#its struck me from the very start that they were eternally engaged | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darlingdekarios · 7 months

Text

the best thing.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,608 content: Gale Dekarios x f!tav [f!reader], porn with plot, established relationship (engaged), post-Baldur's Gate III canon, fluff, domestic bliss, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie], kink(s) [overstimulation, orgasm control, hands, hair pulling, body worship]

after everything the two of you have been through, you're eager to give Gale one perfect, blissful day.

It was almost unbelievable seeing you bathed in the golden hues of the morning standing in his kitchen, back to him as you fussed over whatever it was you currently had sizzling on the stove. It was so rare that he was able to sneak upon you these days - you were so attuned to one another that simply entering the same room was enough of a greeting.

But now you were focused, far too much so to notice your lover's entrance, or even to notice him for several more moments as he leaned against the doorframe, peacefully enjoying the serenity that being near to you caused. Even this was enough to fill his heart with love.

"If there should ever come a day when your presence does not fill this tower again it will surely be a day without sunrise."

You turned to him and offered a smile that rivaled the sun itself in beauty and warmth, every bit as life sustaining to him. You were wearing an apron he often donned in the kitchen, the fabric graffitied with streaks of color and puffs of powder. He was struck as he so often was with you, offering nothing more than a smile in return that reached his eyes as he remained transfixed by you - the very center of his universe and far beyond anything his goddess had ever shown him in beauty.

"There are painters who envy me of this privilege. To wake to such beauty in my own home every day…I truly am a fortunate man."

You would never tire of the way Gale's words spread through you like warmest fire, making you feel worthy of a love such as this every moment no matter how your mind was trying to force you to feel that day. To say in the time that had passed since your adventures in bliss would be an understatement - both of you had found what could only be described as heaven in life with one another.

Everything about one another had become home, the deep love the two of you shared the kind that people prayed to the gods for.

"You wake up everyday and set out to make me love you more than the last.""

"I could say the very same to you, my love," his voice was particularly cheerful this morning and you were glad you'd decided today for your plan. It was already off to a great start, and it could truly only get better from here with what you had up your sleeve. "What has you in the kitchen at this hour? We didn't exactly get to sleep early, by any standard."

When you've gone through the things you've been through, sometimes it can feel wrong when someone looks at you with the amount of love and adoration Gale was now…the way he did so often these days. Whether you were resting in his bed, reading at his side, curled with Tara on the couch, or doing any other thing to fill the time, he looked at you now like it was what he hoped to do last in the world.

And he always would.

"I made you breakfast. Or at least…I did my best at…making you breakfast."

The smile that spread across his face was more stunning than any of the scenery in all of your adventures, not a single star or moon matching its beauty. As you were lost in your profound love for him he took the lull in conversation to close the distance to you, wrapping his arms around you and reuniting you into his warm embrace - it hadn't been long, but it was always an eternity.

He pressed several kisses to your forehead as he gazed over your shoulder, analyzing the plates you'd made for the two of you to enjoy. His brows pulled together in an expression you recognized as being deep in thought - you pressed a kiss to the lines as he spoke again.

"I know this meal…"

Your lips lifted into a smile against his skin and he reached upward to encourage you to meet his gaze again, awaiting your response and hoping it was a confirmation of what he suspected. "It was the first breakfast you made for the party. I remember how proud you were and how delicious it was…no one had ever cooked for me like that."

"Your memory is just as astounding as the rest of you," he was positively grinning at you, eyes expressive and proudly displaying every bit of love he felt for you. His head tilted to the side briefly - something you were quite fond of - as his brow furrowed again, the arm that remained around your waist pulling you closer. "It's not my birthday, is it?"

Forget loving him more by the day - you loved Gale Dekarios more by the second.

"No, dearest," you replied, reaching one of your hands upward to rest against his chest. You held his gaze as you spoke knowing he preferred when you didn't look away. "I just realized…in all the time since I've met you there have been many meals that you've made me, and I've never made you a single one."

His expression softened even more, something you didn't know was possible, pressing a gentle and loving kiss to her lips. The first kiss of the new day was always a shared favorite between the two of you - no matter how many days passed the first always created goosebumps and pulled quiet sighs of pleasure from your chests.

"You are truly are a gentle soul," he muttered against your lips, the hand that still cradled the back of your head sliding to cup your cheek instead, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone tenderly. "I'm still not always entirely sure I deserve it."

"But you do," you promised, eager to hush the self doubt that still lingered in your fiancé day-to-day. It was something you were happy to live with - it never annoyed you or grew tiresome, you were more than willing to remind him how loved he was despite any mistakes he'd made in the past, that any he'd make in the future were already forgiven. "You deserve it, Gale. We've been through so much together and I was thinking…I want you to have a perfect day. I want to do anything and everything you want to do for an entire day."

"Starting with breakfast?"

You sheepishly smiled and nodded before confirming, "I know it won't be as good as when you made it, but…"

"It will be perfect," he silenced your own worries gracefully and gently before they could even begin to fester. "As most things made in love are. Would you join me on the balcony for our meal?"

It was incredible how something as mundane as sharing a meal together could become an act of utmost intimacy. With Gale even the smallest moments felt like a life's worth of promise and love - if every day was like this you would leave this life with nothing but happiness in your heart. The day passed with him like a dream, like you'd truly found the person you were meant to spend this much time with. The person you were meant to face the passing years together - who you were excited to watch more grey bloom in his hair.

After breakfast both of you had fallen asleep on the balcony in a gentle embrace, his arms holding you against his chest as you slept. When you woke, Tara was asleep on your back and so you'd continue to lay together until the tressym removed herself to carry on with her day. All the while Gale had gazed at you lovingly, stroking your hair and face when you had continued to sleep a few moments longer. He'd never tire of the serenity that filled your face in truly peaceful slumber.

For lunch Gale opted to eat by a nearby lake, the beautiful afternoon the perfect landscape for him to take a moment to indulge in a bit of poetry…about you, of course. It made you bashful when he did so - it always had and likely always would, a demure laugh passing through your lips as you tried to hide behind your hands as he poetically described the many things he loved about you.

Of course, the heat in your cheeks only increased when his poetry turned to that of describing the ways he wanted to demonstrate his love - but you were certain you were burning when he'd followed it with a kiss not entirely decent for a relatively public setting. Nevertheless, he certainly didn't seem to mind.

It continued with a trip to the bookstore, the apothecary, and to another local merchant where he bought some supplies for home and a necklace for you that yes he insisted you have, even though you now had a collection forming in the tower. Before you could finish your day in town he asked to pop down to the local inn for a quick drink.

You were well aware that this was truly just time for Gale to show off his future wife to the other patrons - something that always made you feel fantastic about yourself. The fact that the famed Wizard of Waterdeep felt pride in having you at his side was no small compliment - it was a fact you flourished in.

Back home, the two of you cooked dinner together, Gale eager to give you tips on how you could improve in the future. When it was time to eat you shared a bottle of wine that you'd selected together earlier and ate in silence, reading your new books with zero complaints even capable of being formed in your mind.

Your eyes only left the words on the pages to glance across the table to him lovingly - something you were joyous to find he mirrored frequently. It was after dinner had been cleaned up and the two of you had tidied up from the day that you found yourself in his embrace, yet again on the balcony where so much of your shared time was spent.

For a while he simply remained with his head resting atop yours, holding you gently as you shared another sunset. It was only once the sun had completely gone for the night over the horizon that he turned you in his arms slowly, eyes finding yours like it was their nature to do so, wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you again tenderly.

"Have you enjoyed your day, my heart?"

He smiled the kind of smile that pulled lines beside his eyes, eyes that were twinkling and rivaling the stars that had started to decorate the sky for the night. You could feel how content and relaxed he was in the delicate hold he maintained on you, the love pouring from him and seeming to wrap you in a tighter embrace. It was these moments where the weave truly connected the two of you, holding you together and proving that you were meant to be together in this world - and the next, if that happened to be what came.

"I have enjoyed every day by your side, even the difficult ones," his voice was so earnest there was simply no possibility of disbelief from you - you could hear the honesty soaking his words, every sentence another promise and declaration of his love for you. "But today has been perfection. I could thank you for a lifetime and it wouldn't be enough."

The kiss he gave you then was the kind that is written about in books - in fairytales, the kind that inspires poetry and signifies the truest of love. He continued to hold you against him gently as your lips entered a dance you both yearned for constantly - at this point you were no strangers to what each of you liked and it was reflected with every swipe of your tongues and movement of your lips.

And it was always until you were both breathless - never a second before. The two of you had experienced so many things together that had made so many of your early tenderness rushed - neither of you were ever in any particular rush anymore. This kiss was exactly like so many these days - savored. And yet this was only the beginning of what the two of you would savor in the night to come.

"Would you like to retire to our bedroom for the night?"

You words were light as you whispered against his lips, biting at the bottom one lightly when you finished your question. A truly pleased grin spread across his face as you pulled away, his arms still anchoring you to him - if you wanted him to he'd release you, of course, but it was never a moment too soon.

"Darling, you need only ask."

Thankfully, the bedroom was mere steps away and it was easy to tug him inside with hands gently pulling at the collar of his shirt, your lips not leaving one another for long. Though it was obvious where Gale's mind was heading - a it was difficult to deny it for much longer as it had been growing since the kiss at the lake earlier - you still had one more thing planned for him.

One of his hands slid lower to cup your ass and bring you closer, tongue seeking entry into your mouth again as he waved a hand to ensure there was some light by way of many candles. You shook your head to which he huffed, pulling away just far enough to pass you an inquisitive look.

"Not quite yet, my love," you cooed, pressing a consolation kiss to his lips briefly before pulling away fully, wrestling yourself free from his grasp with a giggle. "Remove your shirt and lie down on your stomach."

Though he muttered under his breath about it he followed your instructions, brown eyes searching your face for a response as you only sat on the bet waiting for him, always one to enjoy the sight of him undressing. When he was finally in the position you asked him to be you straddled his lower back, hands slowly rubbing the expanse of his shoulders with the perfect pressure to pull a groan from him.

And that was the end of his silent questioning - every swipe of your hand, knead from your fingers and caress was met with a moan, groan, or whine from him - as time continued on he was mumbling into his pillow about how much he loved you…repeatedly. When you reached a particular point you could practically feel tension melt away from him and you leaned downward to press a kiss to the back of his neck before encouraging him to roll with a squeeze of your legs.

And oh, was he happy to oblige - to be reunited with your face, now with the moon's glow coming through the curtains to illuminate you alongside the flickering candles. A considerable amount of time had passed since you began massaging him and still you showed no signs of stopping, continuing to straddle his waist as your efforts now focused on his chest.

"Your hands are divine," he was barely coherent through the pleasure he already felt, his words far less calculated than they're normally be. "I could lay here for a ten day and happily starve."

"I suppose you're feeling well about your day then, my love?"

It was an unnecessary question - you both knew it. But he was also just as aware that you loved to hear about the feelings your efforts had earned, and it had been a long time since he'd denied you of anything you wanted that he could provide. With his most charming smile he nodded, leaning forward to rub the tip of his nose against yours gently in an innocent show of affection.

You reached upward to run your fingers through his hair delicately, pulling a blissful sigh from his lips again. If it were possible to create a symphony from what filled your bedroom you would gladly hear its melody forever…a sentiment he'd expressed toward you once that you held at the core of your memory and found your mind circling back to often.

So much of his mind was an exact reflection of your that sometimes it seemed they were still connected sometimes.

"Absolutely blessed," when Gale spoke it was as though you were the one who could answer his prayers, something you found irresistibly sweet about him. "If you're not careful you will spoil me beyond reason."

You leaned down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss again, his hands grasping your hips again, sliding to rub over the soft expanse of your thighs. Too selfish to release his lips again you whispered into the kiss, your own hands resting on his chest still, his heartbeat steady and soothing.

"I fail to see why that would be so bad."

He could only smile into it as he continued to kiss you slowly, one of his hands sliding up to hold the back of your head delicately. He began to raise until he was sitting upright, keeping you anchored where you straddled him with his resolute hold on your hip still, ensuring your lips never parted from his for longer than a breath.

Before his arms engulfed your waist his hands made quick work of removing the robe that covered your frame, discarding it to the floor with little care. His hands caressed over your torso like he truly cherished every inch of you and sought to ensure not a single patch of you went unattended to.

(He truly loved every inch of you - a fact you believed deep into your core. You'd only asked him once what his favorite part of your body was - he'd almost been offended that you'd think he could narrow a list of such considerable length.)

"Still, it may be good for me to exercise some selflessness tonight," he offered, a handsome and playful expression illuminating his features. His hands were now gently resting on either side of your neck, thumbs lightly rubbing back and forth - unable to stay fully idle for long. "You gave me the perfect day. Will you let me treat you to a perfect night in our bed?"

"Have you known me to say no to you often?"

"Only when I've needed to hear it."

No further talk was needed and the two of you continued to kiss tenderly, his hands returning to lavish your breasts again. Your own hands maintained a hold on the back of his head, fingers grasping his hair delicately - completely unwilling to have him pull away. Happy to oblige and always eager to swallow the quiet sounds of pleasure he could pull from you, especially now in the privacy of a bedroom where it had not always been a luxury you'd been provided, one of his hands continued to trail lower.

Until it reached as low as he could on your leg in this position, fingers brushing over the soft skin of your inner thigh - it was obvious he was influencing the weave to crackle at his fingertips gently, the result a pleasant tingle dancing across your skin. Your legs squeezed tighter around him in anticipation and he chastised you with a light swat to your thigh, not to cause pain but to capture your focus again.

You responded with a light nip to his bottom lip which earned a cheeky smile from him, eyes staying on yours as his hand finally reached your core - where you were desperate for him most. Over your panties it was still obvious how wet you were in anticipation of him - your time with Gale had proven that things like that only spurred him onward more, the confirmation that you wanted him just as desperately clouding his mind of all logic.

"Have you been wet all day, my love?"

The tone of his voice melted you like wax, you could only nod and whimper as he pushed the fabric to the side, slowly running two of his skilled digits between your soaked folds. His lips were only centimeters from yours so every movement brought them together slightly, your moan cut off as he kissed you again, index finger circling your clit slowly. He opted to speak against your lips, unwilling to be too far from your sweet lips for long.

"I'd have indulged you long before now had I known this is what waited for me."

His fingers swiped back down to your entrance and the middle slipped into you slowly, a smile playing on his lips as he kissed you again. Though one finger meant every exit and reentry meant pinpointed strokes the stretch wasn't enough to satiate the pressure that was seated in your core, more of a stretch needed than what one finger provided. It only took a slight squirm of your hips for him to take the cue, slipping a second finger into you which you thanked him for with a moan.

He left your lips to kiss to your neck, reclaiming spots that had often been decorated with his mark in your time since returning home with him. His fingers set a leisurely pace pumping into you, stroking your velvet walls perfectly as his tongue lavished a spot on your neck that you knew would only add to the slick coating his hand.

His free hand came to one of your breasts to massage gently, fingers rolling your sensitive nipple and pinching to add to the melody sounding from your mouth. From where you were seated in his lap you could feel his cock hard and throbbing beneath you, adding to your desperation - as skilled as Gale's hands, fingers and mouth were it would never compare to joining together with him.

You rocked down against his waist which pulled a groan from him, fingers picking up pace as he nipped at your neck. "Patient, darling…"

His hand left your chest to grasp your hip instead, steadying the movements you both knew would drive him over an edge he was intent to tiptoe around still for a while yet. When you continued to try to squirm in his hold he removed from you completely, brow furrowed as he used a hand to push you onto your back. He kissed down your torso slowly, eyes staying fixated on yours as he went - communicating his instruction to stay still without a word.

"Gale please, I need you…"

You tried to tempt him into giving into your way for once by reaching upward and slipping your fingers into his hair, giving the messy locks a tug to try to encourage him upward. It was briefly annoying that you felt his lips curve against your hip - amused by your attempt, no doubt -

*(Later when your mind is clearer you'll reflect on this moment - as you so often reflected after intimacy with Gale - and you'd once again be thankful for his insistence on ensuring he went above and beyond for you in all senses.

It was impossible to forget that you'd become the most important thing to him.)

"You know I won't give you what you want until you've cum at least once for me, darling," he reminded, his voice feather light against your inner thigh now where he sucked a fresh mark into your thigh to match what the fading ones had once appeared as. Your fingers ran through his hair and tugged again, he only groaned deeply in response and lightly bit at the spot he'd just marked.

"Gale -"

He did love when you whined for him - it almost always nearly enough to make him break on the spot, the temptation to give into you near overwhelming.

"Ah ah ah," he whispered, the vibrations in his voice tickling your skin as his lips brushed a familiar trail up your thigh to your core. "No arguing, my love. I'm not asking anything unreasonable."

All that was left to do was melt as his tongue ran through your folds, an appreciative moan rumbling in his chest as he tasted you - as though it was the first time all over again. The argument was completely lost as he continued to cover every inch of your cunt with his tongue. He was exactly what he'd told you to be - patient - as his tongue ran back and forth between your oversensitive and swollen clit and your hole that was eager to clench around anything.

This was certainly one of his favorite ways to spend his time now - sometimes to busy his mind with anything other than tortured thoughts of the past he'd lose himself in devouring you. The fact that you always gushed on his tongue was a bonus, one he was more than happy to work for, sometimes refusing to remove his head until you'd finished multiple times.

Even he wasn't patient enough for that tonight, but he was enough to continue lavishing you with his skilled tongue, hands gripping your hips and angling you upward so he was able to fuck his tongue into you and lean back occasionally to gaze lovingly at your pretty, creamy cunt. With the amount of love and devotion he was putting into every movement, it wasn't long until your thighs were squeezing closer around his head, the subtle shake at his fingertips giving your impending release away before you managed to moan out the warning.

"I'm…I…"

"There you go," he leaned away to look up into your face, his lips and chin covered in your slick and his spit. One of his hands abandoned its hold on your hip to join his mouth, two fingers entering you again in a swift movement, the sound that accompanied the movement enough to build heat in your cheeks. "That's a good girl."

With his fingers now pumping into your hole again it left his mouth to focus on your clit, his tongue relentlessly swirling on the bundle of nerves as he pushed you toward release. Your vision was already whitening and your fingers gripped his hair tighter, a cry ripping from your chest as his other hand pressed down on your stomach.

That sensation snapped like a rubber band through you - while you were lost in ecstasy you hardly registered that your release was gushing from you, though Gale wasted no time in covering as much of your cunt with his mouth so he could drink your euphoric nectar.

As you were coming down he crawled back up you, pressing kisses along your torso as he whispered a word or sentence of praise with each one. You were pinned beneath him, one of his forearms resting next to your head as a leg moved to slide one of yours higher - though you were in a post-orgasm haze you registered you needed to wrap your leg around his waist.

His hand came to smooth your hair back, leaning down to press a delicate kiss to your nose - a tender action that didn't match the lewd way he rolled his hips into yours, his cock throbbing and leaking from what you could feel against your pussy. His other hand maintained a tight grip on your hip and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips now, whispering quietly against them.

"Are you ready for me, my love?"

The truth was, he could never enter you fast enough - or at least he wouldn't, his playful nature shining through one last time before he lost himself completely in intimacy. It showed now in the subtle shake to his voice, the slightly higher pitch that gave away how much he needed you.

"Please."

"I do so enjoy when you ask nicely."

He started sliding his cock into you slowly groaning the entire way, opting not to continue to kiss you so he could gaze into your face with complete adoration, finding just as much bliss in seeing your eyes roll back and flutter closed as a light smile played on your lips as he did in feeling your velvet walls around him again.

And this - this was as perfect as anything else that had ever truthfully been described as such. This is where both of you found some reason, some meaning - where both of you created your own galaxies. It started slow, Gale preferring to savor the first strokes inch by inch every time. His lips never left you, kissing you gently in any place he could reach on your face and neck and shoulders as he muttered quiet words of love and appreciation.

Poetry that would only be shared between the two of you.

When he was satisfied with the amount he'd cherished every inch of your walls welcoming him in again he re-angled your bodies so both of your legs were around his waist now, the new angle allowing him to fuck into you deeper. Now he was hitting a spot he knew would make you see stars, hoping that you'd thank him for remembering exactly how to reach it -

"Gale…feels s'good…"

He sounded his appreciation with a loud moan of his own, his pace increasing as the tension built in his core now. You felt impossibly tighter each time he re-entered, a fact that was driving him closer to release. Unable to voice it he pressed a sloppy, desperate kiss to your lips before leaning his sweaty forehead against yours, breaths falling out heavy against your lips.

No matter how close his release threatened to snap, he would never do so without hearing you tell him to do so. You allowed him a moment to dangle over the edge for a moment as you bit into your bottom lip, catching his attention and focus - focus on your swollen lips, and the sweaty sheen covering your face and slicking your hair…on the way your eyes threatened to spill tears at how blissfully good you felt.

"Come for me, Gale," the instruction already had him grasping you tighter, but when you continued with an offer that hadn't previously been on the table it was impossible for him to hold back much longer. "Fill me…"

He kissed you again - a little too hard for how swollen your lips already were from the amount of kissing already done but with a passion that was returned nonetheless. His thrusts became just as messy as his kisses had and he pumped his throbbing length into you hard and fast, hips pistoning into yours repeatedly.

Both of your sounds filled the room as his movements pushed you toward a second release of your own, walls clenching around him so tight he now couldn't bring himself to remove from you completely. Recognizing both of you needed a breath as his own head began to spin he buried into you to the hilt roughly one last time as his orgasm started, toppling you over into your own at the feeling of his thick seed coating your insides.

You were thankful he wasn't a particularly massive man when he practically collapsed against you, breaths coming out heavy against your neck as his mind found a new addiction in filling your womb. Normally he'd withdraw to get a soft and warm cloth to clean you but tonight it hardly seemed necessary - even if you fell asleep now it wouldn't be long before he was sheathing himself in you again.

He would care for you in other ways tonight, pulling away from you slowly and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he positioned you both into something much more comfortable, facing one another on your sides so you could continue to enjoy the serenity illuminating one another's faces.

Between your bodies one of his hands met yours, your fingers lightly tracing lines on the back of his hand. He continued to enjoy the true peace of the moment before speaking again.

"Today was beyond words," he whispered lightly when he found his voice again. You could hear the love that each word was spoken with - what's more you could see it reflected in his eyes. "You give me everything I could have ever dreamed of and more."

You moved closer to curl up to him, burying your face in his neck as he waved a hand to ignite the fireplace, keeping one arm around you to hold you close as one of your legs slipped up over his waist. After he pulled the blanket over your bodies he turned his head to press a kiss to your forehead, finding your eyes were already closed and yet you still had a small smile on your lips. As he gazed at you for just a moment longer Tara jumped onto the foot of the bed, giving a long stretch before settling in for the night, her purrs mixing with the crackle of the fire.

Just when he thought you'd already fallen asleep you surprised him with another question.

"Let's do it again tomorrow?"

He kissed your forehead with a light smile on his lips as his arms tightened around you, happy to give this and more to you for as many days as you'd allow.

"And the day after that."

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios smut #baldur's gate 3 smut #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #gale dekarios fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

elainsshadows · 3 years

Text

I want to talk about Elain today and her role in future books. I will also be talking about other ships at the end of this including: Lucien x Vassa, Lucien x Elain, and Azriel x Gwyn. These are merely my opinions and thoughts, this is not me trying to bash anyone else's opinions. I am open to having discussions as long as you are kind and respectful.

This is going to be long as a warning. Let's begin.

Quiet Strength

My friend recently start reading ACOTAR and she came to me one day and said that she had found a quote that she really liked. That quote was:

"She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger" ~ ACOTAR, pg. 259

I know that a lot of antis like to bring up the fact that Elain didn't do anything but plant flowers and such while Feyre was out risking her life to put food on the table. Why hadn't Elain planted food instead? As someone who tried to garden vegetables with her dad one year I can tell you it's not as easy as flowers.

Maybe Elain was trying to bring some color into their drab little existence like Feyre had done with the paints. Maybe she wanted one thing to make her happy.

When Feyre comes to see them in ACOMAF, to ask for their help, it was Elain who said that they should help.

"If... if we do not help Feyre, there won't be a wedding." ~ ACOMAF pg. 247

"Feyre gave and gave - for years. Let us help her. Help... others." ~ ACOMAF pg. 248

Elain was risking a lot by saying they should now help their Fae sister. She was going to be married to someone who's family hated the Fae. If they found out what Elain and Nesta were doing it would probably be the end of her engagement to Graysen. They would become Fae sympathizers and like the Children of the Blessed we see mentioned throughout the books.

Would a coward risk all of this? Not to me they wouldn't.

When Rhys, Az, and Cassian arrive once Elain had cleared out the servants. Elain, while scared, still tries to be a good host to the four of them. I want to come back to this scene when I discuss Elriel because this was the moment that I first started thinking that they would make a good pair.

But while Nesta and Feyre are more bold with their actions like wielding swords, bow and arrows, knives, etc., Elain doesn't necessarily back down from a challenge. When given Truth-Teller she simply states that she doesn't know how to use it. She does not shove it back at Azriel and refuse it, she simply informs him she doesn't know how to use it.

Also when they had been captured by Hybern and all that mess was going down. Tamlin had been gunning for Feyre and it was Elain who did this:

"But Elain's cry - a warning. A warning to- To my right, now exposed, Tamlin ran for me. To grab me at last." ACOMAF pg. 602

Elain, despite being scared in this highly stressful situation, saw her sister in danger and tried her hardest to warn her. If it had not been for Elain, Tamlin might have been able to grab Feyre at that moment in all the confusion and chaos. Despite being in her nightgown and terrified she still tried to protect her younger sister.

Once again when people are in danger once the Wall had been taken down it was Elain who spoke up. She knew that Graysen's family's estate could help protect those closest to the Wall and from any Fae that may come to do them harm.

"Glamour me," Elain said - to Rhys. "Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open his gates to those seeking sanctuary." ~ ACOWAR pg. 471

"It's already ended badly. Now it's just a matter of deciding how we meet the consequences." ~ ACOWAR pg. 471

She's Fae now. If Graysen or any of his family or those working for them knew this (which we see that they did) then they might kill her on sight. She risked her life to make sure defenseless humans remained as safe as they could with the oncoming war.

When Azriel and Feyre go to Hybern's camp to save Elain they also save another human. They are being pursued and clearly, the human girl is terrified of them, but it is Elain that says this:

"Grab onto him!" Elain ordered to the wide-eyed human girl as Azriel thundered toward her. *skipped ahead* "Elain screamed at her, "If you want to live, do it now!" ~ ACOWAR pg. 577

She also does this when the King of Hybern's beasts are upon them:

"Elain moved. As Azriel battled to keep them airborne, keep his grip on them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast's face. Its eye. *Skipped ahead* "Elain slammed her bare, muddy foot into its face again. The blow struck home." ACOWAR pg. 577

Knowing that their lives are in danger and that if this beast does anything to Azriel's wings they are all going to die. She does not hesitate and does not back down as she goes after the beast with her barefoot.

She slays the King of Hybern as well:

"Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the King's neck as she snarled in his ear, "Don't you touch my sister." ~ ACOWAR pg. 652

She has a protective streak in her and she will go down swinging if she has to.

And this I just found interesting. Everyone seems to shy away from Amren, but in ACOFAS this happens when they're all eating together:

"Elain, to my surprise, held Amren's gaze." ~ ACOFAS pg. 108

I just like that she held Amren's gaze.

Being Feminine Isn't Boring

I see a lot of people saying that Elain being feminine is boring, that she isn't an exciting heroine. Yes, Elain isn't one of SJM's typical heroines, but I think that makes her all the more interesting. We've never seen someone who isn't like Aelin, Bryce, Feyre, and Nesta from SJM.

"Elain stood between Nuala and Cerridwen at the long worktable. All three of them covered in flour." ~ ACOWAR pg. 386

"Elain was in the kitchen, helping Nuala and Cerridwen prepare the evening meal." ~ ACOFAS pg. 101

"She'd been toiling in the estate gardens since dawn." ~ ACOSF pg. 28

"Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie's garden." ~ ACOSF pg. 311

Do I think Elain's entire book will be based on her baking and taking care of gardens? No, I don't. I think she is capable of more than that and that is going to lead into my next point.

Elain Archeron, 007

This is not a new theory and it isn't even one that I came up with. Many lovely Elriels have pointed out comparisons to Azriel and Elain and how he may even teach her how to be a spy. I think it is a perfectly lovely idea. Let me show you some quotes from the book that make me think that this could be a possibility.

"Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, "Using me." ~ ACOSF pg. 230

They were talking about looking for the Dread Trove here and scrying. They were debating who should do it when Elain stepped up. She has done this before and with her seer abilities she is a perfect choice for the job. Obviously several characters aren't thrilled with the idea (Nesta and Azriel being two of the ones that don't like the idea).

"Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, "There is an innate darkness to the Drea Trove that Elain should not be exposed to." ~ ACOSF pg. 311

"Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why." ~ ACOSF pg. 470

"You came," Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. *skipped ahead* "Wondering if she'd been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends." ~ ACOSF pg. 595

We see that even Nesta is questioning whether or not Elain has been having lessons. She very well could have or this could be a hidden talent that Nesta has never gotten to see or never cared to see because she viewed Elain as someone who is innocent and needing protection.

Nesta mothers Elain throughout the series, we constantly see her coming to Elain's defense, stepping in front of her, talking for her. And while Elain used to let that slide we can see now that she is coming into her own and not letting Nesta walk all over her.

"Elain said, "You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater." ~ ACOSF pg. 232

I think Elain has been denied many things in her life because she has been seen as the most beautiful. Her own mother seeing her as nothing more than a pretty face that would be easy to marry off once she was of age. What will she do now that she has more freedom than she did before? Now that she will not become some lord's wife?

I do not see Elain as a warrior who is ready for battle, but I see her being ready for a different kind of battle.

"It took hours for Elain to work her charm on the staff to swiftly pack their bags and leave, each with a purse of money to hasten the process." ~ ACOMAF pg. 250

You know who else is charming? James Bond.

Being another pretty face has something going for Elain. No one would look at her and think "Yeah she's totally a spy." She can charm people, make them feel more at ease, and get them to open up. Maybe even enough that they think nothing of divulging things in front of her that otherwise shouldn't be overheard.

Maybe she can learn to glamour herself so that she is not recognizable to others. Who knows but I'm sure we'll find out when her book happens.

Welcome To Spring

One of my least favorite theories I've seen is that Elain will leave the Night Court and her family to go to Spring. Even going as far as saying that she will wind up with Tamlin. I don't think Feyre would let her sister wind up with her abuser plain and simple. Nor do I think Elain would fall for her sister's abuser just because he lives in a land of eternal spring and has flowers.

In ACOSF Nesta has this thought:

"Elain would love this place. So many flowers, all in bloom, so much green, *skipped ahead* But Elain... The Spring Court had been made for someone like her." ~ ACOSF pg. 454

While I do believe that Elain would love the Spring Court I do not think she would ever leave her family or friends behind.

"Two half-wraiths she called friends." ~ ACOSF pg. 595

"Cassian kissing Elain's cheek in greeting. *skipped ahead* Amren came next, giving my sister a nod. *skipped ahead* The Mor, with a smacking kiss for either cheek." ~ ACOFAS pg. 105

We also know that the sisters tend to consider one of the brothers friends. Feyre with Cassian, Nesta with Azriel, and I believe Rhys and Elain will also be friends. He seems to like Elain (certainly more than he likes Nesta).

Plus now there is Nyx in the mixture and why would she leave and miss out on her nephew growing up? What about if Nesta becomes pregnant and has a child? So no I do not believe that Elain will leave the Night Court.

Shipping Time

Here is where opinions and feelings may vary and people might not like what I have to say. Just know that these are merely my feelings on a ship. Ship what you want to ship, I am not here to gatekeep. These are merely my feelings on the matter. I'm going to start with the two ships I like: Elain x Azriel and Lucien x Vassa.

Elain Archeron x Azriel

I mentioned this earlier but I've been shipping them since ACOMAF. I saw the potential for them from the moment they began to interact.

"Elain rasped, "Nice to meet you," before hustling after her, the silk skirts of her cobalt dress whispering over the parquet floor." ~ ACOMAF pg. 253

I like the symbolism in this line. Cobalt = Azriel's siphons. Whispering = Azriel's shadows. While it might not be that deep as a writer I like the small things like this in my works. Things that later when you come back to them after something important happens that is a callback to something like this you can go "ooooh that makes sense now, yeah." We also do see other mentions of Elain wearing blue, but this post is long enough and it's only a few more times so I don't think it's worth noting. This part just sticks out to me because it's the first time they're meeting and like I said I love symbolism.

"Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, "Can you truly fly?" ~ ACOMAF pg. 256

Elain who has been taught to fear the Fae is talking to him, also probably leaning around Cassian - who she is seated next to and also has wings - and asking if he can fly.

Azriel responds on the same page saying, "We're born hearing the song of the wind." And her response of, "That's very beautiful." This is the same male who famously said he wouldn't need poetry to woo a woman. Maybe he's not trying to woo her here, but he's trying to impress her.

"Elain, noticing Azriel's ease as proof that things weren't indeed about to go badly offered one (a smile) of her own as well." ~ ACOMAF pg. 258

She seems mighty comfortable with a Fae she just met. Which leads my into my two mate theory that I've had for some time now.

We know the tweet where SJM says that someone can have two mates. This was during a time when one of the TOG novels was about to come out and was probably referencing something in there, but I think it would be interesting to see play out in this situation as well.

We've seen several times people questioning Elain and Lucien's mating bond. Feyre and Azriel both do it. Feyre during ACOWAR and Azriel in his bonus chapter from ACOSF.

We also know that not all mates are happy pairings ie. Rhysand's parents and Tamlin's parents. We also know that sometimes it's based on who would have the strongest offspring. We can see this reflected in both Rhysand and Feyre's mating (he's considered the most powerful High Lord and she has abilities from all seven HLs).

But what if Elain and Lucien aren't true mates? True mates to me is a happily mated pair like Feyre and Rhys as well as Nesta and Cassian. Azriel questions why his brothers were mated to two sisters while the third was mated to another. (Pardon me for not using quotes here, I do not have the bonus chapter so I am going from memory.)

Why indeed? And I think it was because he was on the floor dying at the time. We know that the Cauldron loves Elain, so if her true mate was on the floor dying and there was no guarantee for survival it would make sense for the Cauldron to gift Elain another mating bond.

I will talk more about this in the section where I discuss them as a ship, but I wanted to briefly mention it here.

We also know the scene where Azriel hands over Truth-Teller to her, something that shocks all of them. I think of Truth-Teller like Azriel's security blanket. Something that brings him comfort and he never ever wants to part with it. But he gives it to Elain.

After she was taken by the Cauldron and held captive at Hybern's camp. After she says this:

"She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. "You came for me." The shadowsinger only inclined his head." ~ ACOWAR pg. 573

Why did she look only to Azriel? Why did she seem so surprised that he would come for her? Kind of like how a princess might not believe that her prince has come for her. (Love me some Disney princess movies)

To me these two just fit together. And to me they are more like Hades and Persephone than Feyre and Rhysand are. And hear me out: Elain as Persephone, goddess of spring. Azriel as Hades, god of death. (Feyre once calls him Death when thinking of a painting of him and Elain. Death and the lovely fawn she called it). Some might see Azriel and Elain falling in love as stealing her away from her mother (or mate in this case).

Also if you want another mythology reference. Paris (Azriel), Helen (Elain), Menelaus (Lucien). Helen was considered the most beautiful and was stolen away from her husband Menelaus (though I think she went with Paris willingly so there's that.)

I see so many parallels and signs that point toward an Elriel endgame. We know Elain's book is in the works and I'm pretty sure it's next since Sarah has talked about doing research for her book. We also know that Sarah is excited to work with Azriel as well.

Moving on.

Lucien Vanserra x Vassa

I've been shipping them since ACOWAR. So not as long as Elriel, but since a bit. I think this was the line that did it for me:

"Indeed, Vassa still remained inside, chatting with Lucien animatedly. *skipped ahead* Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened." ~ ACOWAR pg. 690

Unlike with Elain, he seems comfortable around Vassa.

"Even with Elain here, he's become close with Jurian and Vassa. He's voluntarily living with them these days, and not just as an emissary. As their friend." ~ ACOSF pg. 57

I'm a sucker for the friends to lovers trope (it only falls after the enemies to lovers trope). And while we do not have a lot on them I can see the two of them being happy. I can see Lucien trying to find a way to make her immortal if that's what she wants. And I just want the two of them finding their HEA together in the final book.

My theory is that Vassa will be the MC of the last book and will deliver the killing blow to Koschei (as she should). I would love to see their journey together and their time together in the mortal lands especially since the mating bond would be severed at this point if Elriel is the book before this one. I want Lucien to be happy and I think that he could be happy with Vassa.

Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra

We know that Elain and Lucien are mates. He announced this on page 608 a little bit after Elain had come out of the Cauldron. But these two do not seem to fit together in my opinion. Now please note I have nothing against Elucien, I even like some of the fanart and the theories I have read are wonderful. I'm just personally not a fan of these two because of how they were thrust together.

When comparing Jesiminda and Elain, Lucien says this:

"Elain had been... thrown at him." ACOWAR pg. 249

I know Lucien wants to be happy and I know mates are special, but I don't necessarily think that Elain will be his happiness. I think that the way they met ruined that for them.

"But Elain blinked slowly, "You were in Hybern." *Skipped ahead* "You betrayed us." ACOWAR pg. 250 - 251

Lucien, however willing or unwillingly, did play some part in Elain being turned Fae. He was one of the reasons she could no longer go home or marry Graysen. I don't know if that's something that could be overcome especially since Elain is still dealing with the events of that day.

We also know that Elain tends to avoid him, shrinking in on herself when he's around. Another reason why I can't ship this is because I've been in a similar situation where people were pressuring me to be with someone I had no interest in. I know what it's like to hear "you two are perfect for each other", "you should give him a chance", "just try".

Their relationship is not evolving naturally like Feyre and Rhys's did or Cassian and Nesta's. I don't think Lucien would ever push the mating bond onto Elain, but I do think since it's something special to Fae he may cling to it more than she will.

Another thing about their bond that doesn't sit with me is how it is described.

"It felt... strange," Elain breathed. "Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib." ACOWAR pg. 301

"There's a bond - it's a real thread," he said, more to himself than us." ACOWAR pg. 301

Other bonds have been described as "so much golden thread" or an "unbreakable chain". But Elain and Lucien's is described as a singular thread that feels as though it were attached to a rib. To me mating bonds are like soulmates, why would that bond be attached to a rib and not the heart or her being?

I believe that once again either the Cauldron created this bond between them or maybe they are not what's considered a "perfect match" like Elain's sisters with their mates are.

I will say this: If Elain and Lucien do wind up together I won't be mad. Sure they are not my preferred ship, but they both deserve happiness and can find it together then good for them. We will just have to wait and see where SJM takes them.

Azriel x Gwyn Berdara

I've lowkey been dreading talking about them because of how toxic this fanwar between Elriels and Gwynriels gets. Once again this is just my opinion and my theories. No hate or shade to any of the shippers. I will not be bashing theories. If you don't want to read my thoughts then please just leave now and pretend you never saw this.

I do not like Azriel and Gwyn as a ship for one very big reason: power imbalance. Azriel saved Gwyn from a highly traumatic experience. Now before I go any further let me say that I brought this up to my mom who also reads the series but isn't a shipper, she just reads them to enjoy them. I asked her what she thought of Az x Gwyn as a pairing and if she would like to see that and she said no that she also felt there would be a power imbalance.

Gwyn is a strong character, but I do not think I could get behind her and Az as a couple because of how they met.

I also do not believe that Gwyn will be the MC of any of the last books there are. We still have Elain's book, possibly a Mor book, or even Vassa. There are too many people from the original trilogy that we need to see books for. While I will not rule out a book in the future I don't see her getting one now.

I know the necklace is a hot button issue, but I also don't believe that Clotho gave it to her. We never hear it mentioned in the main portion of the book and I think Clotho knew how troubled Azriel was and thought that she should hold onto it just in case.

"You're the new ribbon, Az," ~ ACOSF pg. 623

Gwyn is a competitive person, to me this line that Nesta says is here merely telling Az that Gwyn's next challenge would be to prove him wrong about the training course. Nesta knows of Azriel's feelings for her sister by this point, so I don't see this line as her teasing Az about Gwyn possibly having a crush on him.

But again these are just how I interpret things between them.

These are all my thoughts at the moment that I'm going to share. If you would like to have a discussion my ask box is open. Hate will not be tolerated though.

#Elain Archeron #Elriel #Azriel #pro Elain Archeron #pro Azriel #pro Elriel #ACOTAR 5 #ACOTAR 5 predictions #ACOTAR theories

101 notes · View notes

tothemeadow · 3 years

Text

Commissioned by @tanjhero

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

- Being the Flame Pillar’s tsugoku is no easy task; saving his brother, however, proves to be something else entirely. -

warnings: mentions of blood, angst

words: 2.5k

Burning hearts, brilliant eyes, wishes that never come true. There’s almost something beautiful in sorrow, the slight glimpse of light in the vast darkness. To be a demon slayer, one must bury their heart. They have to hide it under lock and key, learn how to forget what crying feels like. You’ve always carried this ideology close to your heart ever since you started your training as a young adolescent.

Six years have then since passed, and the Final Selection is well behind you. Ragged scars cover your arms, chest, and back, all trophies from your brutal battles with blood-hungry beasts. Demons, to be precise; you see ragged, glinting teeth in the night, in the hours of the day when you’re finally allowed to dream. Whatever the reason, whatever the cause, these teeth seek to ravage you, to sink into your skin and rip your throat out.

The world is dark. You’ve long since grown cold, refusing to properly feel anything. To be emotional is to be distracted; if you wanted to survive, for others to survive, you cannot afford to deal with such interruptions. This is the very reason why your mentor – the gracious Flame Pillar himself, Rengoku Kyojuro – always struck you as odd. Like the sun itself, he’s full of light and eternal brightness.

You’ve never been more jealous of someone in your life.

You train by his side, let him whip you into proper shape. Being a tsugoku is no easy task; both mentally and physically draining, you’re often left scrambling for any sensation left in your numb fingertips. Although your body suffers from the constant thrum of pain, you are strong. You don’t take your strength lightly, and neither does your mentor.

As time and his persistent nature eat away at your skeptical brain cells, he’s more or less become a friend. Much to your initial displeasure, you allowed him to root himself to you. However, as you grew stronger, wiser, your heart did so as well. Kyojuro, this dear man, has cracked open the safe of your heart. With each rising sun, you envision him, his dazzling smile, his abnormal irises. It’s the first time in your life you’ve been blessed.

The days grow into something long and dark whenever you train with him. He doesn’t give up, refuses to let you to wipe away the sweat at your brow, keeps going and going until you’re a trembling mess at his feet. He’s to make a slayer of you yet.

Some days, you consider yourself lucky. Kyojuro is a soft man despite the hard cording of muscle covering his skeleton. Sometimes, his gaze melts into something akin to honey, dangerously sweet and tempting. He’ll call training off early, opting to massage your weakened muscles and guide you through breathing exercises. You don’t take these treatments lightly; after all, Kyojuro is a Pillar, a highly respected one at that. To have a pathetically weak tsugoku will only bring shame onto his namesake.

And, if he’s really in a giving mood, he’ll insist you spend the night at his residence.

Already well fed and bathed, you dismiss Kyojuro with a tight-lipped smile and a prayer for his safe return. He explained that he and his father were to travel into town and seek out the beloved liquor his father adores so much. Although his face is stoic, you can see the pain and disappointment in the depths of his eyes. Like himself, Rengoku Shinjuro is a man deserving respect – or at least used to be. Since the passing of his wife, he’s been drowning his sorrows (amongst all other emotion humanly possible) until he sees the bottom of the bottle.

You find solace in your room, wet hair unceremoniously thrown over your shoulder. Like your father and grandfather, you wear your hair long; the one true tradition that’s been passed down your bloodline for generations. Even as shorter hairstyles become widely accepted, your clan refused to do so, following the old rule of cutting hair once one was shunned. You lose yourself in thought, mindlessly combing through hair with a comb made out of bone.

It isn’t the first time you’ve stayed in the Rengoku household, but you always find yourself drawing hesitant. Kyojuro’s own room sits right down the hallway, a silent temptation that you never give into. To do so would be disrespectful to your kind mentor, even downright inappropriate. Mentor and tsugoku was a strictly former relation – nothing more. You’d be damned if you stepped out of line.

A slight knock at the door stirs your curiosity. Kyojuro and Shinjuro have yet to return from their shopping trip despite the sky being cloaked in an ominous purple. Instead, you’re greeted by Senjuro, Kyojuro’s younger brother. Like the other two – and the rest of the males in his bloodline – he sports the fire crackle hair, the robust eyes. The entire Rengoku clan has been blessed by the sun, by fire, since the beginning of time. You’re not good friends with Senjuro, by you’re way past the line of casual acquaintances.

You glance to the cheesecloth in his hands, your eyebrow raising itself in a silent question. Senjuro sends you a cheeky smile, though the edges are tinged with nervousness. It startles you just how much he resembles Kyojuro. As you beckon him to enter, you set your comb down and tell him to join you on the futon.

“Aniki and father aren’t back yet,” Senjuro tells you as he sits down. “And I figured… Well, maybe… If it was okay for us to hang out?”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. Senjuro’s always been like this, awkward yet exceptionally kind. As he unwraps the cheesecloth, you’re greeted by the sight of plump grapes and rice crackers.

“I know we already had dinner, but sometimes Aniki and I sit around with some snacks and talk about everything.” Senjuro’s smile grows at the mention of his brother; you find it extremely endearing. “And you’re always nice to me, so I thought that we could…” His sentence trails off into nothing and he worries his bottom lip.

You promptly pick a grape from the bunch and pop it into your mouth. Its sweet flavor erupts on your tongue and you hum in appreciation. “Thank you for the treat.”

The nervousness in Senjuro’s smile melts away. “I watched you and Aniki train earlier. You’re incredible,” he gushes. “It’s no wonder why you’re Aniki’s tsugoku!”

You wave off his compliment with a dismissive hand. “First you bring me food, then you flatter me; is there an ulterior motive to this?” you tease.

With a slight giggle, Senjuro shoves at your shoulder. “I just wanted to be in your company, that’s all.”

You find the gesture to be incredibly sweet. As you ponder on his words, you realize that Kyojuro must be busy all the time, attending to his work as a Pillar, and Shinjoru spends almost every waking moment getting drunk. “Look at you, being the charmer,” you throw his way. “You definitely take after your brother.”

Senjuro visibly perks up at your words. “Really? You think so?”

You chuckle at his excited response. “Yes, really. I think you’re going to grow up into a wonderful man, Senjuro-kun.”

His cheeks warm up at your praise. “I can see why Aniki likes you so much.”

The cracker you hold stops centimeters away from your mouth. You instinctively lower your hand. “What do you mean?”

Senjuro cocks his head to the side. “Oh, you mean you don’t know? Aniki’s had a crush on you for months.”

The cracker falls into your lap. “He what?”

Something snaps outside the screen door. The hairs on the back of your neck come to a sudden rise; the sharp smell of blood fills the air and your mind kicks into autopilot. Shoving Senjuro away, you quickly grab onto your blade as the door is ripped from its hinges, the sight of bright yellow eyes shining through the dark.

A demon.

“Shit,” you curse, shooting to a stand, drawing your blade from its sheath, and holding it out before you in a defensive stance.

The demon stalks into the room; its body is nothing short of massive, all flexing muscle the color of moss. His head easily brushes the ceiling as he draws himself to his full height, inky, greasy hair falling in his grotesque face. His nostrils twitch as though they’re following a scent. “Where is he?” he growls, his voice rumbling from deep within his chest. “Where is the Flame Pillar?”

Your grip on your blade tightens. While it’s fortunate that Kyojuro isn’t home, that means you’ll have to take out the demon and protect Senjuro at the same time. Maybe, just maybe, you can convince the creature to turn around and leave.

“My apologies,” you say, your voice brisk. “The one you seek isn’t here.”

The demon’s yellow eyes stare down at the blade in your hands. His lips pull back in a snarl, his razor-sharp fangs shining in the light. You sharply inhale at the sight, a slight spark of panic traveling down your spine. “Pathetic little slayer,” he hisses, “thinking you can stop me? I’ll rip your head off and drink straight from your neck.”

You shift your weight on your feet. “Senjuro, get out of here. Now.”

Behind you, Senjuro scrambles to his feet. You can hear him gulp, but you ignore the urge to turn around and see if he’s okay. “B-but what about…”

“Get your brother. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

With another drawn out growl, the demon lowers itself, ready to pounce.

“Run!”

A large flash of green fills your vision and you hastily swing your sword. The battle you engage in is fierce, intense, too quick to be seen by the naked eye. Your body twirls and evades the monstrous demon’s attacks, bouncing off the walls and slithering between his legs.

You don’t necessarily realize it as you move the fight outside, the night’s breeze carrying your hair and whipping it into your face. Biting back a curse, you jump backwards just in time for a clawed hand to slash at the space where you previously stood.

“I will kill you!” the demon roars.

“Breath of Ashes: Shimmering Coal!” you cry out. In a great, fantastic arc, your blade grows to an unbearably hot temperature as you slice through the demon’s chest.

He screams in agony at the searing pain, reeling back and clutching at his chest. His eyes scream murder as he charges you; this time, though, you aren’t so lucky. Your back makes a sickening snap noise as you’re thrown into a nearby tree. Struggling for breath, you quickly get back up, charging at the demon again.

Time is lost. A faint hint at a new moon fills the sky; the only light comes from the inside of your room, leaving you in almost complete darkness. Your movements are bold, swift, straight to the point; you slash and strike at the demon, landing devastating blows, but his neck is too thick. You curse and howl in pain as claws rip at your sides, your arms, your face; blood openly flows down your face and the rest of your body, soaking the material of your torn yukata.

You groan from your spot on the ground; the coppery taste of blood coats your tongue, the back of your throat. Struggling to sit up, your fingers claw into the grass and dirt as you fight off the wave of nausea. It can’t end like this – you can’t end like this. You refuse to give up, to die. Even if this demon spills your guts, you’ll slice off his head and take him to hell with you.

Black fills the outer rims of your vision. There’s a harsh ringing in your ears, ready to steal your hearing away from you. Death is creeping up onto your doorstep, waiting, just waiting for you to answer.

There’s a cry of your name and a swirl of flames. Kyojuro comes seemingly out of nowhere; a war cry spills from his lips as he swings his blade and brings it down on the demon’s neck. Although he’s incredibly fast, your trained eyes follow his every move. The muscles in his back flex as he slices the demon’s head clean off. The demon releases an animalistic sound, spittle flying from his mouth as his head lands nearby.

“Fuck you, Flame Pillar! I’ll see you in hell!” he screeches before his head turns into dust.

A ragged breath punches its way out of your lungs as you slump back onto the ground. Kyojuro rushes to your side, worry etched into his features. You see his mouth move, but you can barely hear the words tumbling out. He gingerly slides his arms under you and picks you up, holding you close to his chest. The rest of the world passes by in a blur as he carries you back inside, instead of stopping in your room, however, he continues all the way to his room.

“Can you hear me?” his voice filters into your mind. You nod your head and groan as he places you onto his bed. “Gods, (y/n),” he breathes, pushing the damp strands out of your face. He gulps at the sheer amount of blood coating your face. “Hang on,” he tells you.

Rising from the bed, he fetches an abundance of medical supplies and gets to work at cleaning you up. Both his eyes and movements are gentle as he wipes away the blood, revealing your exhausted face. As he removes your yukata, he averts his gaze and hastily covers your privates up before working at your exposed arms and stomach.

“To do what you did,” he starts, his voice hoarse. He sounds suspiciously close to crying. “You saved him. You saved Senjuro.” His voice shakes as his hands begin to tremble. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Flicking your eyes to him, you notice how he’s biting hard onto his lip, desperate to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never seen such a pained look on his face a day in your life. His eyes shift between the two of yours, tears welling up and clouding the surface. Your heart jumps to your throat.

“You saved my baby brother,” he spews. Tears rush down his handsome face. “You risked your life to save him. It’s just… I…” He frantically rubs at his eyes with a sleeve. “I didn’t want to lose you, too.” Despite his tears, Kyojuro manages a tiny smile. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if you died,” he confesses.

“Kyojuro-san…?” you croak.

Taking your hands in his, he swiftly brings them to his lips and presses kisses to your knuckles. “I was so scared.” He frantically shakes his head. “I couldn’t live with myself if you died.” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence. “You see… I- I love you, (y/n).”

Your breath stills in your throat. He… He loves you? Rengoku Kyojuro, a man blessed by the gods themselves, loves you.

Leaning down, he gently presses his forehead to yours. “I love you with my very being,” he mutters. “And to know that you’ve saved Senjuro… It makes me love you even more.”

Before you have time to register it, your hands link around his neck. This man was the one to melt the ice surrounding your heart; he was the one to make you feel again. You smile weakly at him. “Kyojuro-san… I… I love you, too.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku senjuro #kyojuro rengoku #senjuro kyojuro #kny kyojuro #kny senjuro #rengoku brothers #commission #tanjhero

502 notes · View notes

i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years

Text

Diary found in K---D--- : Part 2

So, here's the next little part of this :D

Imagine by @lathalea is indented!

Enjoy <3

Taglist: @shrimpsthings, @mulasawala (so you see where I'm going with this lol)

(Yes, there will be MORE artwork coming, stay posted...)

Fandom: Hobbit

Characters: Ori x OC

Rating & Warning: Fluff and silliness

His name was Ori and he was a scribe in Erebor. It turned out he visited the forest often to sketch the animals and plants. You spent the rest of the day together. In the evening, you exchanged campfire stories, sharing a meal. At one point, he shyly asked about where you came from. Blushing, he admitted, almost whispering, he never saw a person with such beautiful hair before.

You told him that you came from another world, from a region called East Asia, where many people looked similarly to you. He was very curious about your homeland, your culture and your world. You spent hours telling him everything about it and he listened to you in awe.

“Ori.” He replied, his lips quirking a tiny bit as if he was not used to speaking his own name. “I’m a scribe. In Erebor. The Mountain.” He pointed to a tree beyond the clearing.

Thankfully, I was familiar with the Lonely Mountain and did not think that he didn’t know the difference between a living organism and a pile of minerals.

“I have never seen you, neither here nor in that Mountain.” I replied, for I went into the halls sometimes to translate for travellers, but for the most part, I let the king be his grumpy, glorious self.

“I come here often, to sketch, but I seem to have lost my way.” He admitted with a tiny frown. Ah, a real dwarf. They only knew up and down seemingly and if there was no way into a hill, they’d stubbornly trek up until they tumbled off the other side again.

As if to prove to me that he was not lying – dear reader, he had a face that was utterly devoid of malice or dissimulation – he showed me rather good sketches of the fauna and flora of the dense forest surrounding us. “That is really good, Ori, the scribe, from under the Mountain.” I commented which made him blush with a fierce and, apparently, unexpected pleasure.

In an expression of indescribable cuteness, he literally wiped his face with his sleeve as if he could clean away the rosy hue like a stubborn ink stain from under his skin.

“What are you here for?” He then asked, pushing out his chest heroically. As a reminder, he was the one who had lost his way, but apparently, he wanted to defend either the forest from me or the other way around.

“I am here to think…in silence.” I replied; he retreated a few steps. “Oh? I’ll leave you to it then, I guess. It was great to make your acquaintance…”

I gave him my name, after all, he had given me his, and he chewed on it for a few moments before his face split into a smile that was like the sunlight breaking through the cloudy afternoon sky: tentative, warm, and strikingly beautiful.

“Stay. I like your face.” I heard myself saying. Maybe, it was my teasing, mischievous streak acting up, but I had liked his embarrassment so much that I couldn’t help wanting to coax more of these blushes out of him.

“My…face?” In that weird dance he had been engaged in for the last few minutes, Ori stepped closer again, shuffling his feet in the heavy boots dwarrows insisted on wearing.

No, your ass, I thought, but bit my tongue; Ori the dwarf looked like someone who would die on the spot if I said anything even remotely inappropriate…as I was wont to do when nervous.

My sarcastic thought spurred my own interest though and I examined him a little closer: he was indeed swaddled like a babe, beads of sweat pearling down his temples on account of the steep climb and the stubborn blush powdering his nose and cheeks with pink blotches.

“Sit down, you’ll get a heat stroke.” I invited him and pointed to a patch of moss beside me while rummaging in my pack for the flask of ale I had brought.

“Thank you ever so much.” He plopped down in a cascade of earthen-coloured wool and awkward limbs. He did smell warm, I noticed, a blend of cinnamon and comfort.

Also, he had one of those faces that only became better when seen up-close, I admit freely; there were golden stars dancing in the depth of his dark eyes and he had the most adorable freckles as if some outlandish fairy had sprinkled gold dust over that heart-wrenchingly handsome face.

“Are you thirsty, Mistress?” He asked, nodding at the flask in my hand.

Handing it to him rather abruptly, I realised that I had spent the last moments intently staring at his face as if I had never seen a male dwarf before in my life.

“I have work to do.” I snapped, feeling immediately guilty for taking my own embarrassment out on him, but he merely nodded and pulled his sketching supplies into his lap.

Strangely enough, Ori did not disturb me. If anything, the silence felt fuller, richer, deeper with him by my side. As I translated a letter, as a spinster I had to support my family and my insufferable sisters as best as I could, I felt like the chirping of the birds and the vibrancy of the colours around me were even more enjoyable now that I shared them with someone else.

…

The sun crept along its never-changing arc slowly and yet, much too fast.

As I looked up, I wished I was a better painter myself, for this dwarrow was made for sunsets.

The way the last golden hurrah of a perfect day exploded in a halo of warmth around his figure, the way all the greys and the blues seemed to bleed out of the world to leave nothing but warm tones behind, and the way his smile was the perfect expression of this mellow, unhurried mood…it struck me deeper and more violently than a thunderstorm in all its booming rage would have.

“Will you join me for dinner, Ori?” I asked gently, “I shall escort you back down.”

“It would be my honour.” He nodded, tearing out a page of his notebook and handing it over.

“It was an invitation; I do not demand payment.” I said seriously, for the sketch of the doe was so good, it might have been worth actual money. “Oh…” His nose crinkled at little at that.

“I wanted you to…have something beautiful. I have seen you work very hard.”

Of course, he was a scribe as well, he would consider the scribbling work, I thought and gave him a thankful smile. “You’re beauty enough for one day.” I shrugged.

He gasped, bringing his notebook up to his face as if to shield himself from my words.

“You’re having me on, aren’t you? Dori has warned me that girls do that sometimes.” He sounded utterly dejected. “I am not having you on. Has nobody ever told you that you’re handsome?” It was my turn to be wide-eyed with shock.

“And who is Dori?” I followed-up when he didn’t really reply to my question even though I thought I had seen his braids move like strings of pearls in a draft. The minutest of shakes of the head, a quiet admission of inadequacy that sunk ugly, ragged claws into my soft heart.

“He’s my brother. I have two of them. Dori…and Nori. They’re…” – “Older than you.” I completed. “Protective.” He supplied.

He was still holding his drawing out to me, and, after a moment, I took it gingerly and put it between the pages of my own writing supplies. I would hang it in my room and look at it daily.

Nowadays, there were but very few gifts for me; all the money went to my two younger sisters who were still nubile and would, if Mahal willed it so, be able to make a good match.

Busying my hands with making a fire, I asked him to tell me about his brothers.

“Oh, Nori is…agile. He’s…funny and brave and resourceful.” Ori started, his voice warm with affection and admiration. He sounded like a proper rogue to me, and as it turned out, he was, but he also deserved every single ounce of the deep-felt care Ori held for him.

“Dori is…fussy. He’s polite, he’s very caring, and he’s exceedingly proper.” Ori went on as I waved a hand for him not to stop. I enjoyed hearing about the life of other families than my own.

“So, is he the one who raised you to be this…warmly clad and gentle?” I asked, turning to place the foodstuffs I had brought up and stored in the cool lake water on spits to roast over the fire.

“Warm? Oh yes…I was a sickly pebble and he’s been worried ever since. I hope I have behaved in a way that would not make him disappointed in me.” Again, he worried his lip.

“Let’s see, you’ve startled a bird and an unsuspecting dwarrowdam.” I listed with a wicked gleam in my eyes; his face fell, and he looked properly guilty.

“Then, you’ve kept me company, and the best company I’ve ever had, it has been, on my grandmother’s grave, I swear.” I went on and that treacherous blush was back with a vengeance.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He then said in a low voice. “Great beauty is always startling.”

“I am hardly Thorin Oakenshield.” He laughed. Readers, you cannot imagine that sound just by reading my words. If flowers blossoming had melody, if the sun setting on the eternal sea had a song, if autumn leaves dancing on a gale had a tune, they would have sounded like nails on scree, like cats having their tails trampled, and like kettles going unheeded compared to Ori’s laughter.

“There’s beauty in the doe as much as in the wolf.” I replied gently.

“May I…can I ask where you’re from? I don’t seek to be rude, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like you; your hair looks like those fabrics the Elves weave. It…seems so soft, so liquid, so smooth.” He blushed a darker shade yet.

This might well have been the first time that someone had asked me about my origins without making it sound like an accusation; there was honest fascination in his demeanour.

“My family and I have come from the Far East. I have travelled a lot, Ori, I have seen landscapes entirely made up of rock and sand, I have walked forests so stiflingly hot and moist it felt like being underwater, and now, I am here in the land of tall trees and taller mountains.”

I said, surprised by my own frankness.

“That sounds amazing.” He took the food I offered readily enough, and I told him about the people I’ve left behind to be stranded at the other end of the world.

“This is good, is that a recipe of your homeland?” He asked, looking down on the piece of meat I had seasoned with herbs I had grown myself in our small backyard.

“It actually is. I’m glad you like it. I had not planned to have company, otherwise I’d have brought something more palatable to the local tongue.” I apologised quickly.

“No, I like it. You should definitely trade some recipes with Dori…and Bombur…oh, and if any of your delicious herbs are medicinal, Óin.” He laughed again when he saw my dumbfounded expression.

“I make a good honeycake, if I can interest you in that? Maybe…” He fell back into silence.

…

A look at the sky told me that it was too late to go down in the inky darkness.

“We’ll have to stay here for the night.” I mumbled, slightly uncomfortable at the idea of spending the night with a dwarrow who had not lost a single word about a wife.

“Are you married, Mistress? Will that endanger your wedlock?” He asked shyly.

“No, I am not and I have no name to lose…It’s a long story.” I didn’t feel like blurting out my disgrace, lest it give him strange ideas after all, especially as he would easily have been able to overpower me if he so chose.

“Neither am I. I don’t know about my name…Doesn’t look like I’m going to be married either. There’s not enough dwarrowdams as it is, and I think the royal line has a prerogative there.” There was no resentment in his tone; he seemed to accept this as a fact.

How could someone that sweet not be married, I wondered. He was courteous, he was cute, and he would have made the fortune and happiness of someone.

“Well, in that case, I think we can risk our reputation rather than our necks.” I grinned, rolling out a blanket I kept tied to my pack for emergencies and stretched out next to the fire on the moss.

“Erm, yes…Good night…” He mumbled, fidgeting around with his different layers of clothing. Apparently, he was deciding which one he needed least on his body to use it as a bedroll or blanket.

I eyed the proceedings with interest and a good deal of amusement.

“I can offer you my cloak to lie upon…the ground will grow very cold and wet soon.” He said in a low voice, not sure if I had already fallen asleep or not.

“Alright, I can offer you a spot under the blanket then?” I extended my own graciousness.

“With you?” No, with the red bird, I thought, rolling my eyes internally.

“Yes, Ori the scribe, with me. I will not eat you, as you have witnessed, I have had dinner.” Not that he did not look good enough to devour, standing there with his cloak in his hands and his face all crunched up in embarrassment.

“Hmmm…I guess.” He muttered doubtfully, spreading out the cloak and sitting down on it carefully. Impatiently, I scooted over and spread my lousy blanket over the both of us with a flourish.

“Sleep!” I commanded as I turned around only to find him staring wide-eyed at the spot where the back of my head had been only a second ago. Now that he was presented with my face, only inches away from his, his eyes grew even rounder and bigger in wordless distress.

“Friend…Have you never lain with a woman? And I literally mean, lying next to one?” I laughed for there had been friends and cousins aplenty in my own life and the feeling of having another body so close to mine was not a new experience for me.

“Well, I fell down on the battlefield once, next to a foe…I’m pretty sure that was a Lady-Orc. She was dead. There was a…” He gestured, indicating a spear or a lance sticking out of his chest and brushing against my own with the back of his hand. Dear reader, he flinched back as if I was a tiny Durin’s bane wreathed in flames.

“A Lady-Orc, indeed…” I mused; no doubt, he could hear the smile I hid in my voice for his face crunched up in embarrassment.

“I am sorry.” He sighed, rolling his eyes, and thinking – there was not a shadow of a doubt about that much – of his brothers who would have mocked him mercilessly for his stammering.

“There’s no need to be sorry” I tried to reassure him, but I admit now that there were things that I did not tell him right away then. We had only just met, and he was blessedly unaware of my shameful past.

How could I have made him understand – without hurting his feelings – how much I enjoyed that air of purity about him that I had squandered myself on an undeserving fiend? As a daughter amongst others, I had been used to dwarrows coming to court or to seduce, their eyes ablaze with greed and their hands wandering.

He would not have comprehended how much the absence of that voracious hunger that had plagued my youth and had ended up destroying my promising future meant to me.

“Sleep.” I repeated, unable to put into words how miraculous and precious the things he seemed to be most ashamed of were to me.

“Good night, Mistress.” He breathed with a soft smile that was nowhere near the wolfish baring of fangs I was used to and so, it was easy to return it.

You who may or may not have stumbled upon this ludicrous account of the most important story in an otherwise unimportant life, you shall hear another confession I did not make at the time.

I was fiercely aware that – had I but leant forward a little – I might have pressed my lips upon his; I was young still at that time and, despite what had happened, parts of me, that should have withered and died in the aftermath of my botched engagement, were much alive.

He smelled like our dinner and warmth, and the gentle reticence of the curve of his smile was more inviting than any flashing grin I had ever seen before.

Yes, in that very moment, on this very first evening, I had already been conscious of the shrewd attraction this self-effacing dwarrow held for me…and it scared me half to death.

…

Part 3

#Fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ori the dwarf #Ori #OC #Fluff #Diary #1st person

21 notes · View notes

blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Brother Dearest Pt 49

“I brought you something I think you will like,” Edie said in Polish with a smile that spread to your face as well in curiosity. From a new suitcase she settled on the table in the living room where she had found you at Eddie’s insistence you stay on the couch and relax that drew you to scoot forward and eye the folded fabric inside the case. “There is a good bit of fabric available in the markets, some less bold than some may care for on a fashion stance, however these will all be quite lovely for what is intended.”

“Intended?” You asked yourself with eyes shifting to Erik carrying a sewing machine table he settled along the wall until a better home for the crafting could be found. “Oh, for my maternity clothes.”

She nodded and said in a show of some sketches she pulled out as well, “I believe these will suit what you had mentioned in your letters. We wore clothes similar to these when working in our gardens in the town we grew up in, both with shorts and long pant legs to suit your needs.” The overall pattern had you look over their every detail to see how you would be able to put them on.

“And how would you secure them?”

To a set of buttons on the front she pointed to the neckline just under the straps with a few that have tie up straps as well with a ribbon above the belly to help support the top. Each which would be forgiving the larger you got and by use of old newspapers patterns were made up that you helped to pin onto the fabrics to cut out while Edie would stitch together. Buttons easily you could add from the supply she had brought. Though each and every shift of the needle through the fabric had your eyes fall on your bare ring finger now too far swollen to force the engagement ring and wedding band that now sat upstairs after a teary failed thought to keep them on your necklace weeks prior. Nearly four months gone and about a half of what a single baby carrying mother would be the size of, far from large and still it seemed your body wanted to play puffer fish once given the excuse to after years of starvation and exhaustion.

Edie having caught your stare on her way to add another pair to the pile on the table said with a kind smile, “Swollen fingers are a common symptom.”

That had you look up and shake your head with a smile, “I know. Norma and Dawn both wore theirs on a chain.” To the drop of a tear down your cheek you fanned your face mid giggle with a folded bit of the pattern beside you, “Ugh, crocodile tears.”

She shook her head and said, “Not bad tears at all. The changes are hard to adjust to. When is the Doctor coming?”

“Oh, he has some patients and such and will see me after the New Years.” Teddy mid giggle tottered through the room making you bring the pair with the needle still in it close to your chest and away from him, “Ooh, careful,” you said eyeing his path with Olive and Pepper after him. Whiskers however came in next to hop up beside you avoiding the chill that came in from James and Victor’s return. Norma had joined Dawn in their day with her family while Eddie focused on the paper. Between the brothers however your eyes fell on David in his bashful smile of an entrance to the sound of Erik’s chuckle to Teddy’s finding him in his turn to hide. “Hey David.”

“Hello. How is our lovely invalid.” That had you scoff and him chuckle, “I kid.” Timidly he came closer and asked, “I hope you don’t mind I was a bit curious once I heard you are carrying three babies. How are you feeling?”

“Oh,” you let out a breath, “Not bad. Hungry, always, and I sleep like a bear as much as I can. When the room doesn’t flip on me that is.” He gestured his hand to your side and you nodded moving a set of the patterns to Edie’s gentle acceptance of the pair in your hands to finish that button to Victor’s lift of one of the completed pairs of overall shorts.

David said to his glance at your belly, “Your babies seem to be growing well.”

“Yes,” you said in a settle of your hands on top of the belly visible in the settle of your hands on top of your sweater that had helped to mask its full size at least a little. “Certainly growing while I puff up like a scared cat.”

To that he smirked and accepted your settle of his hand on your belly he’d been afraid to touch that widened in the feel of just how round it was. “No movement yet?”

“Not yet, thought there was a kick yesterday but then my stomach made this awful gurgle noise.”

James chuckled to Victor’s stating, “Then we had to open a window as the stew we made came back with a vengeance. Last time we risk basil for Pipsqueak.”

“I said I was sorry,” you said and he shook his head mid chuckle to James’ settle beside you on the couch.

James said with a smile, “No apologies, been meaning to scrub the tile in that bathroom for a while now. Usually it’s Vic that gets sick in there.”

“It smelled so good too, which is the weird part.” You said and glanced at David who had a puzzled look on his face in a reach for your wrist which showed you didn’t have a pulse. “Sorry, ya, it’s one of my, things, Doctors can’t hear my heartbeat or lungs or the babies unless I link minds with them. Don’t know why.”

In the meet of your eyes a ring of silver flashed in his to match the silver dots in yours and his eyes lowered to your wrist now at the feel of the pulse and trio of heartbeats he heard through his contact with your belly. To a disbelieving scoff he looked up again to catch your eye in the dim of the ring of silver in his eyes and the spots in yours. “You are a marvel.” That had you grin and settle your hands on your belly and follow his gaze to the next pair of long pants pair of overalls. “What are those?”

“Pants I can wear instead of a tent.” That had him smirk your way and you said, “At this rate I’d need something huge to cover my belly and the skirts no doubt would get caught or folded up and flash my backside each time I stand up if they fold the wrong way.” To that he chuckled and settled in to the accepted social break to spice up your day in the first week so far that the town had been limiting to one or two visits a day in turns having all been filled in just how pregnant and likely to need of rest you were. “Plus the shorts should help in the late spring when it gets warm.”

David, “Well I am certain that you will be amply comfy in them.”

“Yes, and if the other ladies have a problem with it I’ll just start to cry and they will feel bad and never bring it up again.” You teased making the group chuckle in relief at your good mood. Daisy soon enough came to tag along on David’s visit and also drove him back to his office in time for his next appointment with ample news to pass on through the town of your high spirits in your cozy abode to wait out the next round of snow that was on its way by morning.

Alone now in the living room to the side you shifted with pillows adjusted for comfort and sighs galore on another glance to the stack of books you had finished from the daily supply our of the crate they had bought from second hand shop in Alberta they had been rationed to keep you distracted. Within ten minutes however on the way back from a bathroom break James in his arrival to feed the fire spotted you mid pace with hands on your hips from one end of the room to the next to simply have some movement for this cramped up day. “Restless or do you need a back rub?” He hummed in the bend to toss another couple logs on the fire from the log room they had stocked the day they had arrived.

“Oh,” you sighed out in another turn towards his end of the room, “Little bit of both.” That had him chuckle and smile to the slight blush on your cheeks. Still a bit embarrassed from the fumble of a try to be intimate the night before you’d ended up flustered and just curled up in his arms after the sensitive gag reflex of yours had struck again in a try to pay your ever so attentive husband some well deserved amorous attentions that shot that dead right there in almost getting sick on him.

Right up to you he strolled and across your back in his stop in your path he hummed, “I love you, let me rub your back.”

“You always rub my back,” you just about whined making him chuckle again.

And he leaned in to press his lips to your forehead that was next met by his, “And I will rub it again, as often as you like until my hands fall off and have to grow back and then I will rub it again. And as far as your attentions to me I love you and babies can make our nights in a bit awkward but never less than spectacular each time.”

Your head pulled back and you said, “I almost got sick on you last night.”

“And it was spectacular,” that had you roll your eyes and he hugged you to his chest with a kiss to the top of your head, “I got to hold you all night, pretty spectacular on its own just to be yours. The impossible love of mine who is growing our babies. How could I ever not love a moment with you?” He kissed your forehead again then stepped back, “Which reminds me.” Your brow arched up and to the mantle he went where you eyed the ring box he carried back to you.

Your lips parted as you said, “James you did not buy me jewelry!”

Lowly he chuckled and opened the box that had you gasp, “My wife cannot wear her wedding rings and is very upset about that.”

“James I’m a puffer fish!” you said with eyes on his again.

He shook his head, “No you are not. And these are sized for your finger now.” You huffed and could only watch his lift of your hand to glide the eternity band of diamond sideways hearts in white gold settings that sat perfectly at the base of the finger with the new engagement ring on after. The latter that had a large rectangular diamond surrounded by two square diamonds on a white gold band which settled next in an awe strike of a pair you didn’t expect. When your eyes met again he’d lifted the hand to kiss the knuckles beside the new duo and he said, “It hurt you not being able to wear your rings. Got you these when I saw your difficulty with your rings last month.”

“Last month?”

He nodded and said with a smile, “And I even dropped them by Father Thomas, he loved the chance to bless the rings for us so you can have a symbol of our marriage you won’t have to wear around your neck. So no tears or arguments.” He said in a stroke of his thumbs across your cheeks to wipe away the tears that had fallen after having tossed the box to one of the chairs, “Because if your fingers do grow again I’ll just buy another set.”

Laced with a sniffle you chuckled and reached up to cup his cheeks for a kiss he melted into completely ignorant of the tears that fell over his thumbs and end of his nose in the lingered first kiss and five hungry pecks afterwards that broke in his chuckle and move to wipe your cheeks again. “Now, let’s rub your back,” he said guiding you to the couch where he settled you comfortably sideways and carefully settled behind you, careful not to bother your back with a heavy plop. And in the gentle start to a backrub where he asked, “Do you like the rings? Apparently it is much harder than it is here to have jewelers in New York to design rings how you want them.”

That had you chuckle and say, “No, they like to keep a hard hand on the diamonds thanks to what they have to pay to keep them safe in the shops.” That had his eyes on you and you giggled, “The big Italian families mainly control diamonds. How much they charge you?”

“Seemed they wanted to charge me more till one of the old guys in the back said something to the salesman.”

“Ah, you must have gone to Grigor’s then.” His brow arched up and you said, “Mom treated his son in the hospital, kept the Doctors from ignoring one of his symptoms that could have killed him and he let her pick a pair of earrings as thanks. He likes to wave when I go by and ask how I am, always has since I started to head to museums alone.”

“How’s his son?”

“Down in Spain? I think, or Jamaica, required a tropical climate for his lungs. Has five kids though his wife just moved back last spring to be with her parents so he’s happy to meet the brood.”

“He must be upset to be away from his kids and wife.”

“Eh,” you said with a tilt of your head that had his hands pause to adjust again, “Not very. From what I hear he’s got a bit of a harem and she stuck it out until she could raise funds to fly home. Whispers are he caught something in his harem and he’s not got long.”

“See, brothels never mean well,” making you grin to yourself and steal another peek at the rings. “So was that a no that you don’t like the rings?”

“The rings are beautiful. Thank you.”

“Almost got laughed out of the shop for the hearts till the old man stepped in.”

“Yes, ovals or tears are more common as rare shapes nowadays. Rarely hear of hearts.”

Erik with a poke of his head in the room asked, “Did you want your pear now, Bunny?”

“Sure,” he nodded and popped out to come back with a pear in hand and smile eyeing your new rings above your belly you were stroking again. “Thank you,” you said in accepting the pear while he sat down and claimed your left hand.

“Very lovely choices. And impressive to show off when you get back to school.”

“Oh yes, may just distract from my belly. Be the size of a hippo soon enough.”

Erik shushed you and gave your belly a gentle stroke, “Don’t you worry on that you just keep growing little ones. Nice and healthy until it’s time for us to hold you and give your brave mother a good rest.”

All you could do was smile and lift the pear for a bite that had his smile grow in the clear elated change to the trio who soaked in all they could from the treasured fruit that was fueling their health as well as their mother’s.

“Hello sister,” Venom said on your easy stroll down the cold steps with hand on your belly in a hope for some cocoa and a grilled cheese to lull you back to sleep. On his next stroll across the room he had been pacing from side to side on you took notice of Marigold in his palm laid against his chest clearly in a means to let her parents rest from her usual fussy manner.

“Hello Venom, Goldie not sleeping again?” You asked releasing the stair railing to enter the warm room lit by the fire he had been feeding to keep the house warm for the animals and the usual nightly pacing you now had joined in on.

“Our little one is merely growing. The quiet winter has done her good.” He said in a turn to join you to the kitchen. “How are sister’s little ones?”

“Good, heartbeats are strong, they feel to be growing. No movement yet. Can you hear them too?”

“Venom can feel them,” he said with eyes that met yours in a glance up from the kettle you were filling. “Similar to how you feel heartbeats. They are why Venom cannot crawl on his Sister as he used to, would only cause them pain. For now Venom will ensure none harm his Sister and her little ones.”

“According to Elliot and Herc I could still blast some people a few hundred yards away if need be. And if I could urge myself to.”

Lowly Venom chuckled and replied, “Fear is a worthy hindrance with little ones. You are strong even in your fears.” Softly you sighed in a move to set the kettle on the burner you switched on for it. “However we do not carry the little ones. Far easier for us to say fear is worthy when a Mother’s fear is insurmountable.” Your eyes met his in your move to gather the bread, cheese and butter to go with the skillet you lowered from the hook it hung from to the cool burner for when the kettle was through boiling. “Your fear could cripple others, your pain could drive others to madness and despair. Venom has the best Sister, and her little ones will have the best mother. Eddie has shown Venom how Sister was mothered before Sarah grew sick and our Teddy is proof mothering is natural to you.”

“Still have to get the trio ready to be mothered. Have you read midwife manuals?”

“Sister is no fleshling. This birth will be the hardest merely for fear. We are here. Venom will help with any pain once the little ones are born.”

“There’s no medicine they can give me that could do more than a second of relief.”

“Pain is always there. We cannot protect Sister from pain. But Venom will be here with Eddie at your side. Sister saved our son we will protect your daughters.”

To his words your hands smoothed over your belly asking, “They do sound like girls don’t they? Fast heartbeats.”

James’ voice in his entrance however turned your head to his smiling self looking you over in his sweater, baggy flannels and thick fuzzy socks in your moccasin slippers with hair halfway slipped from the braid he helped you with hours prior. “Good, more girls the merrier.”

From the door he came over and sweetly pressed a kiss to your lips in a single move trading the kettle for the skillet to handle the grilled cheese for you. “Do you want some cocoa? I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. Vic is on the roof making goat noises again,” that had you giggle and he said, “Cocoa would be lovely, thank you,” he said watching you mix up the cocoa powder and water that you added some milk to even the taste out then stared at the empty spot where the marshmallows usually sat in one of the cupboards. “Vic bought more marshmallows two days ago. Should be in there.”

Instead of the marshmallows you eyed the new pack of gravy mix that turned you to the pantry for the duo to watch your search end with a trade of the mix and a new bag of marshmallows. “Guess Petal distracted Kitty.” The corner was split and an amusing amount was added to both mugs after the second confirming glance that Venom did not want mug himself but did accept a couple marshmallows you floated his way he snapped up then kissed his daughter’s head in her grumble to the jerk of the muscle under her head.

James while you clipped the bag and put it back in its proper home asked, “Any thoughts for names yet?”

“Not any traditional ones,” you said after a brief sip on the drink that had you put a hand on the counter to the same feel of another small flutter you felt to the trio’s heartbeats changing as they do every meal to soak up more nutrients to grow stronger.

“My Xander was named after King Alexander, Vic pulled names from records we read on Spartan Queens and Kings. The world all got the big filmed wedding broadcast all around the world, screw the whispers traditional is out the window. What names did you want? I know you’ve already picked full names.”

Venom said, “At least share the inspiration, surely the stars will whisper their names into infamy.”

“I actually picked star inspired names.”

James smiled as the bread toasted in the buttered skillet, “Even better, spill, three names. Go.”

“Aurora Nyx,”

James, “Ooh, love it already. Next name?”

“Belinda Rhea.”

Venom, “Both stunning views Venom passed to find Eddie.”

You nodded and said in James’ glance your way to encourage you to continue, “Nova Carina.”

James, “Perfect names.”

You nodded then said, “I also like Rigel Nash,” you said making him smirk at the clear boy’s name. “Just in case.”

To himself he chuckled in your next sip then hummed, “All incredible names, girls or boys they will be more than treasured.”

You nodded then asked, “For last names?”

“Pear Howlett,” he answered without a pause then glanced your way in turning the sandwich over, “The family name. Vic is going flowers for their girls as is Dawn and Eddie so let’s go stars for our munchkins.” One sandwich was finished followed by another that you ate and finished off with your cocoa before it was time to head back upstairs to the bed still warmed by the fire James had fed on his way down to find his cuddle partner who had gone missing while he slept.

1948. New Years came with a crash, literally, from your hand the mug you had intended to fill with tea fell to the floor and shattered to pieces. Loudly Teddy gasped and his hands at his sides rose in terrified fists to your hunch forward. From the table a chair slid over by your mental pull and both knees settled on the seat to the child’s call, “Daddy!!” Forward onto the back of the chair you leaned with forehead on the hands clutching the wood to ground yourself while the men already on their feet by the break of the mug raced to the kitchen.

Once in the doorway they saw you lost to the sudden shift that you felt of the room that required you to get off your feet as soon as possible. “My Bunny?” Teddy whimpered in a pat of his hands on your bent leg closest to him that had your hand lower to land on his hands for a comforting pat.

“I’m ok, Teddy.” You panted out.

“Jaqi?” James murmured in his ease behind you while Victor got to picking up the mug pieces Teddy had stepped around. His hand however on your side with the hand from the pat on Teddy’s yours moved it to the now actively shifting belly that dropped his jaw. “They’re kicking!” he exclaimed with tears pooling into his eyes mid spread of his ridiculous grin in his second hand moving to your belly.

“Kicking,” you sighed out and lifted your head to hold onto the chair in the lift of your head with an eye roll to follow. “Full on attack at once,” you added in Eddie’s teary eyed crouch to lift Teddy to help his toe top failed reach for your belly.

Erik now in the room moved to the oven saying at the whistle of the kettle, “I’ll fix up your tea, Bunny.”

Dawn and Norma followed Edie to join the others who circled around you with turns in placing their hands for feels of the active belly that was enough a shock to put you off balance. “Thank you Erik,” to the table James and Victor carried the chair you were on and helped you to turn around and settle in until the snack they fixed up for you was completed then you were moved back to the couch once you had steadied in their relax again.

In all the excitement to the best of your abilities Teddy was filled in to how the babies you were carrying now that they were big enough had chosen to stretch at once in a move that had made you a bit off balance. That however had his brows adorably furrow and in a glare and point to your belly he said to your girls, “You be nice to my Bunny. Or you’ll be in big trouble.”

Up into your side you lifted him for a welcome nestling hug and kiss to his forehead as you said, “Thank you Teddy Bear,” to the others’ wide adoring smiles in the moment that Victor captured with your camera.

Morning came soon enough with noon shortly after in the middle of another flurry that had both brothers off in town helping alongside Eddie some of the older neighbors to finish some minor repairs. Both Norma and Dawn however were tucked in bed with their much needed naps. The girls were mid lunch handled by Erik and Edie while you sat cross legged on the rug building a castle of blocks with Teddy who giggled the higher the structure began to grow. “We need a hat!”

Teddy exclaimed and you giggled in asking, “Hat?”

He nodded and pointed to the top of the tower on the side, “King’s house had a hat.”

“Oh, a flag. There’s some paper in the library I’ll fold us up a flag.”

He nodded and tottered off with Olive right behind him in her usual habit of shadowing the boy when on his own and your eyes turned towards the door that Victor entered, shivered and stomped with eyes cast your way once certain the door was sealed shut again to not let out too much heat. “Hey Pipsqueak, you’re on the floor.”

“We’re building a castle, Teddy is fetching paper for a flag.” You said to his strip from his outer snow protective layer that left him in trousers and a button down shirt once his snowy things were hung up.

“Well every castle needs a flag,” he hummed on his way over to sit beside you with smile spreading in a subtle scoop of the camera along the way to snap a picture of you sat down beside the castle that you giggled in notice of his plan that granted him a wide smile for the captured moment. “This’ll be among my favorites.” With legs crossed he plopped down beside you and watched teddy walk back with the paper from his coloring cubby with the dog behind him with bucket of supplies dangling from her mouth.

“Kitty! We need a hat!”

“Flag,” you again repeated and the boy nodded and again said, “hat,” that had you and Victor chuckle and you asked in settling the paper out beside the bucket Olive put down to hop up and lay out on the couch again beside her daughter Pepper still lost to her nap.

“What do you want on the flag?”

Various flags between the three of you were folded up and colored then placed atop the castle, all of which that slid close to falling off when James came home that had the momentary scowling boy stand up and smile mid shout of, “Unc Jim come make a hat!”

James smiled mid strip and once his clothes were hung up he came to join you all and post sweet kiss on your cheek he leaned in to join in on the fun that Teddy, now on his lap was guiding him through. Until his own flag was added. Lunch called and Victor lifted the boy while James helped to keep you steady in the unfold of your legs to climb from your knees up on your feet again.

Weeks of snow and in the break of 1948 came on the cusp of a fireplace smoldering with the end of needed firewood to warm the cabin that now was packed up for the long drive back again. Erik excitedly was back to finish his final semester in his high school with Edie planned ahead to head back to the market and get more material to make more of the outfits to add to your supply she would mail to you in Brooklyn. Just a whiff of some herbs and sauces in the drive back through the Italian block signaled a mental warning to the other cars to turn and stop to get something to eat before the final few blocks to the unlock of your home.

“Bunny Howler, sight for sore eyes Happy New Year.” Vinny Tortelli said upon your entrance into the warm eatery with his family scattered in a couple of the booths who turned their heads to nod in welcome to the surprising guests.

“Happy New Year,” you said and flashed a smile to his aunt and grandmother who came to the counter with spreading curious smiles of their own. “I know it’s close to closing.”

Vinny shook his head as his grandmother shook her head and ushered you inside in a path around the counter, “You all come in with those babies out of the cold and eat our food.”

Vinny’s cousin said, “We’re open another few hours anyways our food delivery for next week is running late.”

Outer coats were hung on the hooks around the large curved booth you were taken to and following a chuckle the shift of your sweater that folded a bit around your belly that had Vinny say, “I see someone’s been productive.” That turned your head and he gestured to your belly in your scoot aside to let James sit on the end of the booth, “Won’t be long before you can’t hide that bump when it warms up.”

Softly you chuckled and rested your hands on the table with fingers around the menu that drew his eyes to your new rings as you answered, “You have no idea. Barely halfway and I’ve puffed up nearly to put some full term women to shame.”

He smirked and asked, “I take it that explains the diamonds too? Heard you were up for a new gift with some sparkle.”

In a half smirking glance at James you said, “James’ idea to make me feel better on my others not fitting.”

Vinny chuckled as his grandmother now returned with some fresh breadstick baskets she eased between the couples at the table and said, “I knew those papers were trash. Who would trust a frog over strong genes. Snack on these and we will feed you and your growing baby, sure to be big one.”

You smirked and after a skim of the menu gave your order with the others as Vinny chatted with you all about the stories and what Eddie’s plans were concerning the stories the Daily Bugle could run about your change. Food however had the company to focus on their family and business at the sight of the truck that drove around the block to get to the back alley that they stood to help unload. Large servings and a helping of desserts with a paid bill later and off to your home you went for a welcome end to the trip.

In through the garage everyone unloaded the truck and cars into the lit and warming up house by everyone but you in your nest in the living room with the napping babies and pets. With the puppies and Mr Whiskers however you made your way up to your floor to simply take off your boots and get some sleep.

“Bunny!” Ambrose said with a smile wide in her hurry to close the distance between you in the morning drop in by the whole brood.

Gina however joined her in saying, “Off your feet! We found you a few nice dress patterns for Mass we want you to pick from.” Hours the family soaked up all they could and helped to plan what you might want for a nursery as they were all trying to think up ways they cold help on those grounds. Each kick between snacks had groups of hands on your belly until the time when you would be bundled up for the Wednesday Mass that would break you back into the pattern again. For now at least a wrap dress that Gina had made to fit for you from one of her old dresses to tide you over underneath a warm sweater and jacket helped to disguise the belly that Father Thomas took all that it had in him to not shout the change in your life that other former mothers had already guessed. Just your face alone that had given the change away with the new larger rings to drive the assumption home.

Mr Maisey however, father to three sets of triplets, was the one to break the ice and topic and caught you on your way to take communion. Just one look and he had a knowing smirk on his face in saying, “This is so familiar.”

His eyes shifted to James’ over your head, which wasn’t hard to do before but was even more so at your reluctance to wear heels since the kicking began to lessen chances of tumbles. In a chuckle James simply admitted to what was already known, “Triplets.”

Mr Maisey in a deep throated chuckle nodded and said to you, “Our youngest have a cold, but next week I’ll send the Missus round to pass over some pointers. Not that you need them for when they’re here, you’re the only one who was able to grant us nights off when they were fresh at home.”

“Thank you. Any tips would be helpful and she’s the only one to know the stakes.”

His grin spread and he said, “And don’t worry about the stories they tell you about needing a cut to have your babies. Had two sets born on their own and the last set took a cut merely because they tried to make it last a week on us and the older six at home were giving their gramps hell when we were gone.”

That had you giggle remembering that was how you were hired by the elderly man on edge who needed some backup of his own having seen at Mass and in town how you had helped with the younger Brocks since your adoption into the brood. “Yes, I remember how unruly they tried to be. Hopefully I can have a good birth, easy is out the window, but so far everything seems to be going well.”

“That’s good,” he said having taken notice of Mrs Cahn behind you who in a clear sign of withholding a secret and a smile tucked her lower lip between her teeth until she could pass on through her knitting circle just what and to whom you were talking about. Everyone had been up in arms over the story and with little to sue for from the leak in the lab of your exam it seemed to the town that there would be no justice in this for the woman whose reputation had been scuffed. Yet now evidently pregnant and so with triplets no less was a huge bitten thumb towards the Times for their story now that was publicly to be known to weigh less than the paper it was printed on.

He turned to Father Thomas however at the front of the line and in kneeling accepted his communion while his eldest six children on his left accepted from the younger Priest in training that handled all the children’s communion. James was next accepting in a trade of wide knowing smiles through his bend to the cushioned bench with lips parting for the communion wafer that they closed around to the Father’s hushed murmur. Up he rose in a cross of himself and stepped aside with eyes on you ready to help you down and up only to see the Father say with a smile, “You may stand.” Softly you chuckled to yourself and stepped up to the bench to accept the wafer and smile around it trying not to cry in his saying, “Congratulations. Truly a blessing and an answer to so very many prayers.”

All you could do was smile and turn in a cross of yourself. Stepping aside to let Eddie take his turn as you joined Victor to the side where he held Teddy and Marigold for Dawn and Eddie while Norma spoke to Ambrose about plans for your next appointment this weekend when she would come by again to continue sharing this experience with you.

Pt 50

#James Howlett x Reader OC #Victor Creed x Norma Jeane #Eddie Brock x OC #Erik and Edie #Teddy Brock #Marigold Dove Pear #Time in Canada #Nesting Period #Pregnancy Awkwardness #Family Time #New Gifts #Back to Brooklyn #Dinner with the Tortelli Family #Spread the News #Meeting the Maisey's

19 notes · View notes

huearmy · 4 years

Text

Life is Beautiful - I

Summary: You are a glass half full person, your life motto is "Life is too short to... Insert something and anything here". During your whole life you wanted something more, and even not knowing what it is, you put yourself to find out and get it, experiencing everything brilliant that the world offers - within the measure of what is safe, of course. The curious thing is that your way of living ended up rousing the interest of two vampires. One who sees beauty in everything and loves to exist, currently working with suicide prevention; and another one who no longer sees grace in things, in that boring immortality that never ends, and only complains about the Netflix catalog all the time.

Pairing: Jimin x reader / Taehyung x reader.

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut (very soft, ok?)...

Words: 7509.

Rating: +18

Warnings: As much as my writing is soft and light, and as these are not the main topic of the story, treated in a non-descriptive way, there are sensitive themes from the beginning of the first chapter to the end of the fic that can trigger sensitive people, like depression, suicide, addictions in general - Jimin literally works at a suicide prevention center here. SO PLEASE! Read responsibly, my intention when dealing with topics like this is always 1) dealing with them in myself, as a way of putting out part of my own healing process 2) generating identification in other people, so they can go through the difficult time a little less alone. THIS IS A STORY THAT SEES THE WORLD WITH POSITIVITY.

Chapter II Chapter III .

After some centuries of not living, all vampires go through a kind of midlife crisis in which everything loses its grace and eternity becomes endless boredom. Nothing new happens, humans are born, sometimes they are relevant to world history, they become vampire food or they die dull. Vampires do not need to sleep or use the bathroom, nor to feed more than once a month, so the days are long, and often lonely, which leads many of them to stand still without moving, looking at nothing until their thirst quits, forcing them to go after a pulsating neck. Many go through this phase as serial killers, with killing as their only source of pleasure, others prefer to hibernate in some dark place or tomb, because false death is more interesting than false life. Some never get past the phase.

Jimin is not like that. With almost a thousand years of existence he is totally in love with life. Every day when the sun rises and the sunlight forces him to stay indoors so as not to burst into flames, he spends his hours with a smile on his face, engaging in small banal hobbies, such as gardening or online courses at distance - after almost a decade of doing this, Jimin already has fifty-two certificates in different areas, and he is pretty pride of it. When night comes and he can go out and see the world it’s even more interesting, because humans ’nightlife isn’t as hectic as daytime, so those who live in those dark hours are different. There are those who do wrong things and commit crimes, those who have double lives or who keep secrets, there are people working to protect and save, like doctors and police, there are night guards and twenty-four hours convenience store attendants, groups of friends who spend the night partying until dawn, and those who feel lonely in their empty apartments unable to sleep... And this is the part that he likes the most: people.

He likes to meet random people in the empty metro, buy a drink for a girl who doesn't take her eyes off him and then dance with her, strike up a conversation with a homeless man under a marquee because he knows the guy must be lonely. Watching and learning about other lives keeps him alive, more than the blood he needs to drink.

He likes to get temporary jobs to have some human experience. He has worked in pizzerias, both in the kitchen - he was not very good, so he was put in the dishwasher - both in deliveries, and at a gas station, as a hotel receptionist... But now it looks like he found a job he wants to stay in, so much that it has been a year and he has not yet resigned. Perhaps Jimin has found his calling.

"It's okay... You are not alone, I'm here and I'll stay until you feel good again." He said with his sweet, angelical voice. "Can you get away from the sharp objects? Please?"

The voice on the other end of the line sounded like just a choked whisper, before the answer came, fast, heavy breathing filled the air.

"No... I can't..." The female sobbed.

"Can you tell me why?" Jimin's voice was calm. "I... my legs are numb... I can't... stand up." Her breathing was erratic and desperate.

"Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance to be sent to you?" He used his most reassuring voice possible.

"No!" She started to cry even harder. "I don't want no one... to see me... like this." Jimin bite the inside of his cheek, thinking, maybe she just wasn't able to get up because of the anxiety attack, but she also didn't say she wasn't hurt.

Regardless of the case, he needed to make the girl trust him in order to help her.

"What is your name?" He smiled, hopping she would listen to it in his voice. "... Ana" She whispered. "Nice to meet you, Ana. Do you remember my name? I told you at the beginning of the call."

One moment of silence.

"Jimin." She said with little certainty.

"Exactly, good job. Hi, Ana." "Hi, Jimin." Despite the crying voice, she was no longer sobbing.

"Ana, can you recall the last thing you did that made you feel safe? Secure?" A sigh reached Jimin's ears. As he waited for an answer his hands moved over a sheet of paper, he was drawing a beautiful face of a girl with crayons, without paying much attention, but getting a beautiful result.

"No." She said at last.

"I know you can, Ana. No need to rush. Breath." She thought some more, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Almost a full minute passed, the two of them silent on the call. Jimin did not press for an answer.

"I was watching Friends... with my cat." "Your cat?" Jimin smiled more spontaneously now, noticing in her voice an oscillation of affection when saying the word cat. "Talk more about your cat."

"His name is Sushi, he's fat, full of himself, and loving. He likes children, food and sleeping. I recently bought him a cute collar, it looks like a pink bow tie." She almost laughed.

"Wow...He is a lucky cat." Suddenly she started to cry again, sobbing so hard that Jimin hardly understood what she was saying.

"He ran away and hasn't come back yet... He's never been away from home so long... He's all I have, there's no one else... I don't want to live... alone." "Is it just you and Sushi?" Jimin spoke more forcefully for her to hear over the sobs.

"Yes." She choked. "I can't get up... It hurts so much. I'm so-sorry..."

"Ana, do you need an ambulance to be sent to you?" He tried again. Silence.

"Yes." "So I will stay with you until they come to help you. You are not alone."

Jimin was a vampire in love with live, eager to live each day as if it were the most precious gift, so working in the Center of Valuing Life and Preventing Suicide was perfect. He considers himself an expert in convincing anyone that life is beautiful when he has the opportunity to say everything he thinks about. And not letting people feel alone is one of his favorite hobbies.

After all, eternity can be quite lonely, he knows how it is.

________________________________________________________________

That call is over. Jimin was searching for missing cat posts on social media. In the silent office room it was just him and three other people working, each at their separated personal table. Perhaps due to the nature of the work, or due to the late hours of the night, nobody spoke loudly or made a lot of noise when doing things, even when talking to each other, everything is always very restrained, calm.

Jimin's eyes followed the clock hands on the wall above the door. It was almost one in the morning, actually, to be exact, twelve minutes to go, so in two minutes, you would punctually enter that door with your heavy backpack full of books, of someone who just left college on the other side of the city, and after stopping at a twenty-four hours fast food to get a well-deserved burger spent an hour on a subway trip. He could already hear your footsteps down the hall, the characteristic sound of the rubber on the soles of your boots and your bunch of keys stuck in the handle of your backpack tinkling. He heard you putting your stuff in your closet and hanging your coat on the rack in the next room, and a smile formed on Jimin's face. When the hand on the clock struck ten to one and you opened the door trying not to make any noise so as not to disturb anyone's call, Jimin pretended not to notice you entering, not taking his eyes off the computer screen full of images of cute cats. You straightened up and held firmly the pair of coffee cups in your hands till the knots turned white, looking straight at him - in fact, from the moment you walked through the door you were already expecting to see Jimin sitting at his table, as always, and since then you haven't looked away. Walking in light steps - that he could hear by the way - to him who had his back to you, you tried to control the butterflies in your stomach, happy he wasn't in a call right now.

"Jimin?" You called softly, close to his ear, but not that close. Yet. Jimin contained a smile and turned around as if you had taken him by surprise. "Hey, Y/N, didn't see you there". As usual, his direct look made your heart race and you gave a nervous laugh before getting along with his flirty tone. "I bought you coffee." You handed him one of the cups. "To take the night shift a little better."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

You are the other reason Jimin didn't quit this job yet. A few weeks ago, when he was working long enough to decide to leave and go for the next adventure, you started working at the night shift, and right away you caught Jimin's attention, even though at first you didn't talk with him that much - in fact you only talked to the women on the team, and avoided the men. More than once he found himself paying attention to your emergency calls, how you talk, being positive without being suffocating for those in pain ... how you love life. After a while you started doing the same thing, a little less easily, since you don't have a vampire audition, but it was enough for you to acquire a platonic crush on Jimin, which resulted in you opening up, and you two start talking here and there. Now almost whenever you have time or money left over - college life is poor life - you bring him coffee. Jimin doesn't actually drink coffee at all, and he doesn't feel sleepy either, but he thinks it's cute that you worry for him. You see each other three to four times a week, depending on the schedule of work, and he is always eager to see you. Flirting is exciting, and he hasn't done that in a while... Like two centuries, and how it was done back there was quite different. Other times indeed.

"Did you lose your cat?" You asked, confused.

"Oh, no, I didn't." He closed the page with the photo of a white and gray cat wearing a pink bow tie.. "One friend of mine lost her cat, Sushi." "Poor thing. I hope she finds Sushi soon..." You slightly pouted.

"Me too. I'll help her." Jimin said, and the butterflies in your stomach thought it was beautiful.

Something on his desk caught your attention, a colorful draw of said cat made with crayon. Before Jimin could stop you - he was distracted by hearing your heart beat faster because of him - you picked up the stack of papers to get a closer look.

"And you drew him! How beautiful... I didn't know you were so talented." "Thank you. My friend who taught me, he is much better than me..." Jimin simply answered.

You moved on to the next sheet, where another sketch of the cat in different colors made your eyes shine. "So he must be awesome. Look at this!" Jimin was happy to be praised by you, the pink of your cheeks when speaking was a beautiful sign for him, but then he remembered what was the next drawing in your hands, and before you could see it, he cleared his throat and took them back, keeping them in the drawer. It was a drawing of a girl's pretty face. Your face. "They are not quite ready yet..." He pretended modesty.

"Oh, sorry. If you need help, just tell me. I can hang up posters or something. About finding the lost cat, I mean." You volunteered, and then looked around. "I better get to work before someone scolds me."

You went to your desk, across his, and your eyes met a few more times before as you sat down and turned on your computer. Jimin's phone rang and he forced himself to look away from your face, someone else needed him now. "Good night, my name is Jimin and you called the Life Valuation Center. Can I help?" He spoke, his voice welcome and full of affection. ________________________________________________________________

Jimin's shift ends before yours, just before three in the morning he puts things away and leaves the table ready for the person who will use the next shift, but he won't leave, even if everyone thinks so. Instead he goes to the roof to look at the stars and wait for you to leave - not that you know he is waiting for you. He was listening to a random playlist on spotify, stretching his body to the beat just because it feels good, thinking about nothing specific, just existing and feeling good about it.

The night breeze brought his scent to him, looking down from the parapet, he could see you leaving the building, with your scarf well wrapped around your neck, covering half of your face to protect you from the cold air. He doesn't understand you... It's beautiful that you want to help people who are going through a difficult time, and you've commented before that the night shift matches your other schedules, and that you like to stay up at night. However, he thinks you should consider it's not worth it. It's so late and empty when you go home, it's dangerous for a human woman, and as much as he knows that you have a pocketknife in your pocket, Jimin thinks it's silly of you. Usually he wouldn't think much about it, but it's you, and he is fond of you, he can't just do nothing about it. So even if you don't know it, he accompanies you home every night to make sure you are safe. He is only satisfied and goes home when he hears you enter your room. Sometimes he stays a little longer, sitting on the emergency stairs outside your building, listening to you walking up and down in your room, doing whatever, instead of going to sleep soon.

That's kind of creepy. He knows. But he is a vampire, he is already creepy in essence. But of course he would never watch you sleep, for exemple, this is a stalker limit that he does not intend to cross.

"Okay." He sighed as he heard you getting into bed. "I have one hour and a half before the sun rises... Let's find that cat." __________________________________________

You were awake for a couple of hours already, currently packing your books at the end of a lecture, really needing sugar to feel prepared before the last class of the day, and excited that instead of going to the study group you are a part of, you will take an experimental dance class and it's your day off, which means that instead of staying up until dawn working, you can stay up until dawn studying, and maybe sleep a little earlier. Life is too short to not take all the free trial classes available just because your schedule is already full and totally demanding. Anyways you are dead tired, wishing your body doesn't need to sleep... Since you started to work on the Life Valuation Center all your sleeping schedule went down the drain. At first your plan was to work the night shift only at the beginning, and then change your hours, but for some reason you always liked to stay up all night, also the movement of calls in this period is bigger and more specific, which helps in your internship report, and of course, in the day shift there is no Jimin... You've settled in, and now after months of this crazy, fickle routine, your body is feeling the side effects.

"Three of this rainbow donuts please." You asked at the college cafe. One because you want, two because one is not enough, three because you are greedy. Life is too short not to overeat your current favorite sugar source. You sigh to yourself, taking a seat along your friends. Your mantra for life is life is too short to...insert anything here, experimenting and doing things that you never imagined before and that your mother probably wouldn't approve a hundred percent is what moves you. Basically nothing scares you, since childhood you were courageous and fearless. You subject yourself to almost anything, within the measures of what is safe, to have good stories to tell. The world is too big to be content with just having good grades to graduate and have a good job. What you want is much more... so much more that you don't even know what... But it’s not just because you don’t know yet that you’ll stand still without going after it to find out.

"Hey, Y/N, what are you gonna do on the weekend?" Your friend, Becca, asked comfortably within her girlfriend's embrace. As usual, whenever you see the two of them together being all lovey dovey, you feel a twinge of pride in your heart, because you were responsible for them to start dating in the first place. Although your romantic life is not very interesting, without serious or successful relationships, you are a great cupid.

"For the very first time in months... I don't know. I didn't plan anything, maybe something will show up, if not I'm just going to sleep. Why?" You smiled your happy smile of eating what you like.

"Pool party. You need to get a tan, you look like a vampire with that pale, tired face of yours."

You laughed because it's true, since you started changing the day for the night, your skin has acquired a not healthy tone that you are not used to. You've been missing the sun a little.

"First of all, I'm too cute to be a vampire. Second, yeah I'll think about it, I have a new bikini I haven't worn yet that makes my breasts look stunning." One of your friends that was sitting by your side put his arm over your shoulder. "I changed my mind, I'm going to this party." He loudly said. The girls in the group didn't laugh at all. "Shut up, Mike." You playfully pushed him. ________________________________________________________________

This was the second night that Jimin was looking for the cat, Sushi. It was not difficult to find out the address of it’s owner, since he had to activate an ambulance for her, and with that he started looking for the animal in her neighborhood. Passing through the empty streets at night after his work shift, he could see the girl's tracks leaving "missing" posters with a picture of a kitten wearing a pink bow tie, on lampposts and bus stops. At first Jimin thought it was going to be easy, with his keen vampire senses, but all he found were stray cats that weren't Sushi. The second night of searching was already ending, the sun was rising, threatening to make him explode into ashes if he didn't come home soon, and no clue as to where to look the next night he had.

Before getting into the car and driving home, Jimin took one last look at the slightly open curtains in the girl's room, Ana, just to make sure she was okay. She had been discharged from the hospital that afternoon and was now sleeping on the couch, probably medicated. Jimin didn't want to leave her alone, but he couldn't just walk into her apartment and offer help, for now all he could do was find a way to find the cat. ________________________________________________________________ Jimin lives in an old pretty house in the wealthiest part of the city, it isn't a mansion, but it is big and expensive enough to impress anyone who sees it, privileges of centuries of saved money. It's a cliché, but vampires dress in designer clothes, ride luxury cars and live in expensive mansions, houses, apartments, and Jimin is no exception.

From one of the main rooms, behind a heavy curtain, hidden in the gloom, was another vampire, watching the street with intent, expressionless eyes. When Jimin's car turned the corner and up the wide street lined with huge trees, the vampire got uneasy, his beautiful restless hands worrying the hem of his sleeves. He was anxious and angry, if his heart was still beating it would be racing. The garage door opened and the car entered, disappearing from view, in the next second the vampire was no longer in the room but in front of the door leading to the garage, waiting in the empty, dark hall. The knob turned the door slightly opened, Jimin with his head down did not seem to notice the presence of the other before being attacked.

"AH!" Jimin screamed as long arms embraced his neck. If it wasn't for the wall behind him he would have fallen, yet he had no escape, with a body much larger than his overpowering him. "Taehyungie!"

"You are late! Is the second day in a row you get home after sunrise! Are you trying to die?" Taehyung said, and didn't let Jimin go just yet. "It's okay. I was careful, I just had to do a few things before I came home. Look, there's not even smoke coming out of me." Jimin ran his hands over Tae's back, making him relax. The other stepped back a little, taking his face in his big hands.

"You could have sent a message. I asked you to let me know if you were going to be late again, Jiminie..." Tae pouted, still distressed. "And why do your clothes smell like garbage? Take it off."

Even feeling deprived of affection, Taehyung walked away looking disgusted, covering his nose with two fingers. Jimin obeyed, taking off his sneakers, jacket and jeans, following Taehyung through the corridor to the laundry room, where he put everything in a basket to wash later, and also exchanged the shirt for a clean one too. "I went into some alleys today, looking for a cat. That's why." Jimin explained, feeling much more comfortable in not smelling bad.

"And where's it? I don't think Tannie will like to share the house with a cat..." "Where is what?" Jimin was confused. Tae crossed his arms.

"The cat?"

"Oh no!" Jimin laughed, reaching for Tae to take him by the shoulders. "I wasn't looking for a cat to bring home, as much as I would love one as a pet... It's the cat of a girl I met, and is very sad to have lost it..."

"I got it..." Taehyung mumbled.

Jimin was just helping someone. Again. And Taehyung couldn't say exactly why it bothers him so much every time, but it does, he feels distressed, almost as if the world around him collapsed, and it makes him think he's being overdramatic. Live an eternity when you can't even put your feelings out in moments of frustration. Damn, it is conflicting... If vampires could cry, he would. But never that he would let Jimin discover that he feels that way.

It was Jimin's turn to take Tae's face in his little hands.

"You are so skinny. When was the last time you fed?" Taehyung didn't answer.

"You don't even remember, right?" Jimin's eyes went worried. "Did you see that I brought some O- packs for you? I left it in the fridge."

"No, I didn't." A shy smile spread across Tae's face. O- is his favorite blood type, but because it is a not so common type, and humans need transplantation, it's not always that Jimin brings it to him, usually opting for his second favorite flavor or other one available.

Jimin has been trying to cheer his friend up with little treats. It has been a difficult phase, in which he thinks Tae is going through the vampiric midlife crisis. He hasn't been out of the house for almost two decades and does nothing without a little external motivation, even the simplest things like eating. So Jimin tries to bring the best blood types to fill the fridge, signed all available streaming platforms, updates Taehyung's video game consoles as soon as a new model comes out, tries to get him interested in new hobbies - which never works but he doesn't give up - and he even adopted a puppy so that Tae would never be alone.

"Come." Jimin pulled him by the hand to their modern practically untouched kitchen, opened the fridge and picked two packs of blood, the dark liquid shining at the cold light. “In my room or yours?"

"Yours."

The two of them got to Jimin's room, followed by the sound of four paws scraping the polished wooden floor, Yeontan chasing them closely. Jimin pulled the covers off the clean bed, on which he rarely lies down, so they could get more comfortable. Tae laid on his back, against the pile of smooth pillows, carefully opening a packet of blood to not spill a single drop, and put a stainless steel straw in the opening. Jimin turned on the TV, put the dog in the bed, and cuddled Tae's side, with his head on his chest.

"What show have you been watching?" Jimin asked.

"None. I've been looking for something interesting in this shit for days and I can't find anything." Tae took a sip of his blood with a pout.

Jimin chuckled. "I'm choosing then."

A moment of silence followed, in which the only sound was of Tae drinking the rest of his first pack, and then opening another one.

"I think I need to shower..." Jimin commented.

Taehyung's arm that was around Jimin tightened. "Not now. Later." Jimin laughed, thinking it was cute. An idea crossed his mind, another small treat.

"Do you want to bath with me instead?" He looked up to Tae.

Tae hold tightened even more.

"Not now. Later. Now we cuddle."

As if agreeing, Yeontan climbed over the two vampires, finding a comfortable place to lie down and join the cuddle pile.

"Ok."

________________________________________________________________

Tonight you didn't have time to talk to Jimin when you arrived at work, he was on a call, and it seemed really serious. You didn't have the money to buy extra coffee even for yourself, so you hadn't an excuse to pass quietly by his desk to leave a post-it written "Hi :)". In those circumstances, you went straight to your desk to work, to do your best to be a good listener.

To your surprise, making your heart melt and your breath hold at the bottom of the throat, you saw at the top of your computer screen a post-it with a "Hi, sweetheart." written on it, and another one with a "Look in the fridge.". After working with him for that time, regularly doing some paperwork like filling out documentation and such things, you could say for sure that this was Jimin's handwriting, besides, only he calls you sweetheart.

You checked the clock on the wall with an eager look and a silly smile. As you always arrive ten minutes early, there was time to go to the break room quickly, and look inside the fridge before starting to work. And so you did. The break room was nothing more than a small table with a few chairs, a small couch, a sink, an old coffee machine, a microwave and the refrigerator, all in a tight space lit by white lights that leave the place a little impersonal. None of your co-workers were there, as usual. You crossed the small room to the fridge and opened it trying not to make a noise, more out of habit than necessity.

The interior was very empty, with some forgotten lunchboxes, but that didn't interest you. Your goal was right in the middle. A big cup of iced coffee, from a franchise that you don't usually buy from because you find it a little too expensive for your student budget, with your name written on a post-it on top of it.

"Y/N, I wanted to be me treating you today. Hope you like it."

That coffee was as cold as Jimin's fingertips when touching yours, but it warmed your heart. Sometimes you question yourself if it's healthy how head over heels you are for this guy, for so little.

Back at your desk, now with your iced coffee, you wrote a post-it and pasted it on the back of your computer screen, where Jimin could see it. "Thanks :)" Then you started to work. Other people needed you now. ________________________________________________________________ On your fifteen minutes break time, you were leaving the restroom, passing a moisturizing hand cream - because you swear that the soap in this place dries out your skin, and god forbid you from harsh hands -, the sound of the break room's door opening made you lift your eyes from the floor. It was Jimin. He don't take breaks, it's not like he needs it, he doesn't get tired, but he didn't get the chance to talk to you today yet, so as soon he saw you stretching in your chair, indicating that you would soon get up to go to the bathroom - yes, he learned your routine and mannerisms - he discreetly left the room to meet you by coincidence in the hall afterwards.

"Hi, Y/N. Did you like the coffee?" He charmly smiled at you, he was eager to ask it to you, to find out if he made the right choice of flavor, or if he made a bad mistake and you hated it - he couldn't help thinking about that possibility. Anyway, he was looking forward to your approval.

The truth is that you were so stunned by his caring that it didn't matter what the flavor was.

"Actually, yes. I love vanilla flavored things. It's basic but it makes me happy." You fixed your hair, pulling it behind your ears. Jimin could tell by your smile and your heated face that you aren't lying.

"Nice. I wanted to make you happy." He approached you, more than is suitable for the work environment, and it made you nervous, and of course he noticed. But it was okay, if someone came close he would hear and walk away before they could see you, too bad he couldn't tell you that.

"Mission completed successfully." You said, without looking away from his eyes - no matter how much part of you shouted at you to do it, your heart felt like it was going to explode. Well, your heart has a limit, so you changed the subject. "Did your friend find her cat?" Sadness took over Jimin's eyes.

"Unfortunately not. I've been looking for him for two days and nothing, I swear I think I've looked in every street, alley and trash can. I don't want to think like that, but I think Sushi is no longer with us." He sighed, clearly frustrated. You had the impulse to rub his forearms to comfort him, it was the very first time you really touched him. "If he is a cat that wasn't accustomed to getting out, and didn't know how to walk on the street, it is possible that something bad happened... But! He's a cat, if he used to go out often, he might have some other house, other owners, and that's why he hasn't come back yet." You optimistically said.

A smile spread in Jimin's face.

"That makes sense! She told me something like 'He's never been away from home for so long', there's hope then. And you also gave me an idea. Thank you, Y/N." He pulled you into a hug, and you thought you could die.

"You welcome." You said against his chest, deciding not to waste the opportunity to return the hug. ________________________________________________________________ The day was perfect for a vampire walk in the daytime. Cloudy and rainy. No deadly sunbeams and an excuse to use an umbrella without calling attention to it. After the tip you gave, Jimin looked in the right place after accompanying you home that night, and in less than an hour he was outside the window of two children's rooms, in a ground floor apartment, looking inside, and sleeping between the feet of one of the children was the cat, he wasn't with his bow tie but there was no mistake, Jimin was sure. Even without being able to enter - vampiric rules, you only can get in somebody's house if invited, or else you explode as if you were under sunlight - Jimin could smell cat all over the house, and the windows all had anti-escape screens, which indicated that it was a family of cat people.

Jimin would need to come back to pick the cat during the day, knock on the front door and politely ask. That's why heavy weather is perfect. With a dark couture coat, covering all from his neck to the back of his hands, to his knees, a design hat and sunglasses, and last but nos least, a big umbrella, he approached the lower middle class apartment complex. Without hesitation he raised his hand and knocked. Some seconds passed by, sound of kids running inside and a voice of a famale scolding them muffled by the closed door, and then a little girl, maybe six-year-old, appeared in Jimin's field of vision, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen after all.

"Hello." Jimin smiled. "Are your parents home?"

She smiled at him, but shook her head negatively.

"Jo, who is it?" An older girl opened the door wider and faced Jimin with a frown that fell apart when she saw his smile. Great, a teenager, he thought. "What do you want?"

"Sorry to bother, I really wanted to talk to an adult, but..." Jimin lifted his phone, the screen showing Sushi's missed post. "I saw my friend's cat on your window."

The older girl narrowed her eyes as she looked at the photo, but before she could answer, the little girl she called Jo before ran away.

"No!" She screamed, disappearing inside the apartment, and then slamming a door somewhere.

"Sorry for that, please wait a minute." The teenager closed the door on his face, and he could hear her shouting and scolding the girl little inside. He was starting to lose his patience. Jimin doesn't like to be ignored at all. Should he knock again and use his mind control powers to get the cat? He was pondering the idea when the door opened again, the two girls were still loudly arguing inside, and this time it was a small boy who must be the middle sibling in front of him.

"Hi, grandma said to tell you to come in." He mumbled.

"So you are letting me get in your house?" Jimin asked with a satisfied grin.

"Yeah... follow me." The boy was avoiding eye contact, being shy. Jimin thought he was adorable.

Jimin followed the boy to a tiny living room, where an old woman was sitting in front of the TV. The girls were now silent, but clearly wanting to argue some more, and the small one was with Sushi in her arms. Jimin sighed, he likes children, a lot, even though he doesn't live with many, but he likes them even more when they're not having a tantrum.

"Hello. Please, take a seat." The old lady pointed to the old couch. The vampire obliged, and almost immediately a fat orange cat jumped into his lap. In this small room alone he could see three more of them. "So, why do you want to steal one of my babies?" Steal? Jimin was slightly offended, he already explained himself, but the chaotic situation created a misunderstanding. "I'm not here to steal nothing, ma'am." He showed his cellphone again. "One of your cats is Sushi, my friend's cat."

"That's not his name!" The little girl shouted tapping a foot on the floor in anger. Jimin just raised his eyebrows at her, making her swallow hard. But he is in control of the situation, so Jimin smiled to remain pleasant.

"Of course it is. Just watch, little one." He reached out to call the cat. "Come here, Sushi." Even though the cat didn't know Jimin to trust him - and these people don't need to know that - cats are creatures of the night, strongly attached to magic and protection in the dark hours, and in the hierarchy of the night they obeyed vampires. The only things that cats respect more than vampires are witches and their own owners whom they protect. As Jimin expected, Sushi jumped off the girl's tight hold and went over to him.

"Good boy. Ana is missing you like hell." Jimin scratched behind his ears. Before someone else could say anything, he proceeded. "When he got lost he was using a pink bow tie." The old lady was still with Jimin cellphone in her hand, and he could see she was convinced he know the cat, but wasn't intending on letting him leave with him yet.

"I'm seeing it in the post, but there was no tie when we got him." She replied. "You just didn't see it, ma'am." Jimin was tired of this conversation, it was being a lot less nice than he imagined on his way there. When he looked to the little girl to talk to her, his eyes were intense and powerful, and his voice was full of authority. "Go get the tie where you hid it, little one."

Mesmerized by Jimin's power, the girl didn't even blink or say anything as she obeyed, turned around and ran to one of the rooms. Jimin doesn't use hypnosis very often but he has fun every time. She got back with it and handed it to him.

"Thanks." He removed the effect and the little girl blinked a few times before understanding what happened.

The old lady was clearly angry with the girl, but it wasn't Jimin's business. "Well I think that's all. We are going now." Jimin got up from the couch.

"Wait!" The teenager snapped. "Jo lied about the bow to keep the cat, and that's bad, but she already loves him! You can't just take him away!"

Jimin was almost on the door.

"Of course I can. Besides, it's not because what she did is bad, young lady. It's because my friend loves him, actually this cat is Ana's family. No one should live alone, right?"

"Right!" The old lady got up too. "I'll get you to the door, tell our friend we are sorry."

"I will. Thank you." ________________________________________________________________

"You found the cat!" Tae sniffed the back of Jimin's neck. "Where is it?"

Jimin was putting the clothes he was using to wash, to remove the smell of cat and the places he passed by. And to get comfortable, as is his habit when he gets home, he just stayed in his underwear and t-shirt.

"I already gave him back to his owner." In the next second Jimin was dropping himself on the leather couch.

"And how was it? Did she thank you with tears in her eyes?" Tae leaned over the back of the sofa with his chin in his hands.

Jimin chuckled, Taehyung's thirst for drama is funny, and he's always been like that. And at least that doesn't seem to have changed...

"Well... She cried a lot when she found him in the window. She looked really happy!" Jimin sang. He was really happy too. He helped someone to find their smile again, even if it is a little bit, it made him really proud of himself, a warm feeling in his chest telling him it was the right thing to do, and that he should do it again if he gets the opportunity. Taehyung's expression changed, suddenly he was disinterested.

"You didn't even talk to her? Just left the cat there for her to find?"

"Well, yeah." Jimin threw his hair back. "I couldn't risk she recognizing my voice and thinking I was stalking her. Scaring her was not the goal, Tae, quite the contrary..."

Taehyung stared at him in silence for what felt a whole minute - maybe it really was, vampires perceive time differently. "You are not a secret superhero, Jimin. You are a vampire." Said that he got back to his room.

Jimin doesn't understand. These outbursts and mood swings leave him confused. And it's not like he hasn't already tried to talk. This... This he doesn't recognize in Taehyung. It hurt his feelings and at same time he feels it is partially his faut. "I can be both if I want to!" He exclaimed.

No answer. To find somebody who would be happy for him and understand the euphoria he felt for saving a little bit that girl he went through his contact list. A lot of vampire names - a lot is maybe an exaggeration, since he doesn't have many friends at all - who wouldn't be rude, but wouldn't understand, and also some former human colleagues from past jobs with whom he hasn't spoken in a long time and maybe should erase the number... And you. Of course you are the obvious choice. You had sympathy for the case from the beginning, even offered to help. And if it weren't for you he wouldn't have succeeded...

Jimin: hey sweetheart Jimin: I found sushi! Jimin: thanks to you btw He sent the messages, hoping it wouldn't be strange. It wasn't the first time you two texted before, but it was just an exchange of memes and silly flirt... without compromise talk. And what he wanted this time was different. You took too long to answer, and he wondered if you were in class and if he was bothering you. He wanted everything but to mess it up with you right now. Maybe he should've checked your class schedule for the week to make sure he texted you when he was sure you were free. But he was so eager to talk to someone... with you. He gave up waiting and went after doing something productive. Crochet dolls. He was doing a mini Taehyung, with red eyes and little cute fangs - an apology for later, neither of them like fighting with each other, even if you can't call that earlier thing a fight- when his cell phone started to crazily vibrate and beep.

You: OMG! You: thts amazing! You: sorry i didn't aswr before You: I was taking a nap hehe You: anyways You: i'm so happy u found him You: [image.jpg] You: ur friend must be even happier :) You: what do u mean thanx to me? You: sorry i spammed u :( Jimin can't handle you. You are too cute. You literally sent him a photo of you with an enormous smile, cheering, to show him your reaction. And you were with your hair all messed and the puffy face of someone who just woke up. Precious. Jimin: no problem, sweetheart Jimin: you said to look in other owners' houses. basically. I found him with a old cat lady with three grandchildren Jimin: you are looking cute btw You: OwO You: i'm looking like shit Jimin You: BUT thats awesome You: if it was me id be crying til my eyes fall You weren't even there with him, in person, and you were putting a smile on his face. How dare you say you look like shit when you have those perfect cute cheeks? So alive...

Jimin: EXACTLY. that's why I wanted to find him so much. Jimin: and because you helped me, I want to reward you Jimin: i know you don't work today. me neither. do you want to go out for coffee in a nice place? You took too long to answer again, and that's because your heart is exploding and knees trembling while you stare at your cell phone screen, standing midway in your kitchen. You: u dont need to. i did nothing. This time Jimin took too long to answer. He was making a decision. To be more straightforward. More honest. Until now he was dictating a slow pace for your flirting, because for him romance is like that. But what if he tries to speed things up a bit? Or if he lets you command? How would things be?

Jimin: Y/N, respect my excuse to ask you out.

He knew what your answer would be. Even so, he felt anxious, hearing a non-existent heartbeat in his ear, while the three dots indicated that you were typing.

You: ok. what time do you come to pick me?

Tag List: @angrygardenerr @depressed-dude20 @milktaetae95 @tangledsparkles @wlalsrkfla @minikolima @wrecklesseuphoria

If you want me to add you to the list let me know, and please let comments :)

134 notes · View notes

fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

Note

So ok, i was hoping if you could do a compainions react to a trans male sole losing a fight with some transphobic (+ homophobic for male companions) raiders?

(I hope you enjoyed!!)

Let me just start by saying this, the companions will absolutely do their best to fuck their shit up regardless- you’re their friend, in some of their cases, the only friend they truly trust.

—-

Things were going so smoothly.

As per usual, a typical walk down the eastern coast of Boston resulted in stumbling upon some less than savory characters- but that hadn’t been an issue before. Once the two of you had finally stumbled upon mentioned characters, you gave each other a knowing look before engaging in combat.

One thing led to another and somehow they got separated from you, the realization of such causing their breath to hitch- worried eyes scanning all around in hopes of finding you. However they not had to look for very long-

“Yeah that’s it! Fucking tranny, cowering like the little bitch you are.” Somehow, someway..this person got the jump on you. What was to be an easy shot to their head quickly went awry whenever they struck your hand with their tire iron, proceeding to heat you back until your leg swayed from beneath you- your body succumbing to the sheer pain of a few broken bones.

That’s probably why your heart beat several pumps a minute, having had to force yourself backed into a crate wall in attempt to escape.

“Heh, shame. You’re actually kind of cute, for a dude with a pussy, at least.” The sickeningly spat, their fingers fidgeting as they readjusted the grip on their weapon- raising it, about to swing...until-

<Special!>

Dogmeat:

As though it wasn’t bad enough that the person his precious sole was fighting with was being aggressive, they were also saying these weird things too? Oh hell no. As soon aa the German Shepherd got a good shot, he’d leap above your trembling form and a silently wreck shop on their ass. Teeth to tits.

~~~~

Cait:

“Hey you fucking cunt, hope you like swallowing teeth!”

She wouldn’t even hesitate to use her own fists. It would probably hurt her too, but she didn’t care. True to her words, she’d make them suffer- busting their nose and knocking their teeth out before finally settling for gouging their eyes.

Curie:

“You say very mean things, at least you won’t be able to anymore...”

Being so dainty and lithe definitely had its perks. While that asshat was spewing their venomous monologue, she was able to sneak up behind them- plunging a syringe full of poison into their jugular.

How could they be so mean to you?

Danse:

“That’s quite enough.”

Danse usually wouldn’t ever resort to using such..brutal measures. However between feeling the sting of their words and seeing how they were able to beat you so badly....Danse grabbed ahold of their head and simply lifted up. The strength of his power armour suit allowing him to successfully “pop” it off.

Deacon:

“Sucks for them.”

Deacon would use their talking as an opportunity. Sneaking up behind them, he’d plunge his knife right into their back- twisting it for good measure as they screamed in agony. It was a bit underhanded, but shit, it worked.

As soon as he was able to get you to medical help, he’d be there to try to make you feel better about the ridiculous things that person said.

Gage:

“Dumbass, didn’t even know who he was talking too. Oh well, come on boss..let’s go get ourselves cleaned up.”

He. Would. Not. Hesitate. To. Blow. Their. Fucking. Head. Off.

Hancock:

“You, oh you’re coming with me..”

Having chems on hand usually meant Hancock was always ready for a good time..however right now it meant he was stocked up to perform a quick little “kidnapping”. Once he gage you a stimpack and was sure you’d be alright, he’d option for the two of you to go to Goodneighbor- dragging the insufferable, unconscious dickhead with you the entire way.

Once there, it was all a matter of waiting. Who knows? Maybe they’ll be missing a tongue, or a toe when they wake up. Either way, it’ll be a fun experience.

Macready:

“What a buttface..”

They didn’t know it, but it was a horrible decision to turn your back on a sniper. Mere seconds went by before Mac’s bullet flew through their skull, painting you in the viscera of their demise. A little bit afterwards, Mac would come strolling along with his trusty rifle at side. Then he’d kneel down in front of you, a small smile on his face when you thanked him.

Maxson:

“You’re in no position to say such disrespectful things..Mercy isn’t something I usually consider, but for you- it’s entirely out of the question.”

Arthur almost never got involved with the commonwealth missions, but this time he was glad he had.

As they were saying their indecent words, he grabbed the hand they intended to wing with- pulling it back and twisting it around their back, pulling one good time causing them to yell out in pain. Just when they were going to swing toward him, they were promptly met with the business end of his combat knife- slicing into their forehead from the force of which they turned.

Nick:

“Some people just have no redemption..Do they?”

The old detective would merely cast his gaze at their now twitching corpse, having shoot them point blank in the back of their head. He’d just scoff, kicking their body aside as he tentatively looked you over- deciding the next best course of action was to jab a stimpack in you.

Old Longfellow:

“Dontcha dare listen to them kiddo, son of a bitch probably didn’t have a piece of brain left anyway- now let’s go get you patched up.”

It took only five point two seconds for him to choke the unsuspecting raider, having pulled back their tire iron and thrusted it against their throat, holding it their until they no longer breathed. Once done with his rather violent display, he simply shrugged and offered you his hand.

Piper:

“Wow, what a dick..”

She’d have no words! None. She’s seen some terrible people, but boy, the world just never ceases to supply a worse bunch, does it? Regardless of her eternal thoughts, she’d just shake her head before shooting them in their ass, then their face when they turned around.

Preston:

“Hmph, as if being a raider wasn’t already a shitty enough life decision..”

Their words would enrage him to no return. This ended up resulting in him bashing the butt of his laser musket against their head until they no longer moved. They had no right to cast down such terrible judgement. No one does.

Skinny Malone:

“Don’t worry now, bastard got what was coming to ‘im.”

Yours crazy if don’t think wherever Skinny goes, his gang is close behind. At the very first sign of trouble, they came out of their shadowing spots and unleashed hell in the form of several rounds of ammunition. When all was said in done, the asshole that spoke such means words to you closely resembled Swiss cheese. After the whole ordeal, Skinny would take you back to his headquarters and let you drink to your hearts content- reassuring you that you shouldn’t let people like that make you feel any less of your self.

Sturges:

“Listen, I know you raider kind aren’t the smartest but..that’s just stupid. Even for your standards I presume.”

Truthfully..he was scared as hell going up against the raiders but! He owed it to you. So he rolled up his sleeves and stormed right in up to the bastard looking over you, hitting them upside the head with an old wooden board he thankfully found.

X6-88:

“Let’s go..I believe we’re both entitled to drink after this.”

He made quick, precise work of the perpetrator. Gone and done before your eyes could even process it. Had he not been right in front of you, offering you his hand, likely wouldn’t have even thought he had killed them at all- instead perhaps thinking it was some invisible force instead.

62 notes · View notes

academiaipromise · 4 years

Text

Hello!

This is a series that was inspired by some stressed-filled Zoom calls that I’ve been having with some underclassmen for both my extracurricular organizations and peer mentoring programs. If you’re still reading this, chances are, you’re either going back to college soon or starting college for the first time in the year that is 2020. While we all are probably focusing on the safety of ourselves and our loved ones (as we arguably should), many incoming freshmen I’ve been talking to are also stressed about college things: emailing professors, study tips, how to balance virtual classes. So, in case you feel like reading a series of tips written by a 4th year undergrad who at least pretends to know what she’s doing, click below to read the second entry. Click here for the first.

Tip #2: Zoomin’, or Keeping a Life/Work Balance During Online or Hybrid Courses

When trying to figure out the order in which to post these tips, I was struck with the realization that I start school in a little over a week. So, if anyone is in this same boat, I figured it would be important to talk about class registration tips when there’s still time for you do something about it. This post is a long one, but here’s hoping you can find some advice in it.

So something to clarify right off the bat: when everything started moving to a virtual format, everybody and their mother on the Internet starting coming forward with tips on how to work from home. And while that’s kind of what’s happening here, I take issue with two things: working from home is not the same as working from home during a global crisis, and working from home is not the same as virtual college. So I’ll try to get as specific as I can, but also try to throw in some tips that might work better for you than they do for me.

Part One: Registering for Classes

Okay so this part you might have already done, but it’s good to keep in mind. While the recommended hours at every university is different, in my experience the average recommendation is 15 credits hours per semester. It’s important to note though that this is only an average: if you plan on taking courses in the summer, graduating early/later than 4 years, or taking on multiple majors, all of these things affect the credit hours you should be taking.

The unpleasant reality of registering for courses is there’s really no way to know how a specific class will be. There’s always RateMyProfessor.com or other tools, but who’s to say that professors will be like they normally are if they’re trying to figure out how to teach online/hybrid classes? Also, it’s a good thought to keep in mind that typically only two kinds of people leave public reviews of a professor/course: those who really loved the class, and those who really hated the class. So read and figure out what exactly they’re saying, not just how they feel about the course. And just know yourself - if someone from a humanities background says a statistics class is too hard, but you're great with numbers, that’s not always the best advice to heed. Listen to your gut instinct, both when registering and during drop/add week.

My advice for registering for classes right now? Whatever your instinct is, go a little less if you’re able. The reason I say this is because studying in 2020 can be...a lot, in the same way doing anything in 2020 is. I was only registered for 12 credit hours last semester, and even that became difficult to manage toward the end (moving back home suddenly, people you know getting sick, trying to protect high risk loved ones/yourself, all of which can and probably will happen again this semester). I would just say to go in overestimating how much time you need for yourself vs classes - there will be other semesters, and it’s better to take less classes now and not burn out or struggle mentally (or even just academically) in your first semester of college. Please just be kind to yourself.

Part Two: Zoom, or the True Necessary Evil

Maybe you used Zoom all throughout your last months of high school; maybe your university is using Microsoft Teams or something to that effect. Either way, here is what I’ve found to be helpful during my unforeseen five month foray into Zoom, seemingly with no end in sight.

1. Zoom is a tool. Yes, I kind of hate Zoom, and you may also come to hate Zoom if you don’t already, but there are benefits. You can send in written questions or raise your hand through Zoom if your professor allows that feature, both of which are very helpful in trying to show engagement while also trying to respect any kind of Zoom decorum. This post is going to be long enough, and my next post will have more to do with extracurriculars and virtual opportunities, but if you ever need to host a Zoom and want to just use all of its features, I’m more than happy to answer DMs. I’ve had to sit through so many Zoom tutorials for Student Involvement, and if I can spare anyone from that, I would love to.

2. Balance what you keep digitally versus what’s on paper. Okay, so this is definitely, definitely up to personal preference, but speaking from experience, I just don’t view online or hybrid classes as the opportunity to go fully digital if you’ve never been fully digital before. For me, I always take handwritten notes, mainly because when it comes to remembering things, I either have more of an auditory memory, or I can remember the way that I wrote something when I was taking notes. Considering online classes usually decrease the auditory memory aspect a lot, when things moved virtual I made a point to keep taking handwritten notes. However, something that I’ve found particularly appealing is using Google Calendar (or iCal, Outlook, whatever it is you prefer) to an excess. When scheduling Zoom calls, I always save the Zoom link in the description of the event on my Google Calendar. Trust me, this is a lot better than trying to go through your email to find the link that professor sent. So I would advice to think about your learning preferences and figure out a way to still play to your strengths, even if it might technically be a little less convenient.

3. Schedule screen breaks. This is so important for so many reasons. While I’ve invested in some blue light glasses because I am slowly losing my vision after years of reading books by flashlight or AO3 fics on my phone until late at night, I still get fatigued being on a screen for so long. Because it’s not just school that’s on the screen; it’s your clubs, your social interactions, maybe your job. I would recommend scheduling screen breaks that coincide with some sort of physical activity (I don’t necessarily mean an intensive physical activity, although if you want to feel free; I more am referring to getting up out of your chair and walking around your room or apartment. Or going outside. Ride your bike. Do some yoga. Eat some food. Etc.), but if you’re feeling particularly busy or overwhelmed, taking notes from a physical book works just as well. Even if you feel okay at the moment, scheduling breaks and following that schedule can save you from screen fatigue hitting all at once - it will take a lot longer to get over a headache between your eyes/your eye twitching or your neck and/or shoulder locking up than just allowing simple short breaks throughout your day.

4. Schedule time between Zooms. This may sound like the same thing as taking screen breaks, but what I’ve found is that Zoom is a lot more draining that in person classes. I used to schedule Zoom calls back to back like I would classes (again, personal preference, but I was always the person who would take all of their classes from 9:30-3:30 on Tuesday/Thursday, and no classes on Monday/Wednesday/Friday), but found out pretty quickly that I was wrecked after two or more Zoom calls in a row. Honestly, now I won’t schedule any two Zoom calls within a half an hour of each other - between calls, I like to walk around, grab a snack, stretch, close my eyes and try and suppress the social anxiety that seems to accompany every Zoom class or meeting I’ve ever had. (Tangent: I’m thoroughly convinced southerners were not meant to operate Zoom calls. No one knows how to hang up the dang call without being rude because we were taught to have 30 minute conversations in a doorway on our way out.) Maybe there are people who can go on Zoom calls for three hours or so (and I’ve done that with friends, whether just working on group projects or hanging out), but my personal recommendation would be just to space it out more than normal if you’re able.

5. Create an ideal weekly schedule. This is not “your most productive week ever,” or “this is the rigid schedule you will follow for eternity with no deviations.” One of my most difficult adjustments in college was the changing schedules; maybe you were planning on finishing an important paper on Thursday night, only for your group project to decide to meet that night instead. And that will happen, even with virtual meetings (maybe especially with virtual meetings, as people definitely tend to overestimate your availability when it’s digital). What I’ve found that helps is to create an ideal weekly schedule, both in general and a more specific one at the start of the week, because that means that when things get shuffled around, you actually reschedule that thing that you wanted to do, whether it’s homework, yoga, or just...being alone for a bit. It allows you to still feel like you’re prioritizing your time and activities, even when your schedule changes with little to no warning.

Part Three: Some Final Thoughts

If you can invest in a second monitor, now might really be the time to do it. If you’d prefer, I used a laptop riser for most of college before this all happened (yay nerve damage in my neck!) and an external keyboard and mouse. I would just compare models and figure out what works best financially if that’s something you want to do.

Ultimately, if this doesn’t come across in every tip I post, please just be patient with yourself this semester. This is a weird time, and I know that starting your first semester you might be 100% committed to starting off strong or making a great first impression. And that’s awesome, but sometimes that just might not be realistic. Look at last week’s post on contacting your professor, and reach out early just to introduce yourself. Establishing a relationship early on is always good, but especially considering that this semester really might have moments where you need some extra time or grace from them. Can’t focus? Can’t find motivation? That’s understandable; we’re in a global crisis right now. Just listen to yourself and always put your health and the health of your loved ones before school. I hope that these tips can at least help you navigate your first year with a little less trepidation.

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

So that’s it for this entry! As always, if you have specific questions, please don’t hesitate to ask. Again, I am a student at an SEC university in the United States, so I’m not claiming to be an expert in all things, but I have TA'ed multiple freshman seminars, and will be making this series for the freshmen that I know starting at my school this year anyways, so putting them on this blog is no big deal. Next post (which will hopefully be up sooner than this one was) will specifically be on extracurriculars and virtual opportunities, so if you have specific questions on that as well, I’m all ears.

#studyblr #college tips #study tips #academia #first year of college #first year advice #first year tips #academiaipromise #zoom tips

26 notes · View notes

inventors-fair · 3 years

Text

Limited Engagement Commentary (Finally)

Trying to subtly slip this in before the commentary for this week’s challenge. Thanks again for your patience.

This Last week’s contest was a little bit different. Because the design space is narrow – and because the abilities tend to need lots of words – there was only a little bit of room to maneuver in, and yet (fortunately) there weren’t too many significant overlaps in the final designs. That said, it also means that many of the obstacles your submissions faced were similar, so rather than sound like I’m harping on about the same things, I’m going to take a less structured approach to my commentary this week. To that end, I’m also not going to spend time nitpicking templates for the draft effects, little used as they are. Anyhow, without further ado, we can dive in.

@aethernalstars - Whispergear Shifter

The callback to Whispergear Sneak here is cute, even if it did have me confusing which was which all week. The play pattern for this is to remove a relatively common card, and then you’re able to exchange it for one of three cards you chose not to include in your deck. There’s always a pretty high barrier to being worth not simply including a card you want (let alone three), and having to find both this and the card to activate it is probably difficult enough to make it not worthwhile in a lot of cases. The ideal use case would be to have lots of a single common that you would be playing anyway, and three situational cards that you wouldn’t want to mainboard, but even in that case I’m not totally convinced the value of ‘upgrading’ your playables into situational cards really makes the card worthwhile. It’s an interesting idea to add flexibility by accessing parts of your card pool you aren’t planning to play, this card just feels like it may introduce a few too many hoops to jump through to achieve that.

Anonymous - Soul Bargain

This is a really clever approach to a draft-matters removal. Black classically gets two-mana instant speed removal with relevant exceptions, and allowing your opponents to choose the exceptions based on their draft pools is such an interesting direction. There’s value both in revealing bombs (protecting your best cards, albeit with a high information cost) and in revealing commons (which also increases the value of those cards as they appear later in the draft). The biggest obstacle this one faces is tracking: seven different card names every time one of these is drafted is a lot of notation. Regicide required noting three different colors as it was drafted, and I would consider that about the most you would ever want to force players to track. If you could find a way to compress this down to track less information (treat the reveal like a vote, and only note the most voted for CMC or something), I think you’d have a really reasonable design on your hands.

@col-seeker-of-the-memiest - Preventative Reconaissance

This is a new take on white protection effects, protecting a player and their permanents from a specific set of cards your opponents reveal. I’m not sure whether it’s intended to be drafted early (to protect you from your opponents’ first-pick bombs) or late (to cover commons that will actually appear in more matchups), but I think that question is probably interesting enough to warrant the confusion. The bigger issues I see with this design are that it’s really narrow - effects like this don’t often make the cut in Limited to begin with, so it’s especially hard to imagine one that only works against one card per opponent being playable - and the amount of bookkeeping it demands in tracking seven essentially random card names. When you’re playing with this, you’ll likely find yourself (and your opponent) checking and re-checking your list of names every time an opponent plays a new threat. The end result is that this asks for a lot of attention during gameplay, but will rarely actually reward that attention in a meaningful way. The design asks some interesting questions, but I suspect the actual logistics of playing with it outweigh most of those benefits.

@deg99 - Lieske, the Collector

Interpreting Companion as a Limited-focused mechanic is an interesting take; it always struck me much more as a Constructed mechanic (since you have more control over your deck construction), with the occasions that you make Companion work in Limited being a fun exception. This card takes it in the opposite direction, having its Companion ability only able to be satisfied while drafting; indeed, all four of its abilities only function within the context of draft. The gameplay pattern this demands is that you remove creatures with desirable activated abilities rather than drafting them, and that you remove three creatures with the same name to turn on Companion. I think my biggest issue is that I struggle to see how this is ever better than just playing the creatures you’re removing with it. You’ll rarely ever turn on Companion with this (not least of all because it broadcasts to other players when you’re about to), and whether you do or not, the picks that you invest in it to make it playable should probably just be spent on cards that are playable themselves. I like the idea of a more Limited-oriented application of Companion, but I suspect there are other ways to approach that design space.

@dimestoretajic - Invoker of Sacrifice

I really liked what this one was trying to do, enough that seeing it in the workshop inspired a design of my own based on it. It’s a little hard for me to tell if the quirks of this one were conscious design decisions, or if they were attempts to make an initial design work without reconsidering the end result. Most cards like this that want to work only once simply turn themselves face down when you use them, and the only part of the chosen card you really need to note is its power; those two changes together would’ve streamlined the templating a lot. Also of note: this card is at its most interesting when it’s having you remove cards that could otherwise be playable for you, but the largest creatures you’re likely to see in draft will often be in green rather than red. That’s not to say the draft environment couldn’t have some high-power red things to tempt you with this, but it’s something to consider when your design starts pulling you in a direction like this one.

@fractured-infinity - Tibalt, the Chaosbringer

This is a pretty interesting card with a lot to evaluate: both how good it is when you bring in the three extra cards, and how good it is without them. Because this circumvents color requirements, it allows you to access cards you couldn’t just include in your deck anyway, but uses randomness as a cost for doing so. All of the mechanics of this card are easy to understand what they’re doing and work together in a cohesive way, which can be tough to do with 13 lines of abilities. The biggest obstacle this one faces is the same obstacle that any card that attempts to balance itself with randomness faces: if getting a free off-color bomb is the fun part it should probably do it more reliably, and if it isn’t then making it unreliable just means we’re allowing one in three games to not be fun. It does change the draft experience by allowing you to grab off-color bombs as you see them, but I’m not sure if that’s an improvement: draft relies on players getting passed the cards that only they can use, and this encouraging you to pick up those cards with no real downside seems disruptive to that process. That the ultimate and the downtick pull in different directions feels like interesting tension, but I think in practice it almost certainly just means that you won’t be using the ultimate. I would probably rearrange the uptick to make the loyalty counters dependent on exiling a card rather than the damage, that way ticking up to the minus (or the ultimate) actually requires you to reset the odds. There’s a lot going on for this card, as is always the case for planeswalkers, and a lot of it feels like good design work. Tibalt was a good choice for this kind of random effect, and I think with a little tweaking there’s probably something of value there.

@hiygamer - Leovold’s Enforcer

This design is encouraging you to include as many of your draft cards in your final deck as possible, generally lowering your average card quality to increase the quality of this one card. The ceiling is obviously quite high (a six-mana 20/20 with trample is very strong), but in a normal draft environment you’ll leave out 22 of your 45 draft picks (running the other 23 with 17 lands), making this nonfunctional without special consideration. Like others in this vein, it may work well with cards that remove picks from the draft altogether, though it would require a lot of support to remove enough to make this worth playing. The biggest issue this runs into is actually outside of draft: in Eternal and casual play, this is ‘just’ a six-mana 20/20, and while the theme for this week definitely encouraged you to look at cards through an explicitly Limited lens, it’s still important to consider what those cards do in other scopes. It’s generally more interesting (and safer) to reward players with extras that only work in the format than it is to assume the format and make downsides specific to it. Perhaps there’s space for a conspiracy (which are actually only playable in draft) that leans into similar space as this, as that would sidestep some of those issues.

@hypexion - Court Doppelganger

This is a cute take on a clone effect that is unique to Limited. I’m not sure why this one is a 3/3, as clones are typically 0/0 and this one doesn’t even have the downside of not having something to copy: as long as you noted a card while drafting, it just has access to that for 2UU, so also adding a floor of being a vanilla 3/3 seems unnecessary. I’m not a huge fan of the way cards like this encourage you to draft other player’s bombs - when another player in the draft pod watches you reveal an off-color mythic that would’ve been perfect for their deck that is now suddenly mono-blue for you, they’re going to know it was this card that undermined their draft - I think some restrictions as to what you can clone would go a long way. But the biggest issue that this one faces is actually logistical: this allows you to clone a card that exists somewhere within your deck without a point of reference, meaning that every time you play this card, you will need to call a judge to verify the Oracle text of the card it’s cloning. As a rule of thumb, any card that comes with a built-in judge call probably warrants a redesign to avoid that; something like one of our runners-up this week, which exiles the relevant card before the game for the ease of referencing it later on.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes - Riches to Rags

I think what I like most about this one is the way the in-game effect seems to align with the out-of-game effect - both effects encourage you to trash your two least favourite cards, either to or from two different places. Functionally, the out-of-game effect really doesn’t do anything: the last several picks in any pack aren’t much of a choice, so players always wind up with junk they would never play anyway. Each player choosing the two most worthless cards in their pool and shuffling them amongst nearby players doesn’t feel like a really meaningful decision, or that it’s likely to impact the games that follow in any real way. The design feels like there’s something to it, and perhaps with a few more restrictions it could create some more interesting scenarios with a similar framework.

@ignorantturtlegaming - Lutri, the Redeemed

I do love a good redemption arc (I assume that’s what the electricity in its paws is), and Lutri is definitely cute enough to deserve one. I like that this acknowledges some of the similarities of revealing cards before the game with the Companion mechanic, and it’s mindful to play in space that is familiar to Lutri as a character. This design actually comes so close to being especially interesting with a Commander Legends-style draft format, but because it actually casts the exiled card you wouldn’t get any extra value from additional castings of Lutri after the first. If it had used a format more similar to Arcane Savant, it would’ve been interesting in that sense...but that also highlights its biggest issue, simply that it feels very close to a card that already exists. That said, I understand most of the decisions that resulted in them being so similar, and I think with just a few changes you could carve out some space for this that Savant wouldn’t be able to touch.

@machine-elf-paladin - Prismatic Assistant

This takes what a lot of the other designs this week were doing, and pushes it in the opposite direction: looking at what you don’t have in your card pool. The obvious question is how big does this need to get to be worthwhile: if you play your entire pool, this would be a 4 mana 6/7, though that obviously impacts the average quality of your other draws. A four-mana 4/5 is pretty good by most colors’ standards, and that limits you to having two colors among your unplayables - so basically all of your pulls need to be in your colors. There’s a question of how many pool-removing cards you would need in a format to support something like this. I think the biggest issue is the logistics of revealing large numbers of possibly relevant cards from your sideboard - it’s correct for your opponent to want to record every card you reveal, even though the majority won’t ever be relevant. Lots of the designs this week struggled with managing the amount of information that they required to be tracked and shared, so I can’t be too hard on you, but it’s certainly something to keep in mind as you design cards like these.

@misterstingyjack – Coveted Bauble

As you probably noticed, your entry was actually surprisingly close to one of our winners this week, which you should take as a good sign! The idea behind your card was quite clever, and had it not been for its similarity to a winning design, surely would’ve been at least a runner-up. What gave the winner the edge over your Bauble was mostly the innovation of making the ability a keyword, but also a few logistical considerations that the winning version executed more cleanly. For instance, the only drafts that could reasonably be interpreted to have ‘turns’ are Competitive events with called (timed) drafts, with most casual events (like this would appear in) using zone, or even looser draft structures. Finding a way to make this ability work in those looser structures is admittedly tricky, but it was probably worth figuring out how to do.

@nicolbolas96 - Diplomatic Study

This one is also a lot like one of our winners this week, though this one plays up the advantages of trading more than either of the others. I quite like the flavour choices on this one, and I really like the design space of things that work best after having moved around the table a bit. The biggest frustration I have with this one is that because the upside is so big, it’s hard to imagine anyone feeling tempted to draft this in the first place - somebody has to, but nobody really wants to be the one stuck with it initially. I suppose it’s better the earlier in the draft you open it, but the card itself isn’t really the kind of game-winning bomb that would be likely to get traded for...well, a game-winning bomb. I think I’d like it if it offered a little more to incentivise taking it initially, so that trading it off is slightly more mutually beneficial when it inevitably happens. It’s worth noting that the “draft table” clause is kinda clunky, but I appreciate your trying to keep it reasonable for casual Constructed as well.

@partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff - Goblin Librarian

I saw your comment mentioning that you missed a line of text on the final version - I appreciate your pointing it out, as the design makes a lot more sense with that included. Missed lines don’t tend to win you prizes, but they do allow for better feedback. This is (supposed to be) a really cute design exploring how big of an advantage you have to offer for players to use their entire card pool. The flavour on this is top-notch, and the effect is interesting enough to make you wonder whether it’s worth trying. One clever quirk of the design is that it (almost) allows you to casually experiment with the Kablooey Decimal system, then switch back to your normal 40 if that isn’t working out. I would probably open it up to “card pool” rather than “cards you drafted”, both so that it theoretically works in Sealed (which this design can do more smoothly than most) and so that it includes basics you add to your pool after the draft (that’s the ‘almost’: since it doesn’t let you add basics, as written you do have to decide to include those in advance, but with a little tweaking that would be fixable). If I had any qualms, I do wish this had a slightly more meaningful in-game effect; I know it’s mostly there for the gimmick, but I think there’s flavourful mechanics that could make this card interesting even after the game begins as well.

@shakeszx - Chancellor of the Void

This wasn’t the challenge I expected to see a sixth Chancellor in, but I’m always a sucker for a good callback. That said, it’s important to recognise when making such a callback is valuable and when it isn’t. The Chancellor cycle has an identity as 4MMM creatures that have a small additional effect if you happen to have them in your opening hand. Now, this design does have an effect when it’s in your opening hand, but that effect doesn’t actually do anything when it’s revealed. What’s more, the whole card doesn’t do much of anything if it’s not in your opening hand: it’s a very hard to cast vanilla 4/4. On top of that there’s the concern that there’s never been a draft format where triple-colorless was a reasonably payable cost, as well as the logistical nuisance of your opponent counting your deck every time you reveal this card (to ensure you’re not accidentally on 41+ cards). Overall I get the feeling that this design was torn between doing something interesting in Limited and calling back to an old cycle, and both of those goals just got in the way of really delivering on the other.

@snugz – Sokenzan Onsen

I appreciate the attempt at subtlety, though I did try to let on that subtlety wasn’t expected with this week’s contest: I gave you free rein to explicitly reference elements of Limited. Unfortunately, it’s hard for me to agree that minimum deck size manipulation is primarily a Limited thing after watching Yorion terrorise Standard over the past six months. Challenge aside, something like Yorion’s success proves that for certain decks (namely Control variants) there is relatively little cost to adding extra cards, and in this case five cards is an especially small hoop to jump through. Logistically, it seems a little unpleasant to verify – when you play this on turn 3, your opponent suddenly needs to count your library, your hand, your graveyard, your battlefield, and anything you have in exile to make sure you actually had five over when you started. It’s honestly a pretty neat idea and I’d like to think there’s some design space for deckbuilding restriction duals, but I think there’s a little cleaning up to do on this one before it’s practical.

@starch255 – Shambling Scrapheap

I see what you were trying to do with this one: the balance between how many of these commons you keep in your deck (to increase how often you see it) and how many you leave out can create an interesting tension. I see why you say it’s most interesting in draft, as it’s certainly much less interesting as a 3-mana 4/4 that eats your sideboard slots. But even more than that I’d be worried about this in casual, where a card like this is actually liable to see play: where players are encouraged to collect them by the dozen, but where the result isn’t particularly fun when they do so. There’s definitely room in Magic for Relentless Rats-style cards that encourage players to collect lots of them, it’s just important to be mindful of what actually happens when a player finally ‘does the thing’, and whether what you’re subtly encouraging them to do makes the games where they do it more fun, or less.

@teaxch – Custodi Apocrypha

This is an interesting build-around rare that if drafted early allows you to really shape the rest of your draft around it, and automatically tells you something about the draft environment it must fit in. I think rare is probably the correct place for this to sit, both because it has a pretty huge color pie effect and because multiples in a single draft pod would create lots of competition for Auras. This is a solid design that I can imagine as part of an interesting draft format, and the only thing holding it back was that – as you noted – it’s just not doing anything especially breathtaking.

@thedirtside - Common Enemy

Thinking to use the other players in a draft pod (or sealed event) as a resource is a really clever take on this week’s challenge. Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s a way that the rules can actually support “players from outside the game” - I’m afraid it’s something that will be relegated to silver border for some time. I think the closest you could come to this would be to do the vote as part of the draft process: that reliably gives you seven other players, and the game can reasonably obligate them to make a choice (whereas this design currently doesn’t do much if there’s no one to ask or they decline to choose). In practice, this card seems awfully swingy - often you’re going to have players outside the game simply picking a winner, as anything more than one outsider results in very large life total changes. There’s a slight templating hiccup here as well: this spell as written only has one target, so you’d have to do a little reconfiguring for a spell like this to determine the correct number of targets as you’re casting it.

#inventors fair #magic #mtg #custom magic card #commentary #limited engagement #3smuth

7 notes · View notes

flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Photo

Mirabile Visu

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Chapter: 14/15 (technically it’s chapter 13/14 since there was a two part chapter, but you get the idea)

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you so much for your support and amazing feedback! It truly means the world! Oh my gosh, guys, we are so close to the end! Next chapter is the final one. The epilogue! I can’t believe it! I’m both excited and sad! Also to clarify, Jack refers to Sorina jokingly as “Van Helsing” because it’s the last name she’s used for nearly all her life--since she grew up with Agatha’s family. Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! I’d love to know your thoughts! I hope you enjoy! -Jen

Chapter Thirteen

Larpool Lane Cemetery

Present Time

Dental records. That's how far gone Zoe's body was when the coroner went to finally identify her. She felt horrible for thinking so, but Sorina was glad she didn't have to identify the remains. That would've been a task the halfling might've not been ready for. But they purchased a beautiful urn-purple, Zoe's favorite color-and bought a plot of land in the graveyard. A nice place that looked towards the trees. She would've liked that. And a simple, granite gravestone engraved with her name, date of birth and death, along with the words Beloved Aunt and Niece. Nothing fancy. Nothing that stood out. Simple. Like Zoe.

"I'm not leaving those stupid fabric flowers, Zoe deserves better."

Sorina stood over the tombstone, her eyes red as she clutched a bouquet of freshly cut daffodils in her right hand. Somehow, she had refrained from crying, but it was obvious that she was close to doing so. On either side of her, her parents stood. Agatha wore a black dress, something she had pulled from Zoe's closet. She felt a little guilty for wearing something that belonged to her late, great, great niece, but Sorina was fine with it. Dracula seemed rather distant as he stood close to his daughter, almost as if he was trying to listen out for something.

"Leave them, we can always replace them with more if the caretakers remove them."

Jack met Sorina's gaze, his mouth forming a small, encouraging smile. Since Zoe's death, he hadn't really left her side. While Dracula's and Agatha's home was in the remodeling process after The Foundation had damaged it, the four of them had been staying in what was now technically Sorina's home. She hadn't decided whether or not she wanted to sell it. From what any of them could gather, the halfing had yet to step foot into her aunt's room. He wasn't sure how long it would take before she had it in her to do so.

"I know this isn't exactly the ideal funeral." Agatha began, one hand absentmindedly resting on her still flat stomach. "But I'd like to say a few words, if that would be alright with you, Sorina?"

Her daughter nodded, clutching the flowers to her chest.

"I didn't know Zoe for very long. Only a few days, in fact. But I know how important she was to you and how she impacted your life as much as she did. You both had each other since her birth. She grew up around you and you, in a sense, around her. As a mother-your mother, it does my heart good knowing that someone was there to care for you, to love you, while your father and I were gone. I'll never be able to properly thank her for that. I'll still say it. Zoe, I am, and will always be, eternally grateful for everything you've ever done for my daughter. I wish I could have known you better, but I am glad we met. Even though it wasn't for very long."

Agatha took a step back, her eyes lifting from the grave to look at the others. Sorina remained silent, her own gaze still casted down at the slab of stone. It was only when Jack cleared his throat the silence was broken once more.

"I guess I'll go next." He swallowed, his voice already thick with emotion. "I wouldn't be where I am now without Zoe. When we first met, I was just a small fish in a big pond. I'd gotten into graduate school, but I honestly didn't know where to go from there. It wasn't until Dr. Van Helsing came to one of my lectures and spoke...something just clicked and I knew I had to reach out to her."

The young man smiled, shaking his head. "That's when I started working under her and then coincidentally met you." Sorina finally looked up, captured by Jack's attention. "If it hadn't been for Zoe's, I wouldn't have been lucky enough to know you. And I can't even imagine life without that. So thank you, Zoe. Thank you for everything."

A gentle breeze blew, brushing against the yellow flower petals. Sorina still had yet to say anything, her mouth pressed into a thin line. Agatha glanced at her husband, giving him a knowing look. Dracula's lips pursed, clearly not wanting to engage with a speech. Sure, Zoe had cared for his child, but he didn't see the need to make a statement on her behalf. But then again, there was Sorina. If anything, he needed to do it for her.

"Alright," he exhaled, Agatha frowning when he did so. "What to say. Well, as Agatha put it, I appreciate what you did for my Sorina. We had our differences, you and I. After all, you did try to…" His wife's dark glare made him reconsider his words. "You loved her, which is as much as I can ask of someone. Evidently, you provided protection too, seeing as what she is-what we are. And even though you apparently brought him into the picture…" His eyes narrowed at Jack. "I suppose you deserve a round of thanks. So thank you. For being there for my daughter."

Once more silence fell upon the group and Sorina could feel the other three pairs of eyes focus on her. Chewing on her bottom lip, a thumb pressing a small indent into one of the stems, she sucked in a sharp breath. Part of her wanted to turn away. To leave and pretend this wasn't happening. But her feet remained rooted to the ground as if paralyzed by some unseen force.

"I've known you since you were born." The words trembled as she spoke. "You grew up with me. We laughed, fought, and cried. I hated you, but I loved you more. When you had nightmares as a child, I let you sleep with me. I promised you I'd always be there, no matter what. And I tried, Zoe. I really, really did."

Tears began to stream down her cheeks, but no one moved to touch her. She was grateful for that.

"We both knew the end was coming. When you were diagnosed with cancer. I just didn't think…" She paused, trying to recollect herself. "None of us saw that this was going to be the end. But I'm glad I was there when it happened. That you weren't alone…" The halfing gave a wet smile, her cheeks glistening in the sunlight from her tears. "I'll never forget you, Zoe. No matter how many decades, centuries, millenniums I live through, you'll always be in my heart. I love you."

With the utmost care, Sorina bent down and placed the flowers over the gravestone. She stayed there for a moment to take it all in. It didn't register that her mother and Jack had left her side, making their way back to the car when she felt her father's hand on her shoulder. The halfling stood up, meeting her father's eyes.

"She's gone." He said quietly, his daughter caught off guard by his words. "I've been listening and she's no longer here suffering."

"What do you mean?" Sorina questioned, brow furrowed in misunderstanding. "Of course she's dead. We all saw her!"

"I mean, she's not trapped here," the vampire explained. "Sometimes the dead are restless. Stuck here forever in this plane of existence. If you pay attention, you can hear them." His stare remained locked on hers. "Focus, Sorina. Listen."

Though wary of her father's words, Sorina closed her eyes and listened closely. At first, she heard nothing, just the wind in the trees. Then, ever so softly, the moaning began. The calling. Corpses begging for their freedom. Fear struck her in the heart and she pressed against Dracula.

"What...who…" She stumbled, looking around wildly. How she hadn't experienced this before, she was unsure. She'd visited cemeteries throughout the decades. Year after year of losing loved ones. But perhaps she closed herself off to the idea of death and what lay beyond its gates. After all, she'd never experience the end herself. "I don't understand…"

"It's more apparent at night," Dracula responded. "But they can't hurt you. You needn't be afraid."

Sorina did her best not to think about which of her relatives were forced to become the undead, rotting away in their coffins under the surface. Running a hand through her long, thick hair, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I'm tired of losing people that I care about," she mumbled. "I want it to stop. To be done with it once and for all." Sorina glanced at her father. "Swear to me that you and Mum will never leave again. No matter what happens, we'll be a family. That if you go, you take me with you. And Jack too."

Of course, as much as he'd like to admit it, he wasn't keen on the idea of taking Jack anywhere. Getting used to the fact still that Sorina was no longer a little girl, but a grown woman was hard enough. Knowing that she was romantically involved with someone was much more difficult. But he knew she needed to hear those words, and knew that deep down he truly meant them.

"No matter what," he swore, pulling his daughter into a tight embrace. "We will always be a family." A promise he intended on keeping this time.

Dracula's and Agatha's Home

Six Months Later

"Don't I have any say in on how my child's nursery looks?"

Agatha's lips pursed as she eyed Sorina from her rocking chair, both hands resting on her swelling abdomen. Her daughter had taken to becoming the interior designer of the room, not giving her mother much freedom to add her input. It had been decided that the theme would be the night sky. Sorina, of course, had gone with the idea as the moon and the stars were the very first glimpses she saw of the outside world.

"Trust me, Mum, in the end, you're going to like it." Sorina promised, adding another brush stroke of dark, navy paint to the wall. "And put on your mask. The fumes can't be good for the baby."

Her mother frowned at her bossy tone, but did as she said. It was rather bothersome how overprotective everyone seemed to be over her. Dracula rarely letting her get up off her feet to do anything. Had he forgotten she'd been pregnant once before-and as a human at that? Nevertheless, for her own sanity, she allowed them to wait hand over foot on her. Sometimes she secretly liked it.

"Jack, if you make the slightest nick in my crib, I will make you regret the day you were born."

The screwdriver dropped from the young man's hand as he met the vampire's dark glare. Instead of ordering a pre-designed cradle, Dracula wanted to replicate the same one he'd made for Sorina well over a century ago. It was a nostalgic idea that Agatha really liked. But of course, it would've been a lot better if her husband didn't continually threaten her daughter's poor boyfriend.

"Leave him alone, Dad. He's just trying to help!" Sorina threw a look at her father over her shoulder. "This is supposed to be a bonding exercise."

"Would it be more helpful if I just brought the blankets and things into the room?" Jack suggested, desiring to be anywhere but beside the vampire. "I think there were packages delivered earlier."

"Just mind the walls," Dracula exhaled loudly. "And don't trip, I don't want to spend another several hours at the clinic because you got a concussion."

It'd only happened once, just a few weeks back. Jack had been helping move some things when he tripped over the living room rug. He hit his head pretty hard, scaring Sorina the most. But in the end, after a long visit to the hospital and having to stay awake for twenty four hours, everything had been fine. Though Dracula hadn't exactly forgotten the minor "inconvenience" it caused him.

"I'll come and help you, Jack." Sorina exclaimed, frowning at her father as she set the brush down into the pail. "There can't be that many."

As the two disappeared down the steps, Agatha turned her attention to her husband. "Why must you be so rough with him?" She inquired irritably. "The boy has done absolutely nothing to you."

"He's dating my daughter," Dracula replied with a shrug, focused on the legs of the crib. "I'm allowed to disapprove of my child's significant other. It's nothing personally, really. I just want what's best for her."

"What's best for her is being happy," his spouse commented. "And Jack makes her happy."

"And I want her to be happy," the count agreed. "Just not with Jack." He seemed to pause for a moment as if in deep thought. "Or with anyone really. There is nothing wrong with being single. I was so for centuries."

"But now you have me," Agatha added. "And I'd like to think that perhaps I was the best thing that ever happened to you?"

"Well yes, you and Sorina," he agreed. "But that's different."

"How so?"

It was a good question, he'd give her that. Smirking, he stood up and made his way over to her. Agatha eyed him curiously as he rested his hands on either arm rest of the rocking chair.

"For starters, you are positively attractive, in both appearance and wit. You had the audacity to try to kill me." He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to her's. Agatha chuckled, smirking softly. "And you are quite talented in your bed." His wife snorted, swatting at him. "You know it's true."

"Let Sorina decide what's good for her and what isn't," the former nun replied. "It's her life after all." She smiled fondly and took a hold of his hand, pressing it down where the baby just kicked. "Besides, we have enough on our plate with this little one coming. Our daughter is a smart girl, she'll do the right thing."

Dracula stared at his wife, his thumb gently caressing over the spot where the infant had moved. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew it was the truth. He had to let Sorina make her own decisions-despite it being so hard to watch.

"Fine," he exhaled. "But if he breaks her heart, I won't hesitate to kill him."

"And I'll help you dispose of the body," Agatha added lightheartedly. "Now, can you move that dresser just a tad to the right? It's blocking part of the window."

XXX

Jack noticed the look of concern plastered on Sorina's face as they stared down at the many parcels sitting by the door. He knew that expression all too well-she had misplaced something. Pursing her lips, she mentally counted the boxes to make sure of it. The halfling was certain now. One of them was in fact missing.

"It's the breast pump." Sorina frowned, pinching the brim of her nose. "I specifically ordered that special for her."

"Not that it is any of my concern, but your mum's going to...nurse?" Jack ventured hesitantly. "Isn't she worried about...you know…"

"Fangs?" The halfling chuckled, an amused expression crossing her features. "Exactly why I ordered the damn thing in the first place. Apparently I did a number on her and I don't think she's going to let me forget it anytime soon." Scratching the back of her head, Sorina sighed. "I don't know where it could've gone. I'm sure I put on the correct address."

"Is it possible it's at the house?" And by the way Sorina tensed up, he knew he didn't need to specify further. "I can drive by and see if it was dropped off there. You can just stay here and…"

"No." She cut him off abrupt, waving her hand. "No...I'll go with you. It's been awhile anyway."

"Are you sure?" He asked, making sure her eyes locked onto his. "Sunny, if you are uncomfortable. I can go alone. It's probably sitting out front anyway. It'd just take a second."

She shook her head and forced a smile. "I need to get out of the house anyway. The smell of paint gave me a headache. Some fresh air would do me some good."

He wasn't about to argue with that. Digging around in his pockets, he produced his car keys. His ride was nothing special-a beat up, old yellow buggy he'd gotten used as a graduation present. But it did its job fine. Once Sorina had climbed in on the passenger's side, he started it up and pulled onto the road.

"I was thinking we could go out to that little Italian place you like for dinner." The young doctor suggested, attempting to stir up some conversation. "Maybe go see a movie afterwards?"

Sorina merely stared out the window, the wind blowing through her dark hair. "Only if you let me pay this time." She didn't need to look over to know Jack was frowning. "C'mon, we agreed that we'd share expenses. I don't need you paying for everything. I have money too."

"Why can't you just let me court you like in the good old days." He smiled, Sorina gaping at him in mock astonishment. "When life was simpler. I'd take you for a walk, we'd talk until after dusk, and I'd walk you to your doorstep before giving you a peck on the cheek. No need to rile your parents up about being out late."

Dr. Seward," Sorina gasped. "Are you calling me old?"

"I've always been fond of mature women." He explained, Sorina shoving him playfully. "Well, only when it came to you."

"I'm 123 years young, thank you very much." The halfling declared proudly, straightening up in her seat. "And I'll have you know I'm very selective. I don't just pick out any boy I like. In fact, I fancy just one."

"Should I be jealous?" He inquired, cocking an eye questioningly. "Do I know this man you speak of?"

"Oh, you should be quite envious," Sorina smirked. "He's very kind and charming. And quite handsome at that. I've been seeing him too, you know."

"Miss Van Helsing you scandalous thing." Jack chuckled, leaning over to kiss her. "What am I to do with you?"

"Anything you like." The way she said it made a shiver run down his spine. His stomach fluttering in such excitement he'd be too embarrassed to admit it. "As long as it isn't around my father." And there went the feeling completely.

Zoe Van Helsing's Residence

When they pulled up into the driveway, Sorina fell quiet again. Already from the car, Jack could clearly see the package resting on the porch. As he opened his door to get out, he was taken aback when the halfing did the same. Saying nothing, she made her way up the steps, retrieving a familiar gold key that hid under the rug.

"Sunny…" He began, but the woman had already turned the lock, pushing the door open. "Sunny, wait!"

The interior of the house was dark as the two entered inside. For the sake of not tripping over anything, Jack flipped on the light switch. Everything looked just as they left it. Sorina not bothering much in the few times she'd come over for things. Mostly she moved about between her parents' place and his. Though it was technically her's, Sorina still had yet to call it "home" once more.

"Did you forget something?" He asked, following her as she made her way down the hall. "I thought everything was packed up?"

"I just want to grab something, okay?" She responded, finally stopping in her tracks. "For the baby's room."

Jack's heart skipped a beat when he realized where they were standing. The outside of Zoe's room. A forbidden location that had almost remained untouched since the funeral. He felt as if he should say something. Anything. Maybe advise her against going in. Offer her support. Instead he remained silent, watching as she carefully turned the knob.

It was just as Zoe had left it. Bed well made, stacks of paper by her computer. Even a bottle of medication sat at her desk. But Sorina seemed to ignore all of that. She walked over to a shelf, acting as if nothing else was in the room. Gingerly, she lifted an object up and Jack realized immediately what it was. A picture frame.

Zoe. A much younger, healthier looking Zoe smiled back at him through the glass. She wore her hair down and in her hands she grasped a certificate. A diploma from her years at medical school. By her side, arm wound around her, grinned the brilliant, bright eyed Sorina. They looked so happy together. Happier than he'd ever seen his late mentor look. When Sorina finally turned around, there were tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I think this will look nice in the baby's room." She whispered with sorrowful, and yet hopeful smile.

Jack pulled her in close, kissing the top of her head as he too gazed down at the picture.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It's perfect."

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Mirabile Visu

11 notes · View notes

hotshithaxxorbitch · 4 years

Text

Dirk&Roxy==> Get Engaged

Dirk

Just because you're the new Champion doesn't mean you stop camping with your Pokemon, so it was no surprise Roxy was in the room with the Switch, and that's exactly what Dirk was planning. So it was right on queue when he kicked down the wall from the other side, revealing the secret passage he had been constructing and finished with this dramatic entrance. Clapping dust out of his hands and shaking debris out of his hair, he nodded to them. "Rox, come check this out. I made a passage to the top of the mountain."

Roxy

Roxy was stooped over the switch, eagerly shaking a little feather wand in the face of her sylveon, Peppa. Her trance was interrupted when suddenly a nearby wall literally burst open in front of her. Startled, she let out a shriek, the switch falling into the couch cushions as she moved. Standing in the hole the wall left was Dirk, dusting himself off and asking her to follow him through a mysterious tunnel. Just a day in the life, tbh. "Is this what you've been doin' for the past month? But sure, let's go, give me a minute to throw on clothes, I'm sure it's cold in there." Roxy waved an arm around before ducking into her room. She knew Dirk, and he'd been particularly weird lately, and he was definitely up to something. She was also pretty sure it was about to pay off, whatever the fuck it was, so she wanted to pull herself together. Once she was dressed and presentable and like, wearing shoes, she returned to the common room. "Aye aye, cap'n, let's go."

Dirk

He held out his hand, letting them take hold before he led her up the large tunnel. It was very roughly hewn, an obvious rush job, but very clearly structurally sound and safe. He wasn't nervous, not really. He had planned it out very carefully and had already processed his emotions about the whole thing some time ago. He was confident. "You ever go to the top of the mountain? It'd be even easier for you than me, since you could just phase through and I have to go outside or use one of the other tunnels I made. I go up there sometimes." Well, a lot more real recently, but it was true, sometimes he climbed to the top just to breathe for a bit. It was why he knew around now would be a good time. The lighting was perfect.

Roxy

She followed along beside him, letting him slip his hand into hers as she started up the tunnel. "A few times, yeah, but not in awhile. I don't think I've been up since we really got settled in here."

Dirk

"I like it. It's weird, even though my planet of Sburb was just tall ass buildings, I liked it. Something about being up high calms me down." It was eerie, how easy this stuff rolled out of him. He normally had trouble pushing aside his metaphorical shades. Maybe Roxy has been more of an influence on him than he realized. "You know, this whole mountain thing started out as a massive joke, and also a way to ensure a large and secure base of operations, I keep finding myself decorating it like a home too. You seen the carpet I added to the southern hallways? Shit makes you forget there's nothing but pure hard stones it's so soft."

Roxy

"Well, you did spend your formative years in a big ol' skyscraper above the floods, so I 'spose that makes sense." Roxy smiles up at Dirk, leaning over and popping her hip into his. "Of course it's a home, dummy, we live here. We may be freaky clone babies, and you may like to pretend to be a lifeform that's evolved beyond the need for basic emotions, but we're still regular old pack bond happy humans." She laughed quietly, nodding. "Yeah, that shit is plush."

Dirk

His lips tilted upwards slightly, in what some scientists could possibly argue was technically a smile as he yanked them up a little faster, picking up the pace. "You remember that question you asked a while ago, and I told you we would talk about it later? You know, about marriage and whatever?"

Roxy

Roxy sped up slightly as Dirk tugged on her arm. He was smiling, or at least what passed for smiling for Dirk. "Ah yes, my very eloquently composed response followed by you sayin' "We'll talk later bye" and digitally running out of the room?" She smirked at him playfully, quirking an eyebrow. "Yes, I remember."

Dirk

They finally reached the top, coming out through an admittedly small door. The sun was setting at just the right angle, and the clouds were the right shape to reflect the golds and reds and pinks of the slightly darkening sky. There was a large statue of two people, very obviously Dirk and Roxy but a good nine feet tall. The Dirk figure was looking out at the sky, his face set in Dirk's default (and arguably only) facial expression: stone faced stoicism, which worked quite well in stone. The Roxy figure had a hand on his shoulder and was looking back and down at them, their other hand reaching down as if to invite whoever was looking to join them. Some real sappy and legendary shit, honestly. There was a small box in the palm of the stone Roxy's hand. "My answer's in that." said Dirk, gesturing to said box.

Roxy

Dirk pulled them both up out of the tunnel and up to the mountain's peak, any questions Roxy had about what he'd been up to lately. He'd been carving the top of the mountain into a statue. Of them. Well, that was certainly very Dirk, wasn't it? Sitting in the statue's palm was a small box, which Dirk was gesturing to as he spoke. Logic very clearly dictated what was in that box based on context. Roxy came to a halt, her hands drifting up to hover over her mouth. She was frozen in place, her eyes struck wide. "Dirk..." she stammered quietly "Is this...? Are you...?"

Dirk

Dirk shrugged, gesturing to the box again, his hand on the small of her back. "What, like it would change anything between us? I fully plan on spending the rest of my eternal life with you in it. And if that means doing things like making a big fucking fuss about how we'll always be on our own side, then this party's going to be weird as shit." He pushed her forward, gently. "Just take the box."

Roxy

Roxy stepped forward, glancing back at Dirk, equal parts nervous and curious as she tried to glean literally anything off of his face. Carefully, she picked the box out of the giant stone version of her hand and pulled the lid open.

Dirk

The ring glinted in the burning sunset, the intricate patterns all across the outside resembling electrical circuitry. The gem glowed softly, a deep pink with some sort of light in its center that flickered like a living thing. Handmade every step of the way by the man himself. Dirk had taken off his shades. He took a deep breath, his arms held out to the side lightly as he stood behind her. "Let's get human married, you weirdo."

Roxy

A sound escaped from Roxy, somewhere between a manic giggle and a sob, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She nodded, not quite trusting herself to formulate english, or any other languages, in that exact moment. Her eyes flicked from the ring, pink and glowing softly from within, up to Dirk, who had pushed his shades up into his hair to let her see his eyes. Roxy nodded again, her head bobbling rapidly as she did. She held the open ring box towards Dirk. "Put it on for me?" she asked quietly, smiling with watery eyes.

Dirk

He rolled his eyes, but they were smiling more than his lips as he took the ring out of the box, batted said box aside and gently took her hand. He slid it on, like how he'd slipped it on hundreds of times to the exact replica he had made. He'd made sure it would fit perfectly.

Roxy

Roxy grasped Dirk's hands as he made to pull back after slipping the ring on her finger, pulling him back closer to her. She took a moment to look down at their clasped hands, and the pink stone glittering on her ring finger. With her other free hand, she reached up and cupped the side of Dirk's face and grinned at him. "Yeah, let's get human married."

Dirk

There was a rumble in his throat that was in the philosophical range of a laugh or chuckle. He bent forward ever so slightly and pressed his lips to hers.

Roxy

Roxy leaned up, returning Dirk's kiss and burrowing him into him before looking up at him, beaming. "Hey. I love you. Weirdo."

NEW MESSAGES

Dirk

"I know. Me too." He didn't even break the hug, he just lifted her up and started the descent down the mountain again. "It's getting cold, and I have rubble to clean out of the game room."

#plot #closed #we did it kids

10 notes · View notes

imagine-x-loki-x-aquaman · 5 years

Photo

Request by: @bloatedandlonly

Original Request: Hey. Can I request a Orm x reader where he is engaged to the half human daughter of Poseidon who absolutely hates the ocean and being in it. Maybe the hate each other in the start.

Pairing: Orm Marius x Reader

Word Count: 1,200

Warnings: None

A/N: I hope you enjoy this fic, hun. I am terribly sorry it took so long. Let me know what you think of it xoxo

I stood quietly by the curtained windows that opened out onto a balcony where the murmuring of the sea waves kindled their own hypnotic symphony. Though, I had been much too angry to admire the beauty of the sea as I turn my attention to my mother with a strong glare. She sat upon the couch inlaid with bone and ivory in her silk garment of sangria purple and though her clothes subtly suggested Atlantean royalty, her face conveyed wisdom and simplicity.

“Is this marriage in means of a punishment?” I question and my mother sat forward as she watched me with an expression of bewilderment.

“How can you speak such words, my dear?” She stood up from the couch, then touched my cheek with the back of her palm. “Marriage is meant to be a beautiful promise through eternity. A vow to try the hardest you have ever tried in your life. Marriage is a place for the achievement of a personal integrity.”

“Yes but by your doing.” My words tighten in anger yet my mother did not speak but I notice a flicker of emotion cross her face. “This arrangement is not of my own free will and certainly not of desire of my heart. I am to be wed only for the good of Atlantis and for its citizens and you simply command me to be happy by being a mere pawn in a political arrangement.”

“It would not be a political arrangement if you grow to love him.”

“Love him?” I look at her bewildered as my ire rose. “He’s a man who’d rather people fear him as a manipulative, ruthless King than respect him. I cannot love someone of such characteristics.”

“My dear, you are the daughter of Poseidon.” My mother pronounced as she took a hold of my shoulders. “You were destined for this fate.”

“A fate to become an embarrassment to all of Atlantis.” I retorted.

“Such a shame that my soon-to-be wife thinks of me in such a manner.” A low voice suddenly spoke as it shook me. I stiffen my back at the sight of Orm entering my room. Both, my mother and I turned to look at the strong, towering stature of the King of Atlantis, his eyes like pale sapphires bore a hard expression as he looked at me from across the chamber. At once my ire rose, though, Orm did not seemed to be troubled by my angering demeanour as he swept his gaze over my body and studied the way I filled out the silk tunic of the deepest green.

I flushed under his gaze and my mother walked over to his side, the hems of her dress dancing around her feet as she did so.

“Queen Actaea,” Orm greeted my mother with a sharp nod yet a familiar touching to the face. “I apologize but might I have a moment with your daughter in privacy?”

“Certainly,” my mother replies, smiling and caresses his cheek with her thumb. She passes a meaningful glance towards me and shuts the door. Orm seated himself upon a cushioned chair and I shifted my feet uncomfortably, doing my best to avoid his intense gaze. “Will you not sit for a moment?”

“You do not command me at my own house, Ocean Master.” I say with clipped words and clenched fists at my sides.

“I was merely trying to be polite. After all - ”

“Why have you come here?” I question as I finally look him in the eyes. “To ridicule of what’s to become of me? Or perhaps to gloat?”

Orm clenched his jaw as he leaned against the cushioned chair. “It saddens me that you only think of me as a malevolent person. (Y/N), you know that I am not especially adept at expressing my personal emotions and feelings but I shall try.”

The Ocean Master paused momentarily to meet my eyes and see if my expression had softened from his words but my frustration with him was still evident. Thus, he licked his lower lip and continued,

“Over the months that we have been engaged, I have acted in ways that you have deemed to be cruel. I would simply like to emphasize that I do not wish for you to undergo any further suffering due to my harsh behaviour. So, from now and onwards as my wife, and I as your husband, I wish for our hearts to find a tranquil normality, so to speak.”

I stood by the windows, the curtains swayed from the warm breeze as I gazed at the beauty yet mysterious vastness of the ocean while contemplating over the sincere tone of Orm’s words but I said nothing. Though his words struck me, I knew I would not be able to live in Atlantis as I had grown very fond of my own quiet world here whereas Orm’s world never stopped. My lips trembled as thoughts of living under the enormity of the ocean roamed my mind. My hands began to shake and I clasped them together so it would not appear that I was afraid.

“(Y/N), please say something.” Orm speaks as I heaved a heavy sigh.

I gaze into his eyes and unfamiliarly so, it seems to calm me from my terrified thoughts of the ocean. “I accept your apology, Orm. And I do apologize myself for my own dissonant behaviour towards you.” I reply as I take a seat next to him. “It would be good to find a sense of tranquility between us. But as you already know, I...cannot live in Atlantis.”

Orm smiles and for the first time, I see it reach his eyes as the creases underneath deepen. “I know. That is why I will do what my mother had done before with Arthur’s father.”

I frown, puzzled at the meaning of his words. “And what might that be?”

“I will return here every day, at sunrise.” He replied.

I roll my eyes and rise to my feet. “Whatever the King wishes. I believe you can see yourself out the door or shall I escort you there?”

Orm laughed and proceeded to take my hand in his before I had the chance to leave. “(Y/N), have you not heard from one of the greatest poets of the ancient times that love is a warfare?”

“Yes, a quote of Ovid.”

“And I add to that by saying, I’d be most privileged to rise as it’s victor knowing that the prize of the war is a fair goddess such as yourself. I promise you’ll make a great Queen of Atlantis. Even from here, at shore.”

“I am a prize of warfare?”

Orm chuckles once more as he caresses the back of my hand with his thumb. “I meant no disrespect, my lady. It was meant only as a compliment.”

“Just leave, Ocean Master.” I say, pulling my hand away from his grasp and I hold out my hand towards the door. “I shall see you at sunrise.”

Orm looks outside the balcony, beyond the sea as the sun reflected upon the sparkling waves. He turns his attention back to me, saying, “That is a promise.”

#aquaman #orm marius #king orm #orm x reader #orm imagine #dc comics #dc orm #aquaman imagine #orm marius x reader

498 notes · View notes

jade-ngoc-yeshim · 4 years

Text

1. The M.O.

Why did I start this blog? I have no plain and straightforward answer to offer; it’s a coalescence of several factors—some tangible; some I’ve yet to identify; and some rustling around in the pit of my stomach, for which I lack the words to will into coherence. But I will try my best to explain:

2019—my 25th year of existence—I will always reflect on and refer to as “The Crumbling.” It was the year when I lost myself to a number of competing forces: work, love, extraordinary circumstances, and the cyclical churn of life. Those who’ve known me for a long time would characterize me as incredibly stable; risk-averse; always planning for the long-term; cripplingly self-aware; and always doggedly marching uphill towards a set of well-defined, high flying goals. My tunnel vision was impressive. My modus operandi clearly articulated. My drive unflappable.

The inertia behind it all was guilt. I had guilt about a lot of things:

Firstly, I had access to the full gamut of opportunities that were ripped away from my parents by war and displacement. I had to make up for this as their only child. Fuck selfish millennial self-realization. I had to live for three.

Secondly, my birth-given liminality. That I, as a second-generation immigrant/migrant/refugee (whatever legal or sociocultural label you deign to ascribe to my personhood), stand at the boundary between homeland and foreign land (cum new “home”), Vietnam and America, past and present. It is difficult to occupy two spaces; oftentimes, I feel that I am in neither, and that the only comfortable place to inhabit is the hyphen that tenuously connects “Vietnamese” and “American.” To straddle two identities is to be constantly uncomfortable. It requires a lot of shifting, recalibration, and a lot of stumbling. I was never Vietnamese enough, and so others shamed my parents for not doing a good job in raising me. I was never American enough, and so I shamed myself into invisibility.

Third, being a Vietnamese woman. The consequences of veering off-course extend far beyond you. The stories uttered in hushed tones about one’s paternal second cousin twice removed from Cleveland or what have you: She had such promise. She had the potential to become an engineer or doctor—to elevate her family’s social status. But she just had to succumb to the vices of the typical Vietnamese woman: boys, hard substances, and the cold, hard draw of under-the-table cash from working in auntie’s nail salon. And so my existence as a young, OK-looking, Vietnamese-American woman in a foreign land with many foreign ideas inherently made me a flight risk. And so be it. And so it is.

Turns out, guilt is a great motivator. It led me to unbelievable achievements at a very tender age: becoming valedictorian of my high school class; being the first of my family’s generation to go to college; graduating summa cum laude from an Ivy League institution; becoming a Rhodes Scholarship finalist in one of the most competitive districts in the U.S., winning a full scholarship for a master’s program in the United Kingdom; graduating with high marks from the world’s best refugee and migration studies course at the University of Oxford; landing my first real job working for USAID; and having the privilege of serving as a Program Officer for the Syria humanitarian crisis during some of the most tumultuous times in the war’s history.

But what is the point of great material achievement when it comes at the expense of other, more important aspects of your life?

For most of my adult life thus far, I have foregone love, social engagements, precious time spent with family, and beloved hobbies in the ruthless pursuit of achievement. I let go of art, music, good men, and good times. I was constantly hunched over my laptop, producing—worrying my friends and family sick in my permanently crooked state. And I kept going, motivated by a dangerous cocktail of excitement over how much I was gaining and the eternal damnation of imposter syndrome. I thought that I can rest only when I become successful, with no clearly identifiable marker or metrics for success.

I get easily carried away, but I am not stupid. I knew the bubble had to burst at some point.

I just didn’t know how violently it could.

///

“The Crumbling” was a sudden conflagration with a long kindling period. The first match was struck at Oxford, when my lack of romantic savvy led to my falling in lust/infatuation with a narcissistic, well-networked man who offered me manufactured kindness during a very confusing time in my life. To put things colloquially, I was “lost in the sauce.” I was fixated on how much I didn’t belong at my graduate institution and felt so sorry for myself. I craved validation and understanding; it was the soporific I needed for my weeks’ long insomnia, the Xanax for my constant worries, and the energy boost I needed to wake me from my malaise. I was emotionally hemorrhaging. And smelling blood, he barreled towards me.

He raped me when I was drunk in my own bedroom. He weaponized the insecurities I shared with him against me. He further emptied me of whom I was, spun a narrative of how I was a pitiful, love-drunk woman who deserved what he done to her; and made my home away from home a fundamentally unsafe place. And the only coping mechanism I knew was to dive head-first into work—to fill my empty spaces through the only way I knew: producing.

It was the wrong answer. But I managed to see myself through to the end of my master’s with it, albeit with a few sacrifices: Never attending my own graduation out of fear of seeing my rapist again. A bitter distaste for life. An inherent fear of men and relationships (and of my own shadow) that went long unresolved. Strained communication with my parents. And a further shattered sense of self-worth.

///

Things were fine for a year or so when I was caught up in a flurry of new beginnings: moving to a new city, starting a dream job in a dream organization, and making my first furtive steps into adulthood. I was occupied with finding my identify as a young professional and invested my heart and soul into my new career. And on a fateful afternoon in September 2018, I was tapped for my first humanitarian deployment to Adana, Turkey—a three-month commitment that doubled just a month into my stay.

It was thrilling. It was exhilarating. It was empowering to be the face of U.S. humanitarian assistance in northern Syria at 24. But as exciting as it was, it was also overwhelmingly terrifying to sit at the helm of a humanitarian juggernaut as the trajectory of American foreign policy changed overnight. From December onward, Turkey was an amalgam of mild PTSD, living in hotels, unpacking and re-packing, armored vehicles, Jack Daniels, furtive puffs of Marlboro Milds, military men, street cats, insecurity, getting rowdy, hardened alternative trailer systems, over-caffeination, and exhaustion.

I traveled to beautiful places. I broke hearts, and I encountered love. I was where the action was. I was living out my wildest dreams. I had purpose. I felt alive, and maybe for the first time. I sincerely believed that I would always look back at Turkey as my golden era.

/// Wheels down ADA-FRA-IAD. Enter “The Crumbling” in full force. ///

What does it mean when the “golden era” of your life—the moment when you most felt alive—was wholly illusory?

When you look back several months later, scratch through the vermeil, and find nothing but the shaky foundations underpinning your drawn-out, whisky- and cardamom-scented daydream?

When the person you fell in love with—the first after being raped, the one who earnestly listened to you recounting your survivor story—ended up emotionally using and abusing you, as well?

When, despite putting in blood, sweat, and tears into your work (quantified at approximately 10-12 hours a day, inclusive of weekends), your supervisor tells you to reconsider whether humanitarian work is right for you?

When deployment is no longer an option for you because of that, and you come face-to-face with the crushing reality that you never built a life in your home base. (Rephrased: When there is no escape from the void.)

When the wounds finally start to seal up, and then your grandfather passes away. And suddenly you’re shoulder-to-shoulder at his altar with the extended family who narcissistically abused you during your youth? (Re: The past rears its ugly head again.)

The symptoms of all of this occurring within a 3-month timespan were:

Losing 20 pounds;

Vacillating between sleeping constantly and not at all;

Your loved ones remarking that the light in your eyes has completely vanished;

Hours and hours of self-help podcasts;

A lot of consolatory chocolate from coworkers who’ve noticed that something is terribly amiss with you;

Near-constant mental haze;

Ostinatos of teary-eyed apologies to your friends, whom you’re convinced you’ve burdened;

Manic consumerism;

Trying to harvest endorphins through prolonged cardio sessions;

Taking a lot of strange vitamins and supplements that didn’t do anything, other than make you dehydrated;

Frequent panic attacks; and

Desperate forays into various branches of spirituality (inclusive of a cheap [actually not cheap at all] psychic who tells you that you’re the victim of both black karma and an inter-generational love curse [!]…but at least she had an adorable cat.).

Tl;dr: It’s depression. Horrendous, soul-crushing depression, and constant anxiety over the other shoe dropping. It’s coming to terms with the daunting reality that the only way out is to roll your sleeves up and start laying the foundations of your identity brick-by-brick. It’s coming to grips with the fact that you have no sense of self outside of what you do. What is the point of accumulating achievements when you never pause to appreciate them?

What is the point of working tirelessly for others, when you make no time to sit with them and to enjoy all of the abundance together? What is the point of life when it is all prospective?

Do you truly have a sense of self when you have relied on others to give you meaning your entire life?

///

As the thick haze of “The Crumbling” dissipated, I arrived at a bit of clarity: That what had passed had not happened to me, but for me. That the shaky foundations on which I rested my already fragile sense of self needed to collapse—that I needed to collapse—in order to build something that was truly steady and purposeful.

All is not lost. On the contrary, the ashes borne from the waves of trauma that I endured over these past several months are but the rich inputs for a more fortified way of being.

I would be remiss to not document the process along the way. A process I will affectionately refer to as “The Awakening.”

#blog #diary #depression #awakening #tw: rape #tw: abuse #tw: mental health #tw: violence

2 notes · View notes

pengiesama · 5 years

Text

The Blue Bird (Fic, TOZ, Sorey/Mikleo, Fairy Tale AU)

Title: The Blue Bird Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Sorey/Mikleo

Summary: In which Sorey is kidnapped by fairies, turned into a bird, and is rescued by the power of love, the power of song, and the power of a speeding chariot plowing through walls.

(A variation on The Blue Bird, written for the 2018 Chocomint Fairy Tale Compilation. With illustrations by yunafezeria!)

Link: AO3

This was written for the 2018 Chocomint Fairy Tale Compilation. @chocomint-srmk is a Sorey/Mikleo fan project!

The zine’s purchase period is now over, but you can check out some of the other fic and art from the zine in the links below. You might start seeing more of the Fairy Tale pieces go up now that the exclusivity period has ended!

You can see the full version of the illustration on Yun's Twitter, or on the AO3 link.

Chocomint's Tumblr: https://chocomint-srmk.tumblr.com/ Chocomint's Twitter: https://twitter.com/chocomint_srmk

Read on Tumblr!

Prince Sorey’s thirteenth birthday was approaching, and he knew that it was going to be the best one ever.

“How do you figure that?” asked Mikleo, who was already thirteen, and considered himself much wiser than Sorey for it.

“You know why!” Sorey said. He very nearly vibrated with excitement. “You’ve heard our families talking. They’re going to formally announce our betrothal!”

Sorey and Mikleo often eavesdropped on their families’ discussions during their play dates. Most of the discussions were on topics uninteresting to a pair of young ears – though they doubted they were truly interesting to adult ears either. But amongst the talk of trade agreements and crop yields, Sorey and Mikleo sometimes overheard bits of juicy gossip. Such as talk of their own upcoming engagement.

It would be a truly beneficial arrangement for all involved. Mikleo was a prince of his own kingdom, and had been playmates with Sorey since the cradle. They shared everything during their long summers together, and were devoted pen pals. A political alliance would surely usher in a new era of peace and prosperity.

To Sorey, the idea of getting to marry Mikleo – for real, not pretend, and in front of everyone – the idea of getting to spend their whole lives together…well, that sounded just wonderful all around.

Mikleo was blushing, and Sorey couldn’t help but throw himself at him to kiss those red cheeks, even as Mikleo squawked at him angrily. Yes, this would be the most wonderful birthday present Sorey could ever ask for.

As the sun rose upon the thirteenth anniversary of Prince Sorey’s birth, the castle found itself in a terrible panic. The prince was gone.

His room, the library, the kitchens, the garden gazebo – in all his favorite spots, he was nowhere to be found. Nurses and housekeepers and guards and cooks and courtiers upended every room in the palace in their frenzied search. The queen was beside herself – all the precautions she had ordered to keep her son safe on his birthday were for naught. The guards posted swore they saw no one enter or leave; neither the prince nor his kidnappers. But alas, the kingdom’s mages gravely informed the queen that their protection upon the room had been disrupted. The wards of iron shavings and salt were disturbed.

Mikleo heard all of this from their normal eavesdropping spot. It was so lonely there, now.

The royal families ordered a search for the kidnapped prince that spanned both kingdoms. Alas, instead of being brought together by the announcement of a happy engagement, the two kingdoms became rent by suspicion – the kidnappers were treasonous nobles who were against the kingdoms’ alliance; the kidnappers were revolutionaries from this kingdom or that, out to topple stability and order. Surely the prince was dead by now. It was a waste of money to continue this fruitless search.

The search continued for a year, and then two. And then more. Mikleo stopped being able to count the march of days. They all seemed very much the same now, without Sorey. Somewhere along the way, Mikleo took to isolation. He rarely left his tower room, with its single window that looked out onto the sprawling forests that he and Sorey had once explored and read and picnicked in. Sometimes it was unbearable for him to look at it; at other times, he seemed to stare out into it for days, lost in the wooded depths of his own memory.

Five years came and went.

Mikleo’s mother begged him to leave his room. Sorey’s queen mother was a picture of royal dignity, she said – ruling her kingdom even though her heart was surely filled with the same keen despair that ate at Mikleo’s own. Surely Mikleo could emulate such an example. He would be eighteen, soon, and the crown would be placed upon his brow, and the kingdom on his shoulders. Mikleo could not help but laugh at the very idea of it. A kingdom, wide and vast, ruled by someone who could not leave his room without being struck with nostalgic vertigo so keen it made him ill. He would decline the crown just as his uncle had, and he too would live out his years as a scholarly hermit.

One day, just a scant few weeks before his birthday, Mikleo’s hermitage was interrupted by a visitor on his windowsill: a songbird with splendidly blue feathers.

At first, Mikleo paid it no mind. Birds came and went from his windowsill often – it was rather expected when one lived in a tower. This little creature, though, was an insistent guest. It pecked at the glass – tap-tap, tap, tap-tap-tap – until Mikleo could no longer ignore its presence. It hopped from foot to foot and sang its heart out when Mikleo approached to look at it. Hesitantly, but driven by the insatiable curiosity that defined him in his happier days, Mikleo opened the window and was greeted by a flurry of wings and birdsong. His guest only settled down when Mikleo offered his crooked finger as a perch. Satisfied, the bird fluffed out its chest, and began to sing for him once more.

The bird returned the next morning, greeting him with eager chatter as the sun first glittered through the glass, and stayed with him all day; leaving only when night fell.

“I haven’t had guests in a while,” Mikleo admitted to the creature. “You’ll have to excuse the state of the place.”

The bird simply chirped and picked up an edge of the page Mikleo was reading in his book, then determinedly and laboriously sidestepped with the page held in its beak until it was properly turned. Mikleo smiled – this, too, had not occurred in some time – and stroked the messy little fluff of feathers atop the bird’s head.

On the third day, his guest began to come bearing gifts. They were simple little trinkets: small and lovely stones, polished to perfect shining smoothness by the nearby river (Mikleo remembered the days spent with Sorey wading in its depths, trying to challenge each other to find the most unique and excellent specimens). Herbs from the forest with delicate little blossoms (Mikleo remembered reading to Sorey from his encyclopedia of herbal medicine, trying to find the right plants to soothe the stomachaches they’d gotten by eating the wrong plants). And, as always, the gift of a beautiful song to while away the lonely hours (Mikleo remembered their duets – Sorey on violin, himself on flute, and their music tutor desperately trying to keep them focused).

After a week of gifts and companionship and song, Mikleo opened the window to greet his blue bird – only to freeze at the sight of the gift in its beak. The bird fluttered in, perched on Mikleo’s finger, and dropped the gift determinedly in Mikleo’s lap.

It was an earring. A feathered earring. Just like the ones he used to wear, just like – Mikleo took the earring between two trembling fingers, and examined it closer. No, no. It wasn’t just “just like” them. It was one of Sorey’s earrings. Mikleo felt tears sting his eyes.

“Little blue bird,” Mikleo whispered. “Where on earth did you find this?”

The bird remained uncharacteristically silent, and stared into Mikleo’s eyes – as if it wanted to speak to Mikleo just as badly as Mikleo wanted to hear its tale. Mikleo took a deep breath, and composed himself.

“Thank you,” he finally said. “I finally have something to remember him by. You have my eternal gratitude, my sweet little friend.”

Mikleo had nothing to give the bird in return, save for cool water and leftovers from his lunch. He supposed a kiss would have to do, for now. Mikleo bent down, and pressed his lips to the little fluff of feathers atop the blue bird’s head.

“Mikleo! Mikleo!”

Mikleo jumped out of his skin, and toppled backward in his chair; sending the bird fluttering wildly through the room, calling out Mikleo’s name over and over. Mikleo would have chalked that last bit up to hitting his head on the stone floor, if he was in a better state of mind. As it was, with Sorey’s earring in his hand and Sorey’s voice coming from a bird , Mikleo considered his state of mind rather questionable.

The bird finally settled down, and landed on Mikleo’s body. It took a few moments to catch its breath, and then hopped up to better look Mikleo in the eye.

“Mikleo,” the bird said again, for the dozenth time – though with no less love and jubilation as the first. “It’s me. I’m back.”

It was unmistakably Sorey’s voice. Surely Mikleo had finally lost his mind. But the gifts of the stones, and the herbs, and the song, and the earrings…Mikleo bade the bird to explain himself.

“What,” Mikleo said.

– Though it was not in such eloquent terms. The bird tittered a sweet little laugh; a laugh that Mikleo thought he would never be able to hear again.

“Sorry. I’ve been gone for years, haven’t I...? But you look even prettier than I left you.”

Sorey waited for Mikleo to pick himself off the floor and sit back in his chair before he fluttered to Mikleo’s desk to begin his tale.

“My mom was always…hesitant when I asked her about my father. Said she’d tell me when the time was right. When my thirteenth birthday approached, she was in and out of meetings constantly with the royal guard, with the royal magicians. On the night of my birthday, she locked me in my room and told me to not open the doors or windows for anyone, no matter who they said they were, until morning.

“That night…I heard so many people calling to me. My mother, my grandfather, and you too, Mikleo. I came so close to opening the door, but I remembered what my mother said, and just clutched my pillow over my head and prayed for dawn to come.

“But then, an hour before dawn, a little black cat tumbled down my chimney. She landed in the salt and iron shavings that the mages had piled there in the fireplace. She looked like she was in so much pain, like they were embers burning her alive. I couldn’t help but pick her up, dust it all off of her, and then…”

Sorey paused in his story, and then gave Mikleo a sheepish look.

“Well, as you can probably guess, it was a trap,” Sorey said. “She was a fairy, and she spirited me away then and there to the fairy realm.”

They preyed on Sorey’s kind heart. Mikleo silently fumed, but stroked at his little fluffy breast with a single finger, bidding him to continue.

“It was there I finally met my father. He’s the fairy king, and he said that – he said that, with my thirteenth birthday at hand, they could take me back. Said that the fairy palace was my new home, and its residents my subjects. Said that I would never be allowed to see the human realm again. I begged and pleaded to be taken back to my real home, to my mom and to you, but they wouldn’t hear a single word of it.

“They tried to entice me into staying for days, with exotic food and books, but I didn’t touch any of it. Finally, the fairy king said that I be made to ‘think things over from a new angle’. And then, that fairy magician I saved from the fireplace cursed me into this form. They said they’d only lift the curse when I agree to become the crown prince, and so…”

Sorey extended his wings as demonstration.

“…you can see how well that worked out for them, and me,” Sorey said ruefully. “I couldn’t speak, and they locked me into a golden birdcage in this strange room – I think it shares ventilation with the surrounding rooms, I could hear everything from them echoing in. I heard the king speaking – he’s afraid of an alliance between our kingdoms, Mikleo. He’s afraid of our engagement.

“I stayed in that birdcage for years, Mikleo, singing day and night about how much I missed you. I got my chance for escape one day, when the attendants left a window open before they went to open my cage. I flew out and away, and managed to find my way here…back to you.”

Mikleo extended a crooked finger for him, and Sorey hopped up onto it. Mikleo brought him in to nestle against his neck; Sorey’s silky feathers tickling his skin. Sorey had been through so much. Kidnapped, locked away…and then there was the matter of this curse.

“Your curse,” Mikleo said. “How do we break it?”

Sorey made a thoughtful noise.

“I couldn’t speak before you kissed me,” he said. “Maybe…another one will break it completely?”

Mikleo felt his cheeks burn, but obliged. Sorey’s feathered breast puffed out, and he shivered in glee. He remained, however, a little blue bird.

“Almost broken. I can feel it,” Sorey declared. “Maybe another?”

Mikleo pouted at him, and Sorey tittered that wonderful laugh once more.

“Sorry, sorry. I really don’t know how to break the spell, so it was worth a try. I can at least talk to you properly now.”

Sorey looked around the room; at the piles of books and papers, at the door with dust on its handle. He beaked at Mikleo’s ear lightly.

“You were always the one teasing me for never cleaning my room,” Sorey said. “What’s changed?”

Everything and nothing at all , Mikleo wanted to say. He settled on kissing the fluff atop Sorey’s head again, making Sorey fluff up and titter once more at the attention.

“I missed you, Sorey,” Mikleo murmured. “So much.”

Sorey nuzzled at Mikleo’s finger as it came up to pet him.

“Me too,” Sorey sighed. “I…I came here first. I know I should’ve gone to my mother, and the court mages, but would they have really recognized me? I thought I might be able to convince you first. And I needed to see you again so badly. I sang for you all those years. You’ve gotten so beautiful, Mikleo.”

“And you’ve gotten a little bit easier to handle, for now,” Mikleo replied, trying to will away the redness in his cheeks. “I’ll speak to our court mages and my uncle about the curse. Surely there’s something we can try. For now, I’ll call for an attendant to set something up for you in my room – not a cage, but a perch with--”

“I can’t stay here,” Sorey said mournfully. “I know that the fairy court is trying to hunt me down. If I stay with you tonight, they’re sure to find us both. I’ve been staying in the woods – the woodland spirits bear resentment against the high court, and have been sheltering me…something about the wrong color goose feathers in a pillow, a thousand years ago and some change. They hold grudges over the strangest things, Mikleo.”

“No stranger than human grudges, I’m sure,” Mikleo said. “But please. Stay safe tonight.”

Sorey accepted another kiss atop his head, and gave one to Mikleo’s nose with his beak. Mikleo’s kiss had broken Sorey’s curse of silence. Mikleo wondered what curse of his that Sorey’s kiss had broken.

He opened the door to his room for the first time in months, and walked down the tower stairs to seek out his uncle.

Love was a powerful magic indeed, and unfortunately drew the attention of the wrong individual. Symonne was the very same court magician that Sorey had saved from the iron and salt, and the very same court magician that had cursed him. She was an ancient and powerful fairy, and though the concept of gratitude was not unknown to her, her fanatic loyalty to the fairy king was stronger than any sense of debt. Or pity.

The moment Mikleo’s lips broke a layer of her curse, Symonne had pinpointed Sorey’s location, and spied on their conversation. It would not do for her to charge into the territory of the woodland spirits – she knew her king would be sorely cross with her if she provoked them into an uprising. But that presented an even more delicious opportunity: to make an example of that traitorous prince, so unworthy of the fairy throne, in front of the wretched human for whom he had betrayed her king’s patience and affections.

Symonne laid another curse upon the sill of Mikleo’s tower window.

Mikleo awoke the next morning filled with determination, his thoughts racing with the knowledge he had gleaned from the books his uncle had loaned to him. He had barely gotten any sleep; staying up late into the night making notes. But soon, it would be time for Sorey to make his daily appearance. Mikleo walked over to the window, and opened it up to wait.

The sun glinted off Sorey’s feathers as he approached. Mikleo couldn’t help but smile.

“Sorey--”

Sorey landed on the windowsill, and opened his beak to sing.

A crack of magic split the air, blinding Mikleo with light. Sorey’s voice cut off with an awful sound, and the air filled with the smell of burning feathers. Mikleo shouted for Sorey in panic, still light-blind.

“Sorey! Sorey! ”

Vision returned to him as he blinked, and Mikleo saw that his windowsill was now empty. Gripped with dread, he peered over the side, and was greeted with the sight of a small, unmoving blue blur on the ground far below.

“ Sorey! ”

Mikleo raced down the tower stairs, tripping and stumbling, until he burst out into the garden. There was nothing underneath the window, now – nothing at all but a few scattered blue feathers and streaks of red on the grass. The work of an enterprising palace cat, or marauding falcon, perhaps. Mikleo frantically raced around the gardens, tearing apart the bushes and flower beds for any sign of Sorey.

He had lost Sorey once, and just as he had begun to hope once more, he had lost Sorey again. Mikleo fell to his knees and let tears consume him.

It was neither cat nor falcon that had stolen Sorey away – instead, it was a wandering enchanter, drawn to the scene by the thick scent of dark magic. Zaveid was a clever man; clever enough to know that this bird was not what he seemed, and clever enough to know that he’d gotten in way over his head by snatching him up. He hurtled himself back over the palace wall, and hid himself in the brush. Oh, how curiosity had gotten the better of him once again!

He whispered an enchantment into his cupped palm, and placed the bird’s trembling, bleeding body between his hands to allow the healing magic to do its work. The bird’s trembling eased, and it heaved a sigh of relief from its tiny breast.

“All better, birdie?” Zaveid quipped. “Listen, I dunno what you did to get on the bad side of someone wielding magic like that, but--”

“Run,” Sorey rasped out. “We have to run. Into the woods. Where she can’t follow--”

“Too late,” hissed Symmone.

Symonne was quite incensed at being robbed of the opportunity to plunge a dagger into Sorey’s breast in front of Mikleo, but would settle for finishing the job here. Zaveid’s eyes went huge at the glint of the dagger in her hand, and he fumbled in his coat pocket until his fingers closed around a golden, fairy-winged amulet.

In a flash of light, the three of them were teleported straight to the fairy court. Fairy King Heldalf’s eyes went wide at the scene in front of him.

“Who are you?” he demanded of Zaveid. “And what are you doing with my son?”

Zaveid’s eyebrows raised, and he lifted Sorey to eye level to give him a Look.

“Shoulda known you were trouble,” he grumbled.

“Sorry…” Sorey sheepishly said back.

Still, Zaveid was not one to back down from a challenge. He cleared his throat, and bowed deeply, flourishing his free, non-bird-holding arm wide.

“Your most great and powerful majesty,” Zaveid greeted. “Please forgive my intrusion. I am Zaveid, a wandering enchanter. I was trying to rescue your son from death at the hands of this witch.”

Symonne was shaking with fury. Heldalf stared at her sternly, and bade Zaveid to continue.

“It is quite an accusation, to say that the throne’s greatest magician is guilty of treason.”

Zaveid sighed dramatically.

“I know, your great awesomeness, I know. But just take a whiff of your boy – that blood on him is reeking of your magician’s dark magic. Honestly, just ask him yourself. I’m sure he’ll tell you the whole story.”

Sorey had refused to say a word to his father since he was thirteen, which was incidentally the impetus behind Symonne’s curse of silence. He fluttered onto Zaveid’s shoulder to look straight into his father’s eyes.

“I ran away to seek out a magician to break my curse,” Sorey said. “Symonne followed my tracks, and laid a trap for me. When I landed on a tree to rest after a long flight, her dark magic tore me to pieces and flung me to the earth below. Zaveid saved me, and healed me, and brought us all to the court before she could finish her work.”

“ Liar! ” screamed Symonne. “A traitor and a liar! You ran to the arms of that despicable human that you constantly yowl for in your cage, like a cat in heat--”

“Can’t help but point out that she didn’t deny the whole attempted murder thing, your liegefultude,” Zaveid noted. “And if you’re wondering about how I got us all here, I’ll be happy to spin that tale for you over dinner. You see, I used a magical charm gifted to me as a token by a beautiful fairy maiden, for whom I still hold a burning flame--”

A sharp ahem! interrupted Zaveid’s story. One of the other court magicians in attendance, Lailah, was bright red, and had her cheeks puffed out irritably as she very determinedly refused to look at Zaveid.

King Heldalf rose to his feet, and strode over to stand looming and tall over Zaveid – he passed Symonne as he went, refusing to acknowledge her as she fell to her knees and grasped at the hem of his cloak, sobbing for forgiveness.

“You have our thanks, Zaveid the enchanter,” the king said. “Return the prince, and you may request any reward your heart desires for saving his life.”

Now, this gave Zaveid pause. Sorey looked at him pleadingly with those little birdie eyes, as if begging him to help. Clearly, this prince didn’t really want to be returned, any more than he wanted to remain a bird. Zaveid was nowhere near strong enough to break the curse on him, but…Lailah’s gaze upon him inspired him to be generous. Oh, the things he did for love.

“Not that I mean to intrude on an, uh…family matter,” Zaveid said. “But keepin’ your son here as a bird and – what did I hear your witch say? Locking him in a cage? – none of that is going to help mend whatever bridges are broken between you. After that witch nearly killed him, I think it’s the least you can do to let him stretch his legs again. His people legs.”

The king considered Zaveid’s statement for a long moment, then turned to Sorey.

“Prince Sorey,” he began. “I will return you to your original form for three days, so you are in a better state to consider your duty to the fairy kingdom. If you still refuse after the sun rises on the third day, you will remain a bird forever.”

Without waiting for Sorey’s response, King Heldalf waved his arm, and Zaveid felt the weight on his shoulder grow heavy. Like, real heavy. Heavy like there was a grown-ass teenager sitting on it instead of a little blue bird. Right before Zaveid collapsed to the ground, he saw that he was correct in that assessment. Sorey was quite unlike his bird self – tall, with a broad chest and shoulders and chocolate-brown hair. He looked down at his now-human hands, and his green eyes gleamed with newfound hope. Damn, Zaveid thought. Whoever that human was that Sorey was stealing off to go meet was one lucky dog.

“Escort the prince to his chambers,” said the king to the gathered fairy attendants. “And prepare a room and meal for our guest. We will not be derelict in hospitality.”

A fleet of attendants and guards surrounded Sorey, and he went along with them, though reluctantly. Two brightly-colored fairy attendants approached Zaveid, and he winked at both of them, sending them fluttering and tittering ahead of him. He glanced over his shoulder, and blew a kiss to where Lailah stood – Lailah mimed catching it, and then set her hand on fire. Zaveid clutched at his heart and sighed dreamily. To have his heart crushed by such a beauty was an exquisite kind of agony.

With Sorey and Zaveid both escorted from the throne room, Lailah respectfully curtsied to the king as he approached. Symonne continued to weep and grovel on the ground, inconsolable.

“Your majesty,” Lailah began. “Surely you know that the prince will not agree to those terms.”

The king sank back into his throne, and drummed his fingers on the arm.

“Pray tell, Lailah, what would you consider my alternative options?” he asked. “Allow him to live out a short human life, dying just as quickly as the beasts of the forest? Allow him to return to his mother, allow him to marry that human prince, allow their kingdoms to ally and rise up to destroy us?”

Lailah sighed, and looked away. “But surely you do not truly mean to curse the prince forever…”

“No,” Heldalf admitted. “Simply until that human he is fixated on dies. It will be quick, if he stays here – human lifetimes pass in the blink of an eye.”

First, the king imprisoned his own son in a golden cage for years, and now he was planning to do it once more if Sorey did not comply and promise to never again be with the one his heart truly loved. All out of a wild paranoia, and greed for his son’s undivided attention. Lailah could no longer tolerate her king’s behavior. Something had to be done, and there was one surefire way to do it:

The power of love.

That night, Lailah looked herself over in the mirror critically – did she look the part of a beatific fairy godmother? Oh heavens, it had been an age since she’d last played the role. There was no time to find pumpkins or practice a musical number. She could only hope Sorey’s beloved would rise to the occasion.

For his part, Mikleo was hardly in a state to rise to anything. The awful sound of Sorey’s dying scream echoed in his brain, and the smell of his scorched feathers refused to leave his senses. It was surely the work of that loathsome fae court: unable to force Sorey’s cooperation, they had killed him for the offense. They had taken Sorey from him twice, now. Grief and fury battled each other in his mind, seeing who would triumph and be allowed to consume Mikleo whole.

Mikleo had not moved from the chair he had collapsed into after dragging himself back up to his tower from the gardens. He had not drawn the curtains, he had not lit a candle – and with the fall of night, the room was painted with twilight.

A little spot of light flickered to life, throwing golden color on Mikleo’s cheek. Mikleo slowly turned to look. A candle on his desk was alight, and its dancing flame reflected in Mikleo’s eyes. It seemed to twirl around itself, looking down as if it was a lady lifting up her skirts to spot the best place to put her feet on a staircase. The little flame then hopped off the candle, then leapt off the edge of the desk –

– and became a tall woman in a red-and-white lace gown. Fairy wings extended from her back.

Had they come to kill him as well? Perhaps he should just allow it. He would make an even poorer king now, with a heart filled with sorrow and hatred.

“Prince Mikleo, beloved of Prince Sorey,” the woman began. She curtsied deeply. “I am Lailah, a magician. Please, I come to beg your aid, on behalf of my people.”

Mikleo stared at her in silence, his face a cold, expressionless mask.

“To think you have the right to speak his name – that is very audacious of you,” Mikleo said. He rose from his chair. “I wonder, was my fireplace not to your liking as an entryway, as Sorey’s was?”

Lailah curtsied deeper, and shook her head.

“Prince Mikleo, though you may not believe my words, I swear that it was not I who kidnapped Prince Sorey those five years ago, nor was it I who cursed him, nor was it I who wounded him this morning,” Lailah said. “He is alive and well, and was returned to our palace. The king has returned him to human form for three days, to force him to embrace his role as the fairy prince. If he refuses, he will remain a bird forevermore.”

Mikleo was speechless, his mind working to process what he had been told. The idea of Sorey still being alive – it was too good to be true. What was more, this woman was a fairy. How could he trust a single word she spoke?

“You do not believe me,” Lailah observed. She gestured with one arm to the top drawer of Mikleo’s desk. “In your desk is an iron letter-opener. Place it against my skin and command me to speak the truth through my agony. I swear to you that I shall not contradict myself.”

Lailah paused, then smiled.

“Or you could simply plunge the letter-opener into my chest, and be done with it,” she granted. Mikleo’s eyes went wide. “But your heart is pure and kind, just like Sorey’s. I can tell the thought of it did not once cross your mind.”

It had not. Mikleo sank back into his chair, more than a little overwhelmed.

“What would you have me do to save him?” Mikleo asked.

Lailah clapped delightedly. “Oh, splendid! You are already in a heroic state of mind,” she said. “That will make this so much more straightforward. Hoot have thought this would have been so easy?”

Lailah stared at him expectantly for a very, very long moment. Mikleo felt deeply uncomfortable.

“… hoot have thought? Hoot ?” Lailah prompted him again. “You see, Prince Sorey was a bird for many years, and owls say hoot-- ”

“Yes,” Mikleo interrupted before this got even more unbearable to listen to. “Yes, I understand.”

“Hmm.” Lailah paused, then snorted an undignified laugh into her voluminous sleeve. “—SNNNNRT! HOOT!”

“Lady Lailah,” Mikleo said flatly. “You were speaking of heroics?”

Lailah managed to gather herself, with effort. “Oh. Yes.”

With a wave of her arm, she summoned three ivory eggs; each the size of a goose’s.

“Please forgive me, for I am unable to take you directly to the palace,” she said mournfully. “My magic was…borrowed to transport Prince Sorey and several others from the dangerous situation he found himself in, and it will take time for it to regenerate. And time is a thing that we do not have. However, I can give you three gifts to lead you on your quest.”

One of the eggs began to glow, and when its light faded, a small, odd-looking little creature was in its place.

“Pleased to meetcha! The name’s Atakk, a normin,” said the creature. He extended a paw. “Put ‘er there!”

“Mikleo, this is Atakk. He will guide you,” Lailah explained, and tried to move on to the next egg. “As for the topic of transport--”

“Is that it!?” Atakk squawked despairingly. “Lady Lailah, you’re embarrassing me! I’m standing in front of such a beautiful creature, so you gotta talk me up a little bit to him--”

“Atakk will guide you marginally well,” Lailah expanded on her statement. “Now, as for the topic of transport…”

The second egg glowed and expanded into a beautiful grand chariot, drawn by six more normins who grumbled and griped and adjusted their harnesses. Atakk beckoned for him to give him his hand.

“Please, allow me to lead you to your seat, mon cher ,” Atakk said suavely. “I will serenade you on our journey to make your heart feel light. Do you prefer the pan-flute or the dulcimer?”

“The trip will not be long, with the normins leading the chariot,” Lailah promised. With that, she handed the final egg to Mikleo. “This egg will guarantee your escape from the palace, when you have rescued Sorey. Please, do not allow it to hatch before then, lest you be trapped in our realm forever.”

Mikleo took the egg, then looked Lailah up and down.

“…why are you helping us?” Mikleo asked. “Sorey and I.”

Lailah sighed and folded her hands.

“Our king is…a lonely man. He once fell in love with a human princess, and had a child with her – however, she would not abandon her kingdom to live with our king in our realm. She fled with the child, and our king has never been in his right mind since. He has become wholly convinced that the human kingdoms will rise up against us any day now, and kidnapped Sorey laboring under that paranoia – he thinks your marriage to Sorey, your kingdoms’ alliance, would sound the death knell for our own realm. He seeks to force Sorey to love him as his father through cruel means…he does not appear to properly understand that Sorey will only resent him more and more. I cannot bear to stand by and watch this continue.”

Mikleo nodded. He and Sorey had overheard strange snippets of discussion, when they were children eavesdropping on meetings, that had never quite made sense until now…Mikleo walked to his dressing-cabinets, and stripped down to dress himself in an outfit more suited to a diplomatic engagement. Lailah gasped and bent to cover Atakk’s eyes.

“I will not allow it to continue,” Mikleo said. To finish, he picked up his circlet – the symbol of his birthright – from its locked velvet case and slid it on. “I will speak to him as the king-to-be of my nation, and demand Sorey’s return.”

“I pray for your success,” Lailah said solemnly. “You are our last hope.��

Lailah spoke true – the normin chariot sped across the skies and over the forests and mountains, bringing them far from Mikleo’s kingdom. It would take days, weeks to make the trip on foot…Mikleo’s heart ached at the thought of Sorey making this trip as a bird, just for a chance to see Mikleo again.

The chariot arrived at the fairy palace at dawn – Mikleo had so little time left to save Sorey, and that worry clouded his mind to the point that he spared little wonder at the sight of the glittering jeweled spires, the giant blossoms, the lakes and rivers made of…chocolate syrup? Perhaps he spared a bit of wonder at that. He expected the normins to drop him off at the palace entrance, but they charged on full-tilt past the palace gates, whooping and cheering as they sent guards flying left and right. They raced through the halls, knocking into statues and pottery and other priceless pieces of fine art.

“Slow down, you philistines!” wailed Atakk. “That was a Terca Lumereis original!”

“Emphasis on ‘was’!” yelled back one of the normin.

Atakk’s tears soaked Mikleo’s shirt as he buried his face in his chest to weep.

Finally, the wild rush came to a sudden stop. They had arrived in the throne room, and, judging from the stares of the gathered court members, they were quite unexpected. Atakk stumbled to his feet, and produced a horn from thin air – he blew it loud, even through his tears, to announce their arrival. Mikleo squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and stepped out of the chariot with all the grace and presence his mother and tutors had tried to instill in him over the years. He willed his hands and voice to not shake.

“I am Mikleo, of House Rulay,” he said, loud and clear. “I am the king-to-be of the kingdom of Camlann. I seek the hand of the fairy crown prince in marriage.”

The court gasped and tittered, and looked to the throne for their king’s reaction. Mikleo saw that he was a large, imposing man; with a voluminous fur cloak whose high collar made him resemble a lion. The king’s eyes narrowed.

“How did a human enter our realm undetected?” Heldalf wondered aloud.

“That seems like a personal failin’ of your guards,” said one of the chariot normin. “We didn’t even try to be sneaky.”

Atakk wailed hysterically in the chariot, cuddling a large piece of shattered pottery. Heldalf rose an eyebrow at the normins, and then turned to Lailah; who stood beside the throne with a carefully blank expression.

“It seems your magic has brought yet more visitors ,” Heldalf said. “Do tell me that another of my magicians has not betrayed me.”

Lailah curtsied deeply in apology. “My king, I have placed my magic in many artifacts over the centuries, as gifts to those who have served us. Surely some of them have simply fallen into the wrong hands.”

“King of the Fairies, do you mean to ignore your esteemed guest?” Mikleo asked. He would not allow Lailah to be punished for helping him. “After all the questing I went through to obtain this magical chariot, you could stand to offer me a room, and entertain my request for your son’s hand. Surely as the rulers of two prosperous kingdoms, we could come to a mutually-beneficial arrangement.”

Mikleo knew that he had hit upon a sticking point – even fairies were bound by the rules of hospitality. The king stood, and gestured with his hand to some of his fairy attendants.

“We welcome you as our esteemed guest,” he said. “But know this: humans cannot survive long in our realm. You will be safe if you do not leave the room we prepare for you. Should you venture from it, you will be transformed into a beast. And I have my doubts that your people will accept a beast as their king.”

“A beastly nature will not affect my devotion to my people, nor my devotion to your son,” Mikleo swore. “Please, take me to him so I may make an offer of marriage in person.”

“The prince is sleeping in his chambers, resting due to his injuries,” Heldalf said. “He will awaken…in a few days, perhaps. Until then, you may wait in your guest chambers for him. Practice your poetry.”

A few days. Mikleo bristled in fury. In a few days, Sorey would be a bird again. He could not risk calling the king’s bluff without endangering Lailah. He could not rush to Sorey’s chambers and break the doors down – he could already feel the magic of the fairy realm clouding his brain and making his limbs heavy and odd. Fairy attendants and guards surrounded him, and rounded up the normins – he was on his own as they escorted him to his guest chambers. The weight of the final egg in his pocket was small comfort as he was locked into his guest room.

Mikleo did not spend long bemoaning his fate, for as he looked around the room for something, anything to help him rescue Sorey, he came upon an ornately-designed vent shaft. It was securely bolted shut, but his mind was not on the prospect of escape. Seeing the vent caused him to recall a piece of information that Sorey had mentioned on his windowsill visit: that Sorey’s chambers were connected via these shafts to the surrounding rooms, and that he could hear anything that occurred within them.

Sorey had sung for him, day and night, for five years. Mikleo could surely manage the same for two nights.

Mikleo cleared his throat, and began to hum; a halting, shy tune. Slowly, he grew more confident, more desperate – he allowed himself to write embarrassing lyrics that he would have scoffed at only a few short days ago. He called for Sorey, told him of how he’d longed for him, told him of the sorrow that threatened to drown him when he was convinced of Sorey’s death. He sang of the future he hoped for: not only of grand adventures and travel, but also of days by his side, of suffering through boring court meetings on the promise of a kiss after their conclusion, of evenings taking dinner together over their favorite books, of nights tangled up together in their shared bed.

He sang and sang until his throat was raw, and sang some more – the sun set and rose again, and Sorey had still not called back to him, had still not broken down the door. Mikleo took a moment to catch his breath, and wipe away the frustrated tears that streaked his cheeks. He had but one day more, and then Sorey would be a bird forever – if it came to it, perhaps he’d simply walk the fairy palace halls until he became a beast as well, to live by his side. A pair of lovebirds, matched in the same cage, singing day and night.

“Hey. Hey! Prince!”

Mikleo frowned and looked around for the source of the familiar voice.

“Over here!”

Atakk was peeping through the slot in the door that attendants used to slide Mikleo meals – which he had not touched, out of concern for what was in them.

“You’ve been usin’ the vent system to try and talk to Sorey, haven’t you?” Atakk asked. “Any luck?”

“No,” Mikleo said hoarsely, rubbing his throat. He needed to save his voice for another day of work. “No response.”

Atakk hummed thoughtfully, and tapped his chin.

“I’ve been in that room before – those vents echo the sounds loud and clear. He should’ve heard you even if he was sleeping, and woken up…somethin’ fishy is going on. I’m gonna snoop around and get some info for you. Lady Lailah assigned me as your guide, and I ain’t done guiding yet.”

“Thank you,” Mikleo managed to say before his throat throbbed in pain.

Atakk made a kissy face. “Anything for a princely beauty like yourself! It’s so romantic of me, sacrificing my own happiness to bring you closer to another man…!”

Atakk bounced away excitedly, talking to himself of how he’d have to write these verses down before he forgot them. Mikleo shook his head, and stumbled back to the vents on sleepless legs to resume his vigil.

It wasn’t until the sun had nearly set again that Atakk returned – however, this time he was not alone. Three fairy attendants opened the door, and entered Mikleo’s chambers in a line. Atakk gestured to them with a flourish.

“Ta-da!” he said. “These are Prince Sorey’s attendants!”

“…and?” Mikleo said, not able to manage more than one-word sentences.

“And they got the scoop on why Sorey isn’t hearing your little lovelorn sonata!” Atakk said. “…or so they told me.”

The eldest attendant stepped forward.

“We were instructed by the king and the royal doctor to drug the prince’s food and drink to keep him in a deep sleep,” she stated. “His injuries from Lady Symonne were grave, and Zaveid’s magics only served to stabilize him temporarily.”

The two younger attendants giggled at the mention of this “Zaveid”, and the eldest turned to glare at them. They shushed, but continued to whisper in each other’s ears. The eldest shook her head, and continued.

“I do not see why I should go against such esteemed directions to allow the prince to hear your constant caterwauling,” the eldest said. “It will only upset him.”

“The spell,” Mikleo rasped out. “He’ll be a bird. When the sun rises, forever.”

“The king does not mean to truly curse the prince forever,” stated the eldest. “Simply until you and his other human attachments are nothing but dust and distant memory. He will live a long and blissful life here, free from disease and age. You mean to steal him away from us and curse him to a short, desperate, mortal existence.”

Mikleo bowed his head, and put a hand to his aching throat. It seemed so selfish. Perhaps it would truly be best for Sorey that he left, that he allowed himself to fade into memory. But it was Atakk that broke the awful silence.

“That’s all well and good for you to make that decision for the prince then, eh?” he challenged. “Tell me again, ‘cause I forget; have you ever asked Sorey’s opinion on all of this? Seems like it’d be important.”

The eldest attendant glowered at Atakk. Atakk mimed a thinking pose.

“Let me think. Seems like I remember something…oh, right, I remember that terrified little thirteen-year-old that we stole from his family, and then we turned him into a bird and locked him in a cage for five years when he kept begging to go home. Yes, you’re sooooo concerned for his welfare, I can tell.”

Atakk slapped Mikleo on the back, and puffed out his chest.

“But do you know who here is concerned for Sorey? This fella right here. He’ll go on singing and singing until he turns into a bird himself, if he thought there was the slightest chance Sorey would wake up and hear him.”

“I heard his song while tending to the prince,” said one of the younger attendants, fighting back tears. “His feelings for the prince are true.”

“I could barely finish my dusting without weeping from the beauty of it,” said the other young attendant, who was fully wailing. “Madam, we know you heard it as well!”

The eldest attendant’s eyes softened, and her mouth drew into a thin line.

“…the prince dreams of you,” she said quietly. “He speaks your name. I was his mother’s midwife, you know. He was a kind, sweet boy to us over the years, even as we served as his jailers. It pains me to be the cause of yet more grief.”

She turned to leave, gesturing for her bawling younger attendants to join her.

“The prince’s sleeping draught will wear off at midnight,” she stated. “And I might dally in refreshing it. See to it that your song is true.”

As they left, Mikleo managed to smile at Atakk as his tears flowed anew. “Thank you.”

Atakk strutted over and picked up Mikleo’s hand to press a loud, smacking kiss to the knuckles. “It’s all in a day’s work for a tragic romantic hero, mon cher . Now rest up those pipes for a few hours so you can really knock Sorey’s socks off.”

Mikleo did as suggested – his throat was so sore and weak that he could barely swallow the water that Atakk brought to him (with the promise that it was not enchanted). Even knowing that there was no chance for Sorey to hear him, Mikleo was possessed of a nervous compulsion to take a seat back by the vents and continue to hum aimlessly – if Sorey could not hear him properly, Mikleo could still provide some comfort in his dreams.

The clocks chimed midnight, and Mikleo opened his mouth to sing once more. He barely managed to get to the part about kisses after court before he heard Sorey screaming and pounding on every door in the hall outside.

“Mikleo! Mikleo! ”

Mikleo raced to the locked door and began to pound on it himself, and to scream Sorey’s name through his raw, battered throat.

“I’m right here, Sorey! Right here!”

The doors were flung open.

Logically, Mikleo knew that Sorey would not look like his thirteen-year-old self all these years later. But Mikleo did not expect Sorey to be this stunning. Tall, with a sharp jawline and broad shoulders. Strong arms that wrapped around Mikleo so tightly, and brought him close against his chest to feel the beating of his racing heart. Those same green eyes that Mikleo remembered, clear as day.

“Mikleo…” Sorey sobbed over and over, rocking in place with Mikleo. Belatedly, Mikleo realized that they’d collapsed to the floor at some point.

“Sorey,” Mikleo whispered into his ear. “I’ve come to ask for your hand in marriage. Do you accept?”

Sorey kissed him then and there. Mikleo let his eyes fall shut and kissed back, winding his fingers into Sorey’s hair.

“…well, I think that settles that, don’t you, your majesticness?”

Sorey’s arms tightened around him at the sound of that voice, and he broke off their kiss to glare at the approach of his father. A strangely-dressed man with dark skin and white tattoos wolf-whistled at them.

“Hey there. I’m Zaveid, your neighbor,” said the man, gesturing to the guest room next to Mikleo’s. “You kept me up all night with your singing, yanno.”

Mikleo spied Lailah sneaking out of Zaveid’s guest room. He elected to say nothing. Heldalf gazed at Sorey with deep sorrow in his eyes, and heaved a heavy sigh.

“…I suppose it does,” he said with an air of finality. “Sorey. I tried to force your mother to stay here with me, and I failed to learn from her flight, and her distance. Please live your life as you wish.”

The king turned, and made to leave. Sorey and Mikleo’s eyes met. Mikleo took Sorey’s hand, and gave it a comforting squeeze. Whatever his decision, Mikleo would stand by his side.

“…will you attend our wedding, father?”

Heldalf stiffened at that word, then bowed his head, his shoulders shaking almost imperceptibly. Perhaps it was a word he’d never heard before.

Upon their return home, their wedding preparations proceeded in a whirlwind haste. Tearful reunions took place alongside flower selections and dress-uniform measurements, and Sorey barely had the time to accept the embraces offered between samples of wedding cake – though he always managed to make the time to excuse himself for a kiss or two from Mikleo. (Or for a quick sojourn with Mikleo to a secluded room with a lock.)

The ceremony was attended by those from kingdoms far and near – citizens and nobility, woodland spirits and fairy court members alike. King Heldalf gave his blessings to the union, and gifted them with a splendid spread of wedding gifts: among them, a marvelous stringed instrument that played by itself and sounded like a thousand instruments at once, a pair of magical mirrors that permitted instant communication between two individuals, and an enchanted brooch, similar to Zaveid’s, that allowed instant transport to the fairy realm.

“Speaking of gifts,” Sorey said during the reception, as he kissed at Mikleo’s knuckles. “What was in that third egg that Lailah gave you?”

Mikleo blinked – it was still in his robes from their adventure. He requested an attendant fetch it for them, and made to open it.

It cracked open in a glorious light, and when the light faded, there stood a normin dressed in an exotic flamenco gown. It fluttered its fan in its heavily-made-up face, and spoke in a strangely deep voice.

“Dance with me! Cast off your monarchical chains and dance the dance of revolution!”

Mikleo rose an eyebrow, and looked over where Lailah was engaging in a drinking contest with members of the royal court. The normin heaved a sigh, and gathered up his skirts to stomp off onto the ballroom floor.

Fairy culture was a bit beyond Mikleo, as of the moment. But he was willing to learn – after all, alliances didn’t spring up overnight.

#sormik #soremiku #suremiku #soymilk #sorey/mikleo #tales of zestiria #i guess this is my personal tales of zestiria tag now #a tenderly crafted fanfiction #chocomint-srmk #chocomint fairy tale compilation #chocomint

16 notes · View notes