#man i wish i knew how to play the trumpet

[wedgiestoriescollective]

The Senior: A Night in a Hotel Room

(The last Re-Upload)

Chase and I continued our interesting relationship after the events that took place after the choir concert. But the holidays are always a busy time, even during school. I had projects to complete and so did Chase, our daily routine of me giving Chase’s underwear a pull died down for a bit. I did get him a couple times. One time during a break at our choir practice, I yanked his American Eagle trunks up his butt when we were alone in the church's library. Oh man, that was so hot. His jeans were so tight that day, and he was wearing a maroon sweater.

He looked like the preppy guys I'd always jack off to that I wish I could wedgie, and here I was. wedgieing him. What made it even better was that he liked it, and I knew it.

               Before the holiday break I got to wedgie him one more time. Chase had recently joined the speech team, and I was also on the team. I’d like to believe that he joined the team so that he would have more reasons to spend more time with me, but it probably was one of many reasons. He did a great job in the musical and participating in speech is like participating in judged theatre. So, the cast members and teammates encouraged him to join, so he did. As a member of the team, we were required to work the tournament that our school would host. But Chase was also very good at playing the trumpet so during the day of the tournament he wasn’t available because he earned a spot in the All-Region Band. So, he stopped by near the end of the day and his job for the day was to deliver flowers that we were going to put on the table with the trophies for the awards ceremony. He texted me to help him bring them in. I met him at the loading dock as he was pulling in. Now, the wedgie that I gave him as he was getting out of his front seat was a unique one. He got out and I somehow managed to just grab the waistband without digging for it. His Blue and Red stripped American Eagle boxer briefs went right up his ass. I tugged his leg holes past his dress pants waistband, and as the tug reached its height I said “sup”, and immediately snapped his white waistband to his back.

               “Come on” he said, surprisingly annoyed with his wedgie.

               “What did you expect? You asked me to help” I said.

               “With the flowers?” he asked as he was walking to the trunk of his car while simultaneously picking at his underwear. At this point I'd wedgied him so often that he no longer would go out of sight to adjust himself anymore. He would just pick outright in front of me. I found that hot. It was unexpecting how hot I found that to be.

“Well, sorry I'll hold off on the wedgies, I got those”. I lifted a box of flowers and walked with him into the auditorium. We were alone as we were arranging the flowers, but since the stage was so big and the curtains were down, we had no way of knowing if anyone else was there. So, it wasn't the best time to try to give Chase another wedgie. We continued working quietly getting everything all set up.

               I didn’t see Chase until after the holiday break. We texted each other though, he was very good at keeping the text conversation going. It wasn’t all about wedgies. We discussed books and movies that we were both currently reading or watching. Our families. He was very present to listen to my problems. At the time my high school theatre department were prepping auditions for that years play competition. This was the closet that theatre departments in high school got to competing with one another like sports teams do. The point of the competition was to take a play, any play and cut it down to no longer than 50 minutes. My theatre teacher took this play very seriously, taking a lot of time for us to read the play in class, analyze it and audition for roles. There were 16 people in the class and only 7 roles. There was a specific role in the play that I thought I'd be right for. The role required for the actor to be able to play a young prince who may or may not have had an affair with a prince from another country. The point of the role was that you never knew for sure if the characters were gay or not. I was obsessed with the idea of possibly getting the chance to play this role, I memorized scenes, I actively participated in discussions about the play in class. I made it obvious to my theater teacher that I really wanted the role. Being in the cast for this specific play in the theatre department basically marked you as someone who is a top actor in the school.  I knew I was good, but there were a lot of other guys in the department that were older and talented too. But the other kid that was my age in the theatre class Micah, was in the competition play last year and he had the experience and could very well be cast in this role. It shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did, but Micah was the top of our class, and he participated in theatre because it was something that he could put on his college apps. His family were very devoted Christians which isn’t a problem except for the fact that he would argue that the role I wanted wasn't a homosexual. He would argue this because he knew that if he was cast in the show that it would be in that role and he clearly felt that it was against his religion, so he was trying to find a reason to be able to play it.  I’d say I was straight, but I knew that I wasn’t. But this role spoke to me, especially at that time and if I got it, maybe it was the reason that I needed to give myself permission to accept myself. I really wanted that part.

               The weekend that the cast list was supposed to be posted, my speech team was away at a speech tournament six hours away from home. The prelim rounds went okay on that first day and Chase and I were placed in the same hotel room for the night with twin brothers that were specifically on the debate team. So, that night after the speech kids were done with their rounds, the debate kids were going to remain there till late. The hotel room had two beds and since the twin brother debaters would obviously sleep together in one of them, I was going to sleep with Chase in the other. And not only that, I was going to get to spend a lot of time alone with Chase in a room with a bed

               When Chase and I got back to the hotel room, I went ahead and took a shower. We had a long day of traveling and both Chase and I had been in suits all day. I brought my sweats and tank that I would sleep in the bathroom with me and showered. When I got out of the bathroom with my sleep clothes on there was Chase, standing at the closet in only his boxers. He was hanging up his suit, after taking everything off. Though I've wedgied Chase a lot, I had never seen him without his shirt, and staring at him from behind I immediately noticed the smoothness of his shoulders. Chase wasn't muscular in the sense that he looked like a Calvin Klein model, but he was close. His butt in those boxers were very nice as well. The boxers were navy blue, obviously American Eagle because there were multiple Eagle logos al over them. He turned around,

               “Hey, my turn’ he said.

               I must have not been hiding my looks of intense lustful admiration because his lips slowly curved to a smirk, and he flexed his chest and hell.  He didn’t have a six pack, but his chest was hot, nonetheless. He didn’t have a lot of hair, but there was some that formed a line from the bottom of his belly button to the top the waistband of his boxers. This was the first time that my thoughts went to the possible size of his dick under those boxers. I can't remember for sure, but I was probably hard. Chase started to walk across the room.

               “I know what you're thinking, don't do it” he said as he walked by me to go into the bathroom. I quickly turned around after he walked by me. He stopped walking and turned his head slightly.

               "You can’t help it can you?” he said.

               “I guess not” I replied as my hands slowly gripped his boxers.

               I tug slowly. This was my first time giving a wedgie with the other guy not wearing pants. The more I tug the more I see Chase's ass. It was firm and the more his boxers went up his butt, the harder my dick got. I drop his boxers and gently tap both of his checks with my hands.

               “Enjoy your shower" I said.

               “Thanks” he said walking into the bathroom.

               He stayed in there for about ten minutes. When he came out of the bathroom, he had pajama bottoms with multiple XBOX logos on it. He was still wearing the same boxers that I had just wedgied, but the only way I could tell was that he was sagging his pajama bottoms slightly. But I only had a moment to observe that because he ran at me and jumped on me on the bed.

               It happened very fast. I can’t remember the specifics. But we were basically wrestling, He was the senior and he was obviously a lot stronger than me, but I gave it my all wrestling wise. He pinned me in headlocks and to the ground. He was a lot stronger. But Chase and I had different end goals. His was to pin me to the ground, mine was to pull his boxers up his butt again. I got his boxers a couple of times in the struggle, but not enough to really count the wedgies I gave him legit. But there was one moment when I ended up on the top of his back. My ass was sitting on his head, and I had to have been tea-bagging Chase as I gripped his boxers in both of my hands. I was also fully hard by that point, and there was no way that Chase didn’t know because my bulge was bulging into his shoulders. But his boxers were in my hand, and I started pulling. Pulling with all the strength possible. Chase was moaning but from pleasure or pain I couldn't tell. I successfully pull one mare strong pull and I heard a slight ripping sound. I snap his boxer’s waistband onto Chase’s back, and I roll off him.

               “Fuck, man that was the best wedgie yet” Chase said standing up with his hands in his,

butt fixing his boxers. I stayed laying on the bed breathing heavily.

               “Damn man, you sound like we just fucked” he laughed.

               I laughed that off, at at that moment a feeling of intense shame came over me. I hadn’t cum but I was close. What did those feelings mean? Why do wedgies turn me on? How can I keep this up? It was clear after today that I had extreme lust towards Chase. After seeing his body, smacking his ass, and wedgieing him like I just had.

               “Everything alright man?” Chase asked as he sat down at the front of the bed. But before I could say anything there was a knock on the door.

               I went and answered the door, and it was Lexi. She was one of the strongest actresses in the theatre department. A shoo in for the lead role in the competition play. She was texted the cast list for the competition play and wanted me to see it. I didn’t get the part… or any part in the play. Micah got the part. Lexi said that she wanted me to know because she didn’t want me to have to wait until Monday to see the cast list myself, but I think she wanted to tell me because she was (and still is) a world class bitch. I walked back into the room and crushed, I just started crying, I had never been more disappointed. I didn’t get the role that spoke to me and my true sexuality, and here I was crying in front of the only guy that I had ever had strong feelings for. Chase was very nice. He asked me what was wrong, and when I told him he didn't try to console me. He was just quiet as I laid down on the bed,

               I must have cried myself to sleep because one moment the lights were on, and the next they were off and there was an arm around my shoulder. It was Chase's. I looked over at the other bed and saw that it was still empty. The twins weren’t back yet. I twisted my body around and there was Chase, with his eyes wide open staring at me. He said nothing and we continued just looking at one another. I wanted to kiss him, and I was positive that he wanted to kiss me. But we didn’t kiss. But what I did feel was a hand gently placing itself around my groin. Chase's hand was over my sweatpants, and he slowly put his hand into my sweats and then, into my boxer briefs. Upon impulse I reached in a removed his hand from my pants. But still staring at him. I let go of his hand. I then proceeded to stick my own, hand in my pants. I gently surrounded my dick with my fingers, and then slowly started lifting. and lowering my dick. I did this while continuing to stare at Chase. Chase decided after a couple moments that he would follow suit. He lifted the covers and stuck his hand in his boxers. We continued touching ourselves while still looking at one another. This was a new experience for me, jerking off with someone else in the room. I found it to be a very exhilarating experience. Someone else looking at me and jerking off too. I couldn't see his dick, and he couldn't see mine. That seemed to make it even hotter. We tried to keep rhythm with each other. I don’t know how long we did this, but I do remember that we didn’t climax at the same time. Chase came first, and I followed about ten seconds after. There were no words spoken during or after except for our moans. After we were done, we put the covers back on and just laid back down in bed together. I started crying again, but it was weird. There was so much sadness in my tears, but also a little comfort in the fact that in that singular moment that I was not alone. I cried gently but was surprised to feel Chase's arms wrap around my body, holding me tightly. We laid there spooned into each other. He was there holding me tightly not letting me go as slowly drifted off to sleep.

I think back to this night often. We were both in the closet at the time, and we were both not ready to admit to ourselves that we had these strong feelings. We just had this strong night together. if we were able to let ourselves be open to each other that night, maybe we would have gone farther in our sexual explorations. I did wish I kissed him that night. I wished that I let him touch me, blow me. I wish I could have seen his whole naked body, and that he could see mine. That night was more than just a wedgie fetish. But regardless, I am still grateful to what we did that night because it was a part of my story, and it was truly one of those moments when I realized that I could be attractive, that I could be desired, and that I won't always have to be alone.

[avxtarlz]

Okay hear me out- this might be a little stupid but I can’t get it off my mind- Coriolanus snow instead of Lucy gray and the covey, reader with a jazz band??? I really love jazz I just want to know his thoughts on all the different instruments and jazz singer reader! TYSM for at least listening! 🩷

Jazz || PeaceKeeper Coriolanus Snow x Female District! Jazz singer Reader

Summary: After coming Back from Winning The 10th Hunger games, One day while you and your Band Are playing You spot the same White haired Boy. Coriolanus never heard of Jazz before since the Capitol Is all Classic music, so You introduce him to your fellow band mates.

—————————-

You loved to sing With your band. They were like your family.

You missed them the Entire time you were in the arena. Wishing you would be back with them. But with the help of Coriolanus snow getting you back to your family like he promised.

Now in the Train heading back to Twelve Feeling miserable of how you didn’t thank him.

Hopefully you two would meet again.

———————

“Did you guys miss me?!” You spoke in the Microphone on stage.

A bunch of Yes’s were shouting all over the Club.

“Well I sure missed you! But I assure you I am back!” You started to smile

“Well how bout a song huh?” You started to ajust your Mic.

You turned back to your band Nodding at them to know your ready.

———————

As you and Your band Are up stage Performing for the audience Enjoying yourselfs. While in the middle of Singing You make eye contact with those same Blue eyes you once Knew. You almost stopped singing but continued. You smiled as you started swaying.

Now done with your Music just Taking a break. “Hey guys I’ll be right back.” Putting the mic back up on its stand. They all nodded and smiled as they headed to the bar.

Making your way through the crowd saying Excuse me here and there seeing if you could spot those same Blue eyes again. Once you spot him standing in the same place you saw him, you started to walk over.

“Hey.” You smiled as him. “Hey, You were really good up there. Never heard of that type of Music.” He asked smiling. You looked shocked. “You’ve never heard of jazz before?” You teased him. “No, back in the Capitol it’s all Classic you know.” He nodded leaning against the wall.

“Wow. Well I have to meet you to My band mates. Come.” You motioned with your hands signaling him to follow. You made sure he was following you through the crowd heading backstage where your band were just sitting and chatting around.

You and Coriolanus walked up to them as you introduced them to him. “Hey guys this Is Coriolanus. He was my mentor back in the capitol, He helped me win the games and come back.” They all looked at Corio.

“Thank you for helping her. We wouldn’t know what we would do without her. She’s like our little sister.” Your Band mate Bennie walked up to Corio as he Nodded at him. “Of course.” Coriolanus nodded back.

“Corio let me introduce them to you.” You patted his back. “Well here’s Bennie, He’s our Saxophonist. Then we have Finch Which who plays our Trumpet. Here’s Charlie who’s our drummer. Miles is our bassists, Our Guitarist is Django, and Lastly Calloway is our pianist. And I’m the voice of course.” You grinned as all you band mates waved and greeted Corio.

“Nice to meet you all. I do enjoy your Music very much.” Corio grinned. “Yeah, thanks man but we should probably head back on stage now guys.” Miles pointed to the stage. They all started to head on stage setting up. You turned around to Coriolanus. “It was nice seeing you again Corio, and thank you for everything,” you started to Tear up.

“No,No I should be thanking you Y/n, You saved me in thatBombing. I owe you my life. Just don’t forget that. I promised you I would bring you back to your family.” Coriolanus grabbed your hands. With his other hand he wiped the Tears falling from your eyes.

“Thank you Corio.” You weakly smiled. The silence broke as You heard in the background of jazz music started to play. “I think I should go now.” You pointed back to the stage while wiping your tears. “Yeah. I’ll be watching you out there.” Corio grinned. You smiled at him as you walked back on stage.

_________________

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 1) Chapter Fifteen

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Fifteen: One Hell of a Curry

Summary: (Y/N) and Sebastian find humans infected by hate and a strange butler to the Queen.

            “Thank you for waiting!” said the announcer to the crowd of spectators at the Curry Festival. Soma, Ciel, Lau, (Y/N), and the rest of the Phantomhive servants stood in the front row as they watched Sebastian and the other chefs come onstage to create their curries. “Welcome to the Curry Festival for the pride of London’s curry shops!” The judges waved.

            And there was Viscount Druitt, yet again. Quite the pest.

            “Oh, he’s here again,” observed Lau.

            “The show off,” said Ciel.

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched in irritation.

            “Well, then let us begin coo—!” The announcer was interrupted by trumpet fare.

            A long red carpet was rolled out, and the crowd parted. Ciel’s eyes widened as he saw a veiled woman in black beside a butler dressed in white.

            “Her Majesty,” he said.

            “England’s Mother, our beloved Queen Victoria, has graced up with her presence!” said the announcer, bowing with the rest of the people.

            “God save our gracious Queen!” declared Druitt as the Queen walked down the aisle. Her butler escorted her as the people sang “God Save the Queen.”

            As the Queen and butler passed (Y/N), the butler glanced down at them, and violet eyes met (E/C). Instantly, (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. Their instincts were on edge the moment he looked at them. It was over in a moment, though, and the Queen sat on a makeshift throne overlooking the room.

            “Her Majesty declares, ‘We have not seen you in some time and are sorry to have concerned you. However, our constitution has improved remarkably, and now we are even able to come and sample curry. We wish everyone well and hold great expectations for this food that my late husband loved so much,’ ” said the butler.

            The crowd applauded wildly.

            “Well then, to the cuisine!” declared the announcer.

            The people watched in admiration as the cooks began working, adding spices and flavoring to their curries, delicious aromas mixing in the air around them. Agni and Sebastian were already miles above the other competitors in terms of skill, showing their abilities with their usual gracefulness. Agni’s right hand moved with its own mind, adding spices without even having to consider the taste. He knew it by heart. However, Sebastian wasn’t to be outdone, and the aroma of his curry was as delicious as Agni’s. And then…

            “Hey! What is he doing?” cried one man in the crowd.

            The crowd’s eyes widened, and murmurs ran through the crowd as Sebastian placed bits of chocolate in the curry, just as he told (Y/N) he would. West and several other were quite skeptical and derisive, but (Y/N) could see Agni’s eyes widen. He knew that the taste could work if done right.

            “How did you, an Englishman, ever come up with such an idea?” said Agni.

            “It was by my Master’s order,” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N) grinned playfully as Ciel’s eye twitched.

            “As long as my Master gives an order, I will make it happen, no matter what it may be,” said Sebastian. He smirked. “After all, I am one hell of a butler.”

            “He has a way with words,” remarked Lau.

            “Is that supposed to be sarcasm?” said Ciel.

            “He certainly likes to play with his words,” said (Y/N), amused. “How dramatically vague he is.” Sebastian smirked at them from on stage, and (Y/N) rolled their eyes fondly.

            Agni’s eyes widened as he saw them interact. To him, he saw Sebastian having someone to cook for. And him…Soma was nowhere in the crowd. Agni was alone. He shook his head and focused, picking up a basket with his next ingredient.

            “A blue lobster!” gasped Druitt. “The legendary lobster said to live only off the coast of Brittany. The deep cerulean that even compares favorably to Chartres Cathedral! Wrapped in its delicate, colorful shell, it’s just like a fine lady in a blue dress.” Somehow, Druitt had a blue lobster hat on his head. “Hidden underneath that dress is a delicate sweetness of the highest quality, said to lead people to delirium!”

            “As you can see, that is the highest quality ingredient for a curry,” said West in condescending satisfaction. “It is not merely some cheap little additive.”

            But even as Agni worked furiously to prepare the lobster, Sebastian calmly continued cooking. He would not be shaken. So through the entire countdown, he worked gracefully until time was called.

            “Time’s up! Now the judging with commence!” declared the announcer. “First up is the Persian Tub’s Beef Curry.”

            “There are large pieces of beef generously mixed in,” observed one judge.

            “Flavors are rather balanced, if a bit missing proper kick,” said another.

            “Rather unappealing,” sighed Druitt.

            “Next up, Doll Company!” said the announcer.

            “This is your own home spice, isn’t it?” asked Druitt as he tasted the curry.

            “Y-Yes,” stammered the nervous chef, and (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at the obviously lying man.

            “What is it? One thing alone stands out, producing an amazing fragrance,” said Druitt.

            “But the overall balance is poor, and it’s overpowered by the fragrance,” said a judge.

            “Well, I’ll give you points for trying,” said Druitt.

            “Next up is Chef Agni from the Harold West estate,” declared the announcer.

            “May I present my curry,” said Agni, taking the lid of his tray off. “Lobster and a seven flavored sauce.”

            (Y/N) blinked. He had made seven flavors to be served with the blue lobster. Now that was a feat.

            “What amazing brightness!” cried one judge. “D-Delicious! The tender meat spreads a delicate sweetness throughout your mouth the moment you bite into it.”

            “Moreover, with a seven-flavored curry, each flavor blends harmoniously with the blue lobster,” exclaimed another judge.

            “Ah!” Druitt was damn near moaning. “This is…The graceful beauty I met at the ball. Like seven jewels adorning your overwhelming elegance. A heart-shaped, golden brooch, a sapphire and pearl bracelet, a garnet necklace, a cameo cut pin, and on your fingers a diamond and emerald ring! All of them bring out your beauty even more! I had my heart stolen by you!”

            The crowd gasped in amazement at his analysis. (Y/N) was just glad he wasn’t referencing them again.

            “Such high class!” cried the announcer. “Will the winner be decided just like that, or will we see an even better appraisal? Our final contestant is the Funtom Company!”

            “I humbly present my curry,” said Sebastian, taking the lid of his tray. Three balls of a doughy substance were revealed within.

            “Are you toying with us?” huffed a judge.

            Sebastian just smiled as he took tongs and dipped the dough balls into a frying pan and allowed the outsides to turn crisp.

            “He’s frying it?!” cried the judges. Whispers started up in the crowd.

            Leave it to Sebastian to get people talking. Still, when Sebastian glanced up at them in the crowd, they had nothing but pure support for whatever the hell his plan was resting in their eyes.

            “It is complete. This is our company’s curry,” said Sebastian, placing the fried dough (with hopefully curry somewhere) on the judge’s plates.

            “And I’m saying, where is that curry?” demanded a judge.

            “Wait just this second, this is—!” Druitt’s eyes widened as he cut into the dough. Curry, aromatic and beautiful, spilled out from within the fried dough. “From the inside, the curry is—!”

            “This is the curry that our company proudly presents,” said Sebastian. “It is called a Curry Bun!”

            The judge’s eyes widened as he tasted the dough and curry. “This is-This is delicious! The fried bread’s crunchy and fluffy crust creates a superb gradation together with the thick curry, which is perfectly formed!”

            “What’s more impressive than anything else is the architecture that keeps in the taste and fragrance of the curry,” said another judge. “The moment you pierce it with a knife, it is all released!”

            Druitt gasped as he tasted it, a blush appearing on his cheeks. He was rearing up for another poetry session. “This is the alluring person I met at the soiree! By day, a beauty wrapped in raven wings, smiling and elegant as the birds, but by night, the true face is revealed, and the teasing raven is wrapped in darkness of sinful perfection!”

            (Y/N) had really spoken too soon about nothing being about them.

            “I want to embrace you!” cried Druitt to his fantasy. “And yet you are always one step out of reach!”

            He needs help, thought (Y/N). They deadpanned as Sebastian raised a teasing eyebrow in their direction.

            “Once again, what is this high praise?” said the announcer. “Has the victor become less certain? Now we shall allow the judges time to deliberate on their verdict! During that time, everyone, please help yourself to whichever curry suits you.”

            People were instantly heading to the buffet tables to try the delicious curries. Most ate either Agni or Sebastian’s creations, but people still tried the other two companies’ curries out of curiosity.

            “Oh, yes, the Queen didn’t try any,” remarked Lau. “Isn’t she going to judge?”

            “She probably isn’t judging out of consideration for her health,” said Ciel. “However, there is a possibility she will try a curry she is interested in. Depending on that, the judges’ impressions will change. The bestowal of the Royal Warrant is down to Her Majesty.”

            “Well, well, well,” said (Y/N), smirking. “Look who’s being approached.”

            Ciel’s head snapped to the stage. The Queen’s butler had approached Sebastian and spoke to him. The crowd murmured as Sebastian bowed and gave a plate with a curry bun to the butler to give to Her Majesty. There was silence as she took a bite.

            “Her Majesty declares, ‘A good that is easy for even children to eat, requiring neither knife nor fork, fulfilling both the rich and the poor, allowing both children and adults to partake of it equally is commensurate with my goal of creating a kind and pure country,’ ” said the butler. “Treasuring children and the future, this kind stance moves Her Majesty greatly.

            “Don’t make me sick!” cried a woman’s voice angrily, cutting through the respectful silence. An Indian woman ((Y/N) surmised it must be Mina since Agni’s eyes widened as she spoke) stood, glowing with malevolence. “That’s too sugary. Equality? The future? For this bountiful country, where there are no hardships, what a pretentious queen!”

            “Mina, stop at once!” said West. “You’re in Her Majesty’s presence!”

            “Get lost!” Mina elbowed him, and West went flying back from her empowered strength.

            “Restrain her!” said a constable.

            “Shut up! Curry is rough and spicy!” declared Mina as she easily fought off the policemen.

            “Ah!” cried Druitt as he watched. “With her flowing legs carrying her and her inviting hip pose…She is truly like the Kali statue!” He was giggling happily until a constable was thrown on top of him.

            “He and Grell should meet one another,” murmured (Y/N) as they readied for a fight. Around them, more people were beginning to glow with malevolent power and try to force their way towards the Queen.

            (Y/N) and Ciel moved towards the dais, but several men blocked their way. “They smell…They smell of hatred and desire!” All the infected people turned towards them.

            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. So, they can smell demons and contracts…Interesting.

            “The stench of filth,” spat a man.

            (Y/N) chuckled darkly. “Filth? Darling, I am sublime.” They took the man���s arm and threw him into another few of the infected.

            Sebastian leapt into the crowd with a ladle and fought off several people going for his master and (Y/N). “Are you trying to become like Asura, the one who faced Kali?”

            “I’m not a demon who’s going to get killed,” scoffed (Y/N). “I intend to rewrite the legend. Join me?”

            “With pleasure,” said Sebastian.

            “Stop messing around and stop that Kali,” ordered Ciel, eyebrow twitching at the demons’ dramatics.

            “Yes, my Lord,” said Sebastian, and he and (Y/N) jumped into action.

            Mina was ferocious as she attacked, moving so quickly she truly did seem to have four arms. (Y/N) and Sebastian matched her, though. She was still but a mortal. The rest of the infected continued attacking people until Agni, reunited with his prince, began defending the people scrambling to escape.

            “I shall support you!” said Agni.

            “You have become even more powerful. Has something happened?” said (Y/N).

            “Yes. Right now, I’m invincible!” said Agni.

            “Excellent,” said (Y/N).

            “Yes, yes, let’s finish this, now,” said Sebastian, interrupting Agni and (Y/N) speaking.

            The three attacked the approaching infected before they reached the Queen. Ciel, the Queen’s butler, and the Queen watched.

            “You have most splendid servants, do you not?” remarked the butler. “It seems there will be no need for me to make an appearance. But do you not think this peculiar? If that was the power of the spice, then why is it that just one group of people was affected? If that were the case, there should be many more going out of control.” His gaze darkened. “After all, there is no one in this world who is truly at peace with themselves.”

            Ciel made the connection with the curries at the precise moment Mina broke past Agni, Sebastian, and (Y/N) as they fought off the other humans. She ran at the dais angrily, shouting at the world.

            “Wait, Mina!” Soma threw himself in front.

            “The idiot!” cried Ciel.

            Agni’s eyes widened.

            Mina slipped on a piece of blue lobster and crashed to the floor. Very anticlimactic.

            “Forgive me, Mina!” said Soma, pressing a foot down on her back.

            “Sebastian, (Y/N)! The curry buns!” shouted Ciel. “Make them eat the curry buns!”

            “Understood,” said Sebastian, picking up a platter. “A kind curry created by a demon.” He tossed several curry buns into infected people’s mouths, and (Y/N) joined him with precision.

            How absolutely like him. A completely ironic joke, though Ciel. However, if he has decided to imbue it with kindness, then its power is perfect.

            As the infected people were forced to eat the curry bun and taste the sweetness and “kindness” of it, the malevolent aura faded, and they were left looking confused at their own actions.

            “M-Mina?” asked Soma.

            “Soma? You really are the worst…” she said in quiet disappointment before falling unconscious.

            “Her Majesty declares, ‘The kind curry bun is able to subdue evil spice and appease the soul of those in the grip of evil. The Royal Warrant’s destination is clear,’ ” said the Queen’s butler.

            “What will happen to them?” said Ciel, watching as the infected, exhausted from the ordeal, were lifted away by doctors and constables called in front outside.

            “They will not be mistreated,” said the butler. “Master Ciel, you did a sterling job today. Also, for obtaining the Royal Warrant, I, Ash, congratulate you sincerely. I have a word of appreciation from Her Majesty. Her Majesty declares, ‘I have put you through a great deal of trouble. I am ever watching over your work. I am the light and Master Ciel is the shadow.’ ” Ash bowed and delivered a personal message. “Our positions may be different, but I believe our wishes are the same. Please continue to use your strength for Her Majesty’s benefit in the future.”

            “I shall,” said Ciel.

            Ash bowed his head once more before turning to Sebastian, (Y/N), and Agni. “And to my fellow servants, thank you for your excellent work in protecting the Queen.”

            Agni bowed respectfully, and Sebastian put his hand to his heart. “Of course. What butler would I be if I didn’t?” Sebastian said it with a smile, but (Y/N) could see the same wariness in his eyes. Whatever it was about Ash that set them off was kept carefully guarded. Even Angela had given off more of an air of inhumanity that Ash.

            “We are here in service, after all,” said (Y/N), putting a curated smile on their face.

            “Quite,” said Ash. He bowed, took (Y/N)’s hand, and kissed the back.

            (Y/N)’s nose twitched in annoyance at the touch, and Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.

            “Well, then, I shall take my leave,” said Ash, turning and walking back to the Queen’s side.

            “Thank you, Ciel,” said Soma. “If I hadn’t met you, I would have remained an ignorant, selfish child. From now on, I’ll learn lots more and travel all over England…No, the world, and become a fine enough man not to lose face to anyone!”

            “Master Sebastian, (Y/N),” said Agni. He bowed to them. “The Prince and I have gained so much from you all. I could not begin to thank you.”

            “Please, raise your head,” said Sebastian. “I merely fought on my own behalf.”

            “We have done nothing to be thanked for,” said (Y/N). “Just as the gods you believe in, Kali and Shiva, could take the pain they held and see their mistakes, so it is with both of you.”

            Sebastian’s smile turned cruel as he saw Agni’s eyes shining as he looked at (Y/N), and Sebastian took his attention away from them. “Besides, I doubt a bonding experience without pain would be a fruitful one.”

            “To be taught my country’s teachings by an Englishman…I am truly humbled,” said Agni.

            “Nationality does not matter. Wherever and whenever you are, there are always similarities,” said Sebastian.

            “You are all humans, after all,” said (Y/N).

            “That’s true. Just as the sunset by the bank of the Ganges and the sunset of England are both beautiful,” said Agni, staring at (Y/N) and Sebastian as the setting sun shone behind them.

            Soma’s eyes turned teary at the beautiful scene and words, and he hugged Ciel tightly. “Oh!”

            “Let me go!” complained Ciel.

            “I am so glad we came to England,” remarked Agni, smiling at the scene. He turned to Sebastian and (Y/N). “The prince and I have both made friends.”

            Sebastian’s eyes widened slightly, and (Y/N) blinked.

            “Friends, you say?” murmured Sebastian. “That is the first time someone has called me that.

            “Friends…” (Y/N)’s eyes went to Sebastian.

l

            “I hadn’t expected a curry festival to be quite so exciting,” said (Y/N) with a chuckle as they finished cleaning the curry pot beside Sebastian. “I’ll say it again, your contract is a magnet for trouble.”

            “When it is a soul such as his, trouble is bound to appear,” said Sebastian. “But that is what will make the end all the more satisfying.”

            “I suppose so,” said (Y/N).

            Sebastian glanced at them. “I forget that you prefer your fun to be with those your contract competes with.”

            “ ‘Compete’ is a tame word,” said (Y/N). “But yes. I find my satisfaction in tearing my contract’s enemies apart. And then, once my contract feels the power and has satisfied their own cravings, they satisfy mine.”

            “I wonder, would the humans consider my way or yours more humane?” remarked Sebastian coyly.

            “There are reasons different demons are drawn to different summoners,” said (Y/N). They smirked. “But I’ll humor you. Let me ask a question instead.”

            “Oh?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow. He had no doubt this would be interesting. (Y/N) never failed to be.

            (Y/N) grinned and picked up a curry bun left over from the buffet. “Which one of us created a curry bun imbued with kindness?” They took a bite as they smirked at Sebastian.

            His eyes flashed in enjoyment. He had been correct; once again, they did not fail to match wits and come equal to him. Sebastian leaned forward. “I did. But who enjoyed the sweetness?”

            (Y/N)’s smirk turned to a smile, and Sebastian faltered for a moment. “If I were to follow a human’s logic, I’d say a ‘friend’ did.”

            Sebastian was silent for a moment as he stared at them. There was a challenging look in their eye, although it disguised something else he couldn’t identify, something he had never seen in (Y/N)’s gaze. When he spoke, his words came slowly as if he was considering them carefully.

            “A friend…Yes, I suppose that would be true,” said Sebastian. A slight smile quirked the edges of his lips, genuine. “Friends. Yes.”

            (Y/N) leaned their head on a hand and smiled at him. Their heart fluttered. “Friends.”

            Two demons, friends. Two demons, whose “non-existent” hearts sought just a bit more.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@idkhowtoplayhoyoversegames

@iamsexytrash

[shiviswriting]

Dishes

Hermione has conflicts. No one would believe it if she said it out loud. But every situation, every detail is over analysed by her brain. But what is fascinating even to her is the speed with which each thought accelerates, finds connections and processes the information. Today, Hermione came back home with a decision to make that could possibly alter her life hereafter. She needed something to occupy her mind, but not too much.

She opted for washing the dishes.

Washing dishes is so mundane, but substantial. Hermione has this habit of cooking in large quantities and washing dishes the most muggle way (not using dishwasher but hands). She never knew cooking was satisfying or would keep her sane, until one their horcrux hunt, she secretly catalogued that she would pursue cooking post war. When she was young she saw her mother and Molly cooking. She has always wondered if cooking was like potions, after a fair bit of her share of making potions and cooking religiously she can assert its exactly opposite to it. Cooking is more of art while potions is science. She has grown to love art more than science. So, she cooks a lot. She makes amazing breakfast, then packs lunch for herself, Harry, Ron and sometimes Ginny and she also takes care of dinner. They all live together. On weekends someone is always at their home, sometimes it's Neville or Luna, sometimes it's Kingsley or Andromeda and almost every week the Slytherins come for their Friday ritual of dinner. She is never tired of cooking, if ever she is tired she bakes. It's funny how the boys or Ginny never hesitates to join and cook with her and help her. But tonight she wanted some time to just debate everything in her mind and later write everything out on the white board in her room.

She looked at the large sink and smiled. This sink was one of the checklist ticks when she was house hunting. It's large, farm style and just has this beautiful crack that just gives a character. Hermione several times wondered how did it crack or will it ever crack? Oh, she and her non-stop mind.

Today the sink was filled to the brim.

She cooked elaborately today, just because why not? She changed to her comfortable tank top and shorts, opened the windows and she put on her favourite apron. Teddy gave her those with his scribbles and family and friends wrote on it. The best part of magic is that Hermione always felt that stuff like this can be preserved forever.

She turned on the tap, she wet her hands and took some dishwasher in the scrub. And then started scrubbing. Today Kingsley called her to his cabin, it was a pre scheduled meeting and Hermione took lunch for him also, so they can eat during their meeting. Kingsley surprisingly has a palate for the so-called "muggle junk food". She introduced burger to him after the war at their meeting for drafting an international legislation on dark wizards. She introduced him to KFC and he is a changed man thereafter. As they sat and started munching, Kingsley worshipped his fried chicken with gravy and later started. Kinglsey is unique in the way that he doesn't beat around the bush.

"I wish you would accept the position of Minister of Magic"

Hermione did not expect this from him, he is exceptional in this post. "Why?" she asked as she dipped her chicken in the gravy

"I actually think this is the right time to retire and pursue what I always wanted to do, Hermione. And I can not think of anyone else perfectly suited for this title and job description. I just want to play my trumpet solo or in a band." Now this is not what Hermione thought of Kingsley. She thought he was more of a piano person. The picture of Kingsley with Trumpet is her new favourite image. 

But then Minister of Magic is not an ordinary post. She has seen Fudge, Scrimgeour, Thicknesse and Kingsley in her time in the magical world, read a few Autobiographies, biographies, articles and maybe written a few laws for and on this title. She has definitely imagined what it would be like to be Minister of Magic, not once but several times. But never in her dreams she actually, really and truly wanted to be one. She has not explored administration as much as she would like to accept this position.

Hermione knows Kingsley is not puzzled to see her while thinking. This is what she always does. She asked the deadline to make the decision and took her leave from the minister's cabin, leaving behind some Blueberry pie.

Hermione is methodical.

However mundane washing dishes maybe she never felt sulkiness towards the chore. Probably her OCD. She scrubs the big pan first, followed by the next smaller size and then the smallest. 

What would it mean to her to be minister of Magic? It would mean her higher purpose and goals will be more accessible. She does very well just because she has power, she can not change everything. But it is the first step towards the process. Centuries old magical laws, irrelevant and cruel systems can be altered with more ease than now.

She scrubs the pots. She avoids the scrubber, uses a more gentle brush to scrub away the residue. She doesn't mind scratches. What is anything without a scratch? But she just does not want the Teflon or whatever the non-stick material is to not peel off.

She can finally work on the discrimination against non-human magical creatures, squibs and make magical society more inclusive and less discriminatory. She will absolutely set an age for old folks to retire. She welcomes their inputs but not all are Dumbledore to be open minded.

Then spoons, whiskers, Ladle, Spatula, knives and a peeler. She pays attention to the handle and then the crevices.

Magical world has rarely been gender biased. She has always wondered if the role that Molly chooses to play or the acceptance of Ginny as a Quidditch star to be very heart warming. She has very rare similar references in the muggle world. The magical world somehow has some sort of gender sensitivity and inclusivity to an astonishing magnitude. However, if Hermione becomes a Minister of Magic, it will not be gender, but rather her muggle born status that would be highly discussed. Hermione has a deep understanding of the rootedness of the prejudices. She has seen, read and experienced in her lifetime. Hermione believes that prejudices are also a sort of power monger or political stance. The ability to discriminate and drive masses to hold the same ideas and exclude, bully and torture certain members of the same society are no ordinary feat.  At the same time a society has its fascinating ways of evolving and revolt against the same beliefs.

She starts washing the dishes so that the soap does not dry in the utensils. Further, she dries each of the dishes with a towel to prevent rust.

At the same time she is young, can she date? Can she just enter Diagon alley to browse Flourish and Blotts or go to Florean Fortescue's ice-cream? Not that she can do that easily now, but will she even have time? What if she over works herself. She does have a past of over working and driving herself to exhaustion. Overworking her was like a toxic boyfriend and she does not need that relationship.

She let the washed utensils dry.

What would Harry say? Harry would ask her what she wants and offer her the pros and cons. Ron would probably say that she should take it up. Ginny would say to go for what she wants and all Slytherins would encourage her for all the political gains.

She started scrubbing all the glasses and cups.

Arthur would be a better person to discuss this over a fancy Japanese place in muggle London. Bill would be of great advice too. She should take them both together probably. She also made a mental note to write a letter to Charlie, it's been ages.

She started washing the glasses and cups.

She wants kids at some point. Not now, but sometime in the future. She has not found the father yet. And the thought made her laugh. Because, accepting this job would not leave a lot of time to date and maybe not all dates would be apolitical. Maybe she would date a muggle. It was fun last time.

She liked the clinking sounds of glasses and cups.

She noticed Harry peering at her from the doorway. She waved hello, Harry wore his apron and started to dry the glasses with the towel, "So, Kingsley spoke to you?"

Hermione was not surprised.

Kingsley spoke to her before offering the job as Head Auror to Harry.

"What's on your mind?"

Hermione can never, ever speak out loud of what's on her mind, just because of the simple fact that it would scare people off. The magnitude and the way it processes, it's always very wild. "Just thinking about the pros and cons". Ron opened the door and smiled at them. Ron has the most comforting smile of all people.

Hermione feels home with these two.

He started arranging the glasses and cups in the rack.

"You are overqualified Hermione." Ron said right in cue as Kingsley has consulted him too. Both Harry and Hermione laughed at his expression, because Ron has always been the hype man she never needed.

Ron smiled so nostalgically and said "I wish to see more people with a scar across their face like the one Marietta Edgecombe had." Both Harry and Ron laughed at Hermione as her face started becoming red. She didn't need a reminder. She is a Gryffindor, maybe just 0.1 percentage Slytherin? She never really thought it was wrong of her to do something like that, at the same time Hermione was in her rebel age. Ron continued "You need to work in conflict management, Hermione. It can be extremely stressful with international conflicts and national issues. The science of muggle is always growing that it is not at all retrainable, we should really work on the implications of that." They have discussed this several times. Hogwarts muggle studies curriculum also should be revamped. She did write one a few years ago, but it continuously needs work.

Hermione doing the bowls.

"Hermione, whatever you decide we will always be here for you. However, you should not overwork. We both know your tendency to take more and honestly, nothing ever is enough for that brain of yours and capabilities."

Hermione swatted Harry with her elbow.

"You know, I often wonder... are we like dedicated to the public?" Harry asked with a serious expression. "It's nothing wrong and we seriously enjoy this bloody job. But we are so always in centre, dont you think?"

Ron with a deep thought said "I mean, there could be something called destiny right?"

Hermione couldn't agree more.

She has often wondered about the ability of them to not say no to anything that's dangerous, impulsive and heroic. "The hat probably made the right choice, Harry."  Harry quietly said "Hermione thanks for the lunch, it was so very tasty. Let's have dinner in that Mexican place in Muggle London. I am feeling Mexican today" as if talking out loud would stop her train of thoughts and he does not want to interrupt.

Hermione agreed.

One thing disturbed her is that she is young. Her teen self would have loved to make history by being the youngest woman Minister of Magic. But now, she just wants a hassle free life. Hermione is always "The Hermione Granger '' and she would always be "The Golden Girl". She can be a minister at any point in her life, if truly she wanted. Now all that she wants is peace, quiet and work in the backdrop. She wants some time for herself to understand herself without the burden of title and position of power. Hermione just wants to be Miss. Hermione Granger from the Department of Mysteries.

They changed into something comfortable. It was already midnight when they finished eating and were walking back. Ron asked if she had decided and Hermione did "Maybe after some years I would reconsider" and they smiled in agreement. 

[styrmwb]

Favorite Final Fantasy Music (FFIV)

part 4 moon part

FFIV is finally going to be easy for me cause there's consistent uploads and I think the SNES sounds good so woooooo this soundtrack goes dummy (every game goes dummy)

5. Mystic Mysidia This song is so goofy. This is definitely one I recommend listening to the PR version of cause that one is extremely weird (in a good way). I love the little bouncing backing, and the xylophone melody, it sounds perfect for a silly little mage town where you get some silly little mage twins that DEFINITELY won't have a tragic moment nope

4. Golbez, Clad in Darkness Man I love Golbez, he's like my favorite FFIV character. This is such a perfect "EVIL VILLAIN" theme with the organ, I love how the melody is later used for Tower of Zot, but this version has the organ solo too which is super cool.

3. Battle 2 This is my favorite Super Mario RPG song. But actually though I think the biggest reason I like this song is cause of Theatrhythm, cause they make you play the off beats, and in my head I always think of those and so it feels like, bouncy. This is also a song I think the SNES sounds really good with (I am a sucker for some compressed trumpet (yes I like pokemon ruby and sapphire too)) Also the bass??? boo doo boo doo boo doo boo doo (the ramblings of a madman) the last thing I will make a nonsensical rambling about is the ending of the song how it goes higher and higher and then smoothly loops GOD it's so good

2. The Final Battle This is a song that I think the SNES version got the best; the intro is outstanding. It starts out with that build, then the heavy drum hits. Then you get like, the start of the melody, and like, only in this version do they get the echoey sounds going, other ones sound like it just kinda hits multiple times but this version has an echo and I love that!! After the beginning it goes into this other part that sounds kinda menacing but also there's like a heroic sounding horn fighting against the evil, fitting perfectly for a final boss battle, and the end of the song does this too. I love it man

1. Battle with the Four Fiends This is absolutely my favorite song in this game, it's like, if you made a tier list, the rest of this list would be A tier and this would be S+, that is the gap to me. The buildup, the melody, the part where it goes DUN DUN DUN DUN doo doo doo doo doo doo LIKE THE WHOLE BOUNCY HORN THING (I WISH I KNEW MUSIC WORDS BETTER BUT I HOPE YOU GET WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY) THIS SONG IS SO FUN and I could listen to it on repeat always. Not once have I heard a version of this song that I have disliked at all. Plus there's the funny Hyadain version and I always think of "gentleman, gentleman" but that's not really a reason for liking the song that's just bonus also can someone tell me why I'm terrible with tumblr formatting

[the-l-spacer]

Hello asimov fandom here's my humble contribution to the fic pile (and obviously its about the mule)

-

He’d read once, in a book-film in the corner of an old shop on a backwater planet, that power corrupted. That absolute power corrupted — absolutely.

He had long since forgotten the name of the book-film and the planet on which he had read it; all discarded along with the memories of his earlier life, filled with nothing but degradation and misery. Yet, the lone sentiment remained, and Magnifico — The Mule — could not find it in himself to agree. 

How could I? , he thought, as his long fingers moved deftly across the Visi-Sonor, adjusting the multitude of contacts comprehensible solely to the one who played it. For power does not corrupt, it frees. 

His audience of Foundationers, dressed in their best in preparation for the fifth opening of the Time Vault, barely saw him, now. Barely saw the pathetic figure he cut on stage before them, in his colourful and ill-fitting costume, his awkward limbs and too-long nose. No — when he performed, they saw only what he wanted them to see. Thr Visi-Sonor conjured flashes of colour that exploded before their eyes and resolved into grand visions of gleaming kingdoms amid never-ending fields of stars, glimpsed in an instant and destroyed with the slightest turn of a knob, then rebuilt into something far greater. 

Beneath their base reactions, he could sense their minds, too, the emotions that fell sway to him as surely as the notes cascaded from his instrument, making them gasp and sigh and weep upon his command. He revelled in it; after so long spent at the mercy of others, the power, the control was dizzying, and he had yet to tire of the feeling in the time since the discovery of his abilities. For the duration of this performance, they were but playthings, his playthings, and soon— it would be soon, for he knew that his ships were nearing Terminus by the minute — the rest of the planet would follow suit. 

It was a delicate balance he struck, being on this stage, having been commissioned by the imbecile in mayoral garb to compose a Visi-Sonor concerto in honour of the great Hari Seldon. The piece was to rally the despondent citizens of Terminus as the shadow of the Mule hung heavy over them, to inspire renewed confidence in the far-off promise of the second and greater Galactic Empire, helmed by the Foundation itself. And so it did! He flicked his wrist decisively, and trumpets and booming drums sounded forth, exclaiming, Victory!

Yet, the performance had to be laced with an undercurrent of doubt, for that was why he was here on Terminus. Here, the minds of military leaders and politicians and citizens were his to alter as he wished, with almost no effort from his part – for only a civilization of fools would have absolute confidence in the calculations and projections of a man who had been dead for centuries. And as much as the galaxy had to say about the Foundationers, no one called them fools. All he had to do was find the fractures in their fervent beliefs, the unspoken: but how could psychohistory possibly predict this? , and widen them just so, until eventually, eventually , their psyches broke under the burden.

It was easier with the Visi-Sonor, and for that he was grateful. The sound of a single discordant pitch, too brief to take notice of but there all the same, an image of a seemingly-immaculate marble bust – with a small, hairline crack running through its centre. This and more he made real in the audience’s minds’ eye, and as they sat, rapt at attention, he almost let a wry smile slip across his face. Almost.

If only they knew that what they most feared, the one factor the great Hari Seldon could not predict, was there among them, an invited guest! 

He let the final, tremulous note linger in the air, until it faded into the background hum of atomic energy. 

Applause; some polite and others fervent, admiring, and all eyes were on him. One mistake, one wrong move.. and he would be at their mercy.

A good thing, then, that assuming the position of the fool came as easily to him as breathing — too easily. He let himself shrink back, let his body curl into that whipped-dog position he’d taken up so many times throughout his youth, more a defence mechanism than anything. 

How simple it was – to look and act a fool, and have everyone’s assumptions do the rest of the work for him. All while his ships inched ever-closer, ready and waiting to turn their guns and atomic field-depressors to the Foundation at his signal. 

I will beat you, and the rest of the thrice-damned Galaxy will fall into place , he thought, allowing his knees to shake, his eyes to widen in fear at the onslaught of attention. He took a step back, and another. 

Then – 

“Magnifico, you played wonderfully!” 

And then, there was Bayta Darell.

-

Her hand was in his, as they followed Toran to their assigned seats around the Time Vault. He clutched to it, her palm small and plump, a stark contrast to his knobbly knuckles and stick-thin fingers.

Their seats were far from grand – the three would certainly not be graced with Indbur’s view of the hologram front and centre – but they would suffice. As Bayta turned to an acquaintance she knew in university, now an important someone-or-other in Foundation politics, the Mule slid his hand out from her grasp with a murmured, “A thousand pardons, my lady,” and drifted among the gathered crowd of the Terminus’ greatest – with the exception of his humble self, of course. 

He had work to do, Foundationers to edge into despair and hopelessness. And while he set about his task, he let his own mind wander to Bayta.

She was someone he did not, could not understand, and it maddened him. Keen and assertive, yet unquestionably kind. Why did she, of all people, look upon him as a person, as a friend , when all everyone else could see was an object of ridicule? What made her seek his company, clear the clutter in her and Toran’s guest bedroom for his Visi-Sonor? 

The Mule was not naïve. Too much had happened over the course of his life for him to simply place his trust in someone, as if it was something to be given freely. He knew that she seeked to uncover the Mule’s identity, to stop his rapid conquest that threatened the home she so dearly loved; and Magnifico was the Mule’s clown, the closest thing they had to a lead. 

At first, he’d dismissed her genuine fondness of him – and even at the thought, a gentle shudder racked his slight frame – as a byproduct of that need for information. Treat the Mule’s servant well, and out would spill that despot’s secrets and weaknesses; a logical enough exchange in theory. But as time went on, and Bayta and Toran and Pritcher and Ebling Mis deemed his mind too addled with fear to ever produce anything of use, she still insisted that he stay. 

Perhaps, then, it was her desire for someone to take care of, in the absence of a child. Toran had jokingly pointed out as much on several occasions. But even if this was maternal affection, the Mule could not recognise it, for he had never known his mother, nor any figure who could have substituted as one in his long adolescence. All he knew were cold figures of authority who met the needs of that strange, mutant freak – barely – out of obligation, and turned him out as soon as they could. Then, the streets, the twisting sewers and alleyways of his home planet, spaceports and travelling fairs, the cargo holds of transport ships taking him to planets in unknown sectors, before the discovery of his power led him here. 

And Bayta, with her dark, tired eyes and soft hands, wanted him to stay.

He did not have a place he could readily call ‘home’, he mused idly as the lights around the Time Vault dimmed, and he returned to his seat, drew into himself. Yes, he derived some small amount of amusement from having his pawns spread rumours of his origin, so that the Mule could have come from the Sayshell Union, or from Trantor, or from the Foundation itself; even from that elusive ‘Earth’, the planet from which legends claimed all life in the galaxy stemmed. But in truth, even he had forgotten the name of the planet he’d been born on, for all civilizations with technology barely advanced enough for interstellar travel seemed the same to him.

The closest place that came to it was the back of a rusty spaceship, where he’d spent some time as part of a theatre troupe travelling in the Ariminum sector. He found no camaraderie there, and certainly nothing approaching affection, but he had been left alone, and after a lifetime of jeers and whispers, that was a novelty in itself. Over his time with them, he had taught himself the Visi-Sonor, and picked up the delicate, lilting phrasing of the Central Sectors after months of observation. 

It was in this learned dialect that he spoke, as Bayta turned her attention to him. “Do you suppose, my lady, that all these great ones were in the audience, perhaps, when I… when I played the Visi-Sonor?” 

The day he mastered the instrument he held at his chest was one of the few moments of his unhappy life when he truly felt joy . It had taken months and months of constant practice for him to make any sense of the knobs and switches that comprised its unwieldy body, and even more until he could shape a piece to his liking. 

And it was only after the fact, when he realised that humans were much the same as the dials of the instrument; a minute adjustment, a semitonal shift and their tunes could be transformed entirely. Anger could be moulded to placidity, derision to respect, and contempt to… to an emotion he dared not name.

Bayta had undergone no such change, and yet, she replied with a gentle patience that made him want to lash out, to break down and scream 'do you know who I am?’ . He did none of those things, however, as she reassured him that yes, the great minds of the Foundation had heard his performance, and thought him the greatest musician in the Galaxy, and he might as well act the part and straighten himself out. 

He knew that he was better than her, better than them all, and he let a modicum of that confidence seep into his posture. 

In response, Bayta grinned, squeezed his shoulder, and almost instinctively, the Mule reached out to her mind with the tendrils of his. 

Ah. It is pity, then, that motivates her.

It should have chafed, knowing that she condescended to him – knowing he was three years her senior, knowing who, what he was. Instead, his breath hitched, and he felt a thrill run through him. 

Could he take it? Could he accept whatever she had to give him, and stay?

No — no! With only a slight twitch of his shoulders to betray him, he banished the thought, and turned to focus on the matter at hand. What truly mattered. 

The lights dimmed further in the room, until all everyone could see was the empty glass cubicle at its centre.

The Mule took it all in; the excitement of the gathered crowd, their nervous anticipation, and of course, the seeds of doubt and dread so carefully sown over his weeks on Terminus. It would all be over soon… he only had to wait for the right time. 

And just then, the hologram of Hari Seldon materialised. 

With everyone’s anxious eyes turned to the old psychohistorian, the Mule finally allowed himself to smile. A small, hard smile that cracked the odd planes of his face, making it all the more grotesque – it was a mercy that the room had been plunged into darkness. 

Let the true performance begin.

-

In the end, it was easy. A well-timed swell of despair that he made ripple through the crowd, to the city beyond. An army – his army – that waited patiently at the gates for the sign to strike. A pulse from the ultra-wave sender he kept in his jester’s cap, activated when it became obvious that the old mathematician had gotten his predictions glaringly, disastrously wrong. 

And just like that, the Foundation crumbled. 

The Foundation was his.

The hologram in the Time Vault had long flickered out – whether due to the work of the Mule’s atomic disruptor, or the cannons from his warships, or simply because Hari Seldon had finished with what he had to say – no one knew, and no one cared. Not when the sound of warning sirens pealed all around them, when the Mule’s great black ships bombarded the harsh soils of Terminus. 

The crowd of once-respectable citizens surged around them, swarming for the exit (not that there was anywhere they could escape to, for the Mule’s territory encompassed all their neighbouring planets). For a time, Bayta and Toran had done nothing but sit there, stock-still among them all, as if in the eye of a hurricane. 

The Mule, too, allowed himself a moment to be still, to relish in that feeling of satisfaction, of utter superiority that came when he knew he had won.

At least, he had tried to. For there was something, now, that dampened that sense of victory ever-so-slightly. 

There was someone… 

He whipped his head around madly, until his brown eyes landed on Bayta.

Bayta – rooted to her seat in terror, fighting to keep a single tear from escaping her wide, hopeless eyes.

Despite himself, despite everything, a single, startling thought crossed his mind – ironically, making him freeze in horror from a source wholly different from the panicked crowds around him. 

Galaxy, what have I done?

It was Ebling Mis, that mad psychologist, who snapped them out of it. He hauled Bayta and Toran from their seats, and by the time his focus shifted to the Mule, he had slipped effortlessly back into character. 

“The Mule is coming for me!” 

Bayta tried to lay a hand on Magnifico’s shoulder, as she had done frequently in the past, but he batted it aside. That was a necessity, for he was sure that if she touched him, his resolve would shatter completely. 

Then, a resounding blow from Toran, and he let himself go limp.

-

Through the chaos that surrounded them, both on the streets and in the atmosphere above them, Bayta and Toran managed to reach their apartment. Panting, they slammed the door shut, and locked it behind them. It wouldn’t help, not against the Mule (they both knew that), but that afternoon, they found themselves willing to accept even the smallest semblance of safety and control over the alternative.

In the darkened house, Toran remained a flurry of motion. He shifted Magnifico off his shoulders, making his way to their study. 

The instant his feet touched the floor, Magnifico practically hurled himself into his favoured armchair by the couch, a trembling, huddled mass of bony limbs. Neither Toran nor Bayta seemed to pay him any mind. 

“We’ll need passports, credits, if we want to leave here by ship, try our luck on other planets in the system,” Toran muttered, rummaging through their drawers. 

“Torie.” Bayta said faintly. She was still standing at the threshold of their living room. 

“I have to get word out to my dad on Haven, too,” he continued. “The Traders need to know that the Foundation is under siege by the Mule, and to expect the worst.” 

Slowly, feeling as if she was moving through water, Bayta made her way to his side. 

“Don’t know if our tight beam transmitter works, but we may have a backup generator in the basement.“

“Torie, let me help,” she said. “You go see if you can get the power back up, I’ll get our things ready for if — when we have to leave.”

He turned to her, and finally registered her presence, or lack thereof; for in that moment, the woman who stood before him seemed to bear little resemblance to that self-assured, intelligent Bayta he’d first fallen in love with. “No, no, none of that,” he said, softening.  “You stay right here, with Magnifico. Make sure he doesn’t dash off to get caught by the Mule’s men. And… make sure that you’re alright, too.”

She began to protest, but the words died on her lips when Toran brought a single hand up to brush her dry cheek, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. 

Toran was right — that oppressive weight of terror and dread held her down, still. She needed to rest, to breathe, or she’d be of no help to anyone. 

With a sigh, she fell against him in an exhausted embrace, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you,” into his curly hair. 

Toran tightened his arms around her in wordless response. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and left. 

In his absence, the walls of their home seemed to expand impossibly around her, and Bayta could not help but feel utterly alone in the middle of it all. Alone, but for —

She slumped into the couch. Next to her, Magnifico perched on an armrest, as though ready and waiting to take flight at the slightest provocation. “Now don’t you go running off on me too,” she feebly joked. “Two men in a minute might set a record.”

As has become habit, The Mule had kept one eye on the couple, his mind alert for any sign that either of their suspicions regarding his true identity had been aroused. Always the guarded onlooker; observing others’ interactions through an invisible, impenetrable barrier. 

“Nay, my lady; for though the raging tempest I fear most has arrived at our shores, snapping at our very heels… I confess that I feel safer here , coward that I am. I – I will not run.” 

Magnifico’s fingers worried relentlessly at the threads of his ruffled collar, and Bayta caught them with her own, gently moving them to his lap. 

“Magnifico, I’m — I’m afraid, too,” she admitted, looking mortified as she heard herself say the words aloud. “My home is under siege. I don’t know how the Mule breached our atomic shields, but he’s here, now. Seldon, psychohistory… all of us had it wrong.”

The oddest impulse came over the Mule. A sudden, nearly overwhelming urge to stretch out a hand, and put it around her shoulders, echoing the gesture she’d shown so freely to him in the course of their acquaintance.

Ridiculous. It was he who was the source of her misery, and yet —

His hands twitched at his sides. He said nothing, frozen in indecision, until Bayta closed her eyes, took a shaky breath in, and let it out, slowly. 

That smile made its reappearance. Small and unsure, but there nevertheless. She shook her head slightly, and said, “But what am I saying… you have as much a reason to fear him as I do. More so, after everything he did to you. Are — are you well, Magnifico?”

Was he well? He did not recall the last time anyone had asked him that question, if at all. Still, he had to respond.

“My knees tremble and my heart hammers so against my poor chest, my lady, but…” He raised his eyes to meet hers, tried to mirror her smile with an upward twitch of his lips. “But as long as I am by your side, I feel sure that I will not come to harm.” 

And while you are with me, nothing and no one will touch you, he did not say. 

Bayta took his hand, and the Mule became aware of a strange sensation — a stabbing warmth in his chest. 

“That’s right. We’ll keep you safe, Toran and I. It’ll…” she hesitated, and her pinched expression relaxed, by just a touch. “It’ll be alright,” she said, almost more to herself than to him. “We’ll be alright.”

He gave in. Allowed himself to lean tentatively, questioningly against Bayta, and she rested her head on his shoulder in answer. 

Again, that squeezing of his ribcage.

And again, that dreadful, unwanted thought. 

What have I done?

He dared not move, or speak; in that instant, he found himself unable to look at her at all.

And it was there, against his thin shoulder, curled up on the couch, where Bayta eventually fell asleep. 

In the darkened living room, lit only by the occasional flashes of laser-fire from the warring ships overhead, he remained still against her. But the Mule’s mind — his mind raced.

Why, why that sudden moment of fear, of doubt? In the years after his mastery of the Visi-Sonor, and the art of manipulation of human emotion, he’d sworn not to regret a single atrocity he committed in vengeance against the galaxy. 

He closed his eyes against the onslaught of unwanted emotion. They were his puppets, his living dials, and he was master of them all. After twenty-two years of torment and isolation, with not a soul coming to his aid, wasn’t that justice? His power, a great cosmic compensation for his shortcomings – physical and otherwise?

Yes, power freed, and it addicted. For all his life, he’d been starved of it, and now, he had all that he would ever need. All of the Galaxy at his fingertips.

And yet –

Playful hands tussling his hair. Kind eyes, open in admiration as he plucked wild notes and dancing lights from the air. A weight and a warmth, asleep next to him. 

Was there something else, something more that he had missed? 

He wanted to growl in frustration, but reined himself in. Self-control, patience; if he had no redeeming qualities at all, at least he had these. 

It would have been better if I hadn’t approached them at all; better to have disregarded that couple on the beach entirely, and let Han Pritcher lead me to the Foundation instead.  

Even with his power, he could not change the past. But while psychohistorian he was not, at least his great mind could map out the near future with clarity.

On the eve of the Foundation’s surrender, there on the couch of the young, married couple, the Mule planned out his next steps – in accordance with Bayta’s wishes, he would stay on Terminus for now. To keep the Foundationers’ eyes off him; in case anyone suspected that there was more to the Mule’s clown, whose arrival heralded their civilization’s downfall. To uncover and destroy any plans for rebellion. To ensure that the atmosphere of despair he created remained absolute. 

To… to remain close to the Darells. 

To her.

For all his life, he’d been aware of the gaping hole in his being. He knew that something essential had been scooped out of him, and this – this difference , was what separated him from humanity. He’d attempted to fill it once, with music and performance in an attempt to make the crowds laugh with , not at, to gaze at him with respect instead of mockery. When that was not enough, and when he finally became aware of the power that set him apart, he turned to conquest. 

When all the Galaxy was united under his rule, when humans learned to respect his name so that he had nothing to fear from them ever again – then and only then would it be enough to fill that gaping pit inside of him.

A single hand ghosted lightly over Bayta’s troubled face, not quite touching her cheek, where a stray lock of hair had fallen loose. 

No, he thought, firmly. He had to purge the thought of her; that counterpoint impossible to adapt to, that confusing, frustrating improvised melody he was unable to underscore, the puppet that cut its strings entirely.

He knew what he had to do. And he knew that it would be enough.

It had to be.

[lets-talk-story]

Povodni mož: The Water Man

Though long for its beauties Ljubljana was known, Than Urska there never was any more fair, No maidens, no women were known anywhere In flow’ring allurement with her to compare – The star of the morning midst stars is most bright: So also did Urska midst girls most delight

Of maidens and women, both spinsters and wed, In private the eyes with hot tears would smart When he whom they loved gave to Urska his heart; But she had of suitors too few, for her part Once she of a much-vaunted youth was aware, she tried to entrap him in her open snare

She knew how to promise and how to refuse, And how to be amiable, how to be proud; The young she enticed, to the old smiles allowed; With talents and tricks she was fully endowed; For long she kept men eating out of her hand, But met one at last whom she could not withstand

One afternoon, Sunday, the Old Market Square: The trumpets and fiddles and zithers all played, From all of Ljubljana, lo, every fair maid Lightheartedly danced in the linden tree’s shade; Among them queen Urska the beautiful reigned: For long she to join in the dancing disdained

Though many invite, she rejects everyone, She snubs their entreaties and proud is her glance, With new-found excuses refusing to dance; The sun is now setting, the shadows advance, Already the seventh hour fully has passed When Urska decides to start dancing at last

But when she in search of a partner looks around A youth by a small yellow table she spies; No stalwart his equal is there ‘neath the skies, To dance with him ev’ry girl highly would prize. – Fair Urska, desiring a catch with her hook, Directs on him, as though enamoured, a look.

This seeing the young man approaches the maid: “Do you wish to dance?” – for he has the first word – “Where Sava’s swift waters with Danube’s are stirred This morning I first of your great beauty heard, Already, fair Urska, we two are well met, Already, fair Urska, to dance I am set!”

He speaks and in front of her deeply he bows, Fair Urska bestows upon him a sweet smile: “I have not a single step danced yet awhile, For you I’ve been waiting, I’ll say without guile; So come, waste no time now, just give me your hand, The sun’s going down and the dance soon will end!”

The handsome young man now gives Urska his hand, And swiftly the pair round the dance-floor take flight As if each is borne on two wings feather-light, Their spinning around’s an ethereal sight; It cannot be seen if they touch the ground, As swept by a whirlwind they dance round and round

In awe, the musicians now play not a sound, On seeing this sight all the bystanders stare; And, hearing the trumpeters no longer blare, The youth loudly stamps and they hear him declare: “I care not a whit for the fiddle and bass Let others strings sound when I’m dancing apace!”

Apace have come rushing black lowering clouds, They hear in the sky fearful thunder resound, They hear how the winds grimly whistle around, They hear rushing rivulets noisily pound, And all of those there feel their hair stand on end – O Urska, fair Urska, such woes now impend!

“Fear not, fairest Urska, just keep well in step! Fear not,” he declares, “if the thunder resounds, Fear not that the water so noisily pounds Fear not the strong winds with their whistling sounds; Just speedily, speedily make your feet haste, Just speedily, quickly, there’s no time to waste.”

“I must have a rest now, I’m quite out of breath! Let’s stop for a little, kind dancer, my dear!” “The white land of Turkey is not at all near, Where Danuble is met by the Sava so clear, The deafening waters are waiting to greet You, Urska! so quickly keep moving your feet!”

He spoke, and they danced on more rapidly yet, Away from the dance floor and further they whirled, Beside the Ljubljanica thrice round they swirled, Still dancing, they ‘neath the loud waters were hurled. A whirlpool was seen from their boats by some men, But nobody ever saw Urska again.

- France Prešeren, 1826

[clovemerablog]

Beabadoobee album review: “This Is How Tomorrow Moves"

The decisions made through Beabadoobee’s third studio record both play to its strengths and hamper its own excellence as a cohesive project. 

Review by Clove Mera, 03 September 2024

Album released 09 August 2024

Dirty Hit

Usually I review artists who I’ve been a fan of many years, but that comes with a clear bias. As someone trying to write reviews and not necessarily analytical celebrations, I wanted to listen to something which I had no biases for or against. This lead me to the Browse section in Apple Music, where I’d go perusing newly released music. The first I saw of This Is How Tomorrow Moves was the album cover, which certainly piqued my interest. I’d never heard a Beabadoobee song before, I knew the artist in name only. I chose this album to review with zero expectations, and what I received was a mixed bag. 

We begin the album with Take a Bite. Energetic vocal melodies and rolling drums combined with wet guitar harken back to nineties/ oughties indie rock. Followed by California, another up tempo indie rock record, Beabadoobee starts the album strong.

In Real Man, I endured swing in the verse vocals and tediously drawn out delivery in the chorus, all atop a stop start guitar melody. Overall, the pace was wildly inconsistent with choices that grate against my own sensibilities rooted too deep in the song to overlook. 

This record’s pace had become a trudge through fondant by the time Tie My Shoes plays. The song, which is seemingly about her relationship with her father, is in fact a lesson in crafting a deeply compelling downtempo song - one I wish was applied throughout the album. Its arpeggiated guitar gives a laid back and tranquil sensation, one I enjoyed through the song’s long musical sections. Side note, songs built on a simple guitar loop can be tremendously powerful, see Hurt by the late Johnny Cash, for example. 

Just like the two aforementioned songs, Ever Seen began with the threat of yet another tediously slow song, and until halfway through I thought this was my fate. Thankfully the song shifts gears halfway through, and the album switches palettes. 

This album’s strength lies in its throwbacks to oughties shoegaze, as Post does with its acoustic drums and guitar. Another source of entertainment for me came in the occasional inclusion of out-of-left-field musical choices. There’s a wiry effect before the “He Said/ He Said” refrain in Post and without warning, Coming Home features a short Spanish trumpet section. In any project, subversive musical choices such as these cause my ears to prick up, eagerly awaiting where the curveball will go next.

Earlier I said Tie My Shoes was allegedly about a paternal relationship. Why “allegedly?” Usually my reviews touch on lyrics, why is that not the case this time? Throughout the duration of this project, Beabadoobee’s diction was such I found it near impossible to interpret her words. I’d made the choice to purely listen to this album. No lyrics, only audio. This severely impacted on my ability to receive the album’s meaning. Whatever heartfelt lyrics may have featured throughout this album were mired by unintelligible diction, further mired by poor mixing. In Coming Home, I caught a fleck of the beginning and at the end, I got “I’d sure make a movie/ before planning what to say”. With everything in between lost, I had no clue what that phrase meant. I only discovered the meaning of Tie My Shoes for the sake of this review.

I had no knowledge of Beabadoobee before listening to this album other than occasionally seeing her name on the internet. I came to this project ready for a positive impression and even possibly a few new songs to play nonstop. Although there were lots of good elements to this project, there was a lot of mediocrity in between. I hope Beabadoobee contributed lots more than her voice and her words to This Is How Tomorrow Moves, otherwise I’d say her producer(s)’ work carried the album. The first two songs set an expectation of enjoyable head bopping rock music, but the project defaulted on its own promise with numerous tracks which could soundtrack the sensation of being shot with a tranquilliser dart - and I’m not talking about ketamine. This Is How Tomorrow Moves is an experimental album with variety in its offerings, ranging from high energy rock songs with very complex and enjoyable musicality to pared back ballads, and a few delightful out of left field choices which I always enjoy.

This Is How Tomorrow Moves is available to stream now, Beabadoobee’s latest single “Beaches” is linked below:

[uj453]

no wonder cage did 4’33” 

3/12/2018 

0 Comments 

about a hundred musicians, one conductor, and compositions by some classics...

i have never understood how musicians do it. play to the tunes of others. of what kind of commitment that is needed by the percussionist to wait for their turn to bang the symbals. and wait they do. they sit, they text or whatever people do on their smartphones, take out the score of the next composition and wait they do. for the time to hammer the instrument that makes sound like a church bell. for the triangle, for the harp. all to create a beautiful ensemble of sounds, that sounds like music. music as we know it, the classics, that one has heard in one form or the other. in all it’s poise, in all it��s predictablity, of rhythm, of harmony. with it’s full effect and force.

standing there at the door of the hall, a hall which was just large enough to have the about hundred musicians (of course the viennese architecture with its really high ceilings and so on help), i was standing right next to the percussions, couldn’t help but think of that beautiful film in which we only see the drummer of the orchestra who is dozing off, looking into the camera, and so on, but continues playing (how do i not remember the name of the film). the conductor in all his glory of being the conductor, with his wand, was swaying away for the music. I guess considering the orchestra was mostly of very young people, also not taking himself too seriously, and being soft, friendly and funny, was still listening to the notes that he needed to.

isit the same thing, being in a film crew as in being in the orchestra? if so, then i kind of get it. but film shoots @re so shitty, so dirty, so ugly, whereas this right here was beauty, in all it’s conventional understanding beauty, thing that will emotionally move you, and take you to with its musical curve, where it’s going.

what was missed by most in the hall, also because they were part of it i guess, is the endings of each of the compositions. and the gaps in between the plays. most of the compositions designed in a way, that it ends with a high, for applause. i could hear the applause, almost as part of the composition. But they never happened. It was a rehearsal after all.and there were sounds of relief, sounds of people losing the poised positions, keeping their instruments down, putting on the new composition, but of course sound of the conductor telling them their next thing, correcting what needed to be, and so on. but that right then was what made it so real, so out of the musical bubble that was being created. no wonder cage thought of 4’33”.

i never knew harp was so beautiful. to see those things there, and imagining them being carried in, brought in, was all lost when it was being played in all it’s heavenliness (cliche yeah, but that’s how the idea of heaven is conditioned in, so well...)

it is all about the timing. which instruments get in at what point, and what loudness and so on. to some extent, i do understand what and why there’s so much tall about cage and the composition of 4’33”.

i wish the conductor spoke more english. he was quite fluent in it, but i think because most musicians were germans, german made more sense. maybe it was also nice to not know what he was saying. the musicians all had the music notes and so on, as the common language. at one point, half an hour two of them walked in with plastic bags and were unabashed (to my surprise) at arriving late. they had actually got stands for notes, for people who didn’t have it already. post that composition, many went and picked one up, getting access to the notes. even as the trumpet man was making marks of highs and lows on his. having stood there for about a couple of hours ‘observing’ (and with so many filmic ideas) stepping out, i could hear better. the sounds of the tram, of that roads, of the footsteps, and so on. no wonder cage did 4’33”.

thanks Emily (my former flatmate who is a cellist in the ensemble and told me about the rehearsal)

leaving with this image of cage’s composition of 4’33”.

[dizzydeadeye]

undefined

pienso

[dirt-grub]

nothing makes me happier than those random videos my youtube recommends me of street performers and strangers making bomb ass music together i wish i was talented enough to freestyle and shit because like i think id reach nirvana if i could have that

[monsterlover48]

Part 1: The Meeting

<<Masterlist>> <<Previous>> <<Next>>

Bodyguard!Orc x Princess!Reader

Summary: Y/N, the princess of Evermore, the beauty of the west. She had many suitors, many men, and women who wanted her by their side. Too bad her eyes were already set the day he came to save her life.

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks (sorta), medieval fighting

~~~ Princess Y/N was a kind soul. Always tended to her princess duties and went out of her way to give to the lower class. Everyone loved her, and they knew she would be a wonderful queen.

When word got out about the attempted assassination, the people were outraged that someone would dare hurt their beloved princess. Y/N Could still feel the man's glove-clad hand grasp her face to silence her screams every time she closed her eyes, and she didn't know how to get the image out of her head.

The morning breeze soothed her warm skin as she walked outside and into the growing gardens of her castle. The beautiful greens of the grass and plants paired with the myriad of colours that decorated the flowers set the frantic princess' mind at ease. She had one hell of a night, and it took hours for her to get a good night's rest. Her mind was plagued with nightmares of her death and the death of her people. She just wished it wouldn't come true.

Y/N had worn a lilac dress that morning, lace on the sleeves, and a large bow on the back. It was her favorite, and she wanted to wear it to bring up her mood. She didn't want anyone to see the wound on her arm, but the bulk of the bandages showed through her frilly sleeves.

"M'lady. The king requests you." Y/N handmaiden, Cassandra, spoke quietly, breaking the serenity of the garden. The princess's shoulders deflated, and she hung her head low before she smiled at her friend.

"Do you know what about?" She asked, linking her good arm with Cassandra's. The maiden giggled and shook her head playfully.

"Your knight is coming to protect you. They're having a contest to see who could protect you the best." Cassandra grinned. Y/N's cheeks flushed, and she gasped.

"Today? Do I look alright?" The woman began to unnecessarily judge herself, muttering curses of how she should have done her hair better.

"You look fine." Cassandra giggled. They walked down the large corridor and through the guards that stood straighter at the sight of their princess. Y/N nodded and bowed to everyone she passed politely, a smile stuck on her face in her princess facade.

"Daughter, you took long enough." Her father playfully scolded, holding a hand out to help her into the royal chair. They were in the courtyard where entertainers, fighters, or jousters came to do their thing.

As Y/N looked amongst the crowd, she saw many creatures in knight armor. Ranging from tieflings to humans. But one she hadn't seen before, someone massive in size. It was well known that Evermore was more of the accepting kind when it came to other races, but not many creatures of that size came to the lovely kingdom. And they were all fighting for her favor as a personal guard. She felt as though the taller one would win. She couldn't see his face or even his skin to tell what he could be, but she didn't care. The princess didn't necessarily want a personal guard, but if she was to get one, she wanted it to be someone who could truly protect her life.

"Which do you think would win, princess?" A voice asked behind her. Y/N turned to see a man she's never met before. He was handsome; bright blue eyes and dark brown hair with chiseled features, but she wasn't too interested. He smiled at her with an attempt to be charming, but she knew the play.

"The tall one." She replied, pointing towards the looming figure as he practiced by his lonesome.

"Ah yes, that one. He seems pretty strong." He chuckled, and Y/N realized he had an accent that wasn't from Evermore.

"What's your name?" Y/N asked curiously. However, before he could respond, the tournament speaker began his speech about the rules and how the tournament would go.

The trumpets sounded, and two knights stepped up before they began to fight. Swords clashing and metal banging sounded around the courtyard, and Y/N was on the edge of her seat every time a knight fell. She hoped they weren't too injured, but she had to admit, it was interesting to watch them fight.

By the time the last two were up, it was two large men, clad head to toe in thick armor, but Y/N noticed the one she kept her eyes on. The tall one with bulging muscles. She bit her lip as they started, gasping when the clashing of swords and their blasts against armor. But ultimately, she was correct; the tall one was the champion. The crowd cheered loudly as the last man fell, and the tall man roared triumphantly.

The princess stood from her place and straightened out the skirt of her dress. Everyone gasped when the creature took off his helmet, revealing an orc to be the champion. Orcs used to be the villains of Evermore's story, but the war had ended, and they were at peace. However, that doesn't mean many orcs came into Evermore and never came to protect their princess. Y/N looked around at the shocked faces of her people and squared her shoulders before she walked out of the royal seating and to the courtyard where the champion stood.

Everyone watched their princess with wary eyes and shifted in their seats as she approached him. The closer she looked, he was taller than she expected. Thrice her size, and he had a scowl upon his handsome features. His skin was a pale green, and he had large tusks sticking out from his mouth. His mean stare didn't detour the princess as she smiled and bowed politely to the knight.

"It seems you have won. What is your name?" She asked, clasping her hand behind her back. He huffed a piece of stray black hair away from his eyes, the long strands reaching past his shoulders. He bowed to her when she walked closer, propping his arm onto his knee.

"Rhudrak Fang Cracker." He replied. His voice was gruff, as though he had gargled rocks before he spoke.

"Well, Rhudrak Fang Cracker. It is nice to meet you. I will be happy to work with you." The crowd cheered then, the piercing noise almost startling the princess. She turned to look at the crowd before looking back at her knight.

"Yes! This man is my daughter's champion. The one who will protect her with his life. Do you agree?" Her father asked, walking into the courtyard as well. Her father was a very accepting man, and no matter the fact that he witnessed orcs kill many of his people, he would never discriminate against a man who wanted to protect his only daughter.

"I agree," Rhudrak responded. King Gustus nodded, and Y/N smiled at the crowd as the royal family plus the knight and other guards walked back to the castle. Y/N couldn't help but steal glances at the steely man. She found it very interesting that an orc would want to protect her. And he looked so mysterious. She just wandered-

"Y/N, dearest." Her mother scolded. Y/N tore her eyes away from her knight with warm cheeks and turned to her mother.

"Yes, mother?" She asked. Meira shook her head disapprovingly and continued walking.

"Your father was talking to you." She hissed. Y/N bowed her head in embarrassment, and she could've sworn she saw a ghost of a smile on her Rhudrak's face.

"While you were in your fantasy land, I was discussing the rules of your supervisor and how you must act." He told her with a kind and understanding smile. Y/N was very close to her father, and she was glad to have him understand how easy it was for her to get lost in the clouds. Unlike her strict mother.

"What are his rules?"

"No. Your rules." Her father corrected. Y/N gasped and choked on her spit before she looked at the people in front of her.

"What do you mean 'my' rules?" Y/N asked incredulously.

"You are not to leave the sight of Rhudrak. The only time you will be alone is when in your chambers, safe. You will do what he asks of you. If he tells you to run, to hide, or even to walk, you do it. He is there to protect you; let him do his job. No running around the halls in the middle of the nights anymore. People are after you, my dear, and I couldn't stand losing you. It almost happened once, and I will not let it happen again." Her father told her. She wanted to roll her eyes, to pout and say 'not fair.' But she almost died that night. The visions still haunt her in her sleep and even during the day. She knew if she wanted to survive, she must do what her father asks of her.

"Yes, father." She replied solemnly, all traces of humor gone from the conversation.

"Now go make yourselves acquainted while showing him his room. It's the one next to yours." Y/N nodded and looked at her parents awkwardly as they walked away.

"Your room is this way on the third floor," Y/N spoke. She was exhausted from the excitement of the day and had zero social energy, but she knew she had to do it anyways.

"Third floor? How do you even get upstairs with those tiny shoes on?" Rhudrak chuckled. Y/N hid her giggle behind her hand and shook her head as they approached the stairway.

"With difficulty. Try walking around hours a day with a corset on." She scoffed. Rhudrak laughed loudly but quickly quieted down.

"Tell me about the night of your attack." He asked suddenly. Y/N was taken aback by the sudden question as they walked up the many stairs.

"Well... I couldn't sleep. I think that's the only reason I'm alive right now. He wore a black mask with strange symbols on it. He was human-sized. That's all remember." She said. She was lying of course. She could remember so much more. The blue of his eyes and the stench of leather as his hand clamped down onto her mouth. She couldn't breathe when he sat on her. She felt hopeless and the gleam of the moonlight on his blade made her shiver with unease.

"Princess?" Rhudrak asked gently, looking at her with a thoughtful gaze. She snapped out of her wandering thoughts and shook her head with a smile.

"Well, here you are. My chambers are right here. I'll let you get settled in." She said with a bow, walking back to her room. She shut the door gently and allowed herself to break slightly at the memory of her attack, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks.

Taglist!

@vanta-monsters @inosh-k @sylum

[babybluebex]

vanilla sponge [bucky barnes x reader]

➽ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 5.5k ➽ summary: the four times bucky said goodbye and the one time he said hello  ➽ warnings: explicit language, mentions of death, ANGST, eventual happy ending ➽ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BONK!!!! i meant for this to be a fluff blurb but it.... evolved lol. thanks @groupieforbucky​ for beta reading this! masterlist/taglist in bio!

March 10, 1935

You sat on the hood of the car, watching Bucky mess with a candle in front of you. His lighter wasn’t wanting to catch in the cold evening breeze, but he was adamant on lighting the candle up. “What’s the big deal with this candle, Buck?” you asked. “You’re just gonna blow it right out. You really want it that bad?”

Bucky scoffed at you. “Sweet, simple Y/N,” he chuckled. “It’s a tradition for me. My mom used to do it, so I have to.” 

You sighed softly, and you stretched your hands out in front of you. Bucky looked at you for a moment, his eyes sweeping over your frame, and he stepped closer. His large hips settled between your knees easily and he put his hands in yours, and you clicked your tongue. 

“No, you twit,” you giggled. “Gimme the damn lighter.” 

Bucky tilted his head at you and smiled, and he jumped up onto the hood of the car next to you. The two of you had driven out into the countryside for a night alone, just you and your Bucky on his birthday. You had even baked a cake-- you had been saving money for months to be able to afford all of the ingredients for his favorite vanilla sponge. The cake had sat in a box in the backseat of Bucky’s car as you two had walked along the riverside and splashed cold March water on each now, and now it sat next to you as you yourself were sat with Bucky’s jacket around your shoulders. James Barnes was a great guy, charming and cordial, turning 18 that day. He didn’t have much family besides you and your friend from school Steve Rogers, but, as Bucky often said, “You’re easier on the eyes than ol’ Stevie.” 

You lit the lighter with ease, shielding the little flame with your body, and you successfully lit the candle and stuck it into the top of the cake. “Make a wish, Buck,” you said, offering him the cake. “But you can’t tell me what it is, remember.” 

“Well, why not?” Bucky scoffed. “I wanna tell you what my wish is.”

“‘Cause it won’t come true, whacky,” you giggled. “Blow out your candle before it drips wax onto your cake.” 

Bucky looked at you for a long moment, his blue eyes reflecting the orange of the setting sun, and he finally rounded his pink lips and blew out the candle in one strong, swift breath. The smoke curled upwards and you plucked it out of the cake, and you smiled at the bit of white frosting that got on your finger. “Happy birthday, baby,” you said, swiping the tip of his nose with the frosting, and he laughed. “I hope it’s a good one.” 

“It’s the best one yet,” Bucky said. “Besides the inaugural one, of course.” 

“I wish I could’ve gotten you something more than a stupid cake,” you mumbled. 

“No, I love it,” Bucky insisted. “It’s really tasty; you worked hard on it.” With that, he scooped up the bit of frosting from his nose and offered his finger to you, and you licked up the frosting. 

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy it,” you replied, straightening your posture. “C’mon, eat up. My curfew is at nine.” 

Bucky began to eat the cake with his fingers, offering you bits every so often. The car radio was playing just loud enough for you two to hear, and, even with Bucky’s jacket, you found yourself scooting closer and closer to him. You loved him. This wasn’t typical puppy love. You could see yourself baking Bucky vanilla sponge cakes for years to come. Even though he always told you that there was no chance he’d be sent over, you imagined sending him a letter with the recipe so that, at the very least, he could think of you. 

Finally, the box was empty, and Bucky laid back onto the hod, sucking bits of crumbs from his fingers. “Thanks for that, doll,” he said, and you cuddled up into his side. His arms were behind his head, and you settled your head in his underarm. It smelled so much like him and was so ridiculously warm, and you melted into him fully. “I loved it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, and you pressed a chaste kiss to his arm. “I love this.”

“This?” Bucky asked. 

You shrugged and pressed your hand to his chest. “Just being here with you,” you said softly. “I never want it to end.”

Bucky sighed, and he leaned to kiss your head. “Me too,” he whispered. A few quiet moments passed, and you looked up to meet his eyes. “Can you promise me something, dollface?” 

“Anything,” you agreed. 

“We’ll spend every birthday together,” Bucky said. “Even if we’re apart, you’ll send me letters and all. I’ll do the same for your birthday too.” 

You nodded, and you clasped Bucky’s big hand in your little one. “Deal,” you whispered. “As long as I can make you cakes.” 

“I can’t bake worth shit,” Bucky chuckled. “You’ll have to teach me.” 

“I’d love to do that, Bucky,” you told him. 

March 10, 1942

“Look at you,” you cooed. “All gussied up. What’s the occasion, Sarge?” 

Bucky threw his arms around your waist and spun you around, earning him a squeal. He wore his dress uniform, his tie done perfectly and belt cinched around his jacket. His shoes were shiny and his hair gelled and combed, his face clean-shaven. He smelled like the aftershave you had gotten him for Christmas. There was an obvious occasion, and you figured that it was something more than his 25th birthday. “I wanted to take my dame out to dinner,” Bucky said, turning you so that your back pressed against his front. “Is that allowed, Mrs. Barnes?” 

You giggled as Bucky snuffled his mouth into your neck. “I guess so,” you huffed. “But it’s your birthday! I should be doing something for you!” 

“You let me have dessert for breakfast,” Bucky laughed. Then, he kissed your neck, and he added, “And then you gave me vanilla sponge cake afterwards. You’ve done plenty for me, doll.”

“But it’s usually tradition for the birthday-haver to be the guest of honor,” you said. “And for you to be pleased. It doesn’t make sense that you do all the work today. That’s not how birthdays work.” 

“Well, dollface, that’s why I joined the Army, remember?” Bucky laughed. “Wanna help people, all that business?” 

“I thought it was to get away from me,” you giggled. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Right, because I joined the Army to get away from you and immediately turned around and married you to keep you around,” he scoffed. “You’re not thinking right, woman. What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m still fuzzy from this morning,” you admitted. Bucky’s arms tightened around you and drew you closer into him, and he took a deep breath from your neck, taking in the smell of your perfume and the powder you had used on your face. “You broke my brain, you and your stupid tongue.” 

“And my lips,” Bucky added cheekily. “Don’t forget that.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” you said. “Trust me, I won’t ever forget that. But don’t you agree?”

“Christ, woman!” Bucky laughed. “Let me take you to dinner! Why’re you fighting this so hard?” 

“I’m not fighting it!” you said quickly. “I’m just saying that it’s not how it’s usually done!”

“Well, we don’t do things the usual way, do we?” Bucky laughed. “Anyway, I think I like this better. Any day I don’t shower you with my love is a wasted day.”

“You’re corny,” you laughed. 

“But you love it,” Bucky said, and you shrugged. 

“Tolerate, more like,” you said, and Bucky laughed. The doorbell rang, interrupting the moment, and you said, “Finish getting ready, I’ll be right back.” 

“Don’t take too long, dollface,” Bucky said, knocking your chin lightly with his finger. “I already miss you.” 

You wrestled yourself from Bucky’s grip and went to the door, and you opened it wide to see a man dressed like your Bucky. Older and stern, he struck a sense of fear and apprehension into you. “Is this the home of Sergeant James B. Barnes?” he asked in a thick voice. 

“Yes,” you replied. 

“Is Sergeant Barnes around?” the man asked. 

You swallowed thickly. You already knew what this man’s presence meant. You nodded quickly, stepping aside to let the man in, and you called, “Bucky, sweetheart! You’ve got a visitor!” 

“Is it Stevie?” Bucky called from the depths of the apartment.

“No, it’s…” you started. “Just come here, James.” 

Bucky appeared at light speed. You never called him James, not even on the day that you had gotten married. He was your Bucky. As soon as he spotted the Army man at your side, his body went rigid, and he gave the man a salute. “At ease, Sarge,” the older man said. “You two seem in good spirits.” 

“It’s…” Bucky began and cleared his throat. His stance relaxed, and his arm slid carefully around your waist. “It’s my birthday, sir. We were on our way to dinner.” 

“Might have to cancel that reservation,” the Army man rumbled. “The 107th is being called to Germany.” 

Your heart sank, and you couldn’t control the tears that stung your eyes. Bucky’s jaw flexed tightly as he absorbed the information, and he sighed heavily. “When do we leave?” he asked slowly. 

“In the morning,” Bucky’s superior said. “The planes ship out at oh-five-hundred.” 

Even under Bucky’s arm, the room felt cold. The trumpet on the radio sounded so distant, and you heard the two men having a conversation behind a veil of disbelief. Bucky had promised you that he wouldn’t get sent overseas. He said the 107th didn’t do that. He had promised you. He had fucking promised you. You broke out of his grip and escaped into the kitchen, and your gaze focused on the cake that sat on the counter. A piece was taken from it, the slice that you had allowed him for breakfast, and the cake itself was housed in a pretty glass cover that your mother had bought you as a wedding present. The candle was still stuck into the top of it, the tip burnt black and curled up. 

“Y/N,” you heard from the door, and you turned to see your husband. His face was pale, his blue eyes as dark as the ocean, and he chewed his bottom lip. “Doll, I--”

“There’s nothing you can say to make this better,” you whispered. “You have to go. It’s what it is. I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you.” You turned back quickly, sniffling and trying to hide your tears, and you added, “Your bag’s in the spare room. I think your nametag’s in the box in our closet, I can check if you need me to.” 

Suddenly, his strong arms were around you, holding you to his chest. Bucky didn’t say a word. The material of his dress uniform was itchy against your skin and you could only imagine what it felt like for him, and your knees buckled. The tears came, hot and burning your cheeks, and a sob wrecked your throat. “You promised me,” you whimpered. “You fucking promised me, you bastard! You said that the 107th doesn’t get sent over, you fucking lied to me!”

“I was trying to protect you!” Bucky said, his voice rising to match yours. “You would’ve made yourself sick with all your worrying about when I’d be sent overseas, and I didn’t want that for you!” 

You broke yourself from his grip, and you sniffled up your tears as best as you could. Even if your heart wasn’t crushed, you cried when you were angry, so tears were bound to happen no matter what. “So you lied to me instead?” you asked. “What the fuck’s the matter with you, Bucky? I’ve never lied to you, and I only expected the same from you; I didn’t expect for you to lie about something so fucking big! Jesus Christ, I can’t stand the sight of you.” 

“Doll, please, listen to me,” Bucky said, grabbing your arm. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

Bucky was bigger than you, taller than you, stronger than you. He had a tough skin and an even tougher heart from years of neglect and rejection. But you were his weakness. He cried when you did, laughed when you did, kissed you harder when you kissed him. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved you, but your heart burned with acidic hate. “Get out,” you said. “If you’re gonna leave in the morning, I don’t see why you need to stick around here any longer.” 

“Y/N!” Bucky cried. “Darling, please settle down!”

“If you’re so keen on leaving, then do it,” you said, wrenching your arm from his grip. “And don’t call me darling. Don’t call me doll, don’t call me nothing. You gave that up when you lied to me for years! Our entire relationship! You were already enlisted when we met! You have literally lied to me every day for seven years! What else are you lying to me about? What else are you keeping from me?” 

“Nothing!” Bucky said. “Christ, you need to settle down, please. I know you’re upset, but do you really think leaving things like this will make you feel better?”

“It’ll make me feel something,” you whispered. “Something other than missing you. Go stay with Steve or whatever, I just… I just don’t want to fall asleep next to you, and then wake up and not have you there. I… I wanna say goodbye.” 

Bucky took a tentative step towards you, then pulled you close to him. His eyes were watery as he looked at your face, and he swiped away your makeup with his thumb. He smiled wistfully, every single memory of you that he had shooting through his brain as quickly as they could manage, and he said, “Then don’t. I’m coming back, my love. I promise you. And I’m not keeping anything from you. All my cards are on the table here, doll. I’m coming back for you.” 

You two devised a plan. You and Bucky would go to bed, but he would wake you up when he did, and you would get a goodbye. You helped him pack his bag according to regulation, and you carefully slipped in a picture that your mother had taken on your wedding day. You sat in the middle, veil over your hair, flowers still fresh, with Steve Rogers next to you. You were about an inch taller than him in the picture, but you both were smiling. The bride and the best man. You knew that Bucky needed to be reminded of his brother as much as he was reminded of you. 

When the alarm rang shrilly in the morning, you watched from the bed as Bucky got up and dressed in his uniform. An olive green that complimented his skin, his boots tied around his ankle, and his silver dog tags buried under his collar. He turned to you, silent, crying, and he moved back to the bed. You still wore your nightgown, and Bucky took the lacy hem in his fingers and sighed. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered. 

Your arms went around his neck and tugged him in, and he buried his face in your neck. You caressed his head as he cried, and you tried to hug him as tightly as he had hugged you. “I’ll miss you more,” you whispered back. Your chest hurt with the urge to cry, but even the notion of it made you feel sick to your stomach. “I love you so much, Bucky.” 

“When I get home,” Bucky said. “I’m gonna hold you and never let you go.” 

“I’ll pencil it in,” you said through your tears.

As soon as the door shut, you pulled his pillow to your mouth, closed your teeth around it, and screamed. 

March 10, 1943

Steve’s heart ached as he looked at the door. It was a normal apartment door, a little plaque with the number on it, above a peephole, but there was a little green ribbon held to the door with scotch tape. Bucky’s place. He remembered when Bucky had told him that you and him had gotten a place in the city. He was excited and said that he couldn’t wait for Steve to come over and see it. But that was before Bucky got sent to Germany. Before Steve joined Project Rebirth, before… Everything. He would be surprised if you recognized him right away. 

He knocked on the door. There was a thumping from inside the apartment, and he heard your voice say, “Motherfucker…” before the door opened. You looked good. Your skin was glowing, your hair was done, and you were even wearing makeup. Steve had always known you as very put together, but you were Bucky’s wife. You were beautiful to him. Confusion was etched across your face, and you slowly said, “Can I help you, sir?” 

Steve slowly took off his uniform hat. “You’re Mrs. Barnes?” he said, even though he knew the answer. There was a protocol to follow. The Army allowing him to be the one to deliver the news was enough of a breach. 

“Yes,” you said carefully. “Can I inquire as to who’s asking?” 

Steve cleared his throat. “Captain Steven Rogers,” he began, and your mouth dropped into a shocked look. “With the United States Army.”

“Stevie!” you cried, and you threw yourself at him. You knew that he had finally managed to join the Army and that he was sent to Germany as well, but you hadn’t had any correspondence with him. Bucky had stopped answering your letters and, while you feared the worst, you tried to keep your anxiety at bay. There was a reason, one that didn’t involve Bucky dying. There had to be. “Oh my God! You’re so… Big! I mean, I heard about the whole Project Rebirth thing and saw pictures of you, but… You’re taller than me now!”

Steve gripped you tightly. “I missed you too, Y/N,” he said softly. “Can I come in?” 

“Of course!” you exclaimed. “I mean, it’s just me and Alpine, but you’re always welcome here, Stevie. Can I make you a drink? There’s some cake in the kitchen…” 

Steve distantly listened to your chatter as he stepped into the apartment. It was warm and smelled like vanilla, and the walls were a pleasant beige with pictures. An official picture of Bucky hung in a nice frame right by the door, and Steve smiled at his best friend. “Cake?” he repeated suddenly, processing your words. 

“Yeah!” you replied. “Buck’s favorite birthday cake. I’ve made it for him every year and, even though he’s in Germany right now, it didn’t feel right not to make it, ya know?” 

Steve carefully sat down at the little wooden table in the kitchen, and he watched a fluffy white cat jump up to meet him. You served him a slice of cake on a pretty china plate, and you sat and buried your chin in your palm. “So what’s going on with you? Did you just get back?”

Steve couldn’t even bear to look at the cake. “No,” he said. “I have to go back in the morning.” 

“Oh,” you said, and your heart sank. “Is everything alright?” You pulled Alpine into your grip and gently stroked her back, and you watched Steve’s gaze falter between you and the cake. “Steve. Is something wrong?” 

Steve sighed, and his big shoulders sank. “A few months ago, Bucky and other soldiers in the 107th Infantry were taken as POWs. I led a team and we managed to rescue them. But then Bucky joined a squad that I was a part of, The Howling Commandos. As part of a mission with the Howlies, Bucky was--” 

“Stop,” you hissed. You set Alpine aside and stood up, and you pressed your knuckles to your mouth. You knew it. You knew that Stevie was too good to be true. He was there to deliver bad news, the worst news for a military wife to be told. You sighed and hung your head, and you whispered, “Is there a body, at least?” 

The chair creaked as Steve stood up, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “We couldn’t locate one,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You sniffled. “An empty casket,” you mumbled. “An empty home, empty promises… Steve. Is there any hope that he’s alive? Even, like, infinitesimal? Even one percent?” 

Steve shook his head, blond bangs falling onto his forehead. “He fell from a train, Y/N,” he said carefully. “We couldn’t recover a body. If he is alive, then… I think that would be worse. I’m so sorry, Y/N.” 

Your legs felt weak, and you braced yourself on the table. Bucky was dead. Your greatest fear had been realized. “What do we do, Stevie?” you whispered. 

“We?” Steve asked. 

“He was your brother,” you said softly. “He had you when he had nobody else. I think you’re more important to him than me.”

“That’s not true,” Steve said simply. “I chose him, but he chose you. He chose you to live the rest of his life with. He was stuck with me.” 

You felt like a ghost as you walked into the living room and sat on the floor. You stared at everything, letting the silence gather around you. The coffee table was still crooked from where Bucky had last sat on the couch; his legs were longer and he always pushed it back to rest his feet. You fussed at him about it, but you didn’t actually mind it all that much. His favorite record was still on the player, playing empty static from when it had ended and you hadn’t flipped it over. Alpine had made a nest out of blankets on the couch, and you tilted your head when you saw that one of them was one that Bucky had made you. He was rather adept at knitting and had made it with yarn he had smuggled back to base, and it came in a package postmarked from Germany. You had referred to it as Bucky’s German blanket, but it was soft and smelled like him. You imagined him sleeping with the unfinished scraps every night. He was gone. He wouldn’t ever put his feet on the coffee table again. He wouldn’t ever get up with a grunt to flip his record and sweep you into his arms and dance with you. 

Steve came to sit next to you, and he put a heavy arm over your shoulders. “I managed to nab this from his stuff,” he began, clasping his hand with yours. “Figured you’d want it. He took it off before missions because he said he didn’t want it to get messed up, and it stayed with his bag. It takes forever to out-process a soldier’s personal belongings, and I… I knew you’d want it sooner rather than later.” 

A gold ring. The one you had put on Bucky’s finger that day. The wedding was beautiful for what it was. It wasn’t big by any means, just you and Bucky, Steve, and your mother. Your mother provided the veil and Bucky the rings, and Steve had picked a few flowers from his neighbors’ garden box. You had elected to get married at the courthouse rather than a church, and you remembered Bucky being flushed and giggling the entire time. You still wore your gold rings; you never took them off. 

You grasped Steve’s hand and gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, Stevie,” you whispered, and your tears finally fell. “It means a lot.” 

“You’ll see him again,” Steve told you. “I know you will.” 

You sighed and held the ring tightly in your palm. “I hope so.” 

March 10, 2023

The breeze was cold as it drifted off of the lake, and Bucky nestled further into his jacket. He was sure there was some level of impropriety to wearing a leather jacket to a funeral, but it was a last minute thing. He didn’t want to come. He felt like he was disrespecting Tony by being there, but Steve had talked him into it. The jacket was the only black thing he owned that covered his arm. 

“You sure you wanna go?” Sam asked again, and Steve scoffed. “I mean… There’s so much here.” 

“You know that’s a lie,” Bucky laughed. “There’s nothing here for Stevie.” 

“Or Bucky,” Steve added. “We’re not from here, Wilson. Not really, anyway. We belong… Somewhere else. Sometime else.” 

Sam nodded slowly. He knew that it was true. Steve and Bucky were better off back in the 1940s. “Buck,” he started. “Just… Be good to her.” 

Bucky turned to Sam. “Who?” he asked, even though he knew exactly who Sam was talking about. He had never once mentioned his wife to Sam, and he knew that Steve wasn’t one to tell. Any artifact that Bucky had of you had been lost to Hydra or time, and the only concrete thing he had was a little newspaper clipping that he kept tucked away: your name, listed in the obituary section. You were nearly a hundred when you were dusted five years ago. Bucky had Washington DC the first chance he had and had hunted down your name on the memorial. Y/N Barnes. Two simple words that had the weight of the universe crashing down on Bucky’s shoulders. Apparently, you had never remarried. You never had children. You had lived as a social worker, helping kids in the system go to good homes, and Bucky knew that he had chosen a good one 88 years ago.

“You say a woman’s name when you sleep sometimes,” Sam said. “Y/N… That’s why you’re going back, right? To see her?”

Even the sound of your name brought a smile to Bucky’s tired face. “Who told you that you could talk to me about my love life?” he asked, even though he was laughing and smiling now. “We’re work partners, remember? We’re not friends.” 

“Right, right,” Sam laughed, kicking a rock with his boot. “Just don’t do anything stupid while you’re gone. Neither of you. I don’t trust the two of you together… All kinds of shenanigans.” 

Bucky smiled at Steve. “How can we?” he asked. 

“You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve said, throwing a smile to Sam. “Be good, Wilson. Maybe get a hobby.”

“I hear knitting’s pretty nice,” Bucky said, and he took Steve’s hand to assist in climbing onto the platform. 

“Or baking,” Steve added. 

“Oh, man, I could do with a slice of cake,” Bucky chuckled. 

“Give it ten minutes,” Steve said. “You’ll get your birthday cake.” 

“Whoa, birthday?” Sam said. “Is it your birthday, Buck?”

“Don’t answer that,” Bucky snapped. 

“Jerk,” Steve mumbled. 

“Punk.” 

The sound of the machinery began to whir, and Sam called, “Happy birthday, old man!” 

And they were gone. 

March 10, 1949

You flitted around the apartment, stepping quickly to avoid the little grey kittens all over the floor. As much as you tried to keep them corralled in one place, kittens did what they wanted. The sun coming through the window kept the kitchen floor warm, and Alpine and her babies were often found lounging on the warm tiles. 

“Christ above, Jefferson, look at the mess you’ve made!” you exclaimed, bending down and picking up the little kitten. Jefferson was the second of five kittens, and he was the most rambunctious of the group. He was the one to skitter around the apartment at three with a sudden zest for life and, as cute as it was, it made your sleep schedule hell. The little kitten had wet food all over his face, and you quickly wiped him clean with the corner of your dress. “Need to get you a bib, you little wild man.” 

The doorbell rang, and a firm knock landed on the door simultaneously. “Coming!” you called, then, quieter, you said to Jefferson, “They really wanna see me, huh?” 

You kept Jefferson under your arm as you traipsed to the door, and you knew that Monroe and Buren were right underfoot; they always were. You could hardly walk anywhere without the risk of smushing a kitten. You really needed to get started on adopting these fellas out, but something about being the crazy widowed cat lady at the end of the hall seemed to suit you. The knock came again, harder, threatening to bust the door in two, and you huffed in annoyance. “I said I’m coming!”

You opened the door and pushed Monroe and Buren away with your foot. Little escape artists, they were. “Can I help you?” you asked, looking up to the man that stood there. 

He was familiar, but so distant. He had long, dark hair tied back, wrinkles around his eyes from exhaustion, dark hair around his mouth. He was all muscle underneath a buttoned shirt, and your eyes canvassed the weird shining metallic sleeve over his left arm. His mouth was slightly open as he looked at you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Hello?” you asked, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Do you need anything?” 

“Y/N…” he started, and your body ran cold. “It… It’s you.” 

You quickly set Jefferson on the floor, and you closed the door behind you to prevent kittens from spilling into the hall. “James?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You… Are you real?” 

Bucky laughed lightly, and he took your hand. He looked down at it, still wearing your rings, and he laughed again. “Oh, dollface,” he whispered, and he put his hands on your face. You flinched away from the sting against your cheek, and Bucky quickly pulled his left hand away. “You’re as pretty as the day I left you.” 

“Buck…” you said softly. “I can’t even begin to… How? I was told that you… You died, Bucky. How are you here?” 

“I’ll tell you, doll,” Bucky said. “I’ll tell you everything.” 

Bucky looked around the apartment as he stepped in, his eyes skating in wonderment. “Looks the same,” he said softly. 

“I couldn’t bear to change it too much,” you said softly. “Oh, umm, the white cat’s named Alpine, and all the others…” You gestured to the kittens littered around the room. “Jefferson, Monroe, Buren, Polk, and Pierce… I can’t tell them apart, really. Jefferson is the energetic one, and Monroe and Buren are always underfoot, but the rest--”

Bucky kissed you. You melted into his body, the way you always had, and you tugged him close by his hair and kissed back. You had missed him. Seven years was a hell of a long time to miss someone. You had almost forgotten the feel of his body against yours. He smelled just like himself, sounded like himself, and looked like himself (maybe a bit worse for wear than the last time you saw him, actually). “Bucky,” you whispered, and his arm went around your waist and pulled you against him even closer. His touch and grip was rougher than before, but that was war, you supposed. “Bucky, I just--”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry, doll. I got here as fast as I could.”

“I don’t need an excuse, love,” you told him. You had forgotten the way he looked at you, his blue eyes gazing at you like you had fixed the stars in his likeness, and you felt like the silly little girl back in high school who had a crush on a senior. “I don’t need anything.”

“Just me,” Bucky whispered. 

“Just you,” you agreed. You sighed and kissed him again, and your heart swelled. Your Bucky was finally home. “Actually, I do wanna know about--”

“The arm?” Bucky asked. 

“The hair,” you finished, twirling a dark strand around your finger. “But, yeah, I’m curious about the arm too.” 

“It’s a long story,” Bucky sighed. 

“‘Long’ as in ‘there’s a lot of moving parts’?” you asked. 

“‘Long’ as in ‘I’ve waited for 81 years to get you back’,” Bucky said, and he pushed your hair behind your ear with a deft metal finger. “‘Long’ as in ‘I was kidnapped by Nazis and frozen for decades’. ‘Long’ as in I traveled back in time to get you’. ‘Long’ as in… Just fucking long, doll. It’s gonna take me a while to tell the story.” 

Your mind was whirling, and you pulled him down to the couch. “So, you fought Nazis and time to get to me?”

Bucky shrugged slowly. “I mean, that’s a vast oversimplification, but, essentially, yeah.” 

You smiled. “You’re gonna need to explain this real slow,” you laughed. “I’ve never been as smart as you.” 

The smile that you had coveted for years was back. “You’re selling yourself short there,” Bucky said. “You’re the best girl I know. You’re my best girl, ya know that? The only girl I’ve ever wanted.” 

After years of crying tears of sorrow, your tears were of happiness. You were smiling and laughing, kissing Bucky and tasting his own salty tears. “Happy birthday, Buck,” you whispered. 

“Did you make a cake?” Bucky asked. 

You nodded. “Of course. Your favorite: vanilla sponge.”

[thegremlincrowsnest]

Endeavor x Baker!Reader

CW: mild breeding kink, slight food kink at the end, FtM reader with a vagina, I am a himbo so my editing is on par at best

This is a new addition to my ongoing series: Linked Here

“Even tyrants have sweet tooths,” you said with a soft smile to Natsuo. He sat at the table behind you with the softest glare you’d ever seen, and asked -- very seriously -- if you were forced to come to their house to cook for his father, Enji. You were focused on piping the ladyfingers as close of an even layer as you could before baking them. The smooth trumpets and pianos of jazz filled the air along with the sweet aroma of your baking.

Putting them into the oven, you wiped your hands with a rag before tucking it into the side of your apron pocket. “Please feel free to try some of the samples! I promise I’ll have enough for the event tonight," you said with a wink. His cheeks turned a soft pink as he got up to try some of the lemon macaroons. Your ears perked up when you heard the front door open. Giant footsteps came towards the kitchen, and there stood the flame hero himself. Dressed in a black sweater and long coat, he gave you a small smile, greeting his son as well. Natsuo only glared before taking one more macaroon and patting your head gently before walking out.

The older man frowned softly before walking into the kitchen. You knew it was none of your business, so you kept working, thankful for the music to fill the quiet space to prevent it from getting too awkward. He tasted a few of the macaroons and other petit fours you made for tonight. Cheesecake squares, lemon tarts, chocolate tarts, and the like.

“What do you still need to make?” He asked as he looked around his kitchen. Noticing the small pile of dishes, he rolled up his sleeves and began to assist in cleaning as you started to whip the mascarpone.

“Well, I was going to make you a tiramisu. I still have time that you’ve got me here, so I decided to make you one as a thank you!” You said with a warm smile. His cheeks turned a dusty pink at the sight of you. You were smiling and humming softly to yourself as you worked. Enji could only grunt a response as he busied himself with cleaning. He couldn’t help but stare, however.

He admired how the pudge of your thighs looked through your shorts, your love handles being hugged by your top. Your apron, while a standard culinary one, looked intensely sexy in contrast to your outfit underneath. He had insisted you dress comfortably while you work since he couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it is cooking in a kitchen. A timer went off, and you went to take your ladyfingers out of the oven. Enji held his breath when he saw you bend over. The slight darker area of your inner thigh became visible, your shorts pressing against your pussy lips in a way where he knew you were aroused. But he kept his composure.

Finishing up the dishes, he asked, “Your partner must be spoiled with everything you cook.” He watched you out of the corner of his eye for your reaction.

Without missing a beat, you chuckled, saying “No, no partner here, just a free little raven.” Looking up at him, he could have sworn he saw a glimmer of mischief there. Your skin, reminiscing of a warm hazel fay in the golden glow of dawn, drew him in like a moth to a flame. He reached over to wipe off some flour from your cheek. Your skin felt warm under his touch; he smiled down at you as you looked up at him. You looked adorable in his kitchen, so small and soft. He could throw you around like it was nothing, but he couldn’t, not yet. “I guess I wouldn’t mind having a little house husband like you around my house,” he said with a smirk.

You chuckled, and without looking up, you said, “I’m sure I’d be round with your kids constantly, Mr. Todoroki.” Enji could only stare at your response, mentally fighting a boner cropping up at the idea of having you bred.

“I do want to thank you again for hiring me, Mr. Todoroki,” you said with that same soft smile. He could only return it, moving his hand back.

“You’re my favorite little baker; of course, I’d hire your services,” he responded.

“If there’s… anything I can do for you, Mr.Todoroki, please tell me.” You said as you placed a hand over his on the counter. You shifted closer and he noticed a refined subtle sweetness he’d never noticed before. You bat your lashes up at him, full lips pouting slightly up at the large hero. He couldn’t help his eyes from devouring your form. Your full cleavage peeked out deliciously from your apron and he let out a shaky breath. The music had taken a noticeably more seductive tone as he took your form in, fueling the growing tension between you two. “Be careful what you wish for, my dear,” he responded.

You could only smile as you looked down to the growing bulge in front of you back up to his face. “Well, you do own me for the next few hours, sir. You can do whatever you wish to me,” You said as you turned back to the tiramisu. He stood there for a moment, processing what you had said as you begin to layer the coffee-soaked ladyfingers with filling. He decided to test his luck; standing closer to you, he leaned down to your ear level. One hand placed on your back begins to slowly drift down as he asks questions about the cake and other treats. You preened as you explained what you’re doing, stuttering softly as you feel his hand dip underneath your shorts. He chuckled as your words started to slur a bit at the feeling of his fingers. “I’m barely grazing this cute little hole, and you’re already so wet,” he said as he slowly fingered your entrance. You braced yourself against the counter, pushing back slightly as he pulled down your shorts.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw your pussy. Wet, puffy, and delectable. Falling to his knees, he gripped your hips, as he pushed yourself against his face. He inhaled deeply, groaning as his senses were evaded by the smell of your arousal. His tongue lapped at your entrance, thumbs pulling apart your lips as he dove his tongue deeper into your entrance. You tried to muffle your moans, the feeling of his breathe brushing against your most sensitive area drove you insane. . He notices your knees shaking and maneuvers you around himself. Turning you around so your back is to the counter, he makes you hold up your apron. Moving one thick thigh onto his shoulder, he dove back in, making you keep eye contact with him as he began to finger your entrance. Your juices ran down his arm as he begins to stretch you out.

“Good boy, taking my fingers so well," he said. Turning his head, he bite down gently on your inner thigh, running his tongue over your skin. He couldn’t help but shiver, tasting your sweat. “Just as sweet…” He mumbles as he lifted your other leg over his shoulder. He pushed you back onto the counter, shoving aside empty bowls and dirty utensils.

“Seeing you laid out like this”, he growled. Stripping off your apron and shirt, he grabbed your breast, thumbing your large nipples; he licks his lips as he watches them harden. “Your body is so responsive. I wanted to try and take my time, but… you’re so delicious,” he groaned. You heave as you try to steady yourself; looking up at your boss, you reach out for him, making grabby hands. He chuckles as he leaned down, letting you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders as you kiss him deeply. Tasting faintly of the lemon macaroons you made as well as coffee. He smells deep, musky, and intoxicating; your eyes roll back as you moan into his kiss. The music was loud enough you were certain Natsuo couldn’t hear you two, but with how Enji was prepping you, that certainty waned. Breaking the kiss momentarily, he pulls back; unbuttoning his pants; he pulls out his cock. In seeing it you have a moment of panic at if it can fit or not. Thick and veiny, it stood tall at 10 in length; you felt yourself drool a the sight.

Enji chuckled at your response; gathering enough of your essence, he smeared it on his cock as you absentmindedly reached down and rubbed your clit to the sight. You both stood there for a moment, watching each other masturbate between heated kisses. “Please, Enji… fuck me,” you begged.

He groaned as you spread open your lips for him. He pushed the head of his cock against your entrance, gripping the back of your head so you can watch as his cock stretches you open. Your stomach rolled in on itself as Enji grips your stomach and love handles. Balls deep he ruts against you slightly, reveling in your soft mewls and whimpers. You look up at him, warm tinted eyes meeting his blue topaz, and he loses his last hold on control. Thrusting as fast as he can, his deep grunts mixed beautifully with the soft bass and saxophones. The song was loud and chaotic and Enji held you close as his thrusts held the same energy. His balls slapped against your ass as his hands pin your hips to the counter. His grunts and growls filled your ears as he picks you up, using both hands to hold you close, cupped under your ass, and gripping your flesh.

“You’re such a good boy, taking my cock so well nngh! Fuck, if you tighten up any more I’ll burst," he grunts as he turned around, leaning against the counter and thrusts up into you. Bouncing you on his cock he reached down and begins to play with your clit. Licking and sucking on your neck as you cum around his cock. He doesn’t slow down. Gripping your ass with both hands he used you as a fleshlight, fucking into your oversensitive cunt with glee as you beg for his cum. “What does my baby boy want?” He asked as he tilts your face to his.

“C-cum! want daddy’s cum!” You moaned out with a whine. He smiled, holding you down on him as he’s balls deep inside of you. He groaned lowly as his balls throb, pumping you with cum.

“Such a good boy, taking all that cum for me," he said as he rubbed your back, knowledgeable enough to not mess up your hair.

“Thankfully the party isn’t until later. I want to have some more fun with my personal baker. What do you think about that, baby boy?” He whispered into your ear. You only nod, a blissed out look on your face as your thighs shiver from being held apart for so long.

You could get used to this, being in his strong arms, thick cock snug in your cum filled entrance as the sounds of smooth jazz and the wafts of sweets circle around you. Now all you hope is your cum doesn’t drip into anything important. However, unbeknownst to you, the bowl of mascarpone filling had fallen in your tryst, and ass very conveniently underneath you both. Enji glanced down between you, And a smirk graced his features at the sight"

[bluesdesk]

I wrote a thing

My forst post on Ao3, a story I made for last week's weekly prompt on the LU discord server, Twilight amd Time bond °^°

I hope you like it ;^;

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35035612

If you like to read on tumblr, the story is under the cut:

WAKE UP

Summary: After what happened to Twilight, Time spends some time with him.

<<I'll stay with him. You two go and tell the others he's recovering>> ""But Time... he's not. You've just seen that!"" <<The others are fighting, Sky. They can't be distracted by this. No thoughts, no worries, just battle.>>

Sky and Wars look at each other, they know he's right. And they probably know the old man can't continue the battle. Other times, they would have firmly confirmed Time is the most serious of them all, but he also gets emotional when a close person is involved in things he would never want them to be. And everyone knows Twi is, in fact, the closest member of the group. Or at least he's been since that period at Lon Lon! Nobody knows what they talked about but they've been closer since then. They've been fishing together (and damn they have the same strategies and moves, Wars noticed), they've been practicing the same exact sword techniques, and Twi has learnt THAT FACE. ""He's like... Old Man junior... You know?"" Sky says, trying to bring some light in the sad atmosphere of the path he and Wars are taking to reach the group. But all Wars hears are his steps in the wet, muddy ground. "I wonder which excuse we'll tell the others at camp this night when they notice he hasn't recovered at all". ""Wars I actually... I think Time has some secrets he won't tell us. I think, I wish... No, I Believe that Twi will be better, if not ok, when we come back. If this doesn't happen I might have one solution but we'll need to go to my time, and only Hylia can decide... But still, Time will do something, in my optimistic opinion"" "You really talk a lot Sky" ---- <<You really like sleeping... I used to sleep a lot too. I just wish Navi was here to wake you up like she did with me that day>> Seeing him like that, lied down on the grass, slow breathing, is exhausting. His descendant, his pup. Time doesn't know what Twi thinks about him, but in fact, their relationship has grown stronger than "old man- distant relative", and it's always more like... Grandpa and grandson? No... better. He'd say it's really like father and son. Kinda funny, isn it? Time thinks. <<You said you saw a Skull Kid in the Lost woods. I wonder if they're as nice as the boy I knew, oh I haven't seen him in ages...>> His hand reaches his ocarina. It's cold, smooth, so good to hold. At the moment, they're in the forest, near the Lost Woods. He has really wanted to play a bit, with no one hearing. Twi, Twi will hear he thinks, but he remembers he said he knew the song, and liked to hear him sing. So, Time doesn't mind his presence. Or better, he wouldn't even mind if Twi woke up just to tell him this or that note is out of tune. And he plays Saria's song, quiet, then louder. As the music grows louder, he feels like someone is accompanying him in the background. It's definitely not Twi. It's... like a trumpet. -Link? It's you? IS IT REALLY YOU?! You came back!! He froze. That was the voice of his friend, the same, exact voice of the Skull Kid he used to play with as a kid, and even now when he has time. It's his friend, and it's walking towards the two heroes. It's definitely him. But... different. The Skull Kid doesn't wear any mask, instead he has symbols and lines painted with light colors on his face. He's standing, then he runs, he runs with open arms, crying of joy, jiggling a bit. -LITTLE LINK!! YOU BROUGHT LINK HOME!

As the kid is hugging Time, after explaining why he left the masks and chose paint instead long time ago, to be more similar to his favorite hero, the old man explains he's from the past, and in this era he's surely dead. He tells him what happened to Twi, and how he wants him to heal asap. But mostly, he asks how long can Skull Kids live, since centuries have passed, at least from what the rancher said. -CENTURIES? Why did Little Link tell you a lie?? A child betrays his Deku Tree! You disappeared... Like nothing... about 23 years ago! And I was so sad!! You made me cry!! <<What... What in Hylia's name are you talking about>> The music is echoing in the Sacred Groove. Nobody is playing anymore but the music is still growing louder, now it's perfectly listenable, flowing through holed stones, multiplying like the branches of the trees. The fairies are attracted and they're coming as soon as possible. An entire horde of fairies, all those amazing bright colors. Before the Skull Kid can reply, The fairies have all encircled the unconscious hero, each one giving their best, all their power. One time, two times, three times, the fairies dance around Twilight, as the little funny boy shouts - GO FAIRIES GO!! YOU CAN DO IT!! While bouncing on his tiptoes, his hands fist closed. He probably can't give the situation its right weight. There's just "Little Link" as he calls him, that's not "little" at all tbh, that's not well and that's being healed by the fairies. He doesn't know one fairy has already tried, he doesn't even notice Time has left. ---- Walking past some trees, still hearing that song like before, if not even louder, noisier, more frustrating. He wants it to just stop. He had already seen a fairy telling him Twi couldn't be healed with magic. What the fairies were doing now was just one useless try to make Skull Kid happy, to not tell him the truth, to let him live with the fantasy everything can be healed with magic. Magic isn't always good. He thinks he will teach his future children to live without magic. But... another thought is now in his mind. 23 years ago. Only 23 years. Twilight himself is 22. About 1 year before Twilight was born. He died. If what the kid said is true... this also means... "A child betrays his Deku Tree" He needs to see Twilight now! He needs to see him alive and lively and ask him if that's true! He needs to go back and wake him up! He needs... he needs... He can't. He can't see the fairies going away, sad and tired, with nothing done. He can't see him breathing slower and slower. He needs to go away, find a real medic, he needs to solve this problem, he just... -YOU DID IT!! HE'S BACK!! THE LITTLE BOY IS BACK!! TATL, TAEL, I ADORE YOU!! <<Tatl? Tael??>> Time asks himself. The two leave the group of happy, celebrating fairies and reach him. The elder hero thinks it's his mind, it's a prank his mind is making. But the little ones reach him, and bring him back to reality. '''We know dark magic! We've been knowing it since Termina!''' ''We know how it works! We could recognize what's making Little Link ill!" '''He'll soon be awake! But he needs rest!''' ''And it's thanks to our adventure in Termina!'' <<You... You two are fine....>> '''You better run and check on him, he seems a little lost! He's looking for something we guess you have!''' ''We can feel dark magic coming from your bag! What's that? What's it?'' No time to answer, the hero runs faster than he has ever done. Leaning against the same tree, sat in the same way, but with lots of fairies around him, and finally conscious lays Twilight. His nose still bleeds, his injuries are still there, but he's awake, smiling, and Skull Kid is jumping all around him to manifest his happiness. But as soon as he sees Time coming, the boy walks away to let the two reunite. <<Hey, pup! Are you looking for this?>> Time hands him the pendant, carefully not touching the dark crystal, and Twilight takes it, but gives it back to Time a moment later. <I... don't want to wear it now, I just... wanted to be sure it's here> He looks at his

wounds, and then back to Time, and in his sad, tired, exhausted face a small smile can be seen. <I won't want magic.... especially dark magic... for the next 2 weeks... at least.> Time sits next to him. It's finally time to have a well deserved rest, before reaching the others at camp. The battle must have been finished already, and they're probably be worried sick. <<You won't have to use it, as much as you must not fight until you fully recover, or my signature face will be worse than Termina's moon!>> The Skull Kid starts jiggling, and even Time and Twilight after him. <Old Man... you're really the Dad... of the group> Twi says trying to hide the fact he's still all aching and exhausted and showing a smile instead. He's happy, or more like relieved he's safe and the others don't have a loss to bear. <<About that, Pup. Our friendly Skull Kid here... that happens to be the same I met as a kid... said we aren't centuries apart. Has he travelled in time too, or is he telling lies?>> -Little Link is telling lies! <I guess... it's time to reveal some secrets... about my backstory... Let's start from the beginnings...> ---- Some time later, at about midnight, after the Skull Kid and the fairies are gone, Sky and Wars run towards that tree. All covered in mud, they're tired too, and with some scratches, nothing a potion can't heal though. Fi is there with Sky, held in the left hand as he cleans it with the right hand while walking. Wars has his scarf covering part of his face, not for wounds or the strangely cold night, but fear. Will he find Twi awake? Will he find him... dead?? He doesn't really want to see, Sky is stronger in at this kind of things. Both their faces light up when they see both Time and Twi there, laid down, against that famous tree, both consciously resting, both with smiles printed on their faces, Twi's head leaning on Time's left shoulder, and Time's left hand on Twi's left shoulder. A feeling of peace and relax comes from a sleeping Twi, while... is that a tear, coming from Time's closed eyes? "Sky, Sky is that a tear of joy I see from Time??" ""I think so, and I told you he would make something! Now... should we let them rest, or wake the up and bring them back to camp?"" "Camp, definitely. We have a campfire, blankets, tents, and food. They will need food." ""Ok, I'll go wake Time up so we can get info on Twi's health"" Sky slowly and silently shakes Time's free shoulder, he slowly opens his eye, not even trying to hide the huge smile he has. Sky whispers, to let Twi rest. " "Time, we need to bring you back to camp. Is Twilight ok? Or maybe... just better? How are things going?"" <<I... Sky...>> another tear of joy comes from the slightly open eye. <<He's better, not ready to fight but better, and...>> Being sure Wars can't hear, as he feels like Sky is the best at keeping secrets, he whispers. <<He's better, and he's... he's actually my son Sky,>> As Sky, still whispering, adds: ""Now I can reveal you, I know, I've known for weeks now, since Lon Lon. Twi was so happy, so full of joy for your words that he couldn't just hide it all"" <<And I swear, since that day, I've been even prouder>>

[bobataeminsuga]

everyone's talking about music in your asks so i wanna know what your music hcs are for the genshin boys 👉👈

anon im so sorry for taking so long to reply but i really thought about it... and this is the first time ive ever made like a list of hcs so bear with me

i didnt know whether you meant hcs for the type of music they listened to or like them as musicians so i kinda did both

Genshin boy’s music headcannons under the cut!!

characters: kaeya, diluc, venti, albedo, bennett, razor, xingqiu, chongyun, zhongli, childe, xiao, scaramouche, aether, dainsleif

kaeya:

I get big sweater weather by the neighbourhood vibes from him

bi icon i guess

He loves the neighbourhood

Daddy issues by the neighbourhood yessir

He can play the guitar. his voice is okay, he’s not bad, he can sing and its really nice but its not the prettiest out of all the genshin boys

he loves serenading people and it just works bro, he knows exactly how to make people fall for him

diluc:

a lot of ppl say he would listen to like emo music or something but he listens to classical music

i mean he's a nobleman after all

he grew up learning the piano so he fell in love with classical music at a young age

unlike kaeya, he doesnt serenade people, instead you can find him playing piano at midnight, very captivating (i think i said this in a previous post lol)

hates it when kaeya gets control over the music

definitely the "pop music is so annoying and meaningless" bitch

venti:

nicki Minaj

I dont know why but nicki Minaj

Maybe doja cat too ngl

tbh venti just loves every genre of music

but he really loves everything the nameless bard has ever sung to him - whether it was an original song or not

Learnt every instrument just so he could play the nameless bard’s music wherever he went - venti loves him and his music very much

albedo:

Something magical

ghibli soundtracks maybe?

he likes merry-go-round from howls moving castle that's for sure

maybe chill vibey music

Luke chiang, maybe?

I wouldn’t be surprised if he could play the piano too but violin me thinks… or maybe viola just to prove how much better he is at music theory oooh so fancy he can read alto clef even though violas suck

Only sings lullabies to klee, doesnt sing otherwise, but he has a very calming and pretty singing voice, everyone wishes he sang more (khoi dao singing :,) )

bennett:

number one victory royale- no jk he doesn't listen to that shit unironically

bennett likes Wilbur Soot

really likes your new boyfriend

but other than that he really likes music with deep lyrics, he likes meaningful things

he also really likes singing, he's not that great at it but he loves it and he wants to get better at it

would probably be a band kid, probably plays the trumpet or something

razor:

razor doesn't really understand music

he doesn't have a favourite genre or artist or song

but he really likes bennett's singing

even if bennett thinks he's bad, razor likes listening to him sing, he thinks bennett is the best singer in all of teyvet

he doesn't know this wilbur soot guy, he thinks those are bennett’s songs and that bennett wrote im in love with an egirl about fischl and doesn’t know how to feel about that

Razor cant play any instruments but if he did maybe drums??? Hm… 

xingqiu:

everyone thinks he likes classical music - which he does, its just not his favourite

he listens to cavetown me thinks

like i think he listens to cavetown if you get what im saying

Sings lemon boy to chongyun even if he isnt a good singer

He plays the flute, not the best, he’s still learning

his older brother plays the violin and they often argue about which is the better/worse instrument

chongyun:

rnb? I get an rnb vibe from him

maybe krnb? like junny and crush

Chongyun is very swaggy imo so i feel like he’d like swaggy chill music therefore krnb

Not the biggest fan of cavetown but if xingqiu is listening to this is home then chongyun knows he has to be there to comfort him and sits through the song anyways 

Chongyun doesnt play any instruments, he sings all the time without realizing it though

he has a very nice voice and xingqiu always tells him this but he doesnt believe this (kinsens singing voice ;-;)

zhongli:

yet another classical music enjoyer

doesnt really mind other genres but he doesnt really like rap

also really likes old rock

journey, the Beatles, queen, he loves it all

but his favourite song is the song guizhong sings to the glaze lilies, nothing can replace that

Cant sing for shit, which is why he cant pick glaze lilies himself

Cant play any instruments either, playing music was always guizhong’s thing, not really his so he never bothered learning

childe:

pop music, whatever’s on the radio im sorry white boy

but also… hayloft? I feel like he would listen to hayloft but the question is would he listen to hayloft?

Surprisingly listens to rich brian bc he heard scaramouche listening once and loved it

Can sing, like he gets the notes right and stuff, nobody wants to hear it though (im so sorry griffin burns)

But sometimes he sings lullabies to tonia, anton, and teucer and :,)

Knows a little bit of piano - he had to teach tonia a bit back home bc they couldnt afford a piano teacher for her until he became a harbinger

xiao:

my chemical romance- nah I'm just joking he likes calming music, mcr and music like that would actually get on his nerves

he likes whatever venti plays

which makes him another big fan of the nameless bard - he doesnt know the songs aren’t venti’s though

JOJI

I think he likes joji, slow dancing in the dark and like you do are his favourites

Agoraphobic by corpse husband

Wishes he knew more about music but whenever venti offers to teach him he gets all “an adeptus doesn’t need to know such things”

He only sings to venti and the traveler whenever he thinks they’re asleep or sings them to sleep but he has sUCH A NICE VOICE (orz kinsen) - traveler and venti team up to get him to sing more

scaramouche:

CHOKE ME LIKE YOU HATE ME BUT YOU LOVE ME

Corpse husband.

literally just loud music with heavy bass I can see scaramouche listening to that

blasts that shit at the zapolyarny palace so that everyone knows he's there

signora hates it - childe, not so much but finds it a bit annoying sometimes

This man cant sing, he refuses to and he refuses to play an instrument

NO WAIT HE LIKES TAKAYAN

Cheating is a crime by takayan is his anthem

aether:

He likes whatever reminds him most of home, whatever makes him nostalgic

butterfly by bts

Youth by troye sivan

how to save a life by the fray

Mr loverman by ricky montgomery?

yeah sad music, he doesn't know where his sister is, he wants to go home, of course he'd be sad

Aether likes troye sivan, he gives me that vibe

Ukulele boy aether :o

He used to play the ukulele and sing with lumine (luyin kana’s voice :”) )

abyss prince aether tho hmmm… might be a different story, i feel like he wouldnt be a ukulele boy but he would still listen to sad music me thinks

dainsleif:

He doesn’t listen to music

Knows about music, but doesn’t listen to it

They say long ago he used to sing a lot, rumour has it he was one of the best singers in Khaenri'ah, he doesnt sing anymore

Hears aether singing and gets sad about lumine (or vice versa)