#ive never embroidered once in my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whenthesnowfelloverwinterfell · 11 months

Text

Vatic - Chapter IV " One Day "

Series Description : The youngest daughter of King Viserys and Queen Alicent grows up split between the two sides of her family. With dreams plaguing her sleep of people she does not know, and a war looming ahead of her. She will be forced to choose between the two sides of her family, between the love for her brother, and the loyalty for her sister.

Chapter Description : Y/n Targaryen comforts her brother after their brother and nephews play a cruel joke on him in the Dragonpit.

Warnings : none in this chapter

Pairing : eventual Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader ( cannon typical targcest idk what to tell you )

Word Count : 2.2k

“It will happen to you sooner than you may think, little sister,” Rhaenyra’s voice was always a welcomed sound to Y/n, though Aemond seemed disinterested in their sister’s presence in the sitting area.

It was an area of the family living quarters that was usually only frequented by Aemond and Y/n. The loveseats and lounges covered with blankets and pillows that had been lazily strewn about. Candles lit to give the room light in the very early hours of the morning when the sun had yet to rise. The two Targaryen children had been restless, and had chosen to come to their favorite seating area in the whole castle. There were many someone could have their choice of, but the two children had always been rather fond of this one, overlooking Blackwater Bay, where they could look out and see the ships that came and went. Where they would play games and try to guess where the ship was going, and what they had on board. A game that Y/n had once heard of in a dream many years ago, and decided she wanted to play it.

Tonight however, Rhaenyra had also been restless, and had found her younger half siblings sitting quietly, Aemond with a large book in his lap, and Y/n with her needlework, and Rhaenyra had taken her spot comfortably next to her sister. Though, from Y/n’s perspective, Rhaenyra never seemed to be too comfortable at all anymore. ‘The babe is growing, little sister, she makes it hard for me to move about as I wish.’ is what Rhaenyra would always say whenever Y/n made her concerns known to her older sister.

“What do you mean?” Y/n questioned as she continued her needlework, trying her best to embroider the material with a gold rose. Lord and Lady Tyrell had visited court not long ago, and their ornate embroidery on their clothing, clearly identifying them as the Tyrells had inspired her in her needlework, and well, the Tyrell rose was far easier to embroider than the Targaryen three headed dragon.

“Having a babe of your own.” Rhaenyra said it so casually that both Y/n and Aemond looked at her puzzled. Y/n was still only nine, she wouldn’t be having a child for many years to come. Math wasn’t exactly Y/n’s strong suit, however she knew that her own mother had Aegon when she was six and ten years of age. That was an eternity away for the young princess. “I feel as though one day I was only just a child of my own, and then I blinked and I was holding Jace after he was born.” She went on to explain.

Though, it still didn’t make any sense to Y/n. How could years pass so quickly for someone? Y/n decided that her sister was only exaggerating. That it truly wasn’t such. That time would forever pass as it in her whole nine years of life. Adults frequently said things that were untrue, or that were half truths. This must have been one of them.

“The babe is due any day now, according to the maesters. . . I’ll be staying in our wing of the Keep until the babe arrives.” by our, Rhaenyra had meant her, Laenor, and her sons’ wing of the keep. Y/n had known that Rhaenyra would take her rest before the babe was to arrive, but the prospect of not seeing her sister wandering the halls throughout the day disappointed her nevertheless. “Promise me, you will keep up with your archery lessons? Theobrand would be very upset if you let your mother get her way.” Y/n knew it was just Rhaenyra teasing her, but she could sense an underlying tone to her jest.

Y/n had begun to catch onto the distaste her mother and her sister had for one another, as well as the distaste her brothers seemed to have for their nephews, though that distaste seemed to be a majority from Aemond. Though, she didn’t know if she could blame him. She knew of the cruel jokes they made out of her beloved older brother. They never gave him reprieve. He was the only one out of the boys who didn’t have a dragon, and they never let him forget it. Y/n wasn’t so slow to be unaware of the fact that Aemond found comfort with her. She was his only friend in the keep, and for that as well, the boys never let him forget it.

It was clear to Y/n the rivalry between the two was festering in a negative light more so than the previous years of her life. With the way Rhaenyra made vaguely snide comments about Alicent even with Y/n with her, and the way that Alicent would speak in hushed whispers to her maids with her children in the room about Jacaerys and Lucerys being bastards sired by Harwin Strong, Y/n would hear as Aegon and Aemond whispered to each other at the dining table morning and evening, the word ‘bastard’ scarecly above that of a murmer, but she could always hear it.

Y/n was conflicted. She loved her mother, and wished to please her. She wore the colors she wished, and the exact dresses she wanted, she wore her hair the way Alicent liked, and did a majority of what made her mother happy, but she also loved her sister. And she knew her sister loved her, despite her indifference to the rest of their siblings.

Though, those words stayed in Y/n’s mind two weeks later, as she sat on the opposite side of the room from Helaena and her mother, once more, She had her needle work in hand, but this time, she was attempting the three headed dragon of house Targaryen, all the while, Helaena had her collection of bugs out. It was clear to Y/n, by the conversation, that their lady mother was dreadfully bored of being shown the insects, but at least Helaena was actually speaking. Y/n had been silent since she heard of the arrival of her newborn nephew. She and Rhaenyra both had hoped for a girl.

Y/n was unaware as to why she was so disappointed by the news, yet at the same time, relieved. It didn’t make sense. She’d wished to have a niece, but had instead a nephew was yet again sired. She didn’t understand her emotions to the situation.

Aemond was always the one better with his words. Had he been with her with one of his books the same thickness as Y/n’s own head instead of at the dragonpit, he could have helped her better understand the conflict.

“This one has 60 rings. . .” Helaena spoke, all the while Y/n kept accidentally pricing her finger tips with a needle. She hated needle work the more she thought about it. “And two pairs of legs on each. That’s 240.”

A brief silence occurred before their mother replied; “Yes, it is.”

“It has eyes. . . though, I don’t believe it can see”

“And why is that so, do you think?”

Alicent frequently had these conversations with Helaena. Trying to get to better know her by indulging her. It Y/n understood that out of the children, she and Aemond were the easiest for their mother to understand. Aegon was what many of the maids whispered and spoke of as a ‘drunk letcher.’ with every sense of ‘depravity’ that even the ladies on the street of silk couldn’t satiate his appetite. Y/n didn’t understand exactly what it was that Aegon had an appetite for, but she knew it was something her mother disapproved of. Helaena was odd, quiet, and happy to remain on the ground playing with multi-legged insects all day rather than speak to other people. Aemond and Y/n were the most sociable with their mother. The only two who she truly seemed to somewhat like. Daeron was always off doing something.

“It is beyond our understanding.”

“I suppose you’re right. Some things just are.”

That was a phrase that was familiar to Y/n. When she had asked her mother why Aegon and Helaena were to wed when the faith of the seven forbade incest, and why she were to allow it when she was so devoted to her faith. ‘Some things just are, darling’

It had been a non-answer to the question.

The door to the room opened, and Y/n’s eyes flickered over to the entry as a guard strode in, holding Aemond’s wrist. He was covered in dirt and soot. His lightly padded gambeson with a popped thread on the shoulder. Y/n stood to her feet within a moment, the needle work forgotten as their mother stood to her feet as well.

“Aemond,” She called going over to him. “What have you done?” “He did it again.”

Both Alicent and Y/n knew what it meant when she said it. He went down into the depths of the dragon pit yet again. It always worried Y/n when he did such things. His dseparation to have a dragon was going to eat at him, and it made him do reckless things that their mother would scold him for.

“After how many times you’ve been warned, must have you confined to your chambers?!” their mother demanded, raising her voice at him.

“They made me do it!” He defended, raising his voice as a defense, to get her to listen to him.

“As if you needed encouragement. Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding,” Y/n had always been heavily in tune with the fact that her mother disliked a majority of things ‘Targaryen’ and that included dragons, despite it being part of Targaryen family history, tradition. Aemond was obsessed with them because he had to constantly be around the other boys training their own dragons whose eggs had been laid in the cradle with them, while Aemond’s had never hatched, and as a result, he had none to train. Helaena had claimed Dreamfyre when she was young, and had begun riding her by the time was eleven, much to Alicent’s dismay. But Y/n stayed away from the dragons, and the dragon pits, as her mother’s wish.

“They gave me a pig!” Aemond yelled as their mother grabbed his shoulders firmly, holding him still.

“A what?”

“They said they had a dragon for me,” He began, while Helaena had lost interest in what their brother had just experiences and was instead focused back on the bug that was crawling on her hands. “But it was a pig.” Y/n began a slow approach to her mother and brother.

“You will have a dragon one day. “ Alicent tried to comfort.

“He’ll have to close an eye.” Helaena mumbled to her insect.

“I know it.” Their mother continued. As Y/n finally reached the two, she grabbed Aemond’s hand and held it tightly within her own.

She hated to see him this way. Defeated and resigned to the treatment of their brother and nephews. He was always sensitive to how others treated him, and not being excepted by the other boys? It was always clear to Y/n how it upset and affected him.

Their mother pulled him in for a hug, but Aemond and Y/n remained with hands interlocked.

It was never fair to her. How Aegon and their nephews always got away with their treatment, but if Aemond were to retaliate? He’d get into trouble.

“I shall handle this.” Their mother spoke, pulling away from Aemond, placing both hands on the sides of his face and kissing his forehead before stepping away. “I shall speak to your father.” And with that, their mother had left the three children in the room with the guard alone, and Y/n had quickly wrapped her arms around her brother, her chin resting on his shoulder. He had in turn, tightly encaptured her frame between his arms, squeezing her close to him, hiding his face in her shoulders.

“Mother’s right,” Y/n spoke softly. She could smell the dragonpit stench clinging to him like a young child would cling to their mother’s skirts during their first excursion at court, being surrounded by tall and intimidating knights, and lords, dragons frequently seen overhead as someone from the Targaryen family decided to take flight over King’s Landing. But much like the scent clung to him, her sweet brother clung to the idea of dragons.

The books he read to her when they slept in the same bed were more oft than not about dragons and their lords. Stories about Old Valyria, the blood magic, and the theories of how the Doom occurred. He was fascinated with all things Valyrian. He was trying to live the life their ancestors once lived hundreds of years ago. When dragons were always the size of Belarion the Black Dread and there more dragons than you could count. That was no longer the case.

Y/n had never been overtly interested in the idea of claiming a dragon. she had excepted that the powder blue dragon egg that had been put with her in her cradle was never going to hatch, and that she would be without a dragon. She saw no need for seeking one out. Especially when most dragons had already been claimed. Her mother never liked her going to the dragon pit anyway, and the majority of available dragons, were wild, and loose on Dragonstone.

“You will have a dragon one day, brother. I’m sure of it.”

At that, Aemond squeezed her just a little tighter, comfortably resting his head on her shoulder.

Add yourself to the taglist !!

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @winxschester

#game of thrones fic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #house of the dragon fic

101 notes · View notes

distant-velleity · 3 months

Text

A Fair Price (Vol. 1)

Summary: Davis’ attempt to make Azul face consequences backfires. Horribly. ...or not? Word count: 5.6k+ A/N: okay so. this may be a little rushed. but in MY DEFENSE this may be the longest thing i've written in several months and i need to stop myself at some point. plus i think niaa needs a break from my ranting abt these two. also ive never beta read my works in my life and it SHOWS Tagging: @thehollowwriter @nahelenia. lmk if anyone wants to be tagged for the release of vol2 !

Vol. 0 || Vol. 1 || Vol. 2

(Day 1 - Thursday.)

It had been, even by Davis’ dirt-low standards, an awful morning.

The day began with someone sabotaging his potion during first period. The perpetrator was caught by Crewel too easily, but that didn’t mean Davis was free from having to do a remedial. Then, he was intentionally tripped on his way out of second period, dropping his bookbag and being laughed at while he was on his knees. As if that weren’t enough, he’d nearly died during P.E. thanks to some classmates thinking it’d be fun to knock him off his broom several meters in the air. At least Ruggie had the sense to save him from certain death… but that left Davis in his debt, again.

After all that, he just wants to have a peaceful lunch by himself with no incidents whatsoever—even ducking into a hallway corner to avoid being spotted during the break—but apparently the universe can’t even spare him that much mercy.

Like an omen of suffering, halfway through the lunch break, Davis hears the clack of polished loafers on the floor before he sees the wearer.

“So you’re here today,” Azul says with slight exasperation belying interest, a wrapped-up bento box in his hand. The lilac fabric and embroidered insignia suggest he made it at his dorm. “Do you enjoy playing hard-to-get for me specifically?”

Davis doesn’t even hide the way he reaches up to rub at his temple. Is this how the newsies viewed him when he first started at RSA? But, no, he wasn’t nearly as much of a—as much of a… whatever, he won’t give any more to that thought.

“No,” he replies, as politely as he can. “I just wanted somewhere quiet to sit.” And then you came.

“Then I hope you won’t mind my intrusion too much.” Not waiting for a response, Azul lowers himself to the ground—slowly, as if his knees are unsteady or his leg muscles are strained—so he can sit next to Davis. There’s a respectful sort of physical distance he maintains.

“It depends on the reason for said intrusion,” mutters Davis.

He regrets giving Azul that opening immediately, spotting the classic spark in his eye that signals an imminent pontification burst.

“Have you forgotten about our exchange already?” Azul wonders rhetorically, setting his bento box in his lap and unpacking it so he can eat. “I believe spending our lunch together is one of the best methods so as to reach both my goal and yours. After all, we don’t have many opportunities to chat outside of club meetings… so this is the only time where I can pin you down for certain. Aren’t I rather benevolent for taking the initiative for you?”

…The exchange. Yes, that certainly exists. After having a blissfully Azul-free early morning and then suffering through literally everything else, he’d totally forgotten about that. (Despite going to bed cursing quietly into his pillow after Ruggie had fallen sound asleep last night, to show how he’d regretted it all of yesterday.)

Davis already knows that the foreseeable future will be nothing short of unbearable. But, as he reminds himself, he’s doing this so someone can at least bring Azul to some form of justice, no matter how seemingly irrelevant; and to settle his own annoyance with the merman because of that. The light at the end of the tunnel is that once this is over, it’s over and he’ll only have to hear a regular amount of yapping afterwards.

“Right. Is this really going to be a daily occurrence?” asks Davis.

Azul simply smiles at him. “Is there an issue with that?” is his response, both a confirmation and a test.

Davis looks at him wordlessly. Ultimately, instead of the other rather rude interjection he was going to say, he shakes his head. “...No.”

“Wonderful,” says Azul, in that elevated tone of his.

Davis looks away to check his phone, and that’s when the merman starts to actually eat. It’s rude to talk with your mouth full—at least Davis, born and raised a Queendom citizen, was taught that—so he gets maybe a few minutes tops of blissful, speech-free silence.

He’s absorbed in a DM conversation with Cater when Azul finally speaks up again. “Was there something on your mind earlier?”

“What?”

“I’m referring to…” Azul spares Davis’ phone a glance before continuing. “The fact that you decided to eat somewhere almost no one would find you. Well, not eat—it seems like you didn’t even spare the effort of going to the cafeteria.”

Okay, really—screw Azul and his nosiness, and how he can hit the nail on the head like that. He’d seen the way the bespectacled housewarden pursued a certain vice housewarden in their joint classes, but seriously.

“You don’t have to think about it so much,” Davis says immediately, because he can already see where this is going. And yet he still adheres to a personal principle of ‘no (fully) lying.’ “Is it so weird for a guy to just want a change of scenery every now and then?”

“You don’t seem like the kind of person to enjoy change without good reason, at least from my observations,” supplies Azul.

“Why are you paying so much attention to me all of a sudden, isn’t Viper your current obsession—” Davis closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again. “Okay, that’s true, but is this any of your business?”

Azul actually huffs. “I’ll have you know I’m leaving Jamil alone while he practices for the SDC. And it isn’t strictly my business, but who am I to abandon a classmate in need? I simply want to know if you have anything you need to get off your chest.”

Great Seven, does Davis have things he needs to ‘get off his chest,’ including his shitty day on top of the rollercoaster the past year has been for him—but he’d sooner go back to Royal Sword than willingly confess anything to Azul. Even if this is a harmless offer, which it never would be, then, well… Davis has someone else he would rather confide in. Possibly.

(And isn’t that a depressing thought, having only one other option, but—)

“Not right now,” he replies, hoping it sounds amicable enough while also being a clear rejection.

“You’re certain? I’d be willing to listen, free of judgment…”

“Yes—”

The bell rings, warning of the five minutes left before lunch break ends. Davis has never felt more relieved.

“What a shame,” says Azul with a sigh, wrapping up his lunch and getting himself standing back onto his feet. “It may have to wait, but—don’t fret. We have plenty of time, after all.”

“That’s the reason I’m fretting,” Davis mumbles as Azul walks away.

If Azul hears him, he doesn’t show it in the slightest.

—

(Day 3 - Saturday.)

“Ya think they’re enjoying themselves?”

“It certainly seems like it. Hehehe.”

Dual voices waft like unpleasant smoke from the partially-opened doors to Azul’s office. As if peeking out from amid holes in the reef, two pairs of yellow-black eyes peer in from the hallway.

Azul, using most of his willpower, makes it a point to avoid showing any external reaction to the twins’ shenanigans. Instead, he focuses on the pleasing sound of Davis’ voice.

“So we can guess that the potion would have combusted,” Davis says, leaning over the desk and scribbling something down on his homework. It’s amusing how agreeable he can be for the sake of good grades, any accusatory tone totally absent.

“What? No, it simply would’ve had a different final effect,” argues Azul, without looking up from his own paper.

That’s when Davis’ pen stops moving. “But this ingredient reacts with pure oxygen easily. Too much of it and the whole thing would go up in flames…”

So much for ‘agreeable.’

Still, Azul doesn’t curse under his breath, but it’s a near thing. He’d spoken mindlessly while listening to the other’s voice, and remembered the deep-sea version of the recipe instead. “That… was careless of me. You’re correct.”

Davis doesn’t gloat, just hums in accepting affirmation and continues writing. It sort of soothes the feverish shame that pricks Azul’s back as he makes sure to put down the right answer on his own worksheet.

“Yes. They’re definitely having fun.”

“Looks like the little sand goby got one over Azul.”

“How interesting; to think that he’d make such a slip-up…”

“Wonder what coulda distracted him so much~”

“Excuse me for a moment,” Azul says airily, standing up and storming over to the door (if you ask him, it was professionally speedwalking). He neutrally meets eyes with Jade and Floyd before closing and locking the doors in their faces. Turning around, he says to Davis, “Sorry about that. The open doors simply… bothered me a little.”

Davis, having stood up and looked over his shoulder for this, frowns ever so slightly. “That might’ve been my bad. If there’s a next time, I’ll make sure to close them properly,” he says, somewhat grudgingly, as if disappointed that he was raised with manners.

He mentions nothing of the twins, despite how they weren’t even trying to hide themselves.

“You mean you don’t think there’ll be a ‘next time’?” Azul lowers himself into his chair with a dramatic sigh; the other sophomore takes this as a cue to sit back down as well. “I’m hurt. Haven’t we been incredibly productive today? Wouldn’t you want to collaborate with me like this again?”

And, reluctant as he is to face the liability that is the introverted part of himself, this has been a good excuse to get away from crowds after a long day working shifts.

(Even if, as per getting to know someone, it’s also a window of time in which his own faults could be personally exposed.)

There’s a moment in which Davis doesn’t respond, looking down at the rest of the lab report and chewing absentmindedly at his lower lip; it’s a mundanely fascinating action, despite only being a subconscious behavior. “Right. But I’m sure you know why I would feel at a disadvantage when this is your turf…”

‘Turf’?

“I didn’t think such terminology was part of your vocabulary—you make me sound like a gang boss. I’m just the housewarden and humble Lounge manager, really.”

“I mean, you are kind of the…” Davis looks up, seeming to realize something, and shakes his head. “…Nevermind. Force of habit.”

Azul chuckles. “Must be the effects of being in Savanaclaw, hmm?”

It’s amusing when Davis grimaces, but also elicits the slightest twinge of sympathy—if it were Azul in that situation, he’d ask to transfer out as soon as possible. “In part, yes.”

“In part?”

There’s no reply. Davis simply gets back to work, and Azul has to firmly stifle a sigh.

It seems as if Davis operates on the principle of “speak the truth or say nothing,” and very rarely deviates from it. Case in point: the current situation. It’s a bit of an obstacle when your name is Azul Ashengrotto and you’re trying to know more still about the only Royal Sword student to transfer to Night Raven College in decades (with the goal of having another useful connection to make use of, obviously).

School rivalries have this tendency to get in the way of information gathering. Which is why the best method was to talk to the teen himself, whether at lunch, club activities, or now.

…which would be more effective if Davis didn’t spend most of their conversations dodging questions like a sand goby camouflaging itself on the seabed.

Floyd’s nickname for you is a little too accurate, Azul thinks, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers. “Does it have anything to do with your time at Royal Sword?” He recalls a certain freshman with a rough history who swore to become a better student, and makes the connection with Davis’ current diligence. “That Trappola off-handedly mentioned you’ve always had your nose stuck in a book, but many things can change in just a handful of years.”

“Do you really have to…” It looks like Davis could age another two decades at the mention of his sly underclassman. “…Well, my previous dorm was also—rough, and territorial, I guess I’d call it. It wasn’t on the level of the Savanaclaw jocks, though.”

Then, if he’s always been sorted like that, it looks like he isn’t just the pure and principled individual who’s risen to the challenge of defeating ‘injustice.’

“I see, I see.” Azul hums with interest. “I suppose that means there’s still much more to you than you’d like to willingly show me?”

He flashes a smile at Davis, who sighs.

“So much for being productive… Can we get back to work, please?”

“It was merely a question.”

“Ashengrotto, I know you’re a Potionology ace,” says Davis, while brushing back his bangs with a tired air for emphasis, “but I don’t think I’m any more interesting than the homework.”

On the contrary, Azul actually feels more energized and satisfied after recovering from his earlier slip-up. It’s almost like he took any of Davis’ enthusiasm… which is a sobering thought, actually, and he straightens up in his seat.

“You’re right. These questions won’t answer themselves.”

…

(Later, once Davis has left, the twins approach Azul. Again.

“How did it go?” Jade asks, ever ‘polite.’

“Fine,” replies Azul, in a bit of a daze. He’s made progress, but not enough, but it’s also just enough to get him on that high of needing more…

…which is promptly ruined by Floyd’s interjection of, “You don’t even have his number yet. Do we gotta wait for that development like some kind of romance drama?”

Azul bestows upon Floyd a well-placed kick in the shin.)

—

(Day 5 - Monday.)

“And thus, we can see the effects of these policies on the Queendom of Roses through history…”

With two sophomore classes combined into one hall for a History of Magic lecture, the sound of pens scratching is louder than usual. It goes hand-in-hand with the rustling of notebooks and paper. Here and there, students have the gall to hushedly whisper among themselves.

“For example, in the late 1800s, war broke out among the dukedoms because…”

Idly, Davis jots down a paraphrased version of Trein’s words.

To be completely honest, he’s not fully paying attention. While he normally would listen closely, his excuse this time is that the content of this lecture is almost entirely things he knows by heart, save for a few details and exact dates. Having grown up in the Queendom of Roses and taken an advanced history elective before being expelled from Royal Sword Academy—if you could respectfully ignore that he’d been a history nerd his whole life—...the reason why is quite obvious.

So Trein’s words fade into the background, barely louder than the class-produced white noise. Unfortunately, that means the majority of his focus has shifted to the person sitting next to him.

Azul takes notes diligently and methodically, much in the same way that he was already in the classroom by the time Davis had arrived—

(He’d turned to Davis and smiled expectantly. Expectantly, and expectantly smug.

It really had been tempting, in that moment, to find somewhere else to sit out of spite—but it wasn’t like Davis wanted to sit next to Ruggie, who would probably copy off of his notes. And if he sat next to anyone else, well…

Basically, he was left with no other choice but to sit next to the merman, who was sitting towards the front of the room.)

—like a dedicated model student.

Aside from his standard magic pen, Azul also carries with him an assorted variety of highlighters or colored pens. Whenever there’s a pause in Trein’s lecture, he goes back and marks up his notes in a way that would make them easier to review.

It makes sense, all tutoring and study guide-related things considered. That doesn’t mean it’s any less oddly satisfying for Davis to watch out of the corner of his eye.

“The war resulted in dramatic lifestyle changes for Queendom citizens, especially those of the northern dukedom whose land had been pillaged and ruined…”

There go another few bullet points on Davis’ notes as he at least makes the effort to keep up with the lecture. In the margins, he takes note of a few important dates.

It’s weird, how—like when he was starting to have fun with the newsies, with Jacques—this lecture seems awfully boring when he could give into a less important temptation. Like observing Azul. Actually, it’s weird how that’s beginning to seem appealing…

Why is that—?

“Mr. Jayme,” calls Trein right after briefly summarizing the north’s situation, interrupting thoughts Davis didn’t even realize he was caught up in.

“Ah—” Davis blinks, snapping to attention. “Yes, sir?”

Some students start whispering behind him. It’s too easy to pretend he doesn’t hear anything, even if it’s all too noticeable.

He doesn’t notice the way Azul eyes him with an unreadable expression.

Trein raises a critical eyebrow at him—although, he’s usually satisfied with Davis’ work if not commending it, so maybe it’s more expectant… “You seem to be a bit out of it today. Would you mind standing up, and clearing your head by explaining to the class what other consequences the war had on the north?”

“…No, sir. I’ll do it.”

The whispers turn into faint snickers, people who are just waiting to see him fail and be humiliated. It seems that—even as much as Davis tries to keep a low profile—people never stop getting a kick out of kicking the outsider while he’s down. He doesn’t sigh or flush red as he stands up, even though shame makes even the air around him feel too suffocating from being put on the spot.

“With most of their cities and towns destroyed, the citizens of the northern dukedom had to crowd together in makeshift settlements to make it from day to day with the intention of gradually rebuilding,” Davis explains almost entirely from memory alone. “However, because of the poor conditions, sickness spread among the populace like wildfire. It was especially brutal for the weak-bodied former aristocracy, whose lands and assets had been targeted during the war. Consequently, with more of the common people left alive than the wealthy once the epidemic passed, the north was one of the first regions in the Queendom to slowly abolish the previous social hierarchy.”

The room is, funnily enough, silent.

Lucius mews something that, if Animal Linguistics has done its job, seems to be vague praise. Trein nods approvingly. “Very good; a flawless answer. You may sit back down.”

Davis doesn’t sit down so much as he lowers himself and then sags into his seat. That’s enough of being publicly perceived for one day, and—it’s not even noon yet, for the Seven’s sake.

By chance, though, he glances aside to see Azul smiling at him with a look in his eyes that screams I told you so. Even if he distinctly does not remember Azul telling him anything this whole class period.

(…and yet it feels good that he’s proven all of their classmates, who were hoping for him to mess up, wrong.)

The lecture continues on.

…

“I hope you all took note of that. Now, I’ll allow you two minutes for a stretch break. We will continue on the Queendom’s history momentarily.”

All across the room, pens clatter to the desks and sighs of relief are exhaled.

Azul finishes writing something down, goes over the subheading and some crucial phrases in a bright cerulean, then finally allows his hand a rest. “Well,” he says loftily, rolling his wrist in circles, “I’d say that was quite the enlightening lecture. Wouldn’t you?”

He looks over at Davis.

“Right,” replies Davis, almost automatically. “I knew most of that, but…”

Before saying anything else, he trails off. It sounds too much like he’s bragging, doesn’t it? And he’d rather not; especially not after that display…

“And? There’s no shame in that.” Azul chuckles to himself. “I don’t mean to sound like Rook, but there’s something admirable about seeing people when they’re confident. No wonder you hardly took any notes.”

Davis doesn’t mention how he didn’t take notes because he was watching Azul take them. “Well, you said it yourself—Ace reports that I’ve always had my nose in a book. I guess this is just a side effect of that.”

“But not everyone who reads thinks about what they read, you know.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

Azul opens his mouth to respond, probably with something witty—

Trein raps his knuckles against the whiteboard.

“Let us pick up where we left off.”

Instead of saying anything, Azul simply nods at him and picks up his pen. Back to paying attention, back to writing his perfect notes.

“Today, we see the dukedom system has become obsolete…”

Davis does his best to keep paying attention, but in the end, he’s still always glancing aside.

—

(Day 9 - Friday.)

Azul crosses his arms.

The classroom used for the Board Game Club is absolutely devoid of its usual members.

…To be honest, he probably should have seen this coming. If the group chat meant anything, Idia was going to be busy with something tech-related and couldn’t come—many of their other members also had remedials or something else to take care of, so they would be late too or wouldn’t be showing up at all.

And yet, Azul showed up anyway… then set up a few games for the latecomers to play whenever they decided to come…

Sometimes, being productive feels like a curse.

Azul sighs aloud to no one in particular, settling himself by a checkers board. There’s nothing he can really do now unless he wants to study, but at the same time, he may not even have enough time to actually get in the mindset for it.

So he pulls out his phone and opens Magicam to do some people-studying.

Normally, he leaves this kind of thing up to Floyd and Jade (if it’s information-gathering), or consults Cater for help (if it’s marketing-related); his personal account remains woefully untouched much of the time compared to the official Mostro Lounge one. But it never hurts to take matters into his own hands.

(…Even if it means looking through the profile of the person he’s been observing in-person for the past week?)

Azul pulls up Davis’ account.

(Yes it does, apparently.)

Thinking back proudly on how he’d convinced the other sophomore—who had his account set to private, a wise move as someone attending an arcane academy—to accept his follow request the other day, he finally has the time and excuse to go through his posts.

There’s a girl who looks around the same age as Davis featuring in almost all of his few posts. Azul’s first instinct, as someone who has matchmade many a pair in his day (unfortunately), is to wonder if they’re involved.

But upon further examination, they have the same facial structure, roughly, and where his hair is brown with blonde streaks hers is dirty blonde with a few more prominent brown streaks. After quickly going through some of her posts, too, she has him tagged as her brother—so it seems they’re familially related, after all. And Davis also has one or two posts featuring what seems to be his whole family: consisting of their parents, him and his sister, as well as a presumed younger brother. They all look happy just being with each other, and in every photo there’s a soft light in Davis’ eyes that Azul can’t recall ever seeing before.

He finds himself thinking of his own little family—just him, his loving mother, and his equally-supportive stepfather—and doesn’t realize the fond smile forming on his lips until it’s too late.

“Someone looks happy.”

Azul snaps both his expression back to normal and his head up, spotting Davis setting down his bag and sitting in the chair across from him.

“Sorry I’m late,” adds Davis, instead of elaborating on his previous sentence. “Someone started a fight in the courtyard.”

Judging by how his clothes are relatively clean and free of, say, charred spots from fire magic—Azul freely assumes he managed to not get caught up in it. “At least you came.” He puts on his best mock-sorrow face, saying, “Why, I was so despondent all on my lonesome…”

Davis gives him a flat look.

“Alright, alright.” Azul dismissively waves his free hand. “Don’t worry about being late. I wasn’t doing much except looking at your Magicam posts.”

“Can I… ask why?” inquires Davis, sounding more skeptical by the second. However, there’s also something about his tired expression that indicates he was expecting to hear this at some point.

(Which, rude. Azul only does a little snooping when it comes to online profiles.)

“I wasn’t aware you had siblings,” Azul explains, “but in hindsight, it seems to explain your behavior around the freshmen… Why, remember how you saw Chrysos coming out of his room the other day and fussed over him?”

Davis flushes pink across his cheeks and all the way to his ears. “I thought it was justified! He looked so pale and dizzy, like my little brother when he’s sick, and I got worried…”

Azul can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “It’s not a bad thing,” he assures.

It’d actually earned Davis some favor with Azul and the Leeches, but he wouldn’t voice that just yet.

“The death glares Chrysos was giving me sure had me thinking it was,” Davis mutters. “But, yeah, I’ve got a twin sister and a little brother. They’re gonna give me grey hairs.” For a change, he leans over and asks out of curiosity, “What’s your family like?”

“Mine? Well…” Almost subconsciously, Azul’s chest puffs a little with pride, and he can’t help talking about them. “It’s just me and my mother, plus my stepfather, but I’d say we’re rather close-knit. My mother runs a restaurant, you see, and my stepfather’s experience in law helped make it what it is today. I’ve many fond memories with the two of them.”

Davis is looking at him with something like surprise on his face—surprised awe, maybe. Azul’s affectionate tone regarding his family certainly wouldn’t fit his supposed mental image of a traumatized but cold-hearted capitalist. “That’s… I don’t want to call it surprisingly sweet, but it’s wholesome. So that must be why you established the Mostro Lounge.”

“Naturally,” says Azul with a smile.

“That’s nice,” Davis replies, sounding genuine as he nods. “That makes me wonder… Did you have someone who inspired you to be a mage, then?”

Like iridescent soap bubbles, Azul recalls memories of—

“My grandmother. She’s a very skilled mage who always uses her powers to help the less fortunate. What about you?”

He’s not expecting a full answer, of course, but…

“For me, it was my dad.” Davis rests his cheek on his palm, almost chuckling with nostalgia. “He’s the only one in our family who could use magic, and I thought it was the coolest thing growing up. You can imagine my joy when I got my magic in middle school and found out I was just a late bloomer.”

Azul looks at him in surprise. “You were a late bloomer? But I heard the entrance requirements for Royal Sword are far stricter than Night Raven’s.”

“Yeah, well, I was a really motivated preteen,” admits Davis. “If I wasn’t studying, I was practicing magic—and I eventually got the invitation.”

…

(It… reminds Azul a little of himself.)

“Seems like we’ve both worked hard to earn our rights as mages,” Azul remarks, leaning over the table and (sort of) beaming at Davis with his chin resting on his intertwined hands. “Looks like we’re quite similar, after all.”

As if remembering himself and his skepticism, Davis huffs. “Hey, no need to lump me in with you—”

“A-Am I… interrupting something?”

They both whip their heads to look over at the door, where Idia is clinging to its frame for dear life. Azul becomes acutely aware of two things: that he is only maybe a hand’s length away from Davis’ face, and that Idia is a notorious maker of assumptions like everyone else at this school.

“Nope,” immediately replies Davis at the same time that Azul says, “Not at all.”

“Y…You sure?”

“Positive,” Azul insists, delicately adjusting his glasses with his index finger and thumb. “You’re just on time, actually.” Where ever did the time go? “Davis and I were in the middle of discussing what we should play today.”

In the corner of his vision, he sees Davis bite his lower lip to avoid pointing out the obvious lie.

“…If you say so.” Idia pulls up another chair and sits down, not looking convinced in the least. “S-so… what did you decide on playing?”

Davis and Azul meet eyes for a moment, and Azul glances back at Idia. “How about…”

—

(Day 14 - Thursday.)

The Mostro Lounge is quieter than usual: the sound of customers chatting is only about as loud as the jazz accompaniment being played from the overhead speakers. Here and there, a few tables are completely empty.

Normally, Davis wouldn’t come here of his own volition. Normally. He has the excuse that some of his dormmates tried to have a—for lack of a better metaphorical phrase—dick-measuring contest with him. It’s not that he can’t hold his own in a battle of wits or fists, but he wanted to study. And…

He looks over at a very noticeable head of styled, pale hair belonging to a certain octopus merman amid the hustle of waiters on the other side of the restaurant.

(…at what point did he start considering Azul as the lesser of a few evils, again? Even in a social setting? Wasn’t the point to humble him, not—not this?)

A voice, soft and melodious, snaps him from his thoughts—

“Jayme?”

“Ah…” Davis looks over to see Chrysos, in a waiter’s version of the Octavinelle uniform, standing by his table. “Chrysos. You’re not sick anymore?”

Chrysos doesn’t blush at the reference to the fever that had kept him out of commission for a whole week, but it seems like a near thing. “I’m well enough to wait on tables,” he insists, his curls framing his face in a bashful way.

Davis nods. “In that case, I’ll try that new matcha latte Jade keeps advertising.”

“Noted. Just pay when you’re finished.” Chrysos starts to leave, but pauses and turns back around. “I’ll tell the housewarden you’re here, too.”

“Wait, isn’t he working right now—”

The freshman heads to the kitchen, leaving no room for protests. On his way there, he taps Azul on the shoulder and says something made inaudible by distance.

Davis sighs and pulls out his spell textbook. Hopefully Azul knows his priorities and keeps working…

(But it’s kind of lonely to just study on his own—)

…or not, because it’s only a matter of minutes before the other sophomore slides into the seat next to him.

“Ashengrotto?” Davis asks in disbelief. “Aren’t you… you know… on the clock?”

Azul smirks. “I get one break per shift, and I always use them wisely.”

“Is…” Davis pauses as he eyes the people around them, who may or may not be looking their way. “Is spending your time on me your definition of wise?”

“Ahh, but you’re the one who came here to study, aren’t you?” Azul glances at the textbook on the table, at an equal distance between them. “It’s almost like you wanted to give me this opportunity.”

“Uh, no—” Because he did come to study in peace, but at the same time, after two weeks he was beginning to get used to studying with Azul, so that may or may not have been a lie…

“It’s alright,” Azul says in a tone that sounds more mirthfully self-assured than soothing, “I understand. It’s better being with me than with your fellow Savanaclaw members, isn’t it?”

“…To some degree,” Davis admits begrudgingly. “At least if I want to get work done. Their studying ethics aren’t exactly anything worth bragging about, but I’m sure you know that.”

“All too well. So”—Azul gestures at his still-unopened textbook—“brushing up on spells, are we?”

Right, the textbook. “Not just brushing up, learning.” Davis flips it open to a bookmarked page in the more advanced section to prove his point.

Azul’s eyes light up a bit with interest. “Learning new ones? My, aren’t you ambitious.”

“No more than you are,” Davis fires back, more lightheartedly than he’d like to admit.

“Right, right.” Azul smiles and tilts his head. “So, what are you looking into?”

“Well… On top of practical magic, the juniors are also tested on certain elemental spells every year. I want to get them down to like second nature before then.”

“Oh, yes, the more complex spells needed to pass the magical combat class?”

“Yeah. To be honest, I’ve always been better at cosmic spells and it shows, so I really should practice at least a little…”

…and Davis, without realizing it, starts to lose track of time while discussing spells and such with Azul.

“…To be honest, it’s hard to generate a flame barrier strong enough that will block water spells…”

“That’s where the water manipulation comes into play, no? I recall seeing a returning senior turn the resulting steam into a barrier of its own…”

“Really? That’s… actually quite smart if you have a solid grasp over all elements, and it’d be good to have more variety with my magic…”

At some point, Chrysos returns quietly and sets Davis’ drink on the table before leaving as swiftly as he came. Azul slides it over and Davis takes it with a semblance of a second thought, continuing their little chat.

It isn’t until Azul’s fifteen-minute break is over and he has to get back to work that Davis realizes—

Ah.

He’s fallen right into Azul’s trap, hasn’t he? Somehow, at some point, his guard has already slipped a little…

…But for some reason, he can’t find it in himself to be that mad about it.

#kai's writing #twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #twst oc #davis jayme #chrysos pendentif #guys im not tagging all those other characters #but . yeah. although these two have known each other for a year by this point #they aren't necessarily well-known (at least personally) to each other bc thats just how they are #azul let go of profiting from davis a while back and davis also went out of his way to ignore azul at the time #but now they're starting to get to know each other more and #see themselves in each other !#vibrates. im normal abt my oc/canon ships (lying)

2 notes · View notes

random-cryptid · 5 months

Note

ok so, i made a lil dolly of ms frizzle and now all i can think about is making lil dollies of winnie, mary, and sarah and i am going nuts over it

i think the three of them would love the fact that i wanna make lil dolls of them, especially winnie. like, theyve never had anyone do that to them, so the thought of me trying out something ive never done before just so i can always have them with me would make all three of them melt faster than honey in hot tea

i'd have to ask mary and winnie how the fuck they do their hair like that cuz idk how to draw it, let alone recreate it with yarn shhdhdj. oh! and i'd have to ask sarah if she has any tips for making the clothes cuz i dont really know how to make clothes in general, let alone doll clothes

ik the dolls are gonna look really skrunkly and messy, but i think they'd be super proud of me for trying something new, and over the moon that i chose the three of them to be my muses for it.

YEAH I SAW YOUR LIL MS FRIZZLE DOLL SHE'S SO CUTE 😭😭😭 ALSO PLEASE DO!!!

I think Mary would be climbing walls (metaphorically) too ngl. I believe she's an arts and crafts girly (not as much as Sarah though but definitely does some clothes and such too!) so she would find it especially cute.

I believe I can help with the hair and clothes!!!

Winifred's hair is pretty much the same as Queen Elizabeth I, and this tutorial is pretty easy to follow! Definitely not historically accurate in the techniques but it's the same shape lol. Basically her hair is just two big buns!

Mary's hair however... I can't by the life of myself figure out how her hair works (my hypothesis is that her hair is twisted into shape... Kind of.) apart from her having one tiny braid going along the whole hat shape of her hair.

All the tutorials I've seen for her hair have in common using wires and some sort of cilinder to shape her hair tho!!! This is one of the easiest ones I've seen. (Btw it's crazy to me how this lady has her exact vibe)

Now for the clothes you can check Salvador Perez's Instagram account! (He's the costume designer from the second movie) But if you don't want to scroll too much it's okay I gotcha! Here you have:

• Sarah's sleeves (they're sewn in on the corset!)

• Sarah's corset (you don't have to embroider anything, I think it's better if you use markers instead)

• Winnie's top gown + accessories (basically her full gown is two pieces: the top one, which is the deeper green one, and the under one, which is the one with purple and a lighter green)

• Mary's full outfit + details (this one's just a general idea)

• Mary's corset + sparkles (once again, more of a general idea)

• The Sister's shoes + thighs + undergarments (looove love Winnie's boots ngl)

Making sewing patterns is basically like making puzzle pieces and putting them together, so getting the shapes shouldn't be too complicated! In any case, if you need help with that I can help you out! (Unfortunately I'm no taylor but I'll do my best). You can also look up tutorials for specific things like skirts! (They're actually one of the easiest things to make!)

#Yes I've been saving this references since the movie came out #both bc costume design is one of my special interests AND because I too want to make the sisters as dolls #although in my case more like bjd. and my designs of the sisters #I hope this is of any help to you #hocus pocus #hocus pocus 2 #asking the ghost #obviously you don't have to make them as detailed as this unless you wanna #I'm just a reference hoarder

2 notes · View notes

mel-the-pirate-writeblr · 1 year

Text

M(T)PJ: Characters

This is just a thing I figured I should write, to introduce my characters. First up, my Pokémon characters (shocker)! This is still a work in progress!

Blog Masterlist

Crystal Fairway/Pearl

Crystal's backstory is really my own history with Gen III up to Gen V games - LeafGreen, Pearl/Platinum, HeartGold, and Black. That being said, she starts out as a sixteen year old in these stories, having gone through the events of LG, P/Pt, and B but not the Team Plasma plot. They are largely underground while she wanders half of Unova. Things I deviated from my own playthrough of LG is that "Kevin," my real-life sibling, beat the Elite Four and Blue (Gary) literal years before me. In the story, Crystal beat them first, but Kevin came and usurped her and has been the reigning Champion ever since. I wanted Crystal to have that record in her history, but I wanted Kevin to hold the title of Indigo Champion.

So, who is Crystal? Physically, she is a girl with long brown hair and hazel eyes - guess why? She usually wears a grey vest over weather/season appropriate clothing - so, think tank tops in the sumer, T-shirts in the warmer halves of spring and fall with long-sleeves in the colder halves. I'm never really consistent with her pants/shorts, it depends on what I like in the moment. But the style is the same: black, with a yellow line down the side, and a Team Instinct patch/embroidered insignia located around the outside mid-thigh. Once Black came out, I really liked the look that the girl Trainer character had, and largely simplified the mental design I had for her off of things I actually own/owned (not including Instinct shorts, sadly).

Kevin Fairway

Kevin, while based on my brother in existing and history, is probably not very accurate to my own brother. I'm very bad at portraying people in my life into my stories, so Kevin is heavily inspired by my "Kevin" but is not necessarily based off of him. He played the counterpart games to mine, FireRed, Diamond, we both did Platinum, SoulSilver, and White. He also got a glitched Crystal cartridge, though it could not save it's game. I had imagined that Kevin and Crystal mostly travelled together, up until Unova, since really, when I think about it, that kind of accidentally mirrors what happened in real life. I don't know if he ever finished White past Zekrom - I never finished Black past Reshiram.

In some way, I kind of imagined Kevin as a mix between FireRed's Red, White's male character, and "Kevin" himself. I never really had a design in mind for Kevin, physically, other than typical Trainer gear (this is actually making me realize how little thought I put into the physical designs of characters). I might end up asking "Kevin" what his choice of outfit would be if he were to go on a Pokémon Journey, even though that's a silly thing to ask. I've also considered the Gen IV Ace Trainer design from both him and Crystal. His Pokémon that I write about are ones that he picked out for me from his own games, like I do for mine, so maybe he'll humor his weirdo sister a little further.

Lidin/???

Another character inspired by real life! Lidin is a stand-in for a good friend of both mine and "Kevin." He knew everything Pokémon, and I asked him so many questions about how to evolve certain Pokémon. This was before I was online, so he (and an incomplete pocket guide of Gen IV) was my only reliable source of Pokémon facts. In the story, he is the friendly rival of the Fairways (they were all rivals to each other). He met up with them in Cerulean City on their first trip while he had already gotten most of his Kanto Gym badges.

Like Kevin, Lidin never really had a set design in my mind. He was a kind of mix of the real-life friend of mine, but also of a few of the male player characters that I am familiar with. Unlike Kevin, he doesn't have any party Pokémon that I asked him to pick out; I know he played one of the Hoenn Gen III games, and had a Mudkip, and when he played one of the HG/SS, he had a Quilava. He does not (so far) appear in the story in any real confrontation sense where he has to use a party Pokémon, he is there for support.

Also, unlike "Kevin," "Lidin" may or may not know this character exists or that I have a Pokémon fanfiction at all. There is a chance he does, especially recently, since I had some bits and pieces up on an inactive dA, which he recently asked what the old username was for it. But I haven't ever directly told him about this.

Brandon

This is an antagonistic character I made up to help me limp through using canonical characters. Just as I have a hard time writing real people into my stories beyond inspiration, I have a hard time making canonical characters flexible and realistic and have them act in-character. He is one of Giovanni's Admins, so he has some sway and power within Team Rocket that is nothing to sneeze at.

Asked: Brandon's motivations

Pika

He is a Pikachu in the PMD: Explorers of Sky game. I have both Time and Sky, and both times, I have had Pika by my side. He is the partner Pokemon, he is an anxious little guy but he has determination enough to make up for it on occasion. He is learning to be confident and he cares about everyone being happy and doing well in life and in their goals! He's just a little guy :D

Kip

He is a Mudkip. I'll give the hint that his history is a bit of a mystery! However, he is a quiet Pokemon (not in Nature, just in general), and reserved, but also has a keen eye for details. He tries to help Pearl through some of the issues she goes through with relearning her history, and tries to keep the group more-or-less level-headed.

She is an Eevee, and she is another characetr based off of a real-life person! While I'm trying to nail down her personality a bit more, I do know that she, a) is very passionate about exploration, like Pika, b)is very knowledgeable, like Hex, and c) is very capable of handling herself. She has some insights, in the few chapters that she's been in for the PMD fic, into Pearl's situation, and some advice, and provides some questions that Pearl has to answer to herself. Like Kip, Ev is a bit more on the quiet side. Her backstory is a bit of a mystery, too! Though she isn't from the Grass Continent, where EoS is. She's from the Air Continent, if memory serves.

Hex

She is a Vulpix, and originally, she was going to be a different version of Crystal/Pearl. "Different Futures" was going to be one Crystal going back to her right dimension, and the other was her staying (but also being from a human dimension, I think that's how it went). I scrapped it early on, but I kept Hex as a character because I think she's fun!

She is the unofficial leader of Team PokeClan, made up of Pika, Kip, Pearl, Ev, and herself. She insists that no one is the leader, but she has the skills and intuition that shine really well when she leads them and takes charge. She will go to bat for her teammates, but she will also tell it how it is afterward, if it was wrong -- and she does, at one point.

Updated: April 30, 2023

#crystal oc #crystal/pearl oc #kevin oc #lidin oc #m(t)pj: characters #brandon oc #kip oc #ev oc #pika oc #hex oc

1 note · View note

quickunfinished · 1 year

Text

A very rough draft

Every time it rains the window sounds like static. Or well, a static sound effect. Its been decades since the last cable tv went offline and now the only proof of these classic sound effects we have is recordings. Long ago digitized and used for atmosphere, ripped out of context.

Thats what the rain on my window sounds like. Its a comforting noise almost, it feels real compared to everything else in my room. Polyester bedsheets, vynl vaneer wood desk, peeling wallpaper that once looked like a sky blue, now rotted and decayed into a dark twisted green that looked purple when i pulled up the blinds and let the light pour in from the glowing sign.

My desk is cluttered. Always has been. Its been covered in failed projects and trashed stories since i could remember. Theres an ash tray on my desk which i reporpused to be an insence burner. Its black vaneer has chipped away, letting the copper underneath rust to be a sickly green.

Back when i had a monitor that was always messy too. Spilled drinks left resisue i never bothered to clean, and my keyboard had a thick layer of dust and danderuff in it. I dont really have a monitor anymore however. The biolink is simply more convenient, and with my biolink head jack its trivial to plug myself into my computer and get anything i want beamed into my mind. Image fidelity isnt even a factor, the space is constructed arround me, and i can view it better than any human eye could.

Just like every other day i sit down in my pleather chair to jack in. Its comfortable, but the fake leather is peeling, the cotton is coming out, and some of the staples are coming out. I have a jack stand, which just surmounts to an aluminum bracket, poorly mounted on the wall to hold the biojack cable.

Once i slip the cable in and shut my eyes a world emerges from the blackness, with a luxorious living room with a white fur rug, a black table, and elegant walls. Everything has gold accents, and an inset triangle pattern, looping and getting fractally smaller and smaller.

The house has no walls aside from its outer walls, and is built in an L shape. At any given point you can generally only see 2/3 of the house, and with some clever cubic bookshelves it gives the house little spots with designated functions. The southernmost chunk is the trophy room. Any acomplishment ive made gets its own section of shelf to be celebrated. As you walk through the golden trophies shimmer in the beautiful light as you wander. Its a small space but you can get lost easily enough.

Then theres the livingroom, which is in the corner. This is where you go if youve just entered from cyberspace which has a tinted glass door, which leads into the hub automatically. It has a fur rug, topped by a black coffee table and a stark white leather couch. There is a digital screen which hovers just infront of the wall, perfectly flat and 2 dimensional. Yeah i still watch flat media, im a hipster. Bite me.

Then in the final corner i have my artspace. I make money by selling 3d models. I do some client work but mostly i make generic models and sell the rights for cheap. I loved it.

I step to my digital mirror in my room and my avatar stares back at me. A tall woman, with a short black haircut and sharp facial features. This isnt what i look like in real life, but it makes me look hotter, so thats ok.

Currently my character is wearing a black coat and a white undershirt, with an accent in the form of an embroidered chain on the edges of the coat. I contemplate weather or not a tie would work, and flip flop before deciding to ditch the tie.

Once i have it on i walk up to the door and type "the glitz#1027" into the destination console. Every cyberspot has a name and a number tag associated with it, and the spot im going to is one of my favorites, as it fits my aesthetic perfectly. Hell i know the owner and designed a good portion of their furniture

When i get there i walk in, claim my reservation spot, and wait. And wait. Finally she arrives. Shes stunning. Bright red dress, with an opening along the legs to reveal her thighs, and her curves highlighted by the light. She sits with a dainty grace, and smiles at me with that gorgeous smile. We've been dating for about 5 weeks now and yet she is still as gorgeous as the day i first saw her.

She takes a seat and we begin talking. Its as if the whole world fades away, and her silky smooth voice is the only thing that matters. Her velvet red lips move sensually and her face looks elegant and pointed, as though she has been crafted to appeal to every sense of mine. After an hour of talking i eventually screw up the courage and ask "when am i gonna get to see your place?" "Huh?" "Well i wanna know more about you" "haha, anyways" and she continues on.

Come to think of it i dont remember what she was saying. I cant remember a single conversation with her, so i pull out my console and check her information. I keep nodding yes as she speaks as i dig through. Shit, her info is password protected. I pull out a brute force module and plug it into the console and within miliseconds its tried every possible combination, and found a password. "FhRc#9926!"

Shit. Fake human, real connection. Those scumbags. They make virtual sex dolls. Fuck fuck no it cant be. I look through her information more. Fuck what is her name even? Fuck bro, an agreement module? A charm module? How did she get permissions to run these? God damnit. When i turn them off i see a green mesh facing me. Just ones and zeroes, humming, and being processed to sound like charming speech.

My fucking god she was a chatbot the whole time. I disconnect from the glitz immediately and i sit onto the white couch. Fuck bro this couch isnt real either. The fur on the rug never belonged to an animal, the trophies are 3d models, with a shiny texture. None of it is real. God im a fool, fuck FuCk FuCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

I disconnect and open my eyes, immediately launching myself out of my pleather chair and on my knees. My hands are on my biojack, where protrudes from the back of my head. I get my hands on the jackplate, and i pry, and I pry, and I pry. The pain fills every ounce of being, every logical part of my brain is telling me to stop, but i keep pulling. Eventually i yank the biochip out of my head, as blood and brain matter splatters across the room.

Pain. The only thing my mind feels is pain. My entire body is involuntairily recoiling from the pain. Eventually the pain subsides into an intense heat. The world seems to fade arround me and my honest room goes dark.

1 note · View note

strawberryybird · 2 years

Text

happy 1 year to my government!au fic lol . can’t believe ive been Thinking Incessantly about this thing for a whole year .

i am saying this out loud where people can see it bc a) aint nobody else going to be proud of me about it so im proud of me about it. b) 2nd worst year of my life so far & i’m still kicking & swearing so it feels a little bit good to see the milestone happen.

anyway it’s been disgustingly difficult to work in character descriptions in a way that doesn’t sound like enoby dark’ness dementia raven way so to celebrate 1 whole year of fic writing here’s the background info on my ocs:

90% of this will never, ever be mentioned in the fic. like it’s all superfluous info to everyone who isn’t me. but here we go lol

amos amsbury: middle tier pegasus knight, black, fire emblem lordship blue hair in very close curls kept short. no jewellery to comply with the pegasus corps guidelines, but wears little pearl earrings on his off-days. knits all his own jumpers. allergic to shellfish. looks complacent only in relief of bunny & clara, but equally as ridiculous. he has 4 siblings - 3 older sisters & a younger brother. very close to his grandparents growing up, totally his grandma’s favourite child as he likes the same music as his late grandfather & she taught him how to knit/fibercraft. his family live 1hr30 ~ from the capital, but due to working ridiculous hours, he doesn’t see them very often. wanted to work with (winged)horses from childhood. has made knitted blankets for sister 2′s children but is making a quilt for sister 1′s new kid.

benjamin ‘bunny’ bunbury: the Prime Minister’s office assistant, tanned & covered in freckles, rib-length rose-colour curly hair he keeps in a half-ponytail or a bun with quills stuck in it. punctuated by gold jewellery (he’s fond of brooches and asymetrical earrings). dresses like a victorian dandy with a rolodex of embroidered waistcoats. ridiculous sweet tooth. disgustingly upbeat & very much a morning person, to the chagrin of the other 2. his mother was one of dorothea’s close friends from the mittlefrank who died in the war. one of the conductors and his wife stepped in to raise him & dorothea felt an obligation to act as his godmother. she used to take him for ice cream at the port in enbarr. can’t actually cook food worthy of the name. went in for the heron cup at GM but came 2nd place.

clara chasuble: office assistant to minister von vestra, paler than parchment, deep purple hair - shoulder length, a bit limp, full fringe. wears glasses (shocking eyesight) with thin metal frames - squished rectangle shape. fastidiously wears matching silver stud earrings. wears office formal like its a school uniform - tie, trousers, blazer. lactose intollerant. makes homemade fudge with almond milk once a year (or bunny would not leave her flat ever). the one most likely to consider the consquences of actions, but not in a way that prevents her from being as equally ridiculous as the other two. she has 2 mums & 3 younger siblings under 10 y/o that she’s not particularly close with bc her mums won’t talk about the war inside the house. her family live south of enbarr proper, close to the port. earned an academic merit scholarship that would pay half her accomodation bill at GM, which is why she could reasonably affort to go. deputy head student of the beagle house in her cohort.

if the hair colours didn’t tip u off, they’re all bisexual (icons). and they’re hurtling towards a politically allegorical polyam triad. first and foremost they are shakespearian gravediggers before they are characters. to be in love with each other is the point of them. to be burdened with inglorious metaphors is the other point of them all. they’re supposed to reflect the relationships/foreign policies between each nation in fodlan: clara is supposed to mirror faerghus, bunny for leicester, amos for adrestia. the second point of them is to make ferdinand and hubert look ridiculous for hiring younger versions of themselves/their best friends, depending which way you want to look at it. i have a ridiculous amount of backstory for what are, ostensibly, political allegories. i think its all very funny. i am putting my intentions here just for posterity because it’s been a year & i’ve literally been planning endgame oc triad from ch4 and good god. i had to say it out loud.

where bunny & clara are effectively the derrivative of ferdinand-dorothea and hubert-edelgard, amos is the same blend of character traits from sumia and chrom fire emblem awaking. i deal *only* in references and intertextuality hahaha

#birb says what //#red tape!au #not to have emotions where people can see them but literally this fic has been so much fun to me #anyywayy here's the oc lore drop absolutely no one asked about #i have more to say but like god i need to get back to my actual work so badly #im aware my fic is not actually as good as it is in my head but i swear to god. i'll make it so. eventually. maybe by this time next year.

1 note · View note

drabbleitout · 2 years

Text

Find the Word Tag Game

Double Tag By: @spacetimewraithwrites over here and @winterandwords over here! My Words: fold, flower, furrow, free, fresh, flesh, lift, carry, drop, & move. Tagging: @asomeoneperson, @northernrosewritings, @kjscottwrites, @ashen-crest, @emelkae, & anyone else who would like to join! (As always, please don't feel pressured or rushed!) Your Words: Lead, Linger, Loose, Lump, & Law

Fold(er)

“And here I thought you’d like crowded places that smelt like booze.” Beau shuffled to an appropriate berth, moving along with the line. He searched for the mapping of Garnet’s face against [the nightclub's] records, not surprised to find him in their denial folder –only not for the reason he expected. “What're you making that face for?” Garnet scoffed. Beau regarded him for a moment, smirking. “You’ve been here before.” “Probably,” Garnet shrugged. “You were arrested here.” “Drop it.” He went serious, eyes narrowing.

Flower(s)

“This way,” [Duras] smiled, calm and welcoming, offering out an arm in signal to walk with her. He obliged, hooking his elbow in hers as they started for the stairs. “You’re going to be the next best thing, B-Zero. Just wait and see.” She took no mind to the climb, having no trouble in her thin heels and pencil skirt suit. White, it was embroidered with several flowers, a symbol famous for BloomingTech. Even her hair was neatly fixed into a bun, pinned to mimic the daisy shape. “It’s just like taking you to school, on your first day.” She patted his arm again, both stepping into the automatic doors.

Furrow(ed)

“Nose on the ground!” Garnet palmed the man’s head, shoving his face to the floor. “You’ve been a pain in my ass for months, Benton. Can’t you let a guy have a coffee break before you start tearing shit up again?” He glanced up to the pair standing in the hall, double-taking for a better look at Beau. His brow furrowed, nose wrinkled, crooked and swollen from being broken –perhaps once or twice. Most of his face was harsh from previous injuries, looking similar to the face of a professional boxer. An unsuccessful one. Benton tried squirming free again. “Allow me, Lieutenant,” more officers were in the hall, one crouching down to help detain Benton. “Step off, Shitbox. I got ‘im.”

Free

Beau took the lighter. With one, effortless try, he woke a flame from the jet, holding it out to shelter from the blowing snow. Garnet slouched to meet it, taking a few drags before it took. Beau closed the lighter, sliding it back into Garnet’s jean pocket. “Why is it,” Garnet paused to pull the cigarette from his mouth, “you never tell me to stop smoking?” “Because my métier isn’t medical. It’s not my place to advise you how to live your life. And to make you stop smoking would be taking away your free will.” “And here GodHead’s worried you’re gonna go full Terminator and enslave us.” “Too much work, in my opinion,” Beau grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Besides, if you’re asking me why I don’t ask you, you already know it isn’t good for you. Telling you to stop would be redundant, a waste of time and energy.”

Fresh

I only have one of these and, strangely, it's too spoilery to post lol

Flesh Skin

Ives was made for destruction, to be brutal and vicious. He knew how to protect, going to that apartment building and wading through bullets and violence to get to Ryker had been simple. Natural. But having him there, soft skin and warm breath made Ives distrust himself. He’d lost control in the raid. Seeing Ryker in his battered state, he’d killed two people. And what if he lost control now? What if he hurt Ryker? Warm hands cupped his face, unsure how long he sat there in his panicked daze, pulled into focus as thumbs caressed his cheeks. “You okay?” Ryker whispered.

Lift(ing), Drop, & Mov(ing)

“Drop your weapons!” Ryker was suddenly there beside Beau. He was riddled with cuts and bruises on his face and arms. “Stand down.” Garnet echoed him, moving past into the group for arrests. A hand on Beau’s shoulder drew his attention up to Ryker. “Where did you get this?” He nodded to the rifle. “Ives gave it to me.” “Ives…?” But his face paled, carefully lifting the rifle out of his grip. “Alright, let’s… how about you let me deal with this, and you call for transport?” “Yes, sir.” “And Beau?” Ryker regarded him for another moment, “Let’s not tell anyone about this, alright? We’ll keep it a secret. Think you can keep this a secret?” “Of course!” Beau smiled. “I can keep a secret.”

Carry

“Hey, look at me. Look at me, Ives. Eye contact,” reluctantly he did so, tearing his stare from Ryker to look Garnet in the eyes. “He’s gonna be alright, okay? We need to get him upstairs to a medic. Can you carry him?” “Yes,” he calculated his bearings, Garnet helping him gather Ryker up in his arms, sure to tuck his head against his shoulder. He stood with Ives, still speaking calmly. “Down the hall, up the stairs, to the lobby –just don’t drop him.”

#tag game #wip: tb

9 notes · View notes

istumpysk · 3 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AGOT: Eddard IV (Chapter 20)

"Yes, my lord," the steward said. "We have given you Lord Arryn's former chambers in the Tower of the Hand, if it please you. I shall have your things taken there."

Ned, take my advice, sleep anywhere else.

+.+

His hand left powder stains on Ned's sleeve, and he smelled as foul and sweet as flowers on a grave.

Varys, smellin’ like foul perfumed sweetness. Love it, love it.

+.+

"Lord Renly spends more on clothing than half the ladies of the court."

It was true enough. Lord Renly was in dark green velvet, with a dozen golden stags embroidered on his doublet. A cloth-of-gold half cape was draped casually across one shoulder, fastened with an emerald brooch. "There are worse crimes," Renly said with a laugh. "The way you dress, for one."

Renly Baratheon still sitting #1 in the Best Baratheon Brother ranking.

Stay tuned for further updates.

+.+

He eyed Ned with a smile on his lips that bordered on insolence. "I have hoped to meet you for some years, Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn has mentioned me to you."

"She has," Ned replied with a chill in his voice. The sly arrogance of the comment rankled him. "I understand you knew my brother Brandon as well."

🔥

+.+

"I should have thought that heat ill suits you Starks," Littlefinger said. "Here in the south, they say you are all made of ice, and melt when you ride below the Neck."

Am I crazy in thinking that saying this to the Hand of the King, when his father was famously burned alive in that very castle, is the type of blunder that would get you dismissed from your royal duties and cost you a few titles?

+.+

He had only to look at Sansa's face to feel the rage twisting inside him once again. The last fortnight of their journey had been a misery. Sansa blamed Arya and told her that it should have been Nymeria who died. And Arya was lost after she heard what had happened to her butcher's boy. Sansa cried herself to sleep, Arya brooded silently all day long, and Eddard Stark dreamed of a frozen hell reserved for the Starks of Winterfell.

It seems Eddard Stark has prophetic dreams as well.

Sansa. :(

+.+

Hesitantly, Ned followed. Littlefinger led him into a tower, down a stair, across a small sunken courtyard, and along a deserted corridor where empty suits of armor stood sentinel along the walls. They were relics of the Targaryens, black steel with dragon scales cresting their helms, now dusty and forgotten.

(...)

Ned studied the rocky face of the bluff for a moment, then followed more slowly. The niches were there, as Littlefinger had promised, shallow cuts that would be invisible from below, unless you knew just where to look for them. The river was a long, dizzying distance below. Ned kept his face pressed to the rock and tried not to look down any more often than he had to.

Where have I read this before?

Along the walls stood empty suits of armor, dark and dusty, their helms crested with rows of scales that continued down their backs.

(...)

Sansa dared not look down. She kept her eyes on the face of the cliff, making certain of each step before reaching for the next. The stone was rough and cold. Sometimes she could feel her fingers slipping, and the handholds were not as evenly spaced as she would have liked.

Keep following papa’s journey, little one.

+.+

Bran's wolf had saved the boy's life, he thought dully. What was it that Jon had said when they found the pups in the snow? Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord. And he had killed Sansa's, and for what? Was it guilt he was feeling? Or fear? If the gods had sent these wolves, what folly had he done?

+.+

"Why should Tyrion Lannister want Bran dead? The boy has never done him harm."

"Do you Starks have nought but snow between your ears?" Littlefinger asked. "The Imp would never have acted alone."

Let’s sidestep answering that question. Subtle, Littlefinger.

+.+

"I had hoped to see the girls …" Catelyn said.

"That would be most unwise," Littlefinger put in. "The Red Keep is full of curious eyes, and children talk."

"He speaks truly, my love," Ned told her.

+.+

Catelyn went to him and took his hands in her own. "I will not forget the help you gave me, Petyr. When your men came for me, I did not know whether they were taking me to a friend or an enemy. I have found you more than a friend. I have found a brother I'd thought lost."

+.+

And from this day on, I want a careful watch kept over Theon Greyjoy. If there is war, we shall have sore need of his father's fleet.

1. Robb Stark, you failed to do this.

2. Love hearing about that valuable Greyjoy fleet! :D

+.+

That was the most dangerous part, Ned knew. "All justice flows from the king," he told her. "When I know the truth, I must go to Robert." And pray that he is the man I think he is, he finished silently, and not the man I fear he has become.

"You knew the man," she said. "The king is a stranger to you." Catelyn remembered the direwolf dead in the snow, the broken antler lodged deep in her throat.

Final thoughts:

I hate everything.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #agot #eddard iv

46 notes · View notes

butterflies-dragons · 3 years

Note

Do you have any doubts that Sansa is the girl in grey? Is there strong grey imagery around Sansa?

I believe Sansa is the grey girl yes, but only GRRM has that answer.

About grey imagery around Sansa, I wrote about it here and there.

Grey is the main Stark color. Their sigil is a grey direwolf in a white field. Stark men wear grey cloaks, Winterfell is made of grey granite, Grey eyes is a Stark feature, etc.

There are some instances where Sansa actually wears or it is said that she will wear a grey cloak:

1.- Her first encounter with Dontos (false Florian) in the Red Keep's Godswood: "Sansa threw a plain grey cloak over her shoulders and picked up the knife she used to cut her meat. If it is some trap, better that I die than let them hurt me more, she told herself. She hid the blade under her cloak."

It is very curious that Dontos was also wearing grey during that first secret encounter: "He wore a dark grey robe with the cowl pulled forward, but when a thin sliver of moonlight touched his cheek, she knew him at once by the blotchy skin and web of broken veins beneath. "Ser Dontos," she breathed, heartbroken. "Was it you?"

2.- Cersei gave her a white and silver maiden cloak for her wedding to Tyrion. Stark colors are grey and white tho... I think in this case the silver is there instead of the grey of House Stark. I'm not sure if this is a mistake or not. "Cersei Lannister ignored the question. "The cloak," she commanded, and the women brought it out: a long cloak of white velvet heavy with pearls. A fierce direwolf was embroidered upon it in silver thread. Sansa looked at it with sudden dread. "Your father's colors," said Cersei, as they fastened it about her neck with a slender silver chain."

Curiously enough, Tyrion wore Targaryen colors to marry Sansa lol

3.- Littlefinger planned for Alayne to reveal her true identity as Sansa Stark wearing a maiden cloak with the Stark colors grey and white: "Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright.

From my answer about certain ship foreshadowing:

What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

In the shadow of the Wall, the direwolf brushed up against his fingers. For half a heartbeat the night came alive with a thousand smells, and Jon Snow heard the crackle of the crust breaking on a patch of old snow. Someone was behind him, he realized suddenly. Someone who smelled warm as a summer day. When he turned he saw Ygritte. She stood beneath the scorched stones of the Lord Commander’s Tower, cloaked in darkness and in memory. The light of the moon was in her hair, her red hair kissed by fire. When he saw that, Jon’s heart leapt into his mouth. “Ygritte,” he said. “Lord Snow.” The voice was Melisandre’s. Surprise made him recoil from her. “Lady Melisandre.” He took a step backwards. “I mistook you for someone else.” At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red. He did not understand how he could have taken her for Ygritte. She was taller, thinner, older, though the moonlight washed years from her face. Mist rose from her nostrils, and from pale hands naked to the night. “You will freeze your fingers off,” Jon warned. “If that is the will of R’hllor. Night’s powers cannot touch one whose heart is bathed in god’s holy fire.” “You heart does not concern me. Just your hands.” “The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you.” “I have no sister.” The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. “What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?” “Arya.” His voice was hoarse. “My half-sister, truly …” “… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VI

Earlier in this chapter, Jon was thinking about Arya and her situation (trapped with the Boltons), and he was frustrated for not being able to help her. Then he remembered Ygritte, he confused Melisandre for Ygritte.

So, reading all the context:

What do you know of my heart, priestess? = This is about Ygritte. He is still hurt and mourning for her.

What do you know of my sister? = This is about Arya and her situation.

This is an excellent example of how GRRM plays with our minds with his tricky words:

“At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red”. He is introducing us to the Grey Girl and her true identity.

Jon thinks he is seeing Ygritte but he was actually seeing Melissandre.

Melisandre and Jon also believe this grey girl of the visions is Arya Stark, but the person trapped with the Boltons is Jeyne Poole. And later, Alys Karstark was not even wearing a “grey” cloak.

For me the grey girl is neither of them. The answer is hidden in this line: “At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red”.

***

"At night all robes are grey" means all the confusion about the grey girl's true identity: Arya or Jeyne or Alys Karstark.

"Yet suddenly hers were red" means that the girl with the grey cloak will be a redhead, like Ygritte and Melisandre the two women Jon was confusing.

So, Sansa as the grey girl makes a lot of sense, she is a redhead and she is a Stark, and grey is the main Stark color.

And this is not the first time that Jon confused Ygritte with another female. Jon dreamed of a ghastly grey direwolf wandering around the Crypts of Winterfell, that seems to be Lady’s Shade:

The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. “Ygritte?” he whispered. “Forgive me. Please.” But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his her golden eyes shining sadly through the dark . .

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

Despite Jon assuming the direwolf was a "he," I strongly suspect it was Lady's Shade. Lady is buried at Winterfell, not Grey Wind. Lady was beheaded with Ice, so her fur would be spotted with blood. And Lady was said to have sad eyes.

So, Jon is always confusing Ygritte with another redheads...

From my Dunk & Jon meta:

Maybe I’m seeing too much here, but the reference to Alysanne Osgrey [Os-Grey] makes me think of Sansa Stark, because:

Sansa shared a lot of parallels with Good Queen Alysanne.

The surname Osgrey has the word grey in it.

Alysanne Osgrey became a Silent Sister.

Silent Sisters always wear grey.

Silent Sisters are known as the Stranger’s wives.

According to Melissandre, the Grey Girl of her visions is Jon Snow’s Sister.

The Grey Girl will probably be Sansa Stark.

Grey is also the color of House Stark, so Sansa is, in a way, a Grey Girl.

Jon is a man that will defeat death and come back to life, like the Stranger that walks between the two worlds.

The Stranger’s face is half animal, like Jon who is a warg, half man and half beast.

From my Jon/Sansa/Winterfell meta:

The stone is strong = The walls of Winterfell = Alayne Stone = Sansa Stark.

Sansa Stark has a lot of stone imagery around her.

Winterfell’s walls are made of grey granite. Grey is also a color of House Stark and I believe that Sansa will be the girl in grey on a dying horse from Melisandre’s vision.

As the Heir to Winterfell, Sansa was practically transformed into a stone castle, Winterfell, and the north itself, since the one that controlled her would obtain all her lands and power. Or, to use the euphemism from the Books, Sansa Stark was the “key to the north.”

Sansa reflects about this objectification in the Books and gives us one of the saddest lines in ASOIAF, especially coming from a girl who yearns to be loved and always dreamed of getting married: “No one will ever marry me for love,” (because everyone only wants her for her claim to Winterfell and the north).

Tyrion associates Sansa’s rejection of his advances as icy courtesy and compared that rejection with a castle wall that he never got to break:

“You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall.” “Courtesy is a lady’s armor,” Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sansa’s misery was deepening every day. Tyrion would gladly have broken through her courtesy to give her what solace he might, but it was no good.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

The castle wall that armored Sansa and Tyrion never got to break is a clear reference to Winterfell:

He remembered Winterfell as he had last seen it. Not as grotesquely huge as Harrenhal, nor as solid and impregnable to look at as Storm’s End, yet there had been a great strength in those stones, a sense that within those walls a man might feel safe.

—A Clash of Kings - Tyrion XI

And certainly, Sansa feels stronger and protected within the walls of Winterfell:

Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.” “As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home.” She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Sansa feeling stronger within the walls of Winterfell, sounds pretty similar to “the stone is strong” line from Bran quote cited above.

Later, while descending from the Eyrie to the Gates of the Moon, Mya Stone tells Sansa that “a stone is a mountain’s daughter.”

Men come and go. They lie, or die, or leave you. A mountain is not a man, though, and a stone is a mountain’s daughter. I trust my father, and I trust my mules. I won’t fall.” She put her hand on a jagged spur of rock, and got to her feet. “Best finish. We have a long way yet to go, and I can smell a storm.”

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

One of Winterfell’s possible meanings is “wintry mountain(s).” And Sansa Stark is “The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter”.

As the daughter of Petyr Baelish, Alayne Stone also becomes the Heir to Harrenhal, another great castle made of strong stone. Only dragon fire was able to melt Harrenhal’s stone walls:

Stone does not burn, Harren had boasted, but his castle was not made of stone alone. […] And even stone will crack and melt if a fire is hot enough. The riverlords outside the castle walls said later that the towers of Harrenhal glowed red against the night, like five great candles… and like candles, they began to twist and melt, as runnels of molten stone ran down their sides.

—The World of Ice and Fire - The Reign of the Dragons: The Conquest

Moreover we have the parallels that Sansa shares with Jenny of Oldstones. And Oldstones serves us as an example of the strength of the stone.

Just like Winterfell was the stronghold of the ancient Kings of Winter, Oldstones was the stronghold of the ancient River Kings (House Mudd of Oldstones), both dynasties descendants of the First Men. And if we read about Oldstones, thinking about Winterfell is an inevitability:

They reached Oldstones after eight more days of steady rain, and made their camp upon the hill overlooking the Blue Fork, within a ruined stronghold of the ancient river kings. Its foundations remained amongst the weeds to show where the walls and keeps had stood, but the local smallfolk had long ago made off with most of the stones to raise their barns and septs and holdfasts. Yet in the center of what once would have been the castle’s yard, a great carved sepulcher still rested, half hidden in waist-high brown grass amongst a stand of ash. The lid of the sepulcher had been carved into a likeness of the man whose bones lay beneath, but the rain and the wind had done their work. The king had worn a beard, they could see, but otherwise his face was smooth and featureless, with only vague suggestions of a mouth, a nose, eyes, and the crown about the temples. His hands folded over the shaft of a stone warhammer that lay upon his chest. Once the warhammer would have been carved with runes that told its name and history, but all that the centuries had worn away. The stone itself was cracked and crumbling at the corners, discolored here and there by spreading white splotches of lichen, while wild roses crept up over the king’s feet almost to his chest.

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V

Despite the pass of time the foundations of Oldstones remained and the stones were even used by the smallfolk to rise new buildings. The stone is really strong.

What also remained despite the centuries was the tomb of King Tristifer IV Mudd, also known as the Hammer of Justice, which immediately reminds me of the crypts of Winterfell and its stone kings sitting on their thrones with their swords across their laps.

And just like songs are still sung about a girl named Jenny from Oldstones who found true love with a Targaryen prince, I’m pretty sure that many songs will be sung about Sansa Stark from Winterfell and her own Targaryen prince.

Finally, is worth mentioning that Stark means “strong” in German. And there’s a theory about House Strong (extinguished) being linked to House Stark.

Stone = Strong = Stark

So by saying the stone is strong, we are also saying the stone is Stark.

Alayne Stone is Sansa Stark.

***

There you have it.

Thanks for your message ♡

#sansa stark #jonsa #anon asks

103 notes · View notes

fandomsnstuff · 4 years

Text

Angus figures everything out and fucks up Lucretia’s whole Thing AU

Lucretia hires angus, innoculates him, and is like this is the deal with those missing people cases you were investigating

Angus says oh okay! This totally and completely satiases my curiosity :)

Internally angus says this is sus as hell

So he does what he does best, he snoops

So angus is snooping and somehow, cause he's a little crime boy who can sneak around real good, he finds the starblaster

He's like what the fuck is this

He gets in, and it's.....odd. he doesnt linger in any one room too long, he just kind of pokes his head into the bedrooms and moves on (he figures he shouldnt stay here too long, lest he get caught)

But the most peculiar thing is how lived in this place looks. There's mismatched furniture with throw pillows and blankets in the common area, a chore chart on the fridge, the bedrooms are all cluttered with knick knacks and clothes, beds unmade, theres a lab with papers scattered around tables and taped to the wall

But one room catches his attention

It's... fairly simple, and emptier than the others. Bookshelf with some books missing, a bare desk, but what catches his attention is the pile of red on the bed

He goes to investigate and finds robes and jackets, all with an odd patch and names embroidered on them

He finds, in this order:

A robe with "lucretia" embroidered on it

A jacket and robe, together as if someone had been wearing them at the same time, with "lup" and "taako"

A jacket with "davenport"

A robe with "merle"

A jacket with "magnus"

(there’s no barry robe cause he fell off the ship with it, these are the robes/jackets lucretia took off of the crew members as she sent them off to their new lives)

Now. This is after crystal kingdom and angus was at the candlenights party. He knows the director's name is lucretia

He knows who Davenport is

He knows who taako, magnus, and merle are

This is pre-LUP incident, so he doesnt know who lup is

Angus, appropriately freaked out, puts them all back and BOLTS

Angus vacates the premises

Runs back to his room

He tries to figure out what this all means, but his thoughts dodge around the obvious conclusion that's right in front of him

Hes too nervous to go back, it's not until the L U P incident that he decides okay. I have to go back

So he goes back. He goes into the room labeled Captain's Quarters (although "captain" has been scratched out and changed to "cap'nport". Angus doesnt think too hard about what that means)

In the desk he finds some folders with the same weird logo as the robes and jackets. He doesnt look in them. Not yet. He can do that back in his room. He cant spend too much time here.

Then he goes to the lab. He doesnt know what hes looking for, but he grabs ones that seem important. A notebook or two. Some papers clipped together. He just grabs and shoves them into his bag and he fuckin bolts again

he looks at what he grabbed and some of it he can read, some of it he can't

They lived in that ship. They were going on a mission for something. They made the grand relics to stop something. Theres a lot of notes on the planes.

Angus recognizes the way some stuff is redacted, and he kind of figures out that there must be another voidfish. And if the directors name was on one of those robes, maybe she has it.

Refuge mission comes and goes

Angus, cause he's so fucking good, is able to sneak back into lucretias personal quarters and finds junior. He fills a water bottle with the ichor and gets the fuck outta there

He gets back to his room, innoculates himself and is like AAAAAAAAAA

Cause he can finally put it all together properly

And he basically pieces together the whole hunger situation himself with the notes he grabbed

The stuff he grabbed from davenports room was the crew's like profiles or whatever from when they got hired on to the mission so angus now knows who lup is

So angus is like oh i GOTTA fix this

So he heads down to the reclaimers dorm with his bottle of ichor

Angus: i need you to drink this Merle: what is it? Angus: voidfish ichor Taako: *laughs* hate to break it to you kid, we already drank the voidfish juice. Angus: just- please? Magnus: yeah alright

So magnus drinks it. His breath catches and he kinda goes weak and he's shaking and he drops to his knees. After a minute or two (or more) he looks up at angus. "Holy shit," he says. He grabs the bottle from where he dropped it and holds it out to taako and merle. "Drink it." He says.

"Yeah alright," merle says. Same deal as with magnus.

Once merle collects himself, they both turn to taako.

"Yeah, alright. Sure. Let's get taako in on this weird party," he says, taking the bottle and drinking

This time, magnus is ready and he catches taako when his knees give out

"Im gonna fucking kill her," taako mumbles into magnus' shoulder, his knuckles white as he grips his shirt.

"You're not gonna kill her."

"Im gonna fucking hit her so HARD, i swear to god."

Taako keeps his face in magnus' shoulder, but magnus and merle watch as angus crosses the room to where taako had left the umbrastaff, and he walks back over to magnus and taako on the floor

"Sir?" Taako looks up at angus. Angus holds the umbrella out, "i think i know where your sister is."

(Lup, meanwhile, in the staff: HEEEEELLLLL YYYYYEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH)

It takes taako a second, but he realizes what angus is saying and scrambles out of magnus' hold and to his feet. He takes the umbrella and lifts it, about to snap it when angus says, "wait!"

Taako glares at him. "Ive waited ten years, kid. Make it snappy." "Madame director had a holy symbol in her office. I think it would ward against your sister, if shes a lich." "Uuugggggghhhhhhhhh LUCRETIAAAAAA"

The four of them go down planetside under the guise of a magic lesson and not wanting to burn any more "cryptic messages" into the walls

Taako snaps that fuckin umbrella as soon as his feet hit solid ground

Lup's back!

Lup does some magic shit to summon barry, so barold shows up, happy reunion, and then a Discussion on what to do re: davenport not being innoculated and re: lucretia

Their plan boils down to this: thb and angus will go back to the moon and act as if this never happened. As far as lucretia knows, thb are still under junior's influence

As soon as they can get davenport alone without rousing any suspicion, they bring him to their room and innoculate him. Once he's got his memories back, he'll be powerful enough to a) get his bracer off/disable the tracking spell in it and b) get off the base undetected

Davenport will definitely not want to go back to playing butler, so he'll sneak off the base and hang out with lup and barry until lucretia sends the boys to wonderland

When the boys get sent to wonderland, theyll meet up, get the bell all together, and THEN confront lucretia, cause at that point theyll have the whole light, and they'll have Options

So they do just that. They go back and innoculate davenport a few days later, a week at most

A panic ensues once everyone realizes davenport is missing

AND the tracking in his bracer is turning up nothing

Lucretia's blood pressure has never been higher

But everything goes as business per usual

Lucretia, oddly enough, suspects nothing re: the boys ‘cause surely they wouldve confronted her if they remembered

The boys get sent down to wonderland. They meet up with blupjeans and dav at the entrance. With the six of them with all their memories and full access to their skills they take edward and lydia down in like 30 minutes. Tops.

So edward and lydia get their asses thoroughly handed to them by the six of them

(Davenport has the time of his LIFE)

They head back to the lich cave, barry gets in his new body and gets innoculated (the boys brought some ichor with them for him)

Lup possesses barry, then barry-with-lup and dav get in the pocket spa and back up to the moon they go

Lucretia is in her office when avi comes knocking "Uh... director? The boys are coming back." "Already?" "Yeah." "Are you sure it's them?" "Yep."

Lucretia is.... stunned. It's been... an hour and a half. Two, maybe. She has full faith in the boys but they took down wonderland in two hours?????

Not even two hours

She goes to meet them, highly suspicious

But they arrive and, sure enough, it's them. No magic. No tricks. It's them, for sure.

taako has the bell and hes just holding it casually from the top as if it isnt one of the most powerful magic items in existence. And she can tell he isnt thralled, that's just how hes decided to transport it.

Lucretia: ive got to admit, you boys took care of that...much faster than i expected Magnus: ah, it was no big Merle: piece of cake! Taako: yeah, luce, shit was easy. Dunno what you were talkin' about earlier.

And lucretia just freezes. Luce. Thats what taako called her. It’s what they all called her, really, but it’s the nickname Taako took 4 whole cycles to give to her, officially cracking the door of friendship open to her. And she looks him in the eyes and she knows that he knows. And she looks at merle and magnus and she can tell they know, too.

And taako gives her a venomous smile, all teeth, and says, "why dont we go have a little chat, madame director" and she flinches at the way he spits out her title

She doesnt know what to do but nod and turn to leave. As she turns, there's angus, looking up at her with a determined set to his brow, and she knows he knows too

They head back to her office, and taako pulls the pocket spa out, and before lucretia can ask him what hes doing, out walks barry and davenport. And barrys eyes have got that red glow about them, so she knows lup's here too.

"Take down the lich ward, lucretia," barry says.

She does, and now there's a firey, red robed lich among them.

Now this is where things get a little iffy for how they work out but here's what i got

They have a similar confrontation as canon where theyre bickering about staying or going, shield or no shield, and im thinking this is where taako has his "there's a third option" realization

And, because they did extreme wonderland speedrun, and they didnt take a whole extra day to travel to the lich cave and just used fuckin magic to get there, theyre a whole day ahead of where they were in canon

The hunger is close enough at this point tho that they can enact the plan like. Now.

But magnus insists on returning Fisher's baby to them first

As magnus takes junior, lucretia works on getting the base secured and getting the bureau members ready for if the hunger touches down before they can cut it off

Magnus goes down to fisher with the baby, he takes his axe and swings, breaking the tank open

Johann, still alive and now soaking wet, is like dude wtf

Magnus returns the baby and out goes the story and song

Now johann is REALLY like DUDE WTF

Magnus is like im off to save the universe. Peace.

So since theyre a whole day ahead of the hunger, all seven of them go up in the ship

And then they fight and they win and they cut the hunger off and it's rad

The end

#taz au #angus mcdonald #taz balance #magnus burnsides #merle highchurch #taako taaco #taako #taz taako #taz lucretia #lucretia adventurezone

2K notes · View notes

klaus-is-the-real-number-1 · 4 years

Text

The House of the Rising Sun (Number 5 x reader)

A/N: This is an unfinished fic ive had in my drafts for well over a year,, enjoy? based of s1

Crime rates had never been higher, gangs ravaging the city any opportunity they got dealing class A narcotics and carrying out random acts of violence. No one leaves their houses at night, as soon as the sun sets the streets would empty and complete anomie would take place. One ‘gang’ were set above the rest, they were practically the equivalent of the mafia, all dressed in a smartly pressed uniform and operating throughout the entire city, the Umbrella Academy. Rumour has it they all had ‘powers’ of some sort, making them the most powerful gang, even if they didn’t have their ‘powers’ they would still be in the lead having very high levels of violence between them.

The Umbrella Academy all had nicknames, a mere murmur of the said names would send people running like scared dogs, tails between their legs. The most feared of the Umbrella Academy was The Boy, just as him name suggested he was the one no one knew anything about, yes there was rumours but never any solid facts. The Boy had apparently travelled to the future, has a kill count of hundreds and can appear in a flash of blue from thin air, but these are just mad rumours that drift round town.

Dusk set upon the city but you didn’t notice, too busy finishing bouquets in your shop. You ran a small florists on the outskirts of the town, you never caused any trouble and had never stayed late until today. You glanced out the window and gasped, looking at the pitch black sky, feeling your heart rate increase at the thought of walking four blocks in the gang ridden town. As quickly as you could you close the shop, making sure the doors were locked and the solid metal shutters were firmly shut. You leave by the back door, locking it and closing the shutter yet again, not leaving your small life source of a shop to the vengeance of raging gangs who carry out pointless crimes.

Shadows hid your small frame as you quickly walked home, defenceless, hoping to miss anyone out at the late hours of the night. Unfortunately, luck was not playing on your side, from the shadows you could make out a group of lads making their way threateningly down the street. All you could do is pray that you wouldn’t get spotted in the dark shadows.

“Well what do we have here?” You quickened your pace somehow thinking that you could move away from them but you were wrong. You were surrounded like you were feeding bread to a flock of seagulls, if the seagulls were feral and had rabies it would mirror how afraid you were at that moment.

“Sorry!” Is all you were able to squeak out as you were roughly pulled out from the safeness of the dark into the centre of the group, your bag getting ripped off your back. Your frozen, watching them go through the contents of your bad, dumping out all your papers and pens that you had in your bag until finally finding your purse. “Please don’t it’s all I have.”

As soon as the words left your mouth you were on the ground, a numbing pain shooting through the side of your head, you could see heavy droplets of blood hit the floor as your nose bled from the impact. Another sharp impact landed against your ribs as a sob wracked through your shaking body, unable to comprehend how quickly the events had escalated, all you could do now is wait for the next impact but it never came.

“Hey, assholes!” The voice was crisp and sharp, dripping with confidence and authority. “Pick on someone your own size.”

Coins fell to the floor as the gang dropped your bag and your purse and ran, you couldn’t even look up, the thought of someone more threatening than an entire group sent shivers down your hurt body. You didn’t hear footsteps, all you saw from your peripheral vision a blue light and a dark figure. The rustling sound of papers cut through the silent street and the harsh zip of your bag startled you.

“You need to see someone about that.” You look up and were met with none other than The Boy, the most questioned of the Umbrella Academy, dressed in a smart uniform, domino mask securely covering his identity. His fingertips lightly brushed the side of your head, causing you to flinch away. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He said unconvincingly, emotions hidden by the mask.

He held your now packed bag out to you, you lifted yourself off the floor, wincing as you did so. You cautiously took your bag from The Boys hand, holding it loosely in your hand. Taking a step, you stumble, your side collapsing in on it’s self, The Boy caught you, putting his arm around your waist to steady you.

“Here, let me help you home, where do you live?” In your shattered state you told him, and in a blink of blue you were at your door. You messily fumble with your keys as your shaking hands roughly push your door open, dropping your bag into your small apartment.

“Thank you.” The mask clad boy stood before you, hands in his shorts pockets.

“It’s okay,” You couldn’t see his eyes but you knew they were scanning over your body. “Make sure to get your injuries checked over, they got you pretty hard y/n.” Then he was gone.

You lock your door and double check your windows, securing them before limping over to your bathroom, looking at your beaten form in the mirror. Red marks spread over your face and the side of your body, bruising already starting to form, blood stained your white patterned shirt with a now ruined name tag, the thought of work taking over your thoughts, well not all of your thoughts. The Boy was also on your thoughts, his cold emotionless face, half covered by a domino mask, contrasted with the softness of his words, the caring nature of his touch. He’s a crime lord, a dangerous man, yet he showed kindness to you.

Five was angry, he was angry with himself that he didn’t get there quick enough to stop them hurting y/n. She was the only pure thing left in the city and they went for her, defenceless. Five would’ve killed them on the spot if he didn’t want to hurt y/n any more than she already was. He wasn’t actively going out of his way to find y/n, she was sunshine in a grey and broken world.

“Five,” He hadn’t even finished teleporting into his room before Luther started speaking. “We’re not meant to be out on the streets. What were you doing?” Luther’s big frame towered over Five, attempting to threaten him.

“I was out doing what were meant to be doing, keeping our authority through the streets. Haven’t you heard that they’ve been saying we’re weak.” Five snarled at his brother prompting Luther to sigh then walk out. It wasn’t always like this, they could’ve been heroes but Mr Hargreeves only saw the darkness and the powers within them, he made them the best at being the worst and for some it was the end of the line.

An aching agony wracked through your fragile body as your head pounded like a thousand drummers sounding the beating retreat. You hoped a shower would ease any of the pain, warm water running over all of your bruises, the side of your body looking like a black and blue watercolour along your ribs. Your work clothes were just casual, simple, it was one of the upsides of owning your own business. However, you did have an apron, it had different flowers embroidered on it and a simple name tag. A name tag now covered in blood.

Quiet music softly played in the background of your flower shop, you swept the floor in time to the music, swaying your hips as you did so. Heading back to the storage room, you heard the bell to the shop chime, a welcoming noise.

“Hey, how can I help?” The man seemed startled, looking up at the arrangement of bouquets and flashing a quick smile.

“I’d like some flowers for my mom,” He almost hesitated with his words, a soft peach colour present on his cheeks. “I saw your shop yesterday and couldn’t remember the last time anyone had got her any.”

“Awe, that’s super sweet, have any of the bouquets caught your fancy or does she have a flower preference?” The boy in front of you was about the same age as you, maybe older, he had sharp features but they were even out by the softness of his eyes.

He thought for a moment, searching the deepest parts of his brain. “Lilies, she likes lilies.” You smile at his words before looking round your small, compacted shop for any pre-made bouquets.

“We don’t have any made up right now but if you come back,” You look at the clock, thinking about a convenient time for him to come back. “In about 2 hours I’ll have one made up for you?” You give him a sweet smile as he nods. “Great! If you want you can leave your name and number so I can text you when its done.”

You watch him messily write his details on a post it note. Peeling it off the block, you stick it to your notice board, looking at his name as you did so. Five. “I’ll send you a text once your bouquets done!”

“Ok, thank you,” He hesitated as he strained to read your name tag. “Y/n.”

“No problem, Five.” You see a small smile break out on his face as he left the shop. The rest of your day dragged as a slow drip of customers drifted in and out of the shop. You made a large bouquet of different types of lilies for Five, taking extra care to arrange them in the prettiest way you could, making it extra special for his mom.

You admire your handy work, loving when you get special orders being able to be as creative as you want. You send a text to Five saying that he can drop in any time from now until closing to pick them up, you get an almost instant response sending his thanks.

Shouting echoed down the street, sharp crashing of glass cutting through the air. Smoke drifted like ghosts down the street as screams echoed down the road of people coughing, spluttering grasping for breath. Peering out your shop window you saw them again, the lads from the night before, petrol bombs in hand ready to throw. You had to consider you options, quick, close the shutters quickly and run out the back or just run out and risk that they recognise you.

Quickly, you pulled the shutters down as you hear the unruly lads shouting get louder, you think your safe but then you remember the window upstairs, wide open, vulnerable. Taking two steps at a time but you were halfway to the window and heard a ‘get the flower shop’.

A flame like a rabid hare shot past you, shattering on the ground followed by another, hitting the window dead on surrounding you in flame, no escape in a smoke filling room. Smoke licked the walls as smoke danced in your lungs, making you feel lightheaded, blurring you vision. The floor burnt as you dropped to your knees, trying to take in any remaining oxygen, begging for your eyes not to close.

As Five walked back to the flower shop only to be met with shouting, screaming and sirens, noticing the smoke in the air he quickened his pace, only to break out into a sprint at the sight of the small flower shop in flames. He couldn’t see y/n out in the street in front of the shop, in a blind panic he blipped into the shop, looking round and seeing smoke pouring down the stairs, dread filling his body. In a blink of an eye he was in the burning room, finding y/n unconscious on the floor, he grabbed her body and as quickly as he could in the haze of the smoke.

He flashed to the academy, roughly shaking y/n shoulder. “Y/n,” He checked she was still breathing. “y/n please. Wake up. Mom!” Grace came round the corner, watching her son frantically shake an unconscious body.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Grace’s calming voice did nothing to sooth the panicking boy, she looked at the girls flame licked skin. “Take her to the medical room, Five.” Without another word Five had flashed upstairs, Grace beginning jogging up the stairs wrapping her medical apron around her as she did.

You gasp awake, proceeding to cough up whatever smoke settled in your lungs. You didn’t recognise the room around you, it didn’t look like any normal hospital, or even a hospital at all. Panicking at the foreign surroundings you drag yourself out of the bed, body screaming out at the heat in your arms and palms from the fire, the fire, your shop. Before even having time to comprehend the series of unfortunate events that led you up to this point, a woman walked in, sending heaving 1950/60′s vibe.

“Hello dear, I’m Grace.” Grace had a soft voice but it didn’t sound quite right, it sounded almost robotic, not human.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.” You pushed past her and hope to find a way out of the large eerie house you were in. Panic mode overtook your whole body as you tried to find any way out, footsteps echoing behind you as Grace tried to catch up with you but you saw the front door and ran for it.

“My dear, you can’t go yet!” But you had already ran out the door, it being left wide open behind you, sprinting down the street probably looking like a madman but in that moment it didn’t matter to you, you had to get out.

#The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #number 5 #number five #five hargreeves x reader #number 5 x reader #number five x reader #number five imagine #number five oneshot #number 5 imagine #five hargreeves imagine #this is so old and unfinished but al post it anyways

306 notes · View notes

marvel-and-mischief · 3 years

Text

His Saving Grace Part V

Title: His Saving Grace - Maxwell Lord x F!Reader Words: 4400 Warnings: verbal abuse, alcohol, drunken behaviour, angst, swearing Synopsis: Maxwell takes you to a business gala, explains what happened on that unusual day, and meets a familiar face. But not everything goes according to plan.

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

A month passes in a flurry of meetings and spontaneous lunches with Maxwell, and being the odd one out whilst he spent his half a day a week with Alistair (Mrs Lord had decided that she trusted you enough to leave her son under your care). Though, by the third week Alistair had began to warm up to you, asking you questions and thrusting toys into your arms, urging you to join in the fun on the living room floor with him and his father.

Most of Maxwell’s conversations with you were about Alistair, or how well his new investments were doing. You didn’t elect to bring up what had happened in the restaurant a month ago, where he had you blabbering like an idiot with a silly schoolgirl crush, and he didn’t bring it up. You thought he might’ve, that it was maybe an indication that something was brewing between the two of you, but perhaps you were mistaken.

Though you noticed his hand would linger on the small of your back long after he had ushered you through a door, and he’d taken to kissing you on the cheek, a whispered ‘thank you’ on a Saturday afternoon when Mrs Lord had picked up Alistair and your work there was done.

But it was always respectful, professional.

One Monday you arrived at Maxwell’s apartment for lunch. Though you didn’t meet everyday, Maxwell was sure to telephone you most days and the night before he had been eager to have lunch with you to discuss something important. You begged him to tell you over the phone but he insisted he wanted to tell you in person. The excitement in his voice had you grinning and accepting his invitation easily.

He pulled you over to the island in the middle of the kitchen when you arrived and you saw it was lined with buttered toast and various jams, a cafetière filled with fresh coffee, plain croissants and a bowl of fruit.

“What are you up to?” You asked, teasing him and roaming you eyes over the delicious food as you took a seat.

“Must I be up to something to treat my favourite lawyer?” Maxwell looked genuinely affronted at your accusations before the mask slipped and a cheeky smile appeared on his lips. He fetched a bottle of milk from the fridge and a small saucer with sugar cubes on and placed them down next to your mug before taking his seat opposite you.

“Either that or you’re about to fire me,” you winked as you took a bite of your toast.

“Absolutely not! It would be like shooting myself in the foot.”

It wasn’t the most obvious of compliments but it still had you finding your slice of toast much more interesting than it was, unable to meet Maxwell’s eyes.

“I’ve been feeling very positive lately. With seeing Alistair every week and my investments working out. I think we should do something.”

“To celebrate?” You asked inquisitively, ignoring the part where he said ‘we’.

“Sort of,” Maxwell left his place at the island and picked up a pamphlet off a side table in the living room, “I saw this when I was out getting groceries. I would like to take you.”

Maxwell handed you the pamphlet. You curiously scanned the fancy writing, the black and gold color scheme, the illustration of a woman in a beautiful gown. It was a gathering of local business owners raising money for charity, or more accurately an excuse to dress up and have a party.

“There will be opportunities to schmooze and swap business cards but most importantly there will be dancing and copious amounts of champagne,” Maxwell seemed delighted at the idea, a hopeful look in his eyes as he watched for your reaction.

You licked the crumbs off your finger and thumb and started to nod.

“It’ll be fun,” you wanted to match Maxwell’s excitement but you had never been to anything like this, it was a whole other world to the one you were used to. But to Maxwell, this was a taste of his old life again, the glitz and the glamor of throwing money around until it sticks.

“It will be fun. You get to dress up and show everybody in the business world that you are the one to go to if they need help.”

You couldn’t help smiling bashfully. And yeah, maybe it would be nice to relax for once, let your hair down for a night, even show off a little. You were good at your job and everyone should know it.

But there was one thing nagging in the back of your mind. Maxwell had said he didn’t want this lifestyle anymore, was he really ready to go back into the limelight?

“Maxwell,” you put down the pamphlet in favor of reaching across the island and holding his hand, “are you ready for this?”

His smile dropped a fraction, a wistful look crossing his features as he gave your hand a squeeze. After a moment’s pause he spoke seriously.

“I cannot hide for the rest of my life. I must face the music one day, and what better way to do that than with a celebration?”

“But a gala for businessmen and women? You’re sure to bump into somebody you knew.”

“Perhaps. But these people won’t want to make a fuss. They’re all about appearances.”

“You’re sure?”

Maxwell chuckled, dismissing your apprehension.

“Everything will be fine.”

You hoped he was right.

Four days later you were sat in the back of a car Maxwell had hired for the two of you, bouncing your leg with nerves and staring up at Maxwell’s living room window as you awaited your date for the night to leave his apartment and join you.

You had brought your dress second hand, not sure if it was appropriate for the event or even if it was meant to match Maxwell’s outfit. You had no idea what was ‘etiquette’ at these galas, having never been to one.

You’d found a long dark green dress with thin straps over the shoulder and gold embroidered wildflowers in random patterns all over. You’d also come across an old black clutch at the back of your wardrobe from your clubbing days to go with it. You felt beautiful getting dressed up for the first time in years, even better that it was with Maxwell.

Speaking of which, when he came through the doors of the building you audibly gasped at how handsome he looked. His sleek, black three piece suit fit perfectly to his shape, whereas his everyday suits often looked boxy this one didn’t have the over the top shoulder pads and he looked better for it, more approachable in appearance. His shirt was white and had a crimped style and instead of a normal tie he wore a mint green bowtie, a fun addition that put a smile on your face.

Maxwell slipped into the car next to you, taking you in with a slow sweep of your outfit and an audible release of breath that had you second guessing your choices.

“You’re a sight to behold,” Maxwell admired you one last time before pointing to his bowtie and your dress, “and we almost match.”

You laughed, nerves dissipating as you allowed Maxwell’s compliment to seep in. Maxwell told the driver to drive on, unbuttoned his jacket and relaxed into his seat. He didn’t seem anxious to be going to a gala full of people. You were a little uneasy at the prospect of meeting people he might know, you had no idea how they would react to seeing him again but you were determined to have Maxwell’s back at every corner if you were met with conflict.

When you rolled up outside the museum you had to wait for arrivals in the car in front of your own to exit before you could. You watched as the flashing lights of the photographers were blinding the people walking passed them, and it took you back to when those cameras were shoved in your face during the worst time of your life. Would these photos be publicised? What would people think about you turning up to a charity event with a disgraced ex-oil tycoon?

Maxwell shuffled to the middle seat to grasp your hand in his, calling your name to take your attention away from what was happening outside.

“Are you alright?” The concern in his voice was genuine and the hand holding yours brought you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“I’ll be better once we’re passed them,” you pointed to the photographers but kept your eyes on Maxwell. He hummed and leaned over the front seat to whisper in the driver’s ear. Before you could question him, the car was driving away.

“Where are we going?” You asked in confusion.

“We’re going to enter round the back instead. I have some ties to this place so it should be fine,” Maxwell gave you a reassuring smile that had you instinctively leaning against his shoulder. It was comforting having Maxwell so close, you could smell his expensive cologne that reminded you of old books in a library and a little bit woodsy. Oh what you would give to be in his presence all the time.

The Smithsonian was a thing of wonder, even entering through a discreet back door away from the sparkle of the main event. After charming a security guard he seemed to know, Maxwell guided you with a hand in yours through narrow nineteenth century corridors, moving closer to the loud music at the front of the building. You passed dark locked offices and hurried through rooms with posters of animals and glass cabinets filled with artefacts far beyond your understanding.

“How do you know your way around here?” You asked as you took in your surroundings.

“I’ve been here before,” Maxwell’s reply was short, bordering on stern as he dragged you through the maze of corridors.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“No no,” Maxwell slowed down enough to bring you in step beside him, deliberately loosening his grip on your hand as he realised he had been clinging harshly and pulling you around the museum behind him. It wasn’t until you reached the gems and minerals department that you felt Maxwell stiffen up beside you.

“This is where it all began,” he confessed, pointing around the room in a generalised manner. You understood what he meant, but not knowing exactly what had gone down that day, you were confused as to how it linked in with a natural history museum.

“What happened?” You ventured, hesitant to push too hard on the subject.

“There was a stone I’d been researching for months and I traced it back to here,” Maxwell glanced over his shoulder to a door that led into an office.

“What sort of stone?”

“A Dreamstone,” Maxwell breathed, his fingers flexing around yours, “it granted wishes,” at your sceptical look he huffed out a laugh, “I know, it’s madness but I swear it’s true.”

He wasn’t playing a practical joke on you, that much you could tell, but how could a stone make your wishes come true? You decided for the most part Maxwell was sound of mind so it must be true, somehow.

“So, you took it? And made a wish?”

“I did. I wished to become the stone, that way I could grant people’s wishes and take a wish in return. I had limitless wishes, and I used every single one of them for my own benefit, to get more rich, more powerful, more evil,” Maxwell whispered the last word as he began to walk away from the department towards another corridor.

“You were already one of the most famous men in America, why did you need more?”

Maxwell let out a sarcastic laugh that made you jump. Thinking he’d scared you Maxwell tried to pull his hand from yours but you held tight, preventing him from doing so.

“I told myself it was for Alistair, to give him the world if he asked for it. I’m sure you and all your goodness would say I was misguided but the truth is, I wanted it. I said to myself, why shouldn’t I have everything I’ve ever wanted? Damn the consequences.”

You shook your head, disagreeing with the harshness in Maxwell’s voice and words. He wasn’t a bad man, you knew Maxwell was good at heart. The man he was describing wasn’t the man in front of you today. The man who had you entering the back of a gala because he saw how uncomfortable you were with the cameras at the front.

“I don’t believe you,” you stated adamantly.

“No, it is all true,” Maxwell argued but you shushed him as the music and the chatter of guests was getting louder. You came to an oak door and you knew the gala was on the other side. Before you opened it you paused and turned to face Maxwell.

“I believe your story but I don’t believe for a second that you wanted to be some king of the world. Otherwise why did you stop before you went too far?”

Maxwell opened his mouth to retort but closed it again, looking like a gaping fish out of water. He couldn’t come up with an answer that suited his self-deprecating view of himself. He saw Alistair in his mind’s eye, the answer to your question, but it would only further prove your point.

“We should go out there and enjoy ourselves, what do you think?” You asked, reaching forward to straighten up Maxwell’s bowtie. When you finished, you saw Maxwell looking at you with a sappy smile and a look you couldn’t put your finger on. Before you could ask, he offered you his arm and you took it, pushing open the oak door together.

You squinted into the dim, atmospheric lighting of the large room and paused for a moment to get acquainted to the loud music from the speakers on either side of you. The space was massive and could easily accommodate a couple of hundred people. There were cabinets of artefacts along the perimeter, skeletal displays hanging down from the roof, waiters walking around with trays of champagne. It was a world far from your own but you didn’t feel uncomfortable with Maxwell by your side.

You turned to Maxwell who nodded in the direction of the bar off to the side and up some steps. You let him guide you as you surveyed the dance floor, noting the guests were in deep conversations instead of dancing. You realised that this was the time to be talking to other business owners and swapping cards.

You opened your clutch and picked out the dozen or so business cards you’d had made and showed them to Maxwell as soon as you reached the bar.

“Ah, you listened to me!” Maxwell exclaimed with a delighted grin, waving down a bartender, “what do you want?”

“A cocktail?” You weren’t sure what you could order in a museum but Maxwell understood and ordered you something you’d never heard of before.

“You’ll like it, it’s sweet,” he assured you and took one of your business cards to look over.

“Is it okay?” You asked, a tightness in your chest as you awaited his opinion. You didn’t want to look stupid in the face of the rich and powerful.

“It’s nice, sophisticated and sleek, is that what you’re going for?”

You watched his finger trace the curvy triangle running from the top left corner of the card to the bottom right, a shiny pink against the matte black background. You nodded, certain it was exactly what you were going for. You had been a smart, capable and hard working lawyer and you wanted to bring that to your new role as a Career and Business Adviser.

“I want to be taken seriously,” you took back the card and shuffled them into a neat pile on the bar top just as your drink was placed in front of you.

“And you will be, you can do this,” Maxwell winked and it sent a warmth throughout your body.

When you were finished with your drink Maxwell directed you away from the bar and into the crowd. The nerves in every part of your body were on fire as you spoke to your first stranger, an older woman who owned a store in the middle of D.C. She spoke of the rising costs of renting her store and the trouble she was having attracting new customers.

You gave her advice that had her asking for your business card before you could even offer her one.

Maxwell’s hand was a comforting presence on your back as he urged you towards different people he thought would be potential clients. Some people recognised him with a look of shock, some gave him a wide berth but most people nodded politely or didn’t give him the time of day. You were too busy concentrating on your job for the night to notice, but Maxwell was grateful that everything seemed to going smoothly for you.

You were about to ask Maxwell if he wanted another drink when you spotted a tall, slender woman with long, wavy brunette hair on a mission to push through the crowd and reach Maxwell by any means necessary. You caught his eye, raising a questioning eyebrow but all he did was let out a long breath and face the woman who had a look of curiosity on her face. Her striking features, sharp jawline and pursed lips, set you on edge. You didn’t know whether she was going to slap Maxwell or have a very strongly worded conversation with him.

“Maxwell Lord,” she said, surprise in her tone and an accent you couldn’t place, but up close you thought she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. When she finally took notice of you she flashed you a friendly smile that made you weak at the knees. Who was this woman?

“Diana,” Maxwell greeted her nervously, urging you to his side and speaking your name to Diana who welcomed you with a genuine smile.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I could ask you the same. I thought you never attended these events.” So Maxwell was hoping to avoid this Diana, you realised. There was a tension between them that you couldn’t figure out. Were they lovers once? Enemies? It was a weird atmosphere that left you confused and feeling like a third wheel.

“I’ve been pushing myself out of my comfort zone recently,” Diana said with an air of mystery. You looked between the two of them, a frown etched onto your face.

Maxwell glanced at you and realised how this must seem and quickly went about to explain the situation.

“Diana helped me to see the error of my ways,” Maxwell spoke slowly, hoping to give you the hint of what he was referring to. You realised he was talking about the day he made his wishes, and this woman was the one who helped prevent him from falling deeper into the dark.

“Oh,” you gasped, nodding in understanding as Diana smiled shyly at the two of you.

“I simply reminded him of his humanity,” Diana seemed to relax once she caught onto the fact you knew exactly what they were talking about. She eyed you with interest, no doubt wondering how you and Maxwell came to be friends in the couple of months since the incident. You didn’t feel threatened under her gaze, instead it made you stand a little taller. You were proud at how far Maxwell had come since that day, he was almost unrecognisable from the mad oil tycoon everyone saw on their televisions and you hoped Diana could see that.

You didn’t notice how Maxwell was staring at you, a warmth settling on his chest as he admired your bravery. You could have shied away from this event, refused to attend with him and he wouldn’t have blamed you in the slightest. You were strong in the way Maxwell would never be. You didn’t need help to stand back up on your feet after everything you’ve been through, you were unafraid to walk the world with a target on your back from being seen with him. He thinks you would still stand proud, head held high even if you knew Diana’s true character.

Diana saw the look Maxwell was giving you and took it as her cue to leave. She didn’t need to keep an eye on this Maxwell Lord, not when you were there to keep him on the straight and narrow path of goodness and truth. Five minutes was all it took for Diana of Themyscira to see you were his saving grace.

“I will leave you both to it,” Diana nodded to Maxwell and turned to leave but came to a stop just as quickly. You looked to see what she was doing and saw her wide eyes turn on Maxwell.

You weren’t sure what was going on but you knew it wasn’t good when Maxwell grabbed your hand and pulled you into his side roughly. You would have grumbled your objection but you saw the fear on his face as he frantically looked around the room.

“What is it? What’s wrong Maxwell?” You urged him to answer you, but he didn’t need to because out of the corner of your eye you saw a man tripping towards you from the bar, clothes askew and holding an empty glass.

“You should be behind bars!” He pointed rudely at Maxwell who silently guided you to be completely shielded behind him.

“Sir, I think you’ve had a few too many-“

“You ruined my life!” The man exclaimed. He was close enough that he would have shoved his meaty finger into Maxwell’s chest but quick as lightning Diana forced her body between the two men and had the stranger’s finger held tight in her fist.

“You don't want to do that,” Diana spoke quietly, but there was a threatening undertone to her words that shocked you. You moved to lean into Maxwell’s ear whilst Diana tried to talk the man down.

“Let’s leave,” you said softly, seeing the sadness in Maxwell’s eyes now you were closer to him. You attempted to smile, to let him know without words that you weren’t disappointed with how the night had gone. You probably would have left soon anyway, the rude man just accelerated things.

Maxwell held your hand once again, it was becoming an ordinary occurrence between you two, and started to guide you through the crowd.

“Oi!” You heard the drunk man shout behind you but you hoped Maxwell would ignore him. “Your wishes destroyed my life, you bastard!”

Maxwell kept walking and you kept following. The crowds parted for the two of you but they only offered you pitying looks. It made your blood boil. They saw what had happened and instead of being angry at the drunk idiot causing a scene they were sad that you were caught up in it. Caught up with Maxwell.

You didn’t want pity and you certainly didn’t want their judgements. You would be glad to never see any of them again.

When Maxwell pulled you outside it was dark, stars twinkling in the sky, the air cool and refreshing on your burning skin. Maxwell let go of you and strode over to the car he had rented for the night, knocking on the drivers side window to wake up the driver who startled awake.

You slowly walked over, observing as Maxwell raked a hand through his hair and refused to look at you until you were standing in front of him.

“I can’t…You need to…” Maxwell sighed heavily and frustratingly kicked a pebble into the middle of the car park.

“I need to what?”

“You need to go. Far away from me, because people like him will always be around the corner.”

“You could say that about me.”

“Yes, but it didn’t happen to you tonight, it happened to me,” Maxwell jabbed his finger into his own chest as he frantically shucked off his jacket and loosened his bowtie until both pieces of fabric were hanging down the front of his shirt.

You remained calm, understanding Maxwell’s words stemmed from his embarrassment at the situation and not because he actually wanted you to leave.

“You want me to leave?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Your only friend?”

“I have no friends.”

“You do, you have me.”

Maxwell paused to take in your calm features, reminding himself of what he saw earlier tonight. Your strength, your inability to back down when the going gets tough. He couldn’t push you away if he really tried, he didn’t want to, and you knew that.

He walked around to the back door of the car and opened it.

“Get in before you catch a cold,” Maxwell ordered half-heartedly and was relieved when you complied, scooting over the seats to leave space for him to join you.

When the driver began to drive away you shuffled into the middle seat and laid your head on Maxwell’s shoulder, relaxing once he rested his head atop yours.

Moments later you heard Maxwell sniffle and you carefully looked up to see tears filling his eyes and threatening to spill.

“Oh Maxwell,” you whispered, sitting up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing his head into the crook of your neck.

“I have ruined everything.”

“No, you’re wrong. It will get better,” you ran a hand slowly through Maxwell’s hair as you reassured him, “you were very brave tonight, to go to a gala full of people who knew who you were.”

Maxwell hugged you around the waist, holding you tightly against him, the rise and fall of your chest against his, your fingers on his scalp and the smooth motion of the travelling car calming him down.

“I’m scared for Alistair,” Maxwell croaked out against your neck.

“What do you mean?”

“My disgrace will follow him around. He’ll always be the son of Maxwell Lord.”

Your heart broke for your friend, but what could you say? You couldn’t predict the future, you just had to stick around to show him he was wrong.

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @galactic-rhi @phoenixhalliwell @thewayofthemandalorian @computeringturtle @shikin83 @lesbianlena

#His Saving Grace #Maxwell Lord #Maxwell Lord x Reader #WW1984 #Wonder Woman 1984 #Pedro Pascal #Maxwell Lord fic

61 notes · View notes

voidcat · 4 years

Text

– [untitled]

Characters: Oikawa Tooru/Reader

requested by @tpwkatsumu , prompt 14

wc & genre: 1k – slice of life & emotional hurt/comfort

a/n: it wasn’t mean to be that long or personal...... also thank u Nic for helping me figure out which genre this fits into dsffgf <33

Sometimes, realization hits at times so random, you keep doing whatever it is you are doing. The change can be so drastically big yet it comes as one returns home after so long, there’s no point in making a fuss.

It happens like that too and all you can do is keep munching on tha slice of pizza as a random sitcom plays on the screen.

That’s how he enters too, invites himself into your life with a carefree attitude so natural, it feels the two of you have been like this for eternity.

An instant click, a part of you thinks, it’s wonderful how despite the few shared interests you have, you two can get along so well.

Oikawa reminds you what makes conversing with someone for hours so fun, he can infodump about volleyball all he wants and you won’t find yourself yawning once. He keeps looking around for you when you’re not around and you never grow tired with him by your side.

Then comes few moments that fele unreal, you’re at a loss of what to do and how to feel. Little secrets of intimacy, whisper secrets and old confessions, things that have eaten him inside for years and stuff that has rotten inside your soul.

What a funny coincidence, you hear someone talk about the old myths concerning humans and soulmates later that week, “According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.” rises a quote from Plato’s Symposium and you decide that’s what the two of you are. Two competible souls there for one another. Soulmates do not necessarily share romantic interests after all.

But then comes bad things as swiftly as the good ones.

Settling with what you already have, being content, leads to passiveness; you remember a bit too late.

And so you find yourself one night on the balcony sipping wine as your best friend celebrates his engagement party, talking and laughing, having the time of his life.

Yet it doesn’t sting as you expected it to be. Maybe because you knew you had a place in his heart no matter what.

After all it was an usual night when you realized you loved Oikawa Tooru. The anticipating building of sings and events led to it one night. All you could do was to let out a small “Oh.” and return to your oatmeal right after. It was natural, it was easy, it was how the two of you have been since forever.

So when Oikawa finds you by yourself that night, you’re not even surprised. He would notice sooner or later than something was off, you could hide for only so long.

“Ive been looking all over for you!” He says in the singsong voice of his you grew too familiar with. A smile takes over your face before you can notice but it must be one of those he sees rarely; because his eyes change and lips are pulled to a firm line. You want to swipe it off, worry shouldn’t take over his aura when the night should be a happy one.

“You wouldn’t get it, Tooru.”

“When have I not understood you, helped you? Tell me.” And he is right, he always did and even though he couldn’t possibly relate, he would understand.

“Things been coming at me, a lot, again. Not in a kind way this time. I’ve found happiness in some things lately and was content but it’s this stillness that will bring me my end. I settle with what I have, I don’t push like you do, take a step into the darkness, I don’t want to take risks too ahead of me and lose what I have. But this stillness of me, like grass or sedge, it grows too inanimate and people think suddenly dies away the light in me. And now I have these problems in general, a madness at my ineptness, trouble at work and my turtle...”

The moon shines upon the house, in a celebratory light, however the only ones to enjoy its delight are in the dark.

“Why... why didn’t you tell me?” He sounds hurt, probably feels betrayed that you kept all this from him, despite the worries and the pain, your face is dry. Still, Oikawa cups your cheek gently, more a motion to meet your eyes, to show he cares and he’s here.

“Because you were happy.” is all you can say.

A gulp.

“Because you looked so happy, and it was your happiness that was enough for me. I love you, I think I’ve loved you for a while now. I never said anything because I knew, you loved me in a way, I didn’t want to pursue anything romantic because it was your friendship and care that was enough for me too.”

“I’ve learnt with you the many other ways to love and be loved. Confessing anything could make things complicated so I settled with all your love I could get. Because you never missed movie nights, always tagged along to newly opened cafes by my side. You were there when I was in grief and you were there when a partner of yours would accuse us for having an affair.”

“I think it’s time I move on too. To out the things I’ve learnt from you to use. But I don’t know what to do- I don’t-”

Rest of the words die out on the physical but he hears them all loud and clear, embroidered into the night.

And still, despite all that you’ve said it feels as it always was. A thought you knew of all along, gaining a name only now.

“Just- Please be my best friend right now, not the guy I just confessed my love to.” you find yourself say, voice unfamiliar and too far away.

“Then- Hear me out.” He says and holds your hands. “Tonight, let’s take one last night off and celebrate the newcomings of our lives. And tomorrow, we will take that first step, together.”

It seems easy, just like letting him into your life was. He takes another step towards you and puts his hand on your heart. “Because no matter what, I’ll always be by your side, right here, as long as our hearts beat and we breathe in and out.”

166 notes · View notes

if-you-built-yourself-a-myth · 3 years

Text

Check Ignition: Part II

The Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst.

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

Requests are open if you have any ideas of what I should write next!

Moyo thought the situation was hilarious. “Dude,” he said, between fits of uncontrollable laughter. “You’re never going to get any pussy ever again. Oh my gosh.” He doubled over in front of the fireplace, clutching his stomach as if it would burst. As a Gryffindor, he shouldn’t be in the Hufflepuff common room at all, and neither should Zoë (a Ravenclaw). Zoë got permission because her boyfriend, Senne, was Head Boy. Moyo slipped under the radar because he never wore his tie around campus.

Aaron too had his concerns for Robbe’s love life. “Does it count as cheating? Amber said that Noor—”

“He just kissed you?” Zoë sat forward on the couch. “Just like that? No asking, or—”

Moyo cut back in. “You will never feel the sweet, sweet touch of a woman. The virgin Robbe.”

“Boys, boys,” said Jens, ever the peacemaker, ever Robbe’s protector. “Uh, and girl. We are solving the crisis, not bringing up new ones.” He gestured to Robbe. “You have the floor, my friend. What do you need from us?”

“I, uh—” Robbe began.

It had been Jens’s idea to tell Moyo and Aaron in the morning. Zoë just happened to be waiting around for Senne to come out of the dormitories at the same time. The Hufflepuff common room featured two tables on either side of the fireplace, each surrounded by four straight-backed chairs. One couch faced the fireplace, and right now, Aaron, Jens, and Zoë had claimed it for themselves. With all the prime real estate taken, none of the other students stuck around.

Plus, it was early, before breakfast and morning classes.

“Go ahead,” said Jens.

Robbe didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what Sander expected to get from the arrangement, either. What he knew:

1. Sander kissed him to get Britt off his back.

2. Sander referred to him as a boyfriend rather than a hookup.

3. Sander knew he wanted to get Noor to leave him alone.

What he didn’t know:

1. Did Sander want them to fake date?

2. Was it just a one-time thing?

He wasn’t a big fan of not knowing all the specifics. It was hard enough to trample down the feeling blossoming in his chest when he thought of kissing Sander again.

“I—I need—” What did he need? He needed to talk to Sander. They didn’t share any classes, nor were there any Hogsmede visits coming up in the near future. Robbe sure as hell wasn’t going to patrol down near the dungeons, even if Jana came with him, because they smelled like mildew and he didn’t want to run into anyone besides Sander. He decided on a placeholder for now. “I need you to go along with it. If Noor asks.”

“Go along with it?” Moyo repeated.

“Yeah, go along with it. Corroborate the story.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Moyo crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not lying to a girl. Especially not a pretty one.”

Aaron nodded along. “That’s messed up.”

“You’re not going to earn any points by not,” said Jens. Thank goodness for Jens.

“It is a bit cruel, isn’t it?” said Zoë. “Tell her you’re not interested if you’re not interested. It’s an asshole move to drag someone else into it.”

They dissolved into cacophony, talking over one another without regard for volume. It reminded Robbe of last night’s music. He’d meant to ask the boys if anyone had heard anything from the astronomy tower last night (had Sander made a bubble at all?), but he hadn’t gotten the chance when Jens opened with “Sander told everyone he and Robbe are dating so Britt and Noor will leave them alone.”

“And she’s going to find out,” said Moyo. “Girls know everything. Imagine how that’ll feel—Robbe hates you so much he’d rather be gay than snog you. It’s not fair.”

Zoë pointed at Moyo to emphasize his point. “I’m surprised to hear such a rational take from you.”

“I don’t hate her!” Robbe felt the need to step in and defend his honor. “I already told her I’m not interested. She keeps circling back around, and I’m tired.” In truth, he hadn’t said anything explicit. She should understand his apathy by the way he never took her coat or offered to walk her back to her common room. Perhaps that made him a bad person. “Look, this won’t be forever. We’ll give it a week and we’ll break up and everything will go back to normal.”

Moyo laughed without humor. “Yeah, minus any chance of ever having sex with a girl ever again.”

“You had to ruin it,” said Zoë. “Bad take.”

“Okay, but after the whole thing last night, Noor’s gonna be depressed no matter what,” Jens said. “You tell her that last night was for Sander, and she’s going to be all over you again. You tell her it was so both of you could avoid both of them, and now she’s just as upset as she would be with the fake-dating. It makes more sense to go along, fake a breakup, and let the whole thing fizzle. No one gets hurt.”

The others considered this analysis. Robbe took to pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. He really didn’t want Noor to get hurt in all of this—did he?—but the allure of having her leave him alone was too great to pass up. And she’d be hurt if he told her flat-out, so wouldn’t this roundabout way be better? Yes, Jens was right. Aaron, Zoë, Moyo, and Jens gathered together in a makeshift huddle to deliberate the issue like committee.

Robbe pretended not to hear their animated whispers. He caught bits and pieces.

“Noor is kind of annoying—”

“What’s done is done, isn’t it?”

“—something an asshole would do. Remember when Jana—”

“I would never—”

The giant clock on the wall above the exit read seven. Breakfast would be ready in the Great Hall any minute now, and they’d need to hurry if they wanted to eat in time for History of Magic. Any later than seven-fifteen and Noor would be downstairs, too.

“It’s agreed, then,” announced Jens. He stood up and adjusted his tie. “We play along. Robbe and Sander five-ever. C’mon, boys, class.”

Moyo and Aaron grumbled to themselves, but they followed Jens to the portrait on the wall and slipped through with Robbe at their heels.

***

The walk to the Potions classroom felt longer than ever before. It was the first class of the day that Robbe didn’t share with one of his friends, because Moyo and Aaron were shit at following instructions and Jens had never created anything that worked. They barely mustered satisfactory grades last year. Robbe was a rule-follower. That’s why he was a prefect, and that’s why he could make a damn good Wolfsbane potion.

“Hello, darling!”

Someone slammed into him from the side, almost knocking his textbook from his hands. Robbe looked up and right at Sander’s perfect face. Sander’s eyes were alight, even in the dim aesthetic of the dungeon hallway. He held an embroidered canvas schoolbag over one shoulder and a wand in his left hand. It was all Robbe could do to not collapse when he slipped his right hand into Robbe’s and squeezed—until Robbe spotted Britt standing at the door to the potions classroom. Her eyes locked on them.

That answered some questions, anyway. Sander wanted whatever this was to continue.

“Where are you headed?” Sander asked. “I’ve got Transfiguration in a half hour, so I’m free to take you wherever. He said the words a lot louder than he needed to.

Robbe shared Potions with Britt. He’d totally forgotten. And he couldn’t possibly go see her, could he? So really, there was only one thing he could say. “Free period. I’m wandering.”

“Lead the way, oh wanderer.”

They walked side-by-side down the corridor, passing in front of the haunted girls’ bathroom and a wall stained by something that looked an awful lot like blood. Sander’s long strides made it difficult for Robbe to keep up; it took two of his steps to match one of Sander’s. He noticed something he hadn’t before—he didn’t make a habit of watching Sander walk when they went out with Britt. Sander kept his chin angled toward the ceiling and seemed to base his gait on the people around him. Faster than everyone else. Even if it took more effort than casual.

“Is this a thing now?” Robbe whispered. He tried to hide the fact that he might be wheezing. “If it shows Noor I’m not changing my mind, I’m still all the way…”

“I’d assumed it would be. Are there going to be rules?”

“Rule number one: you sit detention for the music. I still reported you.”

Sander stopped abruptly; his eyes caught on something down the hallway. “Duck into this bathroom with me,” he said. “Lingering kiss, then bathroom. Cool?”

“Uh, cool,” said Robbe.

The words had barely left his mouth before Sander’s lips were on his, something sweet, soft, and sloppy. Not as good as last night’s. Robbe decided he hadn’t really enjoyed that one, either. It was nerves that made it seem that way. He pulled away first.

It was kind of good, though. Ugh, kind of.

They turned, and Sander dragged Robbe into the bathroom by his wrist. He played the part of lovestruck teenager very well, from the mischievous glint in his eyes to the exaggerated gesture of the dragging. Once inside, he backed Robbe against a sink like they were going to kiss again, hard enough to make a loud clank. Then he withdrew, peeked out the door.

“Saw Noor,” he said, by way of explanation.

“Huh,” said Robbe.

“Is that the kind of stuff you want?”

“Don’t you have Transfiguration?”

Sander dismissed him. “I can cut. More important matters at hand.” He spun around to lean against the sink next to Robbe, who hadn’t moved since he was pushed. The sinks were arranged in a circular formation in the center of the bathroom, accessible from the stalls on either side. A large stained-glass picture of a massive snake glared down at them from the far wall. “What do you want this to entail?”

The porcelain dug into Robbe’s back at an unpleasant angle. He tried to remedy the feeling with a little fidgeting around. “What do you want it to entail?”

“You came to me. Clearly you have ideas. Britt will hate whatever.”

Robbe took a deep breath. “I just want Noor to think I’m in a relationship. So, like, you can do what you think—I mean, what will make her think—”

“Got it, got it.”

The bathroom was suddenly smaller than it felt a second ago. Silence made it even worse. Robbe stared at the floor so that he wouldn’t stare at Sander; he didn’t want to give off the impression that he was enjoying Sander’s company too much. He found himself thinking the same thing he’d been thinking since Sander kissed him yesterday: if only the boys knew, if only the boys knew, if only the boys knew… Which was a fruitless pursuit.

This was an arrangement and the relationship was fake. He wasn’t actually enjoying it.

No need to tell Jens or Moyo or Aaron anything more.

“Okay,” said Sander. “Give it five more minutes here like we’re making out. Then we head to the astronomy tower and we discuss the finer details. Sound like a plan?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.

Sander raised his wand and pointed it at a roll of toilet paper that sat on one of the toilets. The roll transformed into a compact CD player, floated over to their place at the sink, and began to play the same song as the player last night. “Not going to sit here in silence,” he said. The implication was that they wouldn’t talk to each other, Robbe thought. He dug his fingernails into the edges of the sink and counted down from three hundred so that he didn’t notice the veins in Sander’s hands.

They carried the player with them when they left the bathroom, only this time, Robbe could tell that Sander had actually performed some kind of bubble charm on the audio. No one so much as glanced in their direction as they wove their way through the packed hallways. They climbed the stairs to the astronomy tower, keeping to the right, and Robbe was surprised to watch Sander hop up into the little windowsill that Robbe fancied he owned.

“Alright, actual conversation.” Sander folded his legs and sat across from Robbe. “I should know things about you if I’m going to be convincing. And vice versa.”

“I’m a Hufflepuff,” said Robbe. That seemed like enough.

Not for Sander. “Real things. You know, mother’s maiden name, first grade teacher, the name of your first pet…”

Hang on, those questions sounded familiar. “Are you trying to steal my bank account?”

“Ah, so you have one?”

“A muggle one, yes. Not at Gringotts.”

Sander nodded, satisfied. “Me too. I mean, I have one at Gringotts, but it’s got like twenty Galleons in it. Maybe.” He pointed to the compact player. “Muggleborn.”

Robbe was a little startled at this information—Slytherin house favored purebloods, even when not in the midst of a war based on magical purity. Something about the founder and this whole thing with a basilisk.

“You too?” Sander prompted.

“I—uh, no,” Robbe said. “My dad is a wizard, just my mom isn’t, and I live with her during the summer.”

“Hm. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

“I don’t know. I study a lot. And I hang out with my friends, I guess.”

“Who are your friends?”

“Jens, Moyo, Aaron, and the girls. Are you going down a checklist or something?”

Sander laughed self-consciously. It was such a nice sound, holy shit, Robbe could listen to it all day. Sander adjusted his tie and shirt collar. “Forgive me for wanting to know more about you.” Robbe felt something swell in his chest and die when Sander continued, “What if Britt asks for info and I can’t give details? She’ll know something’s up for sure.”

“Yeah, of course,” Robbe ceded. Of course it was about the arrangement, that’s why they were there. Focus, Robbe. “The girls are Jana, Zoë, Amber, Yasmina, and Luca, if you want to write that down. We’re not really close, though. Just me and Jana.”

“Why’s that?”

“Jens is my best friend and Jana dated him for a while.”

“Huh. Committing that to memory.” Sander put his fingertips on his forehead and hummed to the tune of the CD’s song as if he were downloading information. “Okay, it’s there. Anything else?”

Robbe scoured his brain for something interesting about himself that would be helpful for a boyfriend to know. Boyfriend. Fuck. He gave himself a moment to savor the way it sounded in his head. Boyfriend. My boyfriend. There was a crisis there, in that it was so right compared to girlfriend’s wrongness, but he wasn’t going to have that breakdown right now. Boyfriend. Sexuality debates could wait until the whole fake-dating thing was done, because Sander wasn’t an option either way. Oh, but still, boyfriend.

“My favorite food is shrimp. I’m not a fan of reading but I’m okay at studying when Yasmina’s there. I’m a prefect. Is that enough?”

Sande shook his head. “I need something not a lot of people know. Insider knowledge.”

Insider knowledge? There wasn’t much of that in Robbe’s head. He’d been pretty open with everyone, except the maybe liking boys thing, and he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself.

He didn’t like boys.

“I was the one who broke them up,” Robbe confessed. “Jens and Jana, I mean.” He didn’t know why he picked this specific piece of information out of everything in his head; it was just the most available. Maybe it would serve Sander better to know a dark secret. “I told people something I shouldn’t have, so… well, you know. On purpose. I think you should know that.”

Sander squinted at him. “Not a good secret keeper. Okay.”

Yells echoed from the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match outside, mostly profanity and the occasional creative insult. Robbe was a seeker on the Hufflepuff team, Jens a chaser, and Aaron an alternate beater. They had a game next week, and it would make a lot of sense for Sander to attend, given the circumstances of their relationship… There should be something more to say to each other right now. Sander seemed content to linger in the silence. He rested his head on the brick behind him and looked out across the Great Lake, glimmering in the sunlight.

“When does it end?” said Robbe, at the same time as Sander said, “It’s much nicer up here at night.”

Sander turned from the window. “You first.”

“Oh, no, you can—”

“You first.”

“Uh, okay.” Robbe wrung his hands and wiped them on his pantlegs. “I wanted to know when it ends. The whole fake-dating thing. Like, do we pick a time, or—”

“Oh, I know that. Given it some thought.” Sander ran a perfect hand through his perfect hair. Not perfect—wow, Robbe really had to stop thinking shit like that, about how perfect Sander was. Every time he snuck another glance, there was another little detail that made Sander that much more striking. “Britt will just jump back in the second you’re out of the picture. End of term’s only a month away. She lives too far to follow me home, so I think that’s our best bet.”

A whole month. A whole motherfucking month. Robbe didn’t know if the boys could handle the responsibility of something that lasted that long. He didn’t know if he had it in himself.

“Or until one of us finds someone better,” Sander added.

Maybe not a month.

Not much to say after that.

“My mother is sick,” Robbe tried. The hard-hitting stuff was better material, more trust-building. Yes, Sander could use it against him, but Sander didn’t strike him as that kind of person. “Sick in the head. It’s passed genetically, so if I don’t get it, my kids probably will. Is that enough?”

He took Sander’s lack of response as an affirmative.

Robbe counted to three hundred again on the windowsill before carefully getting down. Sander probably wanted to be left alone with his music, like he’d wanted last night. It would be rude to stick around, Robbe reasoned. And he didn’t have infinite free time. He needed to catch someone from his Potions class to get the notes if he was going to keep his outstanding.

“I’m off,” he announced. “You have detention at five.”

“I’m not sitting for that,” said Sander. Other students began to push their way up the stairs for their astronomy class. “I’m doing you a service.”

“Filch will see you then.”

Robbe headed to the left side of the staircase for the trip down, but Sander reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him into a smooth kiss. Like the lap of a wave on the shore. Robbe didn’t see Britt around. Noor would be her Charms class until five. He cast a passing glance at the students milling around the classroom doors, looking for someone Sander needed to convince.

“That one was for the fans,” said Sander. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“You’ll see me,” Robbe replied. He had to hide his face on the way to his next class so that Sander didn’t see the blush creeping up his cheeks.

#sobbe #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sander x robbe #wtfock #i stopped watching after wtfockdown when things got messed up #so please forgive any inconsistancies #i have created a better timeline #hogwarts au #fake dating #my writing #fic request

17 notes · View notes