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zintranslations · 3 years ago

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Kaleidoscope of Death, Extra 4

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths (1)

The first time Cheng Yixie understood that he likely wouldn't live for long was on the day of his fifth birthday. While other five-year-olds were still bumbling about without much concept of life and death, he had understood something in his mother's tears and his father's frowns. His fifth birthday was spent in the hospital, alongside his foolish brother Cheng Qianli. With IV drips in their arms and eating horribly bitter medicine, they stuck five candles into a lovely cake to make a wish.

Cheng Yixie looked at the candles on their cake and quietly thought, he wished he could grow up quicker, because there were still placed he wanted to see in this world.

Cheng Qianli clearly didn’t think as much as Cheng Yixie. He wore a brilliant smile in sharp contrast with the impassive Cheng Yixie sitting next to him, and all of his attention was on the sweet and spongey cake before him. Fools had an easier time than geniuses. A single sweet candy could bring a genuine smile out of him.

Cheng Yixie and Cheng Qianli were twins, but everything about them beside their faces seemed completely different.

Cheng Yixie had realized long ago that they were different from other kids. He'd even heard a doctor discuss their condition with their parents. From that discussion, a single sentence had been imprinted in his brain. Their primary doctor had said that, at the current level of medical progress, he and Cheng Qianli would not live past sixteen.

Sixteen—sixteen. Life would only just be starting. Cheng Yixie went back to their hospital room and watched his brother sit in the hospital bed, giggling at the cartoon on TV. There wasn't a single shadow in Cheng Qianli's eyes; they were as bright as the blue skies outside their window.

Cheng Qianli was a lot skinnier than he was, and his body was weaker too. Though he was almost ten, he still looked like an undernourished bean sprout. For treatment, neither of them had any hair. All over their heads and wrists were green and purple puncture marks.

Cheng Yixie came into the hospital room and Cheng Qianli looked up at him, calling out Gege in a sweet voice. That pair of adorable cat eyes were overflowing with palpable joy; he'd never bothered hiding his affection for Cheng Yixie.

"Gege." The tiny Cheng Qianli looked right and left, before carefully waving Cheng Yixie over.

Cheng Yixie went to his bedside, and Cheng Qianli indicated he should bend down. Cheng Yixie thought that Cheng Qianli had something to say to him and obeyed. But the moment he bent, a tiny piece of candy was pushed between his lips.

"Sh," Cheng Qianli said. "Don't tell nurse-jiejie. Grandma gave it to me in secret. I gave it a lick, it's super yummy."

Because they were sick, their diets were under strict control; the amount of snacks they got to eat in a year could be counted on both hands. Cheng Yixie thought, how nice would it be if they were normal children? Then Cheng Yixie could eat all the food that he wanted, and they wouldn't have to be doing such a pitiful thing.

"You're feeding me something you already ate?" was how Cheng Yixie responded to Cheng Qianli's good will. "Gross."

"You're lying," Cheng Qianli harrumphed. "You like candy too, I know it. Mean gege."

Cheng Yixie said nothing. The candy's sweetness was dispersing through his mouth, but all he could see was their future. He couldn't imagine losing this foolish brother of his; he wanted so badly to see Cheng Qianli grow up and have a life of his own.

Cheng Yixie thought surviving was just wishful thinking, until he was chosen by the doors.

The terrifying world of the doors was perhaps an awful sort of torture for many, but for Cheng Yixie, it was a blessing of mercy from the heavens.

When he entered the first door he wasn't even sixteen, and looked completely out of place in the pack of adults.

His first door was very difficult. Cheng Yixie believed that he would die inside, but his fortune was good—he met a veteran who'd passed through many doors. That veteran opened the door, and Cheng Yixie successfully left that extra-dimensional world.

After coming out from the door, Cheng Yixie's physical condition began to swiftly get better.

The doctors called it a miracle. They were getting the same medicine and the same treatments, but Cheng Yixie's body was getting better and quickly approaching normalcy, while Cheng Qianli's was getting weaker.

Cheng Yixie knew why this was happening. He tried telling this absurd yet genuine truth to his parents, but both parents thought he was joking.

In everybody else's eyes, Cheng Yixie had only sat on his bed and spaced out for a bit. He hadn't gone anywhere. Everything he said was probably just a child's imagination. How could they take the imaginary as truth?

Cheng Yixie was smart enough to know that the adults would never understand. This matter had already gone beyond explicable bounds, and he had no evidence to prove the existence of the door.

Then what about Cheng Qianli? Cheng Yixie thought. What about his little fool of a brother?

Before Cheng Yixie had an answer, he entered his second door. And in his second door, he met Obsidian leader Ruan Nanzhu.

Ruan Nanzhu had been in a dress at the time, and called him kiddo with a smile.

Cheng Yixie only shot him a cold look, not bothering to respond. What good was any of this talk? In his first door he'd seen plenty of adults who acted all arrogant and coy one second end up dead the next.

Cheng Yixie figured the same would be true of Ruan Nanzhu. But then he discovered that Ruan Nanzhu didn't seem to be as he'd thought. Ruan Nanzhu was good. Cheng Yixie was keen enough to pick this up after observing Ruan Nanzhu's following actions.

As Ruan Nanzhu got ready to leave, he gave Cheng Yixie a way to contact him, telling Cheng Yixie that if he wanted to know more, he could get in touch.

Cheng Yixie looked at that contact point and memorized it silently.

After leaving the second door, Cheng Yixie got in touch with Ruan Nanzhu and learned about the existence of Obsidian.

"Do you want to come to Obsidian? Maybe you can live for a bit longer here," Ruan Nanzhu said.

Cheng Yixie agreed. He didn't even get his parents' permission before leaving the hospital. He flew to the city where Ruan Nanzhu lived that night.

This was actually quite the risky gamble, because Cheng Yixie couldn't be sure if Ruan Nanzhu actually had any good will toward him. He was just a helpless kid, and if Ruan Nanzhu really wanted to do something to him, he had no chance of even resisting.

But Cheng Yixie could only make the gamble, because Cheng Qianli didn't have much time left.

There was an obvious contrast now that Cheng Yixie was getting healthier. Cheng Qianli was like a plant approaching winter; life was flowing out of him at a rate visible to the naked eye.

After arriving at Obsidian, the first thing he asked upon meeting Ruan Nanzhu was, "can other people get the doors too?"

To his question, Ruan Nanzhu was silent for a while, before saying, "yes, but I'm not telling you how."

"Why not?" Cheng Yixie asked.

"Because you pay with somebody else's life," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Can you do such a thing?"

Cheng Yixie was silent.

Ruan Nanzhu didn't continue the topic, only gave him a simple introduction to the doors. He told him about the hints, about Obsidian, and about some other things. Of course, from start to finish, he never once told Cheng Yixie how to steal somebody else's door. He only warned Cheng Yixie to hide his identity inside the door, or else there would be danger.

Cheng Yixie paid close attention. As he listened, however, he kept thinking about Cheng Qianli. He was thinking that even if he did steal a door for Cheng Qianli, would Cheng Qianli be able to make it out?

The worlds inside the doors were so scary, and didn't suit the naive Cheng Qianli at all. Even if he stole the doors for Cheng Qianli like Ruan Nanzhu said, would it be just another form of torture for Cheng Qianli?

He was so small, and so scared of the dark. He was so completely different from Cheng Yixie. He was just a normal kid.

That night, Cheng Yixie sat in the garden by himself for a long, long time. It wasn't until dawn emerged over the horizon that he rubbed his dry eyes and went impassively back into the house.

What Cheng Yixie was thinking, nobody knew. Since that day on, he never once returned home, and he never once contacted Cheng Qianli.

Is it because your brother's too stupid? So you don't like him anymore? someone asked Cheng Yixie once. Cheng Yixie didn't say anything in return, just shot that person an icy look.

The reason he didn't go back and didn't contact Cheng Qianli was because he was scared. He was scared that he wouldn't be able to control himself, and he would do something out of bounds.

He didn't even dare try to think about Cheng Qianli dying. The moment he thought about it, many terrifying thoughts would surface in his mind.

Cheng Qianli was the calamity in Cheng Yixie's life that he could never escape; he knew that for this brother of his, he could cross even the lowest lines.

And when he became conscious of this, the only thing Cheng Yixie could do was reduce the influence Cheng Qianli had on him—even if the reduction process was tantamount to cutting out a part of himself by brute force.

They were twins. Twins linked by blood. A single glance, a single look, and they could understand what the other was thinking; even a thousand miles away, Cheng Yixie could feel Cheng Qianli growing gradually weaker.

Cheng Yixie thought everything would end like this. But one afternoon, he got a call from Cheng Qianli.

To this very day, Cheng Yixie could recall the weather then.

It was a drizzling spring day, and the shrubs in the yard were lush with greenery. Everything was filled with the breath of revival. And Cheng Qianli's voice came from the other end of the line, sniffling and a little bit weak. He cried, "Ge, Ge, I'm so scared—"

Cheng Yixie, "what's wrong?" He'd sensed something, and his voice couldn't help but tighten in alarm.

"I went into a door." Cheng Qianli spoke in frail stutters. "There were so many ghosts inside. I finally came out. Am I dreaming…When are you coming back…I miss you so much…" It seemed he was growing unconscious, slowly beginning to mumble nonsense.

As Cheng Yixie listened, however, he began to laugh quietly. He laughed until tears came out, and said, "don't be scared. Gege's here. Wait for Gege to come back."

Gege will protect you.

And so, Cheng Yixie understood that he'd never escape Cheng Qianli the calamity. He would use every single method at his disposal to protect Cheng Qianli's life. He would see him grow up, marry, have children. His children would have children and he would definitely live on and prosper.

Author's Note:

Here's the long-awaited twins extra!

[Extra: Shameless Couple(2)] | [Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths(2)]

#kaleidoscope of death #xi zixu #cnovel #chinese translation #死亡萬花筒 #i'm so fucking upset y'all #there are three parts lmfao

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seasonofthewicth · 3 years ago

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nobody does it like you do - act 1

I'm finally back with some more rowaelin! I started this fic in november last year and wrote the first 10k in 24 hours, but from then on this fic was a struggle... Thank you so, so much to @morganofthewildfire for sharing so much of your time to help me with this, this fic would not be here without you 💗 I'm so happy to have finally finished it and can share it on here. I hope you enjoy

CW: past drug abuse, minor character death, violence

7.7k - masterlist - ao3

When her agent sends her the script it’s not the first time she’s heard of Rowan Whitethorn, his name is written at the top under the heading director, which itself is under the big red text reading confidential. He’s been at this stuff for a while now, directed a couple of movies that popped up on her radar but that nothing ever came of for her, and he’s well known in the business.

He was even nominated for an Oscar a couple of years ago, and she watched the ceremony with Lysandra, slapping the bills into her outstretched hand when he didn’t win.

His movie had been far too fucking raw for him to have won, she knew that, a tale about a group of kids who witnessed a murder and how it stayed with them and fucked them up into adulthood, but it had stuck with her nonetheless and she’d put her money on him anyway.

She reads the section of script Dorian has sent her, tucked up in bed with a glass of sparkling water and her most comfortable sweater, leaning back into the mountain of expensive pillows she had Elide buy for her and pondering how so much money could end up so uncomfortable, and she knows it’s something special.

She realises she wants this role, almost to an uncomfortable degree, when she’s about five lines in. The heroine is bratty and rash, but serious and pained in a way that makes her completely fleshed out and Aelin wants to play her, wants to be her and embody her in a way that takes her out of the pit she’s in.

She hopes this could be what gets her out of it.

Aedion had tried to pull her out, gods bless him, dropping by her apartment every morning for weeks to check up on her with a coffee in his hand, topped with cream and two sugars the way he knows she likes. Each morning he let himself in with her spare key, the one she gave to him the day she moved in, wanting him to be able to let himself in whenever he wanted but also knowing there was no one else she wanted to give it to.

She would have given it to Sam, would have given everything to Sam, but he’s gone and she’s left sitting here, wondering how to salvage what’s left of her reputation.

What reputation she had even managed to build after starring in one mediocre TV show and a handful of low-budget movies. She knows deep down, and in a way her brain likes to remind her of when she’s at her lowest, that the main reason she isn’t a complete nobody is because she’s Evalin Ashryver’s daughter. Her therapist tells her every time she bothers to go to a session that having a famous mother doesn’t mean she’s a failure and that she has to recognise each of her successes as her own. She nods along every time, but she doesn’t believe her. What has she managed to accomplish truly on her own?

It hasn’t been made public yet that Rowan Whitethorn is involved in the film, she only knows because Chaol wrote the whole script himself and texted her to let her know when he signed on to direct. She’s known Chaol since she was eighteen and took her first solo trip to Rifthold, drawn to the lights of the big city and the almost magnetic pull of the heart of the industry. He’d stumbled upon her in a club she was far too young to be in and had pulled her out, sending her home in a cab that he paid for. Looking back she was grateful for his attempt to avoid what she knew later was an inevitability.

She had cursed him when he told her she’d still have to audition, but she gets it. She hasn’t exactly behaved in a way recently that makes people want to take a chance on her.

Stumbling out of clubs, eyes as wide as saucers and high as a fucking kite isn’t the kind of star casting directors are desperate to hire, but she’s trying to be better. She’s promised those around her that she’ll be better, and she knows that the only reason she hasn’t ended up in rehab is that she has an incredible therapist and a highly persuasive manner of dealing with her friends and family. The only reason they’ve taken that chance on her is time, and she’s grateful for that mercy.

She turns the page, hitting the final line for the third time. Chaol’s script is so good she’s read the few pages she’s been sent over and over.

She only reads scripts in physical copies, takes the time to print them out using her shitty printer that belongs right back in 2008, and she knows it’s wasteful but she allows herself that small luxury of the crisp paper in her hand as she delves into each new world. Her character is in the middle of a teary monologue that she knows exactly how she’d do, the way she’d halt her breath and choke out the words-- it’s not her character. Yet.

The audition is next week, and she’ll work her ass off to make sure she’s ready. Her usual pre-audition ritual involves taking up far too much of Lysandra’s time to practice reading the lines and filming herself time after time, take after take, and watching it back in the unholy hours of night until she’s happy she’s made an improvement.

Or at least that’s how she used to do it, nothing has made her want a role like this in a long while. She worries as she bites her lip, that wanting something this much means she’s getting over Sam. That maybe one day she won’t think of him and hear the pounding in her ears, won’t feel the lightheadedness that comes with a memory of their time together. Worries that if she forgets the sounds of his screams she’s failing him somehow.

She takes another sip of her sparkling water. It’s poured into a wine glass so she can at least pretend she’ll get the relaxation she craves. Alcohol was never one of her vices but she finds it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s unhealthy as far as coping mechanisms go, but she’s been worse so it’s going down as a win.

Chaol told her some guy called Brullo is casting this one. She’s never heard of him, which is kind of rare. She’s been on the periphery of this bubble for pretty much her entire life, following her mother around her own movie sets and sitting on the wooden directors chair when her legs still dangled off the side, but if he’s like any other casting director in Adarlan she knows how to impress him.

When she reaches the last line of the part of the script she’s been sent, her mind wanders again to Rowan Whitethorn.

He’s the kind of director up and coming actors can only hope to one day work with, even though she’s pretty sure he can’t be much more than thirty, he’s built himself to a level where he can be choosy with his projects.

It's a well deserved privilege. Each of his works has stayed with her after watching, his style is gritty and dark, but grounded in a way that leaves her empty each time after finishing.

She wants this, and she buries the guilt she feels for that. Sam would want her to want this. She deserves it, or at least she hopes she can come to.

Dorian books her a mid-morning flight so she doesn’t have to wake too early before the audition, he’s a damn good agent and one she definitely doesn’t deserve with his seemingly endless patience, but she’s continuously grateful for him.

Aelin styles herself for it, ties her hair back and leaves the makeup to a minimum in a way that she hopes shows them she’s right for the part, that she can be the insecure little girl who experiences far too much. She knows she doesn’t have the sheltered innocence the character has, but she’s an actress and this is what she does. Aelin pretends for a living.

He’s also booked her a room in a pretty nice hotel for the night, she’s not sure whether he’s used her meagre acting funds or the funds from the account she knows he mom throws money into every month. It’s an argument she and Evalin have had repeatedly, she wants to stand on her own two feet, but she never protests too hard. The account kept the roof over her head when she was too busy snorting her life away to consider where her next paycheck would come from.

Aelin throws herself backwards into the crisp white bedding on the hotel room bed and takes a deep breath. The only luggage she brought with her is a carry on slung somewhere by the door and the room feels too empty to sit here and wait for the car that’s arriving to take her to the studio in just over an hour. If she sits here and waits the nerves will only build, and then she’ll itch for something to take the edge off.

She picks her phone up to text her cousin.

Jet lag from a 2 hour flight. Who would have thought?

Aelin waits two minutes for a reply, locking and unlocking her phone as she sits there, but one doesn’t come. Aedion’s probably at a training session and not checking his phone. Aelin runs a hand through her hair, careful not to dislodge the pins she placed carefully in it this morning, she needs to stop using him as her crutch. She knows he doesn’t mind, but it’s not right either way.

She needs to get out of this room.

The streets of Rifthold are busy and crammed as she meanders down them, clutching the takeout coffee cup she bought from a vendor with a stall at the side of the road.

People pay her no mind as she walks, the oversized shades hide her eyes that she knows are a dead giveaway for her membership of the Ashryver line. Even if she didn’t wear them, everybody else here wants to be someone, and so far she can still blend in if she tries.

She sends a text to the assistant organising the audition, it’s kind of shitty of her but she keeps it brief because she can’t remember their name, letting them know the car isn’t needed anymore and that she’ll make her own way there. She needs the stroll through the streets to clear her head.

Aelin needs to nail it. She hasn’t felt the twisting of desire so sharp in her stomach for a long time and the only way she’ll manage it is with a clear head.

She alternates her breathing with sips of her coffee, the taste is bitter but she keeps drinking. She pulls her phone out to check the directions to the studio.

Spontaneous isn’t a word Aelin would use to describe herself anymore, any longing to go with the flow died the minute she lost control. It’s safer now to plan, to make sure she won’t lead herself astray.

Brullo is a man in his mid forties, with dashes of grey seasoned through his muddy brown hair, and kind lines around his eyes as he smiles and shakes her hand. Aelin wipes the sweat off her palm on her jeans before clasping her hand in his.

The audition goes about as well as she can hope for, she remembers every line, and the other casting director is fairly natural reading the lines for her to act against. Aelin swallows back her tears after she finishes, trying to keep what dignity she can to end the audition when there’s snot threatening to run down her upper lip. It was a brutal scene to start with, but if she can pull this off she can surely manage the rest.

Brullo’s expression is carefully guarded as she leaves, giving nothing away, but Aelin thinks she did a good job, which is all she could have ever hoped for.

She’s staring at the tiled floor, mulling over Brullo’s parting words, thanks Aelin, our people will be in touch, when she hits something hard and warm.

She’s too busy dissecting those eight words to register exactly who it is with their hands clamped around the top of her arms, steadying her as she stumbles, but she looks up and her gaze meets that of a pair of striking, green eyes.

The man gripping her is easily over a head taller than her, broad and strong enough that she fights back the shiver that wants to roll through her at his touch. He’s staring down at her, the strong planes of his face drawn into a deep frown, with his strangely coloured eyebrows pulled in.

They’re a kind of silver that matches his short cut hair, and it shines in the fluorescent light of the hallway in a way that it can only be natural, but she’s never seen a shade quite like it.

“Sorry,” she manages to stutter out, still thrown from the vulnerability of her audition.

“It’s alright.” His voice burns through the words, his accent rolling in a way that raises hairs down the back of her neck. He flashes her a dangerous grin and she steadies herself. She knows what that look means. She’s used to the male attention, and as much as she hates to acknowledge it, she knows her looks are an element of how she’s got as far as she has. That and her family’s name.

The decision of whether to register in the guild as Aelin Ashryver or Aelin Galathynius was one she had spent hours deliberating over. Did she want the level of independence Galathynius would give her, or the reputation being an Ashryver would bring?

The man releases his grip on her shoulders, but not before running his hands down her arms until he reaches her wrists which he releases with a light squeeze. She takes an almost imperceptible step back, leaning back to breathe some air into her lungs. All she ends up doing is filling her mind with this man’s smell, inviting and intoxicating, a delicious combination of pine trees and snowy winter mornings.

“I don’t usually go around slamming into people like this,” she tells him, letting some of her snark slip through. He’s said two words to her so far but she knows he can take it, and she wants to play.

His grin becomes even more wicked and it truly is a sight to see. This man is built like a god; broad, muscular shoulders stretching the white button up he wears and she spies the dark lines of a tattoo threatening to slip past his collar.

It’s been a couple of months since her last mindless hook-up, and this man would more than do. The mischief glimmering in his eyes tells her he’d know how to make her gasp and beg.

“Slam into me anytime.” His words are a sensual croon and her mouth drops open slightly, but he sidesteps her before she can manage to speak again, nodding towards the door she’s come through. “Good luck with whatever you were here for.”

With that he’s gone, leaving her to turn and watch the way his grey slacks pull against his thighs as he walks away from her.

Aelin tries not to think too much about the outcome of the audition, and flies back to Orynth in economy class with a sleep mask tucked over her eyes lest she be recognised when all she wants to do is curl up in bed and be alone for a bit. That or get fucking wasted, and she can’t do that.

She tries far too hard to forget about the man from the hallway, forget about the way his voice had rumbled deep in her chest and the tug in her belly that his words had sent through her.

She begs Elide to come to a bar with her, and she agrees. Aelin needs to pay her more, maybe change her title from publicist to publicist-come-part-time-therapist-and-life-saver. Aelin’s not sure she has the budget for that really.

Elide would smack her if she knew Aelin’s thoughts. Would scold her for looking at Elide just like an employee as if they weren’t childhood friends and Elide hadn’t been there holding her hand through the whole Sam thing. As if she, Lysandra and Aedion hadn’t been her only reason for being here now.

A bar might be a risk, but she can sip her sparkling water while she browses the small selection of men that Orynth has to offer.

She enjoys the easy conversation she has with Elide, chatting about what their friends have been up to, even though most of them are mainly Elide’s friends at this point. After Sam she stopped speaking to everyone but those who were necessary. She couldn’t manage any more than that.

“You should come with us next time,” Elide is saying as she sips her own lemonade. Aelin knows Elide would normally choose a crisp glass of white wine over a lemonade and her sobriety solidarity touches her heart.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, noncommittal.

The look Elide wears tells her she’s debating pushing the issue for the millionth time against the risk that Aelin would pull back again. She hates that she does this to her friends so she sighs.

“Text me next time,” she tries. “I’ll see if I’m free.”

Elide offers her a thankful smile, and Aelin returns it, trying to tell herself this is what she needs and that she shouldn’t just stay locked up thinking about Sam.

There’s a dark haired guy at the bar catching her eye, his jeans are far too tight and his shirt is ridiculous, but she can see the body beneath and his face is striking. Elide notices her stare and smirks.

She likely knows why Aelin invited her out tonight, but doesn’t mind. Lorcan’s probably waiting for her at the home they share, waiting for her to come back so they can be in love. Aelin hates the bastard, except she doesn’t. She introduced her friend to the tall, dark and grouchy hockey player at the wrap party for the shit teen movie she did a couple of years back, and she’s big enough to admit she wants what they have.

She had what they have.

What’s left in her glass slips down her throat easily in one mouthful and she promises to text Elide tomorrow before slipping out of the booth and over to the guy at the bar.

“You going to just stare at me all night?” She asks with a sly smile. “Or did you plan on doing something about it at some point?”

His smile makes him look even more attractive.

“Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move, a beautiful girl like you can be intimidating.”

It’s a shit line and she rolls her eyes, but tugs him into a cab back to her place anyway.

“Please.” Her voice shakes as she begs. “Please don’t do this.”

The man in front of them scoffs and Sam squeezes her hand, his palm rough against her own.

“Aelin, baby. It’s okay, just do what he says.”

He lets go of her hand and turns back to the guy in front of them. His face is covered by a black mask, only two slits show her the dark brown of his eyes. She can barely look away from the knife he holds out in front of himself, it’s pointed at Sam but that doesn’t make her feel any better, it makes her feel worse in fact.

“Your wallet,” the guy demands.

Tears are rolling down her cheeks, fat and hot, as she fishes around in her bag for her purse.

“Just dump the whole thing,” the guy growls, irritated, but she’s pretty sure she’s going into shock and she can’t focus. Can’t breathe.

Sam’s voice is steady by her side as he throws his own wallet onto the street in front of them.

“Alright, man. We’re doing everything you say.”

“Hands up.” The mugger’s voice is sharp. “Don’t fucking move.”

She raises her arms straight in the air, trying to control the way her hands are shaking and the attacker ducks down to grab their things.

She lets out a tiny whimper and feels Sam spin to her, his eyes begging her to trust him. No, she shakes her head.

“I said don’t fucking move,” the guy yells and lunges for Sam.

His scream cuts the night air and she whirls, hands dropping into the air between them as he drops to the ground. The mugger takes off, sprinting down the empty street and she falls to her knees by Sam’s side.

In the dark, the pool spilling out across the floor by Sam’s side just looks black, but she knows that really it’s red. She’s not stupid. His face is twisted in pain and her hands flutter around his torso before she manages to pull back the flap of his jacket.

There’s a hole in his white t-shirt and now her jeans are wet where she kneels.

She needs her phone, needs to call someone who can make this all better, but her phone is gone.

She presses her hands against his side and his eyes shutter closed as he gasps. His breathing is stuttered and uneven.

“Sam. Sam, no,” she cries. “I’ll get help. You’re okay.”

“Aelin.” He raises a hand to press against her cheek, and the blood on it is sticky and warm.

“No, Sam. No, stay with me.”

The scream that tears through her throat will hurt tomorrow but now she barely feels it. “HELP!”

His breathing becomes much quicker as she presses on his side and screams again.

She knows abstractly that she’s crying, tears and snot streaming down her face as she desperately presses her hands against his side.

There’s a strong arm around her waist, tugging her back and away from Sam, and she screams one word over and over.

“No, no, no, no.”

There are people here now, leaning over Sam, leaning over his body.

“NO.”

Aelin gasps as she launches up in her bed. The sheets are stuck to her clammy skin and her head flies to the side. The guy is gone, the side of the bed he occupied when she fell asleep now cold. Good.

She lives it over and over in her dreams, sees the dark street more often than not, feels the phantom warmth of his blood down her legs. Wakes screaming herself hoarse just as she did that night. She doesn’t normally let people stay the night. Even when Aedion tried for the first few weeks after the fact, she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t turn her brain off for even a second. Every time she closed her eyes she was back on that street, begging and pleading for him to open his eyes.

She grasps at her side for the switch of her bedside lamp and flicks it on. Her room is cold and empty and she hasn’t had it in her to decorate past the basics so it’s plain and impersonal when she looks around, trying to calm her breathing.

She checks the time. 6:25am. Not bad, she must have managed about six hours of sleep last night, and it’s more than she usually gets.

There're a few texts waiting in her inbox, including one from Elide, and she expects it to be a request to let her know that she got home safe but it’s not.

Call me as soon as you wake up.

Sent at 6:02am. Elide is a chronic overworker, no matter how much Aelin begs her to stick to a 9 to 5 schedule, but she couldn't imagine her friend any other way. The smiling emoji at the end of the text lets her know it’s nothing she needs to panic about, so she takes a moment to scroll through her other messages. It’s unusual for her to wake up to so many.

She clicks on her conversation with Dorian, the only message she can see, his most recent one, just says Aelin. He has sent her nine messages while she slept, and she scrolls up to reach the first one.

Aelin, you did it. You booked the Rowan Whitethorn movie.

Her heart pounds in her chest, running into overdrive as she processes the words on her screen.

She got the part. She fucking did it.

This is one of those moments she knows she’ll remember.

Dorian has forwarded over a number of contracts and official things but she ignores them in favour of dialling Elide’s number.

“Aelin!” Her friend’s voice is breathy when she answers. “Congratulations, I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, El.” A pause where she takes a deep breath in. “I can’t believe it.”

She falls back onto her mattress, pressing a fist to her lips as she smiles, eyes closed, almost giddy as she listens to her friend talk.

“They’re putting a press release out today at 12:30, announcing you and the male lead, who I haven’t found out yet but I will.”

“Oh my gods,” she sighs, covering her eyes with a clammy hand.

“I know,” Elide laughs.

She allows herself one tear as she stares up at the white of her ceiling.

This is big, she can feel it.

Later her phone buzzes as Elide sends her links to two different articles breaking the news.

Fenrys Moonbeam and Aelin Ashryver to star in new Chaol Westfall drama. More to follow.

Rowan Whitethorn signs on to direct The Crescent City, the latest project from Chaol Westfall (Throne of Glass, The King’s Hand & more).

She presses the phone to her chest as she lets out a sigh of relief.

It all moves pretty quickly from that point.

She’s on a plane back to Rifthold the next day and Chaol has sent over the whole script for her to read on the plane, bypassing Dorian completely even though that’s how it normally goes and she knows the two are like brothers.

Chaol was the one to introduce her to Dorian, and they kind of took her under their showbiz wings in the first few years she began to get really serious about acting.

They gave her the inside scoop, having been in the industry for a few more years than her. Chaol writing and making movies and Dorian doing all the background stuff like contracts and negotiations and exposure. They took her to their wrap parties that everyone knows are just networking events and introduced her to some of the big names in the industry without so much as batting an eyelid, and she knows she owes them a lot.

The script is phenomenal, and she has to try and hide the tears that form when she reaches the end, it probably wouldn’t be the best start to the project, being photographed crying on the plane on the way to start shooting. It really is some of Chaol’s best work, and she sends him a text when she lands that says fuck you, I hate it, but his reply lets her know he knows she’s joking.

It tells the story of her character, Feyre, and how she’s dragged into selling drugs to pay for her mom’s hospital bills. Along the way she meets Fenrys Moonbeam’s character, Rhysand, the glowering bad-boy who’s well established in the gang and together they see some shit and do some shit but manage to get out together. The topics are kind of cliché and over done, but Chaol has managed to add a level of originality to it that makes it really special.

It’s heavier on the romance than Rowan Whitethorn’s previous projects, but it’s gritty enough that she can see why he’s signed on. It’s going to be hard, she knows this, and it will really push her to her limits trying to embody the range of emotions her character goes through. But she wants it, and she will make her performance incredible if it fucking kills her.

There’s a niggling part of her brain that reminds her that she’s surrounded by some big names on this project, names that are big for a reason, and she can’t let them hiring her be a mistake.

She sends Chaol a follow up text, wtf are these names btw???

He ignores her.

When she’s in the car taking her to the apartment the studio is renting out for her while they film she decides to take a little trip through Instagram and look up her new co-star. Fenrys is a household name by now, a couple of years in after his debut, but it can’t hurt to know a little more about her leading man.

f.moonbeam01 comes up as the first option when the types the three letters f e n into the search bar and he has over eleven million followers.

Shit.

Not that she needs a reminder but it slaps her in the face that this is actually big. Aelin only has a few thousand followers herself and Elide has already told her to prepare herself for that to rise.

His Instagram is a mixture of mostly photos of himself, some selfies and some professional shots, and he’s obviously gorgeous. His deep brown complexion playing well against his golden curls with a straight strong nose and flawless white teeth. He’s definitely leading man material, and she can tell just how charming his grin is even through a screen.

There are also promo pictures for all the movies he’s involved in at the moment, there are at least three projects he has coming out this year. Damn.

His most recent picture is a screenshot of the article announcing their casting, and he’s actually tagged her in the photo along with Rowan himself. She hasn’t seen the tag until now, it’s normally Elide’s job as her publicist to tackle the professional side to her social media, but there’s 6.4 million likes on the photo.

Again, shit.

She can’t help herself from clicking onto Rowan’s account, rowanwhitethorn is a pretty simple handle. He only has 27 posts, most of them are behind the scenes shots from projects, one with his classic director’s chair that has his surname printed across the back in thick white lettering, and a few pictures of different cameras and pieces of equipment.

There’s only one picture of him on there, and it’s from 2017. He has his back to the camera and the sunset behind him lends a shadow that covers all of his features. Very artsy she muses to herself as she double taps the screen to like it, he probably won’t see anyway, the notification will probably get lost in the ones his account no doubt gets from his 2 million followers. The only thing she can gather from the photo about his physical appearance is that he has pretty broad shoulders.

She’s tempted to google him, wanting to know what he looks like, but she feels a bit too much like a stalker, and she knows she’ll meet him in a couple of days anyway so she leaves it and pulls up her emails to reply to the seemingly endless list of forms she has to fill out and send back to Dorian.

The apartment she’s living in for the next few months is modern and airy, with clean lines and bright decor. Aelin likes it, and while it’s not hers in the same way as her home back in Orynth, it’s far better than a hotel room that lower budget movies tend to shove actors in. Another reminder that this time is different, there’s a bigger budget than she’s used to, bigger names than she’s used to, and she can’t fuck this up. There’s more eyes on her now than ever before.

She sends Elide a picture of her new bedroom and her friend just replies with a bunch of exclamation marks and she forwards the picture across to Lysandra too. Aelin wanders through to the kitchen, wondering if anyone bothered to stock the kitchen, not that she can’t do groceries herself, it would just be nice. She’s delighted to find a fridge full of fresh produce and gets about making herself a dish of pasta and veggies.

She tucks herself in front of the big television, munching away as she watches some National Geographic documentary about whales and it helps to take her mind off the fact that this is her last night of peace for a while. She’s trying not to get too in her head about it, there’s a fine line between knowing it’s a big deal and freaking the fuck out about it, and she needs to stay on the right side of that line, needs to keep herself in check.

If she allows herself a moment to relax, a moment to sink into the situation and bask in the opportunity; she’s excited.

And depending on how well this movie does, she knows she may not have another night like this one. Somehow the thought doesn’t seem to scare her.

Lysandra calls her as she’s waiting for the car to arrive to take her to the studio, it's day one of their table read today and she’s tired. She spent all of last night tossing and turning, unable to shut her mind off and panicking over every single detail of how this day could go.

She’s lucky it’s only a table read, she’s not sure even a professional make-up artist would be able to cover the dark circles under her eyes.

“Hello, you.” Lysandra’s voice is cheery through the phone and Aelin smiles, she’s really missed Lysandra and hasn’t taken nearly enough time to seek her out during her recent whirlwind. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

They had texted since the news dropped, but with Lysandra shooting a campaign for a brand she can’t remember somewhere over in the Southern Continent they haven’t had time yet for a call.

“Thanks Lys,” she says as she gets into the back of the sleek black car that the studio has sent for her, tucking her small black backpack onto the seat next to her. It’s all she can use at this point, any other bag just makes her think of that night.

“How’s it going? Have you met everyone yet?”

Lysandra runs in these circles of A list celebrities and Aelin wouldn't be surprised if she already knew Fenrys. She met Lysandra when they were teens; years before her first show for Victoria’s Secret, years before she was walking for people like Gucci and Prada, and they stayed close when they were both living off cheap ramen and thin strands of hope. Aelin likes to tease her about hanging with a lowly C-lister like herself but Lysandra is always quick to quip that she’s maybe a G-lister at a push.

That could change.

“I haven’t met anyone so far, but I’m literally on my way to meet everyone now.”

“That’s exciting, you’ll have to let me know if Fenrys Moonbeam is really that good looking in person.”

“So you don’t already know him?” she asks, teasing. Maybe Lysandra doesn’t know quite everyone.

“Oh you know, apart from every week-end when we hook-up, we’re not really that good friends.”

Aelin laughs, mostly to herself, knowing that somewhere out there that probably is a story that’s cropped up in some cheap tabloid. She knows there’s probably some dating rumours about herself and Fenrys already even though she’s still yet to meet him. It’s just how it is, she knows this, has known this since she was old enough to read the stories about her parents’ messy divorce.

“What does Aedion have to say about that, hm?”

“Oh, he joins us obviously!” Lysandra’s laugh is bright and loud through the grainy speaker.

No-one is more desperate for Aedion to propose to Lysandra than Aelin, not even the magazines, desperate for a scoop of the golden couple, quarterback for the Rifthold Ravens and the world-famous supermodel.

“I think I’ve heard enough, thanks,” Aelin laughs as the car pulls through security checks at the studio. “Lys, I have to go, I’ve just got to the studio.”

“Okay, good luck! Promise you’ll call me later though and let me know how it goes.”

She needs to make sure she puts aside a minute to catch up properly with Lysandra, she’s been slacking recently and she knows her friend misses her. She misses Lysandra too, and Aedion. Maybe she’ll stay with them for a couple of days when she gets a break from filming, she can probably see them far more often now that she’s in Rifthold too.

“I promise,” she agrees. “Tell Aedion to make sure he spoils you from me.”

Lysandra snorts, “Oh he does, I’ll pass it along anyway though.”

“Means a lot. Love you, got to go.”

Lysandra’s returning love you is sincere, but she cuts off the phone as the car comes to a stop outside the plain brick building.

She readies herself in the back of the car, pulling down a deep breath to center herself, she can do this.

The girl leading her to the room doesn’t speak other than to tell Aelin to follow right this way, and she’s grateful, she’s not sure she could speak right now without vomiting all over the dated linoleum flooring.

She needs to get a grip, and fight the urge for a hit that strikes her when she’s nervous like this. It could make her fears disappear, at least for a moment before they all came crashing back down ten-times worse the minute the high faded. There is a reason she packed that shit in, and she knows her nerves will pass. It’s been a while since she’s done any of this, her last movie read was pre-Sam and no matter how hard she tries to push it down, there’s a lot of pressure on her for this to go well.

The girl pauses outside an unassuming white door and holds a hand out to gesture for Aelin to go in. She rolls her shoulders back, holding her head high before she steps into the room. If all else fails she’s still Evalin Ashryver’s daughter and to some people that is something to be proud of.

Fenrys Moonbeam is the first person to catch her eye when she steps into the room, and it seems he’s done some stalking too because he ends his conversation by the food table with some others she doesn’t recognise and bounds straight over to her with a grin.

“Aelin Ashryver,” he says, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. “I’ve heard of you. It’s a pleasure.”

“You have?” She’s both surprised and not at the same time as she holds a hand out for him to shake.

He bypasses the hand she holds out and tugs her into his chest, wrapping both arms around her and knocking her backpack off her shoulder.

“I have,” he says as he bends down to pick her bag back up. “Sorry about that.”

She shakes her head. She needs to stop acting like a bewildered school girl meeting the Queen, she needs to remember that she has second billing for this movie thanks to Dorian.

“Don’t worry about it.” Aelin finds a smile and plasters it on.

Someone calls for everyone to take their seats and she notices the name placards spaced out in front of each chair. She locates her own and it's surreal to see her name printed there, Aelin Ashryver, between Fenrys and another actress playing her sister called Manon Blackbeak. She’s even less known than Aelin, and she only feels slightly guilty for how much that relaxes her.

Aelin knows how this goes down, they sit opposite the production team, the director and all the executive producers and she realises that she’s opposite the sign that reads Rowan Whitethorn.

She slides into her seat, Fenrys and Manon chatting over her head as she does, and she spots a male slipping into the chair opposite her. He’s wearing a slim-fit forest green henley and dark jeans, his shoulders are just as broad as they were in his Instagram photo and here there’s no shadow across his handsome features.

She can’t deny that he’s attractive, she knew it the first time she saw him. Her stare locks onto the man from the hallway after her audition and he smirks at her as if they have a secret. And maybe they do, but now she’s realising that he’s her boss, and a little voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Elide is whispering to her that opportunities like this don’t come around everyday.

She owes it to Sam and she owes it to herself not to fuck this up, but the look that Rowan Whitethorn is sending her across the table makes her think she could risk it all.

It takes them three hours to run through it in full, and she’s happy to see she’s not the only one with a tear in her eye at the end. Rowan doesn’t cry, but he hasn’t looked at her since before they started and each time she read a line she avoided looking at him. She knows there were a couple of times where he nodded along with her expression of the lines. She’s ignoring it.

This is what she lives to do, they’re not even filming yet and she feels like she’s right where she needs to be. It’s cliche but she breathes easier when she acts, the air feels lighter when she takes on a new personality and feels all the things she’s told to feel.

It takes away the restlessness she feels when it’s all just down to her, being told how to feel is far easier.

Her therapist tells her she has both anxiety and PTSD, but she feels like giving it a name doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. She knows a diagnosis can be a relief for some, but to Aelin, what she feels is far too messy to be summed up in four letters. Her life has simply become the before, and the after, even though what each of those contains is a complete fucking shit show.

There are two Aelins; pre that night and post that night.

The Aelin from before that night doesn’t exist anywhere but in her own memory.

Once the run through is completed and basic notices are given by the producers, things like call sheet distributions and health and safety, the occupants of the room begin to mingle. She sees him make a beeline for her, and she swallows. She’s not ready for this.

“You look surprised to see me.” His voice is as hot as it was the last time she saw him, the slight rasp in his throat and his accent. Gods, the accent.

“You don’t look too surprised to see me.” She tilts her head at him because she feels way thrown off, like he has all the power here. Which he does. But like, she can play it cool. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? “Maybe had a little google search?”

He shakes his head at her, biting his lip kind of like he wants to laugh, and she bristles. She needs to level the playing field.

“Says you.” He’s definitely laughing now. “I saw you liked my photo last night.”

“What about it?” She shrugs, hoping her acting skills are up to it. He only tilts his head to the side as he takes her in.

“Do you think I didn’t know who you were in the corridor? I’m the director.” And fuck him for saying it like that, full of an easy confidence that in any other situation would have had heat pooling in the floor of her stomach. “Brullo discussed the casting with me.”

Right. Of course.

She’s not sure what to say next. Honestly? She kind of wants to flirt with him, but fuck.

Instead she hums a laugh, not really caring whether he thinks it’s sincere or not, and looks absentmindedly around the room instead of back up at him. He reaches a hand out to brush his fingers down her arm, looping them round the bones of her wrist and squeezing slightly like he did the last time before letting go. Her eyes snap back to his.

“Just between you and me?” he asks and the smile he wears is far too hot for her to deal with right now. “I think we made a good choice.”

“Thanks,” she says, but it’s a little too breathy. A little too dazed for having spent such a short amount of time in his presence. She’s aware that she needs to be careful, they are very much not alone in this room right now, and she doesn’t need to start any rumours that would destroy her chances of escaping this without a scandal.

She’s here to do a job, and she’s going to do it well. She doesn’t need any distractions.

He leaves her soon after that, and his parting remark of “have a good first day, Aelin” sticks with her, and she tries not to replay the way his voice had wrapped around her name.

Manon Blackbeak is watching them from across the room, and she arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at Aelin. She ignores her; let her think what she wants, she’s surely professional enough not to gossip to any press, and stomps over to where Fenrys is chatting with one of the producers. It seems like a good enough place to start.

#rowaelin #rowaelin au #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #nobody does it like you do #ndilyd #im so nervous to post this lol #hope you all enjoy #cw: past drug abuse #cw: minor character death #cw: violence

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takuyakistall · 3 years ago

Text

threads that connect us

At first, you had no idea what everyone around you kept on saying. The threads that connect everybody together, it took your breath away the first time you saw it. A beautiful sight that reminded you that no one is truly alone on this earth. What’s a better way to enjoy it than letting someone you love witness it with you?

The ability to be able to see the things no normal people would normally see wasn’t an ability you possessed from birth. Your family came from a long line of magicians blessed with the Tailor’s Eye. Despite what that name implies, the only tailor from your family lineage stretched back to a few hundred years ago who was said to be the very reason why they had the special sight in their possession. It was said that she used to sew until her fingers bled. A certain customer that came across her was so taken by the clothes she made, touched by her dedication and skill. So he blessed her with the ability to see things the naked human eye cannot.

Ever since then, the ability was passed down from generation to generation to the firstborn of every family. It was not something they possessed from birth, it was something they get after reaching a certain age. Those who got hold of it had said the pain that came with it was excruciating as it felt as if their eyes were being burned until it turned into a different colour. You were no exception. And as the name implies, it was only one eye that shall turn into a different colour—people often thought your family just had very strong genes with the way every firstborn had heterochromia.

After you had reached a certain age, your vision suddenly became blurry and you already collapsed from the pain as you put a hand over your eyes, hoping to soothe the pain that came with the so-called blessing. The moment you opened your eyes, a whole new world was before you—everything you had known about the Tailor’s Eye up to this point was quickly washed away after experiencing it yourself. When your mother said it would reveal things you normally wouldn’t see, you thought it had something to do with the supernatural.

Much to your surprise, it had nothing to do with ghosts or anything of the sort. What you saw was far different from the things you imagined. Threads—fitting for a child of a family with a history of becoming great tailors. Never in your wildest dreams have you thought that you would see threads. Threads that connect people, whether it be the red thread that told you who was fated together or the nearly invisible thread that told you about friends who have yet to meet.

It was overwhelming at first, the sight of so many threads at once nearly made you lose your head as you figured out which was which. So many threads tangled together it was nearly impossible for you to tell which was which, was this really a blessing?

Though with time, you have learned to appreciate it as you were going to have to live with it now. Seeing thousands of those strings connecting people together was something you’ve come to love with your heart, a beautiful sight that constantly reminded you that no one was truly alone on this earth no matter what you think. There was not a single person that did not have a thread attached to them, loneliness is never eternal.

Your job, as someone who possesses this power, is to make sure that both ends of the thread on the brink of snapping meet in the end. In this world, there are countless threads that are about to snap as well. Whether it be because of fate or interference from an outsider not meant to get involved, though not always, there are special cases wherein you have to step in to ensure the fate of certain people don’t get into an intangible mess.

Upon entering NRC, the first thing you did was explore where the threads lead you. It was rare, but there are times where those who possess this special sight can see their own strings. A nearly invisible thread that made your heart race, a friend you haven't met yet. To say you were excited was an understatement, that string led to none other than a first year.

“What’s your name?” You asked, curiosity sparkling in your eyes as you saw the countless threads attached to him. No red in sight, you began to grow more interested. His skin looked like fine porcelain, his eyes shined brightly like sapphires and his hair of the colour lavender—he looked like a doll made by the finest dollmaker.

“Epel Felmier, yours?” His round and inquiring eyes made you smile wider, his voice was as beautiful as you thought it would be. You stretched your hand towards him and shot him a grin with the intent to make a good impression, you were fated to be connected to each other after all. You told him your name and shortly after, he took your hand in his and shook it. It was the start of your story with him.

With time, you came to know the multiple sides to him. You came to love him for the way he is with your heart, though there was something that scared you from the bottom of your heart. Epel had no red thread attached to him whatsoever, it was as if the world was telling you that he was not your fated to be. You understood the words of your elders when they said that those eyes could easily become a curse under certain circumstances; falling in love was one of them.

If the one you fell in love with had a red string attached to someone else who wasn’t you, wouldn’t that become unbearable? Epel had none, that could only mean one thing to you. He wasn’t going to fall for anyone. Not for you, not for anyone, fate had decided to let him be that way. You thought it was impossible and yet, he was living proof of otherwise. It was futile to try and deny it.

As time passed by, you came to hate seeing such threads in your field of vision. You cursed it, it was no blessing to you as it burdened you with the weight of knowing Epel will never be truly yours. A cruel fate that you wished would change… But your feelings for the boy remained unchanging. The last bit of irrationality you held told you that it wouldn’t be bad to remain friends with him when it tore your heart to bits during your every waking moment.

It wasn’t so bad, it wasn’t so bad, right? Convincing yourself that was a difficult task.

“Do you know how to sew?” You asked him, holding up a thread and needle.

“A little bit, my grandmother taught me the basics at least.” You handed him the thread and needle, and without another word, he grabbed a white piece of fabric and started sewing to show you his basic skill set.

“My family is famous for being skilled craftsmen. My grandfather used to tell me that life is like a finished piece of embroidery, one stitch at a time taken patiently and the pattern will come out right,” you trailed off. “But I never really liked sewing, you know?”

Maybe it was because Epel was too focused on his current task but his only reply was an offhand comment asking you why. You decided to change the subject after a quick look at him, you felt your heart beat faster.

“Hey, do you wanna see the threads that connect everyone together? You know, the thing they tell children in legends.” You heard him let out a scoff, he thought you were being ridiculous. You pouted, “What’s with that reaction, I’m serious!”

“As if we can see it. We might have magic but that sort of thing is impossible to see—does it even exist in the first place?”

“It’s just a matter of whether or not you want to see it.” With your magic pen in hand, you utter out a spell and before Epel could fully comprehend what was happening around him, a burst of colours invaded his vision without any prior warning as countless threads suddenly appeared out of nowhere in front of him.

No words left his lips as he felt as if his breath was being taken away by the overwhelming sight. He frantically looked towards your direction and for a split second, he swore he saw a glint of red light coming from one of the many threads attached to you—the thread that was also attached to him. Not long after a few seconds, the vision suddenly disappeared and everything was back to normal.

Epel stood up and approached you, urgency present in everything he does. “What the hell was that!?”

“Haha! It looks like I startled you,” you laughed.

“Damn right I was!”

“Don’t worry, I just exchanged our vision for a few seconds so you could experience the world through my eyes. I must say, having a normal sight like yours felt very foreign to me now that my ‘normal’ is different.”

“You live like this?” He was beyond baffled, “you should’ve given me a warning beforehand.”

You took a step closer to him, tilting your head slightly. Epel’s cheeks flushed slightly.

“I thought my previous question was sufficient. But enough of that! How was it?”

“I… have a lot of questions, of course. But, for now, does the red string of fate exist in your world too?”

“Yup! Why do you ask?” The romantic legend about the red string of fate, those at the opposite ends are supposed to be soulmates. “I didn’t know you were into romantic stuff like that, Epel.”

“It’s nothing much…” He covered his mouth with his hand, the realization suddenly dawning on him. That sight he saw earlier… wasn’t just his eyes playing tricks on him, right?

#twisted wonderland epel #epel felmier #twst epel #epel felmier x reader #epel x reader #this was supposed to be longer but i got lazy HJASHHAS #twst writing #my writing #twst x reader #unedited too (skull emoji) have my raw rot

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tinydooms · 3 years ago

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I am so sorry to hear about your situation, I hope you are otherwise doing well. May I please request a prompt for Evie and Rick having a reading day (specifically set right after the first film, so they still are a little awkward around each other but still love and trust one another... I don't know, what ever you write, I love, so hopefully this gave you some inspiration but take it where you please :))

Thank you for your kind words! It's been a hell of a week, but I'm finally feeling better. Here is your fic: I hope you like it!

Cairo, October 1922

Evie woke up from her nap slowly, coming up out of deep sleep to find her Fort Brydon bedroom full of afternoon sunlight. The ceiling fan hummed overhead; the apartment was quiet save for the soft sound. Evie stretched, relishing the pull of her muscles and the softness of the bed beneath her. It was good to be back.

Her stomach gurgled and with a sigh, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Time for tea. Hot tea, and lots of it, and maybe a sandwich or three. She was starving. There was nothing like roughing it in the desert to bring one’s attention to the blessings of home and a fully-stocked larder. Would the men be hungry? Probably. She had left Rick and Jonathan to their own devices after Dr. Wilkinson had looked them all over earlier that day; he had prescribed plenty of water and rest after their long, hot trek back from Hamunaptra. Opening her bedroom door, Evie looked around for the men. Jonathan’s bedroom door was closed; he was probably napping. Rick was where Evie had left him earlier, lying on his cot by the window with a couple of ice packs soothing his cracked ribs, head cushioned on a stack of pillows, a book in hand. He looked up as she came into the room.

“Hey,” Rick said, flashing her that sideways smile. “Did you have a good sleep?”

“Yes, thanks,” Evie said. “What are you reading?”

Rick waved the book at her. “Ah, Persuasion. I went through your bookshelf; I hope you don’t mind.”

Evie blinked. “You’re reading Persuasion?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s one of Austen’s best and I didn’t feel like reading anything related to ancient curses. I’d only read her other one--I don’t remember the title in English--Orgueil et préjugés--the one where they despise each other at first because her family is obnoxious and he’s really shy and arrogant.” Rick lifted an eyebrow at the look on Evie’s face. “I do know how to read, you know.”

She realized that she was gaping at him, open-mouthed. Shame boiled up in Evie; of course he knew how to read. “I’m sorry. I just meant, I didn’t have you down as the type to read social satire.”

She hadn’t had him down as the type to read, period, but then, Rick had mentioned liking Arsène Lupin and Sherlock Holmes, hadn’t he? And there had been a couple of books in his suitcase last night, when she looked through it for clothes to lay out for him.

Rick grinned. "It’s okay, Evelyn. I know what I look like. We’re still getting to know each other.” He shifted, laying the book down on his stomach. “Actually, I really like reading. I’ve made it a point throughout my life to maintain membership at whatever public libraries are available.”

This was new and intriguing information. Evie sat down in the armchair and curled her legs under her.

“What sort of things do you like to read about?”

Rick cocked his head, thinking. “Honestly? I’ll read just about anything as long as I can understand it. I like detective novels and adventure stories, though I think I’m going to go off those for a while.” They grinned at each other. “I read a lot of art history books before the War, and I like a good popular history. I’m not educated; I only went to school through the eighth grade. Maybe if my mom hadn’t died, I’d have finished high school and gone to college, but, well…”

He shrugged. Life hadn’t worked out that way.

“But you read,” Evie said. “My mother used to say that anyone can learn anything they like if they are willing to read about it.”

Rick nodded. “My mom used to say something like that, too. She absolutely refused to let me quit school and get a job in a factory, even though it would have helped.” A shadow passed over his face; Evie saw him push it away. “Would you like something to eat?” he said, rising up on his elbows. “Your stomach is rumbling.”

“Oh! Yes, I’d come out for tea,” Evie said, scrambling to her feet. “Don’t get up; you’re supposed to be resting.”

Rick blinked. “I’ve been resting all day. It doesn’t hurt as bad as it did, you know.”

“Still.” Evie bustled off towards the kitchen. “You’ve looked after me so well these past weeks, it’s time for me to return the favor. Would you like a sandwich? How do you take your tea?”

Rick sat up, moving slowly. “Strong, with milk and a little honey, if you’ve got it. Thanks.”

Evie smiled at him; he smiled back. She bustled around the little kitchen, setting the kettle to boil and making up sandwiches, and when everything was ready she carried it through to the table and held out a hand to help Rick up. He took it, looking at her in a way that made her blush, and followed her to the table.

“Thank you,” he said, looking from the plate of sandwiches to Evie. “All this, I don’t-- Thank you.”

Evie smiled at him again; again, he smiled back, and for a moment they stood grinning foolishly at each other. It was all so new, this togetherness, this friendship. Funny how one could learn everything there was to know about a person’s character by their actions, and still know hardly anything about them as a person. Evie gestured for Rick to sit, and they fell on the sandwiches.

“So tell me,” Rick said after they had spent a few minutes quietly eating. “What’s your favorite book? Besides the Book of Amun-Ra. I’m sorry about that, by the way. Jonathan didn’t mean to drop it.”

“I know.” A pang flashed through Evie as she remembered the splash the book had made as it hit the water in the crypt’s brackish pool. “But we made it out with our lives, and we have all of the rubbings and sketches we made before we, er, raised him, so it’s not a complete loss. And as to your question…” She sipped her tea, thinking. “Do you mean favorite novel or favorite book? Because I’m not sure I can pick just one.”

“Top three, then.” Rick leaned on his elbow, watching her with the same interest he had shown at Hamunaptra. Evie felt herself blushing. She could get used to this.

“Well, then, I would probably have to say Professor Walter Emerson’s book on hieroglyphics, since it was a huge influence on me when I was a child; Flinders Petrie’s book Naukratis, and well, Persuasion.”

Rick grinned. “Which is why it was here, among all the books on Egyptology.”

“Quite.” Evie brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She hadn’t bothered to pin her hair up. “What about you?”

Rick sat back, cradling his teacup in his big, strong hands. “I’d say my favorite book is Around the World in Eighty Days. I have a sentimental attachment to it; it was my favorite as a kid. I’ve read it in the original French, but I like the English translation better. But if I had a top three…” He paused to sip, thinking. “I don’t know, actually. I really like Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan and John Carter books, and I like Rudyard Kipling. I read a lot of Dickens after Gallipoli; they had his complete works at the hospital my regiment was sent to afterwards.”

“You were injured?”

“No.” A shadow passed through Rick’s eyes. “I mean, yes, I got shot in the side, but it was more a flesh wound than anything else. No, they sent us to rest and recuperate before going back to battle. It was a good break.”

He put the teacup down and reached for the pot. Evie hastened to lift it and refill. She brushed Rick’s hand as she scooted the milk jug towards him. He had such beautiful hands.

“I’ve never read Dickens,” she admitted, and he gave her a surprised look. “His writing never grabbed my attention,” she added. “I was much more interested in ancient stories than modern ones.”

“You don’t say.” Rick looked amused. “And you, a librarian. Is that what you got your degree in?”

“Library science? No, I did that afterwards. I, er, I studied Classics and Antiquity at university.”

Rick shifted his hands on the table, moving them close enough to tap the back of Evie’s hand. “Tell me.”

“You don’t mind that I went to university?”

The question leaped out before she could stop it, the tiny insecurity that Evie had always carried deep inside her and only rarely acknowledged. So many men were threatened by academic women. Rick looked astonished.

“Why would I mind that you went to university?” he asked. “Everybody should have the chance to go to university. I’d have loved to go to college. And anyway, of course you’re educated, I mean, look at you. With everything that’s happened the last few weeks, we’d all have died if you hadn’t known exactly what to do and how to read those hieroglyphs and all.”

“I know. It’s just...academic women are...frowned upon by society,” she said. “And I know we met in extraordinary circumstances, but I’ve never...You don’t think I’m ridiculous?”

Rick shook his head. “Nah, Evie, I’m crazy about you.”

And the little flame of her worry flickered and died. Evie smiled at him, folded her fingers around his. Rick squeezed her hand and raised it to his lips. They were going to be just fine.

#asks and answers #prompts #my fanfics #The Mummy #Rick and Evie #Rick O'Connell #Evelyn Carnahan #it amuses me to write Rick as a reader #I mean why not?

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dameronology · 3 years ago

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more than anything {poe dameron}

summary: poe can be oddly insightful in his own way, and with the pressure of the resistance pulling you down, it's exactly what you need (for @disastersim !! i hope you enjoy angel <3)

warnings: language, one slight innuendo

enjoy!

- jazz

Working for the Resistance could be exhausting in every sense of the worst - emotionally, physically, mentally. Constantly fighting for a cause that had no guaranteed pay off was beyond challenging and the fight - the wars and the battles and the bloodshed - didn't seem to be coming to an end anytime soon. There were days where you made leaps and bounds towards entirely wiping out the First Order, in the same way that there were days when they made strides towards completely wiping out your side of the fight. It was a constant tug of war between good and bad; of course, it wasn't all that black and white, but it was difficult to see what anyone saw in the First Order's extreme principles. That was especially the case when your own comrades packed up and left the base to join them. With that said, there were more than enough people who left that side to come to yours. Ones who saw the Resistance as a source of hope- a light at the end of an awfully fucking long tunnel.

That's what you had to constantly remind yourself off: light. Hope. Courage. All the things that you'd sworn to fight for as long as you could remember - the very values that you so desperately held onto in an attempt to not completely lose it - and the ones you kept so close to your heart. Sometimes, it was easy to do so; easy to believe that the Resistance was going to pull through and that light would shine on the galaxy once again. Other times? Not so much. It was normal to have dark days and sad days but as of late, it had been dark weeks and sad weeks. Your team of fellow mechanical engineers had done their best to lift your spirits, but the weight on your soul was a little too much. It was just something that would have to pass naturally.

It had been effecting your sleep too, to the point where you found yourself wandering the base alone at night. The only other people who were awake were those on the nightshift, and the occasional droid that would whirr around the corner. From where you sat in the garage, you would hear the clank clank clank of Threepio fumbling about the base - he would sometimes say hello, and other you help with whatever it was that you were repairing or tinkering with. For the most part, though, he kept to himself. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, because his famous catchphrase of we're doomed! wasn't entirely the best thing for your morale.

So, there you were at 3AM, Poe's t-shirt hanging off your shoulders and the contents of his X-Wing laid out in front of you. Really, you were just taking it apart and putting it back together as a past time - like some kind of weird puzzle - but you were also looking at potential improvements. His only request was that you made it faster, which seemed a bit counter-intuitive when he of all people could have learnt the value of slowing down. The man was like a whirl wind, breezing in and out of different missions and meetings, barely stopping to take a break to think. The only time he truly and really calmed down was when he was with you; you were his safe space, and the only place he could let his barriers down. The pilot spent hours upon hours curled up against you, murmuring sleepily about nothing and everything all at once.

"This is a stupid time to be awake." (Speak of the devil, and thou shall appear).

Tossing your spanner down, you turned around to see Poe. He was leaning against the door, brown hair tousled with sleep and dark eyes heavy with his remaining tiredness. He was a heavy sleeper, so more often than not he didn't even realise you were gone - but if he woke up and saw your absence, there wasn't a chance in hell that he could get back to sleep. He needed you beside him at the best times, but especially at night.

"I couldn't sleep," you confessed.

"There's been a lot of that going around lately," Poe replied. He slowly approached you, holding out his arms as he did so that you could fall against his chest.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, there's a stupid owl outside my window that woke me up," he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He gently tangled your fingers together and brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. "I sent BB-8 to deal with it."

"Of course you did," you smiled. "I just gotta put this back together and I'll come back to bed."

"What's keeping you up?" Poe asked. "You've been really quiet lately."

You'd always been hesitant to tell Poe about your doubts: he was the epitome of what a good Resistance fighter was, and the beating heart of the entire cause. He never seemed to slip up, or lose hope, to the point where you sometimes wondered if he was naive. It did make sense, after all - his mother had fought hard for the Rebellion, as had his father. Having perfect balance of a rebellious side and a heart of pure fucking gold was probably engrained into his very D.N.A.

"There's a lot on my mind," you admitted. "It never seems to quieten down."

"I get that," Poe gave your hands a light squeeze. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's probably dumb-"

"- your feelings are always valid, even if they're dumb."

Hopping up onto the wings of the jet beside you, he stuck out his hand and helped you clamber up beside him. The hangar itself was freezing cold - even in the tropical climate of Ajan Kloss - so he wound an arm around your side, pulling you closer to keep you warm. Just Poe's presence alone was enough to pull your mind out the dredges, and the gentle smell of his shower gel and aftershave was a comfort too. It was a mixture of spicy and sweet.

"Go on," Poe said. "I'll be your therapist for the next ten minutes, and then forever if you want."

"What do you charge per hour, Doc?"

He nudged your side with a grin. "We'll get to that later."

You rolled your eyes, but continued all the same. "Everything's just been a lot, lately. All the fighting and the missions, and we keep having set back after set back and I'm tired. I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders and I have no way of shifting it."

Poe's brown eyes flickered away from you for a minute as he pondered on your statement. Unbeknownst to you, he absolutely related - despite his outwards hopefulness and resilient exterior, he had days where he was exhausted too. It was made even more so by the fact that people turned to him to keep them encouraged too - he did have his own brand of ironic wisdom, after all - and it really took it out of him. It was like everybody around him expected him to keep them afloat when he felt like drowning.

"I understand," Poe replied. "The galaxy is a demanding place and sometimes it's more than we can handle. I have days where I feel like everything is going wrong and I just want to curl up in my bed and sleep forever."

"Sounds so tempting," you murmured.

"It does, but that's not how it works, sadly," he continued. "You just gotta...push forward, you know? That's much easier said than done but I find the trick is to take it day by day. Have some caff, get a hug from your favourite person and just pull through til you can collapse into bed and hide under the covers."

"And you do that? Every day?"

"Not everyday," Poe said. "There are good days too, like the ones where we get to eat lunch together, or the ones where BB-8 hacks the big screen in the canteen and shows the video of Hux falling over."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. The little droid had his own way of brightening the lives of those around him, but it was that video in particular that never failed to make you laugh. He'd accidentally recorded it on a break out mission and whenever people needed reminding that the slimy bastards at the First Order weren't completely untouchable, BB-8 would be on it.

"I love those days too," you gently smiled. "The whole day by day things sounds a lot more manageable than trying to digest the concept of time as a whole."

"Exactly," Poe nodded. "And you gotta find joy in those little things. Like, whenever I'm having a really bad day, I'll come and find you and annoy you. That little smile you get when you're trying really hard not to crack and laugh at me always makes things a thousand times better."

"I like that," you replied.

"Then one day, when we've won this fight and we can go home, we can still take things day by day, but it'll be little steps towards other things, like...marriage? I think that's the next logical step."

You thinned your eyes at him. "Is this a proposal?"

"If you have to ask whether it's a proposal, then it's not a proposal," Poe shot back. "You'll know when I'm asking you to marry me."

"I look forward to it," you pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for listening to me. You can be weirdly philosophical."

"I'm smart and good looking," Poe cheekily grinned. "Man, I really am the whole package."

"And moment's gone-"

"- I'm sorry!"

He quickly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. His cheek was pressed up against your forehead, stubble tickling your skin as he held you, softly swaying from side to side.

"I love you," he murmured. "And truth be told, that's the thing that gets me through those bad days."

"You going soft on me, Dameron?" you quietly joked. "I love you too - more than anything."

Poe released his grip on you before taking your hand and helping you climb down from the jet. You still had a few hours till you had to be up and now that the emotional weight on your brain had been relieved ever-so-slightly, you were more than ready to collapse beside the pilot and get some much needed rest.

What Poe had said had begun to change your perspective on things; rather than viewing the galaxy as one whole glob of shitty things, you had to go through it with a fine toothed comb. Find the little things that were sprinkled amongst the bad things, like the way Poe looked at you with a sparkle in his eyes, or the way Finn laughed at words that sounded naughty but weren't naughty. Then there were the times when Leia would give you warm hugs, and when Rey would try and make everyone pancakes on quiet moments.

So yes, the galaxy could suck and yes, the Resistance could be tough, but you had the best people around you. They were the life support that was going to help you see it through.

"C'mon, baby," Poe tugged your arm slightly. "Let's go to bed."

"Yeah," you replied. "Let's."

He wound his arm around you and held you tightly, guiding you back to your room.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x you #poe dameron reader insert #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron imagines #star wars x you #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #star wars fluff #star wars fan fiction

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writingsnmusings · 4 years ago

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Fluffy A-Z Headcanons

pairing: ragnar lothbrok x reader

summary: title sums it up :)

a/n: i love his man!! here's my vikings masterlist

Attractive: What do they find attractive about the other?

You’re in love with eyes; the way they’re so expressive and always telling what kind of mood he's in. They light up when he’s happy or excited and they darken when sad or upset.

Ragnar’s pretty cheeky so if you asked him straight up what he finds attractive about you he’d say your ass and thighs, that he loves grabbing and biting at your flesh. But he’s really infatuated with your smile and how it brightens whenever you see him.

Baby: Do they want a family? Why/Why not?

Well he already has his children with Lagertha and Aslaug, but he isn’t opposed to having more with you. You’ve mentioned children a few times and he’s more than enthusiastic to start trying.

Cuddle: How do they cuddle?

If you could only describe cuddling with Ragnar in one word it would be warm. The man just runs hot which is a blessing during the colder months. He prefers to have you tucked into his chest with his arms protectively around you.

Dates: What are dates with them like?

It’s hard getting him alone sometimes. Between supervising Floki’s boat building and making plans for the next raid and his sons wanting attention, your date options are slim. Usually a date night with Ragnar would be just the two of you in your little home with some extra food and alcohol. The night usually ends in sex because of course it does.

Everything: “You are my ___” (e.x: my life, my world)

“You are my one and only.” Usually whispered to you in moments when your mind starts to stray. You’re human, of course you get insecure sometimes. Ragnar has a reputation after all.

Feelings: When did they know they were falling in love?

It was sudden for him. He claims that it was love at first sight for him. You greeted him with a big smile and showed him the furs you had on display at your little stall. He listened to you go on and on about fabric and was so enthralled he ended up buying from you.

It was more of a slow burn for you. You were attractive to the man immediately, who wouldn’t be? You let him chase you around and woo you with his charm for a while before actually giving in. He was persistent which made you fall for him even more.

Gentle: Are they gentle? If so, how?

Of course he’s gentle with you. Never a raised voice or hand around you. If he’s arguing with Rollo or getting after his sons, it’s only hushed threats and curses if you’re near.

He’s gentle in other ways too, like physically. Cradling your head as he kisses you, running his finger up and down your arm after sex, brushing your hair after you’ve gotten out of the bath.

Hand/Hold: Do they like to hold hands? How do they do it?

Not really. He prefers to have your arm linked with his or his arm around your waist. Hand holding isn't physical enough for him. He needs to feel you as close as possible to him.

Impression: First impressions?

Like I said, love at first sight for him. He thought you were absolutely gorgeous and knew he needed to make you his right away. He thought you were very sweet, even to a stranger like him.

Your first impression of Ragnar was a mixed one. He immediately laid on the charm and you were quick to fall for it, but of course you couldn’t let him see that. He was a sight for sore eyes and you noticed that quickly. His piercing eyes and tanned skin stood out from everyone else’s for some reason.

Joker: Are they into pulling pranks?

He definitely is. Always teasing and joking with you about something. He loves seeing and hearing you laugh, loving that he can do that to you. Never really goes too crazy with pranks as he fears the wrath you’ll lay upon him.

Kisses: How do they kiss?

Slowly. He savors your lips whenever he has the chance. Quick pecks aren’t even in Ragnar’s realm of thinking. He’ll grip your neck to keep you in place and press his lips to yours, of course his tongue slips in and you’re a goner at that point.

Love: Who said it first?

Surprisingly, you did. It was right when he got back from a raid with his sons. Word had gotten around that the waves had been rough and choppy and you were sick with worry. As soon as Ragnar was off the boat, you were lifted into his arms. You cupped his face and peppered kisses wherever you could while mumbling the three little words.

Memory: Favorite moment together?

Ragnar often talks about the day he took you to meet Floki and Helga. He wanted you to get to know his bestfriends and that you did. The couple immediately took to you and Ragnar couldn’t have been happier. That only solidified your place in his life, he knew the gods had finally blessed him.

Nickel: Do they spoil?

Yes. You never want for anything when you’re with him. Whatever you want, you get. Nothing is too much for you in his eyes.

Orange: What color reminds them of their other half?

Pink is your color according to Ragnar. He heard somewhere that pink symbolizes beauty and love, so he thought that was fitting for you.

Black reminds you of your man. It’s the color of strength and power which perfectly describes him.

Pet names: What pet names do they use?

Ragnar calls you ‘dear’ a lot. You don’t know where it came from, but you always get butterflies when he says it.

You’re fond of calling him ‘love’ or ‘my love’. He doesn’t show it, but he melts whenever you call him those names.

Questions: What are they always asking?

“Will you be with me till the end?” It’s no secret that Ragnar hasn’t had the best luck with women. Now that he has you though, he needs constant reminders that you won’t get sick of him and abandon him like the others did. You truly love him and aren’t shy in saying so.

Rainy day: What do they like to do on a rainy day?

Stay in and just be with you. Anything he has to do can wait till the skies clear. It’s rare that you have him all to yourself so you jump at the chance to keep him in bed for as long as you can.

Sad: How do they cheer themselves/each other up?

Cheering up Ragnar usually involves your naked bodies and a bed. Sometimes not even a bed. He’ll get all the seratonin he needs just from being with you intimately. Other than that, he’ll just vent to you about whatever is bothering him. Sometimes he just needs to be listened to.

You’re the same way though. Just laying in his arms and voicing your frustrations helps a lot. He kisses you all over and runs his fingers through your hair to calm you down too.

Talking: What do they love talking about?

The past, honestly. How things used to be when he reigned. As melancholy as his mood gets, you know it makes him happy to reminisce. You love listening to him talk so you never stop him when he starts a sentence with ‘back then…’

Unencumbered: What helps them relax?

Again, Ragnar is a real man’s man when it comes to relaxing. Drinking alcohol and having his woman on him is all he needs. A home cooked meal won’t hurt either.

Relaxing for you means not being bothered by the sons of Ragnar or Floki needing

Vaunt: What are they proud of? What do they like to show off?

He’s proud of his sons and all they’ve done. They’re strong men who grew up without him and became great leaders.

He’s proud of you and how you’ve grown in your relationship with him. You’ve gone through quite a few things since being with him and you’ve handled them with grace. He loves to show you off too. Everybody in Kattegat has to know that Ragnar Lothbrok has the most amazing woman.

Wedding: When, how, where do they propose?

It wasn’t too romantic and mushy, that’s just not Ragnar’s style. It was a while after you two had gotten together, a year and some months at this point. You two were moved in together by this time and it was a regular night when he popped the question. He was laid in bed, watching as you poked at the fire to keep it lit for the night. You looked absolutely gorgeous in the glow of the light he couldn’t help himself. Tears were shed by both of you when you said yes.

Xylophone: What's their song?

Risk it all - The Vamps

“I’d burn it down, i’d light it up. For you, i’d risk it all. i’d rather crash, i’d rather crawl then never have your love at all.”

Yearning: Are they needy?

Absolutely. Physical touch is definitely his love language. Even if you’re just a few feet away, he’ll motion you over and keep you at his side. Always has a hand on you. Always wants you doting on him. He loves to feel loved.

ZZZZ: How do they sleep?

You fall asleep before him, usually. He’ll stay up looking at his maps or come back from Floki’s pretty late. Once he gets into bed for the night, he’ll take a moment to stop and stare at you. Just thanking the gods for blessing him with you.

#ragnar lothbrok x reader #ragnar lothbrok imagine #ragnar x reader #ragnar imagine #vikings x reader #vikings imagine #my writings

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space-city-traffic · 3 years ago

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it’s time for another one of my patented Unnecessarily Long Silt Verses Metas! the subject of this one is: i just relistened to episode 4, because it’s probably my favorite episode in the whole series, and now i have just so many questions. so!

worldbuilding questions:

what is the generally accepted attitude toward queerness in-universe? i initially thought it was sort of a juno-steel-esque world where we assume everybody’s just chill with it. it’s never remarked upon that the farmer has a husband in ep3, and everyone respects Vaughn’s pronouns in the professional world. but this episode seems to trouble that a little, since Carpenter’s aromanticism is not understood or respected by Todd, as well as a whole line of other people. so what’s the overarching consensus?

how complex are prayer marks, on average? ive been picturing them as looking like the tsv logo. but in this episode, we learn that a prayer mark on the elk corpse is a triangle, three lines, and a circle. maybe prayer marks look more like those six figures on the internal hexagon of the logo?

do cell phones exist in the world of tsv?? it seems like Carpenter has no way of contacting Faulkner to get him to pick her up early. and toward the end, Charity asks Gareth if there’s a landline in the spooky house, implying that they would need it to call for help. also, in earlier episodes, we have our main two having to use a hotel pay phone to call Mason. so im realizing that cell phones probably aren’t common, at the very least.

(the discord server i’m in took that information, plus the fact that emails do exist as of episode 8, and suggested that tsv is just set in a really fucked up version of the 90’s complete with tracksuits and butterfly hair clips. do with that as you will.)

thematic questions:

there’s a lot of similarity between the way Carpenter describes the faith of Pendas’ Slake and the way she describes the Trawlerman. she describes the first snare she finds as “The wire is wound like a fishing lure,” she talks about the twin faces of the elk-saint in the same way as the twin faces of the Trawlerman, and she tells us that her blood from the chase “Runs like a river.” so uh what’s that about??? also, she was seeking for a river cult when she found this. which is clearly different, but has a lot of uncanny echoes. so what’s that about??????

this might not be intentional, but this episode is the first of two times we hear bridges associated with romance. Todd propositions Carpenter on a bridge, and in the next episode, Hayward rambles about a cult of romantic couples and locks on a bridge. not sure if there’s anything there, but if the motif keeps happening in the future, i may have to look a little closer.

do snare dogs count as saints or angels of Charity’s faith? the elk of birch and bone is clearly a saint, since that’s a transformation. but were the snare dogs once people, too? or are they like the crab dog sentinel that Faulkner describes as an angel in episode 8?

either way, it’s very interesting to me how differently Charity interacts with them. there’s a ton of fear in how Carpenter and Faulkner engage with saints of their faith, and the angel actively decks Faulkner the moment he fumbles the canvass. but the snare dogs are described as nuzzling around Charity in almost affection. not sure what the difference is, but it feels interesting.

thoughts on Carpenter’s faith:

she describes herself and her river as “lonely” over and over again. she’s the only one to describe it like that, everyone else sees it as full of creatures and life! but she can’t see that aspect of it, only the wrath and destruction—she can’t imagine it not being like her.

(that’s why it’s interesting that hope comes when she sees Faulkner and knows she’s not alone at the end—the line “I’ve been seen” says it all. not sure how she’s gonna reconcile that in the long run.)

there’s this banger of a line that she drops when she talks about Todd thinking that she rejected him because of her faith: “As if faith had anything to do with who I was. With what I wanted, and didn’t want, my life to become.” which, like. that’s specifically in reference to her aromanticism but also like. Carpenter that is a very loaded statement. can you imagine Faulkner saying something like that???

actually it’s interesting—Faulkner very much loses himself in his faith, whereas Carpenter keeps a very distinct handle on who she is and what she thinks and wants out of this whole deal. so her faith is very different, because she’s such an individualist, and sometimes her stubborn insistence on Her Way bumps up against what the organized cult says. her faith really doesn’t influence what she wants out of the world. it’s kinda the other way around.

she burns her copy of the Silt Verses at the end. you guys. she burns her holy book. while praying. what the fuck. that’s iconic. but also what the fuck.

stupid questions:

how tf is Carpenter walking in any episodes after this??? she twists her ankle until there’s a crunch, and there’s a chunk taken out of her leg???? ma’am you shouldn’t be able to stand on that for a WHILE that’s probably at least a second degree rolled ankle i fear for your ligaments

how tf does a jaw look like a snare. how. a snare is like a noose of wire. how does that WORK

Carpenter was a lure for the Trawlerman’s faith???? sorry??? reminder that lures are: “Sweet-faced young acolytes who are sent out into the world, to hand out the flowers, whisper kind enticements, and lead the faithless into the sacrificial grounds”?????? i can not imagine that went well for Grumpy McCrow over here

(actually... could that be related to Todd and his ilk only seeing her as what they wanted her to be, wanting to find their meaning in her? maybe she took advantage of people willfully misunderstanding her, just like she takes advantage of people telling her their life stories. hmm. someone write a fic.)

im severely asexual, but after listening to Carpenter’s voice and cadences this whole episode—is this what sexy means??? i think i finally understand what sexy means. bless.

#long post #tsv #the silt verses #the silt verses meta #tsv meta #sister carpenter #carpenter tsv #Mallory glass #carpenter #the trawlerman #religion cw #cult cw

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

Text

❥𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓐𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓭𝓪

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑢𝑠! 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝐽𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑜× 𝐴𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦/𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑀𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑦 𝐴𝑈

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 7.8𝐾

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑀𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑜𝑑𝑠, 𝑖𝑛𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒, 𝑠𝑒𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦/𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠

“𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡.

𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝐼 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑘𝑦…..

𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒.”- 𝑈𝑛𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛

༺═──────────────═༻

The young woman lifted her head up slowly, her eyes still not opening. Instead, they scrunched up as the sun's rays pierced through the slight opening of the silk turquoise drapes that covered the large glass window of her balcony. She felt a slight tingling sensation of pins in needles run down her back as she straightened up and stretched out her back, which was very sore from sleeping on her chair and desk, bent over the book she had gotten lost into the night before.

Humming softly, she scooted her chair back and got up, cramping up slightly. She picked up her treasured book and put it back on the shelf, laying it to rest along with its fellow literary companions that never failed to bring her joy as she poured over their contents time and time again, never getting bored of what her mother would often call 'silly and unrealistic romance fables'. Her mother was on the more practical side of things, when she wasn't on the other side of her mirror that is. It was no secret her mother was the most vain and self loving woman the kingdom, constantly boasting about her looks, her arrogance and pride could be heard from miles away.

The young princess hurried to dress herself, a task she had preferred doing with no help from her hand maidens since 2 years ago, knowing they'd only fashion her in the flashy and extravagant style her mother preferred, which was not at all to her liking. She was more comfortable in simple tunics with no ornaments at all, but today her mother specifically requested her to put on her best dress as it was to be a special day for her. So there she was, dressing herself in a luxurious forest green robe with golden flowers threaded onto the sleeves and hem of the dress. The scratchy material irritated her skin, but still she had to admit she looked very pretty. Fastening her hair with a gold colored brooch that was shaped like a leaf, she walked out into the long corridor, the passing servants greeting her as she made her way to the throne room where her father was probably already waiting.

"Morning father."

She came up and kissed his head, giving him a warm and fond smile.

"How are you my little star?" He greeted her with the nickname he's called her since she was a child.

"Ready to help you out in the inventories and with sorting through the official documents and drafts."

Over time, she'd grown to help take over some of the duties her father attended to since there was never a male heir.

Her father waved a hand dismissively.

"Not today I'm afraid. Today.....there's is something else that must be taken care of."

Before she could even ask what that was, the glorious queen herself bursted through the doors.

"Andromeda my darling daughter!"

Her mother smothered her in a crushing embrace that was more painful than endearing. The poor girl was being suffocated by her mother's strength and her overwhelming lavender scent she always sprayed on.

"Mmom- mom, remember we aren't supposed to call me by that name until I was married."

That was how it was in their kingdom: babies were given 2 names, 1 which they were called as they grew up by everyone around them and 1 which they'd be referred to after they got married. Which is why it shocked Y/N that her mother was calling her that now.

"Which will actually happen very soon my dear."

Y/N turned to look at her father, her face asking for an explanation. His smile was meant to be reassuring, but instead it felt forced and almost as if he was feeling pity for her.

"We......have picked out the best match for you."

Y/N knew this day would come sooner or later. As the princess of the kingdom, she'd be married off to the best suitor to come forward and ask for her hand. She was not scared of this prospect ahead of her, in fact, she had often daydreamed of meeting her future husband and falling in love with him like she often read about in her stories. She was often imagining a young and handsome lad coming to ask for her, with strong arms and athletic build. She wanted someone like the hero Heracles, who was known for his superior strength and good looks.

"And he's already here! So straighten up Andromeda, chin up, make yourself look more alive for goodness sakes."

Her mother began her usual fussing again, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on her daughter's dress and pulling out strands of her hair to compliment her features even more. She went as far as pinching Y/N's cheeks.

"Ow! What was that for?" Y/N cupped her cheeks, not wanting them to be abused by her mother's bony fingers and long nails.

"To give them a little pink tint." Her mother looked at her as if she was stupid.

"My dear Cassiopeia, I think the child has had enough. She looks beautiful all right?"

The queen pouted her bottom lip.

"But I'm still the most beautiful one right?"

There it was, her mother couldn't even resist having someone tell her how pretty she was or compliment her appearance. Her husband rolled his eyes.

"You're the most beautiful in all of Joppa." He replied, simply just to get her off his case and go back to what was really important here.

The royal family got in their respective places, awaiting the arrival of Y/N's future husband. She tugged on the fabric of her dress, nervous yet excited at meeting who her parents had deemed suitable for her.

The doors opened and Y/N held her breath as a royal announcer came in, hand over his chest as he proclaimed:

"Announcing his royal Majesty, Phineas, King of Cyprus."

Y/N's heart sank when she heard who was just announced.

'No no no....please mighty gods in the heavens..."

She wanted the earth to swallow her as she looked at the man in front of her, not a stranger, but an all too familiar and not welcomed face to her. Out of all the people in the land......

Why did her parents have to choose him? A king who was 20 years her senior, had already been married once and was not only particularly displeasing in figure, but more so in personality?

"My dear friend! So nice to see you again!"

The regal queen greeted the neighboring monarch warmly, delighted at the thought of having him there with them.

"My dear queen Cassiopeia. You haven't changed at all. Still the most beautiful creature that has ever walked on this earth." He complimented her as he kissed her hand.

Her husband just sat there, so used to the flattery bestowed upon his wife by the old fool. Y/N on the other hand wanted to run away from there, crawl into her bed and cry her eyes out. Her mother was having none of that though.

"Andromeda. Come here and say hello to your future husband."

She looked at her father, eyes begging him to intervene, but his eyes just looked at her sadly and at that moment she knew she had no choice. Her future had been decided and there was no going back. Taking a deep breath, she took slow and heavy steps until she stood in front of Phineas. Bowing her head, she greeted him with a very hushed voice, which the king mistakenly misinterpreted as timidness.

"My lovely bride do not be so shy. We shall soon be happily married and I promise to make you the happiest woman alive. And I know you shall make me a very happy man and bear me lots of heirs."

Y/N nearly gagged at the thought.

"Heirs?" Her vision was beginning to get blurry.

When the man in front of her took her hand in his own, she nearly yanked it back.

"Yes. Many children with the God's blessings." He chuckled, but she did not find any of it amusing.

She felt so repulsed and sick she didn't realize what was happening until she heard people calling out her name and her body hit the floor underneath her, vision going completely black as she fainted due to the shock.

༺═──────────────═༻

She awoke hours later, one of her handmaidens, Sophiya, was stirring a cup in her hand.

"Miss, you're awake."

Y/N sat up, her head still spinning somewhat.

"What on earth happened?" She rubbed her temples, trying to recollect her memories.

Sophiya held out the cup and saucer out to her.

"It seems you fainted."

Right. She remembered now. She was betrothed to an old geezer and couldn't handle it so she passed out in front of everybody. She sighed as she stirred the chamomile tea inside her cup, the smell of it already helping clear her head.

"Why him? Why out of all the people in the world, I have to be married to him?" She wondered out loud before sipping some of her tea carefully.

She wasn't afraid of speaking her mind with Sophiya around. Not only was she a loyal and discreet maid, she was the closest friend she had in the palace, the one often listening to her and offering advice at times.

"Well from a political perspective, it's a very desirable match. Your father's northern territories share a border with Phineas' kingdom. Uniting two states by marriage would be beneficial both politically and commercially." Sophiya stated.

Y/N set her cup on her dresser rather harshly.

"It's not fair though. I don't want someone old enough to be my father as a husband, let alone someone who treats women like they're just objects instead of people."

"No? Then what do you want Y/N?"

Sophiya had a mischievous grin on her face, knowing fully well what her friend's answer would be. Grabbing a pillow, Y/N chucked it at her, causing her to double over in laughter.

"Shut up! Don't start."

Y/N got up and went to her vanity and began arranging her hair which was now poking out from several places. She cringed a little and was about to reach for her comb but Sophiya beat her to it.

"It's been a while since I've done this." Sophiya hummed a little tune like she always did whenever she combed through Y/N's hair.

"I can do it myself you know." Y/N reminded her.

Sophiya snorted. "Yeah and that's why your hair always looks messy and unkempt."

Y/N widened her eyes.

"Does it?"

But her friend's inability to contain her laugh made her realize she was only messing around with her again. At least it took her mind off the current situation that displeased her.......

Until her mother came barging into her room.

"Ahhh Y/N. You're awake at last."

She gestured for Sophiya to move aside so she could take over. Y/N already dreaded having her mother comb her hair, she was always so rough and pulled her hair so tightly she'd end up with a pounding headache before the day was over. Her mother held a strand of her daughter's hair and grimaced slightly.

"Your hair is becoming rather dry." She pointed out.

"Really? I didn't notice." Y/N responded.

Her mother let out an exasperated sigh.

"Y/N don't you know you must take care of every part of your body in order to remain looking beautiful and young?"

Her mother took a glance at the mirror in front of them.

"Just look at me darling. How many women my age do you know to have such luscious, thick, long and healthy hair?"

She then turned her attention to the girl standing next to them.

"Don't you think so Sophiya?"

Knowing fully well how to put honey in the queen's ear, Sophiya admired her.

"Not a single strand of grey hair your Highness."

Her response made the queen extremely happy. Y/N and Sophiya both looked at each other and tried not to laugh right then and there.

"See honey? This is why I'm always advising you on proper beauty care."

She made Y/N turn and stare at her reflection once more.

"I'm so proud to have had such a beautiful daughter like you. And you'll become even more beautiful I just know it."

Y/N at this point just decided to tune out her mothers words, not wanting to listen once more to another vain speech.

"You're the prettiest girl in all of Joppa. No one compares to you."

'As if I've never heard that one before.' Y/N thought.

"If even dare say you're the most beautiful princess in the entire world."

Now Y/N began to feel uneasy, feeling her mother was escalating things too far.

With a proud and arrogant smirk, her mother then finally boasted:

"You're more beautiful than all the daughters of Poseidon. The Nereids can't even come close to owning half of your beauty."

Both Y/N and Sophiya began to panic at her words. If there was one thing the gods hated more than anything it would a mortal's pride. And the panic soon turned into terror when the earth shook, all of the glass dials on Y/N's dresser fell to the floor, all their contents spilling. Some of the painting either tilted or crashed onto ground. The all tried to run out the door, but they all toppled over, Y/N and Sophiya holding onto each other, praying for the earth to stop shaking while the queen was screaming hysterically while trying to crawl to the door.

Suddenly everything stopped and an eerie hush fell upon them. Sophiya inspected Y/N, inquiring about her well being.

"I'm fine....but what was that?" She wondered.

"Is it finally over?" Her mother asked, hands covered protectively over her head.

Loud rumbling outside made them shudder, the sunlight that was shining moments ago now was darkened as clouds covered the sky. Thunder got louder and rain started to heavily pour down, even though the rainy season had ceased 3 months ago. That could only mean one thing.

"Somebody has angered the gods."

༺═──────────────═༻

Y/N tried to keep the smile on her face as her future husband kept going on about his kingdom, its financial contribution in the trade market and, her absolute favorite, all the duties and responsibilities that the queen would have to take up. From knowing how to run dozens of servants, to organizing banquets and festivities, to being a role model for all the women in the empire.

"She must exhibit perfect conduct at all times, must display modesty, integrity, loyalty to her husband and kingdom..."

Y/N could only pretend to listen to his words. Every word uttered felt like someone was pushing a threading needle in her skin.

"Y/N? Are you listening to me?"

Phineas question brought her back to reality.

"Huh? Oh yes! Of course I was."

She hoped he wouldn't notice that she was nervous, but he ended up attributing to her being overwhelmed by the responsibilities she'd have.

"I can understand that for a young girl such as yourself, who has been frivolous for most of her life, being thrusted into such a position which requires great responsibility must be daunting and bewildering. But fear not my lovely bride, I promise you I shall never reproach you for any mistakes you make."

It took every fiber in her being to keep from rolling her eyes at that statement. If anything, she was everything but frivolous, she already knew so much from observing and studying under her father's guidance. For goodness sakes, she already mastered the art of war strategies and this man actually thought her incapable of ruling a country? She wanted to laugh at that.

"And you must not despair. I have a housekeeper already prepared back home who will instruct you in all the arrangements and etiquette of the palace. Wonderful lady who has served me for a great many years. Completely dedicated and exemplary in her work."

Y/N could already picture a strict and dogmatic old woman, whom she no doubt would end up hating if King Phineas admired her so. But that was the least of her worries at the moment. She spotted out of the corner of her eye two servants whispering something to her father, who looked agitated and full of concern. Y/N could guess that they were reporting another dreadful catastrophe that besieged their kingdom. Ever since that day with the earthquake and thunderstorm, more phenomenons started to happen throughout the land. A second earthquake buried and destroyed dozens of homes, the west province was affected by a flash flood that wiped out most of the crops, and a tremendous tidal wave swept away some of the coastal villages in the south province. Thousands of innocent people were affected greatly and it pained Y/N to see it happen, and she had an idea she knew why this was all happening. Not caring if she was rude, she excused herself and left King Phineas' side to approach her father.

"What news did they bring?" She made sure to keep her voice low so as to not alarm anyone.

Her father inhaled deeply.

"Lighting storm struck the east coast now. Hundreds of homes were burned."

Y/N of course expected bad news. Nothing good ever came from the messengers.

"I just don't understand Y/N. Why us? What have we done to offend the gods? We sacrifice to all of them, we are faithful and pious people, so why are they punishing us?"

She truly didn't have the answer. All she could do was rest her head on her father's shoulder and embrace him.

"I don't know. We can only hope things don't get worse."

At that moment, one of the young men who went out daily to the docks to haul in fish for the palace came rushing in, drenched in water, barefoot and face filled with horror.

"A sea monster! A sea monster has been sent to us!"

All of the people in the room fixed their eyes on him, some gasping or covering their mouths, while others thought he was crazy. Y/N and her father approached the lad.

"What do you mean?" Her father demanded.

The boy trembled in fear as he began recounting his experience:

"My lord! We were out at sea, reeling in our catch for the day when we heard a strange bellowing noise from underneath the boat. It was then silent for a while when suddenly, a large sea creature emerged and split our boat in half. It was frightening! It had razor sharp teeth, a serpent's tongue, bloodshot eyes and it was simply enormous! I watched as it devoured some of my fellow comrades-"

The lad fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably as images of the traumatic scene flashed once more across his mind. The king bent down and placed a gentle hand on the boy's back, his head in deep thought as if trying to recollect any wrong doings anyone might have done. He then signaled for someone to take the boy away and give him fresh clothes and food to eat.

Y/N closed her eyes and sighed. It was getting worse and worse every day, and it seemed it wouldn't be stopped. She flinched when she saw her father draw out his sword and knocked down one of the vases that adorned the hall.

"Speak oh mighty gods! What have we done to anger you? Why are you punishing us!?"

No one spoke up, fear was in all of their eyes and no one could blame them.

"I......I'm the guilty one."

All heads turned to the source of the voice and stared in shock as the queen herself stepped up, her visage looking thinner than normal and with dark circles under her eyes, signaling lack of sleep.

"I have offended Poseidon by boasting that Andromeda was more beautiful than his sea nymphs...."

Everyone let out gasps and screeches of horror at her confession. Her father looked absolutely furious and was trying hard to contain himself from losing his temper. Accepting all responsibility, the queen continued:

"If I must pay the price with my own life then so be it."

Her father shook his head.

"The price is for Poseidon to decide. Send in the Oracle. We must find out how to appease the god of the sea."

༺═──────────────═༻

"Why must he be so angry at us over one person's mistake?"

Y/N and her father stared blankly at the horizon. It seemed both of them had been spending more and more time in the royal orchard ever since more and more disastrous news reached their ears. Y/N sat on a stone bench while her father leaned back on one of the several olive trees that surrounded the place. So far he had kept quiet and just listened to her pour her heart out.

"I always asked myself that when I was a little boy and I listened to the stories my father told me. Why the gods always punished mortals who claimed to be better than them."

Y/N observed her father who stood there with a pensive gaze.

"I think......I understand...... the gods want us to respect the natural order every creature has in this universe."

Pulling out a leave from one of the branches, he continued:

"Insects have their place in this world. Animals have theirs. We mortals have our place above these creatures and that's why we dominate them....

And the gods have their place, above us mortals. We are so far below them that none of us should aspire to be greater than the place that was designated for us. Or it could mean our downfall."

Releasing the leave, he let it slowly fall down, sinking into the water of the small pond in front of them. Y/N stared at the leaf, understanding the point her father was trying to get across, but still it bothered her.

"But still. In all of the stories, the guilty one was punished, not innocent people. So why are they paying the price now?"

Her father stiffened at her question, unsure of how to answer.

"The ways of the gods are difficult for us to understand."

Y/N got up from her seat and staged at the fields in front of her. She frowned, unable to accept that answer.

"It's not their fault...."

Her father sighed as he rubbed his temples.

"Y/N please.......I can't comprehend this as much as you can. We'll just have to wait and see what the Oracle says. Hopefully there's still a way to make things right."

They both went back inside the palace, the Oracle had to be done communicating with the other world and must have an answer by then. The ministers were already gathered at the conference hall, awaiting instructions. Y/N and her father took their place in the middle of the crowd, waiting for the elder man to come in. Everyone hushed as soon as he came in. He walked even slower than usual, holding his walking staff with 2 hands, his eyebrows were furrowed as if he was in deep thought and troubled by what he had to reveal. No one dared ask him what was going to happen, afraid of what he'd say.

"Tell us. What does mighty Poseidon ask from us?" Her father inquired.

The old man lifted his head to the sky and closed his eyes before saying:

"This is what the god of the sea has spoken: 'You have summoned my wrath by offending me and my sea nymphs with your pride and vanity. I have a mind to exterminate the entire land to pay for your sins.......

But as an act of mercy, I will stop all the disasters if you offer me a sacrifice. In 2 days time, you must chain the selected person to a rock at the sea's edge for my sea monster, Cetus, to devour and atone for your foolishness. If you don't follow my instructions, I will continue to lay rampage throughout your kingdom until you have all perished."

The nobles all began to murmur amongst themselves, some already agreeing to the demands for the sake of the people.

"We are all ready to do as our lord, Poseidon, asks of us. Tell us Mylos, who are we to offer to him?"

Y/N's mother was already stepping up, all of them expecting her of course to be the one to die, but the old Oracle shook his head as he revealed a shocking fact.

"Poseidon has asked for your daughter, Y/N."

At the mention of her name, Y/N paled and nearly fell over had her father not being next to her to prevent her from falling. Many were shocked and horrified at the choice, some of the ladies already wailing at the thought of losing their beloved princess. Y/N felt Sophiya run up to her and hold her tightly, tears already spilling out her eyes. But the one who was most distressed by it was none other than her mother.

"No! He can't take Y/N! He can't take my only daughter! I won't let him! Please! Let me die in her place instead!"

The queen got on her knees, begging for her daughter's life to be saved as all the people in the room were now divided by how to proceed with this.

"Cepheus you cannot allow this! She's your child!" She was now clutching her husband's robe, desperately trying to persuade him not to allow this insanity to happen.

"Poseidon has spoken! His words must be fulfilled! If he wants the princess, we must give her to him!" One of the nobles protested.

Her father became enraged.

"Has he no pity?! She's my only child! I can't let him have her!"

"You are a king before a father and a king's duty is to his people. Please! We don't want anymore bloodshed to happen!" Someone else counteracted.

Soon it was an intense debate between all of the gentlemen in the hall. All of them screamed one after the other, not bothering to listen. All throughout it, her father refused to budge.

"Phineas, she's betrothed to you. What have you to say?"

All eyes fell on the other monarch, who had kept quiet until now. Meeting his eyes, Y/N for once looked at him with tenderness, silently pleading him to vouch for her. Instead, and unsurprisingly, he looked down.

"If that's what the God of the sea has declared, it must be done."

Her father shook his head, resisting the urge to draw his sword and kill him right then and there.

"And this from the very man who said he'd die for her hand in marriage? Pitiful."

"No matter that! Poseidon must be obeyed!"

Y/N drowned out the chaos that was happening. She truly was frightened by the situation, appalled that the God would choose her to be the sacrifice. But she had no tears to cry, she simply stood there, blank faced as she pondered over all the events that had happened in the past week, all the houses destroyed, all the innocent lives taken, it wasn't fair.........

And she couldn't allow it to continue.

"I will do it."

But no one heard her because they were too busy fighting. So she stepped in the center and firmly declared:

"I will do it! I will sacrifice myself if that's what Poseidon wants!"

༺═──────────────═༻

The people all looked in awe and admiration as the princess walked up the stone pavement through the streets. Dressed in pure white robes, hair curled into ringlets, she looked like an actual angel sent to save them all. But behind that gaze that showed dignity and bravery, there was fear in each of her bones, her hands shaking every now and then at the thought of what was to come. Her father and mother both stayed behind, not allowed to accompany her any further out of fear that they'd try and stop the priests from chaining her to her destiny. Y/N stared at some of the wildflowers that were shattered along the path, somehow they seemed to calm her down. She kept repeating the same words over and over again in her head:

"I'm a princess. I must die with dignity and grace."

But her courage soon failed her when she reached the steps leading down to the edge of the sea. Her body froze, unwilling to take another step. She was about to ran back the way she came, but the priests grabbed her wrists and began trying to get her down the steps, but Y/N began to struggle. She looked back at her parents, their faces blurry from the tears brimming at her eyes.

"Father! Mother! Save me!"

Her mother hid her face in her hands, unable to watch anymore, while her father was being held back by some of his guards, strictly ordered to keep him from interfering. At this point, Y/N heard a familiar voice scream from among the crowds. Turning she saw none other than Sophiya try to run to her, but she was stopped by a couple of guards.

"You can't do this to her! She's innocent! Y/N you don't have to do this! Let me go!"

It took both of the guards to subdue her and lift her up to take her away and keep her from freeing Y/N, but Sophiya kept fighting and shouting protests to be released and to help her friend. When she saw Phineas, she did not hide her disgust and shame.

"Aren't you supposed to protect her?! Be her champion! Slay the monster for her! Do you not care enough for her?!"

But her words fell upon deaf ears, no one would dare step up for Y/N. The priests dragged her down the narrow staircase. Once they reached the bottom, they held her hands behind her back and pressed her firmly against the cold stone pillar. They tied the rope around several times, making sure it was fastened tightly before saying a small and quick prayer for her and to ask forgiveness to the god. Y/N watched them climb back up the stairs and slowly disappear, along with the rest of the people who went to see her off. No one wanted to watch as Poseidon carried out his punishment and have his sea monster eat a poor, helpless young girl.

Hours passed, the sun was now covered by clouds, adding an even more eerie atmosphere to the place. The tide was rising, the water that before was only at Y/N's feet. Now was well above her knees, the cold water freezing her muscles. Y/N wondered if perhaps the gods would have mercy on her and let her drown instead of having Cetus tear into her flesh and eat her while she was still alive. The more she thought about it, the more she began panicking.

"I don't want to die! Please! Can anybody help me?! Somebody, anybody! Help!!"

Her throat was now sore from screaming on top of her lungs, her face red from all the tears pouring out, her arms aching from being bound behind her, her palms no doubt bleeding and scratched from scraping against the stone behind them. Y/N lowered her head, resigning to her fate and only praying that it would be quick and painless.

Far above her head, soaring through the clouds, at that moment, a shining white horse with wings flew across the sky. Sitting on top of the majestic creature, a handsome and strong young man calmly guided his companion through the vast ocean. The horse suddenly stopped in midair, sensing something.

"Whoah whoah whoah, steady there Pegasus. What's wrong?"

He ran his hand across the horse's mane, scratching the back of his ear in an effort to calm him. He looked towards where the horse was staring at and was confused when he saw a girl chained to a stone. Feeling curious, he whispered in Pegasus ear.

"Do you feel like going on another adventure?"

The winged horse let out a high pitched neigh before changing direction and swooping down to land on top of the stairs of the ledge. Dismounting and signaling for him to stay put, the mysterious man walked down the steps, being careful not to slip due to the water that had splashed onto the pavement. He tilted his head, trying to get a better view of the girl in front of him, trying to see if she was alive or not since she had her head down and didn't seem to be moving. She certainly hadn't drowned yet, even though the water was already below her chest, and it seemed it wouldn't stop yet.

He waved a hand in front of her.

"Hello?"

He heard a low moan come from her lips before she slowly lifted her head up, affirming she was still alive. He was taken aback by how pretty she was, even with her hair semi drenched in the salty seawater. It seemed to add a more captivating look to her. Y/N on the other hand, couldn't understand if she was seeing things or was already dead.

"Is this where I get on the boat that'll take me to the Underworld?"

Her question made the man raise an eyebrow.

"No....... you're not dead and this is Joppa I believe?"

"Oh great. Then that means I'm not dead.....yet." Y/N let out an exasperated sigh.

"Why can't you just get it over with? Stop making me wait, send your sea monster to gobble me up already."

She kept babbling on and on, she completely forgot about the stranger in front of her who was listening intently.

"What on earth are you taking about? Who chained you here anyway?"

Y/N looked in the direction of the stairs.

"The priests. I'm supposed to be sacrificed to Poseidon's sea monster."

The man shook his head.

"Why?"

"Because my mother boasted that I was more beautiful than the Nereids and therefore I have to appease the God of the sea with my death." She explained, not caring how ridiculous she sounded right now.

The man bent down, tugging at the ropes binding her to her fate.

"You still shouldn't be here......then again..."

He looked up at her and smiled softly.

"Perhaps we were fated to meet."

For the first time since all of it happened, Y/N genuinely smiled.

"I'm Jongho by a way." He finally introduced himself.

"I'm Y/N." She replied.

Her smile soon faded when she felt the water rise up even more, startling her and making her attempt to break free once again. Sensing how little time they had before her head was submerged completely underwater, Jongho drew out his sword and stepped down further into the water. He stood in front of Y/N.

"Don't worry. I'll get you out of here before-"

A loud bellowing cry interrupted him. The earth once again began to shake and as they both turned their heads to the right, they watched as a monstrous reptile swam straight toward them, its head coming out from the water.

"Stay here! Don't move!" He ordered her as he ran back up the stairs to divert the monster's attention from Y/N and instead to himself, completely ignoring the fact even if she wanted to, Y/N couldn't move at all.

Jongho stood at the top of the cliff. Raising his sword above his head, he waved it around to get the serpent to look at him, which it did. The beast made it's way towards him, bearing its sharp teeth at him. It lunged at him, but Jongho quickly ducked and shifted to the other side. He tried to pierce his sword into the monster's head but his sword only clashed against an armor of scales surrounding it.

"Oh great." Jongho breathed out when it lunged for him again, this time Jongho barely escaped its clutches.

He whistled for Pegasus to come over, which it promptly did. The horse trotted over to his master, who quickly hopped up and got on top of him before directing him to fly above the monster's neck. If Y/N wasn't so concerned about the water's level rising, she would have been more astonished at seeing an actual winged horse in front of her. Jongho scanned the munsters body, if there's anything he knew in his lifetime of slaying beasts it was that they all had a weak spot, that if found, it would be easy to defeat them.

The monster shifted its body around, causing the waters to splashed violently against Y/N's face. She coughed out the water that had gotten in her mouth and wheezed as she tried to regain her breath. Realizing he was running out of time, Jongho knew he had no other alternative and had to make use of his special weapon. Reaching into the copper colored bag on Pegasus' saddle, he looked over at Y/N and called out:

"Close your eyes! Don't open them under no circumstance!"

Y/N immediately shut her eyes, afraid of seeing what was going to happen. Jongho then took out a frightening and horrifying severed head that had now deceased snakes on its scalp. Making sure the monster was looking right at him, he held the head up so it could see the still glowing green eyes. In that moment, the sea serpent began shrieking out in pain as its body began to crystallize and turn into hard stone. Starting at its tail and going up to his neck, Jongho watched as the monster then fully transformed into a monument of stone, no longer moving and completely void of any life now. He tucked the head back in the pouch before looking back down at Y/N.

"Oh almighty Zeus."

He rushed down there with Pegasus when he saw that her head was now submerged underwater. He didn't even bother waiting for Pegasus to land, he jumped right in the water and swam over to her. Taking out a dagger from his pocket, he cut through several of the rope ties and quickly tugged them off of her. Once he felt them loosen up enough, he took her unconsciously body in his arms and swam back up. He gasped once he reached the surface, grabbing onto Pegasus' bridle. Pegasus then used his strength to pull them back up enough for Jongho to lift Y/N into his arms and climb back up the stairs to high land, safe away from the tide.

"Come on Y/N, don't give up on me."

He tilted her chin up before placing his hands against her chest. He pushed down hard, trying to get the water she swallowed out of her lungs.

"Please gods on Olympus. Help"

He pressed down even harder, but still nothing. Having left no choice, he bent down and parted her lips before blowing air into her mouth. He pulled back and inhaled before repeating the same process. Stepping back, he held onto Y/N's back when she began coughing violently, helping her sit up slighty so she could regain her composure.

"Are you all right?" He scanned to make sure she was ok.

Y/N took deep breaths before answering in a raspy voice.

"I think so..."

She looked up and blushed when she noticed their close proximity. Now having him mere inches from her face, Y/N could clearly see how handsome Jongho was, with dazzling brown eyes that seemed to hypnotize her.

"Thank you....for saving my life..." She whispered.

Jongho carefully swept his hand over her face, brushing off some of her wet hair out of it before leaning in closer to her.

"Oh don't thank me. Like I said, maybe we were fated to meet."

Y/N closed her eyes when she felt his face come closer to hers, his lips hovering above hers, she waited for him to kiss her, but unfortunately they were interrupted by a sharp voice:

"Y/N! You're alive!"

Jongho helped Y/N get up on her feet as her parents, Sophiya, Phineas and several others ran over to see what was happening. Sophiya wrapped her arms around Y/N, her voice hoarse from all the screaming she had done before.

"Thank the gods you're alive!"

Her parents also surrounds her, thankful she wasn't dead. Jongho just stood by the sides, smiling fondly at the touching scene. Not forgetting about him, Y/N went over to him and took his hand before looking over at her parents.

"Mom, dad. This is Jongho. He's the one who saved me."

Jongho smiled sheepishly as he waved his hand dismissively.

"Please, I had a little help."

The crowd looked over at the beast's head poking out from the cliff, immobile and never to move again.

"How on earth could a mere mortal turn a fearsome creature into stone?" Her father asked.

"Oh very easy. You see..."

Jongho whistled for Pegasus, who trotted up next to him. Several people began murmuring amongst themselves, wondering who really was this man who flew in such a majestic creature and could perform such miracles. Jongho pointed to the bag on the saddle.

"I'm afraid I can't show you all directly since even after I slayed the Gorgon, her face can still turn to stone anyone who looks at it."

A collective gasp was emitted from all those present, even Y/N was shocked when she realized who it really was that was standing in front of her.

"You're....you're..." She pointed a trembling finger to Jongho who merely chuckled.

"I see you heard the story about how I killed Medusa, although you probably heard the name given to me by the gods....

I am indeed Perseus."

Y/N covered her mouth as did most of the people present.

"The champion son of Zeus, standing right before our eyes."

At her father's words, everyone bowed down in respect to Jongho. Y/N's father dropped to his knees in front of him and held his hand.

"You have done me a great service by saving my beloved and only daughter. I shall forever be in your debt. Please, if there is anything I can offer you, say it and it shall be yours."

Jongho shot a glance back at Y/N, who kept looking at him in admiration. He winked at her before requesting:

"My dear king, if it pleases you..... I ask only for your daughter hand in marriage."

Y/N swore her heart jumped out of her body when he said those words. She looked to her father, who was ready to say yes until Phineas stepped forward to declare:

"Wait! Andromeda is already betrothed to me! You can't have her!"

But that didn't deter Jongho. He simply turned to look at the man in front of him. Crossing his arms, he sneered.

"If she betrothed to you, where were you when she was in danger? Why didn't you step up to die with her or for her instead of hiding away like a coward?"

Phineus stood there quiet, unable to answer that question, which didn't surprise Jongho.

"Exactly. So if it's all right with you, I ask for her father's blessing to allow me to marry her."

Slinging an arm protectively around her waist, Jongho pulled Y/N against him, refusing to budge even for 1 moment. Phineus reached over and drew his sword.

"Over my dead body."

Jongho raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a son of Zeus, I've slayed Medusa and killed Poseidon's beast, not to mention I'm more than half your age and have much vigor in me. Do you really dare to challenge me? Cause if that's the case."

Jongho covered Y/N's eyes and judging from all the panicked shuffling going on, she guessed he was reaching for Medusa's severed head to use against his rival.

Having to admit defeat, Phineas dropped his sword.

"Keep her. Keep Y/N."

Y/N bounced giddily at the thought of getting to marry Jongho, someone who embodied everything she always wanted in a husband: young, beautiful, strong and brave. And more than that, he was highly favored by the gods themselves.

"You could have been a queen Y/N. You'll regret your decision." Phineus declared before storming out of there.

Taking one look at Jongho, Y/N absolutely knew she wouldn't regret it.

༺═──────────────═༻p>

The couple stood in front of each other, lost in each other's eyes as their hands were joined together. Her parents watched in earnest as the priest spoke out the next words:

"Do you, Jongho, son of almighty Zeus and of Danaë, daughter of Acrisius, king of Argos, take Y/N, Princess of Joppa, daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia, king and queen of Aethiopia, as your lawfully wedded wife until death do you part?"

Without any hesitation, Jongho swore:

"I do."

The priest now turned to Y/N and repeated the same question to her, to which she responded:

"I do."

Her mother and Sophiya were already crying for joy at seeing Y/N so happy, while her father tried hard to contain his emotions. The priest proceeded to utter a small prayer before announcing:

"From this day forward, you shall both be known as Perseus and Andromeda. You have both sworn that from this day forward, you will spend the rest of your lives together, in front of all of those in attendance and before the very gods. May the Olympians bless this holy marriage."

Before the priest could even gesture for the torchbearers to light the sacrifice, a lighting bolt suddenly fired from the sky and set it ablaze, causing everyone to erupt in cheers and applause.

"Seems even Zeus approves of the marriage." Y/N's father whispered to his wife.

"And why should he not? They're perfect for each other. I can't be happier for our daughter. Although I'm going to miss her terribly." Her mother wiped her eyes with the handkerchief Sophiya handed to her.

The happy couple walked down the aisle, waving goodbye to their guests as they made their way out of the castle and down to one of the southern bays, where Pegasus was already waiting for them by the dock.

"I thought we were going back to your hometown Tiryns." Y/N pointed out.

"We are." Jongho calmly said.

"Well where's the boat?"

Jongho bursted out laughing at that.

"Sweetheart, Sophiya is the only one taking a boat to meet us there later. We.......are flying on dear Pegasus here."

Before she could protest, Jongho swept her off her feet and helped her mount the horse before saddling up behind her.

"Come on love, don't be scared. I promise nothing will happen to you."

Still sensing her apprehension, Jongho tilted her head to look at him.

"Hey look at me. I saved you from Poseidon's beast. Can't you trust me to safely take you to my home to meet my mother?"

Y/N smiled softly before nodding.

"I trust you entirely......"

She blushed before confessing:

"I love you."

Jongho leaned in and captured her lips in a gentle and loving kiss.

"I love you too my precious star."

Jongho then patted Pegasus ' side.

"Come on buddy. Take us home."

༺═──────────────═༻

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wrctings · 3 years ago

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just some (slightly angsty) eruri fluff for you all because i miss them 🥰

“And so when I snapped my fingers right beside him, I got his attention. Actually got it! I’ve never had a titan stare at me like this, so intensely,” Hanji’s eyes sparkled, aglow with both irrepressible enthusiasm and the warm reflection from the room’s candle light, her fingers eagerly curled around the handle of a cup. “If only you’d seen it... I think he may have finally recognised me, given all the time we spent together... But we have to wait and see. And there’s also that plant we brought back from the last expedition! It’s growing! We put it in a more humid zone, like where we found it, and it’s actually growing.”

Levi had always known Hanji was a little excessive. Well, really excessive for the most part - especially when she’d get into one of her endless tirades about titans, marvelling over their monstrous abilities and curious shape and reflexes and whatnot... Sometimes, it drove Levi up to the wall to watch their scientist go into raptures over the senseless beasts that had crushed or torn apart so many of their fallen comrades. Though, to be fair, he could hardly blame Hanji - she was with them, after all; among the first ranks during expeditions, flanked by the officers’ side. That titan-loving thing was just a quirk of hers, just like Levi’s own cleaning thing, which he suspected many of their subordinates looked upon as a curious and slightly frightening obsession.

So, more often than not, Levi patiently kept his mouth shut, listening to Hanji’s passionate rants and picking out the useful information only, letting the rest slide into oblivion. But tonight, Levi’s usual self-control act had been getting pushed toward its limit, a disgruntled frown hidden behind his cup of tea. And the reason? Always the same golden-haired bastard.

White sleeves rolled up to the elbows, torso leaning over the wooden table, his blue eyes bright and animated by the same radiant shimmer of curiosity as in Hanji’s gaze, Erwin was hanging onto his friend’s every word.

“So, if some plants can only survive in a special kind of climate, the outside world must be...”

“Full of plants yet unknown to us! And of landscapes we can’t even imagine! And if that plant we brought back can only thrive in a wet kind of environment...”

“...Maybe there’s a large pool of water somewhere further away, beyond the limit we stopped at last time!”

Levi cursed Hanji from the bottom of his heart. Erwin’s entire attention seemed to be focused on the subject, blind to the rest of the room.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, we’re not quite sure of anything yet,” Moblit put his hands up with a sheepish smile, cooling off some of Hanji’s building elation. “First, let’s see how our titan and our plants fare in the upcoming weeks...”

“Our titan and our plants!” Hanji happily cried out, squeezing Moblit’s hand, cheeks burning red from excitement.

“Even if it’s only guesses, the captive titans and those plants can still provide precious information. It takes us one step closer to knowing the truth of the world,” Erwin’s hopeful and determined gaze met Hanji’s, both bound by a mutual fervour.

Levi silently watched them from the side, scowling. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t give a lesser shit about all of this - he wanted to rid the world of titans, to keep tightening until the last monster fell under their blades. Not bustle about captured titans in wonderment or waste time growing plants... In that moment, he resent their joy; joy sprung from the bloody cadavres of their comrades. Was this what they dedicated their heart for? Part of Levi knew perfectly well that, of course, all Hanji and Erwin gushed over was important to some degree. But he couldn’t quite share in their foolishness.

“Well, here’s to another step then,” Moblit raised his glass, smiling fondly when he caught a glimpse of the earnest exhilaration radiating off Hanji’s face. She did more often than not put him through the mill, but that’s also why he liked her, wasn’t it?

The other two officers followed Moblit’s lead, lifting their glasses up into the air, but before clinking them together Erwin shot a lighthearted look at Levi, raising his eyebrows as if asking the Captain to join in. With a muffled sigh, Levi shook his head reluctantly.

“Teacups aren’t meant for your drunken shit.”

He got away with a small movement of the hand, slowly shooting it upward in a way that made it seem he took part in the toast.

Erwin, Hanji, and Moblit drank on cordially, indulging in one of the rare merry celebrations they’d allow themselves to enjoy - the last expedition had been a success after all, with no casualties and only two superficially hurt soldiers! Such victories did truly raise the troops’ morale, so, in addition to the dinner feast everybody got to delight in, Erwin wanted to also congratulate the officers who had been working had on the expedition. Hence the wine.

Only when the crepuscular haze of the night sky hovered over the barracks did the party begin to retire, tired grins and slightly dizzy heads wishing each other goodnight with remains of gaiety seeping through their lips; such a carefree, congenial time would probably be long to come again, so they had drunk from the brimming glass of furtive bliss until the very last honeyed drop dried out on their tongue. Waving Erwin and Levi goodnight, Hanji - held up by Moblit, bless his soul - stumbled around the corner of the corridor leading to her quarters, relying on the loyal shoulder that would help her get to her room safe and sound and not accidentally crash someplace else and carelessly pass out for the night.

Much like Moblit, Levi had taken up the habit of bringing Erwin to his room after another day of exhausting work or a festive evening, watching the commander’s ever steady pace out of the corner of his attentive eye and listening to him jabber about whatever occupied his mind on that day, barely responding himself, but always paying silent attention to Erwin’s words. Although he didn’t admit it to his own self at first - he liked it. Liked having Erwin stroll beside him, his deep and slightly fatigued voice untangling the knots in Levi’s own head, keeping everything at bay but an inexplicable wave of... comfort. And, soon enough, the comfort had even turned into something more.

“Did you enjoy the night, Levi?” Erwin inquired in his usual late-night chattery fashion, fingers already working the top buttons of his white shirt as the commander’s quarters arose in their field of vision.

The only answer he got out of Levi was a grunt, the short Captain pushing the door before them open. It slammed against the wall a little too harshly.

“Something on your mind?” Erwin persevered, trying to read the other man’s crossed features.

“Alright.” Levi ended up conceding, a resigned sigh escaping the vexed line of his mouth. “Erwin, I can’t seem to give the slightest crap about those shitty plants.”

“Ah, Hanji may convince you they’re—” Erwin started again, smiling at what he thought was just a heedless comment of Levi’s, but the way he was interrupted soon let him guess otherwise.

“No, you don’t understand. I don’t get excited like you brats. I just... Don’t. I can’t bring myself to care about shitty glasses’ experiments. Or even... That stuff you talked about,” Levi waved his hand vaguely, hoping it was allusive enough.

A thoughtful moment’s silence passed, Erwin considering what Levi had just admitted - he began to recall now how retiring Levi had indeed seemed during tonight’s celebration, quietly grumbling by himself and even cutting short on the playful insults he would usually hand out.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t have fun tonight, Levi.”

“Feel sorry for yourself. You’re the one stuck with a killjoy of a brat,” Levi attempted a sarcastic smile, but it came out distorted by a hint of sad resignation. Ever since he and Erwin had... this - whatever it was called - Levi didn’t hold back as much as he used to anymore; something about Erwin’s kind understanding, no matter the slander ghosts clouding the Captain’s mind, put him at ease. So Levi spoke his mind.

“Sorry?”

Erwin’s reassuring arms twined around Levi’s torso, the commander’s head settling on top of his - the height difference, Levi had to admit, was convenient -, and he planted a long kiss on top of his head; the first real one of the day, after the hasty pecks he had stolen from Levi in between tasks. For Levi, those intimate hours were dreams he’d never wish to wake up from. “Why should I feel sorry, when I can’t believe my luck?”

“I’m not exactly the funniest person you can find, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“And so what? I, for one thing, think you are funny. Your dark humour may take some getting used to at first, but afterwards, you crack me up, my dear,” Erwin mused, littering Levi’s neck with sloppy kisses. “I love you.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Erwin.”

However, Levi’s heavy heart did feel lighter already; to feel Erwin’s lips on his skin, his warm hands fiddling with Levi’s uniform to help him take it off, his precious words whispered against his ear - for Levi, and Levi only, to hear and treasure and greedily take for himself - soothes the Captain’s unexpected rush of self-depreciation. But seeing how happy Erwin had looked while talking to Hanji and Moblit had left a painful imprint Levi struggled to erase from his memory. What if... what if he’d never make Erwin this happy?

“Levi, I don’t care that you don’t get excited over shitty plants. You and I can care about different things and still care about each other too, yeah?” Levi felt the nuzzle in his neck send shivers down his spine, another one of Erwin’s kisses mending the cracks in his heart one by one. “I know you press my shirts whenever they get too creased. You bring coffee and food to my office when I’m working too much. You take Hanji’s laundry into her room when she forgets it. You help the recruits who fall behind in training...” Erwin kept on talking, going around Levi to face him in the candlelit room, until his nose gently bumped against his, and their lips met in what Levi could only describe as solace. “The list goes on and on. These are all the things you care about. And I love you for it.”

“...It seems your sappy stuff still gets me. You shitty, sentimental brat,” Levi drowned a teary chuckle in Erwin’s chest, clutching the fabric of the commander’s uniform in his fist. Then, he retired in his cat-like fashion, starting to ondo the buttons Erwin had started to work on. “I had no idea you were fucking spying on me the entire time.”

“Your fault.” Erwin followed Levi’s lead, getting rid of his own uniform before he slipped into bed, a tired look softening his features, and loose strands of hair falling out of place upon his forehead.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Levi joined him, huddling beneath the clean and cosy bedsheets, and brushed the hair away from Erwin’s face, savouring its end-of-the-day softness between his fingers.

“It’s your fault for having such a beautiful soul.”

“A beautiful soul?” Levi scoffed gently, pressing his shoulder against Erwin’s. “Never heard anything this stupid before.”

“It’s true. You may not believe me yet, but I’ll keep doing this” Erwin took Levi’s hand in his, kissing his calloused knuckles - “and this” -, then wrist - “and this”, then forearm, “and this, until you do.”

“I’m no sap like you, so it might take a while...,” Levi murmured in return, pressing a kiss into Erwin’s neck. A beautiful soul? Never before had Levi heard such words - and never before had his heart skipped a beat like it did when they struck him.

“It’s okay,” Erwin cuddled up to Levi, not suppressing a deep contented sigh when the other man’s nails gently raked his scalp, playing with his hair. “I won’t quit.”

#levi ackerman #erwin smith #eruri #eruri fluff #eruri fanfiction #levi ackerman x erwin smith #levi ackerman x erwin smith fanfiction #levi ackerman fluff #erwin smith fluff #aot fluff #aot fanfiction #snk fluff #snk fanficition #writing #my writing #eruri one shots #attack on titan fanfiction

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enbies-and-felonies · 4 years ago

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Only Then I am Human / Only Then I am Clean

(AO3 link)

@jatp-rules-my-life, this is your fault (based on this post)

Summary: Alex listens to 'Take Me to Church' by Hozier and maybe it affects him in a way he wasn't prepared for, maybe it just let's him heal a little bit.

warnings for homophobia and religious themes

taglist, just ask to be added or removed (i know it's not my normal work but,, yeah): @barrel-of-cat-mituna @completekeefitztrash @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @lemontarto @hershis-kotlc @genesiscaveat @everything-else-and-mars @juline-dizznee @chaotic-basics @an-absolute-travesty @classyfunnyquotesmuffin7 @smolanxiouscatvoids @itstiger720 @introvertedscarecrow @sunset-telepath @an-idiot-in-a-trenchcoat @cowboypossume @anaccidentwaitingtohappen @sofia-not-sophie @fire-sapphics @dr-alan-grant @real-smooth @juline-dizznee

The first time Alex heard 'Take Me to Church' he was on the verge of dozing off, which was an interesting feeling as a ghost, like he was a boat tethered to a dock and he might drift away if he fell asleep for too long. The evening sun was casting lazy beams through the windows of Julie's garage, and he smiled as the warmth hit his face, causing his eyelids to droop lower. At least as a ghost, he could still enjoy some of the simpler things in life.

An old radio crackled on the little table nearby, playing songs Alex had never heard before. He enjoyed a few of them, but others he rolled his eyes at. Idly, he wondered if Reggie and Luke were having fun with Julie; She had taken them on a trip to see some sights, but Alex had opted to stay home, feeling listless, and decided to catch up on whatever new tunes had came out since he was alive.

He bopped his head slightly to 'Bad Liar' and hummed a bit to 'Counting Stars'. He had missed out on a lot of good songs. Yawning, he stretched and settled deeper into the couch, giving a contented sigh as the next song started playing, a strong piano coming in and setting the tone.

Alex liked the man's voice, and he raised an eyebrow at the lyrics.

"-She's the giggle at a funeral / Knows everybody's disapproval / I should've worshipped her sooner."

He sat up and cocked his head by a margin, feeling a tiny, guilty thrill at the way his lips quirked at the lyrics. There was a forbidden excitement that came from it's gentle blasphemy.

"Every Sunday's gettin' more bleak / A fresh poison each week."

His heart twinged. A choir, a pulpit, fire-and-brimstone preaching, he was just a kid-

"We were born sick / You heard them say it."

He sucked in a breath and his eyes flew open, throat tightening like a noose, trapping his breath like a fluttering bird in his lungs.

~~~

"This Sunday we will be touching upon the topic of a Biblical marriage!" The preacher's voice booms across the congregation, and fourteen year-old Alex's stomach sinks as he tries to slouch further down in the pew, as if he could just slip low enough that the words won't catch in his heart and weigh him down like so many stones. He briefly thinks about the millstone the preacher once mentioned. He tried to remember the context, but the only thing he comes up with is that it was for people who sinned. He gulped.

"Now, 'what exactly is Biblical marriage?' you might be asking yourself! Biblical marriage is a holy union between one man, and one woman-"

Pastor James' voice carries on, and Alex does his best to let the words pass through his ears without hearing them, the rocks weighing him down turning to boulders. His stomach turns.

"-now, the men gotta love their wives!! Just like Christ loves the church, and cares for her. Marriage is a wonderful blessing, the greatest blessing we could ever experience in fact! It is perhaps the second greatest gift God has given to humans, and as such we must respect it.

"There are many ways you can disrespect the holy marriage bed. Divorce of course is one of them. In fact, in Matthew chapter nineteen, verses one through eight-"

Alex tries to tune him out harder, knowing what's eventually coming and yet still hoping to avoid it. He counts the number of stained-glass windows -twelve without turning to either side, thirty-six if he rotates all the way- and taps his fingers on his leg to the cadence of Pastor James' words.

One, two, three, four. One and two, and three, and four-

He makes increasingly faster and more intricate beats, imagining drumsticks in his hands, base-drum pedal beneath his foot.

One and two-o-o, and four and, one and two and three-e, four-

His fingers are pattering rapidly, and he forces himself to swallow, trying to remember not to bounce his leg, trying not to distract his mom and dad, trying not to dwell on the words he can't avoid, trying not to scratch at his wrist, trying-

He can't breathe. He's trying to calm himself down but his fingers aren't a drumset and he can't play away the sin that coats his soul and he's just a kid but he can't breathe, he can't-

"And that leaves us with those who have disrespected the sacred act of marriage by letting themselves be lost in sexual perversion. I am, of course, referring to those disgusting individuals who have chosen to live the transsexual and homosexual lifestyles. People like these were born sick."

Alex's hands quit their anxious movement. He's completely still. He was born sick.

He was born sick.

~~~

"The only heaving I'll be sent to / Is when I'm alone with you."

And he started breathing again.

"I was born sick, but I love it / Command me to be well / A-a-a-amen amen amen"

Air was rushing back into his lungs and maybe it was the way reliving that memory gave him closure, but it felt like the song was purging the preacher's burning words from where they'd branded his heart with wounds he never thought would scar-over.

Alex felt his eyes close again, letting the lyrics and the lilt of the man's voice wash over him in a cleansing baptism. His fingers began pattering against his lap, joining in with the beat, weaving him together with the music, becoming one with it.

"We've a lot of starving faithful."

He thought of himself when he was younger, sitting in church week after week begging God to fix him. He thought about the girl who bowed her head at the foot of the altar the Sunday after a lesbian couple was attacked, he thought of the way her fingers linked together like someone else's hand used to hold them, and he thought of the way she cried: silent, tears streaming down like shooting stars, her lips whispering unspoken prayers.

This song was for him, he realized. It was for him, and every moment he cried himself to sleep under his parents roof, thinking he was dirty, thinking he didn't have God's love, didn't have God's forgiveness.

It was for every time a prayer caught in his throat like a trapped butterfly, the prayers he could never bring himself to say because he was 'unworthy'.

"I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife / Offer me that deathless death / Oh good God, let me give you my life"

The lyrics seeped under his skin, replacing the lies that he had believed over the years. The lies about himself, about his faith, about his gayness-

Washed away like a world-destroying flood.

Because this song? This song was for every cold-shoulder from his parents instead of a warm hug, and it was for every time he had to watch him mom recoil from his touch, every time his father didn't quite meet his eye.

"There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin."

The first tear slipped past his eyelashes, and he heaved a shuddering sigh.

"Only then I am human / Only then I am clean."

He cried, but there was a smile on his face.

~~~

When Julie and the boys got back, the radio was long silent, but Alex still sat on the couch, tear-tracks on his cheeks and a relieved smile on his face.

He had sat there a long time, reliving moments in his life, and then letting them go, letting them be washed away. He was quiet when he was surrounded by the rest of Sunset Curve, letting himself be held by them; Julie comfortingly running her fingers through his hair, Reggie linking their fingers together and side-hugging him, and Luke tugging him halfway onto his lap. They were his family, and they loved him.

"You okay, Lex?"

Alex took a deep, slow breath, letting himself take in each of their faces, and he gave a small smile.

"Yeah, I really am."

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elysianslove · 4 years ago

Note

Omg I’d be so happy if you could take my request :) I read the Kyojuro x reader story and loved it! I would like to request Kyojuro x reader where they have an older son (maybe like teens and he’s an only child) and he’s a demon slayer as well and goes on a mission and hasn’t returned yet and Kyojuro is beyond worried. Thank you! I hope that doesn’t sound too confusing! :)

hi anon!! i’m so glad you enjoyed the other one, and i really hope i did your request justice. mwah <3

“if you pace any more you’ll burn a hole through the ground.”

despite this clear, and albeit teasing, warning, kyojuro refuses to sit down, opting instead to pace the floors of your shared home. it’s never often that worry gets to him like this, gnawing at his skin and insides. out of the two of you, he manages stress unbelievably well, given his status among the demon slayers. there are only ever two incidents in which he’ll let his nerves run rampant: you in danger, and his son in danger.

two years into your marriage and you’d gifted him a wonderful son. that, in itself, was a blessing. he thanked you night after night for everything, for the family you’re building with him, for the love you bestow upon him. to kyojuro, there is nothing more important than the two of you, and his younger brother.

it hadn’t always been obvious your son would choose this path for himself, the same path his father had taken, and his father’s father had taken. it slowly became evident, with his growing infatuation with the art of swordsmanship, with the need to grow stronger, to protect those he loved. you admire that so much about your son — the way he’s so much like his father in his self sacrificing tendencies. you pray that you never see his downfall because of it, and only ever see him prosper.

present time, you stand to your full height, walking over to where your husband has decided to stand rooted and shaky in his spot. you approach him carefully, an easy smile on your face as you place your hands daintily atop his intertwined ones, kissing his knuckles gently. “he’s okay, kyo,” you promise him, and the way you say it is so full of certainty, kyojuro’s heart eases in his chest, even for a little bit.

“how are you so sure?” he presses on, but you’re not thrown off or annoyed in any way. your son is only fifteen, but you’d trust him with your life more than any elder demon slayer around, because you’re so incredibly confident in his abilities. and you know that kyojuro is too. you know that there is no one more proud of your son than kyojuro, and yet, here he stands before you, completely lost to his worry.

“mother’s intuition,” you tease with a small shrug and a slight smile to your face. your husband relaxes slightly, huffing out a laugh. you release one hand from atop his, and bring it to cup his face. “i’m also sure he’s okay because you trained him,” you add carefully. “and there’s no one more capable than you, kyo.”

“you think too highly of me,” he jokes, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. his eyes fall shut, hair long and vibrant tangling in your fingers as you bring a hand to comb through it. “he’ll be okay,” he repeats after you, his voice lower, softer. you watch him through half-lidded eyes as he breathes deeply, slowly exhaling.

you hum in agreement, cheerfully, and lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. whether your intention is purely to enjoy the feel of his lips against yours, or to distract him momentarily, he indulges you, and snakes his hands forward to cup the back of your neck, urging you to kiss him deeper. you oblige, sliding your hands down to the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to you as you grip it tightly. the feel of him against you is euphoric, as it always is, always was, and always will be. you giggle appreciatively as he nips at your bottom lip, twisting your head slightly to kiss him deeper, breathing him in wholly as your spine lights ablaze, your heart bursting at the seams.

“this is really what i have to come home to after killing a demon—“

the voice is unexpected, and so is the creak of the floorboards beneath their feet. having been too lost in kyojuro and all that he is, you yourself had been too distracted, even if for a slight moment.

looking up, you notice your husband’s face light up at the sight before him. although battered and bruised, your son is home, in one piece, successful and satisfied. you barely register or process the moment before your son disappears in kyojuro’s embrace, your husband’s large arms engulfing him. you hear your son gasp in surprise, but nonetheless, and slightly reluctantly, he embraces father back. you notice that even at fifteen, he’s nearing his father’s height, and the thought makes your eyes sting with salty tears. but before you could lose yourself in the future, you approach your two boys, joining in on the embrace and pressing a gentle kiss on your son’s forehead.

“i’m so proud of you,” you tell him, and he laughs, cheekily.

“did you ever doubt me?” he jokes, kyojuro finally pulling apart from the embrace.

side eyeing your husband, you reply, “well i didn’t, but i don’t know if i can say the same for your father.”

a dramatic gasp leaves your son’s lips, followed by a teasing giggle from you as kyojuro rolls his eyes, opting to ignore the jab directed from you at him, and instead, focusing on his son as he says, “i’m so proud of you as well.”

your son smiles, shoulders sagging as he finally relishes in that he’s home, and he’s safe. then, he perks up, and asks you, “do we happen to have any food?”

end note; i really hope you enjoyed this, and that it isn’t too short. feel free to request more, and this goes out to everybody else as well!! luv u all, mwah <333

#kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader

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fireemblemtcg · 3 years ago

Text

“The Cipher Frontier!” Issue 58: “Cipher Will Never Die!”

"The Cipher Frontier! With Emma, Shade, Yuzu, Randal, Alice, Val, Niamh & Poe" was a regular column on the Fire Emblem Cipher website which summarized upcoming news concerning Cipher and other Fire Emblem materials. It was presented by the eight mascot characters. The following is a full translation of the 58th and final issue of the column, which was originally published on 31 March 2021.

More Fire Emblem Cipher translations!

Hello, everybody!!!!!!!!

It's been over five years since Cipher launched - and, for that matter, The Cipher Frontier! itself...

And today... we bring you the last one!

Sniff... So this is really it...

Aye, it certainly is a bitter occasion.

With the moment upon us, I find myself overcome with emotion. Yet at the same time, I cannot help but sorely wish that this day had never come at all.

Well, it... It doesn't bother m-m-me... Not... one...

BWAAAAAAAAAAAH! I C-C-CAN'T TAKE THIS!

E-easy, milady! You swore before we began that you would not cry!

I, too, owe very, very much to all of you, so... I am very sad.

Where there is a beginning, so too shall there be an end... It is an inevitability.

Still, one might argue that as long as there are still decks to play with and opponents to challenge... Cipher may be played for eternity. So think not on this as the end, for this is but a milestone of life.

Sniff... So this isn't farewell?

Not in the least! All of our players can still continue to get together to play Cipher. So as sad as you might be now to see the game end, the feeling won't last! And I, for one, would like to close out our final day with a smile.

To that end, I propose that we all share some parting words. You first, Emma!

Alrighty! Well, I've been here since the beginning, but... Back then, I was an absolute noob, wasn't I? I didn't have the faintest idea what a "Tea See Gee" even was!

But then I learned so much from Shade, and I presented news, participated in Tryout and Gathering events, and watched Live Broadcasts - and all of that gave me the chance to grow so much.

And then as the days went by, we got to meet Yuzu and Randal, Alice and Valjean, and Niamh and Poe, and we all always had a riot of a time playing Cipher together... It's all been like something out of a dream!

Lastly, I just want to say thank you...

To all of you who've been reading our column to date, thank you tho thuch!

Ha! Is that a slip of the tongue I hear?

Why, I do believe it was... And of all the words to flub, at that.

H-heh heh heh! I guess I am still just a kid after all... But mark my words, I'll be working even harder to become a mature, full-fledged knight! Okay, let's try this again... Thank you all!

Well, I'm next! I was primarily tasked with hosting this column and presenting news.

But the work introduced me to more and more friends, and to a constant stream of announcements that were news to me myself... To lose it is like I've also lost my reason to exist, but at least I am left with fond memories of it all.

My desire to convey the appeal of Cipher to others hasn't wavered in the slightest, but... this is the last time it will ever happen here. Alas. Still, I will always be rooting for all of you, even if we don't see each other.

There will always be a bond between us - always. Remember that whenever you play Cipher and see our cards. On this, you have my word! This has been Shade, shepherd of wayward lambs, saying farewell!

Alright, then. You're next, Yuzu!

...

Huh? Yuzu! What's gotten into you? Would you just get out here?

Er, forgive me. When everybody's gaze turned upon me, I could not help but immediately seek shelter...

Oh, yeah. You never did like public speaking, did you, Yuzu?

Of course! We had a devil of a time convincing you to come out at all for your very first column.

E-enough! That was many years ago: a d-d-difficulty that I have long since moved past!

Hrr-hrr-hrr... heh-HEM! L-l-let us, er, begin anew.

I am Yuzu. My contribution to this column was to introduce cards that afforded new styles of play... only to let a haze of utter passion promptly consume me and hence spend my every waking hour crafting decks from them and trialling them in matches.

You always were one to cry, "I must test these cards at once!" and throw yourself into obsessive research.

As such, I have acquired an eye for strategy, forged in the fires of Cipher, to incorporate into my prior mastery of the martial arts - and with that, at long last, I have come to an understanding of the very heart of warcraft.

Further, as a consequence I may declare with confidence that, should I ever find my brother, I shall be able to hold my head high for all that I have grown in his absence. For that, you have my most heartfelt gratitude. So end my parting words!

Thank you, Yuzu. Right, it's your turn, Randal!

Huh? Oh, right then!

I've got a motto: always take your games deathly serious, and always make your own fun on the job… And, well, this has been my chance to prove those words true.

I mean yeah, I'm a wanderer at heart; I might've stuck around a bit too long... but that's just because this was all a hell of a lot of fun.

Oh, I agree... It was a HELL of a lot of fun!

GAH! It's... It's you!

Well, well. We have a stranger among us!

Pah! "Stranger," indeed. This hair, this face, this ribbon... None of this ring a bell?

Eh? Do you... do you mean Randal?

Indeed! I am...

...His son, no? It is nice to meet you!

OI!

What are you on about?! I AM Randal, just from the past - younger than the one you know!

It's happening again! The exact same argument!

This really must be the end, if HE'S here...

This is how you treat me? I have to hear that the last column is happening at the eleventh hour and make a mad dash to make it in time?! Bloody hell...

What is this? A being under the thrall of the Boundless Chaos? How intriguing. I must conduct a thorough examination at once...

H-hey! What are you doing, Niamh?! You look deathly serious... Oi, that's enough! Stay back! I... I've got a sword!

Well, er, I'm just about all out of time, but I just want to say it was a hoot being on the Frontier. Hope I see you all again someday. Adios!

He vanished?! Still more intriguing...

Sigh... What a pain in the arse, if I do say so myself. Although... I must admit, we do agree on one thing: I'd also be glad to see you all again.

This might be one farewell, but here's hoping we cross paths once more! And if we do, hey, why not play a match with this old fart? And that's all she wrote from ol' Randal!

Thank you. Next, let's hear from Alice and Valjean!

Heh heh! At last! Shall we, Val?

Yes, milady.

The two of us made our debut circa Series 10, and ever since that day, the Frontier never failed to be a most thrilling time. Would you agree, Val?

Yes, milady.

My objective in making this journey was simple: to experience much in my travels, such that I might someday return home and become a great ruler indeed. But instead, I first became a most superior, most brilliant Cipher player! Utterly invincible! Favored by fortune! And whatnot. Didn't I, Val?

Yes, milady.

I remember... that every time a Cipher release day came, I would be up all night from their eve, crafting decks and playing matches with the others. Oh, it was such fun! Wasn't it, Val?

...Yes, mi... mi... milady! Sniff...

V-Val?! What is the matter with you?

I am most moved. That my most capricious liegelady could at last find in Cipher such an engaging hobby, such good company, and such a source of training - and that she could grow so greatly as a woman.

Val...

We have been truly blessed to have had all of this: all of you, who welcomed us so warmly into the Frontier fold, and all of the Cipher players out in the world. I wish to offer you my gratitude for everything.

To be honest... I have something to say on that matter myself. Thank you, truly, for everything. I will never, ever, ever, EVER forget even a single day that we spent here together!

Nor shall I!

...Having said that, milady, I fear that you are still yet unready for the throne! From today onward, we must redouble your original leadership training efforts! I fully intend to prepare for you an intensive study regimen.

I-I-I beg your pardon?! You will not speak to me so! If I see even a single incorrect mark, you would do well to prepare yourself, for I will work you to the very bone for the rest of your days!

By all means, do it. But be prepared, for I have a lifetime's worth of admonishments at the ready.

Heh... Best of luck to the two of you!

Your turn, Niamh!

I was present from the 37th column onward... To be precise, it was in the "Love and Bonds Special Talk CD" audio drama that came as a set with an artbook, sold at Comiket 93.

My inquiry and research into the miscellaneous phenomena of this world, and the Boundless Chaos in particular, shall continue, but...

...

Well?! Don't tell me that's all you have to say!

...No. To me, my inquiry into Cipher represented the introducton of a new, major challenge into my life. Cipher decks... Gameplay... Which solution is correct, and which is optimal... As yet, I still have found no answers. As such, it is vital that going forward, I collaborate with a broad sample of Cipher players and find an answer...

So what you're saying is, you enjoyed playing Cipher with everyone, and you're gonna keep playing forever!

That, er... Ahem! That's pretty much it.

Cryptic remarks if I ever heard them, but certainly Niamh-ish.

Right, let's keep this going with Poe!

Only a year and a half has passed since I was welcomed to this column, and sadly, in the end our association has been brief. But I was able to have a very fulfilling time with you.

Attending that Winter Comiket thing with all of you, playing the "Recite and Play: Heroes Iroha" card game being sold there... They were very happy days.

And in all of that, I have always been monitoring Niamh...

...

Hee hee... You have been a good girl here, have you not? I do nothing to good girls.

If one of you becomes wicked, at that time I shall... Heh... Heh heh heh heh heh...

So, I pray that we never have an unpleasant reunion, and end my speech. Thank you. This has been Poe!

Heh... Let's keep that warning in mind.

...With that, have all of us spoken?

Tsk tsk... We aren't actually finished just yet! Since this is our last column, allow me to call upon a special guest!

...A guest? Wait, you don't mean...

Ta-daaaaa! Here he is!

Hello, everyone! I am Kawade, the producer of Fire Emblem Cipher.

K-K-KawadeP!

My, what a surprise!

The publication of the final Frontier coincides with, at last, the end-of-March termination of event support for Cipher. So I thought I would share a message for all of our readers and Cipher players.

If you count from when Cipher was first announced, roughly six years have passed. That's a long time, yet it's just flown by... These have been very busy years, but also wonderful ones, absolutely full of memories and events.

In that time we've constantly taken on new challenges - not just the production of Cipher itself, but Twitter content, live broadcasts, and staging events all around Japan.

And through all of that, we've had the chance to meet so many fans of Fire Emblem and Cipher... That was not only the most fun part of all, but a part that made us happy.

Although, we were unfortunately unable to hold any of our planned events for our final year, and for that I am truly sorry to all of you.

Still, we staff stuck with it to the very end, and as a result were able to complete Cipher as a fantastic game that can be played for years and years to come. For that, we are proud of ourselves.

It was thanks to all of you, who kept on supporting us, that we could continue our work to this standard all the way to the final series. I am overcome with gratitude to you all!

Production might have come to an end, but Fire Emblem Cipher will never die! It would make me happy if, every now and then, you might bring your cards out and play with them. Thank you all, truly, for everything!

And that concludes KawadeP's remarks!

Whew!

That, I believe, is everything that we wished to share.

Aye, I've got nothing to add.

So I suppose this is it: the end of the Cipher Frontier's long run.

Er... Shade? Can I say one last thing?

Hm? What is it, Emma?

Thank you for taking the lead in hosting this last one... And thank you so much for all the things you've taught me!

(Emma...)

H-hey! That's enough of that! You're about to make me cry, and that wouldn't be ending this day with a smile, would it?

Heh. I guess not!

So hey, let's give them one last, enthusiastic That Thing before Shade bursts into tears!

Very well, then. That Thing it is! This has been The Cipher Frontier!

With Emma...

Shade...

Yuzu...

Randal...

Alice...

Val...

Niamh...

...and Poe.

Now, then...

Let's do it, everyone!

One...

Two...

CIPHER!!!!!!!!

THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING, EVERYBODY!!!!!!!!

...

FIRE EMBLEM CIPHER The Cipher Frontier! With Emma, Shade, Yuzu, Randal, Alice, Val, Niamh & Poe

Emma Emma continues to train in order to become a full-fledged pegasus knight. Her tireless Cipher training also continues, but she has yet to show much improvement at the game.

Shade Veteran mage that she is, Shade continues to teach the next generation. Many seeking to become almighty Cipher players have come to her, only to struggle bitterly under her tutelage - yet at the same time, to Emma and the others, she remains a nurturing guiding hand.

Yuzu Yuzu embarked on a journey of martial training, all the while following whispers of her brother's whereabouts... although evidently, she does return from her travels from time to time, bearing souvenirs, to partake in Cipher matches with all of her friends.

Randal Randal made a truly once-in-a-lifetime wager, only to go into hiding thereafter. Some rumors attest that he won, and that with that windfall he secured for himself a carefree life of quiet leisure in some southern land - others, that he met with a catastrophic loss, and was hence forced into labor in someplace.

Alice Alice's travels continue, as she seeks all the experience that she needs to become a true leader. Although at first she struggled, she grew to thoroughly enjoy it, and so she will persist in her journey without ever taking a break to return home... Or so she tells herself, at least.

Valjean Valjean continues to travel all across the land with his liegelady. Witnessing Alice grow ever stronger and wiser by the day, he cannot help but feel conflicting feelings of joy and loneliness beneath the privacy of his helm.

Niamh Even as she continues in her pursuit of wisdom, Niamh silently carries out research into Cipher. Her seminal monograph, "A Compendium of Cipher Decks," is over 100 volumes in length, and by all accounts is still in print to this day.

Poe Poe vanished in her hunt for evil, and her whereabouts remain unknown. However, according to the afterword of "A Compendium of Cipher Decks," she and Niamh have since fought to the death on many an occasion.

The End...???

#fire emblem #the cipher frontier!

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