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worth-more-than-two-thousand · 3 years

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Returning from the Dead is Easier Said than Done...

Request: Welcome, Shiny! May I request an x Reader (can be fem or gender neutral) where Echo (post-citadel) comes up to their s/o's doorstep to give them flowers and ask them on a date? A plus if the Bad Batch teases him for dressing up nicely and buying flowers. Thank you! (@handmaidenthesimp)

Author’s Note: Enjoy! If anybody wants me to repost with a gender-neutral reader, just let me know.

Story Notes: Some swearing, not much else to warn you about. Take place in-between Season 7 of CW and The Bad Batch. No Omega this time, sorry!

🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑

Being declared dead was uncomplicated. Your Republic file was branded with a "KIA" stamp, everyone stoically mourned, and someone just a bit shinier would step in to fill your shoes.

Being declared undead, however, was decidedly more complicated. Oh, Echo was reassigned to Clone Force 99 easily enough. But it was the little things that seemed to get mired in red tape. Getting his few personal effects back. Re-opening his modest credit account.

Approving a rental application.

Admittedly, it wasn't that Echo really needed his own place; clones were conditioned to be accustomed to share minimalist, often-cramped quarters. And they were always on the move, so it hardly made any financial or practical sense, in the long run.

But right now, oh, did Echo dearly wish that he was dressing up in the privacy of his own space...and not the shared cabin area of the Havoc Marauder.

He kept his face stoic, as though readying for battle, refusing to acknowledge his teammates goggling in the background. They had returned early from their supply run. Echo had meant to be out of here an hour ago, but (somehow) hadn’t counted on just how difficult it would be to get dressed into multiple clothing pieces with a scomp link for a hand.

So that’s how his comrades found him: trying to wrangle a neck accessory into submission by sheer will.

Oh, if Fives could see him now.

“You look funny,” Wrecker had declared decisively after an unbearably long silence. “What’s that thing you’ve got on?”

“It’s a suit,” he grumbled, refusing to look any of them in the eye. “I’m going to see Y/N.”

Wrecker gasped like a fishwife. He leaned forward, and pitched his voice low. As though the others couldn’t still hear him in the tinny space. “Your girlfriend? You mean you’re going to see her for the first time....since…” Wrecker made a muted cartoonish sound with his mouth, clenching then expanding his fingers in a gesture for ‘explosion’.

Echo stared at him for a moment disbelievingly, before nodding slowly, forcing the sarcastic response he really wanted to say back down. He couldn’t fault Wrecker for being...well, Wrecker. He had all the tact of a rampaging bantha.

“An’ what’s that? Around your neck?”

Echo opened his mouth, but someone cut across his response. “A bowtie,” Crosshair drolled, though his eyes glittered with amusement. Echo tensed, knowing that he wasn’t going to like what was coming next.

“Fifty credits says he chokes, and he ends up strangling himself with it in shame."

“No way!” Wrecker exclaimed, always the optimist. He clapped Echo on the back, who was unprepared so his knees buckled. He felt his metal joints strain. “Don’t worry, Echo,” his brother rasped in the loudest whisper known to man. “I bet she’s gonna love it!”

“You know,” Tech piped up unhelpfully, “Your strategy may backfire. The current deviation from your usual appearance may be so jarring for your beloved that she refuses your offer out of simple self-preservation instincts.”

Echo gritted his teeth. “Right. You have stats to back that up, I suppose?”

Tech blinked at him owlishly. “Of course I don’t. This is an obvious possible outcome.”

“I’m trying to look nice,” he snapped, scowling.

There was a loaded pause. “...’trying’ being the objective word here,” Crosshair smirked.

Before Echo could wipe the look off his comrade’s face with a well-placed ARC trooper punch that would’ve made Hardcase proud, Hunter wedged his way in between them, hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

“All right, laugh it up, fellas. Personally, I think you’re all jealous because you don’t have a girl waiting for you like Echo does.” Hunter turned to face their newest member, took the bowtie that was clenched in Echo’s fist, and smoothed it out before proceeding to tie it around his neck with surprisingly deft hands.

Crosshair ‘hmphed’ while Wrecker verbally agreed, looking slightly put out by the undeniable truth. Tech simply nodded in neutral confirmation. The group lapsed into a somewhat awkward (but not unwelcome) silence as Hunter finished tugging at the folded ends of the bow, then double-checking to ensure it was straight. He stepped back to assess his work.

“You look good,” he said sincerely.

Echo thought he was in the clear.

Hunter frowned. “But...it looks like you’re missing something.”

Or not.

“Like dignity?” Crosshair drawled from a dark corner of the ship that Echo frustratingly couldn’t glare at.

“A sense of self-confidence,” Tech suggested. He wasn’t joking.

“FLOWERS!” Wrecker boomed confidently. “All girls like flowers. You gotta get her some before you see her!”

“I...fine.” Echo relented, anything to get his teammates to shut up. He shoved his way through them towards the bridge. “I’ll get her some flowers. You all stay here until I get back. I mean it, Fives!” he warned.

An uneasy silence followed him, which he didn’t register until he reached the landing ramp.

He shot an exasperated look back at them. “What?’

“...Your former comrade is not here, Echo.” Tech finally spoke. His words were clinical, as always, but there was a touch of understanding underlying his tone.

Echo froze, just for a moment, then shook off the shock of his faux pas as best as he could.

It wasn’t the first time that had happened, after all.

Echo descended the landing ramp, squared his shoulders, and marched into town.

Y/N lived in a run-down but culturally distinct district of Coruscant, characterized by food stalls from species and ethnicities all over the galaxy. Children often ran through the streets, sellers in colorful robes and attire shouting their wares and art for all to peruse. It was one of the nicer markets, he thought, having come here once. He had been accompanying Y/N on her usual run for specialized ingredients that made the diner she worked at the talk of the galaxy.

Echo elbowed his way through the crowded street, content to simply blend in with the crowd, to forget about being a soldier for a moment.

He paused at a flower stand and was mindful not to draw too much attention to his scomp-link hand as he ordered a dozen sunflowers, which he remembered were Y/N’s favorite. When his credit chip was declined, however, he sighed and reached into his pocket to see what spare change he could muster up. Being that he was wearing a never-worn suit, however, meant that there was no change to be found, and the unimpressed florist snatched the bouquet away.

That’s okay, Echo. Y/N doesn't need flowers. She just wants to see you.

At least, he hoped that was the case. He hadn’t exactly written to her yet, unsure that he could sufficiently explain his sudden non-death in typed words...

Surprise! I’m not dead! Hey, you know that explosion on the citadel? Well, I survived! And out of it, I got an all-expenses paid trip to the Techno Union research facility! Why didn’t I write? Well, I was in stasis most of the time and that part’s a bit fuzzy. I also was responsible for killing my brothers by using their own battle plans against them. Oh, and you might notice that I’m missing most of my fleshy bits these days…

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, which were more rapid these days thanks to his enhancements. He was good at compartmentalizing, though. He had to be. He was still a soldier, through and through, and no one wanted a soldier who was about two seconds away from a mental breakdown.

Yeah, a letter to Y/N wouldn’t have cut it. But he still felt like maybe he could have sent ahead some sort of...heads up? A warning? A ‘Please don’t scream when you see me because I don’t think my heart could take it?’

His feet finally guided him to the front entrance of the building where he knew she lived on the 14th floor. Glancing around, he spotted some blue flowers sprouting in a planter near the entrance. He yanked a fairly healthy-looking handful from the soil, shaking the roots to get most of the dirt off. He tucked the strangled roots into his fist so that they would be less obvious.

It was time. He nodded to himself, squared his shoulders, and entered the building.

A short elevator ride later, Echo could feed the sweat beading at his forehead and neck. At least his fight or flight response seemed to be healthy and alive, and Echo tuned out everything but the door in front of him, adorned with a purple wreath of lavender flowers.

He stood in front of the door, and raised his hand to knock.

He stood…

In front of the door…

...and raised his hand…

...to knock, you coward. Just fucking knock.

His raised knuckles, however, refused to move. Echo caught a glimpse of himself in the curtained window panes on the sides of the door, and at the sight of his bloodless face, suddenly felt a whole lot less sure of himself.

He looked ridiculous.

He and Y/N had barely gotten to know each other before his untimely death.

What if she was with someone new?

This was a terrible idea. Echo should leave now, before he caused himself any more embarrassment. Crosshair might get his fifty credits, after all.

Echo had just convinced himself to turn around and admit defeat, when the door suddenly swung open.

Two Y/C/E eyes met his.

There were points during Echo’s battle career where time slowed to a crawl. When an explosive grenade was thrown just a bit too close, or the comrade you had just exchanged banter with received blaster fire to the face.

Echo was experiencing the same sensation now, but he would voluntarily stay in this moment forever, if he could. He fervently hoped his nightmares would be replaced with the sight that was etched before him.

She was wearing her yellow work uniform, white apron pressed crisply with starch...and was as beautiful as ever. Her hair was up in a messy ‘late-for-work’ up-do, a smudge of blushed color not quite within the lines of her lips smearing her cupids’ bow where she had applied it in a rush.

He couldn’t determine whether her reaction to his sudden appearance was positive or not, and so didn’t dare speak first, breathlessly afraid that if he did, the moment would shatter.

He saw her swallow hard, glancing at him from head to toe, gaze landing on his right hand.

He guarded his heart.

“Ech? Echo, is that you?” she whispered. Her eyes tore away from the scomp link hand, and began searching his face as though just as afraid he would disappear.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”

The silence stretched out, and the fight or flight response was creeping back.

“I know I look a bit different.” He tried for a light-hearted joke, but couldn’t quite get his tone to match. “Had some work done. What do you think?” He winced slightly.

She stepped forward and he froze as Y/N lifted her fingers, hesitating briefly before gently touching one of the metal bolts by his left temple. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“...do they hurt?”

He gasped a little as he remembered to breathe again.

“No,” he reassured her, raising his undamaged hand to steady hers. “No, it doesn’t hurt.”

“...good.”

The wind was knocked out of him as Y/N flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, tardiness to her job completely forgotten.

She began sobbing. It wasn’t neat little sobs, like in the scripted holovids, but heaving sobs that wracked her whole body, and he worried slightly that she was going to faint on him. He forgot about his scomp link for the first time as he rubbed it in circles against her back, murmuring nonsense words of comfort in her ear.

After several minutes, she sniffled, stepping back. She rubbed her nose ungracefully where snot was leaking out, but Echo could have cared less about any of that. He only kept his arms out to steady her, in case she needed support again.

Y/N glanced down suddenly, and flushed.

“Oh. I’ve crushed them.”

Echo followed her gaze and saw that he was still holding the blue flowers from the planter in his good hand, the bouquet having been caught in between their bodies when she had thrown herself at him. They did look a little worse for wear.

He shrugged unconcernedly. “They were free,” he said, not wanting her to feel guilty.

She stared at him for a moment before a bubble of laughter burst from her lips. She still looked like she was about to sob at any moment, but she smiled tremulously at him through shining eyes.

Desperate to make her feel better, he began rambling.

“I can get you better ones! N-not right now, though,” he stuttered. “Actually, it turns out that I don’t have any credits on me at the moment. Everything’s still kind of backed up at the bank regarding my accounts. Also, this suit is new. Well. Not new. It used to belong to this woman’s father who we rescued during a mission on Bith. Long story.” His brain, which worked faster than usual these days anyways, still couldn’t seem to catch up to his mouth.

He forced himself to get back to the task at hand. “I was actually here to ask you for a date. I mean, assuming there’s no one else at the moment…oh, but you have your job to go do…bantha spit, I forgot about that...” He would have to ask Tech if it was possible for his brain to actually short-circuit.

Echo finally trailed off. Now he was the one blushing.

The whole of Domino Squad was probably having a good laugh at his expense right about now, wherever they were.

But Y/N was still smiling at him. And her chin had stopped wobbling. She gently took the flowers from Echo’s hand and placed them on one of the side tables in the hallway before intertwining her fingers with his and grasping his right hand without hesitation.

“Forget about my job. Let’s go on that date. My treat. Though, if I know Dexter, he’ll give us a free meal, on the house. And the rest of the day off."

For the first time since he had joined Clone Force 99, since he had been rescued on Skako Minor, and even before the Citadel...Echo allowed a true grin of happiness to spread on his face.

“A free meal,” he echoed. “Sounds like a plan.”

#fic request #echo #arc trooper echo #tbb echo #the bad batch #star wars tbb #star wars the bad batch #tbb #echo x reader #echo x you #echo x fem reader #sw tbb #sw the bad batch

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shizukateal · 4 years

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The Holy Quintet: The BEST DRESSED Magical Girl Team EVER. Part 2: Characters made of symbols and shapes.

Part 1 here.

Mami Tomoe

Mami Tomoe’s outfit is a work of genius that really humbles me as an aspiring character designer. Watching the perfection in its simplicity only boggles my mind trying to reverse engineer the thought process behind it. Even if they already had decided on the huntress theme before they finished her, how did Ume Aoki came up with cutting the sleeves like that? Or with the perfect skirt shape that allows the corset to show all of her curves while puffing at just the right height to not make the hipline transition awkward and giving the shape of a flower? How long did it take her to find this particular color scheme? Did she immediately know where to put the purple to balance the outfit without feeling artificial? How did she realize that the stripes on the socks would add the ideal touch to the whole setup? Or the perfect way to turn the soulgem into a hair accessory? I would have gone the easy way and put it in the chest ribbon like the amateur I am! Did she have doubts about it while she was figuring out the exact design of the boots?!

This outfit does everything. It’s sexy without being unnecessarily tasteless, it’s girly and fancy but battle-ready, it even passes the silhouette test, it’s nuanced, almost realistic. Even Mami’s hairstyle, which in a lesser design would look too childish, is perfect for her. Mami’s whole theme is that she’s a little girl desperately trying to convince herself that she’s an adult. Her low drill-tails are doll-like, which is to say a little girl’s idea of what a fancy adult woman looks like. The side-swept bangs also give a youthful roundness to her face while being elegant, and the way the hat and hairpin complements the whole thing is just * cheff’s kiss *.

Kyouko Sakura

Kyouko is a fire gal, and as such her shape is a triangle, so her outfit is a halter top coat that widens into the frilled overskirt. Her ponytail also feeds into this theme, with hair bits sticking wildly on the top like the fire sparks of a candle, and the ribbon is just scrappy but cute enough to compliment her personality. Haha, ponytail, get it? Like a horse? Or in her case a de-horned unicorn, ergo her spear. Her look also gives us the impression of an outlaw with her pirate/rider boots, long coat and gloves, fitting her lifestyle, and her soulgem is on her chest, indicating her more emotional nature. I think the boldest decision was to leave her hands ungloved, or at least I know I wouldn’t have done that, but that’s why I’m glad I wasn’t in Ume Aoki’s position when Madoka was in production. The white details on her undershirt and boots also put an elegant touch of complexity that completes the whole thing. What I’m trying to say here is that Kyoko has the ““easiest”” design of the other puellas, but it’s still top notch.

Sayaka Miki

Sayaka’s outfit is a balancing act, trying to keep it’s knight aesthetic clear without relying on heavy armor to do so and thus allowing Sayaka’s more romantic, femenine side to show, not to mention her water + music/mermaid theme. Her whole getup is very ingenious. Her short hair allows the cape to flow without seeming excessive and heavy or an inconvenience, her hairpin prevents the cut from being bland, but still keeping a somewhat tomboyish look, and her skirt has a distinct asymmetrical cut that, with its white outline, gives the idea of a wave. Her boots are short, comfy, practical, and their shade is just different enough that they avoid the look from feeling kinda boring within its color pallet, without straying away from it. I’m honestly amazed at how well they pulled of her belly-button soulgem as well, especially without taking away from the knight theme, hell they even used that in their favor! That is ingenuity. It was also a genius idea to hold the cape on a choker to make it all fit better with a sweetheart neckline.

Homura Akemi

As I mentioned before when I talked about Senjougahara, Homura is a rhombus, not just in her soul gem but in the rest of her body: she is pointy, slim, and long. She is the tallest and lankiest amongst the Holy Quintet, her outfit primarily highlighting her legs and her hair ending in jagged points. What impresses me the most about it is that the shirt is very weirdly cut for a concept as straightforward as “school uniform”, but it works. I can imagine a much easier version of it without the undersleeves or the collar. Speaking of which, the shape of them draws attention to her soul gem on her hand, which is placed there to symbolize how she’s the most “hands on” magical girl. Her time motif is present in her back ribbon, which looks like clock hands, same with Moemura’s braids, and in her shield, which is small and attached to her wrist and also is actually a sand clock. That shield is a really neat, concise, and smart way to tie up the entirety of her wish, huh? Speaking of Moemura, it’s really interesting to see the conflict between the two versions of this character in their differences. First we have the hair, of course, then the red glasses. I sense that there’s more to those than what I’m interpreting here, but the best I can do is conclude that aside that Homura tosses them out because they represent her weakness the fact that they’re red means they also represent her emotionality, which Madoka returns to her when she gives her her red ribbons (which also represent the string of fate, of course, and also confidence in oneself). But the part that interests me the most is her heels. Moemura doesn’t fit them, she trips on them constantly, but for Homura they are a symbol of her maturity and composure. Naturally, the first time we see Homura break down after narrowly killing Kyubey before they could do a contract with Madoka, she trips on them.

@leafbladie also pointed out to me that the reason it looks like a school uniform might be because school is the only place where she could make genuine human connections.

Madoka Kaname

Kyouko is a triangle, Homura is a rhombus, and Madoka is, fittingly, a Star, aka. a cluster of points shooting out from a center, which also blends well as a flower motif. Or to put it even more eloquently, she’s the flower from the ground that will eventually become the star in the sky. It’s in her skirt, gloves, socks and ponytails. And the rest of her? Is a deception in its simplicity. After all, this is what you expect from the leader of a magical girl team, right? Pink! Ribbons! Frills! Come on, you’ve seen this outfit before, it’s practically the same as Cure Peach’s! But Madoka is aiming for something more specific: she is both a fairy AND a witch, the two faces of the Magical Girl, creatures of fairytales often related to either nature or to the stars, and it works precisely because she uses that shape. Madoka is a balance of roundness and pointiness, it’s just that those points are softened by the pastel coloring. Her balance in ribbons and frills is excellent as well. I should probably write a separate post on how those 2 elements work in general, but suffice to say that we all know way too many magical girls that just put those things everywhere. Two on her ponytails to highlight them, one behind her neck, two on her hips to smooth the hipline transition, two behind her shoes. Huh, speaking of those, Madoka has surprisingly tall heels, right? Taller than Mami’s and only matched by Homura’s. Really tells you who the 2 most emotionally resilient members are in the team.

The last piece I’d like to highlight is her weapon, which I’m jealous of because I did that concept for an OC of mine and now if I do it everyone is going to think that I got it from her. But in any case, yeah combining a druidic staff into an also druidic bow whose arrows are also shooting star analogues is the perfect choice for this particular character, the Goddess of Magical Girls.

And this, everyone, has been my reasoning and analysis of the genius of the Holy Quintet’s character designs. Follow me if you want more magical girl outfit analysis.

#puella magi madoka magica #magical girl fashion #madoka kaname #kyoko sakura #homura akemi #sayaka miki #tomoe mami

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blue-bird-kny · 3 years

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How You Spend Days Off

I stuck to only the three main peeps, but I’m looking forward to writing for more JJK characters. It was actually really nice to write for them, so I hope you enjoy~Amanda

P.S: Be safe out after dark!

Warning: N/A

( 2.1K+ words)

↳{shenanigans you and your S/O get up to on days off}

Yuji:

Days off with Yuji are unpredictable and always either involve something thrilling and very energy consuming or it can be some of the simplest things a person can do- no in between.

Yuji usually is the one who makes plans during your spare time (though he always gets your opinion, of course), he just really values time with you and wants to experience so much together while he can

It was common knowledge that this coming Friday, all the students would have the time off to rest as a reward for all their hard work with the recent influx of curse activity. Yuji wasted no time in planning the perfect day together, from the moment you woke up next to him to when you both fell asleep, he had something ready.

“Ah that was delicious Yuji, thank you” you cheered, arms stretched high above your head in an attempt to work away the sleepiness the food had made you feel. “No problem! Only the best for you, princess” Yuji’s smile reached past his shining eyes, thrilled you enjoyed the assortment of plates and bowls filled with your breakfast favorites he’d surprised you with. “Well then, my prince, to what honor do I owe your company today?” you asked leaning against your balled fist and bent elbow on the table, amusement and adoration laced on all your features. “For one day only, yours truly scored us tickets to…! Drum roll please!” Yuji posed dramatically, eyes cast down while crouched and pointing in a funny manner.

You proceeded to bang your fist against the table, laughing lightly, “We’re going to spend all day at Monster Con!” he pulled out two floppy pieces of paper from his back pocket as you gasped, “Oh I’m not finished yet, princess, we’ll also be wearing matching costumes I hand selected” You stood quickly, clapping at his theatrical performance as he bowed, repeating, “Thank you, thank you”. You made your way to infront of the boy, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders while he enveloped your waist tightly, pressing you against him. “Not going dressed as your pesky alter ego, huh?” you joked staring up at the taller kid, earning you a slight pout, “No, he’s not invited” he grumbled. “Sorry, that joke was in poor taste” you apologized, shifting to run your thumb along his juted bottom lip to smooth out the lines.

“No worries, I know ya didn’t mean anything by it” your hand stayed cupping his cheek, both star-filled eyes trained on each other as you both wore the cheesiest grins. Just as you stood on your tip-toes to close the space between each other, a warm gust of breath blew against the palm holding Yuji still, “I was wondering why you hadn’t spoiled the moment” you sighed, lowering yourself to lean your forehead against Yuji’s chest instead. A small mouth carved into its host cheek frowned, now free to speak without your hand suffocating it, “I can handle the women’s teasing, however what have I done in my many lifetimes to have to suffer through this painful love-sick puppies act” Sukuna complained. “Many things actually” you responded, muffled by Yuji’s shirt that smelled of a citrusy-warm blend you couldn’t get enough of. “Why do you always kill the mood?” Yuji groaned up towards the ceiling, earning himself a scoff from the demon king. “Oh? You mean like that I wouldn’t let y-” “SHUT UP!” Yuji slammed his hand against his own face to silence the man, his cheeks inflamed.

Now clad in matching costumes, you as frankenstein's wife and Yuji as Frankenstein, from the hair to the clothes to the make-up, you both spent the day without any further hiccups; how Yuji kept Sukuna at bay, you didn’t know, but I didn’t really matter. The stares from passengers on the train to the convention center was obvious to everyone but you two, lost in your own little love-sick world of old-fashion horror movies, delicious food, and pure, unfiltered content.

Megumi:

Megumi is a simple guy who likes simple things; he’s overworked and more exhausted than he even realizes, however he doesn’t acknowledge that...ever. In fact, you could run a mile ‘too quickly’ by his standards and he will have you take a break and drink his bottle of water (though you had your own and he knew that).

On your rare days off together, Megumi would silently stick to you like glue; he wants to do something for you in the creative way Yuji does and definitely wants to spend the time with you, but he can never come up with a complete idea of how to ‘wow’ you.

Except you didn’t need to be wowed, in fact you really were burnt out, so when the day came when you had nothing to do but be together, you planned a whole day of nothing with a side of Netflix and take-out.

You knocked on the door to Megumi’s dorm that was just a few paces away from your own. It was almost noon and you still wore your pj’s from last night, cookie monster shorts and an old shirt of Megumi’s you took last week, having made no attempt to fix your hair. “Umi~!” you whined, banging on the door a little harder, the plastic bag from the convenience store rustling at your side. “Coming” Megumi opened the door in a similar state; pj’s still on and hair sticking in even weirder directions than normal.

“Mornin” you greeted with the faintest grin, “sorry to wake you” “ I was just getting up” he yawned while he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Sure I can tell by the bed head” you teased, earning a playful eye roll from the boy. You waved the bag of goodies in front of his face, “Let me in, I’ll make it worth your while~” he chuckled, “I doubt it” despite his words he stood to the side, letting you past and closing the door behind you.

His dorm was dark and a little stuffy, clearly Megumi hadn’t had time to do the in depth cleaning the little neat-freak was so fond of. The continents of the bag clacked together and scattered around as you tossed it onto the small table in the corner, making your way over to his comfortable futon that smelled of his signature eucalyptus soaps. You flopped about for a moment, stretching, snuggling into the sheets still warm from Megumi, who was watching the small scene from the door, “C’mon Umi’ I wanna get through at least two episodes of SVU before we inevitably fall asleep wrapped in each others arms” you called dreamily with lidded eyes, already tired again as you buried beneath his sheets and pillows.

Megumi could feel his chest ache and stomach flutter at the image of the one who he cared for so much that it physically hurt laying there in his bed with soft, kind eyes just for him- it was almost too much. “Umi, I will eat all the sour snakes if you don’t come over here, your sheets are getting cold” Megumi was cut off by his own thoughts of admiration by your voice. He chuckled at the cute way your face cringed a bit at the sour-sweet taste of the candy before sliding into bed too, your head laying on his chest as he held you close. A small, genuine grin spread across his lips as the sound of Netflix starting rang from the TV, holding you even tighter, ‘this is perfect’

Nobara

Be ready to put on your best dressed because you and your girlfriend are hitting the town! Of course Nobara would find her way into the city whenever she could, foreign to the endless wonders the busy streets had to offer and luckily for her, you happened to be far more native with the many sights to see.

She’d let you sleep in, holding you tender as she traced her nails across your skin to form intricate patterns until you woke. You both would totally be the couple that wears matching outfits, the same colors and patterns tailored to your personal styles- of course this would also lead to thousands of pictures for Nobara’s instagram.

You two would laughed, eat delicious foods, and would spend way more than either of you cared to admit nor did you want to because the price of absurd, unfiltered laughter and the feel of just a good time, was one both of you could pay a thousand times (and a new pair of shoes too)

The sun hung lower in the sky than it did when you started this little adventure before noon, having been sold on the idea by Nobara that she “only needed a few things” this morning. Now, exhausted perched on a steel chair outside some cafe you’d never heard of with your sore feet elevated on the other empty one you waited for your girlfriend who was inside somewhere.

“Jeez even my fingers are cramped” you groaned flexing your numb digits; shopping was a grueling vice because no matter how much you’ve already bought, more cute sweaters, tops, and matching accessories called to you by name and the art of saying ‘no’ wasn’t exactly in Ms.Kugisaki’s vocabulary. “Here ya’ go babe” Nobara emerged from the shop with two cups, handing one to you before sipping gingerly from her own. You brought the plastic straw to your lips, sighing in relief as the contents quelled a thirst you didn’t even know had been building up. “I don’t think we did too much damage” your face fell and eyes bulged, flailing your arms out around at the brightly colored parcels that littered the table and surrounding floor, “Nobara there are at least fifteen bags here”

She laughed, her hand falling on top of your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze, “Still no that bad”. She scooched her chair closer to yours, her thumb rubbing nonsense circles into the denim of your jeans, “What next?” she asked leaning into her seat, her brown irises watching yours fondly, “Food? We haven’t eaten since a lot earlier and I could turn into a wolf any second and eat you” you teased, though food sounded better and better the more you thought about it. “Eat me? You promise, baby?” Nobara’s smirk earned herself a not-so-graceful, but light kick from you.

“An impromptu picnic sounds great” Nobara decided, tapping against you in finality. It became a game: You both had 30 minutes to run around the delicious food district to pick out each other's favorites, as many as you liked (which would be more food than two can eat), then you’d reconvene at the same cafe. Nobara offered to pick up a blanket at the convenience store because she ‘knew you so well she wouldn’t need the whole half hour.’ The game was on and time was ticking as you both rushed in opposite directions with several bags and a hunger to please the other.

You scurred around each vendor, selecting different meat dishes and veggies, cakes and watermelon, and even splurged on some fancy sushi from the place she'd wanted to try. Your arms quivered under the weight of the many shopping bags and take-out boxes, but you were determined to get back first. “Just around the corner- Are you kidding me?!” you yelled. In the exact steel seat she sat in earlier, was Nobara with an array of bags around her, boxes and the blanket stacked neatly on the table with dark sunglasses adorning her face and her legs crossed cockily as she spoke smoothly, “Beat ya”

Both of you grossly overestimated the amount of food you could eat in one sitting as practically unopened boxes lay stacked on top one another on the blankets while watermelon rinds and used plates were thrown into a garbage bag. The sun was low, almost at the horizon, painting the sky in pastel oranges and pinks with hints of purple and blue; the spring chill had blown a little heavier now that the sun was setting and it was getting harder to stop the shivers. Nobara laid against the trunk of a tree with you between her legs, holding you as her manicured fingers idly massaged your scalp quietly- you would have fallen asleep at the small gesture had you not been actively keeping your eyes open. “The boys will be grateful for the food, I’d hate wasting it” she yawned to which you only hummed.

“Hey” you turned your head up slightly, only enough to meet her gaze, “today was really fun” she smiled, slithering across your arm to grab your cheeks gently in her fingers, forcing your lips to pucker, “yeah it was.” Your wobbly smile made Nobara feel things, too many things at once, and a lump began to form in her throat, “I love you” you mumbled, Nobara’s breath caught for only a moment, whispering a thick “me too.”

Masterlist

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #megumi x reader #nobara x y/n #nobara x reader #yuji x y/n #yuji x reader #megumi x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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petri808 · 3 years

Text

@inukag-week Marriage prompt this idea ended up longer then intended so I’m breaking it up into chapters 😅

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

As Kagome rounded a corner of the castle hallway near her parent’s bedroom, she overheard something that sent a chill right down her spine. Knowing this could be her fate and accepting it were two different things, and maybe… just maybe she’d hoped they wouldn’t have subjected their precious daughter to such a medieval concept. Her back fell against the wall as her hands covered up the scream bubbling up in her throat. This wasn’t fair! It wasn’t right! How could they do this to her? All her life she’d played the dutiful role of Princess, never once giving into her whims, but oh how she longed for something more than these walls— And now it appeared she may never experience anything more than a royal obligation.

Unless she did something about it.

“Marriage in one year’s time as part of the alliance…” Kagome heard her father say.

“He is a good man and fine suitor. I pray Kagome will take to him well…” added her mother.

That was all Kagome could bear to hear.

She slipped away back to her room and gathered up only what would fit in a carry sack. The plainest attire she had, toiletries, precious personal items, and some money she had tucked away. It was a dangerous gamble Kagome was about to take and one she couldn’t even fathom the consequences for her parents. But in that moment, the thought of being sent away to some random Prince was akin to being sold like a slave and that was something she just couldn’t bear. They didn’t even confer with her on this! If they loved her, wouldn’t they have talked to her about this?! And yet at dinner they were still silent, never bringing up their plans for their daughter. Any doubts of running died away by the end of the meal and her mind was set.

Under the cover of darkness, Kagome donned her riding outfit cloaked by a hooded cape and stole away to the stables. She knew the stable boy would be away for his meal in the servants quarters, so as quietly as possible, she packed her horse for the journey. Buyo was a fine stead and waited patiently as Kagome loaded him up with a bed roll and her bag, making sure to use a worn harness rather than any of the royal gear. The last thing a lone woman traveler needed to do was bring attention to themselves. Finally with a bow and arrow strapped to her back, she lead the horse out of the castle walls to the world that awaited her.

It was imperative that Kagome got as far away as quickly as she could to avoid being tracked. Her parents would no doubt send out search parties once they found her letter in the morning. So, where should she go? For starters, she stayed away from the well-traveled roads within the cover of the forest. Using a map she’d stolen from her father’s war room, she surmised it would take about three days to reach the border between her country and the next one over. It was a start. Maybe get to their capital city where it would be easier to blend into a larger population.

Princess or not, Kagome was no shrinking violet when it came to getting her hands dirty. Most of the castle staff treated Kagome like a delicate flower— but not Sango. Her attendant had come from a well-respected noble house of warriors, and she was the one who taught Kagome to use a weapon, ride a horse, and other things not associated with a ‘proper’ princess. Oh, those were some of her fondest memories! And if there was one thing, she’ll miss is having Sango around to talk to. She’d thought about telling the woman but realized it would only put her in jeopardy to have such information. Maybe once she’d settled down somewhere she’ll send an unsigned letter so the woman would know she was okay.

Kagome stopped in small villages along the way only long enough to purchase food. She could have paid for lodging too, but that may have roused suspicions for a lone traveling woman. During the day she rode through worn earthen roads and at night searched out hidden caves or groves for shelter off the beaten path. Bandits were still a problem so she needed to be cautious since a pretty young girl could fetch a decent price in the slave markets. It was a lonely journey, her only solace the one book she brought to read by firelight in her makeshift camps. A favorite of hers. An ancient fable of a warrior priestess who fell in love with the very creature she was tasked to destroy. It was a sad tale, but Kagome fell in love with the idea of finding love in the most unexpected way.

“Not like being given away as property,” Kagome mumbled to herself. “I wanna love and be loved, is that too much to ask for?” Not because she was a Princess, and it certainly didn’t need to be a real Prince as long as they wanted her for her. She could be happy just living in a small cottage where she’d tend to a farm and raise their children. A simple lifestyle not full of obligations and surrounded by fake personalities just trying to gain a royals favor.

It took four days to reach the Inu kingdom and another two to the capital city. Kagome had only heard stories of it, so to see it with her own eyes it was quite a surprise. Not only was it bigger, but there was a larger mix of human and demons living amongst each other. Perhaps because it was ruled by a demon? Sango had told her the Inutaisho lord was a very powerful one but had an affinity for humans not always shared in their world. So much so in fact that he took a human Princess as one of his queens. That was certainly different to Kagome, because while concubines were still a thing in royal houses, having two Queens was not. Such a situation could cause territorial in-fighting and has brought down Houses before. It was a fascinating idea, and she had to admit there was a bit of curiosity as to what they looked like.

She boarded Buyo at a stable, then decided to wander around the marketplace to find something to eat, maybe clothing more suited to the commoner look she needed to portray. So, she wove her long hair up into a braided halo wrap style, strapped a small dagger to her waist, and set off into the crowded streets. This must be a major trading station, Kagome realized, because the market had a large variety of goods, some very exotic looking indeed. So much food, clothing, beautiful fabrics and accessories, weapons, really anything you could think of. The Princess in her ogled a few of the gorgeous dresses, but alas, that wasn’t her anymore.

‘Oh, what’s that…’ Her nose turned up to a sweet scent wafting over from a few stalls away. Something smelled decadently delicious.

She walked over to take a peak and found an array of different dessert type confections being sold. “So pretty,” Kagome mumbled as her mouth watered.

“Very and delicious too.” A voice spoke back.

Kagome turned to the female voice. “Oh, hello,” she smiled. “Have you tried these before?” She asked the young girl.

“Mmhmm,” the girl nodded.

The child looked about the age of 7 or 8, wearing an orange and pink colored fine silk dress. Her hair was styled, though was a bit of a mess as if she’d been running around. Certainly, this girl must be from a noble family, but as Kagome looked around and saw no one paying any attention to her, she wondered. “May I ask. Where are your attendants? A young one like you shouldn’t be walking around alone here.”

In an instant, the child’s small smile flipped into a quivering frown and moisture pooled in her eyes. “I-I got lost.”

“Oh dear.” Seeing the verge of tears ready to spill, Kagome kneeled down and hugged the girl. “It’s okay. I’ll help you find your servant.”

“I’m sorry!” The child whined and sobbed quietly. “I was bad and ran away because I just wanted a treat, but she told me no.”

“Shhh,” Kagome’s voice softened. “You’re gonna be okay. What’s your name?”

“Rin.”

“Rin, my name is Kagome.” She pulled back and wiped the child’s tears stained cheeks. “How about I get you a treat to cheer you up, hmm, would you like that?”

“Mmhmm,” the child sniffled and smile returning.

Kagome purchased a couple of the sweet cakes and handed one to the girl. “Now, do you know where your home is?”

Rin pointed towards the castle causing Kagome to flinch a bit. “You live in the castle?”

“Uh-huh.” The girl mumbled now happy with her treat.

Maybe Rin’s parents are nobles working for the King, Kagome surmised. It wasn’t uncommon for advisors or other higher ranking statesman to live in parts of the castle so they could be called upon at any time. And though she dreaded the chance of being caught so soon, this child couldn’t be left alone. “How about we wait a few more minutes just in case your attendant finds you? I’ll stay right here until then, okay?”

“Okay— Lady Kagome?”

“Yes?”

“Where are you from? How come you’re by yourself?”

Wow, this child was blunt, Kagome mused at her bright, inquisitive eyes. “Well, you see my parents are gone now, so it’s just me.”

“Awww! Me too, but I was adopted, and I love my new daddy! He’s mean to everyone else but spoils me,” she giggled. “What do you do? Are you married?”

Kagome was again taken aback at Rin’s questions, but she reminded herself that children are curious creatures and held no ill will towards it. She chuckled. “I’m not married and I um…” Crap! She forgot to come up with a cover story! “I’m a teacher, but since I left home, I guess it means I’m looking for a job. That’s why I came to the city.”

“Really?!” The child excitedly grabbed Kagome’s hands and started pulling. “We’ve waited long enough. Let’s go!”

“Wait! But your attendant?”

“She’s mean and I like you better.” Rin tugged harder. “Come on Kagome, take me home please! I wanna show you where I live.”

“O-Okay. Okay.” She wasn’t sure what got Rin excited all of a sudden, but she allowed the girl to pull her along.

While they made their way towards the castle, Kagome held onto the child’s hand. Rin appeared content now, happily pointing out different things as they passed by stalls or people and just behaving like a normal young kid on a stroll. Most of the noble children Kagome’s ever been around, were prim and proper whereas Rin had a feisty strength that reminded her of herself… when no one was around to see it. It must be nice to feel so free of restraint.

The entrance guards immediately waved them through once they saw Rin holding tightly to Kagome’s hand. The probably assumed she was just another one of the Princesses attendants or servants. It was a beautiful palace, sleeker than her own with gleaming white, alabaster walls, golden trimmed windowpane’s, surrounded by high-guarded walls. Once inside, Kagome was taken aback at the feudal decadence, but she couldn’t stop to really look closely because Rin was a girl on a mission. The child took them past surprised servants who bowed to the Princess with wary looks at this strange woman accompanying the girl. Down hallways, never deviating from her path into the heart of the palace.

Finally, Rin pulled Kagome into a room once she’d found who she was looking for.

“Papa!” The child squealed and ran towards a stately male with long white hair pulled back and a crown topping his head. “Papa Toga! I brought someone to meet you!”

#inukag #inukag week 2021 #inukag au #royalty au #inuyasha #kagome higurashi #inukag fan fic #inukag fanfiction #short multi-chapter #inukag fic #inukag week #inukagweek2021 #marriage prompt #The irony of fate #ch 1

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

lie to me, lie with me.

warnings. mention of miscarriage, divorce and alcohol.

[day #1348]

jeon jungkook doesn’t not believe in soulmates per se.

“i just don’t believe that you’re supposed to give your whole life to someone some invisible force decides is ‘right’ for you,” his eyes hadn’t particularly been observing the every change of emotion on your face.

but you were half-expecting that he would see through your seemingly momentous pause - when in fact, you were only going over the odds of him shutting you out if you spoke your mind. that all your life, you spent staring at the digits in your wrist for the moment you’d meet the destined one.

the other half of your soul.

he seemed like it though.

the kind of person to turn someone away at the romanticized mention of red strings and destiny, that is.

you couldn’t really say those words weren’t planned - no, by then, you’d already gone over the possibilities of this attractive but emotionally cautious man shutting the hopeless romantic-you out and you chose the only other option to stay by his side.

“me too.”

that’s the first lie you ever told to jungkook.

“really?” his unnervingly hollow eyes seemed to sparkle even just a little bit as though he wholeheartedly believed you.

“yeah,” you’d shrugged, eyes rolling as though the notion of two souls combined had been ludicrous, “like who’d want their lives decided on some countdown?”

in less than a minute, you’d told your second lie to the man you’d since then decided, could easily break your heart.

“cool.” but the ghost of a smile and the lull of his head as he looked at you with a sort of comforting mutual understanding, as if thinking ‘so it’s not just me’ - had been worth it.

and so began the series upon series of lies you tell jungkook who after several ‘would you like to grab dinner’s and ‘i like spending time with you’s later, became your boyfriend.

the numbers kept decreasing whilst long sleeves, wristbands and hand scarves began to find home on the surfaces of your counter, coffee table, couches - anywhere that you could think of, there’d be a colorful flowery piece of cloth or a black nike wristband lying around in your periphery. they blended so well with the background.

jungkook was tolerable for the most part. that is, until you moved in together and he bought a an empty bowl which started to get filled up by your wrist accessories.

“you know, i don’t really mind the countdown,” he’d told you casually while you were huddled up together on the grey couch of your shared living room, every change of color scheme from the tv reflecting in his eyes like a second projector, “you don’t have to hide it from me.”

he never did.

but that was because his was on 0.

it always had been ever since you met him that night at some party that your uni friends invited you to.

“i just like having something on my wrists,” by then you’d lost count of how many lies you’d spoken with your sweet lips as you laid your cheek on his chest, a hand on his abdomen whilst his arm tugged you closer to him as though he couldn’t stand a hair breadth’s distance separating you.

“what would you say about having something on your finger?” jungkook’s eyes had slanted to your gawping ones ever so casually but the way his gaze quivered told you of the nervousness that he hid almost perfectly underneath his unbothered facade.

“what?” you breathed out, lips threatening to curl into a full blown smile but didn’t because you couldn’t let yourself make up scenarios of a home and mini you and him running around the living room but when his lips quirked the way it would whenever he was happy but didn’t want to show it - you knew it had been jungkook’s way of promising for a future.

“what?” he casually shrugged.

you’d went back to crushing your cheek against his chest as the hand on his abdomen went around to his hip, hugging throughout the movie.

[day #899]

it was your second christmas together, surrounded by your family and relatives who’d all been supportive of you and jungkook’s relationship - that they’d teased you just as you were about to pass jungkook a bowl of salads to place it on the dining table. the spot you’d happened to intersect each other at had been none other than the doorway, underneath a mistletoe.

you were seconds away from going for a quick peck but he’d been faster to fall on one knee and pulled out a velvet red box.

“yes,” lie. “yes,” lie. “yes,” lie. “yes!”

fucking lies.

he’d lifted you off your feet with his arms around your waist while you kissed him passionately in front of your family. your grandmother had looked impressed, your mother had tried to hide her smile while your father was gripping the fork a bit too tightly - you’d then, commented on the slightly bent condition of one particular cutlery as you helped your mother with the dishes.

[day #542]

convincing jungkook to wear a bow had not been an easy task. he hated anything so formal and restricting, just as he hated the surprised look in your friends and extended family’s faces when they found out that your countdown was still running.

it took a lot of promises and pecks on his cheeks, lips, knuckles - anywhere you could get your mouth on - to get him to stay throughout the reception and after party instead of whisking you away to have your first night at the five-star hotel he’d saved up for almost a year to book.

but you were married and you were beginning to wonder if that was all that mattered.

“i love you, i love you,” you’d echoed the words as he’d slammed you against the wall after the guests left, drunk or sober but sleepy.

“you better,” the smirk he had on had been a smug one - almost as though he was the proudest and happiest man in the world to be able to have you. to call you his.

at least, even if he didn’t say it, you knew his love was more solid and real than your meaningless lies.

[day #248]

“we’ll get through this.” jungkook’s hand swallows yours as he squeezes it in what you assume to be a reassuring gesture - he’s never said anything he doesn’t mean.

but your heart is broken in half and your lower body is sore and hurting from the extraction process. you couldn’t even bear to look at the forming parts of a human - of who could have been your second child. or first.

you don’t know anymore.

“how, jungkook?” you question, eyes boring into his.

“wh-”

“how do you expect me to ‘get through’ losing my second baby?” the first time, you’d planned your child to be born on september just like daddy’s birthday. but on your second month of pregnancy, you’d felt an excruciating pain in your lower abdomen.

you didn’t take a hard fall on your butt. didn’t do any rigorous lifting. didn’t even do any chores - jungkook had insisted.

he’d been the most attentive, if he could, he would have marched up to your boss and demand that she’d let you work from home but you’d stopped him and convinced him that nothing could go wrong when all you had to do was sit on your ass in an air conditioned office until he came and pick you up.

“i lost a child too, ___,” it’s the first time he sounds so vulnerable. so fragile. almost as if another word from you would break him beyond repair.

“please just... don’t leave.” the sob escapes you before you can even suppress it.

“i won’t- i never will.” he kisses your forehead and climbs into the fit-for-one hospital bed with you after the lights went off and the nurses left.

but the truth hovered in the air like an overdue storm.

every soul who rejected their other half and took on another’s will never truly be complete. or at least, they’d never feel complete.

[day #76]

jungkook hardly gets nervous. the handful of times he did, you could count with your fingers.

the day he proposed to you. the day you both decided to take a pregnancy test for the first time after trying for a baby for months. and today.

“what’s this?” you’re burning holes through the beige colored document that jungkook just slid over to you.

“what it looks like.” is all he says, shoulder line sagged and eyes refusing to meet yours.

“i don’t know what it looks like.” thorny tendrils wrap around your voice - you start to regret it as soon as you see the way he physically flinches at your tone, “what’s it supposed to look like, jungkook?”

“you’ll be happier.” he doesn’t offer you an explanation. and yet those three words ring in your ears like a summon.

“no,” it’s a surprise that your neck hasn’t snapped from the way you’re shaking your head, “no- i’m happy with you.”

“we haven’t been happy in awhile now, ___.” it’s the single drop of tear that mars the back of his hand that rushes to wipe it away as though he’s the one trying to convince himself that he’d do fine without you.

like you would without him.

but you’ve fought too many times. tried too many options. marriage counseling. therapy. even trying for and losing another baby. as if third time’s the charm. as if you’re not doomed from the moment you both sat in his car at target’s parking lot, holding a beer in one hand. alcohol and 3 am conversations can lead to so many things.

“if you want to go back to her-” the lump in your throat forbids you from saying more.

“no- no, i won’t.” jungkook hurriedly refutes, his eyes burning with a sort of disappointment that you’re not sure if you can bear, “how could you even think that i would...”

“people change their minds all the time, jungkook.” you shrug, trying to be casual about it even though your cheeks are wet and your vision is blurred with tears.

a pause hangs over the kitchen you both shared and spent countless mornings making breakfasts.

“are you...” he starts but you don’t - couldn’t let him finish before you find yourself gasping and sobbing all at once.

but you don’t deny the possibility of your hand picking up the pen and flipping through the pages until you get to the back before scribbling your signature once the countdown strikes zero.

[day #0]

it’s been on zero for quite some time now. on the first week, you spend your days and nights curled up under your sheets. your cheeks don’t even have the time to dry before they’re wet again and there aren’t many occasions where your eyes aren’t swollen.

your heart feels like it’s being pierced by a thousand spears and your body feels like a tonnes of brick are crushing down on it. your legs, they’re shackled by the marriage you refused to nullify and rather teeter on a tightrope on in a guise of a break. separation. whatever they call it.

jimin’s crestfallen expression burns at the back of your mind and jungkook’s tear stained face etches itself at the back of your mind.

one chosen and the other destined.

one loved and the other, you can feel yourself falling for.

but you know better than to prolong both of their sufferings just because the young adult version of you thought you had the excuse of leaving anything and everything for your other half at your disposal. but lies upon lies built up into truths.

“i met him at a restaurant i was supposed to meet a client at,” you explained to the man with dark circles around his eyes and looking lesser than you’d last saw him.

but you probably didn’t look all that flattering either. throwing on what clean clothes you found in your closet and barely able to apply makeup before you left.

“he knows i’m married - he saw the ring.” it still wraps around your finger like a miniature cuff. a promise. a vow.

jungkook’s is missing, a lighter hue marking the spot where his ring finger should be.

“so you’ll finally sign the divorce papers?” his usually velvet voice sounds much harsher. as though he hadn’t used it in awhile. as though his throat had been filled with alcohol instead of words.

“what is it with you and acting like your time’s up? you said...” you have to take a well-needed breath to recenter, “you said you’d never leave,” if it was you from three months ago, you would have wept and cried like a baby. but at the moment, all that’s left is dried up tears and chilled anger.

but perhaps, jungkook’s is the shade of blue. a sort of flame that looked like it would burn less if not at all until you learn that it’s more fatal than its amber counterpart.

“yeah but weren’t you looking for a way out?” he laughs, the sound almost scratching against your ear drums like sand paper, “i always wondered when you’d stop this whole act... maybe feel a little guilty for tricking me... but your sleeves are full of those, huh?”

tricks, he means.

the last piece of your heart drops straight to the ground.

“what are you-” and yet you still try.

“don’t pretend like you’re all innocent!” the cups on the table shakes when he slams his fist down on the smooth surface. but when he doubles over, hands pressed against his eyes as though physically trying to push the tears back, the heart you thought you’d lost in this long, emotional battle - with whom, you’re not sure - begins to clench painfully.

jungkook might as well tear your chest apart and take the organ in his hands and crush it.

“it’s true, i was never sure if i truly loved you,” the confession is overdue. perhaps even lacking in so many aspects, but it doesn’t really matter, does it?

“but i’m tired of second guessing - i... i want to grow old with you... i want us to buy that barn and start raising chickens and milking cows and adopt a bunch of cats and dogs,” the tears you thought have dried out are now pouring like waterfall, “two’s a family. two and a bunch of cats and dogs’s a family.”

your eyes hurt from the way you wipe your tears with the back of your hand but your heart aches more as you watch your husband try so hard to hold back his own tears, “i’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

you’re undeserving of his forgiveness and yet when he goes around you and gather you in his arms, you cry and cling onto him like he’s about to fade away any moment.

“i love you, goddamn it,” he curses before kissing the top of your head, “i fucking love you.”

“you think i don’t?” you manage to force out, trying to glare but failing spectacularly as you weep harder, hands crunching his sweatshirt in your grasp.

truth.

fucking truth.

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but-first--tea · 4 years

Text

LFRP: Omori Kaya

THE BASICS

Full name: Omori Kaya

Pronunciation: Oh-Moh-Ree Kay-Uh (Omori is her surname, Kaya is her given name)

Nicknames: n/a

Height: 5'6" (quite tall for a midlander hyur)

Age: “A lady never reveals her age.” (adult)

Nameday: 32nd Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon

Languages: Doman, Common

Occupation: Not getting caught.

Current Residence: "Traveling abroad.“ (Basically living a tourist’s life in Eorzea, hoping to never be called out as the fraud she is. She’ll spend time as someone’s guest here, staying in a hotel elsewhere the next month, etc…)

Relationship Status: While she has never actually been married, the identity of the woman she pretends to be is a young widow and heiress. (Single)

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Pale, silvery grey

Skin tone: Fair

Body type: Slender, athletic but not in an obvious way.

Scars: none

Accent: Doman

Posture

Poised, athletic– though she’s no master shinobi, she is her mother’s daughter. Her training began at the age of four, and it’s still evident in the way she moves, observes, and behaves. Others who have trained would likely notice it easily. She carries herself with quiet dignity, and moves (or refuses to) deliberately, as if she expects each action to be read for significance, and takes great care not to reveal too much unintentionally. Though, in the very rare instances when she lets down her guard, this facade can fade away, revealing that she’s still a girl who can be amused, and charmed, and is easily mesmerized by beautiful places and things.

Accessories

She’s almost never seen without jewelry, though all of it is merely decorative– the trappings of the life she’s stepped into. None of it is personal, or carries meaning beyond appearing as she’s expected to.

Apparel

Her taste ranges from the classically dramatic to the outright exotic- not out of a sense of vanity, but in an appreciation of what is more or less wearable art. She most frequently wears black and white, though she also favors blue and occasionally red. In keeping with her heritage, she tends toward modesty in her dress. Of course, most of these clothes once belonged to a woman whose identity she has stolen, and she’s begun to add Eorzean fashions to her wardrobe to stand out less. The more she blends in, the fewer questions about her past she needs to dodge...

CHILDHOOD

Place of Birth: Doma

Siblings: none she knows of

Parents: The samurai Masanari and an Imperial Shadow named Harue, though Kaya has never known her biological father, as she was still less than a year old when he disappeared.

Upbringing: Raised initially by her mother, and later trained by grandmother once her affinity for magic became apparent. (More details can be found in her character history.)

PERSONAL

Personality

Outwardly, she is polite and mysterious, with a demeanor ranging from businesslike toward strangers, to an unexpected sort of mischievous and rebellious streak around the rare soul she’s begun to feel comfortable around. She’s evasive and distant. She rarely connects with others easily, which leads to most people assuming she’s either very shy, or rather snobbish, at first impression. She doesn’t trust easily, isn’t prone to showing any emotion in public if she can avoid it, and is often the one who, from an outward appearance, seems to be just another quiet wallflower enjoying the view.

Beneath the surface, however, she feels everything perhaps far too much, watches everyone with the wariness of someone who knows all too well what people are capable of, and deeply craves the connections to others she doesn’t seem to be able to form easily. She’s always searching for the few who can see the world the way she does- as something equally beautiful as it is deadly, meant to be lived in, not just endured. She’s a powder keg of passions always kept under a tight lid, hidden away for safe keeping.

Still, she is difficult to anger, and it’s a cold anger when it happens. She knows that engaging in violence and revealing her training would likely break character entirely, and being discovered as a fraud wouldn’t end well for her. As a result, she’ll try to think her way out of any situation, instead.

Motivations/Goals

If asked what she wants more than anything else in the world, she’d probably say to be able to do what she wanted, not what she was told, or allowed, or expected to. She craves freedom in all its definitions, but nearly always denies it to herself out of fear or pragmatism. While playing the role of a young, noble heiress she feels the restraints of her gilded cage all too keenly. She must behave in the way one raised to the role would be expected to. As a result, she finds small ways to rebel that aren’t likely to be noticed. Her fierce and defiant nature, thus repressed, will see her doing seemingly pointless things like rearranging the furniture in hotel rooms, stealing small items she could easily afford, or finding ways to secretly get even with those who have behaved poorly.

Financial Status

Ostensibly wealthy, though not one gil of it was ever truly hers. Still, she feels no guilt in obtaining the Omori family’s accounts considering they would have otherwise been seized by the Garlean government following Lord Omori’s assassination.

She has been quietly seeking a way to invest ‘her’ money in a way that would divorce it from her stolen inheritance, make it more truly hers, and greatly reduce the risk of losing everything should her false identity be uncovered.

Weapons

While she was raised to the blade and bow for most of her childhood, she hides her training and doesn’t carry a weapon openly, if at all. If cornered and forced to defend herself, she’d mostly likely attempt to disarm an opponent and steal theirs, or improvise.

Vices

Seemingly none, as she has striven to present herself as a woman of proper graces. However, she is prone to self-indulgence and spending far too much gil merely because she can, which she considers a vice in herself and tries to resist.

Likes

People who are intelligent, interesting, vibrantly passionate and alive. Watching people do things that require specialized skill, especially combat training or constructing something.

Constructive debate and interesting challenge. Trying/learning new things.

Music, dancing. She’s often wished she could play an instrument, but has never learned to.

Nature, gardens, fireflies, birds, waterfalls, the ocean/seaside. Traveling to anywhere with a spectacular view or vibrant culture. Learning about said cultures.

Exotic spiced foods or just about anything she hasn’t tasted before that doesn’t look absolutely disgusting. Tea. Fruits, chocolate, and spiced cider or tea. Have I mentioned tea?

Unusual crystals and/or gemstones. While she’s generally unfazed by wealth or status, she appears to be positively mesmerized by sparklies.

Dislikes

Politics, rumor mongering, cattiness, insults, and general poor behavior.

People who think getting drunk is the best kind of fun to be had.

Addictive drugs, and those who sell them.

Being forced to do anything, feeling not in control over her own life.

Overly objectifying unwanted attention, awkward social situations/obligations/expectations.

Being cold, biting insects.

Hobbies

Reading, especially the arcane.

Learning the history of different places and cultures.

Collecting small, easily transportable items (generally clothing or jewelry) in local styles from each new place she visits.

Pets: None, currently. She once had a magpie as a pet when she was younger, and maintains a fondness for birds of all kinds.

RP HOOKS

She’s looking (quietly) for a way to launder, er... invest her money to gradually eliminate the need to rely on her stolen identity and foreign contacts for access to funds. Have an opportunity?

A trusted lady’s maid, retainer, or guard type to help her maintain appearances.

It’s possible that someone from her past in Doma might recognize her, or perhaps have known the real Omori Kaya.

The woman she is impersonating is an ill-fit for her. She is fierce, independent, and rebellious... the exact opposite of the demure and soft character her stolen identity demands. But, her mother risked everything to secure her new identity, and she won’t cast it off unless forced to. Still, she isn’t perfect. Someone could catch her in a mistake, and become curious...

The Lady Omori Kaya appears elegant, mysterious, ...and wealthy. Potential suitors aren’t unlikely. (Romance is an option, though she’ll be hard to pin down at first, for obvious reasons.)

She has a (stolen) soulstone in her possession, and has been working to unlock its secrets.

Open to brainstorming other connections, past associations, or jumping into -your- existing plot!

OOC

I make my own schedule. I can be available pretty much any time from 8 am to 9pm CST. Sadly, I can rarely do late nights because I need to do that sleeping thing.

OOC communication is a priority for me.

I have been RPing for 20+ years. I am comfortable with both in game or Discord RP, and anything from short, quick posts to multi para. I do this because I enjoy writing!

I am not interested in random ERP outside of a long-term character interaction. I do love writing ships as long as there's strong chemistry between the characters, and both the character and the writer of said character are mature adults. However,I will not consider ships with alt or AU characters, as this is my one and only RP character. (No multi-shipping.)

I prefer a RP style that works with what is plausible within the scope of the lore. I'm open to creativity, as long as it makes sense. I prefer to stay away from void-heavy, AU, inserts from other universes, and anything involving cross-breeding with non-playable races/beings. (These are only my personal preferences, and everyone else is free to do whatever they like!)

Absolutely no: rape, harm to children, or graphic torture.

I do enjoy game content as well, and prefer company over doing so alone! I am currently sitting in my own personal FC house, but would consider joining a real FC if it makes sense for my character.

Confession: I probably spend way too much time decorating virtual houses.

#ffxiv rp #updated character sheet #Omori Kaya #hyur midlander #Doman

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spartanguard · 4 years

Text

(love will see us through these) Dark Days [CSRT; 6/7]

Summary: A century ago, the United Realms of Pomem had been a land of peace, prosperity, and magic. Until war tore the land apart, leaving behind cruel leaders and even crueler laws regarding the use of magic. And each year, the youth of each realm are subjected to a fight to the death, both for entertainment and to weed out anyone capable of wielding magic. In the 99th Magic Games, past victors Emma Nolan and Killian Jones find themselves serving as mentors, while Alice Gothel and Robyn West end up representing their realm. Everyone has secrets; everyone has something to lose. Who will win? Who will die? Just don’t forget: all magic comes with a price.

A/N: We survived the games! and there’s only one chapter left after this—ahh! Thanks as always to @captainswanbigbang for hosting this event and the best beta ever @optomisticgirl. Chapter title comes from “Kingdom Come” by The Civil Wars.

Important note: So, this is the chapter where things happen (in the past) with Killian and Eloise. While it's completely consensual, it's still not the greatest of situations (they're both victims, in this scenario). So if you don't want to read that, then I advise you to skip over the flashback at the end.

part 6: Don't you fret my dear; it'll all be over soon / I'll be waiting here for you

Alice felt like she was going to be sick. But at the same time, she didn’t feel much—like all her senses were muted somehow; like she was covered in a see-through blanket. Absentmindedly, she scratched, yet again, at the new bracelet on her arm.

“Stop it,” her mother scolded, swatting her hand away. “You’ll get used to it,” she added, a bit softer.

Alice glanced over at her mum, who was now toying with her own cuff. From the outside, it was beautiful: made of beads woven together in shades of orange that matched Eloise’s hair and, at least at the moment, matched the floral pattern that covered her flowy gown. When Alice was little, she would stare at it in awe, thinking it was merely a beautiful accessory. Now, she knew better.

And god, she understood her mother that much more. Alice’s was equally gorgeous—a sea of blues that mimicked the color of her (and her papa’s) eyes, and nearly blended into the stunning turquoise ball gown she was wearing. She now knew that those beads were made of silicon, and the wires and metal holding it together were all part of the circuitry used to block the release of magic. But it felt like her body was rejecting it, and rightly so; it was literally suppressing a part of her that had been there her whole life. So while her mother’s attention was diverted, she snuck another scratch in.

She nearly jumped when a hand closed over hers. “Easy there,” Robyn whispered, giving her a soft smile. “I’ve got ya.” She squeezed her hand over Alice’s, and even though it didn’t do much to relieve the itch that felt like it was burrowing into her soul, it was soothing nonetheless.

“Thanks,” she said, returning the tiny grin. Even though the games had ended a few days ago, it felt like they’d barely spent any time together. They’d curled together on the hovercraft, but the trip from the Arena back to Olympus was depressingly short, and they’d been split apart almost immediately and taken to recover separately.

She’d no sooner been hurried into a hospital room than a crude cuff had been slapped on her wrist, immediately stifling her magic. Cruelly, her mother had been the one to fit her with the current, permanent model a day later, while she was still hooked up to all sorts of IV drips that were supposed to heal all her injuries and make up for malnourishment.

Eloise hadn’t said a word when she put it on her, and didn’t linger to talk with her about it. No words were really needed, but Alice couldn’t shake the feeling that her mother had put a pillow over her face at the same time.

(Her papa visited too, later that night when no one else was around; he’d held her as she cried into his shoulder, just like when she was a little girl and her first rabbit died. But this was so much worse than a pet, and she’d been the one to do the killing here and...god, she still couldn’t think about it much.)

That feeling of muted senses hadn’t yet abated, or even thinned, so she’d taken to studying things even harder, focusing on every detail; right now, she was staring at Robyn’s dress, noting the bit of tulle poking out from under the bold red taffeta at the hem, the tiny red gemstones that dotted the full skirt, and the almost fire-like pattern they made over the strapless bodice. Alice’s dress was made in the same pattern, but the colors were a complete contrast. She had to give the dressmakers credit for that bit of coordination. She didn’t know how many times she’d traced over the seams and stones of hers, just trying to make sure she could still feel; amazingly, she hadn’t messed anything up yet.

“Are you girls ready?” Eloise asked, standing by the door of the small room they stood in. They could hear a bit of the hubbub coming from the other side—from the Victor’s Gala. (Because it wasn’t enough that they had been interviewed again on live television after winning; no, they had to be paraded around for the sponsors and other past victors, too. At least the interviews hadn’t had an audience this time.)

Alice wasn’t sure she was ready to talk again, having only barely made it through the interview without stumbling over her sentences. Robyn, blessedly, picked up on that. “Yeah, we are,” she answered for both of them.

“Then go ahead. You’re on.”

Eloise opened the door just in time for them to hear Sidney Glass announce their names from the room beyond. Once again, the large room on the first floor of Tribute Castle had been transformed, now into a glittering ballroom.

Robyn squeezed her hand and led them out, which was good, because she probably would have ran the other direction without her there. Hopefully no one noticed her delayed reaction, but she quickly plastered on her show grin and waved as Sidney guided them to the dance floor.

It was an antiquated tradition that the Victor opened the gala with a first dance, usually with the Gamemaker, but since there were two winners, the mortification was theirs to share alone.

“Let the dance begin!” he announced, and an orchestra started to play somewhere. For a moment, she and Robyn just stared at each other, giggling. But the rhythm was familiar, thankfully, so she guided Robyn’s free hand to her shoulder, placed hers on Robyn’s waist, and whispered “Follow me.”

There were only a couple missteps as they glided around the floor; Robyn was a quick study, and the more they moved, the more the nervous butterflies became a different kind of flutter in her stomach.

Robyn must have picked up on it, because she slid her hand from Alice’s shoulder to her waist and wrapped it around her back, tugging her closer. “Doing okay?” she whispered in her ear.”

“Yeah,” she murmured back. “It’s just awkward, is all—everyone watching us.”

“I know; it feels like a wedding,” she said, giggling a bit.

Alice didn’t entirely hate that idea, if she was being honest, and blushed a bit at the idea; her mum would scold her for being too young or something but she was still Killian Jones’s daughter, too; she’d inherited his entire sappy side.

Robyn was blushing a bit, too; it matched the red jewels that dotted her skin. “Just how did you learn to dance like this?” she asked, seeming to want to change the subject.

“My papa taught me,” she replied. Countless hours they had spent dancing in her bedroom at his house; sometimes it was silly, sometimes serious, and it was one of her fondest memories from growing up.

“Think he’ll teach me?”

“Oh, definitely!” Hopefully, she’d be able to properly introduce them to each other at some point here—not just the hurried thing that had happened in their quarters…gosh, was that really only two weeks ago? It felt like a lifetime had passed in between.

Blessedly, the music came to an end and the audience applauded. They both sighed in relief, but then—were they supposed to bow or something? They glanced around for a bit, smiling awkwardly, until Eloise ushered them off the floor.

“God, that was embarrassing,” Robyn blurted once they were off to the side. Alice was thinking the same, but knew better than to complain like that around her mum.

Eloise, though, didn’t shoot daggers as expected; weirdly, she smirked. “Be glad it wasn’t the Gamemaker. I had to dance with one who was close to retirement and could barely stand upright anymore. He may have worn a diaper.”

Both girls cringed.

“Anyways, now that that’s over, I want to introduce you to some people. Come on.”

‘Some people’ apparently meant half the past victors present. Not all of them were mentors; some just came for the party, and likely didn’t remember much of the introduction. Nearly all were recognizable, though, given that she’d grown up seeing their faces on the television. Some were especially so, like Regina Mills from Phrygia—famous for literally tearing out the hearts of her opponents (and who now wore a purple beaded cuff, the style of which was becoming more and more familiar)—and Emma Nolan from Misthaven, who had probably given Alice the idea of using the trees to her advantage; that was part of how she’d won.

But it didn’t escape Alice’s notice how Emma’s eyes kept flicking to her cuff, with some odd mix of pity and concern; she didn’t want either of those, thanks, but it did make her wonder if those two things were fated to follow her forever now.

When they finally made the rounds toward the Victors from Atlantica, Alice felt like she could almost relax; her papa was looking exceedingly dapper in an all-black suit with a flattering cut, shirt open like he liked, in stark contrast to Aunt Ariel’s frilly pink gown. But his rigid posture as they approached sent a clear message: they couldn’t act familiar here; not yet. So she drew herself up a little bit more as Eloise made the proper, if entirely unnecessary, introductions.

They exchanged the same pleasantries everyone else had, albeit slightly strained; it was taking every nerve in Alice’s body not to drag them both into giant hugs and shove Robyn at them. That’d have to wait.

“I wonder,” her papa started after conversation had lulled, “You appear to be a fantastic dancer, Miss Gothel. Might I seek your hand for a turn about the floor?” He extended his hand to complete the offer.

She glanced at her mother for approval; she had no idea how this might look, if it was normal or not. It probably wasn’t, but nothing about her and Robyn was anyway, so when Eloise nodded her assent, she probably grabbed Killian’s hand a bit too roughly. He just chuckled, though, and led her to the floor.

As desperate as she was to get wrapped up in her father’s embrace, he kept a polite distance, even if the steps were ones they’d done a thousand times. “I owe you a better dance when we’re home,” he murmured. “Without so many eyes on us.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” she answered. But now that she’d won—now that the danger of Olympus making her a target was over—she’d been wondering… “What if...what if we did tell people? Like, everyone?”

Her papa gave her a sad smile. “I wish we could, Starfish—so much. But if it came out that there’d been an inter-realm dalliance like this...I don’t know what it would do. And your mother has already dealt with her fair share of trouble.” He didn’t say ‘over you,’ but it wasn’t needed; Alice knew that much of her mum’s family died right around the time she was born and no one suspected it was a coincidence.

“I just hate this,” she complained. “I thought winning made life less complicated.”

He chuckled a bit, in the way that she’d figured out meant he was amused by her innocence; normally, she enjoyed making him laugh, but it rang hollow right now. “Darling, my greatest wish for you was that you never had to face this. But know that I’ll always be there for you—that hasn’t changed.”

She sighed. “I know. I love you, papa.”

He gave a half-smile that somehow always meant more than a full one with him. “I love you too, Starfish.”

The song ended much too soon and it would probably draw the wrong kind of attention if they lingered, so he gentlemanly escorted her back to where her mother and Robyn had continued to talk with Ariel—who surreptitiously gave Alice a thumbs up of approval that made her smirk.

“Have you guys seen the buffet yet?” she asked, then acted shocked when they hadn’t. Really, she just knew that Alice was always hungry and likely assumed she was starved right now—and she was right. “Seriously, Eloise; feed these girls!” she gushed, winking; Alice was going to have to thank her for the reprieve later.

They said their goodbyes—lingering a bit in her polite handshake with Papa—and finally got to enjoy the delicacies of Olympus.

Her papa was right: life was going to be more complicated from here on out. But between him, Robyn, her mother, and the other people around her, Alice knew she’d acclimate eventually.

Also—she discovered the best marmalade she’d ever had on the buffet. That might make it all worth it.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Killian didn’t have the energy to deal with this tonight. The Gala was usually his favorite part of the Games—if he had to have one—but when all he wanted to do was be with his daughter, far from here, having her here but being required to keep his distance was agony.

Maybe if Milah was still here, it wouldn’t be so bad, but she wasn’t, was she?

At least the bar was, so after the Sherwood group departed, he excused himself from Ariel’s side to get a drink.

While he was ordering, Jefferson arrived next to him. “That was quite a show at the end, there, Hatter,” Killian said. “Pulled right on my heartstrings.”

“Well, you know, anything for a great story,” the gamemaker replied. “I don’t know if everyone is pleased with the outcome, but it will definitely be remembered.”

“Who doesn’t love a happy ending? I certainly did.”

“Well, of course you would.”

Killian and Jefferson exchanged a long look at his comment. Did he know? Despite the comment, his expression was unreadable; it was probably best if Killian didn’t linger on it, then.

“Now comes the hard part: topping yourself next year,” he plowed on with a plastered-on smile. “Care to share your secrets?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jefferson laughed, albeit nervously. “But let me remind you that it is a Quarter Quell, and it will be the most memorable yet.”

Killian swallowed, thinking of the last Quell and who was in it, before smirking back. “Can’t wait.” Jefferson smiled in reply, but it almost seemed pained; it certainly wasn’t genuine, which was unusual to see in someone from Olympus—the games were typically a source of sadistic joy. “What, not looking forward to it? You’ve got the most coveted job in all the realms.”

“Yeah, I suppose. I just don’t know how much longer I can do it.” Astonishing; Killian never considered a gamemaker might have a conscience. Jefferson continued, “With any luck, I won’t have to.”

“Retiring already?” He was hardly older than Killian—much too young to call it quits, especially considering his, ah, wizened predecessor.

“Something like that. I won’t go down without a fight, though.”

The gamemaker then excused himself, leaving Killian slightly confused; something was going on. But he didn’t feel like thinking about it tonight, so instead he started on his drink and began searching for some company again.

He found Ariel in the crowd, talking with Emma and Graham on the other side of the room and felt his expression darken, brows furrowing. Emma’s betrayal still stung, though the intensity had dulled, especially in comparison to other blows he’d been dealt.

She hadn’t been wrong—he probably would have done something similar, had he been allied with any other team. But he felt too much of a connection with her—and, frankly, respected Graham too much—to have done so this year.

He was just angry and shocked at the initial betrayal, but now that Alice was (relatively) safe and sound, he was a bit calmer about the whole thing. It was still a shit scenario, but not as terrible as he’d originally made it out to be.

And Emma’s friendship—or whatever it was they had—was not something he wanted to lose. Perhaps it was best they found a way to bury the hatchet, even if that was a terrible idiom to use.

He shotgunned the rest of his drink, leaving the glass on a random table and letting the liquid confidence give strength to his cocky front.

“Not trying to steal my partner, I hope?” Killian said as he strolled up, grinning at Graham, before turning his attention to Emma. “Though I’d be open to a trade if you are,” he added, winking.

Emma rolled her eyes and gripped Graham’s arm tighter. If she was trying to avoid him, she’d have to try harder.

“They were just telling me about their son, Henry,” Ariel said with a sweet smile. “He sounds so sweet. Do you have any pictures of him?”

“Yes!” Emma said, reaching for her clutch, and pulling from it a photo of a boy with brown eyes and a mess of dark hair. Killian could see Emma in the boy’s features, but none of Graham. As if he needed any more confirmation there.

“He’s so handsome!” Ariel gushed. “How old is he?”

“Um, eleven,” Emma replied, somewhat nervously, the smile running away from her face. Eleven. The boy could be reaped next year. Killian said a silent prayer, hoping that wasn’t the plan for next year that Jefferson was talking about. But wouldn’t that be a story: the grandson and son of victors finding himself in the games? No wonder Emma had kept her distance from Olympus.

Sensing a need to lighten the mood, Killian addressed Graham. “You didn’t answer my question: would you like to trade partners? It only has to be for the evening.” Emma just averted her eyes.

“Sure, why not?” Graham answered, not giving Emma a chance to say otherwise. “Shall we?” He offered Ariel his arm and they went off to talk to Archie, an older victor from Arendelle.

Killian faced Emma. Despite his usual swagger, he found himself somewhat nervous. Not quite knowing what else to do, and not wanting to get into what was likely to be a heated conversation out in the open, he asked, “Care to dance?”

“Dance? Really?” She finally made eye contact with him, an amused look of disbelief spread across her features. “Didn’t you already do that tonight?”

“There’s no such thing as dancing too much,” he tossed back; he wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that she’d noticed his waltz with Alice.

Emma snickered. “Okay, but I need another drink first.”

“I won’t argue that. Lead the way.”

At the bar, they ordered two shots of rum. “To the end of the games,” he offered as a toast.

“If only that were true,” Emma replied with a sad smile as she clinked her glass with his and downed the shot. “I sometimes feel as though I haven’t stopped playing.”

That seemed to be the theme of the night. “They certainly have a way of following us, don’t they?”

He watched Emma’s face change as her thoughts drifted elsewhere, and his own would have done the same had he not been momentarily mesmerized by her beauty. Something about the light in the ballroom, paired with that familiar look in her eyes (not to mention the figure she cut in her red cocktail dress) caught him completely off guard. Goodness, it was like he was a teenage boy again.

He took a breath (apparently, he’d forgotten to) and reached out with his hand for Emma’s, squeezing gently in case she tried to pull back (she did), and smiled. “Come on, you promised me a dance.”

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Killian gently dragged Emma to the floor, if it was possible to be gently dragged. A few couples were out there—older victors who were mainly in town because it was something to do, bored with the monotony of life in their respective Victor’s Villages. Emma could hardly blame them; the only reason she hadn’t been bored stiff by now was that she was too preoccupied with Henry, as her parents were earlier with her.

Few victors had children, though. Why would you want to risk your child going through that torture? Henry was turning twelve in a few months; the next several years would be torture at Reaping time, and his genealogy wasn’t as lucky as Olympus would think.

Looking at Killian, she was stunned he’d made it through without losing his sanity completely. At least he had a happy ending, even if few people knew it.

Part of her wanted to ask him about—well, about all of it: how Alice came into being, how they managed to hide it while clearly having a relationship (if they’d even really had one; it was hard to tell based on their stilted interactions now), how he hadn’t lost his mind during every prior reaping—but now wasn’t the time.

It was probably a good time to apologize, though. Even if, knowing him, it would be a prime opportunity to knock down all her defenses, as he tended to do. However, the rum had calmed her flight instinct, so for now, she was just going to dance.

Out on the floor, Killian placed his left arm around Emma’s waist—she could feel the cool of his hook at the small of her back—and lifted her right hand in his. He began to move in time to the music being played by a small ensemble at one end of the floor. “So you actually know how to do...whatever this is?” Emma asked incredulously.

“It’s called a waltz,” he replied confidently. “There’s only one rule,” he said, leaning in with an almost whisper, “pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but those stupid butterflies deep down took flight again. Really? She hadn’t felt like that since she was a kid.

“Follow along, love, and you’ll be fine.”

It took some time, and she did stumble once (Killian caught her in his sure arms, responding cheekily “It’s about bloody time,” which made her groan) but she soon found herself keeping pace with Killian.

Falling into a steady pattern, Killian began making small talk. “You know, most men take your silence as off-putting,” he said, then leaned in. “But I love a challenge.” She had to laugh, both at how sure of himself he was, and at what he was trying to do.

“I think you know by now that doesn’t work on me.”

“Couldn’t hurt to try.”

Either he’d had enough rum that he didn’t care, or he’d already moved past the events of the past week. So it was probably time for her to do the same. “Killian, I’m sorry for how things ended. It wasn’t—”

“It’s done,” he cut her off. “No sense dwelling on it.”

“I know, but I still wanted to apologize, and thank you for all your help.” She hoped her smile sold it (to both him and her).

“It was my pleasure, lass. This was definitely one of the more memorable games in my career, thanks in part to you.”

She arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “I think I had less to do with it than you’re giving me credit for.”

He swallowed. “Aye, that’s fair,” he confirmed, and she didn’t miss his glance across the ballroom toward Alice. “But you definitely added some excitement, in multiple ways.”

Were it not for the rum in her veins, she probably would have had some sort of nervous reaction that would have burst a few lightbulbs; she still couldn’t believe she’d lost it around him—twice—and here of all places. Out of habit, she took a few deep breaths, but there was incredibly nothing to calm. To her surprise, though, Killian ran the brace of his hook up and down her back a couple times in a comforting gesture.

“Don’t worry, love—if I can trust you, you can trust me.” The gentle look in his eyes told her that was true; hell, she already knew it, but in general, it was so much easier to not believe it. (Because then it didn’t hurt as much when it proved to be a lie.)

Killian, though...she wondered if she might be okay.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” And then he spun her out, startling her into giggles, before pulling her back in. He laughed as she gripped his biceps to regain her balance. “I can see I’m finally winning you over, Nolan,” he said with a smirk.

“You wish,” she teased back, but gods—he wasn’t far. She really hoped that no one noticed how close they were, with her supposed husband still in the room. The Olympus gossip rags could be vicious, even if they were barely seen outside the realm.

He seemed to realize the same thing and sobered a bit, but she could still see the playful twinkle in those baby blues. “It’s a shame you’re taken,” he mused, albeit sarcastically. “We’d make such a gorgeous couple.”

“Do I need to remind you that the tricks you used on the rich old ladies don’t work on me? I know your game now.”

“Perhaps that’s true, but I do have a reputation to uphold.” His cocky demeanor slipped a bit there—as if he didn’t even believe himself, or didn’t care to.

“Was that what Eloise was?” she asked quietly.

“No,” he answered, almost whispering. “That was...a lone encounter.”

“It only takes once,” she replied, knowingly. “So you didn’t love her?”

“Not her.”

They were still dancing, though the complicated steps had eased to a shuffle. She glanced up and looked long and hard at his face, and the furrowed expression it was wearing—a familiar look of pain on his face she’d seen in the mirror far too many times. “What was her name?”

He hesitated a moment, glancing down, before softly replying, “Milah.” Emma vaguely remembered her; a beautiful victor from Atlantica, who had died suddenly a while ago—not long after Killian’s win, if memory served right. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“And you?” he asked.

Should have known Killian would be reading her, too. “Neal,” Emma said, the name foreign on her lips. As much as he occupied her thoughts, she hadn’t said his name aloud in years. “He died in the games.”

“Is he Henry’s father?”

Emma considered a non-answer, but frankly, they were past that at this point. “Yeah,” she murmured.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Mercifully, the music ended after a few moments, and Emma broke apart from Killian, as if the weight of their conversation was driving a wedge between them. “I-I should go back to Graham.” She stared at his chest, still afraid to look up; at least she could blame it on his always-exposed chest hair.

“Allow me to escort you,” Killian said, offering his left arm and a smile that did little to hide how he was equally affected. Emma took a deep breath, took his arm, and smiled, putting back up the emotional walls she could so easily hide behind. Even though Graham was her best friend, she’d barely let him get through them; so how had Killian broken through so quickly, and so repeatedly?

Ariel and Graham were still chatting with Archie when Emma and Killian found them. “Greetings, Arch!” Killian nearly shouted as they approached, reaching out to shake Archie’s hand.

The man from Arendelle gingerly took it and lightly shook. “Hello, Killian, Emma,” nodding at each in turn. It was hard to imagine this timid man ever winning the games, but he had somehow pulled it off—being from Arendelle, he would have been exposed to any number of technologies that proved useful in Neverland. He did his best to pass on his knowledge to the tributes he mentored, but had only had limited success; mainly with Belle French, who won a handful of years ago and was likely even more technologically savvy than Archie. She had somehow managed to electrocute a number of tributes during her games, due to some handy wire and a well-timed thunderstorm.

They'd never actually talked—there hadn’t been occasion to—but Emma had always admired Belle from afar. In addition to being highly intelligent, she also seemed incredibly sweet. “Where is Belle? I had hoped to see her tonight,” Emma asked.

“Oh, she c-couldn’t make it,” Archie answered, nervous even for him. “President Gold invited her to join him tonight, to watch the Victors’ interview.”

Emma was still on Killian’s arm, and felt his whole body go rigid at the mention of the president. His face must have darkened, too, because Ariel asked, “Killian? Are you alright?” He seemed lost in thought for a moment, but quickly snapped out of it.

“Of course, love; I’m fine. Just worn down from the week. But I promised this fine lady that I would escort her back to her beau.”

Emma knew she should unwrap herself from Killian’s arm, but given what had just passed between them, she was more than a little concerned. He was nearly as agitated as he’d been during the Games.

“Actually,” she said, faking a yawn, “I think I might turn in, but you can stay down here if you want,” she told Graham. He was clearly enjoying the company—and she couldn’t shake the desire to soothe Killian, or at least get him out of the public eye.

“You sure?” Graham asked—but she could read his second meaning: was she sure about trying to help Killian?

“Yeah,” she said confidently, then turned to the man on her arm. “Weren’t you heading back, too?”

He blinked at her dramatically, but then figured out what she was suggesting. “Aye; I still need to pack, I’m afraid. I promise to see your lady back safely,” he assured Graham.

“You better,” Graham threw back, smiling encouragingly. She knew what that look meant—it was the kind he always gave her when he wanted her to try something new. But she was going to ignore that.

They bid Archie farewell, who promptly and absentmindedly wandered off. Ariel pulled Emma into an embrace that Emma didn’t hesitate to return—regardless of whatever was going on between her and Killian, Emma had definitely found a new friend in Ariel. “Take care, Emma! I’ll miss you!” the other woman squealed.

“I’ll miss you, too!” She wasn’t used to such outpouring of emotion, but there didn’t seem to be any other option when it came to Ariel; it was a stark contrast to the polite but friendly handshake exchanged between Killian and Graham.

She told Graham she’d see him later, trying to be a bit less casual than she usually was, and led the way as she and Killian left the room. He relaxed immediately in the hallway, but she’d learned her lesson when it came to discussing major revelations there, and continued to guide him to the elevator.

It was already there, so they didn’t have to wait to step on board. As soon as the door closed, she turned to face him, noting the brooding grimace on his face. “What happened?”

He clenched his jaw. “Now, or then?”

“Either.”

“Milah...also spent a lot of time with Gold,” he slowly explained. “She was his favorite.”

“Oh,” she breathed. The president was not known for playing well with others...or for sharing his toys. “Is that how she…?”

“Yeah.”

It was Emma's turn to say “I’m sorry.”

Killian nodded, all the while staring at the floor. “I’d hate to see another woman face that fate.”

“I get it.”

The elevator dinged, indicating they’d arrived on her floor. Wordlessly, they exited, and found their way to the Misthaven quarter’s entrance.

“Thank you for getting me out of there,” Killian said.

“You can only put on a brave face for so long,” Emma shrugged. She’d definitely been in that position. “And you’ve had to do that enough lately.”

He scoffed. “Yeah.”

A slightly awkward silence settled over them then. “Well, I should—” she started, gesturing at the door.

“Yes, yeah, you should—early train,” Killian stammered back, finally looking her in the eyes. He offered his right hand to her, continuing, “I...I enjoyed working with you this week. Until next year?”

She glanced at his hand, but it seemed so informal. And there was just enough rum still left in her veins, and just enough of her emotional energy had been spent tonight that she didn’t have any more left to spend thinking about things like propriety or denial.

She stepped forward, into his space, and grabbed the lapels on his jacket. Then she pressed herself forward and found his lips with hers.

He stilled for a moment, but then his hand found its way to her waist and he leaned into it, firm and insistent but gentle and soft. He tilted his head to deepen it, and for a few brief, shared moments, they were the only people in Pomem. Maybe it was just because it had been so long, but she couldn’t remember being kissed like this—reverently and carefully.

The kiss broke apart naturally, but they stayed close, foreheads touching. “That was…” he breathed, his voice wrecked.

“A one-time thing,” she answered, regrettably knowing that it would have to be.

He nodded against her, then stepped back and took a deep breath, seeming to regain his composure. “Until next year, then. Safe travels, Emma.”

“You too, Killian,” she said with a soft smile that he thankfully returned.

As much as she wanted to watch him walk away, she instead slipped inside their quarters, swiftly shutting the door behind her. But she leaned back against it, breathing heavily.

Had she really just done that? Had she just actually kissed Killian Jones? A man she’d see, at best, once a year?

Yeah, he understood her more than anyone she’d ever known, and yeah, he was charming and smart and strong. And he’d somehow gotten under her skin and slipped behind all her walls.

Well, like she said—one-time thing. She was just getting him out of her system. She’d have the year ahead to cool off, and then they could continue on as friends. Right?

Right.

She sighed, scrubbed a hand down her face, and glanced around at the too-empty suite.

God, she hated the games.

It was definitely time to go home.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Seventeen years ago

The pain medications in Olympus were something else. Killian felt mostly clear-headed and in control, with just the slightest unnatural euphoria. But he’d made it through the post-Games interview just fine, he thought, so perhaps they weren’t overly strong.

Until he found himself vomiting in a broom closet outside the Victory celebration. His mental state was back on the ground—but the pain at the end of his arm had returned full-force, fire burning in a hand that wasn’t there. (And, irrationally, he was worried about staining the expensive suit he wore.)

“The drugs wore off?” a female voice asked from outside the threshold.

“Aye,” he panted. “Can you get my mentor?”

He heard the woman’s footsteps as she walked away, then a pair returned. “Milah; thank y—ouu,” he started to say as he emerged from the closet, but it wasn’t Milah walking towards him. It was Eloise Gothel, who’d won the Games a couple years ago. Like most Victors-turned-mentors, she was dressed in the style of Olympus, her red hair in a complicated updo and a flowing green gown that somehow managed to hug all her curves. He averted his gaze, though, when he realized his eyes were wandering.

“Here,” she said, holding out her hand to reveal two small, white pills. “They’re not as strong, but better than nothing.”

“Thanks,” he answered, and she tipped them into his palm. He quickly popped them, and washed them down with the glass of water she’d also brought. The effect was nearly immediate as the throbbing dulled and he could breathe again. And then took a few more sips to wash the taste of vomit from his mouth. Just one room over were all kinds of delicacies, and here he was, unable to stomach any of it. How cruel.

“I suppose I should head back in,” he said, suddenly feeling awkward in the presence of a Victor (well, another one—he still had to remind himself that he was one now, too). Especially one like Eloise, who had won in such a cutthroat manner—literally by cutting throats, after immobilizing people with her magic and making use of the poisonous plants in the arena. The thick bracelet on her wrist was likely the only thing holding her powers back now. (It was all a stark contrast to the beautiful visage in front of him; he was having a hard time tamping down his attraction.) “Were you sent out here to find me?”

“I was,” she stated matter-of-factly; the expression on her face was hard to read—possibly intrigued, or possibly annoyed. (Or both.) “But not to return you to the party. Would you like to come with me?”

“Where?”

“Someplace special.” There was genuine amusement in her blue eyes, but he wasn’t sure how sincere her half smile was. Still, he had no reason to turn her down.

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Follow me.”

She led him down the hallway and around a couple corners to what looked like an office of some sort; he wondered if it belonged to the Gamemaker. Eloise pressed her finger against the keypad and the door slid open. He didn’t know why he hesitated to follow her in, though, until she turned around and beckoned.

Inside was nothing like he’d expected. Much of the Tribute Castle was clean and cold, sharp lines and sterile surfaces. But this room was the exact opposite: dark, warm colors covered everything, and all the furniture was the plushest he’d ever seen. An especially comfortable-looking bed was off to one side and the soft lighting made the space feel even more welcoming.

“What is this?” he asked on a breath.

“Somewhere to relax,” she replied, falling against a cushion so stuffed he couldn’t tell if it was actually a sofa or merely a giant pillow. “Join me, won’t you?”

It certainly looked enticing—as did the company—so he complied, letting himself collapse next to her. The cushion somehow managed to both support and embrace his body, although he winced a bit at the way his blunted wrist hit it; he was still getting used to that.

“Are you alright?” she asked, concerned.

“Aye, I’m fine,” he lied, wanting to impress the slightly older woman. The strap on her dress had slipped a bit, revealing the curve of her bosom. He may have just survived a battle to the death, but he was still technically a young, hormonal man.

“Perhaps you’d like a distraction?” she breathed, shifting closer.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Good.” And then she surged forward, claiming his lips with hers.

A blushing virgin, Killian was not, but that was certainly one of the more enjoyable nights in his memory. He learned a thing or two about how to pleasure both a woman and himself.

They were laying in the afterglow, sharing slightly awkward smiles and giggles. For the first time since his name had been plucked, he’d finally been able to forget where he was and what was going on around him; if he was reading the slightly starry expression on Eloise’s face correctly, she felt the same.

It was at that perfect moment of bliss, of course, that he was jarred by the sound of a cough coming from the shadows.

He jolted away from Eloise in shock; she seemed equally surprised, but less confused.

“Oh, don’t stop on my part,” the person called out, and it was easy to tell who the voice belonged to.

“Welcome, Mister Jones,” President Gold said, rising to his feet. “And let me extend my congratulations again.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” Killian answered, but he was utterly confused (both mentally and physically).

“I see you’re getting along well with Miss Gothel.”

“Yeah…” he said, but when he looked to Eloise for guidance, he could no longer read her expression.

“You know, you’re quite the handsome young man,” Gold continued, hobbling forward with his cane. “I’m sure you’ve attracted many admirers over the last few weeks.”

What on earth was the President getting at? And why the bloody hell was he here? Had he...had he watched?

“An attractive young man like you...people would pay a high price to fall into your good graces.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t follow,” Killian finally had to say, trying to sit up while also keep his modesty somewhat intact, tugging the covers over his lap.

“Eloise, you didn’t tell him?”

“Not yet, sir; I figured it would be best coming from you.” There was just enough defiance in her tone that Killian could tell whatever was going on wasn’t entirely by choice.

“I suppose you’re right,” the President sighed. “Well, Mister Jones, you see, I have many friends who I like to repay for their loyalty and support. And I have access to the rarest, most desired commodity around.”

“What, Victors?”

“Exactly. Particularly the ones, such as yourself and Miss Gothel, who are exceedingly appealing to the eye. And, well, I like to give the very best.”

Killian blinked, stunned. The President couldn’t be insinuating what he thought he was—could he?

“A night with a Victor covers a lot of ground, both politically and financially. You’re a smart lad; that shouldn’t come as a surprise, should it?”

It didn’t, but that didn’t mean he was any less repulsed. “So you whore out Victors to your benefactors?”

“See, I knew you’d figure it out.”

Eloise, for her part, was looking both sheepish and a bit frightened during their exchange. God, what had she been put through?

“I won’t do it,” Killian said defiantly.

Gold just cackled in reply—a terrifying sound that sent shivers up his spine.

“You have to,” Eloise murmured. “If you don’t, he’ll—he’ll hurt the people you love.” If Killian’s memory served correct, Eloise had a mother and sisters back home; was that how Gold got power over her?

“Then I’m afraid the President’s information is incorrect; I don’t have anyone,” Killian spat out.

“Oh, I have plenty of other ways of making you hurt. It would be a shame if Atlantica’s grain supplies stopped coming in, wouldn’t it? Or if an infestation of dreamshade found its way to, say, Mr. Nemo’s yard?”

That stopped Killian cold; any lingering heat from the previous activities dissipated in an instant. “No,” he breathed. “You wouldn’t.”

“I think you’ll find, Mister Jones, that there’s very little I’m not willing to do.” Gold followed with a sneering, reptilian grin.

This couldn’t be happening. Victory was supposed to be freedom—freedom from the looming threat of the games and all the shadows they’d cast on his life. Not this...slavery.

But he’d been in enough fights in his life, even before the Arena, to know when he was outmatched. Gold’s sneer and Eloise’s resigned expression told him enough.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Gold snorted. “Glad you came around; not like you had much choice. Although,” he started, tapped his fingers on his cane in thought. “That does remind me. I’ve considered expanding this venture to the sponsorship side of things, if you were interested.”

No, he wasn’t, but Killian couldn’t help but be curious. “What would that mean?”

“Sponsorship during the games also brings in quite a bit of revenue. But I’ve always wondered just how much more it could take if there were certain other...perks attached. Would you like to help me test my theory?”

Killian swallowed. “Would I be able to choose the sponsors?”

“To some extent, yes. The ones who can afford it.”

It was the best opportunity Killian was going to have in this. He would be little more than a prostitute, but if he could have any level of choice, he’d be an idiot not to take it. “Alright,” he said, an unconfident agreement.

“It seems we have a deal, then,” Gold replied, almost squealing, then offered Killian his hand, which was gingerly taken. “I’ll give you the full details at the next games. Eloise,” he continued, sharply, “you have another appointment in a half hour. Don’t be late.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows once more, letting the most awkward of silences fall onto the two left.

Killian didn’t know how long they sat there, not moving. At some point, he shivered; whether it was from the sweat cooling on his body or in reaction to the exchange with Gold was up for debate. But that seemed to jolt Eloise, who finally started to move again; Killian slowly joined her.

They faced away from each other as they moved about the room, gathering and putting on their clothes from the random places they’d landed. It was almost easy to act like the other person wasn’t there—until it came time for a Killian to button his shirt.

“Fuck,” he muttered, attempting to do it with his remaining hand—and not having much luck.

“I’ve got it,” Eloise said quietly, and finished pulling up the side zipper on her dress before coming over.

He watched her fingers carefully do up the closures, afraid to make eye contact. He didn’t know what he’d find in her gaze—apology? Remorse? Or worse: nothing? Did it matter? She was a victim in all this, too.

But she spoke up before he could ask. “I’m sorry for luring you here under false pretenses.” That was putting it lightly; he knew she was only doing what she’d been commanded, though. Still, he didn’t respond. “But I just want you to know that you’re the first person I’ve actually wanted to sleep with.”

With that, she did up the last button on his shirt, placed a quick kiss on his cheek, and turned to leave.

He waited for the click of the door closing before he moved again, hoping the brief moment of time would be enough to get his racing thoughts in order. That had been the most confusing, exhilarating, horrifying encounter of his...well, he couldn’t say life, or even week, but definitely that day—and hopefully the last such moment in his life.

He felt used, but by Gold, not Eloise. And he would probably have to get accustomed to that feeling.

He took one more deep breath before putting on his jacket, only wincing slightly when it brushed his bare stump, and left the room; something told him it would be occupied again soon. Hopefully, he looked presentable; all he wanted to do was go back to the plush bed in Atlantica’s quarters, but he knew he’d be expected back in the gala. They’d probably wondered where he’d gone.

The sad, knowing smile on Milah’s face when he snuck back into the room told him, though: she knew exactly where he’d been, and why.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

thanks, as always!!! tagging: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @killian-whump @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes

#cs ff #captain swan rewrite a thon #csrt 2020 #the magic games #(love will see us through these) dark days #my ff

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blacknovelist · 4 years

Text

Half-Empty, Half-Full (FE3H Fic)

hey hi what’s up lads, so I like, 100% forgot I could post my piece for the @threehouseszine Beneath The Banner (also available on Twitter under the same name) and as such I’m like ten years late. :) But the zine has been sent out, and I finally noticed like the fool I am that others have posted their pieces, and thusly, I too will post mine! Because I can. And I want to.

My focus was on the Golden Deer post-skip, specifically in some nebulous point during the war. Being part of this zine was really, really cool -- I can’t wait for all the books and merch to arrive with everyone!

(will reblog with links because we all know tumblr likes to break things.)

A beat of something nice, amid the fragments of harder times.

In the spaces between war — between scattered supply checks and ration distribution, bandit skirmishes and long watch nights — Hilda finds the time she needs to breathe.

It came easier, back in the academy. She could simply step back and let the world move around her, steadfast in her belief that it would still be standing when she returned. Nowadays she steals the air in her lungs from glances at the sky and quick delivery walks, from the chip of chisel and steel against stone and wood, from the sensation of gems and petals inlaid on clothes, chains and hooks when she can afford to lay down her axe. Infrequency makes the beats between battles all the more precious.

With the professor around she can afford more pauses still, but Hilda watches herself. She knows, all too well, just how young she is. Claude lies at one year her junior and the professor, with their five year hiatus, sits at two. It wouldn't do for her stubborn leaders to find someone they can’t believe in among their ranks, now.

She’s on the run for errands when she spots a hint of not-plant green and wood not far off the beaten path, and she wastes no time following that tried and true Deer instinct to take a peek. Ignatz is there, as expected, easel propped on a patch of flat land, what she can see of the canvas a tasteful blend of browns and golds. He leans in, fingers dabbed in the same off-white his paintbrush dusts onto his scene.

Now, Hilda doesn’t paint, but she does understand the stress and struggle of art, different forms aside. Which is why she waits until he leans back before she steps forward and taps his shoulder.

“Hey, Ignatz.”

Ignatz yelps, almost drops his brush and earns himself a stripe on his palm for his troubles. “Hilda! Hi. I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you there.”

“Don't worry about it.” She clasps her hands together. “What’re you painting?"

"I wanted to capture the cathedral, while it's still under repair." He gestures to his piece — the white forms the glint of sunlight off patches of rubble, steel and glass, along with the robes of monks and priests as they shift and sweep aside what debris they can. "A lot of artists depict places in their prime, or utterly destroyed, or after they've been restored to their former glory. I thought it would be nice to show the in-between for once. People from every background imaginable, coming together to rebuild for the future. A little different from what I usually paint, but sometimes a little variety is nice."

"And you're doing it all the way out here because…"

"I didn't want to be in anyone's way, and I come out here a lot. I've got plenty of references with me, so it's not a problem." Ignatz shifts and Hilda catches sight of a stack of sketchbooks, some more worn than others, half-spilled from a bag. The top one gets plucked up and held between them as he flips from page to page. Statue busts, the altar and rows of pews among pillars rendered in charcoal and sleek pigment lines. Sometimes, she catches glimpses of green and blue and other colors, or shapes that don't quite match the church art he focuses on, but Ignatz flips too fast for her to see.

Or, almost. "Go back two pages," Hilda says. A grin tugs at her lips. "Was that Claude?"

"Oh! Uh, yes." Though Ignatz learned to leave embarrassment and nerves about his art behind, something in his chest still squirms, just a bit. An image of their leader in the library, face cast in candlelight and more at peace than he ever is during daylight, stares up at the duo. "It's easier when I’m with a person, but sometimes I'll do studies on my own. Practice makes perfect, after all."

"It's beautiful." She reaches out, pauses. "May I…?"

He passes it over. "Here. You can look at the others, too. I don't mind." Then he turns back to the easel and reaches for his paint. "Anyway, I thought this was as good a spot to work as any. There's a field down that way you can see best in the spring, and I like the view of everything from here."

"You'll have to show me when it's in season."

Her eyes flicker over thick paper. Statues. Flowers, trees, forest paths. Distance shots of people, strolling towards town. Swirls of filigree and patterns fill whole pages in patches, tiny stylized animals and the occasional dragon tucked into the empty space. Silhouettes crowd around the pews, and even if she recognizes clothes, many of these smaller figures are faceless.

But she finds a loose sketch, hair popping blond against black ink, of Raphael and a young girl with the same square jaw and broad shoulders. Claude himself appears once more, this time in wireframe form, ordinary steel bow drawn all the way back and arrow pointed to the left. When she plucks one of his other books from the stack it follows a similar trend — renderings of the cathedral, inside and out, stuck in among horse-drawn carriages and sunlit grass patches and clothes and people, both familiar and unfamiliar, faceless and defined. A few drawings are from the past few months: Sylvain in his armor, Baltie with his open-chested shirt, Leonie and her long hair, the monastery scaffolding.

Most of his drawings are from the academy days.

Lindhardt, leaned against a tree, the shadow of leaves mottled on his lap. Herself and Marianne seated in the dining hall. Lysithea, with a book in one hand and a swirl of magic in the other. Claude and Lorenz mid-argument. Felix as he trains blade blurred and bent as he lunges. Dimitri and Dedue bent over a table in their classroom. Edelgard as she strides across the courtyard, Hubert one step behind. Busts of the professor and Jeralt, side by side, the faintest quirk in their lips.

Hilda looks up and pauses. Ignatz presses so close to the canvas he’s peering over the wire frames of his glasses rather than through, brow furrowed and jaw set. She shuts an eye as the sun slips out from behind what’s left of Garreg Mach’s spires. Greyscale flowers peer up from the pages, a reflection of the few asters scattered around their feet. Mountain monastery air goes down sweet and full in her lungs.

"I gotta say, Ignatz,” she says, the edge of her thumb smudged in stray charcoal. "These are amazing. How long have you been doing art?"

"Since I was little." He leans back, considers his work, then leans in again. "My parents are merchants, so we delivered paintings and statuettes to a lot of noble houses in the Alliance. One day I found some extra supplies lying around so I just… picked it up and gave it a shot."

"Well, I'm glad you did. Even these plain sketches look much nicer than anything I could do, and don't even get me started on painting. No offense, Ignatz, but no thank you. Definitely not my wheelhouse."

Ignatz pauses. "None taken, and thank you. You draw?”

"Not much." She waves a hand. "My talents lie in accessories. I like to plan before I start working, figure out how it should come together and doodle in the margins a little sometimes, that's all."

"You're always wearing beautiful jewelry, but I didn't realize you made them yourself." A smile breaks out across his face. "That's amazing, Hilda!"

A blush rolls across her cheeks and she can't stop the tug of her lips into a matching grin. "Oh, stop it. Really?"

"Of course! The colors and shapes you use match your hair, complexion, and the clothes you tend to wear quite beautifully." His brush plunges into a cup of water by the foot of his easel and faces her fully. "When did you start?"

"A long time ago, now – I'm not even sure exactly how long, anymore. I used to make flower crowns and necklaces with my big brother, and it just spun out from there." The book lies closed in her hands now. Her finger runs up and down the paper, feels the grooves between unaligned pages. "I could make them as pretty or ugly as I wanted, so long as I was happy in the end. No one ever expected anything more or less. Not that I ever made something ugly, mind you."

Ignatz hummed. "Have you ever considered selling them?"

"Not really.” Hilda tilts her head. “Do you think it'd be a good idea?"

"Absolutely! You should consider it, once the war is over. I bet people would love them."

She taps her chin. “I’ll give it some thought. What about you, Ignatz? What do you plan on doing once this whole mess is behind us?”

“Well… Ideally, I’ll keep painting,” he says. “Even if I have to do it between my duties as a knight. It might make it hard to find a household to serve, but I don’t want to just stop.”

“Why are you aiming to be a knight? How come you’re not just going off to be an artist or something like you want to?”

“My parents sent me to the academy since my brother’s taking over the business. They didn’t really approve of the whole artist thing.” Ignatz shrugs. “I don’t really think I’m all that cut out for it, to be honest. Fighting’s never been my strong suit.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Hilda says. “Have you ever spoken to them about it?”

He shook his head. "Not much recently, at least."

“You should. Maybe you can convince them, after all this. And if you can’t, then just come to House Goneril, okay? I’ll let you paint as much as you want.”

“That would be nice.” He smiles, then bends to reach for his bag. “Thank you, Hilda.”

“Any time.” She holds the sketchbook out. Ignatz takes it, tucks it gently alongside the others. Before he can put his brush away, he pauses.

“If you have time,” he starts. "Would you like to join me out here again tomorrow? We could work on our projects together, if you have any."

Hilda smiles. "I'd love to, but I'm on stock duty tomorrow. No shuffling off the responsibility for that."

"I see. That's too bad. Maybe next time?"

"... Sure. I'd like that."

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #FE3H #FE3h Fic #FE3H Zine #Beneath The Banner zine #Blacknovelist Writes #long post #(in case readmore breaks tho it shouldn't really)

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nyandereneko · 4 years

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More DTB stuff because I said I was gonna make separate posts to catalog all the chaos. I kind of have to lol my endless stream of thoughts is nightmarishly long but that’s okay that’s what readmores are for >:3c

So I had a galaxy brain cosplay idea that devolved into pining chaos...here we go

Kiko and Nova HAVE to cosplay Cyan and Rosia from Sh0w by Rock at some point, that duo fits them so perfectly (at least appearance wise) because those characters fall in line with their general appearance and color schemes...Kiko may be showing more skin (and being extra clingy to fake bf as a result) but Nova shows up and hits Hei like a freight train

Regardless of if this goes down before or after she gets her other dress it still just doesn’t seem to have the same kind of ~vibe~ you know???

Oh yeah I decided DTB!Nova is just going to be JSHK/HH!Nova because she already has the sparkly hair and the dress she usually wears would actually fit in pretty well with the aesthetic of the group, imo...she claims that it helps her blend in more like a Doll, although that doesn’t really matter, she just decides to wear it because she likes it lmfao (art by @/impendingexodus and @/emberchii!) This outfit utilizes the full stockings in every verse now because I realized I prefer that.

But in the context of that dress that she wears kind of like a uniform, Hei usually doesn’t bat an eye nearly as much but for some reason seeing her dressed up like this specifically...oof

He also definitely teases her about her accessories when she takes them off for a breather (for her “natural” cat traits lol) I figure something like this would take place after Hei and Nova are working together but before they’ve admitted any feelings. Hence why Kiko would still be posing as gf lol.

ALTHOUGH, another idea has been growing on me that Hei straight up tells Kiko as much as he appreciates her company and thinks she’s nice he’s not really in the market for a serious relationship right now...and she’s actually fine with it and it doesn’t take Kiko too much longer after they’ve settled on their little arrangement to realize that Nova likes Hei and Hei maybe even likes Nova too. Kiko backs off but doesn’t entirely nix their “dating” situation because she doesn’t want to make Nova feel bad after all she did to help Kiko snag this man...plus Kiko can tell Nova’s obviously shaken up/in denial about her feelings for this fool but she basically just starts treating Hei platonically, like he’s some sort of confidant and support for her (which I actually think could be pretty sweet)

She also lowkey decides to act like a matchmaker for him and Nova...basically she’s still over the top and maybe even a little touchy feely/clingy but she doesn’t pursue him in an overtly romantic fashion. And she lets him perform whatever the socially acceptable “duties” of a bf are, like sometimes they hold hands in public and things along those lines, but they don’t regularly do much more than that

It ends up devolving into shit like Kiko inviting them both to hang out somewhere but once they arrive she messages that she has to bow out but she still thinks they should enjoy the outing together, maybe eventually even going so far as to set them up on a blind date or something >:3cccc how devious

Stemming from that, I thought of a scenario where loser squad “infiltrates” a con or con related outing because a criminal Contractor is supposed to be there and of course the loser squad can blend in easy as hell (well, I guess both loser squad AND the Contractor can fnjjsbddkjf)

But they do the thing (with Kiko and some of her friends tagging along of course, it wouldn’t be a convincing plan without them) and Nova and Hei periodically slip away to discuss plans/strategy/how things are going and shit but at some point they almost get caught/wherever they’re discussing this stuff someone happens to be Approaching so they shove themselves in the closest available hiding place but :3c these bitches packed in like a sardine can...and after the anxiety of “oh shit we’re about to be compromised” and the stranger seems to have finally left the vicinity they both proceed to have awkwardly fueled panic attacks

Nova starts trying to force her way out of their hiding spot (she really does have claustrophobia, but since she was stuck in there with someone who she felt could get her out if it was an emergency, she wasn’t as immediately overwhelmed by it) and Hei just tries to keep her from making a huge commotion and luring whoever that person was to come back

They do both manage to get out, of course, I mean they weren’t really “stuck” they just got shoved in a cramped closet or something for like 5 minutes and now they can’t think straight fjskfnddh. Oh well back to the task at hand right :^) sorry I’m absolutely obsessed with situations like this

Accidentally tripping and catching/falling over each other, putting faces really close to each other without necessarily meaning to, getting pinned/locked in a cramped space together...sign me tf UP bro this is my SHIT

AND LOOK I know I could solve 99% of my awkward situation scenarios by having Nova just turn into a cat that can fit anywhere, and maybe after she gets some more experience with these types of situations she starts to learn and default to methods like that

But assuming she doesn’t have any experience with stuff like this (because she doesn’t lol) it’s not her immediate response to change forms for her own safety, and I like to think she has a hard time accessing that specific power when she’s panicked/stressed...like it requires a certain amount of mental clarity and concentration to change forms and if she’s freaking out she can’t concentrate long enough to safely and successfully transform...plus I just want to play with the tension ok give me a break

#ck.txt #star crossed #don't mind me i'm still losing my mind just like i have been every other day about this stuff fielsfjkels #ck's headcanons #ck's scenarios

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Thirty-One: An Accessory ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura ] [ SasuHina, NaruSaku ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

When it comes to her appearance, Hinata has always stuck to the basics. Never has she been the sort of girl to dress up or look flashy. If anything, she’s more comfortable and content to blend into the background. Whether it’s her no-effort hair (unless she gets a wild hare to put it up in a ponytail), baggy clothes (she’s not keen on being too straightforward given her body shape), or her lack of accessories, she simply keeps herself low-maintenance.

In a way, she envies the other girls her age. Ino has always been so fashion conscious. With hardly any effort, she can put together an ensemble that sweeps people off their feet. Glamor without going overboard. Even her hair is more lustrous than Hinata’s own: the long golden tail is far more eye-catching than Hinata’s plain dark locks. Sakura’s choppy, rosy strands get more attention despite their lack of upkeep, too.

Sometimes, she wishes she could be pretty. Be out there. But between her self-conscious nature, and shyness at being noticed, she’s not sure she could ever actually handle putting any more effort into her appearance. The dual feelings of wanting attention and yet being leery of it can be rather...depressing.

But, in the end, she keeps to her typical habits. She’s been this way all her life, after all. Why change? It’s not like there’s anyone she wants to attract, anyway. Naruto, after all, has always set his gaze elsewhere...and her actions never swayed that. Not enough, at least. Already it’s evident he and his female teammate are romantically involved...even if neither has the heart to tell her.

She remembers the rosette offering the possibility of seeking companionship with her own teammates: Kiba, or maybe Shino. And yet, that idea wrinkled the Hyūga’s nose. For quite some time, the pair have been far more like family...like older brothers that both tease and bolster her, snapping at anyone who gives her trouble. She’s not sure she could ever set that aside and attempt to have something...more with either of them. It just wouldn’t feel right.

Beyond that...she really has no clue.

But Fate has different ideas...and starts placing someone specific in front of her.

It started with the whole of team seven. Sasuke, newly returned for his brother’s reappearance, begrudgingly spent time with them...even if that meant mostly being a third wheel as Naruto and Sakura get a bit involved with one another’s company.

And given her friendship with the pair, that often left Hinata as wheel number four. At first, she thought little of it. Having been made privy to Sasuke’s circumstances due to mutual acquaintances, she already knew much of what had transpired in his past...and how it still affected his present. In the same vein, she was one of the few able to understand...and willing to move on. True, the pair had been relative strangers before he left, but if anything that served in her favor. Sasuke held no ill will against her. They had a fresh slate from which to start.

And then came the alliance with the Hyūga. As Itachi’s future hung in the balance with his prior convictions held over his head, it was the other dōjutsu clan that was called for help. But her bloodline have always been shrewd...and then arranged for an alliance. Sasuke had rebelled against the idea, but eventually acquiesced at Itachi’s urging.

Thus, Hinata and Sasuke seemed almost unable to get away from each other. She served as the liaison between the two clans...mostly because it was she the Uchiha knew (and tolerated) best.

With that, Hinata conceded, and accepted that she and Sasuke were simply apt to bump into each other more often than not.

Like today, for example.

Yet again, Naruto and Sakura have invited them both out for a day of catching up. Naruto has been busy learning under both Tsunade and Kakashi. Sakura has been gearing up to take a leading position in the hospital. Hinata’s work with her clan and the Uchiha has kept her busy, as it has Sasuke. So the four have had little time left over to simply spend together.

So, they’ve taken to wandering an outdoor market. The weather is fine, not too hot yet, and they peruse the goods alongside a small crowd of people. The more boisterous pair are at the front, Sakura openly ogling as Naruto looks sadly to his frog wallet. Behind them, the others aren’t really as interested, mostly just taking in the sights. Sasuke isn’t one much for stuff, and Hinata’s frugal habits mean avoiding most anything not terribly necessary.

“Ooh, Hinata! Look at this!”

Attention caught as Sakura waves her over, Hinata steps up and takes a peek.

“Isn’t it beautiful? It looks just your style!”

An ornate hair clip - silver adorned with white doves - rests atop a small stand, gleaming in the light. Hinata’s eyes go a little wide. It is extremely pretty...and also very expensive. “Oh, well...I-I’ve never really worn hair a clip before…”

“Don’t you have that dove print kimono? You could wear it to the matsuri next month! It would be so perfect, Hinata! Don’t you think?”

“W-well, I…”

“You should get it.”

At once, all three of the others turn to look at Sasuke. Blank-faced, he looks back. “...what?”

“Didn’t think you’d have an opinion about hair clips, Sasuke,” Naruto muses, a brow perking.

“Am I not allowed to?”

“Well, no, but…”

“I-I’m not sure if I should spend the money,” Hinata quickly cuts in, not wanting to spark one of the boys’ many arguments. “It is very pretty, but...I don’t really need it.”

“Aww, boo,” Sakura replies, lips pursing in a pout. “It would go so well with that outfit!”

“Yeah, well...m-maybe next time.”

With that, Sakura shrugs and moves to the next booth, Naruto right on her tail. Hinata can’t help a small sigh of relief.

“...do you like it?”

“Eh?” Turning as Sasuke speaks, Hinata blinks at him. “W...what?”

“The hair clip. Do you like it?”

“Well, I...I guess I do, but -”

“I could get it for you.”

Flustered color quickly blooms in Hinata’s face. “Oh, n-no! Sasuke-kun, please don’t. It’s so expensive, and -”

“But you want it.”

“I...I said I like it, not that...I want it.”

The Uchiha perks a brow. “...what’s the difference?”

“Well...I can like something but not want to get it. I don’t, um...I don’t really wear hair clips, anyway. I wouldn’t use it enough to justify the cost.”

That doesn’t seem to clarify much for him, but Sasuke doesn’t push the issue. “...all right then.” With that said, he keeps walking, Hinata following suit...with just one last little backward glance to the clip.

No, Hinata...you don’t need it. Leave it alone.

By the end of the day, it completely slips her mind. There’s far more important things to worry about, after all. Embroiled back into her work, she forgets about the little exchange entirely, and life goes on.

And then, the matsuri arrives.

As per usual, the four of them agree to go together. By then, it’s long since been accepted (and explained) that Naruto and Sakura are, indeed, an official couple. Though a bit somber about it at first, Hinata quickly finds herself glad for them. Happy that Naruto’s affections are finally returned, and that her friends have someone to rely on.

Though it does make for the typical arrangement of Hinata and Sasuke feeling more like tagalongs than part of a group…

Sighing lightly to herself, Hinata brushes back hair behind her ear as they wait in line at a food stall. Naruto is having difficulty choosing, which is holding up the queue.

“...Hyūga.”

“Hm?” Turning, she startles a bit as Sasuke holds out a piece of folded cloth. “...um -?”

“Here.”

Blinking, she accepts, feeling something within the fabric. A few tugs later, she brightens. “...Sasuke-kun, you…?”

“I knew you wanted it, so I got it. Figured I’d just make it a matsuri present.”

Going a bit pink, Hinata carefully retrieves the dove clip. “...you didn’t have to do that…”

“I wanted to.”

Moving to use it, Hinata fumbles for a moment before stilling as he urges it from her hand, able to see what he’s doing. Carefully, he pins back her hair. “...there. It really does match your kimono.”

Still pink, her head bows shyly. “...thank you…”

“...you’re welcome.”

When the other two are finally finished in line, Sakura quickly notices the change. “Oh, you got it?”

“Um, well…actually, I -”

“Looks good,” Sasuke offers, cutting off her explanation.

After a pause, she realizes his intention. “...thanks.”

“You should wear your hair like that more often, Hinata,” Naruto offers, mouth full of food.

A small smile pulls at her lips. “...maybe I will.”

.oOo.

I won’t lie...this one took some thinking, lol - neither Hinata nor Sasuke really seem the sort to indulge in accessories, but...well, maybe they would if the other gets something for them x3 Sneaky Sasuke, picking up that clip...! Pretty smooth there, guy...even if maybe he doesn’t quite fully realize what he just did, haha! Buuut yeah, that’ll do it from me tonight! Thanks for reading n_n

#sasuhina #narusaku #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uzumaki naruto #haruno sakura #a light amongst shadows [ canon verse ]#365daysofsasuhina

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disastertealeaf · 6 years

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mighty nein fashion sense: modern au [updated]

based on this old post!

fjord:

probably dresses up like trucker ngl (but not really.)

probably looks like he buys clothes from american eagle and only ae

bought all the clothes in the closet knowing that all of them will match

that being said, he loves to layer his clothes

see him in a lot of flannel and denim with plain t-shirts

tan pants? better than he thought

hes probably got loafers or some kind of practical work shoe

summertime? hes takin out the short sleeve button up shirts. no one will stop him

ironically owns a hawaiian shirt

looks GREAT in a suit and he knows it

lady-killer

a pretty boy

caleb:

ever seen a college disaster in the winter?? that’s caleb

his clothes are old, and theyre never really out of style because he tries to buy clothes like that (hes a man of classic apparel)

kind of guy to have a set of monochrome t-shirts that he uses a lot because he cant be bothered to do clothes shopping

the black ones have faded a lot

TURTLENECKS

scarves

slacks!!! and classic belts. ge discovered that it’s easier to clean up a look with minimal effort.

has a leather bomber with the same interior as his coat in canon. it is used almost everyday

if he ever needs to look scholarly hes got it covered but its only one set of clothes and he doesnt really like it because he hasnt bought a new one in a while

the scholarly look is actually just a sweatervest with a button-up shirt and maybe a tie? with leather wingtips

style over comfort to the max (he cannot find it in himself to try everyday when he has more important things to focus on)

mollymauk:

hes fashionable. end of story

hes got slacks in so many colors and patterns.

hes got so many patterned buttonups that he will never fully button (probably just buttons up to his navel and quits)

he probably dresses up in different eras every day

HIGH WAISTED SHORT SHORTS WITH FISHNETS

he does not give a Shit about what society thinks is “feminine” or “masculine”. he will do whatever the fuck he wants to

definitely wears skirts for this reason

he loves to experiment with clothes….. he has so many

probably has one of every type of shoe to try and match his outfits

jewelry is a must!! probably has bought a lot of clip on earrings or has a lot of ear piercings. or just accessories in general. he loves bein flashy

knee high boots are still a thing but shhh those are for very special nights out in town (which is every night in his opinion. just let him live)

if hes trying to be discreet catch him in a burgundy peacoat

beauregard:

shes got the gym look down

basically only owns clothes in her dnd color palette

greenish blue windbreakers on chilly days

workout leggings and sweatpants ALMOST ALL THE TIME not that anyone is complaining

shes got a few pairs of destroyed denim jeans and shorts and they look really good

she just feels like the pants are restricting because she needs to be ready to Throw Down

sleeveless shirts! big arm cutouts! tank tops! racerbacks! all of them have graphic designs

probably just goes out in a sports bra and a hoodie if shes really not feeling it

sunglasses. she looks so good in them.

shes got a pantsuit hidden deep deep DEEP in her closet for special occasions (would rather not wear it)

jester:

skirts!!!! dresses!! yes!! a lot of a line dresses and skirts

shes got a closet of pastel because she looks good in every shade

probably loves knee high socks

shes got those small backpacks in pastel pink she will not leave her house without it

really loves floral designs imo

hot take: she is into embroidery and loves making her own style out of ordinary clothes

high waisted denim shorts WITH FISHNETS. molly roped her into it and she loves it

u know those shirts that button up but u can tie them in the front?? she likes those a lot

off the shoulder shirts too

oversized things!! hit her with an oversized sweater or sweatshirt on a casual day or a lazy day (please take care of it fjord we beg u)

loves loves loves!!! designing her own shoes

she likes to buy paint sets and go to town on some plain shoes and give it her own artistic touch OR she will embroider it

always about her most recent obsession

catch her with some tusk love themed shoes

hair accessories!! lots of bows and headbands

yasha:

practical attire!! if the apocalypse came today, she would be ready

cargo pants (shes got 50 pockets or something)

i can see her owning a lot of heavy jackets (perhaps a parka?)

combat boots are a must. or sneakers but u know combat boots make her looks cleaner

plain t shirts or tank tops (really complements her arms)

monochrome at almost all times or navy blue

will occasionally just come out in gym attire. leggings and a tank top ?? yes PLEASE

probably a former goth u can find her stuff in a storage bin in her garage or something (molly always tries to find it)

probably has a holster bag on top of her many pockets

nott:

master of nondescript clothes

earthy colors are her favorite

discovered that people wear masks in other countries and she hasnt gone back since

plain hoodies!! bomber jackets!! she likes them

sweatpants with those cuffs at the bottom!

tbh she doesnt have too many demands when shes getting clothes…. they just cant be expensive or flashy because she’d rather blend in

loves goodwill. that is probably the only store she goes to for clothes because she is Frugal

she wears converses that are Pretty Old but she takes care of them so they last a while

i want to believe that she hides a fanny pack under her jacket to conceal stolen goods

caduceus:

his clothes are the most true to canon

he does not own one silk shirt. he owns enough to last him a month. he also has a lot of cotton shirts

mainly in floral designs or solid earthy tones + various shades of forest green

slacks in that deep green he always wears

bluchers or open laced dress shoes! or his boots from canon

he accents all of his outfits with some kind of leather (usually its on his belt, but he has bracelets and other accessories to make it work too)

he knows how to use a monochrome green palette perfectly

he looks business casual half of the time

if hes going casual, it’s camo time.

heavy army green jacket with patches that jester made + any v-neck t-shirt he owns

if hes really not feeling it on a particular day, he will wear harem pants and a fruit of the loom shirt that he stuffed into a drawer in his wardrobe

his style is the softest in the nein in terms of his usual everyday wear

#critical role #cr #the mighty nein #mollymauk tealeaf #fjord #caleb widogast #jester #beauregard #caduceus clay #yasha #nott the brave #modern au #I SHOULD HAVE DONE THIS MONTHS AGO #so here it is #everyone has more stuff!!#i edited the other one but i made more tweaks to this version

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sugarandspace · 6 years

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Day 31 - Free Day (Halloween) (AO3)

Alec stepped into Magnus’ loft to find no hint of his boyfriend. They were supposed to go on a date to an outdoor Halloween themed event, and they had agreed to meet here at six o’clock. Alec checked his phone to make sure he was in time, and saw that it was only a few minutes before six.

“Magnus?” Alec called as he walked further into the loft.

“In the bedroom,” came the muffled reply.

Alec followed the sound to the bedroom, stopping at the door when he saw his boyfriend in front of the full body mirror doing what appeared to be finishing touches to his costume.

Costume that threw Alec off more than any other costume probably could have.

Magnus was wearing a dark purple button up shirt, tucked into his black pants. The shirt had some sort of silver decorations on it, subtle until the light caught them. He wore matching silver necklaces, hanging low on his chest. The clothes weren’t anything out of the ordinary, but there were two things that Alec hadn’t expected to see.

Magnus was tying the strings of a long velvet cloak, black as night, the end of it almost touching the floor. The cloak was dramatic and gave off a mysterious vibe, which was hindered a bit by what Magnus was wearing on his head.

A pointy hat with a wide trim.

Alec didn’t know what to say, standing at the doorway with his mouth slightly open, looking at the unexpected sight.

“What do you say?” Magnus asked, turning around to face Alec so that Alec had a proper look at his face that was previously covered by the wide trim of the hat. His eyes were lined with black, a hint of silver sparkling amongst the makeup as well. Most of his hair was hidden under the hat, a few strands hanging over his forehead - purple streaks highlighting the usual black.

“You’re dressed as a… Warlock?” Alec asked.

“Yes,” Magnus said, doing a little spin which caused his cloak to flare around him. He looked proud of his costume. “I mean what would be more fitting?”

“I guess you have a point,” Alec agreed, his surprise melting to amusement.

“You’re not wearing a costume,” Magnus noted, his brow furrowing a little as he took in Alec’s black jeans and a jacket.

“It’s not really my thing,” Alec said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve never dressed up for Halloween.”

“Never?” Magnus asked, shocked by Alec’s confession.

“I mean it’s not a popular thing amongst Shadowhunters,” Alec explained. “Some go to mundane or Downworlder parties but you know that those aren’t my thing.”

“We have to fix this!” Magnus exclaimed and moved Alec so that he was standing in front of the tall mirror, Magnus standing next to him, a thoughtful look on his face. “What do you want to dress up as?”

“You don’t have to-” Alec started but Magnus interrupted him quickly.

“Nonsense,” he dismissed and continued quickly. “We could do a couple costume?”

Magnus moved his hands in the air, the normally graceful act of doing magic looking somewhat comical when combined with his accessories. Alec was so focused on Magnus’ movements he almost missed what he was doing.

Almost. Because the as soon as he turned his attention back to his own reflection, he couldn’t ignore the two big cat ears on top of his head.

“No.” He said immediately, shaking his head.

“C’mon Alexander,” Magnus said, clearly amused. “You could ride on my broom.”

“Take them off,” Alec demanded, finding the situation more humiliating than amusing.

Magnus seemed to sense that, since he snapped his fingers and the ears were gone.

“Thank you,” Alec breathed.

“Oh no, don’t thank me yet,” Magnus said. “We need to figure out a costume that would fit you better. Oh, now I know!”

Alec was almost scared to look in the mirror, but he did nevertheless. He watched as his clothes turned all white, wondering what Magnus was up to. It wasn’t until he saw two tall wings sprouting from his back that he realised what he was supposed to be.

“An angel,” Alec said, looking less than impressed while Magnus was grinning next to him. “Really?”

“What would be more fitting, my angel?” Magnus asked. “Me going as a warlock and you going as an angel. Both are such clever costumes, don’t you think?”

Alec just shook his head in response.

“Just out of curiosity,” Magnus asked as he turned Alec’s clothes back to normal and made the wings disappear. “Which bothered you more, the wings or not wearing anything black?”

Alec rolled his eyes but smiled, unable to keep a straight face. “Can we just go already?”

“I’m not leaving until you have some sort of a costume,” Magnus said. “At least something. You want it to be simple, right? Something that doesn't’ attract much attention?”

“Yes,” Alec agreed, because he knew that it was pointless to fight Magnus in this. There was no way he was going to be able to leave this loft without being somewhat dressed for the occasion.

Magnus looked thoughtful for a moment until he seemed to get an idea.

“Sit down,” he said and pushed Alec backwards until the backs of his legs hit the bed behind him. He did as he was told and sat down on the soft bed, watching as Magnus disappeared into the bathroom.

Alec didn’t know what to expect but he was surprised when he saw Magnus returning a moment later with a colorful palette and a large bag.

“Oh no no no,” he said as he watched Magnus sit down next to him and lay the different types of makeup on the bed between them. “I don’t want makeup.”

“Do you trust me?” Was all Magnus asked, and Alec thought about it for a moment. Wearing makeup seemed ridiculous. On Magnus it looked gorgeous, but even though Alec had never tried it before, he just knew he would look stupid. But on the other hand, Magnus hadn’t made him wear the costumes he didn’t like, so there was no harm in giving it a go. It seemed like it would make Magnus happy, if the pleading look in his eyes was anything to go by, and Alec was confident he would take it away if Alec didn’t like it. So with a final deep breath he nodded.

“Okay.”

“Close your eyes,” Magnus said, smiling encouragingly. “And don’t open them before I say so. I don’t want you to see it before it’s done.”

Alec nodded, closing his eyes. He tried to imagine what he looked like, but found himself unable to visualize what kind of marks the different swipes and pokes left behind. In the end he gave up, deciding to just focus on Magnus’ gentle touches on his face.

“All done,” Magnus said eventually, when Alec was starting to feel like he could fall asleep then and there. Carefully he opened his eyes, facing Magnus who looked at him with obvious interest in his eyes, curious to see Alec’s reaction.

Alec turned his head to face the mirror, and what he saw made him stand up and walk closer to the mirror to be able to examine it closer. He knew Magnus was good with makeup, his face proving that nearly every single day, but to actually witness him do it - with absolutely no magic - made Alec appreciate the skill a lot more. This was art.

“What do you think?” Magnus asked, a hint of nerves in his voice.

Alec looked at his face, at the small shadows on his cheeks making his cheekbones look sharper, similar shadows around his eyes making them look sunken. His face looked almost skeletal, but it was done with subtle makeup, far from a full face paint. The black made his face look even paler, his black hair and clothes and the rune on his neck a perfect contrast.

“It looks so cool,” he found himself saying, looking briefly at Magnus’ proud face before finding his eyes drawn back to the mirror.

“You’ll go out wearing that?” Magnus asked, his tone hopeful.

Alec thought for a moment before he responded. “Fine.”

The event was packed with people. It was a fair like event with a lot of little stands, all offering Halloween themed food or games or trinkets. Alec thought he would have felt more out of place since he was wearing makeup out in public, but he felt like he blended in with the odd looking crowd. He was used to people looking at them when he was out with Magnus, but it felt odd to have some of those looks aimed at himself specifically.

Alec wondered briefly if Jace had mentioned anything about taking Clary here, or if they were going to see Izzy and Simon - until he decided that he’d cross that bridge if he got to it. He was too happy to care, walking around the brightly lit fair with his hand in Magnus’, the air filled with easy conversation.

They were sitting on a bench sharing a candy apple Magnus had insisted Alec gave a try when a small girl stopped in front of them. The girl couldn’t be much older than Madzie, and she was dressed into a bright pink princess dress, her dark curls topped with a crown.

“Well hello there your majesty,” Magnus greeted the girl and bowed his head, making Alec smile and the child giggle. “Where are your parents?”

“Right there,” the girl pointed at a couple that was standing ten feet from them talking to some other couple. “They are talking about boring adult stuff.”

“Ah, adults do that sometimes,” Magnus nodded seriously.

“I like your hat,” she told Magnus before looking at Alec. “You look scary.”

Alec didn’t know how to respond, feeling bad for scaring the kid. But he didn’t have to, because Magnus replied to the girl.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, little one.” He said. “He’s really the kindest skeleton I’ve ever met.”

“He looks good scary,” the girl replied and looked at Alec again. “Halloween is a scary day. Your face looks really cool.”

“Thank you,” Alec replied and smiled at the girl’s compliment.

“Can you do magic tricks?” The girl asked Magnus, her attention back on him. Alec bit the inside of his cheek trying to suppress a smile, wondering what Magnus was going to answer.

“Well of course I can,” Magnus said, and really, did Alec expect anything less. “I am a warlock after all.”

“Show me!” The girl asked practically bouncing where she stood.

“Hmm,” Magnus thought for a moment until he handed the candy apple to Alec. He reached his hand forward, behind the girl's ear as he said, “Abracadabra.”

Alec watched the blue sparks glow as Magnus conjured a small red rose behind the girls head, retracting his hand and showing the flower to the girl.

“Looks like you have flowers in your hair,” Magnus said as he gave the rose to the girl who looked at it in awe.

“Sophie, you can’t just wander off like that!” A woman’s voice said from behind her, her worried looking mother appearing next to the girl, her father in tow.

“I’m sorry if she bothered you,” the father said, looking at both Magnus and Alec.

“Not at all,” Alec assured the man and Magnus nodded next to him.

“It was an honor to meet a real princess.”

“And he’s a real warlock!” The girl told her parents excitedly. “He did real magic!”

“Is that so?” Her mother asked her, looking at Magnus and Alec. “Again, we are sorry, and we hope you have a good rest of your night.”

“You too,” Magnus replied and they nodded at the small family, watching as they walked away while the girl explained the trick to her parents, gesturing animatedly and showing them the bright red rose.

“I never thought that I would be saying this,” Alec started, turning his attention back to Magnus. “But that was cute, watching you perform magic to that girl.”

“Look at you, praising me for breaking the rules,” Magnus teased, bumping his shoulder to Alec’s.

Alec shrugged his shoulders. “Weirder things have happened tonight.”

“True,” Magnus said as he stood up, giving his hand to Alec as they continued walking through the fair. “I’m surprised you agreed to wear the makeup.”

Alec ate the rest of the apple and threw the stick to the bin they walked past while figuring out how to phrase his thoughts.

“It’s new,” he started. “I’ve never done anything for Halloween and I’ve never tried makeup. I still don’t think that it’s really my thing, but it was fun to try it tonight. And I quite like Halloween, I’ll let you drag me into another event next year.”

“Are you going to wear a costume?” Magnus asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“Maybe,” Alec replied teasingly. “Are you going to dress up as a warlock again?”

“I don’t think so,” Magnus said. “It’s boring to repeat a costume two years in a row. I have to wait and see what feels right. This costume was something I knew I needed to wear this year, for nostalgic reasons.”

“What were those reasons?” Alec asked curiously.

“We used to do this with Ragnor back when people first started celebrating halloween like this,” Magnus explained, gesturing the people around them in various kind of costumes. “We thought it was funny, a twisted kind of irony when we had to dress so unlike we usually do to be able to be ourselves amongst the people.”

Alec didn’t miss the way Magnus’ shoulders dropped when he mentioned his old friend, but a small smile remained on his face - a sad smile but a smile nonetheless. He didn’t know what to say so he settled for holding Magnus’ hand a bit tighter, and walking a bit closer. Magnus continued talking, his posture straightening slightly.

“That’s so great about Halloween,” he said. “People can be whoever they want to be and express themselves in a way they usually can't. For some it means they can be more like themselves.”

Alec thought about the statement, and found himself thinking that a man he was a year ago wouldn’t have worn makeup to such a public place, he wouldn’t have let anyone apply it to his face in any situation. Compared to year ago, he had grown more open, and the way he looked right now was a great example of that. He’d learnt so much and let go of so much he had been taught. He was letting more of himself show to the people around him, and while he wouldn’t exactly call wearing makeup ‘being more like himself’ he would describe his willingness to try new things, his open mindedness, and his ability to not care about what others thought about him with those words.

“I think I get it.”

“I knew you were going to like Halloween,” Magnus said smugly. “I already have so many good ideas for what we can dress up as next year.”

By the angel, this Halloween wasn’t even over yet and Magnus was already planning next year. Alec wondered if he’d still like the idea of Halloween a year from now, and feared what costumes he would have to go through before that.

But for now he rolled his eyes and laughed, deciding to focus on the moment and the date they were having.

The rest of my Flufftober works can be found here!

#malec #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #magnus bane #shfanficnexus #jenna writes flufftober #i did it!!!#oh my god i did it

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