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booksforevermore13 · 3 years

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Nine days (at long last)

Summary: Harry wants to propose to Ginny, but it turns out to be a lot harder than he thought. In the end, it takes nine days.

A/N: Huge, huge thanks to my awesome teammates Autumn, Ashleigh and Hannah for looking through the fic! I had a lot of fun writing this (after ditching another one I wrote) but in the end, I'm glad it turned out okay! Read it on Fanfiction or AO3 if you prefer!

...

"Mate, if you're waiting for the right moment, this is it."

"I know."

"Like, now."

"I know."

"She's looking at you, mate."

"I know."

"It's now or never."

"I know," Harry hissed, glaring at Ron. Consciously, he glanced at her again, standing between Bill and George and laughing as George spoke, and, if he hadn't chosen today as the day he proposed, he'd have been laughing along with her. But her eyes were on him, and then not, as her gaze turned to George and she laughed and Harry found himself immediately missing her gaze.

"I know what the problem is," Ron announced and Harry looked at him, arching an eyebrow in question.

"What?"

"You," Ron pointed at him, "are going to propose to her," and then pointed at Ginny, "my sister. My only sister."

"I know who I am going to propose to, Ron. Get to the point."

"The point is that I," he declared, "am her brother. It doesn't fundamentally work for me to tell you, my best mate, to marry my only sister. That… that's like violating the brother's code."

Harry rubbed his forehead, glancing warily at the glass of whisky in Ron's hand. In the short span in which Hermione had gone to help Mrs. Weasley with the cooking, he'd downed more than he would have with her around.

"How much have you had to drink, Ron?"

"Enough to be disgusted by the two of you simply looking at each other. You act as if you've never seen her before, Merlin."

"Oh, god, Ron, she's looking at me again."

The last time he'd been this nervous was back in his sixth year and that was when he and Ron had been dolts of the highest calibre. When he looked at Ron again, he was shaking his head in exasperation.

"Yeah, why is that, Harry? Did she find out you've been staring at her for the last ten minutes?" Ron hissed and Harry glared at him.

He clearly wasn't expecting Ron to give him a sharp nudge to his ribs, and when he did, Harry found himself a lot closer to Ginny than he was before. This time, when he turned, Ron nodded excitedly at him and when he looked at Ginny again, this time, her eyes were already on him.

"Hey," he found himself saying as he walked near her. George leaned over to say something to Bill but stepped away as Ginny turned on them, and they put their hands in the air, grinning.

"Hey back," Ginny said as he neared, and if he hadn't been so secretive these last few days, he'd have thought she'd figured it out.

For a second, he wished he hadn't chosen the Burrow to be where he proposed. nine days before Christmas, too. It was a time when everyone in the family was there, and the extended family too, and the Burrow became so crammed up that they slept on the couches and conjured tents outside. Harry loved it, but given the time, it might not have been his ideal choice for a proposal.

But the Burrow was and had remained the place where he had the most good memories, the best ones, with the people he loved and who loved him back, and in the end, he'd figured this to be the right place. The best one.

"You want to say something to me, Harry?" Ginny asked, and Harry realised with a jerk that he'd been staring.

"I do." He coughed and patted his coat pocket, searching for the box. "It's uh… very important."

"Yeah?" Ginny smiled and stepped forward, putting her hands around his neck. Consciously, he could feel eyes on them, but focused on Ginny, the slight smile on her face, her flaming red hair falling in waves down her shoulder and when he looked closer, the tiny flecks of golden brown in her eyes.

Where in the bloody hell was that box?

"You look beautiful," he stammered, searching his jeans for the box. He'd told her that before, but in the heat of the moment, complimenting her was the only thing coming to mind. He checked his coat pocket again. He was sure he'd had it while talking to Ron. He'd felt it.

"Harry." He heard Ginny say his name and looked up at her to see her chuckling."What is it you want to say?"

"I… uh…"

It wasn't there. The bloody box wasn't there. Harry brought out his hands from his pocket and with one hand, brushed back some of her hair behind her ear. "It's nothing," he found himself saying. "Just uh… want you to know how much I love you."

And that if I could find that ring, I'd get down on one knee right now.

Ginny laughed and if Harry could have bottled that sound and got drunk on it every day, he would have. "Where's this coming from?"

"Nowhere," he said hurriedly. Goddamnit.

Harry could see she was trying not to laugh. "What's going on, Harry?" Ginny asked, and Harry stilled.

Should he tell her? Without the ring? Harry looked at her, taking note of every small detail, even though he'd done it a thousand times before. The sprinkle of freckles around her nose, the golden brown flecks in her eyes. Her face was so close to him that he could smell the sweet fragrance of the sherry she'd been drinking and Harry knew that if anything, she deserved a perfect proposal. So, he shook his head and waited a moment longer. Then he kissed her.

If there were any groans from the audience, he didn't notice, nor did he care about the fact that he was kissing her in front of her brothers, who'd threatened him more than once for the mere feat that was dating her. No, instead, he cupped her cheek to bring her closer, one hand lost in her hair.

When they finally broke for air, and she looked at him with that knowing smirk on her face, Harry couldn't help but kiss her again.

"Have I ever told you," he said breathlessly, "that your hair is really soft after you wash it?"

And she laughed, and Harry felt a surge of disappointment because after all the talk of right moments, he knew that if he could do it, he'd do it now.

When they finally turned, the crowd around them had left, all except for Ron looking disapprovingly at him, Hermione who'd come back during the commotion and who was now shaking her head at him in earnest, and George with a rather bored look on his face.

"I thought it was going to be interesting," he said, and then shuddered. "Instead, all we got was a very public display of affection. Merlin."

And as Ginny laughed beside him, Harry couldn't help but blush.

Try another day, it was.

…

Harry shivered as he stepped inside the Burrow. It was two in the night and the silence he entered was almost jarring. Pots clanging, Victoire crying, Teddy's excited voice from the living room, George and Ron laughing in the backyard, Ginny screaming at her brothers; it had become a comfort to hear it. Now, however, silence.

He welcomed the warm gust of air as he closed the door behind him, shrugging off his coat and jacket, keeping his boots on the mat. He'd not expected a call from the Ministry that night. Two nights before Christmas, and they'd spotted Mulciber in a Muggle village, and he'd had to go in. They'd not anticipated anyone else, but when they Apparated there Mulciber had not been alone.

"Hey," he heard a voice and turned around, a smile on his face before he even saw who it was.

Ginny was sitting on the couch, a tub of ice-cream in her hand.

"What are you doing up?"

She shrugged. "I had a very strong craving for blueberry ice-cream," Ginny said and Harry laughed.

This was not the first time he'd come back home to see her up. Harry'd never said it, but it was comforting, coming back home at three in the morning to see her licking off ice-cream right from the tub. He'd sit beside her and she'd open up a tub of chocolate and they'd eat it until it melted.

Harry sat beside her on the couch.

"How'd the mission go?"

"Rough," he replied, not bothering to lie. Ginny knew him well enough to catch his bluff.

"What happened?" she asked, and he could hear the distinct concern in her voice, the fear in her eyes.

"Nothing major. Avery was hoping for a tussle when we went in. There were a dozen of them, five of us. Took us by surprise."

He felt her still beside him and looked at her, smiling reassuringly.

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No. Bruises, stuns, splinches, nothing that'll stay."

"And you?"

"I'm fine."

She sighed, and Harry leaned against her, too awake to feel sleepy, yet completely worn out. He felt Ginny move under him and then her thumb rubbing circles on the juncture between his thumb and his index. He smiled absently, closing his eyes in comfort.

"You know," Ginny said softly, "George and I, we scrounged up a T.V today, televelly something."

"Television." Harry smiled absently. She was offering a distraction, and Harry was glad she was. He needed one.

"That," Ginny chuckled. "We fixed it. Well, Hermione did and then we found this… this… some moony…. moovyon it."

"You mean, a movie?"

"Yes, that," Ginny said indignantly and Harry laughed and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Anyway," she waved around her hands, "I found a movie on it, and it's the same as a book I read when I was young. Frankenstein."

"You've read that?"

Ginny nodded, and then got up, squeezing his hand as she did and then rummaged under the table for something. She walked behind the sofa, and hauled up a large cube like thing, covered by the black cloth. Harry watched her in confusion as she took out her wand and charmed a table mat into a socket, and then took off the black cloth.

"Wait, you really found a T.V?"

She looked at him, an eyebrow arched. "You thought I was joking?"

"No," he said, and Ginny smiled.

She rummaged around a few more minutes, conjuring up things, fixing wires into sockets and then sat down beside him, a remote in hand.

"Don't look so surprised, this is all Hermione," Ginny said and pointed to the screen "I thought this was a mirror."

Harry had to hold back a laugh before she peered at the remote and pressed a button and he whistled as the screen came to life. Ginny wiggled her eyebrows at him and then pressed a few more buttons, and as fast as the screen had lit up, a black and white series of images appeared on the screen.

"I know, I'm brilliant," Ginny said, smirking at him.

"Damn right.'

She turned her gaze to the screen and he followed her. Frankenstein. He knew the movie. He didn't like it. Harry had seen it last at the Dursleys, and he, quite frankly, hadn't been big on a movie which showed someone creating a monster and then dying at the hands of the said monster he created. It was terrifying for him.

He didn't say anything, seeing Ginny's face. She was excited and happy, and seeing her like this made it a little more bearable for him, but he was positively miffed when he saw the monster being created and right on the edge of covering his face when it killed its first victim.

It was all well and good until he saw the man talk to the creature, and that was when he knew he was done.

"Ginny," he said breathlessly, "hey, Gin?" and as Ginny turned to him, he didn't know if he should have laughed or jumped around the living room thrice.

He turned his face in embarrassment, as Ginny looked at him and promptly started laughing, her laughter echoing in the room before Harry pressed his palm on her mouth and her voice was muffled. She quieted down, but he could see her glinting in the dimming light of the fire.

"Merlin, sorry," Ginny chuckled, "I shouldn't laugh."

He tensed again as the monster in question roared.

"Gin, this movie, it's really scary, seriously," he said quickly, "but you're enjoying it so I'm trying not to cover my face the whole time, but- WHAT IS THAT?"

"It's a classic!" Ginny laughed. "Merlin, Harry, take a chance. What harm can it do?"

"Oh, I took a chance. Fifteen years ago. I don't see how people find this," he pointed at the screen, "this scary, murderous movie where everyone dies as a cinematic masterpiece."

Ginny was still laughing and Harry's ears were now a bright red, and he couldn't have been more embarrassed.

When Ginny finally switched the T.V off, he couldn't help but sigh in relief.

"How," Ginny said and he shook his head, knowing what was to come, "can a person like you, who fights Death-Eaters on a daily basis, be scared of a movie?"

Harry tapped his forehead in exasperation and Ginny laughed.

"God, you're adorable."

She leaned forward, kissing him and then moving away, but Harry held onto her waist, bringing her close to him. Perhaps now was the right time to do it, he thought. Maybe he should take out the ring now.

There were only them here, she was in his arms, he could just take out the ring and ask.

But what if it was too early? What if she said no?

Harry looked at her, and Ginny leaned forward, her hands around her neck as she kissed him and Harry wondered how long it'd take for him to gather the courage he so direly needed. In a way, this was more daunting than the monster Frankenstein had created.

But then he heard a noise, a clicking noise, and a smell of something burning, and they broke off, Harry still holding Ginny close to him, alert for any signs of danger, when they saw it.

The socket was smoking. Bloody smoking.

"Shit!" Ginny cursed, and scrambled up, Harry behind her, and before Ginny could touch anything, Harry wrenched out the socket.

"Oh, shit," Ginny repeated, seeing the blackened metal. "Oh, Merlin, no."

"There goes our Frankenstein," Harry mumbled. And my proposal.

Ginny glared at him.

…

Christmas was every bit as wonderful as he had imagined it. As he had imagined it every year. No, the right word wasn't wonderful. It was happy.

Harry, by now, was convinced that Christmas was meant for the Weasley family.

A strong gust of wind blew and he smiled as he heard Ron's voice and then a cracker burst and then Mrs. Weasley yelling.

"Hey." He heard Ginny behind him and turned.

"Hey back."

"A change of colours, I see?" Ginny asked, looking at his sweater. Consciously, he tugged at it, then looked at her.

"I think Mrs. Weasley ran out of red yarn." He smiled, brushing the golden yellow snitch on the hem of his sweater. It was blue this year, and Harry had been surprised when he'd opened the package, but it had essentially been one of the best gifts he'd got.

Ginny walked near him, slipping her hands in his. They were hands which knew how to hold on and yet simultaneously set you free.

He was going to do it.

"Gin," he started, the weight of the ring in his pocket reassuring. "I have to ask you something."

She nodded and Harry continued. "I… I love you. It's no secret. I… you are… I love you so much. It was and has always been… you." He waited, out of breath, but he wasn't going to stop.

"You love me like I'm the person who actually deserves your love."

"But you are the only one who does," Ginny said, and Harry, for a moment, couldn't help but wonder what he'd done to deserve her.

Momentarily, he looked down, taking out the box, but when he looked up again, his eyes widened. This time, Ginny was holding a box too, identical to his, and her eyes were shining.

"What… h-how?" he stammered and Ginny laughed.

"How do you think?" she said, "Didn't think I'd know you were trying to propose to me for the last nine days now, Harry, did you?"

"It was supposed to be a secret!"

Ginny laughed, and Harry laughed too, though he was a bit disgruntled by the fact that she'd known the whole time. Maybe he wasn't as smooth as he thought he was but it was a mystery to him how she had known.

"Where did you find the ring the first time you lost it, Harry?"

Harry gaped at her, and chuckled unbelievably. "How?" he said, then chuckled again. "With Teddy."

"Yes, well, he showed it to me before he gave it to you. Clearly, he knew the ring was meant for me."

This time, Harry laughed out loud, and her hand still in his, he brought her closer to him.

"And if that wasn't enough, my hair being soft essentially gave it away," she said with a smirk.

Harry kissed her on the forehead, and then on the lips. He frowned as Ginny drew away, but it turned into a smile, as he saw her opening the box.

The ring inside was identical to his, the only difference being the vines running along its length. He took out his ring from the box, holding it beside hers, flowers and vines side by side.

When he looked up, Ginny's eyes were shining with tears. He knew his were, too.

"So," she said, "will you marry me?"

Harry laughed, and then gently put the ring on her middle finger.

"Only if you marry me, too."

And Ginny laughed, and cried, and he thought he did too and in the end when her lips collided with his, he knew it had been worth it.

In the end, he was glad he'd waited nine days.

...

#fanfiction #hinny after the war #ron being supportive best mate and brother #hinny #hinny fanfiction #fluff #romance #humour #harry potter #ginny weasley #ron weasley #george weasley #bill weasley #christmas #nine days #written for the quidditch league fanfiction competition #hinny proposal #harry/ginny

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arctic-comet · 3 years

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Osblaine week 2021, Day 2: Lyrics

Over the last several weeks, I have carefully curated a playlist for Osblaine. The final total length of the playlist is 2 hours and 53 minutes.

The playlist can be found HERE

Click "Keep Reading" if you're interested in the introduction, commentary, more graphics and the full tracklist.

For full disclosure, I have to give some of the credit to my amazing fellow Osblaine fangirls @dystopiandramaqueen, @splitscreen and everyone who participated in a certain conversation for the original inspiration and even bringing up some of the songs.

You should look at the playlist in five parts: one section for each season that's aired and one section for the future (because I like to end things on a hopeful note).

The playlist contains a lot of the following:

Music from movie and TV soundtracks

Instrumental music

Remixes

Classics and covers of classics

Country music. I blame Florida. My sincerest apologies.

Some of the songs were chosen because they reminded me of a certain Osblaine scene, and some of them aren't specific to particular scenes but chosen for the general Osblaine vibe. And most of the movie/TV music I chose have been used for couples that remind me of Nick and June.

Part I- Season 1, first 12 songs of the playlist:

Forbidden Love- Abel Korzeniowski, Jasper Randall, The Hollywood Studio Symphony (Romeo & Juliet)

Fireflies- Owl City

Echoes in Rain- Enya

My Ghost- Glass Pear (Bones)

Daring to Hope- Anne Dudley (Poldark)

Everytime We Touch- Cascada

1000 Times- Sara Bareilles

Too Good At Goodbyes- Sam Smith

In Case You Don't Live Forever- Ben Platt

To Find You- Cast of Sing Street, Brenock O’Connor

She- Elvis Costello (Notting Hill)

Miracle- Instrumental- Cö Shu Nie

Hanging By A Moment- Lifehouse

Commentary:

The first instrumental song IMO works as an intro for their entire love story.

The next two songs are more about having the right vibe. It's a little ambiguous and dark because that's how their life is in Gilead.

Leave my door open just a crack

Please take me away from here

'Cause I feel like such an insomniac

Please take me away from here

Why do I tire of counting sheep?

Please take me away from here

When I'm far too tired to fall asleep

***

Wait for the sun

Watching the sky

Black as a crow

Night passes by

Taking the stars

So far away

Everything flows

Here comes another new day

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah

***

"My Ghost" is June's POV before they sleep together, wondering if she can trust Nick:

Who can you trust, in this place?

And whom can I put my faith?

If you're real, then show me now,

Who you are

The last two songs are for episode 1x10, for both Nick’s reaction to June’s pregnancy and the beginning of her first escape attempt (arranged by Nick).

She may be the face I can't forget The trace of pleasure or regret May be my treasure or the price I have to pay She may be the song that summer sings Maybe the chill that autumn brings Maybe a hundred different things Within the measure of a day

Part II- Season 2, next 10 songs:

Love Will Keep Us Alive- Eagles

So Easy- Phillip Phillips

Incomplete- James Bay

Rewrite the Stars- The Piano Guys (The Greatest Showman)

I’ll Be Your Shelter- Taylor Dayne

Love Never Fails- Brandon Heath

P.S. I Love You- 05:11- John Powell (P.S. I Love You)

It's A Girl- Mychel Danna (The Time Traveler's Wife)

I'll Stand By You- Josh Groban, Helene Fischer

The Miracle of Love- Eurythmics

Commentary:

The first four songs cover June’s escape attempt and the time they share at the Boston Globe.

"Incomplete" is Nick's POV from when she's on the run and he knows she'll be gone from his life soon. He lives in the moment.

I don't wanna look down

I don't want us to break up in the clouds

All I want is to stay us, to stay with you now

"I'll Be Your Shelter" is for when June's mental health is at its lowest point and he goes to Serena to beg for her to get June help.

What you need is a friend to count on

What you got baby you got someone

Who will stay when the rain is fallin'

And won't let it fall on you

P.S. I Love You takes me back to episode 2.09, Nick’s selflessness in the episode and of course the scene where after telling June that Luke loves her, he tells her that he loves her too, despite believing she probably doesn’t feel the same way.

It's A Girl makes me think of the beautiful moment they share during June's false labor when he helps her out of the van and they climb the steps together.

I’ll Stand By You is for 2.10, Nick holding June after she was heartbroken over Hannah and over what the Waterfords did to her and clinging onto him.

Part III- Season 3, next 6 songs:

Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close- Alexandre Desplat (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close)

All I Ask- Adele

Never Enough- Loren Allred (The Greatest Showman)

I Don’t Wanna Live Forever- Taylor Swift, ZAYN (Fifty Shades Darker)

Love is Gone- SLANDER, Dylan Matthew

Constellations- The Oh Hellos

Commentary:

For obvious reasons, it was extremely difficult to pick songs for this season.

The first (instrumental) song is for the beginning of the season with June coming back to the Waterford house and them then saying goodbye to each other on the street.

All I Ask, Never Enough, I Don't Wanna Live Forever and Love Is Gone are for their night together in June’s room at Lawrence’s (the one we didn’t get to see sigh). They know it's possible it's all they'll ever have, and they'll take it, but it'll never be enough.

I will leave my heart at the door I won't say a word They've all been said before, you know So why don't we just play pretend? Like we're not scared of what's coming next Or scared of having nothing left

Look, don't get me wrong I know there is no tomorrow All I ask is

If this is my last night with you Hold me like I'm more than just a friend Give me a memory I can use Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do It matters how this ends 'Cause what if I never love again?

***

All the shine of a thousand spotlights

All the stars we steal from the night sky

Will never be enough

Never be enough

Towers of gold are still too little

These hands could hold the world but it'll

Never be enough

***

I'm sorry, don't leave me, I want you here with me

I know that your love is gone

I can't breathe, I'm so weak, I know this isn't easy

Don't tell me that your love is gone

That your love is gone

"Constellations" is for their long separation and the doubts that I'm sure plagued them both during it. Would they ever see each other again?

Part IV- S4, next 12 songs:

All of Me- John Legend

(Everything I do) I Do It For You- Bryan Adams

Iris- Natalie Taylor (City of Angels)

She Was Like A Bright Light- Hans Zimmer, Rupert Greyson-Williams (Winter’s Tale)

Noah's Last Letter- Aaron Zigman (The Notebook)

What’s In The Middle- the bird and the bee (Bones)

ivy- Taylor Swift

Footprints in the Sand- Leona Lewis

Remember Me (Lullaby)- Gael Garcia Bernal, Gabriella Flores (Coco)

On The Nature Of Daylight- Max Richter

My Heart Will Go On- Basil Jose (Titanic)

The Story- Sara Ramirez (Grey's Anatomy)

Commentary:

There were sooo many songs I wanted to include in part IV, but I controlled myself and ended up with this particular dozen.

"She Was Like A Bright Light" and "Noah’s Last Letter" are an instrumental double punch to the gut for Nick’s time in Gilead during episodes 4.07-4.09. The first one is meant for when he finds out June made it to Canada, and the 2nd for is for when he starts to gather info on Hannah to give to June.

"What’s in the Middle" and "ivy" are June’s POV of episodes 4.07-4.09.

"What's In The Middle" has more of an angry and confused vibe, and June was definitely both in episodes 7 and 8.

Losing your head is such a common theme

All your brains are falling out, falling out the open seams

Where is the heart, is the heart of the matter

I will empty out my skull of all this useless chatter

On the other hand, "ivy" has this haunted vibe, but there's also reverence and acceptance, which she begins to achieve in episode 9.

Oh, goddamn

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

Oh, I can't

Stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows

And now I'm covered in you

The next three songs are of course all for their reunion in 4.09, and I couldn’t resist including the song that was actually played in the scene.

"The Story" draws the season to a close nicely, with June understanding that her current needs are different from what they used to be and that there’s someone who understands her completely (and it’s not Luke).

You see the smile that's on my mouth

It's hiding the words that don't come out

And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed

They don't know my head is a mess

No, they don't know who I really am

And they don't know what I've been through like you do

And I was made for you

Part V- Season 5 and Beyond, the last 6 songs

Secret Love Song- Little Mix, Jason Derulo

Burn With You- Lea Michele

The Bones- Maren Morris

Feels Like Home- Auli'i Carvalho, Keegan DeWitt

Love Will Find A Way- Piano Covers (Lion King II)

Like I'll Never Love You Again- Carrie Underwood

“Secret Love Song” is a more angsty tune about a love that’s still kept a secret like June and Nick’s love (as far as most people are concerned). Now that they’ve already made out in front of the man who raped and abused June and made Nick watch him do that, I want to believe they can let go of the secrecy in S5, at least when it comes to a few people.

I'm living for that day Someday Can I hold you in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dancefloor? I wish that we could be like that Why can't we it be like that? Cause I'm yours, I'm yours Why can't you hold me in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dancefloor? I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? Cause I'm yours Why can't I say that I'm in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftops I wish that it could be like that Why can't we be like that? Cause I'm yours Why can't we be like that? Wish we could be like that

***

“Bones” is about a relationship with a strong foundation, which IMO they do have. It will carry them in the future, too. They’re more into each other now than ever before and especially June is coming to terms with how strong that love is. They’ll weather any storm.

When the bones are good, the rest don't matter

Yeah, the paint could peel, the glass could shatter

Let it break 'cause you and I remain the same

When there ain't a crack in the foundation

Baby, I know any storm we're facing

Will blow right over while we stay put

The house don't fall when the bones are good

***

“Feels Like Home” is more hopeful. Their home is with each other and I hope that’s something that will be explored more in the future.

Take me, I'm ready

Go slow but go steady

To a place that we can call our own

I wanna know what feels like home

***

“Like I’ll Never Love You Again” is a good conclusion for the playlist. It’s hopeful and a testament to an epic love.

I wanna love you like the rain on a roof

Stronger than a bottle of a hundred ten proof

I wanna take love to places that love has never been

Yeah, I wanna love you like I'll never love you again

And I'll love you again

Oh, and again

#the handmaid’s tale #nick x june #osblaine #osblaineweek2021

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gwyns · 3 years

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what would be your ideal elucien arc in canon?

this is a very good question and one i'll probably ramble with so sorry lmao i actually thought about an elucien plot a lot years ago. i had quite a few ideas and was trying to plot my own multi-chapter fic around them but well..... that didn't work out and this ended up getting really long, so i apologize for that lol

so here's the overall gist of what would've/what i would like to eventually happen one day. elain had a vision of lucien being harmed or something along those lines and her instinct had her finding him. whether this was through her learning she could winnow or some other means, i hadn't decided but eventually she'd show up and lucien would be so dumbfounded and question her reason for being there and ask if feyre knew she was here and elain would get defensive like "i didn't realize she was my keeper." and this is the first time lucien has truly seen her bite, her little bit of fire, so he's taken aback a bit but quickly reassures her she needs no keeper and he hadn't meant offense.

she gives an excuse about how she wants to see prythian and that nobody would show her so she decided to show herself, bc she doesn't want to admit she cares for him, even a fraction bc it might give him hope that she ultimately would have to crush. and it's not entirely a lie, she would like to travel and see the world, but it's not the whole truth either.

so moving on they'd partner up and he'd bring elain along on whatever adventures he's getting up to, they'd meet up with jurian and vassa of course and i have this headcanon that she and vassa would be the perfect friends. vassa is human so she'd offer elain something familiar you know? and vassa is also the type to stand her ground and she has a fire of her own so i feel like she'd help elain grow into herself and be more assertive and stroke the fire within elain some. as for elain and jurian.... it's awkward at first bc jurian is partially responsible for elain's turn (at least in her head) and he was there when graysen rejected her and so she overall has had bad experiences when he's around so she doesn't know what to make of him.

over time she comes to find that jurian isn't as intimidating as he first lets on. he's quite considerate and good at reading people, and he knows to some extent what she's gone through (as does vassa), he was tortured and killed by amarantha then bound to her jewelry for 500 years. he understands the feeling of violation and having a fae treat you as some toy and little more, and he apologizes for his part in her trauma. after this, i can see him becoming something of a big brother type to elain, they have a relationship few would understand but they listen to each other's troubles and just get it you know?

anyway, back to her and lucien. i can see them both being kind of reluctant in the beginning? elain bc she doesn't want to give him any ideas and lucien doesn't know want to pressure her so he keeps his distance but as they're working together, with the spring court, koschei, her learning more about her abilities, etc they both start to see how capable they each are and their feelings start to show here. for lucien it's more natural, like he always had a feeling that if he spent enough time with elain he could fall in love with her but with elain? she's freaked out. she doesn't want this, she wants her ability to choose. and maybe it's just the mating bond reacting for her or at least this is what she tells herself to explain away the butterflies she gets whenever lucien smiles at something she said.

at some point they have to travel to the autumn court and lucien is terrified, he doesn't want her anywhere near his family but elain asserts herself and says she's coming whether he likes it or not. he, of course, doesn't object. he just pleads with her to stay close to him the entire time. during their visit(s) they meet with eris and lucien's mother and you don't understand how badly i want elain and his mother to have a good relationship. her own mother only saw her as beautiful and something to capture a titled man to advance their status, she didn't truly see elain either. lady vanserra would be the kind and caring mother she never had and then being close would allow elain to learn more about lucien without asking him directly.

and her and eris? he'd take on the protective older brother role for elain, he would make sure no one even breathed near her unless she wished it so. maybe he'd introduce her to his dogs or something, too.

i can't get into specifics of what would really happen during these visits bc my brain sucks but overall it'd allow elain to learn more of lucien's upbringing and begin to understand him and in turn lucien would learn more about elain's childhood when she'd discuss her mother with lady vanserra.

maybe after this they visit the day court or something so they can view helion's massive library and try to learn more of koschei and elain's powers. they'd bond while studying, it'd start as courteous conversation but it'd soon develop into more intimate questions. maybe she asks about jesminda, who she'd learned some about from feyre and some from the servants in the autumn court, he'd answer her questions but never offer anything more than what he had to. she can tell her death still weighs heavily on him. this is when she really starts paying attention to what exactly she feels through the mate bond, tremendous guilt and, as feyre once described, he's endlessly sad.

this is where things get kinda fuzzy for me bc i never knew how this story would end, like i knew the koschei conflict would be the finale but other than that? nothing lmao but basically i could see elain and lucien growing together very slowly. they start getting comfortable with the faint touches and lingering glances they give each other. it eventually leads to a dark night in the camp and elain can't sleep so she gets up to take a walk but her feet just lead her to wherever lucien is and she sees him without his shirt on, his back is turned to her and she sees the massive scars across his back and can't stop the soft gasp that escapes.

lucien whirls around but elain can't get the image out of her head... who would have been so cruel as to cause those marks? who would dare to touch her mate like that? she knows she should be more worried about how possessive the mate bond makes her, but in this moment it doesn't matter, what matters is who hurt him. and she asks as much, "it's nothing, elain" is his response but she doesn't let up, she steps closer to him and motions for him to turn around, which he does. she hesitantly runs her fingers across his scars, she can feel her rage building, no matter how irrational it is she wants whoever did this dead. she blinks at that thought, but she's not scared no, she wants whoever caused him pain to suffer.

he tells her not to worry and that it's already been taken care of and she reluctantly leaves him to go back to her own tent (or wherever they're sleeping) and tries to sleep but everytime she closes her eyes the image of his scars, how he might have received them, flashes in her mind. then she starts to wonder who gave him the scar on his face, she wonders how she might find out and how she might get the means to return the favor.

also maybe at some point later in the story, they visit the autumn court again, i have a headcanon that elain doesn't only see the future, she can see the past in some cases so maybe she starts seeing this couple in a.... very intimate setting. and she works out the female is lucien's mother, but the male she's with is definitely not beron. this could prompt the helion reveal but honestly idk how that'd all go down.

i really can't tell you how this would all wrap up bc i am so bad at plotting but eventually they meet koschei, they defeat him and there's a scene where they embrace and the confessions come, it starts with lucien,

"i love you. so much. and i choose you. i'd choose you in a hundred–in a thousand different lifetimes."

"do you mean that?"

"i've never meant anything more."

elain brings her hands to his face, caressing his cheeks, then she moves to trace the scar on his face.

she finally says, "i choose you, too, lucien. i love you. now, kiss me... please."

they have the kiss we've all waited 5 books for. she accepts the bond and we all live happily ever after.

#IM BAD AT THIS OK #but i want an elucien book so badly 😭#acotar #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #asks #acotars #long post

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uwua3 · 3 years

Text

price of being a dad.

🍁💸 furuichi sakyo

summary: you may not have a birth father, but you do have a family.

warnings: abandonment issues, abuse (mentions), angst with happy ending, birthday, daddy/parental issues, food

author’s note: for everyone who grew up with no father figure in their life, a dad who didn’t do shit, or a man who never loved them, this is for you ♡ sakyo loves you! (reminder this is a completely platonic/fatherly figure one shot)

word count: 2,859

music: since the day i was born – lostcrowboy

You wished your father loved you.

Maybe, you stay up late into the night, staring up at the ceiling, wondering why he left. Why did he selfishly pack up and go forever? How come he didn’t want to play the role of your father anymore when you needed him most, sobbing and begging for a second chance even if it wasn’t your fault? Or on the other hand, you may be hiding away in your bedroom, shaking and asking why he stayed. Why would he abuse the entire family with his violent, aggressive presence? How did he have the nerve to put a picture–perfect front in the public with the sting of his hits burning into your cheek?

Did he say he’d come back for you one day? You couldn’t remember anything—not his words or what he looked like. Your dad was gone, it didn’t matter how, he left you. He gave up, he was a quitter.

You said you hated your dad, but you knew, you’d take his love back in a heartbeat if you could.

Especially today, since it was your birthday.

It was another day in your calendar, another day to be alone and angry over something you couldn’t control. You would never admit it, but you wanted a happy birthday for goddamn once. The ridiculously cheesy triangular hats strapped on your head, a store–bought ice cream cake with your name in icing on top, a crowd of your friends and family singing the traditional song off-tune with big smiles. It would’ve been something you wished for, if only you had the appropriate amount of candles.

As you woke up to nothing, you couldn’t help but bear the weight of immense disappointment you experienced every year. For some unknown reason, a small, childish part of you wanted to wake up to a “Happy Birthday!” from your loved ones. It wasn’t their fault, though. You did everything possible to make sure no one knew it was your birthday so you wouldn’t be let down again.

First thing in the morning, and your thoughts already trailed back to your deadbeat father. How nice. You sighed, not exactly having the energy to wake up and face your own fears before a harsh knock sounded at your door. Did one of the boys need help setting up for the latest play or something? You hurriedly rushed to open the door, about to ask what was wrong before you stopped, meeting face to face with a familiar pair of black, square glasses and a blank expression.

It was Sakyo, infamous yakuza with a glare that could kill. He stood before you in his usual black turtleneck and grey suit, his arms across his chest with his foot tapping against the ground, a sign he was growing impatient. Before you could slam the door closed and run the hell away, Sakyo seemed to notice and stuck his foot right between the opening, pinching his nose bridge with a frustrated groan. Of course, the yakuza had quick reflexes for his old age.

“Rookie, learn some proper manners for once!” Sakyo barked, prying open the door against your very insistent will. You eventually let the door slam against the wall, knowing it was a losing battle because once Furuichi Sakyo put his mind to something, he’d always win. With something akin to satisfaction, Sakyo met your eye with a huff, pushing back a strand of blonde hair covering his vivid purple eyes.

“Good. You’re awake, I would’ve had to kill you if you were still sleeping.” Sakyo cursed casually, blinking at your sudden flinch from his words. He paused, before adding a “Nevermind that... Anyways, get dressed”, closing your door quickly and disappearing down the hallway. You took a moment to process what he just said, before quickly preparing for the day with a million questions running through your head.

Why would Sakyo need you for anything? He was more than capable of ordering Mankai, nevertheless Autumn Troupe, to do the dirty work around the dormitory. After all, no one wanted to deal with the backlash of Sakyo’s (unfortunately correct) criticism about how twenty plus boys couldn’t just live like they were all teenagers. So, why you? You grabbed all your proper necessities for an outing, knowing damn well a job done with Sakyo wasn’t just a short trip.

Reaching the main lobby, you noticed Sakyo pass a list of some sorts to Izumi, who glanced over it and nodded. She was about to say something before her eyes landed on you, sending you a bright smile and waving good morning. You couldn’t help but notice how much they looked like parents sending their children off to school, the observation causing a deep sense of sadness to settle as you looked away uncomfortably.

You missed the way Sakyo’s hand hovered over your shoulder for a moment before dropping it to his side, clearing his throat to get your attention. You turned to him, seeing the car keys already in hand and an itinerary written in his planner. Oh no...

“You’re here quick, good job.” Sakyo mentioned offhandedly, pushing his glasses up with his free hand as he reviewed his own list. You didn’t know why, but you almost felt overwhelmed with being praised by Sakyo so early in the day. A warm sensation of pride filled your chest, replacing the previous melancholy from before. You tried not to make your smile obvious, but Sakyo narrowed his eyes at you.

“What are you laughing at, rookie?”

“Nothing, nothing!”

“That’s what I thought... kids these days.”

(You weren’t the only one who tried to hold in your laugh, though some did better than others. Luckily, you weren’t at the receiving end of a harsh threat from Sakyo.)

Sakyo was only thirty (30) years old, but sometimes, he acted like an old man despite his impressive agility and athleticism that challenged the teens. You admired this as Sakyo ordered for the car keys from Sakoda, catching them smoothly with his hands gripping them without fail. You were certain you would never witness Sakyo drop anything in this lifetime, and dutifully followed him to his car, saying your goodbyes to the rest of the company.

Weirdly enough, Sakoda didn’t follow, but stayed behind with the group who was oddly awake already. You didn’t have the guts to question it, as you moved to sit in the back of the car. Sakyo was about to start the engine before he stopped, looking in the mirror with an almost confused glint to his eyes.

“Why are you in the back?” Sakyo asked, to which you blinked as if it was most obvious thing in the world.

“I don’t deserve to sit in the front.” You retorted immediately and Sakyo frowned, a deep furrow to his eyebrows as you wondered why he reacted the way he did.

“Who taught you that?” You didn’t respond to the question, so Sakyo just exited the car, opening your door with the same displeased look. Yet, it wasn’t aimed at you, it seemed to be distant and cold.

“Get in the passenger side, sit anywhere you want.” Sakyo demanded and who were you to refuse? You slid into the seat beside him and Sakyo drove off, the Veludo Way scenery passing by you. You glanced at the dashboard and of course, he was driving at the safe speed limit. A yakuza who obeyed the law, how uncommon.

Ten (10) minutes must’ve passed before you shifted in your seat, fidgeting with your fingers. Sakyo sighed tiredly, as if he hadn’t slept at all as he slowed down to a stoplight.

“You know, you don’t have to be so uncomfortable around me, rookie.” Sakyo said calmly, tapping his fingers on the wheel with his eyes trained on the lights.

You were constantly being taken by surprise today, all because of Sakyo Furuichi. Before this, you hadn’t shared more than a few sentences at a time with Sakyo. The most you’ve said to him was during a financial budget meeting for the staff, mostly to halfheartedly support Yuki & Tsuzuru’s demands of a larger budget. Yet, here Sakyo was, acting as if you both were... family.

You swallowed down the bitterness from the thought of your actual family, before looking over at Sakyo. Sakyo was already looking at you and attempted some sort of smile. Even though you wanted to laugh at how hard he was trying to appear normal, you appreciated the effort. Sakyo naturally had a dad–like smile, how fitting.

Sakyo’s smile grew genuine at the sight of yours and before he said anything, a car horn cut off his thoughts. You didn’t know when the light turned green, but Sakyo quickly drove off while muttering a curse at the impatient line of cars behind them.

“Sakyo, where are we going?” You asked after you realized the roads were leading directly to the shops. Sakyo pulled into a parking spot carefully, but with the ease of someone who’s driven a thousand times and more. How did he just parallel park like that? You tried to hide it, but you were always impressed by Sakyo.

“Where does it look like?” Sakyo opened his door and slipped out, looking out of place during the daytime. You watched him before snapping out of it, hurriedly clambering after him as he barely looked over his shoulder. Sakyo was already halfway down the sidewalk before you caught up, knowing he must’ve been running on a tight schedule doing god knows what.

“What are you shopping for?” You questioned, trying to maintain your breathing. Sakyo finally looked down at you, furrowing his eyebrows before relaxing his face, noticing your worried expression immediately. You easily read the smallest signals from people, and it wasn’t hard to wonder why.

“We,” Sakyo emphasized, making a point to include you as he stopped, nearly making you bump straight into him. “are going to every store in this place. I need help buying... a gift, for someone. You pick, got it?”

You couldn’t help but imagine a father buying a gift for their child. This was the closest you would ever get to that dream—that dream of being loved in such a parental way. You just nodded, knowing if you spoke, your voice would crack. Sakyo didn’t ask, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment before searching the random assortment of stores.

“They’re like you. I’m sure they’ll like whatever you choose.” Sakyo tried to comfort you, but his tone fell flat and he seemed out of his element. Before the silence got too awkward, Sakyo gestured towards the food court. “Forgot breakfast this morning. Let’s go.”

Who were you to argue with Furuichi Sakyo? You followed him, even if he was a bit lost. Sakyo must’ve avoided the mall for its crowds of people, because he did a full 360 as he read each menu.

“... What place do you like?” Sakyo finally asked, peering down at you to catch the smallest movement. You barely glanced at some breakfast display before he made his way over, ordering for you. For some reason, you were flattered at how Sakyo actually knew your favorite breakfast option. You didn’t even have to correct him, he just knew.

When you both sat down at a table (after Sakyo embarrassingly demanding a wipe to decontaminate the dirty spaces malls offered), Sakyo glanced up every once in a while to make sure you were eating a full meal. Sure, mall food was less than ideal, but you seemed so content that he didn’t mind the overpriced options, surprisingly.

“Thank you for the food, Sakyo.” When you thanked him for the meal quietly, Sakyo felt a pain in his heart from how nervous it was. Sakyo just waved his hand as if to say it was nothing, looking away. Why did Sakyo suddenly feel so proud all of a sudden?

As you stood before all of the stores, not knowing where to start, you heard a sentence you never thought possible from Sakyo.

“Today, price doesn’t matter. Go choose whatever you think is best.”

In fact, today was possibly the worst day to be shopping with Sakyo. Anytime you picked something up, he would attempt to buy it without you looking, thinking mere observation was interest. You had to explain to him that just because you complimented something, didn’t mean you wanted it to be the choice.

“How many gifts are you planning on getting this person?” You laughed, a part of you jealous of this mystery person. Sakyo must’ve really cared about them. Sakyo just shrugged, putting back a shirt you thought was fashionable. Sakyo was truly unfamiliar in this new territory. Sakyo really wasn’t a person who spent money, so being inside a mall was enough to make him on edge at all times. But... Sakyo contentedly watched you as he made sure no one was following. Sakyo would never get used to a mall, but it wasn’t so bad today.

Sakyo breathed a sigh of relief when you finally chose something, most likely fed up with the number of people at any given place. You were surprised that Sakyo didn’t even check the price and swiped his card. Yakuza money must’ve been a different lifestyle, you thought. At the register, the cashier checked the item out and looked up, politely making small talk.

“Are you shopping with your father today?”

You looked around and realized they were asking you. The cashier thought Sakyo was your father. You both froze, shocked at the simple question. You failed to recover, attempting to adamantly deny the conversation with a nervous laugh.

“N–No! Um... he’s—” “Yes, I am their dad. It’s our special hang out this month.” Sakyo replied smoothly, seemingly unbothered by your reaction. The cashier seemed touched by the fact you two went out monthly, sending you both their congratulations. Sakyo took back the credit card and purchase, thanking the cashier for their service as he escorted you to the front of the store.

You were still in shock by the time Sakyo made you sit down on a bench. You couldn’t process the words even if you kept hearing them in your head. Sakyo confirmed he was your father, and although you knew it was a lie, you felt proud. Why did it make you so happy to hear Sakyo say that? Why did Sakyo even say that? Was this what being someone’s child felt like? You couldn’t even remember the last time your father was publicly proud of being related to you. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your head.

Sakyo was... patting your head? Sakyo seemed caught off guard, even if he moved to do so. It must’ve been subconscious because Sakyo took a moment before ruffling your hair, the action unfamiliar to both of you.

“Don’t blank in a public space. It’s not safe.” Sakyo said firmly, looking at his hand. On the same hand, he was wearing a watch. Reading the time, Sakyo’s eyes slightly widened before he stood up, quickly mentioning something about being late to an event. You nodded as Sakyo scrolled through his phone, the buzzing consistent as some sort of group chat was blowing up his device.

“Okay. Let’s go home.” Sakyo casually mentioned but you experienced a warm sensation of pride once more. Home... you hadn’t had a place like that in so long. You followed Sakyo to the car, noticing he checked to make sure you were following this time.

On the way home, Sakyo properly made sure all roads were safe (Sakyo let you turn on the radio this time). When Sakyo pulled in and stopped the car, he pulled the bag from the back of the car and shoved it into your hands. Even though Sakyo pretended it wasn’t a big deal, you saw his embarrassment on his face. Sakyo didn’t give gifts often, but when he did, it meant something.

“This is for you. Keep this, okay?” Sakyo pulled at his collar when you finally smiled, unable to deny it when it was a token of your time spent together. Before Sakyo could leave the car, you pulled Sakyo into a hug with a big grin.

“Thanks, dad.” You accidentally let slip out, but Sakyo awkwardly patted your back. “Of course, rookie. I’ll see you next month for our hang out.”

That was the start of hanging out with Sakyo every month, and it all started on your birthday. When you walked into the pitch-black dorms, all you heard was a “Happy birthday!” from every person in the company. While everyone began singing, You noticed Omi and Izumi carry out a homemade cake with the right amount of candles, the flames dancing in front of you. You blew them out ceremoniously, smiling as Mankai cheered.

(For once, you didn’t wish for anything. You had everything you needed, right here.)

When you spun around, you saw Sakyo wearing a dumb party hat and that’s when you knew: Your home was with your second family, Mankai.

You didn’t have your birth dad, but you did have a family.

#furuichi sakyo #sakyo furuichi #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! one shots #act! addict! actors! one shots #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! sakyo #a3 sakyo

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chixibrown · 4 years

Photo

Upon finishing the Stardew Valley comic

Since the Stardew Valley comic has been released by Fangamer, I am now able to write about what I had been doing in secret for one long year.

■ Gratitude

First of all, to the original creator Eric-san who entrusted the task in my hands, to Kari-san who helped me from early development all the way to printing, to Ryan-san, to Steven-san who did the translations, to Kari-san's mother who assisted in the creation of the envelope, to Erica-san for product photography -- And last but not least, everyone at Fangamer and FangamerJP.

It's thanks to the support of many people that I was able to finish the comic, and I wish to extend my sincerest gratitude towards everyone involved.

■ Chronology

"Chihiro! Big News! Let's create a new merch together!" was a request that I received around autumn of 2018. At first I was wondering if I was going to be asked to design a T-shirt, but turned out to be an invitation to draw a comic book!

At that time, I was posting comics on Twitter at random. Not even in my wildest dreams have I thought that my little comics would be appreciated so, and thus I immediately burst into tears.

I'm very honored and thankful for the opportunity to pen Fangamer's very first comic.

■ Contents

I'll try not to spoil anything about the story in this section.

The content requested by the original creator Eric-san for the comic was: "The story before the farmer comes to the farm" "With focus on the community center and Joja" "And the protagonist should have no set characteristics"

These were really the ONLY information that we received from Eric-san throughout the whole process (whyyy).

I was definitely worried. In reality, for around six months when I did my preliminary research, I played Stardew Valley every day, took countless pictures, and absorbed myself in collecting materials.

I I ended up taking a little over 20 thousand screenshots total (lol).

I wholeheartedly agree with Eric-san's guideline not to give the protagonist any set characteristics. I think one of the keypoints of this game is that "Anyone can be the protagonist".

The story is set from a few years before the prologue of game, so I was rather careful not to show my own personal interpretation. In principle, the actions of the characters were mostly taken from their in-game dialogue where they mention having done something in the past (For example, the reason Sam got in trouble lmao).

It took a lot of effort outlining the story, which involved things such as "Which characters would be in contact with each other?" and "Which characters may not be present at the valley at the time?". This is the reason why the preliminary research took around six months.

By the way, I was the one who proposed to include a "letter" with the comic, both as a bonus and major spoiler, in a way. But uh, many fellow Japanese may not be able to read it, so... I'll secretly tell you the what's actually written on the letter:

It's the handwritten version of THE letter you receive in the English version of the game's prologue. It's in your hands now. So in conclusion, it's probably exactly what you think it was.

I was quite adamant about how the letter needs to be handwritten. And as who wrote it... I shall keep it a secret here.

The reason why the comic had little to no dialogue is because it was the style I had back from the time I was drawing Stardew Valley fan art. Since Stardew Valley is a media not originally from Japan, that style serves to fulfill my two wishes: "I want people all over the world to be able to read my work" and "I want to cherish the feelings of each individual player" -- That sort of idea, really.

To summarize,

"I want people all over the world to be able to read my work"

"I want to preserve the unique interpretations each individual player might have"

"Anyone can become a Stardew Valley protagonist"

I drew the comic with these concepts in mind.

■ About me

I would like to talk about my experiences throughout the development of the comic.

My name is Chihiro Sakaida (a.k.a. Brown Junimo), I was already working for a game company, so I took advantage of that experience to work on game design and illustration.

Of course, while I was working on the Stardew Valley comic, I was a freelancer and had other jobs to worry about as well, so I ended up spending a lot of time working on the comic at night after work. I also studied digital art for a month for the sake of the comic, and I think it helped improved my work efficiency.

Those were truly, very fun days for me. The only thing that did bother me was the fact that even though I was working on my favorite Stardew Valley content day after day, I couldn't really share it with anyone.

I didn't want to take the risk of accidentally running my mouth on Twitter, and I no longer had the time to draw and post online like I used to -- So I had to resort to posting only low-risk tweets, so to speak, and to be honest, it was quite disheartening.

As such, I felt truly supported by the trusted individuals who knew about the comic. Tori-san, Aki-san, Kari-san, and Ryan-san, thank you so, so much.

■ Those who supported me

Tori-san is my partner, and also a person I respect as a novelist and screenwriter. She kindly and carefully reviewed and summarized my messy story.

Aki-san knew about the comic existed, but also knew next to nothing about it. Because of that, I think it was more than a handful to support me. It must've been really hard on Aki-san, who didn't know the contents of the book and thus had no way to accidentally spoiling the surprise, but whom also probably held even more feelings of shame than I did in regards to social media... I'm sorry that you've had to put up with so much. I was very proud to have you be the first reader of the finished book.

Kari-san is the illustrator of the Official Stardew Valley Guide Book, and I respect her a whole lot.

Both her work are her personality are very kind and easy-going. Together with her partner Ryan-san, she's managed to assist and encourage me many, many times.

No matter what I drew, I was sure to be greeted with her "Chihiro, you're so great!" or "Chihiro, you really did your best!" (Even my own mother have never praise me this much!) Overall, she feels just like an older sister I've always longed for, and it makes me very happy.

No matter what merch was in the process of being created, she would say "Let's make a brown one!!", solely because it's my signature color. It makes me very happy, although probably a tiny bit embarrassed as well to have her value my one schtick this much. She's even came to Japan many times, and listened to me talk all day long. After all, I wouldn't have been able to get this job to begin with if it wasn't for Kari-san, so she's a real lifesaver.

I didn't get to talk directly with Eric-san, the original creator and developer of Stardew Valley. Obviously I received some feedback via Fangamer, but I was refraining from being in contact with him as much as possible. I didn't think I could convey my full sincerity towards him before the comic was completed. I strived to be able to earnestly understand the feelings he wanted to convey via his own words -- Whether it was the game dialogues, his words on the developer blog and interviews, etc.

There was, by the way, no revision whatsoever to the comic. Eric-san did, however, carefully check all of my ideas and always provided words of appreciation; which made me happier than anything else. Those words became my motivation to live, in a sense, which in turn allowed me to freely and happily work on the comic.

■ Going Forward

While I've been talking about how proud I am to have finished the comic, I also would like to talk about what's coming next. While I certainly plan to continue working with Fangamer for the foreseeable future, at the same time, I have also decided to work for another game development company, and I plan to devote my time working on game development for at least the next year.

It has been my dream for the past 15 years to work for this particular company, and I'm elated to see it come true.

However, as a result I think I will have less exposure to social media. I don't think it's going to be easy to recreate that warm and wondrous time where I could interact with people regularly, but my memory of that time is something I will treasure for the rest of my life.

I'm really sorry that I have absolutely nothing to give back, but I sincerely hope the comic has brought a smile to everyone who's read or even merely noticed it.

■ Finally

I'm such a fortunate person -- I've come this far due to everyone's support, and for that, I would also like to extend my deepest gratitude. Thank you so much, for everything, always.

It would delight me if all of you could stay with me from this point on.

As I try to polish my skills and improve myself as a whole.

PS: Thanks to my best friend Ryou-chan for translating this!

#stardew valley

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societydatabase · 3 years

Text

* 𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 / marifer valverde & mary sakamoto

location: gallagher’s dinner hall, the georgian garden

timeline: november 28th –– late evening

triggers: n/a

PREMISE: Marifer Valverde and Mary Sakamoto receive two notes tied together by a black ribbon. the first is easy to decipher ; the second will need each other’s assistance.

When she realized that there was not one new note but two from the Black Dahlia’s, along with the velvet black ribbon which tied the two together, the smile that spread across her features was inevitable. Marifer had been practically counting down the days since their first meeting after the Autumn Gala for when she’d hear from the Dahlia’s again. Marifer is not a part of a legacy family, no one in her family has been a spy or knows much about spy work, to her the existence of the secret society is more about something fun and mysterious to look forward to rather than anything that has to do with honor. That word is often foreign in her vocabulary but perhaps if she can join the Dahlia’s, that will change. The first note itself is pretty self explanatory: Wear the ribbon to the dining hall and spot the other Dahlia wearing a matching ribbon.

Marifer’s entire aesthetic already revolves around the color black. It’s classy and she likes that it can go with absolutely anything which is proven even more right when it comes to styling the ribbon on her wrist with one of her outfits. No one would suspect it being out of character, except the other Dahlia, whom she hopes to find rather quickly. The raven-haired girl is more than a little excited to be able to get started with solving the mystery that is the second note she received. Marifer is hoping that the other Dahlia’s note contains more of an explanation because ‘ where lies distant donated ’ doesn’t give many context clues, even to someone like Marifer who spends a good amount of time snooping around the grounds at Gallagher.

It’s subtle, the way velvet black ribbon ties the usually loose hair up. Yet, the bow sits high and tight, key point of the styling, no doubt. To anyone, it’s nothing more than an accessory ; to someone that would be looking for it, it’s catchy. Just like the one around her wrist. Of course, Mary had a light case of jitters as she was getting ready, the hop in her steps a little more nervous than joyous this time around. If she could bet, she’d definitely put a 20 on the other pledge catching the way her shoulders instantly become less tense, result of the silent sigh of relief Mary lets out. She looks sweet, it’s reassuring. “ Do you have any idea what flowers, ours and brothers could mean ? ” Mary knows that small talk would’ve probably been appreciated, but for some reason, she feels like there’s a clock ticking above both their heads. Getting to where they need to go or to what they need to do a little more important in her eyes than talking about how cute the ribbon around the other girl’s wrist is. Plus, the note neatly folded up in her hand had left her slightly confused since the moment she read it.

Marifer understands the other’s urgency to get the rest of the clues out of the way because it’s all she herself has been thinking about. Trying to gather a mental list of every place at the school so that she can tick them off one by one but, of course, her clue alone won’t get her there. She knows several people at Gallagher that would opt out for the ribbon in their hair, so she’s grateful that Mary has also spotted her and deduced that they were looking for one another. “ I think it would make more sense if we put it together with where lies distant donated. ” Her voice is quiet, only loud enough for the girl’s ears but she maintains the friendly smile on her face so they just appear as two friends having a casual conversation. If there is one thing that she does hope to get out of being a part of the secret society, it’s getting to make friends, forming bonds that perhaps will become unbreakable. As she thinks about this, however, she’s also thinking about the clues, attempting to put them together. “ The gardens, most of them are donated, correct? Or given to the school? ” She spends enough time snooping to figure that part out, waiting for the nod of approval from Mary who provides the conclusion to their clue: The Georgian Garden, given to Gallagher by the Blackthornes.

“ I’m curious what’s going to be waiting there. When they said to be ready, I wasn’t really expecting a search and find. ” Ah, there’s Mary’s small talk on their way to the solved riddle’s location. It’s truly harmless, too, for she has no reason to ever be hostile to her potential new sister. It’s a little way off on the grounds, going there silently would just be awkward. “ If it’s another riddle, I’m fairly confident in our chances of both getting in. Wouldn’t that be so fun ? ” Mary’s getting a little ahead of herself, but she means it. “ Being able to make our own legacies here, you know. ” Sure, Mary’s last name is basically plastered every other places around the school, but it’s not her doing. She’s proud of her family, of where she comes from. And this could be a way to prove that she’s worthy of the name, that she can achieve the potential her mother once showed the school’s officials in her time. Needless to say, this means a lot to the young Sakamoto.

All that she can do is agree with the other girl because, yes, it would be so fun to become her sister. She has enjoyed working with her thus far. The no bullshit part especially, getting straight to the point so that they’re able to find their prize all that much faster. By this point, Marifer has deducted just how important this might be to Mary and more than that, the importance it might have to her family name. Naturally, she is rooting for her as much as she is rooting for herself. Marifer’s lack of friendships her first two years at the school had left her starved for forming connections with people and Mary was no exception to that. Then comes the final instruction under the sign for the gardens : “ Start together, but dahlia’s must bloom alone. Find our namesake. ” Her mouth drops a bit at this, although she wonders if both of them should have been expecting it, that it wouldn’t be as simple as solving riddles all night long. They’ve chosen which way each of them will go, knowing there’s no sense in searching in the same places if only one of them will find the dahlia. A smile that certainly doesn’t touch her eyes is set on her face as she looks at Mary before the two of them are off on their own.

One last look goes Marifer’s way, mouths a good luck, and off Mary goes on her own part of the gardens. Young girl knows she’s not alone, not truly, but the eerie silence only being broken up by the sound of her own footsteps makes her feel like it. And in a way, they are alone, because how could the other help without sabotaging themselves in the process ? And at this point, it’s not a question of being selfish or selfless, it’s to complete something that had been demanded, where only one gets to finish. Mary is set on this idea, set on doing what’s asked of her. Finding a flower in a garden, it sounds tedious. Although, she supposes there won’t be a patch of thousands of dahlias out in the open, right?

Nerves ; that’s all she feels, but there’s a certain adrenaline that comes with that as well. She can’t help but compare this to her previous adventures throughout Gallagher. With Skylar, with Cecilia, with Nate. More than anything she wishes that she could’ve told Wilder about all of this but even after the fact, she still can’t tell him. He wouldn’t tell anyone, she knows that, but still Marifer knows when to hold her tongue. With the light of her phone shining on the different plants and flowers, this all feels much more eerie than the tombs or entering Gillian’s home. “ You can find it. ” A whispered attempt at a pep talk to herself. It’s as motivating as it is fleeting. Everything kind of looks the same after a moment, especially when the garden itself feels like one big shadow.

She’s gripping her phone tightly in one hand, figured out the plant would probably be hidden, and the light emitting from the device simply makes her life easier. Mary doesn’t know just how long or how far into the gardens she is, just that each edges and each turn she takes either brings her closer or further from her goal, and it’s enough to put a more pressing pace to her steps. Enough to get an already fast beating heart pumping even faster. If she trips, it’s on her own feet for wanting to get too fast. She doesn’t have the luxury to slow down, because if Marifer finds it first, she won’t try to cheat her way into stealing the win from her. If there’s one thing that Mary wants to be, it’s fair. They both know that whatever happens next, the one that finds the Dahlia, wins.

The gardens are one of the few places that never caught her interest enough to roam through so she isn’t expecting it when it becomes somewhat of a loop, from where she’s standing she can see where the garden begins to curve. It wouldn’t be as simple or predictable as for the dahlia to be right in the center of the garden, right? Where everything meets? She shakes her head as if answering her own question. Still, this makes her hurry more as she continues looking, until Marifer swears that she can hear Mary somewhere too close. This stops her for a moment and despite herself she stops to contemplate the fact that she may genuinely lose and her biggest adventure at Gallagher yet will come to a close.

It’s very faint, but she can see Marifer’s own light in the corner of her eyes. Did they really walk until they found each other? Was the prize not on the other’s side? Mary doesn’t have the time to ponder too long on it, because if Marifer’s close, so is the dahlia. She shines her way closer, keen eyes still looking for the elusive flower, free hand getting restless to grab it. Only a few steps, she thinks, only a few more ste ————

It’s one of those moments that you can’t believe happened unless you physically lived it and even when you have lived it, it feels like a dream. It is something of fate or more like chance. They did this together, it’s not fair that only one of them should win. It isn’t fair that one of them should feel their stomach drop from the realization that the other has won. There’s only a single phone light shining now, pointed right at the fully bloomed dahlia that’s sitting there (completely unassuming, as if it didn’t and would never realize it’s own importance), Marifer takes a deep breath. “ No. ” The word leaves her mouth without thinking, she looks up to meet Mary’s gaze. Mary, who is telling her something, attempting her best to smile, but she sounds a thousand miles away. Marifer feels as if she’s drowning underwater even though she’s still simply standing there.

The statue is one she has seen probably a hundred times before while walking through campus. Susan Qualley who sits near the entrance to one of the other gardens, looking as somber as most of the statues do. “ Place the name of the winner behind Susan Qualley and they will claim their prize. ” The raven-haired girl has written down her name in her most elegant penmanship: Marifer Valverde.

#black dahlia task #ty to mel & gen <3 angels

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hangfiretales · 4 years

Text

I found one of my short stories from a few years ago and was trying to figure out what needed to be polished up. And after spending the last few months complaining about the difficulty I have with using present tense, I discovered (with unfailing irony) that this story needed to be written in the present tense, of course.

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Anatomy of the Heart

‘That you, pet?’

‘Yes, Nan.’ Who else has a key? I add, but only in my head. She's pretty old. I can afford to be indulgent.

I shut the front door, and the dusty quiet of home and cats and autumn collapses onto me.

The lounge room curtains are closed against the afternoon sun but I can see her, sunk in her chair and dressed in something purple and polyester. Reading, of course, eyeball-deep in a comfortable romantic cliché of unbuttoned shirts and thrusting. There’s always thrusting.

‘Library day, Nan?' I bend and kiss her hair, close enough to smell talcum powder and spearmint.

‘Narelle had a stack ordered in for me.’ She half-closes the book to glance at the front cover. ‘I think I've had this one before, with the duke. He’s got a limp. That's alright, mind, I don't remember all of it so it's like new.’

It might have something to do with a certain sameness of plot amongst her chosen genre, but I say nothing.

‘Long day, pet?’

And it has been, actually, so I tell her; enough to get a bit of sympathy, not enough to bore her.

I’m rewarded with a pat on the arm and a clucking sound.

‘Fancy him saying all that when you've spent so much time on it. Bloody professor should give you marks for effort, is what I think. Tea?’

And at my nod she straightens in slow motion and patters to the kitchen.

I follow her to the bench. ‘Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. I wish it did. I put in more effort looking busy than anyone I know.’

Nan acknowledges my attempt at humour with a nod but I know she doesn’t think of me as the funny one. That's always been my brother's gig.

I open the fridge and get the milk out while Nan conveys sugar from jar to mug. One spoon. Two spoons. Pause. Another little bit of a spoon.

‘I still don't know why you have to get a degree just to read books,’ she says. ‘Why can't you just read them on your own?’ She sniffs twice; once at the education system and once at the milk carton in her hand. She pours it.

‘There's reading and then there's- like a deep critical understanding.’

But Nan shakes her head. ‘If you're not enjoying it, what's the point.’ A statement, not a question. ‘I've read hundreds of books. Thousands, probably, and nobody ever asked me to get a degree first. Waste of time with your degrees for reading, and degrees for making video games, and music and what-not. Here you go, pet, carry those out. I'll get biscuits.’

I take the brimming mugs back out to the lounge room and set them down on the coffee table. My usual seat’s piled up with The Last Cowboy and his horny friends so I sit down on the orange couch. At least one cushion stirs and becomes a cat.

‘Don't sit on Valerie, she doesn't want your bum on her head.’ Nan puts a tray down next to our mugs: biscuits from a home-brand cream assortment; a jam-jar lid, for discarded teabags; two tea spoons. One’s a sundae spoon, actually, longer and handier for stirring a tall mug. I reach.

Nan bagses it smoothly.

‘Sit here. Sit in your spot, love. Move those things-’

I put the stack of books at my feet.

‘And how is Alex going?’

Which is the real question, isn't it, even when she leaves it unasked. The endless questions, filling in her days with thrusting dukes and shirtless cowboys and endless curiosity over other people's boyfriends.

‘Yeah, well, he's- yeah. No, he's good.’

She gives me a look. And harrumphs. ‘What you need is a real man. One who treats you properly and makes a bit of an effort with himself.’

‘Like Jack the Excessively Groomed Cowboy?’ I pick him up and read the back cover. ‘Sorry, Chuck the cowboy. The brooding rancher next door is about to change Gillian's quiet life forever. Can she tame his wild bachelor's heart? Blah de blah.’

‘Don't you be a snob. There's nothing like a good romance to pick you up.’

I put it down. ‘It's a bit different from the novel I'm reading for this assignment.’ I say it more breezily than I should.

‘Oh? Go on then. What’s your one about?’

‘Well.’ I sit back. ‘There's this girl who's in rehab for her broken back and her father is being blackmailed. He's a drug dealer. It's Danish. It’s-’

‘Any romance?’

‘She falls in love with her boyfriend's brother, who's a detective, and she-’

‘Ah, torn between two men. Any sexy bits?’

‘Uh, kind of.’ Thinking quickly, because it's tricky to explain the Scandinavian Noir context of the nude ice-fishing scene. ‘Just, you know, frustrated but not going anywhere.’

‘Hmm. Mine sounds better.’

‘Chuck the Impossibly Tanned? Or this one, the Duke of--’ I check-- ‘Really? Notchester?’

I flip it open. ‘Sheba arched her back luxuriously as the Duke ran lascivious fingers down her flushed throat towards the boundless promise of her bountiful breasts.’ She's going all out, this-- Mirabelle Thorne? That's a terrible pen-name.’

‘I've had a few of hers. She does nice historical ones with lords and that.’

‘Aha, look at this bit. Thrusting with gasping impatience between her yada yada. Thrusting, I told you.’

Nan looks at me, waiting. I haven’t told her.

So I tell her.

She raises a sparsely pencilled eyebrow. ‘You judge the whole lot on one bleeding word? Snob.’

‘I'm not a snob.’

‘Snob.’

‘Don't say that, romances just aren't my thing.’

‘Well, what does that say about you? Can't appreciate the budding love of two young people.’

‘Two or possibly more young people. This one has a heart-wrenching choice between the man who adores her and the man who desires her. One of them's a doctor. Oh. Anatomy of the Heart. I see. And the other one's-- really? An alpaca breeder. What kind of a choice is that?’

‘The doctor's job is to be the rich bastard and the other one's her true love.’ Nan glares over her mug.

‘No, actually, I think the doctor’s poor. The alpaca breeder's fairly well-off.’ I’m skimming through it.

‘Well, that's probably true. You seen what they're charging for an alpaca cardigan? Bleeding rip-off merchants.’

‘She shivered at the memory of his efficient fingers. Efficient--'

‘What you need to do is, you need to sit your Alex down with a couple of nice romances and give him an idea of what you want. Give him a role model. Young lads these days don't have any role models, all these single mums and feefo workers.’

She might have meant FIFO. Which may or may not have been a snipe at both my brother and my mother in one handy package.

‘Who says I want this?’ I look down at the cover artwork, which shows both the devilishly rumpled doctor and the rosy-cheeked alpaca man. Which one has the efficient fingers?

I put the book down. ‘Thanks for the tea, Nan. I'd better get a move on with this assignment. Do you want me to cook dinner tonight?’

Nan finds her place in The Duke of Notchester, picking up the story mid-kiss. ‘No thanks, pet. We've got some spaghetti bol left from last night. If leftovers aren't beneath you.’

‘Sounds fine.’

I take the last chocolate cream biscuit when I leave.

When I come out of my room later to get my reheated spaghetti, I’m not that much further along with my work. I’m still replaying Dr Chase's critique of my draft: unfocused and derivative, showing only a surface understanding of the criteria required.

Yeah, well.

Nan’s watching some cooking show on TV; a wok full of hot prawns and a posh summery voice.

I contemplate the gap between the dinners we all tell each other we're eating and the actual dinner, the one in my hands.

And take the plate back to my desk to eat.

It isn't a desk, it's a card table in the corner, below the clock and the Johnny Cash calendar. I've wasted plenty of time on this assignment already. It’s time to get serious.

I contemplate the gap between the romances that we read and the actual boyfriend, who’s totally committed babe but just super busy right now.

Does the novel's idiosyncratic narrative style add interest to the text, or is it a distracting literary conceit? 1200 words. Use examples.

I go back to the kitchen for a biscuit. All the chocolate creams are gone.

Nan’s watching something about celebrities eating cockroaches.

When I get back to my desk I discover that the assignment still hasn't written itself.

Twenty-four and a half minutes or so later, I find myself chewing on my pen and I’m swearing because it's an expensive one-- I bought it for myself in the hope that it will inspire me to write better. Or more. Or more better. I can't tell if it's worked yet, but the pen’s starting to look ratty.

She shivered at the memory of his efficient fingers. Was his mind elsewhere, as he performed with admirable though robotic fervour?

I go back out to the lounge, which is empty of either cats or Nans. I find Anatomy of the Heart sitting on top of Holiday in Heaven and open it somewhere in the middle.

He watched her through narrowed eyes. Does he find her as one-dimensional as we do? She raised her face, lips parted in surprise, closer to him than--

‘Pet?’

‘What?

Nan’s calling from the kitchen.

‘Tea?’

‘No, thanks.’

I go back to my room. The book is still in my hands.

This one wasn't written by Mirabelle Thorne, I don't have to check the cover to know that.

I check the cover.

April Winter. There’s a definite touch of dryness to her humour; the pseudonym, the title. Or is it a him? It could be. It could be anyone. I've heard a few tales of prestigious authors who churn out romances to stay busy while they wait to get famous. Or to pay bills, between critically acclaimed works that nobody wants.

I sit down again and open it. It’s a romance, yes. The strong-willed city girl who thinks she’s in love with the wealthy country-boy alpaca farmer until she meets the handsome, serious, magnetic, penniless local doctor. Small town. Impossible choice. Whatever. The plot’s predictable and the woman isn't worth the Chapter Eight punch-up over her.

But there’s something about it. Something sly, indefinable. The alpaca man is so smug, and the woman so exhaustingly feisty- when the doctor finally wins her, the town rejoices but I am left uneasy. The doctor has a coolness, a detachment. Even as he's declaring his love to her in the moonlit garden behind the old pub he's keeping something back. He's playing a game.

I wonder if a sequel would unravel this, but of course: romance novels don't have sequels. She gets her man and there's no more to say.

I get out my phone and do an internet search for April Winter, author. Anatomy of the Heart is her only book. Maybe she has other pseudonyms. Other names, under which she slips strange and unsettling love stories into the world. Or is it a he?

The clock says eighteen past two in the morning.

I pick up my pen and begin to write 1200 words on the gap between the type of text that makes a writer look intellectual and the actual books that keep you sitting up reading at your card table, far into the night.

I use examples.

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#original writing #original work #short story #anatomy of the heart #writerblr

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junie-bugg · 4 years

Text

Prospects and Propriety - Chapter One

Summary: Everlark Jane Austen AU

“We’re very similar, you and I.” He turns the leaf over in his palm one last time and then presses it into my hand. His fingertips are warm where the leaf is brittle.

We are, aren’t we? Me, a girl forced to marry by the rules and expectations of society and him, a boy whose freewill was stolen away before he could even walk. We’re both prisoners. Destined to fates we did not choose ourselves. Now I see what was so funny to him.

The two of us: we are absolutely tragic.

Katniss Everdeen and her younger sister Prim are the adopted daughters of Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, a wealthy man with no biological heirs. By the rules of Panem society, an older sibling must be married before the younger can wed. In a time when women have no means of making their own living, marriage is the only way for Katniss to save her sister from destitution and set her up for a happy marriage of her own. Katniss sets her sights on Mr. Gale Hawthorne, a wealthy man who just moved to Whitley and who seems to have his eye on her. But what of the poor baker’s boy who once took a beating to save her life?

Read here on Tumblr or on my AO3 account: izzacrosswriting

Author’s Note:

This is a story inspired by my love of Everlark and Jane Austen’s novels. I am in no way an expert on the Regency period and I include fashions/details that are not historically accurate.

The setting is an alternate England-like Panem.

The plot is my own (Gale is not Mr. Darcy people, don’t get it twisted) but does borrow aesthetics and ideas directly from Jane Austen and Suzanne Collins.

The cast of characters is a mix of canon Hunger Games and original characters I’ve created.

I plan on including links to music and ambiance videos I used while writing so feel free to explore those! I typically play nature sounds and music together on my laptop so sorry if you're reading on a phone!

Warning: I do plan on this series getting a lil smutty. There will be graphic depictions of violence, sex, and possibly death. I’m still working everything out:)

Nature ambiance(s):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZ9uyQI3pF0&t=1694s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUjUhZ1Yy7Y

Music:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cc9ofwF-e4

(If you want to listen to this on Spotify it's called 'The Secret Life of Daydreams' from the Pride and Prejudice soundtrack.)

Word Count: 1,727

Chapter One

I run my hands through the tall grasses at my waist. It’s the perfect morning. The crisp air doesn’t quite hold that harsh bite of winter that will soon sweep the countryside in blizzards and ice. Emerald leaves hint at the coming autumn with the slightest tint of yellow along their stems. The sun shines bright through branches and I watch the forest come alive with squirrels and chipmunks that scurry through the thick brush. The dirt path I followed to get here grazes the edge of the woods, but I’ve abandoned it to traipse through the wild-flower dotted hillsides instead.

From this high up, I can see everything. The village of Whitley lies to the west. I can just make out the rooftops of the squat brick buildings off the main square. By this time the merchants will have opened their shops for business. The rest of the countryside is peppered with grand estates and bountiful farmland. Rivers gleam like veins of silver and dirt roads are wreathed in the dust kicked up by horse-drawn carriages. I wish I could stay and sit here all day. I would drink in the sun and drown in the low hum of insects, though Haymitch has warned me of the nasty gossip that follows a lady with a tan and a set of freckles.

A lady. I almost snort. Apparently, that’s what I am. Or what I need to be if anyone is ever going to ask for my hand in marriage. The thought ruins the good mood my morning stroll had put me in. I throw myself down among the tall grasses and begin plucking mindlessly at their stems.

Haymitch Abernathy, the legal guardian of me and my sister, has never been one to force us into doing things we dislike. I’m allowed to ride my horse alone, hunt with a bow and arrow, and take off into the woods whenever I please, like some woodland nymph from one of my father’s old stories. If it wasn’t for Prim and my greenhouse back at home I would probably live out here. Until it got cold of course. I’m allowed more freedom than any other young girl in the county, I’m sure. But not even Haymitch can protect me from matrimony.

My sister is excited for me. I imagine she’s fantasized about her wedding since she knew what a wedding was. To her, marriage is a romantic fairytale. A strong, handsome man of large fortune will sweep her off her feet and give her an estate to run and small, cherub-faced children to care for. To me, marriage sounds like a death sentence. They say if I’m lucky, I’ll marry for love as well as for fortune, but I never want to love someone as much as my mother loved my father. Because when he died, in a way, so did she. The only person I know that I truly love is Prim.

Primrose Everdeen, my little sister, was never the outdoorsy type like me. She’s fair, with golden blonde hair that hangs in ringlets past her slight shoulders, and a face as fresh and as pure as a spring dewdrop. She spends her days drawing, flower arranging, and studying languages with my old tutor Mrs. Winthrop.

“She’ll be a highly accomplished woman by the time I’m done with her. Mark my words, this young girl is special,” Mrs. Winthrop had said to Haymitch mere days after first starting Prim’s lessons. She had been my tutor for years and had never said anything nearly as flattering about me. Sullen Katniss Everdeen must have been a lost cause in her eyes.

I’m four years older than Prim who’s a mere twelve. We share the same parents, though we look almost nothing alike. Where she received the fair skin, blonde curls, and gentle blue eyes of our mother, I received the olive-toned, straight black, and storm grey palette of our father.

I sit up suddenly, aware that I left home hours ago and it must be getting time for my lessons. I dread heading back to that stuffy room where I’m required to sit straight and learn to be “lady-like” under the scrutinizing gaze of Ms. Effie Trinket, my new tutor. Manners are of the utmost importance to her, seeing as she makes her living off of teaching them. She considers being late an unforgivable sin.

With this in mind, I take my time gathering wild-flowers. There are so many at my feet, their delicate white and yellow petals peeking up amongst the grasses. I deftly craft two flower chains. One for me, which I place on the crown of my head, and one for Prim clutched in my hands. I notice some dirt under my nails and smile, wondering what Effie will say when I arrive late and grimy.

She purses her lips and crosses her arms as I enter the room. “Where were you?” She demands in that high pitched voice of hers.

“Out,” I shrug. I hadn’t seen Prim on my way in so I’m still clutching her flower crown. I offer it to Effie instead. “Flowers?” She squints at my offering, probably checking for bugs, before gingerly taking it and placing it down on a side table.

“Katniss, I need you to take today’s lesson seriously.” Her clipped tone sets my teeth on edge.

“I always do-” I start, but Effie cuts me off.

“Don’t lie to me, Katniss. I know you don’t care for etiquette. I know that to you a spoon is just a spoon, even when that spoon is a soup spoon and should only be used for soup!”

Again with the soup spoon thing, it was one time. But she’s right. I find learning manners and etiquette a waste of time. I’ve only been out in society for a short while. I barely attend balls seeing as I’m sixteen and prefer to stay at home anyway. I look up and realize that Effie is still talking at me.

“Are you even listening? Mrs. Winthrop was right, you are hopeless.” She sighs and wipes non-existent dust off of her shimmery lilac skirts. “It is imperative that you start paying attention and make some kind of progress in these lessons. Mr. Gale Hawthorne has recently taken possession of Templeton and is traveling here, as we speak, to take up residence indefinitely. Do you know what this could mean for you?” Suddenly, her annoyance melts away and is replaced by a teary, almost hopeful expression. The way this woman’s emotions swing back and forth between happy and exasperated hurts my head. She comes to clasp my face between her palms. “Mr. Hawthorne earns ten thousand a year, Katniss. Ten thousand!”

I have in fact heard of the Hawthornes. Maybe those lessons have had more of an impact on me than I thought. I was forced to spend months poring over books filled with the names and family trees of wealthy, well-known families that I had either already been acquainted with or might be acquainted with in the future. A healthy knowledge of people, especially rich people, will get you far in life. At least that’s what Effie says.

Gale Hawthorne is the eldest son of the wealthy businessman Ezra Hawthorne. I forget exactly how Mr. Hawthorne first made his fortune but the word mine sticks around in my head. What his mine produced, I’m not sure. Precious gems? Gold? Coal? All I know is the Hawthornes are incredibly wealthy, and Gale being the eldest son inherited when his father died. He is in possession of everything from the family fortune to a legion of servants to the many extravagant houses in Town. Now it seems he’s grown tired with the city and has decided to try his hand at country living. Good, I think. A wealthy man who’s used to the high society of the Capitol won’t last long out here. He’ll be out of my hair before the month’s up. Effie must not realize this since she’s still staring happily into my face.

“And?” I ask.

“Well, he’ll fall in love with you and ask for your hand in marriage!” She beams as if this is obvious. “If you play your cards right of course. For instance, he won’t find you very agreeable if all you do is scowl at him like you do me-” I jerk out of her grasp.

Of course. Marriage. It’s one of the only things Effie has talked about the entire time I’ve been her pupil.

“Yes, Mr. Abernathy warned me that'd you'd be. . .avoidant. But don’t you see? That’s the reason I’m here. To teach you how to win a husband! It’s an art you know.” She sighs, probably seeing the panicked look on my face, and slips back into a tone of tired annoyance. “You’ll have to marry someone, Katniss. Might as well marry knowing you’ll spend the rest of your life in the lap of luxury.”

She’s right, of course. There’s no way for women to make their own living. I can’t go to university to study business or law, I can’t run my own shop, I can’t inherit Haymitch’s estate or fortune. When he dies the money goes to some estranged cousin on his father’s side. I am a woman, therefore, I am destined to either marry or die poor and unprotected. And Prim…

If I don’t marry, then Prim can’t marry. One of the rules of proper Panem society is that a younger sibling cannot marry unless the eldest has, meaning I must be happily settled before my younger sister can even entertain the idea of love. If I don’t get married and Haymitch goes and does something stupid like die, there will be nothing I can do. For either of us. We’d be turned out of the house and left to beg for scraps. And I will not let that happen to Prim. Not again.

I force myself to swallow past the lump in my throat and spend the rest of the afternoon paying careful attention to Effie. She’s trying to teach me to communicate with men via body language, long gazes, and the fluttering of lashes.

This is the only way to save Prim, and with each horrible flutter I produce and each disappointed sigh from Effie, I feel my chances slipping away.

#everlark #thg #thg fanfic #everlark fluff #katniss everdeen #Peeta Mellark #gale hawthorne #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair #pride and prejudice #jane austen au #regency #everlarkfic #The Hunger Games

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magicianparrish · 4 years

Text

Wasting No Time

Yay it’s pynch secret santa gift exchange time! My secret santa giftee is @alliwannadoiswrite :) They wanted some canon stuff, with college, the Barns, domestic fluff, Adam being psychic, among other things :) This does have spoilers for Call Down the Hawk! So if you haven’t read it yet, I would not suggest reading this until after you have! So I tried my best to weave all of these things in. I hope you like it. Happy Holidays! Thanks to @pynchpromptweek for getting this together :D

Adam couldn’t stop thinking about Ronan. This had become something common in the past year that they had almost been officially together. Being with Ronan and loving Ronan was something that had consumed Adam unexpectedly, and wholly. He did not regret one thing about it though. The languid summer nights that they had spent together before Adam went up to Cambridge, were some of the best memories Adam will ever have, and he cherished them greatly.

He also loved college life too. He had made his group of friends surprisingly quickly and found he cherished their friendship more than he anticipated. Though there was still plenty of room for their growth, and he knew he could never compare them to his friends back home. It was impossible to given the circumstances. But he now had given them a brief introduction to his other side, the world of magical forests, and demons, and boyfriends who had the power to take things out of his dreams. Their feet were in the door, and Adam was still hesitating on whether he should push them through or push them out and shut, lock the door and hide the key. Fletcher was still recovering from the trashed dorm room filled with dream crabs with human teeth, and a motorcycle that shouldn’t work but did. He did his best to hide it, but Adam knew that things had fundamentally changed between them. Adam was still trying to figure out if it was for better or worse.

Adam enjoyed most of his classes, though taking the ones that were gen ed requirements was sometimes like pulling teeth. His professors were all just a little bit quirky, but they all meant well. The coursework was challenging and stimulating, something that Adam used as a great distraction when his thoughts got too wild. The food wasn’t great, but Adam did not have high expectations. Anything would be better than what he lived off of growing up in Henrietta. He was thankful that he could have a steady three meals every day. Something he made sure to take advantage of no matter how busy he got. He would make the most of the thousands of dollars that meal plans cost; even with a full ride. And especially since he had to make up for the damage done to his dorm room.

Adam had tried to go on the next few weeks like everything was normal. Even if a nagging voice in the back of his mind constantly reminded him that no, everything was not fine. He watched as the leaves change color as autumn came in full swing. For the first time, he really felt what it meant for winter to be lurking around the corner. It was only early November, but Cambridge already had its first flurry of the year. That had come as a bit of a surprise to Adam, who wasn’t expecting any snow until at least after Christmas. After Halloween, the temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees, as if Mother Nature was antsy to get on with winter and leave autumn behind. He had found a Columbia jacket in one of the many thrift stores he and Gillian frequented in great condition, and bought it for himself at the advice of her. Gillian who had grown up in Saratoga Springs, New York, knew about cold winters.

Midterms were closing in on Adam faster than he thought. It felt as if he were just moving into his dorm yesterday, sweating through his shirt helping his roommate, and future friend Fletcher, move a mini-fridge up three flights of stairs in the middle of August. But even the summers in Cambridge were not nearly as bad, thanks to it being close to the Charles River and Boston Harbor. Unlike Henrietta which was landlocked deep in western Virginia in the Shenandoah Valley.

He was sitting in the library preparing for his big quiz he had to take tomorrow morning. Even with half of his hearing permanently missing, Adam still found the library restless. There were too many people in one place, who had the same idea as he did. Doing the last minute cramming for midterms they had coming up. But with too many people, and running into friends and colleagues, it turned to striking conversations, and then being too loud. Adam wished he had been able to book a study corral, but those went faster than hot concert tickets here. Even if the library had been completely silent, it wouldn’t have helped his own thoughts that seemed to be screaming.

He had attempted to scry this morning, feeling something just a bit off. The session wasn’t very successful, so he tried pulling some tarot cards. Adam was thankful Fletcher was such a heavy sleeper. The cards he pulled weren’t exactly worrisome to Adam, but he wasn’t exactly happy with the outcome either. It also did not help that Ronan seemed to be a little more elusive than usual. Adam hoped he wasn’t finding himself into too much danger. He couldn’t stop thinking about who this Bryde character was, and what they were doing with Ronan. Adam wanted to know more about him.

Finally, Adam huffed and closed his books. He glanced at the watch that Ronan had given him as a gift. Thankfully they were both in the same time zone, so the time displayed was accurate. Adam did the mental calculations quickly to see if he could swing the crazy idea that had formed in his head last night. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was still early in the day.

“Screw it,” he muttered to himself.

He practically swept all his books off the table and into his backpack and darted out of the library. He shoved the code into his door and rushed in. Fletcher was on his bed reading a book and he startled.

“Adam! What’s got you in a big hurry?” he asked.

Adam didn’t respond for a moment and was too busy replacing the books with some clothes, and other necessities because you never know. When he zipped his backpack up, he finally looked at Fletcher.

“Going home to visit Ronan,” he responded.

Fletcher’s mouth dropped and his eyes widened. “Like right now? Adam, we have a presentation tomorrow morning!”

Adam nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Fletcher sputtered for a moment before shaking his head. “How are you getting all the way to Virginia?”

Adam shrugged his shoulders. “The motorcycle.”

“The motorcycle? Do you even have a helmet? Do you even know how to ride it?” he exclaimed.

“I’ll learn on the way. I promise, I’ll be there for Alexander’s class tomorrow,” Adam replied.

Fletcher murmured something under his breath and then heaved himself off the bed. Adam watched as he dug around in his closet for something and came out with a helmet. He tossed it to Adam who caught it.

“Doesn’t exactly go with the aesthetic, but my Vespa's helmet is better than no helmet. Also wear that leather jacket that Gill and you bought, it’s insulated. And wear gloves! Adam, your hands will be exposed. It’s cold out, and I don’t want you getting frostbite.”

Adam had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at his roommate’s dramatics but did as he was told anyway. He yanked the brown leather jacket and put it on over his t-shirt he was wearing. Adam didn’t own any actual gloves, but he did have a pair of gardening gloves he used when working in the greenhouse for his botany club he joined, thanks to his proctor who also ran the club. They would have to do.

“Okay, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Adam said as he ran out of the room with his helmet in tow.

“Be careful!” Fletcher called out after him.

Adam ran out of the building and went towards the place where he had hidden the illegal and impossible motorcycle. Adam didn’t even have a proper license for this, and he would just have to hope no cops pulled him over. He took his phone out of his pocket, just to make sure he was still good for time. And a small part of him hoped that Ronan had texted him something, anything. No cigar for that though.

“Ronan, you better be there,” he muttered before plugging in his headphones that Ronan dreamt for him and turning on a queue of audio files that had all his lectures on. Just because he made a whimsical decision based on slight psychic intuition did not mean his academic studies went on the back burner.

He looked down at the motorcycle that was between his legs. How hard could this possibly be? He knew the guts of these as well as he knew his own hand, thanks to working as a mechanic for most of his young life. He turned it on and hit the throttle a little to test it out. He lurched forward unexpectedly, and he let out a yelp. Finally, he got some semblance of control and made his way down.

There were definitely a few close calls, and he had nearly fallen a few times trying to get used to the motor underneath him. Thankfully the highway didn’t seem too busy even for a Sunday. He made it back to the Barns in good time, with the sun just over its zenith for the day. He pulled into the Barns but was hit with a sense of dread and unpleasantness. Adam couldn’t think straight, but it was eerily reminiscent to when Cabeswater was being unmade due to the demon that had been unleashed thanks to the Greenmantles. But Adam pushed through and when he left whatever invisible barrier that was there, it felt as if he was breathing properly after being underwater for too long. He still wanted to have the element of surprise for Ronan though and pulled up only halfway to the driveway. He cut the engine and made his way up by foot and snuck in through the back door. Adam knew Ronan was home because the BMW was in the driveway, but he didn’t know if he would be out in the fields or in the house.

Adam had made his way into the kitchen and saw Ronan. His first reaction was relief at seeing his boyfriend but then surprise at seeing the handgun being leveled at him by said boyfriend. Adam put his hands up.

“Jesus, Ronan, it’s me!” he exclaimed. He turned on the kitchen light so he could get a better look. He took off the helmet and tucked it under his arm, still eyeing the gun in Ronan’s hand. “You know how to take a surprise well.”

It had taken Adam back that Ronan seemed to be paranoid about something. He didn’t trust that Adam was really who he was. But he was just glad to be home and close to Ronan again. He had only talked to Ronan on the phone the night before, but it seemed so far away. When they hugged, Adam wrapped his arms tightly around Ronan and made sure to revel in this. How much he missed Ronan’s warmth, and how much he loved it too. He felt the thrumming of the ley line under his feet, the magic of the Barns and the man who lived in it. It made Adam feel alive in a way he didn’t at Harvard, no matter how much he liked it there. He made sure to wish Ronan an early happy birthday. Even if he only had three hours to spare here, he would make good use of every second.

He did not expect things to take such a sharp turn as they did. He had been thinking about Bryde, and he wanted to see what was up with him. What he did not expect was something too bright and horrible that words could not even begin to describe it. Adam had never seen or even felt anything like it before. Not even when he was being possessed by the Demon. It had shaken Adam a bit to find out that his heart had actually stopped beating for a moment when he was snapped back into his mind thanks to Ronan’s talon knife. It had been like a dream; he couldn’t possibly remember all the details but was left feeling even more uneasy than before. Normally, he was able to remember his scrying sessions with great detail. The fact that he couldn’t was worrisome to Adam. Something big was moving, and he didn’t know what. But it seemed to be aiming for Ronan and anyone associated with him. Which included Adam.

They both sat on the cold tile floor of the master bathroom. Ronan had gotten the first aid kit and was slowly cleaning the wound that had been inflicted on his hand. The antiseptic burned a little, but he let Ronan continue.

“Parrish, what the fuck did you see?” Ronan asked again.

Adam had remained silent for a while. The images though he could not properly articulate them, and could not fully remember them, still seemed to be burned in the back of his eyelids every time he blinked. Adam shook his head.

“I-I don’t know Ronan,” Adam said. His voice was hoarse, and his throat sore from letting out a guttural scream he didn’t recall doing.

“Whatever you saw, it made you scream as if you were dying. Adam, your heart literally stopped beating!” Ronan exclaimed.

Adam glared up at where Ronan sat on the toilet bowl lid. Of course, Adam knew that when he came to it felt as if his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. It felt as if he hadn’t breathed in years.

“I know, Lynch. I can’t describe it. It’s like a fading dream. But I know it wasn’t Bryde.”

“How do you know though?” Ronan asked.

He was still trying to stop the bleeding from the cuts that went all the way up his hand and arm. He dabbed a little more of the antiseptic on a cotton swab and gently rubbed it to sterilize. Adam let out a hiss. Ronan grunted, as his way of saying sorry. Adam took in a deep breath and let out a long exhale.

“I just know. It was dark, and it felt almost similar to the demon’s energy. But stronger?” he tried to explain.

Ronan’s eyes looked up from Adam’s arm and to Adam’s eyes. His eyebrows pinched and his lips formed a scowl.

“Stronger than the demon? Parrish, what the fuck does that mean?” he demanded.

Adam threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I don’t know Lynch! This entire situation just seems messed up. You’re seeing doppelgangers of your mother, and hearing voices in your dream that cause them to be uncontrollable? The energy I’ve been feeling when I scried and even when I pull cards feels off. Something weird is happening, and I think it’s bigger than just you and me.”

Ronan just let out a growl of frustration and didn’t push the subject any further. Which Adam was glad for. He didn't want this to ruin the small amount of time they had together. He wasted enough of it digging into things that he didn’t know the first thing about. Adam watched silently as Ronan finished cleaning his wounds and carefully wrapped bandages around it. When he was finished Ronan washed his hands and walked out. Adam followed.

Ronan was standing by the large window in the master bedroom. The sun was setting, casting long shadows and the bright glow of the evening sun. Ronan’s body was tensed up, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Adam padded up quietly next to him and forced his hand to intertwine with Ronan’s.

“This is fucked,” Ronan finally said.

Adam did not disagree. “Yeah, it is. But we’ll find a way through it.”

Ronan turned his attention from the outside world and gave it to Adam. Adam would always be grateful for Ronan and the unconditional love he had given Adam when Adam had never been offered it. Adam was already meeting Ronan halfway when it came to that. The sunlit up half of Ronan’s face while covering the other half in shadows. The light made his ice irises even more stunning than usual. His lips were in the usual scowl, but somehow it was softer.

“How do you know?” he wondered.

Adam squeezed his hand. “Because we’re stronger together.”

He watched as Ronan did his smoker’s breath and closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them back, Adam put a hand behind his head, feeling the bristles of the shaved hair and rubbed his thumb back and forth. He watched as Ronan’s pupils dilated, and gently pulled him down for a kiss. Ronan was more than happy to oblige Adam’s request. After a few moments, Adam released. He smirked at his boyfriend.

“Now, we only have a few hours. And I did say I needed to take your clothes off, so since we’re here…” he teased, leaving the rest for Ronan to figure out.

Ronan let out a harsh bark of laughter and rolled his eyes. He gently pushed Adam’s head away, which elicited a laugh from Adam.

“Parrish, you fucker.”

Adam grabbed Ronan by the collar of his t-shirt and dragged him to the bed before pushing him down. Adam then climbed on top of Ronan.

“Well, that’s kind of the point isn’t it?” he asked with a smirk.

“Not what I meant, shithead,” Ronan growled.

“Let’s not waste any more time, Lynch. I’m on a tight schedule.”

Ronan scoffed but pulled Adam down and into a deep kiss.

#adam parrish #ronan lynch #pynch #trc #cdth #pynchpromptweek #writing stuff

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frostedpuffs · 6 years

Text

Downpour

Downpour Summary: Ladybug and Chat Noir tell each other their ages during a heavy rainstorm, but with the new bit of information they learn about their partner, they start developing other sorts of questions a little too deep for two teenage kids. Rated: T Pairing(s): Ladybug/Chat Noir Word count: 7,080 Also read on: ao3

Based on a convo between @imploder and I. (There are brief mentions of the concept of death, but I promise it’s not super angsty! I’ve put a lot of fluff in here.)

"Sometimes I wonder how old you are."

Ladybug froze on her feet at her partner's choice of words, thankful she had stopped walking lest she step right off of the ledge of the rooftop they'd paused upon. Her eyes landed on Chat Noir's, which glowed so green and bright in the low yellow hues of the city's lights, his gaze soft and brow furrowed in thought.

"Not in a creepy way," Chat Noir continued before she could form her reply. He placed his baton on his lower back. "Just in a general sense. Like, I know you're not really five-thousand years old—" he paused to grin at her, "—right?"

A laugh formed in Ladybug's throat. "Right."

"Right." Chat Noir's lips curled as his smile grew. "But I do get curious. I wonder who you are and where your favorite restaurants are and what your favorite color is-"

"Pink," she offered. That was one small note of information she didn't mind dishing out.

Chat Noir chuckled. He sat on the edge of the rooftop, legs dangling in the open air and black suit bathed in Parisian moonlight. He looked nice like that. Attractive, even. (As if she didn't already know he was.)

"Good to know," he replied. He made a show of tapping a clawed finger against his head. "I'm storing that bit of info in the back of my mind for some potential gift-giving in the near future. Now all I need to know is your favorite type of flower and maybe then I'll finally learn how to woo you."

Ladybug giggled behind her hand. "I think you're getting a little side-tracked, kitty."

"That's not hard when you're around," Chat Noir replied with an added wink for good measure. "You are quite the distraction, my Lady."

With a good-humored roll of her eyes, Ladybug sat down next to her partner and gave him a playful shove. It was times like this that she had a hard time deciphering whether or not Chat Noir was joking. Though, considering his confession a few months ago, she wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't… But she didn't want to think about that, or what it would do to her heart (which she knew all too well how easily it fell for kind-hearted, green-eyed boys.)

"But, really," Chat continued. He nudged her shoulder with his own to capture her attention in a friendly manner. "I do wonder who exactly I'm protecting the city with. For all I know, you could be a thirty-five-year-old mother of three and here I am in love with you and flirting to no end-"

Thirty-five-year-old mother of- of THREE?

She was going to kick her partner's leather-clad ass into the next dimension.

"Do I look that old?" Ladybug exclaimed, laughter spilling from her lips. "I'm not even old enough to get married, you jerk!"

She was half prepared to pick him up and threaten to throw him over the edge of roof. But she cared about him a little too much to do that.

(Besides, it would be kind of ineffective. The guy had a baton and a super-suit that could break his fall.)

Chat Noir shot her an amused smirk, mirth lacing his tone. "I'm joking, Buginette. In all seriousness, you look like you're no older than sixteen or seventeen," he said. He shifted his position so he was more comfortable, gloved hands resting on the concrete of the rooftop and tail swishing languidly. "I know we're not allowed to talk about personal details, but… I wish we could share some stuff with each other, you know? Just like tiny things so we could get to know each other a little more."

As she listened to Chat Noir speak, Ladybug nodded in understanding. She knew how he felt. They'd become so close over the past year-and-a-half they had been protecting the city together, but in reality they barely knew each other at all. Sure, she knew Chat Noir had a love for puns and rom-coms and harbored a soft spot for kittens, but she didn't know his favorite band or even what his sense of style was like. Did he even like fashion? Or was he a T-shirt, sweatpants kind of guy?

There were unlimited details concerning her friend that Ladybug often pondered about. Chat Noir was her best friend—she trusted him with her life—and yet… There were times where she sincerely wondered if, perhaps in a different world where they weren't superheroes, would they even have been friends at all?

Of course we would be, her mind shouted at her, Chat Noir is a wonderful friend and I love him as much as a best friend could!

...But she did wonder.

"I get it," she said, voice soft as she rested her chin in her palm. "It's hard not to be curious. Especially after I've known you for so long."

Ladybug could feel something radiating from her partner. It was like an odd air had fallen over them; a sort of sadness that neither of them had felt around each other before, almost like… They both wanted something.

And they did. Ladybug did, at least.

(Damn the rules. Damn the rules for making them have to be so secretive. Damn Papillon and his stupid obsession with the Miraculous.)

She knew they couldn't tell each other their identities for safety reasons. That was a no-brainer. Ladybug had always been one to stick to the rules, especially if breaking them could put herself in danger.

But would ages really be much of a problem? After all, there happened to be a good two-million people in Paris. It would be near impossible for her partner to figure out her identity out of the hundreds of thousands of other teenagers that inhabited the city.

"I'm fifteen," she whispered suddenly, surprising herself. The warmth of her breath clouded into the chilly night air like a ghost of summer on her lips. "I'm only fifteen-years-old."

Ladybug didn't meet Chat's eyes at first. A beat of silence rolled between them, filled with the sounds of the street below. Her cheeks began to flush from slight embarrassment (and regret), her skin hot—unlike the frosty weather that caused the tips of her fingers to feel numb. Ladybug hoped Chat Noir's silence didn't indicate that he thought of her differently if she happened to be a lot younger than he was.

It wasn't until after he'd let out a faint, "Me too," that she gazed deep into his cat-like irides, her heart skipping a beat and rattling wildly in her chest.

Me too, he'd said.

Me too.

They stared at each other like that for what was probably longer than appropriate, but Ladybug didn't mind. It was… Different, knowing something so simple about her partner, but the fact that she was privy to that set of information made her feel oddly excited.

She and Chat Noir were the same age. They were the same age and they were best friends and Ladybug wouldn't have had it any other way.

"We're just kids," Chat Noir said after a moment. He pulled his feet up so they were no longer dangling over the edge of the building and instead crossed his legs upon the cold floor of the roof. His hands wove around the leathery texture of his tail as if he was trying to distract himself. It didn't seem to be working. "You ever think about that? We're just kids and we've been given this huge responsibility to protect an entire city, and not to mention whatever else we've got going on in our lives. I mean, fuck..."

He didn't finish that sentence. He ran his clawed fingers through his hair and sighed, momentarily seizing the messy blonde strands that hung from his head with a loose hold before letting his hands fall to his lap.

Ladybug didn't need to ask whether or not he was okay. It wasn't often she heard him use offensive language—that was usually only reserved for times of stress. And by the looks of it…

"You mean what?" she asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The amount of tension she felt resonating within his form was distressing.

Chat Noir offered nothing more than a shrug in response.

A sigh blew from Ladybug's lips. He must have had a bad day.

Sympathetic, she reached down to cup his hand within her own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Whatever was going on with him, she'd be there with him to ride it out. That's what friends were for.

(And best friends—partners—would always be there to help.)

As she watched cars stroll down the street below, she found herself thinking about what Chat Noir had said. He was quiet now, which was okay; Ladybug was used to the occasional comfortable silence between the two of them. It was nice at times. Except now it felt slightly tainted as a bitter air hovered above them and left a sour taste in her mouth.

Chat Noir had a point, didn't he?

"We are just kids," she said, voice barely above a whisper as she watched two children cross the street hand-in-hand with their mother, the three of them dressed up in late-autumn attire. "We're young, aren't we? Compared to a lot of people, I mean. We're not even eighteen yet and here we are with this huge weight on our shoulders. I don't know why I've never thought about this before."

The squeeze of her hand in her partner's grasp caused Ladybug to shift her focus to him. His eyes softened once they met her own, lips pulled down into a small frown and shoulders slumped as if he really was holding an immense responsibility atop them. "I know," he said through a gravelly voice. "It's hard sometimes."

Ladybug nodded in response. She let out a faint laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Now I'm just wondering what in the hell Master Fu was thinking when he decided to leave the fate of Paris in the hands of two teenagers."

"It's crazy, right?" Chat asked, tone lighter than it had been a few seconds prior. "I mean, I had a breakdown last night over a mildly bad grade in English—because let's be honest, that's a hard language to learn—and now I'm supposed to save the entire city of Paris? When I can't even pass a test?"

Ladybug shrugged. "I guess beating up an akuma is a good way to release that negative energy."

"True," Chat Noir replied, his lips quirking upward slightly, "nothing feels better after a stressful day of school than punching a villain in the face."

"Right in the kisser," laughed Ladybug. "Sometimes you just gotta knock their teeth out to feel better about your day."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed. "Thank you, Ladybug, for understanding how hard it is to be a stressed-out student. Where would I be without you?"

Ladybug, finding herself snickering at his response, gave her partner a pat on the back. "Probably still in your bedroom screaming about homework."

The solemn conversation from before seemed distant—almost forgettable at that point. They were laughing and having a good time just being two teenage kids sharing an odd sort of friendship and it was nice. No, they didn't know each other's names or favorite hobbies, but they did know each other. And that fact alone was enough to make Ladybug ever so grateful to have Chat Noir by her side.

He was an amazing friend, even if she didn't see him in her day-to-day life.

(She wondered, though, what life would be like if she and Chat Noir were friends behind the masks. Would he hang out with her group of friends, or have his own group he spent time with? Would their two groups of friends merge together into one large group of people who got along? Or would her friends and his friends not like each other at all?

Chat Noir was the type of person who was caring and kind, but harbored a great sense of humor that at times was admittedly a little over-the-top. He and Alya would quickly become friends, and he'd probably bond with Nino a little better, but as for Adrien, well… Ladybug didn't know. That was a difficult equation.)

The night was silent save for the passing of cars and street-goers. Ladybug leisurely kicked her legs back and forth over the empty air below. Her heart felt like it was tied in knots. Deep within her chest an unwelcome anxiety occurred, burning a hole into her mind which buzzed with an endless slurry of questions.

She wanted to know more about her partner—her friend. She wanted to know whether or not he was a morning person, his favorite video games, and- and even if he had any pets, like a cat or a dog or a bird or—

Or… Something! She just wanted to know something. Something more.

Thunder rolled above them in the sky, its rumble similar to a giant cat's purr. Ladybug glanced up to see that dark clouds were strolling along near the tip of the Eiffel Tower, where they swarmed as an ominous reminder that the weather report for the night had called for a heavy downpour.

She bet they had a good ten, fifteen minutes before the rain really started to come down. They needed to move to a place where they wouldn't get completely soaked hastily unless they wanted to wake up with a cold the next morning.

"We should move," Chat Noir said, the perk of his cat ears signalling that he'd noticed the change in weather. "I have a physics presentation tomorrow and I am not standing in front of the class with a sore throat and snot dripping out of my nose."

A chuckle rose from Ladybug. "Come on," she said, standing and retracting her yo-yo.

She zipped off to the nearest cover she could find: a restaurant that had closed a few weeks ago with a white awning stretched over the outdoor terrace and seating area. It overlooked the Seine and a small garden which closed before the sun went down, so Ladybug was thankful there would be no onlookers to their conversation. She and Chat Noir didn't get to spend time together often, after all, and she really didn't want to have to be cautious about her actions or what she said in case anyone was watching.

Being herself around Chat Noir was something she found solace in. He out of anyone else in Paris was the only one who knew her deepest secret (because he shared it in his own way.) They had no idea who their friend beneath the mask was, but… That didn't matter. They still shared a bond—a deep attachment—that only made the fact that they occupied the same undisclosed parts of themselves even stronger.

They were Ladybug and Chat Noir; saviors of Paris. And that's all anyone needed to know.

Rain began to spray the top of the awning in heady drops. The wind was loud and bustling, thunder cracked in drones, and on the edges of the terrace, the wooden flooring became slick with water. Ladybug instinctively moved towards the middle of the seating area, where she accidentally bumped shoulders with her friend. Chat Noir smiled and playfully nudged her back.

"What's wrong, Buginette?" asked Chat through a toothy grin. "Can't see in the dark?"

"I'm not lucky enough to have night vision like you do," she retorted with a responding smirk. "It's a little dark, but not terrible. I'll manage."

Chat Noir grasped her hand within his own and gave a light squeeze, making a dramatic show of bowing down to press a ginger kiss on her knuckles. "Well, if my Lady falls, I'll always be there to catch her," he said with a wink, a breath of laughter ghosting her fingers that was heated enough to feel through the fabric of her suit.

Ladybug embarrassingly felt her cheeks warm. Thank goodness for the dim lighting.

(That way she couldn't stare at his stupidly pretty face.)

"What time is it?" she asked instead, voting to change the subject for her own behalf. She didn't need to be thinking about how, ever since he'd gifted her a rose and a kiss on the cheek two months ago, his actions had a different sort of effect on her. "You're not the only one who has a presentation tomorrow morning."

Chat Noir opened his baton to check the time. The blue light of his screen flashing in the darkness caused them both to squint. "It's nine-thirty. We've still got time."

Pulling out a chair from one of the tables, Ladybug sat, feeling a day's worth of exhaustion wash over her bones. It wasn't even ten o' clock and she was ready to curl up in bed for a good night's rest. It wouldn't have been a problem if this hadn't been a normal thing for her at this point. She was always, always tired… And most days the weariness that resided within her body was even worse than it was currently.

They had fought one akuma today. Just one. Sometimes it was two or on rare occurrences, even three, but today it had only been one. And yet she felt as if she was about to drop into a puddle of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, overworked student and pressured superheroine on the terrace floor.

Ugh. She was too tired to do anything.

Ladybug lay her arms on the table and rested her head upon them. She caught Chat Noir's concerned stare before he could glance away. "You going to sit?" she asked, smiling once he complied and scooted in one of the metal chairs, which squeaked against the floor. Now that he had sat closer to her, it was easier to see the dark bags that hung beneath his eyes. Her heart clenched for him. "You look tired."

"I could say the same about you," he said, scooting his chair in so he, too, could rest his head on his forearms. "It seems like we've both had a rough day."

"A rough week," Ladybug corrected.

"A rough month."

"A rough year."

Chat Noir laughed, but the sound was empty of joy. "Yeah."

Something unspoken passed between them. As saddening as it was, the concept of them both hurting on the inside loomed over their heads just as much as the rain clouds, becoming darker and heavier until they spilled whatever contents they held within. Ladybug found herself feeling glad she had someone she could share the feeling with.

(And now she only hoped she wouldn't "spill" in front of her friend.)

It was just too hard sometimes. Balancing being Ladybug and class president and making time to design and spend time with her friends and family and even herself, there was just too much- too much to do- and-

Ugh. Ugh. Ughhhhh.

There just wasn't enough time in one day to get it all done. The endless stress and anxiety and the horrible feeling that she needed to be doing more—

It consumed her, some days.

(And while she'd never give up being Ladybug and felt so blessed to be able to be trusted with such an immense responsibility, it was hard. It was really hard.)

"It's really hard," she whispered out, eyes closing automatically as the rain above the terrace began to beat against the awning. She didn't specify; didn't have the energy to. All Ladybug—Marinette—wanted to do at the moment was just… Sleep.

Sleep sounded nice at the moment.

Although she hadn't elaborated, Chat Noir still hummed in agreement. If her eyes had been open, she probably would have seen him knit his brow. "Yeah," he breathed, reaching across the table to lay a hand atop her own, "it is. It really is, Buginette."

"We're only kids," mumbled Ladybug. Her lips pulled downward into a heavy frown. "Why do we have to worry about so much at once? It's like—" she sighed, opening her eyes, "—like I don't even get to enjoy being a teenager sometimes, you know? Any time I want to hang out with friends, I always have to give an excuse why I'm running off in the middle of our time together. And I feel so bad. I feel really bad because I barely get to see my friends anymore and when I do I always have to leave to deal with whatever Papillon decided to throw at us for that day."

The warmth of Chat Noir's gloved hand around her own made Ladybug smile, just a little bit. "I know, Ladybug. It's the same way for me. There's not enough time in one day to do everything. I mean, hell, with homework piling up and projects and studying for exams, as well as having a social life and saving the city, it's almost impossible to- to do anything!"

Ladybug's frown deepened. He was right.

The air was unusually still. The wind outside had died down but the sky cried on, rain spilling endlessly from the clouds and coating the city around them. She and Chat Noir were dry underneath the terrace awning, but Ladybug still felt cold. She shivered, her heart sinking at the reminder that she needed to be up early for school the next morning. It was like she never got a break.

A crack of lightning brightened the sky and caused the pair to flinch from surprise. In retrospect, they probably should have been inside at their respective homes, but… Spending time with each other was nice, too.

"At least you understand," Ladybug said. She fought against her exhaustion by blinking her eyes a couple of times.

Chat Noir offered a small, sad smile. "You know, there are days where I find myself wishing someone else had been chosen as Chat Noir." At Ladybug's squeak of surprise, he shook his head, continuing: "Hold on, let me finish. It's not because I think I'm bad at it, but because it's a lot of responsibility and sometimes I wonder if I'm even mature enough for it. I'm only in my first year of lycée. I have so many other things to worry about that a lot of the time I feel like I can't do it all."

Ladybug opened her mouth to speak (because he'd just shared another bit of info that he wasn't supposed to) but was interrupted as Chat Noir went on.

"But then I remember that if I hadn't been chosen to be Chat Noir, well…" he sighed as he squeezed her hand within both of his own, bringing it up to nuzzle his cheek against the smooth texture of her gloved knuckles. "Then I never would have met you, so… It balances out. Because I'd rather have someone like you in my life and be stressed than be relaxed and not be able to love a person like you." His cheeks reddened as he quickly added, "Y-you know, as your friend!"

Ladybug chuckled, a sly smirk forming its way onto her face. "Right."

But she understood. She completely did. She would rather have to face every day knowing that it would be full of endless pressure with Chat Noir by her side rather than go at it alone. Sure, if she wasn't Ladybug she would have more time to herself and wouldn't have to jump at the sound of every cry for help, but she also wouldn't have a wonderful friend, nor learned to trust herself and her abilities.

Becoming Ladybug was something Marinette felt incredibly grateful for. Not only did it teach her to feel confidence within herself, but also to trust others—especially Chat Noir. Being Ladybug shower her so many wonderful things about herself that she didn't know where she'd be without the Miraculous, or Tikki.

(And thinking about not having Tikki—the little god of creation who Marinette loved to her very core—made her heart ache.)

"Can I ask something weird?" Chat Noir inquired, to which Ladybug nodded. "Do you ever think about, like… What would happen if we didn't win a battle? Like if we lost."

Oh. Oh.

Well, she'd certainly never really thought about that before. At least, not to a huge extent. Sure, she often worried that there would come a day where Papillon would seize the Miraculous for himself, but she had enough confidence in herself and Chat Noir to know that they'd never let his crusty, evil hands near the precious items. That's what they were there for: to stop him from stealing what was rightfully theirs.

(As "rightfully theirs" as two pieces of magical jewelry containing animal-esque fairies could get, anyway.)

The idea did strike her, though. Thinking about the two of them losing to Papillon was disturbing in its own right, especially since nobody really knew what he would do with the Miraculous once he had them in his clutches. He could be bent on world domination or destroying Paris, or… Something equally as terrible.

(Hell, he could even use them to hurt Chat Noir and herself just for being a thorn in his side—but that thought made Ladybug's chest hurt, and she didn't want to dwell on the possibility any longer, because…

Well, because thinking about her partner getting hurt was devastating. The concept often kept her up at night. His reckless behavior really got out of hand sometimes.)

She sat up. Her eyes locked with his.

"Sometimes," Ladybug answered finally, though it felt unconvincing. "Most of the time I worry about you, though. Always jumping in to protect me without a care in the world of what happens to yourself. I worry too, okay?"

Her heart thudded in her chest. The thought of losing Chat Noir was too difficult to bear, so much so that if she kept thinking about it, she knew her eyes would begin to burn with the treat of tears, and crying was the last thing she wanted to do in front of him tonight. Not now. It wasn't a good time.

"Oh," was Chat's response. His voice was light and breathy; barely audible above the sound of the storm. "I-I didn't know you…"

Ladybug patted his hand. "It's okay."

"It's not, though," Chat said. His shoulders hunched together; he looked akin to a child that had just been scolded. "I don't mean to scare you. I just know you're more important to the mission than I am, so—"

"Shut up," Ladybug huffed. "Don't you dare finish that sentence, Chat Noir. I don't want to hear it. You're just as important to Paris as I am and I wouldn't even be doing this if you weren't by my side. You matter just as much I do!"

Chat Noir's face softened. He opened his mouth to speak, lips parted in preparation of a word (or two), but then he stopped and stood, arms wrapped around himself as he walked to the edge of the terrace awning and stared out at the city. "I'm glad you think so," he whispered. "And the people of Paris, too. It's just hard to convince myself sometimes."

"And why's that?" Ladybug found herself asking. She trailed after him, stopping just before the area that the rain was splashing upon. Her shoulder brushed her partner's. He responded to the touch by stepping closer.

Chat Noir gave her a look so full of despair that it almost made her want to wrap him up in a warm blanket and carry him all the way home to her bed so she could snuggle the frown off of his face.

(Almost.)

"It's too personal to say much about," he said. "But you are the only one who can purify akumas. You remember that one time you couldn't transform quick enough to get to where the villain was, and I was just running around the city like crazy with a purple butterfly in my hands trying to find a solution? I accidentally said the F-word in front of a kid! You should have seen the glare his mother gave me. It still gives me chills."

Ladybug swallowed the laugh that threatened to bubble up from her chest. "I remember. I'm still so sorry about that, kitty."

"It's okay," he told her, but the humor that had momentarily flashed in his gaze had already faded. "But it still worries me. Because what happens if you're hurt or stuck somewhere and I can't purify the akuma or fix the damage it caused? You know what happens when they get free. They multiply. And then the city would be screwed. So, yes, you are a concern when it comes to fighting akumas, because if you get injured and can't do your job, then we're fucked." He kicked a stay pebble across the floor. "That's why I'm always diving in to protect you. Because if I get hurt, at least we can still win due to you."

Feeling her heart clench at his words, Ladybug placed a hand on her partner's shoulder. "Okay, but sometimes I don't even need saving, Chat Noir. You're reckless at times. You dive in before you even give me a chance to defend myself."

"That's not true—"

"Yes, it is!" she cried, before instantly feeling remorse for raising her voice at him. "I'm sorry, it's just… It hurts me when you do that. I can't stand seeing you throw yourself into the fray of battle like you mean nothing! I care about you, and I—"

"But sometimes I am nothing!" he shouted back, his voice cracked with hollow despair. "Why does it matter so much to you when you've obviously beaten akumas on your own before? I want to be here to protect you so you can continue to do that just in case something happens and I can't be by your side anymore!"

Ladybug's brow furrowed in frustration. Her hands formed into fists at her side.

"Why does it matter to me?" she asked incredulously, a hint of venom in her tone. "It matters because you're important to me, Chat Noir! I don't get why you can't see that. And, yeah, sometimes I do have to fight akumas on my own, but I don't like it! It's not fun. It's hard, and it sucks, and every minute I'm out there by myself I'm hating it because all I think about the entire time is how much I want you by my side." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "I always want you by my side, even if the battle is easy as shit. You make it better. You matter to me. You help me and make being Ladybug more bearable. I like having you in my life! You're my best friend, damn it, and I don't get why you can't see how much I love you."

Chat Noir's mouth snapped shut. His pupils went from thin, black slits to thick orbs that sparkled with tears as a glimmer of hope shone within them. He reached out with a hand, his clawed fingers hesitating for a moment or two before he pulled back. His arm lowered to his side.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked shakily. His eyes stayed trained on the floor.

Ladybug swallowed thickly, feeling slightly out of breath from her outburst.

What did she mean…? Did she even have an answer to that herself?

She said nothing. The weight of Chat Noir's raw emotion resonated in her chest.

Chat Noir licked his lips, voice faint and cracked as he asked, "Did you mean anything by that?"

"Yes," she answered, finally. "I think I did. I'm just not sure I really know how I meant it, though…"

"Th-that's okay," her partner breathed, reaching forward to gently—ever so gently—tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "It just, um. Feels nice to hear you say it. Even if you haven't gotten it figured out yet."

Ladybug's breath hitched as Chat Noir's face drew closer. A puff of ice clouded from his mouth; she could feel the heat of it brush her lips. Instinctively, she licked them, only realizing the implication of her actions as Chat's eyes widened considerably. A small, strangled noise rose from his throat.

Feeling her heart thumping roughly behind her rib cage, Ladybug took a step back and breathed in, the brisk air around them chilling the inside of her nose. She pressed a hand to her chest in an attempt to still the violent beating. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Why do you feel so bad about yourself sometimes, Chat Noir?"

Her friend wilted ever so slightly at her question, turning so that his back rested against one of the stone-covered walls. "Oh, um… Let's just say I haven't grown up in a house that's very, uh, encouraging."

Oh. Aw… Poor kitty…

Whoever hurt him definitely deserved an ass-kicking. Even if it was shitty parents that were the cause of it, she wouldn't hesitate to smack a bitch.

"That's okay," Ladybug said, smiling in an attempt to lighten the mood. "If your home life gets too bad, you can just come live with me."

Chat, whose shoulders shook with a laugh, turned his glossy eyes to her own and smiled. "Don't joke about that. I really would."

"Maybe I'm not joking," Ladybug said. Though she knew she was just playing around, part of her wanted to be telling him the truth. If Chat Noir had a crappy home life, then she wouldn't shy away from giving him the spare room at the bakery. Convincing her parents why a masked-superhero should live with them wouldn't be easy, but she could sure as hell try.

(As if that would ever happen, though.)

"You are," Chat Noir replied. "That's okay, though. My dad is a dickhead but he tries to be good to me sometimes."

"...Tries?"

A solemn laugh rose from her partner. "Tries and fails."

Ladybug's lips turned downward at his response. "Oh, Chat—"

"I think, if we did actually lose a fight once… And I didn't make it out," he continued, making Ladybug's heart race uncomfortably, "I don't think he'd notice I was gone. For a while, at least. And if I died, he wouldn't know what happened, so he'd probably just get mad that I ran off again." He laughed bitterly. "How messed up is that?"

She wanted to say "extremely."

Ladybug wanted to tell Chat that it was completely, horribly, utterly terrible that his father would react that way, but… She couldn't, really. Because if she—hypothetically—became fatally injured as Ladybug (doubt as she may that it would happen) her parents wouldn't know. Her friends wouldn't know. Not Alya, not Nino, not—

(Not Adrien, either.)

And there wouldn't be any way for her parents to know. The only difference would be that they wouldn't get upset at her disappearance, but instead be incredibly distraught. Hell, they'd probably go out looking for her as soon as she didn't come home for dinner and didn't answer her phone, and wouldn't rest… Until they probably found her, somewhere, lying dead on the—

She squeezed her eyes shut.

"You know what's really messed up?" she asked. Her voice felt too soft; too sad. "The fact that if we died out here, nobody would know who we are or where we went. Not even our family."

Chat Noir's responding swallow was audible. "I think it'd be even scarier the other way around. If I got hurt when I wasn't transformed and died or something, you…"

Ladybug felt her heart stop.

"...You'd never know," he finished.

Licking her lips (which had suddenly become very dry), Ladybug turned to her partner and shook her head, grabbing hold of his arm with a grip that was a little too tight judging by the way his eyes bulged. "Don't say that," she pleaded. "Don't say stuff like that. Don't- don't make me think about that."

Chat Noir's arm snaked around her shoulders. "I'm sorry. Let's not think about it, then."

"I can't stand the thought of-" Ladybug sighed, burying her face in his neck. "Okay. It's okay. We're not talking about that now. I'm—I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

Chat Noir nodded. "Okay."

The rain had stopped. Tiny droplets of water trickled from the awning above; the city was damp and moody. A chill blew through the air as a breeze floated in. Ladybug shivered at the cold, wet feeling it left on her suit.

Turning so that her head was nestled in the crook of her partner's shoulder, she sighed. Her shoulders drooped as her mind raced. The stuff Chat had been saying… She didn't like that. Those thoughts—those terrible, terrible things that floated in her head—were evil, and she wanted them gone.

Losing her partner would be the most devastating thing she could imagine, next to losing her parents. And if Chat Noir somehow died in his civilian form…

Her eyes watered at the thought. Ladybug pressed her face against Chat Noir's neck, humming contentedly as she realized he smelled like good things; like cinnamon and a late-night breeze; like... Home.

(And that was an odd thought to strike her as she felt his hands connect with her back.)

"Can you promise me something?" whispered Chat, his breath so close that Ladybug could practically taste it.

"Anything," she said.

Her stomach flipped as his arms tightened around her form.

"If something happens to either of us," he began, nuzzling his head against her cheek, "and we don't see each other for a while, promise that we'll do whatever it takes to find each other? Even though we're not allowed to. I—I can't stand the thought of losing you."

There was no hesitation on her part. "I promise."

"I'll always find you, no matter what," he said.

Ladybug swallowed. "And I'll do the same for you."

She could feel a rumbling in her chest. Or, wait—not her chest, but-

"You're purring again," she chuckled. Her hand pressed against his diaphragm. The vibrations were faint, but undoubtedly there.

His forehead pressed against hers. "I love you," he spoke, before quickly realizing his slip-up and taking a step back, green eyes the size of the moon above them. "Oh, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to, I know you don't-"

"It's okay," she said. Promised. "It's okay. It's always been okay, I just-"

"You don't have to say anything, it's okay if you don't-"

"No, that's not-"

They both sighed. Looked at each other. And then laughed.

"I'm so awkward, I'm sorry," Ladybug chuckled. "I barely know what I was trying to say. And earlier, when I said that, um… Thing..."

"You're okay. And I apologize." Chat scratched at the back of his neck in a self-conscious manner. "I didn't mean to make it weird. It kind of slipped out just now… I'm sorry."

Ladybug shook her head. She smiled when she placed a hand on his cheek and he leaned into her touch. "Don't apologize, kitty. I think it's sweet."

The way his pupils dilated made her want to wrap her arms around his neck and take him home.

"Sweet, huh?" he asked, reaching down to cup her other hand within his own. "Well, I think you're sweet." He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, hs lips lingering a moment or two longer than usual, and admittedly, Ladybug felt a small flicker of disappointment when he pulled away.

"Smooth-talker," she quipped. The corners of her mouth turned upward into a smirk. "You're such a dork."

"Your dork," he correct, sticking his tongue out playfully.

Maybe he wasn't wrong, there. "Yeah," she said. "That's right."

Chat Noir's breath hitched, his lips partly slighted. Ladybug wanted to lean up to kiss them, but-

But that's not what friends did.

(Well, some friends did, but they weren't those types of friends. Not yet, at least.)

No, brain, not ever, she scolded herself. She liked Adrien, didn't she? Though, she supposed it was okay to have a crush on two people at once… Right?

An alarm went off on Ladybug's compact. Startled, she jumped back from her partner's grasp and grabbed the yo-yo off of her waist, frowning when she realized the alarm was their usual "it's getting late, go to bed" call.

Ladybug sighed. "Guess that's our cue."

"Unfortunately," Chat said with a nod.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked. A glimmer of hope flickered in her chest.

Chat Noir grabbed his baton. He leaned over the edge of the terrace and scrunched up his face as a droplet of water from the awning splashed onto his nose. "But it's not a patrol night."

"I know," Ladybug said. She clasped her hands together behind her back and rocked on the balls of her feet. "Does that matter?"

Her partner's grin was all she needed. "No, I guess it doesn't. But, hey," he laughed, turning towards her, "no more talk about death tomorrow. I think I got enough sadness tonight from talking about the prospect of the love of my life dying to last me a lifetime."

Laughing behind her hand, Ladybug nodded. "Me too."

The way Chat Noir's ears perked up straight as his eyes widened had her feeling a tad confused. That is, until she realized exactly how she'd worded her response. "Oh, I-"

Chat Noir just shook his head, a small, giddy laugh slipping from his mouth. The blush on his cheeks was obvious beneath the sleek black of his mask. "I think I caught you, 'Bug."

Nibbling on her lower lip, Ladybug crossed her arms defiantly. Her face burned with a deep flush. "You didn't catch anything."

"No, it's okay, Buginette," Chat Noir told her. He extended his baton, eyes looking her up and down with a sly grin on his face. "I know what you meant. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Ladybug jutted out her lower lip in a faux pout. It was hard to suppress the smile that began to spread across her face. "You better."

With a delighted waver in his voice, Chat Noir said, "Goodnight."

He hesitated—turned to her and opened his mouth. Instead of speaking, though, he leaned forward—just slightly—and pressed a lingering, loving kiss on her cheek. Then he simply smiled, shook his head, and leaped.

The weather was cold outside, but Ladybug felt warm from head to toe.

#ladynoir #miraculous ladybug #chat noir #adrinette #adrienette #angst #ml fic #mlfanfiction #ml fanfiction #my writing #my writings

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toastydehmer · 5 years

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Colors Ask

Original list can be found here! Though some of these were doctored up a wee bit just so I could make better sense of them.

[RED] What are you most passionate about? How did this passion develope?

My passion has been creating these ideas and worlds and AUs or even just overarching plots to stories I'll probably never write. It started with my voracious habit to read - something I probably do WAY too much of if I'm too be honest. As I read I would theorize and extrapolate from what the story told so far and I guess it became a habit. Now I look at fandoms I like or pairings and suddenly and writing down notes, sketching designs, and looking up references for this whole new Alternate Universe just because I can. I love it!

[ORANGE] How many pieces of fruit do you aim to eat per day? What do you actually manage?

Uh, I don't eat often bub. A meal at McDonalds is enough to fill me up for an entire 24-hour period. I eat fruit when my body craves it which tends to be about once a week to every other week.

[YELLOW] What's your happy place? Real or fictional?

Okay. That 'happy place' idea is utter bullshit. When I get an anxiety/panick attack, I don't go to a tranquil place in my mind and start to feel better. That doesn't help because guess what, an idle mind is the perfect playground for personal demons. Happy Places probably exist but they don't do jackshit once you're already in one and besides, I couldn't never keep my thoughts straight enough in the middle of an attack to make a decision.

[GREEN] Do you prefer indoors or outdoors? What's your favorite flower to smell?

Indoors during winter and late autumn, outdoors the rest of the year. I like to just lay in the grass when the sun is high on a clear, breezy day and bask in the light like a cat. As for flower... hell if I know. A flower is a flower to my brain.

[BLUE] What is your favorite mode of long distance transportation? Have you ever been on a plane? If so, what was it like?

Uh, car. I've only been a plane plane twice (nearly passed right out walling to my seat the first time I was so terrified) but both were utterly boring. The book I brought with I finished before half the trip was over. Though it was fun seeing the clouds, I think they would get boring after so many trips. And besides, in a car trip on my own, I can play whatever music I want however loud I please.

[INDIGO] What's your top three names? Would you ever consider having children?

I actually have a list in Google Drive because my boyfriend and I had started talking about the possibility of having kids sometime in the next five to ten years. Looking at it, it's hard to choose but it follows a pattern of a Latin, Greek, or Irish word that had meaning.

Daughter: it would be Eirini (Greek: Peace), Elpida (Greek: Hope), and Nadur (Irish: Nature).

Son: Anam (Latin: Soul), Rioga (Irish: Royal), and Nostrum (Latin: Ours).

[VIOLET] What's your favorite cake flavour? Are you any good at baking?

Chocolate hands down. If it's chocolate you got me. And yes, I am very good at baking. My two favorite recipes are Red Velvet cake with Cream Cheese frosting and Flour-less Chocolate Torte. Both arevcompletely from scratch mind you, frosting and all. So god damned delicious.

[PURPLE] Do you support the Royal Family? Who is your favorite historical figure and why?

Royal Family? Well, I don't know anything about them instead of Royal Family how about President? And no, I do not support a large portion of Trump's decisions mainly to do with his methods and the nuances of those decisions.

Also, I don't really have a favorite hostiorical figure? Or even one I like? To me they're like one big tapestry that details the human race, one which is still continually being added to. They are a part of the whole. Which to put in layman's terms means I like history overall more than any singular person involved.

[PINK] What is your favorite animal? Zoos or farms?

CATS!!! I love house cats, big cats, wild cats, domesticated cats, exotic cats, local cats, cats, cats, cats! But not the musical, lol. But I'd rather see cats in their natural habits. Hells, I'd rather see all animals in their natural habits when considering non-domesticaed animal breeds. I don't like either of them if the purpose is to just visit the animals in them.

[TURQUOISE] Do you like being in the sea? What coastal town is your favorite to visit?

Hm. I was born and raised in the land of ten thousand lakes and have only ever been to the coast twice, the Gulf of Mexico and the Southern Californian coast in specific. I was able to wade into the ocean when I went to the Gulf but I don't think that would be a good choice to base my decision on as I was stung my floating remnants of jellyfish and then didn't risk going in again after that. To make things easier, let's go with large bodies of water in general, to which the answer is a wholesome yes. I love to swim and float in the water.

[MINT] Do you like astrology? Do you consider Pluto a 'real planet'?

Ah. This question. I do occasionally practice witchcraft when I have a good purpose to do so - such as making a charm for a friend, cleansing my home, and other such things. Astrology is part of what I do so yes, I like it in the sense that it helps me work or stronger correspondences. As for Pluto....bot really. Pluto is a dwarf planet by scientific standards. In my practice, there isn't much to tie it to outside of a person's sign related to it. It's hard to work with it because of this as all the other planets (substituting earth with the moon here) have ample correspondences.

[CRIMSON] Have you ever broken and bone before? Do you enjoy going to the dentist?

Hell no to both questions. Next!

[AMBER] Do you have a license to drive? If now, how do you get around?

Yes I do! I have a 2007 Volkswagen Jetta Wolfsberg edition. My first car, used it be my dad. I've had it for just about two years now and I keep her in tip top shape as much as a possibly can! Just wish I had a proper garage so I could do my own small repairs and work on her.

[LIME] Do you like monkeys? Do you believe the theory of evolution?

No, I don't really care for monkeys. And from a scientific standpoint, yes I do.

[TANGERINE] How tall are you? Do you ever wish you were taller or shorter?

I am literally just a hair below 5'11" and for a woman my age where I live, that is really tall. I match height with most men I've met. But I do sometimes wish I was shorter just because my height and stature paired with my resting bitch face tend to intimidate or slightly scare people when they first meet me. I often have to explain that, "No, I'm not angry, this is just my normal look when I'm not really feeling any specific emotion. You're fine, I swear. I just look like this." And I'm a gentle giant. Think BFG if you know it. I'm the one who will jump in to protect and be a meat shield for someone else but am unable to raise a hand for my own safety. People being scared of me just makes me feel really damn sad and depressed.

[AZURE] Which gender and sexuality do you most identify with?

Uuuuuuh. Hm. Well- that is kinda a hard question? For gender I think the closest I can relate to is genderfliud. I don't have any body dysphoria but I do know there are times I feel way more masculine than feminine. The reverse is just as equally true. And then there are times where I don't feel like I have a specific gender. Sexuality can make this kind of hard to pin down for me. Put it this way. I am panromantic but I find males sexually arousing much more than I do females. And for those curious (unlikely anyone) I'll go by any pronoun. He, she, it, they/them, I really don't give a fuck.

[BEIGE] What is your favorite pop/soda? Do you enjoy alcohol?

P E P S I. Coke is an abomination, something which my boyfriend heavily disagrees with the heathen... I don't....really like to drink often. Alcoholism kind of runs in the family and due to that, I'm more likely to form a codependency on it as well. My family on my Dad's side is heavily German if that helps make more sense. But I do enjoy sweet wines the very few times I allow myself a glass, no more than two.

[CORAL] What is your favorite Disney movie? Who does it better, Disney or Pixar?

You- you can't just ASK me this!! I grew up on Disney! To pick a favorite would be blasphemous of me!!! Also, if that didn't make it clear, Pixar can suck my sack. Disney for the win.

[SAPPHIRE] Do you wear any jewelry? What do you think looks best on other people?

I wear a silver ring on me right middle finger everyday 24/7 and only take it off during my job or when I'm going into any amount of water. I used to wear earrings as well but I lost my silver pair and I can only wear gold or silver. Yes, I have tried to nail polish trick and hypoallergenic. No, I couldn't get either to work with me. My ears would still puss around the non-pure metal earrings. Now I only wear any of my other earrings when I'm doing something special and never for more than a few hours or so.

[GOLD] What do you consider your biggest achievement? When was the last time you won (at) something?

Ah, achievements, things that

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anyway-i-love-vanderwood · 7 years

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Anon requested what romancing Yoosung in the MMO AU would be like, and so, I deliver a rough sketch of a design and the rough sketch of a route!

You are a profoundly busy college student juggling both school and work, so you haven’t had time to try Mystic Message Online - an incredibly popular virtual reality mmorpg - though you’ve heard your friend from school gushing about it basically non-stop since you met him. Said friend’s birthday is coming up though, and he’s ALWAYS wanted you to play MMO, so you decide that… hey, why not pick up a copy, level up a character a little, and then surprise him on his special day by telling him your screen-name so you can play together? It’d make him happy, and said friend is pretty cute, anyway. You can take a little bit of a break from work to have fun with him.

You go to the store and, by sheer chance, are awarded a special, milestone promotional code that will give you a number of rare items, along with a fully leveled character to try the game out with. Sounds great, right? You get home, launch the game, put on the special VR headset that makes everything feel so real, and put in you code.

after a flash of light, something weird happens.

You find that you’re logged into a max-level character with an inventory full of strange items, including a peculiar letter that you open up and read. All it says, in a loopy, elegant script, is you are the key that will unlock this world, and it promptly vanishes after you’ve read it, dissolving into particles that are carried off by the wind.

You don’t have much time to think about that, though, because you are IMMEDIATELY besieged by messages in the guild chat, one of them being from Shooting Star.

[the rest is under the read more!]

At first, Yoosung is so hopeful. He really thought, from the bottom of his heart, that RIka couldn’t be dead. There’s no way! So this has to be her, right? Returning after two years, coming back after having accomplished some mysterious work? She was always getting obsessive over things, always dropping her entire being into her job. She was always fascinated with innovation, so she just - she just -- she just did something drastic as a way to take a sabbatical, right?

Because she knew it was the only way she wouldn’t be disturbed...?

But it becomes immediately clear that, while you may be accessing Rika’s character, you definitely aren’t Rika... and Yoosung - or, as you know him, Shooting Star - becomes your staunchest proponent. He can tell you’re a sweet, gentle, generous person right off the bat! There’s no way you could be some kind of conniving hacker. While the others bicker about what to do, he offers to help you get acclimated to the game, and - as he’s done for so many newbies in the past - Yoosung gives you a tutorial.

He’s helpful, encouraging, sweet, informative, and during a stressful situation, he makes you feel miles better....

....but he also almost immediately starts comparing you to Rika.

“It’s kind of funny, that’s something Rika would say!”

“Keep this up, and you’ll be as good as Rika someday!”

“Good choice - Rika always liked using items like that!”

It makes you feel weird, but you don’t say anything, figuring that this is just a temporary state of affairs....

Until you get a panicked message from guild chat asking you to try logging out. You fail, predictably enough.

No one can log out.

Yoosung, perhaps to the reader’s surprise, immediately freaks out. You’d think this would be his dream come true, wouldn’t you? He’s doing badly in school, he spends more time in MMO than real life - but he immediately begs Seven to find some way to contact the outside world. He needs to talk to his mom! His dad!

His crush!

(his crush? you repeat to yourself, shocked. well, of course it made sense. of course. of course a cute, nice, wonderful, supportive boy like this has - has feelings for someone...)

Yoosung is miserable, but he also knows he can’t show a sad face to you, so he tries to smile and do his best in the world he wishes he could share with someone else.

Rather than trying to investigate how to get out of the world, Yoosung puts on his Paladin gear and goes out trying to help people. There are plenty of lost, scared, players - some are even kids who have been separated from their families! - that he needs to go help. That was what the RFA was supposed to do initially, right? Help people?

He’s a knight that protect’s other’s smiles! The other, smarter people can figure out how to get everybody out. He’s going to make sure they’re ok now. Thinking that this is a valiant mission, you accompany him, all the while trying not to fall too hard for him. He - he likes someone else, and... he keeps... treating you like you’re his cousin.

Like you’re Rika.

You have a long road ahead of you...

Events and story arcs -

Stray Children - Almost immediately, Yoosung gets embroiled in the affairs of the Cherry Hill, which despite the rather unassuming name, is one of the major cities in Mystic Message Online - and the one housing the RFA’s guild hall. Chaos immediately overtakes the city as players panic due to being trapped in the game, which particularly affects the youngest players, who are easy to abuse and take advantage of. You and Yoosung’s first order of business is to protect these players, and through your combined efforts, end up instating the “mentorship program”. You organize a charity society that finds higher level, more experienced players that are willing to “adopt” younger players and be their ‘big siblings’, basically. This helps form partnerships and bonds in a world where so many people have been cut from their friends.

You end up interacting with many of the children, and you and Yoosung have numerous interactions where you act a lot like parents. He jokes that you’d be awesome to raise kids with.

I’m Not Rika! - Fed up with how much Yoosung compares you to Rika - and how weird you feel, having another person’s appearance - you ask the rest of the RFA for advice. Zen JUMPS ON THE CHANCE TO HELP GIVE YOU A MAKEOVER, and the two of you go out to change what you look at!

Yoosung gets mad, saying that they SHOULDN’T BE CHANGING RIKA’S CHARACTER, but Zen fires back that YOU ARE STUCK LIKE THIS, FOCUS WHAT’S IN THE PRESENT, YOOSUNG.

...He apologizes to you, and says that you look really nice.

Cherry Blossom Viewing - Cherry Hill is so known because, in the middle of the city, there’s a hill with an enormous cherry blossom tree that’s rumored to be over a thousand years old. Since Day Zero happened near the beginning of March, about a month after, the Cherry Blossoms are ready to view... And Shooting Star decides to take you!

The players of Cherry Hill have banded together to create a festival, and you and Yoosung helped with the party organizing. The two of you have put a lot of work into helping the town come together, and under the cherry blossom trees, you see it come to fruition...

Seeing the falling petals makes Yoosung worry is this is only temporary peace, but you encourage him, saying that you’re with him 100%. Even if things do get hard - and the murmurings of hardship are stirring, as Mint Eye Cultists are recruiting among the players and promising them power if they swear a pact to the organization - you can handle it together!

Yoosung thanks you. You’re the best comrade-in-arms he could ever ask for! He feels as close to you as he did to Rika!

DAMMIT YOOSUNG YOU THOUGHT CHANGING YOUR APPEARANCE WOULD HELP THINGS

Dungeon Bungle - Seven is becoming more and more certain that the secret to what’s going on is contained within the game, and that it has something to do with you. You, Seven, and Yoosung go exploring some of the new areas added by the update, hoping that something will... happen because you’re there. While you’re exploring, Seven sees something that he wants to look over, and he asks for some quiet while he does it.

You and Yoosung leave, and start talking about... various stuff as you wait. Somehow, you end up getting on the topic of Yoosung’s crush.

This boy is clearly head over heels with how he goes on and on and ON about them, and you’re, uh, despondent but encouraging. T-This is only temporary, after all! You’re sure that.... you’re sure that there’ll be someone else out there for you...

You go take a walk, wanting to pull yourself together, when you’re captured by an ambush of Mint Eye cultists. Your distress call is heard by Seven and Yoosung, who immediately rush in to help you.

With their aid, you manage to escape, and Yoosung hugs you, telling you that he’s not letting you out of his sight! He already lost RIka, he can’t lose you too!

...While this should make you happy, somehow, it doesn’t...

I AM NOT RIKA - After your encounter with the Mint Eye cultists, Yoosung is starting to stifle you. He wants to support you, he wants to protect you, and you know if you’re ever going to get over him, you need some alone time! When you say that, hey, maybe you need some space, he says that when he gave Rika some space, he missed her killing herself! He’s not going to let you suffer alone!

You emphasize that YOU. ARE. NOT. RIKA, stop comparing me to her! Much like in the canon game, he gets advice from everyone else (who basically all tell him, yeah, Yoosung, ur being dumb), and he apologizes again, saying that he will stop. Things get a lot better between you two - which, namely, means more domestic - and you fall harder for him instead of getting over him.

Shit! He likes someone else!

Festival of Starlight - Autumn approaches, and with the coming solstice, the players start preparing for an ingame holiday called the Festival of Starlight. It’s a week-long celebration of the harvest and a feast before the coming winter, and everybody hangs star-shaped lights up in the cherry trees around town. You and Yoosung go together, and during the night, when you’re looking up at the sky, Yoosung laughs and says that it’s getting harder and harder to keep track of time now. It’s just passing so fast! he wonders... he wonders if he’ll spend his next birthday in the game, too.

You’re like - next birthday???? Wait, has he already had one ingame? And he’s like, oh yeah, it was a few days after Day Zero! He was so caught up with other things that he forgot about it.

wait.

a birthday

a few days after Day Zero? when is his birthday.

March 12, he says, the same birthday as your cute friend who got you to play Mystic Message Online in the first place.

where does he live, you ask. where does he go to school?

He’s confused about your sudden interest in his real life, since the neither of you have really talked about it (since sort of painful to talk about a life you were ripped from...) But he answers your questions, and it’s your town. And your university.

Shooting Star, you ask. What is your real name.

“??? I haven’t mentioned? It’s Yoosung Kim!”

you realize you haven’t mentioned your real name either, and under the night sky, surrounded by a million lights, you tell him, and Yoosung Kim realizes that, this entire time, he has been standing right beside his crush.

#mysme #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme reactions #mystic messenger reactions #mysme imagines #mystic messenger imagines #long post #mystic messenger spoilers #mysme spoilers #mmo au #my art #yoosung kim

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thenerdinthecorner994 · 7 years

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Given, part 1/3

-This is a “short” story I’ve been working on for over a year. It’s more of a novella really, and gives good insight into my fantasy world, which I've been working on for two and a half years. This is very high fantasy and has a lot of world building in it, there isn’t any action in part one, but the stuff you learn here will explain everything in parts two and three, which should come out in the next few weeks. With that, enjoy!- Wind blew softly through the forest clearing, rustling the leaves of the squat trees that guarded it. Carrying with it the scent of pine, ashes, and blood. A massive grey wolf sniffed at the carcass of an elk. Baring his teeth and snarling as it pulled away. “What could have brought something that big down? I don’t see any wounds...” A man with green hair mused to himself. The elk soon drew attention, as more men gathered around it. Many with the same dark green hair as the man inspecting it, and others with golden blond hair, muttered quietly to themselves. The elk had no wounds, no evidence of bite or claw marks, or even holes from being gouged by another horned beast. The wolf continued to pace around it, sniffing. This was a disturbing sight. An elk, dead right in the middle of the village. Something was clearly wrong here. A small boy squeezed his way through the crowd. His Pumpkin orange hair was not shared by any of the other men, and the shadows the trees cast upon his skin seemed to shift and move with him as he approached the elk. The wolf snarled, as did some of the green and golden haired men. “We’ve already inspected the carcass boy. Nothing more to see here.” Voiced a stern, green haired man. The boy seemed to pay them no mind as he placed his hands upon the elks stomach and grunted. “What do you think you’re doing boy!” Snarled the man. The orange haired child said nothing, grunting , heaving, pushing, until finally he managed to roll the carcass onto its other side. A single, tiny red feather was flattened against the beasts skin. The boy pulled on the feathers, a long slim dart coming out bloodstained from the creature. “Night shallow makes excellent tranquilizers.” the boy explained. He slipped the dart into a pouch at his waist, then pressed an ear against the creature's stomach, right up to where its heart would beat. The wolf's ears perked up. Blood still flowed through this creatures veins. The dart had just put it into a deep sleep. “You Fallborn are cowards. A true man would have brought the creature down with an arrow, or hunted it as one with the beast.” The man with green hair spat. “Are we not already beasts ourselves? Using the gifts the Watcher gives us is just as honorable as taking it down with arrows or claws.” The boy retorted. He unsheathed a small, curved dagger from a sash at his waist. “Thank you, great Watcher, for this blessing, and for all those to come. “ With that, he drew the blade across the beast's neck, warm blood gushed out from the wound and painted the grass it lie on red. A few hours later, after the boy had skinned the beast and stepped away from the bloody work, he fell back to the well to wash off the blood that covered his arms and torso. As the sun began to fall from its zenith, The elder tribe members stepped in and began to cut thick venison steaks from the creature.

Born in the autumn, the time of death, age, and change, he was the weakest and most despised of all his tribe. The Autumnborn, or Fallen, his kind were called. Or even worse, weaklings, runts, or omegas. Willow watched his brethren cut the steaks and portion the meat as he poured water from the wooden pail over his arms, scrubbing with his hands to get the blood off. For killing the beast he would receive the largest steak, and kept its horns as trophies. The small rack was tied against the sash at his waist. The buck had only been about 2 years old judging from the size of its antlers. As he was inspecting them, a sudden chill ran up his spine. He immediately looked ahead of him to the left. A pair of cold, white eyes stared back at him. Their owner a tall, muscular man with a close cut white beard and hair down to his shoulders. Harsh red scars covered him all over, his arms, his face, his neck, his bare torso. They stood out like blood on snow, as this man was unnaturally pale. His eyes were pure white, no pupil, no iris. He watched from afar, eventually turning his gaze to the Spring and Summerborn preparing the meat.

His people, the Yl’vori were all so different. The appearance of the Yl’vori reflected the seasons of their birth; Those born in spring, the time of rebirth, growth, and beginnings, had dark green hair. There eyes and sometimes their skin favoring the dark green shades of leaves. Those born in Summer, the time of toil, fertility, and dedication, had eyes of gleaming yellow. They always had beautiful blond hair, lighter skin, and had an unnatural charisma about them. Out of all of his people, the Summerborn looked the most similar in appearance to those not native to the forests. The majority of all his people were Spring, or Summerborn, Willow knew. Even as he looked around he saw the dark greens and golden yellows of his brethren. But the harsher seasons, Winter and Fall, were far less common to have children born in. One born leaders… and the others ignored and rejected. Willow looked again at the pale eyed man. It was said Winterborn had white hair from the day they came into the world. Their skin was pale as snow too, so pale that he could see the man's dark blue veins beneath his skin even from this distance. So pale that it seemed to bother them when they were out in the sun too long. Winterborn were always the strongest of the Yl’vori, their appearance reflecting the attributes of death, rest, and finality. A Winterborns word was law, and no one questioned it. One Winterborn entered the world every generation, and one only. Born naturally into the role of a leader. The Cheiftan of their tribe, chosen from amongst the strongest of the winterborn would become a Sentinel. Undergoing a strange, secretive ritual that made their eyes lose all color, but in turn let them see all.

The Sentinels were the ones that decided the Attributes; the things that reflected what each Yl’vori was a part of, and what the season he was born in meant of him. When a new Sentinel was created, should they ever wish, they could change them. However, this had not been changed for thousands of years.

The Attributes had been a long founded tradition, mother had told him. Ingrained like the roots of old trees, they held strong and would not bend or break to a change of generation. The Attributes were what made them who they were, and what shaped their society. Without it they would be no more than savages. The Winter, Spring, and Summerborn all had places in the tribe. And while Autumnborn technically did, they hadn’t received those rights until just a decade ago. Autumnborn reflected the attributes of change, weakness and age. One of the main reasons they were dismissed so much was because of the attributes. The other reason being a long found tradition of using the Autumnborn as sacrifices to appease the gods. Appearance wise, Autumnborn had a much larger template to draw from. The Autumn born were the only Yl’vori that were able to change their appearance at will, a blessing gifted to them by the Watcher. Summer and Springborn saw this as deceitful and cowardly. He could make himself look like one of his brethren, but sooner or later they would find out, most likely through a Sentinel. A Sentinel was never fooled by a Autumnborns change in appearance. Their colorless eyes saw all. They saw the panthers hiding in the night, the leopard blending in with the trees, the pythons that could be mistaken as loose vines, or the adder that looked like a pile of leaves. No trick of light or camouflage could deceive the Winterborn’s chosen. Willows kind were often called ‘The Fallen’ and were never given names. If one wanted to refer to a Fallen, or grab their attention, the only names ever used were ‘Fall’. Of course, Autumnborn gave themselves names, like Willow had himself. After scrubbing off all the blood, he placed the bucket back into the well, and headed back to the Given’s hollow. The trunk of a massive tree had been carved out, with a spiraling staircase going up and up and up for hundreds of feet, leading into the carved out hollow where he lived. The space inside the hollow was wide and dusty. the wood dry and smooth from years of other Given using it. A wicker rocking chair was in one corner, a small shelf held many books, their titles read in the common tongue. Their leather bound edges were well worn, and many of the pages were torn or even missing. These were the books that had been used for generations. The shelf was on the wall next to an open window, beneath which a pair of sleeping mats were set out. Willow was so high above the clearing, he could see the entire tribe bellow him. “How did that go?” A soft voice called out of nowhere. Willow flinched momentarily, heart racing as he feared he might fall. He turned, looking for the source of the voice and seeing the rocking chair move. Slowly the form of a woman appeared sitting on the chair. Her skin reverting from an oaken like appearance that matched that of the chair. Her hair was the same pumpkin orange color as his. Willow untied the antlers from the sash at his waist, gently setting them on the ground beside his bed mat. “I see. Did the Night Tallow work?” “It did. They seemed surprised at the use of tranquilizers… although I suppose we did stop the practice of using them about a decade ago.” Willow mused. “Alchemy and History, we’ll make a Given of you yet.” His mother laughed. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Willow replied, eyes downcast. Every decade, The Yl’vori tribe would send an envoy to their sister tribe the Yl’vora. Similar to the Yl’vori in practice, but opposite in nature. The Yl’vora were a female only tribe, while the Yl’vori were obviously all male. The two tribes had their differences, and it said that they broke from the one tribe they all used to be a part of, The Yl’voran. When that was, no one could remember. Clearly the practice of separating sexes would leave both tribes to die off in mere decades. So, every ten years the tribes would groom one of their own for the duties of a Given. An offering to the other tribe so that the bloodline of the Yl’voran could continue. The Given were the only people of opposite sex in the respective tribes. Given were exchanged when the children were each of age ten. Prepared for ten years since birth by their own tribe, and then exchanged to the others. The previous Given, who had already been in the tribe for 10 years, would then train the new member of the tribe for 5 years. Some trained longer however. The last Given exchange hadn’t happened do to a feud of the tribes, but soon the exchange would happen. Willow had thought the extra 4 years he had been given were a blessing, but he was quickly realizing the more time he spent with his mother, the more he grew attached, the harder it would be to leave her.

His mother was the only person that he could empathize with. She did not have a name either, but she still held much higher rank than an Autumnborn. “Who are the two current leaders of the Yl’voran?” His mother questioned suddenly. She liked to do that, give him random questions to answer on the spot. “Tydrin the Winterclaw and Dalaina the Morning Lilly.” Willow replied, “Easy.” Mother raised an eyebrow. “Very well. Who are Tydrin’s daughters and Dalaina’s sons?” That gave Willow pause. Those were much more than two simple names. He honestly didn’t know. Witnessing his pause, his mother smiled in triumph. “Trick question. Given only produce offspring of the opposite sex. Tydrin only has sons, and Dalaina only has daughters.” “Funny. He doesn't treat me like one.”

It was difficult for Willow to recognize Tydrin as his father, but no matter how much he despised it, he was still his parent. Willow shook the matter from his head. “Why do Given only produce offspring opposite of their own sex?” “No one knows exactly. Perhaps it's the Watchers whims, maybe an aftereffect of the great plague perhaps?” Willow had heard stories of the great plague. A sweeping disease that spread across the entire continent. Leaving women infertile for years and nearly wiping out humanity itself. Infertility was seen as a curse to the Yl’voran. “No plague could be greater than the Autumnborn are to the Yl’vori.” Willow said, “Everything is going to change. I’m going to leave behind everything I know, my entire life. The only thing that’s going to stay the same is that I’m still Autumnborn.” That, was what made Willow so strange. He was Given, a title often respected and honored. But yet he was also Fallen. A thing it seemed almost everyone had to despise. A Spring or Summerborn Given would be honored among the Yl’vori, but Willow… he was just ignored. His mother eyed him sternly. “Being Autumnborn is not the worst thing in the world, Willow. You have received a far better treatment than others like you. Years ago Fallen were thrown into the Deepwoods straight out of the womb. Until one day when the gods had enough of these murders. Do you remember the story?” Another one of Mother's questions. Willow sighed, taking a deep breath and reciting the story.

“Toris Stormbane was the only Sentinel the gods have ever punished. As he turned his back on his screaming child that he just left in the woods, The Watcher sent a murder of crows as black as Toris’s heart to tear out his eyes. From that day forward, The Yl’vori waited until the child reached his tenth nameday.“ Willow recalled the story with perfect clarity. It was one that he liked. It showed that the gods were not as one sided as his tribe was. Even those of the highest rank could be punished. As much as he hated it, Willow could understand why his brothers ignored him. Ten years ago, all his kind were good for was appeasing the angry spirits of the cursed Deepwoods. Suddenly, a roar, loud as a crack of thunder echoed through the forest clearing. Sending shivers up Willows spine. It continued on for what felt like minutes, slowly echoing away into nothingness. “Be glad your not a Winterborn. Their trials may seem easier than yours at times, but you never have to face those creatures. “ Mother said, gesturing out the window towards the source of the sound. The sound seemed to have come from the Deepwoods, a section of the forest that few dare entered. It was said the ghosts of the dead, starved, craven, and deserters haunted those woods. The angry spirits of animals were trapped there. Seething for eternity in their hatred against the one that hadn’t perform the ritual to release their spirit into the afterlife. It was said the angry souls of all the Autumnborn left their generations ago found their vengeance on any fool that wandered to far into the woods. If you slept close to the Deepwoods, you could hear whispers, and rasping and muttered cursing and screaming and it would turn your dreams to nightmares for a month. Those woods were cursed, but they were what guarded his people from outsiders. He was to be Given within the week. And they were supposed to travel through those woods. Mother said the Yl’vora didn’t treat their Autumnborn with hatred. That might be nice, if he survived the trip there. He would leave behind everything he knew. He would go from hated and rejected to honored and respected. Willow didn’t know how to feel about that. -Thank you so, so, so much for reading all of this. If you have any questions about writing or just want to talk, please feel free to message me! I should have part two out within a week or two, please tell me your thoughts if you have any, I love to hear back from you!- -The nerd in the corner

#fantasy #fantasy writer #fantasy author #fantasy novel #short story #fantasy short stories #worldbuilding #writing #fantasy writing #fantasy story #novella #fantasy novella

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hellspathfinder · 7 years

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Mid-day Cowboy

28 Lamashan (October), 4716, Kantaria

With the capture of Oppian and the destruction of the Kantaria Rebellion achieved, Zara Orcelani rides immediately to the capital to begin work on Freya’s Hell Knight Plate.

Archbaron Fex has thanks the team, and promises the capital that his agents will deliver the War Criminal Oppian Nevilindor to Egorian in 5 days. Given that the journey will take just over one day via their embattled carriage, the team elects to leave immediately, hoping to be on time for something for once.

Securing the prisoner in the middle seat, they set off on the South Road to the capital city of Cheliax. Freya rides her war horse, Sleipnir in front of the carriage team. Bob and El Guapo drive and Jason, J’Mal, Draymus, and Corrine ride inside. Reese flies overhead in a slow glide, keeping watch on the road ahead.

Most of the trip to the capital is quiet. A smooth ride down a well kept road, surrounded by the beauty of the Cheliax Autumn all around them. Despite this peaceful setting, the team does not relax. And so Reese spots a roadblock ahead in a long stretch between towns.

Draymus and Jason instantly pile out of the carriage and take stock of the situation. Eight Glorious Reclamation soldiers are on foot blocking the road. They are flanked by four mounted Sword Knights and backed by two Iomedaean Clerics. Draymus and Jason stride forward.

Fireballs begin raining down on the rebel roadblock. Some of the soldiers are killed instantly, some roll and scream in the fire for a few moments. The Sword Knights charge, and Freya charges to meet them.

Reese circles overhead firing arrow after arrow into the clerics, eventually dropping both of them. The Knights are forced to ride through Jason’s wall of fire before they are out-lanced by Hell Knight Freya Kusanagi.

After healing Draymus, who may or may not have positioned himself too close to the jousters, they continue South.

Taking a short rest that night, they set out early and reach the capital mid-morning.

What began as a fishing village grew into a sprawling city on the Southeast Bank of Lake Sorrow. When the queen moved the capital here, she reorganized the city, bringing order to the chaos of streets and standardizing architecture. After months in the wilds, they have reached civilization at last.

At the West bridge near Fort Adivian, the carriage is met by soldiers who salute and recognize Captain Freya Kusanagi, Hell Knight and Agent of Thrune. The carriage is flanked by eight Egorian Knights on war horses who escort them across the bridge and down the main street to the central square.

They deliver the leader of the Kantaria Rebellion to the Dottari Guard, and set out to find the house that Archbaron Fex has arranged for them to board at. On the way, Jason stops at the Midnight Temple, perhaps the greatest temple to Asmodeus on the material plane, and resupplies the party on healing items.

Some confusion occurs when they struggle to find the house they’re staying at. Corrine helps them navigate the city, as she was stationed here before she was assigned to their team last month. After even a short excursion into the countryside, she is grateful to be home.

Their carriage, which seemed classy and fancy in Kantaria, looks a bit worn and cheap here in Thorntown, the wealthiest district of Egorian. The walled-neighborhood has its own guards who salute Freya and allow her through, but look skeptical at her entourage that follows.

They arrive at their destination, the Falco residence. Corrine is able to recall a rumor about this family, they were formerly called by another name but their only heir married Lady Falco and later died. So as the only inheritor of the family fortune, she renamed their manor and took it as her home.

Apparently an old friend of Darellus Fex, their Archbaron and Lord, Lady Tria Falco greets them in her beautiful dining room and already knows their names and some of their tales. She is charming and welcoming. She grants them four beautiful guest bedrooms, but Freya insists they must all sleep in one and keep watch at night.

J’Mal and El Guapo sneak out that night. They first search for booze and brothel, but eventually they remember an old grudge. The last time the party visited this fine city, they were attacked in their hotel by murderous thieves. They fought off the assassins but were never able to catch the corrupt city guard who marked them and sold them out.

J’Mal meets an old friend, Svetlana, who helped them dispose of the bodies that fateful night. She helps them follow the trail of the crooked guard but it goes cold when his neighbor was murdered and he disappeared. J’Mal suspects the killer may be one of his fellow Red Mantis Assassins. He reaches out to his mentor, Jaquen.

Jaquen informs him that he took the man he is hunting and is keeping him alive. He has a job for J’Mal that must be done in two days. Payment will be 5,000gp and the corrupt guard he seeks.

The target is a lesser noble who thinks himself a brilliant bard, but is quite awful. Jaquen suspects the man will be at the public excrutiation that will no doubt be scheduled when Oppian is inevitably found guilty. He mentions that the man will have rather stout bodyguards present, but the contract specifies that a public death will earn a bonus 5,000gp.

J’Mal takes the contract and returns home to Falco Manor with El Guapo just before dawn. In the morning, Freya and Jason are summoned to speak at the trial of Oppian Nevilindor on the charge of High Treason. There they meet Zara Orcelani and give their testimony over the course of the next six hours.

After the defendant is declared officially guilty, trial is adjourned.

Zara takes Freya to Thumbtown, the craftsman’s district in Egorian. She says to Freya “It’s finished. You’ve earned it.” as the carriage stops at a large and well built Blacksmith. “I requested assignment to the front.” she continues. “There’s war in Westcrown so that’s where I’m going. Good luck.”

With that she lets Freya out of the carriage, and tells the driver to head for the Promenade. Freya watches her go, and turns to meet a small but muscular older man who greets her with a huge smile. “You are Freya.. You must be! Come inside!”

He takes her to one of his forges, which has been cleaned and cleared of all projects but one. In the center of the room on a stand, is a suit of adamantine Hell Knight plate that is such a dark shade of crimson that it appears black save where the sunlight touches it. Freya painstakingly puts on her new armor. Each piece fits her more perfectly than any armor she has ever known.

The old man gestures to a cot in the corner, with a blanket and pillow neatly folded and stacked on it.

“She worked more than 20 hours a day for five days. She demanded food and water sometimes, and very rarely asked for any help from our smiths. She would not name it, but I call it Zara Geitta. It is the old language of my people meaning 'Zara watches over you.’”

Tomorrow is the public excruciation of Oppian so the party decides to make an early night of it, all except one. Draymus Mortiar skulks out into the night and quite deliberately seeks one of the poorer districts, looking for vagrants.

He finds two, as he is very nearly stabbed from behind while walking through the darker streets of Egorian. He detects them in time, and turns on his attackers. He casts Phantasmal Killer at the nearest homeless man who is brandishing a crude knife. The man drops to his knees, screaming in horror at an unseen peril and quite literally dies of fright. The second assailant flees.

Draymus raises the dead man with his other new and exciting spell: Flesh Puppet. The man is now a zombie, but can speak and appears just as he did when alive. Draymus also purchases an antique wheelchair and disguises himself as an elderly man, commanding his zombie to push him wherever he wishes to go....

The next day, the team assembles in a public square with nearly a thousand other spectators. They have come to watch their enemy of the last several months finally meet justice. The Dottari guards and Asmodean Clergy read off a litany of charges against Oppian, who stands silent.

As the proceedings continue and Oppian is strapped to a table, Freya notices El Guapo and J’Mal skulking away. At first she keeps up with them as the crowd quickly moves out of the path of her shining Hell-Knight plate.

She follows them but loses them in the crowd near a very well guarded young noble. She does not know the young man personally but she recognizes his family crest and recalls hearing that his family may be rebel sympathizers...

She is about to strike up a conversation, when the young noble erupts in a fountain of blood from an unseen assailant. After two sudden lurches, the top of his head is separated from his body and blood sprays all over his four bodyguards. J’Mal’s vanish spell fades and he stands behind the falling corpse, covered in blood with both his sawtooth sabers in his hands.

Before J’Mal can use his armor to fade into the ethereal realm, the four body guards turn on him and draw longswords. Electricity courses and crackles down their blades as they attack the hobgoblin rogue. Only three manage to strike at the him, as El Guapo intervenes on the fourth and stabs him straight through both lungs and then through the skull.

J’Mal is devastated by the sword strikes carrying three shocking grasp spells into his body. He falls unconscious and is near death.

Freya flies into action, quickly cutting down two of the bodyguards as Draymus asks his wheelchair pushing zombie “Joe Kek” to wheel him closer to the action and he casts a Hold-Person spell on the last bodyguard. El Guapo easily executes the man with a coup de grace.

Jason and Corrine arrive on the scene last, and Jason stabilizes and heals Jamal who instantly jaunts into the ethereal realm to escape the scene.

Freya calms the Dottari as they respond to the violence, naming the victims as rebel sympathizers and allowing the guards to infer that they may have been planning to disrupt the excrutiation. Unfortunately, since the victim was of Noble birth, there will be an official inquiry. As they are represented by a Cleric of Asmodeus and a Hell Knight, they are not arrested.

Freya resolves to have a talk with her party over this incident.

The ceremony is eventually resumed and Oppian’s soul is given to Asmodeus.

#hellsvengeance #pathfinder #pfrpg #d&d #cheliax #thrune #adventurepath

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