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thelunaticghost · 11 months

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xvn fic recs !!

i have been meaning to do this for a while : mostly because fic recs are fun to compile and also thee seems to be a BIG shortage of any fic rec posts!! so here are some fics i have enjoyed over the years!! ofc this list is non exhaustive please note the ratings of each fic and heed the tags before reading! sorry, that i am putting in the shorter summary

anyway!! feel free to put in more fic recs too!! :D

End OTW Racism | over the edge of all our knowings by merthurlin [ G, 10,146 words , 1/1 ]

Years down the line, after the whole business with Lumine and her brother has been concluded, Venti decides to go on a world tour. He sends Xiao letters.

merthurlin got me into xiaoven so ofc my list starts with her fic! this is just so so sweet and even if its not necessarily fluffy there is a warmth to the writing it is a comfort read for me! i recommend every work by her (regardless of fandom). though in xvn End OTW racism | never dreamed of nobody like you is another excellent fic!

nocturne by yanrans [ T, 34,540 words, 4/4 ]

In which Venti sells magical music boxes, Xiao is his unwitting customer, and there is absolutely, definitely nothing more to it at all.

modern au where venti is - a scammer? - i mean a music box seller and xiao is just a regular guy and and. its funny and delightful and absolutely breath taking. i wouldnt elaborate more so as not to spoil anything further but the fic has many unexpected surprises in it! yanrans is another writer i definitely recommend to check out more! their writing style is very flamboyant and poetic.

what hides in neon shadow by morii_tea [ T, 7,547 words, 1/1 ]

In which Xiao is a cyborg, Venti is a thief, and the glittering city of Teyvat hides more secrets than they’re prepared to find out.

its so rare to see morally grey venti is potrayed (even though he isnt v morally grey but still. xiao having to remembering that venti isnt as honourable as he appears is yesssss wohoo). this fic has some thrilling action and a v fun cyberpunk world!! i wish it was longer but it is v exciting nevertheless

every morning in the dark by magicites [ M, 77,124 words, 34/34 ]

Stuck in a time loop where he succumbs to his karmic debt, Xiao struggles to see the point in moving forward. Venti struggles to save him.

READ THE TAGS!!! character death and suicidal thoughts are two major warnings. but DAMN this fic it's just so. SO FULL of everything WRONG with xiao!! and venti too but such a GREAT angst fic!! it gets everything so Right. magicites also happened to have written one of my most favourite genshin fic too :] and if you havent read her other works!! you are missing out!!

the half-life of the yaksha is absolute by GStK [ G, 1,000 words, 1/1 ]

Venti digs his thumbs in to keep open the wound but it is too late His gaze snaps over to the teal essence dancing over Xiao’s fingers. Now all those words will belong to him And Venti will belong to him, only.

READ THE TAGS!! now that i have went into the time loop fic ofc i have to mention the beautiful corrupt xiao prose. the imagery is flowery and grotesque!

foreigner's god by smallghosts [ T, 3,818 words, 1/1 ]

Lord Barbatos falls asleep for a few hundred years. Xiao copes with his absence in strange ways.

a pre-canon fic where xiao becomes - in a way - a worshipper? it's SO GOOD. its about the yearning!!!!!!!!! SCREAMS i dont think i have to explain further

love me like you do by Limerancy [ T, 3,000 words, 1/1 ]

They aren’t the kind of friends that touch.

TOUCH STARVED AND TOUCH AVERSE XIAO!!!!!! this fic makes me a lil bit feral. a little unhinged. i absolutely enjoy reading about the yearning , the desire JUST!!!! AAAA. this writer also writes v fluffy modern au one shots!!! so be sure to check them out too :)

The Kissing Tree by Princeliest [ G, 7,581 words, 2/2 ]

Venti kisses Xiao, and Xiao does not understand why.

VENTI COMMITMENT ISSUES!!!!! as much as i adore reading xiao angst, venti angst is still something i love seeking out and its a tragedy that its not explored enough in this ship :c but anyway!!! such amazing characterization and exploration!! princeliest is one of fav genshin writers and this fic delivers!

wishing on dandelions all of the time by OedipusOctopus [ T, 8,270 words, 1/1 ]

When Venti first catches sight of the swords artfully hung on the wall of his new roommate's bedroom, he regrets putting up the sublease on Craigslist. Firmly believing this guy is a total weirdo, Venti is more surprised than anyone when he realizes the total weirdo is actually adorable. It's not against some invisible Roommate Code to dream about kissing your roommate, right?

ofc there is a classic roommate au fic!! this was one of my most favourite fic from last years xvn week: its hilarious and silly and just a perfect relaxing read!! the characterization and their banter is so entertaining i admit i have read this multiple times!

Where Words Fail by kavvueh [ T, 27,926 words, 11/12 ]

"You're Barbatos," Xiao repeats breathlessly. The young man in front of him nods. "Yep." "But..." Xiao cuts himself off and tries again. "You're the God of songs and poetry." The Anemo Archon nods his head sagely. "More or less." Xiao fixes Lord Barbatos with the most incredulous look he can manage. "... You're failing Music Theory."

this fic is such a delight!! it has some light background lore, some silly shenanigans, miscommunications, pinning - a truly fun mixture! the fic is v light hearted but written with a lot of tenderness. i am v excited to see its conclusion!

what queer sins stain thy soul by Anonymous [ M, 3,232 words, 1/1 ]

In which Xiao, long-established asexual, learns that identity is not as stable as he’d like to believe.

there is some explicit things in it (in non explicit way) i believe religious guilt is one of the best flavouring to xvn. it is an under-explored area in this ship imo and this fic not only has that but also!!! asexuality !!!!!! this fic so so personal and its exploration of desire that gets to me a lot

unholy virtues by morphasia [ E, 17,065 words, 6/6 ]

In exchange for his body in more ways than one, Venti summons a demon to reclaim something that has been stolen from him. It's a just contract. That's all it's supposed to be. That's all it was ever supposed to be.

READ THE TAGS!!! this fic truly went creature/creature. this au is just so fascinating and funny in a twisted way (but not bad). this fic isnt for everyone though but it is definitely worth the shot.

#luna rambles #genshin impact #xiaoven #venxiao #thats all i think ?#anyway this made me realize that i forget to bookmark so many fics.....#whoops #and also that i tend to like fics on how much i like venti's characterization. hehe #but yeah this is non exhaustive list! if someone wants to add they can ofc! sorry for my over commentary #and even though i repeat it in the post itself 13804 times: check out other works by the writers!!!#i wanted to include more but. but the post is so long already you know? like i couldve done a shorter format BUT AAAAAA #i could idk it's just not. the same #making such posts is just a destress activity to me tbh

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jreads · 1 year

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Unexpected Constellations (Part 12)

Rating: M for dark(er)(ish?) themes

Word Count: 5.5K

Warnings: Warnings: Angst, Mentions of blood, Canon-level violence, Dark themes, Foul language, (small emetophobia again i am so sorry), But genuinely the themes are dark today, please proceed with caution.

A/N: Nothing to say here today except i love you. I am in the headspace of not doing my thoughts justice in writing. The story is good in my brain, please take my word for it. If you're enjoying the fic, kindly consider a reblog; it's really the only way my work gets out there :) Hope everyone is staying healthy and happy. Comment on this post or the Masterlist to get added to the taglist 🫶

You sat cross-legged in your cell, watching the puddle of blood grow larger as it dripped down off of white armour. Some of it had seeped into your own clothes already. Two stormtroopers lay just in front of you, very dead, the food they had been bringing in long forgotten.

But the cell doors activated from the outside automatically, and the soldiers carried no key cards, so it had mostly been for nothing. Mostly, because watching them bleed out slowly had taken the edge off of your bottomless anger, just a bit.

It was the only emotion you had allowed yourself to feel. Towards him, towards the situation, towards his soldiers… Towards the Mandalorian.

While you had recovered from the internal injuries inflicted by the containment field, you had been overcome with grief. The stormtroopers who attended to you had been armed to the teeth, and you had considered the logic of a more drastic way out. But as the mental fog had worn off, you remembered you had one more thing to do.

“Now look at this.” He tutted at you, as if reprimanding a small child. “Was it really necessary? It’s not as if we have infinite troopers at our disposal now.”

You stared forward, trying to calm your breathing.

“You’re looking better.” He crouched down to be level with you. “Now, I don’t want to use the containment field again, but that means I’ll need you to behave yourself. Can you do that for me?”

You were picturing spilling his blood, in so many ways, across the pristine floor. All the possibilities flashed behind your eyelids. You just had to escape.

So you nodded, one time, still not making eye contact.

“Yes?” He sounded surprised. You couldn’t blame him; the picture before him probably painted you as some kind of feral animal.

He seemed somewhat satisfied with your answer though, straightening from his stoop. “Rest. I’ll come back for you soon. There’s much to catch you up on. You won’t believe the things we’ve been up to in your absence.”

You were clenching your teeth so hard it was a wonder they weren’t cracking. Fissuring and turning to dust in your mouth.

Before he left, he turned over one shoulder. He smiled. He told you he missed you. And from the emotions you read from him, you knew it to be the truth.

--- Years ago ---

You had been lying on this floor for hours. Days maybe. There was crushed glass across the surface, under your curled up body, digging and cutting into flesh anytime you shifted.

The group had not held back this time, delighting in drawing screams from you. You hated that they could. Each time you would try so hard to stay silent. Bite your lip or grit your teeth, anything to withhold the satisfaction they got from seeing you break. Because it was that exactly.

They got off on seeing you in pain. You could tell from the waves of arousal that would wind through the room as they toyed with you. They weren’t allowed to touch you that way, and that was perhaps the only blessing you had. But anything else was fair game. A stars, could they be inventive.

Fear, pain, rage… those were all emotions that tethered the Sith techniques, strengthened the wieldier. You had learned that much from your brief training. So it seemed this group had taken it upon themselves to give you a fair dose of each. In their minds, they thought they were making you stronger. Fattening you up like a prize hog to eventually deliver to their master.

Only, that was the issue. Palpatine was dead; lost in the carnage of the Death Star. Which meant that this purgatory would go on forever, as they searched in vain. As you grew old and eventually died, maybe on this very floor, on this bed of glass.

And why not now? If you could manipulate your manacled hands just so, and grab a sharp enough piece of glass, could you do what needed to be done?

The door slid open, and you feigned unconsciousness. There were arms under your sides, lifting, glass making a twinkling sound as it fell from your body to the tiled floor.

“Come now, let’s get you fixed up.” It was criminal how soft his voice was, as if he hadn’t watched the rest of the group tear you to pieces and leave you in a heap. You hated every place where he touched you, wished you could scrape the tainted skin off.

How sad it would be. That you would never be able to feel the touch of a lover, one that brought pleasure, not pain. How so very sad. It was all you thought about as the medical droid applied bacta and bandages and injected you with a sedative. Even its immobile LED eyes looked sorrowful. You welcomed the fuzzy darkness with open arms.

Boba had cleared off the table and laid a map of the galaxy down, using ornate cut tumblers to keep the edges from curling inwards. “Where was it?”

The two of them had wasted no time in making preparations, and if Din had not been so lost in his own worry and self-loathing, he would have taken a second to appreciate just how willing they were to help. Especially on a mission with so many unknown variables.

“I’m not sure exactly. There weren’t any nearby planets to landmark it. Probably around here.” His had shook slightly as he pointed to a secluded area in the Outer Rim. He knew Fett noticed. “It’s saved in the Crest’s database.”

Fennec came in then, a droid trailing behind her, both of their arms laden with weapons. She dumped her armful atop the stretched-out map.

“Smoke bombs, grenades, droid poppers just-in-case, and…” She turned a small pistol over in her hands. “…a stun blaster. It’s all I could get on such short notice.”

“It’ll do.” Boba surveyed the stash with an appraising eye. Din couldn’t seem to understand why she’d need non-lethal weaponry. He wanted them all dead. He didn’t say it aloud.

She braced her palms against the table. “Where are we at?”

“Rough coordinates, no estimate on number of hostiles. Din assumes around fifty. Probably more.” A muscle ticked in Shand’s jaw at the information, and she turned to Boba, angling her head towards the hall. He nodded.

“Give us a moment, Djarin.” They both retreated from the war room.

Din couldn’t blame them. It didn’t look good. He tried not to eavesdrop on the hushed voices beyond the wall.

“…It’s a suicide mission.”

“It doesn’t matter. We owe him.”

“Is he sure it’s even—” Boba cut her off before she could continue.

“He’s not leaving her. He would never leave her behind.”

She exhaled loudly. “I know.”

“I would do the same, you know? If it was you.”

“Even if it was impossible?”

“Especially then.”

He stopped listening because his throat was getting thick with something, and he felt as if he had been punched in the chest.

Not that it mattered much—they were back in the room within moments.

Fennec didn’t miss a beat. “What ship was it?”

“Nebula… something.” He couldn’t remember the name, just the way it had sounded on your tongue. Silver and beautiful.

“Nebulon Frigate.” She looked towards Boba again. “Shit.”

“Long range sensors… offensive weaponry…” He was thinking out loud. Finally he looked at Din, pointing a finger in his direction.

“I’m going to need you to get those jump coordinates for me. We’re not taking the Crest.”

“What?” Both him and Fennec exclaimed at once.

“The Firespray has cloaking capabilities. We’ll need the element of surprise. We can’t take fifty stormtroopers at once.” He pondered again for a moment. “What class of frigate was it?”

“B, I think.”

He looked intrigued. “Had a long bridge? One larger section, one small?”

“Yes, but it was damaged. Like it had seen battle and been abandoned before they picked it up.”

Boba nodded a few times. “Good. Good, that means it should be immobile. Likely no shields. And hopefully prone to structural warning alarms.”

He shifted the weapons and glasses to the side, rolling up the parchment. “We’re going stealth.”

The next time the stormtroopers came into your cell, you didn’t kill them. You took the food from them and ate it. If your plan was going to work, you were going to need to keep up your strength.

They had woken you from a light sleep, sliding the tray across the floor, the screech of it seeming to scratch lines into your brain.

It caught on pieces of debris that littered the cell, pushing them out of its path and towards you. You were being sequestered in the main section of the ship, on a lower level, in an area where damage seemed to be at its worst. The lights would flicker at uneven intervals, the floor was pitted and potholed, and every now and again there would be an eerie groaning sound as the ship floated through space.

Everything ached. Especially the wound on your thigh. The bandage was still in place and there was no blood showing through your trousers, meaning the stitches hadn’t pulled, but it hurt.

Din had been giving you pain medication on the Crest which had numbed it for a time, but without them you were starting to struggle. Just the simple thought of him sent another pang through your leg, and a twin one through your chest.

What had even been the point? Of showing you such care and compassion if he was just planning on dumping you here anyway? You could have sworn there were times where you had felt something from him…

But you were struggling to remember just what it had been. Lust. Yes, there had been plenty of that, but he had been so damn hard to read. Had it really been that easy to play you? He would have cared about your health because he wouldn’t have gotten paid if you were dead. But why keep up the charade with the crystal? Unless he had wanted you and the crystal.

You reached for your food but halted, focusing instead on a piece of metal just beside your knee. An old portion of piping perhaps, scratched and dented and left to rot on the floor. Ironic. You picked it up, tuned it over in your still-manacled hands.

Come to think of it, where even was the crystal?

Din had been keeping it, all too eager to not leave you alone with it. Ah, that made sense now. Perhaps he had handed it over whenever he got his credits.

Three times the value of the crystal… That’s what you were worth to him. Well, at least it was a lot of money. But what had he been worth to you? The stars and the galaxy and the space in between it all?

Maker, you were an idiot. A lovestruck, naïve, and stupid idiot.

Just like everyone else, he had wanted something from you. And you had let him have it… willingly. You wondered if he knew how much damage he had done. Just how deep it went. How much you loved him.

You would tell him. You would tell him before you killed him.

You finished your meal and curled into a small ball on the hard floor. Clutching the sad piece of piping to your chest, you let the thought comfort you into sleep.

He came for you sometime later, hours, days maybe. It was always hard to tell. Your back had stiffened, and your leg was only getting worse. But when he beckoned you to follow, you stood on steady legs, careful not to let the searing pain show on your features. You tried not to limp as he led you down the halls and up an elevator, flanked by two troopers, with an additional one bringing up the rear.

The control centre was a sorry sight. Only two personnel were working there, standing up from their seats to give a sharp salute. Their uniforms were dilapidated, stained with grime, littered with rips. Quite unlike his own. But, then again, he had always been self-absorbed.

Exposed wires littered the floor, panels had been strewn about, and there was a strange mildew smell to the air. You wondered how many of the ship’s systems were actually still functioning. At least the security cams worked; a wall of them flickered away, showing brief cuts of too many near-identical hallways. It made you realize just how empty the starship actually was. Just how depleted his resources were.

The troopers lined the room, blasters across chests. “At ease.” He ordered from beside you. They obeyed.

“I wanted to show you this.” He motioned to the room, beyond it, where a wide window looked out over the rest of the ship. “We’ll be staying here a while, as we fix the ship.”

You couldn’t help your delirious laugh. “Fix?” He looked unamused. “You mean to tell me the Empire won’t supply you with a brand-new Star Destroyer to go ghost hunting?”

A muscle ticked in his too-wide jaw. Good. You wanted to agitate him.

You laughed again. “We’ll be here for years. This frigate is a piece of junk.”

But he merely clasped his hands behind his back, maintaining composure. “We have time.”

I’ll bet you do.

Boba activated the ship’s cloaking as soon as it broke from hyperspace. The calculations had worked, and the frigate was still in position, floating idle in space, no signs of life from the outside.

“They must not have expected you to come back.” Fennec mused.

They would have thought he was smart, logical. Eager to save himself.

They had no idea. If anything had happened to you, he would personally see the whole ship razed, along with everyone inside it. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

The Firespray took a wide berth around the frigate. “When we dock, there’s a fifty-fifty chance that someone comes to inspect the sound.” Boba punched a few buttons on the dashboard. “If we’re lucky, they’ll just mistake it as debris colliding.”

Fennec queried from the jump seat. “And if we’re not?”

“Then we stick to plan B.” The ship closed in on its docking port. “Everyone gets out alive.”

There was a tense silence as he maneuvered into position. Underneath the gloves, Din’s knuckles were white, clenched into unforgiving fists.

“Easy… easy…” Boba was muttering under his breath. Finally, Slave One made contact with a short lurch.

“We’re locked in. Din?”

“On it.” He gave the docking port only a second to equalize before opening the shaft door, rifle at the ready. The hall beyond it, mercifully, was empty.

“Clear.” He could hear the others unstrapping from their seats. The hunt was on.

A dull jolt and low clunking noise caught your attention. It seemed to jostle the ground, just a little. You looked at him, and then at the troopers flanking the door for any sort of recognition, but there was none.

“What was that?”

Only one turned back, acknowledging your question.

“Just damage shifting.”

Some nagging part of you knew they were wrong. It sounded like a ship had docked. And if a ship was here… then that meant you had a way off. One step closer. It was now or never.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “It didn’t sound like damage to me.”

Like clockwork, the comms on his wrist lit up.

“Sir, there’s a small noise disturbance in sector 7. Do you want me to check it out?”

His sigh was patronizing. “Take a look but make it quick. It’s probably just loose steel.”

“Yes sir.”

He pointed at one of the guards stationed at the door. “You, go with them.”

And just like that, you were one guard down. Only two to go.

You didn’t notice the security feeds along the wall slowly start to go dark, one at a time.

Din, Boba, and Fennec had fallen into a pattern as if it were a choreographed dance. They split up, each taking a different route, sticking to the shadows, and taking out cameras as they went.

By a stroke of bad luck—or maybe in her eyes it was good luck—Shand had run into the bulk of the troopers, including a small party sent to investigate the disturbance. They had made a rule to check in every few minutes, along with a Stromtrooper tally. Boba and Fennec were treating it as somewhat of a challenge.

Din could hear the telltale groan of dying man the next time they checked in. “Espa Three checking in. Nearing the command centre. Six troopers down.”

“Espa two.” Boba replied. “Copy. Headed down to the lower levels. Three.”

Mando was the last to check in. “Espa one. Two down, on route to the sky bridge.”

Still no sign of you.

In the minutes that followed, his kills got progressively more brutal.

He had been talking at you for some time now, a poor attempt at gloating, or so it seemed. In the meantime, you breathed through stabs of pain in your leg and took the time to examine the room.

The mildew smell meant the presence of water somewhere. Probably a burst pipe under one of the loose panels.

“When the others hadn’t survived the crash, I had to find some new talent.” Maker, would he ever stop talking? “Everyone on this ship volunteered to be here… because they believe.”

You snorted.

“You being here reinforces that belief. It was the first step. I told them that I would get you back, and here you are.”

You raised your wrists, still circled in cuffs. “I suppose you haven’t been forthcoming about the fact that you’re keeping me against my will. In chains.” At that comment, he dropped your gaze.

“What? You never told them about what you did to me all those years ago? I wonder if they’d still follow you blindly knowing that you used to cut me into ribbons, starve me for days on end, toy with my mind—” The other men had shifted slightly in their seats, perhaps unsure what to do with the new information.

He was inches away from your face then, hissing. “I never touched a hair on your head!”

“No, but you were happy to sit back and watch as everyone else had their fun.”

“It made you stronger!” The veins in his neck were bulging.

You moved forward, the move so abrupt that he relinquished a step. “You tortured me! For years!”

“I made you powerful!” He was seething. “It was because I cared!”

There.

Your response was barely a whisper. “Really?” you lifted your hands again. “Then prove it.”

He seemed to assess. You could follow the train of thought in his eyes. The ship was floating out in the middle of nowhere, and he had a small cabal of troopers under his command. They could subdue you if need be. You were a threat but seemed to have come to your senses. Cooperated. He believed what he wanted to believe. You knew the feeling.

Finally, he nodded. And again, to a trooper at the door.

When he approached you, white armour glinting, and lifted a key you almost sighed in relief. And when the cuffs fell away and the world came back into focus around you, the plan was as clear as day.

Another Stormtrooper entered the room then, delivering a slip of folded paper to the man in front of you. Looking frustrated and somewhat confused, he opened and read its contents. Whatever he beheld had his expression clouding over within seconds.

His order was clipped. “Secure the ship. Now.” The troopers filed out. And then he grabbed you by the elbow, steering you to the front of the room, and into the tattered captain’s chair. Your leg barked at the pain and the edges of your vision frayed a little, trying to keep up with the overload of information available now that you were able to use the Force again.

So, a ship had docked. And it wasn’t a friendly. Good. This could work well.

He was looking out the window with frantic eyes. Scared? Really?

You utilized his distraction to your advantage. The water source was behind the wall across the room; you could feel the steady tick, tick, tick, of droplets falling. It was difficult because you couldn’t see it, but the sense was enough. Focusing enough to make sweat bead on your brow, you manipulated the metal until the dripping became trickling, and then the trickling became rushing.

It pooled onto the floor of the command room, stretching out perfectly in the direction you had planned, right towards the exposed wires. He was too busy barking orders to notice.

But the uniformed technician beside you had, and now watched you with wide eyes. What caught your attention was how his hand shook, hovered over the power button. A question in his eyes.

You nodded and, after what felt like a millennium of bated breath, he nodded back. You both lifted your feet from the floor.

The power engaged with a zap and it was oh so immensely satisfying to see him go down, comms splashing into the water, body convulsing until it finally went limp. The technician cut the power immediately. You could hear men on the other end of the line. “Sir… Sir?”

“Thank you.” You spoke in an effort to break his eye contact on the immobile bodies of his old team.

He turned to you, palms raised in surrender. “I had no idea.” You could feel the reverence in his gaze. It made you uncomfortable.

“I know.” You backed away in an effort to show you meant no harm. “Go. Get off this ship. Take anyone that will go with you.”

He wasted no time, jumping from the chair and running from the room. Leaving you alone.

You didn’t check the man’s pulse, instead going for the discarded note that lay face-down in the growing puddle.

The writing on it was hurried, messy. The water had already dampened the paper, making the ink run. But the text was still clear enough. It was only one line. And it read: The Mandalorian is on board the ship.

Ah.

Come to assuage his guilt, had he? But all of a sudden, doubt was an insistent kernel in the back of your mind. You were shaking. It was from rage… definitely rage… Rage, and definitely not fear and adrenaline and confusion and perhaps a little, little bit of hope.

A fiery blast hit your periphery as the bridge, visible from the deck window, fractured and burst into flames, the two sides of the ship bowing away from each other. The impact had you struggling to maintain balance.

---Minutes earlier---

His tally was up to 15. Maybe he could have taken fifty at once. It sure felt like he could. He had no idea how many more there were. More, hopefully. Enough to quench his seemingly endless bloodlust.

Mando had run the sky bridge like it was a hundred-meter sprint. His heart was thundering once he took cover in the shadowed corner of the far end, sweat starting to feel uncomfortable under the heavy armour.

A few minutes back, blood spray had caught him across the helmet, partially obscuring his vision. He had wiped at it haphazardly, but he was sure he looked a sight. Not that he had any time to dwell on it. He shot out the camera before he rounded the corner.

He had left Boba and Fennec on the other side of the ship to look for you. He hadn’t liked the idea originally, but it was the only way the plan would work. He was the one they would recognize; he was the one they would come after. The next time he took a left turn, he didn’t bother to blast the camera. He let it run, red light blinking as it oscillated to turn on him. He stared it down.

Come and get me.

He had minutes now, two at most, to get back across the bridge before the big wave arrived. He bolted back the way he came.

It worked like a charm. Of course it did. He had never been any good at planning or strategy, but Fett…

He was concealed in a maintenance closet when the cavalry roared past. Maker, it must have been forty troopers at least. He would have laughed at the insinuation if he wasn’t so tense.

Forty troopers? To take him down? It was downright flattering. Once the last of them stormed by, he emerged from his hiding place, took two long strides, and fired one of Boba’s missiles right down the skybridge channel.

The blast doors on each side engaged automatically as soon as the explosive detonated. The force of it almost threw him backwards. But, as expected, the ship split satisfyingly into two.

“Bridge detonated. We’re on our own.”

“I’m not so sure.” was Fennec’s only reply.

You were tracking water down the halls. Strangely quiet halls. Some littered with dropped bodies. You were too exhausted to be confused.

You were dizzy, very dizzy, likely still in recovery from the containment field. Using the Force had only made it worse. As you would turn each corner, you had to brace a hand against the wall for stability. It felt like you were going in circles. Where the hell was the loading bay?

There was a barricade of stormtroopers in the next hall. Enough of them to be more than a nuisance. You could take them, but judging by the way you felt, you might pass out in the process. Then who knew when you might wake up. Your chance at escape was a small, fleeting window. But combat wasn’t an option against that many at once. You steeled yourself, pushing off the wall.

“Stop!” Their blasters were raised, but you knew they wouldn’t shoot. You were much too precious.

One push, just one more. You could do it. As your limbs protested and stomach heaved, you drew upon the Force, a deep pull. One trooper broke from the rest, advancing towards you, holding those damn cuffs. You were so sick of the sight of them.

The ship started to shake. Your fists were curled so tight that your thumbs popped. And then they were choking, all of them, grasping at their necks and flailing before finally falling to the ground before you. Your knees hit the tile hard, the impact jarring your body. There were so many; you could barely see the floor through the throng of their fallen bodies. You wanted to vomit.

Footsteps sounded from behind you, one pair, and you half twisted, delirious with fatigue, ready to throw out another blind attack. It took an extra second for your mind to catch up with your eyes.

“Fennec?” She was already speed walking towards you. “What? What are you doing here?”

“Saving you.” She grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you after her. “Obviously.”

“No, but—” Your brain was failing to keep up. “Din is here.”

“I know. I came with him.”

You yanked your wrist out of her grip, stumbling again. “You knew?” You were slurring your words as if you had drunk too much spotchka.

“Knew what?”

Stars, no. “He gave me up. He took credits for it.” You didn’t want to hurt Shand. You liked her. But if she had played any part in—

But she looked deflated, pitiful. “What kind of lies did they tell you?”

“Lies?” The hall was spinning again. “He left me.”

“He came to get us so we could get you out.”

A sound came from the far end and you both whirled on it. Your heart dropped out of chest and burned a hole through the durasteel of the floor.

He was stained with blood. It was dripping down the side of his helmet. And he was heaving, breastplate rising and falling dramatically, like he was struggling to breathe. You could swear you felt a tether between his body and your own. You felt him again, anger, stress and above all relief… so much relief.

You were moving before you knew what you were doing. Waking and then running. He opened his arms as if to accept you but—

“You left me! YOU LEFT ME!” You were yelling it, screaming at the top of your lungs, barreling fists against his armour. He couldn’t do a thing, couldn’t think of anything to say to make it better so he stood there, still as death, and took the brunt of your hits. They didn’t hurt, not really, not physically, but every impact seemed to shatter a piece of him. Fennec stepped forward to stop you, stun blaster half raised, but he halted her with a hand. You were exhausting yourself, probably experiencing more pain than you were inflicting. “You LEFT…. Me.” You gasped. The hits were getting weaker. “You left. You—"

Your next throw missed, and you fell forward. Into his chest. His arms were around you on instinct, and your fists curled into the base of his cowl. “You left me.” It was a sob this time, and it was as if all of your muscles had suddenly given up. You weren’t even standing anymore, instead held up purely by the force of his embrace.

Tears were stuffy under his helmet. Din could only breathe you in. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum ,” he whispered into your hair. He didn’t even notice Boba enter the corridor, a polished looking man in cuffs behind him, blood dripping from his temple. He just held you.

“I’m sorry, love... I’m so sorry.”

You passed out in his arms.

Boba had led everyone back to the Firespray, including the man who Din now knew to be your captor. The Imperial loyalist you had told him about only a few days ago. Since then, his guilt and worry for you had made way for a sharp anger, a simmering resentment that he was trying so desperately to keep in check. Because he wouldn’t be the one to deal with the man. As much as he really, really wanted to.

That was a privilege that he would save for you. If, of course, it was something you wanted. If not, he would delight in skinning him piece by piece, roasting the flesh on a fire and then feeding it back to him. No, that wasn’t creative enough.

The group passed hallways strewn with the bodies of troopers, some interestingly dispatched. When Boba cast a look towards Fennec, she only shrugged her shoulders. His smirk was fond.

Din carried you, one arm across your back, the other cradling your bent knees. The small puffs of air you exhaled into his neck were the only thing grounding him. But just to have you in his arms again… Tension was lifting from his back, leaving aches and pains in its wake.

The trip back to Tatooine, to Mos Espa, was relatively quiet. Since the ship was tight on space, Din sat, legs extended on the floor, across from the man whose death he was plotting in an endlessly violent myriad of ways.

He had removed his tasset armour plate so that your head could rest on his thigh, body stretched to the side. A piece of stray hair had fallen over your face, and he tucked it back behind your ear with a gloved hand. You didn’t stir.

A piece of old piping had fallen out of the fold of your bloodstained clothing with a loud clang. He had been relieved to find that none of the blood was your own. But it was a strange thing, practically trash, but for some odd reason, you had held onto it. He would ask you about it when you woke. For the time being, he stowed it away in his weapon’s belt.

“You will never value her, you know.” Din looked up to see the man, who was watching him with an emotion akin to disgust. “Not the way I do.”

He shifted on the floor, bound legs moving awkwardly. “You stunt her potential, shrink her to a miniature size so she fits on your ship, among your kind. “But she’ll always be above you. You don’t deserve to breathe the same air as her. You’re filth compared to her.”

“Will you shut him up?” Shand called from the cockpit.

“She deserves more. She was born for more.” His gaze was piercing. “You know it.”

Din didn’t reply. He wouldn’t admit that he might even agree.

Fennec emerged and shot him once with the stun blaster.

Taglist: @that-girl-named-alex @aavengingbucky @prismaticpizza @blub-senpai @a-phan-of-youtube @jaguarthecat @lizajane3 @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @graciexmarvel @soobinsrose @simply-maggie @alwaysdjarin @minky77 @tinytinturtle @tae27 @groguspicklejar @slightlyuglierbeyonce-blog @willow-t @abbyhaslongshorts @andrewshotspot @racetrackheart @leithatnight @messageinadaisy @lostinsideourminds @wren-2-d @goth-cowgir1 @aphterthoughtt @sleeplessskeleton @teawrites01 @dashlilymark @imherefordeanandbones @sunshine96 @kalea-bane

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 year

Text

U - Unexpected

This beautiful art has been done by @lycheesodas and thus, I am delighted to dedicate this piece to this amazing friend and artist :D

Words: 677

Pairing: Beleg x Mablung

Warnings: Minor injury

“Beleg!”

Beleg looked up from the dossier he was working on in surprise; he was working late, catching up on some paperwork, and had believed his beloved Mablung to be stretched out on the couch with a documentary by this time.

Consequently, he was astonished to behold the very man, storming into the small veterinary clinic as if the wolves of Sauron were on his heels.

“What is it, love? Are you ill?” Beleg asked automatically, only realising that Mablung would not have chosen this kind of practice if that was the case upon seeing the confused expression on the man’s face.

“No, but they are,” Mablung panted and brandished a cat dramatically.

Beleg looked at the brownish-grey tabby with professional curiosity and decided—barring some mysterious illness that would not show any visible symptoms—that the tomcat was in excellent health.

“It was meowing pitifully, surely it is hurt,” Mablung went on. The urgency in his voice was probably entirely uncalled for, but Beleg was nonetheless touched by how deeply his boyfriend seemed to care about a random stay he had picked up from the gutter.

“Let me see the little bugger then,” he said softly and reached across the counter to take hold of this unexpected patient—as soon as his hands touched the matted fur though, a quick paw lashed out and swiped a set of razor-sharp claws along Beleg’s cheek.

With a choked cry, the veterinary doctor flinched back.

“Oh no,” Mablung cried, overwhelmed and torn between wanting to avenge his partner and trying to protect the cat.

“It’s quite all right,” Beleg assured him. “He looks hungry and grumpy. Let’s see first if he’ll eat something. Once he’s been fed, he might be mellow enough to let me examine him.”

“It’s a boy?” Mablung asked while he watched his beloved measure out a cup of premium cat food.

“He is,” Beleg acquiesced. “If you don’t want to keep him, I’m sure we’ll find a good home for Noldo.”

“Noldo?”

Beleg chuckled awkwardly. “I would not have chosen this profession if I was not generally popular with animals—it is exceedingly rare that one takes an instant dislike to me. Except…”

Shrugging, Mablung had to admit that he was not entirely wrong. “Noldo it is then…”

Beleg set the bowl down on the counter and Noldo pounced on it without hesitation; satisfied that his first diagnosis had been correct, Beleg lifted his eyes towards his partner and smiled.

Mablung—so serious and stone-faced and yet so laughably transparent—was biting his lip and shuffling his big feet against the linoleum floor; it was evident that he had something on his mind.

“You want to keep the blasted thing, don’t you?”

“Well, he likes me!” Mablung said defensively—they were both so used to people falling over themselves to get into Beleg’s good graces because he was so charming and approachable, but it was much rarer that something similar happened to Mablung.

“Of course, he does,” Beleg laughed, “you are the kindest person on earth and you look good enough to eat in those trousers!”

“I do not think the cat has much appreciation for my wardrobe,” Mablung grinned, “but thank you, my love. So….”

Beleg patted Noldo’s head very carefully and walked around the counter to sling his arms around Mablung’s comforting, muscular midriff.

“Of course, you can keep the cat,” he purred, “and you two can conspire against me if that makes you happy.”

“I would never,” Mablung immediately refuted the mere idea. “He just needs a home.”

With a shivering sigh, Beleg leaned his face against Mablung’s chest, running his hands across that broad, strong back eagerly.

“There is no better home for a feral stray than you,” he whispered fervently. “I would know.”

After a quick once-over—Beleg had been right and the cat was as fine as he possibly could be—and a short trip to the storage room, they finally took the newest member of their household, firmly snuggled into Mablung’s protective embrace, back to his forever home.

@fellowshipofthefics: here's the next one!

As always,

Lots of love from me

-> Masterlist

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #Beleg x Mablung #jrrt #April Alphabet #fotfics april alphabet #fellowshipofthefics #U #Unexpected #Silm

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chocodile · 2 years

Note

Lmao just know I'm brainrotted and am mentally making both my Xatts Anthros but more animal aligned than anthro Xatts cause Xep is based on a hare in my mind so I wanna turn her into a gangly limbed uncanny hare freak (lovingly) with stupid big ears who just generally has major something is very very wrong with her vibes and probably delights in torture and maiming like a little freak and would growl at Hayden ears pinned back in aggression showing, sharp back teeth that definitely probably shouldnt be there if he looked at the rabbit Xatt anthro too long.

Meanwhile sweet bun Xatt is stuck with this terrifying lanky maniac and is just shaped smaller squishy and ever so soft and fluffy with such delicate gentle paws and a light step. And Xep just wants to dress her up and admire her prize. But also probably has something a bit wrong with her as well. What exactly idk but probably don't get caught snooping somewhere you shouldn't by her. Cause I like the oh a cute lil lady <3 - oh there's something wrong with her actually. Maybe magic idk like I like the idea of powers especially darker magic making her perhaps just as deadly as the maniac hare.

Cause both being Xatts they're both dangerous just in slightly different ways bun is a cutesy lure with the unexpected jaw while Xep is cunning and moreso hunts and I think that'd translate over making them both deadly in different ways. They probably have some sort of work deal pact, not sure what or why I like them being in a fucked up partnership cause dynamic. Bound by blood. I'm just so brain rotted and so normal about this XD with so many mental images of art I'll never make but oof I wanna. I just thought you had a right to know your hayden world stuff urg it consumes me I love thinking about it its so fun.

Also I just like uncanny Valley hare lanky wrong and unnerving paired with a small fluffy and trustworthy bunny rabbit. Like the brain is vibrating at mental imagery of that the opposites the cute correct adored and the terrifying incorrect feared, always kind of bound to the other inseparable almost. Idk I can't fully explain it but thoughts go BRRR

In regards to the designs, any proportions you wanna draw them with are totally fine! You can draw 'em anthro with human proportions and clothing, you can draw them quad, you can draw 'em like Bugs Bunny and anything in between. Xatts can come in many shapes and sizes! A long gangly uncanny one sounds cool.

Also, having something "wrong" with 'em and a slightly ominous streak is very much in character for Xatts...they tend to be a little odd and feral at the best of times--it's mostly a matter of what their individual "bad" percentage is and how good they are at controlling it.

Also, your description of your two as a tag team sounds very endearing! I'll keep that in mind when I do your Xatt sketches… (still planning that, just catching up on stuff and in a bit of a digital art slump at the moment)

In regards to Hyden's reaction, I can certainly say he'd be rather creeped out by a Xatt. Once the surprise wore off, though, he'd be fascinated by this strange, new, potentially magical creature… careful, Xep, don't let him get you on the dissection table!

In the current version of the Amaranthine story, Xatts aren't canonically present--they're more of a free-floating monster idea that could be plugged into any setting--but they were originally part of Amaranthine back in 2009.

In the original 2009-era backstory for Xatts, they were born from the Shadow. Given that Hyden was the one who released the Shadow upon the world in the first place, that would have made him their accidental "father", in a way.

The connection between the two isn't canon anymore, but just a fun little bit of trivia. :)

#apologies for the late response... I had this open in a tab but then my browser got closed and everything slipped my mind #wonder what else I may have forgotten... :I #xatts #xatt #mushroom-for-art #ask #anon #doodles #sketches #my ocs #hyden

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captain-apostrophe · 3 years

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Uhhhh is this where you ask for 650 words prompts? I'm sorrg I don't have tumblr I'm trying to figure it out. If this is wrong pls ignore me. As for the prompt jc/nhs or nmj/cj or nmj/lxc cottagecore setting (or similar) would be really jnteresting if they're soulmates but one of them is a ghost (who is maybe haunting somewhere bc secretly they're really romantic andupset over seemingly not having a soulmate) I know this is maybe abit of a crazy idea but it sounded nice in my head 😅

I don't know if I got this exactly as you might have intended, but I hope that you like it anyway, anon! And for the record yes, this is exactly where you ask for the 650-word prompts. Thanks for reading, anon! <3

(also on ao3, if you prefer to read there)

[Gen; NieLan; Cottagecore; Ghosts; Soulmates]

- Liebing -

The man who moved into Liebing's house was... unexpected. He was big - tall and broad, almost too big for the cottage - and scowling, with a neat mustache and his head partially shaved in some curious modern style. Liebing watched him duck through the kitchen doorway to deliver a box that was, helpfully, marked 'KITCHEN' on the side. The man's sleeves were pushed up and his arms were impressively muscled. Liebing watched shamelessly. It had been a long time since he'd had somebody so pretty to look at.

When he had company, the man was gruff. There was a brother who called the man dage, who met the man's grumpiness with teasing and laughter. Another, who also called the man dage but didn't look like a relative, who smiled enigmatically when the man frowned at him. Strangers called him sir and ran when he glared.

On his own, though, the man was sweet. He hummed tunelessly as he worked. Liebing watched from his shelf as the man learned to make bread (it took a few attempts but he seemed to enjoy kneading the dough, so it was never a total loss), as he seasoned a cast iron pan, as he set up a homemade spice rack and added to it each grocery run. Liebing watched his cooking experiments and delighted in seeing the expressions on the man's face when he tasted each meal.

And through the kitchen window Liebing could see the yard: he could see the man weeding the overgrown garden, fixing and repainting the rickety fence, chopping and stacking firewood. He watched the man offer scraps to a huge feral cat that more often than not clawed him for his trouble... but it came back more and more, scratched him less and less.

One day the man convinced the cat to let him shut it in a towel-lined box and take it away in his car. When they came back it had a collar and sometimes after that it came into the house. Liebing worried that it would jump up on his shelf, knock him down and break him, but the cat quickly became a spoiled, lazy thing. It liked to sprawl across the table and sleep there, no matter how many times the man chased it away.

The man sometimes came to look at the things on Liebing's shelf, the old things that belonged not to the owner but to the house, but it wasn't until he'd lived there for a year (Liebing watched the seasons change, through the window) that he actually touched any of it to do anything other than dust.

If Liebing had been capable of breath he would have held it, when the man picked him up from the shelf. Most people wouldn't go further than that, than turning him over curiously a few times before placing him back. But maybe, maybe...

The man hesitated, then laughed at himself, then placed Liebing against his lips and blew. The note that sounded was clear and beautiful and perfect. The unravelling of the spell felt like surfacing from deep underwater, rushing upwards toward light and warmth and air, and before the note ended he was free.

Xichen, no longer Liebing, returned to his body with the man's hands on his cheeks and the man's lips pressed against his lips. Magic tingled between them, making them both gasp, pulling them momentarily closer together - and then the man stumbled back and stared at him.

"Thank you," Xichen said, "and I'm sorry - I didn't mean to steal that kiss."

The man's eyes rolled back and he dropped in a quite dramatic faint.

Xichen sighed, and stepped around the man to offer his hand to the cat to sniff.

"I hope he won't hold that against me," he said.

The cat purred loudly in response; at least he would have company while he waited for his soulmate to wake up.

(and yes, the cat's name is of course Baxia)

#prompt fill #fic-iversary prompts #the untamed #fanfic #nielan #cottagecore #ghosts #soulmates #cap' writes

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selene-tempest · 3 years

Text

How to care for your John Tracy

So, you want to get a John?

Before deciding that a John Tracy is the one for you, you must first realise that they take a lot of specialist care, time and attention that you must be willing to put in if you wish to get the best out of your John.

When taking on a John Tracy one must approach as you would a feral cat, making no sudden movements, do not attempt to touch or grab on first meeting. Allow him to size you up, get used to your presence and approach in his own time and at his own pace.

This could take minutes, hours, days, weeks or longer, there is no set time frame in getting a John to trust you, it varies from person to person. You must be prepared for setbacks and times when it might seem like an impossible task. They require regular reinforcement of their socialising, lots of praise and quiet support.

If you do not have the time, patience or love to devote to your John then we suggest you consider adopting a different breed of Tracy, they are many and varied. For a readily sociable one we suggest you try a Scott or a Gordon, both of which are friendly from the offset and easily tamed with the offer of food.

If a quieter Tracy is still needed but one that is less skittish than the John breed then maybe a Virgil is better suited to your situation. Or if you want one you can play with a lot, then an Alan would be perfect for you. A Tracy is a lifetime commitment so take your time in choosing the right one for you.

Personality traits:

If you do decided that the John is still for you then you will find that all the time and effort you put in is incredibly rewarding. Once you have proved yourself to a John you will find that it will go from a hissing, trembling, retreating ball of anxiety to a purring, snuggling pussy cat that is happy to cuddle for as long as you wish and is, in general, a pretty laid back, chilled addition to your life and household.

Contrary to popular belief a John Tracy is not an antisocial being, this is misinformation that has been circulated due to their quiet nature and contentment in their own company. A John Tracy is by nature actually an asocial introvert (see below pictures).

Once your John Tracy is used to you and has adapted to your ways he will be the most loving, wonderful, affectionate, caring, engaging, sweet, adorable, funny and friendly creature in the world. When he is allowed to do so on his terms in a way that makes him feel safe and secure, of course.

A John Tracy does not hate people or dislike interacting with them, he simply does not do well in crowds and social situations in which he is not prepared or comfortable. Then he may feel overwhelmed and react in a way that society sees as negatively, although for a John social anxiety is perfectly normal and acceptable and should be treated as such. A John is perfect as he is.

Your John Tracy requires a safe and secure place that he can retreat to when feeling overwhelmed or over stimulated, but on the whole, if allowed to come out of his shell and interact without being pushed, forced or tricked he will be perfectly content. John's need positive reinforcement, kind words and to be made to feel secure and loved from the start, this is the only way to bond with one.

A John Tracy is a devoted, loyal and loving creature that is known to mate for life, as do most other breeds of Tracy. A Tracy is a delightful companion that you will not be able to live without once you have one.

Unfortunately, many people will just not work out with a John Tracy, the very reason that so many varieties of this breed are left abandoned in space stations around earth's orbit.

Many see them as hard to socialise and grow impatient with their John, wanting him to act a certain way in a certain length of time, none of which is conducive to a happy and healthy John.

This is often seen as a fatal flaw in the John breed of Tracy, but many John enthusiasts insist that that is part of their attraction. The introverted tendencies of the John is in no way a flaw, it is part of what makes this particular breed of Tracy so special and so desirable to the right person.

John's make very good companions and they are well worth the additional effort that you will have to put in.

Feeding:

John's are not demanding in the food department and you will have to be prepared to offer food at regular intervals as they hardly ever seek it out for themselves.

Your John will try to exist on a diet of bagels and cheeseburgers but this is not good for them and, as much as they may protest or go on hunger strikes, you must continue to offer them a variety of options in your quest to ensure they eat enough to survive.

The same rules apply to keeping them hydrated, they will naturally gravitate towards coffee and occasionally water but they need to include fruit juices, herbal teas and the occasional meal replacement if they have been in a particularly stubborn mood, which they are regularly inclined to slip into.

Nothing is more stubborn than a Tracy breed and the John is one of the worst.

Exercising:

Your John will take care of itself in the exercise department although, once bonded to their person, a John will often try to entice you, or can be easily tempted itself, into playtime and physical activity.

When left to its own devices a John Tracy will spend many hours running, either outside in nature or indoors on an exercise ring. This helps to keep them healthy and fit for their jobs, for all Tracys are working creatures, all highly trained in their fields.

A John will also enjoy playing in water, such as swimming or diving and some extreme sports if it sparks his interest as John's are very athletic and flexible.

John's not only require physical exercise but mental agility training too. They have a very active, inquisitive and engaging brain and enjoy problem solving, organisation and stimulating intellectual conversations.

John's like to work with their hands and are very good with computers and AI's but be warned, they are also very good at hacking and you will have very little privacy with a John in your life.

Housing needs:

You John will require extensive housing to stay happy and content. He will require not only the run of your house with the ability to explore every single inch of your property but also his own specialist housing.

John's require a lot of space, both in the social way, the physical way and the outer space way. Do not deprive him of these essentials.

He will require access to both indoor and outdoor housing of the tropical island variety as well as his own space station.

Now this might seem excessive but it is a necessary part of having a John. John Tracys require extended periods of time in Zero-Gravity in order to both thrive but also stay calm and in control. John's like to feel weightless and to indulge whenever the urge takes them so you will have to be prepared to spend large amounts of time without your John in attendance.

John's prefer quieter surroundings to noise and will often take themselves off to hide if they are over stimulated and surrounded by other noisy Tracy breeds. You cannot stop this, it is part of the John's nature and you have to accept this if you wish to have one of your own. Attempting to force a John into socialising when he does not wish to is an unpleasant, cruel and unfair action and should never be undertaken if there is any other option.

John's also require a number of soft surfaces on which to stretch out, relax and be quiet. John's seem to require very little sleep and are very active both in body and mind for long periods before they crash out completely and need time to re energise themselves.

Appearance:

John's come in a variety of Ginger and Blond colours and are on the taller end of the Tracy spectrum. Long, lean and sleekly muscled the John is a beautiful specimen of Tracy breeding and very pleasing to look at.

Their hair is of the softest quality and, when a John is relaxed and content in your presence, they often enjoy it being stroked and petted, this pleases them and helps them to stay calm and sleepy.

John's have arguably the prettiest eyes of any Tracy breed, although lovers of the Scott, Virgil, Gordon or Alan breeds will beg to differ saying that blues and browns are nicer.

John's sometimes have a questionable dress sense when allowed to please themselves but their standard blue is figure forming and pleasing to behold.

Petting and affection:

John's can be extremely affectionate when they feel comfortable with someone. It just takes them a long time to get there.

John's do not like sudden movements or to be grabbed or forced into affection by someone they do not know well and are not already comfortable with. Unexpected affection from someone that is not one of their chosen people will cause them to freeze like a fainting goat and adopt the tactic of play dead until the threat goes away.

But when a John is comfortable it very much enjoys attention, affection and love.

As mentioned above, John's are an introverted breed of Tracy and allowances have to be made for them. They do not respond well to being forced out of their comfort zones or into interacting when they do not want to.

When a John wishes to interact they will be friendly, approachable and funny. They will happily join in with family activities and events but be aware that they may require additional quiet time after to recharge. This is just the way of the John.

Additional tips and information :

-Respect your John's boundaries. They will make it clear with body language if they are comfortable or not even if they do not verbalise it.

-John's are sensitive and they will respond with sarcasm when they feel threatened or attacked.

-John's cannot be forced into anything they don't want to do. They cannot be moved if they don't want to move. They cannot be tricked or cajoled, they are too smart, give up now.

-John's love their family more than anything and are fiercely protective of them. Never get in between a John and another Tracy breed. You will come off worse.

-John's have a death stare that might actually kill you. You have been warned.

-John's are generally very sensible, until it comes to a challenge between other Tracys, they are extremely competitive creatures and nothing will stop them.

-John's are logical and organised.

-John's do not respond well to blackmail, trickery, deception or engineered situations.

-A John is perfect as it is, never try to change it or force it to be something that it isn't.

-Being socially avoidant is only one part of his personality and it's only when you take the time to get to know him that you will see the rest.

All in all, we can highly recommend bringing a Tracy into your life, they are wonderful creatures and well worth your time and energy. Just think carefully before you choose a John as they require the most love, patience and attention.

(John pic curtesy of @misssquidtracy)

#Adopting your John #Keeping a Tracy happy and healthy #They make great witches cats #john tracy #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fandom #healthy relationships #relationship goals #selene tempest

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gossamer-sky · 4 years

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hello! i would to request M, P, R for Luka, Edgar and Oliver😍😍😍. i hope you don’t mind with that and totally looking forward to it! have a nice day and stay safe!🥰

Thank you dearest anon, I hope you stay safe too! ❤️

Luka:

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

- Watching you (it sounds creepy, but he swears it’s mostly innocent)

- He just likes to see the way you move, the expressions that cross your face - he thinks he’s really subtle but he absolutely is not

- You always notice when he’s staring more; when you lean close to him, you can practically hear his blood start racing

- He gets bolder and bolder as time goes on, but his cheeks still heat when you brush past him a little too close in the kitchen

- His jaw gets more tense with every second that passes

- Gets real jittery and fumbly when you purposely bend over in front of him

- Eventually, he’ll just grab you lightly by the wrist and pull you into the nearest closet; greedily taking your mouth until your lips are sore and you’re moaning

- (This really isn’t discouragement, Luka)

- Also swears he can feel the way your eyes burn into him when he’s training how are you supposed to help that you’re both so thirsty for each other, honestly

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

- Slow but purposeful

- Builds up slowly, in increasing increments until you’re both shaking with holding back

- Often starts off fairly innocent

- You’re literally always surprising each other with just how desperate you are

- Really catches you off guard sometimes?? It’s just so easy to lose track of where you are, leading to getting walked in on mid makeout (Luka turns into a tomato when this happens, to the varying delight of the other black army officers)

- He always finishes what he starts though, no matter how mortifying the interruption - he’s not about to back down now, dammit

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

- Can be a bit shy with initiating, but when he has something on his mind, you can definitely tell

- If you’re quiet but encouraging, he’ll usually work up the nerve to talk to you about on his own

- Usually comes out during sex; he’ll be inches away from losing it and then will burst out with something shocking

- Despite his shyness, he loves to explore with you

- Always is receptive when you bring up something you want to try

- You notice that the confidence he builds up with you trickles out into his everyday life as well, becoming more assertive

Edgar:

M = Motivation

- When you surprise him with something unexpected, his gut reaction is always desire

- Like, he’s really into it

- Especially when you surprise him with something sweet and good, oh wow he wants to wreck you

- He won’t be able to hold back

- When you’re sweet it’s too adorable and he needs to mess you up

- When you’re smug it’s too tempting and he needs to mess you up

- It’s a win/win really

- Sometimes it honestly feels like everything you do turns him on , holy fuck

- You inform him that’s because he’s just easy, he does not disagree

P = Pace

- More fierce than you would think, considering his normal composure

- Perhaps because he’s so secretive and controlled usually (yet he is learning to dial that back with you, baby steps)

- It seems like when you knock down the walls around him, he’s just an infinite well of desperation

- It bleeds through in his touch, just from the needy press of his fingertips

- Will divest you of your clothing like it’s personally offended him, hands everywhere

- Touches you like you’ll disappear sometimes

- He’s also always successful on riling you up until you’re on his level

R = Risk

- Literally invented risk-taking

- Is always beguiling you into some extremely inappropriate situation

- Will slide his hand up your thigh under the tablecloth at meals

- Right in front of the other officers

- Pulls you into his lap in the yard, underneath the wide windows of Lancelot’s office

- Sweet talks you into wearing vibrating panties around headquarters all day the bastard

- He’s also surprisingly down to experiment with kinks that require him to be vulnerable

- You extensively discuss trying these new things beforehand, (especially with his past in mind) but he’s unexpectedly good with giving up control to you

Oliver:

M = Motivation

- You mouthing off to other people when they’re being idiots

- Holy shit he wants to carry you off right then and there

- He lives for watching you cut someone down by a few pegs

- Also, secretly, secretly, he enjoys when you mouth off to him too - even though he’ll snap back at you for it

- He loves when you whip back sarcasm at him, it gets him going fast

- Makes him want to pin you down and help you forget every word in your vocabulary

- If you continue being a brat, he’s just going to keep getting hotter and hotter, until finally breaking

- Growling in your ear about how he’s going to teach you a lesson oh no how terrible

P = Pace

- Domineering af

- Bites out orders in your ear, and if you don’t move fast enough he gives you a slap on the ass

- It can piss you off sometimes, but it’s also really hot so you guess you can deal with it

- Also leads to some nasty fucking, so it’s not exactly a hardship

- Rewards you by telling you how good you are, sweet words spilling off his tongue

- The more riled up he is, the more he’ll lose control of his mouth

- If you’re feeling obstinate, it will turn a bit feral; both of you fighting for the upper hand and wrecking each other in the process

R = Risk

- YUP

- Wants you in every possible way he can have you, so it’s not surprising that you’re nearly constantly discovering new things you’re into

- He’s extremely adventurous, and liable to bring home various sex toys with no warning

- “I saw it and it made me think of you” like he’s talking about a goddamn shirt instead of a ball gag

- You decide to one-up him, and bring home a length of rope and a blindfold before he thinks of it

- He stops dead when he sees them, eyes widening in shock

- “It made me think of you”, you quote back to him

- Then you don’t say anything coherent for a while

- Now that’s a memorable night

ABC list/rules here

Already requested character/letters here

Request here

#ikerev smut #ikemen revolution #ikerev #ikerev oliver #ikerev luka #ikerev edgar #edgar bright #luka clemence #oliver knight #i'm so happy someone requested luka i love him sm #thank you for requesting anon! hope you enjoyed #anon #answered #abc

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spice-chan · 4 years

Text

Fall in Azuchi

pairings : Kirishima Eijiro x (fem)reader

wordcount :5050 words

warnings : just fluff, lots of it. flirty kiri, soft kiri. Ancient japan setting ( kiri is a warlord) mentions of war and blood but not too many and nothing too descriptive.

After Kirishima, on a passing, tried the dumplings that you made, he couldn’t get the taste out of his mind. Now that it’s fall festival, it’s about time he paid you a visit.

note: this work was done as a part of a collab with the theme ‘Fall Festival’ in mind. Thanks to all the encouragement of the amazing participants, this work turned out well ! thanks to @etegomanere / @dark-and-delightful for being beta and giving constant encouragement. Please don’t hesitate to check out the work of the others in this collab, they all worked so hard and did amazing !

collab masterlist

.........................................

Fall. The season of rebirth, of crispy leaves and chilled weather.

But in Azuchi, the most prosperous city of its time in the era, famed for its magnificent castle and fearsome warlord, Bakugou Katsuki (warlord most likely to unify the nation), fall isn’t famed for its abundance of orange leaves painting the ground. No, it was famed for its most festive celebrations that took place during it. Fall festival.

In a time of war and unsettlement, instead of collectively resenting our lives and how the cycle of rebirth let us down, we instead decide to unify and bring out the best in each other. Lanterns decorated the prosperous city, coloured orange to pay homage to the season and its beauty. Each tea house and corner shop brings its bakes its best selections, which didn’t stray too far from Yokan pumpkin cake, dumplings with pumpkin, pumpkin in this and pumpkin in that, it would be appropriate to send gratitude to the Portuguese for the wonderful fruit.

It’s a time where stalls litter every corner of the region, and where musicians display their talent to the joyous masses. It's a happy time. Especially for the infamous Kirishima Eijiro, warlord and head of the Kirishima clan, who just defeated a rebellion in his region and came to celebrate the festival on his ally’s land, Bakugou Katsuki, devil king of the sixth heaven. The blunt truth was that although Kirishima loved his homeland, Azuchi was a good place to unwind in. The other truth would be that Kirishima missed his friend and wanted to make sure he’s doing well.

But there was an unavowed, untold wish in there somewhere. It's got little to do with the vicious- yet- not really warlord that Kirishima made an ally of, and not his beautiful Azuchi where the colour orange reigned over, making the land appear like a painting for the faraway eyes. But to say that it has nothing to do with the festival would be a lie, because a certain tea house that Kirishima is dying to visit would surely be participating.

It started with Kaminari buying him some dumplings from there for their journey to ambush a camp of bandits. Kirishima fell in love with the flavour.

He never got the time to visit again, despite intending to, as an upheaval of battles barged their way into his life, disturbing any momentary peace he experienced. As his life often is, not that he hates it, Kirishima learned to love the symphony of clashing swords and the red paint that coloured a battlefield, he learned to appreciate it as an artist admires a finished piece of work that took blood, sweat, and tears to finish.

He learned how to find euphoria in the quickening of his heartbeat as it feared for its host’s life.

But when Kirishima tastes those dumplings, despite him being an amazing and talented cook, he was enamored with their taste, he found pleasure in something far from war, far from anything he found ecstatic in the ring of a bloodthirsty man.

That small rush of happiness that flooded his taste buds and went straight to his heart was short-lived, and Kirishima was starting to forget the feeling itself. But tonight, he finally visits the place. Tonight he will see the cute waitress that works there that Kaminari babbled on and on about.

So, dressed in a quite seasonal Yukata that was tailored with the best seamstresses in town, Kirishima left Azuchi castle to march into the festive town.

The harmony of instruments filled the town from the direction of the shrine, giving the already festive town and even more joyous atmosphere. Laughter filled the air as people walked by, purchasing from the stalls who went the extra mile to include many pumpkin flavoured and orange sweets. And while tōrōs were lined up in every corner and on top of every place, nothing compared to the brightness on people’s faces from every corner, every tea shop, every merry couple, and all bright-eyed children. From poor workers to prosperous merchants, everyone sported a type of smile that let you know they were pleased on this day.

It’s quite different from the savage, animalistic and feral look Kirishima has whenever he stands victorious after a battle, when he relishes in the afterglow of battle now that it’s done. When his one eye surveys the after damage, tears at the corner of it but not from sadness, but not quite exhaustion either.

Kirishima continued walking, his mind plagued by thoughts, whether unwelcomed or not, until he reached his destination, stopping abruptly when he realized he was about to walk past it. He fixed his eyepatch, and grinned wolfishly, albeit slightly when he noticed you. You were everything Kaminari described and more. Down from your cute smile to your bright (e/c) eyes, that looked warm and welcoming. Even your cheeks had a healthy tint of red to them, as if you were bashful. Kirishima’s feet carried him to you, not stopping at your shocked face, who wouldn’t be shocked at seeing the one-eyed tiger? But although that expression on your face was cute, Kirishima wanted to elicit another kind of expression.

“You are the one who made dumplings here a few weeks ago, right? Your dumplings are amazing !” Kirishima praised, a lackadaisical smile on his handsome face. He saw how you flushed, not expecting him to compliment you straight off the bat.

“Uh, thank you, I don’t believe I saw you around here m’ lord.” You responded politely, already acquainted with the one-eyed lord through seeing him through your town a lot, and hearing the whispers of castle servants who visited the merchants for different tasks. You heard how powerful he is, and you observed how popular as well, from the blushes on the maidens’ cheeks as they spoke of him.

You were quite flattered at his compliment, that someone of such importance was praising you, yet even willing to talk to you unprompted.

His smile got even wider at hearing your response, his tiger-like teeth sharp and fully on display as he flashed you a heart fluttering, fan worthy smile.

“Yeah, a friend of mine bought them from here. He went on and on about you, and I have to agree. “You familiar with Kaminari Denki?” At that, you gasped in recognition, nodding your head fondly as you flushed.

“Well, give him my thanks for the good words, at least I hope they were ?”

“All good, kitten.” You raised your eyebrows at the nickname, for sure impressed and embarrassed by the warlord's forwardness. You had many responses, but were afraid to voice them, lest you overstepped your boundaries. But this warlord seemed too friendly, too approachable then the others you heard of or met to get offended by your statement.

“Kitten? M’lord, you’re the tiger, doesn’t that make you the kitten?” You snarked, relieved when you saw no sign of hostility on his face, only a smirk appreciatively as your flirty tone set in.

“A lass with snark. I like that. Please don’t scratch this lord with your claws.” He teased, a finger caressing your warmed cheeks.

“Would you like a table, lord Eijiro ?” You questioned reminding him that he was standing in the middle of a tea house conversing with a worker. He nodded, telling you to lead the way with a ‘lass’ somewhere in his statement. He ordered some of the dumplings he was so enthusiastic about, and a nice serving of kabocha pumpkin yokan with tea.

His order arrived shortly, the restaurant owner being over-excited about having a lord in his premise. He took a bite of the dumplings, the firm texture crispy, until he broke through the layer to reveal the sweetness he was enthralled with. The deliciousness spread to his mouth, the taste transferring to warmth as it reached his very own heart. It tingled, and tickled, like someone was caressing it with a feather or blanketing it after a long day of winter and rain. He could never understand how one piece of dumpling can make him so happy, even though he was an avid fan of food, his own could never make him feel this way. He blushed slightly, not used to- well- anything having this effect on him. His clean hand went to his crimson hair, running through it as he tried to regain his composure. His fingers wrapped around the teacup, lifting it to his lips and taking a sip, slowly as to not burn his tongue. Even your tea was amazing, what in God’s name?

A crispy leaf flew, fluttering until it landed next to his plate. He took hold of it with his slender and calloused fingers, not expecting it to break due to its expired state. It’s weak in nature, perhaps similar to humans, but it would be more accurate to describe them as ephemeral. They feel easily, and their destiny is so swayable by the tides of fate.

Then he saw you, fluttering about, serving from table to table with a smile, a polite one, but it nevertheless enchanted him with its beauty. He wanted to see you smile even wider, a truer smile. He wanted to see that adorable tint on your cheeks get even redder when he teases you. He found you inexplicably irresistible. He thought you were just a talented but shy lass, but then you went and teased him right back, quite a bold and unexpected move. It showed him how much he truly needs to understand a person like you.

And as the warmth of the tea soaked his heart and made it feel lukewarm on a fairly chilly day, he made a resolve to see you again. He really wants to eat your food, and maybe discover why he loves it so much. Maybe it’s a trade secret? But he has a feeling it’s something to do with its very own creator: you.

And once he finished his food, he gave you one last look, willing the image of you to imprint on his mind before he found the will to leave. And once his shadow was made scarce, you looked at his empty seat, disappointed to find its previous occupant gone.

Kirishima walked around, trying to find something entertaining, like a token that he can take home with him. Or an interesting thing that will form a memory that he can keep. To say ‘hey I did this and that’ but nothing seems to appease the young lord.

His thoughts keep straying to you, as if they were not his own.

His hand involuntarily twitched to his sword, caressing the handle gingerly. Worn and sturdy, the handle still feels somewhat warm, despite Kirishima not touching it today, he hadn’t had a reason to. He’s almost wishing for one.

Alas, not all wishes come true. Kirishima could sit all day wishing that some bandits would terrorize some alleyway to an inconspicuous teashop, where he’d stumble accidentally, finding the pretty commoner who served him dumplings being manhandled, he’d waltz in and become her samurai in shining Katana. Nah, he’d be better off becoming a Noh fanatic.

He did find a stand that served dumplings though. And he purchased one, but as the taste hit, he found himself immediately dissatisfied. Je looked around, seeing every customer eating carelessly, none sporting the frown he has, laughing as they bit down on their dessert, not finding a problem with the texture, taste, feel, and paste.

After Kirishima had a taste of ambrosia, this felt like a premature grape, plucked too early and aged like milk instead of wine.

His eyes glazed over, before a lantern-lit up over his head. Why is he huffing and puffing like a child?! If he wants excitement, if he wants answers, then he’ll get them. Why else is he Kirishima Eijirou?

Kirishima dumped the dumplings he bought, running over to the teashop he knows you work in. Luck seems to be on his side, because when he arrived, he saw you leaving, wearing a different attire that did no justice to your beauty. A carmine colored Kimono. You and his match! That must be a sign from buddha!

He could up to you, his giant figure deterring the bypassers from wanting to bump into him.

“Kitten!” He beamed at you.

You furrowed your brows for a second, turning around to gouge where the sound came from, only for your search to be cut short as your eyes met a cheerful lord’s.

“Lord Eijirou, have you been enjoying the festival?” You questioned politely, wanting to fill the silence that would ensue as you resisted the urge to question him with what you are really thinking. You didn’t want to impose, you were all too aware of his situation and yours.

“So like, how much do you get paid a month here?” He asked. He watched your brows furrow quizzically as you answered.

“And what would you say if I offered to give you more then triple that if you make me dinner, with dessert and all ?” He further interrogated, piquing your interest.

“Well then I’d say lead the way, m’ lord !” You replied cheerfully, his nature must be contagious.

His lips quirked at your reply, his canines visible giving him a mischievous look despite the innocence his smile itself radiated. He grabbed your hand, to your astonishment, and zeroed through the crowd, his long legs giving him advantage, however, you were stuck using up all your stamina to even keep up with him in a crowded street!

He kept a tight hold of your hand, not stopping once nor did his lips cease to smile. He would have looked like a feral cat, his sharp teeth on display in excitement, running with a sole destination while everyone around him appeared to be simple herbivores, insignificant and incomparable to the majestic being he is. But he honestly looked more like a carefree child, his bloody eyes like bright berries, glinting in harmless excitement.

Eventually, the crowd was dispersed, and the castle was naught but a few feet away. You suddenly felt anxious, were you really going in there? Did you really hold hands with Kirishima Eijiro? It was high, really high, and you felt intimidated looking at it. Meanwhile, the male next to you rolled his shoulders.

“Man, I just couldn’t wait to eat more of your cooking! I’m sure some people must have enjoyed this festival, but after I had your food, I think I got ruined, so you have to take responsibility! Wouldn’t want this handsome lord to starve.” He confessed excitedly, rambling as he led you to the castle, at a walking pace this time, although the exercise he did and made you do didn’t seem to deter him or have the least effect on him. He walked over the bridge, and walked you through the entry of the castle as if it’s as familiar as home to him.

Kirishima however paused when he saw a blond warlord approach him with an unimpressed look. The intimidating warlord dressed in fancy embroidered orange kimono approached. The air around him felt hot and cold at the same time, and his face was devoid of any smile, instead, his full lips were scowling, and his hellish red eyes were glaring rather grumpily. His spiky hair looked as sharp as the swords he carries, and you found yourself shrinking behind Kirishima. Who seemed unphased, if anything.

“Hey man! Looking sharp, I guess even you like celebrating fall season huh ?” He observed, and to your utter horror, clapped him in the back. You half expected the famed lord, Katsuki Bakugo, to pull his sword out and slash the hand the touched him, but he slapped it away instead, seeming ruffled.

“You’re back huh? Too soon. You may leave again, shitty hair.” He replied gruffly. As if just noticing you, the warlord's intimidating eyes looked down at your softer (e/c) ones, the flame in his red eyes never diminishing.

You bowed in respect, saying a curt ‘m’ lord’. He nodded at you in acknowledgment, making you sigh in relief. He instead turned to Lord Eijirou with raised eyebrows as if to say ‘really? This is why you came early?’

“Bro, we are just gonna have dinner! But if something did happen, I wouldn’t be opposed…”

You blushed at his bold statement, right in front of the most powerful Warlord no less! Were you supposed to reply? Feeling yourself starting to clam up as both warlords stared you down.

“I don’t do it before marriage.”

…

Bakugo stared at Kirishima somewhat triumphantly, as if he gets a twisted satisfaction out of seeing his shitty haired friend be put in awkward situations.

Kirishima however, was surprisingly red. So… you wanted to marry him?!

“Well, I mean, uhhh, well I dunno ‘is too soon.” He rambled awkwardly, making everyone’s faces blank before yours twisted into a grimace while Bakugo’s seemed somewhat similar.

“Dumbass, who’d wanna marry your shabby ass?” Bakugo asked, smacking Kirishima at the back of his head then walking away; he had enough weirdness.

Kirishima, who was still flushed from receiving a marriage proposal from the cutest girl he’d met, shuffled his feet awkwardly, before coughing and recomposing himself.

“Uh, umm, dinner ?” You remind him, snapping Kirishima out of his trance. Oh yeah! He was gonna get dinner with you and discover what sort of sorcery you used to make it taste so good.

“OH, yeah, dinner.” He reiterated, taking your hand and leading you to where the kitchens near his bedroom are. Bakugo was aware of his friend’s hobby and gave him his own personal kitchen. A very nice gesture. One of the many that led Kirishima to believe his blond friend has a very soft core.

He arrived there with you in tow, making a grand gesture as you entered.

“And this is my not very humble personal kitchen. You may use anything and everything as you please.” He proclaimed, leaning down, adding in a whisper -“kitten”.

Well, now you had to make food so good, it’ll shut his teasing mouth. His teasing, pretty mouth.

And you got to it, moving in the kitchen with practised precision, sometimes adding your own touch. You made your favourites, things you’d learned from your mum, your grandma’s recipe, the last meal your dad ate before heading to war, saying it’d provide him with the blessing of Buddha. You hope it has, you heard he fought bravely and died a death warriors are envious of. No one should envy death, but you were glad your father had honour and respect even in his death.

You resented that food for a while. And the first time you made it after his death, you ended up crying as you took the first bite of it, remembering the way he scooped up serving after serving, maybe deep down knowing that it would be his last time eating it. Still, he smiled at you adoringly as he departed, never shedding a tear.

You wished you could smile a smile devoid of sadness, but instead, it looked like broken china, with tears streaming down your face as you remembered your father’s kind (e/c) eyes shining in the sun as he bid you farewell forever, reminding you that he ate his ‘fortune food’, you shouldn’t worry about him. Sometimes you wished you didn’t take his reassurances to heart. Maybe you would have hugged him tighter, or smiled at him brighter.

Nevertheless, the more you made Oroshi soba, the fewer tears you cried, the more fond memories of it started to resurface.

You laid out a perfect dinner table, even the smell of the perfectly seasoned and simmered food had Kirishima with his sophisticated palate salivating. He watched you closely while you cooked. Sometimes you had a frown, sometimes you smiled and sometimes you grimaced. Why are you so expressive? Especially when it comes to food, shouldn’t you be stressed, frowning and fretting, trying to please him, a warlord in such a high station he can get you beheaded in a matter of minutes- no, seconds?

But you were fluttering around the kitchen, whether as a butterfly whose wings were sculpted by the finest smith, or a fall leaf, seasoned by time, only a deity would know.

He invited you to sit with him, which caused you to pause slightly, taking in his words in disbelief.

“You really want me to dine with you ?” You said cautiously. Your heartfelt like a warm blanket enveloped it when he beamed and nodded, and you’d never realized how chilled it was until now. You’d never met someone so… down to earth.

You would be a fool if you refused that.

You took a seat in front of him, still cautious that he might change his mind any second. A few minutes went past and he didn’t.

“Why are you not eating? You made too much food so it can’t be the quantity.” Kirishima asked you after swallowing his bite. His face was flushed because of how warm this food made him feel. It tasted heavenly, and he is still in the starters.

He watched you carefully, you didn’t add any weird ingredients, so it couldn’t have been sorcery, so what is it?!

So you tentatively reached out with your chopsticks towards one of the sides that your grandma taught you to make. You haven't had it in so long, the ingredients are a bit hard to find in this market. When you ate it, a fond smile took over your features. Her recipe had always been unmatched. You could never find anything that was on par with it. Unknowingly, the young lord watched you, unable to keep his curiosity to himself, asked what prompted you to smile.

“Well, I just remembered my grandma, she taught me how to make this !” You exclaimed, a bit giddy at finally telling someone why you loved that dish so much. His carmine eyes studied you, trying to discern you. A family recipe. That’s why it tasted so unique.

He decided that it’s enough with the sides, despite how delicious they tasted. He couldn’t give himself a bloated stomach with him. His chopsticks reached towards the Oroshi soba, thinking it couldn’t possibly taste better than the Oroshi soba he had in Kyoto. It couldn’t beat it, right? That soba — was… fuck.

He could feel every flavour bursting out and mixing with the other in an amazing harmony, as if everything you cooked inside it was joined through matrimony. He filled his plate with it, eating with a haste that could put shame on his statues. He couldn’t help himself!

Is that the food you always eat? He could only wish to be as gifted as you.

“How is it so good ?!” He questioned with a mouthful, prompting an amused smile from you, a smile that sent arrows straight to his heart.

You took a bite of it, humming at the taste.

“Must have been practise. This soba means a lot to me, you know. It brings back a lot of fond memories.” You replied offhandedly, piquing Kirishima’s interest.

He swallowed his food, and wasted no time asking about this— this amazing soba!

However, the answer he got back wasn’t as lighthearted as he might’ve envisioned.

By the time you were done, his iced heart, hidden behind pointy swords that chill you to the very bone, was squeezing painfully in his chest.

Kirishima enjoyed war. He enjoyed the rush of adrenaline when he’s in the field that acts as the in-between for life and death. He enjoyed how his sweat-drenched him from brow to toe, and he relished in the hollers of victory. He didn’t mind death, but somewhere along the way, he forgot that there are many, many people waiting for him to be back home.

“Then why do you still make it?” He demanded to know somberly. All the cheer he previously had dissipated seemingly out of nowhere. All he had was this pressing need to know more, to know why you went so far to keep the memory of this dish alive even though it’s very existence is a lie, it should cause you pain, yet you smiled while retelling how your father ate it before he headed off to war, never coming back.

You seemed somewhat shocked at his change in demeanor, but tried to not let it ruffle you so much. This topic is not one for cheer to most anyway, especially to seasoned warriors who are constantly out and fighting, whether they wish to or not.

“Well, whether or not my dad made it, that food was still something that brought him at least a semblance of happiness in his last moments with his family. If eating amazing food will remind a person that even though life is unstable, and it might not go on forever, everything is alright now at this moment! I hope it makes sense. I don’t talk about this a lot. I just, I want to make people feel like even though we live in somber times, we don't have to lead somber lives! “You confessed. Every word, exclamative and unsure phrase tugged at Eijiro’s heartstrings. Even in your passion, you found a way to share it and bring people the happiness you felt.

You were so ordinary looking, just a tea house worker, living and leading a mundane life. But Eijiro had never met someone so incredible, you didn’t carry a sword or fight bloody battles, but you sought to make everyone’s day a little brighter in your own way. He had never met someone so unique and intriguing, so lovesome. Nothing about you is mundane.

And that’s when it clicked. A notion so far-away, a person of his status didn’t question it anymore, nor wonder it. But it’s the reason he was so enamored with your food.

You made it with love.

You poured your passion, heart, memories into making every little thing, it’s a wonder how a person could possibly not be moved by it.

No master chief could compare to it.

And now that Eijirou is facing the possibility of never having it again, of going back and not seeing you for who knows how long, filled him with indescribable pain, like a void that you managed to fill in him is now all the more apparent. But what could he do? He had only met you today, really. With a resigned sigh, he accepted that he wouldn’t be seeing you all too soon after this.

He nodded, smiling at you slightly. Somehow, even with all the smiles he’d shown you all day, this one felt even more laced with emotion. Like the very movement was all the telling you need about how he felt.

And after that, he had dumplings.

And after, he bid you goodbye.

But not before he promised something.

“(Y/n), if I promised to be back, will you believe me ?” He asked you at the entrance of the castle just as you were about to depart.

“And if I said no, will you prove me wrong?”

“You know it, kitten. I gotta have that amazing food again and the amazing company that comes with it.”

The moonlight reflected off your eyes, making them look like gems to Eijiro. And another gem you graced him with was your smile.

Kirishima made sure that he had something tangible to remind him of the day. He decided to walk you back to town, and found a wood craft of an Autumn leaf. It was carved with a knife and coloured with colours varying from orange to yellow, also crafted with a stand. Kirishima thought it was a perfect memo of the magical fall day he had.

He kept it in his office, and looked at it every day to remind him that even though life is tough, you have to appreciate the good in it. He looked at it in the good days, the bad, and after battles.

And the next fall festival, he was back.

He stayed for longer this time, and visited a few more times throughout the year, his alliance with Bakugo still being strong.

And the one after, he brought you back with him.

……….

Bonus

Kirishima sat on the futon drowsily, having had a bit too much sake. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes looked dazed, yet they still lingered on you. You were reading a book about something Kirishima forgot. You frowned, your eyes leaving the book to look outside in contemplation.

You flipped the book, putting it aside and crawling your way to Kirishima’s side on the futon. Your eyes still seemed to be wondering with a faraway look in them.

“Eijiro, if you could do one thing right now, what would it be ?” You questioned him curiously.

Eijiro hummed in wonder, but his brain didn’t travel far.

“I could show you.”

“No, I mean like, anything-“

Eijiro cut you off by pressing his lips to your softly, stealing the words out of your mouth as they moved against yours tenderly.

“You simple fool.”

“Only for my kitten.”

Yeah, Kirishima could hypothetically do a lot of things, but at the moment, all he wanted was to enjoy the simple life with you. To cherish the little things and big.

……………

bonus 2

Bakugo walked into Kirishima’s kitchen, eyes scanning the place in search of him. He didn’t find him, but his nose found something else.

He took powerful strides towards the smell, seeing a table with some leftover food that the fool didn’t clear away yet.

He looked around, seeing no one, then took one of the chopsticks, and tried one of the dumplings you left on the table.

He nearly moaned as the sweetness hit his tongue, just the amount of sweetness he likes.

Bakugo finished the rest, a satisfied sigh leaving him. So, this is why Kirishima was so into your food, that he brought you over to make dinner.

Good for him.

Bakugo’s carmine eyes stared at the empty plate longingly, then his lips quirked down enviously. You seemed really cute too.

His eyes softened with an unfamiliar look, before hardening again, leaving the kitchen as silent as it had once been.

The End .

.......................

thanks for reading so far, hope you liked it ! don’t be afraid to comment, I always want to hear your thoughts.

coffee ?

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schmeesky · 4 years

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Hiiii I was just curious if you haven’t answered this already: what made you like the Sinclairs brothers so much? I really love your art btw. 💕

besides my attraction to feral/disaster/bastard men and long haired isolationists

i saw the movie for the first time and just kind of latched on.

i’ve always been drawn to twin characters in media; mainly the whole yin/yang twist people usual shadow through them. seeing that in a horror movie just made me want to explore more (well, beyond the movie into fiction.) theyre both evil but they put theyre own opposite twists to it. bo is a charismatic charmer with a pension for torture. vincent is a deranged hermit who fell too deeply in love with his work to care about human life. those are some spicy character deets to examine, imo. even spicier though: what were they like domestically? how did they interact with each other when they weren’t up to no good? what kind of stuff did they fight about (cause lets face it, i don’t think they get along too hot sometimes)? what was their childhood like? too many questions and only crumbs of content from the movie.

and you know, if you don’t find the content that answers your questions, why not make it yourself?

also, lester is just the extra fries at the bottom of the bag; an unexpected but highly appreciated delight. he is the true neutral (sort of) icing on the yin/yang cake per-say. i have a soft spot for feral people too lol so thats probably why i like him so much.

i wish we got to see a little more about how they all three operate and exist as brothers, thats the shit i live for.

thank you for asking! ❤❤

#that was a fun tiny analysis #also #i know these fuckers are bad #im not excusing their actions #i just think theyre neat.jpg #schmee screams #spicy take i guess

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dansnaturepictures · 3 years

Photo

27th August 2021: Ring-necked Parakeet, Great Crested Grebe and Moorhen with young, Migrant Hawker and more at Lakeside and home

Sunshine greeted me once more as I got up this morning and I took the first picture in this photoset of a scene out the back and a nice sky scene as the morning went on. Before getting out for my lunch time Lakeside walk I enjoyed Woodpigeon, Collared Doves, Starling and House Sparrow in the garden and on the roof visible from my room with Woodpigeon and Starling combining nicely which was great for a photo once more I tweeted some photos of them on Dans_Pictures tonight. I took the second and third pictures in this photoset of berries by the entrance to Lakeside and a view there as I made my way towards the field north of the steam railway station and cut through the wooded area seeing a great Robin along the way in the southern fenced off nature reserve area where I’d not been for a little while.

Coming through here out towards the gate to the path south of this area and I was delighted to hear the high-pitched trill of a Ring-necked Parakeet. I walked up some steps and into the car park area and the sound became more prominent, not knowing if it was one bird first of all I pinpointed to a quite bushy and in full leaf tree. I stood there and walked around a bit for a fair few minutes and eventually was so excited to see this emerald beauty pretty well camouflaged within the tree just getting a view of it. It seemed to be alone. And I got the record shot in the fourth picture in this photoset of this bird I do really like which I was happy with. One of my best birding whilst working from home moments lately and one of my standout bird moments this month.

I have gone a bit quiet on the parakeets on here not seeing any since late spring, but as a brief recap these are birds that up until 2020 I only ever saw yearly on trips to Richmond Park and Bushy Park in autumn part of their London stronghold. But early last autumn I was amazed to spot some flying from my bedroom, but not totally unexpected as I knew a colony in the Southampton area was rather developing in a bit of a spread of the birds in the south. This made me extremely excited though and I photographed one at a distance the next time I saw them whizzing by. I just about saw one at Grantham Green a place I visited a lot when younger in the town too where others had spotted them. Then fast forward to this March 2021 and I was thrilled on a special spring day to see some at Lakeside my first on patch a very exciting moment. And I did have a decent sized handful of sightings of them at Lakeside this spring, flying and still with some intimate moments as it became surreal I was seeing them with some nesting nearby it was felt. But for one reason and another I’d not managed an outdoor local photo of one since they’ve been around and it became a bit of a quest to take a picture of one at Lakeside and with my big lens on my DSLR this year I was determined today and I was so happy to get the record shot.

Around here also I saw a lovely small brown butterfly a possible White-letter Hairstreak or something else. I took the fifth picture in this photoset looking over Concorde lake which I’d made it to and it did look so beautiful, as did the purple loosestrife still adorning the areas around it. I had come around here in the hope of another precious glimpse of the Great Crested Grebe family and very young chicks on this lake.

And I was over the moon to get to see them from the grassy walking area between the lakes and a vacant fishing jetty. I got exquisite views of this immensely beautiful group of birds with the two adults and three chicks. I really made the most of seeing these and appreciating them, and managed the sixth picture in this photoset among others of some. It was comical and quirky to see the adult who’s back the greblings were characteristically sat on have a little shake and inadvertently I am sure spilled their offspring onto the water surface. There was no need to worry with them soon clambering back on and I am sure it is good swimming practice too. An exceptional moment to observe with these phenomenal birds for me.

A deliciously blue Migrant Hawker darted past me over the water, a dragonfly that I saw for the first time in 2021 a week ago at Lyndon nature reserve at Rutland Water a star sighting today.

Then I loved seeing some little Moorhen chciks which were fluffy and adorable and they made a sweet little squeeky sound. Its been great to discover this fresh batch of chicks this week too in a week the Great Crested Grebes have dominated. I enjoyed taking in these lovely Moorhens a couple of times. I took the seventh picture in this photoset of the youngster and enjoyed seeing with its parent well getting a picture of them together which I tweeted.

I have to say my lunch time walk today was a brilliant bit of escapism in my day as it always is and it all of a sudden felt a lot busier for seeing wildlife, with maybe the variety of butterflies about decreasing and being in an in between stage in the bird world with the nesting season seemimgly all but over and autumnal migrants coming through lately and that’s not a criticism just what happens naturally. But this week new life has literally been breathed into the breeding season here and butterflies even to a lesser variety are still very much about, and of course dragonflies are really in their peak season now as I’ve observed so much this week. So this combined and all of a sudden I felt I saw a great deal at lunch time. On my way out I took a photo looking up towards the northern path area I needed to get to in order to walk back out and I just managed to photograph the steam of the passing train into a picture which was interesting to use.

After intending to do my frequent second walk in a day on a Friday when I finished work I was quite a way delayed as I was engrossed in some huge football news for my club. But this did prove useful as the sun rather disappeared around mid-morning and despite snatches of it starting to poke through didn’t really fully return until well after I had intended the walk so I did a bit of a later evening one in just like Wednesday’s evening walk in divine sunshine. It was really amazing to see and make the most of a lovely summer’s evening at the beautiful Lakeside. And around the estate and in Lakeside there were wonderful scenes such as the tarmac path which I have seen lit up by streelights and sunlight on a wet surface before lit simply by the sun with the landscape as a whole different to what I might normally see with angles of shadows tonight. It was a brilliant start to the weekned doing this which is what the second Friday walk is all about and it was great to see some wild carrot flowers looking stunning and bright around the estate on the way back which I got a picture of. I took the final three pictures in this photoset tonight of the steeplebush in our front garden and views at Lakeside looking gorgeous in the sun. A beautiful spider which I took and tweeted a photo of tonight awaited me in the living room when home a nice view of a lovely one and after seeing it in the morning again the bright blue sky before it got a bit overcast I enjoyed taking a photo of a very compelling and bright moon tonight a memorable one for sure. I hope you all have a nice and safe weekend.

Wildlife Sightings Summary: One of my favourite birds the Great Crested Grebe, Moorhen, Coot, Mallard, Black-headed Gull, Ring-necked Parakeet, Woodpigeon well at Lakeside and home, Collared Dove, some of the growing group of Feral Pigeons beyond the regular pair we nickname Violet and Rex now again, Starling, House Sparrow, Robin, Meadow Brown and Speckled Wood well, Small White, Migrant Hawker, a lovely hoverfly, fly and spider.

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secret-engima · 4 years

Text

Another Snippet of Fem!Drautos

(me and my gremlin muses: *evil delighted gremlin laughter that is for once of the non-angst kind*)

...

“They think we might be a couple,” Drautos commented once as they got ready for their regular spar.

“They’re idiots.” Cor scoffed in return.

Drautos tilted her head as they stepped up and exchanged the first few cautious blows with their practice weapons, “Because we’re professionals or because you don’t think I’m attractive?” She didn’t sound insulted, just blandly curious.

Cor ducked under her knife swipe, drove her back with a swift lunge that didn’t land, “The former.”

An amused eyebrow, “So I am attractive?”

Cor paused, raised an eyebrow in return, “What brought on the curiosity?”

Drautos prowled around him, looking for a gap in his guard, “I turned twenty last week.”

…He didn’t see how that related to their current conversation or activity, “Congratulations. I’ll buy you a drink once we’re off duty.”

She tried to kick his legs and he danced back, returned with an overhead strike that she had to block or get a nasty bruise, “With respect,” she grunted under the strength of his blow, “I’d rather have something else.”

Another flurry of blows between them with no room or breath for words. They came to a standstill with their wooden blades locked together, his strength keeping her from gaining ground but her rapidly growing height —she’d grown ten inches since before her capture he swore— and her twin daggers kept him from actually pushing her over, “And what’s that?” If it was something reasonable, he’d grant it. He usually tried to remember to get something for his Crownsguard when they hit a major milestone birthday —he didn’t always manage, there were a lot of Crownsguard and he was busy, but he tried and they always appreciated it—.

Her stance suddenly shifted, the daggers sliding to the side, dragging him off balance for just a moment that made him lurch forward-.

Her lips caught his, rough and hard, and his thoughts went blank with shock —he’d kissed before, of course he had, he’d spent his teenage years with Regis as a primary role model, flirting with and kissing girls had basically been a rite of passage, but he’d never expected Drautos to do it—.

A half-blink of time and he was on the floor, winded from the impact of landing on his back after his legs had been kicked out from under him. Drautos straddled him, one leg pinning his sword arm to his side and her knives crossed over his throat. She was grinning down at him, feral and clearly riding high on adrenaline, “Winning a spar against you just once and not getting court marshaled for it.”

Cor stared up at her, both of them breathing hard from the spar, his lips tingling from the rough kiss. Drautos’s chest was heaving with adrenaline and nerves, her pixie cut ruffled and her face alight with victory. She was dressed in a tank top and Crownsguard pants, and every inch of her arms and body he could see was muscle, and her teeth were bared like a wild thing, just daring him to take issue with her method of surprise attack.

He carefully caught the thought that she looked beautiful and crushed it down into the deepest parts of his mind, because he was her superior and she had only just turned twenty and a hundred other reasons he didn’t bother to think about because he wasn’t looking for excuses to deny an attraction that wasn’t there —that he wouldn’t allow to be there—. He took a deep breath, then let it out in a growling laugh, “Alright, Crownsguard. Just this once. Now get off.”

She climbed off him immediately, her smile still blinding, and her usual edge of anger painted over with satisfaction as she held out a hand, “Thank you, sir.”

Cor took the hand and let her help him up, already shaking his head in disbelief that she had tried that —and that it had worked on him, if only out of shock—, “What in the world gave you that idea. You try that in a real fight and you’ll be dead a thousand times over.”

Drautos shrugged, “I know, but I wasn’t in a real fight. I was going up against you, and I needed something to give me an edge, and nothing else had worked. So I thought maybe the most unexpected, stupid thing I could think of would. And it did.”

Cor snorted, “It won’t work a second time.” He spotted the flicker in her gaze and huffed, “Don’t. Even think about it. I’m letting it slide this once out of respect for the sheer audacity of it. Consider it a twentieth birthday present. You ever do that again to get a one up on me and I’ll beat your butt so deep into the ground they’ll turn the trench you leave behind into a moat.”

The threat did nothing to dampen her grin, “Understood, sir.”

#Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #fem!titus x cor #fem!titus #fem!drautos #NoW KisS

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imaginethebeautifulworld · 4 years

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since you've been writing a lot of spn stuff- can i request something with hands, autumn, & raphael. if not its ok!!!

My lovely, it is more than okay, and it is my pleasure. I hope you enjoy!

Patient eyes regarded darkening skies, glancing surreptitiously for the first flickers of lightning, counting each second between one breath of thunder and the next. The heavens were dancing in the fading violets of the setting sun, twinkling with their robust bedazzlement of stars. But the creeping greys and navies drew ever nearer, an ominous formation promising devastation should its warnings not be heeded. You took another sip of your drink, eyes slipping shut against the threat drawing nearer and nearer. Goose flesh rose on your arms as the barometric pressure continued to drop, electricity a near tangibility in the air. Still, you paid no mind, rather distracted by the delightful mixture of warmed spices harmonizing on your tongue before steadily making their way to settle within the cockles of your heart. The first hissing droplets of rain against the concrete made you pause, lowering your cup. Your eyes remained shut however, keenly listening to each huff of the wind, each furious growl of thunder. There was a righteous fury to this storm, rapidly centering itself around the small pavilion in which you had claimed temporary sanctuary. A small irritation of your own began to swell, enough to remove the contentment from your lips, eyes opening to narrow slits as you beheld the chaos beyond the wooden structure. Leaves formerly splattered in scarlets and golds and blazing siennas had been cast into murky waters, all vibrancy overwhelmed by the melancholic ferocity tossing them about in a whirlwind. Soft illumination from antiquated lanterns was subdued to dimmed pallor, spectral shifts shimmering against near impenetrable shadow. Somewhere nearby, but beyond line of sight, a tree creaked as it succumbed to the wind, the echo lost to the relentless chaos of the storm. Mild irritation grew into surging irascibility, cup set onto the wooden planks of the tabletop beneath you as you stood on the bench, devoid of any of the carefree optimism that had been so abundant earlier in the evening. "You can cut the theatrics; I'm not going anywhere!" Your words could have been nothing more than a bee's wing brushing against a flower petal, the shift of a spider's leg as it perfected another layer of its web; your proclamation was near unintelligible when faced with the terrible volume from the storm. But between the small shift in the direction of the wind and the answering roar of thunder- loudest of all- your confidence grew. Resolute, you leapt from your post, striding to the edge of your shelter, a feral smile crossing your lips with bitter abandon, doing well to hide the first twists of anxiety deep within your gut. You had worked so hard to create this confrontation, and now when presented with the grim reality of your circumstances, fear was worming its way through you, whispers from Panic tracing against your neck, her loathsome ally Doubt curling her fingers against your spine. Determined, you ignored those annoying agents of Chaos, stepping forward into the deluge. The first strike of lightning hit scarcely meters away, flash temporarily blinding you, crack deafening and shaking the ground beneath you. Reflexive instinct had you stumbling away, trying to shield yourself against the effects far too late. When your vision faded from jaded blue and thistle-tinted spots, phantasmal remnants of staring down the fulmination, you were at last able to truly cast your gaze upon your companion. Seething fury pooled around her, rage reflecting in the spark of her eyes. The shadow of a dozen wings played on the ground and in the canopy above you, shifting with each twist of the wind. Revulsion marred her features, the detestation eliciting a trace of contriteness deep within your chest. “Tell me why I shouldn’t smite you here and now.” The command was issued with all the potent magnificence of any Celestial, sparking trepidation deep within your soul. She towered over you, looming magnificence and vengeance mere moments from annihilation. Familiar blue danced in her eyes, a visceral reminder of how furious she truly was. But you had picked up on the plea within her decree. Shrouded beneath epochs of steadfast detachment was someone who felt so deeply, so thoroughly, that they had concealed themselves eons ago beneath a stern exterior, beneath a visage of a calculating strategist and general. The image was so strong, so consuming, she scarcely seemed aware of it herself sometimes. It was in those more intimate moments however when you began to read her, peering into the complexities of each mask she adorned. And in this moment, it was clear to see that beneath her fury, beneath her scorn, there was a searing pain in every movement she was making; more than all else, Raphael felt you had betrayed her, and that single sting of knowledge was more than sufficient for your gesture of surrender. "I'm sorry." Your placating tone did nothing to calm her, pulchritude somehow magnified through her scathing gaze. Encouraged by her lack of reply however, you took a cautious step forward, continuing your explanation. "I knew going to him would hurt you, and I still did it. You have every right to be pissed at me." "There are no words known to man in this world or the next to express-" There was a pause, a flicker of a scowl as she turned away from you, blue fading from her eyes as she surveyed the nearby trees. "You cut me deeply." Perhaps it was some remnant of stubborn indignation, or perhaps it was the inability to keep the passing thought contained, but Amara-help-you, the bite passed through your lips before you could restrain yourself. "At least the feeling's mutual." It was barely a breath, scarcely a coherent thought. Yet still she heard it, the words rippling through her wings as if she had been physically struck by them. Affronted gaze once more pinned you in place, the hairs along your nape rising in the face of thrumming electricity. "How dare you." She may have shouted or perhaps she had whispered; the hubris coating each syllable ate away at you, gnawing you in the ceaseless reminder that you were nothing compared to her. It was a logic that for years you had abided by, treading carefully alongside the ragtag collection of Hunters and Hosts, guarding your words and thoughts from Monsters and Malevolents alike. But much like the gods and goddesses of old, you had come to discover the immortals who walked the Earth were just as flawed as Humanity; you refused to display even a fraction of your fear in the face of her fury. "How dare I?" Memories assaulted you, vivid recollections of the hours spent raiding any literature you could find, the desperate summons to lesser Celestials, to Demons, to Pagans, to Fey, those excruciating evenings spent yearning for her presence, praying and cursing and crying into the darkest hours of the night. "How dare you!" Fervent prayers had proved useless, anxieties tying into fears and a dark web of self-doubt, eating away at your spirit. Desperation had left you precariously balanced on a precipice that surely would have damned you, had not one of the Archangels- the most unexpected- come to guide you back home. She had broken the oaths she made to you, disappearing from your side with no warning, no indications that she planned on returning. Having offered her your very soul, your every heartbeat, every inch of devotion- You had expected more care than what had been provided. Her touch had been so alien, her sweetest nothings oft hovering on the cusp of disturbing. But her love had been clear, her adoration shining as she watched you create, fondness blinding whenever you were lost in debate. She gave no indication of discontent, the warmongering visage that she brazenly wore crumbling to that of the Healer- curious, warm, and so full of life and light and hope and love that you could scarcely breathe around her. You had had no doubts of her affections, but her abandonment- Moisture stung your eyes, the yearning for those halcyon days depleting whatever pride you had been trying to maintain. Ferocity in your gaze, yet once more you turned to face her. "You abandoned me, Raphael." Your words sparked no form of reaction within her, nothing beyond the roiling rage radiating within her burnished orifices. "And still, you dared t-" "I did what I had to!" You spared her no mercy, once again stepping nearer, interrupting her condemnation before it could be truly vocalized. "We- I needed you." There was a flash of realization, so brief and sudden that had you not known her so well- not known by your own heartbeat the rhythm of her Grace, not known by memory the very slope of her eyes, not known by your very spirit the sensibilities within her- you surely would have missed the remorse reflecting in her eyes. "I needed you, Ra'phael. And you weren’t there.” The storm continued to rage all around you, fierce gale tossing loose twigs and leaves and rubbish from the nearest bins into a wall of relentless fury. Another flash of lightning electrified the air, the shadow of her wings nearly intimidating with their breadth. But you were long past the point of fear, beyond coercion. The very starlight that shimmered through her veins was as intimately familiar to you as the callouses on your own hands, and despite the severity of the storm around you- Not a drop of water had reached you, and only a few stray whispers of wind teased your eyelashes. For how angry you were, a sliver of hope embedded itself into your heart, a yearning to move past your own damnable pride now that you finally had her attention again. Her next words however, a low undercurrent of tension that echoed deep in your bones, forcefully smothered the flicker before it could fully begin to burn. “You forget your place, Oracle. I am not some pet,” she spat out, hauteur coating each syllable, grinding against your resolve. Raphael’s scowl, bitter expression coated in disdain, ate at your confidence, making you feel all that more insignificant in her presence. “I am the Wind and Skies. I am Majesty and Divinity; you are nothing more than an exiguous assemblage of quintessence.” The intensity of her proclamation- searing lightning, sharp tempest- wedged itself into your chest, corporeal reaction just as palpable as it would have been had she chosen instead to drive her halberd directly into your heart. This was not the being who had whispered stories of Creation into the pale hours of the morning, not the begrudging ally you had welcomed with equal wariness, the entity who you had come to see as so much more than a Primordial Agent of God. She used to smile for you, laughed with you. Aggrieved and enduring what felt a betrayal, your arms folded together in an attempt to shield yourself from further agony. Turning away from her, you nearly missed the transition in her expression, almost missed the pain in her own eyes. It was scarcely a flicker, but it was enough to give you pause, eyes narrowing in accusatory suspicion as she once more began to speak. “I have one final question for you, Oracle.” You had barely acknowledged her approach until she was standing right in front of you, wings folding away into their own stratum, features vulnerable in a way you had never seen before. She was fully unguarded, all traces of anger fallen from her frame, the crisp autumn air teasing loose strands of her hair. But it was her eyes- Timeless, boundless, beguiling in ways you could never even hope to describe- Her eyes drew you in, weaving into your curiousity, tugging so slightly at the tiniest shred of faith you had stubbornly clung to, hope having refused to retreat entirely. “How is it that someone so infinitesimal has so thoroughly ripped my plenary existence asunder?” Many of her English expressions were significantly outdated, but it was a rarity these days for her words to leave you completely befuddled. “What?” Her lips curled, a soft, achingly familiar smile creasing her features. There was a slight trace of mirth sparkling in her eyes, as well as some other unnamed emotion you didn’t dare wish for. You couldn’t look away even if you had longed to; the simple truth was that you were still spellbound by her presence, captivated by every motion. And that soft, gentle, affectionate smile- You hung your head in shame, desperately wishing you could cling to your anger, could somehow rid yourself of this depthless yearning. Her hand rose slowly, as if she were approaching a startled animal. The movement in your peripheral had you instinctively take a step back, once more studying the Archangel, now with far more confusion. “What it means, mi praevideat, is that I forgive you, and I apologise for departing without proper explanation.” Her words had only just reached you, spoken so softly that they nearly were lost to what remained of the breeze. You stared dumbly at her, doubting your own senses. It was inconceivable; Raphael was just as proud as her siblings, in many ways even more so. For her to be expressing any form of remorse- The light from one of the lanterns reflected in her eyes, the shifting shadows tugging you away from your suspicious rumination. You allowed yourself the diversion, taking a moment to study the eyes you had drowned in countless times before. Shifting axinite and bronze, and always that faint flicker of beryl- They were a cacophony of colour, ringing with a whole symphony of emotion. Doubt clung to you, your eyes narrowed as you tried to detect any insincerity from the Archangel. But her posture was tranquil, hands extended slightly from her sides in mimicry of a gesture you yourself had made thousands of times before. She was truly offering her atonement, truly regretted ever harming you. That simple asseveration was sufficient enough to pacify what had remained of your insecurities. Raphael sensed your crumbling barricades before you yourself could even begin to acknowledge them, meeting you directly, steering you safely into the harbour of her embrace. "I'm sorry," breathed tenderly against your temple, cautious fingers tracing new paths through your hair. You sighed, trying to continue grasping the threads of your anger, the fading traces of former anguish. But the memories were hazing away, all aching and suffering retreating under the Healer's tender supervision, adrenaline ebbing away with each breath. There was a moment when the atmosphere around you shifted, the cooled night air replaced with the glowing warmth of a candlelit room, torrential downpour replaced by the gentle medley of droplets against ancient windowpanes. Sometime in the hazy, blissful moments that followed, you had found yourself lying on a bed, the familiar hints of somnolence creeping ever closer. You had never dared to hope for anything beyond a few moments, had not dared to dream of the possibility you could weather the storm together. Your fingers drifted languidly across her back, pausing over each scar, every rise and fall of bone beneath her skin. You brushed aside stray feathers as you explored, giving into the inescapable smile at being bequeathed this vulnerability. An austere prayer of gratitude slipped past your subconscious, the smallest hint of praise to the most rebellious of Angels. You had to give the Devil his due; Lucifer still knew the exact words to prompt his kin into action. "It's highly impolite-" A drowsy voice interrupted your chain of thoughts, drawing your focus back to Raphael’s visage. Satisfied she had your attention, her eye closed once more, a small hint of bemusement coating her words. "-that you're thinking of my brother right now." Guilt summoned a wince from you, one you quickly shoved aside, favoring instead to fall once more to the empty space beside her, patient eyes taking in every crease, every pore, every millimetre of perfection to your beloved's physique. Surrender was a word neither of you would ever dare speak, but as you allowed yourself to relax in Raphael's embrace, your heavy eyes drifting gently over umber wings still sparkling with residual energy, you accepted the irrefutable truth of your circumstances. You had fallen irrevocably for an Archangel. And somewhere, only just piercing the cusps of whim and fancy, as you succumbed to the steady crescendo of slumber's sirenous strains, the lingering scents of cinnamon and petrichor drizzled softly on a breeze sighing: I love you, too.

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