#and refuses to elaborate on any of the actually scary parts in a way that isnt an exposition dump. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukifoof · 1 year

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Can you elaborate on your interpretation of Flowey's ability to SAVE as a metaphor for trauma?

hi meant to answer this when u first sent it But things were busy and i also have So Many Thoughts SO prepare for my flowey rambling!! i might go a little more into depth about grief and the specific kind of grief flowey has so just be cautious if thats triggering at all

anyway the thing that stands out about saving to me most is that it's linked to control. the person saving has the choice to go back, or repeat everything however many times they like, or just move on and let things play out. flowey himself mentions he knows that power, that was the power we were trying to stop-- when given that sense of control people are bound to uhhh Not Have A Great Time! and it really reminds me of what ptsd and survivors guilt is like to deal with; the idea that somehow you could have stopped it or that only if you did this certain thing you could have saved someone or yourself so much trouble. flowey's ability to sa ve is grown from this belief that if only he made the right choice everything would have been fine, and a need for control for when he might have to make such a decision again in the future

he even says himself that he could have stopped whenever! just let everything go on. but he can't, at least he can't emotionally take something like that. flowey can't move on because of his need for control and stability in a world where he's trapped himself. it's like... a lot of times people who are in a bad state of mind subconsciously don't want to get better, because they're used to feeling the way they are. it's scary to move on and change because sometimes feeling so sad all the time feels like it Must be You, and then who are you if you're happy? there's also flowey's guilt, where he's probably questioning if he even has the right to be happy if chara is gone. especially when he clearly blames himself for what happened to chara. so he'd rather sit here in a world where he's in control and bored because at least he knows what's coming. people are predictable, but it offers him some weird stability

the other thing that really gets me about his ability to save is that he can only go back to waking up as a flower. at this point, chara is already gone, and he can't go back to being "asriel". it feels like... no matter how much he thinks about chara, who they were and their death and his inability to keep them from dying and how they filled their water to the top of the glass, he can't go back. he can reset everything all he wants, but he can't go back to before chara died. and adding onto that, wanting to return ends up idolizing chara in his brain. who knows if he even still thinks of them as they actually were. it's part of the reason why no one feels real to him. he has this distinct disconnect with himself and others because he needs to be in control and know everything, while with chara he felt they were "special". that they're the only one that could possibly understand.

and it makes sense that he feels that way! the only person who experienced his trauma was chara. he has an emotional wall up because the underground can't truly understand what he's feeling. no one feels real to him both because of this emotional wall but also because he's convinced himself that he's in control, that he knows exactly how things are going to go. he has this superiority and inferiority to others and a terrible savior complex because of his trauma, and it shows itself in his ability to save. it's like... he feels so trapped and out of control that he's desperately trying to hold onto any sense of control he can get but he doesn't realize how much his refusal to let go and heal is hurting him.

gonna talk about grief when it comes to suicide specifically here so WATCH OUT!!!! okay i have warned u all i am going to talk about it now. feel free to leave if it may be triggering i am begging u to not put urself through triggering bullshit <3

anyway i think the fact that chara took themself out and asriel felt like he couldn't tell anyone because this was for the sake of freeing everyone is really. that's the nail in the coffin. the heart of his control issues. i feel it might be a bit difficult to understand if someone hasn't gone through that grief themselves, but when someone you've known and loved has told you of a plan to get rid of themselves for the sake of everyone else, it leaves you feeling helpless. after all, if someone plans to do it, they will do it. you can't control that no matter how much you might want to. the fact that he lived through that-- that he couldn't stop chara, that he couldn't save anyone not even himself, that he might have made the wrong choice-- that's the thing that's eating at him. he constantly talks about how If Only Someone Made The Right Choice Everything Could Have Been Prevented. he's taken up chara's death unto himself. if only he did the right thing, then maybe chara would be here. but that's not how it works. chara was their own person, but asriel doesn't know how to be his own person.

that's why him saying he doesn't regret his choice anymore after so much time is so important!! it's him finally accepting that he needs to let go of chara and start living for himself. so his ability to save and finally letting go of his ability to save is so important to his trauma and cycle of self hatred. that's why he begs us to let frisk go. he knows what it's like to live through that cycle. the ability to save can be a metaphor for plenty of things but i think with flowey specifically it's an incredibly well written way of establishing what trauma feels like and the need to be in control after feeling so out of control of everything during the event. i hope that my deranged rambling makes any amount of sense cuz i think about this so very much

flowey is such an important character to me cuz he's really helped me analyze my own process of thinking while dealing with that kind of grief and it's kinda helped me come to terms with what happened. i love flowey sooo very much i really hope we get to see him more in the newsletter stuff cuz i neeeeed to see him being happy and living his life after his trauma i love the fact that he has a ribbon from papyrus cuz hes finally living for himself and his friendships and i am GOING to CRY !!!!

#undertale #utdr #flowey #asriel dreemurr #asriel #utdr analysis

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freackthejester · 1 year

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it's me from the last ask, hello !! and here are my random sandlot headcanons :)

scotty hcs:

- favorite color is blue

- he's gay

- can't handle anything scary at all, hates horror movies and haunted houses and halloween is his least favorite holiday

- if the camera doesn't show it, he'll stand on his tip toes in pictures so that he looks a little taller

- gets really bad spring allergies

- his favorite classes are science and math

- he loves science fiction novels

- he doesn't like sour candy

benny hcs:

- refuses to admit when he's sick

- moves in his sleep and always ends up in the weirdest positions; like halfway off the bed and hanging upside down

- clicks his pen absentmindedly in class and doesn't even notice until someone tells him to stop

- he's either gay or bi, idk yet but he definitely isn't straight because he's scotty's bf

- his younger cousins draw pictures for him whenever they visit and he saves all of them. they're in a drawer in his bedroom.

- shoves his friends in the pool (and if they're tiny enough, he'll pick them up and throw them in.)

- hates when people cry because he never knows what to do.

scott x benny / baseball bfs hcs

- scotty always falls asleep first at sleepovers, benny makes sure that nobody messes him while he sleeps.

- whenever any of the guys want benny to do something, they tell scotty to ask him because "he always says yes to you."

- they are always touching in some way (leaning against each other, arm over shoulder, et cetera) and benny is usually the one to initiate it.

- benny hates math and science. they're his worst subjects. so he studies with scotty because being with his best friend makes the subjects more bearable. plus he explains the concepts way better than the teachers do.

- scotty has a tendency to ramble and over explain, especially when it's about a topic he's interested in, and benny just stares at him all lovingly the entire time without realizing. bro is MESMERIZED by his nerd bf.

- you know that "one for the money, two for the show" trend on tiktok? benny is elvis' version and scotty is taylor's. i will not elaborate or accept any criticism on this.

I don't have anything to add, I just read this and smiled a lot because it's cute and you are right. You could probably get a pretty good spooky Halloween scared/comfort fic going based on what you've already got bouncing around in your head.

Thank you for sharing these, because for the most part I'm just trying to avoid remembering what the years after '62 were actually like.

I have no idea what you are talking about with your one for the money two for the show bit, but that's okay, because I do not expect you to elaborate, just understand that I am the Lana Del Ray part of the meme. i think.

#the sandlot #anon ask #i say stuff #sorry for falling asleep right after you sent this

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hugespace · 3 years

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Therapy helps rhett realize that all of those "I'm dead" UFC moves were actually just a way to fulfill his need for physical intimacy at a time in his life where he didn't feel it was acceptable to ask for it, especially from another man. Now that they're both adults and completely different people than they were in college, rhett decides it's time to explain it all to link and let him know that he actually misses that physical contact with him.

It took me a really long while, but I finally finished this one! I really loved that prompt, so thank you so much for giving it to me, lovely Anon. I was initially going to write it as a platonic/romantic friendship kinda story, but it seems I'm determined to write a hundred different first kiss + feelings realisation scenarios, I simply enjoy those way too much.

*** 2,5K ***

Let me hold you

He’s done it again.

Not so long ago, Rhett promised himself not to bring it up in front of cameras or a microphone unless he talks it out with Link, privately.

Especially not as a joke.

And he’s failed already, he scolds himself short after the Ear Biscuits episode is recorded and they’re both out of the room, heading back towards their office.

He thinks he could have just omitted it, shouldn’t have mentioned anything. It simply wasn’t necessary to mull over it again, even with the topic of the episode revolving around their college experience. It wasn’t a big deal, he said it himself, countless times. Every time they talked about it on the show.

So, every time.

There’s never been a conversation in private about that incident or anything that preluded it, never in the absence of people to entertain, never not around at least one recording device. Because why would there be? It wasn’t a big deal. A funny story, s’all.

He’s also never been able to just let things go, though, and thanks to that inability, the lore of wrestling and the “I’m dead” move had to live on. It was an innocent story, a funny albeit embarrassing one – their unofficial brand after all, an easy misunderstanding and a fun little anecdote, not his carefully curated version of what happened, nor a watered-down one, not just a part of the entire story devoid of any feelings associated with it, not a big deal-! And most of all, not… true. Not true.

Rhett isn’t sure if Link has been consciously going along with that wordlessly agreed upon version of what their UFC phase looked like, repressing the truth behind it, or… simply never realised what it meant for Rhett and genuinely thought of it as a humorous yet insignificant part of their friendship in the past.

Most likely the third option, he has to assume. After all, why would Link attach any meaning to it? It’s not like anything actually ever happened, not outside of Rhett’s mind at least. Frankly, he himself went decades without understanding his own motivations, more than once confused by why the memories of wrestling with his friend and laying on top of him felt both shameful and deeply comforting. Why even long after they grew up, stopped being kids, and as a result retired all their UFC moves, the only way he could describe what he felt thinking about that time was longing.

Until therapy happened.

Just like with many different things in his life:

There was something in the darkness, and then therapy shone a light on it.

It was like there were countless situations he navigated solely on instinct, without paying much thought to the reasons behind why he acted a certain way, and once therapy equipped him with the ability to do so, he unearthed an entire deep layer of feelings and emotions that were always there. Just hidden, even from himself.

The wrestling being one of those things.

So, he thinks Link doesn’t know.

And he’s finally determined to change that.

Why now, when he’s had so many chances to talk to Link over the years ever since he started being more in touch with himself? He doesn’t really have an answer; it’s just that after talking about it with such levity again, after repeatedly making a joke out of it, it feels like he might explode if he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t confess to Link what it was really like. And most of all, it feels like the yearning has become stronger lately, and the conversation yet again playing it all off as them being young and silly only ignited it, made the flame inside of Rhett burn brighter, threatening to make his heart combust.

“I need to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind.” Rhett says easily once they’re in the office. It’s not an unsure statement or a nervous plea with words tumbling out of his mouth before he can lose his cool and change his mind. It would have been all that and more a couple of years ago, sure.

But he’s a different man now. He’s not afraid to tell the person who’s been with him for almost the entirety of his life what he feels.

Link, however. He does look unsure, a bit alarmed even, when he looks at Rhett and responds.

“Sure-? What is it? Do you wanna talk now?”

It’s just like him to worry. Run a hundred different scenarios in his head, most of them negative, trying to prepare himself for every possible outcome of a serious conversation before it even began. It’s an anxious survival instinct that makes Link resilient to even the worst that life has to offer and able to face it all head on. But right now, it’s nothing scary. Rhett doesn’t want his friend to be worried, so he quickly says as much.

“Don’t worry, s’not bad. Just something we talked about on the podcast today.” The blonde sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him, hoping he appears to be as calm as he truly feels inside and that it might dissolve some of Link’s concern, still written all over his face.

The other man takes his place on the sofa and looks at him expectingly.

“Right. So-“ Rhett’s calmness doesn’t completely evaporate once Link gives him his full attention, but it’s suddenly laced with some nerves. “About the wrestling. You know, in college. And before that. And- Especially about my ‘I’m dead’ move. I’ve been thinking about it, and-“

“Rhett, I swear, if you made me sit down for a talk only to tell me you’d like to make it a part of our conflict resolution again, then ha-ha. Very funny. I’d like to go get myself some coffee now.” Link cuts him off with an unamused look in his eyes and almost makes a move to stand up.

Rhett is quicker though and grabs the brunette’s arm before he can really move, effectively making him stay in place.

“What? No. That’s not what I’m saying. Like, at all. I-“ He realises he’s still holding onto Link’s arm and instinctively wants to retract his hand, but that same feeling that led him to initiating this conversation in the first place makes him reconsider. “I’ve been thinking about what it all meant and why I did that, especially when we fought or you were angry with me, and-“

“Because we were young.” Link quickly answers what wasn’t even a question. “We had too much energy and neither of us really wanted to hurt the other by punching him or- or fighting in earnest. What else would it mean.”

“Link can you let me talk? I’m trying to say something important.” Rhett squeezes Link’s forearm. “So, as I was saying. I mostly did it when you were angry or I was feeling unsure, and I didn’t realise it back then, but- But I know now, that I just… needed reassurance. You know, physical contact.” He explains, looking straight into Link’s eyes and trying to interpret his reaction before it comes.

When nothing happens, and the brunette just stares back at him with a furrowed brow, he feels compelled to continue and elaborate.

“Like when people… hug after an argument-?” His brain almost challenges him to make a different comparison, presenting a parallel between laying half-naked on top of your best friend and another activity people often partake in to make up after a fight. But that’s not- It’s not what he’s trying to say. It’s not like that.

The face in front of him frowns in confusion, blue eyes squinting and mouth opening and closing again, only letting out a puff of air and no sound at first.

When Link finally responds, his voice is unsure, like he suspects that he’s not understanding something right. “Are you trying to tell me you wanted to hug me when we bickered, so you pushed me to the floor and laid on me till I was even angrier, instead…?”

That’s not fully what Rhett meant, but it’s close enough, so he nods.

“What the crap, Rhett-? You're not making any sense.”

“Okay, listen…” He decides to go for a different approach. “We still don’t hug after arguments. We never hug hello. I think I could count on my fingers how many times we’ve actually hugged each other as adults, outside of the show!”

“Yeah! That’s just not what we do! We’ve never done those things, it’s just not a part of our relationship- I still don’t know what you wanna tell me here Rhett.” Link throws his hands in the air in a gesture of resignation.

“I want it to be a thing we do, okay?! I always did, but I was afraid to ask for it so I just took what you could give me without talking about it. Can’t have actual intimacy? Make up a UFC thing so I can be close to you! Can’t hold you when I’ve made you mad? Better lay on top of you till you give up and have no choice but stop!” Rhett pauses to finally take a breath.

“That time that guy saw us- I’m sure you remember I stormed off right after-? I panicked, it was like him seeing us and thinking there was something else happening almost made feel like it was something else, and since I started it, it also felt like I wanted it to be something else. I got so angry at myself for even trying and I never did it again. I’m sure you remember that, too!” Words flow out of Rhett in a hurried and increasingly loud cascade, while Link’s eyes grow bigger and comprehension dawns on his face.

“I know how stupid it sounds. But you know how I was. We were well into our thirties when I still refused to get close to you. And it’s not that I didn’t want to, it was the opposite – I wanted it a lot, man.”

„But I thought...?” Link seems to be turning a thought over in his head. “I thought you just never liked it. That the wrestling thing was about you… asserting dominance. That’s what it felt like at least. Like you trying to act like an older brother or somethin’.”

“No- It was me wanting to be close to you and not knowing how to ask for it. My very convoluted way of expressing love, you could call it. And I’m sorry it took me-“

“What changed-? I mean, what made you wanna talk about it?” There’s urgency in Link’s voice when he cuts Rhett off.

“I… I realised I miss it. I told you, we still don’t really hug or get intimate, however that sounds, and I’m not gonna just topple you and pin you to the ground again. We’re too old for that. For once, I don’t think either my back or your shoulders would survive if we started wrestling every time I wanted to be affectionate. But also- We’re over forty, Link. What does it say about me if I can’t just ask a person I love and have loved for almost four decades to hold me when I need it and would resort to, well, aggression-? That’s not how it should work.”

Link ponders Rhett’s words for a few beats before opening his mouth again, only to let three breathy words escape. “You love me-?”

It seems like the wrong thing to focus on, Rhett just opened up to say he not only craves physical intimacy now, but also struggled with that same need when they were younger so badly, he had to invent an entire intricate system allowing him to be closer, and Link questions the one thing he knows already. Because of course he knows, Rhett’s said as much dozens of times, of course he loves him. But it appears he has to say it anyway, judging from the weird look in Link’s eyes.

“I do, of course I lo-“ The blonde begins, yet he doesn’t get a chance to finish and ask whether Link heard the other part of his confession at all, because at once, his mouth isn’t free to keep talking and there’s no air left in his lungs as the man who was just sitting right next to him plunges forward and collides with him, lips first.

Oh. Rhett manages to form one more coherent thought despite being startled and entirely taken aback. Link misunderstood. That’s why he got hung up on the love confession. That’s not what Rhett meant, that’s not what he was trying to say, it’s not like that-

He feels like he should clear things up as quickly as possible. Logically, he should be panicking, racking his brain for a way to straighten things up, to explain to Link that it wasn’t what he was trying to say without making things worse, without ruining everything and making his best friend feel miserable and embarrassed, until…

Until Rhett realises his body went rogue and started responding without his conscious decision, his lips are moving against the other man’s, one of his hands is cupping Link’s face, while the other strayed away and is caressing his back. And it feels like his heart is trying to break out of the ribcage with how hard it’s pounding in his chest, along with his stomach doing wild summersaults. And he’s not panicking, not at all. And it’s not a misunderstanding, how could it, when he loves Link with his entire soul, with his whole being- And exactly like that, it hits him. Starting this conversation, he thought he already understood everything, but he didn’t– there was still that last puzzle piece missing.

They come up for air, panting from the intensity of that first kiss, foreheads flush with each other. Rhett finishes the sentence he began before Link’s move changed everything. “Of course I love you.” He means it now, he means it exactly like Link took it and can’t comprehend how he didn’t think of it before, but it’s perfectly obvious now.

So he hugs Link. He encircles the man’s body with his long arms, squeezes, and holds him, feels his friend snuggle into him, nuzzle his face into the crook of his neck and breathe deeply, holding Rhett's larger body in return.

All he needed was ask for the closeness.

He asked, and he got it.

He got all he wanted and so much more.

So, so much.

#rhink fic #anonymous prompt #my writing

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lord-of-gender · 3 years

Text

A Small Problem - Part 3

The Red Banquet

2761 words

As the 25th came Phil and Niki were having alot of trouble getting Tommy into something nice. He refused to wear the suit that was his years ago claiming it was 'too itchy'. So they resorted, with much protest from Techno, to making him a version of Techno's cape from some of his extra fabric and the old L'Manburg suit that once was Fundy's to be wore underneath.

"Oh my god, finally," Phil said as Techno grabbed Tommy from running out of the cabin.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Tommy chanted, giggling as he latched onto Techno's arm, he picked the boy off and handed him to Phil.

"Are you sure you're not coming," Niki asked.

"No, I don't trust that Eggpire, besides I have other things to do." Techno said.

During the trip through the Nether Niki and Phil politely chatted, but Tommy remained silent and huddled against them, as if they were the only things keeping him there. He never liked the Nether, he didn't know why, it was just scary and didn't sit right with him. When they neared the community portal Tommy sprinted to it, wanting, almost needing to get out.

"Niki!" Hannah said when they came out of the portal, "you look beautiful. Who's this little guy?"

Tommy looked to Sam who was behind her, he'd learned that there were certain people who couldn't know his name. "I'm Tommy," he said when Sam nodded.

"Ooh! Are you now," Hannah said, surprised.

"Yeah!" He said excitedly.

"We should probably get going so we're not late," Sam said as Tommy ran up to him and walked next to him.

"Sam, Sam," Tommy pulled on his suit, trying to get Sam's attention, "look what I can do."

"What is it," Sam said, looking down at him as Tommy furrowed his eyebrows in concentration.

"Oh you're going to be freaked out by this," Phil laughed and Niki giggled.

Slowly Tommy's features changed, he started sprouting fur and whiskers on his face. Tommy grinned up at Sam as his face looked like a raccoon.

"Okay, that's weird, how long has he been able to do that," Sam asked Phil.

"A few days, but Techno's discovered he can only do animals. We were in quite some shock when we found him fully transformed into a raccoon," Phil explained. "And of course Techno's first instinct was to exploit it."

"Ranboo didn't let him," Niki inputted when Sam started to look worried.

Soon they came up to the entrance of the banquet, everyone wore nice suits and dresses. They all stuck with the red theme of the banquet. Tommy morphed back to look normal as everyone fawned over him. Everyone had complied with the Eggpire's request of no weapons or armor, well except for Phil. Techno had insisted that he bring at least his bow and sword which could easily be hidden, a totem, and a few potions.

"Wow, you all look amazing," Antfrost greeted them. Not mentioning Tommy, who as soon as he saw Ant didn't budge from Sam's side.

"Thank you, you look very dapper yourself Ant," Puffy said, laughing.

"You okay buddy," Sam took Tommy to the side as they entered the basement where the Egg had taken over.

Tommy shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "I don't like it. Something's wrong."

"Do you want to stay with Phil," Sam asked, thinking maybe Tommy would feel safer with someone he was more familiar with. Tommy thought about it then nodded, trying to stay as far away from the Egg as he could.

"You alright Tommy," Niki asked the boy as he came up to Phil and grabbed his pant's leg.

"I-I fink something is going to happen, I don't know if we should be here," Tommy said.

"I'm sure everything is going to be fine Tommy, you have so many people here who care about you." Phil said, "I promise nothing bad is going to happen to you. Okay?"

"Okay," Tommy nodded and the trio walked over to where the others had gone over to dance.

"Care to dance," Bad said, offering his hand to Puffy. She accepted, this could be a statement between the two leaders. One against the Egg, the other for. A symbol of unity and peace.

As Hbomb continued to play music Niki and Eret danced as well, Foolish swept up Tommy and started to dance with the kid, sending Tommy into a fit of giggles as he was spun around. The boy forgot about his uneasy feelings and started to enjoy the party.

"So who's ready for a feast," Ant announced and they were led to a large table. Tommy sat by Phil as he sat near the edge of the table.

"So toasts, speeches, does anyone have any," Bad said.

"I do actually," Foolish said, as he spoke Tommy's ears started ringing and he zoned out. Something was wrong, he didn't know what put something was happening. "But I'm willing to give you a 3rd- 4th chance."

"Phil, I want to go home," Tommy whispered, but Phil dismissed him. He wasn't going to be rude, the Eggpire seemed to have changed.

"I'd like to say something as well," Eret said and started speaking how he was glad the SMP was turning back into how it was.

"You know what I've learned over my time," Ponk said, "as a wise man once said, people do change." They expected him to elaborate but he just stopped there.

"You look beautiful tonight," Sam muttered.

"I would like to speak as well," Puffy said, breaking the silence and standing up. "Bad, I'm glad you hosted this party. We've been through alot together and this egg has separated us quite a bit. And I'm happy that I won't have to sacrifice anymore friendships. Thank you for today, and I hope this brings us all together. I also hope that after today we never have to hear the words 'a new neaf' or 'second chances' or 'bygones be bygones' because you will start doing what's right. And I'm glad that the fighting's finally over."

"I can agree with that," Eret said, raising his glass. Everyone copied saying cheers and raising their drinks.

"Would anyone else like to say some words," Bad asked, looking around.

"Well do you have anything to say, Bad," Puffy asked as she sat down.

"Why yes, I do actually," Bad said. "I would like to say I appreciate you all coming. This was a perfect opportunity for us as a community to come together and honestly, to let bygones be bygones. To set any past issues aside and to set things right, so we can grow and advance in the future."

"Phil," Tommy tugged on his jacket, starting to panic as lava poured from walls, trapping them in the room. "Phil, we need to go."

"Not now Tommy," Phil hissed, why was he so insistent on leaving? Realizing he wasn't going to get Phil's attention he got up and was going to Niki who wasn't sitting too far from them.

"And now," Bad said as the lava encased them, "prepare to die."

"What," Puffy exclaimed and the others started to panic as well. "What about turning over this leaf?!"

"No, the leaf is staying the way it is," Bad said.

"Tommy," Phil grabbed him, and gave him a potion as Puffy uncovered the armor she had hidden, but was gone. "Listen to me you take this fire resistance and get out of here. The entrance is just over there, you run, and you go find help. Okay?"

Tommy nodded, he looked at the lava nervously but Phil and everyone was counting on him, he had to do it. He gulped down the potion and sprinted where they had come in.

"Stop him," Hannah yelled, running after Tommy. "Tommy get back here!"

Phil pulled out his bow and shot the few arrows he had at Hannah. She whirled around to look where the arrows had come from. Unsheathing his sword he ran after Hannah, buying the time Tommy needed to escape. She had armor and Phil didn't so he was forced to throw his sword to the side in order to not be killed.

"There, I have nothing else," Phil said, putting his hands in the air. He'd done what he needed. He'd got Tommy out and soon he'll be back with help.

"Now Sam!" Puffy said, Sam flipped a hidden lever and tnt came pouring down onto the Egg. But as it blew up obsidian covered the Egg and vines surrounding it, protecting the Egg from the explosion.

"Did you really think that would work," Bad laughed with the others as Phil was forced back to the crowd. "After Quackity tried that, we took extra precautions. Now who should we execute first?"

"Execute?!" Eret exclaimed with the others freaking out as well. "You're a monster."

"You're one to speak," Ponk said, he was apart of the server when Eret had betrayed L'Manburg.

"I've changed, I have learned not to betray others trust in me," Eret said.

"Well maybe you could be our first sacrifice," Bad said, "we'll take care of Phil and Sam next."

"No, no, no," Eret said as he was forced up to the area in front of the Egg.

"Stop!" Foolish said, he couldn't let Eret be killed, not while he could still do something. "Enough. You know protecting itself from tnt, that was impressive. But can it survive a barrage of lightning?" He raised his hands and started to channel his power as a god, but nothing. Nothing happened. "I-I don't understand."

"You really think you can come into the Egg's domain and be able to defeat it," Bad said, "I have an even better idea. How about we sacrifice the totem first."

"No!" Puffy screamed as Eret was let go and Foolish forced up to the podium and forced down to his knees.

"You could have prevented this Puffy," Antfrost said, "you could have stayed with the Eggpire and none of this would be happening."

"We don't know that," Sam said.

"I left the Eggpire cause I realized we were hurting people," Puffy said.

"But look at where that got you, we're going to kill your son," Ant said.

"Puffy, it's okay," Foolish said, and Ant swung his sword down, a bright green light filling the room as the totem lost his first life.

"No!" Puffy cried, tears started to spill from her eyes, and there was nothing she could do.

"One down and so many more to go," Bad laughed, looking at all of them. "Now who do we kill next? Perhaps Sam for trying to blow up the Egg, or Philza for hiding Tommy from us or even-"

"You're not going to be killing anyone!" Quackity leaped down from a small opening in the basement. "Bad, this isn't you. This isn't you Bad, we both know this."

"Where did you come from," Bad demanded, pointing a crossbow in Quackity's direction. He had nothing and didn't seem to have any weapons.

"I know what you're doing here but you're going to stop right now," Quackity said, pulling out a sword. "Look at what you've done. This is impressive. But you have to stop. This whole Egg thing has gotten out of hand. You just killed a man. Was that your plan all along? To kill innocent people? This has gotten completely out of control and I'm not going to have it. You're going to stop, right now."

"Now why would we do that," Bad walked towards him as Quackity equipped armor. "You think putting on armor will help you? Why do you think we did all this, we did this for the Egg. You can't give us what the Egg can give us. Don't get in our way. Don't try and stop us."

"Bad, look what you've done," Quackity walked around the room. "You've trapped all these people here, all these innocent people. In what you've disguised as a party. What have they done to you?

"You are a pawn to power, something that doesn't care about you. I mean look at the Egg, it doesn't mean anything Bad." Quackity slipped a golden apple and axe to Puffy, "So how about he stop playing games. How 'bout that?"

"I can't, I can't stop and you know why," Bad said. "And you know what Quackity if you wanted to stop us, you should have brought an army."

"I did, in fact I brought the next best thing," Quackity laughed, "I brought my biggest enemy."

"Alright Quackity, where's this Egg you were talking about," Technoblade emerged from the same opening. Phil started laughing as dogs came in behind him, teeth bared and ready to attack at Techno's command.

"It's right here, Techno," Quackity grinned, putting his sword against his shoulder.

"Let's go!" Phil said as Niki whispered it, he wasn't afraid to show his support to his friend.

"And not only that, I went looking across the entire lands for the best mercenary I could find. Cause you're right, I can't take you alone. So I got two of the best fighters on the server, welcome him Bad," Quackity said and Purpled emerged as well.

"Purpled," Bad exclaimed, "we hired you to kill Puffy and you join the enemy's side!"

"Bad, to be frank with you," Purpled said, "Quackity just had the better price."

"And Techno," Bad said, thinking he could negotiate with him. "You and Quackity are enemies! Why would you side with him?"

"Did you really think Bad, that you could execute my closest friends." Techno said, "No, your biggest mistake here was inviting Phil and thinking you could attempt to kill him without me finding out. And that's just the tip of the iceburg. This Egg, it's warping peoples' minds, it's controlling them and has no plans of stopping. And this Egg is the epitome of everything I stand against as an anarchist. So yeah, you've given me enough reason to work with Quackity."

"We're not going to let you stop us," Bad said, his voice wavered though, could they taking on The Blade himself? Most of them had seen the destruction he brought upon L'Manburg. "We still out number you, four against three."

"Not for long," Puffy said, splashing a potion of strength on herself and ran at them with the axe she now had. "You're dead Antfrost!"

"Wait! When did Puffy get a weapon?!" Bad yelled as Puffy attacked Ant.

"You've taken my kindness for weakness," Puffy said, swinging the axe down and killing Ant before he was able to defend himself. She turned around, tears streaming down her face, ready to attack the others as well.

"Dogs attack!" Techno yelled, attacking Ponk. Quackity and Purpled followed, attacking Bad and Hannah.

The three did their best to fight off the dogs, able to kill and injure some of them. But is wasn't enough they would soon be overwhelmed.

"Retreat," Bad yelled, they were no match for them. He broke into a wall near the Egg that opened up into a maze of tunnels.

"Purpled, you follow them, we'll take care of things here," Quackity said, Purpled nodded and ran into the tunnels.

"Phil, are you alright," Techno went up to him and Niki. "Where's the kid?"

"I gave him a fire res and sent him out, I thought he would have ran into you," Phil said.

"And the Eggpire knows who he is," Niki added, "we have to find him."

"Got it, we should take care of this Egg though," Techno said.

"I-I'll build a prison for it if I have to,” Sam said.

“Okay, but will that contain this?” Quackity asked, “are we sure that’s going to be enough?”

“We need to leave,” Techno said, the only way out was the opening they had made in the wall. “Tommy’s out there, we have to make sure he’s okay.”

“I should come,” Sam said, he needed to prioritize Tommy, even if it ment pushing back trapping the Egg.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do here,” Quackity said, “Techno, you know the way out.”

Techno built a path up to the opening and handed Phil a weapon to defend himself with. When they got out of the basement Phil spotted someone wandering around, thinking it might be Tommy he ran in their direction, Niki following.

“Phil!” He exclaimed when he saw them, “boy am I glad to see you.”

“Wil-Wilbur,” Niki said, she couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t Ghostbur, but Wilbur himself, in the flesh.

Alive.

#long post #childinnit #the egg #dsmp roleplay #dsmp #c!wilbur #c!sam #c!puffy #c!eret #c!philza #c!awesamdude #c!badboyhalo #c!ponk #c!dream #c!nihachu #c!ranboo #guess who’s back #and has no idea what’s going on

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ronnie-azumane · 3 years

Text

Flower Rings

Hello everyone! I'm here with another Anisylum collab! This is the first time writing for my OG anime husband, so please go easy on me. But yeah! I hope y'all enjoy and check out the other works from the other creators participating!

CW: Abuse/beating, fluffy hurt/comfort, ATTACK ON TITAN MANGA SPOILERS, mentions of trauma, suicide, and death.

Life in the ghetto wasn’t a walk in the park. Sure, life could be worse, (Y/N) could be going hungry at night, slowly turning into skin and bones. (Y/N) could be shivering the night away in a flimsy tent with a single blanket to keep warm.

Although it’s a little hard to be grateful for what you have when it feels like the oppressor is always watching your every move.

It doesn’t take a genius to see the lack of justice in these ghettos provided by the Marleyan regime, however, young (Y/N) didn’t pay attention to her oppressors as much, they’re only a child after all. Why would they even want to be concerned about politics when the neighbors are playing a game of kickball?

Almost like clockwork, every week at precisely 5pm, the children born in the ghetto would gather in a courtyard and play kickball, with the ball being an old ball accidentally thrown over the fence years ago and the bases marked by old linens.

Kids of all ages gathered as usual at the court yard to divide out the teams and begin their game of ball. (Y/N) wasn’t the youngest there, but at seven years old, they were still young and scrawny, so it was no surprise that (Y/N) was one of the last ones picked.

(Y/N) sighed in relief, however, when they saw that Reiner was on their team. Reiner was three years older than (Y/N), and pretty much tied to their hip. Since both their mothers were friends growing up, they always had playdates together, playing with various figures and creating these elaborate plots to go along with them.

“We’re on the same team? Yes!” Reiner celebrates, jumping around excitedly as any ten year old would.

“You’re only celebrating because you’re too chicken to face me,” (Y/N) teased, sticking their tongue out.

A succession of ‘am not’s and ‘am to’s was promptly stopped when one of the older kids shouted that the game was about to start. Team Black would be kicking first while Team White would pitch.

(Y/N)’s favorite part of the game was kicking, so finding out that the Black Team was kicking first was music to their ears. They ran to the line, getting as close to the front as they could. Reiner held back, as he preferred catching the ball and running fast to get someone out.

(Y/N) was finally up to kick. Team Black had an out and kids on second and third base. If they scored, their team would get their first point.

The ball bounced a slight bit as it made its way toward (Y/N). (Y/N) wound back their leg and hit the ball back, aiming in between the second and third base. The ball flew and (Y/N) sprinted to first base.

What (Y/N) failed to realize was that Jameson, the eight year old boy that had a personal goal of making every day miserable for (Y/N), was waiting by first base.

As they ran toward the base, Jameson positioned himself to where his foot would ‘accidently’ get in the way of (Y/N)’s footing. Sure enough, (Y/N) stepped on his foot, causing them to lose their balance and fall to the ground before hitting the base.

“What the hell, (Y/N), you stepped on my foot!” Jameson shouted, landing a kick in (Y/N)’s side. (Y/N) yelped in pain as they curled into themself.

“You put your foot there on purpose,” (Y/N) sniffled as pain-filled tears leaked from their eyes.

“So what if I did? You still should have avoided it,” Jameson landed another kick to their side.

Reiner, who was zoned out looking at a bee buzzing around, snapped back to reality when he heard (Y/N) yelp in pain in the distance. Before he could think, he found himself running over to the two and punching Jameson square in the face.

Before Jameson could retaliate, Reiner picked up (Y/N) from the ground and ran away from the game, carrying them on his back. Deciding it was not worth the effort, Jameson let them run off as he got back to his game, but not before the team captain of the day switched him to outfield as punishment.

With (Y/N) on his back, Reiner ran to their self proclaimed happy place, if you could call anywhere in the ghetto happy. Near the entrance gate, there was a patch of grass where wildflowers grow, giving them a taste of the natural world that was unknown to them within the walls of the ghetto. He set them down and plopped next to their shuttering frame.

“How are you feeling, (Y/N), are you hurt? Do we need to go to the doctor?” Reiner asked.

“I’m hurt, but I don’t want to go to the doctor.”

“Are you still afraid that the doctor is going to give you a shot?” Reiner teased.

“Shut up! Needles are scary!” (Y/N) whined, causing Reiner to giggle.

Soon enough, the pain in (Y/N)’s side began to fade, and they focused themselves on making a flower crown while Reiner watched the Marleyan soldiers outside the gate train.

“My mama wants me to be a warrior, but I’m not too sure that's what I want to do,” Reiner sighed, lying all the way back on his back.

“How come? Isn’t becoming a warrior one of the best things an Eldian can do for Marley?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yeah, but that would mean I would have to work really hard, while buttheads like Jameson would get to play and make fun of you. It wouldn’t be fair!”

“Why are boys like Jameson so mean anyway? My mommy told me that it just meant that he liked me, but why would someone be mean to someone they liked?” (Y/N) asked.

“Is that a thing?” Reiner asks.

“That’s what mommy says,” (Y/N) finished their flower crown and unceremoniously flopped it onto Reiner’s head, earning a giggle from him. “I wouldn’t want to marry a guy like Jameson, I would want to marry a guy like you, Reiner, who’s nice to me.”

“Then how about we make a promise?” Reiner asked.

“A promise?”

“Yeah, like, we promise to marry each other now, and once we get big we actually do it?” Reiner’s cheeks were now bright red.

“Yeah! I like that! I promise to marry you, Reiner,” (Y/N) extended a pinky out.

Reiner crudely plucked a flower from the ground and tied the stem around (Y/N)’s finger. Reiner’s fingers were chubby and unskilled, so the flower ring didn’t turn out as pretty as the crown, yet (Y/N) still stared at it.

“And I promise to marry you, (Y/N).”

XXX

Reiner ended up joining the Warriors a few years later, to the dismay of (Y/N). The flower ring had since shriveled up beyond repair, but (Y/N) refused to let go of their promise, thinking that if the flower stayed in their possession, it would guarantee Reiner’s safe return home.

However, the mission that was estimated to take the four warriors a year or two to complete turned into a major failure with rumors stating that only one of them was making it home. However, (Y/N) didn’t have the time to mourn her lost friend, Marley was still causing conflict in both the battle front and the home front.

It wouldn’t be until after the Rumbling ended when (Y/N) would meet up with Reiner again. He was in the area negotiating peace with some other nations, and decided a late lunch and catch-up session with his childhood friend was in order.

“So, how was going through puberty like on an island without modern medicine?” (Y/N) asked shamelessly.

“What happened to hello?” Reiner asked, causing (Y/N) to erupt in laughter.

“I’m just sad I didn’t get to witness voice-crack Reiner,” (Y/N) wiped a tear from their eye, causing Reiner to groan.

They then began to catch up, retelling all their experiences from the past thirteen years. Reiner went into detail as to what it was like training with the man who almost killed all of humanity, his trauma, and even his suicide attempt while (Y/N) retold moments of agony in the ghetto, their dad getting drafted for one of the countless wars, and even confessed that they and Jameson dated at one point.

“You! And him!” Reiner stuttered.

“Apparently my mom was right, Jameson pretended he hated me because he couldn’t decipher his own feelings. Dumped his ass a while ago though, he started spending all his money on alcohol.”

“So I’m assuming you’re not seeing anyone?” Reiner asked.

“Not at the moment, why do you ask?”

“Well, (Y/N), I may have had ulterior motives to this lunch,” Reiner pulled out a small box from his pocket and set it on the table, inviting (Y/N) to open it up. Inside was a ring, with the centerpiece shaped as the flower that he tied onto (Y/N)’s finger all those years ago.

“What is this?” (Y/N) stuttered.

“You probably don’t remember, but one day, I gave you a flower ring with a promise. I’m sure it’s long gone by now.”

“Yeah, lost it in the rumbling. Are you really proposing to me right now?”

“No no no! This is just a reminder of that promise we made that afternoon. That promise helped me push through all the hardships I faced,” Reiner flailed his arms a bit, getting slightly flustered.

“So, a promise ring?”

“I promised I’d marry you, didn’t I?” Reiner asked as he pulled out his pinky. Smiling, (Y/N) slipped on the ring and interlocked their pinky with his.

“You did, Reiner, you did.”

#attack on titan #aot #aot spoilers #reiner x y/n #reiner braun #reiner x reader #reader insert #attack on titan x reader #h/c #server collab #I tried my best but classes start tomorrow and I'm lowkey nervous

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Text

Spooky unpredictableness

31 Days of Spooktober

Day 4/31

Cassian fully believed his girlfriend was a demon.

Not in the bad sense of the thing, even though whenever he told her that she would reply by saying that there wasn’t a good sense in that. No, Cassian just believed that Nesta could not be human. There was a series of reasons to that, but the biggest one was that his girlfriend couldn’t be scared.

Haunted houses, horror movies, pranks, jump scares… Nothing drew more than a simple frown from Nesta. Cassian just knew that she could walk into Hell itself and probably scare the Devil before being scared by him.

And so obviously, Cassian spent the whole month of October trying to scare her.

He didn’t do it as much during the rest of the year, but there was something about Halloween season that just made him insanely tempted to giive Ness a good fright. She wasn’t like Feyre who hated scary pranks, or like Elain who would scream and laugh seconds later. Nests didn’t react, and so she didn’t particularly care if Cassian tried to scare her or not.

“I’ll get you this year.” Cassian said, eyes narrowed as he stared at Nesta.

She only smiled sarcastically over her coffee mug, reading the news on her phone. “You couldn’t make me gasp from surprise even if your life depended on it, sweetheart.”

Cassian jaw fell slightly, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry?”

Nesta raised her icy grey-blue eyes to him, a light-brown eyebrow raised. “We know each other for seven years. We date for four. Tell me one time you got a reaction like that from scaring or surprising me. Let’s be honest, Cass, I can’t be scared and you have become predictable. It’s ok, it’s how our relationship works.”

“I will surprise you.”

“Uh-huh.” Nesta murmured, going back to her coffee and news.

“I mean it.”

“Of course you do.” Nesta’s ironic smile only grew. “Why don’t you go to Halloween spirit buy a Michael Myers mask? You can try catching me when I’m getting out of the bathroom. No, wait, this is not very original. Haven’t you done this already too? Like three times.”

Cassian huffed, getting up from the table. “You’ll see, Nesta Archeron.”

“Want to bet?”

He, stupidly and recklessly, assented. “Yes, I actually do.”

“Very well, name your conditions.” Nesta’s face was probably hurting from her smile.

“If I make you obviously surprised, and I mean even a gasp, I win. If by the end of the month this doesn’t happen, you win. The winner can ask anything and the loser has to say yes.”

Nesta raised her eyebrows, low laughs coming out of her. “Oh, I’m in. You’re so fucked.”

He walked out of the kitchen, Nesta’s laughs following him until he closed the bedroom’s door.

He would never admit it to anyone, especially to Nesta, but she was somewhat right. It’s not that Cassian had never tried to surprise her, but Nesta was always one step ahead, always noticing stuff he thought he had hidden well. She knew him way too well, and getting anything that would be actually surprising to her was near impossible.

And then there was the fact that Nesta couldn’t be scared. It wasn’t something solely based on Cassian, but just in general. Both Feyre and Elain would always tell the rest of their friend group that Nesta was never scared, especially during Halloween when she knew things were fake. She had been a serious kid, and nothing, absolutely nothing, would even force a surprised gasp out of her.

He was dating a goddamn evil genius, and he would need to step up his game a lot if he wished ti get Nesta to at least widen her eyes.

And so Cassian paced his room all throughout breakfast time. He mentally annotated some ideas for actual scares, but nothing that he truly believed that would make Ness surprised. After thirty minutes of nothing, he sighed, throwing himself on their bed.

At least he hadn’t bet with her.

Oh, wait.

—————

Nesta adored Halloween.

People usually believed that because of her serious demeanor, she was the type of person to hate the holiday, but to be honest, since she was a kid Nesta had loved Halloween time. She liked the autumn aesthetic, the elaborated decorations, the horror movie marathons. She loved the candy sales and how everyone was minding their own fucking business and not shoving their noses of hers.

Above all, Nesta adored Halloween because it never scared her.

Since she was little she would watch slasher movies and while her sisters squirmed and screamed, she was intently watching the story. Haunted houses in amusement parks were fun because of other people’s reactions, because they also always failed to make her jumpy. Spooky prank wars with her sisters was easy because they could never scare her, but were easily scared by her.

In short, Halloween was Nesta’s holiday and she made sure to enjoy every single second of October.

It also didn’t hurt how hilarious she found her boyfriend trying to scare her every year. At this point, he had already tried everything from masks to fake insects, jump scares to fake blood. He would even sometimes run out of ideas and repeat the same prank as if she would have magically grown terrified of plastic spiders. She found his dedication both cute and funny, but also effortless. She had gone twenty four years without falling for these pranks, and it was very unlikely that things would change now.

Sometimes she thought about asking Cassian to stop doing them. It was a waste of his money, but he seemed to enjoy them so much that Nesta just couldn’t bring herself to burst his bubble. There was also a very smug part of her that thrived on always winning their unspoken Halloween matches, but she’d never say this out loud if only to maintain her cold and detached nature about these childish pranks.

All those factors together were what made her, in the following morning, taste her sugar before pouring it into her coffee.

She turned to Cassian who was sitting at the table and intently not looking at her. “Really, Cassian? Salt instead of sugar? Not even my dad would fall for that one.”

Cassian scolded, but refused to look at her. Nesta simply smiled and laughed smugly, looking around the cabinets for what was labeled salt but was actually sugar.

“You got it on a Buzzfeed article, didn’t you? I told you those things will fry your brain and it’s not like you have neurons to spare.”

His head whipped in her direction, eyes narrowed and defiant. “I will surprise you, Nesta Archeron. You’re in for a fucking ride if you think not.”

Nesta smiled coyly, letting her coffee mug on the counter as she slowly walked to Cassian. “Really?”

“Yes.” His jaw was tight, but there was something about his expression that was slightly off, that was slightly different.

Ignoring the fact that she was probably being paranoid, Nesta laughed, sitting on Cassian’s lap and putting her arms around his shoulders. He was stiff under her, something that only made her laugh once more. “Cass, our relationship is not based on surprises. As much as it pains me to say, since the beginning you understood most of me, and I understood most of you. And that was a long time ago. There isn’t any aces to play, no rabbit inside the hat. Our relationship is transparent and it’s good that it’s this way.”

“You can still surprise me.” He grumbled.

“You are easily impressionable.”

“Fuck off.” Cassian’s brood broke, and he let out a huffed chuckle. “This has not convinced me to stop, just so you know.”

Nesta jumped off his lap, smirking as she went back to grab her coffee. “I never hoped it would.”

——————

It was October 31th finally.

As much as Nesta still believed she couldn’t be surprised, Cassian sure as hell was trying. Worst was, he wasn’t trying hard, he was just trying a lot.

In the past year the pranks were elaborate and hard to build, but this time they were… classics.

Fake bugs inside your drawers, mayo instead of toothpaste, garlic inside the Oreos. The type of shit that would make you want to throw the thing away, but not really the type of stuff to frighten you. He did buy some masks and put them in random places of the house to scare her, which obviously didn’t happen. He tried to get her scared by doing jump scares after they watched a horror movie, by turning on and off the lights whenever she was alone in a room. He tried the whole mirror thing that, whenever the bathroom was too hot, the words “help” would show up in it.

It was funny and he obviously thought about it, but there was something missing. There was something that was essentially Cassian not being put into those pranks. It’s like he was actually getting his ideas from Buzzfeed, and he would definitely know that none of those things would actually surprise her.

To be honest, she was somewhat disappointed. Nesta would never say it out loud, but she liked the pranks. It was a part of her relationship with Cassian since they started dating— before even— and this year it had been… boring, predictable.

Exactly what she had said it would be.

As she padded to the kitchen on Halloween morning, Nesta wondered if Cassian was doing it on purpose because of what she had said. Wondered if he had made it purposefully predictable to make her regret her own words.

She stopped in front of the fridge, shaking her head. This wasn’t Cassian’s style, no. If he was pissed about what she had said, he would have talked to her. The one in the relationship that usually brooded and was middle vindictive was her. A lot less than she was in the beginning of the relationship, and something she was constantly working on. It wasn’t that she was a mean person, but Nesta had learned to bottle her emotions so much, had learned to treat everyone so coldly as a defense mechanism, that sometimes she would panic and those would be her initial reactions.

It was a slow process— becoming more and more the person she wished to be. A lot of it had been done because of the amazing support she had from Cassian and from her sisters, but Nesta was also proud to recognize that a lot had to do with only herself.

No, Cassian wouldn’t be cruel and do something like that. Nesta knew this because, during the years that she took to overcome her trauma and get to know herself more, she had also gotten to know Cassian more. And he was never cruel, never mean.

Nesta shook her head, clearing her head of thoughts as she opened the fridge.

She could only stare at the jar in front of her, torn between sighing or laughing. She grabbed it, turning around to look at Cassian who had just entered the kitchen. “Really, Cass?”

Cassian huffed, spreading his arms. “Not even a gasp?!”

Nesta chuckled, setting the jar down on the counter. It was big and filled with a green liquid. What was supposed to be scary was the head inside that looked a lot like Rhysand’s. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t be happy if this was actually Rhys’s head.”

Cassian laughed, shaking his head. “You’ve got to let the grudge go.”

“I have!” Nesta deadpanned, examining the jar. “Most of the times, at least.”

“Well, looks like I failed.” Cassian said, and Nesta raised an eyebrow at his tone. He didn’t sound defeated, he sounded smug.

“Yes, you did.” Nesta announced, eyes narrowing at Cassian. “What the fuck are you smug about?”

His smile widened. “Nothing.”

“Fuck off, Cassian. If you honestly think I’ll let you surprise me on the last day, you’re mistaken.” Nesta rolled her eyes, turning back to the fridge to grab some grapes. “If you honestly think I’ll—“

And right there, for the first time in her entire life, Nesta found herself absolutely shocked when she turned around. A loud gasp left her mouth, the grapes she’d been holding falling to the ground and rolling all the way to where Cassian was kneeling, a complacent grin on his lips. He was holding a small black box, a simple silver band with small black diamonds on it.

“Well, well, well, Nesta Archeron. If that gasp wasn’t like fucking music to my ears.”

She placed a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Cassian…”

“If I remember our bet correctly, which I do,” he winked at her, holding the velvet black box higher. “I believe I had the right to anything I want and you have to say yes.”

Nesta let out an incredulous laugh, her head shaking. “I should have guessed that your shitty pranks weren’t because you were tired.”

Cassian threw his head back and laughed. “No, they weren’t. I thought that by making your expectations for pranks this year be lower, this whole thing would be more surprising.”

“Are you proposing to me only to win a bet, you asshole?”

Cassian grinned again, hazel eyes shining against his brown skin. “No, but you need to admit it has come in handy. I had been planning this for weeks, and then you asked if I wanted to bet I could surprise you. Honestly, you set yourself up to this. And I haven’t proposed yet, chill a little, woman.”

Nesta laughed again, eyeing Cassian. He was still wearing only the shorts he wore to bed, his shoulder-length hair a mess of curls. His face still looked slightly puffy, his usual sharp cheekbones red from happiness. Nesta guessed she wasn’t much better; she was wearing one of his white shirts, light brown hair falling down to her shoulders.

“So, are you going to ask or not? I don’t have all day.”

“So bossy, what am I getting myself into?” Cassian said ironically, but soon his face softened, smile becoming loving. “Nesta Archeron, even though you don’t have another option that it’s not a yes, would you give me the pleasure of marrying me so I can spend the rest of my Halloweens trying to scare you?”

Nesta chuckled merrily, nodding. “Yes, and even if I wasn’t forced to say yes because of this bet, I would have said it nonetheless.”

Cassian got up, immediately sliding the ring into Nesta’s finger, his other hand sneaking around her waist. He pulled her against him, a huge smile overtaking his mouth as he pressed his lips to hers. “I know you would. You’re not that unpredictable either, sweetheart.”

A/N: Oh, hello Nessian, it’s been a while... I had this idea during September and didn’t know who to give it to, but I realized today how good it fits what I imagine the Nessian long term relationship would look like! Hope you guys like it and about the kinktober: I know it was supposed to be Sunday but I was procrastinating so it’s gonna be here around 3 AM probs

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sayosdreams @justgiu12

(If you didn’t ask to be in the general tag list, you’ll only be tagged to what you specifically asked)

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sunflowerspectre · 3 years

Text

Strange Magic | Ballroom Blitz

This is a 5k commission for @krystalmoonfae

Title: Ballroom Blitz Summary: As a newfound couple, Marianne and Bog work on grasping their new normal while trying to merge both of their kingdoms and cultures. Seeing as both sides have a ball quickly approaching, they see it as a great chance to be able to teach the other about their cultures. Rating: T for mentions of drinking (and Griselda) Tags: fluff, ballroom dancing, cultural differences, minor politics, minor mentions of discrimination

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Ballroom Blitz

“Is all of this really necessary?”

Marianne looks over at Bog as he stands in an uncomfortable stance, looking himself over with bristling wings. She has to admit, it does not suit him (some part of her whispers how fairy clothes never will and she needs to stop expecting them to; that it is okay that it does not). She does not need to worry about fitting in anymore, she thought that she already accepted that.

Bog is not Roland, she reminds herself. He will not give her grief if she wears something out of season or if his outfit is not up to par and ‘perfect.’ Bog cherishes individuality, he does not squander it. Which is why, even if he will not outright admit it, he hates trying on these ridiculous clothes. But he will, at least, try .

Bog glances at her from the corner of his eyes as she takes off the vest given to him, fluttering around the room in disarray as if any of the other vests already tossed around will be any better. He can see the worry and frustration in her brow. He will try anything and everything for her.

“Calm down, tough girl,” Bog tries to ease the tension.

“I can’t calm down.” Marianne admits, “I just want this to go well.”

Marianne plops down on the flowery bed with a tired, frustrated groan, her wings spreading out behind her. While her father was not thrilled about the idea of Bog being in the castle, nevertheless actually being inside of her room, he can not exactly keep the other King out; his daughter, after all, is an adult. However, she knows that Bog’s visit is kept on a need-to-know basis, as is all of his visits.

Which is exactly why this ball is so important. She is not ashamed to be with Bog, but she is ashamed that everyone is trying to get her to keep it a secret, like it’s a scandal. She is tired of people, especially her father, telling her what is and is not acceptable for her; the latter, she hears much more than the former. She can decide that for herself; and she has decided. She wants Bog and she wants everyone else to realize just how wrong they are about him.

“Do you know how much easier it will be if this goes well,” Marianne ventures carefully, her voice soft. Bog flitters above her, hand outreached to hold hers, his wings clicking to create an insect-like noise that she relishes in; something about it brings comfort to the silence that has befallen them. The spikes of his armor and skin would destroy the delicate bed (a mistake they will not be repeating since it was so hard to explain in order to get it replaced).

Marianne takes the outstretched hand, a soft smile on her face as she notices the nervousness in his expression. She continues softly, a soft blush brushing her cheeks. Her stomach flutters and she loves that he can get this reaction out of her just from being around her, that he brings this side out of her. She thought that after Roland, the butterflies that had once fluttered in her chest were dead, but Bog - he had brought them back to life without even trying.

“I just want everyone to see you the way I do.”

His forehead pressed against hers as their eyes close; he relishes in how warm her skin feels against his forehead. She can feel the comforting coolness of armor, pleated skin. His face is always the safest place for her to touch; the twigs are not as sharp, there’s less barbs for her skin to catch on.

“I know how everyone else sees me.”

Venom seeps into his voice, if a bit unintentionally, but Marianne can hear the hurt underlying in it. “And it’s - sweet - that you are trying, but I do not really think -”

The longer he talks, the more she wants to just scream how this is exactly why she wants everyone else to see him the way she does. Why she wants those stupid fairies to realize that Bog King is not as scary as they all make him out to be - well he can be, but that is far from the only thing that he is.

Marianne places a long finger to his lips, a soft smile on her face. He takes the hint and closes his mouth, stopping himself to let her speak.

“I’m tired of the court talking about you the way that they do.” Marianne softly admits.

She never elaborates on just what they say, but Bog imagines that it’s nothing he has not heard before. Her voice turns more bitter, almost venomous and frustrated.

“I’m tired of Dad acting like there are better suitors out there. I don’t just want everyone to see as equals, you deserve it. You deserve for them to see you as the Bog King. The king I know you are.”

She flushes when she realizes just how gushy she sounds. She never meant to go on a tangent, but when she starts, it is hard for her to get herself to stop talking. All of the things that she has been pent up come flowing out like a busted dam.

Bog sighs softly, his expression softening as he flutters down to her. The sharp edges of his armor and skin cut at the delicate flower petal, but he knows this is going to be much longer conversation than he imagined. He appreciates her enthusiasm, but he gave up on that dream before she even thought of it. He knows that the divide between their kingdoms is large; while it is making its progress, there are still many hurdles for them to fly over. Every step forward feels like it is followed by two steps back.

“They’ll never see me as equals to fairies, tough girl.” Bog speaks up; his expression more somber, solemn as if he already accepted his fate. As if he knew that he would never be enough for her.

Marianne, however, just grins viciously, her teeth gleaming like the devil he knows that she can be. Each time, that grin always reminds him exactly what he loves most about her - her strength, her rebellious side, her sense of justice, her wickedness. Her refusal to abide by their rules of her and to stand by her choices - even when that choice is him.

“I guess we’ll just have to give them no choice.”

_________________________________________________

Fairy balls used to not be the dread of her existence. Marianne remembers a time when she used to look forward to it. She used to love to dress up and to dance, even if her voice carried a bit louder than quiet conversation would allow or she missed a few steps during the dance or she stepped on someone’s foot. The more she looks back on it, the more she realizes that she never quite fit in during the balls even if she did at one point enjoy it.

So if she never fit in anyway, what was the point of trying to fit in now? She may as well do what she wants, have fun, and most importantly, get her dance with Bog. Her original plan was to talk to them, get them to agree to not only Bog attending, but to have her dance with him as well. But she is a princess. Soon to be queen and she will dance with whomever she wants.

If the elders refuse to see him as her equal, at the very least this (very public) dance will help her subjects see him as such. It’s admittedly a bit backhanded. But she knows that someone such as Bog dancing with their crown princess will make their courtship hard to ignore. Harder to try to talk her out of. Harder to slip under the rug or excuse. The more public and more aggressive she is about the fact that Bog is her partner, the less of a choice they have about ignoring him.

They can not outright deny him entry if he has an invitation, she reminded herself; the courts may not like it, especially her father, but they are all too proud to deny their manners as a host. Otherwise, she imagines Sunny would have been kicked out long ago despite Dawn constantly vouching for him.

“Should we be worried about how long they’re taking,” Sunny speaks up, anxiously, from beside her; unlike most of them, Dawn did not have to choose his outfit with the elf already being one of the most fashionable among them. She almost thinks it is a shame that Dawn has not seen him yet.

Marianne glances toward him, but otherwise appears not nearly as concerned. She continues to absently sip at the grape-based wine served, almost lazily, with the peace of mind that if she spilled any than at the very least, it would not show up on the dress. While not caring much about what the others think of her outfit - considering that she has already gotten more than a few stink eyes - she is looking forward to showing herself off to Bog. Dawn had worked hard on this particular dress, with Marianne’s own input, for weeks in preparation for this. The dark purple silk was carefully dyed with wine, intricately sewn in with matching petals. She felt the color was a good way to assert herself as royalty and, admittedly, it is also just her new favorite color. The overall plan is that the neighboring political figures will not make any mistake on who the crown princess is, which will make her dance with Bog an even bigger event.

But now that the ball is in full swing, an appearance from either Dawn or Bog would make them fashionably late; something that is usually more her style than her sister’s. As crown princess, she actually took her duties in getting the ball ready more seriously, which made her almost dangerously early. Her father was thrilled that she was showing more of an interest and she did not want to ruin his good mood by telling him she was only making sure of things this time around since Bog would be joining them.

“Dawn always takes longer to get ready for these things,” Marianne reminds him, “And with a new person to dress up….”

She trails off with a bit of a shrug. It is nice for her sister (her loyal, always by her side sister) to offer to take over Bog’s clothes for the ball; Dawn all but gave her no choice when she found out. While she imagines that Bog is not having the best time, she can not help but be curious as to what Dawn put him in. Out of the two of them, her sister has always had the best taste in fashion and understood the dynamics of being a seamstress must better than herself.

Not too much later after her words, Princess Dawn’s appearance is announced by one of the guards. Considering this is one of the larger balls the kingdom throws, a majority being fairies and political figures from neighboring fairy kingdoms, their father had insisted on the more traditional approach of having each guest carefully announced. Not the worst idea until someone - or two someone - are late.

Considering that there are most everyone is there, and whomever is not by now is considered by most to not be coming, Dawn’s announcement draws a bit of attention. Most of the fairies of their own kingdom pay her no mind, used to at least one princess being late, while their other guests at the very least, turn their head to glance her way. Most just continue their slow dances and hushed whispers - whispers that, with her late attendance, seem to get a smidge louder than normal among their visitors.

To their father’s credit, he does try to greet her, but Dawn wastes no time in going in for Sunny, grabbing his wrist, then dragging him out to the dance floor. Dawn barely even greets her own sister, a smile stretched out on her face wildly, and Marianne just returns the smile as she sips at the glass. She can see her father’s disappointment from here as some of the dancers glance at Dawn and Sunny with uncertainty.

But if the attendees thought Dawn was scandalous, Marianne can not help but grin wickedly when she thinks about the stir her and Bog will cause. She knows she will get an earful later, but she also knows that a statement like this can not be dismissed.

When the guard announces Bog’s arrival, instead of the hushed whispers growing, all sound seems to stop. While the musicians eyed each other uneasily, their music coming to an abrupt stop as an uncertainty washes over them all, the sound of Marianne’s shoes against the solid floor are the only thing echoing across the ballroom.

Marianne grins viciously, her eyes lighting up as Bog enters the party. Her sister did a dastardly good job. Forgoing too much that would cover his armor and rip due to his thorns, Bog instead wears a deep purple toga, made of a thicker fabric with layers. The fabric wraps from just beside his neck across to his hip, giving him the illusion of being covered for the sake of the event, but is open enough to reveal the intricacies of his armor and give him room for his large shoulder plates. It does not go unnoticed by Marianne that they, likely intentionally if she knows her sister, match.

“Care for a dance, Bog King,” Marianne bows deeply, one foot behind the other while her hand stretches out to him in an offering. She winks at him as she meets his gaze, relishing in the way it almost makes him flustered.

Bog matches her grin, shamelessly looking her over as he appreciates her choice of dress. The silky fabric is as dangerously scandalous as he is.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

They walk to the middle of the dance room, many of the guests parting to give them plenty of space, their heads are held high as Marianne evens her breathing. She does not even bother to glance at her father, instead only giving a small wave to Dawn as her younger sister openly encourages her.

A small nod to the musicians is enough for them to start up the music again. It takes a moment for the music to build, with Bog and Marianne taking that time in getting in the proper position. They stand facing each other, one hand behind their back, the other outstretched to barely touch their palms together.

As the music begins to pick up, Bog brings her closer just as they practiced before they start to go into a full swing. With each flare of music, Marianne moves - a kick of her feet, a twirl. All while maintaining her hold on Bog’s arm.

The longer they dance, the more she realizes that - for the most part - everyone has parted away from the middle floor to leave them both the space that they need. Either they realized just how dangerous her kicks are or they do not want to get close to the Goblin King. Like a weight lifted, she realizes she does not care.

All that she can focus on, as the background blurs around them through spins, turns and careful steps, is the fact that Bog is not missing a beat. They move together like one through a series of classic, yet dramatic, dances. The music echoes in her chest as it pounds in her ear, she counts each beat as thinks about where she has to step next.

“Purple suits you,” Marianne comments softly when Bog brings her in close. Her hand moves from position to scrape her nail along the underside of his armor at his neck. He almost growls, but instead grins deviously.

“Your hand is not in the right place, princess.”

Marianne does not move her hand. She just grins, her hand briefly going to his face.

“I beg to differ, Bog King.”

She is lightly pushed away as they part, her going into a twirl before coming back into his arms. As their dance closes, Bog makes a point to dip her a bit deeper than customary with his face too close to hers to be mistaken for casual. His hand is tight at her waist, with no sign of letting go. As much as she tries to hide it, with them so close, he gets a good glimpse at the flush dusting her cheeks.

“You’re a pretty good dancer,” Marianne compliments as they part, Bog maintaining his hand on her waist.

Marianne does not miss the way that the others return to the dance floor as her and Bog leave it. Granted, some go back to the wine bar as soon as her sister stumbles her way to the floor with Sunny back in tow. But at the very least, she knows that their message got across - especially as she looks at her father, who looks two glasses away from passing out. Despite knowing that, and knowing the lecture she has in her future, she can not help but feel elated at just how much fun it was. Her heart racing, cheeks flushed, she hopes that the ball in the dark forest - an event only a few nights away from this one - will be just as fun.

Bog draws her in close, his teeth bared in a predatory dangerous smile.

“You did pretty well yourself, tough girl. Now, it’s my turn.”

__________________________________________________

Marianne is a little more worried over Griselda being in charge of her dress, however at Bog’s reassurances, she takes a deep breath and lets go of the reins. After all, who would know what is more appropriate for a goblin ball more than the previous queen? If she can put her trust and faith into Dawn, she can do the same for Griselda, especially after all that his mother has done for them (if in a bit embarrassing manner).

But, almost embarrassingly so, Marianne is left in the dark as to what to expect for the ball in the Dark Forest.

Her father tried to instill fear and caution in her over attending an event by herself, at night, in the Dark Forest, surrounded by goblins. Dawn tried to imagine something hauntingly beautiful, and made a few passing comments about Griselda enlisting her help with the dress to make sure it balanced goblin fashion and fairy well; though she complained more often than thought that she is unable to attend as the goblin ball, as she would be too busy attending the elves’ own soiree with Sunny.

Bog, however, would just give her teasing comments here and there about preparing herself to see just how different a real party is compared to the one that the fairies had. While that idea is exciting - thrilling - she is a bit nervous. Especially since she knows that, just like the one in the Fairy Kingdom, this event would also have other representatives from different sections of the Dark Forest and who knew what else. She knew that she could protect herself and that Bog would stand up for her presence there, but she still remembers just how scary it was when she first accidentally stepped into the Dark Forest and feels that same fear bubbling under her skin at the idea of being introduced to so many unknowns. She is sure that Bog felt the same anxiety, however, about attending the fairy ball.

And she also has to remind herself that this is what she wants. She wants to be kept on her toes. She wants the challenge. She wants to learn more about Bog and his world, just as he did the same for her. More importantly, this is exactly what she always dreamed of (with a few minor things changed here and there such as actually dating the Bog King).

Griselda helps put the finishing touches up on the dress. With Dawn gone to the elven ball, Griselda puts her all into making sure each detail is perfect a mere hour away from the event. The previous queen is already dressed - with jewelry adorning her horns, but lacking shoes - and Marianne can not help but wonder if she should expect the other goblins to be dressed in something similar - and if going without shoes is the norm.

“You look - beautiful,” Griselda gushes, brushing a tear away from her eye with her pinky claw, “Boggy is just going to love you - well, he already loves you dear, you know that, but when he sees you in this dress - I better be getting grandchildren out of this.”

Marianne flushes deeply, eyes darting around as she can only laugh a bit nervously at the sentiment, especially knowing that Griselda says it so sincerely. Griselda immediately, lightly, scolds her for fidgeting as she finishes sewing up one last spot to make it the perfect fit. Marianne catches glimpses of herself in the mirror - and more she looks at it, the more she falls in love with what Griselda and her sister have created.

“-Is it normal not to wear shoes,” Marianne asks, hesitantly as she eyes Griselda’s toes balancing her as she stands up on them to reach a specific spot. Marianne glances down to her own feet, wiggling her toes, unsure about how she feels about the possibility of dancing barefoot and the more fairy part of her is a little worried about just how dirty her feet would get. She also already knows how Bog’s thorns feel when they prick her finger, she can’t imagine what would happen if he stepped on her toes while barefoot.

“Goblins do not need shoes, honey,” Griselda explains gently, “Our skin is tough and we’re made for running through stones and bark and twigs, not soft dirt and flowers.”

She gently pinches at Marianne’s skin as if to emphasize her point, “But do not worry about it dearie, I made a pair of shoes - with your sister’s input mind you - that will work perfect for tonight.”

_____________________________________________

“Is she here yet,” Thang attempts to whisper, his voice harshly cutting out.

“No.” Stuff rolls her eyes, crossing her arms, “If Queen Marianne was here, we’d see her.”

“ Oh.”

Bog sighs deeply, trying to fight the incoming migraine as the two smaller goblins debate about whether or not Marianne is at the ball yet. He leans on his staff, tapping his foot impatiently as he debates about searching the castle himself for his mother and Marianne. He hopes, at the very least, his mother did not put something ridiculous on Marianne; she would look beautiful no matter what she wore, but his mother’s atrocious ideas of fashion are (at times) a bit much to swallow, especially at formal events. But even he is starting to get impatient over his mother taking too long.

He notices his mother arriving first; it is hard to not notice her. Unlike the fairy ball, with formalities and announcements, Griselda comes in loudly and proudly - immediately calling out to the old politicians that she recognizes, waving to them enthusiastically. Bog sighs at the way some of the others street clear of her as she plows her way through the dancing crowd just to say hi to any given person.

But then he turns to see Marianne. Gorgeous, stunning, beautiful Marianne. Looking as if she belongs to be there as any of them do. The black dress she wears has thin, translucent sleeves that wrap around her arms, connected to the dark collar at her neck, her dark purple wings looking more like an elegant cape behind her as her sword glimmers at her hip. He glances down and is surprised to see that instead of her normal cloth and vines around her feet, she instead wears shoes that look suspiciously like his armor just dyed; they match the armored bracelets at her wrists.

She looks every bit like the future Queen of the Dark Forest should be.

Marianne’s eyes meet his - the dark shadow around her eyelids highlighting the gleam in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks. She holds her head high as she walks to him, with most of the goblins parting out of her way while others linger to look at her in curiosity.

She tries her best to focus solely on Bog, remembering to keep her shoulders back and walk with the confidence that she needs right now. The dark, low lights of the cavern inside of the hollowed tree are unexpected - lit mostly by fireflies and moonlight that beams in through the skylight. She glimpses the various types of goblins around her - batlike ones whose arms reach to the ground to support their weight, ones with ears larger than their bodies or some larger than she thought goblins could even be. The diversity among them is so vastly different than that among the fairies, from their sizes to features, but she feels an odd sense of welcoming that all of them are Bog’s people.

The music is deeper than she anticipated - tight strings with an ominous undertone. As if it is background noise to an anticipated fight. She supposes that that is not entirely wrong, given that she remembers just how Bog taught her how to dance.

“Wow,” Thang whistles, the sound sharp and crass against the rugged music playing, “She looks pretty evil.”

Marianne raises a brow, nose scrunched at the compliment, She is but bites her cheek for now. She is used to the ‘compliments’ people give her - pretty, quirky, awkward. She is used to what Roland used to pass as compliments, but (especially knowing Thang) this does not feel backhanded. It does not even feel like an insult either. But if it is a compliment, she is not sure what exactly it is supposed to mean.

Bog immediately bows to her, causing Stuff and Thang to stumble, squawking in surprise as they do the same. From the corner of her eye, she can see the other goblins do the same. She feels a sense of honor and pride, as well as absolute adoration from Bog being as bold to do something that clearly meant a lot to his people.

“I believe it’s time to dance, tough girl,” Bog takes her hand as he stands up straight, “Do you remember what we practiced?”

Marianne bares her teeth in a wild grin. She remembers exactly how to do this. For as often as she practiced dancing with him for the fairy ball, they practiced twice as much for this. She knows that if something goes wrong someone could get hurt - and she can not imagine what would happen if that person was accidentally Bog.

But she has faith in herself - and in him. She thinks that she has a good enough handle on this to do it well.

“How could I not?”

Bog guides her to the floor with an elegance. At his presence, the goblins make a very clear circle around them to give them plenty of space. She would be more worried about hurting someone if they did not.

Bog gives a nod as they part, gaining a few feet between them. Unlike the close, slower and more calculated movements of the dance they performed at the fairy event, this one starts at a distance as they draw their weapons. They close in with his staff against her sword, circling each other as they bring their weapons down against each other.

“By the way,” Marianne asks softly, eyes still on him- each movement she makes feels natural to her, with her sword acting more like a third limb than a weapon. “Was that earlier?”

“Which part,” Bog almost laughs, but his voice comes off hesitant, “What did my mother do?”

“No - your mother was fine,” Marianne assures him as their weapons hit each other once again, twirling around like this - she can not help feel the parallel to their first fight. “I meant Thang.”

“Thang?”

They stumble - for a brief moment, their dance stutters in an awkward pause as their weapons slip out of their hands and into the air. Their staff and sword glide pass each other in a fumble. They move fast, and as one, to cover the mistake - grabbing each other’s weapon in an elegant switch that causes the crowd to gasp, not noticing it as a mistake and instead as (what Dawn would call) a power move, as they continue on.

“He called me evil.” Marianne states carefully, unsure if it would come off insulting and this time, she is careful to hold onto Bog’s staff. The weight of it is unfamiliar, if oddly comforting, but considering she practiced with only her weapon, her words come out a bit slower as she concentrates more on her movements. “Is that - I mean, is that a good thing or -?”

This time Bog does laugh - bellowing and deep, it echoes through the room as he grins madly at her. Their dance picks up the pace as their conversation blurs among the clash of her sword against his staff.

“Evil is a compliment in these parts, tough girl,” Bog explains, a wicked grin on his face, “Evil is not malicious - but of strength, mischief - rebellion.”

Marianne lets out a quiet oh. She supposes that makes sense, if she squints. To fairies, evil means darkness, malicious intent. But hearing his version of it, she wonders just how much their version of ‘evil’ is just based in prejudice against the Dark Forest.

They come together closer as their dance starts to slow, neither out of breath as everyone watches them carefully. Marianne can hear Griselda already clapping, but for once, Bog does not pay much mind to his mother’s embarrassing attention.

“And there is nothing - ” Bog states, his voice low and soft. Their weapons are down, still against each other as Bog leans into her, close to almost whispering into her ear, “- nothing more rebellious than a fairy princess and a goblin king.”

#krystalmoonfae #strange magic #fanfiction #politics #cultural differences #fairy goblin #bog king #marianne #ballroom #myworks #fics #fic

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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years

Text

feel the heat

prompt: overheating

whumpee: nick burkhardt

fandom: grimm

hi! welcome to my first fic for @summer-of-whump! i’m super excited to be doing this event and finally getting back into writing lmao. shit has been crazy but now i get to relax and beat up my faves :) hope you enjoy this one!

“It’s gonna be a hot one out there today, Portland,” announces the DJ on the car radio. “Temperatures are expected to rise into the high nineties and possibly even break 100, so stay cool if you can.”

Hank casts a glance at Nick, who even today is wearing his usual long-shirt-long-pants outfit. “You’re gonna melt, man,” he warns, making the turn that’ll lead them to their latest crime scene - a body at the top of Mt. Tabor Park, stabbed to death and discovered by a jogger early that morning.

Nick shrugs. “I’ll roll up my sleeves if it’s really that hot.” Privately, though, he has no intention of exposing his arms today. They’re covered in some fairly scary-looking and difficult-to-explain marks, courtesy of a run-in with, of all things, an unusually angry and confrontational Eisbiber. He’ll sacrifice a little discomfort in exchange for no one wondering what the hell kind of animal he’d gotten into a confrontation with.

They arrive at the park, climbing out of the car and into the sweltering midday heat. It’s a bit of a walk up the hill to their murder scene, and by the time they arrive Nick is already feeling the effects of his ill-chosen clothes. But there’s nothing that can be done about it now, so he pushes the discomfort aside and approaches the body.

‘Stabbed to death’ seems somehow like an understatement in this particular case. The body is absolutely covered in stab wounds, each one at least two inches long and the majority of them fairly deep. Someone had certainly been angry, or had wanted to be really sure that this person was dead.

“Damn,” Hank says, which sums up Nick’s feelings on the matter quite well. He takes a step closer to the body, then looks up suddenly as something catches his attention. It’s a person, he realizes, trying very hard to sneak away from the area unnoticed. But they must sense his attention, because all of a sudden they start running. Naturally, so does Nick.

Hank’s eye catches the movement at the same instant that Nick takes off running down the other side of the hill. Someone is racing off through the trees, dressed all in black and obviously fleeing something, presumably the police presence at the scene of the murder they committed. He starts running as well, and although Nick has a couple seconds and his Grimm-ness to his advantage, Hank catches up to him after no more than a minute, panting, with his hands braced on his knees. He’s definitely regretting his choice of clothes right now, Hank thinks, scanning the scenery around them for any signs of their possible killer.

“Lost them,” Nick voices Hank’s thoughts as he straightens up. He gives Hank a rueful sort of half-smile and then takes a look at the hill they’ve just run down. He really wishes that they didn’t have to climb back up it. He feels sort of...odd. Weirdly dizzy, and way too tired for the fairly small amount of running he’s just done. That’s probably not good, he thinks, and then starts the unavoidable walk back up.

Hank walks beside Nick, who is walking at a slower pace than normal. He wonders why in the hell Nick doesn’t roll up his sleeves, or at the very least undo the top button of his Henley. Hank himself is hot and more than a little uncomfortable in his t-shirt and lightweight pants, and he can only imagine how much more uncomfortable Nick must be. Maybe it’s a Grimm thing, he figures. Maybe Nick is less sensitive to extreme temperatures, or something.

Nick so desperately wishes that Grimms were resistant to the heat. But if anything, it feels like he’s more susceptible to it. The air is like a thick blanket wrapped way too tightly around his body, slowly suffocating him, cutting off the air to his lungs and making him feel like he might just collapse at any second. He imagines his choice of clothes today is also not helping, but his arms feel too weak to reach up and undo a button, and the sleeves are a non-starter regardless. At least they’re almost to the top of the hill…

Nick and Hank step back into the main part of their crime scene just as the techs are packing up. Wu waves them over from where he’s standing next to a bench, looking at something in his notebook. “We’re just about done here, unless you guys noticed anything else while you were running away?”

Hank waits for Nick to tell Wu about the person they’d seen fleeing, but after a second it becomes clear that Nick must be expecting Hank to speak, so he says, “we saw someone running off down the hill. We followed them, but they got away. I didn’t get a good look - just that they were dressed all in black. Did you get a better look?” He turns to Nick with the question.

Nick shakes his head once, then immediately stops when the world starts spinning. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, pushing down a sudden, intense wave of dizziness and nausea. Something is wrong, he thinks, but he has no idea what it is.

“Nick? You good?”

Nick opens his eyes at Wu’s question. “Yeah,” he manages to say. He thinks he should probably elaborate a little, but he really doesn’t have the energy.

“O...kay,” Wu says, glancing between Nick and Hank like he’s maybe missed something. Hank, for his part, is looking at Nick, who is looking a little bit off. His face is pale, his eyes are unfocused, and he generally looks kind of miserable. But before he can ask Nick whether he’s really okay, Wu is continuing.

“If that’s all you guys saw, I’ll let the Captain know. I don’t know how much we’ll be able to do with ‘running figure, dressed all in black,’ but it’s something.” He pauses for a second, wipes a hand across his forehead. “They must be crazy, wearing head-to-toe black in this heat. Now, I think I’m gonna retreat to the air conditioning in my patrol car, if you don’t mind.”

With that, Wu heads off, meandering down the path to where his car is parked.

“Let’s follow him,” Hank says, starting off after Wu. “Some air conditioning sounds pretty damn good to me right now.”

Nick tries to follow him, but his legs feel like they’ve suddenly turned into lead. “Hank,” he says, reaching out a hand to try and tap Hank’s retreating shoulder.

He misses wildly, obviously, but Hank turns around anyway. “You okay?”

Talking feels like the most difficult task in the world, but after a moment of intense concentration, Nick is able to string a few words together. “I feel…”

How does he feel again? Oh. Right.

“Really bad.”

His knees choose that exact moment to buckle, and fortunately Hank has also chosen that moment to hurry back over to Nick. He catches him before he hits the ground, then wraps an arm around Nick to keep him standing.

This close, he knows something isn’t right. Nick is shaking, and far sweatier than he should be, even considering his warm clothes and recent physical activity. Hank puts a hand to the side of his neck and feels Nick’s pulse, which is absolutely racing beneath his fingers. His skin is strangely cold to the touch. Heat exhaustion.

“We need to cool you down,” Hank says firmly, moving his arm to wrap around Nick’s waist as he begins walking towards the car.

“Wha’s happening?” Nick mumbles, his feet dragging along the ground. He tries to make them move, but they refuse. He feels so bad.

“You have heat exhaustion, and if we don’t cool you down, you’re going to have to go to the hospital. This turns into heatstroke and it can kill you,” Hank says, reaching into his pocket with the hand that’s not currently preventing Nick from faceplanting into the ground and grabbing his keys.

Nick catches the words “exhaustion,” “cool,” and “hospital,” and immediately uses what little strength he currently possesses to try and pull away from Hank. “No hospital,” he says pleadingly. He hates the hospital.

“You won’t have to go to the hospital as long as you cool off,” Hank repeats. He pushes the unlock button on the keys. “We’re almost to the car, and then you can sit down and we’ll turn on the air conditioning and get you some water.”

“‘Kay,” Nick agrees, again having heard approximately half of Hank’s words but getting the general sense of what they mean, which essentially boils down to no hospital, which is more than good enough for him.

They reach the car at long last, and Hank carefully leans Nick against the side of it as he opens the passenger door. He guides Nick inside and closes him in, then circles around the front of the car and gets into the driver’s seat, wincing at the stagnant heat trapped in the car. He quickly turns on the engine and cranks the air conditioning on full blast, slamming his door. That done, he leans into the backseat, searching for the water bottle that he knows he’d left in there the other day. He finds it underneath the seats and pulls it free triumphantly, then hands it to Nick.

“It’s gonna be warm, but it’s better than nothing. Drink it all,” he instructs.

Nick doesn’t say anything, but his shaking hands twist off the cap, and he drinks the whole bottle. It is unpleasantly warm, as Hank had warned, but it feels like the best thing in the entire world anyway. He actually starts to feel a little bit better, and cautiously opens his eyes.

And promptly shuts them when the world starts spinning again. ‘A little bit better’ from ‘really bad’ is still pretty bad, evidently.

“Try putting your head down,” Hank says, gently prying the empty bottle from Nick’s hands. “It might help with the dizziness.”

Nick complies, resting his head between his knees and trying to take a few deep breaths. He feels Hank reach across him and buckle his seatbelt, and then they’re moving, and he’s suddenly very glad that he’s already in the anti-dizziness position.

“Where we going?” he asks quietly, when he feels somewhat like he can speak.

“My place,” Hank says. It had seemed like the easiest option. It’s closer to the park than Nick and Juliette’s, and certainly closer than the precinct or Monroe and Rosalee’s. He answers the question he’s sure Nick would be asking if he felt up to it. “I texted Wu and told him. He said he’d let Renard know that we’d both be taking off early today.”

Ordinarily, Nick would argue against this decision, try to insist that he is fine and fully capable of going back to work. But honestly, he feels so far from fine right now, and the thought of lying down on Hank’s couch with the fan going and a nice cold glass of water sounds like heaven. So just this once, he doesn’t fight it. He lets Hank take care of him.

thanks for reading this! i hope you enjoyed :) i did a lot of research on temperatures and heat exhaustion and whatnot for this and had a good time lol. also i feel the need to say idk if we ever know where hank lives so the part ab him living closer to the park is just made up on my part.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump1 #grimm #nick burkhardt #hot #heat exhaustion #my writing #i say things #okokok me time! i graduated high school a little bit ago! which is so crazy to me.#so now i have my whole summer to write whump (and prepare for college yikes)#but also wanna say: was very excited to add in the location here! i went there so i was like oh i have to kill someone here :)#also in a way nick in this fic reminds me of a younger me #i used to wear jeans and sweatshirts Year Round and its hot as balls here for the majority of the year #how i never got any kind of heat exhaustion type thing i never know #i used to ride my bike everywhere too. in the july heat in my sweatshirt and jeans #idk man.#anyway thats enough from me #hope you are having a very lovely night if you read all that :)

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meimi-haneoka · 3 years

Note

While we see a comparison with SyaoSaku and Akiho/Kaito (They might need a ship name soon), there is also this interesting contrast. Even though SyaoSaku still needs to work on communication, they do have that great level of trust when they do interact. With Akiho/Kaito, we see them having casual conversation with little issue. But when things get serious or concerning, there is some level of dismissiveness and gaslighting from Kaito, much to Momo and all of our detriments.

Thank you very much for posing this question anon, as I think I haven’t said everything I wanted to say in my analysis post, and I will use this space to ramble a little bit more about “that side” of the parallelism in this last chapter...

(long rambling under the cut)

First thing first, they do already have a ship name! :D The japanese fandom has named them “YunaAki”. Why they chose “Yuna” over “Kaito” is not clear, it seems it sounded better. After all, we don’t know which is the given name and which is the last name. As it’s a fake name, it probably doesn’t matter.

Yes, I totally agree with you. I think, probably the whole meaning of the chapter was to show how different can be the outcome for two similar situations, if you keep your heart shut and don’t trust the person you’re supposed to care for.

As you said, Syaoran and Sakura still have some minor communication issues going on, but they’re working on them and they are solving the situation, this chapter was another proof of that. It’s incredible to think that most of the resistance actually comes from Sakura, but...

Syaoran has accepted and decided to be frank with Sakura, to the point of being even too blunt, sometimes. Sakura, instead, keeps sweeping her negative emotions under the carpet, but Syaoran is slowly pulling her out of that behavioral pattern.

What do we have on the other side, the YunaAki side?

We have, first of all, two battered souls who are trying to cope with their past, each in their own way.

One is doing her best to leave her past behind, with a positive attitude, and doesn’t let the occasional moments of discomfort to halt her progress. She might trip and fall because certain scars are simply too deep to heal in such a short time, but we see Akiho being stronger and stronger, everyday.

One...is basically just doing what Sakura does, sweeps everything under the carpet, the problem is that he doesn’t do that only with the negative emotions, he does that with everything. Even the emotions that are supposed to give him joy and happiness. He’s completely, impossibly shut in himself, and doesn’t let anyone in, not even the creature who is supposed to be his ally in his “quest”.

It’s very important to keep in consideration Akiho’s and Kaito’s pasts, when analyzing their behavior, because their pasts still have great influence on their mindsets. Akiho struggles to let go the “I’m good for nothing” mentality that her clan has engraved so deeply into her heart, while Kaito thinks he’s still that brooding, dull, aloof kid who used to walk down the hallways of the Association all alone, watched from a distance by all the other magicians.

In this chapter, those behavioral patterns came out completely in the sunlight.

But while Akiho took her own patterns and decided “I don’t want to be this way, I’ve already changed so much because of you and I want to help you in return”, activating a sort of “positive response”, Kaito saw her getting closer and insisted in barricading himself behind that thin wall that he’s built around his heart.

It’s not by chance that I wanted to make the parallel with the SyaoSaku situation more obvious with the use of the “knocking on the door” metaphor, since that’s really what I felt when I’ve read the chapter.

We have a boy and a girl in love with someone and seeing that loved one in pain. Both kids try to be of help because they can’t stand to see them bearing all the burden alone.

And that’s when trust comes into the picture.

I am saying trust, and not love, because I do think Kaito loves Akiho (and here I have to specify again that we don’t know what kind of love is, but at the very least he has affection for her).

While Sakura trusts Syaoran to the point of not losing faith in him even when he revealed to be the one who took the Sakura Cards, or even despite all the dreams with MCF Syaoran she’s having, Kaito doesn’t trust Akiho. He cannot trust her. He’s too afraid of what would entail to let Akiho closer than the safe distance they have right now.

There are many reasons for this.

One, the most obvious: he’s about to die. He is going to die and that, in his mind, is a certainty, because he needs to save her before it’s too late, and even if the time rewindings won’t kill him, probably the last taboo magic will.

There’s absolutely no point, in his head, to get closer to her.

Two, actually accepting her offer for help would mean that at some point he would have to explain why he’s so worn out, and all that’s behind it. With that, he would inflict on her a pain even greater than the one he’s living on his skin. He has carefully avoided to let her know *any* thing about the terrible spell that is at work on her, in order to give her a life as normal as possible, and he wouldn’t nullify that for anything in the world.

Three, he’s terribly afraid of human connections. To the point of turning himself blind to the beating and stirring of his heart. He’s still convinced that he doesn’t have a heart, just like when he was in the Association.

But Momo was clear: no matter how strong you are, or what kind of life you live, no one can ever stay the same, if they’re given the trigger to change. And Kaito has already had that, when he decided on that fateful day, “I’ll go”.

He just has to stop refusing to admit it.

It was painful to see him going in circles, in hope to avoid where Momo was getting at in chapter 51, and the saddest thing of it all is that it seems this is an automatic behavior, he seemed genuinely confused when Momo said “You missed something”. “Missed”, past tense.

Akiho is terribly scary to him, when she runs on her assertiveness and starts making questions. This was obviously not the first time and he knows that she’s damn observant when she wants. Everytime Kaito changed expression, everytime something was wrong with him, she always caught on.

Dammit, she loves him, what else is she supposed to do? She can’t turn a blind eye on him.

But this is all too scary for him, because she demands a connection he’s afraid of. Letting someone inside of you means to see your comfortable, perfect, reassuring bubble getting turned upside down, because in a relationship of any kind, you are two, not one. Each with their own expectations, behaviors, personalities. While he has already changed his lifestyle to adapt to one that would be healthy for Akiho, he isn’t definitely ready (or so he thinks) to change his heart. And that’s why, when Akiho mentions that she has changed parts of her thanks to him, he is definitely triggered and literally runs away, interrupting her attempt to tell him “I’m here for you. Let me in. Tell me what’s wrong”.

He doesn’t want to hear that she changed thanks to him, because that would force him to realize that he’s changed too, thanks to her. And what’s more scary than aknowledging that you’re not the same person anymore, that you already have a seat ready in your heart with her name on it?

His feelings are most apparent in the “stupidest” things, like going all the way to cook character bento only for her (that's definitely, definitely, not a butler’s duty), or let nonchalantly slip “because it’s you” without even realizing what that implies (and making Akiho blush furiously) (talking only manga side here, the anime had one huge display of what he feels and we all know which scene it is).

You can well understand why Momo feels so frustrated with him, when the situation is in plain sight and yet he turns a blind eye on it.

So gaslighting and dismissive, we were saying. That’s his defensive reaction because he actually feels like the one attacked, in that moment.

And when he realizes that lies don’t work, he just panics, and instead of elaborating a better lie, he totally cuts her short and runs away. He could’ve said “Thanks Akiho-san, but I’m fine, really”. But no.

That explains quite well why he was shaking, after that. I know CLAMP have skillfully thrown that symptom among his conditions worsening, as soon as he left Akiho’s room, so everyone thinks he was shaking because he’s in terrible shape, and maybe it’s partly true, but I don’t think he would’ve been surprised, if the trembling was caused by his health. He knows he’s dying. He doesn’t wonder why he has heart attacks, he knows what causes them.

Instead, with this, he’s so confused that he even slightly laughs, like he can’t believe what he’s actually feeling.

This is gonna be a rough journey, for Kaito (and for us), because the more he goes on and the more his time narrows down, the more he seems on the brink of insanity. He needs someone interrupting this slippery slope by force, someone who understands where he is coming from, and understands his biggest problem of turning away his eyes from his heart.

Y’all know who I am talking about, right? :D

#cardcaptor sakura #Card Captor Sakura #ccsakura #yunaaki #reply #yuna d. kaito #akiho shinomoto #clear card spoilers #ccs spoilers #chapter 52 #Anonymous

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king-finnigan · 4 years

Note

For the drabble 11 & 27,please :)

Situation 11: Soulmates AU Sentence 27: “Sorry. You’re just…really adorable.”

***

Jaskier hates flowers. He really does. He understands how people can see the beauty in them, he understands how they symbolize sharing hurt and how their delicate petals represent the fragility of life and stuff, but he’s really fucking tired of seeing them grow out of his skin over and over again.

He’d been excited as a kid, when he first learned that your soulmate’s wounds appear on your skin as flowers after you turn 16. He’d admired the few small flowers that adorned his teacher’s skin, the delicate petals that grew out of his father’s fingers every time his mother accidentally pricked herself with her needle while embroidering a dress. He’d made up elaborate fantasies about what his arms would look like with flowers on them, would try to think of which flower he wanted to appear on his skin, the first time, would imagine pricking himself on a needle and making a flower appear on his soulmate’s skin, as a little ‘hello, I am here’.

But that was before he actually turned 16. Before his excitement died down when he grew more and more flowers on his skin the following days. Of course, they would wilt and fall off if his soulmate’s wound had healed, which happened remarkably quickly, but that didn’t make up for the sheer quantity of the flowers. Truly, they were everywhere - on his arms, legs, on his face, on his back - and he even coughed up some petals a few times, as he wondered what the absolute hell his soulmate got up to in their spare time.

And the worst part of this wasn’t the flowers themselves, it wasn’t having to clean his room every day of wilted petals, it wasn’t having to pull on his clothes over the flowers, feeling them pull at his skin uncomfortably, it wasn’t even the worry as to what was going on with his soulmate that they got hurt so often and abundantly.

No, the worst part was the staring. Everywhere he went, from the day he turned 16 and the flowers had bloomed on his skin, people stared at him. Either they were giving him pitiful looks or curious glances, or whispered to each other as they looked at him from a distance. Hell, at least kids were giving him glances that were more admiring and slightly wondrous, but they, too, were staring. Everyone was always fucking staring.

Eventually, he’d gotten enough, and had set out on the road, newly bought lute in hand, flowers tucked under his doublet uncomfortably. Might as well give them a reason to stare, he figured.

That still didn’t stop him from feeling slightly uncomfortable as people didn’t even look him in the eyes, instead directing their gaze to the numerous flowers adorning his skin. It actually even got a bit worse - people would now feel welcome to reach out and tug at the flowers, for some reason, making his skin pull uncomfortably. He wasn’t hesitant to punch them in the face whenever that happened, and he didn’t feel sad for their soulmates, who were undoubtedly sneezing petals out of their noses.

He now finds himself in a tavern in Posada, getting food thrown at him. Well, at least it’s better than rocks, he supposes, like some kids did yesterday, calling him a ‘flowery freak’. Not the worst insult he’s ever heard, but it had hurt all the same when he’d gotten a rock against his head. The wound on the side of his head is still a bit fresh, but healing, luckily.

He picks some bread off the floor, stuffing it in his pockets, cringing slightly when the movement bends the flowers on his hip, making them pull at his skin uncomfortably. He looks up, spots a stranger with white hair in the corner, and immediately the ‘interesting thing’-alarms are ringing in the back of his head.

As he makes his way over to the stranger, he notices that the man is wearing black armour, that he has two swords leaning against the wall next to him, and is absolutely devoid of any flowers. Strange. Either this man no longer has a soulmate, or his soulmate is very careful. He does seem to brandish some bruises and cuts and numerous scars, and Jaskier pities the man’s soulmate - they must be as covered in flowers as he himself is.

He leans against one of the wooden pillars holding the roof up. “Love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

“I’m here to drink alone,” the man rumbles, refusing to meet Jaskier’s eye.

“Good, yeah, good. No one else has hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, except... for you.” He moves to stand in front of the man, who casts one look at Jaskier, before looking away again. Strange. Usually people don’t hesitate to openly stare at him, or do look away but seem startled or disturbed. This man, on the other hand, seems unbothered. “Come on, you don’t wanna keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. Give me a review. Three words or less.”

He sits down opposite the strange man, who rolls his shockingly amber eyes. “They don’t exist.” The words barely register in his mind, when he sees that the man has a small flower, on the right side of his head. Oh, so he does have a soulmate.

He almost forgets to answer, and blinks his thoughts away. “What don’t exist?”

“The monsters in your song.”

“And how would you know?” Wait a minute. “Oh, fun. White hair, big ol’ loner, two very-” he swallows thickly “very scary-looking swords. I know who you are. You’re the Witcher. Geralt of Rivia.”

The man- Witcher, doesn’t respond, and Jaskier looks at him for a second. “Do you have a soulmate?”

Geralt frowns at him.

“Do you have a soulmate?” Jaskier repeats. “Because I’d imagine they must be covered in flowers, just-” He frowns as the realization from earlier starts to set in a little more. “Just like I am.”

Geralt looks at him, and Jaskier grows skittish under that intense gaze. “What are you staring at me for? Hmm?” He’s so fucking tired of always being stared at, and this man had been a breath of fresh air, with the way he refused to look at Jaskier and didn’t seem too taken aback by the entire bouquets growing on his skin. So having him staring at Jaskier feels all the more annoying.

“Sorry,” the Witcher mumbles, looking out of the window again. “You’re just... really adorable,” he whispers, almost inaudibly, and Jaskier has the feeling he wasn’t meant to hear the words.

This Geralt-guy doesn’t seem too bad, Jaskier decides, and he actually wouldn’t mind being this Witcher’s soulmate. At least then there’d be a good reason for him to be covered in flowers - after all, a Witcher’s job is dangerous - and he wouldn’t have to worry about the fact that his soulmate gets beaten up on the regular. He supposes it would also explain the fact that his flowers wilt and fall off more quickly than they’re supposed to, so that’d be a mystery out of the way, and-

His eyes drift to the flower on the side of Geralt’s head, in the exact same spot Jaskier got hit by that rock, yesterday. Wait a minute.

He narrows his eyes at the Witcher. “Do you, by any chance, have a flower on the inside of your left ankle, Witcher?” Geralt looks at him again, seems startled.

“Yes. Why?”

“Because I hit my left ankle last week and got a bruise. I- I... got a cut on my head yesterday. There’s a flower on your head. And you seem like you’ve gotten a lot of injuries, all your life, and I...” He lifts up his arms, flowers peeking from under his sleeves, motions at his neck, at the petals around his throat, then waves at the rest of himself.

“What are you saying?” The Witcher grumbles at him.

Jaskier leans forward. “I think we’re soulmates, Geralt of Rivia.”

***

Send me a situation and a sentence, and I’ll write a drabble!

#Anonymous #squish answers #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #drabble #taking requests for these until thursday 23/07 #also i'll try to get them done within 24 hours of getting them #but please be patient with me #there are 3 prompts for yesterday i am yet to do #but i am so Tired #I am going to sleep #Goodnight!

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nowoyas · 4 years

Text

Floriography 3

First - Previous - Next

A/N: sleeby and sick pls take this i’m gonna go back to dying now

Chapter Summary: You reconvene with Izuku, and then prepare to leave for your trip.

Warnings: shitty dad... TWO

Word count: 3200+

Izuku finds you easily, with practiced speed thanks to how often he's had to find you to send you letters (and now, teleport himself to you).

"Everything alright, my prince? I hope my father wasn't too... himself, he has a tendency towards the rude." You worry your bottom lip as Izuku takes a moment to breathe.

"No, it's okay," he says finally, exhaling slowly. "I've dealt with worse, as much as I hate to admit it."

"What did he have to say? You weren't gone terribly long..."

"Just to repeat himself and say it's my head if you get hurt. Oh, but he gave his approval for the trip, so long as your knight accompanies us as well! My father will likely want to inspect him ahead of time to ensure it isn't a plot after my head and that he's truly competent enough to be in a royal detail–no offense, my father requires absolute control when it comes to details, especially matters of safety–but I've no doubt that such a small condition will be accepted. He probably expects something like that, honestly."

You frown. "I see. So some form of loyalty check... Eijirou, think you're up for all that?"

He snaps to attention, nodding. "Of course, your highness."

You want to smile, be excited for the chance to get out of the palace and see parts of the world, but your mood remains soured from earlier. "Well, I'm glad you're not too bothered, at least."

"What about you?"

You flinch, the tiniest gasp leaving your throat. "Um?"

"Sorry, I just... I noticed how upset you looked when your dad was... you know..."

You rub your elbows, sighing. "I'm fine. I just... forgot my place for a bit, is all. Let myself get... snappy, or whatever."

"Oh, please don't say that," Izuku says, hand shaking slightly before it settles on yours. "I don't think you really did anything wrong."

"Don't tell my father, but I'm actually pretty good with a sword," you blurt, flustered at the sudden touch. "I doubt I'm anything special, but I've been learning in secret since childhood. Eijirou has been teaching me a lot. And I really am good with magic. I don't want you thinking bringing me along on this is going to be some mistake, or you'll just be protecting me the whole time. I don't think that would be fair to either of us."

He smiles. "Well then, you'll have to show me once we've left on our trip. Most of the days will be spent traveling, with frequent breaks, so I'm sure we'll find the time! If you'd like, I-I could even give you a few pointers? That is, if you're interested in improving..."

"I'd love that, actually! Eijirou, you won't tell, right?"

Eijirou nods, flashing you a smile and a thumbs up. "No need to worry about me, your highness. I'm sure you'll learn better from your future husband, anyway!"

Your cheeks tinge pink at the thought. "R-right! Well, um, I should probably ask... When, exactly, should I expect to be leaving for this trip by?"

"Ah, it begins a week from now. I'll send you a letter tomorrow with the kind of clothes you'll want to have prepared and how much is recommended to bring along, though I expect my father will want to gift you something, if for no other reason than a show of power."

You nod pensively. "Alright. I'll be sure to notify my parents and arrange for everything I'll need. Thank you for including me in this, Izuku."

One of his hands finds yours, strikingly warm and the rough skin contrasting against how smooth your own is. You suppose that's likely the result of his combat training. "I... If it's alright, may I..."

You swallow thickly, nodding as he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. He smiles up at you as he leans down. "Kacchan and I should be returning now, but I look forward to our next meeting, my highness." He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing an uncertain kiss against your knuckles. Your free hand rests against your chest as you blush.

"I-I look forward to hearing from you, my prince," you stammer back as he drops your hand. He gives a cute little wave before turning back to his knight. You watch as their teleport runes wash over them, waving back even after Izuku's turned his back. When they disappear, you release a sigh you'd been withholding, finally allowing yourself to properly short-circuit slightly from Izuku's kiss.

"Are you all right, your highness?" Eijirou asks, sounding nothing short of amused as you stare at your knuckles where he kissed your hand.

You snap out of it. "Yes, of course. Everything is—in order, I suppose. Yeah. I'm all right."

Whatever Eijirou has to do to prove his loyalty and merit, you aren't allowed to know of it. Your knight is replaced with another for a day that isn't one of his normal two (you'd insisted on giving him weekends off from following you around), and when he returns, he's got a new wound on his face that he refuses to let you heal with a bright smile. He merely tells you that his Majesty King Hisashi has deemed him fit to accompany you and your fiancé on your travels.

In the meantime, you've continued your routine of exchanging letters and flowers with Izuku, though the letters grow longer from both of you with things like hobbies, preferences, and, most recently, you've begun exchanging book recommendations. (Izuku promised to bring his favorite book along on the trip if you'll also bring yours.) Every letter has contained at least one paragraph of talk about the upcoming trip—you, having been mostly sheltered and not having had many opportunities to explore outside the palace. He'd asked how your knight was holding up after his day being scrutinized (and failed to elaborate on what, exactly, he'd done to prove his loyalty and prowess as being up to snuff), and you'd answered truthfully.

He'd even given you pointers on things that would make the upcoming endeavor to sleep outside easier on you—both in avoiding back pain in the morning and actually falling asleep to begin with. He was kind in his advice, and truth be told, you appreciated every speck of it. (If you took separate notes, that's between you and the moon and absolutely no one else.)

The day of your departure comes all too soon and nowhere near soon enough–you're constantly vacillating between fully prepared, excited, and in absolute terror at the thought. It hasn't quite sunk in yet that you'll be spending nearly three weeks with Izuku (give or take six knights) and spending the night outside most of those nights.

With your hair all wrangled into a braid by your ever-attentive attendants and makeup foregone (you won't have the time nor the space to be applying it yourself while on the road), you slip the promised book into your bag and send off one last letter. You'd agreed to meet after having your breakfast, and you'd awoken early enough that you have plenty of time to write Izuku one final letter. It's not as though you can miss your morning letter for something like this, after all!

My dearest Izuku,

I hope the morning finds you well, and that your rest has been kind. This morning finds me bubbling with anticipation–I'm not even certain what I'm most excited for. This letter will be short–after all, I will be seeing you in person soon. I simply couldn't afford yet another shake to my morning routine; the fact that I'm not wearing makeup is both scary and thrilling enough without writing you before breakfast.

In any case, I haven't forgotten the promise we've made, and have ensured that I have with me a copy of the book for you to read. I hope you'll uphold yours as well. Eijirou and I will be seeing you soon. :)

Yours,

[Name]

You carefully blow on the last of the ink to allow it to dry, and, when you're sure it's safe to, carefully fold the paper into thirds and hold it between two fingers, searching with your heart for Izuku's distant presence.

Sending letters has gotten much easier over the time since you've met him–Izuku's runic energy always seems to seek you when you search for it, reaching out for whatever you'll send him as if he knows it's on its way. (Perhaps it's because he does.) The moment you find that familiar sensation of lemongrass and peaches, you're calling forth the energy to send the letter on its way.

After breakfast, you can hardly contain yourself. Eijirou seems to be on the same page–he finishes eating not long after, and with one final farewell (and brief lecture) from your parents, you're seeking out Izuku's energy once again for a teleport, this time directly.

You find it without issue. You grab Eijirou's wrist to direct him, and then both of you are off, runes warping your vision and carrying you away to the neighboring kingdom.

You land softly, two warm hands steadying you as the runes scatter. When you open your eyes, you're met with familiar green, and you can't help but smile. "My sincerest apologies if you've been waiting long." You curtsy slightly, almost bouncing up with how light you feel. Clothes for travel are so much lighter than your daily wear! Wearing only two layers almost feels naughty. "My parents wished to bid me farewell, and my father was certain to give me a lecture on the usual. Make responsible decisions, act as before one of your stature, stay in line, et cetera."

Izuku laughs warmly. "He's probably never going to quit with that, you know."

"I know, and it's infuriating."

"If it's any consolation, you'll get to relax a bit after we leave. First..." He frowns. "His Majesty wants to speak with you before we go. I don't know what about, so all I can really advise you is to let him think you consider him above you. He's very particular about control."

"I see. Thanks for the advice. Where should I...?"

"Ah, let me lead you!" He glances over his shoulder. "F-fill in Princess [name]'s knight while we're gone!"

Izuku is careful in the way he leads you down the hall, walking a measured distance from you without really leaving your side, and honestly, his nervous energy is starting to feed you nervous energy.

To your mild surprise, you're not led to the throne room or anything of that matter, but rather, what appears to be King Hisashi's personal study. Izuku pats your shoulder comfortingly, staring at his father's back for just a moment before he speaks.

"Your Majesty," he says, and wow you hate hearing him call his father that, "Princess [name] has arrived. I've brought her to speak with you like you requested."

"Thank you. You may leave now. I'll send her on to join you once I've finished my chat with her."

You hate the way he doesn't bother looking at either of you. You hate the way he stands tall, as if he's trying to minimize your presence in the room, and the way his voice leaves not a smidgen of room for any contrary thought.

Most of all, you hate the way he's so obviously a king before he's a father.

Izuku bites his lip for a moment. His hand lingers on your arm just a moment longer as he speaks. "Yes, your Majesty."

And just like that, your fiancé has left, leaving you to stand there, alone, with King Hisashi.

"I apologize for my unsuitable attire, your Majesty," you say evenly amid the silence. "Had I known you'd request to speak with me before my departure, I would have come dressed for an audience."

"For this time, at least," he begins, still not bothering to look at you, "I am willing to let that go."

This time, he says, as if this is in any way your fault. As if he can expect you to always be prepared for an audience with the king, even though you were told you'd be leaving immediately for your trip once you arrived and things were set.

You remain silent.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I've requested to see you, Princess."

"You'd be correct, your Majesty."

"The answer should be obvious, shouldn't it?" His tone is condescending. Like you didn't bring it up. "You're to be my daughter in a few months, and yet we've hardly spoken."

"That's true, your Majesty." Keep a level head. You're speaking to the most notoriously ill-tempered king in history. Keep a level head.

"I was... surprised when Izuku suggested your accompaniment during his travels. It's rare that he ever requests anything, you see."

"Izuku did?" You raise an eyebrow. But, you'd thought... "I was under the impression that it was your request, your Majesty."

"Did he tell you that?" Hisashi shakes his head as though he's disappointed, though you couldn't fathom why. "I do wish he'd learn to be up front with his desires. He came to me requesting permission to invite you along and insisting that he'd take care of any and all negotiations necessary with your parents to make it happen, though I'll admit he had very good reasoning for it, as he tends to do."

You nod, clasping your hands in front of you politely as you try to get a read on this man. He's impervious, if you're being honest. The way he speaks is consistently final in a way you don't understand, as if every sentence is meant to finish the conversation, and he hardly spares you a glance when he speaks. Aside from the occasional moments in which he dares to give you just a glimpse of body language, he seems perfectly neutral, staring ahead out his window as if he's not actively having a conversation.

"If I might ask a question, your Majesty?"

Oh, that actually gets his attention. He turns his whole head to you, dark eyes searching your face curiously. "Interesting. No one ever asks me questions. I'm intrigued; go ahead."

"What made you decide to choose me as Izuku's betrothed? There's hardly any tensions between our kingdoms in comparison to other neighboring kingdoms, who surely have better suited princesses than I. My parents said that you were the one who approached them about this arrangement, so clearly you had a reason for choosing our kingdom and me over the others. I simply can't fathom what that reason is. Your Majesty."

A smile flitters across his lips, which you get the sense is a rarity in itself. He turns back to the window, gesturing for you to stand beside him. You take the place he silently demands of you, uncertain as to what he's trying to do. "What do you see out this window, my dear?"

His dear? You want to laugh. Still, you peer out the window with curious eyes. It's angled just perfectly so that you can see the preparations for departure taking place below–Izuku is speaking with Eijirou and the other knights, though from this distance, you can only guess as to what.

"I see... Izuku speaking with the knights that have been chosen to accompany and guard us on this journey."

"What about? Does Izuku seem confident? Does he seem like a ruler to you?"

You bite your lip. "Well... It's impossible to determine the subject matter, though I can assume he's instructing them in finishing preparations for our departure, or perhaps he's reminding them of our itinerary. I'm also too far away to see Izuku's face or hear his voice, so how he's acting is all up to conjecture."

"Humor me. How do you think he's addressing the knights?"

"If it's Izuku... He's addressing them as a prince, I suppose. One who is perhaps unsure of himself, but refuses to let that show in front of most others." You pause. "I thought this during our first meeting, but he speaks the way I'd imagine a second son to speak, rather than the heir to the throne. Not that I believe that to be a bad thing."

"Correct. And what do you make of your fiancé?"

So many questions. You have to wonder where he's going with this. "It's hard to say for certain, since we haven't had much opportunity to spend time together, but... I know, at least, that Izuku is an extraordinarily kind person. I have been afforded plenty of respect, as I'm sure you can imagine, but I've never been shown compassion before speaking with Izuku. Where arranged marriages are concerned, I don't believe I can imagine a more ideal future husband."

"And yet, what good is kindness to a king? Will compassion win Izuku any wars? Will being kind gain Izuku any respect as a king?"

"I think he'll be a well-loved king, known for showing humanity to his subjects despite his station." Your tone is clipped, eyes turning sharp as you begin to understand what direction King Hisashi is taking this in. "I fail to see why this means I must be his wife."

"Things like 'compassion' and 'humanity' won't make my son a king, Princess [name]. All they will make is a royal doormat."

"Your son will make a wonderful king when you have passed," you force out through gritted teeth. Maintain your composure. Keep a level head.

King Hisashi chuckles as if you've said something funny, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, he will. You were chosen as his wife because my own wife has informed me that you will make my weak son into a proper king. I expect you to do so, and I think you'll find that what I expect happens sooner or later."

Oh, it is so very hard not to glare at him. So hard, in fact, that you don't bother trying. You level your best glare at King Hisashi, hands clenched into fists at your sides. "I think you'll find that your son's 'weakness' is the result of being raised with no room for growing into his own will."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it is." Yeah, that's right, you fucking said it. Adrenaline bum rushes your veins as you make brief eye contact with the king.

"And how do you plan on raising your son, when the time comes?"

You raise your chin. No backing down now. "That is a conversation I will have to have with Izuku. However, our child will be allowed to treat us as parents."

King Hisashi hums thoughtfully as he gazes out over the courtyard. "I simply want what's best for my son. So long as you make him into the strong king I know he can be, feel free to raise my grandson however you wish."

"I won't be making Izuku into anything," you hiss out, "and I don't need your approval on how to raise my future children, your Majesty."

Before Hisashi can deliver another cool, collected, demanding response, you turn to exit the room, sparing barely a glance to him so that you can pause and curtsy. As if he's even looking at you to see it. "Thank you for answering my question. Izuku and I have travels we simply must be getting to."

Without another word, you exit King Hisashi's study, two firm fists clenched starkly at your sides.

Taglist: @dragonempress123 @imabootywarrior @the-secret-thief @venusianpink @chickynn @lianatriestosurvive @tooloudarts @sapid-rose @xxangelpridexx @birds-have-teeth @icythotsenpai @warmchoccymilk @wesparklebitch @izoodles @fujimoribaby @my-bnha-things @pastel-mood-hours

#midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #bnha fantasy au #prince!izuku #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my fics

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squeeneyart · 4 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 18

AO3

Beta reader is @thesnadger!

Communication is established.

Martin has a job to do.

After months of near constant solitude and a week of above-average social interaction, Martin had to deal with an unhappy middle: Peter, with no warning or pattern, would appear at the lighthouse at whatever time seemed to suit his fancy. Bright and early one day, late lunch the next, twice already on Thursday, all for reasons Martin couldn’t wonder aloud at for fear of seeming too curious.

No alone time meant no poking his nose around. Not that he was supposed to, keeping his head down and all that, but sitting around wasn’t doing his nerves any favors.

It was easy to imagine Peter hiring someone to tail him home, so Martin never dared to take a new path or turn for that whole week. When he got home he stayed home. When he got to work he stayed at work. And when he walked in either direction he most certainly never took the sharp turn toward the Fairchild home, no matter how intensely curious he got.

So, once the group text was actually formed early in the next week (Tim: it was a promise not a threat!), Martin had taken part in the first of many nearly identical conversations. They boiled down to:

Martin: peters been weird, cant predict when he’ll be around

Sasha: we’re still pretty locked up, will let you know if things change

Jon: Elias has been elusive but I’m working on it.

Tim: can’t keep us busy forever

Besides some scattered thoughts and jokes primarily from Tim that got Martin through the more tedious aspects of the work day, the messages were all vague statements telling him “soon, we promise” and random tidbits from him of Peter being weird. The whirlwind of progress from the week prior was over. Waiting and sitting on his hands was all Martin had left.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

Jon had a lot more to say over phone calls than text. That much was clear by Tuesday night as Jon called to elaborate on his frustrations with Elias and continue other topics they’d discussed the conversion prior. The burden of starting the call and coming up with a topic was blessedly off Martin's shoulders, and it made the idea of regular conversations seem more possible.

While it was a relief to still talk to someone at length, Martin knew he would run out of things to say before long. He had no stories from the university he never attended, and Jon had been witness to Martin’s strangest place of work. The more he could deflect personal questions and get Jon to talk about himself, the longer it would take for Martin to be revealed as... well. Dull.

Still, he hoped that Jon would call again soon. If Martin was around for it.

It was Thursday. Peter had been around twice already with no warning. It was getting to be mid-afternoon and he still had a duty to perform. That part of his contract hadn’t changed.

Martin groaned into his desk. It wasn’t fair to have his most mindless and daydream-conducive task twisted into something horrifying. Some little part of him hoped that Sasha’s reasoning from the week before would hold some water, that his knowledge of what was coming would somehow keep him aware of his surroundings.

There was one way to find out, as much as it made his stomach squirm, and the thought of doing so with Peter around was enough to propel Martin out of his chair and toward the cleaning closet.

He began to mop the main floor with a fervor. If Sasha was right and he managed to avoid getting sucked into a wall, Peter absolutely could not witness it. He would have to move fast, even if it scared the shit out of him. And really, was it so scary? It wasn’t something he remembered, and it never hurt him. Probably. He would at least feel pain if something had happened, right?

He had always been fine. A bit sore from lugging things up the stairs, but otherwise nothing had harmed him as far as he knew. What was he afraid of? A person that could watch him as he went about his work in a haze? Or the wall refusing to release him after he entered, trapping him without ever releasing his mind from-

Oh, no, his heart was racing, his hands shaking more by the second. Swallowing had become more difficult, dry throat and a tongue that felt three times too big. Martin walked toward the stairs, trying to keep water level in the mop bucket. The water level was the only evidence that he’d lost time, and he wasn’t going to do this without something to show for it.

Letting out a breath that sent shivers down his arms, Martin placed the mop down and took out his phone.

Martin: so im going upstairs now? to do the mop thing?

Martin: gonna try and use an old analog tape recorder like you all said. any final thoughts would be appreciated

He waited, growing more concerned by the second that he would get no answer, but finally someone responded.

Jon: Sounds like you’re all set. Be sure to send a message here once you’ve gotten back out again, or if you don’t go in at all.

Tim: yeah any situation where your feet are on solid ground really

Jon: You said before that Peter was around. Is it safe to assume he’s left?

Martin: ok will do. he’s not here now so im getting it over with so he wont see anything weird

Jon: Okay, good luck and let us know when you’re out.

Martin: thanks

Sasha: if things start to seem off, retreat back downstairs and call us immediately

Tim: ^^^

Martin: okay, talk to you all soon

Before Martin pocketed his phone, he saw Tim leaving a string of thumbs-up and broom emojis, and as he began up the stairs the occasional vibration in his pocket revealed that something was happening past his goodbye. It wouldn’t be good for the recording if he kept it on like that, but he had no intention of silencing the phone or the people on the other end. He clicked on the tape recorder, placed it in his pocket, and began his climb.

The bucket and mop were as unwieldy as ever, and for not the first time he thought about how nice an elevator would be for his knees before shaking his head. This was a time for focus. Drifting thoughts were a one-way ticket to lost time in a much more literal sense than usual.

He was walking up a rather repetitive staircase, but every once in a while there would be an imperfection that reminded him of where he was in space. A crack here, some chipped paint there. Looking around there were plenty of place markers. His feet were on stairs that were the same as they always were.

About a quarter of the way up, this method began to make his stomach flip. Once, he looked too far ahead, too much up. So he kept his eyes down. He’d been keeping to the inside of the stairs, but his gaze drifted too far and oh, no, another spiral leading down which was worse.

This building, he thought, didn’t appreciate him looking too hard. Fine. He could stay present without a visual anchor. There was still buzzing coming from his pocket, thought less often than before. At least they were still around. If anything happened, they would know quickly and be able to do something. Sure, he hadn’t seen them solve any problems yet, but there was enough confidence between the three of them that they had to have some level of competence.

Martin looked down at the bucket in his hand and held back a scream.

Instead, he hissed at the thing, “When?! We aren’t even halfway up! I let myself think for two seconds and- oh, dammit!” He dug into his pocket for the tape recorder, but it was nowhere to be found.

Martin turned toward the wall, any fear being quickly replaced by petty indignation. “Hey! I paid for that! You can’t just- as if you even need to pick my pockets when you’re a big, stupid voice recorder all on your own!”

Besides the echo of his own voice bouncing up and away from him (mocking him, probably) nothing bothered to respond. He had half a mind to toss the bucket and mop down the stairs for the sake of his aching arms, but he resumed his walk with a quickened pace. If Peter hadn’t come back yet, and it didn’t sound like he had, Martin would do something while he had the time.

At the top of the stairs, Martin opened up the group chat just long enough to type one message.

Martin: lighthouse stole my tape recorder

Then he stuffed the mobile away and made a beeline for the horrible machine he’d been faced with every day that week. His phone buzzed with incoming messages, the motion in his pocket slowly becoming more of a reassurance.

First, he took the time to look at it as a whole. The back couldn’t be reached with it pressed up against the inner wall. Did it make sense for it to be put there? Unsurprisingly, when he’d finally looked up how lighthouses were supposed to work, the panel itself was nowhere to be found as part of the process. What a surprise!

When he’d started the new order of button pushing that past Friday, he’d tried to listen for the mechanisms behind it, but he didn’t know enough about normal mechanics let alone whatever this was to make any judgments. He’d cursed himself then for not paying attention and asking more questions at the start, but there was no helping it.

Really, the fact that he’d been hired at all should’ve been a dead giveaway.

The dial that had once allowed Evan to speak was entirely cut out from the process, a disconnected thing that gave no feedback after being twisted. Did that mean the entire cause was lost? Or had its function been moved to another piece, or a series of pieces-

“Ah, Martin, thought I might find you up here.”

Martin was going to die.

It was a thought that came unbidden, the only clear thing in his head as he turned to find Peter Lukas climbing the last stair without a sound coming from his less than newly polished leather shoes. The soles should’ve made a clicking sound.

Peter looked at him and smiled. “Scared you, didn’t I? Always been told I have quiet feet.”

“Yeah, you did. Wasn’t very nice.” He couldn’t keep the slight shake out of his voice. His hand reached out and grasped the mop’s hand.

“Not for you maybe, but the look on your face is very funny.” The smile grew just a little more cheerful.

“Sure. Well, I’m-”

“Cleaning, right,” Peter said, pressing a hand to his forehead as if remembering something. “Glad to see the last smudges from them wiped away, if I’m honest. More people, more mess for you to clean up later.”

“I suppose, yeah. Need to clean anyway, though.” To emphasize his point, Martin began to clean the floor around and away from the panel. “Did you…”

“Oh, no, nothing really. Just wanted to check in a bit more after all the... disruption from before. And to make you jump a little. Need to make my own fun, sometimes. The week has been dreadful, Martin.”

And you’re spreading the feeling around. “Hm,” Martin replied, as dismissive and uninterested as he could muster.

Martin could hear the smile in Peter’s voice and knew he’d failed to dampen the man’s strange energy. “Yes, well, I’ll be off. When-” And then Peter was interrupted by a prolonged buzzing in Martin’s pocket. “Need to answer that?”

Shrugging, Martin continued to mop and kept his eyes to the ground. “Weird spam call, probably. Mum wouldn’t call my mobile.”

“Mm, good answer. Company time and all that.” With an odd stretching motion, Peter glanced out the window. “Oh, and what were you doing when I came up?”

“Stretches,” Martin replied abruptly. He coughed and evened out his voice. “The walk up is terrible.”

“And that’s why I have you do it for me!” Peter’s laugh came out rough and strangely quiet, a noise that settled under Martin’s skin. The old man’s face twisted into an unreadable smile, something that underneath the mirth felt like a taunt. “But enough of that. Don’t know if I’ll be back again today. And keep that thing quiet if you’re not expecting work calls. Nothing worse than being contacted from anywhere in the world at any time, truly.” The smile seemed to sink into a genuine, almost childlike frown, and Peter slinked back down the stairs without another sound.

After about five minutes of mopping, Martin released the hand and collapsed on the couch. Stupid, stupid, of course he would come right as he was about to fiddle with things.

The prolonged vibrations had ceased some minutes ago, and Martin finally opened the group chat to see what he’d missed. There were several messages from earlier in which Tim and the others had continued to chat. Then his message and general confusion and concern which Martin had expected. Finally, a missed call from Sasha, followed by a text.

Sasha: do we need to get over there?

Blinking, Martin considered the message. Was that an option?

Martin: no everything is over

Martin: peter came in, had to lie about it being a spam call

Jon: of course he did

Sasha: well, call when you think it’s safe

Tim: and maybe check your pockets

Immediately, Martin patted himself down, though nothing seemed amiss. His phone was of course still on him, and there was nothing new.

Martin: everything else is the same. the lighthouse wasnt nice enough to trade something for my tape recorder

Tim: :(

Jon: Sasha is right. We’ll do better if we talk over the phone later when you’re sure to be out of Lukas’ sight. Keep inventory of your things and call us when you can.

Hesitating for a moment, Martin looked down at the winding stairs.

Martin: if you had to get here how long would it take

Sasha: about two hours if i’m driving

Martin: right

Martin: okay. ill call you soon

The same conclusion was made as before, only moreso. Martin would keep his head down with exactly zero poking around. The lockscreen of his mobile would show no notifications to mitigate the risk of eavesdropping (what if his phone was stolen by his evil workplace?), and unless there was some sort of emergency no messages or calls were to be made during his work hours.

Peter certainly knew something was going on. There was no point in pretending otherwise. Martin would have to hope they were both committed to playacting their routine for as long as the others needed to get back and do something.

The thought dug a pit in his stomach. Pretending that everything was exactly the way it had been was just... being alone for most of the day. He’d enjoyed receiving random messages at work and the sudden movement in his pocket that meant someone was around. It was a normal thing for people, texting when they’re supposed to be working. Pity he’d mucked it up so fast.

Long after he’d prepared for sleep, Martin sat on his bed with mobile in hand. His contact list was so short that he didn’t even need to scroll to find Jon’s name. It was right under an old manager he’d never deleted from his contacts.

His thumb twitched over the call button. He wasn’t going to do it, but it was a nice thought. They’d already spoken at length today, with everyone showing enough concern that Martin had needed the alone time afterwards to breath.

That being said, enough time had passed for him to be itching for any conversation he could get, and he wanted to talk to Jon because he still didn’t quite get Sasha, and conversation with Tim tended to run short because Martin didn’t know how to keep things going after he’d dumped all of his grievances on the guy the week prior.

And he liked talking to Jon. And maybe it was because Martin understood a topic Jon cared deeply about, but Jon seemed to like talking to Martin, too.

There was no call that night, and he was out 20 pounds for that tape recorder from the resale shop.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au

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spaceskam · 4 years

Text

another part of me could be you

for @capmanes (i meant to have this done literally an entire week ago but i have no concept of time management)❤️️

ao3

warning: blood & guns; this also turned into something a little spiteful if you squint

Michael didn’t exactly hate Forrest, hate was a very strong word, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get unreasonably irritated every time he saw him do something stupid like breathe. The guy was clingy and stuck to Alex’s side more often than not which made it extremely hard to get information from him, but Alex never even seemed to mind. It was like he was using Forrest as an excuse to get away from all of their alien bullshit and refused to admit it. It made Forrest even more annoying.

Yet, when Forrest showed up outside the airstream, alone and panicking, Michael couldn’t turn him away.

“Whoa, dude, breathe,” Michael instructed, guiding him to go sit in one of the chairs around the fire pit. He went, bowing his head in his hands as he tried to steady his breath. Michael stayed crouched in front of him, making sure he was going to be okay. As much as he didn’t like him, Alex liked him, and that meant that it was now Michael’s responsibility to make sure he didn’t get a scratch on him. “What happened?”

Forrest grabbed fistfuls of his own hair, taking a sharp and shaky breath.

“Alex,” he said, voice breaking, “Someone took Alex and he just told me to go to you and, and we need to find him. We need to go find him.”

Michael’s chest clenched and he tried not to get too angry at the thought of Alex just being taken. What the hell did that even mean, taken? Who took him? Where? Why? What?

But Forrest was crying and Michael knew from experience that, when one person was losing it, the other had to stay strong. So, for once, for Alex, he had to just stay strong.

“Do you know who took him?” he asked, keeping his voice as controlled as possible. It was hard to breathe and his skin was on fire, desperate to go find where Alex was and steal him back. Maybe even kill the person who took him, who knows, he was feeling a bit unpredictable these days.

“No,” Forrest said, shaking his head. He lifted his head to make eye contact with Michael, not a single trace of shame as he cried and sniffled. “No, they just jumped us. I-I thought at first it was... But they grabbed Alex and literally started dragging him into a van like some shitty mob movie and he tried to fight back, but he was, like, really outnumbered and I-I couldn’t help, one of ‘em had a gun pointed at me and I just froze. God, I’m a piece of shit, I just froze.”

“No, that was a scary situation, it makes sense,” Michael–who definitely deserved a medal after this–said, “Then what happened?”

“They just threw him in and he just yelled to go to you before slamming the door closed and driving off,” Forrest explained, voice turning a little whiny as a new wave of tears threatened his eyes, “I feel so bad.”

“Hey, look, we’re gonna find him. Can you tell me anything about the van or what the guys looked like? Look, follow me and let me see if they were stupid enough to let Alex keep his phone.”

Forrest nodded and managed to stand up, both of them heading into the airstream. Michael pulled out his laptop that was a little bit shotty but he’d rigged it up pretty nice. Then, when he and Alex were still on good terms, he’d tweaked it a little bit more to make it even better. He instantly started trying to track Alex’s phone even though he knew it would be hard since Alex wasn’t really a fan of being traceable.

“The van was just all black, tinted windows. There wasn’t anything on it to make it stand out from any other all black vans with tinted windows. The guys all had masks.”

“Anything identifiable? Did you catch any license plate numbers or anything?”

“No, I mean–Wait, it was a government license plate,” Forrest said. Michael looked over his shoulder at him.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m, like, 99% sure. It didn’t have as many numbers or anything as regular license plates.”

“Good,” Michael breathed, turning back to the laptop, “So let’s find some military places and see if there’s any in the vicinity of where Alex’s phone is. If I can find it.”

“I just don’t get it. Who would want to take him?” Forrest asked. Michael sighed, realizing that, as much as he wanted to keep their secret to the small group they had, it looked like that might not be possible. Even if he kept it away, Forrest would be curious and he would ask questions.

“How much do you know?” he said. Forrest was quiet for a minute, clearly not understanding the question. Which meant Alex hadn’t really told him anything. But then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Alex was loyal. “Right. How much do you know about Alex’s father?”

“Um, that he’s a dick?” Forrest filled in, “I know... I know about what happened when you guys were young.” Michael froze for a moment, taking a grounding breath before putting his focus back onto the screen. “Alex said he’s done bad things, but didn’t elaborate past that.”

“Yeah, well, Alex’s whole family is affiliated with a pretty sketchy government organization,” Michael said, trying to keep his mind focused, “Alex has been trying to dismantle it.”

“What?”

The computer finished loading in that second, showing that Alex’s phone had received a text ten minutes prior and it’d pinged off a cell tower that had about a twenty square mile range. Michael grinned to himself, feeling prideful as he began searching for places in that area that he might be. His first instinct was to show Alex, show what he learned from watching him, but that wasn’t an option. Not right now, at least.

“Can I trust you?” Michael asked, writing down a few different addresses that might be it. He turned to face him, seeing that he was really fucking confused but he nodded. “No, seriously. If I start talking, you need to be aware that if you share anything I say to you with anyone outside of Alex, that you’re going to be in danger.” He didn’t really mean it as a threat. Or, maybe he did. “But you need to know if you’re going to help me get Alex.”

Forrest swallowed and nodded, drying his face entirely.

“Tell me what I need to know.”

“So. Aliens.”

“Aliens.”

“And you’re one?”

“Yep.”

“And Alex probably got taken because he protects you guys?”

“Probably.”

“And I was absolutely wrong about the Nazis?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, “Also, you should probably dial back the Nazi obsession when you’re literally related to modern day Nazis. It’s not a good look.”

“Yeah, well, clearly I need to get a job on Ancient Aliens after this, so,” Forrest huffed. Michael managed a smile, but it quickly faded as he spotted a black van in the lot of an abandoned building. “Coincidence?”

“Nothing’s a coincidence around here.”

Michael stopped his truck and turned it off, leaving it in plain sight on the property. There wasn’t much sneaking they could do anyway and, besides, he was feeling pretty powerful in the moment.

“So, what’s the plan?” Forrest asked.

“We go in, I throw guards at the wall, we get Alex, and we fucking flee to the bunker.”

“What bunker?”

“Either Alex’s or mine.”

“Wait, you both have a bunker?”

“Technically, Alex has two, but–“

“Who are you people?”

“Right, so basically just watch my back and I’ll watch yours. Alex said you’re ex-military, so you’ve got some skills, right?” Michael said. He shrugged slightly. “Good enough. Here, use this.”

Michael leaned over to the glove compartment and moved the acetone to pull out the gun, handing it to Forrest. He eyed him skeptically, but took it anyway.

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” Forrest asked. They made eye contact for a second and Michael nodded. Him not being okay wasn’t an option. Alex needed to be okay or Michael wouldn’t be okay. Simple as that.

“Let’s go get him.”

It was easier than it should’ve been to slip into the building. There were no snipers, no guards, no nothing. It had them both on high alert, just waiting to be caught off guard.

Michael kept his power bubbling under the surface, focusing on his anger that someone had taken Alex and making sure that he would be a force to be reckoned with the moment he needed to be. Forrest kept the small gun held up, finger off the trigger like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’ll have you know, I’m very against guns,” he’d said when they climbed out of the truck despite the fact that he cocked it easily and checked it over. Michael had rolled his eyes, but felt a bit safer knowing he wasn’t gun crazy. Less of a chance he’d actually shoot Alex.

“This is weird,” Michael whispered, slowly making his way down the hall, “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, something’s wrong, they took Alex,” Forrest pointed out. Michael shook his head.

“No, I mean...”

He trailed off as they took a corner and saw a guard laying in a pool of his own blood right outside a door. They both froze. It didn’t make any sense. Where were the other guards? Who did that to him? Anxiety pooled in his stomach and he looked over to Forrest.

“What now?” Forrest asked. Michael took a deep breath and nodded his head to the door.

“We go in.”

“And if Alex is hurt too?”

“Then I kill the person who hurt him,” Michael said easily. Forrest didn’t respond.

They both moved closer to the door and Michael used his mind to throw it open quickly, giving them the element of surprise to whoever was inside. But the only conscious one on the inside was Alex.

He was on the floor, prosthetic nowhere to be seen as he clutched his side. Three bodies laid out around them and Michael wasn’t sure if they were alive or not, but he knew for sure that Alex had taken them out. And Alex, wounded and struggling to breath, gave them a bloody little smile.

“Hey, Prince Charming,” he said, not really specifying which one of them he meant, “Just in time.”

Forrest immediately put the gun away and went to his side. Michael watched like an intruder as Forrest kissed his cheek as a small form of comfort and apologized. Alex smiled tiredly at him before pursing his lips for an actual kiss, something he got despite the fact his lips were covered in blood.

“Great reunion and all, but you’re hurt,” Michael said, pushing away that gut-wrenching feeling that came with not being the one Alex wanted when he was in pain, “Let me see it.”

Alex didn’t move his hand as he gave him his attention, still breathing raggedly. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Michael moved closer and watched him keep on pressing. He was going to bleed out.

“I’m fine,” Alex said, smiling up at him with those eyes that would’ve been totally swoon worthy if he wasn’t denying his pain, “Just a scratch.”

“Alright, Mercutio, move your hand,” he said, crouching in front of him.

Alex breathed a laugh and his head fell back against the wall, still smiling at him and refusing to move his hand.

“You remember that scene in Romeo and Juliet?” he breathed, closing his eyes slowly and opening then just as slow, “Remember we-we had to act it out freshman year together? You were Romeo, you-you had to hold me as I died. You-you suck at acting. Still Romeo, though, still. Now. That’s kinda funny. The-the cinematic parallel no one predicted.”

“Okay, we’re not about to reminisce or make jokes, that’s what you do when you’re about to die and you’re not fucking dying,” Michael said, keeping his voice steady despite the fact that he was getting more and more worried. He looked at Forrest who seemed way in over his head, but he still held Alex and pushed his hair off his sweaty forehead to comfort him. Michael had never been so grateful for someone he didn’t even like. “You’re gonna be okay, Alex.”

“Yeah?” Alex laughed, “These violent delights have violent ends. You know that one, right, Forrest?”

“Is he delirious?” Forrest asked Michael, turning to him for guidance. Michael licked his lips.

“You trust me?” he asked him. Forrest looked at Alex who seemed to be fading out of it more and more by the second as he bled, continuing to murmur Shakespeare under his breath. Which, Michael had to admit, was kind of funny. But he could laugh about it when Alex was healthy.

“Yeah,” Forrest said, nodding, “I trust you.”

Michael took a deep breath and nodded, closing his eyes as he mentally pictured his powers rising and strengthening specifically for Alex. Always for Alex.

“Lay him on the floor,” Michael instructed, “I’m gonna heal him, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it completely. More than likely, I’ll just be able to do enough to get him to Kyle, but I’ll be fucked up too. So you’re gonna need to drive and call Kyle as soon as I stop, okay? Then you’re gonna need to call Max so he and Liz can come out here and deal with the body and DNA situation, okay? Can you do that?”

“Absolutely,” Forrest agreed. They both helped as they laid him on the floor.

“Don’t touch him. It’s a lot of electrical power and I don’t wanna accidentally fuck you up,” Michael warned. Forrest nodded and moved just a little, giving them just enough space. Michael carefully peeled off Alex’s hand, seeing the nasty wound on his stomach still gushing blood. It was so bad, Michael couldn’t even tell what caused it.

Still, he layered his hands over it, feeling Alex’s heart pumping hard as it tried to save him.

“Thus, with a kiss, I die,” Alex said, huffing a little laugh as he took a strangled breath.

“Not that kinda kiss, babe,” Michael replied, “And you’re not dying.”

Then Michael focused all of his power on him, thinking of nothing but Alex and everything that he was. His pretty smile, his undying loyalty, his protective nature, his unmatched kindness despite all the cruelty he endured, his eyes, his mouth, his heart. Everything that was Alex Manes was incredible and it was way too soon for him to go away. Michael wasn’t done showing him he was good. Hell, he hadn’t even started.

He was starting now.

Things were blurry when his body decided it’d reached it’s peak and he had to turn to throw up. If a good amount got on one of the guy’s that kidnapped Alex, well, that was someone else’s problem.

“Michael,” Forrest said, his hand reaching for Michael’s shoulder and squeezing. It grounded him more than he’d ever admit. “Michael, you good?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and turning back to them. Alex was breathing well, eyes wide as he sat up on his own and stared at Michael in something akin to shock. They both knew he’d have a hand print on him and that was a bridge that would absolutely not be fun to cross. But it didn’t matter. He was breathing. “Yeah, I’m good. Sick, but good.”

“Alex, are you good?” Forrest wondered, his hand still on Michael as his other one went to Alex’s cheek. It was strange to see someone so unabashedly caring. For both of them.

“Yeah,” Alex said, nodding, “Still bleeding, but not as bad. Thing you just mended an artery and a, a kidney, maybe? I don’t know.”

“Good,” Michael breathed, laughing slightly, “Good.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Forrest urged.

Alex stood between them as they helped him get to the truck, letting him use them both of a crutches. Michael was weak and dizzy, but he could feel Alex’s gratitude and that pushed him. Besides, he had acetone in the truck.

They squeezed in the bench of Michael’s truck, Forrest in the driver’s seat and Alex in the middle. Forrest pulled out his phone and immediately started making calls as he put the truck and drive and got them the fuck out of there. Michael went for the acetone stash in his glove box. He downed it quickly and tried not to react when Alex leaned against him.

When he glanced at him, he had his eyes closed and he was taking extremely controlled breaths as he pressed his hand to the wound. Michael watched him for a moment as he drank and, once he was done, he carefully grabbed a t-shirt that was stuffed behind the seat. He smelled it, making sure it wasn’t gross, before moving Alex’s hand and pressing it over the wound.

“You need anything from me?” Michael asked softly so as not to disturb Forrest as he got directions to the cabin from Kyle, “Like, are you grounded or are you just lucid enough to be thrown into a panic attack over being kidnapped and having to take out four guys by hand?”

Alex huffed a laugh and tilted his head back to look up at him, eyes fond. Michael loved that look.

“I’ll be okay,” he promised, nodding, “Thank you for saving me.”

“Thank Forrest, he made sure we made it in time and handled the alien information like a champ,” Michael said.

“Thanks Forrest,” Alex hummed. Forrest glanced over at them both, flashing a smile. He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder, reaching out to squeeze Alex’s thigh gently.

“Yeah, Kyle, thanks. I’ll call Max and I’ll tell him where to go,” Forrest said, letting go of Alex to grab the phone and end the call, “You two still doing good? No one’s gonna die on me?”

“No,” Michael assured, “Not gonna let that happen.”

Forrest made momentary eye contact with him, going back and forth from the road to his eyes.

“I know. Thank you.”

“No worries.”

Forrest got Max on the phone and Michael settled into holding Alex. Everything was going to be okay.

“So, he’s gonna be okay?”

Kyle nodded and looked between Michael and Forrest. He’d stitched up Alex and left him on the old bed of the pullout couch, pain killers in his system. Michael knew, logically, that he had to leave soon and just let Alex be with his boyfriend while he healed. But, fuck, he didn’t want to go.

“Yeah,” Kyle confirmed.

“Thank God,” Forrest breathed, visibly relaxed at the confirmation. Kyle smiled and looked at Michael as if waiting for him to ask for a ride. He cleared his throat and decided he didn’t really have a choice.

“I can, uh, leave my truck here for you guys whenever Alex is feeling okay if, uh, you wanna give me a ride back into town,” Michael said. Forrest looked to him like he’d lost it.

“No, what if they come back? We need you here,” Forrest said. Michael didn’t know how to feel about that, didn’t know how to handle being needed.

“Stay,” Alex called sleepily. Michael looked back at Alex and then at Forrest, both of whom seemed eager for him to stay. He took a grounding breath. He didn’t want to go.

So he looked back to Kyle.

“Um, I guess I gotta hold down the fort,” Michael said. Kyle eyed him before slowly nodding.

“Take care of him, call me if anything goes wrong,” he said, “Bye, Alex, stay safe.”

“Bye,” Alex hummed.

Michael followed him to the door, quickly locking it behind him. He watched until Kyle was gone and then watched a little longer, making sure no one followed them there. After that, he closed his eyes and did a mental sweep of all the locks on the doors and windows in the cabin and made sure they were secure. Until they knew for sure who took Alex and why and if there was anyone else, he needed to be on high alert.

“Hey, Romeo,” Alex called. Michael turned his gaze to the pullout couch, seeing Alex in the middle and Forrest laying beside him. He figured before today he would’ve wanted to throw up at the sight. But, right now, he was grateful.

Really fucking grateful.

“C’mere,” Alex added, patting the bed beside him.

Like always, that magnetic pull tugged at Michael’s heart and he slowly stepped out of his boots and walked towards the bed. He looked at Forrest, making sure he was cool with it, and then laid down when he got a nod of confirmation. Alex grabbed his hand and held it over the stitches where the hand print was slowly but surely making itself known. He felt a rush of just pure fucking love and had no idea how to handle it.

So he moved closer, still checking with both of them that it was alright with glances. Forrest was already pressed to Alex’s side with his hand in his hair and he didn’t seem to have any issues as Michael pressed in just as close on Alex’s other side with his hand on his bare stomach. He could hear his heart thumping in his chest, his head still feeling a little off from healing Alex and acetone. Maybe he misunderstood.

“I-Is this okay?” he asked carefully. Forrest nodded solemnly.

“That was scary, it’s still scary, we don’t know if they’re coming back,” he said softly, “No one should be alone.”

“You’re being way too nice to me,” Michael huffed, swallowing harshly. His hands were shaking and he didn’t really know why. He couldn’t understand why this guy was being so nice to him, so open to him, and yet didn’t want anything from him. That didn’t compute.

“Not everyone has an agenda,” Alex murmured, eyes closed as he relaxed to the feeling of both men at his side. Michael could feel through the mark just how safe he felt with them, both of them. He could’ve cried.

“You take care of Alex, I take care of you, simple as that,” Forrest added, staring at him over Alex’s head. Michael nodded curtly as he finally understood a little bit better. Forrest was taking care of one of his own.

And Michael fell under that umbrella.

Simple as that.

#malex #malex fic #forlex #forlex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #forrest long #roswell new mexico #my fic #peep that delicious spite #hope you like itttt

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ashenpages · 3 years

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Current Fic Ideas & Emoji Voting Key

Quick disclaimer that I’m a romance writer in all aspects of the term, so most of my fics will contain mature content. Engage at your own risk, you know the rules, you’re responsible for curating your own experience of the internet, blah blah blah. This post serves as a current mock up of fic ideas I’m either actively working on or considering working on next. You can drop me an ask about any of them, or just vote via the emoji combo I’ve assigned them.

Voting lets me know you’re excited about an idea and makes it more likely I’ll actually work on it. You can vote anytime, there’re no deadlines or winner announcements, just me gauging your interest by what I see in my ask box most often.

You can also ask me about the original stuff I’m working on currently. The current WIPs are Medusa centric and the emoji for them is: 🐍

- Lupin: 🤑🤠💍 These are all oneshot ideas, between 5-15K each. If you want to vote for a specific idea, send me the emojis and the number of the idea.

Lupin, Jigen, and Goemon always play rock-paper-scissors after a big heist to decide who’ll give the group a striptease, and who will get showered with money. Based on a piece of fanart that is basically this sequence of events in a 4koma (except in their version Jigen loses and in mine, it’s Goemon). (written, just needs editing)

Zenigata cuffs Lupin four times, and Lupin steals his heart. Very NSFW conclusion. Zenigata is the most caring lover you’ll ever find. Lupin is as thirsty as usual and twice as intense. (written, just needs editing)

Jigen protects Lupin from poison darts during a treasure hunt in an Aztec temple, and Lupin nurses him back to help--forcibly, since Jigen is a horrible patient. Born from my desire to spoil Jigen and talk about what ridiculous domestic husbands these two are. (WIP)

Born from the idea that Goemon and Zenigata probably couldn’t be an item, my brain decided to come up with how I could write for them. Goemon’s teaching an ikebana class as part of his training, and Zenigata shows up as a student on forced recreational leave for his health from the ICPO. Zenigata wins the samurai’s heart through flowers. But what happens when Lupin and Jigen find out? (Only good sexy things, I promise. These beans are in a healthy polycule--be gay, do crimes)

Trans!Lupin and Trans!Jigen premise: Jigen cares for Lupin after the master thief has top surgery, since Jigen has Been There and Done That. Caring, sweet, and a little sexy. Lupin is a much better patient than Jigen.

- Sonic Vampire Novelist Coffee Shop AU: 📚☕💐

Shadow is an immortal vampire who has seen the world change for the worse too many times. These days it feels like he only lives for his coffee dates with Rouge, another immortal who loves each new era they encounter, warts and all. He has to admit that the book series she got him into speaks to him, at least. If someone in this era can understand him without meeting him, it can’t all be bad. But he hardly expected the goofy blue barista at the new coffee place to understand him the way those books do.

This is a novel length romcom romp with some big feelings about what it means to watch as things change, grow, and die. Expect lots of Big gothic feelings from this one, emotionally charged kissing, and overly-adoring sex. But also expect shenanigans from everyone in the coffee shop, which include Rouge, Amy, Tails, Knuckles, Cream, and more.

- Sonic Blazamy: 💖🌸💎

Amy Rose has been in love with Sonic for a while.

Or has she?

When the Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Shadow, and Silver are trapped as the fuel sources for Doctor Eggman’s newest evil scheme, Amy teams up with Blaze, Rouge, and Cream to save them. With Sonic out of the picture and Amy fulfilling his role, was she ever really in love with him? Or did she just want to be like him?

This is a novel length epic romance with lots of competent women and lots of romantic Blazamy content. Expect flowery hopes and dreams, badass self-actualization, and glancing hand touches that give way to cuddly and sweet sex.

- Persona 5: 🗡🍛☕

After bringing down the Metaverse twice, Ryuji didn’t think graduating high school and figuring out what to do with his life would be so hard. Akira’s back in town, and the gang’s more-or-less all in Tokyo, but everyone else seems to have a plan while Ryuji just floats. How’s he supposed to change the world when he’s not a phantom thief anymore?

This is a novel length fic that addresses how powerless one can feel being just one person in the face of all the corrupted systems and bigotry the world has to offer. It’s about holding on to what you believe in, working through the doubt, and fighting your way to a better tomorrow with the power you do have. The whole gang is queer, featured relationships being Mako x Ann, Ryuji x Akira, Futaba & Yusuke as platonic life partners. Akira is polyamorous and omnisexual, Futaba’s asexual and aromantic while Yusuke is demisexual and very romantic, Makoto’s a lesbian, Ann and Ryuji are bi, and Haru’s pansexual, demisexual, and aromantic. They’re one giant band of queer Phantom Thieves, and even if they’re not really doing the Metaverse thing anymore, they’re still gonna save the world!

Also, I’m gonna make Makoto not a cop. That super didn’t age well. Zenkichi and his boss can work on making them better/abolishing them for other better organizations.

- Hades Game: ❤️‍🔥💀

Oneshot. I just really need to elaborate on the threesome you can have with them in-game, okay? Healthy and canon poly relationships are so few and far between, so often I have to do a ton of groundwork to explain why it’s working in the fic, but NOT WITH THESE KIDS!

Get ready for Meg helping Zag and Than be better at expressing their feelings, lots of kissing, and probably pegging.

- Castlevania Animation Trevor/Sypha/Alucard: 🧛🏰🛌

Castlevania gave Alucard a threesome last season, and I just really need S4 to give me him being taken care of by his partners. They’re probably not going to give it to me, so I’ll need to do it myself. This is just an everybody loves Alucard oneshot, with the gang’s signature banter (to an extent), Sypha being sexy, and Trever being remarkably sincere. This fic is gonna feel like that Ann Hathaway picture with Trevor kissing Alucard and Sypha holding the end of Trevor’s whip while she leans her head on Alucard’s shoulder adoringly.

- Devil May Cry Nico/Lady/Trish: 💋✨😈

Nico’s gay, okay? Like really, really gay. And Lady’s bi and not into men who make her pay bills, but very into women who make amazing guns for her and demonesses with hearts who fight by her side. Trish is ace, but loves people and is pretty attached to Lady at this point. Plus it’s cute when Lady blushes and says nice things like they’re insults. I don’t have super solid ideas for them yet, and I envision these more like a polycule where Lady’s with Nico and with Trish but they’re not with each other more than seeing it as a threesome, but who knows what might happen. This is probably 1-2 oneshots depending on ideas, but might turn into a series of oneshots if people are interested (or I can’t control myself and inspiration strikes).

- Post FMA:B Blind Roy & No Alchemy Ed: 👀👑🙏

This is actually an old novel-length fic I wrote ages ago and didn’t post that didn’t turn out well because I was new to writing sex when I first wrote it. The plot is good, and is all about Roy learning to work with his blindness to reclaim his ambition of being Fuhrer and changing the system to something that actually cares for its people. He and Ed reconnect, fall into bed, and both set about working through their respective traumas about being “useless” having lost their sight/alchemy. They go to Xing as an ambassadorial party to offer Amestris’s collaboration on Al and May’s Alkahestry experiments--and uncover a plot that might threaten both kingdoms.

- Age of Calamity continuity Mipha x Revali: 🦚🐟💘

The first time Revali noticed Mipha, it was in the heat of battle. She stole his mark, taking them down with a flurry of quick blows from her spear. Violence rained from her like water--and then she healed him on her way to her next battle. No questions, no conditions, just pure kindness. The usual need to measure himself against those around him was quiet in her wake. And Revali couldn’t understand it. But how to get to know more about her? A fish and bird may fall in love, but where would they live?

This fic could be a oneshot or novel length depending on how far down the hole I fall. I need it to cover time, but it could be done in linked vignettes or with actually covering events in detail. I may elect to do a oneshot just to get it done and out of my system faster. So much fic to write, so little time.

Expect trans!Revali, polyamorous Zoras, scary competent Mipha, songbird Revali, love confessions that are made up entirely of berating Link for not loving Mipha the way she wants him to, and breaking these characters a little outside of their assigned roles in BotW and Age of Calamity. Background Link x Zelda, and Urbosa x Zelda’s Mom.

- Epic desert romance about Urbosa and Zelda’s mom: 🏜🏝⚡

I just think Urbosa should kiss women and Zelda’s mom should get more development and maybe a name or something. Also, lightning imagery/metaphors/play.

It also went way over my head that Riju wasn’t Urbosa’s daughter the first time I played BotW, so now I want to write about the Gerudo queen who refused to produce an heir. The Gerudo are fascinating and have a very interesting cutlure, but I think it could be examined from a nonbinary perspective that rejected pregnancy and wanting to find a husband. Not in like a hateful way, but in a way that examines if that’s really right for everyone. There’s that shop in town that sells Voe armor, after all. Maybe finding a husband and having children isn’t something you have to do if you don’t want to. And Urbosa really doesn’t want to.

#sonic the hedgehog #Lupin III #persona 5 #Devil May Cry #Hades Game #Castlevania #fma #Breath of the Wild #age of calamity

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signetxego · 4 years

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Done with the first member the Flintseol dorm! First up is the dorm leader!

“Out in the great big sky is where i wanna be! Why sit in one place when the whole world is just waiting to be seen!”

Personal Information

Name: フィンイアン　アルゲーント

Romanji: Finnian Argent

Gender: Male

Age: 18

Birthday: February 14th

Star sign: Aquarius

Height: 185cm

Eye colour: Green (natural), ice blue (artificial)

Hair colour: Blonde

Homeland: Crescent shore

Professional Status

Dorm: Flintseol

School year: 2nd

Class: 3-D

Occupation: Student, dorm leader

Club: Stargazing club

Best subject: Flying

Fun Facts

Dominant hand: Ambidextrous

Favourite food: “Specialty stew”

Least favourite food: Eggs

Dislikes: Staying in one place for too long

Hobby: Testing out his hoverboard

Talents: Cooking

Personality:

Finnian is a real strange kid. He’s very intelligent, both in understanding puzzles, and reading into people’s behaviour, but behaves like a complete idiot. He does things in his own, weird way, showing up to meetings late, arriving in class on his hoverboard, and deliberately making the wrong potions in alchemy. He likes to get a reaction out of people for his own entertainment by being as outrageous as he can make himself, and will do anything for a good bit of fun. He doesn’t really have any limits or inhibitors, and has no qualms doing things that others might hesitate to do, such as trying to poke malleus’ horns in class, to deliberately getting squeezed by floyd to see ‘how tight floyd can go before putting a dent in his robotic body’. He desires freedom above all else, never wanting to stay still in one place, and deliberately doing things just because he has the ability to do so. He’s quite unpredictable, but what is constant about him is that he craves excitement and new things, getting bored easily and wanting to move onto something new, seeking a differnt type of thrill every day. He never takes anything seriously, laughing no matter what, and it’s theorised that the reason he has so many electronic parts is because of his reckless, irresponsible behaviour. Finnian is actually very mysterious and untrusting, making up new, elaborate and vastly different stories of his life before coming to night raven college every other day, and never answering anyone’s questions seriously. He refuses to show anyone what lies underneath his foolhardy persona—that is his cunning mind and sharp wits. He believes it’s every man for themselves and has no real sense of loyalty to others, even the people he calls his friends. He likes to keep his talents to himself to give himself the advantage over others, playing the role of an irresponsible idiot perfectly, and using his bright smile to keep an emotional distance between him and others. Despite his harsh upbringing which developed this mindset, he’s quite softhearted deep down, and always wants the members of his dorm to be smiling. He’s overly friendly, enjoying the happiness of others whilst doing his best not to get attached, in case he needs to stab them in the back later on. After all, surviving as a pirate is a selfish business, a lesson he has taken to heart.

Unique magic: 「Fool’s silver」

Anything finnian touches with the tips of his fingers turns to silver. Until the spell is undone, it will remain as silver, and loses its original use, becoming ‘inanimate’. This applies to magical objects if the power of the object is weaker than finnian’s magic power. He can control anything he’s turned into silver, and shape, move and sculpt it at will. No matter how much he messes with it, it will return fully to its past state when the spell is released, unless it’s a living thing.

Trivia:

The left side of finnian’s body is completely robotic. It’s maintained and upgraded regularly by Idia, and as such Idia is the only person who Finnian properly respects and never messes around with.

Finnian is accompanied by a morph, a strange pink creature that can shapeshift into whatever it chooses. The two of them cause quite the scene on campus together.

Finnian has no parents, and grew up alone on the streets, but made a fortune through stealing and gambling when he was young, and has built himself quite the luxurious lifestyle.

His hoverboard is his pride and joy, a flying device he made himself originally from scrap metals, piloted by a single sail. Since he was a child, he’s been upgrading it and testing it in increasingly dangerous environments

Finnian prides himself on ‘never being lost’, due to his impeccable sense of direction and his talent for reading the stars. Unfortunately, he makes up his own constellations and names for the stars, and does very poorly in astronomy as a result.

Due to part of his tongue being robotic, his taste buds are uhm... weird. He’s an amazing chef and can actually cook anything very well, but often chooses to make himself things that look and taste absolutely toxic, such as his famous ‘speciality stew’ which tends to put people off due to the toad eye floating on top of it.

Finnian has been the dorm leader since his first day at school. Flintseol tradition states that every year, the dorm leader must create a puzzle, and whoever solves it can take over as leader, and make their own puzzle next year. As nobody has yet solved his puzzle, Finnian has been dorm leader for his whole time at night raven college.

He loves weird things, scary things, and exciting things. He’s got no sense of personal space, and smothers people who he thinks fit the bill for this, including most of diasomnia, savanaclaw, and octavinelle.

His real list of hobbies should be “tormenting malleus, tormenting vil, tormenting riddle, and tormenting inigo” because he specifically likes the reactions these people give him. He has no qualms with asking invasive questions, invading their personal space, and doing whatever comes to mind that might annoy them.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst #twst oc #twst fan dorm #fan dorm #flintseol #finnian argent #shiro draws #oh my god i hate this bastard cyborg so much someone please put him down #tried rlly hard to write his personality up w/out using the word 'chaotic' bc really he is just a chaotic entity #inigo is the vice dorm leader btw i'll get to drawing him next #oc profile

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