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dailytatsu · 3 years

Note

Hello! I love your writing and I recently saw a post of yours about the reader being the God Of Chaos and I was wondering if you could make a part two with characters of your choice, if it’s not that much of a trouble! Remember to drink water and rest well <3

Tysm! I’m really happy to see that a lot of you enjoyed it, and being honest, chaos reader now have a special place in my heart lol

Then let’s write a second part! Hope everyone likes these as well! ( ✌︎'. ')✌︎

Thanks for the request!✨

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[II - HC] God of Chaos! Reader & Genshin Characters

Characters: Bennett, Tartaglia, Scaramouche, Ganyu, Chongyun

Gn! Reader

Sorry for any mistakes!

Request are open!

Genshin Masterlist

<- First part

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BENNETT

First of all, how dare u

This boy already has a chaotic life for you to arrive and making it worse.

But being honest, it wasn’t intentional, just like always.

Besides he’s a kid. The chaos of a kid + chaos of his bad luck, I mean- how were you not supposed to meet him?

That day was really strange, for the very first time the chaos wasn’t attracted by you, but you were attracted to chaos. Like a moth following a lantern on the street, something that you felt like you had to do, some kind of childish curiosity that guide your way to find Bennett in the middle of his adventure.

Poor boy was charging his pyro attack to max until a barrel exploded near him, he flew in the air waiting for a rough landing before his trajectory sent him where you were standing, still looking for the origin of that uneasy sensation of curiosity.

Luckily for him you could see his shadow just in time to react. You looked up because of the strange silhouette on the ground next to you and there he was, surrounded by a cloud of smoke and fire, with his screams getting louder and louder as he falls.

You trapped him in your arms, with the situation turning even more strange when the first thing he said was “nice catch!” with the bright smile of his.

Like if his hair on fire wasn’t a big deal.

It’s raining men ig

Before you could ask anything, a crowd of angry hilichurls appeared from the same direction where Bennett came at first.

The white haired boy jumped off from your arms and tried to grasp your hand to run away together, but instead you pulled him near and then behind you before rising your hand to the front, pointing the stampede of furious creatures about to reach you both.

Not even a leaf fell from a tree before the hilichurls stopped, all of them felt your presence immediately, the primitive sensation of danger that meant a silent threat. Following the message that another camp of them told long ago, ‘get away from that stranger’.

Bennett was surprised, kind of scared at least. He wasn’t sure about how to call that feeling.

Are you a beast tamer?! Maybe an adventurer that discovered a secret about hilichurl’s behavior! Wait- where are you going? Don’t leave him behind, the doubt won’t let him sleep tonight!

You explained to him that it was dangerous for both to be near each other (more dangerous for him than for you), still you needed to get away. To protect Bennett and the other adventurers that were exploring nearby.

But why? He was so excited about meeting someone who could react that fast and precise! Like the heroes in the legends!

Please show him your ways, he’s begging you, how can you be rude to Bennett? That literally illegal.

When he heard that there was a God of Chaos exploring all over Teyvat like an errant he connected two points (even if there wasn’t a single thing to connect in first place).

You’re like him!

Hello ?? You’re literally ?? the most qualified to be part of Benny’s Adventure Team ??

Negative plus negative is positive, isn’t it? Maybe if you roam near Bennett his bad luck can collide with your chaos to neutralize each other!

You told him that you were leaving after that short conversation, but in reality you just hide from his sights and followed him from behind.

That kid really put you on your nerves, running into danger without knowing. Was that what Zhongli have to deal with every time you visit Liyue?

The old man really deserves an apology.

You’re not doing this an habit, of course not! You’re the all mighty God of Chaos, the ultimate troublemaker! How was even possible to think about wanting to protect a human just because he has bad luck? That’s ridic-

“Watch out!” You had to abandoned your hiding spot to reach Bennett again, pulling him away from the place where a bunch of hunter’s traps were. “Barbatos, why all your children have to be like this?…” You whispered for yourself, actually waiting for a answer, maybe a little too much because you didn’t free Bennett. His feet were just barely touching the ground.

“Oh, it’s you! Hello again!”

Enough of babysitting, that’s it, both of you are heading back to Mondstadt. This boy is a danger for himself, who allowed him to be an adventurer in first place?

After abandoned him in front of the city’s bridge you turn back to the forest, believing that it was the end, even if in the process your chaos took the life of some pigeons nearby.

Next morning you were sleeping peacefully on the branches of a huge old tree, feeling the wind of your bard friend greeting you from the distance.

Then a storm started out of nowhere; your fault.

And almost immediately you heard a cheerful voice below you, calling your name like a lost child searching for their parents.

As Bennett climbs the tree to talk with you a lightning strikes near enough to make both of you jump because of the surprise, falling from the branch and meeting each other on the mud below.

“Sorry, my bad.” Bennett and you said at the same time, to later laugh because of that.

It seems that both are more alike than you would expect

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TARTAGLIA

How do I explain that this guy already knew about you-

As you may suspect, yes, his only reason of wanting to meet you was to fight you.

The first step for taking the thrones of gods is beating one of the youngest, isn’t it? It would be a good start, and you’d be also one of the best opponents he ever fought! The only thing still needed was a way to make you accept his challenge.

Tartaglia’s first try was by attacking you without hesitation, not even a warning, just shooting an arrow for behind and waiting for you to counter. And yes, that didn’t go as planned, the rope of his bow snapped even before aiming.

It wouldn’t be that easy, the distance is always boring for a fight, why not just attacking directly?

Because you learned from Morax that you must not hurt mortals; the reason of your trip was for appreciate the human’s life, to understand why you exist, to have a reason to not end with everything that crosses your path.

To convince yourself that you’re not only destruction.

But it was hard to stay calm if he constantly provokes you to fight back. Always dodging, always running away, always breaking his weapons.

Barely holding yourself to not to break his Vision at this point.

Dodging one of his attacks again you ended up on top of a nearby structure by the side of the road, watching him from above and begging for him to stop for once.

Tartaglia clicked his tongue in annoyance, you would escape again. He was as sick as you of that senseless hunt. Maybe was the stress what impede him to think wisely, because his next strategy was like a death wish.

The water blades disappeared from his hands and, for the first time, he had a casual talk with you. Smiling and waving his hands to look relaxed.

Then he mentioned the incident with Osial, a event that almost became a tragedy. And the only reason you knew about that was because Morax told you about it, about his contract and the reason why he left his position as an Archon the next time you visited him.

It was your fault, isn’t it?

“… what?”

"As you heard! The conditions for summoning Osial was ideal, bringing back a sealed god filled with hatred and hungry for destruction couldn't have been possible if you hadn't been around Liyue that day.” His hand lifted to pointing at you, also smiling as your expression turned into a concerned one. “Oh, our God of Chaos, you were successfully satiated as the catastrophe filled the ocean! Bring us back the destruction, because it's the only thing you ever knew!”

He was obviously just mocking you, but still Tartaglia managed to actually make you think about it.

Your fault. Your chaos.

And even with that, Rex Lapis didn’t seal you or tried to eradicated you like the burden that you are for every nation.

It’s just a matter of time before you destroy all humane existence when you get bored of your fantasy of not being a spirit of chaos.

An infinity of negative and dark thoughts began to fill your mind.

It was sad, it was so sad that the erosion already began to have an effect on you being so young. You were afraid, you were concerned, the stress ate you inside while you tried to convince yourself that it wasn’t like he said.

Your mind collapsed, and you left the wrath take the control for the first time in centuries.

A fight? That’s all he wanted? Easy, that’s easy, just kill him and everything will end. His annoying voice won’t torment you ever again, his words won’t hurt ever again.

It’s easy, so easy. Mortal life is so easy to end.

He’ll defeat the gods, he’ll take their thrones and will witness the world’s end in the final battle he planned since his first encounter with the traveler.

But that day Tartaglia noticed the difference between your strength, it wasn’t huge, neither significant enough. But you were stronger, and it’s well known that wrath and despair can provide extra energy when it’s needed.

The perception of time disappeared, the world did too. Nature, men creation, everything will succumb against chaos, existence itself will be reduce to ashes.

That’s why you exist, to make sure there’s not too much heroes trying to make the nations a boring place. You just need to accept it!

But…

‘There’s no other way?’

The question sparkle inside your mind, bringing you back out of nowhere. There’s a lot of irregularities in the ground nearby, the land was broke for something that impacted with an inhuman strength, even the structure where you step on top was gone, just the remain of a building was left.

And your hands were holding something bland and soft, the warm sensation on your palms and the strange movements caught your attention to look down. Your hands were strangling Tartaglia.

From the other side his hands were trying to remove yours, his strength was minimal, not even able of closing his fingers around your wrist.

A expression full of pain and regretting of his decisions, question by question filling his mind while the air became harder to get.

A broken bow, his Vision has been thrown away. Now it was a human versus a god.

You took a step back, afraid of what you were about to do. You have to stay calm and quiet forever? To prevent catastrophe, to bring peace to mortals? Who’s the one you have to blame for creating you? How you could think that coexisting with humans was possible? Even if you say that you don’t want to make any problems you would stay near them.

“Just… leave me alone.”

Was the last thing you said, a whisper that wanted to apologize for a whole eternity, a regret that couldn’t be forgot. And then you left that place, escaping one last time.

But wait for him, Tartaglia thought, he didn’t need your compassion.

Sooner or later he would have his revenge.

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SCARAMOUCHE

Finally! With Shogun Raiden’s gnosis on his possession and the all mighty hero of Mondstadt weakened there’s no way things can go wrong for him!

A little delay in his plans, but still a smile remained on his face. Kunikuzushi couldn’t wish for anything else right now.

But you already know what is going to happen next.

In this world exist Murphy’s Law?, because anything that could go wrong went wrong after he claim for victory. Even being far away of the factory it seemed that the karma reached him immediately.

He just got his guard down for a couple seconds, and then, whoshh. Now you see it, now you don’t. The gnosis disappeared from his pocket, not here, not there. The annoyance filled his chest and then a irritated growl came from his throat.

What in the world happened?

Scaramouche looked to a huge tree in front of him, and there you were. On your favorite place to sit, above from everyone else in a branch. Holding the gnosis as the board piece it looks like, playing throwing it up a little and then catching it again and again.

Who you think you are to act that carefree on his presence? If you wanted to die so bad then you could just have asked for it.

Even if he called you and made a question first you counter it with another one, what was he doing with that thing?

You were sick of those who defy the gods thanks to his ‘workmate’.

Scaramouche ordered you to give him the gnosis back, threats and insults came out from his mouth as a distraction; in reality, he was just ready to set the first hit from behind.

But something made him stop just in time when you talked again.

“I don’t care what you are planning, but if it involves the ones who I’m in debt with, you will surely fail.”

“Another clairvoyant? Hah, your type are more words than an actual subject matter, but I have to admit it, they’re also very skill to escape.”

“It was a warning.” You said, throwing again the gnosis, this time to his direction.

Scaramouche reacted in time to rise his arms but in midair something caught the chess-like piece before his fingers. Surprising him again and making the irritation event more unbearable.

It was a tanuki. The same that looked behind a second before running even deeper in the forest.

The chaos isn’t necessary a huge disaster; a little accident, an inconvenient, a failure, it depends time and place to be considered like a catastrophe.

Scaramouche had a killer gaze just for you in his face, in respond you smiled at him, then covered your mouth with both hands to fake surprise.

“What a shame! Better luck next time, gods defier.” Your laugh could be heard all over the woods, like a spectral echo that chased him his way to get back the gnosis.

He got it back after a few minutes of a stressful walk through the forest, found the tanuki dancing on a stone before disappearing again. When he got closer he found that piece, making sure it was the real one and not just another trick.

The following days he received endless reports of Fatui soldiers and entire camps being reduced to rubble aside lost or destroyed materials; it was a higher level sabotage done by who they said was someone of relatively young appearance in strange clothes, the one that enjoyed staring at them until something goes wrong.

Nobody could defeat them, not even get closer. And with that, Scaramouche knew they were talking about you.

Was that what you meant with “warning”? Who are you exactly? Not even holding a Vision, how could you… ?

A quick order was enough to deliver him a book full of ancient legends, part of the Fatui private collection. Texts that were lost and the world had forgotten, his only hope was that you weren't exactly mortal, and if that was the case they could take advantage of your nature.

Hah, he found you.

God of Chaos, a body sculptured by the blood and bodies of the ones who died in middle of the wars. At first they were just a being full of anger and affinity for taking the life of every living being on earth, until the same hand that created them gave them a human heart of their own. Made without any prior basis, without being the remains of the deceased. Something one of a kind, the mortal heart of a god.

When human emotions filled the vessel they were released into the world, to mourn over the spilled blood and to know how everything of their existence originates. Born from the red that stained the fields and being the bud that seemed withered, the same that now has the deepest roots ever found.

Hmm, that brings back some memories…

But hey, that vital energy could be useful.

Don’t be surprised if one day you wake up chained and feeling dizzy as Scaramouche drains your life. You know what? Just wait for it! Running away as you did with that idiot won’t work this time.

Every possibility can be foreseen, every inconvenience can be solved. And if you think that you’re an exception then you’re stupider than you look.

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GANYU

Bold of you assume that Zhongli didn’t introduce you to everyone the first time you travel to Liyue.

The difference between your meeting was that it had to be really short. Ganyu is always busy so you couldn’t know her better before her duty called for her again.

Obviously you heard a lot of stories of her childhood thanks to Cloud Retainer. The day she knew about it Ganyu avoided you, next week she apologized with you about it. It was very rude, please pardon her.

Such a big sister vibes ngl

An Adeptus working that hard to human’s matters. It was so cool to follow her from a significant distance to see how was her routine.

If you could only live that peacefully near humans without causing any problem! What a dream! The envy was killing you.

Ganyu didn’t mind about you stalking her, the feeling of a companion was always present and she also knew that you had to keep some distance from everybody to not cause any accident. She appreciated your consideration.

Until a soldier from the millelith arrested you for harassment, wait- you’re innocent! Don’t get closer, hold on! Hold on!

The handcuffs broke almost immediately, though.

When Ganyu resolved the misunderstanding she hold your hands to apologize again, it had to be really stressful to be aware of any chaos you could create accidentally.

What if you… wait for her on the surroundings of the city?

Please, she have a lot of work, don’t interrupt her, she’s begging you.

Ganyu thought you heard her request, but she knew that you were just hiding when a window opened out of nowhere and a lot of documents flew away in the room.

You appeared hanging upside down from the other side of the window, jumped down and entered to pick up the documents. You hand her over all the pages and then you leave through the space on the wall.

“… I’ll be in Huaguang Stone Forest… ”

“Thank you.”

Even though you both agreed that you would return to the stone forest, she couldn't help but feel guilty as the hours passed, did you feel like a nuisance? Maybe she should apologize. Again.

When another successful day at work ended, she realized that repeating the same words over and over was not the best way to show her regret. That’s why a better idea formed in his head as she approached the abode of the rest of Adeptus.

Ganyu found you being scolded by Mountain Shaper for unintentionally releasing the trespassing intruders along with other creatures from their amber prisons.

After rescuing you again, she was able to propose her idea to you. With a calm and charming voice she asked you if you would like to learn about Liyue's traditions from the human perspective.

Sure, Zhongli could tell you about the beginning of traditions and festivities, but the way to celebrate them and pay tribute to the Adeptus was something that only a person who had lived among mortals for years could explain to you.

Your eyes shone in gratitude but no words really came out of your lips, kind of embarrassed you said some nonsensical things and then another amber cracked when you brushed its surface.

Mountain Shaper kicked you out without thinking twice.

But hey! The next day your classes on Culture from the Mortal Perspective began! A quick but calm walk through Liyue that got spread when a bunch of kids recognized you.

How could they not remember the person who plays with them every time they get a chance?

Ganyu sat by the side of the road on an empty bench, watching you scamper the children who seemed happy at your mere presence. Like the occasional accidents of a child, the curious and outlandish nature cannot be controlled, only accepted.

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CHONGYUN

Don’t move! The future best exorcist in the world, Chongyun, will put an end to your legacy of misdeeds and pranks! No evil specter that causes bad luck will survive to-!

Just by lightly tapping with your fingertips you were able to break the seal of the talismans that surrounded you out of nowhere. Pushing back the boy who was convinced that he had beaten his yang.

how dare u interrupt him.

Another of Xingqiu’s pranks? Isn’t this going a little to far? He hadn’t learn about not believing everything his friend says smh.

Let’s just mess with him a little.

‘Measure your words, human. In the presence of the God of Chaos, the first thought that should run through your mortal instinct is to beg for your life, since those who dare to defy them will be punished and displayed as a trophy in the infinity of the abyss from which the catastrophe came out.’

You took a few steps closer to him, while Chongyun kept backing away. The scene was so dramatic that you had to stop when the boy summoned his sword.

Haha jk, nice to meet u.

It's nice to know that there are still such dedicated exorcists out there.

But wait-, so you're not an evil spirit? A God? Why is there a god causing accidents all over Liyue!? That makes no sense! If you think you can deceive him by pretending to be a deity then he shall punish you severely for disrespecting them!

After a detailed explanation of your identity, Chongyun's mood plummeted again due to another failure as an exorcist.

He sat silently on a rock and remained silent, his expression showed so well his disappointed that it made you feel like it was your fault.

Ohno, a sad human child, your weakness-

At the end you sat next to him to listen to what he had to say.

Did he really want to see a spirit so badly? Those things are horrible, wearing strange clothes and yelling all the time, buagh! The thought of it gives you chills. But there's nothing you can do, after all they are drawn to your chaos.

When you finished talking so indifferently about what you lived through from day to day, you looked back at Chongyun, finding his expressive eyes filled with astonishment and disbelief.

Are you a magnet of evil? Chaos and destruction? Demons and spirits alike appear wherever you go?

Then you stopped him, it wasn't something to take so lightly; there’s also the chaos of the butterfly effect, natural disasters, unforeseen events, influencing the mood of evil people, losing your favorite pair of socks-

But you attract spirits, right!? You have to help him! How can you say ‘no’ to that face?

The next day he took you to one of his commissions as an exorcist, a house that had numerous reports from its previous tenants. He stayed outside and asked you to come in first, obviously you refused, if your chaos broke something inside you would have more problems besides the ghosts of the house.

He insisted a little more, it worked. Now you were waiting to feel the presence of some spirit trying to attack you. You could feel it, their energy was spread throughout the building, but still there was no movement. Neither hostility, neither terror, just the presence of a soul.

When it was Chongyun's turn to enter you explained this to him, his yang was also easy to perceive, you could describe it as a blizzard in the middle of the storm. But despite this, that presence didn’t react to his energy, nothing changed.

Then you understand it, your energies neutralized each other. Your chaos and his yang ended in a stalemate that went nowhere.

“I was really hoping to see an actual spirit and not only stay still in the middle of the entrance… “

“Well, I can still curse you. Want to try?” Chongyun crossed his arms, annoyed for your jokes.

“Maybe I should exorcize you instead… ”

“Ohh, so the little exorcist wants a deity to be his personal dummy? Let’s make a pact then. Promise me your soul.”

“I-I thought you said you weren’t actually a demon!”

When you stroked his hair he couldn't help but think about how much he still had to learn, so much so that even the gods were taking pity on him.

313 notes · View notes

minor-solemnity · 3 years

Note

hi i love your work and am excited for your series. i was wondering if you can do a one shot where the reader comforts tom and let’s him fall asleep on her while she plays with her hair 😩 soft tom 😈

Yesssss! Soft Tom - I cannot resist! This may have gotten away from me a bit so I hope you enjoy 2.6k of fluffy comfort!

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @crumpets-are-better-with-jam

What Equates to Worship

The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

It’s late when you get home. There is a Very Important Case being tried in the Wizengamot and your boss, Gerald Montague, is running you ragged in an attempt to get the edge on the prosecution. It’s a nasty case, the defendant, Mr Vickers, is on trial for the kidnapping and murders of five women. His chances aren’t looking good - there is enough physical evidence to bury him and his alibi is flimsy at best. In private, both you and Montague are convinced of his guilt but that doesn’t matter when it’s your job to convince the Wizengamot and a jury of his innocence. Needless to say, it’s not been an easy couple of weeks.

Your shoes click against the uneven cobblestones as you make your way down the narrow road to your flat situated just off the main drag of Knockturn Alley. It’s not the best part of town, but the flat itself is double the size of what you would be able to afford if you lived somewhere more reputable. Besides, it’s not as though you’ve ever been scared by the less savoury parts of humanity and society - you’d be awful at your job if that were the case. You throw a couple of sickles to the hag that operates outside your building, and she promises you glory in the afterlife in thanks. “If you could promise me glory when I’m alive, I think I’d find that more useful,” You say as you fumble with your keys.

She laughs, “That will cost you more than a few sickles, love, try again tomorrow.” You chuckle and shrug a shoulder. It was worth try at least. The gas lamps that lead the way up the winding stairs to your attic flat are already lit, casting a dim, flicking light across the stairwell. You frown slightly as you make your way up the stairs; no one usually lights the lamps, leaving it up to you to light them when you return from the Ministry every day. Your curiosity is further piqued when you reach your front door and find it glowing a dim red, indicating that someone has broken through the wards. You have an idea of who it is, but you take your wand out just in case you’re mistaken. You have a few files from the Very Important Case hidden in the depths of your bedroom, which in the wrong hands, would be disastrous for you and Montague.

The inside of your flat is dark and cold and looks just as you’d left it this morning. With a sigh, you flick your wand at the fire and smile as flames begin to flicker and burn. Your flat is relatively spacious, but the fireplace is enchanted to spread the warmth further than a normal fire would and with any luck you’ll be toasty and warm within a few minutes. You shrug out of your travelling robes and kick off your heels, rubbing your aching feet with relish. Next on your list of things to do is figure out who has broken into your flat and if it's something you should be concerned about.

You pad through the flat, your stockinged feet making no noise against the polished wooden floorboards. The door to your bedroom is open and you roll your eyes when you peer inside and find the source of your broken wards slumped in the armchair next to your bed. Tom’s best robes are in a heap at the foot of the bed, his smartest brogues are kicked into the furthest corner of the room, his hair - usually so neat - is in disarray. He looks like the world’s most harangued man. “Good evening, my love,” You murmur as you make your way over to his side, kneeling on the floor so that you can take hold of his hands which are resting loosely in his lap. “You broke my wards again.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat which is honestly pitiful and you are struck by a burning desire to make whoever put him in such a state pay for their crimes. Tom should never look so downtrodden - it doesn’t suit him in the slightest. You rub soft circles against his palms, smoothing the tension out of his fingers with careful strokes as the quiet of your flat weaves a gentle spell of calm and soothing around the two of you. “Is it a good evening?” He mutters and when you look up at his face, you can see the hard lines of annoyance and defeat marring his forehead.

“Hmm, don’t frown, darling - you’ll ruin your pretty face.” This at least gets a small hum of amusement out of him which you count as a win. Heaven knows that when Tom gets in these moods it can take a lot more than gentle touches and murmured sweet-nothings to get him to smile. You rise from your position and move behind the armchair, resting your cheek on the crown on his head and your hands on his shoulders to kneed at his knotted muscles. “I assume that you didn’t get the job?”

You’ve been so busy with your own work that you’d forgotten that Tom’s interview with Dumbledore was today. If you had remembered you would have taken the day off because even the most optimistic person would have known there was a fool’s chance of Tom getting the Defence job. Despite everything though, Tom is an optimist. You would never have guessed it when you first got to know him, but underneath his taciturn facade is a terribly hopeful young man who still believes that things will turn out in his favour. His idealism is part of what you love about him if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s a good contrast to your cynical realism.

It’s ridiculous, of course. Tom, despite his young age, is the most qualified person you can think of for the position. He knows more about Defensive magic than anyone save for maybe Dumbledore himself, and beyond that, he has the right temperament for it. It comes as a surprise to most people who meet him that Tom would be a good teacher, but he really is. His love of Hogwarts, defensive magic, and his desire to impart that knowledge all adds up to someone who sees struggling students and wants them to succeed. If it had been anyone other than Dumbledore, he would have been a shoo-in for the role.

“You assume correctly.” His voice is still tight and muted with resigned anger, but he begins to loosen under your hands, his head lolling to the side and coming to rest against your forearm.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

Tom sighs and the sound is world-weary and destitute. At that moment, your hatred for Dumbledore intensifies. “He never intended on giving me a chance. He invited me in and lectured me about dark magic. He essentially said that as long as he was Headmaster I would not be welcome in the castle.” The worst thing is that Tom sounds so forlorn. Unlike you, who had decided after a year at Hogwarts that the only thing you wanted to do was leave, Tom’s fondness for the school is unparalleled. “Knowing him, that won’t be for another hundred years or so.”

“I’m so sorry, Tom,” You say, dropping a kiss into the dark curls of his hair. “He’s an old coot. Still so struck by the mythology of his own genius that he can’t see past his own prejudices.” He hums lowly in response and eventually, you feel him start to relax. It’s gratifying to know that it’s you over anyone else, that he comes to when he needs support. You know his friends and followers would do anything to gain his favour, but at the end of the day, he doesn’t seek them out. No, he doesn’t trust them to see him like this, to see him in his more human moments of vulnerability. He trusts you to understand him and comfort him. That in itself is a gift.

“Now, come on. We can worry about Dumbledore later, but right now, let me find us something to eat.” Food, in your opinion, can go a long way to right a lot of wrongs and you have a sneaking suspicion that Tom probably hasn’t eaten all day. He’s annoying like that, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care about silly little things like eating and taking care of oneself. You can’t help but chuckle softly as he mumbles something under his breath and reaches for your hands to hold you in place. “Later, my love. I promise,” You say and disentangles yourself from his grasp.

Tom follows you out of the bedroom and watches you with a look of exasperated amusement as you search your kitchen. Your cupboards are sinfully bare when you go to inspect them, the rush of the last two weeks has meant that you’ve neglected a lot of your more basic chores. “And you accuse me of neglecting my needs. You hardly set a good example, my dear.” He murmurs from where he’s lounging against the stove. You roll your eyes as you shove your feet back into your heels and head for the door.

“Veeraswamy?” You ask and have to hide your smile when Tom’s eyes light up. It’s not often that the two of you treat yourselves to restaurant-quality food as neither of your jobs’ salaries really allow the indulgence, however, tonight, you think an exception is called for. “Feel free to look over the files I brought home - maybe you’ll notice something I missed.” You don’t even finish your sentence before Tom is digging through your work bag and pulling out the offending files. Typical, you think fondly. Tom is as curious as a cat and one of the easiest ways of making him feel better about anything is to introduce him to a puzzle.

Fifteen minutes later you apparate home with a brown paper bag of Veeraswamy’s finest selection of curries and sweet treats. As a rule, they’re dine-in only, as many of the restaurants in muggle London are, however, you’re not above a confundus charm to get what you want and you always make sure to tip splendidly to offset any guilt you feel for taking advantage. When you get in, Tom has the case files splayed out on the small kitchen table and you spare yourself a moment to admire the elegant curve of his neck and the way his curls fall in graceful arcs across his brow. Without looking up, he makes a space for you to drop the bag of goodies on the table and you collect plates and the bottle of wine that is the only thing you already had in your flat.

You discuss the Very Important Case over dinner and he indulges in your complaints about Montague’s refusal to even consider your line of defence. “Vickers says that he went to a Seer and was told that these women would die by his hand. I want to make the case that he can’t be fully held accountable for the murders if it’s already foretold.” Never mind that that isn’t how prophecies or fortune work, no one in the Wizengamot understands the intricacies of Divination well enough to know that just because something is said, doesn’t mean it will come to pass. “Montague is convinced that we can prove his innocence without resorting to asking for lesser charges.”

“And he’ll lose the case because of it.” He hums, sets his fork down and reaches for your hand, his long fingers looping around your wrist. “Have you considered the fact that Vickers may have been compromised? The file says that when he was found, Vickers was abnormally placid and made no attempts to hide the evidence that would have been easily disposed of? Maybe hire a mind-healer and see if he’s been the victim of an imperius curse,” He says nonchalantly as though he hasn’t just dropped the biggest break in the case in your lap.

“Tom. Tom, you are a genius. How did you even begin to come to that conclusion?” He must hear the wonder in your voice because a small, self-satisfied smile curves his upper lip and he leans over the table to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

“These things are obvious if you know what you’re looking for.” The knowing in his voice hints at something darker and your eyes narrow slightly. Tom’s proclivity for the dark arts is no secret, neither is his cunning and ruthlessness. You don’t ask and he doesn’t tell, but you suppose it’s probably a good thing that you’re training to become a defence lawyer. Maybe one day he’ll need one.

Tonight is not the night for those kinds of thoughts though. You doubt any night will be - if ever there comes a day when you have to reckon with Tom’s less savoury pursuits, you already know where your allegiances lie. With a soft hum of acknowledgement, you stand and lead him to the bedroom. “Enough maudlin talk for tonight, I think,” You say as you settle against the headboard and motion for him to join you. “You must be tired after today.”

Even though he tries to hide it, you can see that the day has worn on him. Shadows form like ink stains underneath his eyes, and he holds himself with a kind of forlorn regret that fills you with a feeling of sympathetic sorrow. He crawls up the bed and raises an eyebrow when you don’t move to make room for him. Instead, you simply lift an arm and smile, sleepiness and tenderness mingling into something soft in your eyes. After a few second of internal debate where Tom looks from you to the spot you’ve made for him, he gingerly lowers himself against you, his head resting in the hollow where your shoulder meets your neck. He lies unnaturally still and tense in the way a feral kitten might react to the kindness of a stranger.

Honestly, it’s more than a little heartbreaking. Slowly - carefully - you rest one hand over his heart and begin to card your other through his hair. You’re not entirely sure how he manages it - you’ve never seen a haircare potion in his vicinity - but Tom has the softest hair of anyone you’ve met. It’s dreadfully unfair, really. You rub gentle circles against his scalp and smile softly in the dim light as you feel him relax against you, the long hard lines of his body soften as you continue your gentle ministrations. Gradually, you sense him ease into a contented state as he seeks clemency from the day in your touch.

That you can do this for him, that you can be this for him is not something you would have ever thought possible. You remember vividly the uptight rigidity with which he had held himself throughout your time at school. The fervent dedication he had channelled to reach the top of the pecking order, never allowing himself a moment of softness or reprieve. You’re certain that if he’s not careful he will burn himself out before he’s had a chance to truly shine, and you know just how brightly he could if given the chance.

You brush his hair from his eyes and lazily draw abstract patterns against his chest, feeling the way his breathing deepens as sleep overtakes him. In this moment of calm, sleepy repose, you feel your heart expand with all love and care you think you might ever feel, and you brush a soft kiss to the crown of his head, revelling in the almost breathy sigh that escapes him. “You’re far too good to me,” He mumbles, half asleep and entirely too sincere.

“Agree to disagree, my love. I am exactly as good to you as you deserve.” He chuckles at this, nestling deeper into your side and flinging an arm across your waist. “Now, sleep - we have so much time for everything else.”

AN: Also before anyone accuses me of anachronisms, Veeraswamy is London’s oldest Indian restaurant. It was opened in 1926 and I’ve been there once before - the food was so so so good and it was disgustingly expensive. I’m assuming that it wasn’t that pricey in the 40’s

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagines #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfic #tom riddle fic #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #minific #asks #request #prompt fill #prompt fic #harry potter #harry james potter

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after-avenging-hours · 4 years

Text

Heart Skip [15]: Steve x Reader

Series Summary: A soulmate AU where from the moment you are born, two partners share a heartbeat. They race in times of joy, slow in times of sadness, and they skip at the same moment.

Word Count: 2617

Warnings: None

Heart Skip / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14

Gif Credit

The splattering of water droplets against tile is the only sound that fills the empty space of the bathroom. Steve’s broad frame nearly fills the small shower stall. He stands unmoving, shoulders tensed, one hand pressed to the tile as his head hangs low. He’s so lost to his thoughts; he doesn’t even hear you approach.

You place a tentative touch to the center of his back, stepping behind him. He inhales sharply, snapping out of it. He glances at you from over his shoulder before pushing off the wall and turning around. He sees the concern in your eyes and pulls you in close.

“I’m okay,” he tries to assure you.

You press your cheek to his chest, the water droplets pressing into your skin and sliding down your neck. “No, you’re not.”

He holds you tighter, resting his head against the top of yours. You wrap your arms around him and mold your body to his. You both need this. To feel as much skin to skin contact as possible. Not to incite anything sexual, but because both of you need the reassurance. Need to know that, at least physically, you were both still okay. You had come far too close to losing each other.

Steve fingers ghost up and down the length of your spine, feeling the reflection of your heartbeat against his chest. Slowly some of the tension in his body begins to ease. Not everything, but at least it’s a start.

“I should have gone back for him,” he whispers just above the sound of the shower.

“Steve…” You squeeze your arms around him. “There’s no way you could have known. And even if you had… There was no time. You had to stop Schmidt.” You lift your head from his chest to look into his gaze. “None of that is your fault.”

His eyes are sad as he looks back. “It feels like it is.”

You lift a hand to cradle the back of his neck, pulling his head down until your foreheads touch. You both stay like that until the water begins to turn cold. You reach around him to shut off the water before leading him out of the shower. You both towel off together.

“What can I do to help with the mission?” you ask. You’re so sick of feeling useless, you’ll do just about anything.

Steve meets your gaze for a moment, thinking it over. “Well, I can’t exactly walk into SHIELD headquarters stark naked, now can I?” His lips quirk into a small grin.

You raise a curious brow. “What did you have in mind?”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” you grumble quietly, pulling the uniform taught over Steve’s torso.

He grins down at you in amusement. “If you’re gonna fight a war, you gotta wear a uniform.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re damn lucky I created this based on your actual measurements. It’s supposed to be hanging off a mannequin, not going into battle. This suit isn’t going to protect you like your other one.” Your fingers fiddle with the straps going down his front, making sure they’re at matching lengths leading to his utility belt.

“I know. I’ll be careful.”

You release a low sigh when there’s not much else you can mess with. “I guess it’s a good thing I don’t work there anymore either. I’d totally be fired for this. I may have been the one to make it, but it’s still stealing from the government.”

“We’re not stealing it. Only borrowing,” he grins crookedly.

You raise an unamused brow. “Borrowing without asking is still stealing.”

“If it means that much to you, we can give it back when I’m done.” He chuckles.

You shake your head and attempt to suppress a smile. “Just shut up and kiss me already.” You tug at his uniform to pull him into a kiss. His gloved hands move up to cup your cheeks as he kisses you long and slow.

“Cap, we gotta go,” you hear Sam from the other room.

You both pull back with equal sighs of disappointment. “Duty calls,” Steve mutters, eyes flickering over your face.

“Good luck, soldier. Stay safe.” Your hands give his uniform one last squeeze before you pull back.

He nods once. “You too.” He steps forward for one last quick kiss. “I love you,” he breathes against your lips before moving back.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, turning away as he begins to head for the door. You don’t have it in you to watch him leave.

You move to the pile of clothing that Steve set aside after changing into the uniform. You reach for the jacket he had been wearing during the fight against Bucky. It’s dusty and smells like gunmetal and smoke, but it’s still warm. You find yourself slipping it on over your shoulders trying to draw comfort and strength from it.

“Are you ready?”

You turn to find Fury standing in the doorway. “For what?” you ask in confusion.

He lifts his good arm, a set of car keys dangling from his hand. “You’re my ride.”

You follow him outside to the nondescript van Maria had been using. You scramble into the driver’s seat as Furry climbs into the back where he’ll be hidden from view. He gives you a set of directions to a private airfield nearby where he has a helicopter waiting.

You follow his directions, trying to take back roads and avoid popular areas to stay off SHIELD’s radar. You’re not even sure how much time has passed by the time you make it to the airfield. Based on your accelerated heartrate, you can tell that Steve has already gotten himself in a world of trouble. Your hands tighten around the steering wheel as you do everything you can to stay calm.

“So, what now?” you ask after parking on the runway near a black helicopter.

“Now?” Furry responds, before you hear the back door to the van slide open. “Now, you stay here where it’s safe until we get back.” He exits from the van and slides the door shut behind him.

“Wha-” Your jaw drops and then you quickly scramble out the door. “Hey, that’s not fair! I’m here to help!”

Fury releases a long sigh and looks at you with zero amusement. “You want to talk to me about what’s not fair? What’s not fair is getting hunted and nearly killed by the very agents that I trained. What’s not fair is having the agency that I have dedicated my entire life to stripped apart in a single day. What’s. Not. Fair. Is having to send your boyfriend to destroy the one thing that was going to be my legacy of protection for the world. So, yeah… you can throw your tantrum and cry all you want, but that won’t change the fact that the best place for you is here. Out of the way, where you can’t get hurt, and where you won’t jeopardize the mission.”

All you can do is stare, mouth agape as he walks away from you and heads for the chopper. The rotor blades soon begin to spin and once the wind picks up, you’re forced to retreat back inside the van. You slam the door shut like a sulking child and watch as the helicopter lifts into the air and disappears out of site.

You sigh loudly and drop your forehead down against the steering wheel. With nothing but silence engulfing you, your thoughts are left to run rampant in your mind. No matter what you did, Fury would only ever see you as Steve’s weakness. The chink in Captain America’s armor. A nuisance. Something to be pushed aside, or locked away for safe keeping.

And maybe he was right. You would have been captured by those Hydra agents if Maria hadn’t come for you when she did. Fury had actually told her to prioritize finding you first, because you were a greater risk to lose to Hydra, than Steve. You couldn’t even manage to stay out of their crosshairs for a single day. What in the world did you expect to be able to do against an entire building and three Helicarriers full of those people?

“Stupid,” you berate yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as they begin to sting. You try to fight off the tears, knowing that if Steve can sense your distress, he’ll become distracted. Yet another thing to add to the list of why you’re his weakness.

Your breath catches when you feel a jolt in your chest. And not a good one. Your eyes snap open and the blood drains from your face. Something is wrong.

Your heartbeat sputters and struggles to keep going, despite the lag that seems to be on the other end. Steve is hurt. Bad.

And you’re all the way out here.

You lift your head back up and find your hand moving to the keys in the ignition. Gritting your teeth, you push your despair to the side and steel your resolve. “Screw this.”

Turning the ignition, you bring the van back to life and make a U-turn on the run way. You’re not entirely certain how to get back, with all the random turns and loops Fury had you take in order to get to the air field. Now that you think about it, the crazy route probably had more to do with confusing your own sense of direction, so you wouldn’t be able to get back on your own, and less about the defensive maneuvers to keep Hydra off your tail.

With a determined huff, you pick a direction and drive, letting your instincts and your connection to Steve guide you. After traveling a few aimless miles, you manage to catch a freeway entrance. From there, the rising smoke in the distance is the only confirmation you need to know you’re heading in the right direction.

You watch in the distance as the last helicarrier left in the air slams into the side of the Triskellion. Your stomach flips upon the impact and you just know that Steve is still on that ship. You pull over abruptly on the side of the freeway and jump out of the van. Your knees slam into the pavement as you bend over and expel what little food you’d had earlier that morning.

Rising back up onto shaky legs, you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand and stumble around the van. You walk off the freeway and into the copse of trees that line the bank of the river. You lean your weight against the trunk of a tree as you get a front row seat to the horror show before you. The last hellicarrier is steadily losing altitude as the other two burn in a fiery heap of rubble upon what’s left of the Triskellion.

You watch as pieces of debris fall from the belly of the flying ship, and mixed in the middle is a body clad in a red, white, and blue uniform. When his body hits the water, your vision swims and your knees give out once again. You are certain that these are going to be your final moments in this world, when a second body falls out of the ship and dives straight into the river.

Your heartbeat slows and it becomes the only sound you can hear, ringing in your ears. Time seems to come to a standstill.

Then, suddenly, two heads pop back up to the surface.

You release an audible gasp, finding the strength to get back on your feet. You stumble like a newborn fawn, tripping over tree roots and rocks as you make your way down the river bank.

“Steve!” you don’t even feel the water against your legs as you rush forward to help the man dressed in black carry him to shore. The man releases his metal grasp from the strap on Steve’s shoulders, setting him down on the muddy river bank. “Steve!” you call out to him, a choked sob leaving you as you take in the cuts all over his face and the wound on his torso.

A weak cough escapes him and a dribble of water leaks from his open mouth. You whimper in relief when he continues breathing. Your fingers brush against his jaw, tears spilling over and running down your cheeks.

The man in black shifts his weight and begins to step back.

“Wait!” you lift your gaze to meet his. “W-where are you going?”

He stares back at you blankly. “I don’t know.” His voice comes out broken and raw. He turns away and takes a few more steps.

You quickly scramble to your feet. “Bucky!” The man pauses once again, his posture stiffening. “You are Bucky, aren’t you?” you question carefully.

He keeps his back toward you for a long moment, before turning his head just slightly. “I don’t know,” he repeats, this time with anguish in his voice.

Your heart breaks for him. “There’s a van pulled off the side of the freeway, just a short way up. The keys are still in the ignition,” you tell him. “And here,” you quickly shrug out of Steve’s jacket that you’ve still been wearing. You hold the garment out to him. “To cover up your arm.”

Bucky looks down at the metal appendage and frowns before slowly turning toward you and taking the jacket with that same hand. He hesitates for another second, before lifting his gaze to yours once more. “Thank you,” he says the words strangely, like he’s grown unused to the phrase.

“Thank you for saving him,” you respond, glancing briefly back at where Steve lays.

Bucky nods once, stiffly, before turning and disappearing into the brush.

You release a shaky breath and crumple down once more at Steve’s side. The wound at his stomach is continuing to bleed and you know that if you don’t get help for him soon, you will both probably die anyway.

You reach for the commlink in his ear and pull it out. You hope that the thing is water proof, but it’s the only way you’ll be able to contact anyone else. You tuck the device into your own ear. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

All you can hear for a moment is static, before that cuts out and you hear a voice. “Y/N, is that you?”

You sigh and drop your shoulders in relief. “Nat! I’m with Steve. We’re on the west side of the river. He’s hurt. I think he’s been shot.”

“Keep pressure on the wound. We’re coming to you.”

“O-okay.” Your hands shake as you place them over the blood-soaked patch on his uniform. He groans in pain as you apply pressure to the spot, but continues to remain unconscious. “Don’t you die on me, Soldier,” you try to say firmly, but your voice breaks.

It feels like hours have passed by the time you hear the beat of a helicopter. Looking up, you recognize Fury’s copter as it flies above you and lowers onto the freeway. Nat and Sam burst through the trees moments later.

Sam kneels down on the other side of Steve, opening a first aid kit to begin triaging the wound. Nat gently grabs your shoulders and pulls you back. “Hey, you did good,” she encourages, pulling you to your feet.

“Is he going to be okay?” you ask.

“An ambulance is already on the way.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the blood covering your hands. “Oh God…” you barely manage to get out, before the world fades to black.

Part 16

#steve x reader #steve soulmate au #hearbeat soulmate au #captain america x reader #sam writes #steve rogers x reader

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lesetoilesfous · 3 years

Note

Are you taking prompts with the Florence + The Machine prompt list? ;v; If yes, can I request "She’s just like the weather, can’t hold her together" for Hawke x Isabela? Thank you!

This made me so happy and was such a gorgeous prompt for them, I really really hope you like it!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: F!HawkeBela

Characters: Marian Hawke, Isabela

Tags: brief reference to infanticide and making children tranquil, fuck the chantry, mage hawke, hurt/comfort, established relationship, I just really like writing boats in storms, do you like character’s eyes glowing whilst they lose control of their powers because they’re overwhelmed by emotion and Only Their Loved One can get through to them?, this fic is for you

Rating: Mature

Isabela had joked once to her first mate that if she ever fell in love with anyone it would be with a strong gale blowing in a south-westerly direction. She had never thought she would mean it literally. But now, struggling to stand on her ship as it kicks and bucks harder than any deep road Bronto, boots slipping against the deck wet with lashing rain, Isabela can’t even find the good sense to regret it. Around them, waves roar as living mountains, crashing down in blue-grey cliffs of granite that howl as they fall and send The Harpy tossing on the water like an unhappy Orlesian princess on a mattress full of peas.

Isabela ignores this, and the shouts of her crew as they swing over the side of the deck, barely held onto the ship in the storm by the lifelines they’ve tethered to the mast. Templar bodies go swinging over the sides of the boat like shooting stars or diving bells, crushing what crew Isabela has left against the rigging before flying off into the night like so much crumpled silver ribbon. Isabela opens her mouth, trying to shout over the storm. “HAWKE!”

Hawke doesn’t respond. Her always-blue eyes are blinding now, washed bright with light and magic. Her body is crackling with electricity and the tempest spirals around her, exploding outward in a strange suspension of rain and wind before crescendoing into the maelstrom above them. Around her feet are three dead bodies in apprentice robes. The oldest cannot be fourteen. Their bodies are still on the one patch of dry deck left on the ship.

A wave slams into the Harpy will all the force of an avalanche, and Isabela’s feet go flying, sending her tumbling into the wheelhouse hard enough to bend her ribs close to breaking. She swears, and slips a dagger from her belt, cloth-wrapped hilt damp as bloody bandages. “Sorry, pet.” She mutters to the deck as it rises to meet her almost vertically, like a cliff face, and the Harpy’s keel tries desperately to keep her anchored in the water against the force of the shoving waves like a bird tugged off its perch by a particularly strong wind. With a wordless shout of effort, Isabela slams her dagger into the deck, and uses it to help her start scaling her ship as she moves back toward her lover. Hawke herself is blind and raging, lost to her magic, the dead apprentices and their injured bodies as still around her as lambs in a dream.

Thunder cracks the sky open and lets lightning through, and where it spears into the ocean the water flashes from ink black to teal, illuminating like a witch’s cauldron and skittering with sparks that dance over the frothing waves. Isabela thinks she can hear someone screaming. Cannons come rolling toward her with a sound like groaning millstones, and Isabela kicks away from the deck in time to swing her body over the iron, cursing as she watches them hit and splinter the far railing before sinking into the belly of the sea.

Water is running down Isabela’s back and chest, icy fingers digging into every wrinkle and crease of her body that she’d almost forgotten she had. Her hair is heavy and damp as wet kelp on her shoulders, and her knuckles are aching. The Harpy crashes back down into the waves with an explosion of white foam like shattered glass, and above them the mainsail swells with the wind, wrenching the Harpy forward and up the next blue mountain of water that dwarfs her the way a giant would a child. Isabela gets onto her feet and sprints, chest aching with the effort.

Hawke is surrounded by a vortex of magic, and as Isabela breaks through it the lightning skitters across her arms, singeing her clothes and hair. She pushes through, fighting the water and the howling gale until, abruptly, she is in the eye of the storm. It’s silent.

Isabela stumbles to a stop and hesitates, transfixed as she stares at her lover, black hair lifting on a wind Isabela cannot feel here, so close to the centre of the tempest. Light jumps across her skin and down her body. Her clothes are dry but there is water on her nose and cheeks and chin. She is frozen like some strange Tevene statue, reduced to nothing but spitting magic. Around them on the deck, which is pale as sand next to the rain-dark wood beyond them, the apprentices lie as quiet as the sleeping children they should have been. Their hair is shaved roughly, and their foreheads are blistered with burns. Their bodies are littered with bruises.

Isabela holds her breath as she steps over them, and lifts a hand over Marian’s cheek. When she speaks, it’s in a whisper. “Hawke.”

Marian doesn’t move. Isabela catches her breath, and looks up at the whirling vortex of black clouds above them. She clenches her teeth, and touches her lover’s skin. The effect is like getting hit by lightning, a burning punch up the inside of her arm that she can feel in her bones. Isabela grits her teeth, and brings her other hand up to clasp Marian’s face in her hands, pressing forward to push their foreheads together as she kisses her cold, still lips.

Ignoring the pain of the magic racing through her skin, Isabela steps closer, winding her arms around Marian’s chest and pressing her face into her shoulder. The ship and the storm and her screaming crew may as well have been an ocean away. Here it is dry, and quiet, and still.

Isabela holds Hawke as tightly as she can, and shuts her eyes. “It’s alright. I’m here. I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry. I’m here.”

Isabela doesn’t know when the storm stops, or how they make it out alive. She keeps her eyes shut, and her arms around the stiff, tense line of Marian’s chest until her lover slumps like a puppet with its strings cut, and collapses around her, weeping. Isabela doesn’t move away, she just holds her tighter, running her hand through the unruly mess of Marian’s black hair as she presses kisses to every part of her she can reach. “It’s alright. It’s alright, I’m here.”

Eventually, Marian’s weight is too much for Isabela to hold standing, but she still doesn’t pull away. Instead she folds, taking Marian with her. The crew don’t come closer, and their voices are quiet - though whether that’s only the echo of the storm in her ears Isabela doesn’t know. She waits until Marian opens her eyes to look up at her, once again fully human, face red with sunburn and wet with tears. She says, “I didn’t, I’m sorry, I -”

Isabela says nothing. She just presses her closer, and rubs slow circles in her back, hushing her. Marian weeps until she cannot cry any more, and then lies there, quiet and shivering, face hidden in Isabela’s shoulder. Isabela holds her with shaking arms, and kisses her again and again. Around them, the ocean sways and kicks gently under a suddenly clear sky. Marian sniffs, and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “Sorry, again, Guessing this really wasn’t what you signed up for, was it?”

Isabela purses her lips, and catches her face in her hands, forcing her to meet her eyes. “I always know exactly what I’m getting myself into, harpy.” Marian’s mouth twitches in the direction of a smile, and Isabela leans forward and kisses her, deeply, despite the snot and tears and ozone sting of magic on her tongue.

Marian pays for the cannons, later. But first, they give the children a proper burial. Afterwards, they share a drink on deck together, sweating and dusty from the beginning of extensive repairs. The crew give Marian a wide berth. She drinks deeply from her cup, and looks at the horizon when she says, “it’s bad luck, you know.” She cuts a glance at Isabela, eyes blue as magic in the twilight. “Mages, on ships.”

Isabela shrugs, and steps closer, resting her hand over Marian’s on the railing and winding their fingers together, tightly. “Bad luck for templars, maybe. But something tells me we’re going to be just fine.” The corner of Marian’s eyes tighten, and she looks away from her, toward the leaping horizon.

“You have a lot of faith in me.” The words are pulled thin, like too little thread across an open wound. Isabela squeezes her hand against the still damp railing of her ship. The sea breeze pulls her salt-thick hair whipping against her cheeks and chest. She’s looking at the sunset when she replies, gazing at where the sun burns the sky as it dips into the sea.

“I know. But I have to have faith in something.”

#dadwc #my fic #alienturnip #hawkebela #da2 #hawke #isabela

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haillenarte · 4 years

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white day 2020;

Here is a full translation of the (thus far) Japanese-exclusive White Day 2020 Developer’s Blog post.

First, the dry translator’s disclaimers: I acknowledge that this post is four months old. Once upon a time, I was the sort of fan translator who would have rushed to get this done within a week of its posting, but in this case, I was busy with the Ishgardian Restoration Skybuilders’ Ranking when it was first posted, and then after that... well, I just busied myself with other things. I was tempted to skip doing this one completely, but then I felt obligated to complete the series given that I’d translated the post from 2018, so... goodbye to my Saturday morning and afternoon, I suppose.

This post is intended as a polished translation on par with official content. As such, I have taken certain liberties with the text: though it was originally in more or less a script format, I embellished it to make it a prose post consistent with other English developer’s blog posts. Most of the moogle’s narration was invented by me in order to preserve humor and narrative flow. This is nothing that the localization team itself does not do. I can assure you that the core details remain essentially intact and untouched.

If you would prefer to read a more literal take on this text, I am sure that more than a few rough translations exist of it already, so please look for someone else’s post if you want something that’s more of a word-for-word take.

Special thanks to the person I trust best to write Urianger’s dialogue for helping me with Urianger’s dialogue, and then to a second good friend for Elizabethan grammar-checking the both of us!

Happy White Day, Kupo!

March 13, 2020

It’s ever so nice to speak with you again, kupo!

Do you remember me from the last report, perchance? ‘Tis I, the ever-industrious deputy postmoogle’s apprentice! The rising star that’s, ahem, still training to become a full-fledged postmoogle... kupopo...

This Valentione’s Day — like every Valentione’s Day — we postmoogles were once again entrusted with delivering confessions of love all throughout the realm. So I’m here to give you an exclusive rundown on how my deliveries unfolded, kupo!

First, I tapped into my considerable experience as an aspiring postmoogle to... erm... take care of the most difficult delivery on my list before all the rest. A-As any professional would, obviously!

...Phew!

Oh, it was such a relief that he was asleep when I dropped by, kupopo... I thought my heart was going to thump straight out of my fluffy chest! My paws might have been severed... my pom plucked...

Honestly, I was of the distinct opinion that I had done more than my fair share of the year’s work after that, kupo, but of course I tirelessly flew away to my next destination without complaint!

The second set of Valentione’s Day packages in my delivery satchel were meant for Lord Hien of Doma!

Lord Hien greeted me himself, kupo, friendly as ever. "Ah, the postmaster — right on time as always!” he said, a little breathlessly. “You have my thanks. Would you just leave your deliveries on that table so that they come to no harm?”

What harm? I was more a bit confused, but then I realized that he was in the middle of some sort of... game?

He was running around, being chased by the leader of the Buduga clan, kupo. I suppose they were in the middle of an extremely spirited game of tag! How fun! I remember when I was a young moogle playing tag with my friends, floating in circles with the wind in my whiskers... Oh, for those halcyon days!

Daidukul received a fair bit of stuff from his admirers, too, kupo. More than Magnai, that’s for sure...

Then Isse looked at me as I was laying out everyone’s packages. “Oh, the postmoogle’s arrived?” he asked. “Um, by any chance, are you the one who delivered the year-end gifts from last time? I meant to give my thanks to the person who sent me something then...”

Of course, I told him that would be perfectly fine!

After all, even when it’s not Valentione’s Day, it’s the responsibility of a delivery moogle — or delivery person — to ensure that all the tender feelings they’ve been entrusted with reach their intended recipients. That’s why there’s no better job for me than being a postmoogle!

After my business in Doma was concluded, I flew back to Eorzea, kupo.

I’m a real go-getter — and someone really ought to tell the deputy postmoogle of my great work ethic — so I darted straight to the Black Shroud to unload my paws of all the packages I had for the people there. And what luck! As fortune would have it, I met one of my delivery targets on the road: Sanson Smyth!

“Happy Valentione’s Day, Sanson!” I chirped. “I have some very special deliveries for you and your usual companion!”

“Companion?” Sanson repeated. He sounded a little incredulous. “Er, no, that’s not quite right — it would really be more accurate to call him a vexing subordinate... Regardless, if it is Guydelot you seek, he is no doubt at his usual tavern. Would you like me to walk there with you?”

Oh, but of course I did, kupo! Sanson’s such a thoughtful, helpful man, isn’t he? It was so very nice of him to ask.

Taverns are where travelers go to rest, so they seem like such wonderful places to meet other people, kupo...

Once I’d finished with my deliveries in the Shroud, I let the cool northern winds carry me straight to Ishgard, kupo. And what change it’s gone through! The city was just bustling with the reconstruction effort!

I told Edmont (Count Edmont? Lord Edmont? So confusing!) that I’d come to deliver joyful tidings of love to everyone in House Fortemps again, kupo!

And to Ser Aymeric as well, of course!

And... well, I had a whole sack of things to give to Estinien, but just like last time, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Since writing his name on it and leaving it by the window seemed to work last Valentione’s Day, I asked Aymeric if I should do the same this year, but... kupopo... He didn’t quite seem to approve of the idea.

“We’ve received word from our men afield that Estinien may no longer be operating in Ishgard,” Aymeric explained, “so it may not be enough merely to leave his gifts by the nearest window and expect him to come across them.”

My pom drooped a bit at this pronouncement, kupo. After all, how was I going to deliver Estinien’s presents if even the Ishgardians couldn’t find him? Was it all hopeless, kupo?! All those packages to be returned to their senders... What a waste!

“No, well... Another report indicated some success in luring him with the scent of roasted kraken, seared by dragon’s breath. We might try that, if you’d like.”

I thought that seemed like a reasonable suggestion, but Edmont looked a little concerned. “Ser Aymeric, do you truly think — ?” he began, but then he seemed to change his mind. “...No, forget that I spoke. That being said, the restoration of the Firmament is proceeding apace, so I would exercise caution around undue use of fire...”

Well, I am nothing if not a cautious moogle, so I very carefully cooked up some delicious grilled kraken over an open fire, kupo. We postmoogles truly go above and beyond for our work!

I left his packages with the salted cephalopod as it was roasting, so I’ll bet he was thrilled to find everything set up for him!

I didn’t forget to make deliveries to this place either, kupo.

Whenever I come here, the atmosphere of the room feels so... so holy, kupo. As if the very air is clear... but empty, too. Do you know what I mean?

I cleaned up my posture before I left, kupo, and then it was off to finish the rest of the deliveries!

I had successfully shared everyone’s expressions of love with all sorts of people in Eorzea, and now it was time for... um... the impossible, kupo. You see, I still had a whole stack of especially challenging deliveries to make to the First!

We moogles have a lot of special tricks up our poms, kupo, but even I can’t possibly visit another shard without a bit of help...

I really hadn’t the foggiest idea how to get there, so I wound up consulting the helpful folks at the Eighteenth Floor to ask them how I could get to the First!

And do you know what? They were so nice, kupo! They said that because Valentione’s Day was such a special day, and because they wanted to accommodate everyone’s heartfelt feelings, they’d let me use a special door that would take me safely to the First. Though it was not without... stipulations...

They handed me an enchanted pocket watch and said that if I failed to return before the hand on the watch made a full turn around the clock, I’d never be able to go back to Eorzea again, kupo.

Terrifying! Utterly terrifying! What other job would possibly ask you to put your existence as you know it on the line, kupo?!

But I am, as I’ve said, a professional beyond compare... so I made up my mind and zipped right through that door!

...I admit, I passed out and lost consciousness as I was traveling between the worlds, kupo. But when I came to, I was in a beautiful purple forest, and I could vaguely hear someone calling for me!

So I bounced back into the air and fluttered off to the Crystal Tower, kupo!

Naturally, the first First resident I delivered packages to was the Crystal Exarch. I had things to give him as the Crystal Exarch, and... other things to give him, too, kupo. Presents from a different time, from when he went by a different name.

Now, I must admit, I’ve never quite understood his situation, but I did dutifully deliver his Valentione’s Day gifts each and every year! I simply wasn’t able to enter the Crystal Tower, so I would leave them at the entrance, kupo. I told him this, and then I asked him if he’d received them.

...But he didn’t answer me, kupo! He just started crying!

What was a poor moogle to do? I mean, you’ll notice our paws aren’t exactly great for wiping tears away. Had I made a terrible mistake after all? Should I not have done that?

“No,” the Exarch said, shaking his head. “No, you... you have done nothing wrong, little moogle. Forgive me. Let us move on. We must needs formulate a plan to keep you safe as you navigate this shard.“

I was very grateful to have made the acquaintance of such a cooperative colleague, kupo! With his help, I charted a path through Norvrandt that would let me finish my deliveries in time.

Next time, though, I hope I’m given a bit more time to take in the sights. I still think of those beautiful flowers in Il Mheg, and all the sights and sounds in that luxurious seaside city, Eulmore...

The Scions of the Seventh Dawn were there on some sort of business trip, I suppose, and of course they received as many gifts as ever, kupopo. I was very pleased to meet young Ryne for the first time, though!

She was delighted to meet me too, I do believe, and when I explained to her what Valentione’s Day was all about, she smiled and said, “It’s so wonderful that there are such beautiful holidays on the Source!”

“I’m sure Norvrandt will begin celebrating its own holidays before long, now that it isn’t under threat of the Light,” Thancred told her. “If you want, you can start a holiday of your own, with your friends.”

“That’s true,” Ryne giggled.

Urianger was especially pleased to see Ryne smile, kupo! Er, what was it he said again? “Pray enjoy thy gifts, to the delight of those who give thee affection.” Something like that, kupo? And also, um... “Have care lest thou shouldst cross paths with pixies and their kin, for therein lieth a penchant for mischief most troublesome.”

Yes, that was it, kupo!

Seeing everyone smile made my heart feel all warm and fuzzy too, kupo. I realize I’m always warm and fuzzy, but I mean extraordinarily so!

After ensuring that all of my packages arrived in the hands of their recipients on land, I then had to travel all the way to the bottom of the deep blue sea. It still boggles my mind that people on the First live beneath the ocean waves, kupo!

It took me some time to find someone who would respond to me, but I managed it eventually. “Why, hello there!” I said. “Yes, you, the tall fellow over there! Do you know where I might find someone by the name of Emet-Selch? I’ve a long story that I haven’t the time to tell, but to cut it all short, I have a pile of presents that I must see into his hands!”

I couldn’t quite make out the tall fellow’s face behind his mask, but I got the impression that he was smiling at me, kupo. “You are troubled, little one. Yes, I understand... If you would deliver these glad tidings to him, then let me give you a helping hand. Here.”

Poof!

I couldn’t believe my eyes, kupo! With a snap of his fingers, the tall man made all my packages for Emet-Selch disappear into bits of light!

This wasn’t in any of the procedural manuals the deputy postmoogle made me memorize back-to-front, so I admit I might have panicked a little bit... but the tall fellow calmed me down soon enough.

“Even sweet gifts such as those you bear are only masses of aether,” he explained. “Once reduced to their base components, they will go to where he is — where all life eventually arrives. Be at ease, child. Whatever his faults in character, our lord of the dead and king of the underworld is an exceedingly clever man. No matter how vast the sea of life may be, he will surely be able to pluck his presents from the aetherial flow... supposing he desires to do so, that is.”

Now, I didn’t truly understand the finer points of this explanation, kupo... but the masked man seemed sincere about getting those gifts to Emet-Selch, so I decided to believe that he hadn’t done any harm.

I wanted to thank him for his help, but then he was gone in the blink of an eye! Even though I was in the middle of speaking with him when he vanished!

The citizens of that place are so mysterious, kupopo...

After all that was said and done, kupo, I had one final delivery to make. Just one last addressee to track down, and then I’d be finished, kupo!

And I really put my all into it. I swear upon my postmoogle’s cap and bag! I looked everywhere, every mountain high and valley low, but I simply couldn’t track him down.

The time left on my pocket watch was starting to run out, kupo, so I had to accept defeat. Disappointed, dragging my drooping pom behind me, I made my way back to the door between worlds, which already looked like it was in danger of disappearing, and leapt through the gates...

Mayhap I had cut it so close to the last second that something went wrong, kupo?

I passed out again, and when I came to, I was rolling around on an unfamiliar grassy knoll... while someone was poking at me to wake up, kupo!

What luck! What incredible luck! It was the very person I’d been searching for, for all that time, up until the very last second — Ardbert!

I almost cried and threw myself at him, I was so happy! To think that I would find him like this! “Ardbert, Ardbert!” I said, like he was an old friend. “I finally found you! I had all these presents to give you, kupo!”

He laughed and took it all in stride, though this must have been greatly puzzling to him. “What’s this? Another reward for the quest we just finished?”

“No, it’s not, kupo!” I replied, perhaps a little more crossly than I should have. “Here, this is for you! Take this, and this, and this! It’s all yours, kupo! Each package represents someone’s feelings for you, kupo! Everyone loves you so much!”

“Careful, now — oh, these look delicious!” he exclaimed, affably embarrassed as he sorted through the boxes I was admittedly pelting him with. “And this is all for me? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, kupo! Eat them all up and have more faith in yourself, Ardbert!”

His eyes crinkled at their corners when he smiled. “Hahah! You’ve got a point. Then I’ll share these with my friends just over there. My thanks for bringing them all this way here, postmoogle. You’ve done a great job.”

...

I don’t quite remember what happened after that, kupo...

When I came to, I was lying on the counter of the Seventh Heaven, evidently having dozed off next to that Wandering Minstrel fellow. At first, I thought perhaps meeting Ardbert in that strange world had been nothing but a dream, but when I checked my postmoogle’s bag, I realized that it was much lighter, kupo!

So I really had met him, and I really had completed all my deliveries!

This year’s Valentione’s Day deliveries were arduous and difficult, kupo, but at the end of the day, I really did have a lot of fun.

I delivered all of your love to everyone else, kupo... and now I’m here to deliver their love back to you!

One more time, for everyone’s sake: Happy White Day, kupo!

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duskodair · 3 years

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further Noel lore, by popular demand (with the old bc why not)

The one constant in her life has always been him. One of them was born first, but they're not sure which. Names don't stick to them. Dozens of monikers have come and passed them by. They barely use names for one another, so it doesn't matter. They know vaguely which order the children they might have once been were born and named, but neither of them actually know to which of them each name belongs.

They come to the orphanage as a pair of red headed infants, identical and inseparable. Among the other children, they are easily lost in the muddle. They grow up holding hands and answer to both names. They come to answer to others as well, as staff members forget and rename them from the pool of other children.

The orphanage is a loveless place. They learn of the distant love of a God who has forsaken them from nuns who have no time for them. They learn to walk holding hands and make their own language to whisper the secrets they learn from watching places that the convent do not want them to see.

The nuns can't keep the right names pinned to the right child and by the time they leave the orphanage, their papers are muddled and merged, inseparable in their scarcity. At fourteen, they do honest work for a few months, pulling in a pitiful wage between them. They answer to the names that the nuns told them they were given as decide that it's not for them.

Knowing their letters, at least, gets them into interesting places. Gossip slips by them. They come home with stories and whispers of crimes committed in distant towns. There's nothing truly behind it, but it intrigues them.

They leave the town they were raised in with the collection money for the convent's charity children. They never saw any of it whilst they were there, so they reckon it's theirs to take.

They do it sensible, though, no grand heist and sudden exit. One day two nobodies walk the streets and the next they are gone, notice properly given and a forwarding address passed along to those it may concern. Perhaps they go where they say they are going, perhaps they do not. The convent only realises the theft far later than it could be solved. And by that point, they are dust on the plains.

'New town, new names' is their policy. It gives them something to do on their journeys. Their childhood gives them a wealth of options as they work their way through the Good Book. She chars for a family as Leah, subtly learning to mimic the habits of those born into money as she beats dust out of the curtains. As Mary she is a gentle lady, down on her luck, willing to watch the children.

She never does a con without him. It starts with petty theft, enough to tide them over. But they grow confident as the years pass, and still the sheriffs fail to put out a bounty for names they've left behind.

Both of them claim to do the most work in their enterprise. She scoffs and says he's far too distracted by pretty stable boys and saloon lasses for his case to be true. He argues that she's too busy staring at her own reflection in things to possibly be doing the most work.

She kicks him, out of principle, before grinning. They're nearly done with this town. Regretfully, they're about to have a family emergency and the gentle seamstress' assistant and the errand boy will have to leave. It will be a while before anybody notices that old Mr McCoy hasn't been seen in a while. Well, perhaps the young ladies he used to shout at might notice, but the twins don't think they'll miss him.

Noel swings out her legs one last time before depositing them in Jonah's lap. She leans back as she considers the best way for Miss Miranda DuVal to break her incoming family crisis to her employer to potentially receive offerings of sympathy. In the last town she'd received a lovely pair of hand me down boots. She's hoping to do much better here, and well, there's some lovely stuff in the Atkinsons' unpaid tab.

The breeze picks up a little. Nothing like a peaceful walk and a casual picnic to enjoy their last day in this town. She looks away from the disappointing straggle of houses that make up the town, towards her brother. He's lying down in the prairie grass, staring up at the passing clouds. She thinks he's probably thinking about a barmaid again. He's got that look on his face.

She rips up a bit of grass and tosses it at him, 'keep your raunchy thoughts off your face. I don't want to know'

He tosses the grass back at her, 'I can do what I please. It's my own bleedin face'

With that, he rises, pushing her legs from his lap.

'Now come along, sister dearest, I'm sure we are missed. I must see if Old Man Thomas needs any more of those crates lifting, and I'm sure you have embroidery to do'

She lets him read her disdain before rising and schooling her features into the amiable Miss DuVal. 'Of course, brother, shall we go, then?'

She takes his arm and they head back to finish the performance before the appointed hour of departure. They make their arrangements and say their goodbyes. Jonah receives his kisses and Noel her tea gown.

On the road they pick new names, write a new story. When she stumbles in a gopher hole, he christens her Grace. She makes a hand gesture that the nuns certainly would not have approved of and accepts the name.

Town after town they pass through, weaving their way West, across the country. Their cons become bigger and grander and their budget grows.

For all their griping, they make an excellent team, she thinks, as he combs out her hair for her next performance. Their plan is to land a quiet jackpot in the town of Danser. It's been in their sights for a while, a little passing place, irrelevant. Perfect.

They have a few weeks to go before they arrive, appearances to make along the road. They call themselves Underwood for the branch that Jonah stumbles into as he stumbles around their camp after dark. They turn the branch into a lumber business and laud their wealth to one another.

Noel laughs into the fire as she weaves stories of their loving Papa, whose only desire in life is to see his daughter married off to a reputable man. Jonah grins as he fleshes out the tragedy of their gentle mother, taken too soon.

At least, Noel thinks, she won't have to wear the fashion of a widow too long, as Jonah will, of course, have to return her to the loving safety of her father, if there is nobody left in Danser to provide. She checks the Derringer strapped to her thigh and consigns her new life story to memory. Yes, she thinks, Noel will work as a name for a while.

______

Danser is quiet the day the Underwoods ride into town. On the surface, they bring little change, just a business deal and a wife for the wealthy Mr Tobias Lloyd. Noel rides into town as a bartering token for her family's lumber business, a symbol of an alliance sealed.

Jonah Underwood brings her into town, red hair tousled in the wind as the twins drive, laughing, down the dust scattered road. He's going to stay in Danser as she gets settled.

He'll probably stay longer than expected, loath to leave her. They've never been more than a week apart throughout their short lives. Where she goes, he follows, but this time, he cannot.

Noel is prepared, she thinks, for a husband. Her trunk is packed with all her worldly possessions and the wood of the carriage is steady under her hands.

The town spreads before her, barely a stopping point out from the city. Home, it seems, now. She's a long way from Tennessee. She's a long way from their smaller cons. Jonah meets her eyes. They're ready.

Her fingers dust over the derringer that she carries strapped to her thigh. She smiles. The plan is simple. She can do it. Jonah guides the horses forward into town, nodding to the old man on his stoop outside the general store, before heading to the Emerald Hotel.

She holds her head high as Jonah makes arrangements. The role is easy, she smiles and nods and watches. Noel is quiet and demure, but ever watchful, cataloguing her new neighbours. She plays naive, batting doe eyes at passers by, luring people in to speak with them.

They spend a day getting settled, researching, making appearances. They go to church, make nice. They start tabs and pay them off, respectable like, with the money of dead men. They find out about Mr Lloyd. He's wealthy and removed, just their type. His employees dislike him, after a few drinks, and when Jonah reports back, so does she.

She is all smiles, however, when Jonah presents her with promises of lumber money. She twirls the loose curls that soften her cheeks around a finger, and in that motion, she has him. Soon the hair around her finger becomes a ring and she becomes a wife.

Tobias Lloyd is, fundamentally, a disappointing husband. Everything he tries to teach her, she already knows, and quite frankly, he's barely competent. He tries to run her in circles but his fall short of the ones she's running around him.

Jonah rides between Danser and the city, keeping the financial side of the con running as Noel pushes her hands into the running of the household. She takes control, bringing home arsenic for cleaning and for rats.

She makes appearances with her husband in the Emerald Hotel, a doting wife out for coffee. She wears fine gowns and resists gossip, staying upstanding, but never cold. She likes to think that she's making her mark in the town, becoming known. If she is, she's doing her job properly, settling her character witnesses.

Everything is going perfectly until it isn't. Jonah slips. Noel doesn't even discover how until it is too late and the gunfight is lost and Jonah is bleeding out in her arms, his tab with God unsettled and their victory bleeding away.

She buries him in the churchyard, demure and sweet, watching the stone with the wrong name mark her brother's place. Later, she rides out and screams, hands still stained red with his blood. She remembers his unsettled tab and sets out to match it, so that one day she can join him once more.

She returns to town and puts on her gloves. Tobias loves her, she is the perfect wife, so attentive to his bouts of illness and so concerned.

Noel forms the perfect cover, she plays her part perfectly. With a little sacrifice, she covers for Jonah's slip. She helps collect funds for the new church floor, embroidering kerchiefs with dainty patterns for the pastor to sell. The new pastor admires her faith, he smiles and says one day she'll see heaven. She does her best to ensure that won't be so.

Tobias grows sicker and sicker and Noel worries more and more. At least, in public. Old Man German at the store grows tired of her asking after medicine. There is never any coming in.

Calling for the Doc is a risk, but a necessary one. Fortunately, it pays off, he patiently assures her that he's not a doctor and he cannot cure her husband. He's the best Danser has, however, and all her husband will see. She grows fond of him on his visits, another respectable alibi and connection for when she is alone.

She forges ties and prepares for widowhood. She ties her hair up neat and slips into the saloon instead of the hotel on a Friday afternoon, seeking the Doc, looking to keep herself in his mind. She's going to need a new husband soon, anyway, and it's always a good idea to plan ahead.

#chill to reblog #a town called danser #noel #jonah

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imnotwolverine · 4 years

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The Monster’s Lair - A Scarlet Wedding

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

< Chap 7 | Chapter 8 - A Scarlet Wedding | Chap 9 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - angst, man hunting, violence and mention of death

Author’s note: *cries in angst* Honestly though, bring tissues for this chapter 😭

Word count: 3.004

Reading music: Teho Teardo & Blixa Bargeld - The Empty Boat

(Link to my Masterlist)

‘Come.’

Her father’s voice had been laced with worry as he too noticed the wide-eyed expression of the vampire, his monstrous eyes staring back at Belle. Was he going to force her to stay? Was he going to hurt them?

No.

With large, blue blinking eyes the monstrous man had remained, feet nailed to the ground as he watched her and Arthur leave. It was near disappointing to Belle, a terrible pang felt in her heart. Why? She wasn’t so sure. She had barely talked to the man. Come on Belle, get a hold of yourself! Like. He was quiet, weird, logy. Handsome, sure, but that was hardly a basis for sympathy and care, right?

With unsteady feet she followed her father out of the forest, the daylight strengthening as the new day had begun.

Where hours earlier she had wished nothing more than to leave that gloomy castle, her every fibre now suddenly ached to get back.

‘I have an idea.’ Her father slowed his pace so he could whisper in low volume - careful not to make himself heard by the monster if he so happened to listen in on them. Belle stiffly nodded, worried brown eyes meeting Arthur’s gaze. But he didn’t seem to interpret her worries quite correctly; ‘We can leave at once! Take two horses, go for Brimwood town. With luck we get there by evening fall. We can..’ - ‘Right now?’ Belle breathed, halting her steps, shoes sinking slightly into the damp, soft earth.

‘Yes! Now, Belle! Do you not see? If we are to return to that…’ Arthur gestured in the direction of the well they came from. ‘..thing.. We may not leave alive at all. He is a monster, Belle. Be as it may. This is our only true option.’

Belle’s heart sank.

Wasn’t this what she wanted? What hurt could a fresh start do anyways? Perhaps there were people there who understood her? Maybe she could get a job so she could buy more books..and find a ..h-husband..and..UGH..

No.

But just as she wished to voice her distaste for the idea, she eyed her father. The poor old man was courageously pacing ahead, old legs stiffly jumbling over a few fallen branches. He had come to save her. Despite his evident fear for the forest and the..the..beast? Heavy heartedly Belle came to the realisation that it would be selfish to deny her father this. This chance. If her father said this was a good idea, who was she to deny him? To refuse his proposal merely for the fact that she had developed this strange desire for the decadence of that castle, for the blue eyes of that strange Master. It was wrong of her to even think like this. He was a good father..and she would be a good daughter.

‘O-okay.’ She mumbled, following her father onwards, back to the stables, their cottage not far now.

As they walked down the muddy country road, the wind cold and harsh now the trees were no longer there, an even greater cold walked up Belle’s spine. As morning had come, many people were afoot, glowering stares burning at her and her father.

Had the Master been right? Did they know of what had transpired this morning? Already? Belle knew news tended to travel fast, but this fast? It had been mere…

Arthur gasped softly before her, a visual tremor running through her father’s old bones.

‘What is..’ Belle joined his side and noticed it too; large red marks, claw-like in shape, had been crudely painted on their front door. There for all to see. Holy… Belle swallowed and eyed her father, his head starting to shake “no”.

‘Come papa.’ She ushered, eyes watchful of the towns folk that still burned their eyes at them, chests puffed and mouths curled in mean scowls.

Shit shit shit.

The next exchange of glances between her and her father was silent, but clear; ‘Yes, we need to leave at once.’

It had been but moments, Belle’s possessions gathered quickly as it were no more than a few pots, spoons and a second chemise. Meanwhile Arthur had walked out the back to instruct the stable boy to continue as usual, the boy unsure of what to do when Arthur started saddling two of the horses.

‘Don’t ask.’ Arthur had grumbled, defeat in his voice.

This was not what Arthur truly wanted. He had built his life here. Born and raised. Grown into the young man that managed to capture his wife’s heart, his… His eyes flew towards the cemetery, not far off.

Could he abandon her, just like that? The thought made him choke up with more despair, memories flooding him so bitter sweetly.

‘Papa..?’

‘Yes dear.’ Arthur smiled, watching as his daughter placed her little straw-doll on the table, curious brown eyes blinking at him as he was cutting up some vegetables for the stew. Belle wiggled a little, then sat down on the stool at the opposite side of the table, her little hands folding over the edge as she watched Arthur’s hands work on a carrot. She watched his knife move, the sharp blade easily scraping off the skins, bright oranges and purples appearing from below the leftover dirt.

‘So. I was wondering.’ ‘Mmm..’ Arthur raised an eyebrow as if listening, his eyes moving back to the carrot in his hands.

‘What does it feel like? Love?’

Arthur near choked on the air in his lungs, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he quickly chuffed. ‘Love? Ha..eh..’

‘How’d you know you loved mama?’ Belle leaned into the table, her watchful face resting onto an arm she had planted on the table. Arthur hummed. Ever curious his daughter was!

‘Tis a fine tale actually.’ Arthur smiled, dropping the cleaned and cut carrot into the cooking pot, his fingers continuing with the peeling of a potato. ‘I was young then. And strong! And handsome too, mmm.’

‘PAa..’ Belle shook her head in bemusement, making Arthur snicker. ‘No, but, oh..your mother! Your mother was the fairest of the land, I’m sure. All boys were crazy for her! She had as beautiful a brown mane as you do, equal brown eyes to match. And she was clever. So clever! Mmm..’ He chopped the potato in large pieces before throwing it in the pot as well, his eyes now moving back to Belle, her eyes studiously watching him.

‘And then?’ ‘Then. Oh, I can remember it quite well. There were more suitors for your mother you see. So she set a challenge! She said “Bring me the most beautiful gesture of your love! Than I shall decide whom to marry.” And so we went our ways. The baker’s boy baked the finest bread. The priest’s son wrote a most wondrous speech, poetic and well-read he was. And Master Le Comte - the Grandmaster now - gifted her a jewel. A large ruby ring, so beautiful...Now..that’s some stiff competition..’ Arthur laughed.

‘And you?’

‘I? I went into the haunted forest - I beg you Belle, never go there - but I did! And I brought back a most magnificent scarlet rose.’

‘And that is what convinced her..?’

‘Haha..oh I doubt it Belle. But I have indeed asked her long after our wedding, and all she did was point at my heart and say; “Don’t be silly”. So! Here we are! I am your silly dad and there’s that!’

‘Mmm..I want that too.’ Belle said with a decided nod of the head.

‘The rose?’ Arthur chimed.

‘No papa! You silly... Love!’

Arthur smiled at the memory, the horses packed and saddled now, Belle raising an expecting eyebrow at him. So much she had grown since then. But so little she had truly changed. She would still tease and test him, just like her mother.

Oh. How he wished he could stay here. How he wished none of this had ever happened. Could he even provide a good future for Belle? Could he?!

‘Let’s go.’ Belle whispered softly, her hand prying one of the reigns from Arthur’s tight grip. He nodded and followed suit, their horses soon making way down the path that ran straight through the village’s centre; the only way to get to Brimwood. And as they went, horses in gentle gallop as not to attract suspicion, it became clear that it was too late for that; more searing eyes awaited them, and as the village square came into view, a whole horde of villagers appeared.

‘Papa..’ Belle whispered tightly, worried eyelashes fluttering in the cold winter wind.

‘Stay calm Belle. Show no fear.’ Arthur muttered, his hand pulling back his hood as he greeted a frowning land worker who leaned onto his pitchfork, cold air fuming from his nostrils. ‘Cursed.’ The man said quietly before turning back to his work, setting the tone for what was awaiting them in the village centre.

And indeed. They couldn’t make it much further, the people halting their horses and taking control of their reigns, shocked bodies pulled from the saddle.

‘NO!’ Belle exclaimed in terror, tears starting to well in her eyes. ‘Leave us be! We are innocent! PLEASE!’

‘Then why run, hmm, sugar?’ The large man who was holding her said, thick voice rasping in the shell of her ear.

‘Please.’ Belle cried, Arthur now joining in; ‘Leave her be! Take me if you will. But leave her be!’ His bony arms tried to tug himself free to get to Belle, but Belle was the first to actually manage, her good foot stomping harshly on the man’s boot, his yelp echoing through the onlooking crowd.

Within a blink she had retrieved the small knife from her pocket, fingers clasping the handle as she held it out before her, threatening to harm any who got nearer, the crowd was shocked for just long enough for Arthur to free himself as well.

Arthur stepped back to Belle, the people starting to swarm, circling them, except for this one side; the people not daring to turn their backs on the forest, dark and looming..and far too close for comfort. The late winter sun was rising above the thatched roofs, its rays just strong enough to cast long shadows from the treetops, casting long shadows that licked at their heels.

Reaching out a hand for Belle’s, Arthur squeezed with affirmation, eyes darting around to keep an eye on the glaring crowd, their fingers starting to wring around evil looking farm tools.

‘You have cursed us!’ One voice spoke, the crowd quickly erupting in more wails and accusations, emotions running high as pitchforks were rising in the air.

Fuck.

Without thinking, Belle clasped her father’s hand more tightly and pulled him back, back to the forest whence they came from, it’s darkness embracing them ever so willingly. But as they made it to the first trees, Arthur started grasping for his chest, his feet stumbling and lungs gasping.

‘A-AH.’ He groaned, thick brows furrowing over his pained eyes.

‘Papa…’ Belle tried to pull him ahead, the crowd now hesitantly stepping closer and closer to the trees, voices starting to chant more concerning things: ‘SEE! They are with him!’ - ‘Get them! NOW!’

‘Papa please..’ Belle’s tearful eyes watched as her father’s body started to crumple to the ground, the strength in his hand waning, face twisted with pain. What was going on with him? Why was he grasping his chest so? It were questions that remained unanswered as the hesitant town folk were now creeping closer and closer, leaving but a few meters between Arthur and them. ‘Papaaaaa...No come on. You must..Please.’ Belle tried to pull him up, her skinny arms managing to only half get him off the ground before she felt his fist clutch around her skirts, his lip trembling. Wide-eyed with terror he spoke; ‘Go now Belle. Go…’ He swallowed harshly, blinking with pain. ‘RUN!’

‘PFF!’ The young Master huffed, eyes glaring at Morgana at the other end of the breakfast table. It was just one day ago that she had laid out those cards, speaking of his past, his now and his future. And what future he would have! Oh! He was going to live a glorious life indeed! And if she were true, all he needed now, was a wife. A sweet, pretty..young...hmmm.

With a quirk of the eyebrow the beautiful raven haired woman challenged him to continue. ‘So? Have you thought about what I said last night?’ She asked, lips sipping at her cup of herby broth - she tended to drink strange potions indeed.

‘Are you indicating I should be worried?’ His blue eyes rolled in their sockets, an indignant laugh escaping his lips. ‘I bet you that it will take me no more than a MONTH, to find true love.’ He exclaimed, a smirk digging little dimples in his handsome face.

And all Morgana did? She smiled.

‘Father.’

‘Hmm?’ The Grandmaster watched his son pace before the fire, Morgana long left for bed as the hour had grown late.

‘I must seek your advice. You see. I have indeed found myself a perfect wife. That is..I’m not quite sure how to…’ He bit his lip, thinking, then rolled his hand in the air.. ‘..proceed.’

The old Grandmaster huffed. ‘BWA. Ha! Oh son. You are a Le Comte! You can get anything you want, son! I’m sure you’ll find a way.’

A way.

Well, the way to this woman’s heart proved difficult. Days passed by that the pretty brown-maned girl wouldn’t even cast a glance in the young lord’s direction. She would hide away whenever he knew she was at the market. She would stiffly thank him when he’d bring her gifts. And he didn’t dare admit; but he was running out of options.

The pretty girl just didn’t seem pleased with his attention, albeit strange since she was by far not an interesting match. A simple farm girl, though pretty and smart. Why NOT would she like him? Was he so hideous and unsuitable a match?

With a vile aftertaste in the back of his throat, he decided to take a different route.

As of that year he had become responsible for leading the tax retrieval. And, with a few smartly placed changes in the yearly contracts, he found a perfect way to get just what he wanted; it’d only take a few raises in taxes for her father’s business and ..voila! Money would be tight enough for them to consider marrying off their daughter to their esteemed lord.

Simple? Right?!

That? That had been simple. Too simple, perhaps.

Before he could see through the vileness of his actions - his father telling him he was a prime example of the Le Comtes steadfastness and willpower - it became clear that this was no way to love. He saw it as his newly wed wife lay there shaking in bed, the sheets soiled with her blood.

This was love, right? It was how his father had done it. His uncle. All men in this family. You’d choose a fine woman and marry her, bring her gifts, charm her with your knowledge and strength, lay with her at night. And then she’d fall in love with you and there was that.

With an awkward touch to her arm he begged her attention, the poor woman shaking like a leaf.

‘Do you not love me, wife?’ He asked, her eyes appearing from beneath the shield of her arms, tear stained eyes looking up at him. ‘W-what?!’ She looked at him in bafflement, true horror striking her pretty features. Those doe brown eyes, that slightly sharp nose, a dusting of freckles coating her cheeks and those sweet.. rosy pink lips.

This..this was not a woman in love. Oh no. Oh no...This was not how it was supposed to be. But..but he did exactly as he was told. He provided for her in any way she needed. He’d bring the moon! The stars! The…

She spat at him.

‘You’re despicable!’ And with that she scrambled, her naked flesh wrapped in the bloody sheets as she fled from their newly shared bedroom.

Loud his cold heart thundered in his chest, fingers gripping around the bark of a tree as he wistfully watched the scene before him unfold. The way Arthur sank through his knees, the Master hearing quite well how disturbed the rhythm of the old man’s heart was. And Belle. OH Belle. Again, for just a moment, the Master could swear he felt his heart ache for her, the tears on her pale face etching despair and sorrow as the villager’s were slowly picking up the courage to proceed into the forest.

He couldn’t let them hurt her.

Pulling his hood back over his head he rushed out to her, branches whistling softly like the tears on her cheek.

Poor Belle.

He wasn’t even sure if she could see him through the lace of her tears, her eyes blinking up at him, lip trembling.

‘Please...pleaseeee.’ She bawled hands tugging at his cape, his arms instinctively stretching to pull her up to her feet - how unpractical it was that he didn’t hold his beastly strength right now. ‘My father..’ Her voice broke as she wrapped her arms tightly around him, the warmth of her small frame oozing into his chest.

‘Please!!’ His wife had cried, bloody her nightgown and frightened her eyes. Just like Belle’s. The same shade of brown, wide-eyed and crazed as she grasped at him. ‘PLEASE!’

A shiver ran down the Master’s spine, regret spinning his head as he barely noticed the people of the village who were now suddenly so very close.

‘WHO ARE YOU?!’ They belted, pointing at him, his cloak only just managing to hide his features from them, now daylight seeped through the trees.

He needed to get away from here. He needed to get THEM away from here. Him..and Belle. And as his ears whirled with panic, the villagers walking into the forest, he scooped her up, slow but steady boot falls leading back the long road to the castle.

‘I’ll bring him back, Belle. I will.’

Chap 9 >

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#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #beauty and the beast au #the monster's lair #a scarlet wedding #belle #angst #long fic #dark fairytale #adult fairytale #teho teardo #the empty boat

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kyber-kisses · 4 years

Text

September 18th

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: none, maybe some cursing but that’s about it. Begins during 4x01 Lazarus Rising.

Summary: Dean Winchester is the last person to ever believe in love at first sight, but when a hand hell’s pull him from the earth, he lays eyes on y/n, and everything changes. glimpses of memories are all that is needed to understand their story.

A/n: you guessed it! Another song fic! This one was based on Louisa by Lord Huron. Please enjoy! ( also its a hot mess so have fun!)

Song link: https://open.spotify.com/track/4BzUOXsZ3DqryXFi1bB5aV?si=C1tGnKhLS2WI9EZCI11gLA

When Deans soul was marked for hell, the last thing on his mind was falling in love. Even before that, he just didn't think it was in the books for him. He was a hunter, and he couldn't let himself go getting attached to anyone, and it also wasn't like he had found anyone that truly connected with him.

There would only be a small handful of people who would miss him when he was gone. He wasn't a celebrity among the hunter community by any means. Dean Winchester was just a shadow, a ghost moving through towns, solving cases and saving the day before anyone really knew what was going on.

He was just a nameless hero. He would go out guns blazing and that would be that. Life over.

Good for nothing is the name they'll remember me by Done nothin' with my life for no one, I'm just waitin' to die I turned my back on the world You know I'd given up on livin' til I met you girl

September 18th, 2008. That was the day you met Dean Winchester. The day your life changed forever.

It was supposed to be a milk run. Just a simple case, but when you came across the blast site you knew it was going to be anything but simple.

It looked like a bomb had gone off. Trees were knocked over like they were tooth picks, the earth dead and dry within the space. But what really caught your attention was the man laying in the center of the blast site. Chest heaving and covered in dark soil.

“Holy shit-“ you breathed, slipping your gun into your waist band as you raced across the ground.

He must have heard you coming, because once you were close enough, he attempted to lung at you, failing miserably due to his loss of strength from fighting against the coffin. You dodged his half-assed attempt, pinning him back against the ground.

“Who the hell are you?” He growled, trying to blink the remaining dirt from his eyes.

“I should be the one asking that. I just saw you crawl out of the ground.”

Then you came into my life with come hither in your eyes Pulling me outta the grave what a nice surprise I die when our nights end, but I only stay dead til I see you again

Once the dirt had left his eyes, Dean squinted under the blinding midday sun, trying to see who exactly had him pinned to the ground. It first it was just a silhouette, but then as his pupils adjusted he felt his breath catch in his throat. His struggle against you hold ceasing.

Your face was smeared with dirt from his sudden struggle, big y/e/c eyes looking down at him as the wind blew several loose pieces of hair across your face, the sun outlining you in an almost golden trim.

“Where am I?” He spoke slowly, for some reason finding it hard to break away his eyes from your own.

“Just outside of Pontiac, Illinois.” You informed him, your tone firm as you spoke, “now, once again, who the hell are you?”

“My name is Dean Winchester!”

That’s when you froze. Your grip on him loosening as you rolled off of him, “No offense, but you’re supposed to be dead.”

“Well no shit Sherlock.” He coughed, brushing off some more dirt from his clothes as he pushed off front he ground, extending his hand to help you up, which you accepted.

Once you were on your feet, Dean was finally able to tear his eyes away from you, suddenly scanning the surrounding area.

“Who are you and what the hell happened here?”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N. . . And the hell if I know. I heard rumors of a blast site outside of Pontiac and came to check it out. Sounded weird enough.” You admitted, quickly pulling your hair into a low pony tail as you talked.

“Why?”

“I’m a hunter. Weird is kinda my thing.” You shrugged.

When he looked back over to you, he felt his heartbeat pick up suddenly. He blamed it on his adrenaline from crawling out of the ground. He didn’t know you at all, and he found himself drawn to you like a moth towards flame.

I lie awake in the night just to see another dawn Used to be the sun was my weakness but them days are gone I feel your lips on mine Will you meet me by the river, baby, one more time?

“Am I ever going to see you again?” He asked slowly, leaning back against the car you had helped him jump start, eyes ever so slightly lighting up.

He didn't understand it. He had known you for maybe three hours now, and he was completely entranced by everything about you.

You gave him a surprised look, fishing into your back pocket and pulling out a poorly folded sticky note, you jotted down your phone number, passing it over to him with your index and middle fingers. “You've known me for what? three hours? and you’re already asking for my number? You really don't waste time do you Winchester?” You mocked, backing up towards your vehicle and flipping your keys.

“Its not like that!”

“You keep telling yourself that, Cowboy. Good luck out there!” slamming your drivers side door shut, you revved the engine before putting the car in drive and taking off down the empty stretch of back road, but not before blowing the jade eyed hunter a kiss.

Once again, At that time, Dean didn't know how much you would effect his life. The two of you would run into each other so often that you finally both agreed that it must be fate. A deep friendship blossoming from being the one to pull him free. And he found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with you each time your paths crossed. Eventually you just stuck around, and that made his heart and the very bones in his body shake.

September 18th, 2008. That was the day Dean Winchester began to believe in love at first sight. Because that was the day he met you.

I'll give you what you wanna have, I'll take you where you wanna go I'm the only man you'll ever need, girl, and now you know I'll write your name on my skin, as a promise that we'll never be apart again

“Damn it, y/n! You just had to barge in guns blazing didn’t you?!” Dean huffed, tearing the mid section of your shirt to take care of the new gash in your abdomen.

You let out a burst of light laughter, amused by his worry as he popped open the first aid kit, “You guys were getting your asses handed to you. It was just a couple of werewolves.” You breathed, wincing as Dean rubbed an alcohol wipe across the wound, not caring for gentleness. He was mad at you. . . Again.

“Yeah, a couple! Look at you! Your bleeding out!” He snapped, his hands working fast to clean and close the wound.

“No need to get so upset-“

“Well it’s a little late for that sweetheart!” Slamming the kid of the kit closed, he gave you one of his famous death stares. One of which you got way too often.

Swallowing, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, “I’m sorry, Dee. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” You mumbled, eyes begging for his forgiveness.

Deans shoulders fell along with his face as he let out a sigh. The anger was now gone, quickly replaced with concern and worry. Instead of pushing up from the ground like he normally did, he leaned over, pressing his forehead against yours, “I know, I know. I’m sorry I got mad. I just freaked out when I saw you hurt.” He admitted.

“Well, I’m okay because of you. You saved me. . . Yet again.”

I feel alive when I'm with you, baby So tell me that I won't ever be lonely again Don't wanna die I wanna wander the world with you And no one else for the rest of my days on this earth

The sound of the bunker door opening, followed with a string of laughter told Sam that you and Dean had just returned from the supply run. It was always the same each time you returned.

Closing the laptop in front of him, he turned in his seat, watching the two of you descend the metal stairs, arms full of grocery bags as you continued to laugh.

“I’m guessing the supply run went well?” He mused.

Dropping the bags on the table, you looked at the younger Winchester with wide eyes, “Dean slipped and fell on the ice outside!” You blurted, doubled over in laughter once more as Dean sidled up next to you, shaking his head as a massive smile took up his features.

“Alright, get your laughter out.” He grinned.

“He’s a total klutz!” You wheezed.

Rolling his eyes, Dean stepped forward, wrapping his arm around you and throwing you over his shoulder in a fireman's hold “Alright, you and I are gonna go and have a talk.” He chuckled, beginning his walk down the hallway.

“Oh, are we?” You mocked, your voice fading as the two of you disappeared into the depths of the bunker. Another burst of laughter echoing down the hall before being cut off by a slamming door.

A small smile tugged on Sams lips as he turned back to his work. Ever since you had come into his brothers life, Dean had seemed happier, more full of energy and life, even during hunts and hard times. He was grateful for you. They both were.

I turned my back on the world I wasn't always like this, girl Do you know what loneliness does to a man? Turn him into the walking dead I may have died but your lovin' raised me

“You stubborn, stubborn idiot!” You whispered harshly, falling to you knees next to a very unconscious Dean Winchester, “you just had to go and get yourself knocked out.”

The case had been going fine. Hell, it had been going great. Two hunters. Two vampires. Halfway through your fight with them, your partner had to lose focus, resulting in him getting his head slammed into a door, rendering him useless for the rest of the fight. Luckily you had taken the second one down with ease. . . But now You had a 180 lb mass to take care of.

Taking the loose flannel that was tied around your hips, you quickly tore it down the middle, being careful as you went to wrap it around the gash on his head.

“You stupid, stupid idiot.” You sighed again, taking in deep breaths as you tried to calm yourself.

“Would you quote calling me stupid and stubborn?” He groaned suddenly, green eyes fluttering open to look up at you.

And then you slapped him, the sound almost echoing through the empty barn, resulting in a light yell from Dean as he grabbed your wrist.

“What the hell!?”

“That was for not listening to me, and getting yourself hurt!” You snapped, before quickly pulling him upright and into a hug. “Don’t do that!”

“God, you’re insane. . . and I am completely in love with you.” Dean sighed, resting his hand on the base of your neck before pulling you back down to his lips.

I feel alive when I'm with you, baby So tell me that I won't ever be lonely again You saved my life I just wanna repay you in kind Ain't no one else ever tell you you're beautiful, girl?

He didn’t know how long the two of you had been sitting there, but one thing was for sure; he didn’t want this moment to end.

You and Dean had been sitting on the hood of the impala for what felt like hours, watching the sun set behind the trees. What used to be a lovely apricot sky, was now a deep navy blue, almost black. The star scattered sky felt like a blanket laid across the earth, and neither of you could bring yourselves to go inside.

Tearing your eyes away from the heavens, you looked over you shoulder at Dean, a light smile on your lips, “Didn’t you bring me out here to ask me something. . . Like a few hours ago?”

“Yeah, yeah . . . But if you want to just keep looking at the stars, that’s fine.” He grinned, his hands still deep in his coat pockets as he fidgeted with the small item tucked within. Unfortunately you quickly caught on to his uneasiness, sliding over the hood of the car and turning your body to face him.

“Alright, what’s going on?”

He wasn’t good at these sorts of things. . . Then again, he never really had done anything like this. It didn’t help that you made him a nervous wreck. You were so beautiful and badass. You rendered him speechless more times than he cared to admit.

Slowly he took his hand out of his pocket, opening his palm to show you the ring resting in the center. It wasn’t elegant by any means. In fact, Dean had made it from solid iron.

His nerves only grew when you didn’t say anything. After a moment he felt your fingers graze the skin of his palm, picking up the small piece of jewelry.

“Did you make this?” You breathed, turning it over in your hands as you looked at it, the moon giving off enough light to allow you to see it properly.

“Yeah. I know you don’t do fancy, so I made it out of iron.” He explained, watching a massive smile light up your face. That was a good sign, right?

“Dean Winchester are you asking me to marry you?” You smiled, quirking your eyebrow as you smiled at him.

“Been meaning to for awhile. . . But yeah, I am.” He nodded.

His heart stuttered in his chest when you moved to open his palm, slowly surrendering the ring to him once more. “Y/n, wait-“

“I think you should do the honors.” You smiled again, extending your fanned out fingers.

Dean let out a sigh of relief, shoulder instantly relaxing, “oh thank god. I thought you were saying no there for a second.” He breathed, taking your hand so he could slide the cool band over your ring finger.

“I could never say no to you.” You smiled, gripping his hand in yours as you looked over at him.”But I do have one question, there was something engraved on the inside of it, what did it say?”

“September 18th.” Dean spoke plainly, squeezing your hand, “Because that’s the day I met you. The day I started to believed in the love at first sight. . . It’s also the day I plan to marry you on.”

I feel alive when I'm with you, baby So tell me that I won't ever be lonely again Don't wanna die I wanna wander the world with you And no one else for the rest of my days on this earth

The End.

SPN Taglist: ( Still open)

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @neerness @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #spn x reader #supernatural #bi-danvers0 #bi-danvers writing

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youcantkillamutant · 4 years

Text

The Advocate: Three Weeks Before Finals

Author: youcantkillamutant

Fandom: Marvel (Black Panther)

Pairing: Erik Stevens/Killmonger x Black!OC

Summary: Lex is just trying to get through senior year without failing anything massive, so when she sees a lamb on her running route she ignores it, mostly.

Warnings: Cursing, Mention of Death (Human & Animal)

Words: 3K+

A/N: Hi….Remember me? Yeah. I’m still here, this time with a God!Erik AU. *shrug*. I only own my original characters of course, Marvel don’t sue me I’m broke.

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3 Weeks Before Finals

“Get out!”

“I am. I just wanted to check my—” Flashcards. One can never over-prepare. Right?

“No. Non. Nope. No m’am.” Ruby turned Lex by her shoulders. “You promised last week that you would relax. Pinky promised! So go have your weird picnic.”

“But—”

“No buts! I’m leaving you a bath bomb by the tub, and you better use it when you get back.” Lex felt a wave of affection for Ruby. Over the years she had surpassed roommate status and built herself a home in Lex’s heart. Lex opened her mouth to thank Ruby, but Ruby had already opened the door.

“I know, I’m the absolute best and you love me most. Now go!” With a shove, Lex was out the door and Ruby slammed, screaming a muffled ‘love ya!’ through the wood.

“Love you too Ru.” Shaking her head, Lex made her way to the stairs, sliding on a pair of cat eye sunnies and adjusting the basket on her arm. Today is going to be a nice, wonderful even, but most importantly relaxing, day. Hopefully.

*^*

“So how exactly are you getting out of this Cousin?” Erik was sat in the dungeons of Eko, where the sky meets the earth in a clash of thunder and splash of waves. It’s probably the closest he’s been to the earth below in a few dozen decades. Glossy and clean, the cell wasn’t uncomfortable, especially not for a God, but it was annoying. His prank was harmless, and suddenly the Elders are yelling at him about ‘disrespect’ and ‘ineptitude’.

“First of all, this is ridiculous. It was one prank!”

“One out of a billion.” Shuri noted sharply.

“Exactly! What makes this one so special? Why are the Elders mad about this? They hardly pay attention to us nowadays. Since when are they sticklers for the rules Shu?”

“It is…strange that they’re truly upset with you.”

“See! You know I’m right. Something is going on.”

“You may be right, but you can hardly prove it.”

“Yet. I can’t prove it yet.” Erik’s face had twisted into something fierce and contemplative. Shuri shook her head.

“You know, your scheming is what got you into this mess in the first place. Besides, mother and I have a plan for you. One that the Elders have already approved.” Shuri handed him a file. Erik’s eyebrows shot up, They hadn’t bothered with paper in a few dozen centuries. Then he opened the file.

It had the picture of a girl, cute, but unknown to Erik. She had a warm smile and dark circles under her eyes, wide lips and a button nose. Her name was on the next file, along with her date of birth, age, height, blood type, lineage and even her weight. Apparently, she was a student descended from good stock. If Erik thought back hard enough, he might have remembered fighting with the girl’s great-great-grandfather in some unholy war.

“Who the hell is this?”

“Your Advocate.” Shuri shrugged when Erik recoiled.

“She’s human. She doesn’t even have a degree. Or a drop of godly blood.”

“Actually we’re still running the tests on that one, but that’s not the point. She doesn’t know much about us, but she’s smart and fair. The Elders have approved her. They believe she’ll be unbiased with…everything.”

“Everything? What do you mean everything?”Erik figured he’d be out in a years time, five at most. No longer than a blink for a god his age. The Elders rarely bothered to hold grudges with Gods like him. He was too important for the balance to be indisposed for too long.

“There’s to be a trial.” Shuri could literally see Erik’s anger as veins of gold rose up his arms, trailing towards his neck. “Before you get upset! It was either a trial or immediate exile.” Shuri had expected this to blow the wind out of his sails, but Erik only grew angrier.

“So my only chance of coming out of this is a little human? I’ve never even met the girl!” He pounded on the bars of his cell annoyed that he was beginning to feel the chill of vibranium bars.

“Exactly. I’ve convinced the Elders that if you can convince the Advocate to help you, you deserve a trial. Led by Wakandan law and defended by her of course.” It was actually the most she could get the Elders to agree to. Even as she sat pleading on her knees, the Elders merely raised a brow and nodded in irritated acquiescence.

“Well where is she?” Erik looked around Shuri, but knew his ‘Advocate’ wasn’t around. He would have noticed a human on Eko. He wasn’t the Gatekeeper, but he knew energies.

“Erik, you don’t actually think the Elders would allow her into Eko without you convincing her first.” Erik rolled his eyes ad let his head fall against the wall.

“Now how am I supposed to do that from a cell Shuri?”

“You and I both know you can be resourceful. Pranking is not your only skill.” Erik stared up at the ceiling as Shuri walked away, wishing for the first tie since his imprisonment that his father was still around. At least he could give him some strength. Unfortunately, Erik would have to bolster himself.

“Good luck Cousin!” She didn’t bother saying anything else as she exited the cell. If Erik couldn’t get his Advocate on his side, then those might be the last words she ever said to him. Better to keep them jaunty rather than grave.

*^*

It was hot. Not unbearable, but not ideal either. The sun wasn’t shy today, finally breaking through the clouds that had been hanging over town. Still Lex trundled her way towards her favorite running path on campus. Huge shades covered her eyes, lips pursing in the heat and a wicker basket swinging on her arm. She’d borrowed the basket from the only pair of her friends that she classified as adults: Tom and Lucie. Though they were all around the same age, the couple had a nice little apartment, and emanated an air of togetherness that Lex couldn’t imagine having as a scattered grad student.

Lex pulled out her phone to share her location with Ruby at the entrance to the running path. Nothing had ever happened to her, but plenty of people had plenty of stories. The path was attached to some National Park and so long as you had your university ID, you could get into the thick of it for free.

On a running day, Lex found herself going ten or so miles, but today she just wanted to make it to her favorite little meadow. She wasn’t completely stressed, and so she didn’t need the run to get rid of excess energy pulsing through her. Today was a day to relax. Wiggling her toes in her shoes, Lex set off along the path.

It took nearly an hour, but she made it. By now, sweat made her skin sticky and the breeze came and went every now and then wrapping her tight and releasing her to the relentless heat of the sun. The meadow was just as nice as it always is, quiet and simple. A bed of grass dotted with toadstools, wildflowers and shrouded in peeling sycamores. The sun filtered through the leaves and the wind enticed them to dance, like a nature-made disco ball.

There was a vignette of three old tree trunks, stripped white and smooth. There was one in the center, nearly half her height, and some days, Lex could see bunnies and birds flitting around the area. Not today it seems. She shrugged, pushing away the irrational sadness at not seeing her usual gaggle of woodland creatures today, and shook out her blanket.

Lex kept her head low while pulling out her lunch letting the sun warm her neck for a bit. Remnants of fresh brie cheese were wrapped in kente printed beeswax, water crackers, a freshly chopped apple and another for the road. A turkey and swiss stacked with tomatoes, onions and lettuce on beautifully brown rye bread; fresh bread being one of the only things Lex splurges on weekly. A bottle of tea completed the setting, glass bottle winking in the sunshine.

Lex sank into the blanket, feeling a few blades of grass poking through the soft blanket as the tree roots cradled her. Eyes closed, she inhaled deeply, letting the exhale force any tension out of her body. When she blinked her eyes open, ready to eat, there was a brown lamb next to the tree stump, not even a breath away.

*^*

“I suppose you’ve heard the news Auntie. I’m to convince an ‘Advocate’ to help me.” Erik let out a bark of a laugh. “Can you imagine, the life of a God in the hands of a human. A tragedy for the storybooks, huh?”

“As far as I remember, you’re meant to be convincing that human to help you, so instead of belittling her, why don’t you get to work?”

“I already have. I’m just waiting to see if she bites.” And to see if she’s as ‘fair’ as Shuri says.

Ramonda raised her left brow tempted to ask more of her nephew. Did he not see that his place in the Godly court was at stake? Instead he lazes around in his cell waiting for a human to what? Rise to his bait? Briefly she wondered if this was something he learned from his time in the human world. They had lost track of him when he was small; Chaos and Kindness searched high and low for the little God. Still it took them a decade or so to find him and when they did…Ramonda shook the thought from her head as Erik spoke.

“What are you doing here, my dear Auntie?”

“Since you asked Nephew, I’m here because the Advocate was my idea. And I fear I would be remiss in my duties as your family if I did not help.”

“You’re helping me?” As the Goddess of Order, Ramonda had curled her lip at Ertumke the day he was born. A child born of Chaos and Kindness was never bound to be her favorite. Still she did her duties as a Godmother, not that the child seemed to care.

“Contrary to popular belief I do care about you Ertumke. You’re my nephew. Though irritating and often ridiculously dramatic, you are family. And you were the first to put a smile on T’Challa’s face when his father left.” There was a wave of silence as the sentence settled, but Ramonda breathed life into her body again in an instant. “Shuri did the hard work of getting the Elders’ approval. Now I’m happy to induct the girl but please Ertumke, no games.”

He seemed to think about this for a while, tapping his chin and studying his Aunt. They’d never been particularly close, Erik had always favored Shuri out of the lot of them, but then again, Ramonda had never done him harm. Even now she looked uncomfortable in his presence, but I suppose that makes sense. He is the child of Chaos. Order never sat well with him.

“I asked for Shuri and they sent you.” Erik had clanked an empty cup against the glass of his cage, barked a few orders at a Dora and waited. He should have known they weren’t going to get Shuri. Those demigods never get anything right.

“She’s been in the lab for a while, I wouldn’t want to break her concentration.” Ramonda knew just about everything of Shuri’s life except what happened in her lab. As far as she was concerned it wasn’t her business, or her speed. She’d much rather influence a few architects than spend her time trying to understand Shuri’s latest invention for the world below.

“Oh, Shuri couldn’t help her big cousin cause she’s in the middle of an invention orgy? Good for her.” Erik smirked and stroked his chin.

“That is my daughter you’re speaking about Ertumke.”

Erik shrugged. It’s not like he was actually talking about sex, which would have actually been normal for Gods like him. No, Shuri spent hours and hours in a lab, inventing and came out looking like she had just rolled through sheets with some of Eko’s finest. Still, he said nothing more on the subject, knowing that he should be grateful anyone came down to the dungeons at all. It was such an odd temperature here for Gods. Nearly cold enough to raise goosebumps.

“I would greatly appreciate your help Auntie.” Erik’s voice was more of s rumble than a clear sentence, and Ramonda’s mouth fell open in shock. There is a first time for everything she supposed. Even Ertumke asking another for help.

“Would you like some water? I thought you were choking on your pride for a moment there.” Erik cut his eyes her way with a minimal amount of heat and she laughed.

“I wish you had called for us earlier. You’ve already sent out your, bait?” Erik nodded though Ramonda barely paid him any mind, releasing a heavy sigh. “I’ll be late.” this time Erik really did choke on a laugh.

“You’re worried about being late? You’re a God. We invented time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being prompt Erik. Especially in a situation like this.” Besides, the Goddess of Order absolutely despised tardiness.

*^*

The lamb merely blinked at Lex. She froze, wondering what the hell was going on. Sure she’d seen rabbits and a few deer on the running path, it was a national park after all, but she’d never seen a lamb. She’d actually never really seen a lamb outside of a petting zoo, and that was ages ago.

This lamb, brown and unmoving, glowed gold in the sun. It’s fur had hints of red and curled like hers, in tiny kinky knots. It’s ear twitched as Lex exhaled and she froze again. The next time she breathed out, it tilted its head towards her.

“Uh…hi.” An ear twitched at the sound of her voice, but that was it. Still, she couldn’t pick up her sandwich, not while that little lamb sat there, looking at her.

Scooping the extra apple out of her basket, Lex approached the tree stumps. The lamb gazed on, black eyes unblinking. She’d taken off her shoes and socks and the grass beneath her feet was warm. The weeds circling the stump of the tree gave way the Lex’s knees as she knelt down to drop the apple before the lamb.

When she glanced up, just for a second, she saw the lamb dripping golden ichor from a crown of black thistles. Surrounded by torches and granite, the lamb was on an alter. But then she blinked, and the image was gone. Shaking her head, Lex wandered back to her blanket and ate her lunch. She was probably imagining things anyways, breakfast had slipped through the cracks in favor of another few hours of studying before Ruby woke up and berated her for it.

Lunch was delicious, the bread and brie especially. As she ate, Lex could feel tension slipping from her shoulders. She’d been coming on this path for years, and there was nothing like sitting out here. The natural sounds coaxed her worries away, and her eyes slipped closed under the sun.

When she woke an hour or so later, the apple was gone along with the beautiful brown lamb.

*^*

“Hallelujah!”

“Ruby, Jesus!”

“You look relaxed! You actually chilled out!” Ruby let out a whoop in Lex’s ear. “Though I see you haven’t used the bath bomb yet.” Ruby leaned into her neck for a whiff. “And you really should.”

“God okay, I just got back Ru.”

“I know, I know. Okay,” She plucked the basket from Lex’s arm and turned her towards the bathroom. “Go take a bath and soak in all of the serenity you found today. I’m ordering us takeout and then we’re watching crap TV!” Lex rolled her eyes as she stumbled to the bathroom.

The sunny day had taken more out of her than she imagined. She could still feel the heat on her skin as she undressed, and couldn’t stop thinking about that lamb. Sure she’d seen bunnies on the trail before, but never a lamb. Turning the hot water on, she let the tub fill as she grabbed her speaker and phone.

Light synth beats and soft piano chords filled the bathroom along with the steam, and Lex twisted the water off. Sitting on the floor, leaning over the edge of the tub, she let the bath bomb plop into the water. Closing her eyes as the bomb fizzed away, her mind drifted. She slipped into the glossy purple water absentmindedly relishing in the heat that prickled every inch of her skin.

This is always the best part of a bath. When the day is done, chores and homework taken care of, and you have to do is let the water ground you. Any movement, even your breath creates a soft current in the tub, encouraging the water to lap at your skin in a continuous embrace. Lex loved this moment, letting her head fall back as her eyes drifted shut.

When she blinked her eyes open, the album was drifting to a close and the lamb was back. In her apartment. In her bathroom. Lex jumped and water sloshed over the tub, crawling towards the lamb. She thought the steam was crafting illusions, but when she rubbed her eyes and blinked them open again, the lamb was still there. Steam swirled through the air as the lamb stood unblinking.

On a whim, Lex reached out a hand, palm open, water dripping from her fingers onto the mess on the floor. There was no way this was actually happening. Ruby would have noticed a lamb walking through the apartment, right?

“Hey, little one. What are you doing here?” Just like earlier, the lamb cocked its head at her words. Then it stooped down and licked a bit of water from the tiles. When Lex blinked again, the lamb was gone. Lex sat back gazing at the ceiling and wondering what the hell was happening.

It must be the heat. After napping out in the sun, and then a warm bath, she must just be experiencing some extreme heat exhaustion. Or some—

“Lex!” Ruby’s voice was higher than she’d ever heard it before, which raised an alarm. Ruby hated sounding shrill, she said it reminded her too much of her mom. Wrapping herself in a towel Lex hustled out of the bathroom and stopped short. Ruby was sitting on the couch in front of a woman. A woman in glowing robes.

“Um…hi?”

“Hello, Alexandra. I trust you are well.”

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A/N: *peaking out from behind a luscious palm* Hi everyone! I hope you’re all doing well! I never meant to leave things this long, but I got distracted with building stuff to redo my room and then starting a new job just as Rona got her feet on the ground.

I’ll admit I’m pretty nervous about posting this story. After being away for so long, it feels like I should just dip my feet back in and start slow. I’ll be honest I haven’t written in a WHILE. I’m kind of afraid I forgot how to write? lol *yikes* I’d love to know what y’all think, and I’m going to try to be a little more active in posting this story.

As I said before, I’ve had this idea rolling around in my head for a year and some change now (I think), and I was inspired by Champion by killmongersgurl.

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Let me know if you’d like to be added or taken off the taglist :)

Taglist: @princessstevens @muse-of-mbaku @k-michaelis@queenamaniii@dreadedphilosphy@killmongurl@thelovelyliterary@elaindeereads @thedom223 @muse-of-mbaku@bidibidibombaclaat@panthergoddessbast @writingmarvellousimagines@someareblindtoitsbeauty@jozigrrl@iamrheaspeaks @purple-apricots@thadelightfulone@janelledarling @killmongersgurl

#the advocate #God AU #my writing #mine #black panther #black panther fic #bpfic #Erik Killmonger #erik killmonger fic #erik stevens x black!OC

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vaixation · 5 years

Text

Why I've been gone for two weeks – Please note that this post is going to contain some serious content. However, this is a really important personal update from me.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: - Animal death - Suicide ideation - Depression/anxiety/dissociation - (Brief mention of abuse/trauma/C-PTSD)

Post under the Read More. - - -

I'm sure there's a lot of people who didn't even notice I haven't been online anywhere for the past two weeks considering I'm a pretty quiet individual and often keep to myself / disappear off the social radar for months at a time. However, there's a pretty specific reason this time why I haven't been around, and it's important to discuss.

At the time I am writing this, it is currently Friday, May 3, 2019. I'm writing this ahead of time because... I cannot sleep and I need to get some of these thoughts off my mind. This week has been the worst week of my entire life, without exaggeration. I'll start from the beginning.

For those that don't know, a tornado came through my area on April 19th. I would like to state right off the bat that I am fine - it missed my house, but only just barely. We can literally see the path / damage of the tornado from our house. Apparently it actually formed RIGHT THERE - the people who live just like three houses up the road from ours said they actually saw the tornado's funnel come down out of the sky. It's wild to think a tornado could come to life that close to our house. We were very fortunate to be okay.

I can't necessarily say the same for others, however. I don't know if anyone got hurt, but I did hear that one person's house was completely flattened. (Apparently there was actually someone inside, but she went down into the basement and was okay. Also concerning her welfare and loss of property - I heard there was a fundraiser that was helping their family out, and they apparently were on the TV at some point too about it all? That's just what I've heard through the grapevine - it's all second hand information so I don't know how much is accurate and I've no way to double-check right now.) (EDIT: I have double-checked for our area now that I have internet again and I can confirm no-one in our area was actually hurt. All the damage is to buildings and property, thankfully.) There's entire areas of trees that have just been wiped out. And I know there was a bus that literally got thrown up by the wind and is now just sticking out of the ground. Last time I saw it, they still haven't fixed that.

Point being, we lost power for a whole day. They managed to fix the power pretty quickly considering the damage, but the internet? At the time of writing this... I still don't have internet. And that's the primary reason I haven't been around. But it gets so much worse from here on out. For me at least.

So, my week was already really stressful for this reason (not to mention MY JOB requires the internet and I have NOT been able to do any of my work; my bosses know my situation but it's still very stressful.) We called our ISP multiple times trying to get it to work - they've sent out two technicians so far and narrowed it down to the modem router. It wasn't hooked up to a surge protector, and the power going out the way it did seems to have zapped the modem router and it no longer works. So we decided to buy a new one, and I swear we went to at least ten to fifteen different stores looking for a new modem router.

The problem is, all the new modem routers in stock are coaxial cable modem routers. Our ISP is only a VDSL / ADSL modem router (requiring a phone line), and we went through several stores looking for a DSL to coax adapter with no such luck. Apparently, an adapter / converter like that doesn't even exist. The closest thing we could find was an ethernet to coax cable, but that's not what we need obviously. Through some other connections we managed to finally just order a DSL modem router via Ebay; it's supposed to get here on Monday of this week, so... we'll see if it does by then, I guess.

(EDIT: It arrived sooner than expected. We’ve been able to get it up and running, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to post this, obviously.)

But, well. That's not really why this has been the worst week of my life. I mean, it doesn't help, but... I can live without the internet for a week or two, you know? I've gone years without it. Whatever.

The thing is...

My cat died.

And this wasn't just some random cat, okay. His name was Chip - or rather, Slavashado. (It's pronounced "sluh-VAAH-shuh-doe") You see, I modeled his name after T. S. Eliot's poem "The Naming of Cats." Within this poem, it states that a cat must have three names. One is a common, everyday, ordinary name. Chip. One is unique to him. Slavashado. And one, only he himself knows. And he took it to his grave.

Chip's been with me basically almost my entire life. He was 21 years old. I'm 26 right now; I'll be 27 in June. So he's literally been in my life since I was 6 years old. He's always been there for me. Always.

So I cannot possibly put into words how heartbroken I am that he's gone.

I love him with all my heart. And I always will. But he's gone now.

I can't even remotely describe how empty I feel. How utterly alone I am. There's a void in my soul that's so deep it feels like it's going to erode me from the inside out.

You know, I've never lost anyone close to me before. It's not that I'm a stranger to death... far from it. I'll get into that later. But... this is the first time I've ever truly lost someone I really, really, truly cared about. I've always thought grief would be a linear thing. I've seen the Kübler-Ross model of grief more times than I can count. "DABDA" for short - Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.

It's not linear. Not for me. I feel all of these things at the same time somehow. It's not like I felt denial first, then moved onto the angry stage. No. I just feel all of them at the same time. And I'm so overwhelmed. And I'll go from one end of this spectrum to the other end and back again. It's far from linear.

The sad thing is, I feel my grip on this world unraveling each day. My world already ended with Chip... He meant everything to me. I love him more than anything else in this whole world. So... I've admittedly been having some very bad, depressive, suicidal thoughts. I'm not actively going to do something to myself, don't worry. But... I've been thinking lately, you know what? If a car runs over me, I don't care. What if the storms knock a tree over on my house and it flattens me? So what. What if I'm in a car wreck and die? I just... feel so apathetic.

It's like that song. "If the silence takes you, then I hope it takes me too."

But... I can't join him. Not yet. I still have to live a full life, you know? I can't come to you yet, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I want to, but I can't. Not yet. I have to live a life that would make you proud of me, love.

Maybe we'll meet again in another life. Cats have nine lives after all...

But I've also just felt like I've started to really disconnect from reality, too. The other day someone said something - innocent, really - but the angry part of myself wanted to lash out and destroy and hurt. And the scariest thing was, I almost didn't care. Grief's not an excuse to lose your compassion, but I fear that I'm really losing it. It's hard to feel like anything's real, and somehow everything's all too real at the same time.

His health just... declined so rapidly in the last month. He went from being okay and active and about, to suddenly he can't jump anymore. Suddenly he's very lethargic and having a multitude of issues; he wouldn't be able to stand up without falling over. It got to the point where he wouldn't move around much anymore. I had to take care of him on a daily basis; almost 24/7 I'd watch him to make sure he was okay and wasn't having a hard time pooping/peeing and would wash him because he no longer had the strength to take care of himself or move anywhere or do much of anything.

I had to make a certain mixture of foods the vet prescribed to keep his nutrition levels up and to make it so he wouldn't be constipated, and had to monitor that he was eating / drinking enough. Eventually he stopped eating his food, so I ended up mixing it all in water and making it a liquid paste that he could drink instead, which he would gladly do. There were some glands on his throat that were swollen, so I think it was making it hard for him to eat even with the special food we had.

So... it both was and wasn't sudden. On one hand, it happened so fast? His health just plummeted and spiraled downhill within a few weeks. But on the other hand... he was just doing so badly. We took him to the vets multiple times and, there's really only so much that can be done. He was really old, you know? 21 is a long time for a cat to live. It's longer than most cats. I know he lived a long, good life, knowing he was well loved and cared for. And I truly did everything I could for him. I know I can't blame myself for anything, even though I tried to. I did my best, you know? But nothing lasts forever. All things one day die. It's the law of nature. And I'm no stranger to death. I know all too well this reality.

This isn't something I talk about a lot, but one of my parents was really abusive. She was really abusive to animals too. I've seen death. And horrible, traumatizing things too appalling to get into here. I've known from an early age that all things die. It's one reason I'm not... surprised. In a way, I accept that. I understand. I know.

It's why I'm a little obsessed with "morbid" themes, as others have put it. Death. Bones. Rot. Decay. (Plague flight on Flight Rising, anyone?) None of that is new to me. Finding an intrigue in it is a way of coping with it. Did you know that kids who deal with C-PTSD often recreate their trauma through play? Or fixate / obsess on the trauma somehow? That's why I literally relate so heavily to Henry from Fire Emblem: Awakening. He's the same way. He's seen animal death and cruelty. But he's also un-phased by blood and guts and everything. (He denies his trauma, but denial and even amnesia can be a big, big part of trauma. And the way he talks about his past almost sounds like he's dissociated from those feelings. I relate a lot to that too... I honestly find Henry to be very therapeutic to exploring my own feelings at times.) This is the reason I find horror and creepy content fascinating. And more often than not, it's hard to scare me. Fiction is so much less scary than the real thing.

My point is, I'm very aware of death. I'm aware of that finality. I'm aware of its permanence. Nothing I can do will ever bring my cat back. He's gone. So in a way, I accept that. And in a way, I also can't accept that answer. I miss him. I want him here with me.

In a way I'm kind of thankful that our internet wasn't working. It allowed me to attend to him in his last days without any other distractions. I spent so much time with him. And that gives me so small amount of peace, knowing that.

And I think he knew, the day he died. It was April 28th, somewhere in between 9-10 PM. I can't believe it's only been five days. It feels like an eternity without him here. But, that day, he was suddenly a lot more active than he'd been in months. He was up and walking around and came over to me and crawled up behind where I was sitting and snuggled and cuddled with me. I take comfort in the fact we shared a beautiful moment that day. Just sitting there, petting him, breathing in his wonderful scent and burying my face into his soft, warm fur. The deep purring, the soothing vibrations of his noise. I wish that moment could last a lifetime. I'm so thankful for the time I had with him though. It both feels like it was the right time - that it was meant to be - and at the same time I feel like he's left me far too soon. I miss him. I miss him so, so very much.

At least I got to hold him when he passed. I stroked his fur and cried as the last of his spasms died down. I've always feared I would find him one day and he just wouldn't wake up, so seeing him actually pass... it was scary. But it was good for me too. It brings me some small amount of closure that I could be with him in his final moments. He didn't have to die alone. For that I'm so thankful.

You deserve the best of everything, love. You were my faithful friend and companion for basically my whole life. I'll never, ever forget you.

Where are you now? Are you with the stars? Are you in my dreams? Where-ever you are, I hope you're safe. And happy. And at peace. Because I love you so, so much. And I always will. Now until the end of time, when death claims me too one day.

You know, at the start of the year, on New Year's, somehow... I knew. Somehow I knew this was going to be the year. I don't know why I did, but I just... felt it. And I promised myself, no matter what happens, I am going to make this a good year. And I will. But right now, I'm hurting. I'm hurting really bad.

Nothing lasts forever.

Not even pain. I'll be okay. But right now, I'm not.

"Whenever there is a meeting, a parting is sure to follow. However, that parting need not last forever... Whether a parting be forever or merely for a short time... That is up to you." - The Happy Mask Salesman, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask

We buried him amongst some of the trees growing back behind our house. I buried him with some things - that heart pendant I used to slip into my photographs to mark them as "mine," for instance. It was a really important necklace to me. So I thought it was only appropriate that he have it. My heart belongs to him, after all. I buried him with a book that was also really sentimental to me. It's called Consider Love. The last line in the book was "Consider my love for incredible you." I signed it to Chip (Slavashado), from me (my name). I love you, sweetheart. I love you so, so much. Do you know that? I'm sure you did.

And I sang him a song, one last time. I don't know how many of you know this, but... when I was a child, my parents used to sing me a song. It became really sentimental to me because of this - memories of childhood days long past, so I sang it to him too. I modified some of the lyrics though.

"You are my sunshine, My only sunshine, You make me happy When skies are gray... You never know, dear, How much I love you... Please don't take My sunshine away.

The other night, dear, As I lay sleeping, I dreamt I held you In my arms. When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken, So I hung My head and cried.

You told me once, dear, You truly loved me. And nothing else could Come between. But now you've left me, To fly to heaven, You're amongst The stars and dreams."

I wrote him a letter, drew him a little picture, and wrote down those lyrics for him too. He'll always have it with him. We put him on his bed and put all of that in a box and put that into the ground. We're planning on planting some flowers out there.

Digging a hole is so much harder than I thought it'd be. There's so many rocks and roots and the chunks of dirt can be hard to lift out of the ground. To be honest I wasn't much help though. I basically just cried the entire time. I didn't even know my face could make that shape. I've never seen my own face in such agony before, but looking in the mirror I wouldn't even recognize myself for the sorrow in my features. It's just so foreign. Alien. It's weird to me.

In a way, actually physically burying him gave me closure. In a way it just made it so much worse. I feel all sides of this grief spectrum at the same time. Acceptance. Denial. Those two things are one and the same now.

It's okay to grieve. It's normal. It's natural. But it just hurts so much.

No amount of reading about grief can really... prepare you for it.

I've cried and cried until my head hurts and my face does too. Every time I open the door to my room, it hits me all over again. There's no one here. There's no one waiting for me at home, no small face peeking at me from the top of the stairs. It's so empty here. It's so lonely. It's so unfathomably quiet. And it's just too much.

I've even gone out to visit his grave, came back inside the house, opened the room to my door, and realized - he's not here. And I was literally just at his grave. It's all the small things, you know? I miss him in so many ways, little things I've gotten used to that tell me of his existence, but that presence - it's gone. And when I'm here in this room, it's so crushingly obvious. His aura no longer flows from his position. Where he should be, there's just nothing. He's not here anymore. He never will be here again. I know that. I do. I know he's gone. But it's just... it's so weird.

He's here one day, and gone the next.

"The years now before us, Fearful and unknown. I never imagined I'd face them on my own. May these thousand winters, Swiftly pass I pray. I love you - I miss you - All these miles away..." - Lullaby for a Princess

I thought I'd have more time. I looked at the can of food I had planned to feed him the next day (and I was really excited for him to try this flavor, too) and just lost it. There's not a tomorrow. He's gone.

I found a trace of his fur on a piece of furniture, and I just started crying all over again.

I leafed through some of the few pictures I've taken of him over the years - far, far too few. And I wanted so badly to reach through the screen onto the other side, where he is. Because he's not here anymore. It's just so hard.

I want him to come back to me.

And at the same time, I don't.

It was meant to be. There's no undoing what's done. He's gone. I know that. But it doesn't change my feelings. I miss him. I love him. And I hurt. I need him. What am I going to do without you, love? You were my constant. You were always there for me, every time I've wanted to end my life. Every time I've wanted to give up. You were there. I need you. I need you so much. You've left me too soon. But I wouldn't undo a single moment. I'll cherish each one of them.

"But time is not eternal. Please make the most of your time." - The Happy Mask Salesman, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask

The fact that it's not eternal is what makes life so precious. Time is what gives each and every moment and second of our lives meaning, because that's time you'll never get back.

It's time like this that I'm also thankful for all the storylines I've grown attached to. Somehow, they're really cathartic to me. And they've all taught me things that have made this easier to deal with than if I didn't have them.

Super Danganronpa 2 with its message that, to give up on life is a blasphemy unto life itself. Don't give up, or you're spitting on the beauty that life is. Even if it's hard. That's all part of what makes life beautiful and worth living.

Or Undertale. That if you could control time, rewind, redo, it'd lose all meaning. Life would be static. Unmoving. And you'd get bored. Very, very bored. You'd lose what makes you... well... you. You lose yourself.

Pandora Hearts, that undoing what's happened - even tragic - would lose the meaning of what's happening. Turning back time doesn't fix things. It destroys what you had. Be thankful for the time you have, however short. Because that's what gives each moment so much meaning.

Majora's Mask, because it teaches me that loss and grief are all a part of life. And you have to learn to move on, and let go. All things come to an end. And that's okay. When one door closes, another opens. Life moves on.

There's... well. A reason why those four storylines are my top favorite storylines. They're therapeutic to me. They help me cope with life in general, and everything I've gone through.

The day before he died, we went out to eat at a Chinese restaurant. The fortune cookie literally told me, "Opportunity is knocking on your door - answer it tomorrow."

"May be a reason why all the doors are closed So you could open one that leads you to the perfect road" - Katy Perry, "Firework"

You know that song, "Wake Me Up When September Ends" by Green Day? If I'm not mistaken, it was written after the passing of the singer's dad. And the sentiment is something I relate to. Wake me up a few months from now. I just don't want to be here right now. I'm so tired, and so very sad. There's a sorrow deep inside my soul too heavy to bear right now. I just want to sleep. I want it to be over. I don't want to deal with all of this right now. It's so much, and I'm overwhelmed.

I don't know if this factors into denial, but I've been trying to get out of the house more. Staying here just reminds me of what I've lost. I've been taking walks outside. Just anything to get my mind off of Chip. All the scents and sounds. The life that's buzzing around right now - the seasons are beginning to change into summer, and there's so many insects and birds about. Life continues on.

Somehow it's comforting to me. And somehow it's not. The more time I spend out of the house, the more I can't tell what's real anymore. The real world feels like a dream. Fake somehow. And my house just feels like a nightmare. I dread going to sleep every night. What nights haven't been restless have been filled with fear. What if I have a nightmare? What if I have a dream where he's alive? It will just break my heart all over again to wake up in the morning and realize he's not. It hits me every morning even without that, when I wake up. The sadness returns tenfold each day. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. Hope seems like a concept far away.

"I'll see you laugh, I'll see you smile, I'll be with you... Just for a while.

But when the morning comes, And the sun begins to rise...

I will lose you.

Because it's just a dream, When I open up my eyes, I will...

Lose you...

I used to believe in forever. But forever's too good to be true. I've hung a wish On every star It hasn't done much good so far.

I can only dream of you, Wherever you are..." - "Wherever You Are", Winnie the Pooh

I know things are going to be okay. But today is not the day.

What's kept me going is busying myself with as much as I can. Thoughts of what I'm going to do each day. I'm taking it one hour at a time at this point. It's all I can do. Just keep going. Just a little farther. The moment I stop to unwind and take a break is when I start to unravel and remember. My thoughts always drift back to the same place somehow. He's gone. What am I supposed to do now?

Perhaps this won't make any sense. And quite honestly I don't care if it doesn't make sense to anyone else, but. Somehow... I felt like Chip has given me one last hope. He left me with something, a feeling. The day after he died, I just... I felt something. Like he was telling me that things were going to be okay, and directed my thoughts to what I should do, now that he's gone.

I want a new kitten.

I'm not replacing Chip. I can never replace him. He's one of a kind, and always will be. But when one door closes, another one opens. I need something to hold. I need something tangible, that's real, to touch, and hug, and cradle, and care for. I need something that needs ME to anchor me to this world, and give me a reason to stay. I need something that can break me out of this cycle of dissociation and ground me. And caring for another life is therapeutic. It makes me feel needed. Like I have a purpose.

Everyone needs to be loved, and to give love.

You know what's wild? The other members of my household unanimously came to the same decision without me even discussing it with them. Somehow, it feels right. I get this weird feeling Chip actually... sort of pushed our thoughts towards this. I don't know why I think that? By all logic that wouldn't be possible but then again, I truly don't think Chip was an ordinary cat at this point. He was so much more.

Do you ever have a dream, and in that dream you just know something? Without knowing why? But you know it for a fact, in that weird dream-sense? For me, that's what it's like. I just know. Even if no-one else believes me on this, I just know.

I'm not great with people. But I love cats. I've always been really good at reading their body language. And I admittedly do like kids. Whenever I go to my family reunions, I always hang out with the kids, not the adults. Their energy is so fun and invigorating. There's so much life in kids, and it makes me just a little happier to spend time with them, even if I hardcore lack social skills. I might not be great around kids, but I really try. I think my cousin’s children like to spend time with me. Their mother keeps telling me so, at least.

Point is, I love that energy. I know a kitten is going to just be energy incarnate. But I think that's what I need in my life. Something to protect and love and spoil. Something to pour all of my affection and effort into. I often feel really restless. Like the life I'm living right now isn't enough. And I'm sure a kitten would more than keep me on my toes and keep me busy. I expect many sleepless nights. I expect to be woken up like 6-7 times per night, even. But you know what? That's okay. I don't mind at all.

I got to play with some of the cats that my relatives have last time I was there and it just reminded me... how long it's been since I've played with a cat like that. My cat was too old to want to play (and I didn't want to cause him issues, he had a heart murmur and so I also didn't want to get him too excited in his old age because oh dear), so I've missed being able to manipulate toys into being a cat's "prey" and lazer pointers and have cats go nuts after it. I've really missed that. So having a kitten that loves to play? Sign me the heck up.

There's a lot of things I wanted to do with my cat, but he was just too old.

You see, I was only 6 when I got my cat. So I was a kid. And I didn't really get to like... spend money on spoiling my cat because at that age it's not like I had money? Once I turned around 20 or so I started really wanting to buy things for my cat, and show him how much I loved him by getting him nice things and toys and a cat tree and all sorts of other things. But he didn't really... like most of what I got him. And it really made me feel frustrated and sad and disappointed because I really wanted to show him how much he meant to me. But at the same time I was afraid of getting him anything because he wouldn't use most of what I'd spent my precious money on. Money doesn't grow on trees.

I understand, he was old by the time I actually had money to do things for him with. But that's all the more reason why a kitten really excites me. That dang lazer pointer I bought? I bet a kitten would love that! (I mean dang I even... bought one that has a USB stick on the end so you can recharge it because I really wanted it to last. Chip was super apathetic to the lazer pointer for the most part.) I wonder if a kitten would like that catnip treat I bought from Jackson Galaxy's shop? (In case you don't know who Jackson Galaxy is, he's a cat behaviorist and honestly knows so much about cats and their behaviors and he very clearly has a passion and great love for feline friends.)

Also that fun little cat tunnel I got my cat. He hated it. I thought he'd really like it because he liked small spaces (I used to have little boxes set up for him because of this) and also he really liked sitting on crinkly / noise-making things like plastic bags and the inside of this tunnel was super crinkly sounding. So I thought it'd be perfect. But he hecking hated that cat tunnel to the point where I almost threw it away because he would avoid it with a passion.

But I bet a kitten would love it. And that cat tree I bought! And I'm gonna get a nice squishy soft bed for him too when I get him since we buried Chip with his bed. And just. Something colorful! And lots of little toys and things! My head fills with so many ideas and plans and things I've got to prepare for for the arrival of a new kitten. I don't have one yet, but I'll get one soon.

It's the only thing right now that fills my heart with hope, and love. I want to take a new life in with me, and care for this new life to the best of my ability, and love him with all my heart. I'm gonna spoil him in toys and fun things and shower him with as much time and affection as I can. I need this. I need something to love and hold and care for. I have some really strong protective instincts, so nurturing something else - it's really therapeutic to me on so many levels.

We're going to get another black cat, just like Chip. I'm not superstitious really, but. You know what I personally think? That black cats bring you GOOD luck instead of bad luck. You're blessed by their presence when they're in your life. It's when they LEAVE you that the bad luck comes rolling in. That's why crossing a black cat's path supposedly causes you bad luck. Because now they're gone.

Plus, cats actually purr at a frequency that's been proven to heal bones and soothe. That's why cats make a really good companion for people dealing with depression, to be honest. And heck knows I have a broken heart that needs mending.

"Everything's gonna be alright, Everything's gonna be okay. It's gonna be a good, good life." - Bebe Rexha, "I'm A Mess"

#crepuscular #personal #this is a long post #but it's important

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eliserunsboston · 5 years

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Solo Trip to Ireland

I took a leap of faith on a solo trip to Ireland. What I uncovered was more faith and courage in myself, an awakened creative side, many, many new friends around the world, and my Irish roots. We really are a lucky bunch.

“May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. May the rains fall soft upon your fields, and until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.” – Irish Blessing

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Day 1 of 10 | Dublin, Ireland Trinity Library and the Book of Kells Learned so much of Ireland’s monastic history, the vikings not so great tales and how this place came to be. #eatprayguinness #ireland #canigetabook

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Day 2 of 10 | Dublin, Ireland. Temple Bar and Jameson Distillery Tour. “Sine Metu” Without Fear is on the label of their whiskey bottles and speaks to their history as a company trying to make it in a war-torn time, overcoming a lot of obstacles to follow their passions and succeed. That hit me hard, and spoke to a lot to the reservations I had leading up to that day. Fear puts up a lot of doubt, but it’s pushing through that that leads to great experiences. I wouldn’t have made all of these great connections. Met people from Germany, the Netherlands, Serbia, Canada, Chicago, San Diego, UCLA (my Alma mater!) and New Jersey during and after the Jameson Tour (also our tour guide looked like Harry Potter). Jameson bringing people together. And more importantly we wouldn’t have Jameson. 🙂 #eatprayguinness #slainte Sign reads: Everyone who passes through this door brings happiness. Some Some by entering. Some by leaving. Photo credit 📷: to my new Canadian friend I met at the Jameson Tour! Also shoutout to my new UK friend that said my backpack made me look like a #ghostbuster. Forever friends we will be. #eatprayjameson (Also some art market wanderings before getting to Jameson)

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Day 3 of 10 | Rental Car, Galway, Quays Bar (Pronounced Keys) Oh hey, Galway, I see you. Took 2 hours at the rental car facility to get my rental car 🚗, but was able to book my BnBs in line 🙌🏻. Was given this gem that helped me navigate left side (strong side) driving and made it to Galway! Early morning run with the one and only @clvshrpr last day in Dublin! She taught me to look left. (No, right?) Met teachers and peripherally the owner of the fish and chips place McDonagh’s via said teachers. And met such warm, lovely people, my Galway family mum and dad @marilynmcnamaraadams @eadams431 Love you guys! Thanks for taking me under your wings. Photo credit 📷: @eadams431 look at his stuff! AND a bridal party rolled in. I love me a good wedding 💕🌻 (Backpack appearance once again)

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Day 4 of 10 | Parkmore and Kinvara | Morning Run 🏃🏼‍♀️ with the sheep to the water, but more like the sheep running away from me 🐑(let me love you!) Thinking about scoping out places for @novemberproject Ireland. #recruit #Novemberproject #Ireland #Eatprayguinness #swim

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Day 5 of 10 | Cliffs of Moher and Doolin | Spent all day at the Cliffs of Moher soaking in the sunshine ☀️ #eatprayguinness #ireland

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Fill in blanks | Ireland Testing 1, 2, 3… #eatprayguinness #ireland #draw

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Day 6 of 10 | Ireland’s highest peak Devil’s Ladder. I told Eugenio I wanted to hike. He chose the highest peak, claiming it wasn’t that high. One Devil’s Ladder later. Never know what you’re capable of until you do it. Thanks for making me reach higher, Entrenador. #bigbroisintown #neverstopexploring #novemberproject @novemberproject @novemberprojectbos @poleary87 Did you run up this? #hiking View is higher up here Scrambling photo 📷: Eugenio #eatprayguinness

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Day 6 of 10 (cont) | Killarney | Ross Castle at Sunset. Skipping rocks reliving our childhood. Moving in. Hope that’s cool. #Ireland #castles #househunters #eatprayguinness #killarneynationalpark

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Day 6 of 10 (cont) | Killarney | Ross Castle at Sunset. Skipping rocks reliving our childhood. Moving in. Hope that’s cool. #Ireland #castles #househunters #eatprayguinness #killarneynationalpark

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Day 7 of 10 (cont.) | Dingle | Peaceful Dingle. Monastic sites, a Thomas Kinkade-esque pastoral countryside and Star Wars filmed nearby #eatprayguinness

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Day 8 of 10 | Cobh , Cork, Blarney, Kilkenney | Found my family crest which means “Champion” or “Strength” and that we had a few Gaelic footballers and orators in our family history. At Blarney Castle met my favorite traveler to date, Jodi Savage, who let me sit below the Blarney Stone with him to blow it a kiss as neither of us needed the gift of gab. He made jokes while we waited for his wife to come down from the castle. On to Kilkenney where Gaelic Football memorabilia was everywhere. #eatprayguinness #savage

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Day 8 of 10 | Kinsale the town of many colors for daydreamers and coffee-sippers and word-lovers #reading books #travel #eatprayguinness #usedbooks #bringabookgetabook

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Tiny painted houses #Ireland #eatprayguinness #murphy #paddy

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Days 9 and 10 | Wicklow, Dublin | The views though. #sheep #eatprayguinness Tried to take the sheep home with me but TSA wouldn’t let me past the gate. I’ll be back! | “And be one traveler, long I stood…Two roads diverged in a wood and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” – Robert Frost

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County Clare Cliffs of Moher | That’s me! Photo 📷: Another traveler #cliffsofmoher #ireland #drawing First semi-solo trip in the books. Will miss this, Ireland. You gave me all the beauty and all the feels and opened up a beautiful, new world. 🌍 #eatprayguinness

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Luck of the Irish 🍀 Discovered this little clover before I took a leap of faith on a solo trip to Ireland. Found my Irish roots, found old friends (shoutout to HS cross country coach’s daughter in Dublin!), met new travel companions and places off the beaten path, hiked the tallest peak, drew for hours, chased sheep, poured Guinness, ran along the water’s edge, and re-awoke my creative side. More than luck, I gained courage and faith in myself. Watch out, 🗺. I got a backpack on and I’m coming for you. #EatPrayGuinness Hashtag Credit all goes to the ever-clever: @sarahlemz16

A post shared by EliseKovi (@elisekovi) on Jul 19, 2018 at 2:37pm PDT

Solo Trip to Ireland was originally published on Elise Kovi

#Ireland

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thewarriorandtheking · 6 years

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5. A Hard Parting

The second morning after Thorin learned the secrets of his map he and his company were in the courtyard of Rivendell readying to leave in the pre-dawn light. The Elves had provided them with provisions and supplies, the Dwarves were busy making sure everything was properly secured and the ponies ready for the journey over the mountains. Gandalf was there on his horse who had found his way to Rivendell after the wizard had set him loose before taking the Hidden Path. Thorin hesitated to give the word to move out, repeatedly looking around for Kaylea Wolf. She had told him she would accompany them but he had not seen her since the evening on the gallery. He breathed a long sigh of relief when at last he saw her come up the side path on her black horse wearing her travelling clothes, her wolf trailing behind. He felt a surge of pride to see she was still wearing the beads he had given her in her hair.

Gandalf cleared his throat and looked somewhat disapprovingly at Thorin. “Can we set out now?”

Thorin nodded and Gandalf at once led the company to the road out of the valley. Kaylea held up her horse to ride at the back, as she had before. Thorin also stayed his pony to ride just in front of her.

“I am glad you are joining us, my lady,” he told her, looking back with a smile. Kaylea nodded and smiled back but said nothing.

The company turned north at the Ford of Bruinen and began to travel up gradually into the mountains by winding paths. The day began with sunshine but about midday clouds moved over them, threatening rain. By some luck the rain never came and the day passed uneventfully. The sun had just set when the company stopped for the night. Kaylea had disappeared again sometime in the afternoon, Thorin had looked back and she was gone. The Dwarves had some dinner and set a watch. They had heard no sign of pursuit but it was best to be careful in these empty lands. Thorin was restless and paced about until the middle of the night before he finally threw himself down and wrapped himself in a blanket.

The sky was just turning grey with the coming dawn when Thorin awoke. He sat up and looked around, all his companions were all asleep except Gloin, smoking his pipe by the fire. Looking to the east he saw Kaylea’s big black horse through the trees grazing. He got up quietly and headed towards the horse, smoothing his garments and quickly running his fingers through his hair. He saw a fire ahead and found Kaylea sitting beside it, mending her horse’s tack. She looked up as he approached.

“Good morning, my lady,” Thorin said, bowing slightly. “I thought you said you would ride with us, but you seem to prefer your own company.”

“Just looking ahead, my lord,” Kaylea replied. She set her mending aside and motioned for him to sit beside the fire. “Would you like some coffee?”

Thorin nodded, Kaylea reached into her saddle bag producing a flat disc of metal that transformed into a tall cup with the flick of her wrist. She poured him some coffee from a sort of kettle sitting near the fire and sat back down to take up her mending again. Thorin sipped at the coffee, it was very strong and had a slight flavor of cinnamon. Just the smell of it made him feel awake and refreshed. The two of them sat without speaking for a time as the eastern sky turned pink. Kaylea finished her task and set the tack aside. She rose to refill their cups.

“This is very good,” Thorin said, looking slyly up at her. “One day I must visit your land. A place of good coffee, strong medicines, unbelievable weapons…and beautiful women.”

Kaylea chuckled as she sat down next to him. Thorin looked at her searchingly, suddenly feeling the time they would have together was now very short.

“My lady, may I speak plainly?”

She turned to face him. “I would prefer you always speak plainly to me, my lord. But allow me to speak first.” Thorin nodded, motioning her to continue. “We are both soon to embark on difficult and dangerous tasks. I have found it best to undertake such quests with a clear and focused mind. I feel the affection that has grown between us the same as you do, but let us not speak of it until we have passed through these dangers we will soon confront.”

Thorin stared at her. This was the first time she had spoken openly of her feelings for him. “Perhaps this is something your people can do,” he replied. ”Put your feelings away until it is convenient to bring them out. Dwarves feel too strongly for that! My lady, if we are never to see each other again then now is the time to speak, not to stay silent!”

Kaylea shook her head. “I do not agree, my lord,” she said. “In matters of the heart words spoken in haste may soon be regretted. One must be sure, and that takes time. This is not a conversation we should have right now.”

Thorin was on his feet. “My lady, it will tear my heart asunder to be parted from you!” He shook his head, looking up at her. “If you are asking me to forget you, I cannot do it!”

“I am not asking that, my lord,” Kaylea replied softly. She shifted closer to him, placing a hand on his arm. “I am asking you to put aside this conversation for another time. There are many things that need to be said between us.” Kaylea paused, drawing a long breath. “There is so much you do not know about me.”

Thorin shook his head and sat back down, resigned. He reached and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “I know you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, my lady,” his eyes came up to meet hers.

“Ah, there you are!” It was Gandalf, appearing suddenly out of the trees, Dwalin just behind him. “My lady, I hope your absence yesterday means you were scouting the paths to the passes.”

“I was indeed,” Kaylea answered rising, suddenly all business. “The bad news is the closer routes are impassible, you must take the high pass.” She and Gandalf moved off, discussing various routes through the mountains. Dwalin had a number of questions for Thorin, as they began walking toward the dwarves’ camp for breakfast Thorin felt that he really just might pull his hair out. He envied Kaylea’s seeming ability to just put one thing aside to focus on something else, he did not have her skill at it.

The day passed in much the same way as the day before, except it rained on the company and everyone was miserable. Kaylea followed behind once again, but did not disappear as she had the day before. The weather seemed to have no effect on her, she rode tall in her saddle as always. When they stopped for the night she made her camp a distance from the dwarves but came over to join them for dinner. The rain had finally stopped and the dwarves brought out their instruments after dinner for a bit of song and merriment. After much pleading from the Dwarves Kaylea sang a song from her country in her clear, strong voice. A sweet and funny song about a man romancing an innkeeper’s daughter. The Dwarves liked it very much and made her repeat it several times to make sure they had the words. Bofur was just giving his rendition of it when Kaylea’s wolf trotted into the firelight and looked meaningfully at her. Kaylea picked up her weapons and made to follow him. Gandalf and Thorin were both at her side immediately.

“What is it?” Thorin asked.

“It may be nothing,” Kaylea answered. “I will let you know.” With that she followed her wolf into the trees and they soon heard the soft hoofbeats of her horse moving away. Thorin silently cursed himself for not insisting she take him with her. Kaylea did not reappear until the next morning as the company was finishing breakfast and getting ready to move.

“What news, my lady?” Thorin asked as she swung off her horse. Gandalf had also come close to hear her reply.

“Just some wild wolves,” she replied. “Not servants of the enemy, I believe.”

Gandalf looked skeptical. “Just because they are not in his service does not mean they cannot pass on what they see to others that may be.” He looked at Thorin. “We must move quickly and not stop until the light is quite gone this evening.”

As Kaylea took her accustomed place at the back of the company Thorin wondered not for the first time about her and her horse. He had already decided that she must be like the Elves and sleep not at all or very little, but he did not know there were horses that also needed no rest. He wished she would tell him more about where she came from.

On the third night out from Rivendell the company travelled until almost dark. Kaylea ate dinner with the Dwarves, and when the meal was over she rose and excused herself.

“I must leave soon to make my rendezvous with the Rangers,” she said. “I thank you all for allowing me to join your company.” She bowed to all of them. “Good luck on your quest!”

The Dwarves all quickly rose and bowed back, imploring her to stay. But Kaylea shook her head, her eyes on Thorin. “I wish you all success on your quest but I must travel a different path now. Farewell!” She turned and headed to where she had tethered her horse, apart from the company beyond some trees and rocks. Thorin rose to follow her and Dwalin and Fili would have gone too, but Balin put a hand on his brother’s arm.

“Let him have a moment,” he said quietly. “This will be a hard parting for him, harder than it is for the rest of us.”

Thorin found Kaylea had her horse already saddled and waiting. She was tightening the girth and securing her weapons and gear. She turned to face him as he came up.

“My lady, will you not come with us? With me?” Thorin asked softly, looking up at her. Kaylea smiled and shook her head.

“I wish I could. Slaying a dragon and seeing the fabled glories of Erebor sounds like much more fun than hunting orcs and Necromancers. But I have my task, and you have yours.” They stood looking at each other for a moment. Kaylea turned as if she had just thought of something and pulled a flask from her saddlebag. “Let us drink a parting toast. Success for both our quests!”

The cap of her flask transformed into two metal cups cleverly fitted together, she handed one to Thorin and filled them both. They clicked the cups together and drank. Thorin found the liquor smooth and warming, indeed he had never tasted better.

“That is good,” he remarked, looking at the empty cup. Kaylea smiled and filled the cups again. After the second toast was drunk Kaylea fitted the cap together and sealed her flask. She and Thorin looked at each other in the twilight, they knew the time to part had come but still they hesitated. There was so much unspoken between them, a gulf neither seemed able to find their way across. Kaylea stepped before him and rested her hand on Thorin’s shoulder.

“Take care, my lord” she said softly. Thorin put his hand on hers, he took it and kissed her palm, then held it against his face.

“You also, my lady,” he said. Kaylea had not moved, or pulled her hand away. Her face softened and she started to speak but Thorin moved forward and reached up, pulling her mouth down to his. The touch of her lips was like fire moving down through his body, her mouth tasted of the liquor they had shared, warm and sweet. Thorin felt intimately conscious of her body under her clothes, lithe and lean. He knew he would never feel complete again without her in his arms. How long their kiss lasted neither later remembered, moments that lingered in the memory like hours.

“I have been wanting to do that since I first laid eyes on you,” Thorin said quietly, smiling, his arms around her waist holding her close against him. He was fighting the urge to reach for the laces of her tunic.

Kaylea smiled back at him. “I have been wondering how that beard would feel,” she said, tracing his jaw with her thumb. Then she pulled him close and kissed him again. Kaylea was surprised how good it felt to kiss Thorin, the earthy, warm taste of him. Like rain on hot earth, his rich, exotic smell of frankincense and vetiver. She could plainly feel his passion and for a moment almost lost herself to it, enjoying how right it felt to relax into his arms. Thorin’s hands traveled over her body, one reached under her tunic to touch the skin of her back. The soft touch of his hand on her skin was electric, awakening her whole body. Kaylea knew Thorin could feel it but it also brought her back to the present She reminded herself this was not the plan. After a long moment Kaylea drew back, taking a long breath.

As she stepped away from him Kaylea held out her flask with a smile like the dawn breaking. “You hold on to this, my lord” she said. “When this is all over we will finish it in Erebor.”

Thorin took it, and held it against his chest. “In Erebor,” he replied thoughtfully, trying to gather his thoughts. “For many years my heart has dwelled there.” He looked up at Kaylea. “Now it belongs to you, my lady.”

“Speak no more words you may later regret, my lord,” Kaylea replied softly as she reached for the reins of her horse. “Let us turn our minds to the tasks before us.” She bowed low to him and then swung up into her saddle. “If the Fates smile on us we will see each other again in Erebor.”

Thorin bowed to her. “I regret nothing,” he said, then watched as she disappeared into the night without a backward glance. Her big wolf hesitated giving him a hard stare, then followed.

Thorin sat down heavily, his body still vibrating from having Kaylea in his arms, the way her body felt against him, the taste of her mouth. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his disordered mind. Kaylea had torn his heart asunder, one part of him desperately wished he had gone with her and it was taking a huge mental effort to remain where he was and not follow her. But he could not forsake his own quest that he had dreamed of for so long, or his friends who trusted him. The fear he might never see her again was so intense it felt as though it would crush him, at the same time his heart leaped with joy to finally know for certain she felt the same as he did. After that kiss there could be no question.

But would she survive to meet him in Erebor? For that matter, would he make it through his own quest? He did not yet know all the dangers he would face, he knew a dragon was only one of them. And even if they came through these trials to meet again at the Lonely Mountain, what then? Thorin knew he loved her and wanted to make her his wife, but she had already told him she would not be a queen. He knew it was possible someone waited for her in her own country, it was a question he had not yet dared to ask, fearing the answer. He simply had to find some way to convince her to stay, he could not live without her.

He turned the flask she had given him over in his hands, trying to take some comfort from her parting words. Yes, they would finish it together in Erebor, and also what had been started with that kiss. The flask was wrapped in a scarf, black like everything Kaylea wore, with some kind of pattern on it. Holding it to his nose he could smell her scent, desert cinnamon, sage and the shade of pines. Closing his eyes he imagined her in his arms again, the feel of her body against him, the taste of her lips.

Balin and Dwalin found Thorin still sitting there an hour later when they came to check on him.

“So, she is gone then,” Balin said. Thorin nodded. “Well, if you couldn’t convince her to stay, it couldn’t be done.” Thorin looked quickly at him, frowning.

“She has only ever had eyes for you, laddie,” Balin said with a smile. “It’s not like that’s a secret.”

Thorin sighed. “I suppose not,” he said, rising to his feet. “Yet I have a feeling we may see her again before this is all over.”

“I very much hope you are right!” Balin exclaimed. “She will be a welcome ally, and I am sure we will be in for a fight before the end.”

#fanfic #tolkien fanfic #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x oc #fan fiction #thorin #hobbit movies #thorin love story #lord of the rings #thorin fanfic #original female character #thewarriorandtheking

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echelonlab-blog · 6 years

Text

One Night

by @myxtina

Warning: Explicit content

Maggie couldn’t believe her luck. Trapped and with all people, Jared Leto. She had read stories of what a jerk he was but so far he had not spoken a word. Which was fine with her, she had to figure something out. When her friend Amanda offered to let her stay at her lake house, she thought she had been given the perfect retreat spot. Little did she know her friend had forgotten she had offered the house to someone else for the same weekend. And now they were stuck for goodness knows how long. Next time she decided to take a retreat, she would do it in the city where things like rock slides don’t take out roads..

Well I guess I will make the best out of a awkward situation. He was standing by the window messing with his phone. “So, are you having any luck in the phone department?’ I asked. He turned to me and all I got was “No!” I gave him a cold look and turned and walked away. What a dick.. I walked into the kitchen to see what kind of food Amanda had stocked it with. As I was looking through the fridge I felt someone behind me, I turned and there he was right behind me.. “Jesus, you scared to shit out of me.” I said. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. And sorry I was so short with you a minute ago. I don’t like being cut off from the outside world.” He said. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s start over. I’m Maggie.” Looking up into his eyes for the first time. They took my breathe away, it was like you could see forever. Get a grip, he is for sure not your type. I came back to reality with snapping fingers in front of my face.. “What I’m sorry.” I said.. “I was telling you my name is Jared. You ok?” he asked. “Yeah, I’m great. Nice to meet you. You hungry?” I asked him. “I could eat.” he said. We spent then next half hour picking what we wanted and sat down to eat.

After dinner we both are quiet while cleaning up.. I guess we both were trying to figure out what we were gonna do about the sleeping arrangements since there was one bedroom with only one bed. Once the kitchen was done we moved into the living room.. It has begun to rain.. “Great the rain will slow down the clean up and we will be stuck here forever.” I said. He looked at me and with that Leto charm smiled and says “Is it really that bad being stuck here with me?” I could feel the blush move across my cheeks, as I replied, “No, it’s not terrible.” As I sit looking into those blue eyes, I think if he touches me i’m gone. I look away first and try to slow my breathing so he doesn’t notice. But he does notice and reaches over and lightly trails his finger along my cheek. “you look beautiful when you blush.” he says. I look back up at him to see if he is teasing me. But the look on his face tells me he is serious. I start to reply thank you when he lowers his lips to mine.

Time seems to stand still as he kisses me. I moan slightly which gives him the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth.. He deepens the kiss pulling me closer. I slide my hand up into his hair and tug slightly trying to pull him even closer. He moans as i feel his hand move slowly up my rib cage. He reaches my left breast and cups it lightly while running his thumb over my already erect nipple. That is when my brain kicks in and screaming inside my head what are you doing? You don’t even know him. I pull back and break the kiss. He looks confused and asks “did i do something wrong?” “No,” I said “but this is moving a little fast, I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.” “Sure, I will be here.” he laughs. As I walk to the bedroom I look back and he is watching me walk away.

I lay in bed and toss and turn for hours. It has gotten quiet out in the living room I guess Jared went to sleep. I feel like such a idiot. Nothing exciting ever happens and here I am stuck with one of the sexist men alive and he kisses me and what do I do, basically tell him no to his face.What a dumb ass. I get up and sneak to the door pulling it open gently. Jared is laying on the couch not moving. I silently go to the kitchen in search of ice cream. I notice out the picture window the lightening light up the sky. I move over to get a closer look and just start to watch the beautiful display of nature. I’m not sure how long i stand and watch when I feel Jared move up behind me. I look down and think shit should have put on more clothes, just standing there in a tank top and boy shorts.

“Whats wrong? Couldn’t sleep?” he asks. “No, I came looking for ice cream.” I can almost see the cocky smile on his face as he says “are you sure it was ice cream you came looking for?” I start to come back with a smart ass remark when I think maybe he is right. Maybe I wanted him to be awake, so i decide to throw caution to the wind. You only live once right? I can feel him right behind me so I lean back against his bare chest and say “you know i have a fantasy about you?” “Really, what kind of fantasy?” he whispers in my ear. Goosebumps break out all over my body from the tone of his voice. “Well first we need music.” I say as I set my phone on the table, pull up my music app and hit play on “Dawn with Rise” one of his bands new hits. “Interesting choice” he says. I lean back against his chest again as the music starts and slowly move against him to the rhythm. I slide my left arm up behind me to touch his face as i slowly rub my ass against his semi hard dick. “I think I am gonna like this fantasy.” he whispers.

“I am not sure what you were thinking when you wrote this song, but it’s very sexual.” i say quietly. Before he can reply i take his right hand and put in on my right breast leaving my hand over his. He groans as he starts to massage my breast through my shirt. All the while I am still rubbing my body against his. I have the whole thing played out in my head, I know just when and where to move so the fantasy ends perfectly with the song. As the song progresses I take his hand that is massaging my breast and slide it down my stomach and into the top of my boy shorts. I whisper to him, “Make me cum, Sir” His intake of breathe tells me he is surprised by my words. I am thinking is it the Sir part. He slips his fingers lower to the wet folds of my pussy. “Your so wet. Is that for me?” he asks. “Yes, Sir.” I moan. He growls and pushes further until he reaches my clit, At his touch I almost cum instantly but we haven’t reached that part of the song yet. I continue to rub against him as he strokes my clit getting me closer and closer. He can feel that I am getting close. “You ready to cum for me baby?” he asks. “Yes, Sir please may I cum for you?” He increases the motion of his hand and the song is getting close to the end.. “Please Sir?” I beg again “Can I cum?” Just as the song ends, he says “Yes, baby cum for me now!” My orgasm hits me hard and i go weak against him. He pulls his hand out of my underwear and brings his fingers to my mouth, ‘Lick yourself off my fingers!” he growls in my ear.. I eagerly take his fingers into my mouth and lick them clean.

We stand there not moving for a moment and then i reach behind me and slide my hand into his boxers and wrap my hand around his hard as a rock dick. I smile to myself and say “I can take of this if you would like?” He leans down and in a primitive voice says “Turn around and on your knees!” I immediately do as I am told. I pull down his boxers and can’t believe the size of him. He is huge. I look up and he just smiles. I think what have I gotten myself into. I lean forward and take the tip into my mouth, sucking on it gently. He moans. I start to move my mouth up and down along his shaft taking a little more of him each time i do.. The more of him i take the louder his moans get. “God, you mouth is so hot, it feels so fuckin good.” he moans out. I continue sucking him until i have taken all of him in. I stop moving and just suck on him hard. His hands move up to my hair and he tangles his finger in it. It’s my turn to moan. I start to move my mouth on him again and he asks, “don’t you have a gag reflex?” To show him my answer I bury him all the way down my throat. “Jesus” was all he said. I can feel him getting close to cuming but just before he does he pulls out of my mouth and pulls my up to where i am standing in front of him. He pulls my clothes off and says “I want to fuck you now!”

He pushes me up with my back against the window slides on a condom and within seconds thrusts deeply into my dripping wet pussy. “Oh god” I cry out. he waits before he starts to move and asks “Are you ok?” “Yes, fuck me please” with out a word he starts thrusting in and out of me. He wraps his fingers around my throat and starts to kiss me as he fucks me hard against the window. I wrap my arms around his back. He feels so fucking good. I moan in his ear how good he feels.. He groans and tightens his grip on my throat. I am going to cum again. I ask him if I can please cum for him again. He tells me yes, and i scream out as waves of pleasure hit me.. As I am coming down off my orgasm, he pulls out and flips me around so now i am facing the window. Without missing a beat he pushes back into to me and fucks me hard from behind.. I can’t get over how good his dick feels slamming in and out of me.. He brings both of his hand around me and grabs each one of my tits as he fucks me.. pinching and pulling hard on my nipples.. I moan loudly which seems to push him harder.. He is fucking me so hard I am afraid we are going to break the window,, I can feel another orgasm coming on me. He must feel it as well and says “Come on baby, you gonna give daddy another one?” I cry out “Yes, please.” He responds “Come on baby and we will cum together!” It hits us both at the same time.. I scream his name and as he cums he bites my shoulder hard..

We stand there a few moments and then he turns me around and kisses me like I have never been kissed before. He turns to walk away and pulls me behind him and says “Let’s clean up and go to sleep. You have wore me out” I follow along behind him into the bedroom.. We head to the bathroom for a quick shower.. Once we have dried off we climb into bed together and he pulls me close as I rest my head on his shoulder. Soon we are both asleep. I wake up periodically through the night and can’t believe I am sleeping next to him.. He looks so peaceful in his sleep. I like him this way, I watch him sleep for a while and eventually drift off to sleep.

Sunlight coming through the curtains wake me the next morning. The bed next to me is empty, I figure Jared is in the bathroom, but as i enter I see it is empty. I pull on a t-shirt and wander into the living room. No Jared. He isn’t in the kitchen either. I see a note propped on the kitchen table. I pick it up and my stomach drops as I read it, “They cleared the road, we are free. J” I look around and notice all his stuff is gone. I can’t believe he would just leave like that after the night before. Maybe he just ran to the store. But as I sit and wait, it becomes apparent he isn’t coming back. Well at least I had him for one night. A night I wouldn’t trade for anything. A night full of memories that will last a lifetime.

Fanfic.

#writing prompt: love bites #jared leto fanfiction #myxtina #submission

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thenovelartist · 6 years

Text

The Love of a Cat, Prologue

Next>>

~ AO3 ~ FanFiction ~ Support me on Ko-Fi ~

Marinette pulled her cloak closer in a vain attempt to block the biting chill of the wind. She clutched the empty bread basket, holding it tightly as she picked up her pace. Her deliveries were done, thankfully. She was half frozen and ready to get home.

Another blast of icy air brought a waft of smoke with it. Marinette crinkled her nose against the thick smell. She was a baker’s daughter; she was used to the smell of fire and flames, but the stench of war was not something she ever wanted to grow accustomed to.

No one knew the full extent of why the war began. Rumors claimed that a king of the kingdom north of their own wanted to take over their land. Then the rumors deviated into a million different speculations as to why. But the why didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were at war, sad as that was.

The wind picked up, howling as it tore through the streets. It sent Marinette shivering, tugging her cloak tighter. That chilling wind could only mean an oncoming storm. Snow, likely, considering winter was right around the corner.

A hoarse cough filled the air, calling the young woman’s attention. Marinette turned to the sound, spying the village cripple sitting huddled in an alley. He was a kind man, a helpful man, just not one that could do hard labor. His worn-thin jacket was pressed against his small frame, as if that could block out the cold.

Marinette was always known for her kind heart, and she couldn’t help her urge to do something. She fingered her cloak before taking it off, doing her best to refrain from shivering in the process, and walked over to the gray-haired man. “Mister Fu.”

The small man looked up to her, and his smile grew wide enough to reach his eyes. “Miss Marinette. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

With a smile, she offered the cloak to him. “Here. It’s far too cold out right now.”

Mister Fu frowned. “But what about you?”

“I’ll be all right. I was on my way home, and I have another cloak.” She lied, but she had enough money to go buy the fabric for another. Mister Fu had nothing. The choice was simple.

He smiled appreciatively before taking the cloak. “Miss, you have done so very much for me. You and your family over time.”

“You have pulled your fair share.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t believe I have. You have given me more bread than is worth my services.”

“But you can’t put a price on saving my papa’s life,” she countered.

Mister Fu smiled then pulled the cloak around himself. “I know very well you do not have a cloak at home nor is your house very close. You have given me more than I have given to you. So please, allow me to even my debt.”

“Really, there’s no need.”

“Yes, Miss Marinette,” he interrupted. “There very much is.” With that, he pulled a small octagonal box out of his trousers’ pocket and presented it to her.

Marinette looked at the pretty box, black with ornate red decoration, before pushing it back to him. “Mister Fu, I cannot take that.”

He simply put the box into her hand and closed her fingers around it. “Yes, you can. I insist. You above everyone else in the village deserve this. A gift for a gift,” he said, motioning to the box, then her cloak.

“But my cloak isn’t even worth—”

“Marinette.”

His eyes were firm, his grasp on her hands steady. And Marinette realized that he was not going to let her refuse. “All right,” she relented. “If you insist. Thank you.”

“No,” he said, pulling the cloak around him tighter. “Thank you.”

She nodded, said her goodbye, then began on her way again. But not before a blast of chilling air blew straight past her winter shirt and to her skin. No matter how hard she tried to fight it, it sent her shivering. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her arms as gooseflesh rose up on her skin. Her teeth began chattering, but she clenched her jaw shut to prevent it. She wished she had her cloak, but shook her thoughts away. She had a home. Mister Fu did not. He needed that cloak far more than she did.

The sound of horse hooves drummed up behind her. She slid farther over on the pathway out of habit, waiting for the rider to pass by. Instead, the rider slowed beside her. “Miss?”

She looked up to see a young man with gold hair and a kind smile tugging his own cloak off to extend to her.

It took her likely far too long to realize who this man was.

“Your royal highness.” Immediately, she dipped to curtsy.

“No, no. Please, miss, none of that.” He slid off his now-still horse, touching the ground as the girl looked up to him.

He held out his hand, nervousness now on his face instead of the smile. “Please, rise, miss.”

She did as asked, not daring to touch him despite his extended hand.

His smile returning, he extended the cloak to her. “Here. As a replacement for the one you gave the old man.”

She shook her head. “No, your highness. I couldn’t possibly—”

“Please,” he said, not taking no for an answer as he slipped the dark cloak over her shoulders. “I insist.”

Marinette was at a complete loss for words as she felt the heavy fabric drape over her shoulders.

“I like repaying kindness when I see it,” was all he said.

“Then please,” she said, grabbing at the cloak from her shoulders, “Give this to Mister Fu. It’s far warmer than mine. He saved my father once, so—”

“Then I will take care of him,” the prince promised, sliding the cloak back up over her and holding it closed so she couldn’t take it off. “Keep this. You are shivering and it’s far too cold for anyone, nevertheless a lovely young lady, to be out without a cloak.”

She blushed, all the while chastising herself for doing so. Her eyes sank to the ground because she couldn’t keep looking at his gorgeous green eyes that were so gentle and caring. “Then I thank you so very much for your kindness, your highness. I don’t deserve it.”

“On the contrary. I very much believe you do.” He smiled—not that she saw—and let his hands fall away. She raised her head only to see him mounting his white steed. “Good day, miss…” he trailed off, searching for her name.

“Marinette. Marinette Dupain.”

“Marinette.” She tried to stay steady at the reverent way he said her name, but she, admittedly, got a bit weak-kneed. “Pleasure to meet you. But for now, I must bid you good day.”

“The pleasure has been mine, your highness.”

With a nod and a smile that would forever burn its way into her memory, he left back down the road.

She further adjusted the long cloak around her, feeling warm from head to toe, but how much of that was the cloak and how much of that was her being an infatuated young girl was difficult to discern. She pulled the cloak upwards so that the hem of the wonderfully thick material didn’t touch the ground. She’d surely treasure it for as long as it lasted, and that meant ensuring she took care that it didn’t rub against the ground. After all, she had just been gifted by none other than the crown prince.

Giggling giddily, she forced herself to walk home faster. Oh, she felt so stupid, but it seemed every rumor that she ever heard about his looks were true. He was so handsome, and he happened to have a kind and sincere heart. Surely, no one could blame her for her infatuation.

Surely not.

…

Prince Adrien snuck one last glance at the pretty young lady walking down the road. Such a kind heart, refusing the gift of a prince so that he might give it to a homeless man. He admired that; he really did.

He felt the cold nip at him now that he didn’t have his cloak, but he saw the way she was shivering. He had another one to replace it and could buy ten more later. It was hardly a loss for him. Not like hers had been.

True selflessness. He hadn’t seen that in far too long.

He stopped his horse by the man who was now wrapped in her cloak. Adrien dismounted his horse, looking down to the man that was smiling up at him.

“That was a very generous thing for you to do to.”

“She was the generous one,” Adrien returned.

The man chuckled. “She very much is. Her and her family.”

Fondly, he glanced down the road, but she was only a speck in the distance now. “She mentioned that you did something to for her father.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Dupain. Very generous man. Would offer me a bit of work in his bakery in exchange for some bread. He grew very ill two years ago. Broke his arm and grew sick because the town doctor didn’t set it properly. I know healing very well and was able to help them in return for what they’ve done for me.”

Adrien frowned. “If you are skilled as you let on, then how can you not find work?”

The man pulled out his cane, but Adrien was quicker and helped the man stand up. He grinned in thanks before pointing to the leg that was twisted at an awkward angle. “I was a skilled healer, but people today have bitter hearts. They seem to forget that a healer occasionally needs a healer too.”

Adrien looked down at the man’s leg, wondering just how he could—

“Now, I know what you’re thinking, young man. I appreciate you thinking of a job for me, but I know I could find something near the battlefield up north. That is where you and your squadron are headed, no?” The man used his cane to gesture at the boarding house across the street.

Adrien didn’t turn. “Yes. We are going to assist our troops.”

The man nodded. “Then you are going to need all the luck you can get. It is brutal up there. The man held out a little box for him. Black, octagonal, red design painted on top. “In return for your kindness to Marinette.”

“Sir, I will not take anything from you.”

The man’s smile widened. “Then I tell you what. In exchange for some coins so that I may buy a trip back to the southern part of the kingdom, where I was born and raised as a boy, I will give you this box and the lucky charm inside of it. Would that be agreeable?”

“I’ll give you the coin to do so. I will not take—”

“And I will not take your coin without knowing I did something for you. Take this. For luck.”

Adrien looked at the box, taking it in exchange for far more than it was worth. The man seemed to know that, but thankfully didn’t question the determined look of the prince. “Thank you, young man. You are a fine prince, and will turn into a good king. And I do not say that because of what you gave me, but because of the heart behind it. You are deserving of your lucky charm.” The man’s eyes seemed to twinkle in amusement.

“Thank you, sir. I’m honored at your praise.”

“I wish you the best of luck on the battle field. It wouldn’t do if your kingdom lost such a fine prince.” The man stroked his little beard. “By the way, do you know why we are at war?”

The prince shook his head. “Not for certain, but I think the king believes that we have something that belongs to him. He’s willing to take us over to find these items.”

The man nodded solemnly. “Then I hope for your sake that he never gets his hands on them, no matter how the war turns out.”

“I hope the war gets called off before then.”

“Yes, I hope so, too. Now, you best get back to your squadron. They seem impatient for you to return.”

Adrien nodded. “Thank you, sir. I wish you a good day and safe travels.”

“You will need it more than I,” he returned.

Adrien didn’t doubt that. With a nod, Adrien left back to his group.

“What took you?” One of his men asked.

“I was busy attending to my duties as a prince,” Adrien answered curtly.

“Helping old men?” another man jabbed.

“The pretty lady I could see,” said yet another, “make anyone a good night.”

The approving whoops in the group were quickly silenced by an angry prince.

“Next man to make a crass comment like that will be stripped of his knighthood and drafted to the front line as a solider. Am I clear?”

The silence was overwhelming.

“Good. Now mount up and move out.”

The men did as asked before falling in line behind the prince. The chatter among them was quiet and exclusive, not that Adrien minded. He was barely acquaintances with these men his father had gathered. Furthermore, he was used to being left out, and considering what the men were likely chattering about, he almost preferred being left alone.

For not the first time, he wished Nino could have accompanied him, but Adrien refused to let him tag along with his broken leg. Nino could heal and join them when he was ready.

In his silence leading the troop, Adrien pulled out the little box gifted to him. His lucky charm. Opening it, his eyes widened at the brilliant black metal ring embedded with emerald chips.

It seemed that he paid what fine jewelry like this was worth.

He slipped it on his finger, finding it happened to fit perfectly. Maybe it would be lucky, or maybe it was a just a myth. Either way, considering the war they were riding into, Adrien would take all the luck he could get.

#The Love of a Cat #novel #fanfiction #AU #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette

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