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no-other-words · 3 years

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Just a Bit Closer

Synopsis: Xie Lian suggests taking a relaxing dip in the pond. Hua Cheng slightly freaks out. Rated T | 3400w | canon-divergent, fluff, domestic, slight angst [ Read on AO3 ]

Never again will he be so bold. His Highness follows a path of virtue. His Highness is to be untouched. His Highness—

“San Lang?”

Hua Cheng snaps his head up. Xie Lian’s attention is fully on him, his face half-curious half-amused. He hasn’t been aware that his hands were rolled into fists until now.

“It’s only a bath.”

His Highness is requesting him to bathe with him.

Hua Cheng gulps. He may be a ghost king, but he is not equipped to face this challenge.

---

Hua Cheng has endured much throughout his life.

As a child, love was an alien concept and no friend of his when endless beatings and hate had accompanied him. He’s worn battle scars that no young man’s body should ever had to receive. Wars had been waged against godly figures from the depths of Mount Tonglu to the skies of the Heavenly Court. His soul has died again and again for the anguish that had ceaselessly pierced his one person—yet it is also his soul that lives again and again and refuses to fade.

Hua Cheng is a Devastation, a ghost king, one of the Four Calamities, if not the strongest. His very name demands unwavering respect and brings even the strongest of martial gods to their trembling knees. He’s been through a lot but not one of his past challenges can come close to this.

In just a thin layer of white robe, Xie Lian stands in the middle of the pond. He’s pouring another bucket load of water over his head, completely unaware of the silver allure cast upon him by the soft of the moonlight. His under-robe does nothing to hide the rosy peaks of his hardened nipples, peeking from underneath.

It goads Hua Cheng for a little contact, a little taste.

Long locks of wet hair stick to his skin, drawing out the slender curves down his neck and bony ridges of his collarbones. A few stray strands wound up over Xie Lian’s lips and it reminds Hua Cheng of their kiss in the lake. Their first and most likely the only kiss. The one he bravely stole in the heat of the moment when all he’d meant to do is give Xie Lian a little help.

Necessary on Xie Lian’s part, completely out of line on Hua Cheng’s. He’d let his worst part get to him at the expense of His Highness’ comfort. It’s obvious from Xie Lian’s reaction—a boundary had been crossed that left the martial god catatonic to the point where he had to lie to get away from the situation. The only redeeming hope had been from within Qiandeng Temple, where Xie Lian had thankfully taken to its charm.

His eyebrows pinch and he looks away.

Never again will he be so bold. His Highness follows a path of virtue. His Highness is to be untouched. His Highness—

“San Lang?”

Hua Cheng snaps his head up. Xie Lian’s attention is fully on him, his face half-curious half-amused. He hasn’t been aware that his hands were rolled into fists until now.

“It’s only a bath.”

His Highness is requesting him to bathe with him.

Xie Lian moves to the bank. The closer he gets, the lower the water level around his body becomes and reveals a shapely waist perfect for grabbing onto. Once again, that good-for-nothing under-robe does the opposite of what it’s meant to do and only serves to feed Hua Cheng’s tainted, invasive mind. The translucent material, wet to the core, plasters nicely against Xie Lian’s skin, emitting a pale pink hue.

Hua Cheng gulps.

He may be a ghost king, but he is not equipped to face this challenge.

It had started with a simple question.

“Do ghost kings not take baths?”

Hua Cheng paused mid-sweep and looked back at Xie Lian curiously. They’d been fixing up Puqi Shrine and cleaning the grounds, after leaving it unattended for several days when they went off to catch a runaway fetus spirit. Things were winding down for the day, with Lang Ying washing dishes after a not-so-successful meal and Guzi put to sleep.

“N-not that I mean anything by it! I was just thinking, how we ran around all over the land recently and we just spent a whole day cleaning the shrine, and I haven’t seen you gone washing since.” Xie Lian stopped to reflect. “I suppose there aren’t suitable places around here to properly do so.”

Hua Cheng pulled a small smile and continued to sweep away the last of leaves into a corner. “Gege needn’t worry to justify his questions. Any curious thoughts arise, this San Lang will gladly answer. I don’t know about the other ones and I don’t care to, but this one does well to remember to be clean. It would be an offence not to.”

He faltered and quickly added, “Does gege think this San Lang is filthy? I will—”

“Ah no! Like you said, it was just a curious thought” Xie Lian says. His eyes then sparkled, caught bright under the gleam of moonlight. “How about we take a dip in the pond nearby? It’s a nice little spot I found not so long ago, with a waterfall. The night is still early. I’m sure it’ll help expel the last of the adrenaline from our recent voyage.”

Which is how Crimson Rain Sought Flower has found himself in this current predicament.

Much to Hua Cheng’s dismay, it doesn’t really expel much. If anything, it invites more adrenaline and that is not what he needs right now. To be so close, in the intimate space of such private practices—Hua Cheng calls upon the 800 years of learned patience and discipline.

Xie Lian is still waiting for him. “Something the matter? I promise, this time there are no demon babies in the water.”

“…I’m dirty.”

“That’s the point, San Lang.”

That unassuming smile graces his face, as ethereal under the night sky as the time when Hua Cheng pulled him out of the lake in rescue.

How can he say no to his god?

He feels an excited trembling at his side and Hua Cheng looks down to see E’Ming wiggling to get out. A soft chuckle runs through the air.

“See? Even E’Ming wants a wash.”

Hua Cheng slaps his weapon in annoyance. “Ignore it, gege. This thing just wants to play.”

As if Hua Cheng had said a magic word, the silk band around Xie Lian’s wrist slithers itself free and gently glides towards him. Without warning, Ruoye grabs him by the waist and tugs him into the pond. Hua Cheng surfaces just in time to hear Xie Lian laugh. It’s music in the making and he hopes to hear more of it for the rest of his time.

“Looks like Ruoye wants to play too,” Xie Lian teases.

E’Ming responds by unsheathing itself and splashing water towards the white ribbon. The two sentient weapons go at it nearby, chasing frantically at each other in an almost comic-like scene. It comes to a quick pause when E’Ming casts a rather large wave of water right in Xie Lian’s direction and Hua Cheng blocks the attack with his arm.

The demon lord shoots his weapon a cold killing look. Xie Lian meanwhile tugs on an assailing Ruoye and reminds all three of them, “gentle”.

Reprimanded, E’Ming and Ruoye calm down and go off to find other ways to play. Xie Lian then turns his attention back to Hua Cheng. “San Lang, will you hand me your robe? It’s gotten dirtied from all the chores today. I’ll wash it together with mine.”

If Hua Cheng still had a beating heart, it’d be skipping out from his chest. But he doesn’t and it’s a momentary reminder of the many boundaries he mustn’t cross over. He stands unmoving, a good distance from Xie Lian.

“Is Your Highness suggesting that he wishes to see this San Lang strip? That is quite a bold request.”

“Your outer robes, San Lang! No teasing, please.”

“This one wouldn’t dare.”

Nevertheless, Hua Cheng takes pride in observing the red flush on Xie Lian’s cheeks. Rosy and heated, it’s a gorgeous contrast to his pale white skin. He often wonders what other things can make Xie Lian blush like that. A simple touch on his neck, a nip at his ear, perhaps a kiss on his—

He stops. Stop stop stop. His Highness would not appreciate these inappropriate thoughts.

His Highness, who is currently scrubbing his clothes, as if it’s not a baseless and undeserving task for a martial god to do. He does it so earnestly, as he does with everything else. Xie Lian’s eyebrows scrunch with concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking out from habit. Hua Cheng quietly watches, peeking under his arms as he lathers soap into his hair. This is a treasured moment not to be missed.

“It’s not the grand bathhouse I’m sure San Lang has in his manor, but I find this spot to be very relaxing,” Xie Lian says in a soft tone. “Hidden astray from the main road, not a lot of villagers know of its location. Nature is untouched here and it helps me ground myself.”

“My bathhouse is nothing compared to this. If gege wishes, I can build a fence around the area. Prevent outsiders from trespassing.”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian chortles, “if people pass by, they pass by. If they don’t, they don’t. This place isn’t mine. None of it is, even Puqi Shrine. I’m merely borrowing the land from which the earth has gifted me.”

Hua Cheng sneaks a loving smile. He’s always admired this side of him.

After one final dunk in the water, Xie Lian wrings both their now-cleaned robes dry and drapes them over a low-hanging branch. He gives the red robe a long look, contemplation washing over.

“San Lang, if I may brazenly ask…”

Hua Cheng halts his scrubbing to give the man his full attention.

“Earlier when you said…it would be an offence…to whom would it be an offence?”

It takes several words out before Xie Lian flutters his gaze up to Hua Cheng, already bashful from making such an inquiry. But once Hua Cheng catches his eyes, he does all he can to hold them. He wills them not to look away, yearning to convey all the feelings locked inside. The fires, the bliss, the ten thousand words he’s thought up to say in the past eight hundred years. All the little tingles of emotions bottled up and will continue to be so for he has a beloved and that beloved cannot know.

Hua Cheng tilts his head slightly forward and softens his gaze. “Someone very important.”

A short moment of silence pass before Xie Lian hums in understanding. He grabs hold of the wooden bucket, floating forgotten nearby, and returns to his own washing.

“San Lang is a very earnest person.”

Only for his one god.

“Gege is not going to question further?”

“Whatever San Lang is willing to tell me, I will listen with gratitude. I trust you have your reasons.”

Hua Cheng purses his lips, not knowing what to do with this level of trust. So he dunks his head underwater and scrubs harshly at his hair. He’s determined to get all the dirt out. All that filth that sticks to him like a parasite, refusing to leave this place that Xie Lian considers his haven.

Get out. Get out get out get out. His Highness, in all his lack of self-preservation, has invited a Devastation for a private bath and all he wants to do is touch and feel and be close, so so close with him. Patience is his forte – it’s something he’s nurtured in the past centuries but there are moments of weakness. Moments like this when he cannot contain himself and wish he can kiss gege again.

Be a thief and steal another piece of bliss.

Hua Cheng lifts his head out, a thick curtain of black hair fall around his face. He’s done now, all necessary washing complete. He should get out of the pond and wait by the sidelines.

A warm hand places on his shoulder. Hua Cheng startles at Xie Lian’s sudden closeness.

“San Lang, that is not how you wash your hair,” Xie Lian chides, a slight pout to his displeased face. “You must treat it gently else you can get knots like that. Here, let me.”

Xie Lian pulls him towards the small waterfall in the corner, leading a winding path so they stay on a shallow path. Hua Cheng lets himself be turned around and a second later, feels gentle combing down his hair. He lowers himself to a kneeling position so Xie Lian doesn’t have to tip toe.

Somewhere in the depths of his chest, a ghost heart beats.

Here, under the lull of the waterfall and vigil of the moon, a god washes his follower’s hair. The consistent rhythm of Xie Lian’s fingers massaging soap on top of his scalp and combing through his hair length brings a soothing pleasure. It is here that Hua Cheng braves to think that once again, Xie Lian is okay with his touch.

“My mother used to brush my hair while I bathed.”

Somehow, Hua Cheng can imagine an overindulged young prince melting under his Empress Mother’s loving attention, just as he’s so lucky to be experiencing the same.

“Am I currently as well-behaved as gege was back then?”

Xie Lian answers with a light chuckle, “very. In fact, I was more of a troublemaker. I’d often want to go swimming and try to wiggle out of her grasps. Mother was always too lenient.”

“With good reason, I’m sure. Gege was a beloved son—” Hua Cheng stops, not wanting to bring up unsavoury memories, and quickly corrects himself. “And must have been very adorable in his mother’s eyes.”

His hair is tugged playfully. “Cheeky San Lang.”

Fingers run along his hairline, gently pulling back to catch every strand. When the same hand moves down to his ears and brushes against the outer skin, Hua Cheng shivers in delight. It feels like something forbidden, one he gladly welcomes. No one has ever come this close in contact and Hua Cheng resolves from here on out that only Xie Lian will have the privilege.

Washing turns to a pleasant session of grooming. Hua Cheng’s sure his hair is more than clean but he stays quiet in favour of Xie Lian’s touch. His eyes drift to a lazy close, the peace creeping up on him so sneakily that he almost misses Xie Lian’s murmurs.

“I don’t…I rarely reminisce on old memories, especially ones involving my parents. They were from so long ago.”

An image of the Xianle Empress flashes in Hua Cheng’s mind. She’d been looking worryingly over him, from that time when he’d been rescued from Xie Lian’s bastard cousin.

“Then San Lang is very happy that gege is sharing a piece of his memory with him.”

He’s rewarded with a final stroke of his hair before he’s pulled towards the waterfall.

“Come, rinse. Stand under here, the water is not that heavy.”

Hua Cheng dutifully complies, happy under Xie Lian’s full attention and care. When the waterfall hits him, he tips his head slightly back and feels the suds slide down his hair. He hums in pleasure.

“Gege is right, this is very relaxing.”

Hearing no response, Hua Cheng opens his eyes. Xie Lian is wearing a dazed look, his eyes round and staring at him almost in a trancelike state. Lips slightly parted, as if in shock after discovering something unexpected.

“Your Highness?”

That seems to shake Xie Lian out of his stupor. He swiftly looks away, a nervous smile slapped on to hide the quiver in his voice.

“Ah—sorry. You’re done. Clean now…I’ll leave you. Give you priva—ah!”

Xie Lian slips on a rock in an attempt to quickly turn away. Instincts take over and Hua Cheng moves to catch him by the waist, his arm holding firm.

“S-San Lang…”

Only when Hua Cheng registers that Xie Lian is safe and away from immediate harm that he notices their close proximity. Senses become hyperaware towards the man in his embrace—the heat emitting from Xie Lian’s stuttered breathes, the pounding of his very alive heart, the skin…

Oh the warm hot skin that sends tingles through every cell currently in contact with Hua Cheng. Only a mere thin material stands between them and it’s oddly erotic to feel the cold wetness. Hua Cheng flexes his arm and watches in satisfaction the way Xie Lian jumps. His muscles feel both hard and soft under his hold and Hua Cheng would like nothing but to memorize the ridges and curves.

“San Lang, I’m—I’m cold.”

This time, he’s barely whispering.

Hua Cheng takes mercy and slowly unwraps his arm around Xie Lian and steadies the man. “Gege, be careful.”

He receives no response but he doesn’t need to. That bright red blush on his face is enough to lift the heavy weight off his chest and unchain the shackles that has settled over ever since the time when Xie Lian scrambled away their kiss. Perhaps this is different.

Hua Cheng finishes rinsing himself under the waterfall, glancing over at Xie Lian from time to time making sure he’s alright. The god seems to be back to a normal state, no longer moving in jerky ways. They’re alright. It’s going to be okay.

He can stay by His Highness’ side for just a bit longer.

When time comes for them to wrap up, Hua Cheng grabs both of their outer robes from the branch. It’s still rather damp but better than having no covering on. Which…would be quite a problem because Xie Lian’s slowly getting out of the water, not even at all mindful of the obscene display he’s putting on.

Hua Cheng blames that under-robe once again. It molds perfectly to Xie Lian’s wet skin and paints a pretty pink picture of his naked body underneath. Hua Cheng accidentally catches sight of a rather perfectly-round bottom before looking away. Thick clouds roll over the moon, dampening any source of light. At least there is some protection to Xie Lian’s virtue by the night’s shadows.

But imagination doesn’t discriminate, not to a ghost king’s mind and definitely not to a cursed weapon with a cursed eye.

E’Ming jumps at the sight of Xie Lian, joyous to see its master’s beloved come up to the shore and even more so to see him…in that state. It does a shuddering whirl before launching itself at the man.

Hua Cheng makes a displeased sound and is about to snap his fingers when Ruoye whips around E’Ming and covers its red eye. The two weapons wrestle a short while before the scimitar gives and compliantly calms.

Hua Cheng huffs. Damn thing will have a beating later as punishment for even thinking of peeking.

Their walk back to Puqi Shrine is short but sweet. Now without the bright moon, there isn’t much light for Xie Lian to see. Luckily, Hua Cheng’s silver butterflies illuminate their path and the two take to an extra slow pace.

“They’re so lovely,” Xie Lian comments with a soft smile, a warm husk to his tone. He lifts a finger that a bold butterfly has landed on and watches its wings open and close. “I’ve seen them in action, but they’re so gentle and beautiful and—and…enchanting!”

Hua Cheng gives a teasing voice. “Gege, stop. San Lang can only take so many compliments in a day.”

“The butterflies, San Lang.”

“Oh? I guess I am none of these words that gege commends on.”

Xie Lian pauses and turns his attention on him. “That’s not what I mean! I said—well…San Lang is also gentle. And lovely.”

The smile on the ghost king’s face is ever-growing.

“Anyways! That was quite refreshing, right? I can already feel my muscles relax.”

He, too, can feel Xie Lian’s muscles. Hua Cheng’s fingers wiggle on impulse and he quickly brings his hands behind his back.

“Gege’s suggestions are always the best. I am at my cleanest state.”

Xie Lian laughs and the butterflies flutter to the musical cadence. One floats near Hua Cheng and he reaches to gently play with it. His hand grazes Hua Cheng’s shoulder and the latter promptly looks at Xie Lian, searching for any signs of discomfort.

None. Xie Lian is unaffected.

The butterflies grow more daring by the second and surround the god in an illuminating circle. He in turn gives every butterfly a chance of contact with his hands and hums in delight.

Hua Cheng relishes in the sight before him.

Perhaps it’s okay to be this close. Perhaps even in a way Hua Cheng hasn’t dared to think of before. And someday…maybe someday he can show His Highness just how close he desires to be.

---

a/n: somewhere between these paragraphs, dianxia drops the soap. cue shower-sex scene.

#hualian #tgcf #myfics #im so tired. ready to drop ded.#thank you cofferiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

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liukangmybeloved · 3 years

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everyone else is fighting for second {Mortal Kombat (2021)}

SPOILERS FOR MORTAL KOMBAT (2021)

Summary: Canon Divergent AU. Crack & Fluff. The team develops into something of a found family, which happens to include Cole's actual family. They take a day off from fighting to go to the fair, where the biggest question is 'who is Cole's daughter's favourite in the team?' Besides her dad, of course. Kano is very competitive about this question.

A/N: 1968 words. I will take a meat-tenderizer and FIX the canon and make it SOFT. i love cole young and mk 2021, if you don't like that, you've been warned. everybody lives/nobody dies AU & kano isn't a traitor. also imagine there's just like.... more time before the tournament. enough to become a found family. like i said, fluff & crack. warnings for swearing.

If Cole had it his way, Emily and Kano would have never met. He would be perfectly happy letting everyone else on the team meet her, but he's yet to hear a single sentence leave Kano's mouth that didn't include some colourful variation of 'fuck', 'shit', 'wanker', or 'cunt'. So unsurprisingly, he wasn't exactly eager to let his teenager daughter near the man who Sonya had literally called 'scum of the Earth', but alas.

"I'll be on my best behaviour, pinky-swear!" Kano's grin was all teeth as he'd held his pinky finger up to Cole's glowering face, wiggling it a little when Cole made no move to finish the pinky-swear.

"If you say - cunt -" and the word sounds so uncomfortable coming from Cole, he damn well looks uncomfortable just saying it, "within a hundred feet of her, I'll get Kung Lao to cut you in half." And he gesutres over to where Kung Lao and the rest of their ragtag bunch of misfits; the man in question had forgone his usual weapon for a more modern, soft-brimmed sunhat, but his jaunty wave to Kano at the sound of his name still managed to be menacing. The Australian shuddered in horror at the mere thought; at least he took the threat seriously.

"You don't have to be jealous, man," the threat seemed to only have dampened Kano's jovial attitude momentarily, as he's got a spring in his step as he follows Cole to the rest of the gathered champions, "Uncle Kano's gonna set a fuckin' - flippin' -" he corrects himself as Cole shoots him a warning look, "great example." Sonya barks a loud, derisive laugh as Cole sees fit to remind him that he's not Uncle Kano.

"Emily's a good kid," Liu Kang assures, kind and sincere.

"Yeah, she never even believes me when I tell her Kano's a dirty, little rat," Kung Lao smirks in the face of Kano's sudden outrage, and Cole is pretty sure that, despite it being Emily and Alison's idea, to give the team a day of levity and to bond, this might be the worst plan he's ever agreed to.

"This is a day of bonding, not of infighting," Raiden's voice joins them, followed by the God himself only moments later, which is enough to unite all the champions in confusion at his choice of wardrobe for the day. While still sporting a majority of his usual attire, somehow he'd managed to procure a t-shirt with a meme of all things on it, a personalised meme!

"I designed it myself, I think it turned out pretty okay; whaddya think?" Kano sounded far too proud of himself, looking at the cartoon drawing of what could only be Raiden himself pointing awkwardly at Thor as depicted in Marvel Comics, who was pointing back.

"We are both Gods of Thunder," Raiden explained, pointing to his own shirt; Sonya had gone wide-eyed, unsure of how to react, while Jaxx was doing his utmost not to burst out laughing.

"I... didn't know you knew what a meme was," Cole admits, though honestly, once the shock had worn off of, it was rather charming.

"I didn't know you knew what a meme was," Kano fired back, equally confused.

"I have a thirteen-year-old, of course I know what a meme is -" but then it seems to hit him just as it hits Sonya and Jax, and the three of them turn to the pair of confused, cave-dwelling, internet-free champions. None of them knew where to begin trying to explain the whole situation, but thankfully, Raiden chose that moment to open a lightning portal, and they all headed through quickly.

----

The night that Cole and his family had gone home after everything had gone down, the fighting, Sub-Zero, and the man he's pretty sure is the ghost of his ancestor, Emily had looked him dead in the eye and called him a super hero.

And then told him that his friends were really cool.

This was a sentiment that his new friends seemed to share about his family.

Cole quickly comes to realise that family isn't something a lot of the rest of the team have nowadays; they have each other, but for a lot of them, that's mostly it. He sits on an invite to dinner that he'd already ran past Alison several days ago, before inviting Liu Kang and Kung Lao over, if nothing else, to repay the hospitality they'd shown him so early on.

Alison's rule was that there was to be peace on their property; no training, no fighting, but the team was welcome as long as they didn't bring trouble to the door.

So then it was Sonya and Jaxx, who brought dessert when they came over.

Emily once asked what Thunder Gods ate. Did they eat? Cole wasn't sure. He extends an invite to Raiden anyways, but it's politely declined. The next time, however, he took up Cole's invite, mostly for the company, and to thank Alison and Emily for their patience; having Cole away so often wasn't easy, he'd be the first to acknowledge that. Alison appreciated the sentiment, as did Emily, though she was also just bursting with questions for the God, and he did his best to answer what he could.

Then finally - finally - after so long spent with the team, of most of them coming to find comfort and serenity in his home on the occasions that they need it, Kano is invited to Sunday lunch too.

----

"I know us champions and our super powers are pretty cool," Kano says to Emily, the moment they step through the lightning portal and emerge into the sunshine and the noise of the fair, "but I'm your favourite, right? Besides your old man, of course," and he rolls his eyes a little at that, as does Cole, for very different reasons, while Alison shoots Cole a questioning look. Thankfully she still does not trust Kano as far as she could throw him.

For her part, Emily answers incredibly diplomatically, sounding much older than her thirteen years, and quite a bit like her mother;

"Kano, you're a grown man, my approval shouldn't matter to you," she sounds sincere, which is completely undercut by Kung Lao sliding into step beside Kano.

"Which means you're not her favourite," he teases, and Kano practically growls back, embarrassed, while Emily calls out to Raiden that she likes his shirt. He practically beams.

"Not a lot of people will really get it, though," she points out, and Raiden muses on that for a moment.

"But I get it, and it's mine."

"Fair point," Emily nods at that, as their strange group steps up to buy tickets.

---

Emily spends more of the fair of people's shoulders than she does actually walking, which delights her endlessly. Mostly she's up on Jax's shoulders, and charges her cotton candy for the ride, ripping a small chunk from the one Cole had bought for her.

"It's weird seeing you all look so normal," she says to Sonya, the two of them in line for the Dodge 'Em Cars alongside Liu Kang and Kung Lao. Sonya grins, knows exactly what she means, gaze turning to the two members of the Shaolin Order of Light, not that anyone would know simply from looking at them now. Where Liu Kang had found a pair of trendy, ripped jeans was beyond Sonya's imagination.

"You look cool, though," Emily amended quickly, "I didn't realise you all would come to the fair, but I'm glad you did," she's smiling brightly as they get closer to the front of the line.

"Who did you expect to come along today?" Liu asks, eyes wide and curious. It wasn't that he was as competitive as Kung Lao or Kano, but he still found the child's interpretation of their group to be interesting. She knows, in some capacity, what they're capable off; she'd watched her father slice, dice, and kill Goro after all. The fact that she could think so highly of them speaks a lot to her capacity for kindness, or perhaps her childish naivety, but Liu preferred to think it was the former.

Emily, however, goes quiet, seems to be a little embarrassed. She mutters something, avoiding eye contact with any of them, and Liu goes to ask her to repeat herself, but she interrupts him while doing so;

"I wanted Dad to have a day off," she admitted, before adding, "and... and Lord Raiden; I don't think he's had a day off this millennium."

"It's good of you to look out for them," Sonya tells her fondly, "our team can be pretty single-minded, but we needed this day off, I think." And she gives Emily a pet on the shoulder, and lets her steer the tandem Car when they finally get a turn.

----

"It's me, right? I'm your favourite," Jax asks Emily over lunch, not because he genuinely believes it, but because it riles up Kano, and to a lesser extent, the competitive Liu Kang.

"Jax is one bad day away from pledging his allegiance to Skynet, he can't be your favourite -" Kano grumbles.

"Dad's my favourite," Emily reminds them sternly, and Cole has to hide his proud little smile, before she adds, "and mom's my favourite too, the rest of you, well of course you're all badass as hell -"

"Is it Liu? 'Cos he's pretty and you're, yanno, a teenage girl," Kano scowls at the warrior who'd been attempting to just quietly enjoy his basket of fries. Both Cole and Alison are wearing similarly murderous expressions, and Kano raised his hands in mock surrender, dropping his gaze.

"Actually," Emily said pointedly, despite the embarrassed flush on her cheeks, though she was mirroring her parents intensity, "my favourite is Raiden because he's literally a God that shoots lightning out of his hands, and you're now my least favourite because you're a rat bastard."

"I taught her that," Kung Lao was grinning from ear to ear, and when he and Emily look to each other, they share a definitive nod.

"How come he's allowed to teach her words like bastard?!" Kano demanded to know.

"Because you're a bastard," Sonya interjects.

Kano is thankfully quiet for the remainder of lunch, sulking at his end of the table as chatter returns to normal, returns to talk of how everyone else had been enjoying the day.

----

At the end of the day, Kano shoves a large, stuffed kangaroo at Emily that he'd won at the booth where you had to knock over bottles.

"Didn't even use me eye or anything; lost an hour of my life and fifty fuckin' dollars," he was grumbling, while Emily was examining the prize.

"You won this?" She seemed endeared by it, endeared by the thought that he'd put the time into winning it for her.

"'course I won it, can I stop being your least favourite now?" He asked, and Emily tucked the kangaroo beneath her arm, giving him an appraising look.

"You can't buy my loyalty -"

"Wouldn't want it if it could be bought, I know that shit from experience," Kano interjected, crossing his arms defensively, ignoring where Cole was glowering at him every time he swore.

"But you put time in, and effort, so you're back to third with everyone else."

"As long as none of those bastards is beating me, I'm okay with that."

As they headed to the exit, to where Raiden had created a lightning portal for them all to go home through, Emily reached out and punched Kano lightly in the shoulder.

"Thanks, Kano, it's pretty sweet that you care so much."

"Don't tell the others," he grumbled back.

"We've been with you all day," Jax calls out, "we already know."

#mortal kombat #liu kang #mortal kombat 2021 #kano #kung lao #cole young #raiden #jax briggs #emily young #alison young #sonya blade #mortal kombat fluff #mortal kombat fanfiction #lkmb

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radamazard · 3 years

Text

From Me to We

This is my piece for the DJWifiZine! Everyone who contributed to it is honestly awesome and so talented, so you should go check it out at @thedjwifizine

You can download it here!

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

The lights flickered in time with a tired sigh, throwing darkness over pages that had already left Nino feeling increasingly frustrated. What was it about old timey books that made them so… so obtuse!

Had it's previous owners meant to mock him? If so then he guessed they ought to congratulate themselves. Never before had anything left him feeling so completely and utterly defeated.

With that thought and a heavy groan, Nino let the tome hit the cushion beside him.

“Waaaaayzz,” he whined, earning a dry look from the kwami. “How the sweet heck am I meant to read this crap? No offence. I know this is, like, your idea of fun and all, buuuut…”

“None taken,” Wayzz replied, drifting down to sit upon his holder’s shoulder. “I understand that it is a rather…” he paused, seemingly taking a moment to choose his next words carefully. “...dull and dense text. But you were chosen to inherit this role, and with it comes certain responsibilities. Such as-”

“Readin’ old books drier than the Sahara Desert?” Nino scoffed, leaning back into the worn comfort of his couch.

“At least you’re allowed to read them!”

Ah, he was wondering when she was going to join the conversation.

Across the room from him, grumbling to herself from her squeaky desk chair, sat Alya. Her legs were crossed and her form hunched, a sure sign that she wasn't quite over being scolded by the tiny god of protection earlier this evening.

“Aww, come on, babe.” Nino attempted to assure her. “I promise, you're not missin’ out on anything exciting here!”

Well, not anything that he himself would find exciting. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't sure why he'd had the title of guardian thrust upon him. Hero stuff wasn't really something he was passionate about. It was just something he did outta a sense of duty.

Alya though? Now SHE was someone who woulda been squealing at the opportunity. She dug this kinda shit.

Thick, boring books full of lore and secrets that had to be decoded and unravelled?

The responsibility of deciding who was worthy of the same power they wielded, and who could never be allowed even near a miraculous?

The weight that such a position held, and the changes it would bring with it?

That was right up her alley!

It was the ultimate hero's life, all stress and life altering decisions and sooo much information that it made his brain wanna shrivel up and roll right outta his head. This was her dream, not his.

Yet here they sat, neither of them pleased with the cards they'd been dealt.

Man, was life ever a bitch.

“.... Okay, so maybe it'd be exciting to you,” Nino conceded as his girlfriend threw him an irritated glare, one that only softened as she took note of how exhausted he seemed.

Alya pulled herself away from her desk, crossing the room in a few quick steps before she dropped herself next to her beloved with a graceless thump.

“I know you're not trying to make me feel like shit, boo,” she assured him, although with how he slouched into her side Alya was getting the feeling that, perhaps, he felt he had failed in that. “It's just…”

A strong arm wrapped itself around Nino’s shoulder, and with one smooth motion he was pulled into the warmth of Alya’s embrace. It was a comfort, a silent reassurance that no ill feelings were shared between them. That even if the situation was less than ideal, they refused to let it sour their bond.

“Sucks major ass?”

“Couldn't have said it better myself, Neens~”

Alya felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips, one that was awfully contagious as she caught sight of the same beauty blossoming upon her boyfriend's gorgeous face.

“You know I'd give ya the damn title if I could, right?” Nino said with a slight shrug. “I wasn't really gunning for something like this. Or even remotely wanting it.”

“Maybe that's why the old fart gave it to ya,” Trixx chimed in, his sudden presence making the couple jolt comically. Alya threw a pointed look at her kwami, one that went entirely ignored by the mini master of mischief.

“Just saying! I mean, isn't that what boring old humans do? Give power to those that don't want it?”

“As much as I disagree with his choice of words and blatant disrespect for my former master,” Wayzz retorted with an air of annoyance. “Trixx does have a fair point. I do believe that Mas- that Fu’s choice, or at least part of it, was based on a lack of desire. One that does not desire power is far less likely to abuse it.”

Wayzz’s own lack of tactfulness earned him a nasty look, from both his chosen and his fiery partner. Unlike Trixx though, he at least had the decency to appear guilty, knowing that he lacked a certain level of social savvy. The fox instead had whizzed off to find a new place to nap. How typical of him.

“I did not mean anything offensive by it,” the kwami quickly added. “I do not believe that Miss Alya would ever abuse such power! You have proven to be a hero of great honour and responsibility, and I would never wish to besmirch your name with such dirty implications…”

“I'd hope not, little dude,” Nino said firmly, the sternness in his gaze starting to melt as Alya relaxed beside him, along with her grip that held his lanky frame. “I love ya, but Als is my frickin’ Queen. I ain't about to let anyone talk smack about her, not even you.”

“I would never. In fact, if it would assure your fears, I will let it be known that Miss Alya was Fu’s second pick.”

A beat of silence passed, broken only by the slight cry of shock that fell from Alya's slackened jaw.

“You… You can't be serious! Was I- I could of- What?!”

“Oh, but I am. You possess a brilliant mind, and a passion for knowledge and the history of us kwamis that is both pure and unrivalled by anyone alive today. To be completely honest, the perfect guardian lies somewhere between you both. It made the decision terribly hard…”

As he trailed off the silence returned. Unlike last time though, it stretched out, filling several long lasting minutes.

Nino felt Alya’s cheek come to rest upon his head, and even from where he rested, his face pressed into the crook of her neck, he could hear her heart race. Was it excitement, the idea that she was thought of so highly by someone she deeply respected? He hoped so. She deserved at least that.

No, she deserved so much more.

“You right there, Als?” Nino whispered against her skin, laying a gentle kiss to her thrumming pulse. To his delight he felt her shiver beneath his lips, egging him on to smother her in a flurry of feather light affections.

“I will be once you stop being such a damn lovable DORK,” Alya shot back, her cheeks ablaze. It wasn't often that Nino managed to catch her off guard as such, not that she was complaining of course. She loved him dearly, with his sweet tenderness and near endless patience for her more… wild ways.

But right now was meant to be serious talk time!

“Well excuuuuuse me, Princess!”

Oh, how her eyes rolled.

“Anyway, back to the topic at hand. You know, the one where I was ALMOST THE GUARDIAN? I seriously can't believe that I was this close to being allowed to read the same book that you wanna throw in a fire!” Up went her hands, and with them Wayzz, who hopped out of the way of any further hand shenanigans and took refuge on the arm of their couch.

“Like, come on universe! I'm sorry that we can't just fuse or mind meld or be co-guardians or something equally as ridiculous!”

“Man, that last one woulda been hella sweet. Could you imagine? This shit would be so much easier if we could tackle it together. That damn book would be halfway understood by the end of the year if you were actually allowed to read it!”

Together they sighed, almost dreamily, as though the idea was but a wish, one fit only for fairytales. Or perhaps a low budget rom com, like the ones they enjoyed playfully mocking every Friday evening. Ah, for their lives to be so stupidly simple.

“Don't even say it, babe. Don't give me dreams that can't be fulfil-”

“Co… Guardians?” Wayzz interjected, drawing their gazes to his suddenly pondering form. “I hadn't thought of that option. Neither of us had. It certainly isn't traditional, but Ma- but Fu has never been one to follow tradition. Does that truly matter now in the scheme of things?”

His tiny brow creased in deep thought, so much so that they feared he may give himself a headache. Then, without warning, the kwami was zipping across the room, coming to rest upon the coffee table where Nino’s phone lay.

“What are yo-”

“I am contacting Fu. This new guardianship is only days old, you see. We should still be able to make amendments. With this new idea presented I believe we may be able to reach a more agreeable situation for all.”

“You… You mean…”

“Yes, Miss Alya. Now please, a moment of silence.”

The couple shared a look of bewilderment, one that swiftly morphed into giddy delight as the meaning of Wayzz's words and the hushed conversation he was having, started to settle in.

“You don't think…?” She started.

“Heck yeah I think!”

“I wasn't even being- well okay, I HAD thought of it before, but I didn't seriously think that it could happen! But now it’s- Neens, I might-!”

Excited giggles burst forth between them, both barely able to contain the jittering joy that flourished between them. What once had seemed like a sore point now pulsed with a new life, promising a future that held them together closer than ever before.

Strange, how quickly one’s night could turn from a grouchy sort of sour to a sweet, bubbly delight.

Together they tittered, their conversation an excited mess of hardly hushed whispers and tightly gripped hands. The energy was punctured by a familiar, yet sharp throat clearing, which snapped their attention back to the awaiting kwami.

“Although our conversation was brief, and we will meet at a later date to discuss the details, we are both in agreement. A Co-Guardianship is something we are willing to trial. If you will both agree to this arrangement, that is.”

Wayzz watched with a delighted chuckle, already braced for the squeals and hollering of joy that were soon to follow. Ah, to be young and so wonderfully human, to find such happiness in something shared.

“Are you kidding, little dude? Of freaking course I agree to this shit! Als, did ya hear what he sa-”

“SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!” Alya shouted in pure, unfiltered glee. Within seconds she was reaching across her boyfriend, grabbing the tome that had been the source of so many nasty feelings not even half an hour ago.

Nino’s easy laugh filled her ears, and soon it vibrated against her lips, gobbled up by a kiss of pure, vibrant glee that left them both more than a little love drunk.

“I swear, I- no, WE won't let you down!”

We.

Yes, that had a nice ring to it.

We, as in friends.

We, as in lovers.

We, as in heroic partners.

We, the Co-Guardians of the Miraculous, together until death do us part.

#the djwifi zine #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #DJWifi #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #wayzz

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albatris · 4 years

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Hi hello I hope you're doing well and getting read to sn00ze soon, STS! Saturday! Yes! Cause you're an artist and a writer, I was wondering how much the two mediums bleed into each other? Does drawing something out help you visualise it better, or do they not really interact much at all?

hello hi hey there and happy storyteller saturday :D thank you for the question!! I hope ur having a cool day B)

and even though you sent this yesterday you telling me to sn00ze is equally applicable today as it is almost every day of the week so................ yep, I’ll be sure to get onto that at some point. you’re probably going to make a >:c face at me for answering this at 3:06am

anyway! this is an interesting question! and a good one! unfortunately it may not have a very interesting answer?

my initial response was gonna be that they don’t really bleed into each other at all, but then........ nah, they kinda do

(and then about halfway through typing this draft I was like But What About Undertow, and my response became “oh yeah they definitely do”, but I’ll get to that in a bit)

but yeah! I think my writing definitely influences my art! both in the sense that I tend to draw mostly story stuff, ‘cause I like my stories and drawing is fun, but also in terms of like....... inspiration! usually I have a pretty good image of stuff in my head already while I’m writing, n sometimes this image will make me go “hell yeah I vibe with this I wanna draw it”, but the art itself generally turns out nothing like what I envision and usually takes a life of its own ‘cause I’ll just end up drawing whatever looks cool hahahaha

so I get some neat experiments and doodles and weirdness in various art pieces that definitely stemmed from story daydreams, but probably aren’t super related to the story itself in the end :P y’all don’t see much of this stuff ‘cause I mostly just post character drawings lmao

(this is bc I’m most confident with character drawings, and I will fistfight Drawing Backgrounds And Scenes in a wendy’s parking lot any day of the week)

but kinda hopping back up for a sec, one example that IS related to the story is like

drawings I’ve done that are centred in ATDAO’s unreality aren’t actually a super good representation of what the unreality is actually like? or I mean. they could be. they can be! but the drawings are centred around very literal concrete representations of glitchy weirdness

whereas in the story itself (at least to start with) there’s much more a focus on the general looming Hey Something Is Horribly Wrong vibes and, like, the unravelling and bleeding together of senses, the way the narration changes (ie the way your own thought processes slowly start becoming completely foreign to you), n just........ glitchy weirdness, but not glitchy weirdness that you can visually represent, glitchy weirdness that is canonically in the category “you can experience this and have no way to process it because a human mind is not equipped to translate it and your senses have no way of taking it in”

n then I bring the body horror in full force but that’s neither here nor there

existential terror and uncanny valley vibes r hard to draw, y’know? so the drawings mostly just wind up as me having fun with the aesthetic hahaha

but yeah, art stuff stems from story daydreams, it’s very rare that story stuff will stem from art daydreams

character drawings were something I started doing just ‘cause I liked my characters and I was vibin, but they ended up being the one exception in that they DO tend to actively inspire the decisions I make in the story itself, unlike my other art

written descriptions of people are a weak point for me, generally I’ll kinda know at least the key aspects of what folks look like, but the descriptions I come up with on page are always frustratingly vague............. n drawing them out helps me fill in the blanks and give my descriptions a bit more life and personality IMO, ‘cause I mean

there’s little things about people’s appearances that are pretty personal, little quirks or habits they have, etc, that I wouldn’t think of in writing, whereas in art they just crop up naturally

and also sometimes I’ll write a description of a character or have an image of them in my head and I’ll be like Yeah This Is Them but then when I draw them my hands will just make their own decisions

and whatever the hands create is Law and Official Canon as far as I’m concerned, I will always trust the hands over my initial plans when it comes to characters, and they have not failed me so far

and now that I’ve gone on a whole spiel about how (outside of helping me pin down character details) creating art isn’t generally something that inspires a lot of story development or daydreams, it’s time for me to completely contradict that because, like I said earlier: Undertow

this is a WIP that came into existence purely from art inspiration! basically I came up with Aster’s design on the fly because someone was like “it’s genderqueer pride day” and I was like Oh Sick Time To Make A New Genderqueer OC

most of the characters in Undertow were drawn and designed long before I had any clue who they were or what their deal was. the entire premise of Aster as a character was born within like two hours from one silly doodle. then I was like “BUT WHAT IF SHE HAD FRIENDS” so I drew some friends, who ended up being Kit and Meg. n their relationships with each other and the kind of story in which they find themselves all just kind of spiralled out from a series of silly doodles and took on a life of their own :P

I think it’s a different scenario since Undertow exists purely as a vessel for shenanigans and self-indulgent nonsense, so I was feeling a lot less pressure to be grounded and serious, I could just throw things around like “amnesiac clairvoyant delivery driver with an illegal magic crime truck” and “necromancer who doesn’t believe in magic who wants to reanimate a t-rex to honour his dead wife” to see what stuck and I had no need to be like “hm, but is that Realistic, though?”

unrestrained summer fun!

it’s easier for me to let myself daydream in relation to art when there’s none of this pressure, which I think is what separates Undertow from my other projects c:

plus Undertow is the one WIP of mine that I’ve always pictured in a kind of episodic comic format, though I lack the skill set or the patience to pull this off hahaha

as such, most of my development for it comes in the form of messing around with the artistic side of things!! as it should be, I think

anyway that’s enough from me I think, thanks for reading, have a fantastic day, hope you see some cool birds (if you do please tell me about them)

#tracle0 #sts #storyteller saturday #long post

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hawkbucks · 4 years

Photo

Y’all like SteveTony? Good! So do I! Here are some of my absolute favorite fics ever written for the pairing. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do, and don’t forget to kudos and/or comment :D

(There are so many soulmate fics here. So many.)

All-Time Low by Sineala Rating: E Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 12060 Summary: Tony's lost his company to Obadiah Stane. He's lost it all: his money, his friends, his Avengers team... and his sobriety. Drunk, homeless, Tony is living on the streets, and when he runs out of liquor money, he sells the only thing he has left: his body. And one day, he has the exact wrong customer.

All That You Love, All That You Hate by laireshi Rating: T Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 25106 Summary: Director Stark is happily married to Steve Rogers. They have no secrets from each other, and quite a lot from the world—mainly that Steve Rogers is really The Captain, an infamous villain.

Unfortunately, the truly important secrets rarely stay hidden, and when Steve's identity gets revealed, Tony will do anything to keep them both safe.

He's a hero, but it might mean crossing a line that a villain would never even approach.

Amor Fati by citsiurtlanu Rating: T Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 15712 Summary: Tony Stark has always known what the words on his wrist are supposed to lead to. What he's never known is who the words are for.

Bereavement by nightwalker Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 3786 Summary: She sets her clipboard down on her lap and folds her hands over it. “I am very sorry for your loss, Agent Rogers.”

colours by laireshi Rating: T Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 1330 Summary: Steve draws in charcoal, sometimes thinking of how it would be to see colours. Everyone’s heard the legends, myths, stories; every person who’s found their soulmate has exclaimed in wonder, looking around. But it’s not something that could be described.

He doesn't see it for himself, not until he meets Iron Man.

Convention Exclusive by Sineala Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 5545 Summary: "I'm interested in commissioning a sketch," Iron Man said. He leaned forward, edging into Steve's personal space, splaying his gauntleted hands on the table. "I'd like you to draw me wearing only a tiny thong, with Captain America staring at my nearly-naked body in horror."

(Or: Steve Rogers, former artist for the Captain America comics, is signing autographs at a comics convention when he meets his biggest fan. Not an AU.)

Dispel by faite, laireshi Rating: T Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 3918 Summary: Steve is hit with a love spell, but he doesn't want it undone: he loves Tony and he's never been happier.

Follow in Your Footsteps by Sineala Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 6788 Summary: When Tony is twelve, his soulmate's name appears on his wrist. Unfortunately, it's hard to find out anything at all about Steve Rogers.It turns out there's a reason for that.

for none of them would save him by laireshi Rating: T Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 3288 Summary: “I'm dead, in your timeline,” Tony said, not a question.

Steve shrugged, quiet and broken. “Everyone is.”

Hard Reset by Kiyaar Rating: T Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 8798 Summary: “You used me,” Steve says, like he expected better.

“What are you going to do about it?” is all Tony ends up saying, pathetic and petulant and tired, though Steve has only ever recognized it as arrogance.

“Now?” Steve says, as if there will be a later. “Now, I’m going to beat you bloody.”

Hide Your Love Away by Sineala Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 33514 Summary: Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever.

When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

Nothing Pure Enough by Sineala Rating: M Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 2623 Summary: You shouldn't be able to develop a Hanahaki fixation on someone you've never met who's been dead for decades. But Tony has always been special.

now that we have seen each other by Mizzy Rating: Gen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 5235 Summary: Steve's crush on Iron Man seemed to him to be much more reasonable than his crush on Tony Stark. A meeting with some identical Avengers from another reality raises some important identity questions, though, and with their shattering revelations in tow, will Steve's heart survive this experience?

Secrets of a Successful Marriage by valtyr Rating: M Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 24118 Summary: Tony Stark lives a double life; he's secretly the supervillain known as Iron Man. But his loving husband Steve has a few secrets of his own, as Tony is about to discover.

Slipping off the Page into Your Hands by Sineala Rating: M Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 68149 Summary: Soulmates have their first words to each other written on their wrists. This should make it easy. For Steve and Tony, it is anything but. Steve's problem is that the future he has awoken into is nothing he was ever expecting: he has a soulmate now. Who might be a robot. And if his soulmate is Iron Man, how can he be so attracted to Tony Stark? It should be impossible. Tony's problem is that he is Iron Man, his soulmate is a man whom he in no way deserves, and he is going to fight everything in his heart and do his best to make sure Steve never, ever finds out the whole truth.

The Truth of It Is by nightwalker Rating: Gen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 635 Summary: You can't lie to your soulmate, everyone knows that. Tony's always thought it was just hype until he tries to sass Steve and the words freeze in his throat.

Think of This as Solving Problems (That Should Never Have Occurred) by Sineala Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 35216 Summary: No one knows Tony is Iron Man. Then Tony gets amnesia, and literally no one knows Tony is Iron Man.

Fake It by laireshi Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 1159 Summary: “Is it true you and Captain America are dating?” the journalist asked.

Tony gave her his most charming smile. “Captain America likes to keep his life private,” he said. “But he knew who I was when he kissed me.” Another fake, wide smile. “We’re very happy.”

Veridicality by Sineala Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 2480 Summary: When Steve is accidentally exposed to a truth serum, Tony learns that Steve has been keeping a lot of feelings hidden.

A Certain Affinity by miobambiino Rating: T Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 14956 Summary: "They were like that a lot nowadays, ever since they got back from their little kidnapping escapade. Sure, they’d been close before then - they all had - but now… it was different. They were close, close. Squishing up next to each other, whispering to one another, playing with each others hair, apparently.

Steve inwardly grimaced at himself. He was being bitter and petty, he knew that. But he couldn’t figure out why, though. His teammates were getting along, which is only a good thing. Especially considering how they started things off way back on the helicarrier. But since when were Tony and Nat this cosy?"

Aka Steve is jealous of Tony and Nat's friendship, gets the wrong idea, and requires a little help from Nat herself to get some well-needed perspective.

And Then There’s You by someonelsesheart Rating: T Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 5933 Summary: And it’s funny that they’re like this, isn't it, because there's Tony, too-clever and too-fast, always having to be moving, selfish and desperate and cruel, and then there’s Steve with his kindness, his slow smile and his patience, selfless and calm and kind to everything and everyone. They’re fire and ice, good and bad, and somehow, somehow, it works.

Or, Steve Rogers teaches Tony Stark how to love, one year at a time.

Be No Stranger (All Your Saints and Soldiers Remix) by jibrailis Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 5973 Summary: That's the twenty-first century love song, baby. Glitz and glamour and every one of us is a liar.

finding my way back to you by theappleppielifestyle Rating: Gen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 7266 Summary: Ten minutes after a botched attempt at proposing to Tony, Steve is thrown back in time.

Lost Together by FestiveFerret Rating: E Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 67977 Summary: Being trapped in a horrible world where some things are like home, and some things are terrifyingly not, is bad enough. But when it becomes clear that the people here come in pairs - and unpaired people are a threat - Steve and Tony are forced to pretend that they're a pair too, if they ever want to make it home alive.

The Spaces (Silences) Between by missbecky Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 4159 Summary: A sudden accident leaves Tony unable to speak.

Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended by Eudoxia Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Word Count: 4848 Summary: Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

A Thousand Kisses Deep by laireshi Crossover Between: Earth-616 & Earth-1610 Rating: M Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 3547 Summary: Steve doesn't seem too happy when Steve Rogers of Marvel Ultimate gets transported into their universe. He seems even less happy when Tony and the new Steve get closer to each other.

Imperfect Mirrors by Sineala Crossover Between: Earth-616 & Earth-199999 Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 9181 Summary: Two months since Ultron. Two hours since the mindwipe. Things haven't been going well for Tony Stark lately, in two different universes. But they just might be able to help each other out.

Did I forget a link? Did I link to the wrong story? Any other mistakes? Message me and I’ll fix it ASAP!

Please read all tags for the stories I have linked!

Happy reading!

#tag for anon #Graphic design is my passion.#dfaflkasjfal

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mychemicalficrecs · 4 years

Note

Hiya! Not sure if you do this, but would you be able to suggest some non-ao3 finished frerard fics? It seems I've read ao3's entire collection 😅 Thank you so much, you're honestly my favourite blog on here xx

Thanks for your kind words, Nonny! And... congratz on reading the entire ao3 tag, there are a lot of works there :D

Frank/Gerard is such a popular ship that I was actually able to find quite a lot from outside ao3.

Non-AO3 Frank/Gerard

Thing-Thing by sinsense, 43k, NC-17. When Gerard signed the admissions paperwork for the Fordhaven School for Boys, he knew he was signing up for four years of sexual frustration. No one was gay at Fordhaven. Gerard was all-too-aware that he would be a virgin until he graduated. In his senior year, though, this stupid gay freshman disproves Fordhaven's straightness, and throws Gerard's entire world off-kilter. Now, in between drawing, avoiding bullies, running an incredibly serious tabletop RP game, failing out of math, and hanging out with friends, Gerard is also busy kind of falling for this asshole who's way too young for him. It's not what he planned on, but it's what's happening. In conclusion: high school sucks.

I Think I Thought (I Saw You Try) by thatsfinewithus, ~3,000, NC-17. Welcome to some weird AU world in which Gee only does awesome comics and Frank is a vampire.

They Came From Outer Jersey! by thatsfinewithus, 25k, R. New London Fire is an elite fringe government force assigned the task of protecting the earth from some of its more interesting threats: those from beyond the atmosphere or even the universe. They've handled dangerous cases before, but they've never seen anything like...ZOMBIES FROM SPACE. Vampires, long hunted in lore and legend, are now the earth's only saviors. There is little information as to who sent the creatures until Mikey Way, head of the NLF, finds out more by being abducted. Is it too late for him? Is it too late for the earth? Find out how six vampires, one government general, and one frustrated comic book artist save the earth in...THEY CAME FROM OUTER JERSEY!!

I never told you what I do for a living. by not0_fuckin_kay, 60k+, PG-13 to NC-17. Frank Iero, male nurse at Pete Wentz's private hospital and possibly more to one new patient he can't keep his eyes off of. When a new pateint is brought in with amnesia, just days before Christmas, and with nothing but the clothes on his back and a strange drawing, it's left to Frank to find out who he is and what happened to him. When he does, it changes Frank's life forever, as he's thrust into love and health scares he never thought would complicate his life. This is the story of how he tries to make it through, juggling his job and his love-life and just trying to make things better. With Patrick the doctor, Bob the ward supervisor, Travis the unlikely therapist, and Mikey, the sometimes wannabe homicidal geek.

Of All The Hidden Corners by moneyes, ~44K, PG-13. An epic, adventurous tale filled with alternate universes, lords, mischief, magical powers, snark, boyfriends, and luck of the bad kind.

All We Are by lightisbreaking, 21k, R. Set in the future, where humans are on the brink of evolution. For the select few born with a special awareness of their own minds - an awareness which gives them abilities beyond the norm, life is suddenly a very dangerous thing. Frightened of what this could mean, the government set out to make this new race of humans extinct, telling the public that these people are mentally unstable defectives and must be kept under observation for the safety of the public. All of this brings together a rather odd troupe of people, hiding from the government and eventually having to protect one of their own when he's taken into custody. Superpowers AU!

Tell Us a Story by bexless, imogenedisease, 32k, NC-17. The world as these kids know it is ending, and Gabe Saporta is throwing the party. High school AU based on the movie Can't Hardly Wait.

Stay Right Here by idktbh, swagneto, 28k, R. Frank is involved in an accident which renders him paralyzed from the waist down. When Frank begins to withdraw into himself, his relationship with Gerard crumbles and the band faces the hardest decision they'll ever make: whether to continue playing or not. This is a story about how MCR copes with the biggest obstacle of their career so far.

Return to Spirit Lake by inpurity, 22k, R. Gerard Way has left Spirit Lake when he was eighteen to study to become a veterinary surgeon, and with no intention of ever coming back. Twelve years later he is back, carrying secrets of a life spent away from his family and friends, and the weight of a dark, painful sorrow. His old home town has not changed, but his life, and the lives of the people he will meet along the way, will never be the same.

These Friday Night Lights by faux-disco-sins, 21k, PG-13. Gerard is the head cheerleader and wears the cheer skirt, Frank is on the football team, Pete is the school mascot, Ryan is the school’s hobo journalist, Jon does photography for the yearbook, Spencer and Patrick are in the marching band, Gabe and Ray are AV techs who do a ESPN spin-off for the school, Bob is the big scary lineman, and Mikey tries to fit in while ignoring the fact that his older brother is wearing a skirt in public.

Of Love And Superpowers by mcrnut, 20k, NC-17. Seventeen year old Frank Iero is in his last year at Mutant High. He has a couple of good friends, is doing okay in school and even though he has some issues with his Mother, life is pretty great. That is, until one day, when he overhears some of the professors talking about the well-known Anti-Mutant organization HSA and how they have already broken into two Mutant Academies and are heading their way. Frank and his friends have to stick their heads together and try to solve the mystery, and as if Frank didn't have enough to think about already, he finds himself falling for his friend's older brother, Gerard.

Cypress Grove by slashxyouxup, 24k+, NC17. My Chemical Romance fight off a town of sperm hoarding, men hating, PMSing maniac women in order to save themselves from certain doom! Also, Frank and Gerard get closer than close while pretending to not be completely in love with each other. Mikeyway is not amused.

Sleepwalker by lyrical_tragedy, 73k, NC-17. Frank Iero is one of the best cops in New Jersey so it’s only natural that his boss dumps a seemingly unsolvable case on him and his colleague Bob Bryar. With no leads whatsoever Frank enlists the help of Gerard Way, a reclusive young man who experiences strong visions and dreams of events from the past and visions of the future. However, none of them could ever begin to expect the terrifying chain of events that come into play once they delve deeper into the unknown, questioning Frank’s very beliefs on what the world actually holds. A story of visions, sacrifices, over protective brothers and love all in the midst of the attempted destruction of the world. The devil’s got your number and he will come calling, until it’s nothing more than hell on earth.

Patience Is A Virtue (You Might Be Good Looking, But You Can’t Sleep With Yourself Tonight) by eflorentino, 22k, NC-17. Frank Iero’s biggest hero is Gerard Way; the outspoken, obnoxious lead singer of the multi-platinum selling band My Chemical Romance. His world changes completely when he finds himself suddenly shoved into the limelight, playing sell-out shows every night and earning more than his usual $6 an hour. However, the infamously homophobic frontman isn’t what Frank expects, and after mixed signals and unsolved revelations he learns that, with Gerard Way, things are never simple.

But Nobody Cares If You're Losing Yourself by red_ones_fly, 16k, NC-17. It took me a while to work out that there was something wrong with Gerard, he kept it hidden well and, really, he didn’t even know something was wrong with him. To him it seemed like normal, everyday stuff. He never found any of his behaviour out of the ordinary. To him it was just reality.’ After Gerard's grandma passes away his behaviour becomes strange. He becomes less outgoing and more paranoid. As Frank tries to work out what’s going on with his friend/love interest, between school, learning psychology and dealing with the jocks, he doesn’t realise just how bad it is.

Parks and Recreation by vinvy, 35k+, PG-13. Gerard Way is an art school drop out with no prospects, student loans to pay off, and a dead end job. His mother works too hard and his little brother Mikey is keeping secrets. His boss runs shady contracts and smiles too much. It's nothing special and he tells himself that he'll learn to make peace with that- in the meantime he's got to carve out a living that doesn't involve artwork. Really, he's going to be okay. Then a crazy homeless kid comes along and screws up Gerard's Adventures in Normal Employment with his hippie magic and soulless eyes. Gerard can't shake the feeling that this guy "isn't quite right" but he's too busy fending off the freak accidents that are following him around to worry about that particular winged freak.

Empire Boys by noctecaelum, 30k, NC-17. In the city that never sleeps, it's tough to get your foot in the door. While Gabe Saporta may find it easy to blend into the socialite scene; Gerard Way spends his day blending eyeshadow at Bloomingdales. As newcomer Frank triumphs in Women's Lingerie, Gerard sparks a bitter rivalry in the vicinity of Lexington and 59th; but there's no use crying over spilt coffee because things are about to fire up. Meanwhile, on the Upper East Side, Gabe Saporta is none too pleased to read a socialite-bashing article, but when confronting the writer, he doesn't expect to meet fresh faced, pretty-boy William Beckett, who turns out to be the biggest tease this side of the Downtown Dunkin' Donuts.

The Evolution Index by theficisalie, 32k, NC-17. In a world where superpowers are just another thing that can get you sent to boarding school, Frank Iero and his friends know what it's like to operate under heavy levels of stress. After all, they did spend their formative years under the wings of the United States Government's most widespread and successful initiatives; a program that was created to protect and train young Americans with superpowers to become functioning members of society. And, as a side-benefit, the government realized that not only were telepaths great at taking drink orders, but they could also be trained to be highly successful secret agents. Under the guidance of Frank's volatile and (literally) power-hungry boyfriend Gerard Way; Frank, Mikey Way, and Ray Toro are an accomplished team of super spies. When a handful of people from Frank's sordid past crop up during an investigation of rash Superhuman disappearances across the country, the team finds themselves challenged both on and off the field as they fight to solve the mysteries plaguing their beloved nation. Frank knows all too much about uncovering things that he'd rather keep hidden, but can he and his team unravel the intricate web of crime and kidnapping surrounding Chicago without losing themselves in the process?

A Good Ocean Gone Wrong by xoxxblitz7, 32k, NC-17. Titanic AU - The Way's are one of the richest families in America and sometimes being an artist requires the need to travel. On the doomed maiden voyage of Titanic old friends are found, new love is formed and put to the test and the most luxurious crossing of the Atlantic ocean becomes a fight for survival.

A Fanfiction (In Which Gerard Has A Secret Stash of Star Wars Fanfiction) by sparklefap, 10k, R. Frank finds Gerard's bizarrely erotic Star Wars fanfiction, and is both disturbed and aroused by it. Those feelings won't do for Frank. He seeks revenge.

#frank/gerard #frerard #fic rec list

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redrebecca · 5 years

Text

Fussy Eaters

Because trying to feed two toddlers is always a team effort

Warning(s): None

A/N: This had been in my docs for ages but i've finally got it finished so its all good now. Feedback is appreciated, have a god day!

Words: 1.8k

You gritted your teeth in frustration, a long staggered breath rushing from your nose as you resisted the urge to tug every single strand of your hair out.

“Raul, baby, please just eat some.” You moved the nemo themed spoon closer to his sealed lips but he turned his head the other way, effectively stopping you and the spoon in its tracks.

You dropped the spoon back into the bowl of Raul’s untouched tomato pasta and sighed in defeat. Usually he would eat it at such a speed you wondered whether he actually had a chance to taste it but tonight he wasn’t playing ball. So instead of having a night recovering from your stressful work shift curled up in your fluffy pyjama bottoms and one of your husbands old t-shirts, you were trying (and failing) to negotiate with a three year old. A situation you never thought you would find yourself in. “C’mon you need to eat something, I even put in extra cheese. You love extra cheese!” You hoped Raul would see the heaped amount of cheese in the pasta and maybe, just maybe eat a spoonful or two. But no, the toddler barely spared you a glance, never mind the pasta. You sat back in your chair and put your head in your hands.

Out of all your qualities he had to inherit your stubbornness.

Once you had regained your composure, you removed your hands and leaned forward so you were closer to where he was sat, small arms crossed against his chest and a pout. Just as you were about to grab onto the spoon, you stopped short as you noticed that the boy in the adjacent highchair had abandoned his fork (you were yet to trust Raul with anything remotely sharp) in his bowl.

“Leo,” You said slowly, your hand was still hung mid-air, just above Raul’s spoon, before you started to move it. He looked from his brother to you. “Why aren’t you eating?” You could actually feel your patience wearing away as each second ticked by. Oh the joys of parenting. He could sense the tension in your voice as you spoke and thought it best to stay quiet. “Leo Elijah Mendes, why aren’t you eating your pasta?” Even at his young age you could see the realization that you had just used the ‘full-name-card’ on him flash in his blue eyes.

“I don’t want it.” He mumbled, his eyes darting between you and his brother, who seemed blissfully unaware of your slowly increasing heartbeat and how your knee was starting to bounce.

“Tomato pasta is your favourite.” You said in a strained voice that was several octaves higher than it usually would be. Leo avoided your pleading gaze and focused on the designs on his fork, not wanting to upset his mum anymore. Raul, however, must have missed the memo Leo had gotten.

“I want something else.” He said, pushing his bowl to the opposite side of the tray. You looked over at him, silently willing him to eat his dinner and hopefully stop your hairs from growing grey – because by the rate they were testing you at recently, your hair would resemble that of an 80 year old by the time you reached 35.

“If you eat three big spoonfuls you can have something out of the biscuit tin.” You stood up and walked over to the sink, already knowing your efforts were wasted on the boys.

“I want ice cream!” Raul exclaimed, clapping his hands together and blatantly ignoring your offer.

“And I want a big glass of wine.” You muttered to yourself as you focused on calming your breathing down to a more sustainable rate.

Behind you, you heard the door to the kitchen open. You didn’t have to wonder who it was – the twins chorus of greeting their dad was all you needed to know that Shawn was the person who entered. “Hey boys.” He said, no doubt ruffling their hair. Moments later you felt the familiar pressure of his hand on your back and turned towards him, pressing your forehead into his t-shirt. He rubbed a hand up and down your back. It amazed you how such simple actions from Shawn could soothe you in seconds as you focused on the random patterns he was drawing along your spine. It was the low grumble of your stomach that pulled you back to reality. You huffed into his shirt at the thought of having to bargain with Raul once again. You weren’t entirely sure how a three year old had gained a higher position in the hierarchy than you, but he held all the cards (theoretically, of course. The last time his Aunty Aaliyah had given him a pack of cards he was adamant that he had to put every single one into his bottle of juice. Now the Mendes household owns a blackcurrant-stained pack of cards).

“Honey, have you eaten?” You shook your head and met his gaze, only to see the worry that clouded his brown eyes.

“I’m gonna get something after I get these two to eat, so don’t bother cooking for me.” You kissed his nose, loving the smile you received when you pulled back.

He glanced at the boys and stiffened. You noticed his sudden tension and turned to look where the twins were. Here we go again, you thought and rushed towards the two. “Raul do not throw your pasta!”

It had been twenty minutes, twenty torturous minutes since you had attempted to feed them. And in those twenty minutes you had achieved absolutely nothing. By this time, the pasta had turned so cold that there was no way the boys would eat it, so it was fair to say you were running out of options. The sound of the chair next to you being pulled out made you turn your head. Shawn put his plate down on the table and kissed your forehead before he sat down, scooting his chair closer to yours so he was in what he liked to call ‘kissing distance’. You sent him a tired smile and thanked him for the sip of his water he offered you.

“Dadda?” Raul’s voice caused both you and Shawn to look over. Shawn brought the glass away from his mouth and swallowed before answering.

“Yeah bud?”

“Can I have some?” Shawn’s eyebrows were furrowed as you glanced at him to see whether he had understood what his son was talking about. His facial expression complying that, like you, he had no idea what Raul was asking for

“What do you want?” Shawn asked, waiting patiently for him to explain. But his only response was pointing his little index finger to Shawn’s chicken and rice. It was almost comical the way you and Shawn looked up from his plate and to each other. He raised an eyebrow, to which you responded with a nod. He scooped a small piece of chicken with a few grains of rice onto his spoon and motioned for Raul to lean closer, to which he complied without any hesitation and opened his mouth. You stared in shock as you watched him willingly munch on the food. Why couldn’t he have done that earlier?

He clapped his hands and squealed. “More, more, more!” Shawn looked at you sceptically, ensuring that you were okay with Raul eating something that wasn’t his pasta. If this had happened about an hour earlier, you would’ve said no, but you were so exhausted that you weren’t bothered as long as they ate something. So you stood up to grab two bowls from the cabinet before returning to your seat. Shawn split his meal in half and handed the boys their new dishes. You both watched in surprise as they happily ate their food as if they hadn’t been completely refusing to eat at least 5 minutes earlier.

Shawn wrapped his arm around you and pulled you so close to his side that you were sat on his chair instead of yours. “Do you want me to order a pizza?” You nodded without hesitation into his shoulder – the idea of junk food sounding very appealing. But he didn’t move to grab his phone and try to find the local pizza delivery menu that was somewhere in the large stack of clutter that was in the drawer, instead he only held you closer. “What type of pasta were you trying to feed them?” He murmured into your ear, his hand brushing up and down your arm.

“Tomato” You mumbled into his shirt, your voice was barely audible but you could tell he heard by the snicker that left his lips.

“You thought my boys would eat tomato pasta?” He tutted. You lifted your head off your shoulder to send him a scolding look.

“I think our boys would love tomato pasta if their dad didn’t say how much he hated tomatoes at every,” You poked his side, making him squirm. “Single,” Another poke. “Opportunity.” He had grabbed your writs to restrict you from prodding him anymore. He shrugged, brushing off the blame,

“They’ve just got particular tastes.” You eyed him in an attempt to fathom whether or not he had intentionally quoted his own song. The mischievous glint in his eyes and the way the wrinkles appeared at the corners confirmed your suspicions. You shook your head with mock disappointment which evoked a hearty chuckle from him.

“What a loser.” You teased

“At least I’m not the one who married a loser.” He quipped. The smug look on his face was all you needed to know that he thought he had delivered the comeback equivalent of checkmate. But you spotted the loophole and ran with it. After all, his ego was getting to big.

“Aww baby!” You cooed in a high pitch voice. Shawn’s eyebrows furrowed – it definitely wasn’t his desired reaction. You pressed a kiss to his nose and plastered a sickly sweet smile onto your face which only deepened the crease along his brow. You leant in closer to him. “You just insulted yourself and complimented me, good one honey.” You patted his shoulder and untangled yourself from his arms to start the search for the pizza delivery leaflet.

“What I meant was- ”

“Nah-uh Shawnie, you said what you said. No backsies dude.” Your smug grin only widened when you heard his loud huff from his chair, but he quickly occupied himself with checking on the boys so you continued to rifle through the chaos that was your kitchen drawer. That was until the Canadian voice broke through the peace once again,

“Hey! Did you seriously ‘dude’ me?”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fluff #dad!shawn #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn x you #shawn x reader #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn peter raul mendes

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myssamyss · 5 years

Text

Wings and Horses Pt 3: A Family of Ten

To be read alongside the following LU comics from Jojo:

“Malon 1″

“Malon 2″

“Malon 3″

I won’t spend much time repeating what Jojo has already so masterfully portrayed.

Part 3: A Family of Ten

Malon tried to busy herself with chores each day as she waited for her husband’s return. She was feeding the cuccos when she caught sight of a group of people coming down the far road. She picked up her skirt and ran out the fence gate, past the stone piles beneath the shady tree, and toward the road.

She recognized Link’s good armor glinting in the sunlight at the head of the group. He was half-turned away from her, chatting to one of the eight young Hylians trailing behind him.

Her heart soared. Link was safe. Link was home.

“You’re back!!!” she shouted.

Link turned and caught her eyes across the remaining meters of grass and clover. They sprinted to each other and locked in a long-overdue kiss.

She wanted to draw out their reunion, but she could hear the boys beyond her husband whispering among themselves (along with the curious clink of what sounded like a bag of rupees). Another time.

She turned toward them with a welcoming smile and placed one hand on Link’s shining breastplate.

“Everyone, this is my wife, Malon,” her husband announced proudly.

She took in the large group of heroes standing before her. She had expected near-copies of her husband, but truly none of them looked much like her Link. Two were nearly a head shorter than she was! Though as she appraised them, she did notice a faint resemblance that the group shared, as if they were all distant cousins of a large family.

Malon felt a small twinge of dismay as she took in each face. She hoped to pick out her descendant just by looking at him, but any of these other Links could be him! She resigned herself to patience. For now.

“My husband has told me about you boys in his letters. It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” she said warmly. “Welcome to Lon Lon Ranch!”

The boys piled into the house and introductions were made. She reveled in meeting every new Link. She knew each one had a life of adventures to rival her husband. Though it pained her to imagine the dangers and troubles that brought these boys together, she was nevertheless glad to have so many people visiting their cozy home. She felt honored to provide these boys with a small opportunity for rest in their lives of hardship.

When she lay in bed preparing for sleep later that night, her heart was content. Link was home again. He had filled their kitchen to bursting with boys smiling and laughing and enjoying her cooking. She replayed some of the day’s best moments: The wonder in the Hero of Hyrule’s face when he discovered the fairies out in the yard. The Hero of the Wild cooking dinner elbow-to-elbow with her. The Hero of Twilight’s bashful reaction when she complimented his strength, and the Hero of Warriors’ pride when she took notice of his well-kept armor.

She wanted the chance to learn more about all of these wonderful boys.

The door to the bedroom creaked open slowly. Link tip-toed in.

“I’m awake, silly,” she called to him quietly.

“Oh,” he replied. “Well, in that case…” He strode to the bed without regard for the creaking floorboards and bent down to kiss her forehead gingerly.

“I love you,” he murmured, sliding a hand through her bangs.

She giggled. “I love you too. So, about that argument...”

Link groaned and straightened up. He spoke while walking to the other side of the bed. “Look, your father’s a grown man. I’m sorry, I just worry about you two when I’m away.”

“No, no, I know that. I meant, do you think we scared the boys off of marriage?” she asked jokingly. “I mean, the looks on their faces!”

Link smiled. “Not for an instant.” He pulled back the covers and lay down beside her. Though he made no outward sign, Malon knew he was grateful to be back in his own soft bed.

“Another question: which one is he??” she pried. She propped herself up on one elbow and stared down at her husband through the dimness. He had already closed his eye in relaxation.

A smile spread across his peaceful face.

“Tomorrow night,” he told her without opening his eye. “Let’s let the boys settle in for now.”

She frowned and lay back down. “Fine,” she said, playing at being hurt.

“You’ll love him, Malon,” he told her sleepily.

“I know, honey. I already do.”

***

The next day, the heroes were back to helping with ranch chores. After instructing the group on which jobs to do, Link sneaked away to spend a few moments with his wife. He found Malon in the kitchen, scrubbing a mountain of dishes left over from breakfast and the dinner before.

Link put a hand on her shoulder. “Darling, we have eight helpful young men outside, let me get someone to help you,” he told her.

“Will you get our grandson?” she shot back, turning her head to him and raising her eyebrows in a dare.

He smiled at her coyly. “I’ll bring whoever volunteers.”

A few moments later the back door creaked and three boys appeared in her kitchen. Among them was, to her surprise, the farmer. She eyed the Hero of Twilight suspiciously.

“Now, why would a farm boy like you give up chores under the sun to help me in the house?” she asked.

She wasn’t sure if he could read the playfulness in her voice, because the young man gulped, then shrugged. She let it be. She’d learn who the descendant was tonight. Link had promised.

She put the Hero of Sky and the Hero of Wind to work washing dishes.

“What about me?” Twilight asked. His eyes shone.

“You can help me with the pies,” she told him, taking note of the curious way he watched her. “Now that we have the dishes covered, I can focus on baking. We’ll put your strong arms to use cutting in butter for the crust.”

Twilight smiled, looking pleased. “Just tell me what to do,” he said agreeably.

The four of them set to work, chatting all the while.

“How long have you and Time been married?” Sky asked. “He’s much different with you. Relaxed.”

Ah, a romantic, Malon thought to herself as she tossed slivers of butter into her flour bowl. Judging from all his questions, Sky seemed keen on learning her entire love story with Link. Malon wondered who Sky’s special lady was. Perhaps he was taking notes.

“We’ve been married for years. Things aren’t always this relaxed between us,” Malon told them. “We’ve had plenty of bad times, bad moments, fights. Even last night we were arguing,” she pointed out.

“I mean, arguing is one thing, everybody does that,” Wind cut in. “But you and Time fighting? Can’t picture it. He likes you a lot.” He shrugged and returned to the plate he was drying.

“I like him a lot too,” she said with a grin. She handed Twilight two blunt knives for working the pie dough. “But sometimes things are hard,” she continued, “and he’s stubborn-”

The three boys laughed.

“-and I’m stubborn too. We’ve gone through some pretty hard things together.”

A bird perched on the windowsill outside. Sky glanced up at it and his eyes brightened.

“Spouses have to be like two wings on a bird, working together to stay in flight,” he said as if reciting a familiar quote. He smiled to himself and gazed thoughtfully out the window.

“Or like two horses to the same plow,” Twilight added as he sliced at the forming dough. “If one’s hurt, it’ll just draw the plow around in a circle and you’ll never finish the field.”

Malon laughed softly at the metaphor. She knew just what he meant.

Keeping her marriage with Link aloft (or to put it Twilight’s way, plowing forward) was hard work. Marrying a hero wasn’t her happy ending. It just opened up the possibility of a happy ending. Along the way was the rigorous daily work of confronting their trauma and flaws. Of course, a little Goddess magic to soothe their fears about future children didn’t hurt either.

She wondered again which boy was the legacy of all their work. Her feelings were mainly from curiosity at this point, she admitted to herself. Regardless of who was actually related to her by blood, her heart had already adopted them all.

#Linked Universe #linkeduniverse #lu #Time and Malon #Link and Malon #Malink #Hero of Time #Hero of Twilight #Hero of Sky #Hero of Wind #fluff #Finally some happy scenes as if these characters haven't been hurt enough #Legend of Zelda #LoZ #Honey and darling #Wings and Horses

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maikatc · 5 years

Text

Black Sun Tale | Bread and Water

Remember that this is only a first draft with minor edits, but have fun reading! Comments and reception is greatly appreciated! --- “What I came up with today? Uh…,” Flipped some pages, “I came up with two new characters earlier?”

The city streets screeched with traffic noise and crowds chattering, smoke surrounding the air with a bar across the avenue.

“Gabriel’s story’s kinda sad. He killed this guy named Wren, but they were like brothers.”

Off between two aged buildings, an alleyway poked out with barely any notice.

“He hates Zero- or Hiro now though. He’s the reason why Wren went crazy.”

The interior of the alley carried a scattered mess of blankets, journals, calendars, along with other miscellaneous things. Though a single journal stuck to being held, firm by the grasps of a boy.

His sickly pale skin complemented his unkempt and grimy black hair. While his twig body shivered by the gentle cold. His boney fingers pointed at drawings from his one of many journals towards the girl next to him. “That’s Gabe when he got mad at Dannie after finding out.” His voice rasped.

Observing the girl’s reaction, her expression perked to something of confusion. “How did Wren and Gabe get to that situation though?”

He rolled his eyes to the side. “I haven’t gotten that much into the backstory. But all I know is that they both got into a mess like Evie or Lucia.” Blinked twice. “It’s just that while Evie was mad at becoming a slave, Gabriel was mad because his entire life’s purpose was taken away from him… and he’s in denial about it being kinda his fault too.”

Her cocoa hair blocked the faces she made from the boy’s slouched position on the ground. However, she chirped up quickly enough. “Ayu, I’m really digging Gabriel right now.”

“Really,” Ayu questioned, sitting back up a little the process. “I thought he was kinda basic.”

“Yeah,” she turned her floor seat towards him, revealing her fair complexion made out of light makeup. “From what you told me so far. I’m guessing he’s being ignorant of his past mistakes completely and letting out all his anger to someone else, right? At least from what I can tell in this picture.”

“I guess so?”

“Okay, I didn’t screw up on reading the comic panel,” making a small clap with her hands. “That can be realistic if you do it right, but you can also mix in a theme with that-”

“Annette. No,” Ayu interrupted her. “When you talk about ‘theme’ and that stuff, I get more of a headache than every other minute of life,” he groaned.

“Do you want me to get you some ibuprofens?”

“I’m fine.”

Annette nodded. “Well other than that, I still feel bad for Hiro,” she pouted.

Ayu lifted a brow and eyed her. “He’s the one who trapped ten kids in a death maze.”

“But he’s trying to get better!”

He scoffed, “He still did bad things, that’s why Evie treated him like shit afterwards.”

“You’re the one giving him a redemption arc though?”

“I’m just trying to stay close to the original idea.” Ayu closed the book and chuck it to the side. “Even if I don’t really believe in it.”

Annette’s lips twitched. “He’s just trying to be a better person than before…”

“He was still a dick. Out of anything, you should be feeling bad for Wren.”

“How so?”

Ayu set his arms back. “He was lied to for most of his life and he only got killed in the end for having a different opinion, pretty much.”

“So, he’s pretty much a pity party?” Annette eyed him. Ayu already knew what she was telling with her expression.

“No. He just go fucked over too much because of both Gabriel and Zero.”

Annette rolled a shoulder, pulling back her hair in the process. “I guess I like all of them, anyways. I’m just still hoping you can pull it off well.” Her lashes fluttered in the dim lights. “Did you come up with Gabriel and Wren from your dreams again?”

Ayu hummed. “Kinda. I had a random dream last night where a guy shoots another guy with an arrow but gets sad about it. That’s how I got Wren’s death.”

“Anything else from it?”

“There was a bit more, but it’s blurry.”

“Any others dream while I haven’t been here,” She asked.

Ayu blinked. “I just have that, some girl screwing herself over and getting her friend dead, then nothing.”

Annette hesitated with her words. “No dreams of Lillie?”

Ayu paused, seeing Annette flinch from her own question. He buried his hands in his hoodie pockets and looked down. “… None of those.”

She apologized with her eyes narrowed. The area went silent for the two. A minute? Two? Ayu couldn’t tell. He could barely count with patience.

“How long have you been here?”

“Huh? About an hour, I think…” She brought her phone to her view, checking the time. “God, we spent a lot of time goofing off.”

“You have homework, don’t you? You should go home, school’s tomorrow anyways.”

“… Right.” Annette stood up, her tall figure looming before Ayu. A second of standing still, she face-palmed herself. “Oh god, I have three projects to do.”

“Then get on to it,” Ayu joked.

“Yeah, yeah.” Annette grabbed back her already cleaned up board game and binder. “I’ll see you another time then.”

Before taking a turn back home, a “Bye” could be heard quietly over a car honking.

Ayu studied the outside of the alleyway in silence. Every second brought a new face passing by, and it brought the reminder that no one noticed him staring. A child, a couple, a group of teens, they all went their own ways, not even taking a glance of something that’s nonexistent for them.

The boy groaned, turning back and plopping his head to a pillow, gifted by Annette. As he slammed his body to the ground, the rough concrete hit him back. He winced like every other day when he fell over from exhaustion. Though, the routine of his ‘home’ was redundant.

He muttered in his own silence, “Ow.”

At least he had a pillow unlike the first two years of four when living in the alleyway.

Laying down, still and blank, Ayu sighed and grabbed his journal from the side again. He flipped through the thin paper, skimming past the art he made, and stopped at the next blank page. He crawled to grab the pencil he left on the other side of the alley earlier in the day, and crawled back to his pillow to write:

October 21st 201X

Came up with new caracters today, dont know what to do

Did noting else today, like usuel

I got a litle mad at Annette, probly was a bad idea

No monsters, No Akeldama

As Ayu moved his arms to store the book away, a voice halted him.

“Looks like you’ll be having an insipid time again.”

Ayu jumped, sitting immediately and twisting his head around. Finding nothing, he sighed, “Speak of the Devil…” He then crossed out the note of ‘No Akeldama’ for the day.

“Did you miss me from last time?”

Ayu leaned back to the rigid wall, conversing with the voice ringing across his head. “Just tell me what the hell is going on,” he groaned.

“Oh child, you won’t be getting that anytime soon for sure,” The voice mocked him.

“You’ve been telling that to me for how long?”

“I don’t know in all honestly, I’ve lost track of time after my first hundred years.”

Ayu leered at nothing. “Four years, Akeldama. Four years.”

“Ah right, you’re twelve now, correct?”

“Yeah. Turned twelve last June.”

“Well, aside from that, have you met any new people?”

Ayu sighed. “I haven’t, luckily.”

“What a pity,” Akeldama sneered, “You were the kid that pouted about being lonely, yet once you get a friend, you don’t even want another one anymore.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re just a greedy brat.”

“What do you want now Akeldama?” Ayu’s mind raced quickly, his heart beating rapidly.

“I was simply here to check if you were the same as before, which you are by the way,” he muttered. “Though I’m also here for something else on the matter of you.”

“Dear god, what now?”

“Funny calling me ‘god’,” he chuckled, “but I think you’ll soon meet somebody you’ll get along with.”

“Wait…,” Ayu murmured. His eyes widened. “Akeldama don’t tell me-”

“You’ll be having fun for the next few months. I promise,” he reassured him.

“You fucker,” Ayu yelled, slamming his fists onto the hard ground. Though, he brought both of them up immediately from the pain, gasping at the impact of the floor cracking. He held both tightly against one another as they both burned.

“God, damn it Akeldama…”

No reply.

Ayu placed his head down into his knees and closed his eyes. His boney joints pressed against his forehead. Two deep breaths, then hold.

He pulled his head back after seconds, groaning, “Why did I decide to go through with this…?”

Ayu’s eyes flutter back open as his stomach made a painful growl.

“Right…” He clicked against his chapped lips. “When was the last time I ate?”

The growl reminded him of the stomach pain from recent days, aching as he puckered. The pain bothered him, but Annette already left to his dismay.

“I need to get food now then,” he muttered to himself.

He hopped up from his sitting position, his bone-thin legs freezing up from the cold. Exiting the alleyway, Ayu turned to the grocery store route.

He pulled up his hoodie quickly, his tired eyes being protected from the soft light. And he ventured out to treat himself to food and water rations.

A jug of water and a bag of bread, Ayu repeated to himself multiple times.

The shop held multiple items to Ayu’s attention. Aisles carried shiny toys, colorful pencils and journals, to junk food and candy. Ayu stared at the chips bar, slurping up the slight drool dripping out of him. He shook his head. Bread and water. Bread and water.

How long had it been for the boy to have a nice meal? When was the last time he had the sweets he loved?

Bread and water.

When was his last chip binge? His coloring book sessions and playtime?

Stop being a bitch and get what you need already. He scolded in his head.

He dashed to an unfamiliar aisle so his mind wouldn’t get dragged elsewhere. Stacks and piles of paper towels and toilet paper surrounded him through his short walk to the bakery. His head bobbed in a sigh that he didn’t need anything of such thanks to shop bathrooms and recreation center showers.

However, as soon as he exited the aisle, aromas of pastries and baked goods filled his senses. He ignored it since the shop’s goods were usually too sweet for him despite his tooth. Walking down, he read through the brands of bread, squinted his eyes to spell and read out some words himself. It was only until his found a decent bag of bread rolls did he go off to the drinks section.

The sodas and fizzy pops caught eyes of most, though Ayu’s tongue had more of a distaste for it. He turned from the bright and dazzling colors to the row of water jugs. His memory of measurements buzzed in his mind, though not enough to remember how much a liter was compared to a gallon.

After staring, his mind boggling on which was which, Ayu gave up and choose which one seemed like the largest.

Ayu ended up carrying the bread rolls in one hand and the three-gallon jug of water with the other by his stick arms. He walked out of the aisle, closing in on the exit.

He stepped with hesitant feet. His head twisted and turned to assure nobody near him. A single bump from someone else and he could be done for the day.

He swept through the cashiers. His scattered gaze wandered through all of them left and right. But in a single heartbeat, his body already went passed them unlike his mind.

Ayu sighed and took a step towards the store exit. His guilt cultivated him like every other time he’s done this. It’s better for me. Even if I don’t actually need it-

A grip of a hand pulled him back from leaving. Ayu’s heart froze as his breath started to stutter immediately. He turned slowly, and echo of a voice ringing loudly to him. I’m fucked.

“Hey…” He saw the face of the one who grabbed him by the arm. He was around the same age as him, younger maybe, but shorter for sure. “Hey…” His light brown skin shined by the store’s lights along with the freckles dotted around his nose and cheeks. While his soft green eyes glared at him in confusion. His dark red hair was also a first for Ayu to see-

“Hey!” the kid repeated himself. Ayu blinked spastically, his breathing still frigid. “What are you doing with that?”

---

Ten Dollars | Next>>>

#writing #my writing #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #black sun tale #bst #chapter 2 #starvation warning #swearing warning #emotional abuse #minor on the last part though #bst ayu #bst annette #bst akeldama

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theamazingcaptdeadpool · 6 years

Text

Sinday Meme for Characters Who Share a Brain

The original meme can be found here: x Characters: Wade Wilson (@theamazingcaptdeadpool), Frank Castle (@mementomorimthrfckr) and Ajax (@cantfeelsht) Warning: An abundance of words, massive TMI, cursing duh, threats double duh, Any complaints may be directed at our lawyer; @hellsainted

Frank scoffed as Wade had spent the last three minutes trying to figure out a title, brainstorming no pun intended with himself – and the result he landed on you already read. “That sounds terrible, Wade.” he grumbled and sipped his coffee. A sort of bribe to get him to partake in the thing. “You come up with a better one then, Skulls, and we’ll use that.” Wade fired back, thankful that Frank wasn’t known for his creativity. “What was wrong with the original title?” Ajax wanted to know and crossed his arms. He was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, watching the other two with what one could describe as ‘calm suspiciousness’. “It was too long.” Wade complained. “Not catchy. And we’re replying as ourselves. The original title suggested that the co-pilot do it for us. Or arms dealer. Or whatever the hell you call her.” he explained, because he could see Frank straining as he tried to work it out. Be nice Wade. I’m always nice. “Why don’t we just get this over with.” Ajax’s stare moved from Frank to Wade. His former subject was the most keen on this, after all – surely he would kick it off. “Best idea you’ve had, Francis.” Wade murmured as he counted the questions of the meme. “Alright, there are twenty questions. Let the sinning commence!” he clapped his hands and rubbed his palms eagerly.

“Jesus,” Frank exclaimed and leaned over the table, snatching the laptop from the merc with a dirty imagination mouth. “I’ll read these.” He glowered at Wade who raised his hands in defeat. There was no point in challenging the Punisher this early in the game. “What muse needs the most attention on sinday?” Frank read and for some reason found himself looking glumly up at Ajax who shook his head. “Wade it is then.” It wasn’t that Frank wouldn’t mind the attention… he just wouldn’t actively seek it. “Yeah, that’s a no brainer.” Wade murmured, he had somehow produced whiteboard signs and written “Me!” on one side and “Not me!” on the other. What? I came prepared. I always do. Yes, that is me being suggestive. He gave one to Ajax who reluctantly accepted. “Just making it easier for us.” He explained, surprisingly caring. “Whatever it takes to shut you up,” Ajax looked at both sides to make sure he hadn’t written anything funny on his.

“Easy, Francis,” Wade began only to be interrupted by Frank who read the next question loudly. “Which muse usually stays silent on sinday?” Frank sniffed. He hadn’t partaken in any sindays, yet. “I’m not it.” Wade said quickly. “I love me some sinday. Actually every day is sinday in my book. Doesn’t always have to be sex. Severe procrastination. Excess eating. Pillows of blow…” “You ever hear of TMI?” Frank put the laptop down on the table with more force than he intended.

Wade wiped one of the sides of his sign clear and wrote “NO!” only to hold it up for Frank to see. None of them had noticed how Ajax was holding up his own sign reading “Me!” and it took all his effort not to wack Wade in the back of the head with it. “Let’s move on.” Ajax shot in, before Wade could start one of his endless rambles. Frank glared at Wade like a teacher glare at the kid in class that won’t ever stay silent – that they’re afraid to take their eyes off because they know they’ll cause trouble. “Share some headcanons about your muses’ sexual and/or romantic orientation… You want to go first, Ajax?” Frank offered without looking at him. “Francis.” Wade corrected him. “Can’t feel. He can’t get it up – and can’t get it off.” Ajax closed his eyes, his jaw tense. “Wade is right.” he murmured. “I’m asexual. Except for specific muses. That has to be talked over in detail.” “Contracts has to be signed. Very Christian Grey. Wouldn’t play with him.” Wade turned towards the room and whispered to no one. Well, at least none that Frank and Ajax were aware of. They shared a moment of confusion, waiting for something to happen – someone to reply. As the silence bordered awkward Frank nodded and continued with the survey; “I’m bi with a preference towards women, but I’m not really looking for anything.” His voice was low. He wet his lips and averted his eyes, bouncing his foot impatiently.

“I’m pan – the comics has me paired up with women and Spiderman. Over here, meaning Tumblr, I have a preference towards men.” Wade stated the obvious. Frank drew a breath to read the next question, but then Wade continued; “Men with metal arms. Men that are Avengers. Men that’s purple… Is that even a man?” “You done?” Frank wanted to know. They’d missed how Wade had fixed the other side of his sign – and was now holding up a “YES!”. “What are your favourite ship for your muses?” Frank was visibly confused by the question. “For me it’s the Millenium Falcon,” Wade answered – hoping it would make it easier for the not so shockingly thick marine. “Oh, and I love my warship.” “I don’t ship.” Ajax shrugged. He saw no need to. “Cablepool, Winterpool, Cappool, Hawkpool – the one with Colossus, I forgot its name…” Wade counted on his fingers. “Thunderpool is kinda cute.” “You any idea what he’s on about?” Frank turned towards Ajax. “You don’t want to know, mate.” Ajax said with a sigh. “It’s a question about who you see yourself with.” “No one.” Frank answered shortly. He couldn’t be with anyone, because whoever got close to him ended up dead or worse.

“Why so glum sugarplum?” Wade leaned forward. “What about Castlevania?” “Are you…” Frank was about to get fired up but by some miracle managed to compose himself. He cleared his throat and shifted. “Nevermind. The next question – “ Frank decided he best ignore the entire thing; he thought they were done with Castlevania. He was not to be ‘shipped’ as the kids called it – with Dracula. “Which muse is the kinkiest?” “Next!” Wade called – he was holding up his sign. “Me!” it read. And maybe that was the truth. Wade is into a lot of things, after all… “Which muse has the strangest kinks?” Frank read warily. Wade slammed his sign down on the table to grab everyone’s attention and held it up again. He pointed to it and looked between the other two; “Unless you want to list some kinks?” “Next.” Ajax nodded towards the screen. “You sure, Francis? I won’t kink shame. Maybe I could interest you in – “ “Next!” Ajax insisted. “Choose one muse and tell us how they lost their virginity.” Frank read. He thought perhaps they could draw straws or… “Rock papers scissors lizard Spock.” Wade said with remarkable speed and accuracy.

“I lost mine to and older girl at one of the many orphanages I visited.” Ajax said flatly, wanting them to believe that it hadn’t really mattered. “You’re so boring, Francis.” Wade pouted. “At least give us some details.” “It was quick, messy and left me wanting more.” Ajax squared his jaw. “Satisfied?” “Unlike you’ll ever be again; yes. Thank you. I’m touched, Francis.” Wade sniffed as if he was sincerely moved, whilst Frank hid a chuckle and shook his head, clearly relieved that he didn’t have to spill the beans.

“Each of us have to share a random sex fact… I…” Frank rubbed the back of his neck. “I like it when the woman is on top of me, so I can see her pleasure and have her in control.” he admitted. Wade gave an approving nod. “I prefer to be the sub – to give up the control, but more often than not I’m taking it because I get impatient – I think. What about you Francis? Any sexy secrets about your preferences? Oh that’s right…” “I get off on watching others emotions. Pleasure – pain? Doesn’t matter.” Ajax admitted – his tone threatening. Wade gasped loudly and murmured ‘Sadist’ under his breath. Frank blinked and tilted his head slightly to the side – as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Remind me again why we haven’t killed this guy?” Frank asked Wade. “You tell me. Hey, Francis, would you like to hurt me a little – how about that, huh?” “Yes, how about that?” Ajax pushed off the wall, his eyes like pits of hell. Dark, angry. A far too familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

Frank’s arm shot out – stopping the villain from getting too close. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Wade taunted him. “Yeah,” Ajax snarled – pressing against Frank’s hand. “If you could organise… Seriously who made up these questions? Are these,” Frank turned the laptop around, unable to mask how mortified he felt. “Are you behind these Wade? Because I swear to god…” “I can take the blame for a lot of things – but not that.” Wade pointed at the screen. “Finish the question. I’m curious now.” Frank sighed and tilted his head upwards, as if he was asking for patience.

“Alright. Alright… Argh… God. If you could organise a threesome involving three of your muses, who would you choose? I guess this one isn’t for us. And… heaven forbid the three of us ever get put in a room together again. Because the next time? I won’t go easy.” Frank pushed Ajax so he fell back against the wall and stared threateningly at Wade. “Careful Frank, he might like it.” Wade taunted. Ajax pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He hated Wade for his ability to get to him. “The next one is for her as well. What muse she’d like to write a ship for…” Frank shook his head again. “What the fuck’s up with all these damned boats? Anyway… I assume she’d like to try me out with Billy.” “Kinky.” Wade purred. “I’m already in quite a few ships. If we’re adding to… pfft.” Truth was, Wade was content with his situation, so it took some thinking. “A Nathan would be nice? And no ships for Francis. His ship sank the day he let Michael Jackson Dr. Killebrew fiddle with his body.” Wade clicked his tongue and winked at Ajax.

“How can you possibly know – “ Ajax began – cut off by Frank as he read the next question. “What are some preferences when deciding whether or not to ship a muse?” Frank frowned at the screen. “Read the rules, play nice, write well – I don’t know.” Wade hummed in agreement. “And don’t assume we’ll ship – I don’t know about the other two, but I’m picky.” “You? Picky?” Ajax scoffed and leered at him. “Do you get to be?” “Well – I can’t fuck all the people who’s bummed because you couldn’t get it up for them.” Wade fired back.

Frank rubbed his face – considering shooting them both. Ajax wouldn’t feel it, but he could die. Wade would feel it and couldn’t die. What a trio they were… “Are you guys DONE bickering yet?” he sounded tiredly. “Never,” Wade answered as he breathed in. Ajax rolled his eyes. “I prefer missionary or the cowgirl or whatever it’s known as these days. I like the intimacy. The control or giving up of. I like to touch, to see…” Frank’s words grew with passion as he spoke. Wade blinked and looked at him. “What are you on about?” “The next question. I figured I might finish this on my own and get the hell out.” Frank was done with the bullshit. “What was the question?” Wade put his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Headcanons, sex positions.” Frank scratched his cheek, and glanced up at Ajax. “You outta this one, too?”

“Against a wall… Or relentless teasing,” Ajax didn’t even get to finish before Wade corrected him; “Endless foreplay,” “To draw as much sound from the other part as possible.” Ajax blinked and turned slowly towards Wade. “What about you then, collared and on your knees begging for it?”

“Actually that’s not that far from the truth. But I like a lot of things. Depends on my partner and whether I’m giving up control or not.” Wade shrugged. “How much time – “ Frank already began reading the next question. “ – none, then.” Wade sighed. “Has she written smut for you guys? Because that’s a no for me.” Frank didn’t take his eyes off the screen – this he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Ajax arched an eyebrow and cocked his head, Wade nodded vigorously. “I suppose neither of you know whether she prefers to write it or not?” Frank huffed and leaned back into his chair. “How are we supposed to answer these questions when they’re not even… yes… Wade?” Much to his surprise Wade has raised his hand.

“Thank you. I happen to know that she don’t mind writing smut, but she has to feel comfortable with the person she’s writing it with.” “Multiship or singleship?” Frank turned to Ajax. He couldn’t stand the guy, but at least he’d had the decency to explain some of these things to him. “Is no ship an option?” Ajax smirked. It should be pretty clear at this point that he didn’t ship. “It is now. I’m on the fence. I wouldn’t ship with someone exclusively I think.” Frank grimaced at himself, as he was now using Tumblr and games own terms. “Good call, Frank! For me it’s multiship all the way.” Wade drew a horizontal line in the air before him. “I’m not exclusive either.” “Huh, I think we just answered the next question. So… What is our shipping preferences? Weren’t we over that? Chemistry?” Frank thought that slow-burn sounded nice, but neither of the other guys seemed like the “slow burn” type. He didn’t know how wrong he was in his assumptions. “Yeah. What would you call my ship with Thanos? Because… that’s like… unhealthy. Toxic ships? I guess we’re semi into that? Aren’t we Francis?” Wade winked at him. Damn was he having a field day. Ajax on his end just shook his head and slammed his shoulders back against the wall. “What’s an OC?” Frank glanced up from the screen, relieved that they were close to done. “Original character. We don’t really do those.” Wade knew that was frowned upon in the roleplaying community, but he didn’t give a shit. “I don’t know about you, but I have more than enough with the canon characters.” On most days, he actually had more than enough with himself. Ajax and Frank both seemed on board with that.

“So,” Frank turned the laptop off and pulled the screen down. “That’s it. We’re done. Let’s never do it again.” his knees cracked as he stood up.

“Or the next time we can get naked and –“ Wade began, Frank pulled his gun and aimed it straight at his crotch.

“You don’t want to finish that sentence.” his voice was low, barely audible. “You don’t want to shoot me, Francis might get off on it.” Wade kindly reminded him. “Oh my fucking…” Frank rubbed his face and headed out of the room. There wasn’t enough booze in the world to make him forget.

“Hey – are you off to kill someone? Do you have a team yet – hey Frank, wait up!” Wade picked up his swords and chased after the Punisher. Ajax sighed and pushed his shoulders down. Being around Wade always made him tense up. He rolled his head from side to side, then left through the back door – half expecting the two of them to be waiting to kill him.

If you made it this far, please let me know what you think. No, Frank didn’t kill Ajax. Yet.

#so much sinday answered in one lengthy fucking thing #i'm not sorry #sinday #sinday meme #answered meme #ficlet #deadpool rp #wade wilson rp #frank castle rp #the punisher rp #francis freeman rp #ajax rp #marvel rp #drabble

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onlyawfulrpgideas · 6 years

Text

Railroading: Express Train Adventures or Leaves on the Plot Line?

“In gaming, the act of forcing a player to "choose to" do something they don't really want to in order to advance the plot according to the wishes or designs of the GM.”

- UrbanDictionary.com (other, unrelated definitions are available, but you have been warned)

Railroading your players is bad, right? It takes away agency, free choice and immersion in a game of unlimited imagination.

The term “railroading” is so often used in complaint – a negative descriptor applied to a more controlled style of game-mastering, often associated with pre-written modules. In published adventures, this feeling of being driven along down a pre-laid train track is – to a certain extent – necessary to make the game work. If the players are allowed unchecked freedom, it is almost certain that, at some point, their choices will cause events to diverge from the pre-determined story later on.

Coming to a game where you’ll be running a published module or adventurers league or whatever, expecting to have sandbox levels of freedom is rather unrealistic. Expecting the GM to accommodate your every maverick whim in this situation is, in my opinion, a little bit selfish. There will be inexperienced players who bring these expectations to the table from time to time, but the joy of our social-based game is that it thrives on patience, understanding and learning. In pre-written adventure scenarios, one cannot really hold the GM responsible for “railroading” because the book is railroading them!

So what does constitute the evil sin of “railroading”? That rather depends where we draw the lines between maintaining a cohesive plot, “railroading” and just being a narrator of your own story. Somewhere on this scale we also encounter the fabled curse of “being a dick”. For now, let’s leave pre-written adventures behind and focus on homebrew campaigns.

Giving your players the ability to make choices that genuinely influence the world around their characters is a key component of what makes D&D so special. There’s nothing wrong with video game PRGs, but there is only a certain amount of things you can do: parameters that you can’t venture beyond, because the programming isn’t infinite. We all know the three pillars of adventure are one third Exploration, one third Role-playing, one third Combat and one extra quarter of Sheer Craziness. It’s in the moments of zany plans and “you can certainly try’s” that push the limits of game mechanics, where some of our most memorable stories originate.

Letting these events play out and dealing with the consequences is the mark of a good GM: allowing your players creative freedom with their characters. Automatically shooting down unlikely attempts, without even allowing someone to make a roll for it, is a big source of “railroading” complaints. Especially when a GM overrules the description a player gave for their character’s actions, in order to force a desired outcome – whether positive or negative. It robs the player of their satisfaction.

When a player wants their character to do something that is fundamentally impossible and a roll would be pointless, consider allowing a roll to be made anyway. The outcome, of course, is unsuccessful; but it creates an illusion of choice and possibility. Through your description, place emphasis on the characters’ determined attempts to the best of their ability, even in the face of “almost” certain failure. This can do wonders for the players’ perception of the game and we’ll look at this in more depth later.

For now, an example:

When I first started GM-ing at college, I ran a sandbox-y story set on an island separated into a north and south area by an impassable stone wall with an ancient, giant-made portcullis gate in the centre. The logic behind this was that I had two groups whose stories took place on opposite sides of the wall. They could communicate and pass small items to each other through the gate, but not get directly involved in events on the other side (since they played at separate times).

Eventually the south team decided to try what had been implied to be impossible and bypass the gate. Despite being enchanted and over a foot in diameter, they weren’t going to let them metal bars keep them out. Against the advice of almost every NPC, they requisitioned as many cutting implements as their money could buy and set to work sawing, filing and axe-swinging away at the portcullis.

Being largely inexperienced, I thought to myself “this is stupid, they know it’s not going to work”. I declined to even narrate the attempt, streamlining the action into a simple statement of “you can’t do it: it’s impossible”. To my surprise, the group were rather quite disappointed, and after the session I had time to ponder why. They knew full well that their attempt was futile, why make the gesture?

Perhaps the two player groups spoke to each other, I don’t honestly know, but sure enough during the next session, the group on the North side of the gate attempted to do the same. This time, I tried things a little differently.

Their monk’s player was, frankly, a complete nutcase and this showed through in his monk-turned-pirate character with an extreme stubborn streak. He made his way down to the wall with every saw blade the island could muster and began to cut at the 12-inch-thick metal bars. I decided to let him roll a general strength check, just for the hell of it. Of course, he rolls a natural 20. Now, this was supposed to be an impossible task…

Without giving an outcome, I asked him how long he would like to spend making the attempt to cut through. He replied “until I drop”. So I had him roll Constitution checks to represent each hour passing, until he had failed three and collapsed from exhaustion. By this point, the table was lost in gales of laughter and cheering him on in the obviously fruitless endeavour. The following morning, the monk awoke where he had passed out, aching all over, surrounded by a heap of blunt saws, to inspect the small, shallow scratch he had made.

Both outcomes were the same: the gate was impassable and no mundane means could truly penetrate it. But one group left the table feeling cheated, “railroaded”, and the other tells the tale of the scene to this day. While the rolls were being made, they held onto the comically absurd notion that somehow, against all the mounting odds, success was possible and the effort was worthwhile, if foolish. Above all they enjoyed being given the chance to try and lamenting/ridiculing the outcome, even if that chance was only an illusion.

In more long-term perspectives, “railroading” is used to describe the instances where no matter what the players do, eventually the story catches up with them just the same as if they had done nothing and the party’s efforts are rendered pointless. This can leave a very firm sense of disappointment and dissolution, where the players wonder why they bother to interact with your world at all, if ultimately, you have already pre-destined what is going to happen. There’s nothing wrong with wider events moving on around the characters if they do not have any direct influence, but be wary of nullifying their actions.

A storytelling technique I’ve learnt and try (as best I can) to incorporate into my GM prep is the “Yeah but, No but” pattern. Having alternate outcomes in mind enables you to give the players scope for influencing your story, while keeping them firmly on the rails of your longer plot.

Perhaps the PC’s cleverly thwart the villain’s evil scheme too early through some logic you overlooked… YEAH, they succeeded, BUT... the villain is able to escape, or the plan is delayed and not stopped altogether. Our heroes have their victory: they saved the day for now. But they go forward knowing that the danger is far from over.

Alternatively, they valiantly attempt to stop the villainous plot and fail… NO, they didn’t succeed, BUT… they discover some kind of clue or blessing that will help them be more prepared next time. Even in defeat, the players can take some measure of victory and look forward to the inevitable rematch.

Either way, the long-term story remains unchanged. The journey to it, however, just got a lot more interesting and gave opportunity for character development – whether that be through revelling in victory, or a hardening of resolve in defeat.

Almost reminds me of… a railroad.

You have your Main Line: the express route. Full steam ahead down the easiest track from A to B. Everything unfolds just as you planned; the characters behave like archetypal heroes with one goal in mind and the campaign unfolds like a slick action movie. Nothing wrong with that, it’s perfectly fun and rewarding. This is often how some of the more heavily time-depended modules are written.

When time is less of a pressure, you might take your players to a junction or the “points” as we call them here. An opportunity presents itself to switch to another narrative track, taking a different direction to the main plot and exploring something new. No matter how many places you visit on that journey, the route you took still links back up to the main line: the over-arching plot.

Maybe your players take it upon themselves to go in a direction you hadn’t anticipated and explore a branch line. You weren’t as prepared for this, so the track might be a little bit wandering and there might not be quite so many significant things down there, but it’s a nice way to explore the fictional world you have created none the less. Not every bit of the adventure needs to be full pace towards a climatic confrontation.

Some sessions might feel more like a shunting yard. You’ve laced the story with plot hooks that seem obvious to you, but it’s taking the players a while to figure out what it is you want them to do – if indeed you have any specific plans at all. They might deliberate backwards and forwards for a while, exploring smaller avenues of adventure in the hopes that something will fall into place and open up the main line that’s laid ready for them.

Dead ends are a thing. Literally. And I don’t mean making characters just die because you don’t like them.

“Railroading” your players into failure can make them feel like you are just mean-spirited or don’t want them to have freedom to try. Equally, don’t try too hard to save them from themselves. If they know the stakes and take risks that might prove fatal for their characters, LET THEM. It’s their story as much as yours and if they are willing to put their characters’ lives on the line for their own reasons, LET THEM. Should they put all their effort into hurtling down the tracks towards a set of buffers, try to minimize damage without some contrived deus ex machina that saves them all at the last minute. Unless it makes sense for that to happen and even then, don’t do this more than once. They can always roll a new character if one of them dies or if the whole party is killed… Then that’s an awesome story!

You and your friends created a world in which to play, characters who brought it to life and who, in the end, chose to risk everything for something bigger than themselves. That’s Epic. The lovingly-detailed world they never got to see doesn’t disappear: it’s still yours and always will be, waiting for the next generation of adventurers to unlock its secrets and plots.

I think it’s time we gave the “railroad” analogy a new lease of life and a better definition. A length of straight track isn’t a proper railroad – it doesn’t have branches or diversions, tunnels or junctions, sidings or stations.

As GM’s we are ALWAYS railroading the players. No matter where it is that their adventures take them, whatever choices they make. There should always be options for different routes that connect back to a familiar narrative – however that takes its shape.

#d&d #rpg #Dungeons and Dragons #roleplaying #5e #3.5e

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carvedfromlivingstone · 6 years

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Rising Above the Clouds

summary: Goliath takes another stab at waking his clan, this time with Elena and Isabel’s help. As it turns out, that makes all the difference. [ takes place on December 8th, 2018 ]

tags: no trigger warnings, short transformation scene

@displacedprincess @littleprincesa-isabel

GOLIATH

There was a tension in the air that Goliath couldn't seem to shake, no matter how much he tried to remind himself that he had done this before. He had walked through this forest before, either with a new spell or artifact, or just to say hello. Many times, in fact. He had been to the ruined tower before, year after year after year. He knew this path, he knew this ritual of sorts; he’d memorized the steps years ago.

The only real difference was that this time, he was walking instead of flying, the sun still finishing its descent. And that he wasn't alone.

“Watch your steps,” Goliath said, offering his hand to Isabel as she stepped over a large root on the forest floor. “We only have a few more minutes left of sunlight, but we're almost there.” They had to swing wide around the wolf territory unfortunately - Akela would never agree to humans walking through ‘his’ land, Goliath’s daughters or not - but at least the Prince had allowed them safe passage. Aside from the occasional root, their journey had been smooth.

“Elena, you keeping up okay?” Goliath asked, looking back at the eldest princess.

ELENA

“Si.” She called ahead, in monotone, careful to avoid any roots about.

Goliath’s concern was expected, and sweet, so she didn’t remind him this was nothing compared to running for your life in a German forest. This was a happy time for her gargoyle dad, not the time to flippantly remind him of her trauma.

“How almost? Like Avalor City to Quito almost, or like...actually close?”

ISABEL

Trekking through a forest wasn’t exactly all that new for the youngest of the bunch. When you had to run across borders for survival a lot of the time that running wasn’t on pristine cement ground. None of that was something that Isabel liked to keep freshly in mind though, yet here she was trekking through yet another forest in her life.

Isa did, however, grab Goliath’s hand as he offered it. She had a feeling it might make him feel better and who was she to say no to extra support?

No matter how many forests one ran through, no two were the same.

The brunette turned her head around to actually make sure that Elena was close behind. Not that she doubted her sister but still…

“Actually close!”

Isabel chimed in, although she herself wasn’t positively sure, but she was hoping to add a positive light to things. She was sure everyone had to be worry about whether or not this would work, or if there would be any consequences coming out from it… or maybe that was just Isa. She couldn’t help herself. Isa always had to logically think through every possible outcome of something.

GOLIATH

Smiling softly at his daughters, Goliath nodded at Isabel’s observation. If he looked through the trees, he could see the spires of the old castle, rising above the leaves as the sky turned to fire with the setting sun behind it. He could even smell the familiar scent of moss and stone skin, and had to stop himself of running the rest of the way.

“Just a few more minutes,” he told them both, giving Isabel’s hand a soft squeeze. “We’ll be there before the sun finishes setting.”

The rest of the walk was quiet, Goliath becoming more and more nervous the closer they got. He knew better than this, to let his hopes get up. It would only result in disappointment. He was still trying to temper his expectations when they passed through the tree line and emerged at the edge of a large clearing.

The estate was clearly falling apart, only the bare bones of the castle remaining, but it was enough to tell that it had once been grand and beautiful. It had once belonged to a noble family that had eventually married into the Lyons and died out over time, their land slowly taken over by Enchancia. It was here that Goliath had led Elena and Isabel, and it was here where the remains of his clan slept.

They were set up high on one of the towers, impossible to reach by human means. Each one frozen in stone, teeth and claws bared and wings spread wide. Even all these years later, Goliath could still make out the confusion and fear in their faces, and his heart clenched.

Over nine hundred years. It had been so long…

“Girls,” he said softly, unable to look away as the sun shone down on the sleeping gargoyles, “meet the rest of my family.”

ELENA

Aw, he’d said the rest of his family. He was going to get Elena all choked up if he kept saying things like that, kept affirming to her that she and Isa had a family in him. She moved to stand beside him and linked an arm in his, resting her head against his arm as she looked up at the gargoyles.

“I know you said gargoyles as a species don’t share many physical traits, but. Really, they all look so different from you. Interesting.” Her scepter was held tight in her other hand, as she gestured with her head at the stone figures.

“Do they know time is passing? Like, do they know how long they’ve been waiting?” She didn’t want to let them - or Goliath - down.

GOLIATH

Her question was one he had asked himself a million times. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “In stone sleep, we do dream but… this is far deeper than that. Maybe they don’t know any time has passed at all.”

Maybe they did. Maybe, like him, the days dragged on and on forever, except unlike him, they didn’t have any simulation from the outside. Truly alone.

He tried not to think about it.

“Isa, mi cielo, stay here,” he said, kissing the top of Isabel’s head as he walked closer to what had once been the courtyard, pulling out the box that contained the Eye of Midnight. He could feel the sun sinking the last few inches under the horizon, and wasted no time in stripping off his hoodie so he was shirtless. For a moment, all was quiet and still.

And then everything broke and stretched and reformed and twisted at once.

Goliath didn’t cry out as the transformation rushed through him, his wings stretching out wide behind him as his tail whipped back and forth. He roared at the sky when the transformation was done, shaking the leaves around them. Goliath took a moment to catch his breath, his wings wrapping tight around his shoulders before he picked the box back up.

He looked back at Elena, giving her a smile. “I’m ready when you are,” he said gently.

ELENA

...immediately regretted asking him that question. Stupid, stupid. She should’ve thought! Goliath, luckily, had the patience of a saint when it came to her and her sister, so he only answered her earnestly.

“We’ll be back soon, Isa.” Elena promised, squeezing her hand.

Even if Elena would likely be unconscious upon her return.

Elena had witnessed the transformation before, but it didn’t get easier with time to hear his bones snap, to watch the gargoyle literally break free from his human mask. How he managed not to cry out in pain astounded her.

Her heart shook with the leaves, adrenaline sent shooting through her veins at the roar, and more than ever she was ready.

“Let’s go. It’s gargoyle o’clock,” Elena said, gripping the Scepter of Light like a fighting staff, and comically taking a battle stance.

“Just tell me what to do,” she said, straightening up, and sombering.

GOLIATH

Isabel wasn’t far, just at the edge of the clearing where she could still see what was going on, but didn’t risk getting caught up in the magic. Goliath had the distant thought that they should have brought Sofia along as well, or Bianca, or even some of the Royal Guards from Avalor. But this… this felt personal. Like it should only belong to the three of them.

He gave Isabel and Elena a reassuring smile, before opening the box that contained the Eye of Midnight.

Right away, the sky directly overhead seemed to darken, like the night was thicker here than where the last hints of red and pink were already fading away. He pulled it out of its box, holding it carefully in his palm. The magic was already tugging at him, a low murmur whispering to him from across a great valley. Not enough to drag him back under the thrall of the night, but enough to make its presence known.

(If he listened closely enough, he might have heard Orizaba’s voice in the group, little more than a breath.)

Holding the Eye of Midnight in front of himself, halfway between Elena and the rest of his clan, Goliath took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s give this a shot,” he said, the forest quiet around them. Waiting.

ELENA

Elena swallowed and hesitated only a moment, leaning back away from the Eye with the Scepter clutched to her chest. What if she hit Goliath with the beam from the Scepter? Should they have bought a levitation charm from a sorcerer to hold the Eye in place without Goliath having t-

She shook her head rapidly as if to cancel out those thoughts. Hesitation and Maruvian magic were not friends, Sofia had explained to her. Confidence was key in pulling this off.

“H-hold it still. I don’t want to hit you instead,” Elena said, forcing the last bits of her doubt away long with those words. “Right, I’m going to start now.”

She gripped the Scepter tight and aimed it at the Eye, and gave a clear, resounding command to the Scepter. “Ilumina. Cerque.” And a transparent dome of blue-white light formed around them. Elena fumbled inside her pocket for the charm she’d bought from Reza, the new Board member, made to lock a temporary magic effect into place for a little while longer. The idea to use the Scepter’s capability to make a bubble of light around a perimeter, and the lock in in place to give it more light to draw from, had been Isabel’s.

God, she was so smart.

Elena set the charm down on the ground at the base of the light dome, and left it alone to do its thing. She only needed to crush it under her heel and sprinkle a small vial full of potion made to cancel the charm over it. Isa had the vial of potion, in case Elena passed out before she could do it.

Ready, aim.

“Rayo,” she commanded the Scepter to shoot a beam of light at the Eye. Sure enough, wisps of light from the dome were snaking their way over to the beam, eager to be a part of it. And now for the last part.

“Rescuite!”

A vocal command not tied to light, not tied to the Scepter itself, but a call for the stone creatures to resurrect that would hopefully hijack the magic swimming through the beam of light, be amplified by the Eye, and wake the creatures of night.

“Rescuite!” All Elena knew was that magic was happening, that magic and her energy were being pulled out of her at the command, because she could feel it draining from her.

GOLIATH

Goliath’s eyes were only on Elena as she began to work, casting spell after spell. There was a non-zero chance that they only had half of a shot at this; Elena was still learning to master the Scepter and they may not have time to wait for her energy to come back to try again with the Eye. But each movement was done with a methodical efficiency that made it seem like Elena was already a master. She and Sofia had practiced the movements a dozen times.

The light hit the Eye of Midnight, refracting like stars all across the clearing. Shining and spinning slowly, fog coming in along the floor of the forest and swirling slowly in an imaginary wind around the dome Elena had created. He could hear the whispers louder now, rising and falling with the fog. Rescuite, rescuite, rescuite.

He looked at his clan. Nothing.

But there was… a tugging. At the back of his chest. Incessant, not entirely the pull of the Eye’s thrall, something… different. Deeper. Something he could feel in his soul.

“Dùisg,” he whispered, and the tugging responded. “Dùisg!” Goliath repeated, looking at his clan with wide eyes. The whispers took up the plea in their soft voices. Rescuite. Dùisg. Rescuite. Dùisg.

Please, please. Let this work.

ISABEL

Isabel had stood behind in compliance to both Elena and Goliath’s request. She didn’t have an ounce of magic in her so staying behind was probably best. There wasn’t much that she could really add at this point anyways.

Instead, the brunette popped a squat criss-cross applesauce style on the ground not too far off from the courtyard.

Her eyes had scanned over the line of gargoyles that remained still as stone, gargoyles that didn’t breathe the air of life like Goliath did. They were all still and lifeless. None if them looked like the other beside him, none of them looked like Goliath either for that matter, but they were family and very important to her papi, so important to Isa.

And so was her sister whom the brunette paid close attention to. She wouldn’t lie, watching Elena use the Scepter of Light was uncomfortable only because she knew how it affected her. It was why Isa focused on inventing anything and everything that could aid Elena in using the Scepter without it draining her.

Elena was using the scepter now as Isa watched with her breath hitched back in her throat.

She closed her eyes for a moment, her lips beginning to move. Rikch’arirqanku. An ancient calling in the language of her people to wake up. Rikch’arirqanku.

This had to work.

ELENA

As the Scepter ate away at the light dome to amplify its own power, it also ate away at Elena. She could feel herself fading out and she knew she didn’t have much time left before she either passed out, or the Scepter just stopped doing its thing because she had nothing left to give it.

It has to work, it has to work, Elena thought as the command filled the air in three languages.

She didn’t want to know what Goliath looked like after having his hopes crushed if this failed because of her weakness.

GOLIATH

The night spoke in a low chorus, like the cicadas sleeping deep underground. Rescuite. Dùisg. Rikch’arirqanku. Rescuite. Dùisg. Rikch’arirqanku. Again and again, it called out, enticing and luring, sinking past years of magic to whisper in the ears of the creatures that belonged to the night. Even Merlin’s spell, cast by the Magis so many years ago, could not keep the night from claiming its own.

Rescuite. Dùisg. Rikch’arirqanku. Rescuite. Dùisg. Rikch’arirqanku.

Goliath gasped as a great weight pressed against his chest, threatening to crush his lungs. Across the clearing, there was the sound of cracking stone.

Rescuite. Dùisg. Rikch’arirqanku. Rescuite. Dùisg. Rikch’arirqanku.

Only the orb in his hands and the magic coursing through it kept Goliath from falling to his knees as the powerful magic reached out to his soul and sent a current through his whole body like lightning. He roared to the sky, eyes glowing white.

He was answered.

Atop the tower, the statues began to move in short, violent movements, breaking free of their stone skin in pieces. Heads shook, wings spread towards the sky, tails thrashed, and each gargoyle roared as they woke and cried to the sky for the first time in nearly a thousand years. Dull stone gave way to vibrant skin in different tones, eyes glowing the same white as Goliath’s as they woke.

The last members of the Wyvern Clan, stretching towards the moon for the first time in over 990 years.

ELENA

The only word to describe this all was ‘unreal.’ As Elena lowered the Scepter, a wave of vertigo making the world spin, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was really happening. Did they seriously wing - pun not intended - a counterspell to the curse cast on Goliath’s clan over nine hundred years ago?

Gargoyles, in Goliath’s own words, were teetering on the brink of extinction. So, though Elena knew there was a small clan deep in the mountains of Avalor, the only gargoyle she’d seen before was Goliath, and suddenly seeing four or five more right in front of her was absolutely exploding her mind.

Er, that, or the Scepter’s whole energy-stealing caveat.

“I-Isa, the potion vial in your pocket,” Elena reminded her as she crushed the charm under her heel for Isa to pour it on the remains. The dome was almost completely faded, but a thin ring of light would still be seen until the potion was poured over the broken pieces.

Elena wasn’t sure why the world seemed empty and so full all at once. Adrenaline? Or was the how people felt before passing out from rude magic scepters leeching their energy?

The princess slowly made her way to the nearest tree to press her back against, and slide down to sit on the forest floor. Either she’d rest and be fine, or, pass out here soon but in concussion-proof way.

Not just a hat-rack sometimes, Elena’s head.

It felt a bit unfair that Elena couldn’t fully appreciate and take in the result of what she’d just helped do. The majesty and beauty of the gargoyles took second fiddle in Elena’s pounding head to her exhaustion and vertigo. Still, it wasn’t lost on her that she - and Isa - had actually been useful, had actually helped the gargoyle that’d spent almost twenty years choosing to be their family when it wasn’t always easy, break the centuries long curse on the rest of his family.

Once Isa doused the charm in the potion, the last remnants of the light dome disappeared, and Elena let out a tired sigh of relief. It was done.

She opened her mouth to call out to Goliath, but snapped her jaw shut, teeth clacking together. He’d waited almost a thousand years for this. Elena wasn’t about to interrupt the reunion just because she was feeling a little… less than excellent.

Instead, she focused on watching the five gargoyles interact, hoping the strangeness of it all would distract her from her pounding head, vertigo, and the sounds of the night fading in and out.

GOLIATH

Isabel quickly rushed over to Elena, pouring out the potion and dissipating the last of her spell, and Goliath turned to help his two daughters almost on reflex. Elena had strained herself so much, she needed to get home sooner rather than later, and-

“Goliath?”

Goliath’s head immediately snapped around, looking up towards the voice. It was the smallest of his rookery sons, looking down at him in confused wonder. Awake. Alive. Surrounded by the rest of his clan. Goliath felt a sob rise in his chest, a bright smile on his face as he took a step forward, arms held out wide.

His rookery sons, all three of them more impossibly beautiful than he remembered, grinned and opened their wings wide, swooping down to join him as they laughed in relief and shouted over each other in familiar Gaelic. They crashed into Goliath and it was only his larger size that kept him from getting knocked over. Tears were rolling down his cheeks now as he joined their laughter, holding them all close and nudging his browridges against theirs.

“You’re awake! You’re alive!” he said joyously, the old familiar scents of his clan washing over him as his rookery sons all clamored to be as close to him as possible; grinning and crying themselves. “We’re together again!”

A large head butted against his hip, and he looked down to see their beast panting happily as he rubbed against his side. Behind him, his mentor stood with tears in his own eyes, and he quickly joined the hug as the gargoyles all babbled and spoke over each other, refusing to let go of one another.

“You did good, lad,” his mentor murmured, his steady, familiar hand on Goliath’s shoulder, and a sob rattled him to the core.

“It has been so long…”

“We’re together now,” his rookery son said, long white hair nearly obscuring his face. “We’re back where we belong.”

“Not quite,” his mentor said, looking around the forest in confusion. “This isn’t the castle…”

“We are in Swynlake, the caste of the Lyons is not far from here,” Goliath explained. “Much has changed, and I will explain everything in time, but first.” Goliath reluctantly pulled away, just enough to gesture back to Elena and Isabel. “Come. You must meet your sisters.”

His sons all looked over at the two and gasped in shock at the two humans. “Sisters!?” Their beast shuffled closer, easily taller than Elena while she was slumped over, and sniffed at them cautiously. Smelling Goliath on the two girls, he licked Elena’s cheek happily before curling up at her side and sniffing at Isabel’s hands curiously.

ELENA

Elena was really fighting it at this point, though, the excitement was helping keep her awake just a little longer. She didn’t know what they were saying, she didn’t speak Gaelic, but it sounded so natural from Goliath that it didn’t register as strange to her.

Granted, not much was registering period, but.

What she did catch was the sound of Goliath’s voice coming out choked and Elena pouted, reaching forward with her arm as if she could extend it all the way to him like Mr. Fantastic to pat his pat. She didn’t like to see him cry - though, this time, he was happy.

Elena dropped her arm back down to the leaves, eyes following it. She looked up just in time to see a creature not quite gargoyle, not quite anything-else, shuffling toward her.

She froze. Should she be afraid? What was it?

Though, at Goliath just standing there calm as one could be after what they’d just done, Elena decided no, afraid is not the answer. And when it licked her face and curled up at her side? Ha! She giggled sleepily and pat the creature.

“Goliath, Papá, I’m going to fight you,” she teased in Spanish. “You never t-told me gargoyles had rock dogs!”

Elena was going to cuddle the rocky puppy so much, she could feel it!

She turned her head to get a better look at Goliath to keep talking, but winced in pain as her head pounded worse with the movement. Elena managed a smile, if only to reassure him she was okay, really. Nothing a little rest wouldn’t fix.

Speaking of rest. The last remnants of her wakefulness were quickly fading, and the gargoyle puppy was looking like a rather comfy nap buddy right now. Hey, he’d be rocky, but she’d not need to support her own head. On instinct, Elena wrapped her arms around the creature like he were Adam’s dog Blue, and hugged onto him.

“So nice. I like him, can we keep him?” Elena said of the creature, nuzzling against him.

After a content little hum, she addressed Goliath, speech slurring a little with fatigue. “‘Tan cansada, Papá. Me duele la cabeza, y estoy cansada. I want to nap here. Right here.”

Her eyes lingered open as they weren’t quite ready to snap shut yet. Elena’s one eye was against the friendly creature, so it’s with one eye that she looked up at Goliath, with the visible corner of her mouth ticked up.

His real family was free, and she helped do that.

“’M’glad we were able to help you for once.” She wriggled her legs to test how heavy they felt, and whimpered in frustration when just that motion made her feel more tired.

“I don’t think...I don’t think I can stand, or-or walk. Elena’s tapping out, she’s not here anymore. Leave a message for your daughter at the beep.” She lazily pat the creature and giggled, “Beep.”

GOLIATH

It was easy to see Elena was fading quickly, the Scepter having sapped her strength, and Goliath didn’t hesitate to let go of his clan to go kneel in front of Elena. She was clinging to their beast weakly, the freshly-woken creature laying patiently on the ground as the Human Who Smelled Like Goliath used him as a pillow, and Goliath gave his chin a scratch.

“Sleep, mija,” he said gently, kissing the top of her head before gently scooping her up into his arms. He held his other hand out to Isabel as he cradled Elena in one arm, helping the young woman to her feet. “We can do introductions later. You both did so wonderfully,” he said, tears still rolling down his cheeks even as he smiled brightly. “Thank you both so much.” He kissed the back of Isabel’s hand.

The other gargoyles watched curiously, before Goliath’s mentor stepped forward and swept into a bow in front of Isabel. “Thank you for your help,” he said, still speaking in Gaelic. The others came slowly closer, cautiously, Goliath’s son with the long white hair moving over to the beast and scratching behind his ear.

“We should return to my home,” Goliath told them. “I live in a human house at the other edge of town, it should be easy enough to get there without being seen.” He turned to his mentor. “Could you carry Isabel? My arms are a little full.”

Goliath looked back at his youngest daughter with a warm smile once the older gargoyle nodded. “We’re flying back to the house so we can get Elena tucked into bed. Would you mind flying with my mentor?” he asked.

ELENA

Sleep, he said she could sleep. That was good...she wanted to stay awake to not worry Isa, but Goliath was right. It would be better if she just closed her eyes and let herself drift off. She’d wake up tomorrow afternoon, or maybe the wee hours of the morning the following day, and be just fine.

If a day of asleep Elena, and another two days of fatigued but functioning Elena was the trade off for Goliath having his clan back, then she was glad that the price was so negligible. She just hoped he wouldn’t feel bad for it later. Hey, a free day of sleep? Yes, please.

She’d already given Sofia her phone passcode and a script of what to say to call out to work at Remy’s tomorrow. (Nobody could fake her accent as well as her.)

“Oh, anything for family, you know?” Elena said softly, nuzzling into Goliath’s warmth. “Tell the puppy he’s… a good boy. Make- make sure he knows.”

Her eyes drifted shut moments later, and before Goliath could address Isa, she was pulled into a deep sleep.

GOLIATH

Isabel was shy as she stepped closer to the eldest gargoyle, who after a lifetime of carrying around hatchlings and young Princess Katherine, easily and respectfully took her into his arms to fly. “Lead the way,” he said, looking to Goliath, and he nearly began to weep again. The largest of his rookery sons scooped up their beast, holding him tight in preparation for the flight.

Goliath looked across his family, whole for the first time in so, so long, and smiled.

“Come,” he told them, preparing to leap into the air as his wings spread out wide behind him. “We take to the skies. I’ll show you our new temporary home. And then… I’ll catch you up. You missed quite a lot while you slept.” They had time to catch up. For so long, all he’d had was time.

Now, he could feel each heartbeat. He could feel the pull of time. For the first time, he was truly moving forward instead of just watching the world around him. As he and his clan flew over the forest, chasing each other through the sky as they flew boldly past the clouds, the familiar paths felt new for the second time in one night.

Everything felt more alive, and Goliath, only now that his purpose had been fulfilled, truly lived again.

#c. elena flores #c. isabel flores #t. rising above the clouds #//aka Silv Does An Asspull to Wake Up the Gargoyles

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awildhanmonster · 6 years

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Character Ramblings for Wyrd!

At Wyrd’s behest, I’m trying to write down a little master post of some recent characters she bullied— I mean enabled— me to create. This is for our casual Loserverse world— i.e. the fast-and-loose All The Myths Are True low fantasy trope where a bunch of well intentioned idiots try to get by in an apartment complex for largely mythical creatures. I’ve accidentally made up a lot of new side characters in the past month and it’s getting hard to keep track of them, so here we go!

THE HOMESTEADING SHAPESHIFTER TRIO: AKA NELL, LEONORA AND BARNES

I’m listing these three together on their own because they are an active “couple” (… trio? I’m not sure what the right polyamory term is) who all live together in a more rural part of the county on some acreage generationally owned and tended by Nora’s family line. Their personal plot is pretty manageable (just a few acres) and a small portion of the entire property. They have a little flock of maybe 2 dozen combined sheep and goats, some chickens, and possibly an alpaca. The land is woodsy and picturesque with an old country house they share.

Nell J. Harriet, aka Nell: approximately 32 years old, born intersex, happily nonbinary (pronouns are ‘they’). The tallest of the bunch at around 6’ even, with a pale wiry frame and knobby, angular corners all over. Jet black hair with a striking chunk of white smack dab at the front of the widow’s peak like the trail of a dog’s blaze, one solid brown eye, one split tweaky blue/brown mess. Shifted form is a black and white border collie with (surprise!) heterochromia and a chunky white blaze cutting through the forehead right at the widow’s peak.

Despite being born to a mother with a long family history of (gene-recessive) shifters cropping up every generation, Nell was still a surprise to everyone involved, given that their father had presumably been human. Their mother— who I’ll call Meryl for now— comes from a fairly mundane lineage of canine shifter (while being a non-shifter Rr carrier herself) which typically manifests in early childhood and has a certain period of semi-conscious malleability during the formative years in which things like coat color, length, ear set, and other minor (external) features can be changed through great effort and trial/error before eventually “settling” into a constant, unique physical identity with time. They heal several times faster than average humans, scar less, and tend to show greater physical resilience, taking a few seconds to painlessly and more-or-less fluidly change shape, but lack any kind of “burst healing” mechanic or unusual magical attributes.

Everyone else in the family before Nell had turned out some kind of pleasantly functional “mutt” shape in the end, but Nell erupted onto the scene as a full blown black-and-white border collie looking thing from day 1 of the change as a bouncy toddler. Meryl could only guess that the father (long since vanished from their lives with no hard feelings, the affair was brief) was a similar, incidentally compatible shapeshifter himself, but that’s about as well as anyone can guess since he’s not around to ask.

Nell, for their part, is exactly the kind of plucky, sunshiny, high-energy velcro person you would expect from a border collie on two legs. They struggled in early childhood with some rough ADHD and OCD type tendencies, but managed to get through public schooling with the help of family support/tutoring, and wound up not pursuing college in favor of trying out a more rural living, instead. They met Leonora while bouncing around odd jobs a couple years after high school and the rest is history. They’re much happier now with a largely outdoor existence and animals to tend to, burning off the excess energy that plagued them for years without a direction prior to homesteading. They’re one of those types who thrives with an outlet for physical and mental stimulation but loses their mind for lack of it. As one would expect from any good BC. The farming life is an ideal fit.

Leonora Basso: aka Nora, but only if you’re close to her. Approximately 34-ish, a shameless bohemian woman from a long line of shifters almost functionally identical to Raiker/Nicky’s species, with the exception of taking on the form of giant (thanks, conservation of mass) white maremma type guardian dogs instead of akbash. Built square, stocky, and a little short (probably around 5’4’’), with olive/bronze-y skin, brown eyes, and a giant fluffy mess of fluffy, platinum white-blond hair the exact color and texture of maremma fur.

She’s chill, with admirable patience for things that warrant it and a long fuse for small annoyances, though she’s also the only member of the three to ever knock someone’s teeth out, so take that with a grain of salt. Like any good guardian dog, she’s placid until you start messing with her flock— literally or metaphorically. Then she’ll be the one to quietly walk across the bar and slam your head into the table. She met Nell during a trip to the inner city by complete happenstance when the two hit it off over conversation, during which she invited them to come visit her farm over a public touring weekend, and within weeks wound up dating. Their relationship was exclusive up until Barnes came along and none of them are quite sure how it happened, but they’ve never been in a better place.

Chancellor Barneston Augustine-Kingslay, aka Barnes: and ONLY Barnes, okay. Repeat his full name N E V E R or he’ll just, seriously, die. Of embarrassment. The youngest of the bunch at around 27-28 or so, Barnes was adopted by his (human) parents as a (human, presumably) infant, and had a perfectly normal (human, presumably) childhood until one day when his mother came in and found that her napping four year old was suddenly a napping 40 pound maine coon cat— or at least, what LOOKED a whole lot like one. Needless to say, the following week was a scramble of buying every “Help! My Child is a Shapeshifter, What Do I Do!” parenting book off Amazon and learning how to cope with a toddler who could suddenly vault over double stacked safety gates unaided, but they learned how to adapt, and life continued on happily for the little family anyway. He’s an average sort, and arguably handsome to some: about 5’8’’, not especially pale or tan, hazel eyed, and sporting what looks like perpetually dark-ticked mouse brown hair, cut short. He performed well enough in public school with a mostly human peer group who went largely unaware of his “talents” and even went on to earn a bachelor’s in business/finances/something akin, which seemed like the thing to do. He wouldn’t describe himself as unhappy in his accomplishments; by every metric he was doing fine in life, and could easily figure out a career in some white collar job that paid his bills well enough.

He just couldn’t shake a certain feeling of restlessness and dissatisfaction about the idea, and wound up making a habit of weekend demos and classes to see what else was out there in the world: one of which happened to be a sheep shearing weekend out at the Basso Homestead. On a whim, Barnes attended a demo headed by none other than Leonora while she was using a feisty ram (named Ramses) to walk visitors through the shearing process, Ramses was being fighty, Nell wasn’t around to help wrangle him, and Barnes, thinking he was capable, volunteered (despite Nora warning him repeatedly that rams were pretty feisty) to help hold him down.

… Needless to say he earned a spectacular nut shot via ram horns in the groin and wound up sitting out the rest of the day with an ice pack and a lot of sympathy, but it got him talking to Nora, and then Nell, and the three of them just gelled in a way that kept bringing them back together. He’s realized in hindsight that he’s much happier in the suburbs than the big city, and enjoys putting his schooling to use by handling the home taxes and business numbers.

(Fun fact: years later, when it Ramses got too big for his britches and was sent to the abattoir, they were given part of him by the Basso family and cooked a roast to celebrate the asshole sheep that brought them all together. Ramses was delicious.)

Barnes, incidentally, still has no idea just WHAT kind of shifter he actually is thanks to being a doorstep baby/anonymous adoption acquisition by the foster folks— aside from a giant 100+ pound country cat, that is. He’s observed that his shift is nearly as swift as Leonora’s, though there are queer persistences that he seems to have (pierced ears not healing instantly or trying to close after a change) that she lacks. Coupled with the fact that he seems to be a magnet for comically mundane/irritating paranormal activity, he’s put in his research (mostly as a boredom hobby, not a necessary pursuit) but keeps drawing blanks on potential labels for his identity. The TRUTH of the matter (which he’ll probably never know in canon) is that he’s actually a cait sith— born in the form of a cat, rather than a human, and bewitched by his mother to retain a human form as long as possible in the hopes that it would get him a better chance at finding loving parents. His shifting has a much heavier magical component to it than his SOs, though he has no real sense for it, and it’ll probably just be a mystery the rest of his life.

Wow, yeah, this got super long! I’ll make a separate post for the other losers I’ve made up lately, though these three are the most fleshed out so far.

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cosmosogler · 6 years

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hi guys. didn’t sleep much last night. didn’t prepare me well for today.

i did get up and get to my chores... eventually. it took an hour and a half to get up and moving once i got out of bed. i showered and that went so late i just skipped breakfast and made myself lunch.

harrison decided to wait until 4 hours before mom was set to show up to freak the hell out at me. he figured out i was avoiding him and i told him the truth. he didn’t stop doing things i told him repeatedly to stop doing. i said those comments made me feel bad. he did the whole “oh i’m a failure of a friend” shtick and i didn’t have the energy to turn around and ignore my hurt feelings to comfort his hurt feelings about my hurt feelings.

he made me so angry! i typed out a lot of messages and had to press my fists against the desk and take a deep breath and erase them and try again.

the reason i got so angry was because as soon as it became clear i wasn’t going to say “oh no it’s ok” or whatever he demanded i send him a list of boundaries i have for him to not cross. like buddy if you don’t know them by now then it’s either not a problem or a very big problem. (he doesn’t listen.) i told him i didn’t know off the top of my head and he basically freaked out over and over in the same exact way no matter how many times i told him i was too tired to give him a list of my life for his own convenience.

i told him that. “i don’t have a check list for your convenience.” his response was “then how am i supposed to learn?” he sent me that literal message word for word after i told him twice that i am not his teacher or his babysitter. i have a full time job and it is not “patiently teach harrison about the magical ways of the world constantly and repeatedly at his pleasure forever and ever.”

i was so angry. i didn’t have time for that. i didn’t really get to prepare myself for mother before she showed up because i was grinding my teeth and taking deep breaths about harrison for two hours this afternoon. i sent him a link to a long pdf about emotional labor. that’s what he’s sapping out of me. the emotional labor. he won’t read it or understand it. but i told him to talk to literally anyone besides me about it. i know he won’t. he doesn’t listen. he doesn’t really listen to me. it doesn’t matter what i do. he’s just going to put me in these lose-lose situations forever and it’s exhausting and i have OTHER THINGS I NEED TO DO WITH MY DAY!!!

so i stumbled down to the parking lot to greet mother. we went and got her checked in to her hotel and we had dinner. i ended up talking a lot more than i wanted to. when i found out dad’s mom wants to get another dog (she killed her last one) i couldn’t hold back a pretty nasty comment. didn’t have the patience i needed.

at least when mom started making judgmental comments about other people i had the presence of mind to say “that’s not really my business” and change the subject to something that is my business. like insurance and taxes and boring difficult impossible adult stuff. mother wasn’t very helpful with a pep talk. when dad called she had me answer the phone for her. dad asked how i was doing and i said “i’m ok” and then let the silence kind of hang there. then i relayed mom’s message and hung up.

i was starving all day (i didn’t have the energy to actually make myself a lunch) and then when i got my food i could barely eat anything at all. it took me like an hour to eat my pasta. i didn’t even finish it. i ate too much to keep the few bites remaining for leftovers but... my body was doing that thing where i felt weak from hunger and yet food was the last thing i wanted anywhere near me.

every time mom complains about genevieve i tell her the same thing. eve is bored. she’s out of shape. she needs more exercise. mom never listens though and nothing changes. nothing ever changes just because i asked for something.

feels like that at least.

i learned my sister has been taking anxiety medication for several years now. our primary doctor prescribes them, my sister won’t see a therapist or psychiatrist. it’s so frustrating sometimes. she seems so miserable all the time but it’s like she thinks seeing a counselor will make her a crazy person or something. and you can’t be a crazy person! they’re the worst thing you could possibly be.

stigma.

she might be a little proud, too. but the way my brother’s expression changes if therapy ever comes up, that sort of sharp flinch, i can tell that judgment is there. i don’t see why my sister wouldn’t feel a similar way.

anyway i came home and i was so tired i did nothing for several hours. i got started on a thing for the comic but i didn’t have the energy to move past a quick sketch. i watched fma for a bit... episode 40 is next.

i feel like i can’t draw fast enough. i wish it didn’t take so long to tell a story. i have a hundred things backed up that i REALLY want to draw. but no energy to actually draw them. i stare at my to-do list and i look at my sketchbook sitting next to me and i just sag a little. i’m feeling overwhelmed. and i can’t find that... drive, i guess, i keep wondering if anyone’s even reading it (even though i know people are reading it, and they want to know what happens next, because that’s what happens when you follow an ongoing story).

i want to talk about it with someone besides harrison but when i go to talk about my process or the characters or choices i made i kinda clam up. at least in creative writing club that five-second hesitation of “oh my god, there is a huge flood of information i could give about how i’m doing with this story, i’ve been making such good progress, what do i talk about?” got me absolutely nothing. i didn’t get to talk about it at all! the president moved on to his dnd campaign. i don’t have super-reflex wit... i needed a minute.

i guess with harrison it’s easier to talk about it because he hasn’t played the game and doesn’t have his own opinions about the characters. he has a different set of spoilers i can avoid. it’s way easier to talk about elements from the middle of the story (the part i wrote) when i’m sitting on the horrible bombshell twist of an ending to the game (the part i didn’t write). harrison knows some of my events and the characters but not where i’m going with all of it.

while with people who HAVE played the game, the middle of the story is going to be much more unknown! how do our protagonists get from where they are to where they end up in the game? (what changes did i decide to make to the game’s story? i’ve revealed a few already, a minor one and a major one.)

so it’s way harder to talk with them about my story because a different subset of the story is going to be unknown to them. that subset is the part that i put all the work into. if i talk too much about the middle of the story then there ain’t gonna be any big mysteries left.

i dunno. a solution to this problem would be to have more friends i guess. i never know what to say or how to say what i want to say. i’m still very afraid of the judgment. i get it. i’m a big gay nerd. but the minute you say “fanfiction” people get all weird about it. i had to be really careful about who i told about my art. and none of them even looked anyway. nothing even matters.

i feel so trapped.

i gotta run errands with mom tomorrow, probably most of the day. i’ve been putting together a list of things i need to collect or fix. mom likes having things to fix. and if i give her things to fix that are not me, we get along a little better. she gets to feel helpful, i get to have a working desk fan, and i don’t have yet another tense situation under my belt of “memories of mother.”

anyway. i don’t know what else to talk about. i feel like i have more to say but i’m not sure what it is i want to say, and even if i did i don’t have the energy to say it.

#uuuuuUUUUUUUGH

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