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artethyst · 5 months

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~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister!Reader/OC

Eris had never seen his Mate so nervous- to talk to him, anyway.

Even when they had first met she had been nothing but a pain in his backside- a beautiful one no less.

“I have…news.” Came her voice, wavering as she played with her fingers, sliding the grand, shimmering ruby across her ceremonially ringed digit to soothe her.

“I suspect it is bad.” His teased, taking in her soft appearance, taught chest blossoming at the sight of his beloved.

She grinned, but there was a strange sadness to her eye which sent his own heart racing.

“It depends how you feel about it.”

He quirked a brow as she moved to him, perching herself over his thigh, her skirts brushing against his riding boots that were caked in mud.

“My Love, I am filthy-“

“When are you not?” She mocked lightly and he could only roll his eyes in return, gathering her trembling fingers in his own, warming them as he knew she liked.

Without a word she guided one of his calloused hands away from her own, placing it on her lower stomach as she remained perched on his lap.

He was perplexed until he felt it.

Their life force thrumming as one.

He looked at her incredulously and she bit her lip.

He couldn’t breathe.

“A-Another?” He swallowed thickly. “So…So soon?”

“Eri, he is almost four,” she tried to smile, but his gaze was too piercing, focused on her stomach- where their babe guiltlessly lay.

She knew what was wrong.

“He is hardly three,”

His resolve quickly diminished as he felt her disappointment through the bond, her sweet face falling at his words- ones he vowed to never hurt her with.

He heard her breath hitch and that was enough to break him.

“It…It is a blessing.” He breathed out, unconvincingly- but she knew better. “My Love, any child you give me is a greater gift than I could ever ask for-“

“Then why are you so scared?” Her voice was low as she traced his jaw, eyes glassy as he took a deep breath and counted.

One.

His father was dead. He couldn’t hurt her or the child- children.

Two.

She hadn’t died in childbirth. Madja had saved her. She was alive. Her and his firstborn son were okay.

Three-

“Eri…Talk to me…”

He hated this.

Himself.

His own anxieties self sabotaging his relationships with the only people- person he really cared about.

He swallowed thickly before replying, the feel of her delicate skin against his own dragging him back to surface from his suffocating fears. Ones he might have drowned in if not for her addictive salvation.

“Last time.” Was all he could say, jaw taught. “I almost lost you- the both of you.”

“Eri-“

“I am not my father. You…You are more than what your womb can give me- one was enough. More than enough. You are more precious to me than the heirs you may provide.”

“You…You do not want more children?”

She knew her husband was wary about the first, but had hoped he might have been convinced to have more. She was happy to compromise with his darkest fears and stop at two if it meant she could have at least one of each.

“My Love, I would have as many as you would be happy to give me, but…But it is dangerous. The Healers said-“

“Eris.” She was firm, pushing his hand further against her slightly raised stomach. “You have no reason to be afraid. You are High Lord- we have the best Healers at our disposal. After last time-“

She felt him still at the memory, a chilling sense of fear scattering its way down the bond.

“It was a miracle you both survived.” His voice was cold as she ran a hand through his choppy auburn locks, knowing that his reaction was not one of disappointment, but rather sheer unadulterated terror.

Worry for both his Mate and unborn child.

“Eri, we are both okay- we will be okay.”

And then he nodded.

A shaky breath with it, no less.

“Another, then?” Came a breathy half-laugh, his amber eyes glinting in the soft light of the room.

“Another,” she replied, eyes just as glassy, an incredulous smile on her face as he nuzzled his face against her womb, fresh tears of his own gathering against her gown.

If only the first time they had found out had been as simple.

“Must you leave me?” Eris drawled against the crown of your head, inhaling the scent as if it were his last drop of water in the vast, dry plains of Summer.

“It is all but only for a few hours you fiery baby,” you teased as he grinned against your silky hair, revelling in its softness against his cheek. “I would extend the invitation to you, though, I am certain you would not be interested in having tea with-“

“If by tea you mean talking about your sinful novels and eating pastries-“

“I’ll have you know we have distinguished talks-“

“About Sellyn Drake?”

“How do you know about Sellyn Drake?”

It was then he went quiet, which made you giggle, leaning into him for support as his hold on you tightened.

“Will you take the guards I have assigned to you? Perhaps too at least three of the hounds-“

“It is my birthplace Eris,” you wanted to roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness but knew it only came from love. “No guards. No hounds.”

It was then the eldest hound gave a high pitched whine, the very same one that had taken to curling up protectively over your stomach and defying Eris for the first time ever in her meticulously reared existence.

You were lucky he hadn’t caught on.

“How will I survive these awful meetings without knowing you’ll be right behind those doors to greet me once they have ceased?

Your smile became wicked.

“Perhaps I will have a greater surprise for you this evening-“

You barely finished your sentence before his hands had found themselves desperately grabbing at your rear, you smiled into his needy mouth as he pulled you into a tender kiss, laughing wildly as he squeezed the cheeks to slip his tongue right through your lips.

He would be in for a surprise alright.

You breathed in the air of Velaris with a melancholic peacefulness, whilst Autumn was your new home- the Court in which you presided over, nothing could ever beat the place in which you had grown.

Only two days prior, you had discovered you were pregnant- a miracle in itself. You knew of Eris’ remaining self doubts, ones that failed to be distinguished even after snuffing out Beron. How he had assured you that it wasn’t necessary to provide him heirs, that the risk of childbirth was not worth losing you.

You knew he was nothing like his father, and had often caught yourself daydreaming of what you could have- what your brother had.

It wasn’t until the Healers excitedly told you of your newfound condition that you thought it could ever be a reality.

You wanted to make it special. As special as Fae pregnancies were, and so you decided you would visit your long time favourite bakery and have them ice a celebration cake in such a way that would reveal the surprise.

One you hoped your husband would take well if not for his ridiculous overbearing attitude.

“Gods, you reek of Eris,” your cousin grimaced, nose scrunching as she pulled you into a hug. “No…Wait. What is that?” She pulled away perplexed, her pouty mouth falling open in disbelief as she suddenly recognised the sickly, sweet aroma- one also tinged with your husband’s delicate spice.

“Mor-“

“OH MY GOD! MOTHER’S TITS!” She squealed, loud enough for all of Prythian to hear. “You’re pregnant with that asshole’s child!”

You frowned.

“That asshole is still my Mate you know.”

“Cauldron boil you I suppose,” she retorted, a grin on her joyous face as you rolled your eyes with a half smile, knowing her jests were all in good humour- despite everything.

Despite the truth. Despite the truth and what you knew of Eris, the very truth your family now did too, there was still a long way to go for them to truly accept him.

“That is why I enlisted your help,” you continued, her arm now looped through yours. “I have been glamouring my scent so he wouldn’t find out until I had planned something special.”

“He has turned you soppy, Cousin,” she mocked as you giggled, knowing it was very much the other way around. “But who am I to say no to free pastries?”

After you and Mor had sufficiently stuffed yourself with cakes, you especially savouring the taste having suffered without it for far too long. It wasn’t that Autumn desserts were bad, you just missed the sweets of your childhood.

That and you were growing sick of spices and apple.

You had felt a pair of eyes trailing you but presumed it was due to the fact you were still Princess of the Night Court, your presence was greatly missed in those parts of Velaris you seldom frequented since being appointed High Lady Of Autumn.

After you thanked your favourite baker, receiving the delicate cake and had practically forced the money into her hands, making sure to visit again soon, it was almost time for you to leave the City of Starlight.

“Why can’t you stay for dinner?” Your cousin whined, still hanging off of your arm like she did when you both were teens. “I’m sure your husband can manage those few hours-“

“We will visit again when I reveal the news to everyone. I swear on the Mother Mor…You better keep it a secret- especially from Rhys!”

She raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Besides,” you continued, blissfully unaware of the presence gaining on you from behind the narrow alley. “Eris-“

It was Mor who screamed first.

You felt the dagger pierce your side, but the sharp pain in your stomach that followed was worse than whatever the assailant had set out to do. A dull ache that had stolen your voice away as you fell to the floor, helpless.

You felt yourself waning as Mor’s loud voice became faint, the last thing you saw were her shaking hands, covered in blood, as she removed the Autumn Court dagger from your marred flesh.

Eris jolted when the bond was flooded with pain, his hands scouring burn marks into his ornate chair at the head of the meeting he had been called to at the sudden intensity of it.

He hardly had time to react before the large oak doors swung open, revealing Lucien who, to anyone else, looked normal, but the most disheveled Eris had seen him in years.

The Advisors quickly bowed and deserted the room before Eris had the chance to send them away, Lucien’s shallow breaths enough to warn them of the severity of the situation their ears were not Privy to.

“Someone was sent to kill her,” was all the Emissary said. He knew Eris would understand and was never one for pleasantries. “Rhysand has her in the Town House-“

And that was all he needed to winnow straight to where his Mate was being held.

“Brother,” Lucien called out, only steps behind the High Lord, jogging to catch up to the man barrelling through the doors adorned with Night’s symbology. “Rhysand has her room guarded, I warn you-“

“She is my Mate,” he growled, animalistic. “I shall do as I please.”

“High Lord,” Rhysand greeted sarcastically as Eris stormed his way into view, heart beating so fast he was sure he might have a heart attack if he didn’t reach you in the next few seconds.

“Rhysand if you do not step your ridiculously shoed foot aside-“

“She is safe. Our Healers do not need another High Lord breathing down their necks-“

“Safe? Someone tried to kill her. I think you and I have very different definitions of ‘safe’, High Lord.” The title was spat with venom, not respect.

“It was an Autumn Court Soldier.” Rhysand’s tone was pointed, “if she hadn’t been with Morrigan, perhaps nobody would have found her in time.”

Eris’ face paled.

“Autumn?” His jaw became taught. “Where-“

“Azriel took him to the dungeons. I assured him to leave the bastard to you, that you would most certainly provide the deserved punishment.”

Eris couldn’t thank him.

The horrible lump in his throat stopping him.

The one that had never left since his cursed birth- the one that had remained even when you had entered his life, the one that only shrunk, but never ceased to exist.

You had been hurt because of him.

Targeted.

Almost killed because he had been unaware- unable to stop it.

He knew he didn’t deserve you, but this was enough proof for him to make that very lump increase tenfold. Increase to the point where he felt he was going to suffocate.

He was drowning. He was erratic and his salvation- his only respite, was laying unresponsive in next the room over.

Whenever he got like this, which was rare as of late, you were the one to soothe him.

Kiss away his fears- quash the traumas his father had so lovingly provided him.

He felt like he was going to die.

He wanted to.

A life without you in it was not worth living.

He felt a familiar claws scraping at his mental shields and could only blame his lack of response for their intrusion, sending his brother a sharp glare in return regardless.

“Get out of my head Rhysand!”

“Let him see her, Rhys,” came Feyre’s gentle voice as she emerged from the chamber in which you were being held, and Eris might have thanked her if not for the red tainting his vision. “You would act just the same if it were me.”

Rhysand looked torn for a moment- as if he had only just remembered his little sister, now his only sister, belonged to another male.

That someone else now held her heart.

“Try keeping your emotions in check High Lord,” came his suave voice, though Feyre knew he was masking his own fears. “Wouldn’t want to exasperate her further through your…Unfortunate bond, would we?”

And with that, the High Lord of Night made his exit.

A silent acceptance that Eris was the one now entrusted to look over you.

Feyre sent Eris an apologetic smile before catching up with her own Mate, lightly berating him before they could turn the corner.

He didn’t even bother to listen.

You were more important than any domestic material he could have on Rhysand to poke fun at him for later.

You were more important than anything.

He thought he had prepared himself for the worst, but he would never forget the way your face looked in that moment.

Pale.

Sickeningly pale.

Not the delicate, moonlit expanse he spent his nights caressing- worshipping, wondering how he got so lucky, but a pallid shade that almost brought him to his knees.

You were the only one who could ever bring him to.

He knew he had memorised the shade of your eyes- an ethereal violet, the only place he’d allow himself to get lost in, but was horrified as they remained shut.

Perhaps to never open again.

Because of him.

Or so he told himself.

He wished then he had spent every breath- every fleeting second of his centuries of living looking into those eyes if it meant never having to forget the way they looked.

The way you gazed upon him- with love.

Not with fear, disappointment nor disgust, but the way his mother did.

Even when you had wanted nothing to do with him, before you had accepted the bond and would refuse to meet his gaze, forced to trail behind your father and brother as a well-bred female should- or so was told.

Even when he knew he was the only one in love- would do anything for you regardless, he would rather go back to that moment, see those eyes narrowed at him in fury, than never see them again.

“The dagger was laced with Fae bane,” came the voice of Madja, he knew that because you had forced him to be attended to by her when he had suffered a particularly nasty thrashing at the hands of his father.

One you didn’t trust the Healers of his own court to remedy.

“By the Mother child, sit before you faint on me.” His face might have been have been paler than yours- blood colder and far more disheveled. “She is alive. After she wakes, Mother knows she will, I must warn you, she will still require an extensive recovery period- especially because of the baby.”

Especially because of the baby.

The baby.

The baby. The baby. The baby.

“T-The what?”

Madja breathed sharply through her nostrils.

“I see.” She sighed, adjusting the pillows beneath your limp neck. “I was under the impression you were aware. Do not fret, I have not informed anyone else-“

“She…She’s pregnant?”

It was then any semblance he was gripping onto fell through his hands like the tears threatened to from his piercing eyes.

His chest felt like it was on fire- consumed by the same flames that rested within him, his ribcage screaming out with each wavered breath as he used the wall for support.

He was having a panic attack.

He was having a panic attack and you were not there to save him.

“Leave,” he gritted out when he felt Madja inch towards him. “It will resolve itself in a minute- go.”

She was in no mood to argue with a High Lord- a temperamental one at that, and, deep down, trusted him enough to be left alone with you. He might’ve been the only one she would’ve taken that order from.

She knew that you loved him- that he loved you more. Perhaps even deeper than her own High Lord loved his own mate. She had practically raised you, it was not hard to tell. It was a palpable love.

A fiery, all consuming love.

When the woman had finally left, he let himself fall to your bedside, one hand clutching his chest, the other trembling and taking a firm hold of your much smaller, much softer one.

One that was ice cold.

He gasped through his tears, so foreign against his skin- his skin that had become so hot, his Magic uncontrollable, that they evaporated as soon as they fell upon his freckled cheeks.

The words came tumbling out before he could even rationalise- process what they meant. Apologising- for everything.

Apologising for being your Mate, for cursing you to be bound to such a fool as he, one that had broken his promise to protect you- to keep you safe.

He sobbed unabashedly- unashamedly into your hands, the frail digits slowly becoming warmed by his powers as he continued praying the hardest he’d ever prayed- the only time of three that he had ever put his wavering faith into the Mother, to keep you and his unborn child steady.

Steady and awake.

He wasn’t sure if Madja had been vague to comfort him or simply because she too was unaware when you would come to.

Or if you would ever.

He hadn’t even become a father and he had already failed his one duty.

If he felt worthless before, it was nothing to what he felt now- kneeling on the cold stone, his head against your womb with his fractured cries ricocheting off of the bloodied material.

He would burn it.

Buy you 1000 dresses to make up for the one he destroyed- never wanting to smell the scent of your blood, the one which made him gag and tears gather ever more strongly at the corner of his russet eyes.

He would burn it alongside the very man had done this to you.

Burn him slowly.

He would burn everything for you, the entirety of Prythian- himself to ensure your safety.

And now his child’s.

“E-Eri?”

And that’s when he really did properly cry.

You couldn’t understand what he was saying, his hoarse voice muffled by the fresh linen Madja had given you after attending to your wound.

Then you realised he wasn’t saying anything at all.

He was crying.

He was crying and trying to hide it.

“I-I’m sorry-“ your voice was weak, and it was your turn to cry. “I-I should’ve listened to you, I-I should never have come, I put our baby in danger-“

You spoke without thinking, but it was then you gasped.

Your baby.

“The baby is okay-“ Eris let out, his own voice breaking, finally lifting his head and allowing his watery gaze meeting your own as if saying it out loud finally made him accept it.

Realise what truly lay ahead.

“T-The baby- our baby,” he choked out, and you let him bring you into his arms, as you hiccuped against his shoulder as he held you. “My star, I can never apologise enough if I made you feel you couldn’t tell me-“

“No,” you sniffled, wincing as you shifted, “I-I came here to surprise you, I-I had someone bake a cake- I-“ you burst into tears again. “I-I didn’t mean for any of this to happen…I just wanted to make you happy!”

You were still thinking about him.

He was supposed to be the one comforting you and yet all you could do was apologise- apologise for wanting him to be happy.

“My Love, you make me happy. With every breath I take knowing you are my Mate fills me with more joy than anything tangible- anything else the Mother could ever gift me,” his words were sincere as he delicately held you, mindful of your wound. “There is nothing in all of Prythian that matters to me apart from you.”

He felt himself becoming tense as his fingers brushed against your cut- the one he refused to look at because it turned him feral.

“Are…Are you happy then?” Your voice was so small it almost broke him. The fact you even had to ask. “I know how you feel-“

“My Light, that news alone leaves me the happiest I have ever been,” he was struggling to maintain his composure with his Mate so weak- trembling in his strong arms. “A child is a blessing, one I am honoured you would ever give me…” His amber gaze became crescent shaped as he smiled, still in disbelief. “I love you. More than anything. More than I ever thought possible.”

You didn’t know why you were crying anymore.

The pain, the fear, the love you felt oozing from the bond or your husband’s words.

The confessions that spilled from him so readily- easily after years of coaxing him from his shell, that hard exterior even you had to work through.

“Our baby,” you echoed, the only words you could find as you revelled in your Mate’s tears.

A rare sight if any.

“Our baby,” he affirmed shakily, his free hand remaining protectively splayed on your flat stomach, swearing there and then he’d keep you safe- the both of you safe, no matter the cost.

The same cost that later that evening, when you had spent enough time wrapped up in Eris, Madja shooing him away exasperatedly, the man who had dared do this to you paid for.

The cost he paid for when Eris knew you were amply surrounded by people- family who loved you, people at your beck and call by your bedside, giving him enough time to deal with the very scum that had once been part of his- your Court.

The very cost that was hours of torture- brutal torture lovingly provided by the very blade that had harmed you- a hundred fold.

The man couldn’t even scream his last words, his tongue cut from his mouth as he was burned alive.

Eris, with a snarl on his powerful face at the memory of you so helpless.

And with the blood of his enemy covering his shaking hands, all he could think of was you.

You and his child.

#fanfic #acotar #acotar fic #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra x reader #eris x oc #eris x reader #dad!eris

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pinkaditty · 5 months

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Beauty (Twisted Wonderland, Rook Hunt)

tiptoes into blog again but steps on a comically placed whoopee cushion and alerts the entirety of my eagerly awaiting readers

hey hi hi sorry this is 2 let you all know that i am ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i had 2 disappear 2 focus entirely on my studies bc i was due 2 graduate with honors soon and i needed 2 have ALL my work completed lol! anyways, im glad 2 say that soon i will be the proud owner of an early bachelor’s degree in pre-med. this honors thesis better look STUNNING on my fucking resume.

a/n: anyways YES im working on ur asks now that i have more free time yaaaaaaaaay!!! in the meantime enjoy this lol i wrote it entirely on a whim bc i saw the new rook card on twt and was like “hm. okay fine ass.” anyways let it be known i know VERY LITTLE about book 7 and Rook in general (ive seen spoilers but i don’t actively seek them out, plus i don't have the game anymore bc free palestine, fuck disney), so this might be ooc or an unusually placed scenario. please let me know how i can improve!

summary: rook’s back to his old self. he’s not sure of himself, but you have some choice words.

cw: suggestive!!!!!!!! minors DNI!!!!!!!!!, book 7 spoilers i think, gn!reader (specifics of reader’s physical attributes are not mentioned, but Rook uses the masculine French word for "dear"), NOT PROOFREAD!!!!.

MINORS DNI AS PER USUAL THIS IS SUGGESTIVE!! THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING MY BOUNDARY!!!

“Well, I admit… the version of me you see standing before you, cher, was not me at my prime…”

You stare curiously at the man before you. Unmistakably, this was Rook. Same French accent, albeit with a harsher twang, same upturned green eyes, same haunting, knowing smile. It was Rook, without a doubt. But, he was different. He looked different. His uniform wasn’t Pomefiore- it was Savanaclaw. His hair was longer and wilder, choppy bangs and uneven waves falling in his face and along his back. His skin was darker, a light tan present on his usually pristine, pale skin. Freckles dotted the bridge of his nose and crest of his cheeks, and a smattering of them was found on his shoulders and neck. He didn’t stand quite as tall; rather, he stood with a slight slouch. Bending forward just slightly, piercing green eyes peering at you from beneath the shadow of a wide-brim brown hat. Strangely, like this, he appeared considerably more predatory.

Suddenly, him previously being in Savanaclaw made sense.

However, this spurred a question in you. Not about his decision to change dorms, but about his words.

“What do you mean, not at your ‘prime’?”

You furrow your brows in confusion as you stare back at him, searching for answers. This Rook- with far more obvious muscle definition and hardened expressions- seemed quite at his fully-functioning peak. You step towards him, your eyes raking over his form, lingering at his rough, calloused hands on his hips, at his broad, freckle-covered chest, and at his perfect cupid’s bow, where a stray freckle laid. “Mon trickster,” he speaks, the sharp twang of his accent making you shiver. His lips rise into a knowing grin. Your eyes snap back up to his eyes, glued to you in irony. “It’s rude to stare.”

Your cheeks heat up only for a moment, but you wave him off. “Rook…” You start, giving him one more once over before glancing away again, not wanting to get too caught up in observing his proportions. “I don’t think this isn’t your prime. If anything…” You turn to him again, looking him in the eyes. You roll your bottom lip between your teeth before hurriedly spitting out the words before you could regret them. “...I think you’re beautiful.”

You would expect Rook, of all people, to be unfazed by these words. However, he seems a bit taken aback, his eyes widening and his posture straightening, before he leans back forward again, his predatory smirk stretching wider across his face. “Merci, mon chéri, however, I do believe-”

“I mean it.” You quickly interrupt him, stopping him from beginning a self-depricating tirade of how unaccustomed he used to be to the concept of beauty. “I think you’re beautiful like this.” You face him head-on, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. This shouldn’t feel like confessing, but strangely, it does.

Now it’s Rook’s turn to blush. His smile fades, his eyes going from knowing to gentle curiosity. The warm redness of the blush spreads across his tan cheeks, accentuating the darkness of his freckles. Something about that is endearing to you, and for a moment, you are emboldened.

You step closer to him, to which he instinctively steps back, maintaining space while his senses are momentarily thrown off by his reaction to your praise. However, he doesn’t get to do that for long. He stumbles back into a stool, gripping onto its edge as he falls onto it, surprised. He would have known that was there, if not for your closeness and persistence. You move even closer, placing a knee between his thighs on the stool, boosting your height and leaning in to grab his face. He freezes, momentarily shocked by your bold actions, but he soon relaxes, his shoulders falling and his breathing returning to normal. He looks down, his eyes becoming hooded before he looks up at you again, his emerald gaze more alluring than before. He bites his lip before speaking, probably to distract you. Admittedly, it almost works. “Mon trickster…” He speaks again, and you wonder how anyone got used to hearing him speak, when such a harsh twang in a smooth accent contradicted so perfectly. He breathes shakily, a blush returning to his face. You deduced he was definitely trying to lure you in. “You’re being… awfully bold today. May I ask what’s brought this on-”

“Your imperfections are what makes your beauty!” You don’t shout, but you do raise your voice, ensuring his words are drowned out. Being this close to him makes you somewhat nervous, but you stand your ground, pressing your palms a little more into the flesh of his cheeks. He blinks at you confusedly, waiting for you to speak. You open your mouth to speak, but close it just as quickly, letting out a few false starts before sighing. You look away, taking a deep breath, before steeling yourself and facing him once more. Slowly, you let your eyes take in his face, until your gaze reaches his freckles, prominent against his tan skin. You find yourself stroking his freckles with your thumbs, gently tracing the nonsensical patterns in which they appear. You finally find your confidence again, and speak without thinking. “Your freckles and tan don’t tell me that you had bad or sensitive skin- they tell me that you loved the sun.” Your voice is so gentle it surprises yourself, not whispered, but low, and filled with a strange intimacy.

His eyes widen at your words, his lips parted. He breathes shakily, but something about it is genuine this time. His eyes remain fixated on yours, his thick eyebrows downturned in a strange mix of melancholy and yearning. You stroke his face more, and he relaxes, closing his eyes and letting you hold him. You begin to breathe shakily yourself, your body flushing with heat and your fingers beginning to tremble just slightly. You move your right hand from his cheek to his hair, not once lifting your palm. Your fingers gently move through his hair, holding the back of his head, and he leans into your touch, exhaling as your pinky brushes the back of his neck. You lean in as well, following him as he follows your touch. He opens one eye to peer at you curiously, gauging your next action. When you gently pull at his waves, his eye snaps shut again, and he disguises a moan as a throaty exhale. You speak again, led purely by the spur of the moment. “Your uneven bangs and wild hair don’t tell me that you didn’t care for it- it tells me that you took the time to let it grow, and chose not to restrict what was yours.” You say this close to his neck, your lips gently brushing against the shell of his ear. He shivers, gripping the stool harder.

You begin to pull back, keeping your palms to his skin. You move your right hand back to his cheek, where your left hand still rests on his other one. You pause for a moment before drifting both hands downwards, your palms and fingers tickling his jaw and neck. He leans his head back to allow you access, sighing quietly at the feeling. You gently trail your palms and fingers down his neck before finally resting at the base. You then gently drag your hands to his shoulders and squeeze them, looking up at him. His blush still remains, and his lips are still parted, his breathing still shaky. He gazes at you expectantly, as though eagerly awaiting your next bit of praise. You lean towards his face and press your forehead to his, looking down at his shoulders. “Your slouch does not tell me that you had bad posture- it tells me that you were shyer, and didn’t take pride in your appearance.” You begin to trail your palms down his shoulders, your fingers feather-light on his skin in their wake. He shivers at the gentle stimulation, closing his eyes again. His breathing gets heavier and shakier, and you begin to feel heat pool within you once more. You pull your head back, straightening up as your stare at him. Leaning your face close to his, you continue to trail your palms down his arms, your fingers lightly pressing into his muscles, mapping out the structure of his body. Eventually you lift your palms, using only your fingers to trail down his forearm, tracing the insides of his wrists. He hardly flinches, likely expecting this, but still shivers at the sensation. “It also tells me…” You continue, your lips mere inches from his, but not daring to move any closer, staring at his cupid’s bow and blonde lashes. Your fingers reach his hands, and you gently pry them from their grip on the stool, moving them to his lap, palms up. You trace your fingers along his rough, calloused palms and fingers, making shapes and patterns. “...That you took more pride in the things you did with your hands.” You press your palms into his and his eyes flutter open, not surprised to find you mere inches from his face. He exhales, his blush deepening. He blinks at you, knowing you still weren’t finished yet.

“Your imperfections lead me to your beauty. That’s why…” You trail off, lifting one hand from his palm and caressing his cheek once more. “...You’re beautiful.”

You begin to pull back, closing your eyes and quickly moving away, beginning to move your knee from between his thighs on the stool. However, he quickly grabs you, his fingers gripping the back of your uniform as he pulls you in. Your knee follows your movements, pushing into his inner thigh on the stool. He sharply inhales, looking down, before looking back up at you with hooded eyes. His eyes still look expectant, as though he still wants more.

“Mon trickster…” He says lowly, pulling you in further. Your knee presses harder against his inner thigh and your upper body closer towards his. He breathes shakily, moving one hand from the back of your uniform to the front, bunching some of it in his grasp. He tilts his head towards you, and you can feel his breath on your lips as your eyes lock with his. Heat flushes through your body again.

“Are there any other… imperfect beauties… that I possess, that you’d like to point out to me?”

rejoice! entertainment be upon ye!

a/n: okay but seriously, i hope u all enjoyed! i wrote this in like,, a few hours? for reference it is like. 5:45 am where i am as i type this LOLLLL! i was up lateee bc i no longer have schoolwork which meansss every spare second i have that im not working working, ill be doing these. anyways! please please pleeeeaaaasssseee leave a like, comment, and a reblog if u liked it! i love 2 know that u loved my work! ik its been a while but i promise 2 try 2 be more active… i swear!! oh, and leave an ask if u have any ideas about other things i should write!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland smut #minors dni #rook twst #rook x reader #twst rook #rook hunt #rook twisted wonderland #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt twisted wonderland #rook hunt twst #rook hunt x yuu #rook hunt smut #twst #rook hunt x mc

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rogueddie · 7 months

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Mutual Mixtapes T | 544 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is letting him pick the music

Steve hates metal music. He hates how loud it is, how the higher notes on an electric guitar grate on his brain. He hates how it always triggers a migraine when it's played too long, how it makes them almost blindingly painful when it's played too loud.

But Eddie loves Metal. It always makes him visibly happier, excited, energetic.

As long as he pays close attention to himself, Steve can get through Eddies metal music. He knows that Eddie will turn it off, or turn it down, the second he asks.

It's worth suffering a few mild headaches to see Eddie so joyful.

"Which ones do you like?" Eddie asks him one day, out of the blue.

"I don't know, they're all great," Steve lies.

But Eddie rolls his eyes, tutting. "You hate most of them, it's fine, I know. Are there any that you do like?"

"Uh... that master puppet one that has that line that goes, uh... 'sleep my friend and you will see, the dream is my reality'. That's kinda good. But, uh, I don't like the heavy guitars it gets into."

"So you like the first three minutes, got it. That ones not too heavy for you?"

"It's a little heavy, and that start bit with the high guitar is, like, bad, but it's pretty alright. I like the words."

Steve forgets about the conversation as soon as he gets to work, distracted by Robins rambling and their work.

It doesn't come up again for a few days too, so when Eddie is holding a mixtape and grinning at him, excited, he's confused.

"I made you a mixtape! Well, technically us."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I think you might like it. If you don't, it's ok."

He puts the tape in and, when it starts to play, Steve is surprised. The first song that plays is... nice. It's nothing like the music he's grown used to Eddie playing.

"What is this?"

"It's Black Sabbath."

"This is Black Sabbath? Are you sure?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. It's a short one. Orchid. Thought it'd be the type of song you'd like."

"It is. Yeah, this... it's lovely."

Some of the other songs are edging a little too close to 'too much', but most of them are alright.

When Welcome Home (Sanitarium) plays, Eddie tells him the name and explains how he cut it up so the parts that Steve mentioned not enjoying aren't in it. It ends up sounding a little choppy, but Eddie is proud.

"What do you think?" Eddie asks, pausing the tape when he pulls up outside the new place Steve and Robin are working at.

"So far? Great. Some, um... they'd be better played a little quiet, but I like them. Thank you, for doing this."

"Don't worry. I want you to enjoy music with me, not suffer through it for me."

"Well, I loved that first one."

"Good. I'll try and find more like it."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to."

"Alright," Steve huffs, ducking his head. "Thank you."

Eddie shifts, turning so he can look around them, before quickly leaning over to kiss Steves cheek. "Stop thanking me. Just be honest when you're miserable, ok?"

"Alright."

"Go on then, out, I have another mixtape to work on."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm #day 21

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curio-queries · 1 month

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ARE YOU SURE?!

Episode 3 production Notes

I genuinely wasn't expecting to have much to say on this when I started it but there are definitely some things to chat about with this episode. Get comfy, it's another long post!

Here's a link to my post on eps 1 & 2.

(I guess this is a series now)

The Tone

I was curious about how a few things would be handled with the remainder of the show, and some of the answers are starting to unfold. We definitely have to see how the upcoming episodes play out but there's at least something to evaluate.

My main takeaway from episode 3 is that the tone is so very different from the previous ones. In my last post, I spent quite a bit explaining why AYS was a successful mix of Bon Voyage and In The Soop. That's definitely not the case here. This episode is a mix of Bon Voyage and Run BTS tonally. This episode is more what I was expecting they'd try to do with the edit to highlight the chaos and shenanigans that were a main ingredient in the content of BTS as a full team, especially to cover for the reduced member count from the full group.

Some of the main items that make this episode seem more energetic than the previous ones are:

The timeline. Episode 3 covers far less time than 1 or 2 did. It makes it seem like there's just too much going on to fit in the same parameters, which again makes the tone seem overall more rushed and hectic.

The music: far higher bpms consistently on all of the backing tracks.

The choppy edits. When we recognize that there was something missing in the middle of an interaction, our brains are still processing what we might have missed and orienting to what we're seeing next. With all of that going on, it easy to feel 'left behind' in even the most casual of scenes.

The intended audience. I just had one moment here that bumped me. At some point one of the members clearly says 'Fighting' but the translation wasn't just that word. It was a whole sentence about wishing for encouragement or something. These episodes have been very clearly laid out for an audience that is not only familiar with BTS but enough so that we know who each of these members are and why they might be doing these kinds of activities. If you had none of this basic knowledge, I genuinely don't think this show is even watchable...so why would people with that level of understanding need an alternate translation to 'Fighting'? Idk, maybe I'm being overly sensitive but like I said, it bumped me enough to question who their target audience was. Something I didn't even question with the prev eps.

Edited to add: an example of the tone influenced by the edit. Can't believe I forgot this one. It stood out to me in my first watchthrough. Thankfully our beautiful giffers captured the story beats for us all.

The Edit

Like I said at the beginning, this episode was far less a blend of ITS and BV and more a mashup of BV with Run BTS. The only thing in this episode that reminds me of ITS is the extremely choppy edit, which i think most would agree was not one of the highlights of those shows.

There are so many unresolved story beats in this episode of AYS! If you're not used to noticing something like this, here's an example:

In the car after their meal, vmin discuss that it'd be nice to pull over for some pics.

At the coffee drive through, Jimin makes a point to coordinate a stopover with JK so he can have his drink.

...and then we arrive at the house with no resolution. Did they stop? Did JK get his drink? We don't know, the only evidence we have is Tae carrying his partially consumed drink. So IF they stopped, Tae either didn't drink his or it was a very brief stop to not finish.

Here's another one:

When arriving at the house, the guys are all commenting bout how nice the place is.

Jimin exclaims about the pool.

...we don't get an establishing shot of the pool. On a rewatch of the episode, once you already know where it is, you're able to notice it for the slightest of moments but that's it. No hint of how big the pool is or even where in relation to the members it's located. It's just a tiny thing, not even important to the storyline but it leaves the audience without a reference to what the members are talking about.

There are dozens more of examples I could list but I think you get the idea. Again, not a big deal on small productions but you KNOW there was plenty of b-roll footage of the place. We see some of it. These are mostly just tiny observations that, if isolated wouldn't mean anything, but repeatedly set the tone for how the audience will be experiencing the rest of the episode.

The Guest

Another choppy edit is how they handled the introduction of Tae and the narrative that explains his presence here when he wasn't in the previous episodes. They either didn't get any good footage explaining it or they decided to purposefully try to cut it 'dynamically' for a reveal... in my opinion, this was not successfully done and just leaves the viewer feeling like we just need to accept the confusion and enjoy the endearing moments....which is exactly one of the main things I comment on in my Run BTS series. The BTS production team is astoundingly terrible at entertaining exposition. Long time armys are just used to it by now and I really don't see them changing anytime soon. They know ppl will watch the content for the moments we get to spend with the members, whether there's a proper narrative or not, so why bother?

Anyway, it's clear to see why those who have a bias against Tae have been using this as ammunition in their fanwars. It's just an awkward narrative that was poorly presented. (Personally, I'd rather everyone just focus on celebrating the members moments with each other rather than warping them to win imaginary points in a pointless battle but alas, I'm just an aging fan in a space that rewards useless vitriol).

Jimin's sickness...again

Poor guy just can't catch a break! At least that was the point they were trying to make editing it this way. Honestly, Jimin has so far been not as impacted as he was the previous episodes. Likely due to this upset being far more mild than the last one. However, there's so much more tension with it cut the way it was in episode3. It's not just that we're aware of it upfront unlike we were in episode 1. It's only highlighted in moments where Jimin is NOT participating in whatever the others are: not eating, not swimming, not climbing. In episode 1, most of the scenes that included any mention of Jimin feeling unwell also included some hint of JK wanting to take care of him or inquiring after his health. Episode 3 includes no such scenes. The overall impact is a much lighter view of how the members spent an exciting day rather than a genuine look into how they're interacting with each other as humans.

One last note: The Sound

There are definitely some horrific sound moments this episode! So much so that I noticed some on my first watchthrough! Again, there are allowances to be made, this is not a show being shot on a sound stage in controlled conditions but some moments were just plain misses in the edit.

For example, when vmin is listening to music in the car, the balancing of SEVEN from vmin's audio is horrific. The way to do this properly is manage the audio levels of their voices alone and overlay with the music track. This will help mask any audio that leaked into their mics. Something that can be easily done with rights to the music...which they have. And oh look at that, they do it correctly for J-Hope's Arson! It honestly is just coming across as a missed correction on the edit but I'd expect more from a BTS show that's licensed to Disney.

That's it for now. Overall, I'm disappointed in the edit of this episode but moreso because of how pleasantly surprised i was by the previous episodes. This one was very much kn par with other BTS content. Im also looking forward to the remaining episodes as I estimate we'll see a little more liveliness from our latenight-loving Jimin now that he's had his nap! 😆

Edited to add:

Are You Sure?! MasterList

#park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #AYS #are you sure?!#vminkook

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poppitron360 · 27 days

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Hii! Can I ask for some of your more lighthearted (as in not too angsty) Leo Valdez headcanons?

1. CANNOT SIT ON A CHAIR PROPERLY

FOR THE LIFE OF HIM. YOU COULD POINT A GUN TO HIS HEAD AND HE STILL COULDN’T DO IT.

I NEED MORE FANART OF THIS PLEASE

2. Can in theory breathe fire but doesn’t bc it gives him a really bad sore throat.

3. Still reading TOA- I just found out that Leo’s full name is “Leonidas” (either that or it’s a nickname Calypso gave him, but the fandom seem to agree that it’s his real name) but he HATES it when Calypso calls him that, so my hc is ANNABETH is the ONLY one with “Leonidas” privileges. And that’s bc he’s so fucking terrified of her he doesn’t DARE appose her on it. I feel like she does use it respectfully though.

Hazel is also allowed to use it sparingly.

4. Oh yeah fuck canon Leo and Annabeth are besties and they bond over both being runaways and also engineering/architecture stuff. Leo’s DEFINITELY had a peek around Daedalus’ laptop- his design for an automaton that can house a human soul got him thinking about his mom. He always planned on maybe taking a closer look at those files but then the laptop got lost in Tartar Sauce. I know you said no angst. Whoops.

5. Leo and Hazel start a support group for demigods who have come back from the dead. Every Wednesday in New Rome. Biscuits and Orange Juice will be provided. They call themselves the “YOLTers” (You Only Live Twice- because YOLO is for the weak). Thalia is also a frequent attendee.

6. I hc him as hard of hearing after the explosion in Blood of Olympus. Specifically deaf in his right ear and chronic tinnitus in his left. He uses hearing aids sometimes and also uses ASL and Morse Code to communicate. I choose to view that as wholesome bc we need more disability representation.

7. He is a “Leonidas” ONLY at Starbucks. He then follows it up with a bunch of equally hard-to-pronounce middle names (which he completely made up) said in a rapid-fire Spanish accent and watches the Barista panic as her white ass tries to spell it all. It’s even funnier when she tries to say it back to him when giving him his order. He takes the cup (leaves a generous tip) and says “but usually I just go by Leo” and walks away.

That is pretty much my entire understanding of American culture right there-

8. Trains autistic. He loves them. In the one I’m currently reading- The Dark Prophecy- Calypso and Apollo go on a train without Leo and I’m just imagining them getting back and him being “But what kind of train was it? Standard gauge or narrow gauge? Man, I love narrow gauge trains. Did you know that there’s this place in Wales called the Ffestiniog railway, where they have this special type of locomotive where the engine- the sicky-outy bit- is like, either side of the locomotive, so that there’s no need for a turntable-“

Okay I might also love narrow gauge trains (I’ve been on the Ffestiniog railway, it is amazing) (Also that is not a typo, in Welsh I believe the double f makes a soft sound (like in “off”) and a single f makes a hard sound, more like a v (like in “of”) you learn a new thing every day!)

9. Ambidextrous but Left-hand dominant (Often has to specify to his tool belt that he needs left-handed tools)

10. When speaking will put weird pauses in the middle of a sentence and not stop between sentences like talkingreallyfastwhenhe’sreally exited and talking slowly when he’s tiredit’skindaweird and choppy like hisbrainisgoing a million times faster than hismouth.

11. His favourite Disney film is Frozen.

12. When he’s comfortable around you, you start to hear more of his hispanic accent.

13. Said it before, will say it again. Headcannon no. 13 is ALWAYS WITHOUT FAIL “They’re a Swiftie.”

He has to listen to music as a way of not being alone with his thoughts. I discovered Taylor at a young age, and she has remained one of the few consistencies in my life since then. She got me through some tough times (Not as bad as Leo, but she helped me survive 2020). I feel like Leo would be the same- not always knowing where he’ll be sleeping that night or if food will be on the table, he’d want comfort, stability. Taylor would be there.

14. He wakes Frank up at 3am with “Hey I can’t read that what does that say?” “…Leo you wrote this. You’re telling me you can’t read your own writing?” Little does Leo know that Percy came in with exactly the same request half an hour before. Frank is finding being the only non-dyslexic on the ship incredibly frustrating.

15. Has the philosophy “anything is a fidget toy if you fidget with it” and STICKS to it

16. If Piper sees an item of clothing with an ungodsly amount of pockets, she is contractually obligated to buy it for him.

17. Eats cheese straight off the block. Like doesn’t even bother cutting it, he just *noms* straight into the block of cheese like it’s a chocolate bar. Similarly also eats Nutella straight outta the jar, sometimes without even using a spoon (and y’all know he doesn’t wash his hands).

18. Slightly more immune to electric shocks than normal bc of his way with machines (Valgrace nation do with that what you will)- similar to how Percy, as seen in botl, is a little bit fireproof.

19. You can’t tell me that during his first quest with Jason and Piper, they didn’t at least once triple-spoon with Leo in the middle bc he’s warmest.

20. In fact, “Cuddle Leo” is a common pastime for Jasiper. Particularly when it’s cold.

21. HE. CAN. SEW.

I saw a lot of people hc that Leo makes Percabeth’s wedding rings but that is factually incorrect. TYSON makes the ring. LEO makes Annabeth’s dress. I just started this fic where Annabeth, Piper, Leo, Reyna, and Rachel all go wedding dress shopping for Leo to get ideas, but he makes absolutely the most BEAUTIFUL gown for her- much better than any store. It puts all other wedding dresses to shame.

22. He can also knit, crochet (This hc was supplied by my mum who I’ve forced to read Heroes of Olympus), weave, and do macramé. He’s gone down rabbit holes about old-fashioned lacemaking. Him and Annabeth have sewing/crafting competitions at camp and on the Argo.

23. Autistic hand-flappy stim

24. He watches Stand-Up Comedy specials with Jason. I feel like if he wasn’t a mechanic he’d be a comedian (or run a taco truck, like Jason suggested in TLH). He takes his friends to as many comedy shows as he can. He loves them.

25. A Valgrace hc but it relates- while I was thinking up ways for Leo/Jason to propose (just a regular day in my brain), I had an idea for Leo to take Jason to one of those comedy shows that does crowd-work, and sits in the front row to get their attention. When the comedian asks who they are, Leo introduces Jason as his fiancé. When Jason goes, “Wait, no I’m not!” Leo yells “WELL WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE?” And gets down on one knee.

Also, sorry it’s taken me so long to respond. I’ve had this saved to my drafts and I’ve been slowly adding to it every time I get a new headcanon.

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tw1l1te · 7 months

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𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼- 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 1

These are from the FinalPromise!Au. Some will be directly from the og Linked Universe, as I don't envision my story as straying tooooo far from the original. I might add more in the future, but these are the ones that I am thinking of for now! This is part 1/3, which includes Time, Twilight, and Wild! :3

Warnings: mention of scars

⋆｡°✩

𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊

Mans in his early 30s in terms of appearance (actual age is unclear)

Speaks Hylian well but writing? Not so much. Growing up in Kokiri Forest doesn't really help in terms of school smarts, so he had Wars and Sky teach him a bit later down the line.

Has a slight Southern accent, way less prominent than Twilight's though. It comes out more when he's tired or being more flirty (Or doing it on purpose to fluster Y/n.)

Him and Malon are exes? It was a situationship, they didn't really put a word on it. She was there after his quest to support him and keep a roof over his head. They're more like family/friends now

Very tall. We're talking over 6 foot here, and he will also use that to tower over Y/n. They're into that

Also pretty muscular. He was more lean muscle when he was a teen/young adult, but he's bulked up especially since donning the armor.

Has rib tattoos, similar to the Deity markings on his face.

Only has his lobes pierced, however he wants to experiment with more piercings like Twilight.

Has some scarring on his stomach from the battle at the Water Temple, its faded over the years but its still noticeable if you look hard enough

Doesn't sleep well, so takes over night watch a lot. Twilight has to stop him from not sleeping for over 48-hours as that gets him into dangerous mental space territory.

I wanna say he's one of the first member of the chain to feel something for Y/n. I see a lot of pics placing him last usually, but I feel like he's one of the first, especially having tons of time to think about it at night and being the eldest.

Although he's one of the earliest to reveal his feelings to Y/n, he's still processing and taking it slow in terms of bringing it up to the rest of the group.

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

Time's his great great grandfather?? Some great, he's not quite sure

Twilight's in his early/mid 20's

His hair is a brown-gray mix, the grey becoming more prominent ever since his first time shifting into his Wolf form.

Southern drawl, need I say more

Ears are pierced, has double lobe piercings and an upper cartilage piecing

Pretty tall, close to 6 foot, maybe 5' 11"

Other than the Twili markings on his face, he has a small tattoo of a hoof to commemorate for Epona on his ankle

His markings do extend down his spine and upper arms which make a delicious sight when he's training or above Y/n

Some scarring on his legs and arms from his journey, one longer scar on his right ear from a close call with a Twilight creature once.

Senses are like tripled ever since becoming Wolfie, mr. cowboy can smell things like a mile away.

Similar to Time in terms of build, maybe slightly leaner because of his height

However his voice is the deepest of the group. Mans got the range in octaves and that sexy rasp that he will use to his advantage

Like his ancestor, one of the first to have/admit feelings toward Y/n

However, having a Wolf form also speeds up the feelings of protectiveness obsessiveness... and certain other things.

Has such a sweet tooth.

Loves chocolate so much but ever since Wolfie happened, he can barely eat any 'cause he got that dog in him

Protective of Wild too, other than Y/n, he's probably the only other person that knows what he's been through

𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖉

18-19 years old, his adventure has just recently finished

His hair is longer than in his quest to save the princess, though definitely more choppy and wolf cut-like when not in his ponytail

Definitely more lean muscle in terms of build, and is probably average in height

Has triple pieced lobes and a few cartilage piercings, plans on getting more

Left side of his body is heavily scarred, partially deaf in his left ear. Also tends to lose feeling in his left arm and leg, so he prefers to use his right side

Can actually read and speak Hylian How do you think he read everyone's diaries

As we all know, he's one of the best cooks in Hyrule and can cook almost anything, but his favorite thing to make has got to be meat curry and a simple nut cake.

After you came along and introduced him to your foods??? Oh boy he's never been so excited-

Somehow made your favorite foods better than they already were

Closer with Twilight and Legend

Takes longer to catch feelings for you, as the mere concept of feeling toward another person is still a confusing topic for him since his slumber

One of the last ones to catch feelings for you, partially in denial because his belief of not being good enough for you/being very harsh on himself

Twilight almost immediately catches onto Wild's attraction towards you, Wild's not the best at masking nervousness around you

⋆｡°✩

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe au #linked universe headcanons #final promise au

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gonedreaminggg · 20 days

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Laurance Zvahl's Hair

this wasn't supposed to happen. i promise. it just appeared in my drafts.

but, as promised, here is almost 2000 words about Laurance Zvahl's hair. (with some garrance sprinkled in there for the crazies 😏)

Laurance and his hair go way back. When he was a kid, it was always messy. He'd get dirt and grime in it and Hayden would always just shake his head and tell him to bathe when he got home from playing all day. His light brown locks would get so long in between haircuts, and the longer it was the more likely it was to get matted. So Hayden would cut it very very short, stopping right behind his ears.

But, he'd be able to escape Hayden's scissors every once in a while. If something was amiss in the village, it would take up all of Hayden's time. So, he managed to grow it out long again.

Until one day, when Laurance was 8. Him and Cadenza were playing in the backyard, and she pushed him a bit harder than she thought. He ended up crashing into the chicken wire fence. His hair got all tangled up in it, and he was stuck. Cadenza was all panicked, apologizing profusely as she yelled for their father. Hayden grabbed his scissors and cut Laurance free from the fence. It was super super short, shorter than it had ever been. And super choppy, too.

After that, Laurance was terrified of haircuts. He never let anyone cut his hair ever again. And at this time in his life, he was getting more curious about his parents. And his heritage. There were people still in Meteli that knew his parents. They were Tu'layan immigrants, much like most of the population in Meteli. He wanted to know more about Tu'la and its culture. One of the things he learned was the superstitions they had about hair. There's an intense spiritual connection to it. It's a part of their spirit. It holds their strength and confidence. It connects them to the land around them.

After that, Laurance definitely did not want to cut his hair. In respect for his parents and his heritage. He also truly believed that it held his strength. If he wanted to be a guard, or a lord, he needed his strength. He grew it out for years. When he meets Aphmau, the last time he had cut his hair was the whole chicken wire fiasco. It was so insanely long, and damaged from the dye Cadenza had put in it. He usually held it in a messy braid, just to keep it cleaner. And yes, he finally learned how to take care of his hair in the years he'd been growing it.

When he was at the guard academy, he had no clue what to do with his hair. He had the longest hair out of the boys. The girls training there called him “wasted potential.” Which had nothing to do with his fighting skills, by the way. He was already climbing the ranks in his first two years there. Eventually, one of the girls took pity on him, and gave him a bottle of conditioner. She taught him how to do the towel wrap thingy, which he thought was literal magicks.

After that, girls literally started flocking around him and Garroth. And he earned his flirtatious attitude from that. He never had a girlfriend at the guard academy, but he did get around.

Garroth was very intrigued by his hair. He’d never seen a boy with hair so long. He asked Laurance why he kept it long. To him, it seemed more like a pain than anything. When he talked to Garroth, it was the first and really only time he explained everything about his hair. What it meant to him, why he had started growing it out in the first place, and his complete disdain for chicken wire fences. Garroth understood, but still questioned how difficult it might be when fighting. Laurance never gave him an answer.

Cadenza had also taught him how to braid his hair. Around the time they were 18, Laurance’s hair was so unruly, but he was absolutely not gonna let her cut it. So, she braided it for him whenever he had a shift at the guardpost. Eventually, she taught him how to do it. She was getting tired of taking care of his mess of a mane.

A few years later, Cadenza had the bright idea to dye Laurance’s hair. She was so adamant about it. But Laurance always remarked on how it looked like her head was on fire. But she ended up convincing him. Laurance regretted it immediately. He had been ready for some sort of change. But once he saw it, he just started laughing. He really DID look like Cadenza. Which is weird, seeing as they’re adopted siblings and from completely different racial backgrounds. But they have the same soft features, and the same sharp jawline.

And then, he met Aphmau. She was the first woman he really had to try with. In Meteli, if he gave someone the right look, they’d be fawning over him. But he was so interested in Aphmau. She was allusive, and powerful. And she did not give a shit about him. Yes, she was a very caring person, but all of his sly remarks were ignored. However, she was very interested in his hair. A lot of people were, but she didn’t know the meaning behind it. Once he told her, she was fascinated. The idea of hair holding spirit and strength enticed her, and it really resonated with her, too. She let Laurance braid her hair whenever he wanted after that.

When Laurance gets out of the nether, he feels entirely lost and disconnected from himself. Cadenza offers to clean him up, and get him in some new clothes. Even though he's blind, Cadenza can see the emptiness in his eyes. She offers to dye his hair back to its original color. And there's something unlocked within him. His hair. It feels wrong, and heavy. Not so much because of how dirty it is, his own blood and sweat in it. It's weighed down by everything that's happened. He's something new now. Something that feels less. "Cut it off," He says. Cadenza freezes. She knows why he keeps his hair long, and has witnessed his hatred of haircuts first hand. But she does it anyway. Whatever Laurance needs from her, she'll do it.

When Garroth saw him later that night at the baby shower, he was more than concerned. He really hadn’t seen much of Laurance since they’d found him, terrified of seeing him in that state. But then he did. He was blind. His hair was cut short, and it was brown again. Garroth knew more than anyone what Laur’s hair meant. He was scared of what this implied. And he knew Laurance was a Shadow Knight now. He couldn’t have survived the nether for that long without being transformed. Laurance was his friend, maybe more, but he was someone else now.

A distance formed between them. Laurance was struggling, even when his sight somewhat came back. And Garroth kept thinking about the amendment he made in the Guard’s Oath. He didn’t want Laurance dead, but he wanted Aphmau safe. And then, she wasn’t. She had left, and they hadn’t heard from her in weeks. So, with some malice between them, the two guards had to go find their Lord.

When Laurance, Garroth, and Aphmau went on that long journey, all of their hair grew out pretty fast. He saw Garroth and Aphmau cutting each other's hair one time. He didn't really mention it, not wanting anyone to get any ideas about HIS hair. But, eventually, Garroth pointed out the literal rat's nest growing on his head. Laurance let him cut his hair. It was the first haircut he ever had that he didn't hate. From then on, only Garroth could touch his hair.

Laurance realized how easy it was to take care of short hair. He hadn’t had hair this short since he was a child. But he felt lighter. He felt like he had completely changed as a person, now that he was a Shadow Knight. He held his strength elsewhere, now. He was growing a disdain for his heritage, and his past. Being something new opened a different chapter of his life. He was beginning to hate his human side, and his culture. So he let Garroth cut his hair every once in a while.

And then they went to the Irene dimension. And Garroth got left behind. Laurance was in a world without his other half, which Garroth had grown to be. He stopped thinking about his hair really, and when he did it was memories of Garroth sitting behind him, knife in hand as he trimmed his hair. So, over the months, maybe years that Garroth was gone, he began to grow his hair again. Was it in respect for Garroth this time? The memories they shared, the time they had lost?

By the time they saved Garroth, and Aaron had died, Laurance’s hair was past his shoulders. Garroth was trying to settle into this new era. He knew that so much time had passed, the decay of Phoenix Drop showing that. But when he saw Laurance, that just solidified the deep sorrow for all he’d lost. There were new scars on Laurance’s face, a tenseness in his posture. His hair was long again. Nowhere near the length it had reached before, but substantial enough to hurt Garroth in a way he’d never felt before.

Laurance kept growing out his hair after that. It just… felt right. The calling was consuming him. He needed his strength again, something to hold his true spirit. He needed a visible reminder that he was Laurance, not whatever the calling wanted him to be. And it worked, for a while. He let his anger simmer deep within him. He tried to hold on to whatever was keeping him sane. Garroth needed him, Aphmau needed him. He just needed to hold on.

And then he heard about Aphmau’s pregnancy. He had gotten over her for the most part, but there was something in him that just wouldn’t let her go. It was the calling. It wouldn’t let him let her go. And hearing that she was pregnant, with Aaron’s child, lit a flame inside of him. The simmering anger in his heart had exploded into an eternal flame.

He wasn’t in control anymore. His limbs moved against his command. He found a nether portal. He took his sword, the one Aphmau had gifted to him, and cut off his hair. And he jumped in.

#i wanna be eaten by the void now please #the scary part about all of this is that i don't even remember writing this #it just happened guys i promise 😭😭😭#liberty and justice for no one but laurance zvahl #aphblr #aphmau #aphmau minecraft diaries #aphmau mcd #laurance zvahl #minecraft diaries #garroth ro'meave #mcd laurance #minecraft diaries laurance #aphverse #lore #garrance #laurmau #larmau

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reedmurdock · 9 months

Text

Figure You Out- Mattheo Riddle

A/N: This one shot is based off the song Figure you out by Voilá

Summary: Mattheo, your childhood friend, knows you better than anyone else including your new boyfriend.

POV: 1st/2nd/3rd Gender: fem/GN/m

Warnings: Jealousy, bad bf (not Mattheo), me writing while I have writer' block 😅, also I changed the Rolling Stones to Måneskin bc I love them

===========================================================================

I could love you with my eyes closed Kiss you with a blindfold Figure you out (mm mmh) I might hold you with my hands tied Show you I'm the right guy To figure you out

——|——

Mattheo stared at you from across the Great Hall. You were seated beside your new boyfriend, some Ravenclaw boy whose name he couldn't remember. The boy was too caught up in his conversation with his friends that he didn't pay any mind to the hand you nudged him with to get his attention. Mattheo frowned when the boy just brushed you off and continued talking.

"Is that git still not giving them attention?" Draco asked, sliding into the bench across from him. Mattheo shook his head still glaring daggers at the Ravenclaw boy that, in his opinion, didn't deserve an ounce of your care and love.

"I know them better than anyone. If you put me in a room with a hundred other people with a blindfold and my hands tied, I could find them from their voice. Also, he got them tickets to a rap concert. They like Måneskin a lot better than rap." Mattheo sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He knew he could treat you so much better. He'd known you forever.

——|——

"Does he even give you any love?" Mattheo asked you while you guys were hanging out in the Slytherin common room.

"I mean he always invites me when he goes places with his friends. They're fun to be around I guess," you said not looking Mattheo in the eye and picking at the skin around your nails. Mattheo tilted your head up, giving you no other choice but to look at him.

"That's not what I asked. I asked if he gave you love," he snapped though the anger was not directed at you but at your sad excuse for a boyfriend. Your silence told him all he needed to know.

——|——

"I don't think this is working," your boyfriend said, "You seem to take a liking to the Riddle boy. You give him so much more attention than you do me." he nitpicked as if he was the victim to neglect. Instead of begging him not to break up or profusely apologizing like he thought you would, you countered his faults he found in you.

"No. Ever since we started dating, you didn't give me an ounce of affection, in public or private. In fact you seemed embarrassed when I tried to hold your hand or touch you in any way around anyone you knew. Even when we were by ourselves, you pushed me away when I reached out. I tried to make this work even when I clearly saw it wouldn't. I'm done trying and I'm done with you!" you yelled and walked off leaving a very stunned Ravenclaw alone in the hallway. Mattheo approached him with a smirk on his face, "Didn't go how you expected huh?"

——|——

Draco walk into the common room to see you and Mattheo curled up under a black fluffy blanket reading a book together. Although Mattheo was paying more attention to you reading rather than reading himself. Draco chuckled and made his way up to his dormitory happy for his friend.

"You know, I bet if you put a blindfold on my I could still kiss you just the same. I could hold you with my hands tied," Mattheo said with a content smile on his face. He gently took the book and laced it on the table in front of you, pulled you closer to him, and pressed kisses all over your face until both of you were laughing and giggling like little kids.

===========================================================================

A/N: AHHHHHH, I think this is one of my favourites. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm sorry if it was a bit choppy, I've had a very bad case of writer's block. I hope after this I can post more. Love you guys ❤️❤️

Word count:710

#reedmurdock #fanfic #wattpad #writing #hogwarts #harry potter #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #x reader

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abyssalzones · 4 months

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What's your comic writing process like? I'm starting to get into making my own comics and I really admire your work!!! Any advice?

Ah, intrepid traveler, you've done well to journey to this secluded mountaintop spire, in search of the answers you seek. I indeed can provide such forbidden comicmancy knowledge... at the cost of your mortal soul...

coughs. anyway, I'm going to warn you immediately that what works for me does not work for everyone else, and in my experience the way I do things can prove very slow and discouraging for anyone who is more interested in the actual "drawing the damn comic" part of the process. I only do it this way because I enjoy weaving a narrative web that feels not only fully contained but re-readable, but my projects are often so long and my memory so shitty that I can't just keep all of it in my head! It would spill all over the place and make a really embarrassing mess of brain-juice. Not ideal.

but as for my own process, uhh... I suppose a comic would be fitting, right?

a little choppy but you get the idea.

as for turning words into art, I've been experimenting with figuring out the best way to do that for a little while now. Originally what I was doing for something like Ad Astra Per Aspera was to take my "script" and sketch it out on paper very loosely, before transposing that onto my canvas and working from there:

...but, I've found that can make it kind of difficult to space everything around on your standard page-size, and the thing I'm having the most problems with currently seems to be finding the sweet spot of panel-size proportions. So, I've taken to printing out standard thumbnail templates (you can just find these on google) and sketching very tiny panels in those, which seems to give me a slightly better sense of scale... (mild chapter 5 spoilers, sorry ad astra fans)

but I have yet to totally pull through on this, so who knows, maybe I'll try something else in the future!

As for advice, this is probably most applicable to me, but as a disabled artist I have a very hard time managing my workload without literally working myself into injury. I don't think I talked about this publicly but when I was working on that ten year anniversary comic I was literally drawing every single day for 3 solid months. Sometimes, in my case, I really can't bring myself to stop once I've latched onto an idea, and sometimes I find the most rewarding thing I can do with my time is to draw- but I seriously cannot overstate: Do not fucking do this.

You will fuck up your wrist, your back, your neck, your eyes, and probably your mental health. It's a well-known fact that mangaka have a lower life expectancy than the average japanese person due to the intense workload imposed on them by deadlines and personal expectations. Comics are a very demanding artform, and even though I'm not on any sort of mandated schedule there are times where I've toiled away at something when I likely should have been exercising or taking vision-breaks. Therefore the best advice I can give you is to chill the hell out.

Namely, find parts of the process you can be lazy about, and embrace the laziness! You don't like digitally sketching? Don't do it! Skip it, or maybe find a way to traditionally sketch things out in advance like I do. Hate lineart? Don't fucking do it. You really don't feel like wasting your time writing 72k words of comic scripts? ...then, don't be like me. skip that part. I'm a flawed human being and what works for me might not work for you.

The second most important piece of advice I could give is to read comics. Of all kinds. The reason for this is pretty self explanatory: In order to figure out your own comic-making style, you should first pick out bits and pieces from the artist's buffet to add to your plate. Manga, graphic novels, american comics, european comics, weird niche little webcomics, funny papers, anything and everything. This advice rings true of pretty much any art form, but I find it to be essential to honing comic-making skills because so many things you feel will just come intuitively often don't. and that's okay! nobody is born knowing how to leave space for speech bubbles or shape their panels in a way that imitates stretches of time. The best way to figure out stuff like this, in my experience, is to study the "masters", and then after becoming well accustomed to the basics, figure out what rules you want to bend or break to create your own style.

I consider myself to be in equal parts a writer and an artist, which lends itself well to making narrative comics, but maybe you're a bit more of an artist and want to focus on panel-by-panel visual storytelling. Or, conversely, maybe your talents lean closer towards writing, and the art itself is more of a secondary skill. Regardless of your unique blend of talents you can and should make a comic, you should just also be aware of your strengths and try to hone in on those- there will always be opportunities to build up skills you lack, but focusing on what you do best will always lead you in the right direction.

Anyway, that being said, here are some recommendations in no particular order:

Monster, Naoki Urasawa (!!)

Bone, Jeff Smith

Witch Hat Atelier, Kamome Shirahama

The first IDW run of Transformers comics (namely More Than Meets the Eye and Lost Light)

Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi (!!)

Through the Woods, Emily Carroll (really any Emily Carroll comics)

Kill Six Billion Demons (webcomic) (!!)

Akira, Katsuhiro Otomo

The Third Person, Emma Grove

Tintin, Hergé (can be super racist please be wary)

Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui

Calvin & Hobbes, Bill Watterson

Maus, Art Spiegelman

Cucumber Quest (webcomic)

Jellyfish Princess, Akiko Higashimura

Golden Kamuy, Satoru Noda (!!)

Note that I did not grow up with manga so I am seriously behind on a lot of extremely influential japanese comics such as Dragon Ball, One Piece, basically any of the original Shonen Jump comics, but they're widely considered building blocks of the genre so if you love the artform I think you should give them a try! Same goes for classic non-shonen manga genres like various Shoujo, Josei, Yuri, Gekiga, ETC.

same as above applies to a lot of classic DC and Marvel works, I unfortunately am just not a big fan of superhero comics... but I'm sure there's good stuff in there. a couple of my mutuals talk about booster gold and the blue beetle all the time so I'm assuming there has to be something worthwhile.

...and many, many, many more that I'm forgetting! I noticed as I made this list that, to my knowledge, hardly any of these are made by black or just non-japanese-mangaka BIPOC artists, which makes me sad about the gaps in my own comic collection. Therefore, anyone is welcome to add their own recommendations in the replies!

now go forth, and combine images with text!!!!!!!!!!!

#lab notes #long post #lab creations #askbox #not hiding all this shit under a readmore. look at my advice #hopefully this helps ? I'm not a professional and I'm still fairly new to making comics but this is what I've found works for me #I'll add alt text to this later! very busy right now!

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cosmal · 1 year

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umm what about!!! sirius or james comforting you when you get a haircut and don’t really like it at first. because I always hate fresh haircuts before I get used to it (especially when the hairdresser styles it weird lolzies)

haircut

summary — you hate your new haircut but sirius makes you feel better.

content — sirius black x fem!reader

note — this is unedited and so so i’m sorry baby

You're supposed to meet Sirius at the cafe around the corner. You really don't want to. You want to go home, find a hat maybe, maybe wash your hair for three hours until it magically all grows back.

You don't want to see your boyfriend awkwardly try to tell you your new haircut looks good, because you really hate it. It's way too short and weirdly cut around your ears. You think it might be uneven around your neck but you can't see it properly.

You reach the cafe and tug the hair down around your ears cruelly, and don't even realise you're crying. Tiny tears splash down your cheeks and curve into your mouth. You wipe them with the back of your hand and sniffle, steeling yourself before you see Sirius.

You find him, at a table in the corner with his pretty legs crossed and a mug to his lips. Reading something on his phone. You cross the cafe and hold your breath.

Your knees knock into the mosaic table and Sirius looks up. He stands quickly and he's already smiling. So wide you think it might hurt. "Oh my god," he says cheerfully. Your bottom lips juts out. "Baby, it looks so good!'

He reaches up to run his hands gently through your hair. He twirls a lock around his finger, eyes bright and wide. It feels funny because you really hate it. He's gotta be lying to save you. You turn your face to hide in his hand and he cups your cheek.

"You don't like it?" He's doubling down, startled to find your face a little wet under his palm. You shake your head in his hands and he coos. "Really?"

"No, look at it." You take your hair into your hands and tug at it gently, still, a tad peeved. He frowns.

"I am, honey," he laughs a little. "It looks good, I love it!"

"Don't lie to me."

"What?" He knocks your pouty lip with a bent knuckly gently. "I'm so serious with you right now. It looks amazing."

"The hairdresser must've been drunk." You're so sincere about it, Sirius almost laughs some more. He decides against it. "It's all choppy and crooked,"

"It's not," he says. "Would I lie to you?"

"Probably," you grumble.

He smooths his hands over your head and is smiling so genuinely you think you might feel a little bit better. You're not sure if you despise him for how he makes you feel, because you truly don't like your haircut, but he's looking at it so softly, like he's never liked something more in his life.

His eyes glimmer and his mouth twitches. "Lovely." He's speaking so softly that he's hard to be heard over the cafe. There are no more than five people in here. "It looks amazing. I promise. God," he's doubling down to save himself, lest he look like a total sap right here and now, "you look so pretty." He swallows.

"Do you really mean that?" It's a silly question, really. Sirius is a really good liar but you don't think he'd ever lie to you about this. He hates to see you upset but he'd rather be truthful.

"Of course," he says, hands finding their place on your shoulders. "Really. It suits you so well."

You probably should believe him. You've no reason not to.

You sit down in the seat in front of him in case you do something stupid like hug him in the middle of the cafe until your legs are sore. Sirius seems mildly put out. He sits down with you and doesn't waste time grabbing your hand.

"I'm sorry," you mumble. You use your free hand to take his mug and hold it to your lips. "Am I being stupid?" you ask before you take a sip.

He takes the mug back when you give it to him, quick to speak. "No, it's okay. It might just need to be styled differently. You know what you like."

"Yeah," you hum.

There's a silence where Sirius can tell you're thinking about your hair still. "You want me to order you a muffin?"

You smile and Sirius feels a little better. "And a chai latte?"

"Of course."

Sirius starts chatting away and you forget about you hair almost immediately.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x female reader #sirius black fanfic #sirius black imagine #sirius black fan fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black drabble #sirius black blurb #marauder #marauders #the marauders #the marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #marauder x reader #sirius black fluff

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ellsieee · 1 year

Text

Stay With Me didn't let us down! 😭 We got kisses and a confession. There is no way anyone can say it's not a BL now. 🙄 Not that there was any doubt even before that. The subtext was just too obvious.

I can't believe they went there. Super sleuths have already found that it really is just lip balm, but the implication is clearly that Wu Bi's dad found his lube. Wu Bi why did you do your dad dirty like that? Don't smear your lube on his mouth! 🤣

Wu Bi was about to confess but he chickened out. 😅 Shy Wu Bi is so cute. Wu Bi really can't live without Su Yu. He had never been that bitchy and rude to Mo Yi before, but now there's someone at home he wants to be with and has no time for Mo Yi's shit.

First almost caught by Wu Bi's dad and now Mao Chong. Su Yu's nervous shifty eyes cracked me up. We all know he and Wu Bi have been doing something something in his room.

They are so happy to see each other!😭Their smiles. Really, I can't. I love how much they love each other. I could not stop smiling watching them hug.

Oh how I squealed. THEY ARE SO FRIGGIN CUTE!!! AHHHHHHH! This might literally be my favorite moment in the entire series.

"Go cough somewhere else" lol. Poor Mo Yi. Right in front of his salad.

Su Yu's little smile is EVERYTHING. I feel like we're missing a scene before this though. It just seems a bit out of place that Wu Bi would run up to kiss Su Yu at school and for Su Yu to not be surprised or embarrassed. I'm counting on that uncut release later. Actually I felt like the editing for these two eps was a bit choppy. I'm going to guess it's because they cut a bunch of stuff because it was too gay.

I love all the subtle ways they show us they're boyfriends. Su Yu casually using Wu Bi as a leg rest, Wu Bi teasing Su Yu about him not knowing he's Wu Bi's most important person, Su Yu taking care of Wu Bi, and Wu Bi making not so subtle hints about their relationship in front of everyone. Why always in front of Doudou? Always! 😅

The normally aloof Su Yu kissed Wu Bi! Again it's Su Yu's little smile after the kiss that makes it so sweet. The spoilers were actually true! I didn't think this would happen because in the behind the scenes Jiongmin had said there was no scene where he kisses Xu Bin, but here we are! Xu Bin's dream has finally come true. 🤭

I was not expecting such an explicit confession! They tried to hide the gay a little by having Su Yu add the ocean part, but Wu Bi's qq screen name is 我想我是海 (I wish I am the sea) and so when Su Yu shouts 我爱你, 大海 (I love you sea), he is not so subtly telling Wu Bi that he loves him. Awwwww. 🥹

But also, I have to drag production a bit on the terrible green screen CGI here. It looks so fake! Did they run out of money? How hard is it to film a sunset at a beach?

No. Don't you dare Mo Yi. Fuck off. If the last two eps break my heart I'm going to consider SWM as having only 22 episodes where the boys are together and happy.

The girls on weibo only went a little crazy. I didn't see SWM on the main hot search but they were trending for a little while. Hopefully it was short enough where it didn't draw too much attention. 😅

#girding my loins for the angst and pain to come #but until then i will swoon over how cute and sweet these boys are #i seriously can't believe how obvious they are being about wu bi and su yu fucking #stay with me #stay with me the series #哥哥你别跑 #reaction time: swm

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lowkeyrobin · 7 months

Note

Hiii its the anon that asked for cellbit last time Back Again To Request More Cellbit!!

Maybe cellbit hyping up reader who just started streaming? :D (also i love your writing So Much omg)

hiii omg I missed you!! I love this prompt 🙏🙏 ; thank you for the compliment!! I appreciate it a lot 🫶🫶

CELLBIT ; stream starting soon

summary ; he hypes you up :)

warnings ; language, cringe, pet names (darling)

genre ; fluff

word count ; 737

masterlist

"Are you gonna stream tonight, darling?" Cellbit stands in the doorway, looking over at you while you sit at your desk, designing a new stream starting soon page.

You shrug, "Maybe. I wanna get this done first, animation was never my strong suit" You reply, clicking your tongue as you flip to the next frame to color.

He nods, stepping closer to get a better look, standing beside you. "Looks great so far"

You shrug again and mumble, "It's super choppy, I don't really like it"

He crouches down a bit, reaching your eye level, "I think it's amazing, and I love the color scheme. It doesn't matter if it's not over a thousand frames per second, Y/n/n. You should do whatever makes you happy and satisfied though, you dont have to stream because I suggested you might like it"

"I do want to, I just don't know what I'm doing and I don't know what people think of me" You say, placing your headphones down on the desk next to your keyboard so you can properly listen to him.

He tilts his head a bit, his facial muscles relaxing to talk to you a little more softly. "Well, I think, no, I know-" He says, correcting himself, "-that people think think you're a wonderful, kind, and most importantly, gorgeous person"

You're unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips as you reply to him. "Shut up, Cell"

"What? Why? Cause you're scared of the truth?" He teases, running a hand through his hair again.

"Nuh-uh"

"Yeah-huh!" He chuckles, "You're the most beautiful, caring, compassionate, truthful, and loyal person I've ever met. I, ever since I met you, have been convinced that some supernatural force sent you to me because you're the light of my life."

"Be quiet," You chuckle, hiding your face in your hands.

"No! You need to know how much your fans and I all love you." He smiles with a light chuckle, standing in between your legs as he wraps his arms around you, embracing you in a hug.

You accept the gesture, sitting forward in your chair a bit for him to not fall on top of you because of the uneven weight ratio as he was pushing back on your chair a bit before. He rubs your back as you hold on to him tightly, taking some deep breaths to calm yourself down a bit.

He pulls away once he hears you exhale for the last time and gives you a light smile. "Everyone adores you, at least I do, and you're gonna be an epic streamer just like yours truly." He giggles. "I do think you should put us in the Seedot art style in the corner, though"

"Oh my God, I should've thought of that! I knew it looked to blank! Thank you!"

He smiles, seeing you get to work on drawing the two of you for your new stream starting soon page. You animated a little bit of choppy movement and some hearts above you guys, floating so high that they popped at the top of the screen.

Once you finished, which he grabbed a nearby chair to watch you work on, he gave you a round of applause and a kiss on the cheek. He was trying to hype you up, also because you were planning to go live right after and play Jackbox with him, Quackity, Roier, Philza, and Charlie Slimecicle. You hadn't talked to them much, but you knew enough that they were all cool people, and you'd be happy enough to stream with them and get to know them and their humor some more.

"Told you it looks great." He cheesily smiles next to you, resting a hand on your shoulder as you sit back. "Do you need me to do a silly dance to make you a little more happy?"

You roll your eyes, staying silent as you cross your arms and pout. He stands up, turns your LED lights to the changing/multicolor setting, changes the tab to your Spotify, and plays a song to dance and sing along too. He spins your chair around and yells out compliments to you frequently before you start laughing with him, joining in on his antics.

"I'm hyping you up so much right now!" Cellbit smiles, spinning you around the room.

You laugh, "You sound like a Millennial using Gen-Z humor, stop!"

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #quackity x reader #qsmp x reader #cellbit x reader #cellbit #qsmp cellbit #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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crazylittlejester · 6 months

Note

To answer your question, I always like the idea of gender-bent Warriors hiding her gender to join the army in the place of someone he loves. Basically that scene in Mulan where she’s dressing as a soldier. The idea of cutting her hair is very appealing. Is it ok to make a mini fic?

This was a seriously fun prompt to write, and I really wanted to take it and make it a full fic, but I don’t have the time right now. I might do that some day to be honest, this wasn’t an idea that ever came to me before and I had a lot of fun!! Here you go! (440 words)

“No…” Link’s mother raised a shaking hand to cover her mouth, staring at the soldier in the doorway. “No, you already took my husband, I won’t let you take my son!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the man had the decency to at least look genuinely apologetic. “The king has ordered one man from every family. We need it, if we’re to win this war.”

Link held her little brother closer to her side, scowling at the soldier. “He’s only thirteen.”

He didn’t look much older than Link herself, but then again Hyrule’s soldiers never seemed old these days. They were loosing the war pretty badly, every family had someone they’d lost at this point, and Link would be damned if she let her little brother die like her father had. Not if she could help it. The kid had a broken arm and got scared away from home, there was no way Link was letting her brother go off to war.

She’d have to go in his place.

Link waited until the dead of night before sneaking down to the old cabinet where her father’s old armor was kept. It took her a minute to figure out how to put it on (she thought it’d be much easier, but those snaps and buckles were deceptively tricky), but she got it eventually. Link stood in front of the mirror and held her long braid in one hand. If she was taking her brother’s place, chopping it off would be a necessary step.

Without thinking twice, she grabbed the dagger she’d strapped to her belt and sliced through her hair. It felt a bit freeing, and she spent a few minutes cutting it from a choppy bob into something that looked neater. Satisfied with her work, she fluffed her golden curls a bit, and crept downstairs. She almost made it to the door but was stopped just before her hand reached the doorknob by a soft call from her mother.

“Link?”

“I’m sorry, Ma,” she smiled sadly, turning around. “I… I have to do this.”

Her mother spent just a short moment studying her face, taking in Link’s determined expression before she ran over and hugged her tightly.

“Hylia, you look just like your father,” her mother whispered.

Tears welled up in Link’s eyes, and she gave her mom a gentle squeeze. “I’ll come home, I swear.”

Her mother backed away to look at her one last time, reaching up to gently hold her daughter’s face.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Link nodded, giving her mother one last smile before heading out for real. She had no idea how much her life was about to change.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu wars #jes talks #jes ask #jes fic #jes mini fic

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otipe · 8 months

Text

Al-Haitham x Deaf Fem!Reader

University AU

[Part 1] [Part 2]

[Silence could be overcomed by gentle gestures and shy gazes; but only the strong one go beyond for a voice that has been lost to reach the ears of their beloved.]

— x — x — x — x — x — x — x — x —

You fall in love with Al-Haitham throughout the winter season.

The great growth of love and timidness when having him around increased the more you two spend time together—and the moment where you realized that what you felt for him went deeper than simple friendship was unknown, but it didn't lessen the impact upon the fact that it was real.

The revelation from such an affair surprises you once you go past the confusion and denial from falling in love with a man who keeps his heart locked away and under a mask of nonchalant. The fleeting thought that you were just confused was viable, since you’ve never felt this way prior, and so you tried to convince yourself to drop the subject and to not think about your friend that way anymore.

But when the little veil of deception that you placed upon yourself vanishes, slapping you across the face that yes, you were in love, it takes no time for the butterflies to swarm in your belly whenever you look his way or his name is mentioned through conversations.

To notice the sudden race of your heart when you are alone, when he helps you when you’re unable to focus, to the way he cares for your well-being in subtle yet obvious acts of kindness; all of it was the beginning of your doom.

Because despite forging a friendship throughout the times at the university, in light of recent news of your newfound love, your actions are led with shyness instead of confidence. Your demeanor changes when he is in the vicinity, and you can’t help the assaults your heart does when he looks at you so intensely or simply focuses on your being.

And that places you here in the library.

Al-Haitham is keeping himself busy with his books and Kaveh…

Kaveh acts like he’s none the wiser when you need him as a backup when interacting with Al-Haitham; ignoring your pleading gazes, fixing his shirt when you tug on the fabric, and even biting back a grimace when you squeeze his arm to catch his attention.

But everytime the bastard simply looks the other way with a pout, pretending that you both don't exist at the moment, and focuses on his papers instead of lending a helping hand.

A little nudge on your shoulder has your attention drifting towards Al-haitham, who raises a brow in questioning.

“What is it?” you sign, fingers trembling slightly.

“What do you need from him?” he asks. His hand movements are choppy and a bit aggressive, “I can help you.”

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment, fearful that he's witnessed your childish nagging at Kaveh. Shaking your head, you tap the notebook.

“Tomorrow we have a test. I want to make sure he's ready, that's all.”

“Are you sure?”

You give him a thumbs up, smiling, “I'll be okay! I've been tutored by the best student on campus, so I have nothing to fear!”

Al-Haitham seems satisfied with your reply, the shadow of a smile hovers over his lips before he schools his face back to his usual stoic expression and goes back to his book. His eyes skim through the paragraphs and quickly jolts things down he deems important in his own notebook.

You eye the stack of books he has next to him, two of them open and tossed to the side and the one he currently holds, keeping all his attention.

Idly, you think literature looks difficult; boring, even.

Reading books is not of your preference, unless romance and tragedy are the main topic, your interest regarding lectures are non-existent so you are easily amazed by his focus and full concentration on what he reads whatever the topic might be.

A vibration catches your attention, watching a notification pop-up in your phone that lays next to you on the table. Picking it up, Kaveh's name shows on the screen with an incomplete message that has you blushing on the spot.

Gingerly, you open the chat.

× Kaveh: You look like a creep staring at him ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ

× Me: I'm not staring!

× Kaveh: Yeah, sure- Even the librarian has noticed the hearts around you whenever he signs to you.

× Me: Shut up ;_;

Covering half of your face you glare at Kaveh, pouting at his teasing. He only gets to shrug and mouth an apology that’s not genuine with the smirk plastered across his face.

× Kaveh: :P

× Me: You are so mean for no reason :(

× Kaveh: I'm only stating facts. If you want it a secret, then KEEP it like a secret.

× Me: Stop paying attention to what I do! I know how to keep a secret!

× Kaveh: Yeah? Your eyes don't! ╰⁠(⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠ᗜ⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠)⁠➝

Kaveh is insufferable when he teases, pulling you out of your tasks and bothering you until you give out and have to physically make him shut up.

Since he is in close vicinity, you slap his arm lightly, signing furiously for him to stop annoying you so much and to pay attention to his homework and study.

His eyes roam your hands, trying to piece together what you say but unable to tie the words and hand signs to coherent sentences. Is clear from his confused expression he hasn't gotten half of what you said, and now he wears an apologetic smile that tells you everything.

“She said to stop fooling around, and keep your head in your studies, dunce.” Al-Haitham closes his book, clearly annoyed. “Don't bother her too much, Kaveh. She's got enough on her plate.”

Kaveh gasps, offended, “I'm not bothering her, am I?”

“Lower your voice,” he reprimands, “You are being annoying.”

They go back and forth for a while, and you cannot help but look bewildered between the two of them, confused and intrigued by whatever they're talking about.

Their mouths move too fast for you to interpret words into sentences, too fired up in their conversation—or argument, this looks like an argument—that they don't notice your curious stare.

Al-Haitham seems to mull over a thought, pondering whether to say what's on his mind or not. It seems to take a toll on him, sighing tiredly and briefly looking in your direction.

“She's clearly trying to study, and as her partner, shouldn't you try and help her out instead of fooling around?”

Kaveh raises a brow, confused at his choice of words.

“I’m a very good partner!” Is what he says a little too loudly. The librarian shushes him from across the room, glaring at their table and scowling, a finger on her lips. Kaveh bows his head in apology before continuing in a lower voice, “And I'm very helpful when I want to, thank you very much. You can even ask her, I’m a sweetheart.”

Kaveh notices the shift in attitude from Al-Haitham for a brief second, enough to surprise him when his scowls deepens and avoids eye contact to focus on the books on the table. He’s almost tempted to ask if his actions were what got to his nerves, but with the way he moves, uncomfortable and wary, he decides against it.

It becomes obvious something is going on when he starts packing his things without saying a word, closing the books and stashing them on his backpack slowly but with force behind every action.

A little taken aback by his sudden urge to leave the library, you stand up from your chair and begin closing your notebooks alongside him in a hurry.

None of them say anything while watching you pack up, eyes concentrated and precise actions to have your things in order. Kaveh purses his lips in contemplation and eyes Haitham stop dead on his tracks, regret flashing for a brief second on his face, but he doesn’t miss the fondness swimming in his green orbs.

“You don’t have to leave.” His expression softens ever so slightly, and he reaches for your wrist to catch your attention, “Stay.” He mouths slowly.

“Why?”

His eyes divert from you to Kaveh who looks at him with concern filled in his eyes, and he can’t help but sigh, scratching the back of his neck and unable to reason clearly. Taking his hand in yours, you tug slightly, getting his attention back to you.

“Don’t you want us here?” You ask.

“I have to leave,” he signs, “I forgot I have a study session today.”

Shaking your head, you tap your wrist, “There’s still two hours away from your meeting time.” Al-Haitham doesn’t flinch when your expression sours, “Why are you lying to me?”

“I'm not lying, the session time has moved.”

Liar. And the fact he's doing so right to your face with no shame is worrisome for he's never had a reason to.

Al-Haitham continues packing his things in silence under your scrutinized gaze. When you realize he won't say anything else to you nor Kaveh, you take a seat and watch him leave with a quick goodbye.

You are left staring at the closing doors of the library and with an emptiness at the pit of your stomach. Slowly crawling your insides, anxiety takes over your thoughts in quick succession about his actions and lack of communication with you two.

Was he upset over something? Did Kaveh say something? Did Al-Haitham say something? Are you at fault here?

You type in your phone before you can think further.

× Me: Did you two argue?

× Kaveh: No! He was scolding me for distracting you when it was the other way around >_> You get way too desperate when he talks to you.

You glare at him from the corner of your eyes, ignoring his last sentence.

× Me: But why did he leave?

× Kaveh: I don't know, maybe he just got upset over me being too loud? I'll talk to him later when he comes home, don't mind him. He always acts like a drama queen.

× Me: Are you sure?

Kaveh mulls over your question quietly.

Al-Haitham is one to never hold a grudge when they argue, but rather take his time to calm down before sitting down and talk like civilized people. And Kaveh would have assumed this was the case if it weren't for the uncommon timing to his reactions, which raises the question: What made him this upset?

× Kaveh: I'll talk to him later, don't worry :)

× Me: Okay, let me know if you both need anything! I don't like it when you two fight :(

Kaveh clutches the phone close to his heart and squeals loudly, fighting against his instincts to smother you in a big hug for how kind you were to him despite the clear favoritism you had for the one you crushed on.

From afar, you see the librarian standing from her seat, angry lines forming on her expression and marching towards you two with a determination that scares you deeply, freezing you on the spot.

You can't even warn your friend before she reaches him first.

“Kaveh, that's enough! Out of the library until you learn how to keep quiet!”

“What?!”

“Banned for a week! Out with you!”

— x — x — x — x — x — x — x — x — x — x — x —

Kaveh's expression at having the door of the library close shut on his face shouldn't be this amusing; but here you are, laughing with all your might and holding onto the wall for support because you can't hold back anymore after the last tense couple of minutes.

He's saying something, probably angry words at the ban and you for making fun of him, but you could care less with how much your stomach was hurting from the laughing.

“Stop!” he whines, tugging your sleeves with a pout on his face. “This is not funny!”

Cleaning the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes, you apologize between giggles, fingertips down the bridge of your nose and an open palm running a straight line down your chest.

“You are mean,” he mouths slowly, pulling you alongside him onto the halls of the university to walk away.

“Sorry,” you sign again, not genuine enough for him to believe you. “I think we both need a break. How about we go for dessert?”

Kaveh blinks down confused, “I understood the break, the last thing I didn’t get.”

“D. E. S. S. E. R. T,” you spell each letter slowly. He nods in understanding.

“Oh, yes!” He perks up excitedly, “Oh, oh! We can go to that coffee shop you were talking about yesterday. The one a few blocks away, yeah?”

Happy at the prospect of some sweet dessert and a relaxing afternoon, Kaveh walks with new vigor and a goal in mind with you in tow, forgetting completely about his public humiliation and entertained like a little kid with a treat.

He holds your hand, smiling brightly back at you, and you return the grin with the same feeling of content filling your chest.

But even when you've settled down at the coffee shop; drinking milkshakes and eating cheesecakes between laughs and messaging each other, at the back of your head was the lie of Al-Haitham still present and bothering.

And perhaps it was selfish of you to have him roaming your mind when Kaveh is trying to lift your spirits and cheer you up to the best of his abilities, when it should be the other way round.

And he notices. When he looks you from the corner of his eyes and his fingers hovers above the keyboard from his phone, you cannot help the embarrassed blush and hesitation whether to bring up the topic or not.

× Kaveh: Okay, I can't do this anymore. Spill.

× Me: …

× Me: What do you mean?

× Kaveh: >_> Don't play dumb.

× Me: (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

× Kaveh: That's adorable, I'm stealing it.

× Kaveh: Okay, girl, spill now or else.

× Me: Is just… I'm worried. Al-Haitham was acting very strange, and I believe we're missing something crucial that caused his distress.

× Kaveh: I think you're overthinking way too much, dear. Perhaps it might be your love for him talking.

The punch you throw at him doesn't hurt, he knows that, and yet, he feigns dramatically that you've broken all the bones on his arm.

× Me: You're so annoying!!! Stop!!

× Kaveh: :P

× Me: I just want to make sure we're okay. I don’t know why he lied :(

× Kaveh: How about this; I'll talk to him later today and let you know how it goes. If he is upset or anything, I can solve the problem easily.

You nod, extending your arm on top of the table to reach for his hand. Kaveh doesn't take long to grab your hand and smile soothingly.

“Everything will be okay,” he says slowly. “Now that I think about it…”

You don't catch the last thing he says, watching him go back to his phone and type quickly with a determined expression.

× Kaveh: Okay so I've been thinking…

× Me: Rare occasion.

× Kaveh: Shut up! Look, I've been thinking that it would be a good idea for you to ask Al-Haitham on a date.

× Me: Huh? No?

× Kaveh: You should try asking him before he goes back to Sumeru on the spring break.

× Kaveh: I've heard he's reuniting with some old friend of his and, you know how it goes, maybe a childhood love might bloom.

× Me: :((((((

× Kaveh: Okay, sorry, maybe not that. But I do think you should try to ask him out, if only to give yourself a chance.

× Me: I don't want to ruin things between us. I like our friendship, and would love to keep it instead of jeopardizing it.

× Kaveh: That's such a big word for you!

× Me: Kaveeeehhhhhhh :((((((

× Kaveh: Okay! Sorry! But think about it if you can. I'd love for my friends to date each other :( And I believe he won't say no. No one would be able to resist such a cutie like you (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

Oh, this man.

Whilst it is a wistful wish to date the one you fell in love with, his feelings on the matter is what makes you hesitate. This is not the first time you've thought about it, and won't be the last until you gather the courage to confess.

And Al-Haitham won't hate you if you say what you really feel, nor will he stop being your friend; but the lingering feeling of rejection will always be present and mocking you whenever you see him.

Archons know how long it will take for you to heal from the whole ordeal if he really says no.

× Me: I'll think about it (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

× Kaveh: I'm going to pretend to believe you. BUT just know if he breaks your heart, I'll kick his ass into the stratosphere (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ And that's a threat.

You giggle behind your hand, eyes filled with mirth and joy from his encouragement. Kaveh feels like he has accomplished something good today if your happiness is anything to go by.

× Kaveh: Let's go home, it's getting a little late. I'll walk you back to the dorms (⁠づ⁠￣⁠ ⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠づ

True to his words, he keeps you company the way back with both your hands clasped together the entire time. He would sometimes twirl you around to get you to laugh, sometimes would lay his arm around your shoulders to squeeze you affectionately when crossing the road; Kaveh keeps his touch present and as a supporting weight when you reach the building and kiss his cheek goodnight.

He waves back at you before you close the door, leaving him alone with his own worries and thoughts swirling in his mind.

The trek back home wasn't far, and it gave him plenty of time to think about his course of action before sitting down with Al-Haitham and talk about whatever happened earlier that day.

And if both are in the mood to keep the conversation going, he will try and prod information from him about his thoughts about you.

Perhaps he can be the cupid between you two?

‘I just want her to be happy,’ is what he thinks, sighing tiredly.

Anything for you.

— x — x — x — x — x — x — x — x — x — x — x —

Kaveh calls you a few days later.

The vibration from your phone isn't enough to wake you up, sleeping right past it until midday when you realize you've slept way too long and have wasted precious hours of the day.

It takes a while for you to read your notifications and bark a laugh at Kaveh's multiple apologies for calling you when he knows you cannot hear.

It doesn't offend you in the slightest, rather you find it hilarious because his enthusiasm knows no bonds to have forgotten something so obvious.

× Me: Miraculously I can hear again! What is it? Let me hear your voice!

It doesn't take long to see him online and typing already. You can even imagine the worried frown between his eyebrows and his pout in nervousness before he sends a message.

× Kaveh: In my defense!!!!!!!! Nothing…

× Kaveh: I'm dumb, I'm sorry.

× Me: It was a silly mistake. If anything, I find it rather amusing.

× Kaveh: This is not for you to be making fun of me!

× Me: Why not? I think it's hilarious.

× Kaveh: ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽

× Me: What the fuck is that.

× Kaveh: Oh so now is not funny anymore HUH

× Me: Kaveh that’s the most disgusting kaomoji you’ve ever sent. I’m sending you to prison.

× Kaveh: You're just jealous you'll never be him.

× Me: THANK GOD

× Kaveh: Ksdksngkdf ANYWAY!! Listen, I talked to Al-Haitham and we're good. He was annoyed I was being too loud and rather leave than start an argument with so many people around.

× Kaveh: You know how he is, a calm person and all. He's okay, I'm okay, and no, he's not mad at you.

× Kaveh: Sooooo, want to come and grab dinner later? We can order take-out and maaaaaybeeeee, just maaaaaybe help me study for my next test (⁠๑⁠´⁠•⁠.̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠`⁠๑⁠)

Tempting, you think.

It's almost time for lunch, and you’ve spent most of your day sleeping away rather than being productive with the short time you have between classes, studies and exams. If you were to finish your duties before five and take a shower around six, you might be able to get there by seven or around that time to have dinner with them.

Make lunch, clean the bathroom, wash your clothes and hang them to dry, clean your room a little bit. Humming to yourself, you think you might be able to make it on time and spend the night at their apartment without a hitch.

× Me: Okay, I see no problems :) I'll be there by 7. Is it okay if I crash to sleep there?

× Kaveh: OH MY GOD YOU ARE AN ANGEL, AND YES OFC!! We can have a slumber party after studying. I literally cannot study alone because I get easily distracted and Al-Haitham doesn't want to help me (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

× Me: Kaveh… you never want to listen to him.

× Kaveh: That's because he's boring! That man isn't build for teaching ಠ⁠∀⁠ಠ

× Me: Try to keep yourself alive by the time I come, okay? Study as best as you can and I'll help out with the rest.

× Kaveh: You're a real lifesaver! Let me know when you are on your way and send your location to keep track of you, alright?

× Me: Okay! Don’t forget to eat lunch :)

And that's how you have your day booked.

To know both Kaveh and Al-Haitham were okay with each other was enough to feel relief wash throughout your entire system, as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders and now you can easily breath without guilt nagging you. Despite the question mark as to why he opted to lie back then, you were happy to overlook it and focus on the good outcome.

Your day goes by with you running this way to the other to get things done and ready before you leave. There is the lingering thought of your conversation with Kaveh from a few days ago while you finish your tasks, entertaining the idea and even considering it with how joyful you were feeling.

You only hope that motivation stays until you arrive at their home.

Once on the streets, with your bag full of books and a change of clothes, you let Kaveh know you are on your way but don't receive an immediate reply.

Not even when you reach the apartment complex, greet the receptionist and take the elevator, there is no sign of your friend and you wonder if something bad has happened for him to ignore you completely.

You decide to message Al-Haitham instead, despite the butterflies roaming your entire being and warmness spreading on your cheeks.

× Me: Hey, is Kaveh okay? I sent him a message before coming but he hasn't answered yet :(

It doesn’t take long for him to reply.

× Al-Haitham: Hey, door is open.

The reply is ominous without the intention to be.

You open the door bracing for the worst.

The books scattered on his dinner table should have been enough to disperse any doubt of a catastrophe. Mouth slightly agape and surprised to see the desperation on Kaveh's face when he realizes you’ve arrived, and sure enough, the calamity seems to be himself with how exhausted he looks.

“Help,” he signs, and you can't help but laugh after a long pause. From all the words you've taught him, that one stuck to him like a life liner.

Nodding, you clean up the table and stack the books to the side to make room for you. Kaveh helps bring some books to the sofa, giving you enough space to open your notebooks and notes to start revising what he hasn't checked yet.

A buzz from the phone startles you, picking it up to see a message from Kaveh.

× Kaveh: What do you want to eat? I'll order now so we can focus ←⁠(⁠>⁠▽⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ

× Me: Hmmm, do you want Japanese food? I've been craving katsudon lately.

× Kaveh: Oh, yeah sure! I'll order ramen then. Let me ask stinky ass man what he wants and we're ready to go.

× Me: Don’t call him that >:(

× Kaveh: :P

Kaveh leans back and yells down the hallway, “Hey, Haitham! Wanna eat ramen, or sushi? I don't know whatcha want. We’re going to order from Wangmins.”

Al-Haitham's head pops out of his room, frowning deeply and seemingly annoyed.

“I can hear you just fine, no need for yelling.” he walks out, shaking his head. “I don't want anything, thank you.”

You perk up when he waves at you, returning the greeting with a little more eagerness than you anticipate. But he seems to not mind, the shadow of a smile gently hovering over his lips and a nod of his head is enough to have you kicking your feet in excitement.

Nudging Kaveh's arm, you point at your friend's clothes, curiosity filling your eyes when he walks past the dinner table and straight to the mirror.

‘He looks rather handsome today.’ your eyes follow him from head to toe, blushing for ogling so shamelessly.

Kaveh whistles loudly, noticing Al-Haitham's fit. He seems to have dressed more elegantly than ever, brushing his hair in front of the mirror next to the door and smelling his cologne swift in the air and heavy on the nose.

“You look way too fancy today, what's the occasion?” he asks absently.

“I'm going out with Nilou.”

Kaveh freezes upon his words, blinking slowly and eyes going from where you're sitting to Al-Haitham, unaware of the shift in mood. You nudge him quietly, awaiting for a response to fulfill your curiosity.

“A date.” he spells, and he regrets doing so when he notices your expression break slightly.

Oh.

“Man, that's um…that's new.” Kaveh scratches the back of his neck, surprised by the news. “Didn't know you were interested in that.”

Al-Haitham shrugs nonchalantly, checking his phone every few seconds and fixing the collar of his turtleneck, “She asked me, and I said yes. What's so weird about that?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing! Just never expected it from you…” He coughs awkwardly, not knowing how to continue the conversation, “What time are you coming home?”

“I don't know, probably late. Don't wait for me.” Grabbing his keys and the wallet from the table, he bids goodbye over his shoulder before closing the door behind him with an echoing thud.

For a couple of minutes, he doesn’t say anything in fear of breaking the dreaded atmosphere Al-Haitham has left behind in the awakening of the news of his date.

Kaveh is fiddling with his pen nervously, unable to look you in the eyes because he knows the expression he’s wearing is neither pleasant nor helpful to the situation. Because just like you, he lingers in this limbo of uncertainty that he can’t seem to comprehend.

He idly wonders if he should have said anything at all. This outcome is not one he predicted nor thought possible in his wildest imagination; and the fact that you're now hurt because of his words and encouragement is making things worse for him.

The fault doesn’t fall on either of you, and Kaveh is aware you won’t hold this against him because feelings are out of anyone's control

And at the end, even if heartbreak is disheartening and ignites horrible emotions from within your soul, it is better to know it now than later.

Losing a battle that has never begun hurts more than you’ve ever thought.

When the first sobs go past your sealed lips, Kaveh's resolve breaks at once.

There is not a second of hesitation from him when he tosses his things to the side to cradle you between his arms and you latch onto him as your anchor.

The reciprocation serves to let him know this was the right action to take, losing stabilization that makes both of you slide down to the floor clumsily, but still in each other's arms.

Kaveh tries to fix you on his lap to let you rest comfortably, hand running down your back in soothing motions while you cry quietly against his chest.

It goes on for a long time, but he doesn't let go of you for a second.

He can’t even say anything to make you feel better and it's frustrating. Not because of you, but because Kaveh isn’t good enough to communicate that everything will be alright. You don’t need that idiot who doesn’t realize how wonderful you are and it’s missing it out for a person who isn't worth the time—no offense to Nilou, she's a nice person, but you are more important than any other woman.

Biting his lip, he runs his fingers through your hair softly while you cry. He gets tangled easily between the fringes of hair, and Kaveh panics slightly when he gets stuck and is unable to detangle without causing a mess or pulling your roots. But when he hears you whine, and break a little laugh at his attempt at comforting you and messing up, he smiles softly, kissing the top of your head gently.

You tap the arm that’s holding your waist, catching his attention and making some distance to see your face. Kaveh frowns at your expression, cleaning a stray tear and cupping your cheek, thumb running soothingly under your eye.

With trembling fingers, you start spelling slowly to him, “I’m sorry.”

Kaveh shakes his head, smiling reassuringly at you. His reply is slow, too, vocalizing every syllable, “Don’t be.”

“My fault.”

It's not your fault, he wants to say, but shortens it with a shake of his head.

Conflicting emotions swirl inside of you, each one unable to place a name or intensity, that sends you into an overwhelming state of sadness.

Never in your life have you experienced something this strong that could make you ill with a snap of your fingers, rendering you weak and detached from your reality.

It still feels like a fever dream when you think about Al-Haitham trying to court someone, the ugly jealousy hurling inside your chest and your brain creating unnecessary images that do nothing to help your case nor fragile feelings.

Overthinking has always been your strong suit, despite trying to get rid of that bad habit for a long time; and it shows clearly that’s still ever so present when Kaveh shifts from under you, his big palm patting your head with care, and the tears well up in your eyes rather quickly with his show of affection because you selfishly wish this was Al-Haitham.

Falling in love is not as easy as romance books make it seem to be. It doesn't come with step by step instructions to help you get over the one you love, much less how to get the person of your affections when nothing seems to go your way.

The journey through the lands of unrequited love is a heavy one, one where you couldn't bring yourself to fathom severing the ties that bound you to him, even when the chance of Al-Haitham still hurting you unconsciously existed. Your love, though hopelessly one-sided, was a testament to the depth of your emotions—it’s bittersweet to try to find comfort in the idea that you might heal in the future, that you will get over him, but it lingers for a brief second before it vanishes completely.

And you rather be hopeless in love than to lose this cherished feeling you’ve cared for a long time.

Your brain runs down a mile, thought after thought, tears after tears, until you are left bare and dry from crying and fall asleep in Kaveh's arms.

#I started watching sign of affection and thought it fit AlHaitham perfectly so here is my rendition(?) to that anime #I didnt like al-haitham until that anime and now i like him #al haitham x reader #genshin impact fanfic #al haitham x you #genshin fic #otip writes

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scribbling-dragon · 1 year

Text

breaking the ice

summary:

“What have we got here?” The man grins, brushing closer to him, but not quite close enough to touch. He tilts his head, hair laying flat against his head. Sparks shower out, cyan and orange dotting his clothes. He turns his arms over, admiring the pattern they leave behind before they fade again and the man is in front of him once more.

“What are you doing?” Martyn asks, the fifth time the man has teleported to be beside him, no longer jolting in surprise at the sudden shower of sparks and appearance of the man beside him.

(ao3 link)

(2,714 words)

If Martyn could shiver, he’d probably have shuddered his way out of his own skin by now. But he can't, meaning he’s left to continue floating miserably upwards, accepting his fate of continuing ever upwards, never to escape from the clutches of the sky.

He won't freeze, either, when he gets beyond the sphere of warmth that keeps everything else alive. The lack of air might bring a more significant challenge, but he might just be able to freeze himself entirely solid.

He slumps a little at the thought, though his slumping does very little to stop him from rising several feet higher. The air here is a little thinner, the tips of mountains just fading from his view as they grow smaller and smaller below him. His hands haven't begun to tingle with the tell-tale sign of the effect wearing off. His veins continue to buzz with the magic coursing through them, and, not for the first time, he curses his own curiosity. And then the stupid geyser that had seemed like a lot of fun at first- but now, this.

Something pops behind him, and he twists, hood falling in front of his face as he turns. He pushes it back, just in time to watch a man disappear in a puff of particles, orange and cyan swirling around his face. He blinks, sneezing as one lands on his nose. He jerks with the motion, spinning halfway round in the air.

The man reappears a moment later, particles bursting outwards from a previously empty bit of air. He grins up at him, seeming to hover in place for a moment as he hovers. Martyn continues to rise in the air, but he twists to look down at this new person.

Whatever was keeping the man afloat seems to disappear, as he plummets. Martyn shouts something- no words actually make it through his brain, coming out in a scramble of noise as the man drops like a stone. He pops back into existence beside Martyn’s head, hair floating around his face, stirred by an invisible breeze.

“What are you doing?” Martyn asks, the fifth time the man has teleported to be beside him, no longer jolting in surprise at the sudden shower of sparks and appearance of the man beside him.

“Watching you,” the man answers simply, twisting about in the air casually, as though there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, like, maybe on the ground? “You seem to have gotten yourself in a predicament, huh?” The man has an accent, smoothing over his words as he watches Martyn with something close to fascination.

“Yeah, nothing like endlessly floating and waiting for everything to be over.”

The man laughs at that, teleporting twice more before he stops. The teleporting cuts his laugh up, makes it more choppy, disorganising it and spreading it apart. It’s odd, to watch this man disappear and reappear, floating around Martyn as though he’s the one with levitation.

“Do you trust me?” The man asks, once he’s managed to stop laughing. Martyn didn't even think it was that funny.

“Why would I trust someone I don't even know the name of?”

The man’s face scrunches up, the bands on his arms pulsing for a moment. Martyn watches them move with fascination - he had thought they were tattoos before, circular designs decorating the man’s arms. But they move, as though with minds of their own.

“Why would I help someone I don't even know the name of?” The man counters. He reappears on Martyn’s other side, forcing him to turn and face the man-without-a-name. “Why do we do anything?”

“Right, thanks,” he pushes the man slightly away from himself, conscious of how close they had begun to drift. The man pops up on his other side, legs crossed beneath himself as he watches Martyn. “Don't exactly need a second crisis on top of the current one.”

“A crisis that could very easily be solved,” the man smiles, “if you trusted me.”

Martyn watches him for several long moments, which is made increasingly harder with how he seems to enjoy popping in and out of existence, twisting in a circle around Martyn, forcing him to follow along with his actions.

“Fine,” he grits out after several long moments, causing the man’s smile to get even wider, the points of his teeth becoming more obvious as he leans closer; the grin is almost cheshire-like in nature. “I trust you.”

“Fantastic!” The man disappears again, and Martyn’s stomach drops, considering that maybe this had just been something for the man to toy with, and that he actually wouldn't be able to help in any kind of way.

He scowls to himself, limbs going loose and relaxed as he slumps over in frustration. It does nothing, the endless force continuing to carry him upwards, towards the gaping maw of the void above. It’s slowly widening, opening in greeting as it prepares to swallow him whole. Maybe it’ll even kill him, if the cold won't.

Air brushes over the side of his face, stirring the short hairs there and causing him to shiver. The reaction is involuntary, as is the way his mouth opens slightly at the feeling, a silent breath escaping him.

“Hold on for just a moment,” that same voice breathes into his ear, a hand slipping under his arm to press against his chest; the heel of his palm digs in just below his heart. He can feel the thumping of it vibrate against the man’s hand. A warmth blooms out from there, heating his skin to where he’s almost convinced he’s burning alive.

And then he’s gone.

He’s left feeling weightless, still lifting higher into the sky. Where it had been easy to breathe before, suddenly, now, the air refuses to enter his lungs. It leaves him with a heaving chest, pressing a hand where the man had just touched him. It’s still warm, his heart still thumping hard enough to be felt, hard enough that he worries that his ribs might bruise.

He digs his fingers into the skin there, looks down. But the fabric isn’t charred, no blackening or curling edges of fabric to hint at why that warmth seems to have wormed its way under his skin- why it now seems to be intent on cooking him alive.

His coat is too warm for him, claustrophobic around him in a way it’s never been before. He curls his hand into it, feeling uncomfortable with this sudden heat when it’s the opposite of everything he’s meant to be. His fingers dig into his chest, curling into his skin, as though he could rip this sudden warmth from himself.

He curls a little tighter into himself, feeling the steady beat of his heart against his palm. It’s reassuring, something to measure and breathe beside, to confirm that he can still breathe, that the air isn't thin enough to send him into light-headedness.

Just as everything balances itself back out again, something tugs in his chest. It’s soft at first, a small, experimental tug, as though testing the waters. Whatever it is, the test is deemed successful, as the grip tightens and then yanks.

He stumbles, hunching over as a dizzying wave of nausea washes over him, hands braced against his knees. He sinks a little further down as the dizziness doesn't go away, and his vision turns black and watery- wavering slightly, like a shitty video.

The ground beneath him is solid- the ground below him.

He gasps out on the next breath, blinking in an attempt to clear his vision faster, glancing around at the field he’s currently sat in, and the house a few feet ahead of him.

And he’s alone.

There’s nothing around but a few chickens, all a safe distance away from him, clucking happily to themselves as they root around in the grass for seeds and worms. He stares at them for longer than he probably needs to, watching them move around; watching the way the wind ruffles their feathers; watches the way two of them step towards each other, heads jittery as they eye each other up, before moving onwards again; watches the way that a butterfly lands on a stem of grass, the way it bends beneath the weight, the way it flutters its wings once before drifting off again.

“Nice, isn't it?”

Martyn jumps at the sudden voice, stumbling up and to his feet, almost toppling over with the momentum and lack of weightlessness as he stands. The man grabs him by the arms, easing him back upwards, continuing to hold onto him, even once he’s managed to get his feet under himself again.

“What the hell,” Martyn says. He pulls his arms back out of the man’s grip, taking a small step back, putting distance between them, no matter how small that distance actually is. “Do you get a kick out of scaring people?”

“Yes, actually.” The man’s head tilts to the side, and he’s grinning again. He’s watching Martyn, eyes dragging over him as he takes in every bit of him. “Only a few people ever hear me coming, and even then they don't know where I am.”

“That’s mean.”

“I could have left you up there,” the man’s face flattens back out. The rings around his arms drop to his wrists, rattling around the bone there like bangles before they come to a halt, clanking against each other as the man takes a step to the side.

He reappears behind Martyn, looking him over there. “You even have a tail,” he comments, and Martyn turns, still a little unsteady on his feet but pulling himself away when the man goes to support him again. “What are you?”

“Don't you think it’s a little rude to ask that?” Martyn responds, crossing his arms. Something about this man sets him slightly off-kilter, not certain on how he’s supposed to act when faced with someone he doesn't even know the name of. “I don't even know your name.”

“Scott,” the man grabs his hand and shakes it, “pleasure to meet you…?”

“Martyn,” he responds, when the man - Scott - lets his voice trail off meaningfully. “It’s still rude to ask what someone is.”

“I've just never seen anyone like you before,” Scott says, still circling around him. Like a shark circling its prey. The comparison does nothing to ease Martyn’s nerves. His fingers feel too stiff to even think about holding a sword right now. “The hooves and antlers made me think deer of some kind, but the grey and blue threw me off a little. And then you were just so cold when I touched you. Like you had ice running through your veins. And it’s waaay too hot for you to be wearing that coat right now, but you're doing it anyway?”

“You some kind of expert?”

“No, but I have been around the block,” Scott tilts his head to the side, popping in and out of space as he reappears next to Martyn, stretching up to peer at his antlers, a hand hovering just above his shoulder, as though for balance. “Seen plenty of people wandering about, some lost some not, others simply exploring. Some friendly…some not.”

“I can't see how anyone could dislike you,” he says. “You're so forward with information and understanding of people’s personal space.”

“All you had to do was say,” Scott says, stepping back and looking at him with his unfairly pretty eyes. “And there was hardly any time to tell you anything up there, I was constantly playing catch-up and toying with how far I could fall before teleporting to you again.”

“You could tell me now.”

“Alright!” Scott chirps, “Pleasure to meet you, strange ice man, I am Scott, the lovely and local transporter, at your service. And I don't even charge for use of those services,” Scott grins at him, as though any of that was charming. And- alright, maybe some of it was a little charming, in a weird sort of way. Like when you found a feral cat in the area near your house and thought it was quite sweet in its violent, insane little way.

He even does a little bow, bending himself at the waist and looking up at him from beneath his hair.

“Alright, alright,” he huffs a laugh despite himself. “I'm a chillager.”

“A chillager?” Scott pops back into his personal bubble with a flash of sparks, peering closer at him. “Are you sure? You certainly don't look like one I've ever met before…”

Martyn thinks he’s been quite controlled up until this point. He really, really thinks he has, actually. And, at this point, Scott is deserving of whatever Martyn serves to him. He closes his hand into a fist, yankwing downwards, feeling the water vapour in the air around them rapidly condensing and freezing.

The snow dumps on top of them with little mercy, large chunks of ice rolling further out. Martyn stares at the small mound of snow he’s created, considering that he’s maybe done a little too much this time, pulled slightly too much water into his control.

He watches the snow. The snow that has entirely swamped Scott, almost drowning him beneath it. He can't see hair nor hide of the other man. So he rocks back on his heels and waits. And then waits a little longer.

And then a little longer.

A small thread of anxiety begins to curl in his stomach - what if teleporters are extremely vulnerable to cold? He’s never met a teleporter before, will it be his fault if he’s accidentally just murdered the guy? What if he’s the last of his kind- he’s never met a teleporter before, that’s gotta be for a reason, right? What if they're all dead, and he’s just managed to kill the last of the teleporter species.

He digs his hands into the snow, shovelling it out of the way quickly, digging deeper and berating himself for dumping so much snow on top of the man- his mother would kill him if she knew what he’s just done. Exercising control and restraint is very important. All of which do not include dumping snow on a guy, even if he was really annoying.

He brushes against something solid within the snow, something that moves when he touches it. He heaves some more snow out of the way, coming face to face with a grinning Scott. The man’s hair is damp and plastered against his face from the snow, but he’s still grinning. Doesn't look even a little bit hurt.

He’s leaned over Scott, looking over his face for any small winces of pain, before he can even think about it. Maybe he just has a grin constantly plastered on his face, or something, and so he can't show pain or cold.

“Aw,” Scott sits up, snow cascading from his very bare shoulders. He doesn't even look cold. “Were you worried about me?”

Martyn scowls at him, considering how much more snow he might be able to dump on him with the significantly depleted water vapour around them. Definitely still enough to bury him again.

His silence is apparently enough of a response as Scott’s grin grows further, sharp teeth glinting under the light. “You know I could just teleport myself out, right?” He asks, a laugh beginning to bubble under his voice.

Actually, screw whatever his mother says. He dumps more snow on the guy, patting a hand against it to solidify it a little more, pack it in a little tighter.

Scott continues to laugh, even if it is slightly more muffled now. Martyn scowls at the mound of snow, hoping that he freezes to death a little quicker.

Except he doesn't, really, even if Scott teleporting behind him makes him reconsider the whole swearing off on murder attempts. He could make an exception, just this once.

#juno.writes #new life smp #nlsmp #martyn inthelittlewood #inthelittlewood #new life smp fic #newlife scott #newlife martyn #scott smajor #mean gills #majorwood #trafficshipping

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