#SPEAKING of armors when i was typing out the fics i had written this year i realized that two fics in a row were named after armors songs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peachcitt · 3 years

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fanfic year in review - 2020

hey laddies i was tagged by both @miabrown007 and @strangerahne to do this, so without further ado here we go!

1) List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished:

Bone Tea (march) // All These Selfish Feelings (march) // Doomed from the Start (may) // Wouldn’t it be Nice (may) // my favorite set of stairs is the one up to your room (may) // screw the classics, and screw you for believing in them (june) // Friendship Bracelets (june) // Those Benevolent Stars (june) // the dark and the stained glass watchers (july) // Bloodsucker (july) // Messy Advances (july) // Happy Endings, the Sun, and Other Steps to Madness (july) // Guessing Game (august) // Passion Fruit Sunset [zine piece, currently unavailable] (september) // Home Coming [zine piece, currently unavailable] (november) // here (november) // bread and oranges (november) // clarity (november) // burgundy, near black (december) // About Emma Martin (december) // cherries (december) // falling, flying (december) // aloe-infused fuzzy socks (december)

23 fics??? okay well looking at it like this just makes me feel ridiculous

2) Number of words written:

219,184 words (which includes my unfinished fics on ao3 and the wips i haven’t posted)

again looking at it like this just makes me feel ridiculous

3) Your most popular fic:

friendship bracelets - the first in the series of my homoerotic college au zukka fics. honestly? i can’t even say im surprised

4) Your personal fav:

MAN this is hard. okay it’s gotta be a four-way tie between bone tea, those benevolent stars, home coming, and screw the classics and screw you for believing in them but really i could be lying because i wrote so much this year (i guess now last year?) that i was really really proud of

5) Your fav scene:

okay i have a lot of favorites but for right now i’ll say: the scene in chapter 3 of those benevolent stars when adrien and marinette are sitting on the banks of the seine and they talk about their favorite colors and adrien’s soulmate - it’s such a quiet and gentle moment, and because you know that their favorite colors are based off each other’s eyes but only marinette knows that and because you know adrien is talking about his soulmate to his soulmate and she knows it but he doesn’t. it’s full of such beautiful, tragic dramatic irony that i just love so so much

6) A fic or scene that challenged you:

hm okay the last few chapters of bone tea were definitely challenging not only because of, like, the big fight scenes (which, im not really comfortable writing fight scenes) but also because i had take all of the mess of emotions in bt and wrap it all up into a conclusion that needed to be satisfying. the same could be said about happy endings, the sun, and other steps to madness (minus the fight scene part)

writing impure - my changeling jim au fic - has also been a fun challenge because i basically watch trollhunters episodes as i write, examining each line of dialogue and each character interaction and seeing how that scene or relationship would be changed by the fact that jim is a changeling. it was also a little challenging to keep everything fresh and new - especially at the times when the dialogue from the show stayed the same in the fic, but so far, im really really happy with the way the fic is going

7) A line of writing you’re proud of:

off the top of my head are these two lines, both from screw the classics:

It was the ‘Daisy, Daisy, Daisy’s, over and over. Like her name conveyed some sort of deeper meaning that she expected Daisy to be able to understand. Like if she repeated it enough, it would become a sort of prayer that God would listen to, that He would enact to make Daisy put her fists away for once in her pitiful life. It was just “Daisy, Daisy, Daisy” over and over until her name stopped sounding like a name, like a word, and it was just a sound to fill the silence so that neither of them would have to talk about the way Basira’s touch lingered each time she wiped blood away or the way Daisy would always sit so that her knees touched Basira’s even though they were on the floor and there was more than enough room for them to breathe different air.

and

But sometimes Jon was easier than Basira. He didn’t have any of Basira’s softness - he was all edges and sharp lines. His elbows were basically knives, and his hips were edged with broken glass.

the first paragraph i really love because there’s almost a rhythm to it - like poetry - and i love the sound of it and all that it means in the context of the fic.

the second little bit i just love because every so often i think about it and i love the imagery and metaphor and the way it fits jon - in canon and in this fic. in this fic, they’re all in high school so jon is gangly and skinny and bony and in general, he’s just abrasive and a little rude. this description of him i just love (and the way i described him from martin’s pov in doomed from the start; “Jonathan Sims looked, even from a distance, as if he was perpetually smelling something awful. His features, just left of handsome, were marred by furrowed eyebrows and a distasteful frown.”)

8) A comment that touched you:

LITERALLY SO MANY????? the comments on the final chapter of bone tea, telling me that the story was something that they loved and found comfort in, the long comments on any of my fics detailing their exact favorite parts, the comments that were just short jokes that made me laugh out loud - literally i can’t pinpoint one. im just so thankful to have written things that people respond to with such kindness and love

9) Something that inspired your writing:

music!!!!!! i found myself making playlists for a few of my fics this year or listening to specific old playlists of mine for the right mood for a fic, and it’s really inspired me to write

also, as always, my own personal experiences. i thought and felt a lot this year, and i think in every single one of the fics i posted this year, you can probably find a central thought or feeling driving it that no doubt comes from my personal life

10) Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

finishing bone tea and tying the title to the fic!!!!!!!! finishing happy endings and also tying that title to the fic!!!!!! getting accepted into two different zines and working with two different amazing artists and completing those fics!!!!!!!! literally writing anything at all!!!!!!!!!

11) Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

i think mainly i just want to write, you know? i want to stop putting so much pressure on myself, because this past year i put so much pressure on myself that i was constantly feeling like i was underperforming (which was, like, super untrue, but you know how it goes) so when i wasn’t writing i felt like i was wasting time. i mean, don’t get me wrong, i had so much fun writing and creating all of these things that im so so proud of, it’s just the space in between writing sessions that i want to let myself breathe in. i don’t want to dread thinking about writing for fun anymore because that’s not fun

besides that, i think my other goals are to just continue forward with my unfinished projects - impure, the new wave, the bone tea extras - and to officially start the other two long fic ideas i have for mlb that ive been really excited about for a long while. this past year i wrote a lot of one shots (like. so many. oh my god) so maybe this year i might focus on long projects. who knows though definitely not me it’ll be a surprise for all of us

anyway that’s all!! thanks mia and strangerahne for tagging me!! ive been needing a lot of reminders lately that i have, in fact, written this year, and having to, like, do math and scroll through my ao3 page and all my google docs has been really enlightening so thanks so much for this

i tag: @lnc2, @chatnoirinette, @deinde-prandium, and @rosekasa! y’all don’t have to do this, but i’d love to see how y’all felt about your works this year and also to see y’all love yourselves very much because you deserve it. also literally anyone can do this you can just say i tagged you i don’t mind it’ll be our secret - i highly encourage it because it’s very sweet and very fun to look back on all you’ve accomplished this year

<3<3<3<3

#tag game #GOOD LORD.THIS TOOK ME LIKE TWO HOURS KJFBGLKDFJHLSDIHG:SD #i will admit. most of those two hours was spent trying to figure out my word count akjfghlk #also scrolling through my ao3 and linking all my fics that also took a while #BUT REALLY while i was adding up my word count i just kept on staring at the growing number like ????jfc???????#i know ive been posting about it a lot lately but the fact that i have had the audacity to keep on getting antsy over not writing???#literally im ridiculous. OVER 200k WORDS. LITERALLY SHUT UP THAT'S RIDICULOUS.#and the fact that i wrote so much of those words during a pandemic and going through perhaps one of the worst years of my life???#struggling with personal issues and mental issues and school issues and like. SO MANY ISSUES????? HOW #idk this was just so so validating. also terrifying. god #im scared of myself tbh. i have no idea how i did any of this. i feel like i just. blacked out and now im here and FUCK I JUST FUCKJFHLGJSR #IT JUST SUNK IN THAT IT'S 2021 NOW???????? H O W #like logically i knew 2020 would have to end at some point but like most days felt like fucking decades so ??#god. it's a whole new year now. that's fuckng wild bro #im feeling emotional. it doesn't help that im listening to my favorite band (armors) now and it's the song that always brings me to myknees #EMPTY AND WORN YOU CARRY ME HOME NOW YOU'RE LETTING GO OF ME BROKEN AND TORN YOU CARRY ME HOME NOW YOU'RE LETTING GO OF ME #tell me that doesn't send you into a State. you can't. fuck.#(the song is comatose by armors btw)#SPEAKING of armors when i was typing out the fics i had written this year i realized that two fics in a row were named after armors songs #all these selfish feelings (chlonette; lyric from portland by armors) and doomed from the start (jonmartin; lyric from name by armors)#im literally so lame. and that's fine #also i scrolled up just now to check and i realized that i have FOUR FICS IN A ROW NAMED AFTER SONGS???#man i really wasn't kidding when i said i was inspired by music huh sldjfhgsjfh #also in case you're wondering they're all these selfish feelings and doomed from the start and ALSO #wouldn't it be nice (jonmartin; lyrics from wouldn't it be nice by the beach boys)#and my favorite set of stairs is the one up to your room (adrinette; 11:11 by waterparks)#ANYWAY i should be done with this post now sorry for anyone who is still reading for having to deal with my rambling #and goodnight sweet dreams happy new year ily

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xiaowhore · 2 years

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amusing beginnings.

premise: the dramatic prelude of a tale spun by the workings of fate, weaved with strings of scarlet linking futures untold. this is a story of innocence, of unforeseen encounters offering no clue of a romance that will blossom much, much later — this is how you begin together, yet there is no telling if there will ever be a proper conclusion for the prose you call love.

or, plainly speaking, a series of meet-cute scenarios i am far too lazy dedicating individual fics for. i just wanted to sound smart about it.

includes: xiao & itto !

xiao, a friend from an mmo game

moving to a different town and entering a new school in the middle of the year... are inconvenient. friend groups within the class had already been established, and badgering your seatmate to put up with your presence during lunch break or free time outside of lessons when you just don't click together as friends doesn't sound very appealing.

it doesn't help that you aren't extroverted, bumbling and awkward as you try to interact with others more. but if you don't want to feel like a loser for the entire year, you'd have to exert some effort to make friends.

so when you hear about a multiplayer game everyone's been raving about, you thought that was your chance to fit in — after all, if you had common interests with your classmates, couldn't you invite them to play together or something?

thus, you download the game, lament the astronomical numbers of space it took up in your storage, and experiment with the controls until you get more familiar with them.

except some high-leveled assholes who have nothing better to do keep killing your poor level 1 in-game character, armed with a dull sword, starter equipment, and flimsy armor that had no way to defend against level 41 fire blasts, and wait until you respawn to do it all over again. with this hindering your progress, you couldn't complete the main quest in order to advance to the next area.

they taunt you in the world chat, too obnoxiously prideful for someone miserable enough to pick on amateurs, and that's when he appears:

geared in what looks like expensive armor, equipped with rare weapons retrieved from the highest difficulty of dungeons, his name written in bright front and his level, 174, just above it. alatus, his ID reads.

it takes him no more than one move to wipe them all out.

what are you doing? he types in the world chat. hurry up and go before they respawn.

thank you so much!!!!! you reply with a flurry of exclamation points and emotes, shocked that you'd run into someone so high leveled right off the bat. the other players in the server watching the spectacle seem to think he's intimidating and steered clear of him, making a wide circle around you.

though he told you to hurry up, he lingers by your side, almost like he's guarding you. he escorts you all the way until you finish the main quest, not speaking a word and only silently killing surrounding enemies too high for your level.

you wonder if it would be too cheeky of you to send a friend request; he's one of the best in the server, boasting all kinds of achievements and artifacts in his player profile. why would he be interested in befriending a newbie like you?

you're terrible at this, he sends in the chat. this is the first i've seen anyone flubbing basic attacks. don't just press any button you see.

you cringe. his words are harsh but truthful. you kept pressing the wrong buttons to dodge and always receive the brunt of the attacks.

however, you pause when a notification flashes on your screen: player alatus has sent you a friend request! accept or decline?

jolting, you scramble to click accept, lest he take it back last minute. can he even do that? whatever. following that is a present from a friend sent to your mailbox, a pair of level 50 dual blades and defensive armor. they pale in comparison to his current gear, but they're plenty powerful for normal players, especially for an amateur who barely just reached level 7 after grinding some missions (and with help).

old equipment. needed to clear out my inventory, he adds, as if he doesn't want you to get the wrong idea.

you've lost track for the amount of times you've thanked him in the past hour or so, and you try to send more exclamation points and different emotes so you wouldn't appear like a broken record. though i appreciate everything, can i ask you why you're helping a new player like me? you ask tentatively, eager to hear his answer.

there isn't much else you can do at this level. that's all there is to it. and you were pitiful.

...kind of pretentious, but okay...

can i play with you again some other time? you type before the thought of wanting to do so even registers in your mind. not just so you can help me. it's been really fun spending time with you!!!

three minutes of silence pass. your confidence to reach out and make friends shriveled up and died.

sure.

then, later, i usually play at evening or at midnight. our schedules might not line up.

there's no problem! i stay up most nights, too!

then i'll see you some other time. i'm logging off.

relief crashes over you, only dwindling when alatus has gone offline. he was fine with being friends... and promised to play together again in the future... well, maybe not promise, but something like it, and that's enough.

the months fly by, and opposed to your prior concerns, you fit in class just fine. playing the mmo game to have a common interest with your classmates was the right move, and it had opened ways for you to connect with others more through other similar hobbies.

but even after you achieved your goal, you didn't drop the game. you're not the most avid player, but you grind dungeons a normal amount, clearing time-limited events if you find them entertaining enough.

it's mostly just to spend time with alatus, though.

alatus, or xiao as you later learned after you exchanged your real names, is quite the charmer. not that you've ever seen his face; he is just... cute, in general. he appears gruff and intimidating, but really, he's an awkward guy who can't act soft because it's “undignified.”

you think he is sweet and kind, though you'll never say it to his face since it'll only make him feel embarrassed. not only does he come to save you each time you tell him you're having a hard time defeating a boss in your private chat, and he gives away precious weaponry and potions to you exclusively as if any other player wouldn't willingly hand over all their gold just to get a piece of it, he makes a great listener.

you have a bad habit of rambling and getting immersed in your thoughts at late hours of the night. you speak of your insecurities, your weaknesses, your fears, and he listens even if he doesn't type a reply all throughout your flood of messages. he keeps his response concise, but they're thoughtful advice, ones that you take into heart. he's a comforting figure, regardless of being a stranger behind a screen.

sometimes, you like to think you're sorta the same for him. xiao isn't as straightforward as you when he wants company, but he asks if you can stay online longer than usual, just to talk or to do the more relaxing tasks in the game. he trusts you to an extent, enough to offer exchanging real names at least.

enough to ask you to marry him.

your in-game character, of course! what else could that possibly mean?! okay, so you may have nearly fallen out of your chair in shock when he sent you a marriage proposal through chat of all things, but that's all it means! nothing more!

there was a couples-exclusive event dungeon, and the loot was desirable. some beautiful skins for pure cosmetic, and also a power-enhancing ring that you couldn't find anywhere else. xiao, the game nerd that he is, couldn't pass it up.

so yeah. technically, you can say you married him.

it was a hot topic at some point. alatus was one of the best players in the server, notorious for his aversion to cooperating with others, and he hadn't married anyone despite all the rewards you could reap with the marriage function.

then there's you, level 47, not especially skilled in anything, not especially appealing in your character's outward appearance, and not especially... notable. the very meaning of an average player, so to speak. he specifically chose you, but nobody could understand why.

well. whatever. the marriage is old news already. the present hottest news is the huge gaming convention to come in two weeks. fans are hyping it up and you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited too. in fact, your friends already made plans with you to come on a weekend.

when you talk to xiao about it, there's a rare moment of hesitance before he types out a reply, almost like the times where he gets nervous before asking you a favor.

are you going too? you ask, grinning to yourself.

yeah, he answers back. a minute and a half of silence.

then, startlingly, do you want to meet up?

you've always doubted the feasibility of choking on air before, but after experiencing it firsthand, you learn that anything really is possible. including meeting the elusive guy you've had a massive crush on, no matter how unlikely it seemed.

you are severely late.

but! for good reason! you'd hate to look like a hobo, so you made sure to dress nicely! ...maybe too nicely for a gaming convention where everyone will be sweaty and icky, but better prepared than sorry!

somehow, i'm not even surprised, reads xiao's text — yes! you exchanged numbers! — and you can picture him scoffing at the other end. don't rush and trip in the middle of running. i'm not going anywhere.

you ignore the way your heart skips a beat at that and focus on getting there safely. he said to do just that, after all. but while waiting at the crosswalk, you wonder what xiao really looks like... would he be tall and scary? or unexpectedly soft and cute?

in all honesty, you should've sent pictures of yourselves to identify each other easier at the venue, but against your better judgment, you suggested only describing your attire and keeping your appearances a secret because the mystery is “fun” and it'd be nicer to see each other for the first time face to face. (you've only been trying to prolong your inevitable death, because whatever he looks like, you're bound to fall deeper anyway.)

i'm here, you text to him, beginning to anxiously look around your surroundings. he said to meet up at the entrance, and there are more people than you expected...

i'll find you. stay by the first advertisement banner at the front.

alright!

you bite your lip, clammy hands holding your phone tightly. you're a lot more nervous than you thought you would be. did you look okay? you've asked your friends over and over again if you looked presentable, enough times to annoy them, probably. you styled your hair differently too... you wonder if it looks weird. xiao said he would be wearing a green jacket and dark pants, and he had piercings in his ear, and then you can't remember what else because oh my god, what does xiao look like with piercings in his ear.

you snap out of your thoughts when a path opens up in front of you. first, there are disgruntled noises from people being pushed away, then they disappear like wisps of smoke the second after. quiet gasps of surprise come from the group of girls nearby, and if you had to guess, it would likely be a good-looking cosplayer passing by.

the figure stops in front of you, sneakers in your line of sight where you stare blankly at the floor. slowly, your eyes rake up — dark fitting jeans, a trail of silver chains disappearing under the hem of a green jacket, a white shirt printed with dragons...

you're reluctant to glance anywhere higher above the line of his neck.

“[name]?”

fuck.

it's him.

you take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. then you look up, properly.

you see golden eyes, specks of stars glittering in his irises.

his skin is pale, pink from the warm sun. his lips are pink too, a traitorous part of your mind marvels, slightly parted in surprise and shaped around an o. his hair is dark, tied up into a messy ponytail, sharp tips dyed in teal poking his cheek, framing the sides of his face.

oh no. he's hot.

he is so hot.

and he's staring at you.

“x... xiao?” your voice comes out strangled. embarrassingly. oh god. you are so fucked.

his face grows redder, and he scratches his cheek. “...that's me.”

silence.

you have to say something.

“do you... want to go outside?” he coughs into a fist. “the event has already started.”

“uh, yeah! sure! of course!” you ramble, walking past him in the hopes you wouldn't make a bigger fool of yourself. your face looks weird, surely. “i can't wait to see the cosplayers! they're also announcing a new chapter for the main story today, aren't th-”

“wait.”

he catches your wrist. you stop breathing, at risk of choking on air again.

“it's crowded.” his hand curls tighter. oh no. “don't get lost.”

“i won't, what are you talking about?” you laugh awkwardly. seeing him, hearing him, touching him, is such a strange thing.

“i wouldn't be surprised if you did.” his fingers dip lower, fitting in the spaces within yours. properly holding your hand. oh. oh. “so don't wander off without me.”

“yeah.” you're positively breathless. “yeah. i won't.”

he squeezes your hand. you're not looking at him directly, but you see him tilting his head at the corner of your eye. “...no complaints about this?”

“none at all.”

“okay.” he squeezes again. carefully, tenderly. his palms are sweaty. at least that tells you you're not the only one nervous. “if you say so.”

itto, a delinquent in the downpour

arataki itto is an idiot.

an idiot who keeps picking fights with people he can't beat, and kujou sara tells him off for it. an idiot who grabs the last piece of fried chicken on the table, agrees to thoma's proposal for a battle of rock-paper-scissors to get it, only for itto to lose each time. an idiot who bets on his entire deck of trading cards in his beetle fights, never truly realizing the risk until he'd already lost everything to kamisato ayato.

but arataki itto doesn't regret.

he doesn't regret trying to beat kujou sara even if it's his loss in the end, because she doesn't look down on him for losing and his friends are always there to patch him up. he doesn't regret doing rock-paper-scissors with thoma, because thoma would end up sharing the piece of chicken anyway. he doesn't regret betting on his deck, because ayato is never greedy, and he will always, always give it back to itto and tell him to try better next time.

arataki itto doesn't regret it this time either, even if he doesn't gain anything. even when he's battered and bruised, drenched in the rain, slumped against a wall in the middle of a dark alley. even when the boy he just saved from money-grubbing hooligans didn't spare him another look nor gave him any word of thanks, left him to fend for himself when the men's hostility had already been directed at him. never called for help, either, just allowed him to be outnumbered in a fight, and as strong itto is, there's no way he can beat five bulky guys on his own.

he doesn't regret, but it stings a little.

his entire body prickles with hurt, but at the same time he's unfeeling, numb in the cold rain. his line of sight is getting blurry, too, blobs of color instead of people darting past, streetlights small bright spots like fireflies.

he tries to open his mouth to ask for help, but that stings too. a busted lip, maybe. his voice is feeble, silent in his own ears. it can't be heard over the pouring rain. he tries to sit up straighter, but the effort to nudge his shoulder back exhausts all his energy. he wants to reach out a hand at least, but before he can even try, his body won't listen to him. his eyes close against his wishes.

he knows for sure he isn't too deep in the alley. can't anybody see him? or are they deliberately ignoring him because they don't want trouble? there's nothing wrong with that, really. not everyone has the time to help, or the bravery to approach a big guy covered in wounds. he understands. but he still hopes anyway.

ah, it's cold. the brick wall behind him is rough. his clothes are uncomfortable, sticking to his skin like this.

he forces his eyes open. there, he sees a pair of shoes, forming ripples across puddles when they step closer.

they halt.

they turn the opposite direction.

they leave him alone.

(he doesn't notice the umbrella they leave behind.)

he wakes up to someone patting his cheek. someone is speaking, but everything is muddled. it's still cold, and his back is still resting against the brick wall. but there's no rain anymore, only the pitter-patter sound when it hit the pavement.

he wonders how long he'd been shielded away from it.

“...llo... can... stand...”

stand. do they want him to stand? he's afraid that's too much to ask for.

the rain covers him again, icy drops falling on his skin. warmth overlaps with the frost, grabbing his arm, curling it around... something. he's being lifted up. not very effectively, but they're trying.

so he tries his best too. shifting his weight, blinking his eyes open, staying awake. they take him somewhere. it's dry, and when they push him over, it's to a plush seat. they don't complain when he leans his head on their shoulder, possibly soaking their clothes with his wet hair. he has to apologize, but sleep overtakes him.

itto doesn't remember much after that. just a hand on his forehead for some time, parts of his body wiped and wrapped in gauze. a blanket tucked carefully around him, fingertips brushing by his shoulders before they leave.

when he fully comes to, the first thing that registers to his mind is a room full of white. white sheets, white ceilings, white curtains. then a head of blue hair, standing by the window.

“oh, you're awake!” ayato exclaims, beyond relieved. “i was surprised when i picked up your call and it was someone else speaking. good thing they rushed you to the hospital, huh?”

“someone took me here?” itto asks, sitting up. “where are they?”

“they took off after i arrived. said they were late to an interview because they had to stay here... ah. that must've meant they probably didn't get the job...” he murmurs, grimacing. “i should've asked for their number so we can thank them properly. no point trying to find them now, though.”

but itto saw them. not very clearly, but he remembers kind eyes glazed in worry, a shirt partly soaked through, and a silver star hanging from their necklace.

arataki itto was never especially smart, but if anything, he is stubborn, and if he put his mind to it, he can do anything.

“isn't there any part-time job out there that doesn't pay minimum wage?”

“what? you saving up for something?”

“summer vacation is coming, you know! vacation trips aren't going to pay for themselves,” you sigh, burying your face in your folded arms.

“it's not like you have a boyfriend to spend it with.”

“can't i go on a vacation with friends?”

“and who are these friends you speak of? everyone is dating somebody. they're probably too busy,” she retorts, looking envious. “even xiao has someone when all he does is play games everyday.”

you scrunch your nose. “damn those happy idiots...”

“that aside, i thought you found a good part-time job? you didn't get it?”

hearing that, you turn even gloomier. “i didn't tell you? i blew it. i came late on the interview, and that didn't make a very good first impression. plus i looked horrible from the rain.”

“hm. find a rich boyfriend, then.”

“like who...?”

“kamisato ayato from the other department?” your friend suggests, grinning. “he's good looking. his sister is pretty too, i saw them walking together once.”

you snort. “way out of my league. i'm better off not hoping.”

“don't be like that~ i heard he was going to attend the next mixer. thoma told me himself-”

the door to the lecture hall opens, interrupting your conversation. “is [name] here?” a voice queried, rough and a tad bit too loud.

“right he-”

your friend slaps a hand over your mouth frantically, turning you away from the door. “what are you doing?!”

“what?” you blink up at her, whispering, “he's asking for me, isn't he?”

“didn't you see who it was?” she hisses, shielding you from view. “arataki itto! the one who beat up a senior on his first day as a freshman, remember?!”

arataki itto?

doesn't ring a bell.

“come on, that's just a ridiculous rumor, isn't it?” you wave her off, laughing. “wasn't kazuha rumored to have a criminal record at some point? you should know better than to believe them. so don't worry and let go of me, i'm sure he's not-”

your eyes flit to his sharp eyes, gleaming with intent, and his muscular build that could probably crush your skull with a single hand.

“...going to kill me...” your voice trails of too a whisper, face paling in horror. “on second thought, please be my meat shield?”

“[n-name] is over there!” a terrified classmate points in your direction the moment itto turns to glance at him inquisitively. a snitch! a tattletale! you're never lending him your notes ever again. given that you live another day, that is.

“oh. thanks.”

how polite! thanking him for his contribution in your likely murder!

“wait wait wait, what does he want with me?!” you shrink further behind your friend, but there is no escape. he can see you peeking over her shoulder.

“shouldn't you know that?! did you piss him off or something?!”

“i don't know! i've never seen him before!” you cried. you really haven't! you swear you have nothing to do with him! you don't deal with people who look like trouble! sure you might have dragged a delinquent to the hospital a few weeks before, but he was unconscious and defenseless! he could barely stand! this guy can punt you off to mars!

“you're [name], right?” his eyes sparkle with recognition, just an arm's width away from you now. your friend, traitor that she is, silently moves away.

an involuntary squeak is punched out of your lungs. “y... yes, that's me,” you respond meekly, attempting a wobbly smile. “did you need me for something?”

itto clears his throat, expression similar to that of a constipated man's. “well... that is... i was... how do i say this...”

the deafening silence stretches for what seems like hours. the back of your neck prickles at the attention, everyone's eyes focused solely on the pair of you. you can't read him at all. what kind of offense did you do that he had to come to you like this?

“ah, dang it, 'm not good at things like this...” he grumbles, scratching his head.

eh? what is he not good at? public execution? no, no, he wouldn't go that far right?

“so, what i'm trying to say is-!”

he flails about, thrusting out the hands he'd been hiding behind his back. a bouquet of pink roses, delicate and small, is curled within his grasp. your eyes widen, taken aback, turning even wider when you see the way his cheeks redden, entire face aflame, fingers trembling nervously. his face, pinched tight with restless energy, is nothing but earnest and sincere.

“i admire you a lot! i...” he takes an intake of breath. “i would like to court you!”

and, ever so eloquently, you respond with, “wuh?”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin impact scenarios #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #itto x reader #itto imagines #arataki itto #genshin xiao x reader

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gatorbites-imagines · 2 years

Note

Mind if I requested a Mando with a tall S/O? Like my boy here ain't your typical 6'0 man, he's around 8ft tall and wears thick armor, basically imagine Doom Guy if he were much taller and a Panzer(Tank) in human form. But in reality he affectionate, Mando only finds out when he gets picked up by the tank in a hug or is shown care when S/O has to patch the man up

Din Djarin x Tall male reader

Headcanons

Its not mentioned but imagine the readers armor is like Paz Vizsla seeing as he is a tanker-like type Mandalorian.

Sorry this took like a million years for me to write, haven’t been in the biggest Star Wars mood lately, but I’m back Baby.

I didn’t feel like adding as much mando´a in this fic as the other Din Djarin ones I’ve written.

Helmet kisses, lets goooo

- You and Din first met on a bounty that you had both taken. You are from different coverts, yours being one that allows people to remove their helmets and be open about names and alike.

- This doesn’t mean you remove your helmet a lot. You tend to keep it on because its more comfortable, unknown to you it makes you very intimidating and even scary to some people.

- Being that you are both Mandalorian and that there are not many left, you decide to split the bounty. You assume Din isn’t much of a talker and since you enjoy quiet, you don’t speak much on this mission. This makes Din feel like he has to be serious and follow the way when around you, since you remind him of Paz.

- You give eachother your contacts and keep on touch, mainly by sharing bounties the other might enjoy and alike. Overtime it becomes closer to small talk, but as much as Din hates to admit it he is still slightly intimidated by you as you tower over him in height and build.

- You take bounties very seriously, and seeing as you are an incredible fighter it pushes Din to try harder. Seeing Din try so hard you press yourself too. You end up helping each other get better without realizing.

- You start to develop feelings for the other man when he takes a blasterbolt for you, not caring for his own wellbeing. You feel yourself fretting on the inside and ask if he needs help patching up. Din, not being used to attention, says he can do it himself.

- You don’t know but Din has been developing feelings for a while. He sees how an incredible fighter you are, how handsome you are in your armor even if he hasn’t seen your face, and how you go out of your way to protect the innocent. So, you offering to help makes his face hot.

- The two of you continue your dance, subtly flirting in ways only bounty hunters and mandalorians only can. By having each other’s backs during bounties and giving each other weapons as gifts.

- Its during one of these bounties you two get split up. It had turned out much worse than you had been told. It went from catching a few wanted people, to being swarmed by what seems like a never-ending swarm of beings, all gunning for your head.

- Your com connection to Din ends up shorting out, and you don’t know if your friend and crush is alright.

- When the battle is finally over Din and you meet up at your ships, and Din is noticeably limping and covered in blood that appears to be his own.

- He tries to make a comment about being fine, but you feel all the worry that had been building up well over, and you throw your arms around him and lift him off the ground, clutching him close.

- Din stutters, fumbling with his hands as he doesn’t know what to do with them, before wrapping his arms around you in return.

- You stay wrapped up until the adrenaline wears off and your own wounds start hurting. This makes you realize Din was hurt, so you carry him off into your ship.

- He tries to say he’s fine and can do it himself, but you brush it off, telling him you’ll help and it’s the least you could do.

- It takes some fumbling around but your both out of your armor, except helmets, and you help Din put on bacta patches and clean up.

- At some point your patching up the last cut on his arm, and after putting the bacta on, your visors meet, and you feel your chest and face warm.

- You’re both at a loss for words, you both know what you want but don’t know how to act on it. It ends with you leaning forward and clinking your forehead against his in a Keldabe, Din twitching before reaching up to grasp as your neck to pull you closer.

#male reader #star wars #din djarin #mandalorian reader #star wars imagine #star wars headcanon #star wars x male reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin headcanon #din djarin x male reader #mandalorian imagine #Mandalorian Headcanon #mandalorian x male reader

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cozy-the-overlord · 3 years

Text

Happiness

Summary: A daughter of Thanos, Eija had grown accustomed to the isolated nature of life on the Sanctuary. Only when her father orders her to keep watch over an injured prisoner does she begin to realize how lonely it is.

Written for @lucywrites02′s Lucywrites19 Writing Challenge on prompt #6

Word Count: 4,078

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

A/N: Lucy: *puts together a list of really nice, sweet, loving prompts that would make for some wonderful, fluffy fics*

Me: And I took that personally

Honestly, this turned into more of a separate challenge for me to see if I could take a fluffy prompt and write an angst bomb. I can say I’m both pleased and thoroughly ashamed of myself.

Happy Birthday, Lucy! I hope you don’t hate me too much after this one ...

Warnings: Implied/referenced torture (it’s not super graphic, but it’s definitely there), blood/injury, character death

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

“Are you happy, child?”

It wasn’t the type of thing Eija had expected the hulking warrior to ask a street urchin like her, especially not after catching her wrist in his pocket. Really, she should have known better than to try to steal from someone so clearly capable of crushing her skull within his fist, but his golden armor had glistened so temptingly in the sunlight and besides, she had never been caught before …

When he caught her wrist and yanked her in front of him, Eija was sure that this was the end. The penalty for stealing was steep to begin with, but stealing from a noble (and certainly this man must have been a noble) could lose you your head. But he said nothing of punishment. Instead, he curled his purple lips into a smile and asked her that question.

“Are you happy, child?”

No one had ever asked her that before. No one ever really asked her anything—the most Eija ever got were the curses spat at her on the street, on the luckless days when pickpocketing had brought her nothing and she was forced to beg for sustenance. No one cared enough to ask after her.

No, she told the warrior-noble, no, she wasn’t happy. She was hungry and tired and cold, and she didn’t have money to buy food.

The towering creature laughed, caressing the brilliant hilt that hung at his waist. “I thought not. Come,” he said, stepping forward and motioning her to follow. “I have something for you to eat on my ship.”

…

Eija tugged at the laces on her boot. She had tied and untied them three times already, but she could think of nothing else to do in this tiny room, so she went in for the fourth. Besides her, the Jotun sagged against his braces in the metal chair, his labored breathing the only sound to break the stillness. He didn’t look very Jotun. Lord Thanos had explained that it was some kind of enchantment—the AllFather had magicked away his blue skin when he was a baby to make him look more Asgardian. Eija didn’t really understand the reasoning behind such an action, but she didn’t need to. Her job was simply to make sure he survived the night.

It was a frustrating assignment. Eija wasn’t a healer—she had no idea what she was supposed to do if death came knocking for the prisoner. Unfortunately, she wasn’t exactly an assassin either, and so unlike the rest of her adoptive siblings her role on the Sanctuary wasn’t considered to be of critical importance.

So here she was. Babysitting.

The Jotun groaned. It was a soft noise, but it was enough to rip Eija’s attention away from her shoes. He shifted against his restraints, but there was no force behind the movements.

“Hey,” she called. “Are you awake?” She shouldn’t have been talking to the prisoner. Somehow, she knew Lord Thanos wouldn’t like it if he were to find out. Still, the metallic room housed a lonely existence, and Eija was desperate for any kind of distraction.

Although the prisoner didn’t exactly seem to be the ideal conversation partner. He flinched at the sound of her voice, his feeble movement falling still as abruptly as it began. Perhaps she should have gone back to her laces, but Eija was intrigued. She left her stool to stand before the Jotun, peering down at him through his shackles.

“Are you awake?” she asked again. He didn’t respond. His eyes were closed, his head hanging limply against his shoulders, as if he hadn’t just been rustling about. The thought of some grand Jotun (Asgardian?) prince trying to trick her by playing dead was so comical that Eija had to bite back her laugh.

“Hey,” she said instead, trying to add some of that Black Order sharpness to her voice as she tapped his arm. “Knock it off. I know you’re awake.”

He looked up at her then, his movement slow and labored. It almost made her wince, just looking at the way he struggled to open his bloodshot eyes. Lord Thanos had allowed Proxima charge of the Jotun today, and she had clearly made the most of it—his face was so swollen that she never would have recognized the man Corvus had pulled out of the depths of space only a week ago.

“What do you want?” he whispered, voice low and hoarse. He was making a valiant effort to control his breathing, but Eija knew the look of fear when she saw it. She had seen it in the faces of almost everyone who found themselves in the presence of Lord Thanos and his children, although those faces were never focused on her. This must have been the first time she was the cause of such terror.

It was an odd feeling. Eija wasn’t sure she liked it.

She shrugged, dropping the serious tone. “I just wanted to talk to someone. It gets very dull in here.”

The prisoner only stared at her.

No, not the ideal conversation partner at all.

Eija sighed. It seemed she’d be returning to her shoelaces in short time after all.

“Can you tell me your name at least?” she asked. No one had mentioned it yet, and Eija had been afraid to inquire. Lord Thanos hadn’t been particularly happy when he gave her this assignment—his anger had been more directed at Proxima, for nearly killing the prisoner, but Eija didn’t want to give him a reason to turn on her. She wasn’t often the target of the Mad Titan’s fury, but the few times she was were enough of a lesson for a lifetime.

But the Jotun made no response. “Is this a trick?” he asked finally.

“No. I’m just curious.” A strand of black hair had fallen into his eye. Eija was tempted to brush it away, but she held herself back. “I’ll tell you my name, if it makes you feel better,” she offered.

She waited a moment for him to give some kind of answer. He didn’t.

“Eija,” she said. “My name’s Eija.”

He inhaled. “Did he send you to kill me?”

The question caught her off guard, although perhaps it was fair. “What? No, no I’m just— no,” she stuttered. “I don’t … kill people.”

He eyed her, unconvinced. “Why are you here, then?”

“To make sure you don’t die,” she said. “They were worried, you know.” Proxima had been quite proud of herself. Eija had overheard her bragging to some of the others earlier in the day about how she had the little prince calling out for his mother by the end. They had been laughing about it, how quickly he had succumbed to childish instincts, but the thought intrigued Eija.

She had never known her mother. Before Lord Thanos had found her, she had had no one but herself, scrounging up what food she could from what she stole on the street. She never cried for anyone, no matter how frightened she was. She had no one to cry for.

She wondered what it was like.

“Are you truly not going to tell me your name?” she asked. It was a bit disappointing. She had hoped he’d be at least a little more interesting than this.

He swallowed slowly, painfully. Whereas before it seemed he was afraid to take his eyes off of her, now he seemed unable to meet her gaze.

“Loki,” he finally whispered.

“Loki,” Eija repeated. The name made her smile, although she wasn’t quite sure why it would. “It’s nice to meet you, Loki.”

She asked him more questions as the night went on—questions about his home, his family, his childhood memories. At first, he wouldn’t answer any of them. He’d just stare at her blankly as she posed her queries or whip his head away as if he couldn’t stand to be faced with the words.

So, she changed tactics. She told him about growing up on Knowhere, before Thanos found her, about how when she was not yet six years of age the man she had known as her father dumped her on the side of the road and flew away into permanent obscurity, and about how she taught herself how to reach into another’s pocket and pull out exactly what she was looking for by practicing on the other unsuspecting urchins who lived alongside her on the street. It was strange, to relieve those stories before an audience. Because he was an audience, like it or not. He was listening to every word she said, even more so, she suspected, than he wanted to let on.

When she left that morning, after Corvus came to take over for the day, her throat was so dry she could barely speak. It was a nice kind of dry, though. The Black Order never demanded her voice anyways, so it wasn’t a noticeable inconvenience.

It was worth it.

“You again,” Loki muttered when she slipped into the cell the following evening. “Eija.”

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “You remembered my name!”

“You talked a lot.” He blinked sleepily. “You had a nice voice.”

Eija stopped. She wasn’t certain she heard him incorrectly. “What?”

He yawned. “You had a nice voice.”

She felt a flush rising in her cheeks. It was quite possibly the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her, as ridiculous as it seemed. Eija doubted her siblings could even recognize the sound of her voice—if they did, it would have been to scold her for stepping so far out of line, certainly not to pay her a compliment.

“If you’d like,” she said eagerly, pulling the stool across the room so she could sit next to him. “I can tell you more stories?”

It became the part of the day Eija looked forward to most—the moments where she could talk for hours about anything she wanted, without the ever-present fear of her siblings’ mockery or the Mad Titan’s chastening. It felt … safe, in a way that she hadn’t felt safe before. Warm. She always felt so alone on this ship, wasting away whilst awaiting orders. There were points where even her own thoughts seemed to abandon her to the darkness.

But not here. Not with Loki.

He seemed to enjoy it as well. Of course, she held no illusions that he was quite literally a captive audience, but he listened. He remembered the things she said to him. On good days, he’d even ask her questions, add in thoughts and stories of his own.

“You said you don’t kill people,” he asked suddenly, on one such visit. “Did you mean that?”

Eija shifted uncomfortably. This had always been an awkward subject. “Yes,” she said. “I’m not an assassin. I don’t have the training.”

“What do you do here, then?”

She inhaled. “Steal things.”

“Steal things?” he repeated. “What kind of things?”

Eija shrugged. “Anything he wants,” she said. “Weapons, passkeys, precious gems—whatever.” She remembered that day, when Lord Thanos had taken her from the streets to his ship, what he had said as she devoured the soup his servant placed in front of her.

“I have more trained killers than I know what to do with,” he told her. “But perhaps I could use a sneak thief.”

Eija had agreed to everything he said— it wasn’t as if she was in any position to refuse him, and besides, anything had to be better than sleeping in a trash bin. And so, she became the Titan’s personal retriever, sneaking her way across the galaxy and returning with the treasures he coveted in her pockets. Her methods were straight and to the point. She was in and out before anyone even noticed her presence, and, unlike her adopted siblings, there wasn’t a trail of bodies left in her wake.

“But if your role is to steal things,” Loki asked. “Then what are you doing with me?”

Eija didn’t answer right away. Thanos had not ordered her to continue her night watch over the Jotun prisoner. He hadn’t said that she couldn’t, but she was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be pleased to find that she had. What was she doing here?

“I just like to talk to somebody, I guess,” she said. “Besides, somebody has to make sure you make it through the night.”

Although it became exceedingly clear with each passing day that such a task may be outside of her abilities. One night, she could hear his hacking all the way down the hall, rattling the walls as she rushed to his side. She found him sagging limply against his shackles, soaked in blood and sweat and goodness knows what else as he choked on his own breath.

Eija didn’t know what to do—she could only wipe the blood from his face and hold the bottle of water to his lips.

“What does he want from me?” he croaked, once he could finally speak. There were tears running down the creases of his face, although whether that was from emotion or pain Eija couldn’t be sure. “Why is he doing this to me?”

For once, she said nothing. She had no answer for him.

She tried asking Gamora once. It was no secret that the Zehoberei was Lord Thanos’ favorite—if he were to tell anyone his intentions for the prisoner, it would be her.

But the assassin gave her nothing. “He has a use in mind,” she said. “Don’t question him.”

“But,” Eija hesitated. “If that’s the case, why is he hurting him?” She gulped. “If he has a use for him, shouldn’t he be … using him?”

Gamora glared at her. “If he’s not strong enough to survive this, he’s not strong enough to do Thanos’ bidding.” Her tone lowered in warning. “Remember your place.”

Eija did remember her place. She was reminded of it with every passing moment—leashed to her lord’s beck and call, every day walking that delicate tightrope of anticipating his wishes without asserting herself too far in his eyes, living in fear of the day when the bottom finally fell through and he decided to unsheathe the blade at his waist.

Was this his plan for Loki as well? Torture him to death’s edge until it pleased him to make him yet another glorified slave? She thought of Loki, shackled to his chair, heaving and coughing up blood, sentenced to wither away until Thanos found use for him … for what? The mere crime of existence?

And here she was, letting it happen, watching as Thanos sucked the life out of him, simply using him as a receptacle to her own selfish need for attention.

She was just as awful.

But there was nothing she could do about it. Was there?

Unless …

The thought started as a hypothetical. Isn’t that how all treason began? A tiny what-if, buried under one’s daily worries? The hangers of the Sanctuary were hardly well-guarded. There was little reason to guard them, after all—few on this vessel had cause to sneak off of it, and those who did hadn’t the opportunity. And with the current position they had been holding the last few days, only a small way from the Krylor jump point, which could then take you down through one of the major galactical traffic-ways …

Stealing a ship would be almost too easy.

It wouldn’t work, she told herself as she stood amongst her siblings in Thanos’ court. The ship was one thing, the passenger was something else entirely. Loki’s chains were specifically designed by the Mad Titan to stifle the magic of that whom they held. They were the very definition of unbreakable. And the key—Thanos kept it on his person at all times, hooked to his belt alongside his blades. Any scheme was doomed to fail.

But sometimes, opportunities present themselves.

“And where are you going, child?”

Eija jumped out of her skin when she turned the corner and nearly collided with the lord himself. It took her a moment to find her voice.

“To watch over the prisoner, as you ordered, sir.”

He frowned. “That was weeks ago. You’re not still doing that now?”

She bit her tongue, so hard it hurt. “W-with all due respect sir, you never told me to stop.”

“Well, I’m telling you now. Such action is no longer necessary.”

“Yes sir.” She nodded. “Apologies, sir.”

Eija stood there shaking long after he had continued down the hall. Her heart felt as if it might pound its way out of her chest. He had to have noticed. In a moment, he’d come storming back up the corridor, grab her by her neck, and crush her skull against the wall.

But he never did.

It was just Eija, alone in the hallway, clutching the golden key between her trembling fingers.

There was little time. Her theft could only go overlooked for so long. She didn’t have the chance to question herself as she rushed to Loki’s cell—any moment spent in doubt was a moment wasted.

Loki seemed to be unconscious when she first arrived at his side, but he popped up with a start the moment she reached for his chains.

“What—" he gasped, eyes wild. “What’s happening?”

The key clicked in the lock. He heaved a breath, falling forward as the shackles fell open.

“You’re going home.” Eija’s mind was racing at a mile a minute. They couldn’t steal a Q-ship—it was too big; they’d would be noticed immediately … “Can you fly a pod?” she asked.

He gulped. “Possibly?”

“Good enough.” She pulled him to his feet. It was at this moment she became aware of the fact that she had only every seen him seated. Loki was tall. Much, much taller than her, and when he sagged against her it took all of her strength to keep him from tumbling to the metallic floor. For a moment she feared that he was too weak to even stand on his own and nearly panicked, because oh goodness how was she supposed to carry him all the way to the hanger—

But he managed to stabilize himself, gripping her shoulder so tightly that she lost feeling in it, but standing on his own. Slowly, she was able to walk him into the hallway.

The hanger was only a few floors above them, but the elevator ride felt like an eternity.

Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop …

If it stopped before they reached their destination, they were both dead.

Besides her, Loki’s breathing was labored. He hadn’t said anything since she had come to get him.

She squeezed his forearm, hoping he couldn’t feel how she was trembling like a leaf. “You alright?”

He nodded weakly. “I assume you have a plan?”

“The pods are lined on the far wall of the hanger.” She inhaled. “When the door opens, we run like mad and get you on one. And then you take off for the jump point, and don’t stop until you’ve hit traffic.”

Loki turned to her, brow furrowed. “What about you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yes. Surely you’ll not stay here?”

Eija gulped. There wasn’t time to think about that now.

The elevator doors clicked open to reveal a thicket of barbed shadows and twisted metal. The hanger was lifeless and barren this time of night, lit only by the glow of the cosmos streaming in through the glass. They made their way in perfect silence, the only sound being the pounding of her heartbeat behind her eardrums. Every dark shape seemed like a waiting figure. Now, it was Eija that clung to him too tightly, terrified that at any moment someone would jump out and rip him from her grasp. By the time they reached their destination, they were both wildly out of breath.

The pods were small, thin one-man transports. Calling them ships was really being too generous. They weren’t really meant for long term travel, but they could work for a few jumps—long enough to get to civilized airspace, which was all he needed. She helped Loki into the compartment, careful to keep him from hitting his head on the low ceiling. This damn ship had caused him enough pain already.

He sighed, leaning against the seat in one short moment of rest before turning back to her. “You still haven’t said what you plan to do.”

Eija hesitated. What could she plan to do? She had nothing waiting for her beyond this ship. As with all of his children, Thanos held a piece of her that he would never relinquish, no matter how far she flew.

“I’ll stay here,” she murmured. “For now, at least. They might pick up on something if too much is out of place.”

“But—"

“Please,” Eija hissed. “You remember what I said, right? Take the Krylor jump, and just keep towards Xandar.” She inhaled so deeply it hurt, trying to bury the aching dread building in her chest. “Stay with the crowds whenever you can—he won’t bother with you if it means he has to go through heavy populations.”

Loki nodded, but she wasn’t certain he was listening. There was a sadness behind his eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul. He squeezed her hand, pressing her knuckles to his lips in the lightest of kisses.

“Thank you, Eija,” he whispered. “May fate be kind to you.”

…

The alarm went off some hours later, when morning dawned upon an empty cell. They came for her only minutes after. Eija hadn’t been certain of what she would do—would she scream when they broke down her door? Cry for help? Fight for her life? But as the Black Order filed into her room with their weapons drawn, Eija felt only an overwhelming calm. It was good that they were here. The longer they spent with her, the more of a chance Loki had of getting away.

She went with her adoptive siblings willingly.

They took her to the same tiny room where this had all begun, shackled her to the same chair she had watched over so diligently. Eija barely registered it.

Surely, Loki was hundreds of star systems away from here now.

Surely he was safe.

When the pain did come, it filled every fiber of her being, burning through her body as if she were nothing but dry kindling. Her vision bled white. Her screams ripped her throat raw.

They asked no questions. She was relieved for that at least, because her every coherent thought shattered to pieces long before it could reach her lips.

She understood now why Loki had cried for his mother. She would have too, had she a mother to cry for. Instead, she just cried.

Eija wasn’t certain how much time had passed before he arrived. It could have been hours, it could have been months, but at some point when she dragged her aching head to look up she found Lord Thanos staring down at her, the stony weight of disappointment heavy on his features.

Gamora stood next to him. She spared a glance at her former sister, softer, sadder, almost sympathetic, before she turned back to her father.

“Sir, the Jotun is out of tracking range. There’s nothing we can do at this point.”

Out of range.

Eija thought of Loki, raven hair streaming in the breeze behind him as he pulled himself out of the craft, safe on some green, luscious, faraway planet that the Black Order could never reach. She smiled, blood dripping from her lips.

Thanos’ expression remained immovable.

“Well, child,” he finally said, looking down at her as he caressed the glinting hilt at his waist. “Look upon this mess. See what you have done. Are you happy now?” He reached out with his other hand, tipping her chin up towards him with a single finger, as if the mere thought of touching her disgusted him. “You look happy.”

Eija felt a laugh tickle her throat. It came out as more of a cough, blood and bile staining her tongue. Still, she could not bring herself to stop smiling.

“I am happy, sir.”

It was true. A beautiful warmth flooded her aching chest. She laughed again, closing her eyes and letting the feeling wash over her.

She was still laughing when the blade severed her throat.

#lucywrites19 #loki marvel #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #happiness #cozy writes

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ejzah · 3 years

Note

Can you do a fanfic where Mosley retuns and seeks the team’s help, but as you can imagine they aren’t too happy to see her, especially a certain former detective and his wife/partner.

A/N: I’ve received a lot of Mosley related prompts recently, so I’m going to try and spread them out. Also, since it’s been a few years and I’ve written quite a lot of fics with her, I’m going to lean on the slightly less negative side with this one.

***

An Unlikely Reunion

“Hey, Kensi and I were talking about going up to Mammoth for the weekend,” Deeks started, nudging Sam’s shoulder in between typing reports. “You guys want to join us?”

“I’ve heard about what happens during your skiing trips,” Sam answered with, shaking his head. “I’ll pass.”

“You make it sound like we can’t control ourselves,” Kensi said, sounding insulted.

“Exactly. Since you two started dating, there hasn’t been a week where I haven’t walked in on something I will never be able to unsee.”

“That’s-”

Eric whistled sharply, cutting Deeks short as he appeared on the middle landing with Nell just behind him.

“Guys, uh, we have a visitor,” he told them, wearing an expression Deeks couldn’t quite decipher.

“Somebody from D.C.?” Callen asked.

“No, it’s former EAD Mosley,” Nell said, a worry line forming between her eyes.

“I thought she was in hiding with her son,” Kensi said, sharing a concerned glance with Deeks. “What’s she doing here?”

“No idea,” Eric said with a shake of his head. “She just asked to speak to the team and said it was important.”

“What do you guys think?” Deeks was surprised by the question, having expected Callen to immediately concede to her request. Especially after the last time.

“I think we should at listen to what she has to say,” Sam decided, glancing over at Deeks and Kensi. He realized that most of the focus was on them. That they were being given the opportunity to make the final decision, either way.

Ideally, he’d rather not have any further dealings with Shay Mosley. He’d come to terms with her actions and the aftermath of Mexico, but he still was wary of her. Kensi came to stand next to him and took his hand.

“You ok with it, Kens?”

“Yeah, let’s see what she wants,” she answered with forced lightness and Deeks regarded with a concerned glance. She just shook her head, nodding to Eric and Nell. “Let her in.”

A couple minutes later, they stood in the entryway, a united front against their visitor. Sam opened the door, revealing Mosley, dressed in jeans' t-shirt, and gym shoes. It was probably the most casual Deeks had ever seen her outside of Mexico. He’d forgotten how small she was, especially without the armor of a designer dress and stilettos.

“Mosley,” Sam greeted her cautiously. “What brings you here? Eric said you need to speak to us.” She walked in before answering, eyeing each of them in turn. She lingered on Deeks and Kensi for a moment longer than everyone else.

“Yes.” Heaving a deep sigh, she added, “I’m sure that none of us are exactly pleased about that, least of all me. But unfortunately I do need your help.”

“At the risk of being petty, the last time we helped you didn’t go so well,” Deeks pointed out. “Three of us nearly died.”

“And for that I am truly sorry,” Mosley said with what seemed like sincerity. “I wouldn’t come here if it wasn’t for Derrick. I-“

“Did something happen to him?” Kensi asked quickly, resting her hand on Deeks forearm.

“My son is perfectly fine.” Deeks felt some of the tension leave Kensi’s body at Mosley’s confirmation. “I’m not sure he will be in the near future though, which is why I came here.”

“Well, at least there’s that,” Deeks said wryly.

“Alright, so tell us what’s going on,” Callen prompted, arms crossed over his chest. He seemed more wary than Deeks had anticipated. “We’re not agreeing to anything until we know the whole story.

“I will explain everything, but first I’d like to speak with Kensi and Deeks,” Mosley said, completely surprising him. She paused expectantly and then when no one moved, added, “Alone.”

***

A\N: Did I need to make this two parts? Probably not, but I couldn’t figure out an ending yet.

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #team fic #Mosley #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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yuzukult · 3 years

Note

HAPPY 2K BENCH !! you deserve the whole world yk :( you deserve every single one of those followers + a million more !!!

i got a few questions for you :D it's a lot but <33 <3 <3 they're fun questions i swear </3 i even put a little husna flare to em if you couldn't tell KWHKAJSD

1. if you could live in a fictional world, which one would you live in?

2. it's the zombie apocalypse !! (of course there's gonna be a zombie apocalypse question, thisis me we're asking) which one of my tumblr moots would you want to help you survive? other than me, of course, that'd be cheating.

3. what was your favorite childhood snack?

4. which marvel character is your favorite? talk to me about your fav marvel movie, your least fav marvel movie / show, and what you think about marvel's time traveling concept.

5. what are some of the worst movies you've watched?

6. what do you think is the best thing you've ever written? ik it's hard to choose, all your writing's amazing.

7. what kind of superpower would you want? do you think you'd make a good superhero?

8. what are some deal-breakers for you when it comes to relationships, whether it be romantic or platonic?

9. rant to me about a show you're watching <3

10. any advice for the kids who are pursuing the stem branch? aka me #lolzies

im gonna stop at 10 qs but !!! happy 2k to user @/gyukult aha :fboi:

:( you’re too nice husna even though i hate you and bash on you everyday

f-fun? i hope so.... or else i’m going into this and crying because your questions stress me out. just kidding or whatever is that how people tell jokes

i answered them below the read more bc it got long LOL

ask me questions for my 2k q&a!!

1. hm. like based off a movie or whatever? i wanna live in the marvel cinematic universe. do you think bucky or steve will notice me? also, wouldn’t it be so interesting to live in a world where there’s these people that call themselves ‘the Avengers’ and dress in colorful spandex or weird robotic armor? (i hope i answered this right.)

2. hm. can i be honest? the rest of gta are a bunch of weaklings and i don’t think any of them could help me survive. they might kill me first actually and it be by accident. if i had to give an answer, jae.

3. i used to live in an area where there were corner stores, and back in the day, snacks were like 25cents a pop but that’s another story for another time. i used to eat a lot of Little Debbies snacks so I would eat like those oatmeal creme pies, the cosmo brownies and the zebra cakes !!!

4. steve rogers but,, you knew that. class A hottie amirite i honestly feel like i’d have to go back and rewatch all those movies a second time (the last time i did that was before infinity war) but i honestly did really like infinity war & end game? i think watching all those movies throughout all those years and then seeing those two movies it just .... hit different. like i think if you didn’t watch any marvel movies and just watched those two, it wouldn’t feel the same way it hit us??? (remember, peter,,, with,,,, tony....) UGH I HATED CAPTAIN MARVEL !!! DID THEY ONLY MAKE THAT MOVIE JUST TO FULFILL THE “FEMALE EMPOWERMENT” AGENDA AND THEN DIDN’T THINK OF HTE PLOT!?!?!?!??!?! I’ M SO MA D?!!?!/ honestly. i’m not sure. i think i’m not the type to pick out a lot of stuff in films but at the same time...... i notice..... a lot of gaps in between things yet at the same time i never care enough to speak up about it? but maybe i can pick your brain on it another day. :D

5. sierra burgess is a loser. to all the boys i’ve loved 3. f9. wonder woman 1984. captain marvel. the new adaption for mulan. tall girl. i probably had way more honestly because you know how i love watching bad movies to give them the benefit of the doubt then being disappointed.

6. this is hard !! but i’m torn between after midnight and hello. i say after midnight because it’s out of my comfort zone to write anything fwd (it’s honestly kind of hard) but i managed to push through that and made it work! and i say hello because it’s one of my first long length fics and it just. i love the meaning behind it and it always has a place in my heart. :(

7. i think i wouldn’t make a good superhero tbh LOL i’m like an anti-hero or something LMFAO but if i were to have a superpower, probably super strength. no reason. just wanna throw stuff around.

8. i’m really big on honesty and respect. if my feet stinks, please tell me. but also there’s just something about respect from both friends and a significant other that i prioritize!! some things about a person’s personality can’t be forced to change, and that’s fine, but if they can’t be at least honest or respectful towards me, which btw is the bare minimum, consider yourself cut off.

9. !!! i’m only watching kitchen nightmares rn !! LMFAO but honestly i get so mad when people waste gordon’s time or act like he’s here for himself when they’re the ones who asked to be on the show??/ like hello did you forget you wrote into the show so you could be helped??? hello???? also i can’t help but wonder like how much time did he spend away from family bc of shows like these only to have ungrateful bitches out here smfh

10. LOL STEM !! i love stem even though i hate it. i think something to keep in mind is that there’s an end goal to this. throughout the ride, you’re gonna feel discouraged and feel like this isn’t for anything. but remember why you did it in the first place. and is it worth it? because that’s how i felt often but i remember taking those trips to job-site tours to see construction in progress, and i’m like yeah. this is why. i like this. i wanna work in this in the future. and i think it’s easy to forget what you’re working for during the obstacles because your head is only wrapped around that and whatever is in the moment, but just remember to step back, breathe and try to remember what you’re in this for !!

and even if you’re not 100% solid in what you like, don’t forget to try out different things even if they’re not pertaining to your major. you’re young, you have time to figure things out, and when you discover you don’t like something, great! that scratches off one thing on your list. now you’re one step closer to finding something you like.

#replies #:D #that was long

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anakin-danvers · 4 years

Text

to wish upon a star

Rex x gender neutral!reader

Request: “For a fic, from prompt list #2, "Look! A shooting star! Make a wish," with any character you want to write from the Star Wars prequel trilogy? (Not entirely sure who you write for, do I'll leave it up to you.)” as requested by @valkyriesandbrokenhalos

Description: While on a mission in your home world, you take the time to enjoy the night sky. To your surprise, a certain Clone Captain decides to join you.

Word count: ~2.2 k

Warnings: Fluff. This is pure and utter all fluff. Some drinking! Tinyyyyy bit of angst if you squint to see it. Also, first time writing for our boy Rex so please be kind!

A/N: I decided to do Rex for this fic after a suggestion from @acnini (also special shoutout to her for beta reading 💖)! I hope you all like it, especially you Aro! Thank you for participating in my celebration! 🥳💗

P.S. I have another Rex request I am working on which will most likely be a part 2 for this!!

tags: @acnini , @catsnkooks , @kaminobiwan

—

Sitting in a dinner hall in a table full of tipsy clones was not what you imagined you’d be doing when General Skywalker told you to pack your bag for the mission this morning. But here you are, in your home planet, eating delicacies you’d only dreamt of as a child.

Music bounces off the walls, not loud enough to hurt your ears, but definitely loud enough to make it hard to think. You look around, feeling a bit overwhelmed with the setting you are in. Usually, you wouldn’t be attending these sorts of things; your position as an engineer for the 501st allowed you to stand on the sidelines, focus on your job and nothing more. But this is a special mission. The meeting General Skywalker has is with none other than the head of foreign operations of your home world Elzu.

The small planet could have been as beautiful as Naboo, were it not for the exploitation of natural resources by the government. By the time Elzu joined the Republic, it was drastically divided. Those who had been part of the group exploiting the resources are still the ones in power now. The rest are left to fend for themselves, many immigrating to other planets in search of a better livelihood. Your parents were part of the latter group, taking you and your siblings to Coruscant when you were about 9 years old. Thanks to their sacrifice and hard work, you now have the job you have.

So when General Skywalker asked if you’d be willing to join him and the 501st to the meeting as a point person for all things Elzu, you were hesitant. Elzu held many bittersweet memories, and you’d only been back a handful of times since your family had left all those years ago. General Skywalker had sensed your hesitation, and asked if instead you could help by giving him a list of the customs of the planet. However, as you were writing the list, you thought back to all the ways Skywalker and the 501st had helped you get to where you are, and knew that the least you could do was help with the trip in person. Though now that you’re here, you’re starting to wish you’d just stuck to the list.

The boisterous laugh of Fives rips you from your thoughts. You blink a few times in an attempt to refocus on the present. You turn to look at Fives, who’s sitting at your table, in an attempt to see what he’s laughing at. When your eyes travel around the other clones in your table and settle on a rather flustered looking Dogma, you have an idea of what Five’s source of entertainment currently is.

In spite of your otherwise uncomfortable feelings, you can’t help but smile. It was rare that the clones of the 501st were so at ease while on a mission. Seeing them all gathered in the main dinner hall enjoying good food made you happy, especially knowing this type of mission would be one of a kind.

The eating and socializing continues, and though you converse with the clones around you, you mostly stay quiet. After deciding you’d had enough to eat, you excuse yourself and walk out of the dinner hall.

You hate to admit it, but the palace you’re currently in is gorgeous. The large and intricate structure was built from different Elzian resources, Elzian marble being the most predominant. As you mindlessly walk down the hallway, you stay close to the wall, the smooth walls leaving a cool sensation on your fingertips. You keep walking around, not really knowing where you intend on going. That is, until you spot a sliver of the night sky.

Your feet make their way to the landing deck on its own. It isn’t until you feel the cool night breeze on your skin that you realize just how hot it is inside. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you step out onto the seemingly unused landing deck. You almost gasp at the sight; the height of the deck makes you feel as if you’re in the sky.

If there was one thing you’d always miss most about Elzu, it’s the sky. It’s easy to forget that there’s even a sky in Coruscant due to the endless bustle of traffic. But that isn’t the case here. No, here, the sky is clear, the stars densely decorating it to look like the most royal of sparkling gowns.

You take a seat directly on the landing deck, sprawling your legs out in front of you and placing your hands on the durasteel ground. Maker, you can almost reach out and touch the stars, pick them like the fruit of a tree, with how close they seem.

“Beautiful night.”

If you weren’t sitting, you would have jumped at the sudden voice behind you. However, as the initial shock leaves you, you recognize the voice, a deep honey voice you never get tired of hearing.

Footsteps approach you, and you can feel them under your palms. They stop as two white and blue armored legs appear next to you. Your eyes follow the legs up to their owner’s face, the brown skin and blonde hair of your favorite person making the feeling of a thousand pairs of wings erupt in your stomach.

“Rex.”

“How are you, nau?”

At the sound of his tone, you know he can tell you’re not feeling your best. You also know there’s no point in trying to convince him otherwise.

“I’m doing okay, given the circumstances,” you say.

Lightly dropping his helmet to his side, he takes a seat next to you. You look at him as he mimics the way you’re sitting, legs spread out in front of him, hands on either side of him. And honestly, you can’t help but admire just how beautiful he looks.

Your eyes move from where you see his legs brushing your own, landing instead on his face. You find him looking at you, concern etched onto his features.

“You know how I feel about this place, Rex. It doesn’t hold the best memories,” you finally say.

“I know,” he simply says.

He knows. Of course he knows. He knows because he’s been by your side when you’ve had a few too many drinks at 79’s and spilled all about your childhood hardships. He knows because he’s been by your side when you try to discreetly get information on how the less fortunate of Elzu are holding up with the war. He knows because he’s always been there, with you.

Relief washes over you when you realize you don’t have to explain all the feelings caused by being on Elzu. Bringing up your legs to hug them to your chest, you look up at the sky again, the smile from earlier returning.

“Have you ever heard of shooting stars?”

“Shooting stars?” At his question, you nod. “I haven’t, nau.”

“Well you’re in for a treat tonight.”

His brow raises, and a faint smile paints his face. “Is that right?”

You nod again. “Elzu is known for its shooting stars, sometimes called flying stars. The people of Elzu believe they’re the souls of beings who have passed all around the galaxy as they make their way to their final resting spot. Legend has it they grant wishes.”

Rex laughs lightly, not in a mocking way, but rather in a surprised way. For someone who’s usually surrounded by so many facts, Rex doesn’t expect you to be so invested in old tales.

“Hey, I’m being serious!” you say, a laugh coming out of you as well. “I used to make a wish every night when I was a kid.”

Rex won’t ask what you wished, you know that. He doesn’t want to impose, pour salt on the wound that is already being constantly poked at while being here in Elzu. But either way, you continue, part of you needing to tell him what you wished for all those years ago.

“I’d initially wish for childish things; a new toy or the chance to taste one of those many pastries they have inside. But then the guilt would creep in, and instead I’d wish for the star to bring my family and I stability. Not riches, those weren’t necessary, just stability. Food on the table, a roof over our heads, shoes on our feet. And the next night I’d do the same again: wish for something childish then scrap it for a worthwhile wish.”

As you finish, you don’t know what you expect Rex to say. You don’t know if you even expect him to say anything. And initially he doesn’t, he sits there next to you in silence looking up at the same sky you’d stare at endlessly as a child.

“Ca’tra.”

You turn to look at him, the word foreign to your ears. For the most part, you knew the phrases of his native Mando’a he’d speak around you. Nau, for example, was what he called you, a nickname of sorts. He’s told you it means light, a nod to the way you two initially met during a blackout on a ship you’d been working on, a flashlight in hand as you bumped in face first to his chest. But ca’tra you didn’t know, so you waited for him to continue.

“It means ‘night sky’,” he explains, and you make a mental note to add that to the list of Mando’a words you have written on your data pad. “I often gazed up at the night sky back in Kamino growing up. It brought me calm whenever I’d feel...uneasy.”

“Ca’tra.” You test the word in your mouth, hoping you pronounced it correctly. At his smile and nod, your heart blooms with pride.

“And though we have no word for shooting star, we do have ka’ra, which means stars.”

Another word to add to the list, you think.

Your eyes go back to the sky, and almost as if on queue, you see the flash of light that filled you with hope as a child.

“Look! A shooting star! Make a wish,” you say, closing your eyes to mentally make your own. You wish for progress in the war with as little casualties as possible, you wish for his safety. A whisper of a thought adds another part to the wish: I wish for Rex to stay by my side.

You open your eyes slowly, glancing over at Rex to see if he’s done with his wish. Only, you don’t find him with his eyes closed as you’d had them. He’s not even looking up at the sky. No, he’s looking at you.

For a split second, you forget how to breathe at the sight of his beautiful eyes on you. Taking a small breath, you speak.

“Did you make a wish?” You don’t intend for your voice to be a whisper, but with the way he’s looking at you, you don’t manage anything else.

Rex nods. “Yes, I did.”

You want to ask what it is, but know that the way wishes come true is by keeping them to yourself.

“Well,” you say, your hand seemingly moving on its own will as it lands on top of his. “I hope your wish comes true.”

“I hope so too,” he responds.

You turn back to look at the sky, your hand still on Rex’s. And maybe it’s the glass of Elzian wine you drank, or the fact that you’re looking up at the night sky you spent your whole childhood wishing under, or even the drunken state Rex causes you to be in regardless of the amount of alcohol in your system, but you think you know what Rex wished for. Well, you hope you know what he wished for.

As if to put your mind at ease and to confirm your thoughts all at once, Rex moves his hand so that he’s now holding yours. The cool feeling of the durasteel you both are sitting on makes for a sharp contrast to just how warm his hand feels on your own. Before you have time to process his actions, he hits you with another jolt of electricity when he softly squeezes your hand.

You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling, because you’re smiling too. You’re smiling the smile that only appears whenever Rex is with you, by your side, safe.

And as the two of you sit under the night sky, you don’t feel the guilt you’d expected to feel at the last addition to your wish. It’s a bit selfish, you admit, wishing for something exclusively for you. But you don’t, can’t feel guilt when all you feel is warm, kind love with Rex by your side.

When the next shooting star paints the sky, you once again wish for Rex to stay by your side, nothing more, nothing less.

#all I want is for rex to hold my hand while we look up at the night skyyyyy #hope you all enjoy!#chasity reaches 100!🥳#captain rex x reader #captain rex imagine #captain rex x you #captain rex x y/n #captain rex fanfic #captain rex fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #captain rex reader insert #userkarina #usernobie #chasity's work #my work #gender neutral reader #anakin-danvers work

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whatapunk · 3 years

Text

Sooo... I finally decided to start my Kanan/ex-girlfriend fic that I've been writing in my head for weeks. I haven't written fanfiction (or anything fun) in a very long time so this took some real motivation (and unconditional love for Kanan/Kanera).

It is set at the very beginning of Season 2, when the Spectres have joined Phoenix Crew and Kanan is looking for anything to distract him from the formalities of military life. "Anything" including his ex-girlfriend Rhia Denley, current member of Phoenix Crew. This fic will reflect the battle between my love for Kanera and my need to write about Kanan’s love life in general in the only way I see fitting: through a love triangle!

This is just a taste for the first bit, but I hope to keep going!

Title: Endings

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Relationship: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla; Kanan Jarrus/female OC

Rating: t for now, m in future chapters (I'm guessing) for language and some non-explicit intimacy

Word Count: 1688

Chapter 1

Everywhere people walked, trotted, and ran into and out of Kanan’s line of vision. They criss-crossed in every single direction, yet everyone managed to stay out of each other’s way for the most part. It was suffocating, Kanan thought. So many people, faces, ranks and titles. He’d only been working aboard the Liberator for a few standard weeks (long enough, in his opinion), but he’d already given up on trying to remember the ranking system, let alone the specific rank of each rebel. He’d taken to walking behind Hera any time they were aboard the vessel, and when she saluted someone, he, begrudgingly, did the same. Otherwise, he stayed aboard Ghost as often as he could.

Hera was in front of him now, and the kids- Zeb, Sabine, and Ezra- followed close by. Kanan felt bad; she’d been explaining what she wanted to do differently the next time they were on a similar “cargo-thieving” mission as the one they’d just returned from, and he’d all but started ignoring her. It was entirely his fault, he felt. He couldn’t hear himself think over all of the people in the bay and the intercom that seemed to always be seeking out someone.

Hera could sense that Kanan wasn’t really paying attention, but she was mostly talking to herself right now. She always felt better when she could explain things out loud, even if it was only to herself.

“Well I thought the mission went pretty well,” Ezra spoke up, shaking Hera out of her thoughts. Turns out one of them was listening.

“It’s not that it didn’t go well, Ezra,” Hera added, gently. “I’m just saying there’s always room for improvement.”

Several droids, each carrying a large crate, crossed in front of the Spectres, forcing Hera to stop abruptly and Kanan, who was so focused on watching everything else, bumped into her.

“This place is a madhouse. Why do we need to talk to Sato? Didn’t he just watch everything that just happened? Wasn’t he there?” Kanan said, letting more frustration than was warranted slip out. He frowned and Hera turned and matched the look.

“Kanan, it’s standard protocol to debrief with our commanding officer after…”

Kanan checked out at “protocol.” It seemed like these kinds of things were all Hera talked about these days. He hadn’t felt so restricted in years, nor had he felt like he had to compete for Hera’s attention (more than normal) in years. She was still talking when something caught Kanan’s eye and pulled his gaze and his feet to an abrupt stop.

A glimpse of red, he thought, the kind of which he hadn’t seen in years. Seven of them, to be exact.

A glimpse was all it was though. His eyes searched for where it had come from, but there were easily a hundred personnel in any given direction. Five stacks of crates rose and floated by, presumably carried by five people eclipsed on the other side of them. They formed a wall as they passed that effectively obstructed his view of the crowd of people in which he thought he spotted the red hair.

“Kanan?” Hera touched his arm, and his attention returned to her.

“What are you doing?” He glanced back over the sea of people, not ready to admit he hadn’t seen anything.

“I thought I saw....” Kanan trailed off, searching… searching…

“Who do you know in Phoenix Cell?” Hera asked, disbelief and a joking edge surrounding her words. That got Kanan to look at her, his usual smirk back on his face. Hera thought briefly how she hadn’t seen such a face lately, and then the thought was passed up by a million others.

“No one, that I know of,” he said, giving Hera a smile and walking back over to the others who waited, confused. Just as he was ready to get his mind back on the Spectres and whatever mundane, soul-crushing aspect of Phoenix Cell awaited him, there it was again- a flash of the most unique and memorable shade of red Kanan had ever seen. Only this time it wasn’t just a flash, and it was connected to the head and body of one of the people who had just set down one of the large stacks of crates. Kanan stared at the woman, mouth starting to fall open, and almost let her return to the crowd, lost, before he forced a single word onto his tongue.

“Rhia?!” *** Rhia Denley grunted as her arms lifted a crate over her head and locked it into the stack that rose before her. Bashi said something next to her that still wasn’t loud enough for her to hear it (she’d been telling him to speak up since she reported this morning).

“What, Bashi?” she snapped, and the Mythrol pursed his blue lips, hearing the edge in her voice.

“I was saying,” Bashi started, then remembered to amplify his voice even more, “all of the carrier droids have been checked out, so I could only get three of them. So you and I just need to move these two stacks to the drop zone on the other side of the bay where someone else’s droids will see them and grab them.” Rhia smiled, feeling guilty for snapping and also appreciative that he’d finally spoken loud enough for her to hear him.

“Gotcha. Sorry, Bash, you know this place is an echo chamber. I’m already old and hard of hearing,” she joked, giving him a punch in the arm. He smiled and nodded as he typed in directions on the last carrier droid next to them. The droid revved and began lifting the stack; only, it’s motor whined and sputtered, nearly collapsing and bringing the stack of crates tumbling. Before either Rhia or Bashi could react, the droid’s engines fully kicked in and its back thruster let out a gust of warm exhaust that sent a few bits of Rhia’s pinned-back hair flailing. She frowned, pushed the pieces behind her ears, and squatted, ready to lift her stack.

“Don’t forget,” she started, glancing sideways at Bashi who had started to bend forward to grab his crates, “lift with your knees.” She snapped upright, her stack in her arms and her legs feeling underprepared. She would have grabbed an anti-grav platform if she’d known she’d be in charge of the heavy-lifting. Bashi’s recent words floated through her mind at that thought; if droids were in short supply, everything else useful probably was too.

Rhia couldn’t really see where she was going but she was able to sneak her head out from the side of her stack and kept up with the droid in front of her. When she saw the yellow-outlined square appear under her feet, signalling a drop zone, she brought her stack to the floor again. Her legs felt shaky, reminding her she really should adhere to the volunteer fitness regimes more. She stood up and saw Bashi’s shaky stack show up right next to hers. Clearly, the Mythrol had struggled with the weight as well.

“Bashi, I think you and I had better hit the running machine more if the Rebellion gets any bigger.” He looked at her, confused. “There won’t be any droids left to save our legs,” she added, smiling. Bashi grinned, letting a quiet chuckle out, and began walking back into the crowd in the main part of the bay. Rhia began to follow when someone unfamiliar called her name, just her first name, and she looked back over her shoulder.

“Rhia?!”

There stood a man with a small beard and ponytail, wearing green shoulder armor that extended down his right arm. He was several years older than the last time she had seen him, to be sure, but there was no doubt- the man was Kanan Jarrus.

“Kanan?” Rhia asked, just as stunned as he had been. Around them, organized chaos continued, monotonous calls came steadily over the intercom, and the group of rebels around Kanan all watched intently. However, the two of them only continued to stare. Finally, Rhia spoke first.

“You’re with Phoenix Crew?” she asked, clearly in some sort of disbelief.

“Well… uh…” Kanan drew his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess… We’re new,” he added, gesturing to the Spectres. Rhia’s eyes went to them as he introduced them.

“This is Zeb, Ezra, Sabine, and Hera my- uh, my pilot,” he stammered when he got to Hera, and Rhia could instantly tell why.

Hera frowned ever so slightly and gave Kanan a look out of the corner of her eye at the word “pilot.” Kanan was doing the stammering thing he did when he was pretending to know what he was doing. Clearly, he knew this woman and clearly she was having an affect on him. She didn’t want to be jealous and tried to remind herself that the only reason Kanan had stumbled over what to refer to her as was because of the boundaries surrounding their relationship- boundaries she’d been the one to set. Still, the sight and sound of him now reminded her of the moment they’d met for the first time, back on Gorse all those years ago, and, frankly, she didn’t like it.

“It’s good to meet you,” Rhia said, politely, nodding to the crew. She waited for Kanan (or anyone, really) to speak again, but they stood together in more silence that was quickly becoming awkward. Rhia was trying to think of a quick way to end the encounter when a familiar blue face popped out of the crowd behind Kanan and the others.

“Captain Denley!” Bashi called, a datapad aloft in his hands. Rhia silently thanked him with her eyes for the rescue.

“Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me,” she said, giving a final nod and beginning to walk past them. On her way she paused and placed a soft hand on Kanan’s shoulder. She spoke quietly but not so quiet that it seemed intimate.

“We should catch up,” she said, smiling. And with that she continued past and back into the throng of the bustling service bay.

#idk about it but I'm just so happy I sat down and started #woof #star wars rebels #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #rebels fanfiction #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #zeb orrelios #sabine wren #ezra bridger #kanera #endings

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doorsclosingslowly · 3 years

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tagged by the glorious @sl-walker

How many works do you have on AO3? 44

What’s your total AO3 word count? 265.827

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Star Wars, Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows, Supernatural. If we're counting stuff that never got polished enough to post, Yu-Gi-Oh!, Harry Potter, Cobra Kai, Lord of the Rings, Inu Yasha, .......

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The blue man (Star Wars TFA; Kudos: 547)

Armor (Star Wars TFA; Kudos: 417)

Coarse and irritating (Star Wars TFA; Kudos: 358)

Head shot (Star Wars TFA Kudos: 344)

Reveille (Star Wars TFA; Kudos: 344)

All the same series!

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I respond but sometimes I'm super slow. I do appreciate every single comment and some of them I've read so often I can almost recite them, but I'm not actually good at making the words go (yeah I know I write for fun but that's one of the reasons why I'm such a slow writer, and also I love suffering)

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

They're both about Maul after losing to Sidious, which is such a miserable point in this life already: the one in which I made it Worse aka the OG zombie Savage fic, Coming home early is always a mistake, and then there's Maul decades after, trapped with something that might just be his brother, Keep quite still and wait

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I invent crossovers to torture my best friend. In the last one, Gilgamesh was made Hokage. Generally though, I sometimes enjoy the characters-in-world-from-different-story type but I haven't written anything of the sort. Except! My Supernatural/Mines of Falun crossover. And I'm currently writing a Shadow and Bones fic with a de Sade pastiche in it. Those are my kind of crossover

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I'm not remotely visible enough to get hate I think! Like, I generally get less than 500 hits, so why would anyone bother

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do write sexually explicit fic when the characters vibe with it (like From Each According to Their Ability, To Each According to Their Need which is Jesper/Kaz/Inej) but I would describe it as... more interested in the tenderness you get from being utterly weird in the way that makes your partners feel understood than in sexiness, I guess.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know. As I've said, I am a minuscule slug in a massive ocean

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone asked about translating Your death is a number but I cannot count that high into German! They haven't finished and sent me the link though, and really, I don't envy them. Translation's fucking hard

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I've never had one single favourite for anything in my life! I like way too many things

Whats a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I genuinely plan to finish very single one of my million WIPs posted at some point. Yes, even Epicenter

What are your writing strengths?

Weird set-ups and texture through details maybe? Honestly being positive about myself is hard except in terms of: I do really like the ideas I come up with and how I'm spinning out the implications

What are your writing weaknesses?

Humour is super hard and not my strength, which means the fact I've decided that Jesper is the most interesting character in Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows should be classed as an act of self-harm. Honestly, why. Part of that struggle is that there's so many kinds of funny and in-between working out the character's sense of humour and trying really hard, I sometimes stop caring about what possible readers might find funny as long as I do.

Also, I'm slow. So slow. I plot several fics per week and take weeks to write a chapter

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I've written dialogue in other languages! Maul talking to Jagrub in Your death is a number but I cannot count that high, where Jagrub speaks way better Mando'a than basic and because Maul only half-understands some Mando'a words that's how I wrote it.

Death Watch must be getting impatient. As soon as Maul forces himself to raise his eyes—turning away from the coddling indifference of the holocam—Jagrub starts talking. “Mand’Alor? Vercop’ashnar verborir—” and then she lets out a jumble of other words, even more unfamiliar, before she cuts herself off.

She’s not one of those, usually, who address him directly. Maul understands Death Watch’s tendency to converse in Mando’a—if he is to avoid appearing an outsider and risking another schism, replying in kind is indispensable—but his early training held no space for anything that would not advance the revenge of the Sith, let alone the languages of minor regional hegemons, and neither Kast nor him prioritized resuming the lessons interrupted when Sidious attacked Sundari. Jagrub’s brow bunches up with the effort of simplifying her words to a level he can understand. “We should… Permission to send… scouts to find more of Rook’morut'yc?” A frustrated grunt. “No, what will he… Weapons? Goore.”

Kast glances at Jagrub, and then at Ventress. She must decide the suggestion is urgent, because she explains in Common, “Jagrub is talking of slugthrowers. Impossible to deflect with a lightsaber. Mandalore has not fought a war against the Jedi in centuries, but they were more effective than blasters then, and enough should remain as heirlooms or in museums to furnish our army. A delay of a few days to retrieve them, if you believe that Savage will survive that long. Else, we’ll make do with the five we currently have.”

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I've been spinning off stories from what I've read for as long as I can remember. The first thing I actually wrote and posted was an Inu Yasha fan comic about extremely minor characters the Shichinintai, because even as a thirteen-year-old I was niche

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

I love most of them, but the ones that made me dive really into myself are probably my favourite. Your death is a number, Down in the Ground where the Dead Men Go, Riches and Wonders, To Each According to Their Ability

tagging @expatgirl @humanformdragon @submeowchinegun @skitter-kitteruwu @pomodoriyum @merfilly

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spockandawe · 4 years

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So, I was thinking about Nie brother tragedy times, because I didn’t even come CLOSE to getting it out of my system with that fic

(oh dear, this got longer than I expected)

So first, a few snippets on the things Nie Huaisang does and doesn’t value, and how... strained his relationship with Nie Mingjue is when it comes to these things (based on the last quote I’ve copied over for this post, I get the impression that they might have argued over art vs sabers a lot, but that the genuine, intense anger on nie mingjue’s part is a very new, very shocking development for nie huaisang)

First of all, generally setting the scene

One day, the moment [Nie Mingjue] returned to the main hall of the Unclean Realm, he saw about a dozen folding fans, all lined in gold, flattened out one next to the other in front of Nie Huaisang, who was touching them tenderly, mumbling as he compared the inscriptions written on each one. Immediately, veins protruded from Nie Mingjue’s forehead, “Nie Huaisang!”

Nie Huaisang fell at once.

He really did fall to his knees from the terror. He only staggered up after he finished kneeling, “B-b-b-brother.”

Nie Mingjue, “Where is your saber?”

Nie Huaisang cowered, “In… in my room. No, in the school grounds. No, let me… think…”

Wei Wuxian could feel that Nie Mingjue almost wanted to hack him dead right there, “You bring a dozen fans with you wherever you go, yet you don’t even know where your own saber is?!”

Nie Huaisang hurried, “I’ll go find it right now!”

Nie Mingjue, “There’s no need! Even if you find it you won’t get anything out of it. Go burn all of these!”

And then, introducing Jin Guangyao as a brother figure who understands Nie Huaisang in a way that Nie Mingjue doesn’t/can’t, and one who’s happy to indulge Nie Huaisang’s hobbies. In fact, even when Nie Mingjue is already generally pissed at Jin Guangyao, has tried to kill him in the past, and is angry right now, Jin Guangyao is still willing to speak up on behalf of Nie Huaisang.

All of the color drained out of Nie Huaisang’s face. He rushed to pull all of the fans into his arms, pleading, “No, Brother! All of these were given to me!”

Nie Mingjue slammed his palm onto a table, causing it to crack, “Who did? Tell them to scurry out here right now!”

Someone spoke, “I did.”

Jin Guangyao walked in from outside the hall. Nie Huaisang looked as though he saw a knight in shining armor, beaming, “Brother, you’re here!”

In reality, it wasn’t that Jin Guangyao could calm Nie Mingjue’s anger, but that since Jin Guangyao came, all of Nie Mingjue’s anger would be directed at him alone, having no time to scold others. Thus, there was nothing wrong with saying that he was Nie Huaisang’s knight in shining armor. Nie Huaisang was absolutely delighted. He greeted Jin Guangyao again and again as he grabbed the fans in haste. Seeing how his younger brother reacted, Nie Mingjue was so outraged that he almost found it amusing. He turned to Jin Guangyao, “Don’t send him those useless things!”

In a hurry, Nie Huaisang dropped a few fans on the ground. Jin Guangyao picked them up for him and put them into his arms, “Huaisang’s hobbies are quite elegant. He’s dedicated to art and calligraphy, and has no propensity for mischief. How can you say that they’re useless?”

Nie Huaisang nodded as fast as he could, “Yes, Brother is right!”

And then, more of Jin Guangyao being indulgent when it comes to Nie Huaisang.

BUT. Also.

Explicitly bringing up that Jin Guangyao is a pro at figuring out people’s likes and dislikes, and using that to figure out how to ingratiate himself to them.

Jin Guangyao nodded lightly and sat as he had been told, “Brother, if you’re concerned for Huaisang, softer words would do no harm. Why this?”

Nie Mingjue, “Even when a blade’s at his neck he’s still like this. Looks like he’ll always be a good-for-nothing.”

Jin Guangyao, “It isn’t that Huaisang is a good-for-nothing, but that his heart lies somewhere else.”

Nie Mingjue, “Well you’ve really discerned where his heart lies, haven’t you?”

Jin Guangyao smiled, “Of course. Isn’t that what I’m the best at? The only person whom I can’t discern is you, Brother.”

He knew of people’s likes and dislikes so that he could find suitable solutions; he loved running errands and could do twice the work with half the effort. Thus, Jin Guangyao could be said to be quite a talent at analyzing others’ interests. Nie Mingjue was the only person whom Jin Guangyao couldn’t probe out any useful information about.

Now, this is brought up in the context of how Jin Guangyao was never able to get this sort of read on Nie Mingjue, but it comes right at the end of a LONG passage where... yeah, this is exactly the thing he’s been doing with Nie Huaisang. And considering how much he leans into these tactics and how he’s already been established as a skilled spy and double dealer, it’s... telling that when he can’t do this to Nie Mingjue, he’s working his little brother this way instead.

And then, change of pace. One quoted passage about how as time went (and as Jin Guangyao cozied up to Nie Huaisang more, and as Nie Mingjue’s instability built towards that last qi deviation), Nie Huaisang even more clearly saw his brother as an adversary and Jin Guangyao as an ally.

If only Nie Huaisang were like Wei Wuxian and could feel how great Nie Mingjue’s rage was, he wouldn’t grin in such a bold way. He protested, “Brother, the time is up. It’s time to rest!”

Nie Mingjue, “You rested just thirty minutes ago. Keep on going, until you learn it.”

Nie Huaisang was still giddy, “I won’t be able to learn it anyways. I’m done for the day!”

He often said this, but today Nie Mingjue’s reaction was entirely different from his past reaction. He shouted, “A pig would’ve learnt this by now, so why haven’t you?!”

Never expecting Nie Mingjue to burst out so suddenly, Nie Huaisang’s face was blank with shock as he shrunk toward Jin Guangyao.

So, I’m not terribly inclined to regard Nie Huaisang as a chessmaster manipulator type, more someone who’s good at sneakily inciting chaos, while Jin Guangyao relies on having ironclad control. But Nie Huaisang is definitely smart, and had plenty of time to put certain pieces together. I’m fascinated plenty by whatever it was that took him from ^^^ to this

(I love what fatal journey did, and I love the idea of jin guangyao making nie huaisang more actively complicit in his brother’s death, because that is deliciously fucked up, but I am also trying to be careful with any claims as to Absolute Canon, so I’m not going to go into the movie)

What I’m even more interested in... is the aftermath. I’ve read delicious self-recrimination fic from a variety of characters, but it seems like there’s less when it comes to Nie Huaisang, and I think that’s such a shame.

Because this storyline is so tasty! So tragic!! I love the one post I’ve seen a few times, where it contrasts lan wangji’s and nie huaisang’s reactions to New Brothers, where nie huaisang is like ‘new brothers! excellent!! I will expect backdated presents for each of my birthdays, thank you.’ Which, like... that might not be canon, but Jin Guangyao pretty much rolls with that exact idea. He works out what Huaisang likes best in no time flat, and starts bringing him all kinds of fantastic presents. And he starts arguing in favor of Huaisang’s own preferences and strengths to Nie Mingjue’s face.

There’s something that really gets me about the tragedy of a situation where someone doesn’t realize they’re caught between ‘someone who doesn’t understand me, but loves me’ and ‘someone who understands me, and uses that to use me.’

It kills me, because at the very end of Nie Mingjue’s life, Jin Guangyao was definitely using the disconnect between the two brothers as a way to provoke Nie Mingjue. He might not have caused the division, but he was happy to lean into it. He’s capable of mediation, but instead, he wholeheartedly takes Nie Huaisang’s side in these arguments, which looks gr8 to Nie Huaisang, but has the end of effect of infuriating Nie Mingjue, until that last time, when he finally snaps and qi deviates to death.

I just love the tragedy of realizing someone you thought was an ally was actually... probably indifferent to you, and was definitely using you as a tool to hurt someone you love.

(I don’t necessarily think that the relationship was established just to manipulate nie mingjue, I think jin guangyao tends to establish this kind of relationship with anyone who’s likely to be a power player of any sort, but I do think that when he wasn’t able to ingratiate himself with nie mingjue directly, nie huaisang was the best method available to steer him)

I wish there was more fic getting inside Nie Huaisang’s head as he works this all out, but it’s not like I have much confidence in my ability to write anything so much in his head and emotions myself, haha. My fic scratched some similar itches, but just taking things away from nhs pov dramatically limits how much you can do with this situation.

Because it really was an internal situation. Who would he have shared it with? Jin Guangyao definitely had spies in Qinghe, Lan Xichen would have been grieving Nie Mingjue and absolutely would have been reluctant to blame Jin Guangyao for anything, and it isn’t like Nie Huaisang ever had proof. The situation is so tragic and so isolating that I keep coming back to it in my head, and while I was writing the nmj fic, I reread the section I quoted above, and was struck by the nature of the relationship that Jin Guangyao established with Nie Huaisang, on this kind of emotional foundation, and how Nie Huaisang had to maintain that relationship, for years, knowing that the relationship was something Jin Guangyao used to hurt his brother.

#nie huaisang #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #the untamed #i do love jin guangyao #but also #my general position is #nie huaisang did nothing wrong :V

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ladyfawkes · 4 years

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This work originally written for Rapunzel Appreciation Week, Day Two prompt of “Sunshine”. Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Tangled (2010), Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon) Rating: Mature Word count: 2443 Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel Characters: Rapunzel (Disney), Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider Additional Tags: Sexy Times, Short One Shot, Fluff and Mush Summary:

It's Corona's worst thunderstorm in literal years, and it's currently pouring buckets outside. As Captain Fitzherbert arrives back at the palace from his daily morning rounds, he is told by his new wife that the rest of the day is theirs to have.....Court had been canceled as they couldn't have people waiting outside in the rain.

Eugene cannot wait!!! He and Rapunzel's duties had amped up exponentially since they'd come home from their epic 3-month honeymoon. During the past 4 months, they'd barely had any intimate time together at all.

What, exactly, does his sweet wife have in mind? Two words: PILLOW FORT!!!!! Full fic included under the jump.

The day had dawned dark and rainy, that in itself being unusual for Corona. Naturally, Rapunzel always had particular worry for Corona’s guards now that her new husband had been made Captain nearly a year ago. What made this particular storm more dangerous is that it was a thunderstorm. And having a thunderstorm as close to the water as Corona meant it was bound to have more than its fair share of lightning. The guards were always in far more danger during a thunderstorm than the average Coronan citizen, given that they wore so much metal; metal armor, metal helmets, and had metal weaponry. By 10AM, Court had been canceled for the day when it became apparent that the rain wasn’t going to stop and it simply wasn’t safe for the people to queue up outside. Eugene never missed his patrols, though. Rain or shine, light or dark, he was there -- reliable as clockwork. He shocked a lot of people with just how smoothly he slipped into and assumed his new role as Captain. That’s not to say he didn’t also have his fill of trifle, finicky, and annoying minutiae about being Captain. The Guard had just recently brought on dozens of new recruits. About half the current guard contingent was due to age out in the next few years and Eugene saw this as the perfect opportunity to give the entire system a much needed overhaul. After Rapunzel had been crowned queen, she naturally gave Eugene her blessing with anything and everything he needed. And although training never went as smoothly as he hoped, Eugene had never stopped coming up with ways to become more efficient, faster, better, stronger. And Eugene never expected more from anybody than he expected of himself. Considering Rapunzel’s amped up queen duties in combination with Eugene’s amped up Captain duties, they had seen precious little of each other since their spectacular three-month honeymoon. Neither one of them had found time just yet to have trained a proper assistant or protégé, so until they could find a proper rhythm and people who could reasonably run the show when they needed to step away, they were the sole persons responsible for their respective occupations. Rapunzel was quite lucky that her father was still willing to step in during a pinch. Eugene had no such luxury, however. He’d been having a devil of a time finding a willing and able second-in-command. As such, he hadn’t really had much of a break since they’d returned from their honeymoon. Not that he’d complain too much to her. He was just being his same loving self with Rapunzel, during the small times they actually did get to be with each other, giving 80-85% of the conversation time to his ‘darling wifey’ and all of her concerns and worries. Eugene stepped into the castle foyer around 10:30 AM with a flourish, saying, “Whew!! It’s certainly been a soaking wet morning!!” If anybody deserved a respite right now, it was her hard-working dripping wet husband. He removed his bicorne hat and poured the rain off of it back outside before allowing the servants to close the doors behind him. The Captain had been absolutely drenched, gratefully allowing the footmen to take his hat, cloak, coat, and his riding boots and stockings; then he slipped on an offered dressing gown and into some warm slippers. “Thank you, everyone!” said Eugene, who was clearly relieved to have their care and attention. Then Rapunzel was present to hand him a warm towel so he could dry his hands, face, and hair. She noticed in particular the rivulet that ran down Eugene’s perfect nose; its slope was just right for its own tiny waterfall whenever liquid streamed down his face. Eugene was now speaking into the towel about the goings-on of his morning as he mopped up his face. “Ah!” he said as he put a still-damp arm over Rapunzel’s shoulders, “that’s more like it!” Rapunzel next handed him a steaming cup of tea which he also accepted gratefully. He and Rapunzel walked toward their bedroom suite. So hypnotized by Eugene’s nose was Rapunzel, that after he finished taking a sip of tea, she had reached right over and booped his nose. As he was mid-sentence and her gesture was completely unexpected, Eugene stopped in his tracks and turned to gaze at her with a quizzical smile on his face. “Now what was that all about?” Rapunzel grinned cheesily and mysteriously replied, “Hmmm….I guess you’ll just have to see!” and then she skipped a little down the corridor, emitting a high-pitched giggle, with a very amused and intrigued Eugene in tow. Rapunzel may have been a queen and his wife by now, but she was still so charmingly….herself. When they got to the suite, he could see some changes had been made in his absence.Their huge bed and nearly all of the furniture in the room had been shifted over closer to the giant fireplace to better avail themselves of its warmth. Just about every inch of furniture had been draped in some type of sheet, duvet, or comforter. The corners had been weighted down by heavy cushions, poufs, and pillows. “What’s all this for?” Eugene asked in wonderment. Tall standing candelabras also circled the outside, lighted wicks casting the otherwise storm-darkened room in a soft rosy glow. Rapunzel excitedly lifted up one side of the bed-blanket bungalow she’d created and let him see inside. It was a rather impressive space, if she said so herself, and she wanted to rattle off to Eugene how she’d engineered it to make sure the center wouldn’t fall in while they were inside, but that would require explaining lots of math with which Eugene was not familiar. Point being….she was proud of it, and her grin showed this pride even more with the way Eugene was looking around at it all. “On rainy days, Pascal and I used to make pillow forts next to the fireplace. It was so very drafty in the--t--uh, the old place, with only that one small fire in a huge fireplace, and Pascal and I would have to make the fire wood last for insanely lengthy amounts of time.” The word ‘tower’ had basically become a taboo word in their personal lexicon, so they did their best to avoid saying it. “So this is a pillow fort, eh?” said Eugene, his smile getting larger and larger as he looked at the pillows and cushions bunched around inside the blanketed big top. Just outside the entrance lay platters of hot tea, hot cider, and their respective favorite snack foods and sweets. Eugene reached over and snagged a cupcake piled high with blue and pink swirled icing and a cherry in the center. Rapunzel nodded excitedly. Even now, going on four years later, she and Eugene were still having fun sharing with one another the various things they’d each missed out on due to their respective limited childhoods. “I’ve heard of these things,” Eugene said, a huge grin across his features, “I’ve just...never seen them. We never had pillows and almost never had blankets at the orphanage.” Of course, Rapunzel had known this….and that’s why she thought it would be the perfect rainy day to show Eugene that you could just as easily huddle together for fun during inclement weather rather than merely out of necessity or desperation. Eugene despised heavy rain almost as much as he hated snow. So Rapunzel was determined to make this a great indoors day he’d never forget. “I only have one question,” said Rapunzel, her hand hovering over the tie of his dressing gown. Eugene’s look of boyish wonder switched instantly to one of the intrigued fox….. “Ask,” he replied, an arching eyebrow disappearing under his still-damp hair. “Do you want to shower together now or after, ah, tea time?” inquired Rapunzel. “‘Tea time’, huh?” echoed Eugene, a grin threatening to erupt across his face. “Is that what we’re calling it now?” he teased. Rapunzel playfully slugged him and coyly turned away, saying, “Maybe…” Eugene considered for real this time, “Well, I’ve got to go back out on patrols in three-ish hours so…” he stopped when he saw Rapunzel shaking her head. “...no?” “I’ve instructed Nigel and Max to cancel all of your duties -- and mine -- for the rest of the day. They were only too happy to agree. Apparently, uh, your men have been complaining endlessly to them about how you’ve turned into a complete grouch recently.” Eugene smacked his forehead. “And here I thought I was doing well covering for it.” “Turns out the whole palace knows that despite our best efforts, our new respective duties have pulled us away from one another too much lately. When Faith and Nigel saw what I was wanting to do with the furniture in here…..and how I’d ordered our schedules cleared, welllllll…” “Say no more,” said Eugene, as he set down his empty tea cup and as-yet-untouched cupcake. By the time Rapunzel had turned around to face him again, he had stripped down completely and was now standing next to what was left of his soaking wet clothes. Rapunzel bit back on the giggle she felt, upon seeing how quickly Eugene had availed himself to her, once he learned they could just play the rest of the day. It was just so darn adorable seeing him standing there, buck naked, now sporting his most eager puppy-eyed face. He had clearly missed her even more than she had missed him and thus required zero encouragement. But she was still gonna make this even more fun nonetheless….. Rapunzel donned her doe-eyed sexy face and slowly sauntered up to him, reached around his back, and oh-so-lightly dragged her middle fingertip up Eugene’s spine. The whole time, she still held his gaze. He shivered and his nipples instantly hardened more than they already were. Rapunzel then slowly continued following the line past his spine, just as lightly following the line between his cheeks with her pinky. Eugene inhaled deeply as his adept wife carefully built his anticipation...as well as his erection. He reached out to undress her…..yet she danced out of the way. “Ah, ah,” she admonished playfully, “not yet!” She reached for the table behind him and grabbed the cupcake he’d chosen earlier, again darting out of his considerable reach as he tried to catch her. Rapunzel carefully pulled out the cupcake paper, broke off a small piece of cupcake, and said, “As long as you promise to behave, I’ll share some cupcake with you,” she said coyly. Eugene pretended to pout for a time but Rapunzel held firm, slowly feeding small morsels of cupcake to herself as they spoke, enrapturing him even further. It didn’t take long before Eugene caved again….anything to get her closer to him….. Then Rapunzel fed the cupcake to Eugene and as she did, she “slipped” and smeared some of the pastel frosting across his face. “Oopsie!” she demurred, biting the side of her lip, and blinking her long eyelashes up at him. He smirked…..and suddenly grabbed Rapunzel’s right hand, saying, “Here, let me help you with that,” and proceeded to artfully lick the cupcake-and-icing-coated fingers of her right hand. Eugene carefully started with both tips of her first and second fingers, lightly massaging his tongue back and forth between them, ending with a swirling motion and light suction, and nibbling at the web between her two fingers. It was such a perfect simulation of what he’d done with her on their wedding night that she nearly abandoned her plans right there. But!! She was determined to see this through….in the best way, of course. Eugene stood back, complete with Cheshire grin in all his nude glory, prepared to playfully gloat over how easily he’d caused Rapunzel to lose her composure. “Now,” his wife said, “it’s my turn to assist you,” she insisted, and she abruptly threw her arms around Eugene’s neck. Instantly, he threw out his arms to catch her as she leapt off the floor and would’ve pulled them both to the tile, had it not been for Eugene’s quick reflexes. “Whoa!!” he exclaimed. Now situated right where she’d planned, Rapunzel turned toward Eugene, and proceeded to carefully lick off the icing she’d smeared on his face. “You little cheater!” he exclaimed with delight, and he held her to him even tighter. “Only because,” -lick- “you cheated” -swirly-lick- “first!!” and she gave a sucking-kissy-lick as a finishing flourish. “Just for that, I’m taking your dressing gown, naughty girl,” and before Rapunzel knew it, she was standing in front of him, wearing her adorable blue nighty…..and only the nighty. Eugene had magic hands, in that he could make items of clothing disappear faster than Rapunzel could blink. “So,” he said huskily, “a dressing gown and nighty is all you were wearing when you came to greet me once I came back?” She circled his arms around her. “Yes,” blinked a sloe-eyed Rapunzel, as she had linked hands with Eugene and held their hands behind her back. “That’s…..hot,” he said, unlinking hands with Rapunzel in order to embrace her, that almost-grin hiding behind his eyes. “Actually, it was unsurprisingly cold,” quipped Rapunzel, who was only half-joking. Eugene threw back his head and laughed in spite of himself. “Go ahead, laugh!” Rapunzel said with feigned indignation. “My nipples and pleasure-boat are now half-frozen,” she pouted. “Oh no, tut tut tut,” Eugene clicked his tongue and shook his head. “That simply will not do! We must warm them!” He pointed toward the ceiling, saying, “Corona will never have a frigid queen as long as I’m around!” he declared proudly. Now it was Rapunzel who threw back her head and laughed. Eugene reached down and placed one hand on either side of the hem of Rapunzel’s nighty, looked her in the eyes and said, “May I?” She grabbed his wrists and tugged them upward in reply and quickly the little blue nighty joined their dressing gowns and Eugene’s sopping wet clothing on the floor. At last, they climbed into the epic pillow fort and Rapunzel got to show Eugene just how amazing life could be during inclement weather--as long as you had decent lodgings and even better company. And Eugene got to remind her just how warm and happy her pleasure boat could get, as long as she brought along a personal hot rock….. @s-vnshiine @gleamful-lanterns @eugeneismyqueen @autumn-ravenclaw

#Rapunzel Appreciation Week #Rapunzel & Eugene #tangled fanfiction #one-shot #mega-fluff #sunshine

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all1e23 · 5 years

Text

Swallow [Pt. 7]

Chapter: Convictions and Lies

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: It’s becoming increasingly clear that Bucky will have to choose between his brothers and his girl. Y/n learns a secret.

Warnings: Adulty themes. Yes, I’m a grown-up, and I said adulty themes. Heavy Angst (I know. What else is new with series, right?) Sweet Bucky because I still standby that as a warning.

A/N: I’m sorry it’s been so long between updates, but tbh this fic takes a lot out of me when I write it – it’s emotionally exhausting to write. Send me love because I’m needy. No beta Read at your own risk. ;-)

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam though! Thanks!*

You’ve been falling; falling fast and hard, tumbling down into the dark -- the same darkened, treacherous place your head told your heart you would never visit again.

At least that’s what you have been telling yourself the last few years-- an attempt to soothe the ache of losing the other half of your heart. It turned out the dark wasn’t so scary and hidden within the shadows was the promise of something brighter. If you could give enough of your heart and place your trust in the one person, who knew where the light is hidden.

The only source of light your soul has ever needed never failed to be found within James Barnes's heart. No matter the fearsome winds and dark clouds that roll in threatening to steal his warmth, the darkness never comes, and this time would be no different.

Seven days you’ve spent, and the clouds that lingered nearby have yet to change directions even with the powerful winds approaching.

A week of sweet kisses, soft whispers, and delicate touches pointed you towards those dark hidden shadows -- sunlight pierced holes through those dark clouds that loomed just off the coast, and you’ve never felt more at home. As you lay in Bucky’s bed, watching him sleep, your heart was right there to remind you of the promises you made to yourself and how you’ve broken every one from the moment you came home. There wasn’t a part of you that could be moved to care, heart included. The only place you have ever felt at peace was when you were by Bucky’s side. He was the only home your wandering soul knew, and no one could change that.

And while nothing, absolutely nothing, sounded better than spending the day sheltered in Bucky’s arms and basking in the glow radiating from his heart and yours, you needed coffee.

Your bright morning would quickly take a wrong turn onto a dimly lit backroad if you did not find some type of caffeine and fast. Begrudgingly, you tore yourself from his side and grabbed some of the clothes you had stashed around Bucky's room. The real trick was going to be making it downstairs without anyone seeing. Not that you were in any way ashamed or embarrassed by where you spent the last several nights -- scared was a more accurate assessment of your feelings.

Scared to let go and fearful of what would come when you do. Adding people's opinions to that fear would only create a fire you were not prepared to handle.

For now, this was only you and him.

You quietly slipped down the stairs to avoid attention, but the amount of noise you made wouldn’t have made a difference. All eyes were on you the moment you landed at the bottom step. You groaned internally but managed to keep your face blank as you crossed the room towards the only friendly face in the room.

You sat down on the table next to Peggy and asked with a smile, “No one noticed me, right?”

Peggy smirked and handed you what you assumed was her cup of coffee. “Of course not.” She assured you. “No one noticed that you came down at seven-thirty in the morning and had a pair of lace panties stuck to your jeans.”

She winked and pulled the blush-colored lace from your thigh. “Shall I wash it for you?”

You snatched it from her hand and shoved it into your pocket. “Let’s never speak of this again, and thank you for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome,” Peggy added as she stood intent on grabbing herself another cup from the kitchen.

“It looks good on you, darling,” Peggy mentioned, turning back to find your head tilted to the side and confusion written all over your face. You didn’t have anything special on, just jeans and an old Guns N’ Roses t-shirt Bucky had bought you years ago. She playfully rolled her eyes nodding to towards the bird on your wrist -- the one now bared for all to see.

“Settling back into your life. Being home.” She clarified.

The sound of footsteps making their way downstairs had her grinning, and she promptly made her way to the kitchen. No need to add another pair of eyes to this already delicate situation.

The room full of nosy boys were enough.

Bucky descended the stairs a moment later, only adding to the awkward tension in the air. His was hair tousled from sleep still, his leather unzipped and open to show off the thin white v-neck he was wearing under it. In the middle of his chest sat a small ring hanging from a silver chain. You would know that ring against a thousand others. You doubted anyone would recognize the chain let alone the ring, maybe Steve.

You didn’t know what Steve was paying attention to back then or now, for that matter. By the look of things, no one was the same person they were five years ago -- Bucky more so than the rest.

The leather he was sporting wasn’t new, but the smile on his face certainly was.

Since the night you snuck in, tensions within the clubhouse have shifted, and the focus was no longer on who was breaking whose heart. It made the days a little sweeter and the nights a little longer, not just for the two of you. Bucky’s been smiling on the regular, talking openly and even laughed when Peter made a joke. Sam had been there to ease the kid into a chair when he went pale and queasy.

Naturally, they all wanted to ask what had their vice president so cheery, but no one dared to tease him. There was never a discussion between you, but it had seemed you both agreed not to talk about what was happening. Though you were sure everyone knew you were the reason, it was hard to miss the sun shining through to break up a rain cloud.

Still, avoiding the topic was probably for the best. Clint hadn’t been to the clubhouse since his chat with Steve and hadn’t spoken to you in three days, six hours and twenty-six minutes (Not that you were counting or anything). He couldn't -- wouldn’t accept your decision, and you didn’t know how to repair the rift it caused between you. The last words he uttered to you was a promise that has been replaying in your head ever since. He swore to you that taking Bucky back was a mistake, and if you went down this path, he didn’t know if he would be able to fix things this time.

You had to trust that in time, Clint would understand. He’s never been able to stay mad at you for long.

Bucky continued by every member that sat, scattered throughout the clubhouse missing countless opportunities to sit near someone else. He could have found a place near Peter or Tony and avoided the one thing the club considered to be a chink in Bucky’s armor -- his defect.

As weak as you made him, you have never been his weakness regardless of what anyone else thinks.

He swung his leg over the chair in front of you, his eyes glued to yours as he lowered himself onto the harsh wooden seat. He smirked and tilted his head to the side, watching as your eyes frantically searched to see who around you were paying attention.

Everyone was watching with interest. Typical.

You looked back at Bucky to find him grinning, eyes shimmering in delight and you knew he did this on purpose. He was never one to shy away from touching you in public. You knew what it looked like from the outside -- a possessive claim, but the truth was the poor boy has never been able to keep his hands off you.

He wanted this, and it was okay to admit you did too.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

You beamed, and your eyes lit up.

“Hey, Buck.”

“So,” Bucky whispered as his hands landed on the tops of your thighs and casually moved up and down the soft material of your jeans. Getting the hint, you set your coffee down and draped your arms over his shoulders. He stopped at the top of your thighs and gave a gentle squeeze as he spoke again softer this time but still confident. “I was thinkin’ you could bring some of your things over from Clint’s.”

“Buck.” You scold, gently and slightly amused. You should have expected it really. Bucky didn’t know what slow meant when it came to you.

“Remember we are taking things slow so we can figure out how to be with each other again and you are not going to punch someone for talking to me.” You reminded, and he grinned.

“Baby...” Bucky’s voice trailed off as his hands tightened on your thighs and he carefully pulled you off the table where you fell into his waiting lap. A soft squeak fell from your lips, and he quickly swallowed it with a chaste kiss.

It only lasted a second, but it had your head spinning.

“I’ve had you spread out in my bed the last six nights in a row,” He said, raspy and quiet, his lips so close they brushed against yours as he spoke, “You haven’t been home since and I know you got things stashed in around. What’s the difference if you have some clothes in my closet?"

Everything he was saying was right, and in some part of your brain, it made sense but, what happened when you let go? Your heart wasn't ready to find out.

“If you think I’m living in this filthy ass clubhouse you aren’t very smart.” You sassed, covering fear with a sassy quip worked for your brother it could work for you. Too bad the man you were trying fool knows every inch of your skin and every beat of your heart. Bucky could see right through you.

“Okay, let’s get a house,” Bucky conceded, pulling back just enough to clear the haze your lips filled his head with. “I can go anywhere as long as you’re there with me, baby doll. There isn’t much I need to get by. Just one important thing.”

You ignored the thudding that was sounded from your chest and wrapped your fingers around the chain slowly twirling the glimmering silver around your hand. You gave it a gentle tug until your noses were nearly bumping and inquired. “You take things that aren’t yours now? Should I add thief to your resume?”

“Outlaws don’t have resumes darlin’.” He grinned.

A large hand splayed on your lower back pushed you further into his lap, and bucky quickly cleared up why it’s still hanging from his neck. “The woman I love left it behind. I’ve just been keeping it safe until she’s ready to carry the weight of it again.”

Oh.

“What if she can’t carry the weight of it?” You whispered, tightening your hold on the chain to the point it was beginning to tear at your skin. “What if the club and everything this ring stands for can’t coexist?”

Bucky bumped his nose against yours, and his eyes flicked up from the chain between you to meet your eyes. He felt stupid for not seeing that coming, but the answer was so simple he thought you would have figured it out by now. Bucky’s had five years to live with the consequences of not choosing you, and it’s not a pain he’s willing to shoulder again.

“I can live without a lot of things, but you are not one of them,” Bucky said gently and with firm conviction. “I learned that the hard way and, I can promise you, it’s the only thing I know for certain. There is nothing that could keep me from choosing you, and if I have to, I’ll burn it all down for you.”

Burn it all down, for you.

Nearly six years it’s been, and those words were like a sweet prayer you never thought you would hear. You knew the look Bucky was wearing, the determination and sincerity in eyes gave life to his words in a way that left you aching to believe him.

Deep down, you both knew it wouldn’t be that easy though, regardless of who was burning, you both would get caught in the flames.

Steve cleared his throat, dousing the kindling between you in cold water, smothering your bright morning in a toxic cloud of smoke and ash. Just like always, the perfect reminder that the club would always be there to steal him with such ease, it left you feeling silly and naive for having ever having hope.

Bucky peered over your shoulder at Steve and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I’ll be done in an hour. Hang around, please?” Your arms tightened around his waist, and he sighed. “We can go to lunch when I’m done and talk. I’m not going to hide anything from you, but I gotta go in there baby doll.”

Your arms slowly fell from his side, and you did your best to shimmy out of his lap without falling -- your trembling legs were no help. Bucky rose to his feet and zipped his leather concealing his heart and your ring, not that there was much of a difference between the two. A light kiss was placed to your temple, and heavy boots echoed through the barroom ending with the rattling slam of the wooden doors that separated you.

--------

The dread that came with being behind these doors made Bucky sick. The heaviness of the gavel never left his hand even after he passed it on to Steve, and now that you were back in his arms, it only made him yearn to be free of it all. Every bullshit meeting, every idiotic rule, and every painful decision that pushed him further away from the man he wanted to be -- the man he was when he was with you.

The club would be alright without him when the time came, or it would come crashing down. Bucky wanted to care, but he didn’t. He only needed to get the club through this bullshit with Red Skulls, and he was gone, whether Steve let him go or not.

Several grumbled voices rang throughout the room as Steve’s gavel came down. Bucky was uneasy, and the meeting hadn’t begun, you didn’t want him sitting at the table, and he honestly didn’t want to be there. None of this shit has mattered for years, and it didn’t hold a candle next to you. He’d much rather be tangled up in you with his head buried between your thighs drawing out those sweet whimpers that drive him crazy than listening to their next mistake.

“Where is Barton, and how come his sister is walking around like she owns the damn place?” An annoyed voice griped from the back of the room, Bucky wasn’t sure who said it, but they were about to regret ever opening their damn mouth. He sat up, and Sam’s hand was on his chest shoving him back into his seat before anyone could take notice -- Steve noticed of course.

Punk never does miss anything.

“Clint is dealing with some family shit that isn’t anyone’s business and as for Y/n,” Steve glanced at Bucky, waiting for the okay before continuing. “She’s your VP’s old lady, so watch your damn mouth and show her the same respect you give Peggy.”

Everyone's head jerked over to Bucky who didn’t say a word, just gave a slight nod to the room and turned to face Steve. He wasn’t talking about you or whatever was happening between the two of you in this room. Ever again. His relationship was not club business any longer.

“Right,” Steve said, club president demeanor in place. “Now that all of that is out in the open, can we focus on club business? Red Skulls are dipping their hands into things I can’t let slide -- selling guns to kids and trading their girls for weapons and information on their enemies. Primarily us and our families. This has been a long time coming. They have threatened everyone sitting at this table, and it’s time we take them down before they hurt anyone else.”

“Agreed?” Steve looked around at a room of nodding heads -- everyone but Bucky. Didn’t matter anyway, when Steve called for a vote it was simple numbers, and Bucky was the odd man out.

“On to our bigger issue,” Bucky frowned and finally looked over at Steve.

Bigger issues? What the hell is more significant than taking down another club?

“We’ve got a rat within our ranks, or that's the way it looks at least."

--------

The girls were great, and you loved Peggy, truly did, but you couldn't sit idly by in the clubhouse while they voted on your life and Buckys. Yeah, you didn’t know what the vote was, but there was always a vote. It may not be directly tied to you, but every choice they made in that room affected every aspect of your lives.

Peggy was wrapped up talking to Pepper; you took your chance and snuck out the backdoor to get some air. You briefly thought about waiting on Bucky’s bike, so he knew where you were but decided against it. It would just make it easier for the girls to find you and, you needed a break. So, you snuck off to hide in your jeep.

Bucky would find you. He always finds you.

"Hey, pretty girl."

That wasn’t Bucky.

Your entire body stiffened at the sound of another man's voice saying those words to you. That was Bucky's and Bucky's alone. It felt dirty coming from someone else, and you really didn’t like the way Eddie Brock said it.

"Eddie. How are you?" You greeted and let him ramble on about while you subtly kept your eyes on the clubhouse. Eddie knew what he was doing. No one just showed up there without an invitation and certainly not someone who was kicked out by the club’s vice president.

"Y/n?" You blinked and refocused on Eddie.

"You okay?" He asked with such concern you almost believed he cared.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sorry." You cleared your throat and gestured back to the clubhouse. "I'm just waiting for my boyfriend. You know the one. He broke your nose and kicked you out?”

Eddie placed his hand on Jeep, caging you between his arms, and you suppressed a shiver that was threatening to reveal your fear. You wouldn’t give him the pleasure. Eddie bent forward and whispered in your ear, "You shouldn't get involved with this club, Y/n. You don't know what they are capable of. Especially your boyfriend."

You huffed a humorless laugh and shook your head. He’s got a lot of nerve, you’d give him that. Here he was telling you what your Bucky was like? He couldn't imagine the things you knew, and he had no idea what your boyfriend was capable of, but he was about to find out precisely what your boyfriend was like.

Eddie was walking a trembling tightrope that was about to snap under him.

"I know exactly what he is and if I were you, I wouldn’t be here when those doors open, or Bucky will be the least of your problems.”

Try fifteen angry bikers. That was never a pleasant sight.

"Lemme take a guess why you're out here all alone, waiting for him to put you first? He had to rush off because Steve summoned him. Trouble with the club and left you here, alone, to handle business? You deserve better than this life.” Eddie slipped a small white card in your hand and stepped back from you.

"Do you really know him, Y/n? Think about it and give me a call when you’re ready to talk.”

You watched Eddie slink off fiddling with the piece of paper in your trembling hands waiting until he was out of sight to look at whatever he handed you. You unfolded the paper he gave you and tour stomach sank when you read it. Eddie Brock was a detective.

Eddie was never trying to patch in -- he had no interest in joining the club, his only interest was bringing it down, and from the looks of things, he was going to use you to do it.

Previous // Next

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #biker!bucky x reader #biker!bucky #biker!au #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #MC!Bucky #MC!AU #alternate universe

1K notes · View notes

lightning-fury · 4 years

Text

Meant To Be

Pairing: Kamilah × MC “Amy”

Chap1 ==> Chap2 (written by @clan-sayeed-fic )

Note: This fic is the result of an unfortunate collaboration with @clan-sayeed-fic (I’m joking about the collaboration being unfortunate 😅😅 ).

Warning: Non-consensual acts and I think angst.

Chapter Three: Control

Written by @lightning-fury

Amy throws her jacket as she entered lily’s apartment and picked a pillow screaming in it.

“I see the branding went spectacularly” Lily teased

“She’s, she’s awful” Amy fell on the couch next to Lily who was playing some video game.

“Well that’s our Kamilah” lily laughed ending the game then she took Amy’s hands in hers.

“Look I’m not defending her behavior. Elizabeth’s death affected us all, but it did hit Kamilah the most, she had a special bond with her”

Amy nod in understanding. “Honestly” she thought “I would’ve acted the same way if I were in her place.”

“Enough forget about Kamilah” Lily jumped from the couch and threw Amy’s jacket in her direction “Catch. We’re going, to celebrate, not every day my girl gets her brand”

Amy catched her jacket thanks to her vampiric speed, she tried to object claiming she’s tired, but Lily didn’t take “No” for an answer. Eventually the blond give up.

Despite Lily Spencer’s chaotic way of living, she’s not only a member of clan Sayeed but also skillful hacker and the owner of one of the most exclusive night clubs in New York which was their destination.

Amy made a quick scan of the place it was flashy and futuristic “definitely styled by Lily”, a famous band playing in the corner driving the crowd crazy on the dance floor. Lily led Amy across the dancing bodies of models and New York’s elites to an exclusive second floor; well as Lily explained it’s exclusive for vampires and the few humans who knew about the supernatural. It didn’t look any different from the 1st floor except for the scent of blood. the blond’s eyes turned red a smile curled on her face showing her fangs, she was about to open her mouth to compliment Lily, when suddenly her expression hardened.

“Hell No!” she frowned.

Lily s looked in Amy’s eyes direction confused to find Adrian waving at them and Kamilah making the same displeased expression Amy making.

The new blood turned attempting to leave only to be stopped by the purple headed “Woah there, you’re not going anywhere”

“Lily I came to forget about Kamilah and this isn’t the place for that. Cause you know, she is here”

“Girl you better pose, we came to celebrate and we will even if it means kicking Kamilah out”

Amy lifted an eyebrow “can you?”

“Um No, but Amy Clark I didn’t think you’re the quitter type. Are you?”

Amy looked at Lily “No”

“So are you gonna let Kamilah win?”

“No” Amy said and smiled mischievously “Lily let’s party”

The girls made a beeline for the bar, it didn’t take them long to get in the party spirit after some shots and the insisting of a human hotty Amy found herself on the dance floor music guiding her, she swayed with the girl, bodies moving in sync, Amy felt the girl’s body temperature rising against her, her heart beats a perfect addition to the music around, it was intoxication, in the dark of the club Amy’s eyes glow red, her hand traveled from the girls waist up to her neck, she run her thumb feeling the girl’s pulse making her shiver in respond.

The blond licked her lips fangs exposed then she sank them in the girl’s neck earning a moan from her. They danced like no one was watching.

Amy felt the girl weakening in her arms, she wanted to stop but she couldn’t, the blood was like drugs, a lust that can’t control, truthfully in that moment she didn’t want to control, the girl was dying in her arms but Amy didn’t care.

That’s when she felt hands on her shoulder a woman’s voice speaking it was commanding but soft and reassuring “Easy there, you can control this, Now you’re feeling a pleasure like you never felt before, I can relate to that but you’re strong Amy, you can do it, it’s okay don’t rush it”

Amy did as told she slowed her drinking pace until she stopped. The girl fell unconscious, Lily catched her before she hit the floor and took her away.

The blond came out from her haze realization hitting her like a track, her hands started to shake she felt hands on her shoulder guiding her away from the crowd, the hands of the woman who helped her control her lust, Amy turned to see her face only to find Kamilah’s eyes looking at her, there was no anger no despite, only concern.

Tears of guilt welling in her eyes Amy hugged her “I almost killed her” she said sobbing.

Kamilah stiffened for a moment then she wrapped her arms around the girl “Shhh, it’s okay, you got overwhelmed, you’ll learn to control it”. They set there for a while the young vampire getting comfort from Kamilah’s touch.

Kamilah offered to drive her home since Lily is taking care of the girl. They drove to lily’s apartment in silence; Amy started to feel better but guilt still consuming her, she got out of the car heading toward the stairs but Kamilah’s voice stopped her “Hey You..”

Amy turned.

“Tomorrow at 7, you’ll start training with me. Be ready”

*******

“Get up” Kamilah looked at Amy who crashed against the floor a second ago.

“I can’t” Amy whined.

“I don’t care, move” said Kamilah

And like that the sweet Kamilah from last night was gone; Amy was getting her ass kicked by Kamilah for the past 3 hours from the moment she set her feet in the training facility.

The upcoming days wasn’t any better, although Amy’s fighting techniques improved she still couldn’t land a single punch at Kamilah.

“Call it skill, call it experience call it whatever you want that woman is unstoppable” Amy said drinking from a blood bag.

“Ames, aren’t you exaggerating a little” Lily laughed massaging the young vampire’s shoulders

“Girl, my body’s hurting in places I didn’t know they did exist” Amy pouted.

“Look at me” Lily moved facing Amy “you’re gonna drink your blood, sleep and tomorrow you’ll show her what you’re made of. Do you understand me?”

“Yes” Amy’s eyes flashed with determination.

The next day Amy went earlier, only to find that Kamilah is already there warming up, she stood there looking at the queen moving with her daggers, dancing like a goddess of war.

“I can hear your heart beats you know” Kamilah said startling Amy.

“Hi” Amy mumbled showing herself “sorry, I didn’t..”

“Save it” Kamilah stopped her.

Amy rolled her eyes “here we go again” she thought “why am I even bothering”

The girl draws out her Katana getting in a fighting stance; it wasn’t too long before the 2 started circling each other preparing to attack they the fight started and Amy was capable of dodging all Kamilah’s attacks, she lost her Katana other than that no one succeeded to hit the other. They danced back and forth for a while, Kamilah actually looked impressed.

Then Amy charged, Kamilah dodged it with ease and slammed her hand into the young vampire ribs, Amy winced in pain but she was quick to recover and managed to trip Kamilah, but she fell on top of her in the process.

They looked at each other, faces inches apart, Amy’s eyes scanned Kamilah face and got fixed on her lips, she leaned closing the distance, but she felt the cold metal of Kamilah’s dagger on her neck.

Amy backed away allowing Kamilah to stand.

“Do you really think I’ll kiss you?” Kamilah spat.

“How pathetic” she looked at her with disgust words leaving her mouth like poison.

Then she turned her back walking away.

Kamilah’s words stabbed Amy like daggers “Why? Why are you treating me like this? What have I done to you?” Amy shouted tears in her eyes.

Kamilah kept walking ignoring the girl.

Something snapped inside of anger filled her, she speed getting in Kamilah’s way “wait”

But when Amy touched Kamilah’s hand, everything around her disappeared.

And then …

Europe 1350

Kamilah walked through alleys hundreds of bodies laid everywhere inside the houses and on the streets it was dark times despair and sadness looming around, a man in armor is next to her he kicked a body of his way “this damned plague hit all of Europe” he grumbled

Kamilah glared at him “Banner can’t you have some decency and treat the dead with respect”

“No” he kicked another body and walked in a different alley than her.

Kamilah ignored him and entered a house, it was dark inside, she smelled death but she heard faint heart beats, she walked the stairs getting to the second floor a man and a woman laid on the bed, Kamilah approached

“They’re dead” a weak voice stopped her.

She turned to see a young girl curled against the wall, Kamilah looked at the girl, she was blond 5 or 6 years old, pale you can see the bones from her skin, by the look she didn’t eat for days.

Kamilah sit next to the girl but the young child tried to stop her “go please, you’ll die” she said tears in her eyes “I don’t want to see someone else die”

“Don’t worry you’re not sick” Kamilah smiled at her “I can sense it also I’m really heard to kill”

The girl looked at her in wonder “what’s your name?”

“Kamilah and you?”

“I am Elizabeth” the girl said

“Elizabeth, that’s a beautiful name” Kamilah stood and extended a hand smiling “well Elizabeth, what do you say about going with me, I can be your family”

“Really?” Elizabeth said not believing what she heard

“Yes, really” Kamilah nod

“Okay” Elizabeth smiled since the first time Kamilah saw her and she took her hand.

*******

And like that Amy got back to reality to see a stunned Kamilah

“How did you?” Kamilah said shocked.

“Kamilah, I didn’t mea..” Amy mumbled surprised by what she did too but Kamilah expression change again she was boiling with anger “Get out”.

Amy took her things and left without a word.

As soon as she walked out Kamilah fell to the floor her legs unable to lift her anymore, she closed her eyes remembering Elizabeth’s smiling face, then she opened them and looked at her hands. the hands that hold her while she turned to ash. Kamilah wrapped her arms around her knees, tears running down her face, she set there crying for the first time in decades.

…

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otheliame · 4 years

Text

Day 4: “A Man In Love”

thank you @gentapprentices for such a fun week so far!! im loving seeing everyone’s masc folks having a fun time!

I actually wrote a fic on this, Shift about my apprentice Jamie coming to Vesuvia and meeting Asra for the first time, and then later Nadia, Muriel, and Lucio before the Plague. It’s stinking cute, and here’s a little segment from the first chapter, the Magician, when the fated two meet in the most cliche of circumstances. It’s written from 1rst person POV, 9 years before the canon.

The sun glimmers brightly overhead as I make my way down the crowded streets, weaving between shoppers while keeping close to the fringes of the walkways. I cusp around the edges of the multicolored stalls to avoid the majority of foot traffic, but it’s proving hard as it’s a particularly busy day in the market, everyone is out and about, not just buying but lingering, talking over each other with excited voices in large clusters spanning the entire street. Something’s happening in Vesuvia today, something special. As much as I’d like to know what that something is, I don’t want to get caught up with the crowd… it’s been a long day.

Today of all days I feel my patience is shorter, Isaac was a bit more of a hardass than usual and it makes the above-average bustle of the street that much more difficult for me to handle, every voice seems to multiply and reverberate in my thoughts like the vibration of insect wings. I’ve lived here for a month now, trying to get by and make a living and it’s been alright thus far, especially since Ksasthra took me in; here is better than there and there was worse than that, so long and so forth, unimportant details now because this is better. Vesuvia is going to be better for me. I can feel it.

A colorful stream from a showcased scarf plays in front of me on a caught breeze as I try to make my way through the market stalls heading towards the lower district, I have to duck to avoid the hawking shopkeeper so I don’t get drawn into a purchase. Luckily, the multitude of customers I have to dodge and weave to get through keep them busy enough to not pay me the slightest attention. I just finished my shift at the local community theatre, doing basic backstage work for all sorts of performances, and right now I want nothing more than to hide away in my small, shared apartment by the waterfront and rest, especially while the one who agreed to house me, Ksasthra, is still back at the theatre for work until much later. The work I did today wasn’t particularly stressful or anything, but being around my coworkers just made me tired. I still feel like there’s hot breath on the back of my neck wherever I turn, and even now it’s still a hard thought to shake.

I originally questioned my own decision in living in a city - I’ve never lived in an area with more than a hundred people in a given spot - but at the time I made the choice, I thought I had no choice. There just aren’t any jobs out in the foothills, and I never learned how to live off the land alone. Though, mostly it was the fact that my attempts to blend in or hide in the vast, sparsely populated, wintry lands of the deep northeast proved largely unsuccessful. Soon I had the realization that my best bet of finally being left alone was to find someplace where I could melt into a crowd. And in order to melt, one must first find a crowd, so to the city I had to go. Vesuvia was the largest, farthest city I could’ve gone to without taking a boat, so it was to Vesuvia I went to escape… to escape. It helped as well that the further south I went, the less people’s gazes would cling to my shoulders, which I quite liked. A lot. I’m not sure why though, for I’m certain I stick out like a sore thumb anywhere. Up north it was the… things… I could do. Here it’s the fact that everyone is colorful and loud and I’m not.

I don’t like being around people, usually because people also don’t like to be around me. I’m… weird, for lack of a better word. I have certain… abilities that other people don’t have, and in my experience if you have something that other people don’t they either envy you or fear you, and both of those things are the worst emotions to see on other faces. But here, in a city full of so much vibrant color, varient life, people of a hundred different types… I’m just another uninteresting face. That’s what I wanted when I came here. It’s thoughts like this that keep my grounded when I get too overwhelmed by citylife around here, such as now, when I’m just trying to get home. Before I came to Vesuvia, I would see the amount of people on this street alone over the span of several months. It’s still very… difficult to get used to this new atmosphere, even three months later. Almost to the street corner, almost there, then I’m home free… Maybe I can finally finish that book Ksasthra gave me…

Suddenly, over the jumbled voices of the shoppers on the street, loud, victorious trumpets resound through the air, stealing all eyes from their tasks to the mouth of the street far down the way. I look up and peer through the heads and shoulders of onlookers to try and see what it is that’s causing such a disturbance before I realize that regardless of whatever it is, this is the perfect opportunity to escape through the crowd to the lower district. Quickly I turn and make my way there, but as I grow close to the corner I realize that whatever is happening is also happening on this end of the street; I see mounted soldiers in gleaming silver armor bearing unfamiliar emblems on tall, colorful standards and shining trumpets, using both of these items to loudly announcing the presence of someone important, someone that I now realize is about to enter this street.

Other shoppers quickly seem to realize this as well, and like a tidal wave people start to shove others from the middle of the street into the outskirts, pressing shopkeepers back behind their stall counters and pushing everyone in their way into the wooden fixtures. I barely get out of the way just as a burly masculine figure makes his way through but I get caught up in the wave as others start hurrying out of the street’s center, I scurry to keep upright.

Suddenly I get shoved back by a gaggle of inattentive shoppers trying to get out of the way right as I try to duck between stalls. I trip and lose my footing, I let out an innately sharp cry as fear of being tramped leaps into my throat but before I hit the ground I smash straight through a market stand’s doorway, which was just a wooden bar draped with a velvety, purple cloth hemmed with gold trim. My shoulders smack the cobblestones as a multitude of things fall on me from the counter’s surface, ripped down from when I took the tablecloth with me. I hold up my hands as I’m hit with a waft of rich, heady herbs and dried grasses, then with strange light smacks, like a small stack of papers just fell on me.

Hands reach under my arms and pull me a little farther backwards into the stall I had fallen into, the touch startles me so much I flinch, making the hands immediately disappear. An intimate voice like honey and wind gasps by my ear over the loud din of the rowdy street, “Are you alright?”

When the strange hands touch me I snap back to attention and regain my bearings like the flare of a starting fire, I sit up and blink as I try to figure out where I am right when I meet the stranger’s gaze… layers of periwinkle, lavender, and lilac, glimmering like stardust in the evening sunshine. They appear masculine presenting, young like me, definitely not old enough to be considered fully gown, with hazelnut skin that gleams like bronze armor and thick, fluffy, silver-white hair that hangs over those starry eyes in wild, soft curls. Starry they are in more ways than one, because the stranger stares at me with such an awestruck expression I suddenly feel incredibly self conscious half-lying on the floor of their stall - it must be their stall, as they’re the only one behind the counter… The counter I just fell through getting pushed by the crowd.

“I…! Oh no, I’m so sorry!” I stammer in embarrassment, brushing myself off as I perch my feet in preparation to stand, though as I do I realize I’m covered in all kinds of herbs, dried flowers, and other reagents that I must’ve accidentally taken with me when I ripped this cloth off the counter in my fall. There are also a dozen or more rather beautiful cards scattered on the cobblestones, though they are like no deck of betting cards I’ve ever seen, even at a passing glance and I can tell as such. An array of masks also accompany this strange collection, the first two I see is one that depicts a fox with little ornamental gems hanging from the ears, the other that’s rugged wood configured in a bear’s face with runes carved into its realistically crafted fur. The stranger’s hands linger no longer on but near my shoulders as I pull myself upright, he continues to stare at me with wide, owlish eyes as I speak so fast my words bumble over each other, “I didn’t mean to, that was completely on accident, please forgive me-!”

“It’s alright!” The boy quickly speaks again with that same gentle, sweet tone, gripping my shoulders to return my gaze to his lavender hues rather than to the cobblestones now littered with his stall’s offerings, and this time I don’t flinch. His lilac eyes flicker across my features then down over my form, checking for injuries as he mutters, “You’re not hurt, are you?”

I shake my head, kneeling down as I try to gather the fallen reagents and masks onto the purple cloth and recollect the fallen, oriental cards, “I’m fine, I’m fine! I’m so sorry, I should’ve been paying better attention, let me help-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” His hands, with long dextrous fingers, smooth palms and marble-carved knuckles breach my vision and stall my hands where they are hovering over the cloth, returning my gaze back to his. I start when I feel the sparks under my skin where we touch, but now that I’m paying better attention I realize it’s not simply just me being startled by the touch, but rather it seems to be some sort of… energy… coming from this boy. A deep torrent of something, power, internal lightning, vitality, runs under his palms like I plunged my hands into the rush of a waterfall.

He smiles at me when I remeet his gaze, a warm and amicable smile that showcases a handsome dimple in his left cheek as he hums, “Really, it’s alright.”

I let out a slightly relieved breath, and look back down at our conjoined hands over the spilled tablecloth. Does he feel it, too? I’ve never felt someone’s aura so tangibly before-

I realize this must be strange, how I loiter over his hands, so I quickly clear my throat and pull mine away. “Erm… What do I owe you for your lost goods?” Idly to distract myself from the embarrassment I pick up a small fallen herb between my thumb and forefinger, I think it’s a rose petal as that’s what it smells like, then one of the fallen cards; it depicts a plain with a sun hanging overhead with long, golden beams down onto the grass, a numeral 0 at the bottom to show which way is up or down I suppose. It looks hand painted too, very ornate and intimately crafted, it’s incredibly impressive, did he paint this himself? I hold these two things up with a curious hum, I glance back up at the stranger after a moment and tilt my head to the side, “What’re you selling, anyway?”

The boy looks at the rose petal in my hand, then at the card, and then back at me with that same owlish look as before right as the air rings with more trumpets, and the crowd just outside of the safe haven of the stall begins to warble. Intrigued, the both of us rise up to look over the counter just in time to see a carriage driving by through the carved path in the streets that the people have rushed to clear. The carriage is richly ornamented, emblazoned with the same colors as the crests the armored knights accompanying it carry, and obviously is not Vesuvian made, drawn by one white, one black horse with thick, luxurious manes. In the open windows the pulled back, rich violet drapes reveal a regal, female presenting person inside. I only get a few seconds to see her through the crowd, though just by her long, royal facial features and her stature alone I know that she must be some sort of powerful noble, most likely from a far away land.

Once the carriage passes and the knights fall in on her, the crowds bustle and burst with noise, people whisper amongst themselves theories of who this newcomer is. I idly recall that there was supposed to be some big summer festival happening soon, so perhaps she’s here for that. Though, I’m not very keen on politics or current events beyond that a war just ended, so I don’t know much beyond that. And, frankly, it’s a miracle I know that much. The politics of this land are very different than they are back up in the depths of the northeast. There things are… very different.

In my peripheral I see the stranger moving again, so I turn towards him just as he lifts the herbs, the masks, and the cards, which we had collected onto the fallen tablecloth, back onto the counter. Then he lifts a hidden leather satchel from within the stall’s inner walls and pack them away inside it, slotting the cards carefully in his palm as he goes. The movements of his arms draw my gaze away from his face for the first time and instead to the layers of colorful cloth around his person; his half-buttoned baby blue tunic that reveals his sternum and a little more above a dark magenta scarf with gold fringes that hangs across one of his shoulders and around his neck. He also dons a vibrant pink, blue, and peach overcoat without sleeves covered in radial patterns, and black trousers that his blouse is loosely tucked into. I swear I see something move around his waist beneath his coat but before I get the chance to investigate further he turns in my direction. Beneath his scarf I catch a glimmer of gold, a choker; it’s engraved with waved designs and somewhat blends in with the rich hues of his skin. Below that a turquoise pendant on a leather chord around his neck hangs over the bared part of his chest in a manner that makes it gleam like the depths of the sea in the sunlight. Richly adorned with beautiful baubles, just like everyone in this city, yet somehow… different. Unique.

Suddenly I realize just where my eyes are lingering so I quickly snap my attention to his face, where it should have been this whole time. As soon as I do he fixes his gaze to mine and speaks in a low hum, “It doesn’t look like anything was damaged, no need to worry.” A sudden, sly smirk slightly plays the edge of his lips as he catches my gaze, I wonder idly if he caught me looking over his form as he adds with a more heartfelt touch, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

I blink at him in surprise and feel another rush of crimson snaking its way to my face, I have to clear my throat and rein in my thoughts to pull my attention back to the present. “Right! Of course… Yes. I mean, good. That’s good to hear. That nothing was damaged, I mean…” Jamie, please. I glance over at the broken wooden shards on the ground and paw them with my boot as my mouth continues to run, “Not even something for the stall door?”

The amusement in the boy’s eyes lights like sparks flying from a blacksmith’s hammer as he regards me, a small chuckle escapes his lips as he begins to fold the now-empty tablecloth on his now-barren stall. “If you’re truly so troubled…” He pauses as if he’s reconsidering his words but after the moment’s hesitation he continues, his expression morphing from teasing and playful to curious and… hopeful, almost. “I was just going to close up shop anyway to get dinner… I wouldn’t be opposed to company. Would you consider that a form of ‘repayment’?” He says this with a lilt of sly humor, the light of the evening sun making his gaze seem to truly dance with entertainment.

Now, I am no fool, but for a moment he almost had me thinking that I was one, as my mind reeled and somersaulted over itself trying to figure out what he was implying, but once it finally hits me like a clock striking midnight I blink with a stunned hum as I nervously worm my fingertips into the strap of my satchel around my shoulder. “... Oh!”

The boy’s gaze softens, quickly adding after a moment as he folds his tablecloth in triangles, “Only if you want to, of course. It’s not every day that someone falls into my stall… I simply can’t help but think it’s a sign of some sort. I’d love to know what kind of sign it is by getting to know you a little.”

I raise an eyebrow at the other in surprise, thumbing my satchel idly as I respond slowly, tasting my words, “A sign?”

He looks back at me with an amused raise in his lips, and only then do my thoughts suddenly jog and dig into the scene I find myself in. The herbs, the curious, colorful attire, the cards… cards unlike any playing cards I’ve ever seen. “Oh.” I murmur, flickering my gaze back to his bemused expression, “Are you one of those fortune tellers? Do they let you do that so young?”

The boy smiles and chuckles, placing the tablecloth in his satchel before he splays out the cards in his palm before him, I can see him counting them with his thumb as he answers, “I suppose some would call me that. Though I don’t think there’s an age limit on reading cards…” Content with the amount of cards he has, he returns them into a pile and slides them into a hidden pocket in his apparel before his hand sweeps before me and gentle takes up mine, before I can react he brings it to his lips and kisses my knuckles with a gentlemanly bow, I can feel his lips move on my skin when he speaks in a playful hum, “But you may call me Asra.”

I swallow thick on a sudden knot of roots in my throat, I smile shyly and chuckle as he releases my hand and straightens back upright. Nervously I laugh a little, simply out of nerves because no one has done that to me before. “... Right. Okay, uh… Asra.”

There’s a beat of silence as Asra the fortune teller regards me with what I think to be an expectant look, after a beat’s pause he tilts his head to the side with a raise in an eyebrow, “And you are?”

“Oh!” I blink and laugh awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck as I feel the heat return to my cheeks, “Right. Names. Introductions… Er- I’m Jamie.”

“Jamie.” Asra echoes, nodding in response as he seems to savor the vowels on his tongue before he gives me a soft smile, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I start slightly when someone jostles the stall, apparently on accident as they were attempting to get by a group of people wagging their jaws. When I look back at Asra I see his gaze is flickering across my features with a pensive expression I’m not quite sure what to do with as he moves like water around me towards the hole in his stall where the latch once was. “Have you ever been to the bakery down the block?” He asks suddenly, pausing in the entrance and looking back at me over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. I shake my head, prompting the fortune teller to smile with genuine amusement as he holds out a hand towards me, an open invitation.

I hesitate, looking at him then at his hand for a long pause. Of course strangers are never to be trusted, but he is rather visually unassuming in terms of combat skill so I have faith that I can handle myself if this one were to try anything. I have been able to protect myself plenty of times in the past. But paranoia aside, I can’t lie, I am a little intrigued by their… disposition. I do find myself wanting to get to know them better, and this aura of theirs… I simply must know more. And I hadn’t exactly had other plans for the evening…

This may as well happen.

I slowly take his hand.

...

Wanna know what happens next? Keep reading !

#gentapprentices #gentapprentices week #thearcanagame #the arcana game #the arcana #asra the arcana #asra the magician #asra alnazar #the arcana asra #my apprentice jamie #the arcana apprentice #asra x mc #asra x apprentice

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