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thebard490 · 1 year

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Paladins: Order Undivided Chapter 2: Into the Unknown

I am the Bard, who has seen light and darkness from whence they were still entangled, and has seen them shifting between one another.

The rest of the colony caravan finally arrived along with Yndri. They found a small hill of dead hobgoblins, some rather bloodied Paladins, and a roaring fire that Peregrin had gotten to work setting up.

”Ladies and Gentlemen of this fine colonization effort. It is my privilege to welcome you at last to the Northern Garden!” Peregrin chirped to the leaders.

”Quit clownin around an’ help me move this anvil.” Kazador grumbled good-naturedly as he hauled the anvil back into its place on the shrine.

The caravan moved into the old camp for now and they disposed of the bodies, equipping themselves with what armor and weapons they could find. Senket, Julian, Kazador met with the caravan leader, filling him in. After some serious discussion, it was agreed that the Paladins would work as scouts and outriders to investigate the forest and try to find a good place to set up.

Meanwhile, Peregrin and Yndri set out to scout the forest at the base of the hill and do a bit of hunting. There, Yndri spied and brought down an elk with her bow. Peregrin found a running stream to lay his net and line in. While he reclined and waited for a bite, he heard a sound in the brush on the opposite side of the stream.

He climbed up a tree and balanced across a limb to peer through the other side. There he spied a troupe of halflings carrying a canoe quickly and quietly through the bushes. He shouted a greeting in halfling, and was promptly answered with a hail of stones and darts which sent him stumbling off his branch into the stream with a loud splash. Yndri heard the sound and rushed to help, only to find Peregrin, and a large number of fish, tangled up in his net. She hauled the waterlogged wanderer out along with his catch.

”For such a slippery swordsman you’re remarkably clumsy little one.” She remarked with a wry grin on her face.

”I didn’t fall I was pushed! From a distance. By a lot of pebbles and darks. There’s other halflings here!” He burbled out, his unexpected bath doing nothing to blunt his joviality.

”Well that explained it. They clearly knew how much trouble you’d be if you followed them, and probably didn't have enough food for another mouth, especially one as big as yours.”

”Harrumph. Curl their hair if that’s what it was. Not sharing food is just plain selfish. I’d make it back in quality anyways.”

”Of course. Let’s get back so we’ve time to report and you can back those words up.”

The two headed back and made their report. Nobody was particularly concerned, for halflings are most always goodly folk, and with a goblinoid horde blighting the land, it stood to reason that they’d be particularly cautious.

As the day dimmed, the fire was built up and Peregrin got to work cooking. As he was roasting the elk, a stiff breeze blew ashes up towards his meat, only to switch at the last second and instead sweep up wild herbs into the fire, filling the air with a delectable aroma. Everyone enjoyed the meal, Kazador in particular thoroughly enjoyed the meat, drawing a few grins from Senket and Yndri. However, a problem arose when Julian suddenly realized to his horror that he couldn’t eat due to still having his helmet stuck on. Several minutes of yanking, pulling, and general neck wrenching ensued before Peregrin devised the idea to lube it off using grease from the meal.

One batch of screaming later, the party finally got to see what Julian looked like. It was somewhat disappointing to say the least. The nephilim’s skin was a pale sea green, with strange indigo eyes that had no pupils whatsoever. His features were very plain, and not exactly the manliest figure. He looked younger than his years, with a smooth face, slightly rounded, better suited to study rather than swordsmanship. His hair was cut short, and styled messily, a raven black mop adorning his crown.

As the feast wound down, Peregrin got out his pipe and began to smoke, hand on his belly as he digested. ”It’s only right and proper that we have a tale to aid the digestion. And as the only properly sized fellow here I suppose it falls to me to tell it. What sort would you care to hear?”

Senket piped up. “I’ve never seen that crest you wear. How did you come by it?”

He smiled. “Ah, these are the swords of Jaborah, halfling god of war. Not many know him since we’re not the sort to go conquering. Wars are nasty business, make you late for supper. But sometimes war came to us, despite the goddess’s best efforts. So it was in Jaborah’s day, when Tiamat still walked this plane.”

Faces scowled and more than a few harsh glares were thrown Kazador’s way at the mention of the Dragon Queen and mother of monsters. “The dragon queen’s avarice was so great that all the world would be her hoard, the villages of the halflings included. So, her armies came, and for a while, Jaborah beat them back, armed only with a stout staff. Until she herself came and slew the valiant warrior with her fell breath of every color. He awoke in that golden shire the goddess prepared for us, and there at once sought her out. He begged her to teach him where to find the weapons to save his people and defeat this evil. She told him, and so out he went. Down, down, down, into that darkest of places. The abyss. To the dominion of Indabatu, prince of undeath. He snuck into that mausoleum palace to where the unliving lord slept and stole his front two teeth. In his hands the rotted fangs became two swords sized for him. With these, whom he named “Dragon Biter” And “Drake Muncher”. He cut his way back into the world of the living and drove Tiamat and her legions back to the six peaks, stealing away a portion of her godly essence so that he might watch us forevermore.”

“A fell tale, and such wicked weapons. Not something I expected from the little folk.” Yndri admitted.

“I said much the same when the priests first told it to me. But there’s a lesson in it, like all proper tales. Every weapon, no matter how pretty it is or how righteous the cause it strikes for is a tool for death.” He turned his cloak, and in the fire light all could see his shortswords have hilts of bone. “For this reason, all we who follow Jaborah carry swords with bone hilts, to remind us how great and terrible a thing we carry, and to not use it lightly.” With that, the story closed, and the evening with it. Soon guards are posted, and beds gone to.

In the dead of night, Peregrin awoke to find Yndri tossing and turning in her sleep. Also, Yndri was actually sleeping, not entering trance. The very confused halfling quickly shook her awake and got a dagger at his throat for the trouble.

”Easy Yn I’m just the cook! I know the deer might’ve given you some indigestion but killing me is a gross overreaction!”

The pale haired elf relaxed as she slipped the dagger back in her boot. “Sorry little one, you startled me.”

”It’s okay. I didn’t realize elves had nightmares. I didn’t think you even slept really.”

”Most of us don’t. We enter a trance where we relive our memories, and those of lives long past.”

”Oh. So why weren’t you doing that?”

She frowned. “That’s... that’s rather personal little one.”

”I promise I won’t tell a soul. You can trust me, honest.”

”I’m sorry little one, but this isn’t for you. It’s not for anyone but me and my own goddess to puzzle out.”

Peregrin was somewhat sad and confused, but he nodded with acceptance. “Alright. I won’t tell anyone.”

Meanwhile, Yndri wasn’t the only one having bad dreams. Senket was in a forest. It was dark there, dark without moon or stars, only her diabolical vision saw. The trees were strangled, countless vines like a billion grasping arms, pulsing with life like black veins throttled them. She called for her light, the light of the sun she bore. Her morningstar flared and the dark veins slipped away from her. In the distance, she could see a similar light. She headed towards it, walking an ancient and forgotten road past a long-abandoned chapel. She came through the clearing and saw a building, wreathed in solar flames, an ancient abbey burning as a beacon, though like the last embers of an untended fire. Above the gate a lone tiefling stood, holding a mighty sword in his hands against the pulsing dark. He turned and looked directly at her, one word burnt into her mind as she awakened, the light of dawn burning her eyes.

”At last. We are returned.”

After a successful feast and some strange dreams that either came from divine intervention or severe indigestion, the paladins awoke. Senket explained her dream and suggested that they seek this abbey in the forest. Yndri voiced her support for this. Kazador was somewhat skeptical. “Ah’m nae exactly one fer chasing after strange dreams.”

Julian countered “I’m inclined to believe the dream. Ancestors and spirits talk to people on a fairly regular basis don’t they.”

“Ah’m nae saying it nae happened, but even if it is an ancestor or a spirit, it’s nae exactly a guardian angel, nae offense Sen.”

”Eh, I’m used to it. I doubt it’s an ancestor though, my family has always lived in the southwest. We’ve certainly never come this far north.”

”It’s the rest of the dream that concerns me the most.” Peregrin muttered. “Wicked vines strangling the forest? A dark without star or moon? That reminds me of a few too many stories.”

”A halfling actually scared of something? Ye gods this is new.” Julian remarked dryly.

“Not scared, but not foolhardy either, especially since I encountered my rather hostile brethren the other day. Something’s not as it seems here, but we won’t get any answers sitting around. I say we seek the abbey.”

“Agh. Well, the wee laddie has a better head on him than most. Ah’ll seek it with ye, an’ if it’s a trap o’ a trick ye’ll be needing my axes, so I cannae let ye go without me.”

Thus determined, the party gathered supplies from the camp, only to find that several people, including the original leader, had fallen ill. They debated staying, but the new leader told them that they needed scouts to possibly someone to go find other settlements more than they needed more guards. They’d hold in the tower.

With rations, water, and other supplies in hand, the paladins marched into the forest. They briefly considered taking horses, but without any known paths, they decided traveling on foot was better for the sake of silence and better suited for the brush. Yndri took the lead, with Peregrin taking up the rear. They followed their old trail back to the stream and followed the stream down, westwards through the forest, hoping that they might perhaps encounter the halflings again.

After about an hour, Yndri heard rough voices speaking in goblin and called a halt to listen. There were harsh voices, speaking in the gothic tongue of the goblins. With them came many a scream and a thing half like a growl, half like an eagle’s cry.

”Goblins ahead, an’ better yet something killing goblins.” Kazador said as he got out his axes.

Yndri wasn't sure what they were dealing with. “Give me a moment to get closer and see what’s going on. Peregrin, I’d appreciate your help.” She pulled a whistle arrow from her bag and showed it to the group. “If we’re spotted, I’ll fire this, and you engage, otherwise hold back.” The two snuck ahead, while the others followed much further behind. Eventually they were stopped, when a goblin corpse went flying past them, flung by a particularly large and angry hawkbear.

Yndri took to a nearby tree to try to see more and saw a goblin on a wolf bossing around the others, occasionally riding in and slashing at it, but mostly staying behind his dozen or so remaining troops. Peregrin snuck around, getting into position to lunge out at the leader. Unfortunately, the warg smelled him and turned, growling. Yndri drew her bow and fired the whistle arrow into the leader’s back. The sound of a high whistle and an even higher and most unmanly screech echoed into the morning.

Peregrin lunged forwards, driving back the warg with a pair of swift slashes, laying open its hide. The goblin looked at him with astonishment, then turned to see Yndri and his jaw dropped. “An elf? An elf! Scramble! Get that elf! Get that elf!”

Several of the goblins turned, which is a bad idea for a goblin within the reach of an angry hawkbear. One paid for this by having his head swept from his shoulders by a mighty paw. Highly inaccurate ranged fire rained down on Yndri’s location, arrows glancing off branches and her armor.

Hearing the signal, the paladins charged forwards, coming into visual range. Kazador picked up a fallen javelin and hurled it, punching through an unfortunate goblin’s petty excuse for armor and nailing him to a tree. Julian and Senket dashed forwards, Senket leading with her shield to send another goblin flying out of her way.

The warg turned and snapped at Peregrin, tearing a chunk of flesh from the halfling’s shoulder. It licked its lips as it savored the taste. “I assure you, raw is the worst way to have any kind of meat.” The cook joked calmly as his sword became wreathed in flames. “I personally prefer warg blackened!” The warg slunk back with a whimper as the blazing blade pierced though its black hide, producing a most horrid stench. The stench intensified after Peregrin ripped it free, sending scorched flesh and black blood erupting onto the forest floor, which seemed to almost drink it in.

The goblin commander turned to the halfling and swipes downwards, only for the darting blades of Avoree’s chosen to slap it aside. He struck again and the nimble halfling dances to the side as he overextends and slipped from his mount.

The goblin group rushed forwards to try to overwhelm the strange group that so suddenly rushed them. Axes slashed, glancing off shield and armor, but a few lucky blows carving narrow stinging rivulets in weak points. Meanwhile, the archers continued pouring poor fire into the general area where Yndri was. She dropped from her perch to behind the tree, leaning out from behind her cover to nail another goblin in the throat, dropping him with a garbled curse.

The hawkbear, still stinging from its earlier abuse, hurtled into the goblin archer line. It crushed one under its paw before its iron beak lunged forwards, caught a goblin by the head, and crushed her skull like a nut. Yndri noted the sudden drop in arrow fire due to hawkbear and decided to assist it by putting a silver arrowhead inside the last archer’s brain. “Two!”.

Kazador charged into, swiping once with his axe at the downed goblin Senket threw aside, smearing his internal organs across a nearby tree. Then he kept on, hitting the mob and burying his other axe in the back of one of their necks. “Three!”

Senket bashed one goblin to the ground with her shield and then swiped across with her morningstar, bashing the jaw out of another’s face. Meanwhile Julian cleft downwards, the superior steel, weight, and strength of his greatsword shattering through a goblin’s axe before rending its wielder from shoulder to groin. He followed through and caught the next goblin over in the side, splitting open his belly and throwing him to the ground.

The warg, sensing which way the wind was blowing, abandoned its rider and fled into the woods, catching a shortsword to the hamstring as it ran. Peregrin turned from the cowardly mongrel and leveled his blade at the fallen goblin leader. “Surrender.” Hecommanded, eyes glowing with mystic authority. The wretched creature’s hand shook for a moment, before he shook off the spell and launches himself at the halfling with a sudden fury. “I do not knee to slaves!” he roared as he carved a slash out of Peregrin’s cheek.

With the nearest batch of goblins a fine paste, the still very angry hawkbear hurtled into the tattered remnants of the mob attacking the paladins, bowling through one and then lashing out at Senket, who caught the beak on her shield.

Kazador hewed the creature with one axe and the sole surviving goblin with the other. “Four! An’ the beast is worth triple to whoever slays it!”

”Not the time.” Senket growled as she dug in her cloven feet and shoved back into the Owlbear. She knocked it back and down before applying her mace to its face. Julian lunged forwards, shifting his grip on the greatsword he swung it like a batter in a home-run contest, rending the Owlbear’s ribs asunder with a horrid cracking ripping sound.

Peregrin and the goblin boss continued their duel, he landed a blow directly above the heart, but it was deflected by the ill-fitting mail shirt. He then palmed his sword to cut hit foe just above the knee. The goblin responded with two deadly but inaccurate slashes that struck the air centimeters from the halfling’s limbs.

Yndri looked from the badly wounded owlbear to the whirl of blades between the two miniature duelists, drew back her bow, sighed, and let go. A silver arrowhead punched through the goblin boss’s armor, split his spine, and emerged through his sternum. The arrogant commander looked down in disbelief, then fell dead. “Three.”

“Nae lass, that’s worth double, four.” Kazador conceded as he struggled to overcome the hawkbear’s tough hide, landing no telling blow, though the creature labored for breath. In a last desperate struggle, it rained claw and beak upon the dragonoid, leaving bloody rents in his scales, crimson blood running on scarlet hide and dwarven mail as he took a single step back and shook his head at the monster’s tenacity.

All for naught though, as Senket lunged low and pushed upwards, muscles straining as she smashed the owlbear under the chin with enough force that it stood up on its back legs. The horned knight took the opening and smashed her Morningstar through the softer underbelly and ravaged ribs into its heart, turning it into a sort of red paste not unlike strawberry jam. The huge beast finally dropped, dead. “Alright. Next one of these we find we go around them.”

”Agreed.” Kazador grudgingly admitted as he patched his wounds with a combination of divine magic to close the rents, and a drink from his flask to dull the pain. He wiped his mouth and offered Peregrin a swig as the halfling mended the cut in his face and the gash in his arm.

”Thanks, but I don’t fancy being carried. That stuff is strong enough for someone your size, let alone a lightweight like me. Anyone else hurt?”

”Going to be sore later after throwing that beast, but I’ll be fine.” Senket said as she rolled her shield shoulder and stretched her arm.

”Just my pride. Goblins are terrible shots.” Yndri said as she placed her bow back on her back. “Four all, a draw this time beardless.” She said with a grin.

“I’ve got a beard, it’s of bone an’ scale, nae hair. More than any elven pretty laddie can say.” The dragonborn dwarf said crossly as he cleaned off his axes in the stream and sheathed them.

The party regrouped, recovering arrows and checking for loot. Kazador compulsively acquired any and all gold and silver coins, while the rest of the party claimed some gems from a bag at the leader’s side. Peregrin committed the bodies into the river and said a brief prayer before they moved on, following the blood trail of the warg. Following said blood trail led them on a somewhat winding path before it crossed back into the river at a shallow ford. From here the trail ceased. After some debate, they decided to continued following the river until dark.

As the sun dimmed, Senket started a fire. Peregrin set his lines and net. Julian dragged dead trees to form an improvised barricade around the camp. Kazador set to work on repairing and maintaining the party equipment, buffing burs and mending tears and dents with industrious hands. Yndri maintained her own bow, and once that was done, she looked up to the heavens and pulled out a sheet of parchment and quill.

Peregrin looked over curiously as Yndri began to chart their position and their path through that day, marking the river and the watchtower, slowly but steadily creating a map. She paused briefly, before marking the point where they fought the bugbear and the goblins and creating a small note of where the Warg led them.

”You’re a cartographer?” He asked curiously as he suddenly noticed one of his lines ad a bite and hurried to reel it in.

”Yes. Since we are in an uncharted land, I thought it might be wise to record where we have been.” She replied, pulling a series of small triangles and rulers from her bag to measure against the stars.

”How do you keep distances?” Julian asked as he continued his fortifications.

”She’s using the stars, I’d imagine. Those tools aren’t that different from the ones the navigators used when I came to this continent.” Senket hypothesized as she tended the flickering flames.

”That, and I’ve been counting our stepps.” She said as she continued her work. “Multiply that by the length of our stride and we should have a fairly accurate measure. We’ve traveled twenty miles today. A good start.” Yndri looked upwards, slightly below the moon to see if the moonbow was shining, not tonight it seemed. She sighed as she put away her tools and map. Peregrin has managed to draw in two large trout to add to tonight’s dinner, soon they were roasting on a pair of spits. Spirits were high as the paladins dug in, set watches and drifted off to sleep.

The night passed by quietly until Senket’s watch. As she kept a careful eye on the dark forest around them, it passed by the witching hour, when the moon had set, and the stars were all that watched the woods. In the dark distance, at the very edge of her vision, she saw once more, black vines pulsing like dark veins. Unseen ebony ichor flowed at the uttermost edge of her diabolical sight, where the dark was deepest. She moved closer, looking over the edge of the barricade, but the veins were only ever at the tip of her sight, but they were always there, in every direction she looked.

Senket, somewhat perturbed by this, roused Yndri and Julian, somewhat surprised to find that Yndri was once again truly sleeping and not in trance. She filed it away for later thought as she asked them if they saw what she saw. Yndri looked out into the deep of the woods and indeed saw them at the very border of her sight. Julian on the other hand saw only dark woods and went back to sleep, muttering about the halfling’s cooking again.

The two women agreed that this was definitely not just a side effect of spicy trout. Yndri took to the trees to get closer, but just as with Senket, the vines seemed to retreat, staying only ever where she could just barely make it out where the dark met the edge of vision.

As an experiment, Yndri cast a gleaming enchantmenton an arrow and fired it into the dark. Peering out, her elf eyes saw the vines again only existed at the outermost borders of the light, vanishing and reappearing seemingly at an instance. Somewhat disturbed by this eerie phenomenon, the two agreed to hold the rest of the watch together. As they stood there in the dark, they began to chat in quiet tones.

”So, do elves in this part of the world actually sleep?” Senket asked curiously.

”Generally, not, but I do.” She responded.

”Hm.., are you a diviner?”

”What? No, what gave you that idea?”

”Looking at the stars, wearing the moonbow on your back, and trying to dream.”

”How did you know I was trying to dream?”

”Lucky guess. The oracles would do something similar. Drink a special brew, smoke a certain plant, and look for the divine in strange dreams. Occasionally they’d find something.”

”That’s not a tradition I’ve heard of. Where are you from anyways?”

”It’s a continent called Muab, several weeks sail south and west from the southernmost ports.”

”Quite a long way then. What made you decide to leave?”

“That’s somewhat personal. I’ll tell you if you tell me why you’re trying to dream.”

”Bargaining run in the family?”

”Only about as much as randomly swapping sexes runs in yours.” Senket noted, referring to an odd ability of the elves to change their sex at a whim.

”Point taken, sorry.”

”I’m used to it. So, are you going to tell me?”

Yndri considered it for a few moments, and then sighed. “Seems I’ll have to tell someone at some point, may as well be someone who’s willing to fight alongside me. Do you know what happens in trance?”

”It’s basically a better version of sleep, right? You’re more aware and get rested in half the time, right?”

”Not exactly. Well, not just that. In trance, an elf relives memories, memories of both our current lives, and for the oldest and the youngest amongst us, memories of our past lives.”

”Hm, I’d heard that Oberon spat elf souls back out into new bodies, never realized they can remember the old bodies they had.”

”A bit cruder than I’d have put it, but more or less that’s how it’s supposed to work, yes.”

”You say supposed to work, I take it that there are times when it doesn’t?”

”Yes.”

”And you’re one of those times, so you dream hoping you’ll remember an old life.”

”Yes.”

”Does it ever work?”

Yndri grimaced, rubbing the back of her head through her pale hair. “Occasionally, either that or they’re just normal nightmares. Nothing good, but at least there’s something. Alright, your side of the bargain now.”

”Long story short, religion and family issues. Do you remember the plague that happened about twenty years ago?”

”Right, I was just finishing my training when that whole mess ended. Wasn’t it started by some wizard trying to become a god?”

“That’s the one. I was twelve when they destroyed him. That was all that anyone talked about, of course not everyone looked at the soul monger’s death the same way. Some people thought that it posed a remarkable opportunity to gobble up the rather huge number of souls that were released.”

”I take it this is where the family issues came in.”

”Right. To make a very long story short the same people who destroyed the Soul Monger wound up dealing with this particular cult, including a certain Paladin by the name of Sir Arvidor. It was him who wound up taking me in after that whole mess. He trained me, and eventually he left me in charge of the small shrine to Sigurd we’d built there.”

”I take it something happened to the shrine?”

“Muab happened.”

”The continent?”

”And its god, a primordial thing of old power, old pantheons long forgotten. A divine gravekeeper, watching the land where gods go to die. After the whole soul monger incident, it offered the people who destroyed that monster rather remarkable amounts of power. They all accepted, except Arvidor. Muab held a grudge. So, one day an earthquake struck, wiped out the shrine, and then about twenty odd dinosaurs show up to make sure the shrine stays wiped out. I was smart enough to not stay on a continent with an angry god, and was on the first boat out of there, admittedly without a ticket. Wound up working my way out of there, and from there just kept traveling northeast, kind of hoping I can find Arvidor.”

”Any trace?”

”None. Every lead I had seemed to suggest he’s on another plane, whether he’s traveling or dead, can’t be sure. Still, I’ll figure it out eventually. For now, the gods have me here, and here’s where I’ll keep fighting.”

They passed the rest of the night in silence, Senket eventually bedding back down at Yndri’s insistence. The paladins awoke slightly groggy, Senket particularly so. To deal with the grogginess, she began boiling water, and then added a packet something that looked like dirt yet smelled rich and bitter.

“What in the nine hells is that?” Julian asked.

“Coffee. It’s a bean that grows where I’m from and a few other places on this continent. When you ground it up and boil it, it gives people the equivalent of a few extra hours of sleep. You’re welcome to some.” Senket explained. Julian and Kazador declined, but Yndri and Peregrin took her up on the offer. Both were slightly horrified at the taste, but Sen casually sipped hers while they discussed the strange visions of last night and determined their next course of action.

The paladins decided to continue following the river, and Peregrin suggested that they create a raft to speed their travels. After a few hours of work, they were successful and rode along their merry way, Peregrin acting as captain while Kazador, Julian, and Senket handled poling.

Around midday they were busy eating their midday meal when Yndri and Peregrin’s ears perked up at the sudden sound of rushing water. Looking ahead the party saw the land begin to fall away and the river running in a series of rapids and cataracts down with it. Kazador leapt to his feet to try to get to the pole, unbalancing the raft and falling out for his troubles. Julian tossed him a line while Senket seized the pole and tried to push them ashore. Peregrin secured the food in his pack and Yndri tied a second line to an arrow, firing it into a nearby tree.

Kazador floundered slightly, cursing loudly in dwarvish as the rapid current started to pull him and the raft into the cataracts. Julian pulled for all he was worth to try to pull the angry dragonborn in, while Senket pushed just as hard against the current. Peregrin grabbed the tree line to try to hold them fast but instead began being pulled from the raft. Yndri dove to catch him and began sliding off as well, holding onto his ankles as he held onto the rope.

Despite their best efforts, the raft went over as did Kazador. Julian, in desperation, flared his wings and took flight, unable to haul the dragonborn out of the water, but able to keep his head above the spray. As Senket realized the futility of trying to break free, she swiped outwards with the pole and managed to push Yndri aside into the shallows where the tall elf could stand upright. Thanks to this, Yndri and Peregrin managed to use the rope to pull themselves ashore, and Julian kept dry in the air. Kazador took a few bashes to his legs and one to his manhood, prompting a wheezing cough.

Senket, on the other hand, held on for dear life to the raft as it rolled and pitched before her grip slipped. She went flying, but by sheer luck she landed on the bough of a nearby tree, her tunic caught in the branches. Peregrin offered a small prayer to the goddess in thanks as the raft leapt from atop the nearby rocks and crashes off the stream, breaking upon a rocky bar.

Kazador limped out of the steam. “Take a raft he said, it’ll be easy an’ peaceful he said. Bloody halflings!” He cursed as he sat down and judiciously applied some healing magic and equally judiciously applied alcohol to his throat.

One minor throttling of Peregrin later, the party got Senket down from her tree and spent a the rest of the day retrieving their supplies and drying off. They continued on for the next few hours until the dark set in and they set up camp. Fortunately, Yndri’s map and cartography supplies were in their case, so the map continued.

Another night haunted by shadow vines passed without incident, though the party can hear the howling of wolves in the distance. None could tell if this is more goblin riders or just wolves being wolves. In any case, they doused the fire and slept with one eye open.

In the morning, they marched onwards, until they saw the woods beginning to thin, and spied a bridge in the distance, with two towers on each side. Yndri approached stealthily and observed that the old bridge, most likely of dwarven and human make, had been occupied by yet more hobgoblins, though lacking their usual fortified encampment.

The party considered how to deal with the problem. They fully intended to take the bridge, but they could not assault one side without the other being able to send for reinforcements. As such, Julian devised a scheme to attack from three sides. Yndri and Senket would attack from one side of the river, while Kazador and Peregrin attacked from the other. In the meanwhile, Julian would swim though the river, fly onto the bridge from the center, and strike into the back lines of whatever side seemed weaker. From there, their full forces would converge on the center, and hew the foe down.

Julian loaned Kazador his crossbow, then Peregrin and Kazador swam across the river. There were two crossbowmen, one in each tower, a guard at the foot of each tower, and two guards in the center of the bridge who had sat down and started playing cards. On the opposite side, Senket and Yndri saw a similar scene, although the guards on the bridge proper were busy discussing something in their oddly academic tongue.

Julian hung back at the tree line, waiting for things to start before he started swimming. The rest of the party took aim. A stone flew, a bolt loosed, an elven bow sang, and a bolt of hellfire screamed through the late morning light. Kazador’s shot went wide. Peregrin’s stone cracked across a crossbowman’s hand, leaving broken bones and a stinging welt. The recipient of the silver arrow fell quietly (one). The unfortunate woman set ablaze did not go quietly, but rather began screaming as her hair was engulfed in indigo flames. Julian took that for his signal and plunged beneath the chill waters towards the bridge.

The confused hobgoblins turned towards their screaming comrade, but the one struck by Peregrin’s stone barked a warning that they were being flanked. Peregrin confirmed this by hitting him in the mouth with another bullet. Yndri finished the blazing hobgoblin, muttering “two” under her breath. Kazador took more careful aim and picked off the unwounded hobgoblin with a lucky shot to the eye. “One!” Julian continued closer, swimming forwards to the bridge until its shadow passes over him, then he surfaced. Senket left the cover of the tree line, charging forwards into the very surprised hobgoblins and smashing one of the tower guards over the side of the head.

The surviving crossbow hobgoblin ducked back into the tower away from the stinging missiles. Across the bridge, the bludgeoned hobgoblin took a swipe at Senket, which she caught on her shield. The others began moving in, but only one got close enough to take another strike with his halberd, which her mail turned aside. Yndri finished the wounded hobgoblin, expertly placing an arrow through the melee under Senket’s arm directly into his abdomen. “Two.”

Meanwhile, the rest of that side leapt to their feet and began advancing in a phalanx towards Kazador and Peregrin. Peregrin spotted s young hobgoblin who hadn’t yet had time to properly link up with the phalanx and charged him, two swords opening two long cuts in his legs.

Julian erupted from the river; wings raised in all their angelic glory as he dove towards the hobgoblins attacking Senket. The rearmost one turned in utter shock, just barely able to get his shield up in time to deflect the greatsword falling towards him. Senket sidestepped, putting the wall at her left side to keep from being flanked as she laid into another soldier, the crude scale mail keeping his ribs intact.

Kazador smiled at the phalanx and punished their tight formation with a gout of flame from his jaws, scorching their shields and forcing them to scatter. Wary now, the phalanx scattered, one breaking off to aid his comrade, who very successfully murdered the ground next to Peregrin. The other two circled Kazador, cautiously striking, one from each side, and each repulsed by dwarven armor and skillfully wielded axes. Kazador laid into the weaker Hobgoblin, the one who took more of a burning from his breath. The first axe splits the shield, the second, the skull. “Two!” The last hobgoblin launched a desperate assault on Kazador’s turned back, laying it open and breathing easier for just a moment before Kazador turned around growling.

Across the bridge, the blue nosed hob realized he’d been pincered, and in desperation launches an all-out assault on Julian, forsaking his shield to use both hands on his arming sword. He was rewarded with the sudden red stain blossoming upon the nephilim’s tunic. Meanwhile, his minions proved unable to break through Senket’s iron defenses. Yndri kept the pressure on, catching another goblin in the shoulder. Senket followed through, breaking his guard, then his neck.

Julian struck the hob leader right in his blue nose with his pommel, stunning him just long enough to slip around his guard and lay open his side with a lunging stab. The hobgoblin leader looked across the bridge and saw that there was no escape to be found there, so he took his chances, disengaging and fleeing, clutching his wounded side. Across the way, the crossbowman poked his head up and saw just about all his friends were dead. He ran the numbers, and then took aim with his crossbow, and fired. His former commander lay dead with a crossbow bolt in his back an instant later.

Peregrin rolled under the hobgoblin’s legs, cutting them out from under him and then executing the downed soldier with a stab through the back of his neck. The other fellow kept his distance, shield warding him, and reach giving him an edge. He landed a cut on the smaller swordsmaster, opening a narrow cut across his forehead. Peregrin swiped, the blood flowing into his eye ruining the strike. The hobgoblin smacked it down and trapped the blade under his foot. However, the goblinoid failed to realize the orientation of the sword as he went to trap it, and accidentally cut his own foot in half. Peregrin moved in, striking him with the flat of the blade and knocked him out.

Yndri was surprised to see the blue-nose go down, and her eyes tracked the shot’s likely path back to the traitor. She knew she should feel disgust but couldn’t help but feel a certain strange respect for a well-executed backstab.

Kazador made the surviving loyal hob regret striking him in the back. And ever being born for that matter. Blood was not the only of that poor bastards’ fluids pooling out around his newly headless body. Julian flew up to the treacherous marksman, who threw down his weapon and placed his hands behind his head. “I surrender.” He said in rough akarian.

The two hobgoblins were sat on the side of the bridge as the paladins interrogated them. Peregrin had mended his captive’s foot, and once again made them tea. His drank it, the other did not. “Well, let’s begin where we begin. I am Peregrin Bar-Peregrin. With me are Kaz, Julian, Yndri, and Senket.” Peregrin introduced himself. “Who are you?”

“Septimus Septimus Decius.” Peregrin’s captive explained, earning a glare from the other one.

“Still clinging to that I see then? You really are honorless.”

“You shot one of our comrades in the back Octavian, I don’t want to hear any of it.”

“Right.” Octavian noted, switching back to common. “You can ignore him. He’s Octoginata Decius Primus. I am Octavian Decius Primus.”

“Seven seven ten? Eighty ten one? Eight ten one?” Peregrin repeated incredulously. “Those are numbers, not names.”

“They’re hobgoblins.” Julian noted. “They have legions, not families. Designations for the grunts, and names only for the commanders and nobles. Generally though, they’ve got nicknames to help keep them distinct from the previous one in their slot.”

“I see, so what’s the nickname then Septimus?”

“He’s an eighty. He doesn’t know shit, and he’s going to lie to you. He already lied about his name.” Octavian grumbled. “Pitch him, I’ll tell the truth.”

Peregrin turned on Octavian with a glint in his hazel eyes that made the hobgoblin turn pale, then returned to the other. “So, what’s your name? Your actual name.”

“Jort.” Jort replied. It wasn’t much of a name, a slang term for short messages and orders, typically written on scraps of metal.

“Well then, Jort, sorry about your foot. Let’s see if we can’t get to know one another eh? There’s never too odd a time to make friends.”

#creative writing #i wrote it #writing #paladins #Bard #Order Undivided

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circusfans-italia · 1 year

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45 FESTIVAL DI MONTE-CARLO: foto 1° show

45 FESTIVAL DI MONTE-CARLO: foto 1° show Come da tradizione, eccovi le fotografie del 1° Spettacolo di selezione del 45° Festival International du Cirque de Monte-Carlo attualmente in corso. Le fotografie sono state scattate in occasione dello spettacolo del 20/01/2023.

In due news dello scorso 19/01/23 Circusfans Italia vi ha informato sui programmi delle due serate di selezione. Rispetto a quanto annunciato quel giorno, nei due programmi proposti è intervenuta una modifica riguardo alla scaletta. Al fine di rendere più fluida la serata, sono stati invertiti i due numeri presentati dalla Troupe di Mustafa Danguir: la ruota della morte è parte del 1° spettacolo di selezione, il filo alto con la piramide a 7 è presentato nel 2° spettacolo. Per comodità, vi riporto qui di seguito la scaletta dello spettacolo come annunciati nella news del 19/01/23: - Opening Circus Théâtre Bingo / Parade - Elisa Cussadie (Italia) pappagalli - Ameli Bilyk (New Generation) – filo molle - Black Blues Brothers – acrobatica - Clowns Equivokee - Peter Marvey – grandi illusioni "monociclo" - Deadly Games – lanciatori di coltelli - Clowns Equivokee - Mistery of Gentlemen - acrobatica sui globi - Wesley Williams – Moncicli - Troupe Bingo - Peter Marvey – grandi illusioni "Diamond" Intervallo - Bruno Togni - 9 tigri di 3 colori - Mister Lorenz - clown - René, Merrylu Casselly e Quincy Azzario - Pas de Trois - Troupe Bingo & Mister Lorenz "ripresa alla scala libera" - Kimberly Zavatta (New Generation) – cinghie aeree - Viktoriia Dziuba – verticalista - Alex Giona - cavalleria - Kris & Harisson Kremo - giocolieri - Clowns en Folie - Troupe Mustafa Danguir - doppia ruota della morte - Circus Théâtre Bingo - Gran Finale

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after-witch · 3 years

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Bite [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Bite [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: The guests are well-dressed, and you are well-dressed, because Chrollo loves nothing more than to cover you with fine fabrics and draping jewels. You are, after all, his most precious possession. And he takes good care of the things he owns.

Inspired by a quote from Gretel and Hansel (2020): “Say that again and I will turn your tongue into a flower, to remind you how pretty and dumb and temporary you've chosen to be.”

Word Count: 3783

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, afab reader, implications of violence, suicidal thoughts + expressions

It’s a beautiful evening, in all respects. The reception room is sparkling with expensive stars; sequin-encrusted dresses, glittering jewels, dimmed romantic lighting bouncing off champagne glasses and priceless diamonds alike.

The guests are well-dressed, and you are well-dressed, because Chrollo loves nothing more than to cover you with fine fabrics and draping jewels. You are, after all, his most precious possession. And he takes good care of the things he owns.

And he does take care of you. He insists on making sure you can’t argue on that point. He wines you and dines you and presses tender kisses to your neck. He extends his arm to you while escorting you into the gala, as if this was normal, as if he was simply a gentlemen and you were his beloved companion for the evening.

As if he didn’t kidnap you and take you away from the world, as if he didn’t impose himself on you in every way, pressing down on you so hard that you had no choice but to submit to his will. In the face of his strength, his intelligence, his power, what he could do to you, you had no other choice.

If you had a choice, you certainly wouldn’t have picked to come here tonight.

There’s simply too much here. Too much noise and sight and emotion. Even when Chrollo takes you places, it’s rarely somewhere as wild and open and busy as this. He takes you to a private room at a fine restaurant. A booth at the opera house. A museum, after-hours, money exchanged with the guards. This is not that. This is an entire room crammed with people who talk and move and exist in an entirely different sphere than your own.

Laughing and dancing partners and oohing-and-ahhing over every little thing the waiters bring out on silver trays. You fight the urge to wipe sweat that’s beading on the back of your neck, a consequence of the creeping anxiety that’s building around you.

It all makes you feel like a deer, wanting to stay stock still until the threat has passed. But Chrollo wouldn’t bring you here simply to keep you in one spot, and so you’re forced to walk with him, arm-in-arm, making small talk now and then. You pretend that he’s not searching for his target, and he pretends that you don’t know he’ll be shedding blood before the night is out.

Yet even if the looming shadow of Chrollo wasn’t hanging over you, even if you hadn’t been kept so isolated for months on end making you wary of all this noise, this still wouldn’t be your scene. You had been a thief yourself, before; nothing grand, nothing violent, nothing that came even close to the edges of what Chrollo and his Troupe did. Pickpockets and store shelves, keeping you fed and with a nice watch or dress now and then. No museum heists and trails of blood. But a thief nonetheless.

And perhaps it’s long repressed nostalgia for before that pushes you to you eye up these men and women as you might have done before. It’s a nice way to distance yourself, to stretch away from the pressure of the crowd and put yourself above it all.

That woman there, with the too-bright lipstick and her third glass of champagne, is wearing two bracelets--she likely wouldn’t notice the weight of just one missing, making her a good target. The man with the bulging pocket at the back of his pants clearly tucked a wallet or something else of value in there. He wouldn’t even notice it was gone until you were lost in the crowd, a faceless ghost. And that couple, they--

“Old habits?” Your nostalgic gazing is interrupted with a whispered question. Of course--of course, he’d be watching you.

There’s a low mirth in his tone, and you know (and are thankful) that he isn’t annoyed by your internal intrigues. You’ve been behaving well.

It wasn’t that you wanted to be good for him. The way he praised you after such outings made your skin crawl, the way his voice would grow thick with patronizing approval, the way his mouth would find its way to all of your sensitive spots--these things were meant to be rewards, and you wished in vain you had the nerve to fight back against them.

Such nerve had, you imagine, long been snuffed out. It didn’t take many consequences for you to shed the idea of escaping like a second skin, leaving behind only the fresh, raw acceptance of your helplessness behind.

And if there was one thing Chrollo enjoyed more than tearing you down, it was building you back up, molding you, raw clay in his hands.

You made for a fascinating project.

In answer, you shake your head. Not in denial but to rid yourself of nostalgic fantasies.

“Just playing around, I suppose.”

Before he can discern what to respond, you feel him tense up. Just a little. Not enough that anyone else but you--who have been his unwilling companion for so long now--would notice. This must mean that he’s spotted his target.

A low curiosity fills your chest at the realization. What will it be, this time? Will he take out the entire ballroom, painting all the women in their finery blood-red, complimenting the wine they’ve been drinking all night? Or will he keep it low, quick, isolating his target and taking their life without so much as a whisper? Perhaps he’ll even stick around after the deed, waltzing you across the room as if you’re merely ordinary attendees, to avoid arousing suspicion.

You’ll know soon enough. You’ll see it, soon enough, because there is no way in heaven or hell that Chrollo would leave you alone in such a crowded room. Even subdued and broken as you are.

And yet.

He turns himself around, and you can’t help but raise your eyebrow as he takes your hand in his, bowing low. He kisses it gently and looks up with deliberately lidded eyes.

“I’ll be back as soon as I’ve taken care of my business, love. Do stay out of trouble.”

You don’t hide the surprise on your expression, and you hear a sound akin to an undignified sputter come out of your mouth. But before fully-formed questions can fly from your lips, he merely turns around and walks away, all business.

He’s… left you alone.

In a room.

A crowded room.

With other people.

For a few moments, you are frozen to the spot. It’s a trick. A test. He’s seeing what you’ll do. If you try to run, he’ll catch you and probably kill everyone in here before turning his attention to you, and you don’t want to even think about what he would do then. If you try to talk to someone, he’ll listen carefully and squeeze himself in just as you’re about to ask for help. Then he’ll threaten to gag you for a week the next time that you try something so stupid.

But… time passes. And he doesn’t appear to be coming back. You don’t hear screams or shouts. He really did leave you alone and all at once there’s a warm feeling that blossoms in your limbs, adrenaline pumping.

You can get the hell out of here. Can’t you? You have to get the hell out of here. What were you thinking, standing by his side all night? Playing the smiling, sweet arm candy? Being good?

But you’re not stupid. You know not to run, not to grab someone’s silk-suit arm and beg for help. That would be monstrously, monumentally pathetic on your part, because it would grab too much notice.

So you glance around and look for the exits. The main exit is too obvious and too sparse, with everyone scattering away to join the various groups as soon as they’ve entered the room. The bathrooms are another option, but they may not have windows, and by the time you get to them your window of opportunity may be gone. The emergency exit would draw attention, if there’s an alarm.

But there--you don’t stare at it too long, keeping your eyes downcast, just in case. There’s a single door off to the side, leading… somewhere. No one appears to pay the door any notice, which means it’s not likely to have occupants behind it. It could be an exit. Or at least, a potential room that leads somewhere deeper, hidden, in the building.

It’s worth a try. And is it any wonder that you start feeling like yourself again, now that your mind is made up? That you get that warm, buzzing feeling that you used to get before you stole someone’s wallet or shoved something in your bookbag or easily lifted a hotel key so you could have somewhere to sleep for the night.

It’s like you’re coming alive.

He might be watching. Might. So you take a step, then another, and wander until you’re near one of the waiters carrying trays of chilled champagne. A glass of champagne, sure. If he is watching you, he can’t begrudge you something else to drink. The bubbles tickle your throat and you know champagne doesn’t take effect that fast, but you swear you feel its bright giddiness spreading as you take each sip.

Step, step, another step. You set your glass on the tray of a wandering waiter and decline another one, though you’re tempted, if only to steel your nerves.

You’re so close to that door, and everyone is too wrapped up in their little worlds, their conversations and dances and flirtations, to notice or care about you. The walls are gilded and bumpy as you press your back against the door and jiggle the handle.

Unlocked. You don’t wait, don’t hesitate, but open the door just enough to slip inside and shut it just as quickly.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you wait for a moment, then another. No one opens the door. No champagne-carrying staff whips it open to demand you leave at once. No curious onlooker tries the knob. You did it. You made it inside.

You try to calm yourself, keep yourself grounded. You stare at the door and force yourself to think. You need to take stock of your surroundings first. Is it an exit? Another room? Are there other doors, and where do they lead?

You turn around to take in the necessary information, registering that the mystery room is surprisingly chilly and dark and smells like fresh air and--oh.

You’ve walked right onto a balcony.

You don’t know whether you should laugh or cry. Perhaps both. Because you know from your ride in the gold-tinted elevators, Chrollo keeping you snugly at his side, that this gala is four stories above the ground.

How are you going to get down?

Is four stories enough to kill you? You think it could. It might. It’s a serious risk. But you can’t go back inside, because by this point, perhaps Chrollo has wandered back in the room and he might see you and you can’t lie to him and he’ll know. But you can’t exactly risk death or--in the very very best case scenario--broken limbs, either.

But you can’t give up. You can’t do that, not now, not after what you just did. Your stomach curls in repulsion at the thought of going back to Chrollo now, at the thought of what he might do to you. The days of consequences were long past, rebellion drummed out of you with repetition, but the memory of them had never faded.

So you take a breath. You have to figure out a solution. You can do that. You’re not stupid, no matter what Chrollo thinks. You’re not weak.

Looking around is easier now that your eyes have adjusted to the light. Dim outdoor lighting doesn’t provide much, but the clouds covering the full moon above have started to move and you can get a better look around. There’s nothing on the balcony but a vase and what you think might be a plastic plant, given its lushness despite the cold weather. You lean over the railing to see if perhaps there’s--impossibly--a ladder or some way to get down, but of course there isn’t.

But--there. When you lean over far enough, you get a glimpse of the wall below the balcony, perhaps half a meter behind the ledge. It’s covered in vines and you see bits of white lattice work behind them. You could climb down that, couldn’t you? Your hands will get roughed up but it’s a small price to pay for freedom.

You just have to get over the railing and somehow grab the lattice without falling.

Goosebumps sprinkle up your arm at the thought. The boldness from the adrenaline and champagne seems fuzzy now, muffled behind the shut balcony door along with the din from the crowd inside.

What if you fall and the fall kills you?

What if you don’t try and Chrollo finds you?

Your hands grip the balcony railing, knuckles tight from tension, and you know that you have to try. You aren’t as limber as you used to be--being shut up all the time has made your muscles weaker, made you feel more frail--but this isn’t some athletic trial, is it? It’s climbing over a railing and grabbing onto some wooden fence work… perhaps you can latch onto the lattice with your feet, first? It would give you some purchase before you let go of the railing.

How much time has passed since Chrollo left you? Was he already in the room, coldly furious at your absence? Was he stalking the room, looking for you? Would he turn the latch on that balcony door and find you standing here, wasting your time debating?

Your leg is over the railing before another question has time to rush through you. The dress you’re wearing feels so slinky, so slippery, so gaudy now that it’s hanging down uselessly on either side of the rail. You keep your hands clenched on the railing and as you swing your other leg over, your heels perched on a thin slab of cement, the realization that you could fall sinks through you like lead.

You could die like this. Scurrying over a balcony in an evening gown, champagne on your tongue. Before you can stop yourself, you crane your neck and look down at the dark ground below.

It looks so, so much higher than it did when you were on the other side.

Would it be quick, if you fell? A sudden impact on cement? There’s a dark pocket of thought that worms its way into your brain. What if you let go. What if you just let go. It would be the first serious decision you’ve made in so long. It would be the first time you’ve been able to control your own life in so long. Chrollo can’t envelope you, can’t force you into his world, can’t make you be what he wants if you’re not alive.

What if, what if.

The thought doesn’t pass, exactly, but it goes nowhere. It stays where it was born, festering, flickering, but weak. You don’t want to die. Not really. You want freedom, real freedom, freedom to live the way you choose; death would not be freedom, but an end.

So you kneel down as slowly, as carefully as you can. The little amount of concrete under your knees, digging and painful, doesn’t give you much purchase on the ledge. But it should be easier to try to reach the trellis from here. You have to be quick. You have to be decisive. You have to be all the things you used to be, before Chrollo happened.

So you let go.

You expect to feel air rushing down, anticipate thrusting your hands out and gripping wood that splinters your fingers while you tangle your legs up in vines to keep you from falling onto the cold cement below.

Instead, two arms constrict around you, warm and unforgiving, too tight as you’re lifted up and back over the railing. Fingers bruise against your upper arms to keep you in place. You feel dizzy. This is wrong. This isn’t what was supposed to happen.

It’s Chrollo. Of course. You can’t look at him, instead struggling against his grip, uselessly, thinking that if you can just get back over the railing--

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You’ve never heard him talk like this before and the terrifying novelty of it makes you freeze entirely. He sounds angry. He sounds scared.

Your voice catches in your throat as you get the nerve to look at him, and it’s there, all there, for an all-too-soon moment before it vanishes behind a mask. Fear and anger, emotions he doesn’t normally conjure up on his face. Are they real? Is he doing it because you might expect him to, given the fact that he just pulled you over a balcony railing with a none-too-significant drop below it?

“I--”

Would it be stupid to tell him the truth? You were trying to escape. You were trying to be free--free from him and everything he expects from you. Your heart keeps hammering while you try to figure out what to do. There’s always a trick, there’s always a game, there’s always a fine, fine, fine tightrope to walk with Chrollo. One step the wrong way and everything goes off-kilter.

“I was trying to get down.”

It’s not the whole truth, but it’s not a lie.

His bruising grip on your arm relents, though he doesn’t entirely let go.

“I see that.” He glances behind you, over the balcony rail, down to what you were looking at only moments ago. It feels like ages have passed since your leg lifted over the railing, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two.

Chrollo releases one of your arms and cups one of your cheeks in his hand. His touch is so gentle that it makes your stomach roil. You flick your gaze up towards his eyes and hate what you find there; hate the look that he gives, as if he’s looking right into you, as if he can see every thought whirring in your brain. Maybe he can. You don’t know the full extent of what he can do, nor do you ever want to find out.

Despite the circumstances--and the ironclad grip he keeps on your left arm--his tone is soft and patronizing. As if you’re a child caught running with scissors.

“You could have fallen. Do you know what a fall from this height would do to you?”

He squeezes your arm when you don’t respond. It doesn’t hurt, not when you know how much he could hurt you, if he wanted. It’s a warning squeeze.

“Well?”

That festering dark thought rears its ugly head, bursting out of your mouth at the worst possible time.

“I don’t care.” You should stop yourself. But you don’t, you can’t, not when all you can think about is your feet landing firmly on that ground and running far away from here. Not when you can imagine yourself tearing through the shadows, hitching a ride from someone, anyone, on the street and getting as much distance between you and Chrollo as possible.

But instead of that, you’re here, standing in front of him; his strength and intelligence practically bursting at the seams, letting you know that you failed and you’re right back where you started.

No, you’re worse off, because now you’ve done something wrong. Something that you know will alter the trajectory of your life for the next few weeks, at minimum, until he’s satisfied that you’re behaving again.

How long can you live like this? How long can you stay sane like this?

You think about the drop, you think about letting go and not clawing desperately for the vines but letting your arms splay out. You think about being free.

“I’d rather be dead,” you choke, throat tight, tears flowing, hot and pointless. “I’d rather be dead than keep going on like this.”

You don’t have time to dwell on the buried truth that’s burst out of you before crackling pressure thickens the air, and you know what’s coming even before Chrollo lets go of your arm. His far-too-familiar book appears out of thin air right into his waiting hands, pages flying.

He looks up from the book, and his dark eyes root you to the spot just as easily as his ironclad grip. “Say that again, and I will turn your tongue into a flower, just to remind you how pretty and dumb and temporary you’ve chosen to be.”

Your lips curl and your tongue presses against the back of your mouth protectively. Suddenly the fall from the balcony feels too high and hard, and you imagine your head cracking on the pavement, imagine the pain, imagine the permanent loss of everything.

Suddenly the idea of escaping seems so stupid, so childish, so short-sighted. You never would have been able to grab the lattice. Or it would have broken under your weight. Or you would have slipped in your heels, scraping your soft skin on sharp, broken wood on the way down.

Maybe you are stupid, like he says. Maybe you are too weak to be on your own.

It’s easier to pretend that he’s right about you than to face the truth, either way.

Your fingers curl inward until your hands shake. In a moment, the book is gone, and Chrollo is there, wrapping his arms around you. You let him press your head against your chest and sink into his touch, as you’ve been trained to do.

You try to focus on his cologne, on the surprising warmth his body exudes, at the way he strokes your head in a manner that you suppose is meant to soothe. You try not to think about what will happen later tonight, or what you just did, or the corpse that Chrollo left behind before he found you.

The old you who resurfaced tonight is gone, paved over with the person you’ve been forced to become in order to survive. As if sensing your submission, Chrollo presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head. Good. You’re being good.

He breathes in, inhaling the scent of your freshly washed hair, the perfume he’d dabbed on your neck in an intimate gesture earlier that night. Taking in the memories that come with each of them; the pair of you in the shower together, the pair of you standing in front of your vanity as he selects just the right scent. The pair of you, together, just as he always envisioned.

“My silly thing. I’ll never let you go. Not like that. Not ever.”

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest

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cinebration · 3 years

Text

Magic Ink (Geralt x Reader) [Request]

Hello! I see you are taking requests, I wanted one where Geralt and reader get matching tattoos — Requested by anon

I know this isn’t probably what you expected, but since I couldn’t hack this as a Modern AU, I had to come up with a reason why a woman in the Continent from that era would have a tattoo.

Warnings: none

Gif Source: frodo-sam

Everyone but you had a shtick in the traveling troupe. There was Lila of the dyed green hair, though she told everyone she was born that way, and Gillum of the mismatched eyes, caused by a fist to the face during a drunken brawl. Eloise claimed to be the reincarnation of the Elf Queen, and Bertie could make any of the tattoos on his muscles dance.

Then there was you. You didn’t know what to choose or even how to go about doing it. You acted as assistant to some of the acrobatic acts, juggling for some fools and ensuring costumes fit properly. Bertie was making that difficult, as his drinking had gotten out of control and had contributed to a swelling beer gut.

It was decent work, and you didn’t complain, but you wanted more than to play second fiddle. Not that you could play the fiddle…

It was on a trip to find more fabric to accommodate Bertie’s expanding girth that you stumbled across a reedy man who looked like a vagrant but smelled like a courtesan. As you passed him, studiously avoiding his scrutinizing gaze, he called, “Dear lady! Such unblemished skin. You are the perfect canvas!”

You hesitated. A canvas? For art? Slowly turning back, your hands toying with the stick you carried to fend off anything from starving dogs to lecherous men, you asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, an artist can do much with something so perfect!”

“What artist?”

He swept into a low bow and smiled, revealing startlingly white, straight teeth. “Lechforte, at your service.”

Rolling the stick between your rough palms, you turned over the possibility he was suggesting. Bertie had tattoos, but a woman with some would be more of a marvel. Showing some skin would be required, which always drew crowds.

You could already hear the troupe leader crowing, “Come see the painted lady! The Perfect Canvas!”

“What would you want from me?”

Lechforte smiled graciously. “Merely to have my name alongside yours, so that all may know who had the honor of painting you.”

Geralt trotted into town on Roach, Jaskier bustling beside him. The bard’s cheeks were red from exertion and his eyes wild with exhaustion, but he kept up the pace, eager for the inn. As they entered the town, a man in motley cried at their arrival, “Come see the Unusuals! The Green Lady and the Elf Queen! The Perfect Canvas!”

“Ooo, a new troupe,” Jaskier managed to say between huffed breaths. “We ought to see them, Geralt.”

Geralt grunted in disagreement.

“Come on, the ladies are guaranteed to be randy, if not fine.”

Geralt glared at him.

Jaskier sighed and sagged against the post of the inn in relief. “You are no fun.”

“We’re not here to have fun,” Geralt growled, dismounting.

They were hunting a sorcerer, a man who had escaped from prison the night before he was to be hanged for treason. Geralt had reason to believe the man had traveled through the town, possibly seeking shelter or alms. Storming into the inn, he located the innkeeper and cornered him, demanding to know if he had seen the sorcerer. The innkeeper sputtered out a repetitive “no.”

“We keep moving.”

Jaskier stepped in Geralt’s path. “Absolutely not. I have been walking for days. I deserve a bath and a straw bed.”

Geralt’s mouth pulled into a frown, but Jaskier waved him off to find the innkeeper and secure lodgings.

The troupe crier’s voice carried back into the inn as Geralt vacillate between a nap and abandoning Jaskier.

“We should see them,” Jaskier commented as he waved Geralt over to the stairs. “You could use some entertainment.”

“Your company is enough,” the witcher replied dryly.

Jaskier faked a laugh. “I know you’re being sarcastic, but I will take the compliment.”

A few hours later, they were trudging out of the town to a nearby field where the troupe had set up their camp and stage. Night had begun to fall, chasing away the sunset with deep violet. Torches lit up around the camp as townsfolk wandered into its demarcated circle. The troupe leader began his spiel, his silky voice reaching all the ears in attendance. He was just shy of shouting, but to the witcher’s sensitive ears, it was too loud by far. He elected to tune the man out, trying to focus on anything else.

The players emerged and performed their acts. Boredom settled into the witcher’s bones. He watched a tattooed man ask the crowd which tattoo to dance.

Some drunk asked for an indecent bit. Without hesitation, the man dropped his trousers. The crowd went wild, the women shrieking and covering their eyes as the tattoo in question danced surprisingly well.

“I feel a new bawdy lyric coming on,” Jaskier laughed.

The man was ushered off the stage by the troupe leader, who did his best to salvage the evening. “Our last performer, ladies and gentlemen, is the perfect canvas for an artist’s grand imaginings. She has allowed herself to be painted by Lechforte, whose name you may know from the kingly courts. Behold the Perfect Canvas!”

You stepped out onto the stage wearing a commoner’s dress. A ripple of disapproval went through the crowd as you stood there, very little of your skin, the so-called “Perfect Canvas,” exposed.

Then you raised one hand in a grand flourish and slowly slid off the sleeve, revealing the first of the designs crawling up your arm. A hush descended over the crowd, breaths held in anticipation as bit by bit you peeled off the dress. What had appeared ordinary had, in fact, been altered to allow for you to display yourself without completely undressing, the fabric having been made into removable panels.

The witcher watched with mild interest until you turned and gently shrugged the back of your dress off, revealing a smooth swath of skin all along your spine. Geralt stiffened. Jaskier glanced aside at him, smirking, until he saw the dark cloud covering Geralt’s features.

“What is it?”

Geralt unconsciously touched his chest as his gaze darted around the platform, looking beyond the other performers to see if he could catch the sorcerer. There was no one there.

The crowd burst into applause as you swept into a low curtsy and gathered up the fabric you had shed. Geralt watched you leave, already moving to intercept you outside of the crowd’s prying gazes.

He caught you just as you were emerging from your tent, a cloak slipped over your bare shoulders. You froze, wary.

“Where did you get that tattoo?” he growled.

“Which one?”

“The one on your back.”

Frowning, you slipped the cloak off a fraction and turned to him, exposing the skin. “Which one?” Several crisscrossed your fine flesh.

His finger traced along a complex sigil on your left shoulder blade.

“I don’t have one there,” you muttered.

“I’m looking right at it.”

Racking your memory for the places Lechforte’s needle and brush had touched you, you shook your head. “You must be mistaken. I haven’t been tattooed there. Not the design you traced, at least.”

Geralt frowned, his gloved fingers lingering on the skin. You shivered in the cool night air.

“What…is it? The tattoo?”

“It’s a sigil,” he said thickly. “A sigil made by magic.”

“How do you know that?”

“I have one.” He touched the spot on his chest again. “The same one.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder. “How?”

“Magic.” Or a sorcerer who has cursed me.

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know.”

Slipping the cloak back up your shoulders, you faced him. Your gaze flittered over his features, taking him in. “you say it was made by magic?”

He nodded.

“Then it can be undone by magic?”

“Perhaps.”

“Can only you see the tattoo?”

A crease formed between the witcher’s eyebrows. “It’s possible.”

“Then was it meant for you?”

He hesitated, surprised by the question. He searched your calm features, trying to puzzle it out. Could that be its meaning? How else could you have obtained such a tattoo?

“Take me to your artist,” he rumbled. “We’ll find out.”

#Geralt x Reader #Geralt #Geralt imagine #Geralt of Rivia x Reader #Geralt of Rivia #Geralt of Rivia imagine #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill imagine #The Witcher #requests

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superman86to99 · 2 years

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Earth-Prime: Superman & Lois (April 2022)

We’re taking another time jump because we couldn’t resist talking about Tom Grummett’s return to Superman comics! For one issue, but still! This is a tie-in comic set in the world of the current Superman & Lois TV show, and we’ve known for some time that we have at least one fan of the ‘86-’99 era in the writing staff (there’s no other logical explanation for including freaking Sam Foswell). So, we were delighted but not surprised to see some shout outs to our favorite era in this issue. The comic includes three stories:

The Anniversary

Clark and Lois tell their kids the story of their first anniversary, which happened several days after it should have because one of them is a busy investigative reporter and the other is a busy investigative reporter AND a superhero. References we spotted:

We find out that this Clark shaves by reflecting his eye lasers on (presumably Kryptonian) metal, just like ours does, as established way back in 1986′s Man of Steel #4. Don Sparrow says: “Tyler Hoechlin (who plays Superman) has joked about how fine-tuned Superman’s heat vision would need to be to get his signature 5 o’clock shadow look, and here we see it in action.” Maybe he wants to do a full shave but his heat vision isn’t just as strong as comic book Superman’s?

Also, we see the Planet offices in the panel above and that’s obviously Ron Troupe there, but I wonder if the blonde is Andrea the intern, a secretly fascinating minor ‘80s-’90s character we gotta write an article about at some point (”Andrea” was a fake name; she was actually a supporting character in another comic who ran away to Metropolis).

Don: “Page 10 is a treasure trove of triangle era terrors, as we see not only Toyman, but also Hi-Tech, Killgrave, Barrage, Loophole, (another personal fave) Sleez, and Supergirl TV series Vigilante Philip Karnowsky all in one shot.” Barrage and Karnowsky being there is funny because Barrage’s name in the comics IS Philip Karnowsky, but the Supergirl show turned him into Vigilante. Also, are you sure that’s Professor Killgrave in the back, Don? Kinda looks more like Roger Stern to me.

Don again: “Superman also later faces off with Lobo (making me wonder if it’s the Irish SyFy version of the character, who I’d love to see on a proper Arrowverse show -- along with the excellent Brainiac from that series, while I’m dreaming). Lobo in turn makes reference to a female ‘redhead’ who has hired Lobo to track down Superman, which must be Maxima, given how often one of this issue’s writers talks about her on Twitter.”

Lobo then takes Superman to a place he “borrowed” from an old drinking buddy. Don: “This is it, ladies and gentlemen! Our first Arrowverse reference to Bibbo Bibbowski, albeit in the form of a Bubba Gump shrimp like restaurant, which Lobo steals entirely, Carmen Sandiego-style.” Wait, is this really the first reference to Bibbo in this universe in 10 years?! For shame. I would have started there.

Lois investigates a crooked politician who turns out to be in league with Intergang and the late (in our continuity) Bruno “Ugly” Mannheim. Also, just noticed that the cabbie below looks an awful lot like Professor Hamilton, who perhaps had a harder time finding work after his prison stint in this universe. (It was a missed opportunity not having him say the cab ride was $6,50, but I guess those prices are no longer realistic.)

Finally, the last page continues the long tradition of ending stories with a shot of Superman flying away from the Kent farm, started in Man of Steel #1. Don says this “should have been the issue’s cover” and I agree!

Father’s Day

A short story revealing how Pa Kent (and Robert Redford/Dustin Hoffman) inspired Clark to become a reporter and help people. No specific ‘86-’99 shout outs that we could spot.

Controlled Burn

The previously unrevealed origin of the evil Superman from the reality the show’s version of John Henry Irons hails from, who wears a black costume reminiscent of our Superman’s post-resurrection suit. Speaking of that storyline, we see a familiar scene regarding the DCU’s unluckiest city... Don: “Man, Coast City just can’t catch a break!”

This story includes an important appearance by “Morgan Edge,” but if you’ve watched the show you know the character is very different from his comic book counterpart. Also, a cameo by Magog, but since we’re living in 1994 we don’t know who that is (yet).

Don has much more to say on this issue, including references to other Superman eras and movies! Incidentally: Those who have read this issue, try to guess which page Don had signed by his personal friend/fellow Canuck Tom Grummett...

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

We begin with the cover by Kim Jacinto, and it’s… bad. Not good at all. I do appreciate that they included Tyler Hoechlin’s signature stubble, but otherwise, it’s a complete turnoff, especially in an issue where the interiors are drawn by the legendary Tom Grummett. To get pedantic: neither Hoechlin, nor Bitsie Tulloch have brown hair in the series. Tyler’s hair has no spit curl, his eyes are green, not blue. Jordan Elsass has light brown hair, not bright yellow, and no human being has faces like the super-sons are shown to have here. But I get that there are just as many readers who would prefer this cover over the interior art, and art appreciation is totally subjective. (And I admit, it’s entirely possible, and likely, even, that I’m just flat out envious, and wishing I could do a cover like this one.)

Inside, we’re thrown immediately into familiar surroundings, as we see the Kent farm in the moonlight, and it’s a great, comforting image to kick off the first chapter.

Everything we see is screen accurate, somehow without just looking like they’re tracing still images from the show. The cast here is a perfect blend of actor resemblance, and classic cartooning, so that you know who each character is, without slavishly looking identical to the performers. If pressed, I’d say Tom’s Lois looks the most like on-screen, but there’s not a wrong note for any character. The page layouts take a repetitive rhythm as you read the book, with the layouts being so similar page to page that it almost reads like an animatic as you turn the pages. The left page always has an action splash page taking up about 3/4s of the page, with a three-panel sequence of either Clark or Lois missing the other as they cover the tumultuous events of their lives as heroes and journalists, while the right side has a similar grid of the couple making plans, and doing their usual sleuthing. There’s no shortage of Easter eggs throughout, especially for a blog as devoted to the triangle era as this one! Page 4 has Superman taking on the Mechanical Monsters, looking for all the world like the ones in the old Fleischer cartoons (even the font on the newspaper on the following page matches the one from the cartoon).

Clark’s outfits and posture generally look more like Tyler Hoechlin than a traditional comic book version of the character. Page 8 is my personal favourite, as Superman goes toe-to-toe with Superman IV’s Nuclear Man, a character I love, as I’ve shown my young children that movie more than any of the other, more sophisticated Reeve films. That’s why I chose that page to be signed by none other than Tom Grummett himself at a recent signing. I did ask if I could buy the page, but he's hanging onto it for now!

Page 10 is a treasure trove of triangle era terrors, as we see not only Toyman, but also Hi-Tech, Killgrave, Barrage, Loophole, (another person fave) Sleez, and Supergirl TV series Vigilante Philip Karnowsky all in one shot. Superman also later faces off with Lobo (making me wonder if it’s the Irish SyFy version of the character, who I’d love to see on a proper Arrowverse show—along with the excellent Brainiac from that series, while I’m dreaming). Lobo in turn makes reference to a female “redhead” who has hired Lobo to track down Superman, which must be Maxima, given how often this issue’s writer talks about her on Twitter.

The story ends with a couple of great splash images, none better than Superman flying his bride to sunny Hawaii, in a spectacular image, which should have been this issue’s cover.

The next story, “Father’s Day” short though it is, is filled with still more great stuff. The opening page grabbed some headlines, perceived by many as a rejection of the over-protective Kevin Costner version of Jonathan Kent, as the TV Jonathan praises his son for saving a young boy, symmetrically from a bus disaster.

Grummett does a great job on the second page, with a glimpse at an unnamed Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman in their roles as Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein in All The President’s Men. While I normally eschew real world politics in these pages, the leader of the free world being brought to justice through journalism is a fitting inspiration for this generation’s Superman, no matter which party to which he belongs.

We get another Easter egg as the helicopter Superman rescues (in a great image—dig the shadows falling from his arm, and bent leg!) recalls the red one from the Lois rescue/meet-cute in the first Reeve film.

The final story in this issue is well-drawn throughout, as loathe as I am to see yet another evil Superman. The story not only hints at the now-revealed Magog as the big crossover villain for this comic series, but also indicates that (spoilers from last season here…) John Henry’s red sun missile didn’t actually kill the Kal-El of his and Nat’s Earth. [Max: Is it me or would this story have rocked if they’d gotten Jerry Ordway to ink it? I’m a big fan of Norm Rapmund but I feel like Ordway’s shades could have added a lot to the atmosphere here.]

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

It’s a cute callback to both Action Comics #1, and the first appearance of the Tyler Hoechlin Superman, that a green toy car is responsible for shutting down the press at the Daily Planet.

There’s some equal opportunity sex appeal, as both Clark, then Lois, then Clark, then Lois again are featured in a steamy shower conversation to move the plot along. I feel like a lesser story would only have Lois.

I wonder if Lobo’s comment about preferring Superman’s old outfit is a voodoo-doll like nod to fans like me, who miss the trunks on the otherwise perfect Hoechlin suit.

Superman & Lois is by far the best show on TV for my money, and my favourite part of the show is Lois’ journalism (indeed, the only thing lacking from the show is Clark-as-reporter, but you can’t have it all). So naturally, I love Lois in an Alias-like wig to get the scoop on the mayor’s dalliance with another triangle-era figure, Ugly Mannheim.

Plastino’s restaurant is of course a reference to longtime Superman artist, Al Plastino, perhaps best known specifically for his work on Supergirl, the character that birthed this TV show!

There’s an interesting symmetry with the Father’s Day story and the Controlled Burn story—the Clark Kent we know champions the meek reporters defending the world with holding the powerful to account, while the black-suited Superman of the alternate Earth still enjoys the support of the people, despite his growing authoritarianism, at least until he teams with his half-brother and destroys Metropolis.

The inverted newspapers with the cube “globe” are a wonderful and subtle nod to the Bizarro world storyline, even if “square” is misspelled on that second one.

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yoshikoooo · 3 years

Text

It's been awhile? I might spam fics for awhile, might post other fics about another content tho, anyways Have fun reading~💕

Tsumugi x Reader

"Bitter"

Your gaze fixated on the stage, where six actors stood, their smiles stretching wide as they bowed graciously, expressing their gratitude to the audience. Among them, the Winter Troupe shone brightest in your heart, holding a special place in Mankai.

As the final curtain descended, you made your way out to leave a token of appreciation for the actors. Your admiration particularly gravitated towards one man, his portrayal always captivating your senses. The way he delivered his lines held a certain magic, a tranquility that washed over you with its gentle kindness. Since the very first time you witnessed their performance in "Sympathy For The Angel," his acting had left an indelible mark on you, drawing you back to the theater time and again.

Suddenly The actors went out and greeted the fans as a way of fan service, You didn't bother to walk up close to the actors, you just watched the man as the way his dark blue hair bounce softly as he nods in a question given by a fan. He always had this soft and gentle eyes, that felt like it would calm a madman instantly but sometimes, He felt so mysterious that it piques your interests But You kind of like it, Imagining how you can get to know him more in other ways was euphoria for you, But sadly, Reality was harsh.

He doesn't know you, not a single thing about you. You've long accepted this truth, choosing to remain anonymous in your admiration for him. With a heavy sigh, you glanced at your watch, realizing it was time to depart.

Approaching the gift box, you saw the name "Tsukioka Tsumugi" printed neatly. A soft smile played on your lips as you dropped the bouquet of daffodils, a ritual of joy and happiness you faithfully upheld each time you attended their show.

Gazing at the name once more, a pang of bittersweet emotion swept over you.

'If only...'

but alas, it was a love destined to remain unspoken and unfulfilled.

Though you sat mere steps away from him during performances, he remained distant, a shining star in his own right, captivating your attention and stealing your soul with every graceful line he delivered. His acting prowess was unparalleled, a constant reminder of your place in the audience, worlds apart from him on stage.

With a bitter smile, you exited the theater, carrying the weight of unspoken longing and admiration in your heart.

__________________

"The show ended successfully!" declared the director, addressing the six gentlemen who were already donned in their casual attire.

"Fufu, I had fun," Azuma chimed in with a soft giggle.

"Umu, today's show was incredibly fun! To commemorate our victory, I shall express my gratitude through a poem-" Homare began, only to be abruptly cut off by Tasuku.

"No thanks, you can keep it for yourself," Tasuku interjected, sighing in annoyance.

"Oh my, poor you. Well, that is fine, as I shall continue it in the dorm instead," Homare declared, eliciting sighs of disbelief from the group.

"No, Homare, you're... too noisy... Zzz," Hisoka hissed before drifting off to sleep in the corner.

"I shall help with carrying Hisoka," Guy suggested with a soft smile adorning his face. Despite the cold winter air, the atmosphere among the group remained warm and congenial.

__________________

"Good work," Sakuya commended, offering a warm smile to the troupe as they finally reached the dorm.

"You guys were totes good out there!" Kazunari exclaimed, giving a thumbs up and displaying his phone which showcased the responses they had received for their show. "oh, Just in time, dinner is ready," Omi announced, placing the plates on the table.

"Whoa, today's dinner is pretty exhausting!" Citron suddenly exclaimed, eliciting confusion among the actors.

"This one is a little hard... Um... You mean extravagant," Tsuzuru corrected Citron with a sigh of disbelief. "Yes! that's it!" Citron said in response making some of the actors laugh, Their Manzai never failing anyone.

"I prepared some good wine. Let's all have a toast with the adults later," Sakyo announced, prompting a light giggle from Azuma.

"I'll bring out some zafran snacks that would go well with wine then," Guy added with a smile.

"A refined adult! Ahh~ I can't wait to become one!" Muku exclaimed from the back, lost in his daydreams once again.

"Ehh, you guys got plenty of gifts again this time," Yuki remarked as he checked out the bags they were all holding. It was evident that Tasuku received the most, as usual.

"I wish they wouldn't spend too much just to give us these gifts, though," Tasuku said, sighing deeply with a hint of concern in his voice.

"Ooh! A Kind Gentleman! Gotta take note of that!" Taichi said as he brought a pencil and a notebook out, only to get a weird look from tasuku.

"I just noticed, but every time Tsumugi-san performs, he always receives that bouquet," Sakuya suddenly pointed out, drawing everyone's attention to the bouquet of daffodils.

Tsumugi smiled gently at the mention.

"This flower is called daffodils, a bunch of it means happiness," Tsumugi explained, his voice carrying a warmth that enveloped the room. They all observed the tender gaze Tsumugi directed towards the bouquet.

Azuma, already comfortably settled on the couch, studied Tsumugi with a mischievous grin playing on his lips, intrigued by the subtle emotions dancing across his features.

"Fufu, do you perhaps know who gave it?" Azuma teased, shooting Tsumugi a playful glance.

"It was only just a glimpse, but she was quite a beauty. Although, sadly, I didn't get her name since she would always leave after placing the bouquet in the box," Tsumugi replied, his gaze returning to the bouquet you had given.

Everyone in the room turned their attention to Tsumugi, wearing expressions that clearly conveyed their silent thoughts: 'He's in love.' It was evident from the tender way he looked at the bouquet, a silent testament to the emotions swirling within him.

"Oya, That's too bad, It seems she doesn't leave her name on the card of bouquet too.." Homare chimed in as he looked at the bouquet closely in tsumugi's arms in which he nodded back.

' But today, I saw her smiling bitterly, I wonder if something happened..'

"Ne~ Tsumugi-san, is there another meaning of that flower?" Taichi inquired, his eyes sparkling with anticipation of a romantic interpretation.

As Tsumugi pondered, a gentle smile graced his lips.

"There's no romantic meaning to daffodils, but it also symbolizes eternal life and new beginnings," Tsumugi explained softly, reaching out to pat Taichi on the head, hoping to assuage any disappointment the young boy might feel.

"You really know lots about flowers eh.." Tenma said while he gave a smile "Well so is tenma kun at Bonsai." Tsumugi replied and flashed a smile.

"Ugh, the two botany buddies will continue with this conversation if we don't stop them now," Yuki interjected with a playful tone, eliciting laughter from everyone in the room. Despite the snow beginning to build up outside, a warm and cozy atmosphere enveloped them, fostering a sense of camaraderie and togetherness among the troupe.

Tsumugi's gaze drifted back to the beautiful bouquet once more, his thoughts swirling with a mixture of emotions.

'Did she know...? That daffodils also represent...'

'Unrequited love.'

In the end, the realization settled in, and the man couldn't help but give a bitter smile at the thought, acknowledging the silent message conveyed by the flowers.

End~

💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐

#A3 #a3 tsumugi #tsumugi x reader #A little bit of angst #I write for fun so don't mind me #Dramatic #flower language

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sweetchup · 3 years

Text

A Helping Hand 4: Ghosts of Past // Day 2

Type: Shalnark x reader

Au?: Savior Au

Word Count: 1,700+

Warnings: Trauma, Airplanes

Author Note: I hope people enjoy!! I planning on Part 3 coming out tomorrow but I’m struggling a little on the chapter and I have some Headcanons to get through so it might come out Sunday instead.

<—(Pt.4.1) / (Pt.4.3☀️)—>

A Helping Hand Masterlist

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

In the lane, snow is glistening

A beautiful sight

We're happy tonight

Walking in a winter wonderland…

“Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for flying with Amazon Aircrafts this afternoon. We will be landing in York New in about 5 minutes. If you would please, buckle up your—“

Suddenly as the Flight Attendant was announcing your descent, you feel your shoulder being tapped at.

“In a second…” You murmur out, too absorbed in the book you were reading. You were hoping to finish this last chapter before you got off the plane but as you feel another nudge at your shoulder, it is now highly unlikely you will.

“What do you— Shal!” You gasped out, quickly shutting your book with a thud once you saw what he was doing. “You can’t take Chloe out of her crate on the aircraft!”

“But (Y/nnnnn),” Shalnark whines out, cradling Chloe closer to him so you couldn’t take her away, “I just want her to watch the aircraft landing with me.”

“Shal. You can’t be serious.” You deadpanned at him. You can’t believe Shalnark has only known this cat for less than a day and he is already so attached to her. Hell, he even whined for a whole hour when you thought about allowing a friend to babysit Chloe instead of bringing her on the trip.

“Fine. Fine. Just don’t get us caught please?” You sighed out, giving up on convincing the childish man next to you.

“Thank you (y/n)!” Shalnark shouts out gleefully, “By the way, you should watch the landing with us. York New City is amazing at sunrise.”

“Uh…” You look down awkwardly at the middle seat—currently holding Chloe’s crate—in between you two. “There’s not much room— oof!”

Suddenly, before you can even finish your sentence, Shalnark grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. For a man that is injured, he sure had amazing strength. Then again, he was able to break your hand the first time you two met when he was in a way worse condition.

“(Y/n) Are you listening?” Shalnark calls out to you, his voice right next to your ear surprising you.

“Uh. N-no sorry,” You choked out. Your head feeling like it was spinning once you noticed that you were basically being cradled to his side; With one hand pressed against the small of your back to keep you still.

“I was saying look at the clouds. They are so pink, they almost look like cotton candy.” Shalnark murmurs out, his minty breath fanning at your face. However, even though you should probably look at the clouds like Shalnark said, you can’t bring yourself to look. Your attention was trapped on Shalnark’s piercing aquamarine blue eyes that were staring down at you. Honestly, in your opinion, getting to see his eyes up so close was much better than any natural view that he could show you. “(Y/n)...?”

Startled by his sudden call, you feel yourself snap out of the trance you were in.

“O-oh yeah they are.” You stutter out turning your attention away from Shalnark. Also missing how he was leaning in towards you as you pull away.

That would prove to be the longest aircraft descendent of both of yours entire life.

—.—.—.—.—.—

“Ah finally here!” You yell out, dropping your bags down on the hotel room floor and flopping onto the bed. You hear Shalnark chuckle at your silliness before dropping his bags as well.

At the sound of his racing feet, you let out a yelp in surprise as you see him jump at you. His arms and legs bent so he doesn’t land on top of you and crush you as he falls.

“Shal!” You yell out, slapping his chest playfully. “You shouldn’t do that sort of thing. Especially with those injuries.”

“Sorry Doc.” Shalnark teases out before flopping over next to you, causing you to giggle as the bed springs up and down. As you stare up at the ceiling, you think how you were just glad Shalnark was getting back to his old self again. Getting out of that stuffy hospital definitely helped him. Though…

You turn your head to look at Shalnark. A question still on your mind ever since late last night when he spontaneously suggested this trip.

“Hey Shal.”

“Yeah?”

The bed squeaks underneath you as you shift your body, now laying on your side to look at him. “Why did you want to go to York New of all places?”

There is a silent pause that drifts through the air. You watch as Shalnark lifts himself up from the bed to lean back on his elbows, seeming to think about what to answer.

“I…” Shalnark’s words seem to die in his throat. It takes him a couple of seconds before he can start again, “It just felt right coming here… It was the final place the troupe went before everything went to shit.”

As you look up at Shalnark, his face has turned away from your gaze, making you unable to read his expression. Carefully, you shift closer to him; offering him some comfort as you wrap a single arm over his elevated waist.

As you feel his larger hand come over to cover your own, his thumb caressing at your knuckles in a silent reassurance that he was okay, you couldn’t help but wonder what you would uncover about Shalnark on this trip. Likely a side you’ve never seen before.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

“Are you sure Chloe is going to be okay being left alone in the hotel room?” You ask Shalnark for the fifteenth time since you've left the hotel. Your eyes looking around at the many neon signs that lit up the night sky as you two walked through the bustling streets of York New.

“Positive. … Ah! Here it is,” Shalnark calls out, causing you to turn to look at the place he had taken you.

“The York New Auction Hall?” You mutter out confused,

looking at the elegant building in front of you. Why had Shalnark taken you here of all places? You understood he was a thief and all but…

“Shal.” You whispered to the male next to you as he was typing something into his phone. “You do realize I’m not going to steal anything on this trip, right?”

Shalnark looks up from his phone to give you an amused look; slightly chuckling to himself before grabbing your hand and dragging you into the building with him. All the while getting confused looks by the guest inside as you enter; all of whom wore formal outfits that looked like they cost more than your entire fortune.

“Shal—“ You are stopped short of completing what you are saying as, all of a sudden, two ladys hook their arms around yours and drag you off somewhere. “Woah! Hey!”

You look at Shalnark for help but he only gives you a grin before following two other gentlemen nearby.

After a couple of minutes of being dragged, you are finally placed into a room, stumbling slightly over your feet as you enter. As you look around the room, you find it very hard to see from how dark it is. However, before you can even straighten yourself out and take a closer look, you feel a pair of hands grab at your shirt and yank it over your head.

“H-hey I—“ You are cut off yet again as you feel another pair of hands unzip your pants. After a lot more yelps of surprise from your end and touching from the strangers, you are suddenly let go and pushed out of the room. “H-hey wait I don’t have any clothes… on…”

You don’t finish your sentence as you look agape at the reflection in front of you. Hesitantly, you turn yourself around and do a twirl, slowly taking in yourself. Dressed in a sparkling velvet dress with your makeup lightly done; You could hardly recognize yourself.

“Oh wow.”

And, it seemed as though you weren’t the only one impressed by your own beauty.

Quickly turning yourself at the sudden voice, you see Shalnark standing there; dressed in a classic black suit. With his hair lightly gelled back—except for a couple of blonde strands that couldn’t seem to stay put—you could get a clear look at the red blush that covered his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“U-uh.. umm..” Shalnark stumbles over his words for a couple of minutes as he stares at you before suddenly getting a hold of himself and clearing his throat, “H-here.”

Swiftly, Shalnark pulls out a bouquet of red roses behind his back and extends them out to you. As you take the flowers from his hold, your fingers ever so slightly graze his, causing his blush to only worsen.

“Shal—“ “(Y/n)—“

You both paused for a second, staring at each other owlishly before trying again.

“You first—“ “You first—“

This time you can’t hold back the giggle that escapes from your lips, “You first, Shal.”

Shalnark quickly nods his head at your words, ever so slightly fidgeting with his tie as he suddenly feels as if it was strangling him. With blood rushing to his ears and a nervousness he hasn’t experienced since he was a kid, Shalnark takes a shaky deep breath.

“You don’t have to answer me right now. I don’t actually expect you to. I J-just…” Shalnark lets out a sigh, frustrated with how nervous he suddenly was. “Just… let me have you for tonight.”

“Only for tonight?” You questioned out loud, bashfully playing with the petals of one of the roses as you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Well, I’ve never felt this way about anyone else so I wanna do it right.” Shalnark rubs the back of his neck as he looks away, “... Not too fast, no pressure…”

Lightly, you stuff your face into the flowers to hold back the grin that has etched its way onto your face as Shalnark encases his hand in yours. Even though you have held his hand many times before, this time feels different.

“...just going with what happens.”

Taglist: @meromelodi, @quartetstarheaven , @yumezai, @lvndrhwis, @writtenappreciation, @jojo-sinner, @pastelbear12, @aly-kurta, @bbunnycore , @feifood, @akobere7u7, @aleksa784

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #shalnark #shalnark x reader #shalnark ryuseih #a helping hand

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kyoonqs · 4 years

Text

iluso amor ; first part.

↬ summary: Cora has always considered herself elusive, easy to bore and adventurous to the last fiber of her body. One day for no apparent reason, she appears in front of the manager of a globetrotting circus passing through the city where she is temporarily staying to fill her life with magic. Baekhyun, as serious as he is handsome, has no intention of playing a role other than on the main canvas of the circus. He decides to separate Cora from her life of fantasies created by her travels and sets out to show her reality as raw and cruel as he knows it. Or so he believes.

Will time run out too quickly before love and passion devour him and he decides to risk everything for a love that lasts… Forever?

↬ pairing: baekhyun x cora fem!reader.

↬ circus!au ; illusionist!baek x hitchhiker!oc ; strangers to lovers au!

↬ genre: fluff ; romance ; angst ; drama.

↬ length: 2.8 k words.

↬ tag list: @changshapatrol @spacebyuns @fluffyhunnie @soos-goddess @hoho-cham @shadoukiti @sunbyun21 @mangobaek @suhotly @pororodks @bbhbae

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know!

↬ masterlist.

↬ author’s note: this is my first time writing a series, hope you enjoy it and any feedback will be appreciated. thanks for reading! ♡

Vanilla, caramel and butter scents invaded her nostrils the moment she stepped on the re-centering and she reminded herself that from now on she should get used to the smell due to her timely madness. Beyond her view, occasionally blocked by some old trucks, a red and yellowish-white circus tent loomed along with several smaller tents and a host of caravans. The largest tent, dotted with gold stars, had a large, deep blue sign bearing the name of the circus and its owner. In addition to a few tethered horses, Cora saw a number of huge cages with animals and all kinds of unsavory people, including some pretty dirty men, most of them encrusted with mud and rust.

She was beginning to regret the moment when she had ripped the worn out brochure from the lamppost and the idea of joining the circus scene rose out of boredom. Yes, that was the case, curiosity had killed the cat and she could not contain herself that late afternoon when she had driven her bicycle past the front of the tents and the multicolored costumes of the artists had simultaneously caught her eye. But now it was not like that, the moment she advanced towards the train car where she was to present herself for the position, everyone stopped what they were doing and fixed their eyes on her. Without thinking too much, she stepped forward steadily as her sneakers sank into the sandy ground and she staggering as she stared at the ticket booth where the same brochure she was carrying was presented.

Away from the scrutinizing stares that once haunted her, she took the steps of the carriage two at a time and froze when she saw him inside. He had hair as dark as molten chocolate and chiseled features that would make his face look too beautiful if it weren't for the firm jaw and menacing frown. Men who possessed that brutal appeal had always attracted her but at that moment she would have chosen someone less intimidating to interview her. She tried to calm herself by reminding herself that she would not have to spend more than a couple of hours with him and that it would all be over as soon as she explained clearly why she was applying for the job, which she was still completely unaware of.

She cleared her throat and began with her introduction, first name, last name, place of birth, previous jobs and reason why she was there - from the latter she omitted boredom as a possible factor. The man in question did not give her a single glance and, of course, did not speak a word. She stared straight ahead, the unyielding lines of that hard profile making her skin tingle.

–“I, I want to learn about the trade...” She swallowed.

–“I'm really interested in the job, whatever it is...” She swallowed again.

–“Bastard.”

Until the man in front of her turned his head and looked at her, she didn't realize what she had said. He arched a dark brow with mild curiosity, as if he wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Her impulsiveness took control and she felt her lips tremble, for it was clear that they didn't share her problems in restraining her inappropriate thoughts.

The metal legs of the chair where he was sitting screeched against the hard floor of the wagon. He stood up, ironed the wrinkles of his pants with his hands and looking into her eyes for the first time, he said in a stern and inflexible voice:

–“You are hired. Meet me after the last show behind the main tent.” And without further ado, he passed her by without giving any other explanation.

She could barely suppress a sigh. She directed a furtive glance at the boy, still nameless and wondered what she had gotten into but an irrelevant part of her was dying for new adventures and without a doubt, he would be the greatest from that precise moment.

–“Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin! Come closer everyone!”

The man who made the announcement was the same man who was encouraging people to buy tickets the day the circus had arrived in town, although now he was wearing a red master of ceremonies jacket. At that moment Cora appeared before the young man in the carriage, leading a black horse by the reins with one hand. It was then that she realized that he was not only the manager of the circus but also one of its performers.

He was dressed in a velvet jacket, a velvet vest with nothing underneath and black trousers tucked into high leather boots that snuggled over his calves. A jewel-encrusted band of all colors surrounded his torso accompanied by fine iridescent chains and some ribbons of razo that fell from his pocket. He also carried a rolled whip hanging from one shoulder. Curious about the skills he would display in the arena –she had gotten one of the dancers to tell her when they would leave and to her surprise it would be the next morning– she followed the man with his eyes. At that moment he saw her. The decision she had made had been too recent to seek a way out and she still did not feel comfortable talking to him. Cora tucked her hair nervously behind her ear and refuse to take her gaze from the horse following him when he began to walk towards her.

–“There are unsavory people hanging around the circus. Until you know how everything goes, stay where the rest of the audience is, always” he told her as he adjusted some rings on his slender fingers.

–“Understood.” She responded, since she had just promised herself that she was going to put forth her best effort and not get carried away by first impressions that day.

–“Come in and take a look at the show.” His tone was firm, despite the fact that she was already heading back to where she was previously.

–“Wait! What is your name!?” She asked hastily, not realizing that perhaps she had sounded somewhat desperate.

He glanced at her over his shoulder with the corner of his mouth slightly curved. “Baekhyun!” He said, chuckling, and with that he returned to his place in line with the rest of the artists.

She was still feeling hot as she circled the crowd and entered the tent through the back entrance. She found a free spot in the stands. They were weathered white-painted planks of wood, hard and narrow, with nowhere else to rest one’s feet but on the seat of the spectators in the row below. But she quickly set aside her feelins of discomfort the awkwardness when the lights dimmed, a drum roll crescendoed and a spotlight illuminated the emcee on center court.

–“Welcome to the happiest circus in Valencia, welcome to Gran Fele Circus!”

The music exploded, played by a band consisting of two musicians with drums, a synthesizer, and a consola. A lively version of New York, New York began to play and a white horse entered in the arena with a girl who carried a flag with the name of the circus. The other artists followed, carrying colorful banners, smiling and waving to the crowd.

It was the troupe of acrobats that caught Cora's attention; three handsome men and a beautiful woman –whom she identified as the dancer who had helped her earlier– named Laia, dressed in gold sequins, shiny leggings and thick makeup. They were followed by a group of horsemen, clowns, jugglers, and trained dogs.

Baekhyun entered the arena alone, riding his fierce horse, and unlike the other artists, he didn’t wave his hands or smile. As he circled the track, he seemed such a distant and mysterious being. He was no stranger to the presence of the people, but somehow he remained isolated and gave a strange dignity to the colorful display.

As the show progressed, Cora was amazed at such talent.

Suddenly, the lights went out and the music died away. A blue spotlight illuminated the master of ceremonies, the only one occupying the dark center court. His voice turned dramatically low and a haunting, folk melody began to play in the background.

–“How many times have we wondered if we were crazy? How many times did someone make us doubt our actions? How many times has someone come before us with the idea of changing our thinking? Sanity makes us useless, many times it is better to be crazy. Life is made for taking risks and if you don't think so, let the next person convince you otherwise...before time runs out.”

The lights began to gradually increase in intensity, the music resounded and Baekhyun entered the middle of a path that seemed illuminated by small streetlights, thin beams of light that danced around him and that were reflected in the small sequins of his suit. With indisputable ease, he untangled the whip dangling from a waistband and sliced through the air in all directions with it. Small particles, like glitter, floated in the air suspended around him. He performed a series of skillfully executed feats that were both daring and dramatic. They had brought a few accessories onto the floor during the emcee's presentation: ribbon targets, fluorescent balloons, chandeliers, and more. Circling the runway, he popped the balloons one by one, and a bright red explosion, like drops of blood, shot through the air with each snap of the whip.

The lights dimmed until only he was illuminated by the spotlight, and he grabbed a second whip and made them pop and dance in all directions with such masculine grace, Cora gasped. The dance was increasing, with faster and faster movements and, as if by magic, the two whips became one. With a powerful twist of his arm, Baekhyun lifted him above his head to set him off in flames. The audience gasped, the lights went out, and the flaming whip danced wildly through the darkness. When the lights came on again, he had vanished.

–“What are you doing here? Hasn't anyone taken you to the motorhome yet?”

Cora roused herself, her eyes snapping open. Looking up, she saw the same deep brown eyes plaguing since afternoon that day. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was but then everything came to mind: the circus, the manager, the show, his whip.

She suddenly became aware of Baekhyun's hands on her shoulders, it was the only thing that had kept her from falling off the old stool that she had been seated on while waiting for him. She had decided to wait there since it was the most illuminated area around the tent, next to government mandated public toilets where there was still a queue to pass them.

She shifted uneasily under his hands and tried to regain her balance with the idea that he would release her.

–“Could you tell me what time it is? I've lost track of it waiting here for you.”

–“It's about 30 minutes to midnight,” Baekhyun put his hands in the pockets of his coat. Instead of the suit he donned for the show, he wore jeans ripped at the knees and a white t-shirt printed with the word ‘Supreme’ in terms of design. Despite the casual attire he didn’t look any less intimidating.

–“Look dulzura, you will have to get used to my presence, since I will be your guide and housemate from now on”. It wasn’t as if Cora hadn’t tried to do it before, in fact she had been attracted to him the moment she met him, only his personality –and now a whip– had slowed her down. He, at her lack of response, muttered something under his breath and after a sigh, spoke again.

–“Come on dulzura, I'll show you where you'll sleep for the next few months.” He turned and left at a fast pace to where the group of caravans were together, paying little attention to the fact that she had luggage that weighed a ton, the consequence of her idea to buy a memorable garment from each city she had visited until now.

–“Wait!” Her scream had an edge of hysteria, but he seemed not to hear it as he continued walking toward the line of caravans. She rubbed the sole of her sneakers across the ruff, gathering some on the toe of it as she dragged her foot. With a gasp, Cora started walking again. Baekhyun approached two vehicles that were parked next to each other. The closest one was a modern white caravan, it looked spacious inside and on its roof you could see a satellite dish. Next to it was another caravan, dented and rusty that appeared to have been silver previously. She begged to herself that it was the space caravan and not the other.

He stood in front of the ugly rusty trailer, opened the door, and disappeared inside. Cora grunted but conceded since she had stayed in worse places. Perhaps the inside wasn’t as hideous as it looked on the outside. Baekhyun reappeared at the door a moment later and watched as she approached fighting with her backpack towards him. When she finally reached the metal step, he offered her a cynical smile.

–“Home, sweet home, dulzura. Come in and settle”.

Cora had always found the Spanish language something to delight in but this was the third time the nickname had come out of his mouth directed at her and she could swear that the way the word rolled on his tongue and briefly hissed before pronouncing the syllable "zu", surely it was close to the song of the angels that received you when you entered paradise.

She sniffed and climbed the four steps that separated her and...the interior was much worse than the outside. Narrow, messy, it smelled musty and old, with a hint of mothball. In front of her was a miniature kitchen, the countertop metal, it had spots with peeling paint. To the right of the kitchen, the faded upholstery of the small sofa was barely visible under a pile of books, newspapers, and men's clothing. In addition, she saw an old, medium-sized refrigerator, wooden cabinets, and a bed with rumpled sheets.

Baekhyun stared at her blankly, genuinely doubting whether she had noticed.

–“It is a small caravan as you can see, but it is comfortable and cozy in the cold. It's all there is and all I have.”

The bed took up most of the back of the caravan, nothing separated it from the rest of the "rooms", the only thing that seemed to be secluded was the bathroom –which she would make sure to explore as soon as she had the chance. On the sheets there were tangled clothes, a towel, and something she couldn't make out from where she was standing.

–“I think I'll sleep on the couch, it would be better…”

He gazed absently at the tip of his foot, then looked up. She stared into those dark eyes –which depending on the light could be paler or even more blackened– and she felt a chill run down her spine, followed by another strange sensation that she did not want to examine further.

He slowly raised his hand, adjusting a lock of hair that had been tousled while she was struggling with her backpack, Cora froze and pursed her lips as she felt the softness of his thumb brush the hollow under her ear with something that it seemed like a caress.

–“Do whatever you want, dulzura. I have to go, I still have things to do.”

Cora gasped when she realized she should have felt danger but her skin had taken the brush of his thumb with pleasure. She felt Baekhyun's insolent hand move away from her hair as he pulled away from her, even though he had left something light on the trailing of her ear. The trailer door swung on its hinges. Baekhyun looked at her and stepped out of it, dropping his gaze from her face to a nonexistent point. Once he was out of sight, she reached for the object that was barely tickling her cheekbone and held the geranium between her fingers with a furtive smile on her face.

↬ This is all for this chapter, I promise to try to write more in the following parts. I will try to update every Saturday. Honorable mention: Oliv (@changshapatrol) without her this story would be nothing, thank you for your patience and trust in me. I love you, a lots ♡

#baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #baekhyun x oc #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun serie #baekhyun series #baekhyun au #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo scenario #exo scenarios #exo au #iluso amor

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hostess-of-horror · 3 years

Text

Phantom X Peach (again)

Me: "Alright, let's get right back into my current project!"

[sees posts of Phantom and Princess Peach]

My Brain:

Me: *defeated sigh* *clicks Create New Post*

Welp, here we are again! Another Phantom X Peach story! I can't help myself, I absolutely adore this ship. 💜

Since the last story was hurt/comfort themed, I figured I'd continue this trope by switching the roles! Both Princess Peach and Phantom have their bad days, and this time it's poor Phantom.😔

For @salamifuposey, @kindpopstar, @strawbunniiee and everyone else who wants to read it!

[Content Includes: Themes of Depression and Anxiety and Suggestive Flirting (no smut!)]

---

It was a slow day at the Mushroom Kingdom. Nothing special was happening. At least there were no surprise kidnappings from Bowser or any other signs of danger. Princess Peach, not wanting to sit around all day, decided to take a walk outside. She ensured the people within her castle that she will be safe and will be only admiring the land. Of course, this was partially true. She will be safe, but not while within her own kingdom. Instead, Peach followed the path that led all the way to Spooky Trails. When she arrived at Phantom's theater, she was greeted by a familiar face.

The red-haired woman at the masquerade. The peasant woman from that very night.

---

Peach: "Hello?"

[The red-haired woman notices Peach, gives her a warm smile, and waves.]

????: "Good afternoon, your highness. I wasn't expecting you to come over. My name is Salome. I didn't get to properly introduce myself to you last time we met."

Peach: "It's nice to meet you, Salome." *bows* "May I ask if Phantom is inside?"

Salome: "Yes, he is. In fact, I'm so glad you came! Our master has become terribly upset all of a sudden."

Peach: "Oh no! What happened to him? Is he alright?"

Salome: "I'm not exactly sure. He has had these moments before, but almost none of us know exactly how to completely help him out. Our master was last seen entering into his boudoir. He didn't say a word to any of us. I don't believe he is physically ill, but it is some sort of sickness. Perhaps you can help him? No, wait - I shouldn't do that to a guest, especially one that's royalty."

Peach: "No. No need to apologize. If Phantom is distressed, then I'll do my best to help him feel better."

Salome: "Ah, you're so kind, Princess. Just like how he describes you."

[Salome invites Peach into the theater, entering down into the underground lair where Phantom and his theater troupe reside. Once again, Peach is inside the large and luxurious hallways of the lair, this time going down to Phantom's Boudoir. The door to this room is just as massive as the Ballroom entrance. Salome knocks.]

Phantom: *from behind the door* "Leave me be!"

Salome: "Master, is there something wrong?"

Phantom: "I'll be fine... I just need some peace and quiet."

[Peach approaches the door and knocks gently.]

Peach: "Phantom? It's me. Salome told me what happened... are you sure you're okay?"

Phantom: "Princess?"

[A moment of silence.]

Phantom: "Salome, if you don't mind, would you kindly let the Princess in? I want to see her in private."

Salome: "Yes, Master."

[Salome pushes the door just slightly, so that Peach can enter the Boudoir. The door closes behind and Peach is inside the room. The Boudoir is just as beautiful as the rest of the lair. Lavish decorations fill the walls, from portraits to curtains to ornamental decals. A multitude of candles light the darkness, all of them leading up to a massive pile of pillows and blankets. There lying in this pile is Phantom, his head placed in between his crossed arms. His cobalt blue coat and red vest are gone. The only thing he’s wearing is his ivory poet blouse, slightly unbuttoned, revealing his shoulder and upper chest. Peach couldn’t help but stare. She has never seen Phantom without his coat and vest before. As she approaches him, Phantom lifts his head to look at his guest, revealing his weary, tear-stained eyes. Peach stops. She recognizes those red eyes from the first night they reunited.]

Phantom: “Ah, my love... Do forgive my appearance. I should have freshened up a bit before you came in.” *softly chuckles*

Peach: “Phantom, what’s wrong?”

[Phantom slowly rises from his position. Peach walks up to him, reaching out for his cheek.]

Peach: “Have you been crying?”

Phantom: *takes a deep breath* “Oh, just a little bit, that’s all...”

[Peach awaits his answer. Phantom looks into her eyes, taking another deep breath.]

Phantom: “... I had another breakdown. I was outside before you came here, to get some fresh air. This place gets stuffy once you’ve spent many days inside. I thought maybe I could venture outside Spooky Trails for inspiration. But instead, I found... memories.”

Peach: “Memories?”

Phantom: “Reminders, more like it. They mock me, even after all this time. They appear in my mind every now and then, but... this time was worse than before.”

Peach: “Tell me about them.”

[Lifting her arms up, inviting Phantom to come into her arms, Peach gives him a pitiful expression. Phantom slowly crawls, wrapping his arms around her and placing his head onto her lap.]

Phantom: “These memories... they remind me of my loneliness. My strangeness. How I was - is - met with rejection by my fellow Rabbids. When I was outside, I found a few Rabbids playing, mindlessly causing havoc as usual. I could do the same, but in the end, I found such activities to be senseless. I find no real purpose doing those things. But, as I was watching them, I could not help but yearn for such a connection. Yes, I have my theater troupe, but...”

[Phantom pauses. He looks up at Peach.]

Phantom: “Oh, I don’t believe I’ve told you about them.”

Peach: “What about them?”

Phantom: “They are not real, exactly. I made them.”

Peach: “Wait... you made these people?”

Phantom: “Yes. Along with making masterpieces, I study magic on the side. Since the... battle years ago, I discovered that I have more powers than I initially thought. I guess it makes sense, considering that I am not only part Rabbid, I am also part Boo.”

Peach: “Hmmm... Boos do have many magical abilities, but it varies from each individual Boo. I learned about them when I was a little girl. I agree, it does make sense.”

Phantom: “Dolores, Stefan, Natasha and Ophelia, Salome... all of them are not real. They’re actually mannequins - puppets controlled by my magic.”

Peach: “So my eyes weren’t deceiving me back then! I was going to ask you after that masquerade performance, but... well...” *blushes*

Phantom: *lifts one eyebrow* “Hehe... but you were overwhelmed?” *caresses her cheek down to her chin* “With passion?”

[Peach’s face becomes even redder. Phantom softly laughs at her bashfulness.]

Phantom: “You are so precious! Ah... I could just kiss you!”

[Suddenly, Peach is pulled into Phantom’s embrace, her lips being locked into his. She melts, sinking deeper into his kiss. Then Phantom rolls over, landing on top of her. He finally stops, taking a moment for both of them to catch their breath.]

Phantom: “My apologizes... I... got carried away.”

Peach: “I see you’re feeling much better.”

Phantom: “I am.”

Peach: “Phantom...” *holding his face close to her* “You are not alone. You may be different, but I would not say you’re ‘strange.’ ‘Unique’ would be a better term. Others may not understand you, but I do. I understand you, even if there’s plenty of things I haven’t learned about you yet, Like your magic. In fact, if they give you a chance, I believe you would be accepted outside Spooky Trails.”

Phantom: “....”

Peach: “What you call ‘strangeness’ is what I call ‘wonderful.’ Amazing... Alluring... Beguiling... Captivating... Enchanting.”

Phantom: “Ah, Princess! Now you’re making me blush! That is supposed to be my job!”

[Peach laughs, a huge smile across her face.]

Peach: “Don’t you know? I hold magic abilities as well! I can make even the most powerful gentlemen fall to their knees.”

Phantom: “Oh?”

Peach: “Yes, and I just did.”

Phantom: “Well, how can I disagree? How can I be so powerful when you make me so weak?”

[They lock themselves into a passionate kiss again.]

#phantom of the bwahpera #phantom #tom phan #Phantom x Peach #Princess Peach #mario rabbids kingdom battle #mario rabbids #Mario +Rabbids kingdom battle #OTP #ship #my writing

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emilycollins00 · 4 years

Note

omg it's now open!! can i ask for the tenma and izumi's sister street act pretty please? hehe uwu thank you very much!

Wish I could hug you so bad love, I’m so sorry this one took so long!

I’ll be honest, I had for a long time an idea but I just wasn’t feeling it, didn’t like it. So I waited to get some other ideas and honestly I’m much happier with this version! Hope you like it too.

Note this is another short of the Izumi’s sister!reader Series. I know for sure it will be a mess if I start to link each previous post, so I will put the link to my Masterlist HERE and if anyone wants, you can look for the previous parts there.

Once again, thank you so much for your patience 💕 Please enjoy!

Izumi’s little sister! Reader. Pt. 4. Street act and thoughts

“Wait, you mean THAT'S why everyone keeps Masumi from talking to me?”

Izumi laughed awkwardly inside her coat, small clouds coming out of her mouth due to the cold. “It's fine, Y/N. He’s a good kid and most of the time it only gets a bit weird.”

“Most of the time?”

“Anyway!" Izumi clapped her hands and looked at you with a big grin. "I'm so excited you are staying tonight. We should have done this sooner!"

You raised your eyebrows. It was as clear as day she was trying to get out of the conversation. Sighing, you decided to humor her and let it aside for now. “Are you sure it’s fine though? You said the winter troupe was rehearsing for the upcoming perf-”

“Of course it’s fine! Everyone was delighted when I told them you were coming,” she insisted as you both crossed the Veludo district. “Besides, thanks to you we’ll even get to have curry sooner than I counted for!" as she lifted some bags, you couldn’t help but laugh at her expression.

“You look more excited about the spices and ingredients I brought than me staying over, you know”

“Hey! Not true" Izumi pushed you lightly with her hips, making stumble and giggle. You had been sceptic, but it felt nice having some sibling quality-time with your sister again.

A few minutes later, you two finally arrived at the dorm’s entrance. Izumi took out the key to enter when someone slammed the door so loud you even let out a shrill screech.

“Yes! Yes, I am deeply sorry!” you blinked with a mixture of worry and wonder at the manager of Mankai talking on the phone feeling a deja vu. How could someone bow so fast while moving around? “Of course! Yes, I'm already on my way!"

“Matsukawa-san?!” Izumi called out worriedly, but he was already out of her reach. The man did seem to hear her though, turning slightly but not stopping.

“Everything’s fine, director! Please don’t worry, I’ll make sure…!”

Neither of you got to hear the end of the sentence, the silhouette of the man getting smaller and smaller. You saw your sister looking at the distance with a tired expression “You don’t look surprised”

Izumi shook her head at your comment, pulling the door knock and allowing you to enter “If I had to question everything that happens around here I... Anyway, let's-“

“Here comes the tour guide! Here comes so don’t move another step!”

She pressed the bridge of her nose.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Ah, welcome back you two,” you heard Omi’s voice coming from the kitchen as Izumi opened the lounge door with you behind. “You arrived just in time. I’m finishing some scones.”

“Omi-kun, did Matsukawa-san say…”

“Y/N-pi!” Kazunari’s voice vibrated from the living room’s couches. “Come here, we missed you! I’m sure you’re looking as bomb as always though!”

“Took you long enough, Wild Currian Performer.”

Tenma turned to you as well to talk but stopped halfway. “What the hell.”

Looking up, you were thinking the same. Kamekichi had yet to move from your head “Uh, thank you for… bringing me inside.”

The bird flapped its wings vigorously. “Of course, took you long enough! I am the tour guide!” after that, he took fly and left.

You stared at the hallway visibly confused. What was up with this dorm.

“Wait, was he waiting at the entrance all this time?” a blond man with a phone frowned from the couch. “No wonder I couldn’t find him to bring me- shit, advertisements,” he groaned, glancing at you and then turning his attention back to the screen. “Anyway, nice to meet you in person, Y/N-san. Although Citron and Sakuya talk so much about you I feel like I was there the first time.”

“Uh… thanks?”

As if summoned, the spring leader popped his head into the room “I heard the door, did- Y/N-san! Welcome back, I’m so happy you could come to visit us again!”

You smiled at the boy.

“Okay everyone, help yourselves, there’s more if you want.” Omi walked towards the table and left the plate of scones in the middle, allowing everyone to grab a piece.

You took one, humming delightedly at the sweet flavor. The autumn member chuckled “Would you like anything special for tonight’s dinner, Y/N?”

“Ah, we already covered that, Omi-kun! Y/N brought spices from home, this curry will feel so nostalgic!”

All the actors in the room flinched.

“I see…”

“F in the chat. Why am I not surprised” Itaru mused to himself.

“I-I am sure it’s really good…!”

“You two really are family uh…no, wait!” Tenma shook his head. “Forget about curry!”

“Hey! What’s with everyone dissing curry?” you frowned as you cleaned the rest of the crumbs from the scone, raising your eyes to everyone in the room.

“That’s not what I mean” he rubbed his forehead. You and director were too alike. At your confused stare, he pointed at you indignant “You owe me a street act, remember?”

“Ah, that!” taking another scone and biting it, you nodded. You hadn’t really done street acts before, but you would lie if you said you weren’t interested. “Sure, if you still want?”

“You bet I do.”

He had heard Taichi and Juza commenting on your acting during that autumn rehearsal too- there was no way he would pass the opportunity to test it himself.

“U-um!” Sakuya stood up, his eyes shining “If you are going out to do a street act, I’d like to join too!”

You tilted your head at the boy, curious why he seemed so eager. Didn’t they usually do acts outside?

“All right then, let’s do this.”

Tenma smirked walking towards the door, looking somewhat excited too. Well, they wouldn’t be living in a theatre dorm if they didn’t enjoy acting after all, you concluded shrugging it off.

“GG guys.”

“Tenten, do your best!”

“Yeah, try not to embarrass yourself, hack.”

“What does that mean?!”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

By the time you all three walked out of the dorm, jackets and everything on, the sun had started to set up. You shivered. Maybe you should have brought more clothes.

“Was the winter troupe in rehearsals?” you turned to the troupe leaders walking alongside you “Izumi told me they are doing a mystery play of some kind.”

“Yeah, Hisoka-san is the lead and whenever he’s not sleeping he’s pretty good… so they’ve been going all out.”

Sakuya agreed at Tenma’s statement “I’m excited to see them perform!”

As you all continued sharing some light talk, you arrived at Veludo. Looking around, one could see winter was almost there. There weren’t many kids around, just adults and teens returning home walking faster than usual given the time and cold weather.

A bit later, you finally decided to stop on a roundabout next to a fountain to perform.

“What do you guys usually do?”

“We normally just pick a theme and go along with it!” the spring member answered smiling while Tenma stretched. “Do you have anything you’d like to do, Y/N-san?”

You looked around humming. You weren’t usually given the freedom to choose so nothing really came to mind except… “How about doing something similar to the winter troupe? There are not many people around, but maybe we can engage them.”

Sakuya might as well have started jumping.

“A winter-like street act sounds perfect! I don’t think I’ve ever done something similar to what they do. What do you think, Tenma-kun?”

“Not bad. Let’s go with mystery for our theme.”

“Wait, I know I just said that but if the point of a mystery is to solve it, shouldn’t we plan how to-”

Ignoring you, Tenma walked to the middle of the road and turned to you and Sakuya knowingly. His eyes shone with expectations.

You frowned confused still. None of you hadn’t decided anything, was he really-

“You can’t be serious!” Tenma’s tone of voice changed, cutting through the somewhat calm street like a knife. You also noticed his whole demeanour turning hostile, making people look his way. "I have better things to do than wait here to be murdered!”

Even faster than you had anticipated, Sakuya ran to him. "P-please wait, uncle Miles! I won’t move from here until I know who killed my brother. I’m sure the detective must have a reason for having us stay here!"

“Oh?”

“What’s this, a play?”

“Hey, these guys are from Mankai!”

As expected, people stopped noticing the performance.

You felt a thrill in your stomach, engines already turning inside your head. So you had indirectly gotten the part of the detective and therefore in charge of being the one to solve it uh.

Walking slowly, building anticipation, you placed yourself in front of them, blocking out the noise.

Tenma and Sakuya were awaiting, as well as the crowd surrounding you now and it was a strange feeling, if you were honest. Who knew what their next sentences would be after you spoke? You had no idea what could happen, and somehow, that made you smile. This really was a street act.

And so, you chuckled dryly but with elegance “I can assure you, gentlemen, this won't be a problem.”

She’s good. "HA!” Tenma crossed his arms, looking grim “Bet this is just another plot, typical of Marshall and his-”

“Uncle, please!”

And so, it began.

You didn’t notice how long you had this push and pull of allegories, fake names or places. At this point you were just a detective in charge of solving the death of Marshall Jones, a fraud who had been the successor of the Jones Industries.

...And that the biggest suspects were the two people in front of you; his younger brother, William Jones and their uncle, Mr Miles.

“This is stupid, I have men working for me on the government! They will turn a blind eye if I command it I-!”

“Just tell us who did it! I need to know who killed Marshall!” Sakuya trembled anxiously.

You just nodded calmly at both of them “You are right. This has taken too long and I apologize for it.”

Tenma and Sakuya both held their breaths. Acting with you was being a mental workout to keep up, but none of them could dismiss the thrill that came with it.

“However, I feel like I shouldn’t be the only one apologizing. Isn’t that right, Marshall?”

‘What?’

Confused, Tenma followed your pointing finger towards the crowd, and Sakuya almost let a gasp when a shadow made his way towards them. The crowd whispered furiously at the sudden change of flow of the act.

‘M-Misumi-san?!’

‘Since when was he there?!’

While they stared at the summer member, Misumi didn’t look that surprised, to which you inwardly breathed in relief.

Everyone’s eyes laid on him, his attitude perfect for the act, gloomy and mysterious.

Nothing like the happy young man who had wanted to show you triangles the first time you met "I was wondering if you would call out for me at some point, detective."

"Thought I would let you enjoy yourself for a while" you shrugged, and Misumi laughed huskily at your comment.

“Thank you for taking the job.”

“Yeah, yeah. Next time just try to not hide in such a melodramatic way.”

“B-brother? Is that really you…?" Sakuya walked slowly to Misumi, almost making it look like he was about to break into a cry.

Tenma took advantage of the situation to step in. He wasn’t about lose there "Y-you were supposed to be dead! I made sure of-!" he stopped half-way, covering his mouth. "Shit."

“Turns out you should have stayed in the room to check the works of the poison, Mr. Miles.” you made it look like you pulled two sets of handcuffs “As tender as this familiar reunion after death might be, I'm afraid you will have to accompany me. You are both been placed on a charge of murder… and inflicted fraud.”

And scene.

A few seconds passed and you swallowed. Had this been too much?

As soon as the first stupor faded, the now quite big surrounding crowd erupted in applause.

“T-that was amazing!”

“Wait, what?!”

“Didn't think another actor would be hiding!”

“That was Mankai, right? Wanna check their next performance?”

After thanking the audience, you hurried to the boy with a triangular earring, embarrassment running through you, noticing now what you had done. “I-I’m sorry for pulling you in! My body moved on its own and when I saw you…”

Tenma just scoffed, but you could tell he was proud. “Yeah, well- if there’s someone who shouldn’t have any problem with what you just did, it’s him.”

“It really was great!” Sakuya approached you both. “I almost broke character for a second there. Where you watching the whole time, Misumi-san?”

“Not really! I was looking for triangles and then I heard Tenma’s voice… and when I got closer I saw you guys acting!”

“Still, sorry for...”

“Mhm! It’s okay, it’s okay!” suddenly, Misumi started patting your head. “Good job, detective Y/N.”

You felt a blush rush to your cheeks at the touch and so you stepped back, laughing embarrassed. “I-I was also surprised how good everyone is! I mean of course you are, you guys are real actors but-”

"Let’s do another one."

“Uh?” you squeezed your eyes at Tenma. Maybe you hadn’t heard correctly. “But we just-“

“We have time. Misumi, you stay too."

“Okayyyy!”

Turning back to Sakuya the boy laughed nervously, but didn’t look surprised.

Ah, you were so screwed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The streetlights started lighting up when you made a decision to finally head back to the dorm.

“That was great!” Sakuya was moving as if he had received a burst of energy “It’s so much fun acting with people outside Mankai, isn’t it!”

“Everyone’s applauses were really suuuper loud too!”

“…and you say you only go sometimes to your theatre club?" Tenma saw you nod and shoved his hands into the pockets of his winter coat, groaning. "Just what's up with people like you and Misumi?"

"Hmh? Y/N and I are similar? Yaaaayy!"

"Misumi? it didn't sound like a compliment to me."

Sakuya laughed at the exchange. It truly had been an amazing experience. "Did you do theatre with director when you two were younger?"

You hummed, thinking about it. To be honest, theatre had always been around but you hadn’t really... When was it that you started acting again?

A scream stopped your train of thought.

"M-Misumi-san?!"

“You scared the daylights out of me, Misumi!"

Turning to the young man, you noticed him making a triangle with his hands and, while using it as a telescope, suddenly speeding up the pace. "It's a triangular cloud!"

"Misumi-san, please don't follow the cloud, we’ll be late for dinner!"

"Tri-triangle, tri-tri-triangle…!"

"Oi Misumi, quit singing and stop! I know you can hear us!"

Watching the interaction, you couldn't help but laugh, running after them.

They were a weird bunch… but in an endearing kind of way.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Oh? If it isn’t our cute Y/N” Azuma smiled softly as you all walked in.

“Did you guys go do street acts?” Tasuku lifted his head from the script in his hands. Sakuya nodded eagerly at the older actor, explaining the performances and the audience reaction.

Tsumugi laughed after the spring leader finished. “Seems like you all enjoyed yourselves out there.”

“Ah, youth! If only time would let us stop our bodies to enjoy the real pass of time of our souls!”

“Arisu… you’re annoying...”

“Okay everyone, let’s call the rest and start plating everything, okay?

You spent the rest of the night with the majority of the dorm.

You had a banter with Masumi about not giving your blessing, being cut by Citron’s weird proverbs and him being at the same time stopped by Tsuzuru. You laughed at Banri’s and Juza’s not so passive aggressive comments, heard some more stories about everyone and of course, you talked about acting and performances.

You shook your head amused. They really were acting addicts.

By the end of dinner, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

Closing your eyes, you splashed water in your face, deep in thought. “Living in this dorm must be amazing though…”

They all seemed to work so hard on any act they did… that it confused you. Izumi had always been insistent about you doing theatre and, while you appreciated it, you never took it seriously.

You enjoyed it, sure, but was it maybe because it came naturally to you? …What if you chose to act for real and then didn’t feel the same way after seeing the bad aspects of it?

Your mother was another matter too. She had made it clear she wouldn’t say anything, but you could tell it didn’t… exactly enthusiasm her. She barely mentioned Izumi’s work at home.

However, acting with everyone in Mankai had been fun. Every time.

Even you were surprised. Just how many street acts had you done after the first one today? You hadn’t practiced that much improv in a long time, not even in your theatre club.

It wasn't as of you didn't enjoy your own theatre activities, but surely there had to be a reason why you found yourself so awestruck by everyone here.

Or maybe not. Your mind was a mess. Closing the bathroom door, you sighed before noticing a figure walking towards you.

“Hey, I got the money ”

Without skipping a beat, you ‘tch’ed at Tenma. “First you’ll have to show me the body.”

“I have to see the money,” he pointed at you with his chin.

“First the body… or yours.” A few seconds passed and you both finally sneered. Tenma sighed, shaking his head.

“Thought I could get past you, dammit. You really should consider acting.”

Bullseye.

“Actually- Tenma, I was thinking” you faltered. “Um, did you… always want to be an actor?”

“Well- I was pretty much always in the industry since I was young, so yeah, I’d say so?”

“You never thought it could have been your parent… you know, telling you how you had talent what might have made you start acting?”

The summer leader thought about it, looking at the ceiling. However, he soon shrugged “If so, what?” noticing your confusion, he kept talking. “I mean, I guess they did have some influence… but in the end it was me who decided to stay. For me, not for them.”

You nodded. That made sense.

“Why the question?”

“Ah, nothing it’s just- I think Izumi tends to overreact saying I am like dad, you know, with acting and all. I didn’t think much about it until these acts made me feel…”

“Fulfilled?” The summer leader finished for you. Seeing he was right by looking at your face, he shrugged again in response. “I don’t know Yukio-san to say you are a copy of him, but yeah, you are good. Still though, you should do what you want above everything else.”

You nodded again.

You both headed back to the living room as a heated karaoke discussion between Citron and Banri while a few others tried to act as mediators.

Izumi turned to you and smiled “Everything okay?”

You faced her. The thoughts about acting and theatre could wait. As Tenma said, you didn’t have to rush and for now. You decided to let it aside and enjoy the warm feeling of being reunited with your sister and her weird, but lovable group of actors.

You took her hand and squeezed it. “Yup!”

_________________________________________________________

Hope you guys liked it. Have a wonderful day! 💕

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lovelivingmydreams · 3 years

Text

A story by heroes and villains

Virgil Anker: better together

Virgil learns to accept help from others.

“Ugh! I am done!” Virgil glanced up from his assignment to see Roman let himself fall back into his chair with relief. Their first study session had gone rather well. They should probably reserve one of the discussion booths next time. The poor librarian had needed to remind them to be quiet multiple times. They’d just had too much fun. But Virgil could understand Roman’s exhaustion. It was time they wrapped things up. “Give me a sec, I have to finish this thing for English,” he muttered absentmindedly as he focused once more.

“Want me to read it trough for you?”

Virgil looked up in surprise. “You don’t…” he started. He didn’t even know why he was feeling like he’d done something wrong right now. Picani might be able to help him figure it out during their session after Virgil got back from his trip to the zoo with uncle Thomas tomorrow.

“We’re here to help each other Virgil. If I didn’t want to help you I wouldn’t offer. I thrive on being of help to my friends. It’s no trouble.” Right. Roman was like that. For everyone, not just him. It was okay to let him help. Virgil found himself smiling a little sheepishly and nodded. “Alright. You can read it when I’m done,” he allowed quickly turning back to his work.

When he finished his essay he looked up to find Roman in the zone. Which was excellent. It made it easier to sneak up on him. Apparently those with ADHD were extra susceptible to his cloak. Did he have proof for that? Well it was more of a hypothesis, but he had no means to test it. It made sense though.

And Roman had yet to prove him wrong.

Virgil cloaked himself, moved to stand right next to Roman and looked over his shoulder. It looked like he was designing a fashion line. Trans girl dresses, Pansexual messenger bags… as well as formal clothing inspired by broadway and Disney characters it seemed. He dropped his cloak.

“Seems I’m not the only one who can draw up some clothes.” Virgil had to stifle his laughter when that observation nearly made Roman jump 4 feet in the air.

“Will you stop that!?” he hissed.

“Not a chance,” Virgil chuckled as he picked up Roman’s sketches.

“This looks good though… You ever thought of becoming a fashion designer?” he suggested casually, allowing himself to imagine starting a brand with Roman someday.

“You are a genius!” Roman exclaimed, making Virgil’s heart jump.

He played it cool though. He’d gotten good at that over the last two years. Pretending that Roman’s smile didn’t turn his insides upside down. “It’s the least I can do. I sent in the designs like you said… I’m kind of excited.” He was. He hoped to catch a glimpse when he went out tonight.

“I’m sure next time you see DreamPrince on the news he’ll be wearing your design.” It was nice, having someone believe in him like that. Other than his dads that is.

“We’ll see,” he smiled as he handed Roman his laptop.

“Well,” Roman announced after a while. “I think you can hand this in with confidence Virge.”

Virgil felt himself relax at that. Roman wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it.

“So… I recall something about pizza? I’m starving!”

Virgil chuckled and lead the hungry Hispanic to the restaurant he’d suggested.

Virgil reminded himself over and over that this wasn’t a date, but it was very hard. Especially when, near the end of their meal Roman suddenly started acting nervous. “So… Um… There’s this… Shoot wait a minute,” Roman got up and picked up his phone.

“Si mama…? Que?” Virgil watched Roman look at his watch and jump.

“Perdona! I’ll be there soon.” With that he hung up and took out his wallet. Rambling all the way.

“So sorry Virge! Time got away from us I’m afraid. I swear I intended to give you that ride… Can you call your dad… You know what? Just use the change to take the bus or a cab or something alright? My treat! I’ll call you later!” he promised as he tossed down a few bills before rushing away. Leaving Virgil behind a little stunned. Maybe it was a family thing? It looked urgent.

He took the bus as it was cheaper and there was a stop in his new street.

The house was nice. Though Virgil wasn’t used to it yet. Especially now, when his dads weren’t home, it felt weird being here. Luckily he didn’t plan on staying too long.

He texted his dad while getting dressed. By the time he left the house, he got a reply.

“Don’t wait up. Patton and Thomas say hi. Thomas wants to remind you of the trip to the zoo tomorrow.” Virgil smiled, he didn’t know uncle Thomas was going to be there too… Maybe these projects were just poker nights with the boys. He might have to ask them about it when they got home.

Regardless, duty called.

Virgil was starting to think that he might need to do take a break from turning in evidence for a bit. The criminals were getting agitated.

“I say we attack now! They are weak! We can take them down easily!” he heard one guy suggest. No, turf wars were a bad idea. Clearly he hadn’t thought about maintaining the power balance enough. Good thing he was about to even the playing field again. All these idiots had to do was get caught on his camera with something very illegal, preferably saying the bosses name or any clue the police could use for some kind of big bust.

The leader of this troupe seemed rather well respected. Virgil had learned to spot the difference between the ranks, and if this guy wasn’t answering to the big guy himself, then he was pretty close.

“Boss says we have a truce until the rat is found,” The big dude in question stated.

A truce? Was he that much of a threat? Should he feel flattered or scared?

The tugs argued back and forth a bit more and Virgil was seriously considering just getting out of here. Maybe he could trip up some lower tier members. Or go back to helping lost travelers for a while. Just enough to make the higher ups relax again. They wouldn’t rebuild their ranks too much if they thought it was an inside job or something. Right?

And if they’d realized someone was giving the cops everything they needed to stop them, they wouldn’t plan anything major for a while. Unless the boss was stupid.

Suddenly Virgil saw a figure descend from the roof. He made a hero landing, straight from a superhero movie.

Virgil’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be…

“Do you gentlemen have permits for those weapons?” Dream Prince asked with a deep, booming voice as he rose up, wearing the full costume Virgil had designed. Including the cape. What was he doing here? Stupid question. He was government sanctioned. The chief was on the news a few days ago claiming him as one of theirs.

Which meant she probably asked him to look for Virgil. Does that woman never give up?

The gang was confused by his appearance. One of them calling the young hero ‘prince clown’. Virgil was too far away to see it, but he was willing to bet the clown in question was not too pleased with that.

With a gesture from the leader the gang was silenced. “Sure kid,” he said in a voice that made Virgil stand on high alert. “Got mine right here.”

Or find the stories of Logan and Roman in the Master post

Before Virgil could react in any meaningful way, Prince had shielded himself with his cape and the leader fired at least four rounds at him. The hero was unharmed though. The sounds of bullets falling to the ground the only evidence that they had ever left the barrel in the first place.

“Well now you just pissed me off. This is brand new!” Prince complained as he dropped the cape. And Virgil had to admit, it looked very cool. “I suppose you won't surrender peacefully?” he deduced.

The sound of guns being armed was his only answer. Which was stupid. That was already shown not to work. But sure, shoot with more guns. Don’t actually use your brain or anything. Prince let out an annoyed sigh as he hung his cape from a water pipe. “Fine.” And just like that, he sped towards the criminals through a rain of bullets.

It seemed like he had it handled, and Virgil was pretty sure that he would notice he was there no matter how well he cloaked himself if he got involved. And if he was here to look for him and bring him in for whatever the chief had planned…

Still, he couldn’t make himself just stand by.

He jumped in and helped disarm the criminals and caught a few punches, Prince seemed unlikely to dodge. Pretty soon he felt like Prince was adapting his fighting to his presence which told him that he was in fact spotted.

Soon the gang was down on the ground and their disassembled guns were on a pile on the floor. Virgil returned to the shadows once the sirens lit up the alley.

Prince donned his cloak once more and walked up to where the leader laid, showing off his boot.

“So… how does it feel to get your butt kicked by a guy in heels?” Virgil’s eyes widened as he saw Prince show off the boot. He was wearing the heeled boots? Sure he pulled them off, but that wasn’t a smart move. He couldn’t have had that much time to practice with them yet. Virgil sent the design on Tuesday. Unless… Maybe he’d worn heels before? That was a possibility. Though crime fighting in heels couldn’t be comfortable… Still, it did make the whole thing extra cool, Virgil had to admit.

Suddenly Dream Prince looked up at him and gave a playful wink. So he had noticed him. And he could see him even though he was cloaked right now… Or not quite. He wasn’t looking directly at him. So he knew he was there, just not where exactly.

“Good job Dream Prince. We've got it from here,” one of the police officers who’d come to make the arrests told Prince. The young hero turned to him and bowed.

“It's my pleasure to be of assistance to the police of this fine city.” While he turned around he made a gesture with his hand. Virgil could tell he was being asked to follow.

Part of him wanted to run the other way. But he was curious.

He wanted to take a good look at the costume. He wanted to scold Prince. He wanted to give him a message for the chief. Maybe find out what she wanted from him.

So he followed him all the way to a rooftop.

The city lights illuminated Prince from the back, his cape floating in the wind.

Virgil wished he could take a picture. Roman would love this.

Prince took a step forward and bowed for him. He was really sticking to this Prince thing huh?

“Greetings Phantom. I must thank you for the assist now and three months ago. I am Dream Prince, he/him if you please. A pleasure to officially meet you.” So he had figured out when they’d met.

Virgil couldn’t help a chuckle. He was still cloaking himself. He’d never talked to someone like this before so he had no clue if and how that affected his voice.

“Phantom huh?” Hmm. He kind of liked it. Sure it confirmed that prince was here due to chief. But it was a cool nickname.

“Sure you can call me that. He/him… mind telling me what that was about? I thought you officials weren't let of your leash unless you could be responsible enough to not get yourself killed?” Did he sound a bit catty? Maybe. Was what Prince did idiotic? Absolutely.

Prince didn’t seem to agree. “Says the guy who has half the criminal underworld out for his blood.”

Virgil looked away. Damn. He’d hoped Prince was going to live up to Virgil’s original nickname for him. But he was no idiot.

“Do you have something against the program?” Prince pressed.

“No I…” Virgil tried to steady himself. It wasn’t Prince’s fault that he was pissed at his boss. “Sorry I’m just pissed at the cops for sending you, I guess,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Yet you chose to follow me up here?” Okay, so he really should give this guy more credit.

“Um… Well… I just…” He couldn’t tell him he was curious about him. That would give away interest on his part and he was not ready to let anything personal slide. He hated being put on the spot like this. Damn, this was not helping the stoic, mysterious guy aura he was going for.

“You interrupted my stake out!” he recalled. Right, one of the reasons he was mad at Prince. The lecture he’d interrupted with his observations.

“Do you know how long it takes to work my way up the ranks? First I have to find a low level runner, then I follow him to his boss, that guy to his and so up the ladder I go. I was getting real close to the big guy of this group. And now…” Sure, he had been thinking about needing to go more low profile for a while to let the rumors simmer out. But still.

“I apologize,” Prince replied sincerely with another bow. It was hard to be mad with this guy. Perfect hero material. “I merely intended to help. They were talking about killing you.”

He appreciated the concern really. But he overlooked one crucial detail.

“And now there is a price on your head! The leader of that little club is like two steps away from the big boss. They won’t be happy with you taking him in.” He couldn’t let him get himself on the bad guys’ list. Not because he thought he needed to protect him. Or maybe a little. When had he started feeling responsible for Prince? Was this how his dad felt? Why he’d tried to keep him from being overly self-sacrificing as a kid?

“You got dirt on them?” Prince wondered.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Yes… But that’s not the point. They have no clue about me. Not really,” just some guesses and rumors. “But you are out in the open.” They’d know who to go after with him. “This is not your kind of mission Royal pain. And now that you are out, you can’t expect me to hold your hand any longer…” Virgil got distracted when Prince crossed his arm and smirked smugly. “You’ve been looking out for me all summer huh?”

That smug little… Fine he got him there.

He rolled his eyes with a scoff, trying to dismiss the statement. “It’s not like I came looking for you.” He just… Did the right thing when they met up.

Prince was the one dreaming if he thought he felt any kind of responsibility towards him. He was just trying to… To be someone he could be proud of. That was why he was doing this. To not feel week and useless. To help people, even if he couldn’t always help those he felt closest to.

“Still… Thank you…” Prince said gently, about to step forward again. But then he cringed and clutched his head. “Ow!”

The young hero sounded more annoyed than in pain.

He pressed a finger to his ear. Communicating with whoever was on the other line no doubt. “One. Loud. Two. Rude! I am in the middle of something! And did you seriously remotely reactivate my com?” Virgil could hear him hiss in the communication device, dropping the regal persona completely. Virgil bit back his amusement.

“I am fine, not a scratch on me,” Prince replied annoyed. “I’ll call you when I’m done here.” And then he seemed to take something out of his ear. He was so lucky Virgil wasn’t a bad guy or he’d just made it a lot easier on him to take him out.

“Sorry,” Prince sighed. “My mentor is… intense at times.”

“Mentor?” Virgil wondered. He’d heard about the GTA program and it’s monitors in the past. But mentors… that sounded a bit more one on one than just people who told you what to do.

“One of the people helping me practice my powers, test my limits. Comes with the program. It’s not just a babysit and a nice suit,” Prince joked.

“Oh…” Virgil didn’t know what to say to that. It was… Something he’d been wanting for a while now. For a way to test all that he could do. To figure out the shield, push the limits of his cloak and try and use his healing for others. Someone to help him strategize, to talk with when he’d had a tough night. But unless he was ready to come clean with his dad, that was out of his reach.

“Listen, I admit I was sent by the chief. But I didn’t come here to recruit you. I wanted to thank you and tell you… If you ever need someone to talk to, to help you figure something out… I’d be more than happy to oblige. No need to tell me your name or anything about yourself.”

Virgil looked at the offered hand. Maybe, it wasn’t impossible after all.

He considered his options. But it seemed like there was no catch to this offer. So he closed the gap and shook his hand.

“I’ll see you next time,” Prince offered kindly before letting go and running straight of the rooftop as if there was a walkway just for him.

Virgil smirked. Maybe he should wrap it up for tonight. Prince and the other heroes had the area covered. He’d collect the information he had on the tugs that were arrested tonight. Next time he saw Dream Prince, he’d hand that information to him.

If things went well… This could be a good partnership.

End of this part. Meet Janus and learn his side

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

#sanders sides #ts sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #tw: guns #tw: violence #tw: gunshot #hero au #fic

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darringauthier · 3 years

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The Gentlemen (2019)

Genre: Action/Crime

Who's In It: Matthew McConaughey, Charlie Hunnam, Michelle Dockery, Colin Farrell, Henry Golding, Hugh Grant

Who Directed It: Guy Ritchie

Plot: An American expat tries to sell off his highly profitable marijuana empire in London, triggering plots, schemes, bribery and blackmail in an attempt to steal his domain out from under him.

Run Time: 113 Minutes

IMDB Score: 7.8

Metascore: 51

Rotten Tomatoes Score: Critics 75% Audience 84%

Why I Watched It: I wouldn't call myself a Guy Ritchie fan but I do watch most of his movies and this one is no exception, also the cast.

How I Watched It: Netflix Canada

Random Thoughts: I'll put this here cause it's not a like or dislike but boy this is a very Guy Ritchie film, it's weird cause when he does his crime films they're all the same set up but somehow different. I do think it's mostly the cast and some of the characters differ but there's no mistaking this is a Guy Ritchie film though this one does have a female character with something to do.

What I Liked: Style over substance, sometimes the style is enough and had some very good actors and really on certain nights that's all you need. I will hand this to Ritchie he puts his stamp on his films, a lot of films I review I barely mention the director but just go check now and see how many times I've typed his name. I don't like all his films but his style does carry most of them and also he has a knack of weaving many characters in different sub-plots that all come together very nicely and The Gentlemen is a good example. He does a great job of having a large cast and giving everyone character something to do and makes them seem like a real character and not a plot device or a troupe. This one has a few I really like, Colin Farrell and Michelle Dockery are easily my favorites and I do wish they were in it more. Farrell underplays his part really well, he gently takes scenes he doesn't steal them. I really like how well rounded he is with not that many "big" scenes. Dockery is a nice counterpoint to men running around being very manly. She's cool and intelligent and she has very good chemistry with McConaughey. Yes he's good here as well but he's dialed back this time out and he's very good, I wouldn't call his performance against type but it's not some different shading.

Now one thing I won't do is try and go into the plot, I will say it's dense and has many different moving parts but by the end I think you not only know what this was about but how we got there and because it's a Guy Ritchie film we got here by taking the scenic route. Now this isn't ground breaking but it's a film that not only knows what it is but it pulls it off well. The biggest compliment I can give it is that it's a good Guy Ritchie film. Trust me he has swung and missed a few times. This film is very much in his wheelhouse but he doesn't phone it in he does twist it enough to make it fun. That's the other big thing with the film is flows very well, the pacing is good and it keeps your interest.

What I Didn't Like: Not all the characters worked for me, i thought Hug Grant was good but there was way too much of him and his character does grate on your nerves. He never shuts up, I get that what he's going for but I could have done with a bit less of him or maybe dial him down a tad. Charlie Hunnam is fine but fairly bland, e's not that interesting of a character and that would have been fine if he was a side character but he like Grant are in it more than I would have liked cause he did take time from better characters.

I will also say that Ritchie just can't tell a story without twisting and bending things. Again the film scream "style" but at times you just wish he would tell the story in a way that was a little smoother. Some of the violence is harsh and there's a couple of things that are very creepy in the did we need that. The tone at times is a bit jarring. I get it though at the end of the day none of these people are really good guys, all shades of black and that can be a bit boring at times.

Final Thoughts: I enjoyed it, one of those film that I didn't love but it kept my attention and I wasn't bored at any point.

Rating: 7/10

#the gentlemen #matthew mcconaughey #charlie hunnam #michelle dockery #guy ritchie #hugh grant #colin farrell #crime movies #movie reviews

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johannstutt413 · 3 years

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TOURNAMENT ARC 2: PHANTOM VS PROJEKT RED

“Alright, let’s see...Looks like we’ve got a fight tomorrow, Jessie!” The Doctor unfurled a piece of paper from the machine. “First round for Specialists, it looks like; Phantom vs Red. It’s been awhile since Phantom stopped by the office, hasn’t it?”

“...Phantom?” The Feline shrugged; she’d seen records of that Operator before, but never actually encountered them herself.

He sighed. “Right, stealth specialist with mnemonic Arts. Regardless, it’ll be interesting to see what happens, especially since Red- actually, I haven’t seen her recently either. She hasn’t been on a mission, has she?”

“I don’t think so?” Jessica flipped open a tab and scrolled through some of her notes. “No, but she has been on leave for awhile.”

“Really? What kind of leave was it, again? I think you approved that one.”

At that exact moment, Projekt Red walked into the office with a baby in her arms. “Maternity leave.” [not exactly the same universe but hush it’s fine]

“Awww!” The two immediately approached. “What’s their name?”

“Scarlet SilverAsh. I don’t think I can be in the tournament for a while, Doctor; we haven’t moved her to formula yet.” Scarlet fussed a little, which the Lupo solved by licking her forehead.

The Doctor nodded. “That’s alright, Red; I think I know the person to take your spot. Let us know when you’re ready to fight and we’ll put you in the rotation.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll be watching today’s match from home. You can both come over, if you want; Encio’s making burgers.” She watched both of them blink several times. “What?”

“He can cook?” Jessica asked.

She nodded. “There’s nothing he can’t do. I need to feed her soon. Let us know if you want to come over.”

“Will do!” Once she’d left, the Feline smiled to herself. “I’m looking forward to that someday.”

“Having a kid with me?”

Jessie set her head on his shoulder. “Yeah...We should call Waai Fu now, before too much press goes out.”

“Good plan.”

TOURNAMENT ARC 2: PHANTOM VS PROJEKT RED WAAI FU

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, Operators, Staff, and Esteemed Guests! Welcome one and all to the Top Operator Tourney!!! *crowd cheers*

“Thanks, Hung! Hiiiii everyone! It’s your lovable idol and Penguin Logistics delivery girl Sora here, filling in for Click on account of some rather inflammatory commentary she gave during the last one. Joining me in the booth, filling in for FEater after she punched the person who told them that, is Croissant!”

“That’s right, Sora, and I ain’t goin’ any’re! Now earlya Baws ‘nounced we had a lil’ bituva skejul shift, but looks like we still ‘ave a real good’un on our ‘ands. On the north side, wi’ 14 years of fightin’ ‘sperience, she’s student by day and brawla’ by nite, WAAAAAAAI FUUUUUUUU!” *cheers* “Ye, dat’s wut I wanna hear! Annnnd on the south side- hey, where’d they go?” *confused crowd noises* “Uh...Now I ain’t gonna lie, I never did meet dis Phantom guy? We sure he works ‘ere?”

“I mean, Medical had enough data to evaluate with, so I guess he does? Aaaanyway, looking at the numbers, it looks like Waai Fu has more combat experience and raw strength, but Phantom’s faster and trickier to deal with, so hopefully he shows up long enough for us to watch him work!”

“Ye, let’s ‘ope so! Baws itn’t at the podium today, but Amiya’s down there doin’ the hands, so let’s ‘ear it! 3! 2! 1! LET’S RUUUUUUUUUUUMBLLLLLLLLLEEEEEE!!!”

--------

Down on the ground, as the commentators blathered away, psyching the crowd up, Phantom watched his target from the shadows, blades ready but simply observing. His opponent, an orange Feline he’d never seen before, likewise watched, patient. This wasn’t his usual style...but if it was a show they wanted, then he’d give them a show.

“So you are my opponent.” He took a step forward. “Shall we dance our dance for the masses?”

“The Phantom, in the flesh...I expected to face you later in the bracket, but this works, too.”

His eyes narrowed. “You recognize me?”

“I’ve spent my life clearing the street of scum like you, who skulk in the shadows and take others’ lives for your sick games.” She took a defensive stance. “Your ring of thieves deserved its fate-”

“Do not speak ill of the dead, lest you join them sooner than you expect.” A step backward, and he’d vanished.

Two Phantoms emerged from her shadow, blades drawn to strike as they flanked her, only to find she was ready for both attacks; Waai Fu evaded their swords as knocked both Phantom and his mirror image to the ground. “Repent while you still have time.”

And then everything was a blur.

-------

“It’s like it started out of nowhere! They stared each other down forever, and then BAM! Also, why are there two of him?!”

“I ‘unno, darlin’, but I ‘ope Junior ain’t watch’n this! They’re go’n at it ‘arder ‘n an’thin rite now! I can’t even count ‘ow many blows they’re tradin’, but not a single drop of blood on the ground yet!”

“You can tell Waai Fu’s struggling, though - two on one isn’t a fair fight for anyone, but she’s holding her ground someh- OH, what?!”

“Oh! Oh! That’s the Seven-Styles Kick!! ‘Oly shit, I ain’t ever seen it in person bef’r, but damn that was some’n! And one of ‘em’s gone now!”

“Things have slowed down, and she is absolutely whaling into him! Punch, punch, kick, kick; he’s doing his best to evade them, but I don’t think he can keep up like this for long! Especially since he can’t- never mind, he managed to slash her once, at least, but that just left him open for a solid haymaker! He’s not getting back u/p! 1! 2!! 3!!! SHE’S DONE IT!!!”

“Wowza...Not as bloody as last ‘un, ey darlin’?”

“Waai Fu’s getting medical attention, as is Phantom from the looks...Hey, wait a minute, honey, did you see that?”

“See what?”

--------

Aak was there at Waai Fu’s side, local anesthetic applied and staple gun going to work. “A bit of medi-gel will get this patched up in no time...Hey, who was that guy, anyway? Never seen him around before.”

“The Phantom Behind the Curtain, Treasurer of the Night. He was the leading man for a theatre troupe known for less-than-savory wetwork who traveled the world as a closely-knit ring of assassins, although many didn’t realize their actual business until the day it collapsed.” The Feline sighed. “That one killed a crowded theatre with his voice alone. He didn’t want me dead, not enough to speak to me with his true voice.”

“Truer words, vigilante, have yet to be spoken” a spectral figure whispered in her ear, disappearing before she could identify them.

The other Feline next to her cocked her head. “See something? Mighta gotten some hallucinogens in the anesthetic again.”

“No, it’s...nothing.” She shook her head. “It’ll pass, whatever it was.”

“You’d best win the tournament now, child...For your father’s sake.” From the other ear this time, as if standing in Aak’s place.

On the ground, as Warfarin ensured Gaspard began his recovery, a black cat stepped out of the shadows and, once the Sarkaz was done with the greater part of patching him up, sat on his chest, gently pawing at his face. A slight smile came to his face as he and his Christine were taken to Medical for full evaluation; he might have been defeated in this battle, but the war for himself was far from lost.

#arknights #arknights fic #TOURNAMENT ARC!!!#waai fu (arknights)#phantom (arknights)#projekt red (arknights)#jessica (arknights)#sora (arknights)#croissant (arknights)#i'm not gonna lie #i'm surprised no one's asked about Phantom yet #like i know i have a pretty sizable crowd of folks who like yuri fic #but...i 'unno #we'll get to him one of these days

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curry-planet · 4 years

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Lost In Wonderland | Itaru Chigasaki

"Although this world is filled with uncertainty. As long as I'm with you, it seems like we'll be just fine."

Itaru Chigasaki found his reflection in the mirror staring back at him with a smile that was so damn bright. He took a deep breath before straightening out his Mad Hatter costume that he was wearing currently.

He definitely wanted to wear game inspired formal wear but for now he'd do it all for the sake of this event.

Flowers were sprawled everywhere. Every guests table and chairs has flowers clinging onto them. Itaru looked out of the window and he saw the arch in front of all the chairs. He'd be down there soon.

This event sure did look bizarre compared to your normal ones. The table's centerpiece was a teapot! Teapots with flowers spilling out of them! The garden looked ethereal. Thanks to Tsumugi's help of course.

On the other side of the garden was a humongous table that was far too large for them to even use as a dining table for the reception. This table held gifts for them.

The cake came in three layers decorated with overly large fondant that were shaped to look like a teapot. There was also a pocket watch perched at the bottom. Omi and the other members sure did have fun making the cake. Itaru smiled at this thought.

It felt crazy. Everything did. It felt like a dream.

Itaru never thought about marriage in his life. Not even romance. That all changed when [Name] [Last Name] approached him backstage on the closing night of "Boy Alice in Wonderland", the first play he starred as the co-lead.

[Name] gifted him a little plushie that was modeled after him playing as the mad hatter. Itaru remembered how brightly his cheeks flushed. He stood there in shock clutching the handmade plushie as [Name] bid her farewell, congratulating him and wishing him well.

When he got back to his dorm room, he placed it on top of his desk temporarily. He'll find a place for this little Itaru later.

Well that was a lie. During one of his gaming sessions, he placed his phone down on his desk as someone knocked on his door. It was Sakuya holding a box of pizza. It must have been the pizza he ordered earlier. He paid Sakuya for the pizza, thanked him and shut the door.

Itaru was on his way back to his table when he tripped over his discarded shirt that was on the floor, fighting to find balance, he latched onto the first thing that his hand found. It was his desk, it shook slightly and forced little plushie Itaru to fall over into his phone screen. As if everything was on slow motion, it fell and accidentally touched his phone screen, which was opened on the gacha page.

It was a one 1x pull gacha thank god. Itaru couldn't believe his eyes when the Limited edition SSR of his favorite waifu appeared on screen. He tried to do a 10x pull again using plushie Itaru's hand.

5 freaking new SSRs. This plushie must be blessed by the gods! It was a good Sakuya substitute if the aforementioned boy wasn't around.

Ever since then Itaru was sure to watch every play Mankai did. Searching for that [Hair Color] haired girl with a pair of [Eye Color] eyes.

It didn't take long, looking for her that is. She was basically present at every play! Itaru approached her by thanking her. The rest is history.

___

[Name] [Last Name] admired the girl staring right back at her through the mirror. She couldn't believe her eyes. She was wearing a pale blue wedding dress that looked like it was plucked straight out from a fairy tale. Her dress was designed and made by Yuki of course. The young boy wouldn't talk to her until she agreed. Her make up, was of course done by Azami. He insisted and he wouldn't take no for an answer.

A knock brought her back to reality. It was Izumi Tachibana, the theater's director and her now best friend.

"Ah~ You look so pretty!" Izumi couldn't help but exclaim. "You look like a princess, I think I'm gonna cry!"

"Aww come on! It's my wedding day! Be happy!" [Name] said with a laugh.

"I still can't believe you're marrying Itaru..." Izumi sighed. "Not that I think he's not good for you! It's just-!" Izumi panicked.

"It's just very unexpected. Got it." She laughed as she put on her earrings that were sparkling in the afternoon light.

Izumi sighed softly the said, "It's almost time."

[Name] hummed in response. Her eyes glanced over the room once again. The sun's rays casted a saturated golden hue all around the room that was painted off white. She had a pocket watch that was placed on top of the vanity.

Before [Name] stepped outside of the room, she gave Izumi a hug, thanking her for everything.

[Name] arrived at the aisle in the garden that she will be walking through. The venue was small, the only guests were the whole Mankai Company alongside with a few of her friends.

Walking down the aisle felt surreal. Everything was in slow motion. The sun glowed bright. The flowers were in different colors, and in full bloom in spring. Alice in Wonderland themed decorations were placed all over the venue. There were so many things that she would normally find distracting yet her eyes only found Itaru in front of her standing by the arch, fully dressed in his Mad Hatter outfit.

[Name] laughed to herself. When Itaru proposed to her, she joked about being married in his Mad Hatter outfit in a Alice in Wonderland setting. It was her favorite tale after all. Seeing it in real life almost brought a tear in her eyes.

[Name] looked to her left. The whole Spring and Summer Troupe were grinning ear to ear as they watched her walk down the aisle. To her right was the entirety of the Autumn and Summer Troupe giving her smiles and nods of encouragement. Matsukawa, Tetsuro and Yuzo were also present, giving her encouraging smiles as well.

[Name] arrived in front of the arch. Itaru was quick to act and took her hand. [Name] felt like she was living in a fairytale right now. She couldn't even comprehend what the pastor was saying. All she could do was stare at the man beside her.

The man beside her wasn't too far different. All he could do was marvel at the gorgeous lady beside him. He never imagined himself loving someone as much as he loves [Name]. He loves her so much he'd let her play on his accounts.

Itaru knew [Name] was a sucker for fairy tales, she's a sucker for everything remotely connected to the fantasy genre. That's why he ended his vows by referencing one of her favorites,

"Wendy we can get away, I promise if you're with me, say the word and we'll find a way, I can be your lost boy, your last chance, Your 'everything better' plan, Somewhere in Neverland"

As he said this, he took her hand and rubbed soothing circles across the back of it. [Name] smiled as she caught in the reference. Just her smile could render Itaru frozen for days to no end.

It was now [Name]'s vows that were being spoken. She really wasn't a woman of many words. In fact, she was fretting over this portion of the wedding the other day. She finally settled on a line that Itaru and the Mad Hatter would say,

"Although this world is filled with uncertainty. As long as I'm with you, it seems like we'll be just fine."

The ceremony went by too fast. The next thing she knew they were exchanging rings and I Do's.

[Name] wanted to savour the moment more. She wanted to capture the moment, to freeze it in time. She wanted to remember how the wind felt against her skin. How cold her hands were because of her nervousness. Specially how Itaru's hands felt against her own.

"And now, by the power vested in me, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss." The pastor spoke in loud, firm voice.

It was this moment that every little girl dreamed of. Being married like the princes and princesses in the fairy tale books.

Itaru placed a hand on her soft cheek. Slowly they inched towards each other. [Name] closed her eyes and felt Itaru's lips on her own. The kiss was perfectly soft, full of love yet passionate at the same time.

[Name] opened her eyes and found Itaru's pretty pink eyes staring back at her. This made her smile, which Itaru reflected with one of his own.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. I present to you, for the first time, [Name] and Itaru Chigasaki" the pastor said, officially announcing their marriage.

A roar of applause erupted from within the guests. Izumi was sniffling, holding a tissue in her seat, Kazunari was taking pictures and uploading it to his Instablam (with the newlywed's approval of course), Omi was holding his camera taking pictures of the wedding ceremony. Homare was spouting freshly crafted poems, your wedding was too inspiring! He couldn't help it as his genius stirs by seeing them, young and in love! Taichi was crying with Izumi on the other hand.

"Typical Mankai Company." [Name] said with a smile. Itaru wrapped his arm around her waist and held her closer to him, a smile similar to [Name] plastered on his face.

This marks the start of their new life.

___

Wonderland A Go Go! Boy Alice [Masumi Usui (CV: Yuusuke Shirai)], Hatter [Itaru Chigasaki (CV: Shintarou Asanuma]

Somewhere In Neverland All Time Low

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