#if i would tell you all the nooks and notions

[nevsclowntown]

in which dutch & hosea nurse sick arthur back to health in their little farmstead. Dutch bought two chickens and they are his silver lining, while Arthur makes fun of them for being only two little chicken, which is a pathetic number for a farmstead. 

[wheneclipsefalls]

Grovel: Part 1

Pairing: Aged Up Lo'ak x Fem Omatikaya Reader

Summary: Lo'ak broke your heart all those years ago. If he plans to woo you once more it is going to take a lot more than a debonair grin.

Warnings: angst, aged up Lo'ak, future NSFW, broken hearts, cheating, swearing, etc.

A/N: I wrote the majority of this in a couple hours so.....it's rough.

You prayed to Eywa it would fit. Getting Lo’ak’s measurements without him becoming suspicious had been a job in and of itself, but now it was sure to pay off. With your relationship being kept on the down low there were truly only a few ways you could publicly show your affection for the youngest Sully brother. Creating this arm band for him had been a delight and had set butterflies off in your stomach. 

There was something about the notion of forbidden love that had your heart racing at every moment the two of you stole together. It was new and exciting but even more than that it was a risk that made you feel alive. 

It was hard to believe that the two of you had gone from lifelong frenemies to lovers in only a few months. Of course the greatest level of intimacy you had shared were a few tender kisses and snuggling embraces. Lo’ak had  been your first kiss, sweeping you off your feet until every other ignorant young male had paled in comparison. 

Since then there had been no hope for your young heart to resist. It was everything and more that you had dreamed of since you were a child hearing of your parent’s own love story. Love had been found in the most unexpected of people but it was true. You could no longer deny how hard and fast you had fallen for the male. And tonight you were finally going to tell him. 

With a courting gift worthy for the mightiest of warriors your love would be proclaimed and hopefully his own would be there to reciprocate. 

A jittering tingle raced down your arms and legs, pushing you to run faster through the forest. It was a miracle you didn’t throw up from the motion after the way your own nerves had tied your stomach into knots. However, running gave your pent up energy somewhere to go and now more than ever you needed a release. Lo’ak didn’t know the two of you were meeting today.

That’s what made it all the better.

A perfect surprise the trickster himself would never see coming. 

He would be under the Tree of Souls as he always was in the afternoons, the place where he claimed to have his best thoughts. Someday he would surely tell you what those thoughts were but today you prayed his mind would be full of you. Just the way the bastard always managed to cram himself into every nook and cranny of your mind. It seemed only fair that he suffered the same. 

Light still prevailed but new colors painted the sky as Eclipse came inched closer.The tendrils of Vitraya Ramunong were already beginning to shimmer from where they hung. 

Your cheeks hurt from smiling when you spotted his slim form, even as your own knees trembled with anticipation. 

Just play it cool, you reminded yourself. There was no reason to worry so long as you managed to get out three little words. The intricate beads of the arm band started to create imprints in your palm from how tight you held it. 

One last steadying breath before you scaled down the tree trunk. A giggle almost escaped your throat when you had the brilliant idea to sneak up on him. Last week he had given you quite the scare while you were weaving a basket. Now would be the perfect time for payback.

“It’s so beautiful!”

Your feet scraped against the bark into a halt. 

“I told you this is the best time to come here.” Lo’ak responded and he wasn’t alone. From this new vantage point you could now see a smaller female figure behind him, her eyes casted upwards at the enchanting view of the Tree of Soul’s increasing glow. 

“Yes but I thought that was only your way of getting me alone.” Those long lashes fluttered back at him, a playful smile sweeping over her lips. Lo’ak shrugged, an ever familiar smirk lacing his own. 

“So what if it was? I didn’t see you putting up much of a fight.” 

“The best predators know the importance of giving their prey a false sense of security.” Her eyes danced with a maturity so beyond her years it was almost vulgar. Lo’ak’s tail whipped back and forth, eating up every taunting seduction from the palm of her hand. 

“Well I only let the prettiest girls catch me in their webs.” 

The distance was closed between them with only a few steps before she was reaching up on her toes and dragging him into a sinful kiss. One oh so different from the type you two had shared. A sensual kiss that you had only heard of but never experienced. And that was one thing you could tell from this other female, she wielded so much more power and experience than you ever could. 

Still that wasn’t what mattered because when they finally pulled apart for gasps of air it was sweet promises of affection and future mating that poured from Lo’ak’s lips. 

The same vows that had been clutching your heart over the past few months.

The same lullabies that filled your dreams with fantasies of your lives together. 

Today, they sang for her instead. 

You were foolish to think they ever belonged to you, nothing more than a beautiful mirage your first love had woven to snatch you up. 

A small sob alerted them to your presence. Eyes wide you only stared back at him for a moment before bolting to the trees.

The crafted armband abandoned on the ground. 

Lo’ak had always been a pain in the ass. There was no better way to describe him. Not when he was your childhood nuisance turned to first love to then first heartbreak. The day his family left for Awa'atlu you tried to stay strong. At that point things had already been ruined between you. His player nature had been exposed and the male had only a week of trying to explain himself before the incident happened and the Sully family left the Omatikaya for good. 

Or at least, what you thought was for good. 

Their return had been something that many had hoped for but one that you had never allowed yourself to believe. Even when you were still in the mourning stages of your relationship and their disappearance you had fortified one single idea in your mind. Lo’ak leaving was for the best. It would allow you to move on.

And so you had. Taking much longer than you would have liked but slowly your hammock dried of tears and you began to focus on other things outside of the youngest Sully boy. Your foolish young heart had grown strong in wisdom and might. Your skills as a healer had become more polished with every day you spent under Mo’at’s instruction. Adulthood came and fell upon you in a way that suited your new talents and attitude. Not a day passed where you weren’t seeking to support the clan and People in one way or another. 

Tarsem was a wonderful Olo’eyktan. He led the People with the necessary vision and courage it took to keep the Sky People out of your lands. Some days came with great losses, exposing you to more curious injuries by their machines than you could have imagined in the healer’s tent. However, those days you took with pride too. The Omatikaya never lost heart. They never gave up on protecting their home. 

You weren’t the only ones either. Stories of battling demon ships traveled overseas, ingraining the memory of mighty Metkayina defending their lands and conquering against all odds. Each time those stories found their way to the fire’s circle you had tried not to envision Lo’ak’s part in all of it. Some days were easier than others. And yet some you couldn’t shake the visual of the warrior that you patched up in front of you being a certain Sully boy and not another Omatikaya warrior. It frustrated you to no end the lengths of your care for him but over time you made peace with the fact that his death was never announced.

And that was good enough.

Because that fact was the only one he had deserved for you to care about and nothing more.  

It had taken years, the battle shaping so much of your shift from adolescence into adulthood. When all was said and done, however, the Sky People burned the forest with their demon ships one last time and then they too became nothing more than a star in the night sky. A celebration unlike any other had immediately gone underway. Your older sister, Talu, could hardly breathe with how many beaded and feathered tops she had been commissioned to construct for various men and women in the clan. 

Your own work had graciously slowed down and for the first time since perhaps the day those demons invaded Pandora, you relaxed. 

Peace was not yours to be had, however. 

You had been halfway through washing in the hot springs when the news had come. The Sully family was set to return by the night of the celebration. And not to visit but to reclaim the throne and be herded back as one of the Omatikaya once more and forever. The shrieking females that had run to tell their other friends didn’t seem to notice when you accidentally swallowed and choked on a mouthful of spring water. 

They were too busy hypothesizing what the Sully brothers would look like now. Some even made bets on whether or not they would be returning home unmated. The conversation had been the opposite of peace, prompting you to sneak away and have your panic attack in the privacy of your own home. 

“Will you stop squirming for one minute?” Talu reprimanded but an amused giggle laced her voice. 

“Ma Talu, please tell me you are almost done.” Another pearl was carefully strung through your long wavy hair. 

“Art takes time.” She smiled softly. “And that’s what you are. A magnificent piece of art.” 

Talu had not necessarily been wrong in her statement. After the countless hours she had put into constructing your curved top out of rare gems and strung your hair with bioluminescent pearls, you had transformed into something of ethereal beauty. And yet, the last thing you wanted was to stand out. What had started as a celebration to be anticipated had for you turned into a nightmare just waiting to happen. 

Eywa had given you three days to prepare for tonight. Three whole days where you had solidified your resolve and reminded yourself that Lo’ak Sully was no longer anyone but another clan member to you. You were going to be cordial and respectful like you would another clan brother but no flicker of even remembering your past with him. Not a single mention of how he had shattered your young heart into a million pieces and left you there to weave it back together for years. 

The old you was dead and with that so was your relation to him. 

It still didn’t ease your dread however. As Na’vi of all ages gathered around hometree and looked to the skies, you had scrambled to look for an excuse to be elsewhere. The air buzzed with excitement and every yip and call in anticipation felt like the chiming of a clock to you. One second closer to facing a part of your past you had buried too deep. 

Talu had been immersed in the excitement with everyone else. You had never told her of Lo’ak’s betrayal. Even on the night you found him kissing another girl under Vitraya Ramunong you had fled to cry alone in the woods. Truth be told you had never even told her of the relationship in the first place. It had been something of a secret between the two of you and one that Lo’ak had insisted upon. Of course the truth of why that was important to him had eventually come to light. 

Talu yelled and jumped with the others as the far ikrans dotted the horizon. Perhaps she would ask where you had wandered off to later but you had time to think of an excuse. No one had even noticed your absence as you seeked refuge in the depths of Eywa’s forest. The clan had burst into such a ruckus that it took a good distance to turn that shrieking into a distant rumble. 

You had escaped in just the knick of time. 

The small glowing river fish had swirled around the branch you glided through the water for what felt like hours. It was calming, spending time with creatures that knew nothing of your demise. Still, you couldn’t hide forever. Talu was sure to be looking for you and it was customary to take part in clan events, especially ones as momentous as this. 

So many years had already passed and your growth had been profound. Lo’ak had no right to make you scatter and hide like a timid prey. Besides, he most likely would not remember you in the first place. So with that perspective he did not deserve to be remembered either. 

Na’vi of all ages bounded and danced with such fervent zeal it could only be described as instinctual. Joy radiated from every pore and each movement was honored as another prayer of gratitude to the Great Mother. Naer [Alcohol] of the finest quality was freely passed and taken until laughter bounced from the trees. Of course the most elaborate and breathtaking attire was worn by clan members, especially those who remained unmated. 

Surely post war would be a time for many such pairings to come about and furthermore the ideal moment to start a family. 

You shook your head at the thought. It was a charming idea and you had been with more than your fair share of men intimately since reaching maturity but now was not the right time for you. Even then, the right male had not deigned to present himself yet. 

Color drained from your cheeks when you finally spotted Talu. Her eyes sparkled with happiness in the moonlight and cheeks ached from smiling so much but she was not alone. A tall figure faced her, leaned against a tree trunk with crossed ankles. Immediately you recognized the specific pattern of jagged stripes that covered his skin. 

However, that was perhaps the only thing you recognized from Lo’ak. He had grown. Grown oh so much and you knew he would have, but not like this. Somehow a part of you had still expected the same beanpole of a fourteen year old to show up. Now…Lo’ak had grown in stature in a way that only a Metkayina could. His build was accentuated with thick biceps and broad shoulders that only further brought out the contrast of his tapered waist. 

It was as if your eyes were playing tricks on you, searching to find where that lanky boy had gone to leave behind this sculpted male. 

His skin was different too. Those stripes you had come to adore during adolescence had now been joined by dark ink. Curious designs lined his side before traveling into swirling patterns that danced over his hips and even outer thighs. Squinting in the fire’s light you could just make out how that ink traveled straight to the band of his loincloth before slipping under. 

No.

Nope. 

That was dangerous territory and simply none of your business. 

Trying to distract your over curious brain you find yourself observing his hair instead. Those two signature braids still hung over his forehead but they were adorned with various objects and shells that you did not recognize. Even more surprising, his decorated braids were tied together as a top knot. It brought out the shape of his jawline and cheekbones, chiseled until they could cut like a knife. 

Life was unfair. If you didn’t know it before you surely knew it now because how else could this traitor grow to be so impeccably handsome? Such an enchanting mix of two cultures swirled into one male at his prime. 

Your teeth grinding was cut short by a firm hand around your bicep.

“Come, child.” Mo’at sternly directed. She didn’t offer an explanation as you were led to the front of the celebration but you knew better than to ask for one. 

Mo’at lined up every healer in front of the ravenous crowd. All it took was one hand in the air to silence the commotion. All eyes turned to their Tsahik. 

“My People,” She called in a boisterous voice. “We gather together tonight in thanks of our Great Mother. By her will, we have prevailed as a People with strong hearts. By her mercy, the balance of life has been restored.” The crowd broke out into a chorus of calls and yips that rumbled the forest. 

“In gratitude we must not grow weary. Our hearts forever imprinted with the memory of what has been sacrificed. To this I call upon you to look at your brothers and sisters and rejoice! See all that they have given.” The yelling increased tenfold and you swallowed that lump in your throat. You are not about to cry in front of the entire clan. 

“I thank those especially who stand before us.” The focus shifted to fall upon you and the other handful of healers to your left and right. Even with the attention born between the group of you, it still weighed heavy. “Those who have stitched our wounds and lightened our sorrows. As Eywa herself has taught us, there is nothing that can not be mended by gentle hands.” 

Mo’at stood now between you and another healer, one hand placed on her shoulder and the other on yours. As the cheers bellowed into the sky, you caught a glimpse of Talu pointing you out as Lo’ak leaned forward. She said something you could neither understand nor wanted to know. Gaze forced away by pure will, you barely escaped seeing when Lo’ak’s gaze finally pinned you down. 

It didn’t matter, though.

Not when those golden orbs burned like liquid fire through your veins.

There were so many people you could occupy your time with. At this point you were willing to talk to Neteyam if it meant avoiding his younger brother. Pushing through the crowd was more difficult than you anticipated but you prayed that it would be enough to keep Talu and her new friend at bay too. 

“Ma Neteyam,” You hastily greeted, signing ‘I see you’ as he turned to face you. It was a miracle you had even been able to recognize the eldest Sully in the first place with his new tattoos and metkayina clothing. 

“Ma Y/N.” Although surprised, he returned the gesture with a polite smile. “You look well, sister.” 

His voice was so much lower than you remembered. 

“As do you.” An awkward silence threatened to settle between you and if you wanted to ward off potential advances you needed this to appear as enthralling as possible. “That is a charming necklace. What is it made of?” Your dainty fingers shakily came to thumb over the obscure object. To Neteyam’s credit, he only barely flinched at your unexpected touch. 

“A special sea glass from Awa’atlu. Some beaches are littered with them.” 

“Wow, that is fascinating.” It wasn’t. Any other day it might have been but you couldn’t focus enough to appreciate it fully. 

“That little piece is truly nothing once you’ve seen the whole beach.” This voice rumbled at your back, just close enough to feel his body heat prickle your skin. Your composure was not easily won over but it was forced into place just as you were forced to finally face him.

“Sister, we have been looking all over for you. Such a busy body.” Talu nervously laughed but one look told you that she knew about your earlier ditching of festivities. 

“Y/N.” Lo’ak gave you the same gesture of respect, voice gravely and low in a way that had chills racing up your spine. His eyes made contact with your own  for only a second as you returned the polite formalities, eyes shifting to his right shoulder as to feign looking at him properly. 

“Lo’ak.” It came out snippier than you intended, evident in the way his eyebrows turned down at the edges. 

“I apologize for my absence. I was…caught up.” Lo’ak’s tail flickered at the last part but a charming grin still stretched across his lips. Stepping out of his line of fire you divulged a distraction by initiating Talu and Neteyam’s greetings. This way you were able to take some much needed steps away from Lo’ak and focus primarily on the other members present. 

Neteyam and Talu filled the conversation easily, only requiring a few additions from you upon occasion. Even when it waned into subjects you were far from interested in, your body remained braced and alert as if you were swallowing every word said. The perfect defense against meeting Lo’ak’s gaze again. Even a protection against drooling over his muscular physique that had surely been carved by Eywa. 

“Well I shouldn’t leave my sister.” That snapped you out of your daze immediately. 

“She can dance with Lo’ak.” Neteyam smiled, as if he hadn’t just granted your worst nightmare come true. And to him he hadn’t because when you stuttered to find a response that reaction was only seen as adorable nerves. One that Lo’ak quickly stepped in to charm away. 

“Do not worry, tanhi. I’ve learned to not trip over my feet now.” And he grinned. That bastard had the audacity to jest and tease like the two of you had been old friends. Talu sent you a pleading look, one that said you would never hear the end of this if you didn’t play a good wingwoman right now. There was little that could be done about it now as he led you into the crowd. 

Lo’ak was true to his word. He had become quite the dancer, enough so that your own actions could easily follow his lead. When your hands occasionally brushed you tried to sweep them away as soon as possible. 

“You’ve grown.” 

“What?” You shouted back over the banging drums and he laughed in response.

“I said you have grown up, tanhi. Can’t believe it.” His fangs peeked out as he grinned, so carefree and genuine it sent your mind racing. Who the hell did he think he was?

“Well that happens.” You answered shortly, strategically choosing now to swerve into a spin. Anything to avoid his gleeful expression. 

“I mean yes of course but I just didn’t think it was possible for you to become even more beautiful.” 

The spin grinded to a halt. Lo’ak stopped dancing too but where his expression flitted with flirtatious amusement your own was nothing but pure ice. It cut through him until that smirk was wavering. 

“Are you fucking serious?!” The heaving drumming was a welcomed source of privacy, distracting the others from your rage. Everyone besides Lo’ak, whose brows knitted before letting out a short laugh. 

“Um yes? I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” 

“Oh I wouldn’t put it past you.” Bitter and harsh like the look in your eyes, Lo’ak was taken aback. 

You didn’t give him time to recover, however as you slipped past the other dancing Na’vi. Lo’ak caught up easily, long legs keeping him right on your heels. 

“Woah woah hey, y/n. Where are you going?” 

“Away from you. I don’t have time for this.” 

He caught your arm when the two of you had just reached the outskirts of the celebration. Hois hand was slapped away but that didn't stop him from blocking your escape. 

“Time for what? I’ve just missed you is all.” 

“Missed me?” His words were so infuriating that you found your own sputtering to form sentences. Was it possible he suffered a brain condition? Memory loss? How else could he stand before you now and pretend that the last note the two of you had left off on had not been him shattering your heart. “You….” Another steadying deep breath in. “You think that after what you put me through that you could come back in and sweep me up for a hook up?”

Lo’ak shuffled backwards slightly, away from your accusing finger. 

“Tha-”

“Or maybe you have already forgotten what happened. I’m sure it would be easier to ignore how you acted like the clan’s whore while spewing promises to me.” 

His jaw dropped, all evidence of that confidence swept away.

“Well in case you’ve forgotten, you’ve already screwed over this girl so cross me off your list.” 

It seemed that his brain was lagging because this time when you shuffled around him you weren’t immediately cut off. Still, it appeared he had maintained his forest legs because he didn’t struggle to make up for lost ground. 

“Y/n, I didn’t….” He sighed through his nose. “It’s just that….that was so long ago. I didn’t even know how much of that you remembered.” 

“Excuse me?” You wheeled back on him, taking secret pleasure in the way Lo’ak did in fact trip over his feet this time. He recovered quickly but there was a frazzled energy to his movements. 

“No, no! Shit I…. that came out wrong.”

You save him the trouble of trying to string together an explanation. It was worth neither of your times not to mention how silly you felt for bringing it up in the first place. What did it matter after all these years? Nothing. That is what you had always told yourself and his appearance was not going to change that. 

“Lo’ak, mawey. You’re right it was a long time ago so let’s just put it behind us and make one thing clear.” His ears perked, eyes rounded as it appeared the very breath in his lungs became stagnant. “We are not friends. I’m happy for you and your family but only in the way everyone else is happy for your return. You stay in your lane and I will stay in mine. That way, everyone is happy.” 

“Not everyone.” He murmured, ears pressed flat against his braids. 

There was a flicker of hope present in his eyes, as if waiting for you to spontaneously forget the past and welcome him with open arms. You hoped your speedy exit was enough to blow that flame out.

This is my random little story I've been working on to keep my mind off the break up. If you like it, please let me know and I will continue to work on and post the next parts:)

unofficial tag list: @pandoraslxna @pandoraslovesworld @faintfill @rivatar @neteyamssyulang

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Unexpectedly Yours: Part 13

Fandom: Ted Lasso (Regency AU)

Pairing: Roy Kent x F!Reader

Summary: Lord Roy Kent still has yet to marry. He hates the notion that marriage is a way to ensure your status in society. You have delayed your debut to society for years because of the same idea. So what happens when two people who hate the idea of marriage are constantly drawn to each other?

Series Masterlist

You feign illness the day after your discovery of Roy and Duchess Georgina. You couldn't find the strength to do anything at all.

Your mother had checked up on you, of course, after breakfast. You reassured her it was just a head cold that would dissipate within a day or two.

Around lunch time, your lady's maid came into your room, "Miss, um, Lord Kent is here to see you."

You sigh, looking over your shoulder from your writing desk, "Tell him that I'm ill and in no state to see anyone today."

You can see your hand maid have some hesitation, but she only replies with, "Yes, miss." She leaves promptly.

You sigh, moving from your writing desk to your reading nook in your window sill. It was your favorite part of your room. The way the sun shines through it, illuminating the small cubicle. It also gave you a few of the street below. When you're not in the mood to read, you like to watch people go about their days.

Unfortunately, when you decide to peer down, you see Lord Kent exit your home and bound back to his carriage. For some reason, he turns and looks up, immediately catching your gaze. You see sorrow in his eyes but you scoff, immediately moving away from the window.

He has the audacity to be upset when you found him with his ex-lover? How dare he!

_______________________________

Clara watches her brother pace back and forth in the drawing room. After he told her what happened, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. She never liked Georgina and of course she would find a way to still hurt Roy after all these years.

"She hasn't written me about breaking off the engagement so that must be a good sign, right?" Roy asks his sister, "Maybe I should try to see her again later? I caught a glimpse of her and she seemed well."

Clara rolls her eyes, "Brother, trust me, she needs time. Allow her that. She's heartbroken."

"But if she'll let me talk to her, I can ease her-"

"Roy!"

He stops, looking at his sister helplessly, "Please, give her time. Maybe, I should see her later rather you?"

Roy relents with a sigh, "Fine. I suppose that is best."

_________________________

Before dinner, your lady's maid announces that Clara was here to see you. Did Roy really send his sister to speak with you? A part of you wants to send her away as well but decide against that.

"I'll meet her in the drawing room."

Moments later, you enter the drawing room to find Clara sitting on the chaise sipping some tea.

She stands to greet you, "Hello, Y/N."

You curtsey, "Ma'am," and then sit on a chair across from her.

Clara chuckles, "Back to formalities again?" You don't answer and she continues to speak, "I heard you were feeling unwell earlier. I take it you're feeling better?"

"Getting there."

Clara hums, "My brother didn't send me. In fact, I decided to come here instead of Roy." She pauses to see if you would say anything, but you remain silent. She sighs, "Roy may be an arse sometimes, but he would never hurt you like that, Y/N. He loves you. Truly. I've never seen him this way before. Georgina may have been his first love, but you, you're different."

You slump forward, all propriety slipping from you, "I just can't see him right now, Clara. Give me another day and I'll be ready to talk to him."

She nods and stands. She makes the short distance to you and places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to him, Y/N. He wouldn't ruin this. What you saw, I'm sure, was very heartbreaking, but I think you should listen to Roy has to say," she kisses your head before leaving.

______________________

After breakfast, your handmaiden accompanies you to the Kent estate. You're escorted to the sitting room and one of Roy's servants steps out to find his master. It's not long until Roy bursts into the room.

You swallow down a nervous gulp and stand, "Good day, sir," you curtsey and Roy's jaw clenches.

"Please, don't do that. You don't ever need to do that with me."

You sit down and Roy, hesitantly sits on the couch with you, but on the opposite end.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, nervously rubbing his hand along his pant leg.

"Physically, I'm fine, but...my heart hurts, Roy."

Roy gulps and nods, "I understand. What you saw that day-I'm sure I'd feel the same if the circumstances were switched. But, Y/N," he turns his entire body to face you, "I can assure you what you saw was unwanted by me. Ge-The Duchess had thrown herself at me."

"Why though? Why would she do such a thing if she's already married? Married to a man that she left you for, no less."

Roy couldn't help but chuckle, "When she saw us together at the ball, she saw how happy I was. How happy I am when I'm with you. Unfortunately for her, her marriage to the Duke isn't what she expected it to be. She wants an annulment and wants to be with me again." He watches as your jaw clenches and you grip your dress tightly.

He reaches out, placing his hand over yours, "Hey," he says softly, "I don't want anything to do with her, Y/N. Only you. You infuriatingly beautiful and smart woman, you. You drive me up the walls in the best way. You challenge me and you fit so well with Clara and Phoebe. I can't see myself with anyone but you, Y/N."

"So, you still love me and you still want to marry me?"

Roy chuckles, "I gave you that, frankly, incredibly romantic speech and you still ask me if I still love and marry you?"

He brings your gloved hand to his mouth and kisses it, "I love you. I adore you. I yearn for you. Irrevocably so. I want to be by your side forever."

You immediately press your lips to Roy's and you can feel him smiling. He pulls you closer to deepen the kiss but the door pushes open and you hear a surprised gasp.

You pull apart to see Clara with a smirking from the threshold, "Well, I'm happy things turned out well."

You promptly distance yourself from Roy, "Apologies."

"Don't be. I'm just glad my brother won't be sulking around the house anymore."

Roy glared at his sister, "I wasn't sulking."

"Of course you weren't, brother. Anyways, I believe you two should continue wedding planning, yes?"

You shoot up from your place on the couch, "Yes! Oh goodness, there's still so much to do," you turn back to Roy, "Will you be available today? Oh, nevermind, it's too last minute. You must have-"

Roy chuckles as he stands, "I'll cancel my meetings. My future wife needs me," he slips his hand into yours and looks at you with loving eyes.

[cloudseeker14]

Late Spring (Scaramouche x GN!Reader)

Pairing : Scaramouche x GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: The Balladeer's heart had always been a closed door but you'd managed to throw it open. Your love, though he never knew how to return it, was like warm sunlight kissing his skin. Yet, good things never last, do they?

Love. 

A word that shook the heart of every creature with tumultuous yearning, the subject of bards in every drinking den across Teyvat. 

Scaramouche could only scoff at the ridiculous notion. Love could never be true, not within the boundaries of a wretched, heartless world where emotions were a source of disdain. 

Not in a realm where his tears meant being cast aside, a creature as noble as him was supposed to be as steadfast as the mountains that slumbered in stone. 

Especially not in a world where you couldn’t exist. 

Scaramouche downed a bottle of whiskey, leaning against the headrest of his velvet armchair as he relished the burning sensation of the drink running down his throat. 

The stinging tethered him to this pathetic plane of existence, fastening the strings of his limbs to the earth as he attempted to fly away to the heavens. 

He could still remember that night, the wind had felt frigid on his porcelain skin as bonfires reached up to the sky. 

The fatui had been rejoicing, their hoarse cries of victory at the thought of another pesky obstacle in their path being tossed into oblivion. 

Yet, all he could see was you, all thoughts of merrymaking cast aside at the sight of your bright laughter. The sound of your joy had been a gentle breeze, blowing the cobwebs and opening the windows to sunlight in his heart. 

You’d drunk yourself to a slobbering mess, stumbling around as you jested with your peers. Scaramouche swirled his cup of cherry red wine, positively relishing the blush that coloured your face when you met his eyes.

After a couple of hours of painstaking formalities with the other harbingers, The Balladeer couldn’t help the groan that escaped from his throat as the gathering cleared,leaving him all alone with the stars and his mind.

His accursed mind, tormented with the sights of eras long gone.

He could practically see those cruel violet eyes in front of him, mercilessly casting him down from the heavens as he writhed in the air.

Scaramouche shuddered, breathing shakily, the silence penetrating the nooks of his heart.

Just as he was about to return to his quarters, he’d felt a tap on his shoulder.

The harbinger whirled around, only to be greeted by your charming face.

“I wouldn’t have come for this banquet if you were only going to keep staring at me.” You smiled, clasping his hands

If any other soul had done that simple action, it would have warranted instant death but what could Scaramouche say, in your hands he’d always been putty.

You stared at Scaramouche, eyes raking over the way the moonlight lit his porcelain features.

The way his clear blue eyes seemed to hold the depth of all the oceans of Teyvat itself.

The way that soft smile making its way into the corners of his lips had your heart bursting into flames.

“I missed you.” He muttered

“Hmm, what was that again?” You smirked, snaking your arm around his waist

“Don’t test me.” Scaramouche gritted, but the growing grin on his face said otherwise.

The two of you sat between the tall blades of grass, the birds chirped softy as a shooting star whizzed past.

“Did you see that!? Scaramouche, please tell me you saw it!” You cheered, your eyes practically about to fall from their sockets.

You were radiant, a source of such pure vividness that even someone as vile as him couldn’t shun away from.

“Yeah.” Scaramouche said, staring at you as he traced the lines of your palm. “It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

Deep inside you both knew he didn’t mean the star.

“Y/N.” The harbinger called, gently laying his head on your shoulder.

You stiffened, your heartbeat echoing in your ears as his cold breaths fanned your neck.

“You’ll stay with me, right? Always?”

“Always.”

“Once I get that gnosis, you’ll have to be the one by my side,” He confessed, biting the inside of his cheek “It can never be anyone other than you.”

“Whether you have the gnosis or not makes no difference to me, but if it makes you happy, I’ll stay by your side as long as you want me to be there.”

Scaramouche could swear that a strange warmth seemed to blossom in his chest, but that would remain a thought for him to ponder during a freezing, lonely night.

You placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. “I love you.” You whispered

Scaramouche nodded, closing his eyes. What else could he say? How could a creature like him, a broken puppet with neither a heart nor strong will, be able to understand the intensity of your words?

You knew you would never hear it back but that was fine, it would just be a silent prayer you’d utter to him each day. You didn’t need that simple sentence to understand how he felt, as long as you could still see that gleam in his eyes when he looked at you, you knew you had nothing to worry about.

It was love, Scaramouche just hadn’t understood it yet.

—

With you in his life, Scaramouche knew he was invincible, nothing could stop him anymore. 

He was no longer that fragile creature, sobbing and wailing, he was going to be a god.

The gnosis was so close to falling within his grasp that Scaramouche could practically taste victory on the tip of his tongue. 

Yet, all those thoughts fell apart into dust fluttering in the wind at the sight of you on the ground, your skin devoid of it’s warmth. 

Hair clung to forehead, drenched in blood as you pitifully covered the gaping hole in your stomach. 

“S-scaramouche,“ You called, feebly reaching for the man you were bound to leave 

“Who did this to you!?“ Scaramouche bellowed, cupping your face

A whimper escaped his lips at the coldness of your body and with every second that passed, Scaramouche swore he could see the light fading from your eyes.

“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t make it through.“ You felt warm tears falling upon your arm and you forced yourself to look at Scaramouche, the bottom of your lip trembling as the harbinger stifled his sobs. 

“I won’t let you die!“ He bellowed, tightening his grip on you. You weakly shook your head as your vision blurred. 

“I love you, Scaramouche. D-don’t forget me.“

No. 

No. 

It couldn’t be you. 

Another betrayal, another mar upon his frivolous existence. 

You grasped his arm tightly, hopelessly trying to hold on to the last embers of life within you just to not leave the man before you ablaze in rage. 

But alas, the archons had other plans, and you shut your eyes; blissfulness washing over you. 

Scaramouche would have followed you to the ends of the world but at that moment, you’d slipped away to a paradise he’d never be able to reach. 

“I love you too."

Those were the words that escaped Scaramouche’s lips, only to be heard by the stars. 

He knew what love meant now. 

It was you. 

It was your touch, the comfort you'd ushered him into.

It was the web of passion he had allowed himself to be foolishly woven into.

You, the one who’d made him have a heart by giving yours even though he’d done nothing to deserve such a boon. 

Scaramouche couldn’t help but bawl your name, the wind carrying the puppet’s rage across Teyvat and to the archons. 

The world shouldn't be the same without you, it should have been torn apart in flames that should tower the mightiest pantheon, stifling every creature with smoke.

A world without you had no right to have even a glimmer of beauty.

Scaramouche remained rooted in place, the facade of the ruthless harbinger shattering into pieces, leaving only a wailing child stuck in the body of a man crying for the loss of his only salvation.

[whxtedreams]

Chapter 14 - Sunflowers, Sunflowers, Sunflowers

Summary: It's been too long since you left Jackson, Tommy sets off to find you and Joel.

Tags: Tommy POV, Violence, blood, Tommy on the hunt, Joel and flowers omg, happy!joel

Word Count: 4.2k

A thick cloud of murky brown smoke pours from a gaping hole in the side of what used to be a school building. The bodies of the fallen lay all around him as he steps over yet another butchered corpse that still contains a rusted knife protruding from where that dead man's heart should be. The smell of decay and death fills the air as he moves closer towards the building, and the silence is deafening.

Tommy had discovered your note hanging on your fridge the morning after you left. The note had been written in an almost hurried and erratic hand and as he read its contents, he realised once more that you had left without saying a word to him. No goodbye, no notice of where you were going or when you might return, all he was left with was that note and an overwhelming sense of guilt.

You had left him with the chance of never coming back, again. 

Tommy found every weapon locker in your garage to be empty, the weapons missing as he stared in frustration at the lack of contents of those lockers. He punched the metal in frustration, his rage at the knowledge that you had left without a word beginning to boil his blood as he realised that the note had been more than just an apology.  

He went to Joel’s house next, in hopes that his brother would come with him again to find you once more. Instead of finding his brother, Ellie handed him a note with an apologetic smile. 

She was going to go with or without me.  I’m sorry.  I’ll bring her back, I promise. I’ve told Ellie to come to you if she needs anything while I’m gone.  Joel

If Maria had not stopped him, he would have left in that instant and begun the trek to hunt you down and drag you back to Jackson, that stubborn streak in his personality refusing to accept the notion that you had left. She had suggested that he wait a few days, that if he were to bring you back you would just leave again anyway. 

It was drawing up to a week before he left to find you. 

Ten days after you had snuck away from Jackson without so much as a word of explanation, Tommy now stood in front of the school you had mentioned before you left. The sight of the dying smoke and the bodies at his feet tells him all that he needs to know, this massacre that had occurred had taken place around four days ago. He is now four days behind you, your trail growing ever colder by the moment. 

Through a side door that had been cracked open, Tommy moves cautiously with his flashlight, the beam of light casting a cone-shaped field and illuminating the otherwise all-consuming darkness. The light illuminates the thick wall of dust that has settled on every surface, the particles hanging in the air before settling down when disturbed. Tommy continues forth with his flashlight, slowly making his way through the crumbling ruins of this abandoned and now lifeless building.

There are copious amounts of blood splattered all over the walls and Tommy has to bite back the urge to vomit every time he catches sight of that disturbing colour that he fears is an all-too-familiar sight. He searches relentlessly, trying to search every nook and cranny of the abandoned building in an hope to avoid finding your bodies. He has not yet discovered your corpses, which he takes as a good sign but the thought lingers in the back of his mind that the worst has happened and he has been too late.

He nudges open a door slightly with his foot and the door immediately falls off its hinges, revealing an overwhelming cloud of dust and ash that erupts from the floor. The thick cloud fills the air, making him cough loudly and wave his hands frantically in an attempt to clear the air and avoid inhaling any more of that terrible pollution but the effort is futile.

With his rifle held at the ready and flashlight connected to the strap of his backpack, he walks through the room. The flames and smoke had torn through the area and completely devastated the surrounding interior. Burnt paper and broken chairs are scattered all over the ground and he walks through the rubble with a steely resolve.

His flashlight shines on a figure at the end of the room, the harsh light revealing scars and burns that have covered and disfigured their body. The figure sits limply in a chair, their hands tied and their body still and lifeless.

A sudden crunch from behind stops him from moving any further as it echoes through the room and fills the silence with an alarming level of unease. He turns cautiously with his rifle raised as he searches for the source of the noise, his eyes darting from point to point as his heart thuds hard in his chest. He cannot see anything moving out of the ordinary but the slightest noise is sending chills down his spine.

His flashlight flickers.

The sound of boots crunching the crumbling concrete is unnerving, the noise echoing and filling the room with an ominous ambiance. He cannot see anything yet as he flashlight struggles and the uncertainty of what is coming his way is causing his heart to race. He slowly raises his rifle and aims it in the direction of the noise that he had heard, his heartbeat quickening ever so slightly as he waits for something to appear in his field of vision.  

The sudden movement to his left catches his eye and he quickly turns to face the source of the sound, his body snapping to face the threat instantly. The man is leaning casually against the wall with his hands in his rust-stained brown jacket, his eyes lingering on the rifle that is aimed directly at him. Tommy's finger hovers over the trigger as he aims directly at the unexpected man that seems to have appeared out of nowhere.

“Move and I’ll blow your brains out.” Tommy threatens.

The man sighs, raising an eyebrow at Tommy at his threat. “You won't shoot me Tommy.” 

The sound of his name, spoken so calmly and casually by the man in front of him, makes his breath catch in his throat. He feels a chill run up his spine and he grips his gun tighter, his frown deepening as he glares at the man in front of him. He is unsure of who this man is or if he poses any danger but the use of his name takes him completely off-guard. 

“Who are you?” 

“Nobody.”

The man in front of him slowly takes a step forward, as if he is uncaring of the gun that is pointed directly at him. He stares at Tommy in a steady and unmoving stare as he walks closer to him. Tommy lowers his weapon and fires a bullet into the floor in front of the man before moving his aim squarely to his head, his eyes narrowing into a steely gaze.

“Next bullet goes in your head.” 

“You know you don’t have to kill everyone you see, right? I’m not here to kill you so there’s no need to be so… aggressive.” His voice is carefree, yet dark and cold as he talks. The contrast in his tone and his demeanour feels unsettling. It feels like there's a disconnect between these two aspects of his personality. A part of him seems genuine and casual while the other part comes across as deeply rooted in darkness and shadows.

Tommy knows no good will come from this man, there's something about him that seems off, almost ominous in a way that he can't quite describe. He's seen his fair share of shady people and he can't help but feel like this person is the epitome of all those shady characters combined into one. The dark tones and energy surrounding this man are like a heavy cloud that casts everything into a shadow.

“I don’t trust a damn word that comes from your mouth.” Tommy shakes his head, scoffing at the man.    

The man's hands remain in his pockets as if he is uncaring of the danger he is in. It is an unnerving sight to see. It shows a sense of confidence in the face of danger which makes Tommy feel uneasy. The man merely shrugs, seeming to dismiss the deadly threat as he shakes his head in disbelief. "I was trying to be civil Tommy," the man says softly as if the threat of violence was not a real thing at that moment. “Just remember that.” 

“Fuck being civil.” Tommy sneers before shooting the rifle. 

The man moves with practised efficiency, ducking in an un-nervingly smooth motion to avoid the bullet even as he moves closer to Tommy. As Tommy reloads his gun, the man suddenly takes his hands out of his pockets and throws a small brown fabric bag at him without breaking his stride. 

The bag explodes on impact, the smoke engulfing Tommy completely and blinding his vision as he is forced to stumble back. He blinks rapidly through eyes burning from the smoke as he attempts to clear his vision but the cloud only envelops him further, his entire view engulfed by the thick cloud that is impeding his vision and filling his lungs with the acrid smell and taste of ash and smoke.

The sudden chaos of the explosion and the blinding cloud of smoke fills him with confusion but his instincts take over instantly. He hears the man running out of the room and his senses are instantly flooded with adrenaline. He pushes out of the thick cloud of smoke and into the fresh air, regaining his footing.

He strides aggressively out of the room and is filled with the sudden adrenaline rush as anger courses through his blood. His mind is cleared and his eyes narrow with intensity as he rounds the corner and sees the man sprinting down the hallway. His gun rises as he aims it directly at the man before he shoots.

The bullet grazes against his arm and he lets out a harsh grunt of pain, but the man continues to dash across the destroyed hallway, his steps only becoming faster as he pushes himself despite the pain. He manages to get around the corner and out of sight from Tommy's gun before he is able to get another shot at him.

As much as Tommy wants to headshot him, he needs him alive. He wants to know how he knows his name. Who he is and why he’s here. 

“Fucking coward!” Tommy yells before running after him. 

The man has obviously tried to lose him, blocking corridors and turning corners into narrow spaces but the strategy fails. Tommy's instincts have taken over, the trained soldier in him has taken the wheel and he moves through the ruined and crumbled corridors with practised efficiency, pushing his body beyond its limits as he closes the distance between the two of them.

He kicks open the double doors to the gym, his eyes sharply scanning the large space as he searches for any sign of his target. His breath remains steady despite the intense physical activity that his body is currently undergoing, his movements have become an instinct rather than a choice.

His back is to the wall as he moves his body closer to the centre of the room, his eyes scanning the area and searching for his target. The chair with the pool of blood surrounding it catches his eye, his instincts yelling at him to be careful as he quickly moves closer to it while still keeping a safe distance from the pool of blood. He doesn't know if this is a trap or not but he is not willing to risk getting too close, his senses heightened from the experience thus far.

He steps closer and sees that there are sunflowers in the blood. Sunflowers. Sunflowers. Sunflowers. 

The flowers are stained in dark red blood, their once vibrant colours now muted and lifeless, their stems soaked through in the dark liquid. He freezes in his movements as he stares at the flowers with a sinking heart, his breath catching in his throat as he’s brought back to that night.

She had a sunflower in her hair the day she died, the day he held her for the last time. The flowers still in her hair were soaked in blood too. 

He can’t stop staring at the blood stained sunflowers. 

His knees sink to the floor as he reaches for a flower. The blood is cold on his fingers but the flowers are still fresh. The flowers were put here long after the blood. Someone was messing with him, but why? And how would they know this would fuck with his head, this particular flower? 

This man has been watching him. 

He rises to his feet and stares at the tainted flower, his body tensing up as a new wave of grief and sadness washes over him. He knew that the man was long gone, only trying to buy himself more time to get away and it had worked. He stares at the flower, his jaw clenched and his mind filled with a mixture of rage and sadness that were both all too familiar to him.

If this man really is watching him, he can track him down later, but right now, he needs to find you and Joel. 

He follows tire tracks back into town and Tommy finds the dead horse the next day. 

The infected bodies litter the ground, riddled with bullet holes and oozing the thick and viscous substance they had transformed into. The road is stained with a deep red colour and there is a puddle of vomit to the side, the mixture of bile and blood splattered on the road and the grass. No belongings were left behind on the horse and from the looks of it, the two of you fled. 

Good. Good. 

“Tommy?” 

He turns around quickly at the sound of his name again, his fingers twitching near the trigger and the barrel still aimed at his head. The man has his hands raised to indicate surrender and his body shows no signs of any concealed weapon but Tommy still remains alert and cautious. His anger has subsided a little bit but the rage still lingers deep down in his heart, still ready to surge at any moment's notice.

What is it with people knowing his name?

“Joel said ya might come a lookin’” 

“Where are they?”

“Back at da home.” He points behind him, smiling. 

Tommy's frown deepens further as he looks at the man in front of him, his mind racing as he tries to make sense of what has happened. He knows for certain that Joel would never willingly stay at someone else's house and neither would you. He decides he cannot trust this person in front of him. He clenches his jaw once more at the thought that the man could have hurt them and his eyes narrowed in anger.  

“What did you do to them?” 

“What? Nothin’! They help us kill cult. Stayin’ while ‘ey get better.” 

Tommy nods once in acknowledgement of the man's response before gesturing towards where the man had pointed. His voice is firm and authoritative, the threat of violence lingering underneath his tone. “Take me to them. Now.” He orders firmly, keeping his eyes on the man in front of him whilst his finger keeps a tight grip on the trigger of his gun just in case.

The man quickly obeys his order and begins to walk in the opposite direction with Tommy following closely behind with his gun still pointed at him. Tommy's heartbeat quickens with the thought that the man might do something drastic and his eyes remain glued to his figure, his mind still filled with the possibility that he could be taking him into a trap. He wasn't going to let his guard down for any reason and he kept a firm grip on his weapon with his finger firmly on the trigger.

Tommy's tone is cold and threatening, his voice like ice, his eyes piercing and his gun still pointed squarely at the man's back. "If I find out that you've hurt either of them, you're not going to like what I do to you." He warns him in a threatening tone. 

“You sound just like ‘em!” He laughs, completely ignoring the threat. 

The man's laughter throws him off and he raises an eyebrow in confusion as he stares at the man's back. The man doesn't seem to take his threat very seriously and that only made him feel more uneasy about the situation. 

Tommy follows him down dirt roads until they reach a farm. 

His breath catches in his throat as he hears their laughs, it had been so long since he'd heard these sounds that they almost seemed foreign to him. He stops and the man looks back, the sound breaking the tension between them and causing him to lower his gun slightly.

“Told ya they good.”

He sees them sitting in the grass together, backs to him as they are surrounded by children. His breath catches once more as you sit side by side, their hands moving in tandem as you teach Joel how to make the flower crowns. They seem completely oblivious to him, their attention solely focused on the flowers and children as they work together. 

He hasn’t seen you touch flowers in months. 

A child runs over to Joel, their crown a mess of flowers and leaves and yet it seems so fitting in the innocent and carefree demeanour of the child. Joel's laughter fills the air again and he laughs lightly as the child places the flower crown onto his head before adjusting it and thanking the child in the most warm and gentle way possible. His eyes slowly shift back in your direction and it is clear that his sole focus is on you, no doubt feeling the same pride and joy as he watches you work.

He hasn’t seen either of you happy in what feels like forever. 

He calls out to you and you turn around at the sound of your name, a smile instantly appearing on your face and you wave him over to join you. Joel seems to pick up on the sudden shift in vibes and his attention is drawn to the interaction as he calls out to his brother and gestures for him to join them as well. 

The man beside him requests that he give up his weapons and it fills him with fear and frustration. The idea of leaving himself vulnerable and unarmed in an unknown location is a terrifying one. He feels your presence behind him and this does nothing to ease his mind. He begins to argue with the man, arguing over the request of his weapons and the need to keep them on his person.

“It’s okay Tommy, we’re safe here.” 

“You sure about that Sunshine?” 

He turns his head to look behind him upon feeling your touch on his shoulder and his eyes widen as he sees the massive gash on your head. His hand reaches up and touches it with a sense of tenderness as he grips your hand in his own to avoid causing any further injury. He looks into your eyes and his concern is evident on his face as he stares at you, his worry for your well being written all over his expression.

“What happened to you?” 

You smile softly, trying your best to reassure him about your wellbeing before shrugging, as if the whole ordeal was not that big of a deal. “There was an explosion but I’m okay, really. Joel got me out and they stitched me up.” You try to downplay the significance of what has happened, as if it were nothing but a minor inconvenience.

"You left me again." His tone is filled with sadness and betrayal and his eyes are fixed on you as if searching for an explanation for your actions. 

You sigh, looking over at Joel as another child places their crown on his hair. You look back at Tommy and cross your arms over your chest. “I know. I’m sorry. Can we talk about this later?” 

Tommy closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh, his frustration apparent as he hands over his weapons to the man. He knows that he can't put up a fight right now and he reluctantly lets it go for the moment. He looks away from the man and focuses on you, his eyes still filled with the lingering sense of betrayal but he tries his best to hide it in his attempt to keep things peaceful.

“Yeah, sure.” 

You lead him over to Joel and you sit next to him again, your body sitting comfortably between the two brothers. 

He leans back on his hands and looks around at the farm, nodding in admiration at the place. “So this where you’ve been while I’ve been riskin’ my life to find you?” He smirks as he tilts his head to face you. 

“You didn’t have to follow me.”

“You and me, remember? Of course I’ll follow you.” 

“You said you weren’t going to do this anymore.” 

Tommy sighs. “You said you weren’t going to leave in the middle of the night again. Guess we both say things we don’t mean.”

Your hands stop as you pierce a stem, your eyes darting over to him as he wraps his hand around you and pulls you into a side hug. His smile is soft and comforting and your body leans against him, the warmth of your embrace a welcome feeling after the recent events the last few days. 

He watches over your head as your hand reaches out to your side, searching blindly for Joel's hand. When your hand touches his, he grasps it in his own and tries his best to thread the stem of the flower through with one hand now. The movement of his fingers is clumsy and not as elegant and smooth as with two hands. His brow is knitted with the intensity of his focus in trying to keep the flower crown intact and he doesn't seem to be succeeding.

“I’ll follow you too, by the way,” Joel adds, his voice barely above a whisper, he doesn’t look away from the flowers as he speaks. The soft and gentle tone of his voice combined with the simple yet caring gesture of still holding your hand and trying to complete the task despite the handicap of using only one hand is quite poetic and touching.

Though Tommy may find the interaction to be gross he can't help but feel a soft sense of admiration for his brother, seeing him showing this softer side. It's nice to see him not acting like an asshole but he would never admit to that.

Joel looks up and smiles proudly as he finally completes the crown, he places it on your head and you smile back at him fondly as he slowly adjusts it and pushes strands of hair out of your face.

Tommy looks at the two of you with a slight frown, his face displaying confusion as he watches the two of you interact with each other. He shakes off the feeling and lets his hand slip from your shoulder. 

"We were going to head off in the morning but we can pack up now if you want?" Joel asks Tommy, his hand dropping from your face as he casually brushes the dirt from his pants.

Tommy hums in agreeance.”Think that’s a good idea.” 

He pauses a moment before continuing, there are so many things he wants to discuss but he doesn't want to cause more worry for either of you. He's aware of the possibility that they may be being tracked and if he's being tracked that probably means that you are as well. He knows he should talk about this but he's not sure how to communicate this idea without sounding too paranoid or dramatic. Even so, they need to have this conversation and the longer he waits the more dangerous it could potentially become.

He’ll talk it through on the way back to Jackson, it’s a long trip after all. 

Yeah, he’ll talk to you about it then.

“Who got one of the horses killed, by the way?” Tommy raises his eyebrows at the two of you, the humour of his voice breaking some of the tension that's been building between the three of them. 

You look away from him instead of answering his question, avoiding eye contact with him. He seems to notice your reluctance and his eyes narrow, the curiosity of his gaze lingering as he waits for you to respond.

Joel's eyes are on you when you ooze guilt and a flash of relief passes over your face when he takes the blame for the horse. Your eyes shoot over to him, a look of relief and gratitude upon your face.

Tommy knows his brother is lying but he plays a long. “You’re getting sloppy, old man.” Tommy sighs dramatically, shaking his head. 

Joel grunts. 

There he is, that’s the brother Tommy knows. 

Chapter 15 - coming soon

Notes

writing in Tommy's POV is too much fun. I really like Tommy so it's fun to write from his perspective. Omg who is this mystery person? Saved you now an interaction with Tommy? hmmm!! There's something about Joel and flowers that's just so soft it hurts. I know this chapter is shorter than the others but i'm starting to not pressure myself about word count

tags: @ratoonstown @orcasoul @ashleyfilm @oscarissac2099 @nobodycanknoww @caitlynsixxx @gigistorm

Comment if you want to be added to the tag list!

[toomanyrobins2]

Christmas in Gotham

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

Notes: I'm finally getting around to updating this fic! If you would like to catch up and get more consistent updates to this story and others I would go to by AO3!

From the Home of the Gordon Family

31st December

Dear Batman,

I meant to write to you before and thank you for your Christmas cheque, but life in the Gordon household is very absorbing, and I don't seem able to find two consecutive minutes to spend at a desk.

I bought a new gown—one that I didn't need, but just wanted. My Christmas present this year is from Batman; my family just sent love.

I've been having the most beautiful vacation visiting Barbara. She lives in a big old-fashioned brick house with white trimmings set back from the street—exactly the kind of house that I used to look at so curiously when I was in the Bowery Home, and wonder what it could be like inside. I never expected to see with my own eyes—but here I am! Everything is so comfortable and restful and homelike; I walk from room to room and drink in the furnishings.

It is the most perfect house for children to be brought up in; with shadowy nooks for hide and seek, and open fireplaces for pop-corn, and an attic to romp in on rainy days and slippery banisters with a comfortable flat knob at the bottom, and a great big sunny kitchen, and a nice, fat, sunny cook who has lived in the family thirteen years and always saves out a piece of dough for the children to bake. Just the sight of such a house makes you want to be a child all over again.

And as for families! I never dreamed they could be so nice. Barbara has a father and mother and grandmother, and the sweetest three-year-old baby sister all over curls, and a medium-sized brother who always forgets to wipe his feet, and a big, good-looking brother named Jimmie, who is a junior at Princeton. 

Bruce's eyes scanned the words on the paper, his usually stoic expression revealing a flicker of surprise and something akin to dismay. He couldn't deny the unease that settled in his chest at the mention of this mysterious young man. The thought of Y/N, someone he had mentored and grown fond of, showing interest in someone else triggered an unexpected pang of discomfort.

A low groan escaped him as he set the letter down on the desk. The idea of Y/N having an interest in a man didn't sit well with him, stirring emotions he hadn't anticipated. He couldn't quite put his finger on why it bothered him so, but the realization that she might be drawn to someone outside their mentor-mentee relationship brought a sense of unrest.

Leaning back in his chair, Bruce ran a hand through his hair, contemplating how to react to Y/N's letter. He couldn't deny the connection they shared, and the notion of someone else vying for her attention created a subtle tension in the air. 

We have the jolliest times at the table— everybody laughs and jokes and talks at once, and we don't have to say grace beforehand. It's a relief not having to thank Somebody for every mouthful you eat. (I dare say I'm blasphemous; but you'd be, too, if you'd offered as much obligatory thanks as I have.)

Such a lot of “things we've done—I can't begin to tell you about them. Mr. Gordon is the Commissioner of Gotham and Christmas Eve he had a tree for the officers’ children. It was in the long packing room which was decorated with evergreens and holly. Jimmie Gordon was dressed as Santa Claus and Barbara and I helped him distribute the presents.

Dear me, Batman, but it was a funny sensation! I felt as benevolent as a Trustee of the John Grier home. I kissed one sweet, sticky little boy—but I don't think I patted any of them on the head!

And two days after Christmas, they gave a dance at their own house for ME. It was the first really true ball I ever attended—college doesn't count where we dance with girls. I had a new white evening gown (your Christmas present—many thanks) and long white gloves and white satin slippers. The only drawback to my perfect, utter, absolute happiness was the fact that Mrs. Lippett couldn't see me leading the cotillion with Jimmie Gordon. Tell her about it, please, the next time you visit the B. H.

Also, who should have been invited to this event but Mr. Bruce Wayne himself! Apparently he is friends with the Gordons and I had the opportunity to thank him again in person for the lovely chocolates. He introduced me to his friends and inquired about my education and recommended a book to me. In the most gentlemanly of actions, he sent the book to the Gordon home the next day with a note that I should keep the book and add it to my personal collection. He says that every respectable writer should have a collection of books and I find that I agree with him completely. I find myself dreaming of a day where i can live in a grand home and collect books to my heart’s content.

Yours ever,

Y/N Abbott

PS. Have you ever read Gulliver’s Travel? I wonder what you would think of such a fantastical novel!

PPS. Would you be terribly displeased, Bats, if I didn't turn out to be a Great Author after all, but just a Plain Girl?

[louwhose]

Forbid

For @zelinkcommunity's weekly prompt Forbid

No one had ever expressly forbid it.

But it was so obviously ludicrous an idea that no one needed to.

She was the princess. And he was her guard. 

When Zelda first met Link as her assigned guard for the day, she paused a moment longer than usual to take in the sight of him. He was far younger than most of her guards were, around the same age as her. There was more to appreciate in that youthful face than the wrinkles of the veterans whose care she was normally entrusted to. His long hair might be considered unscrupulous by some, but he managed it well and it suited him, and Zelda would be lying if she didn’t appreciate the sight of it almost as much as his vivid blue eyes.

And then she turned away and went about her day. Because it didn’t matter if she appreciated how he looked. He was her guard. And she was the princess.

That’s how things went for quite some time. Perfectly proper. Beyond a few mutually lingering looks, absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary.

And then they became friends.

There was nothing big that happened. It started out when Zelda had made a fascinating discovery that she just had to tell someone, and Link was the only one around. But then he listened, and prompted her with a few questions about it. And then a few days later, when they were alone, he cracked a joke about it, and she laughed.

And it continued, small comments or compliments or jokes, always when they were alone. Nothing scandalous, always proper in public, and nothing unheard of, even if it were a bit unusual.

But she never guessed how easy it would be to go from being friends to falling in love.

How much she loved his smile and wanted to do anything to see it again, to see those blue eyes wrinkle in amusement or simply because he was content, it didn’t matter which. The more she got to know him, the more insatiable she became to know it all. Wondering, perhaps hoping, that he felt the same.

Zelda kissed Link first. On the cheek, but it was still a bold move. Still completely inappropriate. Still something she knew that, if someone else had seen it, he would have been reassigned immediately.

Nothing happened at first. For a moment she was afraid that she had overstepped. Done more than was fine with their friendship.

But then Link caught her hand, and in a move that there was technically nothing improper about it but felt like there was absolutely everything improper about it, brought her hand to his mouth and placed a lingering, tender kiss there, eyes locked on hers the entire time.

That was answer enough. Zelda held onto his hand and he didn’t try to pull it away.

When they finally did kiss they were hidden away in a nook, with the taste of fruitcake stolen from the kitchen dancing on their tongues.

And so it continued. Stolen moments. Hands brushing against each other, laughing together, sharing dreams for a life they could never spend together.

It was almost too easy to hide. Or perhaps the court didn’t have the sharp eyes for spotting affaires that they thought they did.

They were never discovered, but it all came crashing down anyhow.

Zelda was a princess. She had a duty to carry on her royal line for her kingdom. And that royal line couldn’t be sired by a guard, no matter how much she may love him.

“What if we elope?” Link asked in a whisper, rubbing her arms consoling as she sobbed over the events of the day.

And oh, how she wanted to. “But I have a duty to my kingdom.”

“It doesn’t need to be forever,” he promised. “But… if we elope, and return with the next in line to the throne, can they really deny that?”

Knowing the court, they’d likely try to find a way, anyhow. But she certainly liked to entertain the notion.

“Besides, don’t you ever want to escape here and just live for a while?”

“With you? Always.”

And so she agreed to it. She wasn’t sure if she would ever actually come back, no matter how much she cared for the wellbeing of her subjects.

But as she held onto Link’s hand as he led her out of the castle, she thought that as long as she held onto his hand, it wasn’t so bad.

Perhaps it had been forbidden. But the forbidden fruit was tantalizing.

And she was glad that she had picked this one because it was oh so sweet.

[nyxlaufeyson]

Put to the Test (Pandora's Box)- Chapter 8

Main Masterlist - Pandora's Box Masterlist

A/N: Kinda basic chapter, we all probably saw it coming, but necessary and I think unique enough to be enjoyable.

The rainbow colors engulfed them once again, and Pandora arrived back on Midgard with a weight newly lifted off her shoulders. Loki and Thor stood next to her, and they landed on a grassy patch behind the tower.

Tony and several other Avenger’s were waiting there for them, and so the trio went up to them. Pandora received congratulations on her newfound freedom, and Tony insisted they all went inside for drinks. He was a bit wary that Loki was still there, since he was supposed to leave after they found Pandora, but Thor explained that he was there under official Asgardian orders. Plus, there was a case that required magic expertise. Despite the many rough patches in the relationship between Loki and the Avengers, they could use his help.

They made it to the common rooms, and Pandora took a seat next to Loki on a couch. Drinks were passed around, and she happily took one. Natasha was sitting nearby, and struck up conversation. “So, what are you going to do now?”

Pandora shrugged. “Not entirely sure. I suppose I shall just take things one step at a time. Although, I would like to get out of my current dingy apartment. Never liked the place, but it was convenient for the situation I was in.” 

At this, Tony made his way to a seat across from her. “I know a place, if you're interested.” He said, and the other people in the room seemed to suddenly be listening in to their conversation.

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Pray tell, where might this place be?”

Tony sent her a smirk. “Just in the heart of New York. Fast-running wifi and all the amenities you’ll ever need. All while running on a clean, self-sufficient energy source. Although, it does come with a job.”

Pandora caught on quickly, and she narrowed her eyes. “And what would this job entail?” She asked. At this point, most other conversations in the room had ceased, everyone focused on her and Tony. 

“You know, saving the world, superhero stuff, all that jazz.” Tony said, taking a confident swig of his drink. “It’s got a nice salary, you know, and plenty of benefits.”

She looked around the room, eyes flickering from Avenger to Avenger. Could this really be her life? Could she be one of them? “I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

Natasha laughed. “Impose? Please. You seem level-headed enough, and me and Wanda need help keeping these idiots in check.”

Tony threw his hands to his chest in mock offense. “Who are you calling an idiot?!” He exclaimed, before turning back to Pandora. “Seriously though, we already took a team vote. Well, except for Thor, because he wasn’t here. Thor?”

Thor gave her a grin. “You’ve got great potential. I would be honored to have you as a teammate.” 

That left one person who hadn’t had a say. Of course, Loki might not be viewed as a normal Avenger, but it still mattered to Pandora. She turned her glance to him, and he gave her a silent nod in confirmation.

“Well then, when do I start?” 

~~~~~

It took less than a week before Pandora felt more at home in the tower than she had in centuries. Wherever she had lived in the past, it was always with the notion that it was temporary. She never felt the need for any decorations or too much furniture, as it was going to be left behind anyway.

Even the few times she did try to decorate those places, they never were ‘home.’ It was just the place where she happened to sleep in. 

As she sat in her new room, on an extremely comfortable couch, she looked at everything she had done to it. When she first got the room, it was already pretty nice and furnished. But, they had given Pandora full creative control, so she used it to make things a bit more her style.

There was a bookshelf that she used to hold all her novels in one corner, with a little reading nook set up next to it. Blue accents were everywhere in the room, matching the shade of her hair. She had a desk set up as well, with a new Stark computer sitting on top. Beside it, the flowers her brother had gifted her in the vase that Loki had conjured. It was odd that they hadn’t wilted.

But it wasn’t the luxurious room that made the place feel homey, it was the people. Even if she hadn’t yet formed deep connections with her new teammates, she wasn’t in solitude. Everyone was friendly and she enjoyed their company. As much as she tried to be independent, and she was, she could not deny her need for companionship.

A knock sounded at her door, so she got up and opened it to find Loki. Out of everyone in the tower, Loki had to be her favorite. Not only had they hit it off on Asgard, but there was just something about him that made Pandora feel seen. After decades of hiding, she found herself desperately wanting to be seen.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back. “Are you ready?” He asked, and Pandora nodded. Today, she was set to be evaluated on her abilities. This would help them sort out what her strengths and weaknesses were, so that they could assign missions based on skill sets.

Even if she was confident in herself and her abilities, she was still nervous. Most, if not all, of the Avengers would be watching and assessing her. She might not know everyone on a deep and personal level yet, but she still yearned for their acceptance. What if they thought she wasn’t good enough?

Loki seemed to notice her inner turmoil. “Are you nervous?” He asked, and she gave him a sheepish smile. 

“A little.” Pandora admitted with a shrug. She knew that it wasn’t logical that they would be unimpressed, but she couldn’t help it. Not after being rejected once by the people she loved.

He patted her on the shoulder as they walked down the hall. “You shouldn’t be. Everyone save for me and Thor are human, yet you are not. That already gives you a jump on strength, stamina, and speed. When you filter in the magic, you exceed each and every person in this tower. Except for me, of course.”

Pandora laughed, and Loki chuckled. “Gods, you are so full of yourself!” She joked.

He shrugged with a smirk. “When you’re surrounded by idiots, it is often hard to not be.” His smirk softened. “But, really, only a few of us here have magic. Sure, Thor has lightning, but it’s not really magic. That’s just a singular trick. But me and you, even the red witch, we are the ones that can really do some damage.”

His words soothed her, and they made it to their destination. They had to split, since Loki needed to go up and behind the room to a viewing area, behind reinforced glass. He turned to her, looking her in the eyes. “Good luck. Not that you’ll need it” 

He gave her a genuine smile, and she nodded. “Thanks.” With that, he departed, and she stood in front of two large, heavy-looking doors.

With a deep breath, she opened them and walked in. The room was huge, and at least a few stories high. The walls were stark white with weird metal plates spaced out over them. In the corner of the room lay weaponry. She was told that the room was a simulation room, where technology was used to simulate different situations and scenarios. 

Somehow, the technology was advanced to the point where she would be able to feel some things, but she wouldn’t get seriously hurt. For example, she could feel and take punches, but a knife wouldn’t be able to puncture through her skin. 

On the very upper part of the front wall, was a dark glass window. Craning her neck upwards, she was able to make out Tony and the others. Loki was up there with them, and he sent her an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

After a moment, the speakers allowed her to hear them through the wall. “Alright, Princess Leia, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Pandora rolled her eyes. Tony, ever the nickname-giver, had taken to calling her Princess Leia. All because of her hair, that always seemed to be in space buns. They weren’t even the same style, since Pandora’s were braided at the top, but he didn’t care. Apparently, the hairstyle was enough of a similarity to gain her a semi-permanent nickname.

“We’re going to start with simple enough stuff,” Tony informed her, “Go ahead to that table in the corner and pick a close combat weapon.”

She looked over the table of sharp tools and weapons. Each of them had different pros and cons, good for different situations. “Do I get any information on what I’m going to be doing?”

If she squinted hard enough, she could make out Tony shaking his head. “Nope. You might not get that information about the field either. Sometimes, you gotta make do. All you know is that you will be in close proximity with the enemy.”

Pandora sighed, settling on a pair of daggers. A sword would be good for something large and singular, but daggers were easier to fight multiple beings at once. She just hoped she wouldn’t be asked to fight some sort of dragon. Daggers wouldn’t be of much help then.

When she turned back to the front wall with daggers in hand, the lights in the room changed their hue, and she saw holograms begin to form. “And one more thing,” she heard Tony say, “avoid using magic.”

With this, she frowned. “What?” She asked. “Why?”

“Never know when it won’t be accessible, plus we need to see your combat skills without any magical aid, now, stand in the middle on the black x” He said, and she nodded, moving to the center of the room where there was an ‘x’ taped.

Suddenly, the room turned blue as a graphical, intangible wall swept the room. No longer was she in a near-empty space, but instead in a grass field. Six people appeared in a circle around her, and she held her daggers at the ready. 

The first one lunged at her, so she kicked them in the stomach and turned around to meet her two more of them about to pounce. She took her daggers and stabbed each in the stomach, quickly pulling the weapons back out of the flesh before continuing to fight.

Fighting six individuals at once proved difficult, but not impossible. As long as she focused her attention on whoever was closest to landing a blow, taking them out, and moving on, she was fine. After going back around to all six, making sure they were out for good, the bodies of the enemies disappeared. 

A television–sized hologram screen popped up in front of her, and she read her statistics. Five minutes and thirty-two seconds, six enemies down, and, most importantly when on the real battlefield, no fatal wounds received.

The grassland disappeared, and the old room came back. “Good job,” Tony’s voice projected from the viewing room, “hold onto those daggers, that was just a warm-up. Now we’re going to send you to a city that is actively being destroyed. Your goal is to eliminate as many of the enemies as possible, while helping to get civilians to safety. There is a building with a horse statue outside, that’s where you want to get all the civilians.”

Pandora nodded. “And how do I differentiate the enemy from the public?” She asked, although she figured the enemy might not be visibly different. 

“Well, if they’re shooting at you, I would say it’s safe to assume that they’re the bad guy.” Tony said, and Pandora rolled her eyes at the obvious. “This simulation will be longer than the first, since it is the major team situation that we must be prepared for. Try not to kill any civilians.”

A table appeared in front of her, with different guns and weapons. “Grab whatever you need for this, and don’t worry about the bullets ricocheting off the walls. There are no real bullets in them, although you’ll feel the recoil. Oh, and for this you can use your magic.”

She was glad to be able to use her magic, it always boosted her confidence in her performance, even if she could kick ass without them. Stepping up to the table, she grabbed a simple handgun and created a magic holster to hold it. She held onto one of the daggers, putting the other away so she could use her fingers to work her magic without interference. 

The room around her faded away, and it was replaced with what appeared to be a copy of a half-destroyed San Francisco. Pandora had actually lived in San Francisco for a few months, but it was too hot for her liking.

She surveyed her surroundings for a moment before she heard footsteps in her direction. She hid behind a broken wall, peeking out to see a man in a black mask with a gun. Right behind him was a small child and their mother, attempting to hide. Pandora wanted to go ahead and strike the man, but she had to confirm that he was the enemy and not some random civilian who happened to be wearing a mask. He did have a gun, but it also was an extreme situation. It was America, like it or not, lots of people had guns and would probably use them at the end of the world.

The child with the woman made a sound, and the man turned around and pointed the gun at them. That was all the reason Pandora needed before tackling the man to the ground and disarming him. She used magic to knock him out, not wanting to scare the child. It might be a fake child, but it made her feel better. She had scared enough people as it was. 

“Follow me.” She said to them, although she was unsure where the building she needed to get them too was. Picking a direction, she tracked her way through the rubble, stopping every now and then to take down an enemy that decided to pop up. 

Unfortunately, one caught her by surprise and managed to knock her to the ground. Before he could do anything, though, she flicked her fingers and his neck snapped. It wasn’t messy, the only evidence was a loud pop. 

She got up and found a few stragglers here and there, and soon enough she was leading a group of around ten. Because it was just her luck, she heard a cluster of voices just around the corner. She rushed the people into a nearby building, telling them to stay put for a moment.

There was a group of five outside, and not all of them were human. In fact, one looked like an octopus. But now wasn’t the time for pictures, so she grabbed her gun and quickly shot two in the head before ducking behind a car. 

As the two she shot fell to the ground, gunshots and yells were thrown her way. Working under the assumption that the two she shot were already incapacitated, she moved to the right of the car and threw a piece of trash she had grabbed to the left. 

The three remaining foes went towards the sound, giving her the opportunity to shoot two more in the back of the head. The last man managed to turn around in time to fire out a round at her, so she had to roll and hide again. While she did this, she dropped her gun, so she opted for magic instead. 

She didn’t see the man fall through the hole she created in the ground, but she could hear him scream as he reappeared a hundred feet in the sky and plummeted to the ground. Satisfied, she went back to where the civilians were and got them out. In the distance, she saw the designated safe building with the horse statute, and managed to get everyone in without incident. 

This went on for a while: locating civilians, eliminating any threat, and getting said civilians to safety. She was pretty confident she did fine. It wasn’t exactly hard, and she even found herself having some fun. Maybe joining the Avengers would be something that proved to be a good thing. 

Eventually the room faded back to normal and her statistics showed up in front of her. 

She had spent  twenty-eight minutes in the simulation, eliminated 26 enemies, and gotten all of the civilians to safety without receiving fatal wounds.

“Good going Leia.” Tony said while she could hear a little clapping from the room around him. “That was the main portion of the test. But, there’s one last thing for us to test.”

Steve turned to Tony. “There’s only two parts. What are you planning on doing?” 

Tony ignored the captain, continuing to speak to Pandora while pressing buttons on his screen. “Use whatever weapons you need, and your magic. You’ll be needing it.”

And with that, Pandora was sent into a sandy desert. There was nothing around her, and all she could see was sand and a blue-gray sky. She even felt the wind, blowing small specks of sand on her. 

At first she didn’t see anyone, but as she looked closer, she spotted a herd of people charging towards her. Enough of a crowd that it wasn’t feasible for anyone to fend them off alone. “Seriously?” She called, although she wasn’t sure who she was talking to. The window enclosing the team was invisible to her.

Unbeknownst to her, Steve was shaking his head in the viewing room. “Seriously? Tony, you pull this shit on all the new recruits. I’d like to see you try to hold your own in there.”

Tony grinned with a shrug. “What? It’s not like they can really hurt her. I like to see who can beat the latest record of how many of them someone can take down before they receive a simulated fatal wound.”

Natasha shook her head. “This is why people don’t like you, Tony.” 

He put his hand to his chest in offense. “What do you mean? Everyone likes me, Natalia.” Natasha rolled her eyes and Tony chuckled. 

“Anyways, as I was saying before Natasha insinuated that people don’t like me, Witch Wanda over there,” he pointed to Wanda, “holds the high score of a hundred and twelve. Which is slightly scary.” 

Wanda smiled. “I’m flattered you’re scared of me, Stark.” 

Back in the simulation room, Pandora was trying to come up with a plan. Logically, she knew that the team couldn’t expect her to defeat this big of a mob alone. However, she was determined to not go out without a fight. 

As the hoard got closer, she saw that not all of them were of the same species. Of course they weren’t, because that would mean they have the same strengths and weaknesses. Pandora called on the ancient lines of magic she pulled on, holding them at the ready.

She hadn’t expended a lot of her magic on the first two tests, which was good, because she definitely needed it now. As the first line of the crowd neared her, she sent out a blast to knock them down. They were not indisposed of, but it was enough to gouge just how much magic she needed to spend to push them around. 

With a quiet reminder that none of this was real, she charged into the fight. In doing so, she held out her hand to the eyes of some of the crowd, altering their vision so they would now see some of their allies as their enemy. 

She could have just disguised herself as them, but this way they took themselves out faster. Pandora had magical weapons that she switched out time to time, slashing, stabbing, and blasting her enemies. 

But, even with confusion amongst the crowd, she was still outnumbered. She pushed through, picking up men and slamming them around to take out the others. She lost count of how many had fallen by her hand, the only thought in her mind to do better, to take out more.

Eventually though, she slipped up and ended up with a fake dagger in her skull, sending her back into the simulation. She was out of breath, panting, her face frustrated. 

Even if she had lasted 22 minutes, killed 154 enemies, and only ended up with one major injury, she still felt like she could have done better. She was unaware of the dropped jaws of everyone behind the reinforced glass of the observation room, unaware of the new record she had just set.

“I could have done better.” She whispered, but pushed the thought aside. She already had plans in the future to come back to this room and achieve a higher kill count. 

For a long few minutes, nobody said anything down to Pandora. It wasn’t until she looked up at them, expectantly, that someone said something.

“Uh, that was incredible. You should see the look on the guys’ faces right now.” Wanda said, laughing. 

Tony cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah. Anyways, good work today. None of the opponents were real, but the sweat is. Go get a shower, I don’t want you sweating on the expensive furniture.”

Pandora laughed, and bid a goodbye to her new teammates before she exited the room. To her surprise, Loki was there to greet her. 

“That was amazing.” He said, eyes twinkling. “ You were amazing.”

Pandora turned a little red, rubbing her neck. “Thanks. You don’t have to exaggerate though. I want to know if I actually did well in the eyes of other people.”

Loki looked shocked. “Are you kidding? You beat the other witch’s record of kills in that last simulation. You did better than even I might have done, and that’s saying a lot, of course.”

She laughed. “Thanks, mischief, I appreciate it.” He began to walk her back to her room, complimenting her magic usage and her skills with daggers.

They made it to her room, and Loki said goodbye. She closed the door and let the weight that she wasn’t good enough fall from her shoulders. Pandora knew that she belonged there. Loki knew that she belonged there. The team knew that she belonged there. The voices telling her otherwise stopped at that moment, she told herself.

To wash them away, she got into the shower, and allowed herself to cry. To cry for the things she had been through, to cry for the child she once was, and to cry for the newfound sense of belonging that she now felt.

TAG LIST (If you want to be added or removed, comment or inbox. If you want to only be tagged for this series/or just oneshots, etc... make sure to let me know. Make sure your tag settings are on.)- @anukulee @mischief-dream @iceeericeee

[titanicfreija]

Not What You Think

"We saw you talking to Empress Caiatl?" This One said, flashing his crucible counter shell.

"Didn't she order your Guardian to shoot you?" Harmony pressed. Her triangular shell wore the House of Meyrin colors badly.

Sunny hardly got to settle into her nook before her friends accosted her, but she patiently pushed her way in. "She did. But I didn't know that the first time I talked to her, and she told me upfront both that she did it, and that she didn't know what she was doing when she did it."

This One's eye flickered as Harmony bounced and flashed her petals. "That doesn't matter! She shouldn't tell anyone to shoot anyone in the back!"

"First, she didn't know I was "anyone". At best, she thought I was a thing. Second, it was the only way anyone could see to stop the link. Even Freija didn't see an alternative. Third, she was sorry as soon as she realized I was a person. She even said the word "destroy" instead of 'kill', she really thought I was just a conduit."

"We are conduits," argued Harmony, "and that shouldn't matter!"

"One Guardian's Light for the entire solar system makes perfect sense when you're not the one holding the gun at your own Ghost," This One replied. "From her end, it makes sense. From ours..."

Sunny bobbed shortly in agreement. "Pretty much. So she told me, and then she said that she thought Guardians were all using us, and that we knew that, but I acted betrayed. So I offered to talk to her, let her ask questions about us, and after a while, Zwe made friends."

Harmony and This One both froze at her and she rolled her petals impatiently. "We share a sense of humor and she likes having someone to just chat with, I like explaining stuff and she likes the information. It's not even weird!"

"She did order your Guardian to shoot you in the back, though," repeated This One.

Sunny rolled her petals faster. "She's said sorry. And I mean a real apology, a, 'here's what I did wrong and here's what I should have done and I'm sorry' sorry, to both me and Freija. She didn't know and she learned. Now she knows. It's okay. Plus I've had fun answering the questions."

"What's she asked?" Harmony inquired.

"Oh, things like... Were we all made at the same time, do we feel pain or feel our Guardians' pain. Where do names come from, what's up with the dancing, fireteam composition. I tried to explain the classes but I think Freija did a better job of giving her an idea what it really means to the--'

"You let your Guardian talk casually with Empress Caiatl?" This One interjected. "I was with you until now."

"The questions started as more like interviews, and she extended that to Freija because she was trying to figure out what the connection between Guardian and Ghost was."

"... What?"

This One and Harmony looked between each other and Harmony twisted in a negative. "Like.... How are a Guardian and a Ghost a Guardian and a Ghost?" asked Harmony.

"Pretty much," Sunny confirmed, wheeling slowly. "It started with my offer, but the first thing she wanted to know was why Freija let the world end before killing me."

"Because she's your Guardian?" said Harmony before she said, "Ohh. Okay. She didn't know that they love us?"

"It's not just love," Sunny said, wondering what the other two would say.

"Huh?" Harmony wheeled but This One tick-tocked thoughtfully.

"That's not the only reason," Sunny insisted. "It's not just love."

"What, that stopped your Guardian?" Harmony wheeled again. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Freija, when she told Empress Caiatl about it, talked about a whole other dimension to the connection that isn't love." Sunny's petals rocked as she watched her friends take it in.

This One seemed comfortable with the notion. "Makes sense. The thing that calls us to them before we meet them isn't really love."

"What?" demanded Harmony.

"I think it is, too," Sunny told her. "Freija said she didn't love me until she had been Risen a few months, around Dawning."

"Marco wouldn't admit he loved me under threat of torture," This One snorted. "He does, but he'd only admit it once I died."

"Kelly and I love each other," Harmony stated simply.

"Freija and I love each other, Freija's even louder about it than I am, but it still had to grow, she said, even if we were bonded from her first Rising. Oh! Caiatl asked her what her first memory was! Apparently it took a few seconds for her awareness to kick in."

"You're not gonna distract us, now. What did Freija say it was?" insisted Harmony. "If it's not love?"

Sunny drooped in the air and sighed. "She gets... Poetic when she's passionate, so don't mind the ideas too strictly, but she said it's Life itself. She also says that part of herself is me, and a bunch of other stuff. I think she mixes me up with her Light."

"We're conduits," repeated Harmony. "She's not wrong about that, but I never heard anyone call it so close before."

"Freija's weird," Sunny mumbled. "Caiatl likes it, but I take it too literally so it's strange to me."

"I feel like Marco's life," said This One. "Like a little portable storage unit for it, where it goes when it's not in him."

"I considered it memories," Harmony replied. "But I guess a life could be said to be memories. I don't know, I never felt so much part of Kelly like that as I did a partner. I've heard the whole, two parts of one, but I don't believe it."

"We're individuals with a symbiotic relationship," This One said. "A necessarily complementary pair. Not in for the whole, Destined One Guardian stuff, but we're Conduits for our Lightbearer, who is dead without us to feed the spark."

"I don't believe that, either," Harmony continued. "Conduits, yes. Part of a whole? Only in that we were once the Traveler. Supposedly."

"I didn't think so, but Caiatl pointed it out for us without having heard the theory," Sunny grumbled. "I told Rex. He was very proud of himself."

"Ugh," sighed Harmony. "He's just fixated because him and his are messed up."

"A little," agreed Sunny. "They're doing better with strand, but poor Thomas still wishes he was a Titan."

"That poor guy," Harmony murmured as This One snickered. "It's not funny."

"Only because of how it's going. I can't help it being funny that a Warlock wants to be a Titan. You'd think it was funny if a Titan wanted to be a Warlock."

"I wouldn't," Harmony snipped. "It's pitiful!"

This One spun to look skyward. "Anyway-- we're off topic. You made friends with Empress Caiatl?"

"Yes," huffed Sunny. "But I wanted to know more about what you guys thought of the connection between Guardian and Ghost. If it's not love, what is it?"

This One tick-tocked, then wheeled. "No idea. But I've seen too many cases where it wasn't love to say it is."

"Freija said that, too!" cried Sunny. "You think they really don't love their Guardians?"

This One wagged. "I didn't say that. But I know there's Guardians that don't love their Ghosts. And I'm still pretty sure that none of them could kill theirs either."

The three looked between each other and Sunny wheeled awkwardly. "What's the weirdest question she's asked?" asked This One.

"Ohh... Let's see.... Lots of questions about the classes, but my favorite bit was when I told her about Warlocks, she asked if Eris was one."

Harmony snickered. "What did you say?"

"Oh, I described the normal bookish and scholarly, then I added the habit of the real strong ones to warp reality and bend time and undo themselves and the like," Sunny hummed, wondering if Harmony was going to take offense.

"That's fair, I even know who you're talking about," sighed Harmony. "In each case. As long as you made it clear that they're outliers."

"Yes. I made sure that she understood the typical Warlock is an able Light-user with an innate need to plan ahead at least a little. She knows Titans and likes them in general. Crow didn't do Hunters any favors."

This One snickered and Harmony slapped him with a flap. "That event killed a decent person," she snipped. "It's not funny."

This One rolled his flaps and sidled away from Harmony. "Anyway. How's Kelly?"

"Kelly has been looking for more hidden records in Neomuna," Harmony said. "The whole thing with the conductor and the chorus and plugging everyone into the same network, with the Veil guiding them... It's been bugging us that the parallels with the Vex are so strong, the way they work. And the Witness did the same thing, shed its individuals to become a single united Thing, as guided by the Darkness. I'm wondering if the Veil isn't doing it on purpose."

"Huh?"

"It's complicated. You should hear Kelly when she gets going. I'm worried she's going to come up with something terrifying and clever and get us killed."

"What's the theory?" Sunny pressed.

"The Veil is just as conscious and alive as the Traveler, to begin with," Harmony said. "It speaks in the whispers the Guardians hear, in those weird cold feelings in our cores. Kelly isn't sure when it got here, but it's been on the move almost as long as the Traveler was. With two civilizations touched by the Traveler becoming a united person composed of the many, and the Veil leading one of them straight to it, she suspects that the Vex are what remains of a people that also knew the Traveler. With that presumption, it's possible that the Traveler has been trying to rebuild a Veil to substitute for that one."

This One and Sunny flickered at Harmony, hovering silent and still in the nook.

"See, and I thought Freija was strange because she's hyperbolic," Sunny mumbled.

"Why can't they unite?" asked This One. "Why make a copy?"

"I don't know, all that's Kelly's theory. If you asked me, looking at the information she's presenting, I say the Traveler builds peoples to a point they can copy the Veil and unite like that, and the Witness has been in the way for at least two."

"The Eliksni and the Krill," agreed This One. "We'll see. I'm not eager to find out." He turned to look over the empty nighttime courtyard of the Tower.

"It'll be okay," Harmony offered.

Sunny's silence hung heavy, and This One turned to look at her, easing his flaps. "It's not your fault."

"It feels like my fault," she murmured. "And it feels like Freija's fault."

Harmony stretched uncomfortably. "Look, that trap was well-laid. They knew whoever got down there would beat Calus, they knew the Ghost would be vulnerable."

"Oh, you think Calus was played up to die?" This One asked.

"He's hardly even dead, his consciousness is probably still in the Egragore," Sunny grumbled. "I just... Ugh. I don't know. We've been okay. She's been better. I'm okay."

"If it wasn't you, it would have been someone else," This One said. "Been managing power supply to that building for ages. Someone would have been taken over by now."

Sunny wheeled anxiously and rolled. "I know. It's okay. I just feel like crap, I'll get through it. I'm going to go check on Freija."

Sunny dematted hastily, leaving This One looking over the courtyard and Harmony looking at his back.

This One turned back to Harmony, making sure he kept far enough back to dodge a lunge. "That is kinda creepy, the Neomuni and the Vex Network parallels. Marco won't be interested, but I'd like a lesson anyway."

Harmony bobbed and spun. "I'll transfer the data and we can go over it together."

~

@annieruok94

[paintedscales]

a03 :: Markets

Newly released from the infirmary, Nomin gets an unexpected visitor and takes a trip to the markets of Sharlayan.

A Soft™ Fic Prompt Meme

I may have gotten a bit carried away with where everything was going.

Word Count: 2,845

In the days that Nomin rested and recovered at the infirmary, she learned that Estinien brought her some gifts in the bag he had brought with him during his first visit. Nothing new, though appreciated all the same. Things he knew Nomin cherished, just to have them while she was confined to staying there.

Her shagai and her copper pendant were two of those items. Estinien knew of the copper pendant -- what significance it held for her. Though he bided his curiosity on the bone dice in the blood red leather pouch.

Estinien’s nightly visits became common over the rest of the days Nomin was required to recover. Though he had his own room and board, he often simply found respite in sitting at the bedside and laying his head on Nomin’s lap while she read or sketched. Sometimes he would listen to her read some of her stories aloud, finding himself lost in her voice as he allowed the words to create imagery in his mind’s eye. Sometimes he would simply doze as Nomin ran her fingers through his hair.

Eventually came the day that Nomin was finally granted leave of the infirmary, and the first person that greeted her was G’raha. His ears perked with joy upon seeing her, and a relieved expression bloomed on his face as he rushed in to give Nomin a big, long hug. All the while, his head rested at the nook of her neck and collar while a smile grew upon his lips.

Of course Nomin reciprocated, enjoying the feeling of having one of her friends there.

Warm.

Welcome.

… Tangible…

Most importantly: real.

“My friend…” G’raha sounded as if he were holding back tears. It was near enough to make tears start stinging Nomin’s own eyes once again that week.

He, along with a handful of others, had not visited the infirmary while they took care of other matters in Sharlayan after the Ragnarok had returned. As Nomin had heard it, a number of chirurgeons had come and retrieved her from the craft on a stretcher after she succumbed to unconsciousness once again. They, and the other Scions at the time, were eager to get her proper care.

Estinien and the twins had really been the only three that had been the most available. Estinein, of course, had the least to contribute to Sharlayan’s research and findings overall. As for the twins, their father often found himself coddling them -- a notion that Nomin could only imagine after having been present for Alisaie’s griping about it. Evidently, this all afforded them the most amount of time to check in on Nomin over the others. Often, Nomin had been the audience to Alphinaud’s sulking over his lack of involvement at times.

“‘Tis so good to see you hale and whole,” G’raha said, a small shake to his voice. He let go of Nomin and composed himself. His smile was infectious, and Nomin returned it warmly.

"And it is so very good to see you, Raha," Nomin replied in kind as she adjusted the satchel that rested on her shoulder and then rubbed her eyes. "I hadn't been expecting you -- nor anyone, really. But I'm glad all the same."

"I've been helping Krile organize and take care of the Annex. Biting my nails all the while as we only heard updates from the chirurgeons, twins, and one time from Estinien.” G’raha replied, immediately breaking into a tangent. “'Well,' they often told us; 'she's been recovering well.' Alisaie was always quite spirited when she spoke of your recovery; surely she's eager for a chance for any moment of her brand of sport against you. Alphinaud also tells us you've been painting again."

"Mhm," Nomin affirmed. "It was something to do -- a comfort to fall back on."

However, Nomin found herself curious as to Estinien’s take or reports. If he made any at all.

"... Has…Estinien said anything?" Nomin questioned, bringing a hand to the strap of her satchel and starting to walk toward the exit of the building. G'raha followed close behind, soon falling into step next to her as he caught up.

“Hm?” G’raha’s ears twitched forward with consideration as he held his chin between his thumb and index finger. “He never said much. If you want something he said verbatim… ‘She yet draws breath. Let that be enough as she rests.’ Other than that, he never gave the impression he visited often.”

G’raha’s words did not surprise Nomin. Of course Estinien would likely keep to himself, or he simply made himself scarce overall.

A smile tugged at the corner of Nomin��s lips as she pulled the door open and stepped out into the sunlight with G’raha alongside her. Her smile widened as she took in fresh, crisp air before tightening her coat around her to contend with Sharlayan’s natural chill.

Being out of that stuffy infirmary was so freeing!

“Well, my friend…” G’raha started, not taking the same amount of time to appreciate the fresh air as Nomin. “Have any ideas in mind for what you’d like to do first? We still have a good fortnight or so before the ship is ready to take us back to Eorzea proper.”

“You know… I don’t think I ever got to visit the markets Sharlayan has to offer,” Nomin mentioned, thinking about it. She looked over her shoulder and gave G’raha that same warm smile. “Alphinaud must have gotten his start somewhere when it came to art growing up here. I’d love to browse the wares the markets have when it comes to sketch journals, paints, brushes, and other such items. I feel like I’ll have much more time in the coming days to focus on committing vistas to paper, hide, or canvas.”

“Then let us be about it!” G’raha eagerly replied, his tail flicking upward along with his ears.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were some slight aches and sores that came back to haunt Nomin even before she made it to the markets with G’raha, but she powered through them. They were nothing compared to some old instances, after all. At least, that was what she attempted to convince herself of.

With her leave from the infirmary, Nomin intended to make the most of it -- and so she did as she poured over the wares on display. Books, trinkets, garments, salves, and tools -- all that and more had been on display.

G'raha found a prank glamour prism on display while Nomin perused, applying it to himself in that brief moment. A mustache of neon green sprouted underneath his nose, and his eyebrows became bushy caterpillars of the same hue. Nomin could not help but to laugh once she looked over at him. With a laugh of his own, G'raha puffed out his chest and placed his hands on his hips, showing off his new look.

Nomin, on the other hand, once she went back to looking around, found a rather gaudy shawl and draped it over herself with a flourish and a twirl. The metallic threads glittered in the sunlight, sparkling in a dazzling array of silver. As they continued, Nomin had been prone to goofing off with G'raha.

So long as they were able to have fun and laugh about it, it seemed to have been shaping up into a day well spent. Especially after being cleared from the infirmary.

Eventually, they finally made it to a stall that carried art supplies. Blank canvases of all sizes were kept safe under shade and cloth protection. Paints of many different hues lined the wooden shelves. Moleskin and leather sketch journals were stacked upon one another, their blank pages begging for creative release. Their brush sets were…

"... There…there aren't any brushes?" Nomin could not hide the dejection in her voice as she looked about the shelves. Her brow knitted together with a hint of disappointment. Even G'raha's ears drooped a bit when he heard her tone.

"'Fraid not, lass," the stall owner said. "Sold our only set around noon."

“I…see…” Nomin frowned and looked back at the other goods offered for sale. She lingered on some paints and eventually chose some colors that she had yet to experiment with, and then took up a leather bound sketch journal. She paid for them and got them situated in her satchel before she and G’raha took to leaving the markets.

“Surely they’ll have a new set before we leave for Limsa Lominsa,” G’raha said, doing his best to be optimistic for Nomin’s sake. He forced a sheepish smile, and a hand was brought to rest upon the auri’s shoulder.

“Perhaps. I never got an opportunity to see what Sharlayan had to offer for painters… What with all our own and the star’s concerns taking precedence,” Nomin replied. She managed a ghost of a smile in G’raha’s direction before she started to walk toward the Annex. “But…I’m glad I got to see and even purchase something. Besides, I probably have enough brushes as it is. You know, some of them haven’t even seen use yet?”

It was clear Nomin was attempting to remain optimistic.

The walk continued on like that. G’raha let Nomin speak, only asking a couple questions every now and then about her art, her hobbies, and things of the like. She was happy to speak at length about painting -- how she got into it, how it was always there as a source of comfort and joy in her youth. All things that G’raha had not really known about till then. They had little time to speak of such things in the past, as it turned out.

Plus…it had been a nice distraction from the disappointing lack of brushes that could be purchased.

In time, Nomin and G’raha made it to the Annex where they parted ways. G’raha spoke of how he probably should have returned to Krile’s side to help with more organization and documentation.

While it seemed to Nomin that it felt like something was being left unsaid, she decided not to question it as she walked the familiar path to the room that had been lent to her during her stay there in Old Sharlayan. She listened to the click of her boots echo in the marbled halls before she finally paused in front of the all too familiar door.

Raising a hand, Nomin hesitated. She was not quite sure why, either.

A deep breath was taken and Nomin’s hand found purchase on the handle, pushing it open. The familiar sight of the room greeted her. But so did the unfamiliar sight of banners, flowers, and presents.

Her free hand went to her mouth, a swelling in her heart as it did. For Nomin could not believe the sight. The unfamiliarity yet sincerity of it caused a welling of aching warmth to overwhelm her as yet another barrage of tears spilled from her eyes. She walked forward, hand slipping from the door and allowing it to silently swing shut behind her.

Welcome back, Nomin!

Feel better soon!

The Grand Companies of Eorzea pray for your good health.

Slowly walking toward one of the chairs, Nomin slumped in it as she did what she could to process her feelings.

It was no hero’s welcome in the sense that she experienced before with raucous applause and whooping… Still, it allowed her to pour her emotions completely without the audience of anyone else but herself.

Reaching over for one of the cards, Nomin looked at it. A crude drawing of a little miqo’te child was on it with their hands in the air -- presumably cheering for Nomin, who was drawn next to them. What struck her more was that the child who made this did not draw Nomin’s horns or tail as black, but blue.

Opening the card, Nomin read the messy scrawl: Thank you foR saving the staR. MaMa n papa thank you too. I’M gonna be a big sisteR soon, n i’M hapy I’ll git to see my new sisteR oR bRotheR.

Nomin brought her hand to her heart, a smile growing on her face as she choked out a relieved and touched laugh.

“By night’s good graces…” Nomin breathed, moving her hand from her heart to covering her eyes as she leaned back in the chair. Seeing the card really put things into perspective at the gravity of what she and the other Scions accomplished. Now that she had the time and air to breathe, she could actually process everything. All the decisions and actions that culminated to this point.

Moments passed, and Nomin still clutched the card. She had no idea how long it had been, but she had dried her tears with that time. The lingering burn was still there. She took the time to feel everything until a rapping came at the door.

Sniffling and wiping her eyes once again for good measure, Nomin placed the card down and approached the door. She was surprised her Echo had not alerted her to the presence of others. When she opened the door, the welcome sight of Alisaie, Alphinaud, and Estinien greeted her.

“You’re actually here!” Alisaie exclaimed, grinning as she elbowed Alphinaud in the ribs. “I told you she would be.”

“So you did,” Alphinaud defeatedly admitted with a sigh, rubbing where his sister struck him. However, as defeated as his tone was, he looked back up at Nomin with a smile both upon his lips and evident in his eyes. Estinien’s own expression had warmed, his mouth curling into a gentle smile once he saw Nomin out of her infirmary garb and more in her usual attire.

“Are you amenable to visitors at this time?” Estinien asked.

Nomin chuckled silently, opening the door wider for the trio of elezen to enter in. “Of course. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Not that you would need my permission for that last part.”

“The last time I was here, we were all having a meal together,” Alisaie said as she breezed past, walking over toward the pile of presents that had been set upon the table. She picked up one of the smaller parcels, glancing over it before turning an amused look in Nomin’s direction. “It’s a good thing we had no intention of eating in since it seems our dear hero has quite the load to bear with all these presents and well wishes.”

“Speaking of which… We have something for you!” Alphinaud announced, looking rather pleased with himself. It seemed evident beyond words that whatever they had for Nomin, it was his idea or suggestion. Alphinaud then looked toward Estinien and motioned toward Nomin; “Estinien, if you would, please?”

The former Azure Dragoon shrugged with a sigh, unable to mask the slight smile on his face while he approached. It was only then that Nomin noticed the paper-wrapped gift tucked under his arm. He set it down on the table before Nomin and lingered. All three of them seemed to have been waiting for Nomin to tear into it to see what they had gotten her.

Tentatively, Nomin reached out, glancing between everyone before she finally started peeling back the layers of paper.

The iconic sigil of the Sharlayan shell was the first thing she noticed; its emerald visage striking upon the wooden box. The second was the polished horse chestnut’s golden hue with its darker mottling; a wooden case. For a time, Nomin found herself just admiring the color and sheen of the box.

“Well don’t just stare at it! Open it up already!” Alisaie excitedly urged, placing her hands on the table and leaning forward.

Nodding, Nomin unclasped the box and opened it. The sight within made her gasp and drop the top of the case back on itself with a sharp snap! She clutched her hands to her mouth to stifle her surprised gasp. Once she collected herself as swiftly as she could, she opened the box again. Nomin pushed the top wider so that everyone could behold the contents: a collection of twelve paintbrushes neatly packed within, their hardwood handles painted that emerald green of Sharlayan, copper ferrules tightly hugging cream colored bristles to the handles securely.

“You…you were the ones that bought the last set at the markets?” Nomin asked, still gawping at the brushes.

“We’d all gotten word that you were to be released today,” Alphinaud responded, taking a seat opposite of Nomin. “Given that you expressed an interest in collecting paintbrushes when we were in Ishgard, I thought it a meaningful gift if we were to pick you up a set of Sharlayan make.”

Alphinaud paused.

“You…do like it, yes?” Alphinaud questioned with some hint of uncertainty.

“O-Of course I do!” Nomin exclaimed, standing suddenly and looking up at everyone with an expression tinged with a sense of worry. Slowly, she leaned back in her seat, a hand raising so that she might caress the painted, polished wood of one of the brush’s handles. “This…this is genuinely one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve received in a long time.”

Expression softening, Nomin smiled warmly and genuinely.

“Thank you all for this. I love it.”

[kyndaris]

Forever Growing

Change is never easy. It’s slow and inevitable and terrifying. When I was growing up, I vowed to myself that I would never change. Too long I’d seen old friends become absolute strangers and I thought stemming that tide would be for the best. After all, why would I ever want to stop being the me that I was? A person that liked to occupy the most secretive nook in the corner and read with book in hand? A person that had the most vivid of imaginations that being the only child wasn’t as lonely a burden as my mother thought it was?

But life isn’t so easy as wishing quietly to yourself that you will never change and hoping that will forever remain the case.

When my stint in tertiary education ended, I found myself with far too much time and freedom. The price for not having the routine of attending classes and lectures and hanging out with friends meant that I also had responsibilities. After all, my mother and grandmother can’t keep supporting me until the end of time. Nor would they be willing to fund what they saw as my ‘gaming’ addiction.

I needed a job.

For that, I needed to change. Perhaps not as drastically as I thought ‘changes’ meant but it meant stepping out of my comfort zone and ‘growing up.’ I’ve ranted a few times on my blog that in the workplace, I’ve become the ‘reliable’ one. The one people go to when they have questions about hard complex functions because my high school education at a selective high school meant that I am also a repository of knowledge.

In order to become the ‘reliable’ one, though, I had to demonstrate a side of myself that hasn’t always been prevalent in my previous incarnations throughout high school. The hard worker. The person that keeps their nose to the grindstone and barely takes a few days off.

But even that was no easy feat. 

My career has had its ups and downs. My first real job was something I kind of fell into when my mother saw me lounging around the house after I’d wrapped up my final uni course and was waiting for the graduation ceremony where I’d be given the degree I’d worked so hard for. 

Funny now how it sits uselessly on my desk, untouched and essentially useless in the grand scheme of things.

While I showed that I was no slouch in the workplace, the work there was dragging at my soul. There were months when I dreaded going into work. Even though I had vowed for no change in my life back in my younger years, I knew that if something didn’t change in my current predicament, I would do something drastic.

Perhaps I hadn’t yet adjusted to the idea of full-time work. Or maybe the work I was doing simply wasn’t for me.

It took courage for me to finally tell my mother that I couldn’t continue like this and tender my resignation letter before going on the hunt for a new job that I wanted to do and would look past my relatively sparse history of employment as I’d never taken up anything during my years in high school or at university.

But change isn’t always about better job prospects (though my recent internal promotion is something that is both exciting and nervous). Change can be about the simple things or the ones that others might not see. My friends might have laughed at the idea that I was sprucing up my look by growing out my fringe but considering that I had the same haircut for fifteen years meant that even this subtle change in appearance was a huge step for me.

And though I didn’t achieve my goal of moving out, there are other things that have changed for me. Namely, my perception of friendship and the notion of ‘adulting.’

I, Kyndaris, have always been a creature of habit and routine. For years, I had done my due diligence in attending school, going to my lectures, working my 9-5 job. Despite that, it’s been the small choices that I’ve made that seem to have made the biggest impact on those that I know.

My decision to return to my old high school gym for weekly badminton saw me reunite with an old friend. Through my interactions with her, she was able to grow and change. I can’t say whether my actions were for good or for ill but from what she has told me, I played some part in motivating her in her own projects and path of self-discovery.

Though I know not many read my blogs or the stories that I crank out onto FictionPress, I like to think that some of the things I’ve chosen to do have also helped others discover new things that they might not have thought twice about. To be fair, though, the thought that I could make any ever-lasting change in someone else’s life seems downright impossible. I’ve never thought myself capable of wielding such a power (and my readership seems to similarly indicate that this is the case). Even if I did, I wouldn’t know what to do with it except maybe encourage people to stop running the world into the ground.

So, after nearly three decades on this Earth (my birthday being the week before this blog post goes up), I’ve learned that I definitely am no longer the young child that I was before. Yes, the person that I was will forever remain a part of who I am but as the world turns, I’ve learned that I, too, must remain flexible and adaptable to the situations I find myself in.

Still, that won’t stop me from imagining that I’m slaying a mighty dragon, sword in hand, or piloting a spaceship. 

Nothing is ever static. And if ti were, I doubt the world would ever be as interesting as it is.

Even if I wish humans would stop doing stupid self-destructive things like plunging the entire globe into famine and pestilence.

[predvestnik-a]

it's not unusual for his thoughts to darken out of the blue, even when he's happily taking shelter in strong, scarred arms. when it happens, he's choked silent by terrors, eyes have to close on the devastation that becomes his mind. a little sigh in all the warning he can give childe, body devoid of tension as it fills with fear. he's high-strung, taut with nerves, yet the harbinger's touch relaxes and opposes to this.

that childe belongs to him it's absolute, something he can't bear to question: he has this man's powerful body under or above his, tightly latched together, whenever they want eachother. and the little part of his soul that belongs to the tsaritsa━ she can keep it, for kaeya has all the devotion and love from childe that he needs. yet...

' ajax? ' he lifts his head to meet deep blue, mere inches from his beloved's lips, preoccupied.with something. ' if i was a greedy man... ' he hesitates, unsure. they already had this conversation, yet... ' ━if i was greedy, would you forgive me? '

Exterior appearances mean nothing, they tell lies crafted around every crane and every nook. One can adorn themselves in elegance, painting the stars on their skin and blinding others with a smile which light is fabricated, but it still won't spare them the eventual exposition of what lies underneath. The true self, the intrinsic self; Kaeya was not exempt, though Childe reckons he's once thought himself to be.

The Harbinger's face drops to catch the captain's gaze, the exact depth behind those navy eyes is yet to be discovered, even for one who's reached far beyond what anyone else has. Locks the color of a summer sunset are brushed off freckled face with a blow of warm hair, a silly singular move that allows Childe to better see the hesitation on Kaeya's features.

Greed is not a sin to the gods of Ajax's world; not a crime, not what to be punished for, not something to be absolved of. Therefore, the question is met with blinking eyes and parted lips — breath out, one calloused hand reaching high to touch upon the mess of Kaeya's navy mane. Those fingers are littered in minor and major scars, are rough and unsightly, but they thread through a lover's hair as if either is made of stardust.

‘ If you were a greedy man, ʼ the notion lingers on his tongue, its aftertaste is of umami nature: a mix of flavors for the one consuming it to pick from, ‘ I would let you consume me. ʼ

[ganymedesbussy]

WIP: domesticity and shedding

The smell of baking bread filled the kitchen, and the muted roar of rain gave a pleasant backdrop to the russian waltz coming through the little mobile speaker he’d set up for Crowley, after the demon had been disabused of the notion that sound systems worked just fine without them [1]. Wrapping the little round loaf in a red-and-black checkered cloth, Aziraphale added it to the small basket he’d assembled and made his way to the greenhouse.

Inside, it was no less humid than without, but the air was redolent with flowers and sharp green smells that Aziraphale couldn’t quantify as anything other than the smell of life. Vines crawled up every surface that would support them, leaves erupted from every nook and cranny, and even a few small fruit trees were sitting smugly in their pots, sure of their safety as Aziraphale had complained that he could taste it when Crowley terrified them into compliance [2]. Tucked away in a little corner, Crowley reclined in a long, clawfoot bathtub. The steam from the water condensed on the windows, so that they were dripping inside and out, and beaded oddly on Crowley’s unusually dull skin. Aziraphale coughed politely to announce his approach, and smiled as Crowley’s tongue flicked out to taste the air before his clouded yellow eyes opened vaguely in Aziraphale’s direction.

“Hey, angel.” Crowley tipped his face up for a kiss, and Aziraphale gladly complied. “What’d you bring?”

“Just some little things I hoped might entice you. I know you said you’re not usually hungry around your shed, but I picked out a few of your favorites just in case.” Aziraphale settled himself on the bench next to the tub, relaxed in his shirtsleeves and braces with his cuffs rolled up to his elbows. As he made ready his feast, Crowley reached out and twined their fingers together, his piano-player’s hands with their knobbly knuckles and gardening calluses fitting perfectly between Aziraphale’s own soft, square palms. Aziraphale smiled, bringing his husband’s hand to his lips before releasing it.

“I’ve got those olives you like, as well as a few kinds of cheese, honey, a bit of fruit, and…” He revealed the still-steaming loaf of bread with all the flair he’d once used to display Harry the Rabbit. “That dark seedbread you like! I finally convinced dear Tracy to give me the recipe.”

Aziraphale preened at Crowley’s impressed-sounding whistle. “How’d you manage that one? Thought she’d never give it up.”

“Well, I may have mentioned you were a bit under the weather…”

Crowley groaned, submerging himself in the bath until his complaints were little more than gurgling bubbles before he emerged with a dramatically hangdog expression. “Aziraphale, please tell me you didn’t tell her I was shedding, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“No, of course not, darling. I simply said it was that time of the century, and she was confused enough to let it go.”

“Ha! That’s my bastard.” Crowley settled himself onto the side of the tub, head laid on his folded arms.

Aziraphale wiggled in his seat, breaking the loaf in two and

[1] As neither Aziraphale nor Crowley was entirely clear on how speakers worked, except that it was all wireless these days, they transmitted music just as easily from Aziraphale’s ancient gramophone as Crowley’s high-tech stereo, could pick up radio or streaming signals, and hadn’t been charged since being set up two Christmases ago. [2] The phrase ‘scared citrus’ may have come into play, and Crowley still maintained it was funny, no matter what Aziraphale said.

[kujakku]

“   i  can’t  tell  you  what  you’re  feeling  inside .   ” + “   something’s  missing   &   you’ve  got  to  look  back  on  your  life .   ” @ofhardknoxxx

" i do that on purpose. it's a skill at this point. i call it my special party trick. "

nobody can tell what she's feeling inside -- that's her thing, letting others see of her what she wants. mai is a chameleon, she's always been what others expect her to be ( the bombshell card dealer, the tramp, the ratty orphan ), and because self preservation is key, this is absolutely intentional. the notion of anyone seeing past the mask terrifies her to no end.

the notion of him having witnessed every single corner and nook of her mind terrifies her even more.

his eyes still haunt her at night ( lavender eyes should be beautiful; to mai, they are the eyes of a demon ), his voice still cuts deep into her skin like slashes of a blade. because whatever he was, wasn't human. that thing was not human -- it is said that no brain can fully wrap itself around the concept of true evil. human nature is rotten, yes, but pales in comparison to those lavender eyes looking into her soul with the grin of a jackal.

so, she doesn't expect jonouchi to understand. a part of her still resents him for it ( can't you see it? can't you see me at all? ), yet she knows, despite it all, that she chose to be an enygma to him. mai cannot expect jonouchi to know things about her she will never share with anyone at all.

and yet, she still wishes he would.

" y'know, instead of trying to stick your nose into my business, why don't you look at your own bullshit? " she's glancing away, tucking her feet further into her blanket. and she hates that he's come into her apartment, and he's cooked for her, and he's worried about her, because it just proves further that she's the one full of shit and he's not, " i just ... i'm fine. you underestimate my ability to keep all my emotional baggage inside a little suitcase and lock it away. i've done it before -- i'm fucking good at it, " she pauses for a second, inhales the steam of hot ramen noodles inside her bowl, " i'll start looking back on my life when you stop feeling guilty for not saving me that night. "

[darkrubymoon]

If only we’re brave enough to be it.

As Florida has chosen to ban Amanda Gorman's beautiful Inauguration Poem...I have decided to post it here in full.  Read for Yourself what ideas are being banned from schools.  This could one day be all America...not just Florida if you the voters do not start paying attention to what the GOP wishes to do to our country.

Amanda Gorman’s poem, “The Hill We Climb,”

When day comes, we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never-ending shade?

The loss we carry. A sea we must wade.

We braved the belly of the beast.

We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace, and the norms and notions of what “just” is isn’t always justice.

And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it.

Somehow we do it.

Somehow we weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished.

We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny Black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president, only to find herself reciting for one.

And, yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.

We are striving to forge our union with purpose.

To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and conditions of man.

And so we lift our gaze, not to what stands between us, but what stands before us.

We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside.

We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another.

We seek harm to none and harmony for all.

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true.

That even as we grieved, we grew.

That even as we hurt, we hoped.

That even as we tired, we tried.

That we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.

Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid.

If we’re to live up to our own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made.

That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb, if only we dare.

It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit.

It’s the past we step into and how we repair it.

We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation, rather than share it.

Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.

And this effort very nearly succeeded.

But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated.

In this truth, in this faith we trust, for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us.

This is the era of just redemption.

We feared at its inception.

We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour.

But within it we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves.

So, while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe, now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be: a country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce and free.

We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation, become the future.

Our blunders become their burdens.

But one thing is certain.

If we merge mercy with might, and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright.

So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left.

Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest, we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.

We will rise from the golden hills of the West.

We will rise from the windswept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution.

We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states.

We will rise from the sun-baked South.

We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.

And every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful.

When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid.

The new dawn blooms as we free it.

For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it.

If only we’re brave enough to be it.

[imababblekat]

~Trust In Love~

Ahkmenrah X Reader:

(Anon Request) “ Your blog has successfully re-awakened my old crush on Ahkmenrah, so I hope you're happy. Would I be able to request Ahkmenrah's crush looking for colleges to go to, and him being sad that he might not see them anymore.”

~xXx~

"The dorms here don't look too bad! What do you think?"

Your question went unheard, the person it had been asked of too distracted to notice. Ahkmenrah sat close beside you in one of the museum’s little window nooks. Outside, the summer night air was cool but comforting, nothing like the winters soon to come. But before any snow would fall, school season would start, which lead to the Pharaoh's current dilemma. The season of learning would soon fall upon you, and you'd been spending the past few months on your night job looking for colleges to attend. It didn't take long for you to narrow down a few, especially with the help of Ahk, who had been supporting your decision to gain more knowledge from the beginning. But as the choices got fewer and fewer, Ahk knew it was only a matter of time before he'd have to say goodbye. Whether that meant only being able to see you much less often, or not at all, he couldn't bear the thought of either.

A soft shake to his shoulder stirred Ahkmenrah from his troublesome thoughts, and he lightly jumped before quickly gaining composure and adjusting his tilted crown.

"Ahk you good?", you asked, worry evident in your voice.

"Y-yes, my love. I'm sorry, did you say something earlier?"

You squinted at your undead partner, your intense gaze causing said man to sheepishly avert his eyes to the tiled floor. Ahkmenrah was very obvious in most things he felt, so it wasn’t hard especially for you to tell that something was wrong. You were a very smart person and quickly put two and two together, letting out a heavy sigh, and slowly closed your laptop. Looking to the same tiled floor as Ahk, you voiced what you'd figured had been consuming him.

"You don't want me to leave, do you?"

Your voice sounded so hurt, and that caused Ahkmenrah to quickly face you with an even more worried expression.

"No! Well, I mean, yes, but it's not how you think.", Ahk quickly interjected, feeling his heart twinge when you turned away as he tried to reach out.

Truth be told, being away from Ahkmenrah was something that had been on your mind as well. You were used to only being able to see him at night, but the notion of being separated by more than then sun and moons dance, left you with a sinking feeling in your chest. You hadn't brought it up with him, he'd been so supportive and helpful on starting your journey to higher education. You didn't want him to feel as though his aid was nothing but a waste, plus you didn't want to stop your own self from achieving your aspirations.

"It is how I think, Ahk. I. . .I don't want to leave you either, but I need to do this. I want to do this.", you firmly stated, turning to finally face him with choked back tears.

Ahk frowned, seeing you in such a state was never easy for him. He hated to see your eyes become glossy, and hear the strain in your voice. As much as the fear of loneliness struck him to his soul, he also wanted this for you. The night you first brought up going to college, you seemed so excited, so thrilled, that he couldn’t help but feel the same way. And the way you would get so giddy looking at schools with him, going on and on about the little extra things like cafes around the campus, or other museums in the area, made him smile in adoration. You made him smile and feel so warm inside every time your face lit up in pure joy. That's why he knew what he had to do, and that was continue to support you every step of the way to see you achieve good things that made you so happy, even if that meant saying goodbye.

"Oh (y,n)", Ahk started, a soft smile on his face as he took one of your hands in his and cupped your cheek with the other.

"I will miss you every waking night, but to know that you are doing something that truly matters to you, is all that matters to me. As long as you're happy, I will be too. I know I probably won't get to see you very often, or hardly at all, but know that I will be waiting and rooting for you every minute that I am awake. I'll do so even in my deepest dreams."

You let out a small laugh, being guided forward by Ahk's warm embrace to rest against the other's forehead.

"I think of everything, I'll miss your cheesiness the most Ahk."

Said Ancient Pharaoh chuckled lightly, tilting his head up to place a long-lasting kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a deep hug. As he ran his hands through your hair, letting you rest against him in the peacefulness of each other’s presence, Ahkmenrah knew you'd both thinking of some way to stay connected. It could be through Larry sending video messages of Ahk to you, or since he knew how much you loved his unique ways of romanticism, he could perhaps write you some loving letters.

Ahk kissed the top of your head, resting his nose there as he snuggled you close, and began to think of a cheesy pickup line to start his future love note with.

~xXx~