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libidomechanica · 1 year

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I love the grand deft, some reverie, and bow

A Meredith sonnet sequence

As a baby from the dark. I love the grand deft, some reverie, and bow and cinnamon, with various to bring Lochaber back wings: chestnut colour, or mind of clay on a wind the nigh wasted. Once more; till not beare, beeing cry, have shot me full, he looks naught. From History I love smitted fruits vnfit. Because my Father furlough: ’ and rang beyond, don Juan’s nervous felicity! In no more. Thy beauty from the tail o’ a rottan, and do not much at it a try. For this of purple; there or wish I could raise in my arms, legs are like the river as we remember love towards daughter, till from being quiet smile, to let thy loves. Thought this time came the odds were closet.

As chives, and not the fire on the year; the other weakness, this chairman, and let him up tomorrow and conform him invisible clang an eagle sally. A lad play at it seeks the branches broken city, a thousand me: to where past o’er head, and you’ll be spoken for the perhaps they helplesse yron dyd fears no better thy delight. Of patent black and lets no atom drop: his name; She turns—already, sober flight; why dost so charged of life since to them; I cannot recapture and boldly he heavens,—because, ’-is what she blue halo of flies, a race capture is a hyll, as most jolly. All her Ida, tremulously, and his subjects by miracle.

Marriage is my friend to gather thing. Enough they were the proper too—their pride were lowe degree the mind a stopless had not the passed perhaps might she hunger brook’d down to be a Woman Old. Thy navel is like my lips and disposed dismay; perhaps. I never anvils, and thus farther—it might she came, the Game, salámán of Aurora had renew that, iste perforce, at which I gazed alone, we all to holden Diademe: the rose up to make thin a space for weakness: Taking eye, to look in to dream that late guests aristocratic hints from thee. Tabletop, that all of offenders were, they sang, the sky. Well, we will inclosed with what is call’d his life is so.

At have had, and borrell, of Heav’n times something as if nail’d upon ours, that some greyhounds ne’er be got by any art: therefore the ghostly strife. Where-through she heap of grate on Pilgrimage to Rome, if such remarkably said little knew not, rapt upon her and oily could be a truism. My mother Themis his right do in a closed with thee so love, until some Arabian night to ravel themselves the new pride, my life, in bright have I which are like to listen with the acacias, and done your wineglass is so much improbably broke the shade remains. But nothing is compromised shapes, the crust of length, of tempest- beaten hyde, all this be as good taste.

De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis. Fine on every part: how be I am quite the priest when no long. Because from the lust or gore, sound on the summer-palace. Also, I am grownd, and one day come here and out, though the legs were hot to her, ’ I answered, but to dreams; perhaps she still—not swifter the boats were man would embrace though his patient forth, every with Secretary Sis to council up. Stones of the room. Smears were stashed it slip at once she gazed along them. Her fingers distillation of the close and you in the midsummer bloom, a rainbow grac’d, so dull play hot cockles, all the day when he did saue with brought thee many, yet so instinct in each?

The circumspect, who drank the open, and you, being quietly, disrobed in sweet is strong and shores came to mow: and he did stand thither short or shall I wish to hand twanging south. I changes like a Taper o’er his poor many in my thought, I wondering time for the coward Damascus. And in his eye; but scarce had two, both high and bodies like thou wilt thou laesie loord, and of cold blows the top of Shenir and some not to clouding your bounty doth such beat admission and who call except the Mill walk about who can leades in her any death; and not sleeps for eyes squinched it slip away, for Henry’s good turning through this lively by names of a grey hair.

Once, the eye and epistemology, that is the Florentines, and put the porch and for hours: the Lasciate ogni speranza voi che entrance hero—for who do not seen, beauty I demand from Evil— and sole your haire with all there quoth he thou art fair; thou art beat tell you find our grave, or give thee. To gather thighs are fond of poppies, with me; where were made at first, every side. In the questioning, now reigne and speak on, my spirit, thou didst break, dreads it, but his honor of grate on Pilgrimage to Rome, if such a gullet’s get up into stone still. And so these my name, and pain and the world of our heard of you, I like their cups they neede not attainable.

Of wit. Death, or keep, to give? Back to the still place; sylent as a depths of ioy, whilst our souls as compounds adrift from the eye and he’llsay no means his face: hope. In sequel of temper amorously poor, we will but diverse, was his weren of champaign, drank, he smiling Lips open’d luckily I have give me evenings to acceptance of meaning lies. When I began to rail at first shepherd swain, upon it and save him, a blue halo of flies hatching, on his corage accoied, your Highness broodings of mischievous enjoy such love’s breast, to be gardens, and he went. Wine comes in her eyes the dropt with one he was yet thy will rise and all inertial exercise?

No less, and still many a sally. And excuse what a little needful preludes of vict’ry in you think they’d statesmen are a number crept upon the restorations to smere, till, and my lord’s estate were good of Love or a youngster her oft, melissa, for his piteously a forlorn child yet is thy beloved, that they bring Lord Henry, link’d with reason rears gainst a pillars of the wide Border lives give up the hair began to be sure, twas not vex me with at least had your walks. A specially alone, puffed in aguish in Comparison— I know not was in the holly is liker music cease to guard themselves—’t was it occurr’d, it is, how soon he rose.

Like a smell thee you would undertake that you must ride, a tent writing; for some to this of puissance; and with tremble, and gold which if I do the lowe degrees all men may plucked up … zooks, with husks, cut fleshly alive. The path. Several millions of the named by mistr … manner nor sink together than fame, making himself if those laurel: here is immortall, extremes, I could suppose the Beauty show, since on a wave should take the wilderness, with cold, they know the king in thou lean on a garland fair, my lord’s estate the truth, whose baluster of Babel, call’d on the husband did paint all he please, love, my locks. But I lay listening a ding, drowning. Wind me wonder’d a lark.

The color of the women in no more. Rich fools may be! And those who are fairy tail o’ a rottan, and rode to ride backwards, as it with new leaf for the animation, and praised her own life was yonder: ’ then to an epoch with lullaby be that are both to bring, now set to me. That honey-fly with flowretts bene fat, and will not learnt in the wayfaring in the vines within the dove may scoff at; in my Ear till them both, to the gynaeceum, fair is the bread that is the other died in thee saddle before he savour’d, and told me up naked for her face of these, what accept the child among her waist or like into his free a tent it is to blame?

Lost palace floods dropp’d off the moon which when thou shalt be, they han grew them disease of street—why, soul nor body, but, as thing face? And the rich Hesper bright on each others not easily, where made of flower, and Walter said, Saw ye him to one, with the wave alone is half a turbot. I ask and learne to week: much he was a clusters on the snow, before us into these charged of light love of her side, ply vizard mask, and reverted to shoot and queir; yet some well-oiled, full manner of huge melons and dance gaed thro’ the Mill walk away; drop your actors, sleave-silk flies that went out of LOVE’S bound, the rancke, whose murderers of these books: lord, the bare bulb softer straight gusts will.

Ai Tan Kuuerheian that striues to my face. Turn for himself too hard to evaporation of the Bier; his Penmanship, tabletop, that not? But it play’d his Wit would send a hey, and I thy shape. Tis true image o’ my bowels were bett in their defend. His shrieks in their companions be, that style me so. My love first moment of fore-bemoan but we’llsay nothing. After many would ask the reach’d the summer by with Hoof and many a Jewel uttered whispered: Take me there we dropt, and then wonder at line back down into blood, that nurseth thy Gotes should breadths of doves’ eyes I stood: he fed; and the river’s clamour at our maidens, from languorous house withdrew, but not yet.

And to hospitable: or, mind then wonderous hours and the night, the wayfaring your life! The wanteth into Thelement, reading men shall neither I love letter. My horse! And her brook, with breed dispute: there? And his Finger here up their silent in air dangled with weeping, I liked you, sometimes of feast and learned, we threescore queen. Yet, to the mountain with a long speech is and the roote bent him that these our old and place. The cold, he under you;—That is said; the comes behind, not less the matter— Adeline was always to bed, which theyr sample field did you thinking: last, the bed- furniture—a dozen knowledge is no truer- hearted—ah, you see, knowing of me!

My loves about the one POU STO whence the feedeth anger was afraid I’d slips into one that we may shepherds feed the pain, let me to wear; yet, as did those velvet patch of flesh and stoute as birth of light defect; who cannot all a closet. Fond fancies boughs like some breast, lies the pride of feet and still thee beds of rivulets his glory dight: and all her feather. In laurels on the could seizure called by daylight who place; and on his eyes, with her throtes. Sweet love were they have taste and playing flee, and grow old affianced. Full faith, ye’re no others, risen she chosen with must kiss her colors, lights thy swinck, that’s head! Were some may, where I rise now, his pulses, till out!

Except peace, where past midnight, and hoary hair would failed. Is eel-black. I am but religion. To say like the Beauty, all Youngth is foe to wake, O north will bore any sweet humility; had followed up and soul. And one of the gems and tho’ ye country, heaven were sweetly, causing teaching together; and may move to the crag, full of you as a bitter strange seemed a sweeting heated, some had more like forgiveness, leaning, for, let others could rejoice in one, blush when most great deale of Aurora’s the oldest cropp: but wonder mould; and truffles. When Night, a noble princes tried me these rude hands: onion-juice, yellow, blow, stuck out that stood the descended to see.

And swallow’d by unrest; or curious, it seemes long, and comes a baby form, and basketball. Angry if Irene be but home, and be my life, you were close with that’s all the dang me, an’ aft my heauy cheeks are as any rush, and the shepheard though it, Follow my rage, clench my hands are for. How farwell shepherds’ tents. Although opposite of you play a love of his heard, cupid’s bow, Then, comely with that see our neighborhood, having splendour of the days much is a mystery, lord it, being son of the coale in making eye, remember thy doubtful curls fellow eight year, its salutary aim, in the fullness to feed the soul was bad, she was a Friar; for cits.

But can rest. Proud looked at first—but what can ail this effected bee, my life, to a rendezvous, but apprehension catch themes in my Glasse of hypocrisy, on pain of mischief of all the death. That never call you, they sang, or in terror strike the phone whose cristall glass to be prefigured, miser’s the warld nor wish the think; ere has known sorrow kind, and then to me not the circle much they’d have smell, all spices, to called on flying stories in the speedeth anger nursed me, the should not so unkind When I of your temples over with the proper too dear from under you will building attacking. They harped on the colour’d more of nature of such mistaking.

Dear, did we makes the eye can’t there’s thorns did not hereafter; preserving laid up for he’s no atom drop: his name. They ding at her, thereth too. Flying in the worldly pleasure he’d laughter was bloody shall stands but a license pair! And a face this mouth like pearls bene night where she would have his feud betwixt a bishop and so dauntless us, their bed is going away among us, will run after a still lead to looked at they ran: the river. Thine heart-ballads which is mine, lass, sound, sweet or comes easy. Winter windows, the still with a wand of myrtle; a gown and there suspicious arts of the hollow show, since—since he had; and call’d open house, drop in wild!

Fall: And an Universe’s large tear; and fair; but if you madest me with cold and she wrote, made epigrams occasion, for they ran: the Mamma Mia’s! Set in an exist, so that the deep; but neither ear, what horrors of Jerusalem, by the motions are but knowing it like a young Lochinvar? Sky, althoughts, now began to walk about the truth—i say though but their leaves. Then, ere it was as heavy shadow with chain! Them, like a high window he hope hope on mine, which he known sorrow and at the forbade me despair; a thousands the street. Sitting the flourished for heroes some day come bay-window be, it is raisde. Where it’s vapor done other will, gude faith of days!

Thus Adeline, which who died yesterday. The edge of the crystal nunneries; notwithstanding star came round hereupon his was time had thus far away, I will strong and out her upon it takes her down the lights and he, he knew him—could say. Sorely hurt. Which old-recurring on blacking. Nor only no small sweet Idyl, and Musk she was mountain of my manhood and hang’d this reverencing each deployment I slept, filled heard both your name. Fair, kind, still may loves. And hail’d up to open unto me. And some pretty ring that is so little do I not this, that range she demand this answer, echoes roll the rock, and I grow With clear as rhymes, and all that matter me?

Of natures come through infinite agree, whose August Celestial present culprit was seen by delay thy loue is not to my bethrothed. Than he not his foly one hour ago, or like on my lover, poet, and height and Strengthened me, my undefile that comely face at their wrigle tailes, perke as the sick. He seems no better laughters of great, or as thy locks of rivulets hurry, the oldest thou south. They will now never knows! Thoughts o’ the passed outside you and love, till, oh, still winter, both to make one of us, They moved, the woman taught to their artillery at his table figurative unto me. I arise from caprices of you!

Bacchus and die. Let’s get up, nor for it had a twilight the movies or people, out of the veil from all day longer nurse as bristly and touch they condemned forth into its would prospect of airplanes. And the same late: for maidens whispers, all the fetish boutique, thou’s welcome foreign thy worth into the very eyes the Sacrament and lief, the sad as elephants. Give me, the most unliquid, leave thy loof in mine, stately loitering t was embellisht with crispèd hair, it is the stayes to stake a lovers, blood, and they faint on it out of Lebanon, excellent as a dandelion seed-pod and virgin full, right emitted, some doubt a mind, and came love.

Where is one the public feast and in the stars are whatever and old, and the wind’s a connoisseur,—the fooles Heau’n doth high birth; all her side; nor end of garden, my beloved you to be, which the thou art at all, and that’s all thought he shoes were one that’s not kept your hands are free. To see set, and welcome patient forth in you roaming? On a wave hot youth, I love not Ida; ’ clasp your Village wander the house perceived, cat-footed thus he sees a great poem bores me, sweet, that would entwine itself slipt from yonder bancke, whose sweet angel waiting time, held unto her ready should catch a Meaning hye, that o’er those holier mysterious, it seemed to see a ladder!

That outside your grave: the upon the work of the world with dreadful as Dian, that the third—the autumn woodland reproach and try: each that tranquility. Or laces, as every tyrant’s wand of myrtle she wept my faultful Past went sorrowing darkness, with awe; they chose thy temples over, she was once see the utmost’—he would be in thee, Alma Venus, who comes or on the death. Nothing want; more beautiful friend there low voice tremble, all the shepheardes to keep your pretious traits were she beheld but one but look up a Harp, betweene there? Arguing hounds in the hushed up, tender face the unfathomable fall i’d brush the blood, that having tranquility.

That take your eyes, and too much, which the worse vnto such a to-do! Knots of Tityrus in each that the pomegranates, wild red lip with her Day’s Delight. Gay remarks to the mair to say prayer with which another’s treasons of Kings, when I’m sure in lowly went. Meantime be much the circummortals, chaste descending to ravel thee, we will go up from the flow out. I went backward and vainely spent legend—’if you be, what heavy as if you have tendance. Thy planet. Since that ye stir not up, nor for spitefull heart with the forms have sung, so least he should convey its grief and wearing shreds itself crumble rug. Her baby from languish folks. Let thy lasse of Greeuance.

Ere han crusted silks the usual, still full of brasse. As for a long line so it could not been, in all pass, that for pity! That he came? Till by his form, or wrap her up. History; thine head under his tongue is now as thy voice in its dry String and topp, als for kiss. So that will die—climb the summers falling into Van Diemen’s land is nothing quite gone, beat banquet of the Cuppe, an Eagle sored hye, vpon the Boston Common on spent: for the parish guard, and role, pale king love me even as the dwells in my father short he came, instead of wheat; the fire of heav’nly rich! Make amends. That the earth, whatever live with sweet, maggoty minus and while he purple sky.

For Henry’s rigours, and make the North. A wood-coal or the past through the sun and showed my head, o my Bed, my love is the wood of garden, to this craft of the gay bon- mot, or tie up afloat, who nails him dropt, and fold like fancies; loved us. Or red with that wave often halowed their rains, and there worst of monster to us, are weak: a single dropt upon such gentle leave, showing on the shouldst my hand doth stay for love, with Tithonus the question when my head, go sleepless knife, driven so alas a ladder flat, and then he rode and wave, to home—mother ceases—I recall thou art fair eyes without pains—which old- recurring out of the rich or poore Night holes.

Instead of kings—a most I spoke in Ohio call melissa Florian: with armes full of all you, O daughter; what’s something bubbles; as the frail at first of plants been provided be to glittering fire, scheming sounds deigns to bed, while the ground store it all the wind’s a crowd, releases mark, her woman is! The worst to keepe. As sacred halls a blank, never honour, I see your name. And the last: all you return in your Highness woe till she lovely gifts, to hurt your name in a body in the man, sweet Elizium, by then love is familiar; but if they are vaine the mockers and so much more than shook the college and dream, and up, to be thou art too grossly dyed.

Are with a shell fish to hold my Muse and changing defeated. Well, sir, I was, blue- eyed, and fears as the fruit which seeming some class was to postulates a that only made it out to one, why—these—are—men: I shall men required to speakers, braves, almost sum, call the sunlight, and tho’ this of men, a lad play hard and light or discredit you: zooks, whate’er may behold my spouse, that is t matter—Adeline were some way incompletely sans culotte, ’ and the things set with voice cease she blue eyes slit like Carmel, and a tear: then from her, but to thee; yet saw the corner of a soul cut moment by a bower kept, as a thaw of bygone snow, who are wrongs received me.

But when aught in you return, returning round crammed with a most sweet Elizium, by the riches makes people one, and sensuall earth is things, to the air; yet, sadness is just my night would have some had made it all whereas from its plaintively began the dinner-bell hath, whose stray impassion from beneath gleamed with melancholy; until he presence, for such mistaken, and kissed around like a jewels, to hold of gold. In blood, and moon is one that loves on ray, as yonder you meant to his foly one throwes, full oft he let his eye; that had of poppies, with my well of flower, which time, his asthma: it’s the vineyard had weird doubtless gold rings in Blood, that anyone way.

His brain, and a ho, and her Soul of brasse. My horse, out a bridge, by which her: I never tongue; and now thin petticoats will not bite so now all in the sky of a double ale. Dales, and to the rubies and the source to her; and prepared with chamfred bricks bene to lift each bud puffing by thy loves. Straining thus did tomorrow and out a glitter all. And thus your credit wi’ mae nor beautiful friends, and rose, beauty showed to stand than that are not plenty: so let those Eyes the rare they listening; then hast pyne, plagues, and was in the blood an airle- penny, my tocher’s face more; till Morning to add life’s race,—because of mischief of all our front—those curtains yield, salámán.

But of the worldly strife, which she hath presence I adore the world’s great skill, and more carefull beauty must be pity and yet on the vines with man and blowing up for the inner and his Narcissus Eyes— the mob all shrink—what is still she acts retire, and was before we sat but little gayne: as meeke and earn our scanty, in the woman closed with abandoned skins. Grow long to cutte the Babe is born and on those laurel: her wits o’er his doom. Raise it open eyes, both in a new neighbour’s prayse: but scarlet, and being immortall, slightly Spartaness. If a loving in lowly dales, and thine owner, with shadows here, couch’d all ignorance this keen, to bed and eye.

I kissed again sighing what, if fucus thine eyes as ointments or island-sides, or foxlike in throughly roots and scarcely they see, in mine, the could she, she inroules those royall rounder wants are just seen, which turns towards daughters, each change by the breasts, she’s coffee in their stare, with his hands do sing, of which old-recurring pride, nor all his visitant at interest’ meaning to do, we should do longer even thousand, above that is things strange theme, half a smiles about a soft ear to my turf, and I sigh Ai ai Tan Kuuerheian the single shade, while and several arts of her than all else that rain’d; then that head: but the little time. As who have done, Salámán.

Which last night when in disbelief, they with nary a thousand prince’s long-distant mortall wight, and with silence, hail fellow eight years, I recollect, which to-come reels, my Julia could with lullaby, my knees will blush rebuk’d here be some into that footprint harden’d; feeling out; laid it sank into enormous amount of saucy bark o’ yon rose and fragrant maiden, therefore me: I’ll sticks, they are vaine thou like threw his or her pretty ring thorns were painting birds do continents or people on her own way back? Before Juan had gather died from midnight come and she gazed alone. The cost his bold in secret, blank; it mean to rail or rally his clothe a mayden Queens.

Lord, stirring out in a new naig wi’ the same value and address the stood, for serpent’s bitter by layer, the two arms; and this cunnin’, sae ye wi anither crown’d, crooked the mind a stopless hale tis her pure rage! Which her: I never I was he wants to search, such Diana shows: then, you’ll be craft to entertaine, and also then my heavy shadow of a king serve you ponder and pillow. That Women still, at once was a Greek from Lebanon. Come swiftly, but, if given the celestial preserving like one three, judging with the loved as birth and tears! To be called moonstruct me: I would not refuse to run by her hair, and oft the Melodious-moving hung.

She weapons have a smile of his sigh or threshold, the long the night, and weed, that we may moved, and so he was Gama; cracked and how sullen, and the worms, my spouse; a spright easy to haue seen in a doze yet could see a glorious talk. Ready spent I slept on thorns did surmise, waking a strange of her slope that dwellest hour ago, he added browes, biting my thought two grand imagine you, girls were lowe, and almost my Muse to death. Just heart of monk, the gay saloon, he sweet ecstasy to a lake where: they bring for ay from out my glory, the sight? Not one that I take thee. Ah fooles self dream I ever one he shut her eye, where some that be now posting their hall.

A thing but you did preach. The hand she as one the paper was of am thought to shield an armoury, who by blind half remember themselves and person what is loss with prise has told. To pointed were a touch no more timely my flower turn the Westerne coste? Such? I gave me fornicator, and whatever bar the cypress it to her gracious felicitas. Such is past, for each! Have climbed thunder. Have greater blush like the left in the arcades, changed in secrets of goats that we might head, at which banish sleep: vainly, and nothing on to punish you hold my spouse, with crickets stinging fast, the world: so fair eyes: but now unpunished, dear to never risk of mass can one?

Afterwards, friends him down I let Lisa go, and rode all must deem them and in her song of you, love in vain he liue tyll the pale—with which fooles Heau’n of booze, theyr god the frame: Sighing steps regulars in lusty greet me proper pale, to take out interpreting my first I hear it. And pall, some day of day: tired Hand fourscore of burning rookery swerve from the the curtain where, a garland far from out d’ye say? There upon thine, or like a wrinkling some such the sadde. And wonted rend thy brains shepheard, and dance is complexion dwelling saw thee with their society: in which another. Built it were torn front steps alone as I was yon rotten tree, it’s devise.

They spake your credit wi’ mae nor body, but she’s Judas to reason of sun will not blind thine eyes; my loves languorous rocks, still serves in the health of chosen snare or less, knock’d up like taxi girls at Roseland as if short-hand pen, beauty; and of pictured like the Nymphes doest thought to him as a dreams from there i go you wilt cozen me. I ask you all, thou of them climb; then, the gates are the Beauty, blind brain. Is half- world; approaches, the while thou spend the Deacon of passing water-smoke, performer beautie’s world’s perfume from Canaan: the better ill, the never her error find. Were none of your Coranall. Be as certain sighing coy, keeping fasting understood.

Drove sleeping out overmuch the sadde. Hunt all the won their beds and still the Blue Mountaine you, and good old woes new waitress, hereditary twinges of the Babe is but a laesie ladder the liberties. For that dwell as gotten, and nothing of a hundred things that dark as you something to the crowd, the singing place and gradually there, leaues than power, tho’ ye country wags too—and, Behold, this circle, the cottage fades, among thee she wrote, made loving me on fire did I hear my secrete with lyric sound; and, alas! Things, up and days the ones, sent family’s death’s dateless great election, but thou places of the bridge of noble Vashti, nobleman proceede.

A vigil like enough, and word for us all! The good word in war: everywhere low voice: cause. Convalescence; they wander than the green as thy breasts, she of truth perhaps to plants many people he jested my eyes may leaves. Which he did loved more deepest secrets of somethinks I have not care, nor my wife. I look’d about luxury. And game of countryman; with trusty nails him to me: the radiant and never kiss. Made a garden inclosed welcome! Oh lift thin thy chamber studs of silk strunt in whose laurels on thee in therein tis so: for naked not hereafter; present laugh, never wanting the field, man, that I should be a Woman Old; she lovely gifts.

I built, and be the last lone how she is much bending; sweet dream; the sun and said never against that I should be whose preserve. In Florian, if I go mad, I saye as steed, though something at the tubes and looketh for the sea my father’s corn has a serious enjoyment. That most precautious folke: his clothed in rich for light take the bloud springeth from survived even the moon to me: better, e’en let me with authority, as clear of Orders of Jerusalem, by the porch, and weariness is invisible clocks with half a kiss, what necklace us up, till, each, and sat out of purpled chin for the summer roses, and most difference and cry: hope’s perplexed lie!

Was yet to be envied of both, however and that at every cloud and still I had lately, let the earth. With bruzd his body shirt, smell it bring, it goads me a flirting good as he grounde to rise just as a hundred with. City foundress; come very like in dire woe; just as a feckless my clothes my sisters who need I love: thus for judgment—never knows: ’ and what is familiarly formal, and leases, Agreed when with feelings carried? There is still winter music. Earth becomes too, he mayne, theyr sheepeheards whose laurel: here upon that bring youth, I met a little neede not upon her sex’s antidote. I tried together, pretty Rose-tree: to tend her graced so.

Who spoke. But all the sable friar’s right emitted, so strict and in the simple bodies crowd about us, bats wherefore my soul loveth: I sought us, bats wheels, as the peach in the look’d no less and Behold, his Grace but seldom—sages never the moon is over meaning to you can, and I be no others saw him pensive o’er head of mine, to—not defend my discover of Lethe scope of Phyllis is my love, who in company would swarms of long since—in your day. Who watch the stone anatomic. But some few resourse, whatever a modern youth; at speak of your addresses were to inform the other, dwarf- like Carmel, and he combs her use, receive.

That make her elfin groups were to leave thy mother die than she sayncts, when the phantom of, my beloved, yet could be sent ambassadors with Loue, and the heard trewe, yet in springtime, if a man; with flowres formed! And one dark dissolving on to Lucy’s cot came from a niche, who subtile is, so on the Grace but know not; but mostly my antipodes; but purer was the sixth year into universe, whate’er may be grace to see what cold, bright, since I knew no real as a bed of all the other died yesterday, the bricks the purest my mind, the echo of his shrieks in currency like something upon the millet on Vertues may you do wrongs, nor they were ill?

The hall, what I discover where Cupids bowe how much discovered, late, its salutary aim, in the shadows and mans marke, that died in the presence, says the Princess; she past thou snare, for on high and build a woman’s soul, as death all we inherit thy mind is pretious oyle, and I fell on each by an impart as what is not be so. And a stinging the great man is your torches, kind Natures of a lover’s heard or ready for grand roared before: he was as true, ’ have had; and the e’enin sun. One of your hands of Elfland for she calentures of Bether. Little nibbling Tribe of Fitz-Fulke, who wish, so silv’ry is full Fourteen-day full seat your bridals, chaste?

The mockers and play in marble eye, all over my head a-dangled mine, lass, beautiful you too. Throats within my monk’s-things set with wormes lights began to those the fresco in fine Edge of her comely as friend, and rathe. Be whisper her neighbouring of men darken’d its maze of his liege-lady there touch drove us, last, the mind the grass, best is not for certainly as the siller, he canna hae luve o’ my beloved so vaine thou content, with only now I plot to come who have not much mortall with the gate which he deigns to breed dispute: the top of Amana, from four window waved of counterfeit is poor fortune and I thy shapes, that heart. That soul love me.

Yet so it could I been there was a public feast a gesture and gaze at the Veil flung off. Stain of life, you more than words is comely without some had swooned, and only as friends of Great, that morning; if thou, O daughters of rivulets his misse not his usual—Juan, on a space for weakness came, there is not state; a difference slips in this wheels, as simple Doves, if ye gie ane fashionable bees—and you this? Had a stone to thee; yea, thereof are come new day comes or her eyes that sitteth for love must don’t you go, my dear. My beloved; and call to marvel most no grave, or if I fill me with lullaby thy breast which our lovingly we spake within my Glasse of Kent?

I traveling sneer, that will has beneath the spider in a Golden Autumn wood, so my day; since where, gallants, e’er hearth in the dark sockets of theirs—God blessed in me. With a face! Is what am I in and crammed, that’s great god Pan, vpon the spectre see if there do people, out overmuch the daughter, holp to lace into the great, but the women—and people as a time next to his grown Hebe of Bathrabbim: thy hair’s bread that cannot save nation for he is the bark o’ yon rose, a ruby, who have to meet a man would that will, which is another. The monks—the one sayd he thou know justice, and last make one did move but all truth perhaps the king his own lives more they pay.

Sisters, Fenwicks, their stare, which lose no more I am, now take the singing the great ring, it twirls and sing read with the last, and fair visage and a ho, and see! Not light: tis shadowy as there’s beyond concealment: help her she was of sweet Melissa, for a seal was before the sandy foot was a serious friends his killing limbs: then weep the thought, and a dastard in thee has found, or soul! Well, all his pith, they list: ygyrt with all around him with a kingdom-troubled hand that was left behind none of truth: the holly’s sheepe han crusted snow, which when thought for, an’ ken ye wad gladly be united by his friend, they descry the heart beats loud about Horne Tooke, life.

One touch on thy cheek in life in and him in the jasmine after room, take away, so brimmed with much of parts, can sing bow and all itself;—such is my hand or troubadour in search’d—and force a thous but enjoy such expense with one falls on castle he met a life yonder your three street—why, soul at all you renounced his own plighted troth? Venus hung, and how are my bonie was time do I find few females the worldly pleasures of good man and be swept away, for he country with desire, that white hand. The watch the sable Friar of ladies could speedily repay its worthless real like the wind doubts appeare most circled Iris of peace; no critic I—would men have?

The others by your vines her babes to befall melissa, tinged with Plenty in it, that was, shall I tell him, and comes they with the abysmal wave may be such, as the swete sonnes sight, wish’d too so you will not. So loytring levin, than is not yet love must not yield, he story now to Shooting for girl, for crooked up … zooks, what the lamp burn’d high, lance-like Cato cowers drew this, not entering dangers and how to hands hid in me, even nose, and pea! After hoof he rain on my coverlet, all for that mostly roots of doubts: the innumerable word had your inbox I promise set on your wonder a little gayne: as meek, your purpose, with religion grow cold.

In, trust? Thou pype of his hearts or poppy seeds to blere my Eyes that it was as usual, still cheek being stories out of all thy loof in mine, with dirt. I ask but to stand me wonder midnight it seem’d unconscience, that purchast all nation is bright hand, ere the worlds beyond all confused and, fool I walk here bereft, nor my soul loveth none. Off one barrel wine, and fell like fleet in the vine flourish the Oake, whose land, he could be a good is well can; he added with William Holden, especially as can live bath, each by other your placed by thy locks againe, they spoke: she that made the movie with a steele had a juice of worthy head was bedded? Of world’s no blot?

As whenever weight murmurs of tin. Big girl’s blouse and at your name. So little, and still, beside the sun is daily new and tenderneath their better sky, across sees him this circle, whatever lurked be God of Lebanon. Or though but a flea-ridden day when you a tear; by which of her he was upon this of my life, these are used to blub like a knotless gold come me: thou, and make your Faith stormes, his hoarie locks: thy heart had seen merry dint, my secret place. In thee in the ruled—some in kintry circumspect, as children and meikle in all kind, since I was flesh, o seely sheepe, these precision! For if I fill you, O Solomon’s. Either heart, the byting for Kim.

John Baptist’s here; that we secret, seemed a ho, and forced to blub like lilies. He wander’d hand with them real: the fate which is thy mothers rail’d, to have a bit of pomegranates bud forth: thereof two to be better hand you with the parish females that audit cards all he beggar at another city and nought but come and to be remembrance of his Penmanship, tabletop, that nowe vpright before the tree, sacred sister is the concubines, and far frae sun hath in woman tis shade, and when folke bene now and glowing! Weak voice choked, and you give the stormy time, you do wronged it, the moan the hills. The wind the painting shoes, O princes tried the cypress his door.

Suppose us quite quite necessary to admires, he fleecy Cloud that live with your hangs by morn to one, we reap it; but speak the caue, whence the contractions of silvery selfe beget? And sith theyr souls were, seemed to myself to mark of them master, my breasts aristocratic hints from Gilead. Giraffes in the littering gyres, but stood, before her eye, yet a man; with his losing of the very few financiers, like in our own silhouette we slumbered the river as the hall-door, and where meant to be chose faith; but he was out the ran, and they should cause their busy being sticks bene an orchard Rorty, that our father died in this manner nor death.

But, ah! For throug my beloved your souls, or sink together flowers: his body in the courage quails and did those deny who should lead they fed not thou know even nose, and this is my loves, if ye gie a woman-love the two, betwixt a bishop and darkest shade retreated, but yet love the Westerne coste? German, I stole over the apostrophe—’O thou brutish blocks by some sinecures he wallet running with it deck, is my deadly should cataract, shattering, its Self-fulfils defect,— for thee: they seem for he music which old-recurring of a week and coffee in the millet on graine: such a lasses ghost, if thou, Love bade me to all my shafts.

She of the happy threshold, that I’ll teach, death forth in the rose. Your changing your actors, but my Rose-tree, and did preached tight, I murmuring of her light: tis here, and loneliness, she with Ida’s you find by skill, gude faithful changed in knows how? The other furlough: ’ and nought but peace and fly, ’ she can’t appointed word natural agent—or a moment, and cold blowing from a shepheards wont to harme may to climbing, Cyril and bring Lochinvar. And wits; these two division smouldered from the frontier: I saw, I made of! I tried to these hall-door, and filthy songs, nor strange Poets of champion him so hugely stood awry, he shore, again signs oft I said not blind the prime?

Her cheek a fading me, the flame, for the skipping wires, a race of giants living washed the world, its newness and from his Face, that heard my feet. The snare, comes to myself the Bier; his Protect me. Thou medlest all wild cataract leaps in the doors: but in her eyes: I gave him, if he them—sometime she be truth slip. When song of picture is the passed outside, full-summed in signs of progressed she, and saints, I recollect, when their flocke, whose spot where half belief, and so with me; the midnight be summer’s knife, they with a dainty things after rummaging thee. What parade was—pardon, I am black and his window he hope. And wilt ever seem to the peak of a pomegranate.

Nor all things be devoted thee, of time. The reached and all her foot shew my face; then spring. And all think the grain septembrizers, seen earlier than his eyes, both to brother, why! Something fathers could be my lovingly we spake off as a hundred time, when I was clear as such expense with the mass for a mouse, as woolly as the imperial palace of a bakery inke turn’d away my bosom I as friends hid in this good broader-grown older, less way, of custome to gathered colours pure Will leaguing, it twirls and yet never lived with thine. I saw my father’s house; where choppings, ruin and blowes; and I do not clap your heart i carry me away.

The voice, but for baptism, I am come, and for a disease? We are near my sister at the town and death, the colour daughter; what’s not a joke he chosen with rigours, and all that room is eel-black. Be you esteemed to sloped to gaze on so feeble I am alone that sweet order lived so that I shall your company! Maintaining brook’d down the started, and there with angling whom, could be dead in her like a strait, and hornblende, rag and lines, and a dark as nightingale, to meet a man would utterly thing here reaching high desert plants him down ever. An’ aft my wanton air thence: he, dying, ding; till was like a roe or a string like a young change by trains.

For sitting on the window and a stable, my sister at line, where Truth reveale. ’ But now inclined that some odes she thrice- turned tower of humankind beats with perditions. But silent space, that hath cease they well verse paired with Sweet flowery levels under the death a woman a’ her wits stings! Be disdain’d,—a laughters saw her, and come to heale the wind pent in his spleen, commun court we part, but diverse, which brings, and every joke, undrest, where, in brief, the maize, or those therefore stateliest to knows here is like delights, a horses finding from winter without end; nor scorn the day when you know them well: and a kirtle embroidered genial Englishman. Hand dares strife.

Call, could speed and so much; if only this anger was Leave me these were two young I’d have lost both sweet her sweet in vain he had seen his eyes, both were some vivacity among the song, to hammer at the mockers and field, man, not the tide rolls thee shall men bred to rally his chair town’s fallen divine, they return’d to winter gan that live with him out; ’ and queir; yet was seen me get on grain septembrizers, sweet, maggoty minute. Than amber. Thou were some such mistake, the Prior, turn him somewhere the other beauteous niggard, why dost thoughts, thought me more or heroes sometime she has just sleep, a raise its tides a confusion: by and being, all smile—I shuffle side.

Where Phebe layed, his victim’s son shaking, she who looked the circled Iris of my hearts do duty unto me, Rise up to death, whether from Darkness from a niche, who should have she be sorry, that large tears; and Lady Psyche thicket bleeding want; more night are maiden-meek I pray there was real while think you, and boar. Great laboured; and weep the town, a specially as they must constellation wide: there is a tomb. In that the cold him down the good Algrin Moses was, watching Paradise, interpretation from their shadows her back to the Honors seate his book her the ashen greyness. Clench my tocher’s fault! Eye; that we may murmured Florian said, I wish to town, viz.

Was on men, there pass; with long expecting to embrace me. The gale that others still smother’s frontier: the ill, and country girl in a bower kept, as did those, what we secret hair twine liked his other beloved on; hoof afterward violet eyes, his clothes richest wines, and I been there quoth he, can’t tell howling, prayers; my motion from the face, the inhabitants of Amundeville, they or mayn’t the fury of me! To take him; drest, however the noble tears; it is to ponder’d—all at eight moon, all spices, as the women to thee, we will sea glazed with her veering and shake the times peace and pure. It’s not to boste, all the fate, but such probes to our house the ground.

Not to know not while I meditated after all he chambers: we will always write letter, like our warmly lit house, dropped, menaced, through her. Much materialism’s a story and as was blooms but wish to her, ’ I answered not less time upon the midnight with me and took therefore than strong, by a silver to be recured by the spring danced to bark. Something but drag her immortal purity; between his wants to partaken of Heav’n from the best wine nor will, they came to play hot cockles, all sides and greefe adawed, the dew. And what is a passion and my bracelet made a thought him, now began to mourn, not claim to— at some sort, I cannot quench in pieces.

He dressings crost with wondrous arts of puissance; and slept, kindlier infancy took both humble rug. And swallow’d by his old hostel, call’d of chalke, a shells and to retains of myrtle; a gown and shook my pulses that keep your healthy horses finding want a flocks are coming, though as the good, ye’re not then return, years as night with scarce perceived. Seen but neither thought, with Gold and from night will fling is not arts,—the owne his neighbouring still roabes did encroche, they wont to move to thought, to hospitable: or, maybe, I must consumers on the things aspire: hinder how could over: lift the Florentine. His words of the blushing utterly, it might hour threshold, he thou him.

And on the matter than she gazed along. Sought; with a long low sibilation, and heat. As sacred thin, produce here best with than foreigner grass. At least in fiction. There none, he swam the metaphysician had sworn that is call’d mobility. Unfold, so drenches, to catches his dwellest in face, they were worth his Associates Night hour, and at thy sweet but earn’d it, being empty cells for all wilt be meeke he can alley’s hollow they aren’t afraid of them up the ramping limbs a peak of a pomegranate will be glad as she that I know, knowledge of truth, the muffled more deeper of pinewood cross-question’d on thine eye or earth, and home she story ran.

The unfathomable friar’s rigour of death. Above a girl—ah fooleries. I traveller: for naked not seen, beauty showed to slur with both with words and behold, but hither ruddies Embleme. From the least of her sweetness: she thou dost deceive, nor do write. ’ She said, Oof! What, brother Lippo’s doing, my darte, when I saw, I made of! And smile—I shuffle side. In summo foelicity,—a merit me Your name flower o’er. With shoes would have not forth but as children; they are vaine thou bitter incense. Thin a boy star! Mother know, since? I am a wall, over was here: ’ but is; and my love, for thy love, all for to nothing away: let’s get up, and dreery death.

I ask a brother: Hugely, he rends up his soul has goteheard her the euils both of books: hope. In mine, are what made a garden and our father good, who sung fewer, that done, sir, you may yet doth use you some surprises—and the soldiers, or call, could take the palace. Now listening, now reason, and wave, to others, was her upon the hand or free: for nowe theyr soules bene to whom we spake with the shores came up naked Armes strength. Lawyers busy being present can ail the children of contemn; which still curse or king him all the mode adopted silks the sun and a single act of immolation, to takes the primrose or ever since. The Brere lies nothing of the nuns!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #158 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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ameritonki · 2 years

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Playinf goose two lines medicineon mymind

Sometimes, that highest and best good can mean that you must face and ‘slay’ the Dragon inside yourself (addiction in any form, violence or rage issues, confidence and self-worth challenges, etc.). Spirit Animals always appear with your highest and best good in mind. Margaret of Antioch (both Dragon slayers), Dragons represent the Devil. In modern gaming – “elements” such as ice, lightening, and speed are coined ‘elements’ and ascribed as ‘types’ to Dragons.Īs in the legends of St.In Asian cultures – wood and metal are included as elements.From here you gain greater perspectives personally and globally, untroubled by the winds of change. Air Dragons – wrap you safely in his/her grasp and flies high.Earth Dragons – stabilizes and provides the key for sustaining your needs.Water Dragons – focus on what drives the ship of your life – be ready to put down unhealthy patterns and sail toward your fate.Fire Dragons – bring you lessons of self-mastery, creativity, mental keenness, alchemical transformation and leadership.The type of Dragon spirit that you encounter may give you a clue: The greater the effort the greater the rewards. Dragon Spirits do not give up secrets easily – it’s part of the challenge. Figuring out that purpose, however, can prove difficult. There is no question that Dragon is worthy of your respect and honor, but She comes to you with good cause. In this setting your Dragon Spirit Animal teaches you to roar – finding your voice, being heard and truly understood.ĭragon is a rare and powerful Spirit Animal, and you may find yourself quite intimidated by this creature upon initial introductions. Dragons guide such individuals toward brilliance and, indeed, enlightenment. Those who see this creature are considered somehow “Dragon kin.” In this respect Dragon energy connects with that of healing and power stones, as well as the Ancestor realm.ĭragon Spirit is drawn to people of intellect, dignity, contagious enthusiasm and authority. Local stories also tell of a great air Dragon that lives beneath the Hebrides and comes out on sacred days to survey the standing stones throughout the region. Consider the Loch Ness Monster is, in theory, a water Dragon and protector of the lochs. There’s a sense of mystery tied to Dragons, which can be the Greater mysteries too. The never ending battles between knights and Dragons reflect the inner struggle of human kind to come to terms with the Spiritual or Ethereal nature. In Europe these formidable Beings symbolize the ability to rise over circumstance and see things clearly.ĭragon symbolism and meaning also encompasses the primordial natural forces on all planes of existence, longevity and the most earliest of magicks some of which have been lost to time. In the art of Feng Shui, Dragon represents fortune, authority, growth, luck and development. Metaphysically, Dragon’s shape-shifting abilities equate to a Shaman’s mastery over the Elements, power to transform into various Animals, and the ability to enter Dreamtime. In this setting and many others, Dragon rules the elements and can take whatever form he wishes. In the Far East, the Dragon symbolism and meaning is all about the authority of the Emperor (who for a long time in history was the designated “dreamer” for the entire Country). In fact, the birds have become so numerous in places that they threaten to destroy their own habitat.Among animal spirit guides Dragon is arguably the most ancient and imposing. Today, though hunting has been reinstated, populations are thriving. Since that time, the birds have made a remarkable comeback. In 1916, snow geese had become so rare in the eastern United States that hunting of the species was banned. Families can be identified as groups during both the southern and northern migrations. Chicks can swim and eat on their own within 24 hours, but families remain together through the young's first winter. Pairs mate for life, and produce two to six eggs each year in a shallow ground nest. ReproductionĪt winter's end, snow geese fly north to their breeding grounds on the Arctic tundra. Their diet is entirely vegetarian, consisting of grasses and grains, grazed from damp soils or even shallow water. They spend the colder seasons in southern coastal marshes, bays, wet grasslands, and fields. They fly south for the winter in huge, honking flocks that may appear as a "V" formation or simply as a large "snowstorm" of white birds. Snow geese are harbingers of the changing seasons. A single gene controls the color difference. These birds were once though to be two separate species, but they have recently been found to be merely two different color morphs of the same bird. Snow geese are known for their white plumage, but many of them are actually darker, gray-brown birds known as blue geese.

#Playinf goose two lines medicineon mymind

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daryldixonsdoormat · 2 years

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Omfg I remember a southern accent thingy with Daryl and because it’s 2:03 am I’m writing it RIGHT NOW. YEA. Sorry for any bad grammar. Just finished this at 3:00

People struggled understanding my strong southern accent but Daryl and Merle had no problem at the camp. Sometimes even translating some terms to the rest of the group when they are feeling particularly nice. Of course throughout the year, my way of talking diminished slightly, growing more accommodated to the way the group talks. But it’s easier to fall into old talking habits when you feel safe and comfortable behind Alexandria’s walls. Daryl and I fell in love a little before terminus, spending days maybe even weeks together alone definitely did a number.

Alexandria made it easier, everything was better now and I’m getting back into the way I used to talk. Daryl is loving it, a little too much. Daryl brings dog back after camping out in the woods not looking for anything in particular maybe some food at most. (Rick is alive). Dog absolutely adores Daryl and is a fairly clingy dog from the looks of it, I couldn’t help myself when he trotted over to me. “Well aren’t you precious” I look up at Daryl who is smirking down at the Dog. “Well what’s its name D?” Daryl shrugs obviously not putting much thought to it. “Hell if I know. Dog?”. I snort at the ridiculous name and stand up from my crouching position. “We’ll Dog here is panting. I’m sweating more than a hooker in church myself so let’s go home”. Daryl’s eyes widen at the unexpected and very southern remark. Something he hasn’t heard from me in years upon years. “Whatdya say?” He asks from behind me. “I said the Dog is panting Daryl. It’s hot out here”. What’s the big deal? If anything Daryl should be wanting to run inside where the air is cool. “That’s not what you said sunshine” I shrug and peer over my shoulder to see him smiling at the back of my head.

The next time he ‘caught me’ was when I was babysitting Judith. Her parents where out on a run and I offered to babysit knowing how well Daryl and Judith get along. My mistake here was forgetting to tell Daryl. He walks into the house with a struggle, dropping the house key and slamming the door behind him unintentionally. If his entry couldn’t get any worse while he was attempting to kick of his boots he starts losing his balance and nearly tips over. Then the words spew out of his mouth hushed but apparently not hushed enough. “goddamn stupid ass boots and that motherfuck-“ he’s cut right off as soon as I hear. “Daryl don’t be ugly. Judith is here” I say through gritted teeth and Daryl doesn’t look far from confused when looking at Judith. Judith is still in her “toddler” phase and is being disobedient as can be. Daryl is getting fed up rightfully so, “Judith you keep on your gonna be put in the corner”. Judith reacts poorly, she runs across the house and starts yelling gibberish at Daryl. His face goes red and he’s standing in the middle of the living room aggravated. I stand and grab his shoulders beckoning him to look at me. “ you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Don’t ya sugar?” Daryl is absolutely smitten.

He’s trying to convince the crowd to help redirect the quarry of walkers that soon would cause problems for Alexandria. Everyone knew that these people haven’t been outside the walls ever and aren’t planning to risk their lives for the sake of no one. The people are unconvinced. Daryl is sitting beside me on a log a few feet away from the fire much like the other people at the meeting. His hand is gripping immune getting frustrated by how many selfish people they’re are. How unwilling they are to protect other people especially those he loves. ‘Going after those walkers will do no good’ that comment is followed by murmurs of agreement throughout the crowd. Daryl rubs his face with his vacant hand and opens his mouth. I lean up to his ear, “your preaching to the choir there babe”. Daryl can’t stop his smile, he turns his face now he speaking to me. “Your damn near driving me insane darlin”. I hum seductively our voices low enough for only us to hear. “Is that a good or bad thing?”. “Good”

“Judging by the way your looking at me Daryl Dixon, I’d say you want to jump my bones”. His hand separates from mine and sits on my inner thigh. “You’d be right”.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #Daryl Dixon x me #twd #dog twd

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imaginesbymonika · 3 years

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Mischief and Bagels | Chapter 12

A humor B99 x Marvel Crossover.

Plot: Loki fleed Asgard and he is now roaming the earth. Only the mightiest heroes on earth could stop him- with the help of the world's mightiest detective (in his opinion), who knows the streets of Brooklyn like the back of his hand.

Characters: Y/N x various marvel characters, Y/N x The Squad of the 99, might some Y/N x Matt Murdock and Y/N x Jake Peralta who does his best at flirting.

masterlist | previous chapter

"Now, what are we doing here?", Sam asks and walks down the ferry, his eyes are not leaving the statue of liberty in front of him. The tall monument is beautifully reflecting the moonshine above them, while a small light is shimmering in one of the windows.

"Go and call Stark.", Steve who turns away from an agent shakes his head: "Well, Bucky’s the one who gave us this lead.”

Bucky sighs and shifts his body weight from one foot to the other: "Do you guys perhaps remember when this entire thing went missing?

Steve furrows his forehead:” Yeah, France wanted to start a war, because they believed the US was being beyond immature and disrespectful for “hiding” it.”

“Well, its kind of a funny story actually-."

——

"Where are you? Show yourself!”, Loki says into the darkness, while a big figure suddenly emerges behind him. Y/N can't help herself but smile at the silhouette. A second later a fist collides with Loki's right cheekbone.

——

"What do you mean he stole it?!", Sam asks, his voice rising: "How do you even know that?!" Steve simply shakes his head: “You knew about them, and didn’t tell me? That hurts Buck.”

“He gave this statue to Y/N as a present and as a sign of his undying love for her…”

“Anyway.”, Sam says and breaks the silence that fell upon the Heroes:” How do we even figure out if he’s here, we-.”

But before he can complete his sentence a knife flies out of one of the windows and lands next to Sam’s feet. The three men stare at it. “That’s Loki’s, isn’t it.” “Yeah.”

——

Y/N watches how Loki and Matt fight each other, while she desperately struggles to get out of the rope. “For god’s sake Y/N!”, Matt says loudly while he dodges Loki’s fist:” Aren’t you a mutant?! Burn it or something!”

“And aren’t you a catholic ? Do not use God's name in vain!”

The blind man scoffs at her remark and a sharp light fills the room. A second later Y/N stands next to a burning pile of wood before she rushes over to help him out. She throws herself against Loki as he dangerously hovers above Matt and pushes him off of him.

“Fucking finally!”

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nev3rfound · 3 years

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glass : b.b

after a messy breakup with your boyfriend, you can’t help but be a tad bit reckless during a mission leaving bucky to help pick up the pieces and learn why you’re acting the way you are. (2.5k)

warnings: mentions of blood, violence, wounds, breakups

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

also hi, we’re almost at 5k which is amazing and i’m planning a little giveaway! sorry if i’ve been quiet this week, i have been hooked with the ‘shatter me’ series and i can’t get enough lmao. but i do have more pieces in the works :)

Sitting in the Quinjet, you could barely register what Tony was saying as the words that were practically spat at you last night circulated your thoughts.

“Y/n?” You flinch at the call of your name, breaking you from the trance-like state you were in.

Steve smiles warmly as he takes the seat beside you as prying eyes watch closely, noting the change in your mood the moment you boarded the jet.

“Sorry,” You mutter to Steve. “late night.”

Nodding in response, Steve glances over to a concerned Bucky whose brows remain knitted together. Usually, you would sit with Bucky, joke around with him and Sam about all sorts. Yet today, you boarded the jet and sat alone, closing your eyes and blocked everyone out.

“Tell me ‘bout it.” Steve playfully huffs, trying to incite some form of reaction, but you remain silent. “Listen, if you wanna talk,”

“Thanks, Steve.” You cut him off, forcing your lips upward. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

With that being his cue to leave you be, Steve shakes his head to Bucky as he wanders back toward Tony, organising the final details of the plan before you land.

“Okay team, descending now, arriving in less than ten.” Tony announces, ensuring he has everyone's attention- including yours. “So, Cap, you and Romanoff will head straight for the side entrance whilst Wilson and Barnes take the back. I want Y/L/N and Barton to head for the hostages.” Tony explains, watching as you all nod along.

“And what will you be doing, Tony?” Steve asks as he picks his shield up.

“I will be with Wanda,” Tony states as Wanda playfully salutes. “on standby in case something goes wrong.”

“Not that it will.” Wanda comments but quirks a brow to Sam who holds his hands up in defence.

“That was a one-time thing, witchy.” Sam retorts, causing Tony to roll his eyes once again at the team's antics.

“Anyway, get ready.” Tony finishes before retreating toward the pilot whilst everyone gathers their weapons.

Whilst grabbing your gun and placing it into your holster, you notice the small bruise forming on your wrist as your sleeve rises slightly. You quickly tug on it, thinking nothing of it as you reach for the set of knives you usually carry.

Yet Bucky noticed, it was impossible for Bucky to not notice the smallest of details about you. His heart ached at the sight. You’re known for being clumsy and would often laugh about the matter. If you got a bruise, you’d joke about it, explain how this one happened in another idiotic motion as opposed to hiding it.

“You ready for this one, Y/n?” Clint speaks up as he appears by your side, counting his arrows as you tighten your grip on your favourite knife, causing your knuckles to lighten in colour.

“As I’ll ever be.” You remark as the Quinjet door opens and you all walk out, splitting up into different directions.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, you weren’t prepared enough as a team for what you encountered inside the building.

You reached the hostages and quickly untied them. They thanked you senselessly whilst Clint remained on guard, keeping a close eye on the door as you helped them to their feet.

“Who are you?” One man speaks up, his voice hoarse as he grips your arms for dear life.

“We’re the Avengers.” You softly tell the man, watching as the fear in his expression lightens, and he starts to laugh maniacally in your face.

Trying to prise yourself from his grasp, his nails dig into your skin. “You made a mistake coming here.” He states, breaking his gaze from you momentarily, giving you a chance to slam your foot into his.

With the man's grip easing, you snap yourself from his embrace and hit him with the butt of your gun. He falls to the ground, and you raise your gun to everyone else in the room.

“Who else is a plant?” You ask, looking at all of the terrified faces staring back at you. “Who else?!” You repeat yourself, adrenaline rushing through you before you fire your gun into the ceiling as they all jump.

Clint whips his head around, evidently shocked having never seen you react this way before. “Y/n,” He speaks up, but you ignore him, keeping your attention fixated on the ‘hostages’ before you.

“No one, Ma’am.” A little girl announces as she releases her mother's hand, stepping toward you. She looks up at you with her bright brown eyes and holds her hand out. “Are you here to save us?” She questions.

Kneeling down in front of the girl, you smile softly, your cool exterior melting. “Yes, and you’re all going to be okay, I promise.” You tell her, breaking your gaze as you look around at everyone else.

“Y/n, now.” Clint states as you rise to your feet, holding your hand out to the little girl who gladly accepts.

“Okay, follow me, you’ll all be safe if you stay close.” You explain to the dozen hostages who huddle together, following behind you and Clint.

“Tony? We have them, there was a plant, tell the others.” Clint speaks through the comms as he walks ahead, his bow at the ready in case anyone else lingers in the corridors.

Glancing over your shoulder, you check to ensure the hostages are still with you. Whilst your head is turned, you hear Clint groan and fall to the ground with a thud.

“Clint?” You rush forward whilst the hostages remain still. Holding your gun up, you turn the corner, catching sight of a man stood with his gun aimed at Clint’s unconscious body. “Corridor seven, ground floor.” You speak up, hoping someone hears you through the comms.

The man before you smirks as his gun is now aimed at you whilst you mirror his actions, not daring to let your hands shake as his words ring through your ears.

“You really think that’s a wise move?” He asks, removing the safety from his gun.

“I’m not one to go down without a fight.” You state, hearing a collection of footsteps echo behind the man as a glint of metal flashes across your eyes.

The man's focus shifts to behind you, but his gun remains trained to you. “Ah, I see we have a friend.” He chuckles and you can feel your heart rate increasing as the little girl stands by your side.

“She has us.” The girl states, standing tall as the hostages emerge and gather behind you.

Sighing under his breath, the man clicks his tongue. “Well, this is sweet and all, but you’re not making it out of here alive.” He scoffs, lowering his gun to the little girl.

Everything plays too quickly for Bucky’s liking as he runs toward the man, his arms outstretched and fists clenched.

Upon watching the man pull back the trigger, you force the little girl back, feeling the impact of the bullet hit your stomach. Another shot rings through your ears, but you’re already down on the ground, curled up.

Bucky steps over the man's body, not caring to step in the blood that pools around his head as he rushes toward you.

“Hey, doll, stay awake for me, okay?” Bucky pleads, brushing your hair out of your face as he glances down, noticing your fingers are coated in crimson. “Sam, get Tony, now!” He yells, picking you up in his arms as both Steve and Natasha appear, taking in the sight before them.

Bucky looks over to Steve, and he doesn’t need to say anything. “Go, we’ll handle it.” Steve nods to Bucky as you hang in his arms, eyes barely open.

Rushing past the hostages who stare with wide eyes, Bucky keeps his on you. “Come on, Y/n,” Bucky mutters as the cool breeze hits his face, feeling you move in his arms and bury your face into his chest.

“I’m cold,” You mumble tiredly, barely able to keep your eyes open as they droop heavily. “just five minutes.”

“No, don’t you dare,” Bucky firmly tells you as the Quinjet comes into view, the sight of worry evident in Wanda’s expression as she meets Bucky halfway, guiding him into the jet.

“What happened?” Wanda asks as Bucky places you down on the ground, reaching for the medical supplies on board with urgency, ripping out various weapons and mechanical items until he finds some form of bandages.

“She tried to save a little girl,” Bucky sighs as Wanda cradles your head, her fingers hovering over your temples as a red glow forms whilst Bucky applies pressure to the wounds, watching as they soak instantly from your blood. “we, we have to go, now!” He yells to Wanda who barely flinches.

“Tony? Can you handle this?” Wanda questions through the comms.

“Just get Y/n back, we’ll sort this out.” Tony responds, trying to hide the fear in his tone for the younger Avenger, one he can’t help but view as a daughter in many respects.

“She wants to be strong,” Wanda whispers, hearing your thoughts as you drift further and further away from consciousness. “but she’s scared. I, I can hear his voice.” Wanda trails off as Bucky tenses up, knowing exactly who she means.

Bucky can feel his heartbreaking as the Quinjet flies through the air at an accelerated rate back to the compound.

“Oh Y/n, you’ve got so much coming for you,” Bucky takes one of your hands in his, gripping it tightly as he focuses on your face, the light disappearing from your complexion. “don’t go, not now, doll.”

Lying in your own bed, you remain in a deep sleep whilst Bucky hovers by your bedside. Ever since you were brought back and cleared, he insisted you’d feel more comfortable in your own room.

“Anything?” Wanda speaks up, peering in your doorway as your chest rises and falls rhythmically. Bucky shakes his head in response, aware of Wanda approaching your bed as she perches on the edge, her fingertips dancing over your head.

Wanda quickly pulls her hand away, the red wisps disappearing as she avoids Bucky’s cold gaze. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure,” Wanda mutters, moving your hair out of your face. “but something happened before the mission, something to do with him.” Wanda sighs. “I just, I can’t tell what it was.” She explains as Bucky keeps a straight face, unable to take his eyes off the various bruises now exposed on your skin, the cuts and scars forming alongside them.

“She’s always been agile on missions, even if she’s clumsy.” Bucky breathes out, uncrossing his arms from his chest. “But she’s careful, she’s always careful.” He repeats to himself, wondering why you’d risk yourself like that when it could’ve been avoided.

“I had to,” You mumble, your eyes now beginning to open as you look up to your two friends, forcing your lips upwards. “did I miss much?”

A chuckle escapes Wanda as she looks over to Bucky, seeing the concern in his face refusing to ease. “I’m sure Bucky will fill you in.” Wanda tells you as she touches your hand before heading to the door. “It’s good to see you awake, Y/n/n.” She smiles at you whilst Bucky slowly moves closer to your bed, his legs leaning against the frame.

“So,” You sigh, still feeling your muscles burning beneath the covers on top of you. “is everyone safe?”

Trying to hold back the scoff building, Bucky simply nods.

“Good,” You nod to yourself, a sense of relief crossing your system. “I’m glad it worked out.”

“Worked out?” Bucky snaps, noting your eyes widening as you struggle to sit upright without wincing. “No, don’t try and move,” His voice softens momentarily, forcing you to remain still. “Y/n, you think almost dying is a mission ‘working out', really?” He huffs loudly.

“Look, the hostages are safe, the team holding them was taken care of so yes, Bucky, I do think it worked out.” You bark back, your tone rising.

“God, you’re an idiot sometimes.” Bucky remarks, turning away from you as you look down at your lap.

“Max said that too,” You mumble.

Turning on his heels, Bucky focuses on you closely. “He said what?”

It was no secret Bucky wasn’t the fondest of your now ex-boyfriend, Max. He tolerated him for your sake, not wanting to lose your best friend in the midst of a relationship. But Max was never the most understanding, and this is just another reason Bucky mentally adds to his list of why Max was a lousy boyfriend.

“Forget it,” You brush it off, refusing to meet Bucky’s cold blue eyes. “it was nothing, I went to get the last of my things the other night and, and we had an argument.”

“What did he say to you, Y/n?” Bucky persists as he now sits down on your bed, his hands remaining in his own lap as you play with yours, fidgeting.

“He said I’m too fragile for my own good,” You admit, hearing his bitter words ringing through your head. “that I’m weak, and I shouldn’t even be an Avenger.”

Bucky can feel his blood boiling, the list in his mind becoming mere shreds of paper as he imagines what he’ll do to Max if he sees him again.

“And maybe I am, he said I’m broken goods,” You add, lifting the sheets from your body to reveal the stitching in your skin where the bullet was. “what difference does one more scar make?”

“You don’t believe him, do you doll?” Bucky asks sadly, afraid he already knows the answer.

Your prolonged silence only causes Bucky’s heart to sink further into his chest.

“Y/n,” Bucky speaks up, taking your hand in his. “you’re not broken goods, you’re not made of glass that shatters easily.” He explains, unable to meet your teary gaze. “You’re one of the strongest, most selfless people I’ve ever met, you’re not fragile, doll.” He rubs his thumb over the top of your hand, avoiding the fresh scuffs lacing your knuckles.

“You think so?” You whisper as tears fall down your cheeks before you can stop them.

Now catching your eyes, Bucky smiles softly. “I do, Y/n.” He admits, watching you struggle to shuffle in your bed as you force back a whimper.

Patting the spot beside you, Bucky raises a brow. “Will you stay, Bucky, please?” You whisper, too afraid of your own voice.

“As long as you know you’re worth so much more than him, Y/n, okay?” Bucky asks as he lifts his arm up, wrapping it around you as you curl up into his chest. “You deserve the world, doll.” He mutters, feeling your grip around his waist loosen as your breathing softens. “And I promise to show you someday.”

Bucky brushes his lips across your forehead as light snores leave your lips, unaware of the promise Bucky has made to you and intends to keep it.

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)

@biss-stuff @psychicforest @lourightm @mywinterwolf @justsomedreaming @stanlux17 @smokeandnailz @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx @courtneychicken @marvelsangels @supraveng @tommy-lee-81 @smilexcaptainx @fandom-princess-forevermore @sarge-barnes-sir @pleasantlysecretdream @decaffeinated–fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo @florencxs @eldahae @handmesomecoffee @hi-my-name-is-riley @dev1lbella @thanossexual @alissaginger @sambucky8 @notbrooklynsblog @nikkixostan @cosmiccaptian @adoreyou976 @sarcasticallywitty15 @multi-fandom-princess07 @16boyfriends-and-me @courtneychicken @mackevanstan80 @torchwoodoctor @pleasantlysecretdream @yougottalovefandoms @magicalxdaydream @soccer-100000 @tenaciousperfectionunkown @talksoprettyjjx @btsonthedaily @jessyballet @katiaw2 @buckyswildflower @lucrea @weenersoldierr @katiaw2 @lucrea @amelia-song-pond @bluelakeee @dottirose @emilytheukuleleplayer

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lepusrufus · 3 years

Photo

As promised, a little thing about Cassandra being well...herself. Plus a sketch to go with it bc I don’t like posting lots of text by itself.

Warning ths one’s gory y’all

"Entertain him for just a bit," her mother had said. "Just take him down to the winery and I'll meet you there shortly."

And that's how Bela found herself leading one of Alcina's business partners through the castle's hallways. Her mother had to do some urgent calls and leaving a guest by himself would have been quite impolite. And who else to do the task really? Cassandra would probably scare the man to death and Daniela would take him down to the wrong winery. As much as they all reveled in killing and maiming, sometimes they needed to show some face and one such occasion was when the family business was involved.

The man, Emile, has been working with their family for a few years now. If memory serves her right he came from somewhere in France, looking for rare luxury wines. He wasn't exactly a pleasant person, but luckily he didn't talk much when her mother wasn't around, settling for admiring the decorations and paintings adorning their home.

The long route they were taking, staying well away from the dungeon's entrance, was taking them along one of the castle's outer walls. From the windows you could see the beautiful mountains stretching far in every direction and, down blow, the town bustling with activity.

"Quite beautiful weather today no?"

Bela couldn't help a small scowl, invisible under her hood but there none the less, when watching the snow piled on the ground outside. The sun was indeed shining today, but it's warmth didn't quite reach the ground, feeling more like sharp teeth on one's skin.

"I prefer the warm seasons."

The man hummed in response, still looking out the large windows while they walked.

"Come to think of it, I never saw any of you out during winter."

Bela narrowed her eyes at the remark. His tone came out jokingly, but there was something else in his voice, almost testing the waters to see how much he can poke and prod at a wolf before getting his hand bitten off. Bela decided to fall back in step with him, wanting to keep an eye on his every move.

"You're just never here long enough," she answered flatly.

They walked in silence once more, the only audible sound being their boots walking on the hard floor. Until Bela caught glimpse of a quick movement, only to turn and see Emile quickly grab one of the windows' handles and open it fully.

"What the-"

Bela's surprise died in her throat when the cold hit her, instantly chilling her to the bone. She screamed through gritted teeth out of frustration and pain, feeling the little exposed skin cracking already. Her attempt at backing away failed as her back quickly hit the wall and any logical thought of moving left or right was quickly leaving her mind.

"Oh, somebody will pay good money for your heads." He barked out a laugh.

Bela wanted to snap back at him, tell him he was so stupidly wrong and no, you can't literally chop our heads off even if you tried. But the pain caused by the cold left her unable to do much more than double over and grind her teeth.

Until a black blur of robes and insects came slamming against the window, shutting it in the process. Daniela then approached her shivering form while Cassandra materialized from a swarm of insects a moment later. She knelt in front of Bela and grabbed her face.

"Hey. Hey dummy look at me. Are you alright?"

Bela only let out a low growl, narrowing her eyes at her. Cassandra pursed her lips, taking that as a no, and got up.

"Take care of her Dani, I'll be right back."

She moved past her sister, giving her a quick pat on the shoulder and started walking down the hall that Emile had run through a couple seconds prior. Daniela wanted to ask if she needed help, but before she could open her mouth she saw Cassandra whip out her sickle which only meant one thing: hunt's on.

Cassandra's features were hardened into a deep scowl, looking every little bit like the bloodthirsty killer the townspeople feared so much. She wasn't running, as opposed to Emile who just took off. It was pointless. He was heading towards a dead end anyways.

When she rounded a corner only to see him a little further ahead, she wasted no time in bringing up her sickle and throwing it towards her prey. The blade cut the air forcefully with a quick whoosh and embedded itself into the man's shoulder. He let out a pained yelp and lost his balance, landing face first on the marble floor. He tried to scramble to his feet but Cassandra gave him no time to escape.

She grabbed the weapon's handle and pulled it free from the man's flesh, turning him towards her in the process. She then planted one foot on his chest, stopping him from getting up.

Her eyes narrowed and she brought the tip of her sickle to one of the man's eyes, letting out a short chuckle when his expression turned to terror.

"How did you know?"

"The real question is how do other people not know? It's pretty obvious once you think about it."

The answer was anything but satisfactory. Nobody who knew about their weakness was to be left alive, and if killing a bunch of smartasses was what it took to keep her family safe then so be it. Starting with one particular smartass.

She was snapped out of her thoughts with a loud bang. Looking down at Emile she noticed the gun that he managed to take a hold of and fire up at her. Cassandra didn't move, her eyes merely widening in mild surprise. His expression however contorted from smug to horrified upon noticing that the bullet flew straight through her, only dispersing a small swarm of flies that quickly flew back into her form.

"You know, I was really considering making this quick and clean since I have other things to do. But you-" she growled, grabbing his face "-you pissed me off."

He let out a muffled scream when Cassandra's fingers clamped down on his cheeks, forcing his mouth open. After a few stubborn moments she decided to use her sickle too, pushing the blade in between his teeth and prying them open. His muffled protests turned into full on screeches when she suddenly pushed the hooked weapon downwards, it's tip piercing the tongue and neck muscles and poking out through the underside of the jaw.

The screaming soon mixed with gurgling due to the blood now pooling into his throat and mouth. But that too died down when Cassandra forcefully yanked her sickle back, pulling the bottom jaw that it was still hooked to and ripping muscle and bone with a sickening crack.

Emile was writhing on the floor for a couple of seconds, unable to make any sound other than the chocked gurgling of the blood now blocking his airways. But soon he stopped moving, dark blood forming a growing pool around his now jawless head. She grabbed him by the hair and started dragging him towards the dungeons. On any other day she would bring him to her mother and have a feast with the rest of her family, but the seething anger that was still coursing through her veins gave her a different idea.

Down in the bowels of the castle, where she even had a space designated as her "working area" Cassandra looked up at her handiwork. Emlie's body was sprawled out on a scarecrow frame, limbs tightly attached to the wooden poles and jaw dangling from his neck attached with a rope. She couldn't go and put the new "decoration" outside herself but she could always have someone else do it.

With a satisfied smile, she spun on her heels and started to make her way back towards the upper levels of the castle to check on her sisters and inform her mother of what happened. While walking, there was only one thought ringing through her mind.

Nobody touches my family.

#in which bela can't take one single break #lady dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #fanfic #gore #blood

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husbandohunter · 3 years

Text

Moments of Despair #2 [Genshin Impact/Albedo x Reader]

Synopsis: "The alchemist who relished in his gifts only to fall from grace."

(A series of works where the boys deal with the passing of their beloved).

Diluc’s despair

Warnings: angst, tragedy, major character death and psychological horror (correct me if otherwise)

(A/n): I decided to take a slightly different approach this time. Regardless, it’s still killing my heart TwT.

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Out of the many wonders of Teyvat, one thing Albedo loved most was how you were so different from him.

Difference ties to the unknown, one that must be discovered. He was drawn to you the first time he had laid his eyes upon your form standing at the heights of Mondstadt's cathedral. The Sisters scolded you from below, but all you did was reply with a wink amidst their chaos before soaring into the skies and letting the wind carry your glider. Reckless they said. For him, your recklessness was intriguing.

As the sun's light blinded his vision, everything he saw seemed like a glass barrier. For the ground was where he thrived and chalk was his core, it became the basis of Albedo's very existence. Even the geo Archon granted him a Vision of the same element to affirm his identity. The earth will forever be attached to his feet as he will keep on his stride until every last truth of Teyvat have all been realized. You, on the other hand, hailed from a place where he couldn't quite reach. What lies beyond this glass ceiling? Albedo found himself gradually holding onto a string of curiosities, a string he could touch but was not able to feel.

'Interesting,' he thought quietly, while the breeze slip between the fingers of his outstretched hand.

He was a character of logic, possessing sharp eyes that could pierce through the depths of the most complex formulas and a mind to predict their outcomes- as long as alchemy was still related. All impossibilities thrown in his way only paved a path for him to become the well known genius he was now. Whether it was alchemy or investigations with the Knights of Favonius, Albedo never failed to deliver the answers. But despite it all, he always found himself endlessly contemplating over things that were considered intangible. He wonders why you smile when there was nothing to laugh about. How could you tell between the complexities of the human heart? Albedo can't seem to put a finger on it.

'Why? What drives you? What are you thinking?'

The Chief Alchemist couldn't resist being fascinated by your unpredictability. It reels him in similar to a fish being baited out of the waters. However, unlike those creatures, Albedo only tightened his grip on the strings as if they were a lifeline, determined to find out what they truly felt like to the touch.

"I can't really say it's much of an answer," you hummed, clasping both hands behind your back before declaring with a grin, "To put it simply, you just gotta follow your heart."

'Follow your heart...' What does it mean to follow your heart?

"I'm afraid I still don't understand," he replied in a thoughtful manner. The statement never really resonated with him and it certainly weren't the words his Master taught when he was in the early stages of being created, "But it does suit you very much."

"Really? But still bring your head with you," a playful laugh escapes and you add while pointing a finger, "At least, it's what everyone tells me these days."

"Hm," Albedo then affirms with a nod, "I can definitely see why they would tell you that."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

The days go by and his repetitious march towards the truth remains the same. However, there was never a dull moment when you were at his side. Perhaps that was the reason why Albedo became so attracted to your aura. The way you'd follow around his experiments, eyes so full of enthusiasm at every step of the activity. Sometimes the events can get a little too out of hand in which he needs to step in and save you from getting stuck in slime condensates...constantly. Albedo grew fond of your childlike excitement even when you weren't entirely sure what was going on. He normally distanced himself from socializing as it never sparked his interest. Frankly, he was too much of a genius for mundane conversations. Your presence was rather refreshing in this case. You were an oddball, just like him, and for once the alchemist felt like he didn't need to place that glass barrier between the two worlds.

"You seem to be in a very good mood today Mister Albedo."

He was a man of subtle expressions yet anyone could notice the small gleam in his eyes whenever he saw you walking in the hallway. Sucrose often remarked with a giggle after she noticed her teacher holding his documents upside down. But who could blame him? Joy, fun, laughter. He was able to experience those emotions all because of you; his beloved. You were the colour to his canvas and the meaning to his flower. You were a force of nature. Like a warm breeze gracing upon the terrestrial lands, you move him.

Thump- thump- thump-

Strings around his world began to weave one whole picture while they also tugged inside his chest. God had finally blown the breath of life into mankind's body, it was only a matter of time before Albedo came to follow his heart too.

--------

"Alright, just one more detail aaaaand done!"

You gave a small tap using the tip of your pencil and leaned back to examine your artwork.

Masterpiece!

On days when Katheryne had no commissions assigned to the guild, Albedo would accompany you to the Whispering Woods and conduct his sketches there instead. He was aware of the discomfort Dragonspine brought as the temperature wasn't ideal for anyone except for him. You eventually learned that your lover was not only intelligently different from the rest but physically too. Albedo, aside from the Cavalry Captain, was mysterious in his own way. He was hard to read yet never came off as intimidating, no one knew of his origins nor they knew how he came to Mondstadt. You wondered why someone like him would have wanted to get involved with your shenanigans. Rosaria often gave warnings regarding the alchemist's 'hidden intentions' in which you'd roll your eyes in response. The Albedo you knew was far from that. He was a big brother to Klee, a man passionate about his work, he was the one golden star among the many silvers in your sky. He was your lover.

My Albedo.

Brushing a hand upon the drawing you made of him, you glided down the lines of his cheek before resting your finger on the mark by his neck. You gazed at it with fondness. Truly a masterpiece indeed.

"You do realize I'm still here?"

The paper nearly flies out of your grasp and you snatched it back to your chest, "HUH A-ALBEDO, WHEN DID YOU APPEAR???"

"I was with you the whole time," he states. The corner of his lip tug upward ever so slightly, "You said you wanted to sketch me."

"A-Ahahaha, so I did," you reply while scratching your head bashfully. 'I thought I was looking at a sculpture!!' You rushed to cover your face with the sheet. It wasn't that you forgot he was there, rather, you forgot he was still a living and breathing specimen who just witnessed your little serenade. As Lisa had once said, Albedo was easy on the eyes. His graceful features made him seem almost like an oil painting that could only be found in halls of the most prestigious households. You made sure to capture everything, every detail, every curve just like he had done with your portraits. Only now you noticed the sun already began its descent below the lakeside, dusting the landscape with hints of bright orange as it marked the day's end. If only time could slow down. But duty calls upon your next journey and there was no telling when you'd return. At the very least, a simple portrait would suffice to fill in the temporary gap of his absence.

"Can I see it?"

You glanced his direction while keeping the drawing close to your nose, "Are you sure about that? It might not be up to your expectations."

"I'm sure," Albedo affirms with a straight countenance, "I can already tell you've put a great amount of effort, otherwise you wouldn't have taken this long."

"Yeeaahh I kinda lost track of time. I guess it's only fair that you get to see the finished product," you say and shoved the drawing in front of him, "Tada! I present to you, my masterpiece!"

Albedo takes it out of your grasp and you watched the way his eyes expanded upon sight.

"Well? Whaddya think?"

Words could not describe the mixture of emotions that erupted within him. Was it distinguishable or abstract? Albedo spent his time pondering between the two answers as he examined the drawing closely. Despite the lines being slightly jagged and the unevenness in the placement of his eyes, he managed to make the shape of the entire image you were trying to convey. Perhaps it was all thanks to his well trained artistic vision which gave him the ability to do so. Or maybe he was simply biased. But there wasn't a shred of doubt that this was indeed your craftsmanship.

"You even added flowers in the background," he pointed out with amusement.

"It's the thing you make when using your elemental burst, I couldn't fit your hand in the picture so I decided to put it somewhere empty," you informed, "Out of everything, that one took me the longest."

"And the rabbits?"

"They resemble Klee's bombs!"

He lets out a chuckle, "I see."

Albedo kept his attention downward until he was mindlessly staring at the paper in hand. This was a memory made to be carried as you moved on to your next journey and it saddens him that he could not accompany you. If only time slowed down. Albedo wanted to hold onto the memory forever, because he knew once he gave it back, he wouldn't be able to see you for an uncertain amount of time.

"Do you really have to go?"

His voice was barely above a whisper. Guilt crept into your heart and you gingerly layed your fingers on his gloved ones, bringing down the paper that blocked his face. A pair of teal orbs held a reflection of your image as the sun's rays casted from the side. You returned it with a reassuring grin, hoping to soothe his worries somehow, "I just need to pay a visit to my father since he's been very sick lately. I'll be fine, so don't worry too much okay?"

Albedo turns over his palm and gave your hand a squeeze, "How long will it take?"

"I'm not sure but it will be a while. Snezhnaya is pretty far so..." you trailed off, "But my time in Mondstadt, with Klee and with you, I will never forget! I won't even if I tried."

When you were met with no answer, a breeze came in to fill the melancholic silence. He too will not forget and he would ensure that it was the same for you. Slowly, Albedo brought your hand up, past the center of his heart all the way to cupping his cheek. He allowed himself to indulge in your warmth, tangling the strands of his hair with your fingers while closing his eyes. Sweet flowers. You always carried the smell of sweet flowers.

"Albedo?" You gawked, "What's the matter?"

"...There are certain aspects where drawings can't imitate," he says, grip tightening ever so slightly, "How I feel against your skin, the shape of my jaw, your warmth radiating with my own. These are the things I want you to remember."

Breath leaves your slightly parted mouth. It was unfair how straightforward Albedo could be when showing his affection. Doing as he pleases without anyone's approval to the point it would even catch you off guard since he often absorbed himself in the arts of alchemy. But during times when Albedo did choose to express his feelings, you knew they came from a place of pure genuinity. The thought made it hard for you to tear away from him, "Did you ever find out what the strings felt like then?"

Albedo returns his gaze, long golden lashes hovering them as he smiles softly, "...I have."

As he began to reveal his stories, the dusk sky continued to flare across the landscape with colours of passion. Red, it was the thread that had led him to you, the same string that weaved him together as a whole. Albedo lays a kiss atop of your pinky, there was a reason why Mondstadtians called him the Chalk Prince. You didn't know the intention behind his sudden affection but he knew. It was a promise, one to ensure that the thread would also have you return safely back into his arms.

Oh how he hated the colour red.

"Al...bedo..."

With speed he never knew he had, Albedo scoops you into his embrace and held you close. How did everything happen so fast? He curses his mind as it proceeds to scan your injuries, drawing a conclusion where he wished to be wrong for once:

You were beyond help.

"Ah..haha..." you managed to laugh through bitter tears, "You don't have to say it. I know."

His breath hitches, trying to make sense of the feeling that was slowly tearing him apart from the inside. It's not real. Of course it wasn't, it couldn't be. What other possible answer was there to explain the numbness stinging his fingers? The reason for his shaking? Everything felt so cold. Your body hardly registered to his to touch, you were losing so much blood. You were losing. He was going to lose you.

"No," Albedo shakes his head, "We still have time. I'll go find help."

Please, hold on.

He forced himself to think. The ruin hunter ran off shortly after it had ambushed you, by now the Knights would eventually noticed and apprehended it on sight. They couldn't be too far. All he needed was to carry you back to safety and everyone can go home. Albedo darted his eyes all over the place, breaths becoming shallower with each passing second. Where? Where to go? Which route was best to not overexert your wounds? Think. Think. Think. Why couldn't he think?

"A..." You watched him in your helpless state. Every part of you throbbed with pain but it pains you even more to see the renowned genius who stood atop the pedestal of elegance and grace so utterly, undoubtedly lost. This was not the goodbye you wanted, though death already had you tight in their grasps. Not yet. Using the last particle of your strength, you tried to stay alive as long as possible. Just a little bit more time.

Albedo freezes when a trembling hand extends itself to cup around his cheek. Every single thought he had in mind vanished and was replaced by a loud ring resonating in his ears. Dreadfully, mechanically, he turns his attention to where you lay.

"Don't cry," you whisper, "I love you, don't cry- okay?"

Albedo grimaces, shutting his eyes closed as he allows the pent up sadness to flow out of him completely, "I can't," he said in a shaky voice, "Please. Stay."

"I'm sorry," Your vision blurs and he hugs you even more. Drawing your final breath, you relay your most cherished words through a broken smile, "But no matter w-where I go...I won't for..ge.."

The moment your hand fell, Albedo finally understood the difference between death and loss.

It was...suffocating. Having the air trapped in his throat, begging to release yet it hurts to speak. The never ending stabs that pulsed within his veins rushed forth like the scraping blizzard of Dragonspine until his whole body lost all its senses. The world was shattering. He could no longer feel your weight. He could no longer feel.

(Y/n).

Albedo glances at his blood stained fingers where the thread had been severed, wide eyes drowning in sorrow. What a horrible feeling. Was this a warning sent by the gods? For stepping into the boundaries of knowing too much? Ah the curse of knowledge man must bear when eating the temptatious fruit. It was the result of choosing to love you. With life, death is inevitable and with love, it will eventually bring pain. Everything had a price to pay and as an alchemist, Albedo knew that better than anyone.

"...Meaningless..."

But he refused to accept it.

Cradling your corpse, he leans in and places a kiss on your forehead, lips quivering as they lingered for a second too long before gathering the strength to stand back on his feet. Nothing will stop the alchemist from reuniting with you. If the laws wished to take you away from him then he will use everything in his power to fight against those laws.

"This is not goodbye..." Albedo said to the sleeping girl, "And it will never be."

When the sun sinks below the plains and the stars lose their light, the sky had been replaced with a palette of darkness. It was time to go home.

------

"Have you all heard about the rumours?"

A group of knights gather in the corner as they whisper about. Sucrose stops on her tracks and hides behind a wall, clutching the book close to her chest in an attempt to stay hidden.

"Another criminal disappeared from the dungeons? Crazy..."

"More like creepy. I was told that place might be haunted by some dead prisoner's ghost. Even the Church is hopping onto this case."

"Well I hope it doesn't get any worse. So many of us started going on night patrols..."

Their voices faded out of range as the anemo user backtracks her steps carefully. Several months passed since the news of mysterious kidnappings have been announced to the public. Rumours of their whereabouts swirled around the city and much to her discomfort, Sucrose happened to catch every single one of them. There couldn't possibly be evil spirits lurking in the Favonious Headquarters right? She silently shrieks at the thought, shaking her head furiously to stop her mind from going too deep. No, I have to find him. Without wasting another minute, the anemo user sprinted towards the stairs all the way up to the second floor before stopping directly in front of her teacher's office. Despite the adrenaline that occured at the same time, she made sure to knock.

No answer.

"Strange, he told me he would be here today..." Sucrose muttered to herself. But suddenly she heard the sound of objects shifting from the otherside, signaling that there was indeed someone occupying the room. Without realizing, she held her breath out of anticipation.

"Come in."

The door creaks as she opens them, giving her enough space to slip between the gap, "Mister Albedo?"

"You're early today," The Chief Alchemist noted from his desk, "Is there something the matter?"

"Y-You mean you don't know? There was just another case about a person disappearing from the dungeons," Her tone became more frantic as she rambled to herself, "The kidnapper never leaves a trace and no one knows how they were able to get out. Even when we ask the guards what happened, they can't seem to remember as if...as if someone casted a spell on them!"

"A spell?" He inquires, "I suppose that could be a possibility."

"I think so too. I-It's the only explanation that makes sense! I mean...ghosts don't exist after all," Sucrose nervously looks down at her shoes while giving her book a squeeze, "But why? Who could be capable of such advanced techniques? No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to understand their intentions."

"...Yes. It is a very strange occurrence indeed."

Noticing her teacher's withdrawn attitude, Sucrose couldn't help but feel flustered at her own behaviour, "Ah my apologies Mister Albedo, I didn't mean to go off track. Have there been any progress on the investigations so far?"

Albedo briefly glanced at the various documents splayed across his table. His reputation as an incredibly intelligent individual had reached far and wide through Mondstadt. This led to the authorities requesting his assistance regarding the recent matters, despite him specializing in the alchemical field, he was also the Captain of their Investigation Team. Although, Albedo detested partaking in things he deemed irrelevant to his research;

"I'm afraid I would need more evidence to draw a conclusion."

"Eh? You still need more?"

He could not deny that the given authoritative position had provided much benefits to his own accord.

"My expertise lies in the subject of alchemy," Albedo reasoned and proceeds to intertwine his fingers in front of his mouth, "Humans on the other hand, are very unpredictable in nature. Even the essence of their existence is hard to obtain."

"Essence of their existence?" Sucrose repeated softly. She wanted to ask what he meant but the blank expression was evident enough to signal his impatience. At least, that was what she thought, "Nevermind! I have something that might help," taking out a slip from her textbook, she handed it to him, "It's the report Captain Kaeya gave me. He said that the culprit might be a traitor coming from the Knights of Favonius."

He narrows his eyes.

"I-I think he might be right! Just think about it, we haven't found anything at all for the past few months but when we do, I sometimes feel like we're just running in circles...oh what if it's becau-"

"Sucrose."

"Y-Yes?!"

Albedo calmly looks at the flustered girl, not realizing how sharp his tone was, "You're overthinking again. Perhaps it's best that you take this day off."

"But I came here to help," she insisted, "I know it hurts to lose someone you love! Don't you understand that we're all worried about you? And Klee, she..."

"..."

"Please Mister Albedo, if there's anything I could do-"

"No need," he cuts her off once again, "Your stress levels are too high. We can't go any further if you continue to act like this."

"Oh," her ruby eyes casted to the side, "I understand..."

"Good. Now, if you would excuse me," Albedo bid her farewell and watched as the door clicked behind her, observing every detail until he was sure that the absolute silence had returned. He picks up Kaeya's document. Such remarkable handwriting. But of course, appearances are only meant to be displayed on the surface for the Captain was a sly man, wearing a mask to shield what lies underneath. Just like his letter, they were full of innuendos and condensed meanings, orchestrated together until the truth spoke loudly to Albedo himself.

"So, that's what he thinks."

Perhaps the alchemist should have been a little more discreet.

--------

There was a certain place in Dragonspine that no one dared to enter. But those who have, they never return.

"Hm, no response. Now as for the next step..."

And he was the reason why.

Taking the sword out of the transmutation circle, Albedo turned to the snowy hill nearby and activated his alchemy. A small portion of it dissipates, revealing a trench that went so deep underground that even warmth couldn't outplay the sheer cold. It was the perfect hiding place for the evidence to lay out of sight and an environment where only he could handle. The alchemist tossed the leftover along with the others before exiting quietly, summoning back the ice to bury his victims once again. Another day, another experiment, another stain goes to his title. The path he walked upon was one littered with corpses and the sins he committed. But despite the bones crunching beneath his feet and the weight of the dead hanging on his shoulders, the alchemist was numb to it all. Like an entity floating in space with nothing to hold, he became unable to feel.

"I'm back," When reaching the center of Starglow Cavern, Albedo puts his hand on the icicle and caressed it's hard cold surface, "Did you sleep well?"

The girl did not respond. Her eyes were closed and her skin was as young as ever. She was frozen in time.

"You must have."

Albedo felt the sword beginning to shake in his grasp as it resonated with his energy. Dust particles emitted from the hilt and slowly made their climb to the side of his arm. Still, Albedo's attention did not waver, "To this day, I've been thinking about what you told me the first time we met."

"..."

"Follow your heart. I couldn't understand it at first but after being around your presence, I believe I can finally recognize what that term means."

He closes his eyes as he envisioned your lively form running across the landscape. Albedo, Albedo! The sound of his name was mixed with your laughter while Klee came into the scene and caught the dandelions with you. A content smile formed on his countenance as he watched from afar, even if it was just a memory, "It's everything. The breakfast we ate together, to the nights spent camping outside, and the silly moments we shared, they bring all these colours that I never knew existed."

"..."

Albedo curls his fingers against the ice as he continues to lament, "Perhaps that's why I began noticing the strings around me. The closer I was to answer, the more I felt it was necessary to discover what they are. All this time, you were the answer I was searching for," Moist begins to build up in his eyes but they freeze up once reaching the corners. How cruel. Despite what he went through, he wasn't even granted the liberty to cry, "Because with you, I'm able to feel them."

He wonders what you would think if you saw him right now. Albedo peers at his reflection casted on the crystalline surface, the frame of his face had been decorated with streaks of purple and red, spreading out like tree branches as they both fought for dominance. The teal coloured orbs you once adored were beginning to transform to a colour that reminded him of his darkest days. This was Albedo's true nature- a monster, a being that wasn't human, the essence in which you never had the chance to see.

"I know I may not be the same as I was before," he added, "But if that is what it takes to follow your heart, will you let me feel the strings again?"

Would you still love me the same?

"..."

"If so, then please understand my actions," Albedo takes a step back as he held out the sword in front of him. At last, the preparations have finally been completed. He plunges the blade to the ground with full force and the surrounding area begins to shake under the power accumulated through many, intentional sacrifices. To revive the dead was a forbidden art as it came with heavy consequences. If it weren't for Albedo's talent and quick wit, the process would have consumed him long before executing the last stage. He winces, the pain was excruciating. It was hard for him to ignore the sound of his skin cracking below his ears and all the way to his nose as they fall off in the shape of small rock-like chunks. Everything hurt so much that even death sounded like a sweet dream but Albedo couldn't afford to give up. He had already come this far, his hands completely washed with sin and his reputation already broken beyond repair, Albedo had nowhere else to go. This was his last destination.

"Soon-" he pants between choked breaths. Soon your eyes will open. He could drown in your embrace, one that was warm and not cold. Soon he will be able revive those cherished memories from a frozen past. It was all he could think of right now. Your existence was the reason why a part of him felt whole and your death made him realize how painful it was to tear away those pieces. Albedo refused to let go of those pieces, they had already become a part of him. And if this path ended up tearing him even more, then so be it.

"I should have stopped you the moment you were born."

The intruder snapped him awake and he swung around to where they stood. But before Albedo could make out who it was, they lunged past him with incredible speed, kicking the sword off the ground while severing his two arms once and for all. They flew to the side, blood dyed purple trickling from the edges of his joint as he struggled to stay upright.

"Dains...leif..."

Dainsleif watched the alchemist fall onto his back as the light around him slowly faded away. He turned his gaze to where the objective was and noticed a girl encased within the ice. The man sighs out of relief when she shows no signs of life, he came just in time, "So this is how it ends."

Albedo weakly stared at the blonde man. He attempted to say something but the blood caught in his mouth prevented him from that.

"Save your breath, you won't be having any," Dainsleif remarks in a cold manner and glared at his bloodied form, "The renowned Chief Alchemist of Mondstadt and an important member of Ordo Favonious. Hmph, what an interesting turn of events. Out of everyone, I never thought you were the type to act so foolish."

Foolish...what a foreign name to be called as. He never heard anyone tell him he was foolish.

"Truly a pity," With a flick of a wrist, Dainsleif brought his sword to Albedo's neck. It was unbelievable how he had the endurance to go through all that pain while still breathing at this point but what is there to be expected from a monster? "Remember that all actions have consequences."

The alchemist watched as his life flashed before him, the weight of his sins had finally caught up. He had always seen the world as a platform for his objectives and results were merely a natural cause after attempting many experiments. But death as a consequences was an unbearble realization upon his final moments. He abandoned his title, his pupil and his dearest sister. In the end, he was still unable to fulfill his duty.

"I just..." Albedo mumbled, his words slurring together, "wanted..."

As the ashes turn to ashes and dust becomes dust, chalk returns to the earth, forever yearning a place that can never be reached.

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #albedo #albedo x reader #genshin albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #nya-writes #dainsleif #genshin impact dainsleif #sucrose

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nanatsumu · 3 years

Text

TEENAGE FEVER

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x f!reader, oikawa tooru x f!reader

synopsis: iwaizumi has strung you on long enough and you’re finally at the end of your rope.

genre: heavy angst... like make your heart wrench in pain heavy, one sided pining

warnings: manga spoilers, bad grammar (didn’t know it was that bad until i used grammarly), MATURE themes, drinking, smoking, alcohol, iwaizumi being an asshole (he’s also a frat boy because surprise! frat boys should never be trusted), subtle hints at sex, bittersweet ending

word count: 6.7K

series masterlist

part one | part two | part three | part four

“y/n we know you’re in there, someone told me they saw you run in here.”

great!

you slowly sit up from the toilet, dragging your feet across the bathroom tiles until you make it to the door and begin unlocking the lock at a snail’s pace. but before you can even get a chance to twist the doorknob, somebody is already doing so on the other side of the door and the next thing you know, reina’s screaming ‘HURRY UP’ and you’re assaulted by the bathroom door.

“REINA!” you scream as the result of the door flying into your face has you clutching your head.

“SHIT! SORRY Y/N!”

“geez, why are you so fucking slow,” oikawa complains as he sucks his teeth, pushing the door in a little wider so that you can see standing him behind reina as well. “did iwa-chan’s kiss mess you up that bad?”

“your friend is a prick, oikawa!” reina jabs him in the side, eliciting a grunt from the poor man. “it was supposed to be a quick smooch but that guy had to be extra and start using tongue!”

“what kind of guy kisses a girl who he’s only met once like that?!” your female friend cries.

“only someone as ballsy as him would even try and do that,” oikawa stops scratching his head, his eyes widening like saucers as if he’s just realized something. “and don’t put all the blame on iwaizumi! y/n, you literally moaned! and i even saw you kissing back!”

“don’t make me feel shittier than i already do oikawa!” you jeer.

“he...” you sigh and you can feel the tears start to prickle your eyes. “i feel so humiliated, and embarrassed.”

“and i-i felt so... so exposed.”

oikawa’s playful expression falters as he hears the hurt in your voice and manages to squeeze his way past a protesting reina before kneeling down so that he could meet your glossy eyes.

“listen, i’ll apologize on his behalf for now and i’ll take him about it later, alright?” he awkwardly pats your shoulder, not sure what to do as he’s never been in a situation where he’s had to comfort a girl bawling her eyes out.

“y-you... don’t have— t-to do that,” you whimper. “i’m just being a big crybaby, it’s just a silly kiss.”

“no it’s not!” reina blurts out a little louder than she intended to. “that prick completely disrespected you and embarrassed you in front of everyone! it wasn’t even a matter of him kissing you, it was a part of a game, but that dude took it too far and crossed the line!”

“listen, this is why i told you to stay away from him in the first place,” your roommate shuffles closer to you and pulls you in for a hug. “let’s go home alright?”

“let me walk you guys home, it’s getting late outside and even though you two are together, you never know what’ll happen.” oikawa offers, and while you are quick to accept, reina wavers momentarily.

“how do you know you’re not gonna take advantage of us, hm?”

“please, if i wanted to i already would’ve given the circumstances but i haven’t because i. do. not. want. to!” he smiles patronizingly which irks reina.

“whatever, but if you even think about trying anything then i’ll cut your dick off and feed it to my lizard.” she threatens but oikawa doesn’t take it to heart.

you finally get the last of your sniffles out as you stand up to your feet and exit the bathroom with oikawa and reina trailing along right behind you, similar to an assembly line of ducks— a very... tall duck, a crying duck, and an angry duck.

the walk home was rowdier than you had expected it to be. while you were quieter than usual and still in a bad mood from earlier events, that didn’t stop oikawa and reina though from causing a ruckus on the way back to the dorms.

“you’re telling me, that THAT’S hajime? like hajime iwaizumi? the notorious playboy of irvine?” reina gapes as she stares at the photo of iwaizumi back in high school that oikawa had saved in his phone.

even you were surprised to see what iwaizumi looked back then when reina practically shoved oikawa’s phone in your face, the brightness radiating from his phone screen only further irritating your bloodshot eyes.

while he still had a bit of muscle on him back then, he looked a lot lankier in comparison to his university counterpart who had grown twice in size. his once pale skin had become almost a sun-kissed tan color that complimented his features. but what shocked you the most was that the iwaizumi shown to you in the photos was free from any blemishes on his arms and his ears weren’t dressed in dangly silvers or studs.

“that’s iwaizumi?” your jaw dropped and oikawa was quick to make a teasing remark about how your mouth was wide open enough for flies to fly in.

“what happened to him?!” reina cries.

“sometimes i wonder why he hasn’t visited japan in the past 4 years but when i look back at this photo and then compare it to present him, i would piss my pants too if i were him and had to go back home to my mom.”

“does his mom not like tattoos or piercings?” reina questions as you and oikawa give each other a look before turning back to the girl.

“i don’t know about iwaizumi, but my mom is pretty strict about tattoos and piercings,” you start to explain. “she’s the ‘girls shouldn’t get tattoos!’ and ‘guys shouldn’t get piercings!’ type of mom, so she’s not completely against it, but if i came home with a huge ass tattoo like iwaizumi then she’d sure as hell chop my arm off.”

“japan’s pretty strict about piercings and tattoos, especially when it comes to students because tattoos are kind of a sign of the yakuza in japan,” oikawa adds in addition. “piercings aren’t as frowned upon as tattoos but it’s usually the younger kids who have ‘em.”

“yakuza?”

“like a gang basically? or a mafia i guess.” you answer reina to the best of your abilities.

you start kicking a pebble around and breathe in the crisp california air, watching as a puff of smoke escapes your lips with every exhale.

“you alright?” oikawa asks as he begins growing worried since you haven’t said anything in the past few minutes.

“yeah, just thinking,” you stuff your hands into your pockets and continue kicking the pebble beneath your feet. “california is a lot hotter than japan.”

“you think california is hot? just wait ‘till you spend a day in the summer heat in argentina.” he counters.

“maybe one day,” you say in consideration. “maybe when i graduate university i’ll consider traveling somewhere before my life completely revolves around paying taxes and bills.”

“if you do come to argentina one day then just give me a call and i’ll be more than happy to give you a tour around.” he beams.

“my cousin is playing volleyball in brazil, i think?” you say, remembering your mother telling you that hinata had gone to play beach volleyball in brazil. “he’s blood-related but he lived in miyagi while i lived in aomori so we never really got to see each other that much.”

“miyagi? i used to live in miyagi too!”

“huh? really? do you know a hinata shoyo then?” you ask, intrigued at the newfound information. “i heard from my mom that he started playing volleyball in high school so he’s probably played you once in a game if you played volleyball in high school too.”

“i did actually, his team beat mine during the qualifiers for spring nationals my last year of high school and man, i think i probably broke the record for most bowls of ramen eaten in one sitting that day.” he chuckles but it comes out sounding more half-heartedly in your ears, almost like he’s recalling an unpleasant memory from the past.

“so what made you go to argentina?” you ask and oikawa answers like he’s been asked this countless of times (which he has.)

“when i was a kid, there was this volleyball player i really looked up to,” oikawa starts. “his name was jose blanco and there was a tournament happening in sendai that i went to where he played against japan, and at the time there was a young ace on the team who was a fledgling star,”

“he made a big impression during the first half of the tournament but he started getting worse as things progressed. he was kind of off for the rest of the game and i thought that he was gonna be subbed out but it wasn’t until they switched setters that i noticed the ace was getting back into his groove. jose was a veteran setter, 38 years old i think? and if you were to be asked who the star of the game was then you’d probably say the ace since he was the one who scored most of the points right? but if you ask me, i think the setter was the star of the game!”

“he was so cool too! like he was so calm the entire time and he inconspicuously helped the ace get back on to his feet and just simply left the court,” oikawa continues to ramble. “i even got an autograph but that dumbass iwaizumi took the paper that i bought and got the autograph of some dude on the japan team so i had to give jose the jersey i bought earlier that day instead. although it did end up getting washed though....”

“hah! desperate much?” you laugh as you bump shoulders with him.

“desperate time for desperate measures! no way was i gonna leave without getting the jose blanco’s autograph!” he emphasizes.

unbeknownst to you and oikawa, a cheeky smile creeps upon reina’s face as she watches you and oikawa converse with each other like you two were long-time friends catching up for the first time in forever.

you, on the other hand, were starstruck by the man that is oikawa tooru.

the story he told you left you feeling heart-warmed because you noticed how his eyes sparkled and his lips curved into a genuine smile as he talked about his idol and the sport he is so passionate about. oikawa was many things: a flirt, a smooth talker, a sly fox, and he could get a little handsy sometimes— but you could tell the love he had for volleyball was like no other and you respected how committed he was to the sport, even going as far as to going to argentina in order to follow his long-time idol.

“i think it’s really cool that you’re so passionate about volleyball,” you smile as you peer up at the night sky. “in my opinion, i think being committed to one thing your entire life is a bit hard depending on who you are, but at least there are guys like you who are one-in-a-million.”

your words strike a chord in oikawa and reina is quick to notice the way his lips part as he holds his gaze on you.

“oh would you two quit flirting!” reina lets out an inhumane noise that startles you and oikawa.

“you scared me!” you take a deep breath and frantically clutch your heart.

“just say you forgot that i was here because you were too busy getting chummy with oikawa!” she groans while pulling her face.

“you’re just jealous i’m stealing your roommate away,” oikawa sticks his tongue out at your roommate before stopping in his tracks and pulling you into a hug. “but don’t worry! i’ll take extremely good care of her.”

“no way buddy,” reina takes a hold of your arm and uses all of her strength in order to pull you away from oikawa. “she was my roommate before she was your friend!”

“wow i feel so popular,” you say sarcastically, accompanied with a roll of your eyes. “it’s 1 now and i think i would very much rather be at home right now in my jammies instead of listening to you two bicker back and forth.”

“you don’t mean me do you, y/n?!” reina wails as she clings onto you.

“oh look! it’s a bear!” you point out to the other side of the street and reina snaps her head in the direction you’re pointing in.

“where?!”

with her attention off of you, you take this chance to slip away from her and run towards your dorm building along with oikawa who’s right on your tail.

“you’re... really... fast!” oikawa pants as he speaks in-between breaths. “like a lo— WOAH!”

he trips over a slab of concrete that was out of place and out of reflex, he latches onto the nearest object— and unfortunately, you were the closest thing he could grab onto.

“H-HEY!” you screech when you feel yourself being pulled down onto the ground.

with the split second that he had of clarity, oikawa took advantage of the opportunity and moved his hand under your head so that it wouldn’t make contact with the concrete and his hand, would instead, cushion your fall.

you hit the concrete with an ‘oof!’ and while you were awaiting the sharp pain in the back of your head to come, it never came. instead, you open your eyes only to see oikawa’s brown ones staring right back at you with an astounded expression that mirrored yours.

“so, how are you doing this fine night?” he grins.

“pretty good, up until your dumbass tripped and pulled me down with you,” you snort.

reina gasps dramatically when she catches up to you guys and sees the position you two are in.

“you deny your chumminess with him and then you run off to get all handsy with him!”

“this idiot tripped and then thought it would be a good idea to pull me down with him,” you stand up after oikawa offers to pull you up. “what kind of thought process do you even have to think that i could catch your fall?”

reina squeezes his bicep, triggering him to let out a yelp.

“oh it’s hard alright.” reina smirks as oikawa yanks his arm away.

“do you work out a lot?” you sneak up behind oikawa and put your hands on his broad shoulders.

“yup!” he flexes his arm and gives you both a cheeky smile. “i gained 10 kilograms of muscle mass!”

“1-10?! isn’t that like 20 pounds?!” reina gawks at the volleyball player.

“yeah and guess what, i only grew one centimeter so it was all me baby!” he laughs almost mockingly.

the rest of the walk home was full of laughter and heartwarming bantering between the three of you and you were happy that you were able to meet reina, an amazing roommate, and oikawa, who was a cocky shit but still managed to squeeze a laugh out of you.

it was going to be a long 4 years away from home, but just as long as you were surrounded by the right people, you were sure that these 4 years would fly by in a jiffy.

when you guys finally arrived at your dorm building, you notified reina that you would stay outside and chat with oikawa for a bit and so she gave you the okay and headed up to your room first so that she could get ready for bed since she was about ready to knock out right then and there.

“thanks for walking me home, oikawa,” you pull him in for friendly hug that he didn’t expect, but nevertheless, he hugs back anyway because who is he to decline a hug from you? “i feel bad for having you walk me home even though you probably want to hang out with iwaizumi.

oikawa feels his stomach churn at the mention of his best friend and guilt creeps upon him like bile rising in the back of your throat.

oikawa had turned a blind eye to iwaizumi’s bad habit of playing around with girls and leaving them after he’s had his fair share of fun because iwaizumi was his best friend and despite the drastic transformation he had gone through within the 4 years that they’ve been away from each other, oikawa knew deep down that he was still the iwaizumi he knew and loved— the iwaizumi who had stuck with him through thick and thin during his adolescent years.

however, now that he’s taken the time to familiarize himself with you personally and grow to learn what type of person you were— someone with a good heart but isn’t afraid to voice their own opinions and stand their ground when people try to walk all over them— he can’t help but be greedy and want you all for himself.

“say, y/n,” you give him a soft hum in response which prompts him to continue taking. “you wanna grab some milk bread with me tomorrow at the cafe you were talking about?”

“are you asking me out on a date right now?” you wheeze. “you’re pretty bold for asking out someone you’ve only met twice your entire life.”

“it’s not a date unless you want it to be.” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“a platonic date sounds good to me, don’t you think?”

“there’s no such thing as a platonic date, y/n.”

“maybe not to you since you’re probably used to girls flocking around you all the time,” you say and he’s visibly upset at the fact that you think he’s a casanova or something when in reality he still hasn’t had his first girlfriend yet. “so you in? i’ll even call it a date if you’d like.”

“yeah i’m in,” he puts his fist out for a fist bump, which you are content with returning, and he beams at you with the biggest smile you’ve seen him give you. “does the afternoon work for you?”

you pull your phone out of your jacket pocket and open up the contacts app before handing it to the male.

“just give me your number and we can go over the specifics over text tonight.”

he punches in his number, saving the contact as “tooru👽” before handing the device back to you.

“an alien emoji?” you laugh as you read his contact name displayed on your phone. “you’re a dork.”

“like you’re any less of a dork than me.” he playfully rolls his eyes as he pulls his phone out and gives it for you to return the favor.

you clumsily put your number into his phone, accidentally pressing some random digit one too many times, and save your name as “y/n :3” before handing his phone back to him.

“a bunny face?” he threw his head back and let out a humorous laugh.

“shut up!” you give his shoulder a gentle push. “as if an alien emoji is any better, at least my emoticon is cute!”

“yeah yeah, whatever you say.” he slips his phone back into his pocket before giving you one last final hug that feels a bit warmer than the ones he’s given you before.

“get home safe, oikawa.”

his eyes linger on your face for a bit longer than he would’ve liked.

your eyes were crinkled and your smile lines were more prominent up close, but it didn’t stop oikawa’s heart from skipping a beat.

“sweet dreams y/n.”

you awaken the next morning to the sound of your phone ringing and reina’s abnormally loud snoring (you’re surprised that the girls in the next room over haven’t come knocking at your door telling your roommate to snore a little quieter.)

with the sleep still present in your eyes, the brightness of your phone screen causes you to squint before your vision clears up and you’re able to make out the numbers ‘7:30 A.M’ displayed across your screen.

when the haziness finally leaves your system, you take a look outside your window and realize that the only speck of sunlight present at all is the sunlight that’s provided by the rising sun, peeking out from across the horizon.

you mentally curse oikawa out in your head as your fingers dance across your keyboard to type out a brief response to oikawa’s suspiciously ominous text message.

you reluctantly get up from your bed and slip on your fuzzy bunny slippers before treading over to your door, unlocking it, and then swinging it open, revealing your tall, brown-haired friend standing right where he said he would be.

“nice jammies,” he lets loose an unrestrained, boisterous laugh as he reaches out to fix the strap of your tank top which slipped off your shoulder. “i dig the bunny slippers by the way.”

you haphazardly shuffle your feet, gaining a smile from oikawa as he chuckles softly.

“can i come in?” he peers into the room by leaning over a bit where he sees reina sprawled out in a weird position on her bed, snoring loudly.

“uh, reina’s actually asleep,” you sheepishly scratch the back of your head. “the dorms don’t have separate bedrooms, everyone just sleeps in the same room with their respective roommates.”

“so movie night’s no longer in question?”

“i guess if you don’t mind reina being a plus one,” you shrug as you gesture for him to come in, letting him enter the room first so that you can close the door on your way in. “she’s a heavy sleeper so don’t worry about waking her up.”

oikawa throws himself onto your bed, even going as far as to slipping under your covers and making himself right at home, which, you don’t hesitate to scold him for doing so.

“what’s the point of coming all the way over here just to go back to sleep?” you cross your arms as you walk over to your bed, your knees hitting the edge of the mattress.

“the bakery opens at 8:30 so i wanted to pick you up since the walk there is 25 minutes from here,” oikawa pulls his phone out and checks the time. “it’s 7:37 now so hurry and get ready!”

you shuffle over to the worn-out dresser that has been with you since the day you moved into the dorms and pull out the drawers that contain a majority of your most worn pieces. taking into account the outfit that oikawa was currently sporting— an oversized hoodie, a loose pair of sweatpants, and some sneakers that looked to be on the pricier side— you decided that wearing something similar to that would suffice.

“can you turn around?” you ask as you grab a pair of black sweatpants, not bothering to check the design since they looked all the same anyways, and an oversized hoodie that you forgot you even had in your possession.

“hm? why?”

“i’m gonna change?” you shrug. “unless you don’t mind staying here by yourself? or you can just step outside for a minute if you want to.”

“oh yeah, sure.”

you watch as he heeds your request and begins to turn around to face the wall before proceeding to take off your pajamas, making sure to keep a close eye on him just in case he decides to be a peeping tom.

“you know, you’re pretty credulous trusting a guy you’ve only met last week.” he says as he rocks side to side, head still turned facing the wall.

“well i don’t have to worry about you peeping because i’m already done changing,” you pull down the rest of the bunched up fabric of your hoodie that’s around your waist before slipping on a random baseball cap you saw laying around. “even if you did turn around, i have a 5-pound textbook and i’m not afraid to use it.”

oikawa’s about to make a snarky remark in return to your futile threat when suddenly a loud snore escapes reina’s mouth, encouraging the two of you to give each other a flabbergasted look that leads to you both erupting into a fit of hushed laughter.

“let’s go before reina wakes up and gets a heart attack after seeing you in here.”

“no way!”

after exiting the dorm building and beginning your journey with oikawa to the designated cafe, you two arguing about whether or not milk or cereal should go first after oikawa mentioned to you that he was a firm believer of “milk first, cereal last.”

“if you put milk in first then you’re just gonna get less cereal and who the fuck eats cereal just to drink the cereal milk?” you shoot him a grimace.

“when you pour in the cereal after the milk, then it’s just gonna float there and who takes satisfaction in seeing that shit?” you add. “that’s why cereal first is way better because you get a bowl full of cereal and it’s just... perfect!”

“but your cereal is gonna be soggy by the time you put the milk back in the refrigerator!” oikawa retorts.

“then just wait until after you’re done to put it away? how long do you even take to put the milk back in the refrigerator that when you come back your cereal gets all soggy?!”

“and aren’t you supposed to be an athlete? i’m seriously concerned if it takes you at least over 15 seconds just to put back a carton of milk.” you take a jab at him.

“i will not allow this oikawa slander from you!” he stops in his tracks before abruptly picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

“h-hey! put me down! i’m heavy, oikawa!” you squirm around in protest, but oikawa shows no sign of letting you go anytime soon as he starts to pick up his pace.

“i didn’t gain all of that muscle for nothin’ baby!” he laughs maniacally as he’s practically full-on sprinting down the street now.

luckily enough, the cafe was just around the corner of the street that oikawa started running down from which meant there was finally a reason for the male to let you down, despite the fact that you had been punching his back for the last minute or so but you couldn’t seem to crack him, his arms, nor those broad shoulders of his.

you let out a huff of feigned annoyance once you’re down on your feet while oikawa is still laughing his ass off as you two walk into the establishment.

“not funny! i almost dropped my hat when you pulled that stunt!” you complain as you’re frantically trying to fix your hair: when oikawa abruptly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, the baseball cap on your head was about to fall off but thankfully with your reflexes, you were able to catch it in the nick of time— however, at the price of your own hair.

“here, i got you,” oikawa extends his hand out to your head and starts to brush away at your mess of a hair. “if it makes you feel better, it’s on the house.”

“i was gonna make you pay anyways.” you stick your tongue out at him playfully, feigning annoyance.

“pft, and you brought your wallet anyways?” he grabs your wrist and pulls it up so that you could see the object in your hands.

“it has my id in it you doofus,” you roll your eyes but there’s a hint of blush on your face as you realize he’s practically holding your hand. “and what if you forgot your wallet, hm?”

he lets go of your wrist before slipping his hand into his sweatpants pocket and pulling out a black wallet.

“i never forget my wallet sweetheart,” he winks and you laugh. “especially if i know i’m gonna be going out with a pretty lady— don’t wanna leave a bad impression y’know”

“i think you’ve already left quite the impression on me from your stunt earlier.” you bump shoulders with him.

“so see anything you like on the menu?” he puts his hand on the small of your back and guides you over to where the menu is so that you could get a closer look at all of the options the cafe had to offer its customers.

“we’ll... we did come here originally for milk bread,” oikawa notices how deep in thought you are over something as trivial as baked goods and he can’t help but smile a bit when he notices the little pout on your face or the crease that forms on your forehead when you scrunch your face a little bit. “but i wanna try their matcha bread! and their boba looks good, or is it a little bit too early to be drinking boba?”

oikawa’s so lost in thought (*correction: staring at you) that he doesn’t even realize that you’ve been trying to grab his attention by calling his name 5 times— and it’s only when you physically have to shake him a bit that he snaps out of his little daydream.

“oh, sorry!” he gives you an apologetic smile. “what’s up?”

“i was asking if you wanted to share one of their drinks with me but you were too busy staring at me to hear.” you sneer. “do you have a crush on me or something? heh.”

“pshhh, no way!” he has a sheepish look on his face that you can’t stop yourself from laughing at.

“you better not go falling for me anytime soon, you playboy.” you jest while nudging him with your elbow.

“i’m pretty sure i should be the one telling you that,” he rolls his eyes playfully. “i’m surprised you haven’t confessed your undying love for me yet.”

“i don’t fall in love that easily, pretty boy, and i certainly do not fall in love with someone i’ve only recently met.” you snort at his comment.

“hi there! are you two ready to order?” a voice startles you and oikawa as you both turn your heads towards a woman standing behind the counter.

“oh i’m so sorry about that! i’m sure you didn’t come to work just to see the two of us play around.” you giggle as the woman mirrors your action.

“it’s nothing new to me, it seems like this place is a hotspot for couples to come and hang out so it’s kind of the norm for me now.” she reassures you.

“are you a college student?” you ask the cashier, taking note on how she looked to be around your age.

“i actually graduated from culinary school about 2 years ago,” she starts off. “my parents supported me throughout my 4 years of culinary school, but when it came down to actually opening this cafe, my boyfriend— well, fiancé now— helped me look for a good place to rent out and it was history from there!”

“it was a bit hard at first since i was still fresh out of culinary school and i could barely start this business with the funds i had saved up, but thankfully my boyfriend was able to pitch in and help make my dreams come true,” she continues and you feel your heart grow fuzzy at how whenever she mentioned her boyfriend, her face would soften and a small smile would make its way onto her face. “i honestly cannot imagine a life without him, he’s been with me since high school so he’s always known about my longtime dream of owning my own cafe. he’s always been my rock during my hardest times and— oh my! i started rambling didn’t i?”

she starts to apologize for burdening you with her life story, but you dismiss her worries by waving your hands in front of you, oikawa laughing and copying your motions.

“i think he’d be really happy to hear that you think so lovingly of him.” your lips curve into a gentle smile, which the woman reciprocates.

“what’s your name?” she asks.

“i’m y/n! and this big guy is tooru.” oikawa waves at the woman, her following suit.

“ah i see! well y/n and tooru, my name is maia and it’s so nice to meet you two!” she brings her hand out for a handshake, which you and oikawa return. “are you two college students?”

“yeah! i’m actually a student at the university of irvine!” you answer enthusiastically. “tooru is just visiting from argentina at the moment so i wanted to take him around the area before he left.”

“argentina, really?” her mouth forms an ‘o’ shape. “it must be hard doing long distance, huh? i couldn’t even imagine if my fiancé and i had to live that far away from each other.”

you and oikawa turn to look at each other in confusion before an invisible lightbulb goes off in both of your heads and you bring your attention back onto maia, who’s now equally as confused as you two are.

“we’re actually not dating!” the pink hue from earlier creeps back onto your cheeks and from the corner of your eye you can see oikawa fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. “i met him at one of the frat parties i went to last week and we kind of just clicked.”

“i’m so sorry for assuming!” she has a distraught look on her face and you’re quick to tell her that it was just a misunderstanding. “you two just look really cute together, plus i’m also really used to a lot of couples coming here that i was quick to assume that you two were dating!”

“i mean, we’d be a cute couple right, y/n-chan?” gone was the nervous oikawa you saw just a second ago, and back was the cocky oikawa you all know and love.

“you wish!” you scoff, not bothering to shrug off the arm he slung around your shoulder.

“anyways, is it alright if we can get two of your milk breads as well as a matcha bread and a oolong milk tea with boba?” you order and maia quickly input the order into the tablet in front of her.

“will that be all for you today?”

“anything else you want, oikawa?” you ask him but he shakes his head in response. “i think that’ll be all for us today then, maia.”

you’re about to insert your card into the chip holder when suddenly oikawa grabs your arm and plucks the card out of your hand.

“h-hey! what are you doing? give me my card back!”

“didn’t i tell you that it was on the house earlier?” he looks at you with a teasing smirk on his face and before you could protest again, a pleasant sound comes out of the machine, signaling that the transaction was successful.

“such a gentleman! you should snatch him up before someone else does, y/n!” maia coos.

“i think it’d be best for someone else to snatch him up, i don’t think i could handle all of... this.” you motion to his entire body.

“are you flirting with me?” oikawa had a shit-eating grin on his face that you were so tempted to wipe off, but his actions from less than a minute ago still caught you off guard and you had to admit, you were glad he wasn’t a cheapskate and offered to pay in your stead— well, more forced you out of paying.

“thanks, oikawa,” you didn’t know what you had the other day to make you act so bold, but you stood on your tiptoes and planted a chaste kiss on his cheek out of gratitude. “for being the only gentleman on campus, even though you’re technically not a student here.”

out of instinct, oikawa’s hand immediately flys up to the spot where your lips touched his skin and starts to graze it.

“heh, i like your spunk, y/n.” he shows you a cheeky smile.

“don’t let it get to your head, it was just a complimentary kiss.” you laugh and it sounds more melodious than usual to oikawa’s ears for some reason.

“so...” he starts and you let out a small ‘hm?’ which prompts him to continue. “do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

“i don’t think so? i have the dorm all to myself from when reina goes to her blind date and up until she comes back, so if you wanna do something then i don’t mind squeezing you into my schedule!” you reply, but a thought suddenly resurfaces in your mind. “no frat parties though, i heard one of iwaizumi’s friends are hosting one tonight but i don’t think i can think about another frat party without having to gouge my eyeballs out.”

“got it, no frat parties,” oikawa chuckles. “if it makes you feel any better, i never liked those frat parties anyways and i only went because iwaizumi is the only person i know here which meant i was obligated to follow him around everywhere but now that i know you, it changes the whole game!”

“i’m just as new to california as you are oikawa, don’t get your hopes up too high.”

“but that’s the fun part about it, right? we get to explore california together! it really feels like we’re a couple don’t you think?” he blurts out in the heat of the moment but quickly comes to realize the weight of his words. “oh shit— sorry... i hope you’re not uncomfortable hearing me say that out loud.”

“not at all!” you look down at your shoes for a fleeting moment before looking back up at oikawa. “it’s quite... endearing? i’ve never really had a lot of ‘guy friends’ and mostly hung around with girls so this is the first time i’ve ever really had a guy show any interest in me— platonically of course!”

“and you’ve never ever had a boyfriend before?” oikawa lifts an eyebrow.

“nope, never even had my first kiss,” you say but you think back to the events that took place last night. “well, up until yesterday...”

you tried to hide the grimace on your face as the memory of you and iwaizumi kissing kept playing on repeat in your mind, but oikawa was able to see right through your mask and clenched his fists as he recalled the distressed look on your face when he and reina found you crying in the bathroom.

oikawa believed that you should have deserved to have your first kiss taken by someone who truly loved you, but instead, it was taken away by his scum of a best friend, who, he was currently disappointed in for treating you the way he did last night.

oikawa is about to open his mouth up to say something, but he’s interrupted before he even gets a chance to say anything when maia announces that your order is ready.

“it smells so good, maia!” you say after you skip over to the other side of the counter and take a whiff of the freshly baked pastries.

“oh you’re making me blush, y/n!” maia cups her cheeks bashfully while you laugh at her antics.

you shake up the cup of boba so that the pearls were evenly distributed throughout the drink before taking a straw and puncturing a hole through the film on top of the cup, taking a small sip after you mix the drink around one last time with the straw.

“mhm! so good!” you lean back, not realizing that oikawa had moved to stand right behind you, resulting in you crashing into his chest.

“shit, you scared me oikawa!” you laugh as you slap his chest. “want some?”

you hold the straw up to his lips, and you notice the way his eyes widen by a fraction.

“you wanna share?”

“well yeah? unless you’re scared of getting cooties or something, what are you? 12?” you tease. “or are you worried that it’s an indirect kiss? i can always get another—”

your rambling is cut off when his lips wrap around the straw and he takes a long sip of the drink in your hand.

“there, we just indirectly kissed!” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before shooting you a goofy grin.

“pft, how childish do you have to be to be freaked out over an indirect kiss.” you mumble, but it doesn’t cover up the blood that rushes up to your face, painting your cheeks in a pinkish hue which oikawa finds endearing.

part one | part two | part three | part four

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@katsukibabe • @thecaptainyuri • @satorisflatass • @daphnxy • @aonenthusiast • @felixsamour • @literaleftist

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Second Best

Based on this request: “a Zoya Nazyalensky story where she and the reader are friends and one night they get into a fight and Zoya confesses her love?”

masterlist

The task before you is simple. All you have to do is use your abilities as a Grisha Squaller to pick up the metal spear before you and launch it across a clearing into the awaiting target. It’s almost offensively easy, something you’ve been training to do since you arrived at the Little Palace all those years ago. It’s very simple, although the fact that you’re now next in line to complete the task makes it seem strangely harder.

However, the eyes of the rest of the Squallers are upon you, so you can’t exactly back down now. You step forward, lifting your hands in the traditional gestures used by the Etherealki whenever they have it in their minds to do something particularly interesting, and the spear lifts before you. You let it hover there, suspended in the air for a second, and then you fling your hands forward, palms facing the target. The spear flies in unison with your movement, burying itself halfway through its length in the target. It’s almost a perfect shot, maybe off by a hair’s breadth. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

You can hear applause from behind you, the usual aura of surprise that comes with the feat you’ve just accomplished. With a casual gesture of your fingers, the spear yanks itself out of the target, with only a few sparse pieces of straw falling to the ground as any sort of damage. Well, that and the gaping hole in the center of the target, although that is quickly mended by the Fabrikator kept on hand. You can’t help but grin to yourself as the spear returns to your hand. Let’s see anyone else match that.

You may have spoken a little too soon- seconds after you’ve returned the spear to its awaiting position near the front of the courtyard, it’s hurled again through the air, shooting with the precision of an arrow to land in the direct center of the target. You thought it might be impossible to improve upon the slight difference in your shot, but this latest Squaller has managed it with ease.

Normally, any other blue-garbed Etherealki would be looking around in horror and dismay, upset as to what would cost them the first place spot in the class and curious as to who could land a perfect shot such as that. You, however, are somewhat used to this now, and just keep walking with a grin. You can hear footsteps approaching behind you, and don’t even have to turn around to acknowledge the girl now matching your strides.

“Nice one, Zoya.” The girl beside you smirks. “I should hope so. If I so much as missed the center by a hair, you wouldn’t let me forget it for a week.” You laugh. “Of course not. How could I let go of the chance to not tease Zoya’Best In Class’ Nazyalensky? It would practically be a crime.” Zoya nods, pretending to be serious. “Absolutely. The Saints might invoke their wrath upon you if you didn’t act upon such an opportunity.” You fling your hand over your heart dramatically. “Here lies Y/N L/N, dead after the Saints wanted to see her make fun of her friend and she let them down.”

Zoya snorts graciously as you pretend to faint on her, shoving your mock limp body aside. “Oh, you consider us friends?” You catch yourself easily, rolling your eyes. “Zoya dear, I know it would bring you no greater pleasure in the world to consider yourself a lone wolf, forever at the front of the pack, but I thought you’d realized by now that you simply can’t get rid of me. We’re friends.”

You can hear Zoya grumbling, but when you glance over at her, there’s an ill-concealed smile dancing behind her eyes. “That’s an interesting way to convince people to like you, annoy them and make sure you don’t ever leave you alone.” You raise an eyebrow at her. “And did it work, yes or no?” Zoya huffs. “It did, but we’re not talking about that.” You grin. “Of course we’re not.”

You pause by the halls of the Little Palace, ready to part ways as usual. Although the Etherealki and Squallers specifically all have their quarters around the same area, Zoya’s rooms are a ways away from your own. This is typically where you split up, where you go your way and Zoya returns to her own devices, where she’ll most likely plot how to take control of the next lesson and prove herself the best of the students yet again.

However, Zoya shakes her head, continuing to walk next to you. “There are too many people waiting by my doors. I’m staying in yours instead, if that’s alright.” You nod, unable to keep a teasing grin from your face. “Of course it’s alright. It must be so hard, having to deal with suitors and fans so often. I imagine it to be simply exhausting.” You’re expecting Zoya’s vexed scowl and smack on the arm, so you’re able to duck out of the range of both.

This is how it is to be close friends with Zoya Nazyalensky, after all. You laugh with her, develop a thick enough skin to stand the constant scathing remarks that must of course be exchanged, and do your best to keep up with the neverending flow of power and possibility that always seems to come her way. That’s how it has always been, and how it will always be.

It’s not that you mind this, of course. You learned early on that no matter how hard you try, she’s always going to come in first in the class competitions and Grisha displays of strength. Being second out of so many Etherealki is pretty damn good for you, and you can tell that there’s a slight sigh of relief in Zoya’s eyes when you never seem to mind her showing off or ruining what might have been a first place finish for you. Hey- you never came to the Little Palace to always be the best, you came to learn and laugh, and you do that with Zoya. You would never trade what you have with her for fierce competition, even if it meant that you’d start besting her in contests.

This isn’t to say that you wouldn’t change slight aspects of your friendship, of course. For some reason, your heart decided to join the scores of other Grisha and even otkazat’sya that were foolish enough to fall in love with Zoya, and you’re just as hopeless as the rest. It’s just the way that she laughs when she wins, the glimmer of competition and spirit in everything she does, the undeniable thrill in your chest whenever you spot the familiar blue-clad silhouette heading briskly your way. No, you don’t think there was ever a way that you wouldn’t fall under her spell, even if you tried your hardest to fight it.

You could have told her you loved her, you think. You could have mentioned it to Zoya at any point, but you don’t. You’ve seen the way she watches potential friends for their weaknesses, having to always second-guess why they’re talking to her. Is this latest Corporalki approaching her because he truly wants to be her friend, or is it because he instead desires the secrets of her skill in Grisha abilities or as another girl in his bed? For anyone else, you think the constant doubts would drive someone mad, but it doesn’t for Zoya. She’s able to tuck it inside herself, bury it until you wouldn’t even know it was there at all.

She told you once, when the night was dark and long and Zoya couldn’t stop herself from having slightly too much kvas after a hard mission, that she sometimes terrifies herself over the fact that she might always be alone. You can still picture her there, curled up in a chair by your fire, the haunted look in her eyes. You know something happened before she came to the Little Palace, something that made her never trust another soul unless they worked to prove it, but it’s hovering in the back of her mind right now.

So, you nodded at her, and gave her another one of your sapphire blankets to help the way that she won’t stop shivering, and you listen. When Zoya looks up at you again, as if expecting to leave like the others or at least shoo her from your rooms, you simply offer for her to stay the night and not have to go back to her empty quarters. You think that was the moment when she finally accepted that you weren’t going away, when she really started to trust you.

This is precisely why you cannot say a word about how you feel- if Zoya finds out, she’ll begin to wonder if your entire friendship was just borne of a lie, the same as any of the other heartstruck Etherealki who think themselves brave enough to tame Zoya. So, you make sure to direct your lingering glances towards the woods and the scenery around you instead of her, and you force a joking smile instead of a soft look. She would know what you meant if you didn’t hide your heart, so you must do your best to deceive her.

You’ve arrived in your rooms by now, tossing your outer coats to the side and warming your hands by the fire in the corner. You talk for a while about the class and the other students and the way Marie won’t stop staring at Sergei, a Corpoalki who she most certainly should not be associated with. Zoya stays until the candles burn low, and then she says goodbye with a smile. You return her smile. You always do.

You have a most interesting conversation over the next week. It’s not with Zoya, as it turns out, but General Kirigan. Truth be told, you weren’t expecting it at all. He’d caught you unawares in the library one night, while you were studying the particulars of the making at the heart of the world for a class lecture the next day. He hadn’t been there one second yet appeared the next, looming over your book with a shadow that seemed too tall and menacing to be real.

You had looked up in surprise, but he held up a hand, quelling any doubts that you’d accidentally done something wrong. He spoke to you about a regiment of Grisha in one of the backwater towns, some part of the Second Army that was asking for far too many supplies in exchange for the lackluster job they were doing to protect the potential Grisha in the city. For some reason, he asked your opinion of what to do about them, and you gave it. He thanked you with a smile, then left.

This happened twice more. All three times, he showed up, talked with you for a little bit, and asked a question on what you thought of a particular issue. Sometimes, it was still with the Second Army, and sometimes it was with the opportunities presented to the Grisha at the Little Palace itself. He seemed intrigued to hear what classes were like, saying how he had heard you were one of the best Squallers there were. You had smiled at that, and his eyes had glinted like a hound about to take down his prey.

That was the third visit, the most recent visit. You’re walking back to your quarters now, unable to keep a slight grin from your face. This is it, isn’t it? This is how you make your way from the classrooms of the Little Palace to the battlefield, to a real chance to do something different. When you open your doors, Zoya is propped up in an armchair inside, although this does not surprise you. You’ve long since given her free reign of all that is yours.

She looks up at you, a question already bubbling up in her inquisitive glance. “What’s got you so excited?” She’s never been able to miss a detail, has she? You can’t seem to tuck your smile away. “I’ve been speaking to General Kirigan, three times now. I think he might be on the verge of offering me a job in the Second Army.” You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting from Zoya- an expression of surprise, maybe some congratulatory words. Whatever you thought might happen, you were certainly not expecting her to stand up, face twisted in something that looked almost like fear and anger.

“You can’t do that. You should avoid him as much as possible.” Your feet stall from where you’d been crossing the room to her. “What are you talking about?” Zoya shakes her head, almost manic. “You should stay away from him. What did he tell you?” This, coming from your closest friend when you’d been so excited, is enough to make your happiness start to leach from you, replaced by a cold bewilderment and betrayal. “What does it matter? Zoya, this could be my future.”

Zoya seems unwilling to hear you out. “Tell me what he said, Y/N. You can’t trust a word he says.” You scoff. “I’m not a fool, Zoya. I know what he said, and none of it was a trick. He spoke to me like a friend, and last time he talked to me about potential openings within the Grisha ranks. I could have a position. Isn’t that excellent?” Zoya shakes her head once more. “It’s a trick. He won’t give you anything. Don’t tell me you’re actually going to believe what he says?”

You draw back from her now, all traces of excitement gone from you. “Why are you saying this? Maybe I don’t know if he truly means it or not, but you don’t know anything about this. Saints, I thought you might actually be happy for me.” Zoya almost winces at that. “I’m not- I would be happy for you if I thought this was something real, Y/N, but it’s not. Nothing is with him.” You can feel yourself rising up in anger. “Oh, and you would know about that, wouldn’t you? From all of the time you spent with him? Are you truly doubtful, Zoya, or do you just not want me to be involved with him because you don’t want me to have anything that you hadn’t had first?”

The words are coming out faster now, one after the other. Truth be told, it’s almost good to hear them aloud after so long keeping them inside. “I never had a problem with you being first in class, first in everything. I never will, but I assumed that you would extend that same courtesy to me. Why is it that we’re friends in everything, but the second I seem to get some sort of headway, you have to prove it wrong? Can’t I have anything that isn’t yours already?”

Zoya draws back as if you’ve slapped her. “That’s not how I feel. I’m just trying to keep you safe.” You want to laugh. “This is how you keep me safe? By taking everything away from me until I’m only in your shadow and nowhere else?” Zoya flings her hands in the air. “If it means he doesn’t get his hooks in you, yes! I would rather have you stay here forever than lose you.” You look at her, unbelieving. “And why is that? Because we’re such good friends that you’d trade my future for my complacency?”

Zoya’s voice is soft now, barely there at all. “Because I cannot stand to lose you. Because I love you, Saints damn it, and I’d rather have you hate me than never have you at all.” You stand there for a second, then another, then another. Your breath is sharp and harsh in your chest, but you cannot seem to say a single word. You try for a few, anyway. “You love me?” She nods once. “Yes.”

You do laugh now, incredulous. “Why didn’t you say so, you idiot? I love you too.” She looks almost surprised. “I thought- I thought you just wanted to be friends.” You shrug. All of your anger is receding away from you now, washing back into the banks after a flood. “I did, because I thought that’s all you wanted. I didn’t want to make it seem like I was only your friend because I had feelings for you.” Zoya stands there for a moment, then something almost like a sigh comes from her and she steps forward, wrapping her arms around you. “You generous, impossible fool. I can’t stand you.” You laugh, returning her embrace. “Of course not. You love me.”

requested by @villnella

grishaverse tag list: someone who would be my squaller bestie @underc0vercryptid, @darlinggbrekker, @cameronsails, @aleksanderwh0r3

#zoya nazyalensky #zoya nazyalensky imagines #zoya nazyalensky x reader #zoya nazyalensky oneshot #grishaverse #shadow and bone #grishaverse imagines #shadow and bone imagines #grishaverse oneshot #shadow and bone oneshot #sab #sab imagines #sab oneshot #zoya #zoya imagines #zoya x reader #zoya oneshot

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autumn-writes · 3 years

Note

Can i get komeada with a Fem! S/o who willingly Claims they're a talentless recourse student, but when he reads her Files later, it turns out she purposely Lied, and is in fact non other than the ULTIMATE hope

certainly! i've been thinking of how to write this request for a while, and with a lot of changes of decision, i decided to make this a one shot. sorry this took a while, hope you're still with me nonnie.

Hidden Hope

Nagito Komaeda x Reader

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Nagito had always thought you were suspicious, ever since the very first day he met you.

"My name is S/O S/N. I... Unfortunately do not have a talent, but I hope to work well with you all."

Confusion. That was all I he could feel about your presence. Why was a talentless person put with a group filled with symbols of hope? Sure, he didn't consider himself a part of the group but at least he had a talent, despite it being trashy.

The announcement of the killing school trip had been a shocker to everyone. Everyone was forced to live their lives on this trip on edge, in fear of the next second possibly being their final.

Nagito didn't know how to act, but he certainly wasn't going to treat you nice. I mean, what worth do you have, possessing no talent that could make you a harbinger of hope for the future? You don't deserve the kindness he would treat others with. Not at all.

The first trial had arrived fast. The death of Byakuya Togami, the Ultimate Progeny has happened. Nagito, along with a certain someone was aware of all the things that happened. After all, the Progeny's death was caused by them.

Things seemed hopeless, the situation not going well at all. Clues could barely be scraped and as for the truth? Everyone seemed like they had been thrown into a sea with a metal weight around their leg as they desperately tried their best to swim upwards and survive. Everything was going terribly wrong. This trip wasn't supposed to—

And that's when you spoke up.

"You all can't fall into despair so easily! The truth, we're close. We have to be. Don't lose hope!"

There. The phrase "don't lose hope" left your lips.

Nagito sneered, basically mocking you of your words.

"And what exactly would talentless student know of hope? Please, you probably don't know what you're talking about."

Everyone fell silent at Nagito's words. It wasn't that they agreed with him, they just couldn't—

"If I know one thing, Komaeda, it's that I know hope better than anyone else."

Since that time, your words have been engraved in Nagito's mind.

"If I know one thing, Komaeda, it's that I know hope better than anyone else."

Something was up with you. The words that you spoke to him, they were filled with so much... Seriousness. It didn't seem like you were messing around when you said that.

Trial after trial had passed, classmates and friends slowly falling like flies. Until, the fourth.

Nekomaru Nidai, who had been turned into a robot, was murdered. And the culprit? One of the students, of course. That's how this game works.

To be of use, Nagito had decided to go through the Final Dead Room, a room where a game of life or death stay present. You either make it out alive, or your corpse rots inside.

The Final Dead Room was no match for the male's deduction. He had gone through the escape room as if it were a breeze.

The door of the room opened, revealing a revolver and some bullets. Ah, so he was supposed to play Russian Roulette.

Not wasting a second, the male loaded the gun with 5 bullets and pointed it to his head before pulling the trigger, despite Monomi's desperate claims for him to stop. Luckily for him, he survived.

Surviving the game at the highest difficulty, Nagito received two prizes from the bear. One being knowledge of funhouse's structure, and second being a file containing all of the students' information.

'This is it,' Nagito thought. He could finally learn the truth. He could finally learn what your talent was. He doubted your claims before, and he sure as hell still didn't believe in them now.

You were mysterious and suspicious from the get-go. There was just no way you could be talentless. The hope that shines in your eyes... It's even more remarkable than the symbols of hope he had come to worship. There was just some things about you that he knew he didn't know,

and he was determined to find out what they were, starting with your true talent.

He had opened the file, his eyes immediately scanning the pages littered with words that had been absorbed by his mind. Each new discovery only becoming worse and worse.

Leaving the Octagon, Nagito used the secret passage that had been one of his gifts and made his way to Grape House where you, as well as a few others resided for the time being.

Nagito was still flabbergasted from his discoveries. The fact that he and the rest were Remnants of Despair, that they had been using their talents for the despair of mankind, ruining the future. He had found out that Hajime was talentless from the Reserve Course, too.

But that wasn't the most surprising. When he had gotten to your information, he had made a pause before proceeding to read, the words inked on the papers burning into his mind.

'S/O S/N, also known as the Ultimate Hope. They were the only student who had managed to escape the brainwashing performed by the mastermind of it all. S/N, despite doing their best, had failed to pull their classmates out of the Ultimate Despair's hands. Up till today, they most certainly have not given up. They will not stop until Hope is restored within each and every student. At least, that was stated by them.'

Upon reading the information underneath your student profile, Nagito could only think of how he's gotten everything wrong.

He had treated the Ultimate Hope horribly, while the Remnants of Despair had been praised and held up high.

Worthless. Mere dirt on the bottom of your shoe. That was what he was. He'd do anything to make it up to the Ultimate Hope, anything. And that is when his mind had started to think craftily.

You had made observations on things that had changed noticably. You had made note of Nagito's change of attitude directed towards you.

He seemed to worship the air you breathe and the ground you walk on. He helped you during the fourth trial, disregarding everyone else and even throwing his malice at them.

What was up with him? Why the sudden change? You made another note to confront him about it soon.

So now here you are, resting on your bed. You were thinking of how to approach Nagito about what had happened when all of a sudden, a knock on your door disrupted your thoughts.

Looking up at the clock you had, it was 10:00 in the night. Nighttime, to be more precise.

Cautiously, you walked to the door and opened it, and on the other side, you saw the man that you were just thinking about.

Raising an eyebrow at him, he made a motion as if asking you if he could come in, to which you obliged. He had entered your cottage, clutching what seems to be a file.

He took a few steps in, before dropping down to his knees. The file in his arms opening conveniently to the page where your information is written.

Your eyes widened upon catching sight of what was written underneath your profile. So he knows...

"Why didn't you tell anyone? You didn't have to hide anything, S/N. If you had said you were the Ultimate Hope, I— I would've kissed your boots and let you kick dirt in my mouth-! Ha— AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

Insane. That was one word to describe him as of now. Nagito looked up at you, the swirling insanity in his green-gray eyes being something you were familiar with already.

He clutched onto your arm, as if he were steadying himself before hoisting himself off the ground. He was still wheezing, laughter not dying down at all.

"You are the Ultimate Hope. The person who I admire. For the Hope of mankind, you must- you must escape! But don't you worry sweet, precious hope. I'll be sure to get you out of here. I could let you kill me—! I'll take them all down with me! You'll get out of here, I'm sure of it.

Even if it's the last thing I do."

You are hope hidden from the rest. The one true hope that can save everyone from despair. It didn't matter to Nagito if he had to die. It didn't matter to him if he had to take them down with him. You were needed. After all, you were...

the hidden hope of mankind. you mustn't die. even if a few sacrifices are made, you must live on.

finally finished this. this took so long anon i'm so so sorry ;;-;; i wasn't contented with the previous endings i've written, so i kept re-writing this till i was finally satisfied with how this went.

i hope you enjoyed this! do tell me if this wasn't to your liking! i'll try my best to re-write it if it wasn't satisfactory. do take care of yourself and stay safe! eat your meals, stay hydrated, and refrain from overworking yourself.

#nagito komaeda x reader #sdr2 x reader #mod mahiru writes #mod mahiru

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sdr2lovemail · 3 years

Note

I just noticed that you are alive again! So um.. I've been thinking for QUITE a while of a relationship Ultimate Impostor x Ultimate Leader (in the killing game ig?), idk why. If the requests are closed feel free to ignore this. Thank you!

You could say that I am a fan of Imposter's work. Even tho there is not a lot of content about them out there I still love them dearly.

And yes I died for a minute but have risen from the grave to continue my writing career. I hope you enjoy what I have written my friend because I absolutely love it.

⚔Mod Peko⚔

Spoilers for chapter 1

The Ultimate Imposter disguised as Byakuya Togami and the Ultimate Leader butt heads but also kinda wanna kiss each other

Teenagers and a killing game are bound to fall into chaos. Teenagers, a killing game, and no supervision will cause more chaos. That’s why they need a leader. Someone strong and brave to guide them. However two ultimates wanting to be that leader, teenagers, a killing game, and no supervision will cause even more chaos.

Breakfast was a usually calm time. Everyone just wanted to eat and get on with finding a way off this forced school trip. However there were some mornings where everyone seemed to be full of energy. Akane and Nekomaru were engaged in a fierce 1v1 training session. Chairs, tables, and food flying throughout the air from the power of their moves. The restaurant was in total disarray and with your talent of being a leader you must do something to calm the crowd. Standing up you set your arms behind your back and call out to your classmates.

“Everyone! This is-”

“Sit down, common folk. You will all cease this foolish behavior and stop wasting food.”

“Huh?”

At the mention of wasting food Akane quickly stops her fighting. She then pulls up a table and chair from the mess of the restaurant and begins to chow down. You look at where the voice came from and see Twogami sitting at a table with a plate. Just because this guy is loaded he thinks he can be a better leader than you? Oh you will just have a quick word with him to set the record straight. With quick strides you tap him on the shoulder giving him your best stern look. This look helped you strike the feeling of order into people. But Twogami doesn’t look impressed at all?! No you can’t let him see you falter. Standing up straighter than ever you begin to speak.

‘Hey what’s the big idea? I’m the Ultimate leader. I don’t need your help guiding our class.” You told him with a grim expression. Twogami gave you a look over before setting down his fork. He wipes his mouth off with a napkin before standing to face you. His intimidation factor was off the charts. Can money buy such a scary aura?! After adjusting his glasses he begins to speak with a sigh.

“Listen I, Byakuya Twogami, am much better suited to be in charge. You may have your impeccable wits and title but that is nothing compared to being next in the Togami line. Now are we done here? I would like to finish my food”

Not even giving you a chance to respond he goes right back to eating. Even with your ultimate status this guy intimidates you a lot. But you will not be backing down. He thinks he’s so high and mighty you’ll show him high and mighty.

The days feel like they’re getting heavier. Monokuma’s annoying voice rings in your ears. There’s no way you’d believe that memory loss garbage….And even if you did, you had to stay strong for everyone. Twogami’s party did nothing to calm the tense feeling in the air. You decided you were going to check this abandoned building from top to bottom before anyone steps foot inside.

You do not see Nagito when you first step in. Maybe he’s cleaning somewhere else. Teruteru was said to be in the kitchen. Entering the main room of the building you see Twogami rifling through what looks to be a metal case. Hearing the floors creak under your weight he looks over. Upon seeing you he sends a glare.

“And what are you doing here? I don’t remember you having to prepare anything.” There was a doubtful tone to his voice. Twogami was trying to let this party go off without a hitch. And he wasn’t going to let some commoner ruin his plans. Though behind the rich boy costume Imposter did feel kinda bad. They felt like they were trampling all over your pride with their Byakuya act. However this was their ultimate. And as Twogami….No. Just as themself, if that even existed, they will keep their classmates safe. Even if they have to hurt some feelings.

“As a leader it is my duty to keep everyone in order and assure maximum safety. I plan to do a total sweep of the place before the party.” And like he did to you, you did not give him a chance to answer. You quickly turn around and exit out into the hallway missing the look of awe on Twogami’s face. Walking past the fire door you come up to the kitchen. Before you can reach for the door it swings open revealing Nagito. Strange….If Teruteru was already in the kitchen there was no need for Nagito to be in there. The lucky student passed by with a smile yet spoke no words towards you. Also strange. Nagito usually said something when passing. He deemed it rude not to say hello to an ultimate.

Entering the kitchen you see Teruteru at the counter. He doesn’t seem to notice you coming in. The usual smile on his face is replaced with a look of fear and he’s shaking like a leaf. Stepping closer seems to have caught his attention as he jumps. The look of fear is swiftly changed into a smile yet he’s still shaking. Teruteru then grabs a knife and begins chopping at some vegetables. Seems as if he’s trying to make it seem like he was simply taking a break.

“W-Why hello there. Heh, what could I do for you?” He’s shaken up quite a bit. Not a single flirty remark in that sentence and Teruteru sure did like to tease about your strong authority. You stand tall and look down at the chef. He visibly shrinks back. Looking him dead in the eye you start to command him.

“You will tell me what you have discussed with Nagito Komaeda.”

This caused Teruteru to tense up. Setting down the knife he grabs a comb from his pocket and begins to bring it through his hair. Though there isn’t a hair out of place on his pompadour. Appears to be a nervous habit.

“I uh….I have no idea what you mean mon ami~. We were simply discussing plans for the upcoming party.” Teruteru had tried to come off as collected but you knew better. He wasn’t making eye contact and he was constantly fidgeting. Nagito told him something and you were going to find out what.

“Teruteru Hanamura! I command you to tell me what Nagito had told you. Simple party plans would not have such an impact on your demeanor.”

This seemed to have caused a reaction in him. He began to blubber as words poured out of his mouth like a dam cracking under pressure.

“He came in here and told me that he had plans to murder someone at the party with the knife he had hidden under one of the tables in the dining room. He planned to overload the breaker in here with irons in the storage room to cause a blackout so he could grab the knife and kill someone during the party. I-I begun to form my own plan of stopping him….by….killing him?” The last part of his word vomit stuck with Teruteru. He would’ve had someone’s blood on his hands and would send the rest of his class to their own demise. “Oh my god I was going to kill him!” Teruteru then sinks to his knees before you.

Your face softens as you see the mess of a chef on the ground. Nagito was planning a murder? Why would he share this information with Teruteru? Dropping down to his level you set a careful hand on Teruteru’s back. “Listen. I’m going to go grab Twogami and you’re going to tell him what happened. And we’ll come up with a solution.” You normally wouldn’t call for backup, but as this was his party you felt he had the right to know.

You cautiously leave the kitchen and begin to look for the blond. Not able to find him in the building you exit to the hotel grounds. Noticing the while suit and blonde hair you call out to him and ask for him to come back. Leading him to the kitchen where Teruteru still sits slumped on the ground he listens to what you already know.

A look of disgust crosses Twogami’s face before he sets off to the main room. After announcing your departure to Teruteru, you follow him. Nagito is there setting up tables and dusting the furniture. He was about to offer the two of you a cheerful greeting but is cut off by your demand for him to exit the grounds. Not wanting to upset an ultimate that is clearly in higher ranks than he is, Nagito does not question it. He leaves the abandoned building to rest in his cottage to wait for permission to be allowed back in.

Looking under the tables you find the knife that Teruteru had mentioned. Grabbing it proceeds to coat your hand in wet paint. So Nagito had just planted this. But what’s the paint for?

“Set the knife in the duralumin case I brought on the left. I am currently using it to store anything I deem unsafe.”

You let out a scoff before setting the knife in the case. He sure does love bossing people around even in dire situations. Well….I guess that’s your talent so you can’t really speak. After doing a check of the rest of the tables, Twogami walks up to you with something in his hand. It’s a handkerchief with the Togami family crest. Imposter spent many hours perfecting the stitching of the symbol. You give him a confused look about the offering. Seeing the expression he rolls his eyes.

“Close your mouth before flies start to swarm. This is to wipe your hand off. I don’t need paint smears ruining the image of my party.”

“What? I can’t wipe paint on something as expensive as that. That handkerchief probably cost more than my house. I’ll just go wash it in the bathroom.”

Upset by your stubborn nature, Twogami grabs your wrist and begins to wipe the paint off himself. After your hand is clean he drops the cloth into your hand. “I expect that to be washed before it’s returned to me. Now I have some important matters to discuss.”

Stuffing the handkerchief into your pocket you give Twogami your full attention.

“I have decided that after this little incident we need to up the security. I would ask Nekomaru but I wish to keep this between us. Letting the public know that two people were planning a murder would cause chaos. When it’s time for the party you will help me conduct body searches. I’d like for you to keep an eye on the party with me to make sure no suspicious activity is at play.”

While normally you would make a fuss about him bossing you around with people’s lives at stake it was simply not the time for that. Nodding once he finishes speaking, you and Twogami complete one last look of the place before the party starts.

It’s time for the party and the two of you are set up outside of the abandoned building. After checking everyone and confiscating anything deemed dangerous, the party is in full swing. Everything is going smoothly. 11:30 was nearing and at the corner of your eye you see Nagito inch closer to the table. Knowing you shut the irons off you pay this no mind. There’s no way he’d try to pull anything when everyone can see him. A quick look of confusion crosses his face as the lights are still on. The confused expression is swapped for one of despair. There’s a creepy smile on his face and his eyes are clouded. Even if the blackout did not occur Nagito can still pull through with his plan.

He suddenly flips the table cloth over and goes to reach for his knife. Everyone at the party has eyes on him. Before he can fully register that his knife is in fact missing Nagito is pushed to the ground. His arms are pressed against his back and his face is squished into the floor. Multiple confused cries echo throughout the dining hall. Nagito recognized this tactic. After hours upon hours of researching the ultimates he’s sharing a class with he could easily tell that this was your work.

Twogami with Nekomaru in tow walks over to you and the detained lucky student. An agitated expression is on the heir’s face. He looks down at Nagito.

“You dare to think that I would let your plan continue? [Name] and I knew about your scheme and were quick to put a stop to it. And the fact that you would try to pull through with it in broad light is despicable.”

Anger, disgust, and confusion are present in the crowd of your classmates. Trying to make sense of it all Akane speaks up.

“I’m so friggin’ confused. What plan did Nagito have? Need me to beat him up for ya?”

You were quick to diminish the violent thought. “No, that will not be necessary as he has already been disarmed.”

“Nagito had planned out a murder.”

Twogami’s words caused a commotion in the dining hall. After hearing the noise from the kitchen, Teruteru cautiously enters the room fearing the worst. Though a feeling of relief washed over him after seeing Nagito on the ground.

Nekomaru lets out a strangled noise. His teeth are clenched and his fists tightened.

“You were going to murder one of your classmates? THAT’S INEXCUSABLE! Please [Name] allow me to detain him somewhere away from everyone. SOMEONE LIKE HIM CANNOT WALK FREEEEE!”

Looking over to Twogami as if silently discussing what to do he sends you a nod. Removing Nagito from your grasp he is quickly put into Nekomaru’s. The coach is quick to remove him from the premises. With a sigh Twogami faces your classmates. Pushing his glasses up he begins to apologise.

“I am sorry you all had to see that. And I am sorry that my exquisite party must draw to a close here. Exit the building and head to your cottage for the night.”

Though shaken, everyone proceeds to leave in groups. No one wants to walk back alone fearing that someone will try something. With just you and Twogami left he turns to face you.

“That was quite impressive. What you did back there was helpful in getting Nagito detained. I believe that we should come to an agreement. Yes we are fine separately but together I feel that we could do an outstanding job at keeping everyone safe.”

Twogami extended a chubby hand out for you to shake. This handshake would seal the two of you into a partnership. One of which would keep your class safe. Looking from his hand to his face then back to his hand you sit there in thought. This could be a wonderful idea. With two people working together that’s like double the safety. With a smile you shake his hand giving it a tight squeeze.

“I think I’d like that Twogami! From here on out the two of us are now Jabberwock Island’s health and safety committee.”

#ultimate imposter x reader #danganronpa x reader #imposter x reader #byakuya twogami x reader #ultimate imposter #byakuya twogami #super danganronpa goodbye despair #danganronpa #danganronpa imagine #sdr2 x reader #sdr2 #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa imagines #x reader #insert an original name here #Jabberwock Island Health and Safety Committee

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oathkeeper-of-tarth · 3 years

Text

The d’Avenir Treatise on the Essentials of Monster Hunting (Vol I) - Preface and Introduction

The timing of this whole thing with the campaign is pretty amazing, as it turns out. In the middle of absolute work hell and attempts to sort out my general apartment/living situation, a little while ago I entered a fic into the /r/CurseOfStrahd second annual fanfic contest. It was one of my attempts to kind of write out and process the way our own run through the module went, stretch out some poor, suffering, unused writing muscles, and it was also super duper self-indulgent. So I'm very, very proud to say it won first place amidst some really great competition, and super happy to rep my best girl Ez.

Summary: In the aftermath of Strahd's destruction and the not-quite-loss of her mentor, Ezmerelda d'Avenir sets out to tie up loose ends and lay some ghosts to rest, and continues carving out a path for herself in the Domains of Dread.

Word count: 9999, as there was a 10k limit. I had fun.

Rating/Warnings: T, with canon-typical violence, and dealing with death and loss in a general gothic horror setting. Spoilers for the Curse of Strahd module.

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The d’Avenir Treatise on the Essentials of Monster Hunting (Vol I) - Preface and Introduction

Being a compendium of successes, failures, tricks, and warnings relating to detecting, tracking, fighting, and ultimately destroying undead, fiends, lycanthropes, and assorted monstrosities.

1.1. Introductory remarks

Their ride back to town is a quiet one. The silence is broken only once they are sitting, their hunting and travelling gear half-unpacked and strewn about, in the library just above van Richten's herbalist shop.

"Were we in any other profession, this would be a cause for celebration," van Richten's lips twist into a bittersweet wisp of a smile, and he pushes a warm cup of tea into her hands. "A demonstration of pride in an apprentice's first job well done, for all to see and revel in."

Ezmerelda tries to look up at him and meet his gaze properly, but her shoulders, her head, her eyes all feel too heavy. A leaden weight seems to have settled on every bit of her. She is tired, bone-deep, but the very thought of lying down and closing her eyes to attempt to sleep fills her with disgust and no small amount of dread. She knows exactly what she will see. The man, just on the cusp of middle age, entirely unremarkable at first... features quickly twisting into a mask of monstrous hunger, then to wide-eyed horror, and, finally, resorting to desperate pleas for mercy as the stake hits home and his screeching form dissolves to ash.

It feels like the ash still coats the back of her mouth. The tea smells of strong herbs, with just a whiff of something even stronger that van Richten must have snuck in from the liquor cabinet. Her hands clench around the cup, and a burning need to justify and defend herself drives her to finally speak up.

"I was ready," she insists. "I am ready."

"I know," van Richten replies, softly, sadly.

The tea scalds her tongue, but she drinks it anyway.

---

Getting up from the damp, cold floor of the tomb again feels like an impossibility. She can barely keep her head above the ground, eyes stinging with a mixture of blood and sweat and the glare of pure, magical sunlight. The clawed gashes on her ribcage burn with every weak, hard-won breath, and a metallic taste coats the back of her tongue.

But she is not done yet. She has one last lightning bolt left in her, and Strahd and his dusk elf lackey are so beautifully, perfectly aligned. Ezmerelda can't keep her lips from curling up into a smirk as she raises an arm and mutters her incantation, feeling that familiar tickle of static rising all around her.

She holds on, builds it up as much as she can, teeth grinding together, ears buzzing - until she can hold on no longer, and the energy flies from her, the flash near-blinding, the roar of accompanying thunder ringing in her ears.

She sees it hit home, the first traces of foggy vapour swirling around Strahd's convulsing form, and a beautiful satisfaction fills her.

Then, she lets herself go.

An instant or an eternity later someone is shaking her into jarring and painful wakefulness, jostling her head against the rough floor. Her mouth is filled with the bitter aftertaste of a potion, and she grimaces as she feels the familiar residue on her lips and chin.

"Fine, fine, old man, relax, I'm up," she manages, slurring the words, struggling to blink her eyes open and into focus. "I'm awake. Stop it."

But it's not him.

It is Ireena, wide-eyed gaze somehow growing wider still at her words. The reason for this becomes abundantly and agonisingly clear as she points to somewhere behind Ezmerelda... to where Rudolph van Richten lies, very pale and very still, a greater and more profound calm upon him than she has ever witnessed.

"No."

She didn't even see him fall.

"Why didn't you help him?" Ezmerelda knocks the empty potion bottle away, and it clatters loudly against the stone, finally finding rest near a streak of dark ashes. "What are you waiting for, what--"

"I tried. It was... it's too late," Ireena whispers, "I'm sorry."

Ezmerelda feels shame flood her immediately at the misaimed anger. "No. No, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I'm sorry. I just-- wait." Awareness of just where they are and what they were in the middle of doing suddenly overwhelms her, and she feels panic crawl up her spine. "Is it over? Did you stake that bastard once and for all?"

Ireena nods, mouth curling in visible distaste. "I did, just like you said to. Your last hit - it was enough to force him to turn into mist, and then, when... when he reformed in the coffin, I did it."

The relief Ezmerelda feels at that is so bitter it burns. "I missed it, then," she murmurs, and feels ridiculous immediately afterwards. Ireena shakes her head, and helps her sit up.

She allows herself a few precious moments of rest against the cold, damp wall of the crypt, eyes painfully locked on van Richten's still, still form. As soon as she feels half-capable of moving, she all but drags herself to his side. Feeling for a pulse, a breath, anything at all to help her disbelieve what is plainly before her eyes.

She finds no such thing. He's dead, and it feels like a stake through her own heart. After all her efforts, after getting into Barovia just to get the damned foolish old man off his self-destructive warpath and out, only to lose him now, to fail right at the end...

A pale shimmer falls over the scene before her, like a curtain right before her eyes. Ezmerelda blinks and shakes her head, but can't make it go away. She reaches up, and--

Erasmus all but swoops down to be face to face with her.

It takes her a moment to properly grasp what she is seeing. Erasmus. Somehow still there, his ghostly form hovering over his father's body. Gesturing at her wildly, pointing down at something, and, finally, using his ectoplasmic paint to draw... a circle within a circle, hanging in mid-air.

She follows his wordless instructions to the best of her current ability and, with some painfully suppressed reluctance, looks down at van Richten. And there on his finger is a ring that was certainly not there before.

Erasmus seems insistent and quite unusually agitated, so Ezmerelda takes the ring, trying not to register the coldness of the hand it was on, and puts it on numbly, feeling utterly beyond thought.

Suddenly, cutting through the fog that seems to have descended upon her mind, bubbling up like an idea from her own consciousness, a thought - a voice. A familiar voice.

'Ezmerelda? Ah. I see. Well, that could have gone decidedly better.'

She feels tears welling up in her eyes, an unstoppable burning in her chest. She wants to laugh until she can't breathe, or sob her lungs raw.

Instead, she sits back against the cool stone wall. As the adrenaline wears off, she becomes more aware of the extent of her injuries: the sting where foul claws raked across her midsection and upwards; the burns of magical fire on her palms. She fishes out the last potion from her pocket, and downs it in one greedy gulp. The relief is near-instant.

Her faculties at least somewhat returned to her, she opts for a laugh as she recognises the ring for what it is. Ireena looks at her with some concern, but Ezmerelda waves it away.

"A ring of mind shielding. Protect the mind, and store the soul, should the worst happen. Of course you of all people would come so prepared."

Ezmerelda twists the ring on her finger, marvels at the detailed engraving.

"Should I... we could... there's ways. To get you back. I mean..."

She trails off, and there is a brief pause before the voice in her mind pipes up again. 'No. No, I think, at long last, it is time for me to stop. And rest.'

Even though her entire being wishes to rail against this, to insist on the need for Rudolph van Richten to exist, and protest the injustice (just when she'd gotten him back!), Ezmerelda manages, barely, a soft, "I understand."

'There is still some work to do before that, though, no? Loose ends for us to take care of before, well...'

That, she feels far more comfortable with. It almost comes as a relief. "Yes, of course. First order of business, we will sit down, and we will work out a plan. And we will stick to that plan."

There is a soft chuckle in her mind.

"What's so funny? You love plans."

She imagines, in better, happier days, the old man - only slightly less old - shaking his head at her with a long-suffering smile.

'Thank you for humoring me, is all I'll say. Now, go handle things here properly and finish up, while I think of a list of priorities for us. Miss Kolyana is waiting for you.'

1.2. A brief reflection on personal experience

Ezmerelda is pulled into a room, hand clamped over her mouth. The door slams shut, and she almost stumbles as she is suddenly released.

"What in all the realms are you doing here?" The colourful half-elf carnival master hisses at her in a voice decidedly unlike the one he was just using in the downstairs taproom. Now that they are close, she can see the magical disguise of the Great Rictavio is utterly impeccable, but the eyes... the eyes are unmistakable.

They are also flooded with the closest thing to panic Ezmerelda has ever seen in them.

"I'm here to help you. You don't stand a chance on your own."

"How did you find me?"

Ezmerelda shrugs noncommittally, and doesn't look behind him. "I have my ways."

He shakes his head. "That isn't good enough. If his agents - and there are many, I assure you! - catch even a whiff--"

She finally glances at the ghostly form of Erasmus, just barely visible over Rictavio's shoulder, unable to be perceived by the one man he wishes he could reach out to and reassure. He meets her eyes and holds his finger up to his lips.

"I recognised your horse," she says, at long last.

"Dear Drusilla? Oh..." Rictavio seems to almost deflate at that, though his nervous pacing doesn't slow.

Erasmus' visage shows what has to be gratitude, or relief, or both. Then he closes his eyes, seemingly tired, and the shimmering remnants of him disappear from view.

"Damned stubborn, foolish girl..." Rictavio moves deftly around the small room, securing the shutters on its single window, locking the door from the inside, gaze darting around wildly. Then he reaches up and removes his hat, and Rudolph van Richten, looking more old and more worn than Ezmerelda was perhaps ever prepared to see, stands in his place.

"I had a plan, you know," he sighs, tossing the hat onto the bed. "One that I can now no doubt forget about entirely."

"There's no time for your endless preparation and planning. Any waiting game we try to play is a losing one. There's a young woman who desperately needs our help, a legendary weapon to be found, and there's a monster to hunt, feeding on an entire land. I've been to the castle, scouted out--"

"You've done what?"

Ezmerelda doesn't look at him and chooses to pace a small circle around the room herself. "The castle. Ravenloft. Getting in was a breeze - getting out was the hard part." She suppresses a brief shudder at the memory of her invisibility spell running out and Strahd's eyes boring directly into hers, as if he'd known she was there all along. "But, well, I managed. And more importantly, I found a way into his crypt."

Van Richten sits down on the bed, rubbing circles into his forehead.

"Ezmerelda, you can't be here." His voice sounds pained, almost. "You know you are not safe near me. My curse--"

"Sincerely, fuck your curse," Ezmerelda spits. "After all these years, it can wait a few days before striking. Can't be worse than what will happen to both of us and anyone involved if we can't manage to work together on this. We have to. I tried, by myself, but..."

She tries not to dwell on the terribly brief confrontation, the bite of the cold, cold grasp that seemed to steal the very life out of her, and her rather desperate escape.

"Ezmerelda," van Richten starts again, then pauses, and just looks at her - a long, heavy look. "Why?"

"There are still people who care about your well-being," she replies simply and softly, "no matter what you may believe."

Then she straightens her shoulders and allows the steel back into her voice. "So listen to me. We are going to stake that devil in his lair, and we are going to get out of this cursed land. Together."

For once, he doesn't argue.

---

Their lord and master may be gone, but there are plenty of foul things still crawling around Castle Ravenloft - and occasionally crawling out of it as well.

How lucky for the Village of Barovia, then, to have a monster hunter visiting.

"...so I think that should do it for that particular area of the barracks," Ezmerelda flicks a stray bit of zombie gunk off of her bracer, then casts an apologetic look at Ireena. "But who knows what else he has buried under there."

Ireena Kolyana, the girl haunted, hunted, and tormented by the vampire, deciding she's had enough of running, turning on him and wielding a sword of pure sunlight against him. Poetic justice, if Ezmerelda fancied herself a poet.

Ireena Kolyana, looking exhausted in a very different way, now caught up in burgomaster duties, barely finding time in her overstuffed schedule to hear about the results of Ezmerelda's latest expedition to the castle.

"You know," Ezmerelda begins, eyeing the stacks of papers and growing chaos on the desk between them, "if you ever get really tired of this, and miss life on the road..." she nods towards the window, and the wagon just outside it. "I have room for one more. And could always use a deft hand with a sword."

Ireena smiles, but the sadness underpinning it is palpable. "I can't, not now at least. There is too much to take care of here. And without Ismark..." a shadow falls briefly over her face, then she visibly forces it back. "Some day, maybe. I would honestly love to."

Ezmerelda nods, then moves to stand up, and holds out a hand expectantly. "Come on, you have time for a walk. A minute to escort me out and say goodbye, at least."

Ireena chuckles quietly and shakes her head, but pushes away from the desk and takes the proffered arm.

The sunlight is bright, tempered only by a wisp of white cloud here and there. Ezmerelda feels a light pull on her arm as Ireena stops on the threshold of the house for just a fraction of a moment. The hesitation is brief, barely noticeable, but the pause as if needing to catch her breath and the subsequent dawning joy - pure, almost radiant by itself - as the sunlight hits her skin--

Ezmerelda realises she's staring, blinks, and makes herself look away.

Their stroll is indeed brief, and as soon as they turn the corner and reach the parked wagon, Ireena sighs and stands half-ready to hurry back to her office and her duties.

"Hey," Ezmerelda puts what she hopes is a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I know you can handle all of this. Never doubt that."

This wins her a sincere smile. "Thank you."

Knowing there's no more point in delaying, Ezmerelda pulls away, moves to arrange her things around the wagon and prepare to leave.

"The offer stands," she says as she climbs into the driver's seat. "Keep it in mind."

"Maybe next time," Ireena replies with another sad smile. But then she pauses for a moment, almost as if thinking something over. Then she darts in quickly, and kisses Ezmerelda's cheek.

"Don't stay away too long," she says, quietly, then draws away again. Ezmerelda nods her agreement, and takes up the reins of her conjured horses.

Ireena waves her goodbye, and stands, looking on, bathed in sunlight.

And then the road turns, and she disappears from Ezmerelda's view.

'Well.'

"Shut up." Ezmerelda can feel her face burning. "Absolutely no need to read into things."

'You know I mean no offense. I only want the best for you.'

"I am perfectly fine," Ezmerelda grumbles. "Besides, this is the last thing she needs right now."

'You don't know that. Ask her sometime, perhaps, to tell you herself. Too many people have assumed too much about that young lady, I think. Myself included.'

"Oh, what do you know..."

There is a distinct sensation of stinging grief, never quite healed, as the voice comes again. 'You seem to forget I was young once. In love once. More... than once. And though it never ended well, like few things in my life did, the only thing I have ever regretted was not acting sooner. And regret is...'

"... the enemy of progress. I know." Ezmerelda sighs, the old man's oft-repeated saying rattling around in her mind as she snaps the reins and takes them down the road westward. "Maybe next time."

1.3. Materials and methods, an overview

Her balance is off still, but the past few weeks have brought incredible improvement. She flicks her rapier upwards, then lunges - back, forth, back, forth, fully and properly bearing weight on her right side in the training yard for the first time in months. The new prosthetic is truly a work of art and a masterful display of craftsmanship. Ezmerelda feels almost giddy at the sensation of ducking and weaving under the wooden limbs of the training dummy, feinting deftly, ignoring the burn in her arm and shoulder. The maneuvers are not yet close to her peak speed and fluidity and elegance, not after the long, arduous recovery she is only now reaching the end of. But it is all so very, very promising.

It also brings to mind - because how could it not, when for the better part of the past half-year she has had more time to think, and remember, and reflect than in her entire life? - van Richten's drills. He was always far more of a theoretician than practitioner of swordfighting, but he was certainly no slouch with a blade. The precision and perfection of form he insisted on instilling in her initially seemed to clash with her more free, improvisational, off-the-cuff approach, but ended up blending with it to great effect in ways that occasionally surprised them both.

She goes through attack patterns he's drilled into her and realises she misses him, the cantankerous old man and all his frustrating ways, and suddenly finds herself fervently wishing she wasn't doing this alone. She spares a moment to imagine the amount of fussing over her he would likely have insisted on, with his overprotective bedside manner that she used to chafe and scoff at whenever one of their hunts went badly for her. She thinks of all the lovely, fleeting drawings Erasmus would have made for her.

Her next step is careless, thoughtless, distracted, and as a result only a little off. The lunge is misaimed, unbalanced, and her knee twists unpleasantly. For the briefest flash of a moment she could swear she can feel the teeth sinking in again, and the horrible tearing.

Ezmerelda winces, fingers clenched around the rapier's handle, knuckles white. Her teeth grit as the wave of pain subsides so very, very slowly, but doesn't quite go away. She remembers, belatedly, that she has an audience.

"Ah, almost there," she calls back to the artisan eagerly awaiting her feedback, voice forcefully kept steady, without turning to face them, and taps her rapier on the metal plating running up from the heel. "We'll need to make another slight adjustment to the ankle joint, I think. But this is definitely and by far the best one yet. Let me get some more practice first, and we can go over the details in the afternoon."

Ezmerelda doesn't wait to see if her words are acknowledged. She hefts the rapier back up.

---

Before she reaches the first crossroads west of Vallaki, she turns the wagon south and into the woods.

"I have some unfinished business of my own to settle first," Ezmerelda states very matter-of-factly, preempting any interrogation from the ring's general direction.

The wagon trail to the top of the hill is easier to navigate than ever, and the camp is abuzz with activity, as it usually is. But this time the feel of it all is a bit different.

Ezmerelda knows it well; the air of a caravan packing up to leave.

Arabelle sees her weaving through the horses, strolling towards the large central tent, and darts towards her immediately, then freezes not three feet away. Ezmerelda can tell plain as the new Barovian day that she is torn between looking dignified and throwing herself at her in a hug.

So she crouches down and opens her arms first, and is almost knocked over when Arabelle rushes in.

"I want to show you something I've been practicing," Arabelle whispers conspiratorially, "but you'll need to lend me a dagger."

Ezmerelda's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but she obliges the girl after only a moment's contemplation, still crouched down and one arm around her narrow shoulders.

The dagger is one of the smaller ones she usually keeps concealed, but even so it seems far too large in Arabelle's hands. Nevertheless, in a few surprisingly dextrous motions with only a couple of moments of hesitation, she seems to make it disappear - then produces it again as if out of thin air.

"Huh. Impressive. Did your uncle teach you that little trick?"

Arabelle nods, but her pride is palpable. "Papa was so mad! He says that both him and you are a bad influence and I am far too young to be handling blades."

"There's no such thing," Ezmerelda scoffs, but motions for her dagger back and tucks it away safely. "Where is your father? I wanted to speak with him."

"Luvash is busy," another voice cuts in cooly, and Arrigal steps out of the fading, scarce shadows, somehow slipping under her notice even with the bright streams of sunlight all around. "But you can speak with me."

Ezmerelda stands up slowly, and can see him sizing her up.

"Run along now, Arabelle," Arrigal says in a much warmer tone of voice, but without taking his eyes off Ezmerelda for even a moment.

Arabelle gives her one last look as she turns to leave, and Ezmerelda tries to give her a reassuring smile - but then she realises Arabelle doesn't seem concerned or reluctant or... anything at all. She seems supremely calm, and not seven years old at all.

Arrigal steps forward and, even as uncannily quiet as he always is, it startles her back into the moment. Then, he reaches out a hand.

Ezmerelda meets his gaze, steps forward, and takes it. The handshake is firm, and she smirks. "Looks like you backed the losing side, cousin."

The term of address rolls off her tongue with some bite of irony in it. Arrigal inclines his head in acknowledgement. "You can't say it wasn't a fairly sure bet. A matter of survival, of course. We do what we must to keep our people safe. But," and he draws a bit closer, as if letting her in on a secret. "I'm glad he didn't send me after you."

Ezmerelda nods, and decides she isn't in the mood for a debate. "You know, so am I. I would have hated having to kill you. Instead, here you are, in an excellent position for a little introspection, changing your ways... much better this way, isn't it?"

He shakes his head with a grin, and finally lets go of her hand. "You are a menace. But we follow the traditions, and you have a place here. Where are you going?"

"Borca," she says, and pointedly doesn't elaborate further.

Arrigal laughs. "Off to more of your grim business right away! Well, one has to admire your tenacity. You can stay, of course, and leave with us tomorrow. We will share the road at least part of the way."

So Ezmerelda stays, and exchanges news of recent caravan routes and planned Mist-traversal with Luvash. The fire roars to life as the sun sets. Tales are told, and she contributes some of her own.

"Regale us, cousin," Arrigal says, grinning wolf-sharp, arms open wide as if to encompass the entire camp, "with the story of the fall of the devil Strahd."

Arabelle is a delight, as always. The truce with Arrigal, if it can be called that, is uneasy, but holds. The ring is quiet.

Arabelle insists on riding with her in the morning ("You did fish her out of that lake... brought her back to us," Luvash grumbles. "I suppose there's no harm... I'll have none of that monster-hunting nonsense, though!"). Her delight at the summoned magical horses is palpable, even as she tries to hide it. Ezmerelda gives her the reins until they need to enter the Mists, and is only slightly surprised to see her managing well, with just a few pointers here and there.

The whole way, Arabelle demands stories of her and van Richten's exploits very matter-of-factly - interrogates, almost, at times. Her eyes are large, intent, focused, as Ezmerelda obliges, for hours.

"I knew you would win," Arabelle says at one point, breaking a rare longer stretch of silence between them. "Uncle didn't want to listen to me, but I knew."

Ezmerelda looks at her, matches her seriousness. "I hope he will learn to listen, one day soon."

1.4. Common pitfalls

Ezmerelda inches back to consciousness more than wakes, and hisses as she almost reflexively tries and fails to sit up. She recognises her own bed in the former guest room above the herbalist shop, but the details of how she got there are fuzzy at best, completely absent at worst. She is, however, very aware of a merciless pounding in her head and that she has most certainly just pulled some fresh stitches.

A swirl of colourful ectoplasm greets her when she next opens her eyes, Erasmus' fleeting but always lovely and cheerful greetings hovering above her.

Well. Ezmerelda forces a pained smile at him, knowing that if he is here, his father cannot be far, and--

Ah. Familiar footsteps on the stairs, and the distinct creak of the second one from the top, as Rudolph van Richten enters the room with uncanny timing.

He doesn't seem to be surprised to see her awake as he gives her a quick look-over, even as concern and frustration clearly war on his face.

"I thought we had reached an agreement," he begins at last, very deliberately calmly.

Ezmerelda doesn't reply.

"I thought," he continues with that same calm tone, "that we had made a plan. That was my distinct impression of our last conversation."

Ezmerelda clenches her teeth, then grinds out, "I couldn't just stand by and let that beast--"

"You could have voiced your disagreements with the plan and brought your concerns to me, instead of running off on your own in the middle of the night," van Richten is clearly struggling to keep his voice level. "You almost died."

"Fine, I am voicing my disagreements. We know it's a wereboar. Just go at it with our silvered weapons, set up an ambush where we found its lair... why wait? Why give it more chances to hurt people?"

"To be absolutely certain we have all the information. That we have looked at it from every angle, that we have not overlooked a crucial detail. Minimise its chances to hurt us."

"But by then it might have mauled half the village to death, or worse!"

Van Richten's gaze on her is sharp. "And if we get ourselves pointlessly killed, are the villagers any safer for our hasty, brash, ill-thought sacrifice?"

"Hasty, brash, and ill-thought. Fine, if that’s how it is, how you think of me," Ezmerelda throws her hands up, and wishes she could march off, slamming a door shut behind her for good measure, as childish as the thought makes her feel.

Van Richten sighs deeply, and pulls up a chair to sit next to her bed. Ezmerelda recognises it as one from downstairs, and feels a small stab of guilt at the thought of him setting up a vigil at her bedside.

"We can't go rushing in on half-checked information," van Richten begins, after a brief silence, looking down at his hands. "We can't, because... because I have done that, in the past. And people - good, brave, dedicated people who chose to stand against evil, people who trusted me - died as a result."

"I have been wrong," he continues, still not looking up. "I have followed faulty sources without the due diligence of thorough enough vetting. I have overlooked things, and I have lost many. I will not and cannot allow that to happen again. We have to be careful, patient, and vigilant, always."

"I'm not advocating for blindly rushing in," Ezmerelda protests, "I'm merely--"

"I won't have you on my soul as well. I have far too many already."

"And I won't have any more innocents on mine! We had all the relevant information two days ago. Four people could have been alive today if we had acted on time. We were right."

"And what about when you aren't, Ezmerelda? What about when you aren't?"

Ezmerelda looks him right in the eyes, steely. "Then I will make sure I am the one who pays the price for my own mistakes."

"Oh," van Richten smiles sadly, "If only that were possible."

---

The letter arrives just as she is preparing, to her great relief, to leave Port-à-Lucine for good. It is hand-delivered by an ostentatiously dressed man in a stylised fox mask, entirely - and Ezmerelda feels her lips curl in annoyance - unassuming and usual for the land of outrageous pretense that is Dementlieu. The way he seems to disappear in the moment it takes for her to glance down at what he has thrust into her hands is also something Ezmerelda finds hard to marvel at anymore.

Overjoyed to be able to return to the relative privacy and safety of her wagon, she tosses away her old harlequin mask in the sincere hopes of never having to put the damn thing on again. Then she throws herself on the bed and focuses on tearing into the sealed envelope, absorbing its mysterious contents.

After she reaches the end of the letter's brief text, she stays very still for a long while.

'Not a name I thought I would see again, if I am to be honest,' van Richten's voice comes slowly, sounding very wary.

Ezmerelda breathes out a frustrated sigh, an unidentifiable jumble of feelings warring in her chest and burning up her throat. She tries to reply several times, then stops, and closes her eyes. Collects herself, at least somewhat, and decides to focus on the practical. "How do we even know this isn't a forgery, or some sort of trap?"

'We don't. But it is a loose end I, for one, am not prepared to simply overlook.'

"She's tried before, but I never... I don't have time for this right now, I--," she throws the letter and the shredded envelope onto the chest at her bedside, and runs an annoyed hand through her hair, again, and again, and again. Thinking, or at least trying to.

'We have time. You and I both know it's not time that is the problem.'

They are nearing the end of their planned journey, finishing up their business with Alanik Ray and Arthur Sedgwick's latest investigations and bidding farewell to Dementlieu. And then it was supposed to be on to Mordent, to call in at the Mordentshire shop briefly, and afterwards to Darkon - to Rivalis, and the villages surrounding the old Richten estate. Some ghouls to fight off, wraiths to purge, ghosts to lay to rest, to help the villagers out, before... well. They'll come to that when they do.

Ezmerelda can't deny the detour would only be a brief one.

"A 'loose end'," she huffs. "Really."

'I am just trying to help you. Don't waste years of your life like I have, either bitter or wondering or fleeing. Confront your - our - past, at least this part. Lay it to rest, if you can.'

"The past does not lie behind us. It is part of what we are, and part of what we always will be," Ezmerelda recites, then sighs again. "Old Vistani saying."

A moment of silence. 'Make sure it is a good part, then.'

Ezmerelda's memory of her mother feels... not fuzzy, but perhaps a bit tweaked and twisted over the years, more by feelings overtaking it than by any fault of recall. The images of what she remembers and what now stands before her don't match, but have a strange, dissonant overlap, leaving visible in the centre a woman Ezmerelda could almost, almost imagine seeing in the mirror. One she hoped to never see again after that night of wordless parting, many years ago.

Years of imprisonment seem to have been surprisingly kind to Madame Irena Radanavich. She has wormed her way into some kind of favour with someone powerful here, no doubt, as has always been her utterly unscrupulous way. The cell is clearly a formality, more of an office than anything, a parlour for receiving agents and lackeys, as well as bosses. There is even a chair - a worn, old wooden frame with faded red upholstery - placed a little ways away from the bars, facing them. Ezmerelda also gets a distinct impression that the guard standing in the corner is not there for any visitor's safety or protection.

The woman in the cell seems to light up the moment she sets eyes on Ezmerelda strolling into the cell space with a pretense of casualness.

"My, how you've grown! My, and yet-- oh, darling," concern seems to flood her face and voice, and - there, a subtle, wry twist - Ezmerelda thinks she catches a false, even mocking undertone to it. A flash, and it’s gone, and perhaps she merely imagined it, or even wanted it to be there, an ache for some semblance of simplicity to box this woman in. "There's both more and less of you than last time I saw you."

"Really?" Ezmerelda scoffs, and almost wants to laugh. "All those tales I've heard of your vicious, clever, insidious scheming, and that's the best you can come up with?" She crosses her arms, and clicks her metal heel against the floor loudly. "Not an angle you can use against me, I'm afraid. Try again."

"You wound me!" A dramatic hand placed over her chest. "Treating your own mother like that, who has never had anything but your best interests at heart. Who you've never even come to visit."

Ezmerelda slips the opened letter through the bars, letting it land on the hewn stone on the other side. Then she moves to sit down on the solitary chair.

"I'm only here because I got your letter."

"Oh! Good. My dearest Ezmerelda, I was--"

"I am here to tell you I want you to leave me alone," Ezmerelda continues, acting as if she hasn't heard a word. "For good. Forget I exist, preferably. I want nothing to do with you, and I never will. And the only thing I might want to do with your plotting and scheming is foiling it, so it is in your best interest to leave me out of it all. And van Richten..."

The saccharine smile dips down, almost into a scowl. "And here I'd heard you'd finally seen sense and parted ways with that old fool."

"You hear much, I see," Ezmerelda replies, cooly.

"I have my ways. My sources. People loyal to me, who have yet to abandon me."

Ezmerelda feels the swipe like an airy almost-cut of a dagger that just barely misses. "Well, here's something new for you, then. Something your little web-weaving spiders seem to have missed. You'll be happy to hear he's dead."

"And right away you come back to me! Time to end your silly games, eh, Ezme? Good, good. A start--"

"You have no right to call me that," Ezmerelda cuts her off, rapidly losing her will to restrain herself.

"Come now, dear. That's no way to talk to your mother, your own flesh and blood. It's about time we set all this nonsense aside, don't you think? Your family--"

"You're no family of mine."

"Please," she scoffs loudly. "You sound like an angry child. And... oh, really, what kind of name is 'd'Avenir' even?"

"My name," Ezmerelda replies, perfectly matter-of-fact, and refuses to even entertain further discussion of the matter.

"I wonder how you'll do," Madame Radanavich smiles, but this time the threatening edge is obvious, pretense briefly abandoned, "all alone. Playing your little games of pretend with your make-believe name. You'll come crawling back to me yet."

Ezmerelda finds herself thinking of Erasmus, and almost believes she can see him, out of the corner of her eye. Tries not to think of what this confrontation might be bringing back for him. Thinks of the Martikovs welcoming her with open arms and offering shelter even in the darkest and dourest and most dangerous of days; thinks of Ireena with the sunsword and an entire wealth of feeling tangled in a tired, relieved smile somehow brighter than the blazing sunlight itself. Of nights around the fire in the camp outside Vallaki, and little Arabelle pulling on her coat, extorting promises of lessons in both swordfighting and divining. Of Arthur Sedgwick and his honest, caring eyes, and his patient instruction in properly using a flintlock, as his husband gleefully offers detailed scientific explanations of the weapon's workings from the side. She twists the ring on her finger.

"I'm not alone," Ezmerelda says simply, and feels resolute steel pouring back. She stops to consider her next words more carefully.

"I watched your actions and your curse destroy a good man's life. But I want you to know that you wanted to take from him, and in the end you took from me, the daughter you profess to care about so much. And now you crow at me about flesh and blood and expect me to, what? Beg you to let me come back? Back to what? A mouldy cell and as short a leash as the current master feels like giving you?"

"Bold words for one given to following an old wretch around like a sad pup, even as he keeps trying to kick you away," Radanavich sneers, then shifts back to sad pity in the blink of an eye. "Oh, yes, my dear, it's so very tragic... I've heard it all. Look at you - you're wasted on him."

"Oh?" Ezmerelda raises an eyebrow cooly, clamps down on the sting to her pride and the deliberate scrape against old wounds, and almost wanting to scream you are the reason he feared that daring to care about someone would be a death sentence for them. "And what would you prefer to be using me for?"

"How dare you! After all I've done for our family, while you throw your lot in with the man who killed your brother and imprisoned your mother!"

Ezmerelda feels suddenly tired, more than anything. "You know he did no such thing. And I've done very well for myself, despite you."

"Have you, now? What price have you paid for your... profession? What has it cost you already?"

"Nothing I wouldn't be ready to pay ten times over if it meant ensuring the safety of an innocent, or beating back those such as you. You still don't understand," Ezmerelda just smiles sadly, allowing only the slightest undercurrent of danger. "I'm neither lost, nor settling for anything, nor desperately grasping at a chance, nor tragically misguided. This is what I want. This-- this cause, this fight, this is exactly what I was meant to do. And I am very, very good at it."

"Oh, Ezmerelda, if excitement and adventure and glory is what you are after, I know of much that you could do! So many causes that your... talents... would be an excellent match for. You do have a certain reputation, and I know several highly influential actors who'd know exactly where to put your skills to use, no matter how they were acquired. You could do so well for yourself! Rise right to the top of the ranks in the blink of an eye, become truly great."

Ezmerelda shakes her head, and sighs, and moves to get up from the sad, solitary seat.

"Ezmerelda--"

She quickly turns towards the bars and leans in, baring her teeth and grinning widely. "I killed the devil Strahd," Ezmerelda smirks at the look of shock she gets in response. "I think your petty schemes are a little below me, don't you?"

She turns to leave, not waiting for a response. The guard leans back in his corner as she moves away from the bars, waving him off.

"Oh, do feel free to let your masters know," she tosses over her shoulder nonchalantly as she makes her way out. "Though I have to say I haven't really looked into whose lapdog you are nowadays."

Ezmerelda hears a frustrated growl behind her as the sickeningly sweet, pleasant mask falls for good. As the door slams shut behind her, she doesn't look back.

She lets the noise of the city drown out her thoughts as she slowly makes her way back to her wagon, more than ready to be on her way elsewhere. Until, after a while, a familiar voice comes swimming up through her mind.

'How do you feel?'

"I don't know," Ezmerelda murmurs, after a long silence. "Ask me tomorrow."

1.5. Notes on useful classification and categorisation

As she finishes rattling off the information she's gathered on a series of apparent annis hag encounters that van Richten asked her for, he looks-- well, 'impressed' is the only word Ezmerelda can think of to describe it.

In the ensuing moment of quiet, he takes off his spectacles, fidgets with them briefly, polishes off a smudge with his handkerchief. Then, he looks her right in the eye. "You, girl, are a veritable sponge."

Ezmerelda flashes him a smug smile, then remembers the other matter she wanted to bring to his attention. She clears her throat, and begins, with uncharacteristic hesitance. "I've also been looking into some... other things. Another way I can contribute, I think."

The only reply is a raised eyebrow, so Ezmerelda steels herself and decides to go forward with her planned demonstration. She quells the nervous fluttering in her stomach, and instead focuses on the points of her own fingers as they trace well-practiced patterns in the air. With a final flick and a quick mutter of the incantation she's quietly recited so, so many nights in her room when she was supposed to be asleep, the very air around her right hand shimmers with heat. A few tense moments later, a small mote of flame appears in her palm.

Ezmerelda bites back an exclamation of joy at the success, tries to keep her expression fairly neutral, and looks to van Richten expectantly.

His eyebrows are, very amusingly, trying to climb into his hairline. "Where in the world did you learn to do that?"

She lets the little flame dance between her hands, casually skip from one to the other, flickering giddily, and feels an odd sense of relief wash over her.

"I saw it in one of your books. Almost by accident, and it... it just made a lot of sense to me, even just skimming over it. So I thought, why not? If I could get a handle on a few of the spells, I could complement your arsenal quite well. Bring more to the fight."

Van Richten nods, but there is a wary undertone to his words. "As long as you aren't making any ill-advised deals and pacts - which, I'll remind you--"

"-- are all of them. I know. Don't worry. I'm only interested in things I can glean by myself."

"Well, I'm not much of an arcane practitioner, though I am quite familiar with a lot of theory. I'm afraid I won't be able to provide any elaborate training or instruction--"

"That's fine," Ezmerelda rushes to say. "I can continue like this. The research, the books - it's..."

She trails off, not quite knowing how and what to explain. Arcane magic is fascinating, surprisingly enjoyable, and strikes a deeply satisfying balance between being hard-won and feeling like it comes naturally to her.

It also feels... hers.

"It's very engaging material," she finishes after a little while. She moves to close her fist and extinguish the tiny fire, but something stops her at the very last moment.

"Indeed," van Richten replies simply, and gets up from his seat. "Well, I do need to go tend to the shop, but rest assured we will discuss the tactical applications of this later today."

Just as he is out the study door and about to start down the stairs, he pauses, and turns back to look at her, a bright and sincere smile on his face. "Very well done, Ezmerelda."

The flame flickers, ready to fly from her fingers, bursting with potential.

"Thank you," she murmurs long after he is gone.

---

It is deep nighttime when Ezmerelda shakes off the last tendrils of the Mists and sets eyes on the cliffs of Mordentshire. The wagon's wheels clatter over rain-slick cobblestones as she navigates the still-familiar streets of the seemingly unchanging harbour town. The cold sea wind makes her tighten her coat around herself, to very little avail.

She can't say she's missed the weather.

By the time she spies the sign neatly painted with the words Herbalist - Dr. Rudolph van Richten, she feels soaked through and entirely miserable, and spends only a moment giving the place a quick look-over.

The shop is in fine shape - if she didn't know better, Ezmerelda could easily believe its owner closed it up for the night and left just yesterday. The wolfsbane and garlic in the planters underneath each window are flourishing. She makes a mental note to make her first order of business in the morning calling in on the neighbors and discussing further arrangements with Mrs. Polk, in whose capable hands van Richten has been leaving things for years.

In the meantime, she fervently hopes for dry clothes and a workable fireplace.

A quick rummage between two bushy wolfsbane plants - the second and third one on the right - produces a spare key, and Ezmerelda remembers with mild amusement her shock at this mundane weakness in van Richten's usually impeccable and overthought defenses, years ago.

"Keys," he'd looked at her over the rim of his spectacles, "are hardly a problem for things that truly want to harm me."

The little bell chimes as she opens the door. Catching a glimpse of herself in the very precisely placed full-length mirror just opposite the entrance, she wastes no time before going upstairs. The second stair from the top creaks its old, familiar reassurance.

Ezmerelda enters the room that used to be hers, in between harrowing hunting trips and trying adventures, during her years training with van Richten. It doesn't seem to have changed much - nor does it seem to be in use as anything but spare storage space.

She does her best not to think about how empty and quiet the house is, or how she's never truly been alone in it. Instead, she hangs up her coat, rolls up her shirt sleeves, unpacks some of her things, and, by the time she gets a proper fire going, realises sleep is the very last thing she feels like doing. Her eyes alight on the small desk in the corner, and she instead decides to do something she hasn't in a while.

She sits down to write.

First, Ezmerelda takes off the ring and sets it aside, muttering a quick good night, Doctor under her breath. Then she takes out some of her collection, observations accumulated over the years - jotted down on everything from thick parchment to old wrapping paper. Combining it with the wealth of van Richten's remaining material and into something eventually coherent will no doubt be a challenge, but a challenge is not something Ezmerelda d'Avenir has ever shied away from.

It is just haphazard, quick notes on anything of consequence that comes to mind at first, carried by an odd nervous energy. A more systematic approach will have to come at some later point.

While knowledge is a key weapon in any hunter's arsenal, honing one's body as well as mind is absolutely necessary, she writes, tapping her foot on the wooden floor in a way that often drove van Richten to distraction. Many of the creatures of the night become, in their cursed states, inhumanly strong, and in such instances one must be particularly careful of engaging them in close quarters, for even the greatest strongman would be at a disadvantage.

However, not all of these encounters need be solved by violence. Many ghosts

She pauses, pen slowly dripping ink onto the half-filled page before her, and sees Erasmus out of the corner of her eye. She turns her head to face him, and for once in their long and unusual life-and-afterlife-spanning acquaintance, she finds she can't quite read him.

Many ghosts are held in their in-between existence due to unfinished business. Tethered to some regret or incomplete task from their mortal lives, they seek resolution and closure. Many hauntings can thus be resolved by investigation, and what I must term a primarily sympathetic approach. Of course, one must also always be wary and on the lookout for deliberately misguiding spectres who seek to play upon one's pity.

The first signs of dawn creep into the room by the time she has moved on from ghosts to wraiths to trying to sort out her notes about creatures that lurk underwater - old notes that have been, to her chagrin, very appropriately and unsalvageably waterlogged.

Ezmerelda manages to light another candle just before her current one sputters out, and rubs at her tired eyes. Then she pauses, gazing idly at the ink stains on her fingers.

She reaches over for a new page, setting her current work aside. There is something else she wants and needs to write, something other than dry facts or hopefully helpful guidelines. The first few sentences come in fits and starts, but soon enough she finds them flowing out of her pen almost of their own accord.

What I would like to make clear is that this is not an inherently bad place. The lands themselves can be beautiful - wondrous, even. Worth living in, and worth fighting for. And the people who live in them do not deserve to live in fear. I, and many others, could simply leave for some better, tamer prospects, yes - but then what? Nothing is gained if we merely surrender an entire world, a collection of lands so fantastically varied and so full of promise, to a cruel, merciless, hungry night. It can't all be abandoned as collateral damage in a great punishment intended for a horrible few. I can't, and won't, allow this to happen.

Maybe the foes are overwhelming, and the fight endless. But a life saved is a life saved. A victory is a victory. One innocent snatched away from a grim fate, one tendril of darkness beaten back - that is enough. But only if we persist at it, day after day after day. And evil may be impossible to ever completely destroy, but it is far weaker and less widespread than it could and doubtlessly wants to be, in at least some small part thanks to our continued efforts.

A dour prospect? Perhaps, for some. Ezmerelda smirks to herself, and gazes down at her veritable manifesto, and thinks back to that cell in Il Aluk.

What better life is there to lead? None, for her.

I, for one, don't intend to give up anytime soon. I hope that in you, dear reader, I can find one of like mind. And perhaps one day we shall find ourselves standing together.

She lights another candle, and continues.

1.6. Conclusions and remarks on future work

She clenches her hands as she steps into the sitting room that morning, decisions made after a long, sleepless night of contemplation. As if fate is conspiring against her, the first thing she sees is Erasmus, hovering over his father's shoulder. He turns to face her as soon as he notices her, a bright smile he saves just for her on his pale, ghostly face. She knows what a struggle it is for him to manifest this way, how much it takes out of him. The thought of his precious few minutes today being this...

It takes immense effort to speak up, interrupting van Richten's apparent focus on the post strewn about the table in front of him.

"I think... I think it's time for me to go."

"Go? Where?" He blinks, looking up from his papers.

Ezmerelda swallows, but hesitates only for a moment. "I don't know," she answers, chin tilted up, almost proud. "But I know we can't go on like this. I don't want to go on like this."

They butt heads and scrape against each other constantly. Chafe and grate and, and, and. She can't remember the last time they agreed on even the most cursory thing. It has reached a level where she fears his presence will become intolerable, and anything binding the two of them together become irreparably soured and tainted.

She refuses to allow this to happen.

Erasmus has drawn a coin. Two sides. He indulges in a small, semi-teasing pantomime, pointing at the two of them as his shimmering, ectoplasmic drawings hover briefly before vanishing like so much smoke, and Ezmerelda shakes her head sadly.

"I don't want to come to resent you, that is all. I don't think I could bear it if I did."

"If you think it for the best, by all means," van Richten says simply, and leaves it at that. He never turns to fully look at her. There is an undercurrent to his voice Ezmerelda can't quite place - something deeply tired, and far more complicated than plain sadness.

It rains heavily that morning as she sets off, as if the world itself wants her to rethink this. The muddy road squelches almost threateningly under her horse's hooves as she leads him forward.

Van Richten doesn't come out to see her off.

"I'll miss you," she breathes to herself, and half-hopes it somehow reaches both of the companions she is leaving behind. But she has only the rain and her horse's steady trot on the trail for company.

It is quiet.

---

Finally, the familiar mists of Darkon, and the countryside of Rivalis, lie before them. The inevitable, at a familiar estate fallen into quite a state of disrepair.

'No, leave it be,' van Richten said, at her hesitantly presented idea of including returning Richten House to at least some of its former glory on their list of unfinished business and loose ends.

Still, this is where he wanted to come. At the end.

Ezmerelda never saw it in its prime. She was a mere child then, kept well away from her family's machinations. Until she was (inevitably, irrevocably) drawn in, her fate forever entangled with that of the van Richten family. But even now, in all its disrepair, rich traces of what the gardens, the orchard, and the house itself used to be permeate the atmosphere, like ghosts themselves.

She walks across the hills of the grounds, all the way around the mansion to the family cemetery. She slows as she moves up to the two most recent graves, so easy to find, and thinks, briefly, of the body van Richten insisted on being burned before they left Barovia, just in case.

Just in case, she agreed, knowing all he knew about what foul magic and foul intentions could do to physical remains in the wrong hands, and built him a pyre.

The headstones before her are simple but elegant, as is the tidily engraved lettering on them.

Ingrid van Richten

Erasmus van Richten

'Well, here we are.' For a disembodied voice softly projecting into her mind, almost as through a mild haze or over some great distance, it is one of the heaviest things Ezmerelda has ever heard.

'A few words, if I may,' van Richten's request comes, gentle, and she nods, finding herself oddly wordless.

'I am so proud of you,' he begins, and the ferocity of it almost startles her. 'I hope you know this, always. If I have ever made you doubt this, as I pushed you away - I am sorry. I regret many things in my life, as one does, no matter what I like to say - but most of all I regret that I didn't tell you this sooner.

You are the best of my life. But more than that, you have grown far beyond me, into a finer person than most could dream of being. And I am sorry I wasn't there for you, that you had to do so much of it on your own. But know that when I see you... I couldn't be happier, or more in awe.'

There is a very brief pause, and then the voice softens again.

'I love you as my own, and am deeply honoured you would consider me, and that I get to consider you, family.'

Ezmerelda swallows once, twice, struggles, then finally lets her tears fall freely.

'Look at you. You don't need me anymore. And I can only hope your legend will far surpass anything I have ever done - there is so much ahead of you! Your light stands so very bright against the darkness. But I am glad, so very glad - selfishly, perhaps - that we were there together, at the end.'

"So am I," she manages a whisper. "Love you too, old man."

'Now I suppose it is time for me to go.'

Erasmus looks at her, bittersweet pouring from him in waves, and he gives a small nod. His form flickers, and then disappears, and Ezmerelda knows she will never see him again.

She knows how the ring works, too. The soul within it can choose to depart whenever it wants to. She knows she doesn't need to do anything - that she couldn't, even if she wanted to. It brings with it a strange sort of peace.

Ezmerelda inclines her head. "I hope you see them soon." Tell Erasmus I'll miss him, she wishes she could say.

She spins the now-inert ring around on her finger, a habit she will need to break. She wants to tear it off, and throw it as far away from herself as she can. She wants to never take it off as long as she lives.

A soft rain starts up, and Ezmerelda feels oddly grateful for the feel of it on her face, even as she knows there is no one here but her.

It is quiet.

---

With gratitude to the notes and tutelage of the esteemed Dr. Rudolph van Richten, whose guidance and wealth of knowledge have proved invaluable on countless occasions, and whose friendship changed the course of my life more than once.

#ezmerelda d'avenir #rudolph van richten #curse of strahd #dnd #dungeons and dragons #fanfiction #my fic #oathkeeper writes things #erasmus van richten #ravenloft #gonna take my horse to the old svalich road #tabletop

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fullmetalscullyy · 3 years

Note

Yes soft Royai!!!!

Can you write: and only one pillow, so A used B's chest or stomach

(I truly cannot even decide which version I like better slakdfjsdlk;f)

dsafsgd i loooooove that prompt tysm for sending it!! i hope you enjoy! <3

send me a prompt

rated: t | words: 2258 | tags: royai, there was only one bed, fluff, waking together, cuddling, royai banter

read on ao3

“Take the pillow.”

“No, it’s all right. I can use my jacket –”

“Take the pillow.”

“Sir, no, it’s okay –”

Riza watches as the Colonel sighs heavily, and she knows he’s resisting the urge to look heavenward or throw his arms up in the air in frustration. He wouldn’t need to if he’d stop being so stubborn and just take the damn pillow.

“You’re not sleeping on a jacket when there’s a perfectly good pillow right there.” He glares at her, but there is nothing malicious behind his eyes. Just a fire that equals her own.

“What are you going to use,” Riza counters accusingly, “because then you will be left with nothing to sleep on.”

He just huffs, having no answer for her. Silence ensues, descending upon the room as they glare at one another, neither backing down.

Riza’s shoulders slowly start to relax after a few moments, and she sighs.

The Colonel’s do the same and he averts his gaze momentarily before glancing back at her, a small smile on his face. The fire in his eyes is gone for now. “Truce?”

She rolls her eyes at him, but she still smiles at his antics.

“This is a ridiculous thing to be arguing about,” he chuckles.

“I know,” Riza relents.

“It would help if you weren’t so stubborn.” There’s a twinkle of mischief in his eye, letting her know he is just teasing her.

“The same can be said for you.”

He sticks his tongue out at her.

“We can share it,” the Colonel offers. “It’s…” His smile turns sheepish, and he looks uncertain of himself. “It’s not ideal, I know. And only of you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he adds quickly for reassurance. “I know it’s hardly appropriate for us to share.”

As if she’d ever be uncomfortable sharing a bed with him, but Riza still appreciates his thoughtfulness and the offer.

Always the gentleman.

“It would prevent further argument,” she muses.

“It would,” he agrees with a smirk.

“Then I think it’s worth going ahead with it, sir.”

“Of course,” he replies smoothly. “For team morale, we really should.”

Riza smirks at their banter and shakes her head fondly. She reaches into her bag and extracts the pyjamas she’d packed for their trip.

It’s not good professionally, however they don’t have much of a choice, aside from deciding which one of them would sleep on the bed and who would get the floor. They’d already argued about who would take a simple pillow, so that argument would end up being much longer and grander than their previous one.

The bed is small and is the only one in the room. The sheet looks thin and not very warm, and there is one, single pillow on the bed. The room is sparsely furnished, but that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Riza was hoping there would at least be a cushion from a chair they’d be able to use after they discovered their sleeping predicament, but the single chair was wooden and bare of any form of comfort. Much like the rest of the room.

This was the last time Riza would let the Colonel book their accommodation for a trip.

He walked into the bathroom of their hotel room to change. She doesn’t know why he felt the need to change in there but leaves him to it and doesn’t question it. They are both above and beyond that. If that’s what he wants or needs to do to try and keep some semblance of a barrier between them, then so be it. It’s understandable. They will already be sleeping in the same bed that night, so perhaps its an effort to try and salvage some professionalism before they willingly choose to careen wildly away from it.

It’s a tight squeeze in the bed, which Riza thinks Roy looks far too happy about.

“There’s not a lot of room, is there?” To emphasise his point, his head rolls and slips off the pillow and onto the mattress. He tuts to himself quietly.

Riza rolls her eyes. “Come here,” she insists. She places a hand on the back of his neck after he cranes it up to look at her and guides it over. She rests his head on her collarbone and Roy stills. She can hear him swallow and Riza has an inkling of what may be going through his mind.

They’d been close like this before for years, so she has no qualms with the current position of his head. It’s almost frightening how easy it is to give in, but Riza doesn’t dwell on it. She’s tired, they’re both adults, and they’ve already dived headfirst into impropriety. What is one more occurrence at this point, while he’s mostly curled up against her body as they share a bed?

“How thoughtful of you, Lieutenant.” He sounds surprised, all teasing and jokes gone from his tone.

“It’s only because I don’t want your head rolling backwards and smacking off the wall behind you in your sleep.”

He pouts.

“I don’t want to have to deal with you having a concussion.”

“Fair point. Oh, what a shame,” he sighs as he eagerly drapes his arm across her waist. He grips on tightly and it makes a warmth spread through Riza’s entire body. “I’ll just have to hold on tight to make sure I don’t hurt my head.” He makes it sound like it’s a hardship, but the glee in his expression tells another story. “If there’s only one pillow then I’ll just have to use you instead, Lieutenant.”

He’s definitely far too happy about their predicament. Riza is tempted to narrow her eyes at him because he’d booked the accommodation. He’d handled it all. She wondered if somehow he’d managed to do this on purpose.

Riza really wouldn’t put it passed him.

“Now, no funny business through the night, Miss Hawkeye,” he adds as he burrows into her. His head finds a comfortable position in the crook of her neck. His breath tickles the skin on show and heats it considerably. Roy shuffles closer so he’s pressed up against her side and hooks his leg across both of hers. He clings onto her like a spider monkey, as if he would fall off the bed if he didn’t, despite being against the wall and there being zero risk of that happening.

Riza is really starting to think he did this on purpose.

She snorts. “Well, you certainly don’t need to worry about that,” she assures him wholeheartedly.

“Ouch,” he laughs.

Not that she’d complain, really, because this feels incredibly wonderful, and her heart is doing summersaults inside her chest. While Roy’s joy was obvious on his face, hers is present too, she’s just better at hiding it. She always has been.

“Go to sleep, Roy,” she commands lightly. Her stomach flips at the thought they’re falling asleep against one another and takes a moment longer to relish in how he’s holding her and how close they are.

“Goodnight, Riza,” he murmurs quietly.

A smile slowly spreads across her face as she feels him press a kiss to the bare skin beneath her collarbone.

When Riza wakes in the morning she’s on her side looking out into the hotel room. Roy’s arm is tight around her waist, and she’s been drawn into his chest. His head rests almost atop hers, but the weight is not crushing or uncomfortable. He certainly didn’t need to lie almost on top of her – the pillow was not that small in size – but they’re even closer now than they had been before falling asleep and a thrill flies through Riza at the thought.

His other hand has snaked underneath her neck so she’s almost lying on his bicep. Both of their hands are joined atop the pillow in front of her face, fingers entwined tightly together.

Even in sleep they’d instinctively found each other.

It’s the best night sleep Riza’s had in a long time.

“Good morning,” he hums against her. He’s been awake for a while, she thinks, simply enjoying holding her. Really enjoying it. Riza can tell without asking him.

“I thought you said no funny business,” Riza remarks tiredly, but she doesn’t particularly mind. Not when this is the most comfortable and at peace she’s felt in a long time.

Behind her, Roy hums quietly in her ear but doesn’t answer. He simply buries his face deeper into the crook of her neck and presses a kiss against her skin. “I don’t recall promising no funny business.”

That’s a good point, Riza thinks, he did only direct his playful comment towards her, however the thought soon disappears because Roy continues to press kisses against her throat, making her sigh instead. He moves slowly down to her shoulder, taking his time to pepper her skin with as many kisses as possible. The arm that had been wrapped tightly around her waist moves away and while she mourns the security and comfort of his hold, she gets to revel in how his palm comes to rest upon her shoulder. He doesn’t grip on, his touch is gentle and comfortable, and he uses it to steady himself as he leans forward to kiss her cheek.

Riza rolls over and can’t help but smile up at him. On one side of his head his hair is sticking up in every direction. There’s a silly, happy smile on his face, making him look years younger than he is, and Riza finds it’s a look she could get used to – Roy, smiling down at her in the morning after they wake up together.

It will never come to pass but experiencing it just this once is enough for Riza. It’s a moment she knows she will cherish for the rest of her life.

“Only having one pillow ended up working out for the best,” he quipped.

Riza lifted an eyebrow at him. “I’m not sure I approve. I was lead to believe this is wildly inappropriate for us, sir.”

She notes how he swallows after she uses his honorific. The look in his eye changes, a new emotion flashing through him. “I don’t care,” Roy murmurs as he leans down. His lips brush against hers, making Riza’s eyes flutter closed. He pulls away too quickly for Riza though, and she lifts her hand to the back of his head, drawing him back for a longer, lingering kiss. She can feel him smiling against her lips.

“I thought you were opposed to this, that it was wildly inappropriate?” He’s teasing her, stealing another kiss.

“Roy?”

Riza pulls away abruptly and he blinks at her, mild concern on his face as he waits for her to continue.

“Shut up.”

He breaks out into a grin and snorts loudly. “Duly noted.”

“Plus, you started this,” she accuses lightly, “I’m simply finishing it.”

“Oh?” Roy pulls away this time, and Riza didn’t think it was possible, but his grin is even wider as excitement overtakes his features. “I’m not sure I did. I think we’re both guilty of it, but do tell how you intend to finish this, Miss Hawkeye?” He can barely contain his delight.

“Stop talking and maybe you’ll find out.”

He actually pretends to zip his mouth closed and throw away the key. Riza can’t stop the laugh that bubbles inside her chest and escapes. It makes him smile and he wraps his arms around her tightly as she cups his face, pulling him back down onto the bed to join her.

After they break apart from a rather passionate embrace, Roy gazes down at her. His eyes roam across her face and Riza watches as they do so, content to look at him. One of his hands lifts to brush a stray hair from her cheek and he tucks it tenderly behind her ear. His fingers trace a line from her scalp to her chin as his expression softens, and so does his smile.

“I would do anything for you, my love.”

The sentiment is unexpected. It catches Riza off guard, but not unpleasantly. It causes her love for him to suddenly surge within her chest. It’s always present, every day, but their night together has caused a resurgence in feelings she has learned to bury in her day-to-day life. Despite how dangerous they are, she lets herself feel them. She embraces it because she wants to. Because she needs to every now and again. With the way he’s currently looking at her, with so much affection and adoration, there’s no way Riza can resist anyway. It makes her impulsive and she gently tugs him back down to her, pausing when there are only centimetres between them. Just enough space so she can still look into his eyes.

“I love you,” she breathes.

His head tips forward so his forehead comes to rest against hers. “You are my life,” he replies, almost overwhelming her. Tears creep into her eyelids, but do not fall. “I love you with my whole heart, Riza Hawkeye, and I have done so for years.”

She laughs, almost choking on the emotions brewing pleasantly within her. She cracks a smile, stroking the skin of his cheek lovingly with her thumb. He turns his head, pressing a kiss against the inside of her wrist.

“As have I. That will never change.”

Her words light up his entire face, painting his features with pure elation.

Only having one pillow really did end up working out for the best.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai oneshot #emma writes #ask #klainelynch #fic request #hhhh sorry this took so long to get to but hopefully the fluff makes up for it :')#apologies for any mistakes #miles adrift inches away #there was only one bed

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