried, doing an excited little jig. “And malakhim too, thank you for your wonderful patronage tonight! While we’re done for now, there’s always more for next time, so strap yourselves in and make sure you come back next time. Whether Port Reneed or Hellawes, Loegres or Taliesin, we’ll be sure to raise the roof! Thank you, thank you, and maaaaagikazam!”

She pulled a ridiculous pose. Eizen thought that was the end of it, thought that perhaps this would be just one strange night to add to his thousand year log of memories to be forgotten about. But as everyone filed out, Magilou’s gaze fell upon him and Edna, and with a grin and a wave she said, “Hold up, you two, I think we should have a little chat!”

Phi, stood at the side of the stage, stared at them with wide, doe-like eyes, an encouraging smile on his face. Eizen glanced at Edna, who shrugged her response. Of course. He couldn’t rely on her for anything.

---

The rooms the menagerie’s members rented were nothing like their bright and wild personalities. Cheap, bland, and the very definition of temporary, Eizen wondered what kinds of rates they were being paid to perform given their tawdry lodgings. It couldn’t be much.

Magilou lounged across her bed chest down, her legs in the air behind her. The rest of the menagerie stood around, or in Rokurou’s case, leant heavily on the cabinet by the door. “What are malakhim anyway, like carriages?” he said. “You spend your whole damn life waiting for one, and then twenty show up at once.”

“Four.” Eleanor said. “We’ve met four.”

“Four, twenty, it’s the same difference.”

“I don’t think it is.” Phi said. He was sat on the edge of the bed by Magilou, swinging his legs off the side. “You’re both earth malakhim, right?” he asked, looking at Eizen. “I mean, you look like you are.”

“What gave it away?” Edna asked dryly. “And what are you?”

Phi shrugged. Magilou huffed. “Enough about him, I want to talk about me!”

“Business as usual then.” Velvet said.

“Hush! You know as well as I do that when I say ‘me’, I actually mean ‘us’.” Magilou ignored Velvet’s roll of the eyes and focused her attention on Eizen. “So! I think I speak for all of my menagerie when I say that we were surprised to see a duo of malakhim in our audience, and I think I speak doubly when I say that we were surprised to see Laphicet make such an amateur mistake like he did. In all our time performing, we’ve never had so much as a single mishap on stage! Why, I do think the two just might be connected. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Eizen shrugged. “Awful luck follows me around like a bad penny. That’s the way things go for me.” Magilou’s eyes flashed with interest. He ignored it. “So now I have a question. Why did you want to speak to us?”

She snapped her fingers in delight. Sparks flew from the tips. “Hold up.” Edna said before she could speak. “Where are you drawing your power from, if it isn’t the pipsqueak?”

Laphicet made a noise of protest. Magilou grinned deviously. From beneath her hat, something squirmed. With one stubby hand, the creature inside it lifted it, poking its head out; a normin wearing its own oversized hat and a wide smile. It jumped off her head and landed on the bed in front of her, placing its paws on its hips. “Miss Magilou has me to thank for that.” he said, haughty and high pitched. Eizen saw the longing in Edna’s gaze immediately. Whether it was to hug him or destroy him, he couldn’t be sure. “I’m the one providing all the scenery here! My name’s Bienfu, the man behind the man, the great and wondrous—!”

Edna poked her umbrella into him, sending him tumbling off the bed with a distressed cry. “Ah, that’s better.” she said. “I thought I heard buzzing. It’s stopped now.”

“I like this one.” Velvet said. Magilou giggled behind her hand as Eleanor went to rescue the normin from where he had fallen, patting his head softly.

Eizen, who was quite done with the diversions, reiterated his question once again. Magilou was happy to answer. “Don’t you think it a little strange? A ghost ship rocks into town on a dark and lonely night, and then like phantoms two malakhim show up, ready to torment and ruin the townspeople!” she gasped like she was still on stage, and then broke into a grin. “I’m joking, of course, but the point still stands. The Rayfalke Spiritcrest is something to do with you, isn’t it?”

“Of course not.” Eizen said, though he wasn’t really committed to the lie. “It’s just looking for its destined captain.”

“Hogwash!” Magilou said. “Absolute nonsense that is. If I were an ordinary girl maybe I’d buy that kind of story, but let me tell you, we at Magilou’s Menagerie are very much out of the ordinary. We are the devious, the dastardly, the deceptive, the dramatic! And we know malakhim and their ways when we see them.”

“Think she could fit anymore d’s into that sentence?” Edna asked.

Magilou ignored her and carried on. “So, with that in mind, I’ll ask again. Are you the ones who sail on that ship?”

Eizen held his tongue for a moment, drawing the moment out. And then he said, “Sure. Why are you interested?”

“Malakhim pirates!” Rokurou said. “Don’t you see why that would be a maybe even a little bit interesting? Sheesh, if the Abbey caught wind of you they’d go nuts.”

“They wouldn’t be pleased.” Velvet agreed. “But why don’t you get to the point, Magilou?”

“Right, right.” Magilou sat up at that, crossing her legs. “So, the thing is, Magilou’s Menagerie isn’t just some stationary bore of a show. We travel all around, right?”

“As most acts do.” Edna said.

“Except as of late, our shows haven’t been pulling in as much as they used to.” Magilou continued, waving her hand dismissively. “It’s the daemonblight. Everyone’s far too excited about that to come and see our brand of fun. I don’t see why, but, alas! I don’t make the rules.”

“So what are you getting at?” Eizen asked, his interest starting to wane. They were humans with resonance, but just because they could see them didn’t mean he had to bow to their every whim. Humans were fascinating, but they were all the same at the end of the day. He didn’t think he’d ever seen one that wasn’t acting for their own selfish means. “You’re running out of money. What does that have to do with us?”

“A ship would cost! Westgand has been fun and all for now, but we’re getting bored and it’s time to move on. I wanted Port Zekson would be our next stop, but we’ve found ourselves tragically stuck. Tonight’s earnings barely bought us dinner!”

Magilou collapsed on her back dramatically, a cry leaping from her throat. Eizen had a feeling she was over exaggerating. Edna pulled a face. “We should leave these morons to it then.”

Eleanor, who had been mostly quiet, hugged herself. Bienfu sat on her shoulder, his huge eyes peaking out from the brim of his hat. “I apologise for Magilou’s demeanour.” she said. “What we’re—she’s—asking, is that if you are the captains of that ship, perhaps you would consider taking us on as passengers? I understand that this is a lot to ask, and it is forward of us, but we’re sort of stuck right now.”

He crossed his arms, deep in thought. Port Zekson. Eizen hadn’t been to Midgand in a long time, and had absolutely no desire to return now. “It’s not happening.” he said. “And besides, what makes you think I’d go all that way for no pay? You think that just because we’re malakhim we don’t need funding?”

“Who said we wouldn’t pay?” Magilou said. She waved her hand and produced, from seemingly nothing, a tiny bag. It was no bigger than Eizen’s coin, and sat daintily in her hand. “I don’t just present our show, you know. I’m a witch, and you know what witches do? They create hexes!”

Eizen couldn’t believe this. “So you’re going to curse me? I hate to break this to you, but I'm already under one.”

“Oh how rude!” Magilou tittered. “I had a feeling you were. Like I said already, Laphicet would never make a mistake like he did tonight, and you wouldn’t believe the whispers we’ve been hearing of late. If you’re right and misfortune does follow you around, then this is just the thing! A good luck charm.”

Eizen looked at Edna, who simply popped open her umbrella in the middle of the room. “Oops.” she said, not sounding affected in the slightest. “Now I’ll have bad luck too. Don’t suppose you can make another one of those?”

Magilou did some sleight of hand wherein the bag simply disappeared with the movement. “Well, that’s the thing. The materials to make even one of these little baggies are quite hard to procure…and we’ll need all sorts of nasty monster bits for it to work. As it is, I’m fresh out!”

“This is ridiculous.” Eizen said. “So you don’t even have the good luck charm to begin with?”

“Getting the materials wouldn’t be difficult if we had more malakhim with us!” she said, jumping up to her feet. “Why, how about tomorrow? We go out, get the materials, make the bags, and then you can set off with us on board and the sweet knowledge that you’re in the hands of some seriously wonderful fortunes! We’ll be Magilou’s Menagerie, the terrors of the high seas, the storms that rock the boat sides—”

“We’re sorry about her.” Velvet said. “You should just go, forget about us.”

“But Velvet!” Laphicet protested. “I want to be a pirate!”

The thought of the good-luck bag was enticing. He didn’t believe in its magic, didn’t believe in anything to do with it really, but anything that could offset the effects of his domain had to be worth a look. And really, what was a boat ride at the end of the day? Once all was done and dusted, he and Edna could turn their backs on Port Zekson, their little placebo good luck bags in hand, and go back to searching every corner of the world for their own amusement.

“Alright.” he said. “But I’ll warn you now. Travelling with me, it’s not easy. My curse effects everyone around me. I can’t guarantee you’ll be safe on my ship, or even in this little trip out to find the materials you need. Keep that in mind. And also, I have one more condition. Say yes, and my ship will be yours to use.”

“Go on?” Velvet said.

“In your next performance, Rokurou uses that sword. I want to see it on the stage.”

Rokurou’s eyes went wide.

“Whatever you want, malak, I don’t care!” Magilou hollered in delight. “Woohoo! Port Zekson, here we come!”

---

The Warg Forest, past the Fens of Nog, was a nightmare to traverse. Marshy and wet to begin with, Eizen’s presence had only seemed to make it worse. A storm raged around them, the rain heaving down as if someone was throwing buckets of the stuff from the heavens. Edna looked at him from beneath her umbrella, dry and sheltered, and smirked

“It never rains like this.” Rokurou moaned, shaking out his soggy sleeves. “Like, seriously. It always rains but it never rains.”

“Right! Isn’t it fascinating, seeing this so-called curse in action?” Eleanor said. She walked alongside him, holding a spear in her hands. Apparently they weren’t just performers, but fighters too. Eizen found himself wondering about their pasts, about what had made them who they were. Humans lived such short, fleeting lives, a blink of the eye to a malakhim like him, and yet they managed to fit such a great deal of experience into them.

They were looking for the hides of lycanthropes, and the eyes and intestines of boars. Magilou didn’t seemed bothered by the rain, flinging balls of flame at anything that so much as moved. When Eizen questioned if charcoaled ingredients would work, she’d shrugged. “It doesn’t matter! Material is material, an eye is an eye, and hide is hide even if it’s a little bit blackened.”

“So, Eizen.” Velvet said, coming close. “Port Zekson. You’ve got a problem with that place?”

Eizen watched as Eleanor charged after a boar with a war cry. Laphicet and Rokurou followed as Edna and Magilou dispatched a skunk-like creature that had dared creep in on their space. “I don’t know what you mean.” Eizen said, twisting his enchanted bracelets. “Port’s a port.”

“And yet your eyes tell me a different story.” she smiled, but it was more like an Edna-brand of smile. Something cruel, not quite sweet. “Malakhim such as yourself are well travelled, correct? It wouldn’t be strange for some places to have bad associations.”

“There are plenty of places that I’d rather not sail to nowadays.” Eizen said. Port Zekson, Midgand itself, the real Rayfalke Spiritcrest down in Eastgand. Home seemed so far now. He knew the next time he returned he would not be himself. “But what would it matter to someone like you?”

“Just an observation.” Velvet said, though he had the feeling there was far more to her words than that. “You have a past there, don’t you?”

“And where is your past then,” Eizen said, “if you know so much?”

“Port Taliesin.” Velvet replied, curt, her eyes finding not his, but the battle Magilou was now raging with the boar that Eleanor had engaged. A second had joined the brawl, taking on Laphicet and Rokurou. “Aball.”

He had heard of it. “Your group is strange, you know. A bunch of humans with enough resonance to see the malakhim ending up together? How does that happen?”

The boar was refusing to go down without a fight. Rokurou cut through its hide, but even then it remained upright. Velvet stepped forward. “It starts with a hunt in the forest.”

She charged inwards, performing a roundhouse kick with the grace and flexibility of an acrobat. She did not let up, rapid strikes finding home amidst the carnage of Laphicet’s magical attacks. The boar struggled to keep up. She wore it down one kick at a time, and when she took even the slightest of hits, Laphicet was there with a healing arte. When she changed tactics, Eizen was surprised at the brutality of it. Hidden knives appeared from her sleeves, and with no mercy she cut through the boar like it was made of mere paper.

She reminded him of an assassin, and it was then he’d realised that he’d underestimated her. She dusted her hands while Rokurou began to gather the needed materials. “And how does it end then?” Eizen asked.

Velvet looked him in the eyes. “It ends with a girl finding her place in a travelling show, because there is nowhere else she feels alive. Ask us all, and we’ll answer the same. Whether it begins with that hunt, or a broken sword, or a cruel father, or dead parents, we all ended up here.”

Curiosity burned. He wanted to know the middles to those stories, what had driven Velvet to find her place with these people. Velvet said, “How does your story begin then, malak?”

Eizen reached into his pocket. His reaper’s coin was heavy in his grasp. “Depending on where you start,” he said, “it begins with either a girl, or a dragon.”

A roar from behind them. Eizen turned to see a lycanthrope, ugly and huge, approaching them with inhuman speed. “About time.” Edna said. She had been standing off to the side. “I was beginning to think you’d dragged us out here because you wanted to show off, but I doubt you puny humans could take on a beast like this.”

Eizen ran in first. Edna was strong in stature, but weak in pure strength. He was the opposite; he could deal the damage but couldn’t take it as well. Together, they covered one another’s weaknesses, their eyes always on each other’s backs. He slammed his fist into the beast’s jaw at the same time Edna let off an arte, the floor erupting upwards in an icy mountain-like structure. It disappeared almost instantly as it launched the lycanthrope into the air, the beast crying out in pain.

Eizen let loose with a wind based arte, something that had taken him a long time to learn and even longer to master. The green spears he conjured struck the beast as it fell, and with it he remembered Zaveid’s not-so-careful instruction, his lazy grin, the way he gave pointers. “You gotta just feel it, Eizen.” he’d said once. “Wind’s not like earth. It’s not steady, not stable. It’s chaos and it’s free and you’ve just got to go with it. You can’t control it like you do your earth, it doesn’t work that way.”

The wind-spears he had conjured caught the beast in a frenzy as it hit the ground, but it was stronger than he was giving it credit for. It recovered quickly, flipping to its feet, and then Eizen was forced to backstep as it swiped a claw at him. Inches from his face, he felt those claws cut air.

He could feel the eyes of the others watching them. This was the kind of monster that they had wanted help with, not the boars or the skunks or the other dregs of the forest. They were just humans with a child malak, while Eizen had a thousand years of experience and Edna had hundreds.

As the lycanthrope advanced on him, making it difficult to strike, Edna made her move. She ran in beside him, her umbrella in front of her like a spear, her earth artes enhancing its durability as she jabbed it into the creature’s chest. It gave Eizen the opening he needed to slam his fist into its jaw. He felt something crack beneath his force. He grinned at his victory.

But then, as it always did, his curse struck. The rains had made the floor sludgy and slippery. The beast snapped its head back so rapidly that Eizen was caught off guard, its claws slashing the space in front of it. Edna threw herself back out of its range but his boots caught in the mud, leaving him open as he tried to back step away. He caught the lycanthrope’s claws across his face, ripping open his skin from above his left eye to his jaw, four separate gashes that bled freely.

Eizen growled in pain, focusing his power into his fists. The wounds from a daemon hurt malakhim more than any usual creature, like the malevolence that made them up was searing into his skin. “Eizen!” Edna cried. He could feel magical energies from her, the beginnings of a healing arte. He could cast them too, they were both as talented as each other, but she was out of range and there was no way he could start up and successfully cast one when he was this close to the lycanthrope. He roared, earthen might in his blood and in his fists, and then he punched the beast back as Edna bathed him in healing light.

He brawled, the thrill of the fight catching up to him. He could see Edna falling under its thrall too as she began to toy with the lycanthrope more than truly battling it. She took its blows like she was made of stone, keeping its attention on her as Eizen beat it down, vicious and powerful.

But the malevolence around them, from the clawed marks cut into his face to the beast itself, was beating down on him like a sun. He could feel it acutely, like pinpricks in the back of his mind. Malakhim were more vulnerable to it than humans. Water was the most easily corrupted, but earth was just as much a toy in the hands of malevolence’s cruel effects. Eizen had many secrets, but this was his biggest of all; he had already absorbed enough to teeter him on the edge of an irreversible state.

And maybe that was why he lost himself, just ever so slightly. His curse was unkind and malicious, it turned every win into a loss and every moment of quiet into a chaotic din. He stunned the beast enough to gain the upper hand, and when the timing was right, he lost his grip on his malakhim nature and let something a bit nastier shine through.

“Eizen!” Edna gasped. She sounded horrified.

The dragon-like shadow that formed from him was a monstrous thing, For a single second in time it was like he had those scaled, powerful wings. Those shadows threw him upwards, sky bound, and he could see his sister, the beast, and the menagerie. All were tinted red and yellow. He wasn’t sure if he recognized them.

Fire reigned down. Not earth, not even wind. Fire.

He’d only known one fire malak. She was a beautiful woman, though he hadn’t seen her in years. She had helped him when Edna had been young, when he’d been but a boy in the eyes of malakhim, when he’d had no idea how to bring up an infant. Many people knew her, a steadfast guide to many youths, pure hearted, kind, serious. That was the opposite of everything he was in this moment, and yet he was using her element in his malevolent state.

In a flash, in the blink of an eye, he was on the floor again, the moment passed, the smouldering remains of the lycanthrope prone on the floor. Edna was looking at him with wide eyes. He looked at the menagerie, who all stared with varying looks of surprise, amazement, and horror.

How does your story begin then, malak?

Eizen stood there, breathing hard, feeling the malevolence rescind within himself, his body his again.

It didn’t begin with the girl, or even the dragon. Not really. It began with a disagreement, a fracturing of a friendship, and Port Zekson. Eizen was still paying for it. He would be paying for it for the rest of his life.

---

They didn’t talk about it. None of them mentioned it. Not even Magilou, who Eizen was sure would fire off a million questions a minute, breathed so much as a mention of it.

It was fine. Humans didn’t understand the relevance of the shadow, of what it meant to a malak like him, and he didn’t intend to spill those secrets. Eizen and Edna dropped the menagerie back at their inn and then went to stalk the streets of Port Reneed alone. Magilou said she needed time to do her magic, and Eizen, though admittedly curious, didn’t want to stay cooped up in their room.

The sun was setting, but people were still peddling their wares. Edna was silent as she walked a few paces behind him. He hadn’t breathed a word to her about malevolence. They had been travelling together for a long time and he’d never said a thing. She didn’t know, he told himself. She had no idea how close to the brink he was. What happened in the forest meant nothing. It was just an arte. Just an attack.

Together they looked at the stalls, Edna’s gaze longing when she saw the one selling stuffed toys. Eizen laughed. “Don’t tell me that you want another. I literally bought you one the other night.”

“I told you, I’m not interested in these stupid human things.” Edna said, a blatant lie if he’d ever heard one. “What do you think about Witchyface’s magic bags, huh? Think they’re worth their salt?”

“I think we’re just going to get a bag of singed bullshit.” Eizen said. Edna fixed her sarcastic grin to her face. “It was a waste of time. A grand waste, but a waste nonetheless.”

“But you still wasted it willingly.” Edna said. “So which is it? Do you believe in the bag of magic nonsense, or are you that desperate for an excuse to go back to Port Zekson?”

That stung. Edna was good at digging her claws in when she wanted. “We’re dropping them off and then we’re leaving.” Eizen said. “Port Zekson has nothing for me.”

Eizen took a fruit from a stall and swapped a coin for it. Edna took one for herself. “You keep telling yourself that.” she said, taking a bite of the apple she’d procured. She ate in silence, and Eizen didn’t have anything to say. Together they watched the humans hurry from stall to stall.

It was difficult to comprehend how they could fit so many experiences into their terribly fragile, fleeting existences. Eizen hadn’t been human. Some malaks had been once, but not him. He and Edna had been born from the earthpulses, the same one, rarities in that they felt their connection to one another when most malakhim didn’t form familial relationships.

“Eizen.” she said. “When are we going home?”

Home. The mountain from where he’d taken the name for their ship. How long had it been since he’d seen it? “Why?” he asked. “Not enjoying the travelling?”

“It’s alright.” Edna said. She looked at the apple, twisting her hand as she inspected it. “Sometimes though, I get sick of it. We’re earth malaks. We don’t belong on the sea, we can’t even swim. Have you ever wondered what we’d do if we sunk?”

“We wouldn’t sink.” Eizen said.

“We could sink. We’ve almost sunk before. Do you remember that time when that shark daemon attacked us? It was nearly as big as our ship and you fell in the water trying to beat it up. I had to fish you out, which was awful because I got soaked and you nearly drowned. Your dumb curse makes it so we nearly sink all the time.”

Eizen huffed at the accusation. “We don’t sink ‘nearly all the time’.” he said. “And I didn’t nearly drown.”

“Please. You’re earth, and yet a water malak could look at you funny and you’d fall over.”

“Is this an attack on my pride, Edna?” Eizen asked. “I’ve beaten plenty of water malaks in my time.”

“Wind malaks too?”

And there were her barbs again. Eizen didn’t wince, didn’t flinch, but he felt the sting nonetheless. She was still smiling, but now he had a feeling she was digging around in him for an answer to a question he didn’t know she was asking. “I could beat any wind malak that challenged me.” he said.

Edna snickered. She finished her apple and tossed away the core. Eizen hadn’t taken a single bite out of his. “By the way, brother.” she said. “You know it’s bad manners to answer a question with a question, right? I’ll let you off this time, but I’m gonna ask again. When are we going home?”

“When we’ve charted the entire world and seen everything we want to see.” Eizen said. “When we’ve plundered ships and taken their treasures. When we’ve found artefacts from a thousand years before I was born, when we’ve found the very edges of the sea. When we’ve tunnelled our way beneath the ocean to create our own personal escape routes to every island in this world.”

“Wow.” Edna said. “Big hopes there. How long are you planning on living? Ten thousand years? Will Rayfalke even still be there by then?”

“We can hope.” Eizen said. The conversation died with that, and Eizen thanked everything that she didn’t press further. It wasn’t a discussion he wanted to have, especially after the events in the forest. He’d named the ship after their mountain home for a reason, to make it feel like home away from home, but it seemed like even Edna got homesick.

He felt guilty. His sister pretended she was strong, but there was so much beneath her facade. He wasn’t stupid enough to pretend that their conversation hadn’t been about something entirely different. She was clever with words, and it felt like his grip on his own secrets was getting slack.

“Let’s walk.” Eizen said. He pocketed his fruit, his appetite having disappeared with Edna’s question. He thought about it, and decided it wasn’t fair for her to have the upper hand against him. “My turn now. A question for you?”

“Spit it out then.”

“Do you regret coming with me?”

He didn’t turn to look at her, not wanting to see her expression. She was good at masking her gaze but he didn’t want to chance seeing the answer written in the curve of her mouth or the look in her eyes. He wanted to hear it in her voice, to find the truth or the lie hidden there, to know if he’d made a mistake all those years ago when he’d been unable to leave her behind.

“Stupid.” she muttered. Her tone had bite to it. “You think I’d make a choice I’d regret? What do you take me for, a moron? Home isn’t just a mountainside, Eizen. Though you’d believe that, wouldn’t you?” she stomped ahead, opening her umbrella and resting it on her shoulder. “Ugh, do I have to spell it out for you? Yeah, home is Rayfalke, but that’s not the only place it can be. Home is also where you are. It’s doesn’t have to just be some dumb pile of rocks.”

Eizen didn’t think he’d feel relieved at the admission, didn’t think he had anything to be relieved over. Despite that, he still let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “Consider me told then.”

#Tales of Berseria #eizen (tob)#Eizen #edna (toz)#Tales of #Magilou #Velvet Crowe #Rokurou Rangetsu #Eleanor Hume #Laphicet #Zaveid #My Writing

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